In his book, Sex in Society, Alex Comfort writes: "Forms of behavior have to be considered in the light of what is known of their unconscious origin, in the light of what is customary or tolerated in a given culture, and in the light of the part they play in the individual's mental economy of who does what, and when and where. It is disproportionate, if we are interested in the social effects, to lay much emphasis on the kind of physical variation or deviation in behavior such object deviations are of great biological and psychoanalytical interest, because of the light they may throw on the way in which sexual 'releaser' operate..." And political PR man Mark Vista was one of the fastest operators. He had learned to further the career of his cruel boss, Johnny Cataldo, by charting a course strewn with women. He had something special, and they vied to be with him. Mark was going to climb to the top on a ladder of soft bodies until Cataldo found out about Mark and Angela.
CHAPTER ONE
WITH HER SAFFRON-COLORED TAN AND GLISTENING flaxen hair streaming in a blinding array down the firm sloping planes of her strong bare back, she was still the Golden Girl of the 1960 Olympics.
That had been a big year for her. The year of Lita Leary, the lithe, leonine Golden Girl of the Golden West. Every national magazine in the country, including Life, Look, Time, Vogue every big name in the business gave her tremendous coverage. Lita was a publicist's dream. The new Grace Kelly. The forerunner of Jackie Kennedy.
Both the Associated Press and U.P.I. carried her picture time and again around the world on their Unifax and Fotofax machines. Thousands of words about Lita were filed by both wire services around the globe, on their leased cable lines. You couldn't so much as look at a TV set or a movie news show without seeing Lita Leary swooshing down the slopes at Squaw Valley, zigzagging through the gates of the slalom course at Suger-loaf, or schussing the giant downhill trail at Garmisch.
It is seven years since then, yet the legend of lush Lita Leary still lingers in the land. For everyone who is the least bit nostalgic or sentimental, she remains as fresh and as vibrant as in those days when she soared her way to international fame as a teen-age daredevil on skis.
Close your eyes, mention her name, and the familiar beautiful face flashes on the cinerama screen of your lowered eye lids. The piercing blue eyes are the first feature that grabs you. They are set wide apart and invitingly in the coppery tan skin stretched tautly and caressingly over her amazing bone structure. The classic nose bears two small nostrils which always appear to be flaring disdainfully, as though bored with all the attention.
While the image is still before you, Lita slowly wets the swollen fullness of her red lips with the tiny darting tip of her long tongue. Then just before the vision fades, she leisurely parts her gleaming lips to reveal the brilliance of her even white teeth.
That was Lita Leary of the PR man's dream six-years ago. But if she was the Golden Girl then, she was a Golden Goddess now as I held her locked to me in the extra bedroom I had reserved for myself in the boss' name at the Statler-Mason. The blue eyes that once gazed so imperiously out from the cover of a hundred magazines now flashed down at me, vividly reflecting the intense pleasure she was receiving with each thrust of my rigid rod into her tight wet pussy.
The moist lips that in the past only uttered the carefully prepared words of the public relations writer now formed a big 'O' while her tongue continued to snake in and out. In our sexual embrace, she imagined she still was assaulting my mouth.
"Man," she exulted, "I thought my old Senator was good. Thought he was big and knew how to use it like it should be used. But you are the greatest, Mark Vista. Man, I love it," she cried, her voice husky and sensuous and fully signifying the pleasure and satisfaction she was deriving from our coupling.
"Feels, Mark, like it is going to come right up through my belly into my hot mouth. Man, would I love that. Imagine getting it both ways at once. I could die just thinking about it"
That was one thing about Lita. Since I first had met her as a U.P.I, newsman covering the Olympics, I never knew her to be unimaginative or bereft of the right words to express her thoughts, especially if they had anything to do with screwing.
And quite obviously from the way she was sticking fast in the saddle, she had been putting her imagination to work between times when I rode her. I had all I could do to hang on.
"We'll have to wrap it up on this shot, Lita," I said, breathing sort of heavy. "I've got to get upstairs shortly to my man or he'll be all over me. He can be a bastard when he wants to be."
"You mean that the public doesn't see the real Johnny Cataldo," Lita asked facetiously. She knew better.
"Don't put me on, baby. You know what he is. Let the public think he is one hell of a guy. Kissing the kids all the time. Flashing the pearly whites. Giving all that dough to charity and the church. He's a real phony like the rest of them. A first class one. But he is going places and I'm going right along as press secretary-even to the White House with a little bit of luck."
Lita laughed between strokes. She cocked her head, sending ripples through her blonde tresses. "It won't be luck with you, Mark. It will be you know what."
She was silent for a moment as we kept at it, grinding away. "Don't forget, Markie baby, my man is running for the nomination too. And I aim to get it for him!"
"Great, Lita. That's what I like, loyalty. Fight for him, just as hard as I'm fighting for Cataldo. The wop bastard."
We were both silent for a moment. Our breathing was in unison and picking up. The first faint slapping sounds became discernible.
"I don't give a damn really who wins, Lita. Just remember our deal. Your old man wins and I go along as his press secretary. One way or the other I'm riding someone's coattails to the top. I've earned it for all the lousy deadlines I kept as a newsman. For those nine years with the goddamn wire services. For all those lousy cups of coffee I drank and stale doughnuts I ate covering stories. All the death watches I've kept. For all the weekends and nights and holidays, including
Christmas and New Year's, I've worked in one cold dreary city after another. The wires are good experience for a young man but they'll kill you after a while."
Lita continued to come down hard on me, revolve once or twice, then shoot back up the stick to relax for a split second before again descending. Her enormous tits bounced up down and down; the projecting points bobbed about like the red noses of two frolicking puppies.
"You can't complain too much, Mark. Look at the experience you got, especially in all those European capitals. Hell, you were in Stockholm alone for one year. And then there was Paris, Rome, London, and don't forget Munich and those islands ... Capri, Ischia, Majorca. No wonder you are so talented. If you know what I mean?"
"No more than you, Lita," I said smiling reflectively. We did them all together, remember? I think we made the scene in every ski town in Europe and then some. I don't think there's a jet-set resort in which you didn't haul my ashes."
Lita blushed becomingly, but pressed down more determinedly on my joy stick. She began to pick up the tempo with the fullness of her full round buttocks. Her firm thighs revolved simultaneously. Our nude bodies slapped hotly, wetly together.
"Definitely going to have to drop it soon, Lita," I panted out. "Time is getting shorter. The old bird is on the wing."
In the early evening, like it was now, before I have a couple of J & B Rare Scotches, I can usually go four times. I'm hitting thirty-two but I have always made it a practice to take good care of myself. Plenty of exercise, good food, including lots of milk and eggs, and lots of sleep or naps whenever possible.
I decided a long time ago that if you want to get on in this crummy world you are a fool to let yourself go, especially after thirty. You've got to keep in shape. If you don't, the top-drawer types quickly conclude that you're nothing but a fat slob. You don't see any fatsos among the rich and the successful. At least not very often.
Image is everything today. Not only with the candidates going for the top spot like my man Cataldo who is hoping to pull off the gubernatorial nod at the State convention getting underway at the Statler-Mason but for any guy who is hip and wants to keep on making the scene.
JFK started it all in a really big way. Bless his soul. He was a great guy. Real class. But the image-making began with him. He was the first to fully comprehend the advantages of television to a political candidate and to implement them. It isn't enough to have the dough, even though you can forget about winning any high office without it you've also got to have the image, the appeal bit. You know what I mean: the steady honest gaze, the strong jaw, the manly demeanor, the rugged profile, the deep male voice. And, of course, the big smile to display the dazzling teeth. And the produce should be packaged in Brooks Brothers type clothing.
Yes, JFK saw you could win the big prize with television. He realized most people in this country are clods who seldom read anything, much less news columns or editorials. Get your message over with the image on the boob tube, that's what he believed. Say it simply and concisely. Let the other bums get all the coverage they want in the dailies and by the wire services. Grab all the TV spots possible. It's a great big world of shadow and very little, if any, substance.
All the while these thoughts were flitting through my mind, Lita was working harder and harder, striving for that big peak up there in the sky where your being becomes a quivering, sensitive mass of unholy delight. We sure could scale that height together.
So, just like the smart boys, I keep up my image. Candidates like to have sharp guys around them. That's the main reason for the exercise bit every morning. And I am not talking about mattress pushups, although I get more than my share of that. But even then I save my love juices for the right broads. The dames who can do things for me.
Why waste the juice on dumb broads who can do you no good? I have even given broads in their forties and fifties a workout if I figure they can do me some good on my climb up that stairway to the stars. I'll take a big-titted matron over a young chick every time if it's worth my while.
It probably sounds cynical. Yet, I'm not a cynic, just a realist. This is the kind of world we live in, believe me, I know. I've been around. You play it my way or you're dead, daddy-o. D-E-A-D.
Now deep down, way below in the furthermost region of that bottomless pit of my being, I could sense the first stirring of my fourth load. Soon it would be rising like a heavenly geyser to fill my personal sky with a myriad of stars and exploding rockets. No one, but no one, shoots the moon like me when my missile takes off. It puts the Gemini and Apollo programs to shame. They shape up like sputtering firecrackers when I take off.
It was rapidly getting near lift-off. I could feel the charge gathering in that unknown, unseen part of my body. It was slowly gathering a head of steam to jump off to a fast start on the race through my loins for the final triumphant jetting through my throbbing connector into Lita's high-powered box. Her cup would 'runneth over' on this parting shot.
"Pretty soon now, baby," I grunted, writhing about on the sheets of the huge bed like it was sort of a hot griddle. I like my beds big. Gives you a good chance to really gallop while high in the saddle.
"Yes," Lita groaned between genuine moans of ecstasy, "let's make it a good one for the road. Hold it, I want to roll over so I can get the full impact of your cock and every drop of your juices. No-keep going. I've changed my mind. I want to see if we can still swap positions without becoming disconnected. like before, remember?"
Remember, she asked. How could I ever forget? I figured it out once that Lita and I had made this same scene in different variations some two-hundred and eighty-two times in thirty-four cities and burgs around the world. We did that too. She still, however, is only my second-best record.
"Hold it, Lita," checking my reminiscing. "I want to look you over one more time. My old eyes can't get enough of you when you are up top. Just a moment and then I'll give you a jolt."
Lita smiled knowingly, confident of her youthful charms. She was ever aware of the tremendous body she had to display. At twenty-four, she could outpoint almost every broad I knew.
She was straddling me. Her muscled hips and thighs rippled caressingly against my moist loins. Hovering over me, she appeared like a wanton goddess of illicit love. The silken length of her corn-yellow hair framed her beautiful face and dropped away to brush my tingling breast ends. Her mouth was a yawning cavern of delight as she came nearer to the heavenly time. Her breath gently touched me, smelling of toothpaste, cigarettes, and her own womanly heat. It was coming faster and harsher. Her tiny nostrils flared sharply, they were like two dark recesses beckoning me into the depths of her feminine mystique.
My eyes narrowed, filling with male anguish and climactic wonderment, roved approvingly down the length of her lovely tanned neck to fasten hungrily on the heavy fullness of her bulging tits. Hard pink nipples capped the great bulk of those twin globes.
My hunger and thirst for the ripe flavor of Lita's love cones became almost unbearable. I took one of those big dangling beauties in each hand. Crying out with pleasure, Lita pressed her great mounds of flesh into the forest of my fingers.
I fingered and kneaded the rigid tips. Out they popped even further. Their great aureoles reddened as I squeezed and pinched them. Lita groaned with happiness.
Lita leaned closer to me. She teasingly let one of the swinging globes pop into my eager mouth. I nearly suffocated in the swollen mass, but managed to grab a few quick breaths through my nose while sucking the hard rubber-like tip. The odor of that exquisite melon enveloped me from head to toes.
One of my hands trailed down the silky loveliness of her golden back to seize one big round buttock. I pulled her to me. Ever so slowly, our legs tightly entwined, I slowly revolved about to take the dominant male position. This maneuver was accomplished without a lost stroke. I managed also to keep my teeth fastened to her heaving breast.
"No one makes that switch like you, Mark," Lita gushed admiringly. "Now, baby, make it good. Pound the hell out of me. Make it hurt me."
It was her request, lady's choice you might say, so I dug my toes into the bottom of the bed and began our fierce race neck to neck. I figured I could make the scene in twenty strokes. As we rhythmically rocked in tandem up and down and around and around on the sheets, I counted out the strokes. The slapping of our glued bodies grew louder and louder, and I swore every guest in the hotel could hear us going at it. By then, of course, I couldn't care less.
I was just counting number sixteen when I felt my charge moving out, blasting off from that base deep in my groin and coursing wildly headlong through my body.
"It's that magic moment again, Lita. I'm coming. Hold on now. I'se a coming, hot and heavy. Loaded for bear! You're going to get a bellyful. . . right now!"
"Let me have it, Mark baby," Lita cried. "Fill me up!"
I blasted off with a titanic roar. My liquid fuel shot me to the moon as it zipped into Lita and turned her into a quivering torch of rapturous bliss. How we hooted and howled and then groaned and growled with joy as both hit the apogee together. Lita squeezed me tight as possible with her long legs. She was determined to get that last drop. I guess she always figured me as the Maxwell House man.
"Beautiful, Lita. You really know how to haul my ashes. Talk about getting that last drop. I bet I'm bone dry."
Lita laughed. It was a magically trilling laugh laced with sensual satisfaction and riven with happiness.
"No bone now, Mark," she said, giving it a pat. She slid over on the damp sheets. I rolled over on my back, slightly exhausted. I was filled with visions of our just-completed coupling. I could still feel my final sharp and urgent probing that cleaved her legs. How I had soared as my goodies spouted into Lita's lush loveliness.
I couldn't help remembering the first I had ever seen her. It was at the Olympics. I actually had turned weak with desire to possess her. How I had dreamed of the day when I would find myself between her legs and locked in their vise-like grip.
As I sprawled contentedly on the bed, Lita bounded up, her big bubbies bobbing majestically, to dress. It was time for her to return to her husband, State Senator Tom Ward. She was obviously conscious of my close scrutiny as she washed up with a great detail of style. She dressed the same way.
Facing me in the middle of the floor, standing proudly and stark naked, she casually dropped her bra over her raised arms, hooked it and pulled it down under her great protuberances. Each of her melons then were popped into their loving silk cups. They shot out to attention when she fastened the snap.
Man, what a pair. I could never get over them. It was an eternal joy to behold those twin ivory towers of feminine perfection. I envied the peek-a-boo bra which had so many hours to hug them closely.
There is nothing I like better than big bubbies. Monstrous ones. I suppose Freudians can make a case out of that. With' me, it's pure sex. It's got nothing to do with my parents. It's just a matter of grabbing and sucking.
Lita next picked up her French panties from where I had tossed them. She rolled them up and then stepped into them, one graceful leg following the other. The yellow hair of her love nest was clearly visible through the diaphanous material. The panties hardly consisted of more than a deep V across her loins. I had to look away briefly from that familiar hot spot. I was getting heated up again.
Lita must have sensed my heat. A smile slowly crossed her face. She stood unmoving for a minute. She was dressed only in her bra, panties, girdle belt and black silk stockings, the big thing in fashion this year. The length and curves of her legs were accentuated by the high-heeled pumps she had slipped on.
"Mark, you should pull up the sheet. Laying naked like that gets me all hot and bothered. I might be tempted to come over and bite you. Yummy! A great big bite and you know where."
I laughed. Desire was welling up again. Have to knock off that thought or I would be knocking off Lita again. Then I would really be in hot water with Cataldo. Lita would have to wait. I learned a long time ago that there is a time to work and a time to play. We had played and now it was time to work.
"Nothing I would like better, Lita. But not now. You save those hot lips for later. I've got to check in with Cataldo and see how we are doing with the delegates. You've got to get back to old Tom before he starts getting suspicious."
I jumped quickly out of bed. After scrubbing up, I dressed. Myself, I like conservative clothes. Specially in my business. Dark suit, buttoned-down shirt, rep regimental tie usually blue and red to give people the idea you're a Harvard man executive knee socks ... black, of course, and soft-grained black shoes.
I opened the door a few inches to check the amount of pedestrian traffic in the hallway. Lita brushed up behind me. Clad in a simple black dress, with a string of pearls at the neck and her long blonde hair brushed straight down over her shoulders, she teasingly pressed her hard boobies into my back. Even through the bra and dress, she never wore a slip, their red-nosed tips prickled my skin like two long fingernails. I reached up behind me and let my fingers scamper under her dress to pat her love groove. Bango! It became moist almost immediately.
"C'mon, now Lita, I'll give it to you right out on the hall rug."
Lita laughed, baring her big mouthful of gleaming teeth. "Mmmmm, I think I would like that, Mark. Maybe Tom would catch us. I'd like that. Can you imagine the look on his face?"
"Yeh, really great," I replied. "That's all I need. He's the guy you are going to persuade to hire me as his press secretary if he wins the nomination. Remember? I just don't figure I would get much consideration if he found me jabbing his faithful wife in the hallway or any other place for that matter."
"Don't worry, honey. Old Tom doesn't figure us that way at all. You know he has a very high opinion of your professional writing ability. And I am sure he will jump at the chance to have you on his staff. If he has any doubts about hiring you, I'll shut him off for a few nights. He'll come around fast."
"Old Tom isn't going to do anything to hurt his chances for the nomination. I'm his best asset. Together we make a handsome couple. See the millionaire industrialist and his charming young wife: the effervescent and lovely Lita Ward of Olympic skiing fame. Don't worry, Mark, he isn't about to do anything to blur that image in the delegates' mind."
"I'm sure of that," I said knowingly. "You're a PR man's dream of the candidate's perfect wife. Cataldo's old lady," I lied, "can't come close to you. But don't take Tom for a fool. He didn't get where he is today because he is an idiot. Push any guy hard enough and he will turn on you. We can do without that for now. Besides we will have plenty of chances in the next couple of days to jump between the sheets and hammer away. Right now, we have to cool it."
Nodding in agreement, Lita started out the door. She turned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Brief as it was her tongue darted out and placed a warm imprint on my face. Silly broad, she was always trying to hold an edge on me.
"Maybe later we can get together with a bottle of daiquiris, lover boy. If you know what I mean," she said, smiling before ducking out the door.
I closed it quickly behind her. I laughed. Old Lita and her bottle of daiquiris. It was a private thing between us. Back about the one-hundred and fiftieth time for us, we had ordered a bottle of daiquiris and really sailed.
It had been like LSD. We really had taken off. like we were seeing ourselves in color on the movie screen. There wasn't anything we hadn't tried that crazy night. I must have popped at least six times. And from every conceivable position. You name it, we did it. What a hot broad! I'm sure that was the evening she was referring to when she said something about wanting to bite me.
We had really gone both ways. In newspaper parlance 'thirty' means finished. Kaput. Done. Over. But before we called it 'thirty' for that night, we added nearly forty additional numbers. Did she ever taste good. Sweetest seam ever. Nothing like it, as Frank Harris always said.
Well, enough of those thoughts. With Lita gone, I had to get down to business. Oops, guess I couldn't get her out of my mind.
In the bathroom, I gave my thick, dark brown hair a few fast brushes straight back. I've got a good head of hair for a fellow my age. The old man always had one before he got knocked off in the war, so I should hang on to mine. Just to be sure though, I stand on my head five minutes a day to get the blood circulating in the scalp and then brush it vigorously for another five minutes.
Brushing my hair also serves as a good warm-up to my daily schedule of bending and twisting. From there I go into some fifty push-ups, a series of isometric exercises, and wind up with ten minutes of jogging in place.
So, as I said, at thirty-two I'm in pretty good shape. The mirror shows it too. Even after the workout with Lita. The whites of my eyes were clear and bright. My skin stretched tightly across fairly normal features. What you might call the Ail-American type. Nothing striking or pretty-boyish. But healthy-looking and more attractive than the average. A minute a day with the sunlamp keeps up my healthy leather look.
What I lack in looks, I always make up for by personal cleanliness, charm, and careful grooming. Add them all up, and I make a better appearance than ninety per cent of the guys in the world. I also gain a few more points by keeping myself well informed, not only about news events but about cultural endeavors the latest books, stage plays, stuff like that. I have also developed the ability to let other people shoot off the mouth while I usually keep my own affairs to myself.
Straightening out my tie, I slipped into my dark gray flannel jacket, making sure the top two buttons were fastened Ivy League style. Then I gave the room a quick look-see. The bed needed a few pats to remove the rumpled appearance. The telephone rang. I debated whether to pick it up or not I was sure it was Cataldo. He would want to know where the he! I was. But I was certain of my end, so I picked it up. I held the telephone a few inches from my ear. Cataldo was one of these guys who talked much too loud on the telephone.
It was Cataldo. Demanding as ever. But I knew how to handle him. Talk right up to his level. Once he loses his respect for you, you're on your way out. I do my job and I do well because of the experience I have had in the business. I don't take anything from Cataldo. He pays me and I do his PR work. I deliver.
I deliver because I'm a professional in one of the toughest, dirtiest fields of work imaginable the field of public relations.
You may think your work is cut-throat, but believe me, it can't compare to mine. You see human nature in the raw. And it stinks. But if you produce and keep your client happy, it pays well and you get around in the best circles. Who wants to be stuck in some insipid, assinine job year after year in Dullsville? I'd rather be back in the paratroops. I figure you only live once and you should try to make that one time as exciting and as colorful as possible. And if you can go first class, all the better.
"Just take it easy, Johnny. Everything is set. Believe me, Johnny." He-likes you to talk to him like he was a film star and you were his agent. "Everything is A-OK. The press is busy getting primed on your food and booze. The news conference is set for seven. We'll brief you shortly on any loaded questions. The wire services have been notified and are supposed to be represented. And we've got the TV and radio people coming."
Cataldo had no comeback to my preparations except to growl his approval. In a softer voice, he asked me to get right up to his room. And he asked if I could pick up his wife on the way. I said I hoped she was dressed and ready and he told me not to worry about it, that she was.
He hung up. I mean he just hung up. No goodbye. Cataldo never says hello or good-bye on a phone. When he picks it up he just starts talking. When he is through, he just hangs up the receiver. The guy has no class. Just money. And lots of it, fortunately. Thankfully too, because without it he wouldn't stand a chance of copping the nomination and getting a shot at the Governor's mansion.
I relished the soft feel of the deep-pile rug under my feet as I walked to the elevator. I was on the seventh floor and Angela was one up. And in more ways than one. Angela was a woman with a capital W. I only had glimpsed her now and then in the five months I had been handling Cataldo's PR. A couple of times at strategy sessions in his house at Merrymount (how's that for a name) and during several high-class social functions in town. Always, she would just chit-chat politely for a few minutes and then move on. Real cool. The coolest.
I still hadn't figured her and Cataldo, unless it was the money. She was a good twenty years younger than Johnny. I couldn't see how he kept her happily tied to him, if she liked her lovings.
I hurried up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. On the cinerama screen of my mind, I beheld a lovely vision of Angela. You need the wide screen to visualize Angela. She's one of these big sexy Italian broads. Misty eyes, long arrogant nose, red warm lips which looked like they could set you on fire with just a touch. She was provided with the standard set of heaving bubbies, flat stomach, wide flaring hips which dropped away into the traditional tight loins above the elongated legs. The dull ache clutched me deep in the groin.
Don't get me wrong. Angela was no easy make. At least I never had been given any indication that she was. There was no talk around of her handing it out. Yet, there was always this certain, indefinable glint deep down in the low burning coals of her black eyes which promised paradise to the man gutsy enough to try. It was as though she were saying: if you're a man, try. I may shoot you down, but you'll never know if you don't take a chance.
My watch told me I didn't have the time. My juices were low anyway. Yet I might just be able to work up some goodies if she seemed interested. Being short on the juices would mean I would last quite a while. But best not try. Cataldo was waiting. I could get back to her later.
I pressed the buzzer to suite 892. Too bad Cataldo trusted me. He would learn like the rest. Hell with him. Guys like him are ruthless. That's why they are at the top. You have to be the same way. I was.
As I heard Angela approaching, I could think of nothing but those fantastic tits she always had stuffed into her tight cashmere sweaters. I kidded myself about biting one of them when she opened the door. Only she didn't open the door. Rather she called for me to come on in.
CHAPTER TWO
"Hello, anybody home?" I shouted pushing the door open and stepping into Johnny Cataldo's suite. The hotel, hedging its bets, had given each of the top contenders one of its so-called international suites. The Cataldos had been assigned the Pacific suite.
It was Pacific in every way. The padded walls and wall-to-wall carpeting held any noises down to a minimum. It was like a tomb when I stepped inside. The living room was done in Danish modern with an aquamarine color scheme to give one the idea of the interior of a fish bowl. Somewhere there was even the sound of running water.
I figured quickly that it must have been Angela because I didn't spot her anywhere in the living room which was lighted by only the dim illumination of two huge lamps at opposite ends of the room.
"Hi-ho, Angela. It's Mark. Mark Vista. Johnny asked me to come by for you." My voice sounded hushed and sepulchral in the low-ceilinged room. I got the slightest sensation of uneasiness in my belly. What the hell was going on, anyway? I wondered.
I called again. "Angela. Are you here. It's Mark. I'm going on upstairs. Are you coming along?"
The sound of running water stopped. Then she called to me. Maybe my imagination was working overtime but her voice seemed overlaid with tones tinged with feverish passion and invitation.
"Mark, in here. In the bath. Come and be a good fellow and help me out."
Well, let it never be said that Mark Vista was not one to help a lady in distress. I flipped the lock on the door to the suite and jogged silently across the rugging to the door of the bathroom around to the left of the living room and off the hallway leading into this immense bedroom done all in blues and greens.
Just to be on the safe side since I might have heard her wrong I asked: "You want me to give you a hand?" To myself, I thought of something else I'd like to give her, something big and hard and throbbing and that she'd love being hoisted up on. "
"Yes, Mark. Here in the bath. C'mon now, don't be bashful. It's all right."
Well, if she thought so, I wasn't about to argue. I fixed my expression in what I figured was a cool one and gaily pushed open the door with the tip of one finger. She was right. It was all right.
She was in the bathtub all right, just as I hoped. And she apparently was stark naked but you could never tell from the thousands of bubbles that covered the surface of the water from one end to the other.
"Hi, Mark. How sweet of you to come by for me. I'm so sorry, but you can see I'm not anywhere near ready. You'll tell Johnny for me that I'll be along a little later. I'll explain the delay."
All the time she was talking she was giving me this teasing look from her big black soulful eyes. She had washed off every bit of make-up but she was still a great beauty. Her glossy black hair was pinned up in a great Stygian-hued mass atop her head. Several tendrils had escaped from the pile and clung wetly to the nape of her neck and wide flaring shoulders, which shone like polished ivory from the moisture of the bursting bubbles under the soft fluorescent lights set in the green tiled walls. The damn bubbles rose right up to a vantage point just below her rather strong chin, ruling out even a chance for a peek at her own famous bubbles.
"Is that all, Angela?" I asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I thought she had said something about helping her out. I was hoping that she meant out of the bathtub.
"Oh, there is one thing," she said, her expression and voice making it quite obvious that she was on to me. "Do be a good fellow and do my back."
I tried not to look surprised as she handed me the long-handled plastic brush. I started innocently enough smack in the middle of her back but I gradually began to enlarge the work area. Angela didn't protest as I stroked her creamy white skin. Occasionally she gave out with a soft but audible sigh.
"That's heavenly, Mark," she said softly. "So nice and easy. Make me feel good all over."
She brought up her knees so they popped into view through the thick layer of bubbles, She rested her left arm across the bare knee caps and then laid her head down restfully, letting other loose strands of her black hair stream into the bubbles. Her other arm trailed out of sight beneath the bubbles and water.
I decided I had nothing to lose when I heard Angela's breathing definitely becoming louder. As I always said, "Nothing ventured, nothing lain." I revolved the brush so that in a few minutes its soft tufts were massaging her skin under her arms. With her head bent forward and her left arm raised across her knees, I could see the crease that circled out from under her side to mark the utmost limits of one of her swollen honeydews. I deliberately gave that beautiful ridge a little extra pressure when I slowly brushed across it. I also began working downward into the depths of the bubble bath and the water, reaching for the line that split those nethermost cheeks pressed firmly against the bottom of the tub. I was wondering if a little rubbing at my end might not get the front end of that crack tingling with hot desire.
