Chapter 17

Peggy came out of sleep slowly, realizing almost immediately that she was in the studio, lying on the big, hard bed where she had been so deliciously scr-posed. Only a low work light glowed in a corner, throwing grotesque shadows up the wall, but they no longer menaced her. Now they were familiar creatures. That was the gooseneck lamp. And that the baby brute. And that monster on stalk legs was the ladder Jim used to set the lights.

She stretched, writhing her shoulders in slow luxurious motion that pulled muscles so delightfully used only a short time ago.

Short time ago!

Peggy sat up, swinging her legs to the floor and squinted into the dark, trying to locate Jim -and Ken. She heard the murmur of voices, low, just a hair acrimonious. It had just that note of querulousness before Grandma burst into foul temper tantrums.

Her two favorite people! She now included Ken in her select little group. And about to quarrel. She knew now where they were. The studio lounge. Staggering a little from the lingering effects of sleep, Peggy wove her way among the cables and tripods and ladders to the lounge door and pushed it open quietly, having learned from experience with Grandma that if there was going to be a tirade, the best place for her was out.

Ken, dressed again and looking peculiar aggressive considering his furtive approach and uncertain maneuvers once he was with Peggy, was leaning across the desk, tapping a finger on the blotter.

"You know what you have here, don't you? A gold mine. A gold mine!"

Jim scowled down at the tapping finger. "Ken, have you ever been bitten by a tiger when you were holding the tail? That's what I've got here. A tiger by the tail. And nobody but that lousy chump, Jim Atwood, to blame. I ASKED her in. I practically LURED her in."

"She's beautiful. She's... music... and spring... youth and innocence..."

"Innocence?" Jim's voice almost bleated. "Child she is, but innocent? She knew more about Eve's apple than the snake. And I'm hooked. And so are you, Ken. Except I know I'm hooked and you think, just because you've achieved something, getting what you got today, you're freed. You're freed of one thing, but you're hooked on our thirteen-year-old Lilith."

"Of course, I am." Ken leaned back, slapping his hands on his knees. "Certainly I'm hooked on Peggy. Delightful child. Absolutely delightful. And-er-talented."

"That she is. That she is. And we haven't begun to explore her talents."

"That's just what I mean, Jim. Just what I mean. It's too much for this little shop and your set-up. Your-distribution..."

Jim spoke plaintively, "I was doing all right. I had this apartment. Sure it's crummy, but large and comfortable. Back of the studio. You haven't seen it. I have a Jaguar, comfortably old but still glamorous. I have-or had a list of models that gave satisfactory service. In several areas."

"And sold the results for peanuts. Peanuts, Jim." Ken leaned forward earnestly. "Look, Jim. I may have been only half a man for many years, but believe me, that half knew money. I had nothing else to know. I know money. I knew how to make it. I know WHAT makes it. And this will make it. Oh, not millions maybe, but for the slight investment-fabulous."

Jim sighed. "That's another thing, Ken. I don't have anything for that slight investment or even half of it, whatever it is."

"Money's my problem, Jim. And money I have. And distribution outlets I know." He chuckled. "Why shouldn't I? I've been buying through them for years. But Peggy's your problem. Can you put it up to her?"

"Put what up?" For a moment Peggy felt sheer panic. All this talk of money, the faint hints that Jim might have to give up his apartment and studio. Then-no more-posing. It shook her small frame, so that when she walked into the room her slim, naked body was quivering. "Put what up to me?"

Jim turned, a tired smile lighting his features. "Oh, Peggy, Ken has been suggesting we convert to movies. With you as our star."

Peggy shook her head so vigorously her hair whipped across her face. "No. I can't pose in movies."

Ken was about to speak when Jim held up his hand. "My problem, remember." He turned to Peggy. "In these you can. They're a new kind of movie, called adult art films which..." and gave his wry little smile, "is strictly a misnomer. They are neither adult nor art."

Peggy's face cleared. "In movies? I can pose? Like we've been doing? You won't-send me away?"

Ken leaned forward, beaming at her. "Send you away? Dear me, no. Oh, me, no! You would be the star."

Jim tucked his chin in, glowering across at Ken. "You know it's slightly illegal. With a nymphet."

Ken waved a hand around, and then beckoned Peggy to come stand beside him. "And what do you think this is? And this." He draped a cool arm around Peggy's naked shoulder. "What I propose is simply-oh, let's say, expanded illegality-at inflated prices. And profits."

It was all explained to her, very carefully. They would shift the studio over to making movies. Of Peggy posing. The posing might be a little different-sort of with a story-and there might be several men involved.

Peggy's eyes widened. "You mean-pose with several men at once? How could 1?"

"Not at once. One after the other..."

Peggy nodded, pleased. "Like today. You two." She thought it over carefully. "Will you and Jim be posing with me?"

Ken became judicial. "That we'll have to see about." He waved to Jim to take over the sales pitch.

Jim studied her lovely, slim body and bounced three times in his chair. "That's me, kicking myself for this. But here goes. Peggy, you said today you 'sort of liked' having Ken watch you and me-posing."

Peggy nodded. "I could almost feel him looking. On my skin."

"In making a movie there'll be several men watching you-pose. Seeing you naked. Are you sure you won't mind?"

Ken frowned. "How can the child be sure she won't mind? She has no idea..."

"Ken, she had ideas before Cleopatra thought up that rug trick. Lilith had ideas-and a pipeline right to the source of all evil. Maybe Peggy... has her own pipeline. She is depraved. Delightfully depraved."

Peggy wriggled with delight at this nonsense, moving her little rump and pelvis in a special rhythm which she thought she had invented. She jiggled her bubbies, feeling their motion-and seeing Jim's pecker bulge inside his trousers.

Ken came back to business, carefully keeping his eyes away from Peggy's nudity. "I rather think I could handle the scripts. I'm something of a dilettante at writing."

"Scripts?" Jim patted Peggy's fanny with a quick, hard slap. "I'm in favor of turning our Peggy loose in front of the camera with sixteen men-and letting her go on down the list. However, I see your point. Discipline."

"The scripts must necessarily be rather loose," Ken said.

"Then they should fit Peggy..." Jim grinned crookedly and rubbed Peggy's fanny, as if he would rub away the slap. Or rub it in. "You are a loose wench, my pet."

And the men went back to talking money and film stock and developing tanks and the merits of cameras, with Jim holding out for rentals until they knew which jail they'd be sitting in. Ken chuckled at that. "A pessimist. The distributors I know will protect us..."

Peggy was bored with it, even though Jim would occasionally notice her long enough to pat her fanny or stroke her back. She wandered off to the dressing room, to preen in front of the pier glass, enjoying her body and indulging in day dreams.

Sixteen men? And Peggy could just go down the list? Even to Peggy that sounded overblown if not extravagant. Still, the idea of sixteen men-all with their peckers out and standing erect-was stomach-shaking. Could her little cunt take sixteen men, one after the other? Possibly not... but still...