Susan wasn't surprised at her nervousness; in fact, she had expected it. She had spoken to Max Bovino only once before that morning on the telephone, and that had been when she'd served him one evening in the dining room. He customarily took his meals in his apartment and few of the employees on the first-floor ever got to see him. She didn't know if it was the same up in the casino, but imagined that it might be. His operating staff was extremely efficient, everyone answerable to someone else, just as she was subordinate to Mr. Blanchette, the Maitre d', and there seemed little need for any direct contact with his working people by the blind owner.
Susan couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing, not going through channels, but calling him directly the way she had. After all, if her being transferred upstairs didn't materialize, Mr. Blanchette could make things unpleasant for going over his head. Well… it was a little late to be thinking about that now, wasn't it? She'd already made her move… and in five-minutes she was due for their appointment. At least, the big, handsome man had sounded quite receptive, not at all upset that she'd called him; she could only hope and keep her fingers crossed. God knows, she needed the additional money bad enough, with all of her plans for Nadine… and she could hardly make ends meet now, as it was.
She drove the ancient modeled Ford a little faster than she liked to with its smooth tires, speeding along Elmhurst Road toward the out skirts of the city where the old and beautiful three-storied plantation-type structure sat a half-mile back from the highway amidst well-kept, breathtaking grounds of giant elms, maples and weeping willow trees, along with fantastic gardens of flowers and shrubs. It had once been the home of Elliot Thackery Parks, the original settler of Parksburg, and when his last descendant, Anna Marie Parks, had passed away at eighty-seven some two-years before, Max Bovino had managed to acquire the property right out of the hands of the city fathers, who, as rumor had it, intended to establish an historical shrine there.
Susan found herself smiling in thought. It was a wonder the magnificent old place wasn't crawling with the enraged ghosts of its illustrious, one time occupants… the use it had finally come to… with the gambling, drinking, and nude dancing that took place in the casino. She had never actually seen the dancing going on, but she'd heard stories of its outright lewdness from the other waitresses, and she had seen some of the beautiful dancers, such as Lily Vance. Not that she was any prude, and she was well aware that bottomless-topless shows were all the rage even in the beer taverns, but some of the antics, props and performances that supposedly went on in entertainment of Parksburg's elite jet-set was enough to cause any normal girl to blush. Self-consciously, she felt her own cheeks flushing as she brought the Ford to a halt in the parking area, checked her sparse makeup in the rear-view mirror, then hopped out. Maybe it would be just as well if she embarrassed herself more often… it added a little color to her face. She was altogether too white-skinned anyway, she was thinking, as she walked to the side entrance and nervously took the private elevator to Mr. Bovino's apartment.
The enchanting luxury of his secluded and almost impregnable suite near overwhelmed Susan. She had expected to view plush surroundings, but nothing quite so elaborate and splendid. The man they called Silk, an evilly lecherous, smirking individual, who invariably caused a cold clamminess to creep over her whenever she saw him, met her at the door and ushered her inside to a study-like room where the reputedly notorious, blind owner sat in a huge leather chair, with his beautiful and massive seeing-eye dog seated at his feet. Max Bovino was wearing an expensive wine-colored, satin dressing-gown with very little obviously beneath it, the matted greying hair on his powerful chest in plain view above the crossed black lapels of his robe. He wore bedroom slippers, his feet propped on a large ottoman, and she saw his hairy, naked legs almost to his muscular thighs before she caught herself, jerking her eyes up to his handsome, square face that seemed to be gazing off blankly at nothing.
"This is her, Boss… Susan Sheldon," Silk said, his small eyes raking her up and down licentiously.
"Well… how do you do, Susan," Max Bovino greeted in his guttural voice, his chin high and not facing her. "Come over here and sit in this chair near me where we can talk."
