Chapter 1
She was so proud that her smooth breasts refused to rise and fall in a calm manner. Her eyes sparkled with admiration, and she stroked her hair to one side in an aloof manner, as though thinking that the little gesture might take away from the obvious devotion on her face.
Around her, the posh club's audience was entirely intent upon the performer before them. He was the hotest act to hit Chicago since the fire, with the flair of a Liberaci, the poise of an old trooper, though the handsome, brown-haired man at the piano was no more than in his mid-twenties.
The piece he was playing came to its crescendo-like finish and the crowd rose to its feet in applause. The woman's smile broadened with even deeper worship. The young pianist had been adjudged superb by the entertainment critics, and they had run out of adjectives to praise his superb renderings of classical and popular music from all periods including modern jazz and rock. As far as the people from Chicago were concerned, Drew James was their discovery, they had made him an overnight success, at least in the Windy City. But they knew it was only a matter of time before he was known nationally.
Acknowledging the applause with a winning smile that combined both youthful shyness and pleasure, the pianist sat down once more at the baby-grand piano, nodded to the orchestra behind him and proceeded to give his admiring public an encore. As he began to play, there was an audible sigh as every woman in the large, handsomely decorated supper club gazed with longing at the good-looking man. The men, however, although appreciative of Drew's playing, settled on a different attraction-a ravishingly beautiful female sitting alone at the small table not far from "ringside."
Even in the soft light of the club, it was easy to see that the girl was an exceptional example of young womanhood. She was about twenty-two, with long platinum-blonde hair that hung in soft waves around her shoulders, perfectly framing the innocent beauty of her face. Her skin was perfectly clear and white, save for a natural blush of redness in the cheeks. Her eyes were a sparkling sea-green, her full, sensuous lips the color of ripened cherries. Despite the attention of the men, however, the pretty young girl was intent only on the pianist, and her appreciation of his talent was even more apparent than that of the other women.
I'm so lucky, she thought to herself, so wonderfully lucky to have Drew for my husband. He's so talented, and so handsome. Every woman in this club wishes she were me, but oh, my darling, none of them could possibly love you the way I do.
The sound of a chair being moved out from her table suddenly diverted the girl's attention, and she found herself face to face with an unexpected companion. He was a small, stocky man, with close-cropped red hair and the face of an ex-boxer. Smiling somewhat slyly at the blonde girl, he sat down next to her.
"Hello, Candy. Mind if I join you?"
"Why ... no, Lou, not at all."
Although she tried not to show it, a flicker of revulsion passed through the young wife's suddenly tensed body. Even though Lou Grady was Drew's agent, and the manager of the Star Club, she found it hard to like him. It wasn't that he was ugly, although his blunt face and chunky build always reminded Candy of a bulldog, but there was an indefinable air about him, a certain attitude that made him seem as if he was always leering at her or about to suggest something dirty, that made her distrust him instinctively from the first day she had met him. Even though he had given her husband his first big break, the pretty young blonde always felt uneasy in his presence.
Lou Grady was not unaware of Candy James's reaction. He had felt it time and time again in his forty-five years, but it didn't bother him one bit. His power, he knew, did not lie in his looks or personal charm. Casually he adjusted his chair so that it was right next to the pianist's wife.
"The kid's playin' real good tonight," he murmured, looking sharply into Candy's evasive green eyes.
"Yes ... yes he is."
She could feel his thigh touching hers, and the young wife tried to edge her chair further away from the stockily built agent, but each time she moved he was right there, brushing his leg lightly against hers, as if by accident. Despite her feelings, however, Candy knew she had to at least be polite to Grady. After all, he was Drew's agent. He had seen Drew playing weekends in a little suburban bar and given him the contract to play the Star Club, taking him on as a personal client as well.
"Yeah, Candy," the agent said, leaning in toward her, "Drew's gonna go places. And I'm gonna help him every step of the way."
He reached over and patted Candy's hand, curling his thick lips upward in a toothy smile. The young wife had to fight the desire to jerk her hand away, and instead casually reached for a cigarette, using it as an excuse to once again try and keep her distance with the older man.
"I want you to know, Lou," she said, trying to smile warmly, "that Drew and I really appreciate what you're doing for him."
"Don't mention it, kid. Drew's got talent. Real talent. And he's got the looks to back it up, too. Look at the way these old dames just drool over him. That means money in the cash register. Couple of big club dates, Vegas, a few TV spots, a record contract, and he'll be right up there with the big ones."
