Chapter 4
Carla made a final adjustment in the arrangement of her buffet table, then stepped back to look at it. Lovely. The white table cloth was piled high with fancy delicacies-ham, sliced turkey, shrimp, cheeses, breads, sauces and salads. It made a very pretty and tempting picture, she thought. She was excited about playing hostess to a real party in her new apartment for the first time.
Going to the mirror, she checked her make-up again. It was flawless, as was the style of her blonde tresses and the clinging fit of her new cocktail dress.
"Are you dressed yet, Burt?" she called in the direction of the bedroom. His reply was indistinct and she couldn't tell if it was negative or affirmative. She certainly hoped he'd behave himself today and not get all boozed up and embarrass her. There were good reasons, business and personal, for her wanting it to be a perfect afternoon. It was important to make the best possible impression on Karen Tryon, for one thing, so she'd sign up for the modeling course. And then, Joe would be here. Golly, it had been a long time. She'd been having curiously disturbing thoughts about Joe since knowing he would be here today.
The doorbell rang. Glancing at her watch as she crossed to answer it she mused that whoever it was was right on time, which was to say, early.
She opened the door. "Mom!" she squealed delightedly, throwing her arms around the tall, platinum-haired woman. "Momsie! What on earth? What a happy surprise, darling!"
Mother and daughter entered the apartment, arm in arm, beaming at each other. "Well, honey," said Mom," I woke up this morning and told Dr. Pol-kin I just had such a terrible itch to see my baby girl, and you know what he did? He calmly handed me three hundred dollars and said, 'Catch the next plane' ... So I did!"
"How is the doctor?" asked Carla. Dr. Polkin was Mom's fourth husband. Carla had met him only once.
"His liver bothers him, dear. He's such a nice old gent. I'm very happy with him," said the elegantly attired mother. Carla appraised the older lady's appearance. Still the same swinging, sassy mom, it looked like. She hoped she would look that good herself at fifty. Mom's expensively died hair showed not the slightest trace of grey, and her attractive, pampered facial features looked years younger than she really was. Carla noticed also that she continued to keep her figure. The tummy was flat and firm. Maybe she had to wear a girdle these days, but the hips still hadn't gone too hippy. And her bulging breasts could, the daughter was sure, still grab a man's eye. She'd often wondered how, with such a big busted mother, she herself had gotten so shortchanged by nature on that score.
"Say, looks like you're having a party," said Mom, observing the table full of viands and the bar laden for action. "I hope I'm not barging in."
"Barging in?" Carla planted another affectionate, daughterly peck on her mother's cheek. "As of right now, you're the guest of honor, Momsie."
Mom lowered her voice, looking furtively a-round. "Where's your new husband, dear? I've been so concerned since you wrote and told me you're having problems with him. It's one of the reasons I wanted to come."
At that moment, Burt entered from the bedroom, spiffily decked out in his best black suit and smiling cordially, if quizzically, at the unexpected guest.
"Oh, Burt, sweet," Carla hailed him in her vivacious party voice. "I want you to meet my dear momsie who's come all the way from Chicago to be at our party."
The party was in full swing. Joe idly estimated there were about 40 people in the room as he leaned comfortably against the wall, between conversations. The crowd of fashionably attired men and women buzzed at each other, their faces taking on the usual cocktail party glow. He caught Annie's eye across the room. She returned his wink with a sweet smile. Beside her, chatting earnestly, was a pretty young girl he'd never seen before. The young girl looked to be no more than 18 or so, four or five years younger than Annie. Very pretty, whoever she is, he mused.
He took a sip from his glass. Whew, Burt was pouring them strong today. He decided to lean into the kitchen, since he was standing right next to it, to dilute his drink with a dash of tap water.
As he stood at the sink, measuring an inch of water into his glass, a seductive voice behind him intoned: "Hi ya, sexy."
