I extend a happy haunted Halloween to all.

AGENT OF STALK IN L.A is the prequel to AGENT OF STALK IN PRAGUE. Whatever order you choose to read them in, both stories are self-contained, neither betrays the secrets of its sister tale, but I wrote the L.A. story second. PRAGUE was narrated from Clive Mercer's hardbitten point of view, but in L.A. I wanted Mercer described in a softer focus, the viewpoint of a woman. What contrasts could I eke out of the same character in two separate tales? A friend who read the early drafts wondered if the stories were about the same character (my goal). I hope everyone gets a kick out of AGENT OF S.T.A.L.K. IN L.A. and everyone casts their vote for 5/8. Furthermore I hope everyone gets laid this Halloween. Make it a good one!

~~~

Nova Nobarro was willing to drop her panties for Molly's uncle the first time she saw him.

There exists a moment when adults of the opposite sex first meet that they subconsciously decide if they would be intimate with the other person. The decision is neither always mutual nor solely based upon meeting someone; just seeing an attractive person across a room or a street can trigger such a one-sided conclusion.

After Nova actually met her friend's uncle she became doubly certain she'd fuck his brains out, given the chance.

His relaxed cat-like economy of movement turned her on. He gave off an aura of great strength, plucked his suitcases off the airport conveyor like they weighed nothing. Nova guessed he stood about six feet tall. Under the black suit he'd be muscular, in shape from exercising. His wavy brown hair and devilish good looks qualified him as one of the most handsome men Nova had ever seen in person. Her eyes stole to the front of his trousers seeking a bulge. She found an impressive one, much more than suitable, on the verge of making her mouth water.

And she adored his sexy British accent.

He asked the curly-haired blonde girl standing beside Nova, "Are you Molly Mae Mercer?" He'd spotted the handwritten sign with 'Mercer' scrawled on it Molly held up in the baggage claim area to incoming passengers for identification purposes.

Her friend responded hopefully, "Uncle Clive?"

"Righto. Goodness, the last time I saw you you were a little girl."

"That had to be ten or eleven years ago at least, I couldn't've been older than nine. I don't remember your hair being as long as it is now."

"Since then I've changed more than you'd want to know." He set down his luggage to give Molly an avuncular hug. Noticing Nova standing next to her, he asked, "This a friend of yours?"

Nova almost blushed when his big blue eyes appraised her. She introduced herself.

"Clive Mercer," he said in return.

He shook her hand politely. Nova would have preferred a hug as well, although delighted Mercer and she weren't relatives. She wished now she'd dressed as revealing as Molly in tight cutoffs and skimpy T-shirt rather than the skirt and blouse she put on that morning at the motel. Nova's skirt was short enough, but she chided herself for not wearing the low cut sweater she'd packed instead with her outfit. Both girls had large breasts; hers were bigger, but Molly laid claim to longer legs. Each of them wore glasses too. Nova should've left hers at the hotel, no matter how many men told her glasses increased her sex appeal.

She'd no way of knowing Mercer would be such a hot guy in spite of being in his early forties, her senior by decades. Had Molly not been around, Nova wouldn't have hesitated luring the older man into her bed. She felt a pleasant warmth building in the damp folds of flesh concealed by the crotchpiece of her thong, which could've been left behind like her glasses. If only she'd known.

Mercer made a good-natured comment about Molly's sneakers (he called them plimsoles). Pink high-topped Converse tennis shoes suited Molly's personality more than hers. But Nova was glad she'd worn high-heeled clog sandals; they improved the way her ass moved when she walked.

"Uncle Clive, these shoes are fashionable here in America," Molly protested. "They're known as Chuck's. I'll buy you a pair as a souvenir of your visit to L.A."

"I'll treasure them all the way to the dustbin, if they're pink!"

"Dustbin?" asked Nova.

Mercer explained, "That's what you Americans refer to as a trash can, Nova."

"Molly didn't tell me you're English, Mr. Mercer."

"Please call me Clive," Mercer requested. "My little brother met an American in England a quarter of a century ago, followed her back to the States and married her. That's why my niece Molly is an all-American girl without an accent."

"You seem familiar enough with America," Nova told him. "Do you live in England?"

"S.T.A.L.K. has me stationed in Prague till the end of the year, then I go back to the U.K. Didn't Molly tell you?"

Nova knew S.T.A.L.K. stood for Supernatural Terminators And Lycanthrope Killers, a notorious European group of bounty hunters somehow sanctioned by the U.S. government. "I know what line of work you're in, tracking down vampires, but Molly only said her uncle was flying in from New York."

"I flew into London from the Czech Republic before crossing the pond to New York. Been in airports or on a bloody airplane for more than thirty hours. I'm positively knackered. Sorry, Nova, that means I'm dead tired."

"You can sleep at the hotel, Uncle Clive. I've already booked you a room, it connects to ours."

That fact delighted Nova too.

"Is it at the same hotel where the Halloween Film Festival is being held?"

"No, and it's not in walking distance either. The Kirkbride in Beverly Hills is a five-star hotel," said Molly.

Nova added, "In other words, Clive, the Kirkbride is way too expensive. We're staying in a La Quinta motel."

"It's like a motor court," said Molly, "It's nice."

"Nice and cheap," Nova said to Mercer. "But it is clean."

He covered his mouth when he yawned. "I don't care so long as it has a bed."

Mercer insisted upon carrying his bags when they begged to help and the three of them headed for the nearest exit in the terminal. He toted his metal Halliburton suitcases as easily as Paris Hilton would a plastic sack of lingerie from a boutique on Rodeo Drive.

He asked, "Molly, were you able to get me any screenshots from the movie since you contacted S.T.A.L.K.?"

"No. But I'm positive the actor in 'Nude Bloodbath' is the guy S.T.A.L.K. knows as Reginald Orr."

"I've been meaning to ask you, that title sounds like a porn film, I couldn't find a bit of information about it in our files or on the Internet."

"Did you just skim my email? I only learned about it through a friend of a friend. The movie hasn't exactly been released yet, Uncle Clive, they only shot it three weeks ago. But it's a fuck flick all right."

"Did you say what I thought you just said, young lady?"

"That's how we talk in Cali in the David Mamet generation. Chill out, I'm twenty one. Nova is . . ."

"Old enough to vote," interjected Nova.

Molly laughed and Mercer rolled his eyes. "Nova, do you talk like my niece too?"

"Me?" Nova innocently batted her eyelashes the way she'd done with exciting males since junior high. "If you're staying with us for the rest of the week I guess you'll find out."

Mercer glanced at Molly. "Do you smoke and drink as well?" he asked with a sigh. His eyes wandered to the tat on her belly of a colorful gecko lizard crawling downward into her panty line. "Is that the only tattoo you have?"

She smiled wickedly. "No, it's just the only one you can see when I have all my clothes on. I'm not a kid anymore, but I don't smoke. Neither does Nova. She has tattoos."

"He won't be able to see them until I wear my bikini at the pool," she announced flirtatiously and Mercer rolled his eyes again.

The veiled risqué conversation and Nova's proximity to Molly's good looking English stud of an uncle caused her to become wet and open; she might have to change into a fresh thong when she got back to the La Quinta.

"Don't be stodgy, Uncle Clive. As I recall you have a tat on your arm, a tiger."

"That's different. I used to be a commando."

"I go commando sometimes."

The girls cracked up when he made a face and said nothing. Mercer seemed puzzled by the Americanism he probably did not understand. Nova planned to provide the definition for him later.

"Little Miss Molly, were you aware your red knickers are in plain sight?"

"Knickers?" asked Nova. "That means panties in England?"

"Panties? Yes, sorry I forgot. Is that in style too, like pink plimsoles and tattoos on females?"

"It's a style called whale tail," Molly let him know. "Isn't it cute?"

"Cute's not quite the word that came to mind." Mercer shifted his gaze from the exposed waistband of his brother's daughter's panties to Nova. "She is kidding me, isn't she?"

"I think you'd prefer your niece showing her whale tail than her going commando."

Mercer nodded in slow comprehension. "No panties! Now I got the idea. I haven't been to America in three or four years."

Nova liked the way he pronounced the words as idear and Ameriker.

The girls replaced their glasses with shades when they walked outside into the glittering California sunshine. After blinking in the October sun for a few seconds Nova saw Mercer put on a pair of Ray Bans. To her, they made him sexier than hell and she noted several women on the sidewalk give him a second look. He might have passed as an A-list leading man.

Molly suggested, "Nova, why don't you bring Uncle Clive up to speed while I run get the car?"

"I can manage, these bags are full but not that heavy."

"We're parked a ways off."

"I'll walk, young lady."

Molly and Nova made eye contact and shrugged. "Fine with me," said Molly.

"I may have one foot in the grave but I'm not an octogenarian I'll have you know."

"You're right, Uncle Clive. Anyway, I ought to know better than to leave you alone with a girl like her."

"Bitch!" taunted Nova.

"Slut!" Molly replied.

Mercer stared at them when they started bantering among themselves. The two girls cackled at him to indicate they weren't being serious.

"I'm afraid we're confusing your uncle."

"'Fraid not, love, I'm not confused, just surprised. The girls in Prague and London talk to each other the same way you do. What I'm pondering is how Molly Mae got to view a porno movie that isn't on the market yet."

"Are you totally sure you want to know?" she asked.

"Of course! This Reginald Orr character is nothing to joke around about. He's killed hundreds of humans."

"Well, if you really want to know . . ."

"I may not want to, but I have to know. I didn't fly halfway around the globe to kill Reggie for nothing, he's been eluding authorities since the second World War. Knowing all the details might give me an edge. Should I need one."

Molly removed her sunglasses and put her regular ones back on as they entered an underground parking lot. "I know some girls who strip for a living and work at escort services when the tips are slow."

Nova said, "Prostitutes, just not the streetwalking variety."

"I quite understand. Go on."

"One of these strippers is acquainted with Sammy Baldwin, the producer of 'Nude Bloodbath.' He gave a private screening at a party of his. The stripper invited me and I went. While I watched the movie I could've sworn I recognized Reginald from S.T.A.L.K.'s most wanted list you email me from time to time."

"And Reggie's supposed to attend this Horror Film Festival?"

"Halloween Film Festival," Molly corrected him. "That's what Sammy told me personally."

"What else did this smut movie producer tell you?"

"He asked if I wanted to audition for his next video. I agreed if he could get me and some friends into the film fest."

"That how you scored us engraved invitations?"

"Hell yeah. This is the first year they're hosting the festival. It's not open to the public, mostly industry insiders and aspiring actresses. Don't look at me like that! Every pretty girl in Cali is an aspiring actress."

"Are you one too, Nova?" asked Mercer.

She exaggerated licking her lips. "Am I not pretty enough?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Lighten up, Clive, I know what you meant."

He asked, "Lord, Molly, you'd actually agree to appear in a porn flick?"

"Don't you think I'm pretty enough? Lose the stoneface, Unk, I'm only teasing. I just told Sammy I'd audition."

"Do you know what auditioning for a porn movie involves?"

"Usually fucking a perfect stranger with a big dick."

"What would your father say?"

"Nothing, because dad doesn't know and you're not going to tell her. I led Sammy on to get us invited, in case you happened to be interested, and sent the email as soon as I went home."

"So you thought I'd be interested in a porn film because of some actor who bears a resemblance to Reginald Orr is in it?"

"That, and the name has to have some significance, I doubt it's coincidental."

"An actor assumes a role, an actor assumes a name. There's probably nothing more to it than that."

"Dismiss it if you like, 'Nude Bloodbath' is not your typical run-of-the-mill porno movie."

"There's only so many variations," Mercer mused. "What is it then?"

Nova said, "She thinks it's a snuff flick."

No one needed to define that term for him.

Molly went on: "It appeared to me the actress Nikki Nookie was actually killed in her scene. Nikki's one of the girls who starred in 'Nude Bloodbath.' I'm friends with a stripper who introduced me to her. At the end of her scene Nikki gets bitten on the neck after she finishes fucking a vampire character, the actor who calls himself Reginald Orr and looks like him. His face isn't featured as much as his, uh, something else is in the movie. But I got one or two glimpses, especially when he put the bite on her, and I never forget a face. I think Nikki's dead."

"Isn't this woman allegedly an actress?"

"Nikki never was much of one. And the blood and the wound in her neck looked authentic."

Mercer still didn't sound convinced. "You never can be sure when it comes to Hollywood. Special effects maybe?"

Nova scoffed, "Special effects in a porn reel? Hollywood films big budget movies. Van Nuys is where the majority of low budget porn is videoed, not that those people take themselves any less seriously than Spielberg or De Niro."

Molly said, "Add in the fact Nikki Nookie hasn't been seen by any of our mutual friends since 'Nude Bloodbath' was shot three weeks ago and the real-life potential gets scary."

Mercer rubbed his chin, thinking. "Did you see the movie too, Nova?"

She frowned and replied caustically, "I wasn't invited to the party."

"You seem so surprised, Uncle Clive. Like I said, I emailed you most of this information."

"Not the part about the snuff flick! What have you gotten yourself mixed up in anyway?"

"S.T.A.L.K. sent you straight to Los Angeles." Molly sulked. "Your boss obviously took me more seriously than you."

"Molly, my boss is a lot more interested than I am in the fifty thousand pound bounty S.O.I.L. is offering for Reggie's demise."

Nova knew about the Supernatural Opposition International League also. Headquartered in Geneva, they funded a lot of organizations like S.T.A.L.K. by offering large rewards for the execution of vampires, werewolves and other assorted monsters.

Mercer was saying, "S.T.A.L.K.'s manager ordered me to fly from Prague to Los Angeles tout de suite. He lives for money and, if I know him, dreams about it."

"Then you didn't believe me, Uncle Clive?"

"Let's say I still have my doubts, sweetheart, and put little credence in the email you sent. Maybe I owe you an apology. What did you tell this so-called movie producer about yourself?"

"That I was an entertainment feature writer with the Berkeley Examiner and I had a friend named Nova who worked in the same capacity for a Catholic publication in Sacramento."

"And me?"

"You're Sir Clive Mercer with the London Times."

"What if he checks out your story?"

"Sammy's a perv, he's doesn't have the snap to do minor research. All he thinks about is hot young pussy 24/7, the younger the better. Everyone knows there isn't enough blood in a man's body to operate his brain and his dick at the same time."

Nova and Mercer's laughter rang through the parking garage.

Molly said, "Sammy's a fucking numb nuts if he thinks he can get in my pants. What he wants most is all the publicity he can get. He thinks he can be the next Pierre Woodman. According to Sammy, the backers want to host the Halloween Film Festival annually and sell seats to the public next year if this first one is a success. He thinks it could catch on like Sundance or Tribeca and he'd be on the ground floor of the next big thing."

Mercer nodded and said, "Who is Pierre Woodman?"

"You never heard of him?" Molly asked.

"No."

"Never mind, you can meet Pierre at the film festival. He's slated to be there with a bunch of other actors and directors."

"Is this festival made up completely of sleazy filmmakers?"

"No, they're just a small part of the guest list, there's plenty of big time industry movers and shakers invited too. Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino are rumored to be making a surprise appearance Halloween night when 'From Dusk Till Dawn' is screened."

Nova chimed in: "Rob Zombie and his wife Sheri Moon are the guests of honor. Rob's bringing a print of 'Halloween II' to run on Saturday night."

"Uncle Clive doesn't know who Rob Zombie is either, Nova."

"Don't be too sure, Molly Mae," said Mercer, "I have the CD of 'La Sexorcisto' in my car. 'Hellbilly Deluxe' too."

The girls stared at him in disbelief and Mercer laughed at them for a change, but they got in the last laugh.

"You ought to be proud of your niece," Nova said. "She faked out a fast-talking porno money man with that newspaper bullshit. We are so in there."

They finally reached the car and Molly dug a ring of keys out of her purse. "Not bad for a tattooed girl who just turned twenty one, who swears and lets her panties show, huh, Uncle Clive?"

Mercer waved a forlorn hand in surrender. During the ride to the motor court he dozed in the back seat. At a stop light Nova saw Molly glance at his reflection in the rear view mirror.

"My uncle's cute when he's asleep."

Nova said in a low voice so not to disturb him: "He's cute when he's awake."

"Do you like him?"

She grinned slyly, which should tell Molly all she needed to know.

"Just remember, my uncle's forty two or three."

"I like older men," Nova spoke very quietly, little more than mouthing the words. "You wouldn't mind if he and I . . .?"

"Hooked up? Why should I care? I'd be envious you got a guy and I didn't."

"Envious, but not mad?"

Molly pitched her voice lower. "Hell no, girl. I wouldn't mind meeting a man as hot as him. If he wasn't---like---my uncle I'd probably hit on him myself."

"If something did happen between him and me you'd really be cool with it?"

"Sure!" Molly said, accelerating when the light turned green. After another glance in the rear view she said, "He needs his suit cleaned and pressed, after all the flying he's done it looks slept in."

Nova glanced over her shoulder at Mercer. "He's sleeping in it now."

"Once we get to the motel he'll definitely crash. I'll take his suit to the dry cleaners then. He's liable to sleep around the clock, when he wakes up it'll be ready for him."

"Surely he brought changes of clothes in those big suitcases of his?"

"I'm sure he did, but I intended to buy him a few presents at the mall anyway, sort of welcoming him to America. Do you want to go with me after I drop his suit off?"

"To tell the truth, I thought I'd take a dip in the pool and have myself a nap. Don't stare at me like that; I won't molest him in his sleep," Nova whispered so the wrong ears wouldn't overhear.
Molly grinned devilishly. "I bet you twenty bucks you can't make it with him."

"Guidelines please. What constitutes making it with him?"

"Certainly not just cuddling up for some hugging and kissing. And not stroking him off or giving him a blow job either. It needs to be the full wedding night treatment, I mean with him putting his back into it."

"He'll certainly be too beat to do anything today. What's the time limit on our bet?"

"From now until we put him back on the plane."

"That could be four or five whole days."

"That's right," grinned Molly, "Four to five days. And nights!"

"There must be something you're not telling me. Your uncle's not married, is he?"

"Nope. Divorced, going on about ten years I think."

"In that case, we have a bet, girl. How long will you be at the mall?"

"All afternoon. We'll go out to eat when I get back."

