Ginny Page 11

  “Tell me,” Judith asked, “what brings you to this exotic location?”

  “Adventure,” Monika lied.

  A staff attendant came to the table and announced, “The brunch buffet is ready.”

  The five began to rise when John McMiller said, “I must apologize for my wife. She writes for a travel magazine and is always questioning people.”

  Monika smiled, but did not reply.

  Judith stood behind Monika in the buffet line and whispered, “My dear, may I ask a few questions?”

  “About vhat?”

  “You are very beautiful,” Judith continued to whisper while placing a gentle hand on Monika’s right forearm.

  “Thank jou,” Monika said with rising eyebrows.

  “Now, now, Judith, don’t bother the young lady—let’s eat first,” John said.

  All surrounded the table, full plates in hand, when Reginald offered a seating arrangement, “Monika, please sit between us men.”

  “No fair,” his wife, Joan said. “Judith and I should have Monika between us.”

  Monika exclaimed, “I ez eatink in the kitchen!”

  “Oh no, sweet lady,” Reginald chuckled. “We will not bite you.”

  “Oh, jou makink joke, no?”

  All chuckled as Monika moved to sit between the men.

  Monika sipped her mimosa, eyes wide, taking in the jovial atmosphere among the group.

  The giddy attendees consumed their food with glee while washing it down with many glasses of mimosa while all engaged in conversations.

  Monika picked at her food, wondering about the jovial motives of her wards. Their looks of admiration troubled her.

  “Young lady,” Joan mused, “What are your favorite things to do during these afternoon activities?”

  “After dis meal, we can valk up da trail through da voods to pond, ez nice day, ya?”

  John asked, “I love your accent … Ukrainian?”

  “Russian,” she responded.

  “How far is the pond?” Judith asked.

  “A kilometer,” Monika answered.

  “Walking in riding boots—I don’t think so,” Joan said.

  “Do not be such a tenderfoot, Joan,” Judith said.

  “Ve take Jeep, OK?”

  After the meal Judith, Reginald, John and Monika agreed that walking would be best. The reluctant Joan refrained and stayed back.

  The slow, casual jaunt to the pond took only a half hour. They all took seats on benches facing the lagoon, a picture-perfect setting among shade trees.

  Judith sat next to Monika, took her hand in a gentle manner and pressed it against her lips, a sparkle in her eyes.

  “You are, my dear, a very beautiful woman.”

  Monika extracted her hand and said, “I ez for Raul only.”

  “Hook up with us. It’ll be a grand, educational and sensual journey for sure,” Judith whispered.

  John stood, moved over to the women and asked, “What are you whispering about?

  “I’m trying to get Monika to join us … I … um, think she’s shy.”

  “No shy, no interest,” Monika said.

  “So abrupt, Monika,” John said, “you haven’t heard our proposition yet.”

  Monika asked, “Vhat ez proposition?”

  “May I join in your muted conversation?” Reginald asked.

  “Ha,” Judith said. “We’re trying to seduce Monika into joining us tonight after dinner, of course.”

  “Ah, the pleasures of the flesh,” Reginald said. “It’s awe-inspiring, Monika—you’ll love it, and of course you’ll be the center of this joyous gathering.”

  “I ez farm girl from country—no understand proposition.”

  “Here,” Reginald said, reaching into his pocket, extracting ten one-hundred-dollar bills.

  “For me?” Monika asked.

  “Yes,” he said, pressing the money into her hand.

  Monika asked, “Vhat if I do not do?”

  “The money is just for thinking about it—there’s much more if you go along with our plan,” Reginald reassured her, with the wink of his eye.

  “I ez likink money, go to South America,” Monika said with a smile.

  “You’ll join up for dinner on the patio near the gardens, OK?” Judith asked.

  “Ve have to eat vid the help.”

  “Meet us at 7:30 and be alone … wear something tight and sexy,” Judith ordered.

  “And da boss?”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll talk to Alberto,” John said, “Nothing to worry about.”

  That night:

  Monika spread the bills on the bed in front of Raul.

  “Where did you find this?” He asked.

  “Englishman, Reginald, gave it to me.”

  Raul picked one bill and held it up to the lamplight.

  “Ez goot?

  “Genuine American currency, my dear,” he said.

  “Much more vhere dat come from, Raul,” Monika said with a sly smile, “Much, much more.”

  “I don’t like this!”

  “Ve need money and dis is easy money.”

  “You know what ‘swinging’ means, Monika?”

  “Ven I vas fourteen, I find out—my kidnappers vould beat girls dat do not obey … I do not like the whip, so I do as told, OK.”

  “When did Pressman rescue you?”

  “I eighteen, go to goot hotel in Kiev for special American businessman. Pressman buy me, take me America and rest ez history, yes?”

  “Now, you go back to your old trade?”

  “No! I ez mad at jou, very, very, mad now. I ez tryink to help us out of tight spot and jou don’t like it?”

  “No, I don’t like it when the woman I love most in this fucked up world is prostituting herself for money.”

  “Vhen I get back tonight, I ez sleepink alone, bastard!”

  “Now, now, let’s not get drastic—we’ll talk when you get back.”

