Her mood changed then. She smiled. Leaned back and then drank from the glass in her hands. “I liked the looks of you the moment I saw you in hubby’s office...” Her voice drifted off.
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” he told her, downing the rest of his drink.
“Let’s not worry about that.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Let’s talk about other things...”
She stood and taking hold of his hand, pulled him after her. They walked through the living room, which was filled with scores of important Hollywood personalities.
She ignored them. A moment later they were walking up a staircase.
“You don’t mind telling me what...”
She turned sparkling eyes in his direction as they entered a long hall-way. “My, my, you are innocent, aren’t you?” she smiled, squeezing his hand.
He didn’t want to think about what must be going through her mind. He was just numb, only following her because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. In a few moments they were in a large bedroom, the door closed and locked.
She turned and slid both arms around his neck. He felt the soft pressure of her body as it blended against his. Her lips caressed his mouth.
He just stood there, too numb to respond. Things were not only happen-ing too fast, they were a little blunt and brazen.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Don’t you like girls?” She looked deep into his eyes. “Or is it just me?”
He gulped nervously, dropping his eyes to the floor. “Let’s just say that I don’t go for shacking up with somebody’s wife.”
She laughed. Her lovely head fell backwards and her lips opened wide; and she laughed.
“You’re kidding. You must be!” She backed away. Then her hands went in back of her and a moment later the dress slid to the floor. She’d been wearing nothing else underneath.
He just gaped at her.
She was just about the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Her breasts large, but rigid and firm. Her waist narrow and slender, spreading out into curving hips and tapering down to full, solid thighs and legs.
“Don’t be a silly child.” She told him, stepping up close and then press-ing against his body. “I want you. That’s all that should matter!”
“Don’t...don’t you think that this is rather sudden?”
A giggle bubbled up through her chest and out past her lips. “I don’t see where you get your square ideas. This is Hollywood! Live, love and have a ball!” She wiggled against him. When he didn’t respond she stepped back a little. “Look, if you’re really serious about…about worrying…just see it my way. Johnny-boy is a big star. Girls fall all over him. And he uses their bodies each and every time he can. He plays around. So, I play around.”
“But why? When he has somebody like you?” Dan gulped, beginning to break down his resistance. His arms were already sliding around her back.
“You know how it is. A woman in hand never is like the one across the street.”
Their lips met passionately. He responded with every ounce of physical energy he had in him.
“See what I mean?” she told him, leading him toward the bed. “Just like the new lover is always better than the old one!”
He slid down next to her a few moments later, and for a long time they locked in a series of meaningful embraces. “You won’t regret this,” she sighed, breathless. “Believe me, you won’t regret it …”
After that neither of them were saying anything. And just before he floated down through the pit of burning, fiery passion, one thought flashed though his mind: it was a gas on Big Shot Actor, Johnny Belfort...the man had turned him down for a movie role, but his wife hired him for a lovers’ role.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when his agent called, that he realized the price that Mrs. Karen Belfort had been willing to pay for the service he had rendered the evening before, or exactly what she had meant when she’d told him that he wouldn’t regret making love to her. As if he could ever regret making love to any woman as beautiful as she was.
The voice was excited and loud in his ears, as his agent told him the news, “Its just like I figured … and have told you—there is always more than one way to make a powerful friend in Hollywood. Apparently you came through with flying colors. Johnny Belfort called and said that he de-cided that you would be perfect for the role...wives do have influence...”
The rest he didn’t hear. After the phone had been hung up, it rang again.
This time it was Karen Belfort. He didn’t have to guess what she would want. He had a few more installments to make for her help in getting him his first big break in movies.
And he was determined to pay, in full!
And here’s another “hot little number” considering its opening state-ment. And one does have to believe what they read, after all. A variation of the previous story, immediately quite obvious! Yet with its differences.
SUDDENLY LUST SUMMER?
It was terribly hot. A heat that broke down from the skies and cracked and dried everything it touched. It squeezed the body into a tired, restless, desiring thing.
That’s the way summer affected Ruth Carlton. It burned her insides to cinders. Her skin crawled in tingling pains. Her muscles felt shaky and even the marrow of her bone seemed to give a heated quiver.
She hated the heat. She hated summer. Summer brought the pain, the agony, and the hurt.
She couldn’t keep her hands off her body. The nerves were raw. They felt cruelly grated. And breathing was so blasted hard. It was a terrible ef-fort that racked her lungs, and expanded her chest, and bobbed the large balls of flesh that danced searchingly there.
But there were no caressing hands, and seeking fingers, no hungry lips.
She shivered convulsively.
Something had to happen. Something had to be done. She needed a man, like ham needed eggs, like cars needed roads, like engines needed gas, like fire needed air.
Quickly she dressed.
She’d get herself a man; she’d get herself a man!
* * * * * * *
Ben Winters liked the hot summer sun. It worked over his body with soothing fingers, pushing oiling sweat from the anxious glands, burning the surface skin to dark brown.
