Chapter 7

I kept thinking about licking some of the icing off that cake while they picked buckshot out of my scalp at the clinic. After Redfield and a tough deputy named Mitchell worked me over and questioned me as if I was a suspect in my own shooting, I decided to do something about it.

Mrs. Redfield was lying where I'd left her, naked as the day she was born. There'd been a hell of a lot of improvement since that day, though.

Thinking about what I'd seen before, I had convinced myself that she hadn't been asleep. That finger in her cunt was a beckoning finger of invitation, a clear direction to the place she wanted me to go.

She seemed asleep now, though. I moved cautiously forward, following the stiff prick that was tenting out my pants as if it were a pointing bird dog. When I stood over her, staring down at her opaque sunglasses, her thighs drifted slowly apart. As before, her index finger slid straight down to her cunt and probed it gently.

"I thought you got lost," she murmured. "It's still here."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to point?" I said, unbuckling my pants.

"You're doing it," she said, staring with interest at my stiff prick as she worked a second and then a third finger inside her pussy and began a slow pumping motion. "But don't bother to point it my way until you show me what you can do with your mouth."

I smiled as I knelt between her outspread legs. It was as if she'd taken a peek into my dream. I knelt there for a moment watching her as she kneaded the soft hairy flesh with her fingers and slipped them in and out of her quivering gash. They glistened slickly with her pussy-juice.

She had a delicious, golden, all-over tan. The only white spots were visible when she spread her legs all the way out, spread them so wide that the tendons of her thighs stood out like a vee directing the way to her hot cunt. Way up inside her groin, at the margin of her reddish cunt-hair, were thin slices that the sun hadn't managed to reach.

I kissed those spots first. She continued to play with herself, and her hand rubbed my cheek in an exciting rhythm as she now pumped four fingers in and out of her cunt. The odor of pussy-juice floated over me like a fog, an aroma that never failed to swell my dick to its fullest dimensions.

I kissed up and down her thighs and licked down over her salty asshole as she slipped the fifth finger inside to show me what she could do with that incredible cunt. She moved her hand in all the way to the wrist, distending the slick red lips to what must have been a painful degree.

"You trying to wear it out?" I asked.

"Don't worry, big boy," she said, pulling her wet hand out at last. "I can get it just as tight as it needs to get. I'm just doing my daily isometrics."

Now that the succulent red gash was free for the attentions of my lips and tongue, I pressed my mouth down on it and lapped up its sim mering trickle of hot juice. She flung her legs even wider and vibrated on her blanket, pummeling my mouth with her wide-open crotch.

As I said, we San Franciscans are champion muff-divers, but I like a little return on my investment. I tried to angle my way around to fuck her in the mouth, but she pushed me firmly back.

"What's the matter, Mrs. Redfield? Didn't anyone ever tell you that love is a matter of give and take."

"I'm not doing this for love, you asshole, so you give and I'll take, and if I like what I-get, maybe I'll return the favor." She paused while she twined her luscious legs around my neck and pulled my head into tighter contact with her pussy. "And since you know my name, you must know who my husband is, so you better make sure I stay friendly."

I didn't like that threat, but I sure as hell liked her cunt, so I swallowed one along with the other. I reached up to play with the gorgeous golden globes of her breasts while I rooted like a hog in her sopping muff, giving her a taste of what I could do in the cunnilingus department.

As far as I could tell, she loved what she got. She grunted and whimpered and moaned in time to my flickering flailing tongue-strokes. Each suck of my hungry lips made her quiver and twist with pleasure. Her nipples grew ruby-hard under the touch of my eager fingertips, and she grabbed my wrists to rub my hands more firmly against her breasts.

My cock was going crazy, down there all by itself, but I restrained myself firmly, telling myself that holding back like this would make it all the more pleasant when I finally spiked her pussy or her asshole or her voluptuous mouth-or maybe all three, if we found the time. I sure as hell couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing.

She wasn't kidding about her ability to tighten up her cunt. At one point I thrust my tongue deep into the juicy hole, and she clamped down on it so hard with her love-muscles that I thought for a minute she planned on pulling it out by the root. I made a stiff little dart of it and vibrated it like an electric dildo, and the walls of her vagina ballooned away from it in the involuntary response of her first orgasm.

