Chapter 8
WALT WAS HAVING PROBLEMS.
The orders had been coming in at a pace exceeding his wildest expectations. Quite a few men drifted down to the lobby, acting as if they expected to see girls standing around the main desk waiting to be chosen. Walt had to explain to them that the deal could be worked by phone only, and would they please go back upstairs before Fisk or one of the other bigwigs noticed the crowds and wondered what was going on.
Under threat of fouling up the operation which was to provide their evening's entertainment, the men went meekly back to their rooms and placed their orders by phone. At least, most of them did.
But there were two still standing at the desk, arguing over the same damned thing, refusing to leave the lobby until it was settled.
Walt thought of them as the easterner and the westerner. The easterner had a harsh nasal accent, but seemed to be a fairly regular guy. The westerner, was loud, nasty, red faced and black of disposition, and refused to pay any attention to Walt's pleas for quiet. He refused to pay any attention to anything but getting the girl he wanted.
Walt kept trying to tell him the easterner had been first. He came down to the lobby some minutes before the other and started negotiating with Walt for a particular kind of girl-a little blonde hooker, he said, with breasts just so, and hips with this much swing, and legs about yea long, and what else? Oh, yes-she should be blonde only on her head. That was very important. That's what the easterner's friend-some guy named Rog-wanted.
The description hit Walt right away; the obvious choice was Libby. Walt described Libby to the man, who seemed quite enthusiastic and Walt put in a call to the service floor. Libby didn't show up right away, however the girls were having trouble locating her. While waiting, Walt and the easterner began working out the details of a deal involving the entire night.
That's when the westerner showed up.
He came to the desk, shouldered the easterner aside, and identified himself as one of the men in 701. Walt recalled there already had been two orders from that room; Hester was finished, and Kit had a turn to do.
He asked the westerner what he wanted.
And the westerner told him what he wanted. No, by God, what he was going to get was that snotty little blonde gal who made up his seventh floor room that morning. He didn't know her name, he said, but he described her accurately.
The westerner also wanted Libby. And he too wanted her for the entire night. Impasse.
"Son, there's two hundred dollars riding on this here deal two fat century notes. That's what I'm willing to pay to get my hands on that little maid."
"I was here first, mister. That gal's reserved for the exclusive use of my friend Rog."
"I don't give two toots about your friend Rog, or about you neither! Now you stop butting in your goddam nose, pal, or you're going to get. .
"Gentlemen please-"
"Son, you tell this bastard here to butt his nose out of my business and his friend's nose too! I got two hundred dollars says I'm getting that gal."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I got two-fifty says my pal Rog is getting here now what do you think about that?"
"Three hundred! Cash on the barrelhead!"
"Three-fifty."
"God damn you four!"
"Gentlemen shut up!" It took Walt a few seconds to recognize this yelling voice as his own. He looked nervously about, but the argument hadn't attracted any attention. Not yet.
"Look, men there's no point arguing about this. Obviously the only thing is for one of you to take a different girl. There are all kinds of girls available and I'm sure there'd be no difficulty in finding one of you a suitable substitute..."
"No, sir!" The westerner slapped his palm on the desk. "No substitutes. Either I get what I ask for, or I don't buy anything!"
"That's just the way I feel about it," said the easterner. "And I was here first, damn it!"
Walt took a deep breath. "You can't both have her," he said. "Not both for the night."
"We know that," said the westerner. "Come on now
which one of us gets the gal?"
Walt glanced from one to the other, chewing his lip in concentration. It was a shame this had to happen. No matter how he decided, he would make an enemy of one of these men, and it wasn't good to have enemies in this sort of operation. Nevertheless, a decision had to be made.
He shook his head at the westerner. "Sorry, sir in the interests of fair play, there's only one answer I can give you. This other gentlemen was first."
For a few seconds, the westerner didn't reply. When he spoke again, his voice took on an odd tone. "Sure you won't change your mind, son?" Sorry, sir.
"I could make it worth your while, son."
"Sir I'm sorry. The answer is no."
"Then again," said the westerner, "I might be able to make you wish you had changed your mind."
Walt frowned at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Forget it, son." The westerner smiled. "Just forget it. Forget I said anything at all."
Before Walt could reply, the man turned on his heel and strode off toward the elevators.
"Relax," said the easterner.
"Huh?"
"Don't let that blowhard bother you, friend. I've been to a lot of these conventions before, and that crowd from the west always makes a lot of noise, gets into fights. It never means anything. They're just letting off steam."
"I hope you're right, sir."
"I know I am."
"Maybe," said Walt, still looking in the direction of the elevators. "After all have you ever attended a convention before where room service could send you up a woman?"
For Patsy and Liz, the time had come.
Word went out from the desk about fifteen minutes ago a man on the tenth floor wanted two girls, for some specialized antics which he refused to describe. However, he was willing to pay the price, whatever it might be.
