Chapter 2

"Hello, anybody home?" I shouted pushing the door open and stepping into Johnny Cataldo's suite. The hotel, hedging its bets, had given each of the top contenders one of its so-called international suites. The Cataldos had been assigned the Pacific suite.

It was Pacific in every way. The padded walls and wall-to-wall carpeting held any noises down to a minimum. It was like a tomb when I stepped inside. The living room was done in Danish modern with an aquamarine color scheme to give one the idea of the interior of a fish bowl. Somewhere there was even the sound of running water.

I figured quickly that it must have been Angela because I didn't spot her anywhere in the living room which was lighted by only the dim illumination of two huge lamps at opposite ends of the room.

"Hi-ho, Angela. It's Mark. Mark Vista. Johnny asked me to come by for you." My voice sounded hushed and sepulchral in the low-ceilinged room. I got the slightest sensation of uneasiness in my belly. What the hell was going on, anyway? I wondered.

I called again. "Angela. Are you here. It's Mark. I'm going on upstairs. Are you coming along?"

The sound of running water stopped. Then she called to me. Maybe my imagination was working overtime but her voice seemed overlaid with tones tinged with feverish passion and invitation.

"Mark, in here. In the bath. Come and be a good fellow and help me out."

Well, let it never be said that Mark Vista was not one to help a lady in distress. I flipped the lock on the door to the suite and jogged silently across the rugging to the door of the bathroom around to the left of the living room and off the hallway leading into this immense bedroom done all in blues and greens.

Just to be on the safe side since I might have heard her wrong I asked: "You want me to give you a hand?" To myself, I thought of something else I'd like to give her, something big and hard and throbbing and that she'd love being hoisted up on. "

"Yes, Mark. Here in the bath. C'mon now, don't be bashful. It's all right."

Well, if she thought so, I wasn't about to argue. I fixed my expression in what I figured was a cool one and gaily pushed open the door with the tip of one finger. She was right. It was all right.

She was in the bathtub all right, just as I hoped. And she apparently was stark naked but you could never tell from the thousands of bubbles that covered the surface of the water from one end to the other.

"Hi, Mark. How sweet of you to come by for me. I'm so sorry, but you can see I'm not anywhere near ready. You'll tell Johnny for me that I'll be along a little later. I'll explain the delay."

All the time she was talking she was giving me this teasing look from her big black soulful eyes. She had washed off every bit of make-up but she was still a great beauty. Her glossy black hair was pinned up in a great Stygian-hued mass atop her head. Several tendrils had escaped from the pile and clung wetly to the nape of her neck and wide flaring shoulders, which shone like polished ivory from the moisture of the bursting bubbles under the soft fluorescent lights set in the green tiled walls. The damn bubbles rose right up to a vantage point just below her rather strong chin, ruling out even a chance for a peek at her own famous bubbles.

"Is that all, Angela?" I asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I thought she had said something about helping her out. I was hoping that she meant out of the bathtub.

"Oh, there is one thing," she said, her expression and voice making it quite obvious that she was on to me. "Do be a good fellow and do my back."

I tried not to look surprised as she handed me the long-handled plastic brush. I started innocently enough smack in the middle of her back but I gradually began to enlarge the work area. Angela didn't protest as I stroked her creamy white skin. Occasionally she gave out with a soft but audible sigh.

"That's heavenly, Mark," she said softly. "So nice and easy. Make me feel good all over."

She brought up her knees so they popped into view through the thick layer of bubbles, She rested her left arm across the bare knee caps and then laid her head down restfully, letting other loose strands of her black hair stream into the bubbles. Her other arm trailed out of sight beneath the bubbles and water.

I decided I had nothing to lose when I heard Angela's breathing definitely becoming louder. As I always said, "Nothing ventured, nothing lain." I revolved the brush so that in a few minutes its soft tufts were massaging her skin under her arms. With her head bent forward and her left arm raised across her knees, I could see the crease that circled out from under her side to mark the utmost limits of one of her swollen honeydews. I deliberately gave that beautiful ridge a little extra pressure when I slowly brushed across it. I also began working downward into the depths of the bubble bath and the water, reaching for the line that split those nethermost cheeks pressed firmly against the bottom of the tub. I was wondering if a little rubbing at my end might not get the front end of that crack tingling with hot desire.

