Chapter 1

Jay Ballard watched the provocative sway of Karen's luscious figure, his eyes devouring the soft, rounded protuberances of her buttocks, as she turned away from his desk and went through the connecting door to the outer office, to usher in a prospective client.

The sexuality that Miss Forrester exuded reminded him, acutely, that he'd have to get to know her better... and soon, if things in the bedroom department at home didn't begin getting better, in the next few days.

Karen was just finishing up her first week as his private secretary, and she seemed to like her job. He wondered, idly, if she'd like her job better... if he could offer her some attractive fringe benefits...

His reverie was interrupted by the young giant who came through his office door. The boxer was even bigger, it seemed to Jay, than when he'd witnessed the man's last bout.

It had taken place last week, at the Olympic. Jay had been there, in the fifth row, watching Arnie Pearson, fighting at a trim two hundred and thirty-five pounds, as he had out-pointed and out-fought his opponent, decking him twice, before finally putting him away, decisively, in the ninth round with a clean knock-out. Jay remembered it had been Arnie's devastating left hook that had put BoBo Wilson on the canvas for the full count.

The fight had been clean. BoBo Wilson had been the odds on favorite, but Pearson, knowing that he was fighting one of the most important fights of his career, had carried the fight, pressingly, to the older, ring-wise Wilson... and had won it, fair and square. No one questioned that he was now in a good position to demand a bout with the Champion. Arnie Pearson was now the principal contender for the Heavyweight Boxing Title.

"Arnie!" Jay was out of his seat, extending a lean, sun-bronzed hand in greeting. "It's good to see you... but aren't you out of your element... coming to see me... ?"

A slow, friendly smile spread across the big fighter's heavy-featured face; his deep-set, widely spaced, blue eyes were troubled. His gaze was direct, as he studied the private investigator's face. He took the seat Jay pointed to and sat up ramrod straight in it, his body tense, unrelaxed.

"Well, Mr. Ballard... I haven't been robbed of the family jewels... yet..." he joked, lamely, his face settling into grim lines.

Jay laughed, heartily, while Arnie grinned, now, shyly, pleased that he, at least, appeared to be light-hearted. The detective surveyed the blonde giant across the desk from him and knew he could like this man. There was that easy-going directness about him... and there was the demonstrated ability to remain cool and collected, under stress. He had shown that several times in some thirty professional bouts.

"I saw your last fight... with BoBo Wilson..." Jay mentioned, trying to feel out the reason for the boxer's visit to his office.

"That's great... I'm awfully glad you did. It was a hard fight all the way... believe me! Wilson's a good man... a good fighter... hard to beat... one of the best in the business!" Arnie said. "... But, according to some people... I was supposed to lose that fight!"

"Well... I don't think Wilson had a chance... from the opening bell... even if he was favored, by the bettors!" Jay told him. "You were in good condition... and you were right in there, every round... carrying the fight to him... putting on the pressure..."

"Thanks... Mr. Ballard... but I'm..."

"Just call me Jay..." the detective interrupted.

"Okay... Jay, then..." He showed obvious tension at being interrupted. "... But as I was saying... I'm talking about people... that wanted me to lose it... on purpose!" Arnie got it out. His face was unsmiling, his big, square jaw set.

"You mean... somebody wanted you to throw that fight?"

"Yeah... that's it!"

"... But that doesn't make sense! BoBo was the man to put money on... ! Why would anybody want you to take a nosedive... ?" Jay queried.

Arnie looked down at his sinewy hands. He balled them into hard fists, before he looked back up at Jay, his intense blue eyes looking directly into Jay's brown ones.

"That's what bothered me, too... but afterwards, when I started thinking about it... it does make sense... if they had BoBo tied up... and he were the contender, instead of me... !"

Rubbing both hands up over his greying temples, Jay thought about it. "If I follow you... what you're saying is they, whoever that is... are looking forward to the next Championship fight!"

