“The neck of the blouse, Madonna mia,” he said, “it needs to be just a trifle lower so as to display more of the—uh—shoulder.” He reached out a slender hand. “May I?”
Julie looked up, and for a moment her eyes met his. She glanced quickly away, wondering what in the world was coming over her; she had never felt this odd melting sensation before. Inwardly, she gave herself a little shake, as a reminder that she was not a predatory creature of impulse, no matter how much she felt like one. Then Mario’s hand touched her shoulder and she shivered. For just that one instant it was as though Marc had never existed; the spell of the spring was too strong.
“Mario! she breathed.
“Madonna!” Mario whispered fervently, dropping to her side. “You are exquisite! You are like a rare jewel in the sunlight!” And his arm moved practicedly toward her shoulder.
Their eyes met, and for a moment the tableau of romantic danger held, suspended in time, it seemed. Then it shattered as the greenery suddenly parted around them and a host of naked figures, desperately clutching bunches of leaves to themselves, flooded into the clearing. Julie looked up frightenedly and screamed.
“Good heavens!” she cried.
The undraped stampeders stopped short. There was an interval of stunned silence, then the leafy interlopers, seized with a fit of modesty, hastily huddled together and crouched down.
“My God!” a small round-eyed man gasped. “We’re surrounded. Everybody’s wearing clothes today.”
“Everywhere you look,” said a tousled-looking blond, “there’s concealment!”
The silence returned, more awkwardly this time. The nudists stared worriedly at Julie and Mario and they, too stunned for words, stared back. Julie, from sheer nervousness, finally spoke.
“You—you haven’t any clothes on!” she observed rather foolishly.
“We are aware of that, madam,” a bald-pated gentleman said miserably. “And we’re growing more aware of it every minute. You don’t have to tell us.”
“Don’t you even care?” Julie asked shakenly. “Don’t you want to have any on?”
“No, we don’t,” the first man said defiantly. “We feel that for the sake of our health—and morals, too—we shouldn’t have.”
“It may be wonderful for your health,” Julie said doubtfully, “but I can’t think it would do much for your morals.”
“That’s because you don’t understand,” a woman snapped. “You’re not a right-thinker.”
“Well, it hardly matters now whether I understand or not,” Julie said. “Are you going to go on like that indefinitely?”
“Not wearing clothes?” the man asked.
“No,” Julie said. “Crouching there, I mean, staring around. You are making me terribly uncomfortable.”
“If we stood up,” a skinny man said, “we’d make you a lot more uncomfortable.”
“Yes,” Julie agreed quickly. “I suppose you would. Still, we can’t just all sit here like this, can we?”
“I don’t know about you, lady,” the skinny man said, “But I’d rather not.”
“Then, what will we do?” Julie said. “If we close our eyes will you promise to go away—very quietly.”
“But where will we go?” the man asked. “The woods are alive with nonnudists today. We hardly know which way to turn.”
“You should have thought of that before you took your clothes off,” Julie said edgily.
AT the far end of the clearing there was a dry parting of the bushes and Marc ambled into range. His gaze went no farther than the nearest nudist and, despite the gun, he put his hands over his eyes.
“Marc!” Julie cried.
At the sound of Julie’s voice Marc’s face drained of all color. The worst had happened, just as he had suspected. Under Mario’s degrading influence, Julie had not only gone astray, she had even joined the nudists.
“Julie!” he cried forlornly. “How could you do a thing like this?”
“A thing like what?” Julie asked, getting to her feet. “What are you talking about?”
“Running around—like that!” Marc said.
“I’m not running around,” Julie said, inching her neckline up guiltily. “Why are you holding your hands over your eyes like that? And what are you doing with that gun?”
“I can’t bear to look,” Marc said. “I may shoot myself.”
“What!” Julie said, then smiled. “Oh, it’s all this bare skin that upsets you, eh?”
Marc winced anew. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked.
