the nude who never

“You’ve got a point there, Madge,” Poppa decided. “But not the one you think.”

“Enough talk.” Mama pronounced judgment. “Richie, call the manager. Have this woman removed from here.”

“To where?” Poppa and Cliff spoke with one voice.

“Clifford!” Richie said warningly.

“George!” Mama said warningly.

“Judas!” Llona said wearily.

“I don’t think we should call the manager,” Cliff said reasonably. “Think of the scandal. It could hurt my career. And Richie’s career, too.”

“Are you kidding?” Richie protested. “In our business?”

“Now wait a minute,” Poppa said. “The boy may have a point there. Maybe it would be best if I just quietly escorted the young lady back to her room.”

“Over my dead body,” Mama told him emphatically.

“I’ll take her,” Cliff offered. “I don’t mind.”

“Clifford!”

“Look,” Llona interrupted, “while you’re making up your minds, do you mind if I use your johnny? My front teeth are beginning to float.”

“Be our guest,” Cliff told her politely.

Llona went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, listening through the door.

“My poor boy,” Mama was saying. “To get into such a mess through no fault of your own. Just because some shameless hussy takes a fancy to you.”

“How can a woman delude herself like that?” Poppa wondered aloud.

“We’ve got to get rid of her!” Richie said, casting a sidelong glance at Cliff.

“Why don’t you let me take care of it?” Cliff asked. “I really don’t mind.”

Llona had heard enough. She had no room to go back to, so even if they worked that out she’d still be up the creek. And the only alternative they seemed to be considering was ringing in the management on the problem. That could be disastrous. So Llona looked for her own way out.

She crossed to the other door leading from the bathroom. It was unlocked. She opened it and slipped into the next room. The window blind was up, and the light from outside clearly illuminated her naked figure as it tiptoed toward the door leading to the hallway.

A moment after she’d stepped through that door, the light beside the bed was turned on. A shaking hand reached out for the telephone and dialed a number.

“Hello, Dr. Hertzheimer? I’ve got to see you as soon, as possible. It’s imperative. I’ve started to hallucinate again!”

Chapter Eight

ONE NIGHT a week Nick Dawes had a poker game in his room at the Marlowe Hotel. It was strictly stud, table stakes, and the players varied. Tonight there were four, three others besides Nick himself. They were Manny Warden, Irv Jones and Elmer Pframmis.

Elmer Pframmis was one of those unfortunately endowed little men spawned by the Fates in a moment of malicious humor. Physically, he was fat in the hips, thin in the chest and spindly in the legs. His rear end was fleshy and floppy, his tummy the same, and he had a neck like an ostrich.

On top of the neck was something that might have passed for the bottom of the ostrich. Not that Elmer was a Cyclops. He had two eyes, the same as everybody else. Only they were so close together that from a distance they really did seem to have merged into one. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if the one had been directly above his nose, but it wasn’t. The nose was somewhere to the left, lost and drooping with despair, hiding its nostrilly head in the upper part of Elmer’s thick lips. It might be said that his chin was his best feature for the simple reason that he didn’t have any. None at all. His face simply came to an abrupt end at the base of his dentures.

It figures that with such an appearance for openers, Elmer would have lost his hair early in life. Now he was completely bald. Baldness may give some men character, but not Elmer. It merely made him look even more like a gnome rejected halfway down the assembly line.

Naturally, his unfortunate appearance had its effect on Elmer’s personality. When a man looks like Elmer, it’s only to be expected that crankiness will become an integral part of his nature. And with so much to whine about, Elmer certainly couldn’t be blamed for turning into an expert and constant whiner. Add that he lacked patience and was quite high-strung, and it’s easy to see why Elmer repelled people.

And so his life was marked with loneliness. The more people shunned him, the more Elmer yearned to be a part of the crowd. This made him fawn on people. But a cranky, whining, impatient, nervous fawner is not calculated to inspire people to want to help him overcome his loneliness. Thus Elmer’s social life was nil and his spare time was spent for the most part as a loner.

The important exception to him was the poker game to which he was occasionally invited in Nick Dawes’ room. The game. provided him with a fleeting sense of being one of the boys. The clack of chips and the snarls of bets and raises were to him one of his few tenuous contacts with the rest of the human race.

It wasn’t that Dawes and the other players liked Elmer Pframmis any better than most people did. It was just that they had more tolerance for him. And their tolerance stemmed from certain qualities that Elmer had.

For one thing, with little else to spend his money on, Elmer always came to the poker table well-heeled. The poker player’s philosophy being that anybody’s money is good, they would never have thought of turning up their noses at Elmer’s wad of green cabbage. For another thing, Elmer was a lousy poker player. He was a steady loser who could be depended upon to drop a sizeable bundle. It was this about him which aroused in the other players an emotion toward Elmer which was the closest he’d ever come to fondness. And the money he lost was a small price to pay for even so slight an approach to a relationship.

Elmer had been losing steadily all night when he was dealt the four consecutively numbered cards. The fifth didn’t match, of course; with Elmer’s luck, that figured. Elmer didn’t hesitate for a moment to draw to the outside straight. He did, however, hesitate to turn the card over once he’d been dealt it. He’d lived too long with his misshapen body and scrambled-egg face not to know that guys who looked like he did never filled a straight. Still, hope springs eternal in even so sub-human a breast as Elmer’s.

He flicked at the new card with his thumbnail, revealing it painstakingly, thousandth of an inch by thousandth of an inch. Finally his squinting eyes slanted down his nose -- which was touching the cards he held—and made out the number in the corner of the new pasteboard. It was a seven. He’d filled out the straight.

Elmer snuffled. He was moved. Emotionally moved. Such gifts from the gods were rare in his wretched life. He was genuinely touched that they should have remembered him at all.

“I’ll bet fifty.” The depth of his feelings made Elmer’s voice quaver.

Nick Dawes face didn’t reveal that he’d noticed the quaver, but he had. It wasn’t important. Nick didn’t need that to tell him that Elmer had a good hand. He’d known it before Elmer spoke. He’d known it because he’d dealt it to Elmer. He’d dealt it deliberately—-from a stacked deck. The last card, filling out the straight, Nick had dealt Elmer right off the bottom.

“See you and raise you fifty,” Nick said in a flat, monotonous voice.

Nick had also dealt himself a hand. He’d dealt himself the four-seven-nine of hearts, a club and a spade on the opening deal. He’d thrown away the club and the spade and drawn two other cards. He hadn’t even bothered to look at them—a point which Elmer had jubilantly noted. But then he hadn’t had to because Nick knew what they were—the deuce and jack of hearts.

Elmer thought about the raise a minute. He figured Nick for three of a kind. Maybe a pair and a kicker, but more likely three of a kind. Either way, Elmer thought to himself, Nick had to be figuring him for two pair. Well, he was going to be in for a long overdue surprise. He saw Nick’s raise. “And right back at you,” he said, tossing still another fifty into the pot.

Nick’s face remained impassive as he saw the raise and kicked back again. But behind his poker player’s mask, Nick was grinning from ear to ear. Elmer was such a milkable little patsy. Sometimes Nick even thought that Elmer was grateful to him in some strange way for cheating him out of his money. It was a real temptation for Nick to take even greater advantage of Elmer than he did. But Nick resisted the temptation. He didn’t want to scare the fish off. He wanted to keep him coming back. And so he only invited Elmer to one out of every three or four games—-and he only set him up for one or two hands each session.

Nick was neither a professional gambler nor a professional cheat. Card-sharping was strictly an occasional line with him. He wouldn’t have dared try it on most of the other men with whom he played poker. He wouldn’t have dared try it on Manny Warden or Irv Jones, the other two men at the table now.

Manny and Irv were a contrast. Manny was thirtyish and looked forty, while Irv was over eighty years old and looked younger. Manny’s nervousness and look of perpetual harassment was just the opposite of Irv’s calm and almost sleepy attitude. Manny’s face was an open book responding to each card he was dealt, while Irv never varied the twinkle in his eye. Manny couldn’t bluff and didn’t try, while Irv would bluff out one, sometimes two hands a night, picking his time very carefully, and usually getting away with it.

The difference between them had a great deal to do with why they played poker in the first place. Manny played because he was married, much married, too much married. His wife was a nag and a clinging vine, an unbeatable combination when it comes to motivating a man to get out of the house. She resented his poker playing and expressed her resentment loudly and often. This only strengthened Manny’s motivation to play.

Still, it wasn’t easy for him to invent excuses for being away from the house for an evening. Only very occasionally could he get away with saying he had to work late as he had tonight. And even then his spouse was suspicious. Indeed, few adulterers went through such torments of conscience in arranging their affairs as Manny did.

One of the reasons that he felt so guilty was that his wife had tried to fit herself in with his penchant for poker. In the early days of their marriage, when she had become aware that the pasteboards constituted a rival, she had made an earnest effort to merge her appeal with theirs. “Lots of women play poker,” she’d chirped to Manny. “So why shouldn’t I? The next time you play, I’ll take a hand, too.”

“The boys wouldn’t like it,” Manny had told her truthully.

“For goodness sake, why not?”

“It’s just the way real poker players feel,” he’d tried to explain. “They don’t like dames at the table. It’s distracting. Women chatter when they play cards. And they make mistakes and then laugh about them. And they take too long to bet. Poker just isn’t a woman’s game. It’s better stag.”

“Well, it’s not going to be stag,” his wife told him firmly. “That’s absolutely the most medieval attitude I ever heard. For men only! In this day and age. That’s ridiculous!”

“Maybe. But that’s the way it is. That’s the way the fellows feel about it.”

“Then the hell with the fellow!” She was really angry, and Manny, as was his way, cowered before her anger. “If I can’t play with them, then neither can you. I know what!” She clapped her hands as sudden inspiration washed away her anger. “We’ll have a poker game for married couples. I’ll call some people and . . .”

Manny had heard her out with a deep sense of foreboding. Like a bit of helpless flotsam Manny found himself carried along by the mounting wave of her inspiration. Finally, one night about a week later, the wave broke and Manny was dropped into a poker game with his wife and two other married couples.

The tumultuous surf of that session is perhaps better avoided. Some idea of its storminess can be formulated from a look at the scene between Manny and his wife after everybody else went home. The scene opened with Manny softly closing the front door behind the departing guests and was immediately followed with his wife loudly slamming their bedroom door in his face.

“What’s the matter?” Manny had opened the door and followed her into the bedroom.

“What’s the matter!” She slammed a bureau drawer. “You know damn well what’s the matter! You insulted me! You insulted my friends! You behaved like a perfect ass! That’s what’s the matter!”

“Me?” Manny feigned innocence. “What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! Ooohhh! Where would you like me to start? We hadn't been playing five minutes when you called me an idiot in front of everybody.”

“Well, you were an idiot. Who else but an idiot would stay in against a one-card draw and a two-card draw with a nine-high hand?”

“I was bluffing. You said that was allowed. So I tried a bluff, that’s all.”

“Well,” Manny said placatingly, “it was ill-advised; that’s all I meant.”

“Then that’s all you should have said! And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you had to go and call Irma a damned fool. And you’re not even married to Irma!”

“What else would you call a woman who drops out of a hand when she’s holding three sevens and a pair of treys?”

“Irma’s simply cautious. That’s all! She’s very careful about money. I’ll bet if you were married to her you’d appreciate it all right.”

“Maybe so. Maybe I’d appreciate it like crazy. But I know one thing I wouldn’t do if I was married to her. I wouldn’t let her within a hundred miles of a deck of cards. But then if it was up to me, I wouldn’t let her husband within a hundred miles of a poker game, either.”

“Oh? And what did he do wrong? Come on, you’re the expert. Tell me.”

“All night long he was picking his teeth with the cards. That’s what! He ruined the deck.”

“Big deal. A seventy-nine cent deck of cards and you’re making a vendetta out of it.”

“It’s the principle of the thing. Do you know that some pro gamblers mark cards that way? He’d never get away with it in a decent poker game.”

“Manny, you are flipping! Are you implying that our friends would cheat at a penny poker game?”

“Them cheat? Never! They’re too damn dumb to cheat. Four born losers if I ever saw one. And that’s another thing. The way what’s-his-name carried on, you’d have thought he dropped the second mortgage on his house, instead of a dollar sixty-nine. Now there’s a real sport for you!”

“That’s not fair. Nobody likes to lose. He’s just the kind of fellow who plays to win, that’s all. It wasn’t the money involved.”

“If he’s the kind of fellow who plays to win, then he ought to play some other game. Any man who draws two cards to fill an inside straight and then complains because he doesn’t fill it ought to stick to tiddlywinks.”

“Well, I’m sure he doesn’t have a very high opinion of you, either. Not after the way you spoke to his wife!”

“She had it coming! Where does she come off looking at everybody else’s discards before she calls for cards? In a real poker game they’d lynch her.”

“For God’s sake, Manny, I thought we were supposed to be playing for fun.”

“Oh yeah? Well, it sure wasn’t any fun!”

That had summed it up. It wasn’t any fun and the evening was never repeated. Manny preferred no poker at all to poker under such circumstances with such poor players. So, for a long time, he just hadn’t played. But, lately, he’d taken to sneaking off to a game occasionally and to lying to his wife about where he was going.

Not that she bought the lies. Far from it. Indeed, the last time Manny had used the excuse of having worked late, his wife had let him know in no uncertain terms that she knew he was a liar.

“I called the office and there was no answer,” she told him.

"‘That’s because they shut the switchboard off at five-thirty,” he’d improvised.