I was making big circles now around the great expanse of her arched back. Getting continuous special treatment on each pass was the first swelling of her left melon and that exciting wrinkle which came up around her bottom to end near the start of her pronounced backbone.

Angela had to be getting the message. I was beginning to warm up a little myself and it wasn't from my brush work. My penis felt like a snake straightened out by an electric bolt and trying to escape from its cage. I had to reach down and give my trousers a tug to be more comfortable.

Angela was getting the message. She began moaning and repeatedly telling me how good it felt. like a big kid. I felt she had just complimented on some big coup. I increased the pressure of the brush on every area of skin it passed along.

"Mark, oh, it's so good. Don't stop. Please don't stop!" Angela cried.

I didn't know whether to jump out of my clothes and dive in or what and could only say, "Glad you like. I aim to please."

I figured if she just would look up for a moment I would give her a fast whirl right in the damn tub even with my clothes on if necessary. By that time I was raring to go and could feel my equipment hot against the inside of my thigh. I wanted to yell to her to turn around. To look up. Just give me the word.

It was then that I noticed her right shoulder was jerking forward and back and the arm that was down in the water was rhythmically moving up and down. What the hell! I didn't get it for a minute. Then it came to me. She was taking care of herself down there with one of her fingers.

The goddamn bitch! I thought. Is that what she was doing? And me with something twice as long and three times as thick. I looked down at her. She was really beginning to heave her whole body around in the water.

"Angela, baby. Can't I help out?" I cried, my voice muffled and husky and filled with wanting her.

"No!" she replied. "Just keep brushing. Please, Mark. Don't stop. Not now. I'm right on the brink."

"Yeh, but what about me? I'm ready to pap too, just watching you and smelling you. I'm as hard as a brick. Let me toss it into you and we'll go over the falls together."

"No, Mark," she said, with even greater urgency in her voice. "No, there isn't time. I'm going to make it alone. Later maybe. Later ... later."

I saw it coming and got out of the way just in time to keep from getting all splashed to hell when Angela went on her back against the end of the tub. The receding waves pushed aside the bubbles and her huge bubbies jutted out of the water like two enflamed volcanoes. Each of them rose at least ten inches from the surface and did not touch anywhere along their entire length.

Angela thrashed about in the water, turning it into a frothing welter of bubbles. Her head went back onto the edge of the tub. Her big mouth gaped open. Her breath came hot and heavy between the even white teeth. Her left arm was flung up in the air. Her right hand was below the water. Her finger relentlessly kneaded her flesh down under the dark thatch of coarse hair visible under the surface.

I was up against the wall, taking it all in and trying to keep dry when Angela's magnificent body, her thrusting cones leading the way, burst like an arched bridge up out of the water. Holding her tremendous torso aloft only with her head pressed against the back of the tub and the balls of her feet fixed onto the bottom of the bath, she continued to work her finger in that insatiable orifice.

I could see the end coming when an expression of intense pleasure took possession of Angela's face. Her eyes appeared as though they were going to pop. She looked as though she was about to scream. The muscles and veins in her neck stood out. The fantastic fullness of her gigantic spheres were displayed to my fullest scrutiny and I gave them every look possible. I couldn't take my eyes away from that unbelievably flexible finger which had me practically hypnotized by its frantic motions between Angela's legs.

I'm still trying to figure out how I can get in on the action, what with my efforts to keep dry and the acute knowledge that Cataldo must be expecting me upstairs in his working suite, when I see Angela begin to shudder all over. The water and soap zip off her just like a dog shaking himself after coming out of the water. Her mouth looms wide open and she gives out this great moan. Scared the hell right out of me. Then she goes rigid except for her thighs which quiver like an excercising machine. Her legs spread as far apart as possible within the confines of the bathtub. Her finger drops away, its duty done.

