Howard Friedman looked at the young, dark haired girl in amazement. "You gotta be kidding!" he half-chuckled, half-snorted. "Pay? Me? Me… pay? Uh-uh, Lady. I never pay for a piece of ass!"
"Well, this could be kind of a treat for you," Denise Temple told him.
"Treat? How?-By blowing a couple of hundred bucks? Yeah, su-u-ure… that's always a big treat!"
"Oh, what are you worried about?" Denise chided mildly. "You're loaded! And who knows… I might be able to give you a lot better time than you get from your amateurs."
"Give," Friedman repeated quickly. "Yeah, that's the right word, Lady. 'Cause that's the only way you and I are going to do anything, is if you're giving it to me!"
Denise eyed him disdainfully. They were sitting in Friedman's custom-built Continental outside the ritzy "show-biz" restaurant and lounge where they'd met.
"What makes you think I'd want to go to bed with you?" the blackhaired girl asked him. "You're as ugly as a wildebeest, and you're probably older than my father! Nah-you're out of your mind, Harvey!"
"It's Howard."
"Whatever," Denise said tonelessly, and opened the door of the car.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Friedman said quickly. "There's a possibility I may be able to do something for you!"
"Good luck, Grandpa," Denise told him, step ping out on the pavement and slamming the door.
"No, I'm serious!" the talent agent called, leaning down so he could see her face. "I'm in show business! I book action for actresses and models here in town. I have contracts with some of the biggest agencies and biggest names in the business!… Seriously!"
Denise stopped and turned back to him after a moment. Her expression was suspicious. "Yeah?… Like who?"
"Well, hell," Friedman said "… Carol Tiegle for one. I've done some work for her… Amanda Trafalgar… Bunny Binford. You've heard of them, haven't you? And Franco Finnelli-the photographer? How about him?"
"Yeah, I've heard of him," Denise replied, bending down with her elbows resting in the Continental's window. "And how do I know you actually know any of these people, or that they know you?"
"Well, I'll tell you what," Friedman said producing a twenty dollar bill and holding it out to her. "Here's cab fare. I just live a little ways from here. You come on over to my place and I'll show you all my pictures and awards and contracts-and everything. If you don't think I'm legit, then just walk out and catch a cab back to your car."
"Contracts… " Denise repeated pointedly.
"Yeah, damn right," Friedman said. "There's hundreds of 'em around there."
"Any chance any of them might be blank?" the dark-haired girl asked delicately.
"That's what I'm telling you, Baby," Friedman replied. "There's plenty of them that're blank… and what name goes on them depends entirely on you."
"Okay," Denise said, taking the twenty from the agent's hand. "I don't think it would hurt to go and take a look."
Thirty minutes later the talent agent was lying on the huge bed in his lavish apartment, naked as a jaybird. His big, veined prick was standing up from its nest of thick, coarse pubic hair, waving at the ceiling. It was as hard as a brickbat, and the large, purple head was shining with a coat of drying saliva, showing clearly where Denise had been sucking him off. Howard Friedman was breathing heavily as he watched the black-haired, 24-year-old girl moving about the foot of the bed.
Denise was naked too. The stark white suntan bands on her soft brown body made Friedman's cock jerk homily as he studied them. He wanted to get his hands back on that plump, meaty ass, to suck hungrily on her pale, jutting nipples. He wanted to get his big, bulging beast rammed deep and hard into that dainty nest of black, close-cropped curls. The agent began flexing his pelvic muscles in again and again, causing his towering tool to buck and sway wildly above his hairy belly.
Denise looked up from what she was doing and smiled admiringly. "You're leaking again, Howard," she said.
"Hey, come on," Friedman urge, "let's forget this shit. I don't need this. Look at this thing… how's it gonna get any more ready than that? I want to drive it in you clear up to your ears!"
"No, now… Howard," the black-haired girl said soothingly, concentrating on what she was doing, "… this is all… part of the treatment… By the time… I'm finished… you'll want to drive that thing… clear through the top of my head!"
