Devil Girls Page 5

  He was taken back sharply.

  “If you’d of rubbed it a while,” Lila continued, “then maybe you might have worked me up.”

  “You like your titties rubbed, huh?”

  “Show me a girl that don’t and I’ll show you a girl with a set of rubber falsies.”

  He laughed, then catching the girl off guard he folded her quickly into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, trying to force his tongue in between hard-pressed lips. When they parted, Lila did not pull away, but she spit her words hard into his face. “You work like a hick.”

  “I’m from the big city,” he protected himself.

  “All hicks ain’t from the country.”

  “I’m no bumpkin.”

  “Sez you!”

  “You’re the one who looks like a hick,” he said with gestures. “Look at your clothes. All out of proportion. Look at your face—no make up—no poise . . .”

  “Poise?”

  “When you got in the car—as sloppy a move as I’ve ever seen. And I’m one who knows.”

  Lila threw up her hands. “To think of that. I meet a movie producer way out here.”

  “Well. Not a movie producer. But I do have a modelling school in Dallas.”

  “Maybe you wanna make a model outta’ me.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “First time I heard that line I’d just finished kickin’ the slats outta’ my cradle. Look, buster. You don’t wanna make a model out of me. All you wanna do is MAKE ME.” She slipped off her cardigan sweater and laid it over the back of the seat. “You got any whiskey in the car?”

  “Sure,” he said hopefully, and reached under the seat to produce a fifth of good whiskey which hadn’t been opened. His eyes never left the actions of the girl. He knew he was going to have some of that. He only wished it wasn’t so damned far back to the motel, but then that might not have been any good either because she had left a boyfriend back there. He’d have to take her in the back seat. Well, it would be an experience. He hadn’t had a screw in the back seat of a car since his school days. Anyway, this was a pretty broad, and from what he had felt in his hand she had a pair of titties to stand up with the best he had ever come across. He handed her the bottle after he had broken open the metal cap. Lila took it and drank deeply of the fiery liquid. She sputtered, then drank again.

  “Want some?” she finally said as she turned to him.

  “Later . . . after.”

  “Okay,” she said and turned her back to him. “Unbutton me,” she directed, as the buttons on her blouse were at the back.

  With nervous fingers, but trying to hurry, he started into action. It took him but a moment. “There!” he said as if some great exertion had taken over his body.

  Lila turned with a slight wink and set the bottle down beside her for the moment. She held her arms out in front of her. “Take it off for me, honey,” she smiled, letting her tongue draw a wet line sexily over her lips.

  The man could hardly contain himself. He took the sleeves of each arm in a hand and pulled the blouse toward him and off of the girl. She wore no brassiere or slip. The slip had been left with the uniform and the cape in the thought that she didn’t want anything of the nurse’s to be found on her should she be caught. Why, she actually didn’t know, because surely when the nurse was found she would tell who had attacked her. But she had left the slip with the other things.

  Lila’s naked breasts stood out in all their youthful firmness. The nipples were hard and pointed. At another time she would quite well have taken the man on and probably enjoyed it. But time was running out for her on that road, and she had to get off it and disappear into the outer limits of the world as soon as possible. She stretched the breasts as far out as they would go, as close to the man as possible without moving her ass. “You want ’em, honey?”

  “Wow, do I!”

  “Then take ’em with your lips . . . first . . .”

  “I bet they’re white.”

  “What?”

  “Your panties?”

  “I don’t have any on . . .” She brushed one of her breasts against his hand. “Take ’em.”

  “Pull your skirt off.”

  “Get me worked up first . . . play with them . . .”

  He moved in and cupped the girl’s breasts with his hands. “Not that way . . .” she said. “With your lips . . .” She picked up the bottle of whiskey and took another slug.

