Chapter 16
Back In Los Angeles, Mike perfected his plan for knocking Jim O'Flanagan out of the championship game. The Pros had one more hurdle to meet before winning the divisional title and that was Sunday's battle with the weak Pittsburgh team.
But Mike wouldn't spring his trap until after that. Then his plan would be executed. Jim would visit Arlene in her apartment. He would, in the meantime, have a couple of Big Joe Thomposon's strong-arm men from Reno hidden in the bathroom. When Jim would be on the couch with Arlene, the guys would bust out.
One of them would pretend to be Arlene's estranged husband. He would accuse Jim and jump him, aided by his companions. They'd work Jim over pretty good, managing to break a finger or two on the kid's throwing hand. That would take Jim out of the picture. The kid would not be able to say a thing. How could he, being caught in such a compromising position with a nude woman, and him naked too?
As soon as that happened, Mike would arrange with Jessup and the point control deal would be worked out. He'd make it easy for Ron to lose the game. He'd just have to control the margin of victory. A single point would do it, mean several million dollars to the Reno crowd, and Ron could do it because he'd be the Pros only quarterback. And whoever controls the quarterback in pro football, controls the points. To Mike's way of thinking there was nothing unethical about all of this at all.
Mike was pleased with the scheme. He was sure he could pull it off. His trump card was Arlene. She was money in the bank.
Suddenly the phone rang. It was Arlene. Her voice sounded fearful and frantic.
"Mike," she sobbed. "I'm pregnant. It's our baby."
"What!" shouted the astonished and enraged Latin lover. "What the hell do you mean you're pregnant. And do you think I'm dumb enough to get stuck with the bill for that little bastard you're carrying?"
"Please, Mike, don't be cruel. It's got to be our baby."
"Like hell it does, you little tramp. What do you mean getting knocked up just when I have all these plans for you? Get right over here to my apartment. I want to have a talk with you." He hung up. He'd take care of her pregnancy in due time. In the meantime his cruelty asserted itself. He would make the little beast squirm.
A pale, tear-streaked cigarette girl presented herself to Mike in a short time. Mike greeted her without getting up. He was lounging in the blue silk pajamas she knew so well from their bedding together. At the sight of his indifference the distraught girl slumped on the bed and began crying. Mike smiled coldly at her sobbing figure on the bed.
"You stupid wretch," he said icily. "You go out and get yourself knocked up and then come to me for help. Can't you learn the tricks? You don't have to get a baby every time you crawl in bed with someone. Come here!"
Arlene half fell, half crawled from the bed to Mike's large, black leather chair. Mike watched her naked shoulders quiver as she sobbed. He reached down, ran his tanned fingers through her bleached blonde hair. Then he tightened his grip, gathering the strands taut, pulling back her head.
"Not so pretty now, are you, you peroxide tramp?" He forced her limp head back and forth in mock assent. "Like it?" he mocked. "Like to be kicked around a little, don't you baby?" He leaned forward contemptuously and placed his lips on her trembling mouth.
"Oh, Mike," she whispered, "are you going to hurt me?" She shivered with an eager fear. Never could she thrill like this with another man. Certainly not with the hick, O'Flanagan. Mike released his grip on her hair, flinging her back. She moaned and wept, collapsing in helpless surrender at his feet. Clutching his silk pajamas she slid to his bare feet, resting her lips there.
"Kiss my feet, baby," Mike said softly, approvingly. It was always better that way for Mike. A boy, in the Little Italy section of Cleveland where he grew up, he had felt the scorn of the pretty, fair-skinned girls who shunned "that dirty little Dago." Well, the dirty little Dago had grown up into a big handsome, successful business man and lover. And now all the fair-skinned blonde girls were going to pay the penalty.
"Get up," he commanded. She continued to cling to his legs and kiss her feet. He would be kind to her now. He needed her.
He patted her head. "Don't worry, baby. You and I have big plans. Don't worry about that pregnancy. We'll take care of it later. Right now, we've got big plans. Remember that mink coat and Thunderbird. Now I want you to hop a plane tomorrow and get over to Reno. Big Joe Thompson wants to meet you. And you know, baby, you got to make him happy!"
Arlene's face brightened. With Mike on her side again everything in her world of life and sin was okay.
"Mike," she said, "anything you say is okay by me."
