"But… but I owe him three thousand one hundred dollars," she wailed.
"You're joking," Ricky said, jerking back in mock amazement, the movement causing his gown to open all the way now, revealing a stubby little penis that could barely be seen below the rolls of fat hanging from his belly.
"No… I'm not," she sobbed.
"Oh, my, my, my! I would say that you are in very serious trouble indeed. I'm not even sure I can help you. I don't have that kind of money at hand."
"I don't want your money. Just call Andy and ask him for a delay."
Ricky stood, making no effort to pull his gown together. He stared down at her, then said softly, "Let me look at you, Mrs. Hope." He saw her frightened eyes flicker toward him, and grinned inwardly as he knew she had seen his prick. He made a great pretense of studying her face, as if judging her honesty. The thought of her ripe, red lips ovalled around his cock made his penis begin to crawl into life. She saw that, too; he could tell by the way she flushed and looked away. "All right," he said, finally. "I don't know what I can do, but I'll call Andy tomorrow and ask him…"
Grace interrupted frantically, "But you don't understand. He wants his money by six o'clock. Tonight!"
Ricky looked down at his watch. "But it's six o'clock now."
"I know," she wailed.
"I'll see what I can do," Ricky said, reaching over toward the phone at the end of the couch. Now the gown had slipped completely off his waist, and Grace knew he must be aware he was exposing himself. That faded into insignificance alongside the fact that he had just said he would try to help. She watched, unable to tear her eyes away from his fat stubby fingers as he dialed a number.
"Hello, Andy. How are you this evening?" He looked over toward Grace and she thought his eyes now had grown bolder; they locked themselves on her breasts, and she saw his prick swelling even more. "Well, Andy, it seems you have a slight collection problem with Mrs. Hope. I would like to ask you a favour, please. Call off your dogs, give her some time… Yes, yes, I know you gave her until six o'clock. Yes, she's here."
Grace saw Ricky's eyes seem to widen in alarm. "But, Andy, you can't. I won't let you while she is in my apartment. What? No, I don't think I can guarantee her loan. Or at least, I don't think I can. Look I'll call you back in twenty minutes. Promise me you won't let your thugs do anything rash before six twenty. Thank you, Andy."
Ricky slowly replaced the phone on its cradle. When he turned back to Grace, the message of doom was clearly written on his face. "I'm sorry, my dear. He wants me to guarantee your note. But you see, I'm a businessman and I don't invest in non-interest bearing propositions. Now it would be different, of course, if you and I could reach some sort of understanding. I might even be persuaded to pick up your bad checks."
Grace blanched. "You know about those, too?"
"I know practically everything. About you and Jim Meloney…" The last was a shrewd guess on Ricky's part; he had seen Grace in the winner's circle that night, and he knew Meloney's reputation. One look at the girl's face told him he had struck pay dirt. He continued, "There are no secrets between me and Jim. He said you were very good, indeed. A bit inexperienced… but delightfully fresh."
"Oh, God!" Her head was reeling. This new assault on her sensitivities was almost more than she could bear. It wasn't bad enough that Jim Meloney had taken advantage of her, but to brag about it. To tell everything that had happened. It did not occur to Grace that Ricky had, in reality, said nothing incriminating. In her terror-drugged mind she assumed from his remarks that the fat man really did know – and that Jim had been the one who told him. She felt betrayed, degraded, and she burst into tears of shame.
"Now… now, my dear," Ricky moved over, sat down beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder. "There's nothing to cry about. I think you'll find that I'm every bit as much a man as Jim Meloney. And, if you and I become friends, I'll agree to act as your protector."
"What… what you're suggesting is that… that I…" She could not finish the abhorrent thought.
Ricky pulled her resisting body closer to him, running his fat, stubby fingers up and down along the outside of her arm. "What I am suggesting is quite simple. You spend the evening with me and we get to know each other better. You and I will become very good friends, indeed."
Grace jumped up, unable to masque the revulsion his vile proposition had evoked within her. "Never. I'd rather die first."
Ricky's pleasant smile never left his face. He shrugged. "As you wish." He walked across the room and disappeared down the corridor. Grace stood up, her hand balled into a fist tightly against her mouth. She heard the outer door open, then Ricky's voice say, "Tell Andy I can't guarantee her loan. She's here. Take her, but remember no rough stuff in my apartment. I don't want blood stains all over the place."
The two burly men who had taken Grace to Andy's country place earlier in the day came into the room. They seemed to dwarf everything else – including Ricky. Grace screamed loudly, and continued screaming as the one with the smashed nose came to her. He raised his hand and viciously slapped her face. She fell, dazed, back onto the couch… sobbing. She felt her shoulders being roughly grasped and then suddenly she was yanked brutally to her feet. The movement caused her little shirtwaist dress to split open down the front, revealing her lime green bra and slip.
"Ricky… Mister Karl… please… please help me," she cried.
"I'm sorry, my dear." He turned away from her and went to his bar. She screamed again, even louder this time in an effort to attract attention.
Ricky looked at her over the top of his bar. "It will do you no good to yell. The place is completely soundproofed. And it will do you no good to call out for the police. The man holding you is a policeman in Andy's hire. Show her your badge." The man relinquished his hold on Grace's body and fished in his inside pocket. Flipping open his wallet, he showed the trembling girl his badge. She had no way of knowing it was just a special deputy's badge – handed out for political favours. To her it was the ultimate symbol of authority.
Now the second man, the wrestler, moved to the other side of Grace. Both took an arm and began dragging her out of the room.
Oh, God. No! The memory of that horrible picture of the other girl flashed in her mind. Anything… anything at all – even the filthy caresses of the unspeakable vile Ricky Karl would be better than to suffer that kind of fate.
The two men had pulled her roughly toward the door. Grace, feeling her last resistance crumbling, cried out, "Help me, Ricky. Help me. I'll do anything… anything you say… only help me."
At a nod from the fat man, the two henchmen loosened their hold on the girl's arms. She dropped to the floor in a heap, sobbing helplessly, and heard Ricky say, "Stick around. I may change my mind."
The two men left, closing the front door behind them. Ricky came over carrying a water tumbler half full of an amber liquid. "Drink this," he commanded.
Woodenly, Grace reached up and accepted the glass. She took a swallow and began choking as the whiskey burned a painful trail down her gullet. "Drink it all," he said and stood there until she drained it.
"Now get to your feet," he said.
Grace painfully stood and made a feeble effort to close the front of her ripped dress.
"Let's get something straight right now," Ricky said, and his voice indicated he would brook no further disobedience or reluctance on her part. "You are to do everything I say without complaint or protest. Is that understood?"
Grace closed her eyes in mortification. There was no telling what this horrible monster might want her to do. He might even want her to go to bed with him. Her mind reeled at the thought of permitting him to violate her body in that manner; and yet – with an instinctive sureness that sprang from a surprisingly deep sense of survival – she knew she would force herself to go to bed with him if necessary.