of beauty and talent. She laid it on and the reporters took pictures and there I was, in all the papers and on T.V.: Miss Mackerel, Miss Mountain Flower, Miss Long Leaf Tobacco, etc. etc. And soon to be Miss One World. She sounded so stuffy and cold that I didn't think I was going to like her until, after the press conference, she grinned at me and said, 'I also have a B.S. degree. B.S. for bullshit.'
She wanted to know all about me. I reluctantly took her to my humble beginnings, my home. Juby was out of jail and Ruf was home trying to get rid of some bad flashbacks from some Florida Sunshine, an inferior grade of LSD. He saw Ms. Vivian Maples and said, 'God, Ruby, you've brought Vanessa Redgrave!' He was flashing and out of his skull, but Ms. Viv, as we began to call her later, thought that was real cute and took a shine to old Ruf. He was laying around in a tight bathing suit and showing off all his muscles.
'That wonderful boy is your brother?' she whispered to me. 'That's old Ruf,' I agreed, 'He must accompany us,' she said.
I shrugged. 'You wanta go to Rome, Italy, Ruf?' I asked. 'Why not?' he said.
'It will show that it's a down to earth, grass roots family effort,' Ms. Viv explained. 'He's so, uh, earthy. Know what I mean?' 'You got the hots for him,' I said.
'Ruby,' she gasped. 'One of the first th'ngs you must learn is that a lady doesn't use vulgar language.'
'So you don't have the hots for him,' I said. 'No matter to me. He might come in handy to carry luggage or something.'
You talk about a wild scene. Wow. We flew over on one of those 707's? You know, the big ones before the really big ones, which I don't like. I mean, if I'm going to die in a plane crash, I'd like to have my pieces mixed with, like, maybe eighty people instead of a couple of hundred, so I don't fly the jumbo jets a-tall. Bnt that one from Washington city to Rome was a nice one, and Ms. Viv let me and Pearl sit together while she sat with Ruf, who had been hand dressed by Ms. Viv, I mean, she'd bought all his clothes. He looked great with a shave and a haircut and neat clothing and he wowed Ms. Viv with an imitation of Gary Grant from an old movie saying, 'Vivian, Vivian,' like Gary Grant used to say, 'Judy, Judy.' But Ms. Viv didn't have the hots for my brother.
We had this suite of rooms, four of them, in a regular palace. I mean it had marble floors and-gold facets in the king-sized bathrooms and all this old, beautiful furniture and old pictures on the walls and connecting doors. Ms. Viv didn't have the hots for old Ruf, but she put him on the end, then her, then me and then Pearl. I took a nap, tired from the plane ride, and woke up to hear old Ruf sounding off in the adjoining room. I knew those sounds, snorts, grunts. He was fucking and he was in Ms. Viv's room. I giggled and went to sneak a peek through this big, old fashioned keyhole and saw that Ms. Viv finally had the hots for old Ruf, fore and aft, because she was kneeling over him sixty-nine, his big old cock in her mouth, and she was sucking it like an ice cream cone and Ruf was doing his bit by gobbling her cunt and I had a good view and they were so interesfed in each other and it was night and there was not much light, just a little one by the bed, that I opened the door and went in and watched.
I got the delicious trembles watching, because Ruf had learned a lot since I'd tried him. He was no longer just a wham bam thank you mam lover, but liked eating and all that. I sat down in a big soft chair and felt like playing with myself, but didn't. They got tired of eating each other and Ms. Viv crawled on Ruf and rode him. I had a beautiful view of Ruf's cock stitching up and down into Ms. Viv's ample bottom, and when she fell down on him, moaning and crying, and I saw Ruf's cock burst and pump into her, I clapped my hands and they sat up like a shot and said, 'Who, who?'
'Don't mind me,' I said. 'I was just curious about who was killing who. You two are noisy fuckers.' 'Ruby?' Ruf said. 'Kitsy,' Ms. Viv said. 'I was just auditioning Ruf.' 'Is that what you call it?'
She very calmly took up a corner of the sheet and wiped her cunt. 'I happen to know that one of the female judges from Norway like dark, strong, young men.'
'Ms. Viv,' I said. 'You're not suggesting that we cheat to win this contest.'
'Darling,' she said, smiling sweetly and toying with Ruf's lax man pole with one hand, 'we're going to do anything necessary to win this contest. It wasn't just for your looks that the Congressman picked you.'
'Well,' I said, 'now that we understand each other, I'll leave you two alone.'
'Thank you, dear,' Ms. Viv said, and I went out, looking over my shoulder to see her fall down and start to put new life in Ruf's member with her expert tongue. 'Don't use him all up,' I said. 'Save some for that judge from Norway.'
'Don't sweat it,' Ruf said. 'There's plenty to go around.'
God, those Italian men. I mean, like wow. Some girls talk about Frenchmen being sexy, but give me the Wops every time. They know how to eye a girl. They can fuck you with their eyes better than any men in the world and when one of them gives you a love pinch you know you've been pinched. We went out walking and I got a few looks and a pinch or two in crowded places and then we went over to the-hall where the contest was to be held and it was a big mother.
There we met Carlo. I didn't know until later that it had all been arranged in advance by Ms. Viv. Carlo was a minor figure in the Italian movie industry and one of the judges. He was about thirty, darkly handsome, tall, very smooth. He spoke English with only a trace of an accent and his hand on my arm spoke another language. It waited on nothing else, that message. Even wlbile we were doing the polite chit-chat bit he was rubbing my arm and telling me he was going to bed me. I was willing.
'To know you better, as a contestant,' he said, 'may I take you to dinner?' 'Sure,' I said.
We ate in a little place which Carlo said tourists didn't know about. He said it served the real food of Italy, not the fancy Americanized dishes like pizza and that shit. I ate some cheese pasta at his suggestion and it was great and had a few snorts of a good red wine and then you can bet we didn't waste any time. 'I will show you my home,' he said. 'Suits,' I said.
It was on a river and it was a wild pad and smallish. But rich. He was apparently making a dollar, and I found out how later. I was wearing something slinky and one piece without underwear. My hair was up. I had on a pair of cheap earrings. I mean, just onyx and pearls. Nothing fancy. I was wearing the natural look, little make-up. Inside his big main room there were soft lights and music, and they started as if automatically when 'we went in. He served me a frozen thing with rum in it and sat next to me.
'You are my first choice of all the contestants,' he said. 'Why, thank you, Carlo. I'm so pleased.'
'It is not, however that simple,' he said. He was leering at me and I took the ball. I don't believe in beating around the bush.
'Carlo,' I said, smiling at him. ''I'm a simple girl. If you Want something in exchange for your vote for me, just name it.' 'Ah,' he said. 'A realist.'
'I guess I am,' I said. 'I'm going to be an actress, you know, and I need a start. I figure this Miss One World thing will do it. So I'm willing to pay any price.' 'Any price?'
'Yes,' I said. 'You wanta start now?' I was ready. He turned me on something fierce and I was dying to find out if the Italians were as sexy as they seemed. 'Where's the bed, honey?'
'Ah,' he said, rising. I stood up, too. He reached out suddenly and grabbed the front of my dress and like to tore my shoulders off ripping it down.
'Goddamn, you stupid bastard,' I yelled, the dress falling to the floor to leave little Kitsy standing in the buff. 'That dress cost five hundred dollars.'
'Poof,' he said, shrugging off five bills just like that. He reached for me. I guessed it was worth it, because I was going to have one sure vote and there'd be others who'd listen to this big movie man. Then the bastard hit me. I mean, he hit me in the gut, his fist doubled. He didn't give it the full treatment, because if he had he'd have ruptured my spleen or something, because he was a strong bastard. I gasped and yelled and doubled up and he slapped me and my head rang and then he grabbed my arm and twisted up behind me and I stood on tiptoe because the bastard was about to break it. Oh,.shit, I was hurting. I mean, he hurt me bad. I was screaming and cursing and trying to stand tall enough to not hurt and he pushed and shoved me toward the bed and threw me down and slapped me and then I got mad. I mean, I don't mind a little rough stuff. I've told you that, but this was going too far.
'You don't have to be so goddamned rough,' I shouted. 'Don't worry, I will not bruise me.'
'You touch me again, you dumb wop sonofabitch and I'm going to kill you,' I said, my arm aching and my gut hurting like hell.
He slung his hand at me, trying to connect with my face and I ducked. I mean, I grew up with two rough boys. I mean, if you'd put this wop movie maker and old Ruf in a room and say sic 'em, you'd have nothing left of
