Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (10 page)

Venus could elicit a hard-on from a stone statue!

All of a sudden he forgot about Leslie and Jeff as she slid to her knees. His wife was a very accomplished woman. Very—

“God!” he groaned, arching his back as her tongue began flicking lightly back and forth across the tip of his penis.

“Shhh…” She silenced him by reaching up and placing a finger on his lips. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

Then, after a few moments of teasing, her full mouth enclosed his hardness and nothing else mattered as he gave himself up to the sensation of riding the wave as she sucked him dry of all desire, leaving him spent and extraordinarily satisfied.

The entire event took less than three minutes. Fast sex, like fast food, could sometimes do more than all the gourmet meals in the world.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, totally content. “That was really something!”

Venus rose from her knees, plucked a Kleenex from a box on the vanity, and daintily dabbed her lips. “Figured you seemed a touch tense, Coop. Thought I’d relax you.”

“You’re unbelievable!” he said and laughed.

“I try to please,” she said, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

“Well, you do,” he replied, stretching his arms high above his head.

“You’d miss me if we weren’t married, wouldn’t you, Coop?” she teased, staring at him through the glass.

He turned her around, cuddling her close. “I miss you every minute we’re not together,” he said seductively, the full Cooper Turner charm machine on alert.

Lying
,

cheating

sonofabitch
.

Gently, she pushed him away. “We’d better get back. I’m sure Felix has plenty more to tell me about his talented tongue.”

“Talking of talented tongues…” Cooper said. “When we get home tonight…”

“Yes?”

“You’ll see,” he said confidently.

“I will?”

“Oh, yes, you will. I owe you one.” He zipped up, took one last glance in the mirror, and unlocked the door. “Let’s leave early tonight, honey, I can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Whatever you like,” Venus replied, obliging to the end. “Whatever turns you on.”

“
HOW COME YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN TO SEE ME?
”

“Just your bad luck, I guess,” Brigette replied with exactly the right amount of sass.

Michel Guy’s heavy-lidded eyes swept over her, lingering on her breasts, provocatively on show in her sexy Hervé Leger dress. “Come to my office tomorrow,” he said. “Bring your book.”

“I would,” Brigette replied agreeably, “only I’m kind of on an assignment.”

“Doing what?”

“A foreign catalogue.”

“Which one?”

“Uh…it’s a favor for a friend,” she said vaguely.

“Who’s the photographer?”

“Uh…the photographer…”

Michel started to chuckle. “You’re a very pretty girl,” he said. “
Very
pretty. However,
ma chérie
, there are a lot of pretty girls in New York trying to be models. A word of advice—don’t fake it—be truthful.”

“I’m always truthful,” she said, “when it works.”

He scratched his chin. “Have you done the rounds?”

“I’ve only been in New York a short time.”

“So you haven’t seen any other agents?”

To hell with truthful. “Not yet,” she lied.

“Here’s my card,” he said. “Be at my office, ten
A.M.
tomorrow. There might be something you’re right for.”

Brigette couldn’t wait to find Nona and thank her for the introduction. “This is, like,
soo
great,” she enthused, her eyes gleaming excitedly. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with Michel Guy for ages.”

“Michel’s got a reputation as an ass grabber,” Nona warned. “He’s living with that English model—Robertson—you know, the one who’s so skinny you could slide her through a crack in a French window. Everyone knows he’s taken. It doesn’t stop him—he still hits on all the girls.”

Brigette was determined. “If he’s with Robertson, he’s hardly likely to come on to me, she’s incredible.”

“When has that stopped any man?” Nona said, tossing back her bright red hair. “So, tell me…what do you think of Zandino?”

“Major cute. Only I thought you wanted somebody who was already…y’know, established.”

“Nobody
old
,” Nona said, wrinkling her nose. “They have to be under thirty. I can’t deal with anybody, like, you know, older than that. Can you?”

Brigette hadn’t really thought about it. So far, all her relationships had been with younger men.

She took another look across the room at Michel Guy. He had crinkly grayish-blond hair, a weathered tan, and faded blue eyes.

“How old do you think Michel is?” she asked.

