Chapter 6
THE business with the rental agent had been a real hassle. Francie was already a month behind in her rent and knew she wouldn't be able to carry the two-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment. His name was Grant and his early morning call had roused her from a deep, badly needed sleep.
He called to make an appointment with her for late in the morning, around eleven. He'd wanted her to come to his office. But she was mad because he'd awakened her in the first place and she refused to go anywhere. If he wanted to talk to her he'd have to come to the apartment.
She'd dropped back to sleep right after the call and came awake again at the insistent knocking on the door. She stumbled out of bed and was halfway to the door when she remembered the robe. She went back to the bedroom and pulled a robe out of the closet.
As robes go it wasn't much. The material wasn't heavy enough to be warm when the weather was cold and was too transparent to hide any of her charms. But it was a token effort in favor of the cultural morality.
"All right! I'm coming already!" she shouted, slipping her arms into the sleeves and belting the robe loosely about her waist as she hurried to the door.
"I was asleep," she said sullenly as she pulled the door open to admit Mr. Grant.
He hurried busily into the room without really looking at her. "We had an eleven o'clock appointment," be said over his shoulder "It's ten minutes after eleven. I've been knocking on that door for the whole ten minutes."
He walked directly to the sofa and sat down without even being asked. It was then that she saw him really for the first time. He was a skinny little man, bald, fifty-ish, with steel-rimmed glasses and a matching vest under the jacket of his suit.
When he saw her his eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped for a second, and he had a coughing fit. She went over to him and pounded his back until the coughing stopped. There were tears in his eyes when he looked up at her again.
"Look, can you wait five minutes more?" she asked.
"I just woke up and I want to wash my face and comb my hair. Then I'll make a pot of coffee and we can sit and talk like two intelligent people."
She was back in the bedroom before he had a chance to answer And she'd left the bedroom door about halfway open. She had had him pegged from the moment she saw the look on his face. She was willing to bet that right then he was looking at the partially opened door and dying to get up and walk through it into the bedroom. But he wouldn't have the nerve to pick himself up from the sofa.
She did indeed wash her face and comb her hair. She also brushed her teeth and put on some make-up. While she did all these things she tried to make up her mind what she wanted trom this little man. He didn't seem to be the type who would accept a permanent arrangement of rent payments in trade; and she wasn't sure she'd be willing to start something like that with him.
No. It would be better for everyone if she moved out. But there was the matter of a lease with a year and a half left to run. If she moved out she would be responsible for the rental on the apartment until it was rented again or the lease ran out, whichever happened first. All she wanted from Mr. Grant was a waiver of the month's rent she owed and to be released from the lease.
She finished with her preparations and considered adding, removing, or changing clothing At length she decided to remain just the way she was. Grant looked like the kind of man to whom she would appear more naked dressed this way than if she were completely naked. She dabbed perfume in a few strategic places and swept back into the living room.
He was still sitting on the sofa. And there was stark, naked fear in his eyes when he saw her again.
She smiled sweetly and said, "I feel much better now. Let's start all over again. Good morning."
"Uh ... good morning."
"That's better. Come into the kitchen with me and we can talk while I brew a pot of coffee."
She heard him following her and stopped in the doorway to give him the full effect of the sun behind the diaphanous gown. He swallowed loudly. When he came into the kitchen she almost pushed him into a seat just inside the door. This meant she would be moving back and forth across the brightly lighted window, which would repeatedly turn the nearly transparent gown as clear as window glass.
He didn't say a word for the first couple of minutes as she walked back and forth filling the percolator and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
"You just go right ahead," she urged blithely. "I'm listening."
"Well, uh, it's about the arrears in your rent payments."
"Oh, that."
"Yes."
"Well ... you see ... I simply haven't got any money right now. I just can't pay you. Oh, would you like some orange juice?"
"No thank you."
She sat down two feet away from him and felt his eyes jumping from one point of interest to another. When she crossed her legs the flaps of the robe slid away to bare the top leg almost to her torso and he looked at that, too. Several times he tried to speak but couldn't seem to find his voice.
To Francie this was almost fun. The poor shnook was helpless.
The first sip of scalding coffee seemed to loosen his tongue.
"I'd like to point out," he said. "That you are obligated for the full term of the lease."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that even if you move out the unexpired term of the lease is still in effect. And it is payable upon demand in a lump sum."
"Could you explain that?" she asked, leaning forward so that the bodice of her robe gaped away from her body and bared her already revealed breasts.
He was improving.
He didn't lose his voice that time. He just choked up for a second.
"Well, it works this way," he began, taking out a large yellow pad of paper and a pencil from his brief case. "You signed a two-year lease. That's twenty-four months at two hundred dollars a month. Altogether that comes to forty-eight hundred dollars which you agreed tc pay us over a two-year period."
