Chapter 10
THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN A RATHER tired Connie released an equally tired Clem from his bonds, there were bound to be a few arguments. She had decided to tell him exactly what she had been doing and trust that the curious nature of the masochist would twist and readjust the facts to suit the purpose.
Tearing the bedclothes off the mattress, he turned it over so that she could he on it and fussed around her asking her what she wanted to do for the day. "Sleep," she replied wearily.
It was good to lie down after the exhausting night she had given herself. She and Darry had managed to use all the dildos, even the two-headed one that they could use together, before they had collapsed.
She determined that there would be no half-measures in her relationship with Clem; there was no room for them.
"Ring the service bell, Clem."
He looked startled for a moment and then walked over to the wall and pressed it.
"Put your shirt on and a dressing gown and tell the chambermaid that we want breakfast and a new room."
"Certainly, dear."
Pulling on his trousers, wincing when he bent forward, he congratulated himself on finding Connie. This girl is one in a million, he exulted.. .something that he had been looking for for a long time. Someone to order Mm about ... make him do menial tasks that would previously have made him furious.
She lay there half asleep, too tired to move, only the thought of a large cup of strong black coffee keeping her awake.
They didn't speak for a few minutes, the only sound the clink and scrape of Clem's razor as he shaved.
There was a knock at the door and Clem spoke rapidly in French for a moment before closing it again.
"What did you say to her?" asked Connie.
Exactly what you wanted me to," he replied. "I've asked for another room-and some breakfast to wait for us there."
"That's good," she answered drowsily.
The telephone shrilled at her side and Clem picked it up and began talking loudly, an imperious note coming into his voice. After a few minutes he put it down, a pleased smile coming over his face.
"Why the smile?" she asked.
"They're giving us the bridal suite."
The new room was much larger and had a little alcove set in one wall that had a small table in it
Their breakfast was ready, the coffee pot steaming and wafting toward their inquisitive nostrils.
Breakfast over, about half an hour later they set off in a car that Clem had hired. They drove out to Fontainbleu and the whole day passed like a dream. Clem had been marvelously attentive, pointing out all the things she should remember, and generally being helpful.
In the evening he took her on a tour of all the night clubs they could manage. Eventually they found a small club with an interesting atmosphere and a show to match.
"Everything okay?" he asked kindly.
"Lovely! I can't wait for the show to start."
"It won't be long now."
Clem eased himself forward in his chair. A vision of whirling limbs and lace, taut suspenders and flashing thighs, of bouncing breasts and straining muscles-the can-can!
Up went their legs and up flew their skirts. The whole stage thundered with their crashing feet, the shrieks grew to a crescendo as one by one they ran forward and crashed down into a final split that echoed round the room.
"Thank God I don't have to do that for a living," Connie breathed.
Clem read from the program, "The chair," a perplexed expression on his face.
There was no announcement when the curtain slid back and showed a chair in the middle of the stage, and nothing else to suggest what its purpose was.
"This is Vanda," a voice in the background said.
A drum beat, the flute quavered and she advanced slowly toward the chair, the spotlight a pool around her feet. She was dressed entirely in a one-piece gray metal suit, the pants of which were absolutely skintight, the top half a little looser.
Resting her hand on the back of the chair, and turning her head slowly in time to the music, she faced them with closed eyes. Slowly raising her leg, she extended it until it was horizontal to the seat, and then lowered it to the other side. She was straddling it now, her hips moving in time to the music. Still moving her hips, she lowered herself on to the seat. Her bust was thrown into relief and a gasp came from the audience as she suddenly clutched them through the material and fiercely, with trembling fingers, squeezed them.
She seemed tense, a carefully contrived shiver that shook her, when she finally unzipped the jacket.
The front gaped open and her breasts, white in their black net bra, were half exposed. She gradually worked the two halves off until with a soft rustle they fell to her elbows. Arching her back and thrusting out her breasts, she shook them while she unzipped the sleeves.
A sudden flurry of movement and she had twisted the chair around until the back was facing the audience with wide apart legs. Sitting up and breathing deeply, she leaned forward until her breasts were over the back, exposed nearly to the nipple.
She raised one leg and reached forward until she found the zip at her ankle and smoothly drew it toward her.
The other zip was drawn back and both legs were now completely naked. She winked at the audience as she undid the catch to her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
The drum beat faster, as her hips bucked, her heels were off the floor and little passionate cries escaped from her. In a frenzy she socked her hips forward, the movement almost a blur in the harsh spotlight, until with a scream, she became absolutely rigid, her breasts rising and falling with lust as she appeared to have a powerful orgasm. A final clatter from the drums and the spotlight went out end the curtains drew across.
Clem was interested in meeting Vanda. Slipping the head waiter some money, he spoke to him rapidly in French and then turned to Connie.
"He says he thinks she has to go to another club, but he'll try in any case."
Anxiously she watched the door at the side of the stage. It was quite possible she could be persuaded to go back with them. Connie had plans for Vanda.
Clem's voice broke her train of thought. "Here she is," he said suddenly.
He stood up, pulled out a chair for her and introduced Connie. Instantly Connie knew that Vanda was something out of the ordinary. She had a trick of smiling out of half-closed eyes and touching her tongue against her teeth.
"I'm flattered-why?" she asked, spreading her arms.
"We enjoyed your act so much we thought we'd like to thank you personally," answered Connie.
"You are looking for the night-life, yes?"
"We are," replied Connie quickly.
"And would you like me to show you what there is?"
"If it can be arranged," Clem answered diffidently.
In less than five minutes they had roughly mapped out a campaign. Vanda suggested two or three places that they definitely must see, laughing delightedly when they concurred.
Paying the bill while the two women made plans, Clem began to feel that every minute of the journey had been worth while.
"Are you ready, Clem?" asked Connie.
"And willing."
Unconsciously he had given some indication of his frame of mind. "And willing" was just about how he felt.
It was about eleven o'clock when they stood outside. Vanda, a little taller than Connie, smiled as he dusted a speck of cigarette ash off her shoulder, and thanked him gracefully. Running her hand viciously across his back, Connie watched him wince as he returned Van-da's smile.
A cab drew up and they climbed in, Connie whispering in his ear as he bent down.
"Of course it hurt," he replied, wincing as she did it again.