Chapter 4
At first, Nick just stood there, dumb with disbelief. Then he checked the bathroom, the closets, the dresser drawers. All of Trudy's clothes were gone, but under the pillow on the unmade bed he found a hastily scrawled note.
"Will call in the morning. Can't explain. Don't worry. I love you, Trudy."
Too exhausted from his bout of infidelity-as he saw it now—with the Marnham's, Nick crawled into bed, praying that everything would work out, hoping that nothing had happened to Trudy Heath now that he had found someone, someone who really counted.
Nick was dreaming of Trudy, planning countless exotic erotic entertainments with which they would amuse themselves, when someone began knocking on the door to his room. At first, he thought it was in the dream. But when the knocking persisted, he blearily opened his eyes, glad that it was Sunday and he wouldn't have to report for duty.
The little shits know I don't like to be disturbed, he thought to himself, calling out to find out who was there. A voice replied that it was the maid come to change the linen.
Why hasn't Trudy called? he thought to himself, glancing at the alarm clock. It was already past ten and the phone hadn't rung. Bleary-eyed, he heard the maid calling out again. Strange, he thought. I can't place the voice.
He knew all the people who worked at the hotel and his ears perked up. This was someone new. He yawned and stretched his arms. "Just a minute," he called out as the maid waited outside of his door. He pulled the covers back and got out of the bed, glancing down with a smile at this morning cockstand.
He hadn't pissed yet and his cock stood up between his grizzly thighs, stiff and erect in all its glory. Accustomed to sleeping in the nude, he decided to have his fun at the expense of the woman who waited outside his door. Not bothering to put on his bathrobe, Prescott went to the door and grabbed hold of the knob.
At the worst, he decided it would be good for a laugh. And God knows, he said to himself, that's something I could really use. Why hasn't she called? Where the fuck is she?
Quickly, he flung the door open and stepped back, his arm sweeping down to usher her in. At first, she didn't seem to notice. She kept her eyes down, looking timid. She was older than he had suspected, a rather dumpy looking woman in her late thirties or early forties. Her hair was streaked with gray, pulled back into a tight and severe little knot. She reminded Nick of a German hausfrau and disappointed, he waited for her to drag her cleaning cart into the room. It was piled with fresh towels, linens and other supplies.
But as he stood over the sink, surveying the wreckage of the previous evening's strenuous entertainment, something seemed to click. Holding his breath, he dropped down into a crouch, pressing his eye to the keyhole.
Sure enough, his suspicions were not in vain. For at that moment, the short stoutish woman was busily opening and closing the dresser drawers. She found the crumpled note Trudy had left, read it quickly and began to move her cart back towards the door. But Nick was too fast for her.
In an instant he bounded out of the bathroom, his huge pendulous and red-tipped cock looking for all the world like a weapon. He flung himself on her, grasping her around the waist as she spun around and tried to get away from him.
"Not so fast, lady," he said gruffly.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, reaching down to the pocket of her skirt. Suddenly she pulled out a short single-bladed knife, lashing out at him.
Nick wasn't about to give up. His eyes glimmered, taking on a fierceness as he stepped back, looking for a weapon. The woman began to laugh, holding up the gleaming knife blade, moving towards him. "You're getting in the way, mister," she said. "We need cooperation and you're getting in the way." She laughed, reminding Nick of a witch as she ran towards him, her heavy black work shoes banging on the floor.
He picked up the sheets and threw them at her, trying to grab hold of her wrist. He shook her arm, twisted it back as she cursed him. The knife clattered to the floor and he held her with the blankets covering her face, pushing her towards the bed. He kicked the knife under the bed and threw her down on the mattress, pinning her there as he quickly straddled her.
Then he pulled off the sheets, pressing her arms down with his knees. "Okay, bitch," he said, trying to catch his breath.
She bit down on her lower lip and then spat at him. But he wasn't about to be intimidated. Every time the woman tried to get away, he pushed his knees down against her arms, blocking off the supply of blood and making her scream with the sudden searing pain.
"Who sent you? What were you looking for?"
She refused to talk.
Violet, he thought. Trudy's aunt must have sent her here to find out about her niece. "You know what I'm going to do if you don't talk," he said, "I'm going to rape the shit out of you, lady. You're gonna fucking bleed." He reached down and ripped open the buttons on her uniform.
The woman continued to put up a fight, banging her fists back and forth. But Nick was in control, sitting on top of her. He was surprised she didn't scream, but he figured that she thought she still might be able to get away from him. She clenched her teeth and her knuckles went white and bloodless as she tried to hit him. But all her blows landed on the mattress, her arms pinned to her sides, numb with pain.
