When Cynthia finally got home a day later she fell into bed and stayed there for two days. Upon leaving Mr. Jackson she had climbed into a taxi and immediately fainted before she could give the driver her address. He had taken one horrified look at her battered face and driven her to the hospital. There they had taken care of her lacerations, stitched up the worst one and put her to bed. She had refused to tell them what had happened to her, and they finally dismissed her from the hospital, warning her to take it easy for a few days.
While lying in bed, her body tender and aching, her scratches now long lines of dark red scabs, her bruises making her flesh look like rotten eggplant, she wondered what to do next. To return to the advertising agency was impossible. And how would she ever explain what had happened? She was even afraid that Bill, missing her at the office, might come over to her room.
Rent day was fast approaching and she had no money; she had left her purse at the office, not that it made such difference, as there wasn't much money in it, anyway.
She crawled painfully out of her bed and got her piggy bank from the top of her bureau. With the heel of her shoe she smashed it and carefully counted up the $2.54 it contained. She obviously needed money and fast; at least until she was in condition again to start looking for a job. But the problem was to whom was she to go for help? She didn't dare write her parents for that would entail impossible explanations. She ruled out her aunt for the same reason.
Finally, she decided to go to Frankie. To him she could tell her story and, believing that he loved her just as much as she loved him, she was certain he would help her. However, she wasn't sure how to find him; he had always called her to make a date which they had spent either in public places or in her own room. He had never taken her to his own apartment nor even told her the address. Well, then she would go back to the "960 Club" where they had gone several times; she remembered his saying once that he was usually there about seven o'clock every evening.
Late the next afternoon she got up, dressed, tried to cover her bruised face and swollen black eye with powder and make up, and took the bus to south State Street. There was a sprinkling of men and women in the bar and the strippers were hard at work. She went back-stage, ignoring the whistles and derisive remarks about her black eye, and asked for Torchy. Torchy was in her dressing room, seated before the mirror, gluing on a pair of false eyelashes. When Cynthia came in, she turned and stared.
"My Gawd, honey," she exclaimed, "what happened to you? Did you fall down a manhole and swim through the sewers or what?"
"No, I… it was just an accident."
"Yes, I should think so. Hardly something one would do deliberately, dearie." She patted the chair next her, "Here, sit down. That is, if your tail doesn't look like your face."
She reached under the table, purled out a couple of glasses and a half-empty bottle.
"Here, how about a drink. Nothing like a little gin to cure a black eye."
"Thanks, Torchy," Cynthia said. "I do look awful, don't I?" She sighed, peering in the mirror at her swollen, purple and yellow face.
"Honey, if you were any more bruised up I could sell you to the butcher. Now what happened?"
"Well, just one of those things. Really, if you don't mind, I'd rather not explain." She smiled at her. "I'd rather just forget the whole thing."
"Okay, honey. Your privilege. But have some more gin, anyway." She turned back to the mirror and picked up the other fringe of eyelash.
"Has Frankie been around here lately?" Cynthia asked.
"Frankie? Yeah, he's in here every night about this time. He'll probably be along soon. Why? Want him to heat the guy up?"
Cynthia laughed. "No, just like to see him."
"I'll go out front and tell Joe to send him back when he shows. You stay here and take it easy." She got up and left, leaving behind her the scent of a musky perfume.
A few minutes later she put her head in the door.
"Joe'll send him back, honey. I've got to go out and entertain the jerks." She smiled at her. "Don't fall off the chair and break your skull. And help yourself to the cat-brew."
Twenty minutes afterwards Frankie hurried into the room. Without saying a word he pulled her up and held her in his arms, kissed her tenderly, and touched her bruised face with a gentle finger.
She buried her head on his shoulder and began crying softly. "Oh, Frankie darling. I'm so glad to see you. It was so awful." He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
"Kid, you've really had it. Who did it?"
She told him the story, explained her financial status and asked him if he could lend her some money until she could find another job.
"Sure, baby. I'll take care of you. Don't worry about a thing. And don't worry about paying me back yet. There's no rush, honey."
He kissed her as she began to thank him.
"Now lay off the thanks-routine, baby. I'll help you all I can."
When she had quieted down, he added, "Stay here awhile. I've got to see some cats out front and then we'll go out for a couple steaks. And tomorrow we'll see about finding you another pad – just in case your buddy comes around."
He filled up her glass with gin, took a big drink and left.