I was making big circles now around the great expanse of her arched back. Getting continuous special treatment on each pass was the first swelling of her left melon and that exciting wrinkle which came up around her bottom to end near the start of her pronounced backbone.
Angela had to be getting the message. I was beginning to warm up a little myself and it wasn't from my brush work. My penis felt like a snake straightened out by an electric bolt and trying to escape from its cage. I had to reach down and give my trousers a tug to be more comfortable.
Angela was getting the message. She began moaning and repeatedly telling me how good it felt. like a big kid. I felt she had just complimented on some big coup. I increased the pressure of the brush on every area of skin it passed along.
I didn't know whether to jump out of my clothes and dive in or what and could only say, "Glad you like. I aim to please."
I figured if she just would look up for a moment I would give her a fast whirl right in the damn tub even with my clothes on if necessary. By that time I was raring to go and could feel my equipment hot against the inside of my thigh. I wanted to yell to her to turn around. To look up. Just give me the word.
It was then that I noticed her right shoulder was jerking forward and back and the arm that was down in the water was rhythmically moving up and down. What the hell! I didn't get it for a minute. Then it came to me. She was taking care of herself down there with one of her fingers.
The goddamn bitch! I thought. Is that what she was doing? And me with something twice as long and three times as thick. I looked down at her. She was really beginning to heave her whole body around in the water.
"Angela, baby. Can't I help out?" I cried, my voice muffled and husky and filled with wanting her.
"No!" she replied. "Just keep brushing. Please, Mark. Don't stop. Not now. I'm right on the brink."
"Yeh, but what about me? I'm ready to pap too, just watching you and smelling you. I'm as hard as a brick. Let me toss it into you and we'll go over the falls together."
"No, Mark," she said, with even greater urgency in her voice. "No, there isn't time. I'm going to make it alone. Later maybe. Later ... later."
I saw it coming and got out of the way just in time to keep from getting all splashed to hell when Angela went on her back against the end of the tub. The receding waves pushed aside the bubbles and her huge bubbies jutted out of the water like two enflamed volcanoes. Each of them rose at least ten inches from the surface and did not touch anywhere along their entire length.
Angela thrashed about in the water, turning it into a frothing welter of bubbles. Her head went back onto the edge of the tub. Her big mouth gaped open. Her breath came hot and heavy between the even white teeth. Her left arm was flung up in the air. Her right hand was below the water. Her finger relentlessly kneaded her flesh down under the dark thatch of coarse hair visible under the surface.
I was up against the wall, taking it all in and trying to keep dry when Angela's magnificent body, her thrusting cones leading the way, burst like an arched bridge up out of the water. Holding her tremendous torso aloft only with her head pressed against the back of the tub and the balls of her feet fixed onto the bottom of the bath, she continued to work her finger in that insatiable orifice.
I could see the end coming when an expression of intense pleasure took possession of Angela's face. Her eyes appeared as though they were going to pop. She looked as though she was about to scream. The muscles and veins in her neck stood out. The fantastic fullness of her gigantic spheres were displayed to my fullest scrutiny and I gave them every look possible. I couldn't take my eyes away from that unbelievably flexible finger which had me practically hypnotized by its frantic motions between Angela's legs.
I'm still trying to figure out how I can get in on the action, what with my efforts to keep dry and the acute knowledge that Cataldo must be expecting me upstairs in his working suite, when I see Angela begin to shudder all over. The water and soap zip off her just like a dog shaking himself after coming out of the water. Her mouth looms wide open and she gives out this great moan. Scared the hell right out of me. Then she goes rigid except for her thighs which quiver like an excercising machine. Her legs spread as far apart as possible within the confines of the bathtub. Her finger drops away, its duty done.
Angela must have stayed like that for a whole minute. The mouth agape and only moans coming out. The strong round thighs quivering. The black thatch bouncing up and down and Angela still only supporting herself by the back of the head and the flat of her feet.
She looked over at me, ecstasy suffusing from every pore of her oval face. Her eyelashes flickered heavily and she emitted a low sigh. Then she gently lowered her long white body into the water.
"It was wonderful, Mark. Wonderful. You can wash my back any time," she said appreciatively, glancing at me.
"The hell with your back, Angela," I said sore as hell. "I'll do the work of your finger but with something much better. You think that was good? I'll raise you right up out of that bathtub."
"Hmmm," Angela said, staring at the pulsating bulge in my trousers. "I bet you could too, Mark. Maybe later. We'll see. Now help me out."
She motioned for a towel and I picked up a big blue Turkish one and held it for her. As I planned, she had to step out of the tub to get within its comforting folds. My eyeballs really got their fill when she stepped out of the tub. For a second there, while she had one leg out and the other still in the tub, there was a lot of space between her legs. I was sorely tempted to drop the towel and come right up under her. All that black hair, with the water trickling out of it and tiny bubbles still breaking up within its confines, made me thirsty to take a great big mouthful just like it was a sponge. In my imagination, I could almost taste it. The musky fragrance filled my nostrils.
Discretion got the better part of me and I let her step out with the other leg without grabbing for that fur cup I was so thirsty to drink from. But I made up for it a bit as she backed into the folds of the towel I was holding. As soon as she took the edges in her hands, I pulled her body to me by grasping hold of her gargantuan globes. My spread fingers hardly covered their taut fullness but I controlled them by pinching their red rooks between my thumbs and forefingers. With those big buttons in my grasp, I held her in my power. I felt the buttons stretching alive under my skin. I was getting to her. Good! After what she had done to me!
I laughed. "You'll tell Johnny. The hell you will. Not after that act you put on for me. You damn bitch! Leaving me at the gate while you go off fingering yourself to the sky."
"I couldn't help it, honest, Mark. You got me started with the brush. I don't know it always happens. I remember my mother doing it and then my roommate at college and Mary at Merrymount."
"Mary, who the hell is she?" I asked puzzled.
"Our maid out to the house. You know, you've seen her. The one who served the drinks when you were there about a month ago for the policy meeting with Johnny, Phil and the others."
I remembered then. I remembered how I had thought at the time Mary offered me the tray with the choice of a martini or a manhattan that she would be a real tumble. Yet there was something standoff about her. Devoid of make-up, she was almost manly.
"Yeh, that's all right for them," I said. "They're all females. It's different with me. I'm built differently. I'll promise you this, Angela, it won't happen again. Next time I'll jump right in with you even with my clothes on and there will be no putting me off."
Angela was rubbing herself briskly with the big towel. She raised it up to give her head a massage and the bottom edge of the towel just rested on top of the plump expanse of those big bubbies I was still holding on to and kneading with my thumbs and forefingers.
"It won't happen again, I promise, Mark," Angela said, a touch of contriteness in her voice. "But please leave off now. Johnny will be looking for us. Tell him I didn't like my dress and decided to change it. He'll understand. I do it all the time just when we are ready to leave."
"Okay, Angela," I said, relaxing my grip on those two immense melons which stretched out from her chest like two ski jumps. "But I'll be back later tonight. You make some excuse to Johnny that you have a headache and want to be alone. When all the politicking and talk is over, I'll be back and you better let me in or I'll knock you right on your big wop ass. And don't give me any Roman patrician jazz to the contrary. You've got a lot to make up to me and I plan to make it big. With this!"
I grabbed her hand and slapped it against my dying shaft, which apparently sniffed blood and came right back to its full proportions. "That's yours, baby. All of it. All eight inches. And you just better be waiting for it. Even in the bathtub if you want it there."
She looked up at me without saying a word. I could almost swear I saw a flash of hate in the depths of her large black eyes. What the hell was that for? Hell, she couldn't have been getting much of anything from Johnny. Least not that I could imagine. Unless he was taking hormone shots. Or maybe he had gone to Switzerland and had that operation or those shots of ground up goat gonads. Well, the hell with it. I was sore as a boil and I was going to spread her before the night was over.
"Just remember what I said, Angela. If you don't remember it will be thirty, baby, thirty for you."
She remained silent, obvious anger flaring within her eyes. Her lips were scornful too. Good, I like them fighting mad. Besides she would have time to cool off before I returned. And right then I had to get going.
I slammed the bathroom door behind me and walked swiftly across the soft carpet to the door of the suite. I listened. Once again the Pacific Suite was living up to its name. I expressed the hope that it would stay that way and stepped out of the apartment. Closing the door gently behind me, I straightened my tie and rearranged my jacket. My hair was quickly in place with two run-throughs of the comb.
I looked at my watch and cursed. The little episode with Angela had used up nearly a quarter of an hour. Cripes, I had to get going. The news conference was set for seven. Cataldo had to be briefed and probably handed a few cue cards like "N.C." for no comment. He was to look at that when he got a tough question. The card also told him to "smile" when he said "no comment." I'm serious.
"Where the hell have you been?" Cataldo barked as soon as I slipped into his ninth-floor suite. He never missed a trick and spotted me as soon as I came through the door. He was huddled with Kevin Tobin, his chief administrative aide and flunky, Jack Farley, a personal secretary, Tony Boffo, who was working on the city delegates, and Phil Newsome, who handled the radio and TV people and affairs under my direction.
I didn't bother to reply immediately. I don't like to talk to people across a room. It's very crude. But Johnny didn't feel that way. like I said, he has no class. It's all image and no substance.
"Hey, Mark, for cripes sakes, answer me when I ask you a question. Where the hell have you been? And for God sakes, where's Angie? I thought I told you to bring her up," he said in a heavy voice overlaid with just a veneer of an Italian accent.
"Relax, Johnny," I fired back. That's the way you've got to talk to him. Straight forward. Man-to-man. "I did just what you said. I would have been up here fifteen minutes ago except for the missus. She's all ready to come along when I go by the suite and then just like a woman she looks in the mirror and decides she doesn't like the dress she's got on. So I'm sitting out in the living room waiting for her when she yells out to me to go ahead because she still can't make up her mind what she wants to wear. So I'm late. You'll just have to blame her."
I probably wasn't a gentleman to put the onus of blame on Angela, but I was just beginning to subside in my pants and figured that it was one way to screw her.
"Okay, okay, Mark. I'll get after her. Get over here and let's see what kind of shape we're in."
I pulled up a chair and sat in with the group. The disappointment was, as usual, mirrored in Phil Newsome's face. The bastard wanted my job so badly he could taste it. Every time Cataldo chewed me out, Newsome gained renewed hope that I finally was going to get canned. I had news for him. Even if I did get bounced, he would never get the job. He just can't pull any weight. And he wouldn't know a news story if it jumped up and hit him in the kisser.
For the next ten minutes or so we studied the lists and charts we had prepared to keep account of where the delegates stood at any one moment. There were 600 delegates attending the convention and any one candidate had to have a majority to win the gubernatorial nomination. With five candidates, including Cataldo and Senator Tom Ward, seeking the nod, it meant one of them had to get at least 301 votes to win.
Our figuring and analysis showed that on the eve of the convention opening Cataldo had 295 votes for sure. Ward could probably count 294. The other three candidates were Mike Napolitano, a member of the Alcoholic Beverage Commission; Jim Swenson, a member of the House of Representatives; and Sally Fitzpatrick, a young housewife from one of the wealthy suburbs. The three of them had a total of ll votes. All we needed were six of those ll votes and we were home.
"Mark, after the news conference, you've got only one major assignment. Get after Sally Fitzpatrick and get her to throw her votes to us. I don't care how you do it just do it!" Cataldo said with a big leer on his pudgy bulldog face.
"Right, Johnny," I responded briskly, playing it like a good soldier snapping to for his commanding officer. "I've already found out, however, that she won't be in the hotel, much less the city, until tomorrow. Apparently, one of her kids is sick or something and she decided to hold off until tomorrow. But I'll be on top of her as soon as she arrives."
"Not in the lobby, I hope," Tony Boffo cracked. Tony was all right. We had made dual scenes together on several occasions. I appreciated his sense of humor and joined in the laughter.
"No, I think I'll be able to hold off until I can get her upstairs to her own suite. She's got the Alaskan Suite. I hope that doesn't mean she's an iceberg,"
"I'm sure your torch will melt her pretty fast," Tony came back. Again we all laughed. Phil Newsome's laughter was less than spontaneous. Screw him. When the convention was over I'd fix his wagon good and proper.
"Okay, okay," Cataldo blurted out. "We've had our laughs. Now lets get back to work. We've all come too far together to lose the prize in the last few hours."
Cataldo was forever repeating phrases from speeches that I had written for him. I hoped he wouldn't throw in a Kennedy quote. Coming from Cataldo, they sounded desecrated.
Jack and Tony made for the door while Phil and I stayed behind to brief Johnny in preparation for the press conference. There wasn't much to it. He was very clear on his positions on the various issues and had stock, safe answers for most any questions the news people could toss at him. But you always had to go over your ground carefully. Sometimes there would be a reporter who would figure (correctly) that we were trying to buy him with the free booze and food and just to be ornery he would come up with a tough question for our boy. Cataldo at times wasn't too quick on the uptake and would start to try and answer the question instead of resorting to his "N.C." card.
"I've gone over the list of newspaper reporters, including the State House columnists and newsmen, and Phil has checked out the radio and TV people. As far as we can determine they are all safe," I said.
"As far as you can determine..." Cataldo snarled. "This goddamn conference is live for half an hour. It would only take one s.o.b. to screw the whole deal. We've got to be sure of every damn last one."
"Well, I can tell you right now, Johnny, that my people are safe. That includes all the newspaper people and the wire services. I have to take Phil's word that the radio and TV people won't throw any bombs at you."
Phil's face reddened and I knew I had scored. Screw him. "I'll vouch for every one from my side, Johnny," Phil said, giving me a dirty look. I pursed my lips and threw him an invisible kiss.
"Okay, okay, Phil. Just remember though, I'll have your ass if you're wrong. You'll be so low on my shit-list, they'll have to jack you up to bury you. And I mean that, boy. One of those TV or radio prima donnas or homos ambushes me and I'll hang you up by your nuts from the nearest TV tower. And you'll stay there until they rip off," Cataldo leveled.
"It'll be okay, Johnny. I assure you," Phil said reassuringly.
"Let me see your list once more, Phil." I said reaching for it. He reluctantly handed it over. I quickly scanned it.
"Seems all right, Phil. But what about this Whynot broad from KCUB-TV? I'm not too familiar with her. Always seems a bit standoff-ish. like a virgin dying to lose her hymen."
I knew I had reached Phil because he responded angrily, "I said my people were all right, Mark. That includes Miss Whynot."
"Miss Whynot. La-de-dah," I jabbed him. "We are getting imagine with the members of the Fourth Estate. I hope we are not letting any personal relationship interfere with our good PR sense."
"Okay, okay," Johnny interjected. "Break it up.
Phil knows the score. He says she's okay, it's his responsibility. He's done okay this far. Now let's go in and get it over with. Go ahead. I've got to clean up a bit. Then I'll be with you guys."
"Right, Johnny. But remember, its set for seven o'clock. Little less than five minutes. We don't want to be late, not with the TV live," I pointed out. Cataldo was forever being late to his news conferences no matter how many times I told him that it set up a negative attitude in the minds of the newsmen. They didn't like to be kept waiting any more than any one else.
CHAPTER THREE
I followed Phil into the room we had set up for the news conference. Phil went over to speak to the TV and radio people while I mixed with the reporters and columnists from the newspapers and the wire services.
The large room was awash with the lights from the TV camera crowd. They were forever adjusting the lights and the reflectors. One of the TV news guys was sitting at the desk where Cataldo would shortly be squatted. It gave the cameramen a chance to adjust their lights and fix their lens openings.
While I chit-chatted with the reporters, greeting old comrades and joshing good-naturedly with them about all the money I was suppose to be making now that I was prostituting myself as a PR man, I kept looking about for some sign of Sarah Whynot. There was a lot of milling about as the hour approached and most of the news people started to take their seats.
Cataldo, the s.o.b., finally came in a minute and a half before air time like he was some sort of a matinee idol. If he had been an elected official, the governor say, everyone would have risen politely. But he was still the candidate, and although he was in the best position to win, the newsmen had no intention of deferring to him until he actually had the office sewn up.
His annoyance with their lack of what he considered proper respect flashed momentarily across his broad features, but the politician quickly donned his professional visage. As he slipped into his seat, I gave him some last-minute pointers about the angle of the cameras, his best profile (although he was sure he was God from either side), and the plea to for cripes sake pause and gather his thoughts for a moment before replying to any question. The idea, I reminded him, was to use up the TV half hour as painlessly as possible. The flubs he made during that period were the ones that would register the strongest with the electorate. Any boo-boos he made after the cameras shut down were beautifully minimized by the lack of any audience except the news people themselves. And the fact was that what they had to say had no where near the effect created by the boob-tube.
"Where's the Whynot broad?" Johnny snarled, smiling all the while.
"I don't know. I've been trying to pinpoint her. I'll get to her though and try to hold her back from any loaded questions," I replied, really ticked off now with Phil. Where had he disappeared to? He better be with the Whynot dame or I'd have his ass.
I gave Johnny a reassuring pat on his heavy shoulders and slipped down off the dais to weave my way through the throng of news people to the back of the room. I was still on my way when the red lights on the front of the TV cameras flared up to show Cataldo he was on the air. Hank Gale, a friend from the wires, popped up to ask the first question. It was an easy one because he owed me a lot of favors.
Unable to spot her in the crowd, I took a standing position against the wall to the rear to keep a close eye on things. Everything was going beautifully. The reporters were in a gay mood after the booze and food and did not press very closely with their questions. Cataldo also was in especially good form and kept his answers brief and to the point so that he wouldn't get himself entrapped.
I couldn't have asked for a better set up. Cataldo looked good up behind the desk. The monitoring TV sets around the room also showed that he was coming across effectively. He made a good image on TV so that meant thousands of viewers at home were getting a good picture of him. All politician now, his expression was one of quiet determination, efficiency, and good old-fashioned common sense. His voice was a bit syrupy, a bit patronizing. But nobody else seemed to be getting that impression because I didn't notice any of the news people elbowing each other and passing looks that mean: get him. I figured I was probably being too critical, especially since I had so much at stake. I relaxed.
But not for long. There couldn't have been more than four minutes left in the half hour when I heard the flat nasal voice of a New England female and automatically cringed. Sarah Whynot! Here it came. I should have known things were going too well.
I glanced frantically about, and then spotted her standing tall and stately between two of the TV cameras. No wonder I hadn't been able to fix her position earlier. She had been hidden by the cameras, boxes of equipment and tie TV crews.
I was trying to be discreet as possible squirming my way through the crowded room when I heard the Whynot broad again call for Cataldo's attention. I expressed the quick hope that he would have enough sense to ignore her urgings. But she was obviously determined to be recognized.
"Mr. Cataldo. Mr. Cataldo. Sir." She kept intoning. "A question please. I would Kke to know about the report that your brother Charles would possibly be appointed to the post of Commissioner of Finance and Administration if you're elected?"
Oh brother, I groaned. Where was this broad getting her information? It was pretty good. Cataldo was thinking of putting his brother Charles in that post. The fact that Charlie was an insipid fool and an incompetent made no difference. With Cataldo, blood was thicker than water. It may have been admirable from his viewpoint, but from the PR outlook it could be disastrous.
Cataldo was still stalling when I nearly fell over Jack Haley, an old friend from the A.P.
"Jack," I said, bending over and whispering in his ear, "get her off his back. Ask him how he stands with the administration in Washington on Viet Nam."
Jack's a sharp boy and was up in a flash. It was his beautiful, big, booming voice that chattered the room, drowning out the pleas of the Whynot bitch.
"Mr. Cataldo, could you tell us please whether you agree or disagree with the White House position on Viet Nam, and if you disagree would you tell us in what specific areas?"
Cataldo was fast on the uptake and quickly launched into a reply to Jack's question. I had to fight to hold back the smirk that wanted to possess my face. I watched the Whynot chick out of the corner of my eye and she was steaming. The hell with her. I had a job to do and I wasn't about to let some virgin out of Boston screw up my deal. Not on television anyway.
Cataldo gave his stock reply on Viet Nam. The one that placed him four square with the White House and the American Legion on that touchy issue. Then he gave me the "thirty" look, and I automatically exclaimed, "Thank you, Mr. Cataldo."
Cataldo had seen a lot of White House news conferences on TV and was impressed by the way the senior correspondent always concluded the questioning with the remark, "Thank you, Mr. President." Maybe he thought he would be in the White House some day, the silly dreamer.
The red lights blinked off on the TV cameras and the news people all started moving about. Most of them rising and stretching and talking noisily among themselves. I went right up to Cataldo and put myself at his side to head off any further questioning by any eager-beavers as he headed out of the room and back to the suite.
We were only a few feet from the door when I heard the Whynot dame calling, "Mr. Cataldo. Mr. Cataldo. Please, Sir. Just a moment. Can't you answer my question?"
I gave Johnny a nudge forward, whispered that I would handle her, and turned about to block her way.
Man, was she mad. Her face, which probably was fairly comely if she'd take off the heavy tortoise-shell glasses and wear a little make-up, was vivid. The way she came at me reminded me of a northeast storm scudding down the coast from the Gulf of Maine and ready to slam ashore. Well, let her come, I'd fix her good.
"Mr. Vista. I must protest, sir. I ... "
"Yes, miss, can I help you. I don't believe we've met," I said innocently. Immediately, I sensed I had taken some of the wind out of her sails: Actually I couldn't see how she was trimmed with the two-piece beige suit she had on it. The material was rather heavy, possibly even wool and was far from form-fitting. All these Yankess think they've got enough inbred class to make up for lousy grooming and poor tailoring. They come on with their Brahman accent and think you're going to respond with a lot of bowing and scraping. Screw 'em, I say. I've seen enough of them on the East Coast. Most of them are phonies. All they've got is a la-dee-dah voice and memories of past grandeur. They are cold and lifeless and without any emotions. Any I've jumped between the sheets with have been dull plowing. You get more action by yourself, with the gatefold beauty from Playboy.
"I'm Sarah Whynot," she said in a voice that implied that I must be an idiot not to recognize her.
"Oh, how nice," I replied, giving her some of her own medicine. I could play that Yankee type with the best of them. "What can I do for you, Miss Whynote?"
"Whynot," she said regally. "Whynot."
"Whynot what?" I said, really sticking it to her.
"No, my dear man, Whynot. Sarah Whynot, that's my name." She said it like everyone in America was familiar with it rather than a small group of relatives from Cape Cod.
"Oh, yes, Miss Whynot, how unusual. But please, I am not your good man. I'm Mr. Cataldo's press secretary. Are you with the news media?"
With that last question, she really looked like she was going to tee off on me. Funny thing, the madder she got the more attractive she appeared. The legs looked well-turned from what I could see of them from about an inch above the knee downward. At least she was almost in style in that department. And she was tall too with her high heels, and she was looking me practically in the eyes. Her eyes were a pale blue. At the moment, they looked like two ice cubes with sapphires for pupils.
"I happen to be with KCUB-TV, Mr. Vista. I would think any responsible press secretary would be aware of the names of the local news people," she said, figuring apparently that she had gained a point.
"Oh, yes, of course," I responded, deciding to calm her down a bit. "I'm familiar with the station and your name. It's just that I've never had this opportunity to put the face with the name."
I could see that she was becoming somewhat mollified, and I continued to soft soap her.
With the news conference over and the free bar closed, the room was rapidly clearing out. Only the TV and radio technicians remained to break down their equipment and pack it away before going on to their next assignment.
"Well now that we got the introductions straightened out," I said with a straight face, "What can I do for you?"
Sarah was still far from placated. She knew she had been conned, but as a lady, and there was no doubt that she did have class-that's one thing Yankees don't usually have in abundance and something a lot of us could use a lot of she couldn't possibly acknowledge such action. To accuse me of it was unthinkable by her standards. She'd just put me down as no gentleman and let it go at that.
"I had hoped, Mr. Vista, that I could get Mr. Cataldo's reactions to the reports that he plans to name his brother as Commissioner of Finance and Administration if elected governor."
"There's no need of calling me 'Mr. Vista,' " I said in my best PR manner. "Please call me Mark. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other during the convention and I can't see any reason why we have to be so formal. Do you?"
I got just the glimmer of a polite smile from her. Now that she was calmed down a bit I could see the female in her taking a closer scrutiny of my build and threads. I was confident that I passed muster in both departments. Yankees admire tall lean men and my style of dress. They should, as far as I was concerned, since I deliberately used their men folk for my model of behavior and clothes.
"All right, Mark it is," she said in a voice that had an entirely new quality in it. "And why don't you call me Sarah."
"Fine, Sarah," I said feeling good all over and mentally chalking up another conquest to my winning personality. I decided to push our new relationship further.
"How about a drink, Sarah? You must be ready for one."
I think about then I started to get the faintest inkling that she was putting on because she flashed me the most innocent of smiles and quickly accepted my offer. Somehow her sudden turnabout in character seemed slightly put on.
"I'd love something. How about a whiskey?" she said enthusiastically.
"Great," I said, leading her by the arm up to the bar. There was just the two of us now in the room. "How do you want it. With ginger ale, soda or water."
Sarah looked me square in the eyes and with just a touch of grimness in her voice said matter-of-factly, "Straight. And make it a double, please."
I like to think I'm pretty cool and can react to just about any situation without showing any emotion. But I'm afraid I failed dismally on that occasion. My jaw I'm sure dropped a couple of inches. And like a schoolboy, I couldn't but help repeating what she had requested, "Straight?" I gulped, audibly.
"Why yes, Mark, straight. You know all we news people drink our whiskey straight. Did you think for any reason that I would like mine differently? Those winters in New England are rather long and cold, and you naturally develop a taste for it that way."
I couldn't help wondering what else she had developed a taste for during those long cold winters. I recalled that 'bundling' used to be a great sport among the early settlers of that region of the country. Nothing better on a cold day or night to tumble in the quilts with a prissy maiden. Course they had to hang on tight to a prayer book while they went at it.
I just murmured, "Oh," and poured her a stiff belt of Canadian Club. If she wanted to get a glow on, I was all for it. She might even prove interesting. By that time, I was curious indeed to see what that fair New England maiden wore under her suit. Probably wool snuggies and cotton wrappings to flatten her plum-sized knobs. A couple of double shots and she'd probably unpeel of her own free will.
Sarah took the proffered glass, wished me "Sante," and downed it without a pause. I was just sipping my J & B Rare and nearly choked when I saw the way she downed her booze. I had visions of her getting sick all over the place. But not Sarah. She just gave me a lovely smile and handed me her glass.
"How about one more, Mark? I'm really thirsty. Then I have a proposition for you," she cooed.
"Yeh, sure," I said. By that time you could have knocked me over with the wing of a butterfly. My mind was in a turmoil. Was this broad for real? I kept asking. She downed her booze like a truck driver. She was as serene appearing and as composed as ever. Screw her, smart bitch. I'd give her a good one and then get a look at those wool panties.
I loaded her glass and handed it to her. She took it without a murmur. Usually a broad knows when you are trying to get her loaded so you can put it to her where she-likes it best. Sarah wasn't blind. She couldn't help noticing that I had given her what must have been at least a triple shot, yet she never commented about it.
"C'mon, Mark, drink up now. I'm already one up on you. Bottoms up, hey what?" she said coyly.
I was trying to figure out the significance of the 'bottoms up' remark when she tilted back her head, put the glass to her lips, and poured the whiskey in an unbroken flow down her throat. Just for a moment, I got all sexy watching how wide she could open her mouth. I imagined me over her and that big mouth and all those white teeth parted and waiting for it. Yummy, as Lita would say. I could feel her teeth gently closing first on it and then the velvet softness of her pale lips touching down and moving up and down on it.
The crazy broad really had guts. I like to think of myself as tough as the next guy. And in the paratroops both at Fort Campbell and Benning and overseas with the 187th I've seen some big drinkers. But that Whynot broad would hold her own with any of them. She never blinked a tear or so much as furtively burped. I began to feel like a fag, so I hoisted my first drink and quickly downed it.
Sarah put her drink down. She had this sort of funny expression on her face. The expression that I always figured wives wore when they had the goods of their husbands' philandering.
