Chapter 4

The "conference" Arnie drove up to L A. for was with Jay Ballard. He sat across the desk from the private investigator, while Jay ran down the list of information he had gathered so far.

"I haven't been able to locate Carla Reynolds... yet," he told the boxer, "but she could be using another name. "

"Yeah... I hadn't thought of that..." Arnie admitted.

"Now, here's what I've got on Warren Ramsey," Jay said, referring to his notes. "He was born in Idaho... about fifty- years old. Bachelor... at least he isn't married, right now. Good rating with Dunn and Bradstreet... President of a pleasure boat building company... Extensive holdings in electronics... And, this is important! He has a string of race horses... Makes the racing circuit... and is a big bettor whether his horses are running or not... and..." Jay paused, significantly, "he's a fight fan! Attends almost all the important bouts!"

"Which means," Arnie said, thoughtfully, "if he's betting the horses... he's also betting on the fights.

"Exactly!"

"Is he into any of the fight stables... own any boxer's contracts... ?"

"If he does... I haven't been able to dig it out, yet!" Jay grunted. "It would sure fit together... and all I'd have to do is connect one of those bully boys with him... and Carla... and we could bust it wide open!" the detective speculated.

"... But, right now... there's nothing to tie him into it... is that right?"

"That's the hell of it... I'm just making a wild guess!" Ballard confessed. "There's not a damned thing to connect him with anything... except that you went to a party, that he gave! Which reminds me... he's a big party-giver... with a pretty good reputation as a cocksman! He's also been involved with some pretty well-known women... in the international jet-set!"

"He really gets around, then... ?"

"... And spends money, lavishly!"

"Pays his income tax... ?"

"Like a model citizen!" Jay affirmed. "He's clean... absolutely clean... and that's what bugs me!"

"Then... maybe you're on the wrong track... as far as Ramsey's concerned..."

"I don't think so!" Jay snorted. "Here's a rough profile: Money... Horses... Women... Gambling! Three weaknesses... that take money! Lots of it... and I don't think he makes that much money building pleasure boats... alone! There's got to be another source! All I've got to do is find out where the rest of his money comes from!"

"Well... I hope you can!" Arnie said fervently. "By the way I've moved..."

"That's good... it'd buy us some time, while they're trying to find you, again!" Jay observed. "Where... ?"

"Corona del Mar area..." Arnie told him. "Here's the address..." He wrote it out for the detective. "I don't have a telephone, yet. "

Jay was surprised. "Why the hell did you move down there?"

"That's where Joan wanted to live. She picked the apartment!" Arnie defended.

"Do you mean... she's going to stay here, now?"

"Yeah," Arnie grinned. "She finally got some sense... I guess!"

"... Or she's suspicious... !" Jay suggested, cynically.

"I don't think so... and I'm sure they haven't made contact with her yet!"

"Let's hope not!"

"Should I level with Joan... tell her what's going on?" Arnie asked, worriedly.

"No! Not yet! I'd like to stop it... while it's just a conspiracy... and maybe we could keep it from her, completely!" Jay told him.

"Okay... whatever you say..."

Arnie Pearson left, and Jay stared at the closed door, wondering: I sure as hell hope that I've made the right guess!

Warren Ramsey picked up the third telephone on his desk. Its number was unlisted and known to only a very few people.

"Yes... ?" he barked into the mouthpiece.

"Stearns... Warren..." the voice came over the wires to him. "We spotted Pearson!"

"Where?"

"He's talking to a private eye... name of Ballard!"

"Okay! That's good! Now, this's what I want you to do. You got Pratt with you... ?"

"Yeah. "

"Have him stick to Pearson... find out where he's living now. I figure that wife of his must be here, with him... since they turned up a blank in Omaha!" Ramsey instructed. "... And, tell him to let me know... personally as soon as he's got the address!"

"Right!"

"And, I want you, Jack... to pay a little visit to that private detective! Tell him it's time to bow out... or else!"

"Should I give him something to remember... ?" Jack Stearns asked.

"No... just warn him off... but you'll know what to do if he's not going to cooperate..." Ramsey told him.

"Okay... we'll get right on it!" Stearns broke the connection.