“You’ll never know how much,” Julie said, “but they say it’s good for the health and the morals.”
“Morals!” Marc said. “I’m surprised you even know the word any longer. I think I’d better leave.”
“Well, if I can face all this, surely you can, too,” Julie said. “You still haven’t explained what you’re doing with that gun.”
The skinny nude gentleman stirred anxiously. “Are you people going to go on chatting all day?” he asked plaintively. “My leaves are beginning to wilt.”
“Your leaves,” Julie said tartly, “are no concern of ours.”
“If they droop just a little bit farther they’ll be everybody’s concern,” the man said wanly.
“Yes, they certainly will,” Marc shuddered. He turned in Julie’s direction. “I hope your leaves are holding up all right.”
“I don’t have any leaves,” Julie said. “Why should I have? Why are you acting so strange?”
Marc started forward. As he did so, he caught his toe on a projecting root and stumbled. Lurching forward, he threw out his hand blindly and inadvertently pulled the trigger of the gun. There was a deafening report and a bullet sailed into the air. Julie, clutching at Mario’s arm screamed at the top of her lungs.
“He’s trying to kill us!” she yelled. “Run, Mario, run!”
Mario hardly needed the invitation; even before it was completed, he had begun to put his feet into motion. Dragging Julie after him, he crashed into the brush, and the two of them disappeared from sight.
“Julie!” Marc said brokenly. He opened his eyes and looked in the direction of their departure. He glanced back at the nudists. “I hope you’re satisfied!”
“We’re not, mister,” the skinny man wailed. “We can’t hold onto these leaves forever. What will we do then?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything,” Marc said nastily, “not from a gang like you.”
Like a belated echo in the distance, there was the sound of a loud report from the direction in which Julie and Mario had departed.
“Good Lord!” Marc said, leaping forward. “I forgot!” He started toward the bushes just in time to collide with Toffee who darted suddenly into the open.
“They’re after them!” Toffee cried. “They heard your shot and closed in!” There was the sound of two more shots. Marc started forward, but Toffee held him back.
“Don’t go out there!” she cried. “They’re in a mood to shoot anything that moves!”
“But if they kill Mario, Julie will swear I did it!” Marc said. “I’ve got to stop them!”
SUDDENLY the air rattled with gunfire, this time closer at hand. In the quiet that followed there was the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps. An instant later, Moose crashed into the clearing and jounced to a stop against Marc’s chest.
“Get outa the way, you civilian!” the thug yelled blindly. “The joint is swarmin’ with bulls!”
Marc had only barely digested this frenzied bulletin when Floss, Hotstuff, the blousy blonde and the other assorted criminals hurtled drunkenly through the opening.
“Cops everywhere!” Hotstuff wailed. He fixed Marc with a cold eye. “Who tipped ’em off, huh?”
“I didn’t,” Marc said. “Where are they?”
“Fannin’ out!” Floss whined. “Closin’ in!”
“Both at the same time?” Toffee asked curiously.
“Well, I suppose its better than murder,” Marc sa
id hopelessly.
During this exchange, the fugitives had collected themselves enough to be aware of the nudists, who, rising, were clutching their greenery to them with trembling fright.
“Holy gee!” Floss said. “Will you look at them! What’s goin’ on here, an open air smoker?”
“We do it for our health,” the plump woman said defensively.
“That’s a new angle,” Floss said interestedly.
“The police!” the skinny man moaned, unaware of Floss’ roving eye. “They’ll arrest us!”
“Boy,” Floss said evilly, “what a place for a pair of prunin’ shears!”
“Floss!” Hotstuff said severely. “This is no time for fun. The cops will be swarmin’ all over us in a minute!”
“Are we just going to stand here and let them arrest us?” Toffee said.
“We’re surrounded,” Moose said. “We’ll have to shoot our way out.”
“No!” Marc yelled. “Absolutely no more shooting!”