Angela must have stayed like that for a whole minute. The mouth agape and only moans coming out. The strong round thighs quivering. The black thatch bouncing up and down and Angela still only supporting herself by the back of the head and the flat of her feet.

She looked over at me, ecstasy suffusing from every pore of her oval face. Her eyelashes flickered heavily and she emitted a low sigh. Then she gently lowered her long white body into the water.

"It was wonderful, Mark. Wonderful. You can wash my back any time," she said appreciatively, glancing at me.

"The hell with your back, Angela," I said sore as hell. "I'll do the work of your finger but with something much better. You think that was good? I'll raise you right up out of that bathtub."

"Hmmm," Angela said, staring at the pulsating bulge in my trousers. "I bet you could too, Mark. Maybe later. We'll see. Now help me out."

She motioned for a towel and I picked up a big blue Turkish one and held it for her. As I planned, she had to step out of the tub to get within its comforting folds. My eyeballs really got their fill when she stepped out of the tub. For a second there, while she had one leg out and the other still in the tub, there was a lot of space between her legs. I was sorely tempted to drop the towel and come right up under her. All that black hair, with the water trickling out of it and tiny bubbles still breaking up within its confines, made me thirsty to take a great big mouthful just like it was a sponge. In my imagination, I could almost taste it. The musky fragrance filled my nostrils.

Discretion got the better part of me and I let her step out with the other leg without grabbing for that fur cup I was so thirsty to drink from. But I made up for it a bit as she backed into the folds of the towel I was holding. As soon as she took the edges in her hands, I pulled her body to me by grasping hold of her gargantuan globes. My spread fingers hardly covered their taut fullness but I controlled them by pinching their red rooks between my thumbs and forefingers. With those big buttons in my grasp, I held her in my power. I felt the buttons stretching alive under my skin. I was getting to her. Good! After what she had done to me!

"Mark, please," Angela pleaded. "You're hurting me. C'mon now. I'll tell, Johnny."

I laughed. "You'll tell Johnny. The hell you will. Not after that act you put on for me. You damn bitch! Leaving me at the gate while you go off fingering yourself to the sky."

"I couldn't help it, honest, Mark. You got me started with the brush. I don't know it always happens. I remember my mother doing it and then my roommate at college and Mary at Merrymount."

"Mary, who the hell is she?" I asked puzzled.

"Our maid out to the house. You know, you've seen her. The one who served the drinks when you were there about a month ago for the policy meeting with Johnny, Phil and the others."

I remembered then. I remembered how I had thought at the time Mary offered me the tray with the choice of a martini or a manhattan that she would be a real tumble. Yet there was something standoff about her. Devoid of make-up, she was almost manly.

"Yeh, that's all right for them," I said. "They're all females. It's different with me. I'm built differently. I'll promise you this, Angela, it won't happen again. Next time I'll jump right in with you even with my clothes on and there will be no putting me off."

Angela was rubbing herself briskly with the big towel. She raised it up to give her head a massage and the bottom edge of the towel just rested on top of the plump expanse of those big bubbies I was still holding on to and kneading with my thumbs and forefingers.

"It won't happen again, I promise, Mark," Angela said, a touch of contriteness in her voice. "But please leave off now. Johnny will be looking for us. Tell him I didn't like my dress and decided to change it. He'll understand. I do it all the time just when we are ready to leave."

"Okay, Angela," I said, relaxing my grip on those two immense melons which stretched out from her chest like two ski jumps. "But I'll be back later tonight. You make some excuse to Johnny that you have a headache and want to be alone. When all the politicking and talk is over, I'll be back and you better let me in or I'll knock you right on your big wop ass. And don't give me any Roman patrician jazz to the contrary. You've got a lot to make up to me and I plan to make it big. With this!"

I grabbed her hand and slapped it against my dying shaft, which apparently sniffed blood and came right back to its full proportions. "That's yours, baby. All of it. All eight inches. And you just better be waiting for it. Even in the bathtub if you want it there."

