The girl's name was Lola Trent. There was nothing wrong with the last name, but when you looked at the girl you'd immediately wonder how she ever got tagged with the first name of Lola. As a rule, girls seem to grow up to fit their given name.
Not Lola.
It would seem that a girl named Lola would be very much on the sexy side. It would seem that she'd have big, bulging breasts, and well-rounded hips, and a narrow waist, and a cute little buttocks that would sway back and forth when she walked.
Not Lola Trent.
At least, not so you could tell it anyway.
It would seem that a girl named Lola would just naturally wear a lot of lipstick and mascara, smoke cigarettes and take a drink at least once in a while.
Not Lola Trent.
It would seem that a girl named Lola, especially one who was on the short side in height like Lola Trent, would wear high spike heels, skirts that struck her slightly above her knees, and give the guys a real eyeful every time she sat down or crossed her legs.
Not Lola Trent.
The big thing in her favor as far as the men knew was that she had a beautiful face and that she possessed golden blonde hair and kept it looking as if she had just stepped out of a beauty parlor.
She wore flats on her tiny feet, skirts that struck her about three inches below her knees, very little cosmetics, and blouses that were really blousey.
Oh, yes, she had long fingernails and kept them well groomed but never used nail polish on them.
Lola Trent was a dedicated reporter on a big New York evening newspaper.
She was entering the newspaper building now.
It was night, and most of the building was in darkness. She brushed past the night watchman in the lobby that led to the elevators.
"Nobody's up there except Hiram Sullivan, Miss Trent," the watchman said.
"He's the man I've come to see," Lola returned, angling toward the elevators. She took the express elevator to the ninth floor and got off, walked down the hallway and came to a door which had a sign reading:
HIRAM SULLIVAN, CITY EDITOR
She hesitated at the door, wondering again what Old Hi wanted to see her about. Especially at night. She had received his mysterious note the middle of the afternoon and had practically memorized it:
Miss Trent: It is very important that I have a private conference with you. Please see me in my office tonight at eight o' clock. This is a very important matter.
-Hiram Sullivan
Lola shrugged her shoulders, deciding there was no use delaying things any longer. She might just as well go inside and see what Old Hi had on his mind and get it over with.
She opened the door and went into the city editor's office. Sullivan was seated behind his desk. He was about forty, wore dark-rimmed reading glasses, was tall and slender, and had dark hair. All in all, he was easy on a girl's eyes.
As. usual, Sullivan was reading his favorite newspaper, The Evening Independent. He didn't look up as Lola approached his desk.
Lola cleared her throat to attract his attention, and then Sullivan did look up.
"Good evening, Lola," Sullivan said.
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan."
"Did you close the door behind you?"
"Yes, Mr. Sullivan."
"Well, go back and lock it," he said, staring at her through the dark-rimmed glasses.
Lola was puzzled as to why he wanted the door locked, but she wasn't one to go against Sullivan's orders, so she returned to the door and snapped the night latch.
Now she was standing in front of him again.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Sullivan?"
"Yes, I do," he answered, spreading the paper open to page seven. "This story you wrote about the old woman who celebrated her one hundred fifth birthday. It's brilliant. It really sparkles. It's alive with feeling."
She breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
"How long have you been with the Independent, Lola?" Sullivan asked, sitting back in his chair now in a relaxed manner and looking directly at her.
"A year and a half."
"What's your salary?"
"Ninety dollars a week," Lola replied.
"I see." He paused a long while, his eyes roaming up and down her body. He was doing his best to appraise what was beneath Lola's skirt and blouse but was unable to draw any conclusion whatsoever. Her loosely fitting clothes did absolutely nothing to give any indication. "If you'll cooperate, I'm going to give you the biggest assignment of your newspaper career and your new salary will be a hundred and a quarter a week."
She was dumbfounded and unable to conceal her surprise. She had expected to catch hell from Sullivan and now he was offering her a juicy assignment and increasing her pay by thirty-five dollars a week.
"Of course, I'll cooperate, Mr. Sullivan. Whatever you say... and thanks for the increase in my salary. I don't know what else to say."
"I want you to take off your clothes," he said.
Lola was stunned, unable to believe she had heard him correctly.
"Come on," he prompted. "Don't stand there looking like a damn idiot! Off with the clothes!"
She regained her composure quickly. She had never undressed in front of a man before, but she didn't know why she couldn't. She knew plenty of girls who had or at least boasted they had.
"Here, Mr. Sullivan?"
"Right here! Now!" He grinned slightly. "I want to see what the merchandise looks like." She took a deep breath. "Everything?"
"Everything."
Slowly, she reached down with one hand, clung to the edge of the desk for support with the other, and removed her flats.
"Come around here by this chair so that I can see you," Sullivan said.
Rather timidly, she moved around the desk to the chair which was in full view of Sullivan and sat down in it. She rolled one stocking down her leg and removed it and then the other.
Sullivan got a good look at her knees and concluded they were very shapely knees.
Lola raised up from the chair and began to unbutton her blue cotton blouse. Slowly, she took off the blouse. Beneath it she was wearing a full slip and the straps of her bra wound over her shoulders. She hesitated.
"Go on!" he coaxed.
She removed her navy skirt, folded it neatly and draped it over the back of the chair with her blouse. Nervously, she worked her arms out of the slip which seemed about two sizes too large for her and took it off. She was standing there now clad only in bra and panties, both of white cotton. The bra was underwired with large, well-filled cups that covered her breasts completely. The panties had rather long flare legs, giving no indication at all as to what was beneath them.
Lola decided she might just as well play the scene to the hilt, remembering now that Sullivan had told her she'd get the choice assignment and salary increase if she cooperated.
Sullivan was all eyes. He liked the way her hips swept in to her small waist, the way her thighs tapered off to her legs. Her legs were slender and nicely shaped. He already had concluded that her body was deceived by the clothes she wore.
Lola smiled.
"Do you have any preference now, Mr. Sullivan, as to what comes off next?"
"Not necessarily." He laughed.
"Okay. Here goes." She felt rather guilty and a bit foolish as her hands found the snap at the back of her bra. She withdrew the bra slowly and blushed. Her relaxed breasts extended almost straight out and would have filled Sullivan's hands to capacity, the nipples etched in pale brown and standing out magnificently against the glowing whiteness of her body.
"Fabulous!" Sullivan mumbled. "I don't understand why you don't take advantage of the opportunity to exploit such beauty. Anyone would think you were as flat chested as a pancake, Lola. My God!" He felt his body suddenly stirring to life, wanting this blonde Cinderella desperately.
Lola said nothing but was very conscious of Sullivan's bright blue eyes roving over her. She was down to her panties. Again, she took a deep breath and caught hold of the elastic band of the panties. She pulled them down over her hips and buttocks and let them fall down her legs and stepped out of them. Lola Trent was nude.
Sullivan was more than stunned. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that Lola possessed such a flawless, graceful body. She had lovely contours, delicate brown eyes, unbelievable and exciting curves.
"You have an excellent figure, Lola. Very stunning, indeed."
"Thank you," she said. "Now that you've seen everything, may I put my clothes back on, Mr. Sullivan?" She was already reaching for her panties.
"Not yet, Lola! Not yet!" He got up and went to a tiny coat closet at one end of the fancy office. He withdrew a hanger of clothes and a package and returned to Lola, set the package down on the desk and handed the hanger to her. "I want you to put these clothes on."
She looked at the hanger of clothes. Two blue plastic clothespins held a black nylon half-slip. Beneath it was a sparkling black lurex sheath with tiny shoulder straps.
"The panties and shoes and nylons are in the package," Sullivan volunteered, returning to the chair behind the desk and sitting down and facing her again.
"What are you trying to do with me, Mr. Sullivan?"
"I'm trying to make a woman out of you instead of a damn pixie," he answered. "You're a helluva good reporter, but you need some class to go along with it."
She felt a little hurt, but she wasn't going to argue. She would do as he said and see what happened. She opened the package and removed the panties and looked at them. They were black lace with high cut legs, panties which would leave little to the imagination. She drew them over her legs and adjusted them around her hips.
Sullivan definitely liked the resulting effect, beginning to feel a wave of passion collecting in his groin and sprouting out in all directions.
Lola removed the half-slip from the hanger and stepped into it, molding it tightly around her hips and thighs.
"Anybody could tell with those panties that you're a natural blonde," Sullivan said.
"So I notice," Lola agreed, stirring through the package in search of the bra. "Where's the bra?"
"You just put on what you find there, baby, and stop worrying about what isn't there." Sullivan grinned.
She sat down in the chair, put on the nylons, winding them up over her legs and noting that, like the nylons she'd removed a few minutes earlier, they required no garter belt or garters to remain in place. The nylons were extremely sheer, accenting her legs marvelously.
She inserted her feet into the shoes, black, five-inch spike heels with the toes cut out and backless. She stood up and took the sheath from the. hanger. Carefully, she worked into it, pulled it down over her body. It fit her like skin, clinging tightly to her hips and buttocks, curving inward at the waist and sweeping out over her pointed breasts and exposing the deep valley between them. The upper third of her breasts was exposed above the neckline of the sheath.
The tiny shoulder straps wound over her shoulders, leaving most of her shoulders and all of her arms bare. Lola looked down. The sheath struck her almost two inches above her knees, and she knew damn well how much of her legs were going to show every time she took a step or sat down in a chair.
Sullivan opened the drawer of his desk, withdrew a tube of lipstick, mascara and a pair of long, almost shoulder-length earrings and shoved them toward Lola.
"There!" he said.
Lola removed a mirror from her purse, applied the bright, red lipstick and lined her eyes with the mascara. She fastened the earrings to her ears.
Sullivan handed her a bottle of bright, red nail lacquer that matched the lipstick.
"Sit down there and give the nails the full treatment."
She sat down in the chair and just as she had predicted in her moment of meditation, the sheath drew far above her knees and put a streak of bare thigh on breathtaking display. She made no effort to pull the sheath down. She knew it was no use.
"I hope you're having fun, Mr. Sullivan," she said, a bit annoyed by the whole thing now. She applied the brilliant lacquer to her fingernails.
Sullivan waited rather impatiently until she had finished and watched her return the cap to the polish bottle. When he realized she was through, he said: "Now get up and walk around out there. Between the desk and the door."
Lola rose and walked slowly to the door, turned around and returned to the desk and was standing in front of him again.
"Very nice," he said. "Very, very nice. Elegant, in fact."
She returned to the chair near him and sat down, aware once more that Sullivan was getting a good view of her legs and knees as well as the tight cleavage of her breasts. "Now, what, Mr. Sullivan?" He leaned back in his chair, his eyes soaking up the charms of this ravishing beauty.
"I can't believe my eyes," he said, letting them roam up and down her body. He just couldn't believe what he saw. This just couldn't be the same Lola Trent who had entered his office some forty-five minutes earlier. "Lola, are you a virgin?" he asked bluntly.
For the first time, she became angry. She had gone along with Sullivan's silly ideas up to now, but now he was prying into her personal life, something she regarded as nobody's business except her own. Fresh anger blazed through her eyes.
"I don't think that's any of your goddamn business, Mr. Sullivan, but if you must know, the answer is yes."
"Thanks." He laughed, pulling a package of cigarettes from his pocket.
"What's all this got to do with this big assignment you've been talking about?" she snapped.
"You'll find out," he replied, thrusting the cigarettes in her direction. " Have a cigarette, and we'll talk about it."
"I don't smoke, Mr. Sullivan."
Determination cut through his eyes. "You can learn to smoke. Right now." She took one of the cigarettes and waited while he held a lighter for her. She took a hard puff and coughed lightly. For the first time, she wondered if he was going to try to make her, cast the idea aside with the thought that he was going to have a helluva time if he had such intentions. He lit a cigarette for himself.
"Now about this assignment. I'm giving you this salary raise so that you can outfit yourself in fine clothes like the ones you're wearing. I want you to get a character story to fill an entire page in the Sunday magazine section on young Stuart Bryant."
"Stuart Bryant?" she gasped. "But Bryant doesn't like publicity. He's... "
"You're right, Lola," Sullivan interrupted. "It won't be easy. But I want a story. I want you to include intimate facts about Bryant's life-what he eats; what he does with his hours after he leaves his stock brokerage; how he dresses; how he reacts to girls. The works. Everything."
"I wouldn't recognize Bryant if I saw him," Lola explained.
"But you'll go after him, won't you, Lola?"
Sullivan asked.
She had never refused an assignment yet, and she wasn't going to refuse this one even though she knew it was going to be pure hell.
"Of course. I'll go after it."
"You won't have another assignment until this one is completed," Sullivan said. "Your hours will be your own, and there's no deadline. You'll undoubtedly have to work your way into some ritzy places. Now you understand why you couldn't handle this assignment as the old Lola Trent."
She took a drag on her cigarette, and for the first time a cigarette tasted good to her.
"Yes, I do understand. I'll go to work on Bryant tomorrow."
"Good." He opened the door on the little wooden cabinet beside his desk and took out two martini glasses and a bottle of dry martinis, poured two drinks, and offered one to her.
She shook her head.
"I've never done any drinking, Mr. Sullivan."
"This is a good time for you to start," he countered. "You undoubtedly will have to drink with Bryant if you expect to get next to him."
She assumed Sullivan was right. She tilted the glass to her rich red lips, swallowed hard and felt the liquor sting her throat. She gagged slightly.
Two more martinis and a couple of cigarettes later, Lola was feeling good. Very good. She had moved to the desk and was sitting on it, her legs crossed and her sheath pulled high over her knees until Sullivan could see her bare thighs.
Suddenly, he got up, lifted her from the desk and took her into his arms. His lips were very close to hers.
"You're a real sexpot when you're dressed like this, Lola. It will take a lot of sex to land Bryant. I happen to know he's a sucker for a pretty girl, a real leg and bosom man. You might get into a very compromising situation with him."
"You think so?"
"Yes." Sullivan pressed her body into his and kissed her. Hard. She did not resist him, feeling now the effects of the martinis. She felt her knees buckle beneath her with the impact of his kiss, and almost automatically her arms went around him and held him tightly. For the first time in her life, she felt a sharp ache shooting through her thighs.
When he released her, she said: "If that's all, Mr. Sullivan, I'd better go now."
He grinned.
"That's not all," he said, wanting her the worst way now. "There's something else I want to show you. Something that will become apart of your life forever."
He turned loose of her.
Momentarily.
CHAPTER TWO
Sullivan stood there looking at Lola. She didn't seem concerned in the least that he had just insinuated that he planned to seduce her. Surely, she understood what he meant. He decided the best approach would be to get a couple of more martinis inside of her. Even for a girl who didn't drink, she was handling them very well. He concluded that after two more, she wouldn't give a damn about anything.
"Would you care for another drink?"
"I really shouldn't, Hiram, but I'm going to have just one more," she answered, filling her glass again and then turning the bottle into his glass. "These things really slip up on you. For a little while, I didn't feel a thing and then all of a sudden... boom!"
"That's the way with martinis all right," he said, watching her begin to sip her drink and light another cigarette.
She slipped onto the edge of the desk again, and crossed her legs. Her sheath climbed well above her knees once more, and she noted the perspiration glazing Sullivan's face as his eyes studied her legs, a mere arm's length from him. "How old are you, Lola?" he asked. "Twenty-two," she returned. He pulled his chair closer to her, set his glass down, and extended his hands beneath the hemline of her sheath.
"Well, you're old enough."
"Old enough for what?" In his mind, he was thinking that she was old enough to get laid, but he said: "To give Bryant a helluva time."
"I'm old enough to do anything," she purred, refilling her glass. "Anything I want to do. You know something, Hi... I'm getting drunk. I've never been drunk before. God, I haven't even taken a drink before, but I know I'm getting drunk." She laughed aloud. "Don't you think I'm getting drunk, Hiram, old boy?"
"There's a first time for everything." He laughed and worked his hands higher. Much higher.
Until he could feel the edge of her panties.
Then he touched her and felt her body quiver.
"Oooo... h!" she cooed, her body aflame.
Sullivan knew he was in business now. He had touched her, and she made no move to direct his attention elsewhere. Her legs had remained relaxed. He jumped up and lifted her from the desk.
Their lips came together, and he put his arms around her and drove her body into his. Her arms tightened around him, and her fingers dug deeply into his back. Her tongue raced into his mouth, and he heard her throaty sounds.
Lola Trent was red hot. She was ready, and Sullivan knew it. He broke away from her even though she clung tightly to him.
"You may not know it, Lola, but this is a very modern and up-to-date newspaper plant." With that, he opened his desk drawer, pressed a button.
At the end of the office, a small bed emerged from the wall, folding out onto the floor.
If this latest development bothered her, Lola did not show it.
"I'll say it's modern!" she said through slitted eyes. "I want another drink! God, am I ever having fun!"
He pushed the bottle toward her.
"Be my guest."
She picked up the bottle, not bothering to pour the liquor into her glass this time, and sucked hard on it.
"Whee! I'm drunk!"
Sullivan knew how very right she was. Suddenly, he swept her into his arms, her legs dangling in the air, and carried her in the direction of the bed where the lighting was much more subdued. He returned her feet to the floor, feeling the strong pangs of desire knifing through him.
"Undress!" he said.
Lola put her hands on her hips and looked at him.
"Like hell I'll undress!" She smiled. "If you want me undressed, then you're going to undress me!"
Sullivan didn't need a second invitation. He caught hold of her, his hands flashing to the zipper of the sheath and pulling it down. He worked the sheath off of her, and her large, proud breasts sprung into view. The nipples jutted upward now, and appeared taut and hard.
Sullivan knelt down and removed her spike heels, then rolled the sheer nylons down her legs, his body responding rapidly as he did so.
"I suppose I'm being a very naughty little girl," Lola said, not only resigning herself to what was ahead but resolving that she was going to enjoy it. "If anybody had told me two hours ago that Lola Trent was going to smoke and drink and let a man undress her, I'd have said he was nuts!"
Sullivan let out a little chuckle, raising up in front of her and releasing her half-slip and waiting while she stepped out of it.
"You are getting very, very naked." He grinned, his hands reaching for her panties.
She drew back away from him.
"Look, if I'm going to have all my clothes removed, then I'm going to take your clothes off, too."
He laughed, having wondered for a brief moment whether she was going to balk when he moved to take off her panties.
"I'm sure as hell willing."
The ache within her had grown all out of proportions now. She didn't know what it was like to go to bed with a man, but she was going to find out.
Fast.
She removed his coat, tie, and shirt, and tossed them across a chair.
"Take off your shoes and socks," she urged, her voice almost commanding.
He dropped to a squatting position, had his shoes and socks off within seconds.
His voice told her that he was waiting for her to decide on the next move. She released his belt and let his trousers slide down his legs and watched him step out of them.
Sullivan could wait no longer to feel her body against his even though she still was wearing her panties and he his briefs and undershirt. Quickly, he raised the undershirt over his head and flicked it off, took her into his arms and kissed her. It was a long, tender kiss, and he could feel the sharp, hard points of her breasts digging into his bare chest.
He felt her hands relax from his back and move to the snaps of his briefs. He heard the snaps give and felt the briefs tumble down his legs. He pulled away from her, reached for her panties and took them off.
She was staring at him, her eyes focused only to one place, and he saw the surprise in them. Gently, he worked the curves of his body into hers and ran his face over her breasts.
"Be gentle, Hiram," she said, "but do it now! Remember, this is the first time. Hurry!"
He wasn't convinced that this was the first time. She had displayed a tremendous amount of finesse in undressing him. If this was the first time, Lola Trent had reacted like a newborn duck taking to water.
He wasn't going to waste any more time. He wanted to take her while the martinis were still reacting upon her, before she changed her mind. He was never more ready for a woman in his life, and Lola was a lot of woman now. He went crashing onto the bed with her. "Gentle does it!" she gasped. Sullivan intended to be gentle. He knew that whether a girl liked it or feared it usually depended on the first impression, the first contact, the first burst of fulfillment. He concluded she wasn't quite ready yet.
His lips merged into hers, and his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed, and he felt the quiver in her body. His hands moved down. Far down. To her thighs, awakening her.
Lola felt a hot current blazing through her, and her passion was mushrooming all out of control. She reached down and touched him for the first time, and her hips heaved forward. "Please!" she moaned, searching for breath. Sullivan sensed that she was ready now. He rolled over and eased her beneath him, felt her legs give way to him, her arms tighten around him, her fingernails cut into his back as if she was girding herself. Then he touched her. Gently but firmly. Deeper.
Pain rolled through her, and she dug her teeth into her lips. She wanted to scream but couldn't. The pain diminished and then erupted again as he moved deeper. All the way. She did scream lightly and then the pain vanished entirely.
Suddenly, she was aware that she was over the crisis, and her legs circled him and her hips began to gyrate violently. She was experiencing something new, and she liked it. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced previously.
Almost without warning, they were there.
Together.
The inevitable end came like a volcano blasting upward, outward, in all directions. "God!" she screamed loudly. It was over.
There was a long period of intense silence, only their breathing penetrating the stillness.
Finally, he rolled away from her and they relaxed on their backs and stared up at the ceiling.
"How do you feel?" Sullivan asked.
"Wonderful," she returned. "Like I think a woman should feel."
"Did it hurt very much?"
It was a question she didn't know how to answer.
"Sorta. Not too much. There was a lot of pain. For a minute."
"Well, you were little short of magnificent," Sullivan told her. "Really?"
"Absolutely," he said.
"I suppose it wasn't too terrific for you." She turned on her side to watch his reaction.
"Oh, you're wrong," he insisted. "I've had some experience, and right now, I'd have to say you rank with the best I've encountered."
"I'm glad."
"Do you have any regrets, Lola?"
"No. Am I supposed to have?"
"I can't answer that." He laughed. "I imagine some girls do regret parting with their virginity. After it's done."
"No, I don't feel that way at all." She reached over and touched him, like a child making over a new toy. "It was a little sneaky of you to order me up here tonight and overwhelm me with a nice raise, a choice assignment, and a lot of booze. You went to a helluva lot of trouble to prime me for the Bryant assignment."
"Well, you're going to need to use everything to get to Bryant," Sullivan explained. "If he doesn't get you into bed with him, he'll sure try like hell. After seeing you in those new clothes tonight, I knew the only thing you'd have to do to get the big story is to meet him. Once that's accomplished, he'll take it from there."
Lola was flattered by his remarks. Sullivan's transformation of the old Lola Trent into the new must have produced astounding effects. She could hardly wait to get back into those clothes and view herself in a full-length mirror.