  The man gave a groan and bent down to take the nipple of Lila’s left breast in his mouth. His tongue ran over the nipple. The sensations went through her body. She fought to hold her self-control. It had been so long since a man had done that to her. The girls in the prison were all that she had had for so long. But there was nothing like the touch of a man, and what he could do to a girl. His tongue raced over to the right nipple and the searing heat raced through her body. She began to squirm on the seat. She moaned, and she wiggled, and she moaned . . . his hand found the opening between her legs, and with a scream of delight Lila could hold it no longer . . . she exploded, and she exploded again and her little ass was flying up and down on the seat . . . and when the last of the heat subsided and he was still working at her titties, she slammed the bottle hard across his left ear. He sunk to the floor with only a slight moan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jockey’s voice held the tenseness of his own excitement as he related his story to the café full of kids. He told his stories well and his audience was captured from the beginning. With rough, tough kids like the ones who continually surrounded themselves about him, the stories had to be good. They had to be as rough and as tough as the kids themselves. Jockey certainly wasn’t getting rich with his joint. He could have raised the prices like so many other places did, but what the hell. He liked kids and they liked him, and he swore to keep his prices to a minimum, well within their reach. He’d been plagued by beer and wine companies, in the beginning, to stock their wares. But beer and kids didn’t mix. He preferred the kids. A gang of dope pushers had tried to force their way in when they realized the capacity of his teenage business. It had been a touch and go business for a while; whether he’d be found cut up in some alley or with their dope oozing out of his joint. He held to his convictions and neither had come about.

  “And that’s the way it was! Fast! Exciting!”

  His eyes surveyed the tight sweaters, the leather jackets. Levi’s purchased, it seemed, with someone else in mind. Girls with too much lipstick and eye shadow. Boys searching for manhood through almost non-existent whiskers. “That car took off down the track like a bat out of Hades. The tire blew on the west turn. I held her steady. I thought of the infield and getting the bucket of bolts stopped, but there was no stopping that way. The gas pedal was stuck. The carb link held it because of a rusted release spring that broke. Brother, that was it. I was headin’ for the wall on the next turn. Too many people on the infield to risk headin’ in that way for a crash stop. I had to hit that wall. Hit it? Man—I went right through that wall!”

  “Were you hurt, Jockey?” came a girlish voice from the crowd.

  “Hurt hell,” came a boy’s voice accompanied by a strong laugh. “He was killed, can’t you see?”

  “Wiseguy, huh?” snickered Jockey. “Well, I spent two months in the hospital and another two with my legs and arms in casts.” He sighed as if remembering the incident. “That was a rough time. Hate to be laid up where ya can’t move around none. I’m a guy that craves action. Can’t stand layin’ around like that. Felt kinda’ trapped like. Always felt that way any time I got banged up and had to sit it out.”

  The man who came out through the kitchen door was a giant of a man, weighing well over three hundred and fifty pounds. He wore a tall chef’s hat over a completely bald head and a long, stained apron over his creaseless trousers and spotted T-shirt. “Jockey!” he grumbled in a deep, scratchy voice which would have foretold his gigantic size even in pitch dark.

  Jockey turned toward the big man.
“What do you want now, Chief?”

  “Ain’t no buns for burgers!”

  “You look in the bun container, under the bread rack?”

  “Oh,” he said with a stupid look to his placid face, then turned back into the kitchen.

  Rhoda, who had been sitting nearest to Jockey, took her eyes from the closed door and looked to Jockey. “Now that’s what I call a big one, Jockey.”

  “Yeah—I got him this morning.”

  “Where do you get ’em like that these days?” asked Babs as she leaned in around Rhoda.

  “Came in off the street. Wanted to know if I could use a dishwasher in exchange for a meal. So I takes one look at the size of the guy and realize it would take a month of dishes to pay for one of his meals. Anyway. I needed a cook and he said he could cook. So I put him to work. Said he’s some kind of an Indian Chief, so now he’s CHIEF cook and bottle washer.”

  The kids roared with laughter, then Rhoda said “Well, he’s sure enough a big one.”

  “Standing next to me,” said Jockey, “he looks like the whole Rocky Mountain.”

  “So why do you call him Chief?” asked Babs.

  “Like I said. He’s an Indian.”

  Rhoda turned to point her remark to the others. “Yeah—ain’t ya heard. He’s an Indian without a reservation.”

