Jamey Halo had been semi-drunk for thirty-six hours; he'd slept in short, fitful catnaps through out the night, interspersing these with bouts of vodka guzzling and angry tear-shedding, all in the aftermath of Susan's phone call. He still couldn't believe it; she loved him and he was certain of it. There was something else… something that had driven her to break off their relationship, but he couldn't, for the life of him, determine what it might be.
Several times he had tried to reach her by phone, but had gotten Nadine who seemed to delight in telling him that her mother didn't want to talk to him. Then, she would turn on her own little undertoned, sultry, come-and-take-me charm, practically throwing herself at him. The luscious little minx, if it wasn't for his feeling toward Susan he'd damn sure stop the itch between those legs of hers… but right at the moment he couldn't afford to take that gamble, not if he ever hoped to win Susan back.
Christ! He couldn't believe it… Susan Sheldon dancing in the casino of the Diamond Dell for Max Bovino! How had that bastard ever gotten to her? It just didn't make sense. With any one else, maybe, but not Susan Sheldon. No… some way, he had forced her into it… blackmailed her… but how, and with what? What could he possibly hold over her head that would make her feel compelled to wiggle bare-assed in front of an audience in his crooked clip joint. Godamn that lousy no good-bastard! If he so much as harmed one beautiful hair on her exquisite head, he'd kill him! He would, damn him… they couldn't hang him any higher for murdering the second… no, the third, than they could for the first.
Oh Christ, what was he thinking of? Damn, he couldn't let himself even brush against such thoughts! It was the stinking booze; it'd stirred up the foul memories in his half-crocked brain, the ugly relics of havoc he had swept into a mental closet and locked away. Jesus, he had to get hold of himself! This would never do!
He shook his head as if to relieve it of the cobwebs glazing his mind. A shower… yeah, that's what he needed. He looked at his watch. Seven-thirty… Let's see… he was supposed to be at the high school at eight or so to watch that provocative little bitch, Nadine, parade her wares in rehearsal. Okay, he'd keep his word, then, he'd catch Susan's stage debut.
Jamey couldn't help but laugh at what he felt was his own humor. Stage debut? More like an audition for an orgy… damn her! Damn her! Damn her!
He jumped to his feet and threw his half-filled glass at the fireplace, listening and watching it shatter into a myriad of tiny pieces. His mind was a torment of aching heart and tortured soul, and he didn't know where to turn. Christ, he loved Susan Sheldon! Something was wrong; she was in trouble and he had to help her! No matter what the cost… he had to help her.
When Nadine spotted him coming down the darkened aisle toward the stage, her heart skipped a beat in her chest. She wished that she was wearing a bikini Mom had bought her for the contest, rather than slacks and a pullover, then he could see how much of a woman she really was. She smiled, and even in the shadows, could see his glistening white teeth smiling back at her.
"What're you grinning at?" Rickie Thompson questioned from the wing where he stood to handle the curtain ropes. He leaned around then, his young, good-looking face blanched slightly as he recognized the handsome figure coming up to the footlights and leaning on the stage. Jamey Halo's countenance was one that he had only to look at, and the blood immediately began to run cold in his veins. He watched silently as Nadine left the others and went forward to squat down before the TV actor.
"Hi," Rickie heard her say and knew that she was smiling warmly. "So you did come. I-I didn't think you would…"
"I told you I'd be here," he said, grinning up at her. "But I thought it was going to be dress rehearsal. Or is it undress?"
Nadine laughed lightly. "I'm glad you came, Jamey. Are… are you going to wait… and take me home?"
"Hey… you're kidding, baby," he laughed. "No, look, I've got something else I've got to do. I just stopped by for a minute…" Rickie sighed heavily in relief. He couldn't imagine anything worse than that… that dude seeing his precious Nadine home… damn him! He ought to tell what he knew about him, that's what he ought to do! If… if only he wasn't so finky scared…! But… but he didn't want to get into trouble… or mixed up in anything.
"I'd… I'd hoped you might wait," Nadine said, dropping her lovely almond-shaped eyes from his grinning face… "Where… what is it you've got to do?"
