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diff --git a/79382-0.txt b/79382-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f021142 --- /dev/null +++ b/79382-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6035 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79382 *** + + + + + PARTY GIRL + + By DON ELLIOTT + + AN ORIGINAL NIGHTSTAND BOOK + + + _PARTY GIRL_ + + COPYRIGHT 1960, NIGHTSTAND BOOKS + + PRINTED AND BOUND + IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +_McCarten Had Raped Her_-- + +that had started it. She thought at first she would kill herself, +but Laura was a strong girl, a hungry girl, fired with smoldering +passions that often threatened to engulf her. So she did what seemed +logical--she sold her young body for a price. At first is was ten +dollars a customer, but when Phil Spinelli picked her out to work the +Syndicate's party girl role, she found herself going for higher and +higher prices. This is a searing, uncompromising novel of the big city +today, glittering with the shattered pieces of women's lives. It's a +story no one with a weak conscience should miss. Because Laura Haynes +could be + +_Any Wife, Any Sister!_ + + + + + _CHAPTER ONE_ + + +The moment she walked into the theatrical agent's office, Laura +Haynes found herself regretting it. There was no receptionist, only +an owlish-looking man of about forty, and he stared up at her with +intimate curiosity. His gaze seemed to go right through her clothes; +it was as if with his eyes he could lay bare her full, firm breasts, +her tawny thighs, her sleek, satiny buttocks. Laura had never been +appraised in such a _knowing_ way before. She felt color rising to her +face, and fought back the urge to turn and run out. She stood grimly +where she was. + +"Are you Mr. McCarten?" she asked hesitantly. + +His eyes were riveted to the rising sweep of her breasts. It was like +being stark naked in front of him, Laura thought uncomfortably. + +"That's right," he said. "Ned McCarten, just like it says on the door +behind you. What can I do for you, Miss--Miss--?" + +"Haynes. Laura Haynes." + +"Sit down, Laura." He gestured to a chair to the left of his desk. As +Laura walked across the room toward it, he followed the fluid sweep of +her hips and buttocks eagerly with his eyes. She lowered herself into +the chair and crossed her legs, hiking her skirt up above the knee. +_Might as well give him a show_, Laura thought. _He's going to want to +look anyway._ + +He took in the display. Laura moistened her lips uneasily. McCarten +said, "I suppose you want a job in show business, Miss Haynes?" + +"That's right, Mr. McCarten." Her voice came out thin and squeaky, +little-girlish. + +"Make it Ned. Ned and Laura. Saves breath." He reached for a pad. +"Okay, Laura. Let's start at the beginning. What can you do?" + +"Well," Laura said nervously, "I can dance, I sing, I've done some +acting--" + +McCarten made idle scribbles on his notepad. He seemed uninterested. + +The telephone rang, cutting Laura off. "Excuse me," McCarten said +mechanically, and picked up the phone. While he talked, Laura glanced +around the office. It was a squarish, cluttered room, opening onto +a smaller room at the right. The larger room had a desk, a piano, +an old leather couch, some bookshelves, and a table piled high with +sheet music, magazines, and old copies of _Variety_. The prevailing +impression was one of sloppiness and clutter. On the walls were +several dozen framed and signed photographs, none of them of people +Laura recognized. Most of them were women. Laura was a little surprised +to see that one picture, directly behind McCarten's desk, showed a +totally nude girl, wearing not even a G-string. She was grinning gaily +into the camera; her breasts were full and heavy, her hips ample, her +thighs round and thick. Squinting, Laura made out the inscription in +the corner of the photo: _To Ned McCarten, the man who made me ... what +I am. With love from Dawn Ryse._ + +She wondered what sort of a girl would give a man a photo like that, +with everything showing. Probably some strip-teaser, Laura thought, +that McCarten had helped find work. She wondered about the inscription, +whether it was just a joke or if perhaps there were some truth in it. + +McCarten finished his conversation and hung up. "The damn fool," he +muttered, looking up. "Expects me to produce miracles for him every +time he snaps his fat fingers. Oh, well. Where were we?" + +"You were asking me what I could do." + +"Oh. That's right," McCarten said. He chewed speculatively at the end +of his pencil. He was a short, squat man, going bald in the middle of +his scalp. His face had a loose, sensuous look, but the eyes behind the +thick glasses were fiery and intense. "You sing, you dance, and you +act," he mused. "Any professional experience?" + +"Not--really." + +"What does that mean, 'not really'?" he asked sharply. + +"I mean, not for very much money. I did some singing at county +fairs, local dances, you know. But you can't really count that as +professional, can you?" + +"No, you can't," McCarten agreed sourly. "Where are you from?" + +"Kansas," she said. "Marshall, Kansas." + +"And how long have you been in New York?" + +"F-four days." + +"And you're living with an aunt," he said. "Or else you have a room at +the YWCA. Which is it?" + +"I'm living at the Y," Laura said in surprise. "But how did you know?" + +"It isn't telepathy, honey. Do you think you're the first girl who ever +came from Kansas to New York to get into show business?" He drummed his +pencil on the scarred desktop. "You're a rank green-horn, no experience +worth a damn. Well well well. How old are you?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"That on the level?" + +"Of course. I was twenty-one last month. March 23 is my birthday." + +"Okay, skip the genealogy. Parents living?" + +"They died when I was a little girl. I lived with my grandparents." + +"On the farm, I suppose. And you read the picture magazines and dreamed +of coming to New York. And now you're here, expecting to be showered +with gold." + +"You're making fun of me," she said, reddening. + +"I'm just feeling sorry for you, honey. I see so goddam many of you +come this way. Apple-cheeked flowers of American womanhood, you know. +All of you beating a track toward fame and fortune." He shrugged. +"How'd you come to pick me out of the book?" + +"I looked up theatrical agents in the classified telephone directory. +Your office was the closest one to the Y, so I came here first." + +McCarten smiled. "Okay. You sing, you dance, you act, and you implore +me to find work for you. Got anything special in mind? A Broadway lead, +or prima ballerina at the Met, or--I'm sorry, Laura. What kind of work +would you like to do?" + +Laura was confused. Half the time McCarten seemed to be poking fun +at her, the rest of the time he appeared almost paternally concerned +about her. After a moment's hesitation she said, "I'm willing to begin +anywhere, Mr. McCarten. A chorus line, if I have to. Just so I'm in +show business, even at the bottom--" + +He looked at his watch, as though growing bored with the interview. +"Chorus girl, eh? Well, just for a starter, let's hear you sing." He +pushed himself up out of his swivel chair and stalked across the room +to the piano. "How about--ah--the Mary Martin thing from the Rodgers & +Hammerstein show. Starts off _I'm as corny as Kansas in August_. Kansas +girl ought to know that one." + +"All right," Laura said. + +McCarten gave her a brief introduction, nodded her a cue, and she sang. +She was so nervous that she started off sharp, but after the first +bar she got back on pitch and everything went well. With his back to +her, McCarten's expression was hidden. He played through the first two +verses, then suggested another Rodgers & Hammerstein tune. Laura sang +that one for him, and a third. + +After the third song he swivelled around. "Okay," he said. "You can +sing. Nothing spectacular, but at least it's easy on the ears and you +can carry a tune. You started sharp on the first one." + +"I know. I guess I was scared." + +"Well, after that you were okay. But the country's full of girls who +can carry a tune. You've got to have a figure, too." Again he eyed her +in that speculative way, as though undressing her. He went from the +piano to the closet, reached in, brought out some sort of costume. +"Here," he said. "Get into this and let's have an idea of what's under +the dress." + +"Right here?" + +He scowled. "Go into the next room, if you're bashful. I won't peek." + +Uneasily, Laura took the costume from him and went into the smaller +room. She closed the door. There was no way of locking it. + +The small room was piled high with junk--more old newspapers, cartons +of magazines, phonograph records, ledgers, all kinds of debris. Laura +put her handbag down on top of a stack of trade journals and examined +the costume McCarten had given her. + +There wasn't much to it. Just a pair of blue panties with spangles, and +a halter. They both looked a little small for her. With an uncertain +glance at the closed door, she began to undress. There was a keyhole in +the door, and she didn't trust McCarten very much. He was just the sort +who would peep at her while she got into the costume, she thought. +She moved to the side of the room, where she hoped she would be out of +peeping range, and closed the dusty venetian blinds. + +Her hands were trembling a little as she unbuttoned her blouse and +carefully hung it over a chair. The plaid skirt came off next, then the +half-slip. In the drafty office, she shivered a little in panties, bra, +and garter-belt. Her hands went behind her back and she undid her bra, +letting her breasts tumble free. She had an excellent figure, she knew. +Her breasts were big, but not so big that they drooped or dangled. They +thrust outward and upward from her chest, two rounded white globes +tipped with little reddish-brown nipples. + +Quickly she reached for the halter and put it on. It was tight, and she +just barely managed to get her breasts into the cups and fasten the +snap in back. Looking down, she reddened a little in embarrassment. The +halter was so tight it was like a second skin; there were evident bumps +at each nipple. + +Hurriedly, now, she rolled the panties over her hips, took down her +stockings, removed the panty-belt. She pulled the briefs up over +her loins. They were really scanty, just a tight triangle of cloth +round her waist. Craning her neck, she saw that several inches of +buttock were exposed on either side in back. For a moment she hung +back, frightened of showing herself to a strange man in a costume as +revealing as this. The thighs and bra seemed designed for a smaller +girl, and on her they were dreadfully provocative. + +For a moment she came close to getting back into her street clothes and +leaving. But that would be foolish, she told herself. She wanted to +have a career. She was going to have to show her body a little, if she +hoped to get anywhere in show business. + +She opened the door and walked into the other room. + +McCarten was on the phone again, but the moment he saw her he said, +"Excuse me, Phil. Something important just came up. Call me back in an +hour, huh?" + +Laura saw the reaction on his face. His fleshy mouth had sagged open, +and his bloodshot eyes were wide with surprise. She knew she had made +an impression on him. She stood by the door, throttling back her +embarrassment, while his eyes roamed her body. + +"Well?" she asked, smiling. + +"You're okay," he said hoarsely. "That's a pretty good build you got." + +"Do you think I can have a job?" + +He smiled. "I'd say the prospect's pretty good. But let's keep the +audition going. You know how to do a Charleston?" + +"Yes." + +"Okay, then. I'll play. You dance." + +He went to the piano again, and pounded out a tune for her, looking +back over his shoulder to watch her as she danced. Alone in the middle +of the floor, she did the Charleston for him. There were some uneasy +moments when she was sure her halter would break from her exertions. +She began to sweat, and felt the globlets rolling down her almost bare +body. McCarten seemed to be playing forever--hours and hours. Actually +it was no more than three or four minutes before he stopped. + +He walked over to her, appraising her. She was almost as tall as he +was, at her height of five feet five. + +She was panting, and she was afraid she would catch a cold, heating up +in this drafty office. But she said nothing. + +McCarten said finally, "You're not a bad dancer. And you've got a swell +figure." + +"Thank you." + +"I'm not complimenting you, I'm appraising you. No thanks needed. And I +think I can get you work. Chorus-line stuff at first, better jobs later +as you absorb professional polish. You've got a lot of natural ability. +With voice training and a decent dance coach, you can go places. Just a +couple of things that have to be checked, first." + +"What are they?" + +"Those," McCarten said. He extended two forked fingers. He was pointing +at her breasts. + +Laura blinked in surprise. "I don't understand." + +"The knobs. The knockers, honey. Are they real?" + +Color flamed in her face. "Of course they're real! I'm practically +naked in this little thing, anyway. I couldn't be fooling anyone." + +"I've got to be sure. Before I get you a job, I got to make certain +you won't embarrass me. Like I mean, I send over a girl with a Size +38 bust, and the second day she has an accident with her bra and it +turns out she's Size 33 with some foam rubber? That finishes me as a +supplier for that particular chorus. So I got to make a hundred percent +certain." + +Laura felt chillier. "What do you want me to do to prove it?" + +"The obvious, of course." + +She took a step back. "But--show myself to you? I don't understand--" + +"Do you want to get into show business or don't you?" McCarten demanded. + +"Well, of course I do." + +"Okay, then. I'm offering you a job worth $95 a week at the start, $120 +after six months. And you're giving me the modesty act." + +"I didn't think I'd have to undress myself to get a job. I'm sure other +agents--" + +"Other agents wouldn't even let you get past their receptionists," +McCarten said flatly. "They don't bother fooling around with green +talent. You were just lucky you walked in on a morning when I didn't +have much to do, so I was able to give you a break. Just try going +elsewhere, and see if you get anything. The contract's right there on +my desk for you. I'll send you right over to the studio and you can +start rehearsing this afternoon, and your first paycheck on Friday. +Now, come on. Show me what you've got, baby. For Christ's sake, there's +nothing so awful about displaying the body God gave you." + +_I don't want to_, Laura thought frantically. _I don't want to show my +nakedness to you. I'm not that sort of girl. But you've got a job for +me._ Her throat went dry. What did it matter, just taking off the bra +and letting him look? If it gave him satisfaction, and if he wouldn't +let her have the job under any other conditions-- + +"All right," she said in a faint voice. + +"There's a sensible girl." + +Her cold fingers went behind her back. She fumbled with the catch for +a moment, almost hoping that it would be impossible to get it open. +But the hook left the eye and the tight halter sprang away from her +breasts. She felt a sudden gust of cold air around them, and felt the +flaming redness of her skin. + +McCarten's eyes were like augers. He stared at the two high mounds with +awed fascination. + +"D-do I get the job?" Laura asked, stammering from shame. "Can I get +dressed now?" + +"Just a minute," he said in a strange, harsh voice. He moved toward +her, and before she could step away or cry out he was up against her, +his small soft hands cupping her breasts. She felt his pudgy fingers +tightening over the ripe swells, felt his fingertips pressing on +the suddenly hard tips of her nipples. His mouth was against hers, +cutting off all outcry. His hands left her breasts, went to her hips. +His fingers hooked into the waistband of her briefs and pulled them +down over her thighs, and she was naked, and he had his hands on her +buttocks, and then he was holding her in an unbreakable grip and +carrying her to the leather couch. + +She shoved his face away from hers. "Let go of me," she whimpered. + +"Just one little thing more, honey," he crooned. "Then the job is +yours. I promise--" + +"No. No--I'm a virgin--" + +He laughed harshly and pressed her down on the couch. She felt the +cold leather against her back and buttocks. She wanted to scream, to +cry out, but her voice betrayed her in her extreme fright, and nothing +emerged but a feeble little cry. He was kneeling above her, holding +her down with one hand, unzipping his trousers with the other. She +closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to see. She was weak and limp +with terror at the unexpected attack. His weight was on her, now. She +had her ankles locked together, but he slipped one foot between them, +and the hard shoe brought a little cry of pain from her, and she was +forced to break her grip, and the next moment he had spread her thighs +apart and she felt the sudden agonizing thrust, and the world swirled +around her crazily. She did not lose consciousness, but she felt dazed +and stunned, and she was only dimly conscious of his body moving above +hers, of the constant pain. And then she heard him shudder and let his +breath out hoarsely, and it was over, and he was rising from her. + +She looked at him in horror. _I've just been raped_, she thought +inanely, her mind catching up to reality. _He threw me down on the +couch and raped me._ + +"I didn't know you really were a virgin," he mumbled. "Christ, I didn't +think there were any virgins left. I figured you'd give me a good time, +to earn the job. I didn't know--" + +She shivered. Fire raged in her loins, and she looked down and saw +blood on the couch and she realized she was at the edge of hysteria. +All she knew was she had to get out of here. She pushed herself up from +the couch and rushed past him into the other room and began to pull her +clothes on. He followed her in. + +"Listen, baby," he implored. "Don't take it this way. I got carried +away by the way you looked, and all. Christ, I never suspected--listen, +calm down, I'll give you the job, everything will be all right--" + +"I wouldn't take your filthy job!" she cried. With trembling fingers +she buttoned her blouse. "Get out of my way!" + +"Don't think you can call copper on me, honey," he said, his tone +changing from a wheedling one to an angry one. "You don't have a case. +I can claim you came in here and tried to twist my arm to give you +a job, and pulled a tease act that made me lose my head at the last +minute. Agents are always having girls come into the office and try +to sleep their way into a job. The cops know the setup, and they'll +believe me. So don't try running to them. Be a smart girl and take the +job--" + +"No!" she spat at him. She snatched up her handbag and ran past him, to +the door, out into the hall. The world was reeling around her. + +_Raped_, she thought. + +She rang for the elevator. + + + + + _CHAPTER TWO_ + + +It was April, but a cool breeze was blowing down Broadway as she +emerged from the building. She stood for a moment, still dazed by the +rapidity with which it had happened. Her loins still throbbed painfully +from the violent attack. She could still feel the touch of his hands +on her breasts, the weight of his body above hers, the terrible moment +when the castle of her body was penetrated-- + +She began to walk, knowing that she had to keep moving or she would +crack. She walked mechanically, looking straight ahead, seeing nothing. +The interview had turned into nightmare so rapidly that her mind still +could not fully accept the happening, the transformation of herself in +a few short minutes of urgent action from a virgin to a soiled woman. +She had never thought it would happen this way. In Marshall, the boys +had always regarded her as too pretty for them; they put her up on a +pedestal, as the town's prettiest girl, and though everybody tried to +date her no one made any serious passes at her. There were plenty of +willing pimple-faced farm girls if they wanted sex. Laura had reached +the age of twenty-one without any real experience of life. And now she +had her experience. The hard way. + +She kept walking, uptown. A big clock on a building in front of her +read ten minutes to two. She did not want to go back to the Y. Somehow +she knew she would never be able to face the other girls, the matrons, +all of them. They would be able to see at a glance what had happened to +her, and she would never be able to face their smiles of pity. + +She wondered what she was going to do now. + +Go back home? Return to the farm and the sleepy little town, only +a week after she had left it? Come home devirginized, raped, a +sad advertisement of the terrors of big city life? That would be +humiliating. _I went to New York to break into show business, but the +first man I went to raped me and I came running home._ No, that would +never do. + +Go to the police? She was afraid to. McCarten was too shrewd. He would +never have attacked her if he hadn't thought he could get away with it. +He would come up with some angle to save himself. Her name would get +into the papers, and she would become a figure of public contempt, the +girl who yelled rape. + +What then, she wondered? Go to some other agent? And meet the same kind +of reception, she thought bleakly. One foot swung ahead of the other, +step after step after step. Dazed, confused, she had no idea of where +she was going, what would happen now. + +She reached Columbus Circle. To her left, the towering bulk of the New +York Coliseum loomed up. To the right were the plush hotels of Central +Park South. Straight ahead was the park, just beginning to blossom into +tentative greenness after the long winter. Numbly, Laura waited for the +light to change, and went across into the park. The wind was colder +there, with no buildings to block it, and she pulled her light coat +tightly around her. + +She found an empty bench and sat down, jamming her hands into her coat +pockets. A squirrel ran up to her, waited for a peanut, and, getting +none, scowled at her and went sprinting away. Laura tried to smile, but +no smile would come. + +She had started the day with such high hopes. She had made a list of +five or six theatrical agents in the area near the Y, and she had +planned to make the rounds until one of them found work for her, on +television perhaps, or in a chorus line of a nightclub or show. And +instead the day had turned into nightmare. + +_Why did he do it?_ she wondered. _Because he knew I was green, because +he figured he could get away with it. Maybe he didn't even have a job +for me. Maybe he was just sitting there with nothing to do, and when I +walked in he figured he'd try to get all he could out of me._ + +She sat there, brooding, feeling the pain still throbbing between +her thighs. She wondered if he had done any permanent damage, torn +something perhaps. + +_Maybe I'll kill myself_, she thought suddenly. + +The thought presented itself fully formed. She frowned in surprise as +it appeared in her mind. She had never thought of suicide before. But, +somehow, it seemed oddly appealing now. Here, alone in this strange +city, friendless, her body polluted with a strange man's lust, it +seemed a tempting way of wiping the slate clean. No more problems, no +more discouragements, no more heartache. Just rest. + +_There's a lake somewhere in Central Park, isn't there? Maybe I could +throw myself in. Or I could jump off a tall building, or step in front +of one of those speeding taxicabs._ + +There were so many possible ways of killing one's self in New York +City. It was simplicity itself. Laura rose, with a vague idea of +self-destruction in her mind. Suddenly she felt terribly dizzy, sick to +her stomach. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to lie down and die. +She took five unsteady steps and felt her legs beginning to give way, +and she lurched forward, trying to find something to hold on to. + +A girl appeared, walking briskly up the path. Laura took another +spinning step and started to fall. Blindly she reached out for the +strange girl, clutched at her, fell to her knees. She felt the pavement +scrape through her nylons. + +"Excuse me," she muttered. "Dizzy--so sorry--" + +She realized she was on her knees with her arms locked around the legs +of the other woman. Confusion shrouded Laura's mind. + +"Dizzy," she mumbled again. "Sorry--" + +"Here. Let me give you a hand," the girl said, in crisp, clipped New +Yorkish tones. Laura felt hands under her arms, lifting her to her +feet. She swayed unsteadily, trying to support herself, but the moment +the girl removed her hands Laura began to topple again. The girl caught +her before she fell, and eased her back to the bench. + +"You haven't been drinking," the girl said. "What's the matter? Dizzy +spells?" + +"I--I don't want to be any trouble--" + +"Just let your head hang back, and take it easy. I've got plenty of +time. Do you know what's wrong? Are you pregnant?" + +"No--just had a faint feeling," Laura whispered. "So kind of you to +help me. Don't want to be any trouble--" + +"You look all feverish. Are you sick?" + +"I'm--I'm dizzy, that's all. Chills all over." With an effort she +brought her head up and looked at her benefactor closely. The other +girl was no more than twenty or twenty-one. She was shabbily dressed. +Her face was pale and thin, and her dark eyes gleamed with almost +unhealthy brightness. Her lipstick was smeared. But she was smiling +sympathetically. Laura tried to return the smile. She was so glad that +despite all the stories she had heard about New York at least one +person was not too busy to help someone in trouble. + +Laura said in a choked voice, "My legs just dropped out from under me. +I've had a--a very upsetting experience. It sort of stunned me." She +began to shiver again. + +The other girl looked troubled. "Maybe I can take you home. Where do +you live?" + +"At the Y," Laura said. "On Fiftieth Street. But I don't want to go +there. They'll think I've been drinking. I don't want them to think +that. I--I don't know where to go--" + +"Let's go to my place," the girl suggested. "It's only a couple of +blocks from here. You can lie down until you get your strength back." + +"No, please--don't put yourself to any trouble--" + +"I can't just leave you here," the girl said. "Come on--give me your +arm. Can you walk?" + +"I think so." + +She leaned on the other girl, who, for all her leanness, was +surprisingly strong. They hobbled to the park entrance at Columbus +Circle. + +"I live on 58th just across Eighth," the girl said. "Come on, now. One +step after another and it gets us there." + +Somehow Laura found the strength to get across the street, past the +endless stream of autos. One step after another. She huddled close to +her savior, thinking only that it was wonderful for someone to have +come along and help her this way. Sweat bathed her body, and the city +around her seemed dreamlike and unreal. _Step. Step. Step. Step._ + +"Here we are," the girl said. "I live on the third floor. Lean on me, +and up we go." + +It was a shabby little building, with a dark, creaky staircase. +Clinging to the banister, Laura let herself be dragged upward. _Step. +Step. Step._ Rest for a few moments on the landing. _Step. Step._ Rest +on the second landing a moment. _Step._ Up the final flight of stairs, +down a dark corridor. Pause for a moment in front of a door while the +girl gropes for keys. The door opens. + +Laura stumbled inside. It was a long, narrow room, with two single +beds, a stove, a tiny refrigerator, a little broom-closet of a +lavatory. Laura sank down gratefully on one of the beds and kicked her +shoes off. + +The girl looked down worriedly at her. "How are you feeling?" + +"Sick." + +"You can stay here as long as you like. My last roommate is gone, +anyway. I like company. I'm Marilyn, by the way. Marilyn Rivers." + +"Laura Haynes." + +"Let me put up some tea, and then I'll help you out of your clothes. +You'll catch pneumonia this way." + +Laura lay back, limp, while Marilyn lit the stove and put a kettle +up to boil. Then the other girl gently lifted Laura up and slipped +her jacket off. "I'll open your bra," Marilyn said. "You'll be more +comfortable that way." + +Laura made no protest. Marilyn's cool hands slid into Laura's blouse, +groped for a moment, unhooked her bra. Laura took a deep breath as the +tight garment came loose. A moment later, Marilyn was unzipping Laura's +skirt and drawing it off. + +"You've got blood on your slip," Marilyn said. "You must be getting +your period." + +"No," Laura said faintly. "I was raped this afternoon." + +"You were _what_?" Marilyn gasped, staring down at her in shock. + +"Raped. By a theatrical agent. I was a virgin ... he made me +undress...." Laura shivered. The memory was too powerful; she could not +recreate the incident. + +"You poor kid," Marilyn murmured, shaking her head sadly. "And that's +why you're so bombed, eh? The bastard pulled a casting-couch routine. +Does it hurt much?" + +"Like fire. Fire between my legs." + +"Let's get some tea into you, first. Then a good hot bath. After that +you can tell me all about it." + +Laura watched through slitted eyes as Marilyn poured the tea, and she +said nothing as the other girl added a healthy slug of liquor to the +cup. + +"Sit up a bit," Marilyn said. "Sip it. It'll do you good. I laced it a +little." + +Laura drank the tea down, slowly. It warmed her, giving her an inner +glow that dulled the pain of the rape. After drinking it, she felt +strong enough to undress herself while Marilyn drew a hot bath for her. +Marilyn helped her into the tub. "You just lie there and relax for a +while," Marilyn said. "Your trouble is shock more than anything else." +Her eyes roved Laura's body with interest. "You've certainly got a +marvelous figure, Laura. You could go places with a body like that." + +"That's what I thought," Laura said bitterly, letting the warmth wrap +around her. "I was going to break into show business, I thought. And +then he made me undress and put on a little costume, and then he told +me to take the halter off, and he pulled the briefs off and threw me +down on that couch, and there he was on top of me, pushing my legs +apart, and--" She shuddered. "It makes me sick just to think about it." + +"Talk it out of your system, Laura. Don't try to keep it inside you." + +"After it was over, I put my clothes on and ran out of there. I guess +I was a little out of my head. I walked up to the park, and I was +thinking about killing myself, and then I just started to fold up when +you came down the path." + +"Lucky thing for you I did," Marilyn said. "In this city they'd just +let you lay there half a day. And then the cops would come pick you +up on a vagrancy charge. Are you going to call copper on the clown who +forced you?" + +"No," Laura said. "I'm afraid to. He's too smart--he'll end up proving +it was all my idea, or something." + +"That's wise. You can't win with bastards like that. You've just got to +try to forget what happened, Laura. You never will, but _try_." Marilyn +laughed. "I lost my cherry the same way, you know? Only it wasn't a +theatrical agent. It was a juvenile delinquent I went to a party with. +He had too much to drink and around midnight he took me home and ripped +my panties off and let me have it right in my own back yard. I was +fifteen. So I know what you've been through today. I made up my mind, +the night he broke my cherry. I said that I wasn't ever going to lay +for a man unless he paid me to do it. And I haven't ever done it for +free, either." + +Laura looked up at her new friend in bewilderment. "You mean--you sell +yourself?" + +Marilyn shrugged. "In a word, yes. I know, now, you're shocked. Let me +tell you something, Laura. Nobody in this city _except_ a whore would +have picked you up off the ground in the park. I know what it's like to +be stepped on, that's why I did it. I know what you're thinking, too. +You're thinking that I'm trash, and you're wishing you hadn't let me +bring you home." + +"No," Laura protested. "That isn't so." + +"Sure it is," Marilyn said calmly. "You can't help but think that. Deep +down inside you, you know that there are good girls and bad girls, and +that I'm a bad one and you're a good one. I wouldn't be angry if you +insisted on clearing out of here right this minute." + +"Don't say that," Laura said. "I--I try to judge people by what they +do for you, not by what they are. I mean, you helped me. Regardless of +anything else, I'm grateful to you, Marilyn." + +"But still you wish I weren't what I am." + +"You're what you are because of what a man did to you," Laura said +vehemently. She rose unsteadily from the tub and reached for the towel +Marilyn handed her. "I can't condemn anyone who's suffered what I +suffered today. You're the only friend I have in this city. How can I +condemn you for anything?" + +"Would you like to stay with me?" Marilyn asked. "I told you, I'm +looking for a roommate." + +"Wouldn't I be in your way?" + +"You mean, while I was doing business?" Marilyn smiled wanly. "I never +bring customers here. We go to hotel rooms. It's safer all around, that +way." + +"If it's all right, then--" + +"Of course it's all right." + +Laura smiled. "I'd like to stay here, then." She handed back the towel. +Marilyn gave her a robe, and she put it on, while Marilyn turned down +the covers on one of the beds. Laura got in. + +"I feel a lot better now," she said. + +"You just lie down and rest, anyway," Marilyn told her. "Tomorrow we'll +get you moved over from the Y. Do you have much stuff?" + +"Just one suitcase." + +"Fine. Closet space is a little skimpy here. The rent's fifty-five a +month, by the way. Split two ways it isn't bad at all." Marilyn went to +the mirror and began to freshen her lipstick. "I usually go out there +around two or three in the afternoon, and I come home anywhere from +midnight to dawn, depending on how business is. I try to keep away from +the late-night tricks, because that's when the cops do most of their +picking up. There's some meat in the