Chapter 3
Nick barely had time to get into the house and order dinner before the bell rang. He pushed the buzzer under the bar which activated the lock on the front door.
"Gertie?"
"I'm in the den. Come on in."
He finished off the drink and put the glass on a tray as two women entered the room. He moved around the bar. The women were almost hidden by the bundles of packages they carried.
"Just dump those," he said. "We'll have a look at them later. Here."
He handed a drink to Gertie who had just opened her arms and let the packages fall. "Thanks... Jesus, the fucking crowds."
He turned to the girl, offering a drink.
He stared. She wasn't the little ragamuffin with the mop of hair and the tent over her body any more. Makeup had brought out the natural beauty of her face and a hair stylist had done a great job.
Nick was more than attracted to her already. He didn't like the feeling.
"I understand you two haven't officially met. Clara, this is Nick Jennings."
"I recognized the voice," the girl said. "Is that drink for me?"
"That's what it's hanging on the end of my arm for."
"I don't drink," she said. "Only a little wine." Nick smiled. "Bar's right there. Help yourself." He drank her drink in one long swallow as he watched her walk to the bar. Gertie had done well. The skirt was tight across well-formed buttocks that bounced delightfully with every step. Beneath it, she had long, well-shaped legs. She was much taller than he had at first assumed.
When she got to the bar and turned, he noticed her tits. They were large and nicely shaped. The material of her blouse was stretched dangerously taut across then. It was easy to see that the bra under the blouse was full to the bunting point. They were firm, proud tits and Nick guessed that they would fail to sag even when she was on her back.
Gertie poke, drawing his attention away from the girl. "Did to good?" she said, easing herself into a chair by the fireplace.
"You done good," Nick said, occupying an adjacent chair.
Clara returned from the bar and stood between them.
"Dinner will be ready in about a half hour, honey," Nick said. "Why don't you grab one of those packages and bop upstairs and change?"
"I'm fine the way I am."
Nick's eyes met Gertie's briefly.
"Be a nice girl," Gertie said, "and model some of Daddy's purchases. Pick any door at the top of the stairs. They're all bedrooms."
The girl looked from Gertie to Nick. Neither of them returned her stare. She shrugged, grabbed one of the boxes, and left.
"What did you buy?" Nick asked.
"Even... soup to nuts," she replied. "I didn't exactly know what your plans were for her, so I went the whole route... from the skin out."
"There's a lot more there than I thought there would be."
"Boss," she said, turning to him at last, "you got no idea what's under those clothes. A couple of times, in those dressing rooms, I had one hell of a time keeping my hands off her. What a set of tits."
Nick chuckled. "Nicer than yours?"
"As good. But ten years younger and finer," Gertie said. "Believe me, I hope you lose I don't think I've had a chance at anything so nice since Connie had her accident."
They both fell silent. It was the first time in over a year that Gertie had mentioned her former lover's name.
Connie had also been Nick's mistress. She had gotten close to... too close. She had learned too much about his business. He had kept her for years and had never guessed that she was living with Gertie at the same time.
And Gertie never knew about Nick. Gertie was a wry jealous woman. When she found out about Nick, Connie had her accident... a free fall with no chute from eleven floors up.
Then Gertie got a gun and came looking for Nick. She found him, but her resolve broke down before she could kill him.
He beat her nearly to death, then, after a tearful scene, he gave her a job along with the name of Gertie. That had been seven years before, and Nick couldn't even remember her real name any more.
Gertie and Gertie. Now he couldn't do without either one of them.
"A hundred bucks for your thoughts," she said. "Connie," she said.
"She was a cunt."
"Hell of a piece of ass though."
"I'll bet this one's better."
Nick chuckled again. "I bow to the expert. What did you find out?"
"Next to nothing. She wouldn't open up at all. Little things maybe, like she has no taste and no class. But she's not dumb. When she found out you were footing the bill, she chose the most expensive of everything."
Nick's mind returned to Clara's body. He could almost see her undressing upstairs. Again he felt the attraction.
Nick stood up. "Have any trouble getting rid of Natalie this afternoon?"
"No... meek as a lamb. Gave her the 'don't call us, we'll call you' routine," Gertie said, linking arms with him.
"Where'd you nail her?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know fucking well what I mean," he said, laughing.
Gertie smiled. "On the sofa in your office."
"I thought so. How was she?"
"A hell of a lot better than you had, I'll bet."
"I don't doubt that," he said. "But I think I still went you one better. A new girl on the third floor. Fay."
"Good?" Gertie said, her eyes lighting up.
