Chapter 11

"But why?" Donovan O'Leary howled as he heard out Vesper's blubbering diatribe. "What's happened? What makes you think you can get away with a thing like that? I thought you were keen on getting back to school. I thought you were going to give it a real try."

"Don't ask me, darling," she wailed, clinging more tightly to him. "You know I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything. It's all too terrible. I'm just not going back, I tell you. They'll have to kill me first. It's a farce. School ... life ... the whole thing. I'm going, I tell you. I'm gonna take my money ... I'm gonna run away. I'll hide ... where they'll never find me."

"They?" he pressed. "Who are they?"

Vesper flung her head back and forth savagely "No, Donovan! I won't tell you. I'm going away, that's all there is to it. I'm asking you to come with me."

"That's impossible, baby. It's ridiculous. I graduate at mid-term, I've already got a job lined up in Chicago. Can't you wait until then? We'll find a way to get married, we'll go out there then. I can't just go off half-cocked, throw away everything I've worked years for."

"You don't love me," the hysterical girl accused. "You don't really love me."

"I do, angel, I do." he insisted ardently, holding her painfully tight, working his lips in her disheveled hair. "But be reasonable. What good's love if you don't have a job, if there isn't money to get by on? Love gets kind of thin on soup-bones night after night. If you could just tell me what this's all about, tell me why you can't wait until January. It can't be that bad."

"You don't know, Donovan," she choked. "You just don't know."

"Well, tell me, then," he cried exasperatedly. "Is it a guy? Tell me who he is, I'll take care of him. And if I can't, I know some police who can. How can I help you if you won't let me?"

Vesper sighed ponderously, pulled away slightly, her expression sullen. "Forget it, honey. It just wasn't meant to happen. I knew when I came here that you'd say no."

"But if you'll just be reasonable, darling...."

Vesper stared into space. "Forget it, I said."

It was a Friday night, they were at Donovan's apartment. Another week had passed, Vesper was that much closer to be onset of another school year. It had been a haunted, mortifying week, one which, in retrospect, Vesper wondered how she'd lived through.

For in addition to the Shop-lifting chores expected of them the entire gang was now expected to staff the impromptu brothel Arnie and Gil had established in their apartment. Their gambling losses had been heavy, the girls had been kept busy with appointments almost every night or afternoon, some of them taking on three, four Johns a day.

There were no signs that business, the guys' dire need for cash would slack off in the near future. Vesper and Judy could look forward to being after-school whores, Marcy would be perpetually on-call. At least until some new members were recruited, were impressed into the vile servitude.

The changeover was not without its attendant drawbacks. For, the demands being what they were, the girls either on the street or on their backs, Vesper knew that her techniques, her caution were suffering. She was getting careless, her work was sloppy. Only yesterday she'd dropped a wallet she'd been in the process of stealing, a suspicious clerk had moved in on her. Only some fast talking had saved her from being taken to the manager's office.

Which would have been disastrous. For, her booster bag half full, they'd have had her cold.

The handwriting was on the wall. If the guys kept pressing them like they were, it was only a matter of time before they were caught red-handed.

Thus she'd been deliriously grateful that the gang had been dismissed tonight, Arnie and Gil supposedly returning to the poker table, hoping to recoup their losses. Thus Vesper had immediately turned to Donovan, had blurted her desperate, half-baked plan to him.

And now was she going to explain why she had to escape Doncastle? Why his had to be an act of faith, why he had to accompany her blindly? Not that Vesper deserved as much. But that was the way it had to be.

For what would he do, how would he react when she confessed the truth? When she told him she'd been Gil and Arnie's playmate all summer long, had traded off occasionally with Marcy Jordon? What would he say when she told him about that store detective named Sully?

And piece de resistance: How long would Donovan love her when she admitted her new vocation? When she told him she was a $10-$20-$50 (anything the traffic would bear)whore? When she told him she'd been a busy little bee this past week, that she already had bookings right through September?

Oh, she groaned inwardly, her hopeless plight making her shudder now, they really had her over a barrel! The whole stinking world had her over a barrel! How can I help you if you won't let me? Donovan had asked. Is it a guy? Tell me who, let me take care of him. And if I can't, I know some police who can.

Sure, she'd tell him. In a pig's eye! She might as well hang herself. If Donovan could only appreciate the bind she was in. She was damned if she did, she was damned if she didn't. If she told Donovan he'd drop her like a hot potato. If she risked Gil's and Arnie's retaliation afterward, went to the police, she'd be in a nice, cozy reformatory within the week. Either way she'd lose her beloved Donovan.

Small wonder she was willing to put her life on the line, willing to cling to straws, beg for a chance to put her jerry-built runaway plan into effect? Small wonder she pleaded with Donovan, was crushed when he refused her.

