Chapter 8
"I wonder if you realize all that you have accomplished," Delia Nordstrom said to her daughter. They were companionably drinking coffee in the kitchen of their home. It was a Saturday, a non-school day. John Nordstrom had gone with friends on a hunting trip and the two women had the house to themselves. "It's a miracle that a fifteen-year-old girl could work herself into a position where she practically dominates and controls all the vice in town and even has many of the so-called 'better citizens' eating out of her hand."
"Thank you, dear," Lil replied, "but, really, Mother, I've only started. Take Wharton, for instance. He pays me a hundred and fifty a week now and I haven't even shown him the pictures. I'll have the old fool's drug store before I'm through with him."
Delia nodded. "I don't doubt it. The way you're going, you'll own the town in another year. But do you know that there is another person as powerful as you in his own way, perhaps even more dangerous than Hootch Donovan?"
Lil frowned. "Who?"
"The Reverend Canfield. Now don't laugh. He had the largest congregation in town and the man wields a tremendous influence, especially among the women, the churchy, do-gooder types that you can never hope to reach. Did you know that, for the past two Sundays, he has been preaching scare sermons about the sudden increase in the use of dope among high school children? Furthermore, he has made some broad hints concerning other kinds of vice. He's already got the P.T.A. and the Ladies Aid types pretty well worked up into a lather of civic self-righteousness. All he has to do is to suspect who is in back of all this, point his finger at you and there'll be such a mob of indignant old bitches clamoring for your scalp that even Donovan won't be able to protect you. Just remember that it is public opinion that makes public officials tick."
"You really think it's that bad?" Lil asked earnestly.
"Have I ever given you anything but good advice?" Delia countered.
"No," Lil admitted. She giggled. "Every ambitious, young girl should have a beautiful mother who also happens to be an ex-whore. Okay, I'll have to do something about Mr. Canfield."
"Just be careful," her mother counseled.
Lil knew how to be careful. The fact was that her apparently phenomenal success was due, not so much to luck, as to a brilliant mind, well equipped with the safeguards and dampers of cunning and shrewdness. Like any predatory animal, she had a built-in instinct for traps and pitfalls. But she also knew how to be audacious. After giving the problem of Mr. Canfield, the minister, thoughtful consideration, she decided upon a frontal attack.
The town supported two theaters. One was a drive-in that only opened during the summer months. The other was the Rialto, a downtown movie house. Lil was aware that Canfield. by means of his not inconsiderable influence and authority, had bullied the theater owner into giving him a private showing of all movies that might, even remotely, be considered questionable as to moral standards. Those he turned thumbs down on were not shown, not even with an "adults only" label. Lil thought she saw a way in which she could turn Canfield's one-man censorship program to her advantage. She was counting on her personal, and occasionally intimate, relationship with Jake Jakowsky to further her campaign. Jake was the projectionist at the Rialto.
She contacted him that same day and made him a proposition.
"I don't know, Lil," Jake said, shaking his head. I'd like to help you out, but if the boss ever gets wise...."
"Don't worry. He won't. All you have to do is let me into the Rialto on Monday morning while Canfield is previewing 'The Surfers'. Look, if worst comes to worst, I can always claim I jimmied the stage door and sneaked in that way. But it won't. Believe me, Jake, I know what I'm doing. Do this for me and you get your pick of my girls ... for free. Which one would you like?"
Jake licked his thick lips and rubbed his bald head, his eyes greedy. "I'll like a crack at that little Dora Harmon. Okay, Lil, you be at the side door at nine Monday."
Lil was there on time. She had to cut her early classes to make it, but that didn't worry her. She attended school only when it suited her purpose anyway, counting on Armond Fletcher to turn aside the complaints of her teachers.
Jake let her in and took her to the projection booth where he was preparing the film and cameras for the private showing. During the half-hour wati for Canfield, she allowed Jake to pet her, and she played with his cock while they swapped tongues. He cursed and groaned in frustration when their love play was interrupted by an authoritative and impatient rap on the side door.
"I'll wait here until he's seated and the show is started," Lil told Jake. "Go ahead now and let him in. Sorry about your aching nuts, Jakey honey. Save your hard on for Dora Harmon."
Still grumbling, he went down the stairs while Lil watched from the small window in the booth. She saw Jake admit the tall, austere figure of the minister and conduct him to a seat in the center of the theater. They talked for a minute and then Jake disappeared under the balcony in the direction of the stairs. "Okay," he grumbled as he re-entered the booth, "we'll get this show on the road and you can do your stuff. I hope to hell you don't louse both of us up with this screwball stunt you're going to pull."
