Angie fretted, curling her fingers tightly into the hem of her dress. It was the shortest dress she owned and she hated it.

With bare legs exposed and her knees tightly clasped, Angie felt naked and vulnerable. She shifted her weight on the sofa, from one ass-cheek to the other, certain her white underpants were showing. White underpants ... What the hell was I thinking? She felt mortified.

But compared to the other girls sitting around the living-room, Angie could have been mistaken for a nun.

One girl wore a shorty beach-robe that showed off a plump pussy, shaved, and boasting two narrow shims every time she re-crossed her knees. Something she seemed to do more often than necessary.

Another wore a bra and tight jeans, the bra was so lacy that it did nothing to hide the smudge of brown areola. And one girl had her breasts and bum tucked into a see-through camisole. A forth wore midnight blue, satin pajamas with a provocative opening in back presenting a pair of pale round orbs to anyone who cared to look. Or to hold.

There was a knock at the front door and Lottie glanced up from the bar where she was setting out whiskey glasses. She looked to the girl in the beach-robe and nodded.

The girl stood from the sofa, wavered a moment on six-inch heels, then slipped the tie and shucked the robe from her shoulders. Angie felt her stomach slide as the girl, naked except for the killer heels, opened the door and smiled. “Here to party?” she laughed, her smile widening into a come ‘n’ get-it grin.

A couple of college dudes hurried inside, smirks plastered across their stupid fresh faces. The girl made no bones about backing the first into the wall, her hand roaming across the front of his slacks, even before the door closed.

Angie knew what the girl was up to. The boy was young and clean and might be the catch of the evening. So the girl had placed dibs on him. The next guy through the door might be old, sweaty, and hang a gut that would be the envy of a sumo wrestler. Why wait for something better to come along: A bird in the hand, as they say.

Charming, Angie thought as she saw the kid lick his lips and reach for a tit. What the Christ am I doing here? If Rick finds out, I can kiss my engagement ring good bye. But Rick was safe, sitting in third baseline seats at a Yankee’s game, while Angie was doing her best to disappear between the seat cushions of Lottie’s sofa. What guy would pick me over these other hot fucks, she hoped, just before another knock resounded from the front door.

The guy had sales written all over his plaid jacket. Really, a plaid jacket? Where in hell, in this day and age, could a man buy a plaid jacket? And why would he want to.

Angie ignored him, was just turning a cold shoulder when the guy’s eyes came up. “Oh no...”

Angie pretended not to notice. Surely he would rather put an arm around one of the younger girls.

Why me? She thought as he elbowed his way past the college dudes and headed toward the sofa. If he calls me little-lady, I’ll puke on him.

“Hey little-lady,” he stuck out a hand, “names Earl Swank.” Angie guessed it had taken him most of the afternoon to come up with the name. “I’m head honcho down at A-1. You call when you’re in the market for wheels. Ask for ol’ Earl. I’ll set you up.”

“I’m Angie,” she returned and tried her best at a smile. “Thank you, Earl. Nice jacket.”

He puffed. “You bet, miss. Good threads are getting harder to find.”

“My, is that real polyester? Not the fake stuff...”

He rolled back on his heels. “One-hundred percent. I get these shipped in from my dealer in Indonesia. Say, can I get you a drink?”

Oh God yes! “That would be very nice, thank you, Earl. Vodka and a touch of soda.”

He was back a moment later, handed across a glass and plopped down. Angie had to pay for his chivalry by enduring a sweaty palm on her knee. “You know what I like about you, Angie? You don’t look the type.” And he emphasized his point by lifting his hand and patting her leg, on a spot a couple of inches closer to her crotch.

“Look at these other girls,” he continued. “They’re so fake. But you, you could be a university student. Or maybe a nurse or something.” He patted her leg again, higher up.

Angie gulped at her drink. “Yeah. Or something...”

“You sittin’ all sweet and prim and proper. But I bet you’re a real tiger in bed. A wild bitch. I can always tell.”

My fiance doesn’t think so. Angie tried to look interested.

“I’ll bet you even like anal.”

My God ... unbelievable...

“Not many girls do, you know.” His hand was on the move again.

“Imagine,” Angie’s face fell expressionless. “I mean, it feels so ... earthy.”

Earl grinned, his fingers up under the hem of her dress, now. It would mean a change of direction but one more pat for emphasis and it would be on her pubis.

“Is there somewhere we can go?” He toyed with the edge of her panties.

Angie’s eyes came up. “Gee, not really. This is a party.”

“A party?” He scoffed. “Take a look around, for god-sake.”

Angie glanced across the room. Lottie was still behind the bar, but working topless now. Her ponderous breasts swayed as she cracked a couple of Buds. One of the girls stood waiting, a tray proped on a hip. She wore cute athletic shorts, white knee-high socks and sneakers. Her small nude tits, like thorns, were sharp enough to take an eye out.

About a half-dozen more guys had arrived and the music was louder. The girl in the bra had stripped off her jeans and was slow dancing with one of the other girls while a man seated behind ran his hands over her ass and up between her thighs.

