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Chapter 1


The squad car's wailing siren cut through the stillness of the summer
night like the sound of someone screaming in the throes of a nightmare.
From far off it came, ever rising and falling pitch bringing it closer
to the Valley Farms home of Kate and Lucy Barrett. It was eleven past
four in the morning when the call came in from Mrs. Barrett, according
to the precinct records, and twenty-two past when the patrol car
screeched to a halt in front of their rambling brick home. The two
officers, one white and one black, jumped from the car almost before it
had stopped moving, guns drawn, eyes searching the nearby hedges and
trees for the sign of movement that might mean the difference between
finishing their shift alive or going home in a rubber bag. Crime in
this Washington, D.C. suburb was no laughing matter. Not that anyone
would have laughed anyway - taxes had soared in recent years to meet
the costs of bigger and better police forces. And insurance premiums,
when you were lucky enough to get it all, were double what they were
five years ago. Most residents did without, absorbing the loss
themselves when they awoke to find their car looted or their television
missing when they returned from work. Or in some cases, the whole
house, rugs, drapes, furniture, everything!

Patrol Officer Bill Manners was the first up the long, stepping-stone
walk, his teammate, Turner Jackson, close on his heels. Manners was the
senior man in this car, Turner being a recent Police Academy graduate,
and the blond-haired Virginia family man was careful to stick by the
book as this was only Turner's second night out on patrol duty. He
glanced up and saw two female figures silhouetted on the drawn
curtains, apparently still in their sleeping wear, and he slipped his
revolver back into its holster and motioned for Turner to do the same.
There was little to be gained by frightening these poor civilians worse
than they had already been frightened. It was almost always the same on
these calls ... break-in in progress. Before they could arrive on the
scene, the burglar was long gone, probably hiding under a car somewhere
three or four blocks away. Or safely behind the wheel of a non-descript
sedan, motoring calmly back into the city, richer enough, if he was
lucky, to feed his habit for another twenty-four hours. If not, it was
back to the streets. Maybe this time an elderly pensioner coming home
from the late movies, or a newsstand operator going to work. But
wherever, however, he would get what he needed to keep him flying for
another day. There was never any choice for a heroin addict.

The door opened as they stepped onto the covered front porch and a
fortyish woman wearing an expensive-looking robe ushered them in with a
salesgirl's smile. "Come in, Officers, come in. I'm so glad you got
here quickly," she gushed. "My daughter Lucy and I have been scared out
of our wits. I tell you, it was horrible. Horrible! Oh where are my
manners ... I'm Kate Barrett, you know, of Barrett's Department Store
down at the shopping center."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And this is my daughter Lucy. Would you two fine officers care for
something to drink? I know you can't drink on duty, but I could spill a
little brandy when I pour your coffee," she said, lowering her voice as
if Lucy was too young to hear, and winking at the two policemen. But
there was little doubt about Lucy's maturity, as both officers quickly
noticed. She was wearing just what she had on when they heard the glass
breaking by the back door -- baby doll pajamas you could read a
newspaper through, though with her body, who'd want to read a
newspaper? Officer Manners took out his note-pad and began to record
the facts, but his eyes kept wandering from the pad and stealing
surreptitious glances at the most beautiful chest he had seen in a long
time. Christ, he thought, if my old lady had a pair of knockers like
those, I'd never leave the house!

"I'll have a little coffee, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble," he
said, dutifully writing down the address and the sketchy facts he knew
already. He could not be too careful on this call, for the Barrett
money was Establishment money. John Barrett owned most of this valley
at one time, before he subdivided it up and sold it for development,
and Manners had heard estimates in the millions of his worth in real
estate. He was dead now, over a year ago from a sudden heart attack.
Popular jokes held that he died struggling under the weight of a bag
full of his money, but that was not something for the record.

"Certainly, men ... Lucy, would you mind putting a little coffee in the
percolator for these gentlemen."

"No, ma'am ... I'd be delighted," she said as if she did not mean it at
all, and left the room. Officer Manners sneaked a quick look at the
backside of that gorgeous blonde's body under those see-thrus and, if
anything, it was even nicer than the front! High, tight cheeks that
rubbed together when she walked ... Man, what she'd be like in the
sack! He was sorry now that he had asked for coffee, because it robbed
him of any more sideways looks at the younger Barrett woman. Not that
the older one was any hag; Kate Barrett had that aura of well-preserved
beauty common to most rich women. The kind of cold, translucent good-
looks that comes with thrice-weekly trips to the Georgetown salons.

"Won't you gentlemen sit down?" the older red-haired woman inquired.
"I'm sure you two could use a breather, what with all the crime we've
been having lately in Valley Farms. Isn't it just awful? I mean, it
must be all those ..." She seemed to be about to say something but she
smiled stiffly in Officer Jackson's direction and bit her tongue. "What
I mean to say is, all those dope addicts and all from the city. I've
heard they come out five and six to a car, like going to a picnic!"

The young black officer nodded officiously. "That's partly true, Mrs.
Barrett. We do suspect that a lot of these break-ins and muggings
lately have been the work of addicts from Washington. I don't know
whether they make the ride out in carpools though ... it might look a
little suspicious. All those blacks in Valley Farms would stand out
like ..."

The senior officer cleared his throat meaningfully. "What he means,
ma'am, is that maybe we had better get on with the report. If the
burglar who tried to get in here is still around, we might spot him on
the street. Anyone out at this hour is usually up to no good."

"Oh, I do agree, Officer! I think there ought to be a curfew, except
for decent folks, don't you? I mean, what business do all these young
people have out at this hour?"

"Yes, ma'am, you're quite right."

"Mrs. Barrett," interrupted the black officer. "How would you propose
to tell the 'decent folks' from the troublemakers?"

"Why, I ... well, I don't know all the details. That's for smarter
people than I to work out."

Officer Manners shot his junior partner a look that could have cut
glass. "Let's go on with the report. Tell me exactly, in your own words
what happened."

Lucy Barrett returned with the coffee on a silver tray complete with
creamer and sugar bowl, and both the young police officers rose and
nodded their thanks courteously. She leaned precariously close to them
as she placed the tray on the coffee table at their knees; Officer
Manners cleared his throat again for something to do and managed,
finally, to get his eyes back on his note pad.

