The Lisa Series by Charles Arnold Page B

quick fuck. Now, you know what Frank would say about that.”
    “Yes, but...” Lisa was almost in tears.
    “Don’t give me none of that ‘yes...but’ shit. Get your white ass over here and get this fuckin tape going.” He started to move toward her. I stepped in front of him. Before I knew what happened, he had a razor in his hand and had cut the buttons off my jacket. He held the bright razor up to my eyes. “Don’t pay to get funny with Mister Dooley less you want to carry your balls home in one pocket and your prick in the other.” His eyes were narrow slits, but his voice was as calm and as even as it had been since he arrived. He looked at Lisa and motioned toward the recorder. She quickly switched it on. “That’s right, now just for the record, suppose you tell Mister Dooley if that busboy from the restaurant fucked you.”
    “No,” Lisa said almost in a whisper.
    “Speak up, dammit.”
    “No, he didn’t…”
    “Well, what he do?”
    “He...he came before he could...”
    “Where he come?”
    “In his hand...on me...I just took a shower to...”
    “Well, old Frank was right. He almost never wrong.” He studied Lisa for a moment. “Cept you sure don’t look like no fox. You look like a girl, like a little, sweet, virgin girl.” Lisa stared at the floor. “Frank says you his cocksucker. That right?”
    Lisa glanced at the recorder. “Yes,” she said.
    “He says you love to get down on your knees and do him good?”
    “Yes,” she looked away from Dooley. “Yes, I do.”
    “He says he comes in your mouth. That true?”
    “Yes, he does.”
    “And you like it?”
    “Yes, I like it.”
    “Well, I would have never took you for Frank’s hot little fox.” He pointed to the plastic bag. “A dress and shoes in there. Frank says to put them on. Nothin else. And fix up your face so you don’t look like no honky virgin.” Lisa picked up the bag and closed the bathroom door behind her.
    Dooley turned to me. “You her husband, named Billy?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Shit...some husband. Hand me that bottle.” I gave him the champagne. He sat in the corner and drank while we waited in silence.
    When the door opened and Lisa stepped into the room, Dooley sat up. She wore a red silk slip and red heels. The slip was cut low and held up by thin strands over her shoulders. Her breasts moved freely under the shiny material, which molded her ass and ended above her knees. Although the make-up had dramatically changed Lisa’s face, she didn’t appear much older.
    “Ahhh,” Dooley sighed, “we got us a real woman now. But do she know what a cock feel like?”
    “Yes,” Lisa said.
    “Feel good?”
    “Yes.”
    “Whose cock feel best?’
    She glanced at the recorder, “Frank’s.”
    “He make you come?’
    “Yes. He makes me come a lot.”
    “When the last time you come?”
    “A week ago.”
    “Billy here ain’t touch you? You ain’t touch yourself?”
    “No, Frank said not to.”
    “You always do what Frank say?”
    “Yes, always.”
    “Well, let me explain what Frank say for you to do now.” He looked at the recorder. There was still half a reel of unused tape. Lisa sat on the edge of the bed pulling the short slip down to cover as much of her legs as possible. Dooley waited. “Before we start, suppose you jus hike up that dress and spread. Mister Dooley likes to look at young white pussy.”
    Lisa pushed the slip up over her thighs, and moved forward to the edge of the bed. She hesitated. “Do it,” Dooley said quietly. She spread her knees. “That’s better.” He sat back and stared at her for a few minutes. She looked down at her hands, which were folded across her stomach.
    “Here’s Frank’s surprise,” he began. “You got two choices. Frank is partying with a bunch of guys at Ryan’s.” I saw Lisa’s hands clench into tight fists. “I can take you to your main man there at Ryan’s bar.” He paused. Lisa did not look up. “Or I can take you to see the