Chapter 5
To be sure Theodora Ames felt grief at the sudden loss of her parents, but it wasn't a heartfelt anguish. If anything, her first reaction was probably the selfish annoyance that now her life was being disrupted, indeed, the next thought in her pampered mind was, "Why did it have to happen to them right now and inconvenience me like this?" for, if truth be known, she had been counting on going to Europe with them this fall. Now that wouldn't happen again.
And then, almost inevitably, there had come the understanding that she was quite rich, because of course as their only child she was going to inherit all their money. And so while she felt alone and forsaken, she nevertheless revealed once again her fatal selfishness by all those thoughts which concerned themselves with the profit of her parents, death, rather than over the irreplaceable loss . . .
Laurel and Ruby Branton had come to Chicago on the Greyhound bus, after discovering that it was the fastest and also the cheapest way. Ruby's friend had given her the name of a capable lawyer in Chicago who was inclined to gamble if he thought there was a lot at stake, and Ruby was of the firm belief that there was plenty at stake for her and her daughter. Donald Ames had made her a lot of promises, fucked her to a frazzle and then left her pregnant and practically disowned. She even had a couple of old letters of his which, she was certain, ought to be worth something in court. Having lived frugally and having saved up a good deal of money from her occasional helping out at the orgies which the owner of the property staged from time to time with her along as a participant or mistress of ceremonies, Ruby Branton shrewdly figured that she and Laurel could get along in Chicago for a couple of months before they had to worry about pinching pennies. Her suggestion was that Laurel find herself some kind of office job, just to help out and have some extra spending money till this whole affair could be brought to court. Laurel, for her part, agreed. She was fascinated by the Windy City, especially by the Michigan Avenue shops. She also wanted to dress in a way that would play up her charms. And as Ruby herself said, "Won't do you any harm to catch some rich guy, vamp him all you can, and if you have to give him a little pussy do it, but not too much. Once you get the ring on your finger, you can be a rich bitch and never have to worry for the rest of your life. God knows I've invested plenty in you and I'd like to see a little return."
And that was how fate brought Laurel Bran-ton and Jack Lurton together in a most ironic way.
Jack Lurton had had flowers sent over to Theodora Ames's apartment with a note of condolence, but, just about as he had expected, there wasn't any acknowledgement. He just put it down to Theodora's snippiness and selfishness and let it go at that. First of all, he had kept Amy's phone number and in the two weeks which followed the sudden bereavement of the patrician brunette, he had had her over to his apartment two more times. He was more pleased with her than ever, and he was even thinking of setting her up as a permanent mistress, giving her an allowance, getting her out of the business and having her devote her gorgeous body, playful disposition and natural sweetness to him and him alone.
As a matter-of-fact, he had come right out with this just as Amy was dressing to leave on the second visit she had paid him since that unforeseen time, on the night Theodora Ames had rebuffed him so viciously.
"I have to think it over, Jack," she said slowly as she sat on the edge of the bed, tugging up one gauzy nylon on a deliciously curvaceous leg. "I'd certainly like to get out of this business. I'm pretty young, and I've never really had any money of my own, and you're doing me a terrific favor, I know that. But then, when you got tired of me, maybe six months or a year at most you'd just throw me away and I'd have to go back on the street. I really think I ought to try to better myself if I can."
"Don't you see, baby, you won't if you keep on taking just any guy off the street even if your cabdriver friend screens them for you?" he argued." You'll wind up with a dose of clap, or maybe some cop will come up instead of a John and then you'll get six months in the hoosegow and you'll be known to every cop in town. It'll be real tough. Besides, who's talking about throwing you over when we haven't even started, really? But if you're serious about wanting a job or trying to better yourself, maybe I can help there too."
"You mean it?"
"Of course I do, baby. You'd make a sweet receptionist. I don't suppose you can type or do shorthand?"
"I can type a little. I could go to night school and learn shorthand if you think it would help."
