Dirt

Chapter 3

Richard Hickock left his office at four o’clock, stopping briefly at his secretary’s desk. “Anybody calls, tell them I’m in the building somewhere for a meeting, you don’t know where, and I won’t be back at my desk by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman replied.

Hickock took his private elevator to the basement garage, where his white Mercedes S600 was waiting. “Ralph, I think I’ll take a walk in the park,” he said to his chauffeur.

“Of course, Mr. Hickock,” the chauffeur replied. “You’ve been walking in the park a lot lately. Good for the heart.”

“Right,” Hickock said, taking one of his magazines, not his favorite, from the leather pocket on the back of the front seat. He leafed idly through it, making mental notes, one of them to fire the magazine’s art director. He wasn’t seeing enough tits in the book these days, and the man had ignored his request for more.

Presently, the car stopped at an entrance to Central Park on Fifth Avenue in the sixties. Hickock opened his own door. “Hover around here, and pick me up in an hour and ten minutes.” He knew from experience exactly how long this would take. The car pulled away; Hickock crossed Fifth Avenue and walked briskly to an elegantly restored townhouse apartment building, using his key to open the downstairs door. As it was about to close, a young man stepped into the hallway behind him, holding what appeared to be a sack of groceries.

“Thanks,” the young man said. “I didn’t have a hand free to look for my key.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hickock said, stepping into the elevator. The young man followed him into the car.

“Nice day out there,” the young man said.

“Great time of the year.” The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and Hickock got out. “See you,” he said.

“You bet,” the young man replied.

The young man got off the elevator on the floor above and walked down a flight, peeking over the banister rail to see Hickock letting himself into an apartment. He noted that there was only one apartment on the floor, so he was unlikely to be disturbed. He walked to the apartment door, set his grocery bag on the floor, removed a loaf of bread, and pulled out an electronic stethoscope. He placed the receivers in his ears, switched it on, and held the listening part against the apartment door.

Inside, Hickock was greeted by a very beautiful young woman wearing a silk dressing gown.

“Oh, Dick,” she breathed, taking his face in her hands. “I’ve been so excited ever since you called.”

Hickock kissed her lightly, then untied the gown’s sash, exposing her naked body underneath. He caressed her large breasts and felt the nipples rise. “Then you must be ready for me,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed, taking him by the hand. “Come with me.” She led him into the bedroom, kicked the door shut, and locked it.

“I don’t know why you always lock the door,” Hickock said, tearing at his clothes.

“I don’t know either,” she said, letting the dressing gown fall from her shoulders. “It just makes me feel more secure.” She held out her arms to receive him, and they toppled onto the bed.

Outside in the hall, the young man with the stethoscope heard the bedroom door lock engage. He moved along the hall toward the bedroom wall and placed the stethoscope there. When he was certain that the couple were erotically engaged, he went back to the door, removed what appeared to be a small manicure kit from a pocket, took out two small tools, and began to work on the front door lock. In half a minute he was inside the apartment with his grocery bag. He removed a leather tool box from the bag and went to work.

In the bedroom, Hickock lay on his back, breathing deeply as he recovered from his orgasm. She went into the bathroom, came back with a hot facecloth, and began to wipe his penis. Hickock made a little noise.

“Oh,” she said, “I believe there’s something still there.”

This was the part Hickock liked best; while he had been essentially impotent with his wife for years, this girl could always get him going for a second round. “Use your mouth,” he whimpered.

“Why, of course,” the girl replied.

The young man listened at the bedroom door with his stethoscope, smiling. He’d better get out, he thought; Hickock would be finished in another few seconds. He picked up his grocery bag, let himself out of the apartment, and walked down the stairs to the basement, checking carefully on each floor that he was still alone. In the basement he found the building’s central telephone box and went to work. Half an hour later he let himself out of the building and walked off down the street.

Hickock looked both ways on Fifth Avenue for his car. Not seeing it, he crossed the street, walked a few feet into the park, and waited. A couple of minutes later he saw the white Mercedes turn a corner onto Fifth Avenue. He stepped out of the park, went to the curb, flagged down the car, and got in. “Let’s go home, Ralph,” he said.

“Enjoy your walk in the park, sir?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “It always refreshes me.”