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CHAPTER ONE

"I don't get it David. Why would L.U.S.T. even bother investigating the murders of three known criminals?"

I was talking to my case officer, and sometime lover, David Anderjanian, a big blond Viking of a man whose present assignment had me bamboozled.

First, let me explain. I'm Eve Drum and I am, if I may cast modesty aside, the number one agent for L.U.S.T. The letters stand for the League of Underground Spies and Terrorists. We are an offshoot of the C.I.A. and the N.S.A. We do things that those reputable organizations are not permitted to do—fight fire with fire, steal when it becomes necessary and kill when it becomes a question of national safety. I had just been asked to take the assignment of investigating the murders of three well-known mobsters.

"Eve," David continued, "the General himself wants you to do the job and that's quite a compliment."

"I realize that, David, but it's difficult to tackle a case I don't believe in."

"Why don't we have dinner tonight and maybe I can convince you of its validity."

Uh-oh. That was the first step in the right direction—his. When it came to David Anderjanian, he could talk me into almost everything—particularly over candlelight and wine.

I acquiesced. "All right, David. Pick me up at eight o'clock."

I left David's office, said goodbye to the prim Miss Marlo, who is L.U.S.T.'s receptionist, and rang for the elevator. The door opened, I got onto the dingy car, and pressed the button to the main floor. L.U.S.T.'s New York headquarters was located in the top two floors of a furniture storage building on Columbus Avenue. The first six floors of the building were devoted to the legitimate business of furniture storage. I reached the shabby hallway and pushed open the grimy panels of the outside door leading to the street.

In February, New York is not the place to be. The damp wind whipped around my shapely legs and sent me shivering up Columbus Avenue. I turned up the collar on my white lynx fake fur coat and searched the street for a taxi. I finally saw one, hailed it, and gave him my address. I rode back to my apartment located in the East Sixties on New York's chic East Side.

The doorman, Charlie, opened the door for me. "Good afternoon, Miss Drum. Cold enough for you?"

"Too cold, Charlie," I replied.

Too cold, but I knew that if David persuaded me to take the case, I would soon be headed West. That in itself seemed reason enough to agree. I love New York but find it a little hard to take during the winter months. I longed to be in the sunshine letting good old Sol make love to my bod. I checked the mail. There was nothing but a bill from Bonwit Teller. I was a little bit disappointed that there were no belated Valentine cards in the box, but in the business I was in, I didn't often get the chance to meet the kind of men who sent Valentines. I unlocked the three locks which guarded my door and went inside. Before taking off my coat, I put on the kettle to boil. I was chilled through and through and a hot cup of tea would warm me up.

After hanging my coat up in the hall closet, I went into the bedroom to select a gown to wear that evening. I felt like being sexy and provocative. I wanted something that would show off my 38 inch bust-line, small waist, and my rounded hips. I opened the mirrored doors of my closet and looked through my wardrobe, finally selecting a gray chiffon gown designed by Oscar de la Renta I had recently bought at Bonwit Teller. I hung it on the door to allow any wrinkles to fall out before the evening. The kettle began to whistle in the kitchen. I went in and brewed myself a cup of Constant Comment tea, a spicy tea with the flavor of orange. Then I sat down on my white couch and sipped the hot tea, thinking about the assignment that David wanted me to take.

There were four Abraxas brothers. The youngest one was still alive. Even though they had risen from the ranks of the mob and had established themselves as "legitimate" businessmen, there was still the taint of the Mafia about them. They were colorful figures and enjoyed the company of people in show business. They were often photographed in the more expensive watering holes throughout the world, hobnobbing with minor royalty, film stars, and general hangers-on. The murders of the three older brothers had been plastered across the front pages of the newspapers for the entire week. One a day had been killed starting with the old est. At the time, I hadn't given it much thought, after all, in the business they were in, mobsters were bumped off all the time. But the pattern was strange three in a row starting with the oldest. The youngest Abraxas brother was still alive and, so the papers said, was under heavy personal guard. The brothers were a mixture of Turkish, Greek, and Italian background.

They grew up on New York's Lower East Side and became involved in the rackets. They eventually cornered the pornography market with side ventures into prostitution and skin flicks. Ever since the government decided that pornography was not against the law, the brothers' business empire had flourished immensely. Together, the four of them controlled nearly 90% of all pornography-shops, books, films that saturated the U.S. They reaped the financial harvests and had become very wealthy. And of course along with wealth, came power.

David had taken me to see one of the popular pornographic films which was made under the auspices of the Abraxas brothers. The picture was entitled "Damp Dreams" and involved the sexual fantasies of a pretty young girl in explicit detail. I have to admit that the first few sexual acts, larger than life and in living color, were exciting but after a while I began to get bored. Eventually, David and I left, before the movie was over, and went home to enjoy the real-life pleasures that can be had between a man and a woman.

