Chapter 6
Laurie was in no condition to resist Sid Laska. Her drink-fogged mind refused to function. Her arms and legs felt like rubber. And then when his hands started roaming her body, touching her everywhere, she became putty in his hands wanting fulfillment, wanting a man.
Laska lifted her in his arms and carried her to a dimly-lit bedroom at the back of his apartment. Laurie, somewhat insensible, heard Laska ripping off his clothes. She tried to focus her eyes, found herself giggling.
"Laurie's a little ol' go-go girl, but in a minute" she hiccupped, "I'm gonna be a little ol' come-come girl."
Laska was suddenly beside her as she giggled at her own joke. He began fondling her breasts but Laurie was too overcome with drink to register pleasure.
"Mr. Laska ... I think I'm drunk."
"A little."
"And you're feeling me up, huh?"
"Some."
She laughed at something which struck her as funny, but at the moment everything was funny. Funny and hazy.
"Mr. Laska?"
"What, Laurie?"
"You're a contributor." She hiccupped. "D'you know what a contributor is? D'you?" Another hiccup. "A contributor to a minor is ... is highly illegal."
Sid Laska said, "You're right, Laurie. Highly illegal." His hand disappeared between her thighs.
"And it's not only against the law," she said thickly, "but it's immoral, unethical, indecent, and ... and it feels wonderful!" She sighed. "And if you stop, Mr. Laska, if you stop, then I will hate your guts."
Laska's tongue leaped out for her nipple. His hand pistoned itself between her squirming thighs. Laurie groaned.
"Now you can dance," he said, working his hand back and forth. "Y'can dance to your heart's delight."
"I'm drunk," Laurie mumbled.
"And you're a bad girl, too. You're bad and you ought to be spanked."
"Huh?"
"Spanked. Isn't that what your parents did to you when you were little and you did something you weren't supposed to?"
Laurie's thinking processes were numbed. Why did he ask stupid questions? she wondered. Why had he stopped what he was doing?
"Laurie?"
She blinked her eyes. Her vision swam. Laska was standing up. He looked angry. "They did spank you, didn't they?"
"Huh?"
Sid Laska was gazing sadistically at her naked body. His hands opened and closed.
"Answer me," he ordered, his voice suddenly foreign.
Laurie fought the cobwebs of drink. Her lips felt thick.
"Damn you!" Laska cursed.
She saw him leap toward her, felt herself being rolled over on her stomach. His hand shot through space. A stinging slap caught her on her young backside. She felt it, but fuzzed with whiskey, there was no pain. He slapped her bare behind a second time and she wiggled away from him. He grabbed her just before she slid off the bed and pulled her across his lap.
"What are you doin'?" she giggled.
"Giving you what you need. A good sound thrashing."
Laurie giggled. And then she felt another of Sid Laska's slaps on her young behind and she realized he meant what he said. He was going to spank her. Spank her good.
She struggled to get off his lap. His strength surprised her. He gripped her waist with his left hand, spanked her quivering behind with his right. Laurie screamed. She wiggled like a wet eel.
"A regular little mink, aren't you?" He rained new blows upon her buttocks.
"You're hurting me."
"I'm trying to."
"Mr. Laska...."
He slapped her backside again and again. She slipped and squirmed on his naked thighs. His maleness throbbed against her pink-nippled breasts. And then it was crazy. All crazy. Crazy because he was spanking her. Crazy because her drink-paralyzed brain told her it felt good. And it did! Nothing she could figure out. Nothing that made sense. But each time his bare hand whacked her backside, a series of thrills and chills ran up and down her spine.
He sensed her excitement, for he suddenly forced her back on the bed, and climbed between her thighs. Her squirming grew frantic. She guided him where he wanted to go. He gave a shove. Laurie sucked in her breath. Her young thighs yawned apart. She accepted him. AH of him. And then her body ran away with her; she was all over the bed: a young rebel in heat.
"That's the way," he whispered hoarsely. "Y'pretend you're up on a stage doin' the go-go ... yeahhhh!"
Laurie sobered briefly. She recognized the black depths of his desires and suddenly she knew why she didn't like him. He was the epitome of evil. His dark eyes were filled with it. She wanted to run from the evil, fight it, kill it. But an "x"-factor overcame morality. An "x" factor that drove her to the evil she despised. And then she wanted to be soiled, dirtied by the foul range of his passions, raged upon as rage he would; and to that insane end, she squirmed and pumped and thrust and moaned. Sweet delirium enveloped her. Her hot young body was pumping faster and faster, and she was screaming obscenities at him when the thrills and delirium became too much and she passed out.