Recognizing the voice, a wry smile was already splitting his features before he turned to face her. "Hi, Rita baby. What's up?" he replied amusedly. With her, he could guess what was up. Not that she wasn't a ripely enticing woman, with those canti-levered breasts of hers and that healthy, vigorous body. But the way she came on, he couldn't help it, she amused more than aroused him.
"What's up, you ask?" She batted her long, black lashes at him and parted her sensuous lips. "I'm up, big boy. That's what's up."
"Funny thing, Rita. I kind of thought that's what you'd say," he grinned at her.
"Joe, I'm so horny my pants are sopping wet. You want to see?" She sucked in her breath and showed her ivory teeth.
"Come off it, Rita. If I ever did reach out my hairy paws to grab you, you'd jump and run, wouldn't you?" He wouldn't ever do it of course, he told himself. Still he couldn't help speculating whether a romp with her would be as ferocious as her typical conversation made out.
"There's one way to find out, Stud. Come over here and touch me," she challenged him. "Or are you afraid I'm too much woman for you?"
"Well now, I wouldn't say that," he replied, half interested in accepting her dare and correcting her mocking aspersion against his virility. " ... You come here."
She did so, instantly. Whoops. Maybe he was getting himself into a predicament here. Close to him, she breathed slyly: "Put your hand up my dress. Joe. Go on, grab me there."
Torn by a mingling of embarrassment and arousal, he stammered: "Rita, be careful. Somebody might come in."
"So what?" she answered carelessly. "You think I'd give a flying...? Come on, Joe baby, I'm so hot I'm about to cream. Rub my breast at least. Rub it and bite it ... unless you're chicken?"
With that she reached behind and unsnapped her bra under her dress. He watched her ripe mounds surge forward against the low bodice, as she freed them from the bra's restictions. He gulped and then gulped again as Rita pulled down the elastic fabric of the dress and a tawny, brown-tipped cone plopped into view. Over her shoulder, just a few feet away through the open door, he was able to glimpse part of the room full of people. Annie among them, he realized with a sinking, sneaking feeling. And yet he was excitedly moved by the swelling nakedness of the female part before him. Rita gave a little shake and the breast wobbled spicily, it's nipple tightening and throbbing before his eyes, begging to be fondled and kissed.
"What's the matter, Joe? ... Come on, touch it," she seductively dared him again. He made no resistence as she took his hand and drew it to cup her nude ripeness. At the first contact, he felt his masculinity come hotly alive.
"Pinch it, Joe. Play with the nipple," she urged in a throaty voice, breathing deeply. He complied.
Even in the grip of his frankly mounting lust, he was surprised at himself. What in holy hell was he doing? Standing here in full view of 15 or 20 people, some of whom were probably glancing into the kitchen this second. From their vantage point it might look like he and Rita were merely standing and talking, but what if somebody came in? What if Annie walked through that door right now? Still, the sense of imminent danger possibly heightening his hot pleasure, he continued to manipulate Rita's throbbing brown point.
"Rita, what the hell are we doing?" he choked. "Come on, let's stop this and cool off."
"I don't want to stop, big boy," she wispered hoarsely. She grabbed him boldly. "Let's see how you're ... Oh, my god, Joe, you are a man, aren't you?"
Her bold, clutching hand snapped his nerve ends fiercely taut. She began to fumble at his belt and zipper while he wrestled feebly, with one hand, against her even more ardent intentions.
"Rita, for Christ's sake, cut it out," he muttered, torn by a dizzying conflict of desires.
"Are you kidding, horse? This I've gotta see, I've gotta have." She looked at him wantonly as their hand wrestling continued, and slid her tongue wetly over both lips. "I want to kiss you there, Joe. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe ... sure ... but...." He broke off, feverishly flustered.
"Joe, I've got an idea," she hissed eagerly, her black eyes flashing animal lust. "Let's strip stark naked and go in there and roll around and make love right on the floor in front of them."
"Are you completely nuts, Rita?" he growled, although the outrageous perversity turned him on.