"You look like you're one up on me," I said, deciding to call her. Damned if I knew what she was up to.
"Well, I'm going to put it to you straight, Mark," she said, a trace of toughness creeping into her voice.
"Quite frankly, you did me out of a story tonight. But I still want it. So I've got a proposition to make you. Game?"
Sure I was game. This kooky broad wanted to play games, I was all for it. Besides she had me so damned curious. I'd go along just to find out what she was up to.
"Yeh, I'm game, Sarah. Always."
"Here's the proposition. Now don't stop me," she said, waving away any interruptions, although I had no intention of breaking in to her pitch. "You're a typical male. And like most of your kind, you think you're a fairly rugged character. So here's my deal. We fight. Whoa," she interjected. "No interruptions, remember. You and I go alone into a room in this hotel within fifteen minutes and we fight barehanded. No blows. I don't want either of us marked up. Judo, wrestling, anything you want. If I pin you down, you get me into see Cataldo alone so I can put my questions to him. If you win, and let me make it clear that I haven't met a man yet that has been able to put me down, you can have yourself a feast on a fresh cherry. And I'll put my heart and soul into helping you eat it. How's that?" she concluded, looking at me with determination and a touch of bravado in her icy blue eyes.
To say I was taken aback, would be the understatement of the year. But cripes, I was enthralled by her proposition. I had never had such a proposition. I knew I was pretty good. I didn't spend three years with the paratroopers and thirteen months in Korea and not learn a few tricks on how to toss someone with a little effort.
"Okay," I said, "you're on. Bare hands. No weapons. No vases, bottles, or anything else you can reach. But I promise you, Sarah, I'll take you on your word.
When I put you down, you're going to get a belly full and you'll be limping around with a sore pussy for a week. I'll make you scream for me to stop."
"All right, Mark, enough of the talk. Let's get down to business. Give me your room number and I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Then let's have one more drink to us."
I gave her the number, checked my watch, and poured us a drink. I hesitated at the single-shot mark, but she signaled me to go to the three-shot level. I mean, what the hell. I didn't want to take advantage of some wayout broad. For myself, I poured about a shot and a half and gave it a dash of soda.
"Here's to you, Sarah. And here's to your little fruit cup. I'm going to be taking the wrapper off it within half an hour."
I was really intrigued by then, I added, "Are you really still a virgin? Cripes, you must be all of twenty-seven by now."
"I'm twenty-six, Mark. And I'm as firm as an eighteen-year-old as you'll see shortly. Frankly, I almost wished you were the man that would put me down. I bet you could really give me something to remember. But that sentiment aside, I'm coming at you with no holds bared."
Again she downed her drink without a break. I followed suit. She picked up her notebook, placed it in her handbag, and made her farewell.
"You now have about twelve minutes, Mark. When you hear three light raps, open the door. Then close it right behind you and prepare to defend yourself. Make sure though that the door is locked. I don't want any interruptions. I suggest you pull the shades and kick off your shoes."
"I'll kick off more than that, Sarah, before I'm through with you," I said chuckling.
"We'll see, big man," she said, and ducked out the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER SHE LEFT, I WALKED IN TO SEE CATALDO. PHIL was in there with a couple of characters who obviously were delegates. Additionally, they looked as queer as he did. I wondered what Phil would think if he knew the go-around his dear Miss Whynot and I were going to get into within a few minutes. He'd probably blow his panties.
Cataldo already had left. But everything was okay, according to Phil. The boss had been pleased with the outcome of the news conference. The first phone calls were very favorable. Cataldo didn't know but I always had friends who owed me favors call in and say what a wonderful impression he had made. It's part of the PR game. Phil said Cataldo wanted to work on any wavering delegates and then to meet with him about ten o'clock. That was great as it would give me plenty of time to pluck the fruit from Sarah's satchel.
Once out in the corridor, I made a dash for the elevator and waited impatiently for it to arrive. Less than eight minutes to go. Back in my room, I quickly stripped down, tossed all my clothes in a bedroom chair, and got into the shower.
I let it run good and hot for a few minutes and then gradually turned on the cold water. It was invigorating, shockingly so. The frigid water had the old blood pulsing in torrents through my system. A brisk rubdown with a Turkish towel soon had my skin glowing. A glance in the mirror showed me what I always liked to see. I had a nice build. That's a fact. I'd be a phony to say differently.
I picked up my watch from the toilet seat. Four minutes to go. I did some isometric exercises in front of the mirror to loosen up. I always got a kick out of seeing the muscles ripple across my chest and stomach and along the length of my arms.
I kept thinking about what a silly broad Sarah was and how I was going to put her down easily and then climb aboard. She must have been out of her mind with that story. Truth was that she was probably hot to trot and that was the excuse her Puritan conscience forced her to make to justify making it with me. She could have her scruples, as long as I had the screwing.
With only two-minutes remaining, I brushed my teeth and gave my hair a few run-throughs with the comb. As afterthought, I put a little cologne in my palms and slapped it under my arms. Wouldn't want to offend anyone.
I started to slip into my shorts, then said the hell with it. Instead I rummaged in my suitcase and came up with a pair of briefs I wear when sunning either in a gym or outdoors. They just about covered me. I was imagining how shocked Sarah would be when I heard the light tapping at the door. I picked up my bathrobe, slipped into it, and dashed for the door, barefooted like she suggested.
My sitting room, which I figured was as good as place as any for our jousting because of the fluffy rug on the floor, was softly illuminated with just one lamp on an end table. I didn't want to scare Sarah off with a lot of bright light. She might have a couple of freckles she was self-conscious about.
I no sooner had the door opened a few inches than Sarah pushed against it and quickly darted into the room like an elusive ghost in a white suede raincoat. As I heard her cross the room behind me, I shut the door and silently shot home the bolt just like I figured to do with my own within a few minutes. I was sure, though, that it wouldn't go home so easy or so quietly. Well, that was tough on her but the proposition was not my idea.
I turned around. She was at the far end of the room, standing tall on three-inch spike heels. I couldn't remember if she had been wearing them before. If she had, I certainly had missed how nice her legs were shaped. Small in the ankles and flaring up to the calves. Class, good breeding, it always showed in the legs. Sarah's colonial ancestors could be proud of this descendant of theirs.
She didn't seem to be the least bit surprised finding me in my bathrobe. Without a word, she reached up, pulled out two huge combs and her hair, which had been tightly coiled and fixed close to her head in a bun, unfolded and fell about half way down her back. She tossed her head a few times, apparently to straighten out the long tresses. Her eyes, which appeared darker in the dim light, flashed a mysterious challenge. Her mouth parted in what could only be a sneer. Why the goddamn bitch really thought she was going to win.
"Are you ready, Mark?" she said as though questioning my courage.
"Any time you are, Sarah, old girl."
Her sole response was a slight smile. Then as though she were the most uninhibited creature in the world, she unbuttoned the raincoat, dropped her shoulders and let it plop at her feet.
I almost croaked on the spot. The figure was fantastic. Her clear unmarked skin was stretched taut over one of the most fantastic bodies I have ever seen.
It was the outfit that did it. Up top she wore a white T-shirt that must have been two sizes too small for her. It was obviously tailored as it clung skin tight to her from the neck down to the tiny wasp-like waist. In front it was pulled almost porous by thoese two incredible bubbies that looked like the war heads on a pair of bazookas. And I could tell by just looking, even in that lousy light, that only good living, good breeding, and exercise were holding them up in that firing position.
I actually began to tremble at the sight of them. I couldn't wait for her to fire 'em off and shoot me in the chest with them. What a way to die. My mouth dried up almost instantly and my briefs felt much too small for that big snake that had just been hit by another lightning bolt.
When I finally got down below the waist, I saw that the T-shirt was tucked into a white-pleated linen skirt that didn't fall much more than three-inches below that blessed mound marking the spot where her two beautifully molded legs came together.
I was snapped out of my reverie by Sarah's harsh laugh. "Don't count your cherries, Mark," she practically snarled, "until you're man enough to pick them. Lord, I hope you are. But if you are, you're going to have to make it the hard way."
I decided to give her tit for tat, and with a supercilious leer on my face, I quickly shucked off my bathrobe. The effect on Sarah was instantaneous. Her blue eyes sparkled and widened. Her mouth opened and I could see her swallowing hard. She was taking all of me in and when her inspection touched and fixed on my manly bulge she started shaking all over. Her legs trembled in the high heels. Unconsciously she began gyrating her hips ever so slightly as though she was already taking me to her.
"You're awfully vulnerable, you know, Mark. One good kick in that big thing sticking out in front and you're finished," she gasped.
"You just try, Sarah. The way I see it that thing is going to be sticking into your sheath and giving you some heavenly kicks within a few minutes. And I'm going to love it."
She didn't bother to reply but sauntered across the room, rocking just a bit on the heels. Man, the way her cheeks revolved as she approached. And the dimensions of those warheads thrust further and further out in front as she neared me. The knobs on the ends must have been pushed out a good inch or so. I could feel my stiff knob getting wet.
My concentration on her tremendous form was almost my undoing. Sarah had approached to within four feet and one minute she was just standing there, letting me feast my eyes on all the yummies, and in the next second she almost floored me with one blow. She suddenly shifted all her weight to her left foot and launched her right foot in a crippling blow at my erector set.
Only my instinct saved me. Something clicked in an inner recess of my mind when I noticed one of her big bubbies suddenly drop about half an inch below the level of the other. Even as her lovely leg shot up to floor me, I was twisting away to my own right while my left hand came up to grasp her leg. I managed to get my whopping tool out of the line of fire. But I didn't escape unharmed. Her pointed toe caught me in the rump and nearly shocked me to death. I fought back the urge to scream and lunged for her foot. I failed to get a good grip but did manage to twist the heel as it was descending.
Off balance on one foot, Sarah fanned the air with her arms to remain up. Even as she struggled to stay on her feet, I knew I was in for an exceptional treat. I saw it when I flicked her heel. Her super-miniskirt flared up and I didn't need glasses to see that Sarah wasn't wearing any panties. And my briefs threatened to split wide open when I also saw that Sarah had shaved herself, exposing the gash of my heart's delight.
In that split second when her skirt shot up, I took it all in with eyes that nearly popped out of their sockets. Her sweet scabbard was deforested and lay bare and yawning before me. I swore it winked at me before her leg began its downward arc and the skirt fell back over her rounded hips.
Sarah was right. She did have a body like an eighteen-year-old girl. There wasn't a sliver of extra flesh on her fantastic body. Her skin was so taut, you could almost hear it stretching every time she moved.
Sarah lost her struggle to stay up when I rather crudely gave her a straight finger job below her headlights. She fell backward, black anger playing across her face, and landed hard on her firm cheeks. But the momentum tumbled her on to her back. Her head struck the floor, apparently stunning her.
I moved in fast, not sure if she wasn't feigning to fake me out with another one of her cute savage kicks. She lay sprawled out on the rug, her legs at a wide angle and the hem of her skirt curled up and resting on her flat belly. In that position, I got a closer, longer and unobstructed look at those beautiful loin lips that had never been kissed.
It was breathtaking. She must've given herself a fast clean shave just before she arrived. Her skin was pink and smooth right up to the soft rising edges where they folded over to dip into her groin. The skin glistened even in the dim light. Sarah had spread oil around that sacred spot. My hands itched to oil her up even more.
"Oh, Mark," she cried. "My head hurts. Please give me a hand up."
I got a little scared. What if she was hurt badly? Poor kid. I bent over and offered her my hand. Quick as a flash, she seized my hand with her right one while her left hand caught my arm at the elbow. The next moment I was flying through the air over her head. I've made a lot of hard falls in my life and surprised as I was I still instinctively tucked my head down, spread my hands and took the impact on my shoulders before quickly rolling over on my thighs.
Without even seeing her I knew Sarah was on her feet and rushing me. All right, you smart little bitch, you asked for it. You're just another gook as far as I'm concerned, I decided. And that was the way she was going to get treated. No more fooling around.
While my body was still shaking off the shock of the impact, I was rolling forward and up and twisting around with my hands and arms in the judo defensive position. Just as well because Sarah was already springing on me. I blocked her deadly straight finger thrusts and chops and then gave her an old-fashioned American backhander across the face. The blow was short and vicious. It whipped her head around.
"You bastard you," she snarled. No face blows, remember?"
"I remember, baby. Don't worry. I'm a master at those. It won't show. Now you bitch I'm going to finish you off."
Sarah dashed backward. She was all animal now. The eternal female. Her blood lust was up. Her hands reached down, pulled the T-shirt from the skirt and quickly pulled it off over her head. I gasped at the sight of her great red-tipped tits as they bobbed stiffly out in front of her. I could have been easily hypnotized by their weaving and gyrating, but I knew that was just what Sarah wanted. I'd get to those powerful beauties on my own in a moment.
Sarah pushed out her chest to thrust those pointed cones even further forward. It was amazing to see the way they pointed right at you like a couple of rockets. I decided to get in the act and tugged off my briefs. Sarah's eyes bulged even wider at the unhindered view of my meat.
I could just see my own rocket waving away down below me as I shifted and ducked her jabs and incessant kicks. I'll have to admit that I was beginning to enjoy it. She was good, but I knew I had the edge as long as I didn't get too cocky. I'd finish her off in a minute. But for now it was great to see the positions that glistening love nest would assume as her long legs lunged again and again for my groin.
"You get me on the tip or in those love nuts and you won't feel me throbbing inside your guts, Sarah," I said mockingly.
"I'll break it right off if I get the chance," she replied, her breath coming heavier now.
I teased her by jumping back and then grabbing my work tool and waving it at her. "Look what you can have, Sarah. All of it. Must be eight or nine inches. What do you say?"
"Screw you, you bastard. I want that story," she snarled.
Enough was enough so on her next kick for my jewels, I caught her foot and held it up over my left shoulder. She started to fall over, balanced only on the right shoe but I caught her hand and kept her up. She was strong, but I haven't been exercising and lifting weights for years to let any broad, even Wonder Woman, put me down.
"You s.o.b., " she screamed, "let me down!" But I continued to hold her left leg up over my shoulder and her right hand in a wrestling lock. She couldn't move and I'll tell you, man, it was just beautiful, spread out before me in all its beauty. My old thing just straightened out more and began twanging up and down. I couldn't blame it. The tool was closer to that moist fold than my thinking apparatus.
"You've lost, Sarah. Lost, with a capital L," I said going forward to lick the ends of her bobbing cones with my hot tongue. They tasted delicious and those knobs were enormous between my lips as I gently caressed them.
"Lost nothing," Sarah said, trying to chop me behind the neck with her free left hand. But I could feel her tensing for the blow with my hands gripping her leg and right arm high. I ducked away and applied pressure to my lock on her right hand. She emitted a low cry of agony.
"Okay then relax, sweetheart, and you won't get hurt ... except where you're going to love. Try that once more and I'll break your fingers right off."
I lifted her left leg even higher and pushed her right arm to the side. I could see the muscles in her right leg straining and rippling with the entire weight of her curved body. I moved in so my chest was brushing against the tips of those enormous boobs. I wiggled my chest back and forth to excite her tips. They began to redden around the aureoles and the tips swelled and pushed out further.
Down below I was lining my great piece up for its entrance. I could see Sarah's eyes widen as she saw the rigid rapier inching toward her hairless wonder-slit. I could see the fear in the pale blue eyes, but I also saw the anticipation. I mean, what the hell, twenty-seven did she say? No one should go that long without their share, no matter how much of a blueblood they thought they were, from Boston or wherever on the East Coast..
My throbbing whang touched her flesh and she jerked, but I held her steady. I bent my knees to get it properly lined up and left the end of it rub up and down just in front of her gleaming opening. My thing was like a separate part. I needed to use all my will powers and loin muscles to hold it back. like a dog in heat, it wanted to jump right on.
"You are for it now, Sarah. See that? Every inch of it shortly is going to be in you. We're going to be one you and I and you're never going to forget it. As long as you live, you'll remember this night and that it was Mark Vista who first screwed you."
"Oh, Mark, oh Mark," was all she could say. "You're a real man. Be gentle with me. But don't leave anything out. I want it all. Ever bit of it. And don't use anything. I want to feel your liquid heat pouring into me. Fill me up with you."
Another look downward where my big prong trembled showed me she was ready as she would ever be. The oil she had applied to herself had been joined by nature's and it was bubbling up from within her and gently rolling out from the lower corner of that incredible orifice. The virginal odor of that hot wet nest filled the air and made me slightly light-headed.
I shook my head to clear it and then ever so deliberately moved my powerful jack handle up against her, centering it between those oily lips that by then had rolled back to welcome my initial thrust. Both of us were like spectators rather than participants as we stared downward to watch the drama being enacted below between my knocking shift stick and her gear box.
The big knobby red head of my shaft, the tip wet and oily itself, then was paused at Sarah's slash. She looked up at me and nodded. I dropped her leg slightly and pushed forward. like curtains, the edges of her hot lips folded back and welcomed my rigid erector piece with welcome and steaming arms. As every inch of me ripped slowly into her, like a big snake entering its hole, I gently lowered her leg toward the floor. Four inches were out of sight when I felt her tense resistance. We both looked at each other and then down. I pushed repeatedly. It was like my tool was beating up against a drum head.
Sarah had begun moaning and a bit of drool trickled from her mouth. "Break it, Mark, break it, lover. Split it apart, split it apart, lover man. Don't cheat me of all of you."
I dropped her leg to the floor and released her right hand. Then I reached behind her and took both firm cheeks, squeezed them, and dropped my hands to the back of her thighs. I took a big breath and lifted her right up off the floor.
"Wrap those beautiful legs around me, Sarah," I ordered. "Hold me tight around the back."
She did what I told her with great haste. Her taut melons hit me in the chest. Then holding her close to me I bent forward and then quickly arched way back.
Sarah screamed just briefly as my huge pulsating cock pierced her membrane and shot its full length into her. "Oh, Mark, how wonderful. Oh, what a man, you are. It hurts, but its beautiful and I love it All of it. Give it to me good. Pound me to hell. I want to be sore for days."
Clasping her fevered body to me and keeping my joint firmly in place, I walked across the room and then gently lowered our glued bodies to the divan. Even on her back, those mountainous melons remained posed for takeoff.
Man she was tight. I could feel the walls of her all along the length of me as I went at it. It was as though her box had stopped developing at about age fourteen. I'd be lucky to last very long. But what the hell, we'd do it again and I'd go for half an hour or until when she screamed for the jet juices.
Sarah squirmed under me. I stopped for a moment and raised myself up. She lifted her head and then watched for a while as I put it in and out in slow motion. Every once in a while I'd leave her completely and she'd begin groaning and moaning and so from about a foot and a half away I'd line it up and shoot forward. Peter would slam into her and she'd go right out of her ever-loving mind.
Then she started shaking all over and I knew she was going to make it. I went at it like a jack hammer so I could go off with her. She hit it ahead of me with a loud wail. To silence her I left off kissing her melons and stuck my tongue into her open mouth to begin a sloshy wrestling match with hers. Her breath was surprisingly hot and her nostrils flared as she fought for breath. Then she hit it again and again.
I could hear her calling to me even while our lips were stuck together. "Oh, Mark, it's wonderful. Oh, why did I wait all these years? A finger is no substitute for what you got. Here I go again! This must be what heaven is like."
I didn't have heaven on my mind at that exact moment as I could feel my own love juices priming up for their race to paradise. "I'm going to come. Soon now, Sarah. Hold me close. Love me, hold me close. My juices are going to be part of you in just a moment."
"Oh, yes, yes, Mark," she groaned in ecstasy. "Give them to me. It's the very first time. Fill me up. I want to feel those hot juices streaming into me."
"Okay, Sarah," I said, gasping by then. "I'm on my way. Here I go. Right to the moon. I'm coming. Right now. It's pouring through me. Now! Now!"
I gave out a low scream of pleasure as my juices jetted from my connector into her hungry cup. I jerked and jerked as they flowed out of my pipe and into her cistern.
"Fill me up, Mark, fill me up. Keep coming, baby. Don't stop."
With my toes dug into the big divan pillows I kept whacking away at her. Again and again my throb-her would withdraw about six inches and then slam back into those eager lips. And with each thrust, another stream of hot juices spurted into her.
I was just out of it. It was as though there was a hand inside Sarah and it was milking me without letup. That's how tight she was and how good she was using it. She must have been practicing for a long time. I gave her one last spray and nearly out of my mind flopped my face down on her bouncing bubbies.
"Oh, Mark," Sarah said, her eyes filled with delight and womanly satisfaction, "you have no idea how I feel. What a sensation! That big thing of yours pounding away and then those hot juices ... I just can't tell you how good it was." She paused and then asked sort of like a little girl, "Can we do it again, Mark?"
"Sure, baby, let's just take a break. Why don't you get us a drink and then we'll go at it again. I've got a few tricks to show you."
And that's the way we spent our time until almost ten o'clock when I checked back with Johnny.
CHAPTER FIVE
JOHNNY WAS A LITTLE LATE GETTING BACK TO HIS suite by ten o'clock so I checked our progress with Phil for the next day. He assured me the radio and TV people would give us every extra bit of coverage possible. But he sounded a warning about the pressure Senator Tom Ward was putting on, mostly through the efforts of Lita, my love. I had been getting the same reports from my newspaper and wire service boys. Tom had treated them to a real bash, which according to Phil was still going on down on the fifth floor.
I got to work fast and told Phil to call the room and drop the word to the news people that our bar was back open and swinging. At the same time, I called some hustlers I knew and told them to get up to the playroom right away. Ward wanted to play rough, we would play the same way. I'd show him a few tricks before I was through. Room service next assured me that it would rush plenty of chow up to the suite too so the news people could have a late snack.
Phil and I were again going over the plans for the next day when Cataldo walked in. Without a hello, he wanted to know what we had been up to. I quickly filled him in. He approved instantly when I told him I had reopened the bar and ordered up the girls and the food. He was hip enough to know these things had to be done. Price at this point meant nothing. The votes were the only thing that counted now that the die was cast.
"How we set for tomorrow, Mark?" Cataldo demanded.
"We're in good shape. Phil says the radio and TV people will make every effort to carry your nominating speeches and your own speech in full. Tom Ward, of course, is also chasing the same guarantees. But maybe we can fix it for a couple of cameras to kick out when he gets up to speak.
"I've also distributed," I added, "more than two-hundred press kits, including your complete biography, your position papers, and news releases and photographs. We've got another couple of hundred which we will spread around. Additionally, I've arranged for a six-foot by eight-foot photo of you to be put up in back of the stage. It is about twice as big as any of the other candidates. We'll also try to squeeze you on to a couple of radio and TV talk shows during the day, depending how much free time, if any, you have available. We'll have to play that possibility by ear. In any case, all of the interviewers are in the bag and will ask questions you can answer off the top of your head. So don't sweat it in case you do work those shows into the schedule."
Cataldo nodded approvingly. "What else now? Is that it?"
"I suggest you rise early and go for a long walk before breakfast. I'll alert some newsmen and photographers. It will give the delegates and the public the idea that you're a hard worker and extremely vigorous. The youthful image is everything, today. So be sure to stroll right along and talk like you do it all the time. Look at the mileage Harry Truman has got out of those early morning walks."
I could see Cataldo was quite impressed with my idea. He continued to nod in approval. I, of course, was setting the seeds in his mind for him to get to bed early. I hadn't forgotten my promise to get back to Angela. My mind was still full of visions of her big black hairy tart. If it was the last thing I did, despite all the goodies I had deposited in Sarah's bank, I was going to wind up the day munching on that Italian pastry. I intended to squeeze the juice right out of it.
Whew, I had to put those ideas away for a while. Right now I had to concentrate on my PR work. Sex is mighty important but so is money. Sex and money, they are what makes the world go around. Everything else is baloney. You haven't got them, you've got nothing. And it may surprise you, but with me money comes first. Without it you have little chance for a varied and big sex life. With money you can make the scene with all kinds of broads. You haven't got the dough-re-mi, you can't keep up. You can't make the scene. You can't keep well-groomed and buy the proper threads. When you've got the moolah, you're in action. Sex will follow even if you're an ugly s.o.b. See how far you get with the broads without it. Even a bag wants you to buy her a beer before you put the make on her. Yeh, it's money and sex that are the greatest motivations in the world. Everything else is crap. It's opium for the masses to keep them from trying to rise above their lot. Let them cling to their ideals of patriotism, integrity, honor, religion, and all the rest. It keeps them satisfied with their lot so the real wheelers and dealers can make it big without a lot of competition.
"Yeh, Mark. I like that idea. Yeh, it's good. Probably could have some footage on the noon TV news shows and then on the front pages of the early afternoon editions. You're really using your head. The public should eat it. Maybe I'll even do a little jogging," Cataldo mused.
"Not too fast, Johnny," I kidded. "We don't want you to pop a blood vessel."
The goddamn fool more than-likely would have a heart attack but Cataldo like most people in this youth-conscious country doesn't like to be reminded he's not a kid any more.
"Incidentally, Johnny," I interjected, "I've had all your remarks put on cards with the speech typewriter. That way you'll be able to read them without wearing eyeglasses. The print will be plenty big. I'd also like to suggest that it might be time for another touch-up on the hair. The sideburns are beginning to show the gray hairs. And try to hold your head up on TV. With the bright lights, sometimes you get the impression your hair is thinning on top."
"Okay, okay, Mark. Good. I'll get after that touch-up right away. Phil, get Luigi up here. Might as well have a light trim," he said a bit brusquely. He knew it was all good advice but didn't like his age being pointed out to him. Screw him. That's what he was paying me for. He could play the kid to the public. Strive for the youthful image. But if he didn't want to hear the truth from his closest advisers, then he was just wasting good money paying us. It's a smart political candidate who can muffle his ego and listen to sound counsel.
"That's it for tonight," he added, looking at Phil and I for agreement. "I'll see you both at breakfast. Let's make it eight o'clock in the Pilgrim Lounge. And, Mark, for cripes sakes be there on time. And don't forget, I want you to get right after that Fitzpatrick broad as soon as she hits the lobby. Crawl all over but get those delegates' votes. Cut off Tom Ward; he's sure to be planning something to grab any votes Sally has lined up."
I nodded peevishly. I didn't need Cataldo reminding me to get hot after the Fitzpatrick queen. Tell me something once. I make a note of it. There's no need to remind me.
"So where will you be the rest of the evening in case I have to reach you?" I asked innocently.
"I'm going to be busy with Tony and some of the delegates from the western counties. They need a bit of stiffening. I'll probably spend the night here instead of in the Pacific Suite. Angela's got a bad headache. And I'll want to be getting up early without disturbing her. So unless something unexpected comes up, I'll see you and Phil at breakfast. Phil, I'll want a blow-by-blow on tonight's eleven o'clock TV news shows, just in case I don't have a chance to monitor them," Cataldo said in conclusion.
I smirked to myself. Good old Angela. If I needed a tipoff to what she had in mind. That was it, the bit about the headache. I'd play it cool around the hotel for a while. Talk to the press, visit some delegates' rooms, take in a few of the parties. Just generally be seen around. Then when I dropped out of sight about eleven-thirty, and anyone started asking for me, there would be plenty of people who would recall that I had been around.
We broke up, each of us going his separate way. I followed my course of action, making the rounds. I was careful to just drink ginger ale. It looked like booze, so every one thought I was joining in the fun-making. But I had no intention of getting loaded. Alcohol isn't good for you when you got something else on your mind.
I remembered when I was just eighteen and touring Europe. I was in Paris, just off the Rue Lafayette in Montmartre. I really hadn't been looking for anything in the way of a broad, just sort of sniffing around for local color. Anyway, this good-looking chick about thirty or so puts the make on me. I think in the beginning she was just looking for free drinks. I didn't mind because the booze was cheap in those days and I was kind of lonesome to talk to someone.
Anyway, we both got a bit liquored up, me more than her since she had a bigger capacity, having been at the drinking bit a lot longer. But the booze got her sex thoughts stirring and especially after she grabbed me on the thigh under the table and saw how fast my rod shot down to meet her fingers. My probing fingers found her steel-wool patch and in a few fast probing had her sticky wet.
