Robert Taylor - Whipped bitch

As Janey rushed past her, she chopped the whip down and cut a streak across the woman's skinny thigh.

Without stopping, she tore open the door and ran out, yanking it shut behind her. In the hall she ripped off her mask and belt, zipped down the boots, kicked out of them in the costume closet. She snatched up her ribbon skirt and rushed out putting it on over her head.

Back in the club, she knew she must waste no time, yet she had to appear normal.

She forced herself to stroll nonchalantly past Barbara, whose back was turned, down the aisle between tables.

The place was full, and more people were coming, shaking rain water from their coats and closing umbrellas.

Janey helped a woman take off her raincoat and a broad-brimmed plastic hat. She carried them to the cloakroom. Then with frantic haste she put on the coat – too tight in the shoulders – and the hat. Seeing a pair of woman's boots standing under the rack, she put them on. Too big, but better than barefoot in the rain.

Then she walked slowly, bending the hat brim down over her face, to the front door. More clients were arriving. She ducked in among them and suddenly she was outside.

A howling wind drove rain into her face.

Janey started running.

She was in the parking lot dodging through a bewildering array of cars, deafened by the drumming of rain on their roofs.

She trampled into a puddle, splashing icy water up under her raincoat to her thighs, and she realized that under the thin coat she wore only her ribbon skid. But she was free!

To the left, at the end of the parking lot, she saw the revolving turret of a police car, glaring red through the rain.

She ran, panic-stricken.

Janey found concrete underfoot. The highway!

Far to the left she saw twin pinpoints of light, a car headed toward her, still distant. Glancing back, the neon glow of the Palm Cove Topless helped orient her.

She crossed the highway and as her eyes became used to darkness, she saw the rolling of breaking waves. The beach. She moved toward it, on sand now. Brush loomed ahead. She circled it to the brightness of sand. Ahead, palm trees bent before the wind. She trudged through deepening sand to the water's edge and gazed at the storm waves breaking a hundred yards out. The white froth looked as tall as a house.

She was here at last, on a palm-shaded white beach such as she had dreamed of at home. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Her ass still stung from the drunken woman's whiplash. Well, she had paid Burt for that, laid a stripe across his face, bloodied his nose. She turned back toward the Topless, saw the red police turret moving out to the highway. Afraid the headlights would spot her, she jumped behind a palm. It bent before the wind, creaking, the fronds above clattering together loudly.

She stuffed her hands into the raincoat pocket. In the right one she found a tube of lipstick and some bills. Money! Drawing them out, she angled them toward the neon lights. They looked like tens but she could not be sure.

She left the palm tree and went to the patch of brush. Head high. Thorny stuff. She moved through to where she could see the highway and parking lot.

The police car was off to her left, racing northward on the coast highway. Headlights came toward it, continued past toward Janey. Abruptly the police car made a U-turn and wheeled in on the track of the other car, both headed her way now.

The car's directional light blinked, about to turn into the Topless. The police car increased speed, overtook, forcing the first vehicle off the road fifty feet from Janey's patch of brush.

They stopped and she heard a shout, "Orvil? That you, Orvil?"

Orvil's pickup truck!

She saw the driver's window open, and Orvil leaning out. "It's me all right. What's up?"

From the police car came the shout, "Ribbon Girl slipped out. Name of Janey."

"Her! I brought her here. Big tits…"

"That's the one. We're calling in all cars. Unless she gets wheels and takes to the back roads, we got her. Those back roads, Christ, an army couldn't find her, right? So we'll patrol the highway, and in a couple minutes another car will be here to check all those parked cars, make sure she don't climb into the back of one. Ten minutes we should have enough men to comb the beach. You go patrol south."

"Hell," Orvil said. "I'll check the beach right now, get myself the runaway reward."

"Might be she's trying to make apron. But we can't count on it. You go patrol south."

With that, the police car started up, U-turned and raced northward.

Janey frowned. What did they mean, make apron?

Orvil climbed out of the pickup. He flicked on a flashlight, a powerful beam that cut right through the rain. He strode past Janey's concealment.

She heard the murmur of his car motor. He had left it running! Key in the ignition. She had wheels!

When he was out of sight, she squeezed out of the brush, ran around the truck, quietly opened the door and climbed up to the driver's seat.

She almost cried out in joy. She had wheels, would find a back road and drive all night if she had to. The cab was warm, the heater on. She tore the bills from her pocket and held them to the dashboard light. Three of them, twenties, not tens!

She saw Orvil's flashlight, distant now.

She eased the car into gear. What did they mean, make apron?

She thought of Grace. Dear Grace, left behind.

And suddenly she knew. She started off. She saw the flashlight swing her way, then come jiggling wildly toward her as Orvil broke into a run toward the moving pickup.

She laughed. Fuck you, Orvil!

I can take your truck and leave it somewhere in a ditch, drive it into a pond, you bastard! Or simply drive away a hundred miles – needle shows plenty of gas – safely out of the county and Mrs. Claymore's network of police and sheriffs men – and buy a bus ticket home.

But she did not. She wheeled into the Palm Cove drive, kept to the left of the parking lot, around the building to that single light over the doorway that had no doorknob on either side, only a keyhole within.

She stopped there and took the ignition keys.

Out of the truck, she hurled the keys off into the darkness, went and rang the bell beside the door.

She heard the chimes, and shortly the door opened. Akito stood there. She removed the plastic rainhat to show her face, then stepped inside.

He signaled for her to go in to Mrs. Claymore's office, remained behind to shut the door.

Mrs. Claymore sat at a desk with a phone to her ear. Seeing Janey, she pressed her hand to her heart and sighed deeply. Into the phone: "Call it off. My precious Janey just walked in."

Janey took off the raincoat and hung it over a chair, saying, "Well, I came back of my own free will. I want my rights."

The woman nodded. "Yes, you've learned the secret." She rose and went to a cabinet, opened a drawer and took from it a gold apron attached to a chain. "I'll put it on for you, precious."

Janey pushed the ribbon skirt down her hips, dropped it to the floor. Mrs. Claymore slipped the chain about her waist, clasped it, and arranged the apron to hang over her pubes.

"There! I'm so pleased to have you as apron, Janey. I know you'll do well. Look, you could take the evening off, if you want. I'll get you some clothes – loan you a car…"

"I'd rather, if the weather clears up, go to the beach tomorrow."

"Of course, but sweetheart, be careful! I don't want your lovely body burned lobster-red! The sun can be strong even in winter. Darling, I'm so happy you figured it out, that an Apron Girl must want to be here with us. Now, you've had excitement enough for one evening. Go to your room, if you wish – or swim in the pool – you can send for Grace if you want to make love…"