Chapter 8

As Carlo walked toward the apartment he shared with Nino, he reflected on the afternoon's tour. As he had expected, it had proved fruitful. Of the eighteen girls he had quickly picked out two: fourteen-year-old Sharon, a slender blonde with a boy's hips and small pointy breasts; and sixteen-year-old Connie, a precocious redhead with the full figure of a mature woman. The rest had been easy.

As the tour had progressed, it became clear that Sharon and Connie were the leaders of a small clique of six or seven girls. They were very interested in Carlo, almost suffocating him with their attention. Dutifully he had droned on with information, pretending not to notice the frenetic flirting. He had been pleased to see that the girls were obviously piqued by his apparently disinterested attitude.

But his opening had not come until they were back at the hotel. As he was leaving Mr. and Mrs. Clark's room after planning the next days tour, one of the hallway doors opened and a finger beckoned. Carlo recognized the giggle coming through the half- opened door. It was Connie.

Eight girls were sprawled around the room. They were in varying stages of undress, supposedly getting ready for dinner. It seemed that Connie had been elected spokeswoman for the group.

"Carlo," she said as soon as he entered the room, we want to ask you something. Can you tell us where we can go to have some fun in this dump? We're sick and tired of this ten o'clock bedtime deal. Anyone would think we were kids! Aren't there any nightclubs or something?"

Carlo lounged against the door, looking slowly around the room. Then he started talking. The situation was tailor-made for him.

Making the necessary arrangements with the girls had been easy. His only problem had been holding them back until the next night. They'd wanted to go right away. But now it was all laid on the line. The following evening, the girls would pretend to go to bed as usual, after dinner. Once they were sure Mr. and Mrs. Clark were out of the way, they'd sneak out of the hotel. Carlo would be waiting for them outside. He had promised them a party they would never forget...

The party though would take considerable planning and there were many telephone calls to be made. He would make them from the apartment, even though this was Nino's night.

He quickened his pace, knowing he had to reach the apartment before Nino. According to their agreement, Carlo had no right to it tonight, should not even be near it! It was one of their strictest rules, one he, himself, had absolutely insisted on. Now he was going to be the first to break it.

But it's important, he argued with himself! If I don't make the calls immediately, it will be too late. I must speak to Marceau tonight. And the Count. And everyone else. The apartment is the only place I dare use.

And anyway, he mused, Nino would probably be late. The way his friend went about working an a girl, he might not get her to the apartment until after midnight. Meanwhile, all that was necessary was a half hour on the telephone. Nothing else!

As he walked, Carlo wondered whether he might not claim one of the school girls for himself. They were attractive, sexy little things. They knew how to arouse a man. At that age they did it instinctively and were exciting in bed without being blase about it.

The pleasure of taking a young girl was something Carlo had not experienced for many months. Not since the summer before, in fact. There had been hundreds of other women in the interim, naturally, almost all of them older than Carlo. There had also been several men, but a job is a job.

The party he was about to organize should be very interesting. The Italian youth was entirely absorbed in his plans by the time he hurriedly opened the street door and strode swiftly through the hall, taking the stairs three at a time. He was so anxious to get to the telephone that he completely forgot to check on the prearranged signal--the open mailbox door which showed whether the apartment was already occupied.

It was not until he reached the apartment landing that he remembered he hadn't checked the mailbox, but by that time he was already inside the door. It was dark in the narrow hallway, but the worried youth didn't need the light. There were two doors leading off the corridor, one at the far end and one on the left- hand side. Both were shut, and no light filtered into the passage. Carlo breathed a sigh of relief. Nino and his girl had not yet arrived.

In two strides, Carlo reached the door on the left, opening into the kitchen. He went straight to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, snapped off the cap and poured out a glassful. He drained 'he beer in a couple of gulps, then refilled the glass. He felt hot and thirsty.

The kitchen was large, simply furnished and had the bleak look common to rooms that are seldom used. A wooden table and four chairs stood under the window. Carlo could not remember a meal ever having been eaten there.

Carrying his glass of beer in one hand, Carlo went back into the hall and then through the second door. This led into a room twice the size of the kitchen, it was furnished as a living room but also served as a bedroom. A double bed was concealed in a piece of furniture that looked like a sideboard and book-shelf unit. There were also three small easy chairs, two large leather armchairs, a velour-covered divan, a bureau, two leather hassocks, a couple of occasional tables and a massive, highly polished wardrobe that dominated one entire wall.

