Sex And Violence 1946 Los Angeles

Sex and Violence in 1946 Los Angeles

What would noir be without an adult portion of both?

By Ms. Pamela Lightener

Brew 102 wasn't his beer of choice, but that's what they had in their bars here, so what the hell. When in Rome drink like the Romans do. Halfway through his first glass he decided that his beer of choice was

cold

. He really wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just looking over the half-full bar on a Friday night with the boxing matches from Madison Square Garden in New York showing on a small black-and-white TV behind the bar.

Los Angeles had become a boom town after the war but there were also a lot of ex-G.I.s chasing those jobs in 1946, so employment wasn't a sure thing, especially considering his past. But he had a stake, figuring he'd set up shop in sunny southern California, a place where you didn't need chains for your tires and the girls looked like they might be the next Rita Hayworth or Hedy Lamarr.

He liked to watch the other patrons. Man off work in threes and fours at tables, two couples at smaller tables smiling and drinking, having a good time. And a few lone wolf types like himself at the bar, maybe killing time or maybe just not wanting to go home. A typical crowd in a typical bar, and nobody stood out. Except for one couple down at the far end near the back, away from the others. He was seated more toward the front, where the bar curved around to meet the wall, so he was looking right at them.

They were a good-looking pair, with him an average-size man looking sharp in slacks and lightweight sport coat even though it was a little warm inside. He was laying on the charm and making a play for a stunningly gorgeous fair-haired girl in a nice dress and attractive hairstyle. He sipped his beer and watched the game play out. Something told him to pay attention and he had learned to listen to those little voices.

The fella must have been a slick talker, because he kept her amused and laughing, and she even play-slapped his arm at one point as if to say, "Oh, now you watch your language you naughty boy!" The guy was good. The observer had never been much good with women.

Then he saw a move that he recognized. He didn't like it one bit. The guy gave a quick look around, then reached around with his right arm and pulled the girl close, kissing her, and when she objected and pushed him away, he had already slipped something into her drink. His heart rate rose sharply but he tried to calm down and keep his head. Did he see what he thought he saw? He wasn't sure.

The man apologized for the kiss and begged forgiveness, and eventually got it. Things got back to normal, and he kept an eye on the couple. I didn't take 10 minutes for the mickey to kick in and for the girl to get a little unsteady on her barstool. The man steadied her, whispering something to her, and she nodded. Then one of the single men at the bar, a big man, got up and walked by them, heading to the back door and out to the parking lot. A minute later the smaller man was helping the girl off the barstool, and guided her to the back.

The lone drinker was quickly out the front door, his suspicions confirmed, making his way along the sidewalk and cutting back along the north side of the bar, picking up a long piece of scrap 2 x 4 along the way.

Stopping to peer around the corner, he could see both men now wrestling with the girl, who was putting up what fight she could.

"Hey! Lemee 'lone! Who're you? Getcher hands off me! Hey! Help!"

The smaller guy held his hand over he mouth. The light over the back door to the bar was dim, and there were no lights on along the alley. The rear door was closed tight. No one else heard. He could see they were trying to carry the girl over to a car.

"Get her in the trunk," said the smaller one. "We'll have our way and when we're done we'll dump the body out in Montrose like we did last time. The coyotes and bears won't give the cops much to work with. Come on. Fuck, she's heavy!"

She heard him and went into a panic, trying to get free, but there was no chance. Then she heard another voice.

"Hey, guys..."

Everything happened so fast. The smaller man let her go and she fell, hitting her head on the asphalt. She heard the sounds of a fight before she passed out.

She came to in the passenger seat of a late 30s Dodge coupe that had seen some hard days. They were still in in the parking lot and the headlights were out. Her head hurt and he was holding his handkerchief against the cut on her head.

"Here, take it. Keep it pressed against the cut."

"What happened? I feel awful."

"Two guys jumped you in the parking lot. The guy trying to pick you up inside put something in your drink. Are you gonna be sick, because do me a favor and do it outside my car."

She thought about it. "No, I don't think so."