“Oh, what do you take me for, Manny? Stop trying to feed me that hogwash, and tell me where you really were until three-thirty in the morning.”

“All right!” Guilt had made Manny lose his temper. “I was with this luscious blonde, see. A face like an angel and built like Jayne Mansfield. Rich, too. A snazzy duplex on Park Avenue. And passionate. I tell you, I thought she’d drive me out of my skull. She’s nuts about me, you see. Cooked me a steak, drowned me in champagne, then got rid of the servants, turned the lights down low, put some real raunchy music on the stereo, cuddled up next to me on the couch, and before I knew it she was tearing my clothes off. She was wearing this flimsy sort of black negligee—-the kind you can almost but not quite see through-—and after she had me undressed, she stood up and did this sexy dance for me. She got me so excited I practically dived into bed with her. I ripped off the negligee and then-—-”

“Don’t lie to me, you louse!” his wife had shouted. “I know you were out playing poker with the boys!”

Now, sitting in at the poker game in Nick Dawes’ room at the Marlowe Hotel, Manny knew he’d probably have to face an even worse scene when he got home. But he put it out of his mind. There was no sense spoiling the game for himself by paying in advance trepidation. He’d pay enough when he got there. So, for now, Manny concentrated on his cards.

He was holding three aces and wondering. He had Elmer figured for two pair because of his one-card draw. The fact that Elmer had stayed in and bucked back after Nick's raise didn't worry Manny. Elmer stayed in a lot of hands because he couldn’t stand being left out; it made him feel rejected or something. Manny recognized the fact that Elmer consistently overplayed his cards.

Nick was another story. Manny had to figure him for three of a kind, in which case his three big ones would hold. But Manny also suspected that Nick sometimes cheated. He’d suspected this for some time, but it didn’t keep him from playing poker with Nick. A good poker game was hard to find. And, like the gambler who was asked why he played in a particular crap game when he knew the dice were crooked, Manny would have replied, “Yeah, but it’s the only game in town.” So Manny took his chances with Nick, and he’d have to take his chances now and figure him for a triple that couldn’t stand up to his three aces.

Irv was another story. Manny couldn’t figure him. Few people ever could figure Irv. He’d taken a standard three-card draw and seen all the raises without adding to them. Manny would just have to take his chances with Irv. He saw Nick’s latest raise and watched to see what the old man would do.

Irv Jones calmly saw the raise. He was enjoying himself, quietly, inside his mind. Human weakness and human duplicity had long ago ceased to disturb Irv. After so many years of living, he now found both a source of great amusement. This amusement was one of the prime satisfactions he found in playing poker.

The years had taught Irv judgment and a sure sense of quiet caution. He was almost always a minor winner in any poker game in which he played. He never won a great deal, but it was a very rare session from which he emerged a loser. His poker playing was classical, and his mind calculated the percentages of chance with a speed and accuracy which belied that even the slightest senility might be overtaking him. Also his shrewd blue eyes missed nothing that went on around him.

They hadn’t missed the crooked deal pulled off by Nick. It hadn’t shocked or surprised him. And he’d accurately clicked off the fact that the con was aimed at Elmer, rather than at either himself or Manny. But Irv didn’t feel sorry for Elmer. He understood that an occasional fleecing was the price Elmer paid for the companionship of the poker game. As Irv saw it, what Elmer got out of it was more important to Elmer than the money he was sucked into losing.

However, while Irv’s philosophy insured his minding his own business in the face of the patsy’s being sucked in, it didn’t go so far as to keep him from protecting his own interests. Now his mind was speedily calculating those interests. He knew that the hands dealt himself and Manny were honest. Irv had held two fours on the draw and he’d pulled two more. He was sure to have Manny beat out. And he knew that if he beat Nick, he had to have Elmer topped. The question was, just how much of a winning hand had Nick dealt himself? Irv’s mind juggled the numbers of the seven cards he’d seen and extrapolated the probabilities of how the remainder might be distributed. He weighed his surmises about the other two hands and concluded that Nick must be holding a flush. But was it a straight flush, or maybe even a royal flush? The chances were against. Irv saw the raise.

That brought it back to Elmer. He was sweating and concentrating on the cards and enjoying his feeling of togetherness. He was glad nobody had dropped out. It wasn’t so much that it made for a bigger pot; it was that it left the feeling of closeness unimpaired. But dared he chance another raise? Hell, why not! This was the best hand Elmer had held all night.

Now the other three were concentrating. Nick was trying to figure Irv. He’d expected him to drop out, and he hadn’t. Manny was also disturbed by Irv’s having stayed in and was re-evaluating his own position. Irv was figuring E1mer’s latest raise into his calculations.

The four of them were so intent that they didn’t hear the slight commotion, the raised voice and the running footsteps in the hall outside. The voice was that of the hotel detective. The footsteps were Llona’s and his. He’d spotted her emerging into the hall a few moments before, around the time Nick had dealt the hand.

“Hey, you!” the house dick had yelled.

Llona had jogged off down the hall just as fast as she could. . .

He’d followed, his belly joggling, his voice wheezy as he continued to yell after her. “Stop! Come back here! You can’t run around the halls of this hotel naked! We don’t allow—”

Llona desperately repeated a maneuver which had worked before. She raced ’round a bend in the hallway and turned the knob of the first door she reached. It opened and she slipped into the room. Taking a chance, she turned on the light. The room was empty. Llona locked the door behind her.

A moment later she heard the house detective try the knob. There was a long pause, and then she heard the tinkle of a key-ring. Llona didn’t know it because the carpet muffled the sound, but the detective accidentally broke open the ring in his fumblings and keys scattered helter-skelter over the hallway rug. He was on his knees, scrambling to recover them, as she followed a familiar path to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She crossed over to the other door, opened it, and slipped into the adjoining room. Llona froze in the shadows.

There were a lot of shadows. The only light in the room was a shaded bulb hanging over a small bridge table. Four men were crouched tensely over the table and studying the cards clutched in their hands. There was a large pile of money in the center of the table. None of the men had noticed Llona’s entrance. None of them noticed her naked figure crouching in front of the door to the bathroom now.

Llona was too upset to move. But she was also too afraid that the hotel detective might come through the door behind her to continue to just stand there. Confused and trembling, she took a hesitant step forward into the room.

Elmer looked up and his eyes met L1ona’s. But his brain refused to register what his eyes had seen. Elmer looked down at his cards again. He was savoring how great it was going to be when he raked in this pot, how the others would grudgingly congratulate him, how even their envy would make him feel like one of them.

Llona had frozen again. Those eyes! That ugly little man! She was sure he had seen her! He had looked straight at her! But he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t reacted at all. Why? Llona could only suppose that he must be nearsighted or something. She dared to take another step.

Manny looked up blankly. There was a naked woman there. Damned females! Always interfering with a man’s poker! Why the hell couldn’t they stay home where they belonged? Manny looked down at his cards again. Now, what the devil was with Irv? Was this one of his bluffs? And what the hell was he going to tell his wife when he got home? Nuts to that! He’d worry about it when the time came. For now he was going to enjoy the game. Damn women!

Llona scurried a few more steps.

Irv’s ears registered the pad of her footsteps. He looked up. A naked woman. Irv blinked. A naked woman. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. A naked woman. Pretty damn nice-looking, too.

Irv looked at the other men around the table and started to say something. He decided against it. None of them seemed to see this naked beauty. Irv told himself he must be seeing things. He must be getting senile. He’d heard of things like that. He remembered a conversation he’d had with a man about his own age only the other day.

“Don’t you ever get the yen for a woman?” the friend had asked. “Old as we are, don’t you ever feel like you’d like to get one of these hot young things between the sheets?”

“Sure I do,” Irv had answered. “Sure I do.”

“Well, what do you do about it?”

“Nothing. I don’t do anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because if I did, if I made a pass at some young girl, she’d probably cry.”

“So what? Let her cry.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Irv had agreed. “But the trouble is that she’d cry and I’d cry, too.”

Irv had practically no regrets about his life-—-about the things he’d done, the sins he might have committed, or the things he hadn’t done, or the sins he hadn’t committed— but that conversation had expressed one regret he ‘did have. It wasn’t much fun being too old to be able to do anything about the desires he probably shouldn’t have had in the first place. Still, there was always poker, and Irv didn’t really mind sublimating with it.

Only now it seemed the sublimation wasn't working. That naked woman! The one the others didn’t seem to see! His mind must have conjured her up, and Irv feared for his mental stability. Still, he half-congratulated himself, if he’d dreamed her up, for an old coger he’d certainly done a good job. She was as voluptuous as any girl he’d known during a satisfactorily misspent life. Irv took another long, appreciative look and sighed to himself. And he looked back at his cards without saying anything to the others about his vision.

Llona scurried a few more steps. This brought her into the range of Nick’s eyes. He caught her from the corner of one of them, a fleeting impression, peripheral and blurred. “What do you want?” he muttered without turning.

“Just let me think a minute,” Manny replied. It was his turn to see the raise. “Don’t rush me.”

“Not you,” Nick told him. “Her.”

“Her who?” Elmer looked around, but now Llona was out of his range.

“The broad,” Nick muttered again. “Chambermaid or something. But we didn’t call for anything.”

“Oh,” Elmer said, satisfied to let it go at that so that the game could continue.

But Irv wasn’t satisfied. “Then you saw her, too!” he said excitedly to Nick.

“Sure. She’s right there.” Nick jerked his thumb off to one side.

Llona crouched down behind an armchair.

“Where?” Manny asked, not really caring. “I don’t see anything.”

“I saw her,” Irv said. “But where’d she go?”

“Saw who?” Elmer asked, annoyed.

“The broad. The broad,” Nick told him. “Damn hotel is always sending these maids around when you don’t need them.”

“Do they always send them around without any clothes on?” Irv asked mildly.

“What are you talking about?” Nick said. “Of course she had clothes on.”

“No, she didn’t,” Irv insisted.

“Sure she did. Don’t be ridiculous. What would a broad without clothes be doing in my room in the middle of a poker game?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Irv told Nick.

“Wait a minute,” Manny said. “I think Irv is right. She didn’t have any clothes on.”

“Can’t we just forget about it and play cards,” Elmer whined. “Are you in or out, Manny?”

“I’m in.” Manny saw the raise. “And Elmer’s right. Come on, you guys. Let’s play cards. Our eyes must be playing tricks on us. That’s all.”

“That’s what I thought before,” Irv said. “But then Nick saw her, too.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Nick said. “Yeah, I saw her. So let’s settle this once and for all.” He laid his cards face down on the table. “I’ll have a look.” He started to stand up.

Frightened, Llona sprang up from behind the armchair and bolted for the door to the hall. She opened it, peered out, and then stood framed in the crack of light coming from the hallway for a moment. She’d seen the hotel detective still fumbling to open the door to the room next door with his passkey. Llona turned to face the men at the poker table, found no help in their astounded glances, and turned back to peep out the door again. The detective had opened the door. He stepped through it. Llona quietly tiptoed out behind his retreating figure and closed the door noiselessly behind her.

Her leaving brought a simultaneous reaction from the four poker players. Stunned, they had stared at her nudity framed in the doorway. Now that it had vanished, they reacted.

All four sprang to their feet, upsetting the table. Cards and chips went flying. The biggest pot of the night was forgotten. The hand was tossed to the winds.

Llona had proven that even the most addicted poker players can be shaken out of their obsession with the game!

Chapter Nine

THE TELEPHONE shrilled out doomsday and woke Ruby Gardner up that morning. The young blonde opened her baby blue eyes and rolled over to answer it. The movement revealed a slim body with plump breasts and shapely legs. The sunlight streaming through the window high-lighted her charms through a diaphanous nightgown.

“Hello. Oh, hello, Bill darling.” Her pleasant, farmgirl face dimpled as she recognized the voice on the other end of the line. “I was just dreaming about you.”

She listened a moment.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said throatily. “It was a very sexy dream. But then I have so much delicious data to base my dreams on . . . What? . . . Oh, all right. I’ll be serious. My you sound grumpy. Go on. Tell me what’s so important that you have to get me out of bed at the crack of dawn to talk about it.”

Ruby listened to the voice in the receiver for a long time and her dimples slowly disappeared as she listened.

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “Wait just a minute. This is all too fast for me. What do you mean we’re getting too serious? Isn’t it a little late for that conclusion? Of course we’ve gotten serious. I thought that's the way you wanted it. You said-—”

Ruby stopped talking again as the voice interrupted and crackled in her ear.

“But—"’ she said finally, forcing herself not to sob. “But you said you loved me, Bill. You said you loved me, and I believed you. If I hadn’t, I would never have let you —“

Another pause. A short one.

“A man gets carried away when he’s making love to a beautiful woman,” Ruby repeated. “That’s a hell of a thing to say to me, Bill. Aren’t you forgetting how you talked me into—- I see . . . Ancient history, huh? . . . Past and done with . . . How easy it is for you, Bill.”

The voice was crackling in her ear again, but now Ruby was crying too hard to really appreciate its efforts to be earnest.

“It’s not easy for you. All right, I do believe— It’s the hardest thing you ever had to do. I see . . . But Bill,” she sobbed, “where does that leave me? I thought you loved-— No, I won’t. I won’t get over it. I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! . . . Bill, don’t hang— Bill? Bill!” Slowly, Ruby replaced the phone on its cradle. Good-bye, Bill. She thought the words without speaking them aloud. Good-bye.

