All of them relaxed then, gasping, spent and satiated-all except Maria who quickly masturbated herself to completion. It had been one of the most thrilling experiences of her life. She curled up beside Judy then and lay panting in her roommate's ear.
Chapter 8
"Mr. Roscoe Snyder to see you," came the secretary's voice over the intercom.
Lance Gregory reached across his desk, flicked the switch on the small speaker and said, "Send him in." In a moment Roscoe Snyder's huge frame appeared in the doorway. He paused, uncertain, then coughed politely-like a bear growling.
"Come in, Roscoe," Lance snapped. "Sit down. I have something special for you this time."
The huge man settled into the easy chair opposite Gregory's desk. He nervously ran one of his paws over his face, waiting. "Uh-somepum different, huh?" he growled.
"Yes," Lance replied. "There's a man I want you to beat the shit out of." Gregory smiled, awaiting Roscoe's response.
Roscoe grinned, baring his yellow teeth, and began nodding his jowly head. He looked like a chimpanzee about to be fed.
Lance watched his collection man for a moment, then held up his hands to cut off the enthusiastic, primitive demonstration of loyalty and desire to do bodily harm to his fellow man.
"Well, perhaps I don't really want you to beat the shit out of him. Mostly, I want you to scare him. I don't want a lawsuit on my hands, but you can rough him up as much as you want as long as you don't hospitalize him." Gregory grimaced, realizing he probably wasn't communicating with the "goon" who sat before him. He knew it was unwise to give Roscoe complicated instructions. Now he had given him, seemingly, contradictory instructions for dealing with Vern Shipley and he had the unfortunate task of clarifying his instructions. It was, unfortunately, a bit like explaining ethics or morality to a male hound about to mount a female in heat.
"Roscoe I want you to hit Vern Shipley in the stomach area a lot, but I-I don't want you to break any bones. Uh-when you leave him, make sure he can still walk, okay?"
Roscoe nodded, frowning. His lips moved, and finally he spoke. "Who's Vern Shipley?"
"I'll give you his address and describe him to you in detail. I don't want any mistakes like that time you beat up the wrong guy, all right?"
"Sure," Roscoe said, smarting from the implied criticism. I'll get the right guy this time. Don't you worry, boss. When? Where? Yeah, when do you want me to nail the rotten bastard?"
Roscoe always got enthused about his assignments. "I'll leave the where to you, Roscoe, although I suppose you should get him either outside his girlfriend's place or in the parking lot behind his office. He sometimes works late. I mean, I want you to get him in the dark, understand?"
Roscoe nodded. Gregory hoped Roscoe knew why dark was important, although it was dangerous to assume anything with Roscoe. Hell, Vern thought, if Roscoe weren't so loyal and willing to work for small money, I'd get somebody who had a brain.
"Why the dark?" Roscoe asked.
Gregory ran his well manicured fingers over his face and shook his head. Roscoe was unbelievable-literally (no, virtually) an ape posing as a human being. "I want you to take him in the dark because then you're less-likely to be seen. Understand?"
"Oh," Roscoe said, nodding, scrunching up his snout. "Yeah, you don't want anybody to see me and you don't want this Vern Shipley to see me either." He smiled, pleased with his reasoning powers.
"Precisely, Roscoe," Gregory said, then added, "Good boy!"
"Why-uh-why you want him roughed up, boss?"
"That's my business, Roscoe," Gregory said firmly. "This isn't a collection problem, however. I shall have the victim informed by phone why he was beaten-"
Gregory broke off then, thinking. No, he decided, perhaps it would be best to let Roscoe utter some primal grunt that would give Vern Shipley a clue. Yes, the fear aspect just might be heightened if animal "Roscoe" were to blurt out something. The only danger, of course, would be that Roscoe might utter too much. Could he be trusted? If carefully instructed, with much repetition, Gregory decided the oaf could deliver perhaps one line. No more…just one line.