"I think it would," he said as he went over to her, leaned forward, cupper her bra-sheened titties and gave her a hard hot kiss on the mouth. "Take your clothes back off, baby. I'm adding an extra thirty because I feel horny again. And of course, if you accepted my offer, you'd stand to lose dough."
"How, darling?"
"Well, it's this way," he grinned as he reached back to unhook her bra and let it fall in her lap. His fingers returned to caressing her swelling titties, playing with the nipples till they darkened and stiffened as he began to kiss her throat and shoulders. "You've got gorgeous skin and it smells so sweet."
"How would I lose money, lover?" she repeated in a soft husky whisper.
"Well now, like this, I'm giving you thirty bucks more for an extra lay. If you were my girl, and I paid the tab, you might have to work overtime and yet you wouldn't get an extra cent," he chuckled. "But let's not talk commercial now. I'm hot for you, baby. Just looking at you half-dressed gets me randy. Oh you darling!"
She had reached forward now unzipped his fly, taken his prick out and was fondling it between her palms. Then she suddenly bowed her head and gave it a big kiss. His fingers clutched around her titties, and he kissed the back of her neck, and sank his teeth lightly into the soft sweet flesh.
"Do you want me to take it in my mouth, Jack dear? Or do you want to put it in my little spot?" she whispered.
"I really want both, if you want to know something. Let's try both. After all, I've had you two times, so I'm not about to go off too quickly. Work me around with that lovely mouth and tongue of yours, and then I'll give it to you," he hoarsely urged.
As he stood there near the bed, Amy went down on her knees, her hands caressing his legs, and her soft mouth engulfed him. Her eyes closed, her face a rapt mask of concentration, she sucked and licked until he felt himself savagely hard. Then, just at the point where he knew that he had to have relief of some kind, she rose sinuously to her feet, put her arms around him and pressed herself tightly against him. His hands hastily shoved down her panties, and then his prick slipped right into her soft moist slit. With a groan, he grabbed hold of her juicy asscheeks and thrust himself to the balls, and then, mouth to mouth, they began to fuck. This time it was a slow and languorous tempo, and every in and out of her tight warm sheath intoxicated him and seemed to give him greater power than before.
"Oh baby, what you do to me!" he muttered thickly. "You think it over about that deal I made you. Think it over real good. I'll be nice to you, you know that."
"I know that, Jack, Ohh, that's so nice-oh darling!" For his left forefinger had just sneaked down to find her tickler and had begun to frig it gently as he continued his slow and deliberate in and out thrusting within her love-canal. He could feel the muscles of her naked ass flex and tighten, feel the cheeks undulate and shift and squirm as her body began to glow and radiate the euphoria his frigging and fucking was bringing about.
He was really enchanted to find that here was a young beauty in the trade who could be made to come and that she did it for him. She had already shyly told him that she almost never had an orgasm with regular customers. That was very flattering. And he certainly could do worse than Amy.
At last he both sank down onto the bed, tottering with their passion, rolled over and over and uttered a simultaneous cry of delight, as they felt climax upon them.. . .
Laurel Branton had been staked to a new wardrobe by her calculating mother. And there was no doubt that the "mod" apparel intensified Laurel's natural charms. Two hours in the beauty salon did wonders also, and Laurel's fiery hair was given an exquisite and very sophisticated quiche bob setting, with the pointed curls pressed against the middle of her cheeks. A special lipstick, mascara, eye shadow, and when she emerged, Ruby stood up in the reception room of the salon and whistled as a man would: "Wowie! Are you my girl? You're really something, Laurel baby, and now I think we're loaded for bear. Let's go out and get you a job so all these nice rich young men in Chicago will get a chance to look you over. And don't forget, hold out for a good price just in case Mama doesn't have any luck in court."
"Thanks, Mama. How did you make out with Mr. Donahue?" Laurel whispered as they walked towards the elevator.