Jack Stearns bulldozed his way past Karen Forrester in the outer office and burst into Jay's office, taking him by surprise.

"You Jay Ballard... ?" he demanded.

"Yes... what do you want?"

"Arnie Pearson was just here... and I'd like to give you some advice... about what to do on his case!"

"I can always use good advice..." Jay said mildly. "What is it?"

"Nothing! Don't do any more work for him... at all!"

"He's given me a retainer... and I..."

"Give it back!" Stearns grated. "Better yet... maybe you should take a vacation!"

While the other man was talking, Jay made mental notes. He would know this man... any time he saw him again. Medium build... five feet ten or eleven inches tall... 180 pounds... late thirties... wavy blonde hair... brown eyes... scar on his forehead... long, straight nose... heavy lower jaw... long, oval face... and the sound of his voice, all registered in his mind and he would remember.

"I don't have time for vacations!" Jay told him, leaning back in his swivel chair. He was relaxed but alert, waiting for a possible attack. He knew, now, that someone-Ramsey maybe -was worried, so they were trying to scare him off!

"You're not listening very good!" Ramsey's man threatened.

"Come off it, Man... I've sat through hundreds of Grade B movies and TV whodunnits... where the big, tough guy warns the detective to lay off... and you're playing it worse than any I've ever seen!" Jay said, with a disarming grin. "Now... unless you've got some further business with me... I'd suggest you leave, now!"

Stearns, caught off guard by Jay's unruffled reaction, gaped, staringly, for a moment, then turned to leave, shooting back, lamely, over his shoulder, "Okay... smart-ass... don't say you weren't warned!"

"I'll get it down in my notes!" Jay Ballard returned.

When the unknown bearer of a warning from an equally, as yet, unknown source was gone, the detective heaved a sigh of relief, glad that there had been no violence. But, it was damned close... if I hadn't kidded him out of it!

Intending to go home for dinner, since he'd been so busy for the last two days that he hadn't made it home... until the early hours of the morning, Jay headed for the parking lot. He was worried... not about Arnie's troubles but his own. Hell! Things aren't getting any better... between Betty and me... but if she'd loosen up a little bit and put a little zing into our sex- life... it'd sure help! Maybe, what we need is a good vacation... go off somewhere... relax... and get things ironed out... otherwise... we're headed straight for the divorce court! The hell of it is... Betty's basically... a sexy woman... She's got everything going for her!... And, I love her... but she's not turned on! Christ!... If only...

Jay had almost reached his Mustang and was delving into his jacket pocket for the car's keys, when he became aware of a racing engine behind him. He glanced back to see a car bearing down on him. Instinctively, he jumped out of the way and rolled between two parked cars. The car, a big Pontiac, had just missed him... and as he picked himself up off the asphalt, he knew it was no accident. God damn! That was close... too close! And, it's either a second warning... or the damned guy was really trying to do me in!

He hadn't had time to get a license number... but the face behind the wheel he'd know anywhere. It was the goon who'd burst into his office to give the detective some "advice. "

Forgotten was his intention to go home; instead, he drove to police headquarters, where he spent an hour or more poring over mug shots. He found what he was looking for and lodged a formal complaint against: Stearns, John W., also called Jack, one former conviction for armed robbery; an extortion case was dismissed... for lack of evidence. There was a long string of assaults in his record, as well as three busts for bookmaking.

"We don't have anything pending on him... right now," the duty Lieutenant told Ballard, then asked, "What happened... ?"

"He tried to kill me... with his car, in the parking lot of my office building!" Jay said vehemently.

"Do you know why, Jay?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Jay answered, evasively.

"Okay... well try to pick him up on this!"

After all the details were taken care of... it was too late to drive home, so he drove South, to Newport... picked up a bite to eat at a drive-in and continued his search for Carla Reynolds, whom he was convinced was somehow the key to the whole situation.

It was around midnight when Jay hit pay-dirt. He found a bartender in a plush bar who knew Carla, and a five dollar bill was enough to get him her telephone number. The rest was easy. He located the apartment building, checked it and found her apartment empty.

Settling down to wait and watch, he was determined to see her... and get information from her one way or the other.

A little after one in the morning, Carla arrived... with a man. Hell! She's picked up an all night trick!

