Lynn, Ellen and Kalola were gathered in Lynn's room. "Everything has worked out just as Wikiwiki promised it would," Lynn was saying. "We've fucked ourselves into important positions on the hotel staff, though his clever, conniving, Evangeline is no longer here to dominate Elmer and dictate policy, and now, what with the show Kalola and her troupe put on every night, plus the fact that Ellen has gotten jobs here for every whore, professional or amateur, on Maui, this has become the most popular resort hotel in the South Pacific. We're sold out and have reservations ahead for six months. Elmer showed me a letter this morning from Euclid J. Barrington-Phaff praising the management to the skies. There was a personal note at the end assuring Elmer that he had no cause to worry concerning the breaking of his engagement with Evangeline, that the old man has disinherited her and has no further interest in her conduct or whereabouts. So I guess everything is just dandy."
"The hell it is," Ellen replied glumly. "Without Wikiwiki around, what fun is it? I miss him."
"We all do," Kalola agreed unhappily. She took a long, reflective drag on the marijuana cigarette she was smoking and passed the butt to Lynn. "Besides, this isn't the way it was supposed to work at all. Wikiwiki was supposed to wind up as manager of the hotel. Instead he vanishes and Elmer gets all the glory. You don't suppose he's dead, do you?" she asked Lynn.
"I don't think so," the redhead replied. "I figure his disappearance has something to do with Evangeline. To get her out of our hair, he had to take her a hell of a long way from here maybe. It's just taking him a long time to get back… I hope."
"This whole caper has been more trouble than it was worth," Ellen declared. "I told you right from the first that the easiest and nicest way for us to make a living was just to be whores and maybe sell a little pot or 'L' on the side. I didn't mind going along with it while we had Wikiwiki, but now we've lost him, too. Gosh! Nobody fucks the groovy way he does. The Reverend Longworth was pretty good, but Elmer ran him off after Evangeline copped out."
"Well, we have to stay here and do the best we can without him," Lynn declared loyally, "just in case he does come back."
The other two nodded in silent, sorrowful agreement.
It was on the following morning that Elmer came bustling into Lynn's office, beaming with excitement and happiness.
"We got it!" he cried, waving a cablegram in the air as though it were a triumphal banner. "We got it!"
"Got what?" Lynn asked mildly.
"The convention!" Elmer chortled. "See? This is from the boss in New York. The old boy swung it, by George! We are going to host the A.A. of S.P.M. convention. Do you know what that means, Miss Charles? Why, this is one of the biggest convention groups in the country. Every hotel from Florida to California has been angling for it. If we handle this one successfully, we'll become the top convention hotel in America. That's what it means!"
"And what is the A.A. of S.P.M.?" Lynn asked.
"That is the 'American Association of Sanitary Papergoods Manufacturers'," Elmer burbled.
"Like scratch paper and paper cups?" Lynn inquired.
Elmer reddened. "Not exactly. As a matter of fact they make toilet paper," he explained, "but they're just about the biggest group in the whole U.S. Now here's what I want you to do. We'll have the usual entertainment and activates, but to cap the climax I want you to organize a luau just like the one you put on to save the Pacific Paradise Hotel."
Lynn raised an auburn eyebrow. "Just like that one, Mr. McFarthingale?"
"Why, of course. Now don't be modest, Miss Charles. I wasn't there, unfortunately, but I overhead some of the kitchen help discussing that affair one day and they agreed it was the greatest thing that has ever been done in the islands in modern times. You're really quite famous for it, you know. Can you do the same thing here for the Hale-Kaahumanu?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so," Lynn said doubtfully, "if you're sure that's what you want. All right, I'll get started with the arrangements right away."
"Fine. Oh, by the way, I understand the A.A. of S.P.M. members are inclined to be somewhat on the prudish and strait-laced side, so perhaps it would be well to tone down the… er… bawdier aspects of any entertainment you schedule."
"Now why the hell doesn't he make up his mind?" Lynn muttered to herself as Elmer went hurrying out of her office. "He sure can't have it both ways."
She took her problem to Koko, who suggested that perhaps Elmer had heard only an expurgated version of the Pacific Paradise affair, and he therefore recommended that she keep it clean.
"Most of those guys will bring their wives," he told her, "so, if I were you, I'd pass the word to Ellen to have her girls lay off the married men and be discreet with the single ones."
"Sounds like it will turn out to be a very exciting occasion," she predicted glumly. "Maybe I could put up a maypole and let them dance around it, or we could have a taffy pull and bob for apples. Get the whip out, Koko. I need a little stimulation."