She couldn't wait to get out of there then and go to her place for some body play. like a fool though I had to order a double shot of whiskey. It cost me a fortune and the outcome was that I bombed out when it came time to show my stuff. Despite her every effort, including some hot tongue lickings and suckings, my lollypop wouldn't develop a handle so I could put it away in her candy box.
I had never forgotten that humiliating experience. Of course, I had helped her to reach her zenith, mostly by scratching her shivering white thighs with my ears, but she still wasn't too pleased. She couldn't help remembering what she had felt and the disappointment of missing out was a severe blow to her morale. She gave a lecture on the effects of liquor on one's passion prodder.
I can still hear her even now saying to me, "Mark, babee, whiskey it is not good for this. Non, non. Always remember. When you are going to make love to the woman, easy on the whiskey. It stops this wonderful thing from going up." All the time she was admonishing me, she had been caressing and pulling it in the hopes of a latter-day resurrection. That was the last time my faithful Excalibur had ever failed a lady in her moment of deepest desire.
It was getting on to about quarter of twelve when I figured I could duck out without causing any comment. Anyone wondering about me, would just assume I was somewhere else in the hotel. No one would ever consider for a moment that I was upstairs taking a bath with Cataldo's old lady. Why who would think such a thing about Angela Cataldo, the sweet, demure and retiring wife of the big man himself? No one, of course. That's what made it all the more desirable.
I went back to my own suite to freshen up. My mind was filled with visions of Angela, of her long black hair, the smoky eyes, the heriditary Italian watermelons. I imagined the different ways I would try it with her. Maybe we could both take a bubble bath together. It would save me a bit of time.
The living room was still only lit by the one light that had illuminated my joust with Sarah. I could still detect a slight odor from that fray and gave the premises a few sprays from one of the pressurized cans of deodorants. But above the odor of lilacs I could still detect a whiff of Sarah's Jungle Gardenia perfume and a trace of her own personal body fragrance. I breathed deeply, vividly recalling with closed eyes the joys of that fight within those very walls. A huge picture of Sarah's scabbard transfixed by my buried sword burned most brilliantly in the cinerama screen of my mind.
I shucked off my jacket and pulled off my tie and then took off my jacket. In the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face and wrists to clear my head which was beginning to get a bit feverish from thoughts of Sarah and Angela. I told myself to relax. It had been good already that night Tremendous really. And it wasn't over. In a few minutes I'd be back inside Angela's Pacific Suite and playing it like Paul Gaugin with my big Tahitian maiden. I wondered if I should wear a pair of briefs with a loud print pattern and if Angela had a sarong any where in the suite. It would be fun to make like Jon Hall and Dotty Lamour for a while before dipping my bamboo shoot into her coconut shell.
I laughed at that possibility, then brushed my teeth and combed my hair. I smiled at myself in the mirror, considering my image a friendly sort and gave him a big panorama of my pearly whites. I flexed my arms a few times, extremely pleased with the muscles that bulged in the forearm and forceps. I wished again I had a tool the size of my forearm. I'd never have to work another day, if I did.
CHAPTER SIX
TEN MINUTES LATER I WAS KNOCKING SOFTLY ON the door of the Pacific Suite. A minute passed and still no one come to the door. What the hell. I knocked again a little louder that time. No one came. Yet listening at the door, I was sure I could hear muffled movements within. They sounded like they came from the direction of the bedroom.
What the hell, I thought, could Cataldo have tripped me up and be in there with his own wife? That was a hell of a note. I found my sense of outraged indignation funny and started to chuckle. But then remembering why I had come, I became slightly incensed again. My hand turned the door knob ever so slightly. It held fast. Damn thing! Locked tight. Now what?
My mind clicked off a number of possibilities on how to get into the suite, but rejected each of them almost as soon as they came up. There was one chance. The fire escape. Maybe I could get out on to it from my floor and then go back up and see into Cataldo's suite.
Within five minutes I was stealthily climbing the fire escape to the eighth floor of the Staler-Mason. I was in luck! The fire escape passed right by the bedroom window. I could see a little bit of light coming from the shaded window. Without fear of being seen from within, I went up the last few steps quickly and crouched down to one side of the window. I was no sooner in position when I heard the sounds of whispering voices shot through with urgent excitement.
My shaft, always quicker than my brain, began stirring. It was always wiser in these matters than me. I shifted to be more comfortable and to give it more room to expand.
Keeping my back pressed flat against the brick wall, I inched my head toward the window which was about half open from the bottom. The shade rustled ever so slightly in the touch of a breeze. Reaching in I carefully hooked one finger round the edge of the shade and ever so slowly pulled it off to the side by just a hair.
Cripes! My eyes almost fell out of my head at the sight I beheld. My saber nearly slashed through the enfolding cloth of my suit. That phony Angela. She was full of surprises.
Through the narrow opening I saw Angela bent over a chair, her powerful ass facing me. She was at a bit of an angle so only one immense melon was in view, dangling like a luscious fruit toward the floor. Angela's hair was undone and flowing over the great width of her back. She was nude and I could see her right hand again was tucked out of sight. It didn't take any imagination to figure her finger was doing its dirty work again. The way she was jerking around and her mouth was opening and shutting made it so vividly obvious.
But that was only part of the picture. Standing stark naked behind Angela was this Amazon of a woman. The very image of the Nordic woman. Blonde pigtails wound tightly and done up in a tight bun at the back of her head. Great shoulders which fell away to small waist were clearly visible. In the light, shadows alternately danced across the spheres and planes of her back and mountainous bottom and muscled thighs.
It was the damnedest thing. She was massaging Angela's back with the same brush I had used early in the bathroom. And this blonde giant, whose great tits appeared like two vast gourds in profile, had some kind of a contraption strapped around her buttocks. It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what it was. It became all too obvious when she turned more toward me and I saw that it was an imitation of my real thing. It looked so real. Long and hard. Probably made of rubber and underneath there was something which looked like a plastic ball. From what I read about such things, you gave the ball a squeeze just as your partner hit ground zero. The pressure shot a stream of hot liquid into the panting recipient's clamshell.
I loosened my grip on the shade and leaned back a bit shaken by what was going on in the room. Who'd ever figure Angela for a queer. But it all began to make sense, remembering what she had told me of the brushing episodes. And her partner, the one playing my role, was her maid Mary, of course. Who else? I distinctly recalled her now. The build was identical to the broad who had served us the food and drinks at the Cataldo's home. No wonder I thought she looked like a tough cookie.
The more I thought about the two of them wasting all that female acreage, those four bouncing globes and two love pies, the angrier I became. What a waste! They both should be horsewhipped and then gang-banged with me first in line.
I took another look. Angela was going back and forth like a pile driver. The big blonde was rubbing harder and harder. I saw too that she was moving in close and got a plan of action in mind. When they linked up I would strike.
I didn't have to wait very long to put my plan into action. The girls inside were getting progressively excited and worked up. My wide-eyed peeking showed me a scene that I had never seen played out before on any stage or bedroom. And I've seen a lot and participated in more than my fair share of them.
Mary let off the brushing and began spanking Angela's taut ass with the brush. I could see the skin turn white and then an angry red under the repeated smacking. It must have stung like hell, but Angela just kept crying, "It's heavenly, my love, don't stop."
Angela sure as hell wasn't stopping. Her arm was going up and down like a yo-yo. Man, was she having a time! She started swaying back and forth. The motion got her pendulous bubbies rocking to and fro. Her excitement was gradually increasing because her end pieces were fat and stiff and taking on a reddish hue.
The big robber contraption strapped to Mary's behind was stroking the air as the giantess whacked away at Angel's keester. Mary's fantastic spheres, with their hard red centers, bounced about like two big beach balls. She repeatedly cried, "Take that! And that, you bitch! Get it good and wet and hot for me. I'm mounting you any second now!"
By that time, I was as big as a stud myself, just from watching those two queens. I feared for a time that I might pop right out there on the fire escape. You'd have to be in my place to understand. It was just incredible to see those two broads going at it, the perspiration racing from their respective armpits and crotches.
Angela began to hump one arm of the chair she was so hot. "Now, Mary. Now," she pleaded. "Put that big whang into my hot lips right now."
Mary tossed aside the brush, grabbed hold of her phony staff with one hand, and picked up a large jar of Vaseline with the other. She held the Vaseline in front of her and jammed the rubber prodder deep into it, twisting it around a few times to make sure it was good and greasy.
"Mary. I'm burning up inside. Shove it into me and let's get going. I'm ready to hit it again and again," Angela urged.
"I'm coming, love. Hold on," Mary replied. She put aside the jar and with her hands rubbed the grease all over and around her waving bell-ringer. Satisfied, she moved forward flatfooted to get into position. When Angela felt the first touch of the phony baloney, she bent over even further and looked up from between her knees to help Mary insert the stiff rubber piece.
She jumped a little when Mary hit the wrong spot. Mary backed off a few inches and came on again. Her finger felt for Angela's love crease and gripped it until her prodder was alongside. Then she withdrew her finger to make way for that huge rod fixed to her groin.
From the fire escape I watched in awe as the ramrod began to slip into Angela's love nest. My avenger was jumping around like a kangaroo in heat. I had to unzip to permit it to breathe.
Angela was half sobbing and half exulting as that long pole slid into her. She straightened up a little and took a strong grip on the chair in front of her. She shook her cheeks a bit to keep Mary's equipment in the right channel.
Mary was grasping Angela around the waist. She slowly dropped her hands so she could scratch Angela's dense forest. As inch followed inch out of sight and into Angela, Mary moved in closer and closer. Now her gargantuan bubbies were squashed up against Angela's beautiful arched back.
It was time for me to go into action. Fortunately, the window was well-oiled, and I pushed it up noiselessly. I doubt if those two queens would have heard anything anyway because of their preoccupation with each other. Their cooing and crying and obscenities along with the slapping of their bodies kept them from hearing my approach.
I ducked down behind a chair and quickly slipped out of my clothes. My staff jumped with joy at being completely free and immediately turned in the direction of the action. I swear that my constant companion has a sniffer of its own.
The next move was tricky as hell but I was determined to pull it off. I tiptoed soundlessly across the rug, my rod leading the way. Waiting until Angela was giving out with the love talk, I slipped right up behind Mary and ducked down below her massive rump. What a view I had of the two of them through Mary's strong legs.
Angela was beginning to drip and I could see that Mary was well-lubricated too. It was kind of funny to see their four melons jumping up and down, bouncing one way and then another toward the floor.
I was in luck. Mary's contraption loosened and she had to pull away for a moment to tighten it. Angela cried for it but Mary told her to "hush, love, I'll be right back in you. Use your finger for a second."
She had both hands on her false erector set when I gave her a short, powerful Karate chop on the neck. I caught her instantly as she sagged. Angela was so busy satisfying herself she didn't hear a sound as I dragged Mary back a few feet and gently laid her down on her back. Her artificial limb pointed right up in the air.
In the next second my hand was up under Angela and joining her finger in a slick dual tickling action. With my other hand I guided my steaming stimulator toward that panting aperture.
"Hurry, Mary, hurry, my love," Angela panted. "Put it back in quickly. I'm dying for it."
Quick to do her bidding, I moved in right next to her, careful to keep my chest from rubbing against her back, and prepared for the grand entrance. My shaft leaped forward eager to kiss those divine lips. It touched. Both Angela and I leaped. My tube felt like it was going to pound itself to pieces it was so anxious to be connected.
"Mary, Mary," Angela groaned. "It feels wonderful. Better even than before. It's so hot and vibrant. So pulsating and lively. Get it all in."
I reached down with one hand to hold back my eager lance. You'd think he was the White Knight the way he was galloping to push his entire shiny length into Angela's portal. With a firm grip on things, I then let Lancelot ease forward. Looking down I could see it slipping inch by inch out of sight. Wow! Who'd ever figure Angela for having such a narrow pass. As my pranger passed along it, her muscles alternately contracted and relaxed, giving me the squeeze of my life. It was a good thing I didn't have to breathe through that pipe.
"Keep it coming Mary, my dearest. Keep it coming," Angela cried again and again.
"My sword banged into her up to the hilt and then she locked me to her by bringing her lovely legs together. I seized her around the waist, hoping she wouldn't notice my hairy forearms but still held back on my chest. I covered her back with kisses, sloshing my wet tongue over the entire expanse of her back. My eager fingers reached for her huge tits and clutched them with the fiercest desperation. Man, were they tremendous, hanging down into my fingers. I milked them like she was a cow.
"Oh, Mary," she cried passionately, "I'm starting to make it."
She spread her feet apart and urged me on (thinking I was Mary) to a faster race. I whipped my mount and jabbed harder and harder. The flatness of my hard stomach and firm thighs smacked again and again in loud sucking noises against her two enormous rear jowls.
I felt her legs tremble, the muscles in her round belly begin to jump, the vertebra in her spine contract, and I knew she was climbing the heights. The next second my stiff hose got a hot oily bath as Angela jumped off the peak. Her thighs trembled so violently that I had to clutch her tight about the waist to keep her from collapsing.
"Oh, Mary," she screamed. "Don't stop. Again. More. More. I'm going to make it like a machine gun."
She rose up again and my tense tickler went back to its incessant ramming. In and out. My hands moved up to her dangling fruit and pinched her end pieces until they shot up once more to attention.
By that time, I could feel my oil well beginning to surge around and around for the dash through my derrick. I began jerking like a puppet on the end of a string. Angela's mountainous behind oscillated like a vibrating machine as we went at it hammer and tong.
She jumped, ebbed and flowed, and then ebbed and flowed again. I could feel her legs shaking like two wet terriers drying off after a plunge into the ocean. Now my oil well was giving up its rich treasure. It trembled and pushed further into that love recess looking for the deepest point in which to deposit my riches.
As it left the starting gate and spurted from riiy gun, I jumped like a stuck pig and banged mercilessly against Angela's big buttocks. I opened my mouth to scream, the world revolved madly, and the sounds of cannons thundered in my ears. She came crashing back into me as my love juices jetted into her burning bun.
As we hit it together, we jittered and twitched about the floor, fighting to stay on our feet. Angela gasped and gulped for air like a lovely white exhausted fish. My tool kept jumping inside that narrow slot. Streams of hot juices spouted and spurted into it.
I felt Angela give one great shudder. I grasped her even tighter.
"Oh, Mary, darling. Darling. It was wonderful. How sweet," she gushed, still thinking she was locked in the love embrace of her queer friend. "Hold me, I'm ready to pass out from the thrill. My crack is throbbing with pleasure. We'll rest--I'm so tired and then I'll mount you."
She started to collapse wearily. My rod, its work done, popped out and plopped back down to whack me in the thigh.
Behind me I could hear Mary begin to stir on the floor. It was time to take care of Angela. Holding her fast with one hand, I gave her the same chopping blow on the neck. She sighed and folded up. I lugged her across the floor and dropped her on the bed.
I then danced across the rug, anticipation already putting a spark of life back into my soft saber as I surveyed Mary's fabulous landscape. Her eyes were beginning to flicker and she raised one arm to rub the back of her neck. One gigantic bubbie rose up higher than the other.
I stood over Mary, my eyes roving up and down and over and around her monstrous, physique. Queen or not, she had one of the finest developed bodies of any broad I had ever seen. And as I've said before, I've seen more than a few in my time, including the year I worked my way through college as an attendant in a woman's health salon.
Although flat out on her powerful back and firm behind, her massive spheres stretched tautly toward the ceiling of the Pacific Suite. They were capped by two red rubies that would have been the delight of a maharajah's wife. My fingers itched to encompass those twin alabaster peaks while my lips longed to gobble on those crimson jewels.
The matted V mass in her groin was nearly the same shade as Lita Ward's, but a bit lighter. As she came to Mary raised her knees and slowly rubbed the side of her high heels against the thick rug. The muscles ran in waves beneath the firm flesh.
I quickly knelt down and unstrapped that detestable contraption from about her waist to lay open to my view her creamy chasm. I had drank my coffee black at dinner and decided to partake of the cream then. I was swiftly down, my tongue revolving around and around, darting in and out like that of a thirsty cat. How sweet it was!
Mary's mind was still in a daze but her body responded to my urgings. Her legs spread further apart and she kept replenishing her creamer. Just as quickly as T lapped it up. My head began to go at a furious pace and her mons Veneris reacted by slowly spreading even further apart. I swooshed in and then out.
My swizzle stick snapped to its full length and began twitching for action. I glanced up at Mary, looking through that thatch of blonde hair which topped her cunt Her eyes were flickering.
At first I was going to chop her down again. But I decided against it because I wanted her vividly conscious when I swizzled my stick about her snatch. I crawled up from between her legs and straddled her chest. My grateful sword rested between her tits as though they were grinding stones about to sharpen it. I took one of those great beauties in each hand and pulled them together to hide my penis from my view. Man, were they the greatest! How firm, how full, how firmly packed. They should use those bubbies for their TV commercials and smoking would increase by five-hundred per cent.
My thumbs flicked the nipples as though they were the firing buttons on a couple of dual machine guns. Here I was the Baron Richthofen, diving down in my faithful Fokker Tripe on the Englishman's S.E.5A. Now I'm on his tail, just like I'd be on Mary's shortly. He sees me and tries to maneuver out of the line of fire. But it is too late. I pressed the red buttons and gave him two deadly bursts. Oily smoke curls from the engine of the S.E.5A. He's finished.
I laugh to myself, continually pressing Mary's carmine colored knobs. I can feel them swelling with new life under my thumb. Then they pop into position to resemble two sewing thimbles.
Mary's dark blue eyes opened. She took a moment to focus them. When she finally saw who it was atop her, she shot her mouth open to scream. But my right hand clamped a firm grip on her cheek and jaw. Simultaneously, I sat down hard on her chest to take a bit of wind out of her. Her bubbies slapped together between my thighs.
My mast shot forward like a draw bridge. It stood out from the midst of her flesh like a cannon. Mary stared at it in horror and a touch of fascination. She instinctively gulped.
"Now you just be a good old girl, Miss Mary," I said talking to her like I was Ernest Hemingway, "and you won't get mussed up. I'll release my hold on your face, but if you make one effort to holler I'll belt you right in the chops. Okay?"
She nodded, anger clearly visible in her features. The hell with her! She was in no position to squawk. I could ruin her and her girl friend. Poor Cataldo. Married to a juke. No wonder he was all wrapped up in politics. There was nothing to go home to.
I released my grip on Mary's cheek and jaw. She immediately tried to get up. Only her head came up. Her lips brushed against my manhood. She recoiled as though bitten by a cobra.
"Let me up you, s.o.b., " she snarled. "Let me up or I'll kill you, you male bastard."
"Knock it off, you phony," I ordered, "or I'll bust you wide open. I'm going to anyway, just like Angela, but not with my fist. I've got something better to poke you with."
"Not with me you won't," she said angrily. "You keep that goddamn thing to yourself. I don't want it poking in me."
"Shut up!" I barked. "Who the hell are you telling me what to do? I'm giving the orders around here. You're just a lousy maid bitch and you'll do what you're told. And the first thing you're going to do is to take that big whang and suck."
She looked at me like I was out of my ever-loving mind. She stared at me. Disbelief shone in her eyes.
But I noticed that she was looking my rigid prick up and down. Freed from my grip, her tongue darted out and licked her lips. Mary apparently wasn't so opposed to the task I had set her than she put on.
"I will not!" she said. But her voice lacked a ring of finality. "Keep it away from me!"
I took my tumescent rod in one hand and pointed it right at her mouth. She turned her head. I stroked her cheek with it. Easy. Gently. She shuddered but I sensed it was phony. Behind us the big toe of my right foot was delving into her hair lined porthole. It didn't take lone for it to become slick with her amorous oils.
"C'mon, Miss Mary," I said. "Let's stop kidding one another. You're just dying to try it. Who knows, you might even like it and then you won't have to take any more crap from the Angelas of this world. You can go around the world with men instead."
My love tool continued to stroke her cheek. Then ever so slowly, Mary turned her face toward it. Her tongue flickered out to just touch it. She must have liked the flavor because in a flash she had her lips clamped tightly on it.
"That's my girl," I said proudly. "Now you're behaving like a broad should."
AD the time I spoke to her soothingly, encouragingly, she was mouthing my pulsing whang. Her tongue gave it a good washing with her hot saliva. My thing responded to her heated probing by standing up straighter and harder. The damn little show off.
Back of us, my toe continued its investigation of that hair-lined slot. Sucking noises had become audible. Her long legs had fallen apart and she was scraping the rug with the high-heeled shoes.
I sensed my spout was almost ready to flow; I withdrew it. Mary's lips carne up in hot pursuit.
"Cool it, Miss Mary. Otherwise you'll get a mouthful that will choke you up."
She held her head up. Her tongue continued to dart in and out between her curved lips. Man, was she ever thirsty.
"Let me have it, please Mr. Vista. I want it. I crave it," she pleaded.
"You can have it that way later. Right now I've got something else in mind. If you know what I mean," I said.
I shifted my weight so I was sitting on her stomach. It was as hard as a surf board. I leaned forward to drink again at those lovely fountains she displayed to such great advantage. Their red nozzles leaped up higher under my chewing and sucking. In my ear I could hear breath coming in rapid gasps.
I started to slide down her body. Reluctantly, my lips loosened their suction hold on those mammoth tits. Freed they snapped back up to flamboyant attention. My rump slid over her blonde gash and I came to rest on her yawning thighs.
Mary watched my every move. Hell she must have known what I had in mind. My old buddy was waving frantically, signaling for immediate action.
"What are you going to do, Mark," she asked trembling slightly.
"What the hell do you think I'm going to do?" I said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I'm not sure," Mary said. Her eyes were two big O's. They mostly were focused on my throbbing root.
I felt real sexy and pushed my buttocks forward. My friend shot forward at an angle and was poised only a few inches from her oil-slicked tunnel.
"I figure it's about time to drive through," I said. I was determined to give it to her fast and hard. I had remembered again what I had caught her and Angela doing. The screwballs. The two of them wasting those voluptuous forms. I'd teach them.
My finger transfixed her. She leaped in the air.
"No, Mark. No. Please."
"Shut up," I retorted. "What's coming next will put that to shame."
"You're not really going to put your thing in me, are you?" she asked in disbelief.
"I sure as hell am, you stupid bitch. " I said.
"No! No!" she begged.
I had had enough from her. Her head snapped to one side from my vicious backhand. Stunned she was silent for a moment. I reached over and grabbed her artificial tool and shoved it into her mouth. She started to reach for it.
"Take that out of your mouth, Miss Mary," I warned, "and I'll smack you all over this pad. You just leave it where it is and be a good little girl. You understand? Nod your head!"
She nodded, no easy task with that staff jammed between her mouth. She had to keep her head over to the side to hold it firmly in place.
Quickly then I reached and pushed her thighs apart. I placed my knees inside her thighs and gazed at the sweetness of her honeycomb. My stinger strained toward it. I let it just touch the edges, to sniff around. More life pounded into it.
Before I could stop her, Mary spat out the phony shaft and, to my surprise, cried, "Push it in, Mark! Push it in. I want to remember how it was before I went the other way."
I went into her like a torpedo being rammed into its firing tube. I knew once again that time was getting short and I went at her hatch like a rivet gun. The next thing I knew Mary had wrapped her powerful legs tightly around me, pulled me down on her wobbling globes, clasped her mouth hotly to mine, spun me over on my back, and was going like a crazy woman on top of me. I guess she was just too used to taking the dominant male riding position.
She whacked her great groin at me like it was the last time ever and she wanted to make it the best. She gasped and gulped and snorted and sniffed without letup. I had to grab what air I could with a quick intake through the nostrils whenever she relaxed her intense hold for even a second.
I sensed though that something was not right. I couldn't see what was going on. Mary prevented me from doing so by staying up top. The bitch, if Angela was coming to they could gang up on me. You never know what a couple of irate jukes will do.
I dug in both heels and burst upward, twisting about. Mary shot up and over. I came down on her like a Bengal Lancer spearing a pig. In one great flood I spurted into her vibrating purse. Mary groaned and slammed it tighter. She took my cash and wanted to make sure I got no change. That was okay by me. I strained to make the biggest deposit possible. You can never have enough in the bank.
She was taking the last penny and I was trying to collect my senses from the unfailing delight of it when a wave of intense pain passed across my scalp. I threw my head back to see infuriated Angela aiming a blow at my neck. Not today she wasn't. I instantly seized the hand gripping my hair and gave it a short but vicious twist. Angela, a bewildered expression on her face, slammed down across Mary, knocking the wind out of her.
Even as I was crashing downward, I was slipping free of Mary and going into a crouch.
Angela looked up dazedly from Mary's inert body. The look of hate and disgust she gave me would wither a holy statue.
"I'll fix you for this, Mark Vista," she cursed, "if it's the last thing I do. I'll get you for putting that dirty thing into me and especially for violating my darling Mary."
"You'll do nothing, phony!" I shot back. "Hubby must know what you are. He's not about to like it if you tell him I got what he's been missing. And now good night and sweet dreams."
My stiff fingers flashed forward and hit the right spot in her neck. She went out like a light. I was up on my feet in the next moment, surveying my handiwork. What a lovely welter of female pulchritude. I promised myself I'd get back to them again sometime.
They were both out when I finished dressing. For laughs I rolled Angela off Mary. I then stretched Mary flat out on her back, pushing open her legs. Angela was a bit heavy but I finally got her arranged atop Mary. With each of them in a position to use the other's muff to powder up when they came to, I had another chuckle and quietly left by the front door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I awoke to the soft ringing of the telephone. It was the desk reminding me that I had asked to be called at seven o'clock. I mumbled a throaty "thanks" and fumbled with the phone trying to put it back on the stand.
It took me a minute to get my bearings and an outline of the day's schedule in my mind. A schedule, that is, of Cataldo's business. Of course, what else came up in the way of pleasure I couldn't foresee. If it was another day like yesterday I might not make it through the convention.
The fog rapidly dispelled from my mind, I hopped out of the sack and went into the bathroom for my start of the morning ritual. A shower first and then my period of intense exercises. The huffing and puffing, which got the blood stirring, the brain sharp and alert, and my skin glowing, was followed by a steamy bath and then a cold shower, as cold as I could stand it. Man, I was really awake and ready to go after that.
A knock on the door was followed by a bellhop who brought in a tray with a hot cup of black coffee and a Bloody Mary. I flipped him a tip and slowly sipped the tarty tomato drink with its shot of booze. The coffee took its lickings while I dressed.
I decided on a brown tweed suit, with vest, of course. The delegates would be out in force today and I wanted to make the best possible impression. A tweed suit with a conventional stripe tie was the best combination. I selected an orange and black tie. This was my day to make like a Princeton man. I flicked a cloth over my dark brown cordovan loafers. You can get away with wearing loafers with a tweed suit during the daylight hours. The Yankees all do it. Don't try it though after six. It'll mark you as a farmer.
Pleased with my reflection in the full-length mirror, I got busy on the phone. First I checked with Phil to see how we stood with our radio and TV people. He reported that Cataldo had done well on all the eleven p.m. TV news shows last night. I asked how Ward had done. Phil said he had been given some footage, but not as much as Cataldo. It was Phil's opinion that Ward was used because Lita was hovering in the background clad in this incredibly tight leotard outfit.
It had been jet-black with a wide gold leather belt at her small waist.
"That's old Lita," I said. I made a mental note to get to her again before the day was over. I wondered if she had any zippers in her leotard outfit. If she was wearing it and I was in a hurry, it would sure save a lot of time. Phil also confirmed that old Lita had moved up beside Ward while he was being filmed and slowly turned sideways.
"That must have given the viewers a jolt," I said smiling. "Her set must be worth a hundred votes to Tom Ward."
Phil and I checked over a few more matters and then broke it off. I would see him at breakfast with Cataldo who probably by then was returning from his early morning walk. I figured I better get down to the lobby so I could greet him like a faithful retainer when he entered in triumph followed by his retinue of newsmen and photographers.
I was strolling around the lobby being my usually affable and enthusiastic self when I spotted Lita. She saw me at the same time and I walked over.
"Good morning, sunshine," I said. "That was quite a performance you put on for the boob-tube watchers last night."
"Thank you, darling," she said in reply. "I knew you would appreciate it. And in case you missed it, they're rerunning it on most of the channels again this morning. I'm sure that will make you very happy."
