The Erection Set by Mickey Spillane Page B

difficult.”
    â€œYour destruction of the boy was, a little more practical,” he said.
    â€œI didn’t think there was an eavesdropper.”
    â€œHell, kid, I wouldn’t miss a scene like that for the world. I was envying his approach until you dropped him. You really mean all that stuff?”
    A curious laugh escaped Sharon’s lips. “Yes. It was all true.”
    â€œEven about being a virgin?”
    â€œDoes it sound odd?”
    This time he grinned and shrugged, toasting her with his drink. “Sounds crazy, kid, but it’s your game.”
    She wondered where he had found a beer in Walt Gentry’s supply. It was something Walt only brought in for his slumming parties. “What’s your game, Mr....”
    â€œKelly. My first name’s a beaut. It’s D-O-G-E-R-O-N, but people call me Dog. I don’t take offense.”
    But it did happen. It was too quick, too fast and she wasn’t prepare for it. It was the bomb blowing up in your face before you even had the time set for it. It was the world rocking to a standstill when a second before it was serene and placid. It was a chasm opening under your feet while you were walking up a beautiful path lined with flowers and happiness and the sense of accomplishment. Discipline and self-denial reacted before she was aware of it ... ages of fighting the battle of the sexes brought out the instinctive armor of words and demeanor. And always that little thought ... she could be wrong. The chances were that she was.
    Forget it, little blonde girl. Coincidences do happen and it’s hard to remember anymore. That was all a long time ago and you’ve romanticized the image. You’ve held on to a stupid dream too long and now it’s starting to show. Like the time two years ago when he turned out to be a Brazilian engineer with ten kids. And the seaman on the Esso tanker with the same name. Only he was sixty-three and a grandfather. There is no real Dogeron Kelly. You left him there at the train station and now he’s dead. The whole family says so.
    â€œSo Dog’s your name, but what’s your game, Mr. Kelly? You look like a cop. Are you?”
    He shook his head. “Hardly. I’m an individual entreprenuer. I do whatever is profitable and comes to hand. I’m a specialist in generalities and it would have been fun to watch you deball your friend.”
    â€œYou think I couldn’t?”
    He gave a tight-lipped shrug and then grinned at her. “It’s not very hard. I’ve ticked off a few knotheads that way in my time too. It’s just that it’s an extreme penalty to pay.”
    â€œFor rape?” she asked quietly.
    â€œCome on, nobody would have to rape you.”
    â€œNow you’re on a sex kick too.”
    â€œKid, you brought the subject up. I wouldn’t bother raping you.”
    â€œOh? What would you do?”
    He let out another strange, raspy laugh. “Hell, I like it better the other way around. I’m the lazy type myself. Prolific, imaginative, but lazy. Half the time the only thing I get into is a conversation.”
    â€œAnd the other half?”
    â€œThat’s another story not fit for virginal ears,” he said.
    She almost had an answer for him, but he winked and walked off, sipping at his beer. For some reason she felt annoyed. Raul Fucia had been right, of course. She had known what she was doing when she dressed for the party, instinctively aware of her potential, but it was not more than any of the others had known. No one was needed to tell her that she was beautiful and well constructed. They had, but the mirror was enough. Raul’s reaction was enough to satisfy her judgment, but then that damned Dog had to come along and shatter her illusions. He couldn’t have cared less.
    She picked up her drink and tasted it, swirling the ice around in the glass, feeling a little smile pulling at the comers of her mouth. Hell, the