Chapter 6
THE TWO WOMEN WERE ON THE BED STARK NAKED....
For a while after the incident of the previous evening, Calla dreaded the thought of facing Mia the next morning. The dread didn't last long. She soon convinced herself that what had happened had been a mutual consent thing. Mia, despite her relative youth, had been the agressor, and except for her weakness of having surrendered, there was no reason, Calla told herself, for allowing guilt to mar her life.
She also promised herself that it wouldn't happen again, but she made that promise with mental fingers crossed. Mia had been a delicious morsel and there was that nagging doubt about whether she could turn down the next approach with a casual no thanks.
Still, it was something to worry about later. For the time being, there was the room use analysis to be completed with some interesting facts beginning to emerge.
Mia appeared for work as if nothing had happened between them and Calla was thankful for the young woman's surprising sense of diplomacy.
They settled down to work early and by ten o'clock, Calla sent her helper away for a rest while she went over what had already emerged from the long columns of statistics.
Four rooms seemed to be rented almost every night, four others had not been rented at all during the two months that had been checked. There had to be a reason for it and she knew she was going to have to find it. All this time she had been looking for a key to unlock the tight case around the mystery and this, she sensed, was the first glimpse at it.
But knowing it was there and knowing how to use it to find what she wanted were two very different things. With a deep sigh, she went back to the books. Five minutes later, she turned away from them.
The books, she decided, had given her the first lead and until she used it intelligently, there was nothing more to be found there. But if not there, then where?
It didn't take long before Calla decided that she was going to have to take a good look at the rooms in question.
Checking the board, she found that the expected four were occupied and four others were not. In each case, it tallied perfectly with the records.
Calla went to the fourth floor first to take a look at room 433. It was a traditional empty room and adjoined 431 which was almost always occupied. Opening the door, she walked in as if expecting to be greeted by a fire eating dragon. The room looked empty and innocent.
She made a careful inspection of the entire room and found everything in order. It was a perfectly good room, in good shape, clean and as good as any room in the hotel in that price range. Moving to the window, she looked across to the park and realized that it offered one of the best views on the fourth floor.
Hoping she would be able to remember every detail of the room, she walked up to the fifth floor to take a look at 519, another perpetually neglected room next door to an almost permanently occupied one.
After a thorough inspection of the room, she came up with the same results, nothing. Again it was a perfectly good room in perfect condition.
Calla didn't bother checking similiar situations on the sixth and seventh floors. The results there, she was sure, would be exactly the same.
With a sense of frustration, she found herself on the verge of screaming. The answer, she sensed, was so obvious that only a fool could fail to see it and yet she had failed miserably.
Returning to her empty office, she folded her arms over the closed books and tried to force her mind to work for her. It was a losing battle and she wasn't surprised.
No mattter how often she came back to the books, Calla told herself, she wasn't going to find the answer there. If she was going to find the answer at all, then it would be in her own mind.
Suddenly, the room became too small for her and she sensed that the whole hotel would be in the same confining category. She was going to have to get away from it so it would be possible to turn her mind loose and continue to wrestle with the problem that kept beating her no matter how she tried to lick it.
For a long time she drove aimlessly. She left the city far behind and turned the Mustang toward the road leading to the ocean. It was quiet there, quiet and beautiful and peaceful. If she had been in a better frame of mind, it would have been a perfect drive.
Pulling off the road at a clearing above the cliffs, Calla cut the engine and got out of the car. Walking, she hoped, would put her in a better frame of mind for thought. At the same time, she hoped she wasn't fooling herself.
She walked until she was too tired to take another step, then discovered that she was about two hundred yards from her car. Every step of the walk back to it was rough, but she made it eventually. As she slumped behind the wheel, she realized that the fatigue was more mental than physical. More than anything, it was a sense of defeat.
Instead of driving back to the city and the location of her problems, Calla headed the car toward Murray Bay. There was a place there where the liquor was good and the food was better. She hoped that taking advantage of both would drive the lethargy from her mind and force it to start working for her.
