Chapter 9

Lew Mazza was tired. He wished to Cod he was anywhere but in this creepy roadhouse club in the northern part of Florida. The place was thick with smoke; the lousy band was too loud and brassy. The floor show had been bad. And now he had to sit here and listen to the silly, drunken chatter of this silly Dolores broad and his junior partner, Aldo Hines. Well, the whole bit was one of the occupational hazards of being a theatrical agent.

He and Aldo had spotted this Dolores dame in a cheap Miami joint and both of them agreed she could really sing and had something special which could be brought out, would make her into the big time, if she was handled right. Handled right, Lew thought with irony. Boy, Aldo was sine "handling her right," had been ever since they started on the trip. The big handsome guy by now had her having the hots for him so bad she could hardly sit still. He envied the younger man hi a way. It would be something to get into that when they went back to the motel. And there was no question Aldo was going to make it.

Of course, by the time they got her to New York, Aldo would be already tired of her and looking for the next one. But that was all right; it was just as well; then Aldo could be more objective about her, as a client. And they couldn't lose her even if she got mad at Aldo. They had wrapped her up in a good tight contract. The funny thing was, though, Aldo s broads seldom got PO'd at him when he threw them over. They seemed to accept it as inevitable. It was as though they knew that his talent made any other answer impossible.

And then Lew Mazza began to pay some attention to their conversation because right now, it was his talent, his specialty, that Aldo Hines and Dolores were discussing. It was real neat, Lew thought, the way Aldo could lead a conversation onto that subject, get a broad so excited and piqued with curiosity about this particular prowess, they could hardly wait to get alone with him. Lew Mazza listened, now.

"Oh, come off k, Aldo, honey," Dolores was saying, in that rich, sexy voice of hers. "You trying to make me believe that woman paid you five hundred dollars, just to do that for her, once a week?"

Aldo held up his right hand. "Scout's honor, kid! Listen, you wouldn't question it, if you'd ever had it done. And you've got to realize this woman was loaded with loot. Five hundred to her was like five bucks to you or me. Now, sweetie, you mean to say that if it's as good as I say, you wouldn't pay me a fin to do it for you?"

She laughed and her fine, plump breasts jiggled, free of any bra, under the thin T-shirt she was wearing. Lew Mazza watched that, noting that Aldo had her plenty excited already, just talking about it, the way the peaks of those pretty boobs were spiking out the cloth. Both Aldo and Dolores were pretty drunk. Lew noted. And Aldo was something more than that, Lew saw. His eyes were glittering wildly and he was more excited than Lew had ever seen him, in a weird kind of way, sort of like a mad scientist, or something, being challenged by a difficult, earth-shaking experiment.

"Oh, Aldo, you're terrible!" Dolores said, giggling. "I don't know why I even let you talk to me about such awful things. Any other man I'd probably slap his face."

"It's not so awful, Baby," Aldo said. "Listen, any doctor, any psychiatrist will tell you that when a guy and gal are crazy for each other that anything that's pleasurable for them both, is perfectly okay."

Then he shook his head, ruefully. "You know, Dolores, sweetie, it's hard for me to believe, almost impossible."

"What is?"

"That as beautiful, adorable, sweet and lovable kid as you are, has never had that wonderful experience."

"Oh, Aldo! You do say the sweetest things!"

Lew Mazza sat there, listening, marveling at Aldo's verbal technique for seduction. It was so effective that Dolores seemed to have even forgotten that he was there. Mazza looked up, then, as a beautiful woman entered, alone and was led by a waitress to the booth next to theirs. Mazza's eyes lighted with interest as he noticed the woman's erect, regal carriage, her facial beauty, the gentle hobbling, beneath the light summer dress she wore, of her majestic bosom.

Now there, Mazza thought to himself, is a real woman, mature, interesting, not just some silly, pretty kid. Now there was one who could get him excited, even.

Then his attention was brought back to what the couple sitting with him, were saying. Aldo was pouring it on again.