refrigerator, and soup. You help +yourself to anything you want." + +"Thanks," Laura said. "Should I wait up for you?" + +"You get yourself some rest," Marilyn told her. "Don't worry about me. +See you in the morning, in case you're asleep when I get back." + +She smiled goodbye and left. Laura sat up in bed, struck by the +weirdness of the day. To be raped, then to become the roommate of a +prostitute--no one could say she wasn't living an adventurous life! She +found it hard to think of Marilyn as a streetwalker, though. She looked +so pale and thin, and she was so gentle and sincere. Not at all what +Laura had thought whores were like. + +She thought about what Marilyn had said. _I made up my mind that I +wasn't ever going to lay for a man unless he paid me for it._ So +her prostitution, then, was a form of revenge against the male sex. +She, too, had been raped of her virginity--and she had devised a way +of getting even. Make them pay. Laura could understand that kind of +thinking. Right now, she was filled with hatred, not only for McCarten +but for all men. For she suspected that, deep down, they were all the +same. Some men actually raped, others only yearned to. But all of them +saw women as receptacles for their lusts, not as human beings. + +_I could become a streetwalker too_, Laura thought suddenly. _Instead +of going into show business._ + +The thought had popped into her mind just as unexpectedly as, earlier, +the notion of suicide had. And, though it was just as foreign to the +Laura Haynes of yesterday as suicide was, she found herself giving +the idea serious consideration now. Stunned at what she was thinking, +she put her hands to her face. _What's happening to me? In one day my +entire personality is changed. Room with whores, consider becoming one +myself--_ + +But the idea preyed on her, hard as she tried to drive it from her +mind. She rose, wandered around the apartment, looking at Marilyn's +meager possessions. Cheap dishware, shabby dresses, no reading matter +except a frayed little heap of movie magazines and confession stories. +Judging from Marilyn's apartment, she did not lead a very pleasant +life. Laura felt saddened at the pitiable dinginess of everything. + +She picked up one of the confession magazines and began to read it, and +the hours passed quickly. Some of the stories were about girls who had +been raped, or girls who had gone on the streets. Laura found most of +the stories silly, in that they failed to capture the _real_ emotion of +the victim of a rape, the feeling of desolation, of loss, of sadness. +She put the magazines away, finally, and fixed herself a frugal supper. + +After eating, she cleaned up, wondering where Marilyn was and what she +was doing. She read a while longer, then tuned in some dance music on +the radio, and finally, about ten o'clock, got back into bed and turned +off the lights. + +She found sleep impossible. She closed her eyes and lay perfectly +still, hoping for sleep to overtake her, but she remained awake though +drowsy. Some time later that night, she was aware of the door opening, +of Marilyn tiptoeing in. Marilyn undressed, taking care not to make +any noise, and went into the bathroom. Laura heard the water running, +and it continued to run for what seemed like half an hour, as though +Marilyn were trying to scrub herself absolutely clean of the evening's +contamination. + +When she came out of the bathroom at last, Laura looked up and said, +"How was you evening?" + +"You up? I'm sorry if I woke you." + +"You didn't. I can't fall asleep." + +"Wasn't much of an evening," Marilyn said tiredly. "Four tricks. Twenty +bucks." + +"What time is it?" + +"Half past one." Marilyn sighed. She stood nude in the middle of the +floor, hanging up her clothes. Her body was thin and scrawny, with +small breasts and flat buttocks. Turning, she said, "I envy you, Laura. +If I had a figure like yours I wouldn't be scraping along on five-buck +tricks. I'd be a big-league call-girl at a hundred bucks a night." She +got into bed. "I've got some sleeping pills if you're really having +trouble falling asleep." + +"No, no thanks. Good night, Marilyn." + +"Good night," Marilyn said. + + + + + _CHAPTER THREE_ + + +Sleep finally came, what seemed like hours later. When Laura woke, it +was only a little past nine. Her head throbbed; her loins were swollen +and hurt. Marilyn was still asleep. Laura quietly drew a bath for +herself, and spent half an hour soaking in a hot tub. + +She felt better after the bath. Marilyn was beginning to stir by the +time Laura came out, and she was fully awake by the time Laura was +dressed. Marilyn prepared a light breakfast for them, and then they +went out. It was a warmer day than yesterday, fresh and clear and +springy. The two girls walked down Broadway to Fiftieth, turned west, +and headed for the Y. + +Laura stopped off at the desk. The matron eyed her suspiciously, +because she had been out all night. + +"I'm checking out," Laura said. "I've found a roommate, Miss Rivers +here." + +"Very well," the fat, dowdy woman said coolly. "What time will you be +out of your room, Miss Haynes?" + +"As soon as I can get packed. Half an hour at the most." + +"I'll make up your bill." She turned and snaked a fleshy hand into the +row of mailboxes behind the desk. "There was a call for you yesterday +afternoon, and another one last night. No one knew where to reach you, +so we took down the phone numbers." + +Laura accepted the slip and looked at it in puzzlement. It told her +that Mr. McCarten had called at three o'clock, and Mr. Spinelli had +called at half past seven. Laura frowned. Why would McCarten phone her? +To apologize for his brutality, perhaps. But he didn't seem like the +kind who would worry much about apologies. And who was Spinelli? The +name meant nothing to Laura, and the phone number, a Plaza one, rang +no bells. Shrugging, she filed the paper away in her purse and headed +toward the elevator with Marilyn. + +"Who were the calls from?" Marilyn asked. + +"The guy who made all the trouble for me yesterday, McCarten. And later +on somebody named Spinelli called. I don't know any Spinellis." + +"Phil Spinelli, maybe?" Marilyn suggested. + +"Who's he?" + +Marilyn laughed. "Not the sort of fellow you usually find making +phone calls to the YWCA, I'm afraid. He's a bigshot racketeer. Dope, +organized vice, stuff like that. Supposed to be a real slick operator." + +"Hardly the kind of phone-call I'd expect to get." + +"Are you going to call him back?" + +"I don't know," Laura said. "I can't imagine who he is or what he +wants. For all I know he _is_ Phil Spinelli." + +"What's so bad about that?" + +"Plenty," Laura said. The elevator stopped at her floor, and they got +out. "I'm just going to forget all about these phone-calls. That's the +safest thing to do. I'm not looking to get into any more trouble." + +It didn't take very long to pack Laura's few belongings and leave. At +Marilyn's insistence, they took a taxi for the eight blocks back to her +place; the suitcase was heavy, and, Marilyn argued, they could afford +to splurge on a fifty-cent taxi ride. + +It was almost noon, now. Laura unpacked while Marilyn, sprawled out on +the bed, devoured page after page of the movie fan magazines. About +one, they had lunch. + +"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Marilyn asked. + +Laura shrugged. "Look for work, I guess. What else is there to do?" + +She had not completely given up the idea of getting into show business. +Getting the classified directory, she made a new list of theatrical +agents in the neighborhood--taking care to select only those whose +listings had display boxes or were in dark type. She wanted nothing +more to do with any one-man agencies. + +She dressed with care, in her best clothes, a tight skirt that outlined +the curves of her hips and buttocks, a clinging blouse against which +her breasts jutted like swollen melons. At two o'clock the girls left, +Marilyn to take her position near the entrance to Central Park, Laura +to make the rounds of the agencies. + +It was a discouraging afternoon for Laura. + +Her first stop was at an agency whose glossy offices took up an entire +floor of a building at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Fifth Street. An equally +glossy receptionist behind a curved marbled counter asked what Laura +wanted and whether she had an appointment. When Laura explained that +she was a novice looking for any sort of singing or dancing work, she +was practically laughed off Fifth Avenue. "This agency handles only +professional talent," she was told curtly. "We don't have any openings +for beginners." + +It was the same story at the next place, two blocks further down. They +demanded to see a list of her credits, and, having none, she had to +leave. The third agency, on 49th Street near Sixth, was less brusque; +she was called in for an interview, was questioned for about ten +minutes, and finally was asked to leave her telephone number. "We'll +call you if anything comes up that looks like a promising slot for +you," they told her solemnly. "You don't have to bother checking with +us at all--we'll get in touch the moment we have anything." + +Laura left smiling bitterly. She might be a hick from the sticks, but +she was clever enough to see through the Don't-call-us-we'll-call-you +routine. It was a smooth way of brushing her off without making +enemies. In this business, you never could tell when a raw novice +blossomed unexpectedly into an important star, and it didn't pay to do +things crudely when you could be tactful about it. + +Brushoff number four was a quickie, though. "Sorry, nothing for +novices," the receptionist said. At number five, it was the same story, +even if she did get another interview first. And at the sixth place on +her list, she was told without enthusiasm that interviews were held +only on Mondays from three to four in the afternoon, and that she +could come back at that time next week if she cared to. + +And then it was five o'clock and doors were beginning to close at +offices all over the city. Laura had worked her way down as far as 43rd +Street and Seventh Avenue. Rush hour was under way, and the streets +were full of people streaming into the subways. A northbound bus +passed, crammed to the bursting point. Her legs were aching, but she +turned around and began to walk back uptown. The day had grown cold +again, and Laura felt tired, chilled, discouraged. McCarten had been +right: the other agencies were not looking for beginners. There was a +vast oversupply of pretty girls who could sing and dance. Girls just +as good-looking as she was, and with a great deal more professional +training and experience, were going without work. Only a momentary +fancy had aroused McCarten's interest in her. + +For a dismal moment she pondered going back to McCarten's office and +asking for the job. After all, he had taken something valuable from +her; she had every right to demand something in return. And, probably, +if he had a job available he would give it to her. He had to have +_that_ much of a conscience at least, she thought. + +But the whole idea was repugnant. She did not want to enter that +shabby, cluttered office again. She did not want to have to look into +those deep, intense, hungry eyes. She did not, above all, want to be +reminded of what McCarten had done to her, or to run the risk of his +doing it again. No, she thought. She would not go to McCarten at all, +not even as a last resort. If she ever got that desperate, there would +always be other alternatives. Return to Kansas. Suicide. Prostitution. +_Anything_, she thought. _Anything would be better than begging that +man to do me a favor._ + +Wearily she plugged on toward 57th Street. It was half past five by the +time she reached the third floor of the dingy little rooming-house. She +took out the duplicate key Marilyn had given her that morning and let +herself into the little apartment. + +She got out of her clothes, hanging them up with care, and filled the +bathtub with hot water. For twenty minutes she soaked her aching feet. +Getting out, she caught sight of herself in the cracked full-view +mirror along the back of the bathroom door. + +_Marilyn's right_, she thought. _With my figure I could go places._ + +She admired herself for a moment: the twin peaks of her bosom, high +and firm, the nipples small and flawless in their little fields of +dark red skin; the flat but yet feminine softness of her belly; the +sleek firmness of her thighs; the satiny globes of her buttocks. It +was a lush body, a magnificently-endowed body. Nature had been good +to her. Her breasts were not scrawny, like Marilyn's, nor did they +hang pendulously the way they did on some women. They rose straight +upward and outward, needing only the barest minimum of support. Her +high cheekbones, strong jaw, and finely sculpted nose gave her face an +aristocratic look that belied her farmland birth. + +She wondered about the phone-call from the mysterious Mr. Spinelli. +Suppose it _was_ Phil Spinelli, she speculated. No matter how a vice +king could have found out about her; just suppose. Perhaps he could +offer her the wealth and affluence she yearned for. What difference did +it make if you got paid $95 a week for letting men look at your body on +stage, or $500 a week for letting men slake their desires on your body? +Plenty of girls sold themselves for less. Here was poor thin Marilyn, +creeping along hoping to turn four or five $5 tricks a night. While a +call-girl could claim vast sums, if only she had the sort of sleek, +elegant body that a man might pay fabulously to possess. + +_A body like mine, Laura thought._ + +She left the bathroom and curled up on the bed with a towel around her +body, and gave the matter some hard thought. Oh, she had heard plenty +of things from her grandparents about sin, and the pastor had thundered +in church every Sunday morning. But Kansas and Kansas morality seemed +ten thousand miles away right now. She was in New York. And New York +was very different from Kansas. + +_What do I want out of life?_ she wondered. + +_Happiness_, she answered herself. And happiness meant mink coats +and trips to Paris and lovely clothes and a fine home and a long, +shiny limousine. Happiness meant handsome men and dim candlelight and +champagne. + +Marilyn Rivers wasn't happy. Marilyn was having revenge against men, +but it was a petty revenge, a five-dollar-a-trick revenge. How much +finer it would be to grow wealthy and soft at the expense of male lust. +Why wring $5 from them when other men will pay $500? + +Laura laughed. She had all but convinced herself to sign up for the +nearest call-girl syndicate, but she had built an entire lacy tower +out of nothing at all. Someone named Spinelli had called her. Perhaps +he was an encyclopedia salesman; perhaps he wanted to sell her dance +lessons. And she had assumed immediately that he was _Phil_ Spinelli, +the vice overlord, and that he was eager to sign her up for his chain +of high-priced girls. _How silly can you get?_ Laura asked herself. +_When you start building plans out of daydreams, you know you're going +too far._ + +She opened a few cans and fixed a light dinner for herself. This was +a lonely life, she thought, with her roommate out on the streets all +afternoon and evening. It meant she would always be eating dinner by +herself, spending the evening alone. She was grateful to Marilyn for +having taken her in, but, still, she wished she didn't have to stay +by herself all evening in this drafty little room. With eight million +other people in New York, it was terrible to have only one friend. + +After dinner, Laura went down. She strolled around 57th Street, going +eastward. There was a concert at Carnegie Hall that night, and Laura +paused, watching in envy as the Rolls-Royces and the long black +Cadillacs pulled up in front, as the gleaming men and women in their +tuxedos and mink wraps got out and disappeared into the concert hall. +What a wonderful life it must be, she thought, to be able to drive +up to Carnegie Hall and stroll in and take your seat in the row of +boxes! Laura had been to only one concert in her life, once on a visit +to Topeka, and that had been tremendously exciting. How much more +exciting it must be, she imagined, to sit in Carnegie Hall listening to +the New York Philharmonic or the Boston Symphony or one of the other +famous orchestras, with famous people sitting all around. + +She walked on, down 57th Street, past the fancy store-windows, still +lit, with their dazzling displays of china and imported silver and +furs and rare books and furniture. Each window was a peephole to an +alien universe, for Laura--the universe of money, of elegance, of fine +things. She wanted to enter that universe. Suddenly, that night, as +she stared into the glowing shops of 57th Street, she felt a powerful +thrust of ambition; _I must have these things_, she thought. _Give me a +mink coat and a new dress and you couldn't tell me from the prettiest +socialite in Carnegie Hall. And I want to be on top! I want to have +things!_ + +She walked down 57th Street as far as Madison Avenue, then turned +around and came back along the other side of the street. The concert +had started, by that time, and the only people in front of Carnegie +Hall were a few doormen, a couple of waiting chauffeurs, and a wizened +little beggar playing a screechy violin. Laura dropped a dime in his +cup, and he thanked her without missing a note. + +_There you are_, she thought. _Some people play in the Philharmonic, +others stand outside and cadge dimes. You make your own chances. And if +you're lucky, you get into the diamond horseshoe. If you're not, you +end up out in the cold, like Marilyn, like this little fiddle-player._ + +There was a movie-theater next to the concert hall. It was showing a +British comedy; Laura decided it was as good a way of killing time as +any, so she went in. The ticket cost $1.80, which was three times as +much as it cost to see a double feature back home. She realized, as she +paid for the ticket, that she was running low on cash. Her savings, +before paying the train fare from Kansas, had amounted to less than a +thousand dollars. Now she had only a few hundred left. If she didn't +find work soon, she'd be forced to borrow from Marilyn, or to wire home +for cash. Neither idea appealed to her. + +It was half past eleven when Laura returned home. Marilyn had not yet +come in. Laura washed up, got into bed, turned on the lamp, and read, +getting deeply absorbed in Marilyn's magazines. At quarter after one +Marilyn came in, looking tired and disheveled. + +"How'd it go tonight?" Laura asked. + +"Five tricks--no, six. Thirty bucks. God, am I tired! You get a job?" + +"Not even a nibble," Laura said. Briefly, she told Marilyn how agency +after agency had brushed her off with greater or lesser degrees of tact. + +"What are you going to do? Keep trying?" + +Laura shrugged. "It's like batting my head against a stone wall. I +could keep going around to agency after agency and get nowhere." + +"You could get some other kind of job." + +"What kind? I can't type, I don't know short-hand, I don't know how to +operate a switchboard--" + +"You could be taught. It doesn't take long to learn how to run a +switchboard," Marilyn said, peeling off her clothes and heading for +the bathroom. "I bet a lot of companies would be glad to have a +receptionist who looks as good as you do." + +"Maybe," Laura said wearily. "I'll give it a try tomorrow." + +After breakfast the next day, she left Marilyn and went out to pick +up a copy of the _New York Times_. Taking a seat on a bench along +the southern border of Central Park, she looked over the _Help +Wanted--Female_ section of the classified ads. + +There were plenty of jobs available, that was certain. But a lot of +them required experience of one sort or another--typing, short-hand, +professional knowledge. Laura eliminated them at once. + +The others were almost all offered through employment agencies, which +meant that the first week's salary would go to the agency. And the +salaries were nothing fantastic, either. Laura circled some of the ads. +_Receptionist-Monitor Board, No Typing, Appearance Important. $65. Gal +Friday to Interior Decorator, no exp., Mostly Reception, $70. Personnel +Trainees, no exp., attractive type, $75._ + +Plenty of jobs--but, probably, plenty of people applying. And the +salaries weren't great by any means. The best Laura could find for a +trainee or inexperienced girl was $80 to $90 a week. Most of the jobs +offered were in the $60-$75 range. + +$75 a week was $15 a day, before taxes. Even on her poorest days, +Marilyn took in at least that much, and paid no taxes on it. True, it +was sordid work, but at least her time would be her own, she could +take a day off whenever she pleased, and there was the chance of much +greater income on any given day. + +_No_, she thought. _Don't slide straight into whoredom, Laura. Look +for a decent job first._ + +_Times_ in hand, and without much enthusiasm, Laura began to make the +rounds of the employment agencies. At the first three she went to, the +jobs advertised had already been filled, and dozens of other girls +turned away. The fourth place was impressed with her good looks, and +sent her across town to apply for a receptionist's job. But three other +girls had already been interviewed, and all of them knew how to type. +Laura got a "Sorry--we'd like to use you, but the other girls have +better qualifications." + +The day dragged on. It was the same story everywhere. + +Everyone wanted a good-looking girl on their job. But what they didn't +want was an utter green-horn just fresh from a Kansas farm. They wanted +a girl who could type, who knew her way around a switchboard, who was +familiar with New York. + +Laura didn't qualify. + +From agency to agency, interview to interview, until her feet throbbed +mercilessly. Twelve o'clock, one o'clock, two o'clock, three. Always +other girls applying for the job, and always the other girls were +better qualified than she was. + +"How about domestic service?" one agency suggested. "Midtown hotel +looking for attractive white chambermaids. $42.50 a week plus tips." + +"No thanks," Laura said, repressing a shudder. Better no work at all +than work like that. + +Another place had a page-girl job for her. $52 a week, first week's +salary to the agency. In desperation, Laura let herself be sent over +for an interview, but the personnel manager turned her down. "You're +too imposing for the job, dear. What we have in mind is a high-school +type, not a glamor queen. Sorry." + +Sorry. + +Sorry. + +_Sorry._ + +Everyone apologized. McCarten was sorry; the theatrical agencies on +Fifth Avenue were sorry; the employment agencies were sorry; personnel +managers were sorry. + +You couldn't eat sorrow. You couldn't spend it. You couldn't even feel +happy about it. Everyone was sorry, and you were sorry too. + +At half past five Laura gave up, dumped the _Times_ in an ashcan, and +headed home. It had been another wasted day. Her legs hurt fiercely, +she was hollow inside, and she had accomplished nothing. + +In the apartment, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her loins no +longer ached from the rape, and she told herself that she was starting +to forget about it. She was no longer a virgin; what of it? She looked +no different. Her face had not changed. She looked tired, now, but +otherwise there was no difference. A man's body had entered her body +and had withdrawn. She was a woman now instead of a girl. But the fact +made no difference. No difference at all, except that now she no longer +had to worry about guarding that meaningless thing, her virginity. + +She fixed dinner. Afterward, while waiting for Marilyn to come home, +she considered the alternatives. + +Suicide was silly, a coward's way out. And going back to Kansas was an +admission of utter defeat. + +What else was there? Calling McCarten? That was defeat, too. Taking +one of the $42.50 jobs? That was worse than defeat; it was humiliation. +Going to secretarial school? A waste of time, she thought. She would +have to study for six or ten weeks to become qualified to take a +miserable $60-a-week job. You didn't get to wear minks on $60 a week. +You didn't sit in a box at Carnegie Hall. + +_With your body, you can go places_, Marilyn had said. _Well, why not? +Why not?_ + +_Why not?_ + +Marilyn came home at two o'clock, with earnings of thirty-five dollars. +Laura was still up. + +"You get a job?" Marilyn asked. + +"Nope." + +"Not even a near miss?" + +"There wasn't anything," Laura said. She smiled. "I'm not licked, +though. I've made up my mind about what I'm going to do. And you can +help me, if you want to." + +"Just tell me what I have to do, honey, and I'll help you every bit I +can." + +Laura's smile was bitter. "I've decided to go on the street, Marilyn. +Teach me how to be a whore." + + + + + _CHAPTER FOUR_ + + +The hotel was on 56th Street just off Seventh Avenue. It had obviously +seen better days. It was a big massive nineteenth-century structure, +with gargoyles and everything. But the marquee was stained and +tattered, and no doorman waited in front. Laura walked in. It was +just as Marilyn had described it: a dump. Even the potted palms were +drooping and frayed. The lights were dim, sputtering fluorescents. A +couple of sloppy-looking bellhops lounged near the elevator. The desk +clerk had a copy of the _Daily Mirror_ spread out in front of him, and +he was doing the crossword puzzle. + +Laura felt a tight band of fear across her belly. She remembered with +tension what Marilyn had told her in explaining the pitch. _Hotels +don't like to rent rooms to unescorted girls without luggage, because +they know that nine times out of nine and a half the girl is a prostie. +They'll rent to you, but if you don't grease them up they'll give you a +hard time first._ + +She moistened her lips as she waited for the desk clerk to look up from +his crossword puzzle. He stared at her out of faded, red-rimmed eyes. + +"Yes?" + +"I'm looking for a room," she said. She opened her hand and let the +crumpled five-dollar bill tumble out. It landed on the open newspaper. +Casually, the desk clerk covered it with his palm, smiling faintly. + +"A single?" he asked. + +"That's right. For--for tonight." + +She waited hesitantly. The fiver was out of sight, now. All the clerk +had to do was shake his head and say the hotel was filled up, and he +was five bucks ahead for not very much effort. Laura added after a +moment, "I'm a friend of Mary Ryan." That was the name Marilyn used +when she signed the register here; Marilyn had told her to mention it +to the clerk. + +The clerk nodded. "Okay. We've got a room. Three-fifty okay?" + +"Fine," Laura said in a choked voice. _Now I'm in business_, she +thought. + +"We usually prefer it in advance when the party doesn't have any +luggage," said the desk clerk blandly. "Do you want to see the room +first?" + +"That's all right. I'll take it anyway." + +"As you wish, ma'am. Would you sign here?" + +He shoved the register toward her. Laura signed in as Lois Harper, +giving a fictitious Brooklyn address. Then she counted out three +singles and two quarters, and shoved them across the counter. The clerk +scribbled a receipt for her and handed her the key. + +"Room 804," he said. "The bellhop will take you up if you want a look." + +"Thanks," Laura said. She took the key and walked toward the elevator. +The bellhop, a boy of about eighteen, got in and clanged the wire cage +shut. Creakily, the elevator began to ascend. + +"You're new, aren't you?" the bellhop said. + +"I don't know what you mean." + +"I mean, you've never been around here before. We don't get classy ones +like you, much." + +Laura's face reddened. She looked at the floor. "Just show me to my +room," she said. + +The elevator halted jerkily on the eighth floor. The bellhop led her +down the dark corridor, with its threadbare carpeting, to a room near +the end of the hall. Taking the key from her, he opened the door. She +followed him in. Grinning, he put his arms around her and tried to +kiss her. Laura's first impulse was to slap him. But more advice of +Marilyn's came to mind. _The bellhop will probably fool around. They +always try to grab a free feel. Let them have it, because otherwise +they could make big trouble for you. A nasty bellhop could tip off the +cops and get you raided. But don't let them get more from you than a +feel, Laura. You start giving out tricks on the house and pretty soon +you're everybody's doormat._ + +She let the bellboy kiss her and squeeze her breasts. He pressed his +body against hers, until she quickly eased away. + +"That's enough," she said. + +"Let's have some fun, baby!" + +"You've had all I plan to give," she said. She nudged him toward the +door. He left reluctantly but without putting up much of a fuss, as +though it was all part of the rules for the bellhop to do a little +smooching but then to leave. + +Laura surveyed the room. + +It was not much. There was a wide bed--one of the reasons Marilyn +preferred this hotel was that the single rooms came with wide beds--and +half a dozen clean towels were draped over the iron bedstead. There was +a rickety dresser, a yellowing mirror, an ugly lamp, a small table. The +room had its own sink and toilet bowl, but no bath or shower. Instead +of venetian blinds, there was a greasy-looking windowshade. The room +was painted a depressing dull green, and didn't seem to have been +painted within the last ten years. It was a cheerless, bleak room. But +it only cost $3.50 a night. + +Laura locked up and rode downstairs, and walked briskly back to Central +Park South. According to Marilyn, the block running along the bottom +of Central Park, 59th Street between Columbus Circle and Fifth Avenue, +was one of the best places in the city for streetwalkers. Usually the +cops didn't bother you, especially if you were well-dressed and quiet, +and since it was the street bordering a park you didn't run the risk +of being complained about by shopkeepers whose storefronts you might +be sullying. Marilyn had told her, _If a cop comes over and starts +trouble, just say you're waiting for your boyfriend. Stick around +another ten minutes, then walk away. They can't arrest you unless they +actually catch you in the act. Loitering isn't enough to stand up in +court. They have to follow you to your hotel room and break in on you +and the john you've picked up._ + +Marilyn's area was near the Columbus Circle entrance to the park. +At her advice, Laura moved further east, on the other side of Sixth +Avenue. That way they wouldn't be competing with each other, and, +besides, more high-money men were likely to come walking from east to +west along 59th than from west to east. + +There was no sign of Marilyn. Laura wondered if she had a client. She +walked past Marilyn's post, heading toward Sixth Avenue. The time was +ten minutes to three; the weather was warm, the sky very blue. Laura +leaned up against the low wall that rimmed the park, and began to wait. + +Marilyn had been a little surprised, the night before, when Laura had +announced her decision. At first she had tried to discourage Laura from +sharing her profession; then, seeing that Laura was determined to go +on the streets at least once, Marilyn had set about to instruct her. +They had been up half the night, the teacher and the willing pupil, as +Marilyn poured out all the benefits of her three years' experience. + +Laura's heart raced furiously now. _If they only could know about me +now back in Kansas_, she thought. _They'd have fits if they knew what +line of work pure and lovely Laura Haynes has gone into._ + +Although she was not fond of smoking, she lit a cigarette now to +mask her nervousness. She was dressed in her smartest clothes--a tan +trenchcoat over a tight cashmere sweater and a crisp skirt. She had the +trenchcoat dangle loosely from her shoulders, revealing the eye-opening +thrust of her bosom and the trim lines of her waist and hips. To a +casual passer-by, she might have been some Fifth Avenue beauty waiting +for her beau. + +Twenty minutes went by. A number of men looked at her with keen +interest, but moved on without stopping to speak to her. _Maybe I'm +too chic to look like a streetwalker_, she thought. _Most of them have +a kind of bedraggled look that tells a man they're available. But +maybe men are afraid they'll get slapped in the face if they try to +proposition me._ + +When it was nearly four o'clock, and she had been on her territory +almost an hour without any sign of a client, she came close to giving +the whole thing up. She told herself, though, that Marilyn spent nine +or ten hours a day to find four or five clients; presumably a girl +as attractive as Laura would do better business, but, still, she +hadn't expected to be ignored this long. She felt ambivalent about the +situation: she wanted to be picked up, yet at the same time she wanted +_not_ to be picked up. She would have preferred to retain her virtue. +On the other hand, she had already spent $3.50 in rent and $5 in +bribery to get a hotel room. Marilyn had told her to charge $10, but, +even if she got a client at that rate, she would have only $1.50 to +show for her first encounter. With a fixed overhead of $8 or $10 a day +for a hotel room, it was necessary to have several clients, at least, +to come out ahead. + +Laura went tense. One man, who had already gone past her twice, was +coming back a third time--and now he was walking toward her! He had +come from the Fifth Avenue direction, had eyed her carefully, and had +gone on walking toward Columbus Circle. Then, a few moments later, he +had returned, as though for a second look. He had gone on to Fifth, +again. And now he was back, and cutting away from the sidewalk to walk +over to her. + +Her heart thundered. _Don't freeze up_, she thought. _Don't muff it._ + +He was about forty, she thought, and well-dressed. Of middle height, no +hat, balding slightly, dark clipped mustache. Not bad-looking. Slightly +heavy-set. A big ring on the middle finger of his left hand. + +He was holding out an unlit cigarette. In a suave voice he said, +"Pardon me, Miss. My lighter doesn't seem to be working. Could I +trouble you for a light?" + +"No trouble at all," Laura said, making her voice husky. She stood up, +opened her