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The Associate

By: toepicdic



I stood at the register in Wal-Mart. The cashier handed me 'the register closed sign' to put on the end of the belt. She was an older woman, probably about fifty. That was fine since I was fifty-four. Her hair was full and red, that I liked.

"Done for the day." I said.

"I get off in fifteen minutes. I really need to find someone to get in trouble with." She said smiling at me.

I had heard that line before. I pulled out a pen and paper and wrote my address down. I handed it to her.

"What's this?" She asks looking at it.

"My address, I could use some trouble too. I live alone and it gets boring sitting home alone all-day." I said.

"Interesting it takes balls to invite a strange woman to your home." She said.

"No guts, no glory." I stated.

"Ok, I'll see you in about twenty minutes, be ready for some hardcore fun." She said.

"Woman, My wife died over a year ago. It has been a long year." I smiled at her. I loaded my groceries into the cart and wheeled them out to the car. I loaded them and drove home. I had just finished putting them away when the doorbell rang. I opened the door, she stood there waiting. I invited her in.

"I brought the booze." She said.

I got two glasses from the cupboard; she opened the bottle of Jack and poured us a drink. I closed all the blinds and locked the front door. Three drinks later, she was removing clothing. She stood the in her bra and panties. She looked damn good for a woman of fifty. Large tits, slim waist and full hips, her ass looked firm.

"You need to lose the cloths. You are not going to shock me. Shit, man we are old. I know I look good for my age. But you seem to be in good shape also." She said.

"I walk a lot, breaks the boredom." I said removing my shirt and pants. I stood there in my boxers. She knelt in front of me and pulled them down.

"Wow, that thing is not small, it's not massive but shit." She said then wrapped her lips around my cock. I moaned, "Shit, it's been awhile since anyone has touched me." I said. I ran my fingers into her hair. I held her as I slowly pumped my cock into her mouth. She pushed her lips down my shaft taking the whole thing into her mouth. She pulled from my cock and lifted it up. She took one ball into her mouth and sucked on it. She popped it out and did the other one. I moaned again.

She said, "So you know, I was a street walker for several years. Don't worry I am clean. I passed my HIV test. So I know how to fuck a man."

"Fine, woman, back to it then that feels damn good." I said.

"Jackie, my name is Jackie Sanders." She said.

"Nice to meet you Jackie, I'm Robert Mead. I'm a fucking machine, my wife used to call me the marathon fuck." I said.

She ran her tongue over the head of my cock, my knees about buckled.

"Let's move to the couch, I can't stand here and enjoy this. I just might fall from the sensations." I said.

She released me and stood. I kissed her and pulled her to the couch. I sat on one end and she lay across the couch. Her head in my lap, she pulled my cock back to her mouth and sucked on it. I got my right hand on those large tits. I pull them out of her bra and pinched her nipples. She shrieked I pulled on her tits grabbing a handful. She moaned on my cock. I leaned to the right and slid my hand into her panties, she was wet. I found her clit and flicked it a while. Her legs parted and I pushed two fingers into her pussy. I drove my fingers in and out while she sucked my dick. She started humping her ass to meet my fingers. This kept up for a while finally she pulled from my cock.

"Gawd, fuck me now." She cried.

I stood and moved to the other end of the couch. She squirmed up a little and removed her bra and panties. I crawled between her legs and fingered her some more. I then guided my cock to her cunt; she had her legs spread wide. My dick found her wet hole and slid in. She was tight, wet and hot. I pushed deep into her. She screamed, "Holy fucking shit, fill my cunt with that meat."

I drove my cock until it couldn't go deeper. I started to fuck her, pulling out and pushing my cock back in. She clawed at my back it felt good but hurt like hell too. I fucked her hard, keeping a steady pace. My cock tore at the walls of her cunt, she spasmed shortly as she came. I drove my cock into her harder. 

"Fuck me, please make me cum more. Fuck me all night long." She begged.

I kissed her, I bit at her neck. I sucked on her tits leaving marks.

"No, no marks, my husband might see them." She said.

"Your married?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's in a nursing home dying of brain cancer, most of the time he doesn't know who I am. Forget that, fuck me silly." She cried. 

I returned to fucking her, slow and easy, deep and hard. She was sounding off like an alarm. Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, on and on she sang that tune. Her mind was gone. My cock was driving her mindless. I pumped her for over an hour.

"I need a position change, my back is getting sore." I said.

"I'll ride you a while." She said. So I pulled out, she rolled off the couch and I turned and lay down, she quickly straddled my hips driving my hard cock back into her cunt. She bounced on my body, jamming my cock deep into her twat. She was rubbing her clit at the same time. She started cumming, she returned to her tune of, "Oh, Oh, Oh." Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed and her mind in ecstasy. She stayed that way for some time. She finally increased her rate of bouncing on my cock. She screamed and fell over onto my chest. Her breathing was hard and shallow, she whimpered. She brought her right hand up to my mouth and pushed her fingers into my mouth. They tasted of her cunt, sweet and thick.

"Thank you, I have not been fucked like that in over a decade." She said.

"My turn, get on your knees on the couch, your butt hanging out over the edge of the couch." I said.

"What are......Oh, shit, you want my ass." She realized.

"The tightest hole a woman has to offer." I said.

"Go easy, it's been a long time since anyone has fucked my ass. My husband wouldn't do it." She said.

"I will remind you what it feels like." I said.

She knelt on the couch, her head in the cushions. I squirted some gel on her asshole and some on my cock. I fingered her ass first, loosening it up some. I spread her wide open. Slowly I pushed my hard cock into her tight asshole. She cried, "Fuck, slowly give me time to adjust."

I moved slowly, easing in a little at a time. Her rectum opened for me, the head popped in. She sucked air with the feeling. I pushed until my hips were against her buttcheeks. I waited for her to adjust to the meat in her ass.

"Do it, start fucking my bunghole." She said.

I pulled back, and then pushed in, in and out slowly at first. As my speed increased she started to sing again. She was going to enjoy this as much as I was. Soon I was pounding her into the couch, she was thrusting back to meet my cock. She came. She lowered her head and cried as she came. Her shriek was high and piercing, she continued for several minutes. I filled her ass full of hot cum. She moaned at the warmth in her bowels. I pulled from her and sagged to the couch and sighed. I sat on the end of the couch smiling.

"Feel better." She asks.

"Much" I said, "You, how did you enjoy it?"

She got up and dressed, "Enough that I will call you I promise, we will do this again."

"I sure hope so." I said.

She went out the door. I sat there smiling knowing she would call and soon.

The Associate



We were all young associates in a major international law firm. We worked in the Houston office of the huge firm. We were all in our early to middle 20s and single. We worked like dogs and were highly paid. We officially were supposed to bill 40 hours of our time each week to clients. However, it took 50 or 55 hours of work to bill 40 hours a week and 40 hours a week was the bare minimum. You really needed 50 to 60 billable hours a week to advance. It was a stressful life.

I hung out with friends at the firm who were around my age. We all worked like crazy, but had fun after hours drinking and finding entertaining things to do. Most of us would go on casual dates, but the random people we dated did not become part of the group. 

Our core group was about 5 guys, one girl and one guy's serious girlfriend. Some part of the group would do something most every night. On weekends, most everyone would join. 

The girl in the group was like Elaine on Seinfeld. Everyone liked her, but nobody dated her. She was funny and one of the guys. She could hold her own with the guys, drink heavily and could tell dirty jokes as well as any of the guys.

Her name was Karen Naboob although she would answer to any number of nicknames including our favorite, Nabs. She did not appreciate the nickname, Boobs. 

Nabs was 25 years old and was cute. She came from a Lebanese American family and looked the part . She had thick black hair, dark eyes and was only about 5 feet tall. She had nice round breasts on her very short frame, but she did nothing to show them off. She had a beautiful smile and was laughing most of the time.

Karen came from a wealthy family and always dressed very nicely and conservatively. She was a brilliant lawyer from one of the top law schools in the country. We had never seen her on a date, but she did not seem to care. Her family was from Lebanon originally, but they had been in America for generations and she was 100% a Texan.

I had been hanging out with this same group for a couple of years. I was dating some attractive women, but I avoided any type of commitment. I liked to take out my sailboat for cruises most weekends when I wasn't working.

I had a great, 40 foot sailboat, but the problem was that I could not safely sail it alone. I needed at least one person to come with me to help. Consequently, I was always looking for someone to go sailing. All of my buddies liked to go, but most of the time it was a full day commitment and It was hard to line up a partner because we all had to work at least part of each weekend.

Nabs liked to go and she would frequently go with me. We spent a lot of time together sailing in the gulf and drinking beer. We had a lot of fun, but I can honestly say that I did not have one romantic thought about Nabs for years. She was a friend and coworker and nothing else. 

She was little, cute and funny, but I was attracted to beautiful, busty, tall women. I was also attracted to bimbos who dressed in sexy clothes. My friends made fun of the low IQ required of any of the girls I took out. 

Nabs just never even came up on my radar screen. I also had no thought that she would be even slightly interested in me except as a friend.

One Sunday, Nabs and I took the boat out for a long sail. The weather was perfect and the wind was good, so we sailed for a long time. We also drank a ton of beer while we enjoyed the day. 

Nabs was wearing a white t-shirt and some shorts. I have no idea what came over me. Maybe, it was the great day we had just had or maybe it was the beer, but while Nabs was helping me below deck back at the dock, I kissed her.

I gave her a passionate kiss with no warning. As I stuck my tongue in her mouth, I was thinking that she was going to get pissed off and hit me any second now. Instead, she immediately stuck her tongue in my mouth. The kiss was surprisingly hot.

Next, we leaned back into some spare sails that had not yet been stowed and I took another chance by reaching up slowly and squeezing one of her boobs. I was sure she was going to shut this down, but I did it anyway. 

To my surprise, she didn't tell me no and did nothing to stop me from fondling her boob. She just kept sticking her tongue in my mouth. I was pleasantly surprised by the hot kiss and the large round boob in my hand.

Nabs broke off the kiss and I was sure this was going to be the end of our little fling. But, instead, she apologetically told me that she left her birth control at home and that I should follow her home.

I managed to say, "Sure, that would be great!"

However, I was thinking, "Holy shit! Nabs wants to fuck! I laid down a bunt with little hope it could work and now the third base coach was waving me in!"

I set a new record in putting up my gear. Neither Karen nor I said another word about the kiss or fucking or me coming to her house until we were getting in our cars. I figured that she would sober up and change her mind, but as we were leaving, she said, "Are you coming to my house?"

