... was what they were after, for it was big at the box office, and they wanted a piece of the action ... But concerning what happened to them, we quote Alex Comfort, in his study. Sex in Society: "It is unfortunate that so much which is written about early sex experience and teenage behavior is written by men and by unmarried women-for perhaps the key problem of sex education, physical, social and moral, is to give boys, who in our culture are the more sexually aggressive, some rudimentary insight into the way girls' responses differ from their own. For a man, defloration is an achievement but no more-if anything, he is doing his partner a favor making a woman of her. For the girl, every act of penetration, then or later, is an invasion of her body by forces outside herself. She can never feel exactly the same toward a man who has 'known' her thus, even if only once-many boys are staggered by the change in her attitude that one act of intercourse can bring about, and her intensity may scare them off. Women are neither biologically nor intellectually 'weaker vessels,' and neither sex should be brought up with such illusions, but they are, in our culture, more vulnerable to rejection-this can be as traumatic to them as denigration of his virility to a boy, and its effects can be as lasting."
CHAPTER ONE
"You really are a Hollywood agent!" she said, awestruck. "That's right, Flora."
"And a talent scout accredited by a major studio!"
"By all major studios," I corrected her.
"I can hardly believe my luck!"
"Baby doll, I can hardly believe mine."
Which was true enough. No need to go into details, but there was this barn dance-type television show on a Tennessee channel and a certain amount of talk about it going national network. One of the interesting attractions of the show was an eighteen-year-old red-headed song-and-dance girl named Flora Bedwise. She'd turned out a few country-music disks which had done okay, but that wasn't the big attraction. She was reputed to be a truly sexy little skirt-flipper, as juicy a morsel as a man was likely to meet.
So I'd decided to stop off in Tennessee on my way from New York to LA. I mean, there was always a chance that this baby would turn out to be something, and I hadn't had any luck in a long time. I really had to hustle.
I booked a hotel room ahead of time, phoned the show's producer to make sure that Flora would be on the show I was going to see, get the word going around that Stirling Steele himself was going to be on the premises-you know, the big buildup. So that everybody on the show would act like they'd known for years who I was, even though they'd never heard of me before. Then I float in on my magic carpet, and I go to see the big production.
Flora Bedwise was something.
So she could hardly carry a tune, so what? So she read her line like an illiterate, who cared?
The reason the local boys liked to see her was obvious, and I suppose she knew why I was in the audience, so she was determined to show all she had to offer.
Sure, part of the time she carried a guee-tar, the way they do. But this baby really made love to it. I mean, the way she bellied it and strummed it, there wasn't a man in the place who wouldn't have given a year off his life to be the instrument she was playing on.
Then she abandoned the guitar and just sang and danced. If that was what you called it. The little redhead had this excited "come and get me; I'm ripe for rape" look on her pretty face, and the way she shook her boobs they looked as if they were going to tear their way out of her dress at any instant. She ground out bumps that would put any burlesque queen to shame, and she flashed legs that any burlesque queen would envy. You'd have thought she was advertising red silk panties. Or something.
Maybe this little darling was a touch short on talent in some departments, but she sure gave signs of having one talent which appealed to me.
But after the show I couldn't get near her.
This big hillbilly appeared, see. I mean this gorilla, this ape.
"Miss Bedwise don't want to see you, fella!"
"And just who are you, fella?"
"Ah am Moose Muggins, the Soulful Balledeer, and Ah am Miss Bedwise's fiance."
Her fiance yet. With a chick like Flora, I might have known that I'd run up against a big-muscled boy friend. I tried to argue, but no use. Mr. Muggins had taken one good look at me and decided he didn't like me. He was protecting his interests with Miss Bed-wise. Considering what I had in mind, Bedwise wise, T could hardly blame him.
I managed to phone Flora at her hotel that night.
"Oh, I am so thrilled that you should come here just to see me, Mr. Steele!"
"Couldn't we get together, Miss Bedwise-?"
"Oh, I would like to, but Alvin-that's Moose Muggins-insists that we've got to get right home tomorrow-"
"Where is home?"
She named a backwoods town in a backwoods state, conjuring up in my mind a picture of tobacco roads, chain gangs, baying coon hounds, snuffling blood hounds, the whole everlovin' boondock works.
"But Miss Bedwise-"
"Oh, do call me Flora, Mr. Steele."
"Call me Stirling, Flora-"
"Alvin-Moose-he's awfully jealous, and he insists on protecting me from all manner of things he says can happen to poor little hometown gals, but if only you could come see me personally at home, I could make you feel awfully welcome, Stirling. You'd find that I'm awfully hospitable...."
I must have been out of my mind.
That little bouncy-boobed nimble-legged ex-drum majorette actually talked me into going way out of my way to visit her hometown. It was something about the way she kept saying I'd be "awfully welcome" and she'd be "awfully hospitable." A heavy hung boy like me should have known better, but the redhead had a knack for putting a world of promise into a simple little phrase.
I kept telling myself, maybe she had big league talent after all. Obviously there was a lot of drive, a lot of desire, packed into that little screwing machine, and that's carried many a pretty girl a long way. And she'd persuaded me to visit her, hadn't she? She was one package who could almost persuade me to stay in Nashville for the next two or three weeks to wait for her next TV show.
Anyway, I traveled into the boondocks and was surprised to find that Flora lived in a pretty nice sleepy little town. I got in in the evening, registered in at the one decent hotel in town, which turned out to be very decent indeed.
The next morning I was awakened by a phone call from Flora.
"Oh, Stirling, you did come!"
"Of course I came. Did you think I wasn't serious, Flora? You realize that I don't travel all over these United States for nothing, don't you?"
"I know, darlin', and I'm so grateful to you!"
"Hey, how did you know I was here anyway?"
"Why, Stirling, the word is all over town! Stirling Steel, the famous Hollywood agent, has arrived in our fair city!"
So Flora had mentioned my interest in her. Or Alvin "Moose" Muggins had. The thought of the Soulful "Balledeer" was not particularly reassuring.
"When can I see you, Flora?"
"Why, right now!"
"Well-ah-I just woke up-I haven't had breakfast yet-"
"Don't you move a muscle! I'll be right over. What would you like for breakfast, and how would you like it done?"
True to her word, Flora knocked at my door in less than twenty minutes, and she had a hotel service cart with breakfast for two on it. She was, as I imagined they said in her town, decked out to the nines, wearing a red dress with a scoop neckline that showed almost as much of her creamy boobs as it concealed. Silk stockings, high heels, a little white hat. I figured her little visit to my room would cause plenty of juicy scandal in this town, but if she didn't care, I sure didn't.
She was everything I remembered and then some. The trip was worth it.
It wasn't that I hadn't had time to get dressed, I simply hadn't wanted to. And she'd told me not to move a muscle, hadn't she? So I sat around in my pajama pants and a robe, and we had breakfast together, talking Hollywood, "great stars I have known," and Flora's future. I almost talked myself into believing she had one.
Breakfast over and the pot of coffee finished, I told Flora that I really ought to shave, and she said to go ahead, don't mind her. I didn't mind her at all. I didn't even mind when she followed me into the bathroom and plunked her pretty little bottom down on the side of the tub and watched me. I peeled off the robe so that she could view my manly chest, broke out the old electric razor, and went to work.
That was when she said in those awed tones. "You really are a Hollywood agent!"
And I really knew that I was going to have a chance to put whatever talent she might have to the test.
"All smooth?" she asked as I finished.
"As smooth as you can get with one of these gadgets."
"Let me see."
She stood up, took a step toward me, and stroked my cheek. An unnecessarily intimate gesture, I thought. "Oh, yes," she said with approval. There was a temptation to rush matters right then and there, but I kept my cool and herded this cupcake back into the bedroom.
"Flora," I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed near the headboard, "it's time we had a serious talk."
"Yes, Stirling," she said sitting down near the foot.
"I've told you about some of the wilder escapades of various famous movie stars."
"I know," she said, "but you have to take the artistic temperament into consideration, don't you?"
"I'm glad you have such a liberal mind, Flora. Many people don't understand these things."
"Oh, I'm very understanding!"
"I do believe you are, Flora. You can understand how a woman of great talent would do just about anything to advance her career."
"Indeed I can. Why, I'd do just about anything myself. I mean I am fiercely determined, darlin'."
"I'm glad to hear it. Flora, would you be offended if I asked you a very intimate question?"
She blushed, as if she had some intimation of what the question might be. "I suppose I should be utterly frank with you."
"Hower-intimately involved with Moose are you?"
"Well, we've been engaged for some months," she said thoughtfully, "so naturally we have experienced some intimacy. But I've never gone all the way with him, because I believe that a girl should be mighty careful with a gentleman she may marry. Once a definite date is set, then it's quite understandable if a young couple goes all the way, but prior to that time I think a girl owes it to herself to be mighty careful."
"Very smart. I take it then that you are a virgin?"
She blushed again. "Well, I didn't exactly say that, now, did I?"
"You are not a virgin?"
A little smile on her lips, she looked at the floor. "Well, you see, there was this boy I knew when I was thirteen-"
"Thirteen?"
She nodded. "I was very well developed and got a lot of attention, and this boy was awfully cute. We used to play games all the time, and we were both awfully curious. So finally I got him to slug it to me." She giggled. "Shall I confess something awful? I liked it. Right from the start. I guess I'm awfully hot-blooded."
"And since then...."
She shrugged. "I certainly wouldn't say I've been a bad girl-but I guess I've felt my share."
"You're all woman, Flora."
"Yes, I've known that since I was twelve."
"And terribly talented."
"I'm glad you think so."
"May I ask you another very intimate question?"
She looked almost defiant. "You may ask anything you want, Stirling, anything at all."
"Are you good at making love?"
"Never had any complaints."
"Do you like making love?"
That elicited another giggle. "What natural gal doesn't?"
I kept a straight face. "This is terribly important, Flora. I don't mean to shook you. And I should point out that there have been stars who didn't like sex and who wanted nothing to do with sex. But the fact of the matter is that a girl who does like sex has an edge. She's going to meet some mighty important and attractive men, and...." I shrugged.
Her eyes widened. "You mean that some of these big Hollywood producers and directors and stars and such might want to screw poor little old me?"
"Flora, a girl like you-you should be insulted if they didn't."
"Oh, I understand that! There's one thing that people down her understand much better than you Yankees, Stirling, and that is that a female lady is obliged to make herself as attractive as she can, and a real gentleman is always ready to show his appreciation. A gentleman who isn't constantly trying to seduce any attractive lady he can isn't considered to be a real gentleman at all."
"Honey, you should get along very well in Hollywood."
She grinned. "Honey, I'm glad you think so!" I got up from the bed and went to a chest of drawers. "I've got something I want to show you."
"I'd be delighted."
From a drawer I took a large thick paper envelope. It was crammed full of pictures. Some were in black and white, some were in color. Some were clipped from magazines, some were actual photographic prints.
I'd found my handy-dandy little collection mighty helpful on more than one occasion not unlike the present one.
I sat down beside Flora.
"Pictures," I said. "Pictures of movie stars."
"Oh, goodie!" she said.
The pictures had been carefully selected. Some were old, some were new, but most of the actresses shown would be familiar to Flora.
There was Brigitte, spread out on a bed with a guy, naked except for a bit of sheet pulled over her middle.
There was Mamie, lying face down in a bathtub with her pretty bottom shining up through the lather. There was Sophia and Gina and Anita and all the rest.
In the various stages of undress. Or completely nude. With or without men. Publicity shots. Stills from movies.
And a number of "specia!" pics I'd angled onto. Pics that hadn't been released because they hadn't come out right. But which were right for my purposes. Pics of various undressed actresses, with and without men, showing more than they should have.
"Oh!" said Flora. "Oh! Aren't they beautiful?"
Weren't they though?
"Big stars," I said. "Not a one there, I suppose, who hasn't made a fortune. These days a girl can't be a big star if she isn't willing to do bedroom scenes and pose in the nude."
"Oh, I know! But a girl must be prepared to make some sacrifices. A big movie star had practically no private life at all!"
With that, she pulled up her skirt and started unfastening her stockings.
She caught the look of surprise on my face.
"Well, that's why you showed me all those pictures, isn't it?" she asked. "So I'd understand why it was that you had to see how good my figure is?"
"As a matt-er-of-fact-yes!"
"Well, then!" She laughed. "Maybe you'd like to unfasten my stockings for me, Stirling honey?"
In the next few minutes I found out just how wrong I'd pegged Flora.
I'd figured her as not too hard to score with. I'd figured that all I had to do was to say the right things and apply the right pressures and get her turned on, and she might take a little persuading, but she could be seduced.
Now I realized that if anyone was going to do any seducing it would be her and that she'd come to my room prepared for such an eventuality. She saw me as her big break, and she was happy to do anything she could to keep my interest. She didn't need any persuading that it was in her interest to give me a jolly time.
She swung her knees toward mine, and I reached for the exposed flesh of those full firm creamy thighs. I took my time. Who wouldn't?
She tilted her head back slightly, looking at me from lowered lids. The pink tip of her tongue traveled around the corner of her mouth.
"You want to know something?" she asked softly. "What?"
"You won't be shocked?"
"Who me?"
She snickered. "You're making me feel sexy."
I laughed and stroked the inner surface of a thigh. "You like that?"
"Mm-hm, do it some more."
I swallowed hard and did it some more.
She put a hand on my thigh, and an electric shock went through me. She shut her eyes for a minute and took a deep breath.
"You'd better go on and get my stockings off, Stirling, or I'm going to be frothing at the mouth."
She wasn't the only one. The moment I'd touched her I'd become aroused, the old rod twitching, and the instant she'd touched me-well, let's just say that I was completely ready. But completely.
Pajama pants weren't the ideal thing for concealing my condition, and I didn't figure the time had quite come for making any revelations. I had to be rather careful about the way I went down onto the floor on one knee to take off her shoes and roll her stockings the rest of the way down. That was when I discovered that she was wearing her trademark, red panties. Pretty lace-trimmed red panties.
As she stood up from the bed, I kind of lifted my bottom, swiveled, and sat down again, and I unzipped the back of her dress.
"I figure that if a girl is going to undress for a gentleman, she might as well enjoy doing it, don't you agree, Stirling?"
"Without a doubt, honey," I sighed, "without a doubt."
"Help me with my dress, will you, please?"
I stood up behind her and helped her pull the red dress over her head. Then I quickly sat down again while she hung the dress over a chair.
Luscious? Delectable? Torrid?
She moved with a languid sensuousness through the room, long-legged and firm-bodied. The red panties and garter belt looked utterly impractical in the little bit they covered. Her red bra had half-cups which couldn't quite conceal the tops of her aureoles, and her breasts rose out of them like smooth heaps of ice cream.
She looked at me, posed with hands on hips, and her tummy muscles did tricky little things.
"Like me?" she asked.
"You're glorious."
"Think I can compete with the gals in those pictures you showed me?"
"Honey, I think they'll have a hard time competing with you."
She took a few steps closer to me, her body one big sensuous ripple. She stood where I was almost looking up between her breasts into green eyes that spoke of nothing but desire.
"Am I-uh-turning you on, Stirling, honey?" she asked with a little smile.
"Baby doll, you sure are!"
"Cause I figure, what's the use of a gal being pretty and having a nice figure if she can't get results, don't you agree? I mean, those gals in those pictures aren't posing in the altogether or near to it just so a fella can go undisturbed, right? One of the reasons they're so successful in show business is that they've got something to show, and they can make men want it, right?"
"Right! Flora, you don't know how gratified I am to see you show such insight into the psychology of showmanship!"
"Thank you. I guess these undies show about as much of me as any bikini would. Have you seen enough of me yet?"
"Frankly, sweetheart, I don't think any man could ever see enough of you. I do have one question though. How much uplift does that bra give you?"
"Some, but not much. I've got good muscles. See?"
With that she started jerking the supporting muscles in her chest. And up they popped, those delightful boobs, nearly springing out of the bra cups and doing the most delightful little dance I'd ever seen.
"Jolly good!" I said enthusiastically. "Jolly, jolly good!"
She grinned at me as she let her boobs settle. "If you really would like to see more of me, I guess I wouldn't mind if you took my bra off."
I took a deep breath. I needed the oxygen badly. Her bra, I saw, hooked in front under a little rosette. I reached for the hook with both hands, felt my fingers slide over warm smooth flesh, and unfastened the bra with the deftness of a master.
The bra came open, peeling back on vibrant hemispheres, and I gazed with awe. The milky bowls had hardly fallen at all, they looked swollen from pleasure, and the perky nipples were like red stones jutting from the magnificent outcroppings.
"May I touch?" I asked respectfully.
"Be my guest," she said graciously.
So I touched. Felt. Kneaded. Lifted. Moved. Played with her nipples.
"You like 'em?" she asked.
"Perfection!"
"Fellas always like 'em. That's why I wear a bra that unfastens in front. Convenient, you know."
"Oh, I know, I know! And they're so firm, Flora! So completely soft on the outside, but firm just the same, with large hard cores-"
"And that's not silicone or parafin or whatever they're using these days. Mine are real!"
"You should be proud!"
"Thank you, honey. I am!"
She didn't object when I slid one hand from a boob down her side to a buttock.
"I'm firm there, too," she said, clenching the muscle under my probing fingers.
"You certainly are!"
"In fact, I'm firm just about everywhere. I'm in good shape."
"Baby, I can see that-"
"No, you've got to feel it. Go ahead, feel. I don't care."
So I felt.
I gripped both of her buttocks. I moved my fingertips over her bare tummy just above her diminutive panties. I stroked the inner and outer surfaces of both thighs, and I cupped a handful of hot, silk-clad femininity.
She vibrated under my touch, and her laugh had an uncontrolled note in it.
"Stirling honey, maybe I shouldn't admit it, but you're getting me awfully worked up!"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, I don't mind! I always enjoy getting in a lather. I just hope you're having as much fun as I am."
"I'll admit that I'm having a difficult time keeping my mind strictly on business."
"If you were to try to take my panties off, I wouldn't mind."
"I suppose I should see what all of you looks like."
"I certainly think you should."
So I peeled her. Panties and garter belt, the last shreds of concealing material.
She was a real redhead all right. Red-haired, ripe, and swollen.
"Ah," she said as I stroked her bush, "I do like to be petted. I'm a good girl, I'll have you know, Mr. Stirling Steele, but when all is said and done, I'm just a nice redhead pussycat, and I do like a gentleman who knows how to make me purr."
I drew her closer, sending on arm around her, and nuzzling a resilient bob. She lifted a knee onto the bed and moved herself against me.
"Are you purring now, honey?" I asked.
"Am I!" she said softly. "Stirling, I'll admit you're not the first gentleman to tickle my fancy, but the way you're wiggling that finger in and out right now, you're going to drive me plumb out of my little skull!"
We kissed. Our tongues snaked together.
"Whyn't we have some fun, honey?" she asked when we could both talk again.
"What've you got in mind?"
She answered by kissing me again, and my temperature went up another ten degrees as I felt the warm smooth exploring motion of her tongue.
"I'd sure like to," I said as I moved her over me and onto the bed.
"You really do want me?" she asked as she settled back.
"Don't you know?"
"I still haven't seen any evidence."
"You're about to."
I grabbed at the waist of my pajamas, gave a tug, and the snaps came undone. The evidence was immediately and convincingly presented, and I kicked the pants the rest of the way off.
"Why, Stirling, honey," she giggled as she slid a galvanizing hand over my fevered flesh, "did I do this to you?"
"You sure did, baby doll!" I managed to say between gasps as I settled onto the bed beside her.
"But you're so aroused!" she said. "You're so terribly long and hard. Why, honey, you look like you're going to burst a blood vessel if you don't get some relief soon."
"I am, I am!" I said hoarsely. "Maybe it'll help if I pet you a little bit ... like this...."
We grappled. I swept her hand away. Too much of "like this" at once, and I'd be a goner.
She made me give chase. I kissed her nipples and stroked her about the legs as she rolled about, laughing, and once we fell clear off the bed. We jumped back onto it again, on our knees, and embraced.
"I can't take much more of this!" I said huskily.
"Neither can I!" she said. "Do you want to slip it to me now?"
"Oh, baby, yes!" I threw her back on the bed.
"Take me!" she said as I got over her. "Do it to me! Give that big thing to me! Take me!"
With nimble fingers she brought my hard rod right where I wanted it to go.
"Take me! Love me! Do it!"
CHAPTER TWO
So I took her.
She wasn't my first and she wouldn't be my last, but oh, that once!
Not just one time, you understand, but one long lovely session. A session to be remembered. A monumental session.
That first time went fairly quickly because we were so keyed up.
I'd no sooner driven the long route home than she pressed up against me and said, "Oh, honey, I've got you inside, I'm holding all of you, and-and I'm-I'm winging, I'm flying, do you feel that, I'm there, I'm there, there!"
Indeed she was.
And didn't I know it.
It was a matter of sheer luck that I didn't conclude the whole matter during those few seconds.
But I didn't, I got my calm if not my cool, and I rode out her storm.
"Oh, honey," Flora said weakly as she relaxed, "you didn't finish, did you!"
"No," I said unsteadily.
"Oh, bless you, honey, because I'm a repeater!" Repeater?
She was a bloomin' Gatling gun!
I'd hardly started giving her what I was there for when she was off again. And this time she didn't stop. She just kept on throbbing, one time after another, with hardly a pause in between.
I couldn't take that.
If she was a Gatling gun, I was armed with a fifty caliber anti-aircraft weapon, loaded with armour-piercing ammunition, and I could produce more fire-power in thirty seconds than she could in an hour..
So I produced.
"Oh, you're there," she cried, "you're there!" I sure was.
Right along with her, both of us turning the trick in a mindless, fantastically sensuous blaze.
"I do hope you don't think I'm a bad girl," she giggled, curling up in the curve of my arm. How often had I heard that?
"Of course not. We're only human. You don't think I'm a bad man, do you?"
"Oh, you're good!" she said, doing a playful thing to my balls with one hand. "But just the same, I was a silly girl. I shouldn't have tried to turn you on, but I wanted to show you that I could."
"You certainly succeeded!"
"And you liked humping me?"
"Baby, you're a marvel!"
"I should have remembered that I was here strictly on business. I shouldn't have let my heart run away with me."
Her heart? That wasn't what they called it where I came from.
"And you enjoyed yourself?" I asked.
"Oh, yes! You really know how to treat a girl! You're not at all like most of the boys I've known."
"Oh? what are most of the boys you've known like?"
"Well, I wouldn't want you to think I'm promiscuous or anything-"
"Of course you're not."
"But most boys are quick, if you know what I mean. On again, off again, just like that. Sometimes a girl needs a little help in getting started, but they climb right onto you before you're really rolling, have their fun as fast as they can, then jump right off. They don't know how to pet a girl for a while first. I mean, they're good enough at petting until the first time you go all the way with them, but from then on it's just.-"
"On again, off again."
"Exactly. Of course I don't know all this from personal experience, but I've had a lot of girls tell me the same thing."
"I've had a lot of girls tell me the same thing too. Me, I like to take my time. Almost always."
"I'm glad." She raised her head and gave me a little kiss. "I hope you're not the kind of man who, once he's had it in a girl isn't interested in her any more."
"Do I act like I am?"
"Not yet, you haven't."
"Good. Now you know better than to get dressed."
She nibbled at my cheek. "Why shouldn't I?"
"I'd just have to undress you again."
"You mean you want to make love to me again?"
"And again and again and again."
"Oh, my!" She laughed. "Aren't you the lusty stud! But I really ought to conclude my business with you and get dressed and go home. You know, it really wasn't a very nice thing that we did."
"I thought it was very nice."
"Yes, but I'm an engaged woman! And this is the first time I've done anything like this since I got engaged-"
"You said yourself you enjoyed it."
"Yes! Little old naughty me!"
"I'll make you enjoy it even more the next time."
She laughed again. "Well ... I guess since I've had that rod once, it's not going to make any difference if I take it in again. Just one more time."
"Or twice."
"Or even three times. I guess even a good little old gal like me is entitled to kick over the traces every now and then."
"You're absolutely right."
"My fiance slips it to every gal he gets a chance to. It's only me that he stays sort of pure with. So why shouldn't I stay pure only with him?"
"Good thinking!"
"You're laughing at me."
"No, honey, I was just thinking of how nice it would be if you strummed me the way you strum that guitar of yours."
"You mean like this?"
Strum I said, and strum she did. I might not have been a guitar, but she did okay on a one-string banjo as long as the string was taut enough. And soon it was.
"Oh, look at you!" she said.
"I'd rather look at you," I answered, playing her like a harp.
"You certainly are hung, aren't you!"
"Don't you like big boys?"
"When they're as nice to me as you are!"
"Lady, it's a pleasure."
"I'll give you a real pleasure," she said breathlessly, and suddenly she was sitting up, then leaning over me. "Oh!" I said. "Ah! Oo!"
"You like that?"
"Yes, but no more. I couldn't stand it."
"I've never done it before. Fellas have asked me to, but I never would. Lots of girls I know have done it-all the way-and they told me how, but I was always kind of scared. Scared I wouldn't do right, I guess."
I kept on playing the harp. "You don't have to be scared any longer, baby. Nobody ever blew me any better."
Panting, we tantalized each other a few minutes.
"Stirling, honey, I'm getting terribly, terribly worked up!"
"So am I, baby!"
"Why don't you take me again, honey!"
"Right away, sweetheart, right away!"
"Oh, that's right, get over me!"
