Chapter 6

The following morning June was awakened by what she thought was the ringing of her old alarm clock at home. God, she felt awful! Her head ached, her mouth was dry and her body felt feverish all over. She must have come down with the flu. She would have to call in sick to the office, and old Mr. Chisolm wouldn't like that one bit. He hadn't been at all pleased when she told him she had to go to New York for a few days...

New York! All the events of the preceding day and night flashed through June's mind, and she sat up so suddenly that the wave of nausea which washed over her made her feel faint. New York! The Bormans! It was all true, she realized, gazing numbly down at the somewhat wrinkled aquamarine comforter which covered her, then around at the spacious room dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the heavy velour curtains. All too true. She had come to the big city, gotten drunk and been seduced by two perfect strangers on the very first day. That must be some kind of an all-time record!

Someone had straightened up the bed covers, she saw. Comforter, blankets, and sheets had all been tangled together the last she remembered them, tangled up like she and Nina and Axel were. God, what had gotten into her? She pressed her wrists into her stinging eyes as if to blackout the debasing images, but to no avail. When finally she opened them again, she noticed a note on the bedside table.

Gone to hairdresser. Back at noon.

They should deliver your suitcase

sometime this morning. Love -

Nina

Love! June sniffed self-pityingly to herself. They had the nerve to call that love... that debauch... that orgy they had tricked her into! She had to get out of there before Nina came back. She peered groggily at her wristwatch - the only thing she hadn't taken off last night - and saw that it was already past ten. She never slept that late. They must have drugged her as well as getting her drunk!

Finally June realized that the persistent ringing in her ears wasn't a side product of her awful hangover but a real bell somewhere. Maybe they had brought her suitcase! Then she could get out of the apartment before Nina came back. Quickly, in spite of the agonizing jolts lancing through her head, she jumped out of bed and put on her skirt and blouse which Nina had neatly folded over a chair. At least she hoped it was Nina who had straightened up the room and not some maid. Oh what difference did it make! she scolded herself angrily as she hurried toward the sound of the bell. One stranger or another... Anyway, there must not be anyone else in the apartment or they would have answered the bell. It wasn't the front door, she saw, so there must be a service entrance somewhere. Swiftly in her bare feet she padded through the dining room, a pantry, then a really sumptuous kitchen with every possible labor-saving device in it, and a whole battery of beautifully polished copper pots and pans.

"Who is it?" she called out hesitantly at the back door. Unfortunately there wasn't any peephole to look out through.

"Suitcase for Miss June Wright," replied a high-pitched tenor voice that reminded her vaguely of the bellboy in the old Phillip Morris ad. "Suitcase for Miss June Wright," it repeated on the same note.

"Just leave it there, please," June said. She had read so many stories about what could happen in New York that she was really afraid to open the door... Even though she didn't see how anything worse could possibly happen to her than already had.

"Sorry, Miss, I need a receipt," the nasal voice insisted.

Reluctantly June opened the door and saw a seedy-looking youth in a shabby grey pinstripe suit much too large for him standing there with her suitcase. There was no mistaking that battered old relic from her summer-camp days. Relieved, she opened the door wider, and he pushed brassily past her into the kitchen, pursing his lips in a silent whistle.

"Some set-up ya got here, Miss Wright," he said, looking her insolently up and down from her bare feet to her still disheveled long black hair. "Looks like I got ya out'a bed, huh?"

"That's perfectly all right," June said in a voice that quavered slightly. He wasn't so young after all, she saw now, noticing the lines around his eyes and mouth, and he certainly was a disreputable-looking character. She had taken him for an adolescent at first because he had positively the worst case of acne she had ever seen in her born days. Big pimples... Uhg! "Just give me the receipt and I'll sign it," she added, doing her best to keep the disgust out of her voice.

"The bag wasn't locked so ya gotta verify the contents first," the man said with a half-witted leer. "I might'a stole a bra or a pair of panties or somethin'. Mind if I get myself a drink?"

Thinking he meant a drink of water, June told him to go ahead and bent down to open her suitcase. The sound of a refrigerator door slamming jerked her head up, and she saw that he was holding a lemon and a can of tomato juice in his hands.

"Put that back!" she snapped at him sharply but he just ignored her and strolled into the pantry.

"Ta-ta-ti-ta," he hummed. "Now don't get your bowels in an uproar, babe. You look like you could do with a little hair of the dog yourself. Have a little party last night?" He rummaged around in the pantry a minute, opening and slamming placard doors, and came out with a bottle of vodka. "A couple of Bloody Mary's are just what we both need to pick us up."