"Sure, honey, a lot of these famous, glamour girl movie stars love it that way. Believe me. It's extra kicks for them. Hey, did I ever tell you about what happened at a famous Hollywood nightclub, one night?"

Dolores shook her head. "Uh-uh," she said.

"Well, I don't dare tell you their actual names; very few people do actually know them. But I happen to. Anyhow, the guy is a famous Hollywood director; the woman a big star; at least she was, at that time; she's not very active any more. And bear in mind, Sugar, this is a true story. Everyone in Movietown knows about it. It was the talk of the film colony for months."

"Yeah?" Dolores said.

"Uh-huh. And it happened at this famous night club. We'll call it the Falstaff Club, just for convenience, al-thought the actual place this happened was very big and famous. Anyhow, this director and this actress met for the first time at this night club party. There were two other couples along, and you, so the incident was well witnessed, so to speak, certified. Well, there was a lot of boozing and this director and the actress got the hots for each other right off and did some smooching right there in that night club booth and a little hand holding and other things under the table. Anyhow, both of them got pretty worked up. First thing you know, the director and the girl are talking about well, you know what you and I have been discussing, tonight. First thing you know, this crazy director tells the girl that he's so crazy about her. wants her so much that he can't even wait. He'd be willing to do something for her, right there, at the club; right at the table."

"What?" Dolores gasped.

"No kidding. That's exactly what he said. Everybody heard it. And they all started razzing the poor guy, telling him ho was crazy, he didn't have the moxie to do such a thing, and like that. Some other guy bet him a thousand bucks, he wouldn't dare. Well that tore it. Especially when the woman told this director that she wouldn't care but she didn't think he had the nerve to go through with it, either. With that, the guy promptly slid under the table and right there in a busy night club, he--"

"Oh, no!" Dolores cut in. "You're kidding!" Her giggle was almost hysterical, now and her voice throbbed with a strange excitement.

"That's the honest truth, angel," Aldo swore. "Listen, a few days later the story was all over Hollywood and a famous gossip columnist even mentioned it in his column."

"He did? What could he possibly say about a thing like that?"

"He was pretty clever. He just ran an item that said: 'I hear they're now serving box lunches at the Falstalf.'"

Dolores laughed until tears came to her eyes. She dabbed them away, then said: "Oh, that's awfu!"

"She didn't think so," Aldo said. "The girl involved."

Lew Mazza had heard this story before. But he was interested now in Dolores' reaction and also the strange way Aldo was acting. He knew Aldo well enough to know the guy was building up to something.

That really did take a lot of guts for a guy to do," Lew commented.

"You think so?" Aldo said, deprecatingly. "I don't Listen, you pick the right moment, when nobody's looking, to slide under the table, who's going to know the difference except the people whore sitting right there at that table. If any one did see it, they'd just think tie guy dropped something, was looking for it."'

"Yeah, I suppose so," Lew admitted. "Still and all, it's a wild gig."

"Nah!" Aldo said, excitedly. "Tell you what You bet me ten bucks I won't end I'll do it Bight here and now."

Lew Mazza looked at him with interest He heard Dolores gasp, "Oh, no, Al!" but he didn't pay too much attention to her. He thought about it He decided that ten bucks would be a cheap price to be on hand for such a stunt. He said: "Okay, kid. You're on."...

In the next booth, Lena Troy sat listening to the conversation, as she sipped a Scotch Mist. She could hardly believe her ears. Her face felt hot and flushed. Even though the people in the other booth were talking quietly and the "band in the place was making so much noise the conversation should have been drowned out to all except the actual occupants of that table, by some strange trick of acoustics, Lena could hear every word, quite plainly. In addition to that because of the placement of a wall mirror, Lena could see and watch the people in the next booth, quite clearly.

Several times she'd told herself that they couldn't possibly be talking about what she thought yet what other interpretation was there? Especially since Lena, once, had heard the same story about the director and the actress. Oh, no, she told herself, now, as she listened to Aldo's proposition, this is terrible; it can't be happening.