Her plane arrived at the airport in Reno early Saturday evening. As she entered the lobby, she heard her name paged on the loudspeaker. Crossing to the information desk, she was intercepted by a burly man in a flashy sportcoat.
"You Arlene?" he grunted. When she nodded, he took her arm and led her to a waiting limousine. As she stepped into the plush interior of the automobile, she noted the gold crest of a famous hotel and smiled as she snuggled down into the spacious back seat. She thought this Big Joe Thompson might not be so bad after all ... he sure knew how to treat a girl right. Mike never sent his car for her.
She was greeted at the hotel desk by the reservations manager, who was very courteous, perhaps a little too much so, as she signed the registration card and the bellboy showed her to the waiting elevator as if she were a queen.
As the bellboy was leaving, he said: "Miss Wright, you are to just pick up the phone and ask for anything you might want. Those are Mr. Thompson's wishes. He's expecting you to dine with him at eight." She smiled at him and he didn't mind not getting a tip as he daydreamed for an instant about what he would do with her lush body on that big circular bed. His maleness showed up quickly and he left.
Arlene decided to try to telephone and see if it was all true, or just a wonderful, wild dream. She picked up the red telephone and the operator said: "Yes, Miss Wright, may I help you?" She hesitated a moment and then spoke in what she hoped was a gracious, queenly tone: "Is there any place in the hotel where I can get a dress? I left LA. suddenly and I don't have anything with me to wear to dinner tonight with Mr. Thompson."
Then dropping her queenly tone, she whispered, "Hell, honey, can you help me? I don't have a rag with me and I can't wear what I've got on, either outside or inside next to my skin. The mechanical tone left the operator's voice and she assured Arlene warmly: "I think you'll find Mr. Thompson has opened a charge account in your name at the dress shop here in the hotel, Miss Wright. Shall I ask them to send someone up to your suite with a selection of clothes?"
"Like yes!" squealed Arlene happlily.
She dashed around the room stripping off her clothes and singing gleefully as she did a mock bump and grind. She admired the mirrored reflection of her body. Then, dashing to the bathroom, she ran a hot bath for herself, pouring in lots of the expensive, exotic perfume she found had been left there for her. She had never been so happy in her life as she was right now. She felt like Cinderella.
After her luxurious bath during which she lovingly caressed her youthful body with soap and washrag, and soothed some aches from her doubting mind, she wrapped herself in a Turkish towel and threw her old clothes, undies and all, in the wastebasket. She answered a discreet knock at the door of her suite and two women came in carrying armloads of clothes ... everything ... dresses, nighties, negligees, hose, gloves, handbags ... everything she could need or want.
One of the women said: "For you, Miss Wright, with the compliments of Mr. Thompson."
They left the room and, just as Arlene was about to try on her new clothes, another knock sounded softly. Arlene ran to the door in her bare bare feet, her bare bottom barely covered by the towel. A man stood there holding a little attache case. Arlene looked puzzled.
"I'm Gene, your hairdresser," he lisped as he minced his way into the room. "Mr. Thompson has requested that I do your hair a certain way. Shall we begin, or would you like to dress first?"
Arlene giggled. "Gene, I'm sure I could drop this towel and you wouldn't care less ... let's do my hair now." She sat on the arm of the black broad couch and Gene started combing her long blonde hair.
"Tell me, Genie, what is Mr. Thompson really like? ... with girls I mean ... you know all the dirt ... give me a clue, Gene, and I'll make it worth your while if it pays off for me." Gene was delighted to give her the dirt.
"Well, dearie, I can give you a lot of very valuable help. It should be worth at least a hundred dollars to you ... if he likes your act, you'll get a lot more than that...." He continued coming her hair with one hand, and, with the other, reached around and patted her full breasts. "And if he likes them as much as I think he will."
"Gene, I'll give you a hundred ... and maybe more ... tell me everything...."
"Well, he's definitely a mammary man, sweetie. He's just wild for big, big, high, pointed ones. You've got a terrific pair ... he'll go ape for them...."
Arlene smiled happily and dropped her towel. "They are supposed to be pretty great, Gene. Look at them. Will he like them?" She arched her back and shook her shoulders for the little pansy hairdresser who licked his lips nervously and said, "Honey, you could almost make me go back to girls with that pair of knockers. But that's just the beginning ... notice how I'm combing your hair?"
Arlene turned to the mirror and nodded. "Just straight down ... it's hanging down around my shoulders ... you haven't started styling it yet."
