"Paula Moore," Sammy said aloud as he sat in his car in front of one of the larger hotels. He was to meet her in the cocktail lounge and wait if she wasn't there.
She's probably like the rest, he thought as he walked through the revolving door and headed toward the bar. Sammy had seen twenty-four girls during the week, and none of them were beautiful, though some were attractive. He wondered how they got the prices they asked for. Even the better looking ones wouldn't be accepted in any beauty contest, that was for Goddamn sure, he thought.
In a moment he entered the lounge and waited for his eyes to adjust to the blue darkness. There were two men sitting at one end of the long bar, glancing at a single girl who sat near the center. Their conversation was half whispered, but anyone could tell they were talking about the dark-haired girl. Eager to get this last confrontation over with he walked toward her swiftly, hoping that she was the one.
"Paula Moore?" he asked, expecting to see another thirty-year-old woman who had been through too much.
Sammy barely heard her say, "Yes?"
Even in the half-light of the cocktail lounge he could see that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. She wore no more make-up than a normal woman, and had accented every feature of her near-perfect face. He could see the straight line of her finely chiseled nose and the outline of her soft, almost glowing cheeks.
"Yes," she said again, "I'm Paula Moore. What do you want?"
Sammy could hardly speak as he watched her lips stop speaking and close in puzzled silence. His eyes followed her chin and the sleek line of her neck before he caught hold of himself.
"I'm S-Sammy Wynn," he finally said.
"Are you sure," she said sarcastically, pleased with herself.
"I'm from Wade," Sammy said immediately, wanting to slap her back for being so quick with him.
He was almost pleased with himself until he saw her face drop its smiling mask and almost tremble.
He didn't want to hurt her, not a girl as beautiful as this.
"Don't be afraid," he told her. "Come on, let's sit in a booth."
Paula obeyed as if she were a well-trained puppy, and quickly followed him to a nearby booth. She nearly gasped aloud when he stopped and offered her a seat before sitting himself. None of Wade's hoods had ever been polite to her. Most of them treated her like a common streetwalker, and in fact, had all taken her services at one time or another. It was in their unspoken contract, and she could do nothing about it.
Paula watched him curiously as he called to the cocktail waitress and ordered two scotch and waters before she could protest. As soon as the cocktail waitress left she told him that she couldn't drink anything but tea while she was on duty.
"Don't worry about it," Sammy replied. "I'm not going to tell anyone about it, if you won't."
This is too much, she thought, but then, he is awfully young, almost as young as I am. Her mind wondered about Sammy as they waited for their drinks, which were delivered shortly. Neither of them spoke, each waiting for the other to make a move. Sammy, his eyes glued to the sensuous woman across from him, had nothing to say. He only wanted to look, while Paula, at the same time, was curious about Wade's new hireling, but was unsure of herself. Tonight was pickup night for her money, yet the young man had said nothing. He seemed polite, she thought, and much too young to be working for Wade, besides, she seemed to see a glimmer of intelligence behind his eyes. Finally she spoke: "Did Wade send you to tell me something?"
"You're beautiful," he answered in his South Chicago accent.
"Wade said that?" she burst out laughing.
Sammy flushed and a broad grin spread across his handsome young face. He was embarrassed by his awkwardness, but pleased that she laughed, and he joined her laughter.
"N-No," he finally managed through his laughter. "I mean, I think you're beautiful."
Pamela stopped laughing and looked at the young man, one hand resting on her half-exposed full breast. He's really serious, she thought. I'm a prostitute sitting in a bar waiting for a customer, and he's serious.
"Why, thank you," she said in astonishment.
If he were any of the others, she thought, he would just be on the make, wanting her body, and willing to pay for it. But he's different, and she knew she was right.
She raised her glass and toasted, "To you."
Sammy couldn't stop smiling, pleased that she seemed to like him, and that she didn't think he was like the rest of Wade's henchmen. Wade crossed his mind, and he remembered why he had come. If she's going to like me, he thought, I'll have to be honest.
Paula put her drink on the table and was surprised when Sammy said, "I'd better tell you right now that I'm here for the collection."
"Oh," she said, pretending that she was sure of it all the time. So maybe he was like the rest of them after all.