handbag, took out a matchbook, struck one for him. He puffed +busily for a moment. + +"Thanks," he said, when the cigarette was lit. He hesitated a moment, +as though still trying to size her up. She wondered numbly whether it +would all fizzle, whether he would now puff on his cigarette and stroll +away. But he said at length, "Maybe you could do me one more favor. I'm +looking for some congenial companionship for the next half hour or so. +Are you free, or are you waiting for somebody here?" + +"I'm waiting," Laura said, as Marilyn had instructed her. "But it +doesn't look like the fellow is going to show up, so to the deuce with +him." She smiled warmly. "My name's Lois. I've got a place a couple of +blocks from here, if that's what you're interested in." + +He smiled. The formalities were over. It was a straight business +transaction now. "Interested? Yes, I'd say I was. Depends, though, on +what it's likely to cost me." + +"Ten," she said. + +"For the next half hour?" + +"That's right. Without any specialties." The cold words rolled glibly +off her tongue. + +He eyed her, looking her over from head to toe. "Ten is a little higher +than some charge, Lois." + +She smiled urbanely. "Ten is the price." + +He hesitated only a moment. "Okay. Ten it is. Take me to your +love-nest." + +She took the arm that he extended, and they began to walk toward +Seventh Avenue. Laura was so nervous she nearly tripped on her high +heels. Even though she had rehearsed her little speech all morning, she +was surprised that she had carried it off so coolly. She was surprised, +too, at the way the conversation had changed from casual interchange to +a seamy negotiation, almost of its own accord. + +They crossed 59th and headed down Seventh Avenue toward the hotel. They +chatted about the weather. Laura kept up a steady flow of light talk. +Marilyn's advice went round and round in her head. _Never try to find +out anything about them. They'll think you're prying, and anyway you +don't need to know. Always collect from them in advance. Always let +them know that you're taking them for a single trick, and make sure +they know that specialty items command a higher price. And once you get +your clothes off, get it over with as quick as you can. The faster you +can get back out on the street, the sooner you'll be turning your next +trick._ + +They reached the hotel. The desk clerk did not look up as Laura and +her "friend" walked past him. The bellhop on duty was a different one +from the one who had brought Laura to her room before. He kept complete +decorum as he ushered them into the elevator. + +The client seemed a little surprised at the shabbiness of the hotel, +but he said nothing. The elevator stopped at eight. Laura led him down +the hall to the room, and opened the door. As she stepped inside, +seeing in one glance the towels on the iron bedstead, the little +nightstand, the dingy walls, she had a sensation very much like +vertigo. She knew that she was standing on the brink, and the moment +she let this man into the room with her and closed the door she would +begin the long descent into the abyss. + +She closed the door and flipped the catch on the lock, as Marilyn had +specified. Now not even a management key could open the door. + +She switched on the light and smiled bravely at the man. "I'd like the +fee now, please. You can put it on the dresser." + +"Right." + +He slipped a bill out of his wallet while Laura undressed. Marilyn's +words again were in her mind: _If they look well-heeled, peel to the +buff. You may get a little extra that way. Otherwise don't bother. Get +back on the street as fast as you can._ + +She draped her coat over a chair, unzipped her skirt, and stepped out +of it. She peeled the tight sweater off next. After just an instant of +hesitation, she unsnapped her bra. She heard her client's sharp little +indrawn hiss of pleasure and surprise as he saw that the full, ripe +mounds of her breasts were all genuine. She removed her half-slip next, +and rolled her panties down over her hips. Now she wore nothing but +garter-belt and stockings. She tried to be casual about her nudity. +As she motioned to remove the stockings, he said in a strained voice, +"Leave them on, please. I rather like it that way." + +He had removed his jacket and his trousers. She took a quick look at +his body. His legs were hairy, and surprisingly lean, considering the +stockiness of his upper body. + +_Make sure they wear protection_, Marilyn had warned. Marilyn had +given her a little packet just in case, but the client had provided his +own, Laura saw. + +She mounted the bed, lying on her back looking up at the ceiling. + +_God help me_, she thought. _There's no turning back now._ + +She felt his weight above her. His hands touched her breasts, squeezing +them gently, toying with the stiff little nipples. He made no attempt +to kiss her. He roamed her body with his fingers, and she felt herself +warming under his touch. He didn't seem to be in any hurry. _Some of +them may try to be regular romeos_, had been Marilyn's warning. _Don't +let them spend hours on preliminaries. Get yourself ready, and do it. +You're in this for cash, not for kicks._ + +She locked her legs around him, and he responded, and their bodies +joined. She closed her eyes and began to move rhythmically. It had not +been painful, as it had been with McCarten. She felt a faint sensuous +stirring in the pit of her stomach, and wished dimly, sadly, that she +could be doing this out of love and not out of callous cynicism. Every +movement brought a soft tingling of pleasure. She realized that she +could almost be enjoying what she was doing. + +But Marilyn had warned her to bring matters to a swift culmination. +Laura began to gasp, counterfeiting the crisis of passion. Sweat broke +out all over her, and she closed her eyes tightly, continuing to thrust +her body, and suddenly she cried out in counterfeit ecstacy and the man +shuddered and gave a little moan, and his body shook convulsively and +it was all over. + +He did not want to get up, or even to leave her body. She waited a +minute, then said, "It's all over." + +"Okay. Okay." + +"You can stay another round, if you like," she told him. "Same price." +_Always be a good salesman_, Marilyn said. + +"No," he muttered, getting up from her. "I'll leave now." The suaveness +seemed to be gone. His lust satisfied, he hardly looked at her. He took +one of the towels and washed himself, and then, quickly, he dressed. He +was in a hurry now. + +Laura remained on the bed, watching his hasty exit. _He got what he +came for_, she thought. _Now he wants to scram before the hotel gets +raided._ + +He muttered a goodbye and tried to open the door. But he had trouble +with the catch; Laura had to get up and let him out. He paused before +going, taking one last look at the ripe glory of her breasts and +buttocks, and then he was gone. Laura shut the door behind him and +locked it. + +There was a ten-dollar bill on the dresser. She put it in her billfold. +Her watch said twenty minutes to five. So she had given him a little +over half an hour, and now she had a profit on the day of $1.50, with +hours still to go. Wearily, she walked over to the mirror. _Take a good +look_, she thought. _Take a look at the face of a whore, Laura._ + +She felt tired and embittered. There was a dull ache in her loins, the +throb of unfulfilled desire. Marilyn had warned her of that. The men +got you all worked up, but there was no satisfaction. + +She went over to the sink and washed herself carefully, and then she +got dressed. In the dim light of the lamp, the room was unimaginably +gloomy. She felt terribly depressed. The transaction was completed. She +had sold herself to a middle-aged stranger; he had ploughed his furrow +and had paid and was gone. + +She pulled the bra cups over her breasts and fastened the snap. _Is +this what I want?_ she asked. _An ugly hotel room and a few minutes of +sweaty grunting? I can do better than this, I don't have to depend on +five or ten bucks a lay. As long as I'm selling myself, I ought to get +a good price for the merchandise._ + +Dressed, she locked the door and rang for the elevator. _This is +minor-league stuff_, she thought. _But it's valuable experience. I +ought to be able to better myself soon, when I've been around a little +more._ + +The commitment was made. She felt neither joyous nor sad about it. This +was her life, now--and, if she played her cards right, she would wind +up living a plush life. Everyone has to start at the bottom. + +Outside, it was growing dark rapidly. Laura walked at a brisk pace back +to her post near Sixth Avenue, and waited for the next customer to come +along. + + + + + _CHAPTER FIVE_ + + +Laura turned her second trick about forty minutes later. He was a tall, +sharp-faced man in his late thirties, who talked with a pronounced +Southern drawl and seemed very embarrassed about the whole thing. After +him, business slowed down. At quarter to seven she went into a cafe +opposite the Coliseum and had a quick supper. By twenty after, she +was back on her post again. It was getting quite chilly, now. Marilyn +had said that the outdoor work was done only in the spring and summer +and early fall; the rest of the year, they hung out in the many bars +in the neighborhood. Bar work was easier in many ways, but also less +profitable, since you usually had to give the bartender or proprietor +a cut of your takings if you wanted to be allowed to solicit on his +premises. + +Trick number three turned up at half past eight--a short, +round-bottomed man of perhaps forty-five. He had a strong body odor, +and he seemed more interested in playing with Laura's breasts than in +making love with her, but she finally managed to get rid of him. Now +she had taken in thirty dollars; she was $21.50 ahead on the day, after +about five hours' work. She decided to quit after one more trick, since +it was getting cold. + +The trick came along. Jovial, well-dressed, fairly high. He wanted to +take Laura for a few drinks first, but she kept her mind on business +instead. When he asked about the price, she upped it to fifteen, +figuring she could always let herself be bargained-down. He looked like +a free spender, though, and he was. Fifteen was okay with him. They +went to the hotel. + +At quarter to ten, Laura returned to the little room she shared with +Marilyn. She felt tired and filthy all over; the sweat of four men had +mingled with her own, and four men's bodies had pressed down heavily on +hers. She took her jacket off, stripped off her clothes quickly. Every +square inch of her body seemed to itch. She went into the bathroom and +turned the hot water on. She wished Marilyn had a shower. She wanted to +have the hot water cascading down on her from above, washing away the +day's physical contact. + +But there was no shower, only the tub. She ran the water in, as hot as +she could stand it, and scrubbed hard, until her skin gleamed. She knew +now why Marilyn always spent an hour in the tub after coming home from +a day's work. It wasn't to prevent picking up any disease as much as it +was to wash away the touch of the men who had bought her body that day. + +When she was through soaking, she towelled herself vigorously dry. She +felt cleaner, but there was still a residue of discomfort. + +_Maybe you never can wash the feeling away_, she thought. _Not even +if you take a bath in concentrated sulphuric acid. It stays with you, +soaking into your bones, and you can't ever get rid of it._ + +And there was the dull throbbing of frustration in her loins, too, the +cost of being sexually aroused four times without a single fulfillment. +She felt the discomfort up through her entire body. Her nipples were +hard and painful. Her thighs ached. + +She finished drying off and went into the bedroom, planning to read for +a while and then perhaps doze off until Marilyn came home. But she was +surprised to find the door opening, and Marilyn coming in. Marilyn had +a paper bag under one arm. + +"You're back early," Laura said. "It isn't even eleven o'clock yet." + +"I know. But I figured you'd come in by now, and I wanted to get back +here and spend some time with you. What sort of day did you have?" + +"Four tricks," Laura said with a touch of pride. "Three tens and a +fifteen." + +"Wow! You take to it like a natural." + +"Thanks," Laura said ironically. "How'd you manage today?" + +Marilyn shrugged. "Four tricks. Twenty bucks. If I had your figure, I +could charge ten and get away with it. But I don't, so I can't. How do +you feel?" + +"Okay, I suppose." + +"I mean, you aren't all keyed up? They heat you up, and then they don't +finish what they've started, and it leaves you all lousy inside. Or +didn't that happen to you?" + +"It did," Laura said. "I took a hot bath, but it didn't help much." + +"There are ways of helping it," Marilyn said. "Let me get washed up and +I'll show you." She began to get out of her clothes. + +"What's in the paper bag?" Laura asked. "Groceries?" + +"Sort of," Marilyn laughed. "Take a look." + +Laura opened the bag. Inside was a fifth of Scotch. "Whiskey!" she said. + +"I figured we'd have a little party. To sort of celebrate your debut. +It's a kind of special occasion, after all." + +Marilyn finished undressing and went into the bathroom, leaving the +door open. While she bathed, she bombarded Laura with questions about +the way her day had gone. She wanted to know what sort of johns she had +picked up, whether they had given her any trouble, whether the hotel +people had been sassy, whether there had been any kind of interference +from the police. Laura found that talking about the day in this manner +eased some of the festering guilt within her. It reduced the whole +day's activities to a mere professional level. They could just as well +be two secretaries or two receptionists talking shop. + +Pink and glowing, Marilyn came out of the bathroom and opened the +Scotch. "How do you want yours, honey? On the rocks, neat, or with mix?" + +"Mixed, I guess." + +"There's ginger ale in the fridge. Dig it out while I'm opening the +bottle. Get the icecube tray too, while you're at it." + +Laura complied. When she had finally succeeded in wrestling the +frozen-in icecube tray out of the miniature frigidaire, she saw that +Marilyn had already poured healthy quantities of liquor into two +drinking-glasses. Almost a third of each glass was filled with whiskey. +Marilyn added two icecubes to each drink, and filled Laura's the rest +of the way with ginger ale. She drank her own on the rocks. + +"Cheers," Marilyn said. + +Laura smiled. "Cheers." + +They clinked glasses gravely and drank. Laura had never been +much of a drinker, and when she did have anything it was usually +bourbon-and-water, sometimes rye-and-ginger. Scotch was new to her. But +she liked the flavor, and she particularly liked the immediate warmth +in her throat and in the pit of her stomach. + +"It was awfully good of you to think of picking up a bottle," Laura +said. "I was getting kind of blue, here all by myself." + +Marilyn nodded. "It's always a little rough, after you've finished your +first day on the street. That's why I knocked off early. To keep you +company here." + +Laura found the drink slipping smoothly down her throat. In no time at +all, nothing but half-melted ice cubes remained in her glass. Marilyn +caught up with her in two quick gulps and poured refills. + +"Not much for me," Laura said. "I'm getting dizzy, I think." + +"What of it? Come on--you only live once." + +But Laura _was_ getting dizzy, very dizzy. She drank the second drink +cautiously. Even so, her head began to buzz a little, and her eyes +would not focus. She leaned back, letting her gown dangle loosely open, +and a glassy smile appeared on her face. So this was what it was like +to be drunk, she thought. It was fun. + +She was vaguely aware that Laura was filling her glass again. She tried +to protest, but the only words that came past her lips were thick, +fuzzy things that probably were unintelligible. Automatically, she +lifted the third drink to her lips. She could make out Marilyn's face +smiling across the table at her, blurred and badly out of focus. + +"Want another?" Marilyn asked some time later. + +"No ... no, please. I want to go to bed." + +"Sure, baby. Sure." Laura stood up and staggered uncertainly, almost +falling. But Marilyn was right next to her, her arm around Laura's +shoulder, and with the strength that seemed so strange in her thin, +wiry body Marilyn managed to hold her up, to carry her across the room +and put her gently down on top of her bed. + +"Let's get the robe off you," Marilyn said. "Easy, now. Just lift your +shoulder." + +Laura complied, and Marilyn took off the robe. Laura saw Marilyn remove +her own robe. And then, to Laura's surprise, Marilyn lay down naked, +not in her own bed, but on Laura's. The two girls were naked, side by +side. Laura frowned, not knowing what to say. + +Marilyn murmured, "I'm going to make you feel real good now, honey. I'm +going to help you relax and get a good night's sleep." + +"What--whatcha gonna do--" + +"Just relax, Laura, just relax." Marilyn's hand was cupping Laura's +breasts. It was almost like a man's hand, Laura thought, nothing soft +and feminine about it. She lay on her side, facing Marilyn, and the +other girl had her hands on both of Laura's breasts, playing now +with the nipples, now squeezing the entire heavy globes with all five +fingers. One of Marilyn's thin knees gently pushed its way between +Laura's thighs. Laura found it was pleasant to have the leg between +hers. She began to move rhythmically, deriving pleasure from each +rubbing motion of her loins over Marilyn's skin. + +Then Marilyn released Laura's breasts and began to move her hands over +every part of Laura's body. Laura smiled. She saw nothing unnatural in +one woman making love to another, at that point. It was simply that all +day both of them had been denied fulfillment, and now, alone with each +other, they could give each other the pleasure that their clients had +denied them all day. + +Laura's lips gently caressed Marilyn's stiff nipples, and her hands +wandered toward the other girl's lean, muscular buttocks. She wriggled +closer to Marilyn, and the two girls embraced, and Laura could feel the +jutting little bones of Marilyn's hips pressing into the softness of +her own thighs. + +Laura began to pant as Marilyn's hands touched the secret places of her +body, stimulating them, exciting them. She reached out for Marilyn, +wanting to do the same. + +"Kiss me," Laura muttered harshly. "Kiss me _there_." + +Marilyn kissed her. "Now you kiss me," Marilyn whispered. Laura did. +"Again," Marilyn said. "Oh, again, again!" + +And then neither of them could control themselves any longer, and they +came together in a tight embrace. + +After the long hours of standing in the street, all the moments +of sweaty exertion beneath the sagging bodies of strange men--all +forgotten now, all blurred by the sweet haze of alcohol and the warmth +of Marilyn's lean body above hers. + +Laura felt her heart pound as though it would rip out of her chest. +Every muscle contracted; she gasped harshly for breath and cried out, +"Oh oh _oh_!" and at the same moment above her Marilyn emitted a low +moaning sound, and then it was finished, and Marilyn clung limply to +Laura like something washed up by the tide, and the two women rested, +letting the fierce tides of passion ebb slowly away. + +The ache in the loins was gone, now, Laura thought. The day's +frustrations were wiped out. + +The very strenuousness of the act had sobered her, had burned the +excess alcohol from her brain, and now, as she lay with all passion +spent, Marilyn's warm flushed body against hers, she reflected that +what they had done was unnatural, a strange act. + +But _was_ it so unnatural, really, she asked herself? + +They were friends. They shared a mutual need for fulfillment. Because +of their profession, they could not get that fulfillment from men. What +more natural thing in the world was there but for them to give that +fulfillment to each other? + +She opened her eyes. Marilyn, smiling, looked into them. + +"Hello, darling." + +"Hello, Marilyn." + +"How do you feel now?" + +"Wonderful." + +"No guilt about it?" + +Laura shrugged. "I don't know. It was like all my troubles being washed +away in one second." + +"You've never done anything like this before, have you?" Marilyn asked. +"I mean, with another woman." + +"No. Never." + +"Then I was the first. That makes me very happy." + +"Do you--have you done much of this?" Laura asked. + +"Practically since I went on the street. It's the only way I can get +any kicks. I pretend the men excite me, but it's never happened, never +once in my life with a man. Only with women." + +Laura closed her eyes. "I feel very sleepy now. Warm and drowsy and +happy." + +"That's the way you should feel, honey. Let's get some sleep, now. See +you in the morning." + +Marilyn's lips gently grazed Laura's. Laura smiled. + +"Goodnight, Marilyn." + +"Goodnight, honey." + +Laura nestled under the covers, against her pillow. The lights went +out, and a moment later she heard Marilyn getting into her bed. Laura +yawned. + +She understood now why Marilyn had been so eager for her as a roommate. +It was more than sheer generosity, more than mere loneliness. Marilyn +had been looking for a lover. Laura frowned. She was not sure she +wanted to settle down this way as a regular habit. Walking the streets +all day for twenty-five or thirty dollars, then coming home and +drinking and making love with another woman.... + +Yet a routine it became, at least for the next three or four days. In +the morning, the girls read, slept, shopped for food. Marilyn had a +bank account with several thousand dollars in it, and she persuaded +Laura to open one as well, and to bank as much of her earnings as she +possibly could, as an emergency fund against illness or pregnancy. In +mid-afternoon, they would go out together to take their positions near +the park. Then, at whatever time they decided to call it a day, they +would return to the apartment. Usually Laura got back first, since she +demanded a higher rate and was more popular with the passers-by. She +would return by eleven and bathe and set up the drinks; by midnight +Marilyn would come in, and after she had tidied herself up they would +have a little party and then go to bed. + +The lovemaking invariably satisfied them both. Laura felt secret pangs +of guilt at these lesbian practices, but she said nothing about them +to Marilyn. She did not like the idea of making love with another +woman, but on the other hand there was always the ache of frustration +in her loins at the end of the day, and after a couple of drinks her +inhibitions disappeared. + +Then, on the fourth day, Marilyn said apropos of nothing at all, "Hey, +did you ever call that Spinelli fellow back?" + +Laura frowned. "Why, no. I forgot all about it." + +"You dope, why'd you do that?" + +"I didn't know any Spinellis." + +Marilyn glowered scornfully. "Suppose it was Phil Spinelli, though? +Maybe he saw you somewhere, and wants to line you up for his syndicate." + +Laura shook her head. "Don't be silly. There are dozens of Spinellis in +New York, and Phil Spinelli doesn't know me from Eve. Besides, it was +probably a mistake, a call for some other girl on my floor. There were +two or three girls with Italian names--" + +"Does it cost you very much to call him?" + +"No, but I feel funny, calling a strange number and asking to speak to +someone I don't even know--" + +"Just suppose it _is_ the bigshot, though!" Marilyn urged. "Christ +almighty, Laura, do you want to spend the rest of your life selling +your ass at ten bucks a throw? A girl with your figure could be making +a mint. I tell you in all truth, I never seen a pair of buttons like +yours on _any_ woman in the trade. So you live up here wasting yourself +on me and on a bunch of cheap ten-buck johns, when you might be a big +syndicate girl--" + +"But how could it be--" + +"_Call_ him," Marilyn insisted. "You never know. Don't sell yourself +short." + +In the end, Marilyn won out. It was unreasonable not to try, at least. +Laura had some trouble finding the scrap of paper on which the number +was written, and for a moment she thought she might have thrown it out. +But at last it turned up, crumpled into a corner of her handbag. She +flattened it out. + +"Maybe it's too early to call," Laura suggested hesitantly. + +"It's eleven in the morning, goof. If he isn't there, you can leave +your number or something." + +She had run out of excuses. She went to the phone and dialed the +number. On the third ring the phone was picked up, and a deep masculine +voice boomed, "Yeah?" + +"Mr. Spinelli?" Laura said weakly. + +"Who's this?" + +"My name is Laura Haynes. I got a message about a week ago from Mr. +Spinelli telling me that he had called, but I lost the number and it +just turned up. Are you Mr. Spinelli?" + +"No. What did you say your name was?" + +"Haynes. Laura Haynes." + +"Hold on, huh?" + +Laura held on. She heard muffled sounds, as though someone's hand were +over the mouthpiece while a discussion went on. + +"What's happening?" Marilyn asked. + +"They're bringing Spinelli to the phone, I guess," Laura said. Her +heart pounded. + +A different voice--smooth, almost oily--said, "Miss Haynes?" + +"That's right." + +"I was wondering why it took you so long to get in touch with me, Miss +Haynes. I was very anxious to hear from you." + +"Oh?" + +"Yes. You've been recommended most highly to me, Miss Haynes. Do you +mind if I call you Laura? And you can call me Phil. I like my friends +to call me by my first name." + +Laura nearly dropped the phone. Nodding frantically to the puzzled +Marilyn, Laura said, "Ah--yes, _Phil_." + +"That's better. Are you free this afternoon for lunch, Laura?" + +"I--could be. But this is all so mysterious--" + +"I'm sorry. But I have a business proposal for you, and it's not +something that can easily be explained over the phone. Shall we make it +a date for lunch in, say an hour and a half?" + + + + + _CHAPTER SIX_ + + +"I'll be damned," Laura muttered in quiet incredulity, as she hung up +the phone. "So you were right after all. It was Phil Spinelli! But +how--where would he find out about me?--" + +"They say he knows everything about everyone, honey. Aren't you glad +you listened to me and called him, now? Christ, I wish _I_ could get +into his syndicate! If I only had your looks--then I wouldn't need to +tramp around in the cold for five bucks a trick." Marilyn shrugged. +"Well, this is your big break. What kind of arrangements did you make +with him?" + +"He's picking me up here at half past twelve." + +"_Here?_ Baby, you better be ready ahead of time, and wait for him out +in front." + +"Why?" + +"Because we don't want Phil Spinelli to know that you live in a dump +like this. His girls have to radiate class, poise, breeding. Which +means you've got to give him the impression right from the start that +you come from the proper side of the tracks." + +"Oh, dear--" + +"Don't worry about it," Marilyn snapped. "Just start getting ready. And +dress like you're having a date with the Duke of Windsor." + +Laura put on her one cocktail dress, a tight blue affair with a scoop +neckline that left bare the creamy upper globes of her breasts. At +Marilyn's suggestion, she put just a dab of perfume in the hollow +between her breasts, and wore a tiny jewelled locket that lay +tantalizingly over the soft, high hills of flesh. She combed her long +auburn hair out and arranged a meticulous coiffure. She brushed her +teeth until they sparkled like pearls. By the time she was finished, +she glistened. No one could possibly tell, merely by looking at her, +that only the day before she had taken part in five squalid acts of +physical lust in a cheap hotel room with flyspecked walls. She looked +more like a radiant Bryn Mawr senior on her way to meet her fiancé. +Marilyn nodded in approval when Laura turned away from the mirror at +last. + +"Tremendous," she enthused. "You'll knock him for a loop. You've got +just what they want--a virginal appearance without the virginity that +goes with it." + +"What sort of man is he, do you know?" + +Marilyn shrugged. "All I know is that he's supposed to be a smooth +operator with lots of dough. Also that he doesn't like to waste time." + +"Do you think he'll want me for--for his syndicate?" + +"You bet. And you know what _that_ means. He'll put you up in a plush +apartment somewhere on the East Side, and every afternoon you'll get a +phone-call telling you where your assignment for the night is, and you +go off to some fancy party or some millionaire's hotel suite and you +earn yourself a hundred bucks." + +Laura shook her head. "But why will men pay so much just for a night in +bed with a woman?" + +"For one thing, because they can afford it. For another, because +it saves them a lot of fuss and bother. Look at it this way: Phil +Spinelli's girls aren't cheap whores. They're beautiful society dames +of the sort every man wants to lay. But to lay a regular society +woman, you've got to date her for weeks, take her to fancy restaurants, +spend a lot of cash and time on her before she'll come across. With a +call-girl, you short-circuit all the steps in between. You pick up the +phone, you call Spinelli, and you get a nice glossy Fifth Avenue type +girl who doesn't need to be coaxed into bed." Marilyn glanced at her +watch. "But it's almost half past twelve. You all ready?" + +"Yes." + +"Get downstairs, then. You don't want Spinelli to have to come looking +for you up here." + +"Okay. I'm going." + +"And--" Marilyn smiled tenderly and squeezed Laura's gloved hand. "Good +luck, honey. I hope you make the grade--even if that means we have to +split up." + +"We'll stay together, no matter what," Laura promised. + +Marilyn shook her head. "It won't work out that way, believe me. But +thanks for saying it. Hurry along, now, honey." + +Laura made her way downstairs, trying to remain calm. She had only a +few moments to wait in front of the building before an enormous black +Imperial sedan glided up. A chauffeur hopped out and opened the back +door, and a man emerged. He looked around uncertainly for a moment +before spotting Laura. + +"Mr. Spinelli?" she said in a hesitant voice. + +He smiled. "Laura." + +"That's right." + +"Don't call me Mr. Spinelli. I like people to call me Phil," he said, +and gestured toward the car. The chauffeur opened the door again, +and Laura got in. The back of the car was enormously roomy, and the +upholstery was luxurious. A sliding glass panel separated the rear +compartment from the driver's cabin. + +"Hungry?" Spinelli asked, grinning. + +"Some," Laura said. + +"What about the Henri IX? Or don't you like French cuisine?" + +Laura almost said, _I don't know, I've never tried it_. But she +checked herself in time. Settling back against the wonderfully buoyant +upholstery, she smiled and said, "I love it." + +"Henri IX," Spinelli said to the chauffeur, and slid the glass panel +shut. + +As the car pulled away and swung eastward in a big, arrogant U-turn, +Laura turned slightly to eye Spinelli. He was younger than she had +expected--no more than thirty-five at the very most, and possibly even +a few years younger. He was a medium height, extremely well-dressed, +with a relaxed, cosmopolitan manner. His face was tanned, his dark +hair thick and curly, and he wore a neat little clipped mustache. He +was, Laura thought, one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. +He positively radiated wealth, power, animal magnetism, strength. An +enormous sapphire glinted from a massive gold ring on one hand. Even +his wristwatch was formidable, a sleek oval face with all manner of +smaller dials on it. + +He was looking her over thoroughly, too. And, so far as Laura could +tell, he seemed to be pleased. + +As they reached the corner he said, "Would you care for a drink, +Laura?" + +She smiled in faint confusion. "A drink? You mean, we'll get out now?" + +Spinelli chuckled. "I mean right here and now. This is a very +well-equipped car." Leaning forward, he pressed his fingers against a +wooden panel on the rear of the front seat, and the panel swung open, +revealing a miniature bar within. "What about a Manhattan?" Spinelli +asked. + +Laura was too astonished to answer the question, at first. Staring at +the bar in wonder, she said, "I didn't know automobiles could have +things like this." + +"A custom job can. A Manhattan?" + +"Oh--yes. Yes, thanks." + +Spinelli took a glass from a rack and punched a spigot. Amber liquid +squirted out. "I keep Manhattans and Martinis readymade under +refrigeration here," he explained, as he took a cherry from a plastic +container and popped it into her drink. "It's a nuisance trying to mix +things while the car is moving." He filled a second cocktail glass with +a martini for himself, and they sat back. Laura sipped her drink, it +was delicious; and, in the big car, there were no jounces, no bumps. +The ride was serene. + +Spinelli said, "I suppose you're wondering how I happened to get your +phone number." + +"I suppose I am," Laura said. + +Spinelli smiled amiably. "I have a number of friends around town who +keep me informed about promising newcomers," he said. "I like to know +about it whenever a lovely girl comes to New York--especially when +she's looking for a job in the entertainment world. One day last week +there was a call from one of my friends, a Mr. McCarten." + +Laura stiffened involuntarily. + +"Something wrong?" Spinelli asked easily. + +Laura forced a smile. "Mr. McCarten and I had--some unpleasantness." + +"Oh? He didn't mention that. He did say you were an extremely handsome +young woman, and I must remark his judgment was excellent. And he +thought you might be receptive to an offer from me. I'm--ah--in a form +of the entertainment world myself. Mr. McCarten told me where I could +reach you, and I phoned the Y, only to learn that you were out. When +I called again the next day, they informed me you had moved, but they +didn't know your address." Spinelli shrugged. "I was ready to write you +off as a lost cause, until your telephone call. I'm delighted you were +able to get in touch with me at last." + +Laura sat back, sipping her drink. She found it hard to believe that +this handsome, cultured young man