“Forty-something. Pretty ancient.”

“Forty-something isn’t ancient.”

“Keep it business,” Nona said sternly, wagging a warning finger.

“I’m not about to
sleep
with him.” Brigette laughed. “Although he
is
attractive.”

“There’s my boss,” Nona said, on to the next subject.
“Charm her. Maybe she’ll put you on the cover of
MONDO
.”

“You think?”

“Just kidding, but you may as well meet her.”

They headed across the room for another opportunity.

“Get on top,” Alex demanded.

“It’s enough, Alex, I’ve had enough,” Tin Lee cried, her compact, naked body slick with sweat.

Alex had been pumping away inside her for twenty minutes and to her dismay he remained ramrod hard. He’d popped two amyl nitrate capsules and was still drunk.

Tin Lee was not enjoying herself. This man was big and rough and not a gentleman in bed. She wanted out.

Alex grabbed her around the waist, hauling her on top of him. She felt herself impaled, like a thing, an object. He wasn’t treating her nicely. No foreplay. No touching. Nothing except a relentless pounding.

And yet…the truth was…she
did
want a role in his upcoming movie. And he
was
Alex Woods—a very important and famous director. And maybe…if he’d let her…she could teach him things in bed—like how to pleasure a woman—because right now, what she was going through was uncomfortable and humiliating. Wasn’t he
ever
going to come?

Alex shut his eyes and attempted to concentrate. The problem was that when his eyes were closed, the world took off, leaving him dizzy and confused. God, he hated drinking. Hated the effect. Hated getting up the next morning and suffering from his excesses.

His mother drove him to it every time. His fucking mother and her fucking put-downs. Why couldn’t she leave him alone?

Tin Lee moaned on top of him. Or was it more an anguished cry of exhaustion?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Dominique was right. Tin Lee should go out and find a nice boy her own age. What the fuck was she doing with
him
?

Abruptly he rolled away from her. Still hard, he finished himself off.

This did not make Tin Lee happy. She jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, she was fully dressed.

“I’m going home, Alex,” she said in a small, flat voice.

He nodded, too tired and disgusted to say anything.

She left his apartment and he heard silence—an eerie, earth-shattering silence that was enough to drive a man crazy.

Burying his head under a pillow, he fell into a troubled sleep.

Leslie Kane was nervous. Something had happened and she didn’t know what. Cooper had definitely cooled toward her and she couldn’t figure out why. He sat on her right at the round dining table, Jeff on her left. She’d imagined this would drive Cooper crazy with jealousy. It didn’t. He seemed disinterested—almost cool as he chatted amiably to Felix’s dyke wife. Leslie knew Muriel Zimmer was a dyke because in her past life as a highly paid call girl, she’d been summoned to the Zimmers’ mansion one night with two other girls; the three of them had been given diaphanous robes and elaborate Venetian masks and then been led into an all-black bedroom with a huge circular waterbed, where Mrs. Zimmer had awaited them wearing nothing but thigh-high rubber wading boots and a big, toothy leer.

Leslie remembered the evening well. Mrs. Zimmer obviously didn’t. Thank God she was into masks!

Leslie could not stop herself from saying something to Cooper, although she knew it was hardly an appropriate time. “Have I done anything to upset you?” she whispered, groping for his thigh under the cover of the long damask tablecloth.

“Huh?” He looked at her vaguely, like they were nothing more than casual acquaintances.

“Cooper…” she murmured, thinking of how he’d been earlier in the day—his head buried between her legs, his expert touch burning into her skin.

“Not now, Leslie,” he muttered, removing her hand as he turned once again to Muriel Zimmer.

Leslie felt a horrible lump in her throat. She…was…losing…him.

How had it happened so quickly? When he’d walked into her house two hours ago, he’d been all over her.

Jeff Stoner leaned toward her, speaking in a low, intimate voice. He resembled a young Harrison Ford. She didn’t care, he did not captivate her interest one iota.

“Leslie,” he said earnestly. “Inviting me here tonight was so damn sweet. In the Hollywood scheme of things, I’m nothing, a nobody. Only you don’t care, ’cause you see me as a guy you like, a friend. No bullshit. You’re somethin’ else.”

