Sinners | Chapter 67 of 76

Author: Jackie Collins | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 1947 Views | Add a Review

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Chapter Fifty-Nine

The car stopped.

The voice warned, ‘Now just remember everything I’ve said. If you do as you’re told, you’ll be getting back in this car in a couple of hours. We’ll collect the boy and I’ll take you both home. If you don’t co-operate – well, you know what to expect. The boy’s life is in your hands.’

She waited silently for the voice to present himself. There was no point in trying to scream or run. If he had Jean-Pierre, she would just have to do as he said.

The door opened and she saw they were in a quiet street. Herbert’s eyes avoided hers as he took her by the arm and helped her out of the car. She was almost sure she had never seen him before.

He walked her silently up the pathway to a small shabby house and rapped sharply on the door.

A woman answered it, small and brittle in a green satin dress with loads of fake jewellery.

They didn’t speak to each other, but her eyes darted over Sunday inquisitively.

Herbert hurried her up creaking stairs into a bedroom, and quickly shut the door. He was breaking out in a sweat. His clothes felt too tight, his skin clammy. He longed for a shower.

He leant against the door. ‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, ‘and put that on.’ He nodded at a black robe lying on the bed.

She stared at him.

‘Get your clothes off,’ he snarled.

Slowly she bent and pulled her boots off first; then turning her back to him, she slipped off her trousers and chiffon top. Underneath she wore flesh-coloured panties and bra. She put the robe over her head.

‘Everything off,’ Herbert stated. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers.

‘Tell Claude the joke’s gone far enough,’ she said weakly. ‘I’ll finish the goddamn film, I’ll do it.’ She started to cry.

‘This is nothing to do with Claude – this is meme. Don’t you know who I am?’

‘What do you want from me? What have I done?’

‘Stop snivelling and take the rest of your clothes off. It shouldn’t worry a whore to take her clothes off.’

Slowly she pulled the panties off under the robe. He took them from her and stuffed them in his pocket.

She fumbled with her bra and he said, ‘Take the robe off. I want to see you naked.’

She wondered if he would kill her. He had such blank and evil eyes. She shivered uncontrollably. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

Take the robe off,’ he muttered. He felt stifled, enclosed. A vein throbbed in his throat. His eyes were glazed.

She lifted the robe over her head and faced him.

He stared at her, filled with hate. His eyes roamed shiftily over her naked body.

Then before it was too late, he commanded, ‘Turn round and don’t look back. If you look back the boy will die!’

She turned away from him, shutting her eyes in terror. Clenching her body in anticipation of what was to come.

He ripped open his pants, his hands clumsy in their haste, and with a low anguished groan he relieved his desire into her panties, which he snatched from his pocket.

He made no attempt to approach her. Let her wait, let her suffer a little in waiting for his touch.

She heard him fumbling with his clothes, and then the short anguished groan. She caught her breath in disgust. She knew what he had done.

And then she knew who he was. It was the maniac who had written her all those obscene letters. It had to be! And the voice – now she was almost sure it was the same voice that had muttered obscenities to her over the phone.

Herbert felt strong again. Once more he was in control. He glanced guiltily at his watch. Louella would be waiting.

‘Put the robe on and follow me,’ he said.

*    *    *

Charlie parked on the other side of the street further down from the Lincoln.

He watched Sunday as she was hustled into the faded little house by the chauffeur.

It was all very odd. Why would she leave a première halfway through to come dashing down to this place? Perhaps this was where her family lived. But vaguely he remembered Carey telling him that she came from South America and that her parents were dead.

It was none of his business, of course, and she would probably be embarrassed and upset is she ever discovered he had followed her. Yet maybe he ought to stay around for five minutes. There was something not quite right.

He lit a cigarette, and wondered at his sudden hang-up with Sunday Simmons. She was only another actress. Beautiful of course, but just the sort he had sworn to stay away from. Mmm . . . there was definitely something different about her. He wanted to see her, to get to know her, to spend time together.

Of course she probably wouldn’t want to know about him. She probably had every guy in Hollywood after her. Clay literally drooled whenever her name was mentioned.

He shrugged and decided to drive off, but he hesitated, because while he had been sitting thinking about her, nine men had gone into the house and there was another one arriving now.

What was it, a party? If so, where were the girls?

He decided to wait just a little bit longer.

*    *    *

Marge knew what it was all right. It was a circle-of-friends evening. She bit her pudgy nails and muttered under her breath.

Louella thought she was so smart-assed clever. And Herbert, the two of them plotting and planning to deprive her of her rights.

Well, they weren’t as clever as all that. It was her right to attend all circle-of-friends meetings. She had paid, hadn’t she? She was a member, wasn’t she? She would exercise her rights and join in.

The only problem was that she didn’t feel well. She had a nagging pain in her stomach, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She found a bottle of brandy and took a few deep swigs. Then she popped a couple more chocolates in her mouth to take away the taste. Her head was throbbing and she felt dizzy from the alcohol.

To hell with Louella and Herbert. She was on her way.

*    *    *

Herbert whispered sharply to Sunday. They stood outside a closed door in the hallway of the house.

‘Now remember, whore,’ he said, ‘not one word or the boy gets it. Just do as your told. I’ll be watching you all the time.’

She shivered, cold in the nearly transparent black robe.

He opened the door and they walked in.

The room was lit by long black candles, and all around stood naked men, naked except for masks covering their faces.

The woman who had let her in approached them with arms outstretched. She was naked too, with stringy breasts hanging down. ‘Welcome to the “circle of friends”, my dear.’

Sunday shrank back as she tried to embrace her, and Herbert dug her sharply in the back.

Louella took her by the hand and led her over to what seemed like a board, covered with black velvet and propped against the wall. It was surrounded by black candles and reminded Sunday of a coffin.

The atmosphere was horribly weird – all the silent naked men in the flickering half-light, with Herbert hovering, still fully dressed.

‘Divest yourself of your robe, my dear,’ Louella said soothingly. ‘Take off your clothes and you take off sin.’

Almost in a daze she allowed the robe to be pulled off, and then Louella and a man assisted her on to the board, where she lay.

Louella murmured some kind of chant. The men repeated it after her.

She dipped into a pot of black cream and rubbed it on Sunday’s nipples until they were black and greasy.

Shivering with disgust and horror, Sunday tensed her body, trying not to feel Louella’s short stubby fingers. She attempted to clear her mind of all thoughts and become just a body. A body was all they wanted. If she could only disconnect her mind then it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would matter. They could do what they wanted and not even touch her.

She lay very still. Whatever happened she had to be sure they wouldn’t harm Jean-Pierre.

Louella was chanting again. They were all holding hands and walking slowly around her.

Masked faces and naked bodies were moving closer – closer . . .

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user comment image
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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