Carl van Marcus

Naked and helpless

The spring sunshine was bright and the flirtatious west wind brought a whiff of salt air to her nostrils as Jill Conklin stepped out the door of the garrish pink stucco house on Bay Street and headed down the hill towards Aquatic Park, a battered wooden paint box and large sketch pad under one arm, a webbed folding chair and wooden stool under the other one. She felt an exuberance bubbling through her young body and a curious sense of anticipation, as though something were about to happen. She had felt it since she first awoke in the musty, rose wallpapered room she rented in the eccentric widow's home. Josephine was a "character", a non-stop talker who was into metaphysical digests and painting rocks for her baroque garden, but the rent was dirt cheap – fifty bucks a month – and Jill had kitchen privileges. Fortunately, Josephine retired to her own bedroom at 7:00 each night with a vintage Zenith black and white television set, so the young girl was spared hours of occult monologues – no one ever conversed with Josephine; one listened and nodded one's head.

Still, it was somewhat depressing being in the house, whose furnishings were redolent with time. The grand piano was sadly out of tune; the brocade divan was never sat upon. Josephine lived in the kitchen, where the gas stove provided the only heat in the house. For one so old, she apparently had good circulation. Jill nearly froze to death, and had to wear warm socks and flannel nightgowns to bed. At times, her fingers got so cold she could barely sketch, until she found a cheap old electric heater for $4.00 at a garage sale and ecstatically lugged it home. Josephine seemed almost hurt!

Now, as she walked purposefully past Ghirardelli Square, she felt relieved to be away from her often lonely and tomblike digs. The sun caressed her young scrubbed face, her glossy long brunette waves and the alluring curves of her nubile eighteen year old body. She couldn't fail to notice the admiring looks she drew from both men and women, as she strode proudly down the hill, her pert, braless breasts jostling provocatively under a saffron yellow tank top, and the ripe mounds of her buttocks swaying deliciously in the skin-tight, paint-spattered jeans.

There were street musicians, magicians, tourists, peddlers of every sort and couples walking hand in hand. They all paid tribute to her with their eyes, and some spoke to her with comments and suggestions – both clean and dirty. She had grown accustomed to this sort of attention, and fielded both looks and remarks with aplomb. It was great for the ego and yet, she knew how lonely she really was being a young girl away from home, away from Chris and very much alone in San Francisco. The couples who sat sprawled on the sloping green of the park gave her a pang of remorse, as she remembered Chris… and those wickedly exquisite nights in her bedroom in Kansas City…

***

Jill's heart fluttered with anticipation as she lay in bed watching the shadows cast by the moonlight on the leaves of the big old oak tree outside her window. He would be appearing soon, climbing over the fence and up the tree like a cat, the muscles in his lean hard frame rippling as he shimmied up the branches. Chris played soccer, he was on the varsity team at college, and he was also a champion diver – and his body mirrored his athletic prowess. He was also a champion muff diver, as Jill had discovered several months ago when she had let him eat her pussy for the first time. Now she looked forward again to what had become almost a nightly ritual with them.

Chris was her first real boyfriend, and certainly the one guy she had let get into her panties – though she wouldn't "go all the way" – no, she just couldn't do that, not yet. She felt guilty, actually, letting him satisfy her without giving him what he wanted – though she finally had played with his penis, and even sucked on it a little bit. But she never made him cum. Well, he knew the rules, after all, and he really loved to eat her… it wasn't her fault if he was willing to put up with the one-sided arrangement. Besides, Chris was in love with her, she knew that, and he figured they would get it on sooner or later…

Jill sucked in her breath as she heard a slight rustle outside. She lay perfectly still. Moments later, a large shadow appeared before the window, and then two hands raised the sash almost noiselessly.

Chris climbed into the room and tiptoed over to the bed, as quiet as an Indian. He was barefoot, as usual – he hated wearing shoes, and his broad muscular chest was bare above dirty Levi's.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, sitting down quickly on the bed and planting his full, sensuous mouth on hers. He kissed her deeply, thrusting his hot tongue into her willing mouth and laving her oral cavity for all he was worth. Jill put her bare arms around his neck and drew him close to her. Her pussy was already tingling with anticipation and her young nipples began to harden under her sheer cotton nightie as they were crushed under the hardness of his bare chest muscles.