"Th-Thank you," Susan managed, astonished and embarrassed at her employer's near-nakedness, as well as frightened by Silk Weaver's salacious little eyes that continued to undress her. Somehow, she folded down onto the edge of the chair that rested by the ottoman, facing the blind man, and she was near enough to reach down and pet Launcelot's great head. This, she did, to the animal's seeming delight. "What a beautiful dog," she said. "What's his name?"
"Sir Launcelot, but we call him Lonny," Max Bovino replied. "He evidently likes you… other wise he would've growled when you petted him."
Susan looked up quickly at the big-man, wondering how he had known that she had touched the animal, and as if he'd anticipated her unasked question, he said: "My hearing, my taste, my touch… all of a blind-man's remaining senses form an alliance and work together to compensate for the loss of his sight." He smiled, showing handsome, square white teeth. "The doctors told me that, Susan… but I figure it to be instinct. Anyway, what can I do for you?"
Silk had walked to a chair dropping into it off to her right, and without looking in his direction, Susan knew that he was still mentally stripping the clothes from her body. She had to steel her self to keep from jumping up and running from the room… then, Max Bovino shifted his muscular body in the chair and from where she sat she could actually see his flaccid genitals, exposed to her shocked eyes beneath the partly opened dressing gown! Good Lord! She had never felt so embarrassed in her life…
"Well…?" Max pressed. "You didn't come here just to pay me a social visit, did you, Susan?" He chuckled. "Not that I don't appreciate pretty visitors, you understand… eh, Silk?"
The scrawny man snickered lewdly. "You bet, Boss… and she's a pretty one, all right… a real China-doll."
Susan stared from one to the other, completely taken aback by their sudden and unexpected remarks. She hardly knew whether to regard them as affrontive or not… the whole unbelievable scene… his sitting there before her exhibiting his naked organs with a seeming unawareness or was he unaware? Where was that alliance of senses he'd just spoken of? And this other slimy creature with his lust-filled eyes and obscene smile.
Dear God… what had she walked into?
"P-Perhaps, I've made a mistake," Susan heard herself say as she got to her feet. "I can find my own way out, Mr. Bovino."
"Just a minute," Max snapped, leaning forward in his chair. "Let's not be in any Godamned rush, Mrs. Sheldon, eh? People who come to see me don't leave until I say so. It isn't polite… if you know what I mean. Okay?"
Momentarily, Susan felt her breath hitch in her throat. Silk had gotten to his feet and walked over behind her… between the door and herself. She had no idea what was happening, but something had suddenly taken a wrong turn. She stared at the blind-man, her lips slightly parted forebodingly. Finally, she managed to say: "I-I don't under understand, Mr. Bovino."
The big-man lay back and once more she could see his large, limp male member hanging down to the cushion of the chair over his hair-covered testicles and she swallowed in red-faced disconcertion.
"You work downstairs in the dining room, don't you?" he questioned.
"Y-Yes, I do."
"How long you been there?"
"Over a year… some fourteen months," she replied, running her tiny tongue over the delicate line of her upper lip habitually.
"Humph… while your husband was still alive, eh? Before he killed himself, that right?" Max tossed at her.
His words bore an acridness that seemed unnecessary to Susan, yet, he'd said nothing wrong. She answered with an affirmative nod of her head, then remembered that he couldn't see. "Y-Yes," she said, "He's only been dead two-months."
"What the hell did he kill himself for?" the blind-man questioned. "Yellow, or something?"
Susan gaped at him in amazed spontaneous rage. "I-I beg your pardon? Lis-Listen to me, Mr. Bovino. I-I didn't come here to be insulted or to have the memory of my husband insulted either!" she spat, tears, clouding her eyes. "Now, if you'll tell this… this creep behind me to get out of my way, I'll leave here…"
Max began to laugh uproariously, and as he laughed, Susan could see his huge flaccid member between his hairy thighs jiggle with the effort. Then, he said: "You hit it right on the head, sweetheart… creep. I like that, Silk." He continued to laugh while the scrawny man's eyes narrowed menacingly. Susan turned to read the hatred there and cringed before them, immediately sorry that she'd lost her self-control. Then, the big-man said: "But you're not going anyplace yet, baby… not 'til you and me finish our business. Now, come back here and sit down… if you want that job."
