Angela Pearson: There_s a whip in my valise

"Yes, isn't it?" said the blonde. "Will you forgive me if I speak to my friend in Swedish? I find it rather a strain to go on in German."

"Of course. Please do so."

"Do you speak Swedish yourself?"

"Unfortunately not."

The blonde crossed her legs. "Fortunately," she said in Swedish, "not unfortunately. What do you think of him?"

"Very nice," said the red-head. "Young, tall, handsome. Yes, nice."

"Very nice indeed," said the blonde, drawing her breath through her lips. "I want him." The red-head turned quickly in her seat. "No! For God's sake,-get a hold on yourself. Don't be stupid. This is our ride to Kiel, without any further trouble."

"I want him," repeated the blonde stubbornly. She drew the pistol out of her pocket and covered it on her lap with her hands.

"Are you completely off your head?" said the red-head angrily. "Put that thing away. Do try to control your damn nymphomania!"

"I want him," said the other again. She spoke in a voice that was almost without expression. "And you can do to him the things that you like doing."

"I don't want to do anything to him at all."

"Don't you? What about that lovely whip in your bag that's crying out to be used? And what about the dildo?"

"You really are absolutely mad! Don't you remember? You told him where we're going. You told him we're going to Per Petersen's house to see Margarete."

"So what? Don't you want to use your lovely whip?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake! I couldn't now, even if I did want to. He knows who we are."

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't know anything about us, except that we're friends of Margarete. And that doesn't prevent us having him, does it?"

Wilhelm Franz-Ruller cleared his throat. "You seem to be quarrelling." He took out his cigarette case. "Do you smoke?"

The red-head took two and handed one to the blonde. "Thank you. No, we're not quarrelling. We're just having a difference of opinion."

He produced his lighter. His eyes were on her jacket as he lit her cigarette. She passed it to the blonde and took back the unlighted cigarette. She tent her head again to light the second cigarette. "That's a very beautiful coat," he said.

"Thank you," she said, and smiled suddenly. "But I wonder why you say so. There's nothing very special about it. It's just a leather jacket."

"It's a very beautiful one," he said. He wished he could run his hand over its surface.

She stared quizzically at him. Then, slowly and deliberately, she put her hands flat upon the surface of the jacket above her breasts. She let them remain there for a moment and then she drew them downwards towards her stomach. "If you don't look where you're going," she said, "we're going to have a nasty accident." His eyes had been fixed upon her for some seconds.

He jerked his head back to the road.

"Fortunately," she said, "it's a fairly empty road. But you must keep your on eyes on it-and not on my jacket." She paused for a moment. "Have you a fetish for leather?"

He seemed to swallow. "A fetish for leather? No, of course not. What do you mean?"

She chuckled, and turned her head to the blonde. "All right," she said, in Swedish. "I'm with you, you nymph! Let's have him, and to hell with everything else."

"I was hoping you'd see reason," said the blonde coolly. "But I don't understand why you change your mind just because he's got a fetish for leather."

"Nor do I. But I'm all for it now."

The blonde uncovered the pistol that had been hidden in her hands. "And what about all your objections because he knows who we are?"

"As you said, he doesn't know who we are."

"Exactly. And Margarete can't be made to suffer for what her friends may or may not do."

"No, of course she can't." The red-head seemed to tremble suddenly. "How are we going to do it?"

The blonde said: "You just leave it to me." She raised the pistol in her right hand and put its muzzle lightly to the ear of the driver. "Do you feel this?" she asked, in German. "Don't turn round."

He turned round immediately, as he felt the cold steel against his ear.

"I said that you must not turn round," said the blonde. "Look in front of you. Do you want us to have an accident?"

"What do you want?" he said, his voice showing the fear that had struck to his bowels at the sight of the gun.

"Just do as you're told, and everything will be all right."

"But, damn it all!" he began to bluster. "You can't get away with-"

She pressed the pistol harder against his ear. "Just do as you're told."

There was a silence for a few moments. Then: "If you want money," he said, "I'll give you what I have. I'll give it quite willingly. But do please put that pistol away. It makes me nervous."

The red-head laughed. "That's very nice of you. But we don't want any of your money."

"The car, then?"

"Neither the car. What should we do with a car like this?"

"What do you want then?"

She cupped her hands to her leather-covered breasts again. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Now, in fact," said the blonde suddenly. "Turn off the road there at that lane on the left."

"Oh Christ!" murmured the man, and put his foot to the brake. He was remembering again the story of the Swiss business-man. But these were girls, he told himself. There must be some other reason for their wanting to turn into a side lane.

He swung the car into the lane, and proceeded slowly.

The blonde looked about her. "Yes," she said. "You see those woods up there on the left. Drive up there."

He began to feel sick with fear. "Why? Why do you want to go up there? What are you going to do?"

She chuckled. "What I'm going to do to you myself may be rather pleasant for you. You'll probably like it very much. What my friend is going to do to you is quite a different matter."

"What are you going to do?"

"I?" She drew on her cigarette. "I'm going to let you make love to me."

He turned his head again. "You can't be serious."

"Look in front of you. Yes, I'm quite serious."

"But you don't have to pull a gun on me to make me do that. It's a wonderful idea."

"Good. I'm glad you think so. But the gun makes sure of everything. I didn't want any argument. And a man sometimes does argue very stupidly when a girl makes a pass at him. He likes to be the big he-man and make the pass himself."

The red-head interrupted. "My friend, you see, is a nymphomaniac. Anything in trousers will do very well for her. The fact that you're presentable makes things a good deal better-but I don't think it would have made any difference if you'd been a dwarf."

"I see." He was silent for a moment. "She said you're going to do something different."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?"

"Whip you," said the red-head simply.

"What?"

"I'm going to whip you."

"Why?"

"I'm a sadist."

"Good God!" The fear, which had begun to recede, now flooded back. "'Good God! I've heard of women like you."

They had reached the edge of the woods.

"Drive off the road," ordered the blonde, "and find some secluded spot."

"But," he protested, "look at that ground. It'll ruin the car. It'll break a spring or something."

"Not if you drive carefully. Go on. Do as I say. I don't want a car like this standing at the side of the road and bringing the whole countryside snooping around."

He looked for the most even surface, and slowly drove the car off the road. It bumped up a small incline and was soon inside the woods.

"Stop here," said the blonde. "This'll do very well." She held out her hand. "Give me the car-key."

He took the key from the dashboard and handed it to her silently.

"Thank you," she said, and opened her door. "Come on. Get out, and meet your fate." She looked at the red-head. "Why don't you tell him what else you're going to do to him?" She continued to speak in German.