I shrugged. "All is fair in love and war and politics. I'm sure our boy is getting another run-around on the a.m.'s. How's it look for you people, anyway?"
"We're still right up there with you," Lita said.
"Course I'm not sure what you have planned for Sally Fitzpatrick. Her votes could nearly turn the trick for either camp. Is Cataldo going to sic you on to her with that fabulous persuader of yours?"
"He might just do that," I said laughing. Lita was a good kid.
"Well, Mark, just remember we've got a return engagement scheduled. And don't forget the daiquiris."
She smiled coquettishly and winked. "I'll see you later, lover," she said, walking away in the direction of a group of delegates.
"When I do show, Lita, I'd appreciate it if you would doff that lovely A-suit and slip into that sexy leotard outfit. I'm intrigued by the description I got of it."
"All right, old friend. It's handy too. Even has a hidden zipper in the crotch for fast work. Ta, ta," she bade good-bye, a flirtatious smile on her full lips.
I laughed like hell and continued my rounds. I was the hail-well-met fellow with the delegates and the top politicos and the old charmer with their ladies and mistresses. I looked at my watch. Cataldo should be showing up any minute now. I started out to see if I could spot him when the loud speaker informed me that I had a house call. I strolled casually over to the line of phones on the wall shelf and picked up one.
"Yes," I asked. "Mark Vista here. Hello."
For a few second there was only this sound of heavy breathing in my ear. That should have been the tip off right then and there. But it had been a long time. And I just never figured that person to show up at that time.
"Hello, hello," I repeated.
Then a voice that I shall carry with me to the grave replied in tones as rounded and mellifluous as her own thirty-two-year-old body, which had never aged since the first day I entered it as a sixteen-year-old virgin, whispered. "Good morning, darling."
It was like being punched unexpectedly in the gut. My dormant root also reacted to the old love call from out of the past by snapping instantly to its ultimate length.
"Ima! Ima Leigh," my voice trembled slightly. "For God's sake what are you doing in town? Where are you?"
"No details now, Marksy. I'll tell you about it later. How soon will you be free? It's been a long time," she said in her soft husky voice.
"I can break away about nine-thirty. I've got to have breakfast with Johnny Cataldo first. But I could skip that too for you, sweetheart."
"Huh, huh, Marksy," she said with a trace of a reprimand. "You don't want to blow it now after all your hard work."
"I'll blow it any time for you, Ima," I said facetiously.
"Hmmm," she murmured. "I'd like that. But I'll wait. Make it nine-thirty. I'll snuggle up and keep it warm for you until then."
I nearly creamed myself. Man was my luck running good. After yesterday and now Ima at the top of today's list.
"Where are you, Ima," I asked.
"Up in room 963 right here in the hotel, Marksy. And I've been here since last night. You've been a bad boy and I have the films to prove it. But we'll talk about that later. Bye now."
"Wait," I called, almost out of my mind with the news that that fantastic body was right in the same hotel and going to waste while I dallied about the hotel. But Ima had rung off. My thing was hammering away in my threads it was so hot to go with Ima. But she was right: business before pleasure.
I heard a loud commotion at the entranceway and Johnny literally burst into the lobby. He could be a ball of fire when he wanted to be, especially in public. I constantly coached him how important it was for him to always be eager and energetic when mixing with the idiots. They liked their candidates to be dynamos on wheels, so no matter how tired he was Johnny had been instructed again and again to perk up and smile in their midst, even when his ass was dragging from fatigue.
I advanced to my chief and wished him a good morning while the press people gathered around with other circles of delegates, hangers-on and private citizens who yelled' out: "Atta boy, Johnny, give 'em hell! We're with you, baby! You got it made, Johnny!" And other such drivel. Johnny, the complete politician waved lustily and clapped his hands like a prize fighter. The bastard really ate it up. Let him, I figured. Wherever he goes, wither goes I; that was my motto. He could have the spotlight, just give me the dough and the broads.
I waved the press people aside. "Later fellows. We've got some private business to attend to. After breakfast for a few minutes maybe."
They all smiled and moved off, the photographers rushing away to develop their shots for the early p.m. editions and the TV cameramen for the noon shows. Johnny and I pushed our way through a door off the lobby into the Pilgrim Lounge. Phil and Tony Boffo were already there. Over bacon and eggs and hot coffee we went over the plans for the day. Everything seemed to be in order, so we broke it up shortly after getting the check.
Once Johnny and the others were disposed of I checked around to make sure my end was all set. Everything was affirmative and I ducked into the elevator and took it to the eighth floor. From there I strolled down the corridor to the exit door, pushed through and dashed up the stairs to the ninth floor. Man, I was in a sweat thinking of Ima and how long it had been. My visions of all those countless times we had the scene, more even than with Lita, just became one big blur. In mind, Ima was waiting like a vampire to pounce on me as soon as I entered her suite.
I no sooner tapped lightly on the door of her suite than it swung open. Ima was standing tall and erect in the far side of the living room gazing down at the city streets.
Her right hand held a cigarette. I wondered if she still smoked her own blend of Turkish and Virginia tobaccos. Her left hand rested arrogantly against the indentation of her small waist. Ima was a cool one. She was obviously aware of my entrance but never looked around for even a second.
I went right across the room and slipped my arms around her lush body. My hands softly locked on the curved fullness of her turned up bubbies. They rested there without exerting any pressure.
She didn't move a hair. I moved in close and whispered "darling" in her ear, lapping her ear lobe with my eager tongue, and slowly pressing my fingers on the ends of her burgeoning bosom.
Her right hand arced downward and noiselessly dropped the cigarette into a ready ash tray. Everything always seemed to be convenient and ready and accessible for Ima Leigh.
Without so much as whispering a syllable, Ima turned within the confines of my arms. Her stunning features, highlighted by pouting baby lips upon which I had feasted so often, came into view. She raised her mouth until those marshmallow lips parted like flower petals straining for a drop of rainwater.
Then, as though they were steel springs, her strong arms curved around me. She pulled my head down until her lips, trembling in desire, nearly touched. Just before we kissed, Ima whispered in a voice edged with wanton lust, "Good morning, darling."
I smiled to myself. After all those years, she had not forgotten. Ima had remembered that no matter where we made it, no matter how many times, no matter if we were hung over or what, we inevitably began her loving with that simple phrase, "Good morning, darling."
Her lips were crushed and locked against mine. Her breath smelled of smoked wood. I inhaled deeply, recalling the memories of past sessions and vowing to make this the best yet. I gathered up the length of her tongue and sucked it between my teeth where I could nip at it.
My hips swiveled as though they were fixed on ball bearings and I gyrated them against the small hump of her supple belly. Ima inhaled audibly. Our lips held fast like suction cups. My impatient rod shot out and knocked at her female doorway. My penis felt like it was growing an inch a minute. I didn't want to rush this sensual session and leaned back so Ima couldn't feel its presence.
Still unclear in my mind what Ima was doing at the convention, I necessarily concentrated on the business in my hands. I stepped back and settled slowly into a large black leather Ottoman. The cushions sighed beneath my rump. My rigid length of erection loomed before me like a tent pole.
Ima's breasts, as always were proud and upright under her classy outfit. It was obvious from the way they jiggled that she was not using a brassiere. Under the skin tight dress, her belly was flat and firm. As she knelt down before me, I remembered how her buttocks were round and bold without the slightest bit of sag.
Her thin long fingers crept up under my trouser legs. The hair on my body rose in stiff array with anticipation. I held back. I wanted this scene the best ever so that it would remain a delightful dream for her until death.
As we played our erotic drama, no words passed between us. Her fingers tightened around the calves of my muscular legs. Ima pulled herself up so that her curved bubbies rested on my hot knees. My bones ached with desire.
Ima's exquisitely formed features, like those of a Tiepelo virgin, hovered directly over my cock, which by then looked as formidable as the Eiffel Tower. With just the brush of a smile across her face, she gently placed her chin on the end of that trouser-encased bulge.
As I watched in passionate awe, Ima dropped her head so that my oversized magic marker traced the course of her classic profile. She paused briefly as it brushed her honeyed lips, then dropped her head again so that my thing was resting between her eyes. She raised up and with parted lips bit me in the stomach. My marker pulsed longingly against the whiteness of her neck.
My hands groped for the zipper at the back of her clinging dress. As they did, I felt her luscious mouth fix upon the tab of my zipper. Holding tightly with her strong white teeth, she slowly pulled down on the zipper. When it touched bottom, my friend jumped out like a jack-in-the-box.
I was inside the back of her dress now, massaging the lovely skin with my tingling fingers. I jerked when her feverish lips fastened like the coils of a toaster on me. As she tongued it, I moaned and strained in the chair. My teeth gritted in delight. I don't know how I got any bigger, but I did. The onset of some magic physical power imbued my being and my sword surged forward.
Ima gently withdrew her red lips and gazed down at it. It was rigid as a steel girder. Taking it in my hand, I probed her left ear and then the right. Her small nostrils were not left untouched either. They breathed forth hot air no Arab ever simulated.
I didn't want her down again. I would pop too soon. I slid my shaking hands under her damp arm pits and pulled her up to me. She came eagerly. My hands slipped the sheath dress and pulled it off her creamy shoulders. As she slithered along my body, the dress fell on to the floor with a soft rustling noise. Ima watched with her big round blue eyes. Her large ripe tits bobbed in front.
My eyes widened as I saw she wore only a half slip. First with child-like tenderness I slid my hands underneath the band and then changed to animal eagerness to rip it off her. A gasp of anticipation escaped her lips.
As I eased Ima on her side so I could grasp the summits of her big globes, she undid my belt with shaking fingers. I rose up on my elbow and she deftly whipped the trousers off my kicking legs.
I cupped her chin and tilted it back so that my mouth could fasten on hers. I chewed her lips until they filled my mouth. My tongue withdrew from that heated cavern and her teeth locked shut. I knocked again at the white teeth. She laughed lightly and then parted them. My hot tongue snaked within and ran amok with hers in panting pursuit.
Ima's hand was taking the measurements of my whang. She stopped and looked at me teasingly. "C'mon," I said, "you know I like that."
"Do you think I could forget," she said, ardor filling her eyes. With just the tips of her fingers she gripped me again and lovingly massaged me up and down like a roller coaster in slow motion.
Her sensitive fingers wandered over flushed blood vessels until somehow I grew even more. Ima eyed it with wonder. I wondered if it would ever be able to get back to its natural size again.
While her fingers played their tune on my flute, I placed my hand on her soft downy thatch and then let them walk through its lustrous curls. Ima was damp with passion and became wetter as my fingers treaded slowly up the golden path of her slit.
Gently, while our embrace became hotter and hotter, I revolved her body until she was squashed against my hard form. Ima reacted by pressing herself eagerly to me. My periscope peeked through the waves of her curly hair in a search for her hidden heaven. My hands slid along the symmetrical roundness of her ass. My legs parted and I pulled her to me as my erection branded the inner sides of her thighs. A gasp of delightful surprise came from her lips which were still welded to mine.
Suddenly, Ima erupted from my grasp and leaped up on my chest so that her well-shaped legs pressed against my ear. I knew what she wanted and snapped to it. But I played with her by first swirling my tongue in her navel. But she was impatient and pushed my head down until my tongue was doing her urgent bidding.
She opened and closed her female oriface with the facility of a bank vault. I lost myself in that sweet pulsating flesh slapping against my head.
Ima, with her old familiar cat-like grace, moved down and away. Her lush breasts seemed to be everywhere at once. My back and legs were stuck in their sweat to the Ottoman.
I pulled away and hoisted myself up. Ima's legs came down around my hips and tightly circled me. We renewed our tongue wrestling.
With strength drawn from my big girder, I clasped Ima to my body and rose up to carry Ima across the room. I was so big that I had no trouble holding her to me. With my arm muscles swelling to their biggest proportions, my thighs aching to hold back the eternal eruption, and my hips being battered by her legs, I lowered Ima to the couch.
Her legs came up fast to hook over my shoulders. My hands slipped to encompass the fullness of her ass. I squeezed and Ima jumped with the spring of a bitch in heat. We rode merrily along the way to bliss. We could both feel it coming from the well-stoked fires of our loins.
Deeper and deeper I plunged. Faster and faster. Ima's breath came in short gasps. Her head fell back. She no longer had the strength to hold my lips to hers. I could have gone then but decided to keep my goodies a bit longer. Ima had done me dirt not letting me know earlier she was in the hotel.
I eased off, letting the fire of my lust cool off a fraction. I slowly withdrew from her cookie jar. Ima frowned. She arched her back, desperately seeking to lock in my handle and keep me to her.
But I was in command and determined to keep things that way. You've always got to keep an edge on any broad. I rode her up and down through waves of passion and ecstasy. At one point I rammed home with so much force that I was sure I had dismembered myself. Ima responded wildly, going into a frenzy of body contortions.
I finally decided that enough was enough. I had to get back to work for Cataldo. Who the hell knew what those delegates were up to? If you aren't after them every minute some other candidate would be wining, dining and womanizing them. Also I had to find out what Ima was up to. The nation's first female White House press secretary hadn't come to town just to get serviced, no matter how good I was. Ima knew I'd go to Washington any time she needed to get straightened out.
I shifted my body and Ima's legs rose higher above my shoulders. I slipped down a bit lower and found that I still had another inch or so to make a full woman out of her. Raising her with my shoulders, I whispered into her panting mouth, "Ready for the homecoming, baby?"
Another moan of pleasure escaped her curved lips. I went to the mark. My toes dug deep into the couch and I felt like a football tackle bucking a thousand-pound dummy which wouldn't budge a hair but you kept hitting it anyway just for the intense joy of it.
I sensed in my loins that I was rapidly near flaming-out. "Ima, I'm re-entering, baby. Hang on for a meteor miracle and here I come."
"Go on, Mark. Do it," Ima cried. "It's going to happen for me too." Her voice trembled with wonder and ecstasy.
It was a way-out blizzard of bliss for both of us when we sailed together. I felt like it was the very first time. My love filled that mystical well, brimmed over the edges and trickled warmly down Ima's shaking thighs. I sensed as though I were rapidly disappearing into space in myriad fragments.
Ima groaned endlessly, her buttocks thumping against the couch. When she saw my small smile, she flickered her eyes lazily and let down her legs.
I rested my head on her breasts which were large and magnificent. Their summits were raised and red. I mouthed them soothingly, easing my thirst after the great ride.
"Hmmm," she finally said to break the pregnant silence. "Mark, there is just no one anywhere who can do it like you. Not one of those studs in the White
House press corps. You make them all look like lads at play."
"No wonder you've reached the top, Ima," I responded, "the way you know how to build a person up. I thank you for your kind words. As always, it was a pleasure to come through for you. How many times now do you figure that makes it with us?"
"It may surprise you, Mark, but I know exactly. Together we've pounded it out eight-hundred and three times. Not bad when you think all the time we were apart," she said proudly.
"I think I can remember each and every time," I said. "Especially the first one. I'll remember that as long as I love."
"And will you remember that scene you played out last night with Angela Cataldo and her maid?" she asked teasingly.
"Hey," I said, playing for time. "How did you know about that? And what films are you talking about?"
"Relax, Mark darling," she said, rolling over to give me some room beside her. I played with her sharp, spherical breasts. "The boss sent me personally. And I always have the best equipment in every field at my call, including wire taps, listening devices, cameras and recorders. And the experts to use them."
"I can imagine," I said keenly aware of the power of Washington and the services it could muster at the drop of a hat. "But what are you doing here in town."
"It's quite simple, Mark," she said with a touch of disappointment. Apparently she thought I should know without her having to explain the details. "The White House wants to make sure that your man gets the nomination. He's the only one as far as Washington is concerned who can possibly knock over the opposition party's candidate in the November election. Our side is going to need a loyal governor in each state we can count on when the presidential election comes around in two years. We want governors who are loyal to our man and who will be sure to throw their full delegation to him at the national convention in Omaha."
"So, you are already laying the groundwork for the next national election. Certainly no flies on you people."
"That's the way you operate in the big time, Mark. When you've got that kind of power in Washington, you don't want to lose out of sheer lack of attention to details."
"I can imagine. Where the hell else is there to go but down," I observed. "I'm glad you're on our side. How have you assessed our chances?"
"Our own surveys show that Cataldo is neck and neck with Tom Ward. They have about two-hundred and ninety-five votes apiece, give or take a couple each way. Is that the way you figure it?" she asked.
"Right on the head," I said without keeping the surprise out of my voice. Who would ever think Washington kept such close tabs on an in-state nominating convention? "Six votes for Cataldo or Ward and the ball game is all over."
"It has to be Cataldo, or you and I go into exile together," Ima said with a touch of urgency in her voice. "The big man doesn't accept excuses. He only wants victory. So what are we doing about those votes?"
"I figure that Sally Fitzpatrick is holding four of them, counting her own. Her candidacy never really got off the ground, but she did commit three delegates to her cause early. Right now I don't know if she'll release them or not. But she'll have to when she sees how the voting is going so overwhelmingly against her and in favor of Cataldo and Ward. That's when she's got to direct them' to Cataldo. They go to Ward and the delegates holding the other two votes could jump his way."
"All right, so what are we doing to make sure that doesn't happen? Is this Fitzpatrick broad a bag or what? Can you turn the charm on her?" Ima asked.
I smiled. "As a matter-of-fact, she's a good-looking housewife. Three kids. Lots of class. Never heard that she did any playing around. Our strategy calls for me to latch on to her as soon as she arrives which is probably just about now."
"We better get going then," Ima said, now all business. "I'll be in touch with you later. I've got to check with Cataldo."
The two of us blended our bodies in one last long embrace and in unison sprang up from the couch. She let me use the bath first. Within five minutes I was out of the room and on my way to contact Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A QUICK CHECK AT THE DESK REASSURED ME THAT Sally Fitzpatrick still had not checked in. To be on the safe side I called her at home and was told by the maid that she had left for the hotel to attend the convention. I relaxed a bit then. For a moment I had panicked, thinking she wasn't coming at all.
Cool once more, I made the rounds. Everything was in good shape. Inside the vast auditorium of the Statler-Mason, the various candidates and political bigwigs were making the standard cliche-ridden speeches. I listened for a while from the press section. I smiled inwardly when Cataldo glanced up from his clique of ass-kissers and hanger-ons. He spotted me and I waved a greeting. It's good to let the boss see you working. Thinks he's getting his money's worth out of you.
My sojourn among the news crowd assured me that everything was as before. Cataldo and Ward were neck and neck. Anything could happen to tip the scales in either direction. I made a vow to make sure they tipped our way. For me, it was important that Cataldo won. Because from here he would go into the November election a solid favorite. In January, he would be sworn into office as governor of one of the five biggest states in the country. The amount of power and patronage that would be available to me as his press secretary was incalculable. The jobs would pay me at least twenty-thousand a year, plus expenses. In addition, there would be the chance to pick up a lot of extra dough on the side.
My mouth watered thinking of the power, especially. All those bastards who had done me dirt would be made to crawl. I could see them in my mind sucking up to me with lunches, tickets, gifts and broads. I'd make each and everyone of them pay through the nose before they got an appointment or a state contract.
And four-years later who could tell. The country was big enough to elect a Catholic president. Maybe now it was ready for a wop chief executive. The thought was exhilarating. Man, would I be in a good spot. Even now, of course, I wasn't doing bad. I had the best possible entrance to the White House, right through that sweet, soft bower at the apex of Ima's belly and thighs.
But I'm a man and want to make that big time on my own. Sure Ima could get me just about any big job available with the federal government, whether in Washington or elsewhere. But my pride, what there is of it, insists that I make it my way. And with Cataldo, I had that shot for a place at the top. And I mean to make it. There might not be another opportunity or another time for me.
I chatted a bit longer with the press crowd. I inquired discreetly about Sarah Whynot and learned that she was off for the day but should be on deck for the voting this evening. I wondered if I would be able to fit her into my schedule. It was as tight as her newly broached nether lips.
I went over the schedule in my mind. The opening speeches would go for a while, mostly to the empty seats. The delegates were old hands and wouldn't take their seats en masse until the nominating ones started later in the afternoon. There would be a break for dinner and then the voting would begin about nine o'clock this evening. In the meantime, I had to get to Sally Fitzpatrick and win her over. Lita had to be taken care of before dinner. And between my running around for Cataldo I had to get back to Ima.
Whoops, I almost forgot the blast I was tossing in the afternoon for the key delegates. By having it then, I figured most of them would be sobered up by the time the voters started to make their appearance. Which reminded me, I better check on the arrangements for that bash.
I left the hall in a hurry and looked up the chief bellhop to determine if my private party was ready to go at two-thirty. He ran through the details again and I nodded approvingly. The two hustlers were already in the suite resting up for their duty call. If need be they would take on each of the delegates invited to my party. That would amount to some twenty shots apiece. I had to admire their staying power. I wondered if they could make it twenty-one.
With about half an hour before lunch I went up to Cataldo's suite and ran his acceptance speech once more through the typewriter. I wanted it to be letter perfect. One thing I take pride in is my writing ability. Without it, I'd have nothing.
Satisfied with the way the speech read and the way it sounded as I read it aloud and played it back on a tape recorder, I placed it aside. It was just about noon and I decided I had better check to see if the Fitzpatrick broad was in the hotel. I phoned the desk and was told that Mrs. Fitzpatrick had come in about a quarter of an hour before. She was in room 392. The hotel management must have figured her for a loser.
I got the operator and asked for 392. The phone buzzed. I began to sweat. What if she had come in and gone right out? I might not get a chance alone with her. C'mon, baby, answer the damn line, I urged.
The buzzing stopped as someone at the other end picked it up. If only it was Sally. I recognized her voice immediately and sighed with relief.
"Sally, Mark Vista. How are you?" I said merrily.
She replied that she was fine and that she was expecting my call. I made believe I didn't catch that remark and asked if I could drop by for a little chat. She said, "Great! I'll be waiting for you. I'm alone."
I replaced the phone with a sense of uneasiness. Her cryptic remarks had me puzzled, to say the least. What did she mean saying she had expected my call.
And what about that bit that she was all alone.
I made a hurry-up trip to the lobby. Stepping off the elevator, I waded into a dense crowd. Things were picking up. I looked around for Phil or any other member of the staff. Finally, I ran into Tony and told him to tell Cataldo that I had made my contact with Sally and would be out of circulation for about an hour or so. Tony laughed and said he would relay the information.
With that message out of the way, I made my way back to the elevators and took one up to the third floor. A couple of other persons got off at the same floor. I dawdled a bit until they were all out of sight and then headed for Sally's room.
I decided to play it straight down the line with Sally. What I wanted was those delegate votes she had pledged to herself. She knew she didn't have a chance at this stage of the game for the nomination, so it was only up to her to make a deal. If her price wasn't too high, Cataldo would pay. He had no choice actually, no matter what her demands.
Sally had established an untarnished reputation for herself in the dirty world of politics as it is played in our state. I doubt if our politics are any dirtier than anywhere else, but that didn't make them any more palatable either.
In her own way, as a beautiful woman who was both intelligent and articulate, Sally had to be reckoned as a power within the party. Her image of a happily-married housewife with a high-salaried husband and three good-looking kids remained unbroken.
I couldn't quite figure though how she could be so damn happy. At least she always appeared to be.
Her husband, Jack Fitzpatrick, was a nice enough guy, but a bit of a naive ass. I just could never visualize him mounted atop old Sal, whipping her hell-bent for leather to that moment of truth.
Yet they had knocked out three kids, so he must have been good for her that many number of times anyway.
Sally frankly had a fantastic body, but I had never heard anyone even hint that they had made the scene with her. There hadn't even been a rumor of any such goings on. I was determined as I headed for her suite that I was going to be a paragon of virtue. This was no time to try and find out why she kept her luscious temple of temptation all locked up only for Jack.
When she gaily opened the door and waved me within, I was the proper gentleman. Even my own mother would have been proud of me.
"Mark, do come in," she said. Her voice was a bit affected, sort of like she was Katherine Hepburn and she was addressing Cary Grant.
"Thanks, Sally," I replied with a smile I figured that was just right for my new character. As I walked past her, I was careful not to brush against the summits of her prominent breasts, straining, as I could easily see, against her bra. Usually, I never let such an opportunity go by. No, this time I was going to be Little Lord Fauntleroy all grown up. Frederick Bartholomew would be delighted with my acting.
"Care for a drink?" she asked innocently.
"No," I said even before she got to the portable bar she had all set up in the living room. "Coffee will be fine," T added, renewing my vow to get those votes she had for Cataldo.
Trying to look cool, I adjusted my Countess Mara tie in a wall mirror. The mirror gave me a chance to sneak a good look at Sally. What an outfit she had on, a sheer white blouse over those conical wonders and wine red slacks that hugged the big curves of her ass and thighs.
Some women can't wear pants. But if a woman is feminine at all, she'll look feminine in pants. And Sally looked plenty feminine in her stalk straight slacks.
"No drink," Sally echoed tauntingly. "Is this the Mark Vista I know? The city's poorest playboy? The swingingest man-about-town? The fashion-plate who looks like he just stepped out of Esquire or Playboy? My, my, I can't ever recall you refusing a drink."
"Well, it's like this, Sally, I've fallen on hard times. This campaign has got me running around like a madman. I won't kid you. We need every delegate we can get to win. And that includes those you have pledged to yourself. I'm so keyed up about now that the thought of drinking turns my stomach. I feel so badly for Cataldo. You know he's put his whole life into winning the nomination, and if he doesn't get it there's no telling what he might do."
During this spiel I tried as much as possible to keep from looking Sally square in her soft blue eyes. Her oval face was picturesquely framed in a halo of lustrous auburn hair that only Irish girls possess. I couldn't help wondering though if she were a true redhead, especially at the point in her tight slacks where the sharp lines curve up from the inner thighs to form that V for victory, where the pilot light is always waiting to be turned up. Even as I talked I discarded such thoughts to work on her sympathy in an effort to win over her delegates for Cataldo. My moment would come later, I was sure. If she wanted a fourth offspring, I intended to help the cause with my own goodies.
"Oh, Mark, please. Don't put me on. This is Sally Fitzpatrick," she said as though she were announcing she were Jackie Kennedy. "Here have a daiquiri and spare me the lament. When were you ever interested in anyone else other than Mark Vista? You'll go with John Cataldo just as long as he serves your purposes, and not a minute longer. Oh, you want those delegates I control all right. But not for Cataldo. He's just a pawn in your strategy to reach the top. Well, you can have them, if you think they'll help you win. But the question for you Mark, is how do you propose to get them?" she asked archly, a bit of a smile on her lips.
Man, she really had taken me back. This classy broad had old Mark figured down to a T. I was prepared for some tough bargaining, but she was up to something. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. And it disturbed the hell out of me. I wanted to take her in my hands and slap the stuffing out of her. But I realized that stuff would never work with a broad like Sally.
And I wondered too about the drink. Her behavior was weird, out of character. I couldn't put the scene together in my mind. Maybe I just wasn't cut out to portray the nice guy. I glanced down at my slacks and wondered how I was going to get on the same wave length with her.
"Listen, Sally," I blustered, "there's more to it than that. Sure a man-likes to be told he comes across as a real man ... or even the man behind the man. But in this case, it's a fact: Cataldo is the boss. I just take orders."
"Stop it, Mark, please," Sally interrupted. "We may not know each other too well, but I've heard a lot about you, big boy. To be blunt, Mark, I hear for a fact that you'd jump in bed with your grandmother if you thought it would do you any good."
Man, did she take me back on that one. That was the last kind of talk I expected from Sally. I knew she was a tough baby in hand-to-hand politics. But that kind of talk was something else again. I quickly began to consider her in a new light. Whamo! The sheer white blouse she wore began to take on more and more the signal flag of a virgin asking for it. Her ruby red slacks beckoned me like a bull enraged by a red rag. In her black pumps, she appeared exceptionally tall and desirable. I sniffed the musk of her big-breasted body and felt the throb of my own lust. I had to find out if Sally was putting me on or not.
I put down my glass and went to her. "Sally, I can't kid you," I grinned. "No sense in trying. Sure I want those delegates. For myself as much as Cataldo as you said. But right now I've got something else on my mind. And beautiful one, it isn't Cataldo or any two-bit delegates."