Grinning evilly, his wicked, little eyes gleaming, he took the white leather whip from his dresser drawer as Lynn bent over a hassock and pulled her dress up to reveal her ass, faintly crisscrossed by fading marks from previous sessions of this kind.
"Lay it on," she commanded him. "I want to really feel it this time." She suffered through the first dozen blows, waiting patiently for her reward – the strange experience of mind expansion and greatly increased awareness that came when the pain diminished. He had doffed his trousers, and when she looked around to see that his cock was stiff, she motioned for him to stop. He sank to the carpet beside her and she rolled onto him from the hassock, her open mouth receiving his throbbing prick. She sucked him greedily, bobbing her head up and down so that her lips touched every part of the shaft while her tongue danced around the head.
"Do me in the ass," she begged him, reluctantly surrendering his cock before he could come in her mouth. "God but I'm hot! Fuck it into me hard, Koko."
He obliged her, his prick forcing its way through the confining stricture imposed by her sphincter muscle. Because he knew that was how she liked it, he was brutal and rough with her, and her muffled groans of pain increased his own excitement. He came too quickly to suit her, but she loved the hot gush of his jism in her ass.
She thanked him and left the room to return to her office and begin making plans for the convention. She drew up a tentative list of activities, but it somehow refused to go right, and she realized that it was hopeless in her present mood. For once, an hour with Koko and his little white whip had failed to satisfy her and calm her nerves. She found herself remembering Tony and regretting his death. She also thought of Wikiwiki and regretted his defection.
"Damn!" she exclaimed in vexation and left the office with no particular purpose in mind. She crossed the busy lobby and went out to the moist, tropical heat. She had walked through the extensive and beautifully landscaped grounds for some time when she came to a thick hedge, beyond which was the beach, the lazy, creamy surf and, hazy in the distance, the low-lying island of Lanai. The beach was crowded with tourists from the hotel, and she thought for the thousandth time how utterly ridiculous they looked in their Bermuda shorts, bright Aloha shirts and bikinis with their soft, fat, white, elderly bodies revealed. Disgusted, she turned away and walked along the hedge toward the snick-snicking sound of hedge trimmers. The gardener was a big man, burned black from the sun. She thought him quite the ugliest human she had ever beheld. His muscular body glistened with perspiration and his face was deeply scarred and puckered by the ravages of some old disease. He glanced at her as she approached and continued with his work.
"Hello," Lynn said, coming up to stand beside him. "I wonder if you would do me a favor."
"Sure," he said, putting down the hedge trimmer and turning to face her. "Whatsa mattah yo' need help fo'?" he asked pleasantly.
"I would like very much to have you fuck me," she told him calmly. "Over there under that pandanus tree looks like a good place. No one could see us there from either the hotel or the beach."
He stared at her with small, black eyes and absently scratched at a mosquito bite on his ribs. "Yo' no make fun?" he asked at last. "Yo' no kid?"
"No kid," she replied firmly. "Come on." She took his arm and walked with him to the shade of the pandanus tree and began removing her clothing. Not until she had stripped herself nude did he apparently decide that he believed her, that this miracle of the beautiful, white woman was, indeed, a fact. He wore only trousers, and she had to help him unbuckle the belt. He was too dazed to do anything but stare at the ripe, full, womanly body in front of him. She knelt on the grass and drew his pants down to his ankles, taking his big, soft prick in her hands and pressing it to her check before she touched it lovingly with her red lips and ran the tip of her tongue around the head of it. It grew, swelling like a fat, black puff adder rapidly stiffening. She ran her hands over his thighs and the cheeks of his ass. His body smelled strongly of perspiration and old urine, and the stink of him excited her.
"Hey, lady," he said, looking down at her from his gargoyle's face. "Yo' maybeso gonna suck my cock, hunh?"
She smiled up at him. "Later, if you can do it more than once. But I want you to fuck me first. Are you ready?"
He laughed good-naturedly. "Lady, I Old Moke. Ask any wahine… she tell yo' Old Moke do it all day, all night, too." He dropped to his knees in front of her, gently pushed her over so that she fell on the grass, then mounted her and began working the bulbous head of his cock into her.
"No, no!" she protested. "Not like that, Moke. Like a bull with a cow. Shove it in hard and all the way."
He grunted and heaved his heavy hips at her. Not even Tony or Wikiwiki had been built like this, she thought, and she nearly swooned with sheer delight as she felt the thing go into her like a steel wedge bent on splitting her up the middle.
"That's it!" she sobbed. "Now fuck hell out of me! Pound me to pieces, Moke! Punch the shit out of me with that woman-killer of yours! Only make me come. Please make me come!"