Quickly, before she could open her purse to give him her week's take, he spoke again. "I-I don't want you to think I'm like the rest of Wade's men," he said, almost pleading for acceptance. "I just need the money right now, and as soon as I make enough, I'll quit."
"I understand," she said, wanting to believe him, but sorry that he was so naive.
"No you don't," he said, almost angrily. "You don't understand Chicago, or slums, or what happens to people who never have anything. I never wanted to be working for someone like Wade. I never wanted to have anything to do with crime. It's just that, well…"
And Sammy continued to talk for almost an hour, stopping only long enough to order more drinks. He had never been able to talk to anyone before, especially a girl, but this one seemed different. She listened, and he thought that she understood as he poured out the years of bitterness, the years that he spent pretending to be a hero because he had stolen a case of beer once. He told her the whole story, his voice angry at times, sad at others. No one had known Sammy Wynn before, but he wanted her to know him.
"… And so," he continued, "I never finished school, never had a chance to go to college. But I suppose, even if I had finished high school, I wouldn't have had the money to go to college."
Paula stared at him, no words coming from her lips. She could feel the salty tears that had formed in her eyes. Here was someone who shared something with her. She knew his pain and felt his losses, losses that, though not exactly like hers, had had the same effect on his life. They were two people who had not been masters of their own lives. Circumstances beyond their control had brought them together, under Wade Jackson, to sit together in a dimly lit cocktail lounge and communicate like human beings.
"Oh, Sammy," she whispered, and put out her hand to touch his. "If only I could tell you…"
"You can," he said, knowing that they had found something together. "Try it. I just found out that telling someone you trust helps and I'm glad I told you. Go ahead and try."
Slowly at first she began to speak, afraid that he might not understand as she had. She began with her father's death, the job, and then faltered when she started to talk about Jed Dearborn. But, when she looked at Sammy, she stopped hesitating and told him the whole story, right up to the present.
"Well," she said when she had finished. "What do you think?"
"Not, what do I think," he said, "But how do you feel?"
Paula thought for a moment. How do I feel? The hate was gone. That's right, the hate is gone. When her mind pictured Jed and Wade, she could only feel pity for them, sharpened by a tinge of disgust, but at least no more hate.
"I feel like a weight has been taken off me," she told Sammy in amazement. "It's almost too good to be true."
More than two hours had passed since they had ordered drinks and began talking. Sammy's eyes had roamed over every inch of her that he could see, savoring the fine smooth skin of her breasts that lay half-exposed from her low-cut dress, displaying their firm fullness. He had heard every word she had said, but his mind could not refuse his imagined pleasures of her luscious body. He watched, listened and learned more about her, feeling more and more emotion for her until he could no longer stand it.
During a pause in their conversation he finally blurted, "If you weren't… I mean… If I had the money… I'd," he groped for the words, "I'd like to make love with you."
Paula looked up from her drink, surprised that he would say such a thing, but when she saw his blushing face, she knew what he meant. How else, she thought, could he tell me he cared for me. His talk had mentioned girls only casually. He's probably never had a steady girl friend, so how would he know how to tell me, a whore, he cares?
"Why, Sammy?" she asked, wanting to see if he could answer to satisfy her.
"I don't know," he replied. "I mean, it's not like you think. I don't want you like all…"
"Like all those other men, Sammy?"
"Yeah, I mean, no, not like them. I know I haven't known you very long," he said, not knowing that she thought his little speech was cute, "But I think I know you pretty good and, well, I like you."
Sammy stopped talking and looked like he had been deflated from the effort. He had never told any girl that he cared for her before, and the commitment had been almost too much for him. He was afraid she would react differently, either thinking that he was just looking for a piece of tail, or that she didn't like him, really, and would reject him. Silently he watched for her reaction.
"You look like you've just been busted," she said smiling at him.
Sammy sat up a little, not sure if she were teasing him or not. He was too unsure of himself to know that she did care, and was touched by the way he had blurted out his confession.
"Are you afraid I'll turn you down," she asked him. "Don't be ridiculous. I may be in for trouble for it, but I think that after talking with you for the last two hours I should be able to judge not only you, but my own feelings."
Sammy's face became all grin as she talked. He wasn't going to be rejected. They would be able to make love, maybe on her day off, which wouldn't be until the convention was over, but be could wait. He could wait a long time for a beautiful girl like her.
