Tengu Read Online Free PDF

breasts were tiny and round with dark nipples that always reminded
Ernest of those cups that conjurors use to hide dice. Between the thighs of her
slim, short legs, her black pubic hair had been trimmed into the shape of a
heart.
    Ernest raised
his skinny, sinewy arm. “Now, you get away, Nancy. It’s too early. We’ve got
this whole operation going snafu, we don’t know what in hell’s going on, and
you know as well as I do that we’re going to have Gerard Crowley coming down on
top of us by the end of the day like fifteen tons of hot shit. The Huck Finn of Bevcrly Hills.”
    Still smiling,
Nancy pressed her bare body up against him, and reached up to ruffle his silver
hair. “You shouldn’t call him that,” she cooed. “You know he doesn’t like it.”
    “What else
should I call him? He’s a good old country boy, isn’t he, if you want it put
politely?
    Now, let go of
me, will you?”
    “I wonder what
you call me behind my back,” Nancy whispered. “The Dragon
Lady?”
    Ernest gripped
her waist, and twisted her away from him. But then his towel slipped, and he
had to release her to save his decency. She tittered again, that high birdlike
laugh, and Ernest’s neck went red with irritation.
    “I should have
slammed the door in your face that very first day I saw you,” he growled.
    “Oh, no, Mr.
Milward,” Nancy mocked. “That would never have done. Think of what you would
have missed.”
    Kemo appeared
in the doorway with a tray of tea. Nancy drew her robe around herself as he
sulkily crossed the room and set the delicate cups and teapot down on the low
table.
    “Dashimaki
tamago five minutes,” he said, and slip-slopped out again.
    Ernest sighed
and sat creakily down on the floor. Nancy poured out two cups of tea, and then
sat down beside him, cross-legged. Her robe was wide open again, and he
couldn’t help noticing how the heel of her right foot, drawn up under her,
parted the bright pink lips of her silk-haired sex. He closed his eyes and
inhaled the strange, smoky smell of the Japanese tea.
    “You have no
need to fear anything,” said Nancy, in a quiet, monotonous voice. “Even if
things have gone wrong this morning, nobody can possibly trace the Tengu back
to us. You know that as well as I. And it had to be done. It is all part of the
preparations.”
    “There could
have been some other way. I told Crowley that.” Ernest spoke without opening
his eyes.
    “Crowley wanted
to make sure it really worked. And you can scarcely blame him for that, can
you, when you think how much money he’s spent?”
    “I don’t know.
In my book, the best tactics arc those which are mounted in secrecy. Then–when
you can’t keep the secrecy up any longer–you keep your enemy guessing by laying
smoke, and taking up unexpected and confusing positions.”
    “Ernest,” said
Nancy, in the same quiet voice, “we are not fighting frigates. This is not
Midway anymore. And what in the world could be more confusing to everybody than
what the Tengu was sent out to do this morning?” Ernest opened his eyes. He
peered into his steaming teacup, and watched the dark leaves floating around
and around.
    “My God,” he
said, under his breath. “What a strange assortment of lost individuals we are.
    What a cause
we’re fighting for.’’
    “Is money such
a terrible cause?” asked Nancy.
    Ernest thought,
and then grimaced, and shook his head.
    Nancy leaned
over toward him and kissed the roughness of his cheek. He kept his eyes open,
watching her, so that when she came close he was almost squinting. She sat up
straight again, and said, “I have a woodblock print somewhere by Eisen, in the
style of Ukiyo-e sbunga prints. It shows a Yoshiwara courtesan anointing her
lover’s organ with sake before they make love.”
    Ernest stared
at her suspiciously. But he made no attempt to ward her off when she reached
across and loosened his towel. With one tug, she bared his already-stiffened
penis and his salt-and-pepper