STAGE LUST! The Incurable Itch to get to the top any way at all! It drove Carla, "Hollywood's Sex Queen". But some lusts are even more compelling than a sexpot love-goddess's wanton ambitions, and Carlo's passion far Phil Devlin, the dark, tall, handsome bit player led them into a boudoir conspiracy that made them both captive to the domineering tastes of money-mad Jason Thorpe. Captive to his sinful desires, his ambitions, they danced to the sin-tune his money demanded. Together, they paid the price of wanting Jason Thorpe to do them a favor ... But it was blonde Iris Langford, the starlet who couldn't act except in bed who played and paid the highest price of all. A price delivered with a shriek of horror as the lust curtain fell on a final scene of shameful passion!
CHAPTER ONE
The drawing room of Carla's hotel suite had a full-length mirror set into one wall and I paused before it, drink in hand, and took a close look at myself. I nodded with satisfaction at what I saw. "You're looking good there, Phil, old boy," I muttered to my reflection.
Maybe it was the natural-born ham in me, or maybe it was just the fact that I'd had five quick drinks in a row, but the thought flashed through my mind that not many men could honestly be pleased with how they looked in a full-length mirror-especially when wearing nothing but a pair of polka-dot shorts.
I grinned at myself in the mirror, raised my glass in salute, and finished my drink. "Don't go away," I said to my reflection. "I'll be right back."
I padded barefoot across the thick carpet and put my empty glass on a table, then went back to the mirror.
"Devlin, you're a devil," I said in a low voice, and I chuckled at myself in the glass. I gave myself an evil leer and chuckled again.
It wasn't egotism, although I've got my full share of that. It was the drinks that were making me do this. I have this crazy habit of talking to myself in mirrors whenever I have a little too much to drink. I wasn't drunk now, not by any means, but I did have a very pleasant glow spreading through me. For this night, at least, I could forget my troubles.
I struck a muscle-man pose in front of the mirror and flexed my biceps. I sucked in my stomach and expanded my chest and studied my reflection carefully. Not bad, I thought. Not bad at all. I let myself relax and stood naturally. Still not too bad, I decided, looking myself over critically. I'm six-two, have a decent pair of shoulders, a fairly muscular torso, not too hairy, and no trace of fat on my belly. The face that looked back at me from the mirror was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning when I scraped the stubble from my jaw-good head of dark hair, straight nose, brown eyes, and a cleft chin. It could have been worse.
I grinned at myself again and decided it did a man good to feel smug every now and then.
Besides, I had every right to feel smug.
It wasn't every man that could walk around in his shorts in the New York hotel suite of Car la Russell, Hollywood's own "Queen of Sex." She was in the bedroom now, getting suitably dressed-or rather, undressed-for the occasion. Which meant that when she finally came out she'd be wearing just as little as I was.
I winked knowingly at myself in the mirror, went and got my empty glass and filled it again from the bottle on the coffee table. I sat down on the couch and sipped slowly at my drink and wished impatiently that Carla would hurry it up.
How long did it take a woman to undress, anyhow?
I scratched at my chest contentedly. It was a cold January night outside, windy and with a threat of snow, but I was warm and comfortable in Carla's suite. Every time Carla came east to New York, I was a regular nighttime visitor. It would have shocked the gossip columnists if they'd found out about it, but Carla and I were very careful. I never took Carla out too any night spots, and I was never seen in public with her. On those nights that I spent at her hotel suite, her maid was given the night off and told to come back the next afternoon. This wasn't Carla's idea. It was mine.
After all, I did have my pride.
Carla and I had been pretty warm for each other for a few years now, ever since both of us had bit parts in a summer stock show up in Maine. Carla had gone on from there, getting a big break in Hollywood that same year, and then shooting up to full stardom in a few months. It happens like that sometimes.
Me? I stayed at about the same level. For a while, I continued with the bit parts when I could get them, just barely making a living. And when the bit parts didn't come through regularly enough, I scrounged around and did odd jobs just to keep me in food and cigarettes and give me enough to pay the rent on my furnished room.
Right now, I had just about decided to give up the acting bit. Not only was it not paying off for me, but I was up to my ears in debt. I had a fancy MG sports car on which I still owed fifteen hundred, I was three weeks behind in my rent, and I had just withdrawn the last fifty bucks from my savings account. The way I had it figured, I'd be completely flat in about one week.
Of course, I could float a loan from Carla. I knew that without even asking. But that was one thing I wasn't going to do. In all the time we had known each other, I had never once taken anything from her-except what she offered me in bed. It was strictly a matter of pride with me. I wasn't going to be a kept man, and I wasn't going to take advantage of Carla's feelings for me. She was a success, and I wasn't. It boiled down to that. That was why I never took her out in public. I didn't have the money. And that was also why I insisted on keeping our relationship quiet. I wasn't going to have the gossip columnists tear into Carla for going around with an impoverished bit player.
As I said, I had my pride.
Which was just about all I had left.
I shook my head savagely and gulped down the rest of my drink. I had thought I could forget my troubles this night, but this was the kind of troubles you never can forget completely. They stayed with you, popping up when you least expected them. I shook my head again and closed my eyes and forced myself to think of Carla, to picture her face in my mind, even though she was right there in the bedroom. It was the only way I could think of to drive my troubles from my mind. I'd replace them with Carla's face.
I kept my eyes shut tightly and started from the top, visualizing her long black hair, jet black and shining with softness. Next, I concentrated on her eyes-light blue, fringed with long, sweeping lashes. And then there was her nose, her beautiful tip-tilted nose that was set above a mouth that would tempt any man. Her lips were full and curving, the lower lip holding just the trace of a pout. And all this was set in a pale oval face that appeared regularly on the covers of magazines, in newspapers, on billboards, in glossy photos pinned up on barracks walls and teen-agers' bedrooms, and just about any other place where beauty such as hers could be displayed.
I let out a long sigh and opened my eyes. There was more to Carla than just her famous face, of course. The rest of her was equally famous and equally as well known to the general public. But I was in no mood to visualize the rest of her. I'd see all of it soon enough in the flesh.
That was one thing which I had over the general public.
I bad seen more of Carla than the public was ever allowed to see.
I looked at my empty glass and was just about to get up from the couch and refill it when I heard the bedroom door open. I placed my glass carefully on the table in front of me and leaned back on the couch and waited for Carla to come into the drawing room.
My troubles were forgotten now They would stay forgotten for a long while-for the rest of the night, I hoped.
Carla would see to that
CHAPTER TWO
Carla came into the room wearing a cream-colored robe that covered her from neck to ankles, but which had been so well tailored to her figure that it temptingly emphasized every line of her magnificent body. Beneath the sweeping hem of the robe, a pair of dainty red slippers completed her attire, and I knew both from past experience and from the way the robe clung to her that she had little if any clothing on under the robe.
I got to my feet but made no move to go to her. She looked me up and down closely, an amused smile on her lips. "Well, Phil," she said huskily, "when I told you to make yourself at home, I didn't know you were going to take me so literally."
I looked down at my polka dot shorts and grinned. "I wanted you to see me at my best."
"You're hiding your best," Carla said with a suggestive glance at my shorts.
"I was saving that little treat for you," I told her.
"For me?" Her eyes widened with feigned innocence.
"Just for you," I answered, chuckling.
"You mean I get to take them off?"
"I wouldn't think of letting anyone else do it," I said.
"You're so good to me, Phil," Carla said with a completely straight face.
I threw back my head and laughed. That's what I liked about Carla. I could always count on her to say the right thing at the right time, to inject just the right tone into our relationship whenever it was needed. And at that moment, I really needed the laugh she gave me.
"How about a drink?" I said when I had stopped laughing.
"Sure."
I mixed a drink for her and another one for myself, and we clinked glasses and drank. I still hadn't touched her, and I guess we made an odd sort of picture at the moment, me in my shorts and she in her robe, standing there and drinking and just looking at each other over the rims of our glasses. But this was just the warm-up, the prelude to what was going to happen later on. Carla's eyes told me everything, and the story they told made my blood start to race a little faster.
"Well," I said, "shall we sit down?"
Carla took another sip of her drink, continuing to look at me with those light blue eyes of hers. "It isn't fair," she said finally. "What isn't fair?"
"You're way ahead of me."
"Well, just a few drinks...."
"I wasn't talking about drinks," Carla said. "Huh?"
"I've got more clothes on than you," Carla said, pouting prettily.
"Oh ... I see." I nodded my head understandingly.
"I think we should at least start even, don't you, Phil?"
"Certainly."
"Make us even, Phil."
I grinned at her, knowing what she meant. I gulped down the rest of my drink and put the empty glass on the table. "Finish your drink," I told her.
Carla raised the glass to her lips and drained it dry. I took the glass from her and set it down on the table next to mine.
"Let's see now," I said, rubbing my hands together briskly. "If I understand you correctly, you want me to correct the discrepancy that exists in the amount of clothing each of us has on. Is that correct?"
"Oh-oh," Carla said. "Those drinks are beginning to get to you."
"Who says so?" I demanded.
"I do. You're starting to talk fancy. You usually do that when you've had too much to drink."
I smiled easily at her. "I've had a few drinks, to be sure," I admitted. "But I'm not drunk, and I'm not about to get drunk, and just because I indulge in what you call 'fancy talk' is no reason for you to presume I cannot control my intake of alcohol."
"See?" Carla said triumphantly. "You're doing it again."
"Oh, come now," I said with great dignity. "I can talk plain if I have to, and you know it"
"Prove it," Carla said.
I gave her a long, level look. "I'm going to make us start even," I said, spacing each word carefully. "That means I'm going to strip you down until both of us have the same amount of clothing on."
Carla's eyes twinkled. "That's the kind of plain talk I like to hear."
"And now for some plain action," I added, reaching for her.
Carla remained standing quietly while my hands went to the belt of her robe. I loosened the belt and flicked the robe open. She was wearing only a bra and panties underneath. I moved around in back of her, slipped the robe off her shoulders, then pulled it down her arms and off completely.
Carla still hadn't moved, and I stood behind her, the robe held loosely in my hand, and let my eyes roam over her body. Carla looked beautiful from any angle front, side, or rear. Her long black hair brushed gently against her shoulders, and my eyes followed the supple curve of her back, down past the white bra strap to the intriguing incurve at the small of her back, and then on to the full swell of her buttocks. Through the sheer nylon of her panties, each finely curved hemisphere of her buttocks was clearly visible, the gently rounded contours prettily displayed.
I let my eyes move lower, studying the perfection of her legs. The backs of her thighs were firm-fleshed and round, and her calves curved enticingly into slim ankles. As I watched her, Carla shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and this slight movement set up intriguing ripples in the flesh of her thighs and buttocks.
For one wild moment I had the sudden urge to rip the panties right off of her, exposing those rippling buttocks in all their beauty, but I fought the urge down. There would be plenty of time later for removing her panties-and I wouldn't have to rip them off, either. I'd take them off slow and easy, savoring every moment.
I looked down at her robe in my hands and tossed the robe on the couch, then moved around in front of her and faced her. Carla smiled as our eyes met, and I smiled back at her. She straightened up and drew back her shoulders as I continued to look her over. Her full breasts strained against the confining bra, the nipples puckering darkly through the thin material. She sucked in her stomach and drew her shoulders back further, lifting her breasts high.
I smiled at her and crooked a finger and said, "Come here."
Carla moved close to me. I put both my hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around so her back was to me. I let go of her shoulders and knelt down behind her and took hold of one slim ankle. She lifted her foot obediently, and I took off the red slipper. Then I did the same with the other foot. I straightened up, still standing behind her, and whispered in her ear, "Now we're both barefoot."
"Yes," she whispered back over her shoulder. "But we're not even. I have on more clothes than you do."
I grinned and reached up and took hold of her bra strap and swiftly unhooked it, feeling it spring free under the sudden release of tension. I stepped closer to her, and at the same time she moved backward, pushing her soft buttocks into my middle. Working from behind her, I slipped the loosened bra from her shoulders and let it drop to the carpet at her feet.
"And now we're both bare-chested," I uttered.
"That makes us exactly even, too," Carla said, still keeping her back to me. She moved her buttocks against me insinuatingly. "You want to take off my panties now, Phil?"
"In a little while," I answered. I slipped my hands under her arms and took hold of her breasts from the rear, cupping them and letting my fingers curl up over the front of them.
Carla let out a long sigh and wiggled her breasts and nuzzled my face in the fragrance of her hair.
"Mmmm, I like that," Carla murmured.
"You mean this?" I asked, nuzzling her again and kissing her behind the ear.
"Not exactly," Carla answered. "I meant this." She placed her hands over mine as I held her breasts, and she squeezed, forcing my fingers to tighten around her breasts.
"Always glad to oblige," I whispered in her ear, and as she dropped her hands from mine, I began to squeeze and caress her breasts from the rear, letting my fingers press gently into the soft flesh, then releasing my grip for a moment, then squeezing again. Each of her full, swelling breasts was a delightful handful in itself, and I worked on both of them together, feeling the warmth of her breasts in my palms and the soft texture of her skin against my fingertips.
Carla leaned back against me, her buttocks working slowly against my middle while I held her breasts. I let my head rest on her shoulder, nuzzling her all the while, nipping at the lobe of her ear with my teeth, kissing the side of her neck. I could feel a pulse beating steadily in her throat, and I inhaled deeply of the scent of perfume she wore.
"Mmmmm," Carla said again, and I was suddenly very conscious of the two remaining bits of clothing both of us still wore-my shorts and her panties. I wanted them off now. I wanted those soft buttocks with no fabric between us.
I let my hands drop from her breasts and moved my hands slowly down the length of her body until they rested on her hips. I waited a moment, then took hold of her panties and started to slip them down. It wasn't an easy job because Carla kept her buttocks pressed tightly against me, but I worked the panties down over her stomach first and rubbed my hands over her stomach until finally she moved forward a little, and I knew she was ready for me to remove the panties all the way.
I took hold of the back of the panties and slid them down over her curving buttocks, then knelt behind her as I pulled the panties down her legs and to her ankles. She stepped out of them daintily and turned to face me as I straightened up Her eyes were shining with eagerness, and she put her hands on the waistband of my shorts.
"You promised," she whispered.
"Go ahead," I said, smiling down at her.
Her slim fingers hooked themselves inside my shorts and she slowly moved them down over my stomach. She paused, then knelt before me and pulled the shorts all the way down. I stepped out of them quickly and kicked them aside.
I looked down at Carla, and she smiled up at me and said, "There's a big quilt at the foot of the bed, Phil. Will you get it for me, please?"
Disappointment must have shown on my face, because she smiled gently and said, "It'll only take a moment."
I nodded and went into the bedroom of her suite and found the quilt. It was big and bulky and soft and made quite an armful as I carried it back into the drawing room. As I entered the room, I stopped short. Carla had turned off all the lights, and the room was in darkness.
"Just a second, Phil," her voice floated out in the darkness.
I heard a click, and against one wall, the wall opposite the full-length mirror, an imitation fire began to glow in a fake fireplace.
"Over here," Carla called out.
"Well, well," I said brightly as I crossed the darkened room, "that's real cozy."
Carla chuckled and took the quilt from me. "We really should have a tiger-skin rug and a genuine fireplace for this, but they don't equip hotel suites that way any more."
"This'll do just fine," I said, and I helped her spread out the quilt in front of the fireplace. The imitation fire looked pretty realistic at that. Behind some composition logs, red and yellow light bulbs flickered on and off, giving a good imitation of a genuine fire burning low.
Carla stretched out on her side on the rug and looked up at me. In the flickering, wavering light, her body gleamed softly, intriguing shadows moving across her breasts and stomach and thighs. I sank down to the quilt next to her, and she moved immediately into my arms.
Her mouth found mine, and her warm lips touched mine in a soft kiss. We held the kiss for a long while, our lips touching lightly, our arms around each other. Then I felt her lips part, and the tip of her tongue moved out, probing against my lips and teeth I opened my mouth slightly, and her tongue darted in, warm and searching.
I tightened the grip of my arms about her, and she squirmed her body closer to mine. I could feel her full breasts pushing against my bare chest, and the softness of her stomach against my middle sent warmth all through me.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows and howling around the corner of the building. It made everything seem doubly warm and cozy there on the quilt in front of the phony fireplace and the imitation fire. The drinks I'd had were spreading their intoxicating heat through me, and the close contact with Carla's soft, supple body added to the effect. Deep inside me a small stirring of hunger for her began to build up. It would, I knew, get stronger and stronger until finally the pressing need for her would be too great to hold back.
Carla moaned softly, and her tongue moved into my mouth again, caressing, probing, touching my tongue and circling it. Her slim fingers played with the nape of my neck and my earlobes, leaving a trail of tingling flesh wherever she touched me. My own hands were busy, too, moving up and down her back, stroking her hips, caressing the curving softness of her buttocks.
We finally broke apart, and Carla rolled over on her back and stretched her arms above her head, her body taut and lovely in the flickering light. I looked down at her upraised breasts, seeing the smooth skin, the fullness, the erect nipples. I leaned over her and, while she gazed up at me, kissed each nipple.
A tremor ran through Carla's body, and her hands reached up impulsively, circling my neck, pulling my head down to her breasts again. As my head came down, she kept one hand on the back of my neck, and with the other hand cupped her breast and held it up to me. My lips touched the firm, upraised nipple, and I opened my mouth and let her move the front of her breast into it. I closed my lips about the warm flesh, pressing my teeth against it gently, giving her a love bite that brought forth a moan of delight from her throat.
Carla's hand tightened on the back of my neck, pulling my head down further. She twisted with excitement, and a deep sigh of ecstasy came from her throat.
I knew from all the nights I had spent with Carla in the past that she was especially sensitive to what I was doing to her now. More than once I had brought her to the point where she was half-wild with desire just by kissing and caressing her breasts. Her wonderful breasts were not only her fame and fortune in Hollywood they were also the key to unlocking the deep, latent passion in her.
I had used that key before.
I was using it now for all I was worth.
I kept my lips on her breast, working away slowly with my lips. Carla's body squirmed and writhed, and her breathing became heavier. Her fingers twisted in my hair, and she arched herself, pushing her breast further against my mouth.
"Oh, Phil...." she moaned. "Phil ... Phil ..
I kept on with it. I was just beginning to work on her, and she knew it. I switched quickly to the other breast, letting my lips go to work immediately.
Carla whimpered with pleasure.
It was getting to her now. Her body moved convulsively, and I could feel a warmth rising from her that told me passion was building up in her rapidly. I kept my lips on her breast and began to move my hand over her body.
I touched the soft roundness of her hips, feeling them move under my hand as she squirmed with pleasure. Then I let my palm rest lightly on her stomach and caressed gently. Carla gasped, and I moved my hand slowly down to her legs, keeping my lips on her breast all the while.
At the touch of my fingers on her legs, her knees moved eagerly. The warmth of her legs spread through my hand, and I flexed my fingers just a little. Carla answered by tightening her leg muscles, squeezing my hand.
I squeezed back.
Carla's legs moved again, freeing my hand. I ran my fingers up and down her legs, gently, barely touching the smooth surface of her skin. Between that and the way I was kissing her breast, she moaned repeatedly now, and the writhing and twisting of her body had increased.
I took my lips from her breast and looked down at her, continuing to caress her legs as I gazed at her. Her eyes were bright, shining in the flickering light of the imitation fire. Her body arched upward, her uptilted nipples beckoning me. I smiled down at her, and bent over her and kissed each nipple. Carla strained upward, pulling my head down to her breasts again.
I needed no further indication of what she wanted. I kissed each breast alternately, and Carla gasped and moaned and her body rocked under my hand. I slid my hand on her legs and touched her gently.
Carla almost went crazy. She gave a small, bleating cry, and twisted around slightly, and I felt her free hand grope along my body. Her long, slim fingers squeezed gently.
It was my turn to gasp with pleasure, and Carla smiled and began to caress me with expert movements of her finger. I bit down on her breasts now, not hard, just dimpling the skin with my teeth, and Carla cried out with joy. Her fingers were like tongues of fire on me, bringing me quickly to the point where I thought I couldn't stand it any longer. But I held on, knowing that each moment we delayed would be a moment of joy, of sheer pleasure.
Carla was whimpering again now, and I knew she was trying to hold on just like I was. But in a few moments it was apparent that neither one of us could keep under control much longer. Carla's hips were thrusting upward, pushing herself against me, and the pressure of her fingers increased.
Our bodies were moving involuntarily now, both of us caught up in the frenzy of our passion. Carla's whimpering changed into a steady moaning, interspersed with quick gasps of delight as I caressed her with my hand and my lips. Her fingers were driving me crazy, building the swelling passion in me second by second.
It was time now.
I lifted my head from her breasts, took away my hand, and Carla, sensing that the moment had come, released her hold on me. Her body continued to move, although I was no longer touching her, and her mouth was open, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Swiftly, I rolled over on my knees, and Carla twisted around in position. Her hands went to my shoulders, pulling me down to her. I lowered myself and then with an ecstatic upward movement I took her.
A long sigh came from her throat, and her arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. I pushed downward, and her body lurched against mine in a sudden frenzy of movement, and her heels hooked behind my knees as she sought leverage.
Our bodies were locked now, and we let our passion take complete control. Carla's nails dug into the flesh of my back, urging me on, and I responded with a series of movements that made her cry out sharply.
There was no stopping us now. We were blind to everything but the driving need for each other. Our bodies churned against each other, and Carla was like a woman gone wild. She uttered short, sharp little cries of pleasure as she surged up against me. Her arms held me while her buttocks bounced against the quilt with every motion of her hips.
Her open mouth found mine, and her tongue slipped in eagerly. She was using everything she had now, hips, arms, tongue-the whole works. Her eyes were shut tight, her arms were holding me clasped to her frenzied body.
There was no time for finesse now, no time for any variations. There was just the relentless drive to fulfillment, and we lost ourselves completely in the rapture created by the need of our bodies.
I pulled my lips away from Carla and sucked in deep breaths of air. She pulled my head down to her again, her open mouth waiting for mine, her tongue already in motion. I ran my hands roughly over her body as we rocked together. My fingers dug into her flesh; her nails raked my back; her body pressed against me urgently, feverishly.
The final moment was coming fast now, rushing toward us in exciting, thrilling waves of delight. Even as we continued to kiss deeply, Carla moaned way down in her throat, and the sound of it almost drove me crazy.
And then it came-that final few seconds of sheer bliss. I had my eyes shut now, and pinwheels of light whirled around in the darkness as passion swelled in me to the bursting point. Carla tore her mouth from mine and I heard her voice screaming thinly in my ear as her desire reached its peak.
It was a glorious finish for both of us, a whirlwind of frantic movement that lifted and carried both of us into soaring delight.
After it was over, Carla's body continued to move with desire against mine for a few moments, and then I felt her relax and go limp. She let out a long breath, smiled up at me, and kissed me quickly on the lips.
"Oh, that was good!" she whispered. "That was something, Phil."
"It sure was," I said, and I slowly moved myself from her and rolled over on my back.
We lay next to each other on the quilt, not saying anything, just resting there in the darkness with the flickering light of the fake fire in back of us. Finally, Carla stirred and slipped her hand into mine.
"Let's go to bed now," she said.
"Uh-huh," I answered, getting to my feet and helping her to her feet.
I gathered up the quilt while Carla switched off the fireplace, and then we made our way into the bedroom in darkness. Moments later, we were snuggled comfortably under the quilt in the bed.
I felt tired, but it was a good sort of tiredness, the kind that makes you feel relaxed and warm and comfortable all over. Carla kissed me and whispered, "Good night," and I said good night to her and closed my eyes. She turned on her side, cuddling up to me, and I slipped an arm about her.
It didn't take long for both of us to fall fast asleep.
CHAPTER THREE
When I woke up, sunlight was pushing through the drawn drapes on the bedroom window, and for a moment I was not too sure of what had awakened me. All I knew was that something soft had brushed my face, bringing me instantly awake.
I raised my head and glanced down and saw Carla smiling at me from the next pillow, and I knew now what had happened. She had awakened first and had brushed her lips across my cheek. It had happened like that before on other mornings with her. It was her special way of waking me up.
"Good morning," she said huskily. "Sleep well?"
"Like a top," I answered, and I slid one arm along her pillow.
Carla accepted the invitation and snuggled up to me while I put my arm around her shoulder and held her close. She lifted her face, her lips parted, and I kissed her. Her lips were soft and still warm from sleep.
"You don't mind my waking you up, do you, Phil?" Carla asked.
"You're worth waking up for," I told her.
We kissed again, holding longer this time, our lips touching gently.
"It's been a long time, Phil," Carla said.
I nodded. "Seven months."
"Yes ... seven months. Seven long months." Carla's voice took on a wistful note. "I missed you, Phil."
"Not according to what I read in the papers," I said, and I instantly regretted the words. They had slipped out before I even knew I was saying them. Nothing like that had been on my mind-but the words had come out anyhow, dredged up from somewhere in my subconscious.
A hurt look leaped into Carla's eyes. She was silent for a moment, then said softly, "That wasn't very nice, Phil."
"Sorry," I said gruffly, not wanting to go on with it, but knowing now that we would have to talk about it because I had blurted out words that could not be retracted.
"You meant that Hollywood director, didn't you, Phil?" Carla said. "I guess so."
"Don't be vague, Phil. That's what you meant by that remark, wasn't it?"
"All right, all right. That's what I meant-and I'm sorry I said it. Let's forget it, huh?"