Ruby burrowed into the pillow and began to cry. She felt as if she’d never stop. She’d been a virgin when she met Bill, He’d said he loved her, and she’d fallen in love with him, and so she’d gone to bed with him. Many times. And each time he’d assured Ruby of his love. And now this! He was through with her. Just like that! It was over. Just like that!

It was more than Ruby could bear. I'll kill myself! she thought. The idea brought her up short. It frightened her. She’d never even considered such a possibility before. Slowly, she accustomed herself to the thought.

Suicide! Well, why not? What had she left to live for without Bill? He didn’t love her. He’d never loved her. He’d simply used her, violated her body, taken advantage of her foolish innocence, and now deserted her. But she loved him! She loved him so much! She couldn’t go on without him. She couldn’t. She’d rather die!

Ruby knew then that she’d accepted the idea. Suicide! Yes! It was decided. Ruby would kill herself!

But how? All that remained was to decide how. Slowly, Ruby rose from the bed and strode over to the window. She looked out and down the facade of the Marlowe Hotel. Five floors. A long way to the street. A long way down. The people below looked so small. Like ants. How would it feel to jump? What would it be like when she hit the pavement?

But suppose she hit someone below? Some innocent person. Maybe even a child. A child . . . The impact could kill a child. No, Ruby decided, she wouldn't jump. She would kill herself, yes, but she wouldn’t jeopardize some innocent life to do it. She’d choose another way.

Bill! She thought of him again and the tears flowed, blurring her vision. Ruby went over to her dresser, opened the drawer and took out a nail file. Was it sharp enough? She guessed it was. Now, all she had to do was hold it to her heart and fall on top of it.

Ruby pressed the point against her breast. She could just barely feel it through the material of her nightie. Impatiently, she pulled off the nightie and pressed the sharp metal against the bare flesh of her left breast. Was that the right spot? Ruby wasn’t sure. She remembered reading somewhere that the heart really wasn’t on the left side of the chest, but in the center. She shifted the blade and pressed it up against her diaphragm until she felt it nick the flesh. Then she removed the blade and searched the flesh there with her fingertips until she was sure she could feel a faint heartbeat. That was the spot! That pulse! Ruby took the nail file in both hands and pressed the point to the spot upon which she’d decided.

She stood poised in the center of the floor for a moment. Then she pushed hard and forced herself to fall forward. But the blade skidded off her ribcage, gashing the cleft between her breasts, but doing little more damage than that.

Ruby picked herself up off the floor and surveyed the scratch between her breasts in the mirror. Dully, she thought to herself that she really should put something on it before it became infected. She went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.

This is ridiculous! She slammed the bottle of iodine back on the shelf. If I’m going to kill myself, then what am I worrying about infection for? But do I really want to kill myself? Oh, Bill! Tears blotted out her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Yes, I do! I want to die! And the sooner the better!

Through her tears, Ruby saw the bottle of sleeping tablets on the shelf in the open medicine cabinet. Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? Quick and pain- less! Oh, Bill! Tears blinded her again as she groped for the bottle. Impatiently, she grabbed it and shook out the pills. About fifteen of them. That should be enough. Ruby poured a tumbler of water and began washing the pills down her throat. When they were all swallowed, she went inside and lay back down on the bed, waiting to die. In just a little while now, she told herself, it will be all over!

But that’s where Ruby was wrong. In just a little while, what happened was that it all began. A sharp cramp. Then another. And a third that sent Ruby hurtling toward the bathroom as if she’d been fired by a jet cannon.

She just made it. And as she sat, from the corner of her eye, she could see the bottle of sleeping pills still perched on the shelf of the open medicine cabinet. She looked at the empty bottle on the washstand. The label told her that the pills it had contained had been laxative. In her crying over Bill, she’d grabbed up the wrong bottle. She’d taken fifteen laxative pills. And now the pills were beginning to work. Oh, how they were working!

It was early afternoon before Ruby dared to leave the bathroom. She was weak and trembling, but more than ever determined to end it all. The interlude seemed to sum up her life. The agony she’d gone through—that was all there was. So why not end it now?

But there still remained the question of how to accomplish that end. Ruby thought about it while she got dressed. But she still hadn’t answered the question when she finished. Aimlessly, she left her room and wandered out into the street, still searching for the answer.

She drifted down the block from the Marlowe Hotel, still thinking of the treacherous Bill, her eyes still clouding with tears. A middle-aged woman approached her and stopped directly in front of her, blocking her path. “Is there anything wrong, my dear?” she asked solicitously. “Can I help you?”

“No,” Ruby replied, embarrassed. “I'm all right.” She turned away from the woman, gazed into a storefront, and rubbed the tears from her eyes.”

The woman looked at her a moment, shrugged, and continued walking.

Ruby found herself looking into the window of a pawnshop. Slowly, her eyes focussed on the contents of the window. They came to rest on a large, pearl-handled revolver. Ruby thought about it a moment and then entered the shop.

“Can I help you?” The man behind the counter was young, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, not at all bad-looking. His eyes approved of Ruby. More. They were impressed and interested.

“That gun in the window. Is it--? Is it for sale?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid you have to have a pistol permit to buy it. Do you have a permit?”

“Yes,” Ruby lied. “Yes, I have a permit. But I don’t have it with me.”

“You’ll have to get it and show it to me before I can sell you the gun. I’m sorry.” He looked as if he meant it. “But that’s the law.”

“Oh, of course. I see. Yes. That’s no problem. I’ll just go home and get it and bring it in.”

“That will be fine.” Reluctant to see her go, the young man added his next words quickly. “If you’d like to look at it now, I guess that would be okay. I can get it out of the window for you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble—”

“No trouble at all,” the young man assured her. He opened the window showcase from the inside and leaned over to pull out the gun. “Here we are.” He handed it to Ruby.

“Is it loaded?” she asked, staring at the revolver lying in the palm of her hand.

“Of course not.” He was startled. “We don’t keep loaded guns around the place. That’s dangerous.”

“Yes. I see. I wonder -- Could you show me how it works?”

“Glad to.” He took the gun from her. “Now this is the safety. You always keep it locked except for when you’re actually ready to use the gun. Then you just slip it off like this.” He flicked the safety off with his thumb. “And when you want to shoot, you squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it, squeeze it.”

“I see. And how do you load it?”

“That’s easy. You just-— Say, you’ve never had a gun before, have you?”

"No."

“How come you took out a permit, then?” the young man asked.

“There was a robbery next door,” Ruby told him, making it up as she went along. “It frightened me. I have a friend with the police and he got me a permit. So now I want to get a gun to go with it. But you’re right. I don’t really know much about how guns work.” She paused until his face told her he had swallowed the story. “You were going to show me how to load it,” she reminded him.

“Oh, sure.” He broke open the gun and showed her the cartridge chamber. “You just slip the bullets in here, close it again, put the safety back on, and that’s all there is to it.” He performed the operation as he talked. “See?”

“I’m not sure.” Ruby feigned dullness. “Maybe if you could show me how it works with real ammunition— You have some bullets for it here, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure. Right here.” He opened the drawer and took out some bullets. “Here, I’ll show you again.” He broke open the gun, slipped in three cartridges, and snapped it closed again. He flicked on the safety. “Now do you see? That’s all there is to it?”

“I see. Could I hold it for a minute now? I mean, I’d just like to see how it feels with the bullets in it?”

“Well, I really shouldn’t—”

“Please.” Ruby fluttered her eyelids at him and smiled coyly.

“Well,” he smiled back, “I guess it can’t do any harm. You hardly look like the kind of girl who’d try to hold up a hock shop.” He handed her the loaded gun. “Just remember not to switch the safety off,” he reminded her.

“I’ll remember.” Ruby took the gun and weighed it in her hand.

The young man turned away for an instant, just remembering to lock the drawer from which he’d taken the bullets.

Quick as a flash, Ruby raised the revolver to her temple and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Only a click.

The young man turned back to her, unaware of the action. The gun was in her hand and her hand rested on the counter, just as it had before he turned away.

“How did you say you fired this thing?” Ruby asked, a touch of annoyance in her voice.

“Well, first you click off the safety, and then --”

Of course! She’d forgotten the safety! “That other gun in the window,” she said. “I wonder if you could get it out so I could compare it with this one close up.”

“Sure. Glad to. This is the better gun, though. The stock’s genuine mother-of-—” He continued talking as he I bent his head over the showcase and reached into it. With his back to her, Ruby was inspired to try again. She flicked off the safety. She pointed the gun at her head with the mouth of the barrel touching. She pulled the trigger.

Again nothing happened.

The young man turned around, the second gun in his hand. “Here we are,” he told her.

Ruby ignored the second gun. “Are you sure this gun works?” Her voice was quite annoyed now.

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll guarantee it. You don’t have to worry.” He looked at her curiously.

“You just switch off the safety and pull the trigger and it will fire,” Ruby said persistently.

“Is that all there is to it?”

“Sure. As long as there’s a bullet in the chamber, it’ll fire.”

“A bullet in the chamber? What does that mean?” -

“Well, this chamber holds five cartridges. I put three in before, remember? That means there are two empty chambers. Now, if you pull the trigger and the hammer hits an empty chamber, then nothing will happen. But if you hit one with a bullet in it, then pow. Do you understand it now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. Now, about this other gun-—” He held up the second revolver.

“Never mind. I think you were right. This is the better gun. You can put that one back.”

He turned away again to return the second gun to the window showcase.

Ruby stuck the gun in her mouth, switched off the safety and pulled the trigger once again.

For the second time the hammer hit an empty chamber. For the third time nothing happened.

Only this time the young man had seen her action out of the corner of his eye. “Are you nuts!” He whirled around and grabbed for the gun before she could pull the trigger again.

They grappled for it. He got it out of her mouth and forced her hand down, away from her head. She managed to hold onto it, but it was pointing away from her now, toward the interior of the shop. He banged her hand against the counter, trying to make her drop the gun. Her finger squeezed the trigger and the gun went off.

She dropped it then—dropped it, wrenched free and ran. He was right behind her, yelling. Ruby raced around a corner. There was a subway entrance there. She didn’t hesitate. She plunged down the stairway. He didn’t see her duck into the subway and continued running down the street, thinking he was still chasing her.

Ruby bought a token and went through the turnstile. I botch everything, she was thinking to herself. My love affair. My whole life. And now even trying to kill myself. I just can’t do anything right. No wonder Bill doesn’t want me!

But Ruby was determined. She’d had it. She was through with life. She vowed that this was one act she wouldn’t botch again. She’d find a way to kill herself. She’d end her life if it was the last thing she did! The thought made her smile wryly.

As she stood there at the edge of the subway platform, the sound of an approaching train made the means to her end appear suddenly obvious to Ruby. Of course! So simple! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She’d simply throw herself in front of the speeding subway train and that would be it. Simple!

She leaned out over the platform and peered down the track. She had a flash of regret that she hadn’t brought her glasses with her. She was so damn myopic without them. If she’d brought them, she could have judged the approaching train just right and jumped at the last minute. Somehow, that would have been easier. But she didn’t have them with her, and so she’d just have to do it the hard way.

As soon as she saw the lights of the approaching train, Ruby leaped lightly from the platform to the tracks. She lay across the tracks face down, her neck neatly resting on one, the other cutting across her thighs. She didn’t know it, but one of her hands was a scant half-inch from the third rail. With her other hand she was demurely arranging her skirt over her legs, not wishing to look awkward if anybody should spy her from the platform above during the moment or so of life remaining to her. Suicide was all very well, but Ruby wanted to die in a ladylike fashion.

The thunder of the approaching train was still faint when somebody did see her. “Hey!!’ he yelled. “Look! Look there! There’s a girl lying on the tracks!”

Others took up his cry, and a crowd collected.

“Oh, my God! There’s a train coming!” a woman screamed.

“Come on, girlie, grab my hand.” A man leaned out over the tracks. ”I’ll pull you up. There’s still time!”

“There isn’t!” Another woman screamed hysterically. “Here comes the train!”

The hubbub of voices was lost to Ruby as the rumble of the approaching train turned into a roar. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the end. The roar was so loud now that her ears hurt. Just another second more and—

And nothing!

The train sped past her and the rumble receded. Dazed, Ruby sat up. She found herself looking at the back of the receding train. The lit-up sign on the back of the last car said “M”, and just under that was the word, “EXPRESS”. Ruby looked up at the platform from which she’d come. There was a sign there. It said “Local Trains Only”.

“Damn!” Ruby told herself. “I goofed again!”

The crowd was still at the edge of the platform. “Come on, girlie, take my hand,” the man was coaxing.

“Call a policeman!” a woman was insisting. “That girl is trying to kill herself.”

“She nearly gave me a heart attack,” another woman complained. “She ought to be arrested.”

“Ahh, if she wants to jump, it’s her business,” another male voice opined.

“Yeah, but what a waste of pulchritude,” a younger man said, eyeing Ruby’s breasts appreciatively as she sat up.

“I’m going for a cop,” still another man said firmly. “She doesn’t look like she’ll come up from there. I’m going for a cop before it’s too late.”

Ruby heard that. She looked at the crowd on the platform. She knew she’d be too embarrassed to ever face them. She’d sooner die than face them. But with that man going for a cop, there might not be time to die. She bolted across the tracks, between the pillars, and across the tracks on the other side of them, and then pulled herself up on the other platform. A train had just pulled in on the other side of that platform. Ruby dived into it just as the doors were closing.

She found a seat and took it. She sat with her eyes shut, filled with self-disgust at her ineptitude, unable to see anything behind her closed lids but Bill’s face. Wallowing in her hurt, she let the train carry her along.

