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The Blackmailed Housewives
CHAPTER ONEFrancine DeRoan thumbed through the thick pale-green ledger sheets one last time, as if hoping some heretofore unnoticed figures might somehow appear in the accounts receivable columns, or perhaps some long-unpaid bill might have vanished from the books. Francine was worried, and justifiably so, and her brow was furrowed with unaccustomed ridges of anguished concern. This wasn't something she'd bargained for; since Marty's death everything had been smooth and simple. But now - now was a different story. The bills were coming in daily, and in ever-increasing amounts, some with unmistakable threats typed across the bottom, but the sales were steadily going downhill.Her little boutique, most of what she had to show for eleven years of marriage to Marty DeRoan, just couldn't pull the customers like it once did. Maybe it was only a sign of the times - inflation, perhaps - but whatever it was, Francine knew she was in trouble unless she moved fast and correctly.Harry Bresler sat comfortably in the brown leather chair opposite Francine's desk, his shiny-black Italian pumps propped leisurely on the magazine-littered coffee table. He knew she was thinking his proposition over; he knew also that a vicious argument was taking place at this very moment in Francine's brain, that his offer probably made her sick to her stomach. But Harry didn't mind; in his line of work one grows used to looks of disgust and ruffled morals. He'd been in the flesh trade too long to think about things like that any longer; those worries were for the squeamish, and this was one operation that wasn't for the weak-hearted.The wrinkles in Francine's forehead rose up and down like puckered ridges in a carpet as she nervously fingered the ragged edges of the accounting sheets held in her hands. She looked older with the wrinkles, but still not nearly the forty-three she actually was. Francine was incredibly well-maintained for a woman over the hump of forty; she could have passed for an easy thirty in any beauty salon in Washington, and she'd tried them all at one time or another until she found her miracle-worker, Kenneth Lamont of Mister Kenneth fame, and now she was confident of her constantly renewed youthfulness. But in Francine's case, there was more than just skill involved - Francine was blessed with the taut, springy skin of a nineteen-year-old, and her body was one many a girl in her twenties would have envied. "I just don't know, Harry," she spoke after a while, "It just sounds all too easy to me... and it would be awful if we were caught. Just imagine what the papers would say - 'Suburban Prostitution Ring Broken in Nation's Capital!' Why, every wire service in the country would pick it up. We'd probably get thirty years when the press finished with us!"Harry had opened his fingernail clip and pulled out the tiny file and was using it on his left hand, rhythmically sliding it back and forth across his neatly-manicured nails. "You're a worrier, Francine, you know that? A Goddamn worrier... And it's only been in the last few months that you've gotten this way.What happened to the old carefree, free-swinging Fran I used to know? It can't be your old man's death any more, that was over a year ago.""I know, Harry... it's just the lousy business that's doing it to me. One good month, just one good month, and I'd be good as new again," she said, slipping the tattered ledger sheets back into her top drawer. She was silent for a long while, then she brushed the bottle-blonde hair from her eyes and sat down at her desk, painfully aware that Harry was waiting for an answer.His proposal had caught her totally by surprise, and only now was the whole incredible scheme beginning to fit into place. It wasn't what he had proposed that had shocked her; she'd known Harry for several years, they'd been cautiously intimate even before Marty's death, and his profession was no secret to her. She knew his big bankrolls came from fast-money dealings in the prostitution racket - just how and where and when he'd never chosen to divulge. But she knew all she needed to know. The shocking part had been his plan to include her in on the take, to glean his stable of new girls from Francine's assorted young female customers. And even there he'd been deliberately evasive, insisting that everything would be simple and safe if she left all the details to him."Well, what'ya say, Fran?" Harry asked impatiently, dropping his nail-clip back in the left pocket of his custom-tailored suit of English wool, "Are you in or out? I can't wait around for an answer. You know I've got to move fast. I've got too many clients and not enough girls. I need some fresh meat on the table, and I need it right away. The