"You just might be paying for dinner, bitch."

"I so doubt that, you ho. I hope your digestive system works when you're feeling frustrated."

"Hope you can enjoy your food when you're twenty dollars poorer."

"I'll have fun watching you squirm four or five days."

"Shee-it, Molly, it won't take me that long!"

Two minutes after Molly left with Mercer's rumpled suit Nova stripped down to her panties. Standing before the dresser mirror she kneaded her breasts to erase the indentations of the bra from her olive skin, her dark nipples hard as bullets. She saw the wet spot discoloring the crotch of her white thong and started to take it off but changed her mind. Combing her fingers one last time through her silky black hair, cut shorter in the back than front, she wet her lips with her tongue, swayed to the connecting door to lean against it, listening for sounds in the adjoining room. No shower running, no voice on the phone to the desk. Molly's uncle must already be slumbering away.

He'd listlessly carried his luggage into the room when they'd arrived at the motel. Yawning, he'd told the girls to wake him if they needed anything and gone into his quarters without another word. Molly followed after him. With the door ajar Nova heard her badgering Mercer to surrender his suit so she could drop it by the dry cleaners. He instructed her to leave while he got undressed and, a moment later, handed his coat and trousers through the half open door, repeating the girls should rouse him should they need him, even if he slept. Nova would rouse him, all right, she needed something. She wondered if he slept in the nude. If he did, she'd soon know! Afterwards she was positive she'd be much happier and twenty bucks richer, when Molly paid up.

She debated changing her soaked panties again, deciding against it, they'd be undeniable proof of her arousal for him. Quietly she turned the door knob and slipped into Mercer's room. She'd expected the lights to be out, but he sat on the edge of the bed holding a large pistol, and not the one inside his boxers. Her appearance did not startle him; at least he didn't take aim at her with the double-barreled chrome-plated gun.

He looked her in the eye instead of at her naked breasts. Nova felt acute disappointment although her knees trembled anyway. To gloss over the unspoken discouragement she giggled in her very best giggle. "My, what a big gun you have, grandma."

"Is that supposed to be a double entendre?"

Nova made no secret of admiring the taut muscles of his abdomen and broad shoulders. She'd hoped his dick would pop a tent in his shorts, only to again be disappointed when nothing materialized. She had great tits and knew it, with an ass a guy could deal a hand of solitaire on. Any other man would be on his feet cupping the cheeks of her butt by now. Mercer wasn't gay, Molly had told her her uncle used to be married.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied.

"If you say so." He yawned, cupping a hand in front of his mouth. The muscles under his skin rippled when he moved; the cross on the chain around his neck swung across his chest, silver against his pale flesh. He must work a lot of nights.

"Does that crucifix ward off vampires?" she asked in a lame attempt to prolong the conversation.

"Sometimes," he answered idly. "But like modern day society has evolved technologically, so have the creatures of the night."

"Do you mean the sign of the cross won't always stop a vamp in their tracks?"

"It will, except in some of the very old ones. They can be impervious to a crucifix, they've also employed technology to overcome being invisible in mirrors and garlic doesn't do a thing against them nowadays except stink, like it does to humans. No vampires are impervious to fire or a stake in the heart though."

"Can they transform into bats?"

"The real old ones can, like the infamous baroness Ingrid von Schitt of the Vampire Korps of the Gestapo. I actually had her in the sights of this same pistol once. She escaped some vampire executioners from the Raven Cadre, and me, when I worked with them in Argentina a few years back."

"This Raven Cadre is a group like S.T.A.L.K.?"

Mercer nodded. "The late Ryan Hex founded the Cadre last century. His great granddaughter Monika still carries on to this day."

"Ryan Hex? He's the second most famous vampire hunter in the world after Van Helsing."

"I'm impressed, you know your vampire lore. But Van Helsing is a figment of Bram Stoker's imagination, Hex was a very real man. He'd mastered the technique of being able to make eye contact with the undead and not be bewitched. I've read the two books he authored on the subject, but I still haven't learned how yet. I have to wear dark glasses with specially treated lenses to avoid being put under a spell."

For lack of anything better to say she asked, "Is Dracula real or just part of Stoker's imagination too?"

"You didn't sneak into my room to talk about vampires, Nova. Where are your clothes and what's on your mind?" He slid the pistol under one of the pillows on the bed.

"Did you have a problem getting that gun through customs?" She stood there with her panties getting wetter by the second and Mercer still hadn't even glanced at her tits. By now many men she'd known would have her on her knees with their balls against her chin. What was with this guy?

"You didn't come here to talk about that either. What can I do for you?"

The lie flowed easily off her tongue. "I thought you'd be asleep and I wanted to filch one of your towels without waking you. Molly and I used all the ones in our bathroom this morning."

"You didn't sneak in here to boost a towel either, sweetheart. Besides, it's dangerous to be lurking around me when I'm asleep. I might wake up and shoot you."

"Are you upset with me?" Nova asked in a little girl voice. "I hoped not to disturb you. I'll apologize if you'd like."

"No apology necessary." Mercer smiled gently at her when he spoke, stretched his arms in weariness to roll his shoulders and glided into the bathroom. She eyed the movement of his cock under his boxers with each step he took, and his butt when it came into view! He came out of the bathroom with a towel and tossed it to her.

"Going to bed now?" she ventured.

"Yes," he said. "Alone."

Not to be daunted, she stepped close to him and touched his dick. It pulsed in her hand before stiffening to a full erection in the space of two seconds, evidence he'd gone without for a long time. Mercer groaned as she reached though the opening of his shorts and stroked his length, hard as a pistol barrel.

Nova groaned too.

"You said to rouse you if there was anything I needed so obviously I've roused you, now I need what I'm holding in my hand. You have a nice big dick, please use it on me."

"You're younger than my daughter," he objected.

She squeezed him harder. "I said please."

"I can't. You're my niece's friend as well."

"Quit whining, you're running out of excuses."

Nova took his hand in the one she had free and placed it between her legs. She pressed her thighs together to hold it there. Without a doubt he realized the wet condition her panties were in. The mere touch of his palm through the nylon of the thong on her open and oozing pussy made her catch her breath.

"This is highly irregular, Nova."

"But you're definitely up for it, I can feel," she cooed, "Take my knickers off and fuck me nasty."

"I think not."

"I think so," she disagreed. She mashed her breasts against him and urgently kissed his mouth.

He didn't return the kiss, but she succeeded in guiding his endowment out of the fly of his boxers. Mercer grabbed her by the upper arms and gently inched her back an arm's length away from him. She reluctantly took her hand off his prick, but not her eyes. He looked so sexy with it jutting outside his shorts, the swollen veins flushed with blood, his plumhead a vivid, angry purple. Nova wanted badly to suck on it, to coat it with her spit, feel it wedged down her throat, to taste each warm deluge she could coax out of it, savor every delicious drop of him on her tongue before making a production of swallowing his outpourings to see the look on his face after she'd finished worshipping him. Then she'd straddle him and ride until her heart's content, and his. If Mercer stayed hard through all that punishment she'd give her ass up to him, a luscious tightness she allowed only a select few men access to.

"Clive," she pleaded, "What's wrong?"

"Doing this would be wrong, Nova. We only met less than two hours ago."

"That doesn't excite you?"

"How could there possibly be emotion involved, or romance or feelings? We'd just be copulating like two indiscriminate wild animals."

"When you run out of bullshit excuses rip my panties off and fuck me please. We're both single. What my boyfriend doesn't know won't hurt him."

"It would represent nothing," Mercer said, "Be meaningless."

"I beg to differ with you, baby, it would mean a great deal to me." A hell of a lot more than twenty lousy dollars! "I promise you no regrets. Let me please you, I want to."

"But why?"

"Can't having the hots for you be reason enough? What are you being all sanctimonious about anyway?"

"My niece is in the next room."

"Your niece is at a shopping mall in the next county, she'll be gone till the sun goes down. And speaking of going down, that sounds like a plan to me." Nova sank to her knees and angled her face toward his upright cock, extending her tongue. She could almost taste him, laid loving fingers on each side of his bloated tool.

Mercer's objections waned and his maleness preceded him like a railroad spike. "I must decline your kind offer however gracious it is. Nova honey, you're suffering from blind lust."

"My eyes are wide open, Clive baby, and I see what I want right in front of me. The only suffering I'll suffer is if you deny me this beautiful dick." She barely got the word out of her mouth before she got the real thing inside it. Fuck, she'd never had to beg for it in her life. The conquest of Mercer would be a sweet victory indeed. She could mop a floor with her panties.

He moaned as if in pain when she began to pay loving tribute to him with her mouth. She slurped loudly, on her knees like a willing slut, gazing up into his glazed eyes, her glasses halfway down her nose. He put up little resistance as Nova tried to deep throat him unsuccessfully a number of times before she finally got him all the way down. The effort caused her to gag and she pulled her head back, drool dangling from her chin. She thought he'd be watching her, but saw his eyes closed tightly.

"Nova, you really should stop this now."

But she knew he didn't mean it and resumed; his stoutness slick and shiny from her wet ministrations. Once her throat acclimated, the whole deep throat process became a trip, she plunged him to the hilt repeatedly, slurping, choking. Before much longer a small cry left his lips. Nova took him out of her mouth as the first white jet of semen shot from the tip of his rampant prick. The spurt plopped against one side of her nose and she felt his hot stickiness slither across her cheek all the way to the ear. A second burst splashed her forehead while more splattered her glasses and her upper lip. She held her mouth wide open and received a few salty beads on her tongue, but the majority of his copious release striped her face and forehead before dripping onto her breasts. An inordinate amount of come flowed from him for an inordinate amount of time. Nova relished every second and each successive gush.

When he finally drained his scrotum only a big pearl of sperm clung to the head of his dick. She made it disappear and sucked on Mercer's penis another minute to heighten his pleasure. He gasped during her renewed oral onslaught before collapsing on the motel bed, chest heaving and brow gleaming with sweat. Nova knelt giggling at his feet with come congealing on her face and tits, tummy and thighs.

"It must have been a long time since you came like that. I'm sure I'm a sight, drenched in come like a two dollar whore."

"I'll do something about that," he wheezed.

"Oh," Nova said as Mercer laved up a splotch of goo on his forefinger. He thrust it in her mouth. She licked it clean and he went about collecting the stray come off her face and breasts onto his finger and feeding it to her until only the ejaculate on her glasses remained. She removed them and tongued them clean, never taking her eyes off him. "You taste good," she murmured. "What did you think of that?"

His breathing returned to normal. "I'll show you what I think," he said firmly. "Take those knicks off."

"My kind of guy," she said eagerly. To her delight Mercer's cock still rose upright from his fly, pointed at the ceiling, like he'd not fired a single shot yet. She got to her feet and pushed her panties down, making sure her tits wobbled as she did his bidding. What lay ahead in the next hour or two for her promised to be smokin' hot. She pushed her wet thong into his hand. He let it slip through his fingers onto the bedspread.

"Nova, in my suitcase I have some neckties to wear while I'm visiting. Hand me some of them please."

"Sure," she said. She took dancing little steps over to one of the Halliburtons open on the floor, hoisted her ass up in the air when she bent over to search, knowing in her position he could see the vulnerable socket of her asshole.

"The ties are by the socks," he said wearily.

She located them and held up three black ties, the only color he seemed to have packed. "Will these do?"

"Two should be sufficient. Give them to me."

"I'll be glad to. Then you're going to give it to me, right?"

"You can count on it, young lady. Thank you, now turn round with your backside facing me. What a superb fat bottom you're blessed with."

She wagged it lewdly for his benefit. "Thank you, sir."

He dropped one of the ties on the bed beside her discarded panties and began tying a slipknot in the other one. He did the same with the other tie. Nova got very turned on watching what he was doing over one shoulder.

"Cross your wrists behind you now," he instructed.

"Are you going to tie me up? I love that!"

"Why am I not surprised?" he said in his wry English accent.

Mercer diligently secured her wrists together with one of the ties. By the time he completed the task, Nova could not have undone her fetters had she tried. She also couldn't wait for him to fuck her senseless. He laid her over his lap and positioned his right leg across her left one, their ankles touching. Nova would never have let a stranger do that, she couldn't wriggle free if she wanted to, glad Mercer and she were friends, confident he planned to give her a sexy spanking before putting his hardness where she really wanted it, inside her pussy that gaped open in invitation. She felt his eyes examining the double orifices on display between her spread thighs and buttocks. Her pussy must appear delectable in its state of full arousal, open like a morning flower glistening with dew. To urge Mercer on, Nova worked her stomach muscles to clench and unclench her sphincter muscle. She'd practiced the stunt before with a hand mirror enabling her to witness the expansion and contraction of her anus, knew it appeared to blow a kiss, or wink, vulnerable and obscene at the same time. Enticed, Mercer wet a fingertip in her slick kootch and investigated the rude circle of flesh nestled in the valley created by the moons of her behind. He massaged the rubbery muscle adventurously before the wet end of his finger probed deeper realms of her ass. Nova shuddered.

"You enjoy that, do you?" "Oh God, yes. You can stretch it out more if you want."

He stirred his finger round and round to loosen the resistant ring of her anus for quite a while, eventually sinking it to the knuckle on several occasions in the depths of her asshole. She submitted with a sigh to each new intrusion and mumbled a complaint when they ceased. He placed the naughty forefinger to her lips; she groaned a wordless approval and sucked on it dreamily. Then he took his hand away, depriving her. The hand came to rest on the halves of her buttocks again, fondling the cheeks. He applied a light slap to them.

"Have I been a bad girl, am I about to get spanked?"

"Yes you have and yes you are," Mercer replied sternly.

Something in his tone of voice insinuated things might not proceed to the conclusion she envisioned. He gripped her tied wrists and held them in place high at the small of her back; she'd been correct about his aura of strength. She tested it by trying to squirm loose and discovered herself unable to move beyond an inconsequential inch or two. A pregnant moment later the flat of his hand exploded against her left asscheek, she howled. He followed up quickly, his palm cracking against the other half of her ass with equal force. She flinched, helpless in his grasp.

"Not so hard, Clive," she stammered. "That really stung."

"Did it? Let me have another go."

The second series of smacks proved to be no softer. "Oww, take it easy, baby."

"Those smarted, did they?"

"Well, I've got a booty that can absorb a lot of punishment, but you don't have to spank me so hard."

She arched her ass in the air for him to try again and once more a savage set of stinging blows rained down on her poor ass flesh. The only part of her body she could move was her right leg; since he sat on her left she couldn't do a damn thing with that. Mercer paused after many intense minutes, her buttocks afire and no doubt red as a fire engine.

"What the fuck, Clive. Don't!"

"You want me to stop?"

"Yes! This isn't fun for me."

He inserted two fingers inside her splayed pussy and sluiced them around briefly. The wet sound of what he was doing filled the room. "But you didn't stop when I asked you to," he said.

"You were hard as a rock, you didn't mean it."

Her pussy squished when he withdrew his fingers. Reaching across her back, he held the two sticky fingers up to her nostrils. She smelt the pungent aroma of her cunt.

"And you're wetter than a pitcher of beer. I can only think you're enjoying this and don't mean it when you say stop either."

"But I mean it when I say it."

"And I didn't when I said it?"

"That's different."

"Not any different, you're being illogical," he intoned and began smacking her buttocks anew.

When he paused to inspect his handiwork, Nova pleaded, "Stop, no more, please. Or I'll scream, I swear."

"Scream all you want to," he invited.

When she parted her lips to cry out the tricky bastard stuffed her balled-up sodden panties inside her mouth. Before she could spit them out he'd looped the second tie over her head and down between her lips before drawing the slipknot tight. The thong stayed wedged in her mouth. Nova could scream, but achieved only a muffled result Molly would not have heard even had she been next door.
Mercer paddled her gyrating buttcheeks for several grueling minutes more. At last he dumped her writhing form off his lap onto the carpet, rose and went into the bathroom. Nova heard the shower running and struggled to get loose. She encountered difficulty getting to her feet with her hands tied behind her. By the time she managed, the shower water stopped. She was trying to open the connecting door with her hands behind her back when Mercer strode into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet. He tugged Nova by her own locks to direct her to the spot he wanted, gamely dodging the kicks she aimed at his balls, and flung her facedown onto the motel bed. Before he untied her he whispered in her ear to answer his questions with a nod or a shake of her head.

"Have you had your fill of fun and games?"

Eyes wide above the gag, she nodded vigorously.

"Do you promise not to bother me at least till I catch up on my sleep?"

Another desperate nod of assurance from Nova and Mercer lifted her effortlessly off the bed. He set her down on her feet. Standing between her and the connecting door, he opened it, unknotted the necktie around her wrists, stepped aside and laughed when she scampered into the adjacent room with the thong still tied in her mouth. Nova locked the door separating them immediately and fumbled the tie off her head in order to spit the soiled panties out of her mouth.

"Motherfucker," she snorted.

She shot the finger impotently at the connecting door and went straight to the shower in her room. For half an hour she fingered her pussy under the running water. She induced some minor orgasms.

They were little consolation.