"Officers, the report?" the older woman dropped her words like lead
weights; since Lucy's unintentionally dramatic entrance she had lost
her audience. And Kate Barrett did not appreciate being upstaged by
another woman, even if she was her own flesh and blood. "Could we
continue?" she said icily, her thin veneer of charming hospitality
washed away like so much make-up.

Officer Manners sensed the change immediately and made up his mind to
get all the pertinent facts and get away from here; you could feel the
hostility in the air in the Barrett home. And whatever its source, he
wanted no part of it; the Barrett money was a dozen times what it took
to get a policeman fired. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a regulation
smile. "You were about to tell us what happened before your call.
According to what we have already, you called the switchboard at the
Valley Farms substation at eleven past four and reported a break-in
progress, is that correct?"

"Correct. Lucy and I both heard the noise. Our bedrooms are on the same
hallway and both of us knew it came from the back door in the kitchen.
Actually, it's in the laundry room, but it adjoins the kitchen. It's
only a few feet from the bedrooms on the back of the house."

"Then you were both in bed?"

"Yes, for hours. But would you like to see the backdoor for
yourselves?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was about to ask you."

"Actually, I think I'll excuse myself and try to get some more sleep.
I'm sure whoever he was, he won't be back around tonight with you
gentlemen on duty." She was all teeth and eyes, but both the policemen
felt her fangs plainly enough. "Lucy will show you the door and the
grounds, won't you dear? Thank you very much for your prompt, uh,
attention. And good-night." Officers Manners and Jackson rose as the
older Barrett woman got up to leave, and mumbled their courtesies as
she hurried off without a look back. It was a clear case of dismissal;
Kate Barrett was not accustomed to vying for attention. She would
rather make her exit a memorable one than play second-fiddle to Lucy's
spectacular endowments.

"Well, I guess the queen has retired to her chambers," Lucy said
bitterly when her mother was out of earshot. "Let's go out through the
dining room and I'll show you where the burglar tried to get in." She
walked ahead of them, and when she paused in the doorway of the
kitchen, Officers Manners and Jackson were treated to a sight that
would drive sensible men to drink. The kitchen light was a bright
fluorescent tube hidden above the counter, and with the dining room
darkened, it shone through Lucy's diaphanous pajamas like they were
clear plastic! Manners heard his partner gasp and he gave him a quick
elbow in the ribs before the young blonde turned to face them.

Turner Jackson knew he was taking a chance kidding around about a good-
looking white woman, especially a blonde one who could have just
stepped out of Playboy. He had known Bill Manners since before Police
Academy, and he knew he was no racist: still, a lot of good white men
grabbed for their sheets and crosses when they saw black eyes on smooth
white flesh. She was a real looker, all right, and she knew it. Turner
could see that as well as he could see the curvaceous outline of her
firm breasts beneath her pajama top; she might come in with the
innocent bit, but this one was no Sunday-school virgin!

"Over there, Officers ... that's the window he broke. We left
everything just as we found it. I saw them do that on a TV show just
last week. That was the right thing to do, wasn't it?" She was smiling
now and her face had all the well-scrubbed beauty of the girl next
door; it was hard to see any of Kate Barrett in this vivacious young
creature. Kate's looks were tough and hard, Lucy was as soft and cuddly
as a kitten once her mother was out of the room. And both Bill Manners
and Turner Jackson were thinking just how soft and cuddly she would be
... safely tucked away beneath the sheets.

Manners made all the necessary notes for his report; there was no point
in sending the crime truck around for fingerprints. He knew there would
not be any. There was tape on the glass and it had been cut in a circle
by a glass-cutter; this was obviously no neighborhood teenager or
hungry wino. It had to be a professional break-in artist, even though
he blew it when the glass slipped and crashed to the kitchen tile
floor, and professionals did not leave fingerprints.

There was little left to be done and Officer Manners, as senior man,
thanked Lucy for her trouble and promised they would cruise the
neighborhood until dawn just in case the burglar was still around. She
walked them to the front door, and as the two cops turned to say good-
night, she was silhouetted again in the doorway, her slender curves
outlined in the diffused light that filtered through her nightie. God,
was she ever a tease! thought the officer as he waved good-bye. Nobody
could be that naively innocent!

"Bill, what'ya think of all that?" Jackson asked when they were back in
the patrol car

"Just a routine break-in attempt."

"Oh, not that. You know what I mean. That little prick-tease running
around waving those titties in our face! Man, she's gonna' get herself
raped if she keeps that up!"

"Yeah, well just don't get any ideas, Jackson. That's rich man's pussy,
both of them. You and I just don't qualify," the blond policeman said
as he turned the ignition. "Call in and let them know we're back in the
car, will you, Turner?"

The black officer waited for a gap in the unusually busy communications
traffic, and then gave the appropriate code numbers to indicate they
were again ready for action. He strapped himself into the bucket seat
as the heavy police-special cruiser surged down Valley Farms Road
toward the lights of Washington far in the distance. It would be light
soon, time for some more coffee and perhaps a couple of doughnuts at
the all-night Dunkin' Donuts out on the highway. "I was thinking,
Bill," he said after they had traveled a few blocks.

"'Bout what?"

"About those two women ... how come they seem to be at each other's
throats like they do. It just don't seem right. Mrs. Barrett being a
widow and all."

"That's part of the problem, Turner."

"What? Her being a widow?"

Manners reached down to the radio and turned the squelch knob up enough
to drown out some of the pre-dawn static. "Yeah ... there's a lot of
stories around about those two. Not that I travel in the same circles,
you understand. That kind of life is too rich for me, at least on a
cop's salary. I'd never have heard the gossip at all if it hadn't been
for Flaherty. You know, that red-headed guy who works second shifts ...
anyway, he moonlights over at the Valley Farms Club on weekends,
keeping an eye on traffic and such. Pays good money, I understand.
Well, he said that any time two of those rich ol' cunts get together
over there, it's to share a new story about Kate and Lucy Barrett."

"Wow, what are they a couple of weirdos or something?"

