restraining himself from smiling.
“Close enough,” Stark answered, blushing slightly again, “To fool around a bit with one another. Kid stuff, you understand.”
How long did this go on,” Jackie asked. “This fooling around between the two of you?”
“Two years. I got my big break then and left the old neighborhood.”
Two years, Jackie thought, was quite a long time for a trivial affair to continue. Nor had it ended, he reminded himself, because Stark had found himself a girl or anything of that sort, but because he had moved from the neighborhood. But he thought it best to keep these thoughts to himself.
“Where is Steve now?” he asked.
“Oh, I saw that he was taken care of,” Stark answered quickly, as though suspecting some implied criticism in the question. “I couldn’t afford to have him stay around, at the risk of scandal, but I saw that he had enough money to take care of himself. He’s living here, as a matter or fact, in this country. I haven’t yet gotten in touch with him, as he’d moved from his last address.”
“I see. And someone got hold of this story?”
“Yes. I don’t know how, but a few days ago I got a note. It included quite a bit of information about Steve and myself, enough to make it clear that the sender knew we had been, uh, doing it together, so to speak. The note suggested that I be at the parking lot behind the bar, tonight. When I got there, I found those three toughies. They put it on the line: one hundred thousand dollars in your money, or they’d ruin my career by spreading the story about me. I lost my temper and took a swing at one of them. You know the rest.”
Jackie nodded grimly. “I’d say you are in a spot.”
“I don’t suppose there’s much that can be done now,” Stark said. “After I lost my temper and started a fight, they’re sure to start their smear campaign.”
“I don’t think so. It’s the money they want, and chances are good they’ll try again, after you’ve had time to cool off.”
“Is there anything your outfit, C.A.M.P., can do to help me? I can’t go to the police, of course, without risking the same exposure.”
“We can try,” Jackie answered. “There’s not much to go on. Did you save the note?”
Stark shook his head glumly. “I tore it up. But it wouldn’t have helped much. It was all printed on plain paper. It was left under my door here.”
“At least we got a look at those three who met you tonight,” Jackie pointed out hopefully. “I may get a lead there, if I can identify them.”
“There’s one thing more that worries me,” Stark said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve kept a sort of diary, most of my life,” Stark explained. “I used to write down things that happened to me and how I felt about them. It’s got everything about Steve in it, every single time we were together, and everything we did, in detail, in my own handwriting.”
Jackie groaned aloud. “Don’t tell me our friends have that in their possession?”
“No, thank heaven for that,” Stark assured him quickly. “I have it here, with me. But I’ve been scared green that they might get hold of it. They could sell that for a fortune and ruin my career in the bargain.”
“I think,” Jackie said, standing. “I’d better take that with me, just to be on the safe side. You have my word that I won’t read it, of course, but I think it will be safer at my office than here.”
“You’re right, of course,” Stark agreed. He took a key from atop his dresser and unlocked his suitcase, removing a thick, battered notebook from it. “I suppose I should have burned it,” he said, handing the book to Jackie. “But somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jackie assured him. “And don’t worry, we’ll put an end to this scheme.”
“I’ll pay a fee, of course,” Stark told him with a grateful smile. “And I’ll be in your debt forever.”
“Forget it,” Jackie answered, “It’s our job, remember. We don’t base our assistance on whether or not someone can afford us.”
“You know,” Stark said after a pause, a faint smile playing across the deep red of his lips. “When I look back on it, those incidents with Steve were sort of pleasant. Nothing serious, of course, but I can’t deny that I enjoyed them.”
“At least you’re more honest about that than many others,” Jackie said. He was puzzled by the change he could not quite define.
“I wonder,” Stark said, his smile broadening although the blush had returned. “If any one of us ever really outgrows his childhood?”
Jackie was beginning to understand at last. The gleam that had crept into Stark’s dark eyes, the timid blush—unless he was badly mistaken, and he rarely was about such things, the rock-and-roll singer, idol of millions, was making a pass at him.
“Are you suggesting,” he asked quietly, “That I make you a child again, just for tonight?”
Stark held his ground and met the questioning eyes squarely, despite his embarrassment. “I’ve never dared to repeat those scenes, because of the risk. But I know I can trust you and, well, it might be a bit of fun, mightn’t it?”
Jackie grinned broadly. It was natural, even among the most sophisticated, to retain a certain awe for stars of such magnitude as Dingo Stark. Everyone had some idol of whom they would cherish a souvenir: a lock of hair, a piece of clothing. In his own case the memory of a bedtime romp was the sort of souvenir Jackie most enjoyed. And after all, there was that redhead that he stood up to come here, a tempting morsel he had hated to pass up.
“It might be at that,” he agreed, laying the diary gently atop the dresser. He did not hesitate as he began to remove his clothing. His schedule was frequently a busy one and more often than not such diversions as this had to be accomplished with speed and efficiency.
“Would you—would you like the light off?” Stark asked, no longer the self-assured singer star, but an awkward, uncertain young man.
“I always believe one should see what one is buying,” Jackie answered. “Besides, I’m not bashful.”
He had, in fact, no reason to be modest over the body that was coming into view. Dressed, and assuming his customary manner, the youthful blond gave an impression of being weak and even effeminate. He was small and slender but the more than casual observer, seeing the body naked, could at once see that weakness was only an illusion.
Beneath the delicate-looking skin, well-trained and coordinated muscles rippled and surged as he moved. It had often proven to his advantage to appear less than an athlete but Jackie was that and more. At his command were phenomenal resources of strength and agility that had seen him through more than one fracas.
His body was nearly hairless, except for a bloom of golden silk at the base of his abdomen that framed a more than ample manhood and the soft down that gave added luster to the curving softness of his