"Yo' come," Moke promised as he continued fucking her. Five minutes later, he was proved right. She came to an orgasm that was so powerful it was almost like dropping from a great height into a sea of warm soup. The sensation struck her suddenly, engulfing her, swallowing her body and her mind, drowning her in the luxury of exquisite rapture that was beyond mere ecstasy. She gave herself over to it, letting the hot tide of it wash over her. Above her, the colors of the trees, the sky and the profusion of flowers ran together, not dimming but merging, flowing and swirling into a kaleidoscopic montage… like one of the illusions claimed for LSD but which never really happen.
The orgasm faded, and her lust-glazed eyes came back into focus as Moke, having shot a gargantuan glob of glutinous semen into her, gave a final grunt and withdrew.
"That was beautiful!" she sighed. "It was simply beautiful! I'm so glad I found you. Do you like making love to me?"
"Sure, lady," Moke said, grinning down at her. "Yo' moh bettah fuck than any brown, wahine gal."
"Wonderful! I'll give you a key to my room. You come and sleep with me whenever you want. Okay? Now I want to suck your cock. I have to get back to my job, but we have time for that, and for one more fuck afterward. You like to suck pussy?"
"Sure, lady," Moke said.
Later that afternoon, Lynn, feeling refreshed and renewed, returned to her desk and worked out the program for entertainment of the ones who would be guests during the coming convention. It was going to be a sickeningly Milquetoast affair, she believed, but was probably just what Elmer would want. She wondered if the spirit of Evangeline, like a persistent and gloomy ghost, still hovered over the head of the dapper, fussy little man, influencing his policy. No, she decided, Elmer was naturally something of a prude and a square in his own right.
For the following week she was so busy she hardly had time for either Koko or Moke, but she had the satisfaction of knowing that everyone else was as hurried and flustered as she. She had to select the site for the luau, supervise the digging of the imu, the pit in which the pig would be roasted, order decorations, food and liquor, and engage another orchestra to relieve Kalola's group so that they would have time off with no break in the festivities. Kalola, she knew, was practicing like mad to learn the new routines, the cleaned-up versions of the dances she had been doing. Ellen, who through Lynn's influence, now had the title of Head Dietitian, was busy in the kitchen and also busy keeping her girls in line. Most of the waitresses were prostitutes who had been making a lot of extra money on the side since coming to work at the hotel.
It was the day before the convention people were due to arrive when Elmer dropped the bomb. He again rushed into Lynn's office clutching a cablegram. He was pale and distraught, his hand trembling as he reverently placed the yellow sheet on her desk.
"The old man!" he gasped weakly. "Euclid J. Barrington-Phaff himself is going to be here for the convention. My God! Miss Charles, are you sure that everything is all right? There will be no slip-ups… no booboos? Good Lord! I never expected…"
Lynn shrugged. "Sure. All is groovy. Why the fuss?"
Elmer threw his hands up. "Heaven help us if you're not right. It all depends on you. You don't know Euclid J., or you wouldn't wonder at my agitation. He's a perfectionist and a rigid moralist. Let him find so much as a speck of dust on a potted palm, or note the swish of a hip on a waitress, and he may have us all shot at dawn. Join me in a moment of prayer that he hears not one word of complaint from any guest. No, never mind praying. We haven't time for that. We have to check and double-check everything. Don't fail me, Miss Charles!" he begged as he rushed from her office.
"Whew!" Lynn exclaimed. "No wonder Elmer doesn't have ulcers… he gives them."
It was a three-day convention. The guests arrived on schedule, ate, drank, played, swam, slept and were entertained according to a schedule prearranged by Social Director Lynn Charles. The first two days passed in the orderly confusion that was to be expected and nothing – not one little thing – went wrong. No wife surprised her husband in bed with one of the waitresses, Kalola's dances were exotic and colorful without the least suggestion of being erotic, and Elmer's pulse and respiration lowered to within a few points of normal.
On the evening of the third and final day, an hour before the luau was due to begin, Euclid J. Barrington-Phaff arrived by private plane. Half an hour before the arrival of the great man, all of Elmer's worst fears were realized, his world turned into a nightmare of sheer horror. It began with the rumor that reached him via the bellboy channel, that one of the women, the wife of a conventioneer, had been caught on the beach being screwed by a beach boy. Not one of his beach boys. Why, Miss Charles had picked most of them for him herself!
When the next blow fell, he had no choice but to believe it, for it was a thing he witnessed himself.
