Lovers and Gamblers (30 page)

She listened, disappointment suffusing her chubby features. Then she set off in Evan’s direction.

Van Valda was at his elbow. ‘Everything all right, Al? Feel like a private party?’

Al followed Van and a select group out of the living room and into a private elevator. Apart from himself there were the two movie stars, male and female, and the drunken writer. The female movie star trailed her fingers lightly over his fly. Her elfin face glowed. She attended to Van in the same way.

The elevator took them directly into Van’s bedroom. The room appeared to be all bed and mirrors and video screens. The carpet was thick fur.

The female movie star flung off her clothes, such as they were, and collapsed, spreadeagled, on the fur carpet.

Male movie star immediately started to service her with his tongue.

Discreetly Van set his hidden cameras in motion. This would certainly be a good one for the library. He then sprung a switch, and photographs of six different girls leaped onto the screens.

‘Choose whichever you want,’ he suggested blandly.

‘Give me the little Chicano,’ moaned the female movie star. ‘Is she as talented as she looks?’

‘More so,’ replied Van smugly.

Al studied the photos. Two busty blondes, a black girl, the Chicano, an ugly redhead with giant knockers, and a delicate Chinese.

‘I’ll take the redhead,’ Al said. ‘Are they real?’

‘Of course they are,’ replied Van, offended.

The writer rubbed himself reflectively. ‘Bring them all in,’ he mumbled. ‘I can’t choose.’

Van smiled. This was going better than he had expected. He pressed a series of buttons, and within seconds the girls came filing in.

The redhead went straight to Al. She was very tall, perhaps six foot in the black ankle-strap shoes she wore with black stockings and an old-fashioned suspender belt. Van had found from experience that men over thirty-five were distinctly turned on by stockings and suspenders. And as most of his famous guests were in that age group he always made sure that at least two of the available girls wore them. Tonight it was the redhead and the Chicano.

The redhead was quite thin. A fact which accentuated the enormous boobs which sprung forth from her body like two particularly lethal weapons. Apart from the shoes, stockings, and suspenders, she wore an open-nipple bra of black fur.

At the sight of her Al started to laugh. She was like a walking dirty picture.

Van, although he did not indulge himself, had allowed a small pouty Nymphet in, carrying a tray of drugs. Cocaine, grass, even methedrine for the really dedicated.

Al smiled. How the Kurlnik twins would love it here! He helped himself to a joint. Dragged deeply. Sat on the edge of the giant bed.

The girls who had filed in stood in a silent line waiting to be summoned.

The writer staggered over, pawed at one of the blondes. ‘C’mon, baby, get ’em off.’

She was wearing a purple jumpsuit zippered down the front. ‘Help me out of it, Daddy!’ she purred.

The writer lurched against her. He was so drunk he could scarcely stand up.

Al glanced over at Van. He did not seem about to participate. ‘Which one is yours?’ inquired Al in a friendly fashion.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ replied Van blandly. ‘Rita!’ He gestured to the redhead. ‘Take your bra off. I think Mr King would like to see what you’re hiding.’

Rita obeyed, slipping and sliding out of the bra like a seasoned stripper. She did indeed have the most enormous boobs Al had ever seen.

Van smiled in a paternal fashion. ‘I heard they were your weakness,’ he confided, ‘and Rita’s are all her own, she’s not just another Los Angeles silicone job, y’know.’

Female movie star sat up to take a look, select a joint, then she vanished down on the floor.

By this time everyone except Van and Al had taken time out to remove their clothes. The Chicano and Chinese had joined the movie stars on the floor. Rita, stripped and ready, and the black girl, in a see-through Andy Warhol T-shirt, stood around waiting.

Van sat one side of the big bed. Al the other.

‘Please do go ahead,’ Van offered, watching the writhings around him with all the excitement of a dead fish. ‘Rita, help Mr. King with his clothes.’

Rita and her outsize protuberances bore down on Al. He held her off with a hand. ‘Van? Which one is yours?’

Van puffed quickly on his pipe, ‘Don’t worry about me, go right on and enjoy yourself.’

‘While you watch?’

Van looked offended. ‘If it bothers you…’

‘You bet it bothers me.’ Al stood up, his mouth tightening into a disgusted line. He indicated Van’s other guests. ‘What are we all supposed to be – the cabaret?’