During the next week while her bruises were gradually disappearing, Frankie helped her find another place to stay, an apartment much nicer than her old one. When she protested that she probably wouldn't be able to afford it, even after she had found a job, he urged her to take it anyway, saying, "I'm taking care of you, remember? I'll make up the difference, baby, until you can swing it yourself." Then he gave her some money to buy some new clothes, "To cheer you up and besides, you'll need them for your new job." Thus, she felt reassured and happy that Frankie was the one who was helping her, for she interpreted his generosity as proof that he loved her as much as she discovered she loved him. And for him, she thought, I'd do just anything, anything at all.
With Frankie providing money for all her needs, she found it more than easy to put off looking for a job. Finally, however, she mentally added up all the money he had given her, both directly and indirectly in gifts and, horrified at the total, resolved that she would begin looking for a job so she could start paying him back.
But that night Frankie came over. Before going out they climbed into the bed to roll a quick one. Afterwards they lay quietly and had a cigarette.
"Cindy, baby, I hate to spoil the ball we've been having, but I'm getting kind of low on dough. I owe some to a guy and he's really snapping at my ass."
"I'm sorry, darling," she said apologetically. "I was adding up today how much I owe you and decided to start looking for a job tomorrow. But I wasn't going to tell you until I'd found one and surprise you. Really, you've been marvelous and I do want to start paying you back. I'll take just any job I can find."
"Jobs are pretty hard to find, though. You know, it's stupid of you to slave away at a joint like that agency and drag down such damn little loot. 'Specially with your looks."
"I know. I hate the thought of another job like that. And I'd hate to go back to a dingy one-room hole. But I'm not really qualified to do much better."
"Yeah, that's a problem. Wouldn't give you enough money to live it up, buy glad-rags, take a swell vacation – just work eight hours a day for nothing."
"Oh, Frankie," she wailed, "you make it sound awful!"
"Well baby, I've been thinking." He paused and lit another cigarette.
"Yess?"
"You could do a lot better than just another job. And make a lot more money."
She waited, not saying anything.
"Look, I really need some dough, but fast. It so happens that we can make seventy-five bucks right off – in fact, tomorrow night."
"Really? How?"
"It's like this. I was at the club the other day and this cat I know comes up and says he's arranging for some clambake for a convention that's in town. He needs a couple of girls and says he'll pay 'em seventy-five bucks – now don't look so startled. All he wants 'em for is to be carried in on some platters, or God knows what, to decorate the joint and liven things up. That's all you'd have to do. I thought of you right away."
"Seventy-five dollars just for that?"
"Well, of course, you'd have to be almost nude…"
"Nude!"
"Now come off it, honey. You know damn well you'd love to have that beautiful young body of yours stared at."
He smiled at her. "You'd be doing me a real big favor, kid. Come on. Then I can pay this guy off."
"Well, I don't know," she said slowly. "I do want to help you, Frankie, really I do… but… well… nude…"
He just looked at her.
"All right, Frankie. I'll do it. If you're sure it's okay."
"That's my baby! I knew I could count on you!"
He gave her a kiss and slightly slapped her rump.
"I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" He reached over to his coat hanging on the back of a chair near the bed and pulled out a cigarette case from the inside pocket.
"Here, baby, try one of these." He snapped the lid up. Inside lay several cigarettes, normal looking except that they were much thinner, almost half as slim as a regular one.
She picked one out and looked at it curiously. "What funny cigarettes. What are they?"
"Joints."
"Joints?"
"Yeah. Pot."
"Pot? What's pot?"
"Marijuana, baby, the greatest."
"Marijuana? You mean dope?"
He laughed. "Yeah. Dirty dope. Come on, baby. Try it." He struck a match and lit them up.
She reluctantly took a drag. "They're sort of sweet."
"Yeah. But you gotta really draw it in. Like this." He lay back, his eyes closed and took a huge drag, holding it down for a long time.
She lay back and imitated him. Soon her cheeks grew warm and her eyes felt strange; she closed them and took another drag, holding it down as long as she could. With this, her first marijuana cigarette, she at first was slightly nauseous, but then the sensation passed and she began to feel completely relaxed and at peace with the world, her body light and buoyant.
Frankie's hand, which had been lying on her stomach, moved slowly downward until his fingers reached the waiting lips of her vagina.
Cynthia shifted her position. The lettuce leaves tickled her. Through the closed swinging doors filtered a discordant blare of men's voices, some talking loudly, some laughing, some singing, which swelled into an ear-splitting roar each time the doors swung open to admit a hurrying waiter.