At some point, she must have dozed off. The next thing she knew someone was shaking her gently by the shoulder. “End of the line, miss. End of the line.” She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the not unkindly face of a subway conductor. “End of the line,” he repeated.

“Oh. Thank you,” she said automatically.

“You miss your stop, miss?”

Did I miss my stop? All of them! I missed all the stops in my life. I even missed the last one. A few times now I’ve missed it. But I won’t miss it again! “No,” she told him. “I didn’t miss my stop.”

“This is the end of the line.”

“Is it? That’s just fine. That’s just where I was going. To the end of the line.”

The trainman scratched his head as he watched her get off the train. Then he shrugged and signalled the engineer. A moment later the train pulled away.

Ruby found herself on an elevated platform. At some point the train had emerged from the bowels of the subway to run along the elevated tracks. She walked over to the side of the platform away from the tracks and looked out over the low wall there.

She could see that she’d come all the way out to the city limits. She could even see the lake from here. The lake! Well, why not? Death by drowning was as good as any other way!

Ruby walked down the elevated stairs and out into the street. A sparse cluster of stores and then nothing but houses, widely spaced, lots of empty lots between them. It was dinner time now and the neighborhood was deserted. Ruby walked straight toward the lakefront.

When she got there, it too was deserted. She walked to the foot of the pier and stood there looking out over the water for a long time. Then she began to take off her clothes.

This is silly, she told herself. If I’m going to die, what difference does it make whether or not I get my dress wet? Nevertheless, she continued to strip down to her bra and panties. Then she neatly folded the clothing she’d taken off and set it down in a neat pile a little back from the edge of the pier.

Ruby lowered herself into the water. Ordinarily, she would have dived, but under these circumstances diving seemed too frisky and lighthearted an act to perform. The water just reached her breasts, the ripples she made causing it to just lap at the tips. She looked down at her scarlet nipples, distended and visible now where the water had turned the bra transparent. They ached slightly, the way they used to ache when Bill would fondle them so that they would quiver with passion. The memory made her bite her lip to hold back the tears. Head high, she walked out into the lake.

When she’d walked as far as she could, she started to swim. She swam slowly and steadily for a long time. Her limbs grew heavy and her muscles weary, but still she swam. Finally, she knew she could go no farther. Lassitude engulfed her as she felt herself start to sink. She breathed in slowly, sucking water into her lungs. She felt herself dropping, felt the lake closing over her. Ruby let herself ease into the blackness until blackness was all there was. And then there wasn’t even that. Then there was nothing . . .

The two hands were squeezing Ruby's naked breasts as if they were rubber balls and the hands were engaged in some sort of rhythmic muscle exercise. They were the first thing Ruby became aware of, even before she opened her eyes. When she did open them, they focussed on her bra, crumpled up and lying near her head.

She felt the pressure of a man’s weight atop her body and she heard his heavy breathing. For a moment, she was back in bed with Bill, lying in his arms, being possessed by him, being seduced by him and knowing that this was just the prelude to the betrayal and the hurt. “No!” She’d meant to shout it, but it came out weakly, a murmur of protest.

“Hey there.” The hands closed over her breasts and turned her over. An arm reached behind her to support her in a sitting position. “How you feeling?”

Ruby found herself looking up into a young face, freckled, weather beaten, not handsome, but pleasantly ugly. For a moment the face too reminded her of Bill. “What do you think you’re doing to me?” she said.

“Trying to squish the water out of you,” he said, grinning. “You must have swallowed half the lake.”

“I don’t care! Get your hands off me!”

“Sorry.” He took his hands away, and she just managed to keep her balance and keep from falling over backward. “You’re still pretty weak,” he told her.

“I’m all right. Who are you?”

“Al Wainwright. I was fishing out there when I saw you going down. You’re the only thing I caught all day.” He grinned. “You shouldn’t have tried to swim so far,” he added.

“No kidding?” Rudy said sarcastically. “So you pulled me out and now you’re a big hero, huh?”

“I pulled you out.” Al looked puzzled at her tone.

“Thanks a lot,” she said flatly.

“You’re welcome, I guess. But tell me, what the dickens are you so hostile about?”

“Men. You’re all alike. You pull a girl out of the water, and what’s the first thing you do? I’ll tell you. You take advantage of the fact that she’s unconscious by copping a feel. That’s what.”

“Copping a feel? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about those roaming hands of yours. That’s what. The first thing you do is undress me, and then --” That reminded Ruby of her half-dressed state, and she grabbed for her bra and began putting it on. But the bra didn’t help. It was sopping wet. Her breasts were clearly visible through it.

Al was human enough to stare even as he was defending himself against her accusation. “I was not getting fresh!” he insisted. “I was giving you artificial respiration. And judging from the amount of water you brought up, it’s a lucky thing I did.”

“Oh, sure.”

“I was!” he told her hotly.

“All right. So thanks. You’re a hero. You saved my life. I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“You don’t sound very grateful.”

“All right, so I’m an ingrate. Look, you did your good deed for the day. Now why don’t you just toddle back to your scoutmaster? The lady isn’t in distress any more.”

“Wait a minute! I saved your life. If I were a Chinese, that would make me responsible for you.”

“But you’re not a Chinese.” Ruby pointed out.

“Maybe not. But I’d still like to know one thing. I think I’m entitled to know it. Just what were you doing in the middle of the lake in your undies at nightfall anyway?”

“Taking a swim. What else?”

“Maybe trying to pull a Brodie. Maybe trying to kill yourself. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Suppose it is. I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

Suicide is everybody’s business,” Al said earnestly. “Nobody can just stand by idly and watch another person kill himself.”

“You’re quite a humanist. But I’m not up to arguing the point right now. You saved me. I thanked you. What more do you want?”

“Lots. You owe me something.”

“Oh. Like that.” Ruby misunderstood. “All right, Lochinvar. What the hell do I care? Come and get it.” She stretched out on the pier and spread her legs lewdly. “Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Al was actually blushing. “I mean you owe me your life. I mean you owe it to me not to try it again. Will you promise me you won’t?”

“Oh, sure. I promise.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Sorry. I mean it. I won’t try it again.” Ruby knew she was lying, but she just wanted him to stop bugging her now.

“Well, all right.” He was still doubtful, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“Can I get dressed and go now?”

“Sure. If you feel well enough.”

“I feel fine. Just fine.” Ruby pulled on her clothes quickly. “Good-bye and thanks again,” she told him. She hurried off in the direction of the elevated station.

He watched her go until she was out of sight. Then he turned and started for the end of the pier where he’d tied up his rowboat. That’s when he saw it. Her pocketbook. In her hurry, she’d run off and left it. He picked it up and started after her. But it was too late. She was already out of sight. He grinned, tossed it into the rowboat, climbed in after it, cast off, and started to row back across the lake.

Ruby didn’t miss her pocketbook until she reached the turnstile of the elevated station. She found some small change in the pocket of her dress and it was enough for her fare. She decided against traipsing back for the handbag. She was simply too damn tired.

She fell asleep almost the moment she sat down on the train. It was a troubled sleep full of nightmarish visions of Bill. He kept changing into the young man in the pawn shop, into the man reaching his hand down to her from the subway platform, into Al Wainwright. First, as Bill, he was cramming pills down her throat. Then he was holding her hand with the gun in it and helping her squeeze the trigger. And then he was pushing her off the subway platform under the wheels of a speeding train. Finally, he was squeezing her breasts and pushing her head under water.

Ruby woke with a start just as the train was pulling out of an underground station. The sign flashing past on the platform told her that the next stop was hers. When the train stopped again, she got off and mounted the stairs to the street. A few moments later she was back in her room at the Marlowe Hotel.

But nothing had changed. If anything, Ruby felt even more hopeless and forlorn than when the day had started. The emptiness of her lonely room seemed only to echo the emptiness of her life, of her soul. Without Bill there was nothing. That’s how it had been this morning. That’s how it was now. Without Bill she had no one. No one.

So Ruby once again decided to go through with killing herself. She tied together three of her nightgowns to form something approximating a long rope. She climbed up on a chair and tied the “rope” to the ceiling chandelier. Then she looped it around her neck in such a way as to take up all the slack. She knotted it securely and took a deep breath. She meant it to be her last. As she exhaled it, she kicked the chair out from under her.

CRASH!

The chandelier had torn loose from its mooring and crashed to the floor with a tinkle of shattering glass and metal. Ruby had fallen with it. She was sprawled awkwardly, and had acquired several aches.

“Damn!” Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

She got back up on the chair and investigated the hole in the ceiling. Where the plaster had torn loose she could see the beam to which the chandelier had been fastened. The beam was intact. Ruby tied her “rope” of nightgowns to the beam and poised to kick the chair out from under her again.

The telephone rang.

By reflex, Rudy started to climb down from the chair to answer it. Forgetting about the noose around her neck, she almost hung herself right then and there.

“Damn!” She unwound the slack of the “rope” and climbed down from the chair. However, the noose was still around her neck, the other end still attached to the beam, as she answered the phone. “Hello!” she snapped.

“Hello. This is Al Wainwright. Remember me?”

“How could I forget? My hero."

“Still sarcastic, hey? Well, I guess that’s the price I have to pay for going around fishing girls out of lakes.”

“I didn’t know you made a habit of it.”

“I don’t. You’re my first catch. I think I’ll have you mounted and hang you on my bedroom wall.”

Despite herself, Ruby giggled. Oddly, this made her angry with herself. It was ridiculous for a girl on the verge of suicide to giggle. The anger came out in her curt tone of voice. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Oh, like that, hey? All right. I found your pocketbook. I thought you might like it back.”

“Oh. That explains how you found my name and number.”

“That it does.”

“What else did you find rummaging through my private things?”

“Not much,” he told her cheerfully. “Not much at all. Except, oh yeah, who’s Bill?”

“None of your business,” Ruby snapped.

“Okay. Only he sure does write lousy love letters. And his syntax is way off, too.”

“Never mind his syntax. It doesn’t concern you.”

“Okay. Okay. I just want to return your pocketbook.”

“Fine. I’m at the Hotel Marlowe. You can leave it at the desk.”

“Leave it at the desk! Now, wait just a minute, lady! I’ve had about enough of you! I pull you out of the briny and all you’ve done is insult me ever since. Okay. I took it. But I’m not your goddamn messenger boy! I’m not leaving anything at any desk. You want it back, you’ll just have to put up with seeing me in person!”

“Oh, all right. I’m sorry. I really have been bitchy, haven’t I? You can bring it up to my room if you want.”

She gave him the room number.

“Twenty minutes,” he told her and hung up.

Twenty minutes! Ruby looked around. The room was a mess. She was a mess. Twenty minutes. She’d have to work fast. She started for the closet to get a broom to sweep up the debris of the fallen chandelier.

She moved too abruptly. Again she forgot about the noose around her neck. It caught her up short and she took a hard pratfall.

“Damn!” She tore the noose off her neck. Then she raced around putting things in order. Suddenly, life didn’t seem so bleak to Ruby any more. An attractive young man was showing some interest in her. She forgot all about Bill, all about committing suicide in getting ready to receive him. She didn’t allow the thought to take form, but the truth was that she was feeling that it was good to be alive.

It was a hot night, and Ruby was just throwing the windows wide open when Al knocked at the door. She had to stop herself from running to answer the knock. “Hello.” She found herself smiling at him standing in the doorway.

“Wainwright Delivery at your service.” He grinned back at her.

“Thanks.” She took the pocketbook he was holding out to her. “Come on in.”

“Love to. Say, you can smile after all. I thought maybe your dimples were atrophied or something.”

“Oh, I can smile. Sit down. Can I get you a drink?”

“If you’ll have one with me.”

“Sure. Scotch all right? It’ll have to be. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Scotch is fine. Neat.”

“That's the only way.” Ruby poured the liquor into two tumblers and then handed one of them to him. “Cheers.”

“A long life and a merry one.” He took a healthy gulp. “And can you buy that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied truthfully.

“Oh Lord, don’t tell me you’re still contemplating taking the gaspipe.”

“Well, no. Not at the moment. But--”

“But?”

“Never mind.” Ruby shook her head. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“I won’t be bored. It’s Bill of the ungrammatical billet doux, isn’t it?”

Ruby nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. The mere mention of Bill’s name had started the tears welling up inside her again.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” And immediately Ruby found herself pouring it all out to him. She didn’t know why. She’d meant the negative answer. But suddenly she had to talk to someone, and A1 had such a sympathetic and understanding look.

He listened patiently. And when she broke down, he took her in his arms and comforted her. Somehow, then, he was kissing her and Ruby found herself kissing back. It felt so warm and safe in Al’s arms. It felt so good to be wanted!

At first it was only that. But slowly his caresses became more than comforting. They became erotic, then insistent. And Ruby found herself responding to them.

“Don’t hurt me,” she said as he fondled her plump breasts.

“Am I being too rough? I’m sorry.”

“No. I don’t mean that. I mean don’t hurt me. Don’t lie to me. Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

“I won’t,” he assured her as he pulled her panties down her trembling thighs.

“Do you really like me?” she asked in a pleading voice as his lips skip-kissed her rounded belly.

“Sure I do.”

“And do you want me? I mean, not just any girl, but me! Me! Because I’m me!” She was shaking violently now as he knelt in front of her and his tongue caressed the inner surface of her thighs.

“Only you, Ruby. Only you.”

His mouth moved higher and her buttocks bounced as a wave of desire seized her body. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she pleaded. “I’ll go to bed with you if you want. But don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I mean it. l’m in love with you, Ruby.” His voice was muffled in his own ears as her thighs clenched around his ears.