Yet at the same time, she knew it was and she was fascinated, in spite of herself. The conversation started all kinds of erotic images and imaginings running through her mind. Almost vividly she could picture the intimate details. She found herself beginning to perspire and trembling all over. Heat like a fiery stain was again beginning to crawl up her thighs and wild urges and needs and desires flowed through her. She felt weak and filled with an almost sickening sweetness of acutely pleasurable sensation.

She heard the younger man, Aldo, say: "Oh, come on, Dolores, don't be chicken. Nobody'll know, except us. It'll be a wild kick. You told me you liked to get kicks, well this'll be a new one, a big one for you. Nobody can see anything, not with this long table cloth hanging down on all sides. What do you say, doll, okay?"

Dolores was staring at Aldo now with wild-eyed fascination and poorly veiled interest. The pert globes of her breasts rose and fell excitedly under her T-shirt, the sharp nipples looking as though they'd burst through the cloth.

"Oh, I couldn't, honey!" she gasped.

"Tow don't have to do anything," he coaxed. "Just sit there. You're going to let me, aren't you? Come on, now."

Dolores was speechless by now. She could only shake her head, negatively and rather weakly, as she glanced around to see if anybody was looking. She missed seeing Lena watching them in the mirror.

Now, Aldo, too, was glancing around. Excitedly, he told Dolores: "I'm going to do it. And listen, Baby, you'd better not try to get away, to stop me, because if you do, I'll tip the damned table over and I'll tell everybody why I did it. How does that grab you? And don't think I won't because I've got to go through with this now. I've got to."

Then he saw that nobody was paying any attention and quickly slid off his chair and ducked under the long-hanging table cloth, disappeared from sight.

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch!" Lew Mazza breathed in awed admiration

Witnessing this in the mirror, Lena Troy could hardly believe her eyes. The man couldn't now be under the table and about to ... Yet, if not, where had he gone? There was no other answer.

Then she saw the pretty young woman, Dolores, push her fingertips up into the hair at her temples and stiffen, her eyes going big and wide, as she murmured: "Oh, Jeeze, no!" But it was more of an exclamation of disbelief than denial.

Now, Dolores sat there, stiffly, as though frozen and Lena's imagination about what was going on, ran wild. She was beside herself with arousement, now. She could hardly sit still. It was almost as though it was happening to her.

Then, abruptly, Dolores' eyes went even bigger and her moist red mouth opened and she uttered a little animal-like cry and started to slump back in her chair. Her hands were on the table in front of her, twining and untwinig her fingers, nervously. Now her eyes took on a glazed look and her mouth remained open to take care of her quickened breathing. She shuddered a couple of times and slid lower in her seat. Then in a few moments she let out a couple of hoarse groans, unheard by the rest of the patrons, under cover of the noise of the band.

It went on and on and Lena thought it would never stop. She wanted to tear her gaze away from the mirror; she wanted to get up and run from this awful place, away from these awful people, but she couldn't She remained rooted and wild desires and needs began to build up terrible, unbearable tensions within her, as she watched Dolores' expression. The other girl now was slumped way down in her seat her head back, her mouth opened, her eyes walled back. Her hands were now down under the table cloth. She was gasping and groaning as though she was dying. And then, finally, she let out a big sigh and relaxed all over.

"Well, I I'm be a son of a bitch!" Lew Mazza said. At the same time he looked around, worriedly, to see if anybody had noticed what had happened. Apparently nobody had ... And then he saw Lena Troy's reflection in the minor and knew that she had. He kept his eyes on her reflection, now, as Aldo bobbed back up from under the table cloth. He heard Dolores whimper weakly:-Oh, Aldo, darlinpi"

Lew Mazza saw that the girl in the next booth wasn't aware yet that he was watching her. She still had her gaze on Dolores. He saw, too, the unmistakable signs in Lena's expression, of a woman tormented by almost unbearable desire. It was so obvious that he immediately felt his own life juices leap in response.

"Hell." he told himself. "Watching that little incident really Rot that beautiful chick, really got to her. She's hotter right now than a three buck pistol. Oh, is that peach ever ripe for plucking!"