"You really think so?"
"I know it. 'Course, it all depends on cooperation, if you know what I mean. Nobody gets nowhere in this business without a little cooperation."
His small, gray eyes locked with Candy's, and the agent stared intently at the nervous young wife. At that moment, however, there was another burst of wild applause as Drew James finished his set. The young blonde pulled her attention away from the balding agent and began to clap with the others, watching while her slender husband bowed to the audience.
Oh Drew, she thought, I wish Lou Grady wasn't your agent. I hate it when I have to be alone with him.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw her husband thread his way through the crowd toward the table.
"Darling, you were wonderful tonight," Candy exclaimed as Drew sat down to join them. She kissed him on the cheek, as much for Lou Grady's benefit as for her husband's.
"Thanks, baby. Yeah, it was a good set, wasn't it. And the audience, terrific , ... just terrific. But I could sure use a drink ... yeah, a nice little drink would set me up fine."
As he spoke, Candy realized that her young husband had already had a good deal to drink. His breath had a telltale liquor smell, and his eyes were glazed in a strange sort of way that his blonde wife knew was a clear sign that he had had more than a few slugs of Scotch in the dressing room before the show. It always amazed her that no matter how much he drank it never affected his performance. He could play the most complicated pieces with no problem, even if he was stoned to the gills. Yet it depressed her terribly when he drank so much, and lately, it seemed, he always had a drink in his hand.
"Why don't you have something to eat first."
"Eat?" the young pianist remarked, laughing tipsily, "Hell, why eat when I can have a nice drink. Calms me down after the set, you know?"
"Hey, Drew," Lou interjected, also aware of his client's problem with alcohol, "you better go easy on the booze for a while. You're valuable to me, but I don't want you falling down drunk in the gutter."
"Ah, what are you talking about," the handsome husband replied. "You two are coming on like I'm some kind of alcoholic. I just want a drink, that's all. Keeps me loose." He laughed again, then turned to his pretty wife and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "But if it makes you nervous, baby, then I'll stay cool tonight."
"Thanks, Drew ... I ... I'd feel better if you did."
"Anything for you, Candy. You know that. Besides, he glanced at Lou Grady, winking, "I got something else in mind. I'm in the mood for a little ... shall we say, a spin with Lady Luck?"
Grady smiled at his young client, knowing full well what he meant. As well as having a weakness for alcohol, the handsome pianist also had a weakness for gambling, and he held his booze better than his hunger for the games of chance. Although it was illegal in the State, there was a private room, located two floors above the supper club, reserved strictly for "club members" or "business associates." In that room there was a complete gambling layout, rivaling anything Las Vegas had to offer. Of course it was strictly private, and, Grady knew, would remain that way as long as the right people were paid off.
"So you want to play the wheel, huh?" the agent whispered conspiratorially. "Well, why not. Why not? Let's go upstairs."
The Star Club "Annex," as its privileged patrons often jokingly called it, was a huge room almost as large as the supper club below, only without the genteel-elegance decor of the latter. The Annex was ultramodern, with a gleaming white and silver bar covering one entire wall. Leather couches, chairs, and floor pillows, in black, white and shades of gray, were everywhere. In addition, there was a huge roulette wheel, crap and blackjack tables, and every other conceivable gambling device-a sumptuous Las Vegas in the heart of Chicago, providing a private playground for well-heeled businessmen, gangsters, movie stars, and anyone else "in the know."
Candy James sat at the bar, glancing periodically to the roulette table at the other end of the room where Drew and Lou were involved with the game. She sipped lightly at her Manhattan, trying to sort through the confusion of thoughts that raced through her brain. In so many ways her life was just perfect. She had a handsome husband who was one of the best pianists in the country. Everybody was saying that it was only a matter of time before he would be a star. Yet she didn't like Lou Grady and the whole world of people at the Star Club, particularly at the Annex. And now, with Drew's drinking and gambling getting worse every day, the young blonde wife found herself growing more and more nervous about the future.
"Another drink, Candy?"
It was Bill, the bartender, a pleasant man in his middle thirties.
"No, I think I've had enough. I've got to go home soon anyway. Got to be up by noon to get to work."
"Still working hat-check downstairs?"
"Oh, sure. I've got to. We ... we need the money."
"Money? I thought Drew was making some good dough here."
"Oh, sure ... it's just ... well, you know how he likes to gamble. He gets a little crazy sometimes and...."
"And gambles away his salary, is that it?"