  And the crowd broke up. Their laughter rocked the room. Then Jockey’s eyes looked up sharply as he heard the front door to the café open.

  Dee stood dazed, unmoving, in the doorway. Her glassy eyes stared into the café as if they saw nothing at all. Her sweater was torn at the neckline. The zipper in the back of her Levi’s was torn beyond repair. No bruises were apparent on Dee’s face but there were many hidden under her dishevelled attire. Although her body had taken much abuse she felt no pain. The drugs shot into her arm saw to that.

  Jockey turned quickly to Rhoda and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. “She’s flyin’ right over the moon.”

  “Maybe higher,” breathed Babs.

  “Wonder who turned her on?” Rhoda spoke as she and Babs again turned to stare at the girl in the doorway.

  “Get her outta’ here,” demanded Jockey in a hard whisper. “Somebody catches her here like that we’re all in trouble. I never allow that kinda’ stuff, you kids know that.”

  “We’ll take care of her Jockey. Don’t get in no sweat,” protested Babs.

  “Just get her outta’ here and get goin’ quickly.”

  Rhoda and Babs quickly got up from their tables and moved past the knowing, and in many cases, envious, eyes of the assembled teenagers. Rhoda took one of Dee’s arms while Babs took the other then turned her to the hot rod. Rick sized up the situation quickly, and hopped over the side of the car. “Man, she’s stretchin’ for the great beyond.”

  Lonnie leaned over the side of his car. “Get her in the car before the fuzz sees her.”

  The two girls and Rick propelled Dee to the car, then bodily lifted her up and dumped her into the back seat. Then Rhoda opened the front door, pulled back the seat and she and Babs got in. They pulled Dee to a sitting position while Rhoda put her arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling forward again. The car, in an explosion of twin pipes, streaked off along the street almost before Rick had closed the door. But he was ready for such quick starts, he rolled with the punch, then settled back. “Who turned her on?” he asked as they sped through town.

  “We left her a couple of hours ago,” said Rhoda.

  “Where?” asked Lonnie.

  “Down near whore town,” replied Rhoda.

  “She was with Lark,” added Babs.

  “Lark? When’d he get back?”

  “Don’t know,” shrugged Babs. “We went walkin’ where Dee said and suddenly he pops out of a doorway. Dee told us to get lost. She stayed with him.”

  The hot rod reached the open desert, then a few minutes later Lonnie turned off the main highway onto a dirt road which led off into the desert proper. “We’ll take her up to the cabin. Let her fly it off there.”

  “She oughta know better’n to shoot up in town,” Rick replied in disgust. He turned to look at the girls in the back seat. “You Chicks better start huntin’ up a new leader. The big H is grabbin’ this one into flakeyland but fast.”

  “And that ain’t good for nobody!” Lonnie’s eyes were narrowed in his anger, but he kept them steadfast on the rutted road ahead of him.

  Rhoda and Babs glanced quickly at each other, both full well knowing the seriousness of what was being said. They looked to Dee who sat between them with a silly smirk on her face.

  Dee was lost in a blind world of her own making. She knew she was in a car and there were others with her. There were words, but none of them made any sense. The ringing in her ears made even less sense: a high pitched whine that seemed to draw out her very soul. Nothing was unpleasant about any of it, the sensations. There was only a feeling of well being, but it took centuries for her mind to focus on any one thing. The whorehouse and the whores were a hodgepodge, a kaleidoscope of colors and happenings. She remembered the prick of the needle in her arm and the passing of those horribly constricting pains in the pit of her stomach. And while the smack was taking hold she smoked a weed for a quick lift. The whores hadn’t bothered her until the pink clouds covered her mind and nothing else mattered. But then it started, an hour of tortures and degradations. She had suffered them before, every time she couldn’t promote the stuff elsewhere. There was the one who dressed in men’s clothing and strapped on a dildo with her as the wife. The others with their stinging belts and straps; high-heeled slippers, cutting deep into her back. Then it became her turn to strap on the dildo and take on the snaggle-toothed bitch called Mazie as if she were the wife while the one with the whip cracked her ass every time it came into the up position.

