Chapter 9
The last show was finished and Jerry English was turning the pictures of Terry Anson-gleaned earlier in the day-over in his mind. All evening long, she'd been flashing him looks which, knowing first-hand about her inventiveness, had him wondering what she was cooking up. He took a few moments to talk with the bass player. There were new arrangements which needed to be completed in the next few days. Jerry had them all but finished-he used his complete scoring for piano parts-and Don usually copied the score for the other instruments, individually, from Jerry's original.
As the bass man departed and Jerry stacked the music to put into the cases he kept the book in (he refused to leave scores on the piano because you could lose them too easily like that) Terry eased her luscious body alongside the grand, resting an elbow on the top.
"Had a thought about an arrangement on an old oldie I'd like to expose you to," she said. "Think you're in the mood-tonight?" He grinned down at her.
"Well," he said with an exaggerated air of indecision . : .
"We could go up to my place for a hot snack...." Jerry held up a hand, palm out.
"Say no more, belter," he said, fondly, "you just sold me."
"I'm no belter," she protested, joining his badinage, "I are a chanteuse, pure and simple." As Jerry opened his mouth to reply, she put a hand against his chest, warning him in mock severity: "And no cracks about any of it, you hear?"
Jerry chuckled and patted her cheek.
"I wasn't referring to music," he said. "I understand Alice Carrol barged into your dressing room and ended up with lumps."
"Oh ... that nothing broad! I should have broken her jaw. You tell me how to dope that girdle full of squirrels-you don't know what happened the day I came to work here, do you?"
"I don't know nothin' past that pit," Jerry grinned. "Works out better that way, mostly."
"Well, I was talking with John in the office and Miss Antsie Pants comes prissing into the office, unannounced and no-knock. Just like tonight. It happened that the boss was completing a short pass-nothing, really-and it lit her fuse. She blew the situation up into a major catastrophe."
"And you had nothing to do with it," Jerry stated, grinning.
"Nothing, whatsoever," Terry retorted, imitating his inflection and returning his grin. "If I had, little Miss Snot-nose would have busted her bustle, this I'll guarantee you."
"That I'll buy, too," Jerry chortled.
"Anyhow, tonight she comes on like outraged virtue, accusing me of chasing her husband-meaning like I'm breaking up her marriage-and everybody I've talked to in the club has filled me in on her tall, blond boy friend with the king-size muscles and, I guess, all the goodies. Further, everybody I've talked to told me John was no chaser-and that includes the kids here. So, the only conclusion I can jump to is that John knows the story, too. Or, having verified the story, he's faced her with the facts and she's got the nervous trots, now. John's going to get the bill for cleaning my blue evening gown, too. The stupid sow threw Scotch all over the front of it!"
Jerry shrugged and tried to think of something other than the picture of Terry in John's arms. It didn't please him-he didn't dwell on the fact that he'd probably shared every woman he'd ever known with other studs-suddenly, he felt his love-life lacked something; especially in this new-found delight in Terry Anson. She was the type of girl who liked her kicks where she found them and with the delights it was obvious Terry offered, she'd have no trouble finding them, most anywhere. The realization caused a sudden sting of annoyance to flare in Jerry English. As he put Terry into the car and went around to get under the wheel, the realization came that something serious seemed to be growing, in his mind, around the fascinating person of Terry Anson. He wondered, as he keyed the engine to life, if that was a good idea....
John Carrol was submerged in and inflamed by Normy Blake. The opportunity for which he'd planned, had seemed, earlier, to be lost beyond reclaim. Now, despite the delight she was creating for him, John was having some difficulty in adjusting, mentally, to the rapid alteration of circumstances and atmosphere. Even with Norma captured by his hungry embrace, he struggled to align himself with what was happening.
Norma's softness was like a sweet, haunting melody which wound about him firmly, yet tenderly. Like the continual winding of tiny, silken threads, he felt himself growing more helpless in the thrall of her sweet allure. The more the outpouring of affection grew, the closer he pressed to her, physically and mentally; the more breathlessly inescapable she became--but he had no slightest wish to escape.