She opened her big mouth to speak and I locked her in my arms crushing those fabulous tits to my own hard chest. Those lovely globes strained at her bra as if they were separate beings. My mouth locked hotly on hers. My hands trailed down her back and grabbed handfuls of her marshmallow soft buttocks.
Then whoosh! I flew through the air ... off in space by myself. What the hell! I crashed shoulders first into the deep pile rug.
While I tried to focus my eyes and stifle my shock, Sally stared down at me and snarled, "Judo, Mark. I don't like to be mauled by any man. I'll call the shots. And that means any you've got stored up for me."
I was still trying to collect my senses. I sat up and rubbed my sore shoulders. I was having difficulty getting use to the fact that she had tossed me for a loop while I was making like a lover. I groaned inwardly. Man, not another Sarah Whynot. How much could one guy take in one day?
She extended me a hand up and I took it. I could feel the strength flow down through her arm and into the strong fingers that grasped mine.
"We'll play, Mark. I've always wanted to try it with you, but we'll do it my way. You want those delegates? You're going to have to earn them. Now slip off your clothes so I can .see whether you're worth going all the way or not."
My head cleared rapidly. The scene was coming into sharp focus. Sally obviously was one of those dominant females. Okay, she could be boss man. I'd play the secondary role. And anyway I always feel more certain of myself with my clothes off. It's like my natural state.
I began to undo my tie. I almost jumped out of my skivvies when she shouted? "Hold it, Mark. I'll take care of your things."
Never one to argue with a lady, I dropped my hands. But at the same time something else rose. My constant companion, sure that something was up, was coming to life like a kid on Christmas morn.
Sally moved up close, brushing me with the nipples of those massive tits, screened from sight by that white blouse. Her hands expertly undid my tie and casually tossed it on a nearby chair. She began to unbutton my shirt and visions of loveliness swept across the vista of my imagination. Behind my closed eyelids, my mind burned with the memories of sensuous trysts and eternal couplings.
My shirt was quickly off and she deftly ran her cool hands over my wide shoulders before dropping her fingers to my belt. I inhaled slightly to make it easier for her to remove the stripped strap.
Sally smiled. "That's not necessary, Mark. You have a wonderfully small waist for a man. And besides I know every inch of your body."
Since I never had consciously balled the broad, I had to take a moment to figure out that enigmatic remark. How the hell could she compliment me on my form when she never had seen it to my knowledge? I remained silent, biting my lips in the hope that my lust wouldn't become more obvious.
Then I almost shot through the ceiling. Sally had slipped her moist tongue into my armpit and was making swift circular motions. Her tongue stiffened as it darted into the bottom of one armpit after the other, whipping the hair into a wet lather.
I longed to take her head and take it to fuzzy-wuzzy land. She'd probably think it was an ice cream cone. But in the meantime, what was the rush? I knew before the hour was out I was going to get my ashes hauled by this classy broad.
"Keep your eyes closed," she murmured as her tongue swept out of my armpit and sloshed along my pectoral muscle. Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. My arms ached to grasp her as my sexual excitement increased.
Suddenly the slogan of the Grace Line Shipping Company popped into my mind. "Go with Grace." Funny it should come to mind at that moment. But I remembered that Sally had attended the same fashionable Catholic girls school in New York with Grace Kelly in the days before she was a posh princess. I wondered if they had been roommates. Again I regretted that I had never taken up teaching at a girls' school. In one semester I probably would have got enough to last a lifetime. If I had lived that long.
Her sharp command snapped me out of my crazy reverie at such a time. "Put your hands down!"
She loosened my belt and let my slacks crumple to the floor. Show you how far out I was, my only thought was that I would need to get them pressed. Who would have thought of that at the time? My prick quivered like a stallion who had just escaped from a smoke-filled barn.
I stepped out of the slacks. Instantly Sally was down on her knees and covering me with kisses. Her exquisite lips smote me like an automatic branding iron. When they fastened on my carnal cudgel I almost collapsed.
Then my legs shook to beat the band and I overflowed like the Mississippi at spring peak. Sally's luscious jetty held it all. I heard one lusty swallow and then she looked up at me as I stood reeling on my feet.
"So far, Mark, you've won two delegates. But you still need a few more to win. If you want my other two votes, you've got to really come through for me."
"I'm game," I gasped.
"Get down," she ordered. I went down like a shot, anxious to rest even briefly in an effort to recuperate my strength. Sally bent over and removed my shoes and executive-length socks. As I lay graced out before her in all my masculine splendor whose peak was once more beginning to stir, her fingers began to undo her own buttons. My eyes became two pools of fevered desire as she shook out of the blouse. Reaching behind her, she unhooked the expensive lace brassiere and flung it off. Her brown-nosed bubbies shook free and juggled before my panting tongue. Man, were they the biggest. The summits were monstrous and I happily saw that they also were taut and inflamed with her own lust. Her own sexual excitement was reaching another height.
Next she stepped out of the red slacks. I watched in awe as she pulled her snow white silk panties down over her thighs and legs. Man, what a mound of love she possessed. Her bush beckoned my trembling tongue.
"like it, Mark," she teased. She stood over me and slowly pushed her pelvis forward so that her cunt teetered overhead. "Now if you want it, come and get it. Fight me for it."
I jumped to my feet, my saber leading the way and slashing the air about me. Both naked, we crouched and squared off. I couldn't believe that I was making the scene a la Sarah Whynot again. I wondered if Sarah knew Sally.
"We'll wrestle for it," Sally said. "Who ever pins the other's shoulders down for a count of three wins the match. The winner can do anything he or she wants with the loser. Let's keep it clean," she winked.
"It's okay with me," I responded, remembering smugly my own days on the college wrestling team. I was grateful too that I had kept myself in shape. Now if I could just remember some of the holds.
We placed our hands on each other's shoulders and for a moment took the measure of each other. When my eyes strayed to her pendulous tits, she lunged and I wound up again on my back. With the deftness and dexterity of Sheena of the Jungle, Sally had acted. I lay like Tarzan's Boy, on my keester with my jungle root poking into the sky.
Sally was on top of me in a flash. My left shoulder was pinned and she was exerting her remaining strength to flatten the other one. I began to react by twisting my left leg around her right leg and applying the right pressure so that she had to ease up and loosen her hold on my right shoulder. When she did one of her gorgeous globes trailed across my face. My lips lunged and snared one immense summit. I bit gently down.
My mind flipped to another subject. I didn't realize how thirsty I was. I drank deeply on that fountain to ease it.
"You bastard," she cried. "That's against the rules and you know it. Can't you keep your mind on the match?" She slugged me right on the jaw.
I reeled from the blow but felt my left shoulder freed. Quick as a wink, I twisted about and had her sitting hard on her succulent rump.
"Sorry, baby," I said smiling. "But I figured I had a right to a swig since I didn't get to finish my daiquiri. Maybe now we're even."
And with that, I whipped my feet around her slim ankles, placed my hands on her shoulder and shoved her onto the rug. While she was still off balance, I spread her and let my friend rip into his favorite burrow. She wriggled desperately to escape his entrance. But the more she struggled, the easier it went home for me.
The hilt hit home. She immediately relaxed. I felt a warm moist container envelop it. I was set to begin my usual race when I remembered that if I wanted those votes I had better let Sally take the lead.
I eased off ever so slightly. Yet she became aware of it and acted instantly. Over I shot again on my back! Damned if I really knew how she did it. Sally was aloft again. She drove her knees into my inner thighs, stretched my arms and coupled my wrists with her hands. I fought back just hard enough so she couldn't quite pin my shoulders.
As she wrestled to remain on top, her dangling breasts brushed against my chest. The nipples were as hard as rocks from rubbing against my curly hair. From the look on her face I could see that it was important for her to win. Hell, if she wanted to crow about her conquest, let her.
I made one last attempt to try and break free. She thought it was the real thing and pressed with all her strength to lock me fast to the floor. For a few lousy delegates, let her win.
"Okay, okay, Sally," I gasped. "You win. Uncle!"
Her face was a cruel bitchy mask, she sneered and blurted out, "That's right, uncle. I've pinned you and don't forget it."
She popped her legs from my inner thighs and straddled my legs. Her hairy slit was wide open. She lifted up on it and dropped it over my male root. Man, I could feel it going in every inch of the way.
Sally leaned over me and I mouthed one of her aristocratic breasts with their regal crowns. Then I switched to the other. In minutes the old tips were red and ripe in the midst of big brown aureoles.
"Oh, oh, oh," slipped from her yawning lips.
With that as the signal, I placed a token in the box and took off down the track. Sally hung on for dear life. I did a quick flip to regain the dominant male position for the ride. My hard flat stomach pounded against Sally's soft round beHy. A look at her bobbing breasts showed me they were gorged with blood and inflamed with lust.
"like it, Sally? like it?" I called excitedly. "Big enough for you. Fill the old spot right up, does it?"
"You can't have any idea how good it feels, Mark," she murmured. "You are the greatest. What a tool. Now I know what it feels like to sit down on a big spike. Woweee!"
Sally rose up and down like she was trying for a world's record. I clasped her fiercely to me. Her breasts were squashed like red hot melons against my chest. A sense of mystic ecstasy enveloped us. Now my hands were gripping her buttocks, playing the pliant flesh.
Her mouth rose up to lock on my ready lips. Her tongue shot in like a snake and twirled around and around with the confines of my cheeks. If I had had any cavities, she would have sucked the silver right out of them. As it was she seemed to be licking my Adam's apple.
Our bodies rolled and clashed on the sweat stained rug. I pulled her closer and closer, seeking to become one in her heated body. Sally now was half swooning but loving every second of it. I surged without letup against her in a frenzied rhythm of sensual slapping.
The time had come to shoot the moon. I ripped it down to the tip, making like a corkscrew popping open a bottle of good vintage wine. For a minute I drove and twisted, ramming her into the rug. She broke her lips away and drooled her pleasure into my ear.
My climax melted the two of us into one big white ball of heat. Sally screamed eerily into my ear as I felt the flood. I loosed it in one great stream. My body was alternately racked by pain and pleasure as the colors of the rainbow shot across my firmament.
Exhausted, we clung limply together for a few minutes. We both were silent, reveling in the pleasure we had given each other. I planted soft kisses on her face and neck. My hand gently kneaded one of her relaxed nipples. We were at peace with each other and the world.
Finally, I rolled off her. Time to get cracking again. Sally remained sprawled on the rug. As I withdrew, she slapped her thighs together to hold my meat tight within her belly. Her eyes were shut, the lids fluttering like two butterfly wings.
Emerging from the bathroom, I quickly dressed. Sally still stretched motionlessly on the rug. Now her hands rested on her breasts. The fingers kneaded the breasts to which I had clung so fervently.
"Sally," I called in a hushed voice. I wasn't sure if she had fallen to sleep. I got no response and headed for the door.
I was about to open it when she called, "Mark tell Cataldo that you can have my votes. He should be a winner with a man like you on his team."
I nodded in gratitude. My eyes roamed over her womanly wares. A tingling stirred deep within my guts. No time for that now. I quickly opened the door and stepped out.
Outside, I leaned wearily against the wall for a moment and lit up a cigarette. The tobacco tasted good and relaxed me as it swirled around inside my lungs.
With her votes, I figured Cataldo now had a sure 299 votes. Now we only needed two more and we would be in business. We'd have to go to work on the few holdouts. Or woo away two of Ward's.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER TWO WHEN I RETURNED TO MY own suite. I felt cruddy and stripped down and jumped into the shower. I played the hot water over myself and then gradually turned up the cold tap. Out of the shower, I gave myself a brisk rubdown.
I thought my color was a bit off when I studied my features in the mirror. Within a minute I was under my portable sun lamp. A fast call to room service brought the bellhop running with a half bottle of Moselle '47 and eight large raw oysters. They were delicious and I slipped them down my gullet followed by a mouthful of the Moselle. Refreshed, I dressed in a completely new outfit from the skin out.
I checked on my TV set and found that the dull nominating speeches were still going on. The cameras panned the auditorium and showed it mostly vacant of delegates. The biggest crowd was in the balcony where the spectators were permitted to watch the proceedings. Suckers, I thought. If they were hipped, they'd know there wouldn't be a thing doing until later in the evening.
Dressed and ready to go again, I dialed Cataldo's suite. Tony Boffo answered and quickly filled me in. That was one thing about Tony. Facts and no baloney. He would have made a good wire service reporter.
I briefed Tony, without going into too many lurid details, about my success with Sally Fitzpatrick. He was genuinely delighted. I could tell from his voice. One thing about Tony; he was no phony. He said he would pass the information right along to Johnny who was just winding up lunch with some big-money people. Tony also tipped me to the fact that Ima Leigh was in town and how happy Johnny was that the White House was supporting his candidacy for the nomination all the way. I acted surprised and said it was a sure sign that we should go all the way.
"Wonderful, Tony," I said wrapping up our talk. "Tell Johnny I'll be busy until about four o'clock with that party I have set for the delegates. Incidentally, Tony, you've got nothing to keep you too busy, come on by. You might want to get a little bit of the action."
Tony said he would try to make it and we rang off. I slipped into my suit coat and checked myself for the last time in a full-length mirror. My stomach felt a bit queasy. Not from the oysters. I love them. But the tension was beginning to build up inside. I could play it cool with others, but there was no kidding myself. I wanted Cataldo to win. It was my big chance to break through. To find a room at the top. It had been a risk leaving the wire services after so many years. Everybody said I had been crazy. That I had too much time invested to toss it away. But I had argued that I wanted to make a break through salary wise and you couldn't do it sticking in the lousy news business.
I stepped out of the suite and headed for the elevator. The hallways were busy with people coming and going. I nodded to everyone to be on the safe side. I didn't want any reports getting back to Johnny later that I was a stuck-up S.O.B. He'd ream me out good.
I kept thinking how we were only two delegates away from victory. We had to get them. The workout with Sally had produced very worthwhile results, but had not taken us over the top. Then too there was always the chance that Ward might steal away some delegates that had been in the fold. All the candidates were out-promising each other at that stage. Promise the delegates anything. Later you could tell them to whistle.
As far as I was personally concerned, there were three ways to appeal to a guy outside of a direct payoff offer. You can feed them, liquor them up, and get their ashes hauled. Put all three together and you've got an unbreakable combination for success.
I looked around outside the rooms I had lined up for the party. From the hallway, no one passing by would ever know about the action inside. The management had these rooms especially soundproofed. It didn't want any old bags complaining to the cops or any do-gooders. Satisfied no one saw me, I slipped in the key and slipped quickly through the doorway. Shutting that door behind me, I then opened a heavy padded second door and it sounded like pandemonium.
There were at least twenty delegates whooping it up, although they were making enough noise for a hundred guys. The rooms were filled with swirling smoke and resounded with hearty laughter and shouting. Everyone obviously was having a ball. I could hear them arguing about who was going first as they downed the booze and helped themselves to the cold cuts and delicatessen on a long table.
They were putting the drinks away in good order as they worked up to the moment when they would be putting their dip sticks into those black oil burners hired for the occasion. The place sure would be smoking soon.
What a bunch of slobs, I thought. Animals, that's all they were. Well I knew what they wanted and was going to make sure they all got it. They had better make sure I got their votes and any others they controlled. This shindig was costing Cataldo a fortune. I knew he wouldn't mind the expense as long as it paid off.
I looked around for the two broads we had hired. They stood in separate corners of the room surrounded by a group of the party-goers. Some of the guys were laughing like hell and reaching to snap the nipples on their gigantic bubs. Other guys were trying to get the girls to slip out of their black panty girdles so they could put an offering into their cups. Delegates in the rear were egging on their cronies up front with ribald humor and wise-aleck remarks.
I had to adjust my own corkscrew which had sprung into action from my close scrutiny of those twin Nubian beauties standing there with their big tits bared and only panty girdles around the hips. Black lace stockings covered their beautifully molded legs which stretched up from within spiked high heels.
They looked like a good pair to ride. But I had to remind myself that I was there only as a spectator not as a participant. These broads had been hired for the political farmers. The delegates could chew on their cud, but I was host and had to play Virgil the virgin until everybody was taken care of in a satisfactory manner.
I started to walk across the wide room for a closer look at one of the black broads. As I did so, I heard a sexy low moan from a side room. And from the other sounds, somebody sure was going to town. Sounded like a couple of Amazons going at it.
I was a bit surprised as I thought Cataldo said he was only going to pay for two girls. Guess he went for three, was my conclusion. Probably would need them as these delegates looked like they were ready to make mince meat with their stirrers. A third one would come in handy and probably blow some life into them later. We had to wind this up early enough so we could get these guys sobered up and back on to the floor to vote tonight.
The sounds from the side room subsided somewhat. Next it sounded like someone was getting his tubes blown out. What the hell, I figured. Anything for the cause of good government.
I came up to one of the groups and felt myself getting bigger and harder. I had to fight to remember my admirable sentiments. To be heard above the din, I hollered: "Hi, fellows, having a ball or is it a box?"
A half dozen of the guys turned to greet me. They gave me the big smiles and the glad-hand routine. "Mark, great blast. Thanks for the action. Just great. Greatest," they shouted to me. I smiled in return.
Another called out, "Hey, Mark, man oh man, I just love the jungle-jangles on these dark Amazons." Giving emphasis to his words, he started flipping the black broad's big spheres. They jumped and bobbed above. His hands grabbed the ends and began working them. The summits sprung out and were as hard as a rock. She seemed to be enjoying it. A big smile spread across her flat features and she bared sparkling white teeth.
I turned to see how the other hooker was making out with these tigers I had loosed on them. Right off, I spotted Herby Thomas by his white socks. He's a real farmer. Wears white woolen socks with suits. Anyway I spot the socks that were Herby's trademark. He's down on his knees in front of the darky with his tongue lapping the inner thighs of her lovely legs. She appeared to tower over him as she stood tall and straight atop her high heels.
That broad wore the same theatrical smile as her co-whore. I was sure it would be there all afternoon no matter what the guys did to them. What the hell, they were going to get two-hundred and fifty apiece. Not a bad day's pay in any league.
I began to figure I wasn't any better than the other guys. My old thing was throbbing to get into action. The damn thing was insatiable. It really popped when I saw that the first broad now had her girdle off and a couple of the guys were combing her coarse black hair around the love gash.
It wouldn't be long now before the two of them were flat out like the third broad in the side room. I noticed that a couple of the delegates were getting loaded. They were sprawled against the walls with their trousers off.
Now I saw that the second queen was naked. She was down on her hands and knees with three of the guys playing around. One had his clothes off and was riding her bare back, jabbing her in the back of the head with his joy stick. Another one of the guys was under her sucking away at those pendulous bubbies hanging down toward the floor.
The third member of this trio was on his knees behind her. He kept making an approach and missing. Finally, he got so excited that he popped anyway. He passed out at the same time and another eager bugger rolled him out of the way so he could try his luck.
I glanced back at the first broad and decided instantly that she must have been a star female athlete at Howard University a few years back. She was laid out on her big buttocks. Her strong legs were straight up in the air supported somewhat by her hands clasped about the muscled thighs.
One of my friends stood over her stretching the legs far apart. I thought for a minute that he was trying to split her wide open for a roast. His buddy had the best of it though. His hound dog was gripped between her full lips while his head hung low between her thighs and his tongue was taking her measurements.
Man, I thought, the party sure was getting off the ground. Guys were exploding all over the place. I could hear them shouting and screaming as they popped. Some were rolling around on the floor after finishing their performances. Others were up on the chairs and even the table trying to get a better look at the action.
A couple of delegates were off by themselves. They were banging their heads against the walls while their hands flailed away. They just couldn't wait their turn.
I was now the only guy in the place with his clothes still on. I felt as conspicuous as hell, but nobody actually was paying the least bit of attention to me. They were too busy waiting their turn to crawl into the depths of those two licorice bins.
I drifted back to light up a cigarette and take another look at the situation. I had decided by then that I was going to get into the act. But only after everybody else had been taken care of.
I noticed that the traffic was picking up to the side room where the third babe was working. I'd have to check that out pretty soon now. Must be real hot material the way the guys were coming and going. She seemed to be taking on more than the other two black broads between them.
I was wondering which of the darkies I was going to ride first when two of the guys grabbed me in friendly fashion. They started to haul me out into the center of the room. My first reaction was to show them a little judo, but I quickly remembered what the hell I was doing there and relaxed. Let the silly asses have their fun. They probably just wanted to show me how they appreciated my getting their golf balls down to bare rubber.
When the rest of the crowd saw me out in the middle of the room, they all gathered around. Probably figured it was a good time to take a breather. "C'mon, Mark, show us how it's done. Show us all your tricks, Markie baby. You can do 'em all from what we hear."
I was going to hang back and remind them that it was their party. But they were in no mood to hear my generous pleas. They wanted to see me in action and crowded around to begin taking off my clothes. My only concern was that they might spoil my threads but then shrugged it off. What the hell, I could always present Cataldo with a bill for a new suit. If we won, he couldn't care less about another two-hundred-dollar suit for me.
In about a minute I found myself stripped right down to my shorts. I hollered for a halt. I had never been stripped naked by a bunch of guys and I didn't intend to start then. Especially now when I was being watched by those two big black whores. I called the guys to back off and told the two darkies to come on forward. The two long-legged broads wiggled their buttocks and walked right up to me, pushing their bouncing bubbies right into my face.
"Okay, girls, let's see you do your stuff," I said, trying to play it cool although I was as hot as hell to trot.
The tallest one gracefully got down on her knees and parted the opening of my shorts. My friend popped right out, ready to do his duty for the cause of brotherhood and integration.
"What's your name, baby," I asked.
"Dolly, white man. Dolly," she said in a voice that echoed of cottonfields and nights of love down I on the old Mississippi. No wonder those plantation owners were always jumping into bed with their dark hands.
Dolly's teeth gleamed in the dim light as she opened her mouth wide to take it all inside. She bent her head back at the same time and looked up at me with the big whites of her brown eyes. I wiggled my ass so she could get the best possible grip. I shivered repeatedly as the tip of her hot tongue worked. Her huge breasts rammed again and again against my knees.
Dolly then took hold of each side of the opening of my shorts and in the next instant ripped them right off me. Those shorts split apart like they never had been on a loom. Oh, sweet fruit, I thought, we are going to slice you right down to the pit tonight.
At that moment I became conscious that Dolly's friend, June, was at work behind me. My buttocks quivered as she slapped her wet tongue around on them like a miniature mop. June's hand grabbed both my cheeks. I almost shot off the floor as she jabbed me with her tongue. Felt like a small flame thrower.
Dolly meantime was going at it without letup. I heard only two sounds over the admiring shouts of the guys. One was the soft sweet slurping of Dolly like she was sucking the juice out of sparerib, and the other was June babes.
To tell the truth I felt temporarily useless. I was just standing there with my bare bottom hanging out. I had nothing really much to do while those two jungle giantesses enveloped me in the suds of sweet saliva.
The guys really cheered when I bent over slightly so June could probe deeper. I put my hands into Dolly's kinky hair and pulled her head closer to she could get a better grip on her end.
Suddenly, the queen in the rear gave me a poke that felt like she was going right through me. I jerked forward to pour my hot juices down Dolly's gullet. She choked up a bit in surprise. I kept banging away as my goodies flowed.
"Hold it, girls," I hollered. I decided I wanted to go the route myself.
Dolly and June eased off with big smiles wreathing their fat lips. Besides, they knew I was paying the freight and what I said went.
"Let's play ring around the rosy," I said.
The guys roared in approval and moved in for a good look. June and Dolly at my request popped down on the rug. I stretched both of them out. My hands eagerly ran over the contours of Dolly's shape. A couple of fingers checked the tightness of her vagina. Dolly laughed and made a grab for my tool which was beginning to respond again. I smiled and jerked it out of reach.
"Bend at the waist, Dolly," I said. "We're going to form a circle on the floor. You do the same thing June. That's right close it up now. But leave room for me to get in the circle."
The girls quickly whipped their stark naked bodies about on the rug to obey my bidding.
June surprised me a bit. I had been running my hands over her velvety skin, hovering about her black nest when her mouth darted forward to grab my whang. She began to suck vigorously. The guys roared like a cage of lions in heat. They still weren't sure what was coming but they knew for a fact that Mark Vista was a swinger and that he usually swings from the tree-tops.
With the two babes properly stretched out and my friend freed from June's lips, I got down on the rug between them so our nude bodies formed a circle of gleaming skin. June's lips immediately returned to their work. I smiled. June had been the route of the circle of love before. I pulled Dolly around so I could get at it myself. She raised her legs willingly. At the same time, she grabbed hold of June's legs and pulled her in tight so she could put her tongue to work.
The three of us then settled into the most comfortable positions so we could eat in peace. I felt my tongue almost come out at the root as Dolly flexed her muscles. My head gyrated like the blades of a helicopter as my nostrils filled with the odor of her.
June chomped away in a professional and dignified manner as though she were a queen riding up the Chisholm Trail. I began popping almost at once. She just kept taking it down and chomping away. Wonder my heat didn't melt the gold in her big pearly whites.
The guys were going right out of their mind as they watched our act. We were all working away and they started singing Negro folk songs. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see some of them slathering at the mouth. This was one stag show they would never forget, that was for sure. If this performance didn't help to win the nomination for Cataldo, nothing would. I was sure of that.
June and Dolly finally pooped and popped together and fell away briefly exhausted. They may have had it, but I was still raring to go. As I rolled aside, I was almost killed in the rush as about eight guys rushed to get at them. No opening was too big or small for what those good public servants had in mind. If I had been a little slower I might have been poked to death myself.
My head had just about blown its top and my eyes revolved slowly inside their sockets as I staggered over to one side of the room to take a break. Man, I was dying for a smoke. Obviously no one had any on them as they were all running around as bare-assed as the day they were born. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. I needed a smoke badly.
I wondered if the third broad off in the side room by herself would have any. Besides, I was curious to check her out and find out what she had that all the guys found so damn interesting.
CHAPTER TEN
I PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR TO FIND THE ROOM WAS pitch black, just like the swollen beauty I figured was sprawled somewhere within its confines. I closed the door behind me and bolted it. I was determined to have this Nubian queen without any audience.
"Hey," I called. "Where the hell are you? Isn't there any light at all in this pad?"
In response I only heard a deep sigh from a far corner. Gradually, I became accustomed to the darkness and shortly could begin to make out vague forms in the room. It was the damndest thing. Apparently there was a source of very soft light around the baseboard which could be controlled by who ever was in the sack. Not a bad set up.
"Hey, honey," I called again. "Are you ready for another?"
Still no reply, but I didn't need one as I could now make out the blurred outlines of the big bed in the corner. And on the dark expanse of that pad of pleasure I could discern the outline of what appeared to be an extremely lithe form. That bed, I figured, had been seeing more action than the roller coaster gets all summer.
"Hey, baby, my little ole nigger baby, are you awake?"
There was no answer. I walked toward the bed. Two well-formed arms reached to encompass me. Despite the light, I could see that she was fairly light. A real high yellow. Should be nice and sweet. Fast as hell. like a burp gun. That's the way those broads go. Boom, boom, boom.
She must have turned the button because the room got a little darker again. Yet, I was able to see that she had hard-pointed tits that pointed at the ceiling. Sensuously, she dropped her arms. Her hands slipped up her taut rib cage and gracefully cupped those firm cones. Her thumbs twirled teasingly around the rims of her nipples. Man, was she asking for it. My masculinity responded to the scent and pointed the way. I couldn't stop staring at those nipples which resembled two red currants ready to be plucked and popped into my mouth.
I came up against the side of the bed. My knees pushed against the sheeted mattress. Without a word, she rolled over and her hot lips were fastened on my magic marker. I hoisted myself aboard by my knees. My hand searched for her feminine foliage and my finger penetrated her pussy, which was as soft and lush as jungle vegetation after the monsoons.
While she still clasped me to her, my lips went down to drink at her fountains. I alternately sucked and washed those minarets of ecstasy. Her lips brought me to a full head of steam and I blew it into her chugging engine.
Surprisingly, my fuse did not sputter and go out. She kept working it with those succulent lips and it kept its full size. I figured she would rather have a replacement for my overworked finger, so I gently eased away from her clinging lips.
"Relax, baby," I said. "I'll be right back. I'm going to give you a treat."