But it wasn't going to be that easy. Carla's beautiful face was solemn, her eyes regarding me steadily, almost defiantly. "You know why I went out with that director, Phil," she said in a hushed voice.
"You did more than just go out with him-if those gossip columnists were right," I said. I didn't know what was making me do this to her. I didn't want to fight with Carla. I didn't want to hurt her. Yet that was just what I was doing.
"All right," Carla said. "So I did have an affair with him. Hollywood is big-league stuff, Phil. They play for keeps out there. If you want something badly enough, you've got to be willing to pay the price."
"What did that director have that you wanted, Carla?" I asked, keeping my voice low. I still had my arm about her, and it felt kind of funny to be talking to her like that with both of us naked and close together under the covers.
"He's promised to direct my next picture," Carla said simply. "He's one of the top men in Hollywood. With him as a director, I can really go places-maybe even an Academy Award."
"I see."
"Do you, Phil? Do you really see? You're a big boy now, you know. You should know that nothing comes easy, especially success. You have to work hard, very hard, and you have to take advantage of all the breaks you can get."
"You mean cut a few corners, don't you?"
"Yes, that's just what T mean. Hollywood is full of talent. There's more competition in that place than in any other spot in the world. Cutting corners, working the angles, playing your cards right-I don't care what you call it. It's something you have to do if you want to get ahead."
"Thanks for the lecture on the facts of life," I said dryly.
"Don't get sarcastic with me, Phil," Carla said quickly. "Please don't use sarcasm. That's no way to discuss this."
"I don't want to discuss it at all," I said.
"Oh, sure. First you make a nasty remark about me, and then you say you don't want to discuss it. That's not very fair, Phil."
I knew I was fighting a losing battle, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Okay. Go ahead and talk."
Carla looked at me steadily. Her body was rigid with tension against me. "We've been over this before, Phil," she said softly, obviously trying to keep herself under control. "I'm a good actress, and both of us know that. But sometimes talent isn't enough. Contacts are important, too."
"You mean you have to use people, don't you?" I said. "Let's not beat about the bush, Carla."
"Yes ... You have to use people. If you don't, you'll find yourself out in the cold. I'm using that director, sure, and he's using me, too. But both of us are getting what we want out of it." She paused and looked at me beseechingly. "I've told you all this before, Phil. You're not a fool. You can see what I mean Why do you insist on being so-" She groped for words. "Being so-"
"Honest?" I asked.
"That's one way of putting it, T guess," Carla admitted.
I smiled thinly. "You think I'm a fool, don't you?"
"No, Phil. You know I don't think that of you. It's just ... well, you've got too much pride. You ... you want to do everything completely on your own. You won't accept help, and you won't use contacts with people to help you get ahead."
I shrugged. "Guess I'm just not built that way."
"Don't say that!" Carla snapped. "It makes you sound ... weak." She reached up and touched my cheek. "And if there's one thing I do know, Phil, it's that you're not a weak man."
"Speaking physically, of course," I said dryly.
A faint smile touched her lips. "There's nothing weak about you mentally either, Phil. You're just a little too stubborn, too proud."
I smiled back at her with a sense of relief. We had skirted the edges of a serious quarrel, and I knew now that it would be all right. We could continue to talk about it, but the danger was past. We would not fight with each other over it.
"Well, maybe you're right," I said. "I don't like to accept favors from people unless I feel I can pay them back. And I guess that's why I won't build up contacts and use people, either."
"Try it, Phil," Carla said earnestly. "Try cutting a few corners for once in your life. You'll be surprised at how much it can do for you."
"Maybe I will," I said. "Who knows, I might even become so successful that I'd be able to take you out in public." I smiled to show her that I was treating the whole thing lightly.
"You can do that right now," Carla said seriously. "You can take me out right now anywhere you want to, Phil. I'd be proud to be seen with you in public."
I shook my head quickly. My attempt at lightness had failed, and Carla had touched on a sore spot without really meaning to.
"Why not, Phil?" Carla pressed on.
"You know why."
"It's that darn pride of yours," she said. "It sure is."
"But you don't mind staying with me like this each time I'm in New York, isn't that so, Phil?"
"That's different," I said, feeling my face grow warm.
"Different?"
"Yes," I said. "This is private, just between the two of us. I'm not going to have us gossiped about I'm not going to have everyone say that I'm taking advantage of you just because you're a big star and I'm no one important."
"You're important to me, Phil," Carla said softly.
I reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair from in front of her eyes. "Thanks," I said.
"You're very important to me, Phil." She took a deep breath. "Why do you think I've never married all the time I've been out in Hollywood?""
"Let's not talk about that," I said quickly. I knew what she was leading up to. We had been through this before. I wanted to stop her, but I knew there was no way I could keep her from going on.
"Marriage is something very vital to me, Phil," she said. "I've had plenty of offers in Hollywood. I'm not bragging. Every actress-almost every attractive woman, as a matter-of-fact-can get lots of proposals out there. But I've turned them all down-and you know why."
I looked away, avoiding her eyes. "I'd marry you in a minute, Phil," she said in a low, hushed voice.
"Please, Carla...."
"Why not, Phil? We talked about marriage once, remember?"
"That was a long time ago," I mumbled. "That was when we were in summer stock, when both of us were...." I let my voice trail off. She knew what I meant. Both of us were equal then, just bit players. Carla had not yet become a big star, and I had not yet become a flop as an actor.
"Yes, it was a long time ago," Carla said. "But my feelings haven't changed. Have yours?"
"No."
"Then why wait any longer, Phil?"
I took a deep breath. "I've already told you why. When I get married, my wife is going to be known as Mrs. Phil Devlin. I am not going to be called the husband of Carla Russell."
"Oh, Phil! That's just foolish pride."
"No, it isn't," I said.
"You wouldn't want me to stop being an actress, to give up my career, would you?"
"Of course not."
"Well, then I'll always be known as Carla Russel!"
She smiled softly. "But I'll be your wife just the same. I'll be Mrs. Phil Devlin in private life."
"I'm not talking about that," I said. "I don't want you to give up your career or the name you've made famous. Can't you see, Carla? Unless I make some kind of a name for myself, and the money that goes with it, I'll always be known as Carla Russell's husband. I couldn't stand that kind of public ridicule."
"But we're not in competition with each other, Phil," Carla protested, snuggling a little closer to me under the covers. "I don't feel superior to you, and I certainly would never look down on you."
"Maybe not right now," I countered. "But you would-in time. Don't get me wrong, Carla. I don't necessarily mean I have to be a big success as an actor. It can be in any field. As a matter-of-fact, I've been thinking of trying my hand at directing, and if I can make the grade in that, then everything will be all right with us. What I'm driving at is that I'm a nobody right now-and that makes marriage out of the question."
Carla looked thoughtful. "You want to try directing?"
"Yes. I assisted the director on my last acting job. Didn't do much, but I did get a taste of it, and I think I've got some aptitude for it."
"Maybe I can help," Carla said. "I've got some pretty good connections out in Hollywood and-"
"You mean your director friend?"
"He's one of my connections, yes,"
"No, thanks."
"Phil, you're being foolish."
"All right, all right," I said. "So I'm being foolish."
I felt anger rising in me, not anger at her but at myself.
And suddenly I understood why I had started this whole thing with that remark about her director friend. It had been my way of letting off steam, of finding some release from the awful pressure of facing my own failure. I was out of work, in debt, just about flat broke. I had lashed out at Carla because of my own misery. Her affair with the director shouldn't have upset me that much. Carla had always been honest with me about what she was doing in Hollywood. She had told me time and time again on her infrequent visits to New York that she was playing the Hollywood game for all it was worth, and this meant that every now and then she had to go to bed with someone who could help advance her career. It had never been pleasant for me to think about this, but I appreciated her honesty, and I knew Carla felt this was the only way to get ahead fast in Hollywood.
Carla looked at me reproachfully, not saying anything, but her eyes spoke volumes. I had hurt her-and all she had been trying to do was to help me in the only way she knew. She moved away from me, slipping out from my arms, and turned her back to me. She didn't leave the bed, but the rigidity of her back and her complete silence was like a dash of ice water in my face.
Suddenly, I was fed up. I'd had enough. Here I was in bed with one of the most beautiful women in motion pictures, with her begging me to marry her-and all I could do was prattle on about my pride! I wanted Carla. I wanted her with a deep hunger that was driving me almost crazy. But I was losing her. I knew that. Maybe this was to be our last time together. I couldn't blame her if she rejected me after what had happened now.
I didn't want to lose her. I couldn't lose her.
All right! I told myself as I stared at her back. All right, I've had enough!
I was tired of scrounging for a living as an actor. I was tired of feeling I had no right to be seen in public with Carla. I was tired of being pushed around by circumstances. I'd fight back! If it meant cutting a few corners, working the angles, taking advantage of people-well, then that was what I'd do.
And then there suddenly popped into my mind a plan so completely thought out, so perfect in every detail, that I realized it must have been in my subconscious all along. It was a good plan, too, and I was glad of the opportunity it presented to me.
"Jason Thorpe!" I said out loud.
Carla raised her head and looked at me over her shoulder. "What did you say?"
"Jason Thorpe," I repeated, smiling broadly.
Carla turned around and faced me. "Who's he and what are you smiling about?"
I reached for her and pulled her close to me. She came willingly, but with a puzzled look in her eyes. "Jason Thorpe," I said mysteriously, "is a man I met at a party a couple of nights ago."
"So?"
I stopped smiling and looked at her closely. "Yon really meant what you said, didn't you?"
"Meant what, Phil?"
"About how I should cut corners and work a few angles."
"Yes, I mean it"
"You wouldn't think any the less of me if I did something like that?"
Carla smiled. "Of course not."
"Well, I've figured out a way to cut one little corner, and if it works ... well, I think I'll have hold of something good."
"Tell me about it, Phil."
I put both arms about her and kissed her on the tip of her beautiful nose. "First, I want you to understand something, Carla. About that director in Hollywood-I guess I was just jealous. You understand?"
"You've got nothing to be jealous about, Phil."
"But just the same," I said, "you can see why I wouldn't want you to use your influence with him to get me a break, can't you?"
"Yes, Phil, I can see that."
"But that doesn't mean I won't use your help," I added.
Carla nodded. "How can I help, Phil?"
"This Jason Thorpe I mentioned, he's a very rich man."
"That's the best kind to know," Carla said, smiling.
I smiled back at her. Now that I had made the decision to play the game her way-now that I had taken that first important step-the rest was easy. Not that I thought I'd be able to pull it off without hard work or difficulty. It was easy only in the sense that my mind was untroubled about it. I had made my decision-and that was that as far as I was concerned.
"Jason Thorpe," I went on, "is not only very rich, but he's also nuts about the theater. He's always throwing parties for show people-that's how I met him and he attends every first night opening without fail. He's even invested in a lot of Broadway shows that didn't make the grade."
Carla snuggled in real close to me. The wonderful warmth and closeness of her body almost made me forget all about Jason Thorpe and the plans I had for him, but I kept control of myself and went on.
"Anyhow, I met Thorpe at a party, and we got to talking. I didn't pay much attention to him at first until I heard him mention your name, Carla. Seems he's a big fan of yours, the old goat."
"He's an old man?" Carla asked.
I shook my head. "Just a figure of speech. He's not old, and he's not young. Sort of in between. His hair is snow-white and so is his mustache, but he looks too healthy and sun-tanned to be really old." I glanced at Carla and grinned. "From the way Jason was horsing around with all the young girls at the party, I'd say he's old enough to have had plenty of experience and still young enough to do a lot of damage."
Carla chuckled. "That's the dangerous age."
"And he's got enough money to get all the women he wants," I said. "He has an office, I know, but he doesn't seem to do anything for a Living. Just spends all his inherited money."
"A good man to know," Carla said thoughtfully.
"I didn't think so at the time," I told her. "But I think different now." I gave her a faint smile. "I couldn't resist the temptation to do some name-dropping when he said he was a fan of yours. I told him I knew you personally and that we were good friends, and you should've seen his eyes light up when he heard that. He grabbed hold of my arm and hung on to me and started firing questions at me about you."
"What sort of questions?" Carla asked in a guarded voice.
I laughed and squeezed her hip under the covers. The usual fan-type questions. You know-whether you were as beautiful off-screen as on, what kind of a person you are in real life, and so on and so forth. I gave you a terrific buildup with old Jason."
"Thanks," Carla said, laughing. "I can always use another fan."
"You willing to make use of him to help me?" I asked.
"Anything short of murder, Phil," Carla said, and I knew she meant it.
"Nothing that drastic," I told her. "Here's the gist of it. It seems like Jason's got some crazy idea of building a theater, out in Queens."
"In Queens?"
"Yep. He said why should all the theaters be in Manhattan, not counting the summer theaters, of course. It's his idea that Queens would be an ideal spot to build up a new theatrical section. It's in the city limits; it has subway transportation; the Long Island Expressway goes out there; and it's the fastest growing borough in New York City."
Carla bit her lip and thought it over. "Just how serious is he about all this, Phil?"
"Serious enough. He already owns a piece of land out in the Rego Park area. He figures he'll build a modern theater out there with a parking lot big enough to hold more cars than there'll be seats in the theater. And the parking will be free, too. That should be an inducement to the theater-going public, all right. And even if they don't come out by car, it's within a short taxi ride from Manhattan-to say nothing of the subway. And don't forget the restaurants on Queens Boulevard."
"Sounds good," Carla said.
I shrugged my shoulders. "It has possibilities. But Jason isn't stopping there. He not only intends to build the theater, but he also plans to provide all the financial backing for the plays that will be presented there."
"He's got that much money, Phil?"
"That much and more."
"You do have a good contact there, Phil," Carla said enthusiastically. "A real good contact."
"So it would seem," I said. "But the idea is to make proper use of old Jason."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"Well, while we were talking, I mentioned that I had decided to give up acting and go into directing. Jason had evidently taken some sort of liking to me probably because I knew you personally-and he gave me his card and said I should give him a call sometime in the future and maybe we could work something out."
"Well, that was a good opportunity for you," Carla said, and she pressed herself a. little closer to me. Once again, the warmth of her body almost drove all thoughts of Jason Thorpe from my mind.
"A good opportunity?" I said. "Maybe. But it didn't strike me that way then. He said it in a sort of offhand way, for one thing. For another, you're always meeting some kind of character at these parties, you know, and I didn't pay too much attention to him at the time. But I did keep his card-and now I'm going to make good use of it."
"How?"
"Will you come with me and talk to him?"
Carla pursed her lips. "I do have a busy schedule, Phil-but I'm sure I can manage the time."
"Good! Then here's what I want to do-if it's okay with you, of course. I'll call Jason and tell him that you're in town and that I told you about his idea for opening a theater out in Queens. I'll tell him that you think it's an idea that has great possibilities and that you'd like to meet him. He'll jump out of his skin at the chance to see you in the flesh."
"And what then, Phil?"
"Well, while we're talking, you can sort of hint around that you wouldn't be adverse to the idea of appearing in the first play in the new theater-especially if I would be the director."
Carla's eyes widened. "You've sure learned how to work the angles very fast, Phil."
I smiled at her. "You don't have to commit yourself, of course, and you don't have to be very specific about it. You're a good actress, Carla. If you can get old Jason to believe that you'll appear in a play that hell produce, with me as the director, then I can take it from there. I've got a hunch I can get Mr. Jason Thorpe to come across with a good job for me."
"What sort of a job?"
"Directing the first play."
"That's aiming pretty high, Phil."
"All you need is self-confidence," I said with my newly-found self-confidence.
Carla grinned. "You're a rascal, Phil Devlin."
"Then you'll do it?"
"Sure. I'll put on a good act for old Jason. You set up the meeting so it'll fit in with my schedule. I don't have too much time here this trip, you know."
"I know," I said, wrapping my arms about her. "And I intend to spend all your free time with you."
"Doing what?"
"This," I said, and I kissed her soundly. "Mmmmm."
"You like that?" I asked.
"Mmmmm," Carla said again. She closed her eyes, and I kissed her again. Suddenly, she pulled back from me, her eyes wide open.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I just thought of something."
"What?"
"What'll happen to you when Jason finds out I won't be appearing in his theater?" She smiled wryly. "You know, he's bound to find out sooner or later that we've been stringing him along."
"Leave that to me," I said firmly. "All I want now is a chance to get in good with him. After that, I'll be able to handle anything that comes up."
"Boy, you really are full of confidence this morning!" Carla said happily.
"And I'll stay that way, too," I answered. "Now, where were we?"
"Doing this." She pressed her lips to me, and her tongue snaked out into my mouth.
I dropped my hand to the small of her back and pulled her in close to me. Her soft middle pressed against me, and the roundness of her hips rubbed along my legs as she adjusted her position to me.
Carla sighed deeply, and I held her close to me and kissed her again and again. We had been talking for a long while, lying there naked next to each other. And although our minds had been on what we were saying, our bodies had been in close contact all the time. Now the time for talking was over.
Carla responded to my kisses, pushing herself up against me, darting her tongue deep into my mouth as we kissed, pressing herself against me as though she wanted every inch of her gorgeous body to come into contact with mine. There was no need for any talking now. Our bodies took over, and our hands roamed each other's flesh in the universal language of the lovers' caress.
The covers began to twist from the movement of our bodies, and I reached down and flipped them off of us. Cool air rushed over both of us. Using my feet, I kicked the covers clear down to the foot of the bed, and then, with one final kick, pushed them off the bed completely.
The pillows were next I wanted plenty of room, and I didn't want any blankets or pillows or anything else on that bed except us. I gave a tentative tug on the end of Carla's pillow, and she sensed what I had in mind. She raised her head, and I pulled the pillow out from under her and tossed it over the edge of the bed. Then I did the same thing with my pillow.
Now the bed had been cleared for action-just the two of us on the sheet covering the mattress. It was a big bed, too, big enough for whatever we wanted to do.
Carla raised herself on one elbow and looked down at me, her eyes half-lidded, her lips slightly parted, a look of anticipation on her face. Her full breasts were only inches from my face, the pink-tipped nipples beckoning to me.
I moved my head toward her breasts, figuring I'd give her the treatment she loved, just as I had done last night. But Carla had other ideas. Gently, she pushed me back, and the look in her eyes told me that she had some plans of her own for me. I grinned up at her and lay there waiting to see what she would do.
I didn't have to wait long.
Carla brought her mouth down over mine and stopped just an inch from my lips. She opened her mouth slightly, and the pink tip of her tongue darted in and out suggestively. I remained quiet, unmoving, watching the delightful movement of her tongue. Her breasts had swung forward as she bent over me, and the tips of her nipples just brushed my chest, setting my skin tingling where they touched me.
Carla moved her face closer to mine, her tongue still working but not yet touching me. She was deliberately holding back, prolonging the contact of our mouths, teasing me, exciting me as only she could do it. Then she bent down some more, and now the tip of her tongue touched my lips. I kept my mouth closed, and her tongue slowly traced the outline of my lips. Her breasts were now resting full on my chest as she braced herself with a hand on either side of me. She moved her shoulders slightly, and her breasts rubbed excitingly against my chest.
It took a lot of self-control, but I remained quiet.
This was Carla's show, she was calling the shots, and I sensed she wanted me to lay still while she went ahead with what she had in mind.
Her lips came down on mine, very gently, barely touching. It wasn't even a kiss, just a light touching of her lips to mine. Then her tongue began to probe against my closed lips-once, twice, three times-and each touch of her tongue was like darting fire.
Finally, unable to hold back any longer, I opened my mouth under hers. InstanUy, her tongue darted in. At the same time, her mouth came down against mine in a full kiss. Her lips worked against mine slowly and tantalizingly, while her tongue busily explored the inside of my mouth, finally finding my tongue and caressing it.
Carla sucked hard against my mouth, resting herself on my chest now, her hands no longer supporting the weight of her body. I put my arms around her and let my hands roam up and down her back, and all the while she kept on kissing me, her tongue never once stopping its feverish thrusting.
I moved my hands down to Carla's buttocks as she half-knelt, half-reclined beside me, with her breasts crushed against my chest and her mouth mashed down on mine. I squeezed her buttocks with both hands, and I felt her body stir. I squeezed again, digging the tips of my fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks.
Carla finally broke the kiss and raised her head. I still had my hands on her buttocks, and she reached back, smiling all the while, and took hold of my hands and gently took them away Holding my wrists, she placed my hands by my side, palms down against the bed.
Once again, I lay quiet and unmoving, looking up at her, waiting for her to go on.
Carla knelt beside me and, arching her back, raised her arms and stretched, giving me a wonderful view of her magnificent breasts rising upward with the movement of her arms. Then, with another smile, she came down again. This time she placed her cheek against mine, and I felt her soft breath on my ear.
She rested like that for a moment, and then the tip of her tongue caressed the lobe of my ear. I felt my body twitch, and sensations of warmth raced through me. Carla turned her head slightly so her mouth now hovered directly opposite my ear. I could feel her warm breath on me, and then her lips touched my ear and, a moment later, her tongue flicked in and out quickly.
I almost jumped off the bed, but Carla placed her arm across my chest and I quieted down a little. Her tongue was now busily teasing my ear, sending wave after wave of delightful heat through me. It's funny how sensitive a man's ear can be, and Carla knew how to play on that sensititvity for all it was worth.
She moved down to my throat next, kissing it, her tongue still flicking and darting over my skin. She went to my chest next, and I knew now what she had in mind. She was going to caress me with those warm lips and tongue of hers, moving lower and lower each time until she finally gave me the ultimate caress. Anticipation raced through me, but I kept myself under control. Carla knew what she was doing, and the longer it took the sweeter it would be.
Her mouth was on my chest now, covering me with quick butterfly kisses. Her tongue traced over each flat nipple, and then her teeth bit down gently, barely dimpling the skin. Once again, I had to fight to keep myself under control.
I felt her lips slide down over my ribs and then on to my stomach. She went immediately to my navel, kissing it warmly, and when her tongue flicked in and out, fire seemed to spread through me.
Carla's hands were busy now, too, while she continued to kiss my stomach. She was kneeling opposite my middle now, crouched down low, her buttocks curving tautly, her face pressed to my stomach while her silky black hair spilled forward and brushed my flesh.
She lingered at my navel for a long while, then began kissing me quickly and lightly all over the stomach, moving a little lower with each kiss. I felt her breasts resting against my side as she crouched over me, and I reached down, groping with one hand, until I touched one breast. I closed my fingers over the front of her breast and squeezed gently. Her nipple grew warm and erect in my palm, and a low moan escaped from Carla's lips-but she didn't stop kissing me.
Then, finally, she raised her head and was motionless for a moment, her face poised above my middle, breathing heavily. She was so close to me, I could feel the warmth of her breath on my middle. One hand rested lightly on my chest, the other was on my thigh, her long fingers stretched out so they rested on my thigh.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she brought her head down, her lips ready. It seemed to take forever, but it was actually only a matter of seconds until her lips finally kissed me. My hand was still on her breast, and as her lips touched me, my fingers instinctively tightened.
I squeezed her breast hard, and I felt her body tremble, but she kept right on, not stopping for a moment.
I let go of her breast and grabbed her hair with both hands. She was driving me almost crazy, and she knew it, too.
I opened my mouth and sucked in great lungfuls of air, trying to keep from groaning again, fighting to hold myself under control, feeling every muscles in my body tense with excitement. Desire mounted in me rapidly, like a rushing torrent of molten heat.
Finally, Carla released me and slowly raised her head. She smiled softly, almost to herself, and then, moving swiftly and easily, she moved over me, straddling my middle. She sat upright for a moment, still smiling, her soft buttocks plumped down against me. I reached out and put my hands on her arms, and she leaned forward slightly and started a gentle bouncing motion.
Sharp sensations shot through my body. Carla increased the bouncing motion while I continued to grip her arms tightly. She was moving faster now, her buttock? rising clear of my body, then coming down slowly, then rising again, and all this while she leaned forward, supported partly by my grip on her arms and partly by her hands braced on my chest.
The bouncing continued, and my eyes were now fastened on the delightful movement of Carla's breasts as she kept on plumping herself down against me. The pink nipples jogged up and down as her breasts heaved and bounced with the movements of her body. It was a fascinating sight, but what Carla was ooing to me was even more fascinating.
She had now added something new, a twisting motion each time her buttocks came down against my middle. She followed a steady, rhythmic pattern-first raising herself quickly while her breasts heaved upward, then coming down against my middle with the soft plumpness of her buttocks, and then twisting a couple of times. After she had done this several times, I found myself moving along with her, raising my body to meet hers as she came down on me, and then twisting along with her.
I still held my grip on her arms, partially supporting her as she straddled me, her knees on either side of my body. And she kept up the bouncing, twisting motion, not stopping for a moment. The sight of her swaying breasts and the feel of her buttocks against my middle excited me as I had never been excited before.
Finally, by a slight outward pressure of her arms, she indicated that she wanted me to release my grip. I let go of her arms, and she immediately crouched down to me, placing her cheek next to mine, pushing her breasts against my chest, raising her buttocks high in the air. She came down slowly, and I knew it was time to finish what we had started.
I shifted myself around under her as she came down; Carla adjusted her position while she lowered herself; it was accomplished with ease.
For a moment, both of us were still. Carla crouched whet He was, her warm body against me, her body moving only slightly as she breathed deeply. It was a moment of calm, of quiet, as both of us savored the warm pleasure.
Then Carla suddenly went into action.
Her buttocks heaved, and she began a pumping, twisting, churning motion that made me gasp for breath.
Her arms slipped under my shoulders, she pressed her face to mine, and her arms gripped me excitedly. I reached up and ran my hands up and down her back as she moved in that wild dance with me. Her supple skin was smooth and in continuous motion under my palms, and an intoxicating heat spread from her body to mine.
I slipped my hands down to her buttocks and held on while I matched her movements. I dug my fingers into the mounds of her buttocks, helping her lifting upward each time she raised herself, then pulling her to me as she came down.
We were in the throes of the final moments now, our bodies feverishly ramming against each other. I could hear Carla gasping and groaning in my ear, and then she cried out piercingly and her buttocks went into frantic motion as she reached the climax of her desire. I reached it at the same time myself, and for several glorious seconds we rocked together in sweet ecstasy.
Carla collapsed on me when it was over. Her legs straightened out, and she lay sprawled on top of me while both of us caught our breath. The warmth from her body seemed to spread through me, and I wanted nothing more than to stay the way we were. I was relaxed, drained of all tension, and her weight on me was hardly noticeable.
But good things can't last forever.
I sighed, kissed her, and said, "Time for me to go now, I guess."
Carla nodded, kissed me once more, then rolled off me. She got off the bed and stood looking down at me.
"You go ahead and shower first," I said.
She smiled. "All right, Phil. I won't be long."
After she had gone into the bathroom and I heard the sound of the shower, I climbed off the bed, found a cigarette, and lit it. I drew in a deep breath of smoke and let it out slowly. Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and smoked quietly while I thought of the day ahead.
It was going to be a busy day for Carla. A movie star has very little free time. She had a benefit to do at a local hospital, then a banquet, and there was an interview with a magazine writer lined up later.
I was going to be busy, too.
I had a lot of thinking to do-and a lot of planning also. I still felt full of self-confidence, but I knew, that what I had in mind wasn't going to be easy.
Jason Thorpe would have to be approached carefully. I'd have to plan as thoroughly as I could.
I couldn't afford to muff this chance.
CHAPTER FOUR
The meeting with Jason Thorpe was set up for two weeks later.
I tried to make it sooner than that, but Carla's schedule was so heavy that it just couldn't be done. As it was, the meeting took place on the night Carla was due to take a flight back to the coast at one in the morning-and that was cutting it pretty fine.
I couldn't complain, though. First, Carla had agreed to help me by stringing Jason along. Second, and perhaps more important, if it hadn't been for Carla, I would have starved during those two weeks. Carla came across with a thousand bucks on the same morning that she agreed to help me with my scheme for taking Jason for a ride.
I didn't ask for the money.
But then I didn't refuse it when Carla offered it.
Funny, but once I had made up my mind to play the angles, I had no more false pride about accepting money from Carla. She offered it to me just before I left the hotel suite, and I put up a weak protest at first, but then took her check with thanks. I made it clear to her that it was just a loan, of course-and I meant it, too. I needed some money with which to operate until I had set things up with Jason, and I told Carla that I would repay the money just as soon as I could.
After I had left her, I cashed the check. I kept out enough for my immediate needs and put the rest in a checking account, which I opened in the same bank where I cashed the check. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of starting a savings account with part of the money, but I quickly discarded the idea. With a checking account, the money was always available, and I could write a check whenever the need arose. There'd be time later on for a savings account-after I had began to make money.
There was no question in my mind that I surely was going to make money, and lots of it. I had made up my mind to that.
Nothing was going to stop me.
As I left the bank, I patted my back pocket where my newly-fattened wallet made a comfortable bulge, and I shook my head in wonderment at how quickly things had changed for me. All I had had to do was to make that one decision to stop being such a noble character and start playing the game the way others did.
It was easy after that. Everything seemed to go my way.
Even the meeting with Jason Thorpe went just as I had hoped it would.
I brought Carla over to his apartment on Sutton Place about nine in the evening, and Jason himself greeted us at the door.
He grabbed hold of my hand and pumped it up and down exuberantly. You would have thought we were old buddies who hadn't seen each other for years.
"Phil, my boy!" he said heartily.
"How are you, Jason?" I answered calmly. From the moment he had opened the door, a feeling of renewed confidence had swept over me Jason was so obviously enamored of the sight of Carla that I knew I had him in the palm of my hand.
"I'm fine, Phil," he said. "Just fine."
He was talking to me, but his eyes were on Carla. I smiled to myself. This was going even better than I had expected.
"Carla, this is Jason Thorpe," I said. "Jason, meet Carla Russell."
He dropped my hand and grasped Carla's extended hand in both of his.
"I've been looking forward to this ever since Phil called and set up the appointment, Miss Russell," he gushed.
"Call me Carla, please."
Jason touched his white mustache with his forefinger and smiled and nodded and said, "All right ... Carla." He stepped back from the door and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Please come in."
We entered the apartment and, after Jason took our coats, followed him into the living room. It was a big room, high-ceilinged and plushy furnished.
"Sit down, sit down," Jason said cheerfully.
Carla sat down on a small couch, and I deliberately chose a chair facing her, leaving the seat on the couch next to her for Jason.
"Would you care for a drink?" Jason asked.
"Yes, thank you," Carla said, smiling sweetly at him. I knew Carla. She was turning on the charm expertly-not too obviously, of course. Jason's eyes told me that he was caught up in a whirlwind of excitement at the thought of having Carla in his apartment accepting a drink from him. I thought for a quick moment of making some excuse and leaving, but then realized that this would be a little too obvious.
"Scotch?" Jason asked.
Carla nodded. .
"How about you, Phil?" Jason said. "Scotch will be fine, Jason."
He nodded happily and walked to a small bar against the wall and began preparing the drinks. He had his back to us for a moment, and I exchanged a quick look with Carla. She nodded her head briefly, understandingly, and I knew she would carry it through in great style.
Jason turned and faced us as he poured the liquor. I studied his face, which was something I could do without his noticing me because his eyes were fastened on Carla. He was a big, bluff type of man, white-haired and white-mustached, and his heavy sun tan was obviously a combination of a good sun lamp and frequent winter vacations in Florida.
As I had told Carla earlier, Jason's white hair was a contradiction. A close look at him showed that he was in excellent physical condition and that he was still young and energetic enough to enjoy a romp in bed with a willing woman. In fact, according to the gossip I had heard, Jason did enjoy himself in just this manner on many an occasion.
But, most important of all, Jason had the air of wealth about him. It was obvious he had money and that he liked to spend it.
He was going to spend some of that money on me, I promised myself.
Carla and I would see to that.
"Here we are!" Jason said heartily, bringing a tray of drinks with him as he crossed the room. He set the tray down on a small coffee table in front of the couch, handed a glass to Carla, gave me mine, and took his glass in hand and stood erect. He looked, at that moment, just like a British colonel about to propose a toast at the Regi mental Dinner.
"I'd like to propose a toast," Jason said, and I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing at the accuracy of my thoughts. I got to my feet with a straight face and waited for him to speak.
He lifted his glass, bowed slightly to Carla, and said, "To a beautiful and talented lady."
Carla blushed prettily, and I knew she wasn't putting it on. She was genuinely flattered by his outspoken admiration of her.
Jason and I raised our glasses and drank to Carla and, still blushing, she whispered, "Thank you."
It was a very touching moment-for Carla.
As for myself, I sat down again barely able to conceal a small, sly smile at Jason's elaborate posturing.
Jason cleared his throat noisily and, with an air of forced casualness, sat down next to Carla on the small couch. They were sitting very close together, and I saw Carla's expression change subtly. The spell of Jason's toast had been broken, and she was once again the superb actress ready to play her part in the little skit I had arranged for Jason's benefit-as well as for my own eventual benefit, of course.
"It's a ... a great honor to have you here ... Carla," Jason stammered, and I took a quick swallow of my drink to keep from laughing. Old Jason was about to make a speech!
But he fooled me. There was no speech.
Jason licked his lips and looked at Carla, and it was immediately apparent that he had forgotten what he wanted to say.
Carla bridged the awkwardness with a quick smile and a gentle pat on his hand as she said, "I've been anxious to meet you, Jason-ever since Phil told me about that wonderful idea of yours for a theater out in Queens."
What a woman! I thought. Not only had she flattered him, but she had gotten right to the point.
Jason's eyes glowed with happiness. "You really think it's a good idea?" he asked, like a puppy wagging its tail and waiting for a pat on the head.
"I think it's tremendous," Carla said warmly, and if I hadn't known better, she could have fooled me completely. "Please tell me all about it."
Jason beamed at her and immediately launched into an enthusiastic description of his proposed theater. I listened with only half an ear. My mind was busy, my thoughts racing ahead as I planned the best way of taking advantage of Carla's conquest of Jason. That she had conquered him was obvious. Even as he talked, his eyes roamed from her face to the cleavage between her breasts, which showed at the top of the low-cut dress she was wearing. Carla's magnificent breasts would bulge out any dress, but the dress she was now wearing had been designed to show her off to full advantage. Her breasts were full and high and threatening to burst out of the top of the dress at any moment-and Carla made the most of this. She kept putting her glass down on the coffee table after each small sip, and this necessitated her bending forward each time she set down the glass. And each time she did this, there was an abrupt break in the flow of Jason's speech as he caught his breath in wonderment.
I got quite an eyeful myself, of course, and since I had seen more of Carla's beauty than Jason could imagine, I knew what effect this display was having on his nervous system. Carla's swelling breasts were softening him up for the kill, and that was what I had intended.
But the big question still remained.
Once he was sufficiently softened up, how were we going to spring the trap?
I thought about this a lot as I sipped my drink and watched the two of them, Carla listening intently while Jason kept up a steady flow of talk. It would have to be handled carefully, I knew. Jason was a fool, but not so big a fool that he wouldn't see through my scheme if the idea were presented too bluntly. I kept racking my brain to think of the right approach. Carla saved me the trouble.
Jason finished talking and took a big gulp of his drink, and Carla said, "That's a wonderful idea, Jason! Really wonderful!" A wistful look came into her eyes. "I'd give anything to be able to work in a theater like that. Imagine, modern dressing rooms, perfect acoustics, the most up-to-date facilities! Why, it'd be an actress's dream come true."
Jason's face flushed with sudden excitement. "You really think so?"
"Yes! Yes, of course!" Carla said, her eyes bright.
"You mean you'd consider doing a play in this theater?" Jason asked.
Carla nodded her head emphatically. "I most certainly would, Jason." A thoughtful expression came over her face. "Of course, it would have to be a suitable play."
"Naturally," Jason agreed.
"Well," Carla said brightly, "if you're really serious about building this theater, and if you had a good play, and if it had a strong leading role, and if-" she turned and smiled at me "-if you had someone as competent as Phil here for the director, and if ... well, I guess that's too many 'if's' already, Jason."
He took the bait and rose to the implied challenge in her voice. "It's not impossible, Carla. I already have the land, and if I got started right away, I'm sure I could have the theater built in record time."
Carla sipped at her drink and said nothing. I deliberately avoided looking at her, and she, too, kept her eyes from me.
Jason scratched at his chin. "It might take some time to get a good play for you, but I think I can manage that." He turned and looked at me quizzically. "You'd want Phil for a director?"
"If he's available," Carla said, implying by her tone that my services as a director would be in great demand. "If not, then someone at least as good as Phil."
"I see," Jason said thoughtfully, and there was a bidden gleam of excitement deep in his eyes as he obviously began to think that the whole thing might be possible after all.
"I couldn't make any promises right now," Carla said, playing it just right. "I wouldn't want you to get any false hopes, Jason."
"I understand," Jason said. "But you are interested?"
Carla nodded. "I'm always interested in a good part," she said truthfully.
Jason smiled broadly-and I knew we had him.
I leaned back in my chair and relaxed and drank slowly and let my mind roam free. Jason and Carla kept on talking, but it was mostly small talk now, and I wasn't at all interested. I refilled my glass a couple of times, and it was as though I wasn't even there with them Jason ignored me completely, and Carla, playing her part to the hilt, paid attention only to him.
The first step had gone just as I hoped it would. Carla had won Jason over completely and, without really committing herself in any way, had led him to believe that she would appear in a play with me as her director. From now on it was up to me. I had Jason where I wanted him, and if I played my cards right, there was no limit now to how far I could go.
For the first time in a long while I felt really confident about the future. I had a definite goal now, and I was well on my way-and all it had taken was that one decision to play the game the way others did, to work the angles as much as I could.
Carla broke my train of thought by glancing at her watch and exclaiming, "Oh, I didn't realize it was this late."
"You have to go now?" Jason asked, disappointment written all over his face.
"Yes, I'm afraid I must. I have a plane to catch later, and I want to finish packing."
Jason got to his feet with obvious reluctance. "Well, at least let me take you back to your hotel."
"You don't have to do that, Jason," Carla said.
"Nonsense! I'll call down to the garage and have my chauffeur bring the car around."
Carla glanced at me, and I gave her a quick nod, which Jason couldn't see because he had his back to me at the moment. I knew Carla had assumed I'd take her back to the hotel in a taxi, but since she had to leave shortly after that both of us knew that I wouldn't stay long. As a matter-of-fact, I wouldn't even have gone up to her room with her. I would have said good-bye to her in the taxi, and it would have been a farewell without a kiss, too. The few times that Carla and I had to appear in public together-such as when I had picked her up at the hotel to bring her to Jason's-it was always done with me already in the cab when I had it stop for her. I'd sit back and keep my face in the shadows, making sure that not too many people saw me. As far as the pub Be was concerned, I was an unknown man who could be a press agent or an aide or anybody else unimportant, just someone sent to pick up the glamorous Miss Russell and escort her to where she was going. I preferred it that way, of course, and so now it made no difference to me that Jason wanted to take her back to the hotel himself.
Carla knew all this, naturally, and she correctly interpreted my nod of approval. She smiled at Jason and said, "Well, if you're sure it won't be too much trouble...."
Jason waved his hand at her to show her that it was no trouble at all and picked up the phone and called down to the garage.
Ten minutes later we were out on the street in front of the building. Jason's car was waiting at the curb and, as the doorman opened the rear door of the car, Jason turned to me. "Can I drop you somewhere, Phil?" he asked pointedly.
I shook my head, smiling. "No, thanks. I feel like walking a little before I hit the sack tonight."
Jason grunted. "I'll be in touch with you," he said, and he took Carla's arm and led her to the car.
Before she got in, Carla turned to me and smiled and said, "Good night, Phil. See you on my next trip."
""Night," I answered. "I'll probably give you a call in a few days."
She nodded once and then got into the car.
I watched them drive away and then turned and walked around the corner and hailed a cab. Regardless of what I had told Jason, I was in no mood for walking-not when I could now afford a taxi.
Back at my apartment, I relaxed and turned on the television and mixed myself a drink. The Scotch I had wasn't as good as Jason's, but I drank it cheerfully, knowing that it wouldn't be long now before I'd be able to afford whatever I wanted to drink.
An hour passed in front of the television set. I drank slowly and easily and didn't really pay attention to what was on TV. My mind was too busy running over what had happened and making plans for the future.
The phone rang, and I knew it was Carla even before I picked it up.
"Well, Phil," Carla said after I had answered, "this has been quite a night."
"How'd it go with Jason?" I asked.
"He's a hard man to fight off, Phil."
"He made a pass at you?"
"Pass, hell! He had his hand up my dress."
"In the car?"
"No. He behaved himself in the car. It was in my room."
"You let him come up to your room, Carla?"
There was a moment's pause, then she said, "I had no choice. Phil. He said he only wanted to come up for a few minutes, that he wanted to talk to me some more about the theater, and that we could talk while I packed." She gave a brief chuckle. "Can you imagine me falling for a line like that?"
"Tell me about it," I said, lighting a cigarette.
"Well, old Jason went to work the moment I closed the door of the room. He-he had me down on the bed in less than a minute."
"He attacked you?" I said, my voice rising.
"Well, not really, Phil. The old buzzard's one of the smoothest operators IVe ever seen. Before I knew it, he had his arms about me and was kissing me." She giggled. "His mustache is real soft."
"Never mind that!" I snapped. "What did he do to you?"
"Jealous, Phil?" There was a teasing note in her voice.
"What did he do, Carla?" I repeated in a flat voice.
"Well, he didn't get to do what he wanted to do, if that's what you mean, Phil?" She giggled again. "But for a while there I thought he'd have my panties off before I could stop him."
"Go on," I said, puffing furiously on my cigarette.
"There's not much more to tell. He managed to get me down on the bed and get his hand up my dress but that's as far as he got. He kept trying to talk me into staying over for one more night, even promised to have me flown out to the coast in the morning in his own private jet plane. I tell you, Phil, he doesn't take no for an answer." There was a long pause, and then she added, "You know, in a way it was almost flattering. Jason has a very polished technique, and he knows how to ... to grab a woman without making her feel it's something evil."
"Maybe I should take lessons from him," I said, and I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice, "Oh, come on, Phil. No harm was done. Besides, I didn't want to insult him and maybe queer the whole deal for you. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"
"No ... I guess not."
Carla chuckled. "Well, neither would I. So don't get upset by this, Phil. It wasn't really unpleasant."
"Okay," I said.
"I wish you could see me off at the airport, Phil."
"You know that's impossible."
"Yes-I know. You call me out in Hollywood now, like you promised, you hear?"
"I will."
"I'll try to get back to New York soon. Phil."
"I hope so, Carla."
"Will you miss me?"
"You know I will."
I heard her draw a deep breath. "Well...."bye for now, Phil."
"Good-bye," I said, and I waited until she had hung up before I slowly replaced the phone on its cradle.
I stubbed out my cigarette, mixed a fresh drink, then lit another cigarette and sat down in the chair and stared at the dark screen of the TV set, which I had switched off when the phone rang. I smoked and drank slowly while I tried to convince myself not to be angry over what Jason had tried. It was part of the game, I told myself. You try cutting corners and you have to expect something like this every now and then. It's part of the price of getting ahead. Carla had told me that often enough, and I understood it-but it was a different matter when it hit me personally. This wasn't the same as her affair with the director. I didn't even know the guy. He was just a name that I had read in the newspapers.
But Jason was different.
Jason was a man I had introduced to Carla myself and I couldn't control the pictures that flashed through my mind-pictures of him forcing Carla to the bed that I had shared with her, his Lips on hers, his hand sliding up under her dress, Carla struggling....
"Nuts!" I said out loud to the empty room, and I gulped down the rest of my drink. I was learning fast, I realized. I was learning that playing the game wasn't all one-sided.
I went to bed, but it was a long while before I fell asleep.
I couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that had taken hold of me.
CHAPTER FIVE
The feeling or disgust gradually lessened, and it was almost all gone a week later when Jason called me into his office and offered me five hundred a week. I snapped it up.
There was no contract. Jason told me that he was the kind of man who put great value in a handshake and a promise. He shook hands with me and promised me five hundred dollars a week, and I, in return, promised him that I wouldn't let someone else grab me away from him as a director. He also promised that as soon as the theater was built and Carla had accepted the leading part in the first play, he would give me a regular contract at double the salary he was now offering me.
I would, of course, have preferred having a contract with him right from the start, but I decided against insisting on it. Jason was no fool. He might be nuts over Carla and get stars in his eyes and ants in his pants every time he looked at her, but he was no fool when it came to business. He explained to me that since everything was now just in the planning stage, he saw no need for a contract. He would stick to his word, and he expected me to stick to mine. In other words, I would earn my five hundred by helping him select the opening play for the new theater and by convincing Carla to accept the starring role. Once that was done, then I would get my contract.
I could see that Jason was very wisely leaving himself an out. If I couldn't get Carla for him, then he would have no more use for me, and he wouldn't be bound by any contract.
It was up to me now to show him that I was as good as Carla had intimated I was. It hadn't turned out exactly as I had hoped it would, but five hundred a week was too good to turn down. If I could string Jason along long enough, I'd be able to sock away some money and would also be able to work some future angles, using my connection with him and his new theater as a selling point for some other job. After all, since the agreement between Jason and myself was strictly verbal, I could make up almost any story I wished once the connection with him was broken. I could, I knew, say that Jason and I had had a disagreement over the play or the interpretation of the leading part, or I could say that Jason interfered too much with my work-there were dozens of stories I could invent. Jason would deny every thing of course, but it wouldn't have much affect. In the theater, people are used to clashes of temperament and name-calling and accusations and denials. The mere fact that I had been employed by Jason to direct the first play would be enough to bring me some offers after he and I had parted company. And that was all I wanted-a chance to get started building a reputation.
So Jason and I shook hands, and I had to keep back a smile when he made me promise I wouldn't sign a contract with anyone else without giving him a chance to better their offer. This showed me that although Jason was playing it smart by not offering me a contract, he nevertheless had fallen for Carla's line about me being a good director.
I called Carla that same night. I had her private number, and I waited until late in the evening, New York time, when I knew she would be home.
"Phil!" she squealed when she heard my voice. "I was beginning to think you'd never call me."
"I wanted to wait until I had some news," I said.
"What is it?" she asked excitedly.
I told her about my meeting with Jason and the agreement we had reached.
She was silent for a while, then she said, "That sounds fine, Phil."
"You don't seem very enthusiastic," I said. "I realize that, to you, five hundred a week isn't very much, but-"
"It's not the money, Phil."
"Then what is it?"
"It's just ... well, the whole deal sounds a little shaky to me."
"Shaky?"
"Yes. You don't have a contract, for one thing. For another, Jason can fire you the minute he finds out we've been leading him on."
"Leave that to me," I said abruptly.
"All right, Phil. I-I didn't mean to sound so discouraging."
"Forget it," I said. "I'll handle Jason."
There was a moment of quiet, then she said, "I wish you could be here with me now, Phil."
"Me too," I answered.
She sighed. "I suppose you've read about me in the gossip columns since I got back?"
I smiled thinly. "You mean about you and the producer?"
"Yes."
"I wasn't going to mention that," I said. "Why not, Phil?"
"I figured you didn't want to talk about it," I said, telling her the truth. Less than three days after she had returned to Hollywood, the Hollywood columnists had reported rumors that Carla was carrying on with a big producer. First the director, and now the producer.
"Why shouldn't I want to talk about it, Phil? I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing."
I was about to ask her why, then, she had brought up the subject herself-but I decided not to say that. It was obvious that Carla felt just a little troubled and was trying to get some reassurance from me that I knew she was doing only what she had to do to get ahead.
"Well," I said casually, "I don't mind talking about it, either." I chuckled. "It seems Like you've got your hands full now, Carla."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you want to hang on to the director, I'm sure. But how are you going to keep the director and still get the producer? You know, your director friend may have promised to direct your next picture, but isn't he likely to break that promise now?"
"Not if I handle things right, Phil." She paused, then went on. "I need the producer, too. It's not easy keeping both of them on a string, but I'm managing okay so far. I've had to do something like this before, so I'm not exactly without experience."
"Well, good luck with it," I said, trying to inject a light, cheerful note into my voice, just as though the whole thing didn't really matter.
"Don't believe everything those gossip columnists write about me Phil."
"I never do, Carla."
"Some of them can get pretty nasty, you know, and ... well, I didn't want you to take it too seriously."
"I won't."
"They-they make me seem like a terrible woman, Phil," she said with a slight break in her voice.
"I know you better than that, Carla," I said softly.
I heard her let out her breath, and I knew I had said what she wanted to hear.
"Thanks, Phil."
"You're still my girl," I said reassuringly. "I'd better be," she said, laughing, and I knew that everything was all right now. "I'll call you again," I said. "Make it soon."
"I will."
"'Bye," Phil." There was the sound of kiss over the phone.
"'Bye," I said, and I hung up the phone.
I lit a cigarette and stared at the phone for a long while. Carla's words had been very revealing. She was troubled. She had been cutting corners and using people for so long now that it had finally caught up with her. I knew without any doubt that she would handle both the director and the producer in such a way that she wouldn't lose either one of them. But her actions were taking their toll on her now, filling her with self-doubt, making her wonder what people would think of her, making her seek reassurance from me that I didn't think badly of her for what she was doing to further her career.
Would it be that way with me? I wondered.
Would I, too, begin to doubt myself after a while? Would I become concerned about what people would think of me? Would I have to pay the same price as Carla?
They were questions I couldn't answer.
CHAPTER SIX
For one solid month after Jason Thorme hired me, I did absolutely nothing to earn my pay.
My check was mailed to me each Thursday, arriving in the morning mail on Friday. I couldn't reach Jason, and after several fruitless phone calls to his office, I finally gave up. Each time I called, I was told by a very polite and very friendly secretary that Mr. Thorpe would get in touch with me when he needed me.
So I shrugged my shoulders and decided that, as long as he was paying me, I had no kick coming. I moved to a new apartment in a better section of the city, slept late in the mornings, did a lot of reading, and had myself a nice month's vacation with pay.
I kept in touch with Carla, calling her about once a week. Our phone conversations got pretty passionate, but there were three thousand miles between us, and there's not much you can do to relieve pent-up passion over the telephone. I did manage to send her back the money I had borrowed from her. She insisted it could wait a while, but I sent it back the first chance I got. The money wasn't mine to keep as far as I was concerned.
Finally, the long-awaited call came from Jason's office. I was rousted out of bed by the insistent ringing of the phone at ten o'clock on a Friday morning. When I answered the phone, I immediately recognized the same very polite and very friendly voice of the secretary I had dealt with before.
"Mr. Devlin," she said, "Mr. Thorpe just called in. He wants you to meet him right away."
I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. "Be right there," I mumbled.
"Oh, not at the office, Mr. Devlin. Mr. Thorpe wants you to meet him out in Queens. It's at the site of the new theater."