"No, nothing quite so spectacular. The story is that Lucy and Kate
inherited an equal share of the Barrett holdings, with Lucy's portion
in trust until she's twenty-five."

"You mean that sweet littl' thing isn't legal?"

"Well, she's fucking legal, if that's what's on your dirty mind. But
she's not legal enough to inherit her portion of the estate. So she's
sort of dependent on her mother for everything. That's why she's going
to business school, to get a job and support herself."

"All that money and she's worrying about working?"

"She's got a few years yet before she gets it, and from what Flaherty
tells me, she probably won't be living at home much longer. She's got a
boyfriend, see, some punk she dredged up from somewhere. I don't know
what a sweet piece like her sees in a long-hair, but that's the drift.
The ol' lady hates his guts ... won't even let him on the property. And
since she's Lucy's legal guardian and controls the purse-strings, she's
pretty much got the upper hand."

"I should have guessed it ... whenever there's a squabble between two
cunts, you can be damn sure there's a cock somewhere in the middle!"

"Jackson, you've sure got a dirty mouth. But I think you're right this
time. Only it's two cocks, not one?"

"Two? Well, no wonder Lucy hangs around with this long-hair! He's
really somethin' special!"

"No, stupid. The other cock's attached to one J. Marlowe."

"The big clothing manufacturer who was in Newsweek a while back? He's
the one with factories all over the world ... wherever there's cheap
labor."

"Honestly, Turner, you surprise me. I didn't know you read anything
heavier than comic books."

The black officer laughed and took a pack of cigarettes from the glove
compartment, not offering his partner one because Manners was a non-
smoker. "Not all us niggers is dumb, boss man," he said with a thick
plantation accent.

"Yeah? Then if you're so smart, figure out the rest of the story
yourself." They were turning into the country club driveway for a sweep
through the parking lot, always a good spot for catching a couple of
late-neckers with their pants down.

"No, you tell me ... it's getting more interesting all the time."

"Actually, there's not much more to tell. At least, not until I get the
latest rumors from Flaherty. It seems that young Lucy was sort of
attached to her father, maybe more than is natural for a girl her age,
and she doesn't like the idea of Daddy's widow with a new boyfriend ...
Jerry Marlowe in the flesh."

"Aha, the ol' Electra complex rears its ugly head!"

"Jeez, Turner, you're a pretty smart fellow! How come you're a cop?"
Just then their number came across on the radio: disorderly conduct at
an all-night service station. "Probably a fist-fight ... better get
ready for a little action!" He down-shifted the powerful Mercury and it
belched with a throaty roar as they left Valley Farms in a cloud of
taxpayers' rubber. The doughnuts would have to wait.



Chapter 2


"Lucy, don't just walk past me like I'm not standing here! Come in here
. .. I want to talk to you!" Kate Barrett had changed into a dress and
stockings; she was always an early riser, and this morning it would
just be a bit earlier than usual. She had never really intended to go
back to sleep anyway, but she needed some excuse to get away from those
adolescent police officers. Another minute of the way they were ogling
Lucy and she'd have lost her cool completely!

"Sorry, Mother," the younger woman said politely, her lips pressed
together in what passed as a smile. "I didn't see you. What do you
want? I have classes in just over three hours."

"Never mind your classes. What's the idea of parading around this house
like some kind of ... some kind of whore!" Her teeth clenched as she
spat out the word; it left her lips like some bit of bad food.

"Parading where? I've just been walking around my house. Oh, excuse me,
your house. I wasn't aware that doing so made me some kind of fallen
woman." Lucy stood barely an inch shorter than her mother, and she
showed no signs of backing down. Arguing like this had become something
of a nightly ritual since John Barrett's death, and both women had
plenty of practice by now.

"You know damn well what I mean! You and that see-thru outfit with
those pimply-faced cops peering at your bosom. Honestly, what do you
take me for? I'm not blind!"

Lucy laughed weakly. "I'll tell you what I take you for ... if
anybody's the whore, it's you! Those men were nearly thirty, young
enough for me maybe, but not old enough for you! I think you're just
jealous because I got all the attention! That's what's eating you,
you're jealous! Why don't you call up your friend with the lavender
cologne? He might pay some attention to you!"

"Lucy Barrett, I won't listen to that kind of talk! Maybe I was a
little hasty, but you've got no right to talk that way about Mr.
Marlowe. He's a good friend of the family and he's been a real help
these last few months!"

"Yeah, I'll bet ... help at what? Or should I guess. I'm not blind
either, you know. I've seen you two kissing and grabbing at each other
like a couple of ..."

Kate's palm flashed upward and stung across her daughter's cheek with a
loud smack. Lucy scarcely moved, but her face bore the mark of four red
fingers like a stenciled hand on her cheek. "Lucy ... I'm sorry ...
Lucy?"

Lucille Edgecombe Barrett turned on her bare feet and walked away
silently to her room, closed the door behind her, and locked it
carefully. Not until she was in bed with her head beneath her pillow
did she let herself go. A half hour later she had cried herself to
sleep, and she did not awaken until the alarm rang at quarter past
seven.

Kate Barrett's room was closed when she passed it on the way down to
fix herself a quick breakfast. The Barrett domestic, Clara had arrived
and was cleaning up the broken glass by the back door when Lucy came
in. "Trouble, Miss Lucy? You look like you haven't slept a wink. That
is, unless you got them red eyes from drinking."

Lucy gave the elderly black woman a warm hug. "No, Clara, just the same
old thing. Mother and I had another of our fights. This one was a real
lulu."

"Which one of you broke the door?"

"Neither one. We had a break-in here last night. Or rather almost had
one. I guess the lights must have scared him away."

"A break-in? Did you call the police?"

Lucy was pawing through the cupboard in search of a snack-sized box of
cereal. "Oh, yeah, police and guns and everything. And then Mother
accused me of being a whore and slapped me."

"What? Why, Miss Lucy, that don't sound right to me. Are you sure it
happened just like that?"