A fat, round-faced man, chewing on a dead cigar, came bustling through the door.
"You girlies ready? You're on in a few minutes. Now come on!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Come on now. Give the boys a big smile!" He bounced down the line of girls arrayed on platters. "Hey, Hank, damn it, come here! Take some of these damn French Fries off. They're covering up her cunt too damn much!"
"This is the corniest deal I've ever seen!" a girl ahead of Cynthia said disgustedly. "God-damn shrimps yet! And you can't even eat the damn things." She was sitting cross legged on a huge silver platter, shrimp made of paper piled up to her waist. Above the mound rose her torso, her bare breasts large and heavy, shaking like two tremendous bowls of Jello as she shrugged her shoulders and then flipped away her cigarette.
"Yeah, these jerks have the imaginations of toad-stools." On another platter stood a majestic looking cake, in the middle of which sat a willowy girl, nude except for a long mane of black hair and a narrow ribbon, set low around her hips which read in large red letters, "The Roto-Flex Sewer Cleaning Corp. – Keeps Your Sewers Free!"
"Hey, you," the man yelled, "get back in that cake. We're ready to go on."
"Keep your fly buttoned, buddy," she said. She snuggled down inside the paper cake and a waiter put the top couple of layers over her head. Through the paper her muffled voice, "Jeez. I've had to pop out so many damn cakes I've got candles growin' in my ears."
"Yeah, but at least you're dry. God, I'll be stinkin' for weeks," said a red-head sitting in a tremendous bowl of orange colored punch, her pear-shaped breasts floating and bobbing on the surface. "I hope someone here knows life-saving."
The girl in front of Cynthia twisted around in her fake lobster shell and winked at her. On her head was a cap made to look like a lobster's head, the feelers waving around like three-foot radio aerials. "You new in this game? You look a little jittery," she said.
"A little," Cynthia said. She was lying on her side on a platter of lettuce leaves, a large green leaf draped over her mound like a G-string.
"Okay, gals, here we go! A great big smile now!"
Four waiters picked up the platter of shrimp, resting it on their shoulders, and disappeared through the door. A tremendous outburst of cheering, stamping and whistling surged through the door. Shortly thereafter, the French Fries and the lobster followed and then Cynthia on her bed of lettuce. Trying to see through the haze of smoke, she smiled grimly as the platter swayed down the aisle towards the head table which was set on a raised platform, the other tables branching out in a big horseshoe. On each side men stood on their chairs to get a better look, laughed and shouted, reached out their hands to touch her; one man, his eyes glazed with liquor, his tie half-off, tired to climb over the table and fell flat on his face, broken glass and crockery flying in all directions. Behind her Cynthia saw the red-head gaily waving to the men from her bowl of punch and tossing orange peels at them. The platters were set down in a row on the head table. Looking over the crowd, all she could see was a nightmarish sea of waving arms, shouting mouths and lustful beady eyes. By the time the black haired girl had popped out of her cake and was striding up and down on top of the table, hand on her hips, her breasts jiggling, her buttocks twitching saucily; the room was in pandemonium.
As she had been instructed, Cynthia got up from her platter and warily strutted over the tops of the tables; hands and arms waved around her like the tentacles of a dozen octopi.
"Me for that lobster," someone shouted.
"Hey, Oskar, how about some fuckin' salad?" A drunken face leered up at her, his hands snatching at the leaf covering her pubic mound.
"Yeah, man, off with the leaf!"
A chair crashed and someone screamed. She glanced behind her and saw the red-head trying to climb out of the bowl; orange punch trickled down her body, dripped from her breasts and ran stickily down her thighs while she struggled with a man who had fallen half-way into the bowl, one arm submerged, the other circling her leg. The white tablecloth turned orange as the punch slowly spread outward. A plate of melted ice cream flew through the air and caught the lobster girl in the stomach. She staggered as the chocolate oozed down her belly and over her legs and she toppled backward to disappear in a clump of clawing arms. At the same time she felt the leaf being torn away and a rough hand seized her by the crotch and pulled her forward. She fell over, headfirst, and landed on top of someone. They both crashed to the floor and a dozen hands were on her. As she kicked and screamed, she heard someone shouting above the din and saw a burly, ginger-haired fellow trying to pull the men off of her.