“Then take me, my darling. Take me!”

“I will. But first this. I love this. I love the way you’re reacting. First this, and then together.” His lips fastened over her flesh and his tongue dipped deep.

“Oh! Yes! Ah! Yes-yes-yes! Now! Now-now-now!”

The door opened. It was closed with a slight click. The sound made Al glance up. His jaw dropped open. It stayed that way.

“Oh! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop! Why are you stopping?”

“We’ve got company.” Al found his voice.

“Sorry.” Llona was standing with her back to the door as she spoke. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I must have gotten into the wrong room.”

“It’s all right.” Al licked his lips as he surveyed her nude body. “No trouble at all.”

“It is not all right!” Ruby had whirled around. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I told you. I must have gotten into the wrong room.”

“Well, you can get right out again!”

“Now wait a minute, Ruby,” Al said. “Don’t be unkind. You can’t throw the lady out into the cold cruel world without any clothes.”

“The hell I can’t!”

“Now Ruby, don’t be inhospitable. You’ve got a guest, even if she is somewhat unexpected. Why not ask the lady if she’d like a drink.”

“I’d love one.” Llona smiled at him.

“But we were right in the middle—” Ruby started to protest.

“So we were. So we were,” Al said placatingly. “And we’ll get back to it, too. But first let’s give the lady a drink. Then maybe she’d like to join our little party.”

“What!” There was shock and hurt in Ruby’s voice.

“Thank you.” Llona accepted the glass of scotch Al handed her. “I don’t know if I’d mind joining your little party at all. But the lady seems to have some objections.”

“She just hasn’t thought it through. That’s all,” Al assured Llona. “When she does, she’ll see what fun the three of us could have.”

“You louse!” Ruby said. “You’re just like all the rest. Men!”

“Don’t knock ’em, honey. They’re the only other sex we’ve got,” Llona reminded her.

“You don’t care about me. You just wanted to dip your wick. That was all!”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” A1 wanted to know. “Don’t say you weren’t enjoying it. And threesies can be even more fun than twosies.”

“I wouldn’t know about that!” Ruby told him.

“Well, don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.” *

“Ooohh! You're disgusting! You and every other man! And to think I was going to kill myself over a man! How dumb can a girl get? No-man is worth dying for!”

“You can say that again, honey,” Llona told her.

“Don’t you worry! I don’t want to kill myself any more. I'm not going to die for a man. I’m going to live for myself. And woe to any man who crosses my path, ‘cause I’m going to be hell on them!”

“Okay. Start with me,” Al said. “The three of us can have a real swingin’ little party.”

“You two just go right ahead,” Ruby told him. “Don’t mind me. Hell, this is only my room. But don’t let that stop you. Just go ahead and forget I’m here.” She crossed over to the open window and stood there with her back to them. She leaned her hands on the low sill and felt her anger mount.

“Come on, honey.” Al walked toward Llona. “If we start, she’1l get excited after a while and join in. She’ll get off her high horse. You’ll see.”

“I will no—” Ruby started to wheel around angrily. The movement was too fast. The carpet slid out from under her feet. She went hurtling out the window, her scream trailing up as she fell.

Her body didn’t hit anybody. Only the pavement. Ruby died the moment she hit.

Chapter Ten

LLONA was stunned, as was Al. They rushed to the window and looked down at what was left of Ruby. Llona turned quickly away. Al followed her into the center of the room.

“I don’t understand,” he said, dazed. “She said she didn’t want to kill herself. She said she decided to live.”

“It was an accident,” Llona told him. “She didn’t mean to do it. Were you- Were you very close to her?” she asked after a pause.

“I just met her today. I pulled her out of the lake. I saved her from drowning.”

“It looks like you could have saved yourself the trouble.”

“I guess so. Well, what now?”

“What do you mean?” Llona asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I better call the management or something,” A1 said. He started for the telephone.

“Well, you go right ahead. But I’m getting out of here before you do.”

“But where are you going? I mean, without any clothes or anything.” A1 thought about that a moment. “It sure has been a crazy night,” he said, lifting the phone from the cradle. . -

“You don’t know the half of it,” Llona told him with fervor. “So long now,” she added hastily as he lifted the receiver to his ear. She slipped out into the hallway quickly.

All clear. Llona dashed down the empty hallway for Lansing’s room. She stopped in front of the door and looked at the number. 509. That was the number—wasn’t it? She suffered a momentary disorientation. 507? 505? 501? What was the number of Lansing’s room anyway?

Oh, she was being ridiculous! 509. Surely this was it. She’d stopped in front of the door instinctively, hadn’t she? If she hadn’t stopped to think about it, she would have been sure. She was just being silly. 509. This was it. Llona opened the door and went inside.

“Amos! She’s back!” The voice bellowed out of the darkness.

“What? What is it Agatha? What’s wrong, my pet?”

“Don’t you ‘my pet’ me, you worm! She’s back, I tell you! Your shameless hussy of a mistress has come back!”

“Agatha, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The light was switched on and Amos started fumbling in the general vicinity of the nightstand for his spectacles.

“There! There she is!” Agatha Tweedlebert pointed dramatically.

“So she is.” Amos peered through his spectacles and decided against pinching himself to see if he was dreaming. If he was, he didn’t want to chance waking himself up.

“And she’s still naked!” Agatha roared.

“So. She. Is.”

“Amos, you stop looking at her like that.”

“Sorry, my love. Looking at her like what?”

“Like a lecher, that’s what! I know you’re a lecher, but you don’t have to advertise it.”

“Sorry.”

“Amos, hand me that book.”

“This book? What for, my love?”

“So I can throw it at her, that’s what for. Come on, you ogling twerp! Let me have it.”

“Here?’ Amos handed her the book absent-mindedly and continued staring at Llona.

“Amos!” The cover had slipped off the book in transit, and Agatha was staring at it appalled. “What have you been reading?”

“Why, umm—”

“Pornography! Amos, you’ve been reading pornography!”

“No I haven't. I --”

“Satyr!” She brought the book down on top of his skull, and Amos fled the bed. “That’s right! Run to your painted Jezebel! You worm! Women! Dirty books! It’s too much! Do you hear me? Too much! I want a divorce! Do you hear me, you cringing lecher? A divorce!”

Throughout, Agatha had kept up a rapid fire of objects aimed indiscriminately at Amos and Llona. The oddly matched pair kept trying to get behind each other to avoid being hit. Finally, Llona managed to get the door opened. Amos scurried out of it ahead of her. Llona followed, pulling it closed behind her.

“Oh, no! You don’t get away that easy!” Agatha bounded from the bed. She tugged at the doorknob, but couldn’t budge it. “Divorce!” she screamed.

Llona was holding the knob on her side, her feet braced on either side of the doorframe. “I don’t think she means it.” She tried to console Amos, who was cowering behind her.

“You don’t? That's too bad.” His face fell.

“When she calms down you can explain it to her.”

“Explain it to her? How? I don’t understand it myself.”

“Well, just convince her that you really never saw me before.”

“And if I do that she won't divorce me?”

“Of course not,” Llona said soothingly.

“Then I won’! do it.” Amos stooped over and picked up the book Agatha had accidentally flung through the transom. He thumbed a few pages and smiled to himself. “Nope. I won’t do it.”

“Suit yourself. Say, would you mind holding onto this door for a minute? I’m getting tired.” '

“All right.” Amos grasped the knob in both hands and braced himself.

Llona stood back and listened to the torrent of abuse coming through the door. “My, she certainly has a temper,” she observed.

“Yes, she does. With her shouting like that, somebody’s sure to call the management.”

“You know, you’re right,” Llona said. “And in that case, I think I’d better be going. I don’t think I’m up to meeting the management right now.”

“But you’re not going to leave me alone here like this!” Amos looked at her desperately.

“I’m afraid I have to.”

“But what will I do?"

“Just don’t let go of that knob,” Llona told him. “Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

Amos watched her retreating nudity with mixed feelings. He watched until she rounded the corner of the hall and vanished from his sight.

Coming around the corner, Llona bumped head-on into a middle-aged, well-dressed couple. “Pardon me,” she said.

“Pardon me,” they chorussed in return. .

“It’s her again,” the man whispered as she passed.

“Yes, it is.”

“She’s still not wearing any clothes.”

“I noticed. And I noticed that you noticed, too. I still think it’s some kind of advertising gimmick. Probably some new service of the hotel’s.”

“Some new service, huh?” the man mused. “Well, I think we should find out about it. Maybe it’s something we could use.”

“I don’t think we should find out about it. I don’t think I could use it at all.”

“Well,” the man muttered, “I might be able to.”

“Not at your age.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some things are ageless.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She took his arm and led him into their room.

When Llona heard their door close behind her, she slowed down. What was she doing? Where was she going? Lansing’s room was back the way she’d come, right next door to the little man with the violent wife. Wasn't ‘it? Of course it was. Llona steeled herself and started to retrace her steps.

As she rounded the bend again, she heard the voice of the hotel detective talking to Amos Tweedlebert. “. . . and after all, she’s your wife. You’ll just have to stop her carrying on. We can’t have this kind of a commotion . . .” He saw Llona before she could run away.

“Hey! You there! Stop!”

But Llona was fleeing again. She raced down the stair- well with him chasing behind her. As if by instinct, Llona ran into the hall on the next floor, and made a beeline straight into Room 401.

The Barkers were so preoccupied that for a moment they didn’t notice Llona’s quiet entrance. They’d spent the interim since her last appearance mostly in quarreling. However, it was their honeymoon, and the quarrel had abaten in the face of their mutual realization that it was using up the precious time of their wedding night.

With this realization, Alice also admitted to herself that she’d been shaken up by Joe’s interest in another woman’s nudity at such a time. Her jealousy had fought with her modesty, and her determination to hold her bridegroom’s interest had decided the issue. She had gotten out of the bed and into the middle of the floor and slowly started to remove her nightgown. Joe, his penchant for the visual side of sex in the process of being realized at last, crouched forward on the bed to watch her.

Slowly, the flimsy material fell away from Alice’s breasts. Then the garment was sliding down over her hips. Finally it lay crumpled at her feet. Joe looked at his naked bride and licked his lips. She smiled at him, a little embarrassed, but eager as well. The lustful look he shot back at her made her turn momentarily shy. Demurely, she turned her face away. And that’s when she saw Llona.

“Joe! She's back!”

Joe followed her gaze. “I’ll say!"

“Make her get out of here!”

Joe didn’t answer. He took a long look at Llona’s naked and voluptuous figure. Then he looked at Alice’: nude body. He looked back’at Llona. His silence said regretfully that there was no comparison.

“Joel Do something!”

“In front of her?” Joe unwittingly misunderstood.

“Make her cover herself!”

“That would be sacrilegious! Besides, if she wants to walk around in her birthday suit, I don’t see how I can stop her.”

“But she’s walking around in our room!"

“I am not!” Llona protested. “I haven't budged from this spot since I came in.”

“She hasn’t budged from that spot since she came in,” Joe told Alice, his eyes remaining riveted to the spot under discussion.

“Joe!” Alice wailed. “This is our wedding night!”

“Really?” Llona enthused. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Joe said.

“Many happy returns,” Llona said sincerely.

“The hell you say!” Alice raged. “One wedding night like this one is enough for me, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Llona said.

“For what?” Alice asked.

“You said ‘thank you’,” Llona explained.

“Ooohhh! This is insufferable.”

“You did say ‘thank you’,” Joe said mildly. “I think the lady is only trying to be polite.”

“Yes. I am.” Llona shot him a grateful look.

“Well, I don’t think it’s polite to come barging into our room on our wedding night without any clothes on!”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know it was your wedding night,” Llona said truthfully.

“She really didn't know,” Joe echoed. “How could she?”

“And besides,” Llona pointed out, “I’m no more naked than you are.”

“That’s true,” Joe said judiciously.

“It’s not true. Just the shameless way she's built makes her look ten times more naked than I am. Look at her!”

“I am looking,” Joe admitted.

“Well, stop looking!"

“But you just said to look."

“That’s true.” Llona took Joe’s part. “You did tell him to look.”

“Well, now I’m telling him to stop looking! And I'm telling you to get out of here! And if you don’t do what I say immediately, I’m going to get out of here myself.”

“Alice,” Joe said sincerely, continuing to scan Llona, “I’ll miss you.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Llona said earnestly. “You don’t want to leave your husband alone with a naked woman on your wedding night. That’s not playing the game.”

“Not playing the-— Ooohh! That did it!” Alice bounded over to the door, yanked it open, stormed out, and slammed it behind her.

Joe’s expression didn’t change. He was still looking at Llona with the expression of a hungry waif whose nose is pressed against the bakery shop window.

“Your wife has left.” Llona spelled it out for him.

“So she has.”

“And we’re alone.”

“So we are.”

“It doesn’t seem right on your wedding night.”

“So who cares?”

“Now that’s no attitude to take,” Llona told him sternly. “Aren’t you concerned about her? I mean, she didn’t take any clothes or anything. Where will she go? What will she do?”

“I don’t know. Where did you go‘? What did you do? You’ve been running around in the buff all night.”

“Well, that's sort of different.”

“Different how?” Joe wanted to know.

“lt’s along story.”

“I’ve got plenty of time. Come on over here and sit down and tell me about it.” Joe patted the side of the bed.

“Well, all right.” Llona perched on the spot he had indicated and started to explain how she’d gotten into her predicament.