"Why do you want this story about Bryant so badly?"
"Hell, Bryant's the number one man in this town!" Sullivan replied. "As a business man and socially. He's the number one eligible bachelor. He's hot copy-when you can get it, and that's been rare. The only thing we've ever been able to print about Bryant has been his election as president of this board and that board. We want to print what makes Bryant tick. Everything about him."
"I'll get it," Lola said with determination. "I don't know how, and I don't know when, but I'll get it."
"I'm counting on you," Sullivan said. "The sky's the limit. If you run into any expense, get the money from the treasurer's office." He was convinced she was impressed with the importance of the assignment now and was through discussing it. He ran his hand over her breasts and felt the reaction in his body.
And hers.
"So you think I was pretty sneaky, do you?"
"Yes, I do," she answered.
"Well, I must confess I didn't plan it all this way," he confided. "When I asked you to come up here, I planned only to try to coax you into putting on those clothes. I wanted to see if my suspicions were correct that you had all of the equipment to be a very sexy woman. I found out. God, how I found out."
"You mean, you didn't really plan the bedroom scene?"
"That's right," he confessed. "After you put on those clothes, one thing just seemed to lead to another. If you take my advice, you'll really go in for short skirts, tight skirts, tight blouses, high heels, clinging dresses, all of it. You've certainly got the body... " All of the time he was talking, Lola was letting her eyes wander over his body. Sullivan was the first man she had ever seen nude. In the flesh. At times, she had tried to vision what a man would look like when he was naked, but she had never been able to form a real mental picture.
Until she had undressed Sullivan.
His hands began to caress her breasts again, and she was experiencing fresh, passionate sensations all over again.
"Ooooh, la-la," she purred.
"You like that, don't you, Lola?" Sullivan said, more in the form of a statement than a question.
"Yes, I do. Oh... " He started to draw his hands away.
She caught his arm and jerked his hand back to her breasts.
"Don't stop!" she pleaded.
He had no intention of stopping. He was merely in the process of drawing closer to her. He rolled up against her until their bodies touched each other the full length of the bed, and his left arm wound around her neck. His right hand swept over her breasts, his fingers massaging the nipples briskly, and his lips meshing into hers.
It was a long, fiery kiss, their tongues clashing violently in this fresh and spontaneous burst of ecstasy.
Suddenly, she raised up and drove him over on his back and rolled on top of him. There was no premeditation to her action. It just seemed like a natural thing to do. Desire had surged through her like steam. She wanted him, and she was searching desperately for him.
"Help me, dammit!" she begged.
Sullivan helped her. Quickly, he was with her, and he heard her gasp and felt her hard breasts penetrate his chest as she drove her lips into his and swept her hips into relentless and grinding motion.
Within a matter of seconds, they were there again.
Simultaneously.
At the last instant, she had tried desperately to prolong the finish, but it was no use. He had possessed and devoured her completely. She was lost in an unending sea of pleasure, and moments later collapsed against him, her strength entirely drained.
Lola Trent was exhausted, the most relaxing kind of exhaustion she had ever known. She had delved into a new world, a new experience, the world of sexual intimacy.
Fate, or whatever it was, had chosen this night and this man to make her into a woman. And she liked it. Without reservation.
CHAPTER THREE
It was late afternoon the following day. The late autumn sun was sinking into the horizon.
Lola Trent made her way along Fifth Avenue, weaving in and out of the mass of people hurrying along the sidewalks in all directions.
This was the new Lola Trent. She had spent all of the morning and part of the afternoon buying some new clothes, and she was wearing some of her new selections now. An outfit that could be worn for street dress or for evening wear.
She wore a three-piece black suit that clung to her body like skin. The skirt's hemline barely cleared her knees, leaving them moderately exposed, and curved in over her buttocks tightly. Her crepe blouse fit her snugly, curving out over her breasts and then dipped sharply into her narrow waist. The jacket matched the skirt, the fancy white blouse accenting the coal black.
She wore large pearl earrings, bright red lipstick, nylons, and the black spike heels Sullivan had given her. Her freshly-lacquered red toenails sparkled through the open toes of the high heels and matched her fingernails.
If the occasion presented itself, she could remove the jacket to the suit, leaving her arms bare, and she could adjust the neckline of the blouse to bring the cleavage of her breasts into view. She also had brought along the shoulder-length earrings Sullivan had given her just in case she needed to doll up for the night.
Lola turned into a swank building and took the elevator to the seventeenth floor, the one occupied entirely by the offices of young Stuart Bryant. She entered Bryant's reception room, approaching a young, big-breasted brunette receptionist, who was seated behind a small desk. Beneath her, she felt her heels penetrating the thick, Oriental carpeting.
Before the brunette turned to her, Lola gazed at the "Private" sign on Bryant's inner office door. Beneath it was a second sign... "Stuart Bryant."
"Yes," the brunette said. "I'd like to see Mr. Stuart Bryant," Lola told her.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm sorry, I don't," Lola replied. "But it's very important that I see him." She had concluded during the day to try this first approach before turning to other alternatives in her effort to make the initial contact with Bryant. "About what?" the brunette asked. Lola hesitated. She had believed seeing him would be easier. Finally, she said: "I'm a... a newspaper reporter from the Independent."
The brunette was lighting a cigarette and taking inventory of Lola.
"Mr. Bryant never sees reporters. Never, he doesn't like newspapers. There isn't a chance that he'd see you." Disappointment creased Lola's face. "Couldn't you... " She turned away, knowing her first effort had failed. "Thank you."
She walked slowly through the door, returned to the elevator and started down. She was more determined now than ever together story about Bryant. She was drawing all kinds of pictures of Bryant in her mind now, and each one was a picture of self-centered conceit. She was certain she was going to dislike him as much as he loathed publicity and newspapers.
She stepped outside onto Fifth Avenue, wandered down the street and turned left on Fifty-Third Street. Her mind was amass of confusion. She didn't know which way to turn next. Stuart Bryant... damn him! She drifted into a bar, not knowing why. She sat down at the bar which was virtually deserted. She bought a package of cigarettes and ordered a drink-a martini. It was the first time she had ever bought a drink and cigarettes.
As she sat there, she removed her compact from her purse and combed her blonde hair in the mirror. She applied fresh lipstick and looked into the long, huge mirror behind the bar. She liked what she saw, the new Lola Trent.
The bartender angled toward her slowly. He was Italian, tall, and not too well groomed. He paused in front of her, pretending to be straightening up the bar, but his eyes were on Lola.
She couldn't get Bryant out of her thoughts, not that she was trying to forget him. She had an assignment, and she wasn't going to give up without giving it a helluva try. Sullivan had given her all of the time she needed or wanted.
"Sir... " The bartender came close. "Yes."
"Do you know Stuart Bryant, the stockbroker?"
The bartender grinned.
"Know Stu? Eats here Monday through Friday when he's in town. Usually comes in about eleven-fifteen. Stu gets up early in the morning so he eats early at lunch. He's been eating here for three or four years."
"What kind of a guy is this... this Stu?" Lola wanted to know.
"Oh, the best," the bartender returned. "Nice guy. Handsome and a swell tipper and dresser, if that's what you want to know."
"That's partly what I want to know," Lola said. She sat there in silence for several moments, sipping her drink and taking a drag on her cigarette. What to do? She didn't know. She motioned for the bartender. "Another martini."
The bartender returned with the fresh drink.
"Do you think Mr. Bryant will eat here tomorrow?" Lola asked.
The bartender shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't see why not. He was here today so he's in town. Tomorrow's Friday."
"Yeah." She wasn't used to her skirt riding up over her knees and unconsciously tried to pull it down while the bartender watched. An idea struck her suddenly. "You couldn't use a waitress for a little while tomorrow during the noon rush, could you? Say, about eleven?"
"You mean while Bryant's eating?"
She nodded affirmatively.
"I couldn't do that, Miss," the bartender said rather apologetically. "You see the same girl waits on Stu every day, and he expects Lois to wait on him. He usually has a drink or two and his meal, and he gives Lois a five spot and she gets to keep whatever's left."
Damn! Damn, Stuart Bryant! she thought silently.
"Well, thanks, anyway." She emptied her glass, crushed out her cigarette and started to climb down from the bar.
"Oh, Miss," the bartender said.
Lola spun around toward him, hoping perhaps he had changed his mind.
"If you'll come in sharp at eleven-forty-five, I just might be able to see if Stu will let you sit in his booth," the bartender continued. "That is, if he doesn't bring anybody to lunch with him. We're usually crowded about that time, and you just might wind up in Stu's booth."
Her eyes brightened.
"I'll be here. Don't forget me now." She took two dollars from her purse and handed them to the bartender. "I'll sure be here!"
"I'll be watching for you," the bartender grinned.
Lola left the bar, going out onto the street. It was starting to get dark outside. Lola felt lonely. She had done all she could do on the Bryant assignment that day, and she didn't want to go home to her apartment. She hesitated in front of a store window and looked in at the assortment of jewelry. The martinis had warmed her, and she found a yearning sifting into her body like that she experienced the previous night in Hiram Sullivan's office.
She moved on down the street, going nowhere in particular. She walked slowly, crossing Madison Avenue and a few minutes later, Park Avenue. She walked down to Lexington, turned left along Lexington for no reason at all. The bright lights flickered in her face.
Lola knew what she wanted.
She wanted a man.
She found something she liked, and she wanted more.
She passed a high-class bar and paused. The pangs of hunger were stabbing at her stomach. She decided that if Stuart Bryant could and did eat in a bar, she could eat in a bar. And would.
She went inside the bar. Several men and one woman lined the bar and were drinking. Lola found a booth, sat down in it, and removed the jacket to her suit. She lit a cigarette and crossed her legs, the hem of the skirt riding over her shapely knees.
A male waiter drew up beside her and eyed her closely.
"What will it be, Miss?" He opened a menu in front of her.
She studied the menu for a few seconds.
"I'll have the steak dinner special. Well done."
"Would you care for a cocktail?"
Twenty-four hours earlier, Lola would have said no. In fact, she wouldn't even have been in a bar. Now she looked up at him and smiled and said: "Yes. A martini." In the short span of twenty-four hours, she had taken to liking martinis.
While the waiter was gone, she became aware that the roving eyes of three or four of the men at the bar were concentrating on her. Never before had she drawn such attention.
The waiter returned with her martini, and she picked it up and began to sip it. Casually, she looked around. A rather handsome man had gone so far as to turn around sideways on his stool until he was almost facing her directly. She felt a sharp sensation gnawing at her thighs.
The man picked up his drink, slid from the stool and started toward her. She sipped her drink, her eyes peering over the rim of the glass. She saw the man hesitate beside her.
"Hello," he said politely.
Her immediate inward reaction was to tell him to mind his own damn business, but her lips betrayed her inward reaction and she said: "Hello."
"Do you mind if I sit down with you?" .
Again, her first inward reaction was to tell him to mind his own damn business. And once more, she ignored that reaction and said: "If you want to."
He slipped into the booth, sitting across from her.
The waiter returned with her dinner and set it down in front of her and disappeared.
She was almost afraid to look up at the man who was seated across from her. She sensed that he was staring at the high rise of her breasts, and she felt his knee touch hers and then move away.
"You seem very lonely tonight," the man with wavy, black hair said. "I'm Gordon Earn-hart. I'm from Chicago."
She looked up and came face to face with him. She was impressed with his politeness.
"My name's Lola Trent. Hive in Manhattan." She figured he was about twenty-six or twenty-seven and took note of the fact he was dressed very well.
"Are you doing anything tonight-that is, after you finish your dinner," Earnhart asked. "If not, perhaps we could find something to do together."
Lola weighed his proposal in silence. Undoubtedly, Gordon Earnhart was staying in a hotel and the most that could happen to her would be that she'd wind up in his hotel room getting laid. She had been eating slowly and finally looked up at him again.
"What did you have in mind?"
"I hadn't given it any thought," he lied, his eyes set squarely on the generous bulges formed by her breasts in her blouse. Suddenly, he decided to be frank with her at the risk of having her tell him to go to hell and ruining any chance he might have of getting a date with her. "I've got a room in a hotel a couple of blocks down the street. Are you in the mood for a little party tonight?"
She was impressed with his honesty. Raw passion swelled in her body, coaxing her to say yes to his question when she knew she should say no.
"Yes, I'm in the mood. Very much in the mood."
He reached across the table and took her hand in his.
"We'll have a lot of fun," he promised, passion rising through him. "You are a very lovely girl, Lola."
"Thank you."
"What do you like to drink?" Gordon wanted to know.
"Oh, I'm not fussy," she answered as if she had been drinking all of her life. "Scotch, bourbon, martinis. Anything." She had finished eating.
"Are you ready?" Gordon asked.
"Yes, I'm ready." She opened her purse and withdrew a five-dollar bill, but Gordon's hand caught hers.
"I'm paying," he insisted.
"I had to eat anyway." She laughed.
"I'm paying," he said again, even more determined this time.
"All right, if you insist," Lola said. She reached for her jacket, slid out of the booth and started walking toward the door.
Gordon Earnhart was right behind her, his eyes picking up the hemline of her skirt as she moved. Lola Trent had something he wanted, and she had all but agreed to give it to him.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was Friday. Eleven-forty-five on the dot. Lola turned into the small bar not far from Stuart Bryant's plush offices, her fingers crossed that Bryant had arrived for lunch. She was wearing exactly the same suit she had worn the previous day except that this time she had adjusted the neckline of the blouse to afford a better view of her breasts.
Lola caught the bartender's eye immediately. Quickly she looked around. Just as the bartender had predicted, the bar was filled with people who were eating early to avoid the bedlam that always broke loose in Manhattan seconds after twelve o'clock.
The bartender joined Lola, taking her by the arm and escorting her to a booth toward the rear of the bar. The booth was occupied by a man who appeared to be about thirty with curly black hair. He had a pleasant face and warm blue eyes.
"Stu," the bartender said, "we're running low on space, and I have a very nice young lady here who'd like to eat lunch. I'm wondering if she could share your booth?" Bryant looked up at Lola and smiled. "Sure, Tony. I'd be delighted." The bartender motioned for Lola to sit down. "Thanks, Stu."
Lola sat down across from Bryant. A menu was open in front of her. She raised the menu but wasn't looking at it. Instead, she was glancing over the top of it. Bryant was sipping a drink, and she concluded he hadn't eaten yet and breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that he hadn't had lunch yet would give her much more time with him.
Bryant was studying her closely. His eyes soaked up the contours of her well-shaped breasts and the heavy crease between them.
"It's a nice fall day outside, isn't it, Miss?"
"Yes. A lovely day."
A bleached blonde waitress appeared at the booth.
"Are you ready to order now, Mr. Bryant?"
"Yes," he returned, eyeing the menu. "Perhaps Miss... Miss... "
"Lola Trent," Lola said.
"Perhaps Miss Trent would like to order first," Bryant said.
Lola couldn't make up her mind. In fact, she wasn't even thinking about food. She was thinking about the very handsome man seated across from her. She looked directly at Bryant.
"What are you going to have?"
Bryant grinned.
"I think I'll have the chicken pie."
"Do you like chicken pie?" Lola asked.
"Well, if I didn't," Bryant returned, "I suppose I wouldn't be ordering it. Chicken pie's one of my favorite dishes." Lola laughed although she was slightly embarrassed.
"Of course, how stupid of me." She looked at the waitress. "I'll have the chicken pie also."
"All on one check, Mr. Bryant?" the waitress asked.
"No," Lola replied quickly. Bryant looked up at the waitress and nodded. "All on my check, Blondie." The waitress disappeared. "Look, you didn't have to do that, Mr. Bryant," Lola said. He smiled.
"No, I didn't have to do that, but I did. I don't have the pleasure of eating lunch with a pretty girl every day."
"You're flattering me, Mr. Bryant."
"No one needs to flatter you, Miss Trent," Bryant observed, impressed that she had picked up his name from the waitress. "I think you're a very lovely girl. Very beautiful."
"Well, thank you. I might add that it isn't every day that I have lunch with a very nice man."
"Thank you."
Lola realized that her time with him was very limited and that she couldn't waste it talking about the weather and chicken pie and how lucky she was to be having lunch with him. She needed to come up with some way of seeing him again. She knew she couldn't confess that she was a reporter, that their meeting had been planned and that she wanted a story. He probably would get up and run out of the place.
She was becoming desperate, was unaware that the waitress had returned and set the chicken pies down in front of them. She got up, removed her jacket and hung it on the rack on Bryant's side of the booth. She saw Bryant's coat, and the idea hit her.
Bryant twisted his head around, getting a good look at Lola's legs. He reasoned they were very nice legs. Shapely and sexy, and he liked legs that way, shapely and sexy.
Lola pretended to be searching through the pocket on her jacket, but actually, she was ripping a button from Bryant's coat. She had the button now and carefully secluded it in the pocket of her jacket and returned to her seat in the booth.
Bryant was waiting for her.
"Shall we eat now, Miss Trent?"
"Yes. I'm starved." She looked up at him. "You know, I eat very early breakfast and by noon, I'm bushed and hungry."
"We have something in common, Miss Trent," Bryant said. "I also eat breakfast very early and get. very hungry before noon." He took a healthy bite of the chicken pie. "What do you do, Miss Trent?"
The question startled her, not that it wasn't a good, expectable question, but she couldn't tell him the truth.
"I... I'm a secretary."
"Are you a good secretary?"
"I haven't had any complaints," Lola shot back.
"Do you like the place where you work?" Bryant wanted to know.
"It's all right," Lola replied.
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," Bryant retorted. "Maybe you'd like to come to work in my office. We can always use a good secretary. We employ about forty secretaries, and some of them are good ones and some pretty poor."
Lola knew she couldn't accept his offer. The second that brunette in Bryant's reception room spotted her she'd be a goner.
"I'll think about it, Mr. Bryant. You're a very kind man."
They had finished eating now, and Bryant motioned for the blonde waitress. He glanced over at Lola.
"Miss Trent, do you like blueberry cobbler?"
"I love it," Lola returned.
He turned to the waitress.
"Two slices of the blueberry cobbler."
Lola knew her time with Bryant was running short now. In a few minutes, he would be gone. She felt good, though, because she had the button from Bryant's coat, and she was already making her plans as to how she was going to use it.
When they had eaten the blueberry cobbler, Bryant suddenly appeared to be in a hurry. He removed his wallet, took out a ten-dollar bill and a card. He handed the card to Lola.
"Here's my card just in case you decide you'd like to pursue a new job," he said. "I have a one o'clock appointment so I have to be leaving you." He put the ten-dollar bill down beneath a salt shaker and rose.
"Thank you very much for the lunch, Mr. Bryant." Lola smiled. "I enjoyed it immensely."
"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Trent." He reached for his coat, put it on and started to button it. He looked over at Lola. "Looks as if I've lost a button. A brand new coat, too." He was fumbling with the remaining buttons.
"That's too bad," Lola said, feeling very guilty and wondering whether her face was showing her guilt.
"These are sort of odd buttons," Bryant said. "Probably have a hard time matching them." He turned and walked away.
Lola watched him until he had left the bar. So that was Stuart Bryant, she thought. Well, he doesn't know it, but he hasn't seen the last of me yet, and when I see him again, it won't be for a job.
She settled back in the booth, feeling much too lazy and exhausted to leave. She did feel exhausted, and she still had traces of the hangover she got from her night of partying with Gordon Earnhart.
Gordon Earnhart... he was a very nice guy. She lit a cigarette and began to think about the preceding night. Earnhart had purchased a bottle of Scotch in a liquor store on the way to the hotel and they were sitting in chairs engaging in general conversation and smoking and drinking.
Some fifteen or twenty minutes passed before Earnhart made any kind of a pass at Lola. He set his glass down and went to her, sitting down on the spacious arm of her big upholstered chair. He put his arm around her and began to toy with the fringe of her blouse.
"I guess this was my lucky night," Earnhart said, his hand disappearing beneath her blouse and cupping her breast through her bra.
"You think so?" Lola said, lust sweeping through her body as he continued to knead the hardness of her bosom. "I know so."
She squirmed around and looked up at him.
"You know, you could do a lot better with that if you took off my blouse and bra."
"I had that in mind," Earnhart admitted.
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?" she said, a tone of urgency in her voice.
He removed her blouse while she cooperated by bending forward. He worked her arms out of her slip and let it slide down her body.
She took a long swallow of Scotch and felt the whiskey burn her throat and blaze into her stomach. She was thinking that here she was letting him undress her and he hadn't even kissed her yet.
He started searching for the snap on the bra, fumbling around in back with his hands while his eyes lapped up the high mounds of flesh that oozed over the top of the bra.
"If you don't find the hook in back, it's more than likely in front," she teased, slightly disturbed because he was so damn slow.
He grinned sheepishly, his hands flashing to the front of her bra, unhooking it and letting it fall away from her body. The bare, hard tips of her full, firm breasts swelled with excitement and were immediately consumed by his eager hands.
A ripple of desire streaked through her.
As he massaged her breasts, he leaned down and ground his lips into hers. She curled around and circled his neck with her arms, her skirt drawing up over her thighs. She felt his tongue enter her mouth and make contact with her tongue. She let out a groan and pulled away from him.
"Undress me! All the way!" she ordered. He slid off the arm of the chair and helped her to her feet. While he was removing her skirt and slip, she was taking off his coat, tie, shirt, and undershirt.
"Hurry up!" she said, feeling quite drunk now.
Earnhart stooped down, rolled her nylons down her legs, removed her spike heels and the nylons.
She was nude now except for her panties, and they were flimsy black lace and didn't cover much.
He had taken off his own shoes and socks and was reaching for her panties.
"No!" she said, drawing back away from him. "I'm going to take off your pants first, Gordy, old boy."
She laughed drunkenly, loosening his belt and letting his trousers slide down his legs.
He was nude now except for his briefs. He thought she was the shapeliest girl he had ever known. His arms swept around her, and he pulled her to him and kissed her, his body trembling under the penetration of her breasts against his bare chest.
When he released her, she unsnapped his briefs with one flick of her hand and lowered them down his legs. She smiled. He was so different from Hiram Sullivan. Earnhart was big-muscled and brawny. His appearance in his clothes was quite deceiving.
Earnhart removed Lola's panties, and they were both as naked as jaybirds.
Quickly, he drew her to him, pulling her body against him and working her legs between his. He started to kiss her again.
"That's enough of that for now!" Lola said. "Carry me to the bed!" He felt her collapse in his arms, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed and collapsed beside her.
"Now, get busy!" she demanded, unable to postpone things any longer.