"All right," I said. "Gimme the address."
She gave me the address and directions how to get there, and while I wrote it down I realized that, in the whole month I had been in Jason Thorpe's employ this was the first time I even knew the location of where I would eventually be doing my work.
"Okay." I said "I'll be there within an hour."
There was a moment's hesitation at the other end of the line, then the secretary said, "Mr. Thorpe expects you right away, Mr. Devlin."
"You already told me that," I snapped.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Devlin," she continued in the same polite and friendly voice, "but Mr. Thorpe said he would expect you to be there in half an hour, which is about how long it should take you to get out there."
"Did Jason think I'd be sitting by the phone with my coat on waiting for his call?" I said, taking out my irritation on her. "I'll leave just as soon as I shave and have a cup of coffee. That okay with you?"
"Please, Mr. Devlin," she answered. "I'm just relaying Mr. Thorpe's orders."
I swallowed my anger. It wasn't her fault. "Sorry, honey," I said hastily. "I'm not too sociable until after my morning coffee."
"That's all right, Mr. Devlin. I understand."
"Look," I said, "you explain to Jason that I said I'll be there in about an hour, will you? If he raises a fuss, you can tell him you delivered the message just as he ordered."
"I'll do that, Mr. Devlin, but-" she paused and seemed to be groping for words "-make it as fast as you can, won't you?"
"Sure."
"Thank you, Mr. Devlin."
I said good-bye and hung up the phone and scratched at the stubble on my chin. Uneasiness stirred deep inside me. From the way the secretary had spoken, it was evident that she was afraid of Jason Thorpe. I began to wonder just what kind of a slave-driving boss he really was.
I didn't have much time to ponder on this, though-not if I wanted to be out there within the time I had promised. I had a sneaking suspicion that Jason might take it out on his secretary if I showed up too late. I put the coffee on, then went into the bathroom and took a quick shower and shave. I gulped down my coffee while I dressed, then left the building and caught a cab out to the address the secretary had given me.
I found Jason standing with a group of men at one corner of the square block that made up the theater site. They were busy looking over a stack of papers covered with figures, and around the site, surveyors were already at work. It was evident that Jason had set in motion the machinery to design and build his theater.
I waited patiently for a few moments, but Jason never noticed me. Finally, with a respectful cough, I said, "Hello, Jason."
He turned slowly, fixing a cold eye on me. He glanced at his watch and pursed his lips.
"Came as soon as I got your message, Jason," I said brightly.
He looked at me for a moment longer, and I began to understand why the secretary had sounded afraid over the phone. It was a different Jason that confronted me now than the Jason I had seen when I brought Carla to him, or when I had shaken hands with him and accepted his offer. This was now Jason Thorpe, my boss-and he was making sure I knew it.
I had a sudden hunch that this month of inactivity for me had been deliberately planned by Jason. It was his way of putting me under obligation to him, of making me feel just a little guilty about taking his money and doing nothing in return.
"What have you been doing this past month, Phil?" he said abruptly. His voice was flat, emotionless.
"Well...." I began, and then I could think of nothing to say.
Jason kept on looking at me, his eyes unblinking, regarding me coldly and steadily.
"I-I tried to reach you by phone, Jason," I stammered. I had been about to call him Mr. Thorpe, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crawl. We had started out on a first-name basis, and I was going to keep it that way.
"What else did you do, Phil?" he asked in that same flat voice.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Waited to hear from you, Jason."
He nodded his head slowly. "I see."
Once again, he just looked at me without saying anything, and all of a sudden I began to understand. Jason was using me just as I was using him. I had the connection with Carla. He wanted Carla for his new theater. It was as simple as two plus two-only I didn't like the way it was adding up. I had a feeling that Jason had not been idle this month. He probably had done some checking on me. He was too sharp a businessman not to check up on what I had done in the past. If he had checked, then he had found out that I had no real background as a director. I felt a chill run through me. I could see myself out of a job, kissing good-bye to five hundred beautiful dollars a week. Panic started to rise in me, and it took everything I had to fight it down.
"What did you want to see me about, Jason?" I asked, forcing a casual tone.
"Have you come across a suitable play for the new theater?" he said abruptly.
"A ... a play?"
"Yes."
"I-I didn't know you wanted me to start looking yet Jason."
"We talked about finding a suitable play for Miss Russell, didn't we?" His voice had hardened slightly. "Yes, but-"
"You mean you've taken no steps at all to find a play for the theater opening, Phil?"
"I was waiting to hear from you," I said quickly, getting the words out fast before I started to stammer
"Oh, you were waiting for me," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Look, Phil, when I hire someone I expect them to have enough initiative to go ahead and do their job without needing me to stand over them and tell them what to do every minute of the day."
"But, Jason-"
"Never mind," he said with an imperious wave of hand. "It makes no difference now. Just remember it for the future, Phil." He touched his white mustache delicately with his forefinger. "I'll tell you why you weren't able to reach me," he went on. "I was busy doing both our jobs, Phil-yours and mine." He made a sweeping motion with his arm to take in the entire theater site. "I've been getting things started with the theater, and believe me, Phil, this has required a lot of time and effort on my part. But, even with all this work, I still managed to find time to hunt around for a suitable play-while you apparently were doing nothing this month."
I winced, but said nothing.
"I've found the play," Jason announced.
"You have?"
"Yes. It's by a new playwright. Her name's June Wade."
"A new playwright?" I said. "An amateur?"
"I take it you've never heard of her," Jason said calmly.
"No, I haven't,"
"Doesn't matter. She's far from an amateur."
"Has she had any of her work produced?" I asked.
"Not on Broadway," Jason said. "She's had two plays produced out in the Midwest."
I nodded my head and decided not to say anything. If Jason thought this Julie Wade had written a good play, the least I could do was not to pan it until I had looked it over. For five hundred a week I could afford to keep my mouth shut.
Jason took a pad and small gold pencil from his pocket and scribbled on the pad. He tore off the sheet and handed it to me.
"Here's her address and phone number. I've set up an appointment for late tomorrow afternoon-four-thirty, to be exact. You call her tomorrow and confirm it, then meet with her and read her play. It's called The Wanderer. I think it's a good play-needs some work on it, but it has definite possibilities."
I took the sheet of paper from him and folded it and put it in my wallet. "Okay, Jason," I said in a very business-like tone. "I'll read the play and let you know what I think of it"
He looked at me steadily for a long moment. "You do that, Phil," he said softly. "Remember, though, I don't want you rejecting it just because Miss Wade isn't a Broadway professional. As I told you, I think the play has possibilities." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, then said, "So, if you think the play won't make the grade ... well, I'll expect some very good reasons for rejection. Do you understand, Phil?"
I thought about it for a moment, then nodded my head silently. I understood, all right. Jason had selected this play, and this was the one he wanted to produce. He was just going through the motions of asking me to read it over. He had already made up his mind. My job now would be to agree with him and then to help the author work on the play and get it into shape.
"Fine!" Jason said. "I'm glad you understand." He glanced at his watch. "I'll be out of town for the weekend. You go see Miss Wade tomorrow, and I'll get in touch with you again some time after I get back."
He turned from me and rejoined the group of men who were still busy studying and discussing the figures on that stack of papers.
I had been dismissed.
For a moment, wild anger seethed in me. I clenched my fists and thought of how good it would feel to walk over and give Jason a good, swift kick in the pants, and then just turn away from him as he had from me. But I fought down the urge. I had five hundred good reasons for keeping my temper.
I turned abruptly and started walking, my fists still clenched, my face flaming hot. I walked fast, not looking where I was going. After a while, I found myself on Queens Boulevard, and I stopped and lit a cigarette and drew in a deep breath of smoke.
I knew now just where I stood with Jason Thorpe.
He had given me one full month to enjoy the taste of freedom while I drew ray pay for doing nothing and now he had cracked down on me. I was certain now that he had checked up on me during that month, and I knew he was keeping me on for only one reason-Carla. As long as Jason was convinced that he could use my connection with Carla to get her to star in the play, I was safe. If I wanted to keep my job, I had to make Jason keep on thinking that, without me, he couldn't get Carla.
It wasn't going to be easy. I could see that now.
I could see a few other things, too.
I could see why his secretary was afraid of him and probably all his other employees as well. It wasn't hard to understand because I, too, was afraid of him now. And the thing that brought about this fear was the knowledge that, with a few well chosen words, Jason could put me out of work. I'd already had a taste of what it felt like to earn five hundred a week, and that taste had been more than enough to make an addict out of me. I knew I'd do anything short of murder to keep on making that kind of money.
So this is what it felt like, I thought. This is what it felt like to be owned by Jason Thorpe. You were well paid-but he could make you feel like dirt any time he wanted to.
And you took it.
You took it because there was no other choice-if you wanted to keep on pulling in the big money every week.
I dropped my cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it under the toe of my shoe. I hailed a taxi and got in and gave the driver my address, knowing that if it hadn't been for Jason and his money, I wouldn't be able to ride in a taxi, nor would I be living in the nicer section of town where I now had my apartment.
I felt sick to my stomach.
But, I told myself, it was worth an upset stomach now and then to have the sort of money that Jason Thorpe handed out.
I wasn't going to give it up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I called Julie Wade the next afternoon, which was a Saturday. She had a low, husky voice that could evoke pictures in a man's mind-exciting pictures. "Oh, yes, Mr. Devlin," she said after I had identified myself. "Jason told me he'd have you contact me."
I glanced at my watch. It was a little after one-thirty. "Jason said he set up an appointment for four-thirty, Miss Wade."
"Please call me Julie. Miss Wade sounds so formal-even over the telephone."
"Sure, Julie," I answered. "And you can call me Phil."
"Okay, Phil." She laughed-a low, husky laugh that just matched her voice.
"I'll see you at four-thirty, then," I said. "All right. Will you come over here?"
"Sure, Julie."
"Got a pencil? I'll give you the address."
"Jason already gave it to me," I said.
She laughed again. "Jason thinks of everything."
I was silent for a moment. Even though she had laughed, there was something in her voice that told me she probably had about as much use for Jason as I did.
"Yes. 'Bye, Phil."
I said good-bye and hung up the phone. I barely had time to lift my hand from the phone when its suddenly rang. I picked it up again and said "Hello."
It was Carla.
"Oh, Phil!" she said quickly. "I'm so glad I caught you at home."
Not only her words, but her tone of voice instantly alerted me. "What's the matter, Carla?" I asked.
"Well...."
"Come on," I said impatiently. "What's wrong?"
"Well, nothing's really wrong, Phil. I-I called just to tell you something before it got back to you from another source."
"Tell me what?"
"Now, don't get angry, Phil...." Her voice trailed off.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What's there to get angry about?"
"Jason Thorpe."
I almost dropped the phone. "You mean he was there?"
"Yes, Phil. He was here ... last night. In my house." There was a long pause, and then she said. "He left just a Little while ago."
I felt my face grow hot as the implications of what she had said sank in. "You mean he stayed the night?" I asked in a voice that had suddenly Mimed so hoarse I didn't recognize it as my own.
"Yes," Carla said in a very faint voice.
"And you called just to tell me that?" I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
"Yes, Phil. I wanted you to hear it from me before it got back to you some other way."
"That was very thoughtful of you, Carla."
"Please don't be angry, Phil."
"Who's angry?"
"Phil, listen to me-"
"Why should I be angry, Carla?" I interrupted. "After all, something like this happens to me every day. I'm really quite used to it."
"Phil, please-"
"I'm glad you called to tell me, though. It does-how that at least you were thinking of me."
"Phil, will you please listen to me?" Her voice was getting desperate.
"I'm listening," I said, fishing a cigarette out of the pack in my pocket and lighting it.
"Jason flew out here yesterday," Carla said, and it was evident she was trying to speak calmly. "I didn't know he was coming. Honest, Phil, I had no idea at all that he was in Hollywood until he called me."
"Go on," I said.
"Well, he insisted on seeing me, Phil. He said it was about you and the new theater and, well, naturally I couldn't refuse to see him after that."
"Naturally," I said, puffing hard on my cigarette. I was beginning to get a glimmer of understanding now and could guess what had happened.
"Jason has been checking up on you, Phil."
"So?"
"So he asked me a lot of questions about your background and did I think you'd make a good director, and all sorts of questions like that."
"What'd you tell him?"
"I told him that I thought you'd make an excellent director, Phil. He ... well, Jason apparently checked into your previous experience, and he told me he wasn't too impressed by it."
"That figures," I said.
"And then Jason asked me point-blank if I really wanted you as my director if I did a play for him in the new theater. I didn't let you down, Phil. I want you to know that. I told Jason I'd be only too happy to have you as my director."
"He believed you?"
"I'm a good actress, Phil. He believed me."
"Okay," I said. "Now let's hear the rest of it."
"What's there to tell, Phil?" Carla said in a voice that seemed suddenly heavy with weariness. "I told you once that Jason is a smooth operator. Before I knew it, he had me in my bedroom and ... well, I guess I don't have to go into detail about it."
"Oh, by all means, go into detail, Carla," I said, not bothering to cover up the bitterness in my voice.
"Let's hear all about it. Did he rip your clothes off? Or did you undress for him first? Was he gentle? Was he rough? Tell me all about it. I'm anxious to know. I'm particularly anxious to know if you enjoyed it."
"Please, Phil, don't-don't talk like that."
"How else do you expect me to talk?"
"I did it for you, Phil. Can't you realize that?
"For me?"
"Yes."
"Don't snow me, Carla. I'm not near as stupid as I look."
"It's the truth, Phil. Jason was awfully suspicious about you. He kept on asking all those questions as though he doubted you'd be a good director, and I could tell he was thinking that you were trying to put something over on him. When he started making a pass at me, I didn't want to get him angry. I was afraid he'd take it out on you and fire you. I did it for you, Phil. It was the only way I could think of at the moment to ... to save your job for you."
"Thanks," I said. "Thanks for nothing."
"Now you're mad at me, aren't you, Phil?"
"You're damn right I'm mad!" I shouted.
"Please, Phil ... it's over with now. You can't undo it. Jason left, and he won't be back."
"Oh, sure."
"He won't be back," she repeated firmly. "He's got some business to attend to here before he leaves, and besides, I told him I'd be tied up from now on with conferences at the studio."
I finished my cigarette and stubbed it out in the ash tray. When I continued to remain silent, Carla said faintly. "Phil?"
"Yeah?"
"You do understand, don't you, Phil?"
"No, I don't."
"Will you at least try to understand? Will you do that much for me?" There was a pathetic note in her voice that wrenched at me.
"All right ... I'll try," I said wearily.
"That's all I ask, Phil."
"I'm going to hang up now," I said. I couldn't take any more.
"Phil-wait!"
"What is it?"
"You're not mad at me any more, are you, Phil?"
"No, I'm not mad. I just want to hang up now. I I've got to think."
"All right, Phil. Will you call me again soon?"
"I guess so."
"Well ... good-bye for now, Phil."
I put the phone down gently, not bothering to say good-bye to her. I lit another cigarette and tried to think. It was no use. Everything seemed to be whirling around in my mind at once. I put out the cigarette and shook my head rapidly, trying to clear it.
There was only one thing to do now, I decided only one thing that might help.
I'd get drunk.
I was going to get drunker than I had ever been before.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By six o'clock that night I still had not gotten drunk.
Ok, I had tried. I had tried real hard. I had gone through half a bottle in my apartment, then had left and started making the rounds of the bars-but it was no use. I couldn't get drunk.
My body seemed to absorb each drink with ease, soaking up the liquor like a bone-dry sponge. With each sip, I waited expectantly for the first faint stirrings of light-headedness. the initial thickening of speech, the beginnings of lack of coordination, which would show that I was on the way. But nothing happened. I kept on drinking, one after the other, and all I did was stay cold sober.
I knew what had caused this. I was too angry, too miserable, to get drunk. My mind kept racing with thoughts of Carla and what she had done with Jason, and I pictured both of them in various positions in bed, sometimes completely naked, sometimes partially clothed, and all it did was make me more angry. My mind was too active to allow me the welcome oblivion of drunkenness.
Maybe later it would finally catch up with me, I told myself. Maybe later it would hit me all at once, and then I would be gloriously drunk. But until then, all I could do was sit and drink and think of Carla.
She had said she had done it for me. I believed her. Whether or not she had enjoyed it was another matter but her prime motivation had been to help me. After years of working the angles and using contacts, she knew only one way to accomplish what she wanted, and she had used that method on Jason. I couldn't really blame her for that. It was the way she operated, and I had known that for a long while.
But, even knowing this, I couldn't keep down the anger and the misery that filled me.
I sipped at my drink and looked about me in the bar. It was the fourth bar I had been in since I left the apartment, and it looked just the same as the others-dim, cool, quiet. It was still early in the evening, and the Saturday night rush had not yet started. At one of the booths in the corner, a woman sat alone, a drink in front of her. I stared at the woman, and a hunger suddenly began to build in me. It was, I guessed, a reaction to my shock and anger over what Carla had done. And, of course, the liquor in me may have had something to do with it.
The woman was blonde, big-busted, and lonely-looking. For a moment I toyed with the idea of making a play for her, but then I knew it wasn't for me. I was hungry for a woman, sure, but I was in no mood for the give and take and playful coyness involved in a bar pickup.
I turned back to my drink and took another swallow. Down at the end of the bar another woman laughed softly. There was a husky quality to her laugh that suddenly nagged at my mind. There was something I had forgotten, something associated with a woman's low, husky laugh.
Then I remembered.
Julie Wade.
I looked at my watch. I was over an hour and a half late for our appointment. I glanced about quickly, trying to locate a telephone, then thought better of it. Why bother calling her up? I decided. It would only give her the opportunity to be icily reserved over the phone.
I'd go see her in person.
That's what I'd do. I'd show up late and, if she felt like getting nasty about it ... well, I was in the mood for a little nastiness myself. On the other hand, if she would overlook my lateness, then we could go ahead with the business of reading and discussing her play. After all, I'd have to read the play sooner or later. Jason wanted her play, and since Jason paid me, I had no choice but to do what he wanted.
I got up from the bar stool, leaving a bunch of change and a dollar bill on the bar as a tip, and walked out to the street.
I was still cold sober.
Julie Wade was quite a woman.
She opened the door in answer to my ring, and I could feel my eyes widen and my mouth fall open, despite my effort to keep myself under control. She was a green-eyed, auburn-haired goddess in tight blue Capri pants, blue ballet slippers, and a white blouse with the top three buttons revealingly unbuttoned. It took only a swift glance to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were full and high, her nipples clearly out-lined where they pressed against the taut cloth of her blouse.
She stared back at me for a long, uncomfortable moment, regarding me coolly, nothing at all showing on her face.
"I'm Phil Devlin," I said hesitantly.
She nodded briefly and continued to look at me without saying anything.
"I'm a little late," I said and gave her a tentative smile.
She nodded again, but still said nothing.
I decided that two could play at this game, and I leaned nonchalantly against the door jamb, folded my arms across my chest, and looked straight into those cool green eyes. We stared at each other for several moments, and then, with a slight shrug, she said, "Come on in."
She stepped aside, and I entered her apartment. She followed behind me and closed the door. I took my coat off and dropped it on a chair in the foyer, then followed her as she led the way into the living room. My eyes were on her tightly-out-lined buttocks under the blue Capri pants. I could see the faint line formed by the edge of her panties, and the movement of her buttocks was a delight to watch.
She stopped in the center of the room and turned to face me.
"Nice place you've got here, Julie," I said conversationally.
She looked at me, her green eyes studying my face, and she said, "I can smell liquor on your breath all the way over here."
I grinned at her tightly.
"I'm not prying," she went on, "but if you're drunk, or about to get drunk, I don't think this would be the proper time to read my play."
"Do I look drunk to you?" I asked.
"No ... but that doesn't prove anything."
"You're right, it doesn't," I said easily.
A faint smile touched her full lips. "I guess it wouldn't do me much good to ask why you're late."
"Nope. Wouldn't do you a bit of good at all."
"You're pretty belligerent, Phil. Are you always like this?"
"Nope," I said again.
"You're not very talkative, either."
"Yup," I said, and I gave her another tight grin.
"You want to come back some other time, Phil?"
"Why?"
She spread her hands. "Well, you're acting like a man ready for a fight-and I don't know you well enough to fight with you."
I smiled and went to her and, before she could draw back, kissed her lightly and quickly. Her lips felt incredibly warm and soft.
She stepped back from me, her eyes widening just a trifle. Two spots of color began to glow in her cheeks.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked in a small voice.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Just an impulse. I'm a very friendly type guy."
"I think you had better come back another time, Phil," she said in a firm tone.
"Oh, come on," I answered. "You didn't mind the kiss, did you?" I grinned at her. "It didn't hurt, did it?"
That's not the point.
"You want me to apologize?" I asked.
"I don't know if that would do any good now," she said, I made a sweeping bow. "Consider yourself apologized to ... both for being late and for the stolen kiss."
She hesitated. "You sure you aren't drunk, Phil?"
"I've been trying," I admitted. "I've been drinking, but nothing has happened." I looked at her appealingly. "Don't send me out into the cold night, Julie. Take pity on a poor slob who just can't get drunk."
She smiled faintly. "You're a funny one, Phil."
"I am?"
"Yes. I shouldn't have let you in the door in the first place, especially after you showed up so late without an explanation or even a phone call. And I should have slapped you in the face and sent you on your way after that kiss."
"But you didn't," I reminded hex.
"No ... I didn't," she said softly.
"That means you like me," I said, giving her what I hoped was another appealing look.
She chuckled. "You can really turn on the charm, can't you?"
"Beautiful women always bring this out in me," I answered gallantly.
"Especially when you've been drinking, right?" she added.
"You may have a point there," I conceded.
She sighed lightly. "All right ... you can stay." She held up her hand quickly as I took a step forward. "But only if you behave yourself. I'm in no mood to wrestle tonight."
I threw back my head and laughed.
She waited until I had finished laughing, then said, "Would you like to see the play now?"
"Sure," I said, plunking myself down on the couch. "Bring it on."
She walked to a desk against the wall, opened the middle drawer, and drew out a bulky manuscript. She came back to me, handed it to me without a word, then went to a chair and sat down and lit a cigarette.
I looked at her for a moment, hefted the weight of the manuscript in my palm, then turned my attention to the title page. It was called The Wanderer, as Jason had mentioned, and I flipped back the title page and started reading.
After about ten minutes, I lit a cigarette, glancing briefly at Julie as I held my lighter to the end of the cigarette. She was still sitting in the chair, not moving, not even looking at me. I let my eyes rove over her full breasts thrusting against the white blouse, took a quick look at the way the tight pants out-lined the roundness of her hips as she sat there, and then I turned back to the manuscript.
It was good. There was no doubt of that. There was also no doubt that it needed a lot of work. Too many rough spots, some dialogue that was too stilted, and a second act that dragged kept the play from being topnotch material But the possibilities were there, and that's what really counted. I had tn admit grudgingly that Jason had picked a good play.
As I read, I became completely absorbed in the play. It was the story of a wandering man, a sort of refined drifter, who enters the lives of two sisters a few weeks after they have lost both parents in an automobile accident. The sisters are young, pretty, and only three years apart. Carla would be excellent in the role of the older sister. It was a meaty role, something she could sink her teeth into. The younger sister had a good part, too, and so did the drifter. It was a three-character play full of drama, strong emotion, and a very believable story. With proper handling, I felt sure it could become a big hit.
I had gone through two more cigarettes by the time I finished the play. I turned the last page and sat quietly, holding the manuscript in my lap, looking down at it speculatively. Easy now, I warned myself. Take it easy. Don't go overboard. I realized that I had been drinking, and although I wasn't drunk, all the liquor in me could easily have clouded my judgment. My mind had felt extremely clear and sharp while I had been reading, but still I didn't quite trust myself. I'd have to read the play again, go over it once more when I had not been drinking. If I got the same reaction after the second reading, then I would know for sure.
"Well?" Julie said, breaking into my thoughts.
I looked at her and immediately forgot the warning to myself to take it easy, to hold back judgment until a second reading.
"It's a great story I" I burst out.
Julie blushed. "You really think so?"
I had a little better control of myself now. "Yes," I said calmly. "The story idea is fine. Of course, there's still a lot of work to do on it."
Julie nodded. "But you do think it's good, Phil?"
"It's good," I said. "Nobody can predict success, Julie. You know that. But, in my opinion, you've got hold of something good here-and I'll be happy to work with you on it."
Julie flashed me a brief smile, but it faded quickly and was replaced by a troubled look.
"What's the matter?-" I asked.
"Tell me, Phil," she said in a low voice, "would you have said the same thing about the play if Jason Thorpe hadn't told you he wanted to produce it?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.
"I'll put it a little more plainly, Phil. Jason told you he had selected my play, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"And Jason is the boss, right?" I nodded.
"So you couldn't very well turn down my play even if you wanted to, isn't that right, Phil?"
"That's right."
Julie took a deep breath, and her breasts threatened to push right through the thin material of her blouse. She saw the direction of my gaze, and one hand went to the neck of her blouse, holding it closed.
"Then I'll ask you again," she said. "Are you saying that the play is good just because of Jason's interest in it? Or do you really think it's a good play?"
I took my time about answering. What I said was important to both of us. "I'll be honest with you, Julie. If your play had been terrible-really terrible-I still would have had to say I'd work with you on it. Jason's paying the bills, and I've got no choice but to go along with what he wants. But the honest truth is that your play has tremendous possibilities-and that makes my job that much easier. I don't have to lie to you."