~~~~~~~~~~

Molly heaped a chip precariously with salsa and held it up to her mouth, a balancing act of eating while talking. "As much as I hate to say it, Nova, I told you so." Molly spoke quietly; Nova thought so the family at the table beside them wouldn't hear, especially the middle-aged husband who'd been trying to look up their skirts since they first sat down.

The girls sat in the seating outside of a Baja Fresh Mexican Grill in Beverly Hills. It wasn't the landscaped patio garden at Spago, but in Nova's current mood Spago would be a waste of money.

She sighed for about the fiftieth time, ignoring the basket of chips and studying the traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard. "I still can't believe he fucking spanked me. Like some goddamned kid misbehaving."

Molly said between bites, "Sounds like you were acting like one, according to your own story anyway, sneaking into his room wearing nothing but a pair of panties. You want to pay me that twenty now?"

"And admit defeat?" Nova grinned. "Fuck no and fuck you, I still have several days and nights left."

"Rotsa ruck." Molly scarfed down another chip. "So you're not mad at Uncle Clive?"

"Well, it's not like I can't sit down or anything. Spanking me doesn't change the way he looks, he's no less good looking this evening than this afternoon."

"Yeah, and not to diss my uncle, but how many good looking assholes have you met in California?"

"I can name fifty or sixty off the top of my head."

"So even though my uncle's as hot as an actor or a surfer dude, you don't consider him an asshole because he warmed your bare ass?"

Nova disregarded the slight smile playing around the edges of Molly's lips. "I consider that more of a Round One."

"Or foreplay?" asked Molly in a whisper.

Nova threw a couple of chips at Molly and, laughing, the girls engaged in an impromptu food fight. The man at the next table strained to watch their every move in his peripheral vision. Both girls wore very short denim skirts that revealed lots of leg and the energetic chip throwing exposed a lot of thigh. Nova was glad she hadn't gone commando tonight.

Molly got her uncle a bag of take-out before they drove back to the La Quinta. She cracked the door to check on him, Nova didn't dare.

"Is he still asleep?"

Molly exclaimed, "He's gone!"

"What?"

Nova bolted into the connecting room after Molly, who had already switched on the light. She saw no evidence Mercer's suitcases, but Molly discovered a note on the pillow. They read it together. Mercer had written: 'Ladies, do not be alarmed by my absence, I merely checked into another room in the motel to catch up on lost sleep. Do not trouble the front desk inquiring about what room number, I instructed them not to divulge it. Will meet the two of you here tomorrow at noon and buy lunch. Love, Uncle Clive.'

"Do you think he's pissed off at me?" Nova asked Molly.

"I doubt it, he said he's just tired. Anyway, would he pay for your lunch tomorrow if he's pissed?"

"But he went and got another room and asked we not try to find him. That's sending some kind of message, y'know, saying something without saying it." Nova could not help but feeling rejected, not just once, but twice now. Damn that man! Being unaccustomed to rejection, she isolated the fact she wasn't taking it well. But she had every intention of handling it well.

