Chapter 11
The back of Zora's little bos was enclosed, with thick curtains all around. The floor was all one big mattress from the back of Zora's seat to the back door. Artie put her down, not gently, and climbed in the back with her. The drug was working now-the second dose, she was sure of it-and she couldn't even sit upright without help. As it turned out this was no big thing with Artie. He didn't want her to sit upright
"Hey, Zora," he said as he turned over Nan's unresisting body onto her side. "You're such a lousy driver I had to figure a new position out For gettin' blown, I mean." "You do it side-to-side," he said. He was trying to take Nan's dress off. The zipper was stuck; with a low curse he ripped it up the side. Then, the action having released some small urge to violence in him, he yanked the shreds off her body and tore each of them down all the way, throwing the remnants into a dark corner of the car.
"How's that?" Zora said. Something outside-must have scared her; she slammed on the brakes, then, just as hastily, hit the acceleration again. "Fuckin' son of a bitch," she said.
"I discovered it the night we drove those two fruits home. After Norton's party. I got bored so I banged the blond one-what the fuck was his name? Harley, Charley, somethin' tike that-in the back here. First off I tried puttin' him on hands and knees in front of me. It didn't work. You hit one of those potholes, he almost bit my dick off. I said no way, sweetie, we gotta figure somethin' else out. So I did this little number where I lie down on my side and I put the fag's head on my thigh, right?" He was suiting the action to the word with Nan. She tried to move her arms. It was like trying to hurry up a movement under water.
"Anyhow, here's his head on my lap and his body stickin' out at a sharp angle to me. And he can blow away all he wants, and it don't matter how dumb you are behind the wheel. He wasn't bad either." He told Nan brusquely, "Better open up, baby, daddy wants to paint you tonsils," She obeyed. It was all she could do to get her mouth open when she told it to, much less get any really complicated action going. She couldn't have resisted if she'd tried.
The car hit a terrific bump. Sure enough, it didn't jog Artie's thick cock, hard as a breadstick, out of Nan's lips. She wasn't much fun, though, it appeared. "Hey," he said. "Suck, God dammit."
"Mmmmmf," she said. She opened her mouth wide and tried to tell him she couldn't. She couldn't get coordinated enough to do anything, anything at all. It was very dark in the back of the van and she was having strange visions.
In the vision she was back on the bed in St. Tropez, fanny in the air, her front supported by hands and knees, getting her rear end reamed by one of them-what was the name? She couldn't remember any more; perhaps it didn't matter-and having the other one force that immense tube of his down her throat, one inch at a time. The difference was that it didn't hurt, back there. It only hurt when the front-end one, she couldn't remember his name either, started fucking her mouth hard, hard, battering her mouth and throat with hard lunges of his rock-hard buttocks. Or was that Artie instead? Which was the dream? The bed in St Tropez seemed more real, more brightly tit more colorful, so she concentrated on that
Anyhow, there she was, skewered at both ends tike a chicken on a rotisserie, and in her dream all the people she knew, all the people she'd ever known, were standing around her in a circle looking on, chatting, making comments. People said things like:
"Oh, look, he's got it all in, in Her ass, right up to the hair. Don't you suppose that hurts?"
"There, now. Now, you've got it, Frenchie, sock it to her. Fuck her up the chute, boy. God, I'd like a piece of that myself."
"Maybe they'll give her to you afterwards."
"How does she get all that dick in her throat like that?"
"It's an old parlor trick. She does it with mirrors."
"Nan, darling, would you suck me off like that? When you're done there?" (That was Ed. She wanted to say "Yes, Ed, please help me, m do anything, I love you, please help me;" but in the brightly lit dream she was as helpless to help herself, to resist, in any way as she was in the dark dream where the cruel man was raping her in the mouth in the back of a truck.)
"Nan, where are you? I cant see. I cant see, Nan." (That was Mary Alice. Nan could say nothing. She was helpless, helpless, helpless.)