There was only one thing to do, Nick realized. And that was to use the same kind of tactics Joey Marnham was so fond of. He raised his hand and slammed it down across the woman's face. Her head fell back and she moaned. "Not as young as you used to be, shit!" he snarled, growling angrily as he ripped off the top half of her black satin uniform.
The woman tried to pull away. "I'll kill you," she moaned.
"Who sent you?" he said again, shoving the top part of her uniform down to her waist. Encased in a white brassiere were two large flabby tits. His fingers itched as he stared at them and unable to control what he felt was a sudden streak of sadism, his cock twitching up and down as if it was having a fit all its own, Nick reached out and squeezed the woman's boobs mercilessly.
He pinched the outline of her cowlike nipples, more like udders than tits. Her skin was loose and liver-spotted, nothing to get him worked up about. But he wanted to torment her, wanted to know who had sent her and what Violet planned to do about Trudy.
"You're not going to enjoy this," he promised her. "You're a fucking cow and cows have to be treated rough, like this." And saying this he slapped her once again, her head rolling back like a rag doll's as she closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in short gut-wrenching spasms. "In fact, I'm gonna teach you something about people, lady." He reached behind her to unhook her bra.
She didn't say anything, opening her eyes to glare at him, her lips curling back as if she was an animal, caged but not so easily tamed or subdued. Nick peeled her bra off and her round heavy boobs fell forward, spilling over her sides. Nick sucked in his breath, staring down at them.
He began to pull at the nipples, pinching them angrily, watching the woman's anguish as he kept ripping at her boobs with his fingernails. Her moans rose up, louder than before, but all her strenuous tossing and turning got her nowhere. Nick was in command and he breathed harshly, his hot air fanning her jugs as he kept pinching her nipples, dark brown and hanging down a good two inches on each flabby teat.
"You won't get away with this," she told him.
"You won't either, lady. Not when I get done with you. But you have a choice. Tell me who sent you and what they wanted and I'll let you go. I won't even bother the cops with small fry like you. Just open your mouth and tell me and I'll call it quits."
"Fuck you!" she spat out at him.
"Whatever you say," and he laughed sadistically. He felt himself breaking out in a sweat, filled with more anger and venom than he had ever thought himself capable of. His skin felt hot and itchy and the itch spread, burning with a fury as he slowly pulled the rest of her uniform down off of her hips, letting it fall to the floor.
She sank back, almost as if she was giving up, accepting the inevitable. Nick didn't buy that, though. He knew she was planning something else and he slipped down so that he was lying on top of her, the tip of his cock brushing languidly against her belly as he opened his mouth.
He bent forward and grabbed hold of one nipple between his teeth, clamping down on it. She kept crying out, looking down at his cock for the first time.
"A deal," she whispered. "I'll make a deal."
"What kind of deal?" he asked, throwing her legs up so that he was able to push the head of his cock right between the low-slung and heavy cheeks of her ass. He pressed it against her asshole and she kept clawing at him, trying to break away.
"Let me go and I'll tell you ..."
"What?"
"Let me go first," she insisted, trying to pull away.
"Not a chance," Prescott told her. He pushed forward, realizing that she had been stalling for time. The woman screamed out as she felt the round blood-engorged head of his cock slamming down into her ass, ripping open the folds of her anus as he kept pumping forward. "Last chance," Nick said, shoving with all of his weight.
"Yes! Yes! Just stop!" she pleaded.
His cock was buried halfway into her butt and he licked his lips, savoring the warmth and surprising tightness of the woman's asshole. The walls of her bottom gripped his meaty shaft and he was sorry that he might have to stop. "Go on. No more bullshitting," he snorted.
"The girl's aunt sent me. Violet. Violet Heath. That's all I know," the woman told him.
"And where is Violet now?" he asked, shoving forward so that she moaned again with the pain of his unlubricated cock attacking her tender hole.
"The penthouse suite at the Hotel Le-Grande," the woman muttered feebly; "that's all I know."
Nick smiled and eased his dick slowly out. It plopped out into the open and the woman fell back, closing her eyes. Prescott got to his feet and threw the uniform at her. "Get dressed, lady. And you can tell Violet that her niece has left the country to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday."
Trudy called a little after five o'clock that evening. "Where the fuck are you?" Nick asked, picking up the phone on the first ring. "I've been holing up in here all day, waiting for you."
"I can't talk now," she whispered. "I thought I would leave the country and have you meet me, but when I got out to the airport, I found out she had people waiting there. I feel so cornered, Nick."
"Where are you now? Let me meet you. I'll think of something," he said.
"This girl I know from college is an artist. I'm at her place. She's giving a party." She gave him the address and less than an hour later Prescott found himself walking up three flights of stairs which led to a loft.
"You must be Nick Prescott, boy wonder. Trudy's told me all about you," a young woman said to him, extending her hand. "I'm Stacy Roberts. So glad you could come."
