Chapter 4
Diana's outfit was known as Sunnical Tours. It consisted of an office on Beverly Boulevard near Vermont-a single-story stucco building with a service area and garage in back; two medium-sized busses of 1958 vintage; contractual relations with several live-wire travel agencies and some middle class hotels; and a sizeable portion of good will, built up over a period of seventeen years.
There were three employees-the two tour guides who ran the busses and a girl who covered the office.
The girl was Eleanor Tilson, and I would have laid eight to five, the minute I met her, that she was nympho. When Diana introduced us that afternoon, Eleanor's gray-green eyes flashed me a "welcome, stranger" look that could hardly have been mistaken. She was ash blonde, fairly tall, and built for action. Her form had none of the heaviness that marked Diana's, and she had at least a ten-year age advantage on her boss. I looked her over quickly and filed her for future reference.
Then Diana and I retired to the private office in the rear half of the small building. There was already a spare desk in it, which I assumed Diana might have used when her husband was alive and running the show. Now it was pushed against the wall. The place was neat, paneled in pine and furnished in metal and plastic. There was a man's picture on the wall, which I took to be her husband's.
Di got out the firm's account books, and we sat side-by-side on a short green couch and went over them. She answered all my questions frankly.
The girl, Eleanor, made four hundred a month and the drivers each drew six-fifty. Diana's take had fluctuated all the way from a high of a thousand to as little as three hundred in some months. That's the way it goes when you run a business of your own-the help has to be paid first, then the other bills, and the owner takes what's left after allowances are made for reserves. In the case of Sunnical Tours, the reserves were in the form of the physical assets which could be mortgaged to meet emergencies or for purchases of new equipment.
The books showed cash on hand of only eight hundred twenty dollars, thirteen cents. It was obvious that the business had been lean and getting leaner. Diana's decision to sell out had been an understandable one.
"What do you think?" she asked me finally.
"I think we should take Zimmer's offer," I said. "If we mortgage the properties, we're flat on our back. What if the promotional gamble doesn't pay off? I think it will. If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have been interested in the deal at all. But what if it doesn't? We ought to maintain some kind of reserve."
"I still want to think about it," she said.
"Sure." I hesitated for a few seconds, then hit her with: "Speaking of being flat, that's the state I'm in right now. How are chances for a little advance? A hundred-fifty, maybe?"
She didn't flinch. "You're a partner, darling." It was the first time she'd used a term of endearment with me. She picked up the checkbook.
"Thanks, Di," I said. "You're a damn good scout."
She smiled at me as she made the check out. "Can't you do better than that? Scout isn't a very warm word."
"You're a sweetheart, then. How about that?"
"Much better," she said, and signed the check.
By the next morning, everything had worked out the way I'd hoped it would. Diana had given me a grudging okay on the deal with Zimmer, stipulating only that our office not be involved directly in the prostitution end of the business.
"As you said, we'll just furnish transportation," she told me. "We don't have to know why the men want to take the out-of-town tours."
"I guess not," I said, knowing damned well that it couldn't really be worked that way.
Whoever was at the front counter would have to know the score and would have to discuss it with the clients. After all, guys weren't going to walk in and sign up with us without being assured of what was waiting for them at the end of the ride. That was where Eleanor Tilson came in.
But I figured I could handle her, so there seemed to be no point in further argument with Diana. The main thing was that Diana had okayed the deal; how we ran it was going to be my responsibility.
We made a quick trip to see Diana's lawyer-a fat little man with an office on Olympic Boulevard. After we'd explained the partnership setup to him without mentioning Zimmer's special angle, of course-he said he'd have the papers drawn up and ready by four o'clock.
Then I phoned Zimmer from a booth. I told him everything was set, and we made a date to get together that night at Diana's place to close the deal. Zimmer said he'd bring a cashier's check for the twenty-five grand.
I figuratively rubbed my hands in satisfaction as I rejoined Diana in the car. I'd come a long way in less than forty-eight hours. Talk about a promotion! I said to myself. Who was that guy named Barnum, anyhow?
"Where to, darling?" she asked, as I got into the Buick.
She probably wanted me to suggest that we kill a few hours in her bedroom. But I had something else to work on-namely, Eleanor.
I said, "Why don't you run on home, or go shopping or something? I want to camp in the office for a while and see how things go."
"I can be there with you," she said.
"If you'd rather," I told her, "but actually it won't be necessary. I just want to familiarize myself with the routine operation, see the way the girl handles the clients, and meet the drivers when they come in."