Gene whipped a blue satin ribbon from his attache case with a flourish and said. "I'm finished." He tied the ribbon around her hair and fluffed it into a big ribbon on top. "My God," she exclaimed, "without makeup and my hair that way, I look like a 12-year-old kid."
Gene reached into the attache case again and said, "Now you're getting the picture." He pulled a pink gingham little girl smock out and held it out to her. "Try it on. This is the kind of clothes he loves to have his girl friends wear. And the shorter the dress the better, with full emphasis to the breasts and hips."
Arlene stood up, the towel dropped to the floor, forgotten, and confronted the little hairdresser angrily. "Whaddya mean? I can't go out to dinner with Big Joe Thompson dressed up like ... like ... Lolita ... for Chrissake!"
Gene smiled sweetly and closed the attache case. "Why don't you ask Big Joe about that, dearie?" He swished from the room with a limp wave of the wrist. "Don't forget the hundred sweetie, or I'll tell daddy you play games with the bellboys when he isn't around. Bye, bye."
He left in a cloud of his own perfume and she stood in the center of the exotic, mirrored room looking at the little girl smock she was evidently expected to be wearing when Big Joe Thompson arrived at eight. Just half an hour from now. Arlene sighed as she looked around the plush room.
She had dreamed all of her life about being a movie star and decided this would be a profitable opportunity to test her talents. She had seen a Ginger Rogers movie once in which Ginger played a 12-year-old. Well, she would regard this as dramatic training. With this rationale, she was happy. It was going to be a game-a pretend game.
Mike would be happy if she made Big Joe happy. And if she made Big Joe happy maybe she would be able to stay in Reno and live like this for a while. And buy some more clothes. When Big Joe knocked at the door at eight, she romped to answer it, wearing her little gingham smock and bloomers ... and not much else.
Swinging the door open, she squealed, "Daddy! I'm so glad you're here." She threw her arms around the big old man and pressed her lush body close to his. Big Joe Thompson was delighted.
He led Arlene to the big, soft black couch and motioned for her to sit on his knee. Snuggling up to him, she nibbled at his ear and smacked him on the face with childish, hot kisses as she wiggled her rounded, almost bare bottom on his lap.
Big Joe was transported off into his own dream world. His voice shook a bit as he told her, "Now, you're acting like a naughty little girl. You shouldn't wiggle that way on daddy's lap. He'll think you know more than a little girl should! Are you going to be daddy's good little girl?"
Arlene liked the feel of her bottom moving over his lap and it certainly gave him a thrill, she could tell that from his reactions. His breath became shorter, his hands moved over her more intimately and his eyes seemed glazed as he looked down at her. He patted her knees and ran his hand through her hair. His other hand roamed at will over her tight dress and even under it to her bloomers, showing slightly under the short dress.
Big Joe pulled up her smock and pulled down her bloomers before he placed her over his knee and spanked her pink bottom. "Daddy has to spank you first," he panted, "because you're a naughty girl to tease daddy like you do. But daddy will make you feel good after he spanks you. He will teach you new ways to have fun. You are too young to know them now, so daddy'll show you."
Arlene cried and begged "daddy" to stop, even though she enjoyed the spanking more and more with every slap of his hand. Daddy loved her crying and he spanked harder and harder until Arlene's tears of pain and sexual excitement were real. Then he stopped and pulled her to an upright position on his lap again, patting and stroking her all over as her sobs ceased.
Her eyes were still full of real tears and her pink bottom smarted as she looked up into his face and tried to smile. He kissed her full on the mouth, not as a man would do to a little girl, but as he would to a woman. Arlene looked surprised and pulled away from him slightly as a little girl would when a stranger tried to kiss and fondle her.
Softly she lisped into his ear, "I'm going to call you big daddy ... cause now I know why they call you Big Joe!" His old veined hands found her breasts and began massaging them sensually under the dress. She wore no bra so they stood out prooudly. His still virile body responded strongly to the erotic stimulation the little girl provided with her hands to his cock. His hands roamed everywhere eagerly until she was carried away by her own act.
She lay back on the couch, her dress nearly to her shoulders, her bloomers now off and on the floor beside Big Joe, fully exposed to his caresses. Her hands still sought intimate spots on his body.
Big Joe picked her up from the couch and carried her in his arms with the bull strength developed on the rock pile, and placed her spread out on the huge circular bed. He removed the rest of her clothes, noting the womanly upthrust breasts, the flat stomach and blonde hair spread over the pillow despite it being cut short.