She looked out her window and saw two men on the ground and neither one was moving.

"Are those the guys?"

"Yeah."

"Are they...?"

"I don't know and I'm not going to find out either. We need to get out of here and away from this before somebody sees us and calls the cops."

"Shouldn't we stay here and wait for the police? You know, make a report or something?"

"Not unless you want to get your name and picture in the papers and talk to the cops for weeks and maybe spend a lot of time in court. I messed those guys up pretty bad, kid, and I'm not sticking around. You can stay if you want but if you do, do me a solid and forget me and my face, OK? I don't need this. You want to get out?" It required a fast answer.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't even thank you! No, no, let's go. I don't want to make any trouble for you. Can you just take me home? I really need to lay down."

"Don't you have a car? It's not smart for a girl to be walking home from a bar at night."

She told him her name was Julie McKinney and he said he was Frank Hazzard. She directed him a couple of blocks north to a neat little set of Spanish-style flat-roof cottages in two rows of six, with a well-tended rose garden in between. Julie's cottage was the first on the right, which she knew reduced the chances of someone seeing her bringing a man home. She wasn't sure if that was against the rules but didn't want to have that discussion with the manager, who lived in the back on the other side.

Frank steadied her as her key found the lock, and they went inside and turned on the lights. It was a clean, orderly one bedroom.

"You better sit down, Julie. I'll get you a glass of water." It was a nice clean place. No dirty dishes in the sink.

Frank returned and could tell that the adrenaline from the struggle was wearing off both of them, but the effects of the drug and the head injury were still affecting her. She had trouble staying awake and making sense, and finally she drifted off. He set the glass down. Her breathing was steady, and so he just sat on the sofa thinking. He hoped nobody had seen them in the parking lot, gotten the license from his car, or noticed him in the bar. That was his last time at

that

bar, he vowed. Frank didn't need any trouble with the police.

She was slumped in a small wing chair, and for the first time he noticed how incredibly beautiful she was. Maybe 22 or 23, blonde, with perfect skin, a cute nose and high cheekbones. She looked to be about 5-5 and slim, and he couldn't help but notice her legs were shapely in silk stockings, with her dress hiked up a little. Powerful feelings had to be tamped down.

He gave her about ten minutes, and she didn't come around. But her color was good and her breathing was steady. So he went into the bedroom, pulled back the covers, and arranged the pillows. He carried her into the bedroom. Laying her back on the bed he pulled her dress down, took off her shoes, covered her with a light blanket, and then went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

She was amazingly beautiful. He had never had a girl like that in his arms. Her body felt good against him, even in her clothes. And her face was lovely, even after a rough time and with her makeup smeared. Most girls in the movies didn't look this good. He imagined her without any clothes, doing whatever he wanted with her.

He stayed awake until the test pattern came on the TV, and then at about 1am he fell asleep on the sofa, after checking her one last time. The bump on her head was small and there wasn't more bleeding. Her chest moved up and down, and he pulled back the blanket to see her once more. Then he covered her again.

It was light when he awoke with a nasty headache. He found aspirin and put a wet washcloth on his forehead. He was able to sleep a little more. When he heard Julie stir, he called out so she wouldn't panic.

"Julie, it's just Frank from last night. How are you feeling? You OK?"

It took a moment for Julie to add up some of the pieces and understand who was out there and why.

"Yeah, I think. Just a minute." She went out to the living room where Frank was fully dressed except for his shoes. She stopped short and couldn't hide the look on her face when she saw him: A beefy, thick man in a in a shirt and slacks that were dirty and torn, with his sport jacket over the back of the sofa. His hair was uncombed, and he looked as if he'd been up all night, which was not far off.

He had a broad face and a broad nose to match, clearly someone other men would step off the sidewalk to avoid confronting. The two scars put the icing on the cake. One went from the corner of his left eye down to his jawline, and the other diagonally across his chin.

He'd seen that look from people of all ages a thousand times before and pretended he hadn't noticed it. "I stayed here last night," stating the obvious. "You all right?"