He was writing figures on the pad and she moved her chair over close to his so she could see what he wrote. They were so close their shoulders almost touched and she intentionally brushed her leg against hie.
"I understand so far," she said. "Go on."
He started to talk again but he wasn't looking at the pad any more. His eyes were glued to her breasts and his nostrils were drinking in the delicate fragrance of the perfume she'd used.
"You owe us forty-eight hundred dollars and you've paid five months' rent, or a thousand dollars. That leaves a balance of thirty-eight hundred dollars. Now, if you moved out today you'd still owe us that thirty-eight hundred dollars."
His voice was on its way to disappearing again.
"But what if someone else rented the apartment the day after I moved out?"
"That doesn't mean a thing. According to the terms of the type of lease you signed you're obligated for the entire sum anyway."
"That sounds like a pretty sneaky thing," she said. "It's not fair."
He cleared his throat "Well, if you didn't like it you shouldn't have signed it."
"Let's forget about me for a minute," she said. "If you were looking for an apartment would you sign a lease like that?"
"Well ... no."
"Then you don't think it's fair, either."
"Not really. But I have no control over that. I just work for the corporation that manages these buildings."
"But it is a dirty, sneaky thing."
"I suppose it is."
"As the agent, couldn't you just rent the place right away without forcing me to pay all that money? I mean, who would know if I was still living here or it someone else were paying the rent."
"No. That's out of the question. I couldn't do that. Besides, there's the month's rent you're already in arrears. What about that?"
"Well, I suppose I could raise that much without too much trouble."
"But I still couldn't let you out of the lease."
"Oh, sure you could And I'd be ever so grateful. If you were nice to me, why, I'd. . . " She left her words hanging in the air like that but he couldn't escape her implied meaning.
He blinked his eyes several times before be spoke again.
"Well, it might be possible. But there's a big risk for me. If the owners ever found out I could lose my job."
She was out of her chair and onto his lap before he quite realized what was happening. And by then it was too late. Her warm, rounded bottom, separated from him only by the layers of cloth of his trousers and the thin wisp of a robe she wore, was resting firmly on his lap Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and his face was only inches away from her magnificent bosom.
She put her lips to his ear and whispered softly "I won't tell a soul. I promise." She let her lips touch against his ear lobe as she talked.
He gave in completely then and put his hands to her hips, his spidery fingers trembling as he let one hand slide down and back to the swell of her buttocks. Her hands behind his head exerted a small amount of pressure and he leaned his face against her breasts.
She moved one hand down to the belt of the robe and opened that, then slipped her arms out of the sleeves and let the top of the garment crumple about her waist. He was like an overeager child searching for hidden candy.
His skinny little hands were too small to fully encompass her large breasts but he did the best he could. He finally managed to get one nipple to his kiss and she almost laughed when he momentarily lost his prize in his fumbling excitement.
But she managed to fight down the laugh and to guide him to the other breast. He was in his glory then, and almost bounced with his eager excitement.
She wriggled away from him then, her robe falling to the floor and leaving her completely bared. He moved half out of his chair after her.
"Not so fast, Grant," she said. "First you fix up that lease, then you can have your fun."
He grabbed the copy of the lease agreement and scrawled across it in ink, "Canceled by Management A.G." The two letters had to be his initials, which made it official as far as she was concerned.
Then he was up out of the chair and moving toward her.
"Take things easy, Grant," she said, backing away from him. "I'm all yours. Everything you see. But let's go into the bedroom, at least."
He nodded his agreement, too excited to speak. She stepped past him and he followed her into the bedroom. She walked slowly, exaggerating her sensuous walk. The white moons of her naked buttocks jiggled and bounced and slid silkenly with each step. Behind her she could hear him panting and gasping for breath.
In the bedroom she stretched out on the circular bed and watched him undress. He never took his eyes off her, as though he were afraid if he looked away she would turn out to be a figment of his imagination. He was skinny, and ugly as hell without his clothes on. He had a paunchy mid-section and stringy muscles and a pitiful mat of gray hair on the middle of his chest.
He went over to the bed, climbed up, and reached immediately for her. She took him in her arms and held him close as her lips again found his ear.
"Take this easy, honey. Make this slow. Make this last a long time. Make this good for me, too."
He put his mouth to her breasts again but there was no improvement in his technique. She sighed and closed her eyes.
"Be nice to me," she murmured. "I won't run away. I want this as bad as you."
Her words seemed to excite him greatly. He grabbed one of her hands and pressed that against his body She could sense that he was very close to ending before he had begun. He needed another shock to slow him down.
She shoved him violently away and rolled from the bed. "There's one more thing," she said, stopping him as he started after her.
"What's that?" he whined.
"The two hundred dollars. I want you to cane that, too."
"Oh, I couldn't do that. I mean, that's cash. I have to make that up out of my own pocket."