Oh, God, Jeff thought she was so sweet, yet all she’d been doing was using him. Now her clever scheme to make Cooper jealous was backfiring.

Venus Maria, who’d been holding court at the table with the country singer and the clothes designer, suddenly stood up, tapping the side of her champagne glass with a fork. “Can I say something here?” she said, silencing the table. “I think
somebody’s
gotta say something, ’cause this is such a special night.” She smiled at Leslie—a warm, loving smile. “Leslie, dear, you’ve put on such a
very
impressive show. Company interesting, food delicious—I mean, what more can any of us want?
In fact, I feel so comfortable here tonight that I’m about to share a big secret with all of you.”

Cooper wondered what his unpredictable wife was going to share now.

“Everyone, raise your champagne glasses,” Venus continued. “First we’re toasting our lovely hostess, Leslie Kane. Oh, and I know this might surprise some of you, or maybe not—but this toast is also for Cooper—my fantastic husband. You see, the truth is…” A long, provocative pause, “Leslie and Cooper are having an affair.”

Jaws dropped around the table, and a heavy silence descended.

“And although I’m a
very
understanding wife,” Venus continued brightly, “and
extremely
open-minded, there comes a point in every relationship when one has to say enough is enough. So…dear Cooper,” she tilted her glass at him, “I’m taking this opportunity to tell you and Leslie,” she lifted her glass toward Leslie, who sat in stunned silence, “that you can continue your affair as long as you care to. Because, my dear Cooper, I’m divorcing you.”

Muriel Zimmer said, “Ohmigod!”

The rest of them were silent.

Venus carried on. “Even as we sit here, Coop, your clothes are being moved out of our house and into the Beverly Hills Hotel, where I’m sure you’ll be very happy. That’s, of course, if you don’t move in with Leslie. I have no idea how accommodating she is. Maybe she’s getting it on with young Jeff here, who knows? Anyway, Coop, I don’t want you to be surprised when you try to get into our house and find your key doesn’t work.”

Cooper stood up, his face flushed with anger. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked tightly.

“That’s
exactly
what I thought in the beginning,” Venus said pleasantly. “You screwing Leslie
had
to be a
joke—’cause little Leslie here,
sweet
, innocent Leslie, the darling of America, used to be a hooker.”

Leslie’s stomach dropped.

Another “Ohmigod!” from Muriel.

“Really, Coop,” Venus admonished. “You must be the only guy in town who doesn’t know Leslie was one of Madame Loretta’s girls.”

A nerve twitched in Cooper’s left cheek as he listened to his wife. No point in trying to stop her, she was on a roll.

Venus turned to Leslie again. “Not that I hold it against you, dear, everybody has to do whatever they can to survive;
I
certainly did. But, you know what? You’ve also got to learn who you can fuck and who you can’t. And if you jump into bed with
my
husband, you’d better be sure I approve, ’cause if I don’t, I can be
very
mean, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Leslie sat absolutely still as her world crashed around her. She loathed Venus with a hatred she’d only felt for one other human being, and that was her stepfather—the man who’d molested her night after night with sickening regularity.

“Anyway,” Venus continued cheerfully, “allow me to finish my toast. This evening was great, but right now I gotta go. I have a hot date waiting at my house, and I hate to keep ’em waiting when they’re
really
hot. Oh, yes, and Felix,” she added, winking boldly at the lecherous producer, “thought you’d like to know…Cooper gives great head.” She returned her attention to her errant husband. “So…Coop, guess I’ll see you around, babe.”

And with that she blew him a kiss and made a very effective exit. So effective that nobody noticed the tears in her eyes.

NONA’S BOSS, AURORA MONDO CARPENTER, WAS
a tiny, brittle woman with watery eyes and cut-glass cheekbones. She was of an indeterminate age, but Nona confided to Brigette that she had to be in her seventies.

Brigette was amazed. “Wow!” she said. “She doesn’t look like any grandmother
I’ve
ever seen.”

