The soft noon sunlight played across the deep pile carpet in long, warm stripes. Bethie Rainie raised her soft, white arms in a sleepy stretch. The satin sheets fell from her high, round breasts. A glance at the clock verified the sun's message. Twelve o'clock. Well, she deserved to sleep late once in a while. There was nothing important to do today anyway. The sudden, harsh ring of the phone told her it might be otherwise. The last bit of sleep cleared itself from her mind. She was suddenly alert, business-like.
"Hello?" Bethie captured the receiver with her cheek while she lit a morning cigarette. "Bethie? Did I wake you?"
"No ... what's up?" Bethie felt the slight pull as her nostrils stretched, flaring, in momentary excitement. Duke never called unless something was up, something concerning ... money.
"Yes ... something pretty big. How soon could you get to my office?"
"Give me an hour. I'll be prompt."
"I know." Duke Conroy laughed.
Bethie let a smile creep across her face as she replaced the receiver. She kicked the covers from her legs and walked naked into her luxurious living room. It was going to be a good day. It had been a while. Two weeks, in fact, since she had finished her last assignment. She hated the in-between times! It was all right, until the money started to dwindle. Duke's voice had that anxious edge to it. It must indeed be a big ... case. She laughed at the word. She stood in front of her walk-in closet, taken for a moment by the naked image of herself in the full-length mirror.
"Twenty-four-years-old ... and I look like a blushing bride. Better, I look eighteen."
She spread her arms as if to enfold the luxurious apartment. For a moment the sweet looking face held something of a grim bitterness. That expression vanished as she caught her image in the mirror. She was careful not to let that kind of expression rule her face. If she did, soon tiny lines would begin forming around her mouth, under her eyes. That would never do. After all, she had paid for this apartment and everything in it with her carefully kept sweet looks. No, that would never do. It was funny. She had this apartment for almost two years and she could still feel a gloating kind of pride come over her whenever she was alone in it.
She opened the closet and picked out a tailor-fitted suit of pale blue, her mind still filled with ancient thoughts. Every time she touched any one of her beautiful possessions she recalled the rat traps she had spent her life in. It had never occurred to her in those days that she might be able to live like this. Her father's last act before releasing her to the hard world was to send her to a secretarial school. At the time it was just another annoyance, but now, well, she had learned quite young to turn anything to her advantage. But a secretary's salary certainly didn't put her in this luxury apartment.
It had been through her job as a secretary that she had met Duke Conroy. She took a quick shower and carefully dressed in the blue suit, adding a white ruffled blouse.
She glanced at her image one more time before she left the apartment. Good, she told herself. Her head was a mass of short blonde curls; the softly, feminine face, the little turned up nose, dominated by the biggest, sky blue eyes. The perfect image of innocence. She went downstairs and waited while the doorman got her a cab. She looked at her watch on the way downtown and smiled. She had ten more minutes. No wonder Duke had laughed. He knew her all right. She watched the hands move slowly. At two minutes to the hour the cab pulled up in front of the building that contained Conroy Detective Agency. She rode up to the fourteenth floor and walked into the small but expensive waiting room. She rang a small buzzer and Duke Conroy stepped from the inner office, a smile on his angular face. She walked into the office and nodded casually to the man seated there. She took careful note of the shocked look he tried to hide when he saw her. He hadn't expected a little girl. Duke Conroy walked in behind Bethie and stood flexing his hands. Bethie met the smile on his face. Now the job of convincing the man that she was not sweet sixteen would begin. It was nothing new. Many clients had balked at the idea of using her for their particular job ... at first.
"Bethie, I want you to meet Morgan Reed." Duke moved his thin frame aside and Bethie nodded to the handsome man with the green eyes.
He seemed very ill at ease, trying to keep control of his handsome features. She could tell by looking at him that he was not a man who gave way to embarrassment easily. Duke knew how to handle people though. He wasn't pushing anything. Instead, he was busy at his little bar, mixing drinks.
"Don't make a hasty first judgment, Mr. Reed." Duke's calm voice rilled the now silent room.
"I don't know if you understood my needs, Mr. Conroy." Morgan Reed's handsome, stern face studied Bethie's appearance carefully, trying to measure her.
"I think I did, Mr. Reed. Bethie usually makes this kind of impression on clients. But after a very short time they soon realize her assets. She's been with me for two years now, and has never failed at her job."
Duke passed out drinks and took his seat. He was ready for business now, Bethie told herself. She sat quietly, knowing in the end, if she just took it easy, Morgan Reed, too, would begin to understand her special talents.
"How old would you judge Miss Rainie to be, Mr. Reed?"
"She looks very young," Morgan Reed stated without hesitation.
Bethie met his eyes, keeping her face bland as she sipped her drink.
"She happens to be twenty-four. I may add, a well-earned twenty-four."
Morgan Reed cocked his head, his lips compressed. He smiled at Bethie and she returned the compliment.
"Miss Rainie, you're a very attractive young lady and lucky to look so young, but...." His face hardened as he finished the sentence. "The little task I have in mind would require a very sophisticated woman. I hope you don't take offense. I can't afford to take any chances."
Duke let a grin take over his face and Bethie nodded to herself. It was always this way, she thought.
"I did say a well-earned twenty-four, Mr. Reed. Bethie's appearance helps a lot to get her places a more obvious woman could never go."
Morgan lit a cigarette as he listened. Duke glanced at his watch, giving Bethie a side wink. She knew he was about to make his exit. The rest would be up to her.
"Listen, Mr. Reed, I do have another appointment. Why don't you and Bethie talk this over, perhaps lunch together? Perhaps after you get a little better acquainted with Miss Rainie you will change your mind."
"Perhaps." Morgan Reed's eyes turned from Duke to Bethie.
"Well, if you do decide she'll do, let me know ... say tomorrow. Then we can arrange my fee. Miss Rainie receives five thousand afterwards, but my payment is always made in front." Duke spread his hands. "Business," he added, by way of an explanation. Bethie wondered just how much Duke's fee was. Bethie finished her drink and offered to make more, but Morgan waved the offer aside casually with the sweep of his hand. He seemed used to commanding.
"Bethie, you have the extra key. Will you lock up?"
"Of course, Duke. I'll call you."
"Yes." Duke met Bethie's eyes, causing her to smile. It lay like an old joke between them. She watched his retreating back and turned to Morgan Reed. He was probably wondering how to get out of this, she thought, amused.
"Does Duke ... Mr. Conroy know of your ... task, Mr. Reed? I mean the details?"
Morgan Reed stood. He was tall, lean, the way she liked a man to be built. He walked to the window and looked down at the busy street traffic. Bethie tried to read his thoughts.
"Yes, he knows." He turned, leaning on the window sill, his hands in his pockets, facing her, a tiny frown wrinkling his forehead.
"I wouldn't worry. Duke doesn't tell me anything until I'm accepted. By that time the client has told me already. Mr. Conroy himself would never let any kind of information leak out."
"That is reassuring." He leaned forward with a burst of laughter. He was loosening up. That was good.
"Would you like to ask me any questions?" Bethie leaned back, lighting a cigarette, watching him take a seat again, fold his hands and begin to speak ... slowly, as if he was not yet sure he should even try her.
"Yes, I would. Do you know anything about being a secretary, Miss Rainie?"
Bingo, Bethie told herself. She kept her face clear, pursing her lips in a serious manner.
"Yes, I do, as a matter-of-fact. I graduated from a good secretarial school. I happen to be an excellent secretary."
"Really?" She watched his masculine face light with sudden interest. The spark was lit. She nodded now, smiling openly.
"I seem to have one important quality anyway," she laughed.
"Miss Rainie, I'm sure you have a lot of important qualities. It's just that I had this picture in my mind. Perhaps I've watched too many spy movies."
"I know what you mean. The dark, mysterious beauty. Seriously though, I might point out that my good girl looks do keep me free from suspicion when I work. Most people are like yourself. If they suspect anything at all, why they look for someone suspicious looking."
"That's true. I must admit that talking to you just a little bit more, I do begin to relax. You seem very...."
"Sure of myself?" Bethie asked, raising an eyebrow in humor. "How long do you think I would last at a detective agency if I were not? Listen." Bethie shook her blonde head, chasing a stray curl from her forehead. "Why don't we continue this discussion at my place? I'll fix you lunch, we can relax a little bit and ... then you'll decide. Okay?"
"Sounds fair enough, Miss Rainie."
"All right then. I live just a few minutes away by car."
Bethie crossed her fingers as she walked out the door ahead of Morgan. She fumbled in her purse, finding the key to Conroy. The latch clicked and she gave Morgan Reed an encouraging smile.
She stood beside him in silence in the elevator. She was handling this right ... slow and easy. Duke had taught her well. Never push a prospective client. Let them at least think they were making up their own minds. Besides, she was the best Morgan Reed could get for his money. She followed Morgan to the car, beginning to chat amiably about this and that small thing.
During the ride he turned to her, pursing his lips. She watched him, pretending not to be terribly interested, but like an animal smelling out a new place.
"Were you serious when you ... or was it Mr. Conroy who said it ... that you have never failed?"
"Duke said that. Yes, it is true. Oh I live right here. The big building." Bethie remained silent while he parked. The fish was nibbling at the bait now, she told herself. Nibbling, smelling and thinking he liked it. Morgan Reed walked around to her side and helped her out. Bethie knew this was the time and purposely let her skirt ride up, exposing a creamy expanse of thigh. She watched his eyes take in the sight with a small glint of desire. He was a handsome man, after all, she told herself. Why not? It was part of her job.
Bethie unlocked the door to her apartment and stood aside while Morgan entered. She closed the door, watching his face smile at the sight of all her expensive luxuries.
"I guess you do all right," he nodded to himself.
"I do at that." Bethie moved ahead of him through the rooms, taking off her jacket and tossing it carelessly across a chair top. She motioned towards the couch and he sat down amidst the pile of cushions. She loved cushions and pillows. They were scattered throughout her apartment. She went behind the little bar and stirred two martinis without asking. He watched her as she returned, placing a drink on the low coffee table in front of him. She knew he was looking at her large breasts pressing against the thin, ruffled blouse. She concealed a knowing smile. The neat little suits she wore on some of her assignments did make her look kind of flat chested, but for reasons. Innocence does not usually have big breasts.
"Do you mind ... before I make lunch...." Bethie rubbed her shoulder. "I hate to wear clothes in my house. I'd like to change into my house robe. I like to be comfortable, once I'm inside."
"Not at all."
Bethie stood, taking in the boyish grin. Would he mind! she laughed to herself. He would have to be a homosexual to mind. It might be blunt, but it always worked. She made her way into the bedroom, only taking a few minutes to change into the white satin robe. When she returned to the living room, the robe opened and closed around her legs.
"I can't stand to wear street clothes in the house." She took her seat next to him, aware that his eyes wandered far from business over her lush curves.
"Okay, let's talk a little and then, as promised, lunch. We can ease the tension a bit by getting on a first name basis. That is, if you don't mind."
"Not at all ... Bethie." Morgan gave her a mock toast with his glass. "By the way ... have you ever handled a miniature micro-film camera before?"
"Yes. You might say it's standard equipment. I am a detective, you know."
She watched his eyes move from her breasts to her eyes with a bit of a shock. "Really? Licensed?"
Bethie let the tinkle of laughter out in a stream, her head bent back against a black velvet cushion.
"Yes, of course. I couldn't work for Conroy otherwise." She sobered, meeting his electric green eyes. She did have a weakness for green eyes. "Everything above board you see. That is everything is supposed to be, but all detective agencies take advantage of their status. You don't make money being a good guy detective."
"Just like you didn't make money being a secretary."
Morgan grinned. Bethie felt his mouth briefly touch her own. She watched him withdraw, his eyes still fixed on hers.
"Would you like to come ... into my bedroom?"
"Of course." He moved backward and let Bethie up. Bethie turned, making sure he was following her. He was.
Bethie reached behind him and shut the bedroom door. Morgan was busy taking in the splendor of the lavish room. He was wondering, Bethie knew, just how much this room alone had cost her. He had a reason to wonder. There was a cream colored pile rug on the floor three inches deep, long gold drapes across one entire wall and windows. The bedspread alone had cost her two hundred dollars. She was smiling now, a tight smile. Morgan leaned against the closed bedroom door and watched her draw the drapes, his green eyes slitted. This was a test, she told herself. That was fine with her. Most of her jobs called for this particular touch of her talent. She took it for granted that this job, too, would require the same.
She slowly untied the robe, knowing that Morgan was watching her languid motions with a building need. She let the tie drop to the floor as the robe fell apart, exposing her full, white, pink-nippled globes. The robe slid into place again. Bethie walked closer to the bed, a little shrug causing the slithery robe to slip from her shoulders and fall into a shining pile at her feet. A short stifled gasp came from Morgan as his eyes followed the splendid curves of her body, her round creamy thighs, her small waist flaring into the round, silken buttocks.
"I really didn't expect such a womanly body ... with that face."
"The secret of my success." Bethie sat on the bed and pulled herself up towards the pillows, to lay provocatively on her side, her hip jutting up.
"You know every move you make, don't you?" Morgan asked.
"You begin to understand me." Bethie grinned, her eyes lowered.
Morgan unbuttoned his shirt and sat on the bed, untying his shoes. When he had removed his clothes he turned towards Bethie, taking her face in his large hands, his eyes serious now, penetrating her own large blue ones. She knew he was seeking some explanation of herself. She knew she aroused a curiosity in men. At least those men she actually let see the real Bethie. As far as she was concerned, the job was in the bag. At least it would be after....
"Come up on the bed ... here," she whispered. Morgan reached over and pressed the button on the decorative lamp. He could almost taste the darkness. His mind and loins were filled with a curiosity of this child-woman. No, he had been wrong. She was certainly not a child. It had taken him several hours to make sure of that and he was about to become even more positive of the fact.
"Kiss me, Morgan." Her husky, half-childish voice whispered through the darkness. Very little light got in through those heavy drapes, but his eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness. He could make out the dim oudine of her ample curves, stretched over the satin-covered bed. He moved further up, lifting his body over hers. She let out a sigh as his lips closed over her warm, giving mouth. Underneath his thighs, her hot flesh writhed in slow, tantalizing motion.
He wanted to contain himself, wait it out. He liked to wait until a woman couldn't stand it any longer, until they almost begged. She seemed to be a symbol of womanhood, so passive, so absolutely giving.
"Beautiful ... beautiful." He inhaled sharply, his hands taking the round, full globes of her breasts.
He bent down, taking one puckered nipple in his mouth, his tongue flickering over the flesh until it stood erect. She gave a soft moan and he repeated the performance on the other breast. His hands grasped the soft mounds harshly, eager to stir the desire in her. He smiled in the darkness. It seemed that she needed little stirring. She rolled a little, her legs moving apart underneath him. He ran his hands down the silken thighs, touching her belly fiercely with his hard fingers. His mouth sought her, his teeth nibbling.
He heard the little cry of pain and her arms reached down, pulling at his head. Morgan let his teeth sink deeper this time, hearing her answering cry. Morgan smiled through the darkness as he moved his legs tight over her own. Her legs moved further apart, her hips thrusting themselves upwards, trying to capture him. His passive woman was fast becoming a demanding one. Her arms snaked around his neck and pulled his head down, then traveled down his back where she held him tight against her.
"Now ... now Morgan ... let me have you." Her voice was ragged with desire as her hand eased from his back, seeking him. Her moist hand closed and moved subtly against his skin. This girl was no amateur! Love was her game. All the while she moved, she moved like a cat, her legs twisting with a rolling movement, her calves wrapping themselves around his.
"Look...." she whispered harshly.
Morgan lifted his head and saw that she had removed her hand from him and was touching herself, running her hands down her body. It excited him to see her touch herself like that. He could wait no longer. He had to have her. He heard an animal growl deep in his throat. Was that a smile coming through the darkness? That little bitch. She knew men all right! She brought her hand down softly and took him again, leading him to her secret self.
Now she moved like an enormous snake, making little sounds of pleasure in the darkness. She was so wet, so ready. Morgan gasped as he sank fully down, thrilled as Bethie sucked in her breath, her hands grasping her own breasts, fingering her nipples.
"Love me hard, Morgan. Love me hard!" Her voice was rising.
She had taken over. He wondered why he had ever thought her so passive. He pulled back almost all the way and lingered there, moving his body slowly, tantalizing the passionate Bethie. She was in agony! Her groaning filled the room. With one definite thrust she raised her hips. Her arms lifted, her hands reaching into his mass of hair, kneading him fiercely. He couldn't stand it. He let himself down again and withdrew sharply, determined to play his game.
Again she brought her hips up with a soft thud. He sank once more, his hands like separate animals exploring her body, twisting bits of flesh as they moved. He lifted her slightly and eased one hand behind her, grabbing a handful of her warm backside. Bethie was in a frenzy, her body twisting sharply from one side to another.
She knew all kinds of little tricks, he thought. She would have made a good prostitute, he thought wildly. He didn't want this to end. He hoped he could hold out, putting off the final release. He removed his hand from her buttocks, feeling the silky flesh slide past his fingers. With a definite movement he lifted her legs, pinning her knees underneath his hairy chest.
"No!" She tried to twist her legs out from under his. "It'll hurt!"
Morgan let her cries go unheard, holding her there. Without warning, he came down hard. A cry escaped her mouth and then she was silent. Again and again he plunged deep, uttering profanities like a madman. The little bitch! She liked it. She liked it hard. Suddenly he stopped, watching her eyes fly open in the darkness. He stayed there, not moving, until she began twisting her body, urging him on to finish. She was a cat in heat. He let her knees collapse against his chest weakly and waited for her move. Bethie didn't wait. She was too eager to be fulfilled.
Her legs wrapped around his neck, her buttocks raised invitingly. He felt her legs move on his shoulders, a tittle more apart, giving easier access. He took the opportunity, moving gently now, wanting to raise the excitement to a fever pitch. They were both straining now; there were no more games to be played. She took him easily, demanding more. She reminded him briefly of a nymphomaniac he had known. Together they moved as a unit. A soft series of moans filled his ears as Bethie's body jerked to a panting stop.
He was taken with her release and followed suit, unable to hold back any longer. His body shuddered again and again, then he pulled away and lay next to her in the darkness. His face was hot and flushed.
"I never did make lunch," she laughed.
"I forgot." His laugh mingled with hers. "You were great."
"I know." Her hands fumbled for the lamp and he held his hand over his eyes. "I need a cigarette," she explained. "Want one?"
"Yes, I could use a cigarette."
She lit two and handed him one. She took a deep draw and blew the smoke out lazily. "You know, I'm glad we made love. Not just because you were good. I expected you to be good, just by the way you look."
"Then why?" Morgan lay prone amidst a hurricane of pillows.
"Oh, because if I'm going to work for you I think it's best to know you, and the best way to know a man is to sleep with him."
She smiled. Morgan thought that was a hell of a line of reasoning and he told her. Bethie laughed.
"You can tell a lot. You find out if they're aggressive, passive, foolish, if they can be dominated." She smiled. "Don't worry. You are quite a man."
"You're a strange combination. You wouldn't think to look at you that underneath that face of sweetness is a cunning snake. Bethie?"
She turned towards the question, her mouth open and wet. He couldn't help staring at her. She demanded constant attention. She pulled her round, finely curved legs under her, her face still waiting for him to speak.
"I heard Duke call you sweet Bethie...."
Her laughter was as unexpected as rain. Once she had started to laugh it was a continuous thing. He wanted to slap her. She stopped suddenly, wiping her huge blue eyes with the back of her hand.
"It's like calling a fat man Slim. You know?"
Her eyes opened and closed once. It was the blink of a cat. Her small, delicate hands reached towards the night table and placed her cigarette in the ashtray. She met his eyes frankly.
"Would you really like to know more about me? I think
I'd like to tell you. I like to talk about myself ... and I don't get too much of a chance."
He smiled, nodding to her. She did have a compelling honesty about her. At least for these few moments she did. He urged her on. He was filled with a terrible curiosity about the girl. Never had he been so baited by a woman, a woman so sure of herself. He lit cigarettes for them both and watched the pouted lips suck in smoke. She gave her blonde mass of curls a shake and began to talk.
"I used to work as a secretary full-time." She frowned at the thought. "My father's last gift was a trip to a secretarial school. He raised me, you see. I was a pest to have around, so he told me I would have to live on my own ... and support myself. So, I went to school and learned how to be a good little secretary." She rubbed her knee thoughtfully.
"I hated secretarial school," she said harshly.
"Why did you go then?"
"Old dad was leaving for Brazil. He's an engineer. He didn't want any part of me. Never did. I was a bastard, you see. My mother dumped me in his lap after I was born and he did his duty. There was never any love between us. I went to school the way he told me because he also told me he wasn't going to support me any longer. I made the best of it."
