Chapter 5

By Friday evening, Nestor Burns was on top of the world, while at the same time Sally Baxter was sinking slowly into the depths of depression.

After receiving Baxter's check at lunch on Monday, Burns had gone directly to the bank to cash it. On Tuesday when Rocky Olson paid his visit, the detective's luck had finally turned. First thing, he paid Olson back his two hundred dollars. Next thing, he wangled Olson into a card game that very evening. By two in the morning as the chips were cashed in, Burns found that he had won back the two hundred dollars plus an extra fifty.

"Well, I'll be damned," Olson had muttered in genuine surprise, "I never thought I'd see you actually win a game."

"Try me again, sweetheart," Burns laughed. "The bank's open all week." And sure enough, Olson had taken up the detective's offer.

From Tuesday on, Nestor Burns' apartment had turned into a casino, and by early Friday evening empty whiskey bottles were strewn all over the bare wood floor. An old shoe box on the big sturdy table in the middle of the living room bulged with green bills. The room was choking with thick smoke from cigars and cigarettes, and in the very center of it, three exhausted men played on with an air of intense concentration... Burns, Rocky Olson and a tall, powerful man who went by the nickname of Slope. By seven-thirty that evening Olson was muttering disgustedly to himself. He had removed his shirt and his powerful muscles bulged out from under his tee-shirt. Every few minutes he ran his stubby fingers through the thick locks of his dark greasy hair, as though in an effort to keep himself awake.

Next to him, Slope hunched over the table blinking his eyes to keep awake. The oversized wiry man was nearly seven feet tall, and his hands spread out almost to the size of catcher's-mits to conceal the cards within them.

Burns chortled to himself as his two cronies agonized over their hands. He was sitting in a throne on top of the world, and nothing was going to knock him off. For the first time in ages he was winning... winning big, but that wasn't the half of it. At eight o'clock the luscious little Baxter bitch was going to walk through the door of his apartment with a handbag stuffed full of bills... five thousand bucks, and every penny of it was gong to be for Nestor Burns. With that kind of stake he could clean these guys out of every cent.

"For Christ's sake," Olson grumbled. "I can't even see any more."

"Keep playin' baby," Burns urged. He wasn't about to let anybody drop out of the game now.

"You sure you ain't playin' with a marked deck?" the giraffe- like man muttered.

"You looked at the deck three times already, Slope. What do you want me to do, wash it off with soap?"

"When's this dame comin' that you were talkin' about all week? That's the only reason I'm stickin' around," Rocky said.

"Me too," Slope grumbled.

"Soon, soon," Burns assured them.

Sally couldn't help but notice the suspicious way Rod had been keeping an eye on her on Friday evening at dinner. She was so nervous thinking about getting those films back she had burned the roast and dropped two dishes as she cleared the table. Fortunately, though, he had not pressed her about where she was going. It was as though he had steeled himself against some inevitable disaster. Shortly after dinner he had retired to the den and turned on the television. She could hear it blaring out from downstairs now as she hurried up to the bedroom.

Once inside she clicked the door shut and locked it. Nervously, her trembling fingers counted out the large bills she had stuffed inside her handbag... five thousand dollars exactly. It had been pure hell getting the money, and as a last resort she had been forced to go to a finance company, pledging the Jaguar, which was in her name, as collateral. Quickly now she wrapped a rubber band around the bulging wad of money and stuffed it back inside as she prayed that this would be the end of it all... That money was the last hope to ransom her freedom. Why, why, she sighed despairingly, had she let herself get carried away with those young boys at the park? Thank God she was being given a second chance. All she had to do now was pay off that horrible detective, and then she would be free. And once she was free, she was going to get rid of her horrible panty compulsion no matter how hard it would be.

The calling card on which she had scribbled the detective's address was stuffed deep inside her handbag, and with her fingers shaking violently, she fished it out to glance at the number one last time. It was then that she heard the creaking noise outside the bedroom door. Her heart caught in her throat and pounded violently... Silence. She could hear the blood ringing in her ears but then as quickly as the sudden fear had seized her, it disappeared. She heard Rod's footsteps treading lightly away from the door over the padded hallway carpet unto the bathroom. She had to act quickly now. She had to leave while her husband was still in the bathroom and since she would be gone only for a couple of hours, it would be easy enough to come up with an alibi for the hundreds of questions Rod was going to ask her.

Mustering all the courage in her soul, Sally crumpled up the address and flung it into the wastebasket next to the bed. Then she hurried out the bedroom door down the stairs and outside to the garage.

