"The nurse_s hot itch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carver Mark)

CHAPTER ONE

"There are only two answers to your problem," Dr. Benson said solemnly. "Either you keep up your desperate search, or you learn to live with it. I strongly suggest you learn to live with it because…"

"No!" The girl across from him flushed with anger. "No," she said more calmly. She took a deep shaking breath so that her lush tits rose high beneath her blouse. "I've lived with it for two years and it's been pure hell. I'm entitled to a healthy sex life just like anyone else, dammit." Her lustrous dark eyes blazed on him with anger and fierce determination. "I'll do anything – give anything to be cured. Understand?"

Benson nodded, outwardly calm. But inside a hot excitement rippled in his blood, causing his long cock to pound eagerly in his pants. Silently, he studied the girl.

Her long shimmering black hair framed a soft, glowing face with wide eyes and full, sensuous lips. She wasn't beautiful, but pretty in a very sexy way, especially her ripe mouth. Just studying the contours of that lush mouth could give a man a fierce hard-on. It had all the promise of a wild, fantastic blowjob, causing Benson to squirm hotly in his seat.

But if her face missed being beautiful, her body sure as hell didn't. She had proud, luscious tits and fully-rounded hips and long, silken legs that she nervously crossed and re-crossed as she sat across his desk.

Benson was only thirty-five, young for a psychologist with such a big practice. Because his practice was in a small town, he knew the intimate details of a great many people's lives, but he'd never run across a problem even faintly like this one. And even though he lavished advice with a heavy hand on his patients, a lot of it sexual, he wasn't without his own problems. The hot-eyed girl smoking nervously in front of him, her eyes smoldering with deep sex-frustration, reminded him only too sharply of his own problem.

Outwardly he had everything, a thriving practice, a beautiful wife and two healthy kids, a prominent standing in the community. Inwardly, he was hopping up and down frantically with the most anxious hard-on in town. The girl he'd been lustfully screwing on the side for the past year, a ripe, passionate secretary who never got enough of anything, much less frenzied fucking, had just gotten married to a tractor salesman and moved out of town. With luck, she'd be faithful to him for a whole week.

Benson was now high and dry, stuck with his own wife, who was as bored as he was with the same old sex-grind. Her cunt, once so hot and tight and exciting, had become loose and uninspired. Her mouth had become dry and lifeless on his long prick, and she'd begun to complain loudly whenever he wanted to ravage her fat-cheeked ass. In turn, his huge rod had become mechanical and impatient in her limp pussy. Thirteen years of marriage and a good deal of screwing around on the side could do that. She was currently fucking a stockbroker and a plumber, Benson knew. You'd think the bitch could at least get some hot tips on the market or have the dripping bathroom faucet fixed free, he thought bitterly.

"Can you help me?" the girl pleaded. Her fingers shook as she stubbed out her cigarette. "Can you?"

"I can try, Carol," he said in his best gentle tone. "You say you've already been to a dozen psychiatrists and a number of specialists, and they failed. But I'll try, yes."

Her eyes bored into his, glowing. "Now? Right now?"

Benson's prick leaped eagerly in his pants. Desperate for a solution, the gorgeous nurse had already told him she'd be willing to trying anything. In fact, the reason she'd just moved to this obscure hick-town was because she'd been fired from her last three jobs in Los Angeles hospitals. For screwing almost every doctor, intern and healthy patient in sight.

"How about it?" Carol panted, licking her lips. "Well?"

The psychologist hesitated, his face flushed. Goddamnit, he'd long ago made it a stem rule never to screw around with his patients. Not out of ethical reasons – Benson was far too horny to be noble. It was his fear of a malpractice suit, and eagerly passionate women like Carol had stripped bank accounts and licenses from more than one unsuspecting doctor.

But she knew. She was a nurse. "You can trust me," she whispered fervently. "All I want is that one time. Just once. If it happens just once, I could at least die happy. Please?"

Now how in the hell could he refuse a patient in distress? The last of his hesitation crumbled when he saw the tears in her eyes. He stood up.

"Okay," he said hoarsely. He turned around and closed the venetian blinds on his office window. He watched her begin stripping as he pressed the button on his intercom.

"Miss Jenkins, I'll be another thirty minutes. The next patient can either cancel or wait."

"Yessir," the speaker crackled.

The young doctor sucked in his breath as she slipped off her bra. Her creamy tits sprang forth, their dusky nipples fat with desire. He began stripping himself, realizing she wasn't intent on a quickie. Not in her frenzied condition.