"Yes ... I'm afraid so. But it's only temporary, Bill. It's hard for Drew ... he's under a lot of pressure now, and he says it lets him get his aggression out ... I know when things ease up, after he really makes it ... it won't be the same."
"I sure hope so, Candy. You know I've seen a lot of guys just get hooked in that gambling thing. Worse than booze sometimes. It can be a real killer."
"But not for Drew, believe me. There's one thing that means more to him than drinking or gambling, and that's his talent. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt it, I know that."
"You're probably right. I'll tell you, Drew's one of the best performers I've ever seen. He'll make it, all right. Looks like he's doing okay at the tables tonight, too."
Both Candy and the bartender knew, from the young husband's shouts of glee, that he was having a winning streak.
"Well, I think I'd better get home, Bill. See you tomorrow."
"Bight. Good night, Candy."
The young blonde wife moved through the room toward the table where her husband was enthusiastically, and somewhat drunkenly, gambling. Waiting for a momentary lull in the game, she drew him aside. "Darling, it's late..'."
"Late?" he snapped somewhat sharply, "HelL it's earlyl I don't want to go home yetl"
"I ... I don't want you to leave, Drew ... I ... I just wanted to tell you that I thought I'd go on home because I've got to get up for work in the morning."
"Yeah, sure," he mumbled distractedly, "see you later. I'll be home soon, don't worry."
He turned back to the game, patting her clumsily on her rounded buttocks. Feeling somewhat wounded and ignored, Candy turned and went through the room toward the door. As she moved through the crowd, the men instinctively turned to glance at her ripe young body, fully revealed by the clinging black sheath dress that she wore. Their lust-filled eyes travelled over the thrusting mounds of her unusually large breasts that pressed eagerly against the material of her dress, down the hourglass curves of her waist and hips, and finally admiring the slim, shapely perfection of her legs. As she passed, there were occasional remarks and suggestions, but the pretty young girl was hardly conscious of the attention. She thought only about Drew.
He's so ... so different when he's been drinking, she thought unhappily. I know it's not him, it's the atmosphere of the club ... the need to suceed ... but ... I wish he wouldn't get so cold toward me.
It was ironic, she realized, that it was she who was partly responsible for his big chance. She had been working as a hat-check girl at the Star Club and, on a night off, had seen Drew working at Luci's Hideaway out in Cloverdale. The pretty blonde had been so impressed with his playing that she went backstage one night to compliment him, then one thing led to another and after a few weeks he proposed marriage. After the wedding she brought him down to the Star Club and persuaded Lou Grady to at least give him a tryout.
Was it only three short months ago? she wondered, amazed. So much as changed since then. So much. It started off so beautifully ... like a dream come true. And now....
Now, because of Drew's gambling, they were living on the money she earned as hat-check girl, barely enough to pay expenses. She'd pleaded with him to stop gambling, since at the moment, they were behind in the rent, but it had only led to violent arguments. Finally she reconciled herself to the fact that there was no way to stop him, and that once he was more sure of himself, was more of a success, it would stop. Besides, she knew that there weren't many places like the Star Club "Annex." Once his career got going he would be far away from the temptation. At least she hoped so.
Leaving the club, she walked slowly home, away from the bright lights of the Loop, heading toward a lower-class residential district. Finally she stopped. A short way down a dimly lit street a sign flashed on and off: Palace Hotel.
Palace Hotel, she remarked wryly to herself, that's a laugh. It's certainly no palace. She gazed intently at the building, looking toward the window where she knew the hotel manager lived. Old Mr. Ferguson. He always seemed to be at her heels night and day whenever she left the tiny two-room apartment that Drew and she had rented there. Now, with the rent three weeks behind, she couldn't face seeing him. He had been hounding her for the money, and giving her the same lascivious looks that Lou Grady gave her. He was like all the others, and there was no mistaking what his dark, rat-like eyes were implying.
She stepped back out of the light and watched until she was satisfied that he wasn't awake, and then quickly slipped inside the hotel, went up the narrow, rank-smelling stairs to the rooms.
Ten minutes later the pretty young blonde wife sat on the edge of the old, creaky hotel bed, sipping slowly at a scotch and soda and waiting for the tub to fill. The drink, and the soft music that came from the portable radio on the bed stand, did little to dispel the gloom that had settled over her that night. Her brain reeled with confusion and anxiety about her husband, and now small tears of unhappiness formed in the corners of her eyes as she sat alone in the shabby hotel apartment.