Now the shudders became more pronounced, he drew her back on the davenport, studied her face worriedly. "What is it, Vesper? You feel all right?"

She smiled at him wanly. "I'll be okay. I could use a drink, I guess. Some of that sweet sherry, huh?"

He rose, brought her a small glass of wine. She sipped it greedily, hungered for that alcoholic ease, she yearned for that lazy dullness. She looked about the room, heard the sonorous strains of Tchaikovsky's Fifth, the only damned classical piece she recognized, she wondered where that elusive magic had fled. How could this shabby room ever have seemed beautiful, ever have seemed inviolable sanctuary? What was happening to her? Didn't she love Donovan any more?

The panic mounted. How does a person's life fall apart with such a rush? God, dear God Can't any-body help me?

She leaned back, rolled her head slowly back and forth, sought to hurry the wine into her system, achieve that woozy limbo where worries and problems couldn't intrude. Again she clung to him. "Hold me, darling," she moaned, "oh, hold me. Never let me go. Tell me. Tell me you love me. That's all I've got left."

He held her, pressed his cheek to hers, stared beyond her shoulder into the dimly lit room. "I love you, Vesper," he intoned. "I love you so much. It took me a while to find out, but when I did ... I'd do anything for you."

"Anything but what I ask of you," she snapped.

"That's impossible, Vesper," he replied, his tone padent, that an exasperated parent might use with a child. "Can't you see that running away never solved any problems? You've got to turn, face them down. I'm willing to do almost anything, to marry you, to falsify papers if need be, so we can be married. But this is ridiculous."

"Spare me the sermons," she said tiredly. "I'm up to here with sewnons." A new thought hit her. If the wine wouldn't work, if the music, this room wouldn't work. If even Donovan's nearness, his touch failed her-

There was that one infallible panacea.

And using the act as medicine, no real desire as yet sparked within her wanting to prove to herself that she was still a woman, that she could still experience genuine, soul-carbonizing passion even after the abominations forced upon her that week-

"Let's go into the bedroom, baby," she whispered. "Let's get undressed. Let's make love." She fought to force urgency into her voice. "Make those crazy things happen inside me ... send me to the moon. Please, darling? Now?"

Confused full of intermixed pity and compassion for the child, his love swelling his heart, Donovan rose, helped Vesper up. He replenished her glass from the decanter, gave himself another dollop of whiskey. Then they started for the bedroom, their advance reluctant, almost hesitant.

Vesper was quickly naked, she lay on the bed, watched as Donovan undressed. She sipped her wine languidly. Then, as she saw his nakedness gleaming palely in the gloom, she started, was suddenly anxious to have him close, to have him touch her. She heard the clink of ice as Donovan brought his drink to bed with him.

Both of them balancing their glasses, the ritual of abeyance predetermined, they slid together, fitted their bodies tight, kissed with slow, lingering motions and explorations, let desire build slowly. There was something dreamy, even fatalistic, about their love.

Donovan's lips fluttered, opened and closed, swirled against hers, they were gentle and hard in turn. One moment they were teasing, tickling, the next they were predatory, consuming and harsh. The extremes were maddening. And then, when he slowly moved his tongue to hers, when it explored her mouth, spiraled about hers, when Vesper tasted the second-hand bite of his whiskey--

The love became very pagan indeed, lust was very quickly triggered. That clenching, tearing hand was alive in her belly all at once. She began to shudder, her legs clamped together as if that hot sensation might escape, never to be found again. "Lover," she moaned. "You exquisite lover."

She writhed, released a low, guttural sigh as his lips coursed over her throat, down her shoulder, climbed to the suddenly rigid cones of her nipples, swept onward. She stifled a thick giggle as his lips spiraled on her belly, as his tongue stabbed at her navel. Then she froze, sucked in a quick breath as his lips continued southward, as they flirted with the inner ridges of her pelvis. He wasn't going to-

His lips moved inward and downward, they brushed that crisp fleece in a wild, unsettling way. The sensation made her yearn for all sorts of primal, forbidden things. Fleeting thought of Marcy, her love, intruded, breath hot on her flesh, his lips itching her there terribly. A soft, sad chuckle broke from him, his head moved upward, his lips planting hot, delightful kisses on her flesh all the way up. His .mouth closed on one of her nipples. And where Vesper had thought she'd never want a man to love her there again in a hundred years-

"Oooh, darling," she expelled a huge breath. "That's gorgeous. You're so gentle, you're so ... perfect."