could be the overlord of high-priced +vice in New York City. But it was easy to read between the lines +of what he was saying, to know that McCarten was one of Spinelli's +talent scouts and had recommended her. It was strange that McCarten +should think that a girl who had been raped of her virginity would be +interested in becoming a call-girl--but perhaps McCarten was so shrewd +a psychologist that he knew exactly what the effect of his act would +be. Certainly it had led her in a straight line toward Spinelli. + +The limousine pulled up in front of an East Side hotel. The chauffeur +ran around to the side to open the door; Spinelli got out, helping +Laura, and they entered the hotel together, she on his arm. The +restaurant was at the rear of the hotel; the moment Spinelli entered, +a dignified-looking man in black came racing up, bowed, and gave him an +effusive welcome. + +"Your table is ready for you, Mr. Spinelli. If you and Mamselle will +come this way, s'il-vous-plait?" + +He led them the length of the lavishly-upholstered restaurant to a dim +alcove at the very rear, where a table for two nestled in intimate +darkness, separated somewhat from the rest of the dining room. +Spinelli helped Laura off with her jacket, and, in turning, she made a +half-bow, revealing her bosom to him. She noticed that his eyes flicked +appreciatively to her breasts for an instant before returning to their +usual blasé expression. + +"I have a permanent lunchtime reservation for this table," Spinelli +explained softly, as they took their seats. "Sometimes, when the place +is full and I am not here, they will telephone me for permission to +give it to someone else. But normally it waits for me at all times. +They are very kind to me here." + +He gestured to a waiter, who glided over at once. There was no menu. +Laura, having no idea what to order, smiled warmly and asked Spinelli +to order for her. + +Spinelli nodded. Speaking in smooth French, he said, "We'll begin with +_escargot_ today. Onion soup for the lady, _petite marmite_ for me, and +the baked pheasant for two. With a bottle of the '47 Tavel, Pierre." + +The waiter moved away. Laura asked Spinelli for a translation, which he +supplied. + +While waiting for the snails, he said, "McCarten told me you had just +arrived from Kansas. I don't suppose you have many restaurants of the +grand cuisine out there, do you?" + +"Not very many," Laura said. + +"You don't have to pretend with me," Spinelli said gently. "I know you +want to seem sophisticated, Laura, but you don't have to be afraid to +admit things. You're a very beautiful girl. The sophistication can come +later. You've never eaten in a French restaurant, have you?" + +Laura glanced at the table. "No." + +"All right. There's a first time for everything. Don't you agree?" + +"Yes," she murmured. "A first time for eating snails--and a first time +for other things." + +"But you've experienced some of the other things already, haven't you?" + +Color came to her cheeks. "Yes," she said. + +"Good. I just wanted to start clearing up any misconceptions you may +have. McCarten gave me a rather ambiguous report about you." Spinelli +toyed with his silverware. "You are twenty-three?" + +"Twenty-one. Did he tell you--?" + +"He told me you were twenty-one. I'm a very suspicious man, my dear, +and I like to try to catch people in little slips. I believe in perfect +honesty, both on my part and on the part of my associates." + +The waiter returned, bearing a little tray of snails. Laura stared at +them in some anxiety, but Spinelli quickly dispelled it. Carefully he +showed her how to grip the shell in the little clamp and extract the +snail with the tiny fork, and how to mop up the delicious garlic-butter +sauce with a bit of bread. The snails were magnificent. Laura had been +apprehensive about eating them, but she found nothing repugnant at all +about them. + +Spinelli seemed to be in no hurry. He kept up a smooth flow of +conversation, generally aimed at trying to draw Laura out. She +abandoned all attempts at pretense of sophistication--but, at the same +time, she endeavored to let him know that she was not utterly innocent. +She kept from him any hint that she had been a streetwalker for the +past several days. As Marilyn had pointed out, that would hardly +enhance her market value to him. + +At length, when only a few scraps of pheasant remained on their plates, +Spinelli said, "I think the time has come to take off the masks we've +been wearing. Laura, do you know what sort of employment I can offer +you?" + +"I think so." + +"Don't try to make guesses." Spinelli steepled his fingers. "I don't +know what stories you may have heard about me, but probably they're all +fairly accurate, if somewhat coarsened. One of my chief enterprises is +a kind of entertainment service. I provide feminine companionship for a +wealthy and carefully chosen clientele, largely business executives. Do +you understand me?" + +"Perfectly," she said in a steady voice. + +Spinelli looked a little surprised. "McCarten remarked that you seemed +a trifle naive to him. Perhaps his standards of evaluation need some +revising." + +Gently Laura said, "I had only been in New York four days when I met +him. I've had an extra week, now, and a week more in New York makes +quite a difference." + +"Evidently," Spinelli said. He stared evenly at Laura. "I have +reason to want you to join my staff," he said. "The activities you +will engage in are far from unpleasant, and highly lucrative. The +girls on my staff earn between $20,000 and $50,000 a year, all of it +tax free. The amount they earn is limited only by their eagerness +and--ah--abilities. I think there's an opportunity for you. You're +free to leave my employ at any time, so long as you give me adequate +notice--say, two or three weeks. Most of my girls stay with me five or +six years. The nature of the work brings you in contact with a good +deal of promising matrimonial material. You'd be amazed to learn how +many wives of executives are my alumnae. At no time will I stand in +the way of a good match--though naturally I'll expect that you keep my +interests in mind when you take up your life as the wife of a wealthy +man." Spinelli smiled urbanely. "Don't give me any decision yet, +please. There are certain technicalities to settle before we can arrive +at any agreement. If you're absolutely positive you're not interested, +let me know at the end of the meal, and we can go our separate ways. +Otherwise, I'd like you to come up to my apartment for some further +discussions." + +Laura nodded. "Very well." + +Spinelli lingered over dessert and coffee, and he finished the meal off +with cognac. It was now well over two hours since they had entered the +restaurant. When he was ready to leave, he put a five-dollar bill on +the table and they departed without waiting for a check. Probably they +simply sent him a monthly bill, Laura decided. She wondered how much +the meal had cost. Twenty or thirty dollars, probably. + +The limousine was waiting. Spinelli looked at her inquiringly. + +"Shall I take you home, Laura?" + +She smiled. "I'd rather continue the discussion," she said. + +He looked gratified. He helped her into the car and it drove off, +eastward to a towering apartment building in the mid-Sixties, +overlooking the river. Spinelli dismissed the chauffeur and escorted +Laura into the glittering lobby. They rode up, up endlessly it seemed, +getting out finally on the twentieth floor. The elevator opened right +into a foyer of an enormous apartment. As they walked in, a massive man +came out of a room off to the left, bearing a sheaf of papers. + +Spinelli nodded. "Laura Haynes, this is George Skalkottis, my personal +secretary. Say hello to Miss Haynes, George." + +"Hello," the big man said. Laura recognized it as the voice of the man +who had answered the phone earlier that day. Skalkottis looked like +nothing so much as a well-dressed ape. She shivered imperceptibly, +realizing that the "personal secretary" was probably really a bodyguard +and hired killer. Spinelli's urbane charm had almost made her forget +the fact that he was a criminal. + +"Save the messages for later, George," Spinelli said airily. "Miss +Haynes and I have business to discuss. See that we're not disturbed for +at least an hour." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Come, Laura." + +Spinelli led her through a series of breathtakingly beautiful rooms, +into one final room at least forty feet long and twenty wide, which +opened out onto a terrace that gave a magnificent view of the river +and of Queens beyond it. The big room was lavishly furnished, with a +big hi-fi set, an enormous bar, and a vast divan big enough to sleep +two. Laura noticed that Spinelli clicked the door shut behind him. He +moved gracefully to the controls of the hi-fi set and flicked a knob, +and soft string music filtered into the room from what seemed like +every direction. + +"Another cognac?" Spinelli suggested. + +Laura took the drink from him. They stood together at the terrace, +admiring the view, sipping the drinks. Laura waited tensely, knowing +what was coming. It would be a personal test of her abilities, she +thought. + +Spinelli's hand rested lightly on her shoulders. Suddenly, putting the +drink down, he spun her around and bent to kiss her breasts just above +the neckline of her dress. His hands left her shoulders, travelling +down her sides and trailing lightly over her buttocks. + +Without a word, Spinelli began to undress her. She tried to remain +calm as he unzipped her dress and drew it off, removed her slip, and +unhooked the tight bra that thrust her breasts upward. Despite his +silence, she could see the obvious pleasure in his eyes at the sight of +her full round breasts bare before him. Continuing, he knelt to unhook +her garters, and delicately rolled her stockings off. His hands moved +with a surgeon's finesse. The panties and garter-belt followed, and +she stood naked before him, feeling the color mount to her throat and +breasts under his intense appraising gaze. She put her hands on her +hips and stood with her legs slightly apart while he looked her over. + +Then he removed his own clothes, just as silently. His body had an +athlete's lean symmetry, with wide, muscular shoulders and a deep +chest, tapering to narrow hips and thickly-muscled but narrowing legs. +He was tanned an even golden-brown over every part of his body. + +Smiling, but still silently, he came toward her, took her by the hand, +led her toward the divan. He folded his arms around her, and she felt +the flat muscles of his chest tight against her breasts, and, gently, +he drew her down on the divan. + +He was an expert lover. He played on her body as though it were a fine +musical instrument, and every motion was a graceful, unhurried one. +Desperately, because of her lack of experience, Laura tried to play the +part of an experienced woman. She took her cues from him. He seemed +to sense that she had never made love in a fully willing way before, +because every touch was one of tenderness. His fingertips lightly +caressed her nipples until they became hard and erect. His lips darted +like a butterfly's wings over her entire body. His hands brought gasps +of pleasure to her. + +At last he decided that they could complete the act. Laura was clinging +to him, eager and aroused, and he seemed magically to float above her, +until she began to feel the rippling waves of ecstacy and she could no +longer keep her eyes open. + +She closed them, and her lips parted to admit his tongue, and she felt +warmth rise up and surround her, soft soothing warmth like the loving +embrace of the womb, and with every motion new pleasure inflamed her. +Her breath was coming in irregular bursts now, and whenever she opened +her eyes she saw Spinelli smiling above her, always calm, always +silent. + +She cried out, a moaning wordless cry of delight, and felt her +muscles contract and her skin grow cold, and she moved feverishly +in her ecstacy, subsiding after a moment with throbbing heart. +Spinelli was still with her, though, carrying her along from one +height to the next, smiling, bending his head now to kiss her breasts +or to nibble thrillingly at the fleshy part of her. Her breath was +coming in irregular bursts now, until finally--it seemed like hours +later--Spinelli's grasp tightened on her shoulders, and he quivered and +she cried out one last time, and then all was still. She wrapped her +arms around him and held him tight against her. + +For some time they remained that way. Then Spinelli rose from her and +walked to the window. Naked, he stood with his back to her, looking out +over the islands of the East River. + +He spoke, at last, for the first time since it had begun. + +"You're very beautiful," he said. His voice was deeper, harsher than it +had been before. + +Laura said nothing. Her body still throbbed from the afterglow of their +sensual encounter. + +"I want you to work for me," Spinelli said, turning around. "You're +magnificent. For a novice, you're tremendous. I'll guarantee you $500 a +week, and you can have a month's salary in advance before you walk out +of this apartment today. What do you say?" + +"I'll take it," Laura said in a voice she hardly recognized. + + + + + _CHAPTER SEVEN_ + + +The twenty hundred-dollar bills new and crisp, made a neat little +stack. Spinelli toyed with them, tapping them together, shuffling and +reshuffling them. It was half an hour since they had made love. They +had donned their clothing once again. + +Spinelli said, "This will be four weeks' advance against your earnings. +I'll expect you to buy some fine clothing--if you need help picking +anything, one of my other girls will help you. You'll move across +town as soon as possible, into an apartment that more nearly reflects +your economic status. It probably won't often be necessary for you to +receive clients in your home, but I want you to live well anyway. When +you travel, you'll travel by taxi. When you eat, you'll eat only at the +best places. You're not a Kansas farm-girl any more, remember. You're a +sophisticated Manhattanite, and I want you to live the part twenty-four +hours a day." + +"It shouldn't be too hard," Laura said. + +"As for your working day: I'll have to insist that you be within +telephone range from three o'clock on, every day. When possible, I'll +try to line up your assignments in advance. The general arrangement is +that you meet the client for dinner, attend a show with him, and go to +his hotel. Most of your clients will be out-of-towners, executives. +You'll be eating at the best places in town, so I suggest you keep an +eye on your weight. You cease to be valuable when you begin to get +bloated." Spinelli smiled smoothly. "There'll be various special +assignments for you--trips out of town, parties at conventions, things +like that. You'll be notified well in advance when possible. Some of my +clients have--ah--unusual tastes in sexual practices. In the beginning, +I'll keep you away from the really oddball ones. I have specialist +girls for them, anyway." + +"And you'll pay me a regular salary, is that it?" Laura asked. + +Spinelli nodded. "Five hundred a week, payable every Wednesday in cash. +My messenger will drop the money off at your apartment, and you'll give +him a receipt for it. Aside from the base salary, you may receive gifts +from your clients. Anything they give you is yours--but you must report +it to me, even if it's only a few dollars. Is that clear? I insist on +knowing what they give you." + +"Fair enough," Laura said. "How will they pay for my services?" + +"I bill them. No money will change hands through you, except what they +choose to give you for yourself. I refuse to let my girls be forced to +act as collection agents for me. You render services: I worry about +collecting the fee for them." + +Laura crossed her legs. "Just as a matter of curiosity, could you tell +me how much you'd collect for my night's services?" + +Spinelli showed even white teeth in a flickering smile. "The answer to +that is no. All you need to know is that my operations show a profit +despite the basic overhead of the girl's salary. Incidentally, you'll +have six days off each month. You can generally pick these yourself, +but you'll have to give me a couple of days' notice. On the days when +you're unable for--ah--personal reasons to give complete services, +you'll be assigned to less intimate social events." Spinelli stood up +and pushed the little sheaf of hundred-dollar bills toward her. "Are +there any questions?" + +"Yes," Laura said. "I've got a friend, a girl I'm rooming with. Is it +all right if I let her share my new apartment?" + +"Absolutely not." + +"But--" + +Spinelli's face grew stern. "I don't want any complications. None of my +girls are allowed to share their apartments, even with other girls of +the staff. If you think this friend of yours is interested in this sort +of work, I'll be happy to interview her--but you can't go on living +with her." + +Laura shook her head. "She's--not very pretty," she said in a low +voice. "I don't think you'd be able to use her. But--I wish I didn't +have to split up with her--" + +"I don't believe in making exceptions," Spinelli said coolly. +"Understood?" + +Laura shrugged. "Yes." + +"Everything's agreed, then?" + +"Agreed," Laura said in a low voice. "When do I start?" + +"There's no rush. The end of the week, perhaps. I'll arrange for an +apartment for you tomorrow, and you can begin furnishing it right away. +My decorator will help you, and we can arrange any kind of payment +scheme you like. Also, tomorrow, you'll come here to be photographed." + +"Photographed?" + +"Like this," Spinelli said, taking a large flat book from a desk +drawer. He handed it to Laura. It was thick, printed on glossy paper. +It consisted of page after page of photographs of girls, all of them +nude, photographed from front and back and in several angles. Laura +reddened faintly, and gave the book back to him. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Expensive stores have display windows for their goods. This book is my +display window. When a client insists on seeing in advance what he's +paying for, I show him the book. Your pictures will be in the next +edition." Spinelli laughed. "Don't worry though. The book has a highly +limited circulation. Only a very exclusive few ever get to see it, +and no copy can be bought at any price." He looked at his watch. "Run +along, now. I'll phone you tomorrow when your apartment is rented." + +Laura felt dizzy as she stepped out. It was hard to believe that she +had two thousand dollars in cash in her handbag, harder to believe that +in a few days of rocketlike rapidity she had taken up and abandoned a +career as a streetwalker and had stumbled somehow into the glittering +and money-laden life of the call-girl. + +She started to look around for the subway; then, remembering what +Spinelli had told her, she hailed a cab and took it to Columbus Circle. +She got out and looked around for several minutes before finding +Marilyn. + +The slim prostitute was sitting glumly on one of the benches just +inside the park, obviously having a slow afternoon. But she brightened +the moment she saw Laura approach, running toward her and embracing her. + +"Well?" Marilyn asked eagerly. "Tell me all about it. What happened! +What did he do?" + +"I made the grade," Laura said simply. + +"Great!" + +"He took me to lunch--fabulous place--and he explained the setup. Then +he took me up to his apartment and sort of tested me out, and told me I +could have the job if I wanted it. For five hundred bucks a week." + +Marilyn gasped. "Five hundred--!" + +"And he gave me a month's advance. I'm going to go on the most glorious +shopping spree a girl ever went on, Marilyn. He's getting me an +apartment, too, on the East Side, and--_oh_." + +Marilyn looked up, anguish on her thin face, "I figured." + +"I'm sorry, Marilyn," Laura said gently, and tears came to her eyes. +"I asked him if you could room with me. He said Absolutely no. No +roommates of any kind. That was emphatic." + +Marilyn smiled wanly. "That's okay, hon. I'm not in your league, +anyway. You wouldn't want me around. I'm a hundred percent for you, +Laura. I think all this is wonderful." She shrugged. "What the hell, +I'm not any worse off than before I met you. I'll find another roommate +sooner or later." + +"We'll keep in touch," Laura promised, but already she began to see +that they would not. Marilyn belonged to a different world, a shabby +world of $3.50 hotel rooms and five-dollar tricks. It would be +inevitable that the gulf between them would widen as Laura moved into +more and more exalted circles. + +Laura persuaded Marilyn to quit for the day, even though she hadn't +turned a single trick yet. "I'll pay you for what you'd be losing," +Laura said gaily. "Let's go downtown and do some shopping--the stores +are open late tonight, aren't they? And we'll have a little party, you +and me, just for old time's sake." + +It was not as joyous an evening as it might have been. Laura stubbornly +insisted that Marilyn should get herself some new clothes, and that she +would pay for them. Marilyn was unwilling, but Laura kept at it. At +length, Marilyn bought a dress and a few blouses, while Laura treated +herself to virtually an entire wardrobe, telling the clerks that she +was moving and would notify the store of her new address so delivery +could be made. The clothing bill came to $250, and Laura lightheartedly +paid for it in hundred-dollar bills, to the astonishment of the clerks. + +An undercurrent of gloom marred the evening, despite every attempt to +keep things festive. They ate out--Laura was not very hungry, after the +big lunch, and she limited herself to a few drinks and sandwiches--and +then went back to the apartment and talked till very late about Laura's +new future. They went to sleep in the same bed, in each other's arms, +but they did not make love. + +There was a call at eleven the following morning from Skalkottis, +Spinelli's secretary. "Mr. Spinelli says to tell you to get your things +packed right away, and he'll send the car over to pick you up. How +soon can you be ready?" + +"Give me an hour." + +"Okay," Skalkottis rumbled. "The car will be in front of your place at +noon." + +With Marilyn's help, Laura packed quickly and she was ready to go by +quarter to twelve. The two girls waited silently for the minutes to +pass. There was not much that could easily be said. + +At five to twelve a horn honked down below. Laura glanced out the +window and saw Spinelli's limousine in front of the house. Spinelli +himself had not come, only the chauffeur. While Marilyn bustled about, +frantically getting everything together, Laura slipped into the +bedroom. Quietly, she drew two hundred-dollar bills from her purse +and, folding them up, put them in the medicine cabinet. She knew that +Marilyn would never accept the money if it were offered--but perhaps +this way she would keep it. + +Marilyn and Laura brought the luggage downstairs, and the chauffeur +stored it in the trunk. Laura turned to her friend before getting into +the car. + +"So long," she said. "I'll be in touch." + +"Just live well," Marilyn said. "Have the best of everything. You +deserve it, hon." + +They kissed--quickly, like sisters--and then Laura entered the long +black car. It purred serenely away from the curb. + +Spinelli was waiting impatiently in the big apartment. Greeting Laura +impersonally, he said, "I've got a place for you on 65th right off the +East River Drive. Four rooms, terrace. It'll set you back $325 a month." + +Laura whistled. "So much?" + +"Believe me, that's cheap. Dirt cheap. You have to live in a good place +if you work for me, Laura. My decorator's coming over in an hour or +so, and we'll all go over there and plan things out for you. Meanwhile +let's get the photography out of the way." + +One room of Spinelli's sprawling apartment had been converted into a +regular photo studio. The photographer, a thin, bald man with a domed +head and a peculiarly glassy-eyed stare, was busily setting up lights +and chalking off angles. + +"All set?" Spinelli asked him crisply. + +"Another few minutes, Mr. Spinelli. If the young lady will remove her +clothing so all marks of garments and belts can disappear--" + +Laura hesitated. Skalkottis had come into the room. + +"Go ahead," Spinelli said. "Didn't you hear him?" + +"In front of everybody?" she asked. + +"These men have seen the female body before, Laura. Yours isn't going +to be anything new to them. Come on, let's get the show moving." + +Swallowing any lingering vestige of modesty, Laura began to remove her +clothes. She unbuttoned her blouse and draped it over a table, removed +her skirt, took off the half-slip. She sensed the tension in the room +as she bared her breasts; maybe these men had seen the female body +before, but they certainly took a lively interest in hers. A moment +later, the panties and garter-belt joined the rest of her clothing, and +she was nude. + +"Over here," Spinelli ordered. "Stand under the light. Heinsohn, how +does she look?" + +At the photographer's gesture, Laura turned in a complete circle. The +photographer said, "The garter-belt has left a mark on the upper part +of her buttocks, as you see. Otherwise she is ready. We'll do the front +views first, and perhaps by then the back will be ready." + +Efficiently, he went about his work. He was obviously a master of +the art of photographing women. He showed Laura how to hold her arms +against her sides so her breasts would thrust forward even more than +they already did; he asked her to suck in her belly, to stand at a +slight angle, to smile with drooping lips, to look at the camera with +slitted eyes. He took more than a dozen shots--downward over her +shoulder to catch the steep thrust of her bosom, upwards toward the +crotch, profile, breast close-ups, everything. By that time, the marks +on her rear had disappeared and he was able to complete the set. + +"I want the proofs at nine tomorrow morning," Spinelli said. He patted +Laura's buttocks. "Back into the clothes, girl. I'll show you your +apartment now." + +Laura dressed quickly, and she and Spinelli drove the few blocks to +her new apartment. It was in an extremely modern building, and the +apartment was an attractive one, with spacious room and a nice little +terrace. Spinelli soon left, pleading urgent business elsewhere, and +Laura and Spinelli's decorator--a plump, dowdy little woman--conferred +on the furnishings. + +Evidently Spinelli had pull even in the furniture world. Later that +evening, a van pulled up with a temporary bed and chest of drawers for +Laura, to last her for the few weeks it would take until her permanent +furniture arrived. + +The next few days were hectic ones for Laura. She was busy poring over +fabrics and designs, spending sums of money that would have seemed +incredible to her only a week before. Spinelli told her not to worry, +that he would cover the cost of the apartment and she could pay him +back over as long a period of time as she chose. + +The telephone was installed on the third day--a gleaming ivory one +in the bedroom-to-be, and a beige wall extension in the kitchen. The +apartment began to take shape as, with fantastic speed, the furnishings +arrived. Laura saw little of Spinelli during those days. He dropped in +from time to time to see what progress was being made, and he brought +over the proofs of Laura's photos to show her. They were astonishingly +intimate shots, and she blushed to see them, much to Spinelli's +amusement. + +One of Spinelli's other girls was detailed to fill Laura in on the +ropes. She was a glamorous, somehow brittle-looking blonde in her late +twenties, who gave her name as Tania. Tania, it seemed, was one of the +veterans of Spinelli's staff, one who handled many of the "specialty" +clients. She gave Laura a thorough coaching on what she was expected to +do when with clients. + +Laura listened carefully. She wanted to be a good pupil. She wanted to +be worth her salary. + +At the end of that week, she had her first chance. + +There was a call from Spinelli at half past two that day. "I've got an +assignment for you," he said simply. + +Laura felt a flutter of nervousness. "When?" + +"Tonight. One of the regulars came down with her monthlies a day early, +damn her. I need you to pinch-hit." + +"What's the setup?" + +"Double date," Spinelli said. "Two purchasing agents from a midwestern +department-store chain company are in town, and an air-conditioning +outfit promised to send them a couple of girls, just to sweeten things +up. You and Tania are the dates. They're staying at the Hudson. You +meet them there at six for dinner, and the rest of the evening's up to +them. Take your cues from Tania and it'll be all right." + +Tania phoned a few minutes later to arrange to meet her. Tania lived +on the next block; they met at the corner of 59th and First and hailed +a cab to the Hudson Hotel. Laura wore one of her new dresses, an +extremely _decollete_ affair which bared her breasts practically to +the nipples, while Tania's dress was a severe, high-neckline affair +that pulled taut against her body and accentuated the sharp outjutting +contours of her bosom. + +The purchasing agents had a suite on the ninth floor. At six sharp, +Tania and Laura were knocking on the door. + +The man who answered was in his late forties, tall and plump and +bland-looking. Before he could say anything, Tania said warmly, +"_Hello_, there. Are you Lou Hazen?" + +They stepped inside. The second man emerged--shorter, leaner, a little +older. His name was Dave Hesse, and the girls introduced themselves. +Deftly, Tania slipped her arm through Lou Hazen's, thereby establishing +a coupling for the evening and avoiding any possible confusion about +which date was which, at least at the start. + +They had a gay and lengthy dinner at a nightclub, and stayed around for +part of the floor show. Then Hazen suggested, none too subtly, that +they return to the hotel and have a little "party." + +In the two-bedroom suite, they ordered drinks and setups from room +service, and until about eleven-thirty they had a party. Tania did +as little drinking as possible, and Laura followed her lead. The men +seemed to be having a good time. They told the filthiest jokes Laura +had ever heard, and they grew increasingly uninhibited as the evening +wore on; Tania sat on Hazen's lap, and he had his hand thrust up under +her skirt between her legs, while Laura sprawled out on the couch with +her head in Hesse's lap while he slipped his hands into her dress, and +under her bra to cup the warm large breasts and play with her stiff +nipples. + +Still later, the couples were kissing intimately, and finally Hesse +leaned over Laura drunkenly and said, "C'mon inside. We need some +privacy." + +Obediently, Laura went into one of the bedrooms with him, and Hesse +closed the door. "Take off y'r clothes," he ordered thickly. She did +so, while he undressed too. He was hairy and had the beginnings of a +potbelly. He eyed her admiringly. "You got a nice paira tits, you know? +Jeez, if my wife only had a pair like that. Wish I could take them +back to Illinois with me." + +He staggered forward toward the bed and tumbled down on top of her. +"Letsh have relations," he whispered. "Isn't that what they call it, +relations? They got some other words for it, too, but I like relations." + +He began to laugh, as though he had said something tremendously funny, +and he was still laughing as he entered her. Laura caressed him +impersonally, as though he were a statue come to life, and he continued +to chuckle until it was over. + +Almost immediately, he was asleep. + +Laura lay by his side for a long while, hearing laughter coming from +the next room. Suddenly the door opened, and Hazen stood there, stark +naked, his fat body pale and soft. Tania was with him too, also naked. +Her nakedness had a sleek, tawny quality about it. + +Tania said, "Is he asleep?" + +"Like a light." + +"Come on inside, then. Hazen wants us both." + +What followed was complicated, and Laura had never dreamed that such +acts were commonplace. Hazen sprawled out on his bed with both girls, +switching from one to the other without reaching fulfillment in either, +until finally he clasped Tania tight to completion. By that time, Hesse +was awake and ready again. The rollicking party went on hectically +until nearly five in the morning, when both Hesse and Hazen, exhausted, +indicated they had had enough fun for the evening. Just before +tottering off to bed, Hazen found his trousers and pulled out a bill. + +"Here," he said, extending it to Laura. "You're good girls. Have some +fun with this." + +Laura took it and showed it to Tania as Hazen went into the bedroom. It +was a hundred. + +Tania grinned. "Fifty apiece. Not bad at all, even with the specialty +stuff." + +"Can we go home now?" + +"Nothing stopping us. How do you feel?" + +"A little shaky. I've never done things like that before." + +"You'll get used to them," Tania chuckled. "These mid-westerners have +the damndest ideas, sometimes." + +Laura went into the bathroom and tidied herself up, and dressed +while Tania was washing. Hazen and Hesse were sound asleep, snoring +blissfully. "They'll sleep like logs now," Tania said. "Well, I hope we +sold plenty of air-conditioners tonight." + +"They seemed to like us," Laura said. + +"You all ready?" + +"Just about." + +"Phone the desk and ask them to call a cab for us while I'm getting +dressed," Tania said. "After a night like this I can always use plenty +of sleep." She yawned. "Spinelli wants me to turn in a report on your +performance tonight, by the way, Laura. And I'm going to give him a +good one. You did damned well for a beginner, you know. Damned well." + + + + + _CHAPTER EIGHT_ + + +Within a week, there no longer was any novelty for Laura in mingling +with rich men and accepting money from them for her favors. Within +two weeks, her new career had settled down as a routine. Each day, +about three o'clock, Spinelli or one of his assistants would phone +her and tell her the details of that evening's assignment. At the +earliest--when the evening began with a dinner date--she had to set out +about six; other engagements began as late as nine or ten. She would +taxi to her rendezvous, which almost always turned out