"And, well," she continued. "We're spending too much of your money buying drinks here. Let's drive over to my place."
Unbelievable! She wanted him too, and tonight, not in a week. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and a hint of desire. He wanted her, and wanted her badly. Maybe this was his fresh start.
Misunderstanding his expression she said, "Don't worry about the syndicate. I make a hell of a lot more money than they think I do and it'll be no problem at all to take a few bucks extra and tell them I worked all night."
"No," he interrupted. "I didn't think that, I just…"
"Paula!" a voice from the bar yelled. "Telephone."
She started to stand and Sammy got up with her, picking up her coat. "No, wait," she said. "I'll have to answer it, they know I'm here."
Sammy knew exactly what she meant. Each girl who worked for Jackson had a specific area of responsibility, a place where she would work from and could be contacted if not at home, or wherever she took her customers. It reminded him that she was, after all, still a hooker, no matter how beautiful, or how wonderful he thought she was, she was still a prostitute. But for the moment, he didn't care, he cared for her more than he had for any girl he had ever met, and what she did for a living could be either ignored or changed. His thoughts raced as he watched her firm sensuous buttocks move in perfect rhythm as she walked to the telephone.
"Hello," she said into the receiver, "This is Paula."
"Hi, Baby, Red."
Red, she thought, big ugly Red, one of Wade's "in crowd". She remembered him from the first, always hanging around, guarding Wade's precious body, and when Wade had turned her out, Red had been one of the first of the gang to take advantage of her new business. He had been rough and surly with her, and left her in a great deal of pain. But she couldn't hate him either, not since meeting Sammy. He was just another blob among the many blobs in her life.
"How's business tonight," he asked, wanting her to remember his superiority.
"Fair," she answered, wanting to say as little as she could to him.
"Well, I'm gonna make it better for ya," he continued. "We've lined up a helluva trick for ya. He's willin' to pay two bills for just an hour, so put on some fresh makeup and be down here right away."
Not now, she thought. "But, Red, I've got another big one right here, and I don't want to turn him down."
"I don't give a rat's ass," he said. "These is orders from the boss!"
"Alright," she said, hoping to hang up immediately.
"One more thing, Baby. Has that new collector been around yet?"
"He just left," she lied. "He said he had to check on something before he could get back to turn the money in."
"Good," he said, sure that he had a good worker in the young Sammy. "See ya in fifteen minutes," and he hung up.
Paula stood for a moment with the phone still at her ear. When Red told her to be somewhere she had to be there, or suffer a beating like she had when she refused one time before. She remembered they had caught her at the airport and taken her back to Wade's where after four of them had used her, they beat her so badly she couldn't work for three weeks. If they found out that she would refuse to be with Sammy, especially for nothing, it could be worse, maybe for both of them.
"Who was that," Sammy's voice said from behind her.
"Oh, Sammy," she cried, turning to bury her head against his strong shoulder. "That was Red," she said starting to cry. "He said there's a customer for me, one that I have to see…" Her voice broke off, choked with emotion.
There's no way out, she thought, trying to find a way to explain to the first man who had moved her in a long time that she must go, or face the consequences. She knew that she had done the right thing to tell Sammy, though she didn't want him to be hurt, and didn't want him to remember that she was still nothing but a prostitute.
If he could only understand what they would do to me, she thought. If he could only see what I had looked like when they had finished with me before. I can't lie to him, her mind rationalized through the veil of tears. We've got to start off right.
"Are-are you going?" he asked, his own throat tight, trying to hold back a choking sob. He knew the answer before he had asked, but one last ray of hope held him, pleading with an unknown force to change what was happening.
"Oh, Sammy," she cried again, not seeing that the bartender stood nearby, listening to every word.
"Come on," he said roughly. "I'll drive you over."
"You're so sweet," she said. "But it would be better if I took a cab. I'd better just go alone."
Sammy knew that she didn't want to go, but knew also, that she must. He was too new in town, and she meant too much to him to be hurt for disobeying orders. His heart went out for her and her plight, more than for his own temporary loss, but he held himself back.
"I'll walk you out then," he said, controlling his voice.
Without answering she allowed him to help her with her coat, all the time thinking of what she must go through. She remembered the fat ugly man from the night before, the one who had sodomized her for the first time, forcing her to do things that went against her very nature, degrading her in her own eyes. A tool, that's what I am, she thought bitterly, nothing more than a fucking machine for terrible old men who can't get a girl any other way. I might as well have never been born for all the good I've done myself. How stupid! Why couldn't I have met Sammy a year and a half ago? Why did it have to be now, as a whore peddling her wares in a bar?
Sammy knew what she was thinking as they walked outside and he hailed a cab, but couldn't find words to console her. If there were only a way to be free, a way to control my own life as well as hers, he thought. Then it would be different, and we wouldn't have to bow to anyone.
Paula got into the taxi he had called with a shrill whistle and gave the driver an address. She didn't want to look at Sammy, or say goodbye, but she couldn't possibly leave without something, she thought.
"Will you wait for me," she asked. "I know it's too much to ask, but…"
His voice cut her off, "Of course, I'll wait," he said, controlling his feelings, trying to make her feel that it would be alright.
He recognized his anger, but contained it, not giving her the slightest idea how he felt. If she really wants to come back, he thought, then she will. But he couldn't get the picture of her being with another man out of his mind, no matter how well he tried to rationalize the situation.
Sammy stepped back from the curb as the yellow cab pulled away. He could see her tears as she turned and waved back at him, blowing a small but meaningful kiss at him as the taxi turned the corner.
Well, fuck it! he thought and turned back toward the bar. She's gone and I couldn't change it, so what the hell, I'll just get drunk, he declared silently to himself.
"Double scotch and a water back," he called to the bartender as he re-entered the cocktail lounge.
The two men sitting at the bar watched him with interest as he stumbled past them, already half drunk from the previous two hours drinking. If I'm gonna get drunk, he thought glancing at the two men, I'm gonna do it right.
The drink went down fast and hard and he chased it with a large gulp of ice water, trying not to think of the girl he had just seen drive away.
But in the taxi just a few blocks away, Paula fought with herself in mute anger and frustration. She kept thinking of what Wade's henchmen might do to her, knowing that it would be much worse than the beating she had received months before. But her mind could not free itself from Sammy's grip. He's so wonderful and kind, she thought. I know he's afraid for me, and he doesn't want to see me hurt. Oh, God, I just can't!
"Driver," she said, urgency straining in her voice. "Driver, take me back to the hotel!"
There, she thought, I've done it and God help me, she added in silent prayer. She knew she wouldn't back out now, not after feeling the relief that was flooding through her firm round breasts. She had made the decision and would stick with it, and stick with Sammy. I'll do anything for him, she thought as the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel.
She nearly jumped out, throwing a five dollar bill on the front seat and not waiting for the change as she ran through the revolving door and headed for the open door of the cocktail lounge.
"Sammy!" she cried as she burst through the door into the darkness.
Sitting at the bar hunched over his third double scotch in almost as many minutes, Sammy was startled to hear her unexpected voice. For a split second he thought he was hearing things, but he had to turn around to be sure.
It was true!
Paula stood silhouetted in the doorway, tears streaming down her face. Sammy looked only long enough to be sure that he wasn't seeing an alcohol fogged mirage then jumped off the stool and ran to her.
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
She felt complete, and sure that she had made the right decision as she felt his closeness. It was so good to feel a man who cared, a man who could love her for herself and not just her body, she thought ecstatically.
Wanting him as she had no other man, Paula held him tighter and pressed her lips to his, tasting the heavy sting of scotch in his mouth as she plunged her eager tongue into his mouth and brushed the wet insides of his lips, trying to tell him that she was his. Paula and Sammy, she thought. No, Sammy and Paula; that was better.
After a long extended kiss, Sammy pulled back and held her soft face gently in his cupped hands.
"I can't believe it," he said. "It's too…"
"Don't say anything now," she interrupted. "I want you so badly. Please, take me home."
Their arms around each other, they walked slowly out of the bar, knowing that they needn't hurry now, that they would have all night. They didn't, however, know that every word they had said had been carefully overheard by George, the bartender; every word that he would later remember when asked.
The key clicked in the metal lock and the door swung open. Sammy stood back and let Paula enter. He followed her in, carefully looking at the decor, surprised that her apartment was decorated in Early American, neat and expensive.