Morgan watched her carefully in the dim light. Was there a bit of sorrow in her voice? No, he decided suddenly. There was none of that. She was bitter now. Perhaps once she had felt sadness, loneliness; not now.
"So you had some bad breaks and the world owes you a living."
She turned on him suddenly. "Doesn't it owe you a living, too? You don't seem to have any compunctions about hiring me to help you spy and steal, do you?"
Morgan shrugged. She was right of course. He smiled to himself.
"Are you so sure I'm going to hire you?" he asked slyly.
"Yes." She met his eyes, piercing him with her intentness. "Why wouldn't you hire me? I'm made for this kind of game."
"Okay, tell me more. Finish your story and I'll tell you about the job. It is your job."
"Thank you." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "When I finished school I got a job and a little dinky apartment. I was miserable ... and determined to have a big helping of this." With a sweeping gesture she took in the room. Morgan followed her hands and again drank in the room.
"Go on," he told her.
"Well, I was working for this little company as a secretary-receptionist when a man came in. Duke Conroy. He paid a visit to my boss and afterwards we talked. He liked me. He was aware of my intelligence, even though I looked like a child. He took my phone number, one thing led to another and...." She grinned. "My first job with him was to lure this man into a sex trap, where we could get caught. Have pictures taken, you know, so his wife could get a divorce, lots of alimony."
"Did it work?" he asked, staring hard at her.
"Of course. I never fail. My pay was five hundred, but it was only the beginning. After all, it was only my first job."
Morgan shook his head in wonder. She was certainly an amazing girl.
"What then?" he managed to ask, expecting anything.
"Well, sometimes I would seduce a woman. Steal certain evidence. You name it." She laughed at his expression.
"Are you a lesbian?"
"It depends." She grinned engagingly. He couldn't help but laugh.
She ignored him and went on, still rubbing her knees. "There, I've told you all you need to know. I always carry out a job. You might say I'm cunning." She paused. "Now I want to know about your job.
"Yes." Morgan lit a new cigarette, thinking that she was indeed the perfect trap for Russ Marino ... with her seeming innocence. "Okay, it's this. First, did you ever hear of Raddon?"
"Raddon?" Bethie wrinkled her forehead. "Yes, advertising."
"Right." Morgan nodded, his eyes locked with hers. "I'm the owner-president of another agency, Clary Reed. Have you heard of it as well?"
"Yes, not as big as Raddon, is it?"
Morgan gave her a wry grin. "No, it's not ... yet! Raddon and I are competing for the same account. Byron Beer."
"Byron Beer?" Bethie whistled softly. She knew that name, too, Moran thought. Who wouldn't? That name was everywhere you looked. "I begin to understand. An account like that could make you."
"That's where you come in. I've already given all these details to Duke Conroy. It's up to you to get Raddon's proposed campaign. The whole thing: art-work lay-outs ... everything!"
"You mean steal the Raddon campaign before they present it? What will you do with it ... and how would I get into Raddon?"
"Wait a minute. One thing at a time. I have a fix in at the Marathon Employment Agency. They handle Raddon's account exclusively. Russ Marino, the president of Raddon has had a call in for two weeks now for a private secretary. My boy at Marathon, who handles Marino's account, has been sending him the worst collection of secretaries going. If you're as good a secretary as you say, I think you'll get in."
"So you're in a bit of a rush, too. I bet you didn't find another girl who you even could have suggested such a job to."
"To be honest, it has been hard."
"Yes, I'll bet. You're lucky you found me. How about my other question? Just to clear up my curiosity, you know. What will you do with the account campaign when you get it?"
"Why, sell it for half-price, to Byron Beer of course." She leaned back and laughed heartily, her breasts jiggling.
"Very clever, Mr. Reed. We have a lot in common."
"Yes, we do. I'll call Duke tonight and let him know."
"I'm sure he knows. You're not the only man I have convinced."
Morgan laughed. "Okay. Let's be serious now. Tomorrow you'll go to Marathon." He reached down and got his wallet, fumbling for a card. He removed a pencil from the pocket in his trousers and wrote on the back of the card. "There's a name on that card. You'll ask for him. Kane Moss. I signed the back so he'll know it's you. I'll call him tonight and tell him to expect you. Is everything clear? You have a camera?"
"Don't worry so much. I'll get the job. Relax. This sort of thing is what I get paid for."
Morgan leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. He hoped to hell that her calm was not just a front. He hoped that she really could carry this thing off. He opened his eyes and watched her slide into a pair of tight silk pajamas. She looked like a little girl again. It was not hard, though, to remember her performance in bed. She was almost a dual personality. One half of her was that little girl; the other half a bitter, scheming woman.
"I'll fix you lunch now."
Morgan glanced at the bedside clock. He couldn't help laughing. It was almost nine o'clock. "Hey...." He reached out his hand and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the bed. "Let's forget lunch."
"What ... again?"
He pulled her easily down on top of him, feeling the soft give of her plump bottom. She struggled for a moment and relaxed against his chest
"Okay ... we'll call this lunch." She smiled at him, her face close to his, her mouth open, beginning to grasp his bottom lip. Morgan reached his free hand over to the night table and pressed the button of the lamp. Already she was wriggling out of her pajamas, kicking them off like a child. He felt once more the warm nakedness of her and began to relax, looking forward to another session with her.
CHAPTER TWO
Bethie sat primly, her hands folded in her lap. It was, she thought, the perfect pose of a secretary looking for a job. A thin scarecrow of a girl came from one of the many inner offices and nodded curtly to her.
"You were waiting for Mr. Kane, weren't you?" She gave Bethie a final sniff of disapproval and nodded for her to follow.
The girl walked down the long, narrow hall and stopped at one of the many little doors, pushing it open with her large, bony hand. Bethie walked past her into a tiny nook of an office. The door shut behind her.
A thin, balding man sat behind a desk that Bethie thought much too big for him. He looked up, his glasses a little crooked on his wide nostrils. He adjusted them with a nervous gesture. Bethie smiled at him.
"Beth Rainie? Morgan Reed telephoned, said you were coming today. It's about time."
"Excuse me?" Bethie shifted in her chair. She wished he would get on with it. It sounded like he was accusing her of being late.
"I'm sorry." He blushed self-consciously, touching his glasses. "It's not your fault, but I could get fired. I mean from here. I've been sending Raddon some of the worst secretaries ... you know what I mean."
"I think so." Bethie smiled again. It was beginning to hurt her mouth.
"Well." He studied a piece of paper and grinned sickly at her. "If my boss ever found out! Raddon is one of our biggest accounts, you know. They use us exclusively. I'm lucky they haven't, complained. It's been a week since they put the call for a secretary in."
Kane Moss stopped suddenly, staring at Bethie as if he had seen her for the first time. She knew what he was thinking. He was wondering why Morgan Reed had picked her to spy at Raddon.
"I'm not as young as I appear," Bethie smiled. "Reed knows what he's doing."
"Oh, I suppose so. I'll call Raddon now and arrange an appointment. If they don't hire you-you are a secretary, too, aren't you?"
A thin stream of laughter filled her throat. He was too much. She gathered her wits and sobered up, meeting his nervous stare with some amusement.
"Yes, a graduate of Alberton Secretarial."
He heaved a sigh of relief and dialed a number, muttering something about getting more money from Morgan for taking chances like this. Bethie ignored him, looking around the little cubicle. She wasn't aware of him again until she heard the click of the telephone being replaced on its stand.
"Well ... that was Miss Amenson, Russ Marino's former secretary. She's expecting you. You can go right over."
Bethie took the card he handed her with the Marathon stamp on it. She left the office neatly, ignoring Kane Moss's whispered instructions as she closed the door behind her. She couldn't stand timid little men. She looked at the card and was pleased to notice that Raddon was only a few blocks east. She walked it, taking her time. Let them wait a little while for her there. She didn't want to suddenly appear, huffing and puffing, looking like she was begging for a job. No, they needed a secretary badly. She would be the golden angel walking through the door to solve all their problems. She turned the card in her hands and stuffed it in her pocket.
Despite the walk, she arrived at Raddon in a few minutes. It was a large office building. She entered the lobby and read the directory. Raddon was a pretty big place. She wondered if Morgan's agency had two full floors as well. She bet that it didn't. She looked at the directory again. Executive offices on the thirteenth floor. Thirteen ... Bethie wondered why they called it the thirteenth floor. Usually it was twelve, just skipping thirteen, then fourteen would follow miraculously. She smiled as the door shut and was still smiling when it opened again on the thirteenth floor.
The receptionist looked up and smiled as she came in. Bethie returned the smile and handed her the card. The girl looked surprised. They must have been sending some real dillies, Bethie thought, as she took a seat on an overstuffed modern chair. Raddon had a little money behind it, that was sure. She had barely picked up a magazine when a pretty, dark-haired girl with her hair pulled back came walking towards her.
"Hi. Beth Rainie? I'm Ruth Amenson. Come on, I'll take you through the maze to the boss's office."
"Thank you. That was fast." Bethie walked behind the girl, walking stiff, in her trim little suit of dark blue. She thought she looked very efficient. She would act the part of the good secretary, without any further personality, or brains. They passed a secretarial pool and a cluster of small partitions until they came to an oak door. Ruth turned to her for a second before she opened the door, flashing a smile of encouragement. Bethie smiled nervously, thinking of what a fool the girl was.
"Just take a seat; make yourself comfortable, Beth."
"Oh, call me Bethie." Bethie smiled up at her, flashing innocent eyes.
Ruth patted her shoulder. "Mr. Marino will be able to see you in a minute."
"Fine. That's fine."
Bethie watched the girl disappear behind the inner door and put off the urge to light a cigarette. A cigarette right now would spoil her perfect image. She planned most things carefully, and didn't take risks. That's why people came to her with odd jobs. Even the suit she wore was carefully picked. It hid her plentiful breasts, pressing them down under its heavy wool, masking them and her round thighs. She was the picture of secretarial good girl. The inner door opened and a woman walked out. Bethie looked up expectantly, thinking it was Ruth Amenson.
"Hello, darling. You here for the job?" The slim, elegant woman lit a cigarette with a small ivory lighter. Bethie nodded slowly.
The woman had money, that was obvious. She crossed the room with a graceful walk which Bethie knew she had been taught since birth. "Yes. Secretary," Bethie offered in her sweetest voice. The woman smiled, her eyes flickering over Bethie, measuring her. Bethie wondered for a moment what there was about the woman. She smiled at her, acting a little nervous. The woman stared towards the door, letting Bethie see the starkness of her grecian profile. She turned finally towards Bethie, her face wearing the barest minimum of a smile now.
"Yes, Mr. Marino told me he was looking for a new secretary." Again that flickering smile. Bethie knew what there was about the woman now, as she stopped before the door, her eyes taking in Bethie's face, traveling down her body, making her feel naked. The elegant woman was a lesbian. Bethie wondered for a brief moment if she had made a mistake. No, the woman was looking at her like a man would.
"Well, good luck now," the woman offered, and gracefully exited through the door. Bethie let her mind wander after the woman. It wasn't so much the woman's beauty; it was her manner. Bethie sighed. It had been a long time since she had been with a woman. Bethie's mind jerked away from the exotic woman and returned to the present as she heard the shuffling of papers and voices coming from the inner office. She hoped she could get this over with fast.
She took a last minute look at herself in her hand mirror, easing it half-way out of her pocketbook. Yes, a little make-up, trim, a bit prim, to keep the good business-like appearance. The door opened a crack and she heard the sound of laughter, as if a private joke had just been shared. Bethie smiled to herself. She had her private joke, too. The door opened all the way and Ruth Amenson stepped out with a paper in her hand.
"Miss Rainie?" She offered the paper as she spoke.
"Yes?" Bethie was all attention, taking the paper and scanning it quickly.
"Just a simple form. It's company policy. Do you have a pen?"
"Of course." Bethie flashed her honeyed smile and began writing, filling in the little blanks that asked impersonal questions. Of course, she thought secretly, she would fill in the blanks with her own neatly prepared, checkable lies. A detective agency that made as much money as Conroy's couldn't play games like this without being prepared for everything. There were companies who would lie, say yes, she had worked there for such and such a time. All very neat ... the way she liked to play. No loose edges.
Ruth Amenson waited, tapping her foot, her eyes staring off into space, lost in her personal thoughts.
Beth finished the form, handing it towards Miss Amenson. "The woman who was just here..." Bethie began. "Is she a big wheel here? She was very kind." Bethie watched Ruth's eyes leave the paper.
"Lainie Drew?" Ruth laughed. "Not-likely. She has an office on the second floor. Or should I say, she has the second floor." Ruth laughed again. "She's the lady president of Byron Beer." Ruth curled the form in her hands and motioned for Bethie to follow her. They passed through the polished wooden door, Ruth holding it open for Bethie to pass by her.
Bethie looked around her. It was certainly a far cry from the Marathon Agency offices. Yes, Raddon had a lot of money. She looked at the handsome young man, star-tied. She hadn't expected anyone who looked like this! She glanced from the dark young man to Ruth and saw pride mirrored in the girl's eyes. Ruth motioned for her to sit down as Mr. Marino straightened out his papers. Bethie took a seat and bided her time, getting acquainted with the feel of the place. It was an agency on its way into the big league, all right.
"Miss Rainie? Sit down." Russ Marino looked up and smiled, noticing she was already settled. Her eyes drank the dark handsomeness of him. He was obviously Latin, his hair a blue-black, shining in the soft desk light. His skin too was dark-not very dark, sort of like a good tan. He wore a heavy tweed sport jacket that fit his shoulders snugly. They were slim shoulders. He stood and walked to a small file cabinet. He was tall, too, she noticed. He flashed a smile at her as he regained his seat.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Miss ... Rainie." He looked at the card.
It irritated Bethie. Well, he would begin remembering her name soon enough. His eyes strayed over her trim suit. She felt as if she was clad in armor. Suddenly she wished she had worn something more feminine. That was silly. What could she be thinking of? There was plenty of time after she had the job in the bag to dress the way she wanted.
"I'm Russ Marino." His grin was even. White teeth flashed again. It was the contrast, she decided. The dark skin and white teeth.
"Alberton Secretarial, eh?" He stared at the card again. "Did you graduate?"
"Of course," Bethie answered, her eyes wide and, she hoped, prim.
He grinned. "A good school. Would you mind taking a little steno for me?"
"Not at all." Bethie produced a pad from her pocket book and sat waiting. He smiled at this bit of efficiency.
Bethie sat through two letters and let him lead her to a typewriter in the corner of the large office. She cleared her mind and sat typing. She would get the job, she knew. It was in the bag. Amidst the steady clack-clack of the typewriter, Ruth Amenson walked in. Bethie glanced her way while she typed and saw the look that passed over the girl's features when she looked at Russ Marino. So, she thought. That's how it was. The girl was in love with him. Well, that would possibly keep the girl's attention away from her, or else it could work the other way around.
Bethie pulled the last letter from the machine with a zip. Russ Marino turned around at the sound.
"I've finished, Mr. Marino." Bethie crossed the room and handed the two perfect letters to him. He in turn handed them to Ruth, after glancing at them briefly.
"You seem to have excellent qualifications, Miss Rainie. Give us a day to think it over. We have several other interviews. We'll call you."
"Thank you, Mr. Marino." Bethie turned to Ruth and touched her hand as she smiled her goodbye.
On the way down in the elevator, she thought over the situation. She had no doubts about her getting the job. Kane Moss would perhaps be sending over other applicants, but they would be like the previous ones. Terrible! She could have got the job all by herself, she thought. Kane Moss was just an extra insurance. It would be easy to get the information. Russ Marino was the head man at Raddon. Any new plans-any art-work ... everything-would have to pass through his office.
She walked out of the building, into the crowded city street. Bethie hailed a cab and leaned back in the seat, finally reaching for that postponed cigarette. She inhaled deeply, thinking with amusement of Lainie Drew. She couldn't get the woman out of her mind. It was going to be quite a job! There was Russ Marino-who might prove interesting-and Lainie Drew! Two new excitements in her life. Yes, this was going to be an interesting job. The taxi stopped in front of her house and she paid the fare.
As she left the elevator she heard the angry ringing of a telephone. It was coming from her apartment. She hastily unlocked the door and grabbed up the phone.
"Bethie? This is Morgan. How did it go?"
"Everything is all right Morgan. Why don't you come over ... and I'll give you all the details." Bethie smiled. In the meantime, there was still Morgan, who was an excellent lover.
"All right. I'll be right over. I'll bring some steaks ... for dinner."
"Wonderful." Bethie hung up and carefully removed her binding suit jacket.
In about an hour the downstairs bell rang and Bethie answered the intercom. She carefully unlocked the door to her apartment and returned to the foamy bubble bath she had just drawn. The water was hot, but she gritted her teeth and climbed in. When Morgan arrived at the door, she yelled that it was open. He followed the sound of her voice and arrived at the bathroom, leaning casually against the door.
"Hello, Morgan. You might be interested to know that I'm sure to get the job."
"Certainly. That's why I pay Kane Moss."
"No. I would get it anyway."
"You're too sure of yourself. Do you know that?"
"I have to be. I told you that once. You should be glad I am, after all...."
"I know. You're working for me."
"I took a typing and stenography test. I was excellent.
By the way ... oh, would you mind washing my back?" She smiled. "I met Lainie Drew."
Morgan sat on the edge of the tub, taking up a washcloth. His face tightened.
"Lainie Drew? She owns Byron Beer!"
"I know." She looked up at him as she pulled a mass of bubbles over to her breasts.
"Did you also know she was a lesbian?"
"I know that, too," Bethie singsonged.
"Uh!" Morgan grunted, running the wash cloth up and down her smooth back.
"Ummm!" Bethie scrunched up her round shoulders. "I like that. Who is Ruth Amenson to Russ Marino?"
"Engaged. Watch your step there. Ruth's a tigress."
"Watch my step? Little me? Why, what do you mean?"
Morgan stood angrily and dropped the wash cloth into the tub. Bethie smiled up at his anger.
"You're working for me. I want this to go off perfectly. Do you hear?"
Bethie stood up, the foamy driplets falling down her breasts.
"Hand me that towel please. Listen Morgan, I'm a perfectionist. I was just teasing you. Besides, whatever I do is to both our advantages."
"Make sure of that. If Lainie Drew was there that means she's interested. She's been there before!"
"Has she seen your agency too?" Bethie asked, wrapping the towel around her torso.
"Yes. She wasn't too interested. If I can get their plans though, she will be. At my price."
Bethie was once again the little girl. She took the bag of steaks from Morgan's hands and peeked in. "Ohhh! Beautiful steaks. I'll put them on right away. She took off the heavy towel and flung it across a chair. Morgan's face was giving in to a sarcastic smile. She went to the closet and took out her sexiest robe. She would probably be wearing working clothes every day from now on anyway.
She slipped into the frilly black robe that cleverly half-concealed her body, just showing the outline of every enticing curve. Morgan mixed them a drink, his eyes on her, a smile playing with his lips. Bethie left the room, taking the steaks with her. Morgan was enchanted by her, she knew. Well, it was amusing, but it would be his hard luck if he considered her more than a fling.
CHAPTER THREE
Ruth carefully thumbed through a sheaf of papers, looking for a particular file number. The wall clock told her it was almost ten P.M. She found the file and pulled it from the rest with her carefully manicured nails. She looked up and smiled at the top of Russ's head as it bent in serious thought. Ruth stretched her arms outward and yawned. She wasn't really tired. She was used to working late with Russ. It was one of the few times they could be alone together.
"Russ?" Ruth asked in a quiet voice.
"Humm?" Russ looked up, annoyed at being torn from his beloved work.
Ruth knew the look. She had seen it often enough. She suppressed a wry smile. He was waiting for her to speak, his fingers anxiously drumming on the desk top.
"Are you almost done?"
"Ruth . . you know I have a lot of work. I have to pick a presentation for Byron Beer soon!"
Ruth nervously bit her lips. "I know, hon. It's just that ... I thought we might have time to go to my place tonight. I could fix you a little snack."
Russ smiled, his white teeth glittering. "Ruth, I know what you have on your mind. Have I been ignoring you again?"
Ruth stood, smiling. She walked over to Russ's desk, stepping behind him.
"Ummm." Russ leaned back as Ruth took his head in her hands.
Her hands kneaded the tight muscles on his neck. He loved for her to do this. It was one of those little tender things that people in love have between them.
"I know you're busy hon. I guess I'm just a woman, perhaps too affectionate, perhaps too demanding."
"No, Ruth, I know I don't give you enough attention." Russ strained, leaning his head further back so he could look at her from his upside down angle.
Ruth felt that old familiar lump in her throat as she looked at him grinning up at her.