"It figures... if they've got the title-holder tied up... too... doesn't it?" Arnie spat his words out fast, wanting confirmation of what he thought about it.

"Christ... do you know what you're saying... ?" Jay questioned.

"I sure as hell do! I'm the question mark... because they couldn't get to me!" Arnie shot back. "... And, now I'm ruining their plans for a real killing on the title bout!"

"You mean they tried to buy you off, somehow?"

"Yeah... but I won't take their filthy money!"

"Now, they're threatening you... ?"

"... And... blackmailing me!"

Jay whistled, thoughtfully, and asked, "... So, why are you coming to me... ? The police could give you protection... and the Boxing Commission could look into the bribe attempt... and blackmail doesn't work, usually..."

"Yeah... but they've got pictures... that could ruin my marriage!" The fighter looked away, temporarily, feeling the guilt return to surge through him.

"So... that's it! They set you up... and got it all on film?"

"Well, hell... it was right after the fight! I was at this party... and met a girl... and... well, you know... one thing leads to another... and she takes me to bed!" Arnie defended.

"I understand all that... but where was your wife, Arnie?"

"She didn't come out here... for the fight," the big man explained. "She doesn't want me to fight... anyway..."

There was a long silence. Jay was digesting information, and he did understand, perfectly, how he had fallen into the trap.

Arnie went on, explaining further, "My trainer's kind of old- fashioned, you know... and whenever I go into training... I've got to live almost like a monk... for maybe two months before every fight. Hell... about the only thing left is a hand-job... every now and then!"

"If your wife were around... you couldn't have had her anyway... is that it?"

"Yeah... for all practical purposes!"

Jay nodded, still thinking. "Now," he said, "we've got to pin something down. You keep saying, 'they'... and you haven't told me who 'they' are!"

There was a moment's hesitation on Arnie's part, before he said, morosely, "That's just it... I don't know who the hell it is! If I did," he went on ominously, "maybe I could do something about it!" His big hands clenched and unclenched, with his emotion.

"Is that where I come in, then... ? You want me to find out who's putting the pressure on you?"

"Yeah... that's right... that's why I came to see you, because I've only had some goons... with guns... come around... with their threats... and..."

"... And, the pictures... ?"

"Yeah..."

"Let's start there, then... tell me about this gal you balled... everything you can remember about her... where you met her... where you went... what you did... and especially, the place you went... to climb into bed with her!"

Arnie Pearson was game. He told Jay Ballard everything he could remember about that night.

It had been jubilant and hectic in Arnie's dressing room, right after the fight. Frantic fans had crowded into his dressing room to congratulate him, and it had taken a long time to clear the room, so he could get his rub-down and get dressed.

There had been, perhaps, as many as ten invitations to parties... and Arnie was not sure how it had happened that he ended up going to a posh party in Newport. Maybe it was because of the woman who had given him the invitation. She had pressed in close to him, as he had backed into his dressing room, trying to answer news reporters' questions and being filmed for a T. V. news release. Flash bulbs had been popping, and the noise had been tremendous, the press of the crowd almost unbearable... but she had stuck with him, shouting in his ear about her party and pressing a piece of paper into his still bandaged hands. That wasn't the only message he had gotten from her. She had been busy, down below, as she had undulated up against him, her loins tight against his thigh. It was an invitation that had been hard to pass up... after all he had been pretty hard up... and when a voluptuous woman makes it that plain... Hell! What could he do... ?

He had hung onto the address... and after his rub-down and shower, he had dressed, gotten into his rental car and had driven down to Newport.

The party was going strong when he arrived... of course, he hadn't known any of the people there. They all seemed to be fans, and he felt comfortable; especially after he had downed the first two drinks, in rapid succession. He was there to have some fun! Christ! After living in a training camp for two months, he had been ready to break out and have himself a real ball... and a party... drinks... a willing woman... were some of the things he wanted for relaxation.

