High School Scandals

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Dallas got home the phone was ringing. It was Shapiro. “Look buddy-you remember what we were talking about today? Well, I want to tell you that we’re getting the state supreme court interested, and I’ve got that line open into the governor’s office.”

In the dark, but playing along, Dallas said, “The Governor?”

“Yeah baby. One of the boys is on his staff, and you know how all us Jews stick together. Now my friend Goldstein on the supreme court bench…”

There was more of the same, until Dallas fully realized what was happening, that Shapiro was putting on the listeners, using the bugged phone against them.

In fact, he was probably scaring hell out of some people, or would be soon as they heard the tapes.

“… and the ACLU is sending another lawyer, if we need him. Of course, I’ll make sure the TV cameras are there top-the whole shtick, you know. Okay baby-hang tight and don’t let the bastards get to you. Chou and shalom.”

“Goodbye,” Dallas said, and listened for the click. Then he hung up the phone and put a cassette on, turning the volume up high, feeling the room vibrate with the bass and knowing what it would do to the microphones.

Whistling, grabbing a quick shower, he padded back into the kitchen in tune to hear the cassette start over. Old terrycloth robe flapping, he mixed himself a long, cold drink.

Taking it into the living room, he sat in the big chair to drink it, and found, himself trying to listen through the pounding of the rock music. He wanted to hear something-a rattle of the back door, a girl’s soft voice, yet be didn’t.

Sol, Sladermann, guys on both sides of the fence had pointed out how dumb it would-be to play around with underage kids while all, the other nonsense was going on. He knew it himself, but he hadn’t made any attempt to cut it off.

Sooner or later he was going to get himself nailed to a wall because he was so horny for that beautiful young ass. And it sure as hell wasn’t because he was hard up. He had been fucking himself silly every night. Was Kathy coming tonight? She’d said so, and the kid didn’t lie; she didn’t believe in lying.

She believed in love and freedom for love, which made her a lot smarter than Dallas and most of his contemporaries.

Finishing his drink, he got up and walked to the kitchen door. The kids had been circling around, coming across the empty lot after it was dark, and using the bushes, the hedges for cover. They would have made pretty good scouts in the jungle, but he was damned glad they’d never have to try that job on for size.

He unlocked the door and went back for a refill, reminding himself that he’d have to lay in another case of beer. He preferred that to bourbon except on festive occasions. He was just dropping fresh ice cubes, into his glass when the door opened and closed all in one swift motion.

She was alone this time, and he wasn’t disappointed. Little Kathy Collins was so lovely; she lighted up the kitchen. He put a finger to his lips in warning, then pointed all around them and to his ear.

Kathy understood immediately that he hadn’t disconnected the bugs, and that they would have to be quiet. Dallas emphasized that by making a button motion at his mouth, and shaking his head. No talking he meant, for he didn’t know if voice would filter through the noise of the music or not.

Taking his arm, she led him into the bedroom pausing to turn down the sound as she did so. They lay on the bed, and he was glad for no squeaking, sounds. She whispered in his ear, “Daddy is furious. I heard him yelling on the phone, calling the defective names. And he was almost as bad when he phoned Mr.

Kingston. He didn’t ask me if I was in the protest this morning, just assumed I wouldn’t be. I don’t feel I’m betraying him or anything. He’s wrong and you’re right.”

She put one small band under his robe and found his balls “Besides,” she purred softly, I don’t dig my daddy the way I do you. But you know it could be my imagination, but I could swear that sometimes my father looks at me like-well, like he wants me.”

Dallas enjoyed the feel of her fingers caressing his soft cock, and knew the slow surging of blood that would soon fatten and stiffen it. He turned his face, breathing his question ever so quietly into her tiny ear as she struggled to, keep from giggling: “Did he ever try anything?”

She shook her head, and they went through the necessary motions of exchanging lips to ear. “No,” Kathy whispered, “but I get the feeling he’d like to. But my daddy is far too straight for anything like that. I don’t know what he does for sex either, unless he jacks off I mean, he doesn’t have any girl friends. Of course, he could be going to some whore, but that would have to be out of town where nobody would recognize him. Wow! Imagine daddy in a whorehouse.”

Kathy choked down a giggle again, and he clamped a hand over her mouth to help.

She clamped down on his prick, making him flinch, then relenting to stroke his hardening shaft. She reached his ear again and said, “Don’t move, don’t wiggle or anything. Just try to make that wonderful cock move inside my cunt, on its own like. I know you can make it jump if you try. But by itself and no squirming around.”