Few of the girls liked the sound of it. The buck was deftly passed from one girl to the other, until Patsy and Liz found themselves holding it, dead center in the spotlight with all the girls watching. The problem of maintaining their pretense that they were, as Hester described it, regular girls had boiled down to this single decision.
So they volunteered.
Now they stood outside the door of Room 1010, holding each other's hand, gritting their teeth, preparing for the worst.
Patsy knocked.
He was a tiny man, as colorless as a mouse. His voice was soft, but high-pitched, and neither of the girls was reassured by the insane gleam in his eye.
"Hello," he whispered. "Are you...? "
"Yes," said Patsy. "Let us in."
She pulled Liz with her into the room. They had worked it out before as long as this terrible business lasted, neither was going to endure the caresses of a male unless the other was also. They hadn't suspected they'd be working together, but this new situation made their original bargain more important. Patsy was determined to hold up her end and she was going to make sure Liz did the same.
The man closed the door and came toward them. The girls braced themselves for whatever he had in mind. He didn't appear to have anything in mind, however; he walked by them, and seated himself in an easy chair facing the bed. When they turned to look at him, he was smiling shyly.
"I don't know if you ladies will go for this," he said. His voice whispered and purred obscenely. "It's er rather unusual."
Patsy set her jaw. "Tell us what you want, mister. Just tell us, and we'll do it for you."
"Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised. "Anything at all?"
"Anything," said Patsy. "You paid for it, so you can name it."
"Oh all right." He licked his lips. "First of all if you don't mind would you be so kind as to get undressed? Both of you, that is."
Slowly, the two girls obeyed. They'd undressed under similar circumstances many times before; at the beginnings of countless horsing-around evenings together; and they were reminded of the pleasure they took in baring their bodies. The fact that there was no pleasure in this moment made the ordeal harder to bear.
They were both neat girls, and folded their dresses and underwear carefully on top of the room's bureau. Then, hand in hand, they walked naked to the center of the room and let the old man look at them.
Look at them he did. Intently. His eyes scanned the jutting mounds of their breasts, the tight discs of their nipples, the creamy flesh of their thighs, the goateed expanse of their bellies. He seemed pleased with what he saw; gradually, the look of shyness gave way to an expression of mild enjoyment. However, he made no move to get up out of his chair.
"You're very lovely girls," he said. "Very different, of course-but both very lovely. My, my what a study in contrasts you make standing there like that."
Patsy shivered a little. The room wasn't cold, but she could feel her skin tightening as if the temperature was below zero. "Tell us what you want," she said. "Let's get it over with."
"Well-" The man paused and ran a nervous finger over his lips. "Would you what's your name."
"Patsy."
"Ah. And your friend?" 'Liz. Mister, will you please tell us . "
"Patsy," he said. "Very good. Now, Patsy if you are sure you don't mind . "
"Go on."
"Would you hold your friend's breast? One of them, that is."
Patsy stared at him. "Hold her you mean, Liz here?"
"Yes. I hope I haven't er well, after all, you did say you'd do whatever I asked you to, did you not?"
Patsy nodded. "Sure. Is that what you want? For me to hold Liz' boob?"
"Ah-yes. That's right. Would you do that?"
Patsy shrugged. "Okay." She looked at Liz, and saw the girl was watching the man with a baffled expression. Patsy's hand slid under Liz' near breast, her fingers curling to hold it.
The effect this had on the man was tremendous. His face went slack, as if all the muscles had been cut, and his mouth hung open, glistening with moisture, like his eyes.
"Lift it," he whispered, his eyes riveted on Liz's breast. "Heft it. Make it bounce."
Patsy did what he asked. This was a familiar caress for her, and she went through the motions without giving any thought to them. She watched the man, and hs reactons became stranger every second.
"Like this?" she asked, holding the fleshy globe in her palm.
"Would you go around behind her now? Then you could hold both of them at once. Would you do that?"
"Sure." Patsy sidled behind Liz and slipped her hands under the girl's arms. This also was a familiar caress, and Liz obliged by leaning back against Patsy and taking a deep breath so that the lush spheres rose tightly in Patsy's cupped palms. Patsy found the red tips with her fingers, and drew on them gently, the way she knew Liz liked.
The man seemed to like it almost as much as Liz. He twitched and sweated, his hips shifting in the seat, his eyes bulging.
Patsy was beginning to enjoy herself. As long as the little man stayed put in his seat, there was no reason to sweat. So far, all he asked her to do were things she normally did for her own amusement; as she thought of that, she too became excited.
"Kiss them now," said the man. "Come around front turn sideways, so I can see you both and kiss them."
Liz allowed Patsy to turn her into position. Patsy bent over, angled her head, and planted a brief moist kiss on the tip of each breast in turn. Then she straightened up.