"Ruth, I love you. It's just that I have to make sure the business is off the ground. It's not enough to be doing well now. I have to make sure that we stay up here. The agency demands my attention, for the present anyway. Once we have the Byron Beer account things will be different."
"Yes, the Byron Beer account." Ruth felt her patience slipping, leaving her in one clean, gliding sweep. "Russ, why do we have to wait? Why can't we get married now? We wouldn't have to tell anyone; we could keep it a secret."
Russ pulled his head away from Ruth's tightening hands. She heard the sound of annoyance as it escaped his full lips. She bit her lip. Now she had done it. She couldn't help it though. She was sick of this office day in and day out. She wanted to be a wife! A full-time wife, not an office wife. They had been engaged for over a year now.
"Ruth." She met his black eyes and flinched. He could make her feel so guilty, so nervous, like a school girl. She hated to see his handsome face, usually so gentle, turn suddenly hard, severe.
"I know, Russ. I won't mention it any more."
"I thought you understood, Ruth. I won't marry you until I'm sure the agency is going to make a good living. You know all my reasons! We've been over this again and again."
"It's just that I love you, Russ. I want to live with you; make you breakfast."
"You speak as if you've never spent the night at my house."
"That's different, Russ. I want to be really married! Every day married. You know what I mean!"
Ruth stepped back from his chair. She suddenly felt the tears welling in her eyes. She didn't want him to see her cry. Russ turned slowly around on the swivel chair to stare at her as she struggled with her emotions. His face was once again tenderness.
"Come here." Russ held out his arms to her and she stepped like a sleep walker into that warm circle, feeling his hands rest on her hips. The tears were gone now. This was what she wanted.
"My Ruth. I should always have time for you." Russ slid his hands down the sleek curves of her hips. Ruth inhaled sharply, suddenly filled with a terrible want. Russ was so busy lately he hadn't had the time to make love to her. Perhaps she was too gentle. She just didn't know how to get around him, seduce him, like some women who ruled their men.
"Russ, it's been a long time." Ruth let her knees bend under her as she lowered herself gently to the thick carpet. Russ let his hands go with the motion, sliding them up around her small, firm breasts. Underneath the prim wool fabric of her dress, her small nipples hardened. Russ smiled.
"It has been a while, hasn't it?"
"Yes!" The word flew from Ruth's mouth in a gust of breath. She felt her eyes half-close, her mouth open.
Russ stood and bent down, carefully scooping her in his arms. Ruth watched the room's familiar objects drift by and the sudden softness of the large couch coming up to meet her. She stretched, her breasts straining against the fabric of the dress, aching to be freed. Happiness flooded her body and mind. This would bring them closer. Lord, how she missed him. She sat up suddenly, excited as she watched Russ remove his clothes. She reached behind her and started the zipper moving down the back of her dress.
Russ reached over and pulled the zipper the rest of the way. Ruth kneeled, pulling the dress over her head, revealing her slim figure, clad only in garter belt, stockings and bra. Russ leaned back, slipping off his socks. Ruth tried not to stare at his naked manhood as he watched her unfasten her bra, but she couldn't help herself. She knew Russ had a liking for large breasts. Hers were not to his liking, she knew, but they were firm and fit her slim figure. Sometimes she almost felt embarrassed when she stood naked in front of him. Ruth sat down and pulled the garter belt free of her waist.
"Let me." Russ reached out and gathered her stocking at the top of her leg. First one, then the other. He pulled them gentiy free.
At least she had some good assets. She was silly to think that Russ wished her body to be any different than it was. He loved her, was going to marry her ... some day.
Her sudden rising thoughts fled as Russ pushed her gently down on the couch.
Ruth raised her arms to his head, her fingers prying through the curly hair there. She held his head gently as he reached for her breasts with his mouth.
"Any more than a mouth full would be a waste," Russ whispered against her flesh.
Ruth smiled to herself, shivering. Russ sensed how she felt. He always tried to put her at ease about her body, perhaps about everything. The warm heat of his legs burned against her hips. She could feel him growing against her stomach. She reached out her hand to touch him and withdrew it suddenly. A look of disgust flashed across Russ's face. She tried to tell herself that she had imagined it. She could feel the slow heat spreading to her thighs, the slow churning of her stomach. What was wrong with her? She liked him to make love to her, but there were some things. ... Sex was still a little dirty in some part of her mind. She wanted to lose these feelings. Russ hated her sudden primness, she knew. She would get over it when they were married! Once they were making love, it was different. She didn't know why he wanted her to touch him anyway. She lay back, taking her hands from his head. Russ moved over her body, his weight now full upon her breasts and belly. The stiff hairs on his legs bit into her like small insects. Ruth moaned softly, filling the room with the sound. Her head turned back and forth against the grainy couch fabric as Russ moved, drawing her into his excitement with his quick hands, grasping her flesh, driving her to want.
It was different now, she thought wildly. Once he had her like this, the wanting removed all the grit from her mind. Her legs pushed against him, wanting him to place himself. Her hand moved as if she would take him, but stopped mid-way between his thighs, timidly touching the warm flesh of his belly instead. Russ was growing anxious. He was rough sometimes. He searched around her with his hand. Ruth cried out with pleasure as she felt his fingers slide across her sensitive flesh. Russ smiled above her and took himself in hand, pushing gently at her. Ruth moved her legs together, but Russ, with his muscular thighs, angrily pushed them apart. Her hands reached around him, clutching at his back, feeling him nudge deeper and deeper.
"Yes, Ruth ... now it's okay." Russ spread his fingers, reaching for her breasts and angrily squeezing them. Ruth cried out.
"Hurt baby?" Russ asked maliciously. "Yes ... yes it does. I can tell."
Ruth let his excited words pass her. She was too engrossed to think about them now. She could feel her body reacting without her neat little mind. Her hips twitched, eager to receive him completely. She groaned to let Russ know.
"Now baby?" Russ asked, raising his hips and sliding away from her wanting, her need. How could he tease her like this?
"Please! Please!" Ruth cried, raising her hips up, moving them lustily.
"Begging ... is Ruth begging now?" Russ smiled, moving again closer. Her fingernails dug into his back. His sudden force was violent. Ruth flinched with the movement, crying out in pain. He was punishing her, she knew. She was a captive. Russ liked to make love like this, hard and brutal. She wanted him to be tender, loving.
She moved her body, wanting him not to be so violent. She tried to catch his eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. His hands reached and pulled her hands from behind her, pinning them up above her head. Ruth struggled against this movement, but was helpless. Russ moved her legs, stretching them apart until she could feel the cramps in her muscles. He had her now. It was useless to struggle against it. She would be better off to try and enjoy it. She was filled with the passion still, only she suspected a different sort of passion on Russ's part. He knew her body well enough now though. He eased gently up and down until her mind was free from the nagging thoughts and again caught up in the fire of this moment.
When he had her gasping, her mouth open with his slow, provocative movements, he resumed his harsh movements. Ruth was ready now, the painful desire needing to be filled. The thick wet sounds filled her ears as her heart beat in her throat. She forgot the pain in her legs, forgot the reasons dwelling in Russ's mind and let her body strain against his, meeting him with complete openness. Each time he met the resisting flesh and pulled back, Ruth felt a despair, until he returned with new force. Again and again he attacked her, thudding against her belly, leaving small beads of sweat in his wake.
"Yes ... oh yes ... Russ, I love you ... love you."
Russ pulled back and turned her over suddenly. Ruth didn't realize what he was going to do. They had never departed from the norm before. For a brief moment she thought he was going to-no, he was just taking a different route ... arriving at the same place. She began to protest, but her need was too much. She was being prim again. There was no reason why she should get into a rut in making love, too. She relaxed as she felt him there again, his weight warm on her slim, sleek buttocks. This felt different, strange-but good. He reached under her and grasped her breasts, one in either hand. Yes, it felt good. Russ reached next to her and took one of the decorative pillows, placing it under her belly. Ruth's mind was filled with a sudden panic. She knew she was accessible now ... too open. She tried to relax as she met the first onslaught of Russ's hard self, the new angle hurting her. As he continued, however, she relaxed until she was familiar with the new sensation. She felt the beginning of her fulfillment. If only he would slow down for a moment. Russ had his own ideas. Each time he met her upraised buttocks he ground his own hips in a circle.
"Oh, that's it ... yes, darling." Ruth raised her hips even more now, delighting in the feeling. Russ, his weight against her back, ground himself against her as if they were one flesh. Ruth felt the new sensation begin in a slow rumble and work its way to the surface. She cried loudly, long groans filling the air as she was released in a vortex of spinning dizziness.
Russ's movements grew rapid now and she heard the noises growling deep in his throat and knew he was about to reach the end. She raised herself up higher, eager to please him. She held herself until she felt him quiver and then ... the long release. She moved her buttocks gently from side to side until he lay still upon her back.
Ruth felt her breath finally slowing up and Russ's weight sweet and content upon her back. He moved, taking himself from her in one sudden movement. Ruth turned over on her side and watched him. His face was once again deep in thought. This time she knew it was not business that concerned him, but her ... yes, her. Ruth tried to speak, but found her throat cluttered up with emotion. The emotion sorted itself out and she found her tongue.
"Russ ... I know I'm not the best lover you've ever had...."
"Please, Ruth ... let's not...."
"Yes, I have to speak of it now ... so do you. Please, Russ. I just want you to understand. You're my first lover, the only man who...."
Russ sat up suddenly and grasped her shoulders, planting a kiss on her lips. He released her and met her eyes with his deep, dark stare.
"I know all this, Ruth. You're growing used to me now. You ... you...."
"Go ahead, Russ. I can take it. Talking about it is the best way. I know my faults."
"Ruth, it's just that you hold yourself in so much ... inside. You never let go. Sex is beautiful. You treat it as if it was just a quick tranquilizer."
Ruth held back the sudden pain and tried to appear unhurt as his words sliced away her insides. What was wrong with her? She knew these things, had known for a long time she was reduced to this half-prim, half-lascivious woman. Not completely anything! She looked up and Russ continued.
"Ruth, you are a good lover, except for ... well, the little things. like ... like touching me. There's nothing wrong with any form of sex! You have to learn that."
"I will, Russ, I will. I'm working on it. It's just the hangover from my strict up-bringing. I will learn, darling."
Russ smiled and began dressing. "I know you will, Ruth. We have plenty of time to learn, to adjust."
"Russ?" Ruth forced herself to ask the question. "Does our ... sexual relationship have anything to do with our getting married? If we were together all the time we could learn faster."
"It has nothing to do with that, Ruth. Believe me. I gave you my reasons. Look, Ruth, I love you. Keep that in mind. Now let's get back to work. I have a lot to do tonight. I want to give the copy department and the art department the go-ahead tomorrow. Okay?"
Ruth nodded, dressing slowly. They had talked a little, but still she felt they had not said anything. Russ lost patience with her too easily. She had to loosen up. She just had to! Or she knew she would lose Russ. A thought nickered across her mind and she pushed a bit of stray black hair from her eyes.
"Russ? Are you going to hire that girl? That Beth Rainie?"
Russ looked up from his desk. "I think so. She's a pretty good secretary."
"And pretty," Ruth added.
"Oh, Ruth ... come on. I don't want to see the green-eyed monster here. You're pretty too, you know."
"Yes, I'm sorry."
"You should be. Miss Rainie appears to be sweet sixteen ... like an angel. You don't have to worry about her. I don't have to worry about her either. You see? I'd have to be a fool not to hire her."
"I guess you're right." Ruth dressed, returned to her desk and began her work. She stopped, lost for a moment in nagging thoughts.
What was wrong with her, anyway? He was right, wasn't he? Miss Rainie was sweet looking. What possible threat could she be to Ruth? There was something about the girl. Some hidden feeling about her. She was being foolish, she told herself. It was just that in her own lack of security, sexually, she feared any woman. That was it.
Any woman who might better her was a threat ... even a sweet young thing like Beth Rainie.
Ruth shook her head and looked over at Russ. He met her eyes and smiled. Russ ... Russ ... I love you so much. She spoke the words silently, but she knew Russ heard. She blushed and returned to her work.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lainie stirred the martinis carefully in the tall crystal beaker, keeping an eye on Violet, who stretched sensuously on the couch. Violet was a perfect social secretary, for the time being. One tired easily of the same woman though. Lainie let a small, perfect grin mar her classical features. She poured the martinis into two thin glasses. Money did have its good points. She could change secretaries at random, for instance.
Lainie sighed. It had been a long time since she had actually loved a woman. A long, long time. She ran a long fingered hand down her lounging pajamas and walked to the couch where Violet reached gracefully for a drink. Yes, she was growing tired of Violet. Violet knew it, too. Yes, Lainie could tell by the small signs of nervousness that slowly began to show themselves. She spilled a lot of things lately, and frequently stammered. She was a pretty girl though, her hair long, gray-brown, unusually large brown eyes, wet ... like a cocker-spaniel's. Lainie laughed sweetly, patting Violet's knee.
"What is it, Lainie? Did I do something wrong?" Violet licked her puffy bottom lip.
Yes, she was definitely showing signs. Poor little Violet. Lainie narrowed her slanted green eyes and sipped her martini, enjoying Violet's confusion. Yes, it was time to trade in the old. Next time she would get a girl who was more of a challenge-someone with a little nerve, intelligence.
"Can I do anything for you, Miss Drew?" Violet asked, suddenly sitting up on the couch, straightening her skirt.
"Miss Drew, Violet? What happened to Lainie?"
"I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little jittery today. You know how it is."
"Yes, Violet, I know how it is. Drink up, for tomorrow we die."
Violet started, spilling a few drops of her drink. Lainie raised an eyebrow at Violet. A few more weeks with her and Violet would be glad to be free again ... although she would miss the money that a confidential social secretary made. Yes, Violet knew. All of the girls Lainie had hired at one time or another knew when they were through. Lainie was the queen of her castle.
Yet, it was harder and harder to amuse one's self lately. Of course there was Jackson, her husband-the latest of her five or six husbands. She couldn't even remember the exact number of husbands. They no longer existed. As a matter-of-fact, Jackson himself was soon to make the extinct list. Lainie turned to the girl and gave her a short smile. Her hand absent mindedly ran down the girl's silky leg. Violet moved slightly. Violet was now imagining that Lainie had some sort of need for her. Perhaps she did-momentarily, of course.
The truth was that Lainie Drew needed no one. She couldn't tolerate weakness and yet it seemed to seek her out. She was so strong-like a man. She thought like a man as well. Jackson might think he was now controlling her company, but she, as well as the board of directors, knew the truth. Jackson was only a puppet. He was Lainie Drew's puppet, like all the rest of her husbands. All, except one-the one who had taught her to think like a man. Lainie was suddenly aware of the glass in her hand.
She would not let her mind rest on that old hash. She was too strong for that. She drained off the contents of the glass and motioned for Violet to move over so she could rest her, head in the girl's plump little lap. Violet seemed pleased. Well, let her, Lainie told herself. Grant the girl a few more moments with her silly dream. Lainie moved her head, sighing as she did.
"Tired, Miss Drew-Lainie? Would you like a rub-down?"
"No. Oh, yes, perhaps I would." Lainie sat up and let the girl unbutton the flimsy pajamas. Lainie shook her breasts free. She might pay for her slaves, but at least she didn't repulse them. She was still a very beautiful woman. Age had been gentle with her, but then she was only thirty. Not really old, just on her way. Later on, when time grew less gentle with her, money would be even more useful than it was now.
"Alcohol or mint rub ... Lainie?"
"Mint, Violet." Lainie watched Violet's hips move provocatively against the skimpy dress, the long legs swishing against each other. She felt her thighs grow warm. Violet still had her good points. Lainie suddenly thought of the girl she had seen at Raddon. What was her name? Rainie, like her name ... but Rainie was her last name. There was something about that girl, something different, hiding in amongst all that sweetness. Well, she would have a chance to search it out later. She knew that Russ Marino would give the girl the job. There was something subtle, irresistible about her.
Lainie looked up. Violet had returned with the mint rub and was standing there, waiting for orders, Lainie thought. Lainie slipped out of her pantaloon bottoms and left them in a silky puddle for Violet to pick up later. She leaned forward and Violet stepped closer, removing the pins that held the dark, shining hair. The hair fell in long ropes around her slim neck, covering her breasts. Lainie shook her head, feeling the freedom sweep through her. Now there were no restraints. Her hair was like a secret she kept all day and then let free in the evening. Violet was watching her with clear eyes, wet with wanting. Yes, she didn't really have to pay Violet for her services. Violet would be glad to make love to her anyway. Lainie stretched out on the couch, her backside sleek and round, like the rest of her, quivering in the room's dim light. Violet made small sounds in her throat as she poured a little of the mint mixture on those round globes. Lainie squealed with the first cooling contact.
Violet did have good hands, Lainie thought, feeling the girl take her flesh, grasping it tightly for a moment and letting it go. All the while, Lainie lay like a cat listening to the sounds of Violet's breathing and feeling the heat within her own loins begin to grow, gaining fire. She moved her hips, stirred by the contact of Violet's demanding hands. Her back, legs and buttocks were covered with the cooling fragrance now and Violet worked rapidly, letting her slim hands slide between Lainie's straining thighs, slide into the deep-set recess, drawing Lainie into the excitement.
"Take off your clothes, Violet, and let me rub you down too."
Violet put her hands on the tiny buttons on the front of her dress and stopped, listening.
Lainie heard the sound too. A car pulling into the driveway.
"Oh damn! What the hell is he doing home so early? Damn! Damn!"
"Shouldn't you dress, Miss ... Lainie?"
Lainie propped herself up on her elbows, her breasts jiggling. She pursed her lips and glanced at Violet annoyed. "No, Violet! Mr. Drew knows my past times. I just wouldn't appreciate being caught in the act itself. Embarrassing, you know?" Lainie suddenly laughed. The only one who was embarrassed right now was Violet. Did she think Jackson didn't know? Well, she wasn't going to rush around her own house getting dressed, like a school kid being caught. No. Besides, she liked to see Jackson suffer a little.
That was the least he could do for the privilege of pretending to run Byron Beer. Not that he wasn't fond of her-or at least of her body. The truth though, Lainie thought, sighing, was that Byron Beer was far more attractive.
"Violet ... finish rubbing my back."
"But, Lainie ... Mr. Drew...."
One razor-edged look at Violet and she meekly obeyed, kneeling this time on the floor to distribute the mint rub. Lainie half-closed her eyes and listened with a fraction of a smile on her beautiful face to Jackson's short steps attack the stairs.
"Lainie? Lainie!"
"In here, darling. In the study!" Lainie called, feeling Violet's hand quiver on her back.
Jackson made his way into the study. Lainie looked up, her hair tumbling over the front on her shoulders. She gave him a wide, welcoming smile and patted the couch for him to sit down. Jackson stood, his narrow, even features distorted by the scene in front of him.
"Well, sit down, Jackson. You're looking a bit like a wooden Indian."
"Lainie ... do you mind if I speak to you ... alone?" Lainie watched Jackson glare at Violet.
Violet gathered up her lotion and shoes and quietly made her way from the room. Lainie watched her go and turned to Jackson. He lowered his eyes to the heavily carpeted rug and loosened his collar. Poor Jackson, Lainie thought. He did get so embarrassed for her sake.
"Take off your jacket, dear. Sit down." Lainie laughed, tugging the jacket from Jackson's shoulders. "You look so tired. Did you have a rough day?"
Jackson sat down heavily, his slim frame taking on the familiar slouch. Lainie almost felt a pang of tenderness for him, but brushed it away quickly. After all, she was just being her usual, bitchy self. A man in her past had once compared her to a spider that eats its mate after the mating. That's what this was now ... after the mating.
Jackson turned to her, his eyes filled with contained anger. He looked so young, Lainie thought. So very young.
A few strands of his light brown hair fell over his forehead and he brushed them away quickly. She knew what he was stewing about. It was Violet being in her room-with Lainie naked. She rubbed his neck gently underneath the stiff collar.
"Lainie ... I wish ... I wish you wouldn't use Violet for your personal maid."
"Jackson, don't be silly. She was giving me a rub down."
"Lainie!" Jackson heard the strangled sound in his own ear and lowered his voice. "Do you think I don't know what goes on between you two?"
Jackson's eyes met hers briefly and looked away. He stood suddenly and made his way to the bar. Lainie turned over and lay on her back, her long legs bent seductively, her arms under her tumbled hair.
"Jackson, you were born into a wealthy family."
Jackson turned for a second as he mixed his drink, his face filled with bitterness.
"I know, dear-your family lost their money-but what I'm trying to say is, you know the moral code of the very wealthy." Lainie opened her eyes in mock innocence. "There is none." Her face grew solemn. "I mean to say, life is so short. It's my duty to enjoy it in any way I know how. It doesn't take away from you, does it?"
