Lovers and Gamblers (3 page)

Phil was tall and nice-looking. He spoke softly. It was a shock when that evening he threw off her nightgown and violently deflowered her. The only sexual education she had received had been from observing the animals, but even they behaved with more gentleness than the man who was her husband.

Night after night Phil demanded his rights. He never kissed or caressed her, merely lifted her nightdress and thrust himself in. Dallas accepted this. She worked hard during the day, and at night she cooked and cleaned and suffered her husband’s attentions, because this was the way she thought things were. When her mother became ill, her father decided they needed more help at the zoo, so he employed a young black couple named Burt and Ida Keyes. Dallas liked them immediately, they were always laughing and giggling, and they seemed so fond of each other. She couldn’t help watching them. She noticed the way they kept on touching each other, and the secret smiley little looks they exchanged.

After several weeks she plucked up the courage to discuss this with Ida. ‘You and Burt are always feeling each other; kissing, things like that. Do you like it when he does… well… you know ?’

‘Like it!’ Ida make a sucking sound of enjoyment. ‘I just couldn’t live without it!’

Dallas studied Burt with new eyes. What made him so different from Phil? It couldn’t only be his black skin. It wasn’t long before she had the chance to find out. They were alone together one day cleaning out one of the cages, when Burt reached out and lazily pushed the hair off her forehead. Then he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her long and hard. The feel of his tongue exploring her mouth created a vacuum of excitement in Dallas that she had never known before.

He undid the buttons on her blouse, and exposed her breasts. All the time he was whispering endearments.

Dallas could not have moved even if she had wanted to. She was powerless, thrilled, on the brink of a fantastic new discovery.

Burt bent his head to her breasts, and she leaned back, hoping the moment would last forever. Then she saw the blood as it fell on her breasts from the cut above Burt’s eye. She heard the cursing as Phil lifted the stick to strike once more. She felt the shame sweep over her in a great wave.

She jumped up, covering herself. Oh God, how could she ever face her friend Ida again?

She ran back to the house and collected a few belongings, then she took twenty dollars from the dresser and fled.

She had no idea where she was going, she just ran.

On the highway she thumbed a ride, and it was only when she was settled in the front seat of the Ford car that she stopped to think.

‘Where to, sweetie?’ inquired the florid driver of the car, and he reached over and patted her on the knee.

* * *

‘Miss Los Angeles. A beautiful young lady of twenty whose vital statistics come out at a staggering 39-22-36. Dallas by name, a model, whose life ambition is to marry a fellow American – because – and I quote the lady herself – American men are so big and strong and handsome. Wowee, folks, that’s
some
compliment.’

Dallas paraded across the stage. The spotlight felt hot on her almost naked body. Stomach in. Bosom out. Head high. Fixed smile. Walk tall.

She glanced briefly at the judges. Ed was regarding her like a proud father, and well he might. What was that sweet old-fashioned phrase? Sugar daddy. Yeah – that’s what he was, her sugar daddy.

She had met him in Los Angeles, and he had transported her to New York and set her up in a very nice apartment. When she had heard he was to be a judge on ‘Miss Coast to Coast’ she had asked him to pull a few strings. He had done so, flown her to Los Angeles where she won the local contest, and now here she was. With connections it was as easy as that.

Ed Kurlnik could pull a lot of strings if he so cared. He was an important man, head of the Kurlnik Motor dynasty – a vast corporation almost as large as the Ford empire.

Dallas turned and flashed a smile at the television camera. Ed was most impressed at the fact that she was only twenty. He was sixty-one and looked it. Money could buy most things, but it couldn’t turn back the clock. Having a young girlfriend made him feel virile and alive.

‘Honey-blond hair, green eyes, five foot seven inches of beautiful woman. Let’s hear it for Miss Los Angeles – the lovely Dallas.’

She turned and smiled one last time, then she was off the stage and running back to the dressing-room.

She unhooked the top of her bikini, stepped out of the tiny pants. Then, totally naked, she inched her way into a long green tube of a jersey dress. Nine hundred dollars’ worth, Ed had bought it for her. It fitted like a second skin, skimming her hips, clinging round her breasts, plunging back and front. She fluffed out her hair, licked her lips. She was ready.