to be in one of +the fine hotels in the Fifties, and for the rest of the evening she +would take part in whatever sociability was required of her. Generally +she was free to go home by three or four in the morning, though +sometimes she had to remain until dawn. When she got home, she would +sleep for eight hours, get up, breakfast lightly, and spend the hours +after noon shopping or reading or at a movie matinee. By three, she was +back in the apartment to await Spinelli's call. + +It was difficult, at first, to adjust to a schedule that involved +staying up half the night and sleeping all morning, but gradually she +found herself accommodating to the change. It was harder to adapt +to the sudden quantity of fine food and liquor that her profession +required her to consume; she quickly learned to eat sparingly when +on dates, to drink as little as she possibly could without seeming +unsociable, and to cut down on her other meals of the day. She skipped +lunches altogether and reduced breakfast to a matter of juice, toast, +and coffee, and thus was able to cope with the output of New York's +finest restaurants each evening without undue ill effects. + +The assignments were varied. One night she was picked to accompany an +aging steelman to the theater. She sat at his side through a musical, +clinging appreciatively to his arm during intermissions and attracting +a lot of attention by her daring neckline. After the theater they +visited a nightspot and went to his hotel. It turned out that he was +not interested in making love. He asked her to undress, watching +eagerly as each garment came off. When she was totally naked, he +inspected her body with weird curiosity, and then put her clothes back +on her. She undressed two or three more times, and he fondled her and +pinched her and ogled her body, and then gave her fifty dollars and +sent her home. + +Another time, Laura's task was to attend a convention of automobile +dealers. She and two other girls, a brunette named Gloria and a blonde +called Charlene, were assigned to the task of setting themselves up +in the bedrooms of a big suite belonging to one of the automobile +manufacturers, and entertaining certain specific guests. By the end of +that evening, Laura figured that she had slept with close to a dozen +bigshot auto dealers--but her tips for the evening's work came to more +than $200, and when she left the hotel, at four-thirty in the morning, +she was able to blot the succession of grunting paunchy men from her +mind with ease. + +Tips were running high--anywhere from $150 to $450 a week, on top +of her regular salary. Each day when she talked to Spinelli she +scrupulously reported the amount of cash she had been given the night +before. She sent some of it to him to cover the furniture expenses, and +spent the rest on clothing, furs, jewelry, fine objects of art for her +apartment. She banked fifty dollars every week no matter what expenses +she had, and when she could manage it she put a hundred away. Her years +of big money earning couldn't last forever, she knew, and if she saved +systematically there would be a cushion of quite a few thousand dollars +by the time she quit. + +One day a few weeks after Laura had begun working for Spinelli, he +called up with a weekend assignment. "Fellow named Burrows," Spinelli +said. "He's an advertising man who owns a yacht, and he's giving a +little weekend shindig for his possible future employer. He wants two +girls to liven the proceedings up during the weekend. I'm sending +Charlene to take care of the guest--how about you for the host?" + +"Sounds swell," Laura said. "When and where?" + +"This weekend. The yacht's kept in Long Island Sound. I'll have you +and Char driven out to the place Saturday morning. Take Friday off so +you'll be well rested," Spinelli told her. + +She was up bright and early on Saturday. It was almost a novelty not +to be getting up after noon. She packed a light frock and a couple of +bikinis and some evening wear, and at noon she was in front of her +house waiting for the limousine to arrive. + +Charlene was already aboard. She was a tall, slim, solemn girl of about +twenty-four--not busty like Laura, but more elegant, more like a high +fashion model. The two girls smiled hellos and settled down for the +long drive out into the country. + +At one-thirty they reached the North Shore home of the advertising man. +He came out to meet the limousine. Burrows was a rangy, good-looking +bachelor of thirty-two; his guest, Stan Fields, was closer to fifty, +with a worried, uncertain look. Both men were deeply tanned, and both +were dressed in polo shirts and Bermuda shorts. + +After introductions, Burrows said, "Everything's all ready aboard ship. +Suppose we head out there now." + +There was a launch out back, belonging to the marina, and they rode out +to Burrows' yacht. The boat was good-sized, a sleek, low white ship +with two masts. "I'll bet he won't be through paying for it for twenty +years," Charlene murmured in a low voice as they stepped out onto the +schooner's deck. + +Burrows and his guest busied themselves, slipping the mooring and +heading out of the harbor under power while the girls stowed their +personal gear in the staterooms belowdecks, and changed into bikinis. +When they came up above again, the motor was killed and the two men +were energetically making sail. + +"Help with those halyards!" Burrows yelled. "You girls didn't think you +were here just as decorations, did you?" + +Laura and Charlene pitched in, and the canvas rose and bellied out in +the breeze. + +"We're under way," Burrows said. "Laura, there are martinis in the +refrigerator down below. Want to break them out and do the honors while +I'm heading for the cove?" + +Laura efficiently served drinks in the cockpit. The sleek ship raced +along, heading eastward through the Sound, until finally Burrows pulled +it into a secluded cove and dropped anchor. Here, they could frolic +undisturbed all weekend. + +It was half past two, now, and the warm late-spring sun beat down. The +four yachters downed martinis for a while, accompanying them with hors +d'oeuvres from Burrows' well-stocked galley. It was after the third +round of drinks that the older advertising man said, "How about a swim, +Teddy-lad?" + +"Fine with me," Burrows said. "Girls?" + +The girls were already in their swimsuits--eye-popping bikinis that +consisted merely of a double-diamond-shaped piece covering loins +and buttocks but leaving all but the essential parts bare, and a +nipple-shielding strip under the arms. Burrows and Fields went +belowdecks and returned a few moments later in trunks. + +They dove overboard and splashed in the cool, clear water for a while. +The coupling had definitely been established--Laura and Burrows, +Charlene and Fields--and there was a good deal of horseplay in the +water. Exhausted, Laura swam to the side of the boat and hung on. +Burrows came paddling up behind her and locked his legs around her +body, slipping his hands up and cupping her breasts. She turned around +halfway and kissed him, and at the same moment his hands found the +catch of her bikini halter and opened it. The bit of cloth fell away. +Her breasts, round and full, rose into his hands. She turned to face +him fully now, and they bobbed in the water, his hands cupping her +breasts, her leg thrust between his thighs, both of them laughing and +panting in excitement. Laura heard giggles from the other side of +the ship, and knew that Charlene and Fields were engaging in similar +shenanigans over there. + +Burrows was busily engaged now in opening the loop that held Laura's +breechcloth on. He had some trouble--the salt water made the cloth +stiff--but finally he whipped the flimsy fabric away, tossing it and +the halter up onto the deck. Laura was naked, now. The cool water was +delightful against her bare breasts and loins. She found the beltstring +of Burrows' trunks, pulled it, pulled them off. Now both of them were +totally naked in the water. + +"I've never done it in the water before," Burrows laughed. "I didn't +ever think of the idea." + +"There's always a first time," Laura said. She put her back to the +boat, reaching behind her to grasp the ladder with each hand as a +stabilizer. Burrows swam to her, and she locked her legs around him, +moving back and forth. From the far side of the boat came a derisive +yell: "Hey, cut that out! You're making waves!" Burrows laughed without +replying. + +The water surrounding them cooled them, slowing stimulation and +prolonging the act. Laura clung to the lean, athletic body against +hers, releasing her grip on the ladder as he took hold of it, and body +to body they gasped out their delight. At the highest moment, Burrows +let go of the ladder. They slipped below the water, bodies still +joined, and she felt the tingling sensation of a mutual climax while +she held her breath, and then they were coming up for air and drifting +apart and smiling. + +Afterward, they clambered up on deck. Nude, Laura stretched out on the +forward deck to bask in the sun, while Burrows lay at her side, gently +stroking the silky skin of her buttocks. A little while later, Charlene +and Fields came on board, both of them minus their bathing-suits, +and all four sunbathed until the afternoon grew old and the breezes +brisk. By five, everyone was in a gorgeously gay mood. Charlene served +more cocktails, and then, as it began to get still cooler, they went +belowdecks. Burrows made love to Laura again in his stateroom--he +seemed tremendously virile--and then the girls prepared dinner, serving +it wearing little aprons over their otherwise nude bodies. + +After dinner, it was fishing time, to lay in a stock of food for +tomorrow's lunch. Then the four of them gathered in the big salon +near the galley for some music and necking. During a lull, Charlene +explained to Laura exactly what kind of specialty Fields went in for. +"They picked me specially for it because I don't mind doing it that +way. Some girls can't stand it at all." + +"I don't think I'd like it very much," Laura said. "It doesn't give the +woman any satisfaction." + +Charlene shrugged. "I told him I'd do it that way if we did it regular +way too. So I'm taken care of, and so is he. All in a day's work, +darling." + +Night descended, starry and beautiful. Cold now in sweaters and slacks, +they danced above deck until late, then retired. When he and Laura +were in bed together, Burrows began telling her all of his troubles. +He earned $32,000 a year at his present job, but he was heavily in +debt, and hoped to transfer to the agency Fields helped to run--at a +salary of $40,000 or better. The job was all but cinched, and inviting +Fields out to the yacht for a weekend of coeducational fun and games +was intended as the hoped-for clincher. "The only trouble," Burrows +complained, "is that if I make $40,000 a year I'll spend $50,000. I +can't help myself. It's like a disease. This yacht costs me thousands a +year in upkeep alone. But I tell myself life wouldn't be worth living +if I didn't own a yacht." Burrows laughed and cupped Laura's breasts. +"Come here and give me a good time, honey. And wish me luck." + +They made love three times that night, and in the morning, after +breakfast, they swam and made love in the water once again. The older +man, Fields, seemed to be beaming, so evidently Charlene had pleased +him more than a little. + +Burrows produced a camera and insisted on taking color shots of the +girls, nude, as souvenirs of the weekend. He promised not to show +the pictures to anyone, and to send them prints. They consented, and +Burrows photographed them sunbathing on the deck, photographed Laura as +she climbed breasts-first up the ladder out of the water, photographed +Charlene with a life-preserver round her hips. Fields began to suggest +some more imaginative poses, but luckily the film ran out long before +any of his suggestions could be acted upon. + +Late that afternoon Burrows sailed the yacht back to his marina, and +they returned to the mainland. Spinelli's limousine was waiting to take +the girls back to Manhattan. As everyone said goodbye, Burrows folded a +hundred-dollar bill into Laura's hand. "Thanks for making everything so +wonderful," he whispered. "This is for you and Charlene to keep." + +They were back in the city by sundown, and Laura went straight to +her apartment. Tanned and tired, she stretched out on the couch and +relaxed. It had been a swell weekend, she thought. + +She thought of Marilyn, then, for the first time in weeks. Her promise +to keep in touch had been foregone; things had simply been too hectic. + +_Marilyn doesn't spend weekends on yachts in Long Island Sound_, Laura +thought. _And my tip for that weekend was more than Marilyn earns in +two whole days of grubby soliciting._ Laura felt sudden guilt. She +tried not to think about rights and wrongs, now, but suddenly it seemed +wrong that she should be living so luxurious a life. + +For a moment she thought of phoning Marilyn. But she shook her head. +Marilyn probably did not want to hear from her now. It would be only +human for Marilyn to hate her, since envy turns easily to hate. Laura +decided simply to forget Marilyn. She and Marilyn did not inhabit the +same world any more, and any communication between the worlds was bound +to be distorted. + +She forced herself to forget about Marilyn. + +It was June, now. She had been in New York City for two months. Every +week, she wrote a postcard to her grandparents, telling them how she +was doing. It was practically the same postcard every week, because she +knew the old people would not care. _Am holding a nice job and meeting +interesting people. New York is a wonderful city. The weather is +getting a little warm now. Send my best wishes to everyone back home, +Your affectionate granddaughter, Laura._ + +That was all that was needed--a formal reminder every now and then that +she was still alive. She suspected the old folks never read the cards. +They had their Bibles and their farm to keep them busy, and never went +in much for family ties. + +Laura took stock of her six weeks with Spinelli's syndicate, and the +stock-taking surprised her. She had earned $3000 in salary, $2250 in +tips, or almost nine hundred dollars a week. She had a well-furnished +apartment, a lot of jewelry and furs, and a thousand dollars in +the bank. With the furnishing expenses behind her and her wardrobe +complete, she would be able to start building up the bank account now. +She began to make elaborate plans. She would put ten thousand dollars +in the savings bank, to start with, and then she would start buying +stocks and bonds. As she grew richer, she would be earning more and +more from her investments, and perhaps it would be possible for her +to retire from the call-girl business altogether by the time she was +twenty-eight or so. + +_Retire to what?_ she wondered. + +Marriage? A theatrical career? Possibly, she thought. But she suspected +that she would grow to like her present soft life so well that she +would never abandon it voluntarily. Having money pour in faster than it +can be spent is an agreeable way to live. And, Laura told herself, she +had never been much on asceticism. + +One gilded day flowed into the next. Laura consorted with bankers, +stockbrokers, salesmen, manufacturers. She was astonished by the +magnitude of the business of sex. _If people only knew_, she thought, +_how many big deals are clinched in bed_-- + +Dozens of influential executives had fondled her breasts. Scores of +big-budget purchasing agents had been treated to an expensive night +between her satiny thighs. Her lush bosom had been a decoration of more +than one high-powered smokefilled-room conference at big conventions. + +The summer wore on. The money poured in. + +There was only one snag in paradise, though. Laura began to discover it +as June came to an end and July began, and she settled down into the +snug routine of a syndicate hostess. + +She was lonely. + +She had no friends. + +Lovers, yes. But all one-night stands, or a weekend at most, and then +they drifted off out of her life, and she out of theirs. Nor did she +want any further contact with any of her clients. She had no interest +in becoming friendly with a man who paid for sex. + +But she had no personal friends. Marilyn was lost to her at the +other side of an economic gulf; the other girls of the syndicate +were friendly, but most of them were too busy or too tired for any +after-hours socializing, and, in any event, Spinelli frowned on much +intimacy between girls of his syndicate. + +She hardly ever saw Spinelli, either. He summoned her to his apartment +every few weeks to stay the night with him, but that was all. He +treated the girls of his syndicate as his personal harem, but there was +always a fifty-dollar bonus in their pay envelope the week they had +slept with Spinelli. He slept with the girls, he told Laura, to make +sure they were staying in condition, and to keep tabs on the sort of +services they were offering the clients. Laura enjoyed the evenings +spent with him. But they were few and far between. + +She took to wandering around the city on her days off, drifting idly +from store-window to store-window, looking for something but not +knowing what it was. The idea of remaining home, alone, was repugnant +to her. The very act of being near people in the streets--even +strangers--gave her pleasure. + +That was how she met Dan Bittner. + +It was a Thursday afternoon, late in July. There had been a heat-wave +for the past two weeks, but it had abated somewhat, now, and Laura was +out strolling on a day off. She was walking up 57th Street, looking in +the windows, remembering that night so long ago--only three months, but +it seemed like centuries--when she had stared into these same windows +and had resolved someday to have money to buy beautiful things. + +She had the money now--all she needed, and more, to buy anything she +wanted. But it all seemed hollow, all the empty gaiety of the fine +restaurants and the gaudy musical shows. Lonely, bored, jaded, she +wandered up 57th, across Madison toward Fifth. While waiting for the +light to change, she happened to overhear a bitter quarrel just behind +her. + +"I don't care if you _do_ have tickets!" a girl was snapping +petulantly. "You can take the tickets and throw them away, for all I +care! I'm not going, Dan." + +"Listen, Ruth," a man's voice said mildly, "I paid six bucks apiece for +those tickets, and it's lousy of you to back out now. I don't want to +go alone, after all. Even if we've broken up, you could--" + +"You could have found someone else!" the girl retorted. "You think +you're going to shame me into going to that damn show with you, but I'm +not! Find another date somewhere! Or just throw the tickets away, if +you don't want to go. Goodbye!" + +"Ruth!" + +Laura paused, looking back. She saw a tall, very good-looking young +man of perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight, staring in anguish at a +well-dressed, angry-faced girl who was flouncing petulantly away. + +"_Ruth!_" he yelled again. He gestured in frustration, as if trying to +pull her back on invisible strings, but she was almost half a block +away, and moving faster as she picked up steam. + +Laura had no idea what made her speak up at that moment. But she was +surprised to hear her voice say, "Don't go after her, Dan. She isn't +worth getting excited over." + + + + + _CHAPTER NINE_ + + +An hour later, as they sat in a 58th Street restaurant together sipping +cocktails, Laura quietly retraced in her mind the pattern of events +that had brought them together. There had been the moment of mutual +surprise, first, there on the busy street corner as they stared at +each other, she surprised that she had spoken, he that he had been +spoken to. Then the nervous laughter from both of them, breaking the +awkwardness between two strangers on a Manhattan street, and his sudden +grin and his admission, "No, you're right--she _isn't_ worth getting +excited over." + +They might have parted at that moment and remained strangers forever, +but they let the conversation continue, and within seconds they were +no longer strangers, but Dan to her and Laura to him, and in a wild +exhilarated way he was inviting her to have dinner with him and go to +the show in Ruth's place, and she was telling him that she was free +that evening and would be delighted to accept, and that was how it +began. + +And over drinks he told her about the quarrel and why it had been. + +"Ruth's my fiancée," he explained. "Anyway, she _was_--up till about +three weeks ago, when we decided to call the whole thing off. We both +knew all along that we weren't right for one another but we just didn't +have the guts, or something, to admit we'd made a mistake." + +"Until three weeks ago." + +"Until three weeks ago, yes. Then we had a big hassle and decided to +nix it. Only we had these theater tickets for tonight, and we agreed +we'd have one last date after a cooling-off period and see if we +couldn't put things back together again." He let his shoulders slump. +"So she met somebody else during the three weeks. Hell, I _wanted_ +her to. And she did. But when I phoned her about the theater date, +she said she'd come anyway. And then she kept changing her mind, and +I kept phoning her. It wasn't so much that I was afraid of wasting +the tickets, as that I wanted to see her one last time, sort of get +everything wrapped up neatly. So she met me in the city, but right away +she started to back out--she said hello and goodbye practically in the +same breath. I kept arguing with her, telling her at least we could +have the one last date, but she didn't want to--" + +"And that's where I came in," Laura said. + +"Right." + +"How long had you gone with her?" + +He smiled sadly. "Two years and some," he said. "But it was all a +mistake, all wasted time. Dope that I am, I would have gone running +after her, too, if you hadn't spoken up then." + +"I'm not in the habit of butting into other people's quarrels," Laura +said quietly. "I don't know why I talked up just then." + +"I'm glad you did." + +"Are you really?" + +"Really. Because otherwise I'd have gone after Ruth and we'd still be +quarrelling. And I'd never have met _you_." + +He reached out across the table and squeezed her hand warmly. She +smiled at him. It made her feel good all over to think that there was +one man in New York City who was actually spending some time with her +simply because he wanted to, not because he had bought her for the +night and had to get his money's worth out of every minute. + +Using the skill she had acquired in her new profession, she drew him +out as they sipped their cocktails. His name was Dan Bittner; he was +twenty-eight, a bachelor, a design engineer for a big industrial firm. +Although he was seven years older than Laura, she regarded him inwardly +as practically a child. He gave off an appearance of innocence. She +suspected he might even be a virgin, improbable as it was to consider +it. + +He had never been married. Apparently there had been an unsuccessful +romance before the Ruth affair, and between the two affairs he had +simply used up the past four years without finding the warmth and +security he was looking for. He seemed terribly lonely. + +_Two lonely people meeting on a street corner in Manhattan_, Laura +thought. _And he's so shy, so gentle. I wonder what he'd do or think if +he found out how I earn my living._ + +Eventually, as she knew it would have to, the conversation came around +to her. When he asked her what she did, she replied glibly, "Oh, I'm a +minor editor on a fashion magazine." + +"Oh? Which one?" + +Just as glibly, she said, "You wouldn't know it. It's a trade-journal +kind of thing that doesn't have newsstand circulation. It pays well, +anyhow." + +"What kind of work do you do?" + +Laura had soaked up plenty of new information from her clients in +the magazine field. She said without hesitation, "I'm a kind of +high-salaried flunky. I do pasteups and write captions and check copy, +and stuff like that. All very very dreary." + +"Do you ever pose for the magazine?" + +"Oh, no, never." + +He smiled. "You should. You're prettier than any of the slabjawed +models that get into all those magazine advertisements." + +Laura tried to look confused. "By my boss' standards I'm hideous. My +face is too full, my figure is too big, I've got too much behind--" + +"Your boss is out of her mind." + +"My boss knows her audience," Laura said. By this time she had +conjured up a complete picture of the magazine where she allegedly +worked, complete with the chic offices on upper Madison Avenue and the +grimfaced bachelor-lady editor in the severely tailored mannish suits. +"You don't sell lady's fashions using girlie-magazine models. You use +walking skeletons. Don't ask me why." + +"Suppose I ask you what you want for dinner, instead. We're going to +miss the first act if we don't start stepping things up." + +It was a show that Laura had seen twice before--she had no control over +what kind of plays her clients picked to attend--but she hid that fact +from Bittner, and tried to act as though it was the first time she had +heard the songs or laughed at the gags. When they left the theater at +eleven, they were walking hand-in-hand. + +"I'd suggest a nightcap," he said, "only I don't know how late I'm +allowed to keep you out." + +"Don't worry. I sleep till all hours of the morning," Laura said. She +realized at once she had made a mistake, even before he reacted. + +"Doesn't your boss mind that?" he asked. + +She forced a brittle laugh. "Oh, I mean I can sleep till eight or so. +The office is just a couple of blocks from my apartment. And I only +need a few hours' sleep to keep me going." + +They stopped in for drinks, and, about midnight, Bittner took her home. +He seemed surprised that a mere sub-editor should be living in such a +handsome building in such a costly neighborhood, but he said nothing +about it. They rode upstairs in the elevator. Laura wondered whether or +not to invite him in. She wanted him desperately, but he did not seem +to be the sort of fellow who would want to go to bed with a girl on +a first date. Besides, if she kept him outside he might get the idea +that her apartment was only one or two rooms, which would be within the +budget of someone with her kind of job. + +They paused hesitantly outside the door. He was smiling down at her +from his height, not knowing what to say, and after a clumsy pause he +managed to get out, "Well, it's been a wonderful evening, Laura." + +"I'm glad, Dan. Maybe the day didn't start out so well for you, but at +least it ended well." + +"Will I be seeing you again?" + +"I hope so," she said, meaning it more than anything she had said to +anyone for a long time. + +"Is your number in the book?" + +She shook her head. "It's unlisted. Here, I'll write it down for you. +The best time to call me is--oh, around three or four in the afternoon." + +"At _home_?" + +Another slip, she thought. Retrieving the fumble, she said, "Yes, I'm +only at the office two-thirds of the day. I leave at three and finish +my work at home." + +"Nice work if you can get it. Can I have the office phone too?" + +Laura tensed. "Sorry, no. The boss is death on personal calls during +working hours." + +"Okay. I'll phone you here." He hesitated again. "Goodnight, Laura." + +"Goodnight, Dan." + +He made no motion toward leaving. He teetered for a second, and then +she moved toward him and he took her in his arms and put his lips to +hers, and she kissed him hard, with tongue and breasts and thighs, and +she felt his body jerk back in surprise at the passionate hunger of her +kiss. But she did not release him, and he joined in her fervor. Only +after a long moment did they separate. He looked dazed and shaken and +bewildered. + +"Goodnight," he whispered, and darted toward the elevator. + +Smiling, Laura let herself into her apartment. She laughed out loud +in sheer happiness. It had been a splendid evening, she thought. No +sex, no groping under her skirt, no hands kneading her lust-stiffened +nipples. Just pleasant companionship, two lonely people making each +other less lonely. + +She thought of Spinelli then, and it made her uneasy. Spinelli would +be furious if he knew. His girls weren't supposed to carry on little +flirtations of their own. They were supposed to reserve all of their +affection for the paying customers. Spinelli would hit the ceiling +if he found out that on her day off Laura had indulged in a little +innocent hand-holding with an unhappy young man. + +_But I'll keep on seeing him_, she told herself determinedly. _He's the +only decent man I've met since I came to New York, and I want to see +more of him. Spinelli can't stop me. He doesn't own me. As long as I +keep his customers happy, why can't I have a little happiness myself?_ + +She began to construct a little daydream. Dan Bittner was obviously on +the verge of falling in love with her, she thought. Perhaps he would +ask her to marry him. And she would accept, and would tell Spinelli the +end of her employment had come. She would go to live with Dan in his +little apartment, somewhere, and they would have children, and he would +never know or need to know of her past. She would simply stuff the +experiences and sins of the past several months into a compartment of +her mind that she would never open. + +It seemed pretty enough--the little apartment, the babies, the +domesticity. He needed someone to love him, and she needed love too. +They were meant for each other, or so it looked. + +_But it's not fair_, she thought. _He's a good kid. And what am I? I +used to be a cheap whore, and now I'm an expensive one, but I'm still +a whore. And someday maybe we'll go dancing and one of my old clients +will recognize me, and while I'm in the powder room he'll go over to +Dan and ask him if I'm still as good a lay as I used to be. Or maybe +Spinelli will be angry because I'm leaving him, and to get even he'll +send Dan a copy of his photograph album a week after the wedding. If +Dan ever found out the truth about me, his whole world would collapse. +And if I married him I'd live in constant fear that the truth would +somehow be exposed._ + +All the same, when he called her a few days later, she greeted him +warmly. It was four in the afternoon, and she was just beginning to +dress for a dinner date she had that evening with a bachelor wheat +magnate from Iowa, in town for a week and anxious to whoop things up +with one of the bustier of Phil Spinelli's girls. She was going to wear +the deep-cut dress, and the half-bra that seemed not to be there at all +when she wore it. + +"When are we going to see each other again?" Dan asked. "I'm free every +night from now on." + +Laura thought fast. "How about Tuesday? That's a good night for me." + +"Why not Saturday?" + +"No, sorry, Dan. No can do. I'm--busy." + +He sounded hurt. "Well, Tuesday will have to do for me, then. Suppose I +pick you up at your place and we'll take a drive out into Connecticut +for dinner and a show?" + +"Sounds fine," she said. "You make all the arrangements and anything +you get will be great with me." + +They talked a little while longer; he seemed unhappy about what +he assumed were other dates she had, but she eluded any direct +questioning. _How can I tell him that I'll be working a convention over +the weekend and serving as a bedwarmer for twenty or thirty middle-aged +lechers? Let him think what he wants. At least he won't ever know the +truth._ + +She arranged with Spinelli to take the following Tuesday off, and +Dan picked her up at six. She was dressed a little daringly, that +night, in a provocative off-the-shoulder blouse, and in his shy way +Bittner goggled at the exposed square inches of bosom without making +any specific comment. Laura smiled and kissed him as she got into his +little foreign car. + +"I've got reservations at a restaurant just off the Merritt Parkway," +he told her. "And tickets for the Village Playhouse in New Canaan. +They're doing Shaw tonight, _Man and Superman_." + +"Fine," she said. "I've never seen it." + +She nestled close to him as he drove. The little car clung bumpily to +the road, going up and down with every tar-line or pebble. They talked +as he drove, mostly about him, his work, his impatience to have a +second date with her. + +He was definitely more forward than he had been on the first date, +letting his hands rest lightly on her bare shoulders for a moment as +he helped her off with her jacket, and holding her hand during the +play and even slipping his arm around her. Considering how most of +her escorts behaved, though, Laura could only regard him as almost +comically reserved. It was a novelty, though, to have her body +respected. A very pleasant novelty. + +On the way home, though, there was a nasty jolt for her, one that +nearly wrecked everything. + +It was eleven o'clock, and Bittner had tuned in the news broadcast. +The commentator, droning along, said suddenly, "_Police are continuing +to probe the so-called Hotelroom Murder Case, and several suspects are +being questioned as a result of the discovery of the strangled body of +Marilyn Rivers, twenty-two, in a hotel room on West 57th Street early +this morning_--" + +"_Oh, God!_" Laura gasped. + +"--_informants suggested that the dead woman, allegedly a prostitute, +was strangled by a customer after a quarrel over payment. Residents of +the hotel heard shouting coming from the room shortly after midnight, +and a 'tall, heavy-set' man reportedly was seen in the hotel just +afterwards. Meanwhile, in juvenile court this afternoon_--" + +Laura reached out and snapped the radio off. She was shaking +uncontrollably. + +"What's the matter?" Bittner asked, startled by her behavior. + +"That--that news bulletin. The murder in the hotel room--" Laura sobbed +without tears. She could not speak. + +Growing more astonished, Bittner said, "Didn't you hear about it +before? It was in all the afternoon papers, and on the radio--" + +"I didn't see them." + +"Well, anyway, why are you so upset? Honestly, Laura, you look like +you've just lost your best friend or something." + +The savage, if unintentional, irony of his words struck home deeply. +Laura looked away, burying her face in her arm, and fought her way back +from the edge of hysteria inch by inch, telling herself that she had to +regain her self-control, _had_ to, _had_ to.... + +After a moment she said in a hollow voice, "I don't know what happened +to me. I guess I was just struck with pity. Some poor girl trying +to scrape up a living taking men to a hotel room, and one of them +strangling her because it was easier than paying her the five dollars +she wanted from him--" + +"It happens all the time, sweet. These streetwalkers never know when +they're likely to get slashed or strangled or beaten up. There are +some men who actually enjoy beating them up, you know." He slipped one +arm around her shoulders, driving with the other. "Don't be so upset, +though, honey. After all, people die every day. And this girl wasn't +anything society needed. She was probably full of disease, and stupid +and ugly besides, and--" + +"Stop it." + +"But--" + +"_Stop it! Stop it!