Aurora’s personal stamp was all over
MONDO
. She’d created the magazine and been at the helm for over twenty-five years. She was married to one of New York’s top architects, and often wrote coy little articles about him in her magazine, claiming they had the best sex life in New York. Aurora was quite a character.

Nona was not in awe of her, she’d known her since she was a small child, and Aurora was a close friend of her mother’s, so she felt quite comfortable taking Brigette over to meet her.

“This is my friend,” she announced. “Brigette’s the hottest model in L.A.”

“Really?” Aurora said, raising a thinly penciled eyebrow. “How many covers have you appeared on, dear?”

“Actually,” Brigette said, thinking fast, “I recently returned from Europe.”

“How many
European
covers were you on?”

“Oh, God!” Nona said, quickly butting in. “You can’t even count them, there were so many!”

“Why haven’t you mentioned Brigette before?” Aurora inquired.

“She wasn’t in the country. Thing is—Aurora, I had this brilliant idea that
MONDO
should be the first to use her. I mean, she’s going to be
huge
. Michel Guy wants to sign her.”

Aurora nodded agreeably at Brigette. “Come along to my office tomorrow, dear, we’ll take tea together.”

“I’d love that,” Brigette said, bright blue eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“Bring your portfolio,” Aurora said. “So I can peruse your covers. And don’t forget your test sheets.”

“I’ll be there,” Brigette assured her.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Nona said, “Have you
got
photographs?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them until I landed a job.”

“You’re impossible,” Nona said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Surely you
knew
you had to be prepared? No wonder nothing’s happened for you.”

“It’s not as if I’ve been doing this all my life,” Brigette said huffily.

“Okay, okay, everything’s under control, ’cause I’ve come up with a cool idea.”

“Like what?”

“Like
I’m
going to be your manager.”

“
You?
” Brigette exclaimed, choking back a derisive laugh. “What do
you
know about being a manager?”

“Who got you an intro to Aurora Bora Alice?” Nona said. “Who fixed you up with Michel Guy? Who’s gonna get you test shots?”

“Well, since you put it like that…”

“Ten percent,” Nona said firmly, “which right now is ten percent of nothing. A deal?”

“I guess we could give it a try,” Brigette said hesi
tantly; after all, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. The truth was, there was nobody pushier than Nona.

Nona nodded, satisfied with her reply. “There’s Luke Kasway.
I’ll
do the talking. The good news is, he’s gay. The bad news is, he can be a bit testy. If he insults you, take no notice.”

“Why would he insult me?”

“It’s his way. He calls it ‘constructive criticism.’ Luke is such an awesome photographer that he gets away with it.”

Luke Kasway was short and compact with a spiky crew cut. He wore a multicolored Versace shirt, baggy blue jeans, white sneakers, and owl-like rimless glasses. Two gold earrings adorned one ear, while the other featured a small diamond stud.

Nona did her usual introduction, praising Brigette big time.

Luke didn’t fall for it. “Get real, Nona, your friend’s never modeled in her life.”

“She’s big in Europe and L.A.,” Nona insisted.

Luke laughed disbelievingly. “I’m in L.A. all the time,
I’ve
never seen her.” He gave Brigette a penetrating stare. “Be honest, have you done anything at all?”

Brigette brushed a nervous hand through her hair, wondering which way to play it. “Actually,” she confessed, “I haven’t.”

“I like a girl who tells the truth,” Luke said, pushing up his glasses, which had a habit of slipping off his nose. “When I’ve got time, we’ll take some test shots, ’cause I gotta admit—you do have a certain quality.”

“Told you!” Nona said triumphantly.

“Whether that quality will shine through the lens is another thing,” Luke continued. “Some girls can be insanely sexy in real life, trouble is—if they can’t make out with the camera, they’re dead meat.”

“When can we do this?” Nona asked, grabbing the
opportunity. “She’s got an interview with Michel Guy tomorrow, and Aurora’s considering her for a cover.”

“I’m booked for the next three weeks,” Luke said. “Then I’m off to the Caribbean, where I’m doing nothing but lying on the beach checking out hot young cabana boys.”

