Chapter 3
Frankie Dances a Titillating Watusi
Someone was moaning as if in intense pain. Occasionally a chattering noise, like a pair of dice rattling in a cupped hand, punctuated the moans.
Tony felt as though he was floating underwater in a warm, tranquil sea. He made a half-hearted effort to stir awake, then gave up and sank back into the soothing warmth.
After a while, the moaning stirred Tony again. This time it was more intense, interrupted by guttural curses and chattering. Tony turned over on his back, stretched and opened his eyes. Dobber was on the couch, knees drawn up, writhing in pain. His body trembled mightily and perspiration beaded on his gray parrot face.
Tony rubbed his eyes, slid out of bed and pulled on his pants. Dobber looked up at him. Pain fired his wild, glassy eyes. "I've got them bad, Tony," he croaked. "I've got to get a fix or I'll go crazy. Help me, Tony ... please." A chill seized his body and he doubled up, teeth chattering.
Tony wheeled around, suddenly angry. "Goddamnit, Dobber, why did you ever get started on that stuff? It's like grabbing the rope of a runaway horse."
Dobber moaned again, body shaking. Tony's anger vanished. He'd smoked marijuana himself for kicks and he, too, would probably have been on heroin now if he hadn't seen what it was doing to Dobber.
Tony walked over to the dresser and took a glass out of its waxed paper covering. He reached for a half-empty whisky bottle and poured it half full. He walked over and pressed the glass to Dobber's pale lips Dobber took several gulps, then coughed.
Tony set the glass down on the floor by the couch. "Finish that. Maybe it'll help some. I'll see if Race will give us money for a fix."
Tony walked over to the door adjoining the apartments. He tapped on it lightly. No answer. He tried the knob. It was unlocked. Tony opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Race? Margo?"
The place was empty and stank like a sewer. There was a dark circle of vomit on the carpet near the door to the bathroom.
Tony closed the door and walked back to the couch. Dobber was sitting up, sipping from the glass, held in trembling hands. Tony leaned down and picked up one of the suitcases they had taken from the college kids. He placed in on the couch, flicked open the lid and rummaged through the clothing. Dobber rose shakily. He reeled over to the dresser and poured himself another drink.
Tony pulled out a pair of swim trunks and held them to his waist. A little large, but maybe they would stay on. He skinned down his trousers and pulled on the trunks. "Feel better?" he asked Dobber.
Dobber took a long pull at the whisky and nodded uncertainly.
"Feel up to walking on the beach? With all these wild-assed college kids down here, there must be some pushers working."
Dobber drained the glass. "What'll we do for money?"
Tony shrugged. "We'll roll some sonofabitch if we have to."
Tony walked over and opened the outside door. It was late afternoon and very hot. The humid air smelled of seaweed and salt water. Tony stepped outside. Dobber set his glass down and followed at a rubbery gait.
They left the motel and walked toward the beach. Quite a few people were out, stretched under umbrellas, tossing beach balls or splashing in the blue-green surf. The water looked good to Tony: it had been a long, frigid winter in New York.
The beach was filled mostly with college kids, many of them bronzed, willowy coeds wearing brief bikinis. Tony had a feeling he was going to like Florida.
Tony glanced up and down the beach, looking for a red bikini. Finally he spotted her, stretched out on the sand near the surf, an admiring semicircle of men clustered about. They sat on towels and leered at her body which was 98 percent naked. Tony walked over to her and Dobber tagged behind, like a friendly dog.
Margo was lying on her back on a beach towel looking up at the sky through sunglasses. Her bikini pants couldn't have been more than two inches above her pudendum, the halter less than that above her nipples.
Tony leaned down and scooped up a handful of sand. He sat down beside her, held his hand over her beautifully curved tummy and let the sand trickle through his fingers, spilling into her elongated navel. Her semicircle of admirers leaned forward, watching Tony enviously. She sat up and took off her sunglasses.
"Oh, Tony. Did you just get up? Isn't this beach wonderful?"
"Been in the water yet?"
She laughed. "Are you kidding? This bikini wouldn't last a minute in the water."
It was strange. Only a few hours before Tony had seen her naked. He'd teased her tits with his tongue and his hands had fondled and explored every part of her body. Yet, somehow, in the brief bikini, she seemed sexier than she had been with no clothes.