Jill's long wavy hair was spread against the soft white pillow as her brawny boyfriend began to move one of his large strong hands up her side and between their bodies, seeking one of her ripe nipples. He continued to French her mouth as he raised up slightly on the other elbow so that his hand could have greater access to her upthrust mound, and he kneaded the pliant flesh between his fingers and churned it round and round, causing the teenage brunette to become even more excited. A feeble mewl from her throat goaded him on, and soon he was fumbling with the flimsy string ties down the front of her gown, exposing more and more of her warm, naked flesh.

Finally, he reared back and straddled her helpless form, sitting on his knees, and parted the nightie completely, leaving Jill totally nude except for the matching bikini panties. Then he bent down to her chest, taking one yearning breast in his mouth and sucking it so hard that she gave a little gasp of pain. He eased up a little then, sucking it more tenderly, and nibbling the erect nipple between his teeth. He turned his attention then to the other breast and repeated his lusting ministrations, causing Jill to go out of her mind with desire. She wanted it so badly! As Chris caressed her firm young breasts, cupping each mound in his hands to suck greedily at the tiny throbbing pink nipples, drawing them one at a time into his mouth so that he could flick his tongue around them, she felt she could almost cum right then!

She moaned with ecstasy, feeling her want building up again in her belly and her pulsing vagina juicy with expectation. She couldn't wait for his tongue. "Finger me, Chris!" she begged, goosebumps forming over her flesh as his eagerly working mouth gently nibbled across her breasts and then up and down along the heated cleavage. She was quivering uncontrollably from the flicking sensual arousal and her voice was thick with excitement.

She felt his big hand slide down her belly and grip the thin cotton panties, sliding them down gingerly over her smooth, sleep thighs and calves. She kicked them off and lay spread eagled, ready for his digital assault. The handsome, brooding youth continued to use his pleasure-giving mouth around her throbbing breasts as he placed his hand on her furry pubic mound and parted the puffy cunt lips with his thumb and middle finger. The breathless girl flinched as the cool night air came in contact with the super-sensitized furrow, now oozing with the secretions of sexual excitement. His hands splayed open the tender lips of her vagina even wider to slip a finger up into the soft slit around her clitoris, the way his tongue was opening the lips of her mouth to find her tongue again. Immediately, the passionate brunette established a grinding movement with her hips, reveling in the wicked sensations his lewd fingering was bringing her. God, she was excited!

Chris' finger slid up and down on the slippery cuntal furrow, massaging every centimeter of her secret passage. She couldn't help herself – she was beginning to cum already!

"Ohhhh… aaahhhhhh!" the young girl cried out as the first wave of orgasm coursed through her naked body. She bucked and spasmed and gasped aloud as the indescribable surges electrified every nerve end and she rocketed with ecstasy.

Chris thrust his finger deep inside her vagina and continued his maddening assault as the young brunette came and came. Then his tongue was snaking down her body, lingering in her navel, then moving relentlessly into her dark pubic thatch. He sucked on her pubic curls, bringing pleasurable sounds from his girlfriend's sensuously opened mouth. She was anticipating his next move, the thought of it quickening her heartbeat and bringing a hotter flush of pink to her rosy cheeks.

"Oh yes, Chris, lick it! Lick it!" she cried out shamelessly, almost wild with craven lust.

He did. He licked and sucked and Frenched her pussy until she came again and again. His knowing tongue circled around maddeningly up inside her, flicking lustily against the wet sensitive walls of her cuntal passage. In response to the salacious titillation, she wrapped her long legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her, twining her fingers in his longish light brown hair and thrusting her pelvis harder into his face.

Chris reacted immediately to her excited want, licking up from the entrance of her vagina to her clitoris and back down again with long strokes of his tongue, feeling her legs tighten and relax, tighten and relax around his waist to help him in his lascivious labors. He finally pushed her legs up high so that her knees brushed her breasts, allowing him to bury his tongue deeper into her hotly pulsating little cunt.

When she had cum three times more, her little pussy was so over-sensitized that she pushed his head away and begged him to stop. She almost passed out from the sensations and lay on the bed, sweating profusely and gasping for air. Her eyes were closed and her whole body trembled. The hot-blooded youth moved up her body and kissed her passionately on the mouth, giving her a taste of her own cuntal juices mixed with his saliva. She responded weakly. In the next moment, she heard the recognizable sound of a zipper descending its track and felt Chris squirm against her body as he struggled to free his heavily throbbing cock from the tight Levi's.