  Dee hated every minute of the abuse yet at no point, no matter what, did she want to stop. The more the abuse, the more she desired it and the more powerful her own climaxes. Even in her heroin enveloped mind she could feel the spasms of the other girls and got as much of a sexual thrill at those times as she did when she popped her own.

  Then it was over and she remembered somebody throwing the clothes on her. She didn’t want to go. She had tried to rip off her own Levi’s and something broke and she was tossed out onto the street. She hadn’t been ready to leave. She had wanted more action with the girls. There was no more to be had. The others were through with her . . . that seemed to be all there was to it.

  But she was in a car. The cool night breeze of the desert did little to bring her eyes or her mind into focus. All she knew was there were others in the car with her, but she couldn’t make out who. She fought to say “Who in hell are you? Where are you taking me?” But the words came out as a jargon of sound.

  “Shut her up,” smashed Lonnie, “before I stop these wheels and kick her ass from here all the rest of the way to the cabin.”

  “What in hell we supposed to do?” shouted Babs. “Jam a Kotex down her throat.”

  “Kotex . . . Kotex . . . Kotex . . .” rambled Dee, then broke into laughter, followed by tears.

  “She’s comin’ down out of the clouds,” informed Rhoda. “She’ll crap out pretty quick.”

  “Can’t stand broads who think they’re so tough, then can’t hold the kicks they bring on themselves.” Rick lit a marijuana, pressed the end and cupped his hand around the weed so as to get the most out of the smoke. He took it deep into his lungs. He sighed deeply as the sweet-smelling smoke started to take immediate effect. “Man . . . that’s the real weed. No horseshit mixed up in this batch.” He shook his head as if to clear his eyes. “Power . . . power . . . power . . .” he moaned ecstatically, stretching his arms far above his head.

  “Put one on me, will you Rick?” Babs leaned forward.

  He turned to look at her. “All I wanted to do was get in your panties. Remember last week? I wasn’t good enough for you then. You just crossed your legs and said I was a pig. I co
ulda’ taken it from you, broad, but I don’t like it that way. Suffer, bitch, suffer.”

  Babs cooed. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair. “Tonight’s different. ’Nother night. ’Nother time and place, and I got on clean panties.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to see your panties tonight.”

  “So you don’t wanna see my panties, but you always like what they hide. Butt me, Rick.” She leaned far forward, over the front seat and stuck her hot tongue in his ear. He brushed her away and rubbed frantically at his ear.

  “Cut that out, you bitch. You know I can’t stand that.”

  “I know,” she beamed.

  Rick turned to give her the half finished butt. “Heat up broad, you’re about to get laid.” He pointed off. “There’s the cabin.”

  Babs didn’t look to where he had pointed. She knew where the cabin was and how near they were to it. She cupped her hands much in the fashion Rick had done and she too inhaled deeply of the thick, sweet smoke.

  Dee’s nose twitched a few times as she smelled the smoke drifting past her. She groaned once and seemed to reach for the drifting smoke. Her hand went through the thick cloud and then she passed out, her head falling into Rhoda’s lap.

  “Bye bye Dee-Dee,” giggled Babs, and she let her free right hand drift up under the front of Rhoda’s sweater. “Titties . . . titties . . . titties,” she cooed.

  Rhoda held steadfast a moment, then moaned lightly and leaned across Dee’s unconscious form to accept the drug-induced passionate kiss Babs put to her lips.

  Lonnie watched them with ever-growing excitement through his rear view mirror. “Heat up, Rhoda,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get a good show tonight yet.”

  But Rhoda didn’t need any more heating up.

  Her legs moved slowly in every direction possible. Her fingernails bit hard into Bab’s back.

  Lonnie snapped the fingers of his right hand to Rick. “Butt me!”

  Rick fumbled in his pocket. He lit the pot in his own mouth and handed it across to Lonnie, then went back into his own dream world. Lonnie inhaled deeply, then again without looking back to the girls and their action directly, he said. “Save some for me, Babs.” And he stopped the hot rod in front of the old miner-type of shack he had called a cabin.