From inside the bathroom Rod Baxter could hear the roar of the Jaguar as its engine started. This was it, he thought painfully to himself. The detective had been right after all. Sally was cheating on him. A deep pang of hurt stabbed at his heart as he peered out the bathroom window out of the driveway and roar down the neat tree-shaded suburban street...

"I've had it," Rocky Olson grumbled in exhaustion as he slapped his cards down on the table.

"Me too," Slope agreed. "It's ten after eight, and this chick ain't even showed up yet."

"I thought you guys wanted to play cards," Burns chided.

"Enough is enough. We been playin' cards all week."

"All right, all right," Burns conceded, taking a glance at his watch. He was getting worried now, but the sudden ringing of the doorbell caused his face to light up in a big smile of relief.

"Come in, the door's open, baby," Burns sang out sweetly. A second later the door was pushed hesitantly open to reveal a tall voluptuous young woman dressed in a daring short suede miniskirt.

"Well, I'll be--" Olson whistled under his breath, hardly able to believe his eyes. Slope's jaw dropped.

"Come in, Mrs. Baxter," Burns repeated and as she obeyed, the hungry eyes of the poker players followed her lithely enticing form, fixing on her as though she were a love goddess from another planet.

The long willowy columns of her luscious legs rose gracefully from her high-heeled leather shoes, flared out alluringly just above the knee and disappeared beneath her skimpy suede miniskirt.

Her shimmering pink silk blouse could barely contain the warmly swelling mounds of her breasts beneath, and the golden locks of her lustrous blonde hair flowed down in light buoyant curls to her shoulders. Her hands curled casually through the straps of her pocketbook, and try though she might, she could barely conceal their trembling nervousness.

"I believe we have some business, Mr. Burns," she announced as calmly as she could.

"Right this way... You remember the bedroom don't you, Mrs. Baxter?" Burns said in sadistic delight as she blushed at his words.

The detective's cronies followed her with their eyes in silent amazement as she disappeared into the shabby bedroom and the door shut behind her.

"Here's your money," Sally said finally as she coldly handed him the rolled up wad of bills. God, she wanted nothing more than to leave this horrible apartment as quickly as possible. Already the bitter memories of her indecent humiliation here were beginning to lewdly flood her mind. "Now--I would like the films."

Burns undid the rubber band and began counting the bills rapidly, wetting his fingers with the tip of his tongue.

"That's right, Mrs. Baxter... exactly right," he said as he stuffed it into the front pocket of his trousers.

"Now the films, please," she demanded impatiently.

Uppity little bitch, Burns thought to himself. He'd like to teach her a thing or two before she slipped through his hands.

"Sure, sure... Nestor Burns is as good as his word," the detective smiled lewdly. Brushing past her, he crawled beneath the bed and began searching for the film canister. For a Long moment, however, he hesitated even though he had already located what he was looking for.

It had all been so easy, he thought to himself. This Baxter bitch was a real pushover, and it was a shame to let her go now... especially with that snotty attitude of hers. Hell, he would just love to hear her begging and screaming for cock the way he had forced her to do before. Besides, she just might be the extra added attraction to keep Rocky and Slope at the gaming table while he took their money.

Slowly he withdrew the film canister from under the bed and straightened up to face her, his hands still tightly clutching it on either side.

"G-give it to me," Sally stammered hesitantly, reaching impulsively for it. In a sudden frantic effort she tried to jerk it away from the detective, but he merely cracked a wide, lewd smile.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Baxter... There's one more thing..."

"You promised," she hissed vehemently through clenched teeth. "You said you would give it to me." Her fiery blue eyes bored fiercely into the detective's snidely smiling face.

"Sure, sure," Burns said soothingly. "But how do you know I didn't make another print?"

Her eyes, livid with rage now, flashed angrily at him. "You- you couldn't," she faltered. Casually, he tossed the film canister on the bed as she remained helplessly paralyzed with rage. She should have know it all along. He had tricked her, and she had fallen for it.

"I suppose it's more money you want?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Baxter," Burns said graciously. "I'm going to give you a chance to win back those films."

"Win back--what do you mean?"

"I'm going to let you join our little poker game out there."

"But I hardly--"

"It's all right," he offered generously. "We'll teach you. Poker is a very simple game. In fact, it's mostly luck."

"I-I don't understand," Sally stammered in confusion. "You don't want my money, but you want me to play poker."

"That's right, Mrs. Baxter... strip poker. All you need is your clothes to play."

Sally's mouth opened in amazement, but the words choked in her throat. Suddenly she began to feel dizzy.