Jackson turned, his face mottled with anger. He reached for his tie and jerked it from around his collar. "You know what it does to me, Lainie. It drives me crazy. You know it. You like to tease me with your ... other interests. You always parade it in front of me somehow."
Lainie sighed. "I'm afraid you have to take me as I am." Jackson strode over to the couch and resumed his seat again. Lainie pulled her legs further up so he would have room. He tried not to look at her as he drank. She watched him finger an expensive paper weight. It seemed she made everyone nervous tonight.
"Let's not dwell on the subject, Jackson. How were things at the Long Island office?"
"Don't you know?" Jackson smiled for the first time since he had come in. It wasn't an amused smile, though. Lainie was sure of that.
"Of course I know, dear. But managing the New York office, I'm not aware of all the little details." Lainie patted his shoulder.
"I think you are aware of every little detail, Lainie, concerning everything." Jackson hesitated for a moment and put the paper weight down on the end table with a thud. "For example ... I was planning on contacting the various ad agencies today and told my secretary to get me a list."
Lainie knew what was coming. "Yes...."
"Well, it seems you even get to my secretary. She informed me you had already narrowed it down ... between two agencies."
"Jackson, Raddon is right in the building. Of course I visited them first. They're a good agency. As for Clary-Reed ... I just have them to compare with what Raddon offers. If they come up with something good ... well...."
Lainie spread her hands.
"Why didn't you let me handle it? Am I really just a ... a false figurehead? I tried to tell myself otherwise...."
"Jackson! Stop worrying, dear. I've managed the business a long time. It is my company, my decisions. You do an important job, but you can't expect to handle everything, can you?"
Jackson started to speak, but Lainie took his face in her hands. Now that she had overpowered him it was all right to give of herself. It was true that she did prefer a woman's touch, but. ... She pulled Jackson's face down to hers and opened her mouth, taking his bottom lip in between her own soft lips. Jackson's face showed annoyance, but she knew she could erase that-for the time being.
"Lainie...." Jackson pulled away.
Lainie stretched seductively in front of him, her legs opening a little as she twisted her hips. Her lips she opened as well, licking them slightly at the comers. Jackson flinched, wanting, she knew, not to fall prey to this lascivious game of hers. He would though. He always did.
"Please, Jackson, we'll talk business later. Just kiss me. Please...."
Jackson, dutiful Jackson, Lainie thought, as he lowered his body, filling her mouth with his tongue. His hands sought her breasts and clutched at them, as if to hold on. Lainie moved her hips up towards his, meeting the jutting hardness of his bones. He withdrew his tongue for a moment and looked deep into her eyes.
"Lainie, the Dragon Lady. You're the deadly trap, aren't you?"
"Yes ... yes," Lainie whispered at him. "I am. Kiss me again."
Jackson let her fumble with his shirt buttons. He left her a moment and stood, quickly removing his clothes. The best thing about Jackson, Lainie told herself, watching his slender legs slide from the gray flannel trousers, is that he is hot in the pants.
"Lainie ... you're a bitch," Jackson murmured, as he lowered his body over hers. "A bitch."
"Yes, dear," Lainie replied, her arms reaching behind him to grasp his firm buttocks, her nails digging deeply into his flesh. Jackson met this movement with a heavy groan, his hands torturing her breasts. She liked that small show of aggressiveness. Lainie writhed under him, one of her hands reaching for him, grasping him firmly, working itself up and down over him, delighting in his want.
She opened her legs wide and guided him, then twisted her head, feeling him meet the momentary resistance. Her dark hair tangled in her eye lashes and she blew it away. She had strong legs, lightly muscled from all the summers at Palm Beach. She used those legs now to entrap Jackson's wiry thighs, holding him tight. She conquered him mentally-and then, in her own way, she conquered him physically. Jackson was a great deal like a woman in some ways.
"Here...." Lainie held him, moving around him easily, exciting him until she thought he might burst. Suddenly she released him, pushing him away while she slid out from under him. He knew what was coming. A brief flicker of rage crossed his young features, his brown eyes blazing.
Lainie pushed him gently down. He knew better than to lose his temper though. It would cost him too much. He also knew better than to stop, even if he could. He would have to make love her way, too. Lainie always won. She climbed on top of him, enjoying the feel of him and delighting in the groan that came from him. Perhaps part of his groan was at the injustice of it all, Lainie mused.
"There," she whispered. "Doesn't that feel better?"
She let her full breasts slide across his chest, the nipples turning into little points of tenderness. Jackson slid his arms around her hips as she rode easily up and down. She was the one who was making love to him now. She was in command once more. She was the man-not poor, weak Jackson!
"More? Hmmm? More?" she asked gently, twisting her body over his warm flesh in a quick rhythm. Jackson twisted beneath her, each time her body swallowed him. Lainie Drew was in control once more.
CHAPTER FIVE
The extension cord trailed across the round kitchen table as Bethie nodded absently into the phone cradled between her head and shoulder.
"Yes, Duke, I will. Yes, as soon as I find out. I'm sure everything is perfect." Bethie slid the knife across the toast, spreading the jam evenly. She listened as the doorbell rang. "Listen, Duke, that must be him now. I'll call." Bethie laid the toast on the table and replaced the receiver on its cradle.
She made her way swiftly into the living room and picked up the hall intercom.
"Yes, I'm expecting him." She opened the door a crack and returned to the kitchen, sighing. She didn't like her home made into a waiting room. Her apartment had always been her hideaway, her private place. Now Morgan Reed was on his way up-to wait out the call from Raddon. Was that all there was to it? Bethie smiled slightly, taking a bite of toast. No, she was smarter than that. She could just as easily have reported to Duke and Duke to Morgan. No, she knew men better than that. This particular man, Morgan Reed, was taken with her.
She pulled a kitchen chair back and sat down, hearing the latch on the door click. Morgan Reed walked slowly into the kitchen and took a chair without a word. Bethie smiled at him, indicating the coffeepot.
"Good morning, Mr. Reed. The coffee is hot. Have a cup."
"I think I will. I didn't realize you would just be getting up."
"I'm not just getting up. I got up a few hours ago. It's just that I have no desire for food early in the morning. I usually wait a while before breakfasting."
"I see." Morgan found a cup and poured it full of the steaming brew. "Did Duke call you? I imagine he did, since you didn't show any surprise at seeing me." He flashed his green eyes at Bethie and resumed his seat.
"I could have contacted you as soon as I heard from Raddon," Bethie stated quietly, meeting the heavy sea of his eyes.
"Yes ... I know." Morgan measured out two teaspoons of sugar and dumped them into his coffee. "The truth is, I wanted to see you again."
"Oh?" Bethie finished her toast and sipped her coffee. "I like you Morgan, but I'm a business woman."
She watched his eyes harden perceptively over his coffee cup. She suddenly realized how she could use Morgan Reed to her advantage. She would have to take it easy though. She smiled at him.
"Don't be upset, Morgan. I was just trying to tell you my prime concern is my business. I am working for you, you know. You should be glad."
That was better, she told herself. Easy does it.
"I am. I just spoke to Marathon a little while ago. They say that Russ Marino was very pleased with you."
"I think so. I am a good secretary. I told you."
"You would appear to be a good everything."
Bethie stood. "Let's take our coffee into the living room." The little flowered house dress rode up her thighs. Bethie let it. This little job might be a double paying deal-if she played her cards right.
She led Morgan to the couch and sat, drawing her legs up underneath her. Morgan followed her every move. His thoughts were written on his face. Yes, he was anxious about Raddon-but he was also a little anxious about her.
"Relax, Morgan. Raddon will call." Bethie drained her coffee and sat the cup on the coffee table. She leaned back, stretching.
"You look very fetching this morning. I've been thinking about you ... since I left here the other night. Something about you sticks to me."
"Really? That's quite a compliment. I thank you."
"I've never met a woman quite like you. You seem to be an enigma. Tell me, have you ever been in love with anyone?"
Bethie shifted her weight, her eyes seeking the rug. The question, she told herself. She didn't want to speak of that. On the other hand, it might be easier for her to deal with Morgan if he knew she was human. The man might even hold a hope that she might some day fall in love with him-if he knew she was capable of falling in love. All men wanted to be loved, whether they returned the love or not. It was a compliment to the huge male ego.
"I take it you don't want to answer me?"
Bethie looked up and met Morgan's eyes. "I was just thinking. Yes, I've been in love-once."
"Can I ask what happened?"
"We were going to be married as soon as he felt he was in a position to support me and his career. I helped him climb each slow step in every way I could-using every means I could." Bethie let her thoughts drift for a moment. She didn't want to think about this. She didn't! She had started though, and she must get it over with quickly. Morgan waited, his eyes fixed to her face.
"He made the big climb, with my help. The very top. And then he was there and he found suddenly he needed a woman who fit in. A society woman, of course." Bethie smiled, spreading her hands. "Simple."
Simple, yes simple, she thought, keeping the bitterness at bay. All men were fixed in her mind along with him. Well, it was long over and she would not now think about it-would not dwell on the men, the fat old men she had slept with, hoping to get him an interview. All the things she had done for him!
"I'm sorry," Morgan said gently.
Bethie narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her face serene. "Don't be," she told him "That's all a part of yesterday. I don't live in yesterday."
"I'm glad."
"Are you?" Bethie touched Morgan's hand, a trace of tenderness on her face.
He was sorry, was he? He probably thought now that he could get close to her, sleep with her any time he pleased. Well, he could if he paid for the honor. The outline of her little story had touched him. He felt protective now. She could have laughed in his face. No man would ever wring an emotion from her again. The only man she had any trust for was Duke Conroy-and that was more of a respectful nature.
Bethie crossed the room and pulled the heavy cord on the drapes. Sunlight filled the room. She stood at the window, knowing that she made a pretty sight for Morgan Reed. She was a girl who knew all the angles and played every one for all it was worth.
The telephone filled the room with its harsh sound. Bethie met Morgan's eyes for an instant and walked slowly to answer it, letting a second ring echo. Morgan lit a cigarette, still staring at her. He was nervous, Bethie told herself.
"Hello?" Bethie nodded to Morgan. "Yes, Miss Amenson. Tomorrow would be fine. Yes, I'm very pleased. It's just the job I want. Thank you Miss Amenson." A self-satisfied smile played on her lips as she sat down.
"So ... sweet Bethie works for Raddon," Morgan grinned.
"Yes. Do you think it's too early for a victory drink."
"Not at all. Bourbon?"
"Of course." Bethie got behind the small bar and poured two fingers of bourbon in two glasses.
She carried the glasses to the couch, carefully moving her hips. She felt seductive. Morgan Reed sat, reaching for the glass, his eyes shining with his good fortune. Soon he would try to claim the second part of his good luck, namely her. She would have to be careful now. Morgan Reed was a bright man. His desire was her forte though. She had watched the most brilliant man lose his grip in the face of his desire.
Morgan toasted her now, his glass raised, the sunlight shining through the amber liquid. Bethie felt secure. She sipped her drink, feeling the liquid slide into her belly, warming her.
"You are all you advertise at that. Sweet Bethie. Raddon has played right into our hands. Now you must be careful."
"I'm always careful-in everything."
She watched Morgan's face respond to her statement with a grimness. "Yes, I suppose you are. I might tell you that I once had someone at Raddon, a bookkeeper."
"Spying for you?" Bethie held the drink tightly. Anger filled her.
"Yes. Don't worry. He was never caught. As a matter-of-fact, he grew suddenly frightened and quit me ... and Raddon."
"Oh." The anger drained from her body. For a moment she had thought she was dealing with another client-who had not leveled with her. She had experienced that kind of a deal before.
"I was wondering how you could use the Raddon campaign. Can't they sue you?"
"I'll make a few minor changes ... and then I'm safe."
"Very ethical of you." Bethie said sarcastically. "Are you speaking to me about ethics? You."
"Not really." Bethie leaned her head back and laughed heartily.
She stopped her laughing and yawned, standing slowly.
The dress rode up invitingly. "I have a lot to do," she said in a sweet voice.
It seemed like she was dismissing him, she knew. If her timing was as good as usual he would play right into her hands. Bethie began to look around the apartment.
"I start at Raddon tomorrow. Of course I'll keep you informed. Right now I'd better get my things in order if I'm going to hold a steady job." She moved towards the bedroom, hearing Morgan's light step behind her. She felt her wrist touched harshly. Morgan whirled her around to face him. She met his glare with a look of surprise-and a bit of distaste.
"What kind of a game are you playing?" he demanded.
Bethie shook her wrist free and rubbed it, a pout on her lips. "Game? I haven't been playing a game with you. I would have told you if Raddon had called. You have to remember, I didn't invite you here-did I?"
Morgan smiled, a nasty smile, pulled to one side of his mouth. "No, you didn't." Morgan moved against the wall, measuring her. He was wondering what she was up to.
"Once I was here it was all right though. Wasn't it?" His eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?" Bethie asked. "You are my client. Once you were here, I made you comfortable. Now I have work to do."
"You made me comfortable. Yes, you did ... but you have a way of seducing a man-a very subtle way-"
"Perhaps I just have a seductive nature. Now I have work to do. I told you before, I'm a business woman."
Bethie brushed past his body, feeling the heat of his loins. She passed into the bedroom and began straightening up. Morgan followed her. She kept the smile from her face. How badly she wanted to smile. Men! Once you knew how to control them, they were like dogs. They always jumped at the right time.
Morgan stood beside her bed, his face stony. His male ego was crushed, his pride wounded. Anger was thick in the room. Bethie innocently went about her business making the bed.
"Okay. What do you want? Money?"
Bethie faced him, a look of surprise filling her face. "Money?"
"Yes ... is it money you want?"
"What do you think I am, a prostitute? Certainly not money!"
Morgan rolled his eyes at the ceiling in mock dismay. "Okay, your time is valuable. You are a business woman. I ask you what you want. You must know that I desire you. I can't look at you without. ... I'm sure you know." She watched him fold his arms, his lips compressed.
It was her move. She did not like it to be so abruptly shoved into her lap. She would rather play the seduction game, making him think it was his idea. Morgan was pretty bright though.
"I don't want anything you wouldn't want to give me. I don't want your money." Bethie crossed the room, easing around the bed toward Morgan.
"I like you, Morgan. I just...." She looked at his face, taking his hands in her own. On his index finger was a large ring, bright with diamonds. Bethie's eyes caught the fire of the ring. She looked from the ring to Morgan.
"Well ... I see. You like that ring, do you?"
"I like diamonds. Diamonds are the only stones I care for. The ring is in exquisite taste."
"Yes, I do see at that." Morgan's eyes slit, sparkling as he grinned.
"Would you like a ring, Bethie?" Morgan asked finally.
Bethie stood close to him. "What woman wouldn't like gifts? I would love a ring!"
"I feel it's like you. The hard diamond ring."
"Don't be silly." Bethie eased her body tight against Morgan's own heated flesh. "Kiss me."
Morgan bent his head down, taking her lips. She felt his teeth tighten around the tender flesh. Suddenly he lifted her from the ground. She closed her eyes as she half-fell to the bed. Morgan stood over her undressing, throwing his clothes on the floor. He was still angry, she told herself. He was going to take it out on her-sexually. Good. She closed her eyes, grinning, knowing her small white teeth gleamed against her pink lips. Morgan's hands roughed her, pulling the dress from over her head. She wore absolutely nothing underneath.
Bethie opened her eyes as Morgan fell upon her, her hands reaching his shoulders, grasping them tightly, her nails clawing around them. Morgan's face tore from breast to breast as he bit harshly. Bethie rolled her hips against him, feeling the stiffness of him above her. Morgan slid his hands roughly over her, his hard knuckles pressing into her tender skin. She had fed this anger, baited him ... and had taken him down a notch. Now she was receiving his anger ... the way she liked.
She moaned loudly as his hands grasped her hips, lifting her up to meet him.
Her nails raked him as she pretended to struggle, her legs flying wide apart. Morgan braced her legs with his elbows and slid slowly up her body, now pinning her arms to the bed. Bethie squirmed softly under his body, her thighs moving softly against his hips as he moved harshly. Her stomach was covered with a tiny beaded sweat. It was fine to be loved like this and to be paid for it, too. She had no doubts that Morgan would come through with a gift if he wanted more. That's the way he would play. Her way.
Bethie twisted her body underneath Morgan, her breasts crushed by his chest like flattened melons. Her hard nipples pierced him as he turned above her, dragging their pointy selves invitingly against his chest. She opened her mouth, licking her lips as she made animal noises deep in her throat. Morgan lowered his head, sinking his tongue in between her lips. Bethie received this wet gift, her own tongue meeting him, darting back and forth over the ridges of his teeth. Bethie withdrew her tongue and let her small, hard teeth clamp slightly on his tongue. Morgan groaned as she released him, his tongue sliding against her lower lip.
Morgan pumped himself up and down as Bethie moved, catching him every time his hips lowered with a sideways grating movement. Bethie was heated now, her body jerking with an excitement that felt like it was almost outside of her. She was eager to finish, eager to feel the final delights of her labor. Morgan came at her again and again, not teasing her this time, unable to play any kind of game. He too was caught up in the fever. They were now like any other animals, straining to mate. Bethie lifted her legs and pushed them fitfully over Morgan's shoulders. Morgan groaned, his hands and fingers pressing deep into her flesh, as he gripped her, holding her tight against his attacks. Bethie delighted in the brutality of his lovemaking.
She tossed her head, her curls flying across her face as her hips jerked in a crazy rhythm time after time.
Bethie tossed her body outward to meet Morgan and suddenly felt her lower parts convulse in a slow building ecstasy. She heard the deep moaning fill the room and was surprised to realize it was herself. Morgan grew more excited as he watched her face, her eyes half-closed as her mouth filled again and again with the sounds.
And then it was over. Morgan released her hips and pulled back, falling heavily next to her. Bethie closed her eyes, savoring the contentment that filled her. Everything was going fine.
"Tomorrow," Morgan whispered into her ear, "I'll look for that little gift."
Bethie smiled to herself. Little had better be a figure of speech!
CHAPTER SIX
The carriage on the electric typewriter slid back easily, the small bell sounding. Bethie looked up long enough to assure herself it was almost quitting time. In ten more minutes there would be a veritable flurry of typewriter covers being placed over the machines in all the little outer cubicles. She twisted her shoulders inside the sleek linen suit. She was dressed to perfection, looking the neat little secretary. It was going well, she told herself. Inside her large purse was a carbon copy, an extra carbon copy, of the transcript of an ideas meeting.
This was the second meeting they had called in the last four days. She was lucky her steno was good. Each time she walked into the inner office, she had her book fixed with two carbon copies. Russ Marino had just about decided on the campaign. It wouldn't take long to earn that five thousand dollars. She felt the slight edge of nerves grate inside her. If only her plans would follow suit. She was safe here in the small, private office. Inside Russ's office were all the files. Everything, but everything, passed into the President's office. Earlier today Russ had argued with Ruth about her working late. Ruth had other plans. She had to dine with a minor client. Bethie had shuffled through a letter file, pretending to be busy, while she had carefully listened.
Ruth was loyal to Russ-was in love with him. It was certainly not a secret that they were engaged two years now. Bethie smiled secretly. Two years was a long time. Bethie finished the letter and snapped it out of the machine, replacing it with a second letterhead. Already she heard the shuffle outside. Young girls preparing to leave their office entrapment. There was a noise inside Russ Marino's office, too. That would be Ruth. Ruth thought it was important to take care of their smaller clients as well as work on the Byron Beer account. But Russ, well, he saw nothing but Byron Beer. It required every ounce of himself, or so he thought.
Bethie knew that Byron Beer was the big break for Russ. It would make him. It would make Bethie, too-if she had it her way.
Ruth walked out, her gloves and bag in hand. She gave Bethie a queer look and glanced at the clock to reassure herself. Bethie saw the look and pretended to concentrate on her work. From the corner of her eye she saw the twill fabric of Ruth's dress pressed against her desk.
"Miss Rainie ... Beth, it's past five. It's time you were on your way home. You've been working hard. We don't want you to kill yourself."
Bethie took her hands from the machine and met Ruth's nervous smile with her own innocent little look.
"Oh, Ruth, I have so much to do yet. I don't want to get behind."
Bethie carefully read the face of the thin, attractive woman. She was worried about leaving her alone with Russ. It was plain. Ruth Amenson wasn't a girl of the world. She was one of those people who had never learned how to hide her true feelings. She stood fingering her gloves, wondering what she could say.
Right on cue, Russ Marino stepped from his private office. Bethie could have laughed out loud. It was as if she was a puppet master and these poor human beings were dangling at the end of her many strings.
"What is it?" he asked gruffly.
"Oh, Russ...." Ruth tried a bright smile on him. "Miss Rainie is working herself to death. I was just telling her to take it easy. She's working overtime."