Jill felt a little stab of anxiety. He had promised not to try and fuck her – he knew she wouldn't do that! Still, he wanted something in return, and she would have to feel his cock at least…

But her alarm grew as she felt the rough denim scrape down her body, along her silky legs, and she came into greater contact with an expanse of male flesh. Then she felt his rigid bare cock pressed demandingly into her loins and her eyes opened wide in fear.

"Chris – what are you doing? You… you know we can't go all the way. You promised not to try…" she stammered.

"Please, Jill – just this once!" he begged her. "I've waited so long. I've got to tonight!"

"NO! I can't! Not till after we're married! Then I'll do anything you want. But not now!"

"Then suck me off at least – please, Jill!" he begged, and he scooted up her body, placing a knee on either side of her head. He placed both his hands under her pillow and raised her head so that her lips were only inches from his huge, glistening cock. "Suck it, honey. SUCK IT!"

His beautiful girlfriend meekly opened her mouth; she wanted to place her lips around that temptingly throbbing organ, but she was afraid that Chris might actually cum in her mouth – then she would have set a precedent, and would have to suck him off all the time. And once she had sucked him off, what would prevent him from trying that much harder to get her to fuck? He was strong as a bull, and had a temper like one – he was, in fact, a triple Taurus, and fit all the astrological cliches of that earth sign. He could rape her so easily if he wanted to, she knew that, and it was only his regard for her and his naivete which kept him slavishly satisfying her without getting full satisfaction from her in return. In one way, she secretly despised him for his long-suffering patience – why did he put up with that? But she was very careful to play him just right, to twist him around her little finger with just enough fooling around to keep him hopeful and interested.

"Kiss it… just kiss it, for God's sakes!" Chris implored again. He thrust his pelvis forward until the wet tip of his cock was grazing for her soft lips. Obediently, she placed a noncommittal kiss on the throbbing head of his prick. Then another, a little further down on the veiny undershaft. His balls were cradled against her throat, and the sparse hairs tickled her skin.

"Open your mouth; take it in your mouth!" he called hoarsely to her.

"I… I'm not comfortable this way," she lied. Actually, she had visions of his spewing his hot cum down her throat and strangling her with the hot liquid. Besides, she somehow wouldn't be a virgin any more, once she had sucked him off – that was mouth fucking, wasn't it?

"Couldn't I use my hand?" she asked, hoping to placate him.

"A hand is no substitute, dammit! Why can't you suck me, Jill? I can't stand it any longer. How much longer am I supposed to wait? You don't want to do a fucking thing for me!"

"Sure I do, Chris, and I have done some things… it's just that… well…"

"Well what! Yeah, I know all about your precious virginity and why you say you have to wait – at least, why you tell me you have to wait! But you know you want it as much as I do. It's just not fair, dammit!"

Yes, she thought to herself, I want it as much as you do. One day I will suck this awesome thing. And I'll let you shove it deep inside me and fuck me and fuck me and fuck me. Oh God, I do want it so much – but not yet!

"Please, honey… do something! You're driving me out of my gourd! Let me fuck you!" he gasped frantically.

In one catlike movement he was lying atop her, trying to force her now tightly clenched thighs apart, his hard prick pressing demandingly into her naked loins. He forced his mouth onto hers again and burrowed his tongue deep inside, kissing her passionately, urgently as he writhed around on her naked flanks. An idea formed in her head that it would be wonderful to feel his untamed, pleasure-bearing penis inside her desire-inflamed cunt, and she wriggled her buttocks in response to her thought. But a red light flashed in her brain, followed by the word NEVER!!!, and she quickly thrust her hand down between their bodies and grabbed his cock just below the head. It felt bigger than ever. Surely it would kill her, would split her vagina wide apart and tear her very womb if he were to ram that weapon up into her tight unused pussy! Yet the obscene feel of its pulsing hardness gave her a thrilling sense of sensual happiness, its throbbing presence comforting to her hand in some strange way, and she kissed him back more passionately. She commenced stroking and massaging the hot member, rubbing the soft skin back and forth to Chris' excited moans. She thrilled at the slippery ridge below the blood-filled head, the tender flesh beneath, and further down the turgid shaft of the blood-engorged tool. She reached even further down, to the plump twin sacs of his balls with their minute ridges and sparse growth of wiry hair.

