Conclusion

Cunicheck slapped his hand against his side and glanced nervously at Inspector Hamilton. They were standing in front of the Felton home, waiting for an answer to their knock. After a brief period, the maid opened the door.

"Yes?" she inquired.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," Hamilton said. "Police Department." He flashed his badge at the suddenly startled woman. "Are the Felton's home?"

"Er, Yes. Yes. Just a moment." The maid hurried off into the interior of the house.

Cunicheck stared at Hamilton. "Boy, some layout," he said, admiringly. "This Felton must be quite a guy."

"How do you think he'll take it? I mean, our busting in on him like this?"

"Rough. You can expect him to scream for the D.A. He's one of those S.O.B.'s whose kid can't do any wrong. You know the type."

"Yeah," Cunicheck said, tiredly. "Yeah."

Mrs. Felton approached the door graciously, extending her hand. "The Maid," she stressed the word Maid, "said you were from the Police Department?"

"That's right, Ma'am," Hamilton said. "We'd like to talk with you and your husband, if we could."

"Certainly," Mrs. Felton said, coolly, hiding her nervousness. What could these men want? Was anything wrong with Lenny? "Won't you come this way," she pointed toward the large living room. " I do hope this is about the creatures who ruined our front yard."

"Sort of, Ma'am." The relief that started to surge through her breast at this statement was stopped short by the quick realization that he had said only "sort of", not a definite yes. What else could there be?

Mr. Felton rose as the officers entered his plush living room. He stared hard at the men.

"You catch the punks that wrecked the yard," he demanded at once.

"We know who they were, Mr. Felton," Hamilton replied undaunted.

"Well?" The word was impatience, command, and question rolled into one.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that our investigation has revealed the fact that the yard was wrecked during a wild party your son was giving. We've interviewed the neighbors...."

"Nosey sons of bitches!" Felton exploded...." and we've interviewed several of the kids at the High School. It seems your son...."

"Goddamn punks," Felton interrupted...." It seems your son has been for a long time, involved with a kid by the name of Victor Zigler. In case you aren't aware of it, Victor is a known Junkie."

Felton looked stunned. He sank into a chair, waiting for the officer to continue.

"Zigler is known to have brought several packages of cigarettes, cigarettes whose basic ingredient is Marijuana, to the party your son was giving. Each of the kids at the party smoked one or more of the cigarettes."

"Oh my dear God," Mrs. Felton said, her hand across her mouth. ','Oh God."

"We have further evidence that your son was involved in a slight fracas at the University, again with Victor Zigler. Further, your son was involved in a burglary at a junk yard in which auto parts were stolen."

"You can't prove it," Mr. Felton said desperately. "You can't prove any of this. It's just gossip. Just lousy, fucking gossip. A bunch of nosey neighbors who'd love to see my kid strung up by the balls. That's what it is. And a bunch of goddamn punks who can't bear to see my kid with his own car while they still have to bike or hitchhike. You don't have a shred of proof, you bastards. I'll have your asses hauled in so fast you won't know what happened. I'll...."

"We have a witness. A witness and a participant."

"Who!?" demanded Felton. "Name me one reliable witness. One."

"Guido Bartoni," Hamilton said.

"Weedo?" Felton looked startled."

"The Wop kid?"

"Yes sir."

"He's a lying Bastard! I'll kill the son of a bitch! He's just trying to throw this off on my boy. You fucking bastards get out of here! NOW!"

Hamilton stared at Mr. Felton, disgust rising in his belly at this hunk of nothing that refused to believe his son could be anything but pure.

"Mr. Felton, we have come here to let you know that a warrant has been issued for the arrest of your son. We have just got word that he was spotted on the Freeway, and by now he should be on his way to the station. I'd suggest you call your lawyer. If you want to help the boy."

"YOU SONS OF BITCHES GET THE HELL OUT! YOU GODDAMN BETCHA I'LL CALL MY LAWYER." The officers left.

"Guido," Denise said in the darkness of the parked car.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Guido, did we do right?"

"Right?"

"Finking out on Lenny and Vic. Telling the cops."

"It was the only way, honey. We had to be square with the law. There just wasn't any other way to do it. I didn't ask them to let me off. You know that. I'm willing to take whatever I've got coming. But I couldn't go through life knowing what had happened, wondering if I was going to get rapped any minute, wondering if there was someone on my tail."

"I know," she snuggled closer to him. "Oh, I guess you're right."

"Sure I'm right, honey. You'll understand later."

"Guido?"

"Yeah, Denny?"

"Hold me. Just hold me for a little while, and then let's make love again."

He pulled her soft form to him, glad to feel the warmth of this girl, this marvelous girl. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to tell her parents, and then they could be married. Married, and square with the world. It was a wonderful feeling.

He felt the passion surging through his veins, felt the softness of the girl beside him in the car.

He bent toward her waiting lips and kissed her. Her arms encircled his neck and she held him in a tight embrace.

"Fuck me, Guido. Please. It's O.K."

He laid her gently down on the car seat, gently undressing the quiet, waiting form. His hands ran slowly along the length of her legs as he pulled her panties down. He pushed her skirt up along her hips. She herself undid her blouse, and her bra, letting her tight young breasts fall free.

Guido stared at her warm young body, the lust building in his loins.

She spread her legs apart, as Guido pulled his pants, shirt, and underwear off. He knelt down on the floorboard of the car, his tongue darting out toward her cunt. He licked slowly at first, letting the heat build, waiting for her juices to start flowing again. She shivered as his tongue found its target, as his young fingers, inexperienced and yet so wise, trailed along her smooth, firm stomach to her breasts and began to pinch her nipples, began to massage the taut, full breasts.

"Oh, Guido, now!" she whispered to him. "Do it now!"

Guido climbed on top of her, his hard shaft pressing against her waiting vagina, and then he thrust his rod into her, easily and yet quickly. Another shiver ran through her body as his manhood entered. She shifted her weight and began slowly moving her hips in a long, sensuous rhythm, as his butt rose and fell on top of her. For this time they were alone in the world. For this moment there were no problems, no hang-ups, no parents. They were young, and the world lay before them.