When she arrived, Calla decided to try the liquor first and postpone the food for a while. She maintained the postponement through three drinks before she gave in.
The food, when it arrived, appeared to be excellent but something happened to the taste as soon as she put it in her mouth. The fault, she knew, was hers rather than any deficiency on the part of the chef.
Calla knew she would be drinking more before the evening was over and that she would get into trouble if she did it on an empty stomach. She forced herself to eat.
It didn't taste any better, but as long as it didn't gag her, she kept forcing it down until her plate was almost empty. Skipping dessert, she had two cups of coffee and called it a night.
Walking back toward her car in the failing light of early evening, Calla forced herself to form a mental picture of the first room she had checked. Instantly, a picture of Room 433 was in her mind.
She saw the furniture, the floors, even the bit of cigarette ash on the bathroom floor below the mirror. And that triggered it. She stopped walking and focused on that portion of the picture.
Why should there be cigarette ash on the floor of a room that had not been used in months? The housekeeping staff at the Grange was the best. Every room in the hotel, occupied or not, was checked every day.
More than ever, Calla was sure that the key to at least a. part of the problem was to be found in the four rooms that had remained vacant even when the hotel had been otherwise full up. This time, she vowed, she would find it if she had to take the room apart with her bare hands.
Anxious to get at it, Calla drove fast all the way back into the city. Normally a cautious driver, she cut a lot of corners on the trip even though she told herself she was being a fool and that a couple of minutes one way or another didn't matter that much.
She was still driving a little too fast as she wheeled the Mustang into the hotel driveway. The car jerked as she braked hard and stopped inches short of the double parked Capri.
Hurrying out of the car, she threw her keys to the doorman and went straight up to the fourth floor. As she got out of the elevator, she met Bruce West. The assistant manager was carrying a big, very heavy looking suitcase.
"Taking up weight lifting?" she asked.
Just then a down elevator stopped and, with a nervous laugh, he hurried into it without answering.
There had to be something wrong there. Bruce West refused to lift or carry anything. He always insisted on one of the staff doing it for him. And yet, here he was lugging a heavy case.
Calla sensed it was another piece of the puzzle to be fitted into place before she could find a total picture.
She examined 433 carefully. The first thing she noticed was that the bed had been sat on. Someone had made an effort to remove the traces, but it had been a clumsy try at best.
Assuming that someone had been Bruce West, she knew only two things. He carried a heavy suitcase and sat on a bed in an unoccupied room. She saw that she had come up with something less than remarkable.
Calla went on with her search. Hurrying into the bathroom, she noticed that the cigarette ash had been picked up. There was a trace of ashes inside the toilet bowl and she bent to study it closely.
It was there, but it didn't add up. The cleaning woman who had picked the ashes off the floor would not have left a dirty bowl.
Assuming that the person who had done the sloppy cleaning was Bruce West, it still left her nowhere. If he came to 433 for a smoke, why the suitcase? He smoked a lot, but he didn't carry that big a supply around with him.
Calla tried to tell herself it was foolish to assume that just because she had seen Bruce leaving the floor he was the one who had used the room. She went on believing he had been in the room because that was what she wanted to believe.
It was then that Calla noticed the white powder on the floor under the mirror. Picking up some of it on her finger, she found it felt rough, like plaster. A careful check of the wall above showed no sign of a break or crack.
She began running her hand over the wall in search of more powder. She found the first trace under the mirror near the corner. It was immediately below the corner screw, one of four which held the big mirror against the wall.
There seemed to be no logical reason for that. Her mind buzzed in a frantic search for an explanation until she expected her brain to pop. It didn't, but an idea did.
Hurrying out of the room, Calla took the elevator down to the basement and went looking for a maintenance man. When she found him, she borrowed a little leather case of screwdrivers of all sizes.
Almost running back to the elevator, she punched the button for the fourth floor and began a trip that seemed to take hours instead of seconds.