Did I mention that my nickname at L.U.S.T. is Double Oh Sex? At first, the name irritated me, but I've since grown almost fond of it. We L.U.S.T. agents often have to use sex to get what we want and in my case, sex had become an expert weapon. I have studied all the sex books of the world; the Kama Sutra, the Ananga Ranga, the Eroticka Biblion, the Nouvelle Album Erotique and various other books which deal with the art of Venus. In my opinion, sex is an art like anything else and the intricacies and delights of the sex act can be greatly heightened by research and experience. My expertise in the sexual field has gotten me out of more than one tight spot.

I glanced at my Lucite clock. It was past four. I decided to take a short nap before getting ready to go out with David. I undressed, set my alarm, put on my Anne Klein robe, and lay down on top of the white fur throw which covered my queen-size bed.

I awoke feeling very refreshed and ready for a night on the town with David. I started my bathwater and poured in some Je Reviens bath oil, sloshed it around, and savored its marvelous odor. I put on a stack of Elton John records and leisurely bathed allowing the smooth oil to soften and scent my skin. I looked a bit pale. I was going to welcome the kiss of the sun. There! Already I was allowing myself to be talked into the case. David Anderjanian would not have to be his usual persuasive self. He didn't really have to wine and dine me, but let him. After all, L.U.S.T. was picking up the tab.

After I bathed, I jumped into the shower, washed my hair with an herbal shampoo, and rinsed it with cream rinse. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my body, and went to sit at the dresser to blow my silvery blond hair dry. I wore my hair straight, combed back from my forehead, and falling to my shoulders like a mane. I teased the top and the back of my hair slightly to add height. Then I rubbed a moisturizer into my skin to protect it from the cold February night. I selected a Charles of the Ritz iridescent pink lipstick, carefully outlining my lips, and mixed a bit of silver shadow into the blue to accent my big blue eyes. I was lucky enough to have a perfect complexion that didn't require any makeup base. After I finished, I powdered myself with Je Reviens body powder, and slipped into a pair of silk bikinis. I took my dress from the hanger and pulled it over my head. It was a lovely dress-sleeveless and backless and had a deep V neckline which nearly reached my naval. The waist was tight and the dress flared a bit at the hips. Here and there on the under-layer of the gray chiffon were sewn mother of pearl sequins which subtly caught the light as I moved. I stepped into a pair of gray satin heels dyed to match the dress and surveyed myself in the mirror. I needed a bit of jewelry. I looked in my jewelry box and selected a dog collar of silvery gray pearls.

It was nearly eight o'clock. I went into the kitchen, filled the ice bucket, then took Elton John off the record player and replaced him with several Bread albums—David's favorites. The buzzer rang. It was Charlie telling me that Mr. Anderjanian was on his way up. When the bell rang, I ran to answer the door. David was carrying a small box which he handed to me. It contained one perfect gardenia.

"Oh, David!" I squealed. "I haven't had flowers since high school. How thoughtful of you."

I pinned it on my waist at the base of the plunging neckline.

"What would you like to drink, David? I'm having a martini."

"That sounds great, Eve. I'll have the same." I went into the kitchen and took down two glasses. "Vodka or gin?" I called from the kitchen. "Vodka, I think."

"Good. That's what I'm having."

I put Wyborowa Polish vodka into a pitcher, adding just a dash of vermouth. Then I filled it with cracked ice and stirred the mixture with a long bar spoon for one and a half minutes. Then I poured it into two goblets of my finest crystal stemware, twisted a piece of lemon peel over each one, and carried them into the living room.

After sampling his drink he said, "You know, Eve, you're just about perfect. You look beautiful and you make one hell of a martini."

"Thank you," I replied. "You're looking rather beautiful yourself."

"I could do with a bit of sun," he replied. "But then so could you."

I laughed. "I didn't miss the innuendo, David. Yes, I am thinking about that. If I take the case, I'll be able to bask in the sun and get back the tan that these winter months have washed away. Hey, you're drinking that martini awfully fast."

"I guess I was thirsty. How about another one?"

"Coming right up," I replied. "Degustibus non est disputandum, as the Romans would say—it's your funeral."

I refilled his glass and handed it to him. "Where are we going for dinner tonight?"

"I made a reservation at the Proof of the Pudding since it's close by. Later, I thought that perhaps we could go to Michael's Pub to hear some jazz or go dancing at Shepheard's."

I finished my martini and noted that David had again finished his.

"Shall we go?"

I got a gray satin clutch bag and got my fake lynx out of the closet. David helped me on with the coat.

"I didn't bring my car tonight, Eve. The traffic's so heavy. Do you mind taking a cab?"

"It's only a few blocks. Why don't we walk from here?"

The night was clear and very cold. You could see your breath in front of your face. We walked quickly to First Avenue and Sixty-fourth Street to the Proof of the Pudding and were quickly shown to a table. "Would you like a cocktail?" David asked. "I don't think so. Perhaps some wine with dinner."

"What would you like, Eve?"

"You order for me, David. You know I like practically everything."

