Chapter 17
STEVE answered the bell, opening the door of his apartment widely to Mildred Whitney.
"You were so secretive." Mildred started. "I rushed right over."
"Come in, Mildred," Steve beamed, and to him-self he thought, your days are numbered, you little bitch.
Mildred moved into the apartment cautiously. "You made a deal with Sheldon today, didn't you, Steve?"
Steve raised his arms, passed his hands along the thick, shoulder fur of her coat—mink, he presumed, assuming how she had earned the coat. "Only to get Sheldon to uncover his hand. And I don't need him, Mildred—not if I can depend on you." He eased her out of the coat, tossed it over the back of a chair. "Stick with me, Mildred, and you'll have furs that will make that one look like an old dust rag."
Mildred thickened a throaty sigh, moving in on Steve. She wet her lips prettily, inches away from Steve's. "You know you can depend on me, Steve."
Steve sucked in his breath; Mildred's thighs pressed in and her breasts flattened against him.
"Mildred, I know how to get a pile of necessary proxy votes in a hurry. Only I'll need your help."
"Who is he?" she shot back knowingly.
"A real patsy—Adele's husband—the tennis star." Steve studied her, but she expertly concealed any surprise. "Quite a few stockholders are his friends and would go along with him."
"And you want me to go to work on Tommy?"
Steve struggled to keep a straightface. Mildred had mentioned him by his first name before he had used it. He decided to get right at it. "I can introduce Tommy to you—"
"That won't be necessary," she interrupted, giving herself slightly away for the first time.
"Do you know Tommy," Steve asked with faked nonchalance.
"I—I met him once—at a party," she stammered. Just that once—but he flirted with me."
"Then he ought to be a pushover for you," Steve shrugged, easing slightly away from her.
"Before we go much further," she started deliberately, "what's in it for me? Maybe we ought to have a little business discussion."
Steve moved fast, tightening his grip on her, his hands plying her shoulders. He brought his lips down hard on hers, prodded but met the barrier of her teeth. He worked his hands down her back and, after he had massaged the high rise of her buttocks, he heard a whimper deep in her throat, her mouth opened and her tongue hungrily twined his.
"Steve," she ,.groaned, "we really should settle a few matters."
"Mildred," he started, tenderly caressing her face and overacting his bit. "I've been doing flips over you —ever since that morning you stepped out of my shower with that towel hugging your gorgeous frame."
"But you've been avoiding me, Steve, ever since that morning."
Steve started his hands trembling at her chin. Yeah—you scared me—knowing what you do to me." Steve lowered his eyes, went for broke. "The way I feel about you . . ."
"Steve darling," Mildred blowed, her over-confidence showing. "Is this romance?"
"I've been living with a vision, Mildred,) all these days. I look—and I see you standing there with only that towel draped about you. And then I see myself moving slowly to you . . . slowly unwinding the towel—and taking its place."
"Steve," she sighed, playfully circling her forefinger about his chin. "I haven't had my dinner yet and I'm famished. It must be after eight. Why don't we step out and have a few drinks, a nice quiet dinner, some very-binding conversation—and then we'll scoot right back here for the night?"
"Mildred, baby, you've got me so I can't even think straight. Why don't you be real nice to me?"
"How?"
"Make that vision real again. Come out of that bathroom draped in nothing but a towel."
"Now?" she shrilled, hands on hips. "Of all the screwy—"
"Please, baby," Steve groveled. "I want to see you standing there by my bed . . . and then ..."
"I've heard of guys with real nutty fetishes," she groaned, "but this is the living end!"
"Please, Mildred, I'll do anything for you ..."
Mildred suddenly perked up. "Well, if that's how you like it . . ." She started slowly for the bathroom. Before closing the door she glanced back at Steve. "I'll be right with you. But if you don't mind—I'll skip the shower. I'm just getting over that damned cold you gave me the last time."
Steve relaxed, smiling widely to himself as she slammed the bathroom door closed behind her.
"Mildred, you little snake," he whispered to him-self. "This time you're gonna catch something a lot worse than a cold."
Steve checked the clock on the mantel: 8:05 P.M. He was right on schedule. He thought instantly of his secretary, Nina, hoping she hadn't run into any snags in her part of the operation. Steve tiptoed to the door, opened it quietly and scattered a few of his business calling cards in the hallway—the signal for Nina to bring on her participant in the upcoming drama. Steve held his breath as he eased the door closed, but he didn't bother to lock it. He sidled back to his old position by the bed and breathed easier. He stared directly ahead at the closed bathroom door, waiting impatiently. "C'mon, Mildred," he silently mouthed. "I'm ready any time you are."
He shot a quick glance at the clock, the perspiration starting at his forehead. Everything had been planned carefully with Nina, right to the minute, and time was starting to run against him. "Mildred?" he called out. "Baby, I'm waiting."
The bathroom door opened and Mildred swiveled out into the room, the towel tightened at the side of her bosom and dangling about the flow of her sleek midsection.