“Oh,
c’mon
, Luke,” Nona wheedled. “You can do this favor for me.”

“Can’t, sweetheart,” he replied, regretfully shaking his head. “I’m booked solid.”

“What about
now
?” Nona pleaded. “Let’s go to your studio and take a few shots tonight.
Pleeese
, Luke, it means so much to me.”

“You’re pushy, exactly like your mother,” Luke said peevishly.

“
Nobody’s
pushy like her,” Nona retorted.

He laughed. “Okay, okay,” he said, turning to Brigette. “Are you up for it?”

She nodded.
This
was the opportunity she’d been waiting for.

“Then let’s go.”

“Can I bring my fiancé?” Nona asked.

“Didn’t know you were engaged.”

“He’s horny and major cute, you’ll fall in love. Hands off!”

“Bring him, as long as he doesn’t talk.”

Nona pouted. “You’re so mean, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

Luke Kasway’s studio was in SoHo—near the Tribeca area. Brigette, Nona, and Zandino arrived by cab, following Luke, who’d gone ahead in his own car. They piled out of the cab outside his building.

“This is so cool!” Nona said excitedly. “Luke’s the greatest!”

Zandino rang the bell downstairs. After a few moments, Luke buzzed them in. The three of them climbed into an open freight elevator and rode to the top of the large industrial building.

“Welcome, kids,” Luke said, greeting them at the heavy stainless steel door.

“We’re here!” Nona exclaimed. “Ready for action!”

“I can see that,” Luke said, ushering them into his enormous studio.

“Incredible space!” Brigette said, taking in the blowup photographs of all the top models adorning the whitewashed walls.

“Who wants a drink?” Luke asked.

“I don’t drink,” Brigette replied, still staring at the photographs, wondering if she’d ever be as famous as the girls in them.

“I’ll have a bourbon and water,” Nona said.

“That’s a very grown-up drink for a kid I’ve known since she was twelve,” Luke remarked, walking over to a functional all-white and glass-block bar.

“I’m a
very
grown-up girl,” Nona retorted, following him.

“So I can see.”

“Oh, Luke, this is Zandino, my fiancé,” she said, beckoning Zandino over.

Luke gave Zandino an appreciative once-over. “Drink?” he said.

Zandino beamed his toothy grin. “Coca-Cola, please.”

Luke squinted at him. “Nice robe,” he said.

“Traditional,” Zandino replied, still beaming.

Nona giggled. “We thought we’d blow my parents’ minds if he wore it to their party tonight.”

“
Nothing
would blow Effie’s and Yul’s minds,” Luke said. “They’re the most liberal couple in New York,
and
the most interesting.” He handed them their drinks. Then he stepped back, taking a long, critical look at
Brigette. “Okay,” he said. “What are we doing here?”

“
You’re
the photographer,” Nona pointed out.

Luke ignored her. “Okay, babe,” he said to Brigette. “Kick off your shoes and go stand in front of the camera over there.”

She stepped out of her Blahnik pumps, placing herself in front of a plain blue backdrop.

Luke threw a switch on the stereo and Annie Lennox’s throaty voice flooded the studio.

“Major point—relax,” he said, loading film into two cameras. “I’ll shoot a couple of rolls of black-and-white, some color, and we’ll see what happens. No big deal. Don’t get nervous on me.”

Now that she was finally in front of a camera, Brigette felt her confidence level sink. She was suddenly awkward and unsure about what to do. She’d imagined herself on a Paris runway, strolling snootily along, clad in a top designer’s outfit, giving everybody that disgusted look like they should drop dead because she was so hot. But standing in front of an actual camera was totally intimidating.

“Imagine the camera’s your lover,” Luke said, positioning himself behind it. “You’ve had a lover, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied indignantly.

“Good. So make out with the camera, get those pretty eyes working. Let your hair fall over your face…that’s it…now bring your head down, we’re gonna see if we can create magic here.”

She began to pose, gradually getting into it as the music swept over her.

As soon as she did anything Luke considered obvious, he started yelling. “Be natural,” he shouted. “Natural! Natural! Get it?”