Earnhart got busy.
Lola put out her cigarette and got up from the booth. Gordon Earnhart was a lot of man, but he was gone and she had to forget him.
She had other fish to fry now.
A rich fish named Stuart Bryant.
Lola got her jacket, put it on, removed the button from her pocket and gripped it in her fist as she left the bar.
CHAPTER FIVE
Darkness was settling over Manhattan as Lola thumbed through the pages of the telephone directory. Suddenly, she realized that she had no idea where Stuart Bryant lived. He could live a hundred places, and trying to locate a person in a city like New York was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack.
She phoned Hiram Sullivan.
"He lives in Westchester," Sullivan told her. "All of the bluebloods live in Westchester or over in Connecticut. If you'll hold on a minute, Lola, I'll try to get his number."
Lola held on anxiously. Presently, she heard Sullivan's voice again. He gave her the number, and she wrote it down.
"How are you coming with Bryant?" Sullivan asked.
"It's going to be a slow, drawn-out procedure, I'm afraid," Lola answered. "That bastard detests newspapers."
"I know that," Sullivan agreed. "Well, keep me posted, Lola."
"That I will do, Hi." She said goodbye and hung up the receiver, waited a few seconds, picked up the receiver and dialed the Westchester County number.
She waited.
The number rang and rang.
Finally, a woman's voice answered.
"Mr. Stuart Bryant, please," Lola said. There was a lengthy silence, and then she recognized Bryant's voice.
"Mr. Bryant, this is Lola Trent, the girl who had lunch with you today. Remember?"
"Oh, yes," Bryant returned. "Of course, I remember. You want that job?"
"No, I wasn't calling about that. I found the button to your coat after you left the bar. It was on the floor by the booth where we were sitting," she lied.
"You did find it? Gosh, it's nice of you to telephone me. I could drop by your home on my way to the city tonight and pick it up if you'll be at home. Okay?"
"All right," Lola agreed, smiling triumphantly. "I'll be at home. I live at 2801 East Locust Street, Apartment 2."
"Let me jot that down," Bryant said slowly. "2-8-0-1 East Locust Street, Apartment 2. All right, Miss Trent, I'll be along in about an hour or thereabouts, and thank you very much. Goodbye now, Miss Trent."
"Goodbye, Mr. Bryant." She put down the receiver and relaxed.
"Goodbye now, Miss Trent... " she repeated his final words slowly.
Excitement stirred through her. So far, things were working out like a million dollars. She had known she had to work fast before Bryant had replaced that missing button. She realized that this would be her big opportunity, and she was determined to take full advantage of it.
She went into her bedroom, removed her blouse, skirt, and slip, and looked into the mirror. She was standing there clad only in her bra, panties, nylons, and spike heels. She remembered what Hiram Sullivan had told her... that Bryant was a leg and bosom man.
She knew that she couldn't make her intentions too obvious, but Bryant was damn sure going to get a pretty good view of her legs and was going to know she didn't wear falsies.
Lola had put a lot of thought into calling Bryant at his home. She had purchased a fifth of Scotch on the way home just in case she was successful in luring Bryant to her apartment, and she was going to go all out to keep him there if she managed to get him inside.
She removed her bra, panties, and kicked off her shoes, sat down on the edge of the bed and took off her nylons.
The new Lola Trent was nude.
And she didn't plan to be too much different when Stuart Bryant arrived.
She was going to wear just enough clothes to let his imagination run wild.
She pulled a pair of French cut bikini panties up over her legs and buttock. It hid nothing except the one thing she wanted to hide. She wrapped a matching French bra around her breasts. It was little more than a strip of black cloth which covered her nipples.
She drew on a skin-tight stretch lounger, made of pure black lace that hid absolutely nothing. She stepped into a pair of black spike heels.
Except for a pair of large hoop earrings, that was it.
She put on the earrings, an abundance of lipstick and mascara.
Lola Trent was ready for Mr. Stuart Bryant. He might never enter her apartment, but when she handed him the button, he was sure as hell going to get an eyeful.
Quite an eyeful.
Lola was going to find out just how much of a leg and bosom man he really was.
She knew she was gambling everything on her well-established plans. If he merely took the button and thanked her and left, the odds of her ever getting a story from him would be practically zero.
She went into the living room, turned on a small table lamp, and turned out the ceiling light.
The stage was set.
Lola went to the divan, sat down and lit a cigarette. For the next few minutes, she looked back over the last forty-eight hours. She had become an entirely different woman, looked it, and felt like it. She had learned to do everything most of the other girls she knew did. Actually, she liked her new way of life.
Suddenly, the buzzer sounded. She didn't want to appear too anxious and let it ring again. A third time. Then, she got up and went to the door. She opened the door slightly. "Yes... "
"Stuart Bryant," came the reply.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Bryant. Won't you come in? You'll have to pardon my outfit, but I was just lounging around."
"I'm sorry, but I'm in a little bit of a hurry," Bryant said apologetically.
Disappointment ripped through her. She opened the door wide so that he could get a good look at her.
"All right, I'll get the button."
She hurried to the bedroom and left him standing at the door.
As she moved across the room, he was able to get a view of her.
A very good view.
He liked what he saw, and while she was gone, he stepped inside.
Lola returned to the living room and stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at Bryant and detected the nervousness in his face.
"I changed my mind," he said, his hand still gripping the knob on the closed door behind him. "I decided to accept your invitation to come in."
"I thought you were in a hurry," she said.
"Well, I wasn't in such a big hurry that I couldn't do more than say thanks for finding my button," he explained. He was really staring at her, his eyes moving up and down her body, each section appearing more lovely than the last.
"Won't you sit down?" Lola asked invitingly. He didn't want to sit down. He wanted Lola close to him. Very close to him.
"I was thinking perhaps you might be able to sew the button on my coat for me." She smiled.
"I'm not very good at sewing, but I certainly could sew a button on a coat."
She returned to the bedroom, got a needle and piece of black thread and came back.
He watched her intently as her terrific body swayed through the black lace lounger. It was almost as if she was wearing nothing except very brief panties and a very tiny bra. Almost.
She drew up close to him, and he felt the heat rising in his body and perspiration breaking out on his face. He tried to stand still while she attached the button, wanting desperately to say to hell with the button and sweep her into his arms.
"There, that didn't take long," Lola said. "It's as good as new." She was facing him squarely.
Suddenly, he reached out without giving thought to what he was doing and crushed her to him, his lips smothering hers and becoming locked in a tight embrace. He felt her arms surround him and tighten and her hard breasts driving into his chest. Her tongue was buried in his mouth.
They held the kiss for a long while. She threw back her head.
"Don't start something you can't finish, Mr. Bryant," she purred, knowing now that she had him exactly where she wanted him.
"Oh. I can finish it all right." He grinned, still clinging to her tightly. "That is, if you'll cooperate."
"Why don't you try me, Mr. Bryant?"
"I just might do that," he said. "And stop calling me Mr. Bryant." He laughed. "I guess you don't know my first name. It's Stuart. All of my friends call me Stu."
"All right, it's Stu, then," Lola said. "Why don't you take off your coat and have a drink?"
"Why don't you have dinner with me tonight?" Bryant suggested. "We could have some drinks and dinner and really paint the town red. You don't work on Saturday, do you, Lola?"
"Not this Saturday, I don't," she replied, pulling slightly away from him. "You know, I could whip up a meal right here. There's steak in the refrigerator."
"You mean you know how to cook, too?"
"Sure," she returned. "What's so strange about that?"
"Oh, nothing." He took hold of her hands and turned them over and grinned. "Those pretty hands don't look like dishpan hands to me, though. I'll bet those hands haven't washed very many dishes."
Lola merely laughed.
"Come on, let's cook up a big meal," she insisted, helping him remove his overcoat and then the coat to his suit. "Come on, let's cook up a meal," she repeated, leading him to the kitchen.
She got out a bottle of Scotch.
"There's ice in the refrigerator. Why don't you fix some drinks, Stu?"
He was unable to take his eyes off of her. Her body was doing things to him.
"All right, I'll do that."
"Now what would you like to eat, Stu?" Lola asked.
"I'm not particular," he returned. "After all, you're the cook."
"All right." She bit her lips excitedly. "Suppose we cook a couple of steaks and some French fried potatoes and fix some salads and coffee."
"Sounds delicious," Bryant agreed. "I could peel the spuds."
"Oh, now, Stu," Lola laughed, "I'll bet you never peeled potatoes in your life. How old are you anyway?"
He knew she was right.
"Thirty-one. I guess you're right about the spuds. But I could learn mighty quickly, Miss Trent."
"Say, now-you haven't forgotten my first name, have you? It's Lola. And the potatoes are right over here."
"Lola, it will be," Bryant beamed. "You know, I like that name."
Lola laughed.
"I need a drink. How about mixing a couple of drinks before you start on the potatoes?"
"Right now."
Lola got the steaks from the refrigerator and almost bumped into him while he was removing the ice.
"What's your hobby, Stu?"
"Oh, I play a little golf. Shoot in the high nineties on my best days. A game of tennis now and then. Sometimes, I go fishing on weekends in the summertime."
"Golf, tennis, and fishing... " Lola repeated, making a mental note. "Quite a variety. A regular girl friend, too, I suppose... " Stuart Bryant had finished pouring the drinks, took one to Lola, who was sticking a fork into the steaks on the stove. He handed her the drink and put his arms around her and spun her around toward him. "Girl friend? I've had a few girl friends. I... "
"Yes... " Lola prompted.
"I... " Bryant repeated, then paused. Then he crushed her to him and kissed her for a long while. Their tongues clashed, and he toyed with the thought of undressing her right then and there but finally discarded the idea in view of the fact she was in the midst of preparing dinner.
Lola felt a surge of excitement pounding within her. She was thinking that it would be pretty damn easy for a girl to fall in love with Stu Bryant although until now she had never entertained such a thought.
The Bryant story entered her thoughts. She had some of the material she needed to write it, but she needed more. Much more. She knew she could never get sufficient facts merely by seeing him for only one short night and she was going to have to make him want to see her again.
And again.
Finally, he released her. "Kissing you is pure dynamite." He smiled, reluctant to turn her loose. She laughed.
"Those steaks need "some attention." She pulled away from him and walked toward the stove.
Bryant's eyes followed every step she took. He liked the way her buttocks swayed as she walked, her flat stomach, the way her legs tapered down from her thighs, the sharp upsweep of her breasts, her beautiful face, the taste of her lipstick and he had had a generous sampling. She was, in short, pure unadulterated sex.
"There," Lola said, putting the last of the meal on the table, "it's ready. Sit down, Stu."
They sat down at opposite ends of the small table.
"You know, Stu, you're a very successful young executive," she said, thinking now about her story again. "What's your secret for your success?"
Bryant lifted his eyes toward her.
"Secret?" He hesitated. "Oh, I don't know. Never gave it much thought. Hard work and long hours, I suppose. Start early in the morning and work late most nights." He laughed aloud. "Say, you're an inquisitive gal, aren't you?"
Carefully, she was imbedding all of his answers deep in her memory. She knew she couldn't be too inquisitive on such a short acquaintance, but she was going to ask him one or two more questions before she stopped for awhile.
"You're a very handsome man."
"Thank you."
"How is it that you've never married?" Lola asked.
This one seemed to amuse him a great deal. "How do you know I've never been married? That I'm not married now?"
His rebuttal stunned her momentarily. "Well, I'm assuming that... "
"You're right," he interrupted. She breathed relief.
"I guess the right girl just hasn't come along," he explained. "Say, I've been doing most of the talking. Suppose we talk about you for a change."
"There isn't much to tell."
"I guess you've got a boy friend," he said, thinking she wasn't going to say one way or the other. "Well, have you?"
She had finished eating, got up, circled the table, and stood near him.
"Maybe... " she cooed.
He guided her onto his lap, and her breasts were near his lips.
"You're avoiding my question. I answered every one of yours. Come on, tell me about your boy friend. What's he like?"
She picked up the whiskey bottle and poured herself a fresh drink, then filled his glass.
"Current or past?"
"Current," he answered. "I never think about the past."
Lola drew her lips very close to his as her arms wound around his neck.
"Right now, I like to think he's rather tall with curly, black hair, very polite, a pretty swell guy." She kissed him hard and felt his hand raking her breasts. It was the first time he had touched them, and the touch of his hand electrified her, sending sharp spasms of desire reeling through her body.
After the long embrace, she picked up the bottle and said slightly above a whisper: "Let's go into the living room."
"What about the dishes?"
"To hell with the dishes," she returned, taking his hand and leading him to the living room and the divan. She sat down and pulled him down beside her. "I'd like a cigarette."
He lit two cigarettes and handed one to her.
"One more kiss like that last one and we're going to find ourselves letting our emotions run away with us."
"Why don't we?" she suggested, running her hand through his wavy hair. "Why don't we what?"
"Let our emotions run away with us." She loosened his tie and took it off.
"One more kiss like that... " His words trailed off under the impact of another kiss exactly like the last one. While she kissed him, she unbuttoned his shirt, ran her arms beneath it and up under his undershirt and clung to him. This was the longest time she had ever kissed a man during one kiss, and she was running short of breath.
At long last, she drew back away from him. Bryant's breath was short and jerky.
"I have an idea, Stu," Lola said anxiously. "Let's undress each other and go into the bedroom."
She knew from the expression on his face that he thought it was a wonderful idea.
CHAPTER SIX
Lola jumped up and pulled Bryant to his feet. Very quickly, she removed his shirt and undershirt. She was getting anxious now to see what a member of society's upper crust looked like.
In the raw.
His arms and chest and shoulders were more muscular than she had anticipated, and he had a good sun tan.
"Where'd you get the sun tan this time of the year?" she asked.
He laughed.
"Florida... last weekend."
Lola knelt down and took off his shoes and socks. She reached for his trousers, unfastened his belt and let the trousers slide down his legs. Once again, she was impressed by his muscular appearance.
He was standing there now clad only in his briefs. Pastel blue and pure silk. Suddenly, he thrust his arms around her and swept her to him and kissed her. He felt her sharp fingernails digging into his back and her pointed breasts hard against his bare chest.
Bryant wanted more. He wanted to feel her against him in the flesh even though the lace lounger she was wearing came very close. He searched for the buttons, the zipper, for something but found nothing.
"Take it off!" he moaned.
"You take it off, Stu!" She saw the look of perplexity on his face, finally realizing that he wanted to take it off but didn't know how. "It's very simple. It stretches." With that, she grabbed hold of the front of the neckline and yanked it forward some twelve or fifteen inches.
He looked down beneath the front of the garment and got a good view of her gorgeous breasts, nude except for the tiny wisp of the bra that covered the nipples. He began to work the lace off of her arms and downward until she was virtually nude from the waist up. As he drew the lounger down below her hips and buttocks, she stepped out of her spike heels. He guided her to the divan and went down with her and pulled the lounger away.
Lola was nude now except for the tiny bra and the matching black cloth that was somewhere between a pair of panties and a G-string.
Bryant gasped. She had the most delicate body he had ever seen on a woman. His eyes were soaking up the beauty of her.
"Well," she said impatiently, "you're almost there."
She was wearing just enough to make a man's imagination run wild. He wanted to see more, eyeing the hook which held the bra together in front. He reached for it and even before he unhooked it, his hands got a pretty good idea as to what was beneath the flimsy bra. Then he did unhook it and jerked the bra away, and the two swelling cones of sensual flesh basked in their freedom.
"God!" he groaned, his lips flashing to the rigid, tense tips and tasting them while his hands drew her legs up over his legs. Never had he been swayed by such brutal, raw lust which was grinding through him now. His lips left her breasts, moving up to her throat, the lobe of her ear, her cheek, and then to her mouth.
Her fingernails became claws in his back as he kissed her and his hand found the stretch lace of her panties and the warmth of her inner thighs, and he heard her gasp and sigh almost simultaneously. Her hard, firm breasts were like needles in his chest.
His brain was rocking wildly, and he could feel her hips rising and dropping back. He felt her hand searching for and finding the snaps on his briefs and jerking them loose. Then her hand found him, and a fresh flood of sensation ripped into his brain.
She tore loose from him suddenly, jumped up and yanked her panties down her legs and stepped out of them.
"I can't wait any longer!" she screamed, clawing at his briefs and pulling them from under him and down his legs.
They were both nude now.
For an instant, she looked at him for the first time. She knew now how New York's number one eligible bachelor looked in the nude. The sight fogged her senses. She grabbed his arm and urged him up and spun into his arms.
"Take me into the bedroom and do it, Stu!" She collapsed in his arms.
Bryant picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, his face buried in her breasts and her lips massaging his neck as they moved.
They rolled onto the bed and almost immediately her legs swept around his body and gripped him like a vise. He thought she was very strong for a girl who appeared so delicate. He felt her reaching for him and directing him.
Not that he needed directing.
Lola cried out as he answered her demands, and her hips broke into the fierce rhythm, searching desperately for all there was and more. The grinding torment within her was reaching for complete fulfillment amid the spinning, whirling motion which brought them to the great peak together.
Seconds later, she found it and screamed out her approval. Complete fulfillment, unmatched by either Hiram Sullivan or Gordon Earnhart.
Bryant lay depleted over her, his strength entirely gone. Lola Trent was more woman than his years had encountered previously. She possessed that something that made her stand out far above all the others.
Finally, he found the strength to move away from her, collapsing beside her. He wanted to fall asleep and dream about what had just happened, but sleep evaded him. Perhaps he didn't want to miss one minute of her.
Lola stretched out the full length of the bed on her back and stared up at the ceiling, only slightly visible from the dim reflection of light from the living room. Her thoughts turned to her story, and she felt guilty about using her body to get it. Regret filled her thoughts over having to write the story at all.
I'm in love with Stuart Bryant, she thought. If ever a girl fell in love with a man in less than twenty-four hours, I'm that girl. Still, she had a job to accomplish, and she was going to do it.
She turned on her side and faced him. His eyes were open, but she could see that he was drenched in silent meditation.
"Stu... " she said, breaking the silence.
"Yes."
"Have you ever been in love?"
His face changed expressions, spawning into a gentle smile.
"Not really, I suppose. I've liked a couple of girls very, very much."
"What do you look for first in a girl?" Lola asked.
He smiled again. He didn't answer immediately, his mind buried in deep concentration searching for an answer to her question.
"Loyalty, I guess. Loyalty above everything else. And then beauty and brains. Not necessarily in that order on those last two characteristics."
"If you found the right girl, would it make any difference if she wasn't a virgin?" Lola wanted to know. "I mean, could you overlook the fact she had had relations with other men?"
"Not necessarily," he replied, his hand moving to her remarkable breasts and beginning to caress them. "She wouldn't be getting a virgin in me. Like I told you earlier tonight, I never worry about the past. Only the present and the future. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes."
"I never dreamed when you sat down across from me at noon during lunch that before twelve hours had passed we'd be in bed together," he mused. "Did you?"
"No."
"The thought never really dawned on me until I kissed you that first time," he continued. "I'll admit I was carried away when I saw you in that lace thing. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you when you left the door to go after that button, but it wasn't until I kissed you that I entertained the first thought of trying to get you in bed with me."
"I guess that kiss brought a kind of mutual reaction," Lola admitted. She knew she was lying when she added, "I hadn't given it a thought, either, until I felt your lips against mine, and then I knew what was going to happen if I had anything to say about it."
Bryant inserted his arm beneath her neck and pulled her to him.
"What made you wear an outfit like that black lace when you knew I was coming to pick up the button?"
This was a question she hadn't expected.
"Oh, I like to wear things like that sometimes when I'm alone around the apartment," she lied. "I had it on when I called you and... well, I just left it on. I figured a man of your social standing wouldn't be shocked by what a girl wears."
"Thanks," he said.
"Thanks for what?"
"For leaving it on," he answered. "It certainly beckoned for me to come inside. That outfit's certainly a load of dynamite." He curled his lips toward hers. "I hope you don't wear it for every man who rings your doorbell."
"I can assure you no other man has ever seen me wearing it," Lola said, "and that no other man ever will. Not unless he's my husband, which I don't have."
Bryant drew her closer if that was possible and watched the curves of her body mesh into his.
"How does a girl with a job as a secretary have clothes like yours and an apartment like this one?"
This was another question which she hadn't expected.
"Most secretaries, you know, make only eighty or eighty-five dollars a week," he prompted.
"Maybe I'm better than the average secretary." She grinned.
"Maybe," he agreed. "You are in one way. I can certainly vouch for that."
She ran her fingers over his lips.
"In what way?" she teased.
"You know what way I mean."
"Come on, Stu," she begged. "Tell me. In what way am I better than the average secretary?"
He shook his head. He wasn't going to tell her.
"Say it, Stu!"
"I might shock hell out of you."
She touched him where he wanted her to touch him, and his body reacted swiftly, his lips and hands maneuvering.
"I'm getting hot again, Stu!" she gasped. "Hotter than all hell!" She wound her arms around him and drove him back against the bed and rose over him. "I'm going to make love to you, Stu! All you have to do is relax and let little Lola take charge this time!"
Bryant let her take charge. This was going to be a new experience for him. Lola was assuming the initiative. The idea spurred him to the greatest heights. It brought out a sensation in him he had never felt before, pouring unexcelled desire through his body, making him stronger than he had ever been previously. He was all man now and ready for her.
She enclosed him, simultaneously driving her breasts to his lips.
"Take them, Stu!" she said, demandingly and anxiously.
He tried to consume them, but they seemed so very much larger now. One at a time, he caressed them with his lips, his arms sweeping around her shoulders and his legs scissoring her.
She became a writhing mass of motion above him, her body moving in rhythmic precision, slowing down and speeding up at the dictation of her own need.
The end jolted him.
And it jolted Lola.
Their bodies quivered with the impact, and she sprawled against him, spent and seemingly lifeless. Only their breathing penetrated the stillness.
Bryant could not remember when he had experienced this much fun with a girl. If ever. Unconsciously almost, he was thinking about the past now even though he had always maintained a policy of never looking back, wondering how much experience this very feminine bundle of flesh had had with other men.
Finally, Lola's relaxed body collapsed beside him. She snuggled up against him and raised her head while he extended his arm beneath her neck and held her close.
Bryant's strength was so depleted now that he was unable to avoid falling asleep. His eyes faded shut, and he was lost to the world.
Moments passed. Half an hour. Lola roused out of her fogginess, stirring back to reality. She was curled up in Bryant's arms and wondered whether he was really asleep or merely relaxed. She ran her hand over his body, and he did not move. His body was rising and falling as he breathed.