I was thanking my lucky stars as I said, "Sure, I will see you there."

During the hour long drive home, I thought that Karen would get cold feet or otherwise come to her senses and that we would have a laugh about her tricking me into thinking we were going to have sex. By the time I arrived at her house, I was completely convinced that no sex would occur. I even doubted that I had heard her right.

As I arrived at Karen's house, she met me at the door. It was just like always, "Hey, Nabs!"

She smiled big and said, "Hi, come in and have a seat. I will be right with you."

I was sitting on the couch by myself for a few minutes convinced that the sex was a dead issue and wondering where Nabs had gone. 

About that time, Karen came out of the back of the house wearing a long white nightgown. It was not a sexy or nasty nightgown, but it was a nightgown. I could tell that she was not wearing a bra under the gown. The outline of her round breasts and nipples were visible through the gown. Her nipples were hard.

I thought she would join me on the couch for some more kissing, but instead she grabbed my hand and led my back to her bedroom. The bedroom was dark and Karen did nothing to turn on any of the lights. I thought to myself that she must be shy or probably inexperienced.

When we arrived in her dark bedroom, Karen gently began to remove my clothing starting with my shoes and pants. When I was naked, she quickly slipped out of her gown and lay down on her bed on her back.

Her tits looked nice and round. They bounced as she got situated. She had thick black hair around her pussy. 

I started to go down on her to warm her up, but she stopped me very abruptly. She also stopped an effort to put my cock in her face. I was a little surprised that she seemed to have no interest in oral sex. It did not fit with her open, easy attitude about life.

Instead of any kind of foreplay, she spread her legs and pulled me down on top of her. We hadn't even kissed since we arrived at her house. My buddy Nabs just wanted to be fucked.

I got over her in the missionary position when I felt her hand wrap around my hard, thick cock. Her touch was gentle and nice and she directed my hard cock into her pussy. She was soaking wet and my cock quickly slipped inside. My cock is pretty big and thick and I have a hard time entering many women, but her pussy just devoured my cock. Her pussy was both extremely wet and tight.

Words are not going to do justice to describe what I experienced. Nabs enveloped my entire body with hers as I fucked her. Her pussy felt soft and inviting. Her arms and legs seemed to surround me. I felt like she put every bit of effort and concentration possible into giving me pleasure. It was awesome!

I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. She took my cock with a low groaning, moaning sound. I absolutely loved it! We fucked for a long time and then I exploded into her soft pussy. I again tried to go down on her, but she told me that she had already had an orgasm. 

I had never been fucked like that. I am not sure what she did with her body, but it was different from any other girl I had known and the feeling was tremendous.

We did not have any romantic pillow talk afterward. We lay in bed and I felt her big round boobs and gave her shit for hiding them so well every day. She laughed and seemed to enjoy the attention her chest was getting.

Eventually, I went home and wondered what just hit me. I had been dating a tall, sexy fashion model, but sex with little Nabs was twice as much fun as sex with the model.

I woke up the next morning early and was horny for Nabs. I could not think about anything else. 

She usually slept late and then worked late at the office. I took a chance and called her early in the morning long before she would normally go to work. 

I woke her up and asked if I could come by and see her. 

Sounding like she was coming out of a coma, she mumbled, "What time is it?"

"About 6:30," I replied.

"You know I don't get up this early and you are calling me to see if you can come visit?" Nabs asked in a groggy voice.

"Well, yeah. I wanted to see you before work." I said lamely.

Nabs then said without any hint of humor, "What do you want to do when you get here?"

I had not expected that question, so I stumbled around saying something like, "Oh, I was just sort of thinking . . . after yesterday . . . well I was hoping . . . ."

Nabs laughed at my smooth reply and said, "I can't believe how horny you are. Come on over. I will leave the back door open for you."

Nabs met me in her bedroom in a t-shirt that showed off her nice cleavage and her panties. We immediately began to pull off our clothes and fuck in that magical missionary position again.

The morning fuck was as awesome as the night before.

This began a month of frequent, incredible fucking. We never went on a date(or even thought about it). We did not let anyone know we were fucking. It would have been awkward at work and awkward with our friends. We didn't really discuss these things, we just both did them.

Also, there was not one romantic word exchanged between us. It would have embarrassed both of us if we said something loving. So, we just fucked. 

I tend to be oblivious about the feelings of women. It is not that I don't care, I just don't always pick up on social cues. My brother used to have to tell me when women wanted to date me. I honestly didn't notice.

Anyway, I did notice a few cool changes in my buddy Karen. She never said no to sex with me. This went even beyond the norm because she would assume that if I kissed her or fondled one of her big round boobs or grabbed her little ass that I wanted to cum inside her right then. 

For instance, if I grabbed one of her boobs at work, she would start trying to figure out way to get us immediately to her house to fuck. It happened every time. I felt flattered every time.

The other change was that I started to see cleavage. I had known Karen for several years and I had never seen her show any cleavage whatsoever. Even in evening gowns she did not show any cleavage. I don't think her swim suits showed any of her boobs. 

After we started fucking and she figured out that I really liked her nice round tits, every top she wore outside of work showed some cleavage. Some showed a lot of cleavage. Seeing the tops of her round tits and her sexy cleavage made me horny every time. This led to a lot of fondling of her boobs which, as I mentioned, led to immediate fucking.

By the way she never stopped me when I wanted to fondle her boobs. She seemed to like being groped even if we were almost in public or somewhere that we could be seen or caught.

During all of this time, we never had oral sex of any kind. I love to give and receive oral sex. Karen avoided it completely. I became convinced that she had some sort of hang-up about it. However, the fucking was so good, I did not really care.

Nabs refusal to give or receive oral did not seem to fit with her personality or her giving nature as a sex partner. It had me bewildered, but she would not budge. We never really talked about it, but she would just refuse if I tried to start any oral sex either way.

After about a month of fucking my friend, Karen, I asked her to roll over as we got ready to fuck. I loved her version of the missionary position, but I thought a little doggy style might be fun. 

At first, she said no. But, I said, "Come on, Nabs. It will be fun."

She finally said okay and rolled over to show me her little ass in the doggy position. She looked so small on her knees with her ass up. My cock was hard as a rock.

I entered her from behind and fucked her hard. I liked the idea of fucking a brilliant lawyer from behind in such a submissive position. It was fun, but was not as exceptional as our normal fucking sessions. She seemed to like it too.

After we were finished, I whispered to her, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Nabs giggled and said, "No, that was fine. I thought you wanted to do something else and I was afraid you were too big for me."

After a second or two for that to sink in, I said, "Hold it. When you rolled over you were saying it was okay to have anal sex with you?"

She looked amazed that I did not understand that in the first place and replied, "I had not thought of it that way, but yes I was ready for you to take me anally."

She laughed as I desperately asked for a rain check. I was pretty sure that my friend was going to let me fuck her in the ass! 

I was so excited about the prospect of butt fucking Karen I was afraid that I would say the wrong thing and she would change her mind about taking my dick in her ass. I ended up stuttering and stammering until she started laughing at me trying so hard to arrange for another time to have anal sex.

I had only had anal sex once and that was with a whore on a sailing trip to South America. I wore two condoms and enjoyed it as sort of a power trip. Anal sex with a conservative, first class lawyer was obviously completely different and much more exciting.

We returned to our routine of slipping off and fucking until one weekend when Karen asked me to help her set up for a party. I had not yet tried anal sex with her even though I now knew she would let me fuck her in the ass. I was looking for a good time to try it on her. Truthfully, I probably needed to be drunk to try it with my friend even though she seemed willing. I did not want her to think I was a pervert or something. 

Karen was going to have a party at the home of her parents. She needed some help moving furniture to get ready for the party and she asked me to help. 

When I arrived at the house, it was just the two of us. I started moving furniture when I became distracted by the nice cleavage Nabs was showing. I knew the low cut blouses and sweaters could not be a coincidence.

I came up behind Karen and grabbed both of her big breasts. She moaned slightly and let me feel her up.

"I didn't plan on this," she moaned. "I don't have my birth control with me."

I was thinking that I would just have to fuck her later when she grabbed my hand and led me to her parents' bedroom.

She told me to get undressed and lay on the bed. Of course, I followed instructions. I was on my back, naked with my already hard cock sticking straight up. Then, to my great surprise, Karen crawled up on the bed still fully clothed and gently cupped my balls. I was still trying to figure out what was going on when Karen engulfed my entire cock with her mouth. 

I have never been more surprised. First, I thought she didn't like oral sex. Second, no girl had ever come anywhere near taking all of my cock in her mouth. I could not believe how good it felt. 

I could not resist raising up a little and looking. I looked down at my crotch and saw Karen's lips at the base of my cock with my pubic hair in her face. She looked up as she bobbed slowly on my dick and our eyes met with most of my dick down her throat.

It was awesome! My cock is pretty long and thick, but this little girl had it down her throat. It felt as good as her pussy. Nothing but her mouth ever touched the shaft of my cock. She kept one hand gently on my balls and was sucking up and down on the base and lower half of my dick.

I should have been happy with the deep throat blow job, but I even went further and started thrusting my cock into her mouth. I thought sure she would gag, but she just took it. I kept thrusting up harder and harder and she just took it. 

Before too long, the excitement of getting deep throated by a girl who I thought did not suck cock was too much for me. 

I said, "Karen, I am cumming!"

I warned her because I still did not know what she thought about oral sex. But, instead of coming off my cock, she went all the way to the base of my cock and sucked for all she was worth. I shot stream after stream of cum down her throat with a loud groan.

She kept my dick in her mouth until she was sure I was finished. Then, she came up and hugged me with her head on my chest. Her face was red or maybe a little blue. She was huffing and puffing trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were watering and she had saliva or cum on her face. I had never seen a woman so winded and exhausted from any kind of sex.

I was amazed by the way she put everything she had into my sexual satisfaction. I had never experienced anything like it. It literally took her about five minutes to catch her breath and return to a normal color.

I told her over and over that she was amazing. Then, curiosity got the best of me and I said, "Clearly, you have done this before, Nabs. Why did you refuse to have oral sex before now?"

She got a little embarrassed and said, "Every time I do this to a guy, it is all he ever wants to do."

As I lay there completely spent from her blow job, I thought, "No shit!"

However, I said, "It was wonderful and the best I have ever had, but I would never be like that."

Nabs just quietly said, "We'll see. I hope that is right."