"I'm going to cover you, baby, I'm going to take you-"
"Right this way, right here, Stirling, oh, that's right, right there, right there, oh, you're taking me, oh you're sliding in so smooth so hard, so long, oh, that feels good, oh, baby, I have you now, I've got hold, oh-oh, I'm going!"
That time I did better. Showed the old maestro's touch. Rode out storm after storm, watched her billow like clouds under me, and gave her pleasure such as she might never have known among her on-again hillbilly boy friends.
Then, when I saw that she was about played out, I let go.
But good.
"Oh, Stirling," she groaned, "did you like that?"
"Oh, baby, you don't know!"
"I'm good to you? I help you to shoot off good?"
"Sweetheart, you're a miracle! A red-headed miracle!"
"Do you think you'll be able to screw again?"
"Give me a little time, sweetheart, just a little time. I'm not going to let you leave here until you've taken every shot, that I've got to give you!"
"Oh, I'm so glad!"
After that, there was no kidding around. We didn't even talk much about her "career". Insofar as we talked at all, we talked about sex, and our talk got wilder and rougher as we tried to drive each other to new peaks of pleasure. She hadn't had any sex for months, at least nothing like this, and for that matter I hadn't had much myself. Business aside, she was a terrifically sexy redhead, and I was a stud who attracted her, and we were locked up on a hotel room and stripped naked for just one thing.
To have ourselves a hocking ball. "God, I've never done anything like this before in my life," she said, just before I slid in for the fourth time.
"You haven't?"
"No. I've taken off my panties to pet. I've lifted my skirt once or twice during a date, or maybe once at the end of the date to top things off. But I've never stripped down with a fella and just kept going at it and at it and at it, trying to get all I could!"
"You like it?"
"Oh, do I! I guess this is what you call an orgy, huh?"
"Yeah. A two-person orgy."
"Well, come on, honey, I'm all ready for your rod, orgy in me some more!"
I did, and after that time I thought I was finished. I mean, four times may not seem like much for a healthy young guy, but you've got to remember that we were kind of crowding the schedule. This wasn't any dusk to daylight romp but a morning and afternoon affair.
Then, too, my common sense began to come back to me as I chilled off, and common sense chilled me even further.
What the hell was I doing, wasting time and money chasing this red-headed snatch around the country?
Sure, I'd gone hard-on for her, and she'd turned out to be a terrific lay, but she was by no means unique. I'd given her the impression that I was interested in her as an entertainer, a performer in a somewhat different field. Now, in the cold aftermath, I saw her as one more seven-day wonder, a sexy little girl who might sell a few records and keep the hicks entertained for a while, but she sure wasn't another Ingrid Bergman. Or even another Brigitte or Mamie or Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday.
"Then play with me a little. Come on, sweetie pie, do things to me."
So we stretched out, and I did things to her. With my fingers. With my lips. With my tongue.
And she groaned and quivered and rose to peaks that I couldn't match. She was phenomenal in this respect at least. And she wasn't in any clinical sense a nymphomaniac, at least not as I understood the term. She wasn't one of these gals who are impelled in strain for the big scene they can never reach. She reached it.
Like rockets and bombs and flares. "Mm, good," she groaned, "You make me feel so good!"
Then she was making me feel good. And I'll tell you, willing though I am to give her all proper credit, I was proud of myself! There was old Stirling Steele, stud-at-large in all his hot, hairy magnificence!
"Quick!" she said. "Love me! Take me! I want your rod once more!"
I flipped about on the bed, and she presented a clear target. I took aim. Then I descended like a depth bomb.
To the limit.
And that time we both worked like mad. Even she was having some difficulty in reaching a satisfactory culmination this time, and no two people ever strained and struck so rapidly and with such constant force. I grabbed a buttock and pulled at her. Her nails clawed at my buttocks. I practically shouted at her, telling her how good she was, what I was doing to her, what was going to happen, trying to push both of us across that final barrier.
I didn't pay the slightest attention to the pounding at the door, and neither did she.
I didn't pay the slightest attention when the wood began to rend and splinter.
If someone insisted upon coming in, I couldn't stop him. All I knew was that I had to shoot it to Flora. And I did. We both did.
Just in the nick of time, because Flora was screaming, and I felt myself being picked up bodily and hurled across the room.
Then-lights out.
Well, it had been a lovely afternoon while it lasted.
They work fast down there. At least they did where their beloved Moose Muggins and his fiancee, the adored Flora Bedwise, were concerned. I was the city slicker who'd come to town and seduced one of their local girls, and as such I was lucky I didn't wind up getting lynched.
As it was, Moose tried to hang a rape charge on me, which, I understood, could have led to the electric chair.
Fortunately, that little plan didn't hold up. Flora simply wouldn't support such a charge. If I got sizzled or sent up, where was her entree to Hollywood?
"Don't you understand, you lout, that this is Stirling Steele, the famous Hollywood agent and talent scout-"
"He ain't no talent scout! He's a phony!"
"Now, what makes you say that?" she shrilled.
"Because if he wasn't a phony," Moose bawled back, red-faced, "he would have wanted me to go to Hollywood and not a little no-talent hot pants like you!"
"Who you callin' no-talent, boy? Boy, who you callin' no-talent!"
"You, I'm callin' no-talent! You're nothing without me! I made you what you are today-"
"You didn't make me, he did! Why, you cheap hillbilly, you couldn't make a cabin out of Lincoln Logs-"
"Who you callin' a hillbilly, you cheap little field-hand, been plowed more often than a wornout corn patch-"
"Not by you, boy! Boy, you couldn't cut the mustard with an electric carving knife-"
"Sez who?"
"I sez, that's who!"
"Hesh epp," said the Justice of the Peace. "Hesh epp."
"I demand a lawyer," I croaked. "I demand a mouthpiece! I plead the Fifth Amendment! I stand on the Constitution! Four score and seven years ago-"
"Hesh epp, Yankee. You're in foreign country down here-"
"I claim diplomatic immunity! I demand that the ambassador be notified at once! I'll take the whole matter to the United Nations!"
"Poor boy," Flora sighed, "Alvin Moose Muggins had beat him plumb out of his little old haid!"
I nearly was out of my head, but that was due to Flora as much as to Moose. I'd been only half-conscious when I'd pulled my clothes on, and I didn't feel completely in my right mind when Moose and a couple of deputy sheriffs or whatever they were tossed me into the J.P.'s office.
Moose, it seemed, was a power in these parts.
"Now, we know perfectly well," said the J.P. at last, "that you ain't no talent scout or whatever you call yourself-"
"How do you know?" I asked indignantly.
"Because you're the second fellow in a week who's pulled that'n, young feller, and we nearly fell for it the first time, but once burnt, twice shy. Now, I really ought to see to it that you go up for a good long time, seeing as how you assaulted a leading citizen like Mr. Muggins here-"
"I assaulted?"
"Mr. Stirling did not assault nobody," Flora shrieked.
"He fought like a demon, Cy," Moose said. "He resisted arrest like crazy. It took me and two officers of the law to subdue him. I think he's some kind of crazy sex fiend."
"Alvin Moose Muggins, I give you back your ring! I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in the world!"
"You wouldn't get the chance if you was the last woman!"
"Hesh epp. Hesh epp. Now, you don't look like a bad young feller, Stirling, so I'm going to go easy on you-"
"Judge! Your honor! Milord!" I said, tears in my eyes. "I didn't do anything!"
"You disturbed the peace and resisted arrest and you're giving me a headache. So I hereby sentence you to thirty-days-"
"But your Grace-"
"Give or take a few. If you're a nice feller, maybe I'll see to it that you get sprung early."
"Couldn't you just fine me?"
"I could, but Moose here wouldn't like that-"
"I'll see you're taken care of, Cy," big-hearted Moose said, and the two men exchanged winks.
So yours truly went into the pokey for thirty days.
"Ah, Stirling," said Lacey Maross. "So nice to see you. After a week here, I'm in danger of going beserk from lack of civilized conversation. Our local paper, The Weekly Coonbay, has a certain entertainment value, but one wearies of reading about who won the last bake-out at some local church, and I've never had any great interest in the wholesale price of greens, and I'll bet there isn't a copy of Variety in a hundred miles. One can play over only so many symphonies in one's head, and the sound of country music intrudes like blasphemy. One can recite only so much poetry to oneself, and even Shakespeare and Milton cease to entertain. I have latched onto a certain number of rather amusingly sexy paperbacks, but in this environment that leads only to frustration, my boy, only to frustration-"
"Lacey!" I said.
"Who did you expect?" he asked. "Ronald Reagan?"
I had recognized him instantly in spite of the denim jail togs. I just hadn't expected him.
"You always were a natty dresser, Lacey," I said.
"Yes, I give even the poorest costume a certain flair, I grace it with a certain style. Pity you can't say the same. I take it that you didn't come here to visit me. Tell me, did they delouse you too? A most unpleasant process, but I do believe in cooperating with the law to the greatest extent. Support your local coppers, that's my motto. A policeman's lot is not a happy one. Neither is a jailbird's, by the way."
I settled onto a bunk beside him. He was a rather short little guy with slick black hair, a round cherubic face, and sleepy eyes. And behind those sleepy eyes was a mind like a razor. In a cement mixer.
"What's the drill?" I asked.
"Up at the crack of dawn. The food's not bad, really, not bad at all. Especially if you like grits with grits with grits. Then off you go to work, whistling if you wish, which nobody does. Fortunately, your companions are not bad fellows-an assortment of knife-fighters, pimps, boosters, drunks and such like, the very kind of fellows you see by the dozens walking around Broadway and Forty-second on any pleasant evening. You'll feel right at home."
"What's the work?"
"Currently-road-mending."
I was appalled. "But that sounds like real work."
"If it isn't, it'll do until some comes along."
"But I was sentenced to thirty days, not thirty days at hard labor!"
"Makes no difference, my lad. Dem roads, dey gotta get mended. And, really, they only put you to work for your own sake. I mean, they don't want you to sit around getting constipated on those grits."
"By George, that's nice of them," I said miserably.
"Isn't it, though? Gets you where you live."
I contemplated the future with a dull eye. "How did you get locked in this tank, Lacey?"
"Blackest villainy. Lacey Maross is innocent."
"There's a switch."
"Don't jibe. I come to this hamlet with the best of intentions. No doubt you've heard of this birdie girl called Flora Bedwise-"
"Shake hands." We shook. "Ever heard of Moose Muggins?"
We shook again.
"Anyway," Lacey went on, "I was in Chi-town trying to do a stripper a favor and turn a penny to pay my office rent when I got the inspiration to call on Miss Flora Bedwise, who seems to be making good in a small way-"
"Small way is right."
"Well, if worse came to worse I figured I could book her overseas To Entertain Our Boys."
"That she could do. She went through me like a lady mugger through a wallet."
"I thought I'd be bright and catch her in her own hometown before her next show, because if she was good she'd soon have the world on her tail-"
"I think she may, but not in quite the way you mean."
"On arriving here, I inquired as to where she could be found. She was not listed in the phonebook-they have discovered the telephone here, by the way-but an effulgent young lady", perched becomingly upon a stool in front of a soda fountain, allowed to me as how she was Flora's very best friend in all the world, and I allowed to her as Flora would have a pretty hard time matching measurements to you, baby, and I was a theatrical agent, but I wasn't at all sure that I had to look any further for talent, and why wasn't she in Hollywood or New York?
"At that instant, true love was born."
"Naturally."
"Naturally. Well, it seemed as how this chick was Moose Muggins' sister Zenia, and Moose and Flora would be tied up until late night, rehearsing for their next show, and they weren't to be disturbed on no account. And since her house was empty, why didn't we go over there, and she'd cook me some supper, and I could tell her all about New York and Hollywood."
"And, no fool you, you leapt at the chance."
"In a seemly fashion, yes. And in time the lady demonstrated that that superb figure of hers was truly all hers-"
"That drill I know."
"And in turn I showed her a fine figure of a man." His eyes became distant, the eyes of a man with memories.
"The fried chicken was great, Stirling," he said. "Simply great."
"And the muffins," I suggested. He nodded. "And the salad...."
"And the dessert...."
He sighed. "She sleeps on silk sheets, Stirling. How dp you like that? Quite unexpected in a town like this, eh? I can't tell you how she looked ... how her white skin contrasted with the pink sheets yet reflected their color. She was what you call-ah-"
"A dish."
"There was plenty of time to stay for seconds. My mistake was in staying for thirds."
"Oh, no," I groaned. "Not you too!"
He looked at me with interest. "Same lady?"
"No. Flora. She was engaged to Muggins."
"Ah-ha! The prize pudding! Stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum! Tell me, lad, tell me all!"
Briefly, I told him.
"But finish," I said.
"There's not much more to be said. I'd barely completed the consummation-and you have my word that it was a lulu-when in strode the angry brother, together with a couple of be-er-belching buddies. He tried to knife me, but Zenia bit his wrist. He tried to break my neck, but she clobbered him with a lamp. I owe my life to that generous lady, Stirling. But that didn't keep me out of the bastille. There was no case against me, but I was accused of disturbing the peace-Moose's peace of mind, I guess-and of assaulting the poor fellow. Hence you find me here. In durance vile."
We sat quietly and contemplated the irony of it all.
Then I remembered something.
"They wouldn't believe I was an agent," I said. "They told me that someone had pulled that one on them a week ago. That must have been you."
He nodded. "True. They checked up on my story. Maybe they figured that if T was for real I could get
'em all jobs on TV or something. Unfortunately, during my wanderings my office was apparently locked up-a little matter of overdue rent, you know-and my answering service disowned me and my unpaid secretary got lost, off the Williamsburg bridge, I hope-"
"I get it. You're just a little lamb who's lost in the woods."
"I got company, daddy-o."
We sighed and contemplated the irony of it all some more.
"Are there no compensations?" I asked.
"Why, certainly! You're fed, clothed, you have a roof over your head! You'll leave this place in superb physical condition! Why there are no end of benefits which accrue to a jailbird-"
"Stow it!"
"And wait until you meet the matron. A quite average but not unlovely little chick, and she gets lovelier day by day for some odd reason. She's the dolly who cooks all those grits, grits, and more grits-"
"Stow it. Let's sack out."
We did, but the dawn brought no joy. Some ugly turnkey or town constable or whatever he was shoved the tin plates of grits into our cell-and I hate to admit it, but they weren't bad. Then we were herded out onto a truck and hauled out somewhere in the wilderness where we were expected to repair a gravel road with tweezers. About a dozen of us and a batch of moronic looking guards armed with rifles. And they all looked in the mood for target practice.
Tote dat barge! Lift dat bail!
Some of the boys, I noticed, were masters at looking as if they were working their asses off while hardly moving a muscle. Unfortunately, I didn't have the knack, though Lacey looked as if he were catching on.
I arrived back at my cell that evening defunct.
Next day, same thing.
Twenty-eight days to go. More or less.
"Lacey, why don't you pull an Errol Flynn and get us the hell out of here? You know-revolt of the galley slaves and all that!"
"I'm a lover, not a fighter."
"And Flynn?"
"An actor. Life is earnest, buddy-boy, life is real. You'd better believe it."
After the third day's work, I got a break.
I'd just finished my evening's repast-grits-when I realized that a figure had appeared at our cell door.
A female figure.
You could tell that in spite of the blue sack-like dress she was wearing. The matron? I thought. This chick?
She was a slim little thing, maybe not much figure. Cute, though, with long shiny brown hair and brown eyes with a glint in them. Nice complexion. Nice ankles. No Marilyn Monroe, not by a long shot, but nice.
"Oh!" she squealed delightedly. "You really are a Hollywood agent!"
CHAPTER THREE
Yessirreebob, somebody had finally got it through his fat little head that I was no ordinary grifter but just what I claimed. A Hollywood agent.
Now, I will admit that some other agents would dispute this. Some actors, too. Some singers, dancers, writers, producers, directors, and various and sundry others as well.
Just the same, in my few short years in the game I'd handled some very big personalities, big enough that it had hurt my pride to think I might be reduced to hustling for third or fourth raters like Flora Bedwise.
True. My Hollywood office was a broom closet for which I was charged exorbitant rent.
True. I'd frequently had trouble paying that rent and the phone bill.
True. I'd just recently lost my last client to a schnook named Payson Terhune.
True. It had been some time since I'd been able to afford a full-time secretary.
But at present my rent was paid, the phone was functioning, I subscribed to a telephone-answering service, and I had a lett-er-answering service which churned out form replies in my absence. I wasn't exactly on my uppers.
I'd even maintained pleasant relationships with several studios so that I could call myself a talent scout, a term which means very little these days but which has a pleasant ring in the ears of the hicks. Not that I sell hicks short, by the way-I happen to be a small town boy myself.
But the mere fact that someone had at last gotten my profession straight didn't strike me as being of any particular importance at the moment. I didn't forsee, dull-minded as I was after my day's labor, that one thing would lead to another, and that there was a light on the horizon.
I gazed without interest at the brown-haired mouse on the other side of the old-fashioned barred door.
"Who told you that?" I asked.
"I heard you were some kind of crook without visible means of support except for a lot of money in your pocket-"
"Oh, fine."
"But that you claimed to be an actor's agent, same as that other fella over there did. We've had some experience with phony talent scouts and the like in these parts, Mr. Steele, so you can't blame us if we're a mite suspicious."
I looked at Lacey. "The matron?" He nodded. "Mrs. Abby Billings. Our Lady of the Grits."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Billings," I said dully, for lack of anything snappier.
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Steele, and I sure am sorry about the misunderstanding about your professional-er-profession."
I gallantly shrugged the matter off. "I don't suppose that this makes any difference in reference to my incarceration?"
"No, you'll still have to serve your sentence, the same as that crook in there with you-"
"Mrs. Billings," I said with a hint of asperity, "I'll have you know that Mr. Maross is a highly reputed professional colleague of mine. I suppose you're the one who checked up on his standing and found that his New York office didn't exist?"
"I sure did-"
"Through an unfortunate misunderstanding his office was closed down in his absence. I do not know why and, thanks to his present status as a prisoner, neither does he. In all likelihood, his half-mad secretary, poor soul, closed it down and hightailed it to Mexico with the rent money as some kind of misguided practical joke. But he can hardly be blamed if the Soulful Ballade-er-oh, well, to hell with it."
Abby Billings looked at me through widening eyes.
"Gee!" she said.
"Gee, indeed, Mrs. Billings."
"I sure am glad to have this misunderstanding cleared up."
"Life's little contretemps, Mrs. Billings. Think nothing of it."
"But if I'd only known...."
I didn't have to ask, if she'd only known what? I knew. Even in my present state of exhaustion. If she'd known, she'd have started the "why don't you make me a star" bit, that was what. That was why she'd checked up, first on Lacey, then on me. One more starry-eyed aspirant to theatrical fame and glory.
Abby Billings swung the cell door open. It had never been locked, but two or three doors between us and freedom had been, so that didn't make any difference.
"Mr. Steele, I'd like to talk to you some more, if you don't mind. Would you mind coming downstairs to my apartment-?"
"Honeychild, I've been out working on the roads all day, I haven't even washed up yet, and, with all due respect, my evening grits have yet to arrive-"
"They're all cooked and should be up any minute now, but wouldn't you rather come down to my place and have a real nice supper with me-?"
"I don't think-"
"Certainly, he would!" Lacey cut in swiftly. "Why he'd be honored! And I'm sure that Mr. Steele would be more than happy to answer any questions you may have about Hollywood or the motion picture industry or his own work." He turned to me. "Go right ahead, Stirling, don't let me stop you! Stay as long as you wish! Have a good time, and bless you, my children!"
"Aw, thanks," I said, "but perhaps Mr. Billings would rather not be disturbed-"
"Ain't no Mr. Billings," Abby said, and quickly corrected herself, "I mean, isn't none."
"Go, my boy, go!" Lacey insisted, practically pushing me out of the cell.
So I went. Not really willing, but I went.
"That Mr. Maross is really cute once you get to know him, isn't he?" Abby Billings giggled as she took me downstairs.
"A man of good will, Mrs. Billings, but of fierce appetites. Very fierce appetites."
"Yes, I heard he slugged it to Zenia Muggins real good."
Ah, the forthrightness of these children of nature.
Abby Billings had a very nice four-room apartment on the first floor of the jailhouse building. Dinner was already on the table, which was laid out for two. Suddenly I found I had an appetite, so I washed hastily in the bathroom, and cut right into the chow. I could have done with a couple of cocktails first, but the meal was delicious.
We quickly got onto a first-name basis, and Abby told me how she happened to have this set-up. It seemed that her husband was the sheriff, but he'd been found beaten to death over a year ago. The new sheriff was a bachelor, and he'd stuck to his old rooming house, so the poor widow had been allowed to remain in the apartment as matron, cook, and general all round housemother for the jail.
"Did they ever find out who did in your hubby?"
She shook her head. "There were a number of candidates, due to his job, but most people seem to think it was Moose Muggins."
"Why would Moose do a think like that?"
"Guess he heard that Roy-that was my husband's name-Roy was screwing Flora Bedwise from time to time, and since Moose was courting Flora, well ... Anyway, there I was, hardly a year married and a widow already."
"How did you feel about Roy and Flora?"
"Oh, some people did suggest that I might have clobbered Roy with a brick or something, and it's true I sure didn't like him playing around, but he always kept me satisfied, so I figured it wasn't really any skin off my nose. Besides which I knew he'd pumped Flora from time to time before we were married, and old habits are hard to break." She shook her head sadly. "Somebody sure broke that habit for him."
We contemplated the ways of destiny and man in silence for a few minutes, then she shook her head brightly and offered me a drink. I accepted, and when she brought it, it was a real jolt.
She finally got up the nerve to bring up the question that was on her mind all the time.
"Mr. Steele-Stirling-I wish you'd give me some advice. Just how does a girl go about breaking into the movies anyway? I mean plain old ordinary girl like me?"
"Well, now, Abby-"
"Lots of girls do, I know. Girls with lots less to offer than me, I'll bet. Not all big female movie stars are outright beautiful, and I guess I'm as good-looking as some of them. And I know I'm just as bright, because I know typing and shorthand and accounting and I'm even a registered nurse, and I'm only twenty-three years old. And I'd been brushing up on my grammar, which I got A's in, and studying diction and stuff like that-"
"Listen, Abby...."
I was too weary to be very diplomatic, too weary to play games. I tried to think how to break the bad news.
"Listen, honey, I hate to discourage you, but there isn't any tried and true formula for breaking into the movies. You can look for jobs in little theaters, you can attended acting schools, you can get a job with a dance band, you can sing in night clubs, you can do all kinds of things, and you just might end up with a movie contract. Might. The odds are about ten thousand to one against it, no matter how hard you plug away."
"Yes," she said quickly, "but what if a girl were to get herself discovered by a big-time agent like you? Wouldn't that help? Wouldn't that mean she could go right to Hollywood?"
See? Another dreamer. She even had it in her head that I was "big time." Because she wanted to believe that I was "big time."
I kind of liked her, so I was sorry for her.
"Honeychild, what do you want to be an actress for anyway?"
She was silent for a few seconds.
"Stirling, I got to. I mean, I have to. I mean, I simply must! I mean I gotta express myself, see?"
"You know what it takes for a young girl to break in these days? Talent is great. Some girls make the grade strictly on talent, they really do. But mostly it's sex. They make sexy movies, show a lot of flesh. They pose for pin-up pictures, half undressed or in the raw. And you have to have a pretty good physique for that kind of thing."
She flushed. "I have a good body. I have a very nice body!"
"Yes, I'll bet you do," I said hastily-the last thing I wanted to do was offend her. "But would you want to be undressing for the camera all the time?"
"I wouldn't mind," she said rather defiantly, and added, "if it was for art!"
"And have producers and directors always putting the make on you?"
"I could stand it. I can take care of myself."
I shook my head. But she had that desperate look in her eyes. Lacey and I were her big chance. She was getting a break that might never come again, so she thought. And if I didn't help her out, she'd turn to Lacey.
"Mr. Steele-I mean Stirling-isn't there anything you could do for me?"
"Well, honey, I've never seen you at work, but if I was back in circulation, I could distribute your picture to various casting directors, and if you were in Hollywood I could register you with Central Casting, if you can sing-"
"Oh, I can!"
"I might be able to get you an odd job here and there-"
"That's all I ask for!" she said excitedly. "That's all I ask for!"
"Then, honey," I said, "if you ever get out to Hollywood, look me up."
"Oh, I will, I will!"
Sure, they all would. Fortunately, they very seldom did. I was glad I wouldn't be around to see the light in this chick's eyes fade.
"Stirling, you won't forget, now?"
"I promise you-no."
She laughed. "I knew I'd get a break sometime! And I won't let you down! I really do look nice when I fix myself up, and I really do know how to act-I know most of Romeo and Juliet by heart, and-and I really do have nice legs and nice knockers, even if they are a Utile small!"
When she said that, sort of bravely and defiantly, I felt awful, man, awful I
"I'm sure you do, Abby."
"Would you like to hear me recite some Romeo and Juliet, Stirling?"
"Not tonight, honey. I'm too beat to appreciate it. I mean, I might cry or something."
She looked at me pityingly.
"Why, you poor thing," she said after a minute, "I never thought! I guess you're not used to roadwork, huh?"
"You can say that again. I ache in every muscle and bone."
"You know what you need? You need a nice long soak in a tub of deep hot water."