"So am I," he said. "Where's Trudy?" He felt nervous and uncomfortable. He was sure that the cab he had taken downtown had been followed and even though he had told the driver to let him off several blocks from Stacy's loft, he still suspected that whoever was tailing him had located the artist's studio.
Now, as he stood by the door, he scanned the crowd, looking for Trudy. She saw him from the far end of the room and elbowed her way through the guests, throwing her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.
"I thought you'd never get here," she whispered, leading him off into an L-shaped alcove where they could talk.
"Why did you leave like that, without telling me anything?" he asked her, holding her face in his hands. He felt the same pull, the same kind of electricity between them. This time, he vowed that he wouldn't let her out of his sight.
"I was so confused, Nick. I couldn't sleep and then when you didn't come back right away I got scared. I didn't know what had happened to you. And at the airport it was all like a nightmare. She really means business, Nick. She saw people watching, everywhere!"
He wondered if she was exaggerating. Her face was flushed and he smelled liquor on her breath. In fact, the more he looked at her, the more convinced he became that she was drunk. Prescott decided to say nothing about the woman with the knife, that and the fact that he had been followed.
"I'll figure out something," he said again.
"Don't be party poopers, now!" Stacy Roberts said, coming up to them and hooking her arm through Trudy's. She was a tall lanky woman with close-cropped short hair, a definite mannish way about her that made Nick uncomfortable.
"Go meet the guests," she went on to say, laughing loudly.
Her laugh had a strangely hollow and metallic ring to it, like a flawed bell, somehow cracked. Nick wondered if everything was becoming distorted due to his own fears, or if things weren't the way they should have been. But he maintained his calm, looking cool and confident as he kept smiling at his hostess.
"Trudy tells me you're a detective," she said. "I love mysteries."
"I don't," he grunted, turning away from her. He moved off into the larger room, sitting down on a couch and watching, almost studying, the other guests. Most of them were somewhere between twenty and thirty and as he sat back, he smelled marijuana and amyl nitrate poppers, even as the guests kept drinking. Handed a glass of something bubbly, he drank it down as the music began to swell, pounding in his temples.
He felt oddly groggy, almost drugged and he didn't see Trudy. He drank some more, feeling far less inhibited than when he had first walked in. And when he found the bathroom, needing to piss off some of the stuff he had guzzled down, Prescott found himself. He stared intently, his interest mounting.
She sure knows a helluva lot of swingers, he thought to himself. For there in the bathtub a guy and a chick with long stringy black hair were going at it like mad. Prescott wanted to laugh. Their clothes were around their ankles and they kept banging elbows and knees against the sides of the tub.
But the young man kept shoving it into her, his backside jiggling back and forth as Nick saw his balls smacking against the girl's thighs. They both turned to stare at him, not at all nonplussed.
"Don't mind me," he grinned, staggering towards the toilet and pulling down his zipper. He heaved out his cock, surprised that it was already half-erect. He had trouble peeing and he finally gave up and leaned over the tub. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the of the girl's tits, squeezing it between his fingers.
"Anytime," the girl giggled. She lifted her hand and began to caress Prescott's cock. It hung out of his pants, growing harder with each passing second. The guy was still into her, his face hidden as he kept groaning, ramming his cock in and out of her snatch.
Prescott laughed once again and stuffed his meat back in his pants. He closed the bathroom door behind him, but when he looked around, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Clothes were strewn about the loft and nearly everyone of the thirty or forty guests were rolling about on the floor.
They were all stark naked and Nick couldn't believe his eyes. He had seen some pretty fancy goings on at the hotel, but nothing to even compare with what he immediately decided was a fucking mind blowing orgy. And when he kept looking, he caught a glimpse of Trudy Heath, laughing drunkenly, right in the midst of the crowd.
He saw cocks in various states of erection, cunts of all colors and sizes and shapes. Not thinking twice, Nick pulled off his clothes, feeling wonderfully aroused. For the moment, he shelved his fears and apprehensions. Throwing his things down on the floor, he literally dived into the squirming seething mass of naked humanity.
The orgy was going full swing and he found it exciting just to move through the tangle of arms and legs. People reached up and groped him, touched every part of his body. One finger started after his cock, while another probed the hairy crevice between the cheeks of his ass. He felt his nuts hardening as someone tried to thrust a finger up his anus. Nick shoved backwards and the finger, already moistened, slipped right inside, tickling his prostate gland.
He turned his head around to see a woman smiling at him. But before he could say or do anything else, he bent down, losing his balance. Sprawled across the floor, feeling drunker and giddier than before, he wrenched open a pair of long shapely thighs. His head bent down and within an instant he found himself sponging a thickly haired twat, licking away like a kitten over a saucer of milk.