"He may be uptight but he is male, after all, Nova, and from what you told me it sounded like a very feverish interlude."

She hadn't told her everything! "Thanks for trying to mollify me. What now?"

"Want to go out?"

"Not particularly, I don't feel like it."

Molly shrugged. "Hungry? I have a sack of take-out."

"You just ate, girl!"

"No use letting this Baja Fresh go to waste, Uncle Clive won't be eating it."

"I hate chicks like you who eat and eat and eat and never gain a pound. I'm sure glad that fucking Halloween festival starts tomorrow." Nova sighed one more time. "It's too bad the batteries in my vibrator are dead."

Molly giggled, "Wonder what's on TV tonight?"

~~~~~~~~~

Mercer horrified Nova and Molly with the clothes he showed up in for lunch.

"No, no, Uncle Clive, a thousand times no!" uttered Molly, "Is that a Halloween costume?"

"Halloween's not till Saturday," agreed Nova, wincing.

"This is sunny California. What's wrong with me Hawaiian shirt?"

"For one, it's so old all the colors have faded from red and green to pink and gray. And your skin's too white to even think about wearing shorts, especially Bermuda shorts. Do you want to stop traffic?"

"What about me plimsoles? They're American and certainly no worse than those pink things on your feet."

"Sorry, your yellow Nikes have got to go. You look like you haven't bought any clothes since back in the eighties."

"But they still fit," he said sheepishly.

"No way I'll let you embarrass yourself in public like that. Nova, please educate my uncle about socks."

"Clive, you don't wear black socks with tennis shoes, not wearing shorts at any rate. It's just not done."

"What am I to wear then? My suit got hijacked yesterday," he said, helpless under the scrutiny of the fashionistas.

"We'll pick it up at the cleaners this afternoon."

"What do I do till then? I'm sure nothing else in my suitcases will meet with your approval. And I'm famished."

"Fortunately, I bought you some presents yesterday."

"What kind of presents?" Mercer asked suspiciously. "I'm not wearing pink shoes, especially not for the sake of fashion."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't let you leave here in a pair," laughed Molly. "You're lucky your niece has your back. Follow me."

She led him into the room he'd vacated. Nova went only as far as the connecting door and leaned against the frame. Molly had placed all of Mercer's gifts on the bed: a garment bag, a shoe box and two or three plastic sacks from various clothing outlets. Nova left them to it and got a magazine she'd brought off her night table. She heard Mercer and Molly arguing.

"I want you out of this room while I change!"

"If Nova saw you in your boxers then it won't hurt a thing if one of your relatives does too!"

Nice, thought Nova.

They emerged from the room a few minutes later, Molly with a triumphant gleam in her eye and Mercer clad in a lightweight olive suit with the sleeves of the jacket pushed up to his elbows. The black Converse high top tennis shoes matched his plain black T-shirt.

Nova knew Molly expected her to make a comment. So she whistled and said tartly, "Much better, Clive, you might even get laid while you're in Cali."

Mercer complained, "I look like a bloody rock star."

"Not without eyeliner you don't," replied Molly. "At least you don't look like a tourist from Nimrod, Oklahoma. Welcome to the new millennium, Uncle Clive. You'll be among the best dressed men at the film festival."

"And you would know!" He paced around the room, casting an occasional glance in the mirror. "Have to admit these sneakers are more comfortable than me loafers." He tinkered with the coat sleeves, starting to tug them down to his wrists.

"Leave those at your elbows," scolded Molly, her hands on her hips.

Mercer smirked, "Mummy knows best," but complied and regarded his image in the mirror. "This suit fits like you had it tailored. How'd you know what to buy?"

"Before I took your other one to the cleaners I dropped by a clothing store with it to get one the same size. I also peeked at your loafers to check your shoe size before I left."

"You think of everything, the shoes fit too, I'm dead chuffed."

Nova wanted to ask him what the expression meant, but kept quiet, wanting to gauge how Mercer acted around her today. If he had anything to say, he'd have to bring the conversation to her. She needn't have been concerned, he acted like yesterday never happened and behaved like a gentleman overall, dry-witted and pleasant.

Molly drove them to Pink's hot dog stand on La Brea and Nova noticed several women staring at him while they stood in line. Molly teased him, asking why he insisted upon dressing like a rock and roller. They devoured eight chili dogs between the three of them, afterwards Mercer insisting on taking a bus tour of movie star homes before they returned to the motel. They had two hours before needing to depart and killed time chatting in their room.

Mercer surprised Nova and Molly talking about his hobbies. He revered the escape artist Harry Houdini. "Chap would dislocate bones in his hands and feet to slip out of manacles," he said, "In the commandos I used to hold demonstrations, getting out of coils of rope and locked trunks, though not at Houdini's level." Mercer also possessed an in-depth knowledge of old black-and-white horror films, saying how keen he was for the opportunity to see the ones scheduled to be shown at the Halloween Film Festival.

Molly said, "Yesterday you didn't seem to know much about this festival."

"I couldn't dig up any information about 'Nude Bloodbath,' but did find the festival itinerary on the Internet. They plan to show a lot of old Universal Studios movies tonight. 'Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man,' 'House of Dracula,' and 'The Mummy's Tomb.'"

"Enjoy yourself. Since the festival is devoting the first night to black and white horror classics, Sammy Baldwin and Reggie might be no-shows. Tomorrow the porn crowd should be out in full for the screenings of their brand of horror movies."

"Molly, will the porn screenings be private?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know the festival is reserving modern mainstream classics for Halloween night on Saturday. The oldies and mainstream stuff will play on the screen in the Kirkbride's convention center, all suitable for public consumption. But what about the porn? Will they screen those movies in the convention center too, or elsewhere?"

"I'm not sure how the promoters are handling that, but if I know Sammy, he'll probably hold screenings in his suite at the Kirkbride."

"Not a lot of festival goers will get to see them if he does."

"True, but it's a surefire way to entice the aspiring actresses into a more private setting, if you get my drift. He's a horndog."

"Is there any way you can persuade him to give us a sneak preview of 'Nude Bloodbath' tonight?"

Nova spread her hands apart. "May I point out that might put Molly in a compromising position, Clive."

"I'll be there too," he said, "We'll run into the same obstacle tomorrow."

"Do you have to see the movie? Maybe Molly can ask Sammy to introduce us to some of the cast instead."

"Good idea, if they're here. And Reggie's the only one of the lot I need to meet."

"If this Reginald Orr character is a vampire will he recognize you as an agent of S.T.A.L.K.?"

"I've never met him personally, Nova, just studied the photos of him in S.T.A.L.K.'s files."

"What I'm thinking is along the lines of this: if S.T.A.L.K. compiles a most wanted list, maybe vampires do the same, only in reverse. A be-on-the-lookout for this bounty hunter or that one."

"Logical enough, although I doubt Reggie'd know me on sight," said Mercer, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "The best I can do is be there to watch after Molly. And you, of course."

"Of course," said Nova absently. She consulted the time on her cell phone. "It's time for us girls to get ready."

Mercer excused himself, claiming he needed to send an email to his boss and make some preparations of his own. He knocked on their door in twenty minutes. Nova let him in, noticed his jacket didn't fit like it had and asked about the bulge under his left armpit. He told her he'd added a shoulder holster to his apparel, but refrained from showing her the gun. She wondered if he packed the big chrome job she'd seen him with yesterday.

He expressed surprise they still weren't dressed. When the girls came out of the connecting room in their evening attire half an hour later, Mercer shook his head in disbelief. He made the comment: "You two seem more undressed than dressed."

Both wore mini-dresses that exposed their tits and advertised their asses: Molly in red satin with spaghetti straps keeping her dress from falling off; Nova in clingy silver silk with circular holes the size of dinner plates cut out of the front and back. Only a strip of fabric hid her nipples leaving the top and underside of her breasts revealed along with her belly button. The cutout in back was so low part of the crack of her ass showed.

Mercer said, "I know you're not wearing a bra, Nova, but it appears like you're not wearing underpants either."

"I am," she assured him and hiked her hemline up to prove it. The waistband of the gold thong rode midway down on her hips. "It's designed to wear with garments like this."

"Oh, is that what it's called?" Mercer quipped. "Ingenious."

"Uncle Clive, what do you think of my dress?"

"Is that the Little Red Riding Hooker model? Isn't wearing such, uh, brief costumes just inviting trouble?"

"Attracting attention is more apropos," said Molly.

"The object is to get noticed by the right people."

"Those outfits will attract attention from everybody, right people, wrong people, the police."

"You want to meet Reginald Orr, don't you? These dresses alone will help us gain access to the inner circle where you can rub elbows with him."

"What if he's not there tonight?"

"Not a problem, we've got clothes as scandalous as this for all three nights."

He screwed up his face. "That's not what I meant."

Molly laughed. "Take it for what it's worth. I think we're finally ready. Has everyone got their invitation?"

~~~~~~~~~~

In years gone by Mercer attended the Cannes festival twice and Berlin once; the Halloween Film Festival at the Kirkbride in Beverly Hills failed to compare. By a long shot. No red carpet or floodlights or elegant theaters in which to watch the films. The promoters had picked the right hotel for a Halloween show; the Kirkbride festered with archaic architectural motifs: columns, gargoyles, cornices, stonework, scrolled balconies and stained glass. Mercer found the convention center across the street stylistically nondescript, interchangeable with any similar 'function' monstrosity strewn across the states from Clovis to Cleveland. Maybe in a few years the Halloween Film Festival would rival Sundance or Tribeca, he thought, but never Cannes. He didn't bring that up to the girls, giddy and excited by being part of the event.

If he deemed Molly and Nova underdressed, some of the other women's outfits by comparison could be labeled indecent exposure. The actresses outnumbered actors he recognized, most of them nobodies, has-beens, C-list at best. This festival had a long road to hoe before it would take a whiff of rarified air. At the convention center a sparse group of onlookers gathered beyond the lone velvet rope appeared nonplussed with all the non-entities parading about. The interested few consisted chiefly of goth kids in doom-and-gloom black costumes and a smattering of photographers from lower echelon tabloids.

Except for watching an old Universal Studios film, 'The Invisible Man Returns,' Thursday night was a washout for Mercer: not a porn star, director or producer in sight. Plenty of actresses circled like hungry vultures, but neither they nor Molly saw or spoke to Sammy Baldwin or Reginald Orr all evening. Mercer knew Molly had Baldwin's phone number and, early on, told her to call him. She did and got no answer. When the call went to voicemail she asked should she leave a message and he nodded to her, but she never got a callback. By evening's end Mercer had met a myriad of minor industry people, shaken fifty or sixty hands and listened to a lot of big talk.

He witnessed one incident he thought out of the ordinary. A very pretty girl from the goth crowd was approached by two men in white dinner jackets, chatted up for a minute and escorted inside the Kirkbride. Mercer trailed after them out of curiosity while Molly and Nova conversed with a restaurant owner and his wife. The liveried doorman of the hotel stopped Mercer when he tried to enter the lobby and informed him he needed to be a registered guest before he could go inside. He was tempted to rent a room for the night but, by then, the young girl with the two men boarded a lift and disappeared from sight when the metal doors closed. He rejoined Nova, Molly and their acquaintances, dismissed the whole affair as a product of his overly suspicious nature.

The three of them cruised back to the La Quinta in the wee hours of Friday morning empty-handed. When Molly announced she planned to retire for the night and wandered into the other room Nova asked Mercer if he'd like to have a nightcap with her in his room. Judging from her bedroom eyes, Mercer declined.

"Why not?" she said sliding closer to him on the twin bed where they sat. She'd downed several glasses of champagne with his niece inside the convention center and seemed tipsy. "Don't you drink?"

"I do on occasion."

"Don't you consider being in Los Angeles an occasion? You're a long way from home."

"You know where a nightcap in my room would lead, Nova."

She toyed with a lock of his hair and asked, "Would that be such a bad thing to wind up in bed together?"

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend. Aren't you in love with him?"

"Not really. No brag, just fact: I have many boyfriends."

"So I'd be only one more convenience for you?"

She stood up, angry. "Why not just call me a whore?"

"I didn't."

"You inferred it."

"I apologize. At least tonight you're not being deceitful."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked in a heated whisper.

"You well know what I mean, that business about nicking one of the bath towels while I was supposed to be asleep. Coming into the bedroom naked."

"I wasn't naked, just getting ready to bathe."

He weighed his words carefully before speaking. "You're not being truthful, Nova. Admit it."

She sat down beside him again and draped her arms around his neck. With a shy grin she said, "Okay, I'm busted. But what harm is there in making love to me?"

"I went into my reasons yesterday."
"There has to be more to it than that. Do you not like Latin girls?"

"Of course I do! You're one of the most beautiful, desirable women I've ever met."