I hadn't heard a sweeter suggestion, it seemed to me, in years. If I ever got thrown into jail again, I just hoped it would be Abby's.
"Lady," I said, "are you making an offer? Because if you aren't, don't torture me!"
"You get right up from that chair and come into the bathroom with me. I have a nice big tub. You be taking your clothes off, and I'll run the water."
I made my first really swift movement in three days, getting up and following her into the bathroom. As she had said, the tub was big, and, true to her word, she got down on her knees and started the water going.
"Well, get undressed!" she said as she adjusted the taps.
Did I understand her correctly? "Here and now?" I asked.
"I told you I'm an R.N., Stirling, and once a married woman as well. Just you pay no attention to me and get undressed, and I'll scrub your back."
I'd sort of looked forward to lying back in the tub and closing my eyes and relaxing all my myself, but I had no real objection to what she was suggesting. Anyway, she was my hostess, wasn't she?
So I undressed. , "My," she said, viewing me up and down, "you are a good-looking man!"
I was embarrassed. Mr. Stirling Steele.
I stepped into the tub. The water was hot. Almost too hot, and I had to struggle like a fool to get myself to go down into it. Oh, I was making a mighty suave impression, I was.
"Feel good?" Abby asked, sitting on the side of the tub.
"I'm being boiled alive!"
"You'll get used to it in a minute."
I doubted that, but I tried to distract myself by grabbing a washcloth and some soap and going to work on my calves and feet. I also tried to distract myself from the fact that Abby could look right down into the clear water. The hot water, my nakedness, and her closeness was doing something to me. I began to feel a certain liveliness, shall we say, that I hadn't noticed during my days and nights of imprisonment. Not since that last time with Flora.
She took another cloth and some soap, dipped the cloth in the water, and began going over my shoulders.
Slowly. Gently. Soothingly.
Then up and down my back.
"I understand you don't have any relatives, Stirling."
"That's right. No wife, no family."
"No steady girl?"
"Not currently. Not for some time."
She moved the washcloth to my chest and moved it up and down. Didn't she know what she was in danger of doing to me?
"I'll bet you chase girls a lot, don't you?" she asked.
"I suppose so," I admitted. "I never thought about it. I just do whatever seems natural."
"I'll bet you give them an awfully good time."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't know, just the looks of you, I guess. I know that the looks of a man can be awfully deceiving sometime, but as a nurse I've seen a few, and I don't want to embarrass you, Stirling, but speaking as a nurse I can state that you've got an awfully good-looking prick."
"Honeychild, I don't want to embarrass you, either, but as a nurse you surely realize what you're in danger of doing when you talk to me like that!"
"What's that?"
"You're in danger of making me get a hard-on, that's what!"
She laughed, and I could tell that she was a little embarrassed, no matter what she said. "I'm sorry, Stirling, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I forget what being locked up for days and then having a nice warm bath can do to a man."
"But now you remember."
"Yes. I remember how easily my late husband would get excited. Maybe that was one reason he stepped out on me so much. Yet," she said thoughtfully, "he always kept me satisfied. He slipped it in me at least once a day, regular as clockwork, and when he wasn't running around, I got it twice a day and sometimes three and four times."
She didn't seem to be paying any attention to me, but her hand was under the water, and she was swishing the washcloth over my belly and thighs.
"Bully for him!" I said hoarsely.
She didn't seem to hear me. Her voice was distant.
"Now, he was the only man I ever had, so I have no basis for comparison, but I guess there aren't many men who could give a loving to a girl any better. He was very strong, see, with big, long, hard muscles. A smooth thick body. And when he took me and started sliding it to me-we're both experienced adults, so I guess I can tell you-when he had me naked on the bed and I had him all inside and he started working it around-"
"Now you've done it! Now you've done it!"
"Done what, Stir-" She broke off as she looked down into the water. "Why, Stirling, I'm so sorry!"
"I warned you, baby!"
"You poor boy, you got into this tub to relax, and here I've been talking like some frustrated old maid, and look what I've done to you! Just look what I've done to you! Is that my fault, Stirling? Well, now, you just relax, honey, and maybe it'll go away!"
"I hope so, sweetheart, I truly hope so!"
"I'm glad that at least you're not embarrassed!"
"Who says I'm not embarrassed?"
"Are you, Stirling?"
"Well, no, I guess not," I said miserably, "seeing as you're a registered nurse and a widow and all that, I'm not embarrassed, I'm just perturbed!"
"I guess I'd better go away and let you relax."
"It's your bathroom."
"I wish I knew a real nice girl you could have some fun with-"
"Please, Abby!"
"Oh, dear, I do keep putting my foot into it, don't I? I'll tell you what. I got some nice clean clothes for you. Now I'm going out and get them ready for you, and I want you to spend fifteen minutes or so just soaking in that tub. All right?"
"All right! Fine!"
She got up from the edge of the tub and went to the door.
"Now, Stirling honey, I'm telling you this as a nurse! I want to relax! You're a big boy now, and I don't want any perturbation in my bathroom!"
"I understand," I said weakly.
She left, leaving the bathroom door wide open.
I lay back in the tub and tried to calm myself.
What did the little minx want from me anyway? A Hollywood career, that was obvious. Was she just teasing me or really trying to seduce me? She didn't look at all like the seductress type, but you never could tell. Maybe she just thought that giving me a thrill would make me more interested in her.
I got my calm back, the old rod finally going limp again. In my state of fatigue, that was easy. In fact, I nearly dozed off, and found my head going under water.
"Stirling? Stirling, are you all right?"
Her voice brought me to full consciousness.
"Yeah, I'm all right."
How long had I been here? It seemed like at least twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.
"Stirling, you want to get out now?"
"Okay. Be right out."
I stood up in the tub, took a thirty-second shower for a rinse, and got out. My clothes were still hanging from a hook, but they were pretty dusty after the day on the road, and Abby had promised me fresh ones. So I just toweled off good and dry, wrapped a fresh towel around my waist, and left the bathroom.
"In here, Stirling."
I followed the sound of her voice.
Into the bedroom.
"Now, you just stand right there and take a look," she said.
She didn't have to tell me. At that instant I had no impulse to do anything else.
The bedroom was rather old-fashioned, frilly, feminine. The only light came from each side of the bed through frilly pink lamp shades. The bed had been turned down, and on the bed sat Abby.
More naked than I.
She was wearing a red negligee, open in front and covering only one breast. Well, not really covering that one, since the negligee was quite transparent. And maybe, as she'd said, her knockers were small, but they were high and round and perfect. The pink nipples seemed to have a life of their own. She was slim-waisted and slender hipped, making the legs that were curled under her look even longer than they were. She'd done something to her eyes to make them look a little more cat-like, and she had on gold earrings, a gold necklace, a gold bracelet. And that was all.
"I got the impression," she said shakily, "that you didn't think I could compete at sexy poses. I got the impression that you thought I didn't look nice enough."
"Baby, I never said that." I sounded as shaky as she did.
"I don't mind undressing. I wouldn't mind posing for pictures. What do you think now? What do you honestly think?"
I walked toward the bed. "Mind if I look some more?"
"Look all you want to!" she said defiantly.
She lay back on the bed, flat on her back, pulling a bit of the negligee halfway over her loins and holding it with her fingertips. The pink light from the lamps flooded over the one naked breast, over her bare belly, and penetrated the flimy cloth. She put the back of a hand on her forehead and looked out from under it at me.
"What do you think?" she asked again in a small voice.
"What do I think?"
"Am I pretty enough?"
"You're beautiful."
"Attractive enough?"
"Magnetic."
She hesitated. "Sexy enough?"
"Irresistible."
She looked away from me. After a moment, she slowly pulled away the bit of negligee that covered her below the waist.
"I guess you know that I'd do just about anything for a chance at Hollywood," she said softly.
I guess that any decent, honorable, upright man would have run away at that point. But have you ever met one?
The most that could be said for me was that I was upright again, hard and throbbing.
I at once threw my towel-clad bottom onto the bed, leaned over Abby, and caught a handful of soft, hard-nippled breast. As I kissed her, her hand swept up under my towel and caught me. All my uprighteousness and hardness and throbbingness.
Her kiss was eager, really too eager, the eagerness of fright.
"Look, honey," I said, "I can't make you any promises of stardom or anything like that! All I can do is what I said I'd do. If you ever come out to the coast, I'll represent you. I'll try to do a good job-"
"That's all I ask!"
Then I kissed her again, my hand sweeping her body from her breasts to her thighs, seeking all sensitive points, and she yanked my towel completely off.
"Oh, you do want me, you do want me!"
"I do want you!"
"Oh, hurry, hurry !"
"No, baby, not yet!"
I knew she was genuinely excited, but I thought that, aside from that, she was actually eager to get the whole transaction over with. She had a surprise in store for me.
"But I haven't had any hocking for over a year!" she said.
"Why you poor baby!"
"I got so used to it, getting poked everyday, and then-nothing! nothing! nothing!"
"You poor sweet!"
"Every night I go crazy, crazy, crazy!"
The way she was romping in my arms she was in danger of tearing her negligee to tatters, but that seemed to be the least of her worries, so it didn't worry me. She wanted a slicing, she was going to get one.
I played her like a one-man band from the neck to the knees.
I stroked her, I petted her, I caressed her.
I kissed, her, I tasted her, I nibbled at every single place I thought she could get a thrill.
"Oh, take me, honey," she choked and sobbed, "I want you, I want to get mine now!"
So at last I got over her.
But then she balked.
"No!"
"What's wrong?"
"I'm scared!"
I laughed and stroked her soothingly, gradually getting closer.
"You want me to now, baby?" She didn't answer.
She hardly seemed to notice as I slipped it to her. Then she started crying.
But not from pain or frustration or disappointment.
"Oh, you're all the way, all the way!" she sobbed. "Too far?"
"Oh no, oh no! Oh, I can't stand it!"
Then she went over, nearly taking me with her. "Hurry!" she rasped. "Hurry up, finish! I can't stand it!"
I made her stand it.
For the next ten minutes, I made her stand it.
I'd had plenty that had lasted longer, but few if any that topped that one in sheer quality. I mean, little Abby had some art of her own. Why didn't she realize that she didn't need to' go to Hollywood for self-expression? She expressed herself quite beautifully right at home in her own bed.
Then the ten minutes ended.
In a beautiful blaze. The bed rocking. The springs playing a symphony. A fiery culmination that brought us both to panting, gasping, spurting, laughing relief.
CHAPTER FOUR
Honey," she sighed, "that was good."
"I'm glad."
"Did you have a good time, too?"
"Oh, baby!"
"You sure seemed to, the way you were going to town, there."
She'd thrown the red negligee off, and one earring was missing, and she was the picture of female satisfaction.
"I went to town all right," I said. "Baby, you sure know how to use that tight little snapper."
Sloe-eyed, she smiled at me with pleasure. "If I did anything wrong, you've got to remember that you're only the second man I've ever had."
"You did nothing wrong!"
"Whatever I might say against my late husband, I guess he did give me some good training."
"No, baby, when it comes to making love, you're a natural. You're a genius. You were born for it."
She took a deep breath and sighed again. "You say such nice things. And you really do think I'm good looking and attractive and sexy and all that?"
"I really do. You're about the sexiest little thing I've come across in a long, long time."
"Maybe that's because I enjoy it so much. I guess I enjoy feeling sexy and doing sexy things and getting good service more than just about anything else in the world, when all is said and done."
"Who doesn't?"
"Lot's of people, it seems like. But I figure, what the hell, you can't buck nature. And why should I want to, when doing the natural thing is so much fun?"
"Exactly my philosophy." All inhibitions between us were swept away now.
"I honestly don't know how I held out so long after my husband got killed. A whole year and more! And it's not like I didn't have any chances. Why, Moose Muggins has been after me lots, and he's famous! I guess most of the fellas I meet around here just don't appeal to me enough."
And, I thought, none of them, not even Moose, had offered her a chance at Hollywood.
"You really don't think I'm a bad girl?" she asked-almost inevitably.
"Of course not. I think you're a very understanding girl."
"Oh, I do like you!" she said, reaching for the old rod and stroking it.
And naturally I stroked back. "Stirling," she whispered before long. "Yes, baby?"
"Do you know what's nice?"
"I know all kinds of nice things, baby."
She laughed softly. "Lets try this. We just go on laying on our sides, facing each other, at a kind of an angle ... and I lay my leg up over your hip like this ... and now ... can you get closer to me? That's right, now you've got it, now you're there, keep going, keep going, oh!"
I slid a hand over one of her buttocks, a hand over one breast.
"Now we just lie here for a while and feel good," she crooned. "Isn't this nice...?"
After that, I had it made.
For instance, breakfast in bed.
"Now, don't you get up, Stirling! After last night, you must be plumb tuckered out. You get your rest, you hear me?"
Then when she got back from cooking the morning grits:
"Stirling honey, you feel better now? You feel all rested?"
"I feel fine!"
"My word-tee-hee-I was naughty last night!"
"You were wonderful!"
"I never knew I was capable of such goings-on!"
"You had a good time, didn't you?"
"Oh, did I! And don't you tell me you didn't!"
"Sweetie, you were the greatest. The absolute greatest!"
"You all recovered now?"
"I don't know, but I'm inclined to think so."
"Let's find out."
She leaned over me as I sat up in bed and gave me a kiss. A passionate kiss. A torrid kiss. And as she kissed me, she sent a loving hand under the sheet.
I reacted. Like an old fire horse that hears the bell, I reacted.
"Oh, I'll say you're recovered!" she said, her fingers lovingly at work.
Then suddenly a funny look came into her eyes. Her mouth opened wider and her head raised as if she were badly in need of oxygen.
"Oh, honey!" she panted. "Oh, honey! I'm so naughty! I'm so wicked!"
I knew what she needed. And I didn't waste any time getting her dress off. Fortunately, her dress was the only thing she had on.
"I don't think I'll ever catch up!" she sobbed as I pulled her onto the bed.
Maybe not, but I was going to give her every chance I could to try. Kind-hearted soul that I was, I took her again, while she panted praises to my stud-hood. It makes a man feel good to know that he's appreciated.
That evening I managed to gather up enough strength to pay a call on Lacey.
"Ah," he said, "the answer to the maiden's prayer. I must say that that was a long dinner engagement."
"You are now looking at the new Assistant Chief Cook and Bottle Washer."
He looked pleased. "We progress! I take it for granted that you'll soon find an excellent assignment for your old buddy? You won't let your rise to success obscure our long and deep-felt friendship?"
"I'll do my best," I promised, "but I can guarantee nothing."
He groaned. "I know. Don't call me, I'll call you. What a pal you are. And after I practically shoved you out of this cell and into the lady's arms."
I looked around quickly. Most of the jailbird's were on the floor below us, but there were a couple down the line which were occupied, and I didn't think it would be wise for too many people to know about my new role and status.
"Look, old buddy," Lacey went on, "I'm serious. You've only been in this joint a few days, and you know what a drag this roadwork is-"
"Great for your physical well-being-"
"Oh, sure, you're absolutely right. But I've had about all the physical well-being I can take! I've been here a week and a half. Now, I saw right off that the little lady took to you-what kind of hustler are you if you can't set up a deal for the both of us?"
"I'll try, Lacey, I'll try! But if you knew the length and breadth and depth of my duties, if you knew their total extent and the strain they put me under, if you knew the miserable hours I keep-"
"You're breaking my heart!"
"I'll visit you often."
"You're so kind."
"Shall I bring flowers?"
"Get out of here!"
When I'd spoken to Lacey about my duties and the strain they put me under, I wasn't altogether joking. But I figured that according to the law I owed a debt to society, and even if I'd been framed, I was determined to pay that debt. Yes, sir, I would pay Abby Billings in full! What she wanted, I would slip to her!
I, by George, would pay with such a good attitude that paying would be a pleasure! And I wouldn't even ask for time off for good behavior!
Since my duties kept me so busy, it was a matter of practical convenience for me to sleep, not in my cell, but down in Abby's apartment. I did not complain about the fact that there was only one bed. The bed was none too large, but I made do. I was more than willing to rough it. After all, a man who is in jail must expect to put up with some hardships.
And in the weeks that followed, I had more hardships per day than I'd ever had before in my life.
"Stirling, you just don't know how nice it is to have a man around the place again!"
"I'm so glad you're happy, dear."
"And to loll around naked with you like this! Why, the way I'm letting my work slip, I'm so ashamed! The prisoners are beginning to complain about the quality of the grits!"
"Poor, poor devils."
"I feel like I'm on my honeymoon again, a nicer honeymoon than I ever had!"
I never liked to hear a dame start talking about honeymoons or anything related thereto, but I managed to smile.
"With my late husband out working or playing around with other women, we never did play around the way you and I do. And even though he kept me satisfied, we sure didn't make love as often."
"Which reminds me ... Come here, baby."
"Oh ... oo ... ee ... ah ... !"
"Like that?"
"Oh, I'm being so naughty!"
"Not naughty, sweetheart. Just natural."
"I don't care what you call it! I like it! Do you like this, Stirling?"
"Oh ... oo ... ee ... ah...!"
Cough, cough! Choke, choke!
"Oh-" choke, cough "-you do like that!"
"Sweet lips, you suck so well!"
"My late husband never wanted me to do that."
"He didn't know what he was missing!"
"You've surely taught me a lot, Stirling honey."
"Don't be silly, honeypot! You've got genius! Sheer genius!"
"You want your little honeypot now?"
"Oh, do I! Does my honeypot want her big Stirling?"
"Oh, yes! I never want to stop doing this! Oh, come on, honey, all the way! Oh, you are such a beautiful lollypop, you are such a good strong...."
Yes, my duties were rigorous. Lacy thought he was getting a workout, but little did he realize how I was losing weight and getting into athletic trim. I tried to tell him.
"Athletic trim?" he said. "You mean you've got two girls down there? Couldn't you at least have sent the trim chick up to me?"
At times I thought his mind was cracking.
It was about five days after I got my deal with Abby that Lacey came up with his scheme. We'd had the lad down for dinner, and afterward we sat around and smoked fine old panetelas and drank aft-er-dinner port-ah, the Spartan jailhouse life I was leading-while Abby went out to visit with some girl friends. After all, she and I couldn't spend all our time playing sex games.
"Stirling, my friend," Lacey said, "the mind has been at work."
"Hey nonny nonny," I replied politely.
"The wheels have turned, the cogs had ground, and some finely wrought conclusions have poured out of the old mill."
"And a hot-cha-cha," I said with interest.
"Kiddo, we haven't been playing our cards right."
"Oh? I was under the impression that I'd been playing my cards quite well lately. Of course, I'm sorry that you've been confined to games of solitaire."
"I haven't even been left with the energy for that," said he with a sigh, "but you miss my drift. I speak of the period prior to our being chucked into this oubliette."
"So what have you got in mind?"
"Stir baby, neither of us has left an exactly memorable imprint upon the sands of time."
"Nor writ anything upon the stars."
"Correct. Many a boob has been pinched and many a tippy pulled, but we've been lucky to get a gulp of the milk before some other hustler grabbed the cream."
I thought of Payson Terhune, who had grabbed several of my clients, and I silently agreed. But I liked my line of work. You met so many interesting people.
"Yet," Lacey went on, sleepy-eyed but with that switchblade mind whittling away, "I am not entirely without funds at this sad stage of my life. I've always been a boy for holding back a certain small reserve. Mad money. Blow money. Call it what you will."
"I have a small stake," I admitted, "if that's what you're angling for."
"Glad to hear it. Stir baby, that means we can set up a partnership and start a new grift."
"I'm not sure I want a new grift-"
"Look, you want to pull in some loot, don't you?"
He had hit upon a sensitive point. I did indeed, as he so poetically put it, want to pull in some loot.
"So what's the angle?"
"One of our biggest troubles has been that we've tried to handle one or two or a half-dozen moneymakers at a time, and the bigger the money-maker, the better."
"So what's wrong with that?"
"What's wrong is that it simply hasn't paid off in the long run. It's very fine if you have a stable income, which we have never had-and don't give me any of that Famous Stars I Have Promoted jazz, because I wrote the book. You know and I know that a big-time percenter gets all his expenses on top of his ten per, but you and I have had to put up a lot of our ten to keep going, and we've invested exorbitant amounts of time as well, and again and again we've been reduced to nickles and dimes."
He was hitting at my ego, but he was talking about himself as well as about me, so I clenched my teeth and listened.
"Wrong, Stirling?" he asked, as if to drive the point home.
"Right, Lacey," I admitted frankly.
"So what's wrong with clients who'll pay all their own expenses?"
"Not a thing, buddy boy."
"And what's wrong with clients who'll pay us for the very privilege of being handled by us?"
"You mean, if we do or don't get work for them-"
"That's exactly what I mean!"
I stared at him over my cigar and my port. "You're crazy! An agent can't bring in the work, that means the contract is voided. And then the talent is free to go to any other agent-"
"If any other agent will take the talent!"
I stared at him some more. What he was saying called for quite a bit of staring, and I can stare with the best of them.
"What are you suggesting, Lacey?"
"Come on, baby, where's that whiplash brain of yours?"
"Screwed to death. Let me get this straight. We take on talent that no other agent wants, and this talent pays us to represent it...?"
"Now you're cranking, Flash Gordon!"
"Stacey ... would that be quite ethical?"
"Ethical!" For once sleepy-eyed Lacey Maross looked like a bug-eyed monster. "You, Stirling Steele, are asking me, Lacey Maross, if it would be ethical to help all that unknown talent out there in movieland to bring itself to the attention of the world's greatest producers of motion pictures and television and Broadway musicals? And for nothing more than a lousy thousand dollar initiation fee, expenses, and a percentage in case by some strange chance one of them were to click? You are asking me if it would be ethical to give all those poor lost souls a chance to make their dreams come true? Don't you realize that there are thousands upon thousands of good-looking young gals, not to mention all those unmentionable stud-hustling boys, who would do anything to get a crack at Hollywood, and you're asking me if merely asking a percentage plus our expenses plus a small investment in the future would be ethical-"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute!"
Oh, the beauty of it all!
What Lacey was proposing was no penny-ante grift. No secretive hit-town, hit-the-road con game. He was talking about an out-in-the-open business.
"We could even advertise," I said.
"I see that you have at last grasped the concept!" he said delightedly.
"Why, we wouldn't even accept just anybody."
"Of course not," he said with scorn, "not for a thousand dollars, not for ten thousand dollars! Only the most talented, only those with the most determination! Why, we'd have nothing to hide-"
"I keep my L.A. office, such as it is, alive. We reopen your New York office-"
"Certainly, certainly!"
"But first of all we open an office in the Midwest. A reasonably central location-"
"Where all the young Thespians can get to us easily!"
"We're tough on 'em, Lacey! You don't get anywhere in show biz if you don't work! We make 'em read the monthly newsletter."
"And study! And write us a report on their activities every two or three months!"
"Yes, by cracky, we demand that they keep us up to date! But won't the correspondence take quite a bite out of our thousand? I mean, we'll also have office expenses-"
"A thousand the first year, a hundred bucks a year thereafter. Slightly more on the installment plan. They can furnish us with pictures, or we can arrange for them to be taken. There must be genuine auditions, of course, held in a swank office-"
"With a genuine casting couch."
"Absolutely!"
"And we really will circulate the pictures among producers-"
"But of course! Again and again and again! Until they wear out!"
"A professional dossier on each of our clients-"
"The National Star Registry, Stirling. How do you like that for a name? Serving every major studio and all independents. Questionaire: Would you be willing to fly to Rome at studio expense to work with Sophia Loren or Gregory Peck? Check one."
"Lacey, it's beautiful!"
"Isn't it, though? Isn't it a joy, Stirling? Doesn't it just make you want to cry?"
When Abby returned, she gave Lacey a set of keys so that he could get back to his cell again. He said he'd have us up to dinner some evening, and we bade him good night and went to bed.
I told Abby all about the National Star Registry, serving every major studio and all independents.
Well, not all about it.
"You see, honey," I said as I lay there flat on my back while she made like she was picking roses, "it's just as I told you, cracking Hollywood is the hardest thing in the world. A lot of people never get a chance. Now, granted plenty of them don't quite have the talent, and very few have the talent you have, but don't they at least deserve a chance? Just a skinny little chance? A chance to have producers see their pictures and learn about their talent?"
"Why, sure, hooey," Abby said, and I paused for a moment to enjoy the rose-picking.
"Pretend you're a little mousy," she said, and I pretended. "Mmm, that's nice. Go on, Stirling honey."
"Lacey and I have been thinking about this idea for a long, long time. We'd like to cut down the odds which are against the average kid who wants to be a star. Why, if we were rich, we'd finance their careers out of our own pockets !"
"But I guess you're not quite rich, are you, sweetie?"
"Well, not quite. So you see, whether we want to or not, we-ah-have to charge a little something."
"Like how much?"
"A thousand dollars initiation fee and a hundred dollars a year thereafter."
She gasped. "My goodness! That much?"
"Honey, promoting a movie star is an expensive business. And what's a thousand dollars or so when an actor-or an actress like you-stands to make millions?"
"Well, I guess when you put it like that...."
"If we charged something like a piddling ten-buck fee, who'd believe we could do him any good?"
"I would," she said in a small voice. "Stirling, you're not going to charge me any thousand dollar fee, are you? I mean, my late husband didn't leave me any insurance or anything, and I just ain't-haven't-got it!"
Why did this chick tug at my heartstrings? It wasn't fair. Why, what had I ever done to her?