"There's your little playpen, honey. Daddy's going to play a lot of games with you there. He's going to teach you some more games and he may spank you if you're not a good girl, so treat your daddy nice ... treat daddy nice.
"Yes, honey, it's all right for us to do this because I'm your daddy ... that's it ... oh, you're such a nice little girl ... daddy likes that so much, honey ... that's it ... do it again ... and let daddy play too. Be good to your daddy ... be good to him and he'll show you a good time ... that's daddy's good girl."
Already Big Joe's prick was semi-rigid as she fondled it beneath his stare. Then, gradually she lowered her mouth to his rising and falling stomach, and trailed a tongue moistly down toward the slightly throbbing cock. She heard him suck in his breath as she lifted it with a thumb and forefinger, so that it was standing straight up. Curiously she examined the red head of it, then slowly lowered her mouth, brushing her lips over the velvety tip. Big Joe gasped out his pleasure and rested a hand upon her blonde hair. At the same time he reached down and touched her wet cunt lips.
Thusly encouraged, Arlene now took the entire head of the suddenly stiff prick into her mouth, an inch at a time until she felt it practically touching the back of her throat. She bobbed her lips up and down the slickened shaft, and the same time gently pumped the base of the shaft with her hand.
Big Joe began writhing around, sobbing and moaning out his pleasure. She felt the hard cock give a jolt and a buck inside her mouth, and she knew that he was going to soon come.
She wasn't sure whether she wanted to take his cum in her mouth as she kept sucking on the tip, and as she sensed that his shooting was but seconds off, she began to lift her lips off of it in order to pump it with her hand.
But now Big Joe's hand clamped down upon her head, holding her mouth in place. Arlene had no choice. She shut her eyes and sucked vigorously, feeling the cock suddenly squirm in her mouth, then disgorge a thick, creamy glob onto her tongue.
Later, lying naked next to "daddy" on the bed, Arlene smiled in the dark room. Big Joe Thompson was asleep, snoring loudly with his mouth wide open. She thought he was a repulsive old man but she had liked everything this evening.
He gave her a real thrill when he spanked her. He gave her a thrill not even Mike had ever given her. Arlene contemplated a life of luxury in this luxurious suite in this glamorous, famous hotel where all the big movie producers gambled ... she even thought of picking up the telephone and asking that more clothes be sent up for her approval ... she sighed and stretched her nude body on the black satin bedspread and snuggled up to her "daddy."
He stirred slightly as she placed one hand on his naked chest and tweaked his nipples tenderly. Her lips caressed his stomach and when he came awake, his lips found hers and they kissed passionately, not like a 12-year-old girl and her daddy, but as a man and a woman.
She saw his rapid response and loved him for it. His eyes traveled over her slim body, noting the out thrust breasts with their pink tips, her flat belly, her long sexy legs that thrashed around as his lips and hands followed his eyes. Her thighs were moist, and little gurgling sounds came from her throat as he found tender spots.
But when the warm, moist length of his tongue had stabbed directly between the quivering lips of her delicious young cunt, her mind became filled only with the sensations his tongue was fanning all through her body.
She closed her thighs around his head, locking him into place, feeling that talented tongue of his, a talent honed by age and experience, flick crazily over her erect little clitoris, sending a shot of nearly agonizing pleasure all through her.
She screamed then, once sharply. It only made Big Joe go to work on her lush pussy in ernest savoring the creamy juice he was extracting from it as his tongue slowly drove her out of her mind.
Arlene was bucking and writhing on the bed now, thrusting her hips viciously up against his mouth.
He alternated the spearing plunge into her center by at the same time sucking the warm, wet lips there. Suddenly, though, he made a further adjustment in the pleasure he was giving her by driving a thumb deeply into her anus. She shrieked out her pleasure and began to feel wave after wave of ecstasy envelop her body.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...." Arlene screamed, coming in copious amounts, her body quaking as he began sucking virtually the very insides out of her pussy.
She wouldn't forget that time dressed as a young girl, nor would he probably allow her to forget it. Arlene realized that each time they were to meet in the future in his or her bedroom, the game of love would be about the same pattern. She didn't mind and she was sure somewhere he would be generous for her actions.
Whispering in the dark to herself, Arlene said: "It just goes to show it pays to be a good girl."