  Monika arrived just short of midnight, finding Raul sitting against the headboard on the bed, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “No hello, my darlink?” she questioned.

  “I’m disgusted.”

  “Vhy?”

  “What happened? As if I do not already know?” he asked in a grumpy tone of voice.

  “Nothink.”

  “Do tell,” he quipped.

  “After dinner, ve all go to their suite, sit down and talk.”

  “I don’t believe it, Monika.”

  “Ez true, give me poop sheet,” she said with a devious smile, as she retrieved a folded sheet of white paper from her purse.

  “What’s that?”

  “Rules,” she said, opened the paper and began to read the instructions. “Number von.”

  “Let me read it,” Raul said reaching for the paper, while patting the bed beside him.

  “I get drink first,” she said, handing him the sheet of paper.

  She drifted off toward the minibar and then with drink in hand, she entered the bathroom.

  Raul began reading the rules under his breath with rising eyebrows.

  Moments later, sexy Monika, wearing a see-through nightie, moved to his side and sat on the bed.

  “You can change my lousy attitude in a split second, ha,” Raul said, “with that enticing garment.”

  Monika asked, “I ez not mad anymore—I ez vant makink love, ya?”

  “What changed your mind?”

  She got up, retrieved her purse from the minibar and came back toward him, smiling away. She opened it, fished out a wad of bills and threw them into the air, laughing as the bills flittered down like confetti.

  “Wow, how much?”

  “Five thousand—no strings, ha, ha.”

  Raul put his drink on the nightstand, and then swung his feet over the edge of the bed. She moved to embrace him, spilling her drink as she did.

  Raul asked, “You got five thous
and bucks and you didn’t have to do anything?”

  She exclaimed, “Yep—nothink—absolutely nothink!”

  “Incredible.”

  “They vant us to go vit them South America—leave next week.”

  “I have a bad feeling about them,” Raul said.

  “Nothink for jou to vorry about,” Monika answered.

  Several days later in the dark of night amid the surrounding fog, John and Reginald delivered Monika and Raul to a young man at the dock in the harbor.

  “This is Sam. He will take you out to the ship. We’ll be back a little later with our wives,” John said.

  They climbed into a small motorboat with their luggage and set off toward the unknown.

  Raul sat beside Monika, his left arm around her as the short boat ride began, apprehension filling his being. He took her hands and gave a squeeze, attempting to ease the tension.

  When they arrived, several shipmates helped them with their luggage and the difficult rope climb to the deck high above the waterline.

  Raul broke out with a cold sweat, their fate still unknown.

  One of the crew led them to a below-deck cabin, facing away from the dock. The soiled porthole was difficult to see through.

  He uttered a phrase in Spanish, as Monika gave Raul a questioning look.

  “Refreshments are here for you,” he said, waving to a setup on a nearby table.

  Raul walked over picked a bottle of sparkling white wine from the bucket of ice.

  “Might as well have a drink,” he said.

  “Fine,” she said, as he popped the cork.

  He filled two flutes and offered a toast, “To us and the future.”

  They tapped glasses and drank. Monika sat on a nearby couch and said, “cut dat cheese and we’ll have a snack.”

  The wine warmed their bellies and the cheese snacks with fruit satisfied their hunger. Moments later, Monika took a snooze on the couch, while Raul stretched out on one of the small beds.

  Morning came soon, with a rap on the door.

  Raul got up and said, “Yes.”

  “Breakfast,” a voice said through the door.

  Raul opened the door and the attendant entered, carrying a huge tray and placed it on a table against the wall.

  “Thank you,” Raul said.

  “You’ll be expected on deck in one hour,” the attendant said in a slight British accent.

  They sat down and enjoyed poached eggs on toast, slices of cooked ham, English fried chips, orange juice and black coffee.

  Showered and dressed, Monika and Raul arrived on deck an hour later as the ship swayed against the tide.

  Four middle-aged men, carrying handguns, greeted them.

  “You’re not pleased to meet us?” one man said, stepping toward them, a .45 in his right hand.

  Neither spoke.

  “Turn back to back,” he ordered.

  They did as they were told.

  “Handcuff them,” he said, holding the pistol against Raul’s head.

  Two men stepped forward and put the cuffs on each, interweaving them so they were secure. One man looped a heavy chain over their heads. The linked chain wound around their necks and he then secured it at their waists with a heavy padlock.

  The victims slumped against the rail, trying to manage their balance.

  Raul began to whisper, “Our Father, who …”

  Monika remained silent.

  The fourth man, using a lighter twine, secured their ankles with a tight grip.

  The fearful couple awaited their fate.

  The man with the .45 said, “Monika, you’ve joined an elite club, one that does not have a retirement clause, so this is your final reward. Have you anything to say?”

  She remained closed mouthed, glaring at him as Raul whispered his prayer.

  He then kicked at their ankles, causing them to fall, groaning, on the deck in an awkward pile of flesh.

  “Who wants to do the honors?” he asked.

  “Who gets it first?” one asked.

  “Take your choice,” the leader said.

  The man stooped over and shot Raul point-blank in the head.

  Monika whimpered.