"Don't you worry, Gobblety-Snookums," I said, "your old doggy daddy will take care of his snuggly-wuggly pussy kitty."
Isn't that sickening? Simply sickening?
But I took time out to take care of her. And I can't honestly say that I enjoyed doing so any less than I had the first time. I mean, when a young lady enjoys herself the way Abby enjoyed herself, you just can't help enjoying yourself too.
"Oh, I'm so naughty!" she moaned. "And you feel so nice ... and so warm ... and so hard ... and long."
Now, doesn't that do things to the cockles of your heart? Doesn't it, though? Could any man help but be charmed by such appreciation and gratitude?
I was really going to hate cutting out on this busy little body.
When passion had run its course, I got back to business.
"As I was saying...."
"Yes, honey bear, what were you saying?"
"Lacey and I want to get our National Star Registry into operation just as soon as possible after we get out of here."
"Well, naturally!"
"In fact, it would be helpful to us if we could lay down a lot of the groundwork before we got out of here."
"I don't see how in the world you could do that, Stirling."
"Oh, there's lots of preliminary work we could be doing. We have plenty of details to work out yet, details of organization and procedure. We have to plan our publicity campaign so that everybody will know about the Registry. Why, we could even be running advertisements announcing the new Midwestern office we plan to open up! That way, the minute we got out of here we could start offering our services to the public. Even before!"
"Well, now," she said thoughtfully.
"You managed to get me off the road so I could be your assistant. Maybe if you could get Lacey relieved of his present duties-he'd still be doing productive labor you know. Actually, he'd be adding a lot more to the Gross National Product than he is at present."
"I don't quite know what that means-" neither did I "-but I suppose you're right. Maybe if I talked to some important people I know...."
"We'd be so greatful, baby doll!"
"It wouldn't be as if you weren't still in jail. And working."
"Hard!"
"And, you know, I'll bet I could help you out a lot! Because I know accounting and shorthand and typing!"
"Hey, now! How 'bout that!"
"We could turn the cell next to Lacey's into an office!"
"Baby, what a grand idea!"
"If you wanted a telephone, you'd have to pay to have it installed !"
"Oh, we wouldn't mind!"
"Stirling, I'm so excited!"
"So soon?"
"No, I don't mean that way, I mean-"
She broke off as I kissed her, rolled her onto her back, slid my naked body against hers, drew at a nipple....
"Oh, honey," she said, "I guess I do mean that way!"
And then we celebrated.
The next day Abby disappeared for a while during the afternoon, and I got some rest which, I must confess, I rather badly needed.
When she returned, she had-
"Good news, Stirling!"
"What ho, baby doll!"
"I've been talking to Judge Hawkins." Judge! For once the word had a promising ring about it.
"The judge is a sort of friend of mind, and about the most influential person around here. I mean, what Judge Hawkins says, generally goes-"
"The boss, huh?"
"That's just about right. Well, she'd heard about you boys being in jail here, and she was pretty interested-"
"Wait a minute. She?"
"That's right. Oh, I forgot, you wouldn't know. Minerva Hawkins isn't really a judge, but her husband was. He was the richest man in this county, and he sort of ran things. Then when he kicked off, Minerva got all his money and a lot of the influence that went with it, and I guess that's why we call her the Judge, same as we did her hubby."
"And she's a friend of yours, you say?"
"That's right. And she'd like to meet you boys. If you make a good impression on her, she can fix it so's you and Lacey can go right to work on your National Star Registry."
What more could I ask?
"That's grand, baby doll, just grand! When do we get to meet this dame?"
"She said she could come over here tomorrow evening. I'll go out and get a supply of booze, and the four of us will have a little party."
"Fine!" The old brain was working with fevered efficiency. "Now, we want to make a good impression, honey, and prison togs weren't exactly designed for that. Do you think you could get Lacey's and my regular clothes out of wherever they're locked up and get 'em cleaned and pressed-"
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, honey pie. The Judge don't-doesn't-stand on formality. Matter of fact, she has a kind of reputation for being a real fun gal."
"A fun gal?" This didn't fit in with my concept of a woman who was referred to as the Judge.
"Yup. When you're as rich as Minerva Hawkins, you can pretty much do as you please, and people don't say anything worse about you than that you're a mite eccentric."
"Eccentric?"
"It's just that some people might consider Minerva a bit long in the tooth to like partying around the way she does, and they tell a lot of stories about her, probably not more than half-true. But she can be a lot of fun when she's in the mood, and she's not a bad-looking gal for her age, not really. I'm sure Lacey will like her."
"What about me? Will I like her?"
Abby looked a touch worried if not embarrassed. "I don't know. I hope not too much. Anyway, the thing is, I sort of gave her the impression that Lacey would be her date, and you'll be mine, and that Lacey might-well-give her a pretty good time. Do you think that he'll mind?"
I thought about Lacey out working on the road.
"No, baby," I said. "I don't think Lacey will mind at all. I think Lacey will be delighted."
"That's good. Because we've got to please Minerva. We've got to do just about anything she wants. You understand?"
I wasn't sure I did, but I was beginning to, as Abby slipped into my arms and started drawing up her skirt from between us.
"I understand," I said, and I kissed her.
"This Minerva is a pretty swinging gal, huh?" I asked a moment later.
"Never mind Minerva," she said, breathing heavily and tugging at my belt. "How come you've got your pants on?"
CHAPTER FIVE
"OKAY, KIDS, BREAK OUT THE HOOTCH! THE JUDGE is here, and it's a swinging night tonight."
Minerva Hawkins appeared to be already half-fractured when she arrived.
She gave Lacey a huge smacking kiss immediately upon being introduced to him.
"Whee, what a cute little Kewpie doll you are, Lacey, baby! I do go for a little Kewpie doll like you!"
Lacey looked a bit overwhelmed, and I didn't blame him. This was his date? This was the "dear old judge" he was supposed to give a good time?
Minerva Hawkins was quite a bit taller than Lacey, almost as tall as me. She was on the slender side, but not in the breastworks department-they swung high on her chest like big ripe gourds. She didn't have much on the bottom side, but as far as I could tell she was round and firm, and her long legs were sleek and shapely.
As Abby had said, she was a bit long in the teeth-literally. Not that I'd say she was actually horse-faced. She'd been an attractive girl, and now, in her early to middle forties, she still had a lot to offer.
"Come on, kids, I want to hear that ice bucket shake, rattle, and roll! But I don't want you boys to drink too much-I don't mind a fella getting stiff, but not if he goes limp! Haw!"
It turned out to be quite a night.
Minerva-the Judge-sprawled out comfortably in a chair, one leg up over an arm, her skirt halfway up her thighs, a drink in her hand.
"Abby told me something about this National Star Registry of yours-"
"International," I corrected her. I'd been dreaming bigger dreams.
"International Star Registry! Tell me more!"
We told her. As diplomatically as possible. A skeptical twinkle in her gray eyes suggested that she wasn't taken in as much as Abby was, but she didn't ask any embarrassing questions.
"Sounds great. You boys spent a lotta time with them big movie stars and all, huh?"
"Well," Lacey said hesitantly, "that is our business-"
"Lord, lord, how them people do carry on! Getting married and divorced! Sleeping with each other's wives! Making love to a different guy or a different gal every night! Holding them sex parties and orgies and stuff-"
"Oh, Hollywood isn't all like that," I suggested.
"Yeah, but the most interesting part is! I read all about it! Boy, how them people live! Hey, tell me all about it, huh?"
"Well ... what do you want to know-?"
"Is it true that Rock Longyard is the best stud in Hollywood. Is it true that no one man can satisfy Nigeria Poitrine, not even Rock Longyard? Is it true that Susie Swansdown is going to divorce Teddy Logjam because Teddy is shacking up with Teresa Torrid, who is married to Rock Longyard, and Rock is spending his nights with Susie? Come on, fellas, give me the latest dirt!"
We did the best we could. In the trade, there are always rumors as to who is sleeping with who and who's been seduced by who and what little group is throwing sex parties and so forth. They don't have to be true to entertain people like Minerva. I could remember a few stories, but I was truly amazed by Lacey's repertoire, and he knew how to elaborate on them in order to titlillate Minerva to the greatest extent. So I started feeding my own yarns to him-"Tell her about Jackson and Belinda!"-and he built them up until I hardly recognized them.
"Lord, lord," Minerva chortled, "those people sure are wicked! Is it true that Sally Sitlow took on six different men at a party to find out which one of them was the best stud?"
"It certainly is-your little Lacey here came in second!"
"Haw, haw, haw, haw, why you naughty boy! Tell me all about it! My, isn't it getting hot in here? Let's all unbutton a little!"
Minerva wasn't satisifed to listen to stories of Hollywood depravity all evening. The time came when she said, "Let's play some games! Spin-the-milk bottle! Get a bottle of some kind, Abby! Everybody down on the floor for Spin-the-milk-bottle!"
"I'm afraid I've forgotten the rules," Lacey said.
"Don't worry, honey, I make 'em up as I go along!"
So we played Spin-the-milk bottle, the four of us on our knees. I was facing Lacey, Abby was on my right, and Minerva was on my left.
The first couple of spins pointed to nobody. Then a spin pointed to Lacey, and another to Abby.
"Haw! You gotta kiss!" Minerva commanded.
The kiss was quite chaste, but I'll admit I felt a twinge of jealousy.
"That's no way to do it! Give it to'er good, Lacey. give it to'er good! When my turn comes, I'll show you how!"
The next turn belonged to Minerva and Lacey, and she "gave il to 'm good." Then Minerva and I had a chance, and I felt as if I were being raped. The next turn fell to Abby and me, and we did a fair job.
"Gotta get some spice into the game," Minerva said. "The first one the bottle points to gets to take an article of clothing off the other party. Then they kiss. Okay?"
"A striptease game?" Abby asked nervously. "Sure! Get some spice into the game!" So that was the way we played it. On the first round Minerva took off my shirt and kissed me vigorously. On the next, I took off her right shoe. Then her left. Then I unhooked and peeled down her right stocking. On the next couple of turns, Lacy took off one of Abby's shoes and Minerva's remaining stocking. Abby took off both of my shoes. Minerva took off my socks. I took off Minerva's dress.
And so it went. Or rather, and so our clothes went.
Lacey was the first to lose all his clothes, when Abby took off his shorts. The kiss they exchanged was far less-well-active than those that Minerva was handing out to both Lacey and me, but I did think that Abby was showing a mite more enthusiasm for the game.
"Whee, now we're getting there!" Minerva cheered as I took off her bra, and she brought my palms to a hard nipple and kissed me with a wild tongue.
On the next turn Lacey took off Minerva's panties, and she in her clowning way acted as if it were the thrill of her life.
"Oh, Lacey honey! You got me jaybird naked now! Oh, honey, you're turning me on!"
We all tried to keep up with her spirited outcries and little jokes. Luckily, the liquor we had in us made that fairly easy. Keeping fairly cool was easy too, except for when Abby and I kissed, because I wasn't altogether used to this kind of fun and games.
I got the next turn, and then the bottle pointed at Minerva.
"I get to spin again since you're already stripped," I said.
"Oh no! This means I get to strip you!"
She did a loving job of taking my shorts off-my last stitch of clothing.
"Well, look at Stirling! Isn't he something? Hi, there, Stirling, aren't you the cutest cock in creation?"
She did her best to arouse me, running her hands over my buttocks and thighs; but, liquor or no liquor, I was jittery enough that I kept control.
But then, on our knees on the floor, we kissed.
She slowly moved her torso against mine.
Enlivened flesh moved over soft smooth flesh, in plain view of all, and Lacey applauded wildly.
"Now, that's more like it!" Minerva said happily.
Abby looked a little bit flushed and her smile was strained, and I gritted my teeth against the possibility that Lacey would win the privilege of removing her panties and then kissing her, both of them in the raw. He'd managed not to become excited, but after a thing like that, I knew he would be.
But luck was with me. I won. And I tried to remove her panties in a manner that would suggest that I was sorry that I'd become excited because of Minerva rather than her. We kissed, and our kiss was fervent, her body rubbing against mine, and yet-you know how it is-I sensed a certain restraint, a certain holding back, on her part.
"Wowee!" cheered Minerva. "New rules now! We do our kissing in the bedroom! But the kissers don't get to stay in there more than two minutes or they might get interrupted!"
On the very first pair of spins, Abby and Lacey got sent into the bedroom-alone and stark naked. The door closed behind them.
"We know what you're doing!" Minerva cheered, urging me to join her. "We know what you're doing!"
In exactly two minutes the door opened, and Abby came out. Lacey followed her. He had lipstick on his mouth, and his last trace of cool was gone. I mean he was really turned on.
I thought that Abby had a faintly smug look on her face.
Then Lacey went into the bedroom with Minerva. "Must have had yourself quite a time," I said coldly.
"All we did was play the game," she said innocently.
"Oh, yeah? We're just trying to please Minerva, remember? You didn't really have to kiss Lacey!"
"Honey, are you jealous? We have to look like we're enjoying ourselves, remember? We have to please Minerva-"
"You must have enjoyed yourself all right!"
"Honey, all we did was kiss, and Lacey got excited. It didn't mean a thing." She seemed quite pleased by my jealous reaction. "Honestly, baby, you just wait until I get you alone in there. Cone on now, shout-We know what you're doing! We know what you're doing!"
The next turn belonged to Abby and me, and she saw to it that there was no chance for further discussion. I forgot to watch the clock, and the other pair burst in on us.
Then Abby had another two-minute session with Lacey.
I'll kill him, I thought.
And the following two-minutes belonged to Minerva and me.
She rolled me all over the bed, while outside the door I heard Lacey and Abby chanting: "We know what you're doing! We know what you're doing!"
"Ah, honey!" Minerva giggled. "Isn't this fun? Isn't this wicked? Kiss me, honey, pet me-ah, that's right!"
In exactly two minutes, she bounced off the bed and I followed her. By now I was so worked up I wondered how long I'd last.
"New rules!" Minerva announced. "No more shouting. And from now on, whoever goes into the bedroom gets to stay there just as long as they wish!"
As luck would have it, Minerva and I at once took another trip to the bedroom.
"Be right out" I said feebly to Lacey and Abby, a kind of warning.
"Don't count on it!" Minerva giggled.
It was a rough five minutes. Minerva more than readied me, and I could hardly do other than the same for her.
What were Lacey and Abby up to? I kept thinking.
"Oh, honey!" Minerva moaned. "You could rape me so easy right now if you wanted to!"
"Not yet!" I panted desperately. "Let's keep the game going a while! Let's keep it going!"
Finally I got her out of that bedroom.
Lacey and Abby didn't look as if they had been doing anything. I hoped I was interpreting the fact that Lacey looked cool in the right way.
On the next round, he and Abby went into the bedroom.
Minerva was at once on top of me.
"Come on," she said, sweeping me over onto my back on the sofa and grabbing at my rod.
I tried to seem cooperative. It wasn't too difficult.
Finally she groaned, "Oh, I want to!"
I knew I should. Really, what was Abby to me? Just a habit. An angle to be played. But I didn't like the idea of her going over to Lacey. Some habits are hard to break.
Sol
"Not yet, baby, not yet!"
"Don't you want me?"
"Baby, can't you tell? But they'll be out of there any minute now-"
"They'll be there the rest of the night!"
"I doubt that," I said, afraid she was right. She sighed. "You must be gone on Abby."
"Minerva, you're the most attractive-"
"Skip it, I understand."
She went cold in my arms, and I was afraid I'd blown the deal.
She grinned at me. "You may change your mind, you know, when Abby gets through with Lacey."
But in exactly five minutes Abby and Lacey walked out of the bedroom. And there was no question about Lacey being cool now.
"Spin the bottle!" Minerva said, and down we got on our knees.
The bottle pointed to Minerva.
She spun it again, and I held my breath.
It pointed at Abby.
Abby spun it again. I was going blue in the face. Lacey breathed again, and we got up from the floor.
"Come on, honey!" Minerva said, and she dragged Lacey toward the bedroom. He was easy to drag. She shoved him through the door and looked back at us.
"Don't expect us out soon!" she said. Then she kicked a heel, went through the doorway, and shut the door.
Abby and I stood there for a minute, and she gazed at my hard-on. And smiled.
"I guess you and Minerva didn't."
"Did you think we would?"
"I guess I couldn't have blamed you much-since it's so important to please her."
"I guess you and Lacey didn't, either."
She shook her head. "He wanted to, but I told him he'd better save all he had for Minerva."
I pulled her into my arms. "I guess you wanted to, too."
"Like they say-I'm only human."
"Want to screw now?"
"Oh, yes," she said, closing her eyes and pulling me back onto the sofa. "Unless you think you should save it for her."
I didn't even bother to answer that. I just slipped it to Abby. In spite of being so worked up, I managed to last, and I rode her high, I rode her low, and I rode her clear out over the edge, and away we went, plunging into the pulsating fires of fulfillment....
I was worried about what Minerva might think of next. Like switching partners. Like performing in front of each other. But I needn't have been, not that night.
She and Lacey didn't come out of the bedroom until Abby had made breakfast, and by that time nobody had any strength left.
But our party had pulled the trick. Lacey didn't report to the road gang that day, and he never had to go back again. Gone were his days of physical labor.
Of course, he had some mighty strenuous nights during the next few weeks.
By and large, all went well after that. We worked out the details of our new business, and decided where its midwestern headquarters would be.
Now, I don't think I should tell you the town we decided upon. There, as in Flora Bedwise's hometown, certain political pressures came into play, and my lawyers advised me that I'd be smart to allow this particular point to remain obscure in this narrative. I've pointed out that anyone who wishes to, can find out what Flora Bedwise's hometown is, if they have any idea at all of whom I've been writing. I've also pointed out that millions of people will remember the Registry to which I've been referring, thanks to our newspaper advertisements.
They still say to keep my mouth shut.
I will simply say, then, that for various strategic purposes we selected a fair-sized city with some excellent views of one of the most magnificent rivers on the North American continent.
With her strong personal interest in our well-being, I wasn't at all surprised when Abby insisted that she was going to help us. I was surprised when she revealed a distinct flair for business organization and management, fields in which I am not notably strong.
"Don't you fellas have any idea at all of how to set up an accounting system? Don't you know anything at all about setting up a partnership or a corporation?"
We didn't. She did.
And before long I began to fear that the mouse might try to ring herself in as a partner.
Lacey was good at writing publicity copy and advertisements. He announced that our big midwestern office would soon be open and that our L.A. office was already receiving applications, though not granting interviews as yet. We selected certain city papers, and out went our propaganda.
True to her word, Abby saw to it that a cell-a couple of cells, as a matt-er-of-fact-became an office. A phone was installed. Judge Minerva Hawkins somewhere cottoned onto a brand new electric typewriter. Letterheads were printed up, and we rolled, man, we rolled.
Since I'd gained access to Abby's apartment, we would never have had too difficult a time in cracking out of the joint, and we would have had even less difficulty now. Therefore you may ask-why didn't we?
And I answer-why should we have cracked out?
After my first three days in the clink, I had a good deal. Not long afterward, so did Lacey. And now we were eating and drinking and residing in this establishment for nothing, absolutely nothing! We'd never had it so good!
Working hard and fast, we made rapid progress in spite of the many extra little chores which Abby and Minerva demanded of us, and by the date of our release, we were all but ready to go into active business full tilt. All we'd have to do was say ta-ta to the ladies, pick up our suitcases, and dash for the station. As soon as we got to our new HQ town, we'd find a good suite of offices, rent and furnish them, and start counting our money.
So I thought.
I hadn't considered how Abby would feel about that.
The day before we were to be chucked out into the cold cruel world, I found her packing. "I'm going with you," she said. "But, baby doll-"
"Out of sight, out of mind, that's what I'm afraid of. And you're my big chance-"
"But how could I ever forget you!"
"Maybe you wouldn't," she admitted, "but just the same you need me. I don't know how you and Lacey ever stayed in business, Stirling, you're so dumb! You need somebody who can look after your books and attend to the banking and run your office-"
"Honey, you don't have to make this great sacrifice for me!"
I was sweating. I figured that sooner or later Abby would tumble to the fact that this International Star Registry, for all the legitimacy of its set up, was really something of a racket. Also however the Registry worked out, I did want to get back into circulation as a successful agent again, and I didn't care for the idea of Abby wondering when I was going to get around to making her a big star.
Then there was the simple fact that, though Abby had turned out to be quite a cookie for a man with a sweet tooth, there were other cookies and bonbons in the world, and now and then a man likes a change.
"It ain't-it isn't a sacrifice for me," she said. "You ought to know that you and I couldn't go on shacking up all this time without word getting around. Everybody around here knows that I've been shacking up with a jailbird. Minerva can get away with something like that, but me-it shoots my credit, if you know what I mean. Unless you marry me before you leave, which you aren't about to do-"
"Sweetie-"
"Don't worry, I know you're not in love with me, and I won't get in your way. If you want to sleep around, that's your business. I wouldn't mind marrying you, but if I can't do that, I guess I'll just have to make do with becoming a great movie star and getting rich. Meanwhile, I'd better stick with you till your business gets going good and see to it that you don't go broke."
Well, since she put it that way....
CHAPTER SIX
All the halcyon days that followed.
Once we opened our office, hardly a day passed that we didn't draw in enough geld to pay our expenses for a month and have plenty left over.
"It's fabulous!" Lacey chortled. "We should have charged an initiation fee of twenty-five hundred! Or five thousand!"
"No," I said, "no, we hit it right on the head! Exactly what the traffic will bear. Almost anybody these days can drum up a thousand if he really wants to and tries real hard. Plenty of young guys and young chicks have a couple of thousand in savings accounts or bonds or something. Plenty who don't have it can borrow it. Yes, we set this thing up exactly right!"
Abby showed us the books, and we all giggled like mad idiots and clapped each other on the shoulders.
Ah, that suite of offices. I'll never forget it. Rich deep rugs, paneled walls, the most luxurious and substantial-looking furnishings. The minute we saw how the money was rolling in, we made sure we had the best.
Let's face it. Technically legit or not, basically we were working a con. And when you work a con, you've got to have a front that looks convincing, a Big Store that looks truly impressive.
We impressed hell out of everybody, including ourselves.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind going behind that screen and disrobing, my dear...."
"Oh," said this little blonde or that little redhead, "I have perfect measurements! I have a perfect figure!"
"I can well believe that, but I can hardly tell Darryl or Carlo that I took your word. Of course, if you'd rather not ... if you feel that in front of a motion picture earners you'd be too shy...."
"Oh-tee-hee!-I don't mind!"
"Fine, fine-everybody in the industry appreciates a good sport."
"Oh, I try always to be a good sport!"
And so this little blonde or that little redhead would go behind the screen in my office to take off her clothes.
"Do you really think I have a chance of becoming a movie star, Mr. Steele?" she might ask from behind the screen.
"My dear, I don't want to enthuse you beyond reason, but you have so much greater a chance than most women I've seen that I'm truly impressed, truly, truly impressed!"
"Gee!"
And moments later:
"Shall I take them all off, Mr. Steele?"
"Take as much off as you wish, my dear. I'll only say that we in the industry are always highly impressed by a good show of-uh-cooperation."
"Well-tee-hee-I guess I'd better show you my cooperation then-tee-hee!-huh, Mr. Steele?"
"I'd certainly appreciate that, yes. You see, movies are much more adult than they used to be, and they're getting more so all the time-"
"Oh, I know! They show just about everything! I guess I can see why you want to be sure I'm not too shy for the movies, Mr. Steele!"
Then with only a slight show of embarrassment, this little blonde or that little redhead, might move out from behind the screen.
Clad only in a little blush and a little smile.
"Hmm," I might say thoughtfully, "I see that you really are a redhead. That's good."
"I photograph very well!"
"I know, I-pardon me, would you please walk over there? That's right ... now over that way. Very good. Now if you'd sit in that chair. Stand up again, please. Now I want you to raise your arms straight up over your head, rise up on your tiptoes, and stretch just as much as possible."
"Like this?"
"Yes. Yes, that's fine. You can relax now. And if you'd please walk over to that couch. Very slowly walk to it, sit down as gracefully as possible, then lift up your legs and stretch your arms over your head again."
"Like this?"
"Gracefully, gracefully! Very good, very good! Yes, my dear, I think you did the right thing in applying for admission to the registry. We can guarantee nothing of course-may I sit down with you?-but you've exhibited a very impressive talent, the tapes of your voice in themselves are an excellent recommendation-there are one or two little factors I want you to work on-"
"Oh, I will, Mr. Steele, I will!"
I help her as she scrambles to sit up beside me.
"Yes, I think you did the right thing. And since we may be working together, I do wish you'd call me Stirling."
The may introduces a slight worry into her mind at the same time that the invitation to call me by my first name gratifies her.
"What factors do you think I should work on?" she asks.
"Well, on the whole you read script very well, though you should concentrate on smoothing up a bit. The love scene you read for me was, frankly, adequate-but no more."
"But I could do much better!" she says, worried.
"Perhaps, but I can't help wondering if you've lived enough. Have you had enough experience, heartbreak, passion, victory, suspense-?"
"Oh, I've had lots!"
"But have you had enough? Let me ask you frankly
-are you a virgin?"...." No."
"Well, that's a good start. But enough of this. I'd like to keep you here longer, but I imagine you have other engagements-"
"Oh, no! I'm in no hurry!"
"Well, then. Do you have any questions you want to ask?"
"I've been wondering ... is it true what they say ... about the girls who sleep with producers getting ahead fastest?"