Light came into the room through the long windows in the far wall. A red velvet curtain hung in one corner; behind the curtain another door led into a gold-tiled bathroom.

A magazine lay on one of the small tables; several ashtrays needed emptying. The cushions on the divan were rumpled. The room was definitely not tidy. Yet, cluttered as it was, it did not really look as if it were lived in. It had the atmosphere of temporary usefulness.

Carlo glanced at his watch. Christ! It was seven-thirty. He would have to hurry if he was to get out before Nino arrived. Pulling a key ring out of his hip pocket, he selected the smallest key and fitted it into the lock of the bureau. After taking a leather-covered notebook from inside, he carefully relocked the bureau again.

He sat down beside the cane table on which the telephone stood. "Verner, Verner," he muttered, as he thumbed hastily through his notebook. "Ah." He started dialing a seven-digit number.

"Hello?"

Carlo recognized the voice of Nick, Marceau's valet.

"This is Carlo," he announced himself. "Is Marceau there?"

The valet told him to wait, and it was a full five minutes before Marceau came on the line. Carlo had counted every precious minute on his watch. The conversation began with polite inquires about health, followed by a rundown on the latest San Francisco gossip. The anxious youth contained himself patiently. After several more minutes of social chitchat, he felt the moment was appropriate to broach the subject of the young girls.

"It's a little difficult for me to arrange the party here," Marceau objected at once, as Carlo had known he would.

Carlo ignored the objection.

"There is a young blonde," he murmured softly. "She is barely fourteen, so slim and fair and so fragile..."

"But tomorrow night?" Marceau grumbled pettishly. "Couldn't you have given me more notice?"

"She is a virgin," Carlo went on. "There are others, too. One with hair to her waist and the figure of a child..."

There was a pause. Marceau spoke again, in a slightly thickened tone.

"You realize it's not convenient for me." He cleared his throat, "A blonde did you say? Ah! I need time, you understand. I'll call you back. You seem to think I can arrange a party at a moments notice and entirely at your convenience. I'm a busy man, you know, my responsibilities."

Carlo held the receiver away from his ear; he had heard all these complaints many times before. While Marceau grumbled unconvincingly, the young Italian was already checking through his book for the phone number of the Count. As soon as the aging playboy rang off, he dialed the other number.

The conversation was short and satisfactory. The Count was enchanted to hear from Carlo. A party thrown by Marceau Verner? For a group of young girls? But how delightful! Very young girls? The Count would never forgive himself for not taking the opportunity to pay his respects.

"You'll come alone?" asked Carlo, holding the telephone in one hand while lighting a fresh cigarette with the other.

"Yes. That is--no, no, no." The Count sounded confused. "I have a house guest. From back east. That is all right?"

"Fine." All Carlo wanted to do was finish the call. He didn't care whether or not the Count brought his house guest to the party. "Male or female?" he asked.

"Male."

"Fine."

The phone call finally came to an end. Carlo stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another. He needed to think carefully for a moment or two. Who else should be invited? Marceau always insisted that his little "parties" should be at least outwardly respectable. Which meant that some women had to be included on the guest list. And some young men. Well, Benito would do for one. Then there'd be himself and... and maybe Nino. Sure, Nino! It would serve him right. As for the women... Maria Accari was an old friend of both Marceau and the Count, so she should be invited. She'd probably bring her young friend Sue along.

Again, Carlo checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He considered for a moment. If he remained in the apartment any longer, he would really be pushing his luck. On the other hand the phone calls had to be made at once. He grabbed the receiver off the hook. As he began dialing, he said a silent prayer that Nino was taking things slow and easy.

Half a dozen calls later, the boy stubbed out another cigarette and stood up with a sigh of relief, fully satisfied with the arrangements. He glanced at his watch. It was eight-forty- five.

He pushed the notebook into his jacket pocket. He would not bother unlocking the bureau again. The cigarette smoke didn't matter--the apartment usually smelled of stale smoke. It was unlikely that anyone would notice the traces of his visit.

He was halfway across the living room when a sudden noise made him stop in his tracks. There were footsteps on the landing outside the apartment. He froze, waiting. A key was being turned in the lock of the apartment door! There was a pause... then the sound of Nino's voice came from the far end of the hall.