Bethie watched this panorama innocently, her large blue eyes drinking it all in. Come on, she urged Russ Marino silently. Come on.
"Don't you have any plans for the evening, Miss Rainie?"
"Oh, not really, Mr. Marino. I thought I would stay and finish up these letters. I'd hate to wind up with a backlog."
Russ Marino flashed a gleaming smile at her. His face was almost boyish when he smiled, with a hint of mischief.
"Don't worry about a backlog so soon. If you really aren't doing anything, I could use some help. Miss Amenson has other plans. I would pay you for your time."
"I wouldn't mind at all. I'd be glad to help."
"Fine then." He turned to Ruth, who was glaring at Bethie. Ruth tried to change the hurt look, but was just unable to act. "You can leave now, Ruth. It seems our problems are solved."
"Okay." Ruth gathered up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She tried to catch Russ's eye for a final, secret goodbye, but Russ was not being very attentive. Bethie went back to her typewriter as she listened to the door click.
Things were going well in her favor it seemed. Her simple plan had worked. The second part of her plan would keep Russ Marino from watching her too closely. Bethie felt a thrill run along her stomach. This was what she enjoyed-trapping, feeling the thrill of excitement when her little plans worked out perfectly. She was a manipulator. The sudden flash of her new ring caught her eye. Yes, all her puppets were responding well. Russ Marino had moved back to his office. She heard his voice drift out, calm and authoritative.
"Miss Rainie, when you finish that letter you can come in here. I want you to take some notes."
"All right, Mr. Marino." Bethie typed the signature on the letter and left it in the machine for a moment more, allowing herself to drift in thought. There was something about Ruth Amenson. Everyone had some kind of a fault or problem; it was Bethie's job to find out what it was. When it concerned her. She knew her plan in full and she couldn't take chances. She was going to seduce Russ Marino and she wasn't sure how to go about it. The innocent little girl? Or the woman? One of the two ways, but which one? She knew there was something bad between Russ and Ruth, or he would have married her by now. Bethie knew women well. It must be that Ruth wasn't at all aggressive. She would have to take her chances. She had better pick the right approach, or she could ruin it all!
She pulled the letter from the machine and covered it, walking slowly into Russ Marino's office. No, she told herself. Ruth, although very attractive, did have something mousy about her. A quiet manner. Bethie stood in front of Russ's desk, waiting to be noticed. The man was deep in his work. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to seduce him! She was being foolish. No man could be so wrapped up in his work that he would ignore sweet Bethie, once she put out her hooks.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Miss Rainie. You'll have to excuse me. I get so wrapped up I just forget! Here...." Russ stood and pulled out a chair for her. She was sitting next to him. She wondered about the arrangement.
"Oh, I have to go over some notes and I want to show you exactly how I want it set up. Just hold on for a moment, okay?"
"Of course." So, still business. It was time to begin baiting the trap. The coffee pot sat on its hotplate in one corner. Coffee and sugar was on a little table next to the pot.
"Listen, if you're not quite ready, do you mind if I make some coffee?"
"I'd not only not mind, I would love it!"
Bethie stood, removing her jacket. She had waited for this chance the last couple of days, being always careful to wear a sheer feminine blouse underneath the constraints of the business suit. Now she lay the jacket across the chair top, knowing her full breasts strained against the fabric. He would have to notice she was a woman!
The skirt was tight around her hips, flaring down from the small waist. She walked slowly over to the little table, turning on the hotplate and fixing the coffee, knowing that Russ Marino's eyes were finally taken from his all-consuming work.
"Sugar?" she asked, turning suddenly, her eyes colliding with his. He had been sitting transfixed, his eyes swallowing whole the vision of her. She opened her eyes wide, meeting his stare. She was lucky her face was not like Ruth Amenson's. He could never find her thoughts written boldly on her face. Russ turned his eyes back to his work, muttering that he would take two sugars.
Bethie hummed to herself, knowing that he would never be able to get his attention back to his damned papers. Now he knew she was a well-rounded woman. He would have to compare her with his meager helping of Ruth. Ruth-who took great pains to disguise her small breasts. She poured the instant coffee carefully into two cups and carried them back to the desk.
"Here, Mr. Marino, take a break yourself. You work so hard."
"I have to. Thank you, Miss Rainie." Bethie watched his fine-skinned hand take the cup and hold its steaming contents carefully, his full mouth sinking down to the cup to take in careful, tiny sips. She met his eyes, knowing he was weighing her. She pretended not to notice. She was being compared to Ruth now. He was wondering what it would be like to take her in his arms, feel her fleshy softness against him. He would soon find out. Bethie half-finished her coffee and put the cup on a clear part of the desk. She looked up at Russ, catching him suddenly off guard. Quickly, she lowered her eyes.
"Let's get to work." Russ filled in the moment carefully with his proposal.
He was hooked. Bethie drew her chair closer to his, reading his notes. Russ pointed out certain underlined phrases, telling her what he wanted done. Bethie listened intently, her eyes skimming over the page, while her shoulder touched his own. He was very uneasy. Bethie brought her steno pad up from her lap and made some notes while Russ talked. Now was the time for her accident. Bethie leaned over sharply, pretending to read his notebook, slipping her elbow along the desk as she did. The result of that was that she went flying into Russ's arms.
Her timing was perfect! Russ hadn't time to think, he just caught her, his arms holding her tight, while she pierced him with her wide eyes.
"I ... oh, I'm so sorry!" His eyes were black in his face, blazing with a light she knew only too well.
It was as if time was standing still. Bethie hoped he would not resist now, when things were working out so well. She held her breath, wondering what he would do. He wasn't letting her go. Suddenly he began drawing her closer and closer, until his eyes grew huge in front of her. Bethie opened her mouth and licked her lips in what appeared a nervous gesture.
"I won't hurt you," Russ Marino whispered against the soft, downy surface of her ear.
"I know ... I know. Bethie caught his lips as they moved toward her, taking his bottom lip and pulling on it gently before his mouth crushed down upon hers, demanding. This was it, Bethie told herself. He would be a good lover, she knew. If he was this easy to inflame, Ruth must not be giving him much. She knew now she had been right. Russ was kissing her, twisting her mouth like a man who had been hungering a long, long time.
Suddenly he pulled away from her, standing, one hand pulling at his tie as if he was choking. His face ran through a series of emotions. Bethie stood slowly, wondering what to do. This could very easily be the finish of everything-if she let the situation stand. Russ was probably stricken with guilt. Bethie moved slowly, like a dream figure, easing her way to where Russ stood frozen in his silence. She stopped in front of him, her hands reaching his face. Russ bent his head, his eyes flashing at her.
"Russ, I've been thinking about you since I came here. I can't help myself. Just to kiss you, just...."
Safe, she thought wildly. She was in his arms again. She had won. That male ego just couldn't resist! Now that she had let the tiger out, she was going to give him a run for his money! Russ half dragged her to the couch, where he lay her gently on her back. Bethie lay, letting him undress her, remaining still while he undressed. She didn't want to break the mood. Later, when she had finished with him, he would be left to his guilt, left to facing Ruth.
Bethie remained wide-eyed. Russ's clothes lay scattered across the thick office rug. He stepped closer and Bethie reached out one small hand and took him, pulling him down to her. The look of amazement in his dark eyes told her that Ruth had never afforded him this pleasure. She felt delighted. She had been right. Russ Marino was not used to any act of aggression from Ruth. Okay, she told herself. She would give him good reason to remember her. She tugged, pulling up to him, her tongue flickering over the silken skin of him.
His groan filled the room, his hands working over her body like separate creatures, gorging themselves on her lushness. Bethie threw her head back, her curls tickling her forehead. Russ placed his leg over hers, forcing her knees down. He bent, his hands tangled in her hair. He looked deep into her eyes before taking her mouth. Bethie gasped, feeling the heavy weight of Russ Marino bear down on her. He had a beautiful body, lean and muscular. She ran her hands down his legs, feeling the bristle of stiff hairs. Russ grated his hips against hers, his jutting hip bone cutting into her. Her hand found him and eased him into place, causing his body to jerk with desire. Bethie felt him heave against her, working himself closer and closer. Bethie twisted wildly, determined to show him what a sexy woman was like.
After a while she pushed him gently away and eased her body to the rug, where she lay on her stomach invitingly. She listened to his laugh and laughed with him. He stepped around her and lowered his hard belly against her buttocks. Bethie raised her hips, her knees sliding across the grainy rug as he lunged. She felt her stomach hit the rug hard. Russ Marino, who just a few moments ago was her boss, was now no more than an animal let loose from a confining cage. His body formed a lunatic rhythm above her, which she met with a long learned grace. The soft, plump sound of their meeting rang in her ears. He slid his hands under her rib cage, taking her breasts in either hand, while he continued his attacks.
Bethie felt the heat growing inside her. She was lost in that warm, red vacuum, taken by desire, when she felt Russ easing from her. She waited and turned slowly, aware of how sensual she looked. She turned her body slowly, moaning as Russ stood, pulling her to her feet.
"So long," he muttered. "It's been so long. I can't get enough of you."
Bethie let him lead her to the couch, where he sat with a thump, pulling her up after him, her legs straddling his. She came down hard on him, crying out with pain. Her arms reached around him, tangling in his hair as she moved from side to side in slow, exotic motions, her legs tight around him. Russ was moaning now, pushing her body back and forth faster and faster as he followed the crazy pattern of his desire.
RusS's movements drew her into his rhythm, meeting her excitement, head on. Just before he cried out, Bethie found her stomach churning and the deep slowness rise and escape. Russ gripped her shoulders and she watched his face relax. She moved away from his body and stretched herself on the rug once more.
She was filled with curiosity, now that she was satisfied. As usual, her mind was only business. It was true that she was easy to arouse, but only if she wanted to be for a specific reason, she told herself. Now she was back in that clear-cut world where she measured things. At this moment she was measuring him. She sighed, running one of her small hands through her mass of curls. Russ watched her, lowering himself to her side. He ran his fingers along the ridge of her nose. Tenderness, Bethie thought. It frightened her. She had to let him play with his emotions, though. She opened her eyes wide in innocence.
"I didn't mean for this to happen."
"I'm glad it did," Russ whispered, his lips brushing hers.
"But Ruth. ... I feel so terrible." She turned her head away from him, playing her role to the hilt. If he was not going to think of Ruth, she had to remind him, had to plant the first seeds of guilt.
He drew back from her as if she had struck him. His eyes hardened momentarily. Bethie was afraid that he saw through her. The feeling only lasted for a moment. She kept her face compressed in its tight mask of innocence.
"I wouldn't say anything, Mr. Marino. Please don't fire me."
The tears welled in her eyes. She was indeed a fine actress. Russ pulled her close, comforting her.
"Of course not, Bethie. Don't worry. We'll just forget it. Okay?"
Bethie nodded, biting her lip; looking, she knew, very much the little girl. So, they would just forget it, would they? Fat chance! She buried her head deeper into Russ Marino's shoulder in order to hide an impish grin which she couldn't control. She had done it again. She had planted the seeds of guilt and she had mentioned not losing her job. She was in now. Even if firing her had occurred to him, he couldn't do it now. She might tell, j She sobbed delicately, the drops of moisture dripping onto Russ's skin. Where, she wondered, did those tears come from?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bethie returned from her lunch hour, seating herself carefully at the desk. She was tired. She hadn't realized how much an office job could demand of her. She had to keep jumping, too. Raddon was a busy place. Not only did she have to do all of their work, she had to do her own work as well. She sighed. The inner office was quiet now. Russ Marino and Ruth had left for lunch while she was gone. Of course, Bethie told herself. Russ had gone out of his way to avoid her all day. She had known it would be this way. Wasn't that why she had seduced him? It hadn't taken much seducing though. This morning he was busy pretending that last night had never happened.
The office was empty and now was her chance to look over some notes Russ and Ruth had spent the morning over. Bethie checked the time and decided it would be all right to chance it. She opened the outside door and took a quick look around. It was a long corridor and it was lunch-time empty. Only a few minor secretaries seemed to be back. Bethie shut the door quietly and made her way carefully across Russ's thick carpet. His desk was littered with papers. Bethie sorted them, being careful to replace them in their original disorder. She pulled the tiny camera from the deep pocket of her tweed skirt and held it carefully with her left hand as she moved the papers. The tiny shuffling sounds filled the room.
"Ah!" Bethie clicked the camera once, twice, to make sure she had it.
She took three more shots of what looked like valuable information and quickly returned to her own small reception desk. She exhaled and filled her lungs. Inside her, underneath the soft skin, tiny rats raced in a batde with her nervous system. No sooner had she taken out a letter than the door opened and Russ entered. Ruth followed quietly, nodding to Bethie.
"Miss Amenson?" Russ met Bethie's eyes and quickly moved his own towards the opposite wall. Ruth stood silently, watching Russ pretend he was just acting natural. Bethie watched Ruth's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. She felt as if she was watching a movie where the characters were suddenly moving slow, heightening the drama.
"Were there any messages?" Russ asked, his voice straining slightly.
"No sir. Everything has been quiet."
"Thank you." Russ made his way into his own office and Ruth followed, her brow wrinkled slightly.
Bethie resumed her letter writing. She hoped she could get it together fast. Things wouldn't hold up now. Poor Russ. Ruth had just that tiny moment to build on. It was like taking a seed and planting it, watching it grow. The thing that grew would be an ugly thing. Jealousy and suspicion. Bethie allowed herself one small frown as she suddenly hit the typewriter keys with a furious haste. That was what love did to you. It ate away at your in-sides like acid. It lived inside your gut, slowly eating away. Bethie knew all about that.
She typed the signature on the letter and pulled the paper from the machine. For a moment she rested her head on her hands. It was funny. She could no longer remember the emotion of love. She could only remember the results and all the tiny little pains that led to those results. It was good for her to have that kind of knowledge, she told herself furiously. It kept her from ever getting partially involved. It kept her from feeling pity for a girl like Ruth, too. Her soul contained not one drop of that certain substance.
In her line of work, pity, love, any of these human traits would be disaster. Ruth was stupid. She deserved to suffer about her man. She trusted him; let her pay the price! Bethie lifted her head from her hands and skimmed her notes, preparing to type another letter. She washed all thoughts from her mind except her self-esteem. She had gathered a lot of information during lunch. A lot of it would fit together nicely. The big job would be the art work! Once she had that, she could junk this typewriter. Maybe she would take a cruise somewhere.
"Hello! I see you got the job." Bethie turned her head slightly and took in the slim, elegant presence of Lainie Drew.
Bethie smiled softly, blinking her blue eyes. She had known she would see this woman again. Yes, it was strange. She had given a few moments of thought to the woman since their first meeting.
"I'm really glad you got the job. You see, I want to borrow you!" Lainie moved her hips inside the red dress, permitting Bethie another of her expensive smiles before she burst boldly into the inner office.
Bethie laughed softly. So, she was about to be borrowed. Russ would certainly not refuse Lainie Drew anything. He wanted her account, didn't he? Besides, she was an office neighbor. It was only polite. Morgan must have known all the time that Raddon was on such good terms with Lainie Drew. No wonder he had to veritably steal the account! It would only be logical to give the account to Raddon. Bethie pretended to look over her notes, listening to Lainie Drew's excited voice. Was that a trace of annoyance in Russ's answer?
"If you really need her. Yes, I suppose so."
"Oh, Russ. You're too kind. I'm in a terrible fix! Can you imagine? Two secretaries declaring a holiday! Calling in sick! The little liars!"
A high-pitched laugh followed the words. Bethie smiled. She heard the loud, scraping noise of a chair being pulled back and Lainie Drew moved suggestively from Russ's office, followed by Russ. Russ was over his fit of embarrassment now.
"Miss Rainie? Would you do me a favor? I hope you don't mind. Miss Drew has two secretaries out today and needs someone to take dictation." Russ turned to Lainie. "How long will it be?"
"Oh, easily the rest of the afternoon. You'll have her back tomorrow. Okay?"
"Do you mind, Miss Rainie?" Russ asked.
Bethie met his eyes. "Of course not. Unless, of course, you really need me here."
"I do...." Russ trailed the words. Bethie grasped the secret meaning. "But it's just for the afternoon. We'll get along. I have Ruth."
"Yes." Bethie picked up her pad and pencil and stood ready to follow Lainie Drew. Russ Marino, Bethie knew now, was hooked on her.
She turned from him suddenly and met for a shocking instant Lainie Drew's knowing eyes. Lainie smiled secretively and turned, walking from the office. Bethie followed, not looking back at Russ. Lainie led Bethie down the long Raddon corridors and into the elevator.
"Imagine me, stealing the President's secretary?" Lainie smiled at Bethie.
Bethie returned the phony smile. The woman was playing a game with her. She had deliberately asked Russ for his secretary. Bethie wondered if she had known that Russ Marino had hired her. She watched Lainie impatiently press the elevator button. Her hair was gathered into thick black curls, pulled away from her beautiful forehead. The elevator door opened and they walked out. Bethie opened her eyes wide, taking in the Byron Beer suite. On this floor there was none of the stereotyped office structure. A dark red rug covered the entire reception area. A thin, pretty girl sat at a long white desk, with not even a typewriter on it. She just sat there, hired for her looks, waiting to greet anyone who came to Byron Beer.
"I found one, Evelyn!" Lainie called cheerfully.
The girl smiled in return. Bethie followed Lainie into the first office, amazed at the utter lack of economy. It was wonderful. Lainie pushed the white door and Bethie followed slowly. She was struck with the utter starkness. Red and white. Lainie seemed to like simplicity. Again, the red rug, a half-circle white desk, planted squarely in the center of the room. A smaller version of this desk repeated itself three feet away from the original.
"Sit there." Lainie waved her fingers at the small desk.
Bethie sat down. Almost before she was ready, Lainie started pouring dictation at her. Bethie soon forgot the thrilling office. She knew now why Lainie's secretaries were so absent. Bethie worked hard, feeling some slight resentment for the woman. It wouldn't be so bad if she was able to gather information for her report. None of the work concerned the account, though. Bethie put her annoyance out of her mind and was surprised, sometime later, to see that it was almost six o'clock. Bethie ripped the last letter out of the machine and handed it to Lainie.
"Oh no! After saving my life? I'm going to take you to dinner. Better, we'll go to my apartment first, let you freshen up, unwind a little."
"I really shouldn't," Bethie began.
"Of course you should. I'll get my jacket. Come on now. I insist. I owe it to you."
"All right." Bethie stood, a feeling of excitement building in her. Now what, she wondered. Something told her that Lainie Drew had more on her mind than dinner. Lainie returned with her matching red jacket and marched out the door. The receptionist was gone. Bethie remained quiet, listening to Lainie reel off a gay stream of chatter. The woman was amazing. She could change faces almost as easily as Bethie could. Almost, Bethie told herself. They found Lainie's little sports car waiting for them in front of the building and made their way further uptown into the East seventies. Lainie handed the car over to the impassive doorman and led Bethie into a plush elevator.
"I keep a little apartment in the city. I don't really live here. But it is nice to have a little place to change in, rest in when the day gets rough."
"I suppose it is," Bethie replied, thinking, yes, it must be nice to have a little place ... to bring your girls to. Lainie Drew probably thought Bethie was an idiot. Bethie was curious as to the approach Lainie Drew would use on her. She wondered, too, how many sweet little things had followed Lainie into this luxurious trap, not knowing what was happening.
"This is it." Lainie stepped from the elevator and led Bethie down the hallway. Bethie waited while she unlocked the door. She liked the way the woman moved. She was beginning to feel a touch of genuine desire. The woman had a lot to offer. She was playing the kind of game Bethie liked. The kind of game Bethie had to win. Lainie locked the door behind Bethie and began fixing drinks. Bethie knew what to do. She would lay her cards on the table. After all, her real personality would be safe with Lainie Drew. She had secrets of her own to keep. Bethie watched her stir two martinis.
"You do drink, don't you, Bethie?" Lainie looked up for a moment.
"Yes, Miss Drew. I do drink."
"Good. You look so sweet, I can almost hear you asking for ginger ale." Lainie laughed, returning to the couch with Bethie's drink.
"Can you really?" Bethie met Lainie Drew's eyes. She knew what the woman would see in her eyes. She would see that hidden part of Bethie, the dark wisdom. She would see it because she, Bethie, would permit her to see it. Because, Bethie told herself, you could not handle a fireball of a spoiled woman with sugar. No, Lainie Drew got sugar every day. Bethie would give her lemons, vinegar and harshness.
"Perhaps I was wrong." Lainie Drew seemed a bit shocked at Bethie's sudden self-assurance.
"Why did you bring me here?" Bethie asked suddenly. "Tell me quickly."