She recovered well, managing something like a smile "Not bad, considering." Unconsciously, she hugged herself. It seemed as if her clothes had remained on all night, and she was pretty sure he didn't

do anything

to her while she was knocked out.

"Listen, I really want to thank you for what you did, Frank. I don't remember everything but I remember those guys were talking about killing me and dumping me somewhere. I don't think I'd be alive if it wasn't for you. So thanks a whole lot. I know that isn't a lot, but really, thanks."

"Anybody would have done what I did."

"No, that's not true. And not everybody could take on two guys like you did." She remembered them motionless in the parking lot. Did Frank kill them both?

"Well, I did some time in the Shore Patrol in Okinawa. That's like the police for the Navy? I had to handle some pretty tough guys there. I learned about guys spiking drinks and I saw some of the things men did to girls too. Realy bad things. It changed me, you know, the way I think. The way I see things. I just wanted to get away from all that, so I uh...

got out

of the Navy and ended up here in California. I guess I didn't go far enough." There was a short, bitter laugh. Julie nodded. He went on.

"To tell you the truth, I don't remember everything about last night either. And I don't think I want to but it will probably come up some night. It usually does. I think it got pretty bad with those guys. Sometimes I kinda black out in fights. I'm not sure about everything that happened. That's why I wanted us to get out of there before the cops got there. Cops generally don't like me and I'd just as soon not have to put up with all the questions."

There was a silence for awhile. She chided herself for judging him because of his clothes and especially his face. He probably had a rough life, and he could have just walked away and left her to be raped and killed. She put on a smile, better than the first one.

"How about some breakfast? It's the least I can do, and I don't have to work today."

He didn't expect that. "Yeah, I'm starving."

"Great. But first, I need a bath."

"Oh yeah, take your time." Julie waited a few seconds for Frank to get the hint.

"Ah! Sure, right. I'll take a walk." He headed for the door, turning around. "I'll ring the bell when I get back."

Julie smiled, "Thanks." He left and she locked the door. Wow, was he huge.

Was this smart inviting him back? Who was he really?

Frank walked to a neighborhood market a couple of blocks away where he bought a pint of milk and a morning paper. The woman behind the counter was the only one inside and she looked like she was ready to run out the back when she saw him. He quickly paid and went around the side of the store, away from the street. There was his story taking up most of the front page of the Los Angeles

Bulletin

, with pictures:

Savage Beatings Shock City

Two Men Dead in Bar Brawl -- Killer or Killers Sought

The photos showed two white sheets draped over what were probably corpses, with grim-looking cops and detectives standing around. The story didn't mention any witnesses or anyone else involved. It looked like a fight that got out of control but the police were still investigating. The men had yet to be identified. No suspects had been brought in.

Frank returned to his car, threw the newspaper in the back seat and locked it. It had been about 20 minutes when he got back so he rang the bell. After about two minutes Julie answered with straight wet hair, wearing only a long bathrobe. She looked good, and obviously hadn't finished dressing. He could hardly see the bump on her head. She was smiling. She'd given herself a pep talk and a lecture about not judging a book by its cover. The effects waned slightly as she let him in.

The robe covered her very well, but Frank could imagine the damp, slim body under it. And she was really beautiful, like a movie star or a famous model. He hadn't noticed that as much before. Now they had both seen each other in the morning light and it made deep impressions.

He sat at the little table in the kitchen as she made a huge breakfast for him, and much less for her. Bacon, eggs, toast. He ate it all and was done before she was. The Navy didn't give you all day for chow. He was intent on the meal, and she was amazed by Frank's large, powerful hands, muscular arms, and chest that was barely contained by the damaged shirt.

He finished, pushed his chair back, and took a deep breath. He felt much better and was thinking about getting back to his apartment and taking a shower himself. He had to replace the shirt and pants that were ruined. He drank his coffee. She cleared the table. He couldn't take his mind off her, imagining her in the bathtub, soaping her naked body.

She was at the sink when she felt him there behind her. He pressed his body against her, his hands pulling her shoulders back toward him. He was like a man made of granite. She knew that he could do anything he wanted to her now and there would be nothing she could possibly do to stop him. The cottages had thick walls and kept the sound in. Even if she screamed he could shut her up in a second. Maybe shut her up for good.