June decided that the best policy would be to say nothing to provoke him and get rid of him as soon as he had his drink, so she kneeled down again and opened her suitcase. The first thing she saw was a brown manila envelope that certainly didn't belong to her.

"What's this?" she questioned irritably, holding up the envelope. "It's not mine."

"Beats me, babe. I'm new on the job," Pimple Face replied, busying himself with mixing vodka, tomato juice, lemon and Tabasco sauce into two tall glasses. "Maybe some forms you gotta fill out."

June opened the flap of the envelope and saw that there were several large glossy photographs in it. Some deep intuition made her draw them out and look at them... They fell from her stricken hands.

Tiffany!

June's eyes blurred with sudden tears, and she sank back on the floor, fighting desperately for self-control. She felt really ill... as if she were about to vomit. The picture she had glanced at showed a completely naked Tiffany hunched down on her knees and elbows being taken from the rear by some weird creature half-man, half-goat, and the expression on her childish face was one of anguished pleasure. Suddenly all the half-formed suspicions lurking in the back of June's mind crystallized with stark clarity. She had fallen into some kind of hideous diabolical trap set by the Bormans. Everything had been carefully planned from the moment her purse had been snatched... No, even before that. The telegram must have been a fake to lure her to New York. For a moment she teetered on the brink of hysteria, then abruptly she felt icily calm. She would show them she wasn't to be so easily defeated. She was going to get to the bottom of this, and before she was through they would all be in jail - the Bormans and everybody else involved, no matter how much money and influence they might have.

"Hey, that's pretty hot stuff, June baby." Pimple Face had drifted over with the two Bloody Marys and was staring down at the top photograph on the floor. With a scuffed toe of a very down- at-the-heel shoe he pushed it aside so that the second shot was visible. This one showed the same scene from a different angle, and June saw that the penis of whatever it was - a man dressed up - as a satyr, she supposed - was entering Tiffany's rectum instead of her vagina as she had thought at first. Well, that was nothing she hadn't seen already.

She looked up at Pimple Face who held out a Bloody Mary to her. Her first impulse was to take the drink and throw it right in his disgusting face, but she decided on the spot to start her investigation with him. He didn't look too bright, and it was obvious the Bormans had hired him to bring the suitcase. She put her glass on the floor beside her and accused him without warning, "You stole my purse yesterday, didn't you?"

"No, but I know the guy who did," Pimple Face grinned down at her unabashedly. "I was standing right there when he did it. Then I followed you here. Then I went and got your pocketbook from the guy who snatched it. Minus the money, natcherly. That's all he was innerested in, but I figure, somebody lives in a swanky dump like this, maybe there's something else in there worth some dough. I didn't know I was gonna find a gold mine. Little sister Tiffany sure likes her cock, don't she?" he added, pushing another photo into view. This one showed Tiffany sucking an enormous penis with an ecstatic expression on her blissful young face.

June wasn't in the least bit fazed. "I suppose you don't know the Bormans," she said sarcastically.

"Never heard of 'em," Pimple Face assured her nonchalantly.

"Then how did you know which apartment I was in?" June was unable to keep a note of triumph out of her voice.

"The doorman told me." Pimple Face shrugged. "As soon as he saw the suitcase, he asked if it was for Miss June Wright, and I said yes and he told me which apartment. He also told me to use the service elevator, the snotty bastard."

June's spirits sank. It made sense. Of course, Nina would have told the doorman that if someone came with a suitcase to send him up to her apartment. She picked up her drink with a hand that trembled slightly and took a sip. Immediately a warm glow radiated through her body. At least one thing Pimple Face had said was true, a Bloody Mary really did pick you up. She took another, longer swallow.

"Your sister may look like she's having a good time in those photos, but she's in bad trouble, babe!" Pimple Face snarled at her suddenly. "It's gonna cost you plenty to get her out of it."

"I - I don't have any money," June faltered. "I don't live here."

"I know you don't live here," Pimple Face snapped at her. "I read the telegram in your pocketbook. But if you got friends who live in classy dumps like this..."

"They aren't friends, they just know me from where I work. I - I'm a secretary." June stammered confusedly. "How do you know all this about my sister anyway? Where did you get those photographs?"

"Shit, I've seen that chick fucking for applause on the stage a dozen times!" Pimple Face snorted. "I recognized her soon as I saw that snapshot in your pocketbook. One gang runs all the sex shows in this town, babe, and I got plenty connexions, so finding out what the story is was easy. I brought those photos to show I'm on the level. You sure you ain't got any money?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing her over. "Maybe - you really don't. That ain't exactly no Christian Dee-or outfit you got on."