She jerked, giggled in intermixed pleasure and fright as he carefully tipped his glass, let whiskey run onto her right nipple. The coldness, the bite of the alcohol made her yip a playful protest. But then, when his lips closed on those abused caps, when his mouth became vacuum cleaner, when his tongue lapped and swirled about that crown, picked up the crumbs, she yipped for an entirely different reason.

Now her left nipple was accorded that same stunning treatment. There was no longer any doubt as to Vesper's sexuality. A voracious tiger was ripping her up inside, he was snarling and spitting.

And I thought I didn't want Donovan tonight?

It seemed her entire body was centered in that throbbing dome of pleasure as Donovan continued mouthing her, her soul, her very being with the universe thrown in besides was gathered there, compacted into one tight ball of screaming sensation. Dear God, she chanted to herself, dear God-

It was the first time Donovan had ever loved her this way, she found the novelty of it, the voluptuary fires it induced glorious beyond compare. But if she thought this sublime, it was nothing compared to what Donovan did next. Another newness almost as if he were deliberately trying to make this love that night his masterpiece, a love to be remembered forever.

He adjusted his body and hovered over her. Both their glasses emptied, put aside, they were free to devote themselves entirely to the moment's madness. Vesper sighed raggedly as Donovan's hands gathered her breasts, lifted and rolled them, began pushing her inward. There was small pain, but it was a pain she willingly endured. For, as her nipples came closer, as they actually touched, as Vesper felt Donovan's mouth close anew, as she felt his tongue squash on both buds simultaneously, as it began to circle, interlace about the shrieking tips-

"Oh, Donovan, Donovan!" she whimpered. "I can't stand it. That's the most incredible thing. Oh, no! Don't stop. Please don't stop. Where'd you learn...."

The question went unfinished. Another flame of lust scalded, purified her. As Donovan sent his free hand to the heart of her body, as he opened her, instituted still another fantastic caress. The simultaneous arousal made Vesper jitter, made her rock her head back and forth on the pillows, forced quick, coarse pantings of desire through pinched lips through clenched teeth.

And as the towering, exalting passion mounted, seemingly climbed to celestial climes: "Oh, darling," she gulped, "my precious darling! You're doing so much for me, you're driving me out of my skull! And I'm doing nothing for you. Oh, I should do something, I should...." Then the thought smashed her, froze her, killed the words in mid-flow. As suddenly as that it was decided.

Why not? she rationalized. If I can do those things for other men because I'm forced to Why can't I do them for Donovan, the man I love? She tensed. But what if he won't let me? A savage rage electrified her. I'll make him let me! I will, I will!

Then she pulled away from him, she withdrew his hand, she whined as his lips fought to recapture her. "Let me do something, darling!" she seethed. "I feel all crazy, all wild. There's something I want to do ... I must do ... for you. Something we've never done before...."

And before Donovan could recover, before he could protest-Vesper was upright, she pivoted swiftly, sent her hand fluttering down his hard, flat belly, the move part tease, part force, her fury daring him to resist her. Then her lips skittered along his belly, they veered at that banked curve of hip-bone. Now they zeroed in, the determination maenadic.

"Vesper!" he gasped as she closed on him, as he was enveloped in that liquid, compressing, hot sheath. Her head rose and fell swiftly, her cries thick, animalistic. "Let me, darling! Let me do something for you. You do so much for me, you've given me so much ... Let me show you ... how much I love you. You have to let me!"

Donovan fell back, stunned by the ferocious attack, by the demented tone of voice. Awed, confused, not knowing what to think, he did the only thing left to him. He did the thing most any man in the world would have done.

He surrendered to her wanton devices.

But only for a moment. For as Vesper went wild on him, as she began to moan and quicken her movements, as she found that love sanctified what she'd previously regarded as degenerate, Donovan could not remain passive. He was sundered by an equally uncontrollable urge to reciprocate, to participate. If Vesper could sacrifice herself like this, if she could present this fantastic self effacement-

Then he could also.

This time Vesper's resistance was futile. Fanaticism hypoing his strength, he took her legs, pulled and arranged her, squirmed his shoulders. And though she moaned, protested, begged him not to-

"If you can show me...." he called in an eerie, muffled voice, "I can show you. I do love you, Vesper!"

And together then-

But there quickly arrived that instinctively recognized cut-off time. And both Vesper and Donovan knowing they couldn't dally a moment longer, they parted, rearranged their bodies, they kissed and clutched, the fusion instantly accomplished, affected by mere squirmings and lurchings of their lower bodies. Donovan wanted to howl at the caress of that viscous containment, Vesper gasped with rapture at that masterful presence.