She hadn't gotten very far when there was the noise of a commotion outside and a sudden loud banging on the door. “Mr. Barker,” a voice called authoritatively. Llona recognized the voice. It had been pursuing her all night. It was the voice of the hotel detective.

She shot Joe a pleading look, crossed quickly to the closet, and hid inside it. Joe waited until she was out of sight and then opened the door to the room. The hotel detective barged in, pushing Alice in front of him. He had her arm twisted behind her back and was holding her in a firm grip.

“Joe!” Alice wailed. “Tell him who I am! Tell him I'm your wife!”

“She’s my wife,” Joe told the detective obediently.

“Yeah?” The detective was skeptical.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t suppose you can prove that.” The detective was openly scoffing.

“As it happens, I can.” Joe walked over to their suitcase and took out their wedding license. “We just got married today. See, the ink’s hardly dry.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” The detective scratched his head. “Okay, so you’re really married,” he said after a moment. “But even so,” he added sternly, “that's no excuse for your wife running around this hotel naked all night.”

“I haven’t been running around naked all night,” Alice sobbed. “I tried to tell you, I just left this room for the first time.”

“Then how come I spotted you popping in and out of rooms the past three-four hours?” ‘

“That wasn’t me!” Alice insisted. “Joe, tell him!”

“It wasn’t her.” Joe told him.

“Then how do you explain me nabbing her naked in the corridor outside just now?”

“That was the first time,” Joe said. “The woman you law before wasn’t my wife.”

“You trying to tell me there’s two naked broads running around this hotel?”

“Well, there is another one. I know because she was in here.”

“What a night!” The detective held his head and squeezed the temples for a moment. “Okay. If she was in here, where’d she go?”

“She ran out right after my wife left.”

“What did you want her in here for in the first place? Ain’t one naked girl enough for you?”

“I’m starting a collection,” Joe told him sarcastically.

“Oh, a wise guy, hey! Well, I’m going to get to the bottom-”

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. Joe answered it. He listened a minute. “It’s for you.” He handed the receiver to the detective.

“Yeah?” The detective’s face grew grave at what he heard. “Okay. I’Il be right there.” He hung up. “A suicide,” he mused aloud. “What a night! I gotta go. But I’ll be back. I’m not through with you two yet. Meanwhile, lady, if you want to run around this hotel, you put some duds on first.” The door closed behind him.

“Where is she?” Alice demanded immediately. “I know she's still here. I was right outside. I would have seen her if she left.”

“In the closet,” Joe admitted.

Alice yanked open the closet door. “Come on 'out of there!” she commanded.

Llona came out. “I’m so happy you came back,” she said. “You really shouldn’t quarrel with your husband on your wedding night. It gets things off to a bad start.”

“So now you’re a marriage counselor,” Alice observed. “Well, do me a favor, will you? Keep your advice to yourself.” ‘

“If you’re going to be nasty,” Llona said haughtily, “I’ll leave.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“No hurry,” Joe interjected.

“Joe!”

“All right,” Joe sighed. “I guess maybe you had better go,” he advised Llona.

“Despite your inhospitality, allow me to wish you a happy wedding night,” Llona said as she closed the door behind her. There was a crash as Alice hurled some heavy and breakable object after her.

“Alice,” Joe said, looking at his wife’s naked figure and sighing with the fresh, remembrance of the voluptuous body which had just departed. “Alice, you really ought to put some clothes on.”

Llona heard the second crash as she entered the stairwell. As she started up the stairs, she heard the sound of footsteps coming down. She reversed her direction and ran down to the floor below.

She hesitated for a moment in the hallway. It was a moment too long. The hotel man in the cutaway spotted her and came tut-tutting up at a trot. “I thought I told you to stay in there,” he clucked disapprovingly. “Come now, this party must be confined to the suite. The reputation of the Hotel Marlowe demands it. Back inside, now. Back-back-back.” He made a broom of his hands and swept Llona towards the door. She entered and he closed it firmly behind her.

The main room was dimly lit and half empty now. Stretched out on the couch with the redhead, Rooney saw Llona standing there. But drink had fogged his mind and he didn’t remember her. “Yer too late, girlie,” he told her. “We already had da bit wit’ da cake. Once is enough.”

“I’m not—-” Llona started to say.

“Well, hang aroun’ if ya want to, but not in here. Go on inside. Maybe one a da boys ‘ll take you on.” Rooney pointed to one of the doors leading off the main room.

Llona shrugged and walked into the chamber he’d indicated. It was also dimly lit. A blonde was jackknifed over a chair with her hands and feet tied by leather thongs. Llona didn’t remember seeing the girl before. Maybe she was the girl who’d come with the cake, she guessed.

But Llona knew the man. It was Archie. He peered myopically at her through the gloom. Like Rooney, he was obviously too stoned to recognize her. And besides, his mind was on something else.

It was on what he was doing. As Llona had entered, he’d just flicked a long whip back over his shoulder. Now, with only the most casual of glances at her, he snapped the whip forward.

“Ouch!” she cried. “Ahh! That was a good one!”

“Ooh!” The cry escaped Llona’s lips inadvertently. “Didn’t that hurt?” she asked before she stopped to think.

“Sure it hurt. That’s the idea,” the girl replied. “Hey, what do you want in here, anyway?” she added.

“She come ta get her licks. Dincha, girlie?” Archie leered.

“Well, no. I—-”

”Hey.” He squinted. “Ain’t I seen you somewhere before? ”

“No!” Llona said vehemently.

“Ya sure look familiar.”

“People are always telling me that. I’m always being mistaken for somebody else,” she said desperately. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“It ain’t yer face I’m talkin’ about.” He peered at her breasts. “Turn around!” he commanded.

Afraid, Llona did as he wanted.

He walked over to her and bent over to peer at her derriere. “I’m sure I know ya,” he insisted. “I never forget a rump. Besides, ya got some marks on ya that look like my brand.”

“Say, what is this?” the blonde strapped to the chair wanted to know. “This is my trick. What’s the big idea of walking in here naked like this and trying to take over?”

“I wasn’t—” Llona tried to explain.

“The hell you wasn’t!” The blonde was getting really angry now. “Sashaying in here with your bust bouncing like this. That’s unfair competish. That’s what it is. You ought to be ashamed. Why, I’ll bet you ain’t even a pro!”

“I am so!” Llona said indignantly.

“That’s the trouble.” The blonde ignored the protest. “Amateurs are ruining the business. Every damn little college girl is giving it away. How’s a girl supposed to make a living?”

“Whatcha wanna begrudge dis doll her licks for?” Archie asked, wetting his lips. “I don’t mind whoppin’ both of ya.”

“It ain’t fair, that’s why. She’s got no business here. You untie me and I’ll teach her a lesson. Come on, untie me! I’ll scratch her eyes out.”

“Yeah?” Archie looked interested. “Okay. Let’s see which one a you is da better girl.” He crossed back to the blonde and began loosing her bonds.

“Never mind,” Llona said hastily. “You win. I was just leaving.” She shot out the door, across the main room, and out into the hallway again.

Rattled, she ran up the stairs to the floor on which Lansing’s room was. However, by now the number had vanished completely from her head. Growing more distraught, she paused just outside the door and looked at the number. Was this it? Somehow, it looked familiar. She entered.

Richie Munroe was the first to react. “She’s back!” he screeched.

“Yeah!” Cliff ogled her appreciatively.

“Keep away from my son,” Mama said threateningly, interposing her bulk between Llona and Richie.

“The boy’s that good, hey?” Poppa’s hopes revived with Llona’s reappearance. “Well, listen, he didn’t get that from his mother, you know.”

“Whoops!” Llona said. “Wrong room.”

“That’s what you said before,” Poppa reminded her. “And I still don’t believe you.”

“It’s Fate drew you back here,” Cliff crooned.

“Clifford!” Richie howled.

“Richie,” Mama soothed him. “Let them go together. They deserve each other. I don’t want you to room with this musician any more. He’s a bad influence.”

“Your Mama’s right, Richie,” Cliff told him. “I’m a bad influence. You go along with her now so I don’t corrupt you any more.”

“Clifford!” Richie wailed pleadingly as his mother pulled him out of the room.

“Well, here we are.” Cliff leered at Llona.

“Here we are,” she agreed.

“Yes, here we are,” Poppa echoed.

“What are you doing still here?” Cliff asked, noticing him. “Why don’t you go along with the rest of the family?”

“I’m not much of a family man, I guess,” Poppa admitted. “It looked like there was more action here.”

“Well, you can just find your action somewhere else!” Cliff told him. “This is my room and I’m going to be busy. Very busy!”

“This is also my son’s room. And don’t be that way. Come on. Have a cigar.”

“I don’t want a cigar. I want you to leave.”

“And I want to stay.” Poppa pulled out his wallet. “I want to stay very much.”

“I see,” Cliff said. “Generosity runs in the family. I see. Well now --”

“Excuse, me, Llona interrupted. “But while you boys are ironing things out, is it all right if I use the bathroom?”

“You just used the bathroom before,” Poppa reminded her.

“Weak kidneys,” she explained. Llona crossed over to the bathroom, let herself in, and relieved her discomfort. When she was done, without planning to, she let herself out the door opposite the one by which she'd entered.

The room was dark. But the light went on as Llona was crossing it. She scurried through the door.

Behind her, trembling fingers picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “Dr. Hertzheimer,” the voice said shakily. “HELP!” the voice screamed.

The scream spurred Llona to race down the hall and into another room. The room was empty. It looked familiar. More distraught than ever now, Llona’s mind began playing tricks on her. She wondered if this was the room adjoining Lansing’s. She crossed through the bathroom and into the room next door.

Nick Dawes had just set Elmer Pframmis up for the con again. He’d raised, Elmer had raised, and now it was back to Nick again when he looked up and saw the nude for the second time that night. “Oh, no!" Nick hadn't meant to speak aloud, but he did.

“She’s back!” Manny Warden exclaimed, wondering what his wife would have to say about this if she ever knew, which she wouldn't.

“Are you fellas gonna play cards?” Elmer Pframmis was very annoyed at these interruptions occurring during the only good hands he’d had all night.

“That is one fine figure of a woman!" Irv Jones decided, his eyes glittering.

“Look, miss,” Nick Dawes said, “this is a private game.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t play poker, anyway. I was just—”

“You sure look like you played poker,” Manny interrupted. “You look like you lost. You look like you had a bad night. A very bad night.”

“Now why can’t I ever get in a game like that?” Irv cackled. “That’s my kind of game.”

“You’re too old,” Llona told him, not unkindly.

“I’ll show you who’s too old, young lady!” Irv sprang to his feet, upsetting the table. Once again cards and chips went flying every which way.

“Damn!” Nick howled.

“That was my pot!” Elmer protested. “And this is the second time!”

“I’m sorry,” Llona said, backing away from Irv. “I’m sorry!” She turned and fled from the room, barely escaping Irv’s outstretched pinching fingers.

“I think I’ve had enough poker for tonight,” Manny said, feeling a sudden desire. “I’m going to get home to the wife."

“And I’m going to find me a brothel,” Irv cackled.

“But don’t you fellows want to play cards any more?” Elmer asked, close to tears.

“Not tonight, Elmer.” Nick patted his shoulder. “But don’t worry. We’ll play another time.” And next time, he promised himself, I'm going to lock both doors so no naked broad fouls up the fix. Nick thought of all the nights he’d spent in this room alone. No bare-bottomed babe had come bouncing in those nights. Why the hell did she have to pick his poker night, anyway?

The cause of Nick’s mixed feelings was once again wandering the hallways looking for Lansing’s room so that she might retrieve her clothes. Passing an open door, she overheard voices. She shrank back against the wall outside and listened a moment.

“Why’d you push her?” It was the hotel detective speaking.

“I didn’t push her!” Al Wainwright’s voice. Indignant.

“Then why’d she jump?”

“She didn’t jump. I told you, she fell. It was an accident.”

“Were you her lover?”

“Well, no. That is, not yet.”

“But you had ambitions along those lines.”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“But she didn’t want to and you tried to force things and she fought you off and you pushed her out the window. Right?”

“Wrong. I told you, this other girl came in and --”

“The nude?”

“Yes.”

“That nude!” The hotel detective’s voice was vehement. “If I ever get my hands on her! She’s turned this whole damn hotel topsy-turvy. I just wish I had her here right now. I’d—”

Llona didn’t wait to hear what he’d do. She tiptoed past the door and jogged down the hall again. She pulled up in front of yet another door. 507. Llona wasn’t sure, but she was too tired to ponder whether or not she was again remembering the number wrongly. She took a deep breath, turned the knob, and went into the room.

“You came back!” Herbert Lansing put down the half-empty bottle of scotch he’d been suckling and held out his arms to Llona.

She went into them.

Chapter Eleven

Ever since the hotel detective had left, Herbert Lansing had been brooding. Only to me, he told himself, could this have happened. Only I could start out with an armful of luscious call girl and end up with nothing but a bellyful of unsatisfied lust and a pile of empty female clothes.

It figures, he told himself. It was the way it always worked out for him. Starting with getting his braces tangled when he was fourteen years old and right through that back-breaking Yoga bit with the chick in the village; yes, and right through tonight’s fiasco, too; Herbert Lansing told himself moodily that Fate had him marked for a perrenial strike-out king in the sex department.

The brooding depressed him, and this in turn prompted him to break open the bottle of scotch. The more he drank, the more hopeless it all seemed, but that didn’t stop him from drinking. He was really at a low ebb when the door burst open and Llona returned.