Carefully and gently, Lola worked loose from his grasp, got up, found a cigarette and lit it. She looked down at him and blew a cloud of smoke over the bed.
She went into the living room, opened a drawer to a small desk and removed a notebook. She opened it to the first page. Written across the top were two words... "Stuart Bryant." Earlier, she had recorded the few mental notes she had made about Bryant while they were eating lunch in the bar.
She studied the notes silently: Stuart Bryant appears to be a pretty nice guy. Polite and well-mannered. Chicken pie is one of his favorite dishes. He also likes blueberry cobbler. He is rather tall and has black, curly hair and dresses like the rich man he is. His voice is very soft. At times, he appears to be almost timid.
Lola picked up a ball point pen and walked across the room to the coffee table. Once more she felt guilty about the manner in which she was getting him to unfold the story of his life. She needed a drink and picked up her glass, went into the kitchen and got fresh ice cubes from the refrigerator.
As she turned around, she saw the chair at the table where Stu had been sitting... the half filled cup of cold coffee... the pile of potato peelings... the dirty dishes.
She returned to the living room, sank down on the divan and poured herself a stiff drink. The whiskey burned as it blazed into her belly, but it stimulated her. She drew her legs up on the divan in front of her, picked up the notebook and pen and began to make more notes, some of which she would never be able to use in any newspaper story:
--- Stu has never been in love... He looks for loyalty first in a girl and then beauty and brains, not necessarily in that order. He's liked a couple of girls very, very much. The right girl has never come along. He attributes his success to hard work from early morning until late at night. Golf, tennis, and occasional weekend fishing in the summertime are his hobbies. Thinks only of the present and future- never the past. ---
She couldn't resist putting down notes about Bryant's intimate life. Notes which merely would refresh her memory but which would have no part in her story.
--- As a lover, Stu's the best I've ever known although my experience in this respect is short. He makes wild love. When I undressed him, he seemed a little embarrassed. He likes to kiss, and I like for him to kiss me. As Hi Sullivan said, he's got a weakness for a girl's legs and well-developed and shapely breasts. I seemed to please him on both counts. ---
She heard him stirring in the bedroom. Quickly, she jumped up and hurried to the desk and put the notebook away. She lit a cigarette and stood there in meditation. The way she was deceiving him was still bothering her, but she consoled herself partly with the fact that she knew she had fallen in love with him.
Again, she heard him move. She went to the bedroom door and looked into the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking.
"I guess I fell asleep," he said, his voice still showing signs of drowsiness. He got up and went to the door to her, put his arms around her shoulders and stood there soaking up her beauty. "You know what I think we should do?"
Lola touched his nose with hers.
"What?"
"I think we should go to Westchester and spend the entire weekend together. What about it?"
She didn't want to seem too anxious, but it would certainly give her a chance to find out how Bryant lived.
"Come on, let's dress and go to Westchester," he coaxed. "I'll bring you back early Monday morning. Remember, I'm an early riser."
"Do you really want me to go?" she asked, knowing damn well what the answer was going to be.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked you."
"Then, I'll go." Excitement swayed through her. "Let's dress and go to Westchester."
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was three o'clock that Saturday morning when they arrived in the suburban county known as Westchester. Most of the homes in the residential section were dark. Occasionally, there was one still brilliantly lighted, and Friday night parties were still in progress.
Bryant pulled the car to a standstill in the driveway of the mansion where he lived and removed his hand from the soft flesh above Lola's knee. The car was a new Cadillac, and Lola already had resigned herself to the fact that the house and its furnishings were going to be just as lavish as the automobile.
"Here we are," Bryant said, opening the door with the lights flashing on. He got out and circled the car, held the opposite door open for Lola while she climbed out. He thought that she was even more sexy in a tight sheath than she was in the nude.
She had put on the black sheath Sullivan had given her for the drive to the county, and the hem of the sheath had bared her thighs as she slid from the seat.
Bryant escorted her to the door, removed his key, unlocked the door and guided her inside as he snapped on the light in the large hallway. Directly to their right, a staircase led to the second floor.
"We're all alone so don't be nervous," Bryant told her. "The servants live in the small house far out to the rear of the place. I don't give a damn what they think anyway, and they know it."
She managed to relax now as he escorted her into the living room and turned on a small table lamp. She looked around the room and stopped in her tracks, stunned at the sight.
Thick wall-to-wall Oriental carpeting covered the floor. A large fireplace extended half the distance of one wall with a Colonial mantle running over it. The room was filled with heavy and expensive Colonial furniture. It was the most elaborate living room she had ever seen.
"What's the matter?" Bryant asked, noting that she seemed surprised.
"The room... it's beautiful," she replied. "I've never seen anything like this in all my life."
He removed her fur coat, then took his coat off and hung them in a small closet in the hallway. When he returned to her, he asked: "Are you hungry?"
"No. Are you?"
He nodded his head.
- "No. Would you care for a drink?"
"Now that I could really go for!" she answered excitedly. The Scotch she drank at the apartment had worn off. She wanted more. More Scotch and more of Stu Bryant. Much more.
Booze stimulated her to terrific heights of passion, and she wanted to be as uninhibited and passionate as possible during this weekend with Bryant. Besides, she figured that if she could entice Bryant into some heavy drinking, she could get much of the information she needed from him.
She wandered over to the divan and sat down while Bryant was getting the drinks from the fancy bar at one corner of the living room. She inserted a cigarette between her ripe, red lips and touched a match to it and inhaled the smoke deep into her lungs. She crossed her legs, permitting the sheath to ride high over her knees.
Bryant was approaching her now, his eyes glued to the gleaming flesh above her knees. He handed her a drink and sat down beside her. Once more she thought of the manner in which she was going about getting his life story, and the thought nauseated her. She took a stiff drink, feeling the whiskey warm her body.
"Why so sullen, Lola?" Bryant asked, putting his arm on her shoulder and looking down into the hot flesh spilling over the top of the neckline of the sheath.
She tilted her glass to her lips and almost emptied it.
"I'm not sullen, Stu. I'm just stunned by all of this. It's like a fairy story. Yesterday we met for the first time. Right now, it's only a little after three in the morning and we've already been to bed together twice."
"And we're going to spend the rest of the weekend in bed together. Right?" He grinned.
She felt her whole body quiver with ecstasy. She knew very well what they were going to do all weekend, but hearing him say it did something to her.
"That's right," she agreed, "and I'm beginning to get hot."
Bryant laughed, set his glass on the coffee table and put his arm around her.
"I'll bet I can make you really sizzle!"
She curled her lips around toward his.
"Why don't you, Stu? Why don't you really make me sizzle?"
"I'll go right to work on that!" He inserted his hand beneath the neckline of the sheath and cupped her bare breast and squeezed. "How's that for a start?"
He had no intention of stopping. This was only the beginning. His hand found the hem of the sheath, already riding high on her thighs, and immediately he became aware that she was wearing nothing beneath the sheath. He stroked the warm flesh and felt her arms go around his neck and pull his lips to hers.
"I told you I'd make you sizzle, Lola," he said, feeling the heat rise in her.
"I'm hot as hell!" she purred just before she ground her lips hard into his.
He felt her tongue snake into his mouth and penetrate deeply. He held the kiss for a long while, both of his hands continuing to work simultaneously.
Suddenly, she pulled away and threw her head back. "Where's the bedroom, Stu?"
"Which one?"
"Any bedroom, dammit!" she snapped impatiently.
"We'll manage to find one."
"Take off my dress!"
"That's just what I was going to do." He unzipped the sheath down the back and removed it. As he already knew, she was entirely nude underneath it. Her naked breasts rose majestically, high and steep, two vast peaks of red-tipped flesh. " You have a beautiful body, Lola."
"Don't talk." She was clawing at his clothes. Quickly, she took off his coat, tie, shirt and undershirt. She slipped down in front of him and took off his shoes and socks. Without getting up, she reached up and unfastened his belt and drew his trousers down his legs and off. "This is going to be a helluva weekend."
"I'll say it is."
Unbearable ecstasy shot through her. She jerked at the snaps of his shorts and let the silk briefs tumble down his legs and watched him step out of them. She was overwhelmed at the sight of him, forgetting at the moment that this wasn't the first time she had seen Stuart Bryant in the nude.
"Yes, this is going to be a helluva weekend," she reiterated.
Bryant drew her body into his, his eyes filled with lust. He felt her belly throbbing against his, her breasts knifing his chest, the pressure of her thighs increasing where he wanted it to increase. He sank his lips into hers in a slow, burning kiss that mounted in intensity.
Her lips retreated suddenly.
"Please stop fooling around and take me into the bedroom!"
He picked her up into his arms and carried her into the hallway, up the stairs to the second floor, their tongues entwined in a long kiss. She was exceedingly light, but he was staggering the last few steps into the bedroom.
Lola raised up and looked around. It was the largest bedroom she had ever seen, and the bed was high and extremely wide. The room was trimmed in gold and had fancy mirrors and was elaborately furnished.
Bryant stood there with Lola in his arms getting his breath.
"Fait me down!" she coaxed.
He carried her to the bed and placed her in the center of it. As he started to draw back to lie down beside her, her arms wound around his waist and pulled him down.
On top of her.
"Now, Stu! Right now!"
His body surged forward as Lola arched her hips high off the bed. He felt her body quiver and heard her gasp with the contact, and she locked her legs over his back.
"That feels good," she moaned. "It... " His lips found hers and drowned out her voice, and his hands smothered her breasts. Lola's hips turned into grinding pistons, and the assault grew furious. She was writhing, twisting, squirming.
Together, they reached up and touched the sky, each anticipated the imminent burst of thunder that was going to rock their bodies.
And then it came, engulfing and consuming them. Lola let out a high-pitched scream.
It was finished.
Their bodies, though still fused, were limp and spent and bathed in perspiration.
Lola had reached one firm conclusion. She was madly in love with Bryant. There wasn't any remaining doubt about it. He was for her. She wasn't concerned at all with the shortness of their acquaintance. If he was to ask her suddenly to marry him, she'd do it without any ifs or ands about it and to hell with her job and that story. To hell with everything else.
Bryant was very still now. He was thinking that no girl had ever possessed him so completely as Lola. He recalled some of the others in his silent meditation... society girls, a professional dancer, an actress, a singer, at least a dozen secretaries, and an occasional tramp. There had been times when he had sampled the charms of downright whores.
None, though, compared with Lola Trent.
Lola was superb. He liked everything about her... her personality, her big breasts, flaring hips, flat belly, her shapely buttocks, her trim legs, her beautiful face. He realized she'd make a man a wonderful wife.
Still, one thing bothered him. She wasn't a virgin. That, in itself, wasn't what bothered him, but he was wondering just how often she had relations with other men and whether she could brush aside the temptation of other men and reserve her charms strictly for him.
He rolled away from her, his body satisfied for the moment. He nestled close to her and watched her stare at the ceiling which was flooded with soft, blue light.
Lola was thinking about the story again now. Somehow in her mind she couldn't believe an easy-going man like Stuart Bryant would be so strong against newspapers and publicity. She couldn't believe he could hate anything. She turned over on her side and faced him. "Stu... "
"Yes." His voice was soft and gentle.
"Is it true that people who are high up in society are constantly in the newspapers?" she asked.
Bryant was amused at her question, wondering what had prompted her to ask it. He laughed.
"What makes you ask that?"
"Well, I've never seen anything about you in the newspapers, and I read them from front to back, too," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Don't you rank pretty high socially?"
Again, he laughed.
"I stay out of the papers. Let's just say I don't like publicity. Good or bad."
"Why?"
"Because my father had three wives... one at a time, of course," Bryant explained. "There were two divorces, and believe me, there was a lot of hell raised. The newspapers ate it up. They said his first wife-my mother-was running around with another man. The papers printed every damn word of everything that went on at the divorce trials. It was brutal. The papers turned the second divorce trial into a farce, even stirring back into the first one. The publicity almost ruined my dad. My God, it was awful!"
"And now you're bitter?"
"Yes, I am!" he answered firmly. "To hell with reporters and newspapers and publicity. I get along very well without the newspapers and publicity of any kind, and I intend to go along that way!"
"Do you dislike all newspapers?" Lola wanted to know.
"All of them! Particularly the Independent! If that bastard Hiram Sullivan ever prints my name in that rag of his again, so help me, I'll knock his block off!"
"I didn't think Hiram Sullivan owns the Independent," Lola countered. "Isn't he just the city editor or something?"
"I guess so, but he seems to set the policies, and he's the guy who has pestered hell out of me for five years. I was very young when he came into the office personally. I'd just taken over the firm after my father died, and I wound up throwing him out of the office. He's never forgotten that, and he'd crucify me in any story he wrote about me." He cleared his throat. "Why are you so interested in all of this, Lola?"
"Stu, I merely asked you a question," she said, "and you started talking about it. Besides, I guess I'm interested in everything you say and do." She had found out what she wanted to know, and she wasn't going to pursue this line of questioning any further.
She wanted now to make him forget about reporters and newspapers, and she drew close to him until her hips were touching his. She ran her hand over his body.
"Are you having fun with me, Stu?"
"I'll say I am. This is turning out to be one of the most enjoyable weekends I've had in a long, long while. Perhaps, I've never had a better one."
She kissed him lightly on his lips.
"Are you ready for a great big encore?"
"Are you?"
"I can't think of a better time than right now," she answered, a burst of excitement filling her voice. "Come on, turn over on your back."
Bryant rolled over on his back. She raised her head over him and kissed him hard.
He felt the tautness of her breasts grazing his naked chest.
She began to shower him with tiny kisses, moving over his cheeks, his neck, his chest.
"You like that?"
"Yes," he moaned, tremendous passion unfolding with him and sprouting out in all directions.
Lola moved lower, kissing his stomach and touching him delicately with her hand.
"And you like that, don't you, Stu?"
"You know damn well I do!"
Very slowly her lips moved lower, leaving their red impression with every kiss.
Still lower.
She heard him groan as she took complete possession of him, her lips having arrived at their ultimate destination. She watched his hands become fists.
"And you like that, don't you, Stu?"
He couldn't find the strength to answer her. He didn't have any strength left. Suddenly, his arms reached out for her. He spun her around, rolled her over, and drove her against the bed.
And they became one, amass of tangled flesh, his body swirling down into her as if this was the first time and there would never be another.
The breath-taking end erupted within a matter of seconds and brought with it satisfaction such as neither of them had known previously.
He heard her swear, the tone of her voice telling him that she had gotten everything out of it there was to get.
Lola lay there, her mind a blur. She closed her eyes and lapsed into meditation. The guilt which had appeared, vanished and then appeared again spasmodically during the past few hours was more prominent than ever now. This is a terrible thing to be doing to a man like Stuart Bryant, she thought. The feeling consumed her completely, and she wasn't even aware of it when Bryant finally pulled away from her and stretched out beside her.
Stu has to find out about me sooner or later, she was thinking. She thought there was a chance he might like her so much it wouldn't matter to him that she was a reporter. Still, she wasn't going to tell him and take the risk of having him dump her. He had given no indication that this weekend with her wasn't just a good-time weekend. It might turn out to be just a few tumbles on a mattress, and that would be that.
"What time do you think it is?" Lola asked, breaking the long silence.
Bryant didn't answer.
She raised up and looked down at him. Unless he was an awfully good actor, he was sound asleep. She got up from the bed, went to the dresser and looked at the clock. It was twenty minutes after six.
In the morning.
Lola yawned, raising her arms over her head and staring into the mirror. She was sleepy, but still excited. There were two more nights ahead-Saturday and Sunday nights. She still had a lot of questions to ask Stuart Bryant.
She faced her reflection in the mirror once more. So much had happened to her in such a short time, and she had thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.
She yawned again. Finally, she returned to the luxurious bed and crawled up onto it beside Bryant.
Only seconds passed before she lapsed off into the dreamy world of peaceful slumber.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Six days passed. Or nights, depending on how you count time.
It was Thursday night, exactly one week and a day since Lola Trent had been given the assignment of writing a story about Stuart Bryant by Hiram Sullivan. A week and a day since Sullivan had taught Lola the vices of cigarettes, liquor, and sex. And how to be seductive-appearing in short skirts and revealing dresses.
Some people, of course, do not regard any of these things as vices. However, that's the way Lola regarded them, but she was getting a thrill out of her new way of life and liked it.
Three nights had passed since Bryant had driven her back to her apartment bright and early the previous Monday morning. She had not seen him or heard from him since he had kissed her goodbye in the hallway near her apartment door early that Monday morning, and he had given no indication as to whether he planned to see her again.
Lola hadn't heard from anyone all week except Hiram Sullivan, who told her he'd like to see her again Thursday night. Same time and same place as their previous rendezvous. She was going there now. It was the first time she had even seen the Independent building since the other tete-a-tete with her boss.
She spoke to the night watchman.
"There's nobody there except Hi Sullivan, Miss Trent," the watchman said, marveling at the transformation which had taken place over Lola since the last time he had seen her.
"I know,',' Lola returned, aware that the watchman's eyes were following every move of her body. She entered the elevator and went upstairs. Seconds later, she opened the door to Sullivan's office.
Nothing had changed since the last time she was there. Sullivan was seated behind his desk reading the current edition of the Independent. He didn't look up immediately.
"Hello, Lola," Sullivan said, still not looking up at her.
"Good evening, Hi."
"Did you close the door?"
"Yes."
"Well, go back and lock it," he said.
Lola returned to the door, snapped the night latch and walked slowly back to his desk, circled it this time and slid onto the edge of the desk and crossed her legs. The tight skirt she was wearing rode high above her knees, exposing a streak of white flesh above the tops of her nylons.
Sullivan still hadn't looked up at her, but Lola watched his head swing slowly around until his eyes picked up the shapeliness of her legs and knees. She lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke in his direction. She saw his eyes move slowly upward, pausing on her narrow waist, then up and out over the sharp up sweep of her breasts. They remained there for a long while, seemingly measuring them for size.
Presently, Sullivan was face to face with her. "Well, how are things going with Bryant?" he asked.
"Fine, I suppose," she answered. "I've already got a helluva lot of material. I've spent most of this week getting it organized. I can't take notes when I'm with him, and I really have to put the old thinking cap on when I get around to putting everything on paper."
"I know," he agreed. "Are you getting close to coming up with the story?"
"I don't think so," Lola replied. "There are a lot of unanswered questions, but I'll get the answers if you'll just be patient."
His eyes were concentrating on the big bulges in her tight royal blue blouse.
"Like I told you, I want a thorough job, and there's no deadline." He was literally undressing her with his eyes. "Why don't you remove your coat?"
She slid from the desk, removed her coat and tossed it across the back of a chair, then returned to the desk and sat down on top of it again.
"Did Bryant bring up those divorces of his father's?" Sullivan asked.
"Yes," Lola returned. "Those divorces brought about his hatred for newspapers and everything connected with them. And he sure as hell hates them with a passion."
"Did he mention me personally?"
"He certainly did. He said if you ever bothered him again, he was going to knock your block off." She picked up Sullivan's cigarettes, took one and waited while he lit a match for her.
Sullivan's face showed his bitter resentment toward Bryant.
"Lola, I want you to hit this story hard. Stay with it. Bleed him for every little bit of information possible. Even if it takes another month, get it all."
"All right." She opened a drawer to Sullivan's desk, removed a bottle of whiskey and a glass and poured herself a drink. She took a stiff drink and felt the liquor burn all the way down.
Sullivan got up and drew close to her and put his hands on her shoulders.
"So far, so good," he said. "You're doing a wonderful job, Lola."
"Thank you."
He lifted her down from the desk and pulled her close to him.
"Wasn't I right when I told you that Bryant is a sucker for a girl's legs and titties?"
Lola laughed aloud.
"Aren't all men?"
"Well, yes," Sullivan agreed. "Did you go to bed with him?"
"That's none of your damn business, Hi. All you're concerned about is whether I get the story, and you're going to get it."
He detected coolness in her voice.
"Okay." Suddenly, he drove his lips into hers and felt the tenseness in her body.
While he was kissing her, she thought of Bryant's answer to her question of what he looked for most in a girl... loyalty. She knew she had no real reason to assume that she was Bryant's girl. Nevertheless, she liked to think so. Just thinking about Bryant made her loins ache, and they were aching now. Not from Sullivan's kiss but from the fact she was thinking about Bryant.
Lola had made one resolution-that at least until she knew she didn't have a chance with Bryant, no other man was going to get her in bed. She didn't mind Sullivan getting his kicks.
To a point.
He could kiss Her as he was doing now. She didn't mind even if he put his hands on her breasts through her clothing as he was doing now, but that was going to be all.
She felt no sensation whatsoever from Sullivan's caresses now. Her love was reserved for Bryant until such time as he himself indicated he didn't want it. If Bryant placed such a high value on loyalty, and she knew that he meant with regard to sex when he said it, then she was going to be loyal to him.
Sullivan drew slightly away from her, his hands dropping to her hips.
"There's a helluva lot of woman beneath that outfit, Lola."
She could see the hunger in his eyes, the pure, raw lust that always shows in a man who is in need of a girl.
"Thank you," she said simply.
"Are you going to take it off or do you want me to?" Sullivan asked, his face showing traces of perspiration.
She laughed while she tried to think of some way to turn the whole thing into a joke.
"You know what they always say, Hi... never fool around with the hired hands." She backed away from him. "It isn't a good policy."
"To hell with what they say!" he countered. "You and I understand each other, Lola." He moved nearer to her again. "Besides, I'm just part of the hired help around here."
"The answer is no, Hi," she said with firmness. "Ours is strictly a business proposition, and it's going to remain that way." She hesitated, watching the anger sink into his eyes. "Give me a cigarette."
"You weren't talking that way a couple of weeks ago, Lola," he recalled. "Not when you went all out to get that choice assignment." He had lost track of the exact time since he had seen her.
"Why, you bastard, you!" she snapped angrily.
Without saying a word, Sullivan walked to her, grabbed hold of her and crushed her to him. His arms went around her, and he reached for the buttons at the back of her blouse.
She jerked away from him.
"Keep your damn hands off of me!" She turned toward the door. "I'd better be going. As soon as it's ready, you'll get your damn story!"
Sullivan ran across the room and blocked the door.
"No, don't go!" he pleaded. "We can talk, can't we?" Lola stopped.
"All right, we can talk, but that's all." She saw the relief in his eyes.
He walked slowly across the office to his chair behind his desk and sat down in it.