Inside 433, she slid the bolt across the door and hurried into the bathroom. Opening the case and spreading it on top of the toilet tank, she selected a screwdriver and tried it in one of the screws. It didn't fit.
The third one she tried worked and the screw turned easily. A few grains of plaster dust trickled out of the hole as she removed the screw with her fingers. They fell in the same spot where the rest lay and she felt a thrill of excitement.
Seconds later, she had removed the top screw from the mirror.
It was then that Calla realized she could be in trouble. The mirror was big and she knew it would be heavy. What, she wondered would happen when the last screw was removed? Would it come crashing down on her head?
Whether or not it did, Calla swore, she was determined to see what was behind it. Touching it tentatively where she had removed the screws, she was surprised to see it swing easily toward her.
But that surprise was nothing compared to the next one she got. As the hinged mirror swung out from the wall, she looked through a picture window into room 431.
On the bed, a naked man and woman lay sprawled in sleep. Instinctively, Calla stepped back. A second later she realized there was no danger of her being seen. The window through which she looked, was a mirror on the other side.
Calla had heard of two-way mirrors being used before, but this was the first time she had ever seen one. It was frightening to be able to spy on people that way when they had every reason to believe they were alone in the privacy of their room.
Looking more closely into the room, Calla saw the woman's white nylon panties dangling off the end of the much rumpled bed. Her bra lay on the floor beside the bed partially covered by a towel that had been dropped.
It wasn't difficult to guess what they had been doing earlier and why they were sleeping so soundly.
Instinct assured her that during their lovemaking, Bruce West had been an audience of one through the picture window. Could the man, she wondered, be so perverted that he would go through so much trouble and run such a risk just for the thrill of watching a man and woman making love? It seemed more than just sick, it struck her as being a form of insanity.
And then she had another thought that sent a new series of chills through her body. Without the faintest shadow of doubt, Calla knew that the sutcase she had seen the assistant manager carrying was heavy with camera equipment.
Projecting the thought, she came up with a lot of very frightening possibilities. Perhaps the man was not sick at all. Pictures of the type he could take this way offered a variety of possibilities and none of them were nice.
Taking a last look at the naked couple on the bed, she saw that the woman was young and had a lush figure. It was easy to picture the lovely young form writhing in passion with the naked man who slept beside her now.
He was considerably older. The jacket of a proper looking business suit hung over the back of a chair and Calla wondered at the possibility of the boss taking his secretary out for a good time.
Closing the mirror window quietly, Calla picked up the screws and replaced them. When she was finished, she used Kleenex to wipe up every trace of plaster dust. If Bruce West had done the same thing, she thought, she never would have discovered the window.
Picking up the case of screwdrivers, Calla turned off the light and walked out of the room. She was relieved to find the hall deserted as she hurried toward the elevator and went down.
At the desk she was told that Bruce had left for home about ten minutes earlier. Checking the keyboard, Calla saw that the three other bugged rooms of which she was aware were occupied and the adjoining rooms were, of course, empty.
Checking them was a matter of routine and she decided to do it then while the assistant manager was away from the hotel and not likely to surprise her in the act.
Without quite understanding why, Calla knew it was important that he not discover she was onto what he was doing. She was content that before long, she would discover the right way to handle the situation.
She fought down an urge to rush into action and fire the assistant manager immediately. It would be a rash gesture. Since he had been at the game for a long time, another day or two wouldn't make that much difference, she told herself.
Knowing just what she was looking for, the confirmation tour didn't take long. In the first room, she looked into 517 and found it empty. There were enough personal effects scattered around to tell her the room had been occupied and would be again.
In the second room, 624, she saw a woman sitting up in bed naked reading a paper. There was no sign of anyone else in the room although Calla saw a pipe lying in an ashtray on the dresser. She didn't wait to see who the nude woman was waiting for.