"No. I'm just so sexed up I'm almost nuts. I want sex, Joe. Hot, wet, juicy sex. I could ear sex right now."
At that moment, Joe's heart plunged to his belly like a lump of lead. He glanced at the door. Carla stood there, quietly watching. Her face was a lovely mask over whatever emotions she felt. Did he see just a trace of a knowing, superior smile at the corners of her lips? Their eyes met for a long moment before she turned and left the kitchen.
Rita had acknowledged Carta's presence only with a brief, heedless glance and a casual grin. She turned now to freely resume their titilation where it had left off. Shaken, Joe pushed her clutching hands away and walked from the room.
Carla left a group to answer the door. The party was going very well. Mom seemed to be having a ball, but of course that wasn't unsual. She'd have a ball anywhere, with any kind of people. And even Burt was behaving so far. She hadn't seen him stagger a single time yet.
Opening the door, she gushed: "Why, Karen, darling, come in. I was afraid you weren't coming."
Karen Tryon entered, smiling shyly. "I'm sorry to be so late, Mrs. Goslin. Mom made me baby sit with my little brother."
Carla appraised the young girl, reconfirming her earlier impressions. Her image of fresh, youthful innocence could be made into a highly saleable commodity. If only her mom would come through with the $400 check for the modeling course, so they could begin. She looked at Karen's blue party dress. Pretty enough, but a little unsophisticated. Well, proper dressing would be part of the training. The youngster certainly had the raw material. Soft brown hair framed a sweet face, glowing with the pink freshness of youth. Blue eyes, a tenderly shaped mouth. The figure had it too. Maybe they'd need to whack just a smidgin off the fannie, but otherwise the kid was all there. Graceful legs, curvy hips, and a pair of ripe, saucy young breasts.
"Well, come in, darling. I'll introduce you a-round. Care for a drink?"
"Just a coke, thank you," Karen replied. Her pretty face was happy but flushed, as though she were a little unsure of herself in this predominantly older, more sophisticated company.
"Oh, Burt ... Burt," Carla called, catching her husband's attention. "We'd like a coke over here." Turning back to the girl, she said: "That's my husband. I want you to meet him. You never know, he might be able to help us with your career."
Karen merely smiled and let her eyes dance around the room, as if in awe of all the stylish people. She'll need a little polishing up, Carla judged.
"Umm ... speaking of your career, Karen darling," Carla went on smoothly, "did you talk some more to your mother about the fee for the course?"
"Yes. She's not completely sold on the idea, but she finally left it up to me and said, if I want it, she'd have the money."
They were interrupted by Burt's arrival with the Coca Cola. Carla made the introductions as Burt gallantly offered his hand, and Karen demurely accepted.
"Mrs. Goslin...." Karen started.
Carla interrupted her. "It's Miss Smith, Karen. You see, although I'm Mrs. Goslin now in private life, I still use my maiden name professionally."
She glanced at Burt and saw the pique in his eyes. Men, she thought huffily. They were so silly with their possessive ideas. Burt bowed his brusque excuses, mumbling something indistinct, and moved off.
"What I was going to say about the modeling course, Mrs....Miss Smith, is that I think I'd like to go ahead and sign up for it."
"How delightful, darling," Carla beamed, locking her hands charming at her chin. She could sure use the four bills, what with the skimpy size of the allowance cheapskate Burt gave her. "Now, I've got a surprise for you. Don't hold me to it, but I think we can arrange your fist paying job right here, this afternoon."
"That would be wonderful." Karen's pretty, open face gave away her girlish excitement at the prospect of such a quick launching of her career. "But do you think I'm ready for it, Miss Smith?"
"Yes," Carla assured her. "For what I have in mind, all you need is good looks, and that you certainly have. It's not like high fashion where you do need training." She searched the crowded room. "I'm trying to spot my publisher friend right now ... Have you ever seen the Guzzler's Gazette?"