She finished the last knot and stood up, testing it with several sturdy yanks. "Okay, Baby… let's see you try to get loose!"
Howard Friedman looked around at the soft, slender white ropes that now bound both wrists and both ankles to their respective brass bedposts. He studied the slim, layered knots that Denise had tied, and pulled at them tentatively. Yeah, there was no doubt this broad had done that crap before! He doubted seriously that these bastards would come loose.
Still, he exploded into a sudden barrage of bucks and heaves, kicking viciously and yanking with all the power in his aging arms, straining the ropes with everything he had and hoping that his goddam bed didn't break. Finally Howard collapsed back onto the mattress in exhaustion, his chest rising and falling like a bellows, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his body. His bounds were all still intact.
He looked at Denise and suddenly felt extremely helpless. Why the fuck had he agreed to this?
"Oh, excellent, Sweetheart," Denise told him, patting one of his large feet. "I believe I've outdone myself this time! And now if you promise not to go away, I need to borrow your phone for a minute."
"Phone?" Friedman croaked, his breath wheezing gustily. "What do you need the phone for?"
But Denise was already gone, skipping gracefully out of the room and heading for the extension in the day room. Friedman frowned uncomfortably. Now why the hell would she do that? Why not just use the telephone right there on his desk, If she was just calling some horny little sidekick to come over and-oh, Christ! he thought. What if this was one of those fucking scams where she called up some thug to come over and ransack the apartment?
Oh, Jesus! He began kicking and twisting against the ropes again, in spite of himself. He knew they weren't going to give way, but he couldn't just lie there an-! In a few seconds he stopped, his whole body aching with muscle fatigue. Oh-Ho, Jesus, he was too old for this! He lay panting helplessly, his body bathed in sweat, his hard-on starting to quickly deflate.
God… damn! the talent agent thought petulantly. Why had he let this silly, little whore talk him into this? Jesus H. Christ! His mind began racing, trying to think just what he had in the apartment that was worth stealing. He didn't keep much in the way of cash or valuables-jewelry, stocks, shit like that. He wasn't a jewelry freak, and things like negotiable securities were either with his broker or in the safety deposit box at the bank. But of course, Christ-if she was working with some goddam nigger, there was all kinds of crap in here that could be pawned. A literal shitload of it! The main problem, though, would be how they were going to get a big pile of crap like that out past the lobby security guard!
And suddenly, thinking that, Howard relaxed measurably. Oh-h-h-h, Christ, he was really getting old! What was wrong with him? He now realized that they had an even bigger problem than that-how the hell were they going to get some scummy-looking nigger up here in the first place? Every visitor that the guards didn't know had to be personally cleared by the tenant of the apartment, that was building policy! And she might have him tied up, but, by God-!
Denise came back into the room, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Who did you call?" Friedman demanded roughly. "What the hell is going on here?"
"Relax, Howard," Denise said. "We're just going to have a three-way party, that's all."
"Yeah? Well, why didn't you say something about it before?"
"Ohh-h-h, Howard," Denise cried in disappointment, a huge pout coming over her face. "You're losing interest in me…!"
She was staring sadly at the huge droop in Friedman's ferocious hard-on. His big cock was now turgid only near the base, and the top four or five inches were slumping back toward the bed, the deflating crown looking like a small, leaky purple balloon.
Friedman glanced down at himself briefly, then said, "Oh, bull-shit! I wanna know who you called!"
"It's an old friend of yours, Howard, to tell you the truth," Denise said, rummaging through her spacious handbag. "Thought the two of you might like to see each other again."
"Old friend?" Friedman repeated, his eyes narrowing. "… Who?"
"Oh, Howard… "
"Well, male or female?" the agent demanded.
"Oh, now, Howard," the girl said, pulling something wispy out of her bag and twisting it tightly around her hand as she approached the bed. "… you're going to spoil the whole surprise… "
"Aw, surprise, my ass!" Friedman snapped, then paused as he noticed the article in her hand. "… What the hell is that?"