Her lust was a swaggering, braggart giant a hundred-foot-tall monster who easily strode the earth, who now straddled the city, stared down at her, laughed, mocked, goaded her to even more dissolute frenzies. And Vesper had never wanted Donovan, she'd never wanted a man, the things a man could do for her, as much as she wanted them at this moment! She tossed and lurched, her words emerged as mere gibberish, gurglings in her throat and nothing more.

And as Donovan rose and fell above her, as he seemingly cleaved her, as he became avenging juggernaut, as his whole body was seemingly within her, filling her, straining her, threatening to demolish her, even murder her-

That, first glory avalanched down on her, made her scream, her head seemed to explode, her ears rang at the violence of her cries. A tower of flame shone before her dazzled eyes, it seemed to grow taller, brighter, it seemed to leap to the sky, it seemed to reach for infinity, it pierced the very canopy of the heavens.

"Darling, darling, darling. It's fantastic, it's never been better. I'm going to die, I know I will." Her body worked more viciously beneath his. "I'm going to...." A very bawdy chuckle broke from her. "I'm going to take another one."

And she did, her ecstasy ripping this time, sending her spinning like some out-of-control boomerang. high against the velvety blackness of the universe. Where she wobbled, faltered, knew a soul-rocking Release. Then she slowly glided back to earth, to this bed, even as she heard Donovan groan, cry out her name, make a prayer of it. Then that elemental flurry and throb. Her satisfaction was now complete, she was whole and worthy once more. "I love you, Donovan," she murmured. Even as she blissfully slid into a doze.

But suddenly she started, broke up from that recuperative sleep, she clawed the covers, huddled to Donovan's hard, warm body. She'd been dreaming, she'd been back at the apartment again, she'd been in bed with that buck named Claude Wallace.

She recovered quickly, remembered where she was, she relaxed, breathed a fervent sigh of relief. She listened to see if she'd awakened Donovan. But no, he slept, oblivious to her terror.

Vesper tried to claw herself to that soft, warm cocoon of sleep again. But the screeching, furry-winged bats had invaded her mind anew, it was impossible. Again her brain teemed with thought of the things that had happened at the apartment this past week.

Claude Wallace was no mere nightmare. He had been back again, he'd requested Vesper, he'd willingly paid $50 for the privilege of using and abusing her body. A policy-runner, the $50 was a pittance compared to the joy, the ego-boost a romp with a white girl provided.

Vesper squeezed her eyes shut, tried to blot out the ugly pictures. That old, crepey-bodied man named Hugo, who had wanted her kneeling on a chair in the corner of the room, he standing behind her, the corner bit having some perverted significance for him. That Benny kid, who'd wanted her on all fours, who'd nearly broken her back as he'd dropped his total weight upon her at the end of the sick session. The man who'd only wanted to grovel before her. Harlow, had that been his name? For finale he'd kneeled beside the bed, had only wanted to bury his face in her body, minister to her in that servile way. Eddy, who had carried her about on himself, Bill who'd left her spine aching for days when he'd bent her back so painfully, his shoulders behind her knees.

All the rest. Harry and Mark and Jake. And-

Vesper's mind would go no further. She fought to black out the rest of the vile thoughts. She knew she'd be crying in a moment if she didn't-

She stirred herself, shook' Donovan awake. "Hey, you," she shammed impishness, "wake up. You ready yet? There's a gal here who needs your immediate attention, doctor."

"You little mink," he laughed, stretching and yawning. "Don't you ever get enough?" He struggled up. "Okay, but I'm warning you. The spirit may be willing, but the flesh is mighty weak."

"I'll see to that," she laughed, her voice earthy. She clutched him. "Here, this way."

Then Donovan was crouched between her thighs again, his hands gathering her breasts. "Yes," Vesper sighed, thrilled at the prospect of the unique love again, "like that. Both of them at the same time." The liquid laving began, those intolerable fires were restoked. She took him, manipulated him. Then, drawing him closer, beginning to hone him on herself in a very irresistible way-

Shortly Donovan was revived. Shortly they were on another journey into outer space. And inner space as well.

Vesper was hardly gone when a very perturbed Donovan O'Leary was up, flinging on only trousers and a shirt, stuffing his feet into a pair of sneakers. This whole thing's gone far enough, he thought as he stealthily let himself out of his apartment, started down the stairs. Vesper's in big trouble, trouble that can only end one way. She needs help. And if she won't give me an inkling-

There's more than one way to skin a cat, he thought, shivering as the coolish night air hit him. I don't care what, I'm gonna find out what's spooking her, I'm gonna come on with both fists flying.

He was on the street now, he glanced up and down, saw the lonely figure a block down. Moving with more deliberate stealth now, he stuck close to the buildings, began following Vesper. A home address would be a starter, he mused, the determination growing within him by the moment, becoming a monolithic vow and commitment.