The long-haired blonde girl sat down at the kitchen breakfast table and
stared into the empty coffee cup that Clara had provided for her. "No,
Clara, I don't know how it happened. It was just like all the other
nights. She said something or I said something and we were off and
running. Only this time she hit me ... hard." She was trying not to
look at Clara, for the gray-haired Negro woman had practically raised
her and it was impossible to keep anything from Clara. She could lie to
Kate, even once in a while to Daddy when he was alive, but never to
Clara. She was too sharp.

"Listen honey, you forget all about that school this morning. They'll
understand you missing a couple of classes. I'm gonna fix you a nice
hot breakfast just like I used to do when you was a baby. And then you
can tell ol' Clara all about it, 'ya hear?" She did not receive an
answer, but when the elderly woman turned from her dishes, Lucy had her
face buried in her hands and it was plain to see she was crying.

* * * * *

You could always hear David coming long before you saw him; his late-
fifties MG had not seen a muffler without holes in more years than
anyone could remember. How he managed to keep the thing on the streets
was a puzzlement to everyone who knew him or the car. David had the
sort of looks that usually draw small-town cops like sugar draws ants:
long hair, a Mexican-bandito mustache. And always the latest in freaky
clothes. But somehow he managed to elude them, for his racing green MG
was almost an institution on the streets between Valley Farms and
Alexandria. He never drove his car into the city; because of thieves,
he said, but most people suspected it was because the D.C. cops would
be less likely to put up with that awful brraaappp!

Lucy Barrett remembered the exact day she first met David; the exact
day, the hour, the minute, all of it. It was the night Kate first
brought Jerry home with her. Oh, sure, she knew they had been seeing
each other. Everyone in Valley Farms knew by that time. But at least
until then she had had the decency to keep him out of their home. Her
father's home!

And Kate Barrett brought that sawed-off shrimp of a man with his awful
pot belly into the study where she was doing her homework and
introduced him, just like that. What was she supposed to do, curtsy and
pretend she was glad to meet him? That man in her father's house? Well,
she didn't, and she was not sorry in the least now as she waited
outside the school for David to pick her up. No, not in the least. That
was the night she first went to Scottie's, a late-night drive-in
hangout not far from Valley Farms, but definitely on the shadier side
of the tracks. Lucy had never even felt the urge to go to that awful
place, though some of the bolder girls from Valley Farms went over in
groups of four or five just for laughs sometimes. Much in the manner
that the Park Avenue swells used to go down to the Apollo in Harlem
before the blacks declared them non-grata. Lucy went there that night
for one reason -- to get drunk on beer. She ordered a plate of French
fries and a half-quart of beer, just like she had heard the kids did it
here; and when it came, she gulped half of it down without a breath.
Lucy was no drinker, at least not then, but she had sampled a few
different drinks over the years, including a fair share of beer at
debutante-season parties and by the pool at the country club. That
night, though, she had only wanted to get drunk as quickly and
painlessly as possible, and being under legal age, beer was the safest
way. She had finished the first and ordered a second when David poked
his head in her passenger-side window. Perhaps if she had not downed
that large can of beer so quickly, she would have switched on the power
window and told him to get lost. Perhaps.

But Lucy invited him inside instead; why not? she asked herself,
Mother's at home with her boyfriend. If she can play around with a fat
old creep like Jerry Marlowe, then I can pick my own playmates too! she
told herself assuringly.

And that was exactly what she did. Call it revenge, getting even, even
love, but the end result is the same. Lucy Barrett lost her virginity
that night in David's third-story studio apartment in Alexandria. It
was all over so quickly she could hardly remember it now; of course,
being perfectly soused might have affected her memory a bit. And
looking back, she felt not the slightest recriminating pang, not one.
She took David home to their Valley Farms house the very next night and
treated Kate Barrett to a bit of her own medicine. Of course, John
Barrett's charming widow was too much the southern aristocrat to make a
scene in front of company, even if the guest was, in her own words,
"some degenerate hippie creep and probably an addict as well." The real
scene came later, when David dropped her off at half past three in the
morning, but Lucy came out ahead on points at the end of round one by
turning up the very next afternoon for five o'clock cocktails at the
Club with David firmly in tow. Long hair, sandals, dirty jeans, and
all. That was the real beginning of a running battle between the
Barrett womenfolk that had dragged on for over a month. Kate Barrett
with her "gentleman friend" and Lucy with her hippie.

"Hi, baby, been waiting long?" Lucy was so caught up in her reminiscing
that she failed to hear David pull to the curb, and that was no mean
oversight with his MG.

"No, just a couple of minutes," she lied to save conversation. "Let's
get out of here, David. I'm just not in the mood for school today. I
slept through the business accounting class and I was supposed to see
the Dean about being late this morning, but I just cut out."

"Okay, baby, I think you should have split from that lousy place a long
time ago. Who the hell wants to go to school to learn to be a file
clerk?"

Lucy reached inside and opened the latch of the tiny sports car and
then climbed into the passenger seat, doubling her long legs to get
them inside. David leered down between them at the snatch of white as
her panties showed momentarily. "Hmm, nice beaver shot there,
sweetheart," he said with a phony Bogart lisp.

"Can it, David," the well-built young blonde shot back irritably. "Step
on the gas, will you, I said I wanted to get out of here. How about a
couple of beers at Scottie's?"

He threw the gearshift into first and popped the clutch in a howl of
burning rubber. "Scottie's?" he inquired over the raucous din of the
finely-tuned roadster. "What made you decide that? We haven't been to
Scottie's since the night we met. I thought you didn't like the place."

"Well, that was yesterday and today's today. Now I'd like to have a
beer at Scottie's. And then maybe over to your place."

David did not need any further hints; Lucy was strangely eager to get
into bed today, and whatever the reason, he was game. Lucy was the kind
of dish some men lived all their lives without once ever having, and
she was his for the taking! "Okay, baby, Scottie's it is. And then my
place for dessert, right?" he said with a knowing chuckle.

Lucy turned her head and looked at him blankly. "Don't joke about it,
David. I need it today, that's all ... I need you!"

David pressed the accelerator a bit closer to the floorboards; he'd
never seen her quite like this. And Lucy to practically ask for it.
Damn that was almost unthinkable! He glanced to be sure she was looking
away and then used the heel of his palm to press down the eager
erection that was already bulging in his tight Levi's.