The robe came off her shoulders and lay on the floor. His powerful hands explored her freely and his mouth was on her neck. He cupped her pretty breasts and pinched her nipples, making her cry out quietly. She didn't want to upset him. His hand went between her legs and she fought the urge to keep them closed. She spread herself and he rubbed her pussy.

"I want you. I want to fuck you so bad."

"I know," she said softly. And she found herself becoming aroused. She had never had a man like this, roughly taking her any way he pleased. She had only been with four other men, and two were inexperienced boys, just grateful she would go to bed with them at all. Those lovemaking times were mostly quiet and easy. There was nothing easy about Frank.

He turned her around and held her away from him to look at her. His gaze was like a heat lamp on her body. She had never felt so exposed and helpless.

"You're so...beautiful. So beautiful."

He clasped her to him, one huge hand on her back and the other on her ass, massaging her cheeks, spreading them apart. A moment of panic went through her head as she feared he might want to have her that way. Then his mouth was on her breasts, licking and sucking, tasting all of her upper body. Her legs were open wide, and a thick finger pushed up inside her, making her gasp. He pumped it in and out, fucking her as he held her tight. She made a small sound with each thrust, and he grunted in pleasure at her response. She was getting wetter.

In a second he sat her on the kitchen table, laid her back, and his face was between her legs. His hands were on her thighs, keeping her spread and leaning back. Again she was powerless as he devoured her. She couldn't get away. She didn't try. She didn't tell him no. She gave up her body to him. The orgasms came in waves, and as she responded his hands squeezed her thighs tighter.

He released her, and she lay back on the table. The contents of the table top were now on the floor, some of it broken. She was panting, trying to catch her breath, legs open. It took him just a few seconds to shed all of his clothes, and she saw his thick, hard cock for a few seconds before it was plunged deep inside her.

"Oh! Oh, shit!" There was less pain than she had expected. He fucked her hard and fast. Bashing into the backs of her legs as he had one hand on her ass and the other on her right shoulder to keep her from being pushed back.

His damaged face was contorted in lust and what appeared to be a form of madness. She felt a bit of madness herself as he pounded her, her eyes wide and unfocused. That face scared her. His crude body also showed signs of previous combat. His muscles stood out and were tense as he took her hard, like an animal. His eyes were closed and as he fucked her she started to feel another climax rising. It wasn't as intense as before with his mouth, but in the process her sex clenched his cock. He felt himself ready to release, and he pulled out, shooting a massive stream of cum on her belly and chest.

There were no words for several minutes. Julie grabbed her robe off the floor and rushed off to the bathroom. She locked the door in a futile gesture of imagined control. Frank took liberties with a dish towel and got dressed, leaving it in the trash.

When she came out he was in the living room. They both looked like hell, but she was so gorgeous she looked like a special kind of hell that would still turn heads on the street. She sat in the wing chair that she passed out in the night before, and they didn't talk right away.

"I didn't force you," he said in a low, raspy voice.

"No. No, you didn't. I didn't try to stop you or tell you no. I don't know what to say, Frank. I haven't done it a lot or with many guys but it's never been like that. It was like I lost my mind. But it's OK. You didn't force me."

Frank let out a sigh, and relaxed a little.

"I better go. I need a shower and I have to buy some new trousers and a shirt."

He was gone, and she got up to lock the door, then sat in the living room thinking for awhile. It had only been about a half a day since it all began. She took a long shower this time and got dressed in Bermuda shorts and a sleeveless cotton top and lightweight flats.

A girl her age shouldn't have aches and pains, but Julie felt as if she had played a game of tackle football that morning. She made her way through the market after lunch, and picked up some things for the week. She started thinking about what she wanted for dinner, and about packing a lunch for her day at the dress shop on Monday. They were really nice at Yvonne's Fashion on west 1st Street, and made allowances when she had an audition in Hollywood, or for occasional modeling jobs.