It was a man’s life.
And what a life it was, Ben was on his vacation. And that was a laugh! Vacation from what?
Wine, women and song!
But then, there was nothing like the life of a rich lover. And he lived it up to the fullest.
Women found him all they desired in a man. The corny term tall, dark and handsome fit perfectly. It had been created for him. At least if that wasn’t true, it should be.
Yet, there was a time for everything. And now was a time to rest. Vaca-tion time, in sunny California. It was a relief to be away from grasping, sex-starved females.
Not that he didn’t like them. He loved them; literally!
The trouble with women was that they wanted so much out of him. Money, jewels, apartments, dresses, and then they started trying to get with the serious stuff! And that he just couldn’t take.
He had just run from one marriage-minded sexy little woman in New York. Now he was on an extended vacation, at a lonely stretch of beach, staying in the summer home of a friend of his, Brad Rayberry.
It was a good place. A wonderfully stocked bar. Three bedrooms, living room, play room, and den, with the normal ultra modern convenient fix-tures.
What a life!
“Excuse me,” a silky, low-pitched, feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.
He opened his eyes.
Blue sky. Nothing else.
Was lie dreaming?
“Pardon me?” the voice repeated itself. It came before from behind him.
He turned and looked.
Such a lovely creature! Such a delight to the eyes.
He recoiled violently.
What was wrong with him. Women were the last things he wanted to get involved with.
He was on a vacation!
“What’s wrong?” she smiled, her lips making a sexy twist as they curled up into that delightful, humorous expression.
What a woman!
His eyes could not be stopped from running along the curving lines of her figure. Such hips. Such narrow waist. Such beautiful swells of chest material. Such a revealing bathing suit. She really had it!
She dipped down beside him, and he couldn’t help noticing the luscious crevice between her mountains.
She sighed and trembled slightly.
It shocked him.
He had planned to surprise her. To scare her off. Instead she had come to him with a desperate eagerness; a longing passion.
With a jolting abruptness he jerked away from her.
Rising, he walked toward the house several yards away. Up the steps. Opened the door. Into the living room. Over to the bar. Quickly mixed himself a martini. Drank it down in one gulp.
It hit his stomach. Painfully. Shot through his blood, nerves, muscles, bone, and brain. Numbed him. He mixed another, drank it down in one gulp. Reacted.
What was happening to the world. Women just didn’t come up to strange men and start acting like she had. And not such beautiful women. No questions asked. No answers given. No such woman could exist in real-ity.
Of course she just wasn’t! He had made her up out of his mind.
He had always been looking for the free, sex-starved creature who would come out and offer herself without charge, without strings attached. Without desiring anything except the enjoyment of a loving mate.
But this was just too fantastic to be real.
Downing another drink he moved to the curtained window, pulled aside the shades and looked out across the beach.
She was lying out in the sand.
He blinked.
Shocked.
She had pulled off her bathing suit.
She was lying there, bathing in the hot summer sun, without a thing on.
He had never seen such a body. Such a delight. Such wonderful curves and swells.
Suddenly he didn’t care if she was a dream or not. He didn’t care what it would cost him. He forgot he was on a vacation. He forgot everything except the burning ache in his guts that cried to take her, to walk out there on the sand and reach down and enfold that lovely body in his arms.
Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the passion.
He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all!
He walked out of the room, out of the house, onto the sand, and over to where that naked Goddess waited. There were no words. None were need-ed. They both desired the other. They both knew what was expected. They both took and gave what was necessary.
* * * * * * *
Ruth Carlton walked into the New York office of Brad Rayberry, smil-ing thankfully. She plopped down on the large leather chair that faced the long modern desk.
“Well, Brad, you were right!” she announced happily.
“I told you...knowing Benny,” the heavy set, elderly business tycoon explained.
“Sure thing...thanks for tipping me in on where he was staying. If there ever was a man like him, I never found him. He seemed even grateful for the affair. Grateful that I came, without word, questions, or requests!” she grinned from ear to ear. “What a summer vacation! What a vacation. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t cued me in on Ben. We really made out.”
Brad smiled knowingly. “When you were making such desperate at-tempts to get men, and I knew just what you were looking for, it didn’t take long to lead you in the right direction.”
“And the pay off...” she exclaimed in excitement. “He wants us to meet next summer...Won’t it be delightful...free love!”
This was a story which was written very early in my writing career, be-fore I ever did a novel length manuscript. When the time came to do a book, on assignment, first time around, I desperately searched for some-thing to use to start things out. “Big Dave’s Girl” was what I found in my files and taking the general ideas behind this story, I used that as a frame work for what ultimately was published a number of times, under different versions, from “Hot Cargo” to “The Body Merchants” which can be ob-tained as an ebook or printed from Amazon.com or Wildside Publications.
Soul mates are a standard product of romantic fiction. And here we find two people who meet and fall in love. But the price tag is heavy. It is fluff of a different nature.