“Party, huh?” Earl pointed.

On the sofa opposite, the beach-robe girl had kicked off her shoes and stood on the cushions, straddling one of the college students. She was rubbing her puss in lithe circles across his face in time to the music. And beside them, the girl in the bottomless pajamas was bent over the arm of the sofa, bum arched in the air. The second college kid held her buttocks apart and was licking her ass clean.

“Okay,” Angie said and feeling defeated, she shrugged, “maybe I could help you out, a little.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Earl smiled like he’d just sold a Chevy, “you’re so cute, yuh know?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna feel me? I mean, it’d be okay, if you wanted to.”

“I like a bit of skin.”

“I know ... I know...” and Angie lifted slightly, just enough so he could work her panties free from her ass and slip them along her thighs. “That better?”

Earl snuggled close and sucked at the side of her neck. “Much.” And he ran a hand up between her legs.

Angie opened her knees a little and, checking to see if anyone was watching, she placed a hand on the front of his slacks. She felt movement and worked her hand forward and back.

Earl groaned and wiggled a finger, an attempt to separate the opening into Angie’s vag. “Sorry. I’m a bit dry,” Angie apologized and spread her thighs wider. “I got some K-Y here.” She gave his cock a squeeze bye-bye and reached for her handbag.

Normally she would have sought privacy in the bathroom but no one seemed to notice or care. She unscrewed the top of the tube. “You wanna watch?”

Earl’s eyes glassed-over. He nodded and Angie’s breath quickened. She squeezed clear gel along a fingertip then, checking the room once again, she lifted her dress.

She had the most delicious cunt Earl had ever seen on the hoof. The pubis protruded from her skinny hips, a smooth, tapered wedge that supported two crescent-shaped rolls. Fleshy but firm, they were divided up the middle by a tight, perfectly straight, cleft. The hair covering her mound was long and lustrous.

He watched Angie place a hand alongside the shadowy groove and pull to the side. There was a tiny s-smuch sound as the lips parted and inside he saw two delicate petals. Angie swiped goo between, then relaxed her hand.

“Don’t stop.”

“What?”

“You said I could watch. Don’t stop.”

Angie realized what he wanted and spreading the lips of vagina between splayed fingers, she began the tight circular movements about her clitoris. The swirling press did little to arouse her desires but she got a certain satisfaction when she heard him sucking in breath, shallow and fast.

The air around them suddenly felt close, leaving Angie weak and hesitant. She looked. Several of the other men had picked up on the musk gathering in her corner of the room and were watching, their eyes fired with greed. Angie felt her spine shrink and the heat rose up from her chest. She felt exposed, naked, cleaved open to satisfy the men’s hunger, but with no other defense, she hid behind closed eyes.

“Let me.”

The words broke through her emotional wall. She turned her face away and knowing others were watching, she leaned back and lifted, her knees hanging open. In the channels of her mind she saw the room come to a standstill. The men pushing– crowding in to watch her vagina being wrenched open, invaded by a stranger’s fingers. She imagined hands on her body, forcing her down, tearing at her clothing and a torrent of tongues and teeth, the heat of skin on skin, and cocks ripping and tearing into every bodily crevice.

He pressed hard, two fingers working deep inside. There’s a sluching sound – sluch, sluch, sluch as his arm pumped. Her life slowed, grinds to a halt, meaningless. She is only there for the men.

His tongue is in her ear. “Make me cum.” A breathy command she feels obligated to obey. With eyes still closed, she feels for him. She is startled to find he has already exposed himself and is pushing into her hand.

She grips him.

Encircling the foreskin, she matches his thrusting, stroke for stroke. She hears the breath forced from his lungs, the murmur from deep within his throat. And suddenly there is pumping. The stuff runs everywhere. Filling her hand. Squeezing out from between her fingers. Running down her wrist. Dripping from her arm. Splattering her cunt and thighs.

“Eat it,” he says.

She feels the emptiness, the hunger in her throat. “Yes,” she says and puts her fingers into her mouth.

“That was quite the performance, earlier.” It was three in the morning and Lottie was showing Angie to the front door.

“Which man?” Angie spat. “There were three of them. And I danced with that girl. The naked one who kept kissing me and lifting my dress. Holding me by the ass.”

Lottie smiled and lightly ran her fingertips along the outside curve of Angie’s breast. “Mmm. You had a busy evening.

“Don’t.” Angie turned away avoiding the woman’s fingers. “Don’t touch me.”

“And you made a cool one-thousand for your trouble.” Lottie continued, passing an envelop to Angie with one hand and rubbing her between the legs with the other. “Let’s hope Rick doesn’t find out there were men at the party.”

Angie recognized the threat and shot Lottie a hateful look. “That’s what it’s all about with you, isn’t it? It’s not the sex, or the money. It’s the manipulation of people’s lives, you enjoy. Admit it for once. These girls? They attend your parties, not because they want to. But because they have to. They bend to your wishes because they know if they don’t, you’ll put the screws to them. And you love that.”

