Chapter 5

When Mavis opened her eyes, Phil Benton had gone and daylight speared through chinks in the curtains. Outside the street was busy with traffic. Sandra still slept. Phil had left a note: "Last night was wonderful, kid. If you thought so too, be here when I get back."

Looking down at Sandra, Mavis felt almost inclined to accept Phil's offer and stay on. But common sense overcame her impulse. She had to be practical. The past was behind. She had to make some sort of a future for herself, and she had a certain obligation towards Sandra. There was no future in becoming a cab driver's mistress, however pleasurable. She wanted a good time, the bright lights and above all money. Success and fame weren't important. Money was the key to everything she craved.

Back home she had never been allowed much money. She had stolen more from her aunt than the woman had given freely. Thinking of her aunt, Mavis frowned. It seemed unreal, incredible that the old lady was actually dead and buried. Everything had happened so quickly. There had been no time to plan anything carefully. Where would it all end? Of one thing Mavis was quite certain-she would never go back to Camden, even though the property in Brasher Street was hers, unless her aunt had altered her will before she died, which was doubtful. It was best forgotten. Later, she could dispose of it secretly. She would never dare go back. Auburn Township had-branded her and Sandra. The town and Eddie Mathis. There was no turning back.

Now she had to make her own way, and being of the nature she was she didn't greatly care how she made the grade so long as she could make money one way or another. The idea of prostitution hadn't occured to her. Sex was enjoyment, and she had never thought of it on a commercial basis. She'd always had a hankering for show business, and all she wanted now was a chance to show what she could do.

She wasn't sure how Sandra would fit in or what to do about their intimate relationship. Sandra lacked push. She despised men and was pretty much of a broken reed on her own. There was no possibility of her ever being anything except what she was, not even the remotest chance that she would ever emerge from the dark, strange world in which she existed. She needed careful handling, and probably the arrangement wouldn't work out. But for the present there was no practical alternative.

Mavis sighed. She stood up, naked, and paused beside the rumpled bed, unaware that Sandra was awake until she felt the girl's gentle touch on her buttocks. She turned then to find Sandra gazing avidly at her nakedness. When the blonde drew her down onto the bed she protested but complied despite the irritation she felt. She allowed Sandra to embrace her, to kiss her lips, then her nipples, to fondle her body. She lay there, relaxed, wondering how Sandra would react if she was suddenly reminded of those other, masculine hands that had caressed that same yielding flesh only a few hours before ... Presently the soothing gentleness of the soft hands stroking her stomach aroused a mild response, and she experienced a feeling of warmth and tenderness coupled with mild satisfaction.

Abruptly, as if suddenly realizing where she was and the circumstances of her being there, Sandra thrust herself to a sitting position.

"That man!" she exclaimed, "There was a man. Where is he? What happened last night? Why are we here? Mavis!"

"Don't get alarmed. We're in Phil's apartment. He put us up for the rest of the night after we'd been driving round."

'Who's Phil?"

"Phil Benton, the cab driver who picked us up at the station. Surely you remember? It was too late to do anything else. He brought us here."

"Where is he now?"

"Gone. To work I guess." She didn't mention the note. She got off the bed, went to the window and drew the drapes.

"Nice day," she remarked. "Let's freshen up and get out of here, have something to eat. I'm starving. After that we'll look for a room. Phil gave me some addresses."

"Was he here all night?"

"Well, yes. But what of it? After all, it is his apartment, darling. He did us a favor."

"But you didn't?" Sandra persisted. "I mean, he didn't sleep with us? You wouldn't, do that-not with a man?" There was positive disgust in her tone.

"Of course not, silly," Mavis lied, "Oh, I let him kiss me a few times. Well, I let him touch me once or twice. But it didn't mean anything. He's nice, really."

"I couldn't bear it if I thought you didn't love me any more, that you let a man do those awful things mother and...."

"Sandra, I told you. Nothing happened. Nothing bad ... Maybe he slept on the sofa, or perhaps he didn't get any sleep at all. All I know is when I woke up he was gone."

"But in the cab you encouraged him ... And, Mavis, he must have seen you get undressed!"

"Stop it! You'll have to get used to the idea that you can't have me all to yourself all the time, Sandra. If you love me, trust me. He saw no more of me than I wanted him to, believe me. No man will ever do anything to me that I don't want him to. Now shut up and get off the bed. We've got a busy day ahead."

The way she said it was convincing. The double meaning escaped Sandra completely. She smiled.

"I'll always trust you, darling," she said, "and love you. It's wonderful to be free."

Poor Sandra, Mavis thought. She could make things very difficult. Mavis wished she'd started out alone. The former passionate association between her and Sandra had little meaning now. After being mauled by inexperienced boys Mavis had often experienced a thrill making love with Sandra. But what she had known with Phil Benton was real, completely satisfying at least for a while, and she knew that from then on there would be other men, that what Sandra had to offer was no longer adequate.