* * * * *

The cramped walk-up studio that he rented was, as usual, in need of a
woman's touch. Food from meals already digested and forgotten lay
hardening in the sunlight that glared in from outside. This place had
little to say for it, but its Southern exposure was its one redeeming
point. Even in the dead of winter, there was more sun here than in most
penthouses. The one large room was papered floor to ceiling with rock
posters from the sixties; David had lived in San Francisco then and
was, as he told it somewhat sketchily, somehow loosely connected with
the defunct Avalon ballroom. Lucy, in her more cognizant moments,
guessed that he was perhaps a ticket-taker, but she never ventured to
question him further. David was not the kind of person one ever got to
know extremely well; she supposed she knew him as well as anyone, and
still there were a lot of stones uncovered. Like, for instance, what he
did for a living. He did not seem to have a lot of money, but he always
had just enough. Yet when she asked him about his source of income, he
always answered in some vague generality about being an "agent," then
sometimes a few words about "finders' fees and such."

Lucy had heard of such things; John Barrett always took her into his
confidence. He often said that he wanted no daughter who was capable of
being just a housewife: therefore, he explained the innermost workings
of his businesses in detail to her as a teenager, usually when she
would have preferred television or a drive in the country. But she
never let on to David that she had any familiarity at all with the
world of business and finance; as far as he knew, she understood just
what little they taught her at business school. And that was hardly
enough to make a decent secretary. In all honesty, she had to admit, if
only to herself, that she had some doubts about David's standing in the
financial community, but that never bothered Lucy Barrett. She had all
the money she needed, and a lot more corning when she turned twenty-
five, so what did it matter if David probably had some part-time job he
was ashamed to tell her about. Maybe in a service station since he
liked cars so much, she sometimes guessed. But only when it crossed her
mind at all, which was seldom.

"Want another beer?" he asked, opening the refrigerator.

"No, thanks, those two at Scottie's were enough for me. I have to go
home eventually, and one drunk in the house is quite enough."

"Ol' lady's on the sauce again?" he laughed.

"Not so bad as before, when Daddy died. But she's knocking down more
than her share. And that boyfriend of hers kills a bottle every day or
so. Scotch, naturally, at twelve bucks a bottle."

"Can't the tight-ass afford his own booze? I thought he had tons of
money."

"Yeah, I suppose. He's got lots of money, but he'd rather drink for
free, I guess," the attractive blonde explained as she dropped across
David's unmade double bed. She always felt a tingle of excitement when
she lay on this bed; this was where she first had a man. This was the
only place where she'd had a man.

David kneeled on the mattress beside her, placing his half-full beer on
the headboard. "Well, let's not talk about that jerk Marlowe. We've got
more important things to do, right, baby?" Lucy felt her whole body
begin to shiver as his hands touched the small of her back and then
moved down over her soft round buttocks and started to push the hem of
her school dress up along the backs of her smooth unblemished thighs.
She heard his breathing suddenly grow faster, and she could feel the
hot intensity of his stare there between her slightly-spread thighs. He
gave her a meaningful nudge and she lifted her hips and then her
breasts so that he could pull her dress up and off, pausing first to
unzip it at the shoulders.

"Mmmmmmmm," she murmured softly as his hands smoothly caressed their
way down her back as he unhooked her brassiere; that too was removed
quickly as she lifted her large firm breasts from the mattress for
Davis to pull it away. She felt a quiver of eagerness as her naked
breasts rubbed against the sheet; her nipples hardened in contact with
the coarse fabric, and Lucy could feel that familiar surge of passion
rushing through her chest and loins.

His warm hands moved further down her back as he hooked his fingers in
the taut elastic band at the top of her panties, and then he yanked and
tugged until they cleared the swell of her hips and slid over the
luxurious half-globes of her buttocks. In another few seconds, he had
them down her long trim thighs and then, as she lifted her ankles
cooperatively, he removed them and dropped them on the floor beside the
bed. Lucy was totally naked now, not having worn any stockings to
school because of the muggy heat and humidity, and she purred like a
complacent kitten as his searching hands coursed over her eagerly,
devouring her naked flesh with his fingertips. His hand slipped easily
up between her milky-white thighs until his fingers brushed
electrically across the sparse blonde pubic hair around her vagina; his
finger swept just slightly over the quivering, nerve-filled bud of her
clitoris, and she moaned loudly, a visible shiver of excitement racing
up from her naked loins and along her bare smooth back. His own fervent
lust thoroughly aroused, the long-haired young man lifted and rolled
her voluptuous body over easily so that her full frontal nudity was
offered up to him like an obscene French postcard. Her eyes were hardly
more than slits, and her naked firm breasts rose and fell in the
swelling crescendo of her blatant and uncontrollable passion!

David's lust-widened eyes bulged to take in all of the rich young
blonde's luridly exposed sensuality. Like every other time he had
brought her up here to this dingy apartment, she was hotter than New
York on the Fourth of July -- her legs twitching anxiously and her ripe
little ass just squirming with excited eagerness. Lucy Barrett, John
Barrett's only child, and here she was in his bed, begging for his
cock! What incredible sweet irony! It was just too damn much.

He could scarcely suppress the smirk of absolute victory that seemed to
creep across his face on its own ... Oh, you hot-ass piece o'pussy,
you'd absolutely shit if you knew the whole story! Yes, you would!

That night she turned up like something out of a dream ... Lucy Barrett
alone and crying her big blue eyes out at a dump like Scottie's! He had
to look twice before he was certain himself, as he had only seen her
before from a distance, but with a face like an angel and a body that
could tempt a saint, he knew it had to be the same girl. It had been
nearly a year since John Barrett gave the order to have him fired from
the shipping department, instructions that included turning his name
over to the police for being a marijuana smoker. His foreman had caught
him with a lighted "joint" during his lunch break, and being the hard-
hat that he was, went straight to John B. himself. Lucy never knew any
of this, of course, for the store had kept it quiet to avoid publicity.
And though the charges were eventually dropped by the District
Attorney's office, he had spent a nervous two months sweating it out.
And unemployed to boot. He swore to get even that very day he was
fired, but he had given it up as a lost cause until he spotted Lucy
that night at Scottie's.