Then suddenly, in the mirror, Lena's gaze caught at Lew's. Their eyes met and held for an instant and Lew smiled slowly, knowingly and winked. The woman blushed furiously and then grabbed up her purse, dug into it and took out a bill and dropped it on the table. She got up so fast, then, she knocked the remains of her drink over. She pushed away from the table and headed for the exit.

Lew Mazza, an opportunist all his life, wasn't about to let this one get away. He hurriedly arose, too, left their table. He ignored Aldo's query: "Hey, where you going, Lew?" He ran toward the exit. When he stepped outside, Lena Troy was standing in the driveway, looking around wildly, swaying a little.

Lew went up to her, taking a last drag on his cigar before throwing it away. "Miss, is anything wrong? Can I help you?"

She looked around, startled. She almost jumped. T no I feel better now. I was feeling a little ill."

"Well, then, maybe you'd better let me help you to your car."

"No," she started to protest Then she felt his fat, strong fingers encircle her arm. The contact sent flames of desire darting all through her; for an instant she felt faint with it. She was trembling all over.

"Well, all right, then," she said and went along with him, almost docilely.

The parking lot was pitch black. Lena's car was far in the back, deep in some shadows under a tree, with no other ears near it As they entered that deeper darkness under the tree. Lew Mazza said, excitedly: "Baby, I'm sorry, but I don't think you're sick at all unless it's from that old Hawaiian disease Lakanookie. I figure it that Aldo and Dolores little exhibition got you all excited, right?"

With that he took his hand from her arm and reached around and rested it on the high rise of her big, round buttocks. He stroked and squeezed experimentally, as she said: "I I don't know what you're talking about" But her voice was faint and weak.

"Sure you do, doll," Lew said. He stopped and took her into his arms. His arms went around her and his hands seized her backside firmly, yanked her to him. He jammed himself against her, excited by the sensation of her large hard-tipped breasts pillowed against his chest He ground his mouth down hard on hers and his tongue forced its way between her lips, lashed at her own. He felt her slump willingly against him, as a little sigh came from deep in her throat.

Lena could smell and taste the odor of the stale cigar in his mouth but rather than disgust her, now, the masculine aroma excited her. She became aware of the manliness of his big-bellied body and instinctively ground her hips against him.

He finally removed his mouth from hers, whispered, breathlessly: "Let's get in the car, Babe."

"Yes," she murmured. "Oh, yes."

Lew practically shoved her into the car. Hastily, roughly he loosened most of her clothes, then removed her panties. His hands were eager, avid, almost cruel, on the great swells of her bared breasts, on the taut nipples, on the long, full-fleshed curves of her naked thighs.

"Oh, sweetie!" he moaned. "What a lot of woman you are!"

Then he was over her, his weight almost unbearable in the cramped confines of the car. And then the thing for which she had been driven to such terrible need, happened. She let out a long, low cry of acceptance and her arms hugged him and her legs encircled him and she stayed with him, frenzied surge for frenetic heave. And it went on and on until she thought she would faint with satisfaction...

When it was over, she practically lacked Lew Mazza out of the car, as she cried with rage at the realization of how she had again humiliated herself. Later, at the motel, she showered and scrubbed herself but still couldn't get to feeling clean. She kept thinking over and over: "How could I? How could I with that foul cigar stinking, dirty old man." But mixed in with the remorse and the self-recrimination, she alternately thought about the scene in the night club between Aldo and Dolores, which had so aroused her and recognized the fact that she felt physically calmed and at ease. And later, when she went to bed, she fell instantly asleep...

Back at the roadhouse, when Lew Mazza returned to their table, Aldo looked at him, curiously, asked: "Where the hell have you been, where did you go?"

Lew Mazza chuckled, expansively lit a cigar and signalled a waitress for drinks all around. "I just did something I haven't done since I was eighteen."

"Yeah. What was that?"

"Knocked off a quickie in a car in the parking lot. And not really such a quickie, at that." He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Man, was that broad something."

"No kidding," Aldo said. "Which one?"

Then Lew Mazza told them what had happened.