money's there, and all you've gotta' do is give the nod... " Francine avoided looking him in the eye; sometimes he could twist her around his finger like a piece of twine with those bottomless coal-black pools he had for eyes. Finally, she looked up, "All right, you win... But I've got to hear more about this before you start. I want to know everything, Harry. If I've got to go this far, I want to know what's happening at all times, you understand?"A slow, mocking grin eased across Harry's face. "Okay, baby, whatever you say." He jumped up from the chair as if someone had hit him with a hot wire, "I'll see you tonight... We can go over the details then." He didn't look back as he closed the door to the office behind him. Francine heard the store chime sound as he passed through the glass doors and into the sparse assortment of shoppers along the covered walkways of the Foxcroft Shopping Center.Her chest sank as her lungs quickly emptied; without meaning to, she'd been holding her breath since she had given Harry the go-ahead. And now, with Harry hardly out of shouting range, she was beginning to have doubts and fears already. It was all so frightening, so dangerous, yet it seemed the only way out. If she closed the shop, she had nothing left. Marty's insurance money had all dwindled away in new inventory for the spring season, and there was simply nothing left.She heard the door chime signal a prospective customer, and Francine unhesitatingly leaped from her swivel chair to meet her. She hoped the afternoon would be busy; at least enough people around to keep her mind off all this. She only had to make it 'til tonight; Harry would ease her anxieties in the best way possible when he dropped by - that much she was sure of.CHAPTER TWOIt was nearly ten when Harry finally arrived; late as usual. Fran had kept everything in the oven; she was used to this by now. She unlatched the door when she heard his car turn into the driveway and returned to the kitchen to pull the dinner back into shape."Fran, baby, it's me!" came the expected shout from the entrance hallway, "Where are you?""In the kitchen!" She heard the door close and Harry's heavy tread on the long hallway floor."Sorry I'm so late, honey," he began unconvincingly, "But I got tied up with a client. You know how those things are." As he spoke, he lifted the lids of every pot and serving dish Fran had clustered around the work counter, obviously searching for something. "Oh, there it is... " He spotted a ceramic serving bowl on the back of the gas range, "I thought you'd forgotten it."Fran brushed him aside to get into the oven, "Get the hell out of here, Harry. I'll bring everything to you in the dining room... including your boiled beef and horseradish." She pulled a steaming casserole from the oven and let the door slam closed, "Now just get out of my way!"Harry obediently shrugged and left the kitchen and flopped wearily on the sofa opposite the entrance to the dining room, where he could keep an eye on Francine through the kitchen doorway. He kicked off his shoes and pulled the ottoman in his direction with a kick of his left foot, sorted the afternoon paper from the magazine rack beside the sofa and turned to the sports results."That's not the dining room, Harry Bresler!" barked Fran as she stood in the kitchen doorway holding a steaming serving tray loaded with hot food, "And put your shoes back on. For once, you're going to act like a gentleman."Harry made a face and waved a limp hand in her direction, "Who're you expecting... maybe the Queen of England or somebody? Why the hell can't you let a man relax while he eats? These shoes are killing me!" His face suddenly wrinkled with the strain of day-long anguish."Oh, all right," muttered Fran, "You'll never let me hear the end of it if I say no... come on to the table. And don't start eating until I get everything served."He dragged his chair to the table and sat patiently, with only a quick taste of the asparagus to quench his appetite, while Fran toted in the last of the dinner."Hand me your cup and saucer and I'll get you some coffee," offered Fran before she sat down.She quickly returned from the kitchen with his double cup filled with night-black coffee and placed it at his right elbow, then stepped back as if to admire her handiwork. Everything seemed in order, so she seated herself finally across the table from Harry, who was already filling his plate with boiled beef and a triple helping of horseradish."Don't be in such a hurry, for Christ's sake, Harry," chided Fran, "Nobody's gonna' take it away from you."Harry didn't bother a reply, but instead, scooped another spoonful of Fran's special horseradish sauce onto his pile of simmering beef."If I can interrupt your work a second, Harry," continued Fran, "I'd like to hear