David had another job now, thanks to John Barrett. Or rather, no
thanks, for he would rather have been on welfare than doing what he was
into now. He had reluctantly agreed to do some work for Sammy DeAngelo
and his organization, just that one time to make ends meet. One little
trip down to the Naval Yards at Norfolk with a certain small package to
deliver, just that one time. But it didn't work out that way; with
Sammy's organization it never did. Once they had their hooks in you,
your ass was theirs until they tired of you. First they were all smiles
and please-and-thank-you, then they lost their charming good humor when
you refused them another delivery run. And when you went out to start
your car one morning and found all the tires slashed even though it had
been left under a street light, then, if you were smart, you knew that
the organization had you where they wanted you. Right under their
thumb.

Only now David could see a light at the end of the tunnel -- a way out
from under Sammy's crushing weight and a chance to get even with John
Barrett at the same time! It was almost too good to be true, all that
money just waiting to be grabbed. He could tell Sammy to shove it and
split for the Riviera where the real action was! And the best part of
all was fucking John Barrett's high class daughter while he bided his
time. Roll over in your grave, John Barrett, you mother-fucker!

His hands again roamed upward between her thighs until he could feel
the hotly-steaming furrow of her young cuntal flesh quiver in
passionate reply to his lust-inciting caresses. "Ooooohhhh," she sighed
up at him and when he lowered his face to hers, her tongue lashed out
as if to pull him closer and then pushed wetly into his clinging mouth
in a lascivious signal of utter surrender.

Lucy was only half-aware of a hurried bustling of clothing, and when
she opened her eyes wider, David was standing over her completely
naked, his man-sized cock visibly pulsating between both his hands. He
crawled onto the bed and kneeled over her prostrate form with a self-
satisfied smirk on his face. "Reach down and stick it in, sweetheart."
She complied almost immediately, and he moaned a long, deep sigh as her
warm fingers closed eagerly around his rigid penis and then began to
push the thick fleshy foreskin back over the distended purplish knob.
She squeezed his cock-shaft impatiently and eased it up against the
hotly-steaming lips of her hungering cunt.

David could feel the softly tickling pubic hair brushing against his
lust-distended member as it poised tremblingly at the very cuntal mouth
of her vagina. Her pussy-heat seemed to draw him like a magnet,
threatening to suck him voraciously into the very pit of her desire-
heightened loins. He knew she was his, all of her, every delicious
naked inch of her! All his life he'd hungered for a woman like her, but
they were always too distant for a boy from the wrong side of town.
He'd seen them for years in their fancy cars, with their prissy
college-boy lovers. And now he had the cream of the crop, John
Barrett's daughter herself, squirming on his unmade bed like some hash-
house waitress he'd brought up for a quick piece of tail!

This time, he thought wickedly, this time she'll wait until I say so!
She wants my cock so bad it hurts, but she'll wait, goddamn her, until
I'm ready to shove it into her tight country-club pussy!

"Want it, baby?" he sneered coarsely into her ear.

Lucy did not answer but lay beneath him groaning in barely-audible
gasps through her clenched teeth: her lips were pulled back and
quivering with the frenzied passion her lover always stirred between
her supple thighs.

"I asked you a question," he said with thinly-veiled sadism. "Do you
want it or not? You gotta' ask me real nice if you do."

Lucy shivered beneath him. "P-please, David, don't make me do that ...
just take me, darling! Please! I need it ... so bad!"

"No dice, honey ... I want to hear you ask real sweet-like. This time,
for a change, we do it my way!" He looked into her perspiration-beaded
face and he knew he would be victorious; whatever it was that drew her
to him, whatever strange power he seemed to have over her, it was
working its magic now. Her tongue encircled her trembling lips in
obvious passionate hunger; her eyes were closed but her eyelids
fluttered at the touch of his naked male penis against her moistly-
quivering cuntal softness. He was on his elbows over her, his cock
insinuated just slightly between the pouting pink lips of her nakedly
beckoning vagina, but suddenly another idea flashed in his mind --
something new, even for him, a little special way he'd heard about but
never tried ... he could fuck her between those big, beautiful titties!
Man, what a treat!

David sighted down along the muscular hardness of his chest to the
luscious blonde's slightly quivering breasts, firm and soaring as they
shivered beneath him. Placing a leg on either side of her slender
torso, he squirmed forward and positioned himself with his immensely-
swollen cock between her white, pink-capped breasts; the soft warm
flesh of her naked breasts closed around the rigid blood-engorged
length of his organ and he gasped at the exciting exotic sensation. His
fingers shook with the eagerness of his growing lust as he squeezed the
resilient fleshy mounds until his tightly fondling grip left tiny red
welts between the ridges of his fingers; he kneaded them and crushed
them into a dozen different shapes, but every time they snapped back to
the full voluptuous mounds that Lucy Barrett was so proud of.

David moaned with the exquisite pleasure of Lucy's breasts encircling
warmth around his cock; he squeezed them tightly together so that they
formed a narrow tunnel-like opening and he rocked his pelvis back and
forth so that his hard, lust-engorged cock slithered back and forth
inside the hairless, tightly gripping cleft between her high-set
breasts. He pushed the purplish bulbous head of his cock through the
tightly encircling channel between her breasts until it poked
lasciviously against the underside of her chin; she jerked away with a
half-intelligible gasp of revulsion -- fellatio was not her bag; he had
tried often enough, but Lucy just would not cooperate. He eased back
and laughed silently at the tiny smear of his seminal fluid that
glistened there above her blemish-free neck.

For several long tantalizing minutes more, he kept up the slow,
slithering pace ... his own sticky discharge had thoroughly moistened
the smooth-bored cleft between her breasts and his cock slid right up
to her chin. Lucy turned her face away disgustedly, but he could still
feel the vibrant sexuality that flooded her body and knew she was
totally under his control. All except for one thing, that one single
act he'd never been able to force out of her -- she had never given him
a blow job. Well, he thought, all in time ... it wouldn't be smart to
ruin this little set-up just because I ain't getting any head! There
are plenty of other birds around who love a taste of cock now and then!