_" + +Bittner was growing more and more confused. "Honey, I wish I knew what +got into you all of a sudden. Sure, I feel sorry for that girl too, but +you're carrying it a little too far, aren't you?" + +"Maybe I am," Laura forced herself to say. "I--I'm very tired, that's +what it is. Overstrung." + +"We'll be home soon. A good night's rest and you'll be as good as new." + +They lapsed into silence. Laura heard the steady pounding of her +heart, and gradually her mind accepted the awful words. How could I +tell him? she asked herself. _How could I explain that she WAS my best +friend, that she picked me up off the street when I was sick, that she +slept in the same bed with me, that she was good and kind to me? How +could I let him know that the girl he loves had been a friend of a +skinny little whore who was murdered in a dirty hotel room?_ + +There was no way she could explain to him the reason for her +outburst--no way that he could accept, at any rate. She grew calmer, +and a feeling of pity replaced the earlier horror at the news. + +They parted quickly at Laura's door. Bittner made no attempt to come +inside. They kissed, but it was without the fervor of their first. Then +he smiled and was gone, and she let herself into the apartment. + +Switching on the television set, she picked up a late newscast. They +were going over the murder story again. They showed a tattered snapshot +of Marilyn, her own photo from her wallet. She looked thin and harried +in the photo; it was a good likeness. They showed a photo of the room, +with the sheet-covered body on the bed. They discussed the various +suspects who had been rounded up. That was all. By tomorrow, the +suspects would be released, the murder forgotten. The law did not waste +much energy solving the murders of whores. + +Laura shut off the set and poured herself a stiff drink. She felt +overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt, guilt for having failed to keep her +promise to Marilyn. They had not spoken since the first week of her +employment by Spinelli. And now they never would again. It had been +almost inevitable, Laura thought, that Marilyn would end this way, +snuffed out, her troubles over. She was so fragile, the night so dark, +her clients so brutal. + +And now she was dead. Laura downed her drink and prepared for bed. It +had been awkward, then, when two of her worlds had impinged, when her +grief for Marilyn had startled the man who thought she was innocent. +Confusion made Laura's head buzz. She realized now that she was in love +with Bittner--who quite probably thought she was a virgin. + +_I'll destroy him if I don't break up with him now_, she thought. _If +he ever learns how I've strung him along, he'll be crushed. It's a +cruel world. A cold, nasty world where people set traps for themselves, +themselves and each other. Some people sell themselves, others buy--and +the good people, the innocent people, somehow they get caught up in it +all and are ground to bits._ + +_God help us_, she thought. _God help us all._ + + + + + _CHAPTER TEN_ + + +There was nothing about Marilyn in the paper the next day. It was +yesterday's murder, already stale. And, in any event, it was a very +small tragedy, meaning nothing to anyone, except for one mourner at the +other side of the city who could not tell anyone why she felt grief for +an unimportant dead whore. Laura flipped bleakly through the papers +and, finding nothing, threw them away. Marilyn had ceased to matter to +the world. + +The worst of it all, Laura thought, is that the victim didn't +necessarily have had to been Marilyn. It could have been any of the +girls who worked the 59th Street-Central Park region. + +_It could have been me_, she thought with a little quiver of horror. + +It could have been, so easily. Unbidden, the scene formed on the screen +of her imagination. There she was, dressed shabbily--not the way she +dressed these days--standing in front of the park, waiting, waiting. It +was late in the day; she had a few dollars in her handbag, and she was +tired and sweaty from a long day's work. As the twilight shadows fall, +a client approaches--a big man in a stevedore's cap, hulking, unshaven. +She wants to refuse him, but he is insistent, picking her up with a +quick line, plenty of filthy words. They go to the hotel. He orders her +to undress, standing back and admiring the pink-tipped globes of her +breasts, the white soft skin of her thighs, the gently rippling flesh +of her full buttocks. He drops his trousers: he throws himself down on +her, squeezing her tender breasts with calloused hands, thrusting his +body against her, taking her with brutal speed and lack of tenderness. + +And then, afterward, rising from her naked body with his lust +satisfied, he reaches for her handbag, takes out the money she had +earned that day. From the dresser, he takes the bill he had given to +her only a few minutes before. She rises, protests, shouts shrill +abuse at him. He laughs, turns toward her with a cruel smile on his +face, seizes her. Thick fingers bite into the soft flesh around her +throat. The heavy paws contract. She claws at the tightening hands, +unable to remove them, and he shakes her like a doll, and the pain goes +ripping down like a red-hot ingot thrust into her breasts, like a bolt +of lightning in her loins, and her legs grow weak and her eyes begin +to bulge and she hears his booming laughter as life slowly ebbs from +her.... + +Laura shuddered. + +_It might have been me. Marilyn used to talk about perverts who enjoyed +hitting or choking prostitutes. I was lucky, that's all. I got out in +time, into a different league where they don't play so rough._ + +The telephone rang. Laura snatched it up eagerly, grateful for anything +that would serve to interrupt her mood of morbid depression. + +It was Spinelli. + +"How's my favorite redhead this morning, eh?" + +"Surviving," Laura said cheerlessly. She wasn't in a mood to make +conversation. + +"That's all? Just _surviving_? Chick, you know it's against the house +rules just to _survive_. You've got to live, live, _live_!" + +"Not today, Phil. I'm not in a very lively mood, I guess." + +"After a day off?" + +"I'll perk up. I--I've got a headache. That's it, a terrible headache." + +"You going to be okay by tonight? Take some aspirin, or something. +You've got to be your old sparkling self this evening." + +"Where am I supposed to be working?" + +"Hotel Whittier. There's a banker named McDermott in Suite 1411 who +wants company." + +"Dinner date?" + +"No," Spinelli said. "You go to his room around nine o'clock. No +dinner, no show. As long as you've got a headache, it's just as well +that way, yes?" + +"I suppose so," Laura agreed. "You know anything about this McDermott +that I ought to know?" + +"Not much. Just that he's loaded with dough, and you stand to pick up a +nice bit of change. The last time I supplied him with a girl, he tipped +her two bills. I'm not guaranteeing a repeat, but keep it in mind." + +"Don't worry, I will!" + +"He's going to be in town for a week," Spinelli added. "When he +contacted me, he implied that he might be interested in making use +of the same girl for several nights. Be nice to him and you may have +earned yourself a fat piece of change by the time the week's over." + +Spinelli hung up. Laura walked to the window and stared out onto the +river. She thought about Dan. He was so good, so gentle--and in for +such a shock when and if he found out the truth. + +_Maybe there's a way out_, she thought. _Maybe I can slide out of this +filthy profession and talk Dan into moving far away, to San Francisco +maybe, or Seattle, or someplace else thousands of miles from here. +Thousands of miles from these terrible memories._ + +She went into the bathroom and stripped for her morning shower. +Her body, reflected in the full-length mirror against the bathroom +door, looked young and vibrantly healthy. Her breasts seemed to have +grown more ripe since the loss of her virginity; the two full globes +jutted proudly forward, heavy bowls of soft flesh tipped with dark +reddish-pink. It was a wide-hipped, strong body she had. A woman's +body, a body built for childbearing, with those big breasts and broad +hips. + +But call-girls don't have children, she thought. + +They take precautions. And in the rare instances when the precautions +fail, they employ the best abortionists money can buy to deal with the +little accident. Spinelli kept a little book in which he recorded the +dates of each of his girls' menstrual periods, and when the period +started getting a couple of days overdue he began asking questions, +and if it got as much as ten days overdue he would whisk the girl off +to his doctor for an examination and tests. Spinelli didn't want any +of his prize livestock being put out of commission for a year or so +by a pregnancy. He didn't want to run the risk that childbirth would +alter the firm roundness of a valuable pair of breasts, or paint blue +vein-lines on a much-admired pair of thighs. He didn't want his girls +busy with diapers and perambulators when they should be earning money. + +No, Laura thought. Call-girls don't have children. + +She wondered what it would be like to have life swelling in her womb, +to have her breasts grow stiff and heavy with milk, to experience the +hundred inner changes of pregnancy. She wondered what it would be like +to be the mother of Dan's children. + +_I could swing it_, she thought. _It's only three months since McCarten +raped me. I could manage somehow to forget all the things I've done in +those three months. I could wipe the slate clean and start all over +again, fresh ... with Dan...._ + +She stepped under the shower, setting the controls for a fine +needle-spray of cold water. The little needles lanced her skin with +exquisite pinpoint pain. The trick, she thought, was to get out--to +draw the line and say, After tonight no more, and to stick with it. To +resist the lure of the $500-a-week salary and the hundred-dollar tips. +To quit before it became too late ever to break the bond. + +She had a good reason now. Dan. A decent, honest man who loved her, or +who seemed to. + +_Get out now_, she told herself. _You've got the best motive for +quitting that you'll ever have, and you haven't been in it so long that +it's changed you._ + +She turned off the water and left the shower and towelled herself +vigorously dry. Decision crystalized; she walked to the phone, grabbed +up the receiver, began to dial Spinelli's number, to tell him it was +all over, that he would have to send some other girl to amuse Banker +McDermott this evening at the Whittier. + +She got as far as the second letter of Spinelli's telephone number. +Then, weakening, she paused, staring at the dial. + +_What am I doing?_ she asked herself in horror. _Suppose Dan isn't +interested in marrying me? I can't assume anything. I mustn't rush +blindly ahead._ + +Slowly, Laura replaced the receiver. Before she burned all the +bridges that linked her with Spinelli, she would have to make sure of +Dan's intentions. In the meantime, she would have to continue taking +assignments as usual. + +She walked through the livingroom, out onto her terrace, spread out +her robe and lay down nude on top of it. At this hour of the day, the +diagonal rays of the sun slanted over the terrace wall. No one could +see her as she sunbathed here, and she had come to enjoy the daily hour +in the sun. + +Stretching out comfortably, Laura turned her breasts and loins to the +sun and basked in the warm radiance. She had tanned quickly, all over +her body. It gave her a pantherishly sensual appearance that attracted +much approval from her clients. Men accustomed to women whose skins +were fishbelly-white between their breasts and their thighs were +delighted with Laura's golden-brown breasts and buttocks and belly. + +After a while, she turned over, lying on her stomach while the sun +caressed her buttocks. There in the warmth, all tension departed. She +knew what her direction was, now. As soon as she was sure of Dan's +intentions, she would sever all connection with Spinelli. And they +would go far, far away, and she would bear him children. + +She even became reconciled to the death of Marilyn. The poor girl was +out of her misery, now--no more walking the streets, no more days of +humiliation and loneliness. Marilyn would have been a prostitute to +the end of her days, and life would have become more and more of a +bitter struggle for her as what little erotic appeal she had dwindled +inexorably with the years. Now she was spared the anguish of age. + +After an hour of sunbathing, Laura came in, feeling relaxed and +glowing. Her maid had arrived and was tidying up the apartment. Laura +prepared a light lunch for herself. + +It was a relaxing day. She had awakened early, and she did not have +to begin work until nine in the evening, so she had a full day for +shopping and reading and decorating her apartment. She went out to eat +around seven, dressed in slacks and a blouse, and had a light meal at +a delicatessen on Second Avenue. By seven-thirty she was back in her +apartment, and an hour and a quarter later she was in a taxi on the way +to the Whittier and her rendezvous with Mr. McDermott. + +The Whittier was an old-line hotel on Fifth Avenue, very elegant, very +tasteful. Laura entered the lobby as though she were a visiting member +of the Royal Family, as Spinelli had instructed her long ago. ("Never +walk into a fancy hotel as though you're a whore, or they'll throw you +out. Make them think you're Queen Victoria herself and you'll get a +warm welcome.") + +Regally entering the elevator, Laura said in loftily sophisticated +tones, "Fourteen, please." + +The elevator boy practically bowed. The car rose swiftly. + +The hallway was floored with plush carpeting that seemed to be a foot +deep. Laura walked briskly along the corridor, watching the numbers +descend, until she came to 1411. She knocked. + +The door opened. "Hello," McDermott said. "You're Laura, I take it?" + +"That's right." + +"I'm Robert McDermott. Call me Bob. And come in, do, come in!" + +Laura stepped in and let McDermott help her off with her jacket. He was +a man of medium height, probably about fifty; his hair was thin, and +what there was of it was white, but his face was unlined and his pink +cheeks were pleasantly plump. He had pale blue eyes and the friendly, +open look of an aging cherub. + +He hung up the jacket and turned to survey her. Laura had dressed +well for the occasion, in a tailored suit over a tight silk blouse. +Everything tasteful, nothing on vulgar display. When the time came for +McDermott to see her body, he would see it, but she was determined not +to flaunt acres of bare bosom at him as an appetizer beforehand. + +"I've taken the liberty of ordering some liquor," McDermott said. +"Would you care for a highball, Laura?" + +"If you do." + +"By all means! Will it be Scotch, rye, bourbon? I've got a very +well-stocked little bar here, as you see. Or if you prefer some liqueur +or brandy, we could ask room service--" + +"Rye will do," Laura said, smiling. "And some ginger ale, please." + +McDermott fixed the drink for her. She waited while he prepared his own. + +"To a wonderful evening," she said, lifting the glass toward his. + +"Amen to that," McDermott said. "Cheers." + +She took a shallow sip. He drank more deeply. Putting the glass down, +he stared with sudden intensity at her. + +"How old are you?" he asked abruptly. + +"Over twenty-one, Mr. McDermott." + +"I should hope so. But not very far over, eh? And call me Bob. How old +do you think _I_ am, eh?" + +"I'm sure I couldn't guess." + +"I'm sure you can. Come on, girl, don't be so afraid of offending me! +Take a guess!" + +"Fifty?" + +"Fifty-eight!" he crowed. "You wouldn't believe it, would you? Not a +wrinkle on my face. If I still had my hair I could pass for forty, I +bet." He took another deep gulp of the highball. "I'm still a young man +in many ways," he said with sudden seriousness. "But my wife is an old +woman. Two years younger than I am, but you'd think she was seventy. +It's a terrible thing, Laura, when a wife grows old faster than her +husband does. It's made my life miserable. Miserable." + +Laura said nothing. She had been through this sort of thing +before--the unhappy middle-aged man who took almost as great a pleasure +in baring his personal problems to his mistress-for-a-night as he did +in making love to her. The best tactic, she had discovered, was to +remain sympathetically silent. Men love a good listener. + +McDermott went on, "We've been married thirty-six years. Can you +imagine that? I married her the day I graduated from Harvard. +Look--here's her picture, one that I took in the spring of that year. +Tell me what you think of her." + +McDermott groped in his wallet and delicately pulled out a snapshot. +Laura took it from him. It was old and faded, turning brown with the +years, but the smiling girl it showed still had kept the beauty of that +day nearly forty years ago. She was slender, with a classic serenity of +feature and elegant posture. + +"She's lovely," Laura said quietly. + +"Yes. _Wasn't_ she? Take a look at this one now. On a cruise ship in +the Caribbean last winter." + +The second picture showed McDermott and an elderly woman standing at +the rail of the ship. McDermott, wearing a polo shirt and Bermuda +shorts, looked gay and youthful. But the woman--! + +It was possible to detect the underlying features of the girl of that +time-browned snapshot. But only barely possible. Thirty-six years had +wrapped a layer of wrinkled, sagging flesh around the classic chin. +They had rounded the square shoulders, had thickened the Grecian nose, +had made coarse flabby lumps of flesh out of the smiling lips. The eyes +had lost their sparkle; the hair was frizzy and unkempt. The woman +looked like McDermott's mother, not his wife. Laura shuddered. + +"It's hard to believe," she whispered, as she gave the picture back. + +"Of course, it's a lot more striking to you, seeing the two pictures +side by side. I've watched it happen gradually, so I'm not as rocked +by the contrast. But it's an awful thing. Awful." He gulped down his +drink. "How about a refill?" + +"Not yet, thanks," Laura smiled. "I've still got a way to go on this +one." + +"Of course. Mind if I--?" + +"Not at all," Laura said. + +As he prepared a second drink for himself, McDermott said, "We've +got three children. Bob Junior, he's thirty-three, a vice-president +at the bank. A little too snobbish, but otherwise a fine boy. And +my son Richard, he's thirty, an Air Force officer. Joined the ROTC +in college and liked it so well he made a career out of it. I don't +see much of him. The girl's name is Elaine. She's twenty-seven, I +think. Her husband's a professor at Yale. What a bitch she is! I think +she's slept with half the student body in New Haven. Well, that's her +business--hers and her husband's. But those are my children. There was +a fourth one, too. Donald. Also an Air Force man. Killed in Korea, he +was. He'd be almost twenty-nine, if he'd lived. My wife turned into +an old woman the day we got the telegram about him from the Defense +Department." McDermott scowled. "Well, I was upset too. But it's almost +eight years, now! I'm used to the idea that Don is dead. Elizabeth +isn't. She still wakes up at night and goes into his room." McDermott +looked up, sudden anguish in the baby-blue eyes. In a hoarse voice he +said, "Do you know how long it's been since my own wife has slept with +me? Not since the day Don died. Not since the middle of the Korean War. +You probably weren't even going to High School yet, back then. And she +hasn't let me touch her since that day. Not that she'd been any ball +of fire in the bedroom for years. Not that she ever was. You know how +New England girls are raised, or at least how they _were_ raised back +then? The mothers tell them that sex is evil. They tell them that no +good woman possibly can enjoy sex. They tell the girls to sleep with +their husbands and make children, but once the children are all born +you don't have to sleep with the dope you married any more. God, I'd +like to strangle that old bitch, Elizabeth's mother!" McDermott shook +his head heavily. "I'm talking too damn much, I guess." + +"I don't mind," Laura said softly. "If it makes you feel better to get +these things off your chest, I don't mind listening at all." + +"You're a good girl," McDermott said. His voice was getting a little +thick, and his pink face was growing flushed. Laura suspected that he +had begun drinking long before her arrival. "You see why I live for +these visits to New York? I can't do anything up in Boston, oh, God, +no! If I ever got caught there, they'd practically crucify me on the +Common. But four times a year I come to New York and I can live again." +His eyes sought hers eagerly. "Four times a year I can have some +genuine affection and sympathy. Sure, I have to pay for it, but that's +better than not having it at all." + +He gulped down the second drink and put the glass on the table. +"Don't let me have any more," he said. "I want to stay sober enough to +appreciate you. You're a very beautiful girl, Laura. I need some beauty +in my life. I earn a hundred thousand a year, you know? More than some +people make their whole lives. And I'm unhappy. Funny, isn't it?" + +"Money doesn't always make people happy." + +"Damn right it doesn't! I see these people who work for me--tellers, +they make $60 a week maybe. And they go home to their wives and lay +them every night. Every goddam night!" He reddened. "Sorry if I get a +little coarse. It's the drinks. But these people, they bang their wives +all night long, on their lousy $60 a week. It's all they have, is fun +in bed, but I don't even have that. I just have my Cadillac and my big +house and my coupons to clip and my stone-cold bitch of a wife. Come +here, Laura." + +She put her glass down and walked across the room toward the couch. He +rose, a little unsteadily, as she came close. + +He let his hands rest lightly on her shoulders, and smiled at her. + +"While I was waiting for you," he said, "I made up my mind that I +wasn't going to exploit you tonight. We both know why you're here, +but I promised myself I wouldn't hop into bed with you before eleven +o'clock at the earliest. I'd show some restraint. I'd sit around and +make polite conversation, and pretend that we were good friends who +had known each other for years. But I can't do it. It isn't even ten +o'clock, but I can't hold out." + +Laura smiled tenderly. "I understand," she said. + +"I really believe you do. Let's go into the bedroom, shall we?" + +They went in together, hand-in-hand. Laura felt a tremendous wave of +pity for this man, this millionaire whose life was so lonely. She +almost forgot that this was a cold business transaction, that he was +buying her for a night at a fixed price. She felt almost like an angel +of mercy, performing an act of kindness. + +They stood by the bed, and she pressed her body against his and he +kissed her, hesitantly at first, then more passionately as his desire +mounted and his natural reserve diminished. She realized he was +hesitant, and she took his hands and put them on her blouse, and he +cupped her breasts for a moment before beginning to unbutton her. He +removed her blouse and, with shaking hands, unhooked her bra, and she +heard his little sharp indrawn hiss of delight at the first sight of +her bare breasts. He kissed her stiffening nipples tenderly. + +"Lovely," he muttered. "Lovely." + +She helped him undress her, and within moments further she was nude and +he was undressing too. His body was fleshy without being fat; he had +obviously taken pains to keep himself in trim, and it certainly did not +seem like the body of a man of fifty-eight. + +Naked, they embraced, and he carried her down to the bed. + +"Be kind to me, Laura," he whispered. A little shuddering sigh of +longing burst from him, and with sudden frenzy he clasped her, his +hands gripping her breasts tightly, and she surrendered to him. He +gave one deep-throated gasp of delight and uncontrollable desire, +and almost immediately reached his release and sank down limply +between her breasts, his breath coming in harsh bursts, and he said +apologetically, "It happened so fast, Laura. It happened so fast!" + +She stroked his back consolingly. + + + + + _CHAPTER ELEVEN_ + + +They rested for a while, and then, about an hour later, vigor returned +to him and they began to make love again. This time McDermott's +lust was less urgent, his passion more easily restrained, and their +lovemaking lasted longer. When it was over, McDermott switched off the +light and they got under the covers. He curled up against her, his face +nestling in her bosom, his mouth pressed to one hard little nipple. +Within moments he was asleep. Laura smiled at him in the darkness, this +unhappy man at her breast, old enough to be her father but nestling +there as though he were her child. She adjusted her body to fit his; he +muttered something unintelligible and she joined him in sleep. + +At half past seven the next morning, the room telephone rang. Laura +swam up rapidly through layers of sleep, and nudged McDermott awake. + +"The phone," she said. + +"Answer it," he mumbled. + +"No," she said. "It wouldn't be right. You'd better get it." + +He nodded dimly and, leaning across her body, picked it up. After a +moment, he said, "Thank you," and replaced the receiver. "It was the +desk," he explained. "I asked them to phone me early so I wouldn't +miss my appointments." He sat up on the edge of the bed, thumbing his +eyes. A golden-gray stubble had sprouted on his cheeks. He looked +rumpled and older, now, in the morning. He smiled at her. "Christ, +but you're a vision, Laura. Lying there with that red hair all over +the pillow, and all your skin showing. You're the only woman I've ever +known who could look beautiful at half past seven in the morning." He +leaned over, planting a kiss just below her navel. Squeezing her thighs +affectionately, he rose and shambled off toward the bathroom. Laura +heard the shower running, and then, a little while later, there was the +sound of an electric razor. When McDermott came out, he looked much +more capable of facing the morning. But his eyes were bloodshot. + +"The annex is yours, my dear," he said airily. + +Laura showered quickly, just to refresh herself a bit. When she came +out, pink and scrubbed, there was a towel around her, but McDermott +made her remove it. "Delicious," he said. "Delicious. I'd rather +eat you for breakfast than a grapefruit. What lovely skin you have. +Elizabeth had skin like yours ... once." He scowled. "I keep talking +about her. I must be boring you." + +"Do you have many important appointments this morning?" Laura asked. + +"Oh, God, yes. I've got to be at the Chase Manhattan by half past nine, +and then there's lunch with the Morgan Guaranty fellow at noon, and +after that--" He shook his head. "It's a busy life, this business of +money managing. But I suppose other people work just as hard, with a +good deal less of a reward." He took a starched shirt from a drawer. +"Will you join me for breakfast at the hotel coffee shop?" he asked. + +"Of course," she said. + +No one looked askance at them as they rode down together and went into +the handsomely-appointed coffee shop. It was a _very_ dignified and +conservative hotel--which meant that the guests were free to do as they +pleased, so long as they did it in a dignified and conservative manner. + +Over coffee, McDermott said, "I'd like to see you again tonight, Laura. +Is it possible?" + +She shrugged. "If it were up to me, I'd say yes. But I don't arrange my +own assignments. You'll have to--go through channels." She did not like +to mention Spinelli by name. + +McDermott smiled faintly. "All right. I'll try to arrange it. You're a +very wonderful girl, do you know that, Laura?" + +"I enjoy making people happy," she said. + +"You've made me _very_ happy. And I'm looking forward to spending much +more time with you. But just in case your schedule doesn't permit me to +see you again, I'd like to give you something just as a little token of +gratitude for the wonderful time you gave me last night." He reached +into his jacket pocket and produced a sealed envelope. He slid it along +the table to Laura, who slipped it into her purse without looking at it +at all, smiled, and murmured a "Thank you." + +They parted, then, McDermott entering a taxi to take him downtown to +the financial district, Laura hailing a cab to take her eastward to her +apartment. Only when she was home did she open McDermott's envelope. +Wrapped in a blank sheet of Whittier stationery, she discovered three +crisp, fresh hundred-dollar bills. + +She gasped. Three bland, smiling images of Benjamin Franklin's face +looked up at her. + +It was a phenomenal tip for a night's work. Even if she saw McDermott +again tonight and he gave her nothing additional, she would have no +cause to complain about a lack of generosity. It meant that at the +very least she would have $800 this week. Money ceased to have meaning +when it cascaded in at such a rate. She closed her eyes, thinking of +her burgeoning bank account, wondering whether she would ever find the +courage to break away from so lucrative a way of life. + +Shortly after noon, Spinelli called. + +"You must really have bowled McDermott over," he said. "He phoned in +giving an enthusiastic report on you, and practically demanding that I +let him have you for the rest of the week." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"I had you lined up for the camera convention tonight and tomorrow," +Spinelli said. "But McDermott was practically drooling into the +receiver, so I've made some switches. Tania and May will work the +convention, and you'll be with McDermott tonight and tomorrow, and +maybe the day after that if he's still in town. I figure it doesn't +hurt to please him a little extra. He's got plenty of influential +friends." + +"Okay," Laura said. "What time tonight?" + +"He wants to take you to dinner. Be there around six, I guess. Did he +give you a tip last night?" + +"He sure did," Laura said. + +"How much?" + +"Three," she said. + +Spinelli was silent for a moment. Then he whistled and said, "You sure +_must_ have impressed him. What did you do, mix Spanish Fly in your +perfume?" + +"I listened to all his troubles, and then I went to bed with him," +Laura said. "That puts me one notch up on a psychiatrist. _They_ just +listen to your troubles." + +Spinelli laughed. "I think I ought to tell you that McDermott isn't the +only one who's been raving about you. Your public is wild about you, +kid." + +"I'm flattered, I suppose." + +"You ought to be. And--just between you and me--you may be in for a +little elevation of the base salary, if you keep going the way you've +been going. How does it feel to be rich, huh?" + +"I don't mind at all." + +"Maybe you'd rather be in the chorus line on Ed Sullivan's show?" + +"Thanks all the same, Phil. I'll stay where I am." + +"Smart girl. You know what's good for you." + +Hanging up, Laura bit her lip. So Spinelli was thinking of giving her +a raise! Pretty soon she would be the top attraction on his list, that +meant. She was already the best-looking girl in his organization, and +as she gained in poise and sophistication she was increasingly in +demand among the rich clients Spinelli served. A raise would make it +harder and harder for her to give up the life. If she went to $600 a +week--why, that was $30,000 a year! And tips were averaging four or +five hundred a week more. A few years of income on that scale and she +would be independent for life, if she invested her earnings wisely. + +At half past three that afternoon there was a call from Dan. + +"I've been trying to reach you for two days," he said. "I phoned around +dinnertime yesterday, but there was no answer." + +"I was out," she said. + +"You're a hard girl to find, sometimes. When am I going to see you +again?" + +"When would you like to?" + +"Tonight?" + +She paused. "I'm sorry, Dan. Tonight's out. I--have a tremendous amount +of work to catch up on." + +"Tomorrow, then?" + +She thought of McDermott. Sadly she said, "I hate to do this to you, +honey. But I'm going to be busy tomorrow too, and most likely the day +after." + +"Catching up on important work?" The sarcasm in his voice was only +faintly disguised. + +"Yes," she said. + +"Listen, honey, you don't have to try to soften things. If you're +dating somebody else those nights, you can come out and tell me the +truth. I won't fold up and die." + +"I'm working, Dan," she said. "Honestly." _It's the truth, isn't it?