steady thumping of the AA guns died down.
"Feel better?" Hoover asked Kara, handing her yet another glass of wine. "I hope this won't affect your . . . performance."
She didn't answer him. Instead she took the glass of wine and drained it in two gulps.
"Colonel?" a voice above decks called down. "We've got a small boat pulling alongside. One guy driving, he's got a girl in back . . ."
Hoover clapped his hands in glee. "Splendid!" he called out. Then turning to Kara he said: "Your
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partner for the evening is here . . ."
Again, Kara just nodded. Hoover wasn't as fat and ugly as most of the Circle Army officers that made up her clientele. But he was just as depraved They heard the small boat arrive, drop off its passenger, then depart. Soon the sergeant was leading a young girl down into the cabin, carrying a small suitcase for her.
"Thank you, sergeant," Hoover said. "Now lock that door and don't disturb us for anything short of all-out war."
He turned to the new arrival. "And what is your name, my dear?"
"Angie," was her reply. She was one of Viceroy Dick's teen beauty brigade, lent to Hoover as a reward for his loyalty. Like the rest of Dick's stable, she was young, blonde, used, confused and addicted to cocaine.
"All right, ladies," Hoover said. "Use that cabin over there to get ...
prepared. And please hurry."
Kara got up and took the young girl by the hand, leading her into the small adjacent cabin.
"Don't mind this one," she told her. "He's really not as bad as the rest."
Angie nodded and opened the suitcase. "I went shopping today," she said, nervously. "I tried to get everything he wanted, but what I couldn't get, I borrowed."
Kara put her hand on the girl's shoulder and squeezed it. She was sweet, pretty kid-not the type one would expect to be mixed up in this business. But then again, none of the Viceroy's girls looked that way.
"Really, there's nothing to be nervous about," Kara 97
told her as she kissed her lightly on the cheek. "He won't even hardly touch us . . ."
Angie smiled slightly and emptied out the contents of the suitcase. Then both of them went about the business of getting dressed.
"Hurry, girls!" they heard Hoover call out from the next room. "I can't hold out much longer . . ."
Kara and Angie came out of the small cabin ten minutes later and presented themselves to Hoover.
They were dressed just the way he wanted them to be-their clothes, their hair and make-up were just right.
"Oh, girls," Hoover said, his voice jittery with anticipation. "You are perfect ..."
Both were wearing identical outfits: a female-version of a black tuxedo, a silk blouse, open to the navel and exposing the bosom, a garter-belt holding up black stockings and short leather boots. Each wore a string of fake diamonds around their neck and a glass tiara to hold back their hair. The overall effect was both regal and trashy at the same time.
Hoover opened a bottle of champagne and poured out three glasses. Then he opened a small snuff box and took a long, strong sniff of cocaine.
"This is heaven, girls . . ." he said.
They drank the champagne as Hoover continually insisted both women turn pirouettes for him. "You look just like her . . ." he moaned over and over.
He leaned back and unfastened his belt buckle.
"Kara, you know what to do," he said.
She smiled at him and then slowly, like an actress in a high-class porn movie, she began removing Angie's clothes and rubbing the young girl's body.
Hoover reached inside his pocket and produced a well-worn photograph. It was of a woman, dressed
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exactly like the two girls in front of him now.
As Kara stripped Angie naked and proceeded to seduce the young girl, Hoover tried his best to keep one eye on the live action.
But his attention was always drawn back to the photograph.
"She was once ours . . ." he murmured as he prematurely reached his first climax.
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CHAPTER 18
The second air raid of the night came in at exactly 1:15 A.M.
Just as with the
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol