The road, in need of repair, stretched for males, turning and twisting all the way into the dark gray mountains in the distance. The only sounds were from insects and nocturnal birds, and sometimes short, light breezes blew through the trees, swaying the branches, and rustling through the leaves.
In the summer, not many people used the road during the day, and at night it was always completely deserted. It would have been on this warm night too, except for the old car parked among some trees and the two young people locked in eacn other's arms on a plaid blanket just behind a small green hill.
Dan looked younger than his twenty-one years. His brown, curly hair was a little long and unruly, his height and build average; perhaps he was a little slim. At least, Laura was always kidding him about putting some weight on.
"You have no .behind at all," she laughed, running her hands all over his body. "What do you sit on?"
He kissed her neck. "You have enough for both of us," he said, grabbing hers firmly with both his hands.
She bit his ear, stuck her tongue inside, and explored, leaving moistness behind that turned cool from the night air. "I do not. It's not big at al.. Is it?"
"No," he laughed, "just right."
He wasn't lying. Laura was nineteen with a body that was young and firm and beautifully proportioned. Her legs were long and slender, becoming round and full at the thighs. Her hips were strong yet soft, her stomach flat. Her breasts were upright, and now as he touched them with his fingers and kissed and drew on them with his mouth and tongue, her large pink nipples became erect.
"Like tiny flower buds," he whispered, while she drew in her breath and closed her eyes.
"Oh Dan, that's so good." Long blond hair framed her delicate well-formed features.
He moved his hands down her body to her legs and thighs and between. He felt her warmth becoming wet through her white panties, the only clothing she still wore. He quickly rose and removed his own pants, the last of has clothing, and kneeling down beside her, began to work her panties down her thighs, exposing the soft, hot tangle of wiry fur.
"So sweet" he murmured, kissing her stomach, his laps traveling lower; "so sweet," while she began to move her legs from side to side.
"Oh Dan now, please now," she said, her fingers searching lightly along his thighs for his maleness, finding it, stroking it, while he probed her apart with his trembling fingers, and then as his mouth pressed on hers, their tongues colliding, he merged his body into hers, and the two became one, rocking up and down and to the side in a rhythm that slowly built, until he was all the way inside her. She gasped, "Oh Dan, oh, don't stop, oh God, don't stop." They moved faster and faster, until he felt her close tightly on him and shudder throughout the length of her body, as he, for one dizzying failing instant, opened up, and she felt the sudden heat of his wet flow.
It was so good, she thought, completely relaxed for a moment, until suddenly she cried, "Dan, oh my God, it broke! I feel it flowing into me. I have to stand up or something. Take me to the drugstore. Oh, how did it break?"
He looked at her without moving. "Nothing broke. I didn't wear one."
"You didn't what?" she said, her blue eyes wide with uncertainty, and some anger mixed with fear. "But why not. Why not?"
"Because this is our last time together. And if something comes of it, then it should. I mean, I didn't want to leave it up to just us this time. Now God or whatever has a hand in it."
"What are you talking about? We're not married. How can I have your baby? And what do you mean our last time? Why? Why? How could you do this?"
"Because I love you."
"I love you too, but why?" she said, getting back into her clothes, her body strangely white in the night's natural light.
"I've been drafted."
"What? But when, you didn't tell me, you.."
"I report tomorrow. I didn't know how to tell you. And I wanted to give us a chance to have a child."
"Are you losing your mind?"
"No, but I'll probably be going to Viet Nam and I don't know if I'll come back. So I did this.. I'm sorry."
She looked at him for a moment and then put her arms around him and, burying her face in his chest, began to sob.
"I wasn't thinking about you, I guess. But I tried to. What kind of life would you have if we got married a few weeks ago. I figured. It wouldn't be fair. You'd just have to wait, for years. And then this afternoon, I thought of this, and a baby. I guess this was even more unfair to you. I wasn't thinking too clearly. I guess I was just scared, scared of dying."
"Oh, Dan, it's O.K. I understand."
"No, come on, we'll wash you out or something. Get some pills to bring it on. I must have been crazy."
They got dressed, a little selfconsciously now. They didn't talk again until they were both in the oar and Dan was pulling back onto the road. "Are you angry, Dan?"
"No, are you?"
"No."
"You know, Dan, I couldn't even expect help from my aunt and uncle. They'd throw me out. Maybe my real parents would have understood. Maybe they would have loved me enough."
"Yeath, I know. And my parents wouldn't help out either. My old man would kind of listen and shuffle around and wait for my mother to decide."
"And she would, too!"
"Would she ever!"
"What does she have against me, Dan?"
"Oh, you know, everything."
"But what? Why?"
"Listen, she has all the old ways. She wanted me, she actually wanted me to be a virgin until I got married. And when she found those rubbers in my drawer, well, she thinks I'm a tramp, and, of course, she thinks you're one too."
"But we've been going together for two years. And I've never, you know, done it with anyone else. I'm not a tramp. You don't think I'm a tramp, do you, Dan?"
"Of course not."
At the drugstore, the pharmacist who had known Dan and Laura for years, cooperated with Dan while Laura waited outside in the car. "Well, here's some pills and something for washing. Of course, neither one is a sure thing, but you probably have nothing to worry about. Odds are against you, boy."
"Well, thanks, Mr. Donaldson." 'That's O.K., boy. Next time you be more careful, hear?"
"Yes, sir, and thanks again." He hurried out
"Sorry I was so long," he said to Laura, getting back behind the wheel and driving through the sleepy, empty, small town streets in the direction of her home.
It was a gray, two-story, wooden house, in need of a paint job. There was a small yard-garden in front, fairly well kept, but the small wooden packet gate was m need of repair.
Laura had lived here with her aunt and uncle for the past ten years, ever since her mother and father had died in an auto accident. She had been asleep in the back seat and miraculously, had come out of the accident unscathed, at least, physically.
He turned off the motor and sat there in silence, has brown eyes staring into her blue ones. Now it was time to talk of the other subject, the one that had been absent from their conversation but not from their thoughts.
"Dan, I can't believe you're going away. I just can't believe it It's not fair. It's just not fair."
He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you'll be going to New York now."
She thought for a minute and started to cry. "I guess so. But I didn't want to go like this. I wanted to go with you. Remember, you would write and I would try to become an actress. It was all so nice, so different from this. Oh, Dan," and she cried now without trying to hold it back, unable to hold any of it back any longer. "Oh, Dan."
"Will you write to me?"
"Oh, yes, yes. Every day."
"HI write to you. No matter what." They sat together there in that front seat holding each other tightly without saying a word, for what seemed like hours. Until the dawn broke, the sky became light and the sun came up, spreading its morning heat. From the trees in the back of the house, the shrill sound of birds could be heard.
Laura was sleeping against Dan. He woke her up gently. "I've got to go now." He kissed her long and tender by and then hard-then she broke from his arms, bolted out the door and ran, crying again, into her house without looking back.
Later that morning, Laura awoke feeling empty and depressed. Dan was gone. She looked about her room at the book case with the picture of her parents on it, their wedding picture-how happy they looked. You can't plan for the future, Laura said to herself, because you never know if there will be one or when it will be snatched from you.
She looked at the faded pink colored walls, at the pictures of her favorite movie stars, Marlon Brando and James Dean and Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor, cut out from the fan magazines she read when she was younger and which her aunt and uncle still read. Often she felt that she was older than they.
She got up and looked out her window, at the trees and grass. The view never really changed. It stayed the same just like her room, just like her Me.
She got up and went to her drawer, took out a small case and from it removed her bank book she had $483, with some interest coming.
Downstairs her uncle had already finished breakfast and had gone to work. Her aunt busy at the stove.
"Well, young lady, it's about time you got yourself out of that bed. And its no wonder, I heard you come in last night, or should I say, this morning."
"Please, Aunt Beth, let's not argue, not this morning."
"Oh, you don't feel well," the older woman said in mock affection, adding sarcastically, "well, then I won't say a word. You're too delicate, too lady-like."
Laura didn't answer.
"A lady-like tramp doing God knows that with that other young bum. While I sit here worrying."
Laura drank her juice and coffee and pushed the scrambled eggs away. "You won't have to worry anymore. I'm going away."
"You're what? Where?"
"To New York."
"To become an actress," the last word said with ail the venom a fifty year old, childless, frustrated, frigid woman can build up over fifty-odd unhappy years........
"Yes, to become an actress."
"A tramp you mean. A slut."
"Is that the way you're going to say good-by after ten years?"
"Go, if you're going. Go to New York with the rest of the tramps. And you'll end up like your mother, carrying a child before you're married-the way she carried you." She turned to the sink to wash. the rest of the morning's dishes.
Laura stood up suddenly. "She loved my father and they got married as soon as they found out about-about her condition."
"A shot-gun wedding. My own sister. I'll never live it down."
"They were in love."
"Love? Your word for it. Just to satisfy her, disgusting lust."
"I can't talk to you. I never could. Good-by. Say good-toy to Uncle BUI for me."
She ran up the stairs and packed aM her clothes and the diary she used to keep in her suitcase. In a side compartment, she placed the picture of her parents. Then she closed the bag. It was brown and it lay there on her bed and she thought, this is all I have, this is everything, this shabby brown valise.
She thought of the promises she and Dan had made to each other. When his time was up he'd come to New York. They'd get married and love each other and be good to each other always. Always. That was she was really taking with her, packed inside herself, those words. She put the bank book in her handbag, picked up her suitcase, looked once around the empty room.
Two hours later she was on a bus, watching the side of the road speed by outside the window. Next to her an older man, seemingly absent-mindedly touched her leg, and introduced himself. He talked and kept touching her leg, until, very nervous and not knowing just how to handle the situation, she got up, excused herself and changed her seat, sitting next to an older woman who was dozing. She was nineteen and alone, and in about twelve hours, she would be in New York.
CHAPTER TWO
She took a room at the YWCA and bought the theatrical papers, Backstage and Show Business, and on Sunday bought the New York Times. She was very lonely, and too frightened to go out at night at first, but she had been to New York before and she had planned for a long time everything she would do. During the day she walked around, amazed just as before at the size of New York and at the millions of people all hurrying somewhere.
The theatrical papers listed auditions for various plays on and off Broadway, among other opportunities like pin-up models, exotic dancers, go go girls and actresses for exploitation films (whatever they were).
In high-school she had been a member of the dramatics club and from her junior year on, she had played the female leads in all the school plays. At the same time, with the little money her parents had left her, she managed to study voice and dance with the only teacher in her town.
She went for some auditions for off-Broadway but her past credits were very unimpressive. For every part, no matter how small, she was always surrounded by many other applicants, better dressed and more experienced, although few were more attractive. She learned that she needed an agent to get a job, but no agent would see her until she got a job first. It was a vicious circle. She was getting nowhere and her money was running out.
At one audition for the part of a maid, who had only one line, she met another girl, Noreen. Both failed to get the part but they had lunch together afterwards.
Noreen had long black hair that fell straight to her shoulders. Her makeup was applied heavily, dark outlined eyes with gray shadow, with a pale cream covering her skin. Her pink lips formed a natural pout. The black dress she wore was tight, worm high above her shapely legs and cut low in front, allowing for ample cleavage. She had on high black boots that matched her dress.
Laura's looks were more (JUiet, her beauty, though equal, was less flashy. Her blond hair also fell straight to her shoulders but she wore little makeup on her face and she wore a pink suit.
"Well, if you're so up tight for money, what do you intend to do now?" Noreen asked.
Laura picked up a cup of coffee and staring into the dark brown liquid. She shrugged her shoulders lightly: I don't know. I guess I'll have to look for any kind of job during the day. I can't go back home. I just can't."
"Oh, what a drag," Noreen said. She thought for a moment. "Look, did you ever think of becoming a dancer?"
"Well, I took lessons back home but.."
"No, no, I mean a go-go dancer. You know, in a discotheque."
"Oh no, I don't think I'm good enough."
Noreen laughed. "Honey, you don't have to dance good, you just have to look good. Some more makeup, black leotards cut low and nobody will care how you dance. Listen to me, I'll teach you all you have to know."
"Would you really? I don't know how to thank you."
"Forget it. Look, you can check out of that dyke haven you're living in and move in with me. As you start to work, we can share expenses. And I've been looking for a roommate anyway."
"Oh, great. This is rely my lucky day. Oh, here I was almost broke, no job, no friends, and now this. It's all too marvelous."
Noreen laughed, "We should get along just fine. I'll teach you everything you have to know. But you won't stay square long dancing in the Village. You'll be hip before you know it."
Laura's whole mood had changed. For the first time since she had come to New York, things seemed finally to be breaking her way. She was very impressed with Noreen, the way she looked, the words she used. Her whole attitude seemed to be one of complete assurance and confidence. Laura was prepared to learn all she could.
Noreen lived in two and a half rooms in a new 16 story apartment house in the west side of Greenwich Village. As they entered, a uniformed doorman opened the door. The lobby was small but well furnished and visitors had to use a telephone in the lobby to talk to whomever they had come to see before the doorman would allow them entrance.
They got off the elevator at the seventh floor. Noreen went rummaging around in her handbag for the key for a moment before the two entered.
The rooms were small, but the furniture was very modem and Laura Mked everything immediately. On the wall was a painting of many colored spirals, that seemed to hold and lead your eye in an op art effect.
"You ought to see it when you're stoned. Then it's really groovy."
Laura looked perplexed. "What?"
"Oh, I forgot. Small town and all that. When you're high, it looks better. Don't worry about it A couple weeks, you'll understand everything I say."
Suddenly from the bedroom, a husky male voice called out, "Hey, quiet down in there. I'm tryin' to get some sleep."
Noreen's face lit up with a wide smile. "Frankie. I'm glad you're here. I want you to meet my new roommate."
And from the bedroom, "New roommate? What..?" and the door opened and he came charging out, "the hell do you mean? No guy is gonna come in here and take.. Oh," he said, seeing Laura and changing the outraged tone of his voice to a softer, more friendly one. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you." He looked her up and down in so straight and appraising a manner that Laura blushed a deep red. "Very pleased."
"Hello," Laura said, somewhat flustered by his sudden and strange appearance. All he was wearing was a very brief pair of shorts. And they were red.
He, on the other hand, didn't seem embarrassed at all. He looked at her for a moment and then went up and kissed Noreen long and hard. "Now, come with me. I want to show you something."
Noreen broke away, laughing. "I know what you want to show me. I've seen it before and both of you can just wait a minute. It is the middle of the afternoon, you know. Besides I want you to meet Laura. She's going to be working at the club too, as soon as I teach her a few steps."
"Good," Frankie said. "Good. There's always room for new talent," and he and Noreen laughed.
"This handsome bastard who thinks he's much more irresistible than he is, is the host where I work."
"Oh," was all Laura could say, still embarrassed and not knowing exactly where to look. Frankie certainly was very handsome. He had black, wavy hair that he wore very long, like a Beatle, with a straight narrow nose, a strong chin and clear blue eyes. His body was slightly hairy, a dark tuft on his chest extending down in a fuzzy line to his red briefs. He was slightly muscular, as if he lifted weights but not that often. He certainly is handsome though, she thought.
Noreen seemed to be studying her reaction to finding Frankie there, and his lack of clothes. "Frank will help you bring all your things here later with his car."
"But first," he interrupted.
"First you'll show me," she laughed.
"Right," Frankie said, putting his arm around Noreen and walking her to the bedroom.
"There's the T.V. and the phonograph and the radio and some food in the 'rerrig,'" Noreen called over her shoulder as Frankie grabbed her ass and pushed her, laughing into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot.
Laura could hear their laughter and Noreen's squeals of delight but she was determined to leave behind what she now termed in her mind as small town morals. Here things were obviously different. Just coming here through the streets of Greenwich Village she had seen the strangest looking people she had ever seen in her life. And there was certainly no one like Frankie back home. Not that she would trade Dan for him. Not at all. Just that here, things were different, and she would have to grow up. She turned on the T. V.
While behind the closed door, Noreen yelled in mock terror as Frankie hurriedly unzippered her black dress and ground his body against hers and bit the soft white flesh that pushed against the tight black cups of her bra, leaving a pink mark.
Frantically, the two worked at removing her black stockings, garter belt, bra and finally her panties. Frankie licked her breasts and stroked her thighs. Lowering his head, he sank his teeth into her hips, again leaving marks.
She pulled down his red briefs, now grown too small. "Oh, now I see it," she said, putting her face closer, closer. "Oh, now I see it. Oh, and I like it," coming still closer, and opening her moist, pouting lips wide, "Oh," ..
Laura was watching her third T. V. program when Noreen and Frankie, both fully clothed, emerged from the room.
Again Frankie looked at her with the same undressing boldness for a moment before he spoke. "Well, now we'll get you moved. Noreen'll cook something up while we're gone."
"Forget it," Noreen said. "When you two come back, I'll be getting out of a hot tub and you, my man, will take us all out to eat."
"Oh," Laura said, "I don't want to.."
Frankie interrupted, "No trouble at al. Like I said, we can always use some new talent."
CHAPTER THREE
It was Friday might and the club was packed. Along the horse-shoe shaped bar, single young men outnumbered the unattached girls by about two to one. The girls wore short dresses with high boots, or ma'am-skirts or tight bell-bottom pants. Their hair was either short-"Sassoon"-or very long and straight, Greenwich Village style. Their eyes were heavily made-up, darkly outlined with black lashes and white shadow to make them look even larger. The guys were all types-long hair, short hair, young, old, dressed casually in bell-bottoms and bold shirts, or more formally in expensive suits.
Behind the bar, two men in red candy-striped shirts and a full bodied girl in blue tights mixed drinks quickly and efficiently. When the girl bent over to scoop up ice, her low cleavage became still lower, showing the long full V between her breasts, posing the round white flesh.
The girls sipped from their drinks, striking flattering poses, basking in the warmth of all the male eyes that followed all of their movements, engaging in the smali-fast-talk of the Friday night New York hunt for sex partners.
Beyond the bar were rows of tables surrounding a small highly waxed dance floor Med with people writhing and twisting and shaking their bodies, each alone in his own frenzy, dancing to the loud, pounding electric sound of the five long-haired young men on the slightly raised stage. Three played shining electric guitars, one an electric piano, and one behind pounded steadily, loudly, on the large set of drums, the sound filing the whole club, forcing conversations to be shouted directly into one's ear if the words were to be heard.