She had been there, of course. Her name was Carla... Carla Reynolds, a ravishing, auburn-haired beauty, with the clearest complexion Arnie had ever seen. He did gather that she wasn't the hostess for the party; she had been sent by someone else... to make sure he would come. Whoever sent her, Arnie decided, had chosen his messenger well... and she hadn't wasted any time in letting him know that that little thigh-rubbing deal in his dressing room was for real.

With a third drink in his hand, Arnie was seated on a plush couch, while the party swirled around them, Carla seated next to him, her long, tapering thigh, nylon-clad below daring hot-pants, pressed in tight against his.

She looked at him over the rim of her martini glass, her grey-green eyes smoldering, provocatively, and said, "Arnie... anytime you're ready... we can split this bash... for some real fun!" Her pink tongue snaked out between her full, sensuous lips and ran in a tiny circle around her lips, while at the same time, her fingers outlined the bulging muscles of his chest.

Arnie was pretty sure what she meant, but he asked, innocently, "Another party... some where... ?"

"Sure..." she smiled. "Just you... and me... for some fun and games..."

"Can we run out... on our host... just like that?" he asked. "Which reminds me... whose place is this, because I'm not sure I caught the name... when I came in... ?"

"Warren won't mind... I'm sure. He wanted you to come... and meet a few of his guests... which you have... and then just relax and have some fun. " She smiled, as her hand dropped down to his thigh, where it caressed him, suggestively.

He tried to remember who Warren was; his memory dredged up the image of a short, square-built man with almost silvery white hair.

"Is Warren the guy with the white hair... only he's not really old... ?" he asked, feeling embarrassment at her boldly brazen action. He felt the heat of a blush coming up above his collar.

"Yeah... that's Warren... Warren Ramsey," she affirmed. "He's got money... that doesn't stop... like Fort Knox!" she told him, leaning in close to add, "... But, I don't want to tall about him... it's you I want!"

The throaty seductiveness of her voice, her warm breath washing over him, as she made her point crystal clear to him, caused a natural reaction. Inside his pants, he felt the pounding blood rush into his penis, to be trapped there in a growing erection, while below, the strong sensation of the crawling lift of his balls by his scrotal sac made him fully aware of his demanding sex needs. Christ! He was getting hot, already! Damn! She's not bashful... about it!... So, if she's hot to trot... what in the hell am I waiting for... ?

It was a good question. He had never cheated on Joan, before now... but he had known, when he had accepted Carla's invitation to this party... that he would do just that! He'd been angry ever since a week ago, when he'd called his wife on the telephone, trying to get her to change her mind. She was stubborn about it. Under no circumstances would she come to see the fight... and that was that! He could get on a plane and come home, right afterward; she'd be there... waiting for him.

All week long, his anger had seethed, just below the boiling point, and he'd had to fight with himself, not to let it affect his training for the fight... or the fight itself. Then, tonight... when Carla had pressed in close to him, seductively rubbing herself up against him, as she told him about the party, he had made up his mind. To hell with it! I'm not climbing onto a plane, tonight! I'll go home tomorrow... or the next day! He had told his manager, in the dressing room, while he was getting his rubdown, to cancel his flight reservations. He'd reschedule them... in a day or two.

Harry Nash hadn't liked the idea. "That little wife of yours'll go haywire... if you don't get home to her!"

"She can wait a couple of days!" Arnie had growled. "I'm going to take it easy... for a while... sit in the sun on the beach and relax. "

"You sure you know what you're doing, Arnie?"

"Just cancel the God damned flight, Harry... and get the hell off my back!" he had barked. "Besides," he had added, "training's over... the fight's over... and I'm a free man... for a while!"

"Okay... Baby... it's your party, now," he told Carla, reaching down to cover her hand on his thigh... before she caused him some real embarrassment... right there, in front of everybody. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

They left Warren Ramsey's house party, together, in his rented car. Carla Reynolds snuggled up close beside him, as he drove, following her directions.