I drove home that day thinking that the girl had unbelievable talent sexually. I had been with sexy girls, but that was mostly based on looks, big boobs or being promiscuous. Nabs was not a classic babe but she was awesome at sucking and fucking. I guess it makes sense that some people will be more talented than others at having sex, but I had never experienced anything close to the things that Nabs could do. Given her experience with every guy she was with wanting nothing except her mouth, I guessed that Nabs knew she was great at having sex.

As I thought about my cute little friend being a great cocksucker, I decided that it made sense. Some guys have natural ability to hit a baseball or throw a football and a few of them also work hard at getting even better. I had stumbled on to the Babe Ruth of cocksuckers. She also had the ability to concentrate completely on the task and clearly had the desire to give pleasure and improve her skills.

I wondered how many cocks had been down her throat.

The next morning was a work day. I woke up with a boner wanting to go to Nab's house for a blowjob. However, I managed to resist. I did not want to be like all of the other guys who only wanted her to suck cock.

I tried to concentrate on work, but I kept thinking about looking into Karen's dark eyes while my cock was embedded in her throat.

At 11:30, I gave in and called her.

"Will you join me for lunch, Karen?" I asked.

"I am going for Tex-Mex with a couple of the guys, but you should come too."

"Why don't you ride with me? Just the two of us." I suggested. "I have an idea that might be a lot of fun after lunch."

Nabs innocently asked, "What is your idea? I don't have too much extra time today."

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking we might find a spot to mess around."




The Associate



"At lunch?" She asked. "I don't have time today to go to my house."

"Well . . . Nabs . . . I was thinking . . . maybe, you might give me one of your amazing blowjobs in the car," I said sheepishly. "It shouldn't take too long."

She was silent for a minute and I was afraid I had pissed her off by being so horny. Then, she said, "You called me at my office during a busy work day to ask me to suck your dick? When just last night you said you would be different from all of the guys who only wanted to stick their things in my mouth all of the time! It hasn't even been 24 hours since I did you the first time!"

"Nabs!" I exclaimed. "I tried. I really tried! I couldn't think about anything else. You were amazing last night."

I held my breath. I knew Karen had a temper and I was afraid I had blown the great deal I had going by showing her what a horny, obsessive bastard I really am.

"You did not hold out very long," Nabs laughed. "When our friends are around, try not to get a hard-on when you look at my lips."

I was so relieved that she wasn't mad I laughed and said, "Didn't your mother teach you that nice girls don't use words like "hard-on" in polite company?"

Nabs giggled and said, "I had no idea that being propositioned at work by a horny coworker who wants to stick his dick in my mouth again was considered polite company. Didn't your mother teach you not to stick your hard-on in a nice girl's mouth?"

I gave up and said, "I will meet you in the lobby."

We went to lunch with some of our buddies. Nobody seemed to suspect that we were sport fucking in secret. 

During this lunch, for the first time in my life, my cock got hard looking at someone's lips. 

After lunch, we got in my car and I said, "Show me which bra you wore today, Nabs."

She blushed and said, "I can't do that here. Someone will see."

"I am not asking you to get naked, just unbutton your dress and show me those nice hooters." 

Nabs rolled her eyes and said, "Hooters? I can't believe how you talk to me!"

As she complained, she unbuttoned the front of her nice navy blue dress and pulled it open to show me a lacy white bra and some very nice cleavage. She pulled the top back far enough to show me both of her boobs. I felt her up while I drove down the street.

I took her to a dumpy little park just outside of downtown and parked under a tree. The park was small and ugly, but we did not have to worry about being observed or running into anybody we knew. I left the car and the air conditioner on. You can only sit in a closed car in Houston for about a minute without air conditioning on most days.

She looked at me and said, "Take off your pants and recline the seat if you want a blowjob." 

I appreciated her willingness to get right to the point. I quickly removed my pants and underwear. My cock was ready for action.

Karen looked at me with those pretty dark eyes and said, "Telling you this is against my better judgment, but there are a couple of other things I can do if you want me to."

I had no clue what she was saying, but I was definitely interested and told her so.

She got a little shy and modestly looked down for a minute before she began. Then, she said, "Now don't get all carried away with the oral sex like all the other guys I have known, but I can lick your testicles while I suck you if you would like me to do that. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't like it."

I nearly died from excitement, but managed to say with a gulp, "I think that would be fun to try." 

I did not tell her that no girl before her could even take all of my cock much less take it all and lick my balls. I had my doubts that she could do it, but I wanted to see her try.

Nabs looked happy like she was checking an item off of her mental check list and said, "Great, we will try it."

Next, she looked at me and said, "Please don't think I am a slut or something, but I like something that most women say they don't like."

I replied quickly that I wouldn't think badly of her and would be happy to do anything she wanted.

Even with her dark complexion, she blushed a little as she told me, "I like it when a guy puts his hands on my head and forces my head up and down while I am sucking him. With your nice penis, I would really enjoy it. You can do it to me if that would be acceptable to you."

I gulped again and almost moaned, "That would be acceptable."

I wondered if she was being serious or if she was putting on a show to make me unbelievably horny. Either way, it made me unbelievably horny. It also crossed my mind that she might be pulling my leg, but I figured that I would find out as soon as I grabbed her head and pushed it down on my hard cock.

I reclined my seat as far as it would go and looked down at my cock that was now standing straight up. Little Nabs gently cupped my balls with her right hand, smiled at me and slowly lowered her mouth down my cock. She slowly descended all the way to the base and started sucking hard when she got to the bottom. 

I had a great view of the action because the seat reclined just enough to let me watch this young associate attorney suck my cock. I was stunned again. My cock is 7 and one-half inches long and 6 inches around. She easily took it to the base. I loved the look of her lips on the thick base of my cock. I also loved the way her cheeks indented while she sucked. 

As I watched, I saw Nabs stick out her tongue when she was at the base of my cock. She was trying to lick my balls with my entire dick down her throat. The only trouble was that she was coming at me from the side and her tongue could not reach my balls. She was licking away at the base of my cock trying to reach my balls.

She came up off of my dick and said, "I can't lick your balls in this position, but if you swing around to face me I can."

I swung around sideways in the seat, swung one leg over her head and she anxiously swallowed my cock again. A moment later, she was making strange gagging noises as she licked my balls with her tongue. It was amazing! It was nasty. It was tremendous.

I wanted to cum, but I remembered that Nabs wanted to be face fucked. I grabbed her head gently with both hands. I swear she came as I pushed on her head. She was moaning and trembling as she came. Her mouth was as wet and soft as her pussy.

Soon, I was lifting and lowering her head on my hard dick. My hands were buried in her thick black hair. She was moaning and groaning as I face fucked her. I started humping her face as hard and fast as I could and exploded in her mouth. She softly sucked me dry. 

I loved oral sex with Nabs, but I mixed in some awesome fucking too. She seemed to appreciate that. 

I also was looking for a good time to suggest anal sex again. She had said she would do it when she thought that was what I wanted. I just needed to initiate it. I don't know why but the thought of telling her I wanted to fuck her in the ass made me nervous. I guess I was worried about pushing too far or being too crude and blowing this deal.

This story so far sounds like a fairy tale. A coworker secretly wants to fuck my brains out and deepthroat my cock. Then, she turns out to be great at both. It was too good to be true and Murphy's Law was about to kick in.

I was aiming toward a firm party that was approaching that would be a great time to hook up with Nabs after the party. My somewhat perverted plan was to fuck her in the ass while she was still wearing her formal gown. She looked cute in a black slinky evening gown. She was not showing any cleavage, but I could see the outline of her round boobs and nice ass under the thin gown. We were all drinking heavily and I had whispered to Karen that I wanted to meet her at her house after the party. 

Our group gathered at a bar after the party and drank even more. I was drunk enough to whisper to Nabs that I wanted to try anal sex that night. She said her roommate was in town, but she would probably be asleep by the time we got home. I took that as a yes.

Nabs laughed at how excited it made me to talk to her about butt fucking. To me, it was nasty and taboo. I loved the idea of cute little Nabs taking my cock up her ass. She seemed to take it in stride. I wondered if there was anything she had not done sexually.

As I came into Nabs' house after we left the bar, she told me to be quiet because her roommate, Carla, was asleep upstairs. Carla was a young lawyer and a sweet girl.

I was a little nervous about our first anal sex, so I was trying to be funny and make jokes to keep the mood light. Nabs was laughing and saying funny things too. We were having a hard time being quiet after drinking for hours.

I then made an innocent mistake. One of our friends, Mike, was a young trial lawyer and hilarious guy. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor which was perfect for our group. Mike had memorized the best lines from a dozen old movies and could deliver the lines perfectly by impersonating the actors. He had funny bits from Caddyshack, Animal House, Airplane, Young Frankenstein and the like. 

One of his funniest routines was from the "Squeal like a pig" anal rape scene from Deliverance. In the scene, a city guy on vacation is made to squeal like a pig as he is anally raped by a hillbilly. Mike would twist it around to apply it to his dating life or the way the senior partners treated him at the firm. It was hilarious.

I made the mistake of assuming that Mike had done the "Squeal like a pig" routine in front of Nabs. As she gently applied lube to my hard dick and her ass, lifted her slinky black dress above her waist and bent over the arm of the sofa in the living room, I made an ill advised attempt to be funny. I said, "Squeal like a pig!" trying to use the rough hillbilly voice Mike always used.

I expected laughter and jokes from Nabs, but she did not react at all. She just bent over the arm of the sofa and displayed her small ass to me.

I was surprised by Nabs' failure to react to my attempted joke but I was too excited to worry about it. I tried to stick my hard dick in her ass, but missed a time or two. Nabs then gently grabbed my cock and directed the head right into her ass. It slid in easily about half-way.

Then, to my complete surprise, Nabs loudly squealed, "Weeeeee! Weeeeee! Yeeeeee!"

I couldn't believe it! Nabs was squealing like a pig! She thought I was serious when I roughly told her to squeal like a pig. She wasn't laughing. She was squealing and moaning with each stroke.

If a rock hard cock can become harder, mine did. I loved the thought that this brilliant lawyer from the finest home was taking my cock up her ass and squealing like a pig. 

I encouraged her as I butt fucked her. Instead of telling her it was a joke, I moaned, "Yes, Karen! I love it! Squeal Karen! Squeal like a pig!"

"Weeeeee! Ohhhhhh! Weeeeee!"

My cock was completely buried in her ass. I was intentionally pulling it most of the way out and then slowly jamming it all the way in. Each time I drove it in, it took Karen's breath away and she would gasp or moan. Then, like a little trooper, she would resume squealing.

As I was pumping away at my friend's ass, I noticed some movement from the stairs behind us. I realized that we must have awaken Carla and she was coming down the stairs into the living room.

