Chapter 1
Sex in a '59 Chevy
The thigh was pressed firmly against Tony's. The throbbing heat of it penetrated Margo's sheer red dress and sent disturbing shivers up Tony's lean legs and into the center of his desire.
Tony shifted uneasily on the car seat. He took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his none-too-clean T-shirt, lit one and glanced at Race who was hunched over the wheel, a silly, intoxicated grin on his face. He seemed to be smirking at some secret joke. The light from the dashboard washed across Race's pale, gaunt face, making it stand out skull-like in the shadows of the car. He wore a wide belt with a large, flat silver buckle. Two racing cars were engraved on it.
Margo shifted on the seat beside Tony, inching closer until the delightful curve of her buttocks was hot against him. Her short skirt crept up six inches past her knees, exposing most of her thighs. Her legs were well tapered and looked smooth and soft as silk.
Margo glanced at Tony out of the corner of her eyes, a slight, impish smile on her face. She probably had been a very beautiful woman five years ago. Now she was like a slightly faded Christmas tree on New Year's Day. Even the thick makeup couldn't cover the hard lines about her mouth and between her arched eyebrows. But she still was one hell of a sexy broad.
A groan of frustrated agony rose and died in Tony's throat. God, how he wanted her! His fingers itched to touch those hot, silken thighs, to work their way up, gently stroking, to the thatch of her womanhood. He had an almost uncontrollable impulse to grab her shoulders, lean her back against the seat and kiss her hard on the lips; then strip the flimsy silk dress from her body and blend his bullish hardness into her soft womanly warmness.
Tony shifted again on the seat, stretching his long legs. Margo turned and leaned toward Tony, smiling. Her green eyes glinted evilly. "Are those Levis getting too tight for you, honey?" Her hand moved to his thigh and pinched. She tossed her hair back and laughed teasingly. Then she moved away abruptly, toward Race.
Tony swore to himself. Dammit! She was Race's woman, but he wanted her so badly his thighs ached.
Tony glanced at Race again. The man's thin lips were still curled in that mysterious smile, his small black eyes squinting into the darkness, following the headlights along the twisting highway. The speedometer needle crawled past ninety, and the tires sang on the hot pavement. Tony could hear Dobber snoring on the mattress in the back of the Chevy station wagon.
Tony looked out the side window at the blur of night landscape. His thoughts, too, seemed blurred and out of focus. This morning he had walked to school like millions of other high school seniors and tonight he was half-stoned and headed for Florida with a couple of people he had known only a few hours.
Race flexed his fingers on the wheel. "Pass me the embalming fluid, baby. The old body is starting to feel some aches again." He had the deep, vibrant voice of a radio announcer.
Margo leaned forward, snapped open the glove compartment and pulled out a pint of whisky. Her red dress was cut very low and a half-bra jutted her lush breasts up and out. Her hair too coarse to be naturally blonde brushed Tony's face. Perfume filled his nostrils in a sickening sweet cloud. Another groan rose and disintegrated in Tony's throat. Those lovely tits! He'd give his right hand to get his hand on one of them.
Margo uncapped the bottle, took a long pull at it and passed it to Race. She squirmed on the seat, wiggling so close to Race she was almost sitting in his lap. The red skirt rolled up higher and she made no effort to pull it down. Tony could see the frilly lace edge of her panties. Damn her! Didn't she know what she was doing to him?
Margo's hand moved to Race's thigh and stroked, slowly moving up, to that area of a man's greatest sensitivity, brazenly massaging.
Race drained the bottle and tossed it out the window. He looked at Margo and grinned. "You got hot pants again, baby?"
Tony felt his face redden in embarrassment. He leaned nearer the opened side window to let the breeze flow across his head and shoulders, pretending not to see what Margo was doing with her hand.
Margo leaned over and kissed Race behind the ear. "Aren't you tired of driving, honey? Why don't you let Tony take over for a while and we'll get into the back and ... rest."