She looked up at me without saying a word. I could almost swear I saw a flash of hate in the depths of her large black eyes. What the hell was that for? Hell, she couldn't have been getting much of anything from Johnny. Least not that I could imagine. Unless he was taking hormone shots. Or maybe he had gone to Switzerland and had that operation or those shots of ground up goat gonads. Well, the hell with it. I was sore as a boil and I was going to spread her before the night was over.

"Just remember what I said, Angela. If you don't remember it will be thirty, baby, thirty for you."

She remained silent, obvious anger flaring within her eyes. Her lips were scornful too. Good, I like them fighting mad. Besides she would have time to cool off before I returned. And right then I had to get going.

I slammed the bathroom door behind me and walked swiftly across the soft carpet to the door of the suite. I listened. Once again the Pacific Suite was living up to its name. I expressed the hope that it would stay that way and stepped out of the apartment. Closing the door gently behind me, I straightened my tie and rearranged my jacket. My hair was quickly in place with two run-throughs of the comb.

I looked at my watch and cursed. The little episode with Angela had used up nearly a quarter of an hour. Cripes, I had to get going. The news conference was set for seven. Cataldo had to be briefed and probably handed a few cue cards like "N.C." for no comment. He was to look at that when he got a tough question. The card also told him to "smile" when he said "no comment." I'm serious.

"Where the hell have you been?" Cataldo barked as soon as I slipped into his ninth-floor suite. He never missed a trick and spotted me as soon as I came through the door. He was huddled with Kevin Tobin, his chief administrative aide and flunky, Jack Farley, a personal secretary, Tony Boffo, who was working on the city delegates, and Phil Newsome, who handled the radio and TV people and affairs under my direction.

I didn't bother to reply immediately. I don't like to talk to people across a room. It's very crude. But Johnny didn't feel that way. like I said, he has no class. It's all image and no substance.

"Hey, Mark, for cripes sakes, answer me when I ask you a question. Where the hell have you been? And for God sakes, where's Angie? I thought I told you to bring her up," he said in a heavy voice overlaid with just a veneer of an Italian accent.

"Relax, Johnny," I fired back. That's the way you've got to talk to him. Straight forward. Man-to-man. "I did just what you said. I would have been up here fifteen minutes ago except for the missus. She's all ready to come along when I go by the suite and then just like a woman she looks in the mirror and decides she doesn't like the dress she's got on. So I'm sitting out in the living room waiting for her when she yells out to me to go ahead because she still can't make up her mind what she wants to wear. So I'm late. You'll just have to blame her."

I probably wasn't a gentleman to put the onus of blame on Angela, but I was just beginning to subside in my pants and figured that it was one way to screw her.

"Okay, okay, Mark. I'll get after her. Get over here and let's see what kind of shape we're in."

I pulled up a chair and sat in with the group. The disappointment was, as usual, mirrored in Phil Newsome's face. The bastard wanted my job so badly he could taste it. Every time Cataldo chewed me out, Newsome gained renewed hope that I finally was going to get canned. I had news for him. Even if I did get bounced, he would never get the job. He just can't pull any weight. And he wouldn't know a news story if it jumped up and hit him in the kisser.

For the next ten minutes or so we studied the lists and charts we had prepared to keep account of where the delegates stood at any one moment. There were 600 delegates attending the convention and any one candidate had to have a majority to win the gubernatorial nomination. With five candidates, including Cataldo and Senator Tom Ward, seeking the nod, it meant one of them had to get at least 301 votes to win.

Our figuring and analysis showed that on the eve of the convention opening Cataldo had 295 votes for sure. Ward could probably count 294. The other three candidates were Mike Napolitano, a member of the Alcoholic Beverage Commission; Jim Swenson, a member of the House of Representatives; and Sally Fitzpatrick, a young housewife from one of the wealthy suburbs. The three of them had a total of ll votes. All we needed were six of those ll votes and we were home.