His hands squeezed her large full breasts in from the sides so tightly
that his cock could scarcely slide between them; he had his eyes half-
closed and his teeth clenched with the wildly erotic sensation of this
strangely inciting experience. He felt the surging tide of his male
orgasm begin to swell deep in his sperm-laden testicles and he thought
with a lewd mocking grin ... Hell, why not! It ought to be good for a
laugh!

Pushing the pliant mounds together so hard that Lucy cried out in pain,
he humped ferociously forward a few last quick times, his pistoning
penis slithering machine-like between her tightly smashed breasts; her
nipples almost touched as he shoved the warm womanly orbs together, and
then with a grunting sigh of release, he let his lust-bloated balls
explode along the steel-hard shaft of his cock until the seething
viscous stream gushed between her crushed pink-tipped breasts and onto
her neck and chin like a sticky glob of spittle.

Lucy started from the sudden unexpected sensation of something warm and
liquid on her flesh, and when she looked up and saw David looking down
at her mockingly, his face slashed with a sneer, she squirmed
maddeningly to wriggle out from beneath him, but he held her securely
between his knees. "Damn you, David!" she spat up at him. Damn was the
strongest expletive he had ever heard her use and she reserved it for
the really furious moments. "That was a rotten, disgusting thing to do!
I need you, David, I told you that ... and now look what you've done!
That was ... filthy, that's what it was! Filthy!"

David raised one leg and moved off of her, trailing his flaccid penis
across the still vibrant mound of one of her breasts, leaving a smear
of semen that oozed over her crinkly nipple like some after-bath cream.
He knelt beside her on the messy unmade bed; the sheets beneath his
knees were nearly beige with dirt and God-knows-what-else. "Don't get
all worked up, baby," he said with a confident grin. His hand lifted
the rubbery length of his deflated cock and flapped it around like a
length of hose. "There's still plenty left for you ... just get it nice
and hard again and it's all yours. I just wanted to see how I liked a
tit-fuck, and now I know."

Lucy looked up at him, her eyes burning with a potent mixture of
passion and anger. She would have liked to spit in his face and walk
out of here ... but she knew she wouldn't. Instead, swallowing her
rich-girl pride like an unwanted oyster, she took his soft penis and
began to knowingly stroke its fleshy skin. She did not look up at him
at all and in hardly any time it was growing hard once again, just as
it always did. Lucy Barrett knew it would be late into the night before
she returned home to Valley Farms.



Chapter 3


A visit by Kate Barrett to the three-story department store that bore
her married name was always something of an occasion; not, perhaps, to
the hundreds of customers who milled about in search of bargains, but
the word spread like brush-fire among the various clerks and cashiers
and floorwalkers. Kate Barrett is here in person! Dozens of sales were
briefly interrupted as employees glanced up for a furtive glimpse of
the woman who effectively controlled their working lives. One word from
this tall, attractive redhead could put them on unemployment; no one
failed to realize her power as far as this successful business was
concerned. And the same unspoken question was on everyone's lips -- why
had she come to the store?

Kate, alone, moved swiftly through the afternoon crowds, mostly
housewives and small children, until she reached the employee's
elevator that would take her to Karl Henderson's penthouse offices. She
liked dropping in unannounced, if only because it always seemed to make
the General Manager so nervous; Henderson was an efficient overseer,
but too afraid for his job to suit Kate Barrett. He had been John's
personal choice, though, and she would never have gone against the
weak-chinned balding little man for fear of tangling with the
directors. Kate tightly controlled the corporation, but still the
directors had to be kept smiling. As long as the store showed a
substantial profit, why should she concern herself with a faceless
nobody like Karl Henderson, she asked herself.

An occasional older employee, emboldened with seniority, nodded or
smiled greetings to the company matriarch as she passed, and Kate was
all teeth and fluttering eyelids. Kate was known as a woman of steel to
everyone she had ever dealt with, but she effectively camouflaged her
toughness with a Southern belle charm that was often her most potent
weapon.

"Good afternoon, Kate ... it's nice to see you here again." She spun
around instantly, surprised but not offended at the informality; it was
Sol Marcus, one of the store's oldest employees. Sol was more like
family than employee, and Kate hurried to kiss him on the cheek. John
had hired him personally, back before the last war, and though he was
way overdue for forced retirement, the Board of Directors, at Kate's
heavy-handed insistence, had voted to keep him on as sort of a
floorwalker emeritus. Sol had often told his friends that retirement
would be the death of him; he had no family, no really close friends,
just the store.

"Sol, it's been ages! Why don't you ever come out to Valley Farms like
you used to? Lucy and I would love to see you!"

The slight, bespectacled man looked down at the floor as if
embarrassed. "I guess I should have come ... but I just didn't know if
I'd be welcome, now that John -- Mr. Barrett -- is gone."

"Nonsense, Sol! You just come anytime. Call me ahead of time and I'll
fix you a nice home-cooked meal, just like the old times."

With what looked like a tear in his eye, the graying old man took
Kate's hand and squeezed it firmly with surprising strength. "Thank
you, Kate, I'd love to. Thank you." And then he turned silently and
returned to his job of watching over the appliance section, a highly
unlikely spot for shoplifting and actually a section created just for
him. Kate waved hello to one other recognized old-timer and entered the
elevator for the swift ride to the penthouse; she was certain, of
course, that Karl Henderson's secretary had already received at least a
half-dozen warnings from various friends on the first floor that she
was on her way up. That always made it even more fun to watch the look
of feigned surprise as she stepped into the green-carpeted foyer of the
executive suite.

The stainless-steel doors parted with a pneumatic sigh, and Kate
stepped onto the luxuriously thick carpeting and waited for Miss
Randal, the executive receptionist, to look up and "discover" that the
prime shareholder and Chairwoman of the Board of Directors was paying a
call.

"Why, Mrs. Barrett!" she fairly shrieked, "What a delightful surprise!"
She had that syrupy voice common to all receptionists, a tone that
somehow lacked a shred of real emotion.