"Not every successful actress sleeps with producers and directors. Not every girl who sleeps with the right people becomes a star. But there's no denying the fact that the girl who's a-uh-good sport does have quite an edge on the competition."
She stares at me and slowly gets a knee up onto the couch.
"It sounds to me as if a girl could get plenty of experience at passion and stuff on her way to the top."
"Oh, she can. And frequently does. But, my dear, you have the best chance if you have a fully developed talent before you even arrive in Hollywoood. Surely you wouldn't mind going out and kissing a few nice fellows for the practice."
"But I kiss very well, honest! If you let me show you how I can play a love scene...."
I shrug. "If you'd like to."
She looks at me a moment longer.
Then she rises up on one knees on the couch and, still quite naked, she kisses me.
As often as not, quite a kiss.
"I love you," I whisper, stroking her bare shoulder.
"I love you! Oh, I love you! I want to be with you! Near you!" she whispers back.
I return her kisses. Kisses as tropical as hers. Stroking her body more boldly, I lay her back on the couch.
"You don't know how much I need you!" I whisper. "You're my woman. The most beautiful, the most desirable woman I've ever known! I can't resist you!"
"I don't want you to resist, my love!" she says. "I want to make you happy! Oh, love, you're driving me crazy!"
Under these circumstances, I really might be driving her crazy by this time. The girls tended to turn on mighty quick when the situation was right.
And so-no more talk.
Just me over a naked, squirming, usually quite good-looking girl, driving her to a higher and higher erotic pitch as I make my kisses and caresses increasingly intimate.
Until she might say in a husky voice, "Mr. Steele-Stirling...."
"Yes?"
"You'll find that I can be an awfully good sport!"
Or maybe she wouldn't even say that. She'd know what I wanted, and she'd know what she wanted. So she'd find my belt and then my zipper, her hands would tug at cloth and then at my hard old rod, and then-and then-I'd take her.
Oh, how I'd slip it to her. For a thousand bucks and her fair young body.
"So you've laid another one," Abby might say afterward, looking at me appraisingly.
"What makes you say that?"
"I can tell. Bet you couldn't slice it to me right now."
"Sweetie lamb! It's just that I'm so busy-"
"Having screw sessions with the clients. You haven't lifted up my skirt and peeled off my panties in four days. That's some kind of record."
"Baby, you promised you wouldn't be jealous!"
"Oh, I'm not, I'm not. But don't think that one of these days I'm not going to look for some action of my own. Not if you don't keep me better satisfied."
"Honey, I swear to you that tonight...."
Ah, those happy days!
The majority of our clients were female, but not all of them by any means. Many a young husky wrote to us, came to our door, inisisted upon our taking his money. They were often so pathetically eager to toss out a thousand bucks that one frequently felt he was doing them a favor in accepting it. Which, from their standpoint, we certainly were. For a mere thousand bucks they were getting a chance to become the next Rock Longyards, though a few seemed more intent on replacing Doris Day.
"You really thought my reading of Hamlet was impressive, Mr. Steele?"
"Oh, most impressive, most!"
"I've done better, I really have. And you should have seen me in our little theatre production of The Drunkard-I hate to brag, but everyone said I was magnificent."
"I can well believe that. Well, Mr. Lambeth-"
"I do wish you'd call me Tony. Of course, my very best friends call me Blue Eyes."
"Well, Blue Eyes-"
"Mind if I call you Stirling?"
"Not at all, not at all-"
"I've got a couple of questions, Stir baby."
"Shoot, Blue Eyes, shoot!"
"What do you think of this blond marcel hairdo of mine?"
"Lovely, Blue Eyes, simply scrumptious!"
"Isn't it though? You don't think my hair's too long?"
"Not at all-"
"Or too short?"
"Just right-"
"The girls love it."
"I can believe that-"
"So do the fella-a-as."
"I'll bet they do."
"Hokay, Stir honey. Now there's one thing I want to make clear."
"Shoot, Blue Eyes, shoot!"
"I've got a first-rate tailor, see-"
"Oh, I can see that."
"Best this side of Bond Street. And he does great by me, 'cause Cosimo and I are on excellent terms, I mean we're great buddies. He used to be a dressmaker in Rome."
"Did he indeed!"
"But the thing I want to point out is that these muscles are real. I mean, they aren't the illusion of tailoring or anything like that! As a matt-er-of-fact, I keep them in trim by wrestling with Cosimo."
"Always keep them in trim, Blue Eyes-"
"I think I'd better show them to you, huh?"
"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-I'll take your word for it-really, Blue Eyes, you needn't undress-"
"I wouldn't want you to think I was kidding you, Stir honey. That door is locked, isn't it? We won't be interrupted?"
"No, but-"
"Stir honey, seeing is believing, and you just can't imagine how beautiful I am if you don't see. I mean I'm just naturally blessed, kid. Some fella-a-as have it, and some do not. I actually don't blame people for calling me Adonis. I'll admit it's a bit embarrassing for a modest chap like myself, but what are you doing to do? You have to live with your blessings, you know?"
"Look, Blue Eyes, if you're going to undress, there's a screen over there-"
"Oh, I don't need it. There's nothing false about my modesty. I've simply got to live with the fact that I'm-forgive me-just about the most gorgeous thing to walk the face of the earth. And beauty is meant to be shared, right, Stir sweetie?"
"You've got a point-"
"Who am I to hide my light under a bushel? What right have I to keep those who want to look from looking? I have a kind of obligation to let them see everything, don't I?"
"I suppose you could look at it that way-"
"In just a few seconds now, Stir honey, you're going to see something you're going to remember all your life. Plenty of the gals and the fella-a-as have told me I look just like a Greek god come to life. I'm not bragging, you understand-it's just something I have to live with."
"Oh, I understand, I understand!"
I understand that for a thousand bucks this character wants the privilege of stripping naked in my office, that's what I understand. And for a thousand bucks, he can strip in my office and take out his own appendix for all I care.
"Well-here we go, Stir sweetie!"
"Go right ahead, Blue Eyes."
"Notice how good I look in red bikini briefs?"
"Very good, Blue Eyes, very good indeed."
"I really fill 'em out good, huh?"
"Magnificently, Blue Eyes. Now, if you'd like to get dressed-"
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. Are you all braced?"
I stifle a yawn. "All braced."
"Here we go. Whoops!"
Very often characters like Blue Eyes are impressive physical specimens. If only they could keep their mouths shut.
Blue Eyes commences to strut about stark naked in my office. He's maybe six feet two and, as he says, built like an Adonis. Great profile. Big deep chest.
Small waist, narrow hips, and the buttocks of a boy. Long well-shaped thighs, the build of a race horse with great stud abilities.
He flexes his muscles, displays his biceps, clenches his small buttocks, makes his back ripple. He paces and turns and poses, a real high-stepping stepper, by golly and by gravy. He's really got it, and he knows he's got it.
Ho-hum.
"Howzat, Stir sweetie!"
"Most impressive, Blue Eyes."
"I do ballet and modern dance. Watch this leap! There! Ever seen anything flop like that?"
"Never."
"A lot of the fella-a-as say I could be another Nijinsky. You can see their point."
"Oh, I can, I can!"
"Here! Let me do a couple more steps for you. Oops! tripped. Of course, I've been too busy to keep in practice, but you should see me do Swan Lake. Well Stir, what do you think?"
"My faith in your talent finds further vindication with every fleeting instant, Blue Eyes."
"I knew you'd be impressed. Gee, this is exciting! We're men of the world-you don't mind if I get a little excited, do you?"
"Why, I'd be surprised if you didn't, Blue Eyes."
"I knew you'd understand. You see, Stir, like most artists, I'm extraordinarily virile and terrifically potent, and when I'm performing, especially before an audience, I'm apt to become very worked up-"
"Ah-if you'd like to get dressed now, Blue Eyes-
"Not yet. Come here, Stir."
"Huh?"
"Come here, I want you to feel these muscles."
"Really, Blue Eyes, I can see that they're-"
"You've got to feel them to believe how hard they are. Just put your hand on these biceps. There now. Ever feel anything like that before?"
"No, I can't say I have."
"Impressive, huh? Like warm steel. Now, here-here, give me your hand. Feel my belly. Feel those muscles, Stir? Feel 'em?"
"I certainly do."
"Want to hit me in the belly? Go ahead, hit me in the belly !"
"No, I'd rather not, I'll take your word-"
"Feel these thighs, then. Here, let me guide your hand. Feel how strong that tendon is on the inside?
Just like a cable, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's just like-"
"Oh, oh, look at me now! Well, we're both men of the world. You see what I mean when I say I'm terrifically potent?"
"Well, I guess that's the penalty you pay for being an artist-"
"Here, feel this-"
"Really, Blue Eyes-"
"Now you can see why I am the way I am. I mean, I've really got it, Stir. Ever see anything like that before in your life?"
"No, I-"
"Now you know why the fella-a-as and gals will flock to see me on the screen. They sense these things, you know? Now, if you want to feel some hard muscle-"
"No, no, no, I'm afraid I must take your word-I have another appointment in five minutes-"
"Just one feel, go ahead, I don't mind, we're both men of the world-"
"I'm awfully sorry, Blue Eyes, but you know we'll be seeing more of each oth-er-"
"I'll be looking forward to it, Stir honey. You know, you ought to work out with Cosimo and me. We have some great fun, and you'd get into shape in no time-"
"I'll think about that, I really will. Now, if you wouldn't mind getting dressed as quickly as possible, I hate to rush you, but...."
I had some pretty narrow escapes, fella-a-a....
The days sped by, and the weeks, and the weeks turned into months.
Oh, those happy loot-filled months! We lived like kings. Abby was appalled by the way we spent money.
"Why, you boys are just throwing it away! You yourselves don't know where it goes to!"
"What's the difference, baby doll? There's more where the last comes from, isn't there?"
"But you should be building up a reserve! Sometimes I wonder why I work so hard to make a go of this business-"
"The buisness is a go, honey, so stop worrying. Write yourself a bonus check for a thousand dollars, will you? Heck, make it two thousand. Make it three, baby doll, you deserve it!"
"Everything I say, you answer it by telling me to give myself a bonus," she said unhappily.
"But what more do you want?"
"You know what I want. I want to go to Hollywood and become a great star. Stirling, sometimes I think you were kidding me about taking me on as a client."
"Baby doll, how can you say that?"
"But how can you represent me in Hollywood if you're not there? You haven't been there once since we opened this office! You phone your Hollywood office every day, practically, but all you do is tell them to forward the mail, and they know enough to do that already-"
"Honey, we're going to get the New York office in full operation soon, and right after that I'm going out to Hollywood, and I give you my word that I'll take you with me. I want to see personally that you get the best promotion-"
"Sometimes, Stirling, I just feel like up and quitting!"
"Now, baby, don't do that!"
If Abby hadn't hooked up with us, I'd have been happy. If she'd quit us soon after our going into business, I would have been satisfied. But I had to acknowledge the fact that much of the success of the business was due to her. Oh, maybe Lacey and I would have made a go of it on our own, but she made it possible for us to leave every technicality in her hands so that we could have the fun of loot-gathering and the nicer girlie-interviews without worrying about the business end of our enterprise in the slightest.
In short, while she was doing the duller work-for which she was well paid-we were having a ball.
Such being the case, neither Lacey nor I was in the slightest eager to get rid of Abby.
But the money and the fun wasn't the only thing that occupied my mind. I didn't forget my long-range aim of getting back into circulation as a legit agent with legit clients. The Registry was fine. It would provide a steady income and a big one, and I figured that as soon as I got done celebrating our success I'd start saving some money as a cushion. I'd always believed in having a cushion, and the bigger the better.
And when I had it, I'd start angling for a client as big as the best I'd ever handled in the past-or bigger.
I didn't discount the possibility that the Registry really would turn up a client with real potential. After all, new stars have to come from somewhere, the dames and guys who came to us often were better looking and more talented than average, and the willingness to spend a thousand bucks signified a certain amount of the necessary genuine drive toward success.
I couldn't help hoping that one day someone would walk through our doors,-and I'd have one of the next great stars on my hands.
Sure, such a thing was very un-likely. But it could happen.
I had no intimation that such a thing might happen when Abby told me that somebody named Roland Rolls-well had made an appointment for his daughter that afternoon.
"If he's got the money," I said, "I've got the time."
Abby frowned. "I'd be a mite careful with Mr. Rollswell, Stirling. I mean, I'd treat him and his daughter nice and polite."
"I treat everybody nice and polite, sweetie, why do you say that?"
"Don't you know anything about the town you're living in?"
"I don't read the local news, sweetie. What do I care who the new dog catcher is?"
"I do read the local news, and I've got to know this town pretty well. And Mr. Roland Rollswell is about the most powerful behind-the-scenes political figure in these parts. One of the most powerful in the state. In fact, you could say that what the Judge is back in my hometown, Mr. Roland Rollswell is around here. Only more so."
"So we'll roll out the red carpet for him. I don't know why you've got that worried look on your pretty face, baby doll."
"Because sometimes, Stirling, I get to thinking that maybe you and Lacey aren't anything more than a couple of crooks."
"Why, baby doll!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abby had given Roland Rollswell an appointment for four in the afternoon, and the man didn't show up until four-thirty. Lacey had left by that time, gone off with some chick, and I'd just told Abby she might as well leave when the door opened and in came Rollswell.
I knew he was Rollswell because he said: "I'm Rollswell!"
Or maybe I should say he shouted it. A heavy-set man in his fifties, he looked like a very tough cookie indeed. From what Abby told me, he'd made a fortune in construction work, and he might have had gray hair, but he looked as if he could lift a steel beam with one hand.
"Well, where is she?" he asked in an ugly snarling voice.
"Where's who?" I asked.
"My daughter! Rolanda! Where have you got her?"
"Mr. Rollswell, your daughter isn't here-"
"Don't try to kid me, young man! I know how men are where my daughter is concerned. You wouldn't be the first to try-"
"Really, Mr. Rollswell," Abby cut in, "we expected you and your daughter half an hour ago, and since she still hasn't appeared, we can only conclude that she's even more appallingly rude than you."
Rollswell stared at Abby for a moment as if he couldn't quite believe his ears.
"Young lady, nobody talks to Roland Rollswell that way," he said.
Abby smiled sweetly. "Someone just did, Mr. Rollswell."
"I take it my daughter hasn't appeared, then."
"You do catch on slowly, Mr. Rollswell, but nobody can say you don't catch on."
Rollswell looked at me and pointed at Abby. "Fire her," he said.
I suggested that he attempt a rather silly act with a rolling donut while flying.
"Young man," he roared, "don't you talk that way in front of a lady!"
"Mr. Rollswell," Abby said, "you seem to have become momentarily confused. This gentleman is on my side."
Again, Rollswell looked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"Bunch of crooks, all of you," he mumbled at last.
"If you feel that way, Mr. Rollswell," I said, "why don't you just leave-?"
"No, no-so I blow a thousand bucks. It's not as if I couldn't buy you and sell you. Here-here's my check for a paltry grand, already made out."
He slapped a check down on the table and waited for us to grab it.
We didn't.
I wasn't at all sure I wanted anything to do with Roland Rollswell or his daughter Rolanda.
"Why don't you keep your money until I've talked to your daughter and found out if she's got any potential-"
"You'll take my money and shut up!" he said, reddening. "And don't insult my daughter! She has more potential, as you call it, than any other female you've ever met, young fellow! That's just the trouble! Too much potential! And now she's got this silly idea she wants to go to Hollywood! Why does she have to waste her time on such claptrap when she could be marrying some perfectly normal decent honest young millionaire? I don't know. It beats me. I don't understand the younger generation at all."
Sure. I'd bet. The apple of Daddy's eye. I'd been through all this bit before. Well, if Daddy wanted to throw away his money, who was I to stop him?
I picked up the check and handed it to Abby.
"Which one are you?" Rollswell growled. "Steele or Maross?"
"This is Mister Steele," Abby said pointedly.
"I've done some checking on you, Steele." ..
"Oh?" Oh? is short for Oh-oh!
"Yes, on you and your partner. Didn't find out much, didn't have time, but apparently you have handled some important people in show business."
"A few," I admitted modestly, my heart sinking back into place.
"I don't care, I still think you're a couple of crooks. Something phony about this whole set-up."
"I assure you, Mr. Rollswell-"
"Yes, I'm sure you do assure-me-Mr. Rollswell. You and your International Star Registry. Something stinks!"
"Abby, give the man back his check."
"I won't take it!"
"Then tear it up, Abby."
Abby daintily tore the check up and deposited it in a wastepaper basket. Nosirree, I didn't want anything to do with this old s.o.b.
He turned purple.
"What's the fuss, Rollswell? It's only a lousy grand. Can you blame us for not caring to accept your pin money? We can do without your daughter, too. Now, if you don't mind, I think we'll close the office a little early."
A funny thing happened to Rollswell.
He turned from purple to white.
"Rolanda will be mad," he said.
"Will she, now?"
"She's always telling me, 'Daddy, you keep putting your foot into it!"
"Does she indeed? Rollswell, if you'll excuse us-"
"She's got her heart set on this silly movie star business. Says it's the best way to have fun! As if I didn't know what kind of fun those depraved movie people have! But she insists, she absolutely insists that she must become an actress!"
"So do a million other girls-"
"Look, Steele, if you knew my daughter you'd understand why I worry about her. That's why I wanted to get here early and talk to you before she arrived. And since I arrived late, I assumed-"
"Your assumption was ill-founded-"
"Steele, you must at least see her. Talk to her. If you don't, she'll be mad. And when Rolanda gets mad, she's even worse than I am!" He made the statement with a certain amount of pride.
"Rollswell, I think you've got a problem. Why don't you take it for a walk?"
"Are you telling me that you refuse-?"
"I'm telling you that I ... that I...."
I must have sounded like a cracked record. I simply couldn't get past those two words.
Because the door had opened, and in had walked the most gorgeous, the most provocative, the most stunning, the sexiest girl I'd ever seen in my entire life.
She was a blonde. Platinum blonde. Most of the girls who'd been to see Lacey and me had worn their hair in the current long straight fashion, but this one had a mass of ringlets high on her head. "Her eyebrows, however, were dark and arched, and her lashes were black and long.
Green eyes. Cat eyes. Langurous sexy looking eyes.
High cheekbones. Delicate nostrils and a strong jaw. A round chin and a full red wanton mouth. Her figure?
The white lace dress looked almost as if it had been stenciled directly on her curves, the way it cupped those high jutting breasts, that lovable expanse of belly, those long glorious thighs. Under the dress her white bra and panties were quite apparent, and nothing covered the tops of her luxurious creamy bowls. My gaze traveled from that bare flesh, down her body, over exquisitely curved calves to small white open-toed shoes, and back up again.
I don't know how much time passed before I could breathe.
"Hello, Daddy," she said. "Sorry I'm late."
"Rolanda!" Daddy said. "You've been keeping these people waiting! That's very rude! Mr. Steele, here, says that he's not at all sure he's interested in helping such a rude girl!"
Rolanda turned her sexy green gaze on me. "I'm sure I can make Mr. Steele change his mind," she said.
Rollswell looked at me imploringly. He needn't have bothered.
"Try!" I croaked. "Just try!" And she tried.
Smiling promisingly, hips swaying, she walked toward me. I had no idea of what she was going to do. Not even when she raised her hands.
I didn't really believe it when she slid her arms over my shoulders.
I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening when she brought her curvaceous torso up against me, grinding it in.
I was sure I was dreaming when she moved her body against mine and kissed me with a wicked tongue.
"Rolanda!" Rollswell roared. "That is very, very naughty! Mr. Steele won't understand that you're just a foolish little girl!"
"I'm sure that Mr. Steele understands quite well," Rolanda said, and if I hadn't, the pulsating pressure she was giving me at ball-level would have gotten her message across.
"Rolanda!" Rollswell bellowed, jerking her away from me. "You stop that!"
"Aw, Daddy-"
"When you're older and little more mature, you'll understand that people misconstrue your actions when you behave like that! There are some things that you just don't do in public-"
"Okay, Daddy, I promise to do them only in private."
"Not even there! You see why I have to look after her, Steele?"
"I see," I said, trying to get some oxygen into my lungs.
"She doesn't realize how attractive men find her!"
"She doesn't?"
"No! And she persists in such childish behavior!"
"Well, We'll have to cure her of that!" A happy smile broke over his seamed old face. "Then you'll change your mind? You will accept my check and take my little girl on as a client?"
"I wouldn't want Rolanda to be angry with you-or with me!"
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Rollswell hurriedly broke out his checkbook. "A thousand dollars. It's chicken feed, really, and if my little girl insists upon becoming a movie star...."
"Youth will be served."
"Exactly, exactly!" He wrote the check and handed it to Abby, then headed for the door. "I must leave you now. You be a good girl, Rolanda. And, Steele, you take care of her. Remember, she's just a sweet innocent kid!"
After we'd bid him adieu and he'd left, Rolanda giggled.
"Daddy's such a kook," she said, then she looked at me thoughtfully. "But you'd better make me a movie star," she added, "or he'll murder you."
I directed Rolanda into my office, then told Abby she could leave if she wanted to.
"I'd leave that one alone if I were you," she said.
"Abby, honey, I don't exactly know what you-"
"You know what I mean. That one could be dynamite. Or rather her old man is. He may act like a nut where his daughter is concerned, but he's a nut with power. You better remember that, Stirling."
"Honey child, we haven't got a thing to worry about. Leave everything to Stirling."
Me, I was on Cloud Nine.
I'd taken one look at Rolanda, and I'd known that she was what I was looking for. No, she wasn't an established star, which was what I'd have preferred, but now I decided that I liked this even better: if I guided Rolanda to the heights to which she was going, I'd be much better able to keep my claws on her. And this was one client I wasn't going to lose to some jerk like Payson Terhune.
Rolanda was going to be a star.
My star.
I hadn't the slightest doubt that she was the greatest thing on two lovely legs to appear in the last ten years. The world was waiting for her and I had her.
Abby got ready to leave, and I went into my private office. Rolanda was prowling around, exploring the place. I'd imported some signed pictures from my L.A. office-various Studs and Sex Goddesses I Have Known. Most of the latter were in various pin-up poses. My motto is, Why look at a girl with clothes on when you can look at her naked?
But I wasn't looking at the pin-ups now. I was looking at Rolanda.
Gorgeous.
She moved like an animal. Completely uninhibited. There wasn't much hip-sway now, she was almost awkward, she stood feet apart, she twisted at the waist, she yawned and stretched-she prowled.
"You really know these people, huh?" she asked.
"Some better than others."
"When do I go to Hollywood?"
Like that. Right to the point.
"As soon as possible, Rolanda. In the next few days if that's agreeable to you."
She grinned at me. "Don't you think you'd better find out if I have talent first?"
"Do you want to show me?"
"Not particularly. I know what I've got. But a friend of mine came to see you a week or two back. A redheaded girl named Celia Switch. Remember?"
I did indeed. The chicks came and went, so to speak, but Celia I remembered quite well.
"I haven't forgotten Celia," I said.
"I'll bet you haven't. She said you made her fill out a lot of forms and have some pictures taken and recorded her voice and all that jazz. She said you made her take all her clothes off."
"Honey, I didn't make Celia do anything."
"No, I guess you just made her, period. Or, knowing Celia, maybe it was the other way around. Was she good?"
"She-she showed considerable dramatic talent-"
"To hell with her dramatic talent. You know what I mean. Was she good screwing? Nice nooky?"
Even I have a blush or two left over from childhood.
And I'm old enough to keep my mouth shut.
"Miss Switch's behavior," I said, "was the very essence of propriety-"
Rolanda cut me off with a laugh. "Yeah, I'll bet. Swinging Celia, the gang calls h-er-she invented Sexual Musical Chairs at the age of fourteen. She was the first girl I ever saw screwing in public. We were at a party, and somebody dared her. So she stripped down and did it with her date. Some of the other kids did too, but she was the first."
"And you?"
"Not me, Stirling-if that's your name. I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing for a million dollars, but nobody offered me a million."
The more I looked at this birdie and the more I heard her talk, the more I dug her. She was a real cat, I decided, pure feline, and not a complete fool.
"What got you interested in going to Hollywood?" I asked.
When she shrugged, it was an all-out shrug, and I thought-wishfully-that she was going to lose that creamy mass out of the front of her dress.
"I thought about it off and on since I was a little kid, but I've been busy going to college, which was a ball in itself. Now I'm out, and I've got to find something to do that'll be fun. Be a model? Be a Riviera beach bum? Hollywood just seemed to be a good place to meet the people who swing. But a real actress, a star, has status, you know? And I guess I could undress in a James Bond movie as well as any other girl. Maybe better than most."
"That I believe."
"Mind if I sit down?"
"No, I'd rather you walked around some more. I like the way you walk."
She laughed. "I've been told that I walk as if I were naked."
"You do. As if you were alone and naked. As if you didn't care if anyone were watching you or not."
"I don't care, really. As a matt-er-of-fact, I hardly ever wear clothes when I'm at home in my apartment. What's the point?"
"I quite agree. I seldom wear them when I'm at home alone myself."
"I didn't say I necessarily had to be alone." She looked at me speculatively. "I'll bet you're quite a swinger yourself, Stirling."
"I do all right."
She nodded. "I'll bet you do."
I wondered who was doing the interviewing, her or me. She was looking me over like a piece of steak.
"There is some information I have to have," I said, going to my desk. "If you don't mind answering a few questions...."
