Chapter 8

HOW TO SUCCEED!

The last show at BRUNO'S PLACE was over about two A.M. But it was Jeff's job to stick around and entertain the customers until about a quarter-of-three.

When finally he closed the keyboard cover and put out the blue baby-spot that shined down on the piano, he went into the kitchen to look for Freda. He wanted to tell her to wait so he could go home with her. But by the time he got there, she and most of the other help had gone home, leaving only a ghastly yellow light burning over one of the stoves. So, Jeff decided he'd better have his talk with the Brunos.

From the kitchen, Jeff went directly to the door of Oleg Bruno's office to talk salary. He tapped on it lightly. There was no answer. So he tried the knob; locked. He guessed Ninette had forgotten their appointment; that she and her husband had gone home. He started to turn away, when he heard the door open.

Ninette stood there framed in the doorway; the office behind her in darkness. She was wearing the same red satin gown she'd worn for the first show; her flesh gleamed white and hot in the dim light.

"Come in," she invited and hurried him across the threshold, then closed and locked the door. "Any of those drunks out there find I'm still here, they'll want to throw a private party or something. I'll never be rid of them."

She touched one of the switches on the wall near the door and the office filled with soft, indirect lighting. Jeff's eyes swept the place in a glance. It was richly furnished with deep-knap carpet on the floor, a massive, hand-carved desk and matching furniture and against the far wall was a huge couch of Moroccan leather. What surprised him was that they were alone.

"Where's Mr. Bruno?" he inquired.

She looked a little sad. "He left before the last show. I'm afraid Mr. Bruno isn't a very well man these days. He lets me conduct most of the business.

She asked Jeff to sit down and he chose one of the big leather chairs facing the desk. She waited until he was seated then turned and walked to the desk. He watched the way her derriere moved suggestively under the red satin of her gown. If she had anything on underneath it must have been a cobweb.

She didn't go around behind the desk, but hiked one cheek of her lovely fanny up onto one corner of it, facing him. He hadn't realized that the red gown she was wearing had a slit up one side well above her knees, affording him a view of her shapely, pink thighs. If it was meant to arouse him, it achieved its purpose.

"I haven't spoken to my husband yet about what Danny Casino said. I mean about the eight years you spent in prison for peddling dope," she said, looking at him hard. "Is it true?"

"The eight years are true," he said.

"And the part about the dope?"

"They found me guilty."

"Were you."

He met her gaze. "If you believe me, you'll be the only one who has in eight years."

"You haven't answered my question. Were you guilty?"

He kept staring at her, unblinkingly. "I wasn't guilty," he said simply.

She made no comment, she simply slid her fanny off the edge of the desk and walked toward the couch. He watched the way her rear end wiggled under the red satin gown. Every move she made seemed to radiate sex.

When she reached the couch, she sat down and crossed her legs. The skirt fell away to again show him her fabulously shaped legs and thighs.

"How much do you think you're worth-playing piano seven nights a week?" she asked him a-cross the length of the office, as she fished through her handbag and found a cigarette.

"Scale to start," he said.

"Fair enough," she told him and searched her bag for a match. Apparently she had none, or didn't want to find one. Her eyes caught his and went to the automatic lighter on the desk. "Mind?"

He arose, got the lighter from the desk and brought it to her. As he snapped on the flame and she leaned forward to put the end of her cigarette into it, the top of her dress fell away from her body to expose her gorgeous breasts almost to the nipples. He felt himself come suddenly to life.

She looked at his growing bigness as she drew deeply on her cigarette, let the smoke wash around inside her lungs and then released it in a gray veil through a thin smile. "I hope we have a pleasant relationship," she said with a clearly defined double-meaning.

"I'm sure we will," he replied as he watched her lean back on the big leather couch.

She took another deep drag on her cigarette, then stretched her left arm backwards over her head to crush out the cigarette in a tray that stood on the end-table behind her. The movement pulled her left breast up out of the cup of her bra that was built into her gown, exposing the bright cherry-red nipple. She made no attempt to do a thing about it, as she looked up and saw him staring at the succulent crimson-tipped mound. "Well?"

It was all the encouragement he needed. He dropped to the couch beside her and his mouth went for the crimson nipple. But she quickly covered the nipple with her hand and brought the material of her dress up over it, blocking his way.

"First kiss me," she whispered as she took his face in her two hands and let him watch her moisten her flame-red lips with the tip of her tongue before she brought his mouth to them. Her scalding tongue, slithered between his lips and worked serpent-like in a passionate orgy inside his mouth.

