The Shell Scott Sampler by Richard S. Prather Page A

before, and I opened the box, poured about half the Caress! into my empty sack, and replaced it with an equal amount of the powder I’d grabbed from my Cad. The consistency was OK, but the replacement powder was a bit lighter than Ardith’s. Probably she wouldn’t notice. It still smelled like those wild flowers.
    I put the top back on the box, and it was done. For a moment I hesitated, wondering. Wondering if I was wrong about why Spaniel was coming here, wrong about Ardith, wrong about everything.
    But right then Ardith stopped humming and splashing. There was the swirl of water, the sexy little drip-drip as water dripped from Ardith.
    And on the wooden walk outside, fronting all four suites, the thump of big feet.
    Thump-thump.
    Ardith, there—like that. And me here—like this. And Spaniel about to spring through the door.
    Thump.
    The sound of footsteps was on my left as I faced the sea, coming closer. The draperies in here were drawn now, and I couldn’t see out. Suite A was clear down at the left, then B, Alston’s own through which I’d come a minute or two ago, then this one and finally D, the last of the four.
    Thump-thump-thump.
    The footsteps clumped up to Alston’s suite—and kept coming. I jumped for the interconnecting door, went through it and swung it almost closed behind me. Barely in time.
    Barely in time—even though the heavy footsteps went right on by and I heard the door of Suite D open and close—because only seconds after I got safely into Spaniel’s suite, Ardith Mellow came out of the bathroom.
    Ardith and a towel.
    She wasn’t exactly wearing it, but more sort of nuzzling and patting herself with it, rubbing and blotting the last traces of moisture from her body. From, to be accurate, her sensational body.
    I left the door cracked, even opened it another inch. Yes, I peeked. But, truly, it was not merely for the purpose of peeking. I had to know—yes, she was doing it.
    She opened the box of Caress!, picked up the great big fluffy purple puff, dabbed it at the powder and then dabbed and stroked and patted and Caressed! her smooth throat, and high heavy breasts, and columnar thighs, then filled the puff with powder once more, and stroked and dabbed, and filled the powder puff again….
    Thump-thump-thump!
    Right up to Spaniel’s door. This door, the one ten feet from me. I couldn’t go back into Ardith’s room—that would blow the whole bit, if it wasn’t ruined already. I had eased the connecting door closed at the first thump, and now I dived for Spaniel’s bed and slid under it—as the door opened and he came inside.
    I could still hear thumping, but it was my heartbeat. Spaniel walked across the floor, turned, walked back and turned again. I didn’t get it. He was simply pacing—as though waiting for something. Maybe he was waiting for Ardith to finish powdering, or to get dressed in something zippy, or perhaps to come in and join him.
    But that wasn’t it. The phone rang.
    Two swift steps and Spaniel was there. “Yeah?” he said.
    Silence for a few seconds. Then, “Good. Tonight, huh? OK. I’ll see you tomorrow…. Yeah, you know it, you damn well bet I’ll see you tomorrow.” A brief pause, then he said, “Two G’s. Right … right.” He hung up.
    Two G’s. It reminded me of the man in the Spartan, dying, right after telling me Spaniel had paid him “a G,” a thousand bucks, as the down payment on his job—the job he’d been unable to finish. Al seemed to be throwing plenty of money around.
    He was moving across the room again. Straight to the connecting door. He didn’t even knock, just went on in. He must have come in here merely to wait for the call.
    The door clicked shut behind him.
    â€œBill, darling!” Ardith cried.
    â€œWho the hell is Bill?” he said.
    â€œOo—I mean, H … Al!”
    Well, you may