Unknown - Lesbian runaway

Now that he was unplugged from her, Kelly was free.

Free, that is, to slump forward and collapse on the bed.

She lay motionless on her belly, smears shining on her bottom, which quivered and twitched from the after effects of the raping.

Dan Waxer rolled off the bed, grunting as he leaned forward to pull up his shorts.

His cock was now semi-erect, red, shining, twitching.

He smacked Kelly very hard on her ass.

"You rest now," he laughed, "and think about what else I'm gonna do to you! I've had you all three ways now: in your mouth, your cunt, and your ass!"

Chuckling, he went downstairs and locked the attic door.

He held all the cards – so he thought.

When next he returned, some hours later, it was night.

He carried a tray, which held a bowl of soup, glass of milk, some bread slices.

He had a little surprise for Kelly.

He had pissed in the soup.

He would watch her drink it, and see if she noticed what he had done. If she failed to discover it, he would inform her.

It should be a laugh riot to see her reaction to that information!

As it turned out, Kelly had all the laughs this round.

She had planned a little surprise of her own.

Suspecting nothing, Dan Waxer unlocked the attic door and climbed the stairs, holding the tray in both hands.

As his head reached the top of the stairwell, he frowned.

Kelly was not in bed!

Did the little fool think she could hide from him in this small attic?

A flash of pink motion caught his eye.

Kelly squatted over the stairwell, pinkly naked, clutching an old discarded lamp by its neck in both hands, raising it high.

The lamp was one of the many pieces of junk stored in the attic. It had a long thin neck, and a weighted marble base.

There was a flashing instant, as the lamp descended with all the force she could put into it, square on Dan Waxer's head.

He didn't even have time to cry out.

There was a soggy squishing sound as the lamp base slammed his skull.

Pole-axed, he stood there frozen, making strange gurgling noises.

The tray slipped, spilling its contents down the stairs.

Kelly slammed the lamp down again. This time, she hit him so hard that the marble base of the lamp shattered.

To say nothing of his skull.

He toppled backward, crashing down the stairs to fall in a heap at their base.

Lithe, a naked avenging fury, clutching what was left of the lamp, terribly scared, Kelly darted down the stairs.

Dan Waxer lay motionless, his head twisted at a crazy ankle of a sort which unbroken necks are quite unable to manage.

Kelly thought he was dead – but that didn't stop her from slamming his head again, and again, and again with the lamp.

When she finally halted, there could be no doubt: Dan Waxer was stone dead.

And now, escape!

"Feel better now, dear?"

"Oh, yes – much!" Kelly replied.

Mrs. Claudia Moravia hovered solicitously over the girl, who, wrapped in a robe much too large for her, huddled on the big bed.

Kelly held a cup of hot tea in both hands and sipped from it.

Claudia Moravia was a buxom, middle-aged divorcee with darkly handsome Mediterranean good looks and a lushly voluptuous physique.

She was in her middle forties. Thick dark black hair, full and curly, was worn in an elaborate coiffure pinned, to the top of her head.

Her face was round, heart-shaped, with a softness at the chin and cheeks.

She had cream colored skin, dark arched brows, warm expressive brown eyes which glimmered with sympathy as she gazed at Kelly.

Sympathy, yes – and something more.

She had a fine Roman nose and wide red lips. She was of medium height, about five and a half feet tall.

Kelly was some inches taller than the woman who had taken her in and sheltered her.

Claudia was dressed for bed. She wore a long black robe, unbelted and open, over a black satin slip with lace trimmings.

She was voluptuous in the extreme, with abundant fleshy assets, and breathtaking hourglass curves.

Her heavy breasts were melons of flesh which filled the lace cups of her slip, causing the shoulder straps to press deeply into her flesh.

The points of her nipples were full and fat, outlined against the lace cups.

Her middle was full, but not fat, but her bosom and her hips were so wide that they made her waist look small by contrast.

The lace hem reached just above her knees. She had plump, thighs, shapely calves, and her surprisingly small feet were slippered.

Kelly could only thank her lucky stars for Mrs. Moravia.

Kelly was in a familiar location, to say the least.

Claudia lived in the same apartment building where Laurel had lived, just down the hall, as a matter of fact.

After doing in Dan Waxer, Kelly had dressed, thrown some clothes and her most valuable personal belongings into a bag.

There was little cash in the house, but she had her own special little nest egg, which had been well hidden from larcenous Dan Waxer.

It was a bitterly cold night, black and dark, but Kelly welcomed even the frosty chill after the nightmarish confinement in the attic.

Hard to believe that it was only Thursday night!

She was lucky, for nobody would miss Dan Waxer, and it would be days, perhaps a week, before his corpse was discovered.

Which should give her plenty of time to escape.

Where would she go?

Where else? To Laurel, of course!

But although Laurel's phone rang, no one answered it.

That frightened Kelly more than she dared admit.

If Laurel had been run out of town, how would Kelly find her?

How, indeed?

But Kelly was drawn across town, like an iron filing to a magnet. It took over two hours for her to reach Laurel's apartment building.

Kelly wearily climbed the stairs, her stomach churning. Many times on her long walk over, she had tried to reach Laurel by phone.

No answer…

Her fears seemed confirmed, when she reached the apartment and saw Laurel's apartment windows were dark, unlighted.

All the same, she went inside.

She trembled as she knocked on the door until her hand hurt.

Kelly was totally panicked, lost.

Her knockings on the door had a dull, booming sound, as though there was no one and nothing inside.

What would she do now?

Maybe she should turn herself in to the police before the body was found and the hunt for her commenced.

They would have doctors who could tell if she had been raped or not, and she would be able to plead self-defense, and…

Even as Kelly's mind picked over her limited options – all equally unpleasant – a new factor entered the picture.

The door on the opposite side of the hall opened, and a head was cautiously stuck out into the hall – the head of a woman.

"Psssst!"

Kelly was startled to realize that the woman was signaling her.

"Yes, you," Claudia said, "come here, dear!"

Warily, Kelly approached the stranger.

Claudia asked, "Do you know who lives – lived – in that apartment?"

"Yes… Laurel Wilson."

"Are you Kelly?"

Kelly said nothing.

"Come on, girl, don't delay! Are you Kelly? You must be!"

"How do you know?" the girl asked suspiciously.

After all that had happened and been done to her in the last week, Kelly was determined to be nobody's fool from now on.

"Because I'm a friend of Laurel's, too," Claudia said, "and I have a message for Kelly Kane from her!"

"I'm Kelly!"

"Yes, I was sure you were – I've seen you here before. Come in, girl!"

Kelly entered the apartment. It was richly, ornately furnished in Italian Provincial, with much overstuffed furniture and bric-a-brac.

Claudia closed the door and locked it.