And all the time, here she was, this ridiculous spectacle, on view like a sideshow freak, and people were doing these frightening and vile and humiliating things to her, and she could do nothing, nothing, to help herself. It was just too bad…
"This broad is the worst fuck in the mouth I ever had," Artie said. "What the goddamn hell did you give her another couple of the pills for? She was so freaked out she couldn't keep her eyes open already."
But of course that wasn't true. The only thing she could do was open her eyes. She just couldn't see anything out of them. Blind, blind, just like Mary Alice. In the meantime her hands and feet didn't seem to work, and this big thick thing kept battering her in the mouth. Her nose seemed to be running. It hurt a little, too. Maybe her nose was bleeding. If d serve him right if she got mess all over his mattress. If d serve him right…
She got what seemed to be some sort of second wind when they took her, naked and shivering, out of the car to walk her to the beach house. They got her legs to working a little, although they buckled a couple of times and simply refused to hold her weight It'd be all right Zora said. She'd seen a lot of people through a trip tike this. She'd get over it "Artie," she said over Nan's head, "give her your sweater, she's cold. Jesus, I'm cold myself. The fog's in nice and heavy tonight"
"Aw, balls. Nobody's gonna see her. Buck nekkid people go by here all the time."
"She's cold, Artie."
"Christ we're almost there."
She stubbed her toe once and it hurt and hurt but nobody would let her stop. By and by, though, they came to a door and after Artie fumbled with some keys and Zora swore bitterly at him they all went inside, and it was better in there.
I'll make a fire. I still got some of that wood we brought down from Topanga."
"Okay. Coffee?"
"Yeah. You're right if s cold."
"Lemme put something over her first"
"Okay, you don't want her to get a cold in her cunt and go blaming it on us."
"Oh, look, you bloodied her nose."
That was you and your stinking driving."
"I thought you had the perfect foolproof position."
"Go make the goddamn coffee."
"What the fuck do you mean go swimming?" "I feel yummy. I want to go soak it in the ocean." The sun ain't even up yet."
"Sure it is. Look, I'll pull the curtain."
"Christ. Close that thing."
"See? I want to go take a dip. It's dawn."
"So go soak your ass. I wanta sleep."
"You always wanta sleep. You faggot"
"Stop callin' me that"
"Faggot, faggot, faggot"
"Whatta you gonna do with her?"
"You mind her."
"I'm goin' to sleep."
"Damn you." The woman came over to Nan, who was sitting up, naked, on the bed where they'd left her. They'd done a lot of things with her and to her and some of them had been fun and some of them had hurt She was all right now, though. "Annie," the woman said. Nan couldn't remember her name. "Annie, you want to go take a run with me on the beach? You don't have to go in the water. Just come run with me. It's fun."
"Yes," Nan said, "it's fun."
The woman put a tight little robe over her; she was going out naked herself, she said, it was good for the skin. "Here, you hold the towel for me." And the woman helped her out the door to the deck and down on the sand. It felt good between her toes. The morning tight was very, very dim through the fog, but it was light ah right
"Come run, Annie."
Nan followed her, watching the girl's round bottom wiggle as she ran. After a nice long run of it the girl dived into the surf with a squeak Nan kept running.
She might have kept on running, for miles and miles and miles, if she hadn't got her feet all tangled up in the robe and fallen down. Once she'd fallen down it wasn't so easy to get up. Her head was swimming. She saw the wet girl come running up, mad as blazes.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" she said.
Nan didn't answer. She didn't even know where she was.
"Can she feed herself?"
"How the hell do I know? Ask her."
"When I ask her she don't say nothing."
"Maybe I ought to help her or something. Here, III swap you. You hang the decorations, I'll feed the baby."
"Where are the costumes."
"Yours is in the closet, next to your jumpsuit I still got to do some sewing on mine."
"What about her?"
The woman giggled. "She's wearing it…less a few little frills."