Well Now My Pretty

By now he had reached the promenade. He was conscious of looking out of place in his khaki shirt and slacks as a group of young people came towards him, wearing only bikinis and swimming trunks. He kept on, seeing that they looked at him. When he was clear of them, he took off his shirt and tossed it behind a tree. His gun bothered him. It wasn't easy to conceal. Holding it in his hand, down by his side, he kept walking. After some five minutes, he left the promenade and struck off across the sandy beach. Here, it was quiet and less frequented. He paused suddenly as he saw some hundred yards ahead of him a small sports car, parked under a palm tree. By it stood a girl, slipping a sweat shirt over her bikini.

Perry's evil blue eyes darted to right and left. There was no one near the girl. He moved forward.

He arrived by the car as the girl, now seated at the wheel, was slamming the car door shut. She looked up, startled as Perry appeared by her side.

"Hello, Toots," he said with his giggling laugh. "You and me are going for a little drive," and he rested the cold barrel of his gun against her cheek. "Get the photo?"

He couldn't see much of the girl, except her hair was long, wet and dark. The moonlight fell on her breasts, covered by a white sweat shirt, and he told himself she was quite a woman. Perry liked women. Even now, at the age of sixty-two, lust like a misshapen dwarf rode always on his thick shoulders.

The girl caught her breath sharply and Perry dug the gun barrel deeper.

"No fuss, chick," he said. "One little yap out of you and I'll blow your pretty face apart."

He opened the car door and slid into the passenger's seat. He waited a few seconds to allow the girl to recover from her shock, then he lowered the gun.

"Let's go . . . I'll tell you where."

With a shaking hand, the girl thumbed the starter and then engaged gear. She drove the small car off the beach and up on to the road that led away from the promenade.

She knew she was in deadly danger. This fat man, sitting so relaxed by her side, filled her with a nightmare terror. She drove automatically, unable to speak, her heart fluttering, a knotted ball of fear coiled like a spring inside her.

Perry said, "What's a pretty girl like you doing out on the beach alone?"

She said nothing. She could see the glint of the gun in the shaded dashlight, the barrel pointing at her body, and she shivered.

"You don't have to be this scared," Perry said. His continual giggle increased her fear. It was the most horrible sound she had ever heard. "What's your name, baby?"

Still she couldn't speak. Her tongue felt like a strip of dry leather in her mouth.

Perry put his hot, sweating hand on her naked knee. His touch made her shy away violently. The car swerved, mounted on the grass verge and then bounced back on the road.

Cursing, Perry put his foot across hers and stamped on the brake. The car jerked to a stop and the engine stalled. They were in this narrow road, overhung by trees. There were no villas. It was a road seldom used and leading eventually to the sea. The headlights of the car showed a long tunnel of darkness ahead of them. There was no sound, no movement.

Perry switched off the headlights. The tiny parking lights made a faint splash of yellow on the road. He took the girl by the nape of her neck and gently shook her.

"What's the matter with you, baby . . . scared of me?" he asked and giggled.

The girl's mouth formed into an O. Her sun-tanned face with its small features was grotesque with terror. Suddenly, as if the coil inside her had become released, she began to scream. Perry's thick fingers shifted around her throat and nipped the screams off. Then frantically, wild with panic, she began to struggle, beating his face and chest with her small fists, thrashing with her legs.

Cursing, Perry let his gun slip to the floor of the car so he could use his other hand to control her. She had no chance against his strength. His fingers tightened around her throat, his left hand holding her wrists. He choked her into submission. Then aroused by the contact of her slim, half-naked body, he leaned over her, opened the car door and shoved her out on to the road. She sprawled on the sandy surface, only half conscious as Perry got out of the car and knelt over her.

She was dimly aware that he was ripping off her sweater and her bikini. She became aware of a sharp stone grinding into her spine, but that was nothing to the pain when he thrust into her body, brutally and with animal violence.

Finally, his lust satiated, he heaved himself from her and stirred her with his foot.

"Come on, baby," he said impatiently. "This is for the record. Come on . . . up on your feet," then when she continued to lie at his feet, he reached down, twined his thick fingers in her hair, and hauled her upright. She collapsed against him, moaning, but he shoved her, naked, into the car, his hands sliding over her shivering body.