"Yes yes YES!" she screamed, pumping her hips and her thighs in all directions and battering my recently-stitched head painfully. "Lick it-suck it-tickle it-eat me out!"

It took all the will power I could muster not to wrench my head free and replace it with my throbbing prick, but I hung on and did what I was told, driving her up to ever higher plateaus and peaks of climactic sexuality. At last even she was exhausted, and she fell back limp and sweating and begged me to stop.

All I could do was gasp as I got up on hands and knees and retracted my sore and swollen tongue. Without a word she motioned me to sit on a lawn chair. I all but collapsed back into it. everything was exhausted but my prick, which stood up as stiff and hard as a flagpole.

She came to kneel between my legs and took my stiff cock between her thumb and forefinger, examining it with a greedy little smile as she slowly pulled the foreskin back and forth and made little beads of anticipatory dew sparkle at the tip.

"Give and take, buster, you got it," she breathed, and each word carried a stream of moist warm air against the superheated skin of my cock to tantalize it even more. "I'm going to blow you till I suck the wax out of your ears."

I sighed with pleasure and gratitude as I felt the first soft moist touch of her tongue. She licked my dick as if it were a lollipop, in long, sweet, swirling sweeps, from the hairy root all the way up to the swollen purple knob that felt as if it would burst at any moment.

But even this relief became a torture as it seemed she planned on doing nothing but licking it. She licked every inch of it once, twice, three times, and when at last her lips puckered near the head and I was certain that she was going to take it into her mouth, she licked her way back down a fourth time and snaked her tongue into my pubic hair to examine the tight skin of my bulbing balls.

"For Christ's sake-suck it! I can't stand anymore!" I groaned.

"Make it last, big boy, enjoy it-you've never had a blowjob like this one before, and if you don't happen to catch me in the right mood, it might be the last one."

She was right, goddamn her! Not even the belles of San Francisco, who think of hot gism as high-protein breakfast food, could hold a candle to the kind of head this mysterious woman gave. I grit my teeth and spread my legs wider, giving her the freedom of my crotch and resolving to savor and relish every second of this exquisite torture.

She responded by going even lower, letting my balls rest on her pretty little nose while she flicked her tongue around the rim of my asshole and finally drove it deep inside, fluttering and twisting it like a captive cobra. I all but screamed with frustration as my cock was driven up to a new and unknown notch of thickness and stiffness. My hands whitened on the arm of the chair as I had to restrain myself from grabbing her head and fucking her teasing mouth.

At last she pulled out and repeated the performance, licking my balls and my cock and gradually working her way up to the inflamed and trickling tip. Compounding the torture, she took her lovely head away and knelt back on her heels.

"I don't want to waste that juice," she breathed, once again torturing me with her breathy words. "It does wonders for the complexion."

Now she took my cock in her hand and angled it down to rub the head around in slow and agonizing circles on her hard nipples and wizened areolas. Her nipples stiffened to meet the stiffness of my prick, sticking out like pencil erasers as she greased them with the lubricating fluid that was leaking so freely from my tortured rod. She went on to widen the circles and massaged the golden globes of her breasts with the head, smearing them and making them glisten.

"Please," I gasped weakly.

But even as that abject groan escaped my lips, she was moving to implement the desire that had blasted every other thought and emotion out of my heart and mind. She lowered her lovely face, moist lips parted, and raised my cock to her mouth.

And then, carrying my crucifixion one step further, she rolled the head around on her lovely lips as if it were a tube of lip gloss-as it indeed was, for it made them glisten wetly as she applied it lavishly to upper and lower lip and slowly, ever so slowly, moved it closer and closer.

Her teeth closed on it. She giggled. Her nip became firmer. I wanted to scream, but I held still and quiet while every nerve in my body sent off wild alarm bells. She relaxed her bite slightly and grazed her teeth forward, skinning the foreskin back with the pressure of her pearly white teeth and admitting the head at last-at long long last-into the moist warmth of her lovely mouth.

Tiring of that game, she released her teeth and clamped down with her lips. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking them in so that my prick was completely immersed in warm wet flesh. Her tongue began an intricate tickling glissade on the sensitive underside of my dick.

Talented though she was, Mrs. Redfield couldn't deep throat a cock the way black Josie could. I wanted to ram it down her gullet and give her a bellyfull of cum immediately, but she stopped me with her dainty fingertips to show me that I could go so far and no further. Even so, she had managed to accommodate half of my massive tool in her mouth, and that was no mean feat for any girl.

But this was a minor quibble. Even if she couldn't do that one stylish trick, she could do everything else to qualify herself as a skullfucker without peer. Never had any woman lavished such tender loving care on my tool with her lips and tongue and teeth. She wasn't just sucking my dick, she seemed to be like a pagan fanatic worshipping at the altar of some phallic deity, some deity of dick. It was as if her salvation depended on the salvation of her suctive mouth.

And even though she couldn't take every last inch, she didn't neglect those inches that had to stay out in the cold. Her fingertips kept up a soft jerking rhythm on the root, a rhythm that under-lined and complemented what her lips and tongue were doing to the tip. With her other hand she tickled my balls and asshole, using everything she had to make sure my pleasure in her blowjob was complete.

I leaned forward to stroke her shoulders and fondle her delicious breasts. She squirmed sensuously under my touch like a favored cat, and each squirm did something special for my cock as it quivered and throbbed in the tender care of her greedy mouth. She even seemed to purr, and the vibrations of that throaty vocalization added an extra-special tingle to my prick, a special little thrill that I had never experienced before or even dared to imagine in my wildest wet dreams. This incredible woman had raised cock-sucking to the level of a fine art. She was a Picasso of prick-licking, a Fellini of fellatio!

It could have lasted forever, as far as I was concerned. I could have died at that moment and I would have died happy and fulfilled, I would have been singing her praises all the way to heaven or hell. But nothing that good could have lasted. I would have had to be a marble statue not to respond to the kind of treatment she was giving my cock.

Try as hard as I would, I couldn't restrain myself for another instant. I gripped the arms of the chair painfully as I let out a howl of ecstasy and completion. Everything in me-God knows, maybe even the earwax she had promised to suck out-seemed to convert itself into fiery, jelly-like liquid and race to my cock so it could 'pump forth like a blasting geyser into the bottomless chasm of her mouth. Brain, nerves, bones, muscles, blood-all of it seemed converted to gism, it was like being swept away by a tornado as I pumped gob after gob of skyrocketing semen into the suction of her luscious lips.

I don't know where it was all coming from, but she swallowed it all, every last drop, the sinuous muscles of her golden throat working overtime as she gulped it down and sucked for more.

And at last it was over.

"Now," she said, "I think you'd better go before I call my husband."

It was twenty minutes of five when I paid off the cab in front of the office. One of the sheriff's cars was parked in the areaway, and the door of my room was standing open. I walked over and looked in. Mitchell was pawing through one of the dresser drawers. He looked up at me without interest, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and pushed the drawer shut.

"Looks like you just haven't got a gun," he said.

"Where's your warrant?" I asked. "I forgot to pick it up. Want me to go back for it and search you again?"

"No," I said.

"I'd be glad to," he said helpfully, "No trouble at all."

"Don't bother," I said. "I wouldn't want to monopolize you."

"You got a great sense of humor," he said. He looked around for the ashtray, saw it was on the night stand between the beds, and shrugged. He ground out the cigarette on the glass top of the dresser. "Yes, sir, a great sense of humor."

"How did you get in?" I asked.

"Maid. I told her you wouldn't mind a bit. Hell, I told her, a man with a sense of humor like that!"

I said nothing. He gave the room another indifferent glance and came out past me. "I guess you're doing all right, friend. You're from out of town, and that seems to be all it takes."

I turned and looked at him with my hands shoved in my pockets. He waited a minute, hoping I'd be stupid enough to swing at him, and then stepped off onto the gravel. "Well, give her back the key, huh? Tell her I said you wouldn't mind a bit." He climbed in the cruiser and drove off.

