Chapter 6

The sun streaming through the bedroom window awakened Rene. She watched lazily, smiling and glad to be alive, until a small sharp pain in her cheek reminded her of what Oscar had done and said the night before.

She frowned, disturbed and hurt, unhappy that things had turned out so badly and so wrongly. It hurt her that she had lost all hope of marrying the one man she really cared for, but it was worse to know that he thought such awful things about her.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed aloud.

"Rene? Are you up?" Dale called from the kitchen.

"I'm up," Rene answered cheerily. She made it a point to always try to start her day pleasantly and uplifting her voice the first thing in the morning helped.

"Coffee's on," announced Dale. "And I'll have ham and eggs and toast in a minute."

"And I'll be out in a minute."

Dale had decided not to say a word about last night. Knowing Rene, it was best to pretend it had never happened and just let life resume its normal course. Rene would coast right along with it, she would go to work, carry on as usual, and things would be as they always were again.

"What's on the agenda today?" Dale asked Rene as they were having breakfast.

"I'm posing for Tony Gale in his studio all day."

"Good guy, that Tony. He's getting his stuff into a lot of magazines these days." Dale bit into a piece of toast. "I have to see a man about a movie."

"Huh?" Rene's eyes were wide. "A movie? Gosh, Dale! Are you going to be in a movie?"

Dale laughed. "Relax, dear. Paramount isn't about to make a star out of me. It's just a cheap quickie, one of those phony nudist things. It's about two days work, that's all. I get to stand around in my bare flesh in the desert."

"My goodness! A movie! Do they want any more girls?"

"Well, the call was a hurry-up thing, so I didn't get a chance to find out. If I do, I'll call you at Tony's studio."

"Oh, that'll be just wonderful! I've always wanted to be in a movie! Thanks, Dale!"

Dale smiled to herself. Rene was herself again and all was right with the world. All pain was gone from the large blue eyes and they were aglow now with nothing but the thought of being in a motion picture, no matter how cheap the film was. It was wonderful, Dale told herself again, to be Rene Clark. Life was simply and wonderfully a bowl of cherries.

But suddenly Rene's face clouded. "It's ten o'clock," she said. "Don't they start making movies early in the morning or something like that?"

"I'm just being interviewed and auditioned today at two. They start shooting next Monday. So relax, sweetie."

The girls finished breakfast and dressed, chatting happily away about their work. They were young, they were busy, and they were alive. Rene's feelings toward Oscar were deep and sincere, but such was the nature of her spirit and she knew that by dwelling on her disappointment in him, she would be unhappy, and senselessly so.

So she dismissed him from her mind, if not from her heart.

Rene was leaving the apartment first while Dale was at the phone talking to a friend when Dale reminded her of the nine o'clock date she had that evening. "Now don't break this one," she cautioned. "It makes it bad for the agency as well as for you."

"I won't forget. I'll be back long before nine. Have a good day, Dale. And don't forget to let me know about the movie. I hope it works out all right for both of us."

And Rene was off in a breeze of bright perfume, blonde hair and a dazzling smile, oblivious to the pain in the world, ready for the day, and rushing toward it with all the fervor of a child rushing toward a playground.

And she rushed right into Oscar's arms. He was waiting for her-had been waiting since early morning-and she, hurrying to catch a bus, didn't see him until he embraced her and drew her up short.

"Ohmygosh!" Rene cried. "What are you doing here?"

She was happy to see him, glad at the familiarity of him, and the viciousness of the night before was veiled over, covered and hidden by the brightness of the day and the strength of Oscar's smile.

"I want to tell you how sorry I am," Oscar said, his voice throbbing with excitement. "You were right; I did drink too much last night and I was completely cockeyed about a lot of things."

"I'm not a whore, Oscar!" Rene cried, tears and laughter welling out of her. "Honest I'm not!" N

"Let's go someplace and you can tell me all about it."

"Oh, I can't. I have an appointment to do some posing."

