John Romero - Coed camp

"Man, that was the greatest!" she exclaimed. "Let's hurry up and do it again."

"Woman, you've got to be kidding," Dan groaned.

She was, but only partly. Dan finally persuaded her that he didn't dare hang around too long. Something might happen in the cabin and he'd be exposed for being out. So after a while she let him go, after he promised to see her again very soon. Dan promised.

It was two or three days later that he waited for Marsha outside the dining hall after dinner and asked her about seeing her that night. It had been a long time, and she had still given him no indication that he should come by.

"Not now, Dan," she said, almost brusquely. "Maybe later."

Hurt, he let her go on and he wandered down toward the lake front. He had thought for a while that probably she was having her period, but as more and more time had passed, he couldn't figure what the problem was. Now he decided that she was getting all the cock she wanted, probably from Jerry Stein. To hell with her, he thought. He was getting all he wanted, too. But he had to admit that he missed Marsha very much, with her cool, sophisticated build-up, then the passionate, no-holds-barred finish.

He came up on Sonya, the solidly built swimming instructor, standing at the lake's edge and staring moodily out across the lightly rippling water.

"Hi, Sonya," he greeted her. "How's it going?"

To his dismay, she gave a surly grunt and turning, walked away from him. He stared after her in angry surprise.

What the hell is going on around here? he asked himself.

The next day the word quickly spread that Mona-Mrs. Culpeper-had packed hastily and left on a trip to Europe. Nothing more was said about her research in adolescent psychology. Dan noticed that Stein had a sour look on his rugged face.

After dinner Dan walked down to the waterfront again, not even trying to make sociable contact with any of the other counselors. Only the Coles, Joe and Maisie, seemed to be their normal amiable selves. He walked out on the boardwalk to the diving float and stood there, looking over the lake. He noticed that somebody was getting ready to take one of the light rowboats. That was against rules, this time of day. He looked more closely and saw that it was Buddy Young. He shrugged-then looked again.

A small figure was climbing into the stern of the boat and sitting down on the after thwart. Buddy took his seat amidships, fitted the oars into the rowlocks and heaved away, expertly sending the boat scudding across the water. As Dan continued to stare at the boat pulling away from the shore, he saw that the small person in the stern was Pete Mordant. He was holding his oversized camera gadget bag in his lap.

Why in the world was Buddy taking the kid out for a boat ride, Dan wondered. He watched a while longer and saw that Buddy was pointing the bow of the boat toward the small island far out in the lake. A lot of waterfowl nested there, and it was supposed to be off limits to, campers. Somehow, Dan figured, Pete had conned Buddy into rowing him out there to take pictures of the nesting bird. He shook his head and forgot about it for the time being.

The next day after lunch, however, the scene-or part of it-came back to him with a bang. The kids from his cabin were all wandering around somewhere outside, just loafing until the next activity period at two o'clock. Dan sat on the edge of his bed, looking at a magazine.

"Hello, sir,"

He looked up into the face of Pete Mordant, The bug-eyed youngster seemed to be impaling him against the wall with his huge eyes of nondescript color. His pale face was a blank.

"Hi, Pete. What's up?"

Dan found the kid a trifle repulsive, but he forced what he hoped was a friendly grip.

"I want you to drive me into the village to see a movie."

"You what?" Dan stared at him. "Are you off your rocker? I can't take you in to town, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."

Pete's expression registered absolutely nothing, and his disconcerting eyes never wavered, His voice, too, was blank of emotion as he said, "I think you'd better, sir." From behind his back he brought forth an eight-by-ten photograph and held it up for Dan to see. It was in very human color. Dan's eyes bugged out almost as far as Pete's as he stared at the picture of red-haired Carol, naked, astride him on a blanket, and a look of unutterable bliss on her small freckled face as she rode up and down on his stiff cock, a considerable section of which was visible in the photo.

He tensed to grab the picture out of the kid's hands, but the uncanny youngster read his mind. "I've got other copies and the negative," he said calmly. "Maybe Mr. Culpeper would like to see this, and maybe Carol's parents, Maybe even your own parents. I have the Connecticut address."

"You little devil!" Dan gritted through clenched teeth. "I ought to break every bone in your body."

"I have the negatives-well hidden," the bug-eyed kid repeated stolidly. "Shall we go into the village now?"

Dan knew he was trapped. "I've got to check in with Mr. Stein first," he grunted, masking his feelings as best he could. This was going to be a rough problem, he saw, and it would be best if he played poker with a poker face.

"I'll wait here," Pete said calmly.

Dan started to go out the door, then he turned back. "Maybe I'd better take that along, so Stein can see what's up."

To his surprise, the boy handed him the picture. Dan shoved it under his T-shirt and into the waistband of his shorts. Then he hurried over to the main office. He had known Stein for three years now, and he knew the coach liked him personally. So it would be best to just lay out the problem before him. Maybe Stein would know how to handle the little devil. He walked into the office.

The director sat behind his desk, his crewcut graying head in his hands. He looked up as Dan approached, and Dan was astonished at the look of despondency on the older man's face.

"I've got a hell of a problem, coach," Dan said.

Stein showed no surprise, but waited.

"A kid in my cabin, Pete Mordant, wants me to take him in to the village to a movie. Says if I don't, he'll show this in the right places." And Dan pulled out the photo and tossed it on the desk in front of Stein.

To his astonishment, the director showed no surprise. Instead a cynical grin lifted a comer of his mouth. "You too, eh?," he said. "Join the club." He opened a drawer of the desk and pulled out a similar size photo and tossed it in front of Dan.

Dan stared. The picture was a color shot, just like his, and equally clear and detailed. It was an action shot of Mona Culpeper, her lushly curved body completely naked and bent over the desk in the office, while Stein, also naked, screwed her dog-fashion.

He looked back at the grim face of his coach, and he began to understand why everybody was so irritable and impolite lately. And why Mrs. Culpeper had suddenly taken a trip to Europe.

'The kid's damn good, isn't he?" Stein said wryly.

"The little bastard!" Dan exclaimed.

"He's a little genius," said Stein, "just like Maisie Cole said. And except for the Coles who apparently only screw each other, he's got us all by the balls-or the cunts, as the case may be. We're all waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, he's not worked on all of us. Last night he got Buddy Young, today he gets you."

So that's what's wrong with Marsha, Dan reflected. And that's why Sonya growled at me. He's got pictures of them, too.

"So what do I do, coach?" he asked.

Stein shrugged his burly shoulders. "Do what he says. Meanwhile, we'll have to cook up some way to get those negatives away from him, short of murdering him. And until we do, keep your pants zipped up."

"Okay." Dan started to leave.

"Oh, Dan," Stein said, "tonight, at midnight, come up here for a conference. Come on in through that door, and into my bedroom inside there," he pointed to the door behind him. "We won't turn on lights until we're all here, and then it'll just be a candle. Be careful, son."