Chapter 5
They were sipping after-lunch coffee in a wayside diner that was at least 15 miles from the campus as the professor pointed out, "If you're going to be of any value to me as a sort of ... well, spy ... we can't be seen together. It'll be like this, some place way out, for an hour or two, and probably late at night."
"I like the last part."
"You would. I think you're a sex fiend."
"Do you mind?"
He felt her leg under the table.
"I love it!" he said.
"And will these secret meetings take place in bed?"
"Always and always."
"Then you just hired yourself a spy," she said. "And not just any ol' spy," she added, "but an 18-year-old whoring spy, and that's even better than James Bond does."
"Which makes me choice?"
"Which makes you choice."
They laughed lightly and held hands and he was not the professor, he was now "Jim," and she sensed-not sensed, but knew-she'd fallen in love with him; and so she'd do just about anything he asked. And now there was the business of her getting a job in this go-go joint
"Which you haven't as yet got," he reminded her. "It's got to go through channels."
"Will it hurt?"
"You'll have to audition for Sid," he said, rushing over what she had quipped, "and if Sid thinks you have what it takes...."
"Sid will take it?"
"No, silly."
She laughed.
"Who is Sid?"
"Sid Laska is a former student of mine ... a dropout. And just now ... well, he's a smalltime booking agent. Handles combos, singers, AND...." His hand went under her miniskirt and fondled her thighs. "He also happens to manage a stable of go-go girls, and you...."
"Will meet him and charm him and go to bed with him...."
"Will you be serious for just a minute?"
"But I am serious."
"Sid'll decide," he said, withdrawing his hand from under her skirt, "and if looks have anything to do with it...." He squeezed her hand. "You'll win his heart, going away."
Laurie sobered. Her smile was warm and fresh and she wondered if Jim read the love that crested in her eyes. She stared at him.
"Jim, d'you like me?"
"Now what the devil brought that on?"
"Do you?"
"Well ... sure I like you. Would I have...." He stopped. He bent close. "I think quite a bit of you, Laurie. Quite a bit."
She smiled gratefully. She'd won an important concession, which, for the time being, was enough. She'd work on him, she promised herself, and before all this was over-her eyes grew dreamy-he'd be in love with her.
"Are you ready to go to work?" he asked, seeing that she was cheered. "Ready, boss."
He smiled pleasantly, and went to a phone to call Sid Laska.
"Are you in the book?" the professor asked during the drive to Laska's apartment. "The book?"
"Phone."
"Oh, sure."
"Good. I'll call you this evening to see how you made out with Laska."
"You aren't coming up to his place with me?"
"I can't."
"But...."
"You can cut classes and get away with it. I'm not that lucky."
Laurie felt a trifle nervous about auditioning for Sid Laska in Jim's absence. She told him so.
"There's nothing to worry about," Jim said, reaching across the front seat to clasp her hand, "and Sid'll see that you get home all right."
"All to become a spy," she joked.
He fed her a half-hearted grin.
"And it might be for nothing. One big wild goose chase. This marijuana bit might be something those Trustees dreamed up, and that's just about the way I have it figured."
"But you want to be sure."
"Exactly." He patted her hand, smiled cheerfully.
Laurie's heart skipped a multitude of beats. His warm good looks sent her flying to the moon, and she was reading all the things she liked in his face: his kind blue eyes, the strenth of his chin, the manly bronze of last year's tan. And even though there were kooky aspects to this spy-on-the-sly thing, she was glad to be in liaison with him, glad to help him, and now if she could just make him fall in love with her....
"Jim, when will I see you again?"
"I don't know. I'll call."
"One more thing," she said as he coasted into the curb in front of Laska's apartment.
"Which is?"
"I want you to like me."
"Which I do."
"But that stuff that you looked up about me ... I'm not all bad."
"Nobody said you were. And there's a lot of good things that I never mentioned, like, for instance, your excellent grades and your volunteer hospital work when you were in high school; and then there was some summer playground counseling that you donated your time to ... and if there was time I could name other activities that you volunteered your help to."
"You learned all that?"
"And more, and as far as this sex business goes, don't make the mistake that so many people make; putting an unhealthy connotation on sex, treating it as though it were the Plague."
"But it was wrong-all those boys."
"Did it feel good?" he asked mischievously.
"Well...."
"Anything that feels good can't be totally bad."
She smiled gratefully for the rationalization, one that she'd have to remember.
"Sex is fun," he said, "and it's like politics; ifs here to stay!"
Laurie was nervous when she entered Sid
Laska's apartment. Nervous and reluctant and worried. And to make matters worse, she decided that if first impressions held any validity, she would never learn to like Sid Laska. He was seedy-looking, she thought, short and squat, and as soon as she crossed the threshold, his dark shifty eyes were raping her, making her feel naked.
"And you're Laurie."