She slipped her panties off to reveal her thick dark fringe of cunt-hairs. Her inner thighs were satiny smooth, already moist with her eagerness. When he took off his drawers, she made a low moan of impatience, licking her lips. His huge rod was exciting her to the point where she was panting. Hell, she ought to know a good one when she saw one, Benson thought dryly. She'd seen and screwed enough of them in the past two years, ever since that bizarre…

There was a black chaise lounge in his office and Carol wasted no time in sitting on its edge, her luscious ass-cheeks squirming. Her shining eyes never left his long red prick as he approached her. A tiny drop of cream oozed from his knob.

"Do you want a blowjob first?" she asked eagerly.

"You're a mind-reader," Benson said hoarsely.

The moment he got within arm's reach Carol had grasped his throbbing cock in her fingers, pulling him close. He stood between her widespread thighs and the raven-haired nurse parted her ripe lips and snaked out her wet pink tongue, lapping up the drop of jism. Then with a deep groan she seized as much of his cock as she could get in her mouth and began sucking with slow, lascivious strokes.

"Oh Jesus, that's good," Benson gasped, cupping her head in his hands and swinging his hips in gentle fucking motions. "Oh, shit, that's wild, Carol! Mmmmm, mmmm! I'll get my – ah – rocks off too fast if you keep this – ungh! – uh, honey!"

Carol slowed down, nibbling gently on his hot meat for a couple of minutes. Her mind whirled with intense curiosity and her dripping cunt began its familiar torment. Would he be the one after all these insanely frustrating years? She'd sucked off so many men by now in so many different places she could only hope frantically. In the linen closets of hospitals, in empty operating rooms, on tables of deserted cafeterias at night, even in dark parking lots she'd whipped her mouth back and forth obscenely, drinking in theft molten jism in great gulps. She'd become a fantastic expert on cocksucking, not because she'd wanted to but because she had to…

"Oh, shit, WILD!" Benson gasped when she suddenly ripped her sharp teeth very gently along the pulsing surface of his big cock. Every time his prick hovered and swelled, ready to spurt its load, she slowed down deliberately. Now she'd slipped his rod out of her hot mouth completely and was lifting it in her fist so she could kiss and suck on his balls, sending sharp tingles of pleasure through his loins.

How many pricks have I sucked off like this, hoping he could be the one? Carol thought with a tinge of despair. She was firing her own lust in the act, until her juicy cunt was throbbing powerfully, aching for his boiling meat. But no. This was a necessary part of the process. She'd learned once they rammed into her tight, fiery pussy even the best of them were ready to shoot off in two or three minutes. She always blew them first to take the edge off their urgency, to prolong her own thrills – and the nightmare that always followed. Because if they came too quickly, any hope she had of finding the right one would be shattered.

And if Carol didn't find the right one soon, she'd be ready for a straightjacket. She would really go stark raving mad, her mind exploding with torment, her throbbing hot cunt a living nightmare, her sex-frustration so deep she would have to escape the world of reality.

"Ahhhh, Carol, you are – wow! – a fantastic cocksucker! Oh, lady, what a frantic mouth -Jesus, suck it, suck it!"

Want his hot come now, the panting nurse thought in a frenzy as she jerked his rod in her fist and sucked madly. She'd begun sucking cocks only as a prelude to long fucking sessions, but she'd learned to love it, to crave their boiling cream spurting down her gulping throat. She was getting fiercely hot now, resisting the futile urge to fingerfuck herself. She'd have his load out any second now, any… "Aaaah, here it – wow! – Comes, coming, Carol – hoooo, shit! Your loving mouth, mmmmm!"

Benson fucked her throat savagely as his loins exploded. She was draining his load out of him with electrifying power, sucking so hard he felt like roaring with obscene joy at the top of his lungs. He bit his lip to suppress his lustful excitement. Hell, he had an office full of patients out there, and what would Miss Jenkins, in her sixties and probably still a cherry, think of all this?

"Oh, Christ," he gasped when she'd drained the last drop, "what an incredible blowjob!" He was on the verge of tactlessly asking the lush nurse where she'd learned to thrill a man with all those fantastic tricks. He knew, all right. She'd told him her own blunt words.

She pulled her head back, releasing his limp rod. Her eyes burned on his as she licked her lips with relish. Still her warm fingers grasped his cock, stroking gently, coaxing it up again, her other hand softly squeezing his balls.