The theater lights blinked out and the screen lit with a dim, then gradually brightening, picture of rolling, green seas, white-crested with surf that plunged endlessly onto a long, curving stretch of beach. Just as the title appeared, superimposed on the ocean scene, a surfer came into view, a tiny, distant figure with red trunks, brightly colored board and blond hair above a bronzed body. As the credits appeared one after the other, the surfer drew closer and closer, growing in size until he dominated the screen. As the preliminaries ended and the story began to unfold, the camera panned suddenly away from the surfer to where a girl stood on the beach. She was a glorious creature, young, vibrant and nearly naked in the wisp of a bikini that clung like two brightly colored threads to rounded hips and proudly jutting breasts.
Lil grinned. "Your boss can forget about showing this one," she said to Jake. "After Canfield sits there and drools at that chick for an hour and a half, he'll go back to the church committee and report the film as much too salacious to be seen by the pure-hearted bitches and knightly old lechers who are our beloved townspeople, and certainly not fit for viewing by our pot-smoking, fornicating youth. Well, let's see if I can't take his mind off his work."
Lil winked at the worried, nervous Jake and slipped out of the booth. She went silently down the carpeted stairs to the main floor and down the aisle to where Canfield sat, staring intently at the screen. He was unaware of her presence until she took the seat beside him and spoke.
"Mind if I join you, Reverend?" she asked politely.
He jumped as if he'd been goosed. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "What is the meaning of this, young lady?"
Lil gave him her most bewitching smile. "I thought you might be lonesome. Looks like a swinging picture, doesn't it?"
Canfield had white, wavy hair, of which he was rather inordinately proud, and a sternly handsome face. But, at the moment, Lil thought he looked rather stupid the way his mouth was hanging open and is eyes bulging with amazement and rising anger.
"How did you get in here? You're the young Nordstrom girl, aren't you?" He glared at her as though her name was a damning indictment in itself. "You leave this theater instantly or I'll be required to report you to the authorities."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lil told him mildly. "I don't think you're being very friendly. You could holler for Jake Jakowsky, of course, but it would be pretty embarrassing for you if I hollered louder than you did and swore you had been trying to rape me. Suppose he came charging down here and found me like this and you struggling with me. What would the poor man think?" To further establish her point, Lil, with one quick motion, ripped her blouse down the front, exposing her brassiereless breasts. With another quick movement of her hand she disheveled her care fully combed hair. "See what I mean? Now, do you want to see which of us can scream the loudest?" She opened her mouth and corded her neck muscles as though about to emit a piercing shriek.
"No, no!" Canfield cried, panic in his eyes as he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Don't scream," he begged her. "Let's talk this over. What is it you want, anyway? This is terrible! You won't scream, will you?"
Lil shook her head and he removed his hand from her mouth. "I just want to see the movie and to sit here all cozy and nice with you like this. You sure are handsome, Reverend Canfield." She snuggled close to him, clasping his right arm at the bicep with both of her hands and hugging it close to her. "Now that you've decided to be reasonable, can't we be good friends?"
"Well, all right," he said through thinly pressed lips, "you may stay if you wish but please have the decency to cover your bosom. It seems that the rumors I've'been hearing about you are true, after all. Have you no moral scruples at all? I suppose you realize that I consider it my Christian duty to report this outrageous conduct to your parents."
"Why don't you do that?" Lil suggested. "Mom will be alone this afternoon and I'm sure she'd enjoy your company. Daddy's gone hunting and Mom gets terribly lonely in that big house all by herself, although she does have quite a few men friends who drop, by, especially when Daddy's working or out of town. I can't make my blouse stay together. It's all torn. I didn't know ministers were so impetuous that way." She giggled. "Besides I thought maybe you'd like my breasts. Don't you think I have pretty titties, Reverend?"
Canfield responded with grim silence.
"Here," Lil said, taking one of his hands in hers and lifting it toward her chest. "Feel of them. Aren't they soft and tender? Now don't get huffy. I can still scream, you know."
Canfield, unable to think of a way out of the trap in which he found himself, suffered his hand to be held against her ripe, full breasts. They sat that way awhile and then, to his dismay, he saw that Lil had used her free hand to hike her skirt above her hips and bunch it around her waist. She wore no underwear. "I like my pussy petted too," she whispered. "You have a free hand so get it busy."
He sat stunned as she took his unresisting hand and placed it in her crotch, forcing his fingers into her moist vulva. "There now, isn't that nice? Why don't you ever make love to a girl when you were a kid? Ummm. I like this."
Lil put one hand on the front of his trousers. "Hey, what do you know?" she exclaimed. "You're getting hard. Say, you aren't such a square after all." She began to unzip his fly.