Julie flashed me another smile, and this one stayed on her lips. "Thank you, Phil," she said softly.
"Don't thank me yet. I told you there's still a lot of work to be done on the play. If we can whip it into shape, we'll have a good chance of a hit. If not-" I shrugged my shoulders and left the sentenced unfinished.
"I understand," Julie said.
I put the manuscript down on the coffee table in front of me. "Well," I said briskly, smiling at her. "what do you say we have a drink and celebrate the beginning of our collaboration?"
Julie looked doubtful. "A drink?"
"Yes. You do drink, don't you?"
"Sure," she said. "But ... well, you've had quite a lot already tonight ... or so you've told me."
"I told you true," I said, grinning at my poetic phrasing "I have indeed had a lot to drink."
"You sure you want another one, Phil?"
I thought about it for a moment-and all of it came back to me. Carla's phone call, what she had said to me, what Jason had done with her-not to her, but with her because she had cooperated with him-it all came back to me now.
And it hurt.
It hurt a lot.
I looked at Julie and said, "Yes, I'm sure. I want another drink."
"Then you shall have one," she said brightly, and she opened a small liquor cabinet built into the wall. "What'll you have."
"Anything," I said.
With an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, Julie turned to the cabinet and busied herself with a bottle and some glasses and ice cubes. When she turned back to me, she held a drink in each hand.
"It's Scotch," she said.
I nodded and held out my hand and took my drink from her and got to my feet.
"To success," Julie said, raising her glass.
"To money," I amended, and I clinked my glass against hers.
We drank, and I could feel the Scotch sliding smoothly down my throat, and then its warmth was spreading all through me.
It felt good.
Real good.
Julie lowered her glass and looked at me steadily and said, "I have a hunch."
"You do?" I asked, taking another swallow of my drink.
"Yes. T have a hunch you and I are going to get along just fine in working on my play."
"What makes you think that?"
"You've got an honest face, Phil."
I snorted. "That's a good one."
"I mean it," Julie said simply.
"Old Honest Phil, that's me." I said. "Don't let my face fool you, Julie. Remember, you yourself pointed out that I would have agreed to accept your play and work with you on it even if it had been terrible-all because of Jason Thorpe. I don't call that being very honest, do you?"
"You were honest enough to admit it, Phil."
I snorted again, but said nothing. I finished my drink in one fast gulp, and the warmth in me now began to build into a consuming heat. For the first time since I had started drinking after the phone call from Carla, I felt just a little lightheaded. I held up my empty glass and looked at Julie questioningly.
"Sure, go ahead and have another one," she said.
"You want one, too?" I asked.
She finished her drink and handed me her empty glass. "Yes, thanks. I'll have another."
While I prepared the drinks, Julie sat down on the couch and talked across the room to me.
"You know, Phil, I have a feeling you don't have much use for Jason," she said speculatively.
I grunted and kept on preparing the drinks.
"I'm not trying to trap you, Phil," she said quickly. "We can be frank with each other. We'll have to be, if we're going to work well together."
I turned with the drinks in my hand and came back to her. I handed her one of the drinks and sat down beside her.
"What do you think of Jason?" I asked her.
She made a face and took a quick sip at her drink, "I think he's an old lecher."
I laughed shortly, and made no effort to keep the bitterness out of my laughter.
"Don't you agree with me, Phil?"
"I'm no expert on lechery," I said. "But I'd say you've got a point there."
Julie shuddered slightly. "I'll tell you something about Jason, Phil." She paused for a moment, took a swallow of her drink, and then went on. "I've known Jason about six months now. Met him at a party. I've gone out with him a few times, and in the course of our conversation, he naturally found out about my play-wrighting activity. He asked to see a copy of The Wanderer about a month ago."
"That's just about the time he hired me," I interrupted.
"I know. Well, Jason read the play and told me he thought it was terrific, and he said he thought it had a good chance of being the first play he'd produce in his new theater. I got all excited about it, of course-but I should've known Jason better by that time."
I sipped at my drink and said nothing.
"You know, Phil," she said candidly, "I made a big mistake showing Jason how excited I was. He tried to use my eagerness to his own advantage-if you know what I mean."
"I can guess," I said.
Julie smiled faintly. "Jason had been trying to get me in bed from our very first date, but I foiled him each time. I guess I became sort of a challenge to him. He had to make me just to save his pride. There are men like that, you know, Phil."
"You're talking to one," I said dryly.
She looked at me closely. "No you're not, Phil. You're just putting on an act for me. You're teasing me."
"All right ... I'm just a big tease," I said in the same dry tone. I finished my drink and closed my eyes for a moment and savored the wonderful feeling of the Scotch-heat racing through my body. Then I opened my eyes and looked at her and said, "So what finally happened with Jason?"
"I didn't give in, if that's what you mean."
I grunted.
"Oh, Jason put up a great try. He kept on talking about my play and hinting broadly that there'd be no doubt about his producing it if I'd weaken and surrender my virtue."
"Your what?" I said, feeling my tongue start to thicken.
"Correction-" Julie said tartly. "-If I'd surrender what was left of my virtue. That better?"
"Much better," I said lazily.
She gave me a hard look, but then smiled and went on. "Well, Jason was the one to finally give in. He told me he wanted to produce my play and would ask you to read it and help me with it." She paused. "That's why I was a little suspicious of you at first, Phil."
"Suspicious?"
She nodded. "Yes. I thought Jason might have given you instructions to say you weren't too keen about the play but that you'd leave the final decision up to him, of course. And then, when you had me all primed and ready and anxious to get on the good side of Jason, he'd step back into the picture and make one more try at getting me to bed with him."
"I wouldn't do a thing like that," I said heatedly. "I'm no man's pimp."
"I know that now, Phil. But you can't blame me for being a little suspicious at the start, can you? After all, the only thing I knew about you was that Jason had sent you to me."
"And you think he's finally given up now?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
I smiled at her. "Maybe Jason is still trying. Maybe he figures you'll now be so grateful he's going to produce your play that you'll give in."
"Not a chance, Phil. It'll never happen."
"Okay, Julie ... if you say so."
"I do say so!" she snapped back.
"I believe you," I told her.
"Don't humor me, Phil."
I smiled at her again. "You wanna fight?"
She opened her mouth as though to come back at me with another snappy remark, then clamped her Lips shut and glared at me.
"All right," I said finally, and held out my hand to her. "I'm sorry I've been needling you. Let's be friends."
Julie pouted for a moment, then grinned and took my hand. "Okay-friends."
I held on to her hand. Her slim fingers rested lightly in mine, and she made no effort to pull back.
I looked at her steadily, and she stared back at me, her hand still in mine. I knew now that all the liquor I had imbibed was finally taking effect on me. I wasn't really drunk-not rolling, staggering drunk-but the sudden stirring deep inside me was the kind of woman hunger that comes only with heavy drinking.
Julie, with her woman's intuition for things like this, must have sensed what was happening to me. She started to pull her hand back, but I tightened my grip.
"No!" she whispered. "No, Phil!"
Her words were lost on me. The hunger was too great now. Maybe it was the result of all the drinking; or maybe it was because of what Carla had told me. I didn't know. But whatever had brought it on, I knew the hunger was not to be denied.
Julie knew it, too. I could see it in her eyes. There was some fear there, and also some doubt, and I knew that she was making up her mind fast. She could either give in to me-or she could resist me and scream for help at the top of her lungs.
I'd find out soon enough which it was to be.
CHAPTER NINE
Julie didn't scream.
But then she didn't give in very easily, either.
I held on to her hand and moved closer to her. She strained backward, her breasts thrusting against the white blouse, but she made no real effort to get away from me. Her lips were parted, her green eyes wide, staring at me unblinkingly. She knew what was coming next, and the look on her face was a curious mixture of fear and anticipation.
I let got of her hand and took her by the shoulders. I could feel her body grow suddenly tense under my touch. With my hands on her shoulders, I turned her until she was cradled in my arms across my lap. She offered no resistance to me, but her body was rigid and unresponsive. It was like holding a fully-dressed store dummy.
"Relax," I muttered, and I slowly bent my head down to hers.
She gazed up at me with open eyes as I brought my mouth down on hers. Our lips touched. I held the kiss, waiting for her to respond. Nothing happened. Her arms were stiff at her sides, her lips unmoving under mine. When I finally raised my head, I saw that her eyes were still wide open, still staring at me unblinkingly.
I waited a moment and then tried again. I kissed her harder this time, mashing my mouth down against hers. I could tell she was fighting to keep herself unresponsive. She was letting me have my way with her but that was all. I wasn't taking her by force. She was submitting without a fight. But she wasn't helping me, either.
It was frustrating.
At least when a woman fights back, it can make it an exciting time for a man. This way, it was nothing. Julie wouldn't fight back, and she wouldn't do anything else to either help me or hinder me.
I kept my mouth on hers, feeling anger start to build in me. This wasn't the way I wanted it to go. There was no fun, no excitement, no sensation in my arms. I had just about decided to give up and call it a night and go on home when I felt Julie stir slightly-and then her lips moved just a little under mine.
A savage thrill shot through me. She was beginning to respond. I felt suddenly strong and confident, and I knew that although her response had been slight it marked the beginning. From here on in, it was going to be fun.
Lots of fun.
I kept my mouth on hers and, without any preliminary touching or caressing, placed my hand squarely on her breast. Her body twitched, more with surprise I guessed than with passion, but she made no move to take my hand away. I curled my fingers over the front of her breast and slowly rubbed my palm against her nipple. The material of her blouse was so thin that it was almost as though I held her bare breast in my hand. That would happen soon, I decided. I'd take off her blouse the moment I felt she was ready.
I kept my hand on her breast, rubbing it gently, feeling the nipple come erect. We were still kissing, and I slowly pushed the tip of my tongue against her lips. For a second or two, she held back. Then her lips parted and her mouth opened, welcoming my tongue. I eased the tip of my tongue into her mouth, and that seemed to set her off all of a sudden. Her arms came to life, one of them going around my neck, the other around my back. Her breast pushed against my hand as she strained up against me, and her lips began to work furiously against mine as my tongue probed deep into her mouth.
After a while she pulled back from me, her mouth still open, her eyes full of self-doubt.
"Phil ... Phil...." she whispered, "You don't know what you're doing to me."
"I know very well what I'm doing," I answered, kissing her quickly and lightly.
"I didn't want it to turn out this way," she said, looking down at my hand on her breast.
I squeezed her breast gently, and she raised her eyes and looked at me-and I could see the doubt gradually fading away.
It was all right now.
She wanted me.
I smiled at her and let my hand drift from her breast to the fourth button on her blouse. Julie kept her eyes fastened on my face as I unfastened the button. She said nothing, but her breathing quickened perceptibly. I moved to the next button, which was the last, and her blouse fell open. I slipped my hand inside and cupped the warmth of her breast. At the same time, I bent dowD to kiss her.
Julie's hand tightened on the back of my neck bringing my head down fast. Our lips met with a rush and this time it was her tongue that went into action, snaking into my mouth eagerly and excitingly.
While we kissed, I continued to caress her breast The nipple was hard and erect and nestled hotly in my palm. The flesh of her breast was soft and warm and yielding, and I let my fingers trace over it tenderly. Julie twisted around in my arms, turning her body more to mine, forcing her breast against my hand.
It was time now to take off her blouse.
I drew my head back from her, breaking our kiss, and my hand moved swiftly, pulling the blouse out of the Capri pants. I started to slip it back from her shoulders, and then had to stop because Julie had suddenly pulled my head down to hers again and was kissing me furiously. She showered one kiss after another on my lips, and I responded by holding her tightly and slipping my hands under her blouse and rubbing her bare back.
I was more anxious than ever now to get that blouse off completely.
And the rest of her clothes, too.
I waited until she paused for breath, and then I gently held her away from me, guiding her with my hands until she was sitting upright on the couch instead of leaning backward across my lap as she had been before. Without a word, I slipped the blouse back over her shoulders and down her arms and off completely. I held the blouse in my hand for a moment, then tossed it over the end of the couch.
Julie looked at me with eyes that were bright with excitement and outspoken hunger. It hadn't taken too long to warm her up, and I guessed that it had been some time since she had gone this far with a man. If what she had told me was the truth-and I was sure it was she had spent most of her time recently fighting off Jason and his exploring hands.
I looked down at myself and realized that I was still fully dressed while she was already naked to the waist, and without getting up from the couch or making her move over, I started to strip off my jacket. Julie continued to look at me while I tore at my clothes, and I let my eyes travel over her naked breasts in open admiration of her beauty. Her breasts were big, full, and beautifully-shaped. No wonder she hadn't worn a bra she didn't need one. Her breasts had no sag at all, and both nipples tilted upward in rosy glory. The hunger in me grew as I looked at her, and I worked fast on my clothes. In a few moments I, too, was stripped to the waist, I reached for her, but she shook her head quickly.
"Changed your mind?" I asked, trying to keep the worried note out of my voice. "No," Julie whispered. "Then what's the matter?"
"I want to be naked ... completely naked!" Her voice was barely audible now, and her eyes were two brightly glowing green embers.
"That can be taken care of," I said.
"I want you naked, too, Phil."
"I intend to be," I told her. "But all in good time."
I reached for her again, and she came to me quickly, wrapping her arms about me and crushing her mouth against mine. As her tongue darted between my lips and forced its way into my mouth, I realized that I had really started something by making a pass at her. I had awakened a deep passion that had apparently lain dormant in her for a long while; and once the floodgates were opened, once her initial resistance had been overcome, there was no holding back for her. She was not going to hold me off as she had Jason. I was not trying to bribe her into going to bed with me as Jason had. What we were doing now was strictly for pleasure; there were no ulterior motives on my part or hers.
And, as her tongue continued to move frantically in my mouth, and as her lips rocked against mine, I sensed that Julie was ready to give all of herself to me with complete abandon. There was a feverish intensity about the way she was kissing me that told me we would drain every drop of excitement and sensation from each other before the night was over.
She pulled back from me, took a deep breath, and said, "Now, Phil! Make me naked now!"
I nodded and placed my hands on those tight blue pants she was wearing, feeling under the slick smoothness of the material the warm softness of her flesh. I fumbled around for a moment, then muttered, "How do they come off?"
Julie chuckled. "There's a zipper in back." She twisted around in my arms until, without my being aware of what she had in mind, I found her stretched out face down across my lap. She wriggled a bit, settled herself into position, and then raised her buttocks slightly and said, "See the zipper?"
"Yes," I answered, noting the cleverly concealed zipper. It ran from the top of her pants near the small of her back down over the wonderful curve of her upturned buttocks.
T placed my palm on her buttocks and rubbed slowly "Well?" Julie asked. "What are you waiting for? Pull down the zipper."
I gave a short laugh. "You're in a perfect spanking position," I said suggestively. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Don't tempt me," I said, and T laughed again and gave her a gentle pat on the buttocks. "Now, stop that, Phil!"
"Why?"
She twisted her head and looked up at me, her auburn hair falling over one eye. There was an impish expression on her face, and I knew that it was no accident that she had placed herself in this position across my lap. She continued to look at me with that impish expression, and she still had not answered my question as to why T should stop. The truth, of course, was that she didn't want me to stop-but I knew she wouldn't come right out and say it. She was being very feminine about the whole thing. She was inviting me to spank her-playfully, of course-but at the same time was pretending that she'd rather I wouldn't.
She turned her head and let it rest on the couch. "I suppose I can't stop you," she said with mock resignation.
"Nope, you can't," I said cheerfully, and T gave her another little pat. Her buttocks quivered delightfully under the blue pants. "I think every woman should be spanked regularly," I added.
She sighed, but did not answer.
I smiled to myself and reached for the zipper, pulling it down slowly, all the way down over her buttocks. The pants parted along the length of the zipper exposing the pink panties underneath.
I spread the blue pants open and started to slip them down over her hips.
"The shoes have to come off first," Julie said in a muffled voice.
I grinned and reached down and took hold of one ankle and lifted her leg, bending it backward at the knee. I removed the ballet slipper and let her leg drop back. Then I did the same thing with the other slipper.
"There's a zipper in each pant leg," Julie said m the same muffled voice.
"Thanks," I said dryly, and once again I reached for her ankles. It took only a moment to unfasten the two zippers.
"Anything else I've overlooked?" I asked "No," came Julie's muffled reply as she answered me without raising her head. "You can take them off now."
I took hold of the blue pants with both hands and moved them down her hips. Julie raised herself, and I slipped the pants off her buttocks. It was a bit of a struggle after that, getting those tight-fitting pants down her thighs. But I managed it with some help from Julie, who squirmed and wriggled while she lay across my lap, and I finally pulled the pants off her ankles.
I rested for a moment, looking down at her. The pink panties were sheer, and the curving mounds of her buttocks showed through the flimsy material. I placed my palm on the panties and rubbed slowly. Julie made a purring noise in her throat, and her buttocks moved under my hand as she wriggled around on my lap.
It was time to take the panties off.
I took hold of them, hooking my fingers under the elastic waistband, and I moved them down, slowly baring her buttocks. Once again Julie raised herself to help me in getting them down, and I slid the panties easily to her knees. I paused, then went at it again. I brushed my palms against the warm flesh of her legs as I moved the panties all the way down, then took them off completely.
She was naked now, upended across my lap, not a stitch of clothing on her. I was bare from the waist up only, and I literally itched to get the rest of my clothes off. But I knew if I took the time to do this, it would mean that Julie would have to get up and wait for me to undress completely-and this would effectively destroy the mood of the moment. Julie was ready now, lying quietly across my lap, expectantly awaiting the spanking she had so coyly invited.
I wasn't going to disappoint her.
I placed one hand on the small of her back and raised my other hand and brought it down lightly on her buttocks a couple of times.
Julie giggled.
I did it again, watching the way her buttocks quivered under my open palm.
"You call that a spanking?" Julie said. "Those are just love pats."
I grunted and brought my hand down in a quick, stinging slap.
"Ow!" Julie cried.
"That more like it?" I asked.
She didn't answer me. Instead, she wiggled around on my lap, raising her buttocks slightly. The invitation was obvious.
I raised my hand and brought it down swiftly, spanking her hard. Julie cried out again, and once again she asked for more by lifting her buttocks suggestively.
I spanked her in earnest now-not too hard, but hard enough to make her cry out repeatedly. My hand rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and her buttocks began to redden slightly. Her legs twitched, and she kicked a couple of times. I pressed my hand down into the small of her back, holding her across my lap while I continued to spank her. Julie began to kick harder, and the way her hips were thrashing around filled me with a deep excitement. Her cries became louder, but I didn't stop. She had asked for this, and when I got done with her she was going to know that she had been soundly and thoroughly spanked.
I kept on. ignoring her cries. Finally, she stopped kicking and crying out and lay quietly and submissively under the repeated slaps. I continued to spank her for a few moments longer just to show her who was in command, and then I stopped.
For a moment she was quiet, and I looked down at her reddened buttocks with a feeling of mounting excitement. Then Julie suddenly rolled over until she was lying on her back across my lap. She gazed up at me intently, her eyes glowing, her face flushed.
"You play rough, Phil," she said quietly.
"Any objections?" I asked.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. "You're right, Phil. A spanking is good for a woman every now and then."
"Glad to oblige any time," I said.
She reached down and touched her buttocks gingerly. "I've had enough for tonight, thanks."
I grinned.
Julie got up suddenly and rolled off the couch and ended up on her knees on the floor at my feet. Her fingers fumbled with my shoelaces, and in a few moments she had slipped off my shoes and socks. Then, still kneeling, she reached for my belt, unbuckling it swiftly . and surely. Her hands went to the catch on my trousers, opened it, and then she pulled down the zipper in one quick motion.
She grabbed hold of the cuffs of my trousers and tugged. I raised myself a little, helping her, and she yanked the trousers down my legs and off. Without pausing, she reached out for the waistband of my shorts, curling her fingers Into it, jamming down hard.
"Slow down," I laughed, but there was no stopping her now. She yanked my shorts down, barely giving me time to lift myself so she could get them off-and now both of us were naked.
She was on me like a tigress, clambering up on the couch and forcing me back as she covered my body with hers. My arms went around her, and in the tightly confined space of the couch, we rolled over, our mouths locked, until I was comfortable and she was stretched out on the couch.
There wasn't too much room, but that made it all the more cozy. Julie sighed, and her eager arms went around me, and instantly she started bucking up against me. I grunted and strained and managed to get myself into position, and all the while she kept on moving, thrusting up against me, her body in constant motion. It was evident that she was now in the grip of so powerful a desire that nothing I could say or do would stop her long enough to complete my designs. Maybe it was the spanking that had done the trick, or maybe it was the gradual buildup of passion in her as we kissed and held each other while I caressed her breast and then undressed her across my lap. Whatever it was, it had brought her to the point where she no longer had control of herself.
I let most of my weight rest on her, forcing her to slow down just a little. This gave me the opportunity I wanted. I timed it so that I caught her just as she seemed to start straining against my weight, and I pressed myself down to her, taking her quickly in the instant that she paused before drawing back for another lunge.
Julie cried out sharply, and then a long sigh of delight escaped from her as I moved against her. The force of my attack carried both of us down against the couch, and I was able to concentrate totally and completely on the task of satisfying her.
Our bodies rocked together as she tightened the grip of her arms about me, and she cried out again and again. Her hands clutched at my shoulders, her nails raked me, her fingers beat a tattoo against the back of my body.
I held on tightly and literally moved like a bucking bronco, and all the while her mouth clung to mine and her tongue worked ecstatically in my mouth. She writhed and heaved with me, grinding her body against mine, gripping me feverishly with her arms, moving with wild abandon.
I felt the sweet, hot rise of passion in me, and I let myself go completely, lunging against her with satisfaction. Our bodies clashed together, then separated slightly as we drew back, then came passionately together again. And, at the peak moment, Julie held herself against me while she rubbed her stomach against mine, pressing her softness against me, striving for even greater release while she moaned with gratification.
She was going wild with joy, completely out of control now, driving to a finish with surging abandon. Waves seemed to rise from her body, and when the climactic moment finally came, Julie went suddenly rigid, a hoarse cry tearing from her throat. I felt desire swell to the bursting point in me, and Julie arched herself again against me, her body taut against mine, her legs holding me in a vise-like grip And then, as passion spewed from us, Julie let out a scream and her body convulsed in a spasm of churning movement.
In a matter of seconds it was over-and at that same instant the liquor finally caught up with me, hit me like a sledge hammer blow. My head began to whirl, and I was only dimly aware of Julie moaning softly, her warm body still moving against mine.
I eased myself off. moving quickly and none too surely to lie beside her. Dizziness took sudden hold of me, and I swayed back and forth on my knees, my eyes shut. As though from a great distance, I heard Julie's worried voice ask, "Are you all right?"
I shook my head, and the motion only increased the dizziness. I was conscious of Julie moving about on the couch, felt her soft arms brush against me as she raised her knees and twisted herself free of the bed and to her feet beside the couch.
And then I was falling forward. I landed face down on the couch, one arm dangling limply over the side of the couch.
"What's the matter, PhD?" Julie's muffled voice came.
"Just want ... to ... sleep...." I managed to mutter and then I felt the darkness closing in fast. It would be only a matter of seconds now, I knew.
I was going to pass out.
And then the darkness surrounded me completely, and I knew no more.
CHAPTER TEN
When I woke up, I was in exactly the same position-face down on the couch. A blanket covered me, and I was alone in the living room.
I turned on my side and saw the first signs of a gray and cloudy dawn pressing in at the window. It was going to be a drab day.
I raised my head-and it was as if someone had plunged an icepick into my skull. I groaned and let my head fall back to the couch. After a while. I tried it again. The pain was less severe this time, and I managed to get myself into a sitting position with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I rested like that for a few moments, then slowly got to my feet, clutching the blanket around me.
My head whirled and pain kept stabbing through it. My throat was dry, as dry and parched as if I had just spent a week on the desert. I wrapped the blanket tighter about me and stumbled through the living room and into the kitchen. I found a glass in a cabinet over the sink, turned on the cold water, and drank three glassfuls one after the other.
I left the kitchen, conscious of how cold the floor felt against my bare feet, and went back into the living room. I looked at the couch, then down at the blanket wrapped about me, then glanced at the partly open bedroom door.
I grunted and made up my mind fast.
I walked slowly to the bedroom, paused for a moment, then pushed the door open.
Julie was awake. She was lying on her side facing the door, and in the dimness of the room, I could see her green eyes staring at me.
"Hi," I mumbled, standing in the doorway.
"I heard you moving about out there," Julie said in a low voice.
"Did I wake you up?"
"Yes, but it doesn't matter, Phil. How do you feel?"
"Lousy." I left the doorway and went to the bed.
Julie glanced up at me. "You look cold, all wrapped up in that blanket"
"I am," I said. I let my eyes move over the bed. It was a double bed, plenty of room for two.
Julie read my thoughts. She licked her lips and said, "Would you like to get in here with me and ... and warm up for a while?"
I nodded and started for the other side of the bed.
"Just to get warm, Phil." Julie said quickly. "And to talk a little ... nothing more."
Another stab of pain shot through my head. "I had nothing else in mind," I snapped back at her.
She was silent as I dropped the blanket and crawled into the bed beside her. She turned to face me, and we looked at each other for a long moment, neither one of us saying anything.
Julie licked her lips again. "I ... I didn't mean that to sound the way it did, Phil. I wasn't implying that you ... would try anything with me now. You understand, don't you?"