“We nudists,” the skinny man announced quaveringly, “refuse to have any part in all this.”
“You shut up!” Moose snarled. The sound of a wailing siren approached from the distance. “Good God, they’re on wheels now! They’ve got us outpointed.”
There was a general nervous shuffling as the assembled lawoffenders moved forward to view their oncoming fate. The movement was suddenly arrested, however, as a roaring sound, accompanied by the snap and crunch of despoiled underbrush, echoed near at hand.
“Holy smoke! “ Marc cried, “they’re sending in tanks!”
“Everybody grab something!” Floss said hysterically. “A lady must defend herself to the end!”
“And then what?” Toffee inquired bitterly.
Already, the trees and bushes at the end of the clearing were starting to thrash about with frenzied agitation. A tree crashed to earth and, plowing over it, in a veering rush, came the yellow sight-seeing bus. The driver, markedly foggy of eye, leaned his head out the window.
“The cops!” he yelled. “They’re after me! They’ve been chasing me to hell and gone all over the place!” With a great grinding of brakes, the bus jolted to a stop. “I gotta get outa here!” He peered down at Marc. “Which way do I go, mister?”
“Hey, wait!” Toffee said. “We’ve all got to get out of here!” She ran around to the door of the bus. “Open up!”
There was a crush of humanity as nudists and thugs alike struggled to climb into the palpitating bus.
“Snap into it!” the driver barked. “They’re comin’ in droves, those cops, and they’re all sore as hell!”
MARC and Toffee stumbled to the rear of the bus and dropped into adjoining seats.
“At least we’ve got a running start,” Toffee said breathlessly.
“Toward what, though?” Marc asked dismally. “The law thinks I’m an undesirable and my wife thinks I’m a homicidal maniac. Have I thanked you sufficiently for your wonderful help in this affair?”
“At least I tried,” Toffee said. “You might show a little gratitude for that.”
But Marc wasn’t listening. He was gaping at the others as they climbed aboard and fell into their seats up ahead.
“My gosh!” he breathed.
“What is it?” Toffee asked.
“In all this excitement—and with all those nudists around—I didn’t notice.”
“Notice what?”
“The elixir is wearing off. Now, everybody’s in their underwear! Except the nudists, of course.”
“Well, at least,” Toffee sighed, “you can keep your eyes open now.”
“I’m not so sure,” Marc said. “You should see Hotstuff’s underwear—begonias on a field of purple.”
“No!” Toffee said delightedly. “I suppose even he has his poetic side.”
The conversation stopped short as the bus leaped ahead, throwing the passengers back in their seats.
“We’ll try to circle around them!” the driver called out. “Hang on!”
There was a crash as the bus lunged back into the foliage. Branches lashed frenetically at the windows and skittered back into the distance. There was a communal scream as a large oak loomed before the windshield, but the driver, pulling frantically at the wheel, managed to send the bus swerving around it. Presently, the leaping, bucking vehicle fought its way clear of the wilds and emerged onto the green expanse of the lawns.
It all happened too quickly for any of the participants to have a very clear view of exactly what happened. One thing, though, was woefully evident; the driver had gotten mixed up in his directions. As they quitted the undergrowth, they suddenly found themselves in a head-on rush toward the charging ranks of the law. All at once the landscape was fairly littered with scrambling, dissembling cops. A siren shrieked with mechanical outrage.
“Give it the gas!” the passengers yelled. “Give it hell!”
The driver reacted automatically and pressed his foot down on the gas with everything he had. The bus shot ahead, wildly out of control, and headed into a zig-zag course toward the house. In the path there suddenly loomed a pair of distracted figures who, at the sound of the churning bus, looked back and instantly froze in their tracks.
“Julie!” Marc screamed, leaping from his seat and fighting his way to a position beside the driver. “Julie! Run!”
Outside, Julie merely covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Lord!” she wailed. “Now he’s after us with a bus!”