He made for the nearest pay telephone and dialed her number, sure that she would answer... if things weren't too far along.

"Hello... Carla Baby!" he said, slurring his words, purposely, "I'm here... all primed... an' ready for some fun!"

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"You don't know me, Baby... I'm from out of town... but I heard 'bout you... an..."

"But... what's your name... and what do you want... ?"

"Name's Jay... Jay Ballard... and I don't have to tell you what I'm after, Baby!" he slurred. "... An' I got the money to pay for it with... you get me... ?"

"It's late... and I..."

"Yeah... I can guess... some other bastard beat me to the punch... for the rest of the night... right... ?"

"Well... you know..."

"Kick 'im out... and I'll be right over!"

"No... you don't understand..."

"The hell I don't!"

"... But, maybe we could work something out... for tomorrow..." She hated to let him go... without making some arrangement... for later.

"Tomorrow... afternoon... ?" he queried.

"Yes... that'll be Okay... Give me a call... ?"

"Sure, Baby... I'll call you... 'cause I've got three more days... and a bad need... for some real fun and games!"

"Around two... Okay... ?"

"That's perfect, Carla Baby! You got yourself a date!"

He hung up, quick, grinning his satisfaction. Well... I've got a date... that's going to be fun to keep!

Jay was on time. Before he went up to Carla's apartment, he put his. 38 in the glove compartment of his car and clipped the little Berreta to the inside back of his pants waistband. There was no point in being completely unprepared.

Carla greeted him at the door. "Jay... ?" she asked.

"Yeah... and it's sure been a long wait!"

She didn't let him in, just yet. "Where'd you get my telephone number?" Carla demanded.

Ballard told her the name of the bartender and the location of the place. "... And, it cost me five!" he concluded.

Satisfied that he was not a vice-squad officer, she opened the door to admit him.

"Do you quiz everybody... like that?" Jay asked.

"Well... I've got to be careful, you know..."

"Yeah... I suppose so..." he agreed, stepping in close to take her in his arms, to kiss her.

She seemed to be reluctant, as he probed at her lips with his tongue, his hands moving down over the softness of her straight back to the rounded protuberances of her full-orbed buttocks and discovering in the process that she wore no encumbering bra or panties. His hands dug into the resilient flesh of them, hungrily.

Twisting her lips away, Carla told him, firmly, "It's fifty dollars... in advance!"

"You're lovely..." Jay told her with a disarming grin, but you must have a cash register... in place of a heart. "

He watched her gathering frown, as she tried to work up some anger over what he had said; the frown turned to a smile, though, when she reached out for the fifty dollar bill he took out of his wallet. She had balanced it out, quickly, for herself... in favor of the money.

Silently, she turned away, her walk studiedly provocative as she headed for the bedroom. Smart-ass! I'll give him a quickie... and kick him out of here!

Jay didn't follow.

Looking back over her shoulder at him, she said, "Well... ? The bedroom's back here!"

"That fifty ought to buy a drink... too..." he suggested.

"Okay... what'll it be?" She was disappointed that he wanted to delay.

"Scotch-rock'll be fine," Jay grunted, dropping into a comfortable chair.

Carla fixed the drinks and brought them. Handing him his drink, she sat on the sofa, facing him, tucking up her legs, her mini-shift riding up and giving him a clear view of her curvaceously tapered thighs and a flashing glimpse of auburn- tinted pubic hair to match the dark red of her carefully combed, lustrous hair.

He smiled his lewd appreciation, and hoisting his glass in toast, said, "Here's to what makes the world go around!"

"Sex... ?" she smiled.

"No! Money!" He took a long swallow of his drink, then as he looked over at her, again, he added, "It's the one thing people'll do almost anything for!"

His remark made her feel uncomfortable. She tried to change the subject. "Did you come here... just to drink and talk... ?"

"Hell no! I came here on business!" Jay told her, setting his glass down on the coffee table and getting up to strip off his jacket and tie, before sitting down, again, next to her on the couch. She started to cringe away from him, thinking she had made a mistake about him, after all. Twice before, she had been busted by vice-squad men, and she was frightened, momentarily, until he added, with a grin, "Your business... that is..."