Once more, Max Bovino lay back in his chair, his crotch completely exposed now, and Susan stared at him in utter disbelief. She had convinced herself that he was entirely aware of his displayed genitals, and perhaps in some obscene way was satisfying a sexual craving, much as any exhibitionist… But if she could get the job… this was the important thing to her… certainly, she'd seen masculine organs in every state they could assume… whatever he was trying to accomplish for himself, sensual or otherwise, she'd be a fool to turn and run. God knows, she needed that job; she had to think of Nadine! Her sweet darling was all that counted… Slowly, she walked back to the chair and seated herself, trying desperately to avert her eyes from his great, limp member.
"A-All right, Mr. Bovino… I'm here," she said evenly. "And, and I'd like to be moved upstairs in the casino to work."
"Hmmm, I see. In what capacity?"
"Cocktail waitress."
"Why?"
"I need the additional money," Susan replied. "I have to make more than a hundred dollars a week, and that's all I can earn in the dining room."
The big-man nodded his head in supposed understanding. "What do the cocktail-girls make?"
"Sometimes, a hundred-and-fifty."
Max Bovino massaged his square chin with a big hand while Susan struggled to keep her level of vision away from his completely exposed loins. For a moment, she thought she heard Silk sniggering behind her, but she didn't dare to turn and see for certain. Let the foul pervert revel in his obscene world, and this lurid man along with him… if she could gain what she'd come for, that's all she wanted…
"How about three-hundred-and fifty a week for starters, Susan?" Max said suddenly. "Does that sound like a figure that might interest you?"
"Wh-What…? Th-Three hundred and…" Susan repeated, his words making no sense what ever to her. "Y-You mean, three-hundred-and-fifty dollars…? Every week?"
"Just for starters, baby," Max said, grinning. "And as you progress, so does the loot."
Something had to be radically wrong. She was certain that she'd heard him correctly, yet, the figure he'd quoted was absolutely too far-fetched for any cocktail waitress.
"Well?"
"I-I… just don't understand, Mr. Bovino…"
He grinned, but he was looking more over her head than at her. "Tell me, baby," he said, "does my cock scare you?"
He might have had Silk Weaver strike her on the head, or the dog attack her… dear God, she was certain that the shock wouldn't have been greater than his words!
"Well… why the hell don't you answer?" he snapped. "Does my bare cock and balls hanging there before your eyes frighten you? Answer me!"
"M-My God! Y-You're sick!" Susan heard her self exclaim, the sound of the lewd words he had used still racing wildly through her brain. "You have to be! Wh-What do you think I am, any way? Some filthy slut off the street that you can drag in here and subject…"
"I didn't drag anybody in here, baby!" Max growled viciously. "Now, you just get that in your little head, eh? You came to me! You're asking the favors! You need the money! Now… Godamn you… I'm going to see that you get it… but you're going to earn it, every dime of it… right downstairs in the casino dancing bare-assed, sweetheart, for all of my high-paying guests… dancing and fucking yourself with the dildos and anything else I can dream up, while the whole Godamned world watches… otherwise," he leaned forward until Susan could see the flecks of enraged spittle at the corners of his mouth, "other wise… I'm going to hang your actor-lover, Jamey Halo, right up by his prick… then, feed that lush-assed daughter of yours to my lieutenant… Mr. Weaver, here! Now, how does that program strike you, baby?"
Susan nearly fell sideways off the chair from the mental force of his unbelievable word-filth, let alone their horrifying meaning. She tried to get to her feet, but her head was reeling… the room spun before her, and faintly, she heard her self cry out as little animalish whimpers seemed to sweep up from the floor and envelope her into darkness.
