A Tracy Dew Mystery Ch 02

An hour later, the three chums reunited in front of an alley on the west side of town. Beth had changed her top, replacing the soiled pink tube with a flimsy halter that left her round shoulders and plump midriff bare. Sam looked her over and gave a sarcastic sniff. "Nice belly button, Beth!"

Beth inspected herself proudly. "You like it? I'm thinking of having it pierced. The guy at the tattoo parlor said he'd be glad to do it."

"Why not?" Sam shot back. "Boys have pierced just about every other hole you have."

Beth giggled and stuck out her tongue at her pal. "I happen to like boys, Sam," she teased. "You don't seem to have even noticed they exist."

"Oh, I've noticed," Sam replied with a shake of her long blonde pony tail. "And I've tried a few. I just haven't found one who's worthy of me."

Tracy consulted an address scribbled on a scrap of note paper. "I guess this is the place," the young sleuth said uncertainly. "At least, this is the address from the phone book."

Looking down the dark and littered alley, Beth suddenly pointed. "Maybe that's it," she said. The girls followed her gesture and saw an unmarked metal door set into the ragged brick wall and flanked by rusted trash cans. As the girls watched, the door swung open. A delivery man emerged, dragging his dolly after him, and made his way to a paneled beer truck parked at the other end of the alley.

"Think they're open this early?" Sam asked.

"Well," Tracy said firmly, "if he could get in, so can we. Besides, Billy once told me he lives with his father in an apartment over the club. Even if it's before business hours, he might still be here."

Sam looked worried. "I've never been to a night club before. What if we get carded?"

Beth laid a reassuring hand on her chum's arm. "You just leave that to me," she grinned.

As it turned out, Sam's fears were justified. The three girls opened the unmarked door and entered a long, dimly lit hallway. To the right were a row of coat hooks, to the left a counter. And in between, completely blocking the corridor, hulked an enormous bouncer. "We're closed," he rumbled, raising his hands to further impede their progress.

Tracy sized him up. He was perhaps thirty-five years old and easily 350 pounds, a massive haystack of a man in a black dress shirt and pants. Gleaming black curls covered his head, and thick stubble carpeted his doughy cheeks. His eyes were invisible behind a pair of metallic sunglasses but, from the way his heavy brows hunkered above them, she guessed their expression was none too friendly. "You'll will have to come back later," he said in a voice like thunder. "If any of you have ID, that is."

"We're not here to party," Tracy said coldly, looking up into her own face distorted in the reflective lenses of the giant's shades. "We're friends of Billy's. We're supposed to work on a science project together." When this didn't seem to register, she rose up onto her toes and raised her voice. "You know, school? Homework? The project's due on Monday!"

The hulk hesitated, and then checked a heavy Rolex strapped to his meaty wrist. "Okay. You got half an hour. If you're not out by then, I'll be coming back to get you."

He stepped aside and waved them on with a swipe of his enormous paw. Tracy and Sam scurried by, but Beth lingered. "You sure it's okay?" she chirped. "You don't need to frisk us or anything?"

The giant made a shuddering sound, whether a grunt or a chuckle Tracy couldn't be sure. Towering over Beth, he probed her bare navel with a hairy finger as thick as a sausage. "Huh," he thundered. "You I might have to check out. You ever been strip searched?"

Beth's shining eyes caught Tracy's, and she jerked her head toward the end of the hall meaningfully. "No," she said coyly. "But there's always a first time." Looking back up into the giant's face, she licked her lips and whispered, "I just hope you are very, very thorough."

Tracy was about to tell her friend that there was no need to create a diversion, that the bouncer had already given them permission to pass. But Sam gripped her arm and pulled her on, and she decided Beth knew what she was doing. The two girls turned tail on their friend and hustled to a second door at the end of the corridor.

What they saw on the other side of that door was a sharp contrast to the seediness of the entry they had just traversed. Club Sinn was a huge, cavernous space elegantly appointed and theatrically lit. A long oak bar stretched along one wall, small spotlights in the ceiling above glinting on highlights of glass and brass. Across the room was a small stage with a glittering black floor, empty except for a single stool. Around this platform on three sides were cozy booths, richly upholstered in black and violet velvet. Exposed brick, flickering candlelight, and touches of neon completed the décor. Tracy and Sam paused as the padded inner door settled shut behind them, hesitating as their eyes adjusted to the intimate and luxurious gloom.

At first the place seemed entirely empty. Then Tracy spied two people at a booth on the far side of the small stage, huddled over the table and speaking in hushed, urgent voices. From a class night her junior year, she recognized one of them as Billy's father, Max Conrahan, a balding ferret-faced man in shirtsleeves. He spoke sharply to a second man who had his back to the girls, poking at a thick manila file folder on the table between them with an angry forefinger for emphasis.

The two girls exchanged an uncertain look, and then began to make their way towards the pair in the booth. As they neared, Tracy could make out snatches of their conversation.

"I'm tellin' ya, if word of this gets out, we're finished. We'll lose our entire clientele!" Mr. Conrahan hissed. The man with his back to them said something in a voice too low for Tracy to make out, something that only infuriated the older man more. "Bullshit! What could we make, maybe twenty grand? Fifty? And, besides, I run a club. I don't do blackmail!"

They were quite close to the table in its pool of light, and Tracy was about to interrupt them to introduce herself when the door behind them suddenly crashed open. Three men in stocking masks leaped into the room and raced towards the booth, pistols held high in their gloved hands.