"I'll be just a minute," she said without turning around. "I want to change first, so fix yourself a drink and one for me too."
He did as she asked and then walked around the apartment, examining everything carefully, curious about the things that she hadn't told him, things that he must learn for himself.
"Like it?" she asked, coming back into the room in a bright red robe. "I've decorated everything myself."
"It's nice," he said, hesitating to say anything more.
Sammy could not help thinking that this was where she had had so many men in her bed, the same bed that he was going to make love to her in.
Sensing that something was wrong Paula walked to him and put both arms around his neck, and drew his whole body to her, at the same time inserting one leg between his. She could feel his tight, muscular thighs and the bulge of his penis, still soft, yet slowly filling with blood, growing with each breath.
He could smell the soft aroma of her hair as she crushed her lips to his. It had been so long since he had had a woman, and never before had he wanted a girl as much as he wanted Paula. He inhaled deeply, then let go of his grip on her. He couldn't help thinking that this was where she did her work, just beyond the bedroom door. There were too many thoughts running through his head each contradicting the other. He wanted to climb into bed with her and make love as wildly as he could, and yet at the same time he couldn't forget all the others, the others who had paid her for screwing her.
"Let's have some coffee," he said suddenly.
Surprised, Paula let go of him and agreed to make some. Her intuition told her that he was being reserved, but she didn't know why. Perhaps, she thought, he's got a sex problem, or maybe he's just afraid. She giggled slightly, thinking how nice it would be if he really were afraid.
"What's funny?" he asked, thinking that she might be laughing at him.
"Oh, nothing," she replied. "You're just sweet, that's all."
Sammy smiled and followed her into the kitchen, watching the graceful movements of her sleek young body as she walked, almost bouncing. She's really somethin', he thought, trying to remember if he had ever made love to a woman as beautiful and sensuous as Paula.
Minutes later she poured hot black coffee from the ceramic pot. "Black?" she asked, turning to face him.
"That's fine," he answered, trying to think of something to say to her, something that would relieve the tension he felt both in his mind and between his thighs.
"Come on," she said, breaking the momentary silence. "I've got to wash all this makeup off, and I don't want to leave you even for a minute."
Sammy obeyed and followed her through the bedroom to the large white bathroom that she had decorated with prints of movie stars. He stood quietly, looking at the prints while she turned the water on in the basin.
"Have a seat," she said gaily, pointing to the toilet with a dramatic gesture.
Sammy grinned and sat down, feeling awkward at being in her bathroom while she was there.
"Those a hobby?" he asked, pointing at the pictures.
"No, not really. I got them on sale, and couldn't think of any other place to put them."
Sammy said nothing as he watched her bend over the washbasin and begin soaping the makeup away from her face. His eyes took careful note of her features, trying to think of someone to compare them to. She was so natural, so free, he thought, suddenly remembering that she wasn't really free. His eyes caught the front of her robe as she bent, exposing her breasts from beneath the open front. They hung gently without a bra, and yet retained their perfect shape, almost staring back at him from the tips of their sensitive pink nipples.
Paula looked up from between her soapy hands and saw him staring at her. She knew that he was watching her breasts, and somehow felt a little embarrassed at having him look at her naked breasts, even though so many men had seen her completely nude, and used her. But she knew that Sammy wouldn't use her like they had. He would make love to her, not just fuck her like the others had.
"How much did you collect this week," she asked, wanting him to talk to her.
"Huh," he said, surprised at the sudden sound of her deep sensuous voice. "Oh, about twenty-five grand."
She whistled.
"Yeah, it's a lot of dough, alright. I wish it were mine instead of Wade's, but that's the story of my life."
"I didn't know it was that much," she said, still amazed by the vastness of the sum. "Just think how much the girls could make by themselves if they didn't have to give him half or more."
It was coming out into the open, Sammy thought as she spoke. If he was going to make love to her, he would have to let it out. He would have to know if this was where she screwed all those men for money.
"I remember," he said softly, "How much you gave me tonight. But, well, how much do you charge everybody."
Realizing now what was bothering him, she answered, leaving enough room for him to continue later. "Well, it all depends. Usually it's a hundred for a short-timer," she said, immediately regretting that she had said short timer so lightly. "Sometimes the prices are higher, like the one Red called me about tonight. But then other times I even go as low as fifty backs if I'm having a slow night."