I am ashamed of myself over this, but as soon as I realized Carla was coming down the stairs to see what was going on in her living room, I pulled my cock most of the way out of Karen's ass to give Carla a good view and said to Karen, "Louder Karen! Squeal like a pig!"

Karen immediately started squealing louder, "Weeeeeee! Yeeeeeee!"

Carla was now at the bottom of the stairs in a robe staring wide-eyed at her roommate taking a big cock up her ass and loudly squealing like a pig. 

As soon as Carla reached the bottom of the stairs, she asked, "Karen, are you alright?"

The sound of Carla's voice in the room was the first indication to Karen that Carla was in the room with us. Karen lifted her face from the cushion of the couch, stopped squealing and grunting and looked at Carla. They proceeded to have a conversation as if a naked man was not ramming his hard cock up Karen's ass.

Karen said, "Oh, Carla, I am so sorry we woke you. I apologize. I am fine. We will try not to make so much noise next time."

As she said that, I rammed my cock as deep as it would go several times. I was completely turned on by having Carla watch us. Karen would gasp each time my cock went deep in her ass.

Carla smiled, blushed and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. I was thinking that it would be hard for Karen to have the next conversation with her roommate after Carla heard her squealing like a pig.

As Carla ran up the stairs, I said, "Squeal like a pig!"

Nabs squealed loudly as I came in her ass.

The next day our group of friends gathered to watch a ballgame at my house. We were all drinking beer and having fun. Nabs was there.

At halftime, when Nabs was in the kitchen doing something, Mike started telling a funny story about the slutty girl he had taken to the party the night before on a blind date. Although he was joking, he went into his "Squeal like a pig" routine as part of the story. 

Mike was in the middle of it when Karen walked back into the room and heard Mike talking about buttfucking and "Squealing like a pig." Someone said that maybe he shouldn't tell that story in front of Karen, so he quit.

Karen naturally thought that we were talking about her and that we were all laughing about me buttfucking her and making her squeal like a pig. She gave me a look that could kill and immediately left my house. 

I tried talking to her as she left and then on the phone. She wouldn't talk to me.

I went to her house later and she would not come to the door. 

Later, Carla answered the door and would not let me in. I could tell by her comments that she thought Karen was mad at me for buttfucking her and making her make demeaning sounds as I did it. 

I couldn't convince her that there had been a complete misunderstanding. 

Carla said, "It was not hard to understand what you were doing to Karen. I saw you do it. And, I heard you do it."

I tried and tried, but never got back together with Nabs. After months of trying, I think she halfway forgave me. However, the possibility of more sex was nil. We eventually settled back into our strictly platonic friends relationship.

That is my story. I managed to blow the best fuck buddy relationship of all time. I get mad at myself every time I think about it, but some things seem to be beyond our control. You win some, you lose some. I lost this one and it is my own damned fault.



The Association



What grim motive was behind the terroristic frightening of those beautiful New York models, and behind the murder that accompanied it? I, Austin Green, had two dangerous reasons for wanting to find out . . . .

*****

September, 1945...

ONE: Models

Johnny Walnut said; "I'm telling you, Austin, this doll is something. You can take your million-dollar models and throw them all together and you ain't got nothing that can touch her."

I regarded him with amusement. He was a funny little man with red hair and the sharpest-pointed nose I've ever seen. A photographer, and a good one, he preferred to freelance rather than take a job, although he could have commanded an excellent salary.

"I like to take pictures of what I want, the way I want to take them," he told me once, and I believed him.

"Take it easy, Jimmy," I said, winking at Henry Gaylord, my agency manager. "You'll blow a fuse. To hear you tell it, this tomato is super-extra. I'd almost think you were gone on her if I didn't know that you regard women as strictly from hunger."

He grinned, the red climbing up his pinched cheeks until it reached his oversized ears and colored them. "I wouldn't know about that." He'd lowered his voice. "You see, the way I feel about this Terri . . . all I want to do is sit and look at her, like you would look at a statue or something."

"Bring her around," I said. "We could use something like that. Most of the girls nowadays have been walking around in moccasins so long that they shuffle like an Indian."

He grinned. Henry Gaylord said in his worried voice, "Now, Austin, don't be hasty. This girl probably just fell out of that tree that grows in Brooklyn. If you have Johnny bring her in, she'll get big ideas and—"

"She wouldn't come anyway," said Johnny. "I don't get it. I told her I knew you— kind of building myself up, you know—and she acted sort of scared."

"Maybe," said Henry slowly, "she belongs to this model association. If so, we don't want any part of her."

I swung my chair around to look at him. "Model association? What's that? Do any of our girls belong?"

He shook his head. "It isn't that kind of an association. In fact, I think it's some kind of racket. The cheaper jobbers and ready-to-wear houses that have one and two girls are bothered. I was talking to a friend of mine in the trade the other day. It seems he has to hire the girls they tell him to—or something might happen to his business."

"Nuts."

Henry shrugged and looked appealingly toward Johnny Walnut. "Austin's so used to being the head of the great Green Agency that he can't imagine anyone who isn't afraid of him."

"It isn't that," I said. "It's just that that kind of talk doesn't make sense. Sure, I know there are chiselers around town who would move into anything that looked like they could squeeze a dime out of, but those girls, modeling in the ready-to-wear trade, aren't making enough to attract any kind of a rat. Someone's been kidding you. Now, you both get out and let me work."

THEY went and I proceeded to forget all about Johnny and this Terri Hall. I probably would never have thought of the name again if Johnny hadn't been waiting at the bus stop three nights later when I paused in the hope of picking up a cab.

His face lighted when he saw me and he pulled a big old-fashioned hunter-case watch from the pocket of his sagging vest.

"Hi, Austin. Where you headed?"

I said that I was going home. I was tired of arguing with girls. To those of you who see the photographs of my models on advertising or magazine covers, it may seem that it would be fun to argue with some of the models once in awhile, but when you put in eight hours, six days every week, coping with their temperament, satisfying their whims, temporizing with advertisers, photographers and the like, you get very tired of women.

"Look," he said in his small, eager voice. "It's early, not four-thirty yet. They're having a little show for some out-of-town buyer down at Inga's House of Style. That Terri Hall that I was telling you about. She's working down there. You can get a look at her without her knowing."

I shook my head. "Uh, no..."

"Please, Austin... tell you what I'll do. I'll handle those Radford pictures you've been after me to take, if you'll come down. It won't take half an hour... Hey, taxi!" His arm had gone up and signaled a passing cab which slid to a stop before us.

Johnny had the door open, was shoving me inside and giving the driver a Twenty-second Street address. I shrugged and settled back in the seat. It was easier to go along than it was to argue.

The building before which the cab stopped was an old one, housing a succession of lofts and small show rooms. The one on the third floor into which Jimmy piloted me was no different from a hundred others scattered through New York's sprawling garment center.

Around the showroom were scattered a half-dozen buyers from little chains of ready-to-wear shops from all across the country. It was no different from crowds that you could see at one of these places any time a new line was being shown, but the girl who came through the far door was decidedly different.

I didn't need the tug which Johnny Walnut gave my coattail to know that this was the girl we'd come to see. I watched her instinctively, as a trainer might size up a horse. Models were my business, after all.

She was beautiful, but to me that was of secondary importance. It was the way she walked, the little extra touch that she gave to the clothes she wore.

A little difference is big in models.

THE outfit she was modeling was cheap and badly designed, but on her it looked as if it might have come from Sak's. She wore almost no make-up, yet her skin looked as smooth and soft as a peach.

"What did I tell you!" Johnny whispered gleefully. "Some dish, what?" Before I could stop him, he'd stepped forward and caught the girl's arm as she was about to disappear through the door to the fitting room. He led her, protesting, toward where I stood and I felt every eye fin the room turned in our direction. As they reached me, Jimmy was saying, "Snap out of it, sugar. This is Austin Green. His agency is almost as large as the Powers outfit. You can't afford to miss a chance like this."

I could tell by her face that his words excited her, but under the excitement there was something else that seemed very like fear. "I... I'm not supposed to talk to anyone," she said.

I stepped to meet them. This girl intrigued me. Mostly I have to fight shy to keep from meeting them. Here was one who hesitated at meeting me.

"How do you do?" I said as Johnny introduced us. "I wonder if you'd be interested in calling at my office in the morning. It's on—"

"Oh, but I couldn't."

I stared at her. "Well, in that case," I started to turn away.

But Johnny caught my arm. "Wait a minute, Austin. Don't go."

I turned back and as 1 did so a squat man came through the fitting-room door. He was so broad that he seemed to be almost as wide as he was tall. His face was broad and flat, and his eyes protruded a little as if someone had squeezed his neck too tightly. 

"Get out of here." He was talking to the girl, his voice so low that it barely reached my ears.

I took a step forward and he snarled at me, "Keep out of this, Mac," and putting out a thick hand, shoved against my chest.

I hit him without thinking about it. I have never liked being pushed around, and I certainly didn't like this squat man. I hit his jaw, and it was like hitting a piece of iron, sending pain back along my arm in knife-like waves. He put his head down and bored in. I sensed rather than saw the heavy arms, clutching out at me, and knew that if he ever folded me into their bear-like grip, he would smash my ribs and perhaps shatter my spine.

I danced away from him. I'd boxed in college but I'd not had on gloves since. I realized anyhow that this was more than a boxing match, much more. This squat man, charging toward me with his guttural half-animal noises, was a killer. I could see it in his popped, red-rimmed eyes.

I had to stop him, and it had to be with my fists. I concentrated on the man before me, forgetting the startled buyers, the girl and Johnny Walnut. He kept rushing me, his big arms swinging, but it wasn't the blows I feared. I feared that he'd back me into a corner, and wrap those arms around me.

My fists thudded against his head and face, battering it into a red smear. An ordinary man would have fallen, but this grotesque creature kept coming. One of his eyes was closed and blood from a cut over the second eye ran down to blind him partly.

This helped. If he could have seen clearly I don't think I'd have ever escaped. As it was, I can take no real credit for knocking him out. It was Jimmy Wabash who ended it, and the weapon he used was a bronze statuette of a model which sat in a little niche between the windows.

HOW long it was between the man's first charge and the cracking blow against the back of his head which put him down, I'll never know.

He fell forward onto his face, and I thought that he was dead. I wasn't certain that I wasn't either. My chest felt as if it were circled by a band of iron which would not allow me enough air in my tortured lungs. My arms were so weary that I could hardly hold up my puffed, broken hands.