Margo glanced at Dobber. "God, you look like a ghost. You really had the shakes bad last night when we got here."
Tony leaned nearer Margo. "Where's Race?" he whispered. "Dobber needs a fix in the worst way and we don't have a dime."
Margo shrugged. "He left several hours ago. He's out working on his big deal, I guess. How much do you need?"
"Two ten spots should do it."
Margo reached out and touched his raw skin. "That tile floor was hard, wasn't it?" She winked at him. "I'll get the money for you, Tony. It'll be repayment for the kicks you gave me last night."
She rose, picked up her beach towel and shook the sand out of it. Her green eyes flicked casually over the ring of admirers. Her gaze settled on a balding man with a little pot belly and thick, black hair on his chest and stomach. He had an expensive-looking diamond ring on his little finger.
Margo smiled at the small fat man and walked toward him slowly, curves vibrating. Tony noted with curiosity that when her left breast jiggled, there was an equal and opposite counter-jiggle in her right buttock.
Margo spread her towel on the sand near the little bald man. She bent over to smooth out the towel, and her breasts looked as if they were going to pop out in the fellow's leering face. She manipulated her curves onto the towel without slipping out of the bikini and smiled at the little man again.
Tony rose. "I'm going to take a dip," he said to Dobber. He strode toward the surf. God, it was a funny feeling to have a woman sell herself for you. Almost like being a pimp.
Tony waded out into the ocean. The water was warm and tingled his skin. When the surf was waist deep, he drove into a breaker, surfaced and swam with strong overhead strokes for about fifty yards. Then he stood and smoothed his hair back out of his eyes. He glanced back to shore. Margo was sitting next to the hairy, fat man. They were talking.
Tony turned, dived into the surf and swam parallel to the breakers, head down.
"Watch out!" a girl shouted.
Tony rolled over, splashing water wildly. A girl swept past him on a surfboard, missing him by inches. Surprised, Tony turned to watch her as she moved in toward shore on the wave, tottering precariously at the front of the board. She had long, straight red hair which fell half-way to her full, curving buttocks. Her bikini was wet and most of her buttocks were out of it. She twisted sideways on the board to retain her balance and Tony's eyes widened. She had the largest set of tits Tony had ever seen on a woman. The skimpy halter had all it could do keeping them inside. No wonder she couldn't keep her balance.
The breaker began to turn choppy as it neared the beach and the surfboard shot out from under the girl. She hit the water on her back, went under, then surfaced laughing. She retrieved her surfboard and waded ashore. Two fellows on surfboards streaked past Tony. They almost made it all the way to shore before they lost their balance and went in. They retrieved their surfboards and followed the girl onto the beach.
Tony had never surfed, but it looked like fun. He stood in the chest-deep water and let the breakers rock him in toward shore. He couldn't keep his eyes off the redhead. God, what a set of tits! And he'd been impressed by Margo's.
The redhead pulled up her sagging, wet bikini and stretched out on her board. Her unbelievable breasts arched up like twin Pike's Peaks over the brown curving slope of her stomach. The two fellows sat down beside her on the sand. All looked like college students.
Tony glanced back down the beach. Margo and the little man were walking together toward the motel. She was a head taller than he. Tony grinned. That little guy was going to find out he'd hooked up with more woman than he could handle.
Tony felt a strange, hollow feeling in his stomach. Again he considered that he'd never had a woman sell herself for him before.
Tony waded ashore and flopped, dripping, down beside Dobber. "I guess Margo found a client. Damn, it makes me feel rotten to have to get money that way."
Dobber shrugged. "Do you think it's any worse than rolling some cat?" He wiped beads of perspiration from his face. "What did you do to her last night to make her come through for us like this?"
Tony felt his earns burn. "She's a good lay." Tony settled back on the sand and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. The sun was dropping toward the horizon.
It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes later when Margo, long legs rippling, walked to where they lay on the sand. She sat down beside Tony and pressed some bills into his hand. The money was worn and very dirty. Tony took it reluctantly. "Thanks, Margo. We'll pay you back later."
Margo shrugged and lay down on the sand. "It was nothing. I didn't even work up a sweat."