"Mark, after the news conference, you've got only one major assignment. Get after Sally Fitzpatrick and get her to throw her votes to us. I don't care how you do it just do it!" Cataldo said with a big leer on his pudgy bulldog face.

"Right, Johnny," I responded briskly, playing it like a good soldier snapping to for his commanding officer. "I've already found out, however, that she won't be in the hotel, much less the city, until tomorrow. Apparently, one of her kids is sick or something and she decided to hold off until tomorrow. But I'll be on top of her as soon as she arrives."

"Not in the lobby, I hope," Tony Boffo cracked. Tony was all right. We had made dual scenes together on several occasions. I appreciated his sense of humor and joined in the laughter.

"No, I think I'll be able to hold off until I can get her upstairs to her own suite. She's got the Alaskan Suite. I hope that doesn't mean she's an iceberg,"

"I'm sure your torch will melt her pretty fast," Tony came back. Again we all laughed. Phil Newsome's laughter was less than spontaneous. Screw him. When the convention was over I'd fix his wagon good and proper.

"Okay, okay," Cataldo blurted out. "We've had our laughs. Now lets get back to work. We've all come too far together to lose the prize in the last few hours."

Cataldo was forever repeating phrases from speeches that I had written for him. I hoped he wouldn't throw in a Kennedy quote. Coming from Cataldo, they sounded desecrated.

Jack and Tony made for the door while Phil and I stayed behind to brief Johnny in preparation for the press conference. There wasn't much to it. He was very clear on his positions on the various issues and had stock, safe answers for most any questions the news people could toss at him. But you always had to go over your ground carefully. Sometimes there would be a reporter who would figure (correctly) that we were trying to buy him with the free booze and food and just to be ornery he would come up with a tough question for our boy. Cataldo at times wasn't too quick on the uptake and would start to try and answer the question instead of resorting to his "N.C." card.

"I've gone over the list of newspaper reporters, including the State House columnists and newsmen, and Phil has checked out the radio and TV people. As far as we can determine they are all safe," I said.

"As far as you can determine..." Cataldo snarled. "This goddamn conference is live for half an hour. It would only take one s.o.b. to screw the whole deal. We've got to be sure of every damn last one."

"Well, I can tell you right now, Johnny, that my people are safe. That includes all the newspaper people and the wire services. I have to take Phil's word that the radio and TV people won't throw any bombs at you."

Phil's face reddened and I knew I had scored. Screw him. "I'll vouch for every one from my side, Johnny," Phil said, giving me a dirty look. I pursed my lips and threw him an invisible kiss.

"Okay, okay, Phil. Just remember though, I'll have your ass if you're wrong. You'll be so low on my shit-list, they'll have to jack you up to bury you. And I mean that, boy. One of those TV or radio prima donnas or homos ambushes me and I'll hang you up by your nuts from the nearest TV tower. And you'll stay there until they rip off," Cataldo leveled.

"It'll be okay, Johnny. I assure you," Phil said reassuringly.

"Let me see your list once more, Phil." I said reaching for it. He reluctantly handed it over. I quickly scanned it.

"Seems all right, Phil. But what about this Whynot broad from KCUB-TV? I'm not too familiar with her. Always seems a bit standoff-ish. like a virgin dying to lose her hymen."

I knew I had reached Phil because he responded angrily, "I said my people were all right, Mark. That includes Miss Whynot."

"Miss Whynot. La-de-dah," I jabbed him. "We are getting imagine with the members of the Fourth Estate. I hope we are not letting any personal relationship interfere with our good PR sense."

"Okay, okay," Johnny interjected. "Break it up.

Phil knows the score. He says she's okay, it's his responsibility. He's done okay this far. Now let's go in and get it over with. Go ahead. I've got to clean up a bit. Then I'll be with you guys."

"Right, Johnny. But remember, its set for seven o'clock. Little less than five minutes. We don't want to be late, not with the TV live," I pointed out. Cataldo was forever being late to his news conferences no matter how many times I told him that it set up a negative attitude in the minds of the newsmen. They didn't like to be kept waiting any more than any one else.