Arnie wasn't sure, exactly where he drove. He had belted down a couple of drinks, and he didn't really care. His impression was that he had driven South, possibly as far as Corona del Mar, where they had wound around through residential streets, arriving at her apartment house, in what seemed to be a very short time... Of course, he wasn't able to concentrate on his driving very well, anyway. Soon after he'd started off, Carla's hands were busy, again, down there, caressing and massaging his thigh, her hand moving up, slowly, tantalizingly... until her tiny hand was between his legs, her fingers teasing his throbbing cock to a fully elongated, aching erection. Then, expertly, she had found the zipper tab. The metallic sigh of the zipper was loud, in the car, as she lowered it... and her smooth, warm, lotion-softened hand wormed its way, knowingly, into his open fly, to find the hardened, throbbing shaft of his cock. She gasped as her exploring fingers found it and brought its turgid length out into the car.

"God... Arnie... you are a big man... in all ways... aren't you?" she crooned, lewdly.

Smiling to himself, glad that she was impressed with his more than adequate manhood, he told her, "Take it easy, Baby... it might go off in your hand!" The exquisite sensations that raced through him, at her touch, made him worry. Christ! It's been a whole two months... since I've fucked a woman!

"I'll take my chances!" she said, then asked, "Why the short fuse... ?"

"You must not know much about prize fighters..." he grinned. "I haven't balled a woman... for two months... because of training for this fight!"

"That's terrible!" Carla sympathized. "You mean... you've had no sex... at all... in that time?"

He shifted, uncomfortably, in his seat, but decided to tell her, anyway, "Well... nothing except for a hand-job, now and then... when I couldn't stand it... any longer!"

"It's inhuman... almost like being a monk... or something!" she expostulated.

"Yeah... that's right," Arnie agreed.

"What about in between fights... are you married... ?"

He wished, fervently, that she hadn't brought up that subject. There was already too much guilt crowding into him, and he didn't need any extra reminders. Hell! If Joan had only come on out here... like she should have... I wouldn't have to be out looking for a strange piece of ass! He had known that's what he would do... even before Carla had issued her sexy invitation to the party, tonight. Sure! It was wrong!... But, what the hell!... Even if Joan didn't want to watch the fight... she could've been here... waiting to take me to bed... like a good, little wife should!

"Yeah... I'm married... but let's drop that subject!" he growled.

"Okay... Arnie..." she agreed, starting to stuff his warmly jerking cock back into his pants.

"You don't have to drop that!" he grunted, startled.

"There's my apartment house. You can wait... for a couple of minutes... until we get inside, can't you?"

"I suppose I'll have to!" he grinned.

Arnie parked the car, and they went up to her apartment. Once they were inside, Carla led him directly to her bedroom, turned on a small bedside lamp and turned, quickly, to rush into his arms.

He enfolded her lithe figure in his brawny arms, and she came in tight against him, whispering, "Kiss me... Arnie! Kiss me!"

Her face was lifted up to him, and he kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue, demandingly, into her warm, moistly opened mouth as his hands smoothed down her back to the rounded, full moons of her buttocks, sheathed tightly by her scanty hot pants. His steel-banded fingers first cupped the warm resilient flesh, caressingly, then dug into the softness of them, savagely, as his passion-starved body began to react to his great need. An involuntary moan escaped his lips, as his aching penis lurched against the confining cloth of his pants, making a bid for freedom. He felt it standing up, hotly between them, and she was moving her hips in teasingly undulant circles up against it. Then, he was aware of the viscid moisture that seeped from the tiny slit in his cock's head; his natural lubricating fluids were making it feel sticky and moist... and he began to feel the expanding jerk of his cock... almost like... Hell! I'm starting to feel... almost like I'm going to cum... in my pants... like some kid... getting his first piece of ass!

Abruptly, he pulled his mouth away from hers, breaking the hot, deep kiss.