"Lil," he murmured, "you mustn't ... you shouldn't ... I'm . ... "
"Hush," she shushed at him gently, "don't spoil everything now." She took his sizeable prick out of his pants and stroked it lovingly. "Do you think I'm as beautiful as that girl on the screen?"
Canfield nodded. He wasn't looking at the screen, his eyes were on Lil's artfully sculptured thighs gleaming whitely in the dark, and on the breasts, so soft and yielding, yet sweetly firm, under his hand. She tilted her face. With a sob of anguished resignation, he met her red lips with his own, his long, graceful fingers probing deeply into the heat of her vagina.
When Canfield's prick had turned slick and wet in her hand from pre-orgasmic discharge, Lil whispered with fierce urgency that she wanted to sit on his lap. He helped her with remarkably strong hands and arms, practically lifting her from her seat and depositing her astraddle his thighs. With a moan of pleasure, she felt his long cock slide up into her cunt. She began to rotate her hips, her body swaying and her breasts bouncing in a dance of eager lust.
"Fuck me! Oh, fuck me, darling!" Lil cried. She leaned forward and pushed her breasts into his face. "Suck my tits too," she encouraged him, squealing with delight as he took a nipple between his lips and laved it with his tongue. She had not expected her affair with him to prove quite so sexually exciting or satisfying. She had entered into the daring game of seducing him with calculated and cold-blooded pur pose. Now she found that she was inflamed with desire for him, that she loved his kisses and his ardently petting hands. She wanted him to come inside of her, anxious to give him pleasure. Later, she would use his desire for her body to influence him to soft pedal his anti-vice campaign, eventually damping it out entirely, but at the moment, all she knew or cared about was that she was being most delightfully and beautifully fucked by a man who excited her as much as any man she had known.
She came with sudden violence. It was a jerky, convulsive sensation, as though the powerful forces of passion were tearing through her body like trapped lightning bolts in their efforts to be free. She screamed when she felt him respond by shooting up into her, his fingernails clawing at the cheeks of her ass.
When it was over, all but for quivering, residual spasms, she remained where she was, reluctant to lift herself from his still-hard prick. She kissed him gently, her lips tender, loving and grateful on his.
"That was wonderful!" she murmured. "For a preacher, you're marvelous."
"I never should have been a minister in the first place," he told her, hugging her and fondling her body with his hands. "I'm only a man of God from the waist up. BeloW the belt I'm a lover of beautiful women. And you're the most beautiful I've ever seen, even if you are only a child."
"Have you seduced a lot of the women in your congregation?" Lil asked, curious.
"No, although God knows I've been sorely tempted. I preach against sin while standing there in the pulpit, mentally disrobing all the pretty ones in the church, driving myself mad with secret thoughts about their breasts and their legs. Even my wife doesn't know how sex-conscious I am. She'd be horrified."
"Doesn't she like to screw?"
"No. She's frigid. I have to masturbate to relieve myself."
"Well, you won't have to anymore. You have me now. I'll do it with you whenever you want."
He kissed her warmly. "I'm so glad this happened, Lil darling. Glad you forced me to wake up and face what I really am. You've no idea what relief it is to have someone like you to talk to, someone with whom I can be honest. Is it true, as I've heard, that you run a teenaged whorehouse?"
"Sure. I'll introduce you to my girls and let you take your pick if you want, but I'd rather keep you all to myself. I love doing it with you. Hey, what's your first name anyway?"
"Stanley," he said.
"Okay, Stan. Wait 'til I get you in a bed where we can take all our clothes off and I can show you some of my specialties. I'll bet you've never sucked a girl's pussy."
"No, but that has always been one of my secret ambitions. Will you want to teach me that?"
"You bet. And I'll suck your cock too, or anything else you want. I think your prick's getting stiff again. Let's do it some more now."
"Yes, I want to, Lil. I hope Jakowsky can't see us."
Lil laughed her tinkling, good-natured laugh. "Of course he can but don't let it bother you. He was in on this from the start and he'll never say a word about it. He's one of my best customers. I've got enough on Jake to keep him quiet no matter what we do."
"You engage in blackmail, too?"
"Yep. Not you, though. And you were right about the pot and the LSD too. I'm making a fortune off of it. Just don't get the town's old biddies stirred up against me and we can have a lot of fun together. I've got a house on King Street and you can come there whenever you can get away from old Petrified Pussy."
Stan Canfield laughed. "Good name for her. Shall we do it in the aisle this time? This isn't very comfortable in the seat."
"Sure. It's a pretty lousy picture anyway."