"Darling, I want to treat you to dinner." Lainie tried to laugh. , Bethie stood, her drink in her hand. She sat the drink on a table and removed her jacket. Lainie's eyes bulged, suddenly filled with light. Bethie watched the green sparkle of them as she turned to face Lainie.
"I don't want to play games. I know you, Miss Drew. I know you very well. I know you had some hopes of seducing me. I won't be seduced."
Lainie Drew stood suddenly. She was, Bethie knew, unused to such treatment. That was why it would work so well. "Ridiculous!"
"But," Bethie smiled, "I will make love to a woman as beautiful as yourself."
Lainie Drew resumed her seat, a shocked expression on her pretty mouth. Bethie let the last part of her shocking statement sink in, watching curiously as Lainie's features suddenly dissolved into a burst of laughter. Bethie sat down next to her, touching her hand. "Let's freshen up a bit, as you suggested before. As a matter-of-fact, let's take a shower ... together." She almost whispered the last words. Bethie stood and unbuttoned her blouse, excited by the woman's sparkling eyes. The fine, pointed red tongue licked the red lips impatiently. Lainie stood as if in a dream and began undressing.
They stood naked. Bethie narrowed her eyes, watching Lainie stand tall, proud of her exquisite, angular body-softly round, full in the right places. She could have been the model for any number of Grecian sculptures. Bethie moved toward her silently, her movements hushed by the thick rug. She placed her hands on Lainie's hips and drew her close. It had been a long, long time since she had kissed a woman. It was excitingly pleasant to remember, as she softly crushed Lainie's lips, that a woman was much softer than a man. Bethie released Lainie's mouth and watched the woman touch her breasts, pressing her own, smaller versions against them. Bethie inhaled slowly, deeply, enjoying the slow building of the moment. She stepped backward, still resting her fingers sharply against Lainie's jutting hip bone. She pulled Lainie trance-like towards the bathroom. She could see its soft light in the hallway. She didn't want to break the magic spell by asking directions. Everything was perfect.
When they reached the bath, Bethie withdrew her hands, still not speaking, keeping the mood. She turned on the water and fixed the. temperature at lukewarm. She held her hand underneath the fine, needle spray, motioning for Lainie to enter. When Lainie was standing under the water, Bethie followed. At once, Lainie reached for Bethie, grasping her by the shoulders, pressing her tightly to her breasts. Bethie smiled and jerked away. This was her party. She could not let Lainie get the upper hand. Lainie Drew was too used to ruling, to dominating. Not this time, baby, Bethie silently told herself.
Instantly she kneeled, her mouth open against Lainie's wondrous body, leaving a wet trail over Lainie's belly. The hard tub bottom hit her knees. She moved Lainie harshly against the wall, hearing her small sound of discomfort. Bethie ignored this, grasping her by the buttocks, her tongue lashing out, parting the way, as she searched for her. Suddenly, as she found her mark, her hair was filled with Lainie's hands. Bethie opened her mouth wider and bit gently. Lainie's hands grasped handfuls of blonde curls as Bethie nibbled.
Bethie could feel the excitement fill her, wetting her thighs. She let her tongue take over, her nails digging into the soft firmness of Lainie's backside. Lainie twisted, kneeling slightly as her knees buckled. Bethie's tongue lashed back and forth, traveling downward, digging at the soft flesh and then back again. Lainie was sinking to her knees, her hair dripping as the water sprayed her body. In the soft bathroom light she shone like satin. Bethie pulled her down the rest of the way and stretched her body in the long tub. As soon as Lainie was arranged to Bethie's liking, Bethie stretched herself out in the opposite direction.
"Me too," Bethie said softly. "If Lainie wants, Lainie will give."
Bethie watched Lainie's eyes open wide. This was perhaps the first time in her life that anyone had given her an order. Bethie watched her eyes soften and her head darted into place. Bethie smiled. She could get to like this kind of work. Lainie had a lot of things, including money. It was too bad that Bethie was so independent. Bethie pushed the thought from her mind. No, she was a job girl. Being kept, completely kept, wasn't in her line. It was too demanding, too containing.
Bethie lowered her head as Lainie found the right spot. "Ahh!" Bethie sighed, forgetting her thoughts for a while. Lainie was good; very good. Bethie went to work with abandon. It was almost a contest, but Bethie would win. She was used to winning, too. She had to!
The water whipping their desire, the two women intertwined like snakes. Bethie grew frantic, biting, lunging, nudging with her teeth, her tongue. It was a royal battle. Suddenly, from some forgotten place, a culmination began. A slow, rumbling turmoil of a river about to overflow.
Bethie let it fill her and overflow. She was done, and now that she was freed from her own desire, she would win at this subtle game. Bethie moved, lifting Lainie's legs around her neck, burying her head deep. She set to work with grim determination, all teeth and tongue, all claw and animal substance. She heard the beginning of
Lainie's building release come in a soft series of moans and drove herself harder and harder until Lainie screamed with the force. Bethie tore everything from her and still demanded more. Lainie lay still now.
The green eyes were closed; a smile softly tender upon her lips. Bethie smiled broadly. She felt oddly satisfied.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Russ watched Bethie through the opened door. She was shrugging into the new fur jacket she had come to work in this morning. He wondered if she had a man who gave her such things. No, she was so innocent. What was wrong with him? He had made love to her, hadn't he? She didn't make love like an innocent girl. Perhaps it was just a natural talent. A lot of girls were that free, that wild, underneath calm surfaces. Besides, she wouldn't work for a living if she had a man.
Russ bit his lip. He was torn by opposing forces. Another moment and she would be gone. One more minute. She was pulling on her gloves now, covering her typewriter with the ungloved hand. Ruth had called in sick this morning. Oh damn! There was so much to consider. Ruth suspected ... and the thing she suspected was true! Every logical force of his mind said no! Let it go. It happened once, but another time would be disaster. It would be involvement. He was engaged! She was walking to the door now, both gloves on. Let her go! Let her go! Her hand was on the door....
"Miss Rainie!" Damn it! He scolded himself. It was too late. He had spoken too loud. He had stepped a big step in that direction. He watched her turn. There was no surprise on her beautiful face. The big blue pools of her eyes sparkled, but showed no shock at all. She was completely turned around now, was walking towards him, through the door of his office. He was unprepared now. He had trapped himself, thinking of that soft, incredibly giving body. He was being a fool! His thighs burned.
"I was wondering if you had plans for the evening. I have some work. I'll take you to dinner afterward."
She was hesitating. Perhaps she would save them both. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be saved. It was out of his hands.
"All right. I haven't any plans. Nothing important, anyway."
"Fine." The hesitation was over. She removed her jacket. She knew, he told himself, with a touch of anger. Yes, she knew why he wanted her to stay. And she had accepted. A sudden sense of exhilaration filled him. She might be soft, sweet, but she knew and she accepted. Russ sat down, watching her hang the new jacket back up. He cleared his mind of the merry-go-round. His eyes flicked over the jacket, trying to evaluate it. It nagged at him. Was that a tinge of jealousy? How, he asked himself. How did he ever get into this strange trap? One day his life was orderly, with Ruth, his business, his life, exact, orderly.
Now. ... Yes, what now? For a brief moment he felt that he was on the verge of sending her away, but one look at those round breasts pressing themselves against the thin yellow dress and his decision died in his throat.
"Where do we begin?" Bethie asked. He watched her sit down, the dress riding its lovely way up her thighs.
Did she know? Russ wondered to himself. Did she suspect even half of the enchantment her charms carried? Russ thumbed through a pile of papers. This was silly, he told himself sternly. He had always been an honest man. It was hard for him to carry on this game of pretense any further. He didn't really have any extra work right now. The papers dropped from his fingers and he turned his smile on her.
"Bethie, let's leave this for some other time. How about dinner?"
Now she was startled. She had probably expected him to play the game to its end with her. She closed the petal-soft mouth. He resisted the temptation to close it for her. There would be plenty of time for that later.
"I don't know. I thought...." she began.
"I know. I just don't feel like working. I need to relax. Please, Bethie."
"All right, Mr. Marino." Bethie stood while Russ fetched her coat.
"It's funny." Beth spoke softly, but Russ watched her eyes glitter with amusement. "This is the second dinner invitation I've had someone insist I attend. The second in two days." Russ watched her blue eyes curiously.
He helped her put her jacket on, his hands running along her shoulders.
"You don't have to go."
He watched her turn slowly. "Don't be silly. I want to. I just...."
Now, in the two seconds that had passed, she was like a little girl again. He had imagined the harshness of her tone. She was gentle, feminine. He waited for her to speak. "I feel a little guilty. I know about you and Miss Amenson. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone." Her long eyelashes fluttered nervously. Russ stepped closer.
"I just need to be with someone outside of myself and Ruth. I need someone to talk things out with. Beth?" One of her hands rested on her breast. He could see the dim outline underneath the fur, rising and falling gently, yet almost purposefully. What was" wrong with him? He knew she was right. He had almost decided not to carry his plan through. Now that she was beginning to protest a little, it was becoming a contest. She was like a mythological siren, leading him to disaster and he was fighting to get there.
"Okay, Russ. Dinner it is. Perhaps I'm being silly. I know I'm like a little girl somehow. I want to do the right thing."
"Everything's okay. Come on. I'll lock up."
Russ put the keys on the desk while he pulled his jacket on. It was strange somehow. Every time he spoke to her it was as if everything was thrown out of focus. She said the things he felt and yet he argued against them. Perhaps this innocent little girl had a certain kind of magic about her. She certainly was too sweet to be planning it that way. No, it was his guilt. Russ locked the inner door and walked out of Bethie's office. She was waiting outside for him. He looked at her face in the dim corridor. The office was empty. Now that he saw her, her round, gentle features softened, he was convinced it was his own guilt. Well, he was through with guilt for this evening anyway. He was going to make love to this beautiful creature, touch her giving body with his hands, feel her touch him back.
He needed her after the lovemaking of Ruth. He felt ashamed for thinking that. Ruth was coming along. She needed him. She would soften, grow to love his body. She was still new to lovemaking. One more time with Beth and that would be it, he told himself. Yes, that would be it. In the meantime, well, he had that one more time coming.
Bethie smiled in the dimness and walked ahead of him towards the elevator. He watched the well-rounded little backside move itself tantalizingly back and forth.
Downstairs, Russ led Bethie to his car and helped her in. He was feeling better, now that he was away from the office and the ghost of Ruth. If he had to explain it all to her later, then he was going to have something worth his trouble. He started the car and drove carefully to the west side, where his brownstone apartment and a great Mexican restaurant were located. He had to do things in order, although food was secondary to him right now.
Russ found a parking space and eased the car in. Bethie's face was softly aglow in the street light.
"Do you like Mexican food?" he asked, touching her hand softly.
"Yes, I love it." She spoke in soft little rushes of wind. He liked her softness. Even her little voice. Russ leaned forward, wanting to kiss her. No, it wasn't time yet. It was too fast. Too crude. He got out of the car and helped Bethie out, guiding her towards the restaurant front.
The head waiter found them a small, secluded little table, giving Russ a knowing wink. Russ felt his face flush body and ignored the waiter. He had forgotten for a time that he and Ruth came here often. He laughed dryly. It was easy to see that he was new to the game of cheating. He felt slightly drunk with the effect. He was so unused to leaving the norm! Why, it was a good thing for him. Ruth had lassoed him so fast that he hadn't had the time to enjoy being a bachelor. As soon as the business was paying for itself, she had cornered him.
Look how he was thinking. He had to stop thinking like that. It was just a normal night out ... with a different girl of course. He wouldn't worry again tonight. If he had to, tomorrow would do fine. Bethie sat with the candlelight flickering on her while Russ ordered, not taking his eyes from her face. The waiter brought them a before dinner drink and they toasted each other casually.
"Do you come here often?" Bethie sipped her drink as he thought about the question. Her eyes were so incredibly blue, part sky, part lake.
Why had she asked that question? Did she see the head waiter wink?
"Yes, quite a bit. Does it matter?"
"No, I like it here. It's a wonderful little place. It's nice to be here with you. I was just wondering...."
"If I came here with Ruth?" Russ asked too bluntly. Was the girl going out of her way to keep making him feel guilty? No, that was foolish. It was a perfectly natural thing to wonder about, under the circumstances.
"I didn't mean to pry. You have to admit it is strange. I mean, me being here with you."
Russ sighed as he lit a cigarette. "Yes, I suppose so." He blew out the match, still holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "But so what! It's nice to get away from everyday once in a while. I feel adventuresome tonight, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so." Bethie finished her drink, a strange smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
She excited him with the simplest things. Next to her, Ruth was a drab cement statue. This girl was real flesh and blood. A girl who wasn't afraid to play, to experiment with sex, with life! That's better, he told himself. Much better.
The food arrived and Bethie made pleased noises, exclaiming over this and that little tid-bit. Russ felt pleased with himself and gave the waiter a large tip as he paid the check.
"How about my apartment for a little drink? Then I'll take you home."
"Will you?" Bethie asked, her eyes wide with excitement. It was excitement, Russ told himself. Why else would she come, unless she liked him very much? Why else would she have slept with him?
He felt romantic, wild and carefree. Perhaps she had a crush on him. Well, if he was going to marry Ruth and settle down, he needed a wild fling before doing so.
They walked around the corner to the old brownstone. Russ ran lightly up the steps and opened the front door with his key.
"I love brownstones!" Bethie exclaimed.
Russ flew apart suddenly. The few drinks had gone to his head. There she was-all soft, round blondeness, her hair a nest of curls. He remembered suddenly, painfully, what it had been like to make love to her. How her skin had felt; the silken texture of it. Bethie moved slowly past him into the amber hallway. Russ could smell her fragrance, thick and sweet in the musky hallway. He unlocked the door to his apartment and pulled her gently after him. His thoughts were still filled and feeding upon her smell, like a certain species of vampire. She belonged in an elegant building like this. He could almost see her in a frail little dress, lace dripping like dew from the cleavage of that molded bosom. The amber light from the hallway shone through the silk shade on the glass door. His apartment was dark. He was so immersed in his fantasy he hadn't lit any lights. He reached for the switch and changed his mind, suddenly pulling her to him.
"Bethie! Oh, Bethie." He buried his head in her hair, his nostrils filling themselves with her perfume and sweet female smells. "All week, all week long I've walked past you, calling you Miss Rainie, desiring you."
"Yes? Yes, Russ. I know," she answered, in soft, sincere tones.
What was wrong with him? Was he falling in love again? Didn't he really love Ruth? Was the physical that strong to do this to him? The questions dissolved inside his brain as she moved through the darkness, her thighs touching his lightly, then withdrawing. Oh, whatever sweet angel covered her skeleton, inside she was an expert on torture. An expert indeed! Touch and go was it. He reached for her to find her gone into the darkness.
"Bethie?" He called softly, feeling the liquor whirl in his brain.
"Here, Russ. Come to me...." Where was she now?
He didn't want to break the spell, but he didn't want to play hide and seek, either. He could always reclaim the spell, in his own way. His hand reached for the light switch and was covered by her own hand.
"What?" Russ asked, and his mouth was covered and sucked upon by Bethie's. Her mouth left his, but he held her underneath her arms, the bottom of her breasts pressing heavily on top of his hands.
"Oh? Can you see in the dark, too?" he asked, keeping his voice light.
"Russ!" Her voice chided him lightly. "I have blue eyes, which are hurt easily by light. I can see a little ... just outlines in the dark...."
Her kiss filled his mouth again, this time with her delicate tongue, seeking his inner pinkness. For a moment he had let the alcohol think. She had been a witch for a moment. He had sensed something chilling about her. He liked her better as a mere sweet girl. She was! He lifted her easily from the ground and carried her through the darkness, judging the distance of the couch. He felt it suddenly up against his knee.
"Ouch!" He dropped Bethie gently to the couch.
"Ummm." The sound drifted up to him. He could see a little better now. She was undressing. Slowly. Pulling the dress over her shoulders while she twisted her body gently. Russ removed his clothes and sat on the arm of the couch while she took off the rest of her Underthings, watching like a hungry man. All this was insane somehow, but thrilling at the same time.
She removed her bra last, lifting it from her body gently and dropping it lazily to the floor. Her breasts swung free. He felt as if he was glued to the spot. He couldn't make a move. She lay on her back, writhing softly against the backdrop of darkness, her body glowing softly white, like a polished pearl.
"Come here." She whispered, dragging the words out like autumn leaves.
It was her spell and he moved, trance-like towards her, kneeling beside the couch. She took his head between her hands and aimed it towards her belly. It was almost an order, but one he didn't mind at all. He flicked his tongue, seeking the spot, her hands guiding him. He found it and administered the needed excitement. Her belly moved against his hair as she moved, moaning softly in the darkness. He couldn't wait any longer. He rose slightly, pressing his knees against the couch, feeling her hands close around him in the darkness.
"Yes." He let the word leap into the darkness. The warmth from her hand seemed to be burning him. He was on fire. Now both her hands, changing places! Oh damn! He couldn't stand it. He was going to burst into a thousand pieces. He fell upon her while she breathed quickly in and out. His mouth forced hers open and he inserted his tongue, while her hot hands searched, pushing him to the place. Oh yes, yes, yes, his mind ran on a free-falling ticker tape. She was so ready for him.
I must be mad, he thought. Then his mind had no time or place to think in, because it was all filled with her. She was mad, twisting, rolling under him, her mouth sucking at his chest, her teeth tugging at the stiff hairs there. Everything she did was right, was perfect. Her soft thighs crushed themselves against him and her calves drew circles in the air. She moved against him and away from him, taking, giving. His hands grew hard upon her, clutching her thick, musky breasts as if they would save his life if he should fall.
He beat her with his body, again and again, pouncing upon her like a wild beast, and yet she was already there, always ready, like a huge pink flower. Her hands twisted in his hair, kneading him, driving him insane as he rolled upon her body.
It was even better than the last time. It was like a banquet, where one feasted upon treat after treat.
"Wait a minute." Her voice cut through the spell for a moment. "Here, sit up." He followed her instructions. After all, she seemed to know a lot about the present form of recreation. They slowly moved their bodies until he was sitting, she on his lap. Now she began to roll her hips, pushing herself up, coming down suddenly upon him.
Suddenly the phone rang harshly into the darkness. It lay on a table right next to the couch. He tried to ignore it, but again and again it went on, with no signs of stopping.
"Answer it and get rid of whoever it is," Bethie whispered, still rolling her hips, raising her buttocks up and slowly, agonizingly down.
He shook his head and finally lifted the receiver, knowing his face was twisted with desire.
"Yes...? " he exhaled heavily.
"Russ, it's me, Ruth. I have to talk to you. Please come over now."
"Ruth, I can't. Tomorrow."
"Russ, what is it? Please, darling. I must talk to you. Can I come there?"
He couldn't go through this now. Bethie was driving him crazy, not stopping for the call, not for anything! He couldn't.
"Ruth, tomorrow. Goodbye." He hung up suddenly, determined not to think of the telephone call until after. He pulled Bethie closer, feeling her full, rich breasts ride with her movement.
CHAPTER NINE
Ruth lay in the comfortable curve of the over-sized couch, her eyes ready to overflow at any moment. It had been like this for two days now, but today was decidedly worse. She had stayed home yesterday to test Russ, to see if he would come to her apartment, worried, concerned....
"Sure!" She tried to force a laugh, but it stuck in her throat, bringing, instead, that choking sensation. "No more crying!" Her quivering voice became suddenly stern. Ruth stood up, determined to keep busy. She would involve herself in something, pretend to herself that nothing was the matter.
What a farce, she thought. It wouldn't work. Halfway to the kitchen, she stopped in the bright yellow hallway and leaned against the sunny wallpaper. It wouldn't work. She loved Russ too much. She had waited yesterday, waited for him to call and comfort her. Then the evening had advanced. For a while she had presumed that he was working late at the office, that he had become so engrossed in his work that he had simply forgotten. Then the phone call to his house....
"Why? Why?" Ruth moaned softly. Perhaps it was just a bad mood. No, Russ wouldn't act like that unless....
Oh, it was driving her crazy. Deep inside she knew what it was. Of course she did. It was that girl! That little, rounded paragon of adorability! Sure. It was Bethie, all right. Ruth moved towards the kitchen again, trying to shift her thoughts towards dinner. She had to eat! She entered the kitchen and sat heavily at the little round table, staring dream-like at the empty opposite chair. Was it all over now? Would Russ speak to her about it, while she waited, her stomach sick, slowly turning over as she guessed the reasons. Beth! The name entered her mind like deadly poison, dripping its soft sounds.
She heard a noise and looked down at her fingers, where they drummed on the table in a steady staccato. Nerves! Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She had never really been with a man before Russ. Her childhood had been a safe, sheltered, uneventful ramble. This was her first apartment by herself, her first man. The tears could no longer be restrained. She felt small, helpless. She glanced up at the kitchen clock and saw it waver through her tears. With a closed fist she wiped her eyes and looked again. It was eight o'clock, and still no word from him.