"Not at all."
I slid a standard form into my electric typewriter, and Rolanda perched her bottom on the edge of my desk, her skirt pulling distractingly tight over one thigh. I got the usual name-and-address dope, age, height, and so forth, and asked her about her dramatic training.
None.
Dramatic experience?
"Oh, I've had some very dramatic experiences-"
"You know what I mean."
None.
Modeling experience? None.
Beauty awards and so forth?
Silly question. She'd been queen of everything that anybody could find a reason to make her queen of. Which really didn't matter in the slightest, not with this chick. All I had to do was show her to the right people.
"Got any pictures of yourself?"
"None that I'd call any good."
That rather surprised me.
"Well, never mind. Maybe we won't even have any taken. I'd rather certain people saw you in the flesh, anyway."
"Which reminds me. You haven't seen me in the flesh either. I mean, not really."
"Are you volunteering?"
"We'll see."
"Pardon the intimacy of the question, Rolanda, but would you say you had any bad habits?"
"I don't bite my nails, if that's what you mean, and I'm not on dope. I've never so much as had a stick of maryjane in my life. And I'm not a nymphomaniac or a boozer. Is that what you want to know?"
"That pretty much covers it."
"There's one question you asked Celia that you haven't asked me as yet."
"What's that?"
"Am I a virgin?"
"At risk of being undiplomatic, I assumed that you were not."
"That's right," she said in that perfectly casual way of hers, "I'm not."
"And you're not frigid."
"No, I enjoy screwing, Doctor. In fact, Doctor, I can't think of anything I enjoy more. Especially with a man who really knows what he's doing." What was she trying to do, turn me on? "I guess you meet a lot of contenders," I said. "Plenty," she agreed.
"And you're telling me that you wouldn't mind spreading your legs for the right people, people who could advance you in your chosen career."
She shrugged again, one of those shrugs that threatened to undress her. "I told you I can't say I wouldn't do what Celia did if I was offered a million dollars."
"One thing you'd better learn, honey. Sex is cheap in Hollywood. A smart girl keeps her price high."
"I won't forget. You just tell me when and where and with whom, Stirling. Any more questions?"
There were a few more, and I asked them, then she had one of her own.
"What about Celia?" she asked. "Do you think she can crack the pictures?"
"I don't answer questions about my other clients, Rolanda."
"You must kid a lot of them. Give 'em what they want to hear. That's the only way this set-up of yours makes sense. Have you been kidding me?"
"I told you, honey, I want you to fly out to the Coast with me just as soon as possible. I've met a few girls wo might do okay in Hollywood in a small sort of way. I'd appreciate it if you didn't quote me to Miss Switch, but you are by far the most interesting female ever to come into this room. You beat all the rest hands down. Right now, you're the only client in the world who really interests me."
She nodded. "That's what I want to hear. You've got some kind of contract?"
"I'll be ready for you to sign in the morning."
"Fine." She got up from the edge of the desk. "And now I'm getting hungry. Are you busy this evening?"
"With you."
She grinned. "So take me out and feed me."
They used to say that the best way to a man's heat was through his stomach. Did you know that a woman's stomach is one of the best routes to her bed?
Of course, you have to take her to the right kind of joint. By and large, just any old greasy spoon won't do unless the chick is in the mood for low-life. This doll I took to the best restaurant I could find.
Not that I had the highest hopes in the world. This cat might swing a lot higher, farther and nearer than most who came up to the office, but this one-you couldn't tell which direction she might jump next. I was afraid that maybe two hours from now she might decide that the whole Hollywood-bound bit had just been a whim and that she was already tired of it. And the way she looked over the men on the scene, I figured she might even be capable of jumping up and leaving me for some stud who appealed to her more.
A real swinging cat.
But she didn't leave me. And I took her to a place where we could dance a little in dim light and nurse a few drinks. She teased me.
"Are you going to make a pass at me when you take me home, Stirling?"
"Would you like me to?"
"I haven't made up my mind."
"I thought that was the kind of thing a woman made her mind up about the minute she met a man."
"Maybe. But sometimes a woman doesn't know her own mind. Then it's up to the man to teach her what she really wants, isn't it?"
"I'd say so, yes."
"Do you think you could teach me, Stirling?"
"Would you like me to try?"
"I don't know. It might be interesting. But I should warn you-even if you managed to get my dress off, even if you managed to strip me, that wouldn't necessarily mean I was willing to let you slug it to me."
"But why would you let me strip you if you weren't willing?"
"To make sure you knew that I had a more beautiful body than, for instance, our little friend Celia. Or maybe just to wrestle with you. I like to neck and pet and wrestle, and I find that that's a lot more fun when you're naked, don't you agree?"
"I agree, but I think there's only one satisfactory way to end a naked wrestling match."
She sighed. "In that case, maybe I'd better not take my clothes off for you when you take me home."
"You were considering the possibility?"
"I thought you might enjoy seeing me that way. And I've found that a man generally enjoys getting his good night kiss more if I slip off my clothes first and let him hold my naked body."
"Funny you should mention it, because I've often found the same thing to be true of women. They enjoy slipping some clothes off, and they enjoy my doing the same."
"Really? You must be quite a Casanova."
"Don't try to make me brag, lady."
"Seriously-I really would like to know-how many times have you made love in a single night?"
"Seriously-eight times."
"You're kidding!"
"No. I was a little younger then, and I haven't tried recently to break my own record, but I'm generally good for five or six."
"Holy hump, I know some girls who'd like to meet you. I was talking to a girl the other day-after an evening with her boy friend, she found she still needed loving so bad that she paid a midnight visit on her ex-husband. And when he was done with her, she needed still more, so she took a taxi to her fiance's place. Think of the time she would have saved if she'd had you in for the night."
"I'm not all that good. I know a number of guys who could do the same-"
"And I know a number of girls who'd like to meet them." She yawned. "It's getting late. How about taking me home?"
I got a taxi and took her home to her apartment. And like a kid, I wondered just what would happen when we got there. Since she'd had her fun teasing me with sex talk, I was afraid that that would end it. Some women like an evening of flirtation and sex talk before getting the final thrill, but I've found that very often when the sex talk is quite open and undisguised, talk is all you get.
The moment we were inside her door, before she'd even turned on any lights, she was in my arms. Then her softness nestled against me, I stroked the curve of [missing text in original pocketbook]
I flared. I blazed. Her warmth invaded my body, her softness nestled against me, I stroked the curve of her spine, and our tongues traded stroke for stroke.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I wrestled her across the room to a sofa. Pushing her back onto it, I raised her skirt with my knee, and we pressed close together.
Moments later, she said, "My dress-you'll ruin it."
"I'll buy you another."
"Not like this one, you won't. Let me up."
"Baby-"
"Let me up!"
I could have killed her.
"Wait here for a minute," she said. "I won't be long. You relax and get comfortable."
I cursed her silently as she left the room. Relax and get comfortable was easy to say. Doing it after our fast grapple was a different matter.
Nevertheless, I pulled off my coat and tie. Then I looked around the room, hoping to find something to drink.
Nothing. I wondered just how frustrating an evening this was going to turn out to be.
After a few minutes she called out, "Okay, Stirling, you can come in now."
I hadn't expected that. I'd expected her to return. I followed the sound of her voice.
It led me down a hallway at the end of which I could see a light coming from an open door. I looked through the door.
She was standing with her back to me. She had on one of these big powdering mitts with which she was dusting a shoulder.
And that was all she had on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The bedroom lights were full on, and the bed was turned down, but I didn't even realize that for the moment. I was aware only of Rolanda.
She smiled at me over her shoulder as she patted her arm with the powdering mitt.
And I took in the planes of her back, the dip of her spine, the enticing roundness of her buttocks, the seductive length of her legs.
Then she turned to face me, lowering the big fluffy mitt and pressing it over her loins to cover herself. That left an awful lot that wasn't covered.
She stood there, high-breasted and pink-nippled, arching her covered middle toward me slightly. The tip of her tongue moved over her full red lower lips.
"You've been wondering," she said. "Now you know."
"Now I know," I said huskily.
"I've been told often enough that I'm not bad."
"You couldn't be told enough that you're perfection. She looked pleased. "You really think I've got what it takes?"
"Not only that, honey. You've really got what takes it."
She laughed and backed up to the bed. Always holding the powdering mitt over herself, she sat down, scooted onto the bed, and stretched out.
"Do I still look good?"
"Honey, if I were as naked as you are, you wouldn't have to ask that. You'd take one look at me and you'd know."
She moved the mitt, caressing herself. "Do you know what I've got under this mitt?" she asked.
"I've got a pretty good idea," I said, sitting down beside her.
"I wouldn't want you to think I've got anything to hide."
"Then show me."
Lying on her side, she arched her body toward me. And drew the mitt away from herself. And I looked.
At a blonde, a true platinum blonde.
As delicate and sweet and sensitive looking as any female I'd ever looked at. And this doll was already as turned on as I was. Shamelessly, she let me look at everything.
"You like me there?" she asked.
"Honey, I'm crazy about every cubic inch of you!"
"Then you might pet me. I like to be petted." So I petted her. And she purred.
Before long I leaned over her and began teasing her erect nipples with my lips, my teeth, my tongue. She liked that.
"Mm-mm, you're nice to me," she murmured, feeling blindly for my zipper tab. "If you were to get undressed, I could be nice to you, too."
So I got undressed. Naturally I got undressed. Wouldn't you have?
Rolanda helped me, unbuttoning my shirt and unfastening my belt buckle. I slipped out of my clothes as fast as I could without showing too much haste, letting them drop by the side of the bed. Tear them off in a mad frenzy, that was what I wanted to do.
When I at last dipped off my briefs, Rolanda dusted my rod and all with that crazy powdering mitt.
"Oh, you are excited, aren't you, darling!" she said, and then she threw the mitt away.
I lay down beside her and gathered her into the curve of an arm. We kissed, and I stroked her, and her fingers did delightful things between us.
"Don't try to rape me, darling," she said softly.
"I wouldn't do a thing like that, Rolanda."
"You might be surprised. More than once a fellow has tried to force me. It's kind of fun to be raped now and then by the right guy, but usually I have to work like mad to set them off so that they can't do anything. And sometimes they're pretty bitter about that."
"I should think they would be."
I felt a surge of jealousy-my weakness. I didn't like the idea that other guys had been right where I was now, doing the same things.
"Have you played games like this with many fellows, Rolanda?"
"How many is many, darling? I don't play with just anybody, you know. But after a nice date, it's a great way to wind up the evening. And, after all, what's Saturday night if you don't get laid?"
This babe was even more cat than I'd ever dreamed!
"Am I doing what you like, darling?" she asked dreamily a little later.
"There's only one or two things I like better."
"What's that? Oh, you mean...."
"That's what I mean."
"Maybe I will," she said. "We'll see. Any time you want me to pet you to a finish, you just say so."
"Don't," I said. "That's not what I want." She chuckled.
And then she began to get really wound up.
When I say wound up, I mean wound up. And she hadn't been kidding about her liking wrestling.
I'd never seen a woman's face or breasts become more swollen. Her engorged boobs became twice as hard, and her eyes looked blind. Her lips drawn back and breathing hard, she threw a leg over me and strained her belly against me and caressed me with the front of her body.
She was torturing herself.
And me.
We'd gone way past the point where I should have taken her.
"Do you really want to take me?" she whispered. "You know I do!"
"Then try."
"I am trying!"
"How many times do you want me?"
"Six, a dozen, forever!"
"I'll bet that if I let you slip in right now, you wouldn't last ten seconds!"
"Probably not."
"Then let's rest."
"Oh, baby!" I howled.
"All right," she laughed, "give me a fast one, and then we'll start all over again." But it wasn't a fast one.
So drunk with need I hardly knew what I was doing, I got over her. I felt as if I were dreaming as she brought me to her.
Then I took her, inch by heavy, throbbing inch.
And stayed.
"Oh, you're marvelous, marvelous!" she groaned, beginning to thrust and slide along my hard length.
I took command of the rhythm.
She was a live one all right!
"Mmm, I like doing this!" she said. "Oh, I'm a female tonight! Send me over! Send me! Oh!"
I sent her.
Then went flying myself.
Flying through fire and into oblivion.
"I usually like the second screwing more than the first," she said a little bit later. "Sometimes the first time is a masterpiece, sometimes it's not. But the second time, you feel that you're getting to know the guy, you know what I mean?"
Still later she said, "The first time can be terrific and the second time can be even better, but it's the third time, if your stud can still give service, that really makes the evening."
And later yet. "Four times! Hey, I'm beginning to feel like this is an orgy!"
And the fifth time: "Hey, this really is an orgy!"
And the sixth time: "Hey!"
And the seventh: "Now, cut that out!"
But I didn't.
Lacey was delighted. "You like her, Lacey, you really do?"
"Stir baby, you've done it! You've found us a real one!"
"Isn't she scrumptious?"
"Scrumptious? Stir baby, she is the most nibblable hunk of bon-bon I've seen in all my born days!"
"A repast fit for a king!"
"A one-woman harem, Stir baby!"
"An orgy on round heels, that's what she is!"
"But don't forget-you may have seen her first, but we're still partners, kiddo!"
"To the everlovin' end, Lacey baby!"
"We'll make Ft. Knox look poverty stricken!"
"You can bet on it! This chick is going to lay more golden eggs than King Midas's whole hen house!"
"Gee, I'd like to have a sample of that! I wonder if she'd lay for me?"
"Why not? Why not? We're all pals, aren't we?"
"Stir baby, I love you!"
"We're back in circulation, fella!"
"Circulation! We're circumvoluting, that's what we're doing!"
"Turbinating!"
"How soon you going to take her West?"
"Tomorrow! I've wired half the big league producers on the Coast!"
"Make 'em howl for her, fella! Make 'em beg!"
"Beg, I'm gonna make 'em bleed, haw haw!"
"None of these seven-year deals, now!"
"Not without an escalator like an Atlas rocket!"
"This kid should be picking up a million a year within three years, Stir baby!"
"Within two!"
"That's a hundred grand plus expenses for us! Minimum! Fifty thousand apiece!"
"Pays the rent, huh, kid? Haw, haw! And get this-I've insured her boobs with Lloyds-by the cubic inch!"
"Haw, haw!"
How charming to see Lacey in such a joyful mood. Abby, on the other hand, was in anything but. "You said that when you went out to the Coast you'd take me!"
"Abby, honey-"
"You said you had to get the New York office going, and then we'd go to Hollywood!"
"Honey, something has come up-"
"Yes, that crazy blonde has come up, don't you kid me, Stirling Steele I You flipped over her, that's what! You've done-did-forgotten that you're my agent, and you were my agent first, and you promised me-"
"Baby, I told you I'd do my best for you, and I will!"
"You think that-that broad has got any more talent than I've got?"
"Now, sweetie-"
"Why, you've never even heard me recite Romeo and Juliet! Not once have you taken time to listen to me recite Romeo and Juliet! And after all I've done for you, Stirling Steele! And I'll bet that that-that tomato never gave you any better humping in bed than I did!"
"Why, sweetie, whatever makes you think that Rolanda and I ev-er-?"
"The way you came into the office on all fours the next day, that's what makes me think so! Listen, maybe nobody ever told you, buster, but you're not such a world-beater in the sack!"
"Why, baby doll! How can you-you-oh, what a naughty thing to say! And, anyway, how would you know?"
"I know all right! Why, even Lacey-"
"Lacey!"
"Well, what did you expect? You're in your office having a sex party with some stupid girl, and I get to thinking about what you're doing, and that leaves me up the creek without a paddle-"
"Lacey! My pal!"
"He's my pal, too, remember! And he's been a better pal to me, I'll bet, than he's been to you, ha! ha! nya-a-a!"
"Lacey, come out here a minute!"
"Now, you leave Lacey alone-"
"Something the matter, old buddy, old sweet potato, old cellsie-wellsie matesie-watesie-?"
"Don't you cellsie-wellsie matesie-watesie vie, old schlemiel!"
"So what gives, ol schlematzl?"
"I'll tell you what gives! Abby tells me you've been paddling her canoe!"
"On and off, old studsie-wudsie, I've happily relieved my best friend of his carnal obligations, but please don't think I minded! Heck, I've been glad to! I've considered it a joy and a privilege! Indeed, I've been thinking of naming an oilwell after Abby, because she's undoubtedly the best snapper I've ever drilled-"
"Why, thank you, Lacey honey!" Abby cut in with pleasure.
"Don't thank me, baby. If our old pal here hadn't given you the time and the inclination-"
"Lacey honey, you give me the inclination!"
"Abby, what a sweet thing to say!" Lacey beamed at me. "So you see, old buddy, all is well, the boat is left unrocked, everybody is happy and satisfied-"
"Oh!" I said. "What an immoral thing to say!"
"Isn't he a prude!" Abby exclaimed.
"Look, Stir, you've got Rolanda to think of right now, correct?" Out of the line of Abby's vision, he winked at me. "We haven't been on the Hollywood scene for some time now, so it's going to be pretty hard for us to do anything for Abby unless we get an opening wedge. Rolanda is that wedge. She's just exactly what Acupuncture Productions is looking for, so if you sell her, we'll be hot. We'll be in a great position for selling Abby here. So why don't you just simmer down and concentrate on peddling Rolanda, and Abby and I will concentrate on minding the store while you're away. Right, Abby?"
Goodness, he did that neatly!
Abby looked dazed and said, "Why-why, of course, of course!"
I looked dazed and said, "Why-why, of course, of course!"
"Now, why don't you two just retire to Stir baby's office," Lacey said, "and make up. Little old Lacey-wacey won't mind."
So Abby and I retired to my office, locked the door, and took off our clothes.
And played the best triple-feature matinee we'd had in weeks.
As Lacey had said, we hadn't been on the Hollywood scene for some time, and Hollywood has a short memory in certain respects. Rolanda would, I was sure, be a wedge, just as Lacey had said, but as for her being something that Acupuncture Productions was looking for, as far as we knew Acu wasn't looking for anything or anybody. That bit had just been a gimmick to satisfy Abby.
Nonetheless, I in my innocence and enthusiasm had had visions of Rolanda and me being mobbed as we got off the plane.
There was no mob.
Why should there be? Sure, I'd alerted certain important people, and they knew me well, but they didn't know Rolanda from Eve. Until now they'd never heard of her, and as yet they hadn't even seen her picture.
So we rushed to our hotel with throngs of people not noticing us.
That evening I dazzled my little girl with Hollywood:
Ah! Isn't that Roger Longyard? Oh! There's Nigeria Poitrine! "Hi, Frankie, how goes it?"
"Get out of her, yuh bum."
"Heh-hehl Great joker, that Frankie-hi, Dean!"
"Get out of here, yuh bum."
"Heh-hehl Always kidding-hi, Sammy!"
"Get out of here, yuh bum."
"Man, what a bunch of jokers!"
She was dazzled, positively dazzled.
So that night we only needed one hotel room.
The next morning I put Rolanda in her own room and started making phone calls in my own.
"Mr. Grindgut is tied up on conference now, but if you'd care to leave a message-"
"Listen, sweetheart, I've got to talk to George personally, got that? It's a matter of highest importance. Just tell him I've got something for him, got that? Tell him I've got Rolanda here, he'll know what I mean, I wired him. Got that? Got my number?
Okay, sweetheart?" And:
"Stir sweetie, its great to hear from you, why I was talking about you only last week, what's happened to Stir? I asked, is the old con man dead? Listen, baby, we got to get together sometime while you're in town-"
"That's right, I've brought the dame with me, the Rolanda chick I wired you about-"
"Up to the balls, huh, Stir sweetie? I tell you, there's nothing like having your own portable hunk of goods, a man gets tired of this sleeping around all the time, yuh know? Be smart, Stir, and hang onto this baby, she sounds like a lulu. Now, about getting together, how about lunch sometime-?"
"Mike, I could deliver this package over to meet you right now-"
"I'm booked solid this month, baby, but how about next month sometime?"
"Mike, if only I could-"
"Can't make it, Stir sweetie? That's a shame!"
"Mike, I've got to see you, I've got to show you this dame-"
"I'd love to meet her, baby, I'd love to! Listen, I'll look for a break in my schedule. I'll phone you, Stir, I swear on my family Talmud, I will! Now, don't let me keep you, fella, I know how busy you are...."
I had a bad day. Mostly I didn't even get past a secretary.
"Well?" Rolanda asked that evening.
Women ask the damnedest questions.
"We're rolling, Rolanda, we're rolling! Gee, it was great to hear all those good old voices again! You can't imagine how people have missed me around here! The old town just hasn't been the same without you, Stir, they'd say! We've got to get together! I've got to see this client of yours! Now, don't you hold out on us, Stir lover! That's what they said, Rolanda, I swear that's what they said!"
"Gee!"
Another great night. A terrific night. The night made the day worth while.
But the next day was the same story as the first.
What was I, a leper?
Another Typhoid Mary?
A bubonic plague carrier?
The nights were lovely, but oh, those days!
By the evening of the third, Rolanda was asking, "When are you going to set up an appointment, Stirling? When are you going to see these characters? When are you going to take me to see them?"
The next day I decided I'd better get out of the hotel and try to crash a few gates. Now, gate-crashing in Hollywood is a sucker's game. Only a few people with a magic touch manage to get past those gates without an appointment, and at the present time I obviously wasn't one of them. But I had to do something more impressive as far as Rolanda was concerned than just sit around making phone calls until I was hoarse. The chick was bound to get skeptical about me sooner or later, and we couldn't have that.
I may not have had the magic touch, but I had luck.
I raised a little bit of hell out in front of Acupuncture, and I not only got past the gate, in about an hour I actually managed to get in to see the great Joseph Gravimaster himself.
"Stirling, Stirling, honeypot, how are you! Let me embrace you, baby!"
He was a little guy with a belly that must have made his sex life a little difficult, but I heard that he was managing, currently with Rouge Ronson. On top of a body like a big ball perched a head like a smaller ball. A bald ball wearing glases.
We jollied each other up, and I plunked into a chair.
"What is it, Joe? Suddenly I'm anathema around here! I've been here a couple of days, and you're the first guy to treat me human. Tell me why, Joe-talk to me like a Dutch uncle!"
"Well, Stirling, I'll level with you! It's those stupid pictures you've been sending around to everybody. Now, I know you've got to keep your racket legit from the legal angle, but who would have thought that Stirling Steele and Lacey Maross would stoop so low? Nobody wants their mail cluttered up with such junk, Stirling. And to think that Stirling Steele and Lacey Maross would take advantage of a friendship by claiming attention for this kind of trash."
I was sweating.
What had Lacey and I done!
Scuttle what rep we had with out sweet little racket?
"Joe," I said, "you can believe this or not, but some of those kids we've been pushing really have talent!"
"Of course they have!" he agreed. "But who needs talent? Stirling, you know and I know that real genius for the entertainment business is hard to find, but talent? Talent is the cheapest commodity in the world! Practically everybody has at least a Utile talent, but the industry isn't unlimited in size, and there's only so much room for talent and no more!"
He was right. Oh, so right. I'd known that all along. Joseph Gravimaster could go to the nearest street-corner and in half an hour pick up all the talent he needed.
Maybe all men led lives of quiet desperation, but none of the others felt it more keenly than I did right at that moment, boy.
"Joe," I said, "I didn't send you or anybody else a picture of this girl. I brought her to the Coast personally. At great personal expense. Why? Because she has a face that is sheer genius. Because she has a body that is sheer genius-"
"Now, you know that's not enough-"
"And a manner, a personality, an impact that's sheer genius! I swear to you, Joe, this girl is the greatest scorcher since Harlow I She makes Theda Bara look like Little Orphan Annie, and I've got nothing against Theda! Theda is a great gal, and nobody had ever better say anything again Theda in my presence, she's a great lady, and I bow to no man for admiring-"
"Stir, Stir, Stir," Joe said, gently shaking his head. "You're such a little boy. So gallant. That's why I like you so much, Stirling, you make me feel sweet."
When Joseph Gravimaster was nice to you like that, it was like getting a torpedo under the ribs.
I bowed my head.
"I could cry, Stirling."
"Me, too, Joe."
"I tell you what you do. You've got such faith in this girl, it's touching. You promote her, Stirling. You've got a deft hand at the biz, even if you have sort of goofed yourself up with the industry with this International Star Registry racket. Show us that deep down in your heart where it really counts, you're still the same old Stirling that we all know and love. You get out there and make that little girl of yours-irresistible!"
By George, I'd do it!
I'd do just that!
I'd show 'em all, including Joseph Gravimaster, Chief Producer of Acupuncture! I'd make Rolanda Rollswell the most wanted pussycat in Hollywood!
I had to con Rolanda just a little bit when I got back to the hotel that evening. Not really con her, you understand; just sort of reshape things a little bit.
"We're in business, sweetheart!"
"We are?"
"I conferred with my old pal, Joe Gravimaster of Acupuncture, today. The wheels are turning, the cogs are meshing."
"But Stirling, he's never even seen me!"
He doesn't have to, sweetheart. He's seen me. His old pal Stirling Steele. When Stirling speaks, walls crumble."
"Oh, Stirling! When do I get to meet him?"