"I feel horrible," Laurie told the professor when he phoned her at her apartment later that evening. "Sick at my stomach, headache...."
"Sounds like you're coming down with something."
"Yeah, a hangover." She told him about her afternoon with Sid Laska-or what she remembered of it, and she carefully omitted what she preferred to forget. "And I think I got slightly naughty," she said, trying to salvage some humor.
"A helluva spy!"
"I'm a beginner. Give me time."
"Did Laska take you on?"
Laurie tenderly patted her bruised behind. "He sure did!"
"I mean did he sign you up?"
"On the dotted line." She sipped the hot tea she had poured herself just before he phoned. "And tonight, if I recover, which I might not, he's taking me out to Carbo's Cave."
"You're practically a star."
"Twinkle, twinkle."
"When Laska waltzes you into The Cave...."
"Carbo gets rigor mortis of the you-know-what and I'm hired. Is that it?"
"That's it"
"Am I doin' okay, Jim?' "You get an A-plus, sweetheart" Laurie's heart skipped a beat She wondered if Jim really meant it calling her "sweetheart." Jim."
"Yes."
She broke off the question, fabricated a new one:
"You're not going to hang up yet are you?"
"No."
"I'm glad," she said, "cause I feel like talking to someone."
And talk, she did. For nearly twenty minutes. Little talk that carefully circumvented the theatrical, though, heaven knows, she wanted to be theatrical, wanted to tell him how she missed him, but what was the use of dreaming? He didn't feel the same about her and so she'd simply have to wait until he did.
"You be careful out there tonight"
"Careful?"
"That's right," he said. "We don't know what we're monkeying around with, so don't overplay your hand."
"Y'mean...."
"Don't get too clever or ask too many questions. Keep your eyes and ears open...."
"How 'bout my arms?"
"Be serious. This could be dangerous, dammit."
"You mean I might lose my honor?"
"Or your head."
Sid Laska arrived at ten-thirty. His eyes roamed up and down Laurie's figure, which was displayed to special advantage by a tight-fitting, extra-short white knit dress.
"Mmm. Nicey, nicey!"
"I feel lousy."
"A pick-me-up'll take care of that."
"A what?"
"Whiskey over ice. Great for what ails you." Laurie grimaced, "Not for me."
"I'm your manager, ain't I?"
"Yes."
"Then let me manage you."
Laurie shrugged and let herself be guided to his car. She accidentally rewarded him for his chivalry when he held the car door open for her and she climbed inside. Her dress slid above her nylons; Sid Laska couldn't have helped but see her transparent bikini panties. The fact that his face was flushed proved it.
When they were free of the traffic and Laska was wheeling the Buick convertible toward the town of Stratton, he put his hand between Laurie's nyloned thighs.
"You're too far away."
Laurie didn't feel particularly sexy but she decided she ought to keep Sid Laska in a good mood so she moved closer.
"How's the backside?"
"Sore."
He grinned proudly, pushing her brief dress up above her nylons. His warm hand entertained her bare flesh. Laurie felt a quick unexpected thrill.
"You'd better watch the road."
He worked her dress up to her panties.
"I'd rather watch that." His fingers crept inside the wispy defenses of her panties.
Laurie was rather astounded by her feelings. She didn't feel well, she didn't particularly care for Sid Laska, but all he had to do was fondle her between her legs, and presto, she was hot. But was this to be her lifelong curse? she wondered.
"Maybe we ought to stop somewhere," Sid Laska suggested.
Laurie struggled with herself briefly and regrouped her feelings.
"I'd rather not," she said, striving for tact. "I don't feel well."
Laska worked his fingers in and out of her panties in a steadily increasing rhythm.
"You feel all right to me," he grinned. "Just fine."
They did not stop but went directly to The Cave, Sid had been feeling her up all the way here, and walking across the parking lot and into The Cave, Laurie was so hot she was weak. Her legs actually felt rubbery and if Sid had pressed her against the brick outside of this place, again worked his hand between her young thighs, she would have capitulated immediately, let Sid do it to her in plain sight of everyone.
The Cave, much to their surprise, was empty.
Empty except for a solitary customer sitting at the bar a decrepit and elderly man.
"Monday's must be an off-night," Sid Laska offered, guiding Laurie across the darkened dance floor and up to the oval bar. "But later in the week-and I know-the place jumps off the foundation."