more about this little business deal you've talked me into. You've got a lot of explaining yet to do before I'll be able to sleep tonight."He paused in mid stride, his fork poised halfway between the dish of asparagus and his plate, and looked up at her intently. "I told you today, sweetheart, that the details were best left to me. I'm the one who knows this game, and I'm the one who'll be calling all the shots, okay?"Fran was caught by surprise; she hadn't expected such harshness from Harry, it wasn't like him to talk to her this way. "All right, Harry, but I still think I'm entitled to know at least something about how this plan of yours will operate. I mean... well, surely I can be more help if I know what's going on."Harry emptied his forkful of vegetables on his plate, scraping aside the mound of beef and horseradish to make room, then turned back to Fran. "That's where you've gone wrong already. Your whole part in this operation is to stay clean and to keep out of the picture unless I need you, understand?" He waited there for Fran to nod affirmatively. "I'll do all the dirty work... all of it. All I want from you is a good cover and the names of girls who're behind in their payments. And that's all you have to do... nothing else. You just do that much for me. baby, and we'll be rolling in the money before you know it."Fran lowered her eyes from his; she felt a little foolish for even bringing the issue up again after what he'd said in the shop this afternoon. She could see that this wasn't the time to press him for more information; there'd be plenty of time for that later.Harry's coat, tie and gray-and-white-striped shirt were draped neatly over the back of the leather recliner chair that sat in the corner of the den. It had once been Marty DeRoan's favorite after-dinner resting place; but that was all in the past now. Francine was nestled against Harry's strong shoulder, basking in the cozy warmth of an unnecessary fire, contentedly dozing off, then catching herself as her head sank with a jerk each time she fell asleep. She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting quietly like this; she never considered the time when she found herself with unaccustomed moments alone in the company of a man. Since Marty's death those brief instances were few and agonizingly far apart, and she looked forward to Harry's infrequent visits with increasing anticipation each time they planned these meetings."You asleep?" whispered Harry, giving the bulging curve of her breast a gentle squeeze through the thin fabric of her dress."Uh-uh," answered Fran, squirming even closer against his side as she replied, "Just nodding a little."Without a word, Harry allowed his fingers to drift along the swell of her breast until his opened palm cupped the full surging mound delicately. He could feel her body stiffen, her breath suddenly coming faster. With one finger his middle one, he caressed the inviting softness of her breast, rubbing the swollen tiny peak of her nipple through her dress and the thin sheerness of her bra. At his touch, it seemed to double in size and harden in a series of quick, throbbing swells."Ummmmm, Harry, that feels good... so good," she purred, still nestled under his arm like a youngster.He tweaked the sensitive nipple with his thumb and index finger, and she shivered involuntarily from the tip of her toes along her spine to her shoulders. Pausing for a moment, he moved his exploring hand around the curve of her breast, across the smoothness of her back, until his fingers found what he was searching for: with practiced deftness he eased the zipper down along the bare satiny plane of her back until he reached the taut elastic band of her panties. He stopped there an instant, slipping his fingers between her flesh and the tight band, far enough down the hollow of her naked back to reach the first few inches of her fleshy buttock crevice. Teasingly, he flicked a finger against the tightly puckered ring of her anus, and felt her quickly shrink away, another helpless shiver racing along her spine as she responded to her vulnerability. He chuckled to himself, and massaged her bare flesh in slow, concentric circles as his hand eased back along her back until he reached the stretched fabric of her dress, pulled taut across her shoulders. Pausing first to unsnap the tiny metal hooks on her bra, he then eased the shoulders of her dress down along her arms until the dress hung limply over her firm, ample breasts.He stopped his smooth, seductive motions and looked her over thoroughly, amazed as always at the incredible body she still possessed. She was amazingly blessed with the best of two worlds, the ripened perfection of a mature woman, and the succulent voluptuousness of a girl in her twenties. Yes sir, thought Harry