C Holliday - Her animal act

"Carlos is like a pollo," he said, laughing.

Jose glanced at him and grinned, nodding his head. He'd understood only two words – Carlos and chicken – but it was enough to give him the meaning of Pico's spoken thought. Still looking at Pico, Jose pulled too hard on the dresser drawer he was opening. It came completely out; and in his attempt to catch it before it fell to the floor, he overreacted and set the light drawer banging loudly against the wall.

Startled by the sudden noise, Paula jerked awake and sat up in bed. For a moment she didn't know where she was, and her heart beat faster as she glanced around the strange room in an effort to orient her sleep-dulled mind.

Then she relaxed, remembering all. Her parents were back from their night on the town. She could hear movement in their room. Wondering which one of those bright, wild paintings her father had bought, and wanting to kiss them both good night, she slid from her bed and slipped on her robe. She padded barefoot across the room and unlocked the connecting door, swung it open and went through it, rubbing her eyes. She was well into the room when she noticed the dark, lean man and the big muscular Negro looking at her. Gasping, she clutched her robe tightly around her neck and stopped.

Pico, thinking and acting very quickly, smiled and said, "You must be Paula."

"Yes," she answered, staring at him in utter confusion. "How did you know my name? What are you doing in here? This is my parents' room."

"Your parents," Pico said, stalling for time as his mind groped for a way to calm her and keep her from calling out.

Paula was much too young and naive to be as frightened as she should have been. She said. "Yes, my parents."

"Your parents… Ruth and…"

"Elliott. Ruth and Elliott Strickland."

"Yes. Strickland. I'm sorry I could not recall their full names."

"What are you doing with their things?" she gasped, just noticing what was going on. "Who are you?"

"Don't be alarmed, Paula," Pico soothed.

"But you're packing their things! What are you doing that for? Has something happened to them?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"An accident! They haven't had an accident?"

Smiling inwardly at the unintentional help she'd given him, but forcing his face to look concerned and serious, Pico nodded.

"Oh, no! What happened?"

"The taxi in which they were riding was struck by another car. Now don't become alarmed, Paula. Calm yourself, my child."

"They're hurt! How bad are they hurt? They're not dead… tell me they're not dead!"

"No, no, no," he said, moving to her and putting his hands on her quaking shoulder. "They are going to be fine. They are shaken up pretty badly though. They'll be in the hospital a couple of days. They are there now. That's why Jose and I are here… to take their things to them."

"I'm going too," Paula said.

"Of course you are, my child. I've arranged to have a bed for you put into your mother's room. She insisted on it."

"I'll get dressed, Mr…"

"Pico. Just call me Pico."

"You'll wait for me, Pico?"

"Certainly. And, Paula," he called, stopping her in the doorway. "Pack your things."

"All of them?"

He nodded. "Everything. You won't be coming back to this motel."

"I'll hurry."

"Please do."

Paula shut the door, not bothering to lock it now that she knew the men were there to help. She laid out the things she would wear, then got her suitcase and began packing.

Jose stood beside the bed, neglecting his duties, staring after Paula.

Pico noticed the gleam in his eyes, the lustful yet tender expression on his face. He also noticed the bulge in his trousers. A new act for the sex show put on nightly in his large whorehouse was immediately born in his mind. It would be a very erotic act, what with Jose so big and black and Paula so small and blonde. And so young and tender, too. A mock rape, he thought, smiling, pleased with himself as the scene unfolded in his mind. Or a real rape, if Paula wouldn't go along willingly with his idea.

At any rate, Jose would go along. He'd do anything Pico told him to do. Pico grinned. The act would be perfect to precede Ruth and the donkey waiting for her in the shed behind his place.

"Do you like the girl, Jose?" he asked in Spanish.

Still looking longingly at the door Paula had gone through, Jose nodded and motioned as if taking her in his muscular arms.

"Then you shall have her, my friend… every night."

Grinning broadly, Jose nodded and rubbed the growing bulge his massive prick was causing. He made sign language to indicate he wanted Paula all to himself.

"No, Jose. The girl will have to take care of customers too."

Jose looked disappointed but acquiescent.

"You can't keep her all to yourself. She will be very popular with the customers, especially the older ones. But when we are closed and there are no customers to pay for her, then you may have her."

Jose pointed to the bed. He pretended to hold Paula in his arms, shutting his eyes as if sleeping.

"Of course, my friend," Pico said. "Every night if you wish it."

Obviously very happy with the promised arrangement, Jose went eagerly back to packing Ruth and Elliott's things.

Fully dressed and ready to leave, Paula reentered the room, struggling with her heavy suitcase. Pico sat calmly in a chair, smoking a thin, black cigar. The packing finished, Jose was bird-dogging the door, waiting impatiently for it to open. Paula was barely into the room when he rushed to her and, smiling, took the suitcase from her hand.

"Thank you," Paula said, returning his smile as best she could in her worried state of mind. His face wasn't at all handsome, what with his broad nose and thick lips, but he seemed very pleasant and helpful. "I didn't get your name."

"His name is Jose," Pico said, rising.

"Thank you, Jose."

Jose beamed, smiling and nodding, looking directly into her blue eyes.

"He can't answer you, Paula. Jose is a mute, and he understands only Spanish."

"Oh, the poor man!" Paula gushed. "And he seems so nice."

Pico grinned. He picked up both suitcases and handed them to Jose, who put one under his arm so he could carry all three. Pico strode to the door and opened it, holding it and motioning Paula to come as Jose led the way. He offered his arm. Paula took it, switching her purse to her other hand and thinking how gallant Latin men were. Holding to his reassuring arm, anxious to get to her injured parents, Paula hurried along beside Pico as they crossed the motel parking lot.

"I feel so sorry for Jose."

Pico patted her hand, then locked his fingers through hers and led her on toward the waiting car.

Holding his hand was more reassuring than holding his arm. Paula squeezed it gratefully, half running now to keep up with his long-strided gait. "I hope my mother's face wasn't hurt. She's got such a pretty face."

"There's not a scratch on her face."

"I'm relieved to hear that… I really am. Just how bad are they hurt?" she asked as they drew near Carlos' car. "Were you in the wreck too? I saw your face was hurt."

"You ask too many questions," he said, stepping quickly behind her and clapping his hand over her mouth as he jerked her arm painfully and bent it up her back.

His action was fast; the pain sharp. For a stunned second Paula didn't understand. She whimpered and struggled, her feet off the ground and kicking the air. Jose had the door open. Paula's head bumped the top of the car as Pico stuffed her into the back seat. The impact addled her, made her dizzy and numb. She moaned softly as she hit the seat and fell against her father.

"Paula! Paula!" Ruth yelled shrilly. "Oh, my God… Paula!"

A loud splat sounded as Faustina slapped Ruth viciously. "Shut up, puta! Shut up or I'll kill you! Carlos! Open the trunk! Help Jose put the bags in… quickly!"