Sonofabitch! This was bad. Carlo hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but he felt as though he stood, poised, listening and waiting, for an eternity. As his thoughts raced, two salient points were firm in his mind. Nino would be furious if he discovered that Carlo had used the apartment out of turn. Secondly, Carlo's presence might well ruin his friend's whole setup. Nino had told Elaine the apartment was his own bachelor pad; Carlo knew that for a fact. He also knew Elaine was a rich girl. There was only one thing he could do to salvage the situation. He had to hide.

As Nino and Elaine stepped into the hall, Carlo acted swiftly. Two silent steps brought him to the outsized wardrobe. He turned the old-fashioned brass handle and thanked God that the huge doors didn't squeak as they opened. He stepped into the darkness and quickly pulled the doors closed behind him. In the musky black interior of the old wardrobe, all he could hear at first was the thumping of his own heart.

"Oh, but it's a cute place!"

Elaine's exclamation carried quite clearly inside the wardrobe. Instinctively, Carlo turned his head toward the sound of her voice. To his surprise, he found that his hiding place gave him a good view of the lighted room. There was a wide gap where the two wardrobe doors no longer fitted together perfectly. It was wide enough to make him wonder for a moment whether the boy and girl could see in as well as he could see out. Common sense reassured him. He was safe enough, provided he kept quiet.

"You like my apartment?" Nino asked.

"Mmmm, yes. It has great possibilities," Elaine said thoughtfully. "The furnishings don't look quite right, somehow, but if someone took an interest in the decor..."

The young blonde was standing in the middle of the room, looking around her. She was in Carlo's direct line of new. When Nino appeared by her side and put his arm around her waist, she did not resist him.

Carlo found he had enough room to sit down. He lowered himself cautiously, making no sound. When he was comfortably settled, he peered out again.

He appraised the girl as she stood across the room from him, totally unaware of his scrutiny. Nino had switched on one of the lamps; in its light, Elaine's pale-blonde hair gleamed softly. It hung straight to her shoulders, shaking like a silken curtain with every movement of her head. Her skin looked almost translucent in the artificial light.

Nino pulled her closer to him.

"You are very beautiful," he said simply, gazing into her upturned face with a look of utmost sincerity.

She's ready for a fucking all right, thought Carlo, observing the flush of excitement across the girl's cheeks and the brilliant blue of her eyes. He saw her wetly parted lips open.

"No, Nino," she whispered. Her hand pushed feebly at his chest. "No, no..." Her whisper was almost inaudible.

In answer, Nino gripped her more tightly. He bent his head and kissed her full upturned mouth. Carlo watched as the sensually beautiful girl made one last attempt to pull away before she abandoned herself to Nino's embrace. She rose on tiptoe, and her ripely voluptuous body arched backward as the Italian boy bore down on her. His hand groped roughly for her straining upthrust breast; Carlo saw his fingers spread greedily across it.

Suddenly, Elaine twisted violently away from him. She was breathing hard and trembling; unsteadily, she moved back and sank onto the divan behind her. She buried her face in her hands; there was a sound of muffled sobs.

Nino's eyes narrowed as he stood looking at her. Then he took a deep breath and sat beside her on the couch. Gently, very gently, he took her hands away from her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Please, Nino. I don't want... I don't know..." Elaine's voice trailed away. She seemed close to hysteria.

"I love you, Elaine," the boy softly murmured. He dropped a kiss into the palm of her hand. "I love you because you are so beautiful and so wonderful. You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met in my whole life."

From his hiding place, Carlo saw the young divorcee's body begin to relax at the words. Her face became calmer.

"But... you hardly know me... How can you know? How can you tell if you love me?"

He smiled, and put his arm around her again. After a moment, she lay passively against him.

"I knew from the first time I saw you," he said.

Her blue eyes stared into his face.

"Me, too," she breathed, her lush young body quivering with a rapidly growing desire. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her again.

As Nino bent over her, he could see the curve of her thick lashes against her delicate skin. For the first time that evening, he was touched by genuine emotion. Then his lips met hers and he forgot everything except that his physical desire for this blonde girl overwhelmed every other consideration.

His tongue swam into her mouth, and he felt her tongue, trembling, fleeing before his onslaught. Then, imperceptibly at first, she began to respond. The low moan was wrenched from the depths of her soul, and her arms snaked around his shoulders pulling him in closer to her. Their tongues fought a pitched battle for supremacy, then she acknowledged defeat and permitted his tongue to move in and out of her mouth as though it were some incredibly small, overly excited penis.