"No, but I think I've heard of it," said Karen. "Miss Smith, aren't the pictures in that paper...? I mean, don't the girls have to pose...?"
"Oh, there he is," Carla broke in. "Joe, Joe, come on over."
Joe approached with a decidedly sheepish demeanor, she thought mischeviously. As well he might. Imagine carrying on like that right in the kitchen. A little pang in her loins made her admit to herself that she wished it had been her in the kitchen with him instead of Rita Leopold. He was quite a man, this Joe.
She introduced Joe and the young modeling hopeful.
"Joe, I was thinking. You know, Karen is going to be one of my modeling students now, and I was wondering if you could use her as a Guzzler's Gal sometime soon?"
"Sure, she's pretty, has a nice figure," Joe said. "I'd be glad to have her, but does she know all the details?"
"That's what I was going to ask, Miss Smith." Karen's eyes dropped and her prink cheeks reddened. "Aren't the Guzzler's Gals always shown ... shown...?"
"Nude?" Carla finished for her as she and Joe shared a smile at the girl's shy discomfort. "Yes, but they're presented in a very dignified way. Mr. Barnes has an excellent photographer. Besides, darling, aren't you maybe thinking a little behind the times if it seems immoral to you? Almost all the models do it these days."
"Yes, but...." Karen was pitiably embarrassed.
"Well, honey, I'm certainly not trying to force you to do it," said Carla, somewhat annoyed at the girl's lack of cooperation. "But Mr. Barnes pays a $100 fee, and it's no more than two hours' work."
Karen brightened, seemingly impressed. "Golly, a hundred dollars? I'd get that much for just two hours of posing?"
"You'll have $85 all for yourself, after my fee," Carla tempted her.
"Well, I guess, maybe...." She was coming a-round now, Carla knew.
"Karen," Joe broke in, "I want to assure you it's strictly a business proposition. You obviously have the looks and figure and I'd like to have you as a Guzzler's Gal, but if you have any doubts or fears...."
Karen's clouded face opened all at once and she smiled, obviously having reached her decision. "All right, I'll do it," she said with resolve. "After all, if you and Miss Smith say it's all right, and if I'm going to be one of her models, I guess I've got to take her guidance."
Joe was feeling slightly ill-at-ease as Karen looked at him. He and Carla had ushered her around the party, introducing her to various people who might conceivably be of help to a budding model. Now Carla had drifted off somewhere and the pretty young girl seemed to be sticking to him. As they had led her through the series of introductions and brief chats, her poise had seemed to grow amazingly in a few short minutes time. It was as if the decision she'd made about posing for his paper had symbolized a larger decision to her. Almost as if she felt herself entering a new way of life, and was determined to be accepted by it. Possibly his quick confirmation of her as a Guzzler's Gal had given her the shot of confidence she needed to believe she could be accepted.
But, was it his imagination, or was she singling him out in some way? Good Lord, he thought, if I get propositioned by two women in one day, I'd better change my brand of shaving lotion. Of course, a kid like Karen wasn't about to be making any Rita-type rape skirmishes, but she might be getting ideas, kidding herself in the romantic way a young girl can with an older man. He'd better let her see he was here with Annie. She probably didn't even realize it yet.
"Mr. Barnes ... Joe," she said now, placing her fingers lightly but familiarly on his arm. Oh-oh. He'd guessed right. This was too obvious. "I know I can trust you, Joe. Are you sure there's nothing ... that I won't be embarrassed in any way, posing nude for your paper?" Her words expressed some remaining doubts, but her eyes betrayed a fascination with the idea of exposing her virginal nudity. It was on her mind all right.
He smiled reassuringly. "Absolutely no embarrassment, Karen. We give the Guzzler's Gals pseudonyms to protect their identities, and, facing facts, our circulation isn't large enough that any of your friends are likely to see it. If they do, and if any of them think it's dirty, that's their hang-up, not yours."
"Where do we do it?" she asked.