On either side of the stage there were two raised platforms made into cages with ropes extending to the ceiling. Inside each, a girl in a brief two-piece outfit that was cut low on her breasts and high on her thighs over meshed stockings, twisted and grinded and bumped to the savage rhythmic beat. The girls worked hard and after each number, tiny droplets of perspiration glistened on their necks and chests.
On this night, one of the girls in the cages was Noreen and the other was Laura. She had been living with Noreen for two weeks now and this was her first night in the club. Before she went on, she was nervous that she would not be good enough, but now in front of all these people she was made more nervous by all the male eyes that followed her movements, that avoided her eyes, but lingered on parts of her body, her breasts, her legs, her thighs, and between-eyes that stayed riveted, that shone with their wanting, making her feel naked and up for sale to the highest bidder.
But the spotlight that shown down on her, the crowd around her and the knowledge that she was performing also excited her, making her feel that she had finally taken her first step in Show Business. Who knew who might come into this club and see her-and discover her? It was possible. People had been discovered in stranger ways. And now she had a friend in Noreen, and even New York, large and hurrying and impersonal, was beginning to frighten her less and less.
She scanned the club with her eyes, going quickly over all the faces at the tables and at the bar, stopping for a second to smile at Frankie who was standing by the coat-check room, dressed in a tuxedo, and now leading a couple to a nearby table. He waved, a small motion, but one that told Laura everything was fine, she was fine, the club was fine; in fact, life was fine.
The owners, who usually weren't even there, like the contrast. The girl with black hair, looking hot and defiant on one side of the stage, and the girl with long blond hair, looking sweet and innocent on the other side. Something for every taste, they thought.
Every twenty minutes or so, one of the girls would get down from the cage and rest for a few numbers. Then another (four worked each night) would take her place. Between the hours of twelve and two in the morning, each girl got a half-hour break when she would either slip a coat on and walk outside for something to eat, or just go downstairs to the dressing room, take off her shoes, and rest her tired legs on the table where the make-up was kept. There was a long rack with hangers for their clothes, and long mirrors with small lights above and below them. On the walls were pictures and words telling of dates and who had played at the dub, and, of course, the sexual drawings and pleadings and boastings that are usually reserved for rest rooms and subways and billboards.
There was only one dressing room, used by the girls, the bands, the bartenders and Frankie. If the girls wanted to change their clothes, they used the ladies' room. Although,-on occasion, Noreen had been known to be feeling too tired or too lazy and had changed right there, ho matter who happened to be there at the time. "Well, boys, if you haven't seen it by now, you might as well cut yours off anyway, because it sure isn't doing you any good." The band or whoever was there laughed broadly and stared while she walked around in tight black bra and panties, looking for her stockings and garter belt, or applying her make-up slowly.
If Frankie walked in, he would grab her intimately, ducking the return swing of her hand, and the two would then laugh together, making a date to meet later.
Noreen said, "Frankie, you're a bastard," so often, it became almost her way of greeting him at the did).
He would always answer, "Noreen you're a bitch. That's why we get along so well together."
Frankie might come to their apartment any time of the night, after breaking two or three previous date with Noreen. Then she would either take him back into her room or refuse to open the door, sending him away apologetic or cursing. Neither one lived by any rules except their own feelings and moods.
At first, Laura was shocked by their behavior together and apart from one another. Frankie had made a pass at her that first time they met, while he drove her to the YWCA to get her backs, just after he had been with Noreen. But both Frankie and Noreen seemed to be so easygoing and attractive and happy-at least, at first-that Laura liked Noreen and forgave Frankie, finding herself continually amused by them and excited, in spite of herself, by Frankie's arrogant, cocksure charm.
Laura worked five nights a week from nine in the evening to four in the morning. After work, she and Noreen and the other girls went to have breakfast. Sometimes Frankie and the band would go with them. At times, the dancers from other clubs joined them, other girls who wanted to become actresses, boys who were dancers aiming for Broadway and other assorted "night people." Laura was meeting stranger people than she ever knew existed.
But the time she got back to the apartment to sleep, it would be about six or seven in the morning. After a while, except when she had a special audition to make, she stopped getting up in the daytime, and would roll out of bed, instead, at about five or six in the evening, after it had already gotten dark in New York. It wouldn't be long before she and Dan would write to each other less and less often and the day would come when they would stop writing altogether.
After two weeks, Laura became more at ease dancing in her cage and being stared at by all those hungry male eyes. AM of them, that is, except those penetrating (though not so hungry) deep blue eyes of Frankie's.
Now that she was sitting out a number, Frankie came over. It was a Tuesday night, a little slow, and Frankie could leave his position at the door whenever he liked.
"Hey, I like your hair this way," he said, leaning over, putting his hand on her bare back, so his fingers seemed to stray, almost by accident, to the whiteness of her slender neck. Her blond hair was tied in two long soft pigtails that night, making her look still younger and more innocent.
"Thank you," she said, pleased that he noticed the change and aware also that he never spoke to her, even to just spay "hi," without touching her. "It's easier to dance with my hair like this. When it's long, it gets in my way."
He nodded. "Well, don't go cutting it, though. A girl's hair should be long, so she can let it down at night." He paused for a minute and leaned down closer to make himself heard over the loud pounding music. "Wait a minute, tonight's Tuesday. Isn't this your night off and Noreen's on?"
Laura looked up for a moment but turned away immediately, coloring under the direct stare of his eyes. "Yes, but we decided to switch." And she added quickly, "Noreen wasn't feeling too well so I volunteered."
"You mean, she had something else going for her tonight. I'd rather have you here, anyway."
"Really?" she said much too quickly, surprising even herself by her sudden show of emotion. Does he really mean so much to me, she thought to herself. I hardly know him. And what about Dan. But Dan seemed so far away, so very far away.
On the stage the band changed their beat and started to play a slow song. During these, the girls left their cages and rested.
Frankie leaned even closer, so that Laura could feel his warm breath on her ear, could almost feel his words. "Come on out to the floor and dance with me."
"Are we allowed?"
"Sure. You just can't dance with the customers, that's all. But you can dance with me. That is, if you want to."
"Yes, I do," she said, getting up from the small table and walking ahead of him to the dance floor, knowing his eyes were watching her from behind.
There were about six couples out on the floor but none of the young men looked like Frankie and none of the girls were wearing a white two piece outfit with black mesh stockings. Laura felt more self-conscious now than she did white gyrating in the cage above.
"Relax," he said, "I can feel how tight you are. Relax, I'm not going to bite you. Not yet, anyway," he laughed.
At first, he held her tightly to him but when he felt her nervousness, he loosened his hold and Jed her around easily until she, by her own choice, came in as dose as she could to his body, until her body was molded to his, until she could feel his excitement and desire growing; and then again surprising herself, by pushing still harder with her hips, moving on him, while her fingers delicately stroked the back of his neck. And just as before, all the men in the club were staring at her but she was no 'longer aware of any men there except Frankie.
"Mmm, you do dance well," he said. "You could maybe even teach Noreen a thing or two."
She didn't answer, just kept moving against him until the music ended. When it did, she stepped quickly away, smiled, turned and walked back to the cage, ready for the next fast number and leaving Frankie standing there alone for a moment, watching her, missing her and wanting her.
Yeah, she's learning, alright. You can't stay around Noreen too long without some of it rubbing off. She sure is learning, he thought.
At the door, two couples walked in and Frankie strode purposely toward them, a smile already on his face, welcoming them to the dub. But his thoughts were still back on the dance floor with Laura moving against him.
Back in the cage, Laura moved and rolled her hips, oblivious of the men watching her. For a moment her conscience bothered her and she felt a pang of guilt about Dan but she decided to write to him that night when she got back and she felt better. She stopped thinking about him and concentrated on her dancing.
In the other cage, that night was another blond girl, Dale. Her looks, though, were closer to Noreen's than they were to Laura's. Her features were delicate but hard, and around her eyes the dark make-up was very heavy, the fake eye lashes very long. She was short but with a very full body. Her large breasts pushed against her too-tight halter and most of the steps she did were more like burlesque than go-go dancing. She did steps where she leaving her mouth open and simulating pain on her face. Or else she turned her back to the audience and did bumps and grinds. When men stared at her, she didn't get self-conscious the way Laura did, nor did she like it and try for more the way Noreen did. No, she stared back, her breasts thrust out, her real feeling present in her eyes which not so much showed as glowed with contempt.
Dale was not advertising her body for the benefit of the men there. No, she was showing what her body could do to the women who came-to women in general and to Laura in particular. Like Frankie, Dale could see that Laura was learning and like Frankie she figured it was just a question of time. All she had to do was wait for the right moment.
When Laura got home she was too tired to write to Dan. She decided to put it off until tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR
A month after Laura started working at the club, she was still living with Noreen. In fact, the arrangement, had, by now, become more or less permanent.
In a way, Laura looked up to Noreen. After all, she seemed to be having so much fun all the time and to be so sure of herself in all situations. There were always men around to take her out to all the best places in New York. She never slept at home two nights in a row. In fact, she was hardily ever home at all. The men were young or middle-aged, but always seemed to have lots of money, at least where Noreen was concerned.
All of them, that is, except Frankie. He never took her anywhere but to her room, slamming the door behind them. Those times, about twice a week, Laura would go out for a walk or go to a movie rather than hear their sounds through the thin walls of the apartment.
When she came back, an hour or two or three later, Frankie would be gone and Noreen would still be lying in bed, probably asleep. But this time they both were still there, Noreen in a red terry-cloth robe very carelessly buttoned, so that every-time she bent over, large areas of her large breasts would show and every time she moved her legs, the smooth whiteness of her thighs would flash through the opening of the bright red rough material.
Laura opened the door and, seeing the two of them still there, said, "Oh, excuse me. I'll come back later."
"No," Frankie called, stopping her. "It's O.K. come on in and close the door, will you?"
Laura still hesitated at the door. Something strange seemed to be happening.
"It's alright. We're through. This is your place too, you know," Noreen added.
She closed the door and sat down on an easy chair across from the couch where they were both seated. There was a very heavy smell of something burning in the room. It was like tobacco, only heavier and in a way sweeter.
Frankie turned to Noreen. "Is she hip?"
"No," she answered, "she's completely straight"
"What are you two talking about?" Laura asked, already knowing but not admitting it to herself.
Frankie opened his hand and produced a very narrow cigarette. "We're talking about this, grass. Did you ever turn on?"
"Grass? What's that?"
"What's what.. grass? Oh, you are too much! It's tea, boo, pot"
Laura still looked blank.
"Oh, wow," Noreen said. "It's marijuana. You did?-you smoke it and you get high."
"Blasted," said Frankie. "Wrecked and twisted and flying. You want some?"
"No, thanks," Laura said. "Not me." She thought he would get angry or say something ugly but he surprised her.
He shook his head. "It's up to you. Suit yourself. But this is very good stuff. And, like, it's less harmful than that liquor you drink in the club."
"It's not habit forming or . anything, Laura," Noreen said, looking at her through half closed eyes as if she were a little sleepy.
Frankie licked down the "joint" and lit it. He inhaled deeply, held his breath, took in some air, and dragged again on the "cigarette." When he handed it to Noreen, he still held his breath. She inhaled the same he did and gave the shorter but brightly glowing cigarette back to him. The air was becoming more heavy with the odor Laura had first smelled when she walked in.
Frankie took it and now breathed out with a whoosh of air and a tiny stream of smoke.
Noreen said, dribbling out smoke with each word, "I don't know how he does it. He's the world's champion when it comes to holding all that good smoke down." And she breathed out a thick steady, growing cloud of smoke as if to prove her point
"Why don't you try one drag just to see how it is," Frankie said offering the small glowing cigarette to Laura.
She stared at it and hesitated for a moment.
"Go on," he urged.
"Yeah, try it," Noreen said, leaning forward, causing Frankie's head to turn and his teeth to flash white in his wide grin of appreciation of her more than ample body.
Laura sat back, "No, thanks. I don't think I want any."
Frankie laughed, "Just means that much more for us. Still, you don't know what you're missing."
"Don't worry about me," Laura said. "I don't need any of that."
"Need?" Frankie said, "Need? Who the he! said anything about need? I don't need it either, baby. I like it. I surely do and that's a fact. I like it a whole lot. But I don't need it." And then he paused for a minute. "Just like Norey here. I don't need her. I just dig her."
Noreen looked up, her mood changed, "You'll know how much you need me when you lose me, you bastard."
"Need you? Lose you? Now dig this and, like, understand it. You're the one who needs. And you need me. And you're the one who's in danger of losing me. Not me, you. You got the order of things a little backwards. Get hip, baby. Like now." And he slid his hands into her robe and between her legs, causing not only Noreen, but also Laura, to gasp in shocked surprise.
But the next instant, it was Frankie's turn to be surprised. Noreen smiled and took the cigarette from Frankie's hand. She inhaled until it glowed bright red-yellow and then quickly brought it down, hot end first, on Frankie's hand.
He screamed, "Agh, you bitch!" But she was already up and gone-back to her room, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
He looked down at his hand and started to laugh. "Well, I'll be damned. I guess I really got to her that time." He looked over at Laura and saw her expression. "Don't look so scared. This happens all the time between us. Or at least something like it. Though, this was a little far out. I guess she dags me more than I thought."
"More?" Laura asked.
Frankie looked up, lit another special cigarette and said, "Sure, more. You've got a lot to learn about lots of things."
"And I suppose you're going to teach me," Laura said, sounding more sure of herself than she felt.
"I suppose I am," Frankie said, smiling.
CHAPTER FIVE
Besides Dale, there were other people Laura was earning to know at the club. Most of the waiters acted friendly toward her. They were all young men who were also trying to make it in show business. Most went: to acting schools and made the rounds of the agents and the open tryouts during the day.
Two of them, Bob and Dick, outside of acting, were only interested in each other. Both were young, in their early twenties, blond and boyish looking.
George, who had already appeared twice on T.V., was already trying to make dates with Laura and having little success. But he brought her drinks whenever she wanted and even sometimes when she didn't.
And Ball, tall and dark brown skinned, already married with a child to support, joked around with Laura often.
The only one who really gave her any trouble was Sal, the bouncer. He stood near the entrance to the dressing room, close enough to the bar and the tables to stop any small hassle before it developed into real trouble.
He was about six foot two and built very wide. Frankie used to say, behind his back, of course, that Sal's neck was as wide as an ordinary man's back. And he was close to being right. Sal had short, greasy black hair that curled over in front of high forehead. His eyes were narrow so that you could hardly see their pale blue color. In fact, you realy didn't look at his eyes, nor at his trong jaw, but at his nose which was broken and at the small soar on his right nostril. His nose had been split by his cellmate in prison just before Sal had sent him to the hospital.
Of all the people here, Laura thought to herself, why did I have to get in bad with him? Sal would come down to the dressing room sometimes to tell the dancers they were late and to get out there and earn their pay. Sometimes he would lean against the door and watch them getting ready. At the same time he might look down at has huge hands and see some dirt under his nails. He hated dirt on his hands and was always washing them. But when he saw dirt under his nails, he reached into his pocket and took out a long pocketknife. At a touch from his thumb, the long blade would spring open and he would proceed to clean his nails. Just looking at the long slender pointed blade made Laura feel uncomfortable and frightened.
Sal liked to frighten people, ail people, but especially Laura and Noreen. He never gave Dale any trouble. She wasn't any competition for him and they got along well. But Noreen, that whore, and now this new one, Laura, even more of a threat, both attracted Frankie's attention. And Sal didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. He wanted Frankie for himself. Wanting young men was a weakness or a habit that he picked up in jail while serving out a term for armed robbery.
He took no notice of Bob and Dick except to ridicule them for being such little ladies: "Hell, if I wanted a girl I'd go after a real one, not one of these sick imitations. I want a man, a young man."
Dick heard him, and brushing back his blond hair that almost fell in a bang over his forehead, said, "Well, then why don't you put on a skirt, Sally, and really camp instead of pretending in that Mafia drag."
"Someday, punk, you're gonna wake up with all your bones broken, every single one of them."
"Sounds delicious," Dick said, walking away with a tray of drinks, in his hand. Bob, his lover, tried to caution him against camping around with Sal: "He's capable of killing you if you catch him at the wrong time. Please be more careful."
Dick shook his head. "I know when to stop, don't worry. It just gives me a royal pain to see him standing there so tough when he's really just a big hairy, stupid lady."
"Who's soon going to be an all hairy auntie."
"Oh, yes, but Frankie better watch it. He's the one Sal really wants."
"Don't we all."
"What?"
"Now, now, you have to admit, a rot in the hay with him isn't such an unattractive thought-for any young lady."
"That would be adultery, dear."
"That would be fun, love."
"Well, maybe just once, just to try him out."
"Looks like we're both just tramps, love, without each other."
"Yes, without each other."
Frankie, of course, knew that Sal wanted him. He knew it and was glad. "Not that that prehistoric ape appeals to me," he thought. But he liked people to want him, all people. It was part of the food he needed to keep going. And besides, there were times, when he liked boys too, times when a woman wasn't handy or times when he wanted a change or times when he just wanted another young man, strong like himself, or times when he wanted the frantic ultrafeminine sex of a young swishing queen.
"He'll stick it anywhere," Dick said into Bob's ear, while the two passed by Frankie with trays of glasses held high.
"He is depraved, but so handsome."
"Honestly, Bob, sometimes you are disgusting."
"That's not what you said last night, dear."
"Bitch, throwing up my bed talk, Bitch!"
But that night, at home, in bed, they forgave each other, over and over again.
When Frankie came by the girls' apartment a few days later to take them to work, Laura was home alone.
"Oh, hi," she said, when she saw him at the door. "Come on in. Noreen's not here. She stepped out to buy a few things."
Frankie walked in and took off his coat. "I thought you did all the shopping."
"Well, I do most of it but.."
"And cleaning and cooking," he interrupted.
"Not all of it," she smiled, watching him half sit, half-lie on the sofa hi his usual sleepy way of sitting and talking. He was wearing a black tuxedo with formal shirt and tie as he often did for the club on weekends, and she couldn't help thinking how good he looked, how very good he always looked.
Sometimes she felt he could almost read her mind.