If I have a chance, she silently promised, I will forgive him. I'm hurt, but it happens sometimes. If he did sleep with that girl, I'll forgive him. I'll pretend that I'm that understanding. Oh, it would be hard, she knew. The hardest thing that she could ever do. But she loved him. But ... there it was, the real fear! The big but: that he might be in love with this girl. She might do things for him that Ruth never did. There it was, the real, ugly monster of a thought.
Buzzzzzzt! Ruth jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Clutching at the front of her terry-cloth robe, she ran the length of the hall and pressed the buzzer. It was Russ. Quickly, the sudden excitement drained from her body and she leaned against the wall. For a moment she had forgotten all the little fears, had forgotten that anything was wrong at all. The excitement gave way to fear, her stomach whirled and lumped her throat with its nervous agitation. She unlocked the door and returned to the couch, where she sat with hands clasped in her lap. Calm, calm, she whispered. It might be all right. She watched the door open slowly, horror movie fashion, and Russ ease his tall, wiry frame into the room.
"Ruth." He spoke softly and bit his lip.
If it had been anything else, Ruth would have smiled at the little nervous habit she knew so well. Not now though; now was ugly.
"Sit down, Russ." She stood quickly, eager to please him in any way, so he would remember everything they had been to each other. She wanted to remind him of the ways she could please him. Remind him of what a good wife she would be.
"I'll fix you a drink."
"No, no drink." Russ sounded tired.
"Coffee, a little bit of cake?"
"Ruth! Sit down! Stop fluttering around." She met his eyes and compressed her lips. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, Ruth." Russ shook his head from side to side slowly. "But you know as well as I that we have to talk."
"All right, Russ." Ruth sat down and closed her eyes for a moment. She viewed the swirling darkness and found it was easier to speak with her eyes closed. "It's about her, isn't it? Beth Rainie."
"I won't lie to you, Ruth. Yes, it's about her."
The blackness crashed against Ruth's eyelids and recoiled. Even in the darkness there was no escape. She opened her eyes and looked away from Russ.
"Last night ... when I, when I called. You were with her?"
"Yes."
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Ruth hated herself for not keeping the calm she had pulled over her. Thick, wet tears drained from her eyes. She kept her head averted.
"Look at me, Ruth. I'm sorry. It just happened!"
"Just happened?" Ruth turned her head, feeling hatred build inside of her. "How many times did it just happen?"
"For Heaven's sake, Ruth...."
"How many?"
"Okay, okay. Twice." Russ looked mournfully at his shoes.
"Just happened ... twice. I see." It was Russ's turn to be angry. "You don't see anything at all!"
"Why!" Ruth stood, hysteria gripping her, as she backed away from the couch, bumping into chairs. She stood in the middle of the room like a frightened child, her fists clenched against her cheeks.
"Russ, why? What didn't I give you? What is it? Tell me, please. I'll give it to you. I promise."
She saw Russ stand and walk slowly towards her. "Poor Ruth. Please. It's not your fault." His arms went softly around her, holding her in a brotherly embrace.
"Russ...." The question was choking her, stuck hopelessly in her mouth, like a fat canary. She had to ask it. "Do you love her?"
The arms pulled back, suddenly leaving her in a vast sea of loneliness. She felt cold without his arms around her, but she knew it wasn't the warmth of his arms she missed. The cold was from the reason he had dropped his arms.
"Yes, you do, don't you?" Ruth twisted her head. "Damn! Tell me!"
"Ruth, I love you. I know I love you. Yet...."
"Tell me!" The scream left her empty. She stood with every muscle in her body tense, waiting for the hatchet to fall. She twisted her hands together, her fingers playing with the ring he had given her.
"I don't know. I'm not sure. It's almost as if she had me in a spell. Ruth!" His face was pleading with her for something. She was cold now, though; as if she had been turned upside down and all the love and emotion had been shaken out of her. Whatever he wanted, she no longer had.
The ring slipped off easily in her hand. When she looked down and saw what she was holding, the new, dry feeling left her and all the pain flooded back in. Before she could think, she shoved the ring towards him.
"Here!" She turned, walking back into the bedroom. Perhaps he would follow her. Perhaps he would make love to her. Oh lord, if he did she would loosen up, she would touch him-the way that Beth probably did. Now that the thought had struck her, she wondered why she had never touched him in those places where he wanted her to. If she had the chance, she would. She wanted to now. She longed to kiss him all over. "Oh, please follow me. Tell me it's all a bad dream," she prayed silently. "I'll show you how I can be. Please!" She sat upon the bed, waiting, the tears flowing still.
"Ruth?" Russ entered the bedroom and stood for a moment. She met his eyes, hoping he would read the words she was too choked to say.
His shoulders heaved and he turned. She watched him walk down the hall, her heart pounding furiously inside of her thin chest.
"Russ!" She watched her voice stop him. He turned and stood waiting.
It was too far gone now. She had some pride, after all. Twice he had made love to Beth Rainie. Twice!
"Yes?" His voice was a stone now, laying heavy upon her.
"I just ... I'll pick up my things tomorrow."
"All right, Ruth, if that's the way you want it." In a moment she heard the door close.
The way I want it? Ruth wondered. Oh, Russ, the way I want it! She lay on the bed heavily. Why did she give him the ring? She shouldn't have done that. She should have remained calm, waited. She should have waited the whole thing out. She closed her eyes and lay still, wanting the blackness to close around her. Gratefully, it did. Sleep was escape and she slept.
Harsh sunlight filled the room. Ruth sat up suddenly and glanced around the unreal room. A dream? She lifted her hand and rubbed her forehead and slowly brought the hand down and stared at the ghostly white ring spot. A dream it was not. She stood, stretching, her eyes wandering around the room as she recalled all the details of the evening past. It was easier to handle in the daytime, once she had fixed her mind to it. It hurt. There was no denying that it hurt, because it lived in her stomach like an ache, a vast empty ache.
Well, if nothing happened to save her, she would have to learn to live with it. The words seemed unreal, even in her mind. She glanced at the clock. She would have to go to the office and clear out her things. The thought made her feel nauseous. If she hurried, she could get there during Beth Rainie's lunch hour. That was one person she didn't want to face. Perhaps Russ would be there. Perhaps he would ask her if she would. ... What? she demanded harshly of herself. Pretend it never happened?
She would have to stop being a little girl. She took a quick shower and dressed rapidly. Before she left the apartment she checked the clock again. Yes, Beth Rainie was probably on her way to lunch now. Ruth would slip in and get her things-and see Russ.
She caught a cab to save time. She didn't want to bump into Beth Rainie under any circumstances. The cab pulled up in front of the building and she paid the driver, glancing around for some sign of her enemy. The street was swarming with secretaries on their lunch hour.
Ruth hurried into the building, grabbing an elevator. She breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she had imagined meeting Beth Rainie on the street. The elevator stopped and Ruth rushed through the nearly empty corridor, jerking open the door to Russ's offices.
"Oh! Hello!" Beth Rainie stood over her desk, looking at a strip of tiny negatives. She watched as the girl rolled them up and stuck them in her purse.
"Hello." Ruth walked into the room, closing the door behind her. Her embarrassment disappeared momentarily, replaced by a sudden overwhelming curiosity. "What was that?" Ruth asked, moving closer to the girl's desk.
"What?" The sweet little face, upturned nose and all, gleamed at Ruth, declaring its innocence.
"The film!" Ruth blurted the words out. Was that a glimmer of nervousness she read in those clear blue eyes?
"Oh, that!" Bethie shrugged, her smile a bright slash of pink. "My little nephew. I bought him a camera."
"Very tiny film," Ruth murmured. "I've never seen such small film."
"Oh, it's a tiny camera, you know. One of those inexpensive Japanese makes. I told him I would get the film developed for him."
"Oh?" Ruth stood still. Was her own muddled mind trying to play tricks on her? Was that it? Still, there had been one spy at Raddon. Why not two? , "Oh! Mr. Marino left an envelope for you. Here."
Ruth took the envelope and placed it in her purse, the sudden embarrassment flooding her. Beth smiled innocently. Ruth resisted the temptation to smack her across that pretty pink mouth. She walked past the girl into Russ's office, slamming the door behind her. She walked to her desk and began clearing out her things. From the supply closet she took a sheaf of large yellow envelopes. She stuffed three envelopes with her private possessions and sat down behind her desk, looking at the pile. So this was it. Outside, her rival sat primly. The girl was so sure of herself, so calm. Ruth stood, her hands on the envelopes. She should just pick them up and leave. Russ, it seemed, had made it a point not to be there when she arrived. He had known she would come when she thought Bethie was at lunch. Well, it was a great day. She curled her arms around the envelopes and picked them up, walking slowly to the door. No, there was something nagging her!
It was that damn camera! Beth Rainie was the kind of girl, or at least looked like the kind of a girl, who would be as embarrassed as Ruth was in this kind of a situation.
She had always, at least as long as she had been at Raddon, pretended shyness, sweetness. It was all too pat! All too ... yes, practiced. Ruth returned to her desk and deposited the envelopes. She walked over to Russ's desk and looked through the papers which lay in their usual confusion. What was this? Ruth removed her gloves and lay them on top of the desk. The art layouts! The Byron Beer campaign proposals. She thumbed through the envelopes.
The telephone lay invitingly at hand. She picked it up and waited for the switchboard operator.
"Sally? This is Ruth Amenson. Would you connect me to die art department, please? Thank you."
Ruth waited, tapping her foot on the carpet. If she was right, the art layouts on Russ's desk were not complete.
"Hello? Harry? This is Ruth. I see you have the layouts done. I'm looking at them now. Are they complete? No? I see. Well, as soon as you have the rest of them, could you rush them to Mr. Marino's office? Listen, give them directly to him. Not to anyone else. They must be placed in his hands. Yes, that's right. Thanks, Harry."
Ruth hung up the phone. Now what? she asked herself. If her hunch was right, everything would be okay. Russ had told her he loved her. Once the threat was removed, why his love would resume. She would get her chance to show him. She would become a great lover. The layouts would arrive by the time Russ returned from lunch. She had to talk to him. Not from here though. It would be hard to see him; harder yet to explain what was in her mind. But she would. She gathered up her envelopes and marched out of the office, directly past Beth Rainie, without a word of goodbye.
When she got downstairs, she walked directly to the little cocktail lounge where she and Russ often had lunch. A quick look told her he was not there. That was just as well. He had to receive those layouts first. She ordered a drink and waited.
After her second drink, she walked to the pay phone and asked the switchboard operator to put her directly through to Russ. The switchboard operator told her she had to give her to Mr. Marino's secretary. Ruth sighed with impatience.
"Sally? It's Ruth Amenson. It's important I go directly through."
It was all right. Sally apologized and Ruth could hear the angry buzzing.
"Hello?" Russ's voice caused her voice to quiver.
"Russ? Listen, this is very important. Did Harry send up the rest of the layouts yet?"
"No ... Ruth what is it?"
"Listen, Russ. This has nothing to do with us, just with you. It's very important that you do as I say. Just trust me. One more time. Your business is at stake! Okay?"
"Go ahead, Ruth." His voice sounded tired. Ruth pushed the thought out of her mind.
"Okay. Harry is going to send the rest of the layouts up at any minute. I'm in Jakes'. When the layouts get there, make a big fuss about them, so Miss Rainie can hear. Leave them in the envelope on the desk and meet me here. Tell her that you'll be gone for about two hours. That you have to see an important client. Okay?"
"Ruth! What is this about? I don't think...."
"Russ. Trust me one more time, will you? I'll stay out of your life after this." Russ started to protest, but she cut him off.
"I'm hanging up now, Russ. Please do exactly as I say. Please."
"I don't know what you're up to, but...."
Ruth hung up and made her way back to her table. She ordered another drink and sipped it slowly, her fingers drumming on the envelopes. She prayed that she was not making a mistake. This would do it for her if she was. What was she thinking? It couldn't be any worse! Russ probably would think it was jealousy that was prompting her into such harsh action, wanting him to think that sweet Bethie was a spy. Perhaps it was. She hoped that he would follow instructions. If he didn't ... well, that would be that.
She nervously opened her pocketbook and lifted her cigarette pack out. The frosty glare of the white envelope mocked her. She lifted it out. It was, she knew, her severance pay ... or guilt money. It was lumpy. She tested it with her forefinger. Hard. Excitement built in her. She tore the envelope open with her nail. The ring glittered in the bottom corner. Around it had been wrapped a slip of paper. It said simply, in large print, a fool loves you.
Ruth choked back the tears and gulped back the sounds. Oh, she couldn't be wrong now. She bet Miss Rainie didn't know about this! If she was wrong, she would lose Russ's respect. That couldn't happen now, when she had him back. It couldn't.
CHAPTER TEN
Click ... click ... click. The tiny sounds filled the air, like small wings. She turned the heavy photographs over. Ten more and she would be done. This whole thing was getting on her nerves. So many unexpected things had happened. Last night was the lulu. She certainly hadn't expected Russ to act like that. She had never misjudged before. She had assumed that his guilt about the first time would keep him at bay. He did love Ruth.
Click. Yes, slow and easy. The photos had to be perfect. This was the end. She could suddenly become ill, call in and tell a lie about her mother who was dying, anything, to get her away from this crazy house and avoid any kind of suspicion. She would take a vacation. Click. She hadn't wanted Russ to get so involved with her. Then there was Ruth walking in like that. It wasn't like her at all to get caught with anything. Click.
Well, it was all over with now. She was almost done. A woman in love could complicate things. That's all it was. Ruth knew. Perhaps that idiot Russ had told her. He was an honest man and Lord save her from honest men. Click. She felt the prickly sensation of fear and hurried through the rest of the photographs. She wasn't used to dealing with people in love, or honest men. She was sick of the emotions that ran through this damned place. She held her camera in her left hand. Lainie Drew had called, inviting her to dine with her that evening. That was the only good thing about this place. Lainie, her money and....
"Bethie?" She whirled around at the soft whisper of her name. Oh no! She stood still, watching the hatred on Russ Marino's face, the smug look on Ruth Amenson's. A woman in love, Bethie thought, and bolted for the door before either of them knew what was happening. She found luck with her and raced into an open elevator. Were they going to follow her, run after her like a game of cops and robbers? She hoped not. Luckily she hadn't worn the new jacket Lainie had bought her. It would still be hanging upstairs now. She clutched the purse near her, stuffing the camera into it. She must have looked wild to the little office people, dashing down the corridor like a lunatic. She smiled, stepping off the elevator and walking rapidly to the door. It wouldn't do to run out to the street. There might be policemen around. She would get lost in the crowd.
"Taxi!" Further luck. She climbed in and leaned back. As the cab pulled away she mumbled her address, searching the front of the office building for some sign of danger. Nothing. Bethie heaved a faint sigh of relief. She reached in her pocketbook and withdrew her hand, clutching a cigarette. Borrowing a light from the driver, she relaxed again. Let's see, she tapped her fingers, counting. No one there had my home address. I have Lainie's telephone number at the apartment. I'm safe. I must keep a clear head if I'm to make out on this deal. I can still pull it off. I'll call Lainie and cancel the dinner date. I need time to think. Time. Yes.
She paid the driver and headed towards the elevator. On the way up, she found herself punching the buttons impatiently. Nerves. Yes, she was upset. She hated this feeling. She had botched the job with her set of nerves. It was Russ leaving the office so suddenly after receiving the rest of the layouts. It must have been Ruth, she suddenly realized. Ruth had ruined the whole thing! Bethie smiled grimly as she stepped out of the elevator. Hell hath no fury, she told herself. She should have resisted the bait. Now that she could go back over the details, she saw where she had gone wrong. The trap was baited and she, Bethie the clever, Bethie the cool one, had walked right into it like any other stupid animal. She cursed herself. The key turned in the lock and she walked in, dropping her dress jacket over a chair. She made her way to the bar and quickly poured a straight shot of gin. She needed something strong to bite her tongue, to jog her awake. She returned to the couch and sat, crossing her legs underneath her as she sipped the gin, making a face as it exploded on her tongue. Insanity! With her free hand she punched her knee in a sudden bout of emotion, wanting to punish herself. She hated failure! Detested it! Loathed it!
She thought suddenly of Duke. It would be a blow for him, too. Walked right into the trap, she thought angrily. It was so clear. She felt baited, even when Russ left. She felt as if it was a set up. But then, even if it was a trap, what else could she do? She needed those pictures. Trap or not, it might be her last chance to get them. It was her last chance. What would have happened if I had waited? she wondered to herself, as she finished the gin.
"Spilt milk!" she said out loud. "Damn spilt milk!"
If she hadn't been caught, they would still remain suspicious of her. If she hadn't taken the photographs when she did...."Damn!"
The sharp ring of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. Bethie snatched the receiver off the hook in her anger.
"Hello, Bethie. Morgan. Are you going to be home tonight?"
"Yes." Bethie let her voice be cold. "Good. I'll see you in a while then."
"All right, Morgan." Bethie lay the receiver down, leaving it off the hook.
Morgan was the last person she wanted to see right now. Luckily her quick mind zoomed ahead of her callous emotions. Having Morgan angry with her now certainly would not help matters any. Not at all. On the other hand, what the hell should she do? Dinner with Lainie was out! She had to think this over. She stood up and pulled the dress from her hips, lifting it over her plump breasts, over her head. She carried it into the bedroom and hung it up carefully. She then marched into the bathroom and ran a tub full of bubble bath. She needed to relax and think.
She returned to the bedroom and located a sheer, shortie nightgown, which she laid out on the silver laundry hamper. Her mind was becoming the chilling masterpiece once more. She tested the water with her toe and went to the living room. She phoned the doorman and told him to let a Mr. Reed in when he arrived. Then she unlocked the door to her apartment before she climbed into the warm tub.
She had it now. She would not say anything tonight. She would make love to Morgan, give him a damn good time of it, then tomorrow she would arrange a meeting at Conroy's office. She would produce the goods, try and collect her money before anyone got the wiser. If she did that, she knew it would be the end for Conroy. Duke had always leveled with her. He was the only man she had any kind of a friendship with. Well, if she could get away with it, she would. She could always get another job. After all, she had made Conroy a lot of money.
On the other hand, if she was caught, if somehow they found out-well, then she was a cool lady. She would admit it. One of those things. Duke would understand. It happened to everybody. It would affect her status, though. Well, tomorrow the wind would blow, one way or another. She would work around it, and still come out on top. She couldn't deny the terrible sensation that she got whenever she thought of how she had walked into the trap. But she was a logical girl, a very logical girl. Very practical, too.
The doorbell rang and Bethie adjusted her smile. She had to seem natural to Morgan or else he would guess something. She had to be extra good to him, because if he found out somehow, he might still pay her. Money was still foremost in her mind. "Come in. I'm in the tub."
"Ah!" His light masculine step sounded through the hallway. She heard him turn the corner and there he stood. She caught him in the beam of her two blue eyes and held him there.
"Hi." She lifted her hand, dripping with water, and gave him a little wave. His eyes went to her half-bubbled breasts, floating in the water like two pink pontoons. "Sit down, I'll be another minute."
"How did it go today?" Morgan asked, removing his jacket and hanging it on a hook. He reached for a wash cloth and began rubbing her back with it, dipping it into the lather.
"Great. One more day and I'll have it. Tomorrow. I'll call Duke and have you meet us at his office."
"Tomorrow, eh? Wonderful. You're everything you advertise."
"Ummm." Bethie leaned her head back as Morgan rubbed her back. She wished he would get away from business. It wouldn't help her any when tomorrow rolled around to get caught in lies! She shook her head as the washcloth sank with his hand below the surface of the water, winding its way under her breasts. Bethie stood up, lather sliding from her body. Morgan smiled when she looked at him, asking for a towel.
"I have something for you." He grinned, his green eyes flashing. They reminded Bethie of Lainie's eyes. She would much rather be spending the evening with Lainie, who was more of a challenge to her. She pushed that thought from her mind and opened her mouth, forming the sign of sweet surprise.
"A gift? Let me see." f, "No," Morgan took her hand and urged her from the tub. "Afterwards. Pay as you go."
Bethie stood on the bathroom rug, wanting to slap him for that remark, but bound to her knowledge. She had to pretend that she hadn't heard.
"Let me dry you off." Morgan reached for the dark blue oversized towel and put it gently on her shoulders. A touch of tenderness, Bethie thought ruefully. That was why he lashed out at her with his remarks. Morgan Reed was falling in love with her. The thought annoyed her. A man in love was harder to handle than a man who just wanted the occasional use of her body. Love, she thought, as Morgan patted the towel over her body. There was too much of the damned stuff in her life.