With that, she came out of her clothes and dropped them on the floor beside the bed. Kathy even helped him out of the robe, which was no big effort for either of them. When he lay back, propped on his elbows, she shoved him the rest of the way down so that he was flat on his back.

Then she pushed his legs apart, far apart, but not quite to the position of discomfort. His cock was standing tall as a flagpole by then, and throbbing with impatience. He dug fucking all her friends, but’, somehow Kathy’s pussy was special for him, a treasure of great price.

The overhead light was off and the drapes were drawn over locked windows; not even the little bedlamp was on, but Dallas could see her plainly in the light that fanned through from the living room, and she looked fantastic. Little pools of light played over the delicate curves of her body, touching the points of her nipples with gold, spilling down her flat, girlish belly to gather rubies in the alluring curls of her mound. Her thighs spread, incomparably soft, yet firm to the touch, and she was poised above him again.

“Don’t move,” she ordered him, and he wanted to obey her orders, was happy to gratify her whim, whatever it might be. She was such a jewel, this girl, so passionate and free, giving of herself with great gusto and verve. Briefly he wondered what the marriageable age was in this state. At this enchanted moment, he would marry her in a flash, and keep her close to him.

And her other lovers? As she lowered her richly feathered crotch upon the upright knob of his prick, Dallas wondered about them, but thought he could go along with whatever the girl wanted Then he grinned, realizing that she probably didn’t want to marry him, or anyone else, that Kathy Collins would no doubt continue as a free spirit, putting down all the established institutions.

Her pubic hair touched his cockhead, encompassed it, and the marvelous humid slot came down upon it, stretching itself to take him inside its hot and juicy depths.

Kathy slid down on his shaft, down until his balls were right up against the sweet, warm cleft of her ass. She ground once upon the buried meat, then lowered her upper body and stretched out her legs behind her. She was on top of him, lying perfectly still, but unable to disguise the ragged breathing in her throat.

It was a strange feeling, to force himself to remain motionless while his cock was hilt deep inside that divine pussy, while the head of it pulsed hungrily and the skin of it drank in the love juices surrounding it. Concentrating, Dallas made the head of his prick jump, relaxed the shaft, and forced it to twitch again.

The girl responded through some rippling movement of her inner vagina that somehow fondled his cock. They began to work in timed rhythm, he flexing and waiting for her squeeze. It was slow, but it was sexy, and Dallas heard himself panting, although he battled to keep from grabbing her delectable ass and slamming the meat up into her lascivious little snatch as hard as he could.

Kathy clamped down on his prick, let go and shut down again. He flexed and dropped quiet, twitched and let go, and the beat was getting to them both.

Maybe it was their enforced control, or the very oddness of their action, but Dallas was hot, hot, and the swelling in his balls warned him that it wouldn’t be long. Soon he would come into the girl who lay still on top on him, and he would come without having made a single stroke into her cunt.

Shuddering, Kathy convulsed atop him, and the grip of her magic pussy bit at him, then fell away in trembling movements. He let go a spilt second later, the semen leaping with a rush from the vibrating head of his prick. His fluid was sizzling lava that roared up into the tight volcano of her cunt. Thick and foaming, creamy and bubbling, his come filled her, packed her vagina, and his exultant cock wallowed in its greasy juice.

Small, exotic spasms passed through the girl’s pussy, moved over her tits so that they rubbed nipples into his belly, crossed to her shoulders and piled into the back of her neck, so that her head flung back and Dallas sensed, the titanic struggle the girl, was waging, in order not to scream out her orgasm.

But she won the battle, and slowly the great tension went out of her; her cunt relaxed, and some of his semen oozed out through her loosened labia to soak warmly upon his balls It had been probably the weirdest, the damnedest piece of ass that Dallas Bradburn had ever had.

Some long, drifting time later, when the tape player had gone through its only cassette for perhaps the twentieth tune, Kathy moved. Inch by regretful inch, she slid up his body easing his cock from the lingering hold of her cunt and drawing that softly haired little mound up his belly.

Reaching his throat with her mouth, she nibbled there for awhile, then made it to his waiting ear. “Lover man, that was the greatest.”

He patted her shoulder in reply because he didn’t trust his voice that much.

Hot waves of his climax were only now subsiding in him, seeping down into his lower groin. He wasn’t sure his prick would ever go soft, and had a flash of himself teaching class with a permanent hard-on, frying to hide it from the kids and hearing the sniggering.

And he heard something else,, the monotonous repetition of the tape deck.

Roberta F. was a living wonder, but not over and over again. The bugs, he thought; if there was a monitor somewhere, the guy would think Dallas had turned on the music and left home, using the noise as a cover up.