She shrugged. "All right. It's going to be nice, as a matter-of-fact, not being tied down to that place all the time."
"I should think you'd like it," I agreed. "Of course, it will all depend on the money. But there'll be plenty rolling in as soon as Zimmer's pandering setup takes hold, to say nothing of what we're going to make on the other new tours."
"I hope so, Jack," she said.
"It's as good as in the bank," I told her.
When I got to the office, I didn't go into the back room but sat right behind the counter at a spare desk next to Elbe's. A few people drifted in and signed up for the stars-and-studios tours; other reservations came in by phone from the agencies. But, all in all, it was pretty slow.
I met the drivers-or spielers, as they're called in the business. One was a short, gray-haired man in his fifties named Hank Shelby; the other was younger thin and dark-complexioned, with hawk-like features and went by the name of Ted Price.
The busses pulled up at the white-marked curb in front of the office just before each tour was due to start, and a few people boarded there. Eleanor explained that most of the clients got on at the various hotel stops. The busses went directly to the hotels from the office, then headed for Hollywood and points west. After each tour was over, the bus circled the hotel route again, dropping the customers off.
During the course of the morning, Ellie and I got acquainted. At lunch time, Ted Price relieved her for a half-hour and we walked to a restaurant on Vermont. Over steak sandwiches I furthered the getting-acquainted process, putting it on a little more personal basis.
When she felt, I guess, that it was safe to do so, Ellie brought up something that had evidently been bothering her:
"You've never been around before, Jack." (I'd told her to call me by my first name; the mister jazz had never cut any ice with me.) "How come you bought in?" She added, "If I'm out of line asking, just say so."
I gave her my most engaging smile. "Diana needed a hand to help run things. She figured I could build up the business."
"It could use it," Ellie remarked.
I'd been reading the warm, inviting look in her eyes, and I'd noticed the way she seemed to preen for me. The girl didn't have too much chest-but, then, boobies aren't everything. Her legs were slim and long and she had a delectable behind-pouting, elongated buttocks that switched nicely inside her belted shift. She was delightfully ungirdled.
When we were sipping our second round of coffee, I decided to feel her out on the new deal: "You know, a business like Simmcal has possibilities that lots of people might not think of."
"Really?" she said, bending slightly to sip from her cup.
A short lock of her brownish blonde hair had an intriguing way of falling close to one eye every once in a while. I kept imagining how she'd look when her hair was really mussed up.
"For example," I went on, "there are certain offbeat attractions that out-of-towners would like to latch onto but which aren't included in a normal sight-seeing tour."
She looked at me closely. "Now you've got my interest aroused."
"By the way, Ellie-do you have a boy friend?"
"Why, Jack!" I could tell by the. way she'd brightened that she was glad I'd asked.
"Well, do you?"
"Nobody special," she said, obviously waiting for me to go on.
"Maybe you'd have dinner with me after work tonight," I suggested. "We could talk a little about some changes that are coming up in the business."
"Well, sure."
After we got back to the office, I went into the rear room and phoned Diana's apartment. Luckily I caught her at home.
"Well, are you learning a lot?" she asked me.
"I'm getting the drift," I said. Then: "Look, honey, there's a little personal matter I've got to take care of this evening-a deal I had on the string before I met you. Can I beg off on our dinner date tonight?"
She said slowly, "I suppose so."
"I wouldn't do this if it wasn't necessary, sweet. Why don't you pick up the papers at the lawyer's office and later fix yourself some dinner. I'll be over just before eight. Zimmer isn't due to show up until then."
"All right, Jack," she said. She added softly, "I'm going to miss you."
Good Lord, I thought, but women get possessive!
It bothered her to have me out of her sight for even a few hours. Well, that was part of the cross I had to bear in the deal, I supposed. Considering the advantages I was gaining from the partnership, it wasn't too high a price to pay.
I assured her that I would miss her, as well.
"Tell me one thing, darling," she said. "Does this personal matter of yours involve a male or female?"
"I think he's ambivalent," I told her. "But our dealings never reached a sexual plane."
"I hope not," she said. "Anyway, I'm sure you're not that kind. So I'm relieved."
"Good! See you at eight, sweetheart."
"At eight."
I made a kissing sound at the telephone and hung up.
It wasn't difficult maneuvering my way into Eleanor Tilson's apartment that evening. And I figured it would be just about as easy maneuvering my way into Eleanor.
We had left the office at five o'clock sharp, had driven in her car to a restaurant on Sunset, then had gone to her place on Normandie after I'd told her I didn't care to discuss business details in public.