He took her, solidly, into his arms, and his lips sought for and found hers, but this time, it was her moist, pink tongue that came surging into his mouth, searchingly, as his hands began to explore the soft contours of her lush body.

Cupping the resilient mound of a perfectly sculptured breast through the soft material of her dress, he kneaded it massagingly, and felt the tiny nipple spiking out hard and erect into the palm of his hand, while below, between his own legs, the natural and normal reaction began to take place.

There was the crawling lift of his scrotum pulling his balls up close to his body and the throbbing fullness in his penis as it became blood-engorged in a growing erection. He'd have to hold himself back... if his plan for Carla were to work. Damn it... just concentrate on getting her worked up!

He knew, from past experience, that many prostitutes didn't allow themselves to become involved with their johns; they just faked it all the way... made the guy think he was really getting a good lay, while she remained completely detached. Jay, consciously, tried to repress his own sexuality; at the same time he stimulated her, reversing the roles.

Sliding his hand down across her flat belly, then out along the smooth whiteness of a finely tapered thigh, he went in under the short length of her dress, allowing his warm hand to massage the soft flesh up the smooth inner side, moving upward, slowly, until he was rummaging in the angle of her thighs, caressing the curling fleeciness of her pubic hair; meanwhile, he was forcing her back, by slow degrees, until she was lying supine on the couch, beneath him, her legs straightened out, now, and parted slightly. Smoothly, he slipped a finger down into the moist warmth of her pussy, pressuring in through the fleshy folds from the top and parting the sparse adornment of hair, to find the tiny, erectly throbbing bud of her clitoris. His finger rubbed at it, teasingly, gently bringing it to even greater hardness; then, using two fingers, together, he drummed a tattoo up and down its short, pulsating length. He was rewarded by feeling the erotic spasms of it in her body and the tiny grinding undulations of her loins up against his taunting fingers.

Suddenly, Carla gasped, twisting her mouth away, savagely, and moaning, "Damn you... you're not like most of the others... who just want a quick fuck! You've got to make like the great lover!"

"What's your objection, Baby?"

"I just don't like to... make it... really make it with the johns... and besides... it takes up my time!"

"Well... Carla, Baby... you're going to make it with me... all the way!" he promised.

"Let's go into the bedroom... then!"

"Suits me..." Jay agreed, leaning back to allow her to get up.

The detective followed her into the bedroom, removing his shirt and undershirt, as he walked, and watching the provocative sway of her hips.

Once inside the bedroom, Carla whipped off her mini-sheath to reveal the voluptuous curves of her soft, womanly body. As she tossed her dress to the back of a vanity chair, Jay came in behind her, his arms going around her, under her arms, his itching hands clutching at the full, softly pliant mounds of her breasts, while his lips came down to kiss her delicately sloping shoulders and the nape of her neck. She shivered with delight and turned in the circle of his arms to press her nakedly curvaceous body up against him with a mewling moan of building passion. He felt the erect cones of her hardened nipples press in, tightly, against his own naked, hairy chest, while below her hips gyrated in tiny circles against the lengthening hardness of his almost fully erect, throbbing cock.

Jay's hands swarmed over her, smoothing the svelte contours of her body, his strong fingers kneading the resilient, warm flesh of her full-orbed buttocks. Then, his mouth was on hers, his tongue bursting through her lips to probe deep into the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. He did it with more ardor than he felt... on purpose. I want her really hot to trot... before I really start working her over!

After a moment or two, she broke the kiss and murmured, "I don't know why... I'm letting you do this..."

"Because you like it... I imagine!" he grunted, walking her backward the short distance to the edge of the bed.

As the backs of her knees contacted the edge of the bed, he pushed the auburn-haired beauty back onto it and stepped back. Quickly, he shed his shoes, socks and pants, leaving only his shorts to cover him, partially.

Sprawling there on the bed, where he had shoved her down, Carla's legs were splayed, obscenely, and he could see the pink flesh of her pussy, glistening dully moist and palpitant in the dim light of the bedroom.

Inside his shorts, his massive erection stirred and jerked involuntarily, and Carla's eyes were glued to the spot, her interest intense.