"I still say this is nutty." She shrugged.
Steve swallowed hard, felt his legs go rubbery. Just one look at her told Steve why she could dangle Sheldon on one little finger and Tommy Crandon on an-other little finger aid still be able to cope with any number of promising newcomers.
"Steve? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Steve felt the fire kindling in him and he knew why he was looking at her like that. He also knew that if he didn't cool it quickly with self-imposed control, his little plan would soon go astray and she'd have him jumping through hoops with each wanton sway of her supple body.
Steve pulled himself together, ready to fake it the way. He grinned. "That towel of mine never it so good."
She licked her red lips, her hands massaging the flat of her stomach. "Anything that towel can do—you ought to be able to do better, Steve."
Steve bit hard on his lower lip. "Come here, Mildred."
She made the most of the short walk, grinding out each of the seven or eight steps, her hips swaying, the towel straining over the rich abundance cif her breasts. She made a production out of halting dangerously close to him, taking his hands in hers and slowly flicking a kiss to each fingertip.
Steve freed his hands and hooked them into the top of the towel at the crest of her bosom. He hesitated, the throbbing heat of the milkwhite lushness scorching his hands.
"Love me," she whispered, her gaze going boldly to the bed. "Love me like the last time—with all of you.
She attempted to pull him down on the bed. Steve angered and tore the towel away from her nudity and she was instantly at him, her claw-like nails digging deeply into his back. Steve countered, his hands grasping and locking her hips. He mustered all his strength and hurled her onto the bed in a sitting position, her back flush to the wall. He hovered over her, his breath coming in jagged spurts.
"Oh, Steve, darling," she wailed, attempting to snake down on the bed, taking him along with her.
Steve sadistically smashed his palms against her breasts, heard the thud of her back against the wall. He glared down at her, the writhing satin-sleekness of her flesh goading him, his hands tingling to touch all of her, his lips blistering to taste.
Mildred clawed at his clothing. "Don't make me wait, Steve. I need you—desperately!" She impatiently started to unbutton his shirt. "Just the two of us, Steve—always!"
"Yeah, baby," he said aloud, his hands quick to strain the unbuttoning of his shirt. And to himself he muttered, You bitch!
"Steve, darling," she pleaded, her fingers again eagerly fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
Steve suddenly twisted his head toward the clock on the mantel, glanced quickly to the door, and a panic nudged him. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer against this love-starved wildcat.
"Steve?" she questioned. "You're acting so strangely. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he lied. "Nothing at all."
Steve stared down at Mildred, the way she tugged at his shirt, her eyes wantonly pleading for a quick fulfillment. Steve suddenly applied his hands to her breasts, his thumbs scraped the nipples until she winced in pain.
"You're hurting me, Steve!"
"I don't want to hurt you," he soothed falsely. "I'd rather play a delightful little Dolly game with you."
Mildred looked up at him, perplexed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's really fun," he grinned, bringing her hands down. Mildred did not turn out to be as co-operative as Dolly had been and Steve grabbed her.
Mildred looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and revulsion. "What the hell do you think I am?" she asked angrily.
Steve smiled. "Mildred, baby," he mocked, "we both know damned well what you are! Now be a good girl and play the Dolly-game."
Mildred attempted to extricate herself. "Let go of me, I'm leaving!"
"But it's rude to leave before the game's over," Steve grinned.
"You rotten sonuvabitch!" Mildred screeched.
A cruelty new to Steve dominated him, goading him with sudden erotic lust, and he angrily pinned her arms beneath his knees. Immune to her pathetic squealing, his hands caught the hair at her neck and forced her face up toward him.
Mildred whimpered and twisted, attempting to escape the pressures of his strong hands.
Mildred grew suddenly still and her eyes flared up at Steve. "You bastard," she whined.
Steve suffered a moment of shame and a sanity re-turned to him. He was about to release her when he sensed her concession. The fire in him mounted and he clenched his teeth.
Exhausted, Mildred rolled away from Steve, caught at her ragged breath and fixed him with icy glare. "You bastard," she hissed. "Now are you satisfied?"
Steve eased himself off the bed. He heard the foot-steps outside his door and he breathed easier. He offered Mildred an apologetic smile. "Not quite. Now I just want to look at you."
"Look at me?" Mildred dumbfounded.
"Yeah," Steve gloated. "To see what a snake really looks like."
Tommy Crandon burst through the doorway and stopped short, eyes bulging at the cringing nude form of Mildred. "What the hell," Tommy gasped.
"You bastard!" Mildred spit out at Steve, lunging for the towel to cover herself.
Steve backhanded her high across the face, forcing her back onto the bed. "What's the rush?" he scowled down at Mildred. "I'm sure Tommy has seen you before in your favorite business suit."
Steve fought back an urge to hit her again. He started to turn to Tommy when the unexpected happened, something definitely not in his well-laid plans.
Tommy unleashed a solid right to Steve's jaw. Steve felt his knees buckle, his brain go numb, and he hit the floor.