Chapter 8

It was nearly dawn when they approached town. Both of them were drained. Their all-night sex circus had finally drained them, at least, for a while.

Jim said, "I'll never understand girls."

"Why?"

"Last night, after I picked you up, you said you couldn't go through with this go-go job and all that it entailed. Now, after a night of lovemaking, you've changed your mind again and want to go through with it."

"Girls are fickle."

"All fickled up, huh?"

"Something like that," she giggled.

"Seriously, would you mind telling me what changed your mind?"

"Seriously, would you mind if I didn't?"

"Tsk, tsk." He shrugged. "Girls, girls!"

"Bah, humbug?"

"Not quite."

She cuddled close to him, finger-walked on his lap, and she was sad because this night of nights was drawing to an end. The past hours, her thrilling sexual interlude, had made her realize she was more deeply involved with Jim than she'd guessed, and if her work for him was to suddenly end ... She panicked, thinking of this. She wouldn't see him. If she was of no value to him, he'd have to ask somebody else to help him; their budding relationship would be over.

"I still wish you'd tell me what changed your mind," he said, holding her hand.

"No can do. A girl has such a thing as pride. Not much, you understand, but some."

"And you're going to take the job?"

"I'll start tonight"

He squeezed her hands. "How will I ever repay you?" he asked, his manner almost theatrical.

"Repay me?" She smiled confidently. "I'll figure out a way."

The Cave was absolute bedlam that night. Every table was occupied, the bar was crammed and Laurie couldn't comprehend the sudden onrush of business.

While she was dressing, Carbo crowded into the office-dressing room to see how Laurie looked in the new costume he'd bought her, a French mini-skirt sewn with black sequins and a peek-a boo top with nipple cutouts about the size of a penny.

"It's a gasser!" Carbo said, admiring her from top to bottom, and especially attracted by her black patent leather go-go boots that climbed above her knees and were cinched in the soft white flesh of her thighs. "You'll create a mass orgasm."

Laurie smiled a thank you.

"D'you think it's too risque?"

"Nothing is too risque at The Cave. That's why we get the business while the other places starve."

"But it wasn't this busy last night."

"That's right, it wasn't. But Sid's a smart boy. He spread the word around, got an ad in the daily paper-you're IT, honey!"

"Y'mean all those people out there...."

"Are here to see you." He shoved the evening paper in front of her face. "Look at this."

Laurie scanned the large advertisement appearing at the top of the entertainment page:

LEWD-LUSCIOUS-LURID AND LOVELY THE LASCIVIOUS LAURIE, LUSTFUL LOLLIPOP A LA GO-GO! APPEARING NIGHTLY

"They always turn out in droves for a newcomer, and, kiddo, you're the most!"

Laurie glanced at herself in the mirror and saw Vince Carbo's eyes caressing her bouncy posterior. Her own eyes went to the reflection of her halter. The pinks of her nipples were inserted in the cutouts, held there by the tightness of the halter. The pink-on-black looked like a large bead on first examination, but closer up....

"I hope they like me," she said worriedly.

"They will," Vince said confidently. "They'll go out of their cotton-pickin' minds, I tell you."

"When do I go on?"

"Right after the next set," he said, and then he felt her up-"for good luck, honey,"-and made his way back to the bar.

Laurie collected her thoughts, trying to remember everything that Jim had told her. She was to try and make the acquaintance of a Tri-Central senior by the name of Eddie Prohaska. Eddie frequented The Cave, his deportment was alarmingly bad, and if anyone was even remotely connected with LSD, Eddie Prohaska would be that one. He was, according to Jim, a self-appoint ed lady killer and he was certain the world would die without him.

"I hate him before I meet him," Laurie had told the professor.

"You may change your mind. He's disarmingly handsome."

"I'll be on my guard."

"You'd better be," he warned her, and as Laurie thought about it in these minutes before she went on stage, she was inordinately certain that nothing ... not even Eddie Prohaska ... could disrupt her feelings about Professor Richardson. Jim was her heartbeat. She needed no other.

At 11 o'clock, a four-piece combo took to the stage and got the crowd rocking. Midway in the second heat, Carbo gave her the whistle.

"I'm scared," she told him.

"Sure you are. Everybody is the first time. But once you're up there and digging that beat. . go ahead, kid. Knock 'em dead!"

Laurie smiled half-heartedly and climbed the short stairway to the stage. The spotlight tagged her and the whistles and enthusiastic cat-calls threatened to drown out the music. Laurie was encouraged. She threw herself into the beat, which wasn't difficult, considering the band's top-notch drummer. The first run-through came off fine-especially with no rehearsal-and they blasted into a repeat.