This man's lips, tongue and hands had ignited a slow fuse that was sputtering away in her, and she was trapped in a morass of ecstatic sensations that raced through her voluptuous body in waves of erotic anticipation. The thing that really bothered her... and the reason she didn't want to become involved, this afternoon... was the telephone call she had received just before Jay's arrival. It was Joan who had called... and Carla had convinced her to come to her apartment that same afternoon. She had already agreed to having Jay there... but she hated to turn him away and lose the money. She hated worse the fact that he had turned out to be so ardent. Now... I'm all worked up... and I'll have to go through with it! Not that she didn't like the idea of being turned on by a man; she had been thinking of Joan, and the delicious things she had in mind for her. It had been farthest from her mind that she'd be responding to Jay... but she was. There was nothing she could do about it... now... She just hoped that she could get rid of him... before Joan arrived.

A mewling hum of anticipation emitted from her throat, as her eyes devoured him, watching the lurch of the outsized bulge in his shorts. Then, her own hands, well-manicured and lotion-softened, slid, sinuously, up over her body to the full moons of her breasts, where her fingers played, narcissistically, with the distended, berry-like buds of her nipples, the darker pink of their aureoles drawing up in sensitive wrinkles of soft flesh.

"God!" she moaned, finally, anxious for him to go on now, "Get your shorts off... so you can start fucking me... with that big cock of yours!"

While Jay had been watching her, he had reached back of him, to get the object he needed, from his shirt pocket. Now, he held it behind him, a lewd smile of anticipation on his face. She's hot... already... and it won't be long... now... before she'd be crawling up the walls!

Carla closed her eyes, expecting that he would be on top of her, digging and poking at her body and shoving his hard cock into her cunt. Then, he'd fuck her for all he was worth... until he came, frantically... and that would be that...

... But, it didn't happen that way!

She was caught by surprise, as the unexpected happened. Her body jerked, spasmodically, involuntarily, at the light, tickle of something that was moving inch by tortuous inch up the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, heading, she knew for the pulsating portal of her cuntal passage that gaped open to him, because of her obscenely splayed thighs.

Her eyes flew open, widening, as she gaped down to where Jay was leaning over her, a gaily colored blue and green peacock feather held in his fingers, lightly, as he twirled it, teasingly, on her vibrant, sex-tingling flesh. Instantly, she clamped her legs together.

"What the hell... do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Jay grinned down at her, salaciously. "Getting you good and ready... for some wild fucking!" he told her, and went right on with his tantalizing torture of her, dragging it now up the valley of her close-held thighs.

Instinctively, her hands flew to her pubic mound, protectively, knowing in a flash that if he were actually to use the feather on her cunt there would be no end to her arousal... and she didn't want that. She still held the image, in her mind, of the expected pleasures she would have with the dark-haired Joan... when she arrived.

"My God, Jay... don't do that... to me!"

"Why not... ?" he grunted. "It feels good... doesn't it?"

"Yes... but it's torture!"

"Not really! This'll turn you on... like nothing you've ever had before!" he grated, intent on what he was doing. "So you might as well lie back and enjoy it... for a while!"

Catching up her hands by the wrists, in a steel-fingered grasp, he pulled them away from the pulsating slit of her pussy.

"Now... open your legs!" he ordered.

"No! I-I won't let you do it!"

"I've paid you... in advance... you little whore!" he bellowed. "And, I'll do what the hell I please! Understand?"

Carla understood. She slowly relaxed the muscles of her thighs, to allow them to spread apart for his idea of fun. It could be worse! She told herself. At least... he's not one of the weird ones with whips... and crazy clothes!

The detective's triumph over her gave him a definite edge, now. Damn! It won't be long... until she's begging for mercy! Then... we'll see...

Jay released her hands, then, and focusing his full attention on what he was doing, began to tantalize her naked flesh with the peacock feather.

Groaning with helplessness, Carla felt the teasing lightness of the soft tip of the feather, as it tracked tiny circles of fire on the smooth skin of her inner thighs, darting into the hollows on either side of her sparsely hair fringed cuntal lips. She could have screamed with the excruciating torment, as it moved, relentlessly, toward its obvious target, through a deviously tortuous route.