"Why don't you sit here next to me?" he asked, smiling. "I'm comfortable here."
"Scared?"
"A little."
He laughed. "You know I really like you, Laura. I really do."
They heard the key turn in the latch and Noreen walked in with two brown paper bags in her arms. She saw Frankie on the couch. "Oh, it's you. How's your hand?"
"Come on and I'll show you," he said, walking up to her and kissing her hard and long while she still held the packages. He broke from her and looked at his watch. "Come on, we still have some time."
"Do we have enough?" she asked.
He nodded. "And if not, we'll get there late."
"O.K." she laughed, "just give me a minute to straighten up the room."
When she was gone, Frankie started taking off his jacket, folding it neatly over a chair. He looked at Laura, "Want to come too? It's a big bed, there's always room for one more."
Laura opened her mouth in surprise.
Frankie saw from her expression that the thought was an impossible one for her.
"O.K., O.K.," he laughed, "I was just joking anyway."
She laughed back, but she knew deep down inside that he wasn't joking. He wasn't joking at all. "No, I'll leave now and meet you two after, I mean," she hesitated, getting a little flustered and blushing, "later at the club."
"Suit yourself," Frankie said, smiling.
"Is that one of your rules?"
"What?"
"What you just said?"
"Suit yourself? Yeah, I guess so. It's not a bad one, really. You ought to try it yourself some time. After all, who would it hurt if you did suit yourself?"
"I don't know."
"That's your answer. Nobody."
But she thought, maybe me, maybe me.
Frankie smiled at her silence. "Wei, see you later." He went into the bedroom.
Noreen was waiting for him, lying on the bed, over the covers, wearing only a red bra and red panties, her long black hair fating to her shoulders. "Do you like what you see?" she asked.
He nodded and then not stopping to remove his clothes leaped on the bed and on her. "I sure do, you hot looking bitch." He thrust one hand between her legs, feeling the moist heat and the other on her breasts, his hand over the stiff red material of the tight bra, while he raked his teeth across her flat stomach.
"Oh, Frankie, that's so good."
He licked now where a moment before he's used his teeth, his tongue traveling up her body toward her breasts still encased in the red material, while he stroked the warm skin on the inside of her thighs, up toward the growing heat between her legs and then back around to her hips and further back and around, touching, feeling, with just the sensitive tips of his fingers.
"Take off your bra," he commanded, while he started to slide her panties over her hips and down her legs, past her knees, to her ankles. "Lift," he said and then slid them over and threw them aside. Now she lay beneath him naked.
Quickly he started removing his shirt. "Help me," he said, bringing her hand to his still zippered fly. "Help me."
She opened his belt, unhooked his pants and pulled the zipper down slowly, her hands going inside, searching down his thigh, finding him, pressing and rubbing.
He made a motion to break away to remove his pants. "No," she said, still holding him, "I can't wait." She held him tighter and led him into her, as far as he could go moving on him immediately, now putting both her arms around him, her fingers on the back of his neck and probing the inside of his ear. Her movements became faster, more intense, and she closed her legs tightly around him, tighter, tighter, until her body shuddered again and again as she felt his hot flow inside her.
A moment later, he grunted out his passion. She held him more tightly inside her with her legs pressing tightly together.
"Frankie," she said, looking up into his eyes, their faces so close, almost touching. "Frankie, don't call me a bitch again. Not in bed, before-please, Frankie."
He looked down at her. Her face was very serious, almost sad. Her eyes were wide and smeared with mascarea. The hardness was gone for a moment and she looked like the child she must have been once, long ago.
"Sure," he said and smiled.
She released him. He got up and looked down at the creased tuxedo pants he was wearing and his mood abruptly changed.
"Damnit, look what you did to my pants because you couldn't wait, you dumb-ass bitch."
Noreen looked at him.
"Bitch," he screamed again.
Instead of getting angry and cursing him as he thought she would, she turned over and started to cry.
He looked at her. Well, if I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it, he thought. The bitch is crying, how do you like that? And from somewhere down deep inside him, a tiny voice seemed to answer, I do like it I like it just fine.
He thought of going over to try to comfort her but decided against it. Instead he got dressed without a word and left.
And while Noreen's tears wet her pillow and smeared her dark eyes still more, it occurred to her that after she had opened up with him for the first time, after she had shown him in her face how much she felt for him by asking of him that one simple request-after all that, the last word he'd said, the one he'd left her with before he left was: Bitch.
CHAPTER SIX
Since Laura had left home, she had been writing to Dan and to her aunt. She'd written to Dan the day before she'd moved in with Noreen and she had not left a forwarding address at the YWCA. So Dan's answering letter had been returned to him unopened and unread.
She wrote him again, though, a few weeks later, telling him about her new job and her new life in New York. She did not want him to worry at all about her, he had plenty of his own problems. So she tried to sound as happy and optimistic as possible, making everything sound better than it really was. Unfortunately, she succeeded too well.
Dan finished reading the letter with the feeling that she was doing so well that she was not missing him at all, that she was losing her feeling for him and leaving everything that meant "small town" behind her. And that included him.
To a much smaller degree, she felt this way also. Both were wrong. There had been so many adjustments to make in living and working in New York, that Laura was almost overwhelmed by all the changes. It was all so new and strange to her. Not only the new job and the apartment and taking care of herself and being all alone, but also the new people she was meeting. The nightclub people of Greenwich Village would have been just as strange and incomprehensible to native New Yorkers who worked during the day and went home to their families at night and who were in their own way as "small town" as Laura was.
She had landed in with this group and was trying to find her place with them. And then too, she was attracted to Frankie. In a way she had been too caught up with everything to think very much about Dan. She just kept the secure thought in the back of her mind that in two years he would be out and they would be together. And that was enough to keep her from thinking more deeply about the subject of their relationship.
Dan was no longer so sure. And his return letter to her was short and expressed no warmth or feeling. Actually he was a little afraid to show how much he cared in that letter and then receive one from her that would be a "Dear John" letter, short and to the point. So his letter was cool. And When Laura got it, she felt Ms lack of warmth and began to feel that he might be losing his feeling for her.
What started as a small misunderstanding between the two was fed by their fear of rejection after expressing their love. They were both afraid to be too open and so let themselves be too hurt, if everything should fall in and end. And their fear was causing just what they were afraid of; they were growing apart from each other.
Future exchanges of letters did not help but only widened the distance between them, until they both began to feel a growing doubt about their relationship and neither wrote as often as he or she should or really wanted.
Still things might have improved because both still cared if not for Laura's aunt who came to New York one night unannounced and unexpected.
Laura heard a knock at the door and thought it was Frankie. When she opened the door, her smile froze on her face and she saw just how wrong she had been.
"Hello Laura, how are you?"
"Hi. Well, I'm just fine. Come in, come in. I'm just so surprised to see you. Why didn't you tell me, write me? I might not have been home or something."
"I just wanted to surprise you, is all."
Noreen walked out in her red bathrobe. "Is that 'bastard, Frankie, here?" she said, before realizing it was not Frankie at all. "Oh, excuse me, I thought.."
"Oh, this is my aunt, Noreen," and turning back to her aunt, "and this is my roommate."
"Hi," Noreen said.
"Hi," the greeting came like ice from Laura's aunt.
From there on, things grew progressively worse. Laura might have found it funny is she did not want to get along, at least a little bit, with her aunt and uncle. They aren't much, she thought, but they're the only family I have.
A few minutes later, Frankie knocked at the door. And before Laura could open it, he called out, "Get your clothes off, Norey, it's me, Frankie."
When Laura opened the door, Frankie continued, "And you too. Let's all jump into that bed and roll..," and then he saw Laura's aunt.
"Well, hi," he said, when Laura made the attempt to introduce them. He even held out his hand. But Laura's very respectable aunt looked at him and at his outstretched hand and turned her back.
Frankie looked down, put his hand back at his side and looking up, said, "Look, you old scruff, I don't care who the hell's aunt you are. Don't turn your old, tooney back on me."
"Frankie," Laura called in exasperation while Noreen just sat back and laughed in appreciation at the scene.
Frankie sat down on the couch in silence.
But the night was just beginning.
That night things were as usual at the club. The men were there at the bar staring as usual. The couples sat at the tables, those in the dark corners of the club kissing and touching, hands exploring underneath the tables as usual. While Bob and Dick flew around the club, calling out to each other and to a group of four men sitting at a table who also had no interest in girls. At the door Frankie stood to welcome new people. And in the cages the girls danced to the frantic sounds that the band kept up on the slightly raised stage. Sal was in his usual place, watching.
In fact, everything was just "as usual." Almost everything, anyway. The only difference was that at one of the tables with a straight gingerale in front of her, sat Laura's aunt-A prim old lady with rimless spectacles, her hands folded, sitting at a small round table in the darkened club, listening to the frantic sounds of the music and watching Laura, her little niece, in a two piece outfit, show-wing her whole body to all these, these.., and shaking her, her.. Why it's all.. disgusting! Disgusting!
She left before the night was over. She left without saying a word to Laura. She went back to her hotel, packed her one bag and took a bus back home that morning.
That same day that she got home, after a short nap, she went to see Dan's mother. She couldn't wait another minute to spread the news about her shame, about the tramp her nice had become after everything she had done for the little slut.
Dan's mother sympathized with her. It wasn't her fault. Some girls were just born bad. Wasn't that a fact? Sometimes, just like good traits, it was inherited.
Yes, the old woman agreed. Just like her mother, my sister, may her poor soul rest in peace.
The two old women talked long and comforted each other. They understood each other.
The first thing Dan's mother did was to write to her son that Laura had become engaged to someone else in New York. And that he should stop writing her because she didn't want to hear from him.
The next thing she did was to write a letter to Laura, saying that Dan didn't want her to write to him anymore, not after her heard what she'd become.
When Laura read the letter sent to her, her first impulse was to write Dan and explain. But this passed. She thought about the coldness of his letters. He probably didn't care for her anymore, anyway, and was probably glad for the excuse to stop writing. And if he did care, how could he believe such nonsense? It was his turn to write. Why hadn't he answered her last letter? How could he take someone else's word, especially his mother's, about her actions? And how could he believe such bad things about her if he stall' loved her? So she didn't write to him again.
Dan would not have believed bad stories about her and he did still care for her, but when he heard about her supposed "engagement" and added that to the coldness of Laura's last letter, he, unfortunately, believed it was true. He didn't answer her letter but waited instead for another one from her. After all he was in the army and if he didn't write maybe she would think it was because something terrible happened to him. And if she didn't worry, it was all over anyhow. So he didn't write to Laura again.
Dan's mother had the feeling of a job well done. She had succeeded in keeping that little tramp away from her innocent son who was too young to be serious about any girl yet, anyway.
And Laura's aunt felt she had done her duty as a good, God-fearing, righteous woman.
Laura and Dan waited for each other's letters, but the letters never were written, never were sent, and never arrived.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dale and Frankie tooth watched Laura night after night and both felt their time was growing near.
"It's not a bad crowd for a Wednesday night," Dale said, sitting down at the small round table next to Laura. They were the only two people at the table and Dale sat much closer than she had to, so that her knees were touching Laura's.
Laura took a sip from her drink and looked around with very little interest. "Yeah, I guess so," she said. "I really didn't notice before."
Dale looked at her. "To tell you the truth, I've been meaning to talk to you about that"
"About what?"
"About the fact that you never really notice who's here and who's not At least .not for the past few weeks, ever since that aunt of yours came in that night and just sat there staring. Is anything wrong? I mean, does it matter what that old 'whatever she is' thinks?"
Laura took another sort sip from her drink. "No, it isn't her. It's just.. a few other things."
"Do you want to talk about them? I'm not trying to pray. Just (that if you feel like talking and want someone to listen, well, you should know that I'm available," Dale said, sitting stall closer, increasing the pressure of her 'knees.
"No, it's not really so very important," Laura answered. "Just something about an old friend, rather my old boyfriend."
"Over?" Dale asked.
"Looks that way."
"Well," Dale said, "don't worry about it. There'll be others who will care for you more. It probably all happened for the best."
"Maybe," Laura said, sighing as the word came out.
"Sure. I'm convinced of it," Dale said, putting her hand on Laura's shoulder. "It's all for the best."
Laura nodded, a little uncomfortable with Dale so close, crowding her with her closeness.
"It's all for the best," Dale repeated, moving her hand on Laura's shoulder.
Almost, Laura thought, she touches me almost the way a man might-Dale seemed to 'be having trouble controlling her breathing and her voice, as if she were becoming excited, sexually excited. "Well, the band's playing another fast one. Guess we better go up and earn our money," Laura said, a little self conscious and uncomfortable to be the object of a woman's desire. Dale looked to the stage as if she had forgot there was a band there or that they were at the club.
"Yeah, I guess so," she smiled, giving Laura's shoulder a little squeeze, she let her hand fall off and almost as if by accident it lightly grazed the soft flesh of Laura's thigh.
Laura took another sip of her drink and went to her cage to dance. On the other side of the stage, Dale thought to herself that lately Laura had been drinking more, not very much, but more just the same. When she'd started she would nurse one drink the whole night and when they went home, half of her drink would still be left. While the other girls came off the stage tired and thirsty and wanting liquor, Laura just drank plain soda.
And there were always drinks avalable too. She didn't even have to buy them. Frankie or even Sal often ordered a round of drinks for the girls when they'd 'been working hard for a time. But when the waiter would come around for their orders, Laura, unlike the other girls, would order plain soda with maybe a few cherries in it. That was when she'd started.
But now she had a couple each night, at least two and often three. And these were not ordinary drinks. Whenever drinks were being served to the staff, the waiters and the bartenders made them doubly strong.
Noreen came in that night, late as usual, and awhile later, Laura took her break. She picked up her drink and walked down the stairs to the dressing room. There was nobody else there and she just sat down, stretched her legs and closed her eyes. Upstairs, through the closed door, she could hear the muffled sounds of the band playing the same songs.
Each band had about fifteen songs they could do and every night the staff heard the same songs repeated. First every other set and then every night, and then every week. It got so that Laura, like everyone else, was bored with most of the songs, maybe liked one or two, and actually hated the rest.
Besides this, the dancing in the cages was becoming hard work to Laura. It was all becoming monotonous. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
The music from up above suddenly got louder as the door opened and quickly became muffled again as it closed. She heard footsteps clicking swiftly down the steps and, without turning, saw in the mirror in front of her that it was Frankie.
"Hiya," he said. "I thought I saw you come down here before. You look dragged. Is everthing O.K.?"
"Yeah," Laura nodded. "Just fine."
"You sure"
"Yeah," she said, a little surprised at his show of concern.
They had been talking to each other by watching their reflections in the long mirror. Now suddenly their eyes locked and each stared long and hard. Frankie turned and so did Laura and now they were looking directly at each other without the protective distance that the mirror afforded.
The smoke from Laura's cigarette streamed endlessly upward. Frankie moved a step toward her and removed the cigarette from her hand. He dragged on it and then instead of giving it back, exhaled and put the cigarette in an ashtray.
Laura made a motion to reach for the cigarette, but Frankie grabbed her hand and stopped her.
"What..?" she said and then stopped.
He stooped over and kissed her, first softly and then hard, his tongue pushing open her lips and darting and searching and touching inside.
For a moment, she pushed him back and said, "No, wait. Don't, please. No."
But he placed his hand on her neck and without saying a word forced her to kiss him again.
"No, no."
But he kept on, making her struggling useless. She .stopped struggling and for a moment, everything changed and now her tongue entered his mouth and she stood up and pressed her body to his and felt his excitement. Just for a moment and then she broke away, breathing hard. "No. I don't even know why I.."
Still he didn't say a word, but kissed her again. And now there was no doubt about her kissing back. She pressed against him and murmured, "Oh, Frankie."
He moved his hand down and pushed her hips into his and they began to move on each other.
From up above the music became loud again for an instant and soft steps came down the stairs, suddenly stopping. "Oh, I didn't know you were down here too, Frankie?"
Frankie and Laura stepped apart.
"Well, now you know," he said. "But I guess I better get back up there now anyway." And he squeezed past Dale on the stairs, touching her.
"Back off, you animal," she hissed at him.
He smiled. "See you later, Laura," he called and his eyes locked with Dale's; looked with both feeling competition and both feeling a mutual hatred.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Although Frankie asked her, Laura didn't let him take her home that night, nor the night after. It was not until a week later, at the club, on No-reen's night off and one in which she would almost be sure not to sleep at home, that Frankie asked Laura again if he could take her home. And she, unaware that he had been waiting for Noreen's night off and thinking that the past few days he had been angry at her because she had said no the week before, consented. She. feared he might ve even worse than angry, he might be indifferent.
"O.K. good, so we have a date for later," Frankie said, walking back to his post at the door.
Dale was sitting with Laura and she had heard the short conversation. "If you'll take my advice," she said, "you'll change, your mind about this and stay away from that bastard. You don't know how far out he is."
Laura looked at her. "You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. And besides," she added in a less annoyed tone, "we're just going to have something to eat tonight after work. It really isn't very important. It certainly doesn't amount to much."
"With him, anything, no matter how small, can amount to something, no matter how big. Remember that, will you? Please?"
Laura smiled, "O.K., I'll rember that."
"Be careful."
"I will. Don't worry."
While from his position by the bar, Sal, the bouncer, watched as he always did for trouble. Only tonight he watched, that blonde one, who seemed to be the new object of Frankie's interest. Sal watched and under his breath cursed Laura.
"What was that you just said?" Dick said, walking by Sal to order two stingers, a Rob Roy and a Bloody Mary.
"Nothing, punk," Sal said angrily. "Keep your nose out of my business."
Die walked by again, a full tray in his hand and deliberately made his voice sound more effeminate.
"Oh, sorry, Sally, I thought you were talking to me, trying to impair my morals, you know."
Before Sal could answer, Dick was out among the tables dropping off his drinks.
Bob had seen Sal's face as Dick walked by and quickly ran over to Dick. "Listen, I don't know what you said to him, baby, but cool it a little, because I think you might be pushing him too far."
"That old lady in drag? Are you kidding?"
"No, now be serious. He's dangerous."
"She," Dick corrected him.
"O.K. she. She's dangerous. She really is. Especially now that Frankie is panting after that tramp, Laura."
