Chapter 7
Arlene arrived in Chicago on schedule, chic and sexy in bright capri pants and a leopard skin jacket. Mike met her at the airport and drove her to her hotel.
It was a fancy layout that made her feel like royalty.
"That's what I like about you, Mike," she said happily, "you do everything with class."
"Everything?" asked Mike, pulling the beautiful cigarette girl close to him.
"Don't kiss me," she said, "you know what happens when your lips meet mine. I don't want to go to bed yet. I just got into town. I want to make the scene here. You know, I've never been in Chicago before today. I'd like to see the sights."
"Okay, baby. I have plans for you. We can wait."
"Plans? What plans?" asked Arlene, puzzled.
"Well, you didn't think I'd fly you all the way in from Los Angeles if I didn't have something in mind, did you?"
"You wanted to be with me. That's what you said!"
Mike laughed. "That was last night," he said, blowing a puff of cigarette smoke casually in the girl's pretty face.
"But what's wrong with me now?" Arlene asked, taking a deep breath and throwing out her beautifully rounded breasts like a pouter pigeon. Mike swept over the protuberances with frank appreciation, remembering the softness, yet firmness of them.
"Darling, you know I think they're beauts. And I'm going to help myself to them, don't worry. But I have a few chores for you to take care of first."
"Like what?"
"Like Jim O'Flanagan," replied Mike.
Arlene stamped her foot. "Christ," she protested, "you know I can't stand that hick creep. I don't give a damn if he's the greatest quarterback in history. He's a square! Gives me the creeps. I've dated him a couple of times but only because you wanted me to do it! Now tell me something, Mike, why the hell do you want me to go out with this jerk?"
"To get information."
"What the hell kind of information?"
"About football."
"Football!"
"Yes, cutie, football! You see, Jim tells you things about the Pros. I ask you all about it. You tell me. It doesn't mean anything to you. But it means a lot to me. It's all because of gambling-you know, football betting cards. I give the Reno syndicate the correct line, the point-spread they print on those cards. Suckers play these cards by the millions every football weekend. Get it?"
Arlene recalled how Mike was always questioning her whenever she was out with O'Flanagan. "So that's why you asked me all those questions all the time," she observed. "Mike, you're too smart for me. That's why I love you. You're always way ahead of everybody."
"Do you remember Big Joe Thompson? Well, he's the boss of the whole business. I work for him. That's why I want you to be nice to him when you get over to Reno for a weekend soon."
They were in the bedroom now, and Arlene had slipped out of her capri pants and was preparing to change into a sexy, sheath skirt. She paraded around the room while Mike talked, well aware of the effect it was having on her Latin lover. Finally she took off her bra, and, bare to her lace panties, she regarded herself approvingly in the full length mirror beside the wide bed. She placed her hands on her hips and swung her lithe body around in a lazy exercise. She was teasing Mike.
"Aren't you going to be jealous when my nice young body gets handled by Big Joe Thompson?" she inquired sweetly.
His eyes bored into the girl as she continued to twist her shapely torso around. "I can't afford to get jealous," Mike said. "But I'll tell you this, baby, you do something to me."
"Now, now," she teased, "remember I'm Jim O'Flanagan's package. You can't have me. Besides, I want to go out first." Mike nodded, pulling her toward the bed.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," he said. Arlene saw them locked together, standing there in the center of the room. It was exciting as their bodies fitted perfectly from head to toe, like seeing two lovers in a movie. But Mike was fully dressed.
"There's one thing wrong," she said. "You have your clothes on!"
"I can take care of that in a jiffy," said Mike, and he began to do just that as Arlene flung herself on the bed and waited for her man to join her in a game of love. She luxuriated in the sight of her naked body reflected in the mirror. What a kick! She became aroused and excited, and when Mike joined her she turned her head and watched his strong arms and body hold her, and gather her, and cover her.
Little preliminary love play was necessary when they made love. Their bodies reacted quickly to any gesture, touch, kiss or even to some words as they wound themselves around each other amid moans of sheer delight from both.
"What's the matter, baby," Mike asked, noticing her absorption in the mirror.
"Mike, darling, look in the mirror."
"You look," Mike whispered hoarsely. "I've got something else to do. And you won't regret any of it."
"Fuck me, you bastard!" Arlene hissed at him between clenched teeth as his hand cruelly twisted the perky mounds of her fantastic, pulsating breasts.
Suddenly, Arlene broke away, and moved her head down his body toward the towering prick jutting up from beneath the slope of his belly.
She encircled the crimson, blood-gorged head of it softly with her lips. Mike pivoted his hips upwards, watching her, entwining his fingers into her hair. The hard, smooth, glistening cock slid further into her eager, sucking mouth, inching toward her throat.
Arlene's cheeks hollowed out as she sucked the huge cock, holding the balls beneath it between her fingers now, and urging the prick to shoot out the cum juice she sought.
Mike gasped. "You're one helluva cock-sucker, you cunt!" he hissed at her. Arlene, in response, sucked even harder, and Mike felt the first stirrings of an orgasm start in his scrotum.
His penis was a single, raging need, and now he pumped in and out of her mouth in a rising tide of frenzy.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he gasped, riding the cock toward the back of her throat.
Arlene twisted her body around so that her cunt now faced Mike. He twisted his head and speared his tongue deeply between the creamy red sex lips o," her begging cunt. He felt her body tense.
His tongue found the nub of her clit and rode it mercilessly. Then he pumped and unloaded his cum into her mouth as she climaxed.
She then surrendered herself to waves of molten sensation as her climax of love overwhelmed her. Mike too yielded to the urgency of her desire. Then they lay quiet, still on the bed, satisfied and united now in pleasant weariness.
"Oh, Mike, you're so great," Arlene finally managed to say. But Mike's thoughts returned to business quickly.
Mike laughed. "Listen kid," he said, "You and I are in business together. And our first order of business is Jim O'Flanagan. I want you to pump him good. Ask him what tactics the Pros will use against Milwaukee Sunday. Ask him if there is anything special in the team offense. Ask him if he thinks he or Ron Jessup will play most of the game. Get the facts, ma'm-only the facts."
"And what else am I supposed to do?"
"That is up to you. If he wants to sleep with you, well, who knows, it might be a kick."
"Wouldn't you be a little jealous?"
"Frankly, no."
"You bastard. I don't know why I do all these things for you."
"You just do them, baby. There'll be a mink coat and a new Thunderbird in it for you."
"Oh, Mike, promise?"
"It's a promise," said Mike. "Now I want you to get this O'Flanagan good. I've got big plans. And step one is to get O'Flanagan in the bag. That's where you come in."
"How dare you call me a bag!"
"Relax, honey. I didn't mean it that way. I want you to get O'Flanagan in the palm of your hand. Then you and I will get minks and Thunderbirds. Do you see?"