Beyond that, there’s a real story behind this story, or, more correctly, ahead of this story. Let me put it another way: I wrote it, I used some of it in a totally different fashion as part of my first novel, and then later offered this original version to the magazine editor who published it. While the story has little to do with the novel, other than some of the words being used in it, what follows stands alone as a totally different creation. (Writers do, sometimes, cannibalize their stories when needed.) So I offer this version of…
BIG DAVE’S GIRL?
“Open up, Flyboy,” a hard, high pitched man’s voice cried through the paneling of the door of Barry Larson’s clingy hotel room.
Joan hugged closer to him, terror filling her eyes. “Oh, God!” she whis-pered. “That’s Tommy, one of Dave’s men. They must have found out—”
“It might just be business...maybe!” But Barry didn’t believe his own words. His gut twisted as he stood up, pulling Joan Withers along after him. He pushed her to the side of the door which would hide her once it had been opened. “Quiet!” he hardly whispered into her ear.
“Come on, Flyboy, open up!”
“Just a second.” He opened the door.
A fist smashed out at him. He staggered backwards. Another fist sank into the pit of his stomach. He doubled over, and a hammer like object fell down on the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor as a scream sound-ed from the blackness which was flooding over him.
He fought for consciousness. He had to keep awake!
He had to get up! Fight!
He struggled with his muscles. He tried to push his body upwards through the black whirlpool in which he had fallen.
Hands reached down and pulled him upright. They were rough, hard, and cruel.
“Come on, Flyboy, you’ll live!” The words were thin and faraway sounding.
The blackness was slowly beginning to lessen.
“Leave him alone, don’t hurt him. It wasn’t his fault...I came here, he had nothing to do with it...” It was Joan’s voice, pleading.
“Shut your damn mouth!” the high pitched male voice rasped. It sound-ed very close to Barry’s ears. “I’ll let Big Dave decide what to do about him...and you! Now help me with your flyboy.”
He felt soft tender hands take hold of him, as the black clouds around his eyes started to open, letting in light and shape. The room was spinning dizzily, and his stomach and head hurt. He felt himself being seated on the bed.
As things slowly started to settle down, he saw a tall ugly man standing before him, a gun in his hands.
“Now listen, Flyboy!” The leering face distorted, as the gunman moved his mouth. “You make one false move and I’ll blast your head in! Got me?”
Barry nodded weakly, trying to appear even groggier than he was.
He could feel Joan’s arms around him, supporting his body upright, in a sitting position.
He tried to think.
The other man was standing before the small desk now, where the hotel phone was sitting. Picking it up, he stared at Barry, pointing his gun toward him. After a second he spoke into the receiver, giving a number.
He was calling Big Dave.
Barry felt his stomach knot in fear and horror. God knew what would happen next. The gangster was neurotic; insane. The man would kill them both.
He had to do something, quick. If he could get away from this man, and then to the airport, their problems would be over.
He could feel Joan trembling next to him. Out of the corner of his eyes he looke
d at her. Fear showed on her face. Her lips were quivering; her eyes were moist and frowning. He squeezed her hand affectionately, hoping it would give her some courage.
“Let me speak to Dave,” Tommy said suddenly. Barry had to do some-thing. But what? The man was too far away to make a sudden rush at.
“Dave, I’ve found Miss Withers...in the Flyboy’s apartment. Yes. Okay. Right…I’ll take care of him. Okay, leave him to you. Both of them. Yes, I’ll watch them.” Hanging up the phone, he turned, his thin loose lips smiling. “Dave don’t like it not at all! He’s coming right over!”
The man walked across the room toward them.
Just a little closer, and I’ll be able to jump you! Barry thought, trying to appear dazed. He let his head hang slightly, and acted as if he were having trouble focusing his eyes.
“Dave’s going to take care of you two, but good! He’ll fix both of you so this won’t happen again. He don’t like his best girl stepping out on him. And he’s got special plan for you, Flyboy…”
The man was close enough.
Barry tensed and leaped upward. He attacked swiftly and efficiently; with a sureness which only years of practice made possible.
The other man reacted with the same speed as Barry; but he was too late. Barry’s fists battered at the other’s face, stomach and neck, while his knee rammed up into the gangster’s groin. The man crumbled to the floor, moaning. Barry kicked at his head, and then picked up the gun that had fallen from the gunman’s hand.
He turned to Joan, taking hold of her arm. “Come on, for God’s sa-ke...let’s get out of here, fast!”
In seconds they were out of the room, minutes later they were on their way to the airport in the car Barry had rented when he arrived in town a few days earlier.
All the way to the airport Barry could feel a horrible knot of fear make his stomach sick. Their chances of escaping before Big Dave got to them, seemed almost nonexistent. But they had to try. The alternative would he to await death.
He looked at Joan, sitting next to him in the car. She was as beautiful as that first night; only last night?
She had on a red dress, the top of which dipped downwards, revealing the soft fullness of her breasts. Her blonde hair was in loose curls on her forehead. Her lips looked moist and velvety; almost childlike: full and red.