"I guess you're right. I'm not so sure she's a tramp, though."
"They all are, baby. Just listen to Mama. They all are."
During Laura's break, Frankie came down again to see her. And again they were alone. And again he kissed her.
"Frankie," she asked, "what do you think of me? I mean really."
He smiled. "What do I think of you? I like you. I like you very much." And he moved in to kiss her again.
She stepped back. "'But what about Noreen? What do you think of her?"
He smiled again. "I like her, too."
"But. ."
"No buts," he cut her off. "And no more questions. Just take things as they come. It's the only way."
After work they went out to eat and then Frankie took her home. They rode up in the elevator in silence. Frankie smiled while Laura stared at the winking numbers over the elevator door, feeling uncomfortable, and glad for the excuse to keep her face averted from Frankie's.
When the elavator stopped, they got out and walked to her door.
"Well, thank you," she said, "for.."
"Open the door," he said, "The evening isn't over yet."
"Well," she hesitated, "actually I'm pretty tired."
"So am I. So invite me in for some coffee."
"Well, alright."
Inside they took off their coats and Frankie sat on the couch waiting for Laura to come in. After the coffee, he smiled at her, moved close, closer, and kissed her. He put his weight on her, forcing her to lean back on the sofa, until the top half of his body was pressed against the top half of hers.
He kissed her lips and her face and then her neck while he slid his hand over her body and onto her breasts. He squeezed lightly and then harder. She was wearing a black sweater and short red skirt. He pulled the sweater out from her skirt and slid his hands inside, touching the warm skin of her stomach. He moved higher and onto her breasts, now held in only by her white bra.
All this time she lay kissing him back, running her hands along his back and over his chest.
But now when he raised her slightly and began to unhook the three small clips on the back of her bra, she stopped and said, "No, no more, Frankie. Not yet. No more."
He kept on as if he hadn't heard. He unclipped the bra quickly and easily as if he could not be more used to the necessary maneuverings and slid his hand over her breasts until he began to feel her nipples with his thumb.
"No," she said. "Stop it, please."
Again he acted as if she had not said anything and kept on.
She tried to push him away.
He held her back so easily, she was surprised at his strength.
No with one hand he raised her sweater, pushing it higher and higher.
"No, stop," she repeated.
He pushed it higher until her breasts were exposed.
"Mmmh," he said in appreciation at their round full shape and lowering his head, he opened his mouth and began to lick and suck gently.
Laura murmured deep in her throat her appreciation and he let go his hold on her.
And then she took his head, raised it and with one hand, slapped him. Not hard, but enough to show that she didn't want to play any more.
His expression changed to anger and he balled his hand into a fist and brought his arm back and stared at her as if he were going to hit her back.
She didn't say a word but stared back at him, a look of fear on her face.
Suddenly his expression changed. He flashed his wide grin and dropped his arm. He got up and started arranging his clothes. He tucked in his shirt. "Well, I guess you really did want me to stop. Can't always tell, you know"
"You didn't think I meant it?" she asked.
"No."
"Why else.."
"To be coy, to put the blame on me. Because you dig this scene. Because you wanted me to bang you around some before. There's lot's of scenes that could be yours."
"No, I'm not like that. I don't like any of that."
"Yeah, so I figured. Anyway," he laughed, "you're young yet. Some of those scenes come later."
"Not to me. Not ever."
He nodded. "Who knows? Look, I'm going." He put his coat on and walked toward the door. "Frankie, you're not angry, are you?" He didn't answer.
"Don't go, please. It's just going too fast for me."
He still didn't answer, just stood there.
She walked over and put his hand back under her sweater and on her naked breast. "Say you're not angry, Frankie, please."
He looked down at her and keeping his eyes on hers, he bent down and raised her skirt and placed his hand between her legs and held her intimately for a moment, until she sighed and leaned against him. He removed his hand kissed her. He kissed her softly, almost tenderly.
"No, I'm not angry," he said. "Good night and sleep well."
"Oh, good night. And you sleep well too."
When the door closed behind, he walked to the elevator, smiling to himself. Next week I'll get that bitch, he thought, and then I'll show her some scenes she won't ever forget.
Inside, Laura slept very well that night. Some of her lonesomness had disappeared. She slept very well.
CHAPTER NINE
Dan walked the streets he had known since his boyhood. He was seen and greeted by people who had known him for years. He passed the candystore on Fourth Street and Fat Louie grunted "Hi," the word coming out mangled from a mouth filled with a wide cigar. Dan had worked behind the counter years before, scooping ice cream, making malteds and sodas, sweeping up, washing glasses, and putting the papers together. And old Louie still with his cigar, stall too cheap to buy a cash-register, still fat as a bear, remembered Dan and liked him.
"Come on in," Louie called. "I'M make you a soda with ice cream."
Dan smiled but hesitated.
"With chocolate ice cream. Come on in. It's on the house."
Dan shurgged his shoulders and smiled. He really didn't feel like having it but he no longer could refuse without insulting his Old boss. And he had always liked the old guy.
Still it was hard to force the ice cream down. It's hard to eat a rich ice cream soda when you're depressed, he thought, and half smiled at himself for the way it sounded; almost like a proverb.
He had come back home on his last leave before shipping out for Asia. I won't be seeing this town or these people for a long time, he thought. Not for a whole year. Maybe not ever. And yet this was not the reason for his depression. He really didn't like this town or his home very much. It wasn't hard to leave them. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of lonliness that seemed to plague him where he went, whatever he did. And he knew when it had started and consequently the reason for it. "Oh Laura," he muttered to himself, "why couldn't you wait?"
"What was that?" Louie asked, taking the cigar out of his mouth to get rid of the growing line of graw ash that was forming.
Dan looked up. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking to myself." He finished the rest of the ice cream. "Well, thanks, Lou. I guess I'll be going now.
Take it easy."
Louie nodded. "Same to you. You take good care of yourself. I heard about where you're going. You take real good care of yourself."
"Thanks, I will."
Outside the sun was shining. He walked back to Ms home and saw his old car parked in the garage. He got in. Just enough gas to make it to Hank's station, he thought.
Hank was just like Louie. He remembered and liked Dan and he wouldn't hear of Dan paying for the gas. "Now, you take it easy, you hear?" he called as Dan puled away and rode down the driveway and back into the street-He drove at first aimlessly, just up and down all the streets he used to know, to play in, to his old school and then his driving took on a specific purpose. He headed out to the old dirt road where he and Laura had spent their last night together.
It was deserted as usual. He puled into the same place he had parked months before, got out and started walking. He stopped at the spot where they had lain out the blanket and remember the scene as dearly as if it had happened the day before. He saw again Laura's body white in the moonlght and heard again her words. He couldn't believe it was over, that it meant so much more to him than it did to her. He looked over the whole area again and then abruptly turned and drove back home.
"Don't worry," his mother said, trying to cheer him up. "You'll be back home pretty soon. It might not be so bad."
"What won't?" he said, looking .up from his plate. Sometimes it was hard to listen.
"What? Why going off to wherever it is you're going, of course," she answered.
"Probably not. That doesn't bother me all that much. I guess I'll make it through. OJC."
"That isn't it?" she asked incredulously. "Then what is?"
He didn't answer.
Her expression changed. "Not that little tramp? Is she still on your mind? Still?"
"Don't call her names. It isn't necessary any more. So stop it."
His mother stared at him, a little taken back by his words and his tone. Well, he'll get over it, she thought. When he comes home, he won't even remember her name. I'll all be over by then. And good riddance.
But she was wrong.
CHAPTER TEN
"You better hurry up, Norey," Laura said, "or we're going to be late. It's almost time."
Noreen stopped applying her eye make-up for a moment and turned. "Don't worry about it. If we're late, we're late. It doesn't matter."
Laura looked at the clock on the dresser. Damn, they were already late. What is she doing now? "You almost ready?" Laura called.
"Almost," Noreen said, walking back into the room fully dressed and as far as Laura could tell, completely ready. Laura started to put on her coat.
"if you want to go ahead of me, it's alright. But I'm not ready yet," Noreen said.
"I don't understand. What else do you have to do? You look ready to me;"
"Yeah, I look ready," Noreen answered, smiling, "But I don't feel ready. Not yet, anyway." She walked out of the room and to her closet. A few minutes later Laura heard the door close and Noreen walked back into the room, holding the same kind of slender cigarette she and Frankie had been smoking that night they offered Laura some pot.
"Want some?" Noreen asked.
"No thanks." She paused for a moment. "How come you're doing this now?"
Noreen exhaled. "Because it makes dancing much better and the club isn't so much of a drag and a hassle. Go on, take one drag, It's about time." And she offered the joint to Laura.
Laura looked at it for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders and took it. She brought it up to her mouth and inhaled the way she would a cigarette, expelling all the smoke a moment later.
"No, that's not the way," Noreen said. "You've got to hold the smoke down as long as possible. Swallow after you inhale and don't breathe out until you have to."
Laura tried it again. She felt her throat get hot and then a tickle deep down, forcing her to cough.
Noreen laughed. "You took in too much." And after inhaling herself, passed it back to Laura.
"Here."
Laura tried again but coughed some more.
Noreen took it back and inhaled a few times. It was getting much smaller and harder to hold. "Here."
Laura shook her head. She was still coughing slightly. "No, I can't anymore. I'm coughing too much."
Noreen shrugged. "It's up to you, but you probably didn't take enough to feel anything. Like you won't feel anything at all." She inhaled again. "Here, take one more drag. It's much stronger when it's small. Maybe you'll get a small head. I already have one."
"Head?"
"A buzz, a lightness inside. Here, take another."
Laura took it from Noreen's hand. It was so small and hot, she almost couldn't hold it.
"Take a small drag," Noreen said.
Laura did and managed to hold it down without coughing.
"Come on, come on, pass it back," Noreen said impatiently.
But it was too hot for Laura to hold, it was almost a glowing ember. She could hardly see the white paper, just feel the heat on her fingers. When Noreen reached for it, Laura dropped it.
"Oh, damn it," Noreen said, bending down and picking it up. She managed to drag on it once more before it became too hot for her also and she dropped it into an ash tray. She smiled. "When it gets down to here, Frankie usually drags a few more times."
"How does he manage that?" Laura asked. "He's used to it by now. His fingers are covered with brown callouses. He doesn't even feel the heat.
But anyway, after that, he eats it."
"He eats what?"
"The roach, what's left of the joint. He just pops it in his mouth like it was candy and swallows it."
"Why?"
"Let me put it like this. He always uses everything until it's completely out, until it can't be of anymore possible use to him."
Laura didn't answer.
Noreen went on. "Do you understand what I mean?"
"No," Laura said, blushing.
"I guess you do. I mean you. And, believe it or not. I'm telling you for your own sake. He's out of your league, kid, and this is not jealousy talking. He's too far out for you."
"I don't understand," Laura said trying to cover up. "What does this "have to do with me?"
Noreen stared at her for a minute. "O.K., play it your own way. I did my part to tell you what's what. Now, you're on your own. But be careful."
Laura nodded.
Noreen got up and abruptly her mood changed. "Oh, I feel good. How about you? Feel anything different?"
Laura got up and smiled. "I don't know for sure. I feel kind of nice and a little, I don't know, a little, kind of light. I feel kind of graceful. But just a little feeling," she said, smiling and walking around.
"Well, it's too bad you didn't take more, but you got a pretty good reaction. Anyway, I'm sure you'll take more some time. I'm sure Frankie will see to that."
But Laura didn't hear her. She just walked around feeling good. It wasn't a very strong feeling, not like Noreen's high. It was more like just being in a very good mood. Like one of those days when you wake up completely rested, not feeling tired at all, and just knowing today is going to be your day. Everything is going to go right. The same feeling a gambler feels at the beginning of a winning streak, when the dice or the cards or the ponies or the numbers are so good to you, they're like personal friends.
But sometimes you're wrong about these feelings and what started out looking so good ends by looking so bad. So bad that you wonder how you could have been so fooled.
Still Laura was feeling good.
And the night was really just beginning.
"Let's go to the club," Noreen said, putting on her coat.
"I'm ready," Laura said and followed her down to the street.
Dan was not actually going to do any fighting. At least, not against any foreign people. He was going to an island in Southeast Asia that was a rest and recreation center for servicemen on leave from the war.
In basic training Dan had been the top man in his company in just about every exercise and assignment. In high school he had played football and had kept in shape after graduation. He also scored high in the Army intelligence tests.
First he was made a platoon leader and then he was given special courses in language and judo. He knew he was being trained for something special but he didn't know exactly what until just before he was shipping out. He was going to be and M. P., which under the circumstances made him consider himself a very kicky young man.
When he first got to the island, he was a little surprised and almost a little shocked. It was not so much an sland, he soon became aware, as much as it was a floating whore-house. The girls stood along the streets or mingled in the bars and clubs. There are so many of them, he thought. Some were pretty and all of them were young. In fact, many started learning their business at such hardened ages as thirteen. When they were this young, they often had need of a pimp, who very often turned out to be the girl's brother. Many of the whores even went so far as to ride bicycles from meeting to meeting, man to man."
With such competition and so many eager buyers, the hustling was a constant and open thing. Girls on the street would hold themselves suggestively, pout their mouths, and offer themselves to every single man who passed. "Hey soldier, you want to come with me? I very good." And the parted lips would open wider, the tongue would flash invitingly.
"Honey, come with me."
"Baby, I be good to you."
And the men would go, to forget the war and to forget themselves and where they were. And to forget that soon, too soon, they would have to be going back.
Dan soon saw that his job consisted mainly of stopping brawls between the men. Sometimes they fought over a woman, a whore, sometimes over a casual remark or an accidental shove. Sometimes they fourth for no reason at all or just because they were drunk and afraid. Some men go to whores, others to drink, and others to fighting, Dan thought. When all of them are just trying for one thing to forget.
Still he didn't have it so bad. It certainly could be a lot worse, he said to himself at least once every day.
He was allowed to find quarters for himself and he rented a small house on a hill overlooking the town. Yes, it could be worse. Soon afterward, he bought himself a woman. Not just a whore but one who was smarter and prettier. One who could talk English well enough to hold a simple conversation. One who did not go with many men but just with one. At least, only one at a time. She lived in, slept in, cooked, cleaned, talked, everything. She was his mistress and he took care of her. And together they too were able, often, to forget.
Dan also had kind of houseboy friend who lived with him at the house. For just as the girls were forced to hustle so were the boys. Some hustled with their bodies, others through currency exchange, drugs, stolen goods, anything. As long as their connections in the black market kept them supplied and as long as they kept wheeling and dealing, they were able to survive. The smarter ones made it, the others were left behind.
Dan's houseboy was one of the smarter ones, hi fact, it was he who picked up Dan, not the other way around. And it was he-Jimmy was his Americanized name-who introduced Dan to his mistress, Tamika, or as he called her, Tammy.
Jimmy knew everything about the island. He knew every girl and where she hustled, every thief, everyone involved in the black market. But to a large degree he was through with all that frantic hustling. It was more comfortable living up here in this house with the American M.P. and Tamika. It was more comfortable and safer and much less of a hassle. Besides, he kind of liked the American. They often had long conversations either in English or in Jimmy's native tongue about everything from American baseball to women to each other's past to the war.
Yes, it could have been worse for all three.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tonight was the night. There was no doubt about it. Frankie could feel it in his hands as he made his tie just perfect. He could see it in his eyes, could almost taste it as he popped a little pink capsule into his mouth. Nothing like a little amphetamine to make the whole world look good, to make that nothing club really swing. Still, tonight it was going to happen. He smiled in the mirror at himself as he combed his hair once again. Yes, tonight, after all this time and all those hassles, he was finally going to make it with Laura.
It was Noreen's night off. Frankie had been drawing Laura closer to him ever since that night at her apartment, drawing her closer and closer until he knew just in the way she danced with him, just in the way she looked at him, just in the way she surrendered herself completely when she kissed him that she was his anytime he wanted her. And tonight, he smiled at his reflection in the mirror, tonight, Laura, I want you.
He walked into the club smiling his hellos to everybody, the bartender, the waiters, Sal, the band, everyone.
"What're you so happy about?" Sal asked in his usual surly mood.
Frankie flashed back his grin. "What's there to be unhappy about? It's gonna be a swinging night."
"Don't swing it too much," Dick said, overhearing Frankie's remarks, "or it's liable to swing off. And then where would you be, doll?"
"Right where you are now, Dickie," Frankie answered.
"Oh, he's alright," Bob said, smiling at Dick. "You ought to know," Frankie answered. "And I do. I know him better than his own mother."
"Doll," Frankie said just before he disappeared behind the door leading to the dressing room, "you are his mother."
"Better his than yours," Bob called out after him, but Frankie was already gone.
"You two sisters are unbelievable," Sal said with contempt in fads voice.
"Why, Sally, don't you approve? After all we're all sisters under our clothes, aren't we?" said Dick.
Sal's whole expression changed. He reached into his pocket, the one where he kept his switch blade knife, and walked over to Dick. He thrust his jaw into the other's face and said, spitting out the words, "If you don't watch your mouth, punk, I'm gonna carve you a new one."
Dick turned white. He knew Sal was capable of doing just that and he knew that Sal was serious now.
Sal turned to Bob. "And that goes for you too. Call me that name again and I cut out your tongue."
He walked back to his post, his hand still in his pocket. Dick and Bob, no longer smiling, looked at each other in sympathy, understanding and mutual fear.
"I think, Bob, we'd better cool it as far as Sally is concerned."
"I think your right, love. Let's leave the ape to pant after Frankie in his own way. He seems to be flipping out."
"Probably from so much playing with himself over Frankie."
"Can't tell, really. Who knows where Frankie goes? Or with what?"
"Not with that ape."
Dick shook his head. "Can't tell about Frankie. Still I guess you're right. Not with that ape."
"Well, for once I don't envy Frankie. He'd better be careful. The ape seems to be about ready for anything."
"Girls will be girls." And they both laughed. Down in the dressing room, Frankie met Laura.
A few members of the band were also there listening to a radio.
"Don't you guys ever have enough?" Frankie asked.
The lead was wearing boots, bell-bottom pants, and a bright blue silk shirt. Like the other members of the group, his hair came down to his shoulders. He turned to Frankie and said, "Tired of what?"
"Those sounds, man," Frankie said, smiling.