She sighed and rolled over on her back. There was something awfully familiar about this broad. The light was turned down so I couldn't make out her features at all. But there was something about her that kept ringing a far away bell. I don't know if it was the shape of her bubbies, the taste of her in my mouth, or the smell of her lushness in my nostrils, or maybe it was an amalgam of all of them But in any case I'd have my time first and then check her out in the light.
I slipped around to the bottom of the big bed and started washing her all over with my tongue starting from the bottom of her feet. First one leg and then the other. They were closely clean-shaven and smelled lingeringly of Midnight Passion. It seemed as if my darting tongue popped into every pore as it washed its way toward paradise.
This broad was going right out of her mind. My mouth watered from the touch of her sweet soft flesh. She was a bundle of sweet, pulsating flesh and I wanted to lap every inch of it. No broad can play it cool when she's going around the world with you.
My mind went back through the years to the first time. It was in Toronto. I had been sent up there to do a first person interview with Billy Bishop the World War I flying ace. It was about a year before he died in Miami. He was one hell of a guy. And what a life he led.
Anyway, I picked myself up a Canuck in the bar of the Sassoon. She initiated me into the delights of the tongue job. She did it to me first and then I reciprocated. She pantingly told me that the wash-up gives every broad the heebie-jeebies. She said that by the time you reach their safe deposit box, they are ready to give away their life's savings.
As long as I lived, I always remember her. What the hell was her name? Must be getting old. Charlene. Black hair. Beautiful white velvet skin. Man, did she know how to use her equipment. We still sent each other Christmas cards, and occasionally got together when she came to town. She was married and had three kids, but it didn't make any difference. After a!, broads like to get some strange stuff once in a while too, you know.
Now I was at her knees. My strong lips sucked the flesh into my mouth. My hands made small circles on her thighs. The broad sighed and raised up her knees and spread her thighs. I sloshed her all over with my tireless tongue. Up the back of her thighs, over her shivering buttocks.
My tongue teased the lovely hollow in the small of her back. She groaned with delight as I flipped her over and wet her round belly. My tongue swirled in her navel. Her strong hands grabbed my head and began pressing it down with a fierce urgency. She arched her buttocks to receive my hot caresses like a cat on a hot tin roof.
I placed my hands on her proud and bold breasts, the nipples rose up to nuzzle my palms. Her arms were locked round my shoulders. She pulled her to me and I felt her breasts like two red hot pillows branding my chest. She alternately shivered and whimpered as my tongue washed her all over.
The sensation shooting from her shaking body tipped me that she was about to go to the moon. But I wasn't. I still wanted to finish my scrubbing technique. My lips were at her most secret part. I pressed her lips and met with a scorching pleasure which was recorded by the intense motions of our constant rampaging bodies.
We melted nearly into each other's forms. My perfecto became immense from her handwork. It grew larger than any tobacco leaf in existence. All my senses seemed attuned to hers. I thought my black beauty was reverting to her jungle ancestors and beyond that into a lioness. She seemed to be jumping from rock to dune, from tree to her helpless prey. She was taking me all in with one large gulp.
I quickly changed positions before all the blood rushed to my head. The tool of my trade entered her secret spot. It went in so fast and hard that she cried out momentarily in pain and wonder. Again, I sensed a familiarity with this black beauty riding along with me. It seemed as though we had gone this route together many, many times in the past and in the not so distant past either.
My masculinity was so much a part of her that I thought my entire body was going to follow my sword into that scabbard. The pulsating pussy rocked in all directions at once as though she were on an electric griddle and no one spot would permit her any surcease from the tiny shocks that seemed to be hitting every pore of her flesh.
Time and again the tide of her wanton passion swept over the sandbar of my lust. I did everything I could with the fierceness of my strongest will power and the muscles of my innermost being to hold back the flood. I didn't want to get washed off that reef of sensuality until I was ready to raise the flood gates of the dam.
But finally I had no strength left to continue holding on. From somewhere at the grand level I felt the throes of a tidal wave sweeping up and over me. When it hit my groin. I halted it for a split second and felt at that moment like all the Tarzans of the world put together as one. Underneath me! Jane writhed about in preparation to receive me.
The surge of my maleness lapped against the root of my life. I fought to hold it for another second. The broad tossed about on the bed like a rubber dinghy in an ocean storm. I decided I couldn't hold it any longer. I rammed myself in to the hilt. She jumped and then moaned and strained against my tense flesh. She was keeping right up with my desire. My tongue grappled with hers in an unrefereed match. She whimpered and shivered anew. I loosed my jet juices and they streamed in a steady array into her. She sighed and gurgled all in the same breath as I drowned her in a sea of creamy delight. The tidal wave engulfed me, twirling my body p to the crest of that perfect wave all of us, in one way or another, always seek throughout our lives. The bed, the darkened room whirled about in radiant bliss and dizzy pleasure as I jetted again and again into that beloved purse.
Then I almost fell off the sheets. The broad, her legs fast around me, whispered, "Oh, Mark, that was wonderful. I was wondering if you would ever get to me tonight, you old show off."
I rose up on my elbows. My eyes strained to pierce the gloom of the room. Now I could see her. The halo glowed from the hair which was all my great happiness. That flaxen hair would remain fixed in my brain until the day I died. How many times had I held it fast in my hands while riding to the foxes and hound. No wonder I constantly was struck with the familiarity of this dynamic woman beneath me. After all, once you have it with Lita Leary, you never forget.
"Lita for cripes sakes," I cried. "What the hell gives?"
"Well, Mark lover boy," she sighed, "you know how much I wanted to get together again with you this weekend. I know you've been straight out in more ways than one and of course I've been breaking my sweet hump for Tom, so when my spies told me about this little party you had set for this afternoon, I. just had to declare myself in. You don't mind, do you, Mark?"
Hell, what could I say. "You know you can declare yourself in any time with me, Lita. It's just that I thought I was going to town with a black beauty and all the time it's you. Don't get me wrong. You're still the best. In fact, I knew all the time we were going at it that there was something familiar about the saddle I was riding."
"Oh, Mark!" she said. "You always say the nicest things." She stretched slowly, the bottoms of her feet rubbing against the edge of the bed. She rolled over a bit to make it easy for me to cup one of her golden globes in my eager fingers. I sensed her nipples beginning to gorge with blood. I eased off a bit. It must be getting late and I had to do about forty different things.
"How's it look for you people?" I asked. "I hope you aren't here to steal any delegates away from Cataldo."
Lita laughed her magic trilling laugh. "Don't worry, Mark. I never mix business and pleasure. And that was strictly pleasure."
"I believe you, doll. But how are you doing. Is Tom going to slip by Cataldo?"
"Now, Mark," Lita scolded slightly. "You're fishing for information. Let me just say that we haven't got it sewed up yet, but then I know for a fact that you haven't got the nomination yet either. The way I see it you people are about two or three votes away. We're right up there."
I wondered who Tom had gotten to in his efforts to pick up the new votes. I had gone the route for Sally to bring us within two votes of the nomination. Two votes, cripes, I remembered again how important it was for my own personal future to get those other two votes. Where the hell were they going to come from. T wondered just how much I meant to Lita.
"Lita, baby," I gushed, ashamed of what I was going to try to do, "we've been good friends a long time. You know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. How about you for me?"
"I don't know. What are you up to now, Mark?"
"I never tried to pull the wool over your eyes. Lita. We're hurting unless we get those two other votes. If the roll call goes into a first round deadlock, some of our delegates probably will start switching to Tom. Once they start, they'll be no holding the others back. You know how important this is to me. Cataldo loses, I've got nothing. Tom loses and you're still married to a millionaire. Isn't there some way you can clue me in without betraying Tom?"
"Mark," she said, "I'd like to help you. I know how much this means to you and all. But I don't know how. I obviously can't give you any of our votes. What about Ima Leigh? It's all over the hotel that the White House has sent her up here ostensibly to help Johnny. How much more help do you people need?"
"I'm sure Ima is doing everything possible, Lita. But let's face it: this convention was fairly well sewed up between my man and Tom Ward before she arrived. And she really hasn't got a good grasp on the local situation in the state. You can read figures and graphs in Washington, but it's not the same thing as being on the scene and knowing the people involved first hand like you and me. No, I've got to come at it from some different angle, or other way. But I'll be damned if I know how."
We were both silent for a minute letting our fingers trail over each other's bodies. Again my fingers nipped her buds. Again they were instantly gorged with hot blood. Old Lita, she never does get enough.
"What about Jim Swenson or Mike Napolitano? I know we haven't been able to budge either one of them yet. Maybe you can do something through their wives. Alice Swenson is about forty but still a looker. Mike's wife is a real Bohemian. Poetry, jazz, the whole route. Maybe even LSD, Batman, pop art."
"I don't know," I replied hesitantly. "Both of them are two tough nuts to crack. They've got two votes apiece and are holding on to them for dear life."
Our conversation was interrupted by a brusque knocking at the door. Thank heavens I had locked the damn thing.
"Yeh, who is it?"
"Mr. Vista, it's the bellhop. Time to wrap it up. You said to tell you when it's four-fifteen."
"Okay. Right. Thanks." I bounded out of bed. It was getting late. "Lita, thanks, baby. I'll try Swenson's wife. The other broad is too kookie for me at this stage of the game. I just don't feel like reading Kerouac or Ginsberg right now. I hate to eat and run, but you understand, don't you."
Lita laid sprawled on the sheets. "Yes, of course. Good luck to you. Win or lose, you'll still be tops in my book. You can come and write a chapter in it any time lover man. I'll look for you in the hall tonight. I'd still like to make it with the daiquiris."
"Thanks, sweets, for being so understanding. Here's a big kiss. You want to make it any more with these guys?"
"No thanks, Mark, I've had enough for now," she replied very matter-of-factly. The broad killed me. She could take on the whole Legislature and still have room for more.
I gave her a fast peck on the forehead and left.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER THAT SURPRISING WORKOUT, I HAD TO SHOOT back up to my room for another quick shower and new change. Frankly, I really felt cruddy and gave myself a good scrub. It wasn't so much the fun with Lita as the whole damn setup. I guess my conscience was bothering me after the party. But you have to be practical to get along in this world. That's the way you play the ball game if you want to hit a home run. It's a lousy setup, but the world mostly stinks anyway, so what are you going to do. Try and be a nice guy and do the right thing and you'll get dumped on your keester every time.
Washed, dressed and cologned, I went along up to Cataldo's suite for our five o'clock meeting. Tony and Phil already were on deck, and I no sooner had poured myself a J & B Rare Scotch and soda than Cataldo popped into the room. He nodded briefly, whipped off his jacket, took ' a proffered drink from Phil and plumped down in a deep leather arm chair.
"Okay, okay, what kind of shape are we? Everything going according to schedule? What's next on the agenda?" His questions poured from between his fat lips in machine-gun fashion. We just kept silent until he was finished. There was no sense of trying to reply because he would just go on asking more questions. By this time, we knew enough to stay tight-lipped until he leaned back exhausted. When he was breathless we could begin making our reports.
Cataldo finished up his line of questions and plopped back against the head rest. Phil immediately jumped into the gap and gave a rundown on his activities. I listened closely since Phil actually was under my command and I was interested in what he had been up to. Sounded all right. That was fine by me. Just one less headache. I'd have to watch him like a hawk though because sooner or later he was going to get overly ambitious and strike for my job. When he did I was going to stomp him right into the ground. Might even cut his gonads off at the same time just for being such a smart guy.
Phil wound up his report. Tony looked at me and nodded. That was typical of Tony. Class. He was considerate enough to check to see if I wanted to go ahead. Tony went on for about six minutes. His report was tight, to the point, and mostly favorable. He got a favorable nod from Cataldo when he signified that he had finished.
Cataldo then looked at me but my mouth already was open and the report was flying out. "What it all comes down to Johnny is that we are still two lousy votes away from sewing up the nomination. My stint with Sally Fitzpatrick brought us in four more votes to raise our overall tally to 299. It's as simple as that. Does any one have any suggestions as to how we pick up the other two. As far as I know Swenson and Mike Napolitano aren't ready to deal yet. The silly bastards are hoping for a deadlock and the chance to slip in a darkhorse."
"Those two S.O.B.'s," Cataldo spit out. "If it wasn't for me Mike Napolitano would still be digging ditches. The faker. I'm the guy that worked the deals to get him on the Liquor Commission. Thinks he's a big shot now, huh? I'll fix his wagon good for him. Ought to have him bumped off."
We all kept silent. It didn't do any good to interrupt when Johnny got all wound up. And I didn't doubt for a minute that he could have had Mike dropped into the bay wearing cement shoes. He was a tough guy to cross. Man, I'd be in a sling if he ever knew how I had made it with Angela.
"Okay, okay, so what are we to do? C'mon, what the hell am I paying you guys for anyway?"
"Take it easy, Johnny," Tony Boffo said. "We'll think it out. Just stay cool."
Tony could get away talking to Johnny like that. They went way back together.
"Cool it, Tony, for cripes sakes. It's almost that time. What do you think I've worked so hard all my life for. You want me to blow it now. We've come too far together to see it all go up in smoke. Now let's get hot on it."
"There is one chance, Johnny," I said. "But I want to discuss it privately. Just with you and Tony."
Phil came up out of his chair like he had been gored. "What the hell is this? There's nothing I shouldn't know about."
"Shut up!" Cataldo roared. "Shut up you silly little ass! You acting like a prima donna at a time like this. Now get the hell out of here so I can talk to Mark."
Phil got up from his chair. His eyes were filled with hate. I would have been dead I'm sure if he had a weapon handy. Right then and there, I made up my mind to get rid of that slob as soon as we copped the nomination. Once he shut the door behind him, I turned to look at Cataldo and Tony. Tony's eyes warned me to go slowly and surely.
"All right, Mark, let's have it, "Johnny snarled. "And it better be good."
"We need two votes to win. Swenson has two votes. We can't budge him. Maybe we can do it through his wife. I've already checked and found she's at home in Glenmont. It's about half an hour's drive. I go out there and make the scene. She prevails on the husband to toss his votes to you."
"Wait a minute, Mark. I know you're good, but what if she takes it and-likes it sure, but tells you to go to hell. You tell her husband she'll say you're a liar."
"Tony comes with me, Johnny," I said. "He stays outside until the action commences. Then he takes some photos. Tony's good at it."
Tony interrupted, "Sure I still know how to operate a camera, Mark, but we're not going to have time to get back to a lab, develop the negatives and print up some pictures in time. The voting could already be starting by then."
"Yeh, that's right, Mark," Johnny interjected, hie swarthy face darkening. "You've got to do better than that."
"It's still good," I said confidently. "I've carried it one step further. Instant pictures remember. Polaroid film. One minute after the action the picture is all developed and in your hand."
Johnny and Tony looked at each other and smiled, nodding their heads. Both of them turned to bestow eyes filled with admiration upon me.
"Mark, you are a clever bastard," Johnny said "no matter what Angela says. You're all right."
My heart leaped. What the hell did he mean by that cryptic remark about Angela? That silly broad hadn't squealed had she. He'd kill me. It took all my will power to appear relaxed and grateful for their admiration.
"Glad you like it, Johnny. I suggest that Tony and I get going. Tony can pick up his camera and meet me in the garage. Section F. Go down the service elevator so we can get out of the building without being seen. With a little bit of luck we should be back here by eight o'clock or so. I'll call Alice Swenson with some phony story for seeing her."
Tony already was on his feet. I jumped up. Johnny looked up at both of us. "Okay, okay, get going. Make it good, Mark. This may be our last chance. I'll have Phil keep after the press as well as the radio and TV people."
Tony and I flicked a finger in good-bye and quickly left the suite. Outside we parted to go our separate ways.
Back in my room I quickly found the Swenson's telephone number and rang it up. Man, she had better be home. After the third ring, the number was answered. A woman's soft voice said, "Hello, Swenson residence." I was taken back a bit. Residence. I didn't figure the Swensons to have enough dough for a maid.
"Hello, Mrs. Swenson, please."
"One moment, sir," the voice said. About ten seconds later another voice came on. Only this voice was huskier more mature. "Yes, hello. Mrs. Swenson here."
She really sounded bucks up on the phone and she had one of those real Vassar accents. You know like she had trouble breathing and it was all too much.
I was at my glib best. I explained that T was with the A.P. and that my editor had sent me up from Washington to do articles on all the candidates' wives. I had completed my assignment except for her. Would it be possible to see her? She hesitated, but I assured her it would only take about a moment. She agreed to see me if I came right out. We rang off.
Five minutes later with Tony in the front seat beside me I drove out of the hotel garage in my Mustang and wheeled north along the boulevard. It was getting dark already and I put on my lights. Didn't want any cop stopping me now.
As we connected with the State highway and roared to the west and Glenmont, Tony said, "How do you see this one, Mark? Fill me in."
"This is going to come as a surprise, Tony. But it's right off the top of my head. I knew we weren't getting anywhere with the male Swenson and Napolitano, so I figured we had nothing to lose trying one of their old ladies."
"Well, do you know this Swenson broad at all," he asked.
"Never saw her in my life to my knowledge."
"Oh, man!" Tony murmured. "We're going into this cold? I hope you know what you're doing, Mark. Johnny is getting desperate. We blow it and he'll flatten us both. Believe me! I've known him a long time. And there's something else too. I'm not sure but Angela was giving him an earful. I sure hope you haven't been fooling around with her private parts."
"C'mon Tony," I said, putting a tone of incredulity into my voice. "You think I want to commit suicide. You know no one wants Johnny to win this more than I. Hell, I've been knocking my ass off for him. I'm not going to ruin it by screwing around with Angela. I hardly know her."
Tony smiled. "Okay, Mark, if you say so. But what about this Swenson broad. How we going to get her in a compromising position anyway?"
"I don't know, Tony, I'll think about it."
The throaty Mustang zipped along the highway. I kept an eye peeled on the rear view mirror for any State troopers. Tony helped me keep an eye out in front for any traps. I glanced at my watch. It was almost quarter of six already. My mind was in a frenzy trying to think of some way I could get into Alice Swenson's panties. At least long enough so Tony could get some shots. And who was the other broad in the house?
Full darkness had descended when we were about five miles from Glenmont and approaching fast. Too fast! The goddam cop on the motorcycle came out of nowhere. The hell with him. I pushed my foot to the floor. Tony nodded in approval. It was old stuff to him. I detected a trace of a smile on his lips.
"He's gaining, Tony." I cried.
"That's all right, let him. I'll fix him."
"What are you going to do?" I said. I didn't want to get in a jam with a traffic cop.
"Just hold it in this lane and let him pull up alongside. Roll down that window. I want a clean shot," Tony said without a trace of emotion.
"Are you crazy, for God sakes," I said. "You're not going to shoot him, are you?"
"What the hell do you think. This is the big league, Mark. We haven't got time to stop and play games with any flatfoot. Don't worry, he won't feel a thing."
I couldn't believe the conversation was really taking place. And Tony always had seemed like such a likeable guy. Of course, I was seeing him through my eyes. I knew he and Johnny had been in the rackets once. But that was supposed to be far behind them. And as for shooting, hell I had knocked off more than a few gooks myself in Korea, but that was another thing. This was murder.
"We'll do it my way, Mark," Tony said and I could tell he wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer. I shrugged my shoulders. What the hell? Dumb cop didn't know enough to mind his own business. His tough hick.
"Okay, Tony, I'm with you."
I slowed down so the trooper could catch us quicker. He came up fast, his engine thundering. I looked in the rear-view mirror. The road was clear of any other lights.
Now the trooper was beside us. We were doing about sixty miles an hour. He was young but a big beefy-looking guy. He waved us over to the side.
"Screw you cop," Tony said. The cop saw the forty-five automatic pointed at him just before Tony pulled the trigger. His mouth started to open in horror. The automatic roared in my ear and the top of the cop's head blew off in a blinding red spray. I couldn't hear a thing from the smashing noise in my ear. But I glanced over to see the trooper falling backward over his seat as the motorcycle shot across the road, hit the median strip, and catapulted into the air. Then there was nothing but the darkness of evening behind us.
Tony calmly blew down the barrel of the weapon and then slipped it into what apparently was a shoulder holster.
"How'd you like that for a shot, Mark? Been a long time too."
"I'll have to admit that it wasn't bad. You must have got him just above the fold between the eyes. The poor bastard. Did you see his face just before you fired?"
"Yeh," Tony said basking in the warmth of my admiration. "Not bad, Mark. Little practice and I'd be right back in form. Now just relax. And don't sweat. I've knocked off any number of highway cops. They never catch you. There's no real scene of the crime. And they'll never find the slug. It's probably a mile away by now. And we've got the empty cartridge so there goes any ballistic tests."
"Real smooth, Tony," I said. It was a good shot. What the hell. I was playing with tough guys, I suppose I had to expect them to act that way. Someday though I'd break away and live a real clean life. Right now this was the only way up.
Ten minutes later we wheeled up to the Swenson place. It was a big red brick Tudor style mansion. It sat back about a hundred yards from the road. There was a tall iron spiked fence completely surrounding it. Only a few lights showed from the many windows facing the street.
Tony hopped out and said he'd sneak in after me. I drove up to the front of the house, parked the car and got out.
I no sooner pressed the door than I heard the sound of footsteps from within the house. They came closer. The knob turned slowly and the door opened. Framed in the opened doorway was a giant of a blonde woman. We both recognized each other at once.
"It's you," she said startled. "What the devil do you think you're doing? You told Mrs. Swenson that you were a newsman. Wait until I tell her who you really are."
"Mary, baby," I snarled, "you are going to keep your big mouth shut or I'll have it closed permanently."
We both stood there glaring at each other. Dressed once again in a maid's costume it was hard to visualize her as that same amazon who I had caught going at it with Angela. The two dykes. And here she was again.
"What the hell are you up to yourself, Mary? One minute you're working for the Cataldos and now here you are at the Swensons. What's going on anyway?"
"Never mind what I'm up to. I haven't forgotten how you screwed me you dirty man. I'll fix you for that if it is the last thing I do."
"Can it, you phony," I spat out. "You loved it and you know it. Is Mrs. Swenson another one of you Lesbian bitches? You must be the local queen the way you travel around."
"You'll never know," Mary growled and started to slam the door.
She waited too long. I heard Tony coming up fast to help. I hit the door with all of my strength. The door swung back viciously. It drove flat into Mary's face. Her nose burst, spewing blood all over the front hall.
Mary staggered backward. Her eyes were filled with horror and pain. She opened her mouth to scream. Followed closely by Tony I hurtled across the rug and drove my fist right into her solar plexus under those massive breasts bobbing about behind the black and white blouse.
Mary dropped to the floor. I heard Tony closing the door behind me. The blonde giantess still was full of fight despite her smashed beak. Flat on her back she began to rise. I knelt down and slapped her in the face. Again her mouth opened to scream. I straddled her and clobbered her face with my closed fists.
I felt Tony at my shoulder. "Hear, Mark. I'll fix this smart broad. The ice pick-shaped knife flashed in the light just for a split second before it shot up to the hilt into her chest. Mary's great blue eyes opened to their greatest limit. A look of disbelief was reflected from their bulging depth. A glazed film dropped over them. Her huge body shuddered and then lay motionless.
"Don't worry, Mark," she won't bleed at all. "I get 'em right in the heart fast. Knock the heart out and there's nothing to pump the blood to the surface and make a mess of things."
About ten different thoughts were trying to come to the front of my mind at once. What the hell was I getting into? Two murders in less than what fifteen minutes? And where was Mrs. Swenson? Didn't she hear the bell? What about the commotion after that? Man, if I got out of that one I'd be a lucky S.O.B.
"Now what, Mark?" Tony asked.
"Where the hell is Mrs. Swenson? Check downstairs. I'll take the upstairs," I ordered. Anything to keep busy and give myself a chance to get in order.
I was already up on the staircase when the door which Tony was approaching opened. I ducked down behind the railing. Tony was caught flatfooted by the tall, statuesque woman with the thirty-eight revolver pointing right at his belly.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? What have you done to my beloved Mary?" she asked. Her voice was a little falsetto but still surprisingly calm. "Get those hands up, you pig," she barked when Tony made a motion for his own automatic.
She waved Tony back with the point of the revolver. He stepped back so that Mary's body laid between the both of them. I clung close to the carpeting on the stairs. Fortunately the light was poor on the stairs and I guess it never occurred to her that Tony had a buddy with him.
"Is she dead, you pig?" Mrs. Swenson asked. Her voice was harsher now and more demanding. She felt surer of herself.
She was nearly opposite me now and I got a good look at her. She had long red hair and blue eyes with a glint of green in them. Her body was covered by what seemed to be a flannel housecoat, but it could not conceal the swollen ripeness of her strong body. Her breasts were large and obviously firm despite her age. There wasn't a trace of flab on her from what I could see. I visualized that her legs were long and rounded.
"Is she dead?" Mrs. Swenson cried, a bit of panic now in her voice. She was afraid her worse dreams were going to be realized.
I had to admire Tony. He was so damn cool. His eyes never left the muzzle of Mrs. Swenson's revolver. He stepped back and off to one side. I figured he wanted Mrs. Swenson to turn just a hair to give me a chance to jump her from my vantage perch on the stairs.
"Yeh, she's dead, doll. And you're going to be dead in a few minutes too if you don't stop playing with that pea shooter. C'mon give it to me."
It was a good bluff but Mrs. Swenson wasn't buying it. She leveled the muzzle on Tony and I knew she was determined to shoot. I had to get going.
I was over the railing in one circular motion. Even as my feet plowed into her back, Tony was darting off to one side. But the impact was enough to send Mrs. Swenson sprawling and the gun flying across the room.
Tony picked up the revolver and slipped it into his pocket. "Remind me to get rid of that later, Mark." Mrs. Swenson spun around on the floor. She looked up at us. Now she was really scared. If I knew Tony, she should be.
"All right you old bag, get up on your feet," Tony said. "And make it fast. We haven't got much time."
She started to rise. "Move! Damn it," Tony snarled. "Get up!" Mrs. Swenson stood. Scared as she was, she still had a lot of class. Her eyes just glared at Tony. I'm sure she was regretting now that she didn't fill him with lead when she had the chance.
"Okay, Mark this is my show now. We don't have any time. Get those clothes off that maid. And you Mrs. Swenson, you undress pronto. If you don't, we'll be taking them off your corpse. It's your choice."
I went over to Mary and started to undo the buttons. Tony tossed me his knife. Cut 'em off, Mark. We haven't got time."
I picked up the knife, stuck the blade under the collar of the uniform and slit it right down to the skirt. I cut through a small leather belt and then slit the skirt too. I reached down and pulled the blouse and skirt off. I rolled Mary over to pull the uniform free. She sprawled obscenely in death before us. Her glazed eyes were fixed on the ceiling. I cut the bra straps and slit it down between the cups. I cut the panties across the crotch and then up the middle. Two tugs on the bra and panties and Mary laid exposed to us in all her stiffening glory.
"She must have been a ride." Tony said in admiration. "Look at the size of those tits. And she was a real blonde too. Would I liked to have made that."
He turned back to Mrs. Swenson again. "Now look lady, I'm going to give you exactly three seconds to start peeling those duds or you're going to be stretched out dead with your queer friend. Now what's it going to be?"
"Pig!" Mrs. Swenson spat. But I noticed that her trembling fingers quickly began unbuttoning the front of her floor length dress. About half way down, the buttons stopped. She had to reach down and grasp the hem and pull the dress over her head.
Tony and I both looked at each other knowingly. Not bad at all. Desire sprung up in my loins. The tops of her huge melons popped over the top of her white transparent bra. White panties of a similar material clung around her round full hips and hugged the taut cheeks of her buttocks. Strong thighs tapered gracefully away to dimpled knees and muscled calves.
"Off with it," Tony barked. "All of it."
"You pig," Mrs. Swenson replied. Afraid and angry, she unhooked her bra and slipped it off. My breath jumped in my throat as her pendulous brown nosed bubbies plopped into view. Tony's eyes gaped open. Full of lust, we both watched as she wriggled out of those clinging panties. She disdainfully tossed them at Tony. He laughed and caught them. He smelled them. "My favorite odor."
Mrs. Swenson tried ineffectually to cover up her pendulous breasts. They hung down slightly but were still big and round and full of life. She gave it up as a bad job and held both hands over her big mystery.