"Forget it," I said shortly.
"Anyhow," Julie said in a small voice, "it would be! letter if you were to go soon."
"All right," I said. "Just as soon as I warm up and this damn head of mine stops aching a little."
Sympathy showed in her green eyes. "Of course, Phil." She brushed a strand of tousled auburn hair from her cheek. "Is there anything I can do-I mean, anything I can get you?"
I shook my head and winced as blinding pain shot through my skull. It went away in a few moments, and I looked at her closely. Her face was clear of any makeup, her hair mussed from sleep. Warmth from her body seemed to permeate the whole bed. If it weren't for the way my head felt, I knew I'd be right in there pitching.
But not now.
I was in no condition for it.
Julie sighed and turned her head away from me.
Something wasn't quite right here, I thought. Something was troubling her. She had been hesitating a lot while she talked to me, and I had caught glimpses of a worried look in her eyes. I frowned, trying to think it through, and just the effort of drawing my brows together sent another sharp pain through my head. I closed my eyes and groaned.
"I'm sorry you feel bad, Phil," Julie whispered.
"My own fault," I muttered, keeping my eyes closed. "Just drank a little too much yesterday, that's all."
"A lot too much," she corrected.
"All right, all right," I said bitterly. "Don't rub it in." The pain was getting worse now.
"Don't take it out on me, Phil," Julie said with a slight edge to her voice. "You were the one who did all the drinking, not me. You-you had your fun last night. Don't blame me for how you feel this morning."
So that was it! She was troubled about what had happened last night. Just like a woman, I thought, as the pain stabbed through my head again. Has herself a good time at night and then, in the morning, tries to blame the man.
"Who you kidding?" I snapped. "You had as much fun as I did."
"Don't talk like that, Phil!"
"Well, didn't you?"
"I-I guess I got carried away a little."'
"I'll say you did," I answered.
"Phil!"
"Oh, come off it, Julie," I said, and I knew the pain was driving me to say this and that I wouldn't have talked to her this way if my head hadn't felt the way it did. "We're both adults," I went on. "Nothing so terrible or out of the ordinary happened last night."
"It was out of the ordinary-for me," Julie said, her voice trembling.
I snickered. The pain in my head forced the words out of me. "Sure-and now you're going to hand me that old line about not being that kind of girl."
"I'm not!" There was genuine anger in her voice now. "Oh, I'm not as pure as the driven snow, either. But I'm usually not that easy a mark, Phil. In fact, last night-last night was the first time it ... ever happened to me that way. I-I don't know what got into me."
"I do," I said, and the words were out before I could stop them.
I felt her body stiffen next to me. "You'd better go right now," she said coldly.
"It'll be a pleasure," I said, throwing back the covers and getting out of the bed.
In my anger, I had pulled the covers partly off of her, and she yanked them back-but not before I had seen the smooth whiteness of her thighs and the rounded curve of her hips.
"Fine thing," I muttered, standing beside the bed. "First, you invite me into bed with you, then you toss me out. Make up your mind, Julie."
Her voice was even colder now. "I invited you in because I felt sorry for you. You were cold and didn't feel so good, and I thought it'd be nice to let you get warm in the bed for a while and rest a little before you left." Her eyes regarded me icily. "And I wanted a chance to talk to you, too." i
"Well, I'm warm and rested now," I said bitterly. "And we bad our chance to talk."
"Yes ... and I found out just what you think of me, Phil. Please go. Leave right now."
I turned from her and stalked out of the bedroom, trying to make a dignified exit, but knowing that no man can look dignified walking out of a room naked and a little unsteady on his feet.
In the living room, I gathered up my clothes and started to dress. The bedroom door was open, and I could see Julie, the covers pulled up to her neck, watching me coldly and angrily. I wanted to go back into the bedroom and tell her she had me all wrong, that I hadn't really meant what I said, that it was the excruciating pain that had made me talk like that. But I didn't go back to her. It wouldn't have done any good. Julie was hurt too much now to listen to any apologies. She had let herself go last night, really let herself go, and this morning her reaction of doubt and some shame was to be expected. If it hadn't been for my lousy, painful hangover, I would have had sense enough to realize this and to find just the right words to make her feel easier in her mind.
But I hadn't done that-and it was too late now.
I finished dressing and put on my coat. I picked up the copy of her play from the table and turned to the bedroom door. "I'm taking this with me," I said, holding it up so she could see it. "I want to read it again."
She made no answer, and after waiting a moment longer, I tucked the play under my arm and walked out of the apartment without saying another word to her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I reread Julie's play the next day, then put it aside for one more day, then read it a third time. My original opinion remained: it was a good play, a very good play. But it needed work.
I tried to call Julie a couple of times, but there was no answer. Either she was refusing to answer the phone or, what was more likely, had gone away for a few days, preferring to be alone while she straightened out her thoughts and feelings. As for myself, I wasn't at all sure how I felt. The night with Julie had been a good one, lots of fun and excitement. But underlying the sheer physical sensation, there had been an emotional reaction on my part-not that same night, but later on when I was sober and had let my mind go back to that night. I couldn't figure it out, couldn't understand my own feelings about Julie, and I finally made a concerted effort and put it out of my mind for a while.
There was the play to think of, and that had to take paramount importance in my mind.
I remembered Jason's words about hiring people with initiative to go ahead and get the job done without his constant supervision. He had also said he would get in touch with me later. With all this in mind, I decided to go ahead on my own.
I had several copies of the play typed up and added to each copy five pages of my own notes on changes I felt were necessary. I mailed one copy to Jason, along with an explanatory letter telling him what I had done. I mailed a second copy to Julie, and in my letter to her I asked her to get in touch with me as soon as possible so we could work on the play together. A third copy went to Carla-after I had first called her up.
I had not spoken to her since she had told me about Jason's visit with her, and both of us were a little cool over the phone. I did sense an undercurrent of warmth in Carla's voice, as though she wanted everything to be back the way it was. But that couldn't be, not right now, anyhow. I kept the call on a strictly friendly, business-like basis. Carla promised to read the script as soon as it arrived and to let me know if it met with her approval. We said good-bye, promising to keep in touch, and that was it.
After I had hung up the phone, I felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction. It had been good to hear Carla's voice again, and there were times during our friendly and business-like conversation that I wanted to break through our mutual reserve and talk about what really mattered to us. But I hadn't done that. Somehow I couldn't erase the memory of the last time I had spoken to Carla, of what she had told me, of the pictures of her and Jason that had flashed through my mind.
I sent the script to Carla air mail special delivery, and then sat back and waited for things to happen.
I didn't have long to wait.
Two days later a call came from Jason's secretary. Jason wanted me there right away. I told the secretary I was on my way, and hurried over.
I was a little out of breath when I got there, and I realized it was not from any physical exertion, but rather was from tenseness and worry at the prospect of the meeting with Jason. I stopped and deliberately took several deep breaths and paused to light a cigarette before I approached his secretary. I didn't like what was happening to me, this fear of Jason that had taken sudden hold of me. I would not let it happen again, I promised myself.
The secretary smiled politely when I gave my name, buzzed Jason on the intercom, and told me to go right in.
I pushed open the door of his office and was surprised to see the chair behind his desk empty.
"Over here, Phil," a voice called out.
I turned and saw Jason sitting on the big, ornate couch against the wall. Sitting with him was a blonde, who looked up at me with big, baby blue eyes.
"Hello, Jason," I said casually.
He nodded and got right to business, pointedly not bothering to introduce me to the blonde.
"I received the copy of the play," Jason said.
"Uh-huh," I answered. "What'd you think of the changes I suggested?"
He waved his hand airily and then let it drop casually to the blonde's knee. "The changes seem all right, Phil," he said, and he curled his fingers over the blonde's knee. She was small-petite would be the fashionable word-with a magnificent chest and perfectly-formed legs. She was wearing a tight dress, light red in color, and it had ridden up on her thighs so that Jason's hand now rested on the sheer nylon of her stocking. She looked a little flustered as Jason massaged her knee with me looking on. but she made no effort to remove his hand.
"I sent a copy of the script to Carla," I said, trying to keep my eyes from the blonde's legs. She was evidently embarrassed enough as it was with Jason feeling her up in front of me.
"Oh?" Jason said. "Have you heard from Carla yet?"
"Not yet. She'll let me know what she thinks of the play as soon as she reads it."
"That's very important, Phil," Jason said, his hand creeping up the blonde's leg. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but Jason's fingers were already caressing her legs, just above the knee, and she had no choice but to keep her legs that way. "Carla's approval of the script means everything, you know," Jason went on. "Without her, there's no point in producing the play. So, to put it bluntly, Phil, you're job depends on Carla."
I felt my face flush, and the blonde looked at me sympathetically, as though she understood what Jason was doing to me and felt sorry for me. Despite my earlier promise to myself not to be afraid of Jason any more, I felt a sudden chill race through me. It was a strange, mixed-up sensation. My face was hot with anger and embarrassment, while my body was cold with fear of what Jason could do to me. I wanted nothing more right then than to walk over to him and clip him one right in the face. But I knew I couldn't do it. Jason held my future in the palm of his hand, and I had to swallow whatever he dished out.
Jason smiled, his eyes mocking me, and I knew he was reading my thoughts. I stood silently before him, looking down at him, trying to fight down the conflicting anger and fear in me.
"Oh, by the way, Phil," Jason said with the air of a man just remembering something, "this is Iris Langford. Iris, Phil Devlin."
The blonde looked up at me and gave me a quick smile and said, "Hi!"
I nodded and mumbled a conventional "Please to meetcha," and then turned back to Jason.
"Iris is an actress," Jason said.
"Oh?"
Jason chuckled. "Let me amplify that statement a bit, Phil. Iris is at the same stage in her acting career as you are in your career as a director."
"I see," I said, ignoring the needling as best I could.
"I think Iris would be excellent in the role of the younger sister in the play," Jason said calmly.
I looked at Iris quickly, but she avoided my gaze, keeping her eyes on the floor.
"Are you hiring her for the part?" I asked Jason.
"Well, I'd like you to audition her first, PhD," Jason said casually. His meaning was clear. I'd better approve Iris-if I knew what was good for me. Well, I thought, at least he had shown good judgment in picking Julie's play. Maybe the same thing would hold true for Iris.
"Sure," I said. "Be glad to audition her. You want her to read for the part right now?"
Jason waved his hand. "I've already heard her read, Phil. You audition her yourself this afternoon."
I glanced at my watch. It was late in the day, after four o'clock. "I don't think we can get a rehearsal hall this time of day, Jason."
He waved his hand again, dismissing my remark. "Audition her wherever you like," he said. He patted her knee, gave it one final squeeze, and got to his feet. "You go with Phil," he said to Iris. "Now, both of you get out of here. I've got some work to do."
Iris looked at me questioningly, and after a moment's hesitation, I nodded my head and held out my hand and helped her to her feet. When she stood alongside me, she barely reached my shoulder. She was small, all right, but well-stacked. Her breasts jutted out sharply, her hips were beautifully rounded, and her legs were intriguingly curved. No doubt about it, she was quite a dish. She'd give Carla plenty of competition on the stage-if she could act as well as she looked.
I helped her on with her coat, and both of us turned to Jason. He ignored us completely, not even bothering to look up from behind his desk as he read through a pile of papers in front of him.
I shrugged my shoulders, took Iris by the arm, and we left the office.
We didn't talk at all until we were out on the sidewalk, then Iris looked up at me and said, "He's a pretty busy man, isn't he?"
I grunted.
"I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience for you to audition me," she said in a small voice.
"It's all right," I said. "I've got plenty of time right now."
"It's nice of you to say that, Mr. Devlin."
"Call me Phil."
"All right ... Phil."
"How about stopping for a drink, Iris?" I said suddenly. I needed a chance to think things over and decide what to do about the audition, and I was in no mood to stand out in the cold on the sidewalk while I thought.
"A drink?" She thought it over for a moment, then nodded her head. "All right. It'll give us a chance to talk, too."
I stepped off the curb and hailed a passing taxi. I gave the driver the address of a small cocktail lounge on the East Side, then settled back on the seat and took a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I offered Iris one, and she shook her head quickly. "Thanks, Phil," she said with a brief smile, "but I don't smoke."
I shrugged and lit a cigarette for myself and looked at her as I exhaled a cloud of smoke.
She was staring out the window as the taxi made its way downtown. I got the feeling that she was doing this deliberately, giving me a chance to look her over without the awkwardness of meeting her eyes. She had a cute face-dp-tilted nose, big blue eyes, nicely arched eyebrows, a full mouth, and short, curly blonde hair. Her body, as I had seen in Jason's office, was a knockout. All in all, not too bad, I decided. If only she could act.
Iris turned from the window and gave me a tentative smile. I smiled back, but said nothing. We rode in silence the rest of the way.
Inside the cocktail lounge, I ordered drinks for both of us, lit another cigarette, and said, "Tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know, Phil?"
"Your acting experience, your-"
"Just summer stock," she interrupted.
"How much of it?"
She shrugged lightly. "One season in Maine. It was ... a bit part."
I drew deeply on my cigarette and thought over what she had said. Her professional acting experience was sadly lacking, but there was still a chance. I'd be able to tell after she auditioned for me whether or not she could handle the part. If she could, that would be fine. If she couldn't I left the thought unfinished. The most I could do would be to tell Jason that Iris was not suitable. After that, the decision would be up to him.
Jason had the final say. He had the money. He controlled everything. I couldn't go against him.
"Well," I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "well talk more about your acting after the audition."
Iris nodded understandingly. Then she glanced up at me with an odd look in her blue eyes. "Where do you plan to hold the audition, Phil?" she asked in a very low voice.
I scratched at my chin. "I don't know," I admitted.
"We need a copy of the play," she said.
I hadn't though of that, I realized. Jason had a copy, but it wouldn't do to go back to his office for it. I could just picture our reception. He probably would refuse to see us. claiming he was busy. And then, even if he did see us, he would have a field day with me, making sarcastic remarks about what a lousy director I was not to think of needing a copy of the play before conducting an audition. Moreover, he had only one copy. It was likely that he would refuse to let me borrow it, perhaps claiming that he wanted to study it himself. It would be embarrassing, humiliating, and most likely completely futile to go back to Jason.
That left only one alternative.
The remaining copy of the play were in my apartment.
I cleared my throat and glanced at Iris. She was still regarding me with that odd look in her eyes.
"The only available copy of the play is in my apartment," I said.
Her eyes remained on me for a moment, then she glanced down at the table. When she looked up again, her face was impassive, emotionless.
"You'll audition me in your apartment?" she asked tonelessly. It was more a statement than it was a question.
"I can't think of any other place that's available right now," I said.
She looked away from me, and I felt a sudden spurt of anger. Hell, what did she think I had in mind? Did she think this was the old casting-couch approach? Many auditions were held in private apartments, or in offices or spare rooms. In any event, it wasn't at all unusual. Of course, most of the time several people would be present-the director, producer, writer-in addition to the person being auditioned. It just hadn't turned out that way in this case. I thought for a moment of stopping at my apartment, picking up a copy of the play, then going on to Julie's place and holding the audition there. But that would mean trying to call Julie again, and I'd had no luck with that so far. Besides, I wasn't too sure that Julie would even talk to me over the phone now, and I wasn't going to go through that embarrassment in front of Iris.
"We can hold the audition some other time if you'd rather," I said.
"Oh, no!" Iris answered quickly. "It's-it's perfectly all right."
"If you'd prefer to audition at your apartment.. I suggested.
"No. Your place will do just fine, Phil." She gave me a weak smile. "I've only got a furnished room that I share with another girl."
"Suit yourself," I said, and I finished my drink. "Care for another?"
"Yes, thanks." She said it quickly, gratefully, as though she felt a pressing need for another drink.
I ordered the drinks, and both of us were silent while we waited for them. Iris seemed to be lost in thought; her face was solemn and somewhat strained. Then, just after the drinks arrived, she apparently reached some kind of decision. She raised her glass, smiled broadly at me, and said, "Here's to ... to a successful audition, Phil."
"Let's hope so," I responded, and I clinked glasses with her.
We drank, set the glasses down-and then Iris started talking. It was all small talk, cheerful babbling about how anxious she was to succeed in the theater, how much she liked New York, how cold the weather was lately, what a nice cocktail lounge this was, did I come here often-all of this in a rushed, breathless voice. I made a few comments now and then, but took no active part in the conversation. It was evident that she was trying to be bright and cheerful and charming to me, and I sensed immediately that this had a lot to do with the coming audition. Perhaps she had already made up her mind that this was really the old casting-couch approach on my part, and had decided to give in. I wondered for a moment if I looked to her like a director who would do such a thing, but then dropped the thought. It didn't matter what impression she had of me. My intentions were to audition her-and that was all.
At least, that was what my intentions were at the moment.
As the afternoon wore on, we had a few more drinks. Iris kept on talking, and I kept on making polite comments now and then. She laughed heartily when I said something that was supposed to be funny, and she looked appropriately solemn and interested when I said something that was supposed to be profound. She was a good listener as well as a good talker.
But the question was-was she a good actress?
I'd find that out soon, I knew. I'd also find out just how far she was willing to go to get the part. Not that I intended making a pass at her, although I was now beginning to toy with the idea. It was just that, if she had decided to give in, she would more than likely invite a pass. If and when that happened, I wasn't too sure how I'd react. I'd had a few drinks by now, and while I wasn't drunk and certainly was not going to get drunk, I did feel a lot looser.
And I began to think, too.
I thought of Jason and the way he was taking such delight in rubbing my nose in the dirt. I thought of Carla and what she had done with Jason. I thought of Julie and how it had been in bed with her and what had happened the next morning. I thought of all of them and how my life was tied up with them and of how my life was now being twisted because of my relationship with each of them. I felt thwarted, surrounded, put upon, and I even felt a little sorry for myself. I had staked everything on this course of action, on using Jason and the chance he represented for me to direct a play. Everything depended on that.
Everything.
Iris had quieted down a little now, and I looked at her and said, "Well, I guess we'd better get started with your audition now."
She bit her lip, looked at me for a moment, then smiled. "Sure. Anything you say, Phil."
I called the waiter over, paid the check, and Iris and I left the cocktail lounge. It was dark out now, dark and wintry, the kind of an evening to be nice and snug and warm indoors.
"You want something to eat?" I asked Iris.
"I'm not very hungry right now, Phil. Are you?"
"Na Maybe we can fix some sandwiches and coffee at my place later."
Iris smiled. "That sounds fine, Phil."
She was very agreeable to all my suggestions now, I noticed. Merely by offering her sandwiches and coffee, I had changed what was originally strictly an audition into a social occasion Iris was evidently prepared to be as sociable as she had to.
I grunted and hailed a taxi and gave the driver my address. I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes while the taxi pulled out into traffic, and I was grateful for the fact that Iris had finally stopped talking.
I wanted to think.
I had a lot to think about.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Iris was a lousy actor.
That much was evident one minute after she started reading for me.
We were in the living room of my apartment, and I was seated in the big armchair, a freshly mixed drink in my hands, while Iris stood in the center of the room and read from the script. I had chosen a medium length scene for her to do, and I had an open copy of the script in my lap so I could follow her and cue her with the appropriate lines. She was pretty bad.
She tried hard, but there was no doubt at all that she just couldn't handle it. I've heard actors mumble through a part on the first read-through, and you wouldn't think they had a bit of talent. But that was on the read-through, after they had already been selected for the part and were first getting familiar with the script. In an audition, though, an actor or actress tries for clarity, emotion, and proper interpretation of a scene Iris was trying, all right, but she just wasn't coming through.
I tried to keep my face impassive as I listened to her and watched her struggle with the reading. A couple of times I almost winced, but I kept myself under control. Iris glanced up at me now and then, and I could see that she was troubled. It was clear that she knew she was doing badly. By the time she finished. I had gulped down my drink and was sitting staring into the empty glass.
Iris put the script down on the coffee table, looked at me hesitantly, and asked, "How'd I do?"
I cleared my throat noisily, trying to find the right words, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that she had already read the answer in my face.
"Well...." I began.
"Wait a minute, Phil," she said quickly, and there was a desperate note in her voice. She picked up the script and flipped through it, talking rapidly as she leafed through the pages. "I'd like to show you a little more of what I can do-if it's all right with you. Yes, here it is." She folded back the script. "In the third act, the younger sister does a sort of dance all by herself in her room. I remember that scene when Jason let me look over the play before reading for him. Do you know the scene I mean?"
I nodded and waited for her to go on.
She dropped the script back on the table, her face pale except for two bright spots of color in her cheeks. She was making a last-ditch try now.
"Well, I've done a little dancing, Phil, and what I'd like to do for you now is sort of improvise this scene. I was pretty good at improvisation at acting school, and I think it'll give you a better picture of ... of what I can do. Okay,"
"Sure, go ahead," I said quickly, wishing she hadn't asked me that because it would only prolong things, but knowing that I couldn't very well refuse her. She was trying very, very hard now, and while I was anxious to get it over with, the least I could do was to let her complete the audition as she wanted to.
For a moment, I had forgotten my hunch about the probability of her inviting me to make a pass at her.
I was reminded of it very forcibly in the next few minutes.
"Do you have a record player?" Iris asked. "Over there," I said, nodding with my head at the far wall.
"Will you put on a record for me, Phil. Something with a strong beat." She smiled self-consciously. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to go into the other room for a moment and ... well, get myself into the mood. That's what you have to do when you improvise, you know."
"Sure," I said. I put down the empty glass, set my copy of the script on the table next to hers, and got to my feet.
Iris went to the bedroom and paused in the door.
"I'll let you know when I'm ready, then you put on the record. Okay."
I nodded, and she went into the bedroom, closing the door halfway. I selected a record, put it on the player, turned on the set so it would warm up, and then mixed myself another drink while I waited for the go ahead from her.
I had time for two long swallows of my drink before Iris finally called out, "All right, Phil. I'm ready now."
I pressed the start button on the record player and, drink in hand, walked across the room to the armchair. Behind me the automatic player clicked, the record dropped to the turntable, the tone arm swung across and down, and music flooded the room as I plunked myself down in the chair. It was music with a strong, rhythmic beat, just as Iris had requested. I glanced at the partly closed bedroom door and wondered why it had taken her so long to get ready.
I found out a second later.
The door opened, and Iris stepped out. I almost dropped my drink. I half-rose from my chair, my eyes straining in their sockets as they took in everything in a series of swift glances.
Iris was barefoot.
She was also bare-legged.
And bare-chested, too.
In fact, her sole adornment was a pair of sneer white panties.
She stood poised in the bedroom doorway as I slowly sank back in the chair. This was a little more than I had bargained for, but it was all right with me. My eyes took another swift inventory of Iris's charms. Her tiny waist seemed even smaller when contrasted with her full breasts and generously-rounded hips. Her flesh was creamy white, except for the pink mounds surrounding the rosy nipples of her breasts. The sheer white panties hid nothing. They were as transparent as any material could be.
I raised my glass to my lips and held it there, gulping down the liquor, as Iris went into her dance. Her dancing was better than her acting. Much better.
She planted her feet firmly on the floor, her legs spread wide, her arms held out. She looked for all the world like someone about to star a series of calisthenic exercises.
What she did next was not exactly calisthenics.
It started in her shoulders, just the slightest of shaking movements. Her breasts began to move along with her shoulders, just a slight movement at first, no more than a gentle swaying back and forth of her uptilted nipples.
I finished my drink fast and set the glass down on the small table next to the chair.
The shaking movement now spread to Iris's arms, and the sway of her breasts was more pronounced. And all the while she was keeping in perfect time with the music. I was suddenly very glad that I had selected a long-playing record.
Iris's hips began to go into action now, and she was still keeping time with the music. My eyes darted up and down from her breasts to her hips, not knowing where to look first. Her full, beautifully-shaped breasts were swaying back and forth excitingly now, making my throat go suddenly dry. I wanted another drink badly, but I wasn't going to take my eyes off her for even the few moments it would take to mix the drink.
The shaking motion spread to her entire body, and the smooth flesh of her firm legs rippled and moved. So far, Iris had remained in one spot across the room from me. Now still keeping her arms outstretched, and still moving her shoulders and arms and hips in time to the music, she began to inch her way across the room to where I sat in the chair. Her legs were still apart, although not as wide as before, and she moved toward me slowly, step by step, coming at me straddle-legged with every part of her in motion.
When she was about three feet away from me, she stopped moving forward, and now she began to add a small jiggle to her movements. Her breasts bounced rhythmically, and she was so close to me now I could have reached out and grabbed her-which is exactly what I wanted to do. But I kept myself under control. I had a hunch those sheer panties would come off before the dance was over, and I sensed also that she had a few more delights in store for me in her dance.
I was right. The jiggling, bouncing, shaking movement of her body now gave way to a rolling, thrusting motion of her hips. The music from the record player grew louder, with sharp, snapping drumbeats. Iris smiled and began to move her hips in time to the drum beats, and I soon saw that she was building up to some very effective bumps and grinds. She had perfect control of her body, moving in exact rhythm with the music. Her hips drew back and snapped forward in a series of spectacular bumps aimed right at me, and I licked my lips and grinned.
I've seen my share of burlesque shows and stag shows, but what Iris was doing now outstripped everything I had ever seen before. She ground her hips in a slow, insinuating circle, and then, as the music built up to a crescendo, she reared back, her legs spread and bent slightly at the knees, and suddenly snapped forward. Her breasts heaved and bounced, her thighs rippled, her torso twisted in an ecstasy of movement-and deep down inside me, I felt myself beginning to react. Hunger for her filled me, building up in me rapidly, making the palms of my hands literally itch to touch her.