Dobber gripped Tony's arm. "Come on, Tony, let's go. I need one bad. I can't last another night without it."
The sun was setting and people were leaving the beach. Tony and Dobber rose. "We'll see you later, Margo," Tony said.
Margo smiled. "Don't forget. We still have lesson Number Two."
They sauntered down the beach toward a string of refreshment stands.
"Keep your eyes open, Dobber. You know these guys better than me. If this were the Bronx, all we'd have to do would be to find a beatnik and ask him where he gets his."
"How much money did she get?"
Tony unfolded the filthy bills. "Twenty-five dollars."
They walked over to a soft drink stand where several young people were gathered, munching hot dogs.
Tony unfolded a five dollar bill and put it on the counter. "Two cokes."
A balding, middle-aged man who needed a shave badly drew two drinks and gave Tony his change. The man wiped his hands on a grease-spotted apron and leaned over and thrust a plug into a socket. Lights flared on across the top of the stand. It was getting dark fast.
Dobber picked up his drink, bringing it to his lips with both shaking hands. The proprietor eyed him with curiosity.
Tony's eyes flicked over the crowd. Most of the kids looked like college students. None had the appearance of dope addiction. Tony thought he heard rock 'n' roll music coming from somewhere up the beach. His eyes moved along the shoreline. About two hundred yards up the beach he saw the flicker of a campfire and the wavering shadows of people dancing.
He motioned to Dobber. "Looks like a little action up that way." They finished the cokes and moved along the shore toward the fire. A fat, yellow moon was rising over the ocean, reflecting off the whitecaps as they roared into shore. The music grew louder, punctuated by shouts and giggles. A cool, moisture-laden breeze was blowing in from the ocean.
As they neared the fire, Tony saw several surfboards and inflated rubber rafts scattered about. "Looks like the beach set's having a shindig. I've heard they're pretty wild. Maybe we can find a contact."
The girls were in bikinis or short beach jackets, dancing the Watusi, Frug and Swim with bronzed young men in slit-leg bathing trunks. A battery-powered record player was blaring full-blast.
Tony and Dobber paused on the fringe of the flickering firelight and watched the dancers. One deeply tanned brunette in a short terry cloth beach jacket was dancing the Jerk with abandon, her long straight hair whipping about her head and shoulders. As she raised her glistening thighs, the beach jacket flared up and Tony caught a brief glimps of a shadowy triangle.
Either she had on a very brief dark bikini, or she was all set to go bare-assed swimming later that night. The girl spun around, pumping her arms and wiggling her hips. Her short jacket whipped up and naked white buttocks winked at Tony.
Tony watched the brunette's twinkling fanny with admiration until another dancer caught his eye. It was the redhead who had almost knocked his head off with her surfboard. She was still in her bikini, still slightly damp, dancing the Swim with a tall, bony guy who looked like a basketball player. As she pumped her arms, her mammoth breasts arched out, flexing and vibrating under the bronze flesh. Large nipples thrust forward, outlined against the tight, wet fabric of her brief halter. She was short, but built like a brick outhouse.
Tony's eyes followed her as she danced. How he envied that bag of bones she was dancing with.
The record ended and Mr. Basketball walked over to a cooler and took out a couple of beers. Tony moved away from Dobber and edged up to the redhead. "You owe me a dance," he said.
She turned, surprised. Her eyes flicked over his bronzed, muscular body. "Really? Why?"
"You almost killed me a while ago with your surfboard."
She laughed, eyes twinkling. "Was that you? It would have served you right. Only a damn fool swims with his head down with surfers around."
Someone put on another record and the music blared out again. Tony looked at her questioningly. She shrugged and began dancing the Swim. Tony danced with her, finding it hard to keep his eyes off her bouncing breasts. And she knew where he was looking. Smiling coyly, she shook her hips and shoulders and every curve trembled.
Tony moved closer to her, chest almost touching those vibrating breasts. "I'm Tony Martino from Brooklyn. We don't do much surfing up there.
She broke into the Jerk, leaning far over. Her halter slipped down a bit and little half moons of un tanned, creamy flesh appeared. She glanced up and smiled at him. She ran a pink tongue over exceedingly white teeth. "Frankie Wyler. What's your alma?"