I think she would have been as quick to let me come up if I'd just said I wanted to use the telephone. She was a real ready girl, that one. It was there in her eyes, for any man who was hip enough to read it.
The only thing that bothered me was that I didn't have much time to operate, and I wanted to cover as much ground with Ellie as I could. I had decided the best bet was to get good and cozy with her first, and then to slip her the scoop on the Zimmer deal. I figured she'd be happy to go along-once we were on an intimate basis-and when I offered her an extra hundred bucks a month.
But, as I said, time was short. It was already twenty minutes to seven when we stepped into her furnished single, and I'd promised Diana I would meet her at eight o'clock. That didn't leave much time for a buildup.
Remember Jack Bartley's course in girlsmanship?
It's time for another lesson. This one we'll call How to Get In and Get Out in a Hurry, or something equally appropriate. Watch closely, now:
As soon as the door snicked closed, I said, "Well, we have just about an hour before I have to leave to meet a new backer for the business."
Elbe frowned faintly. "An hour?"
"Mm-hmm. An hour is a fairly long time, if you look at it in a certain way. I mean, a lot can be done in an hour if a person makes the best possible use of it. On the other hand, if you waste it, it will disappear before you hardly know it's gone."
She sat down beside me on the couch. "What are you saying, Jack?"
I gave her a steady look. "That we shouldn't waste it. It would be a sin."
She inched closer. "I don't want to waste it. Heaven knows that."
"We have a business matter to discuss," I said, drawing a bead on her wide mouth, which was the color of cotton candy. "But that can come later, I think."
"What ... should come first?" she asked tremulously, tilting those cotton-candy lips up toward me.
"We should, chickie," I said, and with that I went for the kiss.
Her lips were sweet-tasting-sweeter than cotton candy and a lot more stimulating. I drew on them, my own lips pulsating gently, and gradually her lips came apart. I pressed my tongue between them.
Ellie reacted as if I had jabbed her with a high voltage wire. She started to tremble and she pressed her body against me. At the same time, her arms took hold around my back.
From that point on, it was just a matter of doing what I wanted to. Actually, this wasn't much of a test, because Ellie had been waiting for me to make a move. When I said we had only an hour, she obviously became as anxious to make good use of those sixty golden minutes as I was.
Nympho? No doubt about it.
"Oh, wow!" she breathed when I finally released her. "You can really kiss!"
"That isn't all," I said.
She shoved a long, warm thigh up against me. "You mean there's more?"
"Kissing's for kids. I got out of school a long time ago."
Her eyes smoldered naughtily. "Well, just what do you suggest?"
"For a starter, why don't we get out of our clothes?"
"Mr. Bartley!" she said playfully. "You've shocked me!" Her smile asked for more.
"That was nothing," I said. "Wait until I really get started."
She stood up and swayed in front of me. There was lots of girl there to explore. "This getting out of our clothes bit," she said. "Just how should we do that, do you suppose? I mean, who undresses who? Or is it whom?"
"You worry about grammar. I just want to get nude." I stood up and took her in my arms.
"Tiger!" she squealed, as I pinched her clothing at either side and began to pull it up.
"Why don't we do one another," I suggested, as I reached under her dress and slip.
"Oh, that's a peachy idea," she said, rubbing her chest back and forth against mc.
That was when I discovered that she wasn't wearing a brassiere. Her flippers really flipped, if you know what I mean. And there was more there than I'd thought. That loose-fitting dress of hers just didn't do justice to her busties' at all.
"I'll take off one thing," I said, "and you take off one." I had hold of her bare thighs at the back, just above the tops of her stockings.
"Great!" she exclaimed.
"I have first dibs," I told her, and brought my hands up onto the nylon-sheathed cheeks of her fanny.
Now, I'm a guy who happens to believe that fanny feeling is great sport at any time and under all conditions. The barer the girl is, however, the more exciting it becomes-at least, down to the final sheer article of clothing. Then it is problematical whether the fanny is more exciting with that single article on it, or with nothing on it at all.
Eleanor's fanny felt good with just a pair of sleek silken panties between the rounded, firm, springy flesh and my fingers. The nylon slid against her loaf-like buttocks as I rubbed my hands back and forth and around. Then I grabbed hold tight, one hemisphere firmly settling in each palm, and I shook them up and down.
"Oh, God!" Ellie said, her own hands fluttering down my front.
I reached up to catch the elastic at the top of her pants and pulled it downward, just as her hands completed their southern journey. We busily became acquainted with one another.
Her pants were the first garment that came off.