Johnny was excited. "Did he hurt you, Austin? Shit, did you hit him with everything in the book!"

"Everything but a statue," I said wryly. "It seems that's what it takes. Lucky you were around to swing it."

His mouth twisted. "I'm sorry, I couldn't seem to move, couldn't get going."

"You came through in the pinch," I said, feeling one cheek where one of the squat man's wild blows had nearly laid the bone bare. "That was like fighting an ox. We ought to buy his contract and put him in the Garden."

Someone seized my arm, and I thought for a moment that the ox had friends who wanted to carry on the fight. I swung around, ready. Instead I found myself facing a little guy in a gray pin-point stripe suit. His shirt and tie were lavender and matched. His hair was sleek and very black and he looked worried.

"What have you done? What have you done?" He was treating my arm as if he thought it were a pump handle.

I shook him loose. "Take it easy."

He was almost crying. "Rocco won't let me operate. He'll wreck the place, he'll—"

I judged that the man on the floor was Rocco.

"At the moment he won't wreck anything," I said. "We're lucky if he isn't dead."

"You can't kill him," the lavender-shirted one moaned. "Oh, that this should happen to me." He swung about and went tearing away into the cutting room.

I looked at Johnny. "What is this, a den of lunatics? Is the guy dead?"

"He's breathing."

"Then let's call an ambulance and get out of here. We don't want to be mixed up in a brawl in police court." I looked toward the girl, whom I'd forgotten, and found that she was staring down at the battered man on the floor.

"Look, sister, who is he?"

She raised her eyes. They were big and very dark and the most beautiful I'd ever seen. "He's... Rocco."

I lost my temper. After all, I'd taken something of a beating myself. Every muscle in my body ached. "Rocco! Rocco? What is this?"

"He runs the association."

I said, "So what? You act as if you were scared to death of him. My girls belong to a union and they—"

"This is different." She was whispering as if she were afraid that someone would hear her. "We... we can't quit. Something would happen, acid would be thrown. It happened to one girl..."

I STARED at her, not believing my ears, but I had to believe the fear that was mirrored in her face. It was a real, a living thing that gave her a tragic quality hard to describe.

"Look," I said, and my voice was softer, for I found that I suddenly had the impulse to put an arm around her shoulder, to comfort her, to tell her not to be afraid. "This is utterly silly. If everything that you say is true, all we have to do is to call the police, to tell them what you know, and Mr. Rocco will go away for a long, long time where he won't throw any acid or anything else."

"No, no. I don't dare. I can't talk to the police." She was crying openly now. "They'd get the other girls if I did."

"Who would?"

"I don't know. That's the trouble. We've never seen them, never seen anyone but Rocco."

I looked helplessly at Johnny.

He said, "We can't leave her here. That ape will kill her when he comes to."

"If he ever does."

"He will," said Johnny. "No bronze was ever cast that would crack that skull. I'll take her home with me. I've got a sister up in the Bronx. In the morning, we'll decide what to do. Will you give her a job?"

I nodded. "Why not? With some training, and—"

"See?" said Johnny, putting his arm around Terri Hall's slender shoulders. "You've got nothing to worry about, baby. Six months with the Green Agency and you'll be a big shot. You'll laugh at asses like that Rocco."

She shuddered. "I can't go. I—"

"You're going," he said, peeling off his own topcoat and throwing it around her shoulders. "You're okay now, baby, nothing to worry about. Nothing at all." He turned to me. "Coming?"

"Go ahead," I said. "I'm going to find a phone and turn over my little beauty to the cops. We'll see what happens then."

Two: No Chance

HENRY GAYLORD came into my office almost as soon as I arrived, and put a copy of the morning paper on my desk. "I thought you might be interested in this." He pointed to a story in the right-hand column, headed: PHOTOGRAPHER FOUND MURDERED.

It still didn't ring any bell until I read on down and found Johnny Walnut's name. Then I looked up with a start.

"When? How?"

Gaylord said, "It's all there." He was a big man, soft and good-looking in an over-stuffed sort of way, and his face glistened a little now in the shaft of morning sun. "His sister heard an awful racket about one-thirty in Johnny's dark-room. She tried to get in, but the door was locked, and she called the police. When they arrived they broke down the door and found Walnut's body. He'd been beaten to death."

I started, and a picture of the squat Rocco leaped into my mind. "A girl," I said. "Does it say anything about a girl?"

Gaylord looked at me as if I had suddenly gone crazy. "Why, yes, it seems that Johnny brought a girl home with him last night, according to his sister. They put her in the spare room, but when the police looked, she was gone."

I swore under my breath and reached for the telephone, thought better of it and grabbed my hat.

Gaylord said sharply: "You have appointments with—"

"Take care of them," I flung back over my shoulder, for I was already halfway to the door.' "You'll have to run things. I don't know when I'll be back."

*****

CAPTAIN LUNDON and Inspector Rolf of the homicide squad said, "But of course you can see him. He's over at the morgue." They took me over to the morgue and showed me Johnny Walnut, or what was left of him.

Lundon said, "Poor bastard! Whoever did it must have hated him. Only a man crazed by hate would have beaten him up that way."

"I know who did it," I said, turning away. The sight of Jimmy's broken body sickened me.

They both stared at me. Lundon was a little man, not much bigger than Johnny had been, and they looked something alike. He screwed up his gray-green eyes and asked: "Who?"

"I don't know what his name is," 1 told them, "but I called the police about him last night. He and I had a fight in one of the garment lofts on Twenty-Second Street, and he was knocked out. The ambulance came and took him away, but he must have been released. His name is Rocco something or other."

The two men looked at each other, then at me; and Lundon shook his head. "Sorry Mr. Green, but that's out. The man you're talking about is Rocco Grimes. He's a small-time chiseler and former fighter. As soon as we heard about this missing model, we started checking up on him. Walnut had told his sister about the fight, but we're out of luck. Rocco couldn't have killed Walnut because Rocco was still at the hospital, being patched up, at the time of the murder."

I stared at them, not believing my ears. Then I turned and looked at the broken man on the wheeled table. It was so obviously Rocco's work. This was the way he would like to kill a man, breaking him to pieces until the flicker of life went out of his victim. I turned back. "Look, wouldn't it be possible that this Rocco could have slipped away from the hospital, killed Walnut and slipped back in, thus establishing an alibi? I've read of such things, and—"

"You'll find," the police captain told me, "that they happen much more often in movies than they do in real life. However, we checked very closely on this one, and we're certain that Rocco didn't leave the hospital; nor was he in such good shape to kill anyone. You gave him a very thorough beating, Mr. Green."

"Not as much as I'd have liked," I said, grimly. "Look, this model association, or whatever it is, that Rocco is connected with. I'm certain that they killed Walnut and kidnapped the girl. Aren't you going to do anything about it?"

Inspector Rolf spread his hands. "What can we do? We've been interviewing girls and manufacturers all morning and we can't get a straight answer out of any of them. They're lying, we know it, but they tell us with a straight face that they never heard of such a thing. Why, Hillard Wilton, the man who owns the loft where you had your fight yesterday, swore that he'd never seen Rocco before and that he had no idea who he was. Don't think we're giving up, but—"

"I'm not giving up," I said, sticking my jaw out and realizing even as I did so that this was silly. Here were two police officers. I knew they were honest and yet they admitted that this had them stumped.

But inside of me was a burning anger. I'd never felt quite like that before and I couldn't explain it even to myself. I'd liked Jimmy, but I knew a great many people whom I liked as well. Why then should I butt my head against something which was none of my affair? Could it be the girl? Was I worried about Terri Hall?' That didn't make sense. I'd seen her only once. She was beautiful, yes, but in my business, beautiful women are a dime a dozen. I'd go back to my office and forget the whole thing. Sooner or later the cops would find Johnny Walnut's murderer. They always did.

I said goodbye to the two officers and headed uptown, but I didn't go to my office. I went on up to the Bronx.

JOHNNY WALNUT'S sister was a thin- faced, tired-looking woman in her late thirties. Her hair had the same gritty, sandy look that Johnny's had, and her nose was almost as pointed. It gave me a turn to look at her.

"I'm Austin Green," I said, as she showed me into the small, dark living-room. "I came out to see if there was anything I could do to help!"

That wasn't quite true. I'd come out to ask questions, but after one look at her, I couldn't bear to bring up the subject of the murder.

She brought it up herself. "Johnny would have been proud to have you here," she said. "He thought you were a great man, one of the greatest."

This was embarrassing and I fumbled for words, not knowing quite what to say. She saved me the trouble. Words came out of her with a rush. I guess it was a relief to have someone to talk to.

"The girl killed him," she said. "Oh, I don't mean that she beat him herself, but it was on account of the girl. Ever since he saw her first he's been kind of screwy. I don't know whether he was in love with her. I don't think Johnny was ever really in love the way most boys are; at least he never had any girl friends. He was always nuts about pictures, taking them, cutting them out of magazines, anything."

I said, weakly, "I know he was. A great guy."

"In his way." She nodded. "Kind of screwy, but good-hearted. I—" She broke off and I thought for a minute she was going to cry. "It was pretty terrible, seeing him, after... after it was over."




The Association



"I know, I saw him."

She seemed to derive a little comfort from that. "I don't know what it's all about," she went on. "Johnny didn't tell me much. He brought this girl home. She wouldn't eat. She went right to her room."

"And that's the last you saw of her?"

The woman nodded. "After dinner Johnny went into the darkroom." She indicated the pullman-like hall at one side. "It's on the end. I didn't think much about it. He spends most of his evenings in there. Around twelve I heard the apartment buzzer. I was in bed. I heard Johnny go to the door, then the mutter of voices."

"How many?"

She shook her head tiredly. "I don't know.

I've been trying to remember. I even thought I heard your name mentioned."

I stared at her, startled. "My name?"

"Probably I didn't," she said. "We'd been talking about you at dinner, what you were going to do for the girl. Johnny even said that he might work for you, part-time anyhow, taking pictures of her."

"Poor devil." It came out without my meaning to speak, but the woman took no notice.

"Anyhow, I must have dozed off, for the next I knew I heard the sounds of this fight. First I thought it was in the alley out back, then I realized that it was in the dark-room. I got up, and ran to the door, calling to Johnny, but it was locked and I couldn't get in. Finally I gave up and called the police."

"And the girl, you didn't see her?"

The woman shook her head. "Not a sign. Her bed had been slept in but it was empty when the police got here."

"And there's another way out of the darkroom? I mean the murderer didn't come back through the hall?"

She shook her head. "There's a fire-escape down to the alley. He'd have to drop only one story."