Room 703 was last on the list. Automatically, Calla opened the mirror and looked into the room. Her actions ceased being automatic instantly.
There were two women on the bed. One was stark naked and stunningly beautiful with black hair swirling around a perfectly formed face with a flawless complexion.
She was young, not much more than twenty, Calla guessed, and her lovely face was streaked with tears despite the fact that there was a look of ecstasy on her face. It puzzled Calla for just a few seconds until she took a closer look at the other woman who was just getting up from the bed.
Calla estimated she was in her late thirties. Short cropped, black hair framed a strong face that was almost handsome rather than beautiful. Everything about her screamed butch.
She was tall, Calla saw, at least five-nine and strongly built. Her fully developed body was partially encased in bra and panties which appeared to be gleaming black satin. A closer look convinced Calla that they were specially designed latex garments which caressed her breasts and buttocks like shimmering black skin. As the woman turned and stood by the bed, Calla trembled at the sight of what she held in her right hand.
It was a short handled whip with just one very slim rubber or leather thong not more than five or six inches long.
The woman said something with a stern expression on her face and the younger one turned over on the bed. She raised her body on her hands and knees and the woman moved closer to examine her buttocks.
There was a whole, series of bright red lines over the smooth surface of the plump, firm looking cheeks. Against the creaming white skin, the red looked even more vivid.
The young woman had taken quite a whipping and the look of passion on her face told that she had loved every stinging swish of the nasty looking little whip.
Calla wondered whether the inspection of the lovely young fanny would result in more beating.
The older woman was a picture of frightening strength as she bent over to examine the red streaked buttocks. Placing the whip down on the bed, she stared at the pattern of red streaks for a little while, then began rubbing the white satin hills with both hands.
After a little while, the kneeling girl twisted her head around and her eyes were shining as she seemed to say something to her tormentor whose domination she obviously loved.
With a smile that looked anything but warm, the older woman straightened up and held up four fingers. The girl on the bed turned on a pleading look and more tears began to well into her eyes and run down her face. Still, there was that look of ecstasy on her face and Calla guessed that the tears and pleas were a part of the game and that both knew it.
Picking up the whip again, the woman stood close to the bed and breathed deeply. As she did, the latex bra expanded and rose. Calla felt her heart beating with a pounding excitement.
As a sorority member, she had participated in a number of spanking games involving the bare palm or light paddle, but she had never seen anything like this.
The woman with the whip braced her feet comfortably apart as she took up her position close to the arched buttocks of the girl who had lowered her arms and buried her face in the pillow.
The panties clung to a lean but still nicely curved behind. Her tummy was almost boyishly flat. Straining black suspenders held shimmering black nylons taut over firm thighs. A pair of high heeled black patent pumps completed the uniform.
Placing her left hand on the girl's back just above her behind, the woman lowered the whip until the thong fell into the valley between the arched cheeks. She drew it up with deliberate slowness until it had completed the trip through the valley. And then, before Calla realized it was happening, the woman flicked her wrist and the thong of the little whip curled around the lower slope of the right orb.
At once, the young woman's behind began to gyrate with a frantic rhythm. It wasn't a motion of pain or suffering, Calla sensed, it was pure animal lust. She was savoring an intense pleasure from the line of fire across the cheek and arousing the woman with the whip by her motions so the next cut would be even harder.
The woman waited for a long time, resting the thong on the full left cheek, then drew her hand back. The little whip hissed and caressed the cheek. There was the same reaction from the ecstatic victim.
It required almost five minutes to deliver the next two strokes as the woman with the whip savored every thrilling moment of the beating.
When the fourth stroke had been delivered, she dropped the whip and hurriedly stripped her bra and panties off. A moment later, she was turning the weeping woman over and her mouth pressed greedily onto the tear-wet lips of the younger woman.
They writhed in their embrace for a long time, their bodies straining and obviously demanding release of pent up desire. The older woman still wore her garter belt and the sleek nylons, the young one was stark naked.