She followed him and sat down in a chair near the desk, making certain that her skirt didn't pull up any higher over her knees than ordinarily. She lit a cigarette.
"Now, what do you want to talk about?"
He was pouring two drinks, having already decided that perhaps a few drinks might weaken Lola's resistance. Maybe that was what turned the trick the first time. He didn't know, but he was going to find out.
"I don't know," he said finally in answer to her question. "I just want to talk."
"All right, talk," Lola shot back, taking one of the drinks and sipping it.
Sullivan tried to relax in his chair.
"Where did you live before you came to New York, Lola?"
"A little town in Illinois."
"Another case of a girl getting tired of a little town and moving to the big city. Is that right?"
"That's right," she answered, puffing hard on her cigarette.
"I'll bet you never took a drink until after you hit New York."
She smiled.
"I tried to drink a couple of times when I was a senior in high school, but the damn stuff tasted terrible. I don't like it now, but it does make me feel good."
She emptied her glass, reached across the desk and picked up the bottle, paused.
"May I?"
Sullivan thought of telling her to drink all her guts would hold, but he said, "Help yourself. That's what it's here for." He saw the glassiness gathering in her eyes and thought that her legs were beginning to get restless now. As she sat back down with the fresh drink in her hand, she crossed her legs and her skirt rose high above her knees. She made no effort to pull it down.
"How long have you worked for the Independent, Hi?" Lola asked, raising the glass to her lips more often now.
"Twenty years," he replied. "I started here as a copy boy right after the war. After a couple of years, I talked them into letting me try my hand at reporting. Eight years ago, they made me city editor."
"Very interesting," Lola observed. "You've done very well for yourself."
He poured himself another drink and extended the bottle toward her.
"More?"
She didn't answer but took the bottle and refilled her glass.
He saw that her hand was unsteady now.
Suddenly, she giggled aloud.
"You'd like to get me real drunk, now wouldn't you, Hi?"
"The thought hadn't crossed my mind," he lied. "What makes you think that?"
She got up and walked around behind him. She was feeling very gay now. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"Because you want what I've got. Now, confess-up, Hi. Isn't that the truth?"
He felt the heat swelling in him. Slowly, he twisted his head around toward her.
"What've you got, Lola?"
She turned his head back until he was no longer looking at her. She began to clap her hands behind him and broke into a little dance to the rhythm of her hands. She removed her blouse and dangled it over his head and in front of him.
"You oughta see what I've got!" She tossed the blouse over the desk and onto the floor in front of it. Her breasts swayed with the motion of her hips. "Mustn't peek, Hi!"
Passion whirled through his body. He wanted to turn around and grab hold of her, but he was afraid it would frighten her from doing what she obviously was doing.
Lola peeled off the skirt, shook it in front of his face and threw it into the chair near him. She was down to her panties, nylons, and spike heels now.
"Remember, don't peek, Hi! I feel wild as hell!"
The passion grinding through him was running all out of control.
Lola stepped out of her heels, rolled one stocking down her leg and draped it over his shoulder.
"One down and one to go!" She giggled. Then she removed the other stocking and tossed it down into his lap and stepped back into her high heels. Only her panties covered her nudity. "And now... now, Hi!"
Again, he was tempted to turn around but didn't.
She removed the panties, swung them over his head.
"Heavy, heavy hangs over your head, Hi!"
He looked up and saw the panties dangling over him. She dropped them into his face.
Without warning, he spun out of the chair, swept her to him, and kissed her.
She jerked loose from him.
"The show's over, Hi!"
"What did you say?"
"The show's over!"
"You mean...?" he said in disbelief.
"That's all Lola wrote," she laughed. She grabbed the panties, scooped up the nylons and ran around the desk and picked up her skirt and blouse. She started to put them back on.
Sullivan was standing there stunned.
"You're joking!"
"No, Hi. I'm serious." She adjusted her skirt, inserted her arms into the blouse and buttoned it. "See... " She wadded the nylons into her hand and turned toward her coat.
"Why, you beautiful devil, you!" he said, still unable to believe his eyes.
"Lola Trent's reserved for the present anyway," she said, gathering her coat into her arms. "I'm sorry, Hi, but that's the way it is."
Sullivan started toward her and stopped suddenly.
"Bryant?"
"Stu Bryant," she said, edging toward the door. She stopped and pointed her finger at him. "But don't you worry. You're going to get your story. Lola Trent's never fallen down on an assignment yet."
He watched her unlock the door, step into the hall and close the door behind her. He closed his eyes and stood there, only the sound of her high heels clicking against the floor breaking the stillness. Then the footsteps disappeared.
CHAPTER NINE
It was Sunday night. Nearly a week had passed now since Lola had seen Stu Bryant. And she hadn't heard from him. It had been a long, lonely week.
Lola had spent most of the week organizing her notes about Bryant to perfection and thinking of other questions she wanted to ask him.
If she ever saw him again.
She had remained in her apartment as much of the time as possible, hoping against hope that the telephone would ring. Nobody telephoned her except Hiram Sullivan, asking her to come to his office Thursday night, an appointment she reluctantly made and kept.
She was sitting in her living room now. She had finally given up hope that Bryant was going to call her and had decided to make a stab at writing her story about him. She stared at the words on the paper in her typewriter. One question after another kept pressing into her mind, and she didn't have the answers.
She just had to see Bryant at least one more time.
She lit another cigarette from the butt in her fingers. It was no use. She couldn't do the kind of a story she wanted to write without additional information. And only Bryant could supply that information.
She pushed the typewriter aside, got up and wandered across the room to the window and looked outside. A light snow was falling, the soft flakes beating against the pane. Bryant... she couldn't get Bryant out of her thoughts.
She needed him for more than one reason. Not only did she want to worm more information out of him, but she found herself craving a man's love again. Desire rippled through her body, clawing at her like a knife. For a moment, she almost wished she had allowed Hiram Sullivan to go ahead and give her the royal treatment when she saw him Thursday night. Actually, though, she was glad that she hadn't. Somehow, in her thoughts, she had a positive feeling that Bryant was going to be in touch with her again.
Lola finally deserted the window. She decided to take a stiff drink and go to bed. Perhaps Monday morning things would be different. If not, she'd go back to the bar where Bryant ate lunch and hope that he would be there. This idea had been tempting every day all during the week, but she always discarded it because she certainly didn't want Bryant to think she was running after him.
She went into the kitchen, poured herself a drink and downed it. She went to her bedroom, turning off the lights as she passed through the living room. In the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes in front of the mirror and drew her hands briskly over her breasts. A flurry of unchecked lust churned violently through her loins and fanned out over her body.
She turned off the lamp on the dresser and crawled into bed. Somewhere she could hear a clock striking: seven... eight... nine... ten. Ten o'clock. She couldn't remember when she had gone to bed so early.
For a long while, she rolled and tossed, unable to remain still long enough to go to sleep. Stu Bryant kept stabbing into her thoughts. Maybe he found out that I'm a reporter for the Independent, she thought, and that's the reason he hasn't called me. Maybe he didn't get the satisfaction from being in bed with me that he thought he was going to get.
Over and over again, she recalled what had happened the previous weekend... the things they did... every little incident. She could think of nothing she said or did that might have caused him to forget about her.
She was beginning to feel drowsy. Her eyes faded shut, and she lapsed into a dreamy sleep.
Suddenly, the telephone rang. Once... twice... three times! Lola stirred. The telephone continued to ring. She raised up sleepily, reached over and turned on the lamp on the night table, got up and ran nude into the living room, picked up the phone.
"Hello... "
"Lola?" the voice echoed from the opposite end. "Yes."
"This is Stu."
In her drowsiness, she hadn't recognized his voice. Excitement skyrocketed through her.
"Well, Stu what a surprise this is, in the middle of the night."
"It is getting late, isn't it?" he admitted. "A little after eleven. I didn't get you out of bed, did I?"
"No. I was just sitting around hoping something would happen that would be exciting."
"How would you like to fly to San Francisco with me for three or four days?"
"To San Francisco? When?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight? My, God, you sure do things on the spur of the moment, don't you?"
"I guess I do, but something's come up," he explained. "A big business deal."
Lola knew damn well she wanted to go, but she quickly realized she had to play it careful. After all, Bryant thought she was a secretary, and a secretary couldn't just get up and run off with her job staring her in the face only nine or ten hours away. "But I have to go to work in the morning," she lied.
"To hell with your job," Bryant argued. "Call your boss and tell him something. Anything. Tell him there's illness in the family and you need to get away three or four days. I'll have you back here in time to go to work Thursday morning."
She wanted to tell him she'd go without a second of hesitation, but she did hesitate, wanting to make it look good.
"I don't know whether I should or not."
"Go ahead," he insisted. "I took the chance and booked two reservations on the two-fifteen flight to the coast. We'll have a helluva time out there together."
She remained silent, excitement continuing to swell through her.
"Will you go, Lola?" Bryant prompted.
"I'll have to pack," she said.
"Of course, you'll have to pack, but that won't take long. Throw some of those sexy clothes into a suitcase and your toothbrush. It's that simple, isn't it?"
"Yes," she agreed. "All right, I'll go! When will you pick me up?" She heard him breathe a deep sigh of relief.
"Good! We'll really live it up! I'm down at the office, and I'll pick you up in thirty minutes. Can you get ready in a half-hour?"
"Yes."
"All right, get to packing. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Stu."
She hung up the receiver. She didn't know when she had been so thrilled. Three more nights with Stuart Bryant. God, what a break she was getting. She was going to let him make love to her until there wasn't an ounce of strength left in his body. Or hers.
Excitedly, she ran into the bedroom. She wasn't a bit sleepy now. She removed a new pair of nylons from a dresser drawer, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled them up over her shapely legs. Bryant's voice came back to her... "Throw some of those sexy clothes into a suitcase'. Well, she'd take along some sexy clothes all right, but damned if she intended to wear them any more than was absolutely necessary. She was going to become a nudist for three glorious days.
She went to the mirror, combed her hair and applied fresh makeup. She stepped into a pair of spike heels, moved to the closet and pondered over the dress she would wear on the plane. She had already made up her mind that she wasn't going to wear a damn thing except her shoes, her nylons and a sheath.
A sheath that would leave her charms easily accessible to Stu's wandering hands.
No slip, no bra, no panties.
It would be dark on the plane, and she and Stu just might be able to engage in a little bonus love-making en route.
She found the sheath she wanted, a black one with no sleeves and a front zipper extending from the neck all the way to the waist. If Stu didn't have fun with this sheath, it would be his own fault.
She slipped into it and zipped the zipper all the way to her neck. She got a suitcase and her makeup case. Quickly, she put two more sheaths into the suitcase, went into the bathroom and got her toilet articles and packed them.
Now for more high heels. She got two pairs from the closet, picked up an old issue of the Independent, wrapped it around the shoes and tucked them into the suitcase. She also packed two more pairs of nylons, two slips, two bras, two pairs of panties and a couple of pairs of baby dolls with bikini panties which she had no intention of sleeping in.
She closed up the suitcase and the makeup case and was ready to go. On second thought, she opened the suitcase again and inserted a pair of black leotards with a deep "V" neckline and high cut French legs and a two-piece satin pajamas. Lola figured she just might want something more comfortable than a sheath to lounge around the hotel room in while Bryant was out transacting his business.
No sooner had she snapped the suitcase shut again than she heard the door buzzer sound. She was swayed with excitement once more as she hurried to the living room door and opened it.
"Hello, Lola," Bryant said in his soft masculine voice.
"Hi, Stu. Come in."
He was already pressing past her. Scarcely had she closed the door before he took her into his arms and kissed her. It was a long, lingering kiss that touched off the lust in both of their bodies. Their tongues clashed in the tight embrace, and he felt the pressure of her breasts against his chest and her body swaying with his.
When he released her, he continued to cling to her.
"We don't have much time, but could you go for a quick one, beautiful?"
"I'll take it any way I can get it!" she blurted. "Quick or otherwise!"
Without another word, he guided her toward the bedroom.
"What a surprise all of this is," Lola beamed. "To think that here we are in New York now, and by daylight, we'll be in San Francisco-clear across the United States."
"That's right." He grinned, facing her. "See how quickly you can undress me."
She wasted no time, removing his coat, jacket, tie, shirt, and undershirt in nothing flat. She took off his shoes and socks and trousers in even less time and reached for his briefs.
"Wait!" he interrupted her.
"For what?"
He spun her around toward him.
"I like that dress! I have a sneaky suspicion it opens down the front."
"Why don't you find out?"
He found the zipper and pulled it down, all the way to her waist. Her big breasts, the nipples pert and taut, sprung into view. He reached down and caught hold of the hem of the sheath and raised it over her head and off. She was nude except for the heels and the nylons. He waited while she stepped out of the shoes, then knelt down in front of her and rolled the nylons' down her legs and took them off.
"God, what a woman!"
"How much time do we have?" she asked.
Bryant glanced at his watch.
"Thirty minutes. No more."
"That's long enough, but let's not waste any of it!" She caught hold of his briefs and this time she unfastened them and let them fall down his legs. "Boy, are you ready for business!" With that, she pulled him to her and went stumbling to the bed with him.
His hands covered her breasts like magnets, fondling and caressing them.
She grew impatient, ecstasy driving through her body rapidly.
"Forget the preliminaries, Stu! I'm ready! I've had a whole week to get hot!"
He ground his lips into hers, felt her tongue racing into his mouth and her legs seeking him. He plunged down into the sea of flesh, and almost immediately, she began to twist and squirm beneath him. Throaty noises came from her lips.
Together, they soared high, touching the sky.
And suddenly, they were all the way. As high as they could go. Lola screamed as the end came, and Bryant collapsed against her.
"More, Stu!"
He rubbed his nose against hers. "That's all she wrote for this time, baby. We've got a plane to catch. Remember?"
"Yes, dammit!"
He rolled away from her and got up. He began to dress.
"Tomorrow night... "
"Tomorrow night we'll set a record," she interrupted, finishing his sentence.
"Come on," he urged, knowing that time was closing in on them now. "Let's go to Frisco."
She climbed from the bed, picked up her clothes and started dressing. What little dressing she was going to do.
He watched her squirm into her sheath.
"I sure do like that dress," he grinned. "A dress like that ought to come in very handy in the darkness on a plane."
"You think so?" He merely nodded.
CHAPTER TEN
The hours passed slowly for Lola the following day. She had lounged around the luxurious hotel suite in San Francisco anxiously awaiting five o'clock, the time Stu had told her he would return from his business engagement.
It was nearing five o'clock now, and Lola relaxed on the plush divan thinking about everything that had happened to her during the last twenty-four hours. Just to surprise Stu, she was wearing the gold, black-trimmed satin pajamas. The pants clung to her like rubber, and each leg had a thirty-inch slit up the side. Other than the pajamas, she wore only spike heels.
Yes, the past twenty-four hours had been wonderful, and there were many more hours ahead. After the plane had settled down in the air, they had had a lot of fun. Bryant found her sheath very amusing and very convenient. In other words, he loved that dress.
And what was beneath it.
Which was nothing.
Except Lola in the flesh.
Neither of them had slept a wink during the trip. It was after five o'clock that morning, San Francisco time, when they finally had arrived in their hotel suite, and both of them were exhausted. They had stripped off their clothes, piled into bed, made quick, violent love and fallen asleep.
Lola had only a faint recollection of Bryant leaving her for the business appointment. She remembered that he had told the hotel desk clerk to awaken him at noon and had a hazy memory of the telephone ringing and of Bryant kissing her as he was about to depart.
It was after three o'clock when she had awakened and decided to get up. For nearly five hours now she had browsed around the suite alone except for some fifteen minutes during which the maid had stopped in to make the beds and clean the suite.
Now she heard Bryant inserting the key into the door, and fresh excitement stirred through her. As he entered, she got up and went to him.
"Hi, Stu."
Bryant put his briefcase down and took her into his arms.
"Hello, darling." Holding her while she was wearing nothing except the satin pajamas was almost like holding her nude. He drove his body hard into hers and kissed her.
She was aware that this was the first time he had ever called her darling, and her mind was quick to pick up the word.
It wasn't a long kiss, but it was a fiery one. As he drew his lips away, he asked: "Have you had anything to eat?"
"No."
"Are you hungry?"
"Starved," she answered.
His lips were very close to hers again.
"The night is ours. Why don't we have a full-course meal and a bottle of booze sent up and eat here? That way we won't have to dress for dinner. How does that sound?"
"I can't think of a better suggestion."
He smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"All right, that's what we'll do. Suppose you call downstairs and order the whiskey while I slip into something more comfortable."
"Okay."
Bryant pulled away from her and went into the bedroom. As he undressed, he could hear Lola putting in the order for the liquor over the telephone. He felt good. He had had a very successful and profitable business day, and now he was going to spend the night with a beautiful woman.
The bedroom had a pleasing feminine smell to it, and Bryant liked it. Lola Trent was his idea of a real woman. He liked everything about her. She was blonde, and deep down inside, he knew he had a weakness for blondes. She was beautiful and shapely. She had a pleasant voice, and there was nothing coarse about her. Likewise, she didn't appear to be the gold digger type.
He was nude. He removed his house slippers and a pair of two-piece maroon pajamas from his suitcase and put them on. He heard a knock on the door of the suite.
"Stu... " Lola called.
"Yes."
"Here's the man with the liquor."
"Well, sign for it."
Bryant heard her talking to the bellhop, and he heard the bellhop say: "Thank you, ma'am."
He knew the bellhop had thanked Lola for the tip she had given him.
Bryant returned to the big, spacious living room of the suite. Lola was mixing the drinks. She turned around and faced him. She laughed aloud, seeing him in his maroon pajamas.
"Do you always wear pajamas... when you relax for the night, I mean?"
"Yes, I do."
"Is maroon your favorite color... in pajamas?" she asked.
"Yes-in pajamas." He moved to her. "You know, you're the most inquisitive girl I've ever known. I'll bet you asked me a thousand questions on that plane last night. Why, you know me like a book."
"I admit I know you very well," Lola agreed, "considering I've only known you since a week ago last Friday." She stared off into space. "God, it seems like I've known you forever."
He drew her to him and kissed her. He could feel the sharpness of her breasts against him and knew only two thin layers of cloth separated their bodies.
"Let's have a couple of drinks," he suggested when he turned loose of her, "and then figure out what we're going to eat. There's a menu on the writing table."
Lola picked up a drink, lit a cigarette and went to the writing table and got the menu, and they sat down together on the divan. They began to study the menu.
"You see anything on there you'd like?" Bryant asked, putting his arm around her.
"What I want isn't on the menu," she returned.
"Well, what I want isn't on the menu, either, but we have to eat," he joked back. She looked up at him and laughed. "What are you going to eat, Stu?"
"The lobster." He pulled the bow at the waist of the top of her pajamas, inserted his hand up under the clinging material, cupped her breast and squeezed gently but firmly.
"I've never eaten lobster," Lola said, feeling the sharp pangs of desire curling through her.
"You'd like it."
"All right, we'll have two lobster dinners," she said, the lust rising more sharply now. She threw her head back toward him. "Are you sure you want to eat... first?"
He let out a low chuckle.
"I guess I can wait that long." He cleared his throat. "After dinner, though, you'd better watch out because you and I are going for the record tonight."
She felt his hand massaging, caressing, squeezing, flicking the nipples.
"The way I feel right now we'll break the record all to hell by midnight."
"You keep right on feeling that way."
"I don't have any choice so long as you keep on doing what you're doing," she purred.
He felt the heat rising in her.
"You like what I'm doing, don't you, Lola?"
Her body quivered.
"Oh, God, yes!"
"Maybe we ought to make love once... before dinner," Bryant suggested.
"No!" she blurted out. "Dinner comes first. I don't want any interruptions once we get started. Go on and order the lobster, Stu. The quicker we put in the order, the quicker... " His lips meshed into hers, drowning out her voice.
She knew she couldn't take much of that without yielding to his suggestion to postpone dinner for a little while. She worked her lips loose from his.
"Order the lobster."
He deserted her reluctantly, picked up the telephone and put in the order for the dinners.
Lola emptied her drink, poured another one, got up and moved across the room and turned a dial on the wall that sent soft music sifting through the suite. She needed to get away from him until the dinners arrived and went into the bedroom. She looked into the mirror. Guilt such as she'd never felt before rolled through her. She knew when they returned to New York she was going to write the story for Sullivan. She had everything she needed to write it now.
Everything and more. She didn't need to ask him another question. She knew she could almost write a book about him. She had brought up the subject of newspapers three or four times, and she was quite aware that when her story was printed that it would be the end of her relationship with Stu Bryant.
The thought made her weak. She went back into the other room just as the waiter knocked on the door. Stu was answering it.
The waiter entered, pushing a cart loaded with food. He removed a folding table from the closet and set it up and transferred the food from the cart to the table.
"Anything else now, Mr. and Mrs. Bryant?" the waiter asked.
"That will be all for the present," Bryant answered, removing two one-dollar bills from the pocket of his pajamas and handing them to the waiter.
"Thank you."
After the waiter was gone, Lola looked at Stu saucily and asked: "How did you register when we checked in, Stu?"
"As Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Bryant, of course," he replied, holding her chair for her as she sat down at the table.
She liked the way he said that. She liked the sound of it... Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Bryant.
There was a lengthy silence while they dined. Occasionally, Bryant glanced over at her, his eyes picking up the swell of her breasts against the soft, clinging top of her pajamas. He was thinking that being around Lola Trent was just one tremendous thrill after another. The last time his eyes fell on her, he asked: "How do you like the lobster?"
"Delicious. I've found out I haven't tasted all of the good things there are to eat."
Another ten minutes passed and they rose from the table. The soft music continued to penetrate the suite.
Bryant joined her at the opposite end of the table and took her hand.
"Would you like to dance? The music's terrific."
Without saying a word, she wound his arm around her and they glided across the rug. It wasn't exactly the kind of floor on which to dance, but neither of them cared. She felt his flawless body pressed snugly against hers and was overwhelmed by the closeness of him.
While he kissed her, she loosened the trunks of his pajamas and let them fall to the floor, and she could feel him stepping out of them, losing his slippers in the process.
Bryant reciprocated, his hands peeling the lower section of her pajamas away. He knew without looking that she was naked underneath.
As they broke out of the kiss, Lola removed his pajama top, and he was nude.
They melted into each other's arms and started to dance again.
"Take the rest of it off," Bryant mumbled, waves of passion gyrating through him.
"If you want it off, you take it off, Stu."
He did, removing her arms and letting the pajama top tumble to the floor. Her dazzling breasts glistened in the dull reflection of light.