Laurie smiled faintly and climbed onto a red leather bar stool next to Sid Laska. Her sexual excitement had not subsided and she wished Sid hadn't worked her up like this. She felt like teasing him back, which was why she let her dress rise considerably above her stocking tops while perched on the bar stool. Ironically, Sid was less inclined to look than the old duffer who sat at the end of the bar and who now came rapidly to life. But there was a reason for Sid's inattention; the huge man who stood with his back to them, counting change into the cash register. Sid nudged her, which she took to mean that this was Vince Carbo, owner and entrepreneur of The Cave.
They waited briefly and Laurie became irritated because Vince Carbo hadn't acknowledged their presence. She whispered this, in part, to Sid, who then nodded, drummed his fingers on the bar, and when all else failed, finally said:
"Well here we are, Vince. We made it."
Carbo grunted; however, he did not turn around. He counted more pennies, and thick clouds of blue smoke curled from the cigar in his mouth. His rudeness touched off a spark of anger in Laurie. She was ready to leave, and leave now. Sid calmed her down with a paternal pat of the hand.
"This is her," he said, when Vince finally closed the register drawer and lumbered over to them. "The hottest thing since the discovery of fire."
Carbo was unimpressed or, at least, he failed to pay her the courtesy of a smile. She was able to quickly pigeonhole him. A smalltime barkeep who entertained delusions of grandeur, and who used his physical size to strengthen that delusion. He was huge, all right, this she'd concede. But there was something comic in his handling of the cigar, for it was supposed to help him emulate toughness-maybe he'd seen Edward G. do it on a late-late movie-but instead of looking tough, he looked, ready to throw up, Laurie decided. His jowled face was contorted and his piggish eyes seemed about to be swallowed by his cheeks. He was tieless in a white shirt, which looked ready to burst loose of its buttons, and to impress everyone further he rolled up his sleeves, making certain that his mammoth hairy arms were exposed.
Seeing all this in a short, quick glance, Laurie offered him a tight, somewhat frightened smile. Sid Laska was less than professional, obviously nervous. His quivering, almost falsetto voice betrayed him.
"This one's special, Vince ... shakes herself from the inside of her sweet little toes and all the way up to her king-size jugs."
Carbo grimaced tiredly. He sifted the cigar from one side of his thick lips to the other.
"I need another go-goer like Samson needed another haircut."
"But this one's different, Vince."
"They're all different," Carbo shot back disdainfully, and had Sid turned to her and said, "C'mon, Laurie, let's shove," she would have been greatly relieved. She didn't like the dingy atmosphere of The Cave, she didn't like Carbo and his big-wheeling indifference, and mostly, she didn't believe in crawling on her hands and knees to get a job. But Sid Laska-count on him for persistence-did not give up this easily. He was a born pusher. The hard sell excited him.
"Vince, once you see this little heartthrob in action, you'll go out of your cotton-pickin' mind."
"And I'll go out of my mind if I don't get some business."
"Then Laurie's what you need. She shakes and the customers come a-running." He rubbed his hands together. "Vince, this is exam time. Things are always slow then. But by next week...." His voice had gathered new enthusiasm. "By next week they'll be bouncing back here and they'll see Laurie bouncing some things of her own ... Christ, Vince, you'll have a full house."
Carbo blew cigar smoke. His eyes reached out for Laurie's breasts. Was he interested in her as a dancer she wondered; or was he just getting himself an eyeful? Then suddenly, very suddenly, she had her answer: Carbo pinched her breast.
Laurie froze. The total unexpectedness of his pass left her speechless. Before she could react, Carbo, grinning lewdly, withdrew his hand.
"That wasn't to cop a free feel," he said, "but I gotta know if the merchandise is for real. In this business," he gnawed the cigar furiously, "we get a lot of fakers, and foam rubber we don't need."
Laurie was infuriated. Who did he think he was, touching her like that, saying what he had? She clenched her small fists, wishing suddenly that she could whip her breasts out of her brassiere and hit him in the mouth with them. Then he'd know that they were real. He'd know it for sure.
"They're real, Mr. Carbo," she said testily, and in her anger, she almost added: "But you'll never find out," only she checked her feelings in time.
"How 'bout it, Vince. Give her a chance."
Vince Carbo nodded tiredly.
"Go in my office," he said, yanking the cigar from his mouth. "You'll find some costumes hanging up behind my desk. Pick out what fits and we'll see what you can do."
Laurie smiled weakly at Sid, then back at Vince Carbo. She slid down from her stool and the old timer who'd been watching the ceremonies from the other end of the bar did not miss the scorching revelation of Laurie's young thighs. He'd probably also seen her panties, Laurie guessed, and touched by a spell of wickedness, she winked at him as she walked by on her way to Carbo's office.