Race's thin lips twisted into a shallow smile. If he had been better groomed he would have looked a lot like Jack Palance. But his teeth were yellowed from tobacco and he needed a shave and haircut. His nose had the reddish glow of an alcoholic's with little blue veins throbbing noticeably.
Race slowed the car, then pulled off the highway. Gravel drummed beneath the fenders as the car stopped.
Race opened the door and got out. "Take over, will you Tony baby?"
Margo slid out the driver's side, thighs spread. Her skirt rolled up, showing most of her panties. They, too, were red. The pulse pounded at Tony's temples like little men with drums. He moved under the wheel and took it with damp hands.
Race opened the back door, reached in and shook Dobber roughly. "Come on, hophead. Up front."
Dobber stirred awake, whining. He raised, digging at his eyes with grimy fingers. He was skinny as a scarecrow with a face like a parrot. His eyes were glassy, wild. Tony knew he had taken a shot of H before they had gone downtown in the late afternoon.
"Whatsamatter?" Dobber protested. "Are we in Florida yet?" His voice even sounded like a parrot with a high clipped inflection.
Race shook Dobber's bony shoulder again. "Naw, stupid. Get up front."
Dobber rose to his knees shakily and clambered over the top of the seat beside Tony. He took a pair of thick-lensed glasses from a shirt pocket and pulled them over his beaked nose. He blinked into the darkness.
The rear door closed. Tony put the car into gear, pulling back onto the highway. He heard movement in the back of the car. There was no rear seat, only a worn mattress on the floorboards. Clothing rustled.
Tony glanced at Dobber. "Better watch the road," he whispered.
Dobber shrugged. "Give me a cig, Tony."
Tony reached into his pocket and tossed him the wrinkled pack. Dobber's skeletal hands shook as he took out a cigarette and struck a match. The flame wavered about the cigarette. Tony reached out and steadied Dobber's wrist so he could light it. "You got any more H?"
Dobber shook his head. "I'll have to get some soon, Tony, or I'll get the chills." He looked desperate. "You'll help me get the money, won't you, Tony? There's got to be pushers in Miami."
Tony nodded grimly. Somehow Dobber had always seemed like a younger brother to Tony. They had attended the same schools in Brooklyn until Dobber dropped out two years ago. His father operated a small dry cleaners.
Margo moaned, then giggled in the back of the station wagon. Tony glanced into the rear-view mirror. The light from the dashboard cast a dim glow over the back of the car. Race was on the mattress with Margo astride him. She was bending over to kiss Race, her back to Tony. Her dress was pulled up past her waist and Race was stroking her sassily curved buttocks which jutted out into skin-tight panties.
Tony's hands tightened on the wheel until they whitened. His right wrist began to throb. Tony looked down at it, then flexed his hand, wondering if it were sprained. Tony liked the pain because it brought back a satisfying memory: The smug, smiling face of that rich kid the school's social leader as he crawled from his white Lincoln convertible; then Tony's fist, knotted hard as a gnarled tree stump, smashing into the kid's face. Tony could still feel the impact of the blow in his hand, feel the nose bone snap under his hard knuckles and the hot blood squirt between his fingers. The kid had bumped Tony's battered motor scooter which was parked at the curb, then made a sarcastic comment about the dilapidated chariots of the lower classes.
Tony hadn't even tried to explain the situation to the little bespectacled principal when he was expelled from school that afternoon. After all, what good was his word against that of a rich businessman's son? He'd learned the hard way what little regard school officials and the cops had for a slum-section kid with a name like Martino.