"Stop, you bastards! You'll kill her!" He jerked one of them up and gave him a swift punch in the jaw and reached down and dragged another one up. She slithered out from under a man who had fallen on top of her in a sudden drunken heap, leaped to her feet and ran through the door into the kitchen. There she collapsed against a table. Someone shoved a glass of whiskey in her hand. Behind her the waiters were guarding the door and bringing in the other girls one by one, each more disheveled than the last.
Cursing all men, they went off to a back room, got dressed and returned to the kitchen. The man who had hired them was there, wiping the back of his neck with a handkerchief. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, it's all in the game, girls. You can't say you didn't get paid well."
He signaled to Cynthia and the black-haired girl who had been in the cake.
"There's a couple of the boys would like to meet you two." He laughed. "More than a couple, but these two asked me to give you this." He handed them a note. They opened it and read: "Hope you're okay. How about skipping this brawl and going out on the town? Fred and Pat."
The girl looked at Cynthia, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Sure, what've we got to loose? Okay by me. I can't handle fifty, but I sure as hell can handle one."
Cynthia hesitated. "Yes, I guess so."
Turning to the man, the girl said, "You tell 'em we'll meet 'em out front. I'm not going out there with those drunken apes again." She turned to Cynthia. "Come on, sugar, let's blow this joint."
They got their coats, left by a back entrance, walked around to the front of the building and entered the lobby.
"My name's 'Honey'," she said, "what's yours, sugar?"
"Cynthia."
"We've probably got a long night ahead of us. We'd better hit 'em for the same thing. What do you think they'll go for?"
"What?"
"What do you think they're worth? What's the matter? You new in this game? You look pretty green at that."
"Yes, I guess so. This is the first time I've been out like this."
"Jeez! Honey always draws 'em!" She sighed. "Well don't worry, kid. We're all in it together and for the same thing. But for God's sake don't act green and spoil our pitch. You couldn't have gotten this far without somethin' between your legs besides a Tampax."
Honey opened her purse, took out her compact and dabbed at her nose.
"I'll figure they'll go for at least fifty. Watch me and I'll give you the tip-off."
"Fifty dollars? Apiece?" Cynthia exclaimed.
She snapped her compact shut. "What did you think? Fifty cents? Jeez, sugar, where you been all your life?"
She took out a comb and ran it through her black hair. "Maybe more. Look, when I get up and go to the can, come with me and we'll talk it over." She looked down the hall. "This looks like it might be our mighty heroes now. At least they don't have white hair and aren't crawlin' on their knees."
As Cynthia watched the two men approach, she grew more and more nervous. When she had read the note, it had never occurred to her then that going out with them would entail more than having a couple of drinks at some bar or nightclub. It was only when Honey had mentioned the fifty dollars that she realized they wanted more than a few sociable drinks with her. At first she had almost backed out on the deal, but then she thought how surprised and pleased Frankie would be if she returned with an extra fifty.
They went to a nightclub. After a couple of dances with Fred, Honey said she was going to powder her nose, so Cynthia got up and followed her to the Ladies' Room.
"How you comin' with your Joe, sugar? He said anything yet?" Honey said.
"You mean about tonight?"
"Natch."
"Well, he's hinted around at it, but nothing direct."
"You'll soon learn to make 'em lay it on the line," Honey said. "No use screwin' around if they aren't goin' to shell out. Anyway, it's all set. They want to do it together, so I told 'em it'd be seventy-five bucks."
"Seventy-five? Really?"
"Yeah. You game to do it together?"
"You mean in the same room?"
"Natch."
"Why, yes, I guess so," Cynthia said hesitantly, a cloud of doubt and dread coming through her mind. She had never expected things to reach this stage and just hoped against hope that she could go through with the arrangement. She just couldn't go home to Frankie like this with no money and if she were careful in what she said, he would never know how she really got it.
"There's a hotel where I work a lot a couple of blocks from here. We'll get a kick-back from the manager if we take them there. That'll be another five bucks."
"A-Alright," Cynthia forced herself to smile. She wished with all her heart there were some other way to do this but she had gone too far now to back out. Besides, one time wouldn't hurt and she could explain to Frankie that they had been given an extra big tip from the other job.
"Look, kid," she could hear Honey saying through her thoughts. "Just play it cool. Those aren't exactly in the prime of life, so if we play around a bit and wear 'em out, they're already so stoned they won't be good for more than one time around. Okay?"