She was nude now, too, except for her spike heels.
While they continued to dance, "he could feel the tautness of her breasts throbbing against his chest.
"Have you ever danced in the nude before?"
"This is the first time for me."
"Me, too." His lips were very close to her ear. "How many men have gone to bed with you, Lola?"
"Three-counting you."
He certainly had no room for complaint on that score and was delighted that the number was so small. He had long lost track of the number of girls with whom he'd slept and seduced.
"How many since that day we had lunch together in the bar?"
"Only one... you!" She came face to face with him. "And how many girls have gone to bed with you since that day we ate lunch together?" she asked, remembering that a whole week passed when she didn't see him.
"Only you, Lola. After that weekend we spent together, I couldn't have taken another girl if I had wanted to. You leave a man weak as a kitten."
He caressed her ear with his lips, and her earring fell to the floor. Simultaneously, they went down together to pick it up, both of them on their knees facing each other.
Bryant reached out for her, put his arms around her and pulled her toward him. Their lips came together automatically, and they sprawled on the floor in a deep and passionate kiss. Her hands dug deep into his back.
"Do it!" she begged.
Bryant had had enough experience with Lola to know that when she had that tone in her voice and that look of urgency on her face that she was ready. There was no need for further preliminaries. He eased one arm under her legs and the other under her shoulders and started to pick her up.
"No!" she said, objecting to any possible delay. "Right here, Stu!" She sprawled out on the floor, sinking her heels into the plush carpeting, and pulled him down with her.
Their bodies met, and it was as if he had touched her with the point of a hot iron. She let loose a long, deep sigh of delight and locked her arms around his neck.
It was short but sweet, and already Bryant was thinking about the next time.
In the bedroom on the big, soft bed.
The floor had been a new experience for him, but once there was enough.
When the lust in their bodies had finally subsided, Bryant picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
That was where the record was going to be broken.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Daylight was beginning to filter in around the edges of the shades in the bedroom. Bryant felt Lola's warm body against him. He felt the movement of her breasts as she breathed peacefully. He wondered if she finally had fallen asleep.
The room was very still and had been that way for a long while. Bryant kissed her lightly on the lips, and her eyes opened slowly.
"Have you been asleep?"
"No," Lola replied. "I haven't slept a wink. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"Oh, just things." She put her arm around him. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Not a bit. I guess I was just thinking about things, too."
Lola rubbed her eyes and yawned.
"If we didn't set a record last night, we never will."
"Yeah."
She realized he was in deep meditation and wondered what was on his mind that was taking such tremendous concentration.
"A penny for your thoughts, Stu."
For a moment, he said nothing. Finally, he raised up on his elbow and looked down at her.
"Do you really want to know what I'm thinking Lola?"
"Yes."
A kind of nervous excitement seemed to spread over his face.
"Well, I'm thinking that you and I ought to get married," he said seriously.
She almost swallowed her heart with his words. All through the night her woman's intuition had kept telling her that sooner or later he was going to ask her to marry him.
It had come much sooner than she had expected, but it had come.
She knew what she wanted to say, but she was filled with fear. She could never accept his proposal without first making a full confession that she was a reporter for the Independent and that her current assignment was to write a story about him. A big story.
"Did you hear what I said, Lola?" Bryant prompted. "I just asked you to marry me. Perhaps it wasn't as direct a proposal as you'd like, but it was a proposal just the same. I'm very much in love with you, Lola."
She debated very strongly accepting Stu's proposal and saying to hell with the story Sullivan wanted. Sullivan could just get somebody else to go after that silly old story.
Still, that wouldn't be fair at all because she had been working on the story quite a while now and had already received one full week's salary for doing nothing except working on the Stu Bryant story exclusively.
She looked into Bryant's eyes and knew that he was waiting anxiously for her decision.
"Do you think we know each other well enough to get married, Stu?" He took her into his arms.
"I know all about you I need to know," he returned, "and certainly you know everything there is to know about me." She was on the verge of telling him that she was a reporter, that she had purposely permitted him to make love to her in order to soft-soap information out of him. Still, she wasn't willing to take the risk of losing him.
"You are in love with me, aren't you, Lola?"
"Yes."
"Then, why are you hoi ding back?" he asked.
"I'm not holding back," she replied. "Not really. You just knocked the props out from under me, that's all. You took me by surprise."
"Yes or no, Lola. Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
Bryant pulled her lips to his and kissed her for a long while, interrupting the tight embrace once only long enough to say: "That's what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear you say yes."
Her hands were all over him, and he knew that she wanted him more than ever now.
"Please, Stu! Let's celebrate!" she pleaded, drawing her lips back away from him.
He felt her legs relax, waiting for him. He didn't keep her waiting very long, sinking down quickly. He was with her. All the way.
As he started to kiss her again, he asked: "Are you happy, Lola?"
"The happiest girl this side of heaven," she cooed, "but don't try to talk. Make it good, Stu! Make it the very best time yet!"
Somehow, the fact that he had asked her to marry him and the fact that she had accepted seemed to open up an entirely new world of their intimacy. Both of them felt a kind of relaxation they had never experienced previously.
It was the best time yet.
For both of them.
When it was over, they were both completely exhausted. Exhausted but happy.
Stu relaxed on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He had wanted to get married for a long time, but he had been truthful when he had said that he had never found the right girl. I could never find a girl who'd make a more wonderful wife than Lola Trent, he thought reassuringly. She may not be a big society doll, but she has a lot of class even if she is only a secretary. A tremendous amount of class.
He turned toward her. As she lay on her back, her nude breasts rose and fell as she breathed peacefully. She had fallen sound asleep.
The bright California sunshine was spraying into the room brilliantly now. Bryant became aware that he had another appointment at three o'clock that afternoon and that he hadn't had any sleep, but he knew he could never go to sleep no matter how hard he tried. He was too excited.
He got out of bed, lit a cigarette and walked to the window and gazed through the crack around the shades. Far below, the city was wide awake, a beehive of traffic moving up and down the street.
He returned to the edge of the bed, looked down at Lola, his eyes moving up and down her nude and exquisite body. She's all mine, he thought. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me. For the first time in a long time, the restlessness which had gnawed at him was gone. No longer was there a trace of it.
For a few minutes, he paced around the suite, walking around the bedroom and then into the big room. Lola's pajamas were strewn on the floor. He picked them up, folded them neatly and draped them over the back of a chair.
Finally, he dressed, went into the bathroom, shaved quickly and combed his hair. He put on his tie and jacket, got his overcoat and closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway.
Time passed. The clock on the bank building near the hotel struck twelve. It was high noon.
Lola listened to the striking of the clock. She rubbed her eyes sleepily. She had lost track of the time, not knowing whether it was ten or twelve. Suddenly, despite her drowsiness, it hit her. Hard. She was engaged to be married.
She jumped out of the bed.
"Stu!" There was no answer. She ran into the living room. Stu was not there. She saw her pajamas folded over the chair. "Stu!" She went into the bathroom, shrugged her shoulders.
She decided to take advantage of Stu's absence and put in a long distance call to Hiram Sullivan, thinking he would be wondering what had happened to her. She went to the telephone and placed a call, making it collect so that it wouldn't appear on the hotel statement.
She waited. Presently, she heard Sullivan's voice on the line.
"Hello, Hi."
"Well, what are you doing in San Francisco?" Sullivan wanted to know.
"Having fun... with Stuart Bryant," she replied.
"This must have come up very suddenly."
"It did. Stu called me Sunday night, and three hours later we were on the plane."
"I suppose now you are sleeping with the bastard," Sullivan said.
"You can draw all of the conclusions you want to draw, Hi," she said, "but like I told you last Thursday night, it's none of your damn business."
"Yeah, I know. How's the story coming along?"
"Fine! It's going to be a tremendous story! In fact, I'm going to have two stories!"
"Terrific, Lola!"
She detected the tone of satisfaction in his voice.
"Well, I just wanted to let you know where I am and how things are progressing, Hi. So, I'll let you go. Goodbye... " She hung up the receiver. She wondered why he hadn't asked her when she would return to New York but concluded he didn't give a damn how long she was gone as long as he got his goddamn story.
She found a cigarette on the coffee table and lit it, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs and exhaling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her breasts expanding at least two inches with the intake of air. She felt good. Wonderful!
What a thrill it was to be really in love and to be loved. It all had happened so quickly it was almost like a dream. She expected to wake up any moment and find out that it wasn't so. Still, she could remember Stu's proposal so vividly.
She went into the bedroom opened her suitcase and took out her baby dolls. She wanted to look just as sweet as possible when Stu returned, and she thought a girl could look awfully cute to a man, wearing baby dolls. She put them on, combed her hair, and applied fresh makeup.
Moments later, she heard Stu returning. She heard the door close as he entered and became very excited. During a split second of meditation, she wondered for the first time when they would actually get married. The day after they returned to New York... Thanksgiving... Christmas... It didn't matter to her really. She would do whatever Stu wanted to do.
He was standing in the bedroom doorway now, his eyes fixed on the baby dolls. The sheer baby dolls struck her just below her thighs, and he could see the reddish outline of her nipples against the whiteness of her breasts beneath the filmy material. Her bikini panties were so sheer they hid absolutely nothing, doing little more than make a man's imagination run wild. Not that he needed a great amount of imagination to know what was beneath them.
"I've got a surprise for you, baby," Stu said, walking toward her. He handed her a tiny box. "I hope you like it."
She took the box and opened it. Before her was the largest diamond she believed she had ever seen. It was set in a solid silver ring.
"Stu, it's gorgeous. I don't know what else to say."
"Well, it's for a very gorgeous girl," he said. "Nothing's too nice for the girl I love." He kissed her, his arms crushing her to him. He felt the throbbing of her body and knew she would like nothing better than for him to take her to bed again. This had to be the greatest love on earth because neither of them could get enough of each other.
He took her hand and guided her to the bed and sat down beside her on the edge of it. He inserted his hands beneath her arms.
"Now, when would you like to have the wedding?"
"Why don't you set the date, Stu?"
"No, I'm going to leave that entirely up to you," he insisted.
"Then, the quicker the better, Stu. Sunday, maybe? A week from Sunday?"
He kicked the two Sundays around in his thoughts.
"What about a week from Sunday? That will give us more time to make all of the arrangements."
"Fine." She touched his lips with hers. "If I'm dreaming, Stu, don't ever wake me up." He laughed aloud.
"Gosh, I haven't even tried on the ring yet," Lola said. Quickly, she removed it from the box and inserted it on her finger and flashed it up at him. "A perfect fit."
"You like it?"
"I love it!"
"What do you want to do tonight?" Stu asked her.
"You know damn well what I want to do tonight!" she exclaimed. Suddenly, she faced him squarely. "Stu, when did you first realize you were in love with me?"
"That Sunday morning when we woke up out in Westchester. We'd finally fallen asleep, and I'd- awakened a long time before you did. I lay there very still thinking about you and I kept telling myself, 'I like Lola Trent!'. I thought about everything we'd done together... the lunch at the bar, standing there while you sewed the button on my coat... going to bed with you for the first time... and all of the other times that Friday night and Saturday and Saturday night."
"You know, I have a confession to make to you," she said, drawing his hands up over her breasts and seeing the unmistakable lust sweep through his eyes. "You didn't lose that button. I yanked it off of your coat. I wanted to see you again very badly. So I thought about getting one of those buttons so that I could call you and tell you I'd found it."
He laughed and got up, squeezing her breasts as he rose.
"If I don't stay away from those things I'll never keep that three o'clock appointment I have today."
He walked across the bedroom and saw her suitcase and started combing through it. He picked up the leotards.
"I've never seen you in these."
"You haven't seen me in a lot of things, Stu, but you will... eventually."
He held them up like a boy with a new toy, noting the deep V neckline and the high cut legs.
"They certainly don't cover a helluva lot, do they?"
"No. Not a helluva lot. Just the things that need to be covered."
He continued to stir through the suitcase.
Lola sat there puffing on a cigarette. She was amused at him and saw his eyes shine when he picked up the two bras and the two pairs of panties she had brought along.
"These things cover a whole lot less," he was saying.
She blew a long volley of smoke in his direction.
"Only what a girl wants to cover... sometimes." She felt the engagement ring on her finger, and her heart began to do flip-flops. She was suddenly aware that she was deeply indebted to Hiram Sullivan. By giving her the assignment, he had made it possible for her to meet Stuart Bryant. And he had had foresight enough to know that before she would be able to make him look at her a second time she would have to know how to smoke and drink and otherwise make a man happy with her body.
It had all worked out to perfection.
So far.
The thought of the impending story still made her nervous, and right now she could feel a lump in her stomach as she thought about the story. Maybe she could hold off on the story until she had the wedding ring to go with that engagement ring.
The big trouble was that she had already told Sullivan she had everything she needed to write the story. If only she had given more thought to her plans before she made that telephone call to Sullivan.
She glanced over at Stu again. He was starting to unwrap the two pairs of shoes she had wrapped in back issues of the Independent.
Suddenly, he was motionless. He was clutching one of the newspapers in his hand.
Lola saw the anger spread over his face. She got up and rushed toward him.
"Stu!"
He looked at the small black line of type again in disbelief. The line magnified a hundred times and burst through his brain.
It read:
By LOLA TRENT.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Well, I'll be damned!" Bryant mumbled angrily.
Lola had reached him now and was standing in front of him.
"What's the matter, Stu? Are you all right?"
"So you're a goddamn reporter for the Independent!" he exclaimed, bitterness flooding his eyes.
She had taken hold of his arm and could see now what he saw: By LOLA TRENT.
"Stu, I can explain everything! It's a long story! Please listen to me, Stu!"
"This is one of the dirtiest tricks I've ever been involved in!" he said, almost shouting. "Everything you've done was just for a story!"
"No, Stu! No!"
He threw the paper halfway across the room and started for the bedroom door. Lola followed him.
"Stu! Don't leave!" Tears sifted from her eyes and ran down her face. "Listen to me, Stu!"
He paused at the door and turned around and faced her.
"What can you say? You are a reporter for the Independent, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Sullivan told you to get a story about me," Bryant continued. "He also must have told you that you'd have a helluva time getting it. Isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"So you decided to use your pretty little butt to get what you wanted. Isn't that pretty accurate, Lola?"
She was trying desperately to regain her composure. She picked up a cigarette and lit it and sucked the smoke far into her lungs and exhaled it.
"It's not accurate, Stu. My butt had nothing to do with it. When I entered that bar that Friday before noon, I was expecting to find a grouchy old bastard, but it didn't turn out to be that way at all. You were kind and gentle. And far-fetched though it might seem, I hadn't been around you more than thirty minutes until I knew I could fall for you hook, line, and sinker. Believe me, Stu."
"But you did ask me all of those questions for the purpose of putting them into a story, didn't you?" Bryant asked.
"Yes," Lola replied. "I have to admit that. A reporter prides herself on being able to come up with any and all assignments, and I was going to try like hell to come up with this one even though Sullivan warned me it would be the toughest one of my comparatively short career."
"And you still planned to write the story even when I proposed to you, didn't you, Lola?"
"Yes," she answered, "and I'm still going to write it, but I'm going to write it my way. Not Sullivan's way. Oh, I know how he wants it written all right, but honest to God, I wouldn't put a thing in it that would hurt or embarrass you, Stu. You ought to know that. After all, we are engaged to be married."
"I don't believe you," he snapped. "And we were engaged to be married. You're just a little tramp reporter, Lola, who'd stop at nothing to get her story. You used your body like a whore to get what you wanted, and I hope to hell you're happy now."
The word "whore" stung her. It was a terrible accusation.
"That's very unfair, Stu." She lowered her head toward the floor. She wanted to be angry at him, but there wasn't a trace of hatred in her heart toward him. No matter what he said or what he did, she knew she would always love him.
"I'm going to keep that appointment now, Lola," Bryant said, removing his wallet from his pocket. "Here's your ticket back to New York. If you call the airport, maybe they can get you on a plane tonight or even late this afternoon." He dropped the ticket on the floor when she didn't take it and turned and started toward the entrance to the suite.
"Stu!" She started to follow him, but she knew that it was no use. He hated her guts, and she knew it. She paused in the middle of the floor and watched him leave. He never looked back, stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.
She closed her eyes and sank her teeth into her lips, burst into tears and began to sob. Finally, she moved to the divan and collapsed onto it and wept almost hysterically. The room seemed so close, almost stifling, so uncomfortable now. Only a few minutes had passed since Stu had left her. And yet, it seemed like a lifetime.
Her deep sobbing withered away. Stu's words kept reflecting through her mind: 'You're just a little tramp reporter, Lola, who'd stop at nothing to get her story... You used your body like a whore to get what you wanted... Here's your ticket back to New York... If you call the airport, maybe they can get you on a plane tonight or even late this afternoon.' Obviously, she thought, he didn't want to find her in his suite when he returned. She pondered over what she was going to do. She realized she had little choice. With Stu out of the picture now, she had no business in San Francisco. She rolled around on the divan until she was facing the door and sat up.
The sparkle of the diamond which was still on her finger caught her eye. Never had she hated to part with anything like she hated to part with the diamond which Stu had given her only a couple of hours earlier. Hers would likely go down as one of the shortest engagements of all time.
She removed the ring, got up, went to the writing desk and got an envelope, slipped the ring into it and sealed it. She debated writing him a note. No, she decided, she would write nothing. If he felt the way he did, nothing she could say on paper would change his beliefs or attitude toward her.
She went into the bedroom and placed the envelope in the handle of Stu's suitcase where he was certain to find it. She stood there looking off into space, thinking how things might have turned out. The bedroom was like a morgue. There was certainly nothing gay about it now.
It did hold a lot of memories, though. That was where she became engaged, received the ring and where the engagement was broken. All in the space of a few hours.
Again, she wondered what she should do now. She didn't particularly want to go back to New York on this dreary day. If she did, she would be up all night since it was already six o'clock in New York. And she damn sure didn't want to go back on the same plane with Stu.
Finally, she decided she would get another room in the hotel, spend the night in Frisco and go back home on the first plane she could get the next afternoon. That would put her back in New York after Stu's arrival there since his reservation was for ten o'clock the next morning.
Quickly, she started packing her suitcase, putting the things which Stu had disarranged back into place. Although the ache remained in her heart, she had resigned herself to the fact that Stu Bryant was through with her. It was all over. Over scarcely before it had blossomed into full bloom. And she was anxious to get out of his suite and get settled in her new room.
An hour later, Lola was comfortably settled in another room, located ten stories above the suite occupied by Stu and on an entirely different side of the hotel. Her new room was a far cry from the elaborate suite she had shared with Stu, but it was still a very nice room.
Lola had worked the switch in rooms very easily. She merely left the hotel with her suitcase and returned after eating a sandwich and checked in as if she'd never been there previously. Not even the bellboy had recognized her, although he was the same one who had brought the whiskey to the suite the preceding day.
She had pulled a sheath on over her baby dolls for the shift in rooms and now was lounging around the room again in the baby dolls. She tried to relax in a big, upholstered chair, but it wasn't easy for her to relax. The scene with Stu had left her extremely nervous and disappointed.
Broken-hearted was a better word. It would take her a long time to get over her first shattered romance.
The story she was going to write about Bryant kept penetrating her thoughts. She wanted to get it written and thus close one of the chapters in her life. She got up, lit a cigarette, and went to the writing desk and sat down.
How would she begin the story? Ideas sifted through her mind. She discarded one after the other. After a few moments, she picked up the ballpoint pen and a sheet of paper and began to write. She paused and looked at the words on the paper... 'This is a story about the most conceited man I have ever known... Thin mist sifted from her eyes. She picked up the paper, tore it into a hundred pieces and dumped it into the wastebasket. Her mind was empty, and ideas evaded her now entirely. She wouldn't try to write the story now. She would wait until she was back home in her apartment.
She inhaled her cigarette, jumped up and went to the window and looked outside. Dusk was beginning to settle over the city. In her meditation, she was thinking that if things had turned out differently, this very moment she would be nestled in Stu's strong arms. She wondered how Stu would feel as night moved in and she was gone.
One thing was certain as far as she was concerned. She wasn't going to be able to get through this night without a few drinks. She found her suitcase and removed the bottle of whiskey she had so thoughtfully purchased while she was out for a sandwich during the switch of hotel rooms, opened it, got a glass from the dresser and poured herself a stiff drink.
She felt it burn as she took a long swallow and was aware of the burning passion which tore through her loins. She knew very well what was building up inside of her-the desire for Stu.
If not Stu, then some other man. Any man.
It was only natural that a lonely girl in a hotel room far away from home would want a man.
She continued to drink, thinking she just might throw a helluva drunk and bury her sorrows in liquor. She could feel her breasts stirring to life, and she moved over to the mirror, ran her hands up under the baby dolls and squeezed them hard. Her imagination was running wild. She was getting the same amorous feeling that always swept over her when Stu had touched them. When he had caressed and squeezed them.
Something had to be done about that ache which was stifling her body.
Without delay.
She removed the baby dolls, first the sheer jacket and then the flimsy panties and looked at herself in the mirror. She kicked off her high heels and took a quick shower, returned to the mirror and stood there admiring her body. If Stu doesn't want it, she thought, plenty of men do! She wasn't going to spend the night looking at four walls and chain-smoking and getting drunk by herself and brooding because Stu Bryant had told her to go to hell.
Not on your life. The bars were filled with men looking for a good roll in the hay. She had gotten a man that way once, and she was going to get another one.
She removed her most seductive sheath from the closet and squirmed into it. It was black crepe with tiny shoulder straps, no sleeves, and exposed as much of her breasts as she dared expose in public.
She wore no slip, no bra, no panties. And no nylons. Just the eye-catching sheath and spike heels.
She applied a heavy coat of lipstick and darkened her eyelids, eyelashes, and eyebrows with mascara. She put on long earrings.
Loyalty to Stu? To hell with it. There was no reason now. He probably was locked in the arms of some bistro babe himself right now.
She got her coat and left the room, took the elevator to the lobby. Men sitting in the lobby stared at her. Except for the fact she would run the risk of bumping into Stu which she didn't want to do, she knew she could sit down in the lobby, cross her legs for a few minutes and be back on the elevator headed for her room in a matter of minutes. With a man.
She went out into the night and looked for a bar. It didn't take her long to find one. She turned into the first one she saw, located only three blocks from the hotel. The bar was lined with men of all appearances and nationalities. As if they were watching a tennis match, their eyes shifted to her and followed her every move until she was quietly seated in a booth far from the bar's entrance.