Bodies shifted in the back. Margo giggled. Tony glanced again into the rear-view mirror. Margo had shed her dress and was astride Race wearing only her red bra and panties. Race's hands were at the elastic band of her pants, rolling them down. Her smooth flesh was nicely suntanned, and she must have gotten it in a bikini. As Race rolled her panties lower, the tan ended and the milk-white, silken flesh of her lower buttocks appeared. The contrasting white-tan made her delightfully rounded buttocks stand out in the gloom, sassily inviting a pinch. Race rolled the pants a little lower. Margo long, naked legs rippling turned sideways on him, grasped the elastic band of the panties and stripped them down, hunching her body up as the pants rolled down her lower buttocks. Little muscles flexed across her satiny lower stomach as she stripped the panties down her slender legs and tossed them aside. Tony caught a quick glimpse of misty blonde hair as she twisted back astride Race, her hands moving to his belt buckle.
Perspiration broke out on Tony's forehead as he reluctantly glanced back to the road. God! God! God! He'd never wanted a woman so badly. He'd crawled atop his share of little high school girls who'd wanted to explore the mysteries of sex but Margo was a fully developed, lush and hot sexpot who obviously knew how to take a guy into moaning, cursing ecstasy.
Tony flexed his damp thighs nervously. He glanced at Dobber. "Do you think we should have left a note with our families to let them know where we were going? They may have the cops after us." He was trying to take his mind off the sex orgy in the back with a little conversation.
Dobber shrugged. "My old man couldn't care less. He's probably figuring up the money he'll save on my board right now."
Tony smiled bitterly. "My old man stays drunk all weekend. It'll be Monday morning before he misses me." Tony's mother had been dead for several years. A fleeting thought of his older brother, Tom, passed through Tony's mind. He'd promised Tom, a first class petty officer in the Navy, that he would finish high school.
Dobber leaned toward Tony. "What kind of big deal do you think Race has working in Florida?" he whispered.
Tony shook his head. Race was one of those irritatingly vague guys who liked to be mysterious. He'd only told them that there was big money and a lot of young, hot women waiting for them in Miami.
Tony knew next to nothing about Race and Margo. He had only heard Race talk about being a rock 'n' roll disc jockey and a stock car driver at one time. Dobber and Tony had met them in an East Side bar that afternoon after Tony was expelled from school.
Tony had run into Dobber on a street corner and they had gone into the bar to "celebrate" Tony's dismissal. Knowing they were under age, the bartender had refused to sell them drinks. Race had invited them to his table and offered to buy them beer if they would pay the entire tab. They sat at a table with Race and Margo most of the afternoon with Tony spending the last of his money.
Tony glanced into the mirror again. Margo was leaning forward, her back to Tony, reaching around to unhook her bra. Her white buttocks flared in the semigloom. She unsnapped the bra and her breasts blooped forward heavily. The bra slipped and snagged just above her nipples. She twisted to one side, peeled off the bra and tossed it away. Her naked white breasts spilled down in lush quivering fullness. The brown nipples, surrounded by an aurora of pink, were large as pecans. The size of her breasts shocked Tony. The little pointed breasts of the high school girls he'd squeezed scarcely filled one hand. But these were tremendous--a double handful--like soft, quart-sized scoops of vanilla ice cream on her suntanned torso. Tony could see Race's naked chest on the mattress. Margo, still kneeling astride Race, bent forward. Race reached up and grasped a breast in each hand. Margo glanced over her shoulder, smiling straight into the rear-view mirror.
Tony hastily cut his eyes back to the road. Goddamn her! The bitch knew he was watching.
Dobber yawned, leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Unlike Tony, he couldn't have cared less what was going on in the back of the car. Heroin was his only lust.
Sounds rose from the rear of the car fleshy noises. "Oh ... Oh," Margo moaned. Tony couldn't keep his eyes from the mirror. Margo was kneeling astride Race, leaning back with her hands grasping his ankles, breasts jutting out. Her flaring white buttocks rotated in little circles.
Tony reached up and twisted the mirror around. He wiped his arm across his drizzling forehead and locked his eyes on the road. He was breathing hard. Hell, a guy could only take so much. He reached over and flicked on the radio to cover the glutinous sounds of their coupling. He glanced at the gas gauge. It was hovering near empty.
