The Storytellers Ch. 06byParis Waterman©
Getting Settled in LA
I killed an hour at a friendly bar waiting for Belva to get home from work. I was sitting on her stoop when she turned the corner and saw me waiting. I received a wave that promised more than a simple hello, and quickly got to my feet and ran up to her, lifted her off her feet and half carried her up the steps and into the vestibule of her apartment.
I had to release her to let her get the key out of her purse, but I was sporting a gigantic woody and rubbed it against her ass, causing her to drop the key. When she bent to pick it up, I moved in and poked her sharply with my harpoon. Giggling with pleasure, she told me I had better stop for a minute before a neighbor came in on us.
"Would that be so bad?" I asked playfully.
"No, but it would mean you might get sloppy seconds. I can't alienate my neighbors."
I was shocked by her language, but recovered enough to reply, "What if it's a female neighbor?"
She purred out a sexy giggle. "That might prove interesting, wouldn't it?"
That gave me pause for thought. Could I possibly handle two women like Belva? I had strong doubts about it, Belva was plenty enough for me and I told her so.
"Good answer," she chirped and gave me a deep kiss. I made my way over to her liquor cabinet and made us both martinis. We settled onto her couch and relaxed with her body nestled against mine. Somehow her hand found its way inside my shirt and gently stroked the hair on my chest. I gulped the rest of my drink down when her hand moved lower dragging her lacquered talons across my stomach in the most intimate fashion.
In our fooling around I soon found my arm draped over her breasts as we kissed. It was difficult, but I managed to open several buttons and got my hand inside her C-cup. Belva chided me, saying I was a "Naughty Boy!" But the word "No" was nowhere in evidence, and so I began twiddling her rapidly stiffening bud and heard her moan her appreciation.
Our tongues searched each other's mouth and Belva's hand wandered farther down, rubbing and squeezing my rock hard dick. I shifted my hips, more or less presenting my manhood for further inspection. I heard but didn't feel the zipper of my fly moving downward and a breath of cool air floated over my suddenly exposed dick, and then Belva's fingers made their way through my nest of pubic hair and wrapped themselves around my throbbing shaft.
Belva broke away from the kiss and whispered, "Ohh, Roy, you horny dog! Is that for me?"
"For as long as you want it, baby," I replied as she squeezed the first drop of precum from its tip.
Playing tit-for-tat, I twisted slightly, changing my position so that my was free and moved it between Belva's legs, dabbing my fingers up and down the slippery furrow of her pussy. "Just being with you like this is enough to keep me continually hard. You're so sexy and you're pussy is so hot and slick, I don't think I'll ever be soft again."
Belva smiled her mischievous smile again and said, "I'm glad you brought lots of rubbers then. I intend to take complete advantage of the situation while we have the chance. And speaking of chance, right now seems like the perfect one: you're hard and horny, my hole is hot and needs plugging in the worst sort of way, so what say we see if we can use all those rubbers before we call it a night?"
The implication of what Belva had said sunk into my brain and ran straight down to my cock. It jerked in Belva's hand in response not only to her stroking but at the thought that in seconds I would be plunging into the het of her wet sheath.
By way of answer, I sat up on the side of the bed and reached down to the floor and took several condoms from out of my pants pocket. I lay down on my side and showed them to her. She took one out my hand and tore the cellophane wrapper from off it.
"I'm sorry to make you have to wear this, but I'm right between periods and figure I'm fertile as a turtle. Maybe a couple of weeks from now, when I'm in my safe period, we can screw skin-to-skin. If you wouldn't mind getting a red dick, we could even do it doing my period. It's kind of sloppy, I know, but I like getting it then. Not having to worry about getting pregnant makes it especially good for me."
God, if she only knew! I would have worn an inner-tube if necessary to get back in her pants! I would have wrapped my dick in layers of cellophane if I needed to. It didn't matter to me; I just wanted to get my prick in her pussy.
I kept things simple and said, "That's okey-doke with me."
"Let me put it on you," Belva said. "I just love putting rubbers on guys."