The cunt had what he decided was the most amazing set of ragged-edged lips, dark scarlet in color, projecting outwards like lapels. He couldn't see the girl's face in the crush of bodies, but he knew it really didn't matter. There were no identities here, only bodies, willing sensual vessels of depravity.
Accordingly, he didn't think twice about what he was doing or what people were doing to him. He just started licking, sucking away and lapping along the woman's cunt furrow until he felt her clit growing longer and harder, distended and filled with blood. She squirmed towards his eager hungry mouth, wrapping her legs over his shoulders.
Nick kept nibbling as he suddenly felt someone pulling his legs apart. Within a second a mouth was attacking his ass. He felt himself getting rimmed and he kept pushing backwards, stuffing someone's face with his hard and easily excitable backside.
And then another mouth worked its way into position, even as his ass was tongued and eaten out. The lips fastened themselves around his stiff rigid pecker, sucking him off with loud hungry gulps. Nick kept working on the woman's pussy, unable to move.
The set of lips which surrounded his dick began slobbering with even more excitement, sucking away and creating a tight suction, a kind of vacuum which seemed to draw his cock farther and farther down inside the mouth. Someone was on his tits as well, nibbling on them sensually, licking circles around each one until they rose up, hard and pointy from the tangle of his chest hair.
Nick Prescott couldn't believe what was happening.
No one was talking, their lips and tongues doing all the communication necessary. Having never been involved in such a frenzied group sex scene, he was at a loss for words. Every part of his body, every erogenous zone, was being constantly bombarded by stimulus. The whole effect was like a dream.
His mouth moved down past the two cunt lips which had first attracted his attention. He licked lower, trying to reach the woman's damp musky asshole. He was able to see a large pink bottom-hole, puckered like the swirling petals on a flower.
As soon as he touched it with the tip of his tongue, the woman began to jerk her legs convulsively around his waist, urging him on. Nick pulled his cock away from the lips which kept sucking on it, trying to get into position. The woman's face was hidden, working on another's guy's pecker as he angled his tool into place.
Working quickly, hoping she wasn't about to change her mind, Nick pushed the bulbous head of his stiff unruly prick right up to the woman's pink puckered hole. He shoved forward, centering his weight at his hips.
The woman gave a little shriek of pain and surprise, but he kept going, not about to stop now that the head of his thick penis was already in place, buried inside the woman's damp tight hole. He kept pumping, guiding more and more of his meat into place. He didn't stop until he was all the way inside, the woman holding him around the waist, working her sphincter muscles as if to milk him before he had even started.
He held her tightly so that she couldn't get out of his grip. Then, he really let go and began pounding into her, faster and faster. But even as he kept grinding his cock down the long hot funnel of her ass, Nick felt someone's finger prodding his own backside. Another pair of lips moved into place, licking up and down his anal furrow.
A finger was also pushing into his bottom-hole and he turned his head quickly around, hearing the frenzied groans of pleasure and excitement which rose up around him. But he was surprised to find the dykish-looking Stacy Roberts staring him in the eye.
"I couldn't resist," she laughed, bending down again and cork-screwing her middle finger right up his ass.
"Go right ahead," he encouraged her, turning back to the task at hand. He kept thrusting forward, bucking and snorting as he got hotter and hotter, unable to control himself. His skin felt as if it was being ripped out, stretched red and bleeding inside the woman's ass. And as he continued to pound into her, Nick could feel her getting ready to come. She moaned much louder now, squeezing her anal muscles tightly around his shaft.
"Do it, baby," he heard her say. "Fill me, go-dammit do it! Shoot! Come! I can't hold back oh shit, yes. Yes!"
Her screams filled his ears and as Stacy kept fingering his ass, Nick finally let go. He gave a forceful shove forward, felt himself scraping down into her bottom and suddenly let loose. His come seemed to roar out of his cock, great slobbering bursts of gism which poured into her heaving butt as he shook on top of her, unable to control his excitement.
"Feel it, lady. Oh yes, now, what a fuck, what a great fucking ass!" he yelled, drooling, his saliva dripping onto her back as he kept shooting, one thick ejaculation following another.
Stacy never stopped playing with his bottom-hole and when Prescott had drained himself dry, giving his all, he pulled his half limp cock out of the woman's asshole and fell back on the floor, too exhausted to move.
Slowly, Stacy removed her finger, looking down at him. "You're really something else, kiddo. No wonder Trudy can't stop talking about you. You're one helluva stud, Prescott."
Somehow, the words didn't ring right in his head. Prescott didn't smile. He lay on the floor, smelling come and reek and the overwhelming smell of physical contact and excitement. He closed his eyes, wondering why he was suddenly so afraid.