On second thought, she got up and removed her coat and hung it up on the coat rack near her and sat back down. She crossed her legs recklessly, giving the sheath a slight tug until she knew her knees and the rise of her thigh were well exposed.
Only seconds passed before she saw a shadow approaching her.
"What'll you have, doll?"
Lola lifted her eyes upward. A girl with long, black hair and plucked eyebrows stood before her.
"Make it Scotch... on the rocks."
After the waitress left, Lola took out a cigarette, inserted it between her bright red lips. She fumbled for a match, but she didn't need it. A steady hand of a man extended a lighter to the tip of the cigarette, and she puffed hard to light it. She looked up to find a young sailor in a freshly pressed uniform standing beside her.
"Thank you," she said.
"Scoot over, gorgeous," the sailor said boldly.
She sat there looking up at him. She doubted he was a day over nineteen. He was clean cut and extremely neat appearing with bright blue eyes and black hair. He was tall and lean but very muscular.
"Why not?" she cooed, unfolding her legs and pushing herself to the opposite side of the bench almost to the wall.
The sailor slid in beside her.
The waitress returned with Lola's drink. Before Lola had a chance to get out the money, the sailor shoved a dollar bill into the brunette's hand and said: "Keep the change."
The sailor immediately turned all of his attention on Lola, his eyes raking the smooth flesh which spilled high above the neckline of the sheath.
"Now where were we when we were interrupted, gorgeous?"
"You were sitting down." Lola laughed.
"That's right, and the name's Bill Smith," he said by way of introduction. He thought she looked as if she doubted it and added, "There's a million Bill Smiths, and I'm one of them."
"Well, there's not so many Lola Trents around, but that's my name." She grinned.
"Glad to meet you, Lola," Bill said, putting his arm up on the back of the booth and touching the back of her neck. "Sailors are known as pretty fast guys, so let's get right down to brass tacks. You've got something I want, and you want a little green stuff. Now, how much?"
"Sailor," she replied, "this just happens to be your lucky night. Everything's on the house: A nice hotel room, booze, and me. Tonight I'm making my contribution to a member of Uncle Sam's Navy."
He looked at her as if he thought she was nuts. "You mean you give reduced rates to sailors?"
"I'm offering it to you gratis," Lola explained. "Absolutely free. I'm not a whore. I just happen to want a man, and you just happen to be the lucky guy. Shall we go to my room where you can pursue what you want and I can pursue what I want, Bill?"
He didn't believe his ears, but he sure as hell wasn't going to argue with a lady. Not under these circumstances. He jumped up, got her coat and held it for her. He escorted her from the bar, and within minutes, they were inside Lola's room.
Within seconds, Lola found out there was nothing bashful about the Navy. No sooner had they arrived in the room than Bill Smith took off his coat, removed hers and then swept her into his arms and kissed her. He put everything he had into that kiss and felt her begging lips respond quickly and cry out for more.
While he kissed her, his hand grasped the zipper at the back of her sheath and pulled it down. Automatically, he released her in his anxiety to see if all of the merchandise beneath the top of that sheath was the real thing.
The front of the sheath lunged forward, and her nude breasts sprung into view. They were the real thing all right, perfect cones of hot flesh, the nipples standing out like a pair of rosy-ringed sentinels.
Bill started to touch them and drew back. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for?" Lola laughed. "You know what they are, and they're not going to bite you!"
He moved into them, his hands coming up gently from beneath them and then cupping them and squeezing lightly.
She let out a throaty sound, ecstasy bursting through her and fanning her desire to see what a young sailor looked like. She was standing there with the sheath peeled down to her hips. She extended her lips toward him. "Cigarette me, sailor." Bill pulled out a cigarette, lit it and inserted it between her red, rounded lips.
"Here goes, sailor!" She took off his uniform and his undershirt, his shoes, and socks. Seductively, she said, "Now, wouldn't you like to see what the rest of me looks like, Bill?"
He answered with his hands, lifting the sheath over her head and off. He drew back away from her, the expression on his face telling her that already he'd gotten more than his money's worth even if she wound up telling him the night was going to cost him a hundred bucks. "You like?" Lola asked. "To put it mildly," he replied, staring at her in disbelief. Quickly, he pulled her to him, bringing her hard breasts deep into his chest, and kissed her.
She pushed him back and caught hold of his briefs, sent them tumbling down his legs.
"My God!" she gasped. "Now I know what a wild stallion looks like!" She stepped into the curves of his body and collapsed into his arms. "Give it to me, sailor! Give it to me good!"
He picked her up, his knees buckling slightly beneath him, and wondered whether he could make it to the bed with her. He heard her spike heels hit the floor as they reached the bed. Gently, he eased her down onto the bed.
Without giving him time to catch his breath, Lola pulled him to her, sinking her long fingernails into his back.
"Now, sailor!"
He didn't hesitate, plunging into her with one deadly accurate thrust.
Her hips became pistons, her arms a noose, her legs a vise, her breasts the targets of Bill Smith's hot lips. She let out a gasp and then screamed as the volcano erupted. Suddenly, they were still, buried in each other's arms, the young sailor's head between her breasts. The last signs of flickering passion faded from her body.
Moments passed before she felt him leave her. She caught one brief glimpse of his face and knew that he was as weak as a newborn baby. And to her, his face seemed so very young even though his body had responded with the fury of a man.
As he lay beside her in silence, Lola became engulfed in deep meditation. For the first time in her life, she felt cheap. Really cheap. She wondered how low a woman could get, going out on the street begging for sex. Sex with a man she had never seen previously.
And undoubtedly would never see again. By this time tomorrow, she and Bill Smith would be separated by hundreds of miles.
She thought of Stu Bryant. Damn him, anyway! She knew she still was in love with him. Violently in love with him. Undoubtedly, deep down inside, she had sought a measure of revenge when she had gone to the bar as an easy pickup. She had done it to spite Stu Bryant.
Now she was disgusted with herself. She looked over at Bill's innocent face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't asleep. No young sailor was going to go to sleep with a beautiful and sexy blonde laying naked beside him.
Bill's eyes opened. He reached over to her and turned her face toward him.
"I know now what they mean when they call a woman a blonde bombshell," he said. "I feel like... well, I don't know how I feel, but you're the best hunk of woman this sailor's ever managed to get into bed. Baby, you've got it in capital letters!"
She couldn't keep from laughing and feeling very proud even though the thought of her having taken to the streets as an easy lay still was revolting to her.
"I think you'd better dress and leave, Bill."
"Lola!" he said, surprised. "The night's still young, and in the Navy, a sailor always goes for seconds."
The memory of Stu Bryant still gnawed at her.
"Well, there's not going to be any seconds on this ship tonight. The fun's all over. You're a real nice guy, but I'm sorry... no seconds."
He looked at her and knew that she wasn't joking. Undoubtedly, Lola Trent was just a girl with hot pants and now that she'd been thoroughly satisfied, she had had enough for one night.
Lola watched him climb from the bed, a wave of disappointment ringing his face. Bill Smith not only was a nice guy but a perfect gentleman.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lola Trent was glad to be home. She had arrived at the airport just before four o'clock that morning, caught a cab to her apartment, went straight to bed and had had eight full hours of glorious sleep.
It was now three-thirty in the afternoon. Thursday afternoon. Lola was determined that before she went to bed again she was going to write her story about Stu Bryant. She wanted to get it over with and do everything possible to get Stu out of her mind, something she couldn't do until the story was signed, sealed, and delivered to Hiram Sullivan.
And even then, it wasn't going to be easy to forget Stu. Except for brief periods when she thought of the deplorable incident with Bill Smith, she hadn't been able to erase Stu from her mind throughout the long jet ride from San Francisco to New York. Nor during the cab ride home. He even haunted her in her dreams while she slept.
And he was haunting her now as she sat in a chair facing her typewriter thinking about the story's beginning. She always had difficulty with the beginning of a story. Once she perfected that, the rest came easy.
She looked at the words on the paper... Poor little rich guy-that's Stuart Bryant, the young stockbroker. She shook her head. No, it wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. She yanked the paper from the typewriter and tossed it into the waste-basket beside her. Words and ideas evaded her.
She got up and began to pace the floor. She was practically nude, wearing only a pair of fire engine red lace panties that were nothing more than a band of lace with a lined triangle in front and a matching bra with the centers of the cups cut out, permitting only the tips of her breasts to peek through. The daring French set was the only wearing apparel she had purchased in San Francisco.
She picked up a cigarette and lit it. Bryant's final words kept stabbing into her thoughts: 'You used your body like a whore to get what you wanted... You're just a little tramp reporter, Lola, who'd stop at nothing to get her story.'
Perhaps Stu was right. Certainly she'd acted like a whore Tuesday night when she'd picked Bill Smith up in a bar and taken him to her hotel room to let him make love to her.
The telephone rang, breaking her meditation. She picked up the phone, hoping with all her heart that it would be Stu and that he would have changed his mind about her.
"Hello."
"Lola... Hi Sullivan."
She was swayed by the disappointment which sifted through her. "Oh, hello, Hi."
"Bryant just left my office," Sullivan said, his voice filled with anger. "So?"
"He really raised holy hell," Sullivan continued. "Threatened to sue the paper if we printed one line about him. Of course, he can't do that just because of a story alone, but you've got to be pretty damn careful what you write. I think I'd better drop by and we'lltalk it over."
"All right. When?"
"I'll leave the office about five-thirty and get there about six if that's all right."
"That'll be fine," Lola agreed. "I'll see you about six."
"Right. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
She put down the receiver and stood there looking off into space. So Stu's still boiling, she thought. Well, she might just as well face the fact that it was all over as far as she and Stu were concerned. She had hoped he would reconsider and cool off with the passing of a couple of days but apparently not. One thing was certain which she had not discovered earlier, he was a stubborn man.
She couldn't write the story now. She would have to wait until she had talked with Sullivan. There was no use writing a lot of words and then have to do it all over again. She felt hungry and thirsty and went into the kitchen, poured herself a martini and began to sip it. The cold gin knifed through her bloodstream.
She thought about eating again. It was much too late in the afternoon for lunch and much too early for dinner. She decided to wait until Sullivan arrived and see what developed with him. She finished the martini and returned to the living room.
She was restless. She thought about Bill Smith. He was a nice guy. And he had been wonderful in bed. So young and eager. The last thing he did before he left her room was to take her nude body into his arms, tell her she was the best bedmate he'd ever encountered, and kissed her.
Lola had accompanied him to the door. He had been so good she was almost reluctant to let him go at the last moment, but the manner in which she had met him still disgusted her as they engaged in a final, parting kiss and she didn't change her mind despite the hungry look of desire in his eyes.
Silently, Lola was trying to take inventory of herself. In the short span of little more than two weeks, she had become an entirely different girl. It was as if she had stepped from one world into another. She liked to smoke cigarettes and to drink, and she knew she could never go more than forty-eight hours without sex. If that long. She liked to flaunt her charms in front of men. She liked to watch the expression in men's eyes when they looked at her legs and the sharp protrusion of her breasts.
The buzzer at the door sounded. Lola looked at her watch and was unable to believe that it was almost six o'clock. The buzzer rang again. She started toward the door, stopped. She looked down at herself. Her nipples were staring up at her, oozing through the cut-outs in the bra, and the French panties she was wearing was much too skimpy to greet a man in broad daylight even if Hiram Sullivan had seen her in much less a couple of times. After all, she wanted to leave something to a man's imagination and she sure as hell wouldn't be doing it if she answered the door in what she was wearing.
She rushed into the bedroom and got a floor-length black robe and slipped into it and went to the door. She opened it and Sullivan stood before her.
"Hello, Hi. Come in."
"Hi, Lola," he said, then stepped inside, looked around.
"Sit down and make yourself at home."
He eyed the divan, crossed the room and sank down into the soft divan.
"Can I get you a drink, Hi?"
"You know me, Lola," Sullivan returned. "I never refuse a drink, especially right after I leave that damn office."
She turned toward the kitchen, realizing that Sullivan's eyes were following her every step of the way.
He watched the sway of her hips until she was out of sight.
When she returned, she was carrying two martinis. She handed one to him and sat down on the divan beside him. The robe parted down the front as she sat down and offered a brief glimpse of her legs and her flat belly.
"So Stu Bryant really raised hell, did he?" Lola asked.
"Yes." Sullivan sipped his drink. "When I first gave you this assignment, I wanted to make it just as nasty as possible, to bring out all of the bitterness in Bryant's life. After today, though, I think you'd better tone it down some. Tell everything, but be nice about it."
"I understand," Lola said. "I'll be extremely careful." She reached across Sullivan's lap to the opposite end of the coffee table for a cigarette. "Just what did Bryant say, Hi?"
The robe fell away from her legs as she reached, and Sullivan got a good view this time of her hips and thighs tapering off into the red panties. He noted that she made no effort to cover herself while she was lighting the cigarette.
"He accused me of sending a nymphomaniac around to get the story."
"Me? A nymphomaniac?"
"That's what he called you," Sullivan said. She laughed aloud.
"That calls for another drink." She got up and went into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a pitcher of martinis. She refilled Sullivan's glass and then her own and sat down beside him again. "Well, Bryant isn't exactly frigid himself."
Sullivan felt the cold gin affecting him, fanning his desire for her. He put his hand into the soft flesh above her knee and on the inside of her leg and gripped it.
"He said you pretended to be in love with him."
Lola let her head rest against the back of the divan and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. She didn't know exactly how much Stu had told Sullivan, and she wasn't going to give him any information voluntarily.
"Men always think women are in love with them."
He scarcely heard her voice. His mind and his eyes were too busy concentrating now on the contours of her breasts which rose as two giant peaks toward the ceiling as her head continued to relax against the back of the divan. He moved his hand higher. Much higher.
"Bryant did pay one very nice compliment to you, though, Lola," Sullivan said, the gin really seizing him now. "He said you were amazing in bed. Of course, I didn't tell him that I already knew that from my own experience."
Soft moans escaped from her passionate lips. She quickly concluded she wasn't going to let Sullivan leave until he put out the fire which had built up in her. The liquor was raising hell inside of her, and Sullivan's hand had become pure torture to her brain.
He set down his empty martini glass and inserted his arm beneath her shoulders. He stared into her eyes, wondering whether she was merely letting him get all worked up and then was going to slam the door in his face as she had done in his office only a week earlier. His lips were only inches from hers.
"Kiss me, Hi!" she said excitedly, unfastening the top of the robe and drawing it back until he could view the novel bra she was wearing. He sank his lips into hers, felt her tongue become a blaze of fire in his mouth and her hands become daggers in his back.
The intensity of the kiss electrified her. She became a twisting, writhing mass of flesh in his arms. She thrust her head back even farther and tore her lips loose from him. "Take off your clothes, Hi!" During the split second that followed, he wondered whether she was going to let him go all the way or was just baiting him to the hilt before rejecting him.
"Hurry up, dammit!" she snapped. "Take off your clothes!"
Well, he would soon find out whether she was teasing him or not. He slid from the divan and in a matter of seconds was down to his briefs. He unsnapped the briefs, let them fall and stepped out of them.
Lola had squirmed out of her robe. "I'll leave the rest to you," she said. He stared down at her. Her jutting nipples had become so swollen the cut-outs in the bra were on the verge of bursting. Except for the bra, she was wearing only those very skimpy panties.
"That won't be difficult." He laughed. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, her voice keyed with urgency.
"I haven't forgotten what happened a week ago," he reminded her.
"Forget last week!" she urged. He was willing. He figured if she was able to stop now, she was a damn good actress. He reached for her panties and realized that she was helping him as she arched her back and raised her buttocks from the divan. He pulled them off and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her, and his hand fumbled with the bra, searching for the hook. When he found it, he unhooked the bra and peeled it away from her flawless, throbbing breasts. They were both nude now. Almost instantly, she wound her arms around him, her long, red fingernails raking his back, and began to shower tiny kisses over his chest and shoulders, and he could feel the hardness of her nipples scraping against him. He didn't know whether she had become a nymphomaniac or not, but she was one helluva passionate young woman. All a man had to do was touch her and she sizzled.
And he was touching her now. And, brother, was she sizzling. She locked her teeth into his shoulder and imbedded her nails into his back and let out a light scream. "Do it, Hi! Do it now!"
He started to pick her up, but she rolled from the divan onto the floor, pulling him down with her. They were a tangled mass of arms and legs but not for long.
She straightened out beneath him and wound her legs around his body, and he found the softness of her and buried himself in the greatest paradise he had ever known. Or ever expected to know.
He knew now if not earlier that she had never entertained a . thought of leading him on and then rejecting him.
He took her there on the floor, her body rippling with strength and counteracting his assault with amazing finesse. They reached one peak after another until they were at the top and primed for the final jolting blast of satisfaction. It came.
Lola cried out, and Sullivan gasped during the sudden impact of fulfillment.
How well he knew now that this was no joke. This was the real thing. Lola had wanted him, and he was satisfied that she got what she wanted. All that she wanted.
For the moment at least.
Time passed. Silent time. The room was very still, and even their breathing had subsided. They lay side by side toward one another with their eyes closed, but neither of them was asleep.
"Lola... " Sullivan's voice drowned out the silence first.
"Yes?" Lola opened her eyes.
"Why did you turn me down a week ago, but tonight...?"
Immediately, she thought of Bryant, his demand for loyalty in a woman.
"I don't know," she answered. "I guess I just wasn't in the mood a week ago."
He smiled, realizing that wasn't the reason but willing to accept it. He was thinking very seriously now of asking her to marry him. He had never proposed to a girl. Until now, he had never really thought of a girl as a prospective wife, but he knew that Lola was exactly the kind of a girl he wanted. There was a considerable difference in their ages, but that didn't matter. Not to him.
He decided to wait. He would see first how she reacted to his invitation to go out with him, to date him a few times.
"Lola, I've been invited to a party Saturday night by one of our best advertisers. Would you like to go with me?"
"Why, yes, I'd love to go with you, Hi," she replied. "What kind of a party is it? What should I wear?"
"I strongly suspect it'll be a rather wild party and probably will last most of the night if I know our host, and I know him pretty well. I don't know who he's invited or how many will be there, but he told me to bring a girl along. Everybody will likely get roaring drunk. This guy and his wife mingle in high society. I really don't give a damn about going, but I feel I ought to go for business reasons."
"Sure, you should go," Lola insisted. "It'll give you a good chance to relax from that office for a change."
"Okay, it's a date. As for what you should wear, just put on your best clothes."
Lola became uncomfortable, the floor seeming hard now despite the rug.
"Why don't we go into the bedroom? The bed would be much more comfortable. Come on."
He wasn't going to argue with that. Where else should a guy be with a beautiful girl except in bed? The question needed no answer. He took her hand and helped her up.
She picked up the cigarettes, the pitcher of martinis, and the glasses from the coffee table and followed him into the bedroom. She thought he was a very well-developed man and not bad looking. He didn't compare with Stu, but she realized that nobody would compare with Stu in her mind.
She couldn't get Stu out of her mind. Even when she and Sullivan were at the height of passion, she was thinking of Stu. She was imagining that he was with her, that it was Stu who was kissing her, that Stu was caressing her breasts.
Sullivan sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Would you care for another martini, Hi?"
"I might," he replied. "Yes, I would."
She poured the martinis, handed one to him and sat down on the bed beside him. She was thinking about the party Saturday night now.
"Does this man who's giving the party have an elaborate home? I mean, really elaborate."
"It has eleven bedrooms. Does that answer your question?"
"It certainly does," she gasped, thinking it would be even much larger than Stu's mansion.
Sullivan took her hand in his.
"Lola, when can you have that story ready?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, late tomorrow afternoon."
"Good! If you can get it to the office before I leave, we'll run it Sunday." He felt her arm circle his body. "Maybe you want to go to work on it tonight."
She nodded her head.
"I'll get up early in the morning and sink my teeth into it. I'll see that you have it before you leave the office. Right now, I have other plans for tonight. For this very moment, in fact."
Sullivan knew what she meant. Again, he had no thought of arguing with her. Even if he had wanted to, he didn't have a chance because she had taken his martini and set it down and was maneuvering him around on the bed.
He knew exactly what she had planned for this very moment.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A heavy snow was falling Saturday night. In fact, snow had fallen most of the day, and the sprawling hillside where Benjamin Sanderson lived was a mass of whiteness.
It was nine o'clock, the hour Sanderson's party was scheduled to begin. Lola clung tightly to Sullivan's arm as he rang the bell. She felt extremely nervous. She had never had a taste of high society and to make matters worse, she was going to a party where she knew she would be seeing people she had never seen previously. Except for Hi Sullivan.
A tall, stately man in a black suit answered the door, obviously the butler.
"Come in, folks. Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson are waiting for you."
Sullivan escorted Lola inside. The Sandersons were waiting in the large, luxurious drawing room.
"Good evening, Hi," Sanderson said, moving over with his wife to shake hands. "I'm glad you made it." He was a big man, about forty-five. "Hi, you know Ethel."
"Yes," Sullivan replied as he and Mrs. Sanderson nodded. He introduced Lola. "Are we early or is everybody else late?"
"Everybody else is late, it seems," the Sandersons said almost in unison.
"We're very informal, Hi... and, Lola," Sanderson said. "The bar's over there." His attention was attracted to the couple who had just arrived. "Just drop over there and get whatever you want," he added, facing Sullivan and Lola again.
"Thank you." Sullivan and Lola went to the bar.
While Sullivan was mixing two drinks, Lola turned around and observed Ethel Sanderson. She had tawny blonde hair and a beautiful face and figure and appeared at least ten to fifteen years younger than her husband. She was wearing a black-over-nude sheath that made her appear almost naked. The sheath had a low plunge neck that bared almost half of her high, pointed breasts, the wide shoulder straps forming a V between them. It was cut slightly above her knees and the hem was trimmed in black marabou.
Lola took her drink and was mentally comparing Mrs. Sanderson's dress with her own. Her rayon jersey sheath was royal blue and fit her snugly. It had narrow rhinestone straps over the shoulders and had two built-in cups for her breasts, the upper third of which were exposed.
Couples were arriving rapidly now. So fast that neither Lola nor Sullivan could keep track of them.
The bar quickly became the busiest spot in the house.
"That was a terrific story you wrote about Bryant, Lola," Sullivan was telling her.
She barely heard what he said above the noisy crowd.
"Thank you. I'm glad you liked it." She was mentally trying to count the couples... five... six... seven... eight...
Suddenly, she was motionless. Her eyes were resting on one couple, and she was blind to all of the others.