"Yes, sir," she said nervously.
"And you want to be a go-go dancer."
"Well if I can."
Laska shot her a perfunctory glance and Laurie tried to decide just what it was that made her dislike the man. It was something other than his inclination to plumpness and the commonness of his clothes. There was something in his features ... was it evil? Or was she simply being theatrical?
"Would you care for a drink?" he said, moving off to the other side of the rather plain and elemental front room.
She thanked him and said no.
"Known the professor long?" Laska inquired from the liquor cabinet.
"Just this semester."
"He's a good boy, the professor is. Sends me a lot of talent."
Laurie was frankly surprised. She didn't know that the professor made a steady habit of providing Laska with go-go girls. She was disappointed. But then Laska explained:
"You're the first girl he ever sent. Mostly it's combos, or else a guy who can make it as a single. Spot stuff. Y'know, fill-ins." He came back, carrying a drink. "It works out pretty good for the kids. Pays tuition, or part of it. What are you studying?"
Laurie told him she hadn't decided for sure. She was majoring in science, she explained; maybe she'd go into teaching. Laska said that was nice, he joined her on the divan.
"Sure you don't want a drink?" he asked.
Laurie timidly said no.
"I suppose you're disappointed."
Laurie frowned.
"In the surroundings, in Sid Laska...."
"I didn't say anything like that."
"You didn't have to. It shows."
"But...."
"I'm small potatoes, Miss Denton. A nickel here, a nickel there. I get by, and since there aren't any little Laska's, it's enough."
Laurie didn't know what to say. He'd read her expertly and she could not conceal her guilt. She shrugged, which was about all she could do.
Laska said, "Most of the people who work for me hate my guts. But that's not important. What's important is money, and if you make some, then I'll make some, and that way everybody's happy, and who cares who likes who."
Laurie had no answer for his gross cynicism, but perhaps he was right.
"Stand up, Laurie."
She did as he asked and she was very self-conscious. His eyes raked her body in all the secret places; her swollen breasts, her curvy buttocks, up and down the front of her body, with his glance stopping where male glances always stopped.
"I'm a bastard when it comes to looking at girls, Laurie, but that's my business."
Laurie smiled faintly. Laska was trying to be friendly and Laurie decided she felt sorry for him. As worldly as he might be, she detected a loneliness in his eyes, something akin to bitterness.
"I'd tell you to pull your skirt up so I could see your legs, but" ... he grined wryly...."
"it's hardly necessary, is it?"
"I guess not," she answered, still nervous.
"But maybe you'd better pull it up," he said matter-of-factly.
Laurie faltered. Her mini-dress was plenty short and she didn't see why she had to show still more. Laska guessed her reluctance, her nervousness, and he said:
"But before you do anything," he crossed the room, rattled around in the liquor cabinet, "I think you'd better have a drink."
Laurie was going to protest, however, she didn't want to act like a dumb kid, and then Laska convinced her it was all right, saying:
"You won't be so nervous then."
"I am nervous, I guess."
"Sure you are. And if you've never auditioned ... hell, anybody'd be nervous."
She accepted the tall drink he proffered. She liked its taste, she felt immediately "grown up," and although this was the first time she'd ever sampled whiskey, she couldn't see where it was so terrible, which was what her mother had always told her.
"I'll put on some records," Laska said, "and that'll help y'find the groove."
Laurie smiled. She thought that Sid Laska was doing everything he could to help her relax, and she ought to be grateful that he was so anxious to help her. Most agents wouldn't even consider anyone so grossly inexperienced, she decided.
Suddenly a blast of rock-and-roll exploded from his small portable record player. Unconsciously, Laurie did some hip and shoulder shaking. Laska watched her. He motioned to her to raise her dress, but then he stopped her.
"Finish your drink first."
"D'you think I'll be good enough?" she asked eagerly.
"Well I don't know yet. I'll have to see." He motioned to her drink. Laurie gulped it. "Not too fast," he warned. "That stuff'll knock you on your you-know-what."
Laurie smiled bravely. She wanted to seem sophisticated.
"I'm not a kid any longer."
"I guess you're not," he said, watching her empty the glass. "And I suppose you'll be telling me you want another."
"Why not?" Laurie said, enjoying the warmth that spread from her throat to her stomach. "If it helps me relax to Mr. Laska. I just have to get this job," and she was thinking of Jim; and then Laska was brushing against her body as he moved back to the liquor cabinet, saying to her, "Well, you drink this and then we'll see what you can do."
They clicked glasses, an even bouncier record dropped onto the turntable, and they shufflestepped back to the center of the living room.
"I feel real good all at once," Laurie told him. "I don't know if it's the drink, or what."
"You're getting over your nervousness, that's what." He took a large swallow of his highball. "And it's a good idea to drink one of these now and then. Once you work the joints it becomes a part of the job, so this gets you used to it and teaches you how to handle it."