"No," she murmured quietly to herself, "I won't cry. I mustn't. I'm being stupid. Stupid and silly."
Quickly she finished her drink and went into the small kitchenette, putting the glass in the sink. Turning, she went into the bathroom, unaware that her every move was being observed.
The Palace Hotel had once been the private home of a wealthy Chicago businessman, and faded reminders of its former splendor could still be seen in the woodwork and ceilings. But it had been more than forty years since it had been a stately residence, and slowly, as the neighborhood changed, it had fallen into decay until now it functioned as a transient hotel. The once-splendid rooms were carved up into small apartments housing a few old people living alone on pensions, a few travellers, and a few "in-betweens" like Drew and Candy, a temporary dwelling for the homeless. The owner of this crumbling building was old Mr. Ferguson, who lived in the rooms next to Drew and Candy. Now he sat alone, concealed in the darkness of his room except for a glimmer of light on his face: illumination that came from a hole that he had drilled in the wall and through which he could clearly see the James's bedroom.
He was a short, fatty, sloppy man about fifty-five years old, with a few remaining wisps of hair. Hoping that, as usual, Candy would return late with her husband, he waited with suppressed excitement to watch her take her clothes off, to watch her and her young husband fucking. But tonight he had a special treat, the answer to his prayers actually, for the ravishingly slender blonde girl was completely alone, alone to perform just for him. While he waited for her to finish her bath, he drank periodically from a bottle of cheap Muscatel, the sound of his nasal breathing increasing impatiently as he waited for Candy to appear once more. Suddenly, he held his breath. The bathroom door opened and Drew's wife came into the room.
She was wearing only a thin lacy nightie over her brassiere and panties as she moved into the bedroom, unaware that she was being watched. Quickly she mixed herself another drink and then moved to stand in front of a full-length mirror. Sipping the Scotch, she sighed with contentment as the warmth of the liquid spread through her body, easing the anxiety she felt. Gazing at her sleekly rounded young body, the young wife felt a glow of satisfaction as she realized that her appearance was still as fresh and attractive as when she was a teenager. The strain and tension that she felt within was, to her relief, nowhere apparent from the outside.
I still weigh the same as I did five years ago, she thought to herself, experiencing an odd sort of satisfaction that seemed to mitigate her unhappiness. Of course I really can't tell with this nightie....
On the other side of the wall, old Mr. Ferguson watched as if hypnotized while the slender blonde female slowly untied the ribbons of her nightgown. His heart began to pound furiously as he watched her drop the flimsy garment to the floor so that she stood dressed only in her white brassiere and panties. Unconsciously he let his hand travel down to the stiffened shaft of flesh that throbbed hotly in the crotch of his trousers and began to rub it sensuously as the young girl studied herself in the mirror.
In the bedroom Candy was staring intently at her voluptuous figure, checking scrupulously to make sure she hadn't put on any extra weight. She stood at first with both hands on her hips, her legs slightly spread, while her eyes travelled down to her feet.
It's funny, she thought to herself, my ankles are so slim they don't look as if they'd support me.
Her gaze travelled upwards, lingering momentarily on her calves, then upward to her long firm thighs, pleased that her legs still retained the tapering slenderness she had always been so proud of. The young wife let her hands wander over the silken smoothness of her thighs, then up across the taut flatland of her belly, then moved upwards toward the fully thrusting mounds of her brassiere-encased breasts.
In the other room, concealed in the darkness, Mr. Ferguson gasped as he eagerly watched each sensuous move of the pretty young wife. He was pleased with the fact that he had hit upon the idea of boring a hole in the wall and concealing it with ventilator grills, so that he could watch the erotic performance whenever he wanted. Now, as Candy James stood almost ( naked in the bedroom, he could feel heated waves of lewd desire pulsing in his rigidly straining penis as it thudded against the confines of his constricting trousers. He leered intently through the hole in the wall, periodically drinking from the bottle of wine and barely able to conceal his steadily mounting excitement.
Meanwhile, Candy cupped the full flesh of her breasts in both hands, raising them, pleased that they were so firm and jutted proudly outward, even without the help of the brassiere. Drew had always praised her looks, and particularly her sensuously ripened breasts, and it made the young wife proud and happy to know her curvaceous body pleased her man.
Oh Drew, I wish you were here now, she wished inwardly, as her nipples began to grow taut and tingly from her touch. I wish you were here to caress my breasts with your wonderful hands.