"Those sounds, man," he repeated, "are our food. They keep us going."
Frankie nodded. He understood. "Then dig it." And he turned to Laura. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Tonight," she said, straightening her outfit, pulling at the bottoms of her briefs, where they cut into her thighs, "tonight, I don't know."
"He nodded, "Go out with me, then. O.K.?"
"Yes," she said.
After work Frankie took Laura to eat. The restaurant was small and dimly lighted. The walls, all dark wood panels, were covered with very strange looking paintings. Each had a price listed right under it.
The waitress walked slowly over with two large blocks of wood in her hand. On each of the sides of the block one part of the menu was pasted. She was a pretty girl in her twenties and like the other girls who worked there, she wore a black and white striped mini-skirt. She greeted Frankie by name when they first came in but he cut her warmth short with a cool greeting on his side.
One at a time, he thought, watching her walk toward the kitchen where the block-menus were kept. He knew that if he got greedy and went for another now, he might lose both. And he was too primed for Laura on this night to risk ruining his plans. He could feel that he had her.
The waitress who greeted Frankie wasn't the only one he knew there. It was a place that was frequented by the Greenwith Village working night crowd, and Frankie came here often. It really didn't come alive until about three in the morning. But from then on until six when it closed it was filled with people, all of them very strange looking. Long haired guitar players, dancers, waiters and waitresses from other clubs, even a whole group of female impersonators from one of the nearby shows.
"I like this place," Frankie said, looking around. "For some crazy reason I feel at home here. I don't know why but being among all these freaks makes me feel completely comfortable." He smiled at Laura and before she could voice some appropriate answer, he got up and walked over to the glowing, humming juke-box. When he came back, the whole place was reverberating with the folk-Rock music he had selected.
"That's another thing I like about this place," he said, sitting down, and countinueing his conversation as if he had not left at all.
"What's that?" Laura asked.
"The juke-box. They got a groovy selection of songs here and it's loud. It's the loudest box I ever heard," he added, raising his voice and winking at one of the female impersonators who looked back, smiling his most provocative smile. "Yeah, I really dig that spade music."
Laura shook her head. "But we just came from all that. Don't you ever get tired of it?"
"Me?" Frankie said, raising his hands and pointing to himself in one of his most characteristic gestures. "No, never. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret. Silence gives me a splitting headache. I can't take it at all."
Laura looked at him. "I've never met anyone like you at all."
"Maybe you were kicky," Frankie said, and for an instant his usual happy, charming, conceited mood changed.
"No, I don't think I would call it lucky," Laura said.
And Frankie went back to his usual self, "I'm unique." While he thought, I don't know what's the matter with me but sometimes this chick, for some reason I can't figure, really gets to me. Ah, it's probably my imagination. She's no different, just like all the rest. "Here's to you," he said, lifting up his glass of water, "a nice girl, a really nice girl."
Laura made a face. "I don't know if I like being called that. It sounds kind of dull."
"No, not dull at all. I meant it as a sincere compliment."
"Well, in that case," she said, lifting her glass and clicking it with his, "Thank you. And here's to you too, a really nice boy under all that outside flash." She drank from her glass and started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"I got so carried away with this that I was surprised when I just drank and tasted water in my glass. I actually thought it would be wine or something."
"No problem. Hey, Connie, bring us a bottle of Chianti and two glasses."
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time they left the restaurant, Laura felt herself filled with a warm glow from the wine and from Frankie. Outside, he put his arm around her shoulders and she put her arm around his waist and they walked all the way to her apartment.
At her door she turned and looked long and hard into has eyes and there was no question in either of their minds about the etiquette or procedure for the night.
"Would you like to come in?" she asked. "Try and keep me out."
Inside, the apartment was dark. "I guess, Norey isn't here," Laura said, checking her bedroom.
It wouldn't have made any difference even if she were, Frankie thought. Tonight's the night.
"Would you like some coffee or something?" Laura asked.
They started on the couch. They sat down as one and he put his weight on her forcing her back onto the pillows. Now when he kissed her, she opened her lips and inserted her tongue into his mouth. He drew on it with his lips and then forced his tongue into her mouth, searching deeply.
He shifted has weight slightly and now she could feel his excitement hard against her stomach. He slid his hand down around her breasts and squeezed-and massaged first one and then the other. His hand traveled lower, down her stomach, to her legs and under her skirt. He felt the tight gauze-like material of her nylons and then felt higher until his fingers pressed against the flesh of her thighs. She spread her legs and his fingers probed higher, until he grabbed her and held her, feeling the moistness building on the inside of her white panties.
He pressed harder until she voiced her feeling of pain. Then he loosened his hold, now stroking back and forth, straying to the insides of her thighs, forcing his fingers under the material of her panties and feeding the damp fur. He slid his hand out and standing up, looked down at Laura, at her long blond hair mussed, at her closed eyes now beginning to open, at her blouse pulled out of her skirt and at her skirt raised high, showing the tops of her nylons, the clasps of her garter belt, the white flesh of her thighs and the soft white panties, all exposed.
"Let's go into the bedroom" he said. "Get up." He reched down, grabbed her hands and pulled her up toward him.
She thought of saying no, not yet. But she didn't She thought of Dan and then how that was all over. And she thought of how lonely she'd been ever since coming to New York, how terribly, fright-engly lonely, and how maybe this, tonight, with Frankie might overcome that loneliness that lately was growing worse. That grew worse each day she went to the mailbox to look for a letter from Dan only to find it wasn't there.
She went into the bedroom almost hoping that Noreen would come home. Hoping and yet not hoping, not really knowing what she wanted except for the loneliness to disappear, to go back into the dark, empty night where it came from.
She took off her shoes and then her nylons and then her blouse and skirt. She turned to him. He just stood there watching her. When she turned, he smiled and started removing his clothes, opening his pants first.
She turned her back and slid her garter belt down her legs. Then standing only in white bra and panties, she hesitated a moment before sliding under the covers of the bed.
"The rest, too," Frankie said, getting under the covers himself, completely naked.
She did as she was asked. As soon as she lay back, he rolled on top of her, spread her with his hands and entered her, pushing deeper and deeper, harder and harder, hurting her and exciting her, but never stopping his movements, until it was over for both of them, until she tightened her whole body around him and he rushed into her.
Afterwards they lay back and each smoked a cigarette. Laura smoked her brand as usual, a mentholated filter tip. Frankie smoked his usual brand, narrow, rolled by himself and imported from Mexico.
Half an hour later, when he left, Laura lay in bed aware' that she was more lonely than ever, more lonely than she ever dreamed she would or even could be, so alone she wished she would die.
Two nights later in the early evening, Laura and Noreen were getting dressed for work. The whole day conversation between the girls had been strained and difficult. If I didn't know better, Laura thought, I'd swear that somehow Noreen suspected what happened between me and Frankie.
Noreen walked out of the bathroom, her dark hair in large light blue plastic curlers, a cigarette in her mouth. She sat down on her bed and started to pull on her mesh stocking tights. She put her cigarette out in a black ashtray on a small table beside the bed.
Laura walked in and their eyes met. Noreen stared until Laura turned away and went to the closet. She pulled out a red pair of pants. She took off her robe and, sitting down, pulled the tight pants up and buckled them. When she looked up, Noreen was still staring at her.
The harder she stared, the harder it became for Laura to meet her gaze.
"So it's true," Noreen finally said after a prolonged silence.
"True? What's true?" Laura asked, already afraid of the answer she knew was coming. And in an attempt to forestall the inevitable confrontation, added, "Oh darn, where are they? Did you see where I put my boots? The black ones?"
"No...."
And before she could continue, Laura interrupted her. "Oh, I remember," she said, bending down and searching under the bed. "Yeah, I knew it. Here they are."
She slipped them both on before Noreen spoke again.
"You slept with him, didn't you." She said it as if she were tired. It wasn't a question but a quiet statement of resignation. "How could you be so stupid? I thought you were smarter or better or just different or something. I guess I was wrong."
"Now, wait a minute, Norey, you don't understand," Laura said, feeling terribly ashamed and close to tears.
"Was it good?"
"It was.. I'm sorry. I really am."
"Don't be. You don't seem to understand. I'm not jealous of you."
"Then why.."
"Because, like, you ought to know by now, he's too much for you. Because if you give him half the chance, he's going to turn you upside down and destroy your square little mind."
"I can take care of myself," Laura said, her mood changing from shame to irritation and anger. "You're not my older sister, you know."
"Yeah, I know. Well, I warned you, that's all I meant to do. Now you know the rules of the game and you're on your own."
Laura put a white sweater on and thought for a while. "Do you want me to find a new place to live?"
Noreen lit another cigarette, "No, Me and Frankie are pretty much through. Or rather it's different now. Now with me it's the same as it is with him. I'm just in it for the kicks."
"I didn't know it was any different before," Laura said and could have bitter her tongue when she heard the venomous way it came out.
Noreen's tone didn't change. "And I didn't know you were such a catty bitch."
"I'm sorry."
"Forget it. But just for your own information it was different before. It may not have looked it but then I didn't want it to show. I cared. I cared too much. And he's just not worth it. But like later you'll find out for yourself."
After that the two girls finished dressing in silence. They put on the rest of their make-up, smoked, walked past each other, always avoiding each other's eyes. But something was bothering Laura. She had another question that needed answering. Yet she was afraid to ask it.
Noreen opened the refrigerator and started to make herself a salad. "We're going to have to start talking to each other again some time, we might as well save ourselves the hassle and start now. You want some salad?"
Laura smiled, "Yes, thanks." She paused for a moment before she asked, "You really don't care, do you?"
Noreen shook her head. "No, I couldn't care less." She thought for a moment and started to eat.
"Well, I'm glad about that, I really am. I think that would be the last straw if I hurt you, too. You're the only friend I have."
"Besides Frankie."
Laura nodded. And now it was time for the question. She couldn't put it off any longer. "Norey, how did you find out? How come you were so sure?"
"You know why."
"No, I don't. How?"
"He told me."
"Who?"
"Frankie, who eke but darling Frankie."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Now Laura's life began to change. It wasn't that she became less lonely; on the contrary, her loneliness grew. But a new element was added: a kind of frantic anxiety came on her more and more often. It was as if she had bought a ticket for a merry-go-round that never stopped but kept going around and around while it slowly but inexorably built up speed. And as the speed increased, a new element was added to the ride and that was the rumbling beginning of terror.
A week later, Laura came after shopping for clothes, only to find Frankie and Noreen in bed. And for some reason she could not understand, nobody cared, including she herself. It just didn't make any difference. Nothing made any difference at all.
After that Noreen caught Laura with Frankie one night on the couch, both completely naked. When she came in, instead of embarrassment, all three began to laugh uncontrollably. And with each incident like this, the merry-go-round picked up speed. It seemed that things like this served as fuel for the ride and Laura felt powerless to stop the mad turning.
It was only a very short step to taking one of the cigarettes Frankie offered her one night. She inhaled softly, remembering how much she had coughed the time before with Noreen.
They passed the joint back and forth until it was too small for Laura to hold. Then Frankie, the expert in such matters, held it for her, while she sucked in the smoke, putting her lips on his fingers.
When it was finished, finally becoming even too small for Frankie to hold, he dropped the glowing ember into 'an ashtray and lit up another. Laura shook her head no but he insisted and so she accepted. The music from the merry-go-round became louder.
Frankie watched Laura closely. Her eyes closed slightly and she seemed to visibly relax as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "How do you feel?" he asked.
She smiled. "Very nice, as if I were kind of floating on a beautiful cloud." And for no reason she could thing of, she started to giggle and then to laugh, while Frankie smiled with her.
"Wait until you try this," he said, getting up and going to the kitchen. "You're going to really love this. I bought it this afternoon just for this occasion."
"Occasion?" she called out after him, without getting up. She felt too comfortable to get up. All she wanted to do was just sit there on the cloud. "What occasion?"
"Your turning on with me. I had a feeling you would." And his feelings about matters like these were seldom wrong. He knew people or at least about certaing sides of people. He knew about merry-go-rounds from both ends, from riding on them himself and from putting other people on them and then cranking them up and watching them turn.
For a moment, Laura felt afraid at hearing his words. What had he planned? What was going to happen? And a slow panic began to build up within-her. "What are you doing?" she called out.
"You'll see," he answered and she could hear the refrigerator door open and close and the clinking sounds of dishes and silverware.
"What's taking so long?" she called.
"Nothing. Here I come," he said, walking back into the room, holding a cup in each hand. He gave her one of the cups and with a pounding heart she looked inside and began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" he asked smiling at the infectious quality of her open laughter.
"This.." she was still unable to talk. "I didn't know what.. and you bring me this.." She looked down into the cup again, at the pink and brown and white ice-cream.
"Well, eat it See if it tastes good," he said, reaching over and putting a spoonful into her mouth. "Well, how does it taste?"
She pushed it around in her mouth for a moment and then swallowed. "Oh, God, that tastes fantastic. It's so cold and sweet and good." It was true she had never tasted anything quite it. This was the way ice-cream was meant to taste. When she finished her cup, she asked for more.
"You don't want any more really, do you? You'll get fat," he said, staring at her trim, young body.
"No, I won't. I want some more."
"Well, OK., in a little while," he said, and leaned over and kissed her. He put his hand on her breasts. She had never felt a hand there so exciting before. He put his hand between her legs and lightly stroked. "In a little while," he said, but first, let's go to bed."
She got up and together they walked into the bedroom. "Unbutton my shirt," he said. She did so. Underneath he wore no undershirt "Now kiss my chest." She put her lips to his body. "Now lick me. That's it. Yeah, that's it. That's good. Don't stop. Lack me some more." And she did as she was told. Lately she always did as she was told. Frankie had only to ask and she obeyed.
Sal usually woke up around one or two in the afternoon. After washing up and smoking a cigarette or two he would walk out to the Bickford's cafeteria on the corner and have coffee and eggs. Actually, this routine almost never changed but instead formed the daily pattern of his life.
He laved on the third floor of a cheap hotel on twenty-third street. It was a gray, dismal looking structure of eight stories. From the outside it would have looked like a deserted building but for the lights in some of the windows and the forlorn orange neon sign that blinked over the street.
Under the small unimportant name of the hotel, the larger lettering read "Transients Accomodated." The sign itself was the color of moldy green. Everything about the structure suggested age and decay, not excluding the Old man who sat behind the main desk most of the day-an old man with thinning hair and most of his teeth missing who just sat behind that desk, watching and waiting.
Across the hall from Sal, and sharing the hall washroom with him, was an old woman who had once been an actress in Hollywood. She had been in a few movies and had done pretty well. Many people had known her name once. But that had been long ago. Now she just lived there, usually staying alone in her room, using a bottle of Thunderbird wine to help her remember the past and forget the present.
There had been times when she had tried to talk to Sal but he had discouraged these little conversations. He didn't want to be friends with her or even know her. There was no percentage in it for him and she got on his nerves anyway, always muttering to herself, passing out at times in the wash room.
It was a hotel for the old, for the forgotten, for the dying. A few of the rooms were used by some down and out prostitutes for their clients.
Still, all these people spoke to each other and formed almost a little community among themselves. They watched T.V., went to the movies, and often ate with each other. They shared their pasts, read their personal letters, talked and at least tried to share something. All of them, that is, except Sal. He stayed by himself always.
There was no cooking allowed but he kept a small hotplate in his room and ate many of his meals up there alone. There ware a few men he saw from time to time, mostly ex-members of the underworld like himself, fellow organization men who had not been able to rise beyond henchmen and thugs, men now holding jobs similar to one he had. But even these men found him too moody, too unpredictable in his reactions and too involved only with himself to be considered a friend.
As for his family, he never heard from them. Somewhere, years and years back in his past, he had a wife, even a kid. But that had been long ago, before he'd gone to prison, before he'd lost track, before he'd changed.
During the afternoons, he went up to Forty-Second Street and saw the movies that played there. And there too was where he often found other diversions. It was the same place he used to come to years before as a young man and he felt comfortable there.
But he wasn't going to live like this forever. No, he had plans. He would get back up there, out of this decaying hotel and back into good times. All he needed was to hit a lucky streak with the ponies to get back up there, where everything was fast and loose and easy.
Although, in reality, things were not exactly heading in this direction. In fact, if anything, it was those damned horses that were holding him back, keeping him exactly where he was, instead of propelling him forward.
The salary he made working six nights a week was not bad, but a major portion of it went to paying off all the bookies and loansharks he owed money to, because lately the mags had not been running his way. They had never run his way even though he had been playing them for years. And he owed so much all the time that it seemed they might never run his way.
Still, he thought, all I need is that one streak. One streak and I could pay all those bastards back once and for all. One streak and I could set myself up in business, maybe even buy a bar of my own. One streak and I could quit those ponies forever. But so far his one streak had not come. It had not come with horses, or with baseball or basketball or football, or with cards or with anything else.
He looked around at the decaying walls of his room, at the mirror hanging over the sink, and to the right, past his one closet, to the window that overlooked the street and picked up all the blaring sounds of the traffic below that never stopped rolling by. No, nothing ever stops, he thought, and nothing ever changes.
For moods like this, he stocked bottles of liquor he swiped from the club. When drunk, he became still more angry and less friendly than he was when sober. Always dose to violence, now he was even closer and many men had found out just how strong he still was. They usually found out the next morning about the big guy in the bar or on the street the night before. They found out when they woke up and felt their bruises and saw their own blood.
In the evening he would come back and change into one of the three black tuxedos hanging in the closet. He liked wearing them. He didn't consider them a uniform for his job, as Frankie might view them.
Before he left that evening, Sal looked at the small picture above his dresser. It was not framed but merely taped to the wall. It was not a professional picture but a small snapshot, not even in color. It was just a black and white picture taken at a party held in the club last New Year. Just a picture of a young attractive couple, of Noreen and Frankie.
And Sal, looking at them couldn't decide which one he hated more or which one he wanted more. And this mixture of hate and wanting and jealousy and desire was growing a little each day.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Further uptown on the East side, as the streets and buildings became nicer, cleaner and more expensive, as the people changed from badly dressed to well dressed, it was almost as if the weather changed too, almost as if the sun shined brighter or, at least, showed its better side. Here instead. of cheap hotels like Sal's huddling over gray streets, brownstones, town-houses and new luxury high-rise apartment buildings looked out over quiet tree-lined avenues.