"Oh, Frank Donahue's my kind of guy. He's around fifty, smart as a whip, black-haired and sleek, and he's got bedroom eyes and a bedroom voice. But he also knows his law. When I showed him those letters, he said he thought maybe we had something. Maybe the sole surviving heiress, this Theodora Ames, would figure that the letters would have some nuisance value she might come across with a nice little to avoid court actions and scandal. I don't think she'd care to have it known to the socialite snobs of this town that her old man screwed me and then left me with you in my belly, Laurel baby."
"That sounds good, Mama."
"Quit calling me that. Seeing the job they did on you, I'm going right back now and make an appointment for myself tomorrow. You and I are going to be sort of sisters. Don't think I can't do it, kid. Hell, even if I am forty-three, I bet I can look thirty with some of that goo they put on you. The old man up in Minnesota used to say that I was like that famous French dame-what's her name-oh yeah, Ninon de L'Enclos. Seems she was good in bed even up to eighty or something like that."
"I wouldn't put it past you, Ruby-if you don't mind my calling you that," Laurel giggled. "Come on, let's go find out about a job for me."
"While you were in there getting yourself all prettied up, honey, I went through the want ads. They want a receptionist at some snooty ad agency on Michigan Avenue. That's one hell of a location, and that's where the big dough is. I don't mean what they'd pay you, I mean the rich guys you'd meet and the big business wheelers and dealers who work in an agency and who do business with it, see?"
"I get the pitch, okay. How do I go about getting the job, though?"
"It says to phone a Mr. Dunbar for an appointment. It's only four o'clock, why don't you use the pay phone right here by the elevator and go ahead and see what you can do tomorrow? Maybe you could even go in there now, dolled up the way you are, I'll bet you'd give him a hard-on."
"Mama, cut out that sort of talk! I'm supposed to be a lady, remember?"
"I know, I know, but a fact is a fact all the same. Anybody with any brains and any prick hiring pretty girls to sit at a desk all day and smile sweetly at clients would be nuts if he didn't hire you the way you look right now, Laurel, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother, either. Now you use that phone fast!"
Fate was really laughing up her sleeve when Laurel Branton dropped a dime into the coin box of the public telephone and dialed the number of Jack Lurton's agency and asked for Mr. Dunbar.
Hugo Dunbar was fifty-four, and although he was office manager in charge of personnel (the stenos and secretaries, not the higher-up), he exercised a good deal of influence at the agency. Personally, he was a morose and frustrated man. His wife had left him about twelve years ago, for a younger, more energetic stud. Hugo Dunbar was the kind of man who talked a good fuck but could never deliver. He was also somewhat scared of women, which didn't help either. So, about all he could do was to hire pretty girls for the agency and engage then during the interview in a little smutty talk-of a highly refined variety, to be sure-which would give him the vicarious thrill, that he needed. Then he would go home and jack off and dream about the girl he had just hired to be in the steno pool, imagining that he was alone with her in a mirrored bedroom and she was kneeling at his feet and taking off his clothes and sucking his prick and begging him to fuck her and then, telling him that she had never had such a wonderful fucking in her sweet young life.
Hugo Dunbar was also partial to redheads, probably because his gorgeous wife had been exactly that herself; only her shade of hair was much darker than Laurel's. Consequently, when he heard Laurel's husky, bedroom voice over the phone, towards the end of a tiring and rather boring day, his gonads perked up and he found himself urging the charmer at the other end of the phone to see if she could get to the office before quitting time.
Laurel could and did. She was ushered promptly into Hugo Dunbar's office and he practically drooled over her. So much so, indeed, that he hardly bothered to ask for references or schooling, and when he found out that she could type, answer a phone, and that she was immediately available and that she had just come to Chicago and was in need of a job, he hired her on the spot, to start the following Monday.
And thus unwittingly this ineffectual excuse for a man was the catalytic agent destined to bring together Laurel Branton and Jack Lurton, both of whom had reason to hate the lovely arrogant guts of one black-haired heiress and snob namely Theodora Ames.