Bresler, you're a lucky bastard to have a woman like Fran, yes you are.Again with his right hand, Harry tumbled the fabric of Fran's dress and the sheer tissue of her bra over the bulging mounds of her breasts, exposing the twin half-dollars of her dark nipples and the throbbing, hardened peaks that capped each. They swelled even more rigid as they felt the coolness of the open air, sending a burst of rippling electricity through her breasts and into her belly. His outstretched fingertip brushed lightly over the soft, warmly beckoning bulge of her tits, first one, then the other; then, finally, clamped tightly over the ripe fleshy mound, squeezing the delicate ivory-white flesh between his clenched fingers."Oooooh, God, Harry... don't stop, Harry, don't stop!" Her knees were opening and closing like scissors, and her buttocks were ground tightly against the sofa. Fran could feel the warm, sticky dampness spreading between her thighs as the cheeks of her buttocks clenched like starving lips the fabric beneath her. Even his touch was driving her up the wall, she didn't know how much more she could stand... the tension was welling up inside her like air in a balloon... she felt as if she would scream from the agonizing deliciousness his fingers were bringing her.She offered no resistance as he shoved her down onto the cushions of the long sofa, stretching himself beside her as he continued to relentlessly caress the soft, white mounds of her full, fleshy breasts; a low, moaning cry escaped from her half-parted lips as he roughly squeezed her tender, pulsing nipples between his fingers.His hands left the jutting tips and slowly eased along the flat plane of her belly. Her body arched off the sofa as his fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, brushing over the sparse, fluffy mound of her pubic hair until his hand made a maddening, electric contact with the warm, pink lips of her vagina."Oooooooo... that's nice, Harry, sooooooo nice... " Even in the dim light, he could see her flesh was covered with a million tiny goose-bumps as she shivered convulsively at his touch. Clutching the moist flanges of her pussy with his palm, Harry ventured a finger between the soft damp ridges. Fran managed a gasping moan as her crotch suddenly ground tightly against his hand. His middle finger explored the narrow, wet slit slowly, starting with the taut, muscular ring of her forbidden anus, easing over the hard membrane of flesh that separated her two enticing channels, then probed the hot, wet sheath of her hungry pussy. The soft pink walls parted unhesitatingly as his rigid finger slipped into the clasping tunnel, and he could feel the fleshy passage open hungrily as he probed it deeply with his forefinger."Feels nice, huh baby?" he taunted, "I'll bet you'd like a little more, right?"Fran opened her lips as if to reply, but as she did, Harry squirmed a second stiffened finger into her constrictive passage, buried up to the third joint in the warm, juicy depths of her cunt. Only a muffled cry of pain and excitement came from her throat."Well, how about it, sweetie?" he repeated.Fran managed a weak, gasping reply, "Oh, yes... yes!"Harry's plundering finger slipped from her wet, clutching grip, and he dragged his fingertip along her warm, quivering slit until he found the throbbing bulb of her clitoris. With his thumb and forefinger, Harry squeezed the incredibly sensitive flesh as she squirmed and writhed beside him on the sofa. Back and forth like a pearly marble he rolled the pulsing pleasure-bulb, and Fran gasped and choked for air as rippling waves of undiluted animal passion swept over her shivering body.As her naked pelvis ground upward tightly against his hand, Harry continued his maddening assault on her loins, twisting and pulling on her hardened clit until she moaned and cried from the agonizing delights of his skillful touch."Oh, God yes... yes! Don't stop, Harry! Don't stop!" she screamed.Sensing she was nearing her orgasm, Harry began to roughly rub her moist vaginal crevice with the tips of his fingers, stroking over the quivering peak of her clitoris and along the wet furrow between the hungrily pursed lips of her vagina."That's it! That's it! Don't stop... Don't stop, Harry... Please!"Suddenly Fran's entire body arched high off the sofa and began to gyrate wildly against his opened palm, her warm moist crotch grinding against his hand as a long pitiful moan slipped from Fran's parched, half-opened lips... and then it was over."Oooooohhhhh!... aaaaahhhhh... " Fran quivered from head to foot and jerked convulsively as the shuddering currents of her orgasm raced from her tightened loins; then she collapsed with a thud on the sofa at Harry's side."Oh, Harry... that was incredible, just incredible," she gasped hoarsely, still