"Good afternoon, Miss Randal," Kate said officiously; receptionists
were not, as a rule, her favorite people. "Is Mr. Henderson in?" He
damn well better be; we don't pay him to stay out of the office!

"Yes, ma'am, he's on a call to one of our buyers in New York, but I'm
sure he'll interrupt it to see you. Just a moment, let me buzz him."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that." Buyer in New York, indeed: who does
she think she's fooling! Karl Henderson wouldn't condescend to speak to
a buyer unless it was absolutely necessary!

Almost before the pretty young receptionist could get the words from
her lips, the heavy wooden door marked Private opened with a noisy bang
and Karl Henderson nearly threw himself into the foyer. "Kate! What a
surprise! Come in, come in!"

Henderson made a flourishing gesture that was almost a bow and swept
her into his spacious penthouse office with a gentle motion of his
hand. The suite was tastefully done, decorated solely with merchandise
the store handled and accented with a few odds and ends the company's
interior designer had chosen; it was relatively simple and stark,
befitting a retail merchandiser, and possessed what would have to be
one of the most beautiful views in the suburban sprawl of the nation's
capital. In the murky distance, you could actually catch a glimpse
through the smog of the city's various monuments; the Washington
monument stuck up through the brown haze somewhat appropriately as a
single upraised finger.

"Sit down, Kate, love, and make yourself comfortable. Would you care
for a drink? Or maybe some hors d'oeuvres from the dining room?"

"No, thanks, Karl," she answered with a dismissing wave of her wrist.
"I'm here on business this trip and I'll try to make it quick."

"Oh ..." Karl Henderson looked momentarily shaken, and his retailer's
smile vanished in a trickle from his lips.

"Now don't go getting all worried, Karl. This is personal business, not
store business. I have a problem maybe you can help me with."

"Oh! Indeed!" His smile had mysteriously returned and Henderson was his
ebullient self. "Anything for you, Kate, you know that!"

"I'll get straight to the point, Karl. We had a break-in last night out
at our house ..."

"A break-in! Goodness, did you call the police?"

"Yes, yes ... actually whoever it was didn't get in. They got scared
away when we turned on the lights. But it all got me thinking ... two
women alone in that big house with God-knows-who riding around the
streets. Well, I want to do something to give us a bit more security.
What do you recommend? A burglar alarm?"

"Just a second, Kate. Let's bring in an expert ... our security chief,
Allen Biggs. I'll call him up here." He pressed a button on his
intercom, and when Miss Darnel's voice chirped through, he gave
instructions for Biggs to be sent for from his office in the basement.
Henderson talked shop for a few minutes while they awaited the security
man, but also as friends; Karl had heard that Mrs. Barrett never
approved of John's choice, but he had grown used to that and simply
tried not to worry about his tenure. Worrying was most of the game in
the retail trade -- worry about being overstocked, about being under-
stocked, about the competition undercutting you, about the competition
getting more for the same merchandise. Worry, worry, worry ... he
needed another worry like an extra leg! Kate Barrett was the boss here
now and Karl accepted it as something he could do nothing to change.

There was a buzz from the desk outside, and a couple of words passed
through the communications system from the store's general manager, and
when the door opened once again there was a uniformed man standing
there looking for all the world like a policeman. Kate nearly gasped
with astonishment but she stifled it in time; was this man an employee
of Barrett's? What was this uniform?

"Kate, I'd like you to meet Allen Biggs, our head of security. Allen,
Mrs. Barrett." There was a flurry of exchanged greetings and then
everyone settled into comfortable armchairs around the manager's
rosewood desk. "Suppose you tell Allen what you told me, Kate. If
there's anything he doesn't know about security, it hasn't been
invented yet! He's cut our shoplifting and burglary in half since he
signed on with us."

"Oh, how wonderful," Kate said somewhat lamely. "I didn't even know we
had a crime problem at Barrett's. I never recall John mentioning
anything about that in the past. Maybe a couple of shoplifters now and
then, but nothing the floorwalkers couldn't handle."

"That was in the good old days, Kate, back before there were so many
hoodlums about. You simply wouldn't believe the problems we've had! But
I won't bore you with all that; tell Allen what your own problem is and
he'll tell you how to go about solving it. I have absolute faith in
Allen here when it comes to security!"

Kate told the whole story about the break-in, how she lived alone in a
big rambling house with her daughter, and then," ... And naturally, I
figured some kind of burglar alarm system would be the answer. You
know, one of those fancy electronic deals that picks up any movement
where it shouldn't be and notifies the police or whatever. But you tell
me, Mr. Biggs, you're the expert."

Allen Biggs ran his fingers through his rapidly-thinning hair and shook
his head. "No offense, ma'am, but I think a burglar alarm system is a
waste of good money. They're all right maybe for a big empty warehouse,
some kind of confined space where you know definitely when and where
there is to be authorized movement, but not for a house. There are just
too many things to go wrong ... and besides, most of the burglars know
more about beating the systems than we know about installing them!

"Then what do you suggest I do? Build a wall with an electric fence on
top?"

"No, Mrs. Barrett, that might be a little hasty just yet; wait until
the crime really gets bad before you send out for the masons. But
seriously, I do think there is a practical solution, particularly
practical because of your close relationship with the store."

"Goodness, tell me," Kate smiled. "You've really got my interest up
now!"

"I suggest you get a trained guard dog."

"A dog?! What on earth would I do with a dog? I know absolutely nothing
about taking care of one of those beasts. And anyway, I'd probably be
more afraid of him than a burglar! John ... my late husband ... never
cared much for animals so we never had one around the house. Oh, I
don't know, it just doesn't sound like the solution for me."

"Well, you're the boss, Mrs. Barrett, but could I make one suggestion
before you make up your mind completely?"

"What's that?"

"How about coming downstairs with me and taking a look at the dog I
have in mind for you; he's something really special."

Kate Barrett was confused. "A dog here? When did Barrett's start
selling pets, Karl?"

Allen answered for his superior. "He's not for sale, ma'am, at least
not to the public. He's one of our four nighttime patrol dogs,
especially trained to look for trespassers lurking about the store or
the warehouse out back. This one's a bit unusual, because he seems to
like people so much. Don't get me wrong, he can be vicious when he's