"Oh… oh, God, Jill, I want you! I've got to have you tonight!" he cried out to her.

"No, no, Chris, don't you see? It would ruin everything for us. If we did it now, I don't think I could bear to go to San Francisco – and you know how much I need to succeed in my art career. Would you want to have a frustrated, unhappy chick on your hands; one who was bitter about missed opportunities in life? I know you wouldn't. Anyway, you'd despise me afterwards for being so weak, so dominated. You might not even want me then, and where would I be?"

"That's crazy! I love you, Jill. I don't know how I'm going to live without you for nine months. That's all the more reason for making love now – we're going to be away from each other for so long!"

She felt herself beginning to weaken as her body kept telling her that she must let him fuck her while her brain continued to shout, "NO WAY!" How she yearned to have that cock shoved far up into her cunt! The tip of his cock was taunting the erect bud of her clitoris, sending wild sensations racing through her with each stroke of the slippery head. She knew she had to give him some relief, otherwise, she might lose him forever.

"I'll be back before you know it. Then we'll get married and make love all the time, if you want to. But for tonight, Chris…"

He cut in rudely. "For tonight, nothing, right?" he spat out in disgust.

"No, I said I'd use my hand," she answered with bewilderment.

"Forget it, baby. I'm fucking you tonight whether you like it or not!" he hissed at her, and he used his powerful hand to shove her legs apart.

Panic-stricken, the young brunette started to pound her fist against his muscular back. "No! Stop it, Chris! NOOOOOO!" she shrieked, gripping his burgeoning penis even tighter in her hand. He was suddenly like an enraged bull with one purpose: to get his cockhead into the mouth of the elusive passage denied him by those adamantly locked thighs. Her cunt lips were yielding under the force of his thrusting pressure and in desperation, she reached up and grabbed his hair in her hand and yanked as hard as she could. He reared back his head in pain and let out a cry. A split second later, she felt a jet of hot sticky liquid spew out of his exploding cockhead into her belly. Chris was cumming! That had to be it! She had actually made him cum! She felt both surprised and proud, but not for long. As she looked up into his face, she saw a look of hate in his soulful brown eyes that she had never expected to see. He was panting heavily, but his lips curled into a sneer. He reached down to kiss her and before she realized what was happening, he drew her lower lips into his mouth and bit down so hard it brought blood. She let out a muffled scream – Wendy was sleeping in the next room and her parent's bedroom was across the hall.

Chris drew back, a triumphant yet wounded look on his face mixed with deep anger and indignation. "Something to remember me by, lady. Hope you and your Goddamned prick-teasing virginity have a wonderful time in San Francisco!"

In her rage and humiliation she lashed out at him unthinkingly. "Get out, you crude bastard! I never want to see you again! You're like all men. All you're interested in is what's between a woman's legs. All you want is a fast fuck! I hate you! Get out!"

He gave her one last, searing look. Then he was up and zipped into his Levi's and out of the bedroom window in one fluid maneuver, without another word, leaving a tearful and confused young Jill with a painfully bleeding lip and a broken heart. She regretted her words as soon as they were out. But it was too late. She never saw Chris again before she left a few days later for San Francisco. It was a bad omen.

CHAPTER TWO

Jill tried to turn her mind away from Chris and Kansas City as she headed towards The Cannery. She reviewed her life in San Francisco as a fine arts student at the Art Institute. She had been naive back in Kansas City. Sure, she had talent, more than anyone in her class at high school. But in San Francisco, where so many aspiring artists come to study and paint, she was just one of many talented young people, and certainly not the best, she had to admit to herself. Some of her classmates were intimidatingly gifted, others, appallingly ordinary. There was a lot of hanky panky going on, too. And she found that the females who put out for their instructors got the best grades and the most "assistance". Well, she was not going to get ahead that way!