Iris, with that inborn sense of timing that women have in such situations, immediately sensed that she had gotten through to me. A triumphant smile flitted quickly and briefly across her lips. She had me now, and she knew it. But she held back, continuing to dance before me, continuing to excite me, making doubly sure that my desire would not fade.
She turned gracefully, whirling around with the music, presenting her back to me. She placed her legs together, her hips swaying in time to the music, and she bent over slowly, giving me a delightful view of her rounded buttocks through the sheer panties. She bent over still further, keeping her hips swaying, and when she was fully bent over, her hands came back and her fingers slipped inside the waistband of her panties.
The beat of the music picked up a little, but while Iris's hips kept time with the beat, her hands nevertheless moved slowly. It was a fascinating sight to watch as she remained bent over and slowly pulled down her panties, keeping her hips moving in time to the pounding rhythm of the music.
Her buttocks were bare now, the panties down around her knees. She bent at the knees, the mounds of her buttocks curving tautly, and she slipped the panties down to her ankles, stepping out of them gracefully and easily.
She straightened up, keeping her back to me, and once again struck a pose and stretched out her arms. The record would soon be drawing to a close, I knew, but there was still time for more of Iris's dancing. She began the shaking routine again, giving me a back view this time, and now there were no panties to cover her middle. Not matter how revealing her panties had been, the dance was much more effective now that she was completely naked from head to toe.
Her buttocks quivered and shook as Iris went into her routine. She, too, must have known that the record would end soon because she speeded everything up. She gave me a few seconds of shaking, then launched into the grinds, then began bumping. It was a delight to watch from the rear. Her buttocks would pull back toward me, then she tensed, and then her buttocks snapped forward several times as she bumped away.
She turned around quickly, and I got a full front view. Her hips were in violent motion now, her breasts heaving up and down as she continued with the bumps, making each one more forceful than the last. The music was swelling to a final crescendo of savage beats, and Iris's bumps and grinds came in quick, pounding succession.
The music rose to a squealing finish, capped by one final drumbeat, and Iris's hips thrust forward in a last, eye-filling bump that made me draw back in awe.
The record finished, and there was silence in the room, broken only by Iris's heavy breathing and the click of the record player shutting itself off. Iris looked down at me for a few seconds, and then, in one swift movement, plunked herself down on my lap and threw her arms around my neck.
My reaction was instinctive. I'm a normal human male, and when a naked blonde puts on a dancing exhibition, such as Iris had, and then dumps herself down in my lap, I don't stop to reason things out. I just react.
My hands went around her bare waist, and her seeking mouth crushed down on mine. Her tongue went to work instantly, pushing its way past my lips and teeth and right into my mouth. Her body was hot and pulsing under my hands, and I was suddenly and very acutely conscious of the fact that I was fully clothed. All I could think of was that I wanted to get out of my clothes in a hurry. I didn't think of the audition and Iris's poor acting. I didn't think of Carla, or of Julie. I thought only of the feel of Iris on my lap and the softness of her flesh as I held her.
Iris mouth was working against mine, her tongue pushing and probing hotly against my mouth, her soft buttocks squirming into my lap. I let my hands slide to her hips, then dropped one hand to her leg. Instantly, and without breaking the kiss, Iris moved her knees, and my hand dropped between them. I stroked the inside of her leg, my fingers brushing the silken warmth of her flesh, and desire surged up in me like a white hot flame burning away at my insides.
Iris suddenly tore herself away from my grasp, pulling her mouth from mine, and getting to her feet quickly. She took hold of my hand and pulled. I came up out of the chair fast, ready for anything.
"Hurry!" she said hoarsely. "Take your clothes off! Hurry!"
I hurried. The urgency in her voice caught at me and excited me and made me forget everything but the desire to hold that naked body pressed to my bare flesh.
I tore at my clothing, almost ripping my shirt as I took it off. I broke a shoelace and cursed as I fumbled with it.
"Hurry!" Iris said again, and she turned from me and went back to the record player. As I shed the rest of my clothes, she put the record back on again and started the player. The music burst into the room just as I yanked off my shorts and finally stood as naked as she.
Iris turned and came to me as I stood waiting for her with my back to the chair. She pushed herself right up against me, her nipples pressing close against my bare chest.
And then she started dancing again.
She stretched high, but instead of stretching out her arms, placed them around my neck. I stood firm, not backing up one step. Iris started shaking, just as she had before-only this time she was shaking against me. I put my hands on her hips, felt their agitated movement, and pulled her even closer to me.
She didn't stop moving.
Her hips rolled and shook, her stomach pressed into mine, rubbing, grinding, flesh against flesh, her warmth flowing into me and spreading throughout my body. Her breasts heaved and surged against my chest, the nipples sliding back and forth over my skin.
Iris kept her arms about my neck, her mouth open as she looked up at me and ground her body against me. I bent my head down, and her eager lips sucked hungrily at my mouth, her tongue drawing mine out after it and into her mouth. , The music pounded away at my eardrums, and Iris pounded away at my body with hers, and all of it-Iris, me, the music-seemed to blend into one churning, rolling grinding mass of sheer sensation.
And then Iris began the bumps.
Amazingly enough, she kept in perfect time to the music, her mouth clinging to mine, her hips thrusting back and forth as she bumped against me over and over again. It was wild, it was crazy, it was out of this world.
There seemed to be no stopping her. Desire became a thing of painful joy in me, and my body began to move with hers. I let my hands drop to her buttocks and squeezed hard, pulling her tightly with every move, releasing her only to allow her to draw her hips back for another lunge at me.
We stopped kissing long enough to suck air into our lungs, and then our mouths crushed together again and not once did Iris stop moving against me.
I was ready to take her now, and my mind raced ahead to the bedroom. I tried to pull away from her and lead her there.
But Iris had other ideas.
She moved so fast I had no idea what she was doing. Next thing I knew she had spun both of us around completely and now had her back to me while she faced the armchair. My arms automatically went around hex, and I pulled her to me. Her writhing buttocks came back against my middle, and she continued the dance, still somehow keeping in time with the music. We were front to back now, her gorgeous body nestled against me, her buttocks moving furiously.
My breathing was heavy and rapid now. We had switched positions without Iris once losing a beat of the music, without slowing down for a second-and passion continued to build up in me without a letdown.
I moved my hands up her body until they cupped her breasts from behind, and I began to move against her, pushing my middle into her soft buttocks, then withdrawing, then coming forward again. Iris squealed with delight, and her hips moved violently as she moved herself back against me and pressed her buttocks to me.
Then, moving so gradually at first that I wasn't aware of what she was doing, she began to bend over. Her back arched, and her breasts pressed into my palms as she slowly doubled over, keeping her hips in constant motion.
I suddenly became aware of the silence of the record player, and I knew that the record had finished and the player had automatically shut itself off. But Iris had not once stopped moving. She was now moving in a different rhythm, a rhythm of passion and desire that was older and more meaningful than any music.
And she continued to bend over until finally I let go of her breasts. Evidently, that was what she had been waiting for. She stumbled forward, her body moving away from mine for the first time, her arms stretched out in front of her as she fell toward the chair.
Only she wasn't really falling.
She had a definite purpose in mind.
Her hands touched the seat of the armchair, and she let her whole body move forward, up onto the seat cushion. It was a big, wide chair, and she fitted into it nicely. She bent over, slid her hands along the cushion, and settled herself on the chair on her hands and knees. While I watched her in wonder and in rising excitement, she positioned herself on the chair so that her head and shoulders were resting on the back edge of the cushion, her knees on the front edge, her buttocks high in the air.
Then she wriggled her buttocks suggestively, and I needed no further invitation.
I stepped up to her, placed both hands on her upraised buttocks and gently moved her into position as I came up to her. She moved herself until her knees were braced against the arms of the chair on either side.
Guiding her buttocks with my hands, I pressed myself to her, and took her quickly that way with one slow motion.
A long sigh came from Iris. We worked slowly at first. Now that we were finally together, there was no need for the wild, churning movements that had preceded our union. Now we both wanted to slow down and take our time. It was better that way. It would make everything last that much longer.
We fell into a natural, rhythmic movement, and her buttocks rolled softly as she circled her hips. I pressed myself closer to her and thrust tentatively. Instantly, she moved just a little faster. I responded with another movement, and then another.
We kept going like that for several moments, not forcing anything, moving easily and rhythmically. Iris moaned softly a couple of times, and I felt desire beginning to build quickly in me.
I increased the speed of my movements slightly, and Iris also moved a little faster. I kept a tight grip on her buttocks, my fingers digging into her flesh, guiding her as she moved.
We were building up speed now, and Iris gasped as I moved suddenly. I moved forward again, and this brought another gasp from her.
And then, suddenly, both of us were moving with complete abandon. Her buttocks writhed and twisted against me, and I moved to her repeatedly, lifdng her knees from the chair each time, forcing myself closer and closer to the all consuming passion of her body. I moved against her over and over again, losing all sense of rhythm, feeling only the driving pleasure of the powerful desire that gripped me.
Iris whimpered and moaned and threw her entire body into the effort. Her buttocks heaved up against me, her hips twisted and rolled as she gyrated herself, arching her back, digging into the cushion with her knees, moving back and forth and up and down in a frenzy of heated motion.
I clung to her and let my hands move from her buttocks to her breasts, gripping them as they swayed above the cushion, curling my fingers around the mounds of her breasts from behind and underneath. .
A cry of pure pleasure came from Iris as our passion mounted rapidly to the bursting point, and we finished in a blinding, explosive climax that tied every muscle in my body into knots.
After it was over, I remained close to her for several moments while both of us slowly relaxed and caught our breaths. Then I stepped back and moved away from her. Iris remained as she was for a while longer, kneeling on the chair, her buttocks upraised, and finally she rolled off the chair and knelt on the floor She looked up at me and smiled slowly, and I smiled down at her in return and then helped her to her feet.
She came into my arms and kissed me warmly on the lips and whispered, "That was fun, Phil, wasn't it?"
"Uh-huh," I answered.
She kissed me again. "You want me to stay tonight?" she asked in a husky voice.
Suddenly, the magic was gone from the moment. Everything came back to me with a rush-the audition, the fact that I now had to tell Jason how poorly she had done. I couldn't take advantage of her for the whole night. What had just happened was over and done with. She had offered herself to me in such a way that I hadn't been able to refuse-not after the way she had aroused me with that naked dance of hers. But this was different. If I accepted her offer to stay the night, I'd only be compounding the wrong I had already done her.
"I'd like you to stay," I said, mustering all the false sincerity I could. "But I've got to get to work on the play tonight." I smiled ruefully. "Business before pleasure, you know "
She nodded her head understanding. "Guess I'd better get dressed and leave you to your work, then," she said.
"Guess so," I answered.
She smiled, kissed me again, then picked up her panties from the floor and went mto the bedroom to dress.
I gathered up my own clothes and dressed quickly, trying not to think of what I had done and what I was about to do to her. I'd have to tell Jason the truth about Iris's acting ability. After that, it would be up to him. He could give her the part of the younger sister in the play, or he could tell her she wasn't suited for the part. I knew that, unless Jason was firm in his decision to hire her, I'd put up a fight to keep her out of the play. It was the only course I could take to maintain my integrity as director of the play.
Integrity.
If I had any, I thought, I'd tell Iris right now what the score was as far as her acting was concerned. But I didn't have the heart to do it. I couldn't hurt her that much-not after she had given herself to me in the hopes of getting the part. I'd let Jason make the final decision, and I'd let him do the dirty work of telling her-if he went along with my advice.
Iris came out of the bedroom fully dressed. I helped her on with her coat, thankful that she seemed to have forgotten my earlier invitation to have a sandwich and coffee with me. I don't think I could have gone through with it, knowing what I did and thinking the way I was thinking at the moment.
Iris turned to me after I had helped her on with her coat and slipped a piece of paper into my shirt pocket. "That's my phone number, Phil. You call me whenever you want me, you hear?"
I nodded.
"I mean that, Phil," she said in a low voice. "Any time you want me."
I nodded again.
"When will you decide about the audition?" she asked hesitantly.
"I'll talk it over with Jason soon," I promised.
She smiled and kissed me quickly and lightly on the lips.
I walked with her to the door and opened it for her. She paused in the doorway and looked at me. her face solemn. "I want that part, Phil," she whispered. "I want it badly."
She looked at me for a long moment, then turned and left the apartment.
I closed the door and stood with my hand on the knob for a long while. Then I moved away from the door and lit a cigarette. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I quickly turned away.
I couldn't stand the sight of myself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next day, my phone got a real workout.
The first call was from Carla, and it came in the middle of the morning. "Hi, Phil," she said when I answered the phone. "Hope I didn't wake you up."
"You didn't," I said. "How are you, Carla?" Something in her tone of voice had sounded a warning note in the back of my mind. She was not calling me with good news.
"I read the play, Phil," Carla said quickly, not bothering with the usual amenities of answering my question about how she was and then asking me how I was. She was getting right to the point.
"What'd you think of it?" I asked.
She didn't even pause. "No good, Phil."
"No good?" My stomach twisted suddenly. "I thought it was a damn good play, Carla."
"Oh, I didn't mean the play was bad," she said hastily. "It had definite possibilities. I mean it was no good for me. I just can't see myself in the part. Phil."
I waited a long moment before answering. "Not for you, huh?"
"I'm sorry, Phil."
"What's there to be sorry about?" T said sarcastically. "All you've done is cost me my job as director of the play."
"Phil! Please ... please don't say that"
"It's the truth, Carla."
"I don't understand you, Phil. What's happened to you? Why are you acting this way?"
"Forget it," I said abruptly.
"No ... I won't forget it. What's gotten into you? When we started this whole business-when I agreed to help you with your scheme and string Jason along there was no question then about my taking the part. Don't you remember, Phil? All you wanted me to do then was to play up to Jason and let him think that I wanted you as the director of the play. You said you'd take it from there. I've done all I can, Phil. I've gone about as far as I can go to help you with your scheme."
She was right, I realized. Our original agreement had not included the possibility that she would do a play for Jason. All I had wanted was enough time to work on Jason and get a contract out of him, and that was where Carla was to come in. She had agreed to string Jason along to give me the extra time I needed. Now, however, I had gotten so wrapped up in my own plans for the future that I had conveniently forgotten our original scheme. Maybe I had not really forgotten it, I thought suddenly. Maybe I had just subconsciously forced it to the back of my mind in the desperate hope that somehow, some way, Carla would be able to do the play.
I had been brought back to earth with a bang now, and the apparent hopelessness of the whole thing hit me so hard that I couldn't think straight.
"Phil?" Carla's worried voice came. "Are you still there?"
"Yes," I said.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes-just thinking."
"I'm sorry, Phil. I wish there was more I could do for you."
Suddenly, my mind cleared. "There is," I said abruptly.
"Tell me what I can do, Phil."
"String Jason along just a little while more."
"How can I do that?"
"You'll have to call him yourself," I said, talking fast. "He won't believe me if I tell it to him myself."
"What do you want me to say to him, Phil?"
"Tell him you like the play but you're undecided. Tell him I've been talking to you on the phone and trying to convince you to do the play. Tell him you'll probably take my advice but that you want some time to think it over and to talk to me some more about it. You know, sort of imply that I'm the only one who can get you to do the play and that you value my advice highly and that your confidence in me as a director is unbounded and-well you know what I mean."
"Yes, Phil. I know."
"Will you do it, Carla?"
The line was silent for a long while. Then she said simply, "Yes, Phil, I'll do it."
I broke into a grin. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Carla."
"I'll call him this morning," she said.
"You do that, Carla, and that should give me all the leverage I need."
"I hope so," she answered. "I really hope so, Phil. You know, I honestly would like to do a legitimate play. It's something I think I could really put my heart into. I-I'm getting a little tired of Hollywood, Phil. Too much phony glamour and all that sort of thing."
"I know how you feel," I said. "Hollywood has lots of money but not much else to offer. How are things going with you now?"
There was a long pause. "Only fair, Phil. I'm having a bit of trouble."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Nothing I can't handle-I think."
"Care to talk about it?" I asked. "Might help, you know."
I could hear her draw in a deep breath. "Well, this may sound funny to you, but it's not. I've got man trouble."
"Man trouble?"
"Yes. You won't find it in the gossip columns not yet, anyhow-but you remember the producer I'm going around with?"
"I remember him ... and the director, too."
"Well, the producer is getting suspicious. He's a little harder to handle than I figured."
I held back a chuckle. As Carla had said, it sounded funny-but it was a very serious matter to her.
"Anything I can do to help?" I asked.
"Just sympathize with me, Phil. It's something I'll have to work out by myself."
I sighed. "You have to expect something like this when you play the angles like you do, Carla. I'm not trying to criticize you," I added hastily. "You just have to look at these things realistically. At least that's what I've found out myself lately."
"Guess you're right," she answered.
"You'll work it out," I said encouragingly. "Just don't give up."
"I won't, Phil. And thanks for letting me tell you about it. It really helped." She paused. "There's no one out here I can trust enough to tell something like this. You're the only one." She paused again, a little longer this time, then said, "I miss you, Phil. I wish you were here-or that I was there with you."
"When are you planning to come in again?" I asked.
"I don't know. Things are a little hectic with my studio right now."
"Well, you try and get away as soon as you can, will you?"
"You know I will, Phil."
We talked for a few minutes more, and T sensed that Carla was reluctant to hang up, but we soon ran out of things to say to each other. I tried my best to cheer her up, and she once again promised to call Jason and feed him the pitch we had agreed upon. We said good-bye, and I sat for a long while by the phone, thinking things over.
Carla wasn't going to do the play, that much was certain. But I knew she'd keep her word and call Jason, and if he fell for what she told him, then this would give me a little more time in which to land that contract with Jason. The contract was important. It would help me hang on to my job for a little longer at least, and it would serve as a selling point when I finally had to go elsewhere for work as a director.
It all depended on Carla now.
I thought about what she had told me of her troubles with the director and the producer. I didn't like the sound of it. Things could really get rough for Carla if she didn't watch her step.
The phone rang, breaking into my thoughts.
I picked it up and said, "Hello?"
"Hello, Phil," came a low, husky woman's voice.
"Hi, Julie," I said. "I was hoping you'd call soon."
"How've you been, Phil?"
"All right. And yourself?"
"I've-been away for a while."
"I know. I tried to reach you."
"I needed some time to think, Phil."
"Everything okay now?" I asked.
"I guess so."
"Sorry about what happened that morning, Julie," I said quickly, anxious to get my apology over with. "I had the king of all hangovers. It made me say things I really didn't mean."
"Let's forget about it, Phil. I-I'm not mad at you any more. I guess I said some mean things, too."
"We're friends again?" I asked.
"Friends," she repeated.
I smiled to myself. "That's fine, Julie. Did you get the copy of the play?"
"Yes. I read your suggestions very carefully."
"And?"
"I agree with almost all of them, Phil."
"Well," I said cheerfully, "that gets us off to a good start."
I chuckled. "You wouldn't be a real playwright if you didn't. Don't worry about it, Julie. We'll work on the play together and iron everything out."
"I'm ready for work whenever you are, Phil."
"How about this afternoon?"
"That'll be fine," Julie said. "Come on over whenever you're ready-unless you'd rather work somewhere else."
"No, your place will do fine," I said. "I'll be waiting for you, Phil. 'Bye."
"'Bye, Julie."
I hung up the phone and got up and paced around the living room. Things looked a little brighter now that Julie and I had made up our differences. Working on the play was not going to be easy. There was plenty to be done, and there was no guarantee that our revision would be successful. But at least we did have a basically good play to work with.
I lit a cigarette and sat down with a copy of the play and started to read it through again, refreshing my memory of it and the changes I'd suggested.
My third phone call was from Jason.
"I've just spoken to Carla," he said after we had said hello.
"Oh?" I answered, not committing myself one way or the other.
"I gather she already spoke to you about the play," Jason said.
"Yes, she did."
"What'd she tell you?" Jason asked.
I smiled to myself. Jason was playing it cagey, lying to catch me in some sort of lie.
"Well," I said, "Carla's a little undecided about the play right now, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
"You're not me," he said dryly. "You think she'll eventually do the play?"
"I'm very optimistic about that, Jason. This sort of hesitation is not at all unusual on the part of an actress. You see, actors and actresses who are good at their profession-as Carla is-are not necessarily also good as judges of a play's merits. Carla realizes this, and so naturally is not too sure of herself right now."
"I see," Jason said.
"But," I continued, "I'm sure her doubts will all be resolved after I talk to her some more. You know, Jason," I said expansively, "you can't rush an actress like Carla. She has a lot at stake in her career with this play, and so you can expect a snap decision from her."
"A lot is at stake for many people-especially you," Jason said in a flat voice.
"I'll be talking to Carla again soon," I promised him.
His only answer was a brief grunt. "Uh, Jason," I said, "while I have yo'i on the phone, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"It's about Iris."
There was a brief silence, and then he chuckled. "Did you ... audition her, Phil?"
"Yes. She's not a very good actress, Jason."
He chuckled again, and for a moment I couldn't figure it out. Then a growing suspicion began to take hold of me.
"I couldn't recommend that you hire her for the part, Jason," I said firmly, hoping for Iris's sake that my suspicion was unfounded.
It wasn't-as Jason made clear with his next words.
"I never had any intention of hiring her, Phil."
"You didn't?"
"No. I presented her to you as an incentive, a sort of preview of what I could do for you if you continue to work for me."
"I don't understand, Jason," I said. I understood damn well what he meant, but I wanted to hear him put it into words himself.
Once again he chuckled. "It's quite simple, Phil. Little Iris is quite willing to do anything she has to in order to land a part in a play. I found that out for myself, and I told her that if she made a good impression on you, there was a strong chance she'd get the part."
"I see," I said.
"I gather she did try to make an impression on you, huh, Phil?"
"So you're not going to hire her?" I asked, ignoring his question.
"Not at all, Phil."
"Will you tell her that, Jason?"
"Why, certainly, Phil." His voice was oily smooth. "I wouldn't think of asking you to do that. It's a little pleasure that I've reserved for myself. However," he continued in that same smooth voice, "I'm not going to tell her right now-and I don't want you to say anything either, Phil. I figure she's still good for a few more sessions, and I don't want anything to spoil that. You see what I mean?"
"Yes," I said, grating the word out between my teeth.
"I'll tell her when I'm ready, Phil. Meanwhile, who knows, maybe you'll even get another chance at her yourself."
I said nothing.
"I'll get in touch with you again," Jason said abruptly, and he hung up the phone.
I held the phone away from me and looked at it for several seconds, and then slammed it violently into its cradle.
Anger raced through me as I thought of Iris and how Jason was using her. It must have given him a real charge to lead Iris on and let her think that all she had to do was to offer herself to me and that would clinch the part in the play for her. That was how Jason got his kicks-taking advantage of people who needed him because of what he could do for them. Like me.
I was one of those people.
I needed Jason-and I was in too deep to back out now.
All I could do was to bang on and silently hate his guts.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Julie opened the door in answer to my ring.
"Hi," she said, and she smiled softly. I nodded and said, "Hi," and walked into the apartment.
Julie closed the door and turned to me as I took off my coat and draped it over a chair. "You look solemn, Phil. Anything wrong?"
"Just had a session with Jason on the phone," I told her.
"Oh. Was it rough, Phil?"
"Rough enough."
"Don't let Jason get you down," she said with an obvious attempt at cheerfulness.
"I won't," I said, and I abruptly switched the subject, sorry now that I had even mentioned Jason. "Let me look at you, Julie. Haven't seen you in some time."
"Oh, it hasn't been that long," she said, smiling as I looked her over.
"Long enough," I said, studying her.
She was not wearing Capri pants this time. A soft blue pullover sweater and a skirt of the same color made her seem even more feminine and exciting than the Capri pants had. Her auburn hair was brushed and shining, and her green eyes were warm and friendly.
"You look just fine," I said admiringly.
"So would you, Phil-if you'd stop scowling like that."
I laughed and said, "Sorry. Didn't realize I was doing that."
"That's better," Julie said.
"Well, shall we get down to work?" I asked, rubbing my hands together.
"I've got everything all set up, Phil." She pointed to a bridge table that had been placed in one corner of the living room. Two chairs were pulled up to the table; a portable typewriter stood ready with a pile of typing paper next to it. Several sharpened pencils, an ash tray, and two copies of the play completed the items on the table.
"Looks like you're all ready," I commented, and we sat down at the table and each of us picked up a copy of the play.
"Let's start right at the beginning," I said. "Act One, Scene One...."
We plunged right in. It was hard work, but Julie was a willing collaborator on the changes I had suggested. We argued over some of them, resolved most of our differences, and those that we couldn't resolve we left for another session.
Five hours later, both of us were worn out and eye-weary. I had stripped off my jacket and tie, rolled up my shirt sleeves, slipped off my shoes, and had mussed up my hair through constantly running my hand through it and scratching my head in attempt to help my thinking. I looked like a man who had put in a hard day's work, which I had. Julie, on the other hand, looked as fresh and as lovely as when we had started. The only thing she had done to herself was to slip off her shoes, and I had laughed at that, remarking that both of us seemed to think and work better with our shoes off.
During the session, Julie had prepared sandwiches and a big pot of coffee. The coffee pot was almost empty by the time I finally closed the manuscript of the play and said wearily, "That's about enough for today."
"Amen," Julie replied.