I thanked her and left the apartment. I meant to go back to the office. There were a million things that demanded my attention, but I found myself giving the cab driver the address of the Twenty-second Street loft.

THREE. On the Lam

HILLARD WILTON was certainly not glad to see me. His face, when he realized who it was, turned the color of dirty cheese-cake and he took half a step backward as if to retreat to the cutting room.

"Wait a minute," I said. "I just want to talk to you."

"Haven't you caused enough trouble?" He still wore the lavender shirt, or, judging from its freshly laundered appearance, another of the same shade. His hands fluttered up, long and graceful as a woman's. I eyed them, wondering if they were strong enough to have beaten a man to death. The back of the right one was discolored and there was a little piece of tape over a small cut.

"I haven't caused any trouble," I told him.

"No? What do you call trouble?" he demanded angrily, coming forward. "A fight when my best buyers are in the room, knocking down a man, beating him, and then sending the police this morning to question me as if I were a criminal!"

"Aren't you?"

He looked startled for an instant, then angry red drove the yellow whiteness from under his skin. "Get out. Get out before I have you thrown from the building."

"Who's going to do it?" I asked. "Have you got Rocco hiding in one of the back rooms?"

He stared at me, the red fading from his cheeks, leaving the lemon yellow as before. "Rocco? Who is this Rocco? I know no one by such an absurd name."

"You knew him last evening," I said, dangerously. "When he was decorating your floor and bleeding all over the pretty rug."

"Oh, you mean that one. Hah!" Wilton pretended to get excited. "That one I do not know. He comes with the girl. Every time he comes with the girl. Her brother or something, I think."

I knew he was lying. I knew that he didn't think anything of the kind, but at the moment I couldn't prove it and I couldn't see anything to be gained by saying so.

"Okay," I said. "What was the girl's address?"

"Address... address? I don't know. I—"

"Look," I said, losing patience. "You're really building yourself up a lot of trouble, my friend." I turned on my heel and walked out of the place, conscious that his black eyes were boring into my back.

TWICE on the way back uptown I had the sensation of being followed, and I paused outside of Radio City to look back at the street crowd, but could see no one who seemed suspicious.

However the impression persisted all the way up in the crowded elevator, and it was not until I gained the shelter of my own office that I lost it.

Henry Gaylord greeted me angrily. "Where in the devil have you been? Fifty things have come up that needed your attention." He proceeded to dump them onto my desk, and I worked like mad for a full hour. Finally my secretary came in hesitantly.

"I hate to bother you, but there's a girl here. She's been waiting for over three hours and she won't see anyone but you."

I waved my hand. "Not today. Make an appointment or—"

The secretary coughed. She'd been with me a dozen years and I'd never known her to take liberties before. "I'm sorry, Mr. Green, but . . . well. I think you should see this girl. There's something the matter. I don't know what it is, but she's tremendously worried. She says that you told her to call and that Johnny—"

I had looked up in impatience. Suddenly I said. "What? What name?"

"Terri," said the secretary... She just asked me to tell you that Terri Hall was here."

I jumped up from the desk so rapidly that I turned the swivel chair over. "Terri? Johnny? Why didn't you say so before? Where is she? Bring her in here at once."

The secretary's mouth had fallen open. She was past fifty, steady and unexcitable, and I guess she'd never seen me act in this manner before. "Yes, sir," she gasped when she had recovered her breath. She turned and disappeared into her own office to reappear a minute later with Mary.

I came forward to meet her. Terri Hall was without coat or hat and was still wearing the suit she had been modeling on the preceding afternoon.

The secretary stood and stared at us until I raised my head and looked at her, then slowly she disappeared into her own office, closing the door softly behind her.

"Terri," I said. "Where have you been? I've been hunting all over New York for you. So have the police."

She shivered a little at the mention of the law officers, and I led her to a chair.

"You're all right," I said, "There's nothing to worry about. You're perfectly safe."

She started to cry then, not loudly, but silently, the big tears squeezing their way from under her lids and drawing little wet paths along the curves of her cheeks.

I put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against me, feeling her tremble. "Take it easy. You're all right. Just tell me what happened."

SHE told me in short, broken sentences. She had been awakened by the noise from the darkroom and had stolen out into the hall. Then she had heard Johnny Walnut's sister phoning the police and had fled the apartment. She had seen no one.

"But where did you go—home? The police checked your address and—"

She shook her head. "I didn't dare," she said. "I rode the subway all night and this morning, until I thought you'd be at your office. I couldn't find your home phone in the book."

"It's unlisted," I told her. "Have you any idea who killed Johnny? You know he's dead?"

She nodded. "I saw a paper in the subway. They killed him of course."

"They?" I stared at her.

"The men behind Rocco," she said. "They threw acid in Jane's face. They whipped Katie and they'll kill me—"

"Oh no they won't," I told her confidently. "There's nothing to worry about, not one single little thing. With your testimony the police can put Rocco away and-"

She shrank before my eyes. "No, I can't talk to the police."

My voice roughened. "Look, Johnny Walnut was a funny little guy, but he believed in you and he was killed trying to help you."

"I know." It was barely a whisper.

"You owe him something," I went on, "even if you don't owe anything to yourself."

"I owe the other girls something, too."

I stared at her. "What do you mean by that?"

She said, slowly: "If anyone of us were to talk, they'd take it out on the other girls."

"That's the second time you've mentioned this mysterious they. Who are they? What do you know about them?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

I lost what little patience I had left. "Do you mean that you took Rocco's word for it that there was someone else? He was probably bluffing you, probably working by himself."

"No he wasn't." Her voice gained strength. "I saw another man once. He spoke to us. He was masked."

The phone on my desk rang sharply and I reached over to pick it up. A man's voice, curiously muffled, said, "For your own good, Green, keep out of things that are not your concern."

There was a click at the other end of the line, and I hung up slowly. The girl, watching my face, seemed to sense that something was the matter. "Mr. Green... what is it?"

"Nothing," I told her, slowly, reaching across and pressing the buzzer which would summon Henry Gaylord. "Just someone with the wrong number."

HENRY GAYLORD came in. His eyes, when he saw the girl, widened a little, then narrowed critically. He was a good man and he knew as much about the business as I did. I sensed his excitement although he maintained his poker-face, and I knew that I hadn't been wrong about Mary. It takes something to make a good model, more than looks and shape and the ability to walk right.

In actresses you'd call it personality, the ability to sell yourself, to sell the thing you're wearing or advertising. This girl had it. Even through her fear it reached out and gripped you.

"This is the girl Johnny was talking about." I explained.

He looked at her with renewed interest. "The one the police are hunting?"

I nodded. "This is my manager, Henry Gaylord. He runs the place when I'm not around. In fact he almost runs it when I am."

Gaylord smiled. "He's too modest, Miss Hall. Austin is the spark plug. Without him we merely limp along."

I said: "Let's skip the compliments. Miss Hall doesn't want to go to the police. She's afraid that if she talks, the other girls will get into trouble. I don't know what to do with her."

Henry was silent, considering. "Why not send her out of town? It's certain that she won't be safe as long as she stays here. Whoever killed Johnny isn't going to want her around."

I said, "That's okay, but I don't want to send her out of town. I want to keep her here. There's a place for her in this agency and—"

Gaylord nodded. "I know what you mean." His eyes were still studying the girl thoughtfully. "But look at it this way, Austin. It wouldn't be fair to our other girls. Supposing these men, whoever they are, find out that she's working here. Don't you think they're going to start something with our other models?"

I stared at him. "They wouldn't dare."

He shrugged. "Still playing that Green Agency tune? Look, Austin. I've been with you two years. I think I've always worked for the best interests of the agency and I've never before hesitated to tell you the truth. I'm not going to start now."

"I don't want you to. There's nothing in the world I hate as much as a yes-man."

He nodded. "Okay, in your own line, you're a big shot. You know important people, and they're your friends. But doesn't it occur to you that the men behind this little game aren't impressed by who you are or who you know? A gun is a great leveler, and a beating will kill any man."

"Well..."

"So you don't want the girls working out of this agency to be subjected to rough treatment just because you're trying to prove to a bunch of crooks that Austin Green isn't afraid of them."

He was right. I hadn't thought of it from that angle. I turned toward the girl. "All right, honey. You go out of town. The question is where to send you."

She just looked at me as if not being able to find words, and I went on. "Where do you come from?"

"Here. I was born in Long Island City."

"Send her to Hollywood," Henry suggested. "I've got a friend out there who has a small agency. He might take her on. There isn't much work on the coast but—"

"Okay," I said. "Give me this guy's name and address. Better call him on the phone, then see if you can get reservations for Chicago. There may be a cancellation."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take her down and get her things," I said. I'm not going to leave her alone for a moment before she gets out of town. Come on, honey. What's your address?"

FOUR: Tough-Stuff

THE apartment was an old-fashioned walkup whose halls held smells of cooking, long forgotten. Terri Hall said, "I don't know how to thank you for what you're doing, but I can't go."

"Can't go?" I stared at her. We were standing in the small entry. To our right were the rows of brass-bound mail boxes with the apartment holders' names on them.

"Can't go," she repeated. "I can't leave Janet."

"Janet? Who's Janet?"

"The girl I live with. You know, I mentioned her. She used to be a model. She's the one that they threw acid at."

"Take her along," I said.

"But the money. It would cost—"

"Forget the cost," I said. "Look at it this way. If I hadn't gone down to Wilton's and started that fight with Rocco maybe none of this would have happened, maybe Johnny wouldn't be dead, maybe—"

She said, quickly, "It isn't right for you to blame yourself. The thing has been going on for months. I was caught in it, the rest of the girls were caught. Johnny got mixed up because he was trying to help me."

"Still," I said, "I'm going to get you out of town, and I'm going to break this thing up if I can. Come on." I turned and led the way up the stairs.

The girl who opened the door was surprisingly tall. I could see that she was perfectly proportioned and for a big girl would make an excellent model—but her face! I found that I had to steel myself when I looked at it.

She had been beautiful once. Not as beautiful as Terri, but far above the average as looks went. She wasn't now. The acid had not only burned the skin, it had caused the muscles to contract, making her mouth draw up at one corner and making one eye squint.

I steadied myself and managed a smile as Terri introduced us. But the big girl showed no interest in me. She caught Terri by the shoulders, holding her away so that she could look her over carefully, then she pulled the smaller girl against her, clasping her tight, and said in a husky voice:

"Baby, you all right? I was worried. You all right?"

"I'm all right," Terri told her. "This is Mr. Green. He helped me."