Ellen, busy making salads, had not been surprised when she felt a warm hand slide up under her dress to caress her legs. She was used to that in the kitchen. She didn't bother to look around, sure it was either the cook or one of his helpers.
"Not now," she said. "There isn't time."
"Aw, fuck this damned convention!" It was the voice of the chef. "Ever since this shit started I haven't hardly got any from you at all."
"I know," she agreed sympathetically, "but I have to finish these salads. Why don't you just lift up my skirt and do it to me from behind? That way you won't interfere with my work."
"Okay," he replied and did as she had suggested.
Ellen went right on with her salad-making while the chef hunched at her, his cock sliding in and out of her as she bent over her work. She had a happy smile on her face when Elmer walked into the kitchen.
Elmer screamed, the chef came in Ellen's cunt, and Ellen cut her finger, all at the same time.
"What is the meaning of this?" Elmer screeched at them, his horrified eyes bugged out beyond the bridge of his nose as he stared at the chef's cock, now withdrawn and dropping from shock but still dripping on the floor.
"I don't know what the fuss is all about," Ellen said mildly. "We're supposed to be on our break right now anyway."
Uttering an unintelligible moan of anguish, Elmer rushed from the kitchen. He ran all the way to Lynn's room. Ellen was Lynn's friend. He wanted some explanation of the outrageous conduct he had witnessed, but, more than that, he wanted reassurance. Kalola was Lynn's friend and he remembered how the native girl had practically tried to rape him in his own office. Never mind the fact that she had very nearly succeeded. With friends like that… He couldn't complete the thought. It was too terrible even to contemplate.
He was so driven by the demon of doubt that he reneged on his very proper, early training and forgot to knock. He opened the door to a sight such as he had never expected to witness in his rather narrow and stuffy lifetime. On Lynn's bed was a Hawaiian, so big, so dark and so ugly he could only be one person… the gardener known as Old Moke. On top of Old Moke was Lynn Charles. They were both quite nude, and it was apparent that Moke had his cock in Lynn's cunt up to his ponderous balls. Standing over the two of them, also naked, was Koko, the bell captain. In his right hand was a white whip which he was industriously wielding, as evidenced by the red welts on the very attractive ass of Miss Charles.
Elmer fainted.
The participants in the orgy were not aware that he had come, seen and gone quietly to sleep just outside the door of the room, so they continued happily to enjoy themselves. Some other servants found Elmer there, carried him to his room and revived him. He sat up in bed, dismissed them and looked at his watch. He had seventeen minutes before his boss was due to arrive. He spent five of the seventeen minutes making a decision. It was not a question of whether or not to fire the three girls… only a matter of when. What he would really like to do, he thought savagely, was to roast them in the imu instead of the pig, but that was impractical. Unfortunately, it was not even practical to fire them immediately. No, in this case, expediency must rule the day. He would pretend that nothing had happened. For, without Lynn and Kalola, the whole thing, the days and days of frantic preparation, would fall apart at Euclid J. Barrington-Phaff's expensively shod feet. Having made his decision, he arose, combed his hair, adjusted his tie and made sure his jock strap was firmly in place. He then, chin up, went bravely to the airport.
Euclid J. Barrington-Phaff was what is sometimes referred to as a solid citizen, although all two hundred fifty pounds of him was not really solid. Around what had once been his waist, he tended to run to blubber. Nevertheless, he was an imposing person, his air of pompous dignity surviving even the bright green Aloha shirt he wore and the shorts that exposed rolls of oyster-white fat above each knee. He acknowledged Elmer's greeting with that delicately adjusted mixture of dignity and joviality considered proper when dealing with upper-echelon employees. On the short ride to the hotel, he admitted that he was quite well satisfied with the financial returns of his investment to date, but he saw fit to remind Elmer that procuring the convention for the Hale-Kaahumanu was a stroke that had been accomplished strictly in New York.
"Yes, you're doing a fine job, I'm sure," he said, unbending enough to place a fat, fatherly hand on Elmer's knee. "But you worry me, my boy. You seem all tense and tight. Something bothering you?"
"Oh, no, sir, nothing at all," Elmer assured him hurriedly. "Everything's fine… just fine."
Had Elmer at that moment been gifted with telescopic vision, and had he been able to see across the few miles of sugar cane fields and through the several walls that separated him from the kitchen of the Hale-Kaahumanu, he might not have been able to answer so glibly. As a matter of fact, he probably would have fainted again. For it was at that moment that Ellen, piqued at what she considered unjust condemnation, stood by the giant punchbowl, dropping tablet after tablet of LSD into the fruity mixture.
She had a smile of serene contentment on her pretty face.