  “Ha, nothin’ to say, bitch?” the boss man asked.

  She spat at him and screamed, “Pig!”

  Enraged, he shot her twice in the chest and then pointed his gun to her temple, firing once more.

  The four men took hold of the chains and their legs and rolled them over the rail into the choppy water.

  The boss exclaimed, “Sleep with the fish, whore!”

  One said, “That takes care of that.”

  “Get the crew to clean up the blood,” the boss man said. “Turn this tub around and head back.”

  Ginny sat up in bed in the middle of the night, waking Frank.

  He asked, “Another bad dream?”

  “No,” she said. “I woke up with a feeling of relief. That bitch, Monika does not worry me anymore … strange.”

  “Should I check with one of my buddies at headquarters?” Frank asked.

  “No, I think our troubles with Monika are behind us,” Ginny sighed.

  He smiled and asked, “Is it woman’s intuition?”

  “You could say that,” Ginny said and asked, “What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty.”

  “Feel rambunctious?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” he said reaching for her.

  Ten minutes into their romp, they were surprised when their bedroom door smashed open against the wall as three bright lights blinded them.

  Ginny pulled the sheet up over them.

  “Good morning, bitch,” a man’s sarcastic low voice assaulted Ginny’s ears.

  “What the fuck?” Frank asked.

  “Don’t move,” the familiar voice said.

  Ginny’s mind raced; she knew this man.

  A moment of silent fear passed as the lights were lowered and one man stepped forward. He held a two-gallon tin, by a wire handle, in his left hand and a powerful flashlight in the other.

  “Izzy!” Ginny exclaimed.

  He set the tin down on the floor, clicked off the flashlight and put it in his jacket pocket. He spoke, “Izzy Gufman, Mr. and Mrs. Reid, at your service.”

  “What do you want?” Frank questioned.

  “We’re delivering a message from Sid,” Gufman said.

  “Sid is dead,” Ginny said.

  “That’s true but he gave orders to us before his demise to eliminate his enemies.”

  “No!” Ginny exclaimed.

  The two men behind Izzy stepped up displaying long-barreled pistols with sound suppressors and pointed them at their captors.

  Izzy stepped over and grabbed the wire handle on the tin, lifted it in front him, unscrewed the metal cap in a slow deliberate manner, took a deep breath and began to empty it onto the bed.

  “Please, Izzy, for old time’s sake,” she cried in horror as the stench of gasoline filled their nostrils. Frank and Ginny pushed back against the headboard.

  “There’s no, ‘old times’ sake’ for you, Ginny. The Russian bitch swims with the fish in a watery grave, Herman Walker and his lovely new wife are burning in their bed as we speak and you two will be burning in Hell in a moment.”

  Frank rolled to his left, trying to get his pistol from the end table but was stopped by a shot from one of the men.

  He fell to the floor with a thud.

  Izzy took a matchbook from his pocket and pulled a single match from it. He watched as Ginny shook from fear.

  He lit the match, ignited the book and dropped on the bed, backing away from the frightened woman.

  The bed exploded in flames.

  “Izzy!” one of the men exclaimed and as Izzy turned around, he was hit with rapid gunfire. He fell backwards into the inferno.

  Frank shook Ginny awake from a very bad dream.

  “Ginny! Gi
nny!” he exclaimed.

  “Oh, my God,” she uttered, sobbing.

  “That bad?”

  “Yes,” was her breathless reply.

  “Tell me.”

  “Izzy Gufman soaked our bed with gasoline,” she cried. “It was horrible.”

  “No!”

  “They shot you and then Izzy set the bed on fire.”

  Frank took her into his arms, “Maybe we should blow this town, move to Ojai and start over?”

  MRS. BENNINGTON

  Story location was Fort Dix, New Jersey, the Garden State, July 20, 1958, during U.S. Army basic training.

  Privates Murray Levy, 24, and Billy Barnes, 17, were in a conversation about sex.

  “You have a girlfriend?” Levy asked, during lunch break.

  “Well …” Barnes paused between bites to wave the bees away from his food.

  “So the answer is no?”

  “At the moment, I’m not in a steady relationship,” Billy conceded.

  “Aha, never been laid, I see,” Levy chuckled.

  “What?”

  “You’re a virgin boy, Billy.”

  “No, I’m not!”

  “Tell me about your first time, OK?”

  “Murray, I’d rather not. It was awful,” Billy said with a frown.

  “I see,” Murray said.

  “I mean, it was good—real good and bad at the same time. It is hard to explain. We’re talkin’ about my first time, you know.”

  “First times usually are difficult, I feel for you, ha,” Murray chuckled.

  “It’s not funny—hey, now you can tell me about your first time, ha, OK?”

  “I will, but you go first,” Murray said.

  “Ha, that’s been pulled on me before and I’m not gonna fall for it again.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Billy, I’m an honest man.”

  “One of the boys in my neighborhood asked me what girl I liked at school and when I didn’t tell him, he said that he’d tell me who he liked at school, but I had to go first.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Lillian Gilmore!”

  Murray asked, “And?”

  “He just laughed.”

  “I promise—I won’t do that.”