She might have remained unconscious for five minutes, Susan wasn't certain. But as her senses reached her, she lay unmoving and listened. It began to return and the voices in the room was easier than acknowledging the nausea that was trying to overpower her. She lay deathly still on the davenport where someone had lifted her… probably Silk, and she shuddered at the thought, her eyes closed, her ears wide-open to every syllable they spoke. Dear God, she thought in mounting terror, somehow, she had placed her self and all of her loved-ones in unbelievable danger. But why? Why…?
"Tell me again what she looks like, Silk," Max Bovino's guttural voice came to her. "And tell me good."
"Hell, Boss, she's absolutely a dream. Of course, I ain't seen her naked yet, but she's got the most beautiful face you ever pictured."
"You said there was some oriental strain there," the big-man put in anxiously. "I always went for them Godamned slant-eyes. They say that they're taught how to please a man from the time they learn to walk. Hurry up, tell me, has she got that look?"
"Yeah… shit, like a Goddess or something. Tiny bones in her face and hands, and great big almond-shaped, dark, slanting eyes… skin like white tissue-paper… you can see the tiny blue veins right through it. And long, shiny black hair that hangs almost to her ass, Boss, only she'd got it all piled up on top for working in the dining-room. Christ! Her tits stick right out straight… firm, full ones, too, and I've never seen such legs in my fucking life… I mean, what I can see of 'em… honest, Boss, never! But I could tell you better if you'd let me strip her…"
"No! I told you no, damnit! She'll take her own clothes off!" Max barked. "She'll take 'em off and be Godamned glad to! She'll fuck and suck me and be Godamned glad to! Because she belongs to me, Silk, you understand? In place of these eyes that husband of hers and his brother took from me that night in Boston! Damn little to pay for a man's eyes, but it's the best I can get… she and her daughter… and I intend to have 'em both!"
"What about Halo?" Susan's whirling brain registered Silk Weaver's question as she tried to control her emotions with the sheer panic that was rapidly building inside her. Mother of God… She had to keep her wits! "You want me to take care of him now, Boss?"
"No… I've changed my mind. First, I want to see how she reacts. If she's agreeable… plays along, then, maybe I'll give Halo a break. Hell, I don't need his eighty-five grand; I just don't like a welsher is all. He'll pay eventually… and come back to gamble some more… those suckers always do. But… if she doesn't play ball, then, you go work the TV genius over, and good, you hear?"
"Yeah, Boss. I hear."
Susan could no longer keep her eyes closed, but the full horrible meaning of their dialogue was yet to be inscribed clearly in her fear-stricken mind. She felt the muscles of her stomach tense and a clamminess creep the length of her spine as the blind, ex-mobster said: "You know something, Silk? This doll moves me. I like her sexy voice… and Lonny took to her right away. If… I say, if… she treats me right, well… hell, I might even set her up here with me. She's got class, all right, I can tell 'em when they got class. But I can't imagine how that punk she married ever reached her… Look, how is she, anyway? She ought to be coming around by now."
Susan might have screamed, but she was too frightened and qualmish of stomach to raise a sound. Instead, she looked in wide-eyed trepidation up at the leering, hawk-like face of Silk Weaver.
"Yeah… the little. bird's woke up, Boss," the thin man advised, his small, lecherous eyes crawling over her once more with lust-filled hunger. "Only, she looks like she might've seen a ghost or something…"
"Shut up," the big-man ordered, getting to his feet and tightening his robe about him.
Without looking directly at him, Susan saw Max take hold of Lonny's harness, the trained animal immediately moving erect to guide its master across the room to where she lay near petrified with ever-growing, dreaded fear.
"Get her a brandy," Max said to his lieutenant, standing a few feet off and looking down in her general direction. "So… how long you been awake?"
It seemed an effort to speak, but finally she managed: "I-I don't know."
"You been listening to us talk?"
"N-No…"
"You're lying… but it doesn't make any difference," Max said, gutturally. "How d'you feel?"
"Sick. I must… must've fainted…"
"You did," said Max. Then, to Silk: "Hurry with that brandy."