"What's wrong?" asked the man. "Is there something wrong?"
"The angle's no good. I'm too tall and she's too short. You know it would be a lot better if we could lie on the bed and do this."
"Yes, yes," said the man eagerly. "That would be fine. That would be wonderful. Go lie on the bed together, and I'll tell you what to do."
As they took their positions on the soft mattress, Patsy noticed the ripe tension of Liz's breast-tips, and realized the girl had been excited by her caresses. Then she felt Liz's hand over one of her own firm breasts, and sensed the jut of her nipple rising against the girl's caress.
Patsy and Liz were both pretty excited. And, under the circumstances, it was odd indeed.
But neither was nearly as aroused as the man.
"Good that's it feel her you, Liz you kiss Patsy this time kiss her right there-there that's the way..."
Patsy and Liz, being old hands at this sort of thing, were going him one better. They shifted their bodies gracefully, presenting each other's breasts to each other's lips. Hands on one, lips covering the other, they mutually took possession of all the breasts in sight.
The man urged them on, but it was unnecessary. The two girls were rolling now in a well-worn groove; their movements became automatic, their excitement more intense and genuine, as passion took them. They slid their bodies together, holding each other's buttocks with spasmodically clenching fingers, rubbing their upper torsos so that their breasts flattened and shifted against one another. Their legs wound, and locked, drawing their bellies into voluptuous contact.
"Now-" said the man, voice dropping to a barely-intelligible whisper. "Put your hands there that's the way hold each other oh, that's fine and now, if you could kiss yes, just that way do it now, and yes and move your yes, yes and if you could just put your fingers oh, yes, yes, yes yes..."
The two girls had become a single mass of heaving twitching flesh.
"That's what I wanted," said the man, almost to himself. "I always wanted to see lesbians doing all my life, I've wanted to watch lesbians just watch not even do anything except..
He cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. "Ladies you've been very kind no, don't stop just keep right on with what you're doing but I would like to ask a little favor of you ... You see there's something I have to take care of over here something I have to do and I would certainly appreciate it if you would just ignore me while I pay no attention to me ... It's just a little private thing I want to take care of I'm sure you understand..."
Whether Patsy and Liz understood was no longer important.
Both girls had completely forgotten his existence.
Hester finished with Charlie.
She left him fighting for breath and smiling like am imbecile on the bed, still naked, still vibrating, dry of all his senses.
Charlie was finished.
But Hester was only getting started.
Before leaving the room, she called the second floor and had the signal passed along to Kit. It was time for the next turn in this room, and Hester wanted to make sure it took place on schedule. Her fidelity to the timetable was not based on a desire to keep things running smoothly a far more potent desire was working on her.
She left the room and stood in the hall, waiting. After a few minutes, the elevator door opened and a man stepped out. He started down the hall in the direction of Room 701, then spied Hester and stopped.
"You next?" she called.
He nodded, then walked up to her. "Yeah that's right. But I ordered a colored gal I thought the guy downstairs said I could have-"
"Take it easy, sport. You're going to get your dark girl. I'm just left over from the last one." She leaned forward, rubbing a breast up against his arm. "I tell you what, sugar why don't you go in there and rouse your pal. After all, the sooner you get him off that bed, the sooner you can climb into it yourself."
"Charlie? He still in there?"
Hester chuckled. "Yep."
The man smiled uncertainly, then eased around her and opened the door.
A few moments later, Charlie appeared at the door. He was dressed, and still wearing the same sated smile. Hester grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hall, shutting the door after him.
"You look like you could use a drink, Charlie. Why don't you run downstairs and sit at the bar for a while? If I get a chance, maybe I'll drop by and say hello later on. Would you like that?"
Charlie nodded. "Go take the elevator now, and be a good boy." She turned him around, aimed him at the end of the hall, and shoved him off. He stumbled in the proper direction, but didn't seem to have any control over his movements. He would have crashed head on into the elevator doors if they hadn't opened at just that moment.
Kit was in the car. She watched Charlie sail by her and come to a halt with a hollow bong against the back wall.
"Send him to the lobby," Hester called. "Your trick's waiting in the room here."
Kit grinned, punched the button, and stepped out of the car just ahead of the closing doors. She came up, still grinning. "You see him yet, Hes?"
"Your turn? Yeah, I seen him."
'What's he like?"
"Like the one you just saw. They all look the same you know."
"I need me some real loving," Kit said, "I really got my nature up tonight. I going to give him everything I got, and I sure do hope he's man enough."
"Kit?"
"Yeah, honey?"
"Listen before you go in there, I want to ask you something."
"Why, sure, Hes. What all's on your mind."
"Kit I been thinking."
"About what?"
'About well, you. And this guy."
Kit looked puzzled. "How you mean, Hes?" 'You and me we're friends. Ain't we, Kit?"