The man was Stuart Bryant.
A cold chill ran down her back. It can't be, she thought. Still, the- man was Stuart Bryant all right. In the flesh. Lola was stunned. She wasn't even aware of the dazzling brunette who had accompanied him.
She caught Sullivan's arm.
"Do you see who I see, Hi?"
Sullivan looked around, taking a rapid inventory of the people milling around the room.
"Who do you see?"
"Bryant."
"No!"
"Yes," Lola said.
Then Sullivan, following the line of Lola's eyes, saw Bryant standing far across the big room talking to another couple.
"Yeah, that's Bryant all right."
"Do you think we ought to ease out of here?" she asked.
"Are you kidding, Lola?" Sullivan snapped. "Hell, no! We're not going anywhere."
Now Lola was sizing up the stunning brunette who had her arm wound through Bryant's. The girl was rather tall and willowy appearing. Long earrings dangled from her ears. She was smoking a cigarette through a long jeweled holder. Her very dark brown hair was fashioned into a French twist. From such a distance, Lola could see very little of her dress but enough of it to know that Bryant wouldn't be disappointed if he got his hand into the horseshoe collar neck.
A trace of jealousy ground through Lola's mind. "I need a refill, Hi," she said, thrusting her glass in his direction.
He got her another drink.
"This is your fourth Scotch on the rocks, cutie. You'd better watch your stuff."
She tilted the glass to her lips.
"You said everybody would probably get roaring drunk, didn't you? Well, that's exactly what I intend to do. The quicker the better."
Sullivan laughed.
Sanderson rapped a knife against a glass in an effort to quiet everyone down. A hush fell over the room. Lola looked in Bryant's direction again and saw him and his date heading toward the bar.
"Here comes Bryant," she whispered to Sullivan.
"Let him come," Sullivan whispered back. "He's going to find out we're here sooner or later."
"All of the ten couples, including Ethel and myself, are here," Sanderson said. "Some of the girls who're here I'm not acquainted with, but I hope all of you will join the spirit of the fun we've planned here tonight. Anybody who doesn't join in is a party-pooper! There's plenty of liquor, and let's have fun!" He turned to one of the men at his right. "Art, you bring in the wheel."
As Sanderson finished, Bryant spun around and almost bumped headlong into Lola and Sullivan. He drew back, wondering if he was seeing a mirage.
"Hello, Bryant," Sullivan said.
"The distinguished city editor of the city's filthiest rag, I believe!" Bryant shot back. "Mr. Sullivan and his little-shall we say harlot?" he added, his eyes coming face to face with Lola.
Lola's heart sank. She saw the bitter hatred in Bryant's eyes.
Bryant and his girl friend started to move on.
"I'd introduce you, Jean, but I never introduce a lady to scum!"
Anger blazed through Sullivan's eyes. Only the fact that he was attending the party of one of the Independent's biggest advertisers kept him from knocking Bryant's block off right then and there. Instead, he said over his shoulder: "You can read about some scum in the morning edition of the Independent! The story will be there! Every damn word of it!"
"It better not, Sullivan!" Bryant fired back in a low, bitter voice. "That's a warning!" With that, he and Jean made their way to the bar.
Sanderson's voice broke up the noise again. "All of the girls will gather around this wheel in a circle," he said. "If you haven't played this game before, this is the way it goes. Art will spin the wheel like this." He gave the wheel a shove. "When it stops, the girl in front of the big arrow removes one piece of clothing. All of the men will take a number from this box. Whoever draws number one gets the first girl to lose all of her clothes." Everyone broke into an uproar. Sanderson raised his hand. "The bedrooms are scattered all over the house. Take your choice, and you can stay all night and all day tomorrow if you like. Only one other thing. Nobody sleeps with his own wife or his own girl friend. If a man draws his own girl-well it's never happened. We'll face that problem if it does. Remember, there's plenty of booze and have fun!"
Lola was staring at Sullivan.
"Did you know it was going to be this kind of a party, Hi?" Her voice was unsteady.
"I told you it would be a wild one. Are you game?"
"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to be a party pooper!" she replied. "Wouldn't it be a mess if I wound up with Bryant or you ended up with Bryant's girl?"
"I'll say it would."
All of the men drew numbers. The ten girls gathered around the big wheel.
"Start spinning the wheel, Art!" Sanderson shouted.
The men formed another circle all the way around the circle of girls, each one silently appraising the ring of girls trying to decide on the one he was going to try to get.
The wheel stopped. The arrow was pointed directly at Jean, the brunette who accompanied Bryant to the party. Everyone laughed. Jean removed the spike heel shoe on her left foot.
Sullivan looked at his number... number four. He looked around the circle of girls. He would like nothing better than to take Lola to bed for the night, but under the rules that was out of the question. Finally, he started pulling for a luscious looking redhead, who at the moment was in the process of removing her dress.
The arrow stopped directly on Lola. She pulled up her dress and rolled one stocking down her leg and inserted it into one of her shoes.
Dense smoke filled the room. Sanderson kept making the rounds, carrying a tray of drinks and passing them among the girls. The men whistled loudly every time a girl's dress came off. Bryant had number nine and felt he was safe as far as getting stuck with Lola was concerned. If he knew Lola, she wasn't wearing a damn thing beneath that sheath and she was almost certain to go out of the game pretty quickly.
The girls were all in various stages of undress now. More than half of them were down to their bras and panties.
The arrow stopped this time in front of Betty, a married gal with mouse-colored hair. All eyes were upon her. She reached for her bra and yanked it off, and her melon-like breasts popped into view.
"One more stop and off you go to bed, Betty!" Sanderson yelled. "And I've got number one!"
Twenty minutes later, only four girls and four men remained. The girls were Lola, who not only had fooled Bryant by wearing a bra and panties but also a half-slip; Ethel Sanderson, who was wearing only her panties; Vicki, a peroxide blonde who had stunned everybody by removing her panties ahead of her bra, and Jean, Bryant's girl who had just removed her sheath.
Lola stood there in bra and panties wondering when the arrow was going to stop in front of her again. She knew she had never been as drunk as she was right now. She looked over at Bryant and saw the sarcasm on his face.
The wheel went around, and the arrow stopped in front of Vicki. She peeled off her bra and disappeared with the man holding number seven. Three straight times the arrow stopped in front of Jean, and she was nude. Bryant watched her leave with Art, who said over his shoulder: "Somebody else will have to spin the wheel now."
Jean turned around and threw a parting kiss to Bryant, who merely smiled back at her.
Only two girls were left, Lola and Vicki, the peroxide blonde. Lola still wore her panties and bra. Vicki had only her bra covering her nudity.
Bryant looked over at the only other man remaining, a man he knew only as Scotty.
"You want to spin it, Scotty?"
"Sure," Scotty replied. He staggered out to the wheel. "This may take all night there's so much space left between the girls." He looked first at Vicki and then at Lola. "It'd be worth it to wait all night for either one of these dolls." He laughed drunkenly and spun the wheel. It didn't stop in front of either girl.
Bryant knew he was going to be the next to leave and Scotty would get the girl who was left. He looked over at Vicki. She stood about five-eight, had long legs, wide hips and a narrow waist. Her black bra strained with the weight of her huge breasts.
He pondered over the thought that he might draw Lola, and the thought nauseated him.
"Another round of liquor for everyone, Bryant!" Scotty shouted.
Bryant walked toward the bar, his body weaving as he moved.
Scotty kept spinning the wheel but was getting nowhere. The arrow stopped only at blank space.
Lola lit a fresh cigarette. She toyed with the idea that she might go to bed with Bryant. The thought stimulated her. If she could get Bryant in bed just one more time, perhaps she could soothe the resentment he had for her. Perhaps. She had caught his eye a hundred times while they were playing the game, and each time he had turned his head.
Bryant returned with the drinks, handed one to Vicki and one to Scotty. Now he walked up beside Lola.
She was thrilled by his nearness, lust shooting through her body. No matter how he acted or how he felt, she knew that she was still very much in love with him.
Bryant handed her the drink, turned and walked away, stopping halfway around the room from her.
Scotty spun the wheel again. This time it rolled dead with the arrow pointing directly at Lola.
"That one's for little Lola!" she beamed.
"Take off your panties!" Vicki screamed.
"Not this girl!" Lola countered. "Lola saves the good part until the last!"
Scotty was all eyes. It had seemed like hours since he had seen a woman's tits. He really didn't care which one of the girls he drew as long as something happened. And happened soon.
Bryant was completely unconcerned by the fact that Lola was losing her next to last garment. He was wishing that the arrow had stopped in front of Vicki so that he could take her off to bed and get some action.
Lola peeled away her bra, her big, pointed breasts sweeping into view.
"Why, you don't even need to wear a bra!" Vicki shouted, her eyes fixed on Lola. "Those damn things stick straight out!"
Scotty spun the wheel five more times, and each time it was to no avail.
Lola was excited now. That familiar ache was racing through her loins like a freight train out of control. She wanted action... Bryant, Scotty, any man. A tingling sensation shot through her as the arrow came within inches of stopping in front of her again.
Bryant's face turned red. Only a few inches had separated him from going to bed with Lola.
Scotty was breathing hard. He started to spin the wheel again, hesitated.
"I'll tell you what we're gonna do. I'm gonna spin this damn wheel one more time. When it stops, the girl closest to the arrow is gonna take it off!"
"Good!" Vicki shouted. "This girl is ready to dig her heels into a nice soft mattress!"
Bryant nodded agreement.
"That suits me!" Lola yelled.
"Here goes!" Scotty screamed. He spun the wheel and closed his eyes.
The wheel went around and around, slowed down. Stopped.
"That's me!" Lola shouted.
Scotty opened his eyes.
Lola raised one leg and drew it through her panties and then the other and she was nude.
"You lucky bastard, Bryant!" Scotty said.
"Well, I like that remark!" Vicki snapped. "Oh, well, what the hell do I care as long as I got a man." She yanked her bra off and displayed what undoubtedly were the biggest breasts in the house.
Bryant bit his lip, slowly started walking toward Lola.
Lola saw him coming. She saw the disappointment on his face.
Scotty and Vicki wasted no time heading for one of the vacant bedrooms.
Lola and Bryant were all alone now, and he paused close to her.
"It's a very small world, isn't it, Stu?"
"Too damn small," he snickered. "You should feel right at home at a party like this."
Her face reddened with anger. She put her hands on her hips.
"I'll have you know this is the first party like this I've ever attended, and it likely will be the last! It took a helluva lot of liquor to get me to participate in this wholesale sex orgy!" She tried to analyze the reaction in his face. "If this is high society, I want no part of it!"
Without saying a word, he went to a nearby chair, picked up Lola's clothes and tossed them over her shoulder.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Get dressed," he said.
"What the hell do you mean, 'get dressed'?" she snapped. "I'm going to bed. With you. Remember the rules."
"I don't give a damn about rules, Lola!" he retorted sharply. "Get your clothes on! You're going home!"
"But... "
"No buts about it!" he snarled. "Do you want it straight, Lola?" He lifted his eyes until he faced her squarely. "I wouldn't go to bed with you if you were the last girl on earth! Now get dressed!"
Even before he had finished talking, soft tears sifted from her eyes. If it had been anyone else, she would have told him to go to hell, but for Stu, she was going to do as he said. Slowly, she started to dress.
Bryant angled across the room, stopping by the telephone.
Lola's eyes followed him. Suddenly, she felt good. Undoubtedly, Stu was planning to take her home. That would be even better than going to bed with him. It would give her a chance to talk with him, to try to convince him that she really was madly in love with him.
Bryant picked up the telephone, dialed a number.
Lola listened.
"Send a cab to the residence of Benjamin Sanderson right away," Bryant said. "You know, the big house on the hill just south of the Westport city limits." He waited. "That's right. The girl's name is Lola Trent. She'll be waiting. Take her home to Manhattan."
Lola bit her lip. Pain replaced the ache in her body. She stood there while Stu put down the receiver. He was coming toward her now, removing a bill from his wallet.
Bryant dropped the bill into the chair in front of her. "The cab will pick you up in a few minutes. There's a twenty-dollar bill for the tab."
She grabbed hold of his arm as he passed by her. "Stu! What are you going to do, Stu?"
"I'm going upstairs and go to bed," he answered. "Alone!"
"No, Stu!" she pleaded. "Take me with you! I want to be with you! Can't you see the odds were tremendous against you and I drawing each other in the game tonight and despite the odds, we did. It has to be a good sign!"
He said nothing, merely pulled away from her and disappeared.
Lola was all alone now. Full-blown tears rolled out of her eyes. She went to the bar, picked up a half-empty bottle of whiskey and tilted it to her lips. She took a long gulp, swallowed hard several times. Each swallow seared her throat and crashed into her belly.
She heard the sound of the cab's horn blaring through the snowy night outside. She took one last drink, put the bottle down and staggered to the hallway, found her coat and went out into the blustery night.
Only her deep sobs and the sound of the horn penetrated the stillness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The bedroom was very still. Bright sunshine had broken through the skies in the late afternoon and was trickling in around the edges of the shades. A narrow splash of sunshine spilled across Lola's face as she lay nude in bed.
She began to stir. Her eyes opened and were greeted by the bright ray of sunshine. She covered her eyes with her arm. She wondered how long she had slept. She ran her hand over her forehead. She had arrived home at four o'clock that Sunday morning and had managed to get her clothes off and crawl into bed.
Now she was nursing a terrific hangover and had a nasty cigarette taste in her mouth. Slowly, she got out of bed, looked at her watch. It was four-thirty in the afternoon. She had slept twelve hours.
She looked into the mirror. Her hair was a mess and her eyes showed the effects of too much liquor and too many cigarettes. She went into the bathroom, rinsed out her mouth with mint mouthwash and bathed her face in cold water.
Again, she stared at herself in the mirror. Stu... she couldn't get Stu out of her thoughts. She became slightly angry at the fact he had rejected her, that he wasn't sport enough to go along with the rules of the game she had reluctantly participated in even though he had drawn her for a night in the hay.
Stu's voice rang through her ears: 'I wouldn't go to bed with you if you were the last girl on earth! I'm going upstairs to go to bed. Alone! You should feel right at home at a party like this!' Damn him! she thought. Fate or whatever it was had brought them together at Sanderson's party, and fate had seen to it that they were paired off together despite terrific odds, but no, Stu Bryant wouldn't go to bed with her if she was the last girl on earth.
She thought of the morning edition of the Independent. She became excited. The Stu Bryant story... it would be there on one full page. Never before had so many hours passed before she had let her eyes fall on a big story she had written. She almost ran to the door in the living room, opened it, cautiously reached through the narrow opening and picked up the newspaper.
She hurried to the divan and collapsed onto it, drawing her legs up under her. She turned one page after another, and there it was! The black head splashed across the page, a three-column portrait-type picture of Stu. Her eyes fell on one line... By LOLA TRENT.
She lit a cigarette, folded the paper in the middle, drew it back just under her nude breasts and began to read the story:
--- This is a story about a nice guy who likes chicken pie and blueberry cobbler... ---
Lola wondered whether she would have started the story exactly that same way if she was writing it after what had happened at the Sandersons the previous night. Yes, she decided, she would have. Basically, Stu is a nice guy, she thought. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have paid for her cab fare home. He wouldn't have cared whether she got home at all or not.
She read on:
--- As a golfer, he shoots in the high nineties on his best days. He plays a game of tennis now and then and in the summertime occasionally goes fishing on weekends.
Never married, Bryant says the right girl hasn't come along yet. And what does he look for first in a girl? "Loyalty, I guess. Loyalty above everything else. And then beauty and brains. Not necessarily in that order on those last two characteristics." ---
On and on, Lola read even though she already practically knew the words by heart.
--- He attributes his success to hard work and long hours. And he does put in long hours, starting early in the morning and working until late most nights. ---
Moments later, she had finished reading the story and relaxed her head against the back of the divan. She smiled, proud of what she had written, proud of Stu. She had written everything nice about Stu a girl could say about a man. She thought that much of her success in writing the story had to be attributed to the fact that she was in love with him. Was and still is in love with him, she thought. He's all the things I think a man should be.
She tossed the paper aside and got up. She wondered what Stu's reaction would be to the story. She walked to the window and looked outside. The warm sun had turned some of the snow into slush, but the sun was fading in the distance now, and it wouldn't be long until another night would roll into the city.
Now in her thoughts she was recalling the first time Bryant had visited her apartment. The button... he had come there to get the button which was missing from his coat and ended up making love to her in the bedroom. And then the weekend in Westchester.
It all seemed so long ago now, even though, actually only two weeks had passed. Even the five days which had passed since he had asked her to marry him in San Francisco seemed like ages. A trip which had never really happened.
Even the memories of the preceding night at the Sandersons were vague. A thousand times she had looked at him while they were playing that silly old sex game. And a thousand times he had turned away with nothing except bitter resentment in his eyes. Still she had wonderful memories of this nice guy who likes chicken pie and blueberry cobbler.
She deserted the loneliness of the window, drifting into the still kitchen, back into the living room and finally into the bedroom. Memories... if only they would go away and stop haunting her.
Lola felt hungry now, but damned if she was going to eat in that kitchen. She would dress and put on her high heel boots and go out for dinner. Even eating along in some restaurant would be better than eating alone inside the four walls of the apartment.
She started to dress, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling nylons over her exciting legs... the legs that Stu had touched and kissed and loved. She got up and stepped into a pair of panties, cloaking her most prized possession in dark seclusion. She moved over to the mirror and saw the reflection of her breasts, the weighty cones of flesh which Stu had caressed with his lips and squeezed with his hands and flicked with his tongue and idolized with his heart.
No matter what she did, no matter what she saw, no matter what she thought, the memories of Stu were there, blazing in and out of her mind like neon lights flashing on and off, tormenting hell out of her.
She finished dressing, closing the zipper on the black sheath with the revealing neckline and the pink bow at the waist, a sheath she was wearing for the first time. Even that produced memories. She had planned to wear it on her next date with Stu; a date that now would never come off.
Lazily, she got her coat, stopped by the mirror, freshened her lipstick and mascara, turned out the lights, and went to the door. She took a reassuring look around the room, reached for the door, pulled it open, and whirled around into the hall.
And clashed head on with a man holding two large bags of groceries which hid his face from her view.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Very sorry. I was looking back into the room when I should have been paying attention to the hallway."
The man's head darted from around the edge of the groceries.
Lola did not see his face immediately, being occupied with locking her door.
"Lola!"
She whirled around, almost knocking the groceries out of his hands.
"Stu!" She didn't know whether to jump up and down with joy or run for the nearest shelter and crawl into it.
Bryant's face was solemn because he, likewise, didn't know whether to jump up and down with joy or run to the nearest shelter and crawl into it.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" He was moving in closer to her and had her pretty well hemmed in against the door.
"Well, if you'll get out of my way, I'm going to eat dinner," she returned.
"You're not going anywhere except right back into that apartment," he said, his face breaking into a smile for the first time.
Lola shook her head. "I'm not?"
"That's right. You're not. Unlock the door."
She squirmed around until her back was to him and unlocked the door.
Bryant followed her inside and kicked the door shut with his foot.
She moved slowly to the center of the room, suddenly spun around toward him, her hands on her hips.
"Okay, if you're going to give me hell, get it over with. And why don't you put those sacks down? You look like a damn fool standing there with all of that junk in your hands!"
He knelt down and set the groceries on the floor.
"I am putting them down. And I didn't come here to give you hell. I came here to... " His voice faded away.
"Then why did you come, Stu?"
He felt as if he was going to choke.
"To see if a very lovely blonde is still in love with me."
"Have you read the story?"
He was moving toward her.
"Ten times... at least. It was wonderful. After you left the Sandersons last night, I got into bed, but I couldn't go to sleep. So I got up and drove back to the city and bought a copy of the Independent and read the story then for the first time. You wrote the nicest things anyone ever wrote or said about me." He removed his coat and tossed it over a chair.
"You really did like it?" Lola asked, wanting to hear him say it again.
He took off her coat. "It was terrific." He knelt down in front of her and removed her high heel boots. "I thought you hated me and that you'd make the story just as hateful as possible." His hands moved between her legs and rolled first one and then the other stocking down and off.
Lola broke into a smile as he raised up in front of her again.
He put his hands under her arms and felt the sudden rise of her breasts.
"Now, tell me-are you still in love with me or not?"
"Oh, Stu, I've never stopped loving you!"
He pulled the zipper down on her sheath.
"I got exactly two hours sleep today. I spent the rest of the time thinking what a damn fool I'd been."
She took off his jacket, tie, and shirt.
"What about Jean, that brunette you were with last night?"
Bryant raised the sheath over her head.
"She got what she wanted last night, a night in the sack with a man. Any man."
Lola took off his undershirt and then knelt down and removed his shoes and socks. Her heart was about to burst with uncontrollable excitement.
"You said some pretty nasty things to me in San Francisco and again last night, Stu."
"I realize that, and believe me, Lola, when I say that I'm sorry about everything," he apologized, unfastening the hook on her bra and drawing it away from her throbbing breasts. "And one thing about last night-that wasn't my kind of a party. I really don't go for that kind of stuff. If Sanderson wasn't a number one customer, I wouldn't have been there."
"Well, it wasn't my idea of a party, either." She loosened his belt and let his trousers slide down his legs and waited while he stepped out of them. "I knew deep down inside you didn't mean those things you said, Stu, because nice guys never say nasty things and mean them."
Bryant reached for her panties, rolled them off of her hips, down over her thighs, and turned them loose.
"All morning long and all afternoon, I was thinking that the best time I ever had in my life was that night I came to your apartment and you sewed on the button and whipped up that delicious meal. I've never forgotten that night."
She unsnapped his briefs and watched them fall to the floor.
"I take it then that you came over tonight for another meal and you brought along the groceries."
He took her into his arms, molding the curves of her body tightly into his. He could feel her breasts pressing deeply into his chest, and passion rolled through him like thunder raging in the sky.
"That's right... chicken pie and blueberry cobbler from that little bar where we first met."
She drew her lips very close to his.
"What I want right now isn't in those sacks, Stu." Her lips touched his. "You know what I want right now, don't you?"
"I'll say I do... the same thing I want!" he replied, his lips blending into hers. With their lips locked together, he picked her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
As he let her down in the center of the bed, he asked: "Do you still want to keep that wedding date a week from today?"
"Yes, Stu!" she answered. "The new Lola Trent... " Stu Bryant drowned out her voice as their bodies became one, but he knew what she meant. Exactly what she meant. Now and forever.