"Oh, come on, baby," Jamey said, laughing in his inimitable manner, while simultaneously, her youthful, unblemished beauty damned near whipped his breath away. She was almost the replica of her mother… raven hair, striking eyes, fine-boned features and magnificent body. He swallowed tightly.
"I know," she said, a flash of jealousy lighting her dark eyes. "You're going to the Diamond Dell and watch Mom, aren't you?"
Jamey licked at his dry lips. "Yeah… I am," he said, after a moment. "Look… what's wrong, baby? Why's she doing this?"
"Wrong? What'd you mean, wrong?" Nadine replied, tilting her head provocatively. "She's going on the stage, is all… and she's getting a lot more money. Maybe… maybe someday, we'll be a team or something."
"Oh Christ, that's wild, that is," Jamey blurted. "And will you be dancing naked, too?"
"She isn't going to be naked!" Nadine snapped angrily. "She's wearing a costume… something sexy, I imagine, but that's what they want to see, isn't it?" Then, she twisted her mouth into a knowing little half-sneer. "And she's got the figure for it… wouldn't you say, Jamey?"
He knew her words were meant to hurt him, and they did. He backed away and straightened, watched the expression of regret creep over her beautiful young face.
"I-I'm sorry, Jamey… I didn't mean that," she apologized quickly.
"That's okay. Well, I'll see you, kid… and good luck tomorrow night…"
"Jamey, please? You're angry… and I'm sorry," she said, watching his handsome eyes almost desperately. "I-I don't think I could stand you being angry with me…"
Jamey let a slow grin slip over his face. He reached up and patted her thigh affectionately, causing Nadine to experience an exciting tingle rippling through her, while Rickie Thompson felt a loathing sensation ball up in his stomach.
"Keep the faith, baby," Jamey half-whispered to her, winking suggestively. "I'll see you." Nadine straightened slowly, watching his tall, lean figure disappear in the shadows at the back of the auditorium… then, he was gone. She turned slowly, her mind filled with the thoughts of him, and saw Rickie staring at her with rage-filled eyes.
"Well…?" she said, raising her chin high in defiance.
"D-Damnit, Nadine… he better stay away from you! You hear me? He better… or… or I'll tell everything I know about him!"
Silk saw Jamey Halo when he entered the casino. He'd been giving instructions to Ben Quail, a pit-boss, and doubted that the handsome young TV actor had spotted him. The scrawny man with the pitted, hawked face; eased himself over the velvet-covered ropes that centered the four craps tables and moved toward the lounge where Halo had set a direct course. The din of the early evening revelry filled his ears as he decided upon the one attraction that had drawn the welsher to their confines. Certainly, it'd taken some courage, knowing how Max felt about the debt he owed him, which meant that his feeling for Susan Sheldon ran pretty deep.
Silk grinned wryly to himself. He paused in the archway to the lounge and waited, watching Halo climb onto a barstool where Rose O'Fara was going through a light version of her act. As the evening progressed, so would she. Momentarily, he thought of Lily and sniggered to herself. She'd called in sick, but he knew it was the bruises he'd caused on that lush white body of hers. The fucking pig-bitch! Christ, he had only to think of her and his cock rattled in his pants.
"Eight a point… Four, eight a number six, hard way six… Eight's the number… Five, eight a point… Two, snake eyes. Pay the field. Eight's a number… Twelve! Pay the fertile field again… Eight a number… Let 'em roll. Seven. Seven, the loser. Next shooter. Bets down…"
Silk moved inside the lounge, the loud rock and roll music drowning the chant of the stick man. He walked toward a wall house phone and called Max.
Su Lyn! Jesus Christ, Jamey thought, gaping up at her as she writhed and swayed with the powerful rhythm like a veteran, her magnificent body draped in a see-through, gossamery harem-dancer's costume, her voluptuous firm breasts, her slender waist, her navel and the puff of black pubic hair at the "V" of her loins all vaguely visible to him, but it was as if he were straining to see through the heavy mist, and he could hear the "ohs" and "ahs" all around him. Her long black raven hair hung down her back, flailing wildly with the loud beat tempo, and almost immediately he felt his penis stir wildly inside his shorts as she spun about and bent forward until the breathtaking vision of her full, round buttocks drew the sheer material tight and he could see plainly the vale separating them, along with the weight of soft, hair-fringed flesh that hung enticingly at the very juncture of her thighs.