Slowly, Susan raised up and swung her feet to the floor, her head whirling like a pool of water being sucked down a drain, her stomach a nauseous void of knotted emptiness. For a moment, she feared that she would retch, then Silk brought the brandy and she sipped at it, the amberish liquid burning her mouth and throat as she swallowed… bracing her almost immediately as its warmth spread through her belly, reviving her strength. Her mind raced desperately as she continued to feign weakness.
Dear God in heaven! What kind of a nightmare is this? It can't be happening… it just can't! Nothing makes sense… They're mad… sex perverts… that's it! I've got to get out of here… some way… somehow… get to the police… If only the other man weren't here… I might have a chance with Max Bovino's blindness.
It was probably a useless tactic, Susan thought, looking up at the blind ex-Mafioso, but she'd begun to cling at straws. She said: "Must he stay here? My God, his eyes are like wet eels crawling over me… Please… make him leave."
Max Bovino grinned as he stood very erect, looking off at nothing. "You heard her, Silk, get out."
"But, Boss…?" the pitted-faced one protested, his vicious eyes narrowing savagely and spitting their venomous rage at Susan.
"I said scram! Beat it! Split, damnit!" Max growled. "The doll and I want a little privacy, understand?"
He obeyed, but not before he'd bestowed one last hate-filled grimace in her direction. Then, when they were alone, Max moved forward with Lonny's precise assistance, and seated himself on the davenport beside her, some two-feet separating them.
"I know you heard just about everything we had to say, baby," Max said, matter-of-factly. "The average fainting spell lasts a minute, maybe two, and sometimes three… you laid here for damn near ten. My instincts are wild, doll." He grinned, not unhandsomely. "You listened… and I wanted you to… now, you're going crazy inside, eh? You even figured if I sent Silk away that you might be able to make a break for it. Right?" He chuckled. "Well now… hear me good, Susie-girl… I say one word to Sir Launcelot, here, and he'd be right at your throat. You couldn't get across the room. On the other hand, should you decide to belt me with something, or try any other little trick, I wouldn't have to say that word… he'd tear you apart. Is that all nice and clear?"
Susan shuddered and looked down at the massive animal lying obediently at it's master's feet, while Max's deep, menacing voice quickly shattered her crude plan. Subconsciously, she raised the remainder of the brandy to her lips and drained it, once more, welcoming its reviving warmth in her trembling belly. Dear God… what now?
"Why… why are you doing this to me?" she heard her voice question. "I-I've never hurt you, Mr. Bovino."
"No…" he interrupted. "No, you haven't but your husband's brother did! Luke Sheldon… he took a contract from a man named Gruen Fintzerwold for $5000… not to kill me… that wouldn't been too merciful… but to blind me with a vial of acid, which he did. And that night, sweetheart, your husband, Cal Sheldon, drove the car for him…"
"No! No, you're insane! Cal? My God, he could never do such a thing!" Susan gasped at him and his unbelievable accusations. "He had his faults, but… but, dear God, he'd never take part in such a horrible thing…"
"Shut up and listen!" he barked savagely at her. "You think I'm a fool? Oh no, baby. I know what I'm talking about. There were witnesses-guests in my home who saw and described the attacker as Luke Sheldon, a small time hood; then, there was a little squealer in the Fintzerwold mob whose tongue babbled more and more everytime we broke a finger or toe, then hacked it off with a meat-cleaver. There's something about that particular treatment, doll, that makes a man tell things he never realized he remembered."
"Oh, my… my God!" Susan exclaimed, her stomach revulsing at the mere thought of such horror. "Y-You're a mad man…!"
"And worse!" he added, cutting short her words. "But with damn good reason, baby… the very best in the world…" He raised both hands and pointed toward his eyes, his mouth twisted cruelly. "These!"
Susan stared at him; he hadn't removed his glasses and she hoped he wouldn't. She could only imagine the hideous sight they concealed.