Ten minutes passed, then Race moaned loudly as if someone had jerked out one of his molars. Margo cried out. "Oh God ... God Gawd!"
Then there was silence in the rear of the car. The music purred on the radio, it's sound blending with the hum of the tires. The skies began to lighten around the edges as dawn approached.
Race rose in the back and leaned over Tony's shoulder, looking at the dashboard. He'd put on his clothes. "Goddamn, kid, you drive like an old maid. We'll never get to Miami at this clip."
"We're going to need gas soon."
"Nuts! You got any money, kid?"
Tony shook his head. "I'm flat. Spent it all on the drinks."
Race gestured toward Dobber who was snoring with his mouth open. "How about hophead here?"
Tony shook his head again. "He's flat, too."
"Cripes! I've gotten myself hooked up with a couple of deadbeats." He looked back. "Margo, you got any money?"
Margo raised up, smoothing back disheveled hair. She had put on her dress. She shook her head. "Don't you have any of that fifty left that we got from the trick with that Arizona rancher?"
Race snorted disgustedly. "Naw, I dropped it on that slow-motion nag in the third." He shrugged, then smiled mysteriously. "I'll think of something. Now get out from behind that wheel, Grandma Moses. I want to make a little time."
Tony slowed the car and pulled off onto the road shoulder. Race slid behind the wheel and Tony climbed into the back. Race jammed the car into gear and spun the wheels as he pulled back onto the highway. Tony settled down on the mattress. He glanced at Margo. She was leaning against the side of the car smoking a cigarette. Through lazy, half-closed eyes she watched him like a cat gazing at a bird on a low limb. One of her long, slender legs was raised, bent at the knee. Her skirt crept up high on her thighs. Tony saw her undergarments which were rolled into a little red silken ball beside the mattress. Desire was a burning thrust in his lower stomach.
Margo snubbed out her cigarette on the floorboard and blew twin streams of smoke through her nostrils. She leaned toward Tony, smiling impishly. "How was the show?" she whispered, eyes glittering.
"What show?" Tony said, pretending ignorance.
Her mischievous smile broadened. She stretched her long legs cat-like. "I saw you watching in the mirror. Do you like the way I do it?"
Tony felt his ears burning. His Adam's apple seemed large as a grapefruit. He swallowed noisily.
She touched his thigh, leaning closer. "I'll bet I could teach you a lot of things -- things you'd like." Her voice was a low purr. "I'll bet you're a good bed athlete, aren't you?"
Tony's throat was dry as sandpaper. He gulped again.
She winked. "Wait until we get to Miami "
She leaned back on the mattress and closed her eyes.
"God, I'm bushed." Tony looked down at her, wondering if her breasts, unchecked by a bra, were going to pop out of the low-cut dress when she breathed. They didn't, but it defied the laws of gravity.
Tony turned away, drew a deep breath and watched as the sun inched above the horizon. Damn! A guy could only take so much!
The lower rim of the sun had just appeared when Race peered ahead up the highway, then slowed the car. He smiled, pleased. "Great, great! Just the break we need."
Tony raised to look over Race's shoulder. Two hitchhikers were standing beside the highway. They looked young, with college stickers on their suitcases.
Race glanced at Tony. "I'm going to pick up these two weeds, kid. You get up here and drive. Back me up when the time comes. You understand, kid?"
Tony opened his mouth to ask a question, but Race had stopped the car and the two guys were running over with their bags. Race grabbed Dobber and shook him. "Get into the back, hophead."
Dobber groaned. "Goddam, why doesn't someone make up their minds?" He slid over the seat and lay down on the mattress, his back to the sleeping Margo.
Race and Tony got out of the car just as the two guys ran up, breathless.
"Get into the front seat, fellows," Race said. "We may want you to do a little driving for us."
Tony slid under the wheel as the two guys got into the car. He took their bags and passed them to Race in the back.