"Oh, it's just a little hard-on helper," Denise replied, unfurling a long, flesh-colored nylon stocking and whipping it gently back and forth.
Howard Friedman watched as the young, blackhaired hooker advanced and began trailing the soft, delicate fabric back and forth across his sagging stalk, making small, cooing sounds in her throat. It brought a swift reaction as the talent agent's tender, sensitive cock skin responded to the light, tantalizing stimulation. Blood began pounding through the drooping dong once again, and the softened head swelled and started climbing back toward the ceiling.
When Denise saw the old man's big, ugly pecker start to stiffen and rise again, she shortened up the tail of the stocking and began lashing it quickly back and forth across the hardening shaft. Friedman groaned and lay back, closing his eyes, his breath still whooshing noisily, his body responding in spite of itself to the soft,' teasing stimulation of his fuck-flesh. He felt the energy throbbing back into this thickening prick, and he decided what the hell-maybe he'd been worry for nothing. Maybe the broad wasn't trying to set him up for a ripoff, after all.
"Does that feel good, Baby?" Denise purred at him.
"You know it does, bitch!" Friedman gasped, his hips beginning to wriggle under the cool, gauzy assault of the wispy nylon. "But you'd better telling me who's coming… augh!… coming over or else you'll have a hell of a time getting them in here!"
"Oh, yeah?" Denise asked throatily, working the nylon down to the base of Friedman's nearly erect cock with both hands, sawing it briskly back and forth, then suddenly looping the fabric and taking several quick turns around the upstanding staff. She pulled briefly and sharply at both ends, letting Howard feel the squeeze on his unprotected meat, then did it again, even harder.
Friedman gasped, his hips shrinking against the mattress in response to the bolt of pain in his rod.
"See?" she said gently. "I have the feeling that I could probably persuade you, Howard… but I don't see why we have to be nasty." She returned to a gentle sawing action on his turgid flesh. "So I'll tell you… our visitor is another girl. She's about a year younger than I am… "
"Who is it?" Friedman asked.
"No-ope," Denise said, shaking her head "I'm not going to tell you… But she's got a lot sexier body than I do."
Friedman looked at her. "Where do I know her from? Is she in the-"
The intercom buzzer snored loudly and rudely beside the bed. Denise hopped to her feet and pushed the button for Howard.
"Yeah?" he croaked, staring at the ceiling.
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Friedman," a metallic male voice said; "but there's another young lady down here to see you."
"What's the name?"
"Uh… Denise Temple, Mr. Friedman."
"Oh, Denise Temple, my ass!" Friedman growled,' snatching at his bonds. "Did you check her I.D., Bert?"
Friedman felt Denise's long, sharp nails biting Into his scrotum. "Ooh! Hey-that's okay, Bert! Forget it… send her on up!"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, see, that was foolish, Howard," Denise scolded, leaning forward to inspect the tender skin of his balls. "You got yourself a couple of scratch marks here for nothing…!"
"Shortly thereafter, the doorbell chimed and Denise called brightly, "It's op-pen-n-n-n-n!" Friedman gave her a sharp look; he hadn't realized the little bitch had taken his security off when she went to make the phone call!
He heard the door open and close, heard the other woman come in and move around, taking off her coat and making some other noises. Denise leaned around the doorsill and called a greeting, her naked ass flashing whitely as he watched. He heard the visitor talking quietly to her, but the voice was just an audible blur, too indistinct to recognize or identify.
The talent agent stared curiously as Denise kept her back to him, leaning into the other room and watching what the second girl was doing. He heard a lot of rustling and what sounded like paper being handled and rumpled. Then Denise turned around, her naked breasts and hairy black triangle fully exposed to him, her head still turned to one side as she smiled and extended her hand to the invisible woman, who suddenly stepped around the corner.
"Howard," Denise said cheerfully, "you remember Nikki, don't you?"