Quickly, he turned Kathy over and hissed it in her ear, “Grab your clothes and slide under the bed. Stay quiet, no matter what happens. I think we may get a visitor.”

Reacting without panic, but with swift movements, Kathy did as she was told, asking no useless questions. She was out of sight before he stood up. Dallas found his robe, put it on, then moved into the living room.

There was a 12 gauge shotgun in the closet, one he used to hunt birds with until he learned firsthand how it felt to be hunted, in Nam. Picking up the gun, he found the box of shells on a top shelf, then fed three into the pump.

When it snapped shut, the sound of the bolt was loud in the room, masked only by the song hammering there.

By the time Dallas settled, himself into the closet and was thinking that his hunch was a loser, that he might squat there for wasted hours while Kathy cringed under the dusty bed-the kitchen door opened and shut.

Taking a firm grip on the stock of the shotgun, Dallas thought: the tapes. He’s grabbing this chance to change the tapes, or to check the mikes one by one. Or maybe the man was after something else. He could have something to plant, like the baggie left in his car earlier today.

Dallas slid out of the closet and used one toe to pull the plug from the wall.

The tape deck suddenly stopped making noise. The man stopped where he was, in the middle of the room, and stood very still.

“Put your hands on top your head,” Dallas said. “Slowly, I mean. I’m talking from behind a 12 gauge pump mister. From here, it’ll cut you in half.”

“Oh shit,” the guy said softly, and followed orders, to the letter, standing stiff and with his shoulders hunched against what might be a storm of shot.

“Now turn around,” Dallas said, “just as easy.”

The man had a livid bruise across one cheekbone; he was one of the guys who’d jumped Dallas on the beach. His eyes were wide now, and his hands shook on top his bead. “L-look, buddy…”

“The music,” Dallas said. You heard it play over and over, and you thought I sneaked out. What do you want?”

“Nothing buddy-oh shit man! Don’t jiggle that shotgun around like that!”

“I keep Number Four shot in it,” Dallas said. “They’ll probably fuck up the far wall, after they go through you. What do you want here?”

The man’s hands trembled harder. “Look, I didn’t mean-I told Harry that you were some kind of goddamned pro, and that I didn’t want to screw around with you any more. Not after you nearly busted my head.”

“You’re wasting time,” Dallas said, playing with the cocked hammer of the shotgun.

“Don’t!” the man said sharply. “Harry-that’s Harry Sladermann, the bastard-he said to come over here because you’d sneak out if you could. He wanted me to-to leave something here.”

“Grass,” Dallas said. “Just a little bag of grass, right?”

“Look,” the man said rapidly, “I never touch the stuff buddy, and it wasn’t my idea. I ain’t-I don’t carry a gun; the bag is in my shirt pocket Can I drop it on the floor?”

“Just take it out and hold it by two fingers,” Dallas ordered. “Easy-buddy.

There, that’s right. Okay, now lift that hand with the baggie in it, right up to your mouth.”

“Oh nO, man! You ain’t going to make me eat…”

“I can blow your legs off at about the knees, or cave in your skull with the gun barrel. Eat it, you son of a bitch!”

It was over in a second or two, a confused crunching and gagging and swallowing. After he choked down the pot and its cellophane wrap, the man looked a little green, and stood swaying there.

“Be damned sure you don’t puke it up,” Dallas said. “Stand there until it takes good hold. Then I’ll let you get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

Shaking his head, the man said, “I’ll probably die from this fucking stuff.

It’s dope, and I’ll probably die from It anyway. I told that damned Harry… “ eyes bulging, he said in a whisper, “and I’m telling him now. This house is bugged man. I forgot all about those damned bugs, and Harry is hearing everything I’m saying.”

Dallas pretended surprise. “Bugged? I’ll be damned. Wait until I get to that bastard Sladermann! I’ll have his license yanked so quick,…”

“Can I go?” the man asked plaintively. “Look buddy, I’ve had it. If this dope don’t kill me, I’ll leave town soon as I can. I’ve had it with Harry and bullshitting around with a pro, frying to set you up. Can I go buddy?”

Relenting, Dallas said, “The pot won’t kill you. It might make you sick as hell, or high as hell, or a combination of both. But it won’t kill you unless you get so stoned you run your car into something.”

“I’ll walk,” the man said, cautiously lowering his hands. “I’ll walk all the way out of town, I swear.”

“Start hiking,” Dallas said. “and-have a good night.”

“Oh shit,” the man said, and slouched hurriedly out the back door, the way he’d come.