Lady Boss (1990)

  On perusing the books, to which she had free access now that she was ensconced in Mickey's quarters, she found out that the cheapo movies were the biggest money-makers Panther had: mostly abroad, where they scored on every level--theaters, cable, home video, and pay-as-you-view T.

  V.

  The cheapos kept Panther in the black.

  The big movies with the star names sometimes made money too. But only sometimes.

  Any idiot knew the film business was a gamble. Sometimes you scored, and sometimes you crapped out. With his cheapos, Mickey had loaded the dice in his favor.

  Lucky decided she had an interesting chal enge ahead of her: How to make movies without exploiting women.

  Hmmm . . . maybe she'd exploit men for a change. Not such a bad idea.

  By the time she got home at night she was wiped out.

  Boogie was waiting for her with a strong drink. She ordered either pizza or Chinese, ate, made a few notes, and immediately fel asleep.

  She'd cal ed Lennie twice. His reception got cooler and cooler. Final y he informed her in an exasperated tone that he didn't care to hear from her unless she told him exactly where she was.

  Fine. If that was the way he wanted it.

  When he found out the truth he was going to be very sorry indeed.

  Grudge Freeport's idea of doing something nice and making everyone happy was not to fart in public. Apart from that little concession to human dignity, he kept right on going.

  Lennie took another week of it. He had Jess and Matt around to keep him calm. When they left, he blew.

  "You know something, Grudge? You're an ass-licking, no-talent, drunken slob. And I'm out of here." He yel ed this one day after Grudge had screwed up yet another scene.

  Grudge took it like a true old-timer. "Fuck off," he said grandly. "Al actors never should have left their mother's tit!"

  Lennie didn't think about the consequences. He packed and flew back to L. A., spent two days alone at the Malibu house, and then took off for New York. He did not go to the apartment he and Lucky shared. He vanished. She knew this because Mickey Stol i threw a fit searching for him..

  "I'l sue the fucking son of a bitch for everything he's got.

  Everything! He's not getting away with this. I've got a crew and actors sitting in Acapulco slapping their dicks! It's costing this studio dearly, and that dumb cocksucker's gonna pay. Oh, is he gonna pay!" Lucky was assigned the awkward task of tracking Lennie Golden down. She perfected a new voice and duly cal ed his current agent and manager. Through secretaries she learned that nobody knew where he was.

  "How about his wife?" Mickey screamed. "Isn't he married to some rich broad with a gangster father?"

  So that's what it got down to. Some rich broad with a gangster father.

  Not Lucky Santangelo, businesswoman supreme. Not Lucky Santangelo, wife and mother.

  Some rich broad with a gangster father. Charming! "I don't know, Mr. Stol i," she said, attempting to remain cool.

  "Find out an' tel 'em we're gonna sue."

  Later in the day, Lucky took great pleasure in informing Mickey that she had indeed reached Lennie Golden's wife.

  "And?" Mickey demanded.

  "I can't repeat what she said, Mr. Stol i." . * "What'd she say?"

  "Uh . . . she said . . . uh . . ."

  "Spit it out for crissakes."

  "She said to tel you you're a pathetic asshole with cottonwool bal s and a black heart."

  Mickey was outraged. "Are you shittin' me?" "I'm sorry, Mr.

  Stol i."

  Mickey made a solemn vow. "As long as I'm here," he said,

  "Lennie Golden'l never work for this friggin' studio again."

  "Quite right," Lucky agreed sympathetical y.

  That night she had Boogie instal a sophisticated bugging system in Mickey's office. Al the better to know exactly what was going on.

  Chapter 31

  Venus Maria had rock-hard thighs on account of her daily workouts with a personal trainer. Her stomach was flat and firm, her arms and shoulders lightly muscled since she'd been regularly using weights. She jogged every day and swam fifty lengths in her private pool. She treated her body as if it were a finely tuned instrument, never letting up on her vigorous schedule. Martin Swanson appreciated every glowing inch. In bed with Venus Maria he felt as if the sex they enjoyed together couldn't get any better--except that every time it did.