"Why not then? Let's make mad, passionate love."

"I can't, Nova."

"That's not true," she purred in his ear. "I know you're not impotent."

"I didn't mean anything like that."

"What then?" she persisted. "Men bend over backward for the chance to share my bed. You're unlike any man I've ever met."

"I have a daughter, a little older than you, from when I was married."

She nibbled at his earlobe. "Excuse me, but I don't see the significance your family plays in this. You're divorced, I'm single and I want you to hold me in your arms. No harm, no foul."

"Nova, my daughter is a vampire, made into one by an incubus. I killed him, but she vanished without a trace. I've been searching for her for eight years."

Nova put her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry to hear that, Clive. But without trying to come off as impolite, that happened years ago. I still don't fully understand why we can't spend some time alone together while you're in town."

"There are other reasons. Hasn't Molly told you any of this?"

"No. Your niece is amazingly close-mouthed about you."

He got up and stared at the wall. "I have to go now."

Nova rose and put her arms around him again. She drew him close and kissed him. Unlike yesterday, he kissed back, but only for a minute before pulling away to break the kiss. She rested her head on his chest.

"I know you want to, you're hard as iron."

Mercer couldn't deny it, but kept quiet.

"You're not married anymore, Clive."

"Are you proposing to me?"

"Don't be silly. I've watched women stare at you everywhere you go. Don't you ever have any girlfriends or think about remarrying since you and your wife split up?"

"Once or twice, but I am married, in a manner of speaking. To my work."

"Which is either horse manure, or you're losing me again, Clive."

"It wouldn't be fair for me to get involved with any woman. My job is too dangerous. I could die tomorrow or the next day. Or next week."

She exhaled noisily. "So could any of us, in a freeway accident or a fire."

"Those are random acts. I deliberately put myself in harm's way day in and day out."

She sat down on the bed. "Okay already, I get it, you're on a mission. But you have to put the mission on hold sometime and sleep. The danger is at bay tonight. Why sleep alone? I could help you relax, it can't be easy sleeping with a hard on."

"That's what cold showers are for."

"How about a nice warm one instead? I'm soaking."

Mercer had to get out of there before she convinced him to spend the night with her. Reluctant but adamant, he kissed her on the cheek and muttered, "You're too sweet and too young a girl to be messing about with me, Nova. I'll see you later."

Mercer crossed the room to let himself out, expecting her to curse him, but she blew him a kiss and said goodnight. He did likewise and closed the door behind him, very gently.

~~~~~~~~~

Nova woke up early and Molly still slept. She stripped out of the T-shirt and panties she'd worn to bed and put on her bikini to swim a few laps in the pool before bathing. Downstairs she saw Mercer with a cup of coffee at a poolside table reading a paper. Engrossed in what he read, he didn't notice her until she spoke his name. He glanced up, obviously unhappy.

Oh shit, thought Nova. "Clive, what's the matter?

"There's a story about the Halloween Film Festival on page one."

"The front page? I wouldn't've thought the festival merited that kind of coverage in the press."

"It's only mentioned in passing. A girl was murdered in the parking lot of the convention center across the street from the Kirkbride." He tossed the newspaper on the tabletop for her to read and sipped from his coffee cup.

Nova scanned the story. "Hit and run. Police ruling it as a homicide."

"Do you recognize her from the picture?"

"No. The paper says her name was Elaine Farris, a pretty girl, only seventeen. That's sad. Did you happen to know her?"

"I saw her enter the Kirkbride with two men last night."

"Under coercion?"

Mercer shook his head. "She was standing with the other onlookers and the men singled her out. I thought it odd. They talked to her briefly and off the three of them went."

Nova read some more of the news account. "No evidence of sexual assault or any mention about two men. Wonder why the police are calling it murder? Do you think there's a connection between her and what you saw occur with the men?"

"Impossible to speculate at this juncture."

"Maybe you should talk with the police."

"I plan on it," he said. "Molly awake yet?"

"Nope."

"As soon as she's out of bed I'll have her drive me to the precinct house."

"Want to take a swim in the meantime?" Nova asked him meekly.

"Already had mine." Mercer set his cup down and folded the newspaper. "I'm going for a shower. If Molly's still asleep when I get to the room I'll wake her up. I have work to do."

He slung a towel over a broad shoulder and strolled toward the motel, Nova observing the muscles of his hips moving under his swim trunks as he walked away, on another mission. Too bad he hadn't taken her up on her middle-of-the-night offer.

She didn't see Mercer anymore after Molly drove him to the cop shop until he appeared at their room just before they left for the festival that evening, dressed in the olive suit and tennis shoes. She'd obsessed over him all day. He didn't tease them tonight about their scanty clothing and stiletto heels and said little during the drive. She lowered the sun visor on the pretext of checking her lipstick in the mirror and watched his reflection surreptitiously. She couldn't tell if he wore the shoulder holster. Just before she raised the visor back into place he slouched over the front seat to say something to Molly and his jacket hung open.

Nova saw the butt of the pistol.

Molly reminded him, "I'm a writer with the Berkeley Examiner and you're Sir Clive from the London Times."

Mercer grunted he remembered.

Nova chirped, "And I'm a cub reporter for a Catholic paper in Sac, eighteen and fresh out of the convent."

"And decked out in a sequined tube top and hootchie shorts," Molly said, before cracking up.

Mercer remained taciturn and grim-faced.

Nova asked him, "Did you get anywhere talking with the police about the hit and run?"

"They took down my descriptions of the two men and told me they'd instruct the harness bulls keep their eyes peeled. When I talked to a Lieutenant Morris in their supernatural investigations department about a possible snuff flick involving a vampire he said he already knew about it per Molly but needed more legal weight to confiscate Baldwin's print of 'Nude Bloodbath' for review than one young girl saying a movie looked 'too real.'"

"Sounds like a wasted day," Nova commented.

"I thought so too, but I don't intend to waste tonight. This afternoon I registered at the Kirkbride, like I should've done to begin with. I'm in suite 607. I'll procure each of you a key card when we get there in case you need to use the room for an emergency or just to powder your noses."

Molly said, "This is the first time I've seen you serious about the festival since you landed at LAX. You sound super pissed."

"Oh, I'm angry all right. Especially about the Farris girl who got killed by a car."

"But Nikki Nookie was murdered too and you weren't pissed off about her death."

"Sorry, Molly, the porno starlet is merely unaccounted for, there's no proof of a murder yet. With Elaine Farris, the cops have a corpse in a freezer."

Nova asked, "Why are you taking the Farris hit and run so personally? There wasn't anything you could've done to stop it."

"I might have been able to do something before it happened last night, but I let a bloody doorman stand between me and something I sensed very wrong. I've learned to trust my gut instincts over the years and had I stopped those two men that kid might still be alive. Elaine Farris was seventeen, the same age as my daughter Stephanie when a bloodthirsty monster changed her into a vampire. The L.A. squad car coppers can keep their eyes peeled from now till kingdom come, but if I see those two chaps in white dinner jackets I'm intend to get some answers, even if I have to shed blood."

Molly said nothing about Mercer's self-righteous anger, but Nova asked, "Is that the reason you rented a $700 suite at the Kirkbride tonight, to have a private place to ask questions?"

Nova blanched watching his face transform to stone.

"Absolutely. And Sammy Baldwin and an actor billed as Reginald Orr just might be paying a visit too."

They arrived and as soon as Molly parked the car, Mercer marched them straight to the Kirkbride. A doorman in uniform barred their way till he stuck his key card rudely under the man's nose. The fellow apologized and let them pass. Maybe in his haste Mercer forgot Molly and she wore slutty outfits, solemnly informing the lady at the front desk Molly and Nova were his guests. Without a hint of a smile, she handed each girl a gold card to swipe in the suite's door lock to enter the room.

On the elevator to the sixth floor he said, "I want both of you to know exactly where my suite is. If you get in a tight spot go there or call me at this number." He read it off to them standing in the hallway and stood impatiently while they programmed it into their cells. Then he demanded Molly and she give him their numbers and keyed them into a cheap, disposable phone.

"Did you buy that today, Uncle Clive?"

"Yes, and ten hours of minutes. My regular mobile doesn't work in America. I want us all to be able to get in touch in the event we're separated. And from here on out, Molly, you call me Clive, not Uncle Clive, especially around anyone connected with the porn world."

Inside the suite Molly asked, "Sir Clive, why are you acting so paranoid?"

"If anything happens to either of you . . ."

"Nothing will," Molly assured him. "You're going to be next to us the whole time, right?"

"Every step of the way. Unless I need to address business matters."

Molly and Nova didn't question what those might be. Inside the suite he drew the big double-barreled chrome pistol out of his shoulder holster for them to see. He warned the silver darts the gun shot had a bad habit of passing all the way through a target and for the girls to stand clear of the line of fire if they saw him unholster the piece for any reason.

"Do you expect to have to kill anyone tonight?" Nova asked.

"I hope not, but if I run into the real Reginald Orr, yes. My signal to you two will be if I call him Reggie, otherwise I'll be using the name Reginald. If you hear me say Reggie though, take cover."

"But, Uncle Clive---"

He cut her off. "It's Clive, or Sir Clive is fine. Don't forget."

"I won't," she said, saluting him.

"Whether he killed Nikki or not, if he's here, I'm gunning him down."

"But---"

"No buts, Little Miss Molly. You want him dead, don't you?"

"Can't you get into trouble for executing a man?"

"A man, yes; a vampire, no." That's altogether different. S.T.A.L.K.'s charter is recognized in Europe and the United States."

"It's a license to kill?" asked Molly.

"More or less," said Mercer. "Any vampire, werewolf, witch, warlock or other supernatural creature is fair game."

"But not human beings," Nova said, "Even if they are wearing white dinner jackets."

"Correct," he stated. "S.T.A.L.K. gives me, in essence, the rights of a lawman. I can arrest people." He replaced the pistol in the shoulder holster. "Tonight wouldn't be the first time."

"Don't get yourself into any trouble, Clive."

His smile was forced. "And you do the same, Nova. You too, Molly. Are you ladies clear on what you can expect?"

They said they were.

"Then let's get hold of this Sammy Baldwin chap."

"Remember I couldn't reach him yesterday by phone." Molly asked, "Do you know where to find him?"

"Oh, he's here. In the penthouse, also known as the seventh floor of the Kirkbride. His party is registered in suite numbers 700, 702 and 704."

Molly wanted to know how he knew.

"Easy. I asked to be put through to him after I checked in. He apparently wasn't taking any calls at the time, but the desk provided me the suite numbers. Why don't you call him on his mobile again, Molly, and tell him you're here."

She loosened the drawstring of her tiny handbag. "He didn't answer last night."

"That might be because he was on an airplane. I found out this afternoon from various contacts sympathetic to S.T.A.L.K. that Baldwin's been in Brazil, possibly scouting new talent. His party didn't check into the Kirkbride today until one o'clock."

Nova said, "You've been a busy boy, no wonder we haven't seen you all day."

"I told you this morning I had work to do."

Cocky bastard, thought Nova. But she didn't mind.

Molly had dialed Baldwin's cell number while she talked to Mercer. "Hi, Sammy!" she said. "My friends and I---like---just got here. Do you want us to come to your room?" She paused. "That's wonderful. What's your suite number? Okay, yes. Yes, they're dying to meet you. See ya, ciao."

"What's the good word?"

She tucked her cell back into her purse. "He's here like you said. Right now he's in suite 704."

"Let's wait ten minutes, don't want him to think you're inside the hotel. Did he mention anything about the screening of his movie?"

"Nada. He said he flew in from South America this morning."

Nova saw Mercer get a look on his face and, after a moment, realized what puzzled him. "Nada means nothing in Spanish, Clive."

"Ciao, nada? Did you become a linguist since I saw you last, Molly?"

"Not hardly, Sir Clive, just a few buzzwords."

Nova smiled at his misunderstanding. "It's a culture clash common on the west coast, a word here, an expression there."

Molly fidgeted. "I'm so nervous. How about you, Nova?"

"More anxious than nervous."

Mercer shook his head. "Your small talk reminded me I forgot something."

"Back at the motel?" they asked.

"Fortunately not. I bought gifts for you girls. Meant to give them to you back at the motel. Guess I'm a little anxious myself, need to relax a bit."

Nova gave him a naughty glance. "Relax? I recall you saying something about relaxing last night."

"Perhaps you had too much champagne. It was the other way round, love, you brought it up."

Molly glared at Nova. "What are you two talking about?"

"No big deal. Something that came up after you crashed."

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Mercer said. He dipped his hands into each of the side pockets of his jacket.

"Did you two . . .?" asked Molly.

"Never mind. Feast your eyes on this, Little Miss Molly!" In each of his palms he held a small velvet jewelry store box. "This is your present right here." He handed her one of the boxes.

"How sweet! You shouldn't have, Uncle, uh, Sir Clive."

"Why not? You bought me all these clothes." He turned to Nova. "And this one's for my dear Latin friend."

Nova pecked him on the mouth before lifting the lid. Inside nestled a diamond-studded crucifix on a slender silver chain. "Ohmigod! It's beautiful."

Molly held a golden cross on a gold chain between her fingers and gasped, "This is 24 karat! These must have cost a fortune." She hugged Mercer tightly and kissed his cheek.

He helped each of the girls with the clasps, saying: "They're more than just tokens of affection for my two favorite California girls."

Molly didn't understand until Nova explained to her: "These are protection too."

"Duh, I zoned out till just this second. Crosses ward off vampires."

Mercer said, "Hopefully you won't need any protection I can't render. Not tonight anyway. Now let me see the new jewelry around your necks sparkle, ladies. Yes, you both are stunning. Shall we get on with it?"

Two minutes later they reached the door of suite 704. When Molly knocked, Mercer donned his Ray Bans. Nova awarded him a thumb's up. The shades and Converse high tops would sell a certain image inside Baldwin's suite, very L.A.

She pitched her voice low. "Are those your vampire-proof sunglasses with specially treated lenses?" When he ignored her question she knew they were. Nervous energy drove Mercer, he was ready to rock and roll. Off the leash, off the porch, off and running!