Cynthia nodded her head in agreement and Honey took them in a cab to the hotel she had mentioned earlier. They rented two adjoining rooms and then all moved into one of them. Pat, the guy that had taken a liking to Cynthia, had a bottle of Scotch and rang down for some ice. Cynthia drank hers quickly in spite of the disapproving look from Honey when the men had prepared the drinks. She had to have some kind of fortification if she were going to go through with this ordeal. Making love in private was one thing, but with other people watching, that was something different. Pat was delighted to see her drinking so heavily.
"Hey, I think I got a hot one here, ole buddy," he said loudly to the other ruddy complexioned man. "Look at 'er swill that stuff down."
It felt good and she quickly drank another, feeling her inhibitions lessening with each further drink. The men were delighted and it wasn't long before they were stripping the girls of their clothing and pulling their own off at the same time. By this time, Cynthia was feeling no pain. The alcohol had done its job and she shifted her position with each further piece of clothing that Pat stripped from her to aid his fumbling hands. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the man with Honey peeled her clothes from her body at the same time. She was surprised to see that the girl was still built so solid and well after the time she had been in the business. She was well rounded and firm in all the critical spots and did not sag at all like some of the strippers Cynthia had seen in the club Mike had taken her to.
When she was completely naked, Pat pushed her to one of the single beds and she let herself fall back without resistance into the softness of the mattress while he finished stripping his remaining clothing away.
She looked to the other bed and gasped slightly to see that the other man had wasted no time. He had pried Honey's willing legs open and was poised on his hands over her body. His long thick cock hanging down between them caused Cynthia to shift her body nervously down against the mattress. She had never seen one so huge. It was absolutely monstrous and she was glad Pat had chosen tonight. She didn't know if she could have taken the other man inside her without being split wide open. Pat joined her on the bed and curled his arms around her, pulling her close to him.
"Let's watch ole Fred give it to your girlfriend first, shall we baby?"
Cynthia nodded her head, feeling his hand close over her breast. She was surprised as suddenly how nice it felt with this complete stranger.
"Ooooooooh, Daddy, take it easy," Honey groaned as Cynthia saw the huge, thick rod of flesh sliding slowly down into her girlfriend's vagina. She gasped as she watched the tight pink lips of her cunt being stretched wide, wide apart and Honey kicking her legs out wider to open her loins more for the giant entry. It stopped for a moment, about halfway in, as though it could force its way no farther and Cynthia held her breath, squirming her body back against the man lying next to her in her sudden excitement at the obscene but captivating sight going on right next to them. Faraway memories of the bull in the pen flickered through her mind as she saw suddenly the back muscles of the man fucking Honey tense, and a hoarse moan of passion ripple from deep in his chest and then with one mighty lunge he speared his white rod of flesh all the way down to the thick pulsating base between the widespread legs of the quivering girl beneath him.
"Oooooooooh," Honey groaned and her legs splayed out wide on either side of the man's body, her feet quivered in the air out over the edge of the bed, her toes curling and uncurling without control. His balls smacked sharply against the tiny, puckered hole of her anus. She screamed softly, the sound muffled by his shoulder pressing into her mouth. Cynthia's eyes gaped open wide as then he began a slow thrusting in and out movement, a soft, wet, sucking sound drifting across the distance from their moist sexual coupling. She found herself clenching her own thighs tightly together in a vain attempt to still the slow, but quickening throbs that were beginning deep in her own belly. The man behind her pressed closer into her back and she could feel his hard pulsating flesh growing back between the soft warm cheeks of her buttocks. His hands were around in front of her now and cupping the full resilient mounds of her pulsating breasts. He had the tiny, bud-like nipples rolled softly between his thumb and forefinger and was tweaking them gently in rhythm to the movements of the man fucking her girlfriend on the squeaking bed next to them. Her body trembled and quivered as she felt him begin to move behind her, insinuating the hardness of his cock slowly along the flaccid crevice of her buttocks and up between her thighs from behind. It was a strange, almost unreal sensation to feel the thick shaft of flesh crawling like an unseen snake between her tightly pressed legs.
"Relax, baby, and open 'em," the man whispered into her ear as she kept her eyes straight ahead, locked on the lewd spectacle taking place in front of her. The man fucking Honey had increased his speed to an almost desperate rate now and Cynthia could see with a vivid, sensual clarity, the tight pink lips clasped tightly around his cock as they pulled out with his withdrawal as though they didn't want to let go of the magic plunging instrument and then as they disappeared fleshily inside again with each hard, almost brutal in-stroke. The thin, black forest of her pubic hair was wet and matted between her legs from the moistness of the juices flowing between them and the man's cock glistened wet and sensuously from the light of the single uncovered bulb hanging from the ceiling of the cheap hotel room.