When she pulled away, her breasts moved spasmodically against his chest. Her eyes filled with passion. He kissed her wet mouth again and filled it with his tongue. Then suddenly he remembered "You've got a husband."

"A husband maybe. But not a man," she whispered as she opened the front of his ruffled shirt to run a hand over his chest, fingering his nipples. "He pays the rent, buys the food and lets me have a career here at the club. But he's not a man." Her hand was moving downward outside his clothing now, to find and squeeze him gently through the material of his trousers. "Not like you. He's been impotent for all the twelve years we've been married."

She took his face in her two hands again and smeared her mouth against his; her tongue indulging in more play inside his mouth. Then she drew away from him again and lay back against the pillows, her arms half-crooked above her head, offering him unrestricted access to her beautiful body.

He smoothed the satin material over her breasts and hips and thighs; then he reached behind her, found the talon of the hidden zipper and drew it down as far as it would go. Slowly he peeled down her gown to reveal her voluptuous milky white breasts crowned with crimson buttons in the center of shiny, wide-spread areoles of a lighter hue. He sampled each of the bright red nubs to hardness then ran his tongue through the deep sweet-scented canyon that separated the cherry-tipped, white mountains.

When finally he'd had his fill of their loveliness, he drew her gown downward over her hips and legs and thoughtfully tossed it to one side where it wouldn't get too wrinkled.

He looked down at her with frank admiration as she lay before him clad only in the whisper of a pair of black lace panties, and black satin heels.

The panties were of short duration. Then his lips went to her mouth. It was as good a place as any for him to start kissing her ... since that was what she obviously wanted him to do. He kissed her pas-sionately, his tongue probing, his lips sucking heavily.

Apparently he was satisfying her keen, awakened desires. She moaned and thrashed her legs. He lowered his head and his lips took one of her nipples. He kissed it then his teeth closed firmly over the point. He pulled upward and by her reaction could feel the delicious thrill that shot through her.

He inserted a hand between her wet, squirming thighs. His finger probed and found the spot. After so long a time, he'd been uncertain and bumbling with Freda. But those sessions with her, had reoriented him and there was no awkwardness now.

She moaned the sheer delight he was causing her as she began to move against his fingers ... until she reached the point where she couldn't take any more of his manipulations.

"You," she panted. "Now you-take off your clothes."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

He glanced at the door behind him. "Solid oak and reinforced with steel," she told him. "A fire axe couldn't break it down."

He began to take off his clothes. He took too long. She sat up and with her big breasts jiggling enticingly, she helped him loosen his trousers; un-snap his shorts. Gingerly she lifted the material of his shorts and uncovered him. As he sprang into view, she stared down at him, wide-eyed, wholly enraptured. She put her cupped right hand between his thighs and lifted all of him as if weighing his potency.

Then she began at the bottom of his shaft and hand-over-hand like a kid choosing sides with a bat, she measured his bigness. She was duly impressed. As she held him lightly in her fingers, she leaned over him so that her dangling breasts barely brushed the tip of him, moistening her rigid nipples.

She didn't let go of him until he had off all his clothes and was as naked as she. Then she told him to sit back on the couch and make himself comfortable. The leather was cold against his bare ass. But the discomfort was forgotten the moment she straddled his thighs; one knee planted at each side of him on the couch. She crushed one of her big juicy breasts into his mouth and lowered herself to him, slowly. She gasped as if she couldn't catch her breath for the moment as she fitted him between her warm, moist, pliable hips and slid downward along the entire length of his bigness.

Then strictly in character, she assumed charge. She became the boss; in complete command of everything that happened. She set the rhythm. She measured each stroke-long or short-fast or slow-depending onthe sensation she wanted it to cause her. Only when she reached the topmost pinnacle of her passion did she lose all control of her emotions and begin to whimper as she collapsed helplessly against him to throb out her ardor. It was these violent palpitations that brought him on; each burst making her wail and writhe against him anew.

She knelt there across his lap for a long time; their bellies touching and her breasts flattened a-gainst his chest. Presently he felt her breath brush his ear.

"Again, darling?"

The mere thought of it, plus a few well-calcu-lated movements on her part and he began to rise slowly. She spread her thighs and encouraged him to find the way on his own. Then the whole business followed the same course it had previously taken to leave them both in serene exhaustion....