At that time he did not think about her words; he was justreacting. But hewould remember and wonder. If she were the daughter of old Don delOsorojo, thesheltered daughter of the weird old grandee, she had a surprisingvocabulary. But then, during a century and a half of hanging around live people, she could be expected to pick up words she might not have heard before death. But whyhadn't she learned English in that time?
Now, he did not think of what she was saying. He was taking along timecoming, so long that he was able to turn her over, or around. Her arms were then braced below her, her feet against the wall, her cunt rammed againsthim, andshe pushed back and forth while he reached down and rubbed herbreasts and nipples with his hands. She had strong muscles; she could remain inthat human-arch position, her head hanging down, and rock back and forthand occasionally stab her ass forward with no support of his hands underher hips.
After what seemed a long time, he jetted. Dolores screamed withthe crescendo of climaxes. Then she let her feet slide down the wall while he helpedease her weight with his hands on her buttocks and then clamped herlegs betweenhis arms and let her slide on down. On the floor, she lay on herback, pantingand looking up while spermatic fluid fell drop by drop into her openmouth. Then she scooted a little to one side to let the drops fall on her breastsand rubbed the sticky stuff over them. The chlorox odor of the fluid and theodor of sweat were strong in the chamber.
When her breathing became normal, Dolores rose and gave him along tongueyspermaticky kiss. Her hand fondled his testicles.
He turned his head away and said, "No more, Dolores. Or whoeveror whatever you are."
His legs trembled. Fucking in bed was demanding enough, butfucking standingup took twice as much out of him. And it seemed to him that Doloreshad means for draining him of more than the normal quota of energy. For a fewseconds, shehad given him energy--he would swear that she had discharged acurrent down his penis--but then the orgasms had been so exquisite that they hadopened gates todrain the reservoir.
He had no objective reason for thinking so, but he felt that shehad robbed him of a certain amount of vital energy and strengthened andsolidified herself. Certainly, she had seemed flesh enough when he had felt her. But now, she seemed to have somehow become even more solid.
Dolores, seeing him shake so, said something, smiled, and heldher finger upas if to tell him to wait there. (What the hell else could he do?) And she left the room. In a few seconds, she was back with a bottle of red wineand a bigchunk of filet mignon. (Did she have secret access to the kitchen?) He said no to the wine but eagerly ate the meat. Although he had finished supperonly ahalf-hour ago, or so it seemed, he was very hungry.
Dolores tilted the bottle to her lips and drank. Almost, heexpected to seea dark column going down the throat and into the stomach, as if she were a transparent figure in a stomach-acid commercial. But he could seeonly theAdam's apple moving.
If he was hungry, she was thirsty. She kept the bottle to herlips until itwas half empty. She may have intended to fully empty it, but a noisecame through the door, which she had left ajar. Dolores jerked and droppedthe bottle. It fell on its side and spurted red wine on the straw.
She bent down and scooped up all her clothes, rolled them into abundle, which she placed under her right arm, and then kissed him swiftly, breathingwine and sperm. She ran to the wall on his right; her left handpushed along thejuncture of two gray blocks. With a groan and a squeak, a section ofwall, consisting of blocks six high and four wide, swung inward on the leftside. The interior was dark. Dolores turned and smiled and threw something thatglittered. He lunged for it, but the chain jerked him back, cutting off hisbreath, and theobject bounced off his fingertips and fell on the straw.
It was the key to the lock on the metal collar.
The darkness swallowed Dolores. The section, squeaking andgroaning again, swung shut.
A huge head with huge jowls, large purplish eyes, and a high- piledblue-black hairdo, came around the corner of the doorway. Mrs. Grasatchow.
From behind her came excited voices. The fat woman's eyeswidened. She pushed the door open and waddled across the straw to Childe. Heslowly drew backthe foot he had extended to try to move the key toward him.
Mrs. Grasatchow sniffed loudly and then screamed, "Jism!" Shegrunted like asow about to give birth. "Who's been here? Who? Tell me! Who?"
"Didn't you see her?" Childe said. "She went down the hall!" "Who?" "Dolores del Osorojo!" Mrs. Grasatchow's, skin was naturally pale and made even whiter
by her powder. But she managed to turn more white.
The baron, a long cigar in one hand, entered the room. He said, "I thoughtit would be Dolores. Only she..."
The fat woman whirled swiftly, as graceful as a rhinoceros, whichis hugebut can be very graceful in certain movements.
"You said...you pooh-poohed Dolores! You said she couldn't be anydanger tous!"
The baron looked shrewdly at Childe before answering. He puffedon his cigarand said, "It didn't seem likely that she would ever get enough plasmlongenough to harden it. But I was wrong."
"What did she do to Magda?" Mrs. Grasatchow said. The baron shrugged. "We'll have to ask Magda that when she comes
to. If she does."
The doorway was filled with the body of Glam. He carried Magda, still naked, in his arms. Her head lolled, her long blonde hair hung down, herarms and legswere limp.
Glam said, "What do I do with her?"
"Take her upstairs to her room. Put her to bed. Tell Vivienne tolook at her."
Glam's expression flickered from stone-mask to somethingunreadable and back to stone-mask. The baron said, "She's defenseless now, true. But if I were you, I wouldn't try anything."
Glam said nothing. He turned and carried the woman off. The twoblond youths, Chornkin and Krautschner, looked in, each from a side of thedoorway.
"Did you see Dolores?" the baron said.
They shook their heads. The baron glanced at the section of wallwhich had opened for Dolores. He opened his mouth as if he were going to tellthe youthswhere she had gone and to send them after her. But he closed hislips.
Childe thought that perhaps the baron preferred to keep certainsecrets. Didn't he trust the two? Or did he think it would be futile to chase after her? In any event, he must think that Childe had seen the exit.
"She has to be flesh enough to fuck," Mrs. Grasatchow said. "Lookat the redness of his cock and the jism."
"I can see," the baron said dryly. "Magda's key was gone. Childe, do youhave it?"
Childe shook his head. Igescu went to the two youths and theywhispered fora moment. Then the youths turned their backs to each other and wentoff down the hall, bent over, searching. The baron came back in and said, "Takeyour eyes offhis cock, and help me look for that key."
"Here it is!" Mrs. Grasatchow said.
She stooped, picked it up, and straightened, groaning. The barontook it and put it in his jacket pocket.
Childe tightened his lips. He had no chance now, unless Dolorescame back to help him. He doubted that she would. Although she bad thrown the keyto him, shehad not made sure he had had it, and she had had time to do so. Thegesture hadseemed to say that he could escape if he were agile enough and cleverenough. Perhaps, she was resentful of her long, long frustrating imprisonmentin incorporeality. She might have wanted him to suffer, too. After all, she had taken him, not because of affection or love but because she needed anobject torelieve herself on.
But she was partly on his side. That was his only hope, atpresent.