A lump rose in Jamey's throat and stayed there. Her breasts quivered and jogged gently under the sheer material, her nipples poking delicious, darkened embossments, crowning points to a full measure of firm, caressable flesh. He could see the hollows above her hips, the neat tapering away from the breasts to the small, tight belly. When she turned, he sensed his rod move again in his trousers at the sight of her magnificent hollowing bottom that rounded out tauntingly toward the drinking audience, stretching hard against the flimsy covering that clung to it, outlining each sensuous buttock separately. He fixed his eyes on the voluptuous joint of the buttocks, unable to believe, now, that his hands had held them… caressed them.
Christ, it was all unbelievable… that he'd lain on that body, that he'd explored and caressed those breasts… that her tongue had played in his mouth while she herself writhed under him… with his prick between her soft, white thighs… almost, but not quite buried in her tender, untouchable cunt.
His eyes ran hungrily over the fluid curves of her swaying body as if they were hands, endeavoring to feel the flesh simply by looking. He wondered if she saw him, or if the lights blinded her? She seemed to move toward him, waggling her tensing, hollowing buttocks with her back to him, and he watched them move like two eggs rolling together. Subconsciously, he picked up his drink and swallowed half of it… Hell, he couldn't stand it… something had to give!
And then, she was finished and backing off the stage, smiling beautifully at an excited, applauding audience that had actually witnessed nothing in comparison to the lewd acts of the other girls, nothing but a stimulation of desire in their loins for an enticing creature whose Eurasian beauty would remain etched deeply in their minds to bring them back again and again.
Jamey slipped off his stool and moved toward the door that he knew led behind the bar-stage to the girls dressing room. He had to see her… to talk to her… Jesus, he had to!
He found her in a closet-like dressing room of her own. She was alone and smiling at herself proudly in the mirror of the makeup table when he opened the door and walked in. She still wore the harem dancer costume and with the lights from the table behind her, Jamey could see the outline of her curvaceous charms more clearly than when she was on the stage.
"Jamey! What're you doing here?" Susan said, seemingly both surprised and embarrassed as she picked up her peignoir and threw it around her.
He couldn't help but half-sneer at her gesture toward modesty. He said: "A little late for that, isn't it, Susan… oh, it's Su Lyn… I forgot… the China-doll…"
"What do you want?" Susan snapped at him, feeling her cheeks flushing in sudden anger. "If you came to insult me… you've done that. Now, you can leave."
"Not without you," he replied sharply. "If you think I'm going to let you stay here to be ogled by a bunch of drunken lechers, you're mistaken."
"And you're out of your mind, Jamey, if you think you can stop me," she shot back at him. "I told you yesterday the way it was. We can't see anymore of each other. It's no good, Jamey… no good."
"Susan, you love me and you know it!"
"I-I know nothing of the kind!" she stammered. Dear God, she had to get him out of there before he was seen, before Silk Weaver, or some one passed the word to Max. She doubted that there could ever be any explaining to the blind man once his orders were violated. "Please, Jamey, leave now."
"No! Not unless you go with me, damnit!"
"I'm not going with you!" she shouted at him. "Not now… not ever! Don't you understand? I'm-I'm tired of playing nursemaid, Jamey!" She made her beautiful face twist into a near-mocking sneer. "It's a man I want… not a boy… now, get out of here before I call for help!"
Her words stung him like the memorable bite of his father's horse-whip. He stared at her in bitter, mounting rage. The urge to throw himself onto her, rip the sheer covering from her luscious body and rape her until she begged for mercy was almost more than he could bear… but some how, he held himself, feeling his nails gouging into the flesh of his palms as he clenched his hands into hard, whitened fists.
"You… you bitch!" he hissed between his teeth. "You'll be sorry, damn you! You hear, Miss China-doll… more sorry than you ever dreamed…"
He spun on his heels then and was out through the doorway before Susan could speak. She reached out her hand behind him, started to call his name, then realized it was the only way. Tears filled her eyes as she slumped down onto the little straight-back chair.
Dear God, please don't let him hate me… she prayed, a tiny glistening rivulet spilling down her quivering cheek.