"Now," he went on, "I want you to remember a winter's night in 1954… Boston… you lay in a hospital bed. Think. January 6th… think, baby, think!"
She didn't have to think. The date struck an immediate chord… it was Nadine's birthday! She had lain alone in her pain… Cal had gone somewhere; she, the nurses… no one knew where… then, she had delivered… Twenty-four hours later, he'd dragged her from her bed, his face pale and twisted in a panic that had never seemed to leave him again, and they'd raced through the night while she had held their infant girl tight to her breast… Oh… oh God, no, no, no!
"My instinct tells me that you're convinced at last," said Max in a low, guttural voice. "But now, you're beginning to wonder why you should have to pay for what that lousy bastard you were married to, did. Right?"
"Y-You must believe me, I had no idea," Susan said, her voice hardly audible in her shock. "I-I swear it…"
"Maybe," said Max, unmoved. "I wouldn't know about that… nor do I give a damn. But I've already made one mistake, and I don't intend to make another. When I found Cal Sheldon, I should've taken care of him right then, instead of just sitting here dreaming about all the satisfaction I was going to get out of watching him suffer, once I decided the most painful way to kill him… Now, the bastard's dead… killed himself… cheated me… Maybe, he was even wise to my being after him… I don't know that for sure, either… but I do know this much, baby, you're not going to get away from me… not unless you want your luscious little girl to wind up on the end of Silk Weaver's ugly prick, or your lover-boy, Halo's, balls served up to you on a platter."
Susan stiffened as if she had been submerged in ice-water. Her mouth fell loosely open and her eyes widened in horrified disbelief, his casual use of the foul words and abominable threats knifing through her as she began to realize his appalling, vindictive sincerity and her own helplessness against him. Dear God, she would willingly give her life to protect her baby, and… and yes, even to save Jamey… but…
"Wh-What has Jamey Halo done to you?" she questioned, unsteadily.
"He owes me," Max replied. "Eighty-five grand he lost on my tables and now he's welshing. I always collect what's coming to me, doll… one way or another. Somebody's got to pay. It's the way I was brought up."
"Jamey Halo is just a boy. He's only nineteen, not even legally of age," Susan tried. "You can't hold him to…"
"That's why I'm holding you instead, sweetheart," Max snapped, cutting her short. "Not that I give a damn how old he is; he'll pay, or else… But you see, I know how it is between you and him." He broke into a slow, lewd grin. "Looks like you were educating that cock of his behind your husband's back all the time you were living on his estate."
Susan felt her face flushing in confused, frightened anger. "That's a lie!" she spat. "There's never been anything like that between Jamey and me."
Max Bovino shrugged, still grinning. "Good," he said. "I don't like other men fucking my women anyway."
He went on spewing his foul language, the very sound of the vile words she had hardly, if ever, heard uttered before, sending waves of shocked repulsion racing through her brain; but mostly, was she cringing from his flagrant claim upon her… his woman! Dear God…
"Just a few things I want you to remember," Max Bovino was saying to her, and she found herself listening with fearful attention. "I'll let you go on living where you are until I make up my mind for certain about you. But you'll see no more of that punk, Halo, 'cause if you do, then I'll have to send Silk and a couple of boys to pay him a visit… one that I'm sure he won't forget right away. Meantime, you be nice and I'll let his debt ride awhile… give him a chance to raise the money. Clear?"
"I-I hear you… but…"
"There's no Godamned buts, doll," he snapped, leaning forward angrily. "Not if you know what's good for you and all concerned, eh?" He paused a moment, as if waiting for his warning to sink in, then: "As for your kid… she'll be safe. No one will harm her; I promise that. Besides, she'll win that contest Monday night… and don't rack your brain wondering how I know about it… because I sponsored it," he chuckled. "A little civic promotion goes a long ways in a burg like this. Just take my word for it, your little Nadine will cop all the ribbons, plus the five-grand cash that goes with it… Now… does that please you?"