  Venus Maria had learned plenty from Manuel, Ryan, and Innes. She'd made it her business to find out the details that turned them on. Ryan had liked their taking showers together. Manuel had wanted her to massage his bal s with a very expensive, highly scented body lotion. Innes was into being tied up with the lightest of silk scarves. The trick was, he'd told her, never to tear your binding.

  Venus Maria had soon discovered what he meant. The exquisite torture of not breaking the silken bonds was excruciating ecstasy. She had saved that particular experience for Martin until she knew the moment was exactly right.

  The night before he returned to New York she took him on a trip to heaven and back. First they dined on sushi and champagne. Then they frolicked in her open-air hot tub overlooking the spectacular Hol ywood view. And final y she led him into her bedroom, flicked off the towel around his waist, and instructed him to lie naked on her four-poster bed while she bound him with fine silk scarveg.

  She knotted the scarves lightly around his wrists, tying them to the bedposts. Then she did the same to his ankles.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, putting up the semblance of a fight.

  of a fight.

  "Relax," she smiled. "Lie back and dream your favorite fantasy."

  "I don't have fantasies."

  "Unlucky you."

  She sat back and admired her work. He was completely helpless as long as he didn't struggle, his excitement already evident.

  Venus Maria smiled. What a turn-on! Martin Swanson--

  Mister New York--at her mercy.

  "This is a chal enge," she announced. "A . Game. You break the scarves and the game is over. If you're a good boy we'l play al night."

  He fel right into it. "What's the penalty?" "Ten thousand bucks a scarf," she said boldly. "High stakes."

  "Can you afford it?"

  He laughed. "Can you?"

  "I'm just the games mistress. I don't have to bet." "Oh, yes, you do. Give me a time limit. If I don't break the ties--say in one hour--I win and you pay." "Two hours an' you got a deal."

  "One and a half."

  "We're not negotiating on a building, Martin."

  His hard-on stayed steady. Bartering was obviously another favorite sport.

  "One hour and three quarters," he said.

  "A deal," she replied. "Goodbye."

  "Goodbye who?"

  "Goodbye, you. I'l be back when I feel like it." "Are you serious?"

  "Never more."

  "C'mon, Venus. What kind of a game is this?"

  "A chal enge. I told you that before. Let's see if you're up to it, Martin." She left the room.

  Talk about a power trip! Little Virginia Venus Maria Sierra from Brooklyn had Martin Swanson--Mr. New York--trussed up and at her mercy.

  With a secret smile she remembered the first time she'd set eyes on him. Ten years ago. 1975. She'd been fifteen years old.

  Occasional y Virginia Venus Maria Sierra was able to get out of the house. It wasn't often, because with four brothers to look after and a demanding father, there was always work to be done. Oh, yeah, she got out of the house to attend school, but that wasn't the same as recreational fun.

  Ron, her next-door neighbor and confidant, was al for encouraging her to escape and accompany him on his many trips to Broadway and Times Square.

  Ron was a few years older than she, and to her, he was incredibly exciting and daring. He was tal and gangly, and a laugh to be with, total y unlike her burly brothers, who were macho men, ful of their own strength and only interested in scoring with any neighborhood girl they c
ould get their hands on. Venus always had a strong suspicion they would try to score with her if given half a chance. She never gave them that chance.

  Whenever she was able, she and Ron would wander around New York having fun. Sometimes they would lurk outside the stage door of one of the big Broadway shows waiting for the stars to emerge. Ron kept an autograph book and persuaded her to do the same. It was interesting to see which stars would stop and sign their names, and which celebrities would sweep past, climb into their limousines, and ride off into the night.

  "Glamorous, isn't it?" Ron would say with a smile. And Virginia Venus Maria would nod in total agreement.

  "I'm going to be a dancer," Ron confided.

  "How are you going to train for that?" she asked. "Who's going to put up the money?"

  Ron said he was going to try for an audition at the School of Performing Arts.

  "How do you get to do that?" Virginia Venus Maria asked curiously.

  "Talent," Ron replied.

  One Saturday afternoon they were walking down Park Avenue when they saw a crowd gathered outside a church.