There had always been something special to her about her handsome pianist-husband's hands. It wasn't only that he could make incredibly beautiful music with them, but there was a warmth and sensitivity in his fingers that she felt whenever he touched her. It was almost as if the feelings that he often kept inside of him could come out more easily in his hands. Sometimes, when he ran his hands over her naked body, the pretty blonde girl almost had a complete orgasm from the excitement alone. Now she stood with her eyes half-closed, hardly conscious of what she was doing, remembering all the good times she had shared with her handsome spouse, trying to lose herself in memory. Almost as if in a dream, she reached behind her and unsnapped the hooks that held her brassiere in place. The restraining garment fell to the floor, and as the cool evening air brushed across her naked gleaming breasts, the red buds of her nipples quivered erect, shivering with delight.
Still holding her breasts upright for inspection, Candy moved back a little from the mirror until she backed up against the bed. Her head reeled with thoughts of her young husband, and the effects of the Scotch she had been drinking earlier-combined with her dreamy erotic mood-caused waves of warm desire to ripple through her man-hungry body. Unable to resist the rising spell of excitement, she lay back on the bed, and as she did the coolness of the sheets against the rising warmth of her skin seemed to double the surging sense of passion that was overtaking her.
What am I doing, she thought, half-struggling to resist the delicious mood. I mustn't ... I mustn't....
But there was no resisting the raging thrust of desire that now began to take hold of her so relentlessly. It was as if the frustration she had felt the past few weeks, the unhappiness, the worry, were suddenly swept away in a turbulent ocean of passion. In her mind she imagined her young husband when she first met him, before any of the trouble began. They had been happy then, deliriously happy, and the troubled young wife longed to return to those innocent days only three months before.
"Drew," she murmured, "Oh Drew ... Drew ... "
Unconsciously her hands reached down and began to tug at the elastic waistband of her white bikini panties, pulling the sheer nylon garment down over her hips and legs until finally, she lay on the bed completely naked, moaning her husband's name over and over.
From his hiding place, Mr. Ferguson was racked with a lewd hunger as he watched the voluptuous young blonde remove the last of her underclothing. He gasped loudly as he saw Candy run her slender hands down between her thighs and finally come to rest on the raised mound of softly curling, blonde pubic hair. The old man could scarcely believe what he saw, and his painfully straining cock was responding with all the vigor of raw lust. Suddenly he heard her begin to moan aloud, and his ears strained to catch her words.
"Drew ... Drew ... I want you ... please come to me, my darling ... I've got to have somebody now ... I'll go crazy if I don't ... I need you ... Drew ... I want to be fucked ... I want to be fucked ... I need somebody to fuck me...."
Something seemed to snap in the old man's head as he heard her words. Caught in the grip of an overwhelmingly powerful lust, he rose up from the chair, half-dizzy with obscene excitement and, half-stumbling, ran from his room, drawn as if in a trance to the nakedly writhing young girl in the hotel bedroom.
Meanwhile, unaware of anything but her own uncontrollable passion, Candy thrashed around violently on her bed, her eyes closed tightly as she began to thrust her outstretched fingers in and out of her hotly dilating cunt. With her other hand she massaged her erect little clitoris to a mind-blowing sensitivity. Dream images of her young spouse rose up in her brain like a hallucination of frightening reality. It was almost as if Drew were there with her, pistoning his lust-stiffened penis in and out of her warmly welcoming cunt. Faster and faster Candy fucked her eager fingers up into her wetly throbbing vagina. Rampant flashes of almost unbearable thrills tore through her flailing young body. The shamelessly aroused young wife was so overwhelmed that she didn't hear the door open, nor was she aware that the light had been turned off. All she could see, behind her tightly closed eyes, was her husband. Drew. Soon, however, she became aware that someone else had joined her on the bed, somebody was there with her. Oh God! It was Drew. She was sure. It could be no one else. He had come home to her.
"Oh my darling," she cried, "Oh my God, I need you so muchl AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUUUUUCKKK MEEEEEEEE!"
The words burst from her lips in broken, gasping phrases and her hands clawed at the man's back, pulling him with all her strength against her eagerly reaching hips. The passion-drenched young wife moaned incoherently from deep in her throat as she felt the hotly throbbing head of his cock slowly part the moist lips of her pussy and slip rigidly inside.
"Oh YEEEESSSSSS! OH MY DARLING, HURRY!"