Laurie had never thought of that, which proved just how smart Mr. Laska was about this business.
"That way," he pressed his point, "you handle the liquor instead of the liquor handling you."
"Hey, that's all right!" Laurie exclaimed, feeling suddenly silly. "You handle the liquor...."
"Instead of the liquor handling you."
They laughed. Laurie emptied the second highball. She felt good inside. Warm and relaxed.
"You ready to have me try out for you now?" she asked.
"If you're not scared."
"I'm not scared."
She flounced to the center of the carpet, picked up the beat, began the frug. The shoulder shaking tossed her delicious boobies all over the place, and she was giving her hips a wicked thrust, watching Laska from the comer of her eye, studying his reaction. She decided he was impressed and she jiggled her minWress up somewhat higher, giving him a better view of her creamy thighs. Then the number ended.
"Was I good enough?" she asked, biting her lip hopefully.
"What we need," Laska said noncommittally, "is a costume."
"You don't have one?"
"Not here." He fumbled with the liquor bottle, refilled his glass.
Laurie was scared again ... not of Sid Laska, but of the fact that he was unsure of her, and if she didn't get the job....
"I'll tell you what it is," he said detachedly. "How can you tell what the circus is like when all you see is the tent?"
"Y'mean...."
"Everything's covered up. How can I tell? Am I mind reader?"
Laurie was pretty sure what she had to do, and as she thought about it, she decided that there was nothing very terrible in it. She said:
"Could I have another drink?"
"You won't get sick?"
"No."
He poured her a. king-size one. Laurie drank it swiftly, put the empty glass down. Then, and without any prelude, she removed her mini-dress, skinned it over her head, and stood in front of Sid Laska in her thin panties and white satin bra.
"Now you don't have to be a mind reader," she said, her speech suddenly thick. And then she walked back and forth in front of him, swinging her tight little behind in a way that she knew would provoke his interest; and then he'd hire her and the professor would be happy and grateful, and he'd take Laurie in his arms....
Laurie pivoted in her high-heeled patent leather shoes. Laska's eyes traveled up and down her bare legs, licked at her crotch, and bulged at the enormity of her breasts. Laurie found that she didn't mind his stares, and she told herself that she'd have to get used to stares if she was going to be a go-go dancer, and the whiskey dulled her self-consciousness, and as she continued her exhibiton, parading and shaking in front of him, she decided she liked to do it. It was even mildly exciting if you let it be.
"Will I do?" she asked a little pleadingly.
"The shape is okay." He dropped a hot record on. "But let's see what you can do with it."
No inhibitions this time, Laurie thought, and set out to prove it. She grooved it hotly, pumping her panty-clad bottom this way and that, a dirty dump-and-grind that threatened to shake her young boobies free of their satiny confinement. Laska was shouting.
"Okay, already! Okay, okay." And then he motioned her to stop.
"That's good," he said, his hand resting paternally on her bare shoulder, "but you've got to remember that these aren't Boy Scouts you're dancing for. Make it raw. Hot. Hot as you can." He poked his finger at the ribbing of her brassiere. "And that's gotta go. You'll wear pasties when you're on stage. No bra. Is that all right?"
"I guess."
"There's no guessing about it," he said acidly. "You either do it or you don't."
"I said it was all right."
"Okay, so much for that." He rubbed his hands together. "If there's no fuzz around, Carbo may have you remove the pasties from your nipples. Any objections to that?"
Laurie considered it briefly and decided that if that much of her clothing was off, why not a little more.
Laska tested her.
"Okay, take it off."
"My bra?"
He nodded.
Laurie thought: Pll show him I'm not afraid. Then he'll have to hire me.
She reached behind her back, opened the clasp. She removed her brassiere with all the professional calm she could collect. Her kissable young breasts sprung out. He whistled.
"That's a pair and-half," he breathed.
"Then I get the job," she asked excitedly.
"I don't hire you. I book you."
"Then will you book me?"
His mouth hung open. Laurie felt wicked. Extra wicked. The liquor. She shook her boobies in his face. "Will you?" she asked.
"Will I what?"
"Book me."
Laska shuddered, clenched his hands, blinked his eyes. He headed for the liquor cabinet again.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked worriedly.
"I'm in shock. Over-exposure ... to those," he gulped.
Laurie was amused. She felt silly and devilish. She came up behind Sid Laska. Her nipples brushed his sleeve. He spilled his drink.
"Did I make you do that? I'm sorry," she teased. "Little Laurie'll make you another one okay, honey?"
Laska's wearisome nonchalance died a sudden death. He was overcome by Laurie's young wickedness, and appeal of her body. And they were both a little drunk, both a little silly. Suddenly Laska grabbed her by her waist and pulled her against him.
"I told you, you were gonna hate my guts," he reminded her. And then he started pulling down her panties.