The embrace ended and the older woman lay on her back with her knees drawn up and her thighs parted wide. Calla could see right into the dark warmth of her aroused body.
Knowing what was expected of her, the young woman moved between the waiting thighs and, with her red-streaked behind swaying, pressed her face between the tense thighs.
Her black hair made an exciting contrast with the white skin of the woman's tummy and thighs. It matched perfectly the black of the clinging garter belt.
The tableau went on until the older woman's mouth opened wide, her eyes rolled and her body jerked. The young woman kept her mouth there for a few more seconds until the woman pushed her away.
Hurriedly then, the young woman dropped onto her back on the bed to wait for release. Calla assumed it would be provided in the same way and wondered why they hadn't chosen to do it to each other at the same time.
To her surprise, she saw the woman get off the bed and hurriedly replace her bra and panties. When they were in place, she picked up the whip again.
Surely not, Calla almost breathed the words aloud. That poor young thing will go crazy if she doesn't get satisfaction now.
And then Calla gasped as she saw how that satisfaction was going to be provided. The older woman knelt between parted thighs. The thong of the whip was curled up in her hand, she was holding it so that the smooth black leather of the handle became an artifical symbol of maleness.
She pushed slowly and Calla saw the young woman's mouth open wide. She guessed there was a cry of pleasure as she felt the firm leather. The older woman kept pushing until her hand was against solid warmth.
Pausing for a moment, she began a steady stroking, the action of her wrist as strong now as it had been a little while ago when she used the whip in a different manner.
Calla saw that with her eyes closed, the young woman could pretend that the stiff leather was anyone or anything. While the older woman continued to work, her body and mind were free to indulge in any fantasy she chose.
Regardless of what the young woman was thinking while her body and thighs jerked under the delicious assault, Calla felt herself being devoured by passion and a wild desire to share their game.
At the moment, she wanted so desperately to be a part of it that she would have willingly submitted to the whip if it were a part of the price.
And then, the conclusion approached for the young woman on the bed. When she began to jerk and writhe violently, the older woman fell onto her and held her down as the handle of the whip jerked in and out quickly, deeply until, with one gasp, the girl fell flat and lay panting as it happened.
For a few moments, the two women were almost motionless on the bed. Then both got up. Calla was surprised to see the younger one begin to dress while the dominant one again removed her bra and panties.
No power on earth could have pulled Calla away from the window at that moment. She just had to see what was going to happen. It required only a short wait.
While the young woman was still dressing, the older one knelt up on the bed with her knees wide apart. Except for the garter belt and nylons, she was nude again.
The whip lay on the bed in front of her while she used her hands to stroke her thighs, buttocks and breasts with the touch of a passionate lover.
As she worked herself to a fever pitch, the younger one finished dressing, picked up her purse and gloves and walked from the room seemingly without a word of farewell.
The moment the door closed, the woman on the bed picked up the whip and fondled it lovingly. Calla could see moisture glistening on the leather handle.
With an expression that seemed to be both a smile of delight and a grimace of pain, the woman reached between her thighs with the fingers of her left hand. At the same time, her right hand brought the handle of the whip up.
Calla felt perspiration running down her body. It was just too much, she couldn't stand it any longer. With her pass key, she could rush into the adjoining room, tear her clothes off and submit to anything the woman wanted to do to her. Yet, she knew she mustn't do that. There had to be something she could do though.
Through the window, the woman was beginning to use the whip handle as she had used it oh the other woman. Calla realized what she had to do.
Quickly, she reached up under her dress and jerked her panties down. She stepped out of them and stood with her feet wide apart.
Her finger found the center of the warmth and the need and it became the whip handle as she matched her rhythm to that of the woman in the other room.
So ready was she, that it happened for her in what seemed like only seconds. When it did, her thighs crushed her hand, her knees sagged and rubbed weakly. She had to put her left hand on the wall for support.
After a little while, she breathed deeply, picked up her panties and put them on, closed the mirror and left the room.