"That was… wonderful," Benson said, calming down now. He could feel sharp new tingles as he watched her swollen ripe tits pant. He reached down and hefted them in his fingers, comparing their hot silken firmness to his own wife's sagging tits. She was still beautiful but at that perilous age where she was beginning to sag just a little everywhere. And the older she got, the more action she'd need on the side. She already had two steady fucks, for Chrissake, and in another year or two she'd need three on the side, then soon after that possibly a whole battalion.

But if his wife could simply give him half the blowjob this gorgeous young creature thrilled him with, he'd forgive her even if she fucked everyone in town. It was, in fact, the best Benson had ever had, even surpassing the lust-crazed secretary whose feverish hunger was insatiable.

Still jerking his cock, which was getting rock-hard now, Carol lay back on the lounge and drew up her knees, exposing her wet pink cunt. It throbbed before his eyes, sucking hopefully, oozing her hot juices.

"All right," she whispered, her eyes blazing, "fuck me now. Fuck me as long and as hard as you can, Doctor. Fuck me until my pussy hurts and I'm crying for mercy, but for God's sake, give me what I need!"

Benson hesitated. "Are you sure you want this position, Carol? Whatever you like, of course, but maybe if we tried it dog-style or with you on top…"

She waved her hand impatiently. "Goddammit, Doctor, I've tried every position in existence and made up a few of my own! Now fuck me and quit talking!"

Remembering she was in agony, he hurried to mount her. She dug her heaving tits into his chest and for a minute simply teased her soaked cunt-lips with his giant knob, whimpers of passion coming from her lips.

"Oh, this feels like it might be the one," she panted, "this could be it, Doctor, oh God I hope so! I'd be so damn grateful I'd suck and fuck you every night for the rest of my life! Mmmmm, slip it in now, yes, yes, yes! All of it! Yessss, now fuck me fast and furious! Ooooh! Aaaah!"

The moment he plunged his rod into her juicy cunt Benson knew she was going to be the greatest lay of his life. Jesus, what a hot, tight pussy! It sucked and squirmed and wriggled obscenely on his meat, currents of power throbbing in her luscious walls, gripping his dick like a slippery velvet fist.

The moaning nurse sank her nails into his back and kissed him torridly on the mouth, slithering her hot tongue deep. This part of it she loved, pleasurable, dreamy sensations rippling up her hot cunt and deep into her loins, spreading outward tingles to every inch of her ripe, silken flesh.

"Oh shit, Carol, that's beautiful, honey, your pussy is so good! Wow,it's – mmmm! – oh yes, yes, work it, Carol!"

The feverish nurse didn't need any encouragement. She'd already locked her legs around his waist and was gyrating her ass hi wide circles, thrilling herself as well as him as his quivering prick rubbed into every nook of her pussy.

God, she loved to fuck! If she didn't she wouldn't be in this crazy predicament now, dammit. She couldn't even begin to count the times she'd swung her lush hips furiously and clasped her succulent slit on someone's cock over the past two years, praying desperately this was the precious one, the salvation she sought to the point of sheer madness.

"Can't believe it!" Benson gasped as she sent wild thrills tearing through his prick with her hotly sucking cunt. Christ, he had to hang on! He didn't dream a fuck like this existed, a luscious, shuddering, spine-tingling pussy that prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. She rubbed her creamy hot tits deliriously against his chest as she thrashed in perfect rhythm to his strokes, biting him on the lips now with tiny frenzied nips, raking her nails over his hard buttocks to spur him on.

And that was the problem: Benson didn't want to be aroused any more. He was doing all he could to keep from coming now, and he was sincerely trying to help her, knowing the passionate action was a fabulous bonus and nothing more.

But if he could cure her, oh Christ! She'd promised to screw him eternally, a thought that almost made the psychologist shoot his rocks off on the spat. And there were other side-benefits, like writing a paper on it for the forthcoming convention. Shit, her case was so rare and baffling he'd be famous if he somehow managed to solve it! Famous, with the greatest piece of ass he'd ever had profoundly grateful and always available.

"Love it, love hot cock!" Carol moaned feverishly, clamping her juicy cunt in a wanton spasm on his plunging prick. "Oh God it's good! Soooooo good! Every hot inch, nnnnngh!"

His hopes soaring wildly, Benson fucked her with savage thrusts of his throbbing meat as Carol turned into a frantic clawing animal. She swung her ripe ass in furious lunges now, lifting him easily off the lounge, feverish moans coming from her throat. She thrashed and jerked and sucked fiercely with her cunt.

And to his horror Benson knew he was going to come and he clenched his teeth, willing his Goddamn jism back into a tight knot in his loins, cursing his own eagerness. Too late! Too fucking… But Carol knew too the very instant when his prick swelled to a flaming rock-hardness in her shuddering pussy. And at once she darted her hand down and gripped the base of his cock close to his bush. She squeezed so hard he thought he'd faint. But it worked at once, an old trick that instantly desensitized his prick.

Perspiration covered her body in a sheen as the lust-inspired nurse writhed her drenched cunt on his big cock. Moaning deliriously, she fucked him to a desperate rhythm, raising her legs and digging her heels into his ass and swinging her hips in a frenzy.

"Love – nunnng! – to fuck!" she groaned in his ear.

"Love to fuck, but-but – oh!"

Even with her fierce grip on the base of his prick Benson feared he would come momentarily. Her juicy cunt sent vibrant ripples of excitement shooting in his meat and tingling in his loins. Now both their naked heaving bodies were soaked in lustful sweat and her frantic lips and teeth were biting him everywhere, on his lips and shoulder and chest while her nails ripped across his back and buttocks.

In spite of her squeezing thumb and forefinger on his rod, Benson felt his load beginning to boil up. Distraction! he remembered. To his male patients who came too quickly – and there were plenty of them who admitted to premature ejaculation after their wives dragged them in forcibly – the young psychologist advised them to concentrate on anything but the pussy whipping eagerly on their rod. Do simple arithmetic in their minds, he said, think of the pile of bills at home, the mortgage on the house, anything that would bring them down. Even the worst, most revolting piece of ass they'd ever had.

And trying to ignore the passionate silken flesh of the feverish nurse beneath him, Benson tried desperately to recall the worst pussy he'd ever had. Certainly not his wife, who was a wildcat when he'd first married her and wanted to do nothing but fuck, day and night. That was the innocence and passion of young love, he thought dryly. Then he remembered.

A rich bitch in his college days, good-looking actually. All she'd done was lie there like a lamb being slaughtered, her dry cunt like a bucket of sand. Later she was caught blowing a girl in the college dorm, and this, it turned out, was her secret love. She'd gone down on practically every girl in the dorm and propositioned half of them on the campus. But for some strange reason she still sullenly allowed men to screw her. Maybe she felt she was missing out on something, or did it to keep boys dating her. And this sparked an idea in Benson's mind, a possibility for Carol.

"Can't – ooof! – can't hold it back any more, Carol! GONNA COME, DAMMIT! PUSSY TOO HOT AND JUICY! GONNA SHOOT!"

"No!" she cried, shaking her head in panic. But he'd already begun spurting his hot jism deep into her silken cunt, bursting in great gushes of come. While it flooded her eager slit, Carol began to cry softly. He wasn't the one, dammit! After all these years of frustrating torture, maybe no one was.

"Christ, I'm sorry," Benson gasped. Sorry for himself, actually, because she might not screw him again.

Her ripe naked flesh still jerking and twitching, Carol said, "That's all right, Doctor. It's an old story by now."

Benson was about to say he was more than eager to try again in a minute – hell, he'd have no trouble getting a hard-on five or six times in rapid succession with her – but his schedule was running much too late. After all, he had a whole office full of frustrated, fucked-up people out there who also needed help. Although none of them had her luscious curves or wild pussy.

He climbed off her and wiped his limp dick with a Kleenex, handing her some so she could dab at her dripping slit. "The door again, huh?" he asked.

"Yes," she sighed, trembling with anger. "The Goddamned door again!" Tears filled her lustrous black eyes as she gazed up at him. "If I don't find the answer soon, I'll end up in an insane asylum – I really will!"

He said soothing things to her while they dressed, but she wasn't fooled. She'd heard reassurances countless times before and she was more tormented than ever.

Normally, he scheduled his patients for once-a-week visits, but he told her to come back in four days. And to call him if she felt the pressure was unbearable. He started to prescribe strong tranquilizers for her, but she shook her head firmly.

"I've tried that. That's no solution, Doctor. All it does is turn me into a vegetable, and I still screw only it's not even slightly pleasurable. I feel right now that…"

She shook her head speechlessly, her eyes blazing. How could she explain the horrible frustration building up in her loins now, the furiously hot desire for an explosive orgasm, the desperate need for release. And each time she got madly aroused with sex, she got hotter and hotter, and suffered more and more afterward.

Because while the lush nurse could get aroused to frenzied heights of lust and maddening excitement, she couldn't come. She hadn't had a climax in two years, and her sex-tension was boiling up and threatening to shatter her mind, destroy her precarious sanity completely. She'd tried literally hundreds of men in the past two years, sucked and fucked so many different cocks she couldn't begin to remember them all. Some of the pricks were short and stubby, some were enormous and thick, some long and lean, some gentle, some savage, some staying with her frantic pussy for a solid hour and longer, others erupting in a minute or two.

But no one could make Carol come.

Nor could she fingerfucking herself. Or using a humming vibrator, stroking it deep into her hot cunt for two long hours and more. The effect was always the same. She got deliriously excited, madly aroused, and the more inflamed her lust the more she agonized afterward. Because her desire was furiously building up and if she didn't get release soon…

And it all began two years ago, on one bizarre night. Up to then she'd had a very healthy sex life, coming with her lucky partner in great boiling gushes, radiating with a glow of deep contentment afterward. Nor did she screw everything in pants then, either. Just men she liked. She was only twenty-three now and she faced a lifetime of frustrated horror.

Every time she was on the verge of blissful release, every single time her profound desire and lust boiled into a tremendous fire of excitement, it stopped all at once. A door closed in her mind, an eerie, shadowy door that slammed shut with frightening finality. And the door blocked out the memory of that night, and made it impossible for her to come.

All she remembered of that night was being at a wild party in Los Angeles. There were interns and other nurses and a lot of strangers, some of them natty Hollywood types, some of them hippies smoking weed. She recalled someone asking her if she'd like to attend a really wild party, and high on liquor and grass, she nodded eagerly.

From that moment on the entire night was a complete blank in her mind. She couldn't even remember who asked her to the private party. He was a shadowy figure in her mind, and ominous voice talking persuasively to her, whispering.

The ravishing nurse remembered waking in her apartment the next morning, feeling terrible. Her skin felt crawly and a secret shame burned in her, but she didn't know why because she couldn't remember. She assumed at the time she must have been drunk, but she didn't have more than two or three drinks. And you didn't get memory blackouts from grass, she knew.

And shortly after that the horror began. Two nights later she went to bed with someone she liked, and as usual got feverishly aroused. Only this time she couldn't come. That damned door slammed shut in her mind the very moment she usually started having a fierce orgasm. He tried again and again, but it didn't help. He went down on her, eating her luscious cunt for a whole hour but that only made things worse.

Ever since that night, she became a walking time-bomb of raw desire. Her sexual fuse was burning and burning and burning and Carol knew with terrified certainty she would explode any day now if she didn't get the release she needed so feverishly.

Thinking at first it was her partner, she tried screwing other men with the same result. And each time her frustrating tension became deeper and more agonizing, until she seethed with torturous passion, until she became a raving nympho.

And still she couldn't come.

Then she began going to psychiatrists. The first one listened solemnly, suggested he could make her come and tried strenuously in vain. He sent her, reluctantly, to another shrink who specialized in hypnosis.

The second one was too old and tired to try personally, but he told her she suffered from involuntary amnesia, that her mind had deliberately blocked out whatever happened that night because she felt it was so revolting and horrifying she couldn't face it.

He hypnotized her. He brought her back to that night, to the laughing and drunken clink of glasses and smell of strong grass in the air. He returned her to the shadowy, frightening voice that asked her to come to another, wilder party. And even under hypnosis she couldn't remember a single thing. The door slammed soundly shut on her memory.

Terrified at the psychiatrist's helplessness, Carol tried going to another one. And in the meantime her desperation drove her to pick up men in bars every night, to go to bed with almost anything in pants, as long as even the faint possibility existed that someone could make her come. Because her pent-up lust was beginning to drive her mad…

Then she began losing jobs at a frightening rate because she couldn't control her desperation any more. Every time she looked at a man she began wondering furiously whether he could make her come. The hospital staffs, used to a certain amount of lustful screwing on the premises, were shocked at her mad, wanton behavior. The word got around very quickly. Doctors' wives and interns' girlfriends and patients' families indignantly raised hell about her. And although the need for competent nurses – and Carol was still a very competent nurse – was critical almost everywhere, she got tired again and again.

And now she'd just arrived in this small, peaceful town a hundred miles north of Los Angeles, determined to make a fresh start somehow. The fresh start, she told herself bitterly, was to screw practically the first man she talked to, Dr. Benson.