Many of the apartments here were too expensive for one person so they were shared by two or more people dividing the rent. They were usually young and just starting out in their careers, young and unmarried and searching.
In one of these buildings, each so much like all the others, Dale lived with her roommate, Jan. She earned about the same salary as Sal, but then she didn't have his gambling expenses, so she lived in a good neighborhood, her building had a doorman and the halls were carpeted.
Yet Dale's life was inextricably tied to Sal's in many ways. There was first, of course, the obvious fact that both worked in the same club and the same people. But their involvement went more deeply than that.
Dale was twenty-three years old. She had been a go-go dancer for two years. Before that there had been a series of secretarial jobs, but this dancing was more compatible with her personality. It wasn't that she wanted to break into show business or anything like that, but it was to this fringe area of the theatre, T.V. and the arts that girls similar to herself often came. Under the large magic umbrella of art and creativity these girls could come and find each other and huddle together.
Dale liked girls. She made no secret of it and now, in this field, among these people, she could be herself without fearing the disdain of others or the loss of her job. Here it could work just as easily for her as against her. Here the mask could be removed and the desire and the searching could show themselves if not proudly then at least not ashamedly either.
She was not sure whether she had always felt this way. When she was much younger, she had not thought about boys or girls, not in that way, anyway. She had always been very innocent when it came to sex.
Her parents had been strict with her and at a very early age she stopped asking questions. As a little girl she was more prim and proper than her friends. That lasted until just before she turned sixteen.
Around then her young body began to fill out with the natural curves of womanhood. Her hips grey round, her legs tapered and her breasts swelled larger and larger. So large in fact, they made her feel self-conscious. Wherever she walked, in school or along the street, boys and men stared at her. For a time, she even walked hunched over to hide them but they just grew larger.
Now, she was glad. She might even become a stripper some day. She certainly had the body for it, she thought, whenever she stood nude in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, holding her breasts and rubbing them until the nipples grew erect.
But when she'd been younger, the strange boys and men were not the only ones who noticed her body. Her father's brother also had noticed and watched and waited.
He waited until one night when he had come over to the house. It was Thanksgiving Eve and her parents had gone out.
"Oh I didn't know they wouldn't be here," he had said at the door. "And did they just leave you here all alone on Thanksgiving?"
"They had to. It had something to do with a business promotion for Daddy."
"Oh, well why don't you come out with me for dinner?"
"Well, I guess so. Yes."
The dinner had been fun. Afterwards he had taken her dancing, and due to the fullness of her body had no trouble at all talking her into a nightclub and buying her drinks, the first liquor she had ever had.
It had been a wonderful evening for her and sitting there in the darkened club she had told him so. Leading her out to the dance floor, he assured her it wasn't over. On the contrary, it was just beginning.
They left early and instead of taking her straight home, he suggested going up to his apartment She was having such a good time and he was her uncle so it didn't even occur to her to say no. Only when they got there, he changed. He was no longer content to just be her uncle, he want to be more.
At first she was confused, then a little flattered. Then as he went further and became more sexual, she tried to push him away but he only held her harder. She bit him and he threw her down. She didn't know later whether it was because she hit her head or because of the liquor or because of her fear or the combination of all three-but she fainted.
And what brought her back to consciousness was not time or smelling salts or rest or tender care but pain, searing, frightening pain between her legs. Opening her eyes, the first and only thing she saw was her kind uncle, on top of her, pushing into her; and then she felt him inside, felt the pain and the pleasure and heard herself scream again and again, and then it was over.
She never mentioned it to anyone but after that she associated her pain with all men and turned for her pleasure to women.
More than other men, Frankie reminded her of her uncle, and her hatred for him grew. And more than other women, including her roommate Jan, Laura excited and pleased her. Just like Sal, she wanted Frankie to stop seeing Laura. Dale and Sal were on the same side whether they wanted to be or not. And Laura was again caught in the middle.
Jan was a tall slim girl with long straight blond hair. Unlike Dale, she worked during the day as a secretary for an ad agency. Many of the young men there tried to date her, but with no success. She told them she had a boyfriend and each prospective suitor envied this lucky young man, whoever he might be. After all, they thought, there aren't many girls who are so faithful to one man.
They were right about her being failthful, but completely wrong about it being to one man. Jan was completely faithful to one woman, and that was Dale.
Unlike Dale she had never experienced anything horrible with a man. In fact, she had never experienced anything at all with a man, good or bad. She had simply known, ever since she was a very young girl, that she was interested sexually only in other women.
Maybe it was because she had always gone to all-girl boarding schools and had experienced sex with other girls at a very early age. Maybe it was because she had always felt such a strong attachment for her father, too strong to want or allow any other man to replace him. Maybe it was a combination of these reasons or all of them or even none of them. Jan didn't know and She didn't care. She was happy living with Dale, and she never really gave it very much thought.
Even though she worked during the day, she did all the womanly things around the house. She cooked, did the cleaning, and on those few times when in the privacy of their own living room the two girls danced with each other, it was Dale who led.
Dale, with her shorter hair and more aggressive manner, quite naturally took over the masculine side of their relationship. At least, in most areas, this was true.
One place where it changed from time to time was in bed. There was a fierce demanding streak in Jan that seldom showed itself, but when it did, she exercised it on Dale.
It would usually come about because of an argument between the girls. Jan would grow beside herself with anger. She would yell and scream and throw things. She called Dale the vilest names, using such language that Dale wondered where a girl brought up in exclusive boarding schools would learn some of it.
But this was more of a jumping off point for Jan than just simply a way of blowing off steam. After her maniacal screaming, she got physically violent-the way some men do after drinking; and then blaming their wives for all their failures.
Jan would up a rope or a belt from one of her dresses and beat Dale. And strangely enough, Dale not only accepted these fits of rage but in a way welcomed them and actually waited for them.
Jan would make her remove all her clothes except for a garter belt and stockings. Then she would begin and when Dale started to cry, Jan would stop.
Then she asked Dale's forgiveness which, with some coaxing, was always given. Then the two made love, with Jan playing the more aggressive role.
It didn't happen often, but when it did, about once a month, the same exact things, in the same exact order, always happened. That Jan grew angry and Dale repentant (followed by their reversing their roles) did not really happen by accident but always on cue. It was as if the two had consented to play the same game over and over again so long that it had become a kind of ritual with them.
And this ritual could not be performed to such perfection with any other partner. At least, this was how the two girls felt. They had each found the perfect mate m each other. It was true that Dale might cheat from time to time, but to Jan's mind this was only to be expected. After all, men will be men, and it's in their nature to cheat.
In a way, Jan and Dale loved each other. They knew each other as well as anyone can possibly know another human being and they accepted each other. They had been living together for three years and neither felt like changing the arrangement. It was a relationship made not so much in heaven as in the lonely night streets of New York.
Laura was not the only one forced onto a merry-go-round with no brass ring in sight. It seemed everyone had his own version, his own whirling ride that picked him up and aimed toward his own destruction.
Everyone creates his own hell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Frankie was bored. It was happening more and more often. Instead of getting out of bed he would turn over and try to go back to sleep. Lately, he was sleeping whole days away.
It was partly due to the drugs he was consuming. But that was only a part of it. Now before going out, he would take a pill to wake him up, to destroy his depression, and make him feel like leaving his apartment.
He decided that he had to get involved in some new scenes, he had to shake himself up and, as a result, he had to shake some others up. He would work on them all, but first and foremost was Laura. He wondered how much she cared for him thought of tests he could devise to find out.
The next time he took her home, he chose a night when Noreen was working and would also be staying at their apartment. After work, he took them both out to breakfast. He had two pills in him that night, and he was very talkative and very charming. Both girls kept laughing at everything he said and did.
The mood changed though when he took them home. Instead of leaving them both at the door and leaving, he surprised them by inviting himself inside. Both girls knew he was sleeping with each of them. Both had somehow settled this in their minds enough to accept the situation.
Laura knew to some small extended what Frankie was. She didn't expect much from him. What she wanted was somehow to stop feeling so alone. If it meant accepting Frankie no his own terms, she was willing to do it. She had made the bargain in her own mind and tried to accept its terms and consequences.
Noreen knew much more of what Frankie really was. She knew because in many ways she was similar. Yet even she didn't know to what degree he would go, and just how far out he really was. She had cared for him before more than she did now. It had become for her a diversion, a source for kicks and in a way a game, whose rules kept changing. More than a game, with someone like Frankie, it was a test, a test to see if you could survive him.
They all sat down in the living room drinking coffee, talking and waiting for Frankie to decide. Laura felt as if she were up for sale and competing against Noreen. Noreen wondered who and how Frankie would choose.
Frankie looked at them both. "You look a little nervous, Laura," he said. "Anything wrong?" His tone was one of innocence and he was obviously enjoying himself.
"Wrong? No, nothing. Everything's O.K.," Laura answered, sitting back and crossing her legs.
"And how about you, Noreen. How do you feel?" he asked.
"Great," she answered. She too was now enjoying the situation.
The only one who was not enjoying it was Laura. She really was nervous and waiting for something to happen. What will happen, she thought, if he just gets up and chooses Noreen and takes her into the other room? What will I do? And what if he chooses me? Will I say no? Can I? I don't know. I just don't know.
It was as if Frankie had now gained control over the merry-go-round that all three were on. He could speed it up or slow it down at will. He could make the music loud and more frantic. But just how fast he could make it turn even he wasn't sure.
"You look very groovy, tonight, Noreen," he said. "You really excite me."
"Thanks," Noreen said and smiled.
Laura winced and looked away. Walk out, she told herself. You can leave and stop this whenever you want to.
"But Laura looks better," Frankie went on.
Now Noreen's expression changed. "You don't look like all that much, yourself," she said to Frankie.
And Laura's resolve to leave was broken and now she found herself still sitting there, caught in a web that Frankie, like some master black hairy spider, was weaving around the wall.
Frankie laughed. "Well, I do alright anyway. How about making some more coffee, Noreen?"
"O.K.," she said, and left the room to go into the kitchen. When she was gone Frankie went over to Laura and kissed her. She didn't kiss him back, though.
"What's the matter," he asked, stroking her neck. "I never promised anything better. Why are you angry?"
"If you have to ask," she said, a new note coming into her tone, "you won't be able to understand."
"You have to accept things the way they are. Don't keep asking for more all the time with everything or you might find yourself ending up with nothing. Living isn't a magazine article, you know."
"I (know, but.."
He interrupted her. "Forget the but. See if this fits," he said and reached into his pocket and took out a gold ankle bracelet with two florentined hearts on it.
Laura looked at it. She was shocked. "You mean you bought this for me?"
He smiled. "Sure. But if you don't want it," and he made a gesture to take it back.
"No, I mean yes, of course, I want it. Oh, Frankie, it's beautiful." She turned the two hearts over, "But what did you engrave.. There's nothing here."
"If you want some sentimental crap written on it, you don't know me at all."
"Well, O. K. 'It's nice just the way it is. Thank you."
"Will you wear it?"
"Of course I will. I'll put it on right now." She bent down and took off her boot and rolled up her pants, just as Noreen walked in with the coffee.
"Oh, Norey, look what Frankie just gave me," Laura said, holding up the bracelet to Noreen.
Even Noreen was taken back by this. "Well, that's great. It really is." But she wondered at the same time what this meant exactly to Frankie.
Laura put it around her ankle and clipped it together. She thought that the situation was saved and that the night was over. But she was wrong.
It was just beginning.
They each took another cup of coffee and for a while all three drank in silence. The only sounds were of their sipping and swallowing the hot liquid. Laura was happy with the bracelet and sat there with her boots off, glancing down at it every once in a while. Noreen was at once envious of Laura but also wondering just why Frankie had bought it. She knew him pretty well and to her mind, he must have had some reason.
Frankie knew the reason. He had bought it to save just such a situation, to save it and, at the same time, to push it further when it was in danger of losing its momentum and coming to a stop.
He had played the whole thing by ear. He had planned on giving it to Laura but if he had been wrong, if he had seen that Laura was responding differently and that Noreen was on the verge of dropping out of the game, he would simply have asked Laura to make coffee. Then using the same words, he would have given the bracelet to Noreen.
He was glad that it had been Laura, though, because that was the way he thought it would happen. It was an extra kick to have been right, almost as if he could predict the future or read their minds.
He took out some of his special cigarettes and passed them around to the girls, drawing all three closer together by sharing something. Now he was being charming again, putting both girls at ease, getting both of them to like and trust him again. By now he was really beginning to enjoy the game.
He maneuvered "Them so that both girls sat on the couch, with himself in the middle. He sat back and spread his legs so that his thighs touched each of theirs without either girl being aware in the dimly lit room that he was touching the other. It was working out perfectly and he was really enjoying himself.
He squinted his eyes. "It's too light in here. It hurts my eyes. You two don't mind if I turn off the lamp do you?" he said, getting up and clicking off the switch.
"Well, I'm getting a little tired, anyway," Laura said. "I think I feel like going to sleep."
"Oh, not yet," Frankie said. "Wait a while."
"He sat back down between the two. Now the only light came from the window, the natural light of a bright moon and the artificial light of the street lamps. Frankie leaned over and kissed Laura and at the same time, he reached in between No-reen's legs and rubbed and excited her.
Now Noreen knew what he was up to. Before he had made light, almost casual, almost joking remarks about it, but now he was trying for it for real with both of them. As far as she was concerned, she was ready. It would be a new kick to try a sandwich. She thought of the possibilities and helped Frankie's hand move in and out and squeeze and move again.
He shook her hand off and she, who knew Frankie so well, knew what this meant. She knew what he wanted her to do and she put her hand now between his legs, and stroked and squeezed.
Frankie removed his hand from Noreen-it had been in an awkward and uncomfortable position so Laura wouldn't know-and started to massage Laura's breasts. She opened her eyes to tell him that they should go into the other room when she saw what he was doing at the same time with Noreen, and what she was doing with him between his legs.
"No, she cried. "No."
"Relax, baby," Frankie said. "Just dig it. It's groovy."
"But.."
"No buts, remember, just accept."
"I can't."
"You can," he said. "Relax," And he kissed her neck while he guided Noreen's willing hand to Laura's breasts.
"Oh, but.."
And he kissed her and slid his hand between her legs. Then he kissed Noreen while still holding Laura between her legs while Noreen still massaged Laura's breasts.
It was all beginning to spin around for Laura. The merry-go-round was going too fast. Everything was becoming a mad jungle of arms and legs.
And for a while she forgot her loneliness in pleasure..
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Laura woke up the next morning, Frankie had gone and Noreen lay asleep In her own bed. She tried to blot out the memory of the night before but found she was unable to do so. She remembered them leaving the living room and how all three were caught up in the excitement. They had entered the bedroom laughing and soon all three removed their clothes.
One bed had not been large enough and they had rolled Noreen's bed next to Laura's. And then it was all mouths and hands and legs. Inside her head, Laura screamed there were too many, but she had continued all the same. She could still feel the four hands probing every part of her body, could still feel Noreen's mouth, could still feel Frankie..
Now it was the morning after and it was all over. The strange thing was that she now felt even more lonely than before. Instead of it diminishing, the feeling of emptiness grew. The more she became involved with these people, the more she felt apart from herself.
When Noreen awoke, she was feeling fine. She walked into the kitchen, said good morning to Laura and poured some of the water Laura had heated into a cup, making instant coffee. Her black hair was uncombed and fell in snarls over her face.
"Wow, what a night we had. That was really some circus, wasn't it?" she said.
Laura shrugged and left the room. Noreen watched her leave. She watched her the whole morning, how she walked, how she got dressed, the way she talked, the way she had trouble meeting Noreen's eyes. Noreen thought, I'd better tell Frankie to go easy on her.
But when Frankie came over early that evening to pick them up, he disagreed. "Don't worry about Laura, she's stronger than she looks," he said.
"But Frankie, look at her. I'm telling you she's changed."
"She's no more changed than you are. What's the matter, you afraid of the competition?"
"No, but you're going too far with her. She can't take it."
"Sure she can. You think last night was kicky? It was just a beginning. What I want to do is repeat it and refine it and add to it."
"Add to it. What is there?.."
"There's plenty. Everything improves with practice. And if we could get a few more people from the club to come here and participate."
Noreen took a step back. This was going to far even for her. Last night just happened, but to plan for it and to add to it, well, there were just some lines you didn't cross, some forbidden areas you didn't enter or else you faced the dangerous possibility of never being able to return.
That was possible but one thing was certain-Laura could never in a million years stand anything like that. She'd go out a window or swallow too many pills or cut her wrists or something. But she would really do it.
"But Frankie," she started to say and then she saw his eyes and she saw the truth finally. Frankie knew more about all this than she ever could and he also knew Laura better than she herself did. He knew all the possibilities and probabilities and also what was inevitable. He wasn't afraid of anyone's suicide including Laura's, or her own, or even his own.
He had been speaking of additions to the game. He had only mentioned more people but now she understood he also meant more and deeper and more naked emotions. Suicide was just one more aspect of the game,, perhaps to Frankie the most interesting part because the stakes were the highest. Suicide, madness, drugs, anything went as long as he kept pushing for more, further and further and further out.
Noreen looked at Frankie and suddenly realized she was seeing him for the first time. She also now understood why every other man she dated seemed pale and small beside him. Maybe for all her assurance, she was still caught in his web of influence. Maybe she always would be. But that didn't mean Laura had to be. Laura was still new to all this. She could still escape it. And Noreen vowed to herself that she would see that Laura didn't get ensnared. Maybe, she thought, just maybe by saving Laura I stand a chance of saving myself.
Frankie looked at her. "You're beginning to catch on, aren't you?"
Noreen nodded, still unable to speak.
"Well, it's about time. For a while there I beginning to thing you might be pretty stupid," he said.
"I guess I was for a long time. Now I can see why you used to call me bitch before we went to bed."
"Why?"
"Because," she went on, watching some of his arrogance melt, "love to you is all mixed up with hate."
His expression went serious for a moment. "You're learning, stupid. You're learning."
"Then why do you call me stupid?"
"Because you still dig me so much. Because after al this and all you know, I still have you."
She nodded.
It was true.