Nikki Newman was totally nude as she moved around the corner and waltzed into Howard Friedman's familiar office-bedroom. The talent agent gasped as he saw her, his eyes taking in the long, curly brown hair, the round, white 36-DD breasts, the big brown nipples, lean, flat belly and long, shapely legs as a framework for her neat symmetrical triangle of smoky brown pubic hair. He shrank and jerked at the ropes involuntarily as he watched this ghost come striding out of his past.
Friedman felt a stab of fear. He had never expected to see this broad again-ever-and now here she was, along with a sidekick, while he was lying here like the biggest dumb-ass in the fucking world, trussed up tighter than a Christmas turkey! It was unbelievable, but here he was… and now he was completely at their mercy!
"Su-u-u-u-ure," Nikki said breezily, her eyes digging into Howard's, "Howard remembers me. Don't you, Howard?"
Friedman stared back at her in silence, not sure how to react.
"Su-u-ure," Nikki repeated, striding to the foot of the bed and resting something out of sight on the floor, then leaning over the brassbound footboard. "Howard remembers me. I was another one of the many people Howard fucked," she grated, placing nasty emphasis on the word.
"Remember, Howie, baby? First you fucked me in the mouth-and came-then you fucked me in the cunt-and came-then you fucked me in the ass! Remember, Lover? The big Baja shoot with Franco Finnelli and Amanda Trafalgar? The big Baja shoot that had already been finished more than two fucking months before? And you weren't even the bastard signing it by then, you'd gone around stepping on your dick so much! Oh, yeah, sure, Howard-you remember fucking me in the ass, don't you? Probably got a bigger boot out of that than anything else-right, you slimy bastard?"
The brown-haired girl leaned over the footboard, gripping it hard with both hands, her eyes flashing at Friedman.
"But you didn't cum that time, Howard," she continued fiercely, "… I did! I came close to blowing your fucking head off!… And then I came back from the whole goddam, sorry fucking mess-somehow-and then I came out smelling like a rose! How about that, Howard? Three cums on one ass-fuck-not bad, eh? I'll bet you never did anything like that, did you?
"And now I've got one more. I came back here tonight… with a little help from my very capable, college-graduate friend here… to show you something, you turd-chewer! This is my fourth cum, Howard… four cums out of one sorry fucking in the ass!"
Nikki bent down quickly, her heavy breasts swaying, and stood up holding a large, wide cardboard rectangle. It was plastered with a crowded montage of color photographs, all featuring Nicolle Newman as the subject. As his eyes flicked over the numerous prints, Friedman saw Nikki in a variety of different poses, different outfits, different locales. In some she was wearing ski clothes, sitting on a chair-lift or laughing in the snow on some frosty slope; in others she was at the beach, sprawling languidly among some rocks or with a multicolored ball, her big boobs spilling temptingly out of a series of scanty bathing suits. A lot of them were studio shots involving a full range of sets, poses and composition. And before he had studied them very long at all, Friedman saw the distinctive, flamboyant, subtly artistic style coming through. As he looked quickly, unbelievingly at more and more of them, it was unmistakable. It was incredible! He tried not to believe it, didn't want to believe it, but he had seen too many other examples to be mistaken… this was definitely Franco Finnelli's work!
He raised his eyes to Nikki timidly, unbelievingly, full of hundreds of unanswered questions.
The model sneered triumphantly, tossing the oversized contact sheet aside. "I see I don't have to tell you who took them, Howie, baby," she said flatly, and leaned forward to grip the footboard again. "These are going to be coming out in several magazines in the very near future," she told him coldly. "National magazines, asshole, with all the circulation and exposure in the world! Get it, Howie? I've made it, you slimy; puking worm! I made it in spite of your rotten, backstabbing ass, just as big as I thought I could with you helping me!… You couldn't louse me up now if you pulled every sorry, nowhere little string you ever had in the business, Shithead!"
Nikki left the foot of the bed and came around on Friedman's right side, the side opposite Denise. The agent's eyes followed her closely, his nostrils flaring wide and his breathing quick and shallow.