"Can I come with you? And then we can be together all day because I'm not about to let you go again."

"Of course, Tony won't mind. He's a regular guy. Besides...." Rene smiled archly, "once you see how we work, you'll see it's all business and you won't think so badly about us."

They got into his car, smiling, laughing, talking, bubbling over with the excitement of honesty and discovery, while passers-by looked, shook their heads and mumbled about "this crazy modern generation."

Dale called Rene at the studio later that afternoon and told her that it was all set for the producer to interview her the following day for the movie job. Rene didn't tell her friend about Oscar, however, she wanted to save that to tell her in person. It was too wonderful a bit of news to tell over the phone.

Because Oscar had proposed to her at lunch break, asked her to wait for him until he finished his tour. Then he would be back and they would be married and live in New York. He would be able to supervise East Coast operations for his company from there and Rene, if she wanted, could continue her work.

And Rene wept and laughed and cried out, "Yes, Oscar! Yes! Oh, Yes!"

The other customers in the restaurant had been, to say the least, startled when she cried out and knocked aside a plate of fried chicken and a cup of coffee to reach Oscar so she could hug and kiss him across the table.

And of course she forgot all about the appointment with the photographer that evening because she and Oscar were on cloud nine that carried them through the rest of the afternoon and long, long into the evening.

But the man didn't forget.

He was parked before the Coronado Apartments very early that evening. The trunk of his Olds carried all the equipment he needed. He also had packed a full picnic meal, but enough only for one.

As he waited for the hour, he dreamed. His eyes glazed over, his mouth worked itself into a half-smile, his cheeks sagged, as he lost himself in a transport of fantasy.

He broke off once in a while, shaking himself, blinking his eyes to restore himself to the present, and looked about at the street and its people. He knew that he wasn't to allow himself to get too carried away, not to reach too great a pitch of excitement.

That would come later.

And thinking of later, he would go off into the dream again. He never allowed himself to get so lost, however, that he didn't keep track of the time. He was in no hurry, either. The longer he waited, the better it would be, the more prolonged the ... how had he read it. .?

It came back to him-a line of printed matter in some book he had read once a long time ago. And he could see it now as clearly as though it were printed indelibly in his mind: "Unendurable ecstasy indefinitely prolonged."

He closed his eyes and dreamed.

At exactly one minute to nine he got out of the car and crossed the street to the Coronado. Calmly, making sure he didn't hurry matters, he examined the names on the row of bells in the lobby.

He found what he was looking for: "Rene Clark-Dale Anders-" and rang the bell. The answering buzzer opened the inner door for him and he went up in the elevator.

Dale was at the open door waiting for him. She was dressed in a pair of tight black slacks that stressed the flow of her legs and the tightness of her bottom. Her full bosom was only covered in a token manner by a white and skin-tight sweater.

His eyes were veiled as he looked at her.

"Good evening," Dale smiled. "Are you the photographer Rene is to work for tonight?" He nodded and she went on, "Well, she should be home any minute. Won't you come in and wait?"

The man bowed his head in thanks and passed into the apartment. "She missed our appointment last night," he said in a low tone, looking around at the furnishings.

"I know," Dale replied, gesturing the man toward a chair. "It was something that couldn't be helped. An old friend of hers came into town and he was here for only the one night." She smiled. "My name is Dale Anders. I'm Rene's roommate. I model too."

"I've never seen your pictures," the man said slowly. "I saw a lot of Miss Clark's, though. Don't you do the same kind of posing?"

His eyes were roaming up and down her figure as she sat opposite him. She didn't worry, however. They were not the eyes of lust and hunger. Instead, they were appraising her professionally, from a photographer's point of view.

"We do a lot of the same type," she said, "but not all."

His eyes were heavy-lidded. "I sell my shots to the stores downtown on Main Street."

"Oh." Dale spoke flatly. "I see. Well, I haven't done too much of that kind of work. Rene, has, though. "You'll like her, I'm sure. I can't understand what's keeping her."