Laurie was more relaxed by now, the rhythm had "reached her," and she gave the crowd what they'd come for; the low-down stuff, hot and dirty, socking it to them, right in the groin. It was wilder than burlesque because Laurie made it that; and not because of what she wore or what she didn't wear. It was raw because she felt lewd.

Raw because her every movement spelled it out.

Some of the dancers stopped to watch her; others continued, hopelessly outdone. The bar was at a standstill, everyone transfixed by the wild things Laurie was doing with her body. Some couldn't contain their enthusiasm.

"Shake it, baby! ... take it off! ... down in front! ... yeowwww!"

Laurie gave it more shake. Her breasts were all but jumping out of their flimsy confinement. Many prayed that they would. And her pelvis, belting to and fro with the beat of the combo, became a primitive display of vertical intercourse.

When it was over, they cried for more, Laurie gave it another twenty or thirty bars, and then she begged off and made for the sidelines and a drink. The combo leader promised the crowd she'd soon be back. Meanwhile, Laurie found herself holding a drink that Carbo had readied for her; there were six or seven young men crowding around, not only wanting to congratulate her, but planning, apparently, to grab a free feel.

She adjusted quickly to the roaming hands of those around her-part of the game, Vince Carbo whispered in her ear-and settled down at the bar to enjoy her drink.

"To use a tired cliche, you brought down the house, Laurie."

Laurie turned around and greeted Sid Laska, whom she wasn't particularly happy to see.

"Join the free feelers."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Sit down and buy me a drink. The house gets 90 percent, but what the hell...."

"Later. Right now I'm looking for Vince."

Laurie pointed him out. "Before you leave, Sid, did you ever hear of an Eddie Prohaska?"

"Is it something you eat?"

"Be serious."

"Never heard of him. Want me to ask around?"

Laurie told him no, she'd find out herself.

"You got the hots for him, maybe."

"I've got the hots for everyone, Sid. Haven't you heard? I'm lewd, luscious, lascivious Laurie."

"Sounds like 'L,'" he said, and grinned his way into the crowd.

At midnight, Laurie jumped to the stage for another set and she repeated her act at one and two. Several men bought her drinks, a dozen or more felt her up "accidentally," but the one she was seeking-Eddie Prohaska-failed to show.

At closing time, Vince Carbo was rubbing his hands together in front of the cash register.

"I think we set a new record."

Laurie was tired, anxious to crawl into bed. Gross receipts interested her not.

"I think I'll get dressed," she told Vince.

He closed the register, came toward her with a bourbon bottle and two empty whiskey glasses. "First we've got to have a little toast."

Laurie didn't really want or need any more to drink. She was still reeling from earlier drinks, but she didn't want to rouse Carbo's ire.

"Make it a small one, okay."

He naturally made it a large one. He leaned over the bar and they clicked glasses. His eyes licked her breasts.

"To the new alliance, Laurie."

"Right, Vince. Cheers." She threw the bourbon down like an old veteran, and it was the first time she'd ever drunk it straight. She nearly gagged, it burned all the way to her stomach.

"One more and then we'll close shop."

"Not me," Laurie said, "I've had enough."

"One more won't kill you," he said, and before she could protest, the drink was poured.

Laurie resolved to drink it fast, then make a dash for the dressing room before he got the bright idea of pouring her still another one. She'd reached her limit, even surpassed it.

She did exactly that, then climbed down from the stool. Vince caught her at the end of the bar. His gorilla-like hands held her by her bare waist.

"I'll drive you home," he said.

"I can call a cab."

"Wouldn't think of it." He kissed her ear, ran his hands up and down her half-naked backside.

She wiggled away from him. "Vince, there's people...."

"They're drunk."

"Not that drunk." She hurried to the dressing room in Vince's office.

She was amazed by the sudden numbing effect of the booze. Those straight bourbons had all but plundered her ship. She felt giddy, dizzy. The whole room was rocking.

Getting dressed, she didn't bother to put on her underclothes; she was just too bombed, the hour was too late, and her drunken logic was: What's the use of putting on my panties and bra? When I get home I'm only going to take them off.

She looked briefly in a mirror; plain black mini-skirt, a sleeveless pink turtle-neck. Her hard little nipples were quite visible; the miniskirt hugged hell out of her curvy young behind. Feeling more dizzy by the minute, she climbed into her black go-go boots, draped her light-wear coat over her arm, then made her way slowly out to the bar. To her surprise there were still ten or twelve people in the place, drinking, guffawing, spending their money. The band had left, the lights were lowered, and, presumably, the door was locked; however, as long as the college crowd had dollars to part with, Vince Carbo was willing to break the law to take them.

"They won't be much longer," he said, "and then I'll take you home."

She was leaning heavily on the bar, dazed by all the drinks she'd consumed. "Vince, I can get a cab."

