"Go Down Payments" - читать интересную книгу автора (Starr Danny)

Chapter 4

The picture at the Rialto was an X-rated job, but because she gave the girl at the box office Walter's name, twelve-year-old Eva was permitted inside, provided she sat off to the side where no one would notice her. Still a little girl in every way, Eva was fascinated by what she saw on the screen, especially the close-ups of cocks slowly entering cunts. She also noticed how eagerly the girls in the picture sucked on penises, and her own vocabulary was enhanced considerably as she learned a half dozen different names for penis, vagina, and breasts.

Gee, she thought to herself as she sat through the picture a second time, is this what Cousin Walter had in mind for Marge and herself? From what her mother had told her, it seemed exactly what Walter was planning to do.

The first time she watched the movie, she was terrified of the huge penises, picturing them being forced into her own orifices. But watching the way the girls were enjoying it all, she soon came to understand how much fun it might be. During the second watching of the picture, she put herself in place of each girl being fucked, and she was abruptly surprised to feel the hot, viscous liquid oozing from her clenched pussylips.

When she returned to the apartment, her mother was already there. All the bedroom doors were wide open, and she could see Marge resting in the bedroom they shared. From her mother's attitude, it was plain Florrie was still unaware Walter and Marge had been alone together. Eva had no intention of enlightening her mother. The woman had enough worries at the present time.

Going into the bedroom she shared with Marge, she sat on the blonde girl's bed. She saw her sister open her eyes, and smile.

"Hey, what happened?" Eva asked, her little girl-eyes wide with curiosity.

In a low voice, Marge told Eva everything, starting with the fear, and building into the rapture and delight.

"Well, gee," Eva whispered when Marge had finished, "it's not nearly as bad as mom made it out to be."

"Still, I think we'd better start looking around and seeing what we can do to break loose, in case Cousin Walter decides to get really mean. Believe me, he can be real nasty."

"I believe you," Eva nodded.

The two girls got up and went into Walter's bedroom. He had gone out after having finished with Marge, which was one of the reasons why Florrie had no inkling of what had happened. They began looking through his drawers and closets. But all they could find was an address book, and the only address in it was a few blocks away. The two girls decided to see who or what was at said address.

Walter returned to the apartment just as the two girls and their mother were ready to sit down for supper. He ate heartily, and so did both girls. Fortunately for Marge, Eva ate almost as much as she of the beef stew their mother put on the table. It kept Florrie from suspecting her blonde daughter's prodigious appetite stemmed, in part, from the experiences she'd had, and so Florrie remained unknowing as far as what happened between Marge and Walter.

"You really know how to cook, Florrie," Walter complimented. "This is better than that restaurant food I always have to eat."

"Walter, I'd like to talk to you after supper," Florrie said.

"Not tonight, cuz I have to work. Don't wait up for me. I'll be back late, and I'll want to hit the hay the moment I return."

Thank God, Florrie thought.

Another night would pass without his getting physical, or so she thought. And the reason she thought he hadn't touched her girls was, she believed him to be a totally callous person. If he had touched her daughters she'd figured him to be bragging about it allover the apartment. Either that, or her girls would come and tell her. Since Walter wasn't bragging, and neither girl looked particularly unhappy, Florrie sincerely thought neither of her girls had been touched.

With supper over, Walter left. Marge noticed he never bothered to look at her, and wondered if he was trying to keep her mother from guessing what had happened, or if he no longer gave a damn now that their session was over.

"Come on," Eva said to her. "Let's check out that address."

The girls waited until their mother took a large bundle of laundry down to the basement washroom, and then put on light jackets, and left. They took the elevator to the main floor, walked out the front entrance, nodded to the doorman who was fast getting to know them, then began walking across town.

Just a few blocks separated the truly wealthy area of town from the lower middle class section. This latter area was not a slum, but it would be within ten years. The address was in the middle of a block of closed shops, It was also a shop, and it, too, was closed. It was a dry-cleaning store.

There was an alleyway next to the store, and the two girls walked through, careful to avoid stepping on broken bottles or bumping into trash cans. It was getting dark out, and they could just about see where they were going. The alley made a ninety degree turn to the right, behind the store, and continued past the next building, where it turned right again and came back out onto the street. But while the two girls were behind the store, a light went on in the store's back room. They could barely see the light because the small window through which it was coming had a black shade over it. The shade was about two inches up from the bottom. The girls quietly tiptoed over to the window, knelt down, and peered under the shade. They saw Cousin Walter sitting at a desk. He was talking to four large men, all of whom looked as if they'd had their faces punched in at one time or another.

"You guys get your asses over to Elliot Bessel's house," Walter told them. "He lives on College Street, number four-seven-six. He's short, skinny, with a bushy mustache, and he has the funny idea that because he's an artist he doesn't have to pay back money he borrows. Go easy on him, this time. I want him in shape to pay back. And tell him the interest goes up in his case. As of tonight, he pays eight for five instead of seven for five."

"Anyone else?" one of the big hulks asked.

"Maybe later," Walter told them. "Check back here when you're finished with Bessel. I have some calls to make."

Without waiting to hear anything else, the two girls hurried from the alleyway. They managed to be three blocks away before Walter's goons left the cleaning store.

"Wow!" Eva whispered. "That's Cousin Walter's place of business. I wonder if the police know he operates from there."

"Of course not," Marge told her. "Haven't you seen enough police shows on TV by now to know the police always close up loan shark shops."

"Golly, we could get mom out of this by calling the police and telling them," Eva reasoned.

"And then we'd be right back out on the street, or in another dirty apartment. Don't you like living with Cousin Walter?"

"Well sure, but isn't his price for living with him kinda high?"

"I'll pay it every day of the week," Marge told her sister, "Golly, it was wonderful, it was really wonderful."

"Yeah but I saw some things in that movie I went to, and they looked kind of painful. I mean, I saw the men using whips and chains on the girls before they… well,… you know…"

"Cousin Walter isn't a pain freak," Marge said. "He just gets a little angry when things don't go his way."

"Hey, what about that Elliot Bessel. Do you think we should warn him?" Eva asked.

"Well, I suppose it'd be the right thing to do. But we'll have to do it by phone. We could never get to his place before those four guys."

The two girls hurried back to Walter's apartment, and there, looking in the phone book, they found Elliot Bessel's number.

"Good thing he isn't unlisted," Marge said, dialing the phone.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. The voice on the other end was almost harsh when it said, "Hello!"

"Mr. Bessel," Marge whispered, trying to make her voice sound more adult. "Four men are coming over there to beat you up. You better get away, fast."

"Who is this?" Bessel asked, and Marge could detect a hint of some kind of accent.

"Never mind," Marge told him. "Run!"

She hung up, saying, "Gee. We can't do more than that."

"Hey, if Cousin Walter starts getting tough with mom, we'd better call the police and let them know where he works," Eva said.

"I'm for that," Marge nodded, "but only if he gets tough. In the meantime, I want to enjoy everything he has to offer."

"Gee," Eva said. "I feel like I'm in some kinda movie, or something. It's kinda like cops and robbers and you're sort of like the mystery lady who's helping the hero out."

"Mr. Bessel? You think he's some kind of hero?" Marge asked.

"Gee, in the movies he would be."

"But this isn't the movies."

"Still," Eva asked, "don't you kinda want to meet him and see what he looks like?"

"Of course not," Marge told her sister. But deep down a seed had been planted. She was starting to think of Elliot Bessel.