She watched the other contestants on the closed circuit television. Some were pretty, some cute, but none could hold a candle.

‘You sure think you’re hot shit!’ Miss Long Island hissed.

‘Served your way. Right up the ass!’ replied Dallas calmly. They were all jealous of her and well they might be. She was going to win. Of that there was no doubt.

* * *

The man in the car had taken her to a motel. She was grateful to him, she had nowhere else to go.

He was about her father’s age. He wore a brightly patterned sports shirt, and baggy beige trousers.

‘Say, girly, what ya gonna do to make an old man happy?’ he asked.

Dallas sat quietly on the corner of the double bed. What was she going to do?

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ the man suggested, ‘and I’ll go and get us some beers.’

Dallas sat unmoving. She didn’t know what to do. If she hadn’t met this kind man she would still be out on the highway thumbing a lift. She had made the move, she couldn’t go back. Phil would kill her. Her parents would never talk to her again, and as for Ida…

The man returned, carrying a plastic bag from which he produced a six-pack of beer and a box of Ritz crackers. ‘We’ll have ourselves our own little party.’ He switched on the television and drew the curtains. Then he snapped open a can of beer and handed it to her. He was sweating a lot, small rivulets running down his face.

Dallas sipped from the can. She had never tasted beer before. Her eyes were glued to the television set. So much going on. So many new experiences.

‘You gonna get undressed?’ the man inquired, licking his lips and sticking a fat fist into the Ritz crackers.

‘Why?’ asked Dallas carefully, not at all sure what it was he wanted from her.

‘Ha!’ exclaimed the man, ‘I’ll take care of you, girly, don’t worry on that score.’ He unzipped his trousers and struggled out of them. He had sunburned thighs and underpants that matched his shirt. ‘Come on, girly,’ he insisted. ‘Let’s go.’

So this was the price of a bed. Dallas sighed. She knew what he wanted now. Well, it couldn’t be any worse than it was with Phil.

She felt nervous and unsure. But if it meant a bed for the night…

She had no money, no choice. The only alternative was returning home, and she couldn’t do that. This man would look after her, he was a fatherly type, he had behaved kindly.

She stood up and removed her jeans, and the man moved forward and took off her pants. Then, sweating more than ever, he removed his own pants, and pushed her back on the bed. He was struggling with a rubber thing, fitting it over his penis.

Dallas closed her eyes, bit down on her lip and counted silently. With Phil she never got as far as fifty, with this man it only took to fifteen, and then he was grunting and heaving, and it was over. He hadn’t been as rough as Phil. It was almost painless.

‘You’re a little beauty!’ exclaimed the man. ‘You been at it long?’

‘Oh,’ said Dallas vaguely, ‘I guess so.’ She went to the bathroom and put her pants and jeans back on. She stared blankly at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were tear-filled, but she couldn’t cry, nobody was forcing her to do anything. Quietly she went back into the bedroom and settled on the bed in front of the television.

Half naked, the man was asleep, his snores hardly disturbing her.

In the morning she awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep in front of the television still in her clothes. She looked around for the man, but he was gone. On the bedside table there was a note and a twenty-dollar bill. The note read – ‘Vacate room by twelve, all paid for. Thank you.’

Where was he? Why had he deserted her? Maybe she hadn’t pleased him. Why had he left twenty dollars? Did he know she had no money?

Puzzled, Dallas ate the rest of the Ritz crackers while watching television. Then, at twelve o’clock, she was back on the highway.

* * *

There were six finalists. Nervously they huddled together backstage waiting for the results.

Dallas stood slightly apart, aware of the fact that a television camera was trained on them to catch every nuance of disappointment. She tried not to look too confident. She smiled slightly and parted her lips appealingly. Let all the guys in the audience drool. She knew she looked great. She knew she was a winner.

They were announcing the three winners now.

Miss Kansas City was third. She squealed with delight and kissed the girl nearest to her before rushing onto the stage.