"You have done that kind of posing, however?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. I'm not the type, it seems."

"You look as if you'd do fine."

The girl smiled. This man was a strange one. He didn't seem to be a talkative type and yet here he was giving as well as taking. He was weird looking, but she was used to odd-looking types in this business. Men who spent too many years of their lives at the operating end of the camera seemed to develop off-beat faces and personalities.

He didn't look too prosperous, either, but that was also part of the course. These guys just didn't care how they dressed; they put all their money into photographic equipment.

He smiled as he paid her the compliment and she felt an inner chill as she saw his teeth, widely spaced, stained and yellow.

Afraid that she showed her reaction on her face, she covered by saying, "Thank you, but they say I don't look-well, defenseless e-nough for that kind of work. You want the more glittery doll type, don't you? Like Rene?"

The man shrugged, his eyes fixed at a point just above her brows. "Sometimes. The customers like a change over once in a while." He looked at his watch and bit his upper lip. "I can't wait too long, I'm afraid."

"Oh!" Dale glanced at the door as if expecting to see Rene walk in. "She should be here any minute. She told me that she wasn't going to miss this appointment."

"It's rather poor business," the man muttered, studying his watch and glowering. "This makes two in a row she's dumped. The agency assured me she was most reliable...."

"Oh, she is, Mister-" Dale waited a second but the man did not offer his name. "The agency knows that. She's the most reliable of all the girls. Please wait a little longer."

"Well...."

The man rose and paced to the window. Outside the moon shone brightly, casting shadows along the other buildings, making the night seem like a blue day. The desert was like this, too, he was sure-bright and blue all over, so clear that you could see anything and everything just as clear! A woman's eyes, for instance, her eyes widening in horror as the rope cut into her bound flesh.

Every detail would show on a night like this. Everything.

"Miss Anders?" he asked, his back still to Dale.

"Yes?" she replied expectantly.

"Could you take her place tonight?"

There was a silence as neither moved or spoke. Dale was thinking that this man would report Rene to the agent and that would be bad for Rene. She knew that her friend depended on these strange pictures she posed for-shots of herself bound and gagged in strange positions. Neither girl could understand the attraction these photos held for some men, but they were popular and sold well all over the country.

And Rene needed the work. She needed money more than Dale did, money for her parents and for her future. No, she couldn't afford to lose out with this agency.

"Of course," she replied after a moment. "If it's all right with you."

The man turned and faced her, his expression as cold as ice. "Of course it's all right with me. Why shouldn't it be?"

"I didn't think I was the type."

"You'll do fine. I'll use your friend another time."

"Well, that's just great, then." Dale reached for her bag. "Do I need any special costume?"

"A bra and panties."

"I'm wearing those. Where are we going?"

"The desert. I want to take some night shots there."

"I'll leave a note for Rene telling her I've gone with you." Dale scribbled a note on a pad on an end table. She smiled at the man over her shoulder. "Rene is a worrier. I have to let her know where I am every minute. She does the same thing for me. Girls have to watch themselves in this town."

He didn't seem interested. He tightened his lips as he waited for her. Done with the note, she smiled brightly. "I'm ready now. Let's go."

The man pointed to her mouth. "Is that the only lipstick you have?"

"No. I've got all colors. Is this wrong?"

"I think I'd like a brighter shade for you. Do you have it?""

"Sure. Excuse me a moment."

When she went into the bedroom the man slid over to the end table like a snake. He ripped the note from the pad and crumpled it into his pocket. When Dale came out he was waiting at the door.

She held up a lipstick tube of bright red. "Is this all right?"

He barely glanced at it. "Fine. Let's go, Miss Anders."

The only thing on Dale's mind as she got into his old car was, "What a nice guy. Nobody calls anybody by last name in this town. It's nice to meet someone who does."

And then her eyes clouded as they drove along, remembering that she didn't know his name, first or last. But then she relaxed. Las Vegas was a goofy town anyway, filled with kooky people.

So why should she worry about one more? It was only another job.