Within a short time it became apparant to everybody at the club that Laura was changing, and not for the better. When people spoke to her she often didn't hear what they said. She was drinking more and smoking more.
At night when she went home, there were more scenes with Frankie and Noreen. Whatever Frankie asked of her she did. A few friends tried to talk to her, to help her, but she didn't listen to their advice.
The only thing she knew was that the loneliness was growing incredibly large, becoming too big for her to handle.
"Why don't you leave?" Noreen asked her.
She looked at Noreen. "Because I've nowhere to go."
"Well, what about home to that town, whatever its name was?"
"I don't have anything or anyone there."
"Well, there's that army guy used to-talk about when we first met."
"No, that's over. That's all over." And she started to cry. Lately, she was crying more and more.
When the music started she got up to dance. Inside the cage her body moved as before. There was still a smile on her face. You had to smile when you danced or the owners looked for a new girl. You had to look as if you were having a great time, as if, given a choice of being anywhere in the world you wanted, here in this cage, dancing to this music, in this club would be your choice.
Her blond hair still jumped about. Men still stared. No, all these things were the same. If you wanted to see the change in her you had to look much more closely. You had to look in her eyes. You had to stare at them to see the deadness in them.
Dick and Bob saw it and asked if anything was wrong. Dale saw it and asked if she could help. Even Sal saw it and wished there were something he oould do. Everyone who saw her wanted to put her right again; everyone, that is, hut Frankie. He saw it, he watched it grow, he nourished it. It excited him. For the first time in many months, Frankie was happy. Things were going his way. Or so he thought.
But other things around him were also changing, namely Sal. Sal was beginning to understand that he would never get Frankie and as a result his feelings were all changing. He was beginning to hate the sight of Frankie.
Now, forgetting how he had once felt about Laura, he began to feel sorry for her. And this only fed his growing hatred for Frankie. "Dammit, who does that punk thing he is," Sal muttered to himself as Frankie walked by, his head held high. "Look at the way he struts. Nobody has the right to walk like that."
"What was that?" asked Dick, standing nearby.
"Nothing punk, keep moving," Sal said.
Ordinarily Dick would have said something smart or nasty or cutting to Sal, but this time when he saw the way Sal looked, he said nothing. There seemed to be a new tone in Sal's voice too, and Dick went over to Bob to warn him to be careful.
"Yes, I know. Sally is flipping out and we both better be careful."
"We all better be careful."
Frankie stood at the door in his black tuxedo, his long hair shining. Who else could I ask, he thought, to join our group? Maybe Dale. She'd like to get a chance at Laura. And I wouldn't mind the chance to get at Dale. It would be a real change for her to make it with a guy. Who knows what she might do? I might even cure her.
He turned and stared at Laura, sitting down now at the dancer's table. I have to give the credit, though, she's really taking it. And she's not complaining. I have respect for that.
There were no people coming in and Frankie's mind was free to go on planning. I can't ask Dick and Bob. They wouldn't be of any use to anybody but each other. He surveyed the bartenders, the other waiters, the bands, even Sal, and finally decided that for now at least, Dale was the most likely candidate.
But when he asked her, she refused. "Get lost, scum," she said.
"Watch your mouth, dike or I'll.."
"You'D what, scum?" Dale repeated and picked up a beer bottle from a table.
Frankie had no doubt she would use it and once coming to this conclusion, his manner changed. He smiled, once again all charm. "O. K., if you don't want to, you don't want to. I thought you'd jump at the chance. But suit yourself. Just suit yourself." And he walked back to his post at the door.
"What was that all about?" Noreen said, coming over.
"All what?"
"That with Frankie. I just saw with a bottle in your hand."
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
Frankie also noticed the ways in which Laura was changing and he liked what he say. The more she changed, the more it showed his influence over her. But he wanted his domination to be still more complete.
One morning when all three were getting out of bed, Frankie looked at Laura and said, "You know Laura, I thought you weren't happy being just a go-go dancer. I thought you wanted to be an actress."
Laura shrugged, "I still want to, I guess. Why do you ask?"
"Are you sure you still want to be an actress?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, good, that's what I thought," he went on. "Because a friend of mine is casting for a movie and he needs a young girl with long, blond hair like yours. So I suggested you."
Laura's whole attitude changed, "Did you really, Frankie? Oh, that sounds great. What kind of part as it?"
"I don't know," Frankie answered.
"And what kind of movie is it, and who is this friend?" Noreen cut in, her tone and expression clearly showing her suspicion and distrust. She knew Frankie too well not to know that he never did anything that wouldn't benefit him in some way.
"I don't know. I just know what I already told you. I thought you'd be real excited. Of course, M you're not interested.."
"No, no, I am," Laura said quickly.
"Good. The audition is this Friday at ten."
Noreen was still suspicious. She didn't want Laura to get into another situation that would prove to be too much for her. She still had hopes of somehow getting Laura to break with Frankie.
"What's in it for you?" Noreen asked. "Don't tell me you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart-I know better."
"No, not the kindness of my heart. This makes me Laura's agent and I'll get ten per cent of whatever she makes on this job. Right Laura?"
"Yeah. That's alright with me."
"You, an agent," Noreen half laughed.
"That's right, me, an agent. And I'll get her other work after this, too."
"When I see it," Noreen said, "I'll believe it."
"Well, get ready .to believe then," Frankie said.
Actually, the fact that she was looking out somewhat for Laura was not the only reason for Noreen's attitude. She was also a little bit envious. After all, she still had hopes of becoming an actress, too. If all of this was on the level, then Laura was really being given a great opportunity. Hell, Noreen thought, Frankie could just as easily have set this whole thing up for me. I would have dyed my hair any color for a part in a movie, even green.
"It sounds good, doesn't it?" Frankie said to Laura.
"Yes," she nodded her head.
"I thought you'd be pleased. Now why don't you go in the kitchen and whip up some breakfast for all of us."
"Sure, what do you want?"
"Let me have two hamburgers, I'm hungry this morning."
Noreen shook her head. "As many times as I hear it, it still surprises me to hear you ask for meat for breakfast. I've heard of vegetarians but never people who only ate meat."
"Well, now you heard of one. I only eat meat, no matter what the meal is."
"Maybe it's because you like the idea of eating flesh," Noreen said.
"Maybe it is," Frankie answered.
"Now stop it, you two. Let's not fight this morning for any reason. What do you want for breakfast, Noreen?" Laura asked.
"Eggs," she answered, "but I'll make them myself."
But Laura wouldn't hear of it. She felt too good and she wanted to spread some of this feeling around. "No, I'll do all the cooking myself. You two just relax."
"That'll be great," Frankie said. "But let's hurry, O'K.? because I'm starved."
"O.K.," Laura laughed, "I'm going right now," and she left the room and went into the kitchen. In a minute, they could hear the sounds of cooking, the refrigerator opening and closing and pots clanking together, in the kitchen.
Frankie turned to Noreen. "Close the door."
"Why?" Noreen asked.
He smiled and put his hand into her robe, letting it rest between her legs. "You know why," he said. She laughed, "Don't you ever have enough?"
"No," he said, "never."
"I believe you," she said, as she walked over and closed the door lightly. She turned and slipped off her robe and got under the covers with him.
They touched and rubbed each other's bodies. Frankie stroked her thighs while Noreen used her moist tongue on him, until he quickly changed his position and forced her to lie down under him.
"No, Frankie," she said, "not yet. I'm not ready."
But he didn't listen. He didn't care if she was ready, he only knew that he was. He forced his way into her, deeper and deeper, pushing harder and harder.
Noreen felt the pain but she also felt the excitement and now she really was ready. She began to move on him to the same rhythm with which he was moving into her, until her movements became more abandoned, until it was over for both of them.
It had all happened very quickly, and afterwards she lay back, her body sweating.
"Frankie," she said, "this movie deal, is it really on the level?"
"Sure it is," he said, slipping on his brief underwear.
"But.."
"Can't talc now," he said, opening the door. "I think my hamburgers are about ready."
As he walked through the other room, Noreen heard him call out, "Remember I like them rare. I like my meat rare."
He's a cannibal, Noreen thought, a cannibal. He'll swallow both of us if we're not careful.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday morning, Laura dressed and applied her make-up with care. This was an important day for her and she wanted to look her "best. The night before, she had called in sick to work just so she could have a full night's beauty rest before her audition. Frankie had told her it wasn't necessary, but she had insisted.
She was wearing a short red skirt and a soft pink sweater. Her long yellow hair was shining. She surveyed herself in the mirror.
"You'll knock him dead," Frankie said coming up behind her and kissing the back of her neck.
She smiled. "I hope so."
"You're not nervous are you?"
"Just a little, I guess."
"Well, don't be. In fact, just to give you moral support, I've decided to go down there with you," Frankie said.
"Oh, will you? That would be great," Laura said. She was pleased. It wasn't often that Frankie would offer to do anyone a favor.
Noreen said, "Just for moral support, huh?"
He flashed his grin. "Well, if it'll make you feel any better, I might also be going down to protect my investment."
"Investment?" Noreen questioned.
"My ten per cent."
She nodded. "That does make me feel better. Now I understand. For a second there, I was all set to believe in Santa Claus."
"Maybe you should," Laura said.
But Noreen still wasn't completely satisfied. "Why should you have to protect your investment? What part in all this are you going to play? How could you help?" Noreen asked.
Frankie looked at her hard and direct and his haze said everything that needed to be understood by Noreen. His eyes said, watch it. Don't keep this up. Shut your mouth or I'll do something about it.
Noreen colored and turned away under his ice-cold stare. He could only be pushed so far and Noreen knew she had just come to that point so she sat down and remained silent.
"Are you ready?" Frankie called to Laura.
"Yes. Here I come," she said, stepping out of the bathroom.
"Great," Frankie said, as she entered. "Just great."
They took a taxi to an office building near Forty-Second Street. Going up in the elevator, Laura questioned Frankie again.
"This man is a producer, right?"
"Yes."
"What was his name again?"
"Richmond. George Richmond. Don't worry, relax."....
At the twenty-third floor, they got out and walked to the suite of offices at the end of the long narrow corridor. On the door it said "Richmond Productions, Inc."
Inside Laura expected to find a secretary, but there was none, just a small outer office that was empty. It led to another door that was closed. To the right was a small desk with a gray typewriter on it.
Frankie went to the closed door and knocked on it.
"Come in," a man's voice answered. Frankie turned to Laura, "Let me go in alone first."
She nodded her consent.
He walked in, closing the door behind him. Five minutes later, the door opened and he walked out. "Go ahead in," he said. "It's all set."
Feeling a little nervous, she got up and went into the inner office. Behind a large desk sat a balking middle-aged man. He got up and walked over to her and said, "How do you do? My name is George Richmond and you are, of course, the Laura that Frankie had told me so much about."
She smiled. "Yes. I'm happy to meet you."
"Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable, but first just let me close the door to assure us some privacy. There now," he said, sitting on top of the front of his desk and staring down at Laura.
I wish he wouldn't stare so hard, she thought. I feel as if he's looking right through me or else undressing me with his eyes.
At first he was very friendly, asking her all kinds of general questions about her background and interests. Then he asked her to stand up and walk around.
"Now you know, of course, that the camera looks more closely than anyone ever can. It magnifies your face and your body eighty four times. If you are pretty it can make you even prettier. But if you have imperfections, why it can magnify those imperfections and make you positively ugly. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Good. Then come here."
She walked over to him.
"Closer," he said. "Let me see your face. Yes, good. Now, your profile. Yes, excellent. Now around again." He nodded his head. "Fine again. Now let me see your legs."
"What?" she said.
"Your legs, raise your skirt."
She colored slightly and raised her skirt until the tops of her nylons were showing.
"Please, Miss, I understand that at your job, you wear considerably less. Raise it higher."
She hitched it up now until her white thighs showed between the black straps of her garter belt.
He motioned with his hand for her to show more. She pulled up higher and the bottoms of her white panties showed.
He stared a little longer than he had to, smiled, and said, "Now turn around.. good, very good. You can drop your skirt now."
Laura did so and went back to sit down.
"Now lift up your sweater," he said.
Laura was beginning to get a little angry. "Don't you want to give me a scene and listen to my voice or witness my acting ability?"
"Of course," he said, "but in due time. Now lift your sweater."
Laura hesitated.
"Young lady, I'm a busy man. Do you want this jab or don't you?"
"Well, yes, I do but.."
He interrupted, "Then lift your sweater."
She lifted it slowly above her breasts until the white bra she wore showed.
"Very pretty," he said. "Now take off the bra, please."
"Take off my bra? Why?"
He looked at her and answered impatiently, "So I can see your breasts, of course."
"Now, wait a minute. You can't tell me the camera is going to, to.."
"But of course it is. Frank told me to go slowly but I thought you understood that we are making an explotation film, a girlie-nudie picture. Now do you understand?"
Laura nodded, too surprised to talk at first. So this was what Frankie had gotten for her! She lowered her sweater and walked out of the office.
When Frankie saw her, he said, "Well, how did it go?"
She didn't answer him but just kept on walking, leaving him standing there, his mouth open.
When Frankie and Noreen and Laura came that night, things were not the same with them as always. Laura was angry about what had happened that morning in the producer's office.
"How could you do such a thing to me?" Laura asked.
"I didn't know you would be so against it," was his answer. "Didn't know?"
"I thought you would consider it a good opportunity."
"Oh yeah, great! I really want you to know how much I appreciate it," she said, sarcasm dripping from each word.
"Listen, what was so terrible anyway?"
"If you don't know I can't tell you."
"Wait a second, now everybody just sit down and we'll talk this out," he said.
"No," Laura answered, "I'm going to sleep-alone."
Frankie knew he had to do some fast talking. He wanted both of them tonight and as things stood, Laura was not going to join in the action.
"Now wait a minute, give me a chance, you might just be wrong," he said.
"Or," Noreen said, "she might just be right."
"You see even Noreen knows what I'm saying is right," Laura said.
Frankie smiled. Now he was onto something that might begin to save the situation for him. "Yea, Noreen agrees. Except she's already posed naked for men's magazines," he said.
Laura turned to Noreen who blushed and looked at Frankie, "you really are a bastard."
"Is it true?" Laura asked. Noreen hesitated.
"Don't be so modest, baby," Frankie said. He took out his wallet and walked over to Laura. "Just take a look at this one. It showed too much to be published so I kept it myself."
"What?" Noreen shouted, running over to Laura to look at the picture Frankie was holding. It was a small color picture showing Noreen spread-eagled on a light colored fur rug. On her face was an expression of sexual pain, while her two arms were extended down, fingers on thighs, spreading them apart. Her nipples were erect and between her legs, her dark pubic hair showed in a tangled hairy triangle.
"Nice, isn't it?" Frankie said.
"Give me that, damn you," Noreen said, reaching for it, grabbing it out of his hands and quickly tearing it up.
Frankie smiled. "I've got the negative at home, not to mention a few others. That photographer was a friend of mine, a very good friend."
Laura looked at Noreen and then at Frankie. How did she ever get involved in all this? she thought.
"Now," he said, "let's sit down and talk. You might be wrong about a few other things, too."
The girls sat down meekly.
"First of all," he said, "all the big actresses are showing what they have now. Not just the European ones but the American ones too."
"But that's different."
"Why?"
"Because, because the movies are real movies. They're not just about. ."
He interrupted her. "Plenty of them are. And you're just starting, remember. Who knows who could have seen you in this and liked you? Maybe even a legitimate producer. Right?"
"Well, I guess it's possible."
"And the money was very good for this. You made a mistake by walking out." Frankie went on and on naming stars and movies to prove his point until Laura just felt tired and Noreen just felt resigned.
Neither one really agreed with him but neither one actually disagreed any longer, either. When he took hold of both of them and led them into the bedroom, neither one protested. And in bed, amid the pleasure and the laughing and the bizarre excitement, both forgave him. They forgave him completely.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The small island in the Pacific where Dan was stationed was about as far as it is possible to be from New York. The people there look different, talk a different language and live lives that are almost unimaginable to native New Yorkers. Yet Saturday night in both places was in many ways similar.
In both areas, it was a time to blow off steam, to stop the daily routine and go out in search of excitement, fun and sexual companiship. But as frantic as it was in New York, it was even more so on that tiny island.
The servicemen came straight from steaming jungles and a shooting, burning war filled with the screams of people dying. They knew their time could come any day. And because they were so conscious of death they were even more conscious of life.
This feeling took a number of forms. Some men equated life with women and sex and this became the most important part of their Saturday night. Other men found it necessary to forget the war they had just come from and would all too soon have to face again. They had to forget-any way they could. Many got drunks and then went to look for women. Others got drunk and then for some perverse reason, which made sense only to them, went looking for brawls.
There was a main, neon-lighted downtown area on the island. And there another ironic similarity between this spot and New York served as a grim reminder of where the men could have been and, to many of their minds, should have been at that moment. The street was called Broadway.
The street was lined with bars and nightclubs, many featuring an American atmosphere. The shows alternated between rock'n rdll and strip go-go houses. Inside were the B-girls and hostesses who all had their price. Outside, lining the street where it was unlighted, were women and young girls who also had their price.
Dan rode by on patrol and wondered where all the girls came from. It was almost as if every girl on the island was working the streets. Not that he felt contempt for any of them. He had been to them too often himself since being stationed here to be able to afford the luxery of looking down at these people from a distance.
Then, of course, there was also Tamika, his house-keeper-mistress, who was waiting for him right now back at his house on the hill. And there was Jimmy with his black market supply of everything under the sun. No, he couldn't look down at these people.
He rode along in his jeep at about thirty miles an hour. Every once in a while a girl would step out from behind a tree, sometimes a soldier with her. If she was alone, she would offer herself. Every sexual act could be had for a price. Dan remembered the young girl, the very young girl, he had been with. He remembered her on her knees, her mouth open..
Oh man, when will I be able to forget, he thought, forget this, these men, the war and when will I forget Laura? As soon as I get back, I'm going to ask Tamika t omake me a hot bath. When she massages my neck, my back, my whole body, then maybe I'll unwind and relax. Saturday night, the worst night of the week.
Dan's job had little to do with the girls or the black market. His primary concern was to stop brawls, preferably before they started. He often threatened the stockade as punishment but it was just talk. He couldn't see locking a man up on his leave. The men couldn't really see it for themselves either, and the threat stated or just implied by his M. P.'s uniform was enough to sober most of the men up very quickly.