Fully dressed and sitting in front of his desk now, Carol smoked in rapid, nervous puffs as she listened to him.

"One important fact, Carol," he said gravely, feeling his cock irresistibly rise again as he watched her sultry lips and lush breasts. "If you're going to work at the local hospital, for Chrissake, don't fool around with anyone there, staff or patients. This is a small, narrow-minded town and you won't last five minutes here if you start in on that action. Just stick to business there, okay?"

She nodded. "I figured that out for myself," she said dryly. "Don't worry, Doctor, I'll keep all the action on the side. I promise."

"Good. Of course, you'll keep me in mind if you get too aroused, won't you?" She nodded, but he knew he had his chance and blew it. She'd probably still let him screw her but only out of hope that he could eventually help her. Somehow.

He stared at the pages of scrawled notes he'd made when she first talked to him. He frowned.

"You say you've tried everything, right?" Wearily, she nodded. He leaned, back in his swivel chair.

"Well, you haven't. Yours is a desperate case and it might take very drastic measures."

Carol leaned forward, her excited breathing making her ripe tits part.

She stood up, smiling with hope and shining eyed. "A thousand percent, you mean – a million percent! Thanks so much, Doctor."

Then her face turned dark, as though a storm were passing in her mind. "God, what if none of this works?"

"Something will, Carol. A beautiful girl like you," he grinned, "can't miss."

"But I have missed for two straight years," she said bitterly and walked to the door. She turned, her eyes blazing with mad determination.

"Someone out there can make me come," she whispered. "Someone has to! Or I'll go crazy…"

She closed the door behind her. Christ, thought Benson, what a Goddamned shame. A gorgeous, fantastic fuck like Carol Parsons couldn't even have an orgasm while millions of plain girls and women around the world were screwing and coming at this very moment. He scanned the pages of notes he'd made rapidly. Somewhere here, in what she'd first told him, there had to be a clue. There had to be a clue, Goddammit, because a case like this could make him rich, possibly famous internationally.

The case fascinated him, made him feel like Sherlock Holmes. He stuffed the notes in his briefcase, getting ready for the next patient. He would take them home tonight and pore over them, relentlessly searching.

Mrs. Fairweather came into his office, overfed and rich and bored at fifty. Shit! After a passionate knockout like the nurse, Mrs. Fairweather looked like a living hangover.

"Oh, Doctor, so thrilled to see you!" She sat her fat ass on the chair and wriggled it coyly. "I-I almost did it, this time," she breathed excitedly. "I almost took my clothes off in public! It was the most horrible urge, Doctor, oh Lord, someday I just know I'll do it and I'll be ruined forever!"

Benson put his grave expression on his face. Mrs. Fairweather suffered from the irresistible urge to strip in public. If she ever succumbed to it, and they both knew damn well she wouldn't, she would be the comic sensation of the year with her rolls of blubber nakedly quivering before a revolted townspeople. She might turn some impressionable boys off to the female sex permanently with her blowsy, sagging flesh. Shit, she ought to be classified a public hazard.

"Tell me all the details," Benson said, nodding. "Every one, Mrs. Fairweather."

While she prattled on, Benson smiled to himself. Her so-called irresistible urge to strip in public was nothing more than a raw desire to make her disgusting body available to anyone and everyone. In a word, she needed a healthy, savage fuck. But he wasn't about to tell the silly bitch the truth. After all, she was paying him forty dollars for fifty minutes every single week, and he would be Goddamned if he'd toss that kind of easy money away. He might never tell her. She'd confided to him that her own husband hadn't screwed her in five years, and it was easy to see why. Instead of stuffing her mouth with rich garbage, all she had to do was lose fifty pounds, take off that nauseating, garishly made up face and keep her silly mouth shut, and she'd get laid in ten minutes.

Well, maybe a week or two, anyway.

Benson continued to nod like a puppet while she babbled on, his mind on Carol Parsons. What in the hell could have possibly happened to her in that missing night? Why did a sultry, radiant girl like that suffer from such a bizarre condition? How in the hell was he going to cure her, find that hidden clue? Because it was there. Benson could feel his sharp instincts quivering. He knew it was there in his mass of notes, just a remark or a comment possibly, but it was there.

He was already becoming obsessed with the gorgeous nurse, his fingers itching to seize those notes now and reread them, pore over every tiny obscene detail, searching, probing, examining, hunting in dead earnest.

Christ, if he didn't help her come soon he'd be ready for a straitjacket.