~~~~~~~~~~

The suite bustled with activity. Three or four young women wore abbreviated Halloween costumes, twenty more loitered in various stages of undress and a handful of men looked extremely pleased with themselves, maybe just glad to be there, or perhaps actors. If they were actors, Reggie wasn't one of them. A sex vignette flashed on a big screen TV, the sound off and no one watching. From somewhere a radio played classic rock; a wet bar in the corner dispensed alcohol. Everyone had a glass. Sammy Baldwin was jowly man approximately fifty. His curly hair receded and he strutted around in cream colored shoes, his paunch exposed in an unbuttoned shirt tucked into white ducks, his necklaces adrift in a mat of chest hair. Sweat glistened in a sheen on his forehead and upper lip. Nova had referred to him as a fast-talker and she wasn't wrong. Words streamed out of his mouth, convoluted and strung together, a man blessed with the ability to conduct three disparate conversations at once. To Mercer's chagrin, Baldwin didn't pay much attention to Molly and Nova after greeting them. Mercer knew the competition for the producer's time would be fierce, but hadn't expected two dozen other girls dressed in less than his niece and Nova lounging about the same room.

"At midnight we'll preview 'Nude Bloodbath' on the TVs in all three of our suites. The cast will make an appearance but none of them are here yet," Baldwin imparted to Molly before a willowy blonde starlet in a fishnet tank top and short skirt intruded.

She lifted her skirt to show she had no underwear on, cupped her plump pussy to distract Baldwin and asked, "Do you think my kitty is photogenic, Sammy?" She pulled her wet lips apart. "I'd like your professional opinion."

Baldwin leered. "Duty calls, Molly." He led the starlet away holding her hand and saying, "To judge how well your pussy will photograph, Stormi, I need to see it under better lighting. Let's try in one of the bedrooms."

"Okay!" Stormi the starlet blurted.

"See what I mean, Sir Clive," Molly said. "He's a horndog with a capital aitch. Full of shit and Viagra."

"Is Stormi auditioning?"

"It sure sounded like one in the making to me."

"What will you say if he asks you to audition tonight? You said you would if he got the film festival invitations."

"No way. I'd tell him I changed my mind."

"How about you, Nova?"

"I never say never. I'd audition if the co-stars were hot enough." She winked at him.

Mercer couldn't tell if she was joking or trying to get under his skin.

The thought fled his mind when two men in black suits came through the door of the suite. They weren't in their white dinner jackets tonight. Nova caught him staring at them while Molly chatted up a pair of the competition.

Nova said in his ear, "Are those two the Elaine Ferris connection?"

"I'm quite sure."

"How can you link them to Sammy, other than they're here? So are a lot of others. You saw those guys outside last night but told us Sammy's party didn't check in until one today."

"Maybe they're his advance men traveling a day ahead of the entourage making sure the hotel and limousine reservations are in order. That would put them here last night."

"What's your plan on getting them to one side to answer questions? If they'll even talk to you."

"Dunno. Divide and conquer? They came in together, they may leave together."
"You'll follow them out and leave Molly and me here alone?"

"I promise not to be long. You should be safe enough in this mob. Too many witnesses."

"Will you try to force those two to talk in your suite? They'd never consent to going there. You need a Plan B."

Mercer scratched at an eyebrow, pretending to think. "I'm a forward person, direct; not too good at planning."

"You're crazy, Clive, I'm worried for you."

"For my safety? Got any better suggestions?"

She didn't.

He kissed her on the cheek. "You worry too much, Nova. I taught unarmed combat in the British Commandos."

"But what if they're carrying guns?"

"We'd be three of kind then."

Nova shook her head, agitated.

She went back to mingling with the guests and Mercer waited. And waited. The men in suits circulated among the others crowding the suite. They said hello to a flush-faced Baldwin after Stormi completed her audition. She balanced against him reapplying her lipstick. The temperature and the volume of conversation rose as the liquor continued to flow. Scented plumes of marijuana intermingled with the smog of cigarette smoke floating in the air. Mercer impatiently glanced at his watch, two and a half hours since the two men arrived. They talked a long time with a director Molly knew, then suddenly set down their drinks and headed toward the door.

Mercer took his dark glasses off. "Time to stretch me legs," he hissed to Molly and Nova. "You two stick together."

"You're out of here?" they asked.

"Back in two seconds." He slid the glasses into the breast pocket of his jacket and followed the two men out of the suite.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Where the fuck is he going?" Molly swore as Mercer cut through the crowd on his way out.

"I think you know. I hope he keeps it cool," Nova whispered.

"Who keeps what cool?" a man's voice asked. A new voice. "Pardon my interrupting, girls. You enchanted me across the length of the room. I am Reginald Orr, I'm in the cast of 'Nude Bloodbath.'"

Nova locked eyes with him and felt instantly mesmerized. She experienced the moment when two people of the opposite sex meet and subconsciously decide whether they'd fuck the other. Yes, she would definitely do Reginald Orr, despite him being rail thin and scraggly haired. The dude also wore oddball make up; a scalene triangle of black greasepaint around his eyes like an eerie domino mask. Some unknown quantity or X-factor attracted her enormously to him, she couldn't pinpoint what. He turned his riveting gaze on Molly, who increased the wattage of her smile, squared her back and shook her breasts at him. She placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder, bent close to lick his ear, her eyes ablaze with distant fire, one of her fingertips tracing a path on the zipper of his trousers. What had come over Molly all of a sudden? Without realizing it Nova brushed her tits against Orr's arm, rested a hand on his butt familiarly. She identified the urge to fawn over him and resisted, yet unable to stop touching him. Her pussy secreted heavily. What had come over her?

Molly and she readily accepted Orr's suggestion that they relocate to suite 700. "Not as many people, it's cozy, more private," he said. Nova hung onto his every word. Very few moments later they entered the other suite, a dimly lit room, stunned by the video cameras on tripods and lights with umbrella reflectors. More ominous than the photography equipment were the men inside the suite. They appeared creepy and old to Nova, more than a dozen of them and they were the only two women. Molly and Nova traded a glance signifying they mutually wished to leave this place. But neither one moved. Even when the men formed in a circle around them, placed intimate hands on their bodies.

Reginald Orr stepped in front of Nova, bid her to kneel and looked down at her, smiling. "What is your name?"

She trembled. "Nova Nobarro."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"And what brings a girl like you to Sammy Baldwin's party?" Orr's voice was affable, reasonable, his questions imbued with genuine interest, not probing curiosity.

She hesitated before telling him anything. "My editor sent me to cover the Halloween Film Festival. I write entertainment features for a Catholic periodical."

"A religious publication?"

"It's called 'Modern Catholic.'" All Nova could think about was the outline of Orr's dick in the tight pants he wore bulging only inches from her tongue.

His eyes lit on the diamond-studded cross Mercer had given her. "Do you think of yourself as a religious individual, Nova?"

"You might say that, I left a convent in May."

A murmuring spread through the men in the room. Nova felt a heated wetness intensifying between her legs. Orr stroked her chin with long fingers. A tangible sensuality radiated from him she could smell and feel, his words honeyed.

He dragged the crucifix around the chain until it hung out of sight behind her back, handling it like it burned his fingers. His spoke as gently as his hands moved, "Do you not find it queer, Nova, a religious publication assigned you to view and review pornography?" His eyes seemed unnaturally white surrounded in the triangle of black make up.

"My editor wants an article on the mainstream Halloween movies old and new, not porn films. She'd have a cow if she knew I hung out with Sammy Baldwin."

"Interesting, it leads back to the original question. Since you told us Sammy's porn crew is not part of your assignment, what's the real reason you're kneeling there right now, Nova?"

More trembling. "Maybe it's because I feel repressed after five years in the convent. I quit because eventually I want to marry and have kids. But for now I want to be free, y'know, just to live, to have fun, to experiment. I don't have much experience with guys."

The men muttered among themselves again. Orr stooped on his knees in front of Nova. He pushed a hand into her spandex shorts, she hadn't worn panties with them. She got his questing fingers all wet, they sent a carnal shiver snaking through her. He sensed it even though she tried not to be so obvious.

"Lovely Nova, do you feel experimental tonight?"

"Unusually experimental."

"Enough to make a short movie?"

"Anything," she panted, "Just so long as we do something."

Orr manipulated her clitoris, snickering when she groaned. He slid his roving hand out of her shorts and stood, rubbing his wet fingers together grandly over the top of his head. "She's very aroused," he said and the men roared. Orr nodded at Nova to stand and announced: "She is ready, gentlemen. Do what you will."

He kissed her quickly on the lips and retreated to a loveseat pushed against the wall, in the shadows.

Two men bared Nova's breasts lifting her top over her head and off. One guy peeled her sticky shorts down to the middle of her thighs. A burly man in a suit bent her body forward at the waist and handcuffed her hands behind her. She contemplated the long blue vibrator in another one's fist and soon felt it nuzzling the mouth of her cunt. It excited her beyond belief to have an orgasm with all those men watching. The humming vibrator had her babbling incoherencies of joy and her body quivering. After dallying in Nova's pussy, the vibrating toy journeyed up the crack of her ass seeking a new destination. A pair of hands parted the cheeks of her ass wide and the other, operating the vibrator, nosed the well-lubricated tip relentlessly against the ring of upraised flesh until it inevitably gave way. She shuddered and bit her lower lip, eyes clenched shut. The device moved slowly and gently in and out of her an inch at a time until, several minutes later, lodging deeply inside her anus, where it remained. Nova couldn't see, but it felt entrenched up to the cap, whirring away, stimulating her inner slut. She felt simultaneously humiliated and thrilled when the men made rude comments about the expression of her face.

Someone hitched her shorts back up with the vibrator still buried in her asshole, transmitting tickling waves of sensation throughout the nerve centers of her body. She squatted on her knees when urged and opened her eyes to a thicket of dicks pointed at her face. The head of one long, thick shaft touched her lips. She opened her mouth to allow entry and struggled to deep throat it the first time. It took several tries.

"That's the biggest dick I've seen in my whole life," gasped Nova.

"Not that you've seen all that many," Orr called from the loveseat. "You said you only left the convent five months ago."

"But I got to see a few in that timeframe."

That dick was soon replaced with another one seeking to wedge itself down her throat. Before she knew it a fifth man's replacement embedded itself in her mouth, one of his hands gripped under her chin, the other pushing at the back of her head to make her comply with his whims. The more pricks Nova sucked, the more the men seemed better looking and younger than she remembered earlier.

She wanted to satisfy them, wanted to suck every single one.

Through watery eyes during a lighting change Nova saw Molly sprawled next to Orr in the loveseat now. Nova knew a moment of envy, she desired Orr for herself, but had her hands and mouth full at the time. Orr investigated under Molly's skirt, a hand inside her panties. They exchanged sloppy kisses, he obviously finger fucked her. No cameras filmed the loveseat action, Nova dominated the limelight fellating her many co-stars. She was the star attraction, but Molly didn't wait idly by for her turn in front of the lens. She began giving Orr's organ a tongue bath as Nova got preoccupied again. The next time Molly came into view she had her head in Orr's lap sucking his dick. He started coming and doused her face twice until she got his spewing member back between her lips to capture the rest of what came out of him. In a show of enthusiasm Molly swallowed every morsel deposited in her mouth.