"Thanks," said the big girl, not even looking at me. "If there's anything..."

"You can get your clothes packed," I told her. "You and Terri are getting out of here,"

She looked at me, startled, then her twisted mouth hardened. "Oh no you don't. No one's running us out of this town. They tried it once with acid, but I'm too tough. I'll stay and I'll get even with them..." Her voice trembled a little but it wasn't from fear. I don't think that this girl knew what fear was. She'd gone through enough to make the average woman quit, but there was no quitting in her.

"You don't understand," Terri told her hastily. "Mr. Green isn't running us out of town. He's sending us because he doesn't think it's safe for us to stay. He was a friend of Johnny Walnut. You remember Walnut, the little man with the funny nose." She turned quickly to me. "This is Janet Walters," she said. "The girl I was telling you about. She wants to stay in New York. She wants to get even with the men who... who—"

Janet said without trace of emotion, "Who fixes my face this way. And I'll get even. I'll find out sometime who is behind Rocco and—"

She was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer, and both girls looked —at each other, startled. Terri said in a hushed tone, "They know I'm home. They..."

JANET turned without a word, walked across the room to the couch and drew a small pearl-handled gun from its hiding place among the tumbled pillows.

"I hope it is." Her mouth was a grim, crooked line. "I just hope it is. This is the break I've been waiting for, the—"

Both had forgotten me. I said, "Put that gun away. Let me handle this."

"No." Her voice was flat, final. "If it's them, I'll handle it myself." She tucked the gun into the loose sleeve of the dressing-gown she wore. "Go into the bedroom and stay there unless you want to get shot too. This is my show and I aim to handle it alone.

I went into the bedroom. I knew how she felt, but I didn't mean to stay out of it, not if 1 were needed.

I hadn't long to wait, for I heard the outer door open and heard a voice I recognized. It was Hillard Wilton, the manufacturer for whom the girl had modeled.

He came in and his voice was angry. "What do you mean, Terri, not showing up this morning? What do you mean, getting mixed up in a murder and having the police come to question me?"

"Leave her alone," said Janet.

"And you keep out of it." I couldn't see him but I judged that the little lavender-shirted man had swung to face Janet. "You never did know enough to mind your own business. It got you in trouble once. Maybe you haven't had enough trouble."

Janet's laugh was not a nice thing to hear. "There's nothing that you or Rocco or anyone else can do to hurt me now. I've been hurt as much as it's in the power of any man to hurt me. Now, let her alone."

"I should fire you, Terri." Apparently Wilton had chosen to ignore Janet. "But I'm soft- hearted. I'll take you back if you get these silly notions out of your head."

"She isn't working for you," Janet told him.

"Oh, but she is. I'll see that she doesn't model for anyone else. I'll see Rocco. He'll take care of her. He's sore at her anyhow."

"She isn't working in New York," said Jane. "Now, get out of here before I throw you out."

"Why you—!" I heard the sound of a slap, then a scuffle, and I ripped open the door. Apparently Janet had tried to pull her gun and Wilton had knocked it from her hand. They were struggling close to the door and although the girl was strong, the man was handling her with surprising ease. It flashed through my mind that I'd have to revise my ideas in regard to Wilton. He looked soft, but apparently he wasn't.

Terri was down on hands and knees, trying to get the gun which had slid under a chair. I jumped across the room, caught Janet's arm and, pulling her out of the way, swung for Wilton's jaw.

But he had seen me, wrenched free with a startled cry, turned and dived through the partly open door. I went after him and saw him go down the stairs in wild leaps which I could not equal without falling.

By the time I reached the building entrance he was gone.

Slowly I climbed back up the stairs to find the girls waiting in the hall. Janet had regained her gun and was standing, ready.

"Did you catch the perfumed rat?" I shook my head and she said under her breath: "Why didn't I shoot him!"

I said, "You think he's behind all this?"

The girls looked at each other, startled. Janet started to shake her head, then stopped.

"Why, I—it never occurred to me before. I always thought about him taking orders from Rocco, but, well, they were always pretty friendly. Some of the other manufacturers tried to put up a fight, but Wilton never did. I always thought it was because he lacked the guts, but now that you mention it..."

I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find that it was after five. "Listen, you girls get your stuff together. Stay in the apartment and don't open the door for anyone but me. If someone tries to break in, don't hesitate to use that gun of Janet's."

"Don't worry," the big girl told me.

Terri didn't say anything. She just stretched a hand to my arm, drew herself up on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek. "You're about the nicest person I've ever met."

FIVE: No Break for Rocco




The Association



IT WAS getting dark as I left the building and looked for a cab. There was none, and I started to walk across town toward the subway. I didn't see Rocco until he stepped out of the doorway and blocked my passage. There was a strip of tape along one cheek and his features had a battered, bluish look.

"Wait a minute, Mac."

I was startled, and I think afraid. I've never known much about fear, but I felt it tugging at me now. I looked up and down the street, quickly, in search of help. There were people on the street, but none close to us, and none paying any attention.

I faced Rocco then, knowing I was in for it. There was no question that the man could lick me. He was more brute than he was human, a throwback to the days when man was little better than an animal. I thought of Johnny's shattered body and shuddered. Still, he wasn't going to get me without a fight.

But I got the surprise of my life. Maybe Rocco was stiff and sore from the beating he had taken on the preceding afternoon. Maybe he figured that now wasn't the place or time, for he said:

"Look, Mac. This is just a little warning, see. You're planning to send those dames out of town... oh, never mind how I know. Well, that's okay. They're troublemakers and I'd just as soon they weren't around, but get smart and take a powder yourself. This town ain't big enough." He swung on his heel and cut across the street, leaving me standing there, staring after him with my mouth open.

A sudden, unreasoning rage filled me. That the man should have the nerve, the utter gall to order me out of town! I went after him, calling as I came.

He paused, swinging around, his fists on his wide hips, his arms looking as heavy and thick as young trees.

"Listen, you ape," I said. "This is my town and if you think I'm going to run because a cheap chiseler like you says the word, you'd better turn yourself into the psychopathic ward at Bellevue."

He moved his big head slowly from side to side. "Don't think I didn't warn you." His small eyes glittered redly in the half light. "You're just like that mugg Johnny Walnut. I tried to tell him to stay away from the dame, but he was always around, taking pictures, always taking pictures. And you ain't such a big shot, Green. Your agency will go on after you die, just like anything else." He swung on his heel again and walked away up the street, leaving me staring after him.

This time I did not follow.

Instead I turned and walked rapidly toward the subway, headed for my office.

*****

THE switchboard girl and Henry Gaylord were the only occupants when I arrived. Henry glanced at his watch. "Where have you been? I was just about to pull out."

"What about those train reservations?" I asked him.

"Nothing for tonight. The best I could do was tomorrow afternoon. The girls will just have to wait." I shrugged and, turning, led the way into my private office. He followed. "Have any trouble?"

"No real trouble," I said. "That guy Wilton showed up at the girls' apartment muttering threats. I started to throw him out but he got away before I could get my fingers on him. Then, as I was leaving, I ran into Rocco."

Henry's voice quickened with concern. "What happened?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. He warned me to get out of town."

"The devil he did!"

I nodded. "He said he'd warned Walnut too, but the guy wouldn't listen. 'Always going around taking pictures,' Rocco said, 'taking pictures of everything.' Does that suggest anything to you?"

Henry looked blank. "What in the devil are you talking about now?"

I shrugged. "Maybe nothing. It's just an idea. Johnny was always taking pictures of everything. I never saw him without a camera, even if it were only a little one."

"That's true."

"And I'll bet anything that he had several cameras mounted around his dark-room. I'll bet you that some way, somehow, he managed to snap a picture of the man who killed him."

Henry was staring at me. "Why—but that's absurd. It was a dark room, the light wouldn't be good enough to get a picture, even a time exposure; and certainly the murderer, whoever he was, wouldn't stand still long enough to have his picture taken."

"Ever hear of infra-red film?" I asked.

I saw by his expression that he had.

"You don't need light to take pictures with that," I went on. "Don't you see? Johnny was a camera nut if I ever knew one. He used to delight in snapping me when I knew nothing about it and then showing me the candid shots. I'm going to call his sister—no, she said she was going over to stay with a cousin in Jamaica tonight. I'll have to catch her in the morning."

"Aren't you going to call the police?"

I shrugged. "Look, I tried to get the police to do something for me today and they acted as if their hands were tied behind their backs. I'm going to handle this myself. Maybe the idea is screwy. Maybe there isn't any camera or any film, but if there is, I'll find it in the morning."

He nodded, "I can see your point."

"And that's not all," I told him thoughtfully. "Rocco is getting scared."

"Scared? Are you crazy? From what you've said about that guy he isn't the kind that would get scared at anything."

I shrugged. "Maybe not, but he's gone out of his way to warn me to get out of town. If he wasn't scared of something, why should he bother? I think I know what's the matter with him."

"What?"

I said, "Let's look at it this way: Rocco got a break when Johnny was killed. Rocco was in the hospital at the time, and he can prove it. I think what's worrying him now is that he fears that something will happen to me, that the cops know that he and I had trouble and that they'll try to pin my death on him. Maybe he wouldn't be so lucky this time. Maybe he wouldn't have an alibi."

Gaylord nodded slowly. "I see your point. He knows that something's going to happen to you and he doesn't want to be blamed, so he's trying to get you out of town before this happens. Right?"

"It frames up that way."

"And who do you think is behind this?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Wilton. He seems to turn up at every opportunity."

"We'd better get you a bodyguard," Henry suggested. "We can't have anything happen to you."

"Then you don't think I should leave town for a while?"

He shrugged. "Suit yourself about that. If it were me, I'd go quick, but I'm not as knuckle-headed as you are. If I can help . . ."

"There's nothing you can do," I told him. "You might as well keep out of it. If anything should happen to me, you'll have to run the agency, but I've a notion that I can put the bite on Rocco and make him talk. The ape-man is beginning to get nervous. Funny as it sounds, I don't think he likes murder."

SIX: Killer's Motive

COMING out of my own apartment an hour later, I stopped to light a cigarette. As I ducked my head above the match flame something struck the corner just above my head, and a tiny chip of stone fell onto the sidewalk at my feet.

My reaction was purely instinctive as I jumped back into the doorway. I stood there in the shadow, staring out at the street.

It was quiet. A block over the Madison Avenue traffic made a steady hum, but there were only a few pedestrians and one cab within the block.

I looked at them searchingly, but none paid any attention to me. Then I reached around gingerly and felt the facing stone from which the chip had come.