John's experience with women was not wide enough for him to quickly assess his reactions to Norma. He only knew that the sweetness, agonizing, almost in its sharp and thrilling possession of him, was like nothing he'd ever known before.
And, it was not all the softness of her avid lips, the hungry swell of her breasts against the filmy gown, the urgency of her lovely arms about his neck, pressing her beautiful body ever closer to him. There was a far more exciting and emotionally satisfying mystery which was involved in the beauty which had opened to him and wrapped itself about him.
Norma had offered herself, lovingly, completely in a moment of perfection. Her act had generated the atmosphere in which their bodies and minds floated; had directed the course of their lovemaking. The faint, filtered glow of almost-light which crept into the room created more shadow then illumination so that everything seemed unreal and illusionary ... except the warm and delightful woman who shared the shuddering delights they were inducing in each other.
Her mouth, warm, eager and soft, was pressed to his and he repeatedly trembled at the sensations her pointed tongue evoked in him as she savored him. He could feel the swelling of the firm breasts and the increase of their pressure against his chest. John ached to touch her everywhere ... caress the excited breasts and find with loving and worshipful fingertips every hollow, curve, swell and plane which was Norma Blake. He wanted to touch her, endlessly and, as he touched, to kiss everywhere his fingers left love. All his conscious desire was focused in the sharp, hot want to give her every motion, action and pleasure that love could give.
His hungry hand found the swell of her bosom, caressed its turgid, perfect swell; toyed with the quickly-hardening tip. He felt the trembling of her lips, at his caress, and a new, vigorous wave of sensation rushed over him. No move Norma made failed to induce new wonder and new delight in John's singing body and as she transported him, his mind reeled with the wonder of how this could be. What was the mysterious property the body and the mind of this woman possessed that the tightening of a muscle here or the touch of her tongue there could raddle him with unbearable and delightful sensation? A gasping sob escaped John as Norma's hand fell to the task of urging him out of the little clothing he wore.
He was never conscious of their figures separating but was aware, at length, that the heated nakedness of their bodies was pressed and stretched tightly and hungrily together. As the hunger and the wonder drove John, he caressed, with his lips, Norma's ears and throat and cheeks. She uttered tiny, pleading sounds as he offered her caresses he had often thought of but seldom given to any of the few women he'd known. Norma shuddered and her back arched in delightful spasm as John's seeking lips found her breasts.
Then came the realization that Norma was urging him, with hands and body, gently, to cover her hungry beauty with the eager tenderness with which they were pressed, side-by-side, and he did. As she ardently accepted the bulk of him upon her and lashed him to her with the tender, urgent bonds of arms and legs, he shuddered in repeated delight. It seemed that nothing in existence could be superior to the filling, surging pleasure which racked him but Norma's aura of sweetly imperative desire drew him closer and closer until he felt the ultimate delight of her brush him with soft fire. Amazed, then, John knew her in the full of her desire as, with body and limbs, she writhed and tensed and drew upon him until she accomplished her own possession in sobbing, gasping delight and John was paralyzed in the continuing and growing wonder of this woman.
By now, John had lost all sense of time. How long they remained, thus, caught in the pulsing snare of their love, he had no way of knowing. Then he felt Norma move beneath him and read her message in the small action and himself moved to taste the complete gift of her. Then they were winnowing out the pure, sparkling ecstasy of each other on pinions which pulsed and lifted and swelled them until they touched the zenith of their flight and touched and brushed and crushed and burst together in crying spasms and tumbling wonder and soaring ecstasy....
When John awoke, light was streaming in slender bands through the blinds at the window. He felt as though the miseries through which he had passed these last few days had never happened. He turned his head to the picture of Norma's nude beauty, lying gracefully in slumber beside him and knew that, whatever had gone before, the confusion and the indecision in his life was the result of one lack-the magical perfection of this wonderful woman. John's problem was resolved. He must put an end to his life with Alice-at once....