  "It's a wedding!" Ron said excitedly. "I love weddings, don't you?"

  Virginia Venus Maria nodded vigorously.

  "Brides always look so gorgeous," Ron exclaimed.

  Virginia Venus Maria nodded again, thinking that she never looked gorgeous. She had straight brown hair and a pretty face, but there was nothing special about her, much to her chagrin.

  They joined the crowd outside the church, watched and waited. And when the happy couple emerged, Virginia Venus Maria set eyes on Martin Swanson for the first time.

  She stood back in awe and watched him. He was handsome in a way she didn't believe. He was handsome straight off the pages of a glossy magazine. He had sandy-colored hair, ful lips, and a ready smile for the photographers. He wore a morning suit and a bright red carnation.

  Virginia Venus Maria glanced quickly at his bride, a pale and wil owy redhead in an expensive white lace gown. They looked like a fairy-tale couple. They looked as if they came from another world.

  "Who are they?" Virginia Venus Maria asked Ron.

  "Rich," Ron replied. "And that's what we're gonna be some day."

  The next morning she saw the bridegroom's picture in the paper, along with his new wife. His name was Martin Swanson. Property tycoon. Now married to the beautiful Deena Akveld, a Dutch society woman. For some unknown reason Virginia Venus Maria clipped the newspaper photograph, stashing it beneath her underwear in her dresser drawer. The picture seemed to represent a fantasy world, and yet it was a world that one day she wanted to be part of And why not? Virginia Venus Maria had ambition.

  Martin Swanson's image stayed with her over the years.

  She read about him, fol owed his activities, watched him on television, and read even more about him in the gossip columns. Then one day she final y met him.

  Of course, by the time she met him she was Venus Maria, the Venus Maria, and she pretended she had no idea who he was. Cooper Turner introduced them. The Cooper Turner.

  Martin smiled that special bul shit smile of his and flirted outrageously. She looked around to see if his wife was present, but the cool y beautiful Deena appeared to have taken the night of.

  When Martin sent her flowers the next day she was delighted. And when he turned up in Los Angeles a few weeks later, even more so.

  By this time she'd found out more about him, having questioned Cooper relentlessly.

  Cooper was amused. "Have you got a hot spot for Martin?"

  he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

  "Why? Would it bother you if I did?" she retorted.

  "I don't know," Cooper said. "I thought I was going to be your golden boy."

  Venus Maria laughed. "Cooper, you're everyone's golden boy!"

  "And you think Martin is a virgin ?"

  "I just think he's . . . fascinating."

  Cooper looked at her for a long moment. "I may as wel tel you," he said, "Martin's had a. lot of girlfriends. A lot of beautiful, talented girlfriends. And he always goes back to Deena. No question. Deena is in his life to stay."

  "Only as long as he wants her to," Venus Maria pointed out.

  "You're a determined little thing, huh?"

  "Nobody ever accused me of being shy."

  When Martin telephoned, Venus was not surprised. She invited him to her house. He arrived within the hour. "I'm not going to sleep with you until I know you," she warned him.

  "That might take a couple of years, right?"

  "I feel I know you now," he said. "I've read every press clipping I could find. Why don't you look at my press file?

  Maybe we can save time that way."

  "Are you interested in saving time?"

  "I'm interested in being with a woman like you." Five weeks later they consummated the deal. In the meantime he'd made three trips to the Coast and she'd visited New York twice.

  The flirtation was hot, the anticipation almost better than the act. But the act wasn't bad either. Venus Maria staged a long weekend at a friend's house in Big Sur. She made it a weekend to remember. Scented candles, the best champagne, music, a four-poster bed, and raunchy, unabandoned sex.

  Their affair had been going on for several months and now she wanted it to be more.

  Al she had to do was wait for Martin to leave his wife, get a divorce, and marry her.

  Venus Maria had the uncanny knack of tapping into other people's fantasies--hence the enormous success of her videos. She went for the forbidden and dressed it up as entertainment. She could play any role from little girl lost to voracious sexual superwoman. Her strut was every bit as good as her soft gentle side. She could kick ass or cuddle up with equal aplomb. She could--if she so desired--tailor her act to fit any man's fantasy.