Mr. Conrahan started to rise and then, seeing the weapons, sank back onto his seat. His companion, to Tracy's surprise, didn't turn around or even flinch, remaining calm and motionless. The three intruders brushed past the girls and circled the booth menacingly. "Freeze, Conrahan," one rasped through his nylon disguise, pressing the muzzle of his pistol to his victim's temple. Mr. Conrahan complied, sitting very erect with his fingers splayed on the table before him.

Tearing her eyes away from this scene, Tracy looked fearfully back to the door through which the trio had burst. Where was the bouncer? she wondered. These armed and desperate men had to have come past him to get this far. Then a sudden realization shuddered down her spine: What had happened to Beth?

***

The moment Tracy and Sam disappeared through the door at the end of the corridor, Beth found herself literally swept off her feet. With no ceremony whatsoever, the hulking bouncer pressed himself against her. Reaching behind her and under her short pleated skirt, he placed his hands on her ass and effortlessly lifted her against his enormous belly. She instinctively wrapped her thighs around his midsection, and felt a thrill as her pelvis ground against his enormous gut. Beth had always thought of herself as a big girl, but compared to this guy she felt like a hood ornament on a Buick. His belly and hips were at least two feet wider than her own, and as she spread her legs as wide as they would go, the sheer mass of him was enough to get her juices flowing.

As she clung to him, he turned and slammed his full weight against her, pinning her to the wall. She reached up to grip a pair of coat hooks and pressed her pussy against his stomach as he worked his lips against her own. She opened her mouth wide and sucked his fat and fleshy tongue, his stubbled jowls burning her cheeks. For the first time in her long sexual career, she felt a flash of fear. To a guy this big, she thought, nailing a girl my size would be like jerking off with a washcloth.

But it was far too late to turn back now. She felt his hands pressing into the flesh of her ass, spreading her as his weight pinned her breathless against the wall. "You gonna fuck me baby?" she cooed with a bravado she didn't exactly feel. "You gonna fuck me hard?" He grunted and shifted his grip, one massive paw supporting her ass now, the other reaching beneath her. A second later and she heard the snicker of his zipper, and then both hands were holding her again. The jagged fingernails of one scored her ass cheek as he swept her thong aside. She clenched her eyes shut and braced herself for the onslaught.

What happened next she could only describe as a freight train entering a gopher hole. In one long, relentless stroke he was inside her, impossibly long and thick, impaling her tight, soaking pussy on a rod of iron. She clutched his shoulders and pressed her face into his shirt front to muffle her howl of pain and pleasure. Gripping his sides with her knees, she felt her hips pop as his cock churned its way to the depths of her aching cunt, stretching her harder and wider than she had ever been stretched before. She gripped the coathooks above her and arched her back against his thrust to take him deeper still. He responded with a second, savage push that penetrated, she was convinced, into her very womb. "Yes, baby," she wheezed. "Fuck me. I can take it. Fuck your little slut!"

Pinning her to the wall with his chest and gut, he gripped her hips and repeatedly drove his cock up and into her gaping hole. Her head was pummeled against the cinderblock behind her as she felt her pelvis open to his assault. She couldn't move and didn't have to; her only purpose was to withstand the titanic thrusts that swelled from beneath her up into her jiggling belly. She pressed her clit against his turgid cock and moaned a rising melody of lust over the rhythm of his deep, rumbling grunts. "Who's yer daddy"" he gasped, dollops of sweat raining from his face onto hers. "Who's yer fuckin' daddy?"

And then the slut talk poured out of her, her voice taut and constricted with exertion: "You're my daddy, baby, you're my big daddy. I'm your slut, your bitch, your whore. Fuck your little girl, daddy," she cried, her voice shrill with a new urgency. "Use your slut! Make her take you deep!"

The behemoth raised his streaming face to the heavens, eyes clamped shut and mouth gaping, and attacked her with renewed vigor. Her thighs were limp now, her legs splayed and jerking loosely to the shocks of his repeated pounding. He's fucked me into submission, she thought – now he's gonna cum in his bitch and finish the job. Her own climax was fast approaching; she felt it building as he squeezed her harder against the wall. His balls flicked at her asshole, his heavy sack kissing it with the promise of a truly torrential load. At this rate, she knew, they would come together, and that realization alone was enough to send her over the edge.

Oh, my God, she thought through a crimson haze, I am totally his slut! He is gonna mark me like his little -"

And that's when the outer door swung open, shattering the moment with a sudden glare of daylight. Stunned, she was dimly aware of others in the narrow corridor, all in black, facial features grotesquely distorted under tight nylon masks. She felt the mountainous bouncer stiffen against her, not with pleasure, but with the realization that something was terribly, terribly wrong. His massive head turned to see, but it was too late. Beth heard and felt a thud connect to the base of his neck, caught a glimpse of a heavy pistol in a gloved hand landing the blow above her. Then, to her horror, the bouncer's eyes rolled back into his head, the huge body to which she clung turned slowly away from the wall, and she felt herself falling backwards, the insensate giant over her like a sequoia toppling in the forest. A brilliant light flashed behind her eyes as she crashed into the floor, the bouncer landing on top of her with his full, dead weight. The impact drove his cock a final quarter inch into her sore and grasping pussy, and her orgasm exploded convulsively even as her consciousness slipped away.

If nothing else, she thought through the encircling murk, I'm dying happy.