It was the first time I wondered just how many guys she'd done this with. I closed my mind to the thought, telling myself that there had been a war going on, and she was performing her patriotic duty; at least as she saw it.
She put the condom on the head of my penis and slowly rolled it down until its hard circle of elastic fit snugly at the base of my shaft.
"There," she said, "it's all dressed up in a shiny new raincoat."
Stroking my dick up and down, Belva giggled and said, "You look like you're ready for action − let's see if we can give that rubber a good work-out."
I got on my knees and scooted up between Belva's thighs, wedging them apart as I did so.
"Wait just a sec, Roy, let me get a pillow under me," she said, pulling a pillow down and putting it under her butt. Her pussy lips were gaping wide, glistening with the liquid evidence of her arousal. I moved up on my knees until the knob of my prick was lodged between those pouty labial lips then I stroked it up and down the slick furrow. Belva hunched her hips up toward me and I sank into her furnace.
I pumped twice and found myself buried in her gash. Another thrust and our groins met.
"Ahhh, yesssss! That's... the... right... place!" Belva growled, as she lifted her legs up and wrapped them around my thighs then squeezed tight.
"Oh, is that EVER the right place!"
I remained still for a few moments, reveling in the pleasure of her heat and tightness around me. When I resumed moving, I pulled the entire length of my shaft out of Belva's hot scabbard then drove it back again as hard as it would go. The force of the thrust drove her hips down to the bed, and I pressed my groin hard against hers, seeking to extend my entire sexual being inside the unbelievable pleasure of her womanhood.
Belva pressed back against me, and there was not even a millimeter of my penis that wasn't inside her. I felt as though my prick was a foot long and that it had penetrated into the very deepest part of her belly.
Belva had her eyes closed, a look of deep concentration on her face as if she were focusing all her mental energy on the coupling of our organs. As I pulled out, with just the tip of my prick still lodged inside her, she opened her eyes and said, "What school did you go too to learn that?"
"Brother, do I! Keep on doing me that way. I'm going to start coming soon. Please don't stop and don't you dare come first!"
I took both of Belva's legs and lifted them straight up and spread them apart. Her pussy was completely exposed to me in this position and I watched gleefully as my dick plunged in and out of her sex-pit.
The feel of Belva's tight pussy rubbing against my shaft was one thing -- and I really mean that − but being able to see the action of each stroke made it incredibly exciting. I laid her legs on my shoulders and put both hands down on her jiggling mound and kneaded them while she moaned and arched her back up to my hands, forcing more of the soft globes into my hands for their massage.
"Oh, yes! Yes! That's so good! I'm getting so close."
Only seconds before I had felt I could keep going all afternoon, but with Belva's reaction − her eyes were tightly squeezed together and her head was turning from side to side. Suddenly she opened her eyes and reached up for me, pulling my chest against her breasts. "Oh, God, Roy, I'm gonna come again!"
Belva's whole pelvic area went into spasms, grabbing at my prick as it plowed in and out. She grasped my waist between her thighs and squeezed hard. Her hips rose completely off the bed as she arched her back and pushed her pussy up to me and held it there. Except for the spasms that wracked her whole bottom half, Belva was motionless, thrust up against me. I knew she was peaking in her orgasm and that carried me over the edge and I spewed my load in her -- well the rubber, anyway.
I collapsed on top of Belva, limp and exhausted. Her legs fell from around my waist and nestled on the outside of mine then gently wrapped around mine and relaxed totally. About a minute later I rolled off and lay beside her, our bodies touching from toe to shoulder, reluctant even in the aftermath of our orgasms to break contact with each other.
Suddenly Belva moved completely on top of me and sat up, legs spread apart and her ass on my stomach. The juice from her spread-wide pussy coated my belly and made it feel slippery-nasty and very erotic.
"Roy, baby, just when are you going back to Chicago?"
That caught me completely off-guard. "What?"
"Be straight with me, Roy. Are you bailing out on me?"
"Belva, I've no intention of hitting the silk on you."
"Your job is in Chi-town, you've been gone how long now?"
"Almost three weeks, but...."
"No buts, baby. You've got a job there, don't you?"
I hesitated before answering her. The truth was I didn't know if I still had a job with the Trib.