And now she was in his arms. He couldn’t believe it. This kind of luck was just too far out of character for him. Still, here she was, and a resurgence of hope filled Herbert’s breast.

“Boy, have I ever been hoping you'd come back," he told her.

“I had to come back for my clothes.” She made a feeble attempt at extricating herself from his embrace.

“Just for your clothes?” Apprehension tinged Herbert’s enthusiasm once again. “Not to finish what we started?”

“I don’t know,” she demurred. “It’s been such a hectic night.”

“But you can’t just leave now. Not before --”

“Maybe another time,” Llona suggested.

“Please.”

“No. Really, I—”

“And I thought you were a pro,” Herbert said bitterly.

“Well, I am.” Llona was stung.

“A pro wouldn't walk out on a client in need.”

“No. I guess not. Is your need really that great?”

“Mammoth.”

“Let me see, Mmm. You really are suffering, aren’t you?”

“Terribly,” Herbert said earnestly. “It’s really just throbbing with anguish.”

“I can see that,” Llona cooed. “You need immediate treatment.”

“It’s urgent.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to do something about it.” Llona stroked the subject under discussion soothingly.

“Then you're not going to leave me in the lurch?”

“No. I have to live up to the ethics of my profession.”

Llona squared her shoulders and held her head high. “In rain, or snow, or sleet, or hail,” she paraphrased, “we deliver for the U. S. male.”

“A very laudible motto,” Herbert observed, tentatively kissing the little pulse at the base of her neck.

“I try to live up to it,” Llona murmured modestly. “But sometimes it isn’t easy. Like tonight, for instance.”

“You poor kid. It has been a rough night for you, hasn’t it?” Herbert stroked her flanks comfortingly.

“Considering that it’s my first night on the job, it sure has been rough,” Llona sighed. “I sure hope every night isn’t going to be like this one.”

“Oh, I’m sure they won’t be. You just got off to a bad start.” .

“I hope you’re right. If I thought they’d all be like tonight, I think I’d just as soon forget the whole thing and stay a virgin.”

Momentarily, Herbert wondered why she had to go and bring that up again. It was ridiculous, of course. And it seemed kind of insulting that she’d think him jerk enough to believe it. “Look,” he told her, “you don’t have to say that. One virgin in this little orgy of ours is enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I really am a virgin,” Herbert admitted. “So I really don’t find it appealing that you should try to convince me that you are. I mean, some men might. I can see that. But not me. I’d rather have a girl with some experience. In my case, that would be much more desirable. So you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I’m not pretending.” .

“Oh, come on, now.” Herbert was so annoyed that he stopped biting her left ear lobe.

“I mean it. This is really my first time.”

“You mean it’s your first night as a pro,” Herbert said hopefully. “But surely you’ve had some—umm—amateur experience.”

“Not all the way.” Llona looked demurely at the floor.

“You're kidding. You’re putting me on.”

“No. I mean it. You’re my first lover. On or off the job, this is really my first time.”

Herbert looked at her for a long moment. Slowly, he found himself believing her. And with the belief came a reluctance to continue the foreplay upon which he'd so eagerly embarked. “You really are just a kid, aren’t you?” he said slowly.

“I guess so.”

“And this really is your first time with a man?”

“Yes, it is.”

“But why do you want to prostitute yourself?” Herbert asked.

“Why not? I don’t want to go through my whole life without living it. And besides, I need the money.”

“Economic necessity! I see! That’s what’s forced you into this life of shame.”

“I’m not ashamed at all. I want to do what I’m doing.”

“You poor child. You don’t know what you’re saying. What kind of life is it that you’re embarking upon? Have you stopped to ask yourself that? Letting yourself be pawed by all kinds of men-!”

“But I like being pawed.”

“Nonsense. Selling your body to anybody willing to pay the price—!”

“It’s the only thing I have to sell. And you’re a fine one to talk. You’re ready to buy it. Aren’t you?”

“Not any more I’m not,” Herbert told her firmly. “I’m not going to be the one to initiate your downfall. Hard up as I am, I could never live with myself if I did that.”

“Oh!” Llona pouted. “You sound just like my father. I didn’t come here to listen to you moralize. I could have stayed home and gotten a bellyful of that.”

“And that’s where you should go. Home. It’s not too late. You can still have a decent life.”

“But I don’t want a decent life!” Llona was quite vexed now. “I want an exciting life. And right now I want a man!”

“Well, it isn’t going to be me!”

“Oh, no?” Llona stretched out on the bed provocatively.

“No!”

“Are you sure?” She bent one leg at the knee and moved it back and forth tantalizingly.

“No . . .”

“You’re really determined not to go through with it, are you?” She cupped her naked breasts in her hands and looked at him invitingly.

“No . . . I mean yes . . . I mean, I’m definitely not going to deflower . . .”

“All right. I can see you’re a man of principle.” Llona rotated her hips provocatively. “But why are you way over on the other side of the room? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then come sit down here by me.” Llona patted the side of the bed alongside her plump, quivering derriere.

“All right.” Herbert perched gingerly beside her.

“I’m cold,” Llona complained.

“Cold? That’s silly. It’s a very warm night.”

“I don’t care. I’m cold.” Llona hugged her breasts so that the bright red nipples peeped enticingly out of the crook of her elbows.

“I’ll close the windows.” Herbert started to get up.

“No. Don’t do that. We need fresh air. It’s very important for health reasons.”

“Oh, sure.” Herbert settled down again.

“But I am cold.”

“I’ll get you a blanket.”

“I don’t want a blanket. Couldn’t you just put your arms around me?”

“I don’t really think I should—”

“Oh, come on. We were much more intimate than that just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. Just put your arms around me for therapeutic reasons.”

“Well, all right. For therapeutic reasons.” Herbert pulled Llona to a sitting position and put his arms around her. “There. Does that help?”

“Oh, yes.” Llona wriggled so that her naked breasts were crushed against his chest. “But couldn’t we lie down? I've been running around all night and I’m so tired.”

“I guess so.” Herbert stretched out beside her. “Is this okay?”

“That’s fine,” Llona murmured, arching her back so that her warm belly was pressed solidly against him.

“No funny business now,” Herbert cautioned. “I mean it.”

“Of course not.” She breathed the words hotly into his ear. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Once my mind is made up on a moral question, it’s made up.”

“I know.” Llona began to grind her body against his. “I can tell. You’re a man of iron.”

“I don’t think you should do that,” Herbert said, making no effort whatsoever to stop her.

“There’s no harm.” She took his hand and put it on her breast, pressing it tightly so that the crest nestled in the palm.

“Why did you do that?” Herbert asked.

“It’s cold.”

“It doesn’t feel cold.”

“Maybe not to you. It feels cold to me.”

“It really feels very warm to me.” Herbert tried to pull his hand away.

“But it’s not. Look.” She pulled his head down to her breast. “See?” She shoved his face up against the spreading roseate encircling the breast-tip. “Goose pimples.”

“Well, yes—-” Herbert’s words were cut off as she maneuvered his lips against the target.

“Ahhh!” Llona sighed, her hand stroking his thigh. “That feels so good. Hey! Don’t stop.”

“I have to stop for a minute,” Herbert explained. “Sinus trouble. I have difliculty breathing through my nose.”

“Then take a deep breath. I feel another chill again.”

“All right.” Herbert inhaled deeply and then closed his lips over the taut bull’s-eye again.

Llona’s hand crept inside the waistband of the pajama pants he was wearing. She caressed his belly, letting her hand drift farther and farther downward. Finally she made the hand into a fist and grasped him. “Yes, a man of iron,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t control my physical reaction with you so close and all. But I assure you that my will power remains staunch.”

“Of course it does.” She stroked him slowly. “And don’t apologize. Believe me, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” She kept stroking. “Do you like this?” she purred.

“Yes. Yes, I do. But remember, I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“Of course you’re not. You’re a real gentleman. A gentleman of principle.” She took his hand and guided it down her belly. “But one good turn deserves another,” she murmured.

“Well-— Do you think I should-—-?”

“Oh, yes. I think so . . . Yes, you should . . . That’s it! Right there! . . . Oh, you’re doing fine! . . . Just fine! . . . Fine-fine-fine!” Llona writhed, her body clutching at his moving fingers.

“Well, I guess this is all right. As long as we don’t go all the way.” Herbert began to bounce as the pressure of L1ona’s fist around him grew greater.

“Of course not. We won’t go all the way,” Llona panted. "We’ll just play with each other a little. There’s no harm in that.” She wriggled her legs farther. apart and pressed down on the back of his fingers to increase the pressure.

“No harm at all,” Herbert agreed enthusiastically. “Say, these things are sort of getting in the way, aren’t they?” He looked down at his pajama pants.

“They certainly are.”

“Well, why don’t I just take them off, then? No harm in that.”

“Certainly not,” Llona agreed. “It’s very considerate of you.”

“Oh, that’s all right. They were binding me, anyway. It was getting sort of uncomfortable.” Herbert yanked off the pajama pants and tossed them carelessly across the room.

“My, you certainly are quite a man.” Llona stared down at him admiringly.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Herbert said modestly. “But thanks anyway.”

“Oh, it’s not nothing. It’s quite something!” Llona assured

“Well, I guess all these years of celibacy—” Herbert paused embarrassedly.

“Are going to make some lucky girl awfully happy.” Llona finished the sentence for him. “Oh, look, it’s still throbbing,” she observed solicitously. “Does it bother you?”

“Well, it sort of aches a little. But it’s not unpleasant.”

“Shall I kiss it and make it better?”

“Be my guest.”

Llona suited the action to the words, and Herbert reacted violently. He felt as if he was about to go out of his skull as her lips encircled him. He grabbed her head and pushed it down until her mouth almost enveloped him.

“Hey!” Llona came up sputtering. “Not so rough! You want me to choke?”

“Don’t stop!” In his frenzy, Herbert grabbed her by the ears.

“Now cut that out! Stop, I tell you! If you don’t take it easy, I’ll bite! I’m warning you! I’ll bite!” She nipped gently to show him she meant it.

“Ouch! All right. I’m sorry. Just go ahead. I won’t get rough. I promise you.”

Llona resumed, but as soon as he showed signs of being ready to culminate matters, she paused again.

“What’s the matter?” Herbert demanded.

“Not this way,” she told him. “I’m damned if I’ll settle for this. I want to be made love to. I’m not going to let you leave me all hung up.”

“I won’t,” Herbert promised. “I’ll see that you get yours.” He began moving his fingers rapidly to show her he meant it.

“Not that way.” She pushed his hand away. “I want you to make love to me. I want you to make love to me with your— Well, you know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Herbert said. “Okay.” He scrambled over her.

“Now! At last! After all these years!”

“A will of iron,” Llona murmured and giggled.

“The hell with that noise. I’ve waited too long to stop now.”

“I’ve waited all my life,” Llona sighed. “Do it!” she urged him. “Do it now! Now-now-now!”

Herbert rose up in the air and poised for an instant, savoring her eagerness before he plunged downward, savoring her passion before their bodies became one. Then he moved, starting the swooping stab, aiming truly for the quivering, waiting mark.

But it was too late. He shouldn’t have hesitated. Just as Herbert moved to finalize their love-making, there was aloud banging at the door to the room.

“Oh, no!” Herbert agonized. “Not again!”

“Damn!” Llona groaned. “Damn-damn-damn!”

“Open up in there!” It was the voice of the house detective. “I know she’s there! I know she came back. Come on! Open up!”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Llona said, pushing Herbert off her.

“But how? He’s got us trapped this time.”

“Through the bathroom,” Llona suggested desperately.

“That would never work. He’s wise to it from the last time. It’s the first place he’d look, and he’d catch you before you got out the other door.”

“Come on! I can hear you. I’ve got you this time. Open up!” The pounding on the door grew louder.

“The closet!” Herbert suggested. “Maybe you can hide in the closet.”

“That worked once,” Llona said. “But I don’t think he’d fall for it again.”

“Come on! I’ve got you! I’ll teach you to run around this hotel naked.” He was hitting the door so hard now that it sounded as if he might well cave it in.

“Oh, what am I going to do?” Llona wailed. She ran around the room frantically, finally stopping to look out the window. “That’s it!” she said.

“What’s what?” Herbert asked, distraught.

“There’s a fire escape out here. It’s the only way. Quick, hand me my clothes.”

Herbert did as Llona suggested. Quickly, she climbed over the windowsill and out onto the fire escape. There was a ladder running down from it. Llona quickly climbed down it. She kept climbing until she’d reached the floor just above street level.

Here she paused to catch her breath. She put down the clothes she was carrying and perched on the fire escape for a moment. She was just congratulating herself on making her escape when the voices reached her from below.

“Hey, what’s that?” the first voice asked.

“I’ll be damned. It’s a dame,” a second voice replied.

“She’s naked,” the first voice observed.

“A naked dame‘? Where?” It was a third voice, male.

“Up there on the fire escape.”

“Oh. Yeah. Wow!”

“Disgraceful!” A female voice had joined the chorus.

“Yeah, ain’t it?” The new male voice didn’t sound as if its owner thought it was disgraceful at all.

“Someone should call the police!”

Llona looked down at the mounting crowd. Their staring faces seemed to immobilize her. It was as if in the spotlight of their gazes the events of the night crowded in on her and rendered her incapable of movement.

So she simply stood there, naked, unable to move, and stared down as the crowd grew larger.

Chapter Twelve

A SIREN sounded in the distance. The hubbub of the crowd grew louder. Suddenly, added to it, there was the distinct sound of a shout from the facade of the building above Llona.

“There she is. I’m going after her.”

It was the hotel detective. He clamored and clambered out onto the fire escape and started down. He kept shouting as he came.

The sound of his voice, familiar and dreaded, spurred Llona out of her trance. Quickly, she pulled on her clothes. The siren was closer now. So was the hotel detective. And the shout from the crowd was a mingling of disappointment and approval as Llona covered her nudity.

She scrambled down the last ladder to the ground. The crowd surged toward her. A police car screeched to a halt a short distance away. Two policemen sprang out and ran toward Llona. The hotel detective was half sliding down the rungs of the fire escape in his hurry to catch her.

Llona glanced around frantically. There was an alley entrance a few steps to her left. She dived into it and kept running. Behind her, the crowd converged on the alley, blocking the way of the policemen and the hotel detective. By the time they’d made their way through the crowd, Llona had run out the other end of the alley.

She ran a little farther, turned into a main street, slowed down, and lost herself in the late night throng. After a while, she stopped panting, sure now that she'd thrown off her pursuers. But what now?

Llona wandered a long time as she tried to figure a course of action. Finally, she came to a conclusion. She just wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. Herbert Lansing had been right, but not for the reason he’d propounded, not because Llona’s virginity was something to be treasured and protected. No, it was simply that Llona’s nerves couldn’t take it. The life of a professional call girl was simply too rough for this simple lass from the hinterlands.

Having decided, Llona went into an all-night drug store, found an empty phone booth and called Mrs. Cartwright to inform her of her decision. “Mrs. Cartwright,” she said when she had her on the other end of the wire, “this is Llona Mayper. I’m calling to tell you that I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to leave your employ.”

“What’s the matter? Did something go wrong tonight?”

“Did something go right?” Llona countered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes,” Llona told her. “Something went wrong. Everything went wrong.”

“Well, don’t do anything hasty,” Mrs. Cartwright said soothingly. “Tell me about it.”

Llona told her about it. In detail. Her tale of woe was punctuated by the periodic clink of nickels being dropped into the coin box to comply with the nasal request of the operator. When she was finally finished, Mrs. Cartwright had one immediate question.

“Did you collect from the client?” she wanted to know. She asked the question in a crisp, businesslike tone of voice.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Mrs. Cartwright’s voice was very hard now.

“Because I didn’t do anything to collect for.”

“Nonsense. You always collect first. That’s a cardinal rule of this business. Collect first. That way, if something goes wrong, as it did tonight, you’re ahead of the game. After all, you can always give the client a raincheck.”

“Well, I didn’t know,” Llona said. “So I didn’t collect.”

“I see. Then you’ll have to learn from the experience. Experience is, I suppose, the best teacher. Tonight’s fee will be deducted from your future wages.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cartwright. There won’t be any future wages. I told you, I’m quitting.”

“My dear, you don’t seem to appreciate your situation. I’m afraid the organization simply wouldn’t hear of your quitting. They already have a considerable investment in you.”

“But I don’t want to do this sort of work any more.”

“I’m afraid that what you want or don’t want at this point is of no consequence. You’ll simply have to continue on the job until your indebtedness—plus interest, of course--is paid back.”

“But that’s white slavery!”

“Don’t be dramatic, my dear. It’s nothing of the sort. I’m simply holding you to our business arrangement.”

“Suppose I won’t do it?”

“I wouldn’t even think thing like that, my dear. It could be—umm—disastrous. You’re a pretty girl. You’re a young girl. Don’t jeopardize your chance of staying pretty and of growing older. The organization is very impersonal, you see. If you persisted in your recalcitrance, retribution would be automatic.”

“I see.” Llona thought desperately for a moment. “Look, Mrs. Cartwright, if I’m forced to continue on the job, then I’ll be doing it unwillingly. Now, that won’t make me very good at my work. Don’t you agree?”

“There’s a certain amount of logic to what you say. But—”

“Wait. Hear me out. Now, suppose I admit that I owe you money and I’m willing to pay it back—the interest you mentioned included. Couldn’t the organization perhaps arrange for me to work at some other sort of job until they’re paid off?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Wouldn’t that be better for all concerned?” Llona persisted, encouraged by Mrs. Cartwright’s cautious agreement.

“It might be. Let me talk to them about it. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Llona said fervently. “And good-bye.”

“Good-bye.” Mrs. Cartwright hung up.

A few days later Llona heard from her for the last time. It had been arranged for Llona to work as a waitress in a diner. Half of her salary and tips would be deducted each week until her indebtedness was paid.

Thus Llona once again managed to salvage her virtue. It took her three months to pay what she owed. At the end of that time, Llona was promptly fired.

It had taken every bit of the halt-salary Llona earned during that three-month‘ period just to live. She hadn’t been able to save a penny. She tried to find another job without success. After a week of looking, she had to face the fact that her resources were drained. She couldn’t even afford to pay the rent for another week on the small room she’d taken in a cheap lodging house. There was only one thing to do, and she did it. She bought a bus ticket back to Birchville.

Home hadn’t changed. The town was still the ugly, sprawling prairie village it had been for the past sixty years. Progress had passed Birchville by, and it looked it. Llona viewed it with distaste as she lugged her suitcase from the bus station to her parents’ home.

Her mother was weepily delighted to see Llona. But the delight was tinged with apprehension over how Llona’s father would greet his runaway daughter’s return. That evening, when he got home from work, mother and daughter had their first chance to judge his attitude.

“So you’re back,” he said, as laconic as ever.

“I’m back.” Llona granted the obvious.

“Are you ruin’t?” He asked the question uppermost in his mind.

“No, Pa. ”

“How do I know you’re not a-lying to me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“I reckon so.” He sighed. “Anyways, I heard today where they’re lookin’ for a girl down to the Five-and-Dime. You go down there tomorrow, I s’pect they’ll give you your old job back.”

“All right, Pa. I’ll go down first thing in the morning.”

“You do that, Llona. A bit o’ work ’ll keep you out of trouble ’til you get married and settle down. I sure wish you’d hurry up and do that, though. You coulda done it afore, if you hadn’t run off.”

“I’m sorry, Pa.”

“Yeah. Well, what’s past is past and best forgot.”

That was the only reference he made to the incident with George Rutherford, and Llona was relieved. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about George, but she was sure that she didn’t want any man to marry her because her father forced him to do it. That hadn’t changed.

A week or so later she had her first opportunity to consider her feelings about George. He came into the Five-and-Dime, welcomed her home, and asked her to go out with him that evening. Discreetly, Llona arranged to meet him at the movie theatre. She didn’t mention the date at home. She didn’t know how her father might react. But she didn’t want to take any chances, either.

After the movies, George drove his Volkswagen to the outskirts of town and parked there He doused his lights and turned to take Llona in his arms. Soon, he was playing with her right ear and nibbling her left ear. A moment later his hand was down the front of her blouse, playing with her left breast. George, Llona reflected, hadn’t changed his technique one whit.

Still, Llona didn’t mind it at all. There was something warm and reassuring about the way George petted with her. It was nice--safe and secure—to know what to expect from a man. And now that she was able to relax with it, Llona found his caresses every bit as stimulating as they had been the first time he’d attempted them, when they’d both been back in high school.

“George,” she asked when they were driving back home, “are you still a virgin?”

“Now, that’s a hell of a question to ask a man, Llona!”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that the last time It saw you -- that night my father caught us—you admitted to me that you were.”

"I was just funning you.”

“Were you, George?” Somehow Llona didn’t believe him.

“Sure I was.”

“Then you've had a woman?”

“Shucks, of course I have. Lots of ’em.”

“George, that’s just the way you used to act. But then you told me it wasn’t true. Were you lying then, or now?”

“No matter what I say, you’re not going to believe me, Llona. I reckon there’s only one way to find out,” he added " meaningfully.

Llona thought about that a while. “I reckon so,” she agreed finally.

“Want to go out again Wednesday night?” George asked as he pulled the car up about half a block down from Llona’s house.

“Let’s make it Thursday instead,” she suggested thoughtfully. “And you can pick me up at the house.”

“Is that smart? Your Daddy’s liable to have a fit.”

“He won’t be home. It’s his bowling night. And Mama will be out at the Ladies’ Auxiliary. We’ll have the house all to ourselves.”

“I see.” George gulped. “I see. Well, I’ll see you Thursday, then.”

“About nine o’clock.”

“About nine. Right. See you then, sugar.”

“See you then, George.” Llona got out of the car and walked the half-block to her parents’ house. As she walked, she was thinking about Thursday, wondering, anticipating. Later, in bed, the anticipation continued and Thursday night became something of an erotic goal to her.

When it finally came, Llona had prepared herself much as she had on a similar night some months before. She’d drenched herself in perfume, worn a low-cut blouse and a tight skirt, turned the lights down low, and put some romantic records on the hi-fi. She was lying on the couch, posing provocatively, when she heard George at the screen door on the porch.

“In here, George,” she called.

He entered the room and stopped to look at her appreciatively. “Well don’t you look yummy,” he observed.

“Thanks. Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Come on over here and sit down.”

George crossed over to the couch and perched beside her. He shot her a shy smile.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?” Llona asked.

George kissed her. Llona wrapped her arms around his neck and held the kiss a long time. While it lasted, she guided his hands over her body, making sure that he appreciated the warmth of her breasts.

He did. When the kiss was over he had hold of both of them—-the right one as well as the left — and he showed no signs of relinquishing his grip.

“Do you like the way I feel, George?” Llona asked softly.

“I sure do.” He squeezed gently and then bent to kiss her neck.

“Wouldn’t you like it even more this way?” Llona pulled the drawstring of her blouse and the material fell away from her breasts.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. George gasped as the large, round orbs sprang into view. He reached for their long, scarlet tips like an underprivileged child grabbing for candy. “Yeah!” he said fervently as they quivered in his hands.

Llona kissed him again, hungrily, her tongue darting between his lips. She pulled her body along the couch until she was sitting on his lap. Her skirt was well up over her knees now, but she made no move to pull it down. Instead, she drew one of George’s hands to her bare thigh.

George found the flesh burning under his touch. Manfully, he inched his hand higher, and Llona’s thighs parted at the movement. When the hand found its mark, her own hand closed over it and held it firmly in place as she writhed passionately.

Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, she scrambled off his lap and knelt on the couch beside him. She bent over and her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his pants. Suddenly, he pushed her hand away and stood up.

“What’s the matter?”

“Wait a minute, Llona.”

“What do you mean? Wait for what?”

“Just wait. Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Don’t you want me, George?” she demanded.

“Sure I want you. Only-—-”

“Only what?”

“Well, the truth is, Llona, that night your father caught us and was gonna make me marry you, I was glad.”

“What do you mean? What’s that got to do with tonight?”

“I mean I still want to marry you. Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Depends on what happened while you was away.” George hung his head.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Everything. I know you never—that is, you was a good girl up until that time. I know it because I’m the only one you would have-—well, you know what I mean. But I don’t know what you might have done while you was in Caldwell.”

“What? Well of all the—! George, how do you dare question what I did? After all those girls you said you had!”

“I never had ’em. I only said that the other night because I figured you got so experienced while you was away. I didn’t want you to think I was an innocent jerk.”

“But you are!”

“Yep. I guess I am.”

“You never had a girl. Is that it, George?”

“Never. That’s it.”

“Then why don’t you take advantage of your chance right now?” Llona wanted to know.

“ ’Cause I want to marry you. Maybe.”

“ ‘Maybe’ meaning if you’re sure I’m a virgin.”

“Yep.” George stared down at the tops of his shoes. “I know it ain’t noble, but that’s the way I feel about it.”

“‘But George,” Llona told him softly. “How are you ever going to know that unless you find out for yourself?”

“You’re right.” He thought about it. “Yeah. You’re right sure enough. If I married you first, then it would be too late if you wasn’t.”

“That’s right. So don’t you think you should find out first?”

“You mean right now?”

“Why not?” Llona shoved him gently back on the couch and began undoing the buttons to his pants again.

A few moments later she was sprawled out on the couch with her skirt pushed up over her waist. George, his pants down around his ankles, was straddling her. “Now, George!” she panted and he moved to comply.

“YOU STOP THAT!” It was a roar from the doorway. Llona’s father stood there, shaking with rage.

George tumbled to the floor.

Llona hastily pulled down her skirt.

“I s’pected you’d be at it again soon as my back was turned,” her father shouted. “So I come home early to see if I was right. An’ I sure was. Only this time you ain’t runnin off, missy. This time you ain’t gettin’ away with it, young feller. This time you two’s gettin’ married!”

Llona had the sensation of living through history repeating itself. Only this time she was a little older and a little smarter. “All right, Pa,” she said. “It’s all right with me if it’s all right with George.”

“It dang well better be all right with George!” her father said grimly.

“As a matter of fact,” George said, “it is.” From the way he spoke it was obvious that he wasn’t saying it because he was intimidated.

“All right, then,” Llona’s father said. “Then it’s wedding bells for you two and the sooner the better. It ain’t safe to leave you walkin’ around single!”

They set the wedding date that night. Less than a month later Llona walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. She walked back up the aisle on George Rutherford’s arm—as his wife.

It was wonderful, and when it was over, she cuddled in her husband’s arms and remembered the silly off-color ditty the girls used to sing back in high school. She hummed it to herself and as she did so she found herself rephrasing the words. The result went like this:

“I ’m glad that I ’m a respectable witch.

I’ll always be poor; I’ll never be rich.

I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll always do right.

’Cause the hardest work is to play all night!”

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven