valuable shipment was confiscated. But the poppy fields were flourishing, and there was always more, always more of the lucrative white stuff.
If anyone suspected Ernesto Garcia of illicit dealings, it was as a white slaver. At one time he was into high-priced procuring in a big way. But once he began to realize an immense profit from hard drugs, he confined his procuring to wild and orgiastic exhibitions, in which the subjects became 'art objects' to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, for relatively short periods of time. His 'clients' were usually men with whom he dealt in narcotics, his 'collectors', though he often held private exhibitions for his personal friends. On these occasions, he would act as the gracious host, not allowing financial transactions to sully a party.
The 'models' were young and gorgeous girls from countries all over the world. Many of them entered willingly into the arrangement – they were very well paid for their services and had a mini ranchero of their own in which to live, with studios and art supplies, and all kinds of recreational facilities to pamper them. There was a huge pool, and horses to ride, a sauna and tennis court. It was very much like an exclusive resort, except for one thing – the buildings and grounds were under constant guard. Not in a military way, but it was evident that the 'ranch hands' and other personnel were employed to prevent the girls' escape. Occasionally, a desperate young woman would make a break for it, but to no avail. Such exemplary misbehavior was rewarded with exemplary punishment… most discouraging. Sometimes the girl would simply vanish in the night, and the others would be told that she had truly been allowed to go home, and that they, too, could leave any time they liked. At other times, the poor escapee would meet with a tragic and maiming accident… her 'suicide' usually followed within a few days.
But there was another reason why the majority of girls stayed on: each of them was hopelessly hooked on drugs. They knew well enough what kind of horrors awaited them in the legit world if they were let loose on their own.
'What about the girl, Don Ernesto?' Dawson piped up. He used the Spanish title of respect for an aristocrat on occasion, especially when he wanted a favor. The big man leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his beefy hands together in salacious anticipation.
Garcia gave him a cool, steady smile that came suspiciously close to a sneer. He had a way of doing that when he was annoyed, or when he wanted to gain the upper hand with another person. Dawson shifted nervously in his chair. 'I haven't decided,' he said matter of factly, as he drew elegantly on a thin Havana cigar. 'It is risky. The girl is living with a widow; surely she has given the woman her family's address and phone number.'
'But Don Ernesto…'
'… And she is a student. The school will have her particulars as well. Besides, she looks too straight.'
'Well, so what? Once she gets a taste of that Mexican hospitality, she ain't going to want to go back home for a while! Especially when she gets hooked on them 'persuaders' you got for her. Anyways, I just know that under that innocent little kitten face of hers there's a ragin' she-cat dyin' to be let loose!'
'But have you forgotten, Jack… she-cats have long and dangerous claws, claws that scratch rather painfully. And the wilder the cat, the sharper its claws. I detest the sight of blood, don't you?'
'You can always keep a box of Band-Aids handy, Don Ernesto. That's what I do,' the printer wise-cracked. 'C'mon, pal. I can't stand to think of you passin' up a juicy little cunt like that. Goddamned, I get a hard-on just thinkin' about her. I bet she's got the sweetest little twat this side of heaven!' The big man chuckled lewdly and rubbed his hands together again.
'Spare me your pointed cliches, Jack. It's time to go fetch her,' the Colombian said, cocking his arm to look at this diamond-studded gold Piaget watch. 'I'll give you my decision at dinner – when she goes to the ladies room.'
'Ladies room?'
'Young girls always go to the ladies room during dinner; they are so boringly insecure.' (Garcia much preferred mature women, finding them far better lovers than inexperienced females, regardless how fresh and innocently beautiful they were – though he always had to try one once, just to satisfy his ego. But he never took one of them out; never had any kind of real relationship with them other than business that was also risky… young girls were invariably jealous because of their youth and immaturity. And they had nothing to say.)
'Well, if you don't mind, Don Ernesto, I'm gettin' in her pants tonight whether we take her south with us or not. This one's too good for me to pass up.'
'And your wife?'
'No sweat – I put Merle on a 5:00 o'clock plane, and with hardly a fight. She spent so Goddamned much money in them bo'tiques that she was worn out just from carryin' the parcels. 'Sides, I explained how you and me was goin' to have to talk a lot of heavy business stuff, and that bores the shit out of her.'
Garcia winced. He loathed vulgarity of every sort, and if Dawson weren't the technologist that he was, Garcia would long ago have terminated their 'partnership'. Rising to his feet, Garcia tamped out the half-finished Cuban cigar. This was Dawson's signal to be on his way. The lusting printer was all to happy to comply.
CHAPTER FIVE
'Chris…' Wendy said casually as she bent over her spent lover, her full round breasts pressing into his belly as she fondled his cock in her hand, 'have you ever… have you ever fucked anybody from behind?'
'You mean, doggie fashion?' the relaxed youth asked.
'No… I mean…' she placed her lips over the head of his cock, savoring the taste of their commingled sex juices. She licked it tenderly, feeling the organ begin to harden again. Her desire for him still was not sated. She wanted more and more!
'No… I mean, where you had your finger?' She felt a little shy about asking him. Perhaps it was morally objectionable to him.
'Greek style, eh? Well, no, I haven't tried it… not yet. Is that what you want to do next?'
She didn't answer. Instead, she sucked harder at his cock, thrilling to the feel of its growing hardness in her mouth. She would like to suck him into orgasm in her mouth if she didn't have such an aching want in her loins, a want that demanded his long, thick rod of flesh.
Chris couldn't believe that Wendy actually wanted him to ass-fuck her. Hell, Jill would never let me do that, married or not! he mused inwardly. He had all those frustrating months of unfulfillment with Jill to work off, those days and nights of torments when she would break away whenever his penis hardened up against her skin. Now he could relish his naked erections, knowing that Wendy was only too happy to have him do whatever he wanted with her. The thought of fucking her up the anus appealed to his curiosity. He'd always wanted to try it, but never believed any girl who wasn't a whore would stand for it. And Wendy was suggesting it! Live and learn. Her uninhibited sensuousness appealed to him so much now that he would have fucked her nose or her ears or her navel, and with her massaging mouth and hand on his heated cock, he felt he was her's anytime she liked.
Wendy raised her head, noticing the sex-crazed expression in his eyes. 'Well…?' she said seductively. He grinned at her, then reached for some loose pillows to place under her belly, elevating her beautifully rounded asscheeks in the air. The two sensuously curving mounds captured his gaze, and he reached out as if in a trance to run his coarse hands over them again and again. They were like warm marble. Wendy moaned in encouragement.
Finally, he used his fingers to spread the gently quaking cheeks as he darted his tongue into the puckered center, bringing a louder moan of pleasure to the girl whose long dark hair spread out over her shoulders and fanned out along her bare upper arms. She had her fingers in her pussy and was slowly but wantonly caressing the slick crevice, an erotic display that brought Chris' penis into a harder state of electric pulsation. He placed his bulbous cock-head against her wet pussy long enough to spread some of their coital wetness around the intruding hardness. They both instinctively knew that his heavily straining cock would need to be well lubricated to slide into the tight little walls of her asshole.
Holding her ass-cheeks wide apart, he began to push the head of his cock into her pinkly puckered anus, which yielded, amazing as it was, enough to take the thickness of the glans. (His own seeping seminal fluid helped.) Wendy gasped and bucked forward slightly.
But she came back hard against it, surprising Chris and causing him to lose his balance momentarily. Wendy