I stepped inside and closed the door, took a deep breath, and lighted a cigarette. In a minute or two I was all right. I went into the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. The bloody clothes were still lying in the tub. Nothing was badly disarranged in the room; he'd merely been killing time, hoping I'd get back before he left. I went over to the office. Josie heard me, and came out, grinning. "Miss Ida's awake."

"Good," I said. "How is she?"

"Jest fine. You know what was the first thing she asked for?"

"A three-pound T-bone?"

"No, sir. A comb and a lipstick."

Well, I thought, a psychiatrist would probably score it the same way. "That's great. Will you ask her if I can come in?"

"Yes, sir. She's been asking where you was."

She went in back, and came out almost immediately and nodded. I went through. I still had the hat on, and wondered if I could get by without removing it. Probably, I thought, remembering the slob way I'd acted when she came over to the room. She no doubt assumed I slept in it, and ate with my feet. When I stepped into the bedroom, however, she solved the problem for me. She was propped up on two pillows with a filmy blue robe about her shoulders, still too pale perhaps, but damned attractive, and smiling. She held out her hand. Well, I'd been answering questions all day.

"I'm so glad to see you," she said warmly. "I was afraid you'd gone on without even saying good-bye, or giving me a chance to thank you."

She was the only one in town, I thought, who didn't know by now that I was her lover, bodyguard, partner, hired goon, sweetheart, private detective, and the father of her three Mongolian children. She'd been asleep.

"Josie kept saying you were still around. Oh, good heavens, what happened to you?" She broke off, staring at the bandage and the hell week haircut.

"Just a little accident," I said. "Nothing. Couple of stitches. But how do you feel? You look wonderful."

"How did it happen?" she asked firmly.

Maybe a few details would do it. "Your coloring's a lot better, and there's more light and animation in the eyes-"

"My coat's shinier, too," she said. "And my nose is cool." She pointed to the armchair beside the bed. "Drop the red herring, and sit down, Mr. Chatham. I want to know if you've been hurt, and how?"

I remembered what the doctor had said about rest, and no more emotional upheavals. Except for luck and a good constitution, she could be lying there now staring blankly at the wall. No shotguns.

"Clumsiness," I said. "And not having a flashlight. I got an anonymous tip some more of that acid was hidden in an old barn out in the country. I went out there, and while I was poking around in the loft I raked my head on a nail. The acid wasn't there, either, though I think it might have been at one time."

She appeared to believe me. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "It's my fault."

"Not at all," I said. "As a matter-of-fact, I'm partly to blame for their wrecking that room."

"How could you think a thing like that?"

I told her. "I think he caught on to what I was doing when I was checking those telephone booths. It's the same man. And probably the same one who sent those two kids out here last night trying to get you in trouble with the police. When I helped you get rid of-them, he decided I was meddling too much. The acid was just a hint that I was going to do you more harm than good by hanging around. I don't know what his object is, but let's find out."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Yesterday you wanted to hire me as a private detective to look into it. You still can't, because I have no license to do that kind of work; the minute the sheriff's office could prove you were paying me, I'd be in jail. But there's nothing on the statute books that says I can't take over the operation of this motel simply because you're a friend of mine and because I'm interested in buying a part of it-both of which are true."

"You're going a little too fast for me," she said.

"We'll go into the business angle later. Obviously you don't have to sell me a part interest in it unless you want to, but as of the moment that's what the status is. We're considering it. When they call you, tell them that. As a matter-of-fact, I've already taken over the operation of it, and to some extent, the operation of I you. I've closed the motel because there's no way in God's world you can stop them from coming back and doing it to another room as I long as you're open to the public, and you I obviously can't search your guests' luggage for acid. And I've accepted the responsibility for seeing that the doctor's instructions are carried out, and those instructions were that you were to stay in bed and rest, with this whole thing off your back, until he said you could get up."

"Ridiculous," she said. "I'm as healthy as a horse."

"Sure you are. A horse that hasn't had a square meal in a month, or a full night's rest since last year's Wood Memorial. You're going to stay right where you are and let me handle it."

"But-"

"No buts. Ever since I landed in town, I've been jockeyed around by some character who thinks I'm on your side. He's finally convinced me he's right."

The telephone rang out in the office. Josie appeared in the doorway. "It's for you," she said. "Long-distance."