I looked at her and grinned. "Tired?"
"A little," she admitted. "But we did get a lot done today, Phil."
"We sure did."
"How does it look to you so far, Phil?"
I pursed my lips. "Pretty good-but there's still plenty to be done. The whole second act needs reworking. The second act is a tough one in any play, you know. Got to keep the interest generated in the first act and build to the climax of the third act."
Julie nodded.
I pushed back my chair, shook a cigarette loose from my pack, and lit it.
"More coffee?" Julie asked.
I shook my head. "Let's make it a drink instead."
Julie gave me a quick glance, then she smiled slightly. "I don't know whether I should offer you a drink, Phil."
"Oh," I said, getting what she meant. "After all," Julie said teasingly, "look what happened to me the last time I offered you a drink."
"You got spanked," I said dryly. "Among other things," Julie said, smiling ruefully. "All right, forget the drink."
"I was only teasing, Phil." Her smile broadened. "I think I can trust you this time, can't I?"
I looked at her for a long moment. She had brought up the subject, not me. And she had used a teasing tone of voice. That meant there was no bitterness in her now. All had been forgiven.
"I promise," I said, grinning at her. "No spanking tonight."
She laughed. "And ... the other things?"
It was my turn to laugh, which I did.
"That's a nasty laugh, Phil," Julie said, but her smile belied her words.
"Only if you take it that way," I countered.
She sighed. "You're too sharp for me tonight." She got to her feet. "I'll mix the drinks. Why don't you just relax on the couch?"
I got up from the chair and shuffled in my stocking feet to the couch and sat down. I watched her while she prepared the drinks and thought over what she had just said. Her invitation couldn't have been more open and obvious than if she had come right out and said it in plain words. Her little trip to think things over must have made her change her mind about me. And the fact that our session together this afternoon had gone so well had probably put her completely at ease now. Whatever it was that had done it, I knew now that all was well between us and that the rest of the night could be real fun-if I wanted to take her up on her invitation. I wanted.
After the last time, my feelings about Julie had been very confused. Maybe tonight would help straighten them out. Even if it didn't, it would still be a fun night, and I needed something like that to get the taste of Jason out of my mouth.
Julie brought the drinks over and sat down next to me on the couch. I decided not to waste any time. After we had clinked glasses and had taken a sip of our drinks, I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, still holding the drink in my hand, not touching her or holding her, just pressing my lips to hers.
She didn't draw back, and she responded to the kiss, moving her soft lips against mine.
We held the kiss for a moment, then drew back. Julie looked at me and said, "I had a hunch you'd kiss me.
I nodded. "Got any other hunches about what else I'm going to do."
"Oh, yes. I certainly do."
"It must be easy to read my mind," I said.
She smiled and said nothing.
"Let's finish our drinks," I said.
We raised our glasses in salute to each other, and she matched me swallow for swallow, with both of us finishing at exactly the same time. I took her empty glass from her, set both glasses down on the coffee table, then turned to her and took her in my arms.
"Your hunches are absolutely correct," I murmured, my lips close to hers.
She kissed me, throwing her arms around me and pressing her mouth hard against mine. It was a kiss with just our lips in action, no tongues-not yet. We broke the kiss and looked at each other, and Julie said softly, "I guess you think I'm pretty brazen tonight."
"No-not at all."
"It makes no difference, Phil. I am brazen. I want to be. I guess you bring it out in me."
I smiled. "You flatter me, Julie."
She kissed me again, brushing her lips against mine while I held her.
"About last time-" she said.
"Why talk about it, Julie?"
"It's all right, Phil. I want to." She licked her lips, looked at me steadily, and said, "I was upset the next morning. I-I thought you'd think wrong things about me."
"I didn't."
"I know that now," Julie said, and she smiled. "I'm sorry for the nasty things I said to you then, Phil."
"And I'm sorry about what I said," I told her. I kissed her quickly and said, "So now we start even."
"And we'll start right tonight, Phil."
"Yes."
"And we'll ... we'll do everything right tonight," she added.
"Yes," I said again.
She gently took my arms from her and got to her feet. "I'm going into the bedroom now, Phil. You come in a few minutes from now, all right?"
I nodded and watched her walk to the bedroom. She was already starting to pull her sweater up as she went through the door.
I wasted no time. I got out of my clothes fast, stripping down completely. I debated for a moment whether to keep my shorts on, but finally decided against it. Julie had said we'd start right, and as far as I was concerned that meant starting without any clothing to hold us back. I walked to the bedroom door and hoped that she had placed the same interpretation on her words.
She had.
There was one dim light on in the bedroom, and Julie had turned down the covers and sat waiting for me on the edge of the bed. She, too, had stripped down all the way.
She stood up as I came in, and I closed the distance between us in a couple of seconds. She came into my arms quickly and hungrily, her mouth finding mine instantly, her warm body pressing up against me as she put her arms around my shoulders.
The kiss was longer this time, and it took only a moment for her tongue to find its way deep into my mouth. The tip of her tongue circled mine, caressing it wantonly.
We broke the kiss after a while, and I stepped back from her and sat down on the bed. I patted my lap and motioned for her to come to me.
She did-but in a way I hadn't expected.
I had intended that she sit on my lap sideways, and then I had planned, after a suitable interval, to turn and stretch out on the bed with her. But, instead of doing what I had in mind, Julie faced me directly, put her hands on my shoulders, and then moved her knees and sat down on my lap facing me. With a graceful, easy movement, she lifted those beautiful arms of hers and placed then tightly around my body. She moved herself forward on my legs, getting herself comfortable, then leaned down and kissed me.
It was another long kiss, and while we kissed and our tongues worked inside each other's mouths, Julie inched forward on my lap, pulling herself in closer to me, her arms around my neck. Her nipples touched my chest, her warm body against my middle as she teased me, and then, to my amazement, Julie gave a slight forward move and gave herself to me.
It had been done so smoothly and easily, and also so quickly, that it took me unawares. I pulled my mouth away from hers, looked deep into her green eyes, then smiled at her.
"Well, that was sure fast," I said softly.
"Too fast maybe, Phil?" Julie asked in a low voice.
"No-not at all. Just a little unexpected."
Julie smiled. "I thought I'd surprise you."
"I like being surprised like this," I said, chuckling.
"It's more fun this way, too," she added
"Is this what you meant by doing everything right?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. That's part of what I meant."
"What's the rest of it?" I asked.
Julie smiled, and I felt her arms tighten about my back. She squeezed hard, relaxed her arms, then squeezed again.
"I see," I said.
Julie squeezed again, then moved her hips slightly, and I felt desire race through me.
"You're just full of surprises," I said. ( Julie didn't answer. Her green eyes glowed with desire as she brought her face close to mine, her auburn hair falling forward. Our lips met, our tongues went to work, and while we kissed, Julie kept on squeezing me with her arms and moving her hips. It was a new and exciting sensation for me, especially the way she was doing it. She moved slowly, insinuatingly, taking her time.
She was right.
It was more fun this way.
I had my hands on her waist, and I kept one hand there and moved the other down to her buttocks. I caressed slowly, letting my fingers brush her flesh gently, while Julie continued to move her hips and to squeeze me.
Then I let my other hand drop to her buttocks and held the wonderfully-contoured mounds with both hands and pulled her to me gently. Julie slid forward just a bit more on my lap, and she moaned softly as I did this to her. Her arms tightened about my neck, her breasts crushed against my chest, and her tongue probed the inside of my mouth frantically.
Her hips moved excitedly now, and her buttocks squirmed in my lap as she rolled and twisted and thrust back and forth, using her arms around my neck, squeezing me tighter all the while. My hands on her buttocks guided her and helped her, and we rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed, lost in a whirl of desire, our mouths clinging warmly.
Even as she kept her lips pressed to mine and her tongue worked away inside my mouth, Julie began to moan deep in her throat. I could feel the soft vibration of her moans on my lips and even in my own throat. It was an odd sensation, and somehow exciting.
The moment was coming fast now, and my fingers tightened on the flesh of her buttocks in anticipation. Julie's moans changed to deep, throaty whimpers, but she did not once pull her mouth away from mine, and I knew she was going to hold the kiss and keep her tongue caressing the inside of my mouth until it was all over.
Julie's arms began to squeeze me tighter, and I knew the final moment was approaching fast for her also. Her arms tightened, then relaxed, then tightened again in a wild, abandoned series of movements. Then, suddenly, she spread her arms wide and her body lurched forward as she sought to get even closer to me, to savor every last portion of her desire. Her arms moved back and forth as she kept them stretched wide, and her buttocks slid along my legs while I gripped her tightly.
And then release came for both of us together. It came in a wild, exploding burst of movement that literally lifted me from the bed while she clung to me and squeezed and strained with all her strength.
My knees felt weak when it was over, and I collapsed backward on the bed. Julie's arms unwrapped themselves from me just as I hit the bed, and she sprawled on top of me over the edge of the bed, her mouth locked with mine.
She gave a final thrust of her tongue in my mouth and raised her head and looked down at me. We smiled into each other's eyes while she rested on me, her legs sprawled wide, her soft body pressed to mine. I reached down and patted her on the buttocks, and she sighed and rolled away. ' We crawled onto the bed and stretched out fully, side by side. Julie's hand stole into mine, her slim fingers caressing my palm.
"Let's rest a while now," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Maybe even sleep a little," Julie said. "Yes ... sleep," I answered.
She turned on her side and kissed me on the cheek. "You won't get mad if I wake you up a little later?"
"Not if it's for a good reason," I said.
Julie smiled and closed her eyes. "Please cover me and turn off the light, Phil. I'm just too deliciously relaxed to move."
I did as she asked, then snuggled under the covers with her. "I'll be waiting for you to wake me up," I whispered into the darkness.
"I'll do that," she whispered back.
And she did.
Twice more during the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Julie and I worked on her play for another full week. The work didn't go as well as it had on that first session. We got bogged down in the second act, and no matter how hard we tried we just couldn't seem to get it into shape.
The first and third acts weren't in final form, either, and we worked on them whenever we hit a really tough snag in the second act-which was often.
Julie's good nature was a big help, but the strain on her began to tell after a while. It was her play, her conception, her story, and my constant efforts to change it-no matter how justified those changes were-soon brought her to the stage where her nerves were tense. We argued, we even yelled at each other a few times, and once I stormed out of her apartment in a fit of anger.
But we kept on working.
And we kept on spending nights together.
The nights were the best. Julie opened up a whole new world of warmth and affection and deep emotion for me with the intensity of her lovemaking. I had never known anything like it before. My feelings about her were still confused, still not certain, and I did think of Carla a lot during that week.
Between the strain of working on the play and the emotional turmoil of making love to Julie and trying to straighten out my own feelings, I was not in such good shape at the end of the first week's work.
And then came the phone call from Jason.
He reached me at my apartment just as I was getting ready to leave for another afternoon session on the play with Julie.
"I'm at my place, Phil," he said in a voice that seemed suddenly cold and hard. "Get over here right away."
"I was just about to do some work on the play, Jason," I said.
His voice was even colder when he replied, and there was something else in it, something I couldn't quite define. It might have been fear, except that I knew Jason wouldn't allow himself the human frailty of being afraid of anything. Anyhow, when he snapped, "I said get over here now and I mean it, Phil I" I said "Sure thing, Jason," and hung up the phone and rushed down to the street and hailed a taxi.
In the taxi I lit a cigarette and silently cursed my self for jumping whenever Jason snapped his fingers. I had turned into a trembling, fearful fool where he was concerned, and all because he controlled my future. It wouldn't be forever, I promised myself. As soon as I got that contract, and as soon as I felt a little more secure, I'd change my tactics with Jason. He'd know then that he couldn't push me around.
But even as I told myself all this, I realized deep down that with a man like Jason you don't assert your independence so easily. It was one thing to promise yourself you were going to do it someday. It was quite another matter to keep that promise.
Just as the cab pulled up in front of Jason's place, a siren wailed in back of us, and a police car pulled up to the curb. Two cops got out and ran to the alley at the side of the building. I looked at the cabbie, but he just shrugged his shoulders, and I paid him and walked into the lobby. The doorman was nowhere in sight.
Jason answered the door himself. He was wearing a velvet smoking jacket, and his face was set into hard lines as he looked at me.
He held the door open for me silently, and I followed him inside. He turned and faced me, his eyes regarding me coldly.
"What about Carla, Phil?" he asked abruptly.
"I don't understand, Jason. What about Carla?" I countered, stalling for time.
"Don't play games with me!" he snapped. "Has Carla agreed to star in the play yet?"
"Well-"
"Has she or hasn't she, Phil?"
"Well, it's this way, Jason. I-"
"Give me a straight answer Phil."
"No!" I snapped back at him. "She hasn't agreed to appear in the play yet."
"Why not?"
I was silent for a moment, and the sound of more police sirens drifted up from the street.
"Answer my question, Phil!" Jason said sharply.
"I-I haven't had a chance to talk much with her about it, Jason," I stammered, feeling the old fear come over me. "I wanted to give her a little more time to think it over."
"You've given her more than enough time. I want you to get in touch with her today, Phil. I want you to get a definite commitment out of her today. I want her to sign a contract as soon as possible." He looked at me from under beetling brows. "You won't get a contract with me, Phil, until Carla signs one first. And I'm not going to wait much longer. I want a definite affirmative answer from her today so my lawyers can start drawing up the contract."
I spread my hands helplessly. "What's the rush, Jason? Julie and I are still working on the play, and "I want to be able to announce tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest that Carla is going to star in the play," Jason cut in. "I have some very good reasons for this, Phil."
"Can I ask what those reasons are, Jason?"
"The play and the new theater and I myself are about to receive some very strong publicity, Phil," he said in a flat, emotionless voice. "It might be considered unwelcome publicity in some circles, but I intend to take full advantage of it."
"What are you talking about, Jason?" T asked, genuinely puzzled not only at his words but also at the curious hardness of his face and tone of voice.
A thin smile touched his lips and then was gone in an instant. "Iris was here," he said briefly.
"So?"
"I gave her the bad news, told her she wasn't going to be in the play."
I looked at him, waiting for him to go on. He motioned for me to follow him and went to the bedroom door and opened it. A woman's clothing was strewn about haphazardly--a dress over the back of a chair, shoes in a corner, stockings on the back of another chair, a bra and half-slip under the stockings, and a pair of panties draped over the edge of the bed.
Jason walked to the open window, through which the sound of still more police sirens came clearly. He motioned me to the window and pointed down.
T looked down nine floors to the alley below. A small crowd of police were grouped around the twisted body of a naked woman. Even at that distance, I could see she was a blonde.
I drew back from the window and looked at Jason, the truth beginning to dawn on me.
"It's Iris," he said in a flat voice. "The damned fool jumped through the window."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Waves of shock rolled over me, and I gaped at Jason with my mouth slack. My stomach turned over, and I gulped in air until the sick feeling went away. "She-she jumped?" I asked hoarsely. Jason nodded. "Couldn't take the bad news, I guess," he said calmly "The police will be up here any minute now," he added briskly. "I suggest you come out to the living room with me. Phil, and take off your coat and wait for them. I want you to tell them that you were here with me when it happened. We'll say we broke the bad news to Iris together, and when she found she wasn't going to be in the play she went out of her head and rushed into the bedroom and began ripping off her clothes. Well say we tried to stop her, not knowing what she had in mind, and then, before either one of us could do anything about it, she jumped." He paused and looked at me. "I'd say that was a logical story, wouldn't you, Phil?"
I stared at him unbelievingly.
"Come now, Phil," he said, and the thin smile appeared for an instant on his lips, "you won't object to doing me this favor, will you?" He hesitated. "Maybe I spoke a little harshly before-I mean about getting Carla to commit herself today to star in the play. You can take your time about that if you want to. Handle Carla in your own way. I won't interfere. And you can have your contract now, too." He took a step toward me. "I was so wrapped up in thinking how to turn this-" He motioned to the window. "This tragedy into something more than bad publicity, that I guess I forgot myself and snapped at you."
I continued to stare at him, unable to speak.
He took another step toward me and said, "You know, Phil, a man in my position has to think of a lot of things. He can't always think of himself or allow emotion to take hold of him. He has to be cold and hard and ruthless at times. Many people work for me. A lot of people depend upon me for their livelihood. I have to make sure that nothing happens to me or to my business interests that will deprive all these people of their jobs. You understand, don't you, Phil?"
He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.
That snapped me out of it. I jerked back from him, glanced once at the window, then turned and walked quickly out of the bedroom, through the living room, and right out of the apartment.
I didn't bother waiting for the elevator. I took the stairs and ran down all nine flights coming out at the rear of the lobby The lobby was full of police and curious tenants, and nobody paid much attention to me. I walked through the lobby and out the front door.
I started down the street, walking fast, not seeing where I was going, bumping into people, not paying any attention when they cursed me. Finally, blocks away from Jason's building, I stopped and looked about me. The blinking neon sign of a bar two doors away beckoned to me.
I walked rapidly to the bar.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I drank for two days.
I didn't get drunk. I got sick a few times, but I didn't get drunk. I was sober enough to sit in a bar and look bleary-eyed at the television set and watch the news program and see how nicely Jason got out of the situation. They interviewed him, and he was all broken up over what had happened, and the announcer was most sympathetic, and some guy at the bar said it was a real tough break for Jason because a producer sometimes has to tell actors or actresses that they don't qualify for a part and he can't be held responsible if an actress flips completely and jumps out a window.
When I heard that, I slammed my drink down on the bar so hard that I broke the glass. The bartender and the customers glared at me, and I tossed some money on the bar and walked out and went into another joint down the block.
I kept on drinking, trying to dull my mind, trying to keep myself from thinking But it did no good. I did a lot of thinking in those two days, and I had a chance to look into myself with a clarity that I had never experienced before. I had known all along that Jason was using me, but I had done nothing about it. Jason had used me right up to the very end, calling me to his apartment to try to get me to back him up in that phony story of his, and on top of it all he had even tried to get me to work on Carla so she would agree right away to star in the play. And Jason hadn't missed a trick He had started out by snapping harshly at me, figuring he'd scare me good so I'd do whatever he wanted and then when he saw how hard I'd been bit by the sight of Iris lying all broken and twisted in that alley, he had switched tactics and tried to soft soap me and bribe me with the offer of a contract, something he knew I'd been angling for all along.
Oh, Jason was real good at using people, at playing on their fears and hopes and dreams, and he had been slick enough to turn even Iris's suicide to his own advantage.
And then I suddenly realized that here I was feeling sorry for myself, thinking only of myself, when the one who should have had all my thoughts was Iris, poor Iris, who had been used by Jason, and even used by me and who just had not been strong enough to take the kick in the teeth that Jason had handed her.
I felt myself choking up when I thought of ft, but I didn't cry. Grown men don't cry too often, and to cry in a bar only labels you in everyone's eyes as a crying drunk, and nobody would really know what I was crying about if I did let the tears come. So I swallowed back the choking feeling and held back the tears and left the bar and went to another one.
At the end of the second day, I'd had enough.
I tried to call Carla, but there was no answer on her private phone, so I made my way back to my apartment in a pouring rain, a cold, driving rain, and I let myself into the darkened apartment and slumped down in a chair, not even bothering to put on the lights or to take off my wet clothes.
I don't know how long I sat like that, just staring into the darkness, not moving at all. I didn't even move when the door chimes sounded, and I heard a woman's voice calling my name out in the hall.
The knob rattled, and then the door started to open, and I realized numbly that I hadn't even closed the door tightly enough to have the snap lock work.
I looked up and saw a woman's figure silhouetted in the light from the hall, and then Julie's voice called out, "Phil?"
I stirred in the chair, and I saw her fumble for the light switch and put it on.
"Oh, Phil!" she gasped when she saw me, her hand going to her mouth.
I mumbled something incoherent, but I know I wasn't making any sense. Then Julie was bending over me, helping me to my feet not caring if she got herself soaked from my frigid clothes. After that the rest of it became a sort of blur.
I found myself being led into the bedroom, and I felt Julie stripping off my wet clothes, then drying me with a big towel, then covering me. She went out of the room for a while, and I just lay there in the bed, not sleeping, not passing out, still awake but with everything still all blurred for me. Then Julie came back, and I felt her hold something hot to my lips and the smell of it told me it was coffee, and I swallowed some of it and almost got sick. But I finished the cup and then lay back. I closed my eyes-and swirling blackness took over.
I passed out.
I came to again sometime in the night, and I stirred and moaned, and then I sensed the presence of someone else in the bed with me, and Julie moved over to me, all warm and soft and sweet-smelling, and her voice was whispering in my ear, telling me she wanted to help me, not to take it so hard, that I'd feel better in the morning and that time would take care of everything.
And I reached for her blindly, seeking the warmth and comfort of her arms, and she drew my head down to her breasts and held me there, holding me tightly, stroking my head, comforting me with her body, covering me with her softness, soothing me, until I finally went back to sleep.
The sound of the door chimes woke me up.
I sat up in bed quickly, my head spinning, my eyes blinking in the light that pierced through the drawn shades at the window.
Julie woke up also and looked at me, and the door chimes sounded again.
"I'll see who it is," I said thickly, and I climbed slowly off the bed, found my robe and slipped it on, and stuck my feet in my slippers. I padded out of the bedroom and shut the door while Julie watched me silently from the bed. Then I crossed the living room as the chimes sounded again, and I unlatched and opened the apartment door.
"Hello, Phil," Carla said softly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Carla walked past me into the apartment, and I closed the door and walked after her into the living room.
She had on a fur coat, the collar turned up around her neck, and she took off the coat and dropped it on a chair and came over to me and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I didn't respond to the kiss.
She drew back her head, puzzled, staring at me. "What's the matter, Phil?" she asked coarsely. "What are you doing here?" I asked hoarsely. "Well, that's a fine way to greet me, Phil." I put my hand to my head. "Sorry," I mumbled. "It's-it's just that I didn't expect to see you."
"I got in a day and a half ago," Carla said. "I kept trying to reach you, but there was no answer."
"Did you call last night?" I asked, suddenly remembering that Julie had been here while I slept, and that she was here now behind the closed bedroom door.
"No," Carla said hesitantly. "I didn't call last night, Phil. I was-with Jason."
My head snapped up as I heard her words. "With Jason?"
She nodded. "Yes ... And I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, Phil."
I looked at her and waited for her to go on.
"Jason isn't going to do the play, Phil," Carla said in a low voice. "And that means you're not going to get to direct it, of course." She licked her lips. "You'd find this out one way or another soon, Phil, so I wanted to tell you myself. I told Jason I couldn't see myself in that play, and he had to agree with me after I talked it over with him."
"It doesn't matter now," I said.
"I'm still going to star in the opening production at the new theater, Phil," Carla said quickly. "Jason now wants to put on a Shakespeare play. We haven't decided on which one yet, but whatever it is, I've agreed to star in it."
"Shakespeare?" I said.
"Yes. Every actress wants to do Shakespeare, Phil-and now I've got my chance."
"Good luck with it," I said. "And good luck with Jason, too."
She came to me and put her hand on my arm. "Don't talk like that, Phil. We-we can still go on as before.
This doesn't make any difference to us, does it? We can still see each other."
"In between your visits to Jason?" I asked.
She looked down at the floor and dropped her hand from my arm. "It'll have to be that way for a while, Phil. I can't afford to-to offend Jason."
"I though that way once," I said quietly. "And so did Iris. You heard about her, didn't you?"
Carla glanced up at me quickly, her eyes filling with tears. "Please, Phil! Don't talk like that to me ... Please! I have to do this. I can't turn down this chance."
I looked at her and wanted to tell her that she was a fool to try Shakespeare. She wasn't that good an actress, never had been and never would be. And I wanted to tell her, too, that she'd get nothing but grief from Jason. Oh, she wouldn't be foolish enough to jump out of a window when Jason turned on her, but she was in for a lot of hurt from him. I wanted to tell her all this, but I didn't. Instead, I said, "You go ahead and do what you think is best for yourself, Carla. You go ahead and do that-but don't include me in your plans any more." I held up my hand as she started to protest. "I can't live that kind of life, Carla. I've found that out now. I can't cut corners and work angles and use people."
"But, Phil ... What about us? Don't you want me any more?"
I looked at her for a long while, and I forced myself to be honest. "I do care for you, Carla-but not the way I used to. That's gone now. It started when I first thought of using you to help me put one over on Jason. That's when I tried to live your kind of life, and that's when-even though I didn't realize it at the time that's when my feeling for you started to change. It ended for us, Carla, when I saw Iris dead in that alley. I tried to call and tell you that, but there was no answer." I looked away from her for a moment, then swung back to her. "It's all over for us, Carla." I said firmly. "I'm sorry."
She stared at me for a long moment, then without a word, picked up her coat and walked out, closing the apartment door quietly behind her.
I stood looking at the closed door, and my thoughts were only of Julie. I didn't know how much she had heard from the bedroom, but I was going to tell her everything-about me and Carla, about Iris, about Jason. Everything.
And I'd tell her, too, that I still thought she had a good play. It might take more time now to get it produced, but I'd work with her on it-after I first found a job, of course-and I'd help her all I could, and I'd be with her all the time. If she wanted me.
I hurried to the bedroom door and opened it, Julie was sitting up in bed.
"Julie-" I began, and then faltered.
"Yes, Phil?" she said, and she smiled at me.
"I've got a lot to tell you," I said, walking toward the bed.
And when I saw that she was still smiling at me, when I saw the warmth and understanding in her eyes, I knew that I already had her answer.