"Sure, we are. Hes what's eating on you?"
"We're friends," Hester said again. "Only we don't really know a hell out of a lot about each other."
Kit was shaking her head. "I ain't following you at all, Hes. What you talking about?"
"I mean we work together, and we talk and joke around a lot, but we don't know each other very well. Seems to me we ought to get better acquainted
oh, not like that Patsy and Liz, you understand, but.... She stopped, and seemed suddenly embarrassed at her own words.
Kit's expression changed from puzzlement to a look of dawning comprehension. "Maybe," she said. "Could be you and me don't know nothing about each other at all."
'You know I was only thinking..."
Kit smiled. "What is it, Hes, honey? Tell Kit what's on your mind."
Hester struggled with her mouth for a moment, then managed to shape the words. "I want to see you," she said.
"See me? Honey, you're seeing me right now."
"With this guy," said Hester. After a long pause, Kit said, "Ahh."
"Kit listen now I don't want you to think like, it's only because I ain't never seen a...."
"You want to watch a colored gal with a white man
that it, Hes?"
Hester attempted a smile. "Yeah. Right. I never saw that. In fact, I never saw a colored gal nude, either. Not altogether, anyway."
Kit's grin grew broader. "You seen my knockers, honey."
"Yeah," Hester said. "I sure did. That's some nice pair you got, Kit"
"Why, thank you, honey. Real kind of you to say so.
"But I ain't never seen your backside or your belly or the rest. You know what I mean, Kit."
"I know exactly what you mean, honey. You want to see if colored gals is any different from white ones."
"Yeah sort of."
"You want to see what a colored gal does when she's with a man."
"Yeah that too."
"Honey, tell me now is it just that you want to get a good long look at me? Is that the idea?" Hester nodded.
"Well," said Kit. "If the John don't mind you watching us, it sure ain't going to bother me none."
"You sure, Kit? Would it be okay?"
"Course it would honey. God I don't mind who's watching, long's it ain't the law. Besides-" There was a twinkle in her eye. "I think maybe I'd kind of like to have you watching me."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. That'd be nice. That'd add that little extra flip to all the fun."
"Just watch," said Hester. "Understand all I want to do is watch. Not like Liz and Patsy..."
Kit looked at her mildly. "Liz and Patsy? What they got to do with it?"
"Nothing," said Hester. "Nothing at all."
"Come on, honey. Let's us go inside and see if we can't talk the John into giving you a bleacher seat for this here game."
Pop almost had it.
Ever since he'd gone on duty in the furnace room, he'd been thinking, thinking, trying to pin down the elusive thought which troubled him. There was a hole in the scheme somewhere-Walt had left an important element out of his planning-and Pop was certain that unless this was taken care of, the whole business could come toppling down on that young man's head.
Pop didn't want to take the drink, but the bottle was waiting for him on the floor beside his chair. He stalled as long as he could, knowing that a drink would only make thinking harder, make the train of his thought dimmer and blurred. But it was too much for him.
He was on the verge of solving the question when he lifted the bottle and pulled a long swallow out of it.
A moment later, the answer was gone. Too bad, Pop thought. Too bad about that. Pity, really-it had been so damned close. He finished the bottle.
The man's name was Nat, or so he said. But he wasn't the important one. The important one was a man Libby hadn't seen yet-Roger, his name was.
Names, names-what did they mean?
Where am I? wondered Libby.
"Here we are, little lady," said Nat, leading her to the door of Room 634. Hold on for just a second, and I'll check to see if he's alive." Nat opened the door and stepped into the room, leaving Libby alone in the corridor.
She thought: Doing things naked with a woman. No-just doing things naked. Just being naked when there was somebody to watch. Naked and doing things and sex.
That kind of thinking led to a special place in her head, but the place was in darkness so she couldn't discern the nature of it. Women and naked and sex-those things tied together some way. She wished she could figure out how, that might tell her where she was.
Naked. Sex. Women. And-men?
Men? Didn't that make a difference? Add up naked-sex-women and you got one thing. But substitute men for women in that trio, and you got what?
Something different.
If I knew where I was, she thought, I'd be afraid.
Nat came back out. "He's okay. He isn't much with it, but you ought to be able to straighten that out." He looked her over admirably. "Boy-you are perfect. You're just what poor old Rog wants."
"Yes, sir," said Libby.
"Go in there now, and give that man a good time. Give him the best goddamm time he's ever had. I laid out a lot of money for my pal Rog to have a good time, and I want to make sure he gets my money's worth. You follow?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sure, you do, honey. You'll be fine." He stepped back and held the door open for her. "Step right in, little lady. Maybe I'll see you in the morning, huh?"
She smiled, because she thought it was expected of her, and walked into the room. Nat closed the door quietly.
Naked, she thought. That was important. And sex-that also was important. And a man?
Like the one sitting in the chair?