compete with Rhea’s record was now stillborn. I knew I hadn’t the guts to make a second attempt, sure that it would lead to my arrest. I was a hopeless, useless, fumbling amateur! I had been lucky with the fat attendant. He had known as soon as he saw the gun that it was a toy, and he had dismissed me with the contempt I deserved.
My mind switched to Rhea. My body ached for her. I was past telling myself I was crazy, that the evil and the viciousness in her could destroy me. There was her siren’s song hammering in my mind, and it was irresistible.
I remembered what she had said: When you have me it ‘ll cost you more than a meal. I remembered how she had looked, standing there, her green eyes full of sexual promises, her body slightly arched towards me, her sensual smile.
And now I didn’t give a damn what it would cost me! Gone was my arrogant confidence that I would have her for nothing. I had to have her! I had to have her even on her own terms! What would she want?
Jenny had written in her report that this woman had been a prostitute. Suppose I offered her two hundred dollars? That was a hell of a price to pay a whore. She wouldn’t refuse two hundred dollars! Maybe once I had taken her, I would get her out of my system.
I began to relax, although my head still ached. Impatiently, I got out of bed, threw eight Aspro tablets into my mouth and washed them down. I got back to bed and waited for the pills to work. Money bought anything, I told myself, providing you had enough money. I would buy her! She has this obsession about getting rich, Jenny had said. Rhea, I told myself, would jump at two hundred dollars. I didn’t care now that I was buying her. My overpowering lust that was tormenting me demanded the sight of her naked, on a bed. Then once I had taken her, once this lust was satisfied, I would return to Paradise City and forget her.
Still thinking, I finally fell asleep.
* * *
The following morning, feeling much more confident, I went to the local bank and cashed five one-hundred dollar Traveller’s cheques. Just to be on the safe side, I told myself. I would offer her two hundred and go to five if I had to, but I was sure she would grab the two hundred.
I returned to where I had parked the Buick, started the motor, then as I was about to engage gear, I remembered her brother. Would he be there? Would he be hanging around that sordid little bungalow?
My fingers tightened on the driving wheel. I couldn’t make my offer if he were in the bungalow.
This was a problem and a wave of sick frustration ran through me. I turned off the ignition, got out of the car and started down the street. It was too early. The City Hall clock was striking ten o’clock. I had to contain my impatience. I would have to wait until at least midday and even then, I couldn’t be sure the brother would be away at work. I walked aimlessly, not seeing anyone, Rhea burning a hole in my mind. I wandered around like that until the City Hall clock struck eleven. By then I was fit to climb a tree. I went into a bar and called for a double Scotch on the rocks.
The drink steadied me a little. I lit a cigarette and just as I was going to call for another drink, I saw Fel Morgan across the street, getting out of a dusty 1960 Buick.
I hurriedly paid for my drink and went quickly to the bar entrance. Fel was already walking away, his hands in his jeans pockets: a tight, dirty white Tee shirt outlining his powerful muscles.
I went after him, following him to a scrap metal yard. I paused to watch him enter and wave to a fat man in overalls who was struggling with a vast lump of rusty metal.
With my heart hammering and my breath coming in gasps, I spun round and raced back along the street to where I had parked my car. I sent it shooting towards Highway 3.
Twenty minutes later I was bumping up the dirt road that led to the Morgan’s bungalow.
I kept muttering to myself: ‘Please God, let her be in!’
As I pulled up
My mind switched to Rhea. My body ached for her. I was past telling myself I was crazy, that the evil and the viciousness in her could destroy me. There was her siren’s song hammering in my mind, and it was irresistible.
I remembered what she had said: When you have me it ‘ll cost you more than a meal. I remembered how she had looked, standing there, her green eyes full of sexual promises, her body slightly arched towards me, her sensual smile.
And now I didn’t give a damn what it would cost me! Gone was my arrogant confidence that I would have her for nothing. I had to have her! I had to have her even on her own terms! What would she want?
Jenny had written in her report that this woman had been a prostitute. Suppose I offered her two hundred dollars? That was a hell of a price to pay a whore. She wouldn’t refuse two hundred dollars! Maybe once I had taken her, I would get her out of my system.
I began to relax, although my head still ached. Impatiently, I got out of bed, threw eight Aspro tablets into my mouth and washed them down. I got back to bed and waited for the pills to work. Money bought anything, I told myself, providing you had enough money. I would buy her! She has this obsession about getting rich, Jenny had said. Rhea, I told myself, would jump at two hundred dollars. I didn’t care now that I was buying her. My overpowering lust that was tormenting me demanded the sight of her naked, on a bed. Then once I had taken her, once this lust was satisfied, I would return to Paradise City and forget her.
Still thinking, I finally fell asleep.
* * *
The following morning, feeling much more confident, I went to the local bank and cashed five one-hundred dollar Traveller’s cheques. Just to be on the safe side, I told myself. I would offer her two hundred and go to five if I had to, but I was sure she would grab the two hundred.
I returned to where I had parked the Buick, started the motor, then as I was about to engage gear, I remembered her brother. Would he be there? Would he be hanging around that sordid little bungalow?
My fingers tightened on the driving wheel. I couldn’t make my offer if he were in the bungalow.
This was a problem and a wave of sick frustration ran through me. I turned off the ignition, got out of the car and started down the street. It was too early. The City Hall clock was striking ten o’clock. I had to contain my impatience. I would have to wait until at least midday and even then, I couldn’t be sure the brother would be away at work. I walked aimlessly, not seeing anyone, Rhea burning a hole in my mind. I wandered around like that until the City Hall clock struck eleven. By then I was fit to climb a tree. I went into a bar and called for a double Scotch on the rocks.
The drink steadied me a little. I lit a cigarette and just as I was going to call for another drink, I saw Fel Morgan across the street, getting out of a dusty 1960 Buick.
I hurriedly paid for my drink and went quickly to the bar entrance. Fel was already walking away, his hands in his jeans pockets: a tight, dirty white Tee shirt outlining his powerful muscles.
I went after him, following him to a scrap metal yard. I paused to watch him enter and wave to a fat man in overalls who was struggling with a vast lump of rusty metal.
With my heart hammering and my breath coming in gasps, I spun round and raced back along the street to where I had parked my car. I sent it shooting towards Highway 3.
Twenty minutes later I was bumping up the dirt road that led to the Morgan’s bungalow.
I kept muttering to myself: ‘Please God, let her be in!’
As I pulled up
Similar Books