"Soon, baby, soon. He told me, 'Stir, old pal, the competition is rough, and they're putting the pressure on me. These people in New York who run the financial end of Asupuncture, they've got no glands, they don't know what makes a star. So what we've got to do, we've got to cut the ground out from under them. I want to get a phone call from them saying, Joe, what's the matter with you, why haven't you signed this Rolanda Rollswell pussycat? And I'll say to them, I've got her sewed up, so ha-ha-ha! Think you can arrange that, Stir?' 'Can I!' I said. 'Joe, do you know anybody in the industry who is better qualified?' 'No,' he said, 'in this field I bow to you as my master. I need you, Stir. Please! Do this thing for me! I'm asking you as an old pal, get this girl's name out before the public where it belongs. I'll be forever grateful to you if you do me this favor!' I said, T will, Joe, I promise.' And he said, 'Thank you, Stir, thank you, I knew I could count on you! You're a real pal, and I want you to know that I won't forget you for this!' On which note, I soon thereafter departed, and I've been busy since fulfilling my promise to Joe."
"Stirling! How marvelous! What did you do then?"
"You'll see in the paper tomorrow morning, sweetheart. Just you wait."
Need I add that I experienced a marvelous night?
The next morning I showed Rolanda an item in a gossip column.
"Who was the gorgeous platinum blonde who burned down half of Hollywood last night? Rolanda Rollswell, that's who, and Agent Stirling Steel wasn't kidding when he said he had the hottest sexplosion to hit this jaded old town in many a moon. Stirling says the bidding is still open, but your key-puncher happens to know that one of our biggest producers is running well ahead of the pack...."
"Stirling! That's my name!"
"Indeed it is, darling."
And a pretty penny it had cost me to get it there, too.
The next morning she found her name on her own.
"No, that fight at Scandia last night between TV's Marshall and Sheriff wasn't over Neilson ratings. It was Rolanda Rollswell, and who could blame the boys? Rolanda emerged from the fray unscathed, thank goodness. Hysterical, her dress ripped practically off, but always a lady, she was escorted home by Agent Stirling Steele, lucky gent. Rolanda, let me next time...."
"But I didn't see any fight last night!"
"There was one."
"But not over me!"
"How do you know?"
"But I wasn't even in it! I didn't have my dress ripped practically off-"
"Honey, what a short memory you have!"
"Another fight over Rolanda Rollswell last night-Seems the boys just can't stay away from her....
They fight over her like you-know-what's over a don't-you-know. Can you blame them?...."
This was getting expensive.
But, oh, the nights!
When I got a certain telephone call....
"Stirling, buddy! This is Sam!"
"Sam sweetheart!"
"Lover, I quiver over those items you've been planting on your Rolanda chick!"
"Sam! So help me! Everyone of those items is for real!"
"Don't kid me, lover!"
"No, no, really! Honest, Sam, I'm overwhelmed! I knew that this kid had it, but I never dreamed! Sam, I'm holding a hot wire, and it's killing me! I've been waiting for this one for years!"
"No kidding? Well, anyway, I've got this boy Dirk Dogwood. You know him he's real hot, the hottest-"
"Who? I didn't catch the name."
"Dirk Dogwood! Now, don't tell me you've never heard of Dirk Dogwood-?"
"Oh! Oh, sure. Dog Dirkwood, a real winner." A nothing. A real nothing.
"Dirk .Dogwood! So-heh-heh-how about we should do a cupid, Stir lover?"
"Well-ah-I got to think about that, Sam."
"You got to think about it! Stir, my boy is hot! You'll be doing yourself a real favor! Listen, baby, they'll make a terrific combo!"
"You know, I think you're right? I'll consider carefully and talk to Rolanda and let you know."
... that meant things were beginning to roll. So did the unplanted gossip items that started showing up.
"Rolanda Rollswell, on Stirling Steele's arm, was one of the zingiest numbers at the premiere last night. Stirling, why haven't you introduced me to this ball of platinum fire before?...."
And:
"What superstar waltzed glamour-waif Rolanda Rollswell right out of poor Stirling Steel's arms last night? Shame on you, Mr Longyard!...."
"Gee, he was wonderful!" Rolanda said next morning. "I should have gone home to bed with him!"
"You should not!" I said sternly. "Not unless I tell you to. Remember, honeypot, what you got we don't sell cheap!"
She giggled. "You're getting in free!"
"That's a different matter entirely. I have to keep my client relaxed and happy, don't I?"
"Stirling, you're a scream!"
If Joseph Gravimaster thought that Stirling Steele had turned out to be just another yahoo on the grift, he was wrong.
I had no illusions. That morning I'd seen him, he'd given me a brush in a nice way. He'd never really expected me to promote Rolanda the way I did. But he didn't know Rolanda. He didn't know I really had something to work with.
She was not some dog I was ashamed to be seen in public with. In fact, when I took her around to the spots, especially after tie first week of gossip column items, my only real fear was that I'd get trampled in the stampede.
"Hello, Stirling."
"Hi, Frank."
"Hi, Stir baby!"
"Oh, hello, Dean."
"How's it going, Stir?"
"Great, Sammy, great."
And finally, not three weeks after we'd blown into town, I got a call I'd dreamed of.
"Hey, Stirling, you took me at my word!"
"Joe, you think I don't listen to you with respect? You think I don't take you seriously? Joe, you should know by now I feel like a son to you, my own father couldn't be dearer to me. You tell me, Stirling, give this chick a name-your boy Stirling is going to give this chick a name! And I want you to know that Rolanda is grateful for your advice. By long distance, she's contracted a great fondness for you, Joe."
"She has, huh?"
"She says to me. 'Tell that kind Mr. Gravimaster that I appreciate his giving me a single thought!'"
"It was nothing, it was nothing."
"It meant the world to her, Joe."
"Yeah, well, all bull aside, Stirling, you still want me to appraise this doll of yours?"
"I would be ever so grateful. I'd regard it as a deep personal favor. And an elephant doesn't forget."
"So, okay. I'm giving a small party tomorrow evening, just a couple of dozen close personal friends, nothing fancy, completely informal. Just some eats for supper, some drinks, go swimming in the pool, yak it up-you know."
"I know, Joe!" My heart is beating like a tom-tom for a burlesque stripper.
"You could bring this blonde of yours around with you, I'll take a look at her. If the party gets to really swinging, you might even sleep over."
"Joe, when you see this girl she's so hot you're going to wilt!"
"Wilt, I should hope not! Up and at 'em, that's my motto!"
"Ho-ho-ho, Daddy-o!"
"Keep your bird flying, Sonny boy!"
CHAPTER NINE
Rolanda was very nervous. who could blame her?
I was nervous myself. "Stirling, what should I wear?"
"I don't know," I said, distracted by my own thoughts.
"Well, if you don't know, how should I know?"
"Go pick something out. I'll tell you if it's all right."
"But I don't know what-"
"Go pick something out!"
"Something sexy?"
"Well, of course! You want to show up looking like a witch of Endor or something? Are you auditioning for Lady Macbeth?"
"You don't have to get mad!"
We now had adjoining rooms, and two rooms had always seemed like a waste of money, but oh, well. When she called for me to come in, I went.
And got jolted.
Every so often-say, about once an hour-I rediscovered what lust-bait Rolanda really was, if you know what I mean. This was one of those times.
"Baby!"
"Okay?"
"Yeah-if we can get there without being picked up by the cops!"
Actually, there wasn't much danger of that, not in this town. I've seen more than one chick in the same kind of outfit in the evening. But those chicks weren't Rolanda. And when she put on that same clinging white lace dress she'd worn when I'd first met her....
And when that was all she put on, no bra, no panties, just the dress and a pair of white pumps....
"I've noticed that a lot of girls out here don't wear undies," she said defensively.
"Yeah," I said hoarsely, "but they don't wear them because it's a hot, semi-tropical climate! And it's a hot, semi-tropical climate because you don't wear them!"
"You think I should put something more on-?"
"Don't! Don't touch a thing! You're perfect as you are!"
"You think Mr. Gravimaster will like me?"
"If he doesn't, he died last night!"
As a matt-er-of-fact, even if Joe Gravimaster had died six months ago he would have gone hard for Rolanda. She was enough to make an Egyptian mummy invite her into a bedroom. Behind the white lace her pink nipples twinkled like signal lights that certainly didn't mean Stop! And elsewhere there was all sweet succulent flesh tones and, if you looked closely, silver. You caught the dark shadow of her wishing well of a navel and, when she turned, the shadowed outline of each round dream of a buttock.
She looked more naked than most women do nude.
We arrived at Joe's at dusk, not the best hour or light for every woman, but great for Rolanda. But then any hour of light was great for Rolanda.
How can I describe our visit?
A triumph!
Joe himself met us at his door. Good old Joe, his bald head glistening, his eyes popping behind his plaid-rimmed glasses. Below his Bermuda shorts his knobby knees wobbled. His flamboyant sports shirt was all aflutter as he raised his arms toward Rolanda.
"Sweetie, I've heard so much about you, I must kiss you !"
"Oh, I'd be so happy!" Smack! Smack! Smack!
They grappled in the hallway, kissing lustily, and Joe grabbed a couple of fast feels.
"Stirling! You only told me she was glorious! You've been holding back on me! Why didn't you tell me all, Stir!"
"Modesty forbade," I said diffidently, fighting back that surge of jealousy which is my tragic flaw.
"Stirly-burly has told me all about you, Mr. Gravimaster," Rolanda said. "I feel that I've known you for years!"
"Then you must call me Joe, sweetheart. And welcome to the fold."
"Welcome-tee-hee-to my fold, too, Joe darling!"
"Oh, Stirling!" Joe rasped. "You've really got something here! I mean, I've got a thing on for this doll already!"
He meant it. I knew he meant it. Honest to Batman, I could have danced a damn gavotte right there in the doorway.
Hadn't I known? Hadn't I always said? Just show this bolt of yardgoods to any red-blooded man in the industry and he'd break his arm trying to rip off a few strips. She was the tastiest box of candy to swing her bonbons down Sunset since the moon first came up on this crummy burg.
Joe wasn't the only one Rolanda impressed. As he'd said, he'd invited a couple of dozen intimate friends, and they all nearly hiked up their girdles or dropped their pants. And I do mean that Joe had some of the creamiest morsels and biggest studs in the land on the premises. There were dainties there that men all over the world dreamed of tasting, and there were skirt connisseurs there all set to gobble them up.
Chief among the dainties was, of course, Rouge Ronson, Joe's current bed-partner. Need I describe the fabulous Franco-American actress? When she saw Rolanda, those dark eyes flashed. She gave that magnificent head of long red hair an arrogant toss. Her proud nostrils flaired as she sniffed competition.
I am willing to admit quite ungrudgingly that if there was a woman or two in the crowd who could have given Rolanda competition, not last among them was Rouge Ronson. She had a pair of tits that made what most women had look like deflated balloons. The same thing went for her internationally acclaimed hips-newsmen had once voted her The Kitten I'd Most Like to Interview in the Nude. This evening she was wearing a simple little yellow dress that was loosely laced down a V-cut front low enough to show her frilly white panties. I do appreciate an imaginative dress.
But she wasn't the only competition. There was cornsilk-blonde Gail Grabgun, reputed to have one of the sweetest tummies in Hollywood. Gail was wearing a red plaid pants suit, the jacket open over blouseless braless boobs and the pants cut impossibly low, in order to display her most noted-or notorious-attribute. And then there was cute little jet-haired Fritzi Footloose, clad in the black that was her trademark-black leather boots, black mini-skirt, black mini-bra under a black lace jacket.
Probably every man in the joint had been wondering if he couldn't get one of those three women alone with her panties down-until Rolanda had walked onto the scene.
It bade fair to be an evening that would go down in Hollywood history.
We circulated together and separately. I could see that Joe was quite happy to have me fall by the wayside while he clung to Rolanda's waist and patted her rump, and I was quite happy to have things that way despite my surges of jealousy. I watched Rolanda's free-swinging uninhibited walk, and I began to get a hard on for her all over again myself. We hadn't played any games the night before because I'd had a hunch we'd both better save all the strength we had.
There was a big buffet spread in the dining room. When Joe said, "Eat! Eat when you please! If you don't like the chow, we'll send out for anything you want!" we ate. A tape kept turning out dance music, and we danced between bites. Or chattered. Or drank.
"Well, well, well. That's what I like about Joe's parties. Some of my dearest friends show up."
I was standing at the buffet packing my tonsils in caviar when I heard that all too familiar voice. I might have known that Papson Terhune would be there.
"Honey lamb!" I greeted him.
"Poopsie!"
"Sweetiepie!"
"Lollypop!"
The s.o.b.
A very handsome guy, let me admit it. Taller than me, lankie, with lighter brown, curlier hair. A thin face and boudoir eyes.
And an unforgiveable habit of roping my clients.
"I understand you brought the aluminum bucket," he said.
"The girl of your dreams? Who else?"
"Not my dreams, sonny boy."
"Now, don't tell me that you're not going to try to lasso the wench!"
"Me hook that hooker? You're crazy."
I was off-base for an instant. Then I realized-he was trying to get my guard down.
"Baby," I said, '"fess up. You're green with envy. This is one client you're not going to take away from Stirling Steele. Stirling Steele and Lacey Maross would rather fight than switch!"
"Sweetie!" he said. "You hurt me! I have never in my life grabbed one of your clients! Ethics is my middle name! Just because a couple of my clients were your clients before they became my clients, that doesn't mean-"
"I got this one sewed up, lover. Sewed up in catgut and nylon. You're looking at the next great Sex Goddess, and you know it. And she's mine, all mine."
His eyes widened.
"Why you're serious," he said.
"You can bet your brass fillings I'm serious."
"But ... but ... I figured she was just some hot night crawler you-"
"Night crawler!"
"I beg your pardon, Stirling," he said most humbly, "but I figured that she was just something you and Lacey Maross picked up in this so-called International Star Registry racket I've been hearing about."
"Yes," I replied hotly, "we did locate her through our Registry, so you can tell your friends it's not just a racket, baby! We had to do a heap of looking, but we found what we wanted! A new star! A great star! A terrific-"
"Stirling, please don't hit me for saying this, because you're clear to my heart, but have you actually viewed this girl from any angle other than the horizontal?"
You want to know one of the things I like least about Payson Terhune? He shook my confidence. Against all evidence and all logic, he actually shook me!
"Sweetheart," I said with strained patience, "I have viewed the dumplings from all angles."
"But the way she walks-"
"What's the matter with the way she walks?"
"Never mind."
"Come on, tell me! What's the matter with the way Rolanda walks?"
"Stirling, you're my friend. I regard you with great affection. I did not come here to get my bridgework ruined. Just love me, Stirling, for my own stupid offensive self and forget that I said a thing."
But I was not to be put off. Not Stirling Steele. Not by the likes of Payson Terhune.
"Just tell me one thing," I said. "Given the chance, would you or would you not jump between the sheets with that broad?"
"In an instant," he admitted flatly.
"With alacrity."
"With promptitude, zeal, and cheerful readiness."
"And, you might add, with enthusiasm."
"I most certainly would!" Payson beamed in Rolanda's direction. In fact, fanaticism would be more the word. I'm a staunch advocate of expert sexual exercise to banish pimples, clear up the complexion, tone the muscles, steady the nerves-"
"Well, then!" I pronounced triumphantly.
"Maybe you're right, Stirling. First things should be first, and that girl puts so much first that nothing else much seems to matter, does it? And she does have a certain style of her own."
"That's the word! Style! Style!"
"She has got something," Payson murmured.
I felt better, much better. Payson had a style of his own, too, and part of it, in my opinion, was to shake your confidence in your own judgment. Then when you failed to produce at a high enough level for a few months, in he'd step to pick up the ball you'd dropped.
But Rolanda he wasn't getting. No, sir.
Oh, I loved the way male lips slavered and female complexions turned green that night!
Even Rouge Ronson. Can you imagine a green complexion with all that flaming red hair?
"Stirling, lover," she said with that faint French accent which thickens so sexily on the screen, "did Joe pay you to bring around that fugitive from a bordello?"
"Why, Rouge honey! What do you think I am? Some kind of miserable procurer?"
"You're not miserable at all. You're perfectly happy in your profession, any one can see that."
"Lambie pie, cut the cat talk and tell me your frank opinion. You're an expert at the flesh game-"
"I'm an artist!"
"That's what I said, an expert. I value your opinion. Do you think that this kid has got any chance in the big league at all?" Butter 'em up, that's my motto, butter 'e mup!
She shrugged haughtily. Nobody can shrug haughtily better than Rouge Ronson. One shoulder and the big boob on that side went up-that boob went up under the red silk like a helium-filled basketball trying to escape from a tent. Then the other shoulder and the other boob started up. The first boob reached a zenith and started down, but the second one kept on rising. Then it hit its zenith too-almost as high as my should-er-and settled down with the first one.
What consummate artistry! But I'd bet a night with Rolanda that Miss R. could do the same thing even better.
"I really would love to have your opinion," I said, not really caring at all.
"With luck, you little friend should have her hour," Rouge said. "But no more than an hour. Without luck, she's good for a fast five minutes out on the terrace."
Oh, was she jealous!
"Honest, honey?" I asked trying to look stricken. "You don't think she's any better than that?"
"Poor boy," she said with a pitying smile, "do you know how many bedrooms there are in this house? Starlets and would-be starlets come and go. My bedroom remains!"
Oh, yeah?
I'd heard that from Sex Goddesses before.
The night wore on. We ate, we danced, we drank, a few people went for a dip in the pool. I kept a careful eye on Rolanda. She was obviously the prime center of magnetic attraction at the party.
I also kept a careful eye on Rouge, and more than once I saw her cast a malevolent look at my platinum blonde client. Here and there she dropped a verbal jibe, and she collected a titter or two, but not the kind of laughter she usually got when her claws were bared. She wasn't as confident of her position as she pretended, and she was getting less confident all the time.
That worried me somewhat. I'd warned Rolanda that she'd better not try to cross blades with any of these people until she got to know their style. But I was afraid that Rouge might try to force some kind of duel.
She didn't. She might have, but she didn't. You might say that before she really had her rapier out and up, Rolanda had whisked it right out of her hand.
It happened like this.
About half the guests were in the pool, seven or eighty lithe-limbed beauties in bikinis and bikini bottoms and toplesses and several men in the usual. The rest of us were watching, some of us from under a brightly lit canopy where the bar was readily at hand. We sat on the usual patio chairs, and Joe and some others were stretched out on chaise lounges or whatever you call 'em.
Rolanda was sitting upright at Joe's side. Aside from time spent making the rest of his guests comfortable, he'd kept near Rolanda most of the evening.
Then Rouge had to try that old ploy, a remark about her competition's hair. At first I wasn't paying attention, and I didn't even hear what was said.
But then I heard Rouge say, "But I really mean it! I've never seen such hair. It's really very pretty!"
"Thanks again," Rolanda said, no sign of strain in her smile.
"I know I shouldn't ask you your profession secrets, but I do wish you'd tell me the name of your hairdresser."
"Oh, he's back in St. Louis. I've been doing my hair myself since I got here."
I tried to catch Rolanda's eye to signal her to play it cool, but she ignored me.
"You've been doing your hair yourself?" Rouge asked with amazement. "But it hardly looks like an amateur job-if you keep on practicing, darling, one of these days you're going to be doing mine!"
"Thank you. I'm really quite flattered."
Rolanda's smile broadened. Didn't she know she was getting the old put-on?
"No, I'm not flattering you, I mean every word I say. The thing that amazes me is the tone of your hair. It looks so real, so perfectly natural!"
"Why, it is natural," Rolanda said, deeply pleased.
"Oh, my dear, that can't be true!"
"Really, it is."
"But I simply can't believe that! I know they can do perfectly marvelous things these days about disguising the roots, but-no, you're joking with me, my dear!"
"I'm not joking in the slightest." Rolanda's smile never wavered.
"Oh, come now. I've tried to be very complimentary. Not all of us can have-" she gave her flaming mane a shake "-real hair that is beautiful. You have nothing to be ashamed of-"
Rolanda laughed-quite naturally. "But I'm not ashamed!"
By now every ear in the vicinity was tuned in on these two, including mine. I knew how this would wind up, and I cringed for Rolanda.
I needn't have.
"Then why do you keep insisting that your hair is naturally-"
"But it is!"
As she spoke, always smiling, Rolanda stood up. And as she stood up, she lifted the front of her skirt. And as she lifted the front of her skirt, she stepped the few paces to where Rouge was sitting.
And she kept right on lifting her skirt until it was up to her tummy, to her navel, to her rib cage.
Rouge stared at what Rolanda was showing her.
We all stared.
At those beautiful thighs, at the lovely tummy, at that luxuriously silv-er-pelted mound.
"Beat that, honey," Rolanda said in the most friendly manner possible.
There was a long, long pause.
Actually, it was only, five or six seconds, but it was the longest five or six seconds in modern history.
Then-give Rouge credit-she laughed and stood up. "I don't know if I can beat it, my dear, but I can certainly match it."
She was smart. She didn't do any tease. She just said, "And now I think I'll go swimming," and as casually as if she were alone, she kicked off her shoes, shrugged her way out of her dress, and started peeling off her frilly white panties.
But she got no audience as she doffed her panties.
Because Rolanda immediately turned to Gravimaster, put a knee on the chaise beside him, and leaned over him.
And said, "Please, Joe this dress clings-would you mind helping me out of it?"
And every eye turned on the pair as Joe, with trembling fingers, peeled Rolanda's dress the rest of the way up and off her naked body.
"I'll be glad to prove I'm a natural brunette!" I croaked.
Nobody seemed interested.
Up the white lace dress came, up and over Rolanda's head, and off.
Joe's eyes popped behind his glasses.
"Everybody in the pool!" he yelled. "Naked swim, naked swim!"
The rest of us knew the signals. We all started pulling our clothes off as fast as we could. Rouge had already turned, head high, and started toward the pool, tucking her tresses into a swimming cap, and we all hurried after her.
But not Rolanda and Joe.
I looked over my shoulder as I scrambled out of my trousers and briefs. Rolanda was still on one knee over Joe, who was stretched out on the chaise.
But now her head had gone down over his, and they were kissing.
A kiss that seemed to go on forever.
And Joe's hands moved over Rolanda's creamy buttocks....
And one hand slid up her body to cup a breast....
And Rolanda turned onto her side and sank onto the cushion of Joe's body....
And, as they kissed some more, I saw his hand traveling toward her bush....
In the interest of modesty-mine and theirs-I jumped into the pool.
Oh, yes, it was a night to be remembered.
"You think you're so smart," Rouge said, smiling, either in a good humor or trying to fake one.
"Why, baby doll, whatever do you mean?"
We stood at the shallow end of the pool, belly to belly, holding each other's hips, and leaning back from the waist. Frankly, I'd never dreamed that I'd ever be doing something like this with a Sex Goddess like Rouge Ronson, but I wasn't objecting. It felt good. You don't have to believe that if you don't want to, but it really did feel good!
"We know what you're doing!" someone shouted, but we ignored them.
"You and your sex bucket. I'll admit that she put me in my place, and I deserved it. I underestimated her. But I still say that others are transitory-Rouge Ronson stays."
"Honey," I said fervently, "I don't doubt that one bit!" At the moment I couldn't have spoken any other way than fervently. Those billowy wet clouds quivering before my eyes, those electric nipples only inches from my chest!
"Just so you understand," she said, smiling. "Baby, there is one thing I know. There is only one Rouge Ronsin!"
She laughed with pleasure, slipped out of my grip, and dived away.
Leaving me, shall we say, pointing out uncomfortably on the alert.
I went in pursuit of other lovelies. There were always Fritzi Footloose and Gail Grabgun, for instance. Rolanda's and Rouge's strip and Rolanda's little pet-party with Joe had really turned the party on and started it swinging. Now we all played grabsie tag in the pool, and various couples pursued each other, shrieking merrily, along the edge, either to leap into the water again or, occasionally, to disappear into outer darkness. Rolanda and Joe were nowhere to be seen. I'd spotted them quietly and casually disappearing in the direction of the house, Rolanda naked, Joe still in his shorts and sports shirt. And for an hour now I'd been sneaking looks, trying to see if they'd returned to the party.
I cursed my streak of jealousy. What was Rolanda to me? A meal ticket. A roll in the hay. Nothing personal. Yet I had to grit my teeth.
I got some distraction from blonde Gail and jet-haired Fritzi. Having brought Rolanda here and having had her favored by Joe had sent my stock way up, and for once I was pulling more attraction than Payson Terhune. It made no difference that Joe might well be putting the horns on me right now-I was a flesh-peddler, wasn't I, and I'd furnished flesh to the big man, the daddy of us all.
So at one time I had nude Gail climbing my back and naked Fritzi climbing up my front. Of the two, I was faintly inclined to favor Fritzi.
But I kept looking for Rolanda.
Finally she reappeared, walking toward the pool, a platinum blonde vision. She was still naked, as was everyone else-including Joe, who reappeared right after her. Yes, Joe had finally shed his shorts and shirt. Alone with Rolanda.
I gritted my teeth still harder.
Rolanda found a swimming cap, pulled it on, and lowered herself down the ladder into the water. She was the center of attention, and it was several minutes before we got together in one corner of the pool.
She grinned at me.
"He likes me," she said.
"I would never have guessed!"
"He really does," she said happily. "I've got it made. He really liked doing it to me."
"Doing what?" I asked, as if I didn't know.
"Studding me. I undressed him, and he laid me twice."