Lottie wasn’t phased. “They’re hookers. All of ‘em. But I get a bang outta watching you squirm.” She squeezed Angie’s cunt, digging fingers in. “Next party is in two weeks, Angie. Be on time or I’ll call Rick, to ask him where you are.”

Detective Sargent Tomasina Vencenzi took the call.

“I got a rape victim.” Tommy listened to Sharon Secco from upstairs. “I need you to follow up.”

“Rape? But we’re homicide.”

“Yes. But the victim is blubbering about a multiple murder,” Sharon replied. “And that’s homicide.”

Tommy picked up a pencil. “Details?”

“It’s sketchy. Her name is Angela May, twenty-two. She’s at Mercy. She’s talking about a man with a gun and a home invasion. Some people got shot.”

“Where? Did we get a call?”

“Nope. And that’s all I know, until you report back. Get down to Mercy and see if the doc will let you in. She might be a mess. I don’t know, but grab a car and find out what you can.”

“Got it.” And Tommy disconnected.

Mercy was a ten minute drive– thirty in early morning traffic. Tommy pulled into the Emergency drive and parked on the yellow line.

“Ah, Detective. We’ve been expecting someone from the Department,” the receptionist said. “Just a sec.” And she picked up the intercom. She spoke into the receiver, listened, then looked up. “Doctor Evans. You know the way?”

Tommy nodded and headed toward the stairs.

She found Evens behind her desk, thumbing through her report. “She was admitted last evening, around ten o’clock. Angie arrived by cab. She looked disheveled, there was blood splatter, and she had some light bruising in the vaginal tract. We took samples of the blood and the semen we found. Everything’s at the forensics lab.”

Tommy leaned in. She was admitted at ten, yesterday evening? And we just now got the call?”

Evans sat back in her chair. “We reported a rape, last evening. Angie didn’t start talking about a shooting until this morning. That’s when I called Homicide.”

Tommy nodded. “How’s she doing?”

“Physically she’s fine. Mentally? Who knows. It’ll take time.”

“Can see her?”

Evans pushed her chair back. “I’ll walk you over. Introduce you.”

Angie had a private room. She was propped up in bed and wore sunglasses, even though the drapes were pulled across. “This is Detective Vencenzi,” Doctor Evans made the introductions. “She has a few questions for you, Angie. Don’t tire yourself. The Detective will understand.” Evans excused herself.

“Detective Ven ... Ven-chen...”

“Call me Tommy. If you’re up for it, tell me about the shooting. It hasn’t been reported.”

Angie buried her face in her hands. “It was horrible. Those poor girls, my friends, all of them.”

Tommy pulled out her notepad. “What girls, Angie? What happened?”

“My God. We were just out for a few drinks, yuh know? We went back to Lottie’s place after. There was a knock at the door and Lottie got up to answer it. The guy shot her in the face. Right in the doorway. Killed her like she was nothing better than a fuckin’ roach.” Angie lifted her sunglasses and swiped the corner of an eye.

“Go on,” Tommy encouraged her.

“He booted Lottie outta the way, closed the door and pointed the gun at us. I thought that was it. That I was going to die. He lined us up, all us girls. And he took his time, looking us over and changing our order in the line. It took a minute to realize, but he was lining us up in the order of who he liked the best. Penny wasn’t the prettiest, but she stood five foot-nine and had a pretty body. She ended up at one end and I was at the other.”

Angie heaved and Tommy passed her a glass of water. “Go on...”

“Oh God. He pulled me from the lineup and stood me at the other end. In front of Penny. He told me to kiss Penny on the mouth and ... and ... Oh geez ... And say good bye to her. I did it. I kissed Penny and said good bye and then he shot her. In the head. Right in front of me.”

Tommy’s pencil trembled as she made a note.

“He moved me to the next girl, Linda I think. He told me to kiss her and say good bye. They’re all dead, Tommy. He shot all of them. All four of them. And then ... then he got me down on the carpet. And that’s when ... oh God ... he did me.”

“He forced you to have sexual intercourse? And ejaculated in your vagina?”

Angie turned her face to the wall. “Yes. I thought I was dead. But when he finished, he wiped himself and left. Left me there, laying next to my friends.”

“I know this is a bad time for you, Angie, but I need an address. Where can I find your friends?”

“It’s a fuckin’ mess in there,” the uniformed officer warned Tommy. “The CSV van arrived ten minutes ago and Doctor Reid is on his way.” Tommy looked up at the old duplex. This was the backside of Manhattan, off West Side Highway and by the City Docks where socialites feared to tread.

Tommy went up a set of crumbling steps and nodded to a second uniform standing by an open door. She stepped through.

The body of a woman lay just over the threshold. It was difficult to determine her age, her facial features had been burned and blown to shreds by a close-up, gun blast. Beyond, there were more bodies, strewn execution-style, in a ragged row along the end wall. Knees and elbows poking up at awkward angles.