"On second thought," Gregory said, "I would like you to say to Mister Shipley a little something. Let's see…"
"How about 'fuck you, lousy bastard,'" Roscoe volunteered. Grinning, he nooded, pleased with himself.
"No, no, Roscoe," Gregory said. "We want something informative."
"Informative?" Roscoe asked, confused.
"Yes, information," Gregory said. "I want you to tell him why you're beating him up. But don't knock him unconscious and tell him when he can't hear you, understand?"
"Yes, understand," Roscoe said. "Talk to him while he's awake."
"That's the idea, boy," Gregory said. "You're getting this just fine. Let's see. Tell him to lay off Maria Reese. Say it just like that. Say 'lay off Maria Reese or this is just a taste of what's going to happen.' Repeat that back to me, Roscoe."
Roscoe did, and he got the message just fine.
"Good," Gregory said, "and say nothing more. Just that."
"Okay, boss," Roscoe said, clenching and unclenching his furry fists. "Gotcha, right…"
"I think it best if you nail him tomorrow night. Wait behind his office and get him there if it's dark. Otherwise, follow him to either his girlfriend's place or his own place." Gregory handed Roscoe a slip of paper with the necessary addresses typed on it, and Roscoe put the paper in his pocket.
Then, Gregory handed Roscoe a photo of Vern Shipley-a photo that had been taken by the disguised camera in Dream-Date's reception room on the day Vern Shipley had first visited Gregory.
"That's your man," Gregory said. "Don't make any mistakes. Just tell him what we said and get the hell away."
Roscoe Snyder examined the photo carefully, nodding and snarling at it. He seemed to do everything but sniff the photo for a scent of Vern Shipley.
Gregory could not help laughing, nor could he prevent the comment that now came from his lips. "Good boy," he said. "Now go…go get him…Beat him up tomorrow night…when it's dark!"
Nodding, Roscoe rose and trotted for the door.
There he stopped. "Money?" he said. "When do I get the money?"
"As soon as you've completed your assignment," Gregory said. "When you've beaten him up in the dark without getting caught, I will pay you-same as always, okay?"
"Okay," Roscoe said. "Yeah, same as always." He turned to leave.
"Wait a minute!" Gregory called. "Who is it you don't know? Who is it you never even heard of?"
Roscoe grinned. He knew the answer to the question and he proudly said, "You…I never heard of you…or Dream-Date."
"Good boy, Roscoe. So long," Gregory said. "Do a nice job and I'll introduce you to a nice girl."
Roscoe nodded, beaming, and left.
Gregory sat contemplating this idea of introducing Roscoe to a female. He had made the promise as a joke, but it occurred to him now that sicing Roscoe on Maria Reese might be an interesting situation. He sat up straight then, shaking his head. But no, he thought, Maria is just freaky enough to enjoy a baboon like Roscoe!
Still it would be fun to watch the two of them going at it-or better yet-it would be fun to watch Roscoe raping Judy Thor! After all, Judy Thor had been just as disobedient and conniving in this Vern Shipley business as had Maria. Yes, it would be interesting to give these possibilities some thought.
Gregory dismissed the thought for the moment, however, and let his mind wander over these past few weeks. Vernon Shipley…Maria's increased involvement with the man despite the fact that he, Lance Gregory, president of Dream-Date Incorporated had broken the contract with Shipley…
Just two weeks had passed since he had slapped Maria around for working "fee-free" deals with Shipley. What the hell was wrong with Maria, anyway? He had educated her, paid her good money, made what seemed to be a lady out of her. And now she was repaying him by cheating Dream-Date out of its rightful fee. Did she really believe a man of Vernon Shipley's caliber would marry her? Did she really believe Vern could not see through the facade after a few weeks and detect a girl of low upbringing-a girl of the streets? Scowling, Gregory pondered this. Perhaps Maria had fooled him, or perhaps she had not fooled him, but he did not care. She certainly was one helluva lay.