Nova became sidetracked once more. She'd sucked on seven or eight different pricks and none of the guys had come for her yet, but that changed when two of them painted her face in the span of a minute. A third shot made her glasses hard to see out of. The fourth actor approached, wagging his etched ebony dick under her nose, advising her he'd be coming in her mouth. His bitter and voluminous tribute went down as warm as a shot of Tequila. The vibrator buzzed away in her ass during it all, the spandex crotch of the shorts slippery wet with juice seeping from her pussy.

Through the haze she thought she saw two men leading another man to the loveseat where Orr sat. It was Mercer! Where had he come from? Did he have handcuffs on? Nova couldn't see his eyes but could feel them when they dwelled on her. In fact, she came the hardest of all the times she had that evening with his dark glasses turned in her direction.

~~~~~~~~~

Mercer inclined his head to the two men in the corridor, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets, unassuming, unthreatening. He made no attempt at conversation as he waited with them for the lift to arrive. If no one else occupied the car, Mercer would ride down with just the two men. All his impatient waiting might pay off. He'd had an abundance of time to formulate his line of interrogation, to wring as much information out of them with the fewest questions possible.

The metal doors slid apart and the three of them shuffled into the vacant lift. Such luck! Mercer stood with them on his right. When the car started to descend he pressed the Emergency Stop button. They lurched to a sickening halt. He swung around to face them.

One guy asked, "Whatcha think ya doin'?"

The other guy asked, "What is this, pal?"

"You gentlemen sound like out-of-state help," said Mercer. "I saw you last night in your white jackets with the girl. Who drove the car?"

"Whatcha talkin' about, wiseass?"

"You know precisely what I'm talking about."

The one closest to Mercer jabbed at him and threw a series of punches. He countered each blow in the palms of his hands to lessen the impact and deflect away. The second man decided to enter the discussion. Mercer slammed him against the side of the lift by shoving the other man into him. A chop to the neck disabled the first one's ability to attack, he toppled in a heap. Mercer knew the lad would experience muscle spasms for the next several minutes and not be a spot of trouble.

He asked the conscious one: "Who drove the car?"

"What do you mean, pal?"

"You have till three to answer, on four you'll have a broken nose." Mercer counted, "One, two . . ."

"Are you a cop?"

"Answering a question with a question isn't an answer," he said. And broke the guy's nose.

The man slid down the side of the lift into a sitting position. Mercer hauled him to his feet by his shirtfront.

"A cop can't fuckin' do that!" blustered the man.

"I'm not a policeman, I do what I want." He tagged the guy on the nose with his fist a second time, holding him by the shirt to prevent him from collapsing. "Who ran over the girl?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, mister."

Mercer could suss out a lie from a kilometer away. He produced the large chrome-plated pistol and pressed the barrels to the man's forehead above his left eye. Thumbing back the two hammers echoed dramatically in the enclosed space.

He said, "Talk to me."

The man wiped the blood off his mouth to speak. He talked for a minute or two. Mercer asked him a question. The chap answered and Mercer asked more questions. By the time the one on the ground could stand without wobbling, he knew most of what he wanted to know. The Farris girl agreed to meet some 'movie people,' balked when she realized they were porn 'movie people,' got slapped around when she said she wished to leave. She sneaked off and, fearing she might cry cop, one of the men followed her in a car into the convention center parking lot.

Mercer went through the men's pockets in the lift while he trained the pistol on them. They carried security badges inside flip wallets but no guns. Mercer transferred those into his coat, they might be of use getting him through a few doors. He let the two men know he was making a citizen's arrest and detaining them for the police. He fiddled with the panel of buttons in the lift to get the bloody thing up to the sixth floor. The prisoners complained, but preceded him down the empty corridor to his suite. He handed one of them his key card and ordered him to open the door.

Inside he made them lie facedown on the floor and called the desk. "Would you trot the house detective up to 607, love, it's quite urgent." He hung up before the girl could ask questions. That should bring the hotel cop running.

Mercer clicked on Molly's number. Ringing then voicemail. He called Nova and got the same thing. An icy feeling of panic settled around his shoulders like a blanket. Why didn't they pick up? He'd only been gone ten minutes. He continuously tried calling both girls until the house detective knocked. A big, solid guy, but in his sixties, a retired sheriff perhaps. Mercer swiftly explained the situation, but the old boy seemed very reticent. He didn't want to detain any men for the police while Mercer ran off to an emergency elsewhere in his hotel; he suggested they do it the other way around. Mercer overcame those objections with four hundred dollar bills. The house detective had a revolver, Mercer left feeling confident he had his prisoners under control.

Now to find Molly and Nova. He ran down the corridor, flung open the door to the stairwell. No time to wait for the lift. He tore up the stairs and put his dark glasses back on before trying the doorknob of suite 704. Locked, he guessed it would be. But simply by knocking someone let him. He crisscrossed the room through the people but saw neither of the girls. He methodically opened the rest of the doors in the suite claiming he thought it was the bathroom when anyone snapped at him. Molly and Nova weren't in 704.

Mercer found Baldwin in the living room area with a hive of so-called actresses buzzing around him. He talked rapidfire to three different girls, gesturing with an unlit cigar. Mercer stopped him in mid sentence. No, Baldwin hadn't seen Molly or the senorita recently, the last time he had they'd been talking with Reginald Orr. Mercer calmly asked where to find him. Orr would be partying, Baldwin guessed, in one of the other suites. Mercer didn't want to cause a ruckus and backed off. Once in the corridor, he desperately knocked on the doors of Baldwin's other suites. A man stuck his head out of 702.

Mercer said brusquely, "I'm looking for a couple of girls."

"You'll probably want to look in 704, fella."

Mercer pushed through the door, his eyes scanning the room. In the near dark couples sat around talking, drinking, having sex. He didn't see Molly or Nova.

"What's with barging in here like a one-man army, fella?"

"Terribly rambunctious of me, sincerest apologies. I am Sir Clive, with the Times. I'm running behind for the interview with Reginald Orr. Is he in here?"

His British accent and the lie placated the man, who acted anxious to avoid any sort of physical confrontation with Mercer. "Reginald was here, but he left fifteen twenty minutes ago," the man volunteered.

Mercer thanked him and knocked at suite 700. Same deal, a man cracked the door and didn't want to let him in. He explained he needed to find Orr for a newspaper interview. The man shook his head, Orr was busy, come back later. Mercer exerted more force to push his way in than in the first room, the man who had been talking to him was much bigger. The idiot cocked back his fist and, while in that ridiculous pose, Mercer struck him smartly in the solar plexus. He sank to his knees, green. Another large bloke appeared keen to dive on Mercer, but changed his mind when Mercer warned him away with a dirty look and moving his head slowly from side to side.

He saw lights and cameras when he entered the room. Lots of people too. He wasn't surprised the altercation at the door attracted none of their attention. They had it focused on the floor show, a girl sandwiched between several men on the floor, her brunette hair hanging in her face. Mercer swiveled his head searching for Reginald Orr, hoping he knew the whereabouts of the girls. His eyes came to rest on a wild-haired geezer with a horizontal streak of paint across his face like a mask. With the extreme make up, Mercer couldn't discern if he was Reggie or not. He did know the blonde girl sitting in a daze beside the man, totally naked except for her glasses and high-heels. Little Miss Molly! Glancing at the heap of people writhing in front of the cameras, Mercer recognized the star of the floor show when her hair no longer obscured her face: Nova. His heart sank.

He shifted his eyes back to the made-up man next to Molly. While trying to determine if he was Reggie, the man gave Mercer a sign of recognition. He waved and pointed in greeting, Mercer thought. And thought wrongly he learned as the two burly guys he'd exchanged pleasantries with at the door tackled him from behind. Orr had been signaling to them, not Mercer. The sight of his vacant-eyed, naked niece and Nova at her worst had put him off his game. Mercer crashed into the floor hard, the man he'd hit in the stomach earlier yanked the chrome-plated pistol from his shoulder holster and aimed it at him. Nova's multiple partner performance ground to a standstill, every eye on Mercer and the man with the painted face.

He rose from the loveseat, stepped over to him and made a short bow. "Reginald Orr, at your service."

Mercer knew that now, too little too late, or he'd have fired a silver projectile into Reggie's heart before he got his gun taken away from him. He still had two silver daggers in ankle sheathes the man shaking him down overlooked. Both men jerked him to his feet and held his arms secure. Orr tapped a forefinger on Mercer's chest, chuckling.
"I think you know who I am, but I'm positive I know who you are. Clive Mercer from S.T.A.L.K."

"Sir Clive from the London Times rather."

"Whatever rather," spat Reggie. "Lose the charade, Mercer. People of the night like myself have to protect themselves from people like you. You remember Buenos Aries a few years ago? Some of the Raven Cadre got onto Baroness Ingrid von Schitt, ex-colonel, Vampire Korps. I was there, you were there too, Mercer, but you didn't see me. Not you or Monika Hex or any one in that slew of assassins she brought to Argentina. I shot two rolls of photographs of everyone in your hunting party. They were telephoto, but the developed pictures came out crisp. I've since mailed copies to the important vampire families and circles across the globe. Mercer, you seem like quite an up-and-coming supernatural terminator."

"'Fraid you have me mixed up with someone else."

"And you are mixed up with someone else, aren't you? In this very room. You know who I'm talking about. The naked blonde babe with glasses over on the loveseat, out of it like a zombie. Her name is Molly Mercer, which by coincidence is your last name too."

"It's a common enough name."

"Yes, but I know she happens to be your niece."

"You seem to know a lot of things."

"Knowledge is power. Welcome to Los Angeles, man from S.T.A.L.K." he said sarcastically. To the men pinning his arms: "Does one of you have another pair of handcuffs? Good. Bracelet this fuck and let's get the party started again. We'll throw a helluva Halloween bash Mister Clive Mercer will never forget, for the rest of his life."

He stared into Mercer's eyes as if to hypnotize him, but neglected to remove his dark glasses that somehow had not fallen off when he got tackled. Maybe the clever Reginald Orr didn't have as much intelligence on vampire bounty hunters as he thought: he didn't seem to know of the existence of special lenses treated to resist a vampire's gaze. To better the very slim odds Mercer fell into a docile role, obedient as a somnolent. Cameras rolling, the manhandling of Nova resumed. Onlookers resumed watching. Reggie told the handcuffed Mercer to sit on the loveseat next to his niece then he sat on the other side with Molly in the middle. She stared into space, didn't acknowledge him. Reggie had her in a trance.

If he had Molly in one he probably had Nova too. She looked under the influence of a spell, although not as powerful as the one woven around Molly. Nova seemed more alert, her wits about her, more cognitive of what she was doing and being done to her, and enjoying it. Mercer saw her spot him sitting with Molly and Reggie. Vague recognition flickered on her come splattered face just before one of the naked men plugged a distracting erection into her mouth. Another extracted a blue vibrator from her asshole and replaced it with the real thing. With her bottom filled, Nova had a dick tucked into all three of her orifices. She met Mercer's gaze, crying out at the onset of a fresh series of body-wracking orgasms.

Orr lifted Molly's right leg and drooped it over Mercer's lap, he moved her other leg across his lap to spread-eagle her naked body. She came out of her trance when Reggie kissed her, he massaged her shaven pubes in his hand and Mercer heard the wet sound of Molly getting finger banged. Reggie didn't order him to watch so he didn't. Soon after he withdrew his fingers to hold under Mercer's nostrils. "I promised you a Halloween you'd remember and this is only the beginning. Smell your niece's lust."

Mercer smelt it when Reggie still had his fingers in the girl. He refused to become outraged and kept his eyes forward. Play the game carefully and he might get a lucky break.

Reggie said to him, "Look at Molly. Is this not the greatest piece of ass you ever laid eyes on?"

Mercer needed to appear pliant, suggestible; he looked. For his benefit, Reggie palmed one of Molly's outstanding breasts. He tweaked a nipple until it hardened before running his hand down to her pussy. She moaned. Fortunately she was blissfully ignorant of Mercer's presence, Reggie's was bad enough. By degrees Mercer looked away. What Nova currently engaged in was as unpalatable as watching his niece without a stitch being mauled.

Mercer avoided either girl trying keep up with the location of his double-barreled pistol; he'd need it to get the girls out of this predicament. One of the burly brothers had taken possession of the gun. Mercer saw the man gingerly slide it in his waistband, take a few uncomfortable steps, remove the pistol and set it down on a coffee table pushed into a corner. If Mercer could get out of the handcuffs, if he could make it across the room and if he succeeded in reclaiming his pistol he might be able to turn the tables. A prodigious amount of ifs. He might as well slip off a shoe, a difficult maneuver to execute in a high-topped sneaker, and throw a dagger at the vampire with the toes of his ruddy feet.

The vampire wouldn't let Mercer be, he wanted to play more games, provoke him. "Molly's in a dick-sucking mood. But which one of us will she indulge herself with? Ahh, choices, choices. You're going to do the picking, I leave the choice entirely up to you. Does she suck me? Or does she suck you, Mercer?"

In an effort to maintain his spurious subservience he said languidly, "That's a devil's bargain. Even Bela Lugosi wouldn't have inflicted that on a victim."

"A man of wit, after my own heart," Reggie chuckled. Then, in an unfriendly tone, he commanded: "If you elect not to choose I will be compelled to."

Mercer struggled to keep the dismay off his face. "I did not believe you were being serious?"

"Oh, I'm damned serious, Mercer. I'll make the choice for you." Reggie touched a finger to Molly's face and kissed her. He raised his voice to be heard over Nova's latest declarations of pleasure, "Hey, beautiful, I want you to unzip the man to your right and give him a better blowjob than the one you gave me earlier."

"Sure!" she said brightly.

Not unlike Stormi the starlet, thought Mercer. Molly's fingers skipped across his lap and drew the tab of his zipper down. She wormed a cool hand into his boxers to free an erection to rival the one Nova roused the night before. It thrust upward from his lap, rigid above her fist grasping him at the base. He strived in vain to pull free of the handcuffs binding his wrists. He could no longer disavow what was happening as Molly bent forward over his embarrassing hardness, on the precipice of sucking her own uncle's prick. Mercer had to stop her.

"Let me choose, Reggie, I've changed my mind."

"You'd rather she suck my dick than yours?"

He paused, ashamed. "Yes."

Reggie tapped Molly on the shoulder with her lips an inch from the head of Mercer's dick. She froze in place. He told Mercer, "You tell her, I want her to hear it straight from your lips."

He hesitated as much as he dared. Finally: "Change of plan, sweetheart, suck off Reggie instead."

Molly whispered, eyes faraway, "I can suck you both, if you'd like."

"Not me, please. Only him."

"Your uncle wants to watch you blow me. First, flaunt your deep throat skills on my cock. Oh, that is divine, you little bitch, oh god. You made the wrong decision, Mercer, you're good to go and you turned this down. Keep your eyes on her, don't turn your head to the fucking side!"

He fought in vain against the cuffs between his back and the furniture cushion. Molly's slurping and Nova's vocal outbursts played like an infuriating neverending song in his head, hopping from ear to ear. He closed his eyes but couldn't blot out the sounds the two girls made.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nova wanted to stop, but not because she wasn't enjoying the love and attention. Even with sunglasses on she read the pain in Mercer's eyes. Shame inhibited her then, she hated for him to see her behaving this way, she'd never done anything close to this before in her life, not on her wildest night. Molly burrowed her face in Orr's loins and Nova felt sorry for Mercer, for the first time since meeting him. A strong man defenseless to do anything about the indignities visited upon his niece must have scored ragged scratches on his soul. He was red-faced, angry, and, if Nova remembered right, had his hands cuffed behind him.

That's what surprised her, seeing Mercer with his hands free. His right hand hiked up his pants leg while Orr concentrated on applying himself to Molly's slavering mouth. He took something silver out of his sock and jabbed it into Orr's chest. When he whipped the object back for a second strike, Nova saw a blade coated in blood before it stabbed Orr in the heart again. She'd known about the handcuffs, known about Mercer's pistol, but she'd not known a thing about a knife. It thrust into Orr's chest a third time.

Molly continued to suck, oblivious of the mayhem unfolding inches above her bobbing head. Once Reginald Orr slumped dead Molly made a miraculous recovery. She saw Orr, saw her uncle, glanced down at her nudity and screeched, frantically covering her private parts with her hands. Nova regained a clarity of vision when Orr died, his spell on her dying with him.

Few people in the room noticed Mercer go about his grisly business, he accomplished it in such economical fashion. The various men grouped around Nova reacted when the man in the suit who'd handcuffed her shouted, everyone looked toward the loveseat. The man who cried out rushed Mercer as he distanced Molly from the deceased, another man in a suit hot on his heels, incoming. A pair of handcuffs flashed on Mercer's left wrist as he whirled to meet their attack and a flurry of violence erupted, all three men flailing their arms, punching, kicking, snarling.

The door opened from the corridor. Sammy Baldwin stumbled into the room. Crowding the doorway behind him ranged a group of men with gold badges hanging from their breast pockets or on lanyards around their necks. Nova saw Lieutenant Morris of the S.I.D. first, then several others she knew, some she wished she didn't.

The lieutenant bellowed, "Police!" and let the occupants of the suite know they were under arrest. The men stopped fighting with Mercer and asked on what charges.

"Murder, rape, pandering, to name a few. They'll read you the whole list at the precinct." Morris said to the detectives: "All right, get these scumbags out of here."

Two minutes later the only people in the room besides police officers were Nova, Molly and Mercer. And Orr's corpse, a bright red splotch or two staining his shirt, vampires didn't bleed much. One of the cops had pitched Molly a blanket and she put her clothes on under it, but Nova still crouched handcuffed on the floor.

"'Bout time you got here, lieutenant," she said, come dripping off her cheeks and chin onto her tits. Globs oozed out of Nova's widespread asshole and open-mouthed pussy too, adding to the puddles on the carpet under her.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself at any rate, Babyface."

"Babyface?" exclaimed Mercer.

"That's right," said Lieutenant Morris said, "Nova 'Babyface' Nobarro, L.A. Vice."

Molly perked up, "She may look like a teenager fresh out of the convent. But she's never set a foot inside one and she's twenty four years old."

Nova yapped at her, "How many times have I asked you not to tell people how old I am? I'm eighteen."

Molly gave a bark of laugher. "Back in 2003 maybe."

"It would never have happened if your uncle hadn't gotten me so hot and bothered last night."

"But you love your job and give it your all," the lieutenant said drolly.

Mercer turned to Molly, "So after I discouraged you from joining S.T.A.L.K. you took another dangerous job, undercover vice."

"But a girl can't make a living writing entertainment features alone, Uncle Clive, she needs a second income." She covered a laugh with her hand.

"What's the gag?" Mercer wanted to know.

"We had to keep it from you, Uncle Clive, that Nova and I are on the vice squad. The L.A.P.D. just stung Sammy Baldwin's ass good. Lieutenant, did you get them on white slavery?"

Morris' face creased like crumpled paper. "White slavery might not hold up, but murder will, and conspiracy to commit. Most of them will lawyer up, but we'll net a few big fish."

Molly asked, "Do the murder charges stem from the hit and run last night?"

"No, but the security men's spontaneous information to your uncle got us a driver's name and a make and model of the car. The D.A.'s office filed suspicion of murder charges on Reginald Orr late today after a citizen reported a dog roaming around a dump with a human head. It used to belong to Nikki Nookie and gave us a reason to finally move on Sammy Baldwin and company. A lot is circumstantial until the DNA results are in."

Babyface groused, "Would you mind getting the keys to these handcuffs from the guys in the hallway before they all get on the elevator?"

A cop wrapped a sheet around Nova to hide her nakedness. She watched Mercer hustle out of the suite and into the corridor. Seconds later he returned with the key to unlock the handcuffs holding her. After he opened the manacles on her wrists he went to collect his chrome pistol off a table by the wall. Not one of the Supernatural Investigation Department detectives hassled him. Nova knew since the operation began they'd wanted an expert like Mercer to deal with any vampires involved, real or imagined. Molly had told the department she could entice her uncle to America, that he was capable of taking down the most dangerous of vampires. And Mercer lived up to Molly's boast. He'd killed a powerful incubus both the local authorities and S.T.A.L.K. wanted dead.

No more Reginald Orr, vampire-at-large.

Nova's hands went to the crucifix Mercer bought her. "The cross didn't repel Orr the way I thought it would, only singed his fingers."

"Reggie was over a hundred years old, quite powerful, and doubtless with a high tolerance to bounty hunters' tools of the trade. S.T.A.L.K. suspected he was an incubus. You two girls confirmed it, Reggie ruled your sexual energy, and Molly's. I compliment you on the way you combated his vampiric trance, well done."

"Orr didn't control me a hundred per cent. Or as much as he did Molly. I got away with a few lies like the convent and my age, but he still controlled too much."

"Seems to me you resisted well," he said, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

She was unsure which way to interpret his double-edged statement, encouraging or facetious. Instead she asked him, "How'd you get out of the handcuffs they had clamped on you anyway?"

"Goes back to my escape artist days. Fortunately Houdini wasn't the only man who could dislocate his bones to shrug off ropes and bracelets. I've kept in practice."

"You mentioned that, Clive, but you didn't mention a damn thing about the knife in your sock."

"Leg sheath actually," he said. "I'm not the only person in this room however who doesn't tell anybody everything."

"That figures, knowing you." She stuck her tongue out at him. "I didn't withhold much from you."

"Neither did I, Nova. What's a dagger or two among friends anyway?"

She knew Mercer acted jocular but wondered what he thought of her after tonight's antics. Did the pleasure she derived from her many partners and her wild abandon, hypnotized or not, appall him or turn him on? Seeing her wallow around like a slut had gotten him hard. She figured Molly had nothing to do with it, Mercer turned his head when Orr displayed his niece's body, and looked ill whenever the man laid a hand on her.

Nova never got to ask him whether he loathed her now or lusted after her with a whole new outlook; most of the night S.I.D. debriefed him in a separate room from Molly and her.