"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't."
"You really don't know, do you?"
"No, Belva, I don't."
"Then you better get some threads on and make a call. Things are still hopping back there."
She had me cornered, so I did what red-blooded American men have done since revolutionary times. I followed her advice, got dressed and strolled down to the corner bar and made the call.
I got McGriff at the City Desk. He transferred me over to Shaunnessy, my so-called boss.
"Who's dis," he yelled into the phone.
"It's Roy Shannon, boss. I'm calling to ...."
Shaunnessy interrupted me. "I ain't your boss, Shannon. As far as I know, you ain't got a boss here at the Tribune. Kozak fired your lame ass last week. I tole ya not to dawdle in La La Land wit all dem fairies and movie pitcher stars. So your job hunt didn't pan out. Too fuckin' bad, Shannon, Too fuckin' bad."
He hung up on me and I cursed myself for not having called back sooner. Perhaps if I'd told them I was coming back ... No, neither Kozak or Shaunnessy had ever liked me enough to give me that kind of benefit.
I trudged back to Belva's trying to work out a plausible story to tell her. The last thing I wanted at the moment was to have her harp about my lack of a job. I made up my mind to make some calls around to the local papers. Maybe something was open, maybe.
The words were out of my mouth as Belva opened the door for me.
"I knew it, Roy. That's why I made you call them."
"Yeah, I was just whistling' Dixie, the whole time, I guess."
"Oh, Roy, sweetie, you couldn't have know the Black Dahlia was gonna be a dead-end."
"Maybe, maybe not. But I should have had a backup, an idea of what I was going to do if it didn't pan out."
"Don't you know some people here in town?"
"A couple. I'll call them later; see if they know of any openings."
Belva leaned over on me and gave me one of her soft, sensual kisses. It was slow and gentle, not hungry like her usual kiss.
My dick stirred. I was pleased to find that I still had some life in me. I shucked my threads, sat back down and pulled Belva onto my lap.
I started called people I knew at the evening editions. That drew a blank, although Mia Culpa, an editor who had left the Chicago papers for the sunnier climes of LA for health reasons, gave me two names to try on the afternoon and morning papers.
The following morning -- earlier than I ever expected to get up again after my military days -- I made the requisite calls. They were both cordial, but had nothing open. I heard the usual, "we'll keep you in mind," gave them Belva's phone number and went back to sleep as Belva was getting up.
Just for the hell of it, I went out to find a witness the LAPD had interviewed. I had been doing this to see if any disparities arose in the version they gave me and the one they gave the cops.
I had a late breakfast in a diner just off Wilshire Boulevard. There was a little plaque on the wall by my booth, as I read it I learned that Wilshire Boulevard was named after H. Gaylord Wilshire who was a socialist with a picture of Karl Marx hanging in his office. Wilshire started Wilshire Boulevard by carving a four block street out of a field he owned on what the boondocks of Los Angeles were then. The builders of the Gaylord Hotel / Apartments named the place after Wilshire without his permission. He promptly sued the builder and in settlement they offered him a room in the apartments for life (which he most likely never used since he died soon after the settlement).
I finished going over my notes on witnesses about the same time as my third cup of coffee. There was a luncheonette three blocks from where I sat where a waitress worked who seemed to have known Elizabeth Short. I left a fifteen cent tip, grabbed my fedora and hoofed it over there.
I was in luck, she was there, and after agreeing that I wouldn't use her name, opened up like a cluster of rosy-red four o'clock.
Most of what she had to say had been said before by several other witnesses, but there was this one part: "Last year (1946) I was going to high school and working part-time at Brittingham's on Sunset Boulevard near Columbia Studios. Elizabeth Short was a frequent customer. We knew she wasn't a hooker; she just didn't look the type. She was a woman of mystery, soft, feminine and fragile. People noticed her and wondered about her. She never laughed loudly. She always had this pale face, always wore black. I spoke to her a few times in the powder room, she seemed normal... you know, no different than me or you. There was a rumor that she was going with someone connected to Columbia Studios, someone named Mac or Max. Exact dates are hard to remember but it was around the time Orson Welles was shooting The Lady from Shanghai. He was one of the regulars."
