Chapter 16
Eva picked up the phone and gave the switchboard her sister's number. She'd been awfully confident with Martin that Ruth would cover for her.
But as the number began ringing, Eva had misgivings. Ruth had been pretty righteous the last time they'd been together.
But before she had the chance to further ponder a sleepy voice came on at the other end of the wire. "Yes?" it said.
"Let me speak to Ruth," Eva asked.
"This is she."
Eva wondered why she hadn't recognized her sister's voice. "I want you to do me a favor," she said slowly. "If Ralph calls, tell him that I'm spending the night with you and that I'm asleep."
Eva had expected a lecture. Instead she heard her sister answer calmly, "Does he know?" , "I left him a note."
"Don't worry, Eva," Ruth said. "I'll take care of it." The connection went dead.
Eva stared at the phone in her hand for a minute, puzzled at what had just happened. If she didn't know Ruth better, she'd swear that she'd sounded happy at the information. On top of that there weren't the usual questions.
But Eva was too tired to think about it now. She replaced the phone in the cradle and crawled into bed. Before she even had a chance to think of Martin again she was asleep.
But the first thing Eva thought of in the morning was Martin. Stretching awake, looking down the length of her body at the fresh bruises were enough to bring back the evening before.
Eva slid out of bed and padded to the large picture window. It was a lovely view. The sun glittered on the beach and the smell of the water brushed her face on the breeze. She stretched again, feeling more alive that she had in years. She started to walk out onto the balcony but decided against it. There were windows on the other wing of the hotel and she thought she saw a man's face in one of them.
Let them look, Eva thought. It was as much of her as they'd get. From now on her body belonged to Martin and no one else. As long as he was paying for it he might as well get his full share.
She moved back into the room and looked for a cigarette. Finding none she decided to go downstairs. But one look at her clothes scattered on the couch changed her mind. Everything was either ripped or crumpled into a hopeless mess.
For a moment, Eva stood in the center of the room, puzzled as to what she'd do next." Without anything to wear she was trapped in the room. And then she remembered the telephone. That was it, she thought happily. Martin had said there was a shop downstairs. She quickly picked up the instrument and ordered everything she thought she'd need.
Eva had just finished her shower when the knock came at the door. She quickly toweled herself off and walked to the door, remembering at the last instant that she was still indecent. Eva retrieved the towel and held it in her hand for a moment, debating which half to cover. The material was too skimpy for both. She decided on her waist. Holding the towel in place with one hand Eva opened the door with the other.
A tall, lanky bellhop stood on the other side, almost hidden by the packages in his arms. "Here's the stuff you ordered, Miss," he said, his eyes dead center on the breasts in front of him.
Eva ignored the stare. "Put them on the couch," she said, aware that her attempted haughty tone didn't come off too well in light of her exposure.
When the bellhop had disposed of his load he extended a piece of paper to her. "Sign here," he said.
Eva tried her best to hold the tab and scrawl a signature. But with one hand holding the towel the bill kept skidding off the table.
"Let me hold it," the bellhop volunteered.
Eva thought he'd meant the paper. But when he reached for the towel she knew her mistake. What did it matter anyhow?, she thought. Why not give him a thrill. She'd just finished putting down Martin's false name when the towel slid from his grasp and fell to the floor. Eva looked at the youth reprovingly.
"It slipped," he smiled broadly.
She handed him back his bill, not bothering to retrieve the towel. It was too late for that. "Have you seen enough?" she snapped.
"There ain't no more is there?" he grinned, his eyes drinking in the bare body in front of him.
"You'd better get out before I call the manager," Eva snapped.
"Sure, sure," the bellhop agreed, walking to the door. "Some guys got all the luck," he muttered unhappily as he closed the door behind him.
Eva felt suddenly depressed. First this awful policemen yesterday and now this kid, they'd both treated her as if she were a whore. She didn't understand it at all. What was there about her that made them think that way?
But the remembrance of the packages cheered her considerably. Soon she was too busy enjoying the expensive things she'd bought to worry about anyone but herself.
Eva sat in the booth, watching the activity around the nearby pool through the tinted glass. She sipped her third cup of coffee, completely content with the world.
The dining room of the Monica Arms Hotel was almost deserted excepting for herself and a table full of men who were obviously talking business.
Eva watched them for a time, slightly miffed that not one of them had payed the slightest attention to her. She looked down at what was visible above the table. She certainly was sexy enough, she thought. The new bra gave her breasts a fresh shape, helped along by the sweater which she'd purposely purchased a size too small.
At length she tore her eyes away from their conversation and drifted back into her own little world. She thought of Martin and what he'd said yesterday, that they'd be married within two weeks. Eva had to admit that she didn't know how he'd manage it but just the idea was exciting.
All his money at her disposal. It was far beyond her wildest dreams. Eva was rational enough to realize that there would be a few problems. It wasn't Ralph that bothered her. Eva knew that she could talk him into a divorce whenever she was ready to leave him. The poor fool was still so much in love with her that he'd do anything she wished to make her happy.