Didn't they all know what a farce it was? Money was the important thing. Money, position-those things. Money did everything, filled every empty space, bought position, clothes. Love! The thought made her retch.
"Come lay on the bed. I'll dry the rest of you."
"All right, Morgan." Bethie left the thoughts behind and let Morgan lead her to the bedroom. Bethie stretched out on the bed, lifting one of her knees.
"Bethie, so beautiful." Morgan ran his hands down her sleek sides, his fingers trailing over on the underside of her thighs, causing her to draw her legs together. Bethie placed her hands behind her head and moved her thighs as they responded to the caress. Morgan bent his head over her and let his tongue touch and dampen the round white surface of her body.
"Feels good," Bethie murmured, moving her thighs further apart to excite him.
Bethie sat up, reaching for his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, her fingers slipping against his skin as she did so.
"You feel good. But then you always feel good. Don't you, Bethie? Have you seen Lainie Drew again?" he asked sarcastically.
Bethie was sorry she had ever told him about her brief evening with Lainie Drew. At the time, she had just wanted to shock him and hadn't realized how fond he was of her. Now the thought ate away at him.
"I don't want to talk, Morgan. I just want to make love with you, be near you."
"All right, Bethie. You know I can't resist you. I can't resist you at all."
Morgan pulled his arms back and let her remove the shirt. He unzipped his trousers and let them drop to the floor, stepping around them. Bethie watched him finish undressing and smiled, turning over on her side. She crooked her little finger and gestured for him to come to her. Morgan gave her a wry smile, telling her he knew that although she was pretending it was a game, he was her pawn. Bethie read this bit of news and contained a wry smile. How much control would she exert over him once he found out? She corrected herself. If. It was if he found out.
Morgan turned her over on her back and shut off the table light. The room closed in the darkness. Bethie's hands went to his back and ran up and down like white spiders. She felt the hard curve of his buttocks, the muscles tense under her hands. If there was one thing she knew, it was sex. She knew every little trick and what kind of man liked what special talent. She smiled in the darkness, knowing her little expressions were safe from Morgan's knowing green eyes. There were two pair of green eyes in her life. Once, long ago, there was someone else with green eyes. Her hands tightened on Morgan's backside, the fingernails sharply biting into the flesh. Morgan cried out and Bethie softened her touch. Memory had done that. She crossed it out of her mind with a big X.
To work now, she told herself. This was important to her plans. She raised her hips, meeting Morgan's stomach, and slid her hands around his waist, working her way down to his belly and below. Her thighs were opened wide. She could feel the pulsing deep within her, the wanting. If this was work, it was work she liked. Who ever wanted her paid, but she won a double deal. She liked gifts and sex! Her hips began a slow, maddening thrust, trying to capture Morgan as his hot flesh passed over her belly.
Bethie touched him between her two long hands and rubbed him up and down, smiling to herself as she felt the sudden response. She would love him good tonight. Morgan's hands reached for and captured her breasts, pushing them together in a sudden fit of anxiety. She rolled her hips, rising so her flesh would tingle as it rubbed past him. Morgan tried to lower himself suddenly, but she moved, laughing in the darkness.
Her breasts ached where he pressed them ever tighter. It was time. She tightened her hands around him and led him.
"Oh!" Morgan cried out, swooping down and biting her nipple hard. Bethie cried out, too. She tried to toss, but was captured like a butterfly pinned to cardboard. Bethie moaned against the pillow, pressing her thighs around his hips. His hands grabbed her hips, forcing underneath. He raised her up, holding her in mid-air while he hammered down time and time again. Bethie received this harsh pleasure with cries, her hips twisting in mid-air, trying to regain control.
But Morgan was in control now. She had to be the one....
"Uhh!" With a twist, she was free, her backside dropping with a bounce to the bed. Morgan fell with her, his hipbones jutting into her. Bethie quickly wrapped her legs around his neck, supporting herself on her elbows as her body snapped back and forth. Morgan let her go, lost in the sensation. Bethie moved like this until his face showed signs of release, his muscles stiffened. She pulled away from him abruptly and leaped lightly from the bed.
"Here, come here!" she called impatiently, while he fumbled and cursed her.
Bethie stood tight against the wall, her legs out-spread. Morgan found her outline in the darkness and clutched her harshly to him, still cursing. Bethie whispered into his ear, "Lift me."
Morgan's hands bit into her shoulders as he lifted her. She fit him to her again and quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and moved like oil, flattening her breasts against his chest. Morgan's breath filled her hair like rapid gusts of wind. His body pumped mercilessly against her own while she met each movement with an exactness. Suddenly she met him faster and faster, hearing the sounds like far away noises. Morgan moved quicker in order to keep the rhythm. His hands were filled with her backside. Bethie felt him clutch at the soft flesh each time she moved.
"Yes," she breathed, feeling her desire build like a tower. "Now, Morgan! Now!"
Bethie moved crazily, teasing him, rubbing every possible inch of her body against his own throbbing flesh. She tangled her fingers in his hair and clawed his back, her voice making noises like a female cat as she urged him to join her. Morgan was wild. He sank to the floor with her, pushing her down as his body engulfed hers. Her legs flew in the air, her hips forming wild circles as she moved to an unknown rhythm.
"Oh, Bethie ... Bethie." The drawn-out noise issued from his mouth like a streamer and Bethie joined in the noises as her own body met its fulfillment with a sudden burst.
She lay still, trying to get her breath under control. Finally Morgan pulled himself away from her and yanked her to her feet. He lifted her, carrying her to the bed.
He dropped her and she relaxed, letting herself bounce slightly. Morgan turned the light on and disappeared from the room. Bethie wondered what it was. He had gone to get the gift. How nasty he was getting to be about this little gift giving of his. He knew she resented being treated like a prostitute and so he went out of his way to treat the gifts as if they were money. He always gave it to her right after their little sex act.
Morgan returned and placed the box in front of her. Bethie opened the box, glancing at him. He was dressing already. His manner was brusque, but she read the other look in his green eyes.
"Ohhhh!" She lifted out the tiny perfect earrings, pearls with one diamond carefully centered in each one. "They're beautiful, Morgan!"
"Bethie?" Morgan sat on the bed. She knew what was coming, and prepared for it with her stony look. Morgan compressed his lips together. "Never mind."
Bethie relaxed. She followed him to the door. Her face had put the message across. No dice! No talk of love! That was the message. She lifted her face for a goodbye kiss. He lingered on her lips and left.
Bethie closed the door and lifted the tiny earrings to the light. She wished he hadn't felt like that tonight. Perhaps she should have lied to him. Well, either way tomorrow was the day of truth ... or lies! It had been the first crazy day she had had in years. She watched the light flicker off the diamonds. If she didn't get the money, this gift would make up for it. Bethie was always insured. Pay as you go, he had said. Yes it was pay as you go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bethie stared at the front of the building, her face hard in the afternoon sunlight. This was it. She hadn't had a chance to call Duke and arrange the meeting. No, she told herself grimly, she hadn't had a chance at all. She walked into the building lobby and pushed the elevator button that would carry her up to the terrifying interior of Conroy Detective Agency. For the first time she felt a tinge of embarrassment. Even Duke, whom she had worked with these past two years, had sounded cold this morning.
The elevator glided soundlessly upward and Bethie clenched her gloved hands. From a sound sleep the phone had plucked her into this bitter morning. Duke had given her a rundown. He hadn't told her anything she didn't know. Just that she should get to his office as quickly as possible, that Russ Marino had called Morgan and that all hell was loose! The elevator doors slid soundlessly open and she stepped out carefully. The angry buzz of voices filled the corridor as she stepped inside the agency. Well, she thought, gritting her teeth, here goes nothing. She pressed the buzzer. Her hand had hardly left the small white button when Duke stepped from the office briskly, taking her arm and leading her inside. Bethie hardened herself.
If she was going to be on the nasty receiving end of this, it wouldn't do to let her emotions, or fear, show. All that beautiful money sliding away from her hot little hands. Duke slammed the door shut behind her and she took a chair, trying to avoid his face until she got herself in control. Morgan Reed was there already, his back towards her as he glanced out the window. This was indeed a sticky situation.
"Bethie! Why didn't you call last night and tell me? It would have prepared me." Duke's voice held anger, but Bethie was surprised to see a faint tenderness in his business-like face.
Bethie was about to answer, when Morgan whirled around. His green eyes were mere slits now, his mouth hard with anger.
"Why didn't you tell me last night? Why did you let it go? Marino called this morning."
"How did he know it was you? Did you tell him?" Bethie let the words curve softly from the hardened line of her mouth. She wasn't playing sweet Bethie today. She couldn't.
"How did he know it was me?" Morgan's voice sounded incredulous. "Come on! You slept with the man. You know him. You told me that's how you get to know people." Morgan caught his breath, glaring at her. "Then you know he's not stupid!"
Bethie lowered her head to hide a smile. For all of his anger, he was throwing in some unrelated remarks. In this final burst of anger at her, much more than his business loss was coming out. He was angry at her for a lot of things. He was jealous.
"He informed me that if I got Byron Beer, and if my campaign even had a faint tinge of his touch to it, he would get the Better Business Bureau on my tail. I couldn't afford that. I think I know why you wouldn't tell me last night. I know why!"
"Calm down, Morgan." Duke pulled a chair up and sat down, his eyes pinned to Bethie's. "She'll tell us."
"Sure. Think of a good one, Bethie!" Morgan sneered at her. He stepped closer to her chair, towering over her, his fists clenched. "She didn't tell me because she thought she would get the money and leave the scene before old Morgan found out."
"Bethie wouldn't do that," Duke protested, his eyes meeting Bethie's again.
Bethie knew he was wondering if she would do that to him, after all he had done for her.
"To tell the truth, I didn't know what I was going to do. I was upset."
"You weren't upset last night!" Morgan threw at her.
"I'm used to acting!" Bethie retorted. She smiled when his face flushed. That remark implied a lot. "I was going to tell you today. I had no idea that Russ Marino would think it was you. I thought you could still use the work. I got it all, you know."
"Sure I can use it! I can use it in jail!"
Bethie sighed, lighting a cigarette. Now that the brunt of this little discussion was over, she felt calmer, more like herself. It didn't matter now.
"It isn't like you to get caught. What happened?" Duke asked the question, leaning comfortably back in his chair.
It was just like Duke. Sure! He had his money already. Now he was interested in knowing the details. The details about her failure, she reminded herself. She inhaled sharply and blew the smoke out in a heavy gust.
"A woman in love. Duke, I've never had to deal with a woman in love before. She set a trap for me, urged me into it. I had temporarily blinded him and she saw to it that he opened his eyes quickly. She set the perfect trap and I walked into it. You see her stake in it was more than mine. Her man was at stake, or so she thought. I'm not used to dealing with emotions. I don't like them!"
Duke laughed. He sobered up and dealt her another question. "Bethie, why didn't you at least call me last night?"
Bethie wished they would stop tossing that question around. Duke had been good to her, had enabled her to make money. If she owed anything to anyone in this ugly world, it was Duke. She couldn't let him know that Morgan had been right. She had been considering taking her fee and disappearing.
"Failure." The word leaped to her mind as it left her mouth. All in one easy motion. As she began to explain to Duke, she knew it was not a lie. It was the truth.
"What's she talking about? What is this? Group therapy?"
"Duke, you know me," Bethie continued, ignoring Morgan's remark. "You know how I feel about failing. I just couldn't accept it. I was hoping I could scheme my way past it." She stopped and searched Duke's eyes to see if he understood. He nodded his head.
"Wait a minute, Bethie. I want to talk to you, but first let's straighten this out with Morgan."
"What do you mean straighten out? I don't owe you anything. She's endangered my business."
"All right, as you see it." He turned to Bethie. "Do you agree to just let it go?"
"Yes, yes, just get rid of him." Bethie rubbed her temple with the back of her hands. She just wanted Morgan to go. So, she didn't get the money. She had resigned herself to that when she had received the call from Duke.
"My fee stands," Duke announced, his eyes daring Morgan. "Sometimes these things happen." Duke walked towards the door and held it open for Morgan. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
Morgan glanced at the open door, his eyes wavering. Bethie watched him. She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about her. It was End of his affair with her. He wanted to get to hold onto something.
"Please go, Morgan. You have difficulties and then so do I. I'd like to talk to Duke alone."
"I'll write you a check for a thousand dollars."
Bethie sat up in her chair, watching Morgan pull the checkbook from his breast pocket. He had lost his campaign, but he intended to hold onto her. Well, let him think so. She would figure something out, but it didn't concern Morgan Reed. He handed the check to her. Bethie took it, giving in return a short smile that held just a whisper of a promise. Morgan left the office.
Duke closed the door behind Morgan and sat down, a wide smile on his face.
"Well, Bethie, you blew it. It happens to everyone sooner or later in this business. I see that you still have your gift of enchantment though, judging by the zeros on that check."
Bethie laughed. She felt better now that Morgan was gone.
"The problem remains though. I think perhaps I've been working you too hard. How about a vacation? I'll add some money to that check and send you off to some tropical paradise, let you relax, think a bit, get it back together."
Bethie lifted her face. She listened to the words, watching Duke carefully. He was a good friend. Well, she had been doing some thinking of her own.
"You know, Duke, you're too kind to me. I appreciate your offer, but perhaps I've outgrown this kind of work. It wasn't like me to walk into a trap that easily laid. I think I just might call it a day."
"Bethie, everyone loses a case now and then. It's not such a trauma. You take failure too hard. You have to live being prepared for it. Besides, what will you do? Secretarial work?"
Bethie let the smile take over her face. "No, not secretarial work ... really. I have something in mind though. I'll be okay, Duke." She hesitated, and then reached for the phone. It was a longshot, but she would play it. She dialed Lainie Drew's number and held on while her secretary screened the call.
"Lainie, this is Bethie. Can you meet me at your place in about a half an hour? Yes? Wonderful. I'll wait in the lobby."
She hung up the phone and smiled at Duke. "I'm playing a longshot."
"Lainie Drew herself, eh? I was a fool to worry about you, Bethie."
"As I said, it's a longshot, Duke." Bethie stood up. "I may have to take you up on that vacation after all."
"Bethie, you've made me a lot of money in the past. I'm sure you could make me that much and more in the future. My offer of a vacation is a good investment. You blew it once. So what? I've blown a few myself."
"Thanks again, Duke ... for everything." Bethie grasped Duke's hand and held it for a brief moment. She turned suddenly and walked from the office.
She had blown it. But, she told herself firmly, she was still Bethie Rainie, and was still coming out on top. If her big gamble with Lainie failed, there was Duke and his offer of a vacation and more work. A vacation on the money Duke would pay her was not her idea of a vacation. Duke would add a thousand to her thousand and then ... big deal! She was well aware of how fast a thousand dollars would disappear. Lainie Drew, though, was an inexhaustible supply.
Bethie lost no time in getting to Lainie Drew's little hideaway. Lainie was not in sight when she arrived. Bethie explained to the doorman and seated herself comfortably in the lobby on a soft blue couch. She picked up a nearby magazine and began to read. Not much time could have passed when she sensed a presence. Bethie slowly returned the magazine to its neat stack and looked up, meeting the cool green eyes of Lainie.
Lainie stood, one hip jutting out, marring the perfect line of the light green suit. A smile played on her lips as she tried to lick it off. Bethie grinned at her. Yes, Lainie was amused. Of course she had found out about the trouble at Raddon by now. The office grape vine, Bethie told herself.
"Shall we go up to my apartment?" Lainie suggested, not taking the smile from her round, red mouth.
"Of course." Bethie followed Lainie into the elevator, and stood next to her, not speaking. Her mind was racing, scheming. Now was the time to plan every move. Lainie had to go for her plan. Bethie had found out how to handle Lainie and she would not waste a gram of that knowledge. She had to play it cool. She had to be as wary as a cat. Bethie had to give the orders. Oh, Bethie knew Lainie. Lainie was so used to giving orders that taking them was something new and exciting to her.
She was a beautiful woman, Bethie thought. Desire crept into her belly. She and Lainie Drew had a lot in common. To them, men were puppets. Yes, Bethie could have a good thing going here if she played her aces. Once a woman like Lainie got control, she kept it! Bethie would rule!
"Here you go, dear." Lainie opened the door and closed it softly behind them, turning the lock. Lainie removed her jacket and sat on the couch.
"I heard you had a little trouble at Raddon." Lainie lit a cigarette, the smile deepening on her perfect face.
"It happens, Lainie, in my business."
"Spying, you mean?" Lainie laughed merrily. "I was so thrilled when I heard. It's so exciting! Your sweet little self being a spy. Of course I had another type of encounter with you. I knew you weren't all that sweet. But, I confess, it was the perfect disguise!"
"Not exactly a spy, Lainie. A detective. The private variety."
Bethie watched Lainie being amused. Let her be amused. It was good. It took a lot to amuse Lainie Drew. Bethie was well aware of that.
"Really? A detective. Exciting! You know you are very exciting! Even when I didn't know about your real ... employment." Lainie ran a hand down her smooth thighs to get the message across to Bethie.
Bethie stood and walked to the bar, moving her hips. She had worn a very female dress today. She scooped out two ice cubes and let them clink into the bottoms of two glasses. She then lifted a bottle of bourbon high, watching its dark purity through the dim light. She watched Lainie as she unscrewed the cork, pouring two fingers in each glass.
"You know, Lainie, I'm getting tired of the detective business. It's a rough way to earn a living. I messed up this case, for instance. My boss was sympathetic. He offered to send me on a vacation until I cleared my mind."
"Are you leaving?" Lainie leaned forward, intently watching Bethie, her green eyes flickering in the darkness.
"I might." Bethie took Lainie her drink and placed it snugly in her hand. "Yes, I might."
"That would make me sorry. When I heard the news and had no way to contact you, I...."
"Do you like me, Lainie?"
"Of course. I told you, you excite me."
"There is an alternative."
"Yes?" Lainie's face was suddenly hard. Bethie knew she knew the plot.
"Take me on that vacation, but to Europe. Make me your new secretary. Rather like a traveling companion, you know. I really think you can afford me. The change would do me good and you as well."
"I don't know. I have a social secretary," Lainie said, coyly.
"Fire her." Bethie's voice was suddenly hard. "Don't play games with me. I want your answer now. I plan to leave next week. With my boss's compliments or with yours."
"My business. I have to straighten so much out."
"You can keep in close touch. There are such things as cables."
"I don't know."
"Now, Lainie. I have to know now."
Bethie put her drink on the bar and closed in on Lainie. She slowly unbuttoned the back of her dress. Lainie stood and pulled the garment from her body, her green eyes glittering like emeralds. Bethie undressed herself and stood in the pile of her clothes. Her face was still sweet, but stern. Lainie sat, waiting for Bethie to approach her. Her long, fine hands played over her breasts, fingering the nipples. Still, she waited. Finally she gave her mouth a lick with her tongue.
"Okay, Bethie. Have it your way. Next week."
Bethie smiled, not answering. She walked slowly towards Lainie and took the woman in her arms, her hands loosening the thick black wealth of hair, until it fell in a shawl around her tight-skinned shoulders. Bethie opened Lainie's mouth with her tongue and kissed her with a woman's soft harshness. Lainie would like that. She pulled away and stretched Lainie's body the length of the couch. Lainie sighed and stretched her arms as Bethie moved her body on top of hers. Bethie writhed, like a white snake, pressing Lainie with her thighs, while the woman's hands clutched at her own buttocks. She enjoyed making love to Lainie. She opened her mouth, sucking at the breasts, watching the nipples expand as she moved her moist mouth over them.
Bethie worked her way down the flat little belly, smelling the sweet feminine musk of the woman. The pounding of animal desire ran through her. She forced the narrow thighs apart and burrowed down deep, her tongue flying back and forth. Lainie pulled at Bethie's hair in her spasms. Bethie moved. There wasn't enough room on the couch. She made a quick rolling motion and with a thump they both landed on the floor, laughing. Lainie rolled away from Bethie playfully. Bethie didn't follow. She would begin training early. She lay where she was until in a few seconds Lainie crawled over to her. Lainie swooped down and planted a kiss on Bethie's mouth, her hands fumbling with Bethie's breasts. She met Bethie's eyes and grinned.
"You know, darling, you're a bitch. You made me come to you."
"Yes." Bethie returned the grin. "This is going to be a battle, Lainie."
"Yes, Bethie," Lainie whispered, filling her hands with Bethie's hair. "A battle indeed, but so very exciting."
"Yes, yes." Bethie groaned as Lainie moved quickly, kissing with hot expertness. Bethie moved, her hands clutching at Lainie's shoulders. This was going to be the most difficult job she had ever taken on, she told herself. Then she surrendered to the sweetness, thinking her last conscious thought for a while. Perhaps when this time with Lainie was done with, sweet Bethie would not be so sweet after all.