  Martin Swanson said he didn't have fantasies. Bul Shit.

  Martin Swanson was a man. He had fantasies al right. And Venus Maria had figured out the one to real y turn him on--

  that al -time favorite, two girls together.

  But Venus Maria had no plans to appear as one of the girls.

  Group sex did not interest her. She liked her sexual experiences to be between two people. Private and personal and wildly sensuous.

  Martin needed shaking up. He was too stiff-assed, more concerned about his next deal than his sensual pleasure, although, Venus Maria had to admit, she'd already loosened him up considerably.

  Late at night, alone in her bed, alone in Los Angeles, she often wondered if Deena was receiving the benefit of Martin's new experience. He swore he never slept with his wife anymore, but he was a man, and al men lied about sex. Especial y married men. Venus Maria loved Martin.

  She didn't know why. But she did know she had to have.

  Him.

  It wasn't his money, because she had plenty of her own.

  It wasn't his appearance, because although he was an attractive man, he was no Mel Gibson.

  It wasn't his personality, because even when he turned on the charm, he was not exactly Mr. Nice. Love's a bitch, Venus Maria thought bitterly, and hurried to rendezvous with Ron, who had brought two expensive hookers to her house, supplied by his friend Madame Loretta (Ron col ected weird friends--useful on this occasion).

  The girls did not look like whores. One of them resembled a col ege cheerleader--in fact, she'd dressed the part. And the other was a five-foot-tal Oriental girl with shiny jet hair hanging below her ass. Ron grinned. He adored intrigue.

  "Meet Tai and Lemon."

  Venus Maria raised an eyebrow. "Lemon?" "That's me!"

  squeaked the cheerleader. "My real name too! I love your records!"

  That was the trouble with being famous. Everybody knew your business.

  Trying to remain cool and uninvolved, Venus Maria told the girls exactly what she wished them to do, adding somewhat apologetical y, "It's for a friend's birthday, y'know. A special treat."

  "Veree special," interjected Ron, with a sly grin. "Shut
up!"

  whispered Venus Maria.

  The girls were true professionals. They knew exactly what was expected of them. Stripping down to silky undergarments, they produced a lethal-looking vibrator and a bottle of scented oil, and entered the bedroom where Martin Swanson lay waiting.

  Venus Maria estimated he'd been alone for twenty minutes.

  Long enough to drive him a little bit crazy. She hurried to the two-way mirror she'd had special y instal ed.

  "Can I watch too?" Ron begged, fol owing her. "No, you can't," she replied sternly. "Just wait and get these two girls out of here when I'm ready." "Spoilsport!"

  "Since when did you like watching girls?"

  "Oh, I don't care about them. It's himself I wouldn't mind taking a peek at,,"

  "Ron! Behave yourself!"

  Martin was stil tied up when the girls entered the bedroom.

  Determined not to lose the bet, he didn't move.

  Tai and Lemon ignored him as they started in on each other. First they kissed. And then they touched nipples, delicately brushing silk against silk. Breathlessly Venus Maria watched as Martin rose to the occasion.

  Tai undid Lemon's bra, and the pretty blonde's breasts tumbled free, surprisingly large and firm. Martin groaned.

  Tai fixed her mouth onto a welcoming nipple. Martin groaned louder.

  Lemon divested herself of her panties. She had shaved her pubic area, and the skin there was very white.

  Tai's long dark hair swept downward as she bent to kiss between Lemon's legs. Obligingly, Lemon spread wide.

  "Oh, God, Venus!" Martin managed, desperately trying not to move.

  Tai stopped attending to Lemon and unclipped her own bra before stepping out of her panties. Her black bush was forest-thick. Al the better for Lemon to return the favor and bury her blond curls.

  Venus Maria could see Martin was desperate for release.

  His penis stood erect and ready. But stil he didn't break the bonds.

  Tai stepped back from Lemon, took the bottle of oil, and squeezed it over the breasts of both.

  Then Lemon reached for the vibrator, switched it on, and held it to Tai's pubic mound.

  Martin reached orgasm, spurting al over himself.