Billy moved forward and untied one of her wrists.
She was relieved to know that she would be freed from her bonds. 'Thanks,' she whimpered pathetically.
Billy turned to leave. His brother was already at the front door, unbolting it. 'You can figure out a way to untie the other knots. Good luck,' Billy said. He waved at her, grinning broadly as he left the beach cottage.
With her one free hand, Sally managed to untie her other wrist from the bedpost. The knot was tied so tightly that it took her a full hour to free herself. She rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, feeling mixed emotions about what had happened to her.
What would she do now? she wondered. She couldn't report Johnny and Billy to the police. If she said that they had raped her, they would deny it. And Billy had spoken the truth. There were no witnesses to the rape. She would look like a damned fool. There was nothing that she could do. Her dignity and honor had been trampled on by Billy and Johnny. She despised them both, but there was nothing that she could do to redeem her honor.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was getting late, but Sally decided that she wanted to go for a swim. She put on a tight-fitting, skimpy bikini and headed for the beach. The beach was only three blocks from her apartment, so she was there in a jiffy.
She ignored the lewd stares of the men who lingered on the beach as she strode toward the ocean water and leapt into the breaking waves. Her muscles ached from the abuse that Billy and Johnny bad meted out to her, and she found the salt water very soothing on her flesh. She swam about in the cold water and body surfed, enjoying herself totally, forgetting for a time the dreadful experience which she had just been put through. Before long, the sun began to sink on the horizon and the ocean breezes became cold on her flesh. Her skin was covered with goose-bumps and she ran out of the water. The air was chilling on her flesh and she realized that it was a mistake to stay in the water so long. She was freezing, quivering. She hugged herself as she stood in the sand.
'Hello, there, little lady,' came the deep voice of a handsome man who sat behind her. 'You look like you're freezing to death. Here, take my jacket.' He rose and moved forward, gallantly removing his terrycloth jacket and placing it over her shoulders.
'Why, thank you,' she said shyly, snuggling into the warm jacket. 'That's very sweet of you. My name is Sally.'
'Nice to meet you, Sally. My name is Bertram. Bertram Havermeyer. I'm staying at a condominium just up the beach a bit. How about joining me for a drink. You look like you could use something to warm you up.'
'No, I don't think…'
'Oh, come on. I'm not going to attack you or anything. I'm new in the area, on a vacation from New Jersey. You're the first friendly person I've met in Hermosa Beach. And the prettiest, too.' He put his arm around her shivering shoulders and led her to the Strand, the concrete walkway that ran along the ocean.
Sally felt safe and secure with Bertram Havermeyer. He was big and strong, with bulging muscles and a thick chest covered with hair. He had a beautiful head of hair, curly thick blond hair, cut fashionably. Bertram had the air of a man with money. Sally snuggled up close to the man as they walked into the lobby of his expensive condominium building. They stepped into the elevator, which opened up on the penthouse floor of a stunningly decorated condominium apartment. Sally was visibly impressed.
'You like the place?' Bertram Havermeyer asked. 'Frankly, I think it's a bit garish and gaudy, with all of the leather and suede furniture and the gold and silver ornaments. Besides,' he added, 'I never was crazy about modern art,' referring to the Dali and Warhol originals which lined the walls. The handsome man seemed nonchalant, speaking about original works of art as though they were mere dime store prints.
'What would you like to drink?' he asked coolly.
'A rum and Coke, please,' Sally replied.
'Say,' Bertram said off-handedly, 'why don't you slip out of that wet bikini. You can throw on my bathrobe. It's hanging on the bathroom door.'
'Thanks,' Sally answered, rising and walking to the bathroom. She was impressed at the marble floor in the bathroom. Tugging off her bikini, she turned around to discover that there was no bathrobe hanging on the door. Undaunted, she shrugged and called out to Bertram. 'Excuse me, but your bathrobe isn't here,' she said. 'If you have something else that I might…'
Before she could finish the sentence, Bertram Havermeyer stepped into the bathroom, his eyes glowering at her luscious tits. 'You're right, Sally,' he said calmly. 'Now, step this way.' He grabbed her arm and led her through the bathroom door, down a long, narrow, plush carpeted hallway and into a dark room.
'What's this all about?' she protested angrily, trying to hide her young tits from his view, covering herself with her hands. She shuddered with fear, wondering what the man was planning to do next. She had trusted the man implicitly, and it was most distressing to find him acting strangely.
'I'll show you what this is all about, my darling young girl,' he said. Casually, he sauntered over to the corner of the room and turned on the light switch. The room became bathed in harsh spotlights. There were four bright spotlights in the room, one in each corner. The lights were so bright that she briefly went blind. Covering her eyes with her hands, she cowered in the middle of the room. Then, when her vision began to return, she made a stumbling dash for the door. Bertram made no move to stop her. Still partially blinded, she turned the doorknob and threw the door open. Running forward, she smashed into the chest of a hulking bunk of a man who stood in the hallway just outside of the door. He stood there, his heavy, hairy, thick arms crossed over his heaving and huge chest. When she smashed into him, he didn't move an inch. She bounced off of his chest and fell roughly to the floor.
'Met my good buddy,' Bertram said casually, his voice soft and even; 'This is Malcolm Reams. Ever heard of him?' He chuckled as he spoke, enjoying some kind of inside joke. Malcolm Reams laughed, too. 'Malcolm, this is Sally. I met her on the beach. I thought she'd make an excellent co star for your next feature film. What do you think other?'
'Nice piece of ass,' Malcolm said. He reached down and plucked the girl off the floor with one, swift effortless motion, astonishing Sally with his immense strength. Malcolm Reams lifted her up high, her toes a foot off the floor. He eyed her up and down, taking in the luscious contours of her beautiful, young body. 'Nice tits, nice curves, nice red pussy.'
'Yeah, I thought that would photograph well. Red cunts are commercial. They sell more movies. Men dig red-thatched pussies. She's a salable item, for sure,' Bertram Havermeyer said matter-of-factly. His voice was firm and even, without any inflections. He spoke like a businessman conducting a transaction. 'Hmmmmm,' he said, shaking his head up and down in a gesture of approval. 'Women like red-cunt bitches, too, right?'
'That's right,' Malcolm Reams said, turning Sally around in mid-air. 'Nice ass, too!' he said. Then, he held her aloft with one powerful arm and smacked her ass with his other hand. The smacking sound resounded through the harshly-lit room.
'What in the hell is going on around here?' Sally inquired indignantly. She was totally confused this was an absurd situation. Absurd, but frightening. Here she was being held aloft by a monster of a man, a man named Malcolm Reams.
Being held up like a hunk of meat, under the watchful eyes of Bertram Havermeyer. She felt ridiculous. What in the world was happening in this expensive Harmon Beach condominium? she wondered. 'Let me go, you fucking ape!' she shouted at Malcolm.
Malcolm didn't take kindly to her remark. He sneered at her, his upper lip curling over his straight white teeth. He tossed her aside, flinging her effortlessly across the room. She fell roughly onto the carpet, thankful that there was a thick pile rug on the floor to break her fall. She could have been hurt badly otherwise. She shook her head in disbelief and listened with intense interest to the discussion between Malcolm Reams and Bertram Havermeyer.
'I think she'll do quite nicely, don't you?' Bertram said.
'Yeah, you can make the bitch a fucking star,' Malcolm Reams said, his broad chin thrust forward, a lewd