The darkly handsome youth began using his hands to stroke her back. At first he concentrated on a point just above and inward from the shoulder blades--where he knew the erogenous breastbands lay. Then he moved down to a point on the back just above the soft fullness of her smoothly rounded buttocks--massaging gently, kneading with his fingertips.

She began trembling and moaning low in her throat as Nino's hungrily searching hands moved freely over her back. It was not until he cupped her right breast in his palm that she tried to pull away and protest. The objection lasted less than twenty seconds, and then she seemed to move in even closer to him. During it all their tongues played--chasing, darting, hiding, stroking each other. The youth's left hand moved gently up the back of her dress and found the zipper. He tugged at it, and the soft whisper was lost in her moan. Using his left hand only, he expertly unsnapped her brassiere. She stiffened when she felt the sudden release of pressure against her breasts, and attempted to shake her head. He, however, paid no heed to her unspoken protest. Quickly, as though he were unwrapping a priceless artifact, he peeled the thin cotton material from her left shoulder. The dress now hung suspended by her left breast and her right shoulder. Then, and only then, did his mouth leave hers.

"Nino... we can't..." she began, but then closed her eyes in rapture as his tongue began tracing a wild pattern of sensation down her neck and across her shoulder. Lower, lower his mouth moved until he felt her bra cup against his chin. He simply reached up and pulled it loose. Her creamy breast, like a fully ripened melon, was there before his eyes. In the middle of the areola, her erect nipple stood like a bulging brown ivory tower. With a loud groan of hunger, his voracious mouth fastened itself moistly on the succulent mound of flesh. His groan was echoed by her moan, and tremulously, her hands came up and cupped his head, holding it there in reverence and unconcealed pleasure.

"Nino... oh, Nino," she said, over and over again as his teeth nibbled at the nipple, and his mouth and tongue played havoc with the passion-inflamed nerve ends. After a moment, he reached up with his other hand and slowly pulled down the right cup. His devouring mouth moved over to that side, leaving the left tit shining with his saliva. Now Elaine's dress was held up only by her right shoulder, and she made only a token protest when he slipped the dress all the way down to her waist. Both shoulders were bare and her magnificent naked breasts were revealed to Ins eyes.

Abruptly, his mouth left her nipples and worked its way upward once more. They kissed savagely, and her own hunger was so great that her teeth actually bit into his lips.

Then, suddenly, Elaine felt his hands move away from her body. "What? What..." she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes and saw Nino standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the huge bulge in his pants where his massively aroused penis raged against its confinement.

"Stand up," he said.

"What?" She didn't understand.

"Stand up, baby. I'm going to undress you."

Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then--actually blushing because she was going to have to be a willing participant and net a passive one--she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her dress--already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts were there, shining in tie half-light; and her black panties were rolled halfway down over her smooth alabaster hips.

Nino gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had ever seen b fore could top this--maybe one or two of the Forth Beach dancers he had fucked could come close to matching the body, but never before this combination of body and face. His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, hoarse, all choked up with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful!" He took a step forward, kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure motion, peeled her little black bikini panties down to her ankles. He gently lifted her right leg, then her left, disengaging her feet from the panties, before tossing the nylon undergarment on the couch.

His eyes focused on the nylon hosiery held up by the garterbelt and he decided to leave the stockings and belt on her; the nylons would feel tremendously sensual against his own bare buttocks when she wrapped those long satiny legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked up... up... up, past the tops of the nylon hosiery, and saw and smelled the enticing female aroma coming from the softly pouting lips of her cunt... all pink and shining from her oozing vaginal lubricant. He thought about eating her pussy while she was standing, but some instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch. Even though he had made the decision, he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, working his way from calf to thigh.

Elaine stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge throughout her entire love-hungry young body with each kiss he planted on her nylons. She could feel the heat of his lips through the material of the hosiery could feel the cool rush of air playing over her bare buttocks and breasts. For some reason or other, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came into contact with the nude flesh above the top of her nylons. He rained kisses on both thighs and used his tongue to lick the sleek inner part of her thighs from just above the point where the stockings ended to... to... She stiffened as his lips suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently tugging at her figure to turn her around... obediently she turned, and now his lips were moving over the lower part of her back... and then to her slightly trembling buttocks.