_ +she asked herself savagely. + +"All right. Have it your way. I'm not going to try to force myself on +you." + +"Look, Dan--darling--believe me, I'd give anything to be able to see +you the next couple of nights. But I can't. Absolutely. It's impossible +to explain, but I--I can't." + +"Okay," he said mildly. "I told you, I'm not out to force the issue. +But I do want to see you. I've some very important things to discuss +with you. In person." + +"Monday?" she said. + +"Monday's fine. Pick you up at six or so for dinner?" + +"Swell, darling!" + +"Till Monday, then." He blew her a kiss. She returned it, and they hung +up. + +Immediately she phoned Spinelli and requested a day off for Monday. +He was reluctant, but she pinned him down to the admission that she +was entitled to several more days off that month, and that he had not +scheduled her yet for anything beyond the weekend. + +"How come it's so important?" he asked. + +"It isn't, really. Just that I feel like taking a breather." + +"You had a breather just a couple of days ago. You seem awfully eager +for another one." + +"I've got some things to catch up on, Phil." + +"Oh? Say, now, you aren't involved in anything on your own, are you? +You know I don't take much to free enterprise in this organization." + +"Would I jeopardize myself by anything as dumb as that?" she asked +angrily. + +"Women do peculiar things when they think they're in love," Spinelli +said with calm menace in his voice. "We've been getting along swell, +Laura. I wouldn't want you to mess up a splendid arrangement." + +"All I want is a day off on Monday, Phil. If you're going to imagine +all sorts of wild affairs--" + +"Okay. Okay. Take Monday off," Spinelli said brusquely. "I withdraw all +insinuations. Friends?" + +"Friends," she said. + +When she put down the phone, she felt a sharp pang of guilt and fright. +_I'm getting into this thing deeper and deeper_, she thought. Spinelli, +who was anything but a fool, was beginning to get suspicious. It would +be only an elementary precaution now for him to station a detective on +her tail to watch her after-hours activities. Spinelli would find out +about Dan that way. + +She knew what would happen. Spinelli would do nothing to her--not +directly. But Dan would be visited one night and the facts of life +would be explained to him, perhaps with a baseball bat, perhaps with a +knife. And she would be told quietly not to make a second mistake. + +She had lied to Dan, and she had lied to Spinelli. The tangle of her +lies was increasing--perhaps, she thought bleakly, it would soon weave +itself into a noose for her throat. Dan had to talk to her about +"something personal," and she had a good idea that it meant something +to do with a ring. But how would she elude Spinelli's vigilance? How +would she ever break free of him? She was too valuable now for Spinelli +to let her go without an effort. And he could so easily keep her, +simply by telling the truth about her to Dan. + +There was no way out. + +There was nothing to do but live from one day to the next, and hope +against hope that--somehow--everything would turn out all right. + +Fear and despair chilled her. Spinelli was urbane and amiable, but the +urbanity was only a mask for the ruthlessness beneath the surface. She +could not hope to defeat him in any sort of struggle. + +The wise thing would be to give up Dan, thus avoiding the conflict with +Spinelli and the chance of harm to him or of possible exposure. But she +could not give him up. He was the one chance she had--perhaps the only +one she ever would have--to escape into a decent life. He was the first +man she had known who tried neither to buy her nor to rape her. He was +the only one who regarded her as a human being, not as a two-legged sex +machine. She loved him for that. + +She loved him. + +But she dreaded what was coming. + +She forced all thoughts of the dilemma from her mind, and began to +dress for the evening. Since it was a dinner date, and a second date as +well, she dressed more daringly, in a gay and provocative gown whose +neckline actually cut _below_ her breasts, leaving only a filmy band of +gauze and lace to cover the bosom. There was a special bra to go with +the outfit, one that embraced her nipples and hugged the lower curves +of her bosom. She had never worn the gown in public; with a jacket, +though, it seemed moderately decent, and a really high-class restaurant +would be accustomed to such a dazzling display. + +McDermott was impressed. He was ready, immaculate in formal tuxedo, +when she knocked at his door at five after six that evening. He +kissed her hand, and then--to the accompaniment of her delighted +giggles--lightly kissed her exposed bosom. "Won't you be arrested in a +gown like that?" he asked. + +She smiled. "This isn't Boston." + +"I know. But it isn't Bali either!" + +The waiter, though, kept his eyes modestly averted as she swept into +the restaurant on McDermott's arm. It was a Park Avenue restaurant so +costly that even she had only been there once before, and McDermott +had reserved a table that placed them practically in the center of the +room, where all eyes were drawn to the milky loveliness of Laura's +bosom. + +She enjoyed the attention. Holding her cocktail aloft, she would lean +forward, until her breasts came within an ace of popping out of their +confinement altogether, and she could almost hear the _oohs_ and _ahhs_ +all over the restaurant. McDermott, smiling, seemed to drink her with +his eyes. He told her at least a dozen times how happy he was that she +could join him for a second night. + +It was a long meal. There were innumerable entrees and cocktails, +and with the main dish came rare wine, and with the coffee there was +cognac. Laura felt mildly dizzy, even though she had eaten sparingly +and left her wine unfinished. She felt tremendously relaxed and happy, +except for the one nagging thought that if she married Dan she would +probably never eat at a place like this again, where the menu did not +deign to make mention of price, and where a dinner for two could easily +run to sixty or seventy dollars. + +In the taxi on the way back to the Whittier, McDermott turned to her +and kissed her, his tongue gliding into her mouth and his hand seeking +beneath the lace until it came to rest cupping the warm, soft bulk of +her breasts. Only when he attempted to slide one hand under her dress +did she stop him. The taxi driver was covertly watching in his mirror, +she was sure. Delicately Laura took McDermott's hand away from her +thighs, and they straightened up. "We don't want to look sloppy in the +hotel lobby," she whispered, and he nodded and smiled. + +Once they were in the room, though, there were no such restraints. He +pulled her tight against him, grinding his loins against hers, and +while one hand cupped her breasts the other ducked under the hem of her +gown in back, swooping upward and into her panties to grip the cool +flesh of her buttocks. They remained glued together for a long moment, +McDermott finally breaking away. He looked flushed and excited. Laura +wondered distantly whether he might not have a weak heart. So much +excitement would be dangerous for him, then. And it would be awkward if +he happened to have a heart attack while she was with him. + +He was on the phone, now, telling Room Service to send up champagne. +"The Piper Heidseick '52 _Cordon Rouge_," he specified. + +An impressive-looking official brought the champagne up fifteen minutes +later, in a bucket on a tray, and he made a big production out of +removing the cork. Pouring out a glass for each of them, he bowed and +departed. McDermott offered Laura her glass, and they clinked them +gravely and drank. + +Putting his glass down empty, McDermott said in a peculiarly halting, +hesitant way, "Laura--I--I've been doing a good deal of thinking since +last night--about--about things." He looked down at his gleaming +black shoes. "I--I'm rather fond of you, as you might imagine. I was +wondering if--perhaps--you could possibly be persuaded to move. To +Boston, or one of the suburbs." + +She looked at him in surprise. + +Before she could reply, he went on, "I have a fairly good idea of what +you earn here, and I could guarantee that you'd live equally well +up there. And you'd be free most of the time, except when I could +manage to see you. We'd have to arrange things very carefully, of +course. A breath of scandal and I'd be ruined." He looked up, pale and +tense. "There's one additional angle. My wife, as I've said, has aged +rapidly. She's not in the best of health. Now, a divorce is beyond +consideration, but--in the event of her death, say in the next year +or two--I would ask you to become my second wife. After the proper +interval of mourning, of course. Naturally this would entitle you to a +considerable portion of my estate at such time--as--well--" + +He paused. Laura looked at him in confusion. + +"I don't know what to say," she got out finally. "I'm--well--stunned--" + +"I admit it's sudden of me, this way. But I've searched my soul and I'm +convinced I must have you. Your past is of no interest to me. I need +you, Laura." + +It was her turn to look at the floor. "Well--there are some +complications," she said, thinking of Dan. No doubt Spinelli would be +willing to release her from employment to make such a marriage, or even +to become McDermott's mistress while Mrs. McDermott lived. "I'm afraid +I can't give you any answer on the spot, Bob. I'd have to think about +it a while." + +"Certainly," he said, calmer now that he had said his say. "This isn't +anything for you to rush into. Consider it, and let me know your +answer when you've reached a decision. For my sake, of course, I hope +it'll be _yes_." + +She looked away, moistening her lips. It was an idea, she thought. +A lot depended on what Dan had to say Monday night. If he asked her +to marry him, life would be a lot more complicated. But if he had no +such intentions, then it might not be bad at all to become McDermott's +mistress and possibly someday his wife and heir. + +She smiled. "I'd like some more champagne, Bob." + +"Certainly!" + +He filled her glass. She drank quickly. She began to feel giddy. +Without his telling her, she started to remove her clothing. When +she was nude, he came toward her. She realized she was very close to +being drunk. He took her in his arms, and she leaned against him as he +carried her to the couch. She sprawled out limply, her arms around his +neck, and he kissed her breasts, her eyes.... + +He sighed sharply as her cool hands touched his body, and then he +was on fire, crushing her in his arms, thrusting his tongue between +her teeth, and he brushed his fingers along her body and cupped her +breasts, and she clenched herself to him and their bodies joined and +this time he stayed with her all the way, until they went sweeping away +together on a riptide of delight. + + + + + _CHAPTER TWELVE_ + + +They made love twice that night before McDermott, utterly sated, +dropped off into sleep. The hotel desk woke them again at seven-thirty. +When they parted, after breakfast, McDermott did not give her anything. +Laura understood. It had nothing to do with the three hundred dollars +he had given her the night before. It was simply that McDermott was a +man of fastidious tastes, and he felt it was improper to offer crude +cash to a woman you had asked to become your mistress and someday +perhaps your wife. To slip her some cash that morning would be to +destroy all he had asked for the night before. It would reduce her to +the status of a whore again, albeit an elegant one, rather than a lover. + +Laura returned to her apartment by ten. She took a nap, and was well +rested by the time Spinelli phoned in the afternoon for a report on her +activities of the night before. + +She told him, in detail--including the proposition that she move to +Boston. + +"I know," Spinelli said. "McDermott brought it up yesterday. He wanted +to know if I had any objections, and also how I thought you'd react to +the idea. I told him to go ahead and ask you." + +"_Do_ you have any objections?" + +Spinelli chuckled. "McDermott would recompense me amply if he took you +out of my string. And it would be very useful to have you settled in +Boston under his protection. No, no objections here. Did he give you +anything for last night?" + +"No," Laura said, and explained why. Spinelli seemed to accept the +theory without any particular hesitation or suspicion. + +"Okay," he told her. "You'll be with him again tonight. He wants +you for dinner at his suite around seven o'clock. He's also made +arrangements to stay over in New York for at least another day. You'll +be assigned to him for as long as he stays." + +At seven, Laura reported to the Whittier for the third night in a row. +McDermott received her in a costly-looking oriental dressing-gown. He +had cocktails ready, and while she sipped hers he telephoned downstairs +to have dinner brought in. + +He had arranged for dinner to be prepared at a fine restaurant around +the corner, and brought over specially. It was wheeled in, now, on +a sumptuously laden tray--meats, vegetables, salads, all manner of +delicacies, accompanied by the best wine. Laura was glad she had not +bothered with lunch. + +They were not finished eating until after nine. McDermott had the +remnants of the meal removed, and as soon as they were alone he put his +arms around her, drew her tight against him, clasped her tightly and +kissed her. + +"Have you been thinking about--what I asked you last night?" + +She nodded. "Yes, I've been thinking about it, Bob. But I still can't +give you any definite answer. Not for another few days." + +"I'll be going back to Boston Saturday morning." + +"I couldn't let you know before Tuesday," she said. So much depended +on the meeting with Dan Monday night. "Could you phone me at home on +Tuesday? We'll be able to decide everything then." + +"If I have to wait that long, I guess I have to wait," he said quietly. +Gripping her hands, he whispered, "Don't fail me, Laura! I need you so +very much, you know. More than I could ever tell you." + +He began to undress her. When she was completely nude he knelt before +her, gently kissing her soft flesh until he had reached her lips. They +kissed deeply. Breaking away, he kissed her left breast in a way that +sent tremors of excitement through Laura's middle. He toyed with the +little nipple, while his hands roved the rest of her body. She began to +pant as excitement rose in her. + +He took his mouth from her bosom and cupped the heavy breasts in his +hands while she undressed him. The tips of his fingers curved under the +full globes, squeezing them tenderly. She throbbed in anticipation of +delight. He was naked now, his bare body flattened against hers, his +teeth nibbling at the lobe of her left ear while his hands caressed her +bosom and back, and their harsh breaths mingled in one stream, and she +began to draw him across the room toward the divan, a kiss at each step. + +Then they were curled there in each other's arms, ready for love, hers +long since on fire, and they kissed again, both of them coyly delaying +the moment when their bodies would become one. He was talking, now, +whispering passion-inspired words of love into her ear. He had learned +quickly which places set her on fire, and he was making use of his +knowledge. + +"Take me," she murmured, "Don't wait any longer, Bob. Now. Bob. _Now!_" + +She thrust toward him. + +A key turned in the door. + +They had only half a second to react, and in that time they were both +so enflamed with desire and numbed with surprise that they did nothing. +Then the door was flung wide open. + +What seemed like an army poured in. Men in police uniforms, men in +business suits, men with cameras, men with guns. Flashbulbs exploded. +Laura heard her own voice screaming hysterically, wordlessly; she heard +McDermott shouting angry curses, gutter abuse, violently vivid language. + +A raid! + +Stunned, the naked pair on the couch sprang up. Laura saw McDermott +scowlingly pulling a robe around his nakedness. She herself had nothing +to put on; she looked wildly around for a robe, a towel, anything, but +there was nothing, and perhaps a dozen men were staring greedily at her +bare breasts and thighs, their eyes alight with keen appreciation. + +Finally someone gave her an overcoat. Dazed, she murmured, +"What--what's going on?" + +A towering man in business clothes glowered down at her. "What's your +name?" + +"Don't answer him!" McDermott shouted. + +"Shut up, you," the big man snapped. Again to Laura he said, "I want to +know your name." + +"Lois Harper," she said quickly, using the name that had been her +pseudonym in her streetwalking days. "But what is this, anyway?" + +"This is a vice raid, lady. I'm Lieutenant Harkness of the vice squad, +and you're being booked on a morals charge. _You_," he said roughly to +McDermott. "Your name is Robert McDermott of Boston, now?" + +McDermott looked shell-shocked and crushed. He did not even seem to +have the strength to bluster. "Yes," he said weakly. "That's my name." + +"And who's this woman in your room?" + +McDermott shrugged. "You ought to be able to figure that out for +yourself." + +"Answer my questions! Did you hire this woman for immoral purposes this +evening?" + +McDermott shook his head. "I don't have to say a word to you, friend. +I intend to speak to my lawyer before I give any statements to the +police. And let me tell you this, while I'm at it--before I'm through +with you I'll bust you down to a beat cop." + +"Listen to the wise guy! He's in so much hot water he's boiling all +over, and he can still threaten!" the vice detective guffawed. "Listen, +McDermott, you know who tipped us off? It was your _wife_. She wrote +a letter asking us to check up on you because she suspected you were +entertaining call-girls when you took business trips. She wants divorce +evidence, I guess. And so when the Chief ordered a city-wide crackdown +for tonight, you were a natural. Especially when the bellboy told us +you had young female company. And there the two of you are bare-ass, +you and Miss Bigtits here. Don't threaten _me_, McDermott. You're in +big trouble." + +McDermott turned away, his face ashen, and sank down on the couch. +Laura began to whimper hysterically. The suddenness of the raid, the +flash-bulbs, the huge army of men--there were more than a dozen of +them--she was dazed and rocked by it. And her body, brought just to the +pitch of desire before the spectacular interruption, was aching now. + +The policeman who seemed to be in charge said, "Ryan, keep an eye on +the _lady_ while she gets dressed." + +"Gladly," a thin, beak-nosed man in uniform grinned. + +He scooped up Laura's clothes, underwear and all, and handed them to +her. She took them, still in a fog. + +"Come on," he said. "Into the bedroom here and get into your things. +We're in a hurry." + +"What are you going to do with me?" + +"Book you, of course." + +She began to panic. "I've got to make a telephone call!" + +"From the station," Ryan said. "Get into your clothes." + +He shut the bedroom door and stood with folded arms. Laura stared at +him. + +"Aren't you going to turn your back?" + +"And have you jump out the window or something? Uh-uh. Come on, kiddo. +You've been selling it long enough. You can spare me a free look, now. +Hurry it up." + +Blushing a fiery red, Laura slipped off the overcoat they had put +around her. Ryan's eyes were glued to her breasts as she hurriedly +donned her bra. She dressed quickly, weak with fear and embarrassment, +while Ryan leeringly watched her. + +"Okay," he said when she was finished. "Shake your butt, will you? +Everybody's waiting." + +Fully dressed, she returned to the outer room. Most of the invaders +had left. McDermott sat on the couch, his head in his hands, sobbing +brokenly. Feeling a sudden surge of pity, she started to go toward him, +but Ryan caught her wrist and pulled her back. + +McDermott looked up. His eyes were streaming tears. He tried to speak, +but no words would come. + +Laura said, "Don't worry, Bob--" + +"Too late. Too late. Elizabeth's stinking spy has pictures of us. +There'll be a divorce ... a scandal ... everything ruined...." He +sobbed again, his whole body shuddering. He covered his face with his +hands and slumped down. + +"Come on," the police said to Laura. + +"Where are you taking her?" McDermott demanded. + +"To the station-house, to be booked on a morals charge. You want to +come along?" + +"I have to talk to my lawyer--" + +"Talk to Phil," Laura whispered. "Tell him--" + +The police hustled her out. + +They went down via the freight elevator, which was some relief to +Laura. After having been the object of much interest and admiration +in the main elevators for the past three days, she did not want the +humiliation of being seen in police custody. + +The freight elevator opened onto the side street facing the hotel. A +police-wagon waited there. One cop held Laura as though expecting her +to break and run, while the other opened the back of the wagon. They +thrust her in. The wagon started to move. + +There were four other women in the wagon already, and they looked at +her with blank curiosity. Two of them were Puerto Ricans, fleshless +wiry little women wearing slips. A third, a big blonde, was dressed +only in a housecoat and a pair of panties. The housecoat was open, +and her big, heavy breasts, full and pendulous as a cow's, hung out +exposed, swaying and jiggling with every motion of the Black Maria. The +fourth girl was a very young-looking negro, wearing a tight red sweater +and a pair of black toreador pants. The Puerto Rican women seemed not +to understand or to care about what was going on; the fat blonde did +not appear to be very concerned, while the negress huddled in one +corner of the wagon, obviously terrified and tearful. + +The big blonde grinned at Laura. "They pull you outa that hotel?" + +Laura looked at her feet, and said nothing. + +"A snob, huh?" the blonde cackled. "Well, go screw yourself. I was just +trying to be sociable." + +"Please," Laura said. "I don't feel like talking." + +"None of you broads feel like talking!" the blonde roared. "The spics +don't understand, and this one is scared spitless, and you don't feel +like talking. What the hell kinda whores are you, anyway?" + +Laura said nothing. One of the Puerto Rican women looked up hesitantly +and said, "_Donde estamos?_" + +"I don't understand Spanish," Laura said. + +The woman smiled. "_Por favor donde estamos?_" + +"I don't understand," Laura repeated. + +"She wants to know where we are," the negro girl said in a husky voice. +"She's been asking that all the way downtown. She's never been south of +72nd Street before." Turning to the Puerto Rican, she said, "_Estamos +cerca la calle numero cuarentidos_." + +The answer seemed to satisfy the Spanish-speaking woman, who settled +back in silence. + +Perhaps fifteen minutes later, the wagon pulled up in front of the +House of Detention in Greenwich Village. Police guarded the women +carefully as the van was unloaded. Other wagons were parked nearby in +the streets, indicating that there had been plenty of arrests in the +last half hour. + +As Laura marched up the steps and into the building, bright light +exploded in her face. To her horror, she saw a little squad of press +photographers just inside the door, getting shots of the girls as they +came in. Spitting a curse, Laura threw up her arm to shield her face, +hoping their pictures would not come out. + +She was ushered inside. The place was brightly lit and ugly, with high, +bare walls. A bored-looking desk sergeant booked the new arrivals in, +explaining yawningly that they would be held in custody overnight +and arraigned in the morning. Laura once again gave her name as Lois +Harper, and she was led further into the building, to the cell blocks. + +They put her in a big cell with four other women who had been picked up +that evening. One was the negress, one the big blonde who had ridden +with her in the wagon. The Puerto Rican women went into another cell. +Laura's remaining two cellmates were a slovenly-looking redhead who +seemed to be a friend of the blonde, and a tall, lean girl in blue +jeans who kept to herself at the far corner of the cell. The metal +door clanged shut. Far down the corridor, some woman was singing in +a high-pitched, drunken voice. Further down, two women were arguing +violently in Spanish. + +Feeling strangely out of place in her elegant clothing, Laura huddled +down on one of the hard cots. It was only midnight. There were many +long, bleak hours yet to come before dawn. + +She wondered what would happen now. They might send her to jail, she +thought. Perhaps she would just get off with a fine. In any case, she +was in trouble. Not so much trouble as McDermott, though. She pitied +him terribly. No doubt there would be a messy divorce case, now. She +would be named as co-respondent, and the pictures of her and McDermott +in the nude would figure prominently in the trial, and his reputation +would be blasted. Probably he had enough money to get along for the +rest of his life, but his banking career would be effectively ended. + +She settled down without undressing and tried to sleep. A short while +later, she heard hoarse sounds coming from the other side of the cell, +and looked up. It was the big blonde and the redhead. They had pushed +their cots together and had stripped, and now they were lying with +their heavy bodies entwined, their lips pressed together, making love. +It was a disgusting sight. Laura remembered her own brief lesbian +interlude with Marilyn, but she told herself it had been nothing +like this. These were two heavybreasted cows of women, women in rut, +grappling with each other to slake their revolting lusts. Big breasts +quivered with desire; thigh locked around thigh. Laura closed her eyes, +but she continued to hear their heavy grunting, to hear the sudden +gasping insucking of breath as first one, then the other, arrived at a +culmination. + +It was a horrible night. Laura slept hardly at all, and every time she +awoke it seemed that the two lesbian prostitutes were at each other +again, enjoying it mightily. She heard the slap of hands on buttocks, +the sticky squish of one sweat-bathed body pulling away from another +and approaching it again. When morning came, Laura's head throbbed +mercilessly. She felt as though there was sand in her mouth, gravel +where her eyeballs once had been. Her clothing was rumpled and dirty, +and she needed a shower badly. She was hungry. She was frightened. She +was miserable. + +A burly policewoman came to the cell door about seven the next morning, +looked in, and entered. The two lesbians were still asleep in each +other's arms. The policewoman, grayhaired and iron-jawed, slapped them +soundly on their exposed buttocks. "Here, you two disgusting chippies! +Get up and separate those cots!" + +She stalked out. The lesbians muttered angry curses after her, but +separated. + +At nine that morning the policewoman returned. Peering into the cell, +she said, "Lois Harper, or Laura Haynes, or whatever you call yourself?" + +"That's me," Laura said. + +"Somebody to see you. Come on out." + +Laura freshened up quickly at the little dirty washstand in the +cell, while the policewoman opened the door. Laura followed her down +the wide halls toward the offices at the front of the building. +Feeling hopelessly rumpled and sloppy, she was ushered into a small +waiting-room. A suave-looking man of about forty rose immediately to +greet her. + +"Miss Haynes?" + +"Yes," Laura said uncertainly. + +"My name is Brewer, Leon Brewer. I'm a legal representative of Phil +Spinelli." He dropped his voice to a hollow whisper when mentioning +Spinelli's name. + +Laura smiled wanly. "When did he find out I was here?" + +"Last night, when Mr. McDermott called him. But there was nothing we +could do to help you until this morning." + +"What's going to happen to me?" + +"Nothing. You're free," Brewer said, smiling loftily. "The city doesn't +have a case against you. There's no proof you were soliciting, no proof +you were receiving money. All they can definitely accuse you of is +being present in Mr. McDermott's suite in--ah--a state of undress. In +short, they could make trouble for you, but not very much, and in any +event we've succeeded in having charges against you removed." + +Laura understood. Spinelli had pull. Brewer had spoken a few magic +words and they were letting her go. But all the other girls rounded up +last night, the streetwalkers and whores who didn't have fancy legal +assistance to help them, they would have to pay the fines and serve the +workhouse terms for prostitution. + +_Don't complain_, Laura thought. _At least you're free, aren't you? +It's their hard luck that they don't have any pull._ + +There were a few technicalities involved in her release. Within half an +hour, she and Brewer stepped out of the House of Detention into bright +morning sunlight. A black limousine pulled up. + +Spinelli was inside. Laura and Brewer got in. Spinelli looked grim. + +"Was there any trouble, Leon?" he asked. + +"Not a bit," Brewer said. "I just explained that they had accidentally +nabbed a Spinelli girl without realizing it, and they let her go with +apologies." + +"A damned good thing," Spinelli muttered. "I pay thousands a year for +protection, and what happens? They pick up one of my own girls. Christ, +I'm going to smash someone for this!" Suddenly solicitous, he said to +Laura, "How do you feel?" + +"Tired. Filthy. Scared as hell." + +"Take a couple of days off. And don't worry about this thing. It was +a big mistake. Some hotshot flunky wanted to have a morals raid, +that's all. And McDermott's wife put a bug on him. It was just a lousy +coincidence." + +"What about McDermott?" Laura asked. + +"Up the crapper, I'm afraid. He went back to Boston on a midnight +train. You better forget any deals you might have been offered by him," +Spinelli said. "He's going to need every cent he has, by the time his +wife gets through with him. The lousy bitch." + +Laura shuddered. "The poor man." + +Shrugging, Spinelli said, "He could have avoided it. He should have +paid a bellhop to look out for something like that. But he never +thought it could happen to him. It always is a big surprise, when the +bulls bust in. But it was his own damn fault." + + + + + _CHAPTER THIRTEEN_ + + +The first thing Laura did when she reached her apartment was to strip +off her soiled and rumpled clothes and head for the shower. She paused +to look in the mirror. She looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot +and rimmed with dark circles. Her cheeks were hollow. Even her breasts +seemed to droop a little. + +The brisk shower revived her to some degree. At least she was clean, +now. Naked, she walked numbly through the apartment, with all its +beautiful furniture and expensive carpeting, and threw herself down in +a heap on her bed. Her eyes throbbed mercilessly. She felt sick, sick +with pity for McDermott and Marilyn and herself, for all the hapless +whores rounded up and bundled into the House of Detention, for everyone +who schemed and suffered for filthy lust. + +After a while she began to doze off. She had had virtually no sleep at +all, and she was exhausted. She thought fleetingly of Spinelli, that +octopus of crime. He had saved her, and she supposed she should be +grateful for that. But she realized suddenly that she hated Spinelli +and everything he stood for. The merchant of high-priced sex, of +blue-chip nookie. Always ready to work the fix to cover something +up. Always ready with the glib talk, the smooth sales pitch, the big +money. He bought and sold souls with his money. He was a new kind of +villain, she thought--not the mustache-twirling kind with an evil +leer, but a new Madison Avenue kind of villain, an Ivy League kind of +villain, soft-spoken, dressing in perfect taste, eating at the finest +restaurants. Handsome, affable, cultured. But just as evil as the +most raucous gangster. More dangerous, in fact, since he cloaked his +malevolence behind smooth phrases. + +She dropped off to sleep, finally, still thinking of Spinelli. The +ringing of the telephone brought her up out of it. She woke, listening +to the bell ring for a third time, a fourth, a fifth. Frowning at her +own nakedness, she stretched across the bed and picked up the receiver. +The clock on the nighttable told her it was four o'clock; she had been +asleep for hours. + +"Hello?" + +"So you work for a fashion magazine, eh? And you had important work to +do last night?" The voice, Laura realized in astonishment, was Dan's. +But it sounded different--thick, as though he had been drinking, and +shaky. + +"Is that you, Dan?" + +"Yeah, it's me. Sucker Dan. The biggest dope this side of the +Mississippi. Fashion editor, you are. I could have had a free lay from +you, if I'd known. Fashion editor!" + +"Dan--" Her voice was edged with fright. "Dan, are you drunk?" + +"Maybe. You stinking whore!" + +"_Dan!_" + +"Go on, deny it, why don't you?" + +"I don't understand--" + +"Maybe it was your twin sister. You got a twin sister, Laura? Because +she looked just like you. Right down to the last, she looked just like +you. I didn't know you had a twin, Laura." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"The picture in the paper, Laura. On the front page of the _News_. You +mean you didn't see it?" + +She began to shiver. "N-no." + +"Well, I saw it, Laura. My sweet little fashion magazine editor. My +sweet little hand-holding girlfriend who was too busy to see me most of +the time. My sweet little whore. So long, Laura. It just goes to show +you you can't trust anybody in this world ... not anybody...." + +The phone clicked. + +"Dan!" she cried. + +The line was dead. With trembling hands, Laura replaced the receiver. +She clung to the edge of the bed, racked with deep sobs. She was at the +edge of hysteria. She fought for control. + +After a moment she regained her inner balance. The first thing to do, +she thought, was to get a copy of the newspaper and see just what sort +of pictures they had used. She made her way into the kitchen and rang +the house-phone several times, until the doorman answered. + +"Howard," Laura said, "will you pick up a copy of today's _Daily News_ +and bring it up to my apartment as soon as you can?" + +"Will do, Miss Haynes." + +She waited. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Laura started for it, +realized she was still nude, and hastily grabbed up a robe and wrapped +it around her. It was a thin, practically transparent robe, but there +was no time to worry about that now. + +The doorman, a young, massive West Indian, goggled in surprise at the +immodesty of Laura's outfit as she answered the door. But he made no +comment, merely smiled and handed her the paper. She took it from him +without unfolding it, and gave him a dollar. + +As soon as the door was closed, she spread the paper out on the bed. + +A headline screamed up at her from the front page: + + ARREST 100 IN + VICE ROUNDUP + +The entire lower half of the front page was given over to a single +picture that had been taken from the doorway of the Detention building. +It showed a file of women being shepherded into the building by +policemen, with police wagons in the background. + +Perhaps a dozen girls were shown in the picture. The one closest to the +camera was Laura. It was the photo that had been taken of her while she +was unawares. There was no mistaking the likeness. It was quite clear. +She was staring expressionlessly right into the camera, and a policeman +stood at her side with his hands grasping her arm at the elbow. + +The caption said, _Vice squad man leads some of the more than a hundred +prostitutes arrested last night into the women's house of detention. +Story on page 3._ + +Quickly Laura opened to page three. There, under a page-wide headline, +were two more pictures of girls struggling with policemen. The article +began, + +_The city's vice squad swooped down last night in a lightning raid on +New York City prostitutes. The carefully-planned operation covered +everything from cheap B-Girl bars to flossy midtown hotels, and by +midnight had netted more than a hundred tarts. Ten wagons were needed +to convey all the chippies to the hoosegow._ + +_According to a Vice squad spokesman, this is only the beginning of an +intensive campaign against the play-for-pay girls. Similar blitzkrieg +raids will take place from time to time, and there will be increased +surveillance of bars, hotels, and traditional street-corners. Another--_ + +Laura threw the paper down. She had to fight back a wild burst of panic. + +The worst had happened, then. The picture was in the papers, and Dan +had seen it. He had drawn the inevitable conclusion. + +_Oh, God_, she thought, _why did that photographer have to be there? +Why did they have to take my picture? Why did Dan have to see the +paper?_ + +_Why?_ + +The _why_ didn't matter any more. What mattered was that Dan had seen +it. And, obviously shocked, perhaps drunk, he had called up to accuse +her--rightfully--of having perpetrated a horrible deception on him. Her +head drooped in shame. To become emotionally involved with someone, +perhaps to come to the point of wanting to ask her to marry you, and +then to see her picture in the paper in a group of common prostitutes +arrested in a vice raid--what a shock that must have been to him, she +thought! And there was nothing she could do now, no way of calling +him and telling him that it was all a mistake, that they had arrested +someone who looked very much like her, or that they had really arrested +her but through some gigantic error of justice. + +No. Dan knew the truth. No lie would help now. + +Laura picked up the telephone and dialed Spinelli's number. On the +fourth ring it was Skalkottis, Spinelli's secretary-bodyguard, who +answered. + +"Yes?" + +"George, this is Laura Haynes. Is Phil around?" + +Skalkottis hesitated. "He's pretty busy. Maybe he can call you back, +huh?" + +"I want to talk to him. It's important." + +"Hold on," Skalkottis rumbled. "I'll tell him who's calling and we'll +see." + +A moment later Spinelli's voice came over crisply: "Laura?" + +"Phil, have you seen the front page of the _Daily News_ yet?" + +"Damn right, I've seen it. I saw it right after I left you this +morning. I tried to get the edition killed, but I was too late. It was +the final, and it was already on the stands everyplace." + +"Phil, that was my picture right there on the front page! I'm ruined! +Everyone will know--" + +"Calm down, baby, calm down. Listen, I'm working hard to fix things up +right now. The _Post_ had the same picture for the afternoon edition, +but I got it killed on the grounds that you weren't booked and so it +would be libelous to imply you were a prostitute. They got scared when +I pulled that. And--" + +"Sure, Phil, but that doesn't unprint the _News_ photo, does it?" + +"What are you afraid of? Laura, honey, you got the wrong idea. People +aren't going to look close at that picture. They pick up the paper and +it shows a bunch of women going into the clink. You happen to be the +first in line, that's all. But they don't pay any special attention to +the faces. Inside of two minutes after they've turned the page, they +forget what they saw." + +"But some people _will_ notice. My friends--the people in my house--" + +"How many of your friends read the _Daily News_, anyway?" Spinelli +asked. + +"That isn't the point. They'll _get_ to see it, somehow. Somebody will +notice, and the phone-calls will start going around. I'll be ruined, +Phil!" + +Spinelli was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Would it make you +happy if I transferred you to San Francisco for a couple of months?" + +"Would that help?" + +"I could set you up there until, say, October. Same pay, same kind of +clientele, only West Coast people. Then if you wanted you could come +back here. By that time everything would blow over." + +"I don't know--" + +"You don't like Frisco? Hell, I got branches everywhere. You want to go +to Montreal? St. Louis? Chicago? Detroit? Just say the word, Laura." + +"Let me just stay here and calm down for a couple of days," she told +him. "Then maybe I'll move on. I don't know. I'm so mixed-up right now, +Phil. So goddam terribly mixed-up." + +She got off the phone, went to the sideboard, fixed herself a drink. +She stared into the glass for a long time before she raised it to her +lips. The newspaper lay on the floor nearby, the incriminating front +page staring up at her. She wondered if the doorman had glanced at the +photo and had thought of comparing it with the face of the tenant known +as Miss Haynes. She wondered how long it would be before she got her +eviction notice from the management. + +Spinelli would take care of it, she thought, bitterly. Spinelli takes +care of everything. He got her the apartment in the first place, and +with a little judicious fixing he would make it possible for her to +keep it. Unless, of course, she chose to accept a transfer and do her +whoring in San Francisco or Montreal or Chicago or Detroit or some +other city on Spinelli's circuit. + +But everything was smashed. McDermott ruined--well, that was his own +fault, she had to admit. Still, he had offered her a princely deal, and +now it was shattered. Dan ... he would probably go out and get good and +drunk and swear off women for the rest of his life, after this latest +demonstration of their faithlessness. + +_So I better stick to what I've got_, she thought. _I'll go on being a +high-priced party girl, and I'll salt away more money in the savings +bank, and I'll buy shares of American Tel & Tel, and I'll grow rich. I +won't ever have children or love or a husband, but at least I'll have +plenty of money._ + +Spinelli was a slick devil. It was hard to hate him, except when you +looked past the mask to the monster beneath, and then you saw what a +cesspool he was. Spinelli could fix anything. Spinelli could glibly +lead girl after girl into prostitution, by promising the moon and +delivering it. Laura hadn't had any experience with the dope-peddling +part of Spinelli's enterprises, but she could guess that he operated +the same way there, manipulating his deluded pushers and the deluded +addicts, giving them all what they thought they wanted and milking off +plenty for Phil Spinelli, Esquire. + +Laura finished her drink. She put the bottle away quickly. It would be +so easy to go on, drinking sip after sip, until she lay sprawled out +naked and unconscious on the floor, her troubles temporarily blotted +out by liquor. But that was no solution. + +Nothing was. + +There _was_ no solution. + +She turned on the radio. Mindless music flooded the apartment. Laura +stretched out on the bed, listening to the vapid tunes, the talentless +rock'n'roll yammering, the caterwauling lyrics, and the music flooded +her, shutting off her mind. She listened for hours. The station played +nothing but music, and in between numbers a disk-jockey went on and on +with juvenile drivel aimed at his audience of morons of all ages. Laura +barely listened to the words, to the meaning. The pure sound flowed +through her, like a narcotic coursing in her veins. Every hour on the +half hour there was a news broadcast, but she paid no attention to what +they were saying. + +The afternoon moved along, and darkness began to descend over New York. +It was five o'clock now, six, seven, seven-fifteen. Laura did not get +up. She felt utterly weary, without the strength necessary to get up +and dress and have dinner. She just wanted to lie there and listen to +the music.... + +The news was being broadcast again. + +Words impinged on Laura's consciousness. + +Horrible words. + +"_Three people were injured this afternoon, one of them critically, +in a two-car crackup on the East River Drive. Martin Farber, 43, +and his wife Phyllis, 39, escaped with minor cuts and bruises when +their northbound car was struck from behind by a foreign car driven +by Daniel Bittner, 28, of Manhattan. Bittner was taken to Bellevue +Hospital with broken ribs, internal injuries, and a possible skull +fracture. Police said he was intoxicated while driving. At the hospital +just before entering sedation, Bittner said he had been despondent over +personal affairs and had let go of the wheel of his car in an attempt +at suicide. The Farber car, he said, had cut unexpectedly in front of +him after he had lost control of his own vehicle. He will face criminal +charges after his discharge from the hospital._" + +"No," Laura whimpered. "Not Dan. Not Dan!" + +It was an hallucination, she told herself. Her overstrained mind had +invented the news broadcast. Dan had not really done a thing like that. + +But he had. At eight, Laura turned the dial to another station that +broadcast the news, and they carried the story too--with the additional +comment that Bittner was now in very critical condition, and doctors at +Bellevue were not sure he would pull through. + +Laura was numb. Everyone she had come in contact with had, in some way, +met destruction. Perhaps it was not her fault that Marilyn had died, +or that McDermott's life had been wrecked. They had made their own +choices, and their roads had brought them to tragedy. But Dan--there +was no evading the self-condemnation there. She had known right from +the start that it was wrong to let him fall in love with her not +knowing the truth. Yet she had been unable to break away. And he had +done the expected, once the shocking truth about her had been revealed +to him. + +Marilyn ... Bob McDermott ... Dan Bittner ... the only one who had +not found her a deadly jinx thus far was Spinelli. But the dark gods +protected Spinelli. He had nothing to fear from anyone. + +For more than an hour Laura debated with herself about going to the +hospital. She wanted to; she wanted to throw herself at Dan's feet, +to apologize for having deceived him in this way, to plead with him +to find the strength to remain alive. Yet at the same time she feared +going to see him--feared his scorn, or, worse, his tears. She was +unworthy of him. Unworthy of loving him, unworthy of visiting him in +the hospital. + +But finally she decided she had to go. It was past nine o'clock, now, +and half an hour more went by before the taxi dropped her off at +Bellevue. + +In the lobby they told her inflexibly: "Visiting time ends at eight +p.m." + +"I know, I know. But he may die by morning. Don't you make exceptions +for dying people?" + +The nurse on duty frowned. "Who is it you would like to see?" + +"Bittner, Dan Bittner. He was in the auto accident on the East River +Drive this afternoon. They said on the radio that he was in critical +condition, that they weren't sure he'd last the night. I _have_ to see +him, don't you understand? This may be my--my last chance." + +The nurse looked more sympathetic. "Are you a relative of Mr. Bittner?" + +"I'm----I'm his fiancee," Laura said. "We were going to be married. +But--" She stopped, forcing the tears to remain back. It was almost +the truth, wasn't it? Why did this woman have to stand in her way, +blocking her when Dan lay perhaps dying upstairs? + +The nurse's expression softened further. "Let me check upstairs. +It's irregular to have visitors admitted this late, but we do make +exceptions in--in certain instances." She picked up a telephone +receiver and asked for an extension. Laura listened eagerly as she +spoke to a nurse upstairs. "Yes ... ask the doctor if Bittner can have +a visitor." + +There was a pause. Laura said, "Is he conscious?" + +"Semi-conscious," the woman said. "He's been in a coma most of the +afternoon, she said, but they told me he's out of it now. Oh." She +listened for a moment. Then she said to Laura, "The doctor says he's in +very shaky shape, but that any close relatives can be admitted for very +brief spells. Could I have your name, please?" + +"Haynes. Miss Laura Haynes." + +"We'll have to check, of course," the nurse said. "I mean, all sorts of +people try to get upstairs under false pretenses, and--" + +Laura gasped in horror, but it was too late; the nurse at the desk +was saying into the mouthpiece, "Her name is Laura Haynes. She's Mr. +Bittner's fiancee." + +There was another moment of hesitation. Then the desk nurse put the +telephone down. When she looked up at Laura her expression was stony, +bleakly hostile. + +She said, "I'm sorry, Miss Haynes." + +"But--" + +"They checked with Mr. Bittner," the nurse said coldly. "Mr. Bittner +said that he did not want to see you under any circumstances. I'm +sorry, Miss Haynes. We can't admit you." + + + + + _CHAPTER FOURTEEN_ + + +Laura dreamed of Dan that night. + +She dreamed that somehow the mistakes of the past had magically been +undone--that she had never gone to McCarten's that day, had never been +raped, had never embarked on the chain of events that had ultimately +brought her to Phil Spinelli. And, so, Dan had never tried to kill +himself on the East River Drive. But they had met, though--that much of +the past remained unchanged in her dream--and they had fallen in love, +and now they were getting married. + +She dreamed of a small wedding, just a few friends on hand. She stood +at Dan's side, gleaming in her white dress of virginity, and after +the ceremony they made a quick escape, getting into Dan's little car +and heading upstate for a honeymoon in a secluded mountain resort. By +sundown, they had eaten and were alone in their room, and they smiled +at each other shyly, Laura a virgin and Dan an inexperienced man, and +with hesitant fingers Dan began to undress her, opening her bra, laying +bare her young, full breasts that no man had ever touched, and finally +her body was naked to his, and he was undressed too, his body slim and +manly, and he took her uncertainly in his arms, just as frightened as +she was, and they kissed, a timid kiss at first, then more passionate +until it inflamed them both, and in one moment of blazing happiness she +surrendered to him, and she heard him mutter "I love you, Laura" as her +virginity vanished without pain, and their bodies were moving together +in perfect accord, every motion bringing incredible pleasure to both +of them, and they were moving faster and faster now, his hand resting +on the rising sweep of her breasts, she gripping the firm muscles of +his back, and she felt the great throbbing contractions of fulfillment, +and above her he was breathing deeply, and in another moment they would +reach a thundering ecstasy, a perfect climax to their first act of +love-- + +She woke. + +She sat upright in bed, trembling. She had put pajamas on before going +to bed, and they clung stickily to her skin, pasted to her body by +perspiration. Angrily she ripped the pajamas off and flung them to the +floor. Her loins ached; the dream seemed so vivid that for a moment she +could not understand why Dan was not right here, next to her in the +bed, and then she remembered that he was lying in the hospital, on the +borderline between life and death, and he had refused to let her see +him. + +The bedside clock said three A.M. Laura tried to return to sleep. But +sleep would not come; she twisted and turned, moving from one position +to another without finding any comfort. Every nerve in her body was +drawn tight. The dream still hovered with her, and it was almost as +though she could feel Dan's hand tenderly cupping the fullness of her +breasts, Dan's body lying between her thighs. But it was only a phantom +of the night. She had never slept with him--and now she never would. + +The hours dragged mercilessly on. At half past five, Laura decided +it was pointless to try to sleep any more. She sat up at the edge of +the bed, her head bowed, supported by clenched fists, elbows on her +thighs. She looked down at the heavy globes of her breasts. Her nipples +tingled painfully from the imagined stimulation of her dream. + +The sun was rising, now. Laura walked to the terrace and stepped out on +it, still naked. The morning air was cool and fresh; the summer heat +would not descend on the city for some hours yet. She stood there, +feeling the river breeze caressing her naked breasts and bare loins, +not caring whether anyone might look up from the street below and +see her. For a long moment she stared down, many stories down to the +street. It would be so easy to clamber up onto the little parapet and +to float out into space, falling twelve, thirteen, fourteen floors. +They would find her naked body later in the morning, the breasts +flattened to ruin, the tapering flawless legs crushed and shattered. + +Shaking her head, she walked back into the apartment and shut the +terrace window. It was six in the morning now. The dream of love was +far behind her, fading like the dream it had been. It no longer seemed +to have even the semblance of reality to her. + +She poured some juice, made some toast, put up a pot of coffee. She +breakfasted morosely, too tired to care what she was eating or how it +tasted. At half past seven she telephoned the hospital. + +"I'd like to find out how Mr. Dan Bittner spent the night," she said. + +"Just one moment," came the impersonal, disinterested voice from the +hospital switchboard. "I will check on that information for you." + +Laura waited. A moment or two later, the operator said, "Pardon me. Are +you a relative of his?" + +"I'm--a friend," Laura said. "A very close friend of his." + +"I'm sorry, then. Mr. Bittner died during the night." + +"Oh," Laura said, in a small voice. She had been expecting it. It came +as no surprise. She had _known_ he would not last the night. _And I +never even said goodbye to him_, she thought sadly. + +"His parents have been notified," the operator went on. "If you'll +leave your name with me, I can give it to them when they arrive to +claim the body, and they will get in touch with you concerning the +funeral arrangements for him." + +"That's all right," Laura said quietly. "It doesn't matter, about the +funeral. I wouldn't want to see him dead. Thanks, though. Thanks." + +She let the phone drop back into its cradle. + +She felt no hysteria, no wild grief. There was only a lingering, +festering bitterness, a cold rage against the universe that had +designed events to turn out in this way. + +_I killed him_, she thought acidly. + +_As sure as if I'd put a gun to his brain myself, I killed him. I ought +to give myself up for murder. I knew all along that it would kill him +to find out the truth about me. I should never have let him become +involved with me. But I did. And I killed him._ + +She stared at the floor, thinking of the people she had known in New +York, and what had happened to them. Marilyn ... dead. McDermott ... +ruined. Dan ... dead. At least one of those deaths was unquestionably +her fault. Marilyn's fate and McDermott's were simply coincidentally +involved with her. + +But still, it was a horrid trio of memories. + +Rising, Laura paced the apartment, wondering about the course of her +life since she had come to New York. She had earned a good deal of +money, but that was her only positive accomplishment. On the credit +side, money. On the debit side, betrayal of every ideal she had once +known. She had sold her body, had deceived herself more than anyone +else, had led a good and innocent young man to his death. She had +mingled with lechers and perverts and pimps. + +_Not very pretty, is it?_ she asked herself. + +Not at all. Somehow her life had gone off the track. Somehow instead +of the show-business career she had come to New York to win, she had +achieved success in whoredom instead. Nothing much to be proud of. +Nothing much to wire home to the folks in Kansas. + +She walked to the dresser drawer and opened it. A gun lay under a +pile of blouses. It was a .22 that Spinelli had given her, to use +as protection in case any burglar tried to force his way into her +apartment. It was loaded, but she had never used it. It was a small, +well-made, expensive-looking little gun. The low-caliber bullet it +fired would not always kill, but it could cripple--and if it hit a +vital area it could destroy. + +She took the gun out and balanced it on her palm. All she had to do was +wrap a finger round the trigger, lift the gun to her temple, and fire. +She would die instantly. There would be none of the lingering horror +of poison, or the deadly terror of the long wait before your hurtling +body reached the street. A tightening of one finger, and death would +crash through her brain, ending a useless and empty life. + +She slid her hand round the cold butt and raised the gun. Her finger +quivered over the trigger. Her hand shook. + +For a long moment she remained poised, on the brink of pulling the +trigger. No one would miss her, she thought. The Kansas folks had +probably already begun to forget her. Spinelli would miss her, sure. +He'd miss the money she brought him, that's all. Dan would not miss +her. Not now. She was of no importance to the universe. She was an +enemy of society. + +She deserved to die, she told herself. + +But the finger resting on the trigger remained relaxed. She did not +fire. She sat motionless, hardly breathing, while the battle raged +inside her mind. _End it, end it_, part of her shrilled. _Why go on? +Money isn't everything. Life isn't worth living if you can't respect +yourself. You might just as well pull the trigger._ + +But the reply came quickly, anguishedly: _No, don't. Death is too +final. If you live, there's always time to repent, to change, to atone +for the harm you've done. Suicide is a coward's way out. It would be +the last sniveling act of a weak and worthless person. It takes guts +to go on living from one day to the next. It takes courage to try to +repair the mess you've made of your life._ + +Slowly, she let the gun down. + +The tension broke. She was slick with her own sweat, and her heart +raced dizzyingly. She went into the bathroom and got under the shower +again, scrubbing the beads of sweat from her breasts and thighs and +buttocks. She came out and began to dress--not in anything fancy, +just a simple dress of the kind she wore back in the dim days before +Spinelli. + +By ten o'clock she was ready to leave. Almost as an afterthought, she +dropped the .22 into her handbag. + +The morning was warm and bright, a perfect late-summer day with just +the merest hint of the approaching autumn in the soft breeze coming +down from the east. Laura considered taking a taxi, but decided against +it. Her own legs were good enough. Besides, she didn't have very far to +go. + +It was half past ten by the time she reached Spinelli's apartment +house. She had not walked rapidly. In New York, everyone sprints, but +this morning Laura had chosen to stroll. She had plenty of time. + +All the time in the world. + +The doorman in the palatial lobby of Spinelli's building recognized her +and smiled. + +"Miss Haynes to see Mr. Spinelli?" + +"That's right," Laura said. + +In this building, no one went up unannounced. Laura waited while the +doorman rang upstairs on the house-phone and told Skalkottis that Miss +Haynes was here to see Mr. Spinelli. Skalkottis rumbled an "Okay" +so loudly that Laura heard it plainly. She walked into the waiting +elevator and punched 20. + +Skalkottis met her in the foyer as she stepped out of the elevator and +into Spinelli's apartment. The hulking bodyguard said, "How come you +didn't phone before you came over?" + +Laura shrugged. "I didn't know I was coming. I was out taking a walk, +and all of a sudden I realized I was right near Phil's place, so I +figured I'd stop up and say hello. I haven't been here for a while." + +"Phil has some visitors," Skalkottis said uncertainly. + +"That's all right. He won't mind if I join them," Laura replied +breezily. Before Skalkottis could stop her, she marched past him and +into the long hallway, past all the rooms of breathtaking beauty, +looking for Spinelli. She found him finally in the long room with the +terrace, the enormous room where Spinelli had administered her final +exam before graduating her into his staff. + +He had two visitors. + +He looked up in surprise as she swept into the room. "Laura--" + +"Hello, Phil. I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" + +She looked at the two visitors. One of them was a girl of about +nineteen. She was stark naked. She was a tall, virginal-looking blonde, +with thin soft golden hair. Right at this moment she was blushing +practically all over. She was lovely, in a soft, pale kind of way, with +round high breasts and tender-looking thighs. She was staring at Laura +in surprise, and in an automatic gesture of modesty before another +woman she was ineffectually trying to cover her loins with one hand and +both her breasts with the other. She looked extremely naked, extremely +young, extremely frightened. Obviously a new candidate for Spinelli's +stable, being shown off by her discoverer to Spinelli. + +The other person in the room was Ned McCarten. That was just perfect, +Laura thought. It was better than she could have dared to hope for. + +She sized the situation up: McCarten had found this girl and had +brought her direct to Spinelli himself, McCarten now looked shamefaced +and uncertain, as though he wanted to sink into the deep pile carpeting. + +Laura said, "Hello, Ned. Long time no see." + +"H-hello, Laura." + +"You don't have to cringe like that," Laura said calmly. "What you did +to me is ancient history, Ned. I've been through the mill plenty since +the day you raped me." She smiled at the naked blonde. "And this is the +new one, eh? Very nice, Ned. Phil, are you going to give her a job?" + +Spinelli looked annoyed. "Now, listen, Laura, you can't come busting in +here--" + +"Sure I can. I just did." She realized Skalkottis was standing behind +her. But Spinelli would not dare to have her manhandled--not in front +of a potential candidate. The naked girl looked about to faint. She was +cramming her full breasts into a bra, now, and reaching for panties. +The audition had suddenly become much too public to suit her, it seemed. + +To the girl, Laura said, "I'm Laura Haynes. I'm also one of McCarten's +discoveries. Remind me to tell you someday about how he 'discovered' +me. Maybe you got the same treatment yourself." + +Spinelli was scowling. "Laura, I'll have to ask you to wait outside +until--" + +"I won't," Laura snapped. She stepped back and to the side, so there +was solid wall behind her and not the possibly menacing Skalkottis. "I +want to talk to this girl. I want to tell her to get her clothes on +and get out of here before it's too late." + +"Are you out of your mind, Laura?" Spinelli shouted. + +"No! I'm _in_ my mind, at long last," she tossed back at him. In a +quieter voice she said, "He's dead, Phil." + +"Who is?" + +"Dan Bittner." + +"And who the blazes is he?" + +"I loved him," Laura said quietly. "Remember, you suspected I might be +carrying on on the side? Well, I was. I never slept with him. He was +too innocent for that. He loved me, I think, and he wanted to marry me. +But he killed himself the day my picture got into the papers with the +label _whore_ underneath it." + +Spinelli moistened his lips. "You're drunk, Laura. If you've got +anything to say to me, wait until I can see you in private. George--" + +"Don't touch me!" she warned Skalkottis. To Spinelli she said, "I'm +not drunk. I just came here to tell you that I was through with the +call-girl business. You hear me? _Through._ The only decent person I +ever knew in my life is on a slab in the basement of a hospital right +now, and you sit here like a bloated spider in your web, and here's +some new girl ready to be turned into a whore." + +"Get her out of here!" Spinelli grated. + +Laura stepped back. "Keep your hands off me," she told Skalkottis. "I'm +warning you, don't lay a finger on me, you ape." + +"The boss wants you to wait outside," Skalkottis said in a +surprisingly gentle voice. "Why you want to make all this trouble, huh? +You shouldn't come in here and shout at him like that. You did all +right by him, didn't you?" + +Suddenly Laura knew what she had come here to do. In one quick flash of +understanding, she realized what her purpose in existence was. + +She opened her handbag. The cold little .22 leaped into her hand. + +Skalkottis jumped back, startled. Laura's finger slid round the trigger. + +She fired. + +There was an explosion that seemed incredibly loud for so small a +gun, and a violent shaft of pain ran up Laura's arm. A crater erupted +in Skalkottis' throat. Hit at five feet's distance, the little slug +practically blew his throat apart. A gout of blood coursed out of +severed arteries; he uttered a thick, wordless moan and sank to his +knees, clutching the wound and trying to hold it closed. + +The half-naked blonde screamed. McCarten cowered. Spinelli rose to his +feet in astonishment. + +Smiling, Laura swung round to face Spinelli. He was groping in a +desk-drawer, now, obviously searching for a weapon. His well-groomed +face looked pale and frightened, and his eyes were very wide. + +Laura fired again. + +She aimed for his chest, but the gun kicked hard, and the bullet +entered him low, in the stomach, hardly six inches above the top of the +desk. He grabbed his belly and staggered back, away from the desk. + +Shrieking, McCarten broke from his seat and dashed across the room. He +presented his full back to Laura, who aimed with skill that surprised +her, and squeezed the trigger a third time. The bullet caught McCarten +between the shoulderblades; he howled and went sprawling. Laura took a +deep breath. The blonde, with her panties still halfway up her hips, +had fallen flat and was moaning hysterically. Skalkottis lay face-down +in a pool of gushing blood, not moving at all. McCarten did not seem +to be moving either. Spinelli, still alive, was writhing feebly and +clutching his belly. + +Laura walked calmly toward the girl and lifted her to her feet. + +"Don't worry," Laura said. "I'm not after you. Just these worms." She +looked at Spinelli. Her voice was rock-steady as she said, "The police +could never stop you, Phil. You knew too many people, you had too much +pull. They'd never pin anything on you that you couldn't wriggle out +of. And you'd go on, getting richer and richer, leading girl after girl +into filth and sin." + +"_Laura_...." he muttered. + +"You didn't expect this, did you?" she asked. "You figured you'd live +forever, that no one could possibly catch you or stop you. Well, you +were wrong. You're lying there in your own blood, and you're going to +die, Phil. You're going to die right now. All the pull in the world +can't save you, Phil." + +She lifted the gun. + +She fired again, aiming carefully. + +The shot caught Spinelli in the chest. He had risen to his knees, but +the impact of the bullet threw him down flat. He lay still. + +Laura let the gun drop to the floor. She realized she was almost at +the point of collapse. + +_Killing myself wouldn't have accomplished anything_, she thought. _But +now I've done something for society, something that society couldn't +do for itself. Maybe they'll send me to the chair for it, but at least +Phil Spinelli is dead and the world's a cleaner place for what I've +done._ + +She looked at the blonde. The girl was dazed and stunned. + +Laura said, "Why were you here, honey?" + +"They--they were going to give me a job, they said. And before I knew +it they were taking my clothes off, and then you came in--" + +"Are you a virgin?" she asked. + +The girl shook her head. "No. Not really. There was this fellow back +home--he said he loved me. But I only did it with him once. And then I +came to New York. But--oh, I'm all frightened now! Did you kill them?" + +"I killed them," Laura said. "Stone dead. Get your clothes on and get +out of here, now. Go back home to that boyfriend of yours and marry +him. And if anyone asks you, you were never here." + +The girl nodded and hastily began to dress. Laura walked to the +telephone at Spinelli's desk. She dialed the operator. + +"Give me the police," she said. + +There was a click. "Police headquarters." + +"Hello," she said. "My name is Laura Haynes. I've just killed Phil +Spinelli and two of his men." In a calm, mechanical voice, she gave the +address and hung up. + +She felt clean, now. + +Perhaps they would send her to the chair; perhaps they would free her +as a public benefactor. It didn't matter. She had absolved herself now +of her personal sin, and if society insisted on her death she would +not mind. At least she had bought back her soul from Phil Spinelli. At +least she was pure again. + +She smiled. She walked to the window, and sat down by the terrace to +wait for the wailing sirens. + + + THE END + + + + + OTHER NIGHTSTAND BOOKS YOU'LL WANT TO READ + + LOVE ADDICT + LUST CLUB + SEX GANG + GANG GIRL + CAMPUS TRAMP + CARNIVAL OF LUST + THE WILD NIGHT + SUMMERTIME AFFAIR + BORN FOR SIN + + ON SALE AT YOUR NEWSDEALER + + + + +ON THE STREET ... + +_was their affectionate way of saying, "I'm becoming a prostitute." And +so Laura Haynes went on the street. It seemed the only way out after +coming to New York to become an actress, after getting raped in an +agent's office, after meeting Marilyn, the sad girl who could only find +satisfaction in the arms of another woman. It was a way of making it +big in the big town, and Laura wanted that. She also wanted to become a +high-priced call-girl in the Syndicate, and if Spinelli could do that +for her, she'd_ ... + +... SELL HERSELF CHEAP! + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79382 *** |