Tony and I both exchanged knowing glances. Yet there wasn't much time. We have to get our pictures and get back to the convention. Our lust must have been obvious to Mrs. Swenson if she was using her eyes.
"What do you think, Mark?" Tony asked.
"Sure why not. A quick one won't hurt anyone," I responded thinking with my desire instead of my brains.
Mrs. Swenson started to get the picture. Her eyes opened wide. "Scream, lady, and you're dead," Tony barked. "Okay, Mark, I'm a sport. You go first."
"Thanks Tony," I said and advanced on Mrs. Swenson. She backed off but I was hot after her. She went hard up against the wall and I chopped her lightly on the chin. She groaned and settled to the floor. She was no more down than I mounted her in a great heat of passion and rode off like my life depended on it. She kept calling me a pig but I noticed after only about half a minute that she was riding with me.
"Who's the pig now?" I asked gloatingly.
"Beautiful. Beautiful," she sighed. "I forgot how good it was. My husband's been impotent for years and I had to take up with Mary," she gasped throwing her long legs around me.
Then I got a surprise. Tony apparently became so heated up watching us that he couldn't wait.
Tony and I must have hit it together because he was buttoning up as I got to my feet. Mrs. Swenson remained flat on her back. She still was moaning in ecstasy and saying how wonderful it had been.
"Okay, sister, let's go," Tony snapped. "The fun is over. Get over there on top of Mary. Fast!"
I was really seeing a new Tony Boffo. He was really a man of action. His mind was razor sharp and clicking all the time.
"What do you want to do?" Mrs. Swenson said perplexedly. "I don't understand."
"We want you to get on top of Mary. Make believe you're loving her up. C'mon, snap it up. She's still warm. Make believe you and she were making it like old times."
Mrs. Swenson crawled across the floor. I leaned over and wiped off the small bit of blood from her chest.
Tony was up at Mary's head. He knelt down and took a shot as Mrs. Swenson looked up. "That's good, baby. We'll see how it looks in a minute."
For the next seven minutes, Tony took one picture after another of Mrs. Swenson caressing Mary's body. A minute after each was taken he pulled out the film and peeled off the protective cover. He and I laughed like hell as each one came into view. The scenes were terrific and the color was exceptional.
"Okay, Mrs. Swenson, that'll do the trick," Tony said, waving her off the body. "C'mon, c'mon. Look at her, Mark. She's beginning to enjoy it." He lifted his foot and put it against her chest. He pushed hard and she flipped over on her back. "I said leave off, queer!"
Tony looked over at me. "Now what about her?" he asked, indicating Mrs. Swenson. "Shall we finish her off too?"
"No! Please!" Mrs. Swenson cried. "Don't kill me, please!" She crawled into a corner and cowered there. Her eyes gaped wide when Tony slipped his stiletto out of its sheath and tested the point with a finger.
"No, I don't think so, Tony," I said trying to come up with a plan that would keep Mrs. Swenson alive without endangering ourselves. "We've got the pictures. She turns us in and we distribute the pictures."
"Yes, that's right!" Mrs. Swenson cried. "I promise I won't tell. I didn't care anything about this blonde bitch. She was blackmailing me just like she was blackmailing Angela Cataldo. I couldn't help myself. I needed relief like everyone else."
"Okay, lady," Tony said. "I'll spell it out for you. We've got the pictures. Open your mouth and our lawyers will spread them around. Also Mark and I will have air-tight alibis. You'll look like a complete ass. Keep your mouth shut and no one will ever know. We'll take care of this stiff."
"All right, all right, I promise. Not a word," Mrs. Swenson agreed, shaking with fear and relief.
A few minutes later Tony and I were up forward in the Mustang and headed back toward the city. Wrapped comfortably in a heavy woolen blanket, the body of Mary was stuffed in the trunk.
"When we get back to the city, Mark, I'll drop you off and take the wheel. You take the pictures and give them to Johnny. He'll make sure all the prints are removed and that a complete stranger pops the pictures off to Swenson. We'll give him about two to get the idea and keep the rest. I'll dump this broad's body where it will never be found."
Nodding in agreement, I shot down the highway but was careful to stay within the speed limit. We had no time for any more dumb cops. To be on the safe side we took an alternative route in case the body of the trooper had been found and any roadblocks were up.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I SWEPT BACK INTO THE STATLER-MASON THROUGH the big revolving door and found myself immediately in a bedlam of activity. The lobby was packed with people. It seemed like everyone who was anybody was milling around and trying to get to the floor of the convention hall or up to the galleries. My forward motion was painfully slow, as I was constantly being greeted by one politico after another.
I heard a female voice calling to me and turned to find Lita. "Hi there, Mrs. Ward," I said, careful to treat her formally. "How's it going?"
"Fine, Mr. Vista," she responded in her most aristocratic tones. In a lower voice, which could not possibly be heard over the hubbub and milling about of the throng, she asked, "How did it go?"
I smiled. "Not too sure. Only time will tell now. And there obviously isn't much of that left. Maybe we can get together for a drink later."
"Daiquiris, Markie baby?" Lita said, a tempting smile on her full red lips.
"Could be," I said. "They never taste better than when I drink them from you." Lita giggled and then became serious as she remembered the crowd rubbing against us.
We split up at the back of the lobby. I headed for the elevators while she went out on to the floor. I figured she would be trying to entice away some of our delegates right up to the voting. That was all right. We had our people doing the same thing.
The corridor was crowded when I stepped off at Cataldo's floor. The bastards really come around in the eleventh hour when they figure a guy's a winner. They all want to be seen and to try to give you the impression that they've been with you right from the beginning of the campaign. When they figure a guy's a shoo-in they come buzzing around and practically force you to take their dough. We take it all right, but we don't forget either when they finally kicked into the kitty. If you win, those later climbers-on get nothing. You take care of the people who were with you from the start. Who sweated out the campaign and kicked in with their money when nobody knew how it was all going to come out.
I made my way along the hall, greeting all the phonies who thought they were making points with the next Governor's press secretary. I made mental notes of who they were. My shit list was growing longer all the time. But it's all part of the game: the handshaking and the phony talk.
I finally managed to squeeze my way into Cataldo's suite. A top aide quickly beckoned to me and admitted me into the inner sanctum where Johnny was closeted.
"Mark, where are they? How did you do? You got 'em? Let's have 'em." Cataldo was squatted like a huge Buddha on a double bed. He reached for the photographs.
I handed them over and tried not to think that the cost for them had included two lives. I would shut those thoughts out of mind. Later there would be time to think about them.
Cataldo quickly riffled through the set of photographs. "Very, very good. Old Swenson will drop his pants when we show him a couple of these. I wouldn't mind jumping in the sack with either one of these broads. The big blonde looks the most interesting. I'll have to have Tony set it up for me."
I didn't see any sense of informing him that Mary was dead and probably even now getting a cement overcoat for an eternal swim in one of our nearby lakes or rivers. Tony could fill him in later.
"Okay, okay, Mark. I'll see that Swenson get's a couple of these as quickly as possible. With a note telling him how he and his buddy should vote. Hell come around."
"Right, Johnny," I said. I sensed something was wrong though. Cataldo was never the most affable guy in the world. But he was especially aloof now in his tone and mannerism. I couldn't help wondering if Angela had been stupid enough to shoot her mouth off. It seemed incredible that she would. And why did he say he would have Tony set it up with Mary? Why hadn't he suggested that I set it up? Something was wrong. I decided to play it like I knew from nothing which was about the truth. Hold on and cool it until I got a better clue as to just what was up with the wop bastard.
"Right, Johnny. Now where do you want to be during the voting?" I asked trying to sound as innocent as possible.
Johnny seemed to hesitate. "Check with Phil and see how we are with the newsmen. After that check around. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Get back to me fast if you hear anything, especially if Ward makes a big move to grab off any of our delegates."
He glanced at his watch. "We better all get moving. The voting will be starting in less than half an hour."
I got up to leave. Johnny called after me, "Mark, stay in touch. I want to know where you are fast."
I nodded, more puzzled than ever. Something definitely was wrong. Johnny always permitted me a wide latitude of freedom. He knew I took care of my end and that wherever I was, it was doing him some good. A slight shiver of fear coursed through my body. I shook it off. Screw him, I hadn't come this far to get scared off. I'd look up Ima. She'd know what the hell was going on.
The floor of the convention was a mad house, thundering with the voices of partisan supporters of the various candidates. The chairman was calling again and again for order. "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats," he kept calling. "Order! Delegates please take your seats." He called for the sergeant-at-arms to clear the floor and herd the delegates into their seats for the start of the voting.
I found Phil at our press booth to the left front of the hall. It was manned by about six of the prettiest girls in the state, aptly clad in Cataldo's colorful uniforms.
I looked them all up and down as I approached. Each one of them had been handpicked by me. I already had scored with three of them and had three to go. Each of them gave me a big wave and a hello. Smart broads. They knew on what side their bread was buttered. It was going to be fun being press secretary. I figured I could find room for each one of those broads somewhere on the staff. Lunches were going to be fun in my back corner office with the door locked. One for each day of the week and one left over for leisurely weekend munching.
"How's it going, Phil," I asked over the din inside the monstrous hall. My voice was real friendly like. I decided it would be politically astute at that point to play it buddy-buddy with Phil. Maybe he could give me a hint of what was going on.
But it was obvious from his report that he knew nothing. He still had the chip on his shoulder but simultaneously showed the proper deference to my position. If Cataldo was planning to shaft me, it was quite obvious that Phil was not to be my successor. I politely thanked Phil for his report. His eyebrows rose even further when I complimented him on its completeness and details.
I strolled slowly away. I wanted to look as cool as possible in case Cataldo had a shadow on me. I repeatedly stopped to chat with delegates as I made my way off the floor. Several newsmen yelled greetings and I even got a glimpse of Sarah Whynot up in the TV and radio gallery. My eyes bulged. She had taken off her jacket because of the heat and was holding back those tremendous cones T remembered so well with a tight T-shirt. Barooom! My friend smelled her and started to come to life. I had to push those lustful thoughts of her out of my mind or I'd have trouble walking out of the hall. I noticed that if she saw me, she didn't let on. Real cool broad that one. I'd fix her wagon later.
Out in the hallway, I hopped on to an elevator. No one followed. I rode up and down for a while to throw off any one just the same. Sure I was in the clear I finally got off at the ninth floor and walked to Ima's suite, 963. I knocked softly. Nothing. Again, a little harder.
I cursed. Where the hell could she be. Then I heard a voice call Ima's voice to come in. Instantly, I opened the door and shut it behind me. For good measure, I slid the bolt home. Un-like my last visit, the suite was well lighted.
"Ima, it's Mark, Mark Vista. Where are you?"
"Hi, Mark, I thought it would be you. Have a drink and I'll be right out," she called.
I went to the bar and poured myself a stiff J & B Rare on the rocks. I needed it and swiftly poured it down. I poured another and gave it a good squirt of soda. That one I'd drink more leisurely.
"Mark, how good to see," Ima called, sweeping into the living room like a duchess making a grand entrance at the royal castle.
"Wow! Ima that's quite an outfit. Right in style too."
"like it," she said obviously pleased. She twirled around to give me a good look.
It was really a simple ensemble. Unlined white organdy pant-suit clung to her firm round hips and dropped to about four inches above the knees of her tanned thighs. The pants flared so that they resembled a skirt. The pant-suit was of the most transparent organdy available. It was quite easy to see that she wore the briefest bikini possible under the unlined outfit.
"Sexy, Ima, sexy as hell." She was, too. I remembered all the hundreds of times Ima had made the scene. What a broad! And in that outfit, I had to fight to hold down my lust. Her bubbies stuck way out in front. They were swept up and the nipples were clearly discernible through the dress. The bottom of the bikini was just a passing gesture toward modesty.
"Now, now, Markie. Business before pleasure. We'll make it eight-hundred and four shortly. Maybe as a victory celebration. I assume that everything is all set for Cataldo?"
"That's right, Ima. It took some doing but we should have the needed votes right on the head. We can watch it on TV. The voting must be ready to start, if it hasn't already."
I flipped the set on while Ima poured herself a drink. It would have been a perfect evening if it hadn't been for that gnawing doubt about Cataldo. The bastard really had me on edge. If only I could be sure that he wasn't up to anything.
I got the picture good and clear and turned up the sound. "Ima, the voting is already started." She came over to stand beside me. We both sipped our drinks while keeping our eyes fixed on the wide-screen set.
With more than six hundred delegates to poll I figured it would take at least an hour to finish. No sense in not being comfortable in the meantime. I finished the rest of my drink and put the glass down. I slipped an arm around Ima's small waist and pulled her to me. She came readily.
"This is going to take a little while, Ima. Let's get comfortable."
"I'm all for that, Mark, as long as you say it's all set," she responded warmly.
I looked around for a place to stretch out and only saw a sofa. It was done in cinnamon-finished maple and covered with off-white hop-sacking. Throw pillows in red, yellow and pink covered it.
Ima laughed behind me. "Here," she said, "I'll show you something." Ima reached down and pushed a button. There was the faint whirring of a small motor and in the next second the sofa came to life to be transformed into a full sized bed. My eyes almost popped at the quick change.
"like it, Mark?" Ima said smiling at my amazement. She patted the bedspread and beckoned me to stretch out. I kicked off my shoes and loosened my tie. Piling up some pillows for the two of us, I sprawled out on the bed to watch the television screen.
Ima strode around the room flicking out the lamps. Soon the room was dark except for the light from the television screen. Ima walked in front of the screen and stopped, blocking my view. I couldn't have cared less as I could hear the voting anyway. Besides I had something else on my mind by then. Even as I watched transfixed, Ima unbuttoned the front of her suit, slipped it off her shoulder and let it fall in a pile at her feet. With a big smile on her face, she stepped out of the suit and walked toward me.
"Don't you like me better this way?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I mean what was there to say? As it was, I had all I could do to stay fast on the bed and not jump her.
Ima started humming a waltz aloud and twirling slowly around in front of the screen. The bikini formed two black strips across the fullness of her tip-tilted breasts and the round expanse of her hips. Impervious to my scrutiny, she twirled ever so slowly on the toes of her high heels. Her legs and arms gleamed in the gentle light. It was as though she were riding on her own little merry-go-round. I thought how I would like to give her a ride on my merry-go-round. I fully intended to very shortly.
The voice on the screen told us that Cataldo and Ward were neck and neck through the E's. Then the poll came to the F's. C'mon, Sally, I urged silently. Don't let me down. Sally came through like a trouper when they called out "Mrs. Fitzpatrick." She responded with the announcement that her four votes were for Cataldo. Pandemonium broke loose within the convention hall. For a couple of minutes the voice of the announcer was drowned out by the thunderous shouting and horn blowing.
Ima, sure now of the outcome, twirled faster and faster to her mind's music. Her bubbies stood up straight in profile as she whirled crazily about.
"Hey, doll, you better slow down or you're going to get dizzy as hell," I cautioned.
"Relax, Markie," she called. But she did stop and walk over to the bed. She climbed up on the bottom and stood up on the bed with her high heels still on. Man, what beautiful legs. They rose to the two solid columns of her muscled thighs. Flat out on my back, she resembled a giantess measuring some ten feet in height. I heard her take a deep breath and throw out her chest. The skin stretched tightly over her rib cage. Each rib was distinctly visible in the dim light. Her breasts were two fabulous melons waiting to be plucked. The bra, hardly more than a narrow bit of cloth, threatened to burst from the tension she was putting on it. First one and then the other nipple popped into view from behind the bra. Ima laughed and breathed deeper. The single button holding the bra together at her back, popped and went spinning off to be lost in the shadows. Ima and I joined in laughter. She raised her arms and the tiny piece of cloth fell away to the floor revealing the round fullness and ripe beauty of those love cones to my gaping eyes.
"Beautiful, Ima. Just beautiful," I said shakily. Man, what a build she had. My mouth watered to taste those fruity globes. I had to loosen another button on my shirt and adjust my slacks to be more comfortable.
The counting had resumed on television and Senator Tom Ward once again was catching up to Cataldo. The four-vote lead fell away to three and then two. I panicked a bit when the lead was whittled to one vote in Cataldo's favor, Of course this was what we had expected. Swenson, if everything had gone right, would give us the lead Ward wouldn't be able to overtake.
Ima now was gyrating about on the bed. She bent over from the waist and revolved her body about. While I stared wide-eyed, she slowly bent over backward until her head disappeared and only those two tremendous bubbies pointed straight up toward the ceiling. From down behind her back, she reached up to undo the single button holding the bikini bottoms snug to her hips. Freed the bottom reluctantly gave up its loving hold round that love bush.
Carefully keeping her balance, Ima bent back further. She shifted her legs further apart and crooked them at the knee. With her head nearly trailing on the edge of the bed behind her, her fantastic body was revealed to me fully. The breasts pointed to the ceiling. Her female mysteries no longer were hidden from view but laid yawning in front of me. I knew what to do. I swung around on the bed. Clasping my hands to Ima's quivering thighs, my head went forward so my tongue could begin tasting of those heavenly delights.
Ima ooed and ahhed as my tongue slipped home and began its frantic exploring. "Wonderful Mark," she cried. She bent backward a little further so she could clasp her own ankles with both hands.
With my tongue still in her, Ima slowly fell forward. As her knees and then her soft round belly came down, I had to pull away. While she was completing her gentle forward motion, I jumped up off the bed. In a minute I too was bereft of my clothing and back on the bed with Ima. She was stretched out in all her glory and sensuality. I laid beside her, pulling her to me by her buttocks. She spread her legs for my pulsing masculinity and I slowly inserted it. She groaned in contentment.
"He's so big, Mark. like a big red-hot poker. No one is built like you. You're half man and half bull.
And thanks be that the bottom half is all bull."
"He's big for you, Ima," I confided. "Only for you. No one else can bring him to his full power like you. He loves to show off for you."
"Beautiful, Mark. It feels so good. Keep it coming."
Only too happy to comply with her wish, I slowly rolled her over. She opened wider so I could thrust deeper. Then she brought her long legs up and clapped them tightly around my neck. Her long arms reached down so she could grab me by the buttocks. My hands reached eagerly under her solid cheeks and pulled her to me. I could just as easily die in that position. What else is left when you've had it with the best around? It's all so anti-climatic and repetitious. People tell you that they are all so afraid of dying. I could just as easily depart this planet any time after I finish popping with Ima.
Ima and I went at it in slow motion, locked lovingly together. It was the eight-hundred and fourth time. How's that for a score? When I went down, she pulled it in and tightened up. When I pulled away, she rose up to follow. About every tenth stroke, I'd pull out completely and hold it back about four inches. When she couldn't wait any longer, I'd ram it back in without ever missing those waiting lips.
Above our heavy breathing, I kept one ear cocked to the announcer's voice. "It's coming up to the S's, Ima," I said. She agreed with me to hold off for a moment so we could hear Swenson distinctly. He was polled right after Sam Sugarmen. "Representative Swenson." Cataldo and Ward were neck and neck. I crossed my fingers. Had Cataldo's man got to him with the pictures? Did he understand the message? Could he be kept in line?" There was silence for about twenty seconds. Then a voice that I recognized as Representative Swenson's.
"Mr. Chairman," he called out from the microphone on the floor, "Mr. Chairman, both I and my fellow delegate cast two votes in favor of Mr. Cataldo."
I had to jump quickly out of bed to cut the booming noise from the set. That was it! We were home. Visions of myself as press secretary came to mind.
"We made it, Ima! We made it!" I shouted. "Yahoo!" I was excited as a big kid getting his first piece. "Man, am I going to live. And let's start right now."
Ima jubilantly spread herself for me. I straddled her and shot my bolt home. It whipped forward and hit that familiar clasp with a wet thud. Off we dashed together, hooting and hollering to beat the band. In about one minute flat, we grasped each other with all our strength and soared into orbit in tandem. My jet juices spurted into her engine with great heat and force. She rolled about but stayed tightly to me so as not to miss any.
Exhausted, we broke away. Both of us laid panting on our backs, staring up at the ceiling. The light flickered along its white surface from the TV set.
"What a night, Ima. I can't remember being so excited since that time you and I first rode to the races together about sixteen years ago. Remember?"
Ima laughed in delight and remembrance. "I'll never forget, Mark, as long as I live. You'll always be my man no matter where our paths may take us. This may sound selfish, but I almost wished your man had lost. Then maybe we could have gone off somewhere together."
I kissed her on the cheek. The eternal female. I could easily love her if it wasn't for my ambition. Then I remembered Johnny would want to check over his acceptance speech and I should be there.
"I've got to make a call, Ima." I bounded out of the bed and dialed Cataldo's private number reserved only for about three of us. I knew it would be ridiculous trying to get him on any of the regular lines. Everybody and his brother would be calling to congratulate him and to say they had been with him from the beginning.
The phone only rang once when it was picked up. I recognized the voice immediately. "Tony, Mark. Great isn't it. Really great!"
"It sure is, Mark," he replied but without much enthusiasm. Again the feeling that something was wrong swept over me.
"Is Johnny there?" I asked.
"Hold on," Tony said. I could tell he had placed his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. I could hear muffled voices. "Mark, Johnny says to get over here right away. He's only got a couple of minutes before he makes his acceptance speech."
"I'm on my way, Tony. See you."
I explained to Ima. She nodded and promised to stay put until I checked back with her. Both of us wanted to make a night of it but she understood that I would be busy for a while. As I was leaving I heard her giving a Washington telephone number to the operator.
I dashed through the hall to Johnny's suite. A number of people slapped me on the back and yelled their best wishes to me. I just smiled and kept on moving. When I got to the suite, I wended my way through the crowd of well-wishers and Tony quickly slipped me in to see Cataldo.
"Johnny, great victory. Wonderful," I cried, playing it by the numbers until I could see what was up.
Johnny didn't waste any time. He never did.
"Okay, okay, Mark, knock off the crap. I'm on to you wise guy. Angela told me all about what you did to her maid. And she said you also tried to make her too. I ought to bust you in half."
I saw my opening. Angela had only told him half the story. "Wait a minute yourself, Johnny," I said letting anger show in my voice. "Since when do you care if I knock off a lousy maid? Why is Angela so sore about that?"
"I don't give a damn about the maid," he snarled in reply. "It's the fact that you tried to put the make on Angela. I still think I ought to break you into little pieces."
I turned to Angela who was sitting cross-legged in a corner of the room. She had a smug smile on her lips.
"Angela, what the hell are you trying to prove. I worked my ass off for Johnny, why don't you tell him the truth?"
"I told him all that there is to tell," she said disinterestedly. "What else is there?"
"You're gambling Angela," I said.
Johnny interrupted, "What do you mean gambling?"
I figured the hell with it, I had nothing to lose.
"Okay, Johnny since we are all leveling with each other. She's a Lesbian, and you and I both know it. So why the hell would I go near her?"
I could see from Cataldo's expression that I had scored a hit on a real sore point. "Okay, okay," he said, trying to collect his thoughts. "So you know, huh. Well it doesn't make any difference. You're a smart guy. Too smart for me. I don't want you around any more."
"That's right, Mark, we don't want you around any more. We've already decided on someone else to be press secretary. Someone of my own choosing," Angela gushed, sticking in the knife.
By then I had a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. When I thought of how hard and long I had worked to bring Cataldo victory, and now it was all going down the drain because of that dyke. Why is it all the bastards get ahead in this world? And the rest of us get the short end of the stick?
"Johnny, you can't be serious. You can't dump me now. I practically made you. I sweated my back off for you. There's no one around who can do the same job."
"Oh, yes, there is, smart guy," Angela said. "We've got a news secretary with class. You look sick in comparison."
"All right," I said wearily, "Who is it?"
"Sarah Whynot," Angela smirked. "Now what do you think of that?"
I turned to Cataldo, "Johnny, you can't be serious. Don't you see what Angela is doing. We both know she's a Lesbian. She's setting up Sarah Whynot as your news secretary so she can try and seduce her. It's as plain as the nose on your face."
"Why you son of a bitch!" Angela screamed. "Johnny, throw him out. Toss the ass out!"
"Out, junior," Cataldo ordered. "You're through right now. And make it fast, I've got an acceptance speech to deliver and can't take any more time with the-likes of you."
"With the-likes of me?" I said. I had to laugh. That S.O.B. I had more class in my little finger than he had in his entire fat torso. "Good luck to you, Cataldo," I spat. "You stink. You're nothing without me and you never will be."
"Get out!" Cataldo roared. "Out!"
Cataldo looked as if he was going to have apoplexy so I shrugged my shoulder and strode out. Back out in the corridor, my mind whirled about with a hundred ways I could get even with him.
I returned to Ima's suite. She was aghast when I had informed her of the conversation with Cataldo.
"The pig," she said. "I'm so sorry for you, Mark. I thought this was going to be a happy occasion for you. The bellboy is bringing up two bottles of champagne."
"Ah, Ima, I'm already reconciling myself to it. The champagne sounds great. Funny isn't it? When he was telling me I was through, I thought it was the end of the world. That was only a few minutes ago. And now already. I am adjusting to the situation. I guess I've just been in this cruddy business too long to let anything really upset me any more."
Ima already had a drink in my hand. "Here's to us, Mark," she said, her voice sultry and inviting. "I'll make it up to you. Forget that pig. I'll never know why Washington wants that type in power. They're a disgrace, especially when you think of all the high-class guys around with brains and good looks."
I downed the drink in a couple of swallows. Ima went to get me a refill.
"It's just my pride now," I said. "To think that fat slob beat me out of that job after I fractured my hump for him. That's what's really killing me."
There was a knock at the door. Ima strode across the room to let in the bellhop. He pushed a serving tray carrying a big ice bucket containing two bottles of chilled Piper-Heidsick 1947. Nothing but the best for Ima.
"Take off your jacket and relax, Mark. Pour us some champagne. We'll come up with something to fix Mr. Cataldo."
I slipped off the jacket and tossed it onto a chair. I popped the champagne and poured two glasses. Ima, clad again in her pant-suit through which her bikini was clearly visible, took the glass.
"Well, Mark, here's to us. It always comes back to that, doesn't it? Good luck."
"Thanks, Ima. You're a jewel. A real comfort. A great girl. Salud."
We downed the champagne without stopping. I poured us both another glass. Ima slid over and I sat down beside her. Her lush round hip burned my thigh. My thoughts already were turning to more pleasant subjects.
"What are you thinking about, Mark?"
"About you, Ima," I said straightforwardly. "But I would like to decide about Cataldo first."
"Thank you for always being honest," Ima said. "Let's put our collective heads together and I'm sure we can fix him."
I sipped my champagne. My thoughts flashed back through the past six months. Man, how hard I had worked. But that was water over the dam. And as for tonight, I couldn't threaten him on the death of Mar" I would only implicate Tony and myself.
It was Ima who finally decided how we should settle with Cataldo. Cataldo knew his wife was a Lesbian and had adjusted to that fact. But he didn't know she also liked it the other way as proven by her actions with me. So we would show him how Angela could put out when she wanted to. It would kill him.
"But won't my face show?" I asked.
"No, we'll have it doctored up. We won't send him the entire film. Just some select slides we'll have made up extra big. He'll really enjoy viewing them at home. I figure he'll send Angela packing once he gets a look at them. And I'm sure Sarah Whynot will go out on her backside at the same time."
"That's all right," I said. "It'll be thirty for that smart broad. Maybe for him too. No governor with a divorce will get very far today."
"And we'll be in the free and clear by then. No one can get down on me. I did my job as far as Washington is concerned. Cataldo got the nomination. That's all I was supposed to assure," Ima noted.
We downed some more champagne. My head was getting a little dizzy and I thought how nice it was going to be to go again with Ima. She was a good kid.
"And I've got a big surprise for you too, Mark," she said. "I was holding back just in case Cataldo lost. But the offer is just as good this way. They want you to come to Washington as my assistant. I know you like to be top guy. But you will be, at night with me. How about it?"
"Hey, Washington, how about that," I said excited about my new prospect. "Yeh, sounds great, Ima. Time I shook this burg anyway. And like you said, you may be top dog during the day, but I'll be on top at night. Can't beat that combination can you?"
"You certainly can't," she said, pulling me to her cozy body.