struggling to catch her breath, "You sure know all my secret spots, baby."Harry laughed, pulling his hand from between her sweat-soaked thighs at last, "That spot was no secret, honey... no secret at all."Fran finished stripping her dress and panties from her legs and then unfastened her garter belt, still hooked tightly around her hips. In another few seconds, she was completely naked, glistening with tiny beads of perspiration from the excitement. "Fuck me, Harry... fuck me now, please!" she groaned out at him, her hunger blatantly apparent.But that concealing smirk was still stretched across Harry's face, for this time he had something special in mind... something he'd wanted from Fran for a long time... something she was going to give him tonight, one way or another."Not quite yet, baby," he grinned, "I've got a few needs of my own I'd like answered."At first Fran was confused, unaware of what Harry had in store for her. But as he swung his legs off the side of the sofa and dropped his trousers and undershorts in a pile at his feet, she began to realize unmistakably what he meant."Get down here on the carpet," he ordered. "I want you to suck it for me."Fran wracked her mind for a way out, an excuse that would free her of this awful, despicable act he was about to demand of her. "No, Harry, please no... you know I can't do that!" Her eyes begged with him, pleaded for him to change his mind, "I've tried before, Harry, you know I have... I'd do anything for you, Harry, but I just can't do that... I just can't!""Down on your knees, Fran... right now!"Brushing the near-white blonde hair from her eyes, Fran obediently crawled from the sofa and settled at Harry's feet, kneeling between his wide-spread thighs. She knew he meant business; that this time there would be no excuses. His dangling organ hung on a level with her mouth not more than a foot away. Struggling to hold back the hot lump in her throat, she tried desperately to convince herself she could do it... she had to... there was no other way out!Harry slid forward on the sofa, gauging carefully the distance from his limply hanging cock and her trembling lips. He adjusted his elevation just slightly, so that the purplish head brushed her lips ever so little."Okay, sweetie baby, it's all yours. Let's see you do a real good job for Harry, all right?"Fran turned her face away from the smooth fleshy head and closed her eyes.Harry spun her head back so that she was less than an inch from his dangling prick."You wanna' play games with me tonight, huh? I know just what you need, baby, to get you going... You wouldn't want ole' Harry to have to get rough, would you?" A broad, leering grin spread slowly across his face. He knew Fran was a broad who appreciated a little knocking around once in a while. He'd had to rough her up once before, back when they'd first started running around together, when she was starting to have guilt pangs from stepping out on her old man.He grabbed her ears in each stubby hand and twisted upward. The pain was excruciating, Harry knew only too well, he'd had the same hold pulled on him in fights. He turned her face up to his loins easily, then shoved his hips forward, pressing the flaccid organ against her closed lips. And still, Fran couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. Once more the strong hands twisted at her tiny ears and she screamed with pain."Open up, baby, before I yank your ears off!"Her lips parted slightly. One more twist and her agonized lips slowly opened. He gazed at the open mouth in front of him, then very carefully forced the still soft, rubbery head into the warm moist cavern and let it lay there twitching slightly as it began to harden just a little. She didn't move at all, careful not to brush the swelling organ with her tongue."Now, sweetie baby, you can go about this thing one of two ways... you can suck me off nice like and then we'll get on to the rest of it, or... " His tone was suddenly convincingly cruel, "I can get as mean and nasty as I have to... but either way, you'll still wind up sucking my dick, understand?"Fran knew it was hopeless to resist. This was something she had to do, no matter how disgusting it seemed... no matter how much she fought back the churning ball of nausea welling in her tightened belly. She closed her lips over the still-soft organ and teased it reluctantly with her tongue. She felt his hands loosen their painful grip on her ears and for that much, at least, she was grateful. His powerful hands held her firmly, but not painfully.She knew Harry wouldn't deliberately hurt her badly, unless he didn't get his way.Sometimes he could be frighteningly brutal when things weren't going the way he wanted.Fran closed her eyes and tried to keep her mind on this task he had chosen for her.