"Christ!" he breathed, urgently. "Let's get into that bed... before I explode!"

Carla leaned back away from him, laughing, still in the circle of his arms, but her loins remained plastered up against him. She gave an extra, tantalizing grind of her hips, in contact with his searingly pulsating cock and asked, "Has it really been two months... since you've laid a woman?"

"Yes... God damn it!"

"Then, you need something else... right now..." She smiled meaningfully-almost lewdly, as she pushed his big frame back onto the bed. "... And, I'll take care of that... so it'll be more fun... for both of us... later!"

Carla wedged her knees in between his thighs, as he sat on the edge of the bed, then swiftly knelt between them, her hands reaching out to unbuckle his belt and zip down the fly opening of his pants; then, as he lifted himself, slightly, she pulled his pants and his shorts down around his muscular legs.

Eagerly, one of her tiny, trembling hands reached out for the massively erect shaft of his violently jerking cock. Her red- nailed fingers couldn't go around its girth, but she slid the heavy foreskin back over the moist, blood-inflated cockhead, feeling its demanding jerk in her hand. She stared at it in disbelief. It was gigantic!

"Mmn... you are just about ready to explode!"

Tucking his hips under him, Arnie shoved his rampantly spearing cock up toward her, instinctively, wanting it... his desire heightened, even more, by the knowledge of what she intended to do to him... for him!

Then, slowly, Carla lowered her head and kissed the pulsing, smooth, red tip, while her other hand squirmed under him to caress his heavy, sperm-laden testicles.

The warm, smoothness of her sensuous lips, kissing the throbbing head of his lust-filled prick was electrifying, and he thrust up at her lipstick-reddened mouth with animal urgency... wanting it... now!

"Oh, God!" he groaned. "Suck it! Suck my cock... now!"

Her saliva heated mouth came down over it, then, her lips ovalling around the pulsing coronal ridge to enclose the whole of his smooth rubbery cockhead in warmly sensual moistness.

Arnie's needfully throbbing prick jerked, expandingly, in her mouth, and the erotic thought of what she was doing to him... the lewd, salaciousness of it... almost as much as the ecstatically tingling sensations that raced through him, gave him an added feeling of voluptuous expectation.

The shaft of his cock was held in one of her tiny, soft hands, while the other, underneath, kneaded and caressed his balls, gently, her red-lacquered nails scratching across the wrinkled skin, lightly; meanwhile, she had begun to hollow her cheeks, sucking his pulsating cockhead with a strong, steady rhythm, her head beginning to bob up and down, absorbing more of his massive length each time her mouth nibbled downward toward his hairy loins.

Inside her mouth, her tongue swirled around the blood-filled head of his cock, with wild abandon, and he was aware that on every upstroke, she was attempting to worm the tip of her wetly flicking tongue into the tiny slit of the very tip of it.

Arnie tensed his muscular loins and shoved his demanding prick up into her wildly sucking mouth, feeling it plunge, deeply, into her throat, as he began to thrust in rhythmic, counter- movements to her smoothly bobbing head.

In a hypnotic trance of sexual need, lost in a sensual morass of pleasure sensations, he moaned, again, softly, as her nibbling mouth began to move up and down his massive shaft with increasing speed and pressure, her knowledgeable tongue giving a swirling lick to the lust-hardened head of his cock on every upstroke.

Looking down at her face, working over him, he saw that she was in a sexual rapture of her own. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was labored, streaming in and out of her nose, with an audible rasping sound.

Her long, auburn hair was falling down over naked thighs, and he reached out to the glossy sheen of it, with both hands, placing one on either side of her head, to guide her up and down the ever more demanding shaft of his aching cock.

It was fascinating for him to watch, as a little, raggedly pink flange of her moistly sucking lips was pulled out on each withdrawal, then stuffed back in, again, as the hardened rod of his penis slipped into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing in and out, as she sucked, hungrily, on him.