She had seen the repulsive sweaty looking men in the other room, and the very sight of them had sent shivers of disgust running up her spine. Now she was being asked to play strip poker with them. Her whole body rebelled against the thought until tears of rage choked her eyes.

"You have no choice, Mrs. Baxter," Burns reminded her. "And besides, you know you'll like it... You'll like showing my friends those sexy little panties of yours, won't you?"

Burns' voice had become low and hypnotic as he moved toward her slowly, inch by inch. Her eyes glazed with fright, she back away from him toward the wall behind her.

"Noooo, noo," she pleaded hoarsely.

"You have no choice, Mrs. Baxter," Burns repeated in a low soothing voice, and before she knew what was happening she could feel his body pressing tightly against hers, his hot whiskey-laden breath inflaming the pure white softness of her cheeks.

"No... No... I won't," she protested vainly, shaking her head from side to side as he closed in on her.

The detective's hand suddenly dropped against her tightly clenched legs and began moving up toward the hem of her dress. Slowly it glided in between the warmly trembling flesh of her thighs. Frozen in fear, she could feel his fingers traveling up, up over her smooth nylon stockings toward the thin strip of the brief white bikini panties, nestled like a soft warm pillow between her legs as she stood rigid he backed against the wall.

"You'll like showing us those flimsy little panties of yours... just the way you did to those young boys."

"Please... please!" Sally squealed.

"You have no choice," he repeated again as his hand slowly withdrew from up between her legs. "My friends are waiting."

Sally closed her eyes in desperation and leaned her head back against the wall. There was no choice now, there was nothing else she could do but face her fate. And perhaps there was a chance... some slight chance that she could escape the humiliation Burns had planned for her.

"Are you coming?" Burns breathed against her cheek.

"Yes... yes... I'm coming," she choked.

The excited whisperings that had passed between the two amazed men in the other room died down as Burns emerged followed by the beautiful woman.

"We got a new player," he announced, pulling up a chair for her. "This should keep up your interest in the game."

As the lewdly grinning faces followed her every move, Sally eased herself into the chair Burns offered, her arms remaining rigidly at her sides. God, she shivered, how repulsive these men are. The dark-haired one was already undressing her with his greedy eyes and she could see his tongue wetly licking his lips. The tall one sitting directly across from her looked almost like a moron, his mouth hanging agape, his massive hands cupped together like gigantic sledge hammers on the table.

Burns, meanwhile, had disappeared once again into the bedroom to find clean glasses, telling himself he was going to ply that Baxter bitch with booze until she loosened up enough to spread her long legs and swallow some great big cocks inside that dean little pussy of hers. He had an idea the evening might turn into just a little bit more than a strip poker game, and Nestor Burns was not about to miss out on the fun--especially if it could be turned to his profit. Hell, Rocky and Slope would have their eyes so glued on that chick they'd forget how to play cards!

By the time Burns returned to the other room, Rocky was in the midge of explaining the game of poker to the frightened woman.

"Now, you think you understand?" he was saying, his bare arm around the back of her chair.

"Of course, she understands," the detective said jovially as he slid into his seat. "Now what d'ya say we cut cards?"

Sally's throat suddenly felt parched and dry with fear. She knew the basic rules of the game, and the practice hands had refreshed her memory, but still it was an uphill battle, though she had made up her mind to fight it with the best of her ability. Sitting rigidly on the edge of her chair, she watched the detective scoop up the cards in preparation for the first hand.

"Ante up," Burns commanded, as he shuffled the deck, his fingers expertly bending the cards to his will. Olson and Slope leered conspiratorially at each other and tossed their chips on the table.

"Don't I get any chips?" Sally asked in a quavering voice. The three men exchanged amazed glances and suddenly burst out in loud guffaws.

"No, baby, you use your clothes, remember? This is strip poker," Burns reminded her.

Sally's face turned red amid the roaring laughter of the uncouth men surrounding her. It was hopeless to run away now. She needed those films desperately, and this was the only way she was going to get them. Hesitantly she pushed her chair back and stretched out her leg, reaching for the buckle of her patent leather shoe. God, she thought, they were really going to make her go through with this.

Rocky's eyes riveted on the silk smoothness of her enticingly outstretched leg as he bent forward to observe it closely. While Sally struggled with the dainty silver buckle her miniskirt rode up high on her deliciously flaring thighs to reveal the black lace of her garter belt to Olson's lewdly leering eyes. She jerked at the strap clumsily and slid the shoe off her foot.