There was a scar and I'd have taken my oath that it had come from a bullet, a bullet from a silenced gun. I started to shake. It wasn't from fear, but from reaction. This had gone far enough. It had to stop, or I wouldn't be around long.

I went back into the apartment, slipped through the side door and went hurriedly toward the corner of the avenue where I caught a cab, giving the driver the address of the girls' apartment.

It was Janet who let me in. She was dressed for the street with a little cocky hat perched on one side of her head and a veil shrouding her marred features. Not until that moment did I remember that I'd told them to be ready to leave.

"No reservations," I said. ''I'm sorry, I should have let you know. Has anything happened since I was here?"

"Wilton came, and then Rocco."

I stared at her. "Did they get in?"

She shook her head. "I talked to them through the speaking tube. Wilton wanted to know if you'd gone to the cops. Rocco was slinging threats as usual. Funny thing, I got the idea he was scared."

I stared at her. This girl was smart. She didn't miss many bets and she had nerve. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have bucked in the first place and wouldn't have had the acid thrown in her face.

Trim, too, a good model, and with the veil no one could distinguish the acid burns. I found myself liking her more, respecting her more than anyone I'd met in a long time.

"Look," I said. "I got the same idea about Rocco that you did. I've got the idea that the heat is on him and that he doesn't like it. If I play it right, I may be able to make him talk. Do you happen to know where he lives."

She didn't waste time asking questions. She said, "I don't know, but I know where I could find out. One of the girls followed him one night." She turned and, walking to the phone; dialed a number. She talked for a couple of minutes, then hung up, turned and gave me the address.

I nodded. "Thanks. Keep your door locked and I'll phone you as soon as I get through."

"Oh no you won't," she told me. "I'm going along. This I want to see."

"Now wait. Rocco's an ugly customer."

"You're telling me." She touched the veil. "Don't you think I've got a little right to see the rat squirm? There isn't much of anything he can do to me that hasn't already been done."

Her tone was bitter and I realized just how much those acid burns had meant to her, how it had wrecked her life.

"Come on, then."

Terri appeared from the bedroom. She also was dressed for the street and she said, ''I'm going too." There was a little tremor in her voice but her tone was resolute.

I hesitated, but I figured they would be safer if there were two of them. "Come on," I said, and led the way down to the waiting cab.

IT WASN'T far to Rocco's apartment and it was the same type of building. I didn't press the button under his mail box, as I didn't want the man to have any warning of our coming. Instead I hunted up the janitor, told him that we were giving a surprise party for Rocco and that we wanted the pass key to his apartment.

The man eyed me, then the two girls. I guess he figured that if I'd been planning any funny stuff I wouldn't have brought a couple of women with me. He traded the key for a twenty-dollar bill and went on about his business.

We went up the stairs quietly and I eased the key into the lock. If Rocco was there I meant to walk in before he had any warning of our presence. If he wasn't, I meant to wait until he returned.

The door swung open and I stepped in. There was no light in the apartment and I said to Janet in a low voice, "I guess he's not home. Well, we told the janitor we wanted to surprise him and I think when he walks in, Mr. Rocco will be very, very surprised."

I went on ahead, switching up the living- room light—and then I stopped.

Rocco was home. He sat in a chair, facing the door; his round bullet head fallen forward so that I could see only a part of the small hole that marred his forehead. He was quite dead.

Terri gave a gasping little cry. Janet made no sound at all. She just stood there, staring down at the ape-like man. The veil screened her face so that I had no idea of her expression.

She said, in a controlled voice: "It seems that someone had the same idea we did, that Rocco was scared and ready to talk. Someone made very certain that he wouldn't talk."

I nodded. "Look, you girls get back home and stay there. I've got an errand."

She looked at me and I had the sensation that this girl could read my mind. "What kind of errand?"

I shrugged. "One that I'd have taken care of sooner if I wasn't a fool."

"I'm going," she said, flatly.

"It's something that has to be done alone," I said. "If too many go, it will spoil it."

"We can wait in the cab," she said, and that was that. There was no use arguing with her. I relocked the door, praying that the janitor wouldn't see us. I didn't want to be held up with explanations to the police. But we saw nothing of him and gained the cab without incident.

I told the driver to park a block down the street from Johnny's, and traveled the remaining distance on foot, leaving the girls in the cab. I gave them strict orders not to move unless I failed to show up within half an hour, then they were to call the police.

As I neared the building, my heart started thumping faster, for there was a light burning in Johnny's apartment. I tried to control myself. Maybe the sister hadn't gone away, after all. Maybe... but still, I'd get a chance to look at the dark-room.

SOFTLY I advanced toward the apartment door, pulling the gun from my pocket and letting off the safety. The door was unlocked. I eased the knob over and thrust it open softly, listening for any sound of movement from within. There was none. I stepped in and eased the door shut, moving forward on soundless feet, the gun ever ready.

If the sister was home, she was in for a bad scare, but I couldn't help that. I moved to the living-room door and peered in. It was empty. So were the bedrooms and kitchen. That left only the dark-room at the end of the hall, and I drew a deep breath as I grasped the knob and thrust the door open. It was black inside. I stepped sideways so that I wouldn't be outlined in the rectangle of light—and I waited, holding my breath, listening until I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, but I could hear nothing else.

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. "I know you're in here, show yourself."

Nothing happened, only the heavy silence bore in upon me. My nerves snapped. I didn't care what happened. I had to have some light, even if it brought the shot that killed me. I reached over and clicked up the switch.

Aside from myself the room was empty.

My knees seemed to turn to water and there was cold sweat across my forehead. I wiped it away with the back of a hand that trembled. I hadn't realized the strain I was under until that moment and I laughed aloud, laughed at myself. A touch of hysteria in the sound brought me to my senses. This wouldn't do. The murderer had evidently been here and gone, leaving the lights on—or the sister had forgotten to turn them off before leaving.

I looked around the dark-room. There were some twenty cameras in the place, some set up, others not. The thing to do was to remove all the films that the various cameras held, take them and have them developed. I set about it, shoving the gun into my pocket.

I must have been there ten minutes when a voice from the doorway said softly:

"Having fun?"

I swung around to see. Henry Gaylord in the doorway, smiling at me, a gun held loosely in his big hand. "Surprised?"

"No," I told him, slowly. "Not since I found Rocco. I wasn't much surprised even then, although up to that moment it had seemed impossible."

"That's the trouble with you," he said. "You've sold yourself on the idea that you're the great Austin Green, that nothing can touch you."

I shook my head. "Wrong, Henry. Where I failed was in being able to believe that a man I trusted could want something so badly that he would be willing to kill to get it."

He laughed at me. "And you set this little trap, up in your office, didn't you? You expected to walk in and catch me?"

I shrugged.

He said: "You had it wrong. I'm not a complete fool. I could see what you were thinking, so I set a trap for you. I hurried out here, made certain there was no infra-red film in any of the cameras, then I left the lights on and went outside. I wanted to see if you'd bring the cops with you. I rather thought you wouldn't, knowing how certain of yourself you are. I waited and saw you come in alone. I made sure no cops were hanging around, then I came in."

"To finish me?"

He nodded. "To finish you."

"Tell me," I said, and I was really curious, "have you always intended to kill me to get me out of the way so you could take over the agency?"

He shook his head. "I was trying to build one of my own. I had Rocco organize those girls. I meant at the right time to step in, offer to protect them from Rocco and start an agency. I had my eye on that Terri Hall. She's got something. Walnut was right. I was so mad at him when I found him gumming my game that I came out here to fix things. Then, after he was dead, I realized that if you were dead, too, I'd have the whole works."

MY MOUTH felt dry. "Are you going to beat me to death, the way you did Johnny?"

He shook his head. "A shot will be quicker. I tried it outside your apartment. If I'd connected then, this wouldn't have been necessary."

"Okay," I said, stiffly. "Go ahead, let's get it over with." There was no use stalling. I'd told, the girls to call the police if I wasn't back at the cab, but I knew they'd never arrive in time.

He said: "I got no pleasure from killing Walnut. I was mad. I'm not now, but I'm going to enjoy this. I've hated your guts, Austin, ever since I've worked for you. I've hated your high-and-mighty attitude as if you were playing God. Count ten, my friend, count as fast or as slowly as you like, because when you reach ten, I'm going to squeeze this trigger."

"No," said a calm voice behind him. "Not unless you want a bullet between your shoulder blades. Drop the gun." 

It was Janet, her veil pulled back to show the scars across her face, her little gun in her hand.

Gaylord turned. He didn't drop his gun, and she fired. The light-caliber bullet struck him in the chest, but it didn't knock him down.

He said, savagely, "It's you, huh? Acid wasn't enough. Take this then."

I jumped against him from the rear, jiggling his gun arm so that the bullet went over Janet's head. He dropped his gun but he wasn't through. He swung back, his arms locking about me and I realized that I under the layer of soft fat were muscles that would put Rocco to shame.

I felt the breath being squeezed out of my lungs. I felt sick and dizzy. I tried to break the grip and failed. It seemed to draw only that much tighter. I beat at him with my fists, but I knew that my blows were getting weaker. The bullet from Janet's little gun seemed to have no effect; at least it hadn't sapped his strength.

But Janet wasn't through. She'd caught up the heavier gun and now she clubbed him with it. He turned away from me, like a bull, cornered, and tried to snatch the gun from her.

I measured him and put everything I had into the blow to the chin. It rocked him back on his heels and I struck again and again, beating him down before me, remembering Johnny's broken body, remembering Janet's scarred face. Even after he slumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, I kept on hammering. I think I'd have beaten the life from him if Jane hadn't caught my arm and hauled me back.

"Austin, stop it, stop it!"

Her words came faintly through the red haze that seemed to surround me. I shook my head and some of the roaring went out of my ears. She held my shoulders, shaking me. "All right?"

"All right," I told her, thickly.

She held on for a moment longer, then she turned and, walking to the phone, called the police.

THE cops had come and taken Gaylord away. I walked slowly to the cab with a girl on either side of me. "That's over," I said. "Are you going to report to my office tomorrow, Terri?"

Terri nodded.

Janet said, musingly, "It's strange that a man like Gaylord—when did you suspect him first?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really know it was him until we found Rocco, but little things all along the line point to him now that I know. First, he knew about this models' association of Rocco's although I'd never heard of it. Then, he knew that it was Johnny that had interested me in Terri. No one else, not even Wilton, or Rocco could know that. Also, he knew Johnny had taken Terri home. I was a fool to miss seeing it sooner, but he'd worked for me, been with me... Let's forget him and think about you."