Mavis sighed. She could go further alone, and faster. But she wouldn't desert Sandra. Neither would she deny herself the attention her body craved. If Sandra learned the truth and broke up their friendship so much the better. But things might work out, and ordinarily Sandra was good company.

They bathed, tidied the place, then left quietly, latching the door. They ate breakfast at a dingy cafe a block from the apartment. Mavis bought some cigarettes. The stares of a beady eyes character sitting across the room put Sandra off her food, and she was pleased to get out of the place. Looks never bothered Mavis. She had a healthy appetite that nothing short of serious illness could diminish.

They walked to the first address Phil Benton had given her. As he had said, it was a bad district for cheap rooms. By mid-day they had spent two dollars on cab fare without finding what they were looking for. Finally they got a break when Sandra spoke to a well-dressed woman in a powder room near Times Square.

The woman had a cousin over on 46th Street who rented apartments to approved tenants. She favored the girls with a significant searching look when she used the word "approved!" Perhaps, she said, her cousin might have a room if they told him she'd sent them.

They flagged a cruising cab and rode right on over. The cab dropped them at the corner of 46th Street.

He was wheezing somewhat when eventually he halted outside an unpainted door numbered 4c. He coughed, dropped the cigar stub, ground it under his shoe heel, thrust open the door and stood back to make way for the girls. Tire hinges squealed protestingly. Al groped for the light switch, and a pale yellow glow illuminated the room. As he'd warned them, it wasn't fancy. The walls were bare, their only decoration being strips of wallpaper hanging loosely here and there. What meager furniture the gloomy lay-out boasted was badly knocked about and riddled with woodworm. But the coverings on the large double bed seemed reasonably clean.

"Kitchen's through here," Al said, pointing. "Bathroom's on the floor below."

He flipped the kitchen light on, and a dozen or more fat cockroaches scuttled from the pool of light into shadowy corners. Several more on the table top moved around with long feelers questing, as if uncertain whether to run or stay put. When Al gave the table leg a heavy kick they scattered quickly enough.

"Ain't nothin' to worry about," Al assured the girls, grinning at the expressions on their faces. "You get used to them. Every place in town is plagued with the damn things. I'll put down some more killin' powder."

He stared at the swell of Mavis' breasts, fascinated by the proud display. Abruptly he switched his impudent stare to Sandra's prominent behind, licked his lips like a moulting mountain lion about to spring on a prime young fawn doe.

"You girls got class he remarked. "Should do pretty good around here if you keep your noses clean. If you want the room it's fourteen dollars a week in advance. Come and go as you like, and no rules about visitors. Okay?"

"I don't know," Sandra began, "It isn't...."

"We'll take it," Mavis cut in, "Thanks, Al. We are close to Broadway here, aren't we?"

"Broadway? Hell, it's no more'n a fairish walk east. C'mere. See that? That's the Empire State building. You can see the top few floors from here. Few blocks east is Broadway. You figurin' to crash into some strip joint or somethin'?"

"If you mean a revue, a legit show, yes. We do need jobs."

"Jobs? You mean as a front? I'd say you got talent, that's for sure."

Mavis paid him with three fives.

"You girls are kinda different to the usual run we get around here," Al said. "You're green but you'll learn okay. Ain't got change. I'll bring it up later. Anything you want, anything at all, just let me know."

"We'll do that."

At the door Al paused with one hand on the knob. He grinned, and winked at Mavis.

"Wouldn't mind being your first customer," he said pointedly. "Might even made a deal about the rent." He went out chuckling. Sandra frowned.

"What did he mean, our first customer?" she demanded. "What does he think we are?"

"Whores likely."

"What?!"

"Prostitutes. It's pretty obvious that's the type of a girl he's used to renting rooms to. If he'd stared much harder at your backside he'd have lost his eyeballs altogether. But it doesn't matter what he thinks. The main thing is we've got a room, such as it is. I'll do till we can look around for something better. The important thing is to get jobs."

"Yes, you're right, of course. Oh, Mavis, I feel so excited. It's wonderful to be free, with everything just the way I've always wanted it, just you and me, together...."

She flung herself onto the protesting bed and lay kicking her shapely legs in the air. Her dress rucked up above her waist, and she was like that when Al Grant tapped lightly on the door and then came right on into the room.

"Brought your change, girlie," he explained. "Phew! Now that's what I call a well stacked chassis. Oh, brother!"

He extended his hand with the money towards Mavis but kept looking hard at Sandra, who, with surprising candor, for her, rolled off the bed, turned er back on him, then bent over and deliberately flipped up her dress to exposed her thinly covered buttocks., "There," she said coldly, facing him again, "you've got your eyeful. Now get lost!"

Al laughed, but he was visibly shaken. "Don't ever let me catch you in that position, honey," he told Sandra, "unless you crave some action."

He ducked out just in time to avoid the shoe she hurled at his head. "Cheeky swine!" Sandra yelled after him.