He screamed long and horribly as the cold steel rammed into his belly. In his throes of agony, he reared up off of Alex and plunged backward atop Antonio. He clawed at his soft belly until the knife pulled out.
And then he knelt, staring stupidly as a bright red fountain of blood poured from his belly over Antonio's body. He wailed, like a hurt child, tears streaming from his eyes.
Alex wanted to shut the sound out the sound but he couldn't. He watched as the big man swayed and keened his death song before slowly folding up and falling across Antonio.
Alex crept close. The big man's eyes stared in abject terror, unseeingly.
There was no movement from Antonio either. Gingerly, Alex felt for a pulse beat, but there was none.
As distasteful as it seemed, Alex had to take the knife and press it into the little man's hands and bend the still-warm fingers around the blood-smeared handle.
He did the same with the rock, pressing it into the big man's hand, then letting it drop free and roll a few inches away, leaving its track in the blood-soaked ground.
Alex groaned and stood. He had been stabbed. But how bad he couldn't tell. At least he was still able to walk.
Dragging his feet, he turned away from the two bodies and headed for his hotel room and the chance to pull himself together.
The few blocks seemed like miles. He was gasping with pain as he reached the door to the lobby. Taking a deep breath, he shoved his way inside and stumbled across the lobby, doing his best to look like an ordinary drunk coming home.
Leaning on the counter to get his key, he almost fainted. It was fortunate that the desk clerk didn't give him more than a casual glance and mumbled "Mr. Benson," before handing him his key. The clerk went back to perusing his copy of "Playboy".
Alex stepped away from the counter and froze in horror. A thin drip of blood speckled the top where he had leaned.
"Buenos noches," he said and wiped his sleeve across the edge of the counter.
"Buenos noches." The clerk didn't even raise his head. He had better things to do than look at drunken gringos. Just then he was busily spelling the English words to "Miss December" in the gatefold. His mouth watered over the photograph.
Alex, in the meanwhile limped to his room where he used his sliced open shirt as a bandage to hold in the blood. Not thinking clearly, he collapsed on the bathroom floor, falling into a shock induced sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fran paced the length of the tiny room half a dozen times after Manuel left. Clenching her fists tightly had left her knuckles a flat white color. She was chewing on her lip fiercely.
"Fran," Renee whispered. "Untie me."
The blonde girl paused in her pacing. "When's he coming back, Renee?" she asked tearfully.
"I don't know. Hurry and untie me and maybe we can get out of here."
Instead of complying, Fran sat down next to Renee and laid her head on the younger girl's soft breast. "Honey," she whispered, "I've got to have my shot or I'll go crazy."
"Fran! Let me loose and we'll get out of here and find some."
For a second Fran debated what Renee said. Her hand stretched out toward the cord that tied Renee's wrists, and then she pulled it back and said, "No!"
"You've got to!"
"No! And you can't make me, Renee." Gently, she fondled Renee's pert tit, watching the nipple sprout into full bloom only inches from her face. "You just want to get us back over there," she gestured in a manner that indicated "there" was over the border somewhere and a dirty word at the same time.
"Please, Fran!"
"You don't understand, Renee. I can't live without it anymore. How will I live over there? They won't let me have it."
"But I need it too, baby," Renee soothed. "I wouldn't do anything that would stop me from getting it too, would I now?"
"No. I guess not." Fran's cool fingers caught at the carmine nubbin of Renee's nipple and teased it into reaching for new heights. Renee giggled.
"Stop that," she said. "It tickles."
"Good!" Fran did it again. And then while Renee was still squirming, bent over a little farther and kissed her eloquent nipple.
Renee gasped, and all of a sudden her firm resolve was melting away. The anxiety she felt, the joy in the opportunity to escape were gone. All she felt was pure lust to have her body handled and hurt and satiated.
She arched against Fran's mouth.
"Do you still want me to stop, honey?"
"God, no!" Renee gasped out. "Keep doing it. Please keep doing it!"
Fran's hot lips descended on Renee's breasts again and the younger girl couldn't believe the intensity of feeling she was having. She'd never even looked at a woman with this in mind.
Fran's lips started to trace a path down Renee's belly. They stirred hotly through her hair. Then they were wet and slobbery on her burning pee hole.
"Oh!" she screamed. "Do it, Fran! Do it!"
But Fran wasn't about to be rushed. She was savoring the moment as much as Renee. Slowly, with painstaking care, she ran her tongue around the inside of the dark-haired girl's cunt lips.
The sensation sent Renee wild. It was so light and delicate, yet so rough and exciting. Renee squealed and heaved her ass in the air.
"Do it, Fran," she screamed. "Do it. Tongue fuck me, baby. I can't stand for you not to." She strained her legs further apart so the lips pouted out further than ever.
Then Fran glued her mouth to the sopping, sloppy cunt and buried her tongue in the hot meat.
It drove Renee crazy. Her body tried to get away from the probing, seeking tongue. But it couldn't, and Renee was so glad she could have died.
"Oh, baby! That's it!" she screamed as she felt her cream flowing and Fran's tongue lapping it up out of her tight hole. She forgot about the ache in her back, the strain on her trembling legs. She forgot how much she needed the heroin that Manuel held out to them as a bribe. In that one second she was free of everything except her own lust.
She was a kite blowing higher and higher in the wind. Her body was a flame.
Fran's tongue was a snake delving deeper and deeper into her until she couldn't stand any more of it.
She was arched against the ropes, Fran nuzzling her sloppy swat, when Manuel came back into the room. There were two men with him dressed in somber suits speaking Spanish in a strange accent Renee had never heard before.
They poked and prodded Renee's body and one of them stuck his finger in her slit and twisted it around starting her hips heaving, her mouth lolling open.
"Go on," Manuel said generously. "Try her out."
The taller of the two looked her smooth body over and licked his lips. Finally, he nodded. He unzipped his pants and stood between Renee's arched legs, holding his stump in his hand. It was thick and short, but making up more in width than it lost in length.
Renee watched, horrified, as he lined the huge thing up with her slit. "No," she protested weakly. "No!"
But none of the three men paid any attention to her.
The one with his prick standing stiffly in his hand rubbed it against her gapping vagina, spreading her cream over it before stepping back and literally running forward right into her, driving his peg home with one tremendous hammer blow.
For a moment, Renee wavered on the edge of unconsciousness, the pain was so intense. Then he was thumping into her and she was groaning as his misshapen prick spread her apart, tearing her open.
When he slammed into her, the fury of his attack jolted through Renee's whole body and battered her delicate lips. It hurt so much she wasn't sure whether she was happy or unhappy when he plunged into her for the last time with a rush that tore the muscles in her passage and bruised her flesh. She groaned and fainted as his hot flood filled her cup to the brim.