At first, she had stayed at a student residence club, but she got hassled there, too – not only by the manager, but by several other residents… both guys and girls! So, she answered an ad posted on a laundromat bulletin board and wound up with Josephine. The old lady was slightly balmy, but at least, she was safe! It was all far from the fantasy she had had back in Kansas City, and far from the glamorous life she glowingly portrayed to Wendy and her parents. But she had too much pride to admit the truth to them, and she especially didn't want Chris to know how lonely she was. At times she chided herself for the folly of her determined flight to San Francisco, trying to play the liberated "woman" when she was really a vine-covered-cottage and picket-fence girl at heart. You've come a long way, baby! she thought ruefully, then added, Yeah – and you've still got a long way to go! But there was art, and her career, and this was San Francisco – "Everybody's favorite city" – and she was determined not to go back to Kansas City with her tail between her legs… or anybody else's! She had persisted in her fantasy that she was going to be discovered, and this felt somehow like the day it would happen. This was not going to be another of those days where she would make a few bucks doing quick portraits, as she had taken to doing in the last several weeks, then pack up her supplied and trudge back to Josephine's with no more prospects than the lewd propositions she got from wise-cracking teenagers and dirty old men.

Jill found a sunny spot facing the fish stands across the street and set up her chair and stool outside one of the arcade entrances to The Cannery, where the tenants paid very fancy rents for their plush and attractive shops. Jill and the other street artists, musicians and vendors capitalized on the advertising those tenants footed the bill for to bring thousands of tourists to their doors. Some of those tourists were art dealers, people who were always on the lookout for fresh talent.

Jill laid out her portraits and some of her smaller acrylics. She tacked a discreet sign to a nearby tree which read: 5-Minute Color Portrait – $2.00… and waited for her first customer.

A middle aged couple sauntered by, he wearing a double knit cranberry jacket and plaid pants, she with a knit pantsuit and flat-heeled, patent leather loafers. She was carrying an oversized fake leather tote bag – they reeked of "tourist".

The man, who was smoking a foul-smelling cigar, grinned sheepishly at Jill, the corners of his eyes furrowing into a thousand wrinkles. She smiled back shyly. The wife gave Jill a cautious sniff and started to move on.

"Merle, wait a minute. Let's have the little lady do your picture," he said, winking at Jill.

"Now what in the world would I want with my picture?" she stated rather than asked. "Nobody's given me any beauty prizes lately."

"Well they're even less likely to next year," he persisted. "'Sides, I'd kinda like to see what the little lady does for an old bat like you in just five minutes," he grinned. Jill gave him a hip smile, knowing that the wife must have heard these good-natured jibes for years.

"Well I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't like it anyway. If you're so int'rested, why don't you get that ugly mug of yours preserved for posterity – if she can stand to look at you for five minutes!"

The wife meandered on. The man hesitated on the brink of indecision. Jill made a gallant gesture towards the chair, motioning the man to sit down. "My pleasure, sir!" she said, flashing him an irresistible smile.

"You got yourself a deal, little lady," the portly man said, seating himself in the chair. He started to remove the cigar from his mouth. "No, please… leave it there. It suits you," Jill encouraged.

She worked quickly as she sat on the stool, a large clipboard propped on her thighs. She carefully selected colors from her extensive assortment of oil pastels. She liked working in this medium actually; Craypas had the depth and durability of crayons with the translucence of pastels, and without the mess that ordinary chalk pastels created. She studied the man's face for several seconds. To her credit, Jill did have an unerring eye and the ability to faithfully reproduce the essence of things, and since studying at the institute, she had evolved from a rather sophomoric photographic rendering technique to a looser, more sophisticated one. Her quick sketches had a Matisse-like quality, and she was able to capture, at times, some facet of personality in an uncanny way. This ability set her apart from so many of the other portraitists who lined the sidewalks. Their work seemed to reproduce people who were stilted effigies of human beings.

A crowd was gathering. She could see people out of the corner of her eye, and hear some of their hushed comments. She had grown accustomed to being watched, and she felt a particular excitement now. She knew her sketch of the tourist in the cranberry jacket was an exceptionally good one.

The crowd of onlookers was growing now, many of them far more interested in the beautiful artist than they were in her sketch pad.

Her subject was enjoying every minute of it. He loved the attention he was getting from the crowd, and he loved being able to stare unabashedly at the gorgeous brunette who was caught up in her rendering of him. Damn, what he wouldn't give for a hot little piece of ass like that! Hell, she was far and away better than any of them topless broads he had seen at those clip joints on the Broadway strip – and some of them were knockouts. But this little girl had them beat by a country mile. Damn, it made his cock twitch just to think about her – and that wouldn't do it at all! Not here!