‘Now, Al – please. I arranged all this for you. I thought you would enjoy…’

‘No shit,’ interrupted Al coldly. ‘And I’d like to bet my ass that you’re photographing the whole event.’ He moved threateningly close to Van. ‘Am I right, buddy boy?’

Van squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Any pictures or film taken of my guests is never used other than for my personal library.’

‘Horseshit,’ said Al tensely. ‘Get ’em stoned, get ’em fucking. Your personal library must be worth a fucking fortune.’

‘If you like,’ suggested Van, quickly, ‘I could show you some films.’

‘Jesus!’ Al laughed in disbelief. ‘You don’t let up, do you?’

The redhead, still standing, shifted uneasily and raised her eyebrows at the black girl. The black girl, stoned and bored, ignored her.

‘You’re a slimy sonofabitch,’ Al said, heading for the elevator. ‘I didn’t like you on sight, and now I like you even less.’

‘But, Al. The party, I did it for you…’

‘You don’t even
know
me. I’m not the asshole you seemed to think I would be. Porno photos yet!’ He indicated the movie stars writhing about on the fur carpet oblivious to the fight going on above them. ‘And when do you break the news to those poor schmucks? Hey – listen – have I got some photos of
you
! And hey presto – they’re in your pocket from that day on. Right?’

‘You’ve got the whole thing wrong,’ argued Van woodenly.

‘Bullsheeeeet! Who are you kidding – you prick.’

He stepped in the elevator and as the doors closed he saw the female movie star surfacing yet again and enquiring in a sweet girlish voice, ‘Anyone for head?’

Later, back at the hotel, Al and Paul had a good laugh about it.

‘You just wouldn’t have believed it,’ Al explained. ‘Uptight, sitting on his bed getting ready for the action like an old queen.’

‘Maybe he is. Maybe that’s his scene.’

‘Who, him? Surrounded by eight million girls? Come on.’

Paul rustled up a poker game and they played late into the night.

It wasn’t until he was alone in his bed that Al allowed Dallas to intrude into his thoughts.

He had to have her. And one way or the other he was going to see that he did.

Dallas awoke in a fog. She was awake, but she could not manage to open her eyes. She lay very still whilst the fog cleared, and she could collect her thoughts.

Briefly she remembered the previous evening. It had all gone so smoothly. And thank God it was over.

She opened her eyes. There were still things to do. It was time to get up. She glanced at the bedside clock. Ten o’clock. Naked, she jumped out of bed, shook her hair loose, flung on a thin silk robe.

Linda was in the kitchen making coffee.

‘Where are the photos?’ Dallas asked anxiously.

‘Don’t worry. The negatives are in an envelope ready for you to take to the bank. And two separate sets of prints are in here.’ Linda indicated a kitchen drawer. ‘Phew! I’ve got to tell you I’m glad it’s over.’

‘
You’re
glad it’s over.’

‘It was an education, though. To think that funny little gimpy guy runs a studio, is married to Doris Andrews, and plays games with hookers on the side. Wow – how many hats of different colours can a person wear?’

Dallas shrugged. ‘If I told you some of the things I know…’

Linda gulped her coffee. ‘Don’t! Enough is enough. I don’t think I can take any more right now. I’ve spent the entire evening dreaming about Diamond’s boyfriend. I didn’t even know there were such things as
male
hookers. I’m a sophisticated New York girl of thirty-two and I
didn’t even know about male hookers
. I think I want one!’

Dallas couldn’t help smiling. ‘What on earth for?’

‘For what do you think? I mean the thought of going to bed with a guy who is there purely for your pleasure. Terrific! Don’t get me wrong – Paul is marvellous in bed, but sometimes I think to myself wouldn’t it be sensational to be absolutely selfish. Just lie back and give the orders, and don’t worry about whether it’s good for him or not. Bliss! It comes to me in a sudden flash why female hookers have always been so popular! Imagine telling a husband or lover to give you head for four hours – he’d laugh you out of bed. But a male hooker – the pursuit of personal pleasure would be limitless!’

‘You could always buy one of those vibrating tongues they advertise in
Movie World
.’

‘Dallas! Where’s your sense of togetherness? I don’t want a vibrating tongue. I want the whole man! Hey – how much do you think they charge?’

‘You’re not serious, are you?’

‘Why not? When I was in analysis my shrink always used to tell me not to hold back. “Experience the fruits of life,” he would say.’

‘Why did you stop?’