I worked them down to her knees, and gravity took them the rest of the route. She kicked the pale peach-colored undies away.
When you have a girl pantsless and braless (which Ellie was to begin with,) the battle's over. Not that it had been any battle with Ellie, at all, of course. I think she would have skinned out of everything if I'd just whistled.
"It's my turn," she said, but she continued to maintain a frying-pan hold on me.
So I backed away, breaking the hold.
"Oh," she pouted.
"Patience," I said, and held my arms out a ways from my sides.
She slipped off my coat.
"My turn, again," I told her.
I removed her belt and then lifted her dress over her head.
Ellie's nipples were a delicate light brown, and they sat pertly atop her gently-curved, pale-white breasts. As she took off my tie, I busied myself with the pinching of those light-brown tips, hardening them nicely.
I lowered her half slip, then straightened up.
"This isn't fair," she complained as she stepped up against me and went to work on the buttons of my shirt. "You had so much more on than I did."
By that time, I wasn't very anxious to keep up the patter. The sight I'd had when Id removed Ellie's slip had been too enticing. I said, as I held her bare buttocks in my hands and rolled them back and forth, "Why don't you let me throw off the rest of my things?"
"All right," she agreed, pulling my shirt out and getting the final button. "But I want to do this right now." Suddenly she wasn't standing in front of me any longer.
As I got out of my shirt, she had opened up a second front, so to speak, and was engaged in an effort of liberation. The effort was quickly successful.
As she enjoyed herself-and brought a great deal of warm, throbbing pleasure to me, at the same time I satisfied a curiosity I'd had: I found out what her bair looked like when it was really mussed. As I did the mussing, I had a good view of it, from the top.
When the time was right, I eased her over onto the rug, shucked down the rest of my clothes, and covered her sleek golden body with my own. She still had her stockings and garter belt on, but they didn't bother me in the least. In fact, I kind of like to ball a chick that way. Especially when the chick is as long-limbed and tender as Eleanor Tilson.
I stroked and kneaded her pliable breasts, then began to kiss the firm little buds. They puckered nicely against my lips and tongue.
"Here, Jack," Ellie murmured, her hands describing circular patterns on the inner slopes of her voluptuous, parted thighs.
But I passed up the opportunity. I'm a little particular about some things. I mean, Ellie was okay and all that, but she'd been too easy. Since she'd been that way with me, I knew good and well she was the same with others. Hell, she might even have been breached by some other stud that very morning.
"Damn you," she complained, as I continued to center my oral attentions on her breasts and didn't respond to the invitation she'd offered.
But she got over her pique quickly.
I drove it out of her, quite literally, in just a few moments. Then we were both happily in motion. She was very lean and lithe, her body as limber as a fine young willow tree.
I pumped up and down as she gasped over and over again and tossed her tousled head against the carpet. Once I ran my hands into those ash blonde waves and mussed them some more, then grabbed a tight hold on her head, plastering my mouth to hers and plunging my tongue into her in the very same rhythm I was applying elsewhere.
This helped speed things up for both of us. Pretty soon she was emitting a frantic, high-pitched mewing, and then her body began to tighten.
I hammered her mercilessly, and she cried out as she finally fell backward over the cliff of sweet release. I followed her down, both of us landing in a haystack made of cotton.
We continued to lie side by side for awhile., petting, and it was then that I brought up the matter I had wanted to discuss with her:
I said, "There's sure as hell nothing that's as much fun as sex."
"Sure as hell," she echoed in a breathless murmur, between breathless kisses of my cheek.
"I think everybody should have that fun, wherever they can find it, don't you?"
"Mmm ... I'm all for it," she agreed.
"Even if it's on a ... uh, professional basis?"
She stopped petting me and kissing me and looked me in the face. "What do you mean?"
Then I told her about Zimrner's scheme, the part she would have to play in it, and the extra hundred a month I was prepared to give her for her trouble.
"I'll do it for you, Jack," she said, gently.
I wasn't sure whether it was for me as much as for the hundred, but either way the result was going to be the same.
"You're a good girl," I said, running a hand down her body and fluffing her hair gently with my fingertips.
"If you really think so," she replied, pulling at me, "you'll prove it again."
"But, honey, I have to have a breather," I protested. "Anyway, like I said, we only have an hour and ... "
"Don't worry about that," she said, stifling my half-voiced argument. Then, quick as a bunny, she changed positions.
In no time at all, she had accomplished a remarkable feat of reconstruction, after which the two of us set about to tear the re-built monument down again.