When the waitress came he ordered clams on a half shell, a watercress salad, rainbow trout with almonds, and French string beans in lemon sauce. To go with the meal, he ordered a bottle of 1967 Pouilly Fuissé, a marvelous dry white wine.

Over dinner David said, "Eve, as you know, I'm taking you out for two reasons. One, your company and two, to try to talk you into taking this case."

"I know that, David."

"I hope you're not offended that I'm mixing business with pleasure."

"Not at all," I replied. "Just so long as there's an equal amount of pleasure. Now tell me why you're so interested in having me take on this case and why, indeed, is L.U.S.T. involved with this case in the first place."

"Well, Eve, I want you to take it on because I believe you have the best detective mind in the entire L.U.S.T. network. We're taking on the case at the request of the F.B.I. The General and I both feel that a woman would be better for the job under the circumstances."

"What circumstances? All the men are dead."

"The youngest one isn't, Eve. He's still very much alive. Xenos Abraxas. From the file I learned that he was a change of life baby and is only forty years old. He's quite a playboy, very good-looking. The main reason that we're anxious to solve the murders of his three brothers is that we believe that Xenos Abraxas is behind the killings. If we can prove that, we can break up this whole pornographic monopoly."

"I see. And where would I start?"

"If you decide to take the case, it would be best to start at the beginning. Try to see what clues you can get from the murder in Phoenix, then go to Vegas and on to Disneyland."

"That's quite an itinerary." I said smiling. "And I've always wanted to see Disneyland."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Eve, you constantly surprise me. I never thought you'd be interested in seeing anything like Disneyland."

"And why not, David? From everything I've seen and read about it, it looks like a fabulous place to visit. Have you ever been there?"

"Well, no."

"You'd probably like it too, David. You haven't become that jaded working for L.U.S.T., or have you?"

He ignored my remarked and popped a Cherrystone in his mouth, washing it down with the white wine.

"The point is, Eve," he said finally, "if you take the case, it has to be strictly hush-hush. You'd be on your own completely—at least in the beginning."

"From what I've read in the newspapers, the same man obviously did all three killings. The manner in which they were done clearly points to one person."

"That's highly possible, Eve, but I wouldn't rule out several killers. It might just have been done that way to throw us off the track."

"Tell you what, David. If you promise not to talk business anymore tonight, I promise I'll sleep on it and call you as soon as I've decided."

"It's a deal." We spoke of lighter things during dinner—new movies, shows that had opened recently, and the latest fashions and fads. After dinner we ordered an espresso and I decided that I would like to go to Shepheard's and dance. David, surprisingly enough, is an excellent dancer. He always seems to know the latest steps and I am able to follow him and perform them with all the aplomb of a "with—it" teenager.

Shepheard's was crowded but David had no trouble getting us a small table near the edge of the dance floor. We ordered vodka stingers and joined the other undulating couples on the floor. After our first dance, the floor was cleared for the entertainers, two frantic Italian brothers who performed in the style of early Martin and Lewis. One sang love songs while the other clowned.

At the end of the show, David touched my knee with his and said, "Eve, do you want to stay?"

"Let's go back to my place," I whispered.

Back at the apartment, we went directly to the bedroom and began to undress. David and I had been involved long enough not to play games. We both knew what we wanted and we were going to have it. I lay down on the soft fur throw and David dimmed the lights until we were both bathed in warm shadows. His lips sought mine. He kissed me with open lips and a probing tongue. His forefinger and thumb caught my left nipple and rotated it gently, then not to play favorites he switched to the right one. His mouth left mine and began to forage around my neck and shoulders. I reached down and grabbed David's manhood and stroked it. He was quite a man! Then he turned completely around in bed. His lips caressed my knee as he slowly began working his way up. His hands slid around my hips and up my smooth naked side. His lips were on my stomach, open and wet. His hot man-flesh was pressed against my chin. I moved my head and felt the warmth of it on my face. Then I opened my mouth and gently took him inside. For what seemed a marvelous eternity, we teased each other in this manner. Then David turned around once again and pressed his throbbing shaft against my soft pubic mound. He put his hands under my hips and I opened up my thighs to receive him. Although our lovemaking was familiar, there was a degree of sexual enlightenment gained from our experiences in bed together. We worked in unison, knowing each other's bodies as well as our own. We reached our sensual plateaus together and stayed there until we finally came down. David held me cradled in his arms and kissed me softly in the small of the neck.

"The vodka made me thirsty, David. Would you like to share a glass of Tab?"

"Yes, Eve, I would."

I got up from the bed and went to the kitchen. While I was filling the glass with ice, a thought occurred to me. I quietly dialed the telephone operator and asked if she would mind bringing me back since I thought there was trouble on the line. When the telephone rang, I picked it up and told the operator that everything was all right. Then I called to David.

"David, darling, it's for you."

"Huh?" he muttered. "Now who could know that I'm here?"

He picked up the receiver and I said, "I told you I'd phone you. I'll take the case."