The incoherent young blonde felt a great, roaring heat filling her belly, swelling and expanding the sensuously undulating walls of her vaginal canal as the long hard cock drove up into her cunt like a blazing log. Her mind spun deliriously; whirling pinwheels of color and light blinded her to everything but the raging torrent of desire in her loins. Throwing her frantically kicking legs wide into the air, her fingernails dug into his naked buttocks and aided his pounding rhythm as the man began to thrust into her with savage force. An explosion was building inside of the mindlessly aroused young wife, with each new thrust of his stiff, ramming cock she felt a new wave of ecstasy ripple outward from from deep within her grinding hips.
"UUUUUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHH!" she cried wildly, "YEEEEESSSSS! harder, harder! FUCK ME HARDER, DREW!"
Old man Ferguson was nearly berserk from the lewd excitement that rocked through him, and he knew he couldn't hold back his orgasm much longer. He strained against the naked young blonde, driving himself as deeply as he could and trying desperately to hold back as long as possible.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Candy suddenly screamed, "FASTER! FASTER!" Her fingernails raked his back as she strove to reach her torrid climax, "I'M GOING TO CUM SOON ... SOON...."
Candy clung to him, arching her back higher and higher as the impending explosion grew and churned deep in her belly. The lust-crazed female cried over and over like a wounded animal, her face distorted into a mask of unbridled passion. Then, in the next moment, like a blinding, searing thunderbolt, she was there! I'm cumming ... YES ... YEEEESSSSS ... CUUUUUMMMIIINNGG."
At the same time the old man also reached the pinnacle of his desire, and grunting like an animal, he suddenly jetted scalding white streams of his sperm into her body convulsing pussy. His lust-swollen cock jerked within her clasping cuntal walls, each convulsive shudder spewing out new streams of male seed into her hot buttery depths. Candy strained against him, hanging on with all her strength as she throbbed and cried out her own passion. Foaming streams of creamy liquid bubbled out from her hair-lined vaginal hips and rolled down the quivering crevice of her buttocks to the sheets below. Moments later, the roaring tide of her mindless passion ebbed away and Candy fell back against the bed, her head lolling to one side and soft mewling sounds of contentment escaping from her lax mouth. The man collapsed next to her, panting with exhaustion.
"Oh, Drew," the young wife murmured, "thank you so much...."
In the next moment, however, the young blonde wife froze as she began to realize, for the first time, that the man was not her husband!
"My God! MY GOD!" she screamed. "Who are you?"
Hysterically, she jumped from the bed, stumbled across the room to the light switch and flicked it on. The room was suddenly filled with a blinding brightness. Moments later, her eyes adjusted to the glare.
"Oh no ... no ... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Not believing what her eyes saw, Candy frantically grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her now-trembling body. It was impossible! How could old Mr. Ferguson have come in and ... and fucked her without her realizing it! A violent chill of horror ran through the delirious young wife and she suddenly ran for the dressing table, picking up a huge glass ashtray. Meanwhile the old man hastily began to dress himself.
"Get out of here! GET OUT OF HERE!" the girl screamed, running toward him and aiming the ashtray at his head. But Ferguson quickly ducked, so that the heavy object shattered instead against the bedroom wall. Then, turning, he quickly grabbed the girl's arm and threw her to the bed. Then he stood over her, glowering in triumph.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. James," he sneered, "but when I heard you calling for someone to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours I just couldn't help myself, now could I? And I gave you what you wanted," he added proudly. "I made you cum!"
"You filthy animal," she hissed, her eyes flashing hate, "I'll call the police! I'll have you arrested for rape."
"Now that would be a good one," he replied, laughing cruelly, "an old man like me raping you. More likely the police would believe me when I tell them that you offered yourself to me...."
"I wouldn't ever do that. Ever!"
"Oh ... you might, Mrs. James ... to pay for the back rent you owe me. That happens all the time. But it's much more rare to find old men like me raping hotel guests. Hard to believe, isn't it? But for a pretty young thing to offer her pussy in lieu of payment, well, that's not so unusual."
Tears of anguish formed in Candy's eyes, and though she tried to hold them back it was useless. Soon her body was racked with sobs and she huddled on the bed in terror and anguish.
"What am I going to do?" she moaned piteously.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. It's best not to make any trouble. And besides, I'll just consider your rent paid in full. That will make your husband happy, and that's what you really want, isn't it?" He turned and started for the door, then, at the last minute, turned back to face the miserably weeping young bride. "You know, I always like to help out a young married couple. It gives me a nice warm feeling, deep down inside. Know what I mean?"