He clicked off several rolls of film, then produced his Polaroid and ran off more photos.

Nona and Zandino stood on the sidelines, cheering her on.

After an hour of nonstop activity, Luke was finally ready to quit. He yawned and stretched. “I think we got it,” he said. “Whatever
it
might be.”

“When can we see the photos?” Nona asked.

“Call my assistant in the morning.”

Brigette was on an adrenaline high. She began wandering around the studio again, still fascinated by all the photos on the walls. Among the models there was a scattering of celebrities: Sylvester Stallone in a cowboy hat, Winona Ryder wearing a red bustier, Jon Bon Jovi bare-chested. “Do you know all these people?” she asked Luke.

“Of course he does,” Nona replied, picking up a giant blow-up photograph of Robertson and Nature—another famous model, wearing nothing but skintight blue jeans and alluring smiles, their hands covering their breasts.

“
Some
picture,” Nona exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “That’s the ad campaign I’m doing for Rock ’n’ Roll Jeans—you heard of them?”

“Nope.”

“You will. They’re gonna be bigger than Guess and Calvin Klein combined.”

“Really,” Nona said, her interest perking up. “The only thing is,” she added, studying the photo, “there’s nothing unusual about this ad. Two girls…every guy’s fantasy, only it’s been done a million times. Robertson and Nature have been on every cover, from
Vogue
to
Allure
. It’s not cutting edge, Luke. Using them for a hot new ad campaign is, like—you know—kinda old news.” She paused, gazing at him innocently. “You don’t mind me saying that, do you?”

“Yeah, I mind,” Luke replied, not pleased with her criticism.

“I’m just being truthful.”

He pushed his glasses onto his nose. “Do me a big one, Nona—go be truthful somewhere else.”

“Don’t get uptight.
I’m
the girl who’s going to buy the product.”

He looked at her, perplexed. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t buy these jeans simply because the models have appeared in ads for other things?”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He snorted with aggravation. “You’re a pain in the ass, Nona—you always were.”

“I’m an
honest
pain in the ass,” she said, taking a long pause before adding, “Now, if
Brigette
was wearing the jeans.”

“I suppose you want me to photograph her in them, is that your game?”

“What’s to lose?” Nona said, wide-eyed.

Luke sighed. “Okay, Brigette, go in the dressing room. You’ll see a rack of jeans, pick out your size and put ’em on, then come back out here. No top.”

“I’m not doing nudity,” Brigette objected. Luke Kasway might be a big-deal photographer, but she wasn’t taking off her clothes for anyone.

“Cover your boobs with your hands,” Luke said. “Copy what those girls are doing in the photo.”

Nona nodded her approval. “Go ahead.”

Oh, yeah, fine for Nona to say go ahead, it wasn’t
her
stripping down.

She went into the dressing room, found jeans in her size, and wriggled into them.

She felt like an idiot covering her breasts with her hands, then she assured herself that all models did a certain amount of nudity; after all, it wasn’t as if she were posing for
Playboy
.

She emerged, waiting for Luke’s instructions.

“Okay, over there,” he said, gesturing to a different setup—this time a brick-wall backdrop. “Face the wall, legs apart, swing around when I tell you.”

She did as he asked.

Luke peered through his lens, making grunting noises. “Nice one, Brigette. Lower your head, bring your eyes up, lick your lips. That’s it.”

Zandino, standing on the sidelines, said, “It looks good.”

Luke glanced at him. “You ever had any pictures taken?”

Zandino beamed. “Snapshots when I graduated.”

“Another idea,” Luke said, snapping away. “Does he have a body, Nona?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does he have a body!”

Luke grinned. “I should’ve known. We always shared the same taste, even when you were twelve!” He turned back to Zandino. “Go in the dressing room, find jeans in your size.”

Nona saw the possibilities. “Yes, Zan, do it,” she encouraged, giving him a little push. “It’s just for laughs.”

“Really?” Zandino asked unsurely.

“
Really
,” Nona assured him.

A few minutes later Zandino emerged. His body was toned, taut, and a delicious deep-chocolate hue. The jeans fit him as if they were sprayed on.