At the last second Marc grabbed the wheel from the driver and yanked at it furiously. The bus careened to one side as Julie and Mario leaped or fainted to the grass, out of the way. The bus roared on, while in the background the siren hurled its piercing tone to the sky. Somewhere in the distance a voice barked hoarsely.
“Fire!” it bellowed. “Get ’em in the tires! That bus is packed with lunatics!”
There was an instantaneous volley of gunfire and suddenly the bus skittered to one side, teetered precariously on two wheels, then righted itself and plunged dead-on into the substantial trunk of a weeping willow. There was a thunderous crash, a rising chorus of terrified voices and then silence.
By fighting her way through the mass of struggling bodies in the aisle, Toffee managed to reach Marc’s prone figure. She dropped down beside him and drew his head gently into her lap.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Marc opened his eyes and looked at her mistily. “I think so,” he said. “I feel so drowsy, though.” Then suddenly he frowned.
“What is it?” Toffee asked quickly.
“Julie ...” Marc said.
“Julie? What about her?”
“She wasn’t with the nudists after all,” Marc murmured. “I mean she wasn’t one of them.”
“Well, what’s so bad about that?”
Marc sighed unhappily. “She’s wearing pink lace underwear!” he said. “And she’s never worn it before.” With that, as though the thought were too much for him, he closed his eyes and went limp in her arms.
Toffee, like a drifting, though shapely, cloud of smoke, faded rapidly into thin air.
“Jeez!” breathed a cop who had reached the door of the bus just in time to witness this phenomenon. “This gang is even creepier than we thought!”
JUDGE Frennish plainly boggled at the sight that greeted his astonished eyes as he ascended the bench.
The defendants had split them-selves into definite factions. At one side of the court the nudists had huddled together in a tight little protective unit, while the thugs and their dolls had disdainfully withdrawn to the other side. Marc, still in a state of slumber, had been casually deposited in a chair, mid-distant between the two groups.
Briefly, the judge studied these separate crime camps and turned a disillusioned gaze toward Sergeant Feeney who had reluctantly accompanied him to the bench.
“Good grief, Feeney,” he said, “do you mean to say you picked up this gang all in one place?”
“All in one place,” Sergeant Fee
ney nodded wearily.
“Good Lord!”
“Definitely, your honor,” Sergeant Feeney agreed. “The ones without any clothes claim they were havin’ a picnic.”
“I’ll just bet they were,” the judge said. “Though I shouldn’t think they’d care to be so frank about it.” He sighed tremulously. “And the others? I see many familiar and loathsome faces there.”
“They explained that they were botany students out for a field day. They’re still quite drunk, your honor.”
“Isn’t that Hotstuff Harold there in the middle?”
“Yes, your honor,” Sergeant Feeney said thinly, “he insists he’s the head of the class.”
“Quite a haul,” the judge said. “I only wish they’d haul them somewhere else. What about that tall fellow there who seems to be asleep? Is he the one who was turned in earlier on the morals charge?”
“Yes, your honor. There’s nothin’ rightly wrong with him, accordin’ to the doctor. Either he’s shammin’ or he’s been takin’ dope.”
“A nasty business, Feeney,” the judge commented sourly. He glanced around the room as though hoping to find some unexpected avenue of escape, then shrugged. “I suppose I might as well plunge in.” Picking up the gavel, he banged it heavily on the bench. The defendants and the spectators looked up apprehensively.
“The court will come to order!” the judge announced, a severe look coming into his dark eyes. “It had darned well better, anyway.” He fixed the nudists with a steely glance. “Is there a spokesman for this shameless group over here?”
The skinny man edged forward, clutching his badly drooping leaves. He flushed embarrassedly.
“I suppose I am, your honor,” he said weakly.
The judge eyed him without pleasure. “Why are you crouched down like that? Got a bellyache?”
The Complete Adventures of Toffee Page 75