"Don't forget to sign it now. I'm gonna put this in a frame and hang it in my office," he said jovially as he chewed on his cigar. Some of the gapers chuckled and Jill smiled warmly as she put the finishing touches on the portrait with a soft lead pencil. She took one last, searching look at the man, added a little touch of color here and there, made a few more lines with her pencil then scrawled "Conklin – 5/14/76 S.F." on the bottom. She was very pleased with her efforts. She felt she had truly captured the man on sketch paper.

"I hope you like it, sir," she said as she handed his likeness to him. The crowd was almost hushed with anticipation, and the big man played his scene for all he was worth, studying the portrait critically from every angle as he chewed on his cigar. Finally he smiled, and his smile widened to a broad grin.

"Well I'll be darned. That's the best darned picture anybody's ever done of me! It really is! I paid some jerk $200 last year to paint my portrait, and I had to sit still for what amounted to almost two weeks, and he didn't do half as good a job as you did in five minutes, little lady! I surely do want to thank you," he said, reaching in his pocket and producing a five dollar bill from a money clip. "Here, you take this," he said, pressing the fin into her hand.

"But, sir, it's only…" she started to protest.

"It's only a small portion of what it's worth. I know. Now if I can find that stubborn wife of mine, I'm gonna drag her back here and have her pose for you. She's not goin' home without a picture done by you, Miss…" he looked at her signature, "Conklin. What's your first name, Miss Conklin?" he asked, leering down at her.

"Jill."

"Jill, eh? Well now ain't that a coincidence – mine's Jack, Jack Dawson. Here, have one of my cards. Do you have a card, Jill?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid I don't," she said with embarrassment. People were listening to the exchange.

"Well you should, Jill. Any artist as good as you needs a business card. I'll see you later, Jill. I'm going to find that wife of mine and drag her back here for a picture." And he was off, cigar smoke billowing in his wake.

A quiet couple with a pigtailed little girl had been standing patiently to one side. They stepped up to her. "We'd like you to do Tammy's portrait," the wife said.

"I'd love to do a portrait of Tammy," Jill said sincerely, smiling down at the freckle faced seven year old. "Children are really fun, and a challenge. They can't sit still."

The whole day was like that. One customer after another. It wasn't until the wind came up at three o'clock that Jill realized she hadn't stopped for lunch. She was suddenly ravenous, and starting to get chilled. She started to break out in goosebumps and her nipples were standing out erect beneath her thin T-shirt. She cursed herself for forgetting to bring her sweater. Three raucous hardhat types started to give her a bad time. They were making embarrassing and insulting remarks, and staring at her proudly upthrust breasts with the very visible and erect nipples.

Suddenly Jill caught sight of Jack Dawson coming towards her. But the big man in the cranberry knit jacket was not accompanied by his wife – there was another man with him, a very distinguished looking gentleman who was the antithesis of the cigar smoking tourist. Jack Dawson's companion was a tall, refined and elegantly handsome Latin with an impeccably tailored beige silk suit, light blue shirt with French cuffs and navy blue silk necktie with white polka dots. His whole aura bespoke breeding and authority, and he had the unmistakable smell of wealth about him. Jill gave the pair a grateful smile of recognition. "Why, Mr. Dawson!" she called out. At that the hard hat boys dispersed muttering epithets under their breaths.

"I brought a friend of mine to have you do his picture. Couldn't get the missus out of them bo'tiques. She needs a supermarket cart to put everything in! Jill, this is Mr. Garcia."

"Ernesto Garcia, Miss Conklin," the elegant man offered in a deep and slightly accented voice. He took her extended hand and shook it warmly, looking directly into her eyes in such a penetrating way that Jill had to suppress an involuntary shudder.

"How do you do, Mr. Garcia," she said a little breathlessly.

"I think we are too late, Jack. Miss Conklin is obviously finished for the day. You look chilly, my dear."

"Well, yes, I am a little cold, actually."

"Here, I'll give the little lady my jacket," said Dawson, starting to undo the gold buttons on his cranberry knit.

"Please. Miss Conklin should not be imposed upon," Garcia insisted with an air of quiet authority. His eyes never left her face, and he smiled ever so slightly as he spoke. "Let us see Miss Conklin home. Perhaps we can prevail upon her to do my portrait another time." And he signalled for a taxi with one commanding gesture. Instantly the Yellow Cab was at the curb before the flustered Jill could protest that she only lived a few blocks away.