Tony looked at her, puzzled. She was amused at his befuddlement. "What's your school?" she repeated.
Tony felt a touch of embarrassment. "I I'm not in school right now. You a coed?"
She nodded. "Florida State. Journalism major." The beat of the music stepped up. She turned her back to him and bounced her hips. Her ripe buttocks flexed and trembled in the bikini, the wet material crept up to expose little areas of white, un tanned flash. Desire mounted in Tony and he hoped it didn't show through his brief swim trunks. Through the corner of his eyes Tony saw Mr. Basketball watching them, two beers clutched in his large, bony hands.
Frankie spun around to face Tony again, Frugging like crazy. Tony sensed the record was about over. He decided he'd better ask her now, or lose his chance.
"Where can a guy get a little horse around here? I've got a friend who needs some in the worst way."
She stopped dancing, eyes turning cold, unfriendly. "How should I know? Listen "
"Wait " Tony caught her arm as she turned away. "I'm on the level. See that skinny kid over there?" He nodded toward Dobber. "Look at his hands."
Frankie eyed Dobber suspiciously, then turned back to Tony.
"I'm not a cop," Tony reassured. "Look ... if my friend doesn't get some tonight, he'll go crazy."
"I guess if you were a local cop you'd have more sense than to swim with your head down." The suspicion left her eyes. "Ask the man with the whiskers at the soft drink stand near the pier for some joy weed."
The record ended and Mr. Basketball started toward them, holding the two beer cans like hand grenades. "You'd better shove off," Frankie warned. "He's awfully possessive."
"I don't see anything that could make me leave," Tony said cockily.
The guy ambled up and handed a can of beer to Frankie. "Your beer's getting warm." He eyed Tony coldly. "Do you have an invitation to this shindig, buster?"
Tony spread his legs, planting them firmly in the sand. He looked up at the guy who must have been at least six five. Tony's right fist knotted.
Frankie moved between them. "I invited him over, Marvin. And stop acting like a goddamned hodad. Get Tony a beer." Her proud red head scarcely reached his bony chest, yet she was ordering him about like a Marine master sergeant.
The big guy's giant knobby fingers flexed, his eyes hard with jealous hate. Tony knew the guy wanted to knock his head off and dribble it around the beach.
Mr. Basketball turned reluctantly and shambled back toward the beer cooler.
"God, where did you pick up Frankenstein?" Tony asked.
She smiled. Her eyes flicked again over his strong build. Tony saw a spark of interest fire her eyes. "Can a guy rent a surfboard around here?" he asked.
"Sure. You thinking of taking up the sport?"
"Yeah. It looks like fun. Will you be on the beach tomorrow?"
"Maybe." Her eyes were teasing, yet interested.
"Frankie!" someone called from the other side of the campfire. She smiled at him, turned and ran through the crowd of writhing dancers.
On the edge of the firelight near the surf a girl screamed, then giggled. Several guys had spread a beach blanket down on the sand and two of them were trying to force the girl down on it. She was brunette, in a striped bikini with her pony tail tied with a red ribbon. The guys dragged her over to the blanket and all three fell down on it in a squirming heap.
The girl squealed again. "Charles, you sonofabitch!"
One of the guys rose, laughing. He held up a striped halter. "Anybody for a game of bounce-a-titty?"
The other guy scrambled up. The girl lay on the blanket giggling and covering her naked breasts. Each of the four guys grabbed a corner of the blanket and heaved. The girl shot into the air, arms and legs flailing. Her naked little breasts, outlined by her dark tan, glistened like polished ivory in the firelight. Her pink nipples, large in contrast to her breasts, had the waxy glow of rose petals.
The girl plunged into the blanket and the boys, laughing, tossed her up again. She did an involuntary somersault and landed on her back in the blanket. Yelling, the guys dropped the blanket to the sand and one of them leaned down and grabbed the threshing girl. They struggled a bit, then he rose, triumphanty holding a pair of striped bikini pants over his head, waving them like the Star Spangled Banner.