The costumes she discovered hanging in Carbo's office were skimpy, indeed. The outfit she selected was nothing more than a wide band of red and silver spangles for the bottom; even less for the top.
Laurie stood in front of a large mirror, held the costume to the front of her dress and whistled. She closed the door and removed her clothes. She hung her dress over the office desk, placed her panties and brassiere and nylons on the seat of his swivel chair, and as she stole a glance at the image of her naked body, she was grateful she had a lovely body. She turned sideways, indulging herself in another moment of hot narcissism, remembering how, during her early teens, she'd done this in the privacy of her bedroom late at night. Her boobies were as big then as they were now, and she'd been lucky to have so much so soon. She used to rub them, she remembered. Stand in front of the dresser mirror at home and play with her nipples, make them get hard and stand up, and the harder and longer she did it, the better the feeling grew-just as it was growing now.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Laurie released herself. She stood behind the door.
"Yes."
"Can you open the door a crack? I got you a drink," Vince Carbo announced.
Laurie opened the door slightly, enough for Vince to hand her the drink.
"Thanks."
"You almost ready?" he asked from the narrow opening, unable to see her. "Just about."
"I'll be waiting."
Laurie closed the door, took a swift gulp of the tall bourbon highball that he'd brought her. She set the glass down, and then as she stood at the mirror, donning the costume, it occurred to her that Vince had probably seen plenty, because although she'd hidden behind the door, she'd forgotten the mirror, and if Vince had glanced at the mirror ... well, why not, she thought resignedly. Men could see just as much, if not more, by simply purchasing a copy of Playboy. Perhaps the free show would help her get the job. Then she could telephone Professor Richardson, tell him things were working out the way he planned-and maybe then a few things would work out the way she planned.
Five minutes later she emerged from the office-dressing room. She felt slightly self-conscious with Carbo, Laska, and the old man staring at her, but the feeling didn't last. Once Carbo dropped a quarter in the juke box, then motioned her to "turn it on," Laurie's young confidence returned.
She shook her little bikinied bottom for all its worth. Her thrusts were sassy, calculated to provoke, made to damn a man's soul. She moved to the range of the juke box, letting its bright lights accent her long hair, her curvy behind, her kissable, darling-small waist. Her breasts, neither confined nor concealed by the next-to-nothing halter she wore, made her look like a teeny bopper racing around a schoolyard without a brassiere. Her nipples were revealed and her daring, swollen mounds jiggled on the upbeat and jiggled on the downbeat, and there was every reason in the world for believing that her hard pink nipples would jump right in their hungry faces.
Sid Laska and Vince Carbo were plainly captivated by their 18-year-old "find." Her young body was rocking them where it counted. Sure, there were other girls who would come up here on the bandstand and do this, but none so young, so tender; and this was Laurie's source of confidence. She knew she was appealing jailbait, that her aura of devil-tainted innocence was driving them wild.
Dancing closer to them, shaking her boobies, her young behind, she saw a bulge that told of Sid's excitement, read the lust in Carbo's dark piggish eyes, and with a not unpleasant sensation, she noted that even the old man was getting his jollies, for his hands had disappeared under his coat, and Laurie could guess what he was doing.
When the dance was completed, Laurie went back to the "dressing room" immediately. She didn't wait for Carbo's decision, feeling if she was good enough, he'd tell her when she came out.
But Laurie didn't have to wait until she came out. Carbo was instantly behind her, entering without knocking, bearing her a fresh drink, a fresh smile.
"You looked pretty good."
Laurie thanked him, accepted the drink.
"I think I can find a spot for you, ail right," he said, his ravenous eyes eating at the dark shadow between her breasts. "And I also think you can help us improve the business."
Laurie thanked him again. She'd apparently misjudged him, she thought, and she reminded herself that everybody had their "ways," and it was best to try and adapt yourself-especially, if it meant getting a job.
"Might have to do a few things about your make-up," he continued, and he made her sit down, giving her some pointers about eye liner and eye shadow and lip gloss, and doing all this in a pleasant and constructive sort of way that left Laurie feeling totally guilty about her earlier judgment of the man. "You want to look as sexy as you can when you're up there on that stage," he told her, "and that shouldn't be too difficult for you."
Laurie smiled gratefully. She sipped her highball.
"Sometimes when the crowd's just right, we give 'em a little extra for their money."
Laurie concealed her suspicions. With difficulty, Carbo continued. "I mean, we let 'em see a topless go-go." He waited. "D'you object to showing your breasts?"