"I knew you'd see these eventually," she told the spread-eagled old man, "but I just couldn't wait that long, Howard! I wanted to come in here and show them to you now, while I still had the element of surprise… " Nikki looked over at Denise and the two friends smiled at each other. "And speaking of surprises," Nikki said, kneeling on the edge of the bed next to Friedman, "we've still got one more for you, Howie, baby… "
He looked back and forth from one to the other as he felt the mattress dip on Denise's side of the bed, also. The black-haired girl crawled onto the bed on all fours, and reached out to grab his cock. It'd shrunk to the same disturbed, drooping state it had reached a few minutes before. Friedman's sexual arousal had been heavily diluted by Nikki's appearance and performance. Denise squeezed it firmly several times, wringing a stale glob of sperm from the long, dark eye. Then she began a leisurely stroking motion while Nikki's fingers caressed Friedman's hairy belly and right thigh; gently, teasingly, then gradually worked their way down and began tickling his balls.
"You're going to have a real horny party here tonight, Howie, baby," Nikki told the talent agent huskily. "Just the way you'd planned… " Friedman's breath sucked in blissfully as Denise dipped her head and pulled the knob of his stiffening prick into her mouth. Nikki watched her friend's head begin to rise and fall on the shaft of the old man's rapidly lengthening pecker. Howard's arms and legs tugged against the ropes as he reacted to the quirts of pleasure flowing from Denise's mouth into his heavy pussy-splitter.
"Only, you see, Howard… " Nikki continued, her fingernails gently raking the underside of his nut-sac, "it's not going to be quite the way you planned… "
Friedman opened his eyes and looked up at her, loving the way her large, white tits wobbled on her chest as she played with his sperm grenades.
"What… what do you mean?" he breathed.
"I mean, Howard," Nikki said authoritatively, "that things are only going to go so far."
Friedman's big, ugly penis was now standing up thick and stiff and tall as Denise's tight, wet mouth continued to slide up and down on it.
"You've been doing a lot of cumming lately, Howard," Nikki went on. "You came in my mouth, you came in my box-and those are just the ones that I know about. God only sees how much you've been cumming with the other poor, foolish suckers you bring in here!… And let's face it, Howard-this just isn't healthy for an old bastard like you! Too much strain on the heart… too much strain on the old bag… "
A loud, obscene slurping sound from Denise interrupted Nikki's speech. The dark-haired head was pumping up and down on Friedman's prong at a rapid, machinelike pace. The agent was grunting softly and thrusting his hips up at Denise's face in an answering rhythm.
Nikki placed her hand on Denise's bobbing head and said tersely, "Okay, Baby."
The dark-haired girl pulled her mouth off Friedman's cock with one long, slow, final stroke and sat back panting, her mouth smeared with saliva, her tongue flicking sensuously around her lips. Howard bleated in frustration as his horny, throbbing penis was suddenly left naked in the world, stripped of the warm, wet, clinging confines of Denise's sucking throat.
"Hey!" the old man roared in anger. "What the hell're you doing!"
"Now you're getting the idea, Howie, baby," Nikki told him quietly, bending down and gripping his prick at the base. She leaned forward and ran her tongue teasingly over the puckered ridges of skin on the underside of his thick shaft, just below the flared purple head. Then she trailed her tongue upward to the nozzle of the bulging helmet, lapping steadily up and over the eye, until her gaze met Howard's across the top of his rigid, up jutting prong.
"We're going to keep you on the razor's edge of blowing your wad all night, Howie… " Nikki whispered. "And you aren't going to cum one goddam, sonofabitching time!-Wanna bet?"
Friedman started to protest loudly, thrashing angrily back and forth at the ends of his ropes, but Denise swiftly thrust a knee into his chest. Her expression was dark and threatening.
"And if you make very much fucking noise," Nikki added, "we're going to take one of these sheets and stuff it down your throat." She kissed his purple cockhead. "… Get it?"
Then the two girls went gently to work, Denise kissing and biting at Friedman's nipples, Nikki licking her way back down the column of his jerking pecker, on their way to Stage Two of what was going to be the longest night Howard Friedman had ever seen.