Miss Miami Beach was second. ‘Oh my God!’ she muttered, the colour draining from her face. And she had to be pushed onto the stage.

Here it comes, thought Dallas, here comes my little bit of fame – here comes my passport to better things. If any of those sonsofbitches have double-crossed me…

‘And now the winner – “Miss Coast to Coast” – the beautiful – Dallas! Miss Los Angeles!’

She pulled in her stomach, threw back her shoulders and walked confidently onto the stage.

Flashbulbs were popping, the audience was applauding and cheering. Maybe she would have won it without taking out insurance… She seemed like a popular choice.

The MC was grabbing her excitedly – ‘Miss Coast to Coast! Miss Coast to Coast!’ he kept on screaming.

She smiled towards the television cameras. The previous year’s winner was placing the sash around her. Ramo Kaliffe was placing the crown on her head. ‘Later,’ he whispered.

‘Maybe,’ she whispered back. Maybe not – she thought. Wouldn’t do to let Ed find out there were others…

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Ed, he was smiling proudly. He had been smiling the first time she had met him, but that had been for different reasons…

* * *

Dallas thumbed a lift into Miami with a truck driver. He chewed gum and barely spoke to her. When he stopped the truck to let her out she had hesitated.

‘Whassamatter?’ he asked.

‘I thought you might want to keep me with you…’ she ventured.

‘Aw, shit!’ He spat on the sidewalk. ‘I got daughters older than you. Go peddle it at the Fontainebleau.’

The truck drove off and she was left standing there. Go peddle it at the Fontainebleau – what did that mean?

‘Excuse me?’ she asked a woman at a bus stop. ‘Is there a Fontainebleau Street?’ The woman shook her head. ‘Fontainebleau Hotel,’ she suggested, ‘but that’s over on Collins Avenue.’

‘How do I get there?’

The woman looked her over. ‘Goin’ for a job?’

‘Er – yes.’

‘Come with me on the bus, I’ll tell you when we get there. Hadn’t you better smarten up?’

‘I will later,’ agreed Dallas. She was wearing her standard clothes of old jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals. Perhaps she should brush her hair and wash her face. She was beginning to feel extremely hungry.

The Fontainebleau Hotel seemed a large and formidable place. Dallas hung around outside for a while and watched the people emerging and collecting their cars. Two girls walked by in beach clothes, and Dallas fell into step behind them as they entered the hotel. The huge air-conditioned lobby seemed even more formidable, so Dallas followed the two girls into an elevator. They took it down to a lower level, and emerged into an arcade of shops. She smelled the restaurant, and wondered how much a sandwich would cost. While she stood outside wondering, a group of men appeared. They were middle-aged and jolly. They were shouting at each other in friendly tones, and clapping each other on the back.

‘Excuse me?’ Dallas asked the nearest one. ‘How much is a sandwich?’

This question produced much hilarity, and they crowded round her, staring and laughing.

‘What you doin’ here?’ one of them finally asked. ‘You don’t look like you belong here.’

‘I’m… er… looking for a job.’

‘What sort of a job?’

Dallas shrugged. ‘Anything where someone will take care of me.’

‘If you’ll have a bath, I’ll take care of you,’ one of them suggested leeringly.

‘All right,’ said Dallas seriously.

‘I think I just got lucky!’ he joked to the others.

Dallas stared at him. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked. This time she wanted to know, then maybe he couldn’t run off in the middle of the night.

‘Frank,’ he said. ‘You can call me Frankie.’

The others were walking off into the restaurant. ‘I’ll see you guys later,’ volunteered Frankie.

‘Make sure she takes a bath,’ one of them said as a parting shot. ‘Don’t want to carry anything back to Irma!’ They all departed laughing.

Now they were alone Frankie lost some of his strut. ‘You look awfully young,’ he said. ‘You sure you old enough?’

‘Twenty dollars,’ stated Dallas, ‘and a sandwich.’ She was learning fast.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Linda firmly, ‘but she wouldn’t come.’

‘Wouldn’t come?’ echoed Al and Paul in unison.

‘That’s right. You got it in one.’