"Sex shows... ?" June quavered weakly. "You mean my sister... ?"

"Yeah, she acts in 'em, babe," Pimple Face sneered. "She has to, you better believe it. These guys don't fool around. She don't do right, she ends up in a concrete wedding gown on the bottom of the river. If you got money, you can buy 'em off, but if you don't, there's only one way to get her out'a this mess..." He paused sadistically, enjoying the miserable expression on June's face. "Only one way," he repeated. "You take her place!"

"What!" June clutched her glass and took a long swallow of the potent mixture.

"And for my part in the deal," Pimple Face went on, "I guess I'll just have to take it out in trade. Where do ya want me to fuck ya, babe? Up the ass or in the mouth?"

June was so stunned by the news of the predicament Tiffany had gotten herself into that she didn't really take in the last thing the repulsive creature said. It was hard to believe such things could occur in a civilized country in the twentieth century, but she had read that there were still gangs of men who controlled prostitutes and the awful things they did to the girls if they didn't cooperate, so why not with the poor people in these sex shows. God, what had Tiffany gotten into and how was she going to get her out of it?

Abruptly all the resentment and ill feeling she had harbored against her sister ever since she had caught her with Cliff on the porch that afternoon vanished from her heart, and all she felt was pity and loyalty and, of course, responsibility. She had to get Tiffany out of this mess but she couldn't take her place. It just wasn't possible!

Why not? another part of her mind nagged her. You're older and stronger and smarter than your little sister. You might be able to figure a way out of the situation that she never could...

In a flash June saw the solution. Her heart raced and she drained her drink in one long gulp to hide her exultation. She knew what she would do! When she felt sufficiently calm, she looked up at Pimple Face and said in a deliberately subdued and weepy voice, "All right, I'll do it. I'll take her place."

"Okay, babe. Now what about me?" The implacable man fingered his already bulging crotch suggestively. "I don't put you in contact with your sister until I get my commission. So which way do ya want it, kid?" He nodded toward the photographs.

The queasy feeling in June's stomach was so strong she almost gagged, but her mind was made up. She was going to save her baby sister, and nothing was going to stop her... not even THAT! And it certainly wasn't hard to make a choice. With a little quaking tremor deep in her bowels as she remembered how her father's cane had felt up her rectum, she pointed to the picture of Tiffany and the satyr. At least that way she wouldn't have to see the man's horrible pimply face. She just hoped he didn't have some awful disease. She started to leave the kitchen, but he grabbed her around the waist, and she saw that he was already yanking at his belt.

"We don't have to go nowhere, babe. The kitchen floor will do just fine. Just kneel down there and stick that hot little ass up in the air where Big Daddy can get at it." He leered evilly at her, and June noticed with relief that at least he had nice healthy white teeth. In fact if it wasn't for those horrible pimples all over his face he would be quite good-looking. His hand swarmed suddenly up under her skirt to cup one of her buttocks and she could feel his fingers sliding down her anal crack toward her pussy where he teased her pubic hairs which were still caked and crusted with her dried cum juices from last night. She blushed crimson at the memory of the unwanted but extraordinary climax Axel had brought her to. She'd been trying to block it from her mind ever since she woke up, but now it flooded back over her. In spite of herself her breath began to come faster as Pimple Face pushed his hand farther along her cuntal furrow until he found her hot, hardening little clitoris.

"No panties, eh babe?" he whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry ya hadda wait, kid. It feels like there was some action down there last night, but I guess you're ready for more, huh? Try this on for size." She heard the sound of a zipper, then her hand was guided to his hotly throbbing penis which had popped fully erect into the air. When she felt its surprising girth with her long supple fingers, she couldn't help but look down at it, even though she had resolved not to. God, it was long! Maybe not quite as big around as Axel's but probably even longer although this man was nowhere as tall as Borman. Height must not have anything to do with it, she thought distractedly, gazing in morbid fascination down at the bulging purplish head with its rim which flared out from the long hard shaft like the head of an aroused cobra. God, it was going to hurt! It was at least three times as thick as her father's cane which she had carefully vaselined beforehand... and much, much longer than the paltry three or four inches of cane she had managed to ram up herself before the pain stopped her. It didn't seem humanly possible to take that much hard flesh up inside her rectum. She didn't believe he could even get it in!