The real problem came with Martin's wife. Would she be so willing to give up a man as wealthy as Martin? Surely she'd raised some kind of a fuss.
Eva shook her head, unable to cope with the problem. After all, she thought, it wasn't really her worry. If Martin wanted her as badly as she thought he did, he'd see a way clear. And it seemed that he had. She wished the two weeks were over. Now that she'd begun to grow used to this luxury it would be even worse to be suddenly without it.
Eva glanced back at the pool. The water looked inviting. If she felt that way why didn't she go in? But there wasn't any bathing suit. Eva scolded herself for still thinking like a frowsy housewife in the suburbs. She had money at her disposal ... and plenty of time. She could buy the suit.
She signed the check and started from the room. Eva would have appreciated the four male heads that turned in unison and followed the movements of the too-tight skirt.
The Monica Towers is located at the end of a very busy boulevard leading away from Los Angeles, in the city of Santa Monica. Most traffic going up or down the ocean highway feeds past the hotel, bending slightly around the terraced grounds and able to look down into the sunken pool area.
And so it was that in the middle of the afternoon a snarl developed in the usual rapid flow of vehicles. Anyone with good eyesight would have immediately spotted why extra policemen had to be called out to handle the tangled intersection.
As each vehicle passed the hotel it slowed perceptibly, setting up a chain reaction. The cause was simple. A single figure in a black bathing suit laying stretched out on a lounge chair within view of the road.
The pool area itself had developed a greater usage than it normally received at that hour of the day, thus winning for this girl the ever-loving devotion of the sweating, overworked waiters toting drinks to cool the crowd off.
Other than the sun there was good reason for the heat. The girl on the lounge had on a bathing suit that came with two parts. The lower was simply a triangular piece of cloth designed to keep her from being raped on the spot. And the upper, even though it had more to cover, was smaller. It consisted solely of two small circular cups joined by a bridge of ribbon, held on by absolutely no visible means of support.
The total effect was dramatic. When she moved in her sleep, each breast moved in its own fashion. When she turned over and leaned on her elbows, the breasts hung downwards, swaying gently like plumb pendulums.
More than one bet changed hands that afternoon on the length of time those cups would stay in place.
Eva came out of her nap, well aware that she was being stared at. For a moment she wondered what had awakened her. Then she decided it must be the traffic which seemed much thicker than it had been earlier.
She sat up in the chair and stretched. At the height of the motion she noticed an old geezer close by lose his balance and fall into the pool with a mighty splash. His cries for aid went unheard as the lifeguard had his mind in another direction. Finally, the man's wife had to jump in and get him to safety.
The salesgirl had told her the suit would create a sensation, Eva thought. She'd certainly been correct. There were eyes in every direction. Eva liked it. She knew what they were staring at and she was proud of her body.
Eva wondered what would happen if she plucked one of those cups from her body. She smiled at the reflection. There'd be a riot sure. The thought intrigued her. Any woman would be happy to create a riot. There might even be pictures and she would be famous.
But she shook her head reluctantly. That wouldn't do. Not right now. There were much more important things ahead for her.
So she pulled her robe around her and started for the hotel.
An hour later, Eva paced the room restlessly. Why didn't Martin call? She looked at the clock for the tenth time. It was only four. There wouldn't be a chance of seeing him before eight at the earliest.
She tried to sit still for some crummy television show but it wasn't in color. Reading didn't help either. Eva ended up by sailing the magazine across the room.
She finally settled for a walk out onto the balcony and watching the heavy traffic pour out of the city towards the beach.
All at once it struck Eva that this sitting around was no different than being at home. She wanted company, somebody to talk to.
Eva scolded herself sharply. That was no way to think. Things would be different when she and Martin were married. Then she could go out in public and shop at all the expensive stores. If she were lonely they could take a long trip, perhaps even around the world. She'd like that. That was the difference with money, it bought what you wanted.
But at the moment she was neither fish nor fowl. She had to wait for Martin, to have him give her a fresh injection of confidence, to tell her again what it would be like as his wife.
Deep in thought, Eva didn't hear the knock at the door until it was repeated a second time. She snapped out of her daydreams quickly. Martin had managed to get away earlier.
She ran to the door and threw it open, prepared to spring into his arms.
But it wasn't Martin. The figure grinning on the other side of the panel was a stranger to her ... or was he. There was something awfully familiar about that face.
"Hi ya, Eva," he snapped, waving a friendly greeting. "I missed you."
It was the uniform that finally gave her the clue. A little label sewn above the breast pocket read; JOHNNY'S TV SERVICE.
As recognition came, Eva tried to slam the door in his face. A protruding foot, his, got in the way. He pushed the panel open and sauntered in. "You remember me, don't you, honey?"
Eva did. This was Johnny, the man who'd taken a week to fix her television set.