"Take the pictures, you mean? Well, let's make a date right now. We'll meet on Wednesday at 6:00 at Carl Jenson's studio, Okay? Here's his card." He handed her a business card. "Carl and I will be the only ones there, unless you want to bring a chaperone. Feel free to do so, if it'll put you more at ease."
"Okay. Wednesday night at six will be fine, Joe."
He'd better pull out, he knew, before the conversation had a chance to become more personal. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Karen, I've been neglecting my sweetheart. That's her over there." He indicated Annie across the room, and noted that Karen's face clouded just a bit. "So ... Have a nice time, now." He -edged away.
"All right, Joe ... Mr. Barnes. See you Wednesday."
Carla smiled sweetly at Annie, at the same time watching Burt in her peripheral vision over the shapely brunette's shoulder. The two women were seated on a sofa, while Burt stood several feet away, engaged in a tottering, gesticulating conversation with a man she didn't know. Probably one of his newspaper friends. Damn him, he was getting drunk again. She could tell by the way he kept rocking back on his heels as he talked. Angrily dismissing thoughts of her husband, she concentrated her attention on Annie.
"So you're Joe's new girl, eh? You're very pretty. Joe's a lucky man." Behind her charming smile she was thinking that Annie was really the lucky one. After all, she, Carla, was in a position to know just what kind of good loving the cute Texan was getting unless Joe had gone downhill. He sure didn't look it, though, she thought with envy. She hadn't realized the jolt it would give her to see him again. Here she was, saddled with a drunken old man, while this girl next to her was being so thrillingly taken care of, love-wise. It didn't seem fair. She was suddenly very jealous of Annie.
"Yes, Miss Smith ... Carla. Joe and I have been going together for, oh, a couple of months now I guess."
Carla veiled her eyes, sizing Annie up. Cute enough, nice figure, especially those big, juicy knockers, damn her; sweet face, but ... did she have the style and flare it takes to really tie a man up in knots? How would she measure up in a vamping contest, Carla wondered, and was intrigued with the idea. Could she, if she took a notion, pry Joe away from Annie and run with him? Could she do it and still stay married? Did she care whether or not she stayed married to Burt Goslin? Now there was a question to mull over seriously, she realized, her eyes flitting briefly and disgustedly in her husband's direction. God, it would be exciting if she could be in Joe's arms again!
"I'll bet you're a big help to him in his business", she said to Annie. "How is the paper doing these days, by the way?"
"Oh, just fine", Annie said proudly. "Joe's a smart feller. Circulation keeps going up a little bit every week now."
Damn. Not that she wasn't glad for Joe, but she couldn't help thinking how she'd married a man for the prestige of his name and the idea he could help her professionally, and absolutely nothing had happened so far. Where as old pants-seat Joe Barnes was turning out to be the guy with the cash jobs to give, and might be on his way to being a lot bigger name than Burt Goslin, despite Burt's byline in a big daily newspaper. He was certainly a hell of a lot better lover in the bargain. Damn.
"Of course, I guess you know better than I do, what a smart feller Joe is", Annie was saying. "He tells me you were high school classmates."
"Well, how're you doing, Mom?" Burt asked heartily. They were seated together on a chaise lounge. "Enjoying the party?" He slapped her playfully on the thigh and gave her a little squeeze.
"Oh, you feisty thing", she giggled. "Stop that."
She pushed his hand away, but was inwardly pleased by his flirtatious attention, even if he was only trying to butter up his new mother-in-law. She was getting a little tight, she knew. Oh well, what the hell, so was Burt from the look of him. Now that she'd met him, she couldn't see why Carla had written that she wasn't happy with him. He seemed perfectly charming to her. As a matter-of-fact, she thought he was kind of cute.
Burt's gaze wandered and his expression grew thoughtful as she watched him.
"What's on your mind, Burt darling?", she asked. "You look like you're deep in thought."
"Oh", said Burt, contemplating the crowd of happy revelers in his living room, "I was just wondering what the poor people are doing this afternoon."