Inexorably, the feather in his hand moved closer and closer, until finally, it trailed into the coralline moistness of her vaginal furrow, fringed, lightly, with the soft auburn curls of her pubic hair. Around and around he twisted it, dipping into her cuntal opening, momentarily, only to drag it, between the inner, petal-like lips that had begun to flower open with blood engorgement, and as he watched with lewd satisfaction he saw them begin to turn to a darker shade of pink.

Never had Carla experienced such an ecstatically sexy, nerve- charged, exciting sensation. She writhed on the bed, her hips undulating up to that torturing feather, and her breath came in uncontrolled, short, sharp pantings, as she felt him thrust it, twirlingly, in and out of her moist cuntal passage, igniting searing flames of desire that raced, unchecked in her nerve endings, like an all-consuming prairie fire, leaping before a strong wind and destroying all in its path.

She was ready... and already she had had enough of the feather, as she became aware of the slippery, warm moisture that exuded from the inner walls of her vaginal tunnel to ooze in viscid droplets into her cuntal portal. God! She was on fire with a desire she had never before felt.

"Oh, My God... Jay! Stop it! I can't stand it!" she groaned. "Stop playing around with me... and fuck me... damn it!"

"Later... Baby!"

Jay wasn't about to stop... yet; he wanted her completely helpless... He twisted the feather farther into the moist depths of her cent; then finally, after long moments it left her vagina and pirouetted upward to dance through the sparse, auburn fringe to the pulsating bud of her erectile clitoris, hidden in the defile of her womanly slit. He moved it, tormentingly, up and down the short length of the miniature phallus, coming to rest with a twirling motion on the sensitive triangle of its blood- engorged, sensitive head. She stifled a scream. Never, ever, had she experienced such exquisite agony... and joy, at the same time. She killed the building scream, in her throat, because she wouldn't allow him to know that he had subjugated her with an insignificant feather.

The peacock feather, in Jay's hand, danced teasingly on her throbbing clitoris for only a few moments, and just at the point when she was sure she could stand no more of it, the lust-inciting feather was suddenly gone. Then, she felt it trailing up through the fleecy softness of her pubic hair, across her abdomen and out over the flat, white plane of her smooth belly, dipping with a saucy twirl into the shallow depression of her navel and moving out to her groin to tantalize the soft hollows there.

Suddenly, with a broad sweep, the teasing peacock feather was on her breasts, orbiting them in a figure eight, which grew smaller with each evolution, moving upward on the full mounds of her trembling, white breasts, until it circled the crowning, cameo-pink of her hard-coned nipples.

Soft, mewling whimpers began to come, unbidden, from her lips, as the torturing feather, still moist from the dews of her cuntal opening, moved in ever smaller circles, until it proscribed only one of the hardened, erectile nipples, playing on the crinkled flesh of the aureole, then on the pink column of the tiny nipple itself, her quivering breasts set all atingle with the lascivious sensations it generated in them.

Then, Carla found herself wriggling her shoulders, her torso writhing, as she attempted to shove her breasts up against the teasing tip of the feather in Jay's hand. Her body, already crazed with overpowering desire, wanted more... and yet more.

She felt as though she were in a strong undertow, being dragged under water, and she was helpless in its grip. She was aware only of the throbbing ache of her loins that seemed to pulsate, radiatingly into her whole abdomen, the exuded, viscous moisture there making her even more expectant, the anticipation of what she expected to come to her... soon, stabbing excitedly deep into her very being. She couldn't wait any longer, it seemed... before she'd have to have Jay's big cock in her, filling her... fulfilling her... or she'd go out of her mind.

Frantically, her hands clawed upward to the magnificent orbs of her breasts; against her will, she kneaded and massaged them, cruelly, pressing them up from her supine, quivering body, offering them to the torment like a sacrifice.

Conscious control stopped... and she surrendered her body to the total, depraved enjoyment of the sensations the twirling, dancing feather engendered in her whole body that trembled with lewd anticipation.

The teasing feather left her breasts, suddenly, and she felt it trace a salacious path down through the moistly perspirant valley between her mounding breasts to swoop down and downward again to the throbbing pink flesh of her searingly expectant cunt. She gasped with sheer ecstatic joy, as she felt the moist tip of it slide down through her auburn pubic hair, to pause, momentarily, on her clitoris, where the twitching torment of the feather left her breathlessly writhing on the bed.