"So what! Isn't this worth a lousy two hundred dollars? You can see me. I'm worth that much, at least.'
He was in a pretty poor bargaining position and he knew that.
"Ail right, all right! The two hundred, too!"
"Good, then all you have to do is give me a receipt for last month's rent."
"I don't carry receipts with me."
"Oh no, baby. Pay in advance. And no refunds. I know you've got to have a receipt pad in your brief case. If not you can write one out on a plain sheet of paper."
He climbed off the bed and disappeared through the doorway. When he came back a few minutes later his excitement had subsided somewhat and he was carrying a piece of paper.
"Here," he said bitterly, thrusting the paper at her.
She took it, checked it over, and put it away in the drawer of the bedside table.
"Now come to momma," she crooned, turning back to him and holding out her arms.
She kept the pace slower this time. So far things had worked out perfectly for her. She kept pleading with him to be good to her and to be slow and to be gentle, while in the back of her mind was growing the idea that she might get him to do Schiller's little favorite for her.
She really liked that!
That was almost the greatest thing in the world.
In some ways that was better even than regular love-making. Since the discovery, she'd become devoted to Schiller's delight and she let him please her that way two or three times during every posing session.
Now that the posing sessions were over, she missed him.
And what really puzzled her was how a man could get all his kicks that way Sure, a guy could get a bang out of that once in a while simply because the gal enjoyed herself so much. But Schiller got all his thrills that way and she couldn't quite figure him out. He never even so much as opened his clothes, but when that was over he was just as peaceful and happy and tired as was she
When Grant was placing his face against her breasts she kissed the top of his bald head And he made no protest when she urged him further He willingly kissed her ribs and her flat stomach and her own excitement began to grow.
But he stopped short of making her score a point and tried to get on with the action.
"Not yet," she whispered pleadingly "I'm not ready yet. Kiss me a while longer, honey. Please?"
He bent his lips to her again for a while and kissed all around. Then, he tried once again to further the action.
She pleaded with him once more and he pulled himself angrily away. He crawled up to kneel beside her shoulder and look into her face.
"I know what you want," he said angrily. "And I'm not going to do that. We made a deal. Let's get this over with."
"Honey! Don't you want me to enjoy you too?"
"Sure. Sure I do."
"But that's the only way for me. Unless that's first I don't have any fun at all. I need that to start me off." That was an out-and-out lie. She was already pretty well started. For an awkward and fumbling man, he'd done a serviceable job of preparing her.
Suddenly the old man smiled. The bargaining positions were reversed now and he knew they were.
"I'll do that," he said through his smile. "On one condition."
"Yes?"
"You have to do me first. The same thing."
She'd done that only once before. And that time had been an experiment when she was with Jim. He'd really enjoyed her and she hadn't minded. She'd discovered through that experiment that that gave her no particular pleasure, though.
The idea of obliging this wasted old man was entirely different That horrified her.
"No. I couldn't"
"All right then, let's just finish up here and I'll be on my way."
She hesitated "Wait ... "
She was excited and she knew she would never find fulfillment with him the normal way. Then too, she wanted that special thing very badly.
"You do me first," she told him.
"Oh no! Pay in advance. Remember?"
"All right. But not ... you know .the whole thing. I'll do that for a while but you'll have to keep yourself under control."
He shook his head, glorying in the feeling of triumphant power "All or nothing," he said.
As a clincher to his argument he kissed her as he had before.
"Oh God!" she murmured as the desire over whelmed her. "All right! Hurry I"
He moved toward her on the bed again. She held him with one hand and leaned forward. That didn't take him long But the wave of revulsion which washed over her at his completion almost ruined her own desire. Finally he found the peak, then relaxed.
After a moment he sighed and began his part of the agreement. In seconds she was riding the ever-growing tidal wave of passionate lust as he fulfilled his end of the bargain. She clenched her teeth tightly and whipped her head from side to side, fighting the impending ecstasy to make that last as long as possible.
That was good.
Wonderful...
Magnificent . .
The peak was a jagged ripping of pleasure as her body knew the ultimate joy. Her strong arms held him prisoner for long seconds after the peak passed as she sought every last shred ol pleasure.
Finally she released him.
He rose, dressed, and went into the kitchen to gather the rest of his things together. She lay limp and languid, floating on the gentle sea of after-pleasure. He ruined that for her when he came and stood in the doorway.
"Remember," he said. "You've got until midnight tonight to get moved out of here. Anything left in the apartment after midnight belongs to the corporation."
Then he was gone
She was up out of bed and after him but he'd already made it out into the corridor. Forgetting her nakedness, she followed him.
"You dirty, rotten louse!" she screamed. "You low-life pig!"
"Midnight tonight," he said happily.