The guys grabbed the corners of the blanket again, set their heels in the sand and heaved. The girl shot skyward, trying vainly to cover herself with her arms and hands. She plunged back to the blanket on her back, arms and legs outstretched. The long, thick, gleaming hair of her head also carried over to her lower regions. Yelling, the guys pitched her into the air a couple of more times, then lowered the blanket to the sand, tossed its folds over her and ran.
A clammy hand gripped Tony's arm. "You find out anything, Tony?" Dobber asked, his parrot voice quavering.
"Yeah. The fellow at the soft drink stand sells it." Tony turned reluctantly from the beach gaiety. They drudged back along the beach. After a hundred yards, they came to a small lagoon.
"Let's take a short cut," Tony said. Instead of following the beach, they cut across the rocky, shell-laden shore of the lagoon. The moon was directly overhead now, its dim yellowish glow lighting their way.
They rounded a large boulder and Tony stopped suddenly. There, in the shallow, clear waters of the lagoon was a giant flat rock. Stretched out on the rock, her damp, bronzed flesh glistening in the moonlight, was a naked girl. She was brunette and suntanned all over, even down to her proud, finely formed breasts which arched up toward the moon as if bathing in its soft glow. As Tony halted, his foot hit a seashell, sending it clattering down the embankment and splashing into the quiet water. The girl looked up, startled. She had a beautiful oval face and her dark hair fell well past her shoulders. Tony got only a glimpse, before she spun off the rock and dived into the water, long hair trailing.
Dobber trudged up, and bumped into Tony. "What what's the matter?"
"Didn't you see the girl?" Tony asked. "What girl?"
"The one on the rock," Tony snapped. "Didn't you see her?"
"Naw, I didn't see anyone, but I was trying to watch where I was stepping."
"You did hear a splash, didn't you?" Tony persisted, beginning to doubt his sanity. He'd been so preoccupied with sex the last couple of days, he was wondering if he wasn't conjuring up images of nude mermaids on rocks.
"Yeah, I heard a splash. I thought it was a fish. Tony, are you sure "
"Come on," Tony said, irritated. "We'd better catch that guy before he closes up for the night."
They skirted the lagoon and cut back toward the beach. Tony glanced over his shoulder at the large rock, protruding from the gleaming water of the lagoon like the ghostly back of a water dinosaur. Damn, had he been seeing things?
They trudged back to the beach through deep white sand that sucked at their ankles. The proprietor was getting ready to close up his stand for the night as they walked up. A solitary customer, a teen-ager munching a hot dog, stood at the counter.
The unshaven proprietor glanced up at Tony and
Dobber, annoyed. "I'm closing."
Tony leaned over the counter. "We want to buy some joy weed."
The man's little blood-shot eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid. I only sell soft drinks and sandwiches."
"Frankie sent us," Tony persisted.
The man took off his filthy apron, rolled it into a grimy ball and stuck it under the counter. He studied Tony suspiciously. "Frankie who?"
Tony thought for a moment, then remembered. "Frankie Wyler."
The man leaned toward Tony. "Describe her."
" A redhead, short, with big knockers."
The teen-ager finished his hot dog and walked away.
The man leaned nearer. He smelled of onions and garlic. "What kind of weed you need, man?"
"Horse."
The man reached under the counter and probed into a cigar box. "I only got one packet left."
"How much?" Tony asked.
The man looked at Tony, then glanced over at Dobber's trembling hands. His little eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Fifteen dollars."
"You sonofabitch, that's robbery," Dobber protested. "I get it half that price in Brooklyn."
The man reached into the cigar box and brought out the packet of white powder. He smoothed his greasy fingers over it, watching Dobber's face.
Dobber's eyes widened like an owl's. He ran his tongue over pale, dry lips.
"Fifteen dollars," the man repeated.
"We'll take it," Tony said. He tossed the money on the counter and took the packet.
The man turned out the lights at the stand. Tony and Dobber headed back toward the motel. Dobber reached for the packet. "Let me hold it, please Tony. Gawd, it seems like a year since I had a fix."
Dobber took the packet and ran his fingers over it tenderly. He was breathing hard, gasping. "Oh baby, baby, baby," he said exultantly, talking to the packet as if it was alive. "You're going to make me grow, grow, grow! I'll be big as a mountain and I'll ride the world with spurs!"