His lips and kisses on her bare flesh had started things happening in her body. She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a violent rhythm of love... as if his penis were actually in there moving in and out. Her full ripe breasts had begun to ache, and her body was beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

Elaine had never felt so weak. So helpless before in her life. She stood there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Nino's hungry lips left her buttocks and he stood upright. The young Italian put his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him again. Their mouths came together hungrily, and his tongue tucked in and out of her mouth rapaciously. Then, still French-kissing, he eased her down onto the couch. She sat, then lay back, face up, as Nino put her legs in the position he wanted them, with one leg on the floor and the other bent at the knee and pressed against the back of the couch.

The young blonde divorcee lay there, mesmerized, as the darkly handsome youth quickly pulled off his shoes and socks, stripped off tie and shirt, and then dropped his pants and undershorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him standing there above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with unconcealed lust. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to broad muscular shoulders, and flat belly, and... and...

The thick rigid penis stood out proudly, like a king's scepter, from his curly patch of black hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to reach out for her. Its huge, lust-bloated head seemed to throb with an unbelievable life of its own.

"Do you like it, baby?" Nino asked softly, watching as her body twisted seductively on the black velour couch... as though she were trying to grind the material into her buttocks. "Christ," he thought, "the way she's looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it off."

"Yes... oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's... beautiful."

Nino knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure, infallible instincts told him that such a thing might be a little premature; later, definitely! But she'd have to be brought along. He just couldn't understand it. What kind of a man had she been worried to? He'd probably never gone down on her... and, if I'm right, never had her sucking on his cock, even though she looks starved for it.

Elaine was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw the boy lower himself onto the couch beside her. His bare hip touched her naked rib cage and she jumped as if seared by a hot brand. His head dipped once again to her fevered breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then the other, into his voracious mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until Elaine wanted to scream out in ecstatic delight. Waves of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire body, and she could feel it from the tips of her jutting nipples to the tips of her toes.

Now Nino's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of lust between her rapidly heaving breast and navel. He kissed and sucked and gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where the hipbone serves as an anchor for supple flesh that flares out to become globes of the buttocks, and his warm wet kisses rained over the sides of her naked young buttocks.

Then abruptly, she was aware that his tongue and mouth were coming back again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling between her outspread thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, then drew a straight uninterrupted line to her sparse, softly curling pubic hair. He breathed hotly into the softness of the golden pelt; it was at that moment Elaine first realized what Nino was going to do next and knew the throbbing target of his fevered lips and tongue.

"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No... that's wrong." It was terribly wrong what he was about to do... perverted, dirty!

Nino heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin inwardly because he knew now, positively, that her husband had never done this to her... for if he had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling between her widespread legs, his fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the wonderful little mouth of sex, all pink and oozing love from the pair of cuntal lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the shrine, he the pilgrim who had traveled a long distance to pay homage.

"No... Nino... please... please..." she moaned. "You can't..."

"I can, baby. Just lie there. I want to do this for you. This is one of the most exquisite things a woman can feel. Lie there, let me do the work for a minute. I'm going to kiss and lick your pussy. Oh, if you only knew how beautiful your little cunt is, how I've wanted to do this for you. I'm going to lick and suck at your clitoris; you'll scream with joy. I'm going to bury my tongue deep into your pussy... and I'm going to suck and lick until you cum."

The salacious words and what they implied, the visual imagery of what was about to happen, caused the love-starved young blonde to begin shaking with a wanton, uncontrollable desire. She was about to permit a degenerate act to be done to her down there between her helplessly open legs... not only permit it, but knowingly encourage it to be done because her body was crying out for it. She knew that her pelvis had felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any minute. Shame, guilt, fear... all disappeared under the tidal wave of shameless lust. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it. His words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so completely at the mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as he did what he said he was going to do... as long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness.

"Oh, Nino..." she whispered, then lay back, feeling the velour scratching against her bare shoulders and tickling the inner crevice of her buttocks. There was a movement on the couch, then the Italian youth said, "Lift your hips." Eyes closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her buttocks. Almost immediately, he began showering her belly with wildly fervent kisses. His hot mouth moved up again to her feverishly straining breasts then to her rib cage; his tongue flicked and quivered all over her upper torso. The naked young divorcee was about to go out of her mind with lust. Her hips had begun grinding a lewdly sensuous circle around and around on the pillow, and her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, she moaned, begging, "Do it... do it to me... please..."

"Do what?" Nino asked, watching her lust contorted face, feeling his cock about to explode from excitement. Christ, she was really turned on now... she was about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn't even started the preliminaries.