Sammy could hardly believe his ears. She was talking about it just as if it were a regular business and not prostitution. He felt sparks of anger and the ache of disappointment as he listened. He wanted her so much, but she seemed to be ruining everything.
Still washing her face, Paula waited for Sammy to say something. If they were going to have anything at all between them, she thought, then he would have to understand that she was a prostitute, and nothing else. If he could accept that for the time being, then later on there would be no problems. Please, she thought, say it now, and get it over with.
"How, uh, how many guys do you usually have a night," he finally asked, shrugging his shoulders as if he were ashamed of the question.
"Generally about four," she said quickly.
Now the clincher, she thought. If he can take it, now will be the time.
Sammy's voice cracked, "Do you, I mean, where do you do it?"
"Oh, Sammy," she cried aloud and turned from the basin, putting her arms around him and sitting on his lap. "I couldn't, I just couldn't even think of making love with you in a business bed. No, my Darling, I've never brought anyone else here. This is my home and my refuge, and if you want, it can be yours, too."
Thank God, he thought, completely relieved. He knew suddenly why she had talked so matter-of-factly about her business. She was so natural, so beautiful, and now that he knew this was her own home, she did seem almost free to him.
He pulled her more tightly toward him, feeling her breasts crush in their softness against his chest. Accidentally his elbow pressed against the chrome handle behind him and the room filled with the sound of running water as the toilet flushed beneath them.
Paula began laughing uncontrollably as Sammy's face turned beet red. What a way to start, she thought, laughing almost hysterically. A prostitute and her collection man sitting on the toilet about to make love, it's too much.
Sammy had joined her laughter, his embarrassment easing away. He was holding her so that she wouldn't fall, when suddenly he felt his hand firmly placed over her round smooth breast. He knew that there was no reason to remove it. His fingers luxuriated in the softness, and felt as if they belonged on her round white flesh. He wanted to hold her and protect her against everything in the world outside.
Paula, too, had become aware of the warm hand on her hardening breast. No other hand had touched her like that, she felt, so gently and firm, yet not demanding, not wanting what all the others had wanted. Instead of tensing as she had done with so many other men, she felt herself relaxing at his touch, while at the same time, recognized for the first time in her life, a tingling in her breasts as her nipples quickly filled with warm desire until they were tight and hard, demanding something that she had never felt before, not even with Jed.
"I've never loved anyone," he said breaking the silence between them. "But if it's what I imagined it to be, then I feel it now."
She wanted to believe him so badly. If it's true, she thought, if it's true… But she was afraid to finish the sentence in her mind. Her thoughts were changing to colors instead of pictures, and she could not reply or adjust the strange desires that were growing within her.
"Is that too quick for you?" he asked, suddenly shifting his weight. "Maybe we need more time."
He made a motion to get up, but she stopped him, bending down and gently touching his lips with hers, as if it were the first time. She needed him to know that she felt the same, even though she couldn't find the words, and she let her lips rest on his, softly inhaling his breath through her moist open lips. This has got to be right, she thought. She wanted to kiss him out of love, cleanly and gently, and not with the contrived manners of sex she had learned so well over the past months.
They stopped for a moment staring into each other's eyes.
"I never felt like this before," she said. "No one could have said that and meant it as much as you do."
There was no need for another word, he thought, as he kissed her again, this time eagerly, showing her that he wanted her now. He trapped her lower lip between his and sucked it into his mouth, feeling her tongue, hard and wet slip in behind, probing at the insides of his mouth. They embraced more tightly, almost crushing each other with urgent strength as a fire began to build between his legs.
"Let's move," she said almost breathlessly as she stood up.
Sammy got to his feet, but was uncertain about what he should do. He knew what he wanted and what a man would do in a normal situation. But she was a prostitute and had already had other men tonight. Maybe she wouldn't be ready, maybe she wanted to wait.
"Sammy, I want you," she said almost pleading. "I want you and you alone, more than I ever wanted anybody!"
She turned and he followed her, but his mind couldn't rest. Why did she have to say something like that, always referring to other men. Maybe it was all the same to her. Maybe all men were alike, and she would be just performing again. He tried to put it out of his mind as he came up behind her beside the bed and looked at her, feeling his penis now hard and pressing inside his trousers.