Laurie wanted to sound like a real professional. She took a large swallow of her drink, shrugged indifferently, and she said:
"Why should I mind?"
"Do you care if I see them now?" Laurie remained the professional. His voice and approach was so utterly academic that she never questioned his motives; and while she reached behind her to unclasp her spangled halter, Carbo thoughtfully closed the door. He presently returned to her side and his scrutiny ... not unnerving, thanks to the drinks ... centered on her nipples.
Unsmiling, the continuing epitome of professionalism, he said, "Just as I thought."
Laurie stiffened. Was there something wrong with her teenage melons?
"The color's all wrong," he said. "Color?"
"Your nipples."
Laurie looked at her breasts, specifically, her nipples.
"What's wrong with the color?"
"Too pale. Won't show up on the stage." He shook his head. "Gimme your lipstick."
Laurie fumbled in her purse, found a tube. Carbo smeared some of its lipstick on his fingertips, then rubbed them together until he had the desired effect. Laurie knew what he was going to do and bridled slightly.
"You don't mind, d'you?" he asked, bending over her.
Laurie fought down her reluctance, remembering the importance of not only looking like a professional, but also acting like one.
"Oh, I don't mind."
Carbo smiled paternally.
"What you have to do," each of his hands had found a breast, a nipple. He was working the lipstick onto her nipples and their aureoles. "Y'rub it in like this, y'see...."
Laurie felt a pleasant sensation course through her body. She knew he was only instructing her about make-up, but it felt so good she didn't want him to stop.
"Makes 'em look more kissable to the audience," Carbo said, continuing his gentle ministrations to her breasts.
Laurie sucked in her breath. She was going to tell Mr. Carbo to squeeze them but she decided that would be too forward of her.
"Something else about coloring your nipples, Laurie-working 'em over and over in your fingers like this makes them get hard. They stick out, y'see, and that gives them more appeal for the audience."
Laurie just about fainted. And Carbo wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. She'd done erotic things like this since puberty and she knew how your nipples grew hard when you played with them.
Carbo's warm hands continued to stroke her breasts. Her breath quickened. The insistent throbbing in her young loins demanded an answer. Carbo said:
"D'you see how hard your nipples have become."
Laurie could hardly sit still, she was so excited. She nodded feebly.
"And if you pull on 'em, like this...."
Laurie sighed out loud. She couldn't help it. And her eyes rolled and glazed.
"If you keep it up," Carbo whispered, pressing his trouser front against her bare arm, "everything gets hard."
Laurie couldn't help herself. She wanted sex. Wanted it now. Wanted it bad. And she had no qualms when Vince Carbo, lowered his zipper, exposed himself. She was too hot for qualms. Too hot for petty reluctance. And when he boldly guided her hands to his excitement, she was glad. She stroked him in a meaningful and not hesitant manner, swelling the erection of his desire until it seemed ready to burst from his loins.
"In between 'em," he said hoarsely.
Laurie understood. She cupped her breasts, pulled them slightly apart. Vince Carbo grunted and pressed himself between them. Laurie squeezed her breasts together, trapping him in a soft hot vise that was surely the wonderment of the ages. Vince groaned. He worked his hips back and forth. His face darkened. Convulsions of excitement brimmed in his eyes. The strength of him pushed in and out of her breasts. Laurie overflowed with joy. She unconsciously worked her thighs together and apart.
Suddenly Vince went to his tip-toes. At the same time, his hands cupped themselves behind Laurie's head and he exerted a gentle downward pressure. Laurie understood that Vince Carbo wanted her to perform an unnatural act upon him.
She stiffened with immediate reluctance. She'd never done anything like this before and she was frightened. Carbo urged her with hot whispers. Laurie balked. She'd do it for the professor, but with Carbo?
"C'mon, Laurie ... please."
She was going to tell him no and let the chips fall where they may. But then she knew where the chips would fall. She wouldn't get the job and she wouldn't be able to help the professor; and by the same token, a lot of innocent kids might get their hands on the dreaded LSD and be ruined forever.
"C'mon, Laurie," he said, quivering in her face . "Are you gonna?"
Laurie didn't answer. But she thought of ruined bodies and ruined minds and then she parted her kissing-sweet, teeny bopper lips. Carbo entered her. He groaned. Laurie stroked him with her tongue.
"Mmmmm!" he sighed loudly, thrusting himself back and forth in her warm, moist mouth.
Laurie worked feverishly at her art. She deplored what she was doing to Vince Carbo and all she could do was to hope that somebody benefitted from this perverted act-somebody besides Vince Carbo.