His meaty red face was on top of her. "Wouldn't hear of it" He poured her another drink. She told him she didn't want any more. "Last one," he said. "Drink up."

Laurie grit her teeth and swallowed the hard, biting liquid. Carbo laughed at the face she made. "You'll learn," he grinned.

"I doubt it," she said thickly.

Vince, sex and lust burning into his piggish eyes, left her to wipe the bar. Laurie knew what was on his mind and she didn't know if she could stand another night of having this big ape pawing her body, making her kiss him all over. Laska could have driven her home-the lesser of two evils-but he was passed out at the other end of the bar. If she could just call Jim.

"Little girls shouldn't sit and drink by themselves. There's a law that reads...."

Laurie was slow in focusing her vision. She didn't recognize the light-haired young man, who had suddenly joined her, but he was pleasant-faced and good-looking, and somewhat drunkenly, she said:

"H'ya."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"You could," she said after an incredibly long pause, "but I don't think I'd drink it."

He grinned good-naturedly. "You're Laurie, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Caught your act earlier," he smiled approvingly, "and it's not bad."

"Thank you," she said, her speech very thick.

"Sure I can't buy a drink?"

She hesitated. Carbo was ogling her from the other end of the bar. Laurie read his mind.

"You can buy me a drink on one condition," she said.

"Accepted."

"Don't you want to know what the condition is?"

"What is it?"

"Would you drive me home?"

"D'you think you can trust me?"

"I probably can't," she said, "but under the circumstances," she shot a disdainful glance at the girth of Vince Carbo "I'll take my chances with you."

He smiled wickedly. "You may regret it." She felt silly. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"C'mon."

"What about my drink?"

"I've got a flask in my car." She said, "I better tell Mr. Carbo."

"He your mother?"

"No, silly, but he was going to drive me home, and now I can tell him he won't have to." She waved to him. "Vince," she called. "I got a ride!"

He sent her a displeased nod. "I don't think he was too happy," Laurie's companion said, guiding her to the door.

"Who cares?"

"Well, he is your boss."

Laurie shrugged it of lightly. "He needs me more than I need him, so I'm not going to worry about it."

"I like your attitude." He opened the door of his shiny black T-bird.

Laurie lowered herself into the car. Her mini-skirt, always a problem, getting in and out of cars, crawled up to her hips. She shot him a drunken smile, saw the excitement that danced briefly in his eyes, and as he closed the door and came around to the other side of the car, she suddenly remembered that she was without panties. No wonder he'd had such excitement in his eyes, she thought. He'd seen everything! The whole show.

He climbed in beside her, started the motor. "Would you like to stop somewhere for something to eat?"

"I better not," she said. "I've got early morning classes."

"Tri-Central?" She nodded.

"Shake." He extended his hand. "You too?"

"Final year."

"I'm just a freshman," she offered deprecatingly.

"Funny we've never met." He opened the glove compartment and took out the flask of whiskey. "I don't have a chaser."

"Maybe I'd better not drink any more."

"One won't hurt you."

"I've been hearing that all evening,"

"Not from me you haven't."

She paused. His warm blue eyes implored her so pleasantly that she decided not to refuse. She took the flask, drank briefly of it, had a second swallow when he insisted, then handed it back to him. He matched her drink, screwed the cap on, and returned the flask to the compartment

"Contact!" he announced, a World War I fighter pilot.

"Let 'er rip," Laurie laughed.

"Bomb bay doors closed?"

"Check."

"Flaps up?"

"Check."

"Skirt up?"

"Huh?"

"Skirt up. How can I kiss you if your skirt isn't up?"

"Idiot"

Suddenly his hands were on her bare thighs. His arm went around her shoulders.

"I thought you were going to drive me home."

"I am. But first we have to prime the carburetor."

She didn't resist the kiss and inasmuch as he'd been kind enough to take her home-well, why not? But the kiss became more than a kiss. His hot hands started stroking her young thighs, his tongue worked her lips apart, and she was startled by the rebellion of her reflexes. The drink had paralyzed her defenses; seconds later, she was actually welcoming his advances. And when his knuckles began prying between her clamped-together thighs, she suddenly opened them and let herself be felt at will.

"I knew you wanted this. The minute I saw you, I knew."

"How did you know?" she murmured, her legs spreading wider and wider apart.

"The way you were showing your can off back there."

"That's my job."

"I don't mean when you were dancing. I mean, when you were bent over at the bar, no panties on under that short skirt."

"But how-"

"How did I know?"

She said, "Yes. How did you know?"

"You've heard of mind readers?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm a bottom reader."

"A what?"

"Never mind, just kiss me."

"This is crazy."

"Why?"

"I don't even kow your name."

He worked his finger in and out of her body, making it feel better and better for her. "My name, if it really matters, is Eddie ... Eddie Prohaska."