Harry Hansen was in and willing to talk with me. I ran the waitress' story by him and he nodded several times. "Yeah, Roy, I interviewed her myself."
"Have any luck with what she had to say about that certain someone at Columbia?"
He laughed and said, "There's 3,457 people work at Columbia, and that's only on the site, not out in the field, which is another 1200 or so."
I began to squirm.
"But I did check it out. I narrowed the personal down to the crews working on the Orson Welles flick, and The Jolson Story. Of course all we learned was what that prick Harry Cohn wanted us to learn, and not an iota more. I will tell you, although it's not for publication, the guy is capable of covering up the beginnings of World War III should he want to."
"So, I'm nowhere."
"Well," he said and paused, "You maybe nowhere, but you've got a lot of company."
"Shit!" I said, and Harry laughed. "Don't feel bad, you've got a check coming in every week, something else will turn up, it always does."
"I got canned by my paper. I took too long in developing nothing, Harry."
He shrugged, "So try the local papers, there's enough of them, you'll find something."
"I have, and I'm still looking."
"Ah, what can I say, life sucks and then you die." I got up, put on my fedora and shook his hand.
"Be seeing ya, Harry."
"Take care, Roy, don't quit on this, someone will find that clue that leads us to catch the sonofabitch."
I hope so," I said and headed for the nearest bar, which was only three doors down from Police Headquarters.
After my third beer I began reflecting on my life and life in general. I had come home from the war, snagged a good job with the newspaper and decided to write the great American novel. I wasn't unique in this. Some major changes were taking place in the good old USA. All too many Americans were not satisfied with their old ways of life. They wanted something better. And with the resurging economy, they were earning enough money to make a better life for themselves.
I was one of many. But how many had met an alien? And... Arthur's words floated back in my memory. "If you choose to write about... Bill Harbidge, you'll become famous enough."
What was it that he had added? Arthur had rewarded Harbidge by allowing him to take over the body and minds of... anyone he thought might prolong his playing days, or lifetime....
No, he had not added that. That was part and parcel of his story about Harbidge. He had added something about his name... "When you find him ..." this implied that I was capable of locating this man, this shape-shifter. "Call him Bill. No matter what, always call him by that name and no other. I am not at all sure that Bill has remained a good boy. I have serious doubts that he has used the power as I thought he would."
"Arthur, is Bill dangerous?" "Not to you, nor do you pose any real threat to him. Again, I see no reason to fear him as long as you call him Bill. Please, Roy, keep that thought foremost in mind when conversing with him."
The thoughts left my mind as I worked on my fourth beer and dealt with my immediate problem, finding gainful employment.
I left the bar, found a delicatessen and bought a half pound of corned beef and a loaf of rye bread for Belva and me to munch on for dinner.
Belva was cleaning the dishes and I was drying, in as cute a domestic scene as one might imagine, when the phone rang. Drying her hands with a dish towel, Belva answered and listened then held the phone out toward me.
"C'mon, handsome, it's for you," she said. I watched her eyes brighten as I walked toward her and took the phone from her hand. "Hello?"
"Mia.... Mia Culpa, over at the Times?"
"Hi Mia, what's the buzz?"
"You still need a job?"
"I do, I do. What's changed since this afternoon?"
"Harry Dalton was fired."
"I'm sorry; I don't know Harry, um...."
"He got drunk once too often. They were forced to let him go when he... um urinated on the lead editor's desk.
"Ruined his Begonia's huh?"
Mia laughed. "You might say that. So are you still looking?"
"Yes, I am."
"Why don't you amble on over here in an hour or so? I'll introduce you to the nice folks who do all the hiring and firing around here. They like to fill any vacancies as soon as possible."
"Mia, darling, I'm on my way. I don't know how to thank you."
"Flowers would be nice, but not Begonias."
We laughed and ended the call. Belva threw her arms around me and we hugged for a good five minutes. It might have been longer, but when Woody arose, Belva giggled and shoved me away.
"Not now! But for sure later. We have something to celebrate. What a turnaround!"