As they sat on the bed silently, he started to kiss her again, lightly touching the soft clean skin of her cheek. No one else has screwed her here, he thought, but Goddamn it, why has there ever been anyone else ever? It angered him to think of all those other men. Men! She had no right, he thought. She's mine, and mine alone.
His hands moved over her robe to the open front and traced a path to the single large button that fastened it. Easily he opened it and ran his hand up the smooth white skin of her naked torso until he got to the top, then eased it from her arms and watched it flop onto the bed in a silent pile. His fingers roamed over her trembling breasts and across her belly exploring every tingling inch of her nakedness, wanting to tear at her and make love to her savagely until the pressure in his loins was drained.
As she lay back onto the bed he leaned over her and began caressing the tight pink tip of one nipple, playing with it gently and biting it just enough to make her groan. He sucked the hard round end of her breast into his mouth and felt her tremble as she ran her hands through his hair.
Panting through his nostrils he wanted more for his hungry mouth and began to move his head lower across, the soft skin of her belly. Someone else had made love to her tonight, he thought, but he had only fucked her. I'm gonna make love to her like no one ever had. She'll never want anyone else, his mind continued as his head moved toward the soft brown triangle of her loins.
His tongue slid through the silken pubic hair that covered her vagina and found the pink lips that had parted in anticipation of his tongue. He turned his head back and forth for a moment, whiffing the honeyed smell of her vagina, then slipped his tongue into the warm waiting slit and ran it teasingly along the quivering pink flesh.
He heard her moan as he expertly sought out her clitoris with the hard, wet tip of his tongue. He took it between his lips and pulled at the tiny erect bud making her whole body tremble as she moaned out her passion again.
There was no guesswork now, he thought, as she trembled beneath him. He could feel her urgency, her need for him to fill her aching pussy with his swollen cock. He stood up and removed his clothing quickly, freeing his straining penis from its imprisonment, letting it spring up and jut straight from his body, pulsating in the air. It hung over her body, and he watched her as he removed his socks. She was the most sensual, beautiful woman he had ever seen, and she was his now.
Slowly he got back onto the bed and traced a path with his lips from her ankle all the way along her lean supple body until he touched her mouth. As he kissed her his hands sought every part of her body that he could excite with his touch, teasing and taunting her lust-incited flesh.
Needing him so badly she could almost scream, she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth, trying to pull him into her.
"Please, Sammy!" she gasped. "Please, now!"
Had she said that to the others, begged them like she was him, he thought. His jealousy only incited him more and he could feel his throbbing cock aching to get between the hair-lined lips of her pussy and fill the hot damp cavern with his sperm.
Expertly he sought the quivering wet lips hidden in the silken hair. His fingers toyed for a moment with the throbbing bud of her clitoris, then slipped along the pink flesh to the wet opening of her cunt.
"Oh, God!" she moaned as the tip of his probing finger slipped wetly inside.
He knew how much she wanted him, and the thought of all the other men who had fucked her seemed to slip into the back of his mind as he toyed with the burning flesh of her pussy.
For the first time he felt her move her hand, slipping her fingers between his legs and grasping his rigid cock. He felt her urge him toward her aching pussy as she gently stroked the rock hard cock that pulsated with every beat of his lust-maddened heart. Even before his massive prick touched the pink lips of her cunt he could feel the burning fire that was torturing her inside.
"Mmmmm," she groaned softly as the smooth rubbery head touched the waiting opening.
For only a second he paused, gently rocking back and forth on his knees, teasing the trembling opening, then suddenly he thrust his rigid cock deep into the burning cavern between her open thighs.
"Oh, oh, oh," she gasped as he filled her with his pulsating prick.
His mouth spread to a wide ecstatic grin as the wet slippery walls of her vagina enfolded over his throbbing cock, sucking at it with the clenching muscles of his desire. He sighed, his mouth wide open as he slid deeper and deeper into her fiery pussy until he completely filled her.
He could feel her whole body twitching underneath him as he began to stroke rhythmically, feeling the hard contact of her pelvis smacking into his as he drove his prick in and out.
She moved in perfect time with him, pushing and dropping her hips as his light groans of ecstatic pleasure spurred her to higher and higher plateaus of passion.
"Never. Oh never before!" she cried gasping as she drove herself toward a frenzy of sexual excitement, using every straining muscle in her tortured body to meet the demands of his huge cock as it sank in and out of her aching cunt. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood as she tried to pull him deeper into the already stretched cavern that ached with a crazed desire for more and more of this man who had suddenly become her life.
He heard her words, but why had she said it, he thought. How could he ever forget all the others if she kept saying things like that. How could he ever forget the picture of fat hairy men mounting her like an animal and driving their hard, fat cocks into her cunt, making her beg for more. Had she told them the same thing?
Why? he thought, unable to control his anger. Wanting to hurt her he suddenly drove his massive cock deep into her, using his buttocks as a piledriver. His huge prick was a weapon and he could punish her with it…
"Oooooh, God!" she moaned at the savage thrust. "Don't stop!"
Beg! Did she beg them too, he thought, and drove his lust maddened cock deeper, using all his strength to smash into her, feeling the red rubbery tip push hard against her cervix.
"Oh, oh, oh," she cried in masochistic pleasure.
Wanting to drive his cock deeper, he moved to reposition her, using his hands to lift the quivering flesh of her smooth round buttocks, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his back and locking her ankles tight together to hold him in her.
As he drove into her again, his fingers spread the clenching flesh of her quivering white bottom, stretching the tight red ring of her tiny twitching anus.
She kept moaning as he moistened his finger with the hot juices that flowed freely from her clasping pussy and slid it along the tender flesh between her cunt and her anus. Lightly he rubbed across the rubbery opening, feeling it give as he probed it, making her cry in ecstasy at the strange, obscene sensation.
Suddenly he slid the finger all the way into her warm damp rectum and she cried out, half in pain and half in pleasure. He knew she was no virgin there, and angrily rotated his finger back and forth, scraping at the soft flesh, punishing her for having done it before.
She could hardly stand the fucking she was getting in both burning holes. The swollen walls of her pussy could hardly bear the fantastic excitement of his rigid cock driving back and forth inside, while his rotating finger pulled at the very center of her being. She bucked harder as he fucked her, clenching him tightly with her long, slim legs straining to draw him deeper.
Her face contorted in a lewd mask of ecstatic pleasure and pain as she threw her head back and forth on the bed, unaware of anything but the roaring fire that burned throughout her sex-crazed body.
Her moanings and spastic twitchings were becoming too much for him as he thrust his throbbing prick harder and harder inside her clenching hair-lined pussy and ravaged her burning rectum with his fingers. Something else, he thought, and suddenly jerked his finger from her anus and slid it into the quivering pink lips of her burning cunt beside his driving cock.
Once inside, he sank another finger next to the first, stretching her opening until she could stand it no longer.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh God. Oh, I'm cumming, I'm cumming now!"
He could barely stay on as she suddenly bucked like a wild horse, filling her pussy with her own orgiastic juices and lathering his still-stroking cock with its burning wetness.
"Oh, yeah!" he gasped as she came and started driving into her harder. It had lasted long enough. The dam would hold back no longer.
There had been so many other men fucking her, filling her with their cum, but none could have ever made her cum like this…
He had only seconds left, and grabbed her quivering flesh as hard as he could, thrusting again and again, unable to control his animal-like gaspings until his balls suddenly exploded, shooting his cum along the underside of his thick cock until it burst free into her cunt, joining her juices deep in her quivering belly as he screamed aloud: "Ooooohhhhh!"
He reared back, almost standing on his knees as the last jets of hot sperm filled her, making her his forever.
Slowly, he lowered himself, completely depleted. Nothing had ever been like this, he thought, as he lay on top of her, too weak to speak.
Gently, he finally rolled off of her sweating body and lay beside her, his breathing still heavy.
"Sammy," he heard hazily through the distance of his happiness, "I love you."
He couldn't believe his ears. She really did love him. Now, now that he had been avenged, now that she really loved him, he would never have to think of all those others again. She was his, and they could never have any more or any less than each other.
As he turned to tell her he loved her too, he felt her long slender fingers slide between his thighs and tenderly touch his half-hard cock.
"Let's do it again," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Make love to me again, my Darling. I don't want you to ever stop."