As he drove along, he looked up at the stars so clear in the dark sky. He was sorry he had not told Tamika to have the bath ready when he returned. It would have been more pleasant not to have to wait.
She would do it quickly enough, though. She would do whatever he asked. He was glad he had her even though he knew that she was not so much with him as she was with the house, the clothes he bought her and his permanent and rather prestigious position on the island. Still they got along well and she certainly knew, everything there was to know about the physical acts of love. She was so good, in fact, that many nights when he was with her, he was able to forget Laura. But the memory would return in the clear light of the morning.
He turned up Broadway and saw now that a lot of people were milling about in front of a club called, of all things, the Wild West. There were strip shows there and along with them, frequent brawls. This one seemed to be rough and to have spilled out into the street filling the night with shouting.
Dan pulled up to an abrupt, screeching stop. He handled his long billy-club. "O.K., O.K., break it up! Break it up! It's all over. Go back about your business, break it up."
As usual the men complied with orders from his authority. All of them except one. He was a big man with a Texas accent and he was obviously out for trouble. His face was stamped with a look of cruelty and, on this night, with something else. Dan recognized it immediately. It was something he knew a lot about, something he saw all the time. It was terror.
Dan knew he was going to have trouble. If he acted with any hesitation he was lost for sure, so he strode straight toward the man who, he now saw, was holding a broken bottle.
Dan swung and hit him across his shoulder. The man grunted in pain and came back with the speed of a conditioned reflex and caught Dan along his arm with the bottle, drawing blood.
Dan dropped his stick and the man moved in swinging. Other servicemen from the crowd jumped the big man and subdued him, but not before he had kicked Dan hard enough to break two of his ribs.
When he tried to move, he found that he couldn't. By this time, other M.P.'s had arrived and they called for an ambulance.
At the hospital, Dan found out that some of his internal organs had been damaged by the broken ribs.
"Well," he muttered to himself, "guess you won't be getting that hot bath tonight, after all."
"What was that?" a nearby medic asked him.
"Oh, nothing," he said and repeated what he had thought.
The medic agreed with him and added, "You probably won't be getting that hot bath at all. Not tonight, not ever."
"What? I don't understand."
"Don't look so alarmed, soldier. I meant you won't be taking that bath here but home."
"Home? Why?"
"Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. That's a million dollar wound you got there in action tonight at the Wild West. They'll probably send you home with that. No decoration, but you can understand that, can't you, soldier?"
"I can understand home, that's enough," Dan said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Laura woke up feeling better than she had for months. And she knew the reason why. The night before she had skipped a session with Frankie and Noreen. Instead of going home with them, she had left the club before they did and checked into a hotel.
For the first time in, she couldn't remember how long, she had slept without tossing and turning, without bad dreams, and without waking up in the middle of the night, her body clammy with sweat. Before going out for breakfast, she took a shower, but it was almost as if she didn't really need it, she already felt so refreshed and so clean.
After breakfast, she walked down Fifth Avenue, looking as much at the other weekend strollers as she did in all the windows. The sun was out and the sky was a cloudless, clear blue.
She walked the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. The merry-go-round in her mind had slowed down long enough for her to do some serious thinking and come to a number of conclusions about herself.
When she reported for work that night, she greeted everybody by name and she was smiling.
Noreen and Frankie were sitting together and both bolted up as soon as she walked in. Noreen came running over to her, a look of concern on her face.
"Laura, where were you last night?" Noreen asked. "I was worried sick. I thought, well, it doesn't matter what I thought. Where were you?"
Laura smiled. "I was alright. I was fine. I checked into a hotel."
"Alone?"
"Yes, of course," she laughed.
"But why? I mean, I know, but why?"
"To do some clear thinking for a change, to see where I was going, to see lot's of things and get them straight in my mind."
"And did you?"
"Yes. Can't you tell?"
"I think so. I think I can. You're cutting out, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Just then Frankie walked over. He had heard the last few things said. "What's this about your leaving? You can't leave. Where would you go? What would you do?" he asked, his tone -edged with contempt.
Laura faced him directly. It was going to be easier than she thought. "I'll go anywhere, to another apartment. And I'll do anything, like work in the daytime as a secretary or even a clerk. I'M get by," she answered, assurance in her voice.
"You won't have any problem," Noreen said. "And if you need anything, you can count on me."
"That's a laugh," Frankie said, although for the first time he seemed a little shaken by all of this. "You gonna turn square and work nine to five, like all the other robots?"
"Yes," Laura smiled.
"No, you won't. Once you've tasted what's happening on this side, on my side, you can't go back. It won't be enough for you."
"It will be more than enough. This, with you, wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And I'll add something else. The way you are, you aren't enough. Start looking around for some new talent." And Laura walked past him as if he were invisible.
Frankie just stood there and watched her walk away and disappear behind the door to the dressing room. Noreen started to laugh. He turned to her. "You think it's over, just like that? You don't know me, either." And he walked back to the entrance to the club, a smile on his face, as he welcomed two couples and suggested a table up front so they could see the dancer better.
During that night, while she danced in her cage, Laura caught Frankie staring at her often. She always smiled and he turned away.
She had told everyone that this night would be her last and she seemed so happy that everyone there, with the exception of Frankie, was glad for her. They each passed the word along that as soon as four a.m. came and all the people left, they would hold a surprise going-away party for her. They already had the champagne but they had to send out a call to a nearby all-night bakery for a lange, rich cake. They even had the bakery inscribe something on the icing.
They got Noreen to keep Laura from walking downstairs to the dressing room until the last customers finally closed the door behind themselves.
"One minute, Laura," Noreen said. "What about your clothes?"
"Oh, don't worry, I'll pick them up during the day. I guess tomorrow."
"But what about money, until you find something?"
"I've got some saved. Don't worry."
"Enough?"
"Yes, enough to last me about a month."
"Well, if you need any more, you know you can depend on me."
"Yes, I do know, but...." But every time Laura tried to go to get dressed Noreen would say something quickly to stop her. Finally, everyone walked over to her. The band started playing for some reason unknown to everybody, "Happy Birthday."
Laura just stood there with her mouth open. She had never expected anything like this. Dick brought out a tray of long stemmed glasses filled with champaign. And of all people, Sal walked out with the cake, causing everyone to laugh. On top of it, where one candle was stuck in the center, it read, "To Laura, Best Wishes From All Of Us." She blew out the candle and tried to make a short speech but she couldn't. They all laughed and began to eat the cake.
It was a good party but it ended all too soon for everyone. Later when she went to get dressed, Laura came face to face with Frankie.
He smiled, "So you're really serious about all this leaving crap?"
"Yes, I am."
He smiled and moved forward. He grabbed her and pulling her toward him, pressed his lips to hers, just like the first time. She tried to push him back but he was too strong. His hands moved on her, touched her where he knew she would respond.
"Frankie, don't."
But he kept on, and she felt her own struggle growing weaker, felt herself growing excited. He whispered into her ear how it was going to be different. He would inscribe the ankle-bracelet. They would move in together and he would leave Noreen.
And she felt herself weaking. She was responding to his touch, growing excited, kissing him back, hoping he would take her right there, willing again to do anything for him.
The merry-go-round was starting up again to whirl around. He touched her breasts, her hips, the insides of her thighs.
"Oh Frankie, I can't.. Please.. Oh.."
I can't fall back into all this, she thought, but it was happening anyway. And the things he's telling me. I don't want to believe but.. Finally, with her last effort of will, she bit his lip, drawing blood, and pushed him back.
But he only smiled. He wiped the blood away with his hand, "I like that," he said. "Now let's see if you can do any better." And he started to walk toward her.
"I can do better, Frankie, try me," said a voice from behind them. Frankie turned. It was Sal.
"This isn't your affair," Frankie said, backing away.
"Sure it is, Frankie. Don't you remember, I brought Laura out her cake? Now I'm looking out for her."
"Wait, Sal, you're talking crazy. Wait.."
But that was all Frankie had a chance to say before Sal moved in on him, swinging his huge fists. In a few minutes it was over. Frankie lay, bleeding, bruised, his eye swollen, his nose, his straight, delicate aquiline nose broken. It was all over.
Laura felt a little sorry for him, but it seemed to be the last push she needed to break away.
She never saw him again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Dan got home, he already knew what he was going to do. He rested up for a few weeks and then headed for New York. He had to find out what had changed Laura's mind, and he wanted to see her again, at least once more. Then maybe he could have an easier time forgetting.
His mother tried to discourage him but he refused to listen. His mind was made up. He was going.
When he got off fhe bus at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, he went to the last address at which he had written to Laura. The adress was in the Village. It was Noreen's apartment.
It was early in the afternoon and she came to the door groggy with sleep that had just been interrupted. When she understood who it was, she welcomed him in and told him Laura didn't live there anymore but that she knew her new address.
The only thing was, Laura probably wouldn't be home because she worked nine to five now. Noreen suggested that Dan wait there and she brewed up some coffee.
"You know, I'm really glad to see you," Noreen said.
"Why?" Dan called out from the living room. "Because I know how happy Laura will be to see you."
He didn't answer her until she came back into the room with the coffee.
"Why do you think she'll be so happy?" he asked when she sat down.
"What do you mean why? You're her boyfriend, aren't you?"
"Was," he corrected her, "before she got, you know, engaged. She's probably married by now. I don't even really know for certain why I'm here. It's just that I wanted to hear the reasons from her own mouth."
"Wait a minute. Slow down, man. What do you mean engaged? Married? What are you talking about?"
Dan told her about the letters he got from Laura showing less and less concern, and finally the one from his mother about Laura's engagement.
"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. You'll have to take that up with your old lady, but I can tell you a few things. Laura's not married or engaged or anything like that and she missed you a hell of a lot."
"What? But..," and then it all clicked in his mind. Laura wasn't engaged, his mother must have lied. He would have felt angry but he couldn't. He was too busy feeling glad.
When Laura came home from work that day, she saw him standing in the street waiting for her. "Dan, oh Dan," and she ran to greet him.
At first they were a little hesitant with each other but when Dan explained to her what had happened and his reason for not writing and when she explained to him what he already knew, they talked as if the past year had not existed.
But after a while, Laura became aware that the past year had existed. And she knew she would tell Dan everything. She had to, for herself. After dinner, she started to talk, the words spilling out rapidly one after another until the story was finished. She didn't leave out the scenes with Noreen and Frankie, nor that they happened more than once.
He listened to her story without interrupting her. When she was through, she waited for him to talk, consciously afraid that she might have just lost him again after just finding him. She waited.
He looked at her. "I have a lot to tell you myself. But let me tell it my own way. It'll take a little longer for me to tell you than it took you to tell me."
He told her about his army service, about Tamika, about Jimmy, about the island, the girls, the suffering. He told her he knew what loneliness could force people to do, even against themselves. He had been with whores, he had seen pain and most important of all, he had seen abject suffering and death. And there was nothing to forgive. Just as he had done, she listened without interrupting. "It seems," he said, "that I wasn't the only one who went off to war. You did also." He continued, "Look, I have more to say, but first. ." He moved closer to her and kissed her.
Without talking, they got up and walked to her bedroom and slowly, lightly, patiently, removed each other's clothes. He slipped her blouse over her head. She unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. He unzipped her skirt and slid it down over her hips and down her long legs until she could just step out of it. She opened his belt and opened his zipper. He smiled and stopped her. And now each removed his own clothing until the faced each other completely naked.
She winced when she saw the scar on his side where the operation had been and touched it lightly. He bent and put his mouth to her breasts, until he felt her nipples grow taunt. She ran her hands lightly in the hair of his chest, down his sides, on his hips and behind.
He leaned on her and put her down on the bed. She closed her eyes, "Oh Dan, Oh Dan."
"I know," he said, and licked her neck, and then down along her breasts, over her nipples and down her stomach while he stroked her thighs. He went lower with his mouth until Laura was squirming from side to side.
When he stopped and leaned over her, she changed her position and quietly forced him down on his back and licked his body the same as he had done to her. She licked down his chest, tasting his hair, and then down to his stomach, and lower, her tongue wet and enteded, until Dan murmured, "Oh, Laura."
Now they changed positions again, and Dan was over her. He hesitated a second, put his lips to hers, and entered her clean and deep. They rocked together up and down and it was good for both of them. When it was over, he said. "That's what I wanted to tell you. The past is over. The only thing that matters is that we act decently toward each other. The past is over and we have the present."
"And we have the future," Laura added.
"We have a better chance than most," he said.
"We have more than that," she laughed. "Admit it," and she rolled on top of him sticking her tongue into his ear.
"I admit it," he said. "I admit it."
The bandages on Frankie's face came off after a few days and thanks to the services of a good doctor who had reset his nose, he looked exactly as he did before his fateful run-in with Sal. All that time, he didn't work but lived with and was supported by Noreen. A few more weeks and the lines of the operation and those hollows that had formed around his eyes as a result all disappeared.
Frankie looked in the mirror and flashed his usual grin. Yes, he was as good as he ever was. It was time to get back into action.
While he had been living with Noreen, he had not left the apartment. It was because of his vanity. He had not wanted anyone to see him in his new condition. But now all that was over.
He walked outside and it was good to once again feel the fresh air on his face. He walked down the crowded streets and stared at all the young, pretty girls who passed, locking eyes for an instant with each one. Yes, it was good to be back again.
Noreen, he knew, was a little unhappy when his bandages came off. She had liked the way things had been between them while he had been in hiding in her apartment.
Every night, she cooked a meal for both of them before going to work. When she got up in the morning, she cleaned, vacuumed the rug, dusted, even washed his clothes. It had been comfortable for her.
But not for him. He watched her acting like a wife around the house and cursed Sal for making him stay in this kind of relationship. Sal had caused the whole thing, that bastard, he thought.
Not that Frankie had made any plans to get Sal back. No, he figured if he went up against the big ape again, he would get more than his nose broken. He might get both his arms, his legs and his head broken. No, that incident was over. He resolved not to mention it and just to stay out of Sal's way in the future.
Of course, if a situation ever came up when Frankie would have the opportunity to pay back Sal, he would take it. Provided, that is, that there was no physical danger to Frankie involved if something should go wrong. He consoled himself with the thought that he was a lover not a fighter and that his battlefield was not the street but the bedroom.
When he went back to the club to work, he simply ignored Sal, even when the bouncer laughed at him and made jeering remarks. After a while, the laughter and the remarks both stopped, and Sal lost, interest in Frankie completely.
"You're a punk, just like those two and I wouldn't waste my breath. I wouldn't even spit on ya," Sal had said, pointing to Dick and Bob. And that nad ended it.
Frankie didn't know which bothered him more, Sal's jeers and taunts or his new indifference. But he had other things to think about.
Laura was gone and the time had come to find a replacement for her. And he still wanted Dale. Imagine being the-first guy to make her dig guys, he thought. That would be a kick. Even more than a kick that would be an accomplishment.
He knew that Dale wouldn't come if he asked her her but he also knew that Dale was more vulnerable now than she ever had been before. For one thing, she actually missed Laura and for another, she seemed to be having trouble at home with that dyke roommate of hers. The third factor in his favor was the one he was most happy with: Dale had always liked Noreen, but Noreen had never felt any inclination to respond to Dale. Noreen liked men too much to be very interested in women and Dale had long ago given up on her.
When Frankie brought up the subject, Noreen flew into a rage. "You perverted bastard, find somebody else to be your pimp, not me," she screamed.
Frankie just smiled. He knew that Noreen missed the little circuses involving herself, Frankie and Laura. He knew once you started something like that and got involved with it, you got used to it. You wanted and even needed it. It was hard to go back.
He also knew he could talk Noreen, for all her supposed hardness and knowledge and sophistication, into just about anything. It would be harder and take longer than it would with Laura but he knew in the end, he would win.
He started out by not going to bed with her when she wanted to, by not taking any pains to do any of the things she liked, by staying away, by saying one thing and doing another; in short, by being more of a bastard than he had ever been before.
She tried to stop seeing him, to stop asking him, to stop needing him, but she couldn't. He was too much a part of her. His sexuality had conditioned her body to his, her past love for him had left scars and wounds only he could heal. Her loneliness could only be dispelled by his presence. He was in her blood and she was caught.
He worked on her all the time, bending her will to his, little by little.
"Tonight I want you to use your mouth on me first and then afterwards we'll do it straight, maybe."
And then it was "Tomorrow we'll do it straight. Or whenever I feel like it."
"Bitch, can't you do anything right?"
"I'll see you in a week."
"Can't make it tonight, got a date."
"We'd better stop seeing each other for a while."
"Maybe for good. You don't move me anymore."
Until she gave in. And now it was her turn to start working on Dale. Each night she showed a little more interest in Dale. Then sometimes, she would show none, drawing Dale in, then pushing her off, then drawing her in closer.
Noreen knew this game well. It was exactly the same one Frankie used on her and now she was using it on Dale. The surprising thing was, it felt good to be on the other end for once, the controlling, dominating end. It was good to feel powerful and strong after feeling so weak. The harder Frankie applied the pressure to her, the harder she applied it to Dale.
Just as Noreen was powerless before Frankie, so now Dale found herself powerless before Noreen. It was a vicious chain of command. Frankie saw Noreen using his techniques on Dale and this added still another element to the game. He enjoyed playing teacher as well as General. The greater the number of perverse elements in the game, the more pleasure he derived from the contest.
Actually it was easier than Noreen thought it would be to finally talk Dale into joining the group and once more making it a threesome.
Two nights later Dale came to Noreen's house. She liked it when Noreen touched her but hated the feel of Frankie's hands, of Frankie's erect manhood. But with the help of drugs supplied by Frankie she learned to forget and then later she learned to do just the opposite, to want and to need.
She had taken Laura's place on the merry-go-round and now it turned faster than ever. Frankie, Noreen and Dale whirled around and around, the speed increasing, the sounds getting louder and more piercing. Until the day would come when the whole structure of the ride would beging to shake and finally destroy itself.
In another part of the city, Dan and Laura lay in bed entwined in each other's arms, Dan on top, moving his body into Laura's in a steady rhythm that would end in a shaking, sweating satisfaction for them both. They had caught hold of the brass ring and stepped off the mad, spinning ride together.