Cynthia trembled again and her body felt hot and uncomfortable as though she itched from head to foot and could not control the movements of her buttocks and pelvis that squirmed and writhed back against the hot, fleshy belly of the man teasing her from behind.
"Crawl up on your knees, baby," he said hotly through the mass of her long, blond hair pressed against his face. And Cynthia did, quickly and with relief. She was beyond all control now and had to have something inside her or go completely out of her mind.
She moved quickly, rolling on her stomach and rising on all fours, making certain her head was pointing toward the lewd, writhing bodies entwined like snakes on the bed next to them. The man moved around behind her and rose up to kneel between her thighs, pushing them open wide with his own knees to allow him to move right up to the naked plane of her white, soft buttocks waving invitingly back at him.
There were no preliminaries, and none were needed. The whole of Cynthia's loins were wet and open now from the sensual impact of watching the other couple's violent intercourse on the next bed. The man shuffled forward behind her and with both hands kneading and cupping the twin ivory globes of her buttocks, spread them wide apart. She groaned in uncontrollable impatience and thrusting her hand down underneath her body between her wide spread legs she grasped the thickness of his cock and guided the giant pulsating head straight toward the open wet lips of her cunt. She moved it up and down quickly in the warm, pink slit between her thighs, parting the soft, blond pubic hair that covered the tender, protective folds of flesh and then screwing her buttocks back on it to impale herself on the first full inch of it. She groaned and pleaded, as she knelt before the utter stranger who had bought her body for the evening's pleasure, like a demented nymphomaniac. The hot licking fire roaring between her wet throbbing loins had to be quenched.
"God, what an ass," she heard the man behind her mumbling crazily to himself. And then she went mad with the cruel uncontrollable desire licking through her.
"Go on!! Go on, God-dammit…! Fuck me… Ooooooooooh, fuck me like he's doing it to her…" Her eyes were still glued smokily to the long, thick shaft of flesh burying itself in hard, deep thrusts between Honey's jerking thighs.
"Aaaaaaghhhh!" she screamed, half in pain, half in relief, as the man behind her suddenly rammed forward with all his strength and plunged his rigid cock far, far up into her quivering belly. She could feel the flesh of the inside of her cunt being pushed in giant, flaccid waves before the tunneling entrance of the monstrous and unstoppable instrument plunging without mercy deep up inside her.
"Ooooh, baby, you got a tight little pussy," he droned behind her as without waiting he began a series of long hard strokes into her kneeling body that caused her breasts to dance and jiggle beneath her chest as though they were alive. She grunted and churned back against him with each hard, driving lunge, her face contorted into a strained mask of undisguised passion that matched the wet, sucking sounds like someone walking in quicksand that came from behind her wildly squirming buttocks.
It took but a moment until she felt herself erupting inside like a giant explosion rolling across the earth. At the same time, she could feel his hot, white, sperm flooding into the flowering recess of her belly, filling her womb almost to the bursting point. The ruddy skinned man fucking Honey suddenly groaned too, and Cynthia, still throbbing out her own passion around the spurting rod of flesh sunk deep in her own belly could see him sink his huge, white cock deep down between her girlfriend's legs and his buttocks begin jerking as though he were attached to an electric wire. Thick rivulets of white sticky cum bubbled out around his tight, flesh clasped instrument and rolled down Honey's buttocks to the sheet below.
It ended for all of them at the same wild instantaneous moment and Cynthia jerked forward and fell flat down on her stomach, dragging the still connected man who had fucked her from behind down with her. She could still feel slight dribbles of sperm emptying into her from his deflating penis though his arms and body lay lifeless and spent on top of her back.
Later, the girls dressed and left the men passed out on the bed. Cynthia felt horrible about the way she had let her body run away with her with that strange man who had paid her for her services, thereby labeling her a prostitute. She tired not to show it to Honey and accepted silently the additional five dollars she collected for their "kickback" when they left the hotel. She waved good-bye to her at the entrance to the hotel and flagged a taxi. One thing she made up her mind to do, even though she knew it would be hard, and that was to tell Frankie what had happened. He was certain to find out as Honey would undoubtedly mention it to someone he knew. She just hoped against hope, that she wouldn't mention the fact that Cynthia had actually let herself get carried away. She could never as long as she lived admit to Frankie that she had enjoyed it with a total stranger that way.