One of the other apartment doors opened and she turned to find a ten-year-old boy standing there staring at her She ran back tc her own apartment, breasts bouncing wildly and slammed the door
It took ten minute? for her to cool down enough to realize she had nothing really to be mad at. She'd gotten everything she wanted from him. It had cost her somewhat more than she'd anticipated but it wasn't that bad a deal.
There was still some revulsion when she thought about her active role in a part of the proceedings. But that hadn't been too bad either.
Now she had to figure out somewhere to go and something to do with all her furniture. There was an outside chance Jim would let her move in with him, at least on a temporary basis. In his arms she would enjoy paying the rent.
And he certainly had the room. There was that extra bedroom he had fixed up like an office. She'd long since decided the writer bit was a phony. He was very vague about things of his that had been published and he never showed her anything he had written. But that made sense in light of the hours he supposedly put in working in his apartment. He was never home during the day. And most nights when he said he was working, he wasn't there either.
But she didn't really care what he did for a living. In a strange way, outside of the physical thing, she really liked him. And the love-making with him was terrific. They'd known each other quite a while now but didn't have anything remotely resembling a steady relationship. In fact, in recent months they seemed to have been seeing less of each other. Back in the beginning that had been two and three times a week. Now it averaged once a week that they saw one another. And some of those times they didn't even make love. But he continued to call her and that was a hopeful sign.
She dialed his number and gave up after the tenth ring, wondering where in the world he could be at twelve-thirty in the afternoon after being out all night. She'd called his apartment several times between midnight and dawn and he hadn't been at home. Either that or he wasn't answering his phone, which was highly unlikely.
And she knew of no other place to look for him. His life away from her was a deep dark secret. Well, there were two more chances. The other model, Marge, might be willing to take in a roommate. If that didn't work she was pretty sure she could borrow a little money from Schiller and get him to let her store her furniture in a corner of the big loft-studio. God knows, he had the room. About eighty per cent of that space seemed to go to waste.
But Schiller was a last resort. She still resented the sudden ending of the regular income. He'd explained it all to her and had assured her he would be able to use her for an occasional thing. But there would be no more of that regular money.
She had Marge's phone number written on a piece of paper in her wallet. She got it out and dialed. There were six rings and she was just about ready to give up on Marge too. when the receiver at the other end was lifted.
There was a long silence, then a sleepy, "Hello."
"Marge? This is Francie Jordan. I'm sorry if I woke you up but I've go' a problem."
There was some mumbling, out of which Francie was able to decipher a "Wait a minute."
Then came a loud thunk as the phone was dropped.
The wait seemed ten years long, then Marge was back on the phone, sounding much more alert.
"Francie, what time is it?"
"Almost a quarter of one."
"Oh, I thought it was much earlier."
"Hey Marge, I'm in trouble. I'm a month behind in my rent here and I've got to move out before midnight tonight. I need a place to stay."
"The picture money dried up, huh?"
"Like a mirage in the desert. What do you say, have you got room for me?"
"Well, there's room. But this is no charity ward."
"Oh no. Nothing like that. I figured we could split expenses. Even if I had to take a job I could meet my half, I'm sure."
"Well, under those terms I've got plenty of room. There're two bedrooms here, you know."
"No. I didn't know. The only time I was up there I got too drunk too quick to count bedrooms."
Marge laughed. "You certainly must have been drunk. If I remember right you were in and out of both bedrooms at least twice, each time with a different man."
"I wouldn't know. I couldn't remember the next day, let alone this long afterward. Now, how about your living room?"
"How about it?"
"Well I've got three rooms of furniture here and no place to put them."
"Bring it all over. We'll pool all our stuff, keep the best of it, and get rid of the rest."
"Wonderful ... Oh, there's one more thing."
"What's that?"
"I'm broke. I need the loan of enough cash to get my stuff moved. I can't carry it over there on my back."
"Hold on a minute. You were just talking about splitting expenses and now you want to borrow money."
"All I need is about fifty dollars. And I've still got that much coming from Schiller. It's only for a day or two until he gets his split."
"On, I guess it's all right. Come on over and we'll make the arrangements."
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Pick up a quart of milk on the way, will you? I'm all out and we'll need it for coffee."
"Right."
Francie hung the telephone receiver up slowly. She was relieved to have found a place to live for awhile, but she didn't know for sure how she felt about Marge and the kind of things that went on in her apartment.
That party had been wild, all right, but just what was she letting herself in for? She experienced a moment of self-appraisal that left her frightened and a little sick: She had come a long way from her teenage experiments in love-making, occasional drinks, borrowed cigarettes. What had Schiller done to her and her soul in that foul, littered loft under the lights?
What had she done to herself?
She had become a depraved pleasure-seeker. She could think of few things which she had not done, or which she might object to doing with a man.
Then she shrugged philosophically. She had just become more sophisticated, that was all. She had learned that some of her ideas when she first came to the city were childish. She still had her luscious body, she was still young, and she still had a good long life to live fully.