"Look, I thought we had an agreement! No sexing unless I gave you the go-ahead-"
"But, Stirling, I could hardly turn him down! And do you know what? He's really very good! You'd think that big tummy would get in the way, but it doesn't, not at all! And underneath that fat he's got a lot of hard muscle! I mean really hard, Stirling, and big! And he really knows how to get a girl going and keep her going-"
"All right, all right! So you had a good time-"
"He wants me to stay all night, Stirling-"
"So stay! Just keep praying you get a contract!"
I pushed away from her. I needed distraction, and I needed it badly. Fortunately there were plenty of girlies around who were willing to furnish it.
I got into a good game of grabsie tag with Fritzi and Gail and some others. Under the water, I grabbed at knockers and legs. Under the water, hands slid over my hard rod and sharp little teeth snapped at me.
I grabbed Gail by the waist and one thigh, and we sank, slithering together, to the bottom of the pool.
I lost my grip on Gail as fingers gave me lightning about the thighs.
I grabbed another girl's knee and bit her plump buttock.
Happy, excited cries came from the surrounding darkness.
"Can't catch me!" Fritzi challenged, and I went after her.
She scurried up the ladder out of the pool. I climbed after her, not caring who saw my hard-on. By this time I wasn't the only one.
She leapt nimbly over couples lounging along the pool's edge, laughing at me over her shoulder as I flopped after her. She pulled off her swimming cap and shook her black locks and ran for the bushes.
The grass was soft under my feet, and the night air was warm on my body. I was no longer thinking of Rolanda, only of Fritzi.
She ducked from tree to tree and from bush to bush, and the pool became increasingly distant, the light dimmer.
I finally caught her by one wrist. I yanked her naked body up against mine and encircled her waist with an arm.
As I kissed her and our tongues met, the wiggling of her body to get free became a slow urgent caress, a request to be taken.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked in a weak whisper as we sank to our knees.
As I laid her back on the grass, I told her what I was going to do to her.
"Oh, yes!" she said as she raised her knees. "Oh, yes!"
I stroked her, readying her, and she repeated, "Oh, yes, yes...."
And I slid slowly in, loving her with long, deep, steady strokes.
What better way to celebrate Rolanda's triumph?
What better way to forget her?
CHAPTER TEN
The evening wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
A couple of hours later the party was still going hot and heavy, but Joe Gravimaster and I weren't part of it.
"Stirling, I'm all shook up."
His brow furrowed behind his plaid-rimmed glasses, he paced back and forth in his library. The fact that his glasses were the only thing he had on didn't detract from his dignity one whit. Naked or dressed he was all business man.
I relaxed on a sofa. The leather was as soft as a woman's skin against my own bare ass.
"Yes, Joe," I said, "I can see that you're disturbed."
"Disturbed is not the word, my boy. Excited! Shook! Overwhelmed! But not disturbed."
"My mistake."
He dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "No apologies needed. How could you know how this girl would affect me?"
"But I did know, Joe. I told you-"
"Yes, but I am shook even more than you know. Mr. Joe Gravimaster, industry tycoon, I should be playing it cool. I should remember that there's a bargaining table to face before I get control of this female sex hurricane. But shook as I am, I'm not kidding you one bit."
"I appreciate that."
"I've got to have that girl in my stable. I haven't even tested her yet, but I've got to have her before someone else grabs her."
"She'll be great."
"She is great! What magnetism! What talent!" He held up his thumb and forefinger in a circle. "And, man, what a snapper! And does she know how to work it. I mean, when she grabs you like this...." He demonstrated. "And starts working on you like this...."
"Joe, you're getting excited!"
"I can't help it! She's tremendous! I don't pretend to be calm!"
He continued pacing, very dignified even in his present state.
"Stirling," he said, "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you a gentleman's agreement."
Oh-ho!
"I will here and now promise you a contract. I'm sure we can arrive at mutually acceptable terms tomorrow, and I'll immediately have our lawyers draw the whole deal up. We should have the paper signed and sealed within a couple or three days. You will promise to show this girl to no other producer-in fact, I'll keep her under wraps right here in my own home as if she were my own daughter-and, Stirling, I will guarantee you ten thousand bucks honorarium for scouting up this talent for Acupuncture." Oh-no!
I'd been throwing money away like mad lately. Ten grand I could definitely use. Joe Gravimaster's word was good, but just the same I spent some time looking for loopholes in his proposition.
All of thirty seconds.
"Shake?" Joe asked, extending his hand.
I stood up and shook hands with him.
"Stirling, you're like a son to me-we got a deal!"
"Joe, you're a gentleman and a stud."
"Haw, haw!" He slapped my shoulder merrily. "Well, shall we rejoin the ladies and gents?"
"The hell with the gents."
"Haw!" He slapped me again. "Stirling, you might do me a small favor."
"Name it."
"It's Rouge. She's very insecure, Stirling. Such a child! Now she figures she's got competition, you know?"
"Oh, I know how women are."
"Don't we all? Stirling, you're a big man here tonight, and everybody knows it. You've scored agentwise, and you've got charisma kid, charisma. So pay a little attention to Rouge, will you, and cheer her up. Make her feel good. She'll appreciate a big time agent with charisma paying some attention to her and making her feel good."
"Will do, Joe, will do."
"You're a very understanding lad. Well, let's get back to the fun and games."
He led the way out of the library, stepping briskly ahead.
The world is yours, kid, I told myself. You've got it by the tail, balls and all.
I lingered behind in the hallway, and Joe disappeared ahead of me.
Why did I linger? To save my mood of triumph?
Only partly.
Partly because I'd seen what Joe hadn't.
I'd glanced up the long staircase, and there I'd seen Rouge. Now I stared. She leaned back against the wall rail, one foot on a step below the other, her naked body slightly arched forward. Her mouth was open just enough for me to see the glitter of her teeth. Her face was sullen and otherwise expressionless. I looked at the long firm legs, the masses of dark red hair.
She raised one hand.
And crooked a finger at me.
I went up the stairs. As I approached her, she turned from me and went on ahead. I followed, twenty feet behind, and when she came to a doorway, she stopped and looked to see if I was coming.
She went through the doorway. The moment I stepped through the door, she closed it and turned the lock.
We were in a bedroom, evidently her bedroom, and she was standing right beside me, almost touching me. "She's staying," Rouge said resentfully. "That blonde witch you brought is staying all night."
"What do you care?" I asked. "Honey, she's my client, but nobody knows her name yet, not outside of Hollywood. But you-the whole world knows you! Is there another woman in the world more exciting than Rouge Ronson?"
"Just the same, I don't like it. And I don't like the idea of being left alone when Joe is playing around."
Maybe I privately thought that Rolanda had it all over Rouge, but that didn't mean it wasn't thrilling to have this fabulous warm body beside me now, our naked skins only inches apart.
"I can't imagine you being left alone," I said, "when you don't want to be left alone."
She looked at me a few seconds, then swayed closer, and a soft round breast pressed aganst my arm. She moved a hand toward me. And I felt her fingers moving over sensitive nerve ends.
"Do you really find me exciting, Stirling?"
"Honey!" I said breathlessly as I proved that I did. "Look what you're doing to me!"
As her fingers tightened on my hot rod, I drew her into my arms. Her breasts flattened against my chest, the lust-thickened nipples digging at me. Her lips were thick and warm under mine. I slid a hand over a breast, squeezing it, stroking it, moving it, and her witch's fingers continued their magic toying, twirling through my hair.
Somehow we got to the bed. Going slowly as we caressed each other. I laid her back and took time to spread kisses over every curve of her breasts, over her nipples, over the slopes and hollows of her belly. With the tip of my tongue I tantalized every thing she presented to me-and she presented everything.
"Slip it to me," she said in a strained whisper as I got over her and she moved her legs to make herself completely available. "Take me! Love me!"
With no help from her, I found my way. Found what I wanted. And began slowly to help myself to what I wanted, pushing past the hot portal, going in inch by inch.
Joe was right-Rouge appreciated a man with charisma.
And I gave her all the charisma I had. Then we began swinging.
I wasn't just on top of Rouge Ronson-I was on top of the world.
I wasn't just taking Rouge-but the world!
I'd been a down-and-outer in a small town Southern jailhouse. I'd started a sweet little racket that raked in plenty of coin. I'd promoted a girl into the position where she'd be the next great Sex Goddess.
And now I was naked in bed with the fabulous Rouge Ronson, serving her need and mine with all my strength and skill, slipping and slopping in and out.
Suddenly she gave a choking cry, pressed hard against me, gripping me, and her nails cut like knives into my buttocks.
The pain turned to pleasure, pleasure of our mutual ecstasy.
I didn't know that my triumphant illusions were already on the verge of collapse....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Yes, the whole situation contained the beginnings of a downfall for Lacey and me, but that possibility never even occurred to me. All things considered, our progress had been so beautiful.
Joe and I didn't have any trouble coming to terms on the contract. After a night like the one I'd spent with Rouge, I didn't quite trust my judgment, but then Joe had spent a night with Rolanda. The next day he was just as beat as I was. But his enthusiasm was as great as ever.
"Sign right there, Stirling-you know where. I've already got a great role in mind to test her for-not any piddling supporting role, Stirling, a major role in a major picture!"
We signed. I stuck around for a few days, because Rouge had shown an unexpectedly great appreciation of my prowess in the sack, and she was a gal who needed her charisma every night. She was sort of huffy about Joe shacking up with Rolanda, so she moved out of his house and back to her own place, but that didn't break up our round of beautiful friendships. And her own bedroom was even better for sport, as the French say, then the one she had at Joe's.
Finally I headed back for the Midwest. Joe kept promising me that the check for ten grand would soon be forthcoming, but the eastern office had to be satisfied, and the boys there were slow moving. Meanwhile my cash reserve wasn't getting any bigger, though Lacey was doing business and sending me what he could. I figured I'd better get back on the stick and sell a few more chicks on how Hollywood was waiting for them even more eagerly than for Rolanda Rollswell.
Why can't the axe fall swiftly?
Why does it have to come down on your neck half an inch at a time?
"So you sold your blonde," Abby said when I returned. She didn't act in the slightest charmed to see me.
"That's right, baby doll! And that platinum witch is going to be your ticket to Hollywood! She's our opening-"
"I know, your opening wedge! I've heard all that before!"
"Why, baby doll, do you doubt me? Do you think I've forgotten you? Why, when I think of the way that you recite Romeo and Juliet-"
"You've never even heard me recite Romeo and Juliet!" she said disgustedly.
"Honey, honey, have you lost all faith? Baby, you're a part of this business! We take care of each other, we do-"
"Oh, sure, sure."
Do you know, it was a week before I could get her to go to bed with me? And it wasn't because Lacey was taking care of her, either. I know because I asked. Lacey was as worried about Abby as I was, maybe even more.
"Because we need this chick, Stirling! What do I know about these crazy accounts she keeps? I can hardly figure them out! Stirling, explain to me what these figures here mean-"
"Why ask me? Since when did I become a bookkeeper?"
"See? We need h-er-"
"Stop worrying. If she quits on us, we can always hire another girl."
"I hope so," he said, "but still I'm nervous about the whole idea."
So was I, but I tried to keep him from knowing it. Oh, why can't the axe fall swiftly! "Stirling, what about this ten grand Joe promised you?"
"Paperwork, red tape, details. It'll show up here any time now."
"But you should have gotten it by now. And why haven't you heard anything from Joe about Rolanda?"
"Why should I? We've got a contract, haven't we? Listen, I den't care if we never hear about Rolanda again except to collect our comnussien! That's all we've got to do, just sit back and let the money roll in."
"Then why doesn't it roll in?"
"It will, it will! And meanwhile we're making money on the Registry, aren't we?"
Yes, we were doing okay in that department. Oh, the boys and girls weren't coming in in the rush we'd had at first, but that was to be expected. I figured that now we were getting more like a normal flow. And once Rolanda got a national rep, which would come in the next few months, we'd probably have to contend with a new rush of people who wanted us to do for them when we'd done for her.
Is all of life an illusion?
Another week went by.
And another.
I undressed some very sweet dolls, made love to several of them, and played a couple of repeat matinees with Rolanda's old pal Ceila Switch. I had a number of pleasant things to occupy my mind.
But why didn't I hear from Joe Gravimaster?
I sent a couple of wires to him, asking him how things were going, but I got no reply. The same thing happened when I wired Rolanda. And I couldn't get either of them on the phone.
"Your opening wedge?" Abby said sarcastically. "The girl who was going to put you back into circulation in Hollywood? The girl who was going to make it possible for you to make me a star?"
"Aw, shut up, and put your clothes back on!"
Abby was needling me more all the time, and I was getting sick and tired of it. I hadn't wanted her around in the first place.
That was exactly what she said to me one morning.
"You didn't want me around in the first place. So I'm getting out."
"Abby baby," Lacey objected, "you can't do this to us! We need you-"
"I thought I needed you too. I thought you were going to make me a big Hollywood star. Oh, boy, what a sucker I was!"
"Give us time, honey!"
"You haven't even made any motions toward promoting me! You've even stopped kidding me that you plan to! Whenever the subject comes up, you act bored to death!"
"Let her go," I said.
"But she hasn't even given us two weeks notice!"
"Be big! Give her a bonus! If she doesn't appreciate us, let her go! And after all the plans I had for that girl-"
"But where will she go? What will she do?"
Abby answered for me. "I'll go to New York, maybe, and go on the stage. Or maybe to Hollywood and become a big star without your help. Or maybe I'll just go home and get me a guee-tar and practice and become an even greater star than Flora Bedwise. But don't you think I can't get along without you!"
Lacey paid her an exorbitant bonus, and she left.
"Stirling," he said in an anguished voice the next morning, "I can't make head or tails of these accounting books! Or these bank statements! But I have a horrible suspicion that Abby has practically cleaned us out!"
"She wouldn't do that!" I said, stricken to the core.
"Maybe not, but we'd better buy ourselves a bookkeeper right away!"
"Can we afford one?"
We didn't have time to find out.
That afternoon the axe at last cut through the juglar.
Lacey and I were both in the reception room when the door practically flew off its hinges. I could hardly believe my eyes as Rolanda shot into the room, boobs abounce and fire in her eyes.
And following her came her old man, Roland Rolls-well, red-faced with rage.
And following Rolanda came half a dozen uniformed cops and plainclothesmen, all of them over six feet tall.
Rolanda pointed at Lacey and me.
"Arrest both of them!" she screamed. "They're the ones who did me dirty!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
I don't want to think about the months that followed.
Ask me for details, and I'll start bawling.
There we were sitting on top of the world, Lacey and me, then the whole deal started sagging like an aging madam's bosom. Then whammo!-we were headed right back for jail, when we'd only gotten out a matter of weeks earlier.
But you know the broad outlines of what happened. Remember all those newspaper stories?
Of course, old man Rollswell couldn't make the white slavery charge stick. He may have been a big gun politically, but he wasn't that big. And he couldn't make the charge that we were operating a racket stick, because we'd done everything nice and legally and fulfilled every promise we'd made.
Why, Acupuncture Productions even verified the fact that we'd gotten his daughter a contract!
Naturally, Rollswell wanted to drag his daughter's name into the mess as little as possible. Her story was that we'd shipped her to Hollywood where she'd been forced to attend an orgy of some sort and that nasty men kept taking her clothes off and trying to seduce her. I'd gone off and deserted her, she charged, no doubt after collecting a nice price for her fair white body.
I only wished I had!
In the end, it seemed that there was nothing against us whatever. Maybe Rollswell had managed to smear our International Star Registry so that it would never draw us in another penny-at least not under that name and not without a front-and maybe he'd caused us to burn most of what was left of our roll on lawyers, but that was all he could do to us.
That's what you think.
You'd be surprised at what politically influential people can do to you if they want to. Or maybe you wouldn't. They threw that same old resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law business at us. Thirty days on each count. And then they dug up some old law about a special business license we were suppose to have but didn't. The penalty was only thirty dollars or thirty days, but do you think the judge would let us pay the thirty dollars?
That made a total of ninety days.
And we served every last one of them.
This time there wasn't any sex-starved Abby Billings. This time there wasn't any sex-happy "Judge" Minerva Hawkins. This time there was no office set up in a cell, no electric typewriter, no private telephone. We suffered.
But now I'm getting into matters which affect me badly. When I think of those days, I develop this twitch, see? I get this wild eye, and I start to tremble. And my doctor says I must outgrow the trauma with out the aid of tranquilizers, so I have nothing in the world to help me but booze and dames.
I will admit that they do help.
Never will I forget my next meeting with Joseph Gravimaster, Big Daddy of Acupuncture Productions. Many was the cell-bound night that I contemplated beating his brains out, but what can you do? I mean, if he'd only kept to our contract, Lacey and I would never have landed in the can again, but we were still agents-without clients-and Joe was still a very big man in the industry. We needed him a lot more than he needed us.
So we were not unhappy when, upon arriving in Hollywood shortly after our release from stir, he invited us to his place for a very special party.
"It's tonight, and you must come, you must cornel I want to show you boys that I am not a man without heart. And my heart is in the right place. Some very important people will be at this blow-out, and you'll make terrific contacts. It will be a costume affair-"
"What kind of costumes?"
"Never mind! I'll have costumes for both of you!"
Okay, you don't turn down an invitation like that. Not if you're in the flesh-peddling racket and the invitation is from Joseph Gravimaster.
When he met us in his front hall that evening, he was dressed in nothing but a hunk of mangy looking fur around his waist. His big belly looked as if it would push the fur off him at any instant. Some of the guests had already arrived, and two of them were flanking him.
Brunette Fritzi Footloose in a black fur bikini.
Blonde Gail Grabgun in a leopard skin that failed to cover one breast and either of her sides.
"Boys," Joe roared, "I'm so happy to see you! I feel that I owe you something, and that's why you're here tonight! Please say you'll sleep over!"
Looking at the blonde and the brunette, I was sorely tempted. In fact, I hadn't the slightest doubt that I'd accept the invitation. But a man has to show some pride, doesn't he?
So I merely smiled sweetly and sadly and said, "Joe, Joe, why did you do it?"
"Yeah, Joe-Joe," Lacey said sweetly and sadly, "how come?"
Joe looked pained.
"Boys! Believe me. She was a nothing."
"A nothing!" I yelped. "She was glorious!"
"In the flesh, yes! I agree, oh, how I agree. But, Stirling! Lacey! She couldn't read a line straight! A second-grader could read a line more convincingly-"
"But why should she be an actress?" Lacey asked. "People would just look at her!"
"And what would they see?" Joe looked at us imploringly. "That walk of hers. That crazy walk!"
"That sexy walk!" I exclaimed.
"In the flesh, yes. But on the screen-boys, she looked saddle-sore! She looked as if she'd just got off a horse after a week of hard riding and was permanently crippled! Boys, she moved around a movie set like a drunken cow, and who goes to the movies to watch a drunken cow?"
We looked at Joe. Stunned. Seeing the truth of it all.
"Boys, you know I made the contract contingent on her passing a test. I meant it when I said I wanted to test her for a major role. But I would never commit myself to an unknown quantity, boys. And believe me for a month we worked with her, trying to make her look as good on the screen as on the hoof, and I was too busy and embarrassed to communicate with you. And in the end ... nothing...."
"Nothing," echoed Lacey.
"Nothing," I joined in.
A long moment's pause. As for the dead. In me-morium.
Then a big smile covered Joe's face clear to the fur-trimmed rims of his glasses. He put an arm around each of the girls.
"But I've got a surprise for you boys! These girls feel like switching agents! See if you can persuade 'em that you're the best men!"
Good old Joe. I could have wept.
"Now, take the boys upstairs, girls, and give them their costumes! This is a cave man party, boys! We are celebrating the primitive! In honor of Joe Gravi-master's latest triumph!"
You can imagine how much better I felt. I didn't even ask what Joe's latest triumph was. The girls led us up stairs, and on the way Lacey's arm somehow got around Fritzi's waist, and I somehow found myself snuggling up to Gail. How nice to see these sweet little love-buckets again!
The brunette led Lacey one way, and the blonde led me another. She took me into a bedroom.
"Are you going to sleep over?" she asked, grinning at me.
"I guess I am."
"So am I-tee-hee! This is my room."
"Oh I thought it might be mine."
"I guess it is-tee-hee! Such confusion!"
"Such charming confusion."
She handed me a little piece of fur. "Here's your costume. Want me to help you put it on?"
Now, I know that this may sound immodest, but it wasn't as if we hadn't gone skinny-dipping together only a few months before. I mean, we were friends. And besides she was a client now, wasn't she?
So naturally I let her undress me.
"Do you know what?" I asked.
"What?"
"I'll bet we'd look a lot cuter if you wore my costume and you wore mine."
"Do you think they'd fit?" she asked wide-eyed. "Let's find out."
"Well ... all right."
So I helped her take off the leopard skin.
Gee, she looked pretty, standing there by the bed, completely naked. Those high, widely spaced globes, those budding nipples, those long seductive flanks....
And I hadn't had a woman for almost four months.
"Oh!" she said, looking at my cock stretch out and throb. "Look at you!"
"Oh, she said, "those. I thought you meant-
"They wouldn't fit," I said hoarsely, pushing her back onto the bed.
"What wouldn't?"
"The costumes."
"Oh, no! I think I can guarantee a perfect fit in that department. I'll show you."
"But-but the party!" she said as I lifted her farther onto the bed and caressed her naked body. "Do you think we'll have time?"
"We'll make time! I always make time for my clients!"
No more arguments. She let me do as I pleased. And she did some mighty pleasing things herself.
Eventually, I slid slowly into her.
"Oh, Stirling!" she panted as I sliced her to the hilt and we worked up a gallop. "Oh, lover! Take all the time you want!"
There'd never been any question in my mind that I would.
Things really didn't turn out too badly for Lacey and me, you see. We didn't have any great superstar Sex Goddess as a client, but we did have a pair of clients, a mighty accommodating pair at that. We were in circulation again. Our clientele would grow, and we'd make a living.
There is one little footnote which should be added to this scenario. A little epilogue, so to speak. A coda.
After our frolic in the bedroom, Gail and I thanked each other warmly and congratulated each other on our art. We both looked forward with the greatest of anticipation to other bouts before the night was over. We put on our cave man costumes and went to join the others downstairs. Shortly thereafter, Lacey and Fritzi also put in an appearance, looking, shall we say, limp but happy.
Eats were on the buffet-chops and chicken and other stuff that we could gnaw off the bone cave-man style. To fit the occasion, Joe had supplied the several bars in the house with fermented mare's milk, which he said was the oldest alcoholic beverage known to man. Me. I preferred Scotch and soda. The taped music to which we danced was also on the primitive side.
The night was warm and the pool was heated, so we periodically doffed our fur pieces and went for dips, playing happy games of grabsie assie in the pool. There was a certain amount of petting and love-making going on, as when Gail and I went out into the bushes for our second screw, but it was discreet. I mean, this particular party was really quite sedate, not one of those terrible Hollywood sex orgies that you read about.
It was after midnight when Joe called for everybody's attention. He stood on the far side of the pool, and we all faced him.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he said when he had our ears. "No doubt you're wondering why I've asked you here. No doubt you're wondering what is this triumph which yours truly, Joseph Gravimaster, celebrates.
"Well, boys and girls, you're about to find out!"
"You wonder why we are all wearing cave-man skins, right! This is a clue! You know and I know the basis of all successful money-making artistic films. The primitive! The primeval! Great passion and great violence! Deep down in our hearts we are all cave men and cave women, right?
"Men do combat for their mates! Women scratch each other's eyes out for the stud who will give them blessed little children! Like the intellectuals say, Eros and Thanatos! Adam and Eve! War Gods and Sex Goddesses and all like that! Am I right?"
"You're right, Joe," everybody said.
"So tonight we're celebrating the primitive-in a nice civilized sort of way, of course. And why are we celebrating the primitive, you may well ask?
"Let Joseph Gravimaster answer.
"We celebrate because Joseph Gravimaster has found a great symbol of the primitive. Perhaps the greatest symbol of man's primitive emotions yet discovered. And you know what a creative mind I have-I struck upon this as the most appropriate way of presenting this symbol to the world for the first time."
He paused and looked at his wrist watch, which he'd donned at some time during the evening.
And at that moment I heard the sound of an engine.
A helicopter.
"Okay, you guys," Joe yelled to a couple of his studio executives who were at the party, "get on those lights!"
The sound of the helicopter got closer.
Then the lights went on, two search lights whose beams converged. And we all looked up.
The helicopter was lowering a small platform from a winch. And standing on the platform as on a trapeze, arms up to hold the supporting wires, was a white figure.
A woman's figure, we saw, as the platform lowered toward us.
A completely naked woman.
All lights but the ones trained on the woman were out, and she descended like a Venus. Reaching up as she was, her breasts were held high. They weren't large breasts, but they were perfectly round, perfectly formed the nipples brightly pink. She was slim-waisted and slim-hipped, but the slim hips made her beautiful legs look even longer then they were.
She was a Sex Goddess all right. The real thing. We all knew it, and there wasn't a man there who didn't envy Joseph Gravimaster for what he was probably getting from this girl.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Joe yelled. "Let me present-Yvonne Feverish!"
"Represented by Payson Terhune, Incorporated," I heard Payson say somewhere in the darkness.
The crowd applauded and raved: "Joe, she's wonderful! ... She's marvelous! ... She's superb!"
"You should hear her recite Romeo and Juliet!" Joe said as Abby "Yvonne Feverish" Billings jumped from the platform into the swimming pool.
Lacey wandered over to where Gail and I were standing.
"Well, Stirling," he said.
"Well, Lacey."
He shrugged. What else could he do? "That's show biz," he said.