The two guys looked typically collegiate, with short-cropped hair, clean, square features and healthy, well-fed bodies. They wore New York University T-shirts, brown slacks and soft suede slip-on shoes.
One of the college guys turned to Tony. A ruddy scalp showed through his closely cropped blonde hair. "You people going all the way to Miami?"
Tony nodded.
"That's great," the other said. He had reddish hair and a few freckles. He leaned down and pulled up his socks. "We'll be there in time for the Saturday night blast."
Race leaned over and rested his arms on the back of the front seat. "You college kids out of school for the spring holidays?"
The blonde kid nodded and smiled. It reminded Tony of the sardonic, superior smile of the kid he'd slugged the day before. Tony had an immediate dislike for the two guys. They were too clean-cut, too healthy he doubted that they had worked a day in their lives. He knew they never had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to pedal down ice-coated streets delivering newspapers or had to steal a loaf of bread so as not to go hungry all day.
"Yes, it's sort of an annual flight of the lemmings," the blonde kid said. He glanced into the back where Margo's tanned thighs glistened.
Tony disliked the kid's high-flown Boston accent, his imagine words. Tony guessed that both kids probably had Cadillac convertibles back at college and were only hitchhiking for kicks.
Out of the corner of his eye Tony saw Race reach for something in his pocket. The highway curved and intersected with a dirt road up ahead. Race's thin lips twisted into an ugly smile. He lurched forward, circling the blonde youth's neck with an arm. A switchblade knife shot open in his other hand and he pressed the honed blade against the kid's ruddy throat. The youth's mouth gaped like that of a fish out of water. "What ... wha," he croaked.
"Don't move, college boy, or we'll have a little bloodletting." Race's hard voice sent chills up Tony's spine. "Turn off that road," he ordered Tony.
Tony wheeled the car off onto the dirt road. The red-haired youth found his voice. "Where are you taking us?"
"Shaddup," Race growled. He gestured for Tony to pull over to the weed-choked ditch.
Tony stopped the car. He was scared. Stealing a loaf of bread was one thing. But robbery-
The red-haired youth jumped forward, his hand streaking for the door handle. Race released the blonde kid, flipped the knife over in his hand and rapped the butt end against the redhead's temple. The youth sagged forward, stunned. The blonde kid twisted around, his hands grabbing for Race's wrists. Before Tony knew what he was doing his rock-hard right arm lashed out backhanded, his knuckles slashing across the youth's mouth. Tony felt teeth snap under his fist. The kid bent double in pain. He moaned, spitting blood and broken teeth on the floorboard.
"Nice going, kid," Race said. He gestured with the knife. All right you two weeds. Outside."
The two kids climbed out of the car groggily. All their fight was gone. Race rose from the car and gestured with the knife. "Okay you weeds, strip. Toss your rags over here."
The two youths looked at him flabbergasted. Race slashed the air with the knife. "Come on, dammit!"
They reluctantly stripped down to their shorts, throwing their clothes to Race. "All the way, you weeds. I want to see your naked asses shining in the sun."
The two peeled down their shorts and tossed them to Race. The blonde kid was overweight, with the beginning of a beer belly. They looked ridiculous standing there, like a couple of fat, plucked roosters. Tony laughed.
Race threw the clothes into the car and crawled in beside Tony. "Let's go, kid."
Tony wheeled the car around and headed back toward the highway. He glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw the two kids squatting in the weeds by the roadside ditch.
Race went through the clothing and took out their wallets. He flicked each open and hastily counted the money. "Not bad, not bad. Almost two hundred. I wonder why those weeds were hitchhiking?"
The car hit a sharp bump as Tony turned back onto the highway. Dobber groaned and Margo raised up in back, sleepy-eyed. "What's going on?"
Race held up a fistful of bills. "We just had a visit from the Good Fairy, sweetheart. And look what she left us. But this is just chicken feed. Wait till we get to Miami, baby."