~~~~~~~~~

Early Saturday afternoon at the La Quinta, Mercer said his goodbyes to Molly and Nova. Nova glowed like only a beautiful woman can after a long night of sex. He forced his eyes off her.

"You're leaving, Uncle Clive? All ready?"

"Yes. Got a debriefing in Prague and the mountain of paperwork that comes with it."

"Surely you don't have to fly out today, you were up all night."

"It would be best, I've a lot on me plate with this Reggie kill."

"You know that can wait."

"I don't like unfinished business. My flight's in two hours."

"Well, at least let us drive you to the airport."

"Wouldn't dream of bothering you. The cab'll be right round." He cursed himself for a bastard. Molly's eyes saddened when he told her; he didn't hazard a glance at Nova.

After a protracted pause Molly asked, "Are you disappointed in me, Uncle Clive?"

"For being a vice cop?"

"I don't mean that, I mean what happened last night with that vampire and me. Do you think I'm a . . . . slut?"

"Lord, no, Molly. You were under a spell. I wished I could've prevented it, but reality isn't like a movie. Everyone survived at least, minus some wear and tear. You're all right, aren't you?"

"I'll get over it. My virginity was history years ago so the Kirkbride wasn't that traumatic. I don't remember much anyway."

"You put my mind at ease. I really must be going now."

"What are you rushing off for?"

"Things to do, S.T.A.L.K. begrudges any sleep I get."

"That is so not the reason."

"I love you, Molly," was all he knew to say.

"I love you too," she hugged him and kissed his cheek.

Before she got to the connecting room Mercer saw tears in her eyes. The door slammed. Bastard, he thought.

He said to Nova, "Talk to her for me, would you."

"I'll do what I can. Can't you at least stay for the last night of the Halloween Film Festival?"

"I got what I came for."

"You didn't get everything." Nova stared down at her shoes. "You didn't get me."

"Maybe that's why I'm leaving. Before I do something we both might regret with time." The thought of what he had watched those girls go through pained him. Or was it that? Maybe something he couldn't admit put him in a foul mood. Perhaps what really pained him was how aroused he'd become seeing Nova getting it. Shame burned in his gut and she burned like a bright light. Mercer was a moth to her flame. He could've fallen for her if he'd let himself. But knowing what he knew about her now, and himself, he was glad he hadn't. A horn honked outside. Mercer glanced through the window. "My transportation has arrived. Be seeing you."

Nova asked, "So you're outta here, just like that?"

"Would you want me hanging around?" he asked knowing the answer.

"We could book a room for the weekend, just the two of us. Molly thinks you're leaving anyway. I can keep a secret."

How many other secrets are you keeping, darling, wondered Mercer and immediately felt worse than he already did. He realized he'd never love a woman he couldn't trust, one like Nova Nobarro. He saw it in her eyes, she knew it too.

He looked at the carpet, his teeth chewing the inside of his cheek. After a minute he said, "Maybe our paths will cross one of these days."

"Yeah, maybe one of these days," she said, flippant. "Why not today?"

"One of these days," he repeated. For her sake, hopefully not.

Was he still in denial? Maybe he meant for his sake. He may not be able to respect her, but he had to respect himself. What a laugh riot! What had she called him the other night? Sanctimonious? How right she'd been. Add judgmental to the list. The girl had had a good time with all those men, too good a time. Why should that trouble him? He didn't know the answer and wasn't sure he wanted to.

The cab honked again.

Mercer picked his Halliburtons off the floor and Nova opened the motel door for him. He set the suitcases down and extracted a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, pressed it into her hand.

"What the hell's this for?" she asked.

"Give that to Molly and tell her it came from you. Personally, I say you earned it."