‘He wanted me to experience his penis. Right in the middle of a fifty-dollar session! He was about eighty and totally bald. I’m sure you can understand why I declined.’

Dallas toyed with her coffee. ‘I… I really don’t understand.’

‘Huh?’

‘I mean I don’t understand people’s – er – hang-up with sex. And believe me, Linda, I’ve had so many men. Bald, eighty, young, rich. You name it, I’ve had it. And you know, it all means nothing. I couldn’t care less if I never went to bed with another man. Sex turns me off – not on.’

Linda nodded. ‘I can understand your attitude. Christ, you’ve told me enough about your life for me to realize the problems you must have.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Analysis would be really good for you, help you sort things into perspective. And then you need a really terrific guy to get you together in bed. You need a
loving
relationship.’

‘I was thinking of Cody…’

‘The agent guy you told me about?’

‘Yes. He’s been so kind. He’s really nice, and I know that he wants to go to bed with me.’

‘Do you love him?’

Dallas laughed bitterly. ‘What’s love, Linda? That’s one scene that will never come my way.’

‘Don’t be so sure…’

‘Of that I’m sure. I like Cody. I guess I respect him…’

‘And you would grit your teeth and sleep with him. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘Forget it. You need a little passion in your life if it’s ever going to work for you.’ Linda drained her coffee, refilled her cup. ‘I’m going to make a really bizarre suggestion, you’ll think I’m nuts, but think about it before you say no. You’ve spent most of your life operating as a hooker, servicing guys, seeing that they get their rocks off in just the way
they
want it. Any perversion goes, right?’

Dallas nodded.

‘Well,’ Linda continued, ‘who more than you could use the ministrations of a male hooker? For me it would be a luxury. For you it could be a necessity.’

‘Oh no, I don’t think…’

‘Wait. Give it some thought. What’s to lose? Right now you hate sex. Well, you’re an intelligent girl,
you know
that is not a normal attitude. Not the gateway to a balanced and happy life. Cure yourself. Find out what
you
like. Find out with a guy who is there just to give
you
pleasure.’

They were both silent for a moment, digesting what Linda had said.

‘Do you know,’ Linda continued, ‘that in sex therapy they pay partners to give you pleasure. It works. Thousands of men and women have been cured. Frigid women. Impotent men. Premature ejaculation. All kinds of things. I’m not saying that’s
your
problem – but whatever your hang-up I’m sure it can be cured with the right treatment. I have to confess to you that I find sex one of the joys of life – and you’re my friend – I don’t want you to miss out. You are so young and beautiful. Sort yourself out now. Put the past behind you. Jesus, I’m talking too much. Give me a cigarette and shut me up.’

Silently Dallas handed her a cigarette, and shook one from the pack for herself, although she didn’t normally smoke.

‘It’s not such a bad idea, Linda,’ she finally said, ‘I guess it does make sense. There have been times – far and few between – when I’ve realized sex can be a kick…’

‘Terrific. At least you know what I’m talking about. Touching, feeling, giving way to pure sensual delight. Nothing like it, kid.’

‘Maybe a sex therapy clinic…’

‘Maybe not. You want the world to know your secrets? Soon you’ll be famous, television makes you a star overnight. A male hooker – maybe Diamond’s guy. Much more discreet. He doesn’t have to know your secrets, he’s just there to give you a good time. A clinic will investigate you like the CIA!’

Suddenly Dallas began to laugh. ‘Honestly, Linda! Can you imagine
me
paying for it! What a switch!’

‘Stranger things have happened… Hey, I think you should get dressed and get those negatives over to the bank. I think I’ll feel better when they’re locked up.’

Dallas stubbed out her hardly-used cigarette, ‘Yes, boss.’ She got up, glanced out of the window at the California sunshine.

‘Linda? You don’t
have
to leave today, do you?’

Linda drained her coffee, thought briefly of Paul. Realized that he hadn’t even bothered to call her yet.

‘No, I guess I don’t.’

‘That’s great. I’ll call Cody, let him know I’m back, then he can take us out to lunch – I do want you to meet him.’

‘Can’t wait.’

‘You’ll like him, I know you will.’

Watching Dallas, Linda was surprised at the gradual change in her. When they had first met, Dallas had been a very withdrawn, cold person. Of course she understood the reasons why now, but it was wonderful to observe the emergence of a much freer, warmer personality.