Susan couldn't help the one elating feeling his last few statements sent through her. Even if the contest was rigged, she didn't care as long as Nadine was the winner… and all of that money… With that she could get her away from here, out of their evil reach! Somehow, she would contact Jamey; he would help!
"Now, for you, my little China-doll," he said, grinning. licentiously, "you're basic function will be to satisfy my sexual needs and wants, eh?"
Susan didn't answer; she couldn't speak; but with every passing second the vague realization that she was trapped was becoming more and more evident to her. It was either she, herself… or both Nadine and Jamey… and undoubtedly her in the end, too. Dear God, what could she do? who could she turn to? There was no one… and she was not fool enough to believe that she could go to the police with such a story. No crime had been committed… not yet… and after, it would be too late…
"Wh-What else do you expect of me?" Susan questioned, hardly believing the sound of her own voice.
Max Bovino smiled delightedly. "You'll dance downstairs in the casino," he said. "You'll be my new star and I'll call you… Su… Su Lyn, the China-doll… yeah, I like that… Su Lyn, the China-doll. But you won't perform any of the fuck stuff… that is, as long's you please me. We'll leave that for the other cunts. You'll just do a nice sexy dance that'll make every male in the joint walk around with a hard on, eh?"
Even with all of the foul and vile things he was saying to her, plus the lascivious performance he expected her to give right in public and before people she knew, Susan couldn't help the near-prurient sensations his deep voice sent through her as he casually spoke the lewd four-letter words and visualized the graphic scene each one depicted in her brain. Good Lord, what was happening to her, anyway? She was actually losing her abhorrence of him! Or was it her baby's future, and both Nadine's and Jamey's safety that she realized she was purchasing with her own body, giving her the courage and strength to go on with it.
"And now, my little lotus-blossom," he said, reaching down and petting Lonny's massive head, "I want to see you… naked." He grinned salaciously. "Kind of an… audition, we'll call it, eh? After all, I can't very well give you top-billing until I see what you look like, now can I?"
Susan gave a little start, his use of the word – forgetting the licentiousness of his, now, lust-filled expression – but, his very use of the word see, surprising her. It also instigated a new confidence that she welcomed within, for in God's holy name, she could never simply undress before him, or any man, except her dead and buried Cal… not with the blas' wantonness she knew he expected. But the fact that he could not see her, she realized, was even going to make this possible.
Slowly, she got to her feet. She was wearing a white blouse and her black waitress skirt. She must think of what she was doing as if she were alone in the room, perhaps at home in her own bedroom… and she was doing it for Nadine… for Jamey. Her slender fingers went to the buttons of her blouse and began to unbutton them. She looked down into the great dog's deep brown eyes that were staring up at her. Max Bovino had not moved, but she knew that he was aware of her every movement.
Suddenly, he said: "Come over here closer, baby… I want to get used to having you near me."
Hesitantly, but forcing herself, Susan responded, moving within his reach. Then, she felt his big hand on her leg beneath her skirt, but only an inch or so above her nylon covered knee. She steeled herself to his touch, visualizing the beautiful face of Nadine in her mind… then, she removed her blouse.
He said in an unbelievable soft, deep voice: "Are you scared?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I-I've never done this for any man before… only Cal, my husband."
She saw his pleased, lusty smile, and the unwanted realization of his handsomeness became more evident. Then, with the tiny galvanic sensations rippled through her once more, and it was almost as if she wished he could see her.
"Can you dance?"
"A little."
"That's all you need. They won't be looking at your ability… only at that luscious body," he said, his tongue slipping out to lick at his lips. "That's the way men are, doll, we like to see our women naked."
"See?" Susan repeated. She couldn't resist the temptation to taunt him. She had stripped to her panties and bra, her hose and shoes, and now she stood before him, hands moving to rest on her full, rounded hips, her pretty mouth twisted cruelly as she stared down at him.
"That's right, doll," he half-hissed, coming slowly to his feet before her, only inches away. "Except with me, I have that alliance of senses remember? I see with my hands…"