"I'll check it out tonight after I leave here."
Upstairs, Clara stripped the blouse and skirt from her body. She mumbled, talking to herself.
When she was stripped to her bra and panties, she leaned against a bedpost. Her body was shaking, and even though the temperature in the room was warm, goose bumps popped out on her flesh.
Her shoulders shook and she saw the tops of her breasts quiver and bounce above her bra.
"Jesus, she was right. He would be enough to make a lesbian turn colors."
She moved one hand and slid it down over her belly and under the elastic band of her panties. She touched the wiry, matted curls of her blonde pubic hair and let two fingers continue their path downward.
"Jesus, I'm soaked."
And she was. The excitement of just being around him, around the power and sex that he stood for, had started her juices flowing like a fountain. The crotch of her panties was wet to the dripping point and some of the sticky substance had dripped down to her thighs.
"What'll I do if... Jesus, he's something else." She remembered the last letter in her bag. It always helped to read that.
Without realizing it, two of her fingers had slipped up into her cunt. She smiled. That might help. She turned her body around and sat on the bed. Leaning against the post, she hiked her legs up and put both hands inside her panties. She pulled the lips of her cunt wide while she inserted first one, then two, then three fingers of her other hand far up her hole.
Her pussy was warm, and wet, and sticky.
And, oh God, how good her three trembling fingers felt, surging up the hungry cavity. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She bit her lower lip.
She bit down hard and immediately tasted blood.
"Come... come... come!" she chanted.
She spread her knees even wider. A feeling of intense fire swirled through her cunt. She balled her fist and shoved it far up her slit. She mashed her cunt and rubbed, gently at first and then with ever-increasing pressure.
"Burn... bum it up, now," she groaned. "Come... come... now!"
The bed came alive as she fucked her fingers hungrily up into the moistness of her hole. She withdrew them only to drive them in again, even harder and farther.
She thrust against her hand, screwing it deeper into her pussy. She thought of Nick's cock. She'd never seen it, but she knew what it was like from the letters. She knew the feel of it, the size of it, and the power of his prick.
Her hand became that cock. She could feel, almost see its huge, thickly-glistening shaft ramming its way into her clasping cunt. It sank through the soft pubic hair and hammered its way into her cock-hungry pussy.
Her hand became that cock as her gasps became those of a fucked woman. She was suddenly grinding her ass up beneath his racing body, surging her own sweating thighs toward his in search of an orgasm. Now he was a wild man, totally in her power, pumping his cum-filled prick into her hot cuntal channel.
"Oh God... oh, my God!" she moaned.
Her fingers weren't enough as her thoughts centered on the massive male meat she had never seen or touched.
But now she only had her fingers.
In desperation she reached beneath her fleshy ass-cheeks and searched in the wet crevice between them. She found the target and wormed a finger deep into the tiny puckered opening of her ass-hole.
"Yes... oh there... there," she gasped aloud, as the pain lanced through her prickling flesh. She paused for a second, then again took up the rhythm.
Her breasts worked their way out of her bra. Her nipples, darkly pink and gorged with blood, danced like dervishes before her eyes.
Her face went white as she felt her climax approaching. It tilled her body and rushed through her mind with a great wave. She hung for a moment, gasping for air, as her body vibrated and teetered on the edge of release.
And then the clear, white-hot juices from her cunt gushed warmly around her fingers. They covered her hand and ran down between her smoothly-tensed buttocks. She could feel the sweet wetness and she reveled in it.
Her body quivered, her buttocks remained in the air, swaying. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her fingers from her clenching vaginal walls until the last, dying throbs of her delicious come had quelled in her body.
At last her fingers slithered wetly from her satiated cunt. She rolled limply to her side, still panting.
After several seconds, she crawled from the bed and examined her panties. They were soaked.
"Shit," she said, stripping them from her body.
In the bathroom she rolled the flimsy garment into a tight little ball and flushed it down the john. The bra was soaked with perspiration, so she dropped it into the wastebasket, then she turned to the mirror to try to repair her make-up and disheveled hair.
Working with the tools of her sex that she found in the bathroom, she imagined what the woman, Gertie, would think if she could see her. That afternoon Clara had professed nothing but ignorance about make-up and its proper application.
But then it wouldn't do for either of them, Gertie or Nick, to know that she was not just a hippie chick who sang folk songs.
All models knew everything possible about make-up. It was part of the trade. And she might not have been the top model in Canada, but she was right up there. Maybe not enough to be known in the States, but enough to finance the three years it had taken to get where she was in her plan to get to Nick Jennings.