All the next day, Melissa recounted what Mr. Nagel had said. Her actions had cost Martin his promotion, he would never forgive her, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
When she went to work that afternoon, Anderson explained that modeling assignments were becoming sparse. He was getting somerequests for girls who would pose nude at bachelor parties and could be interested in making a few bucks on the side.
"Not many afternoon dates," he told Melissa. "If you could take an evening call, I could fix you up seven nights a week. Can you do it?"
She had to decline. Martin would never permit her to be gone during an evening. Not without an explanation and she couldn't tell him what she had been doing.
Anderson shuffled his cards.
"There's this thing at the Blue Moon Motel. The guy says he's a freelance photographer, needs a girl to do special modeling for him. Probably skimpy costumes and bikinis and things like that."
She would give it a try. A couple hours posing in bikinis and negligees could earn her thirty dollars. She smoked a cigarette to cover her nervousness while Anderson called the client.
"She's a real nice girl," she heard him say into the phone. "She knows how to handle any situation." He placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned back to her.
"Williams will pay what you ask. Just do whatever it is he wants done."
Williams was younger than she had expected. Thirty-eight, Melissa guessed. He had a camera set up in the motel room.
She didn't like his looks and experienced instant revulsion on viewing his long bushy hair and the mottled beard.
"Nice to have you, baby," he greeted her. "You just follow directions and we'll get along fine."
She eyed the room arrangement, certain that she didn't like that either.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Model, baby. Just take off your clothes and model."
"You mean you want me to model nude?"
"Of course. That's what the magazines are buying now days."
"I don't model nude, especially for pictures."
He feigned surprise. "You must be kidding. A chick with looks like yours is a natural for fuck pictures."
"I don't work for people who use language like that either."
"That's weird!" he blurted. "You got to be kidding! Chicks love to have a man take pictures of their cunt. Especially when some stud is giving her the meat!"
Melissa backed away, turned toward the door.
"You've got the wrong girl!" she snapped back at him. "Me you from Anderson's?" he demanded. Melissa said she was.
"Then clue me in, baby. Why this uptight routine. Mark said you would fuck and that's the reason he sent you. I want a girl who will fuck."
There had been no mention of fucking in the conversation, Melissa was certain. Williams was still pressing her for action.
"I'll give you fifty bucks to fuck you in the ass while I take a picture. What do you say?" "Are you trying to be funny?" "That's the going rate." "No."
"Thirty bucks to suck your cunt. Forty to do it on camera."
"No!"
"All right, fifty bucks to lick your cunt and take a picture. I'll set the time lever and when I get to licking real good, it'll go off."
"Your crazy!"
"Twenty dollars if you suck my cock."
She wasn't getting through to the creep. Melissa said no again, only louder. "No!"
He sighed. "I'll give you five bucks to finger your pussy."
"No!"
"Shit honey, why the big put down? It's good money."
"I'm not interested in your money," Melissa said in growing anger. "If you're looking for a tramp to treat like an animal, go to a massage parlor. They have girls who will do anything for a few bucks."
Williams was getting mad. His eyes were turning glassy.
"Well kiss my ass, you fuckin' little whore!" he bellowed. "What the hell makes you so high and mighty? Your cunt ain't no different than any other cunt. All it takes is a cock to make it happy!"
"Get lost!"
Melissa scuffled for the door. She had decided it was time to leave. As she dashed to her car, his voice screamed after her.
"Fuckin' bitch. You'll get your ass fired for this!"
She didn't stop to call Anderson and tell him what happened.
She had been home about twenty minutes when the phone rang and she knew it was Mark Anderson the moment she said hello.
"Melissa! What happened with Williams? He just called me and is mad as hell! You've lost me a client and a big fee. Why didn't you do what he wanted?"
"Because I didn't like what he wanted, that's why."
"He said you refused to fuck. I want to know why?"
"I don't fuck with creeps like him and besides,it's none of your damn business!"
The voice in her ear was becoming harsh. "My dear young woman," Anderson began. "When you sign a contract with me, you do anything the customer desires, especially fuck!"
"I'm canceling my contract."
"You can't do that."
"Yes, I can," Melissa said firmly. "I won't come in anymore."
"But why? I don't understand."
"Because I don't associate with weirdos and creeps, Mr. Anderson. I choose my friends, especially those who fuck me. Do you understand that?"
Anderson was almost sobbing into the phone. "But his money is good," he wailed. "You could have gotten two hundred dollars for just one picture if you had used your head. Now, he won't ever call me again."
"That's sad," Melissa said.
"I won't be able to use you anymore unless you promise to take care of all my clients."
"Sorry, Mr. Anderson."
Melissa put the phone back on the cradle and mixed herself a drink. She picked up a copy of Playboy.
The centerfold was dog-eared, as if Martin had opened it out often to see all there was to see. It showed a lot of cunt.
The picture was of a blonde with firm round tits, a big smile, blue eyes, a flat stomach and curly hair around her pussy. She was posed so that her cunt was open to the viewer.
That's the only kind of pictures the magazines are buying, Williams had said. She may have been a little harsh with him. She could have let him take a few shots of her. She could have posed standing by the bed, looking over at the camera as if asking if the viewer was ready to fuck her. Then one primping in front of the mirror or even on the bed with her legs spread. All of the poses would have to display her cunt but she didn't find that distasteful. It was the fucking bit that had irritated her.
Martin was unusually quiet when he arrived home and she could see that he was upset. It was obvious he hadn't received the promotion.
His answer to her greeting was a very cold hello. He settled in the living room and immediately buried himself in the afternoon paper.
He was studying the paper's X-rated entertainment page. Melissa knew that Martin liked the live performance theaters more than the porno movies. The movies showed a lot of naked women, many of them fucking or sucking but it wasn't the same, Martin insisted. What he liked was to watch the live girls fuck on stage. It would be a thrill, he had once told her, to be invited on the stage to fuck one of the gorgeous performers as part of the act.
"Sherri Layne's at the Mecca," he announced when she entered the living room. "Would you like to go after dinner?"
"Sherri who?"
"Sherri Layne. She puts on a real wild show."
"The girl who asks men in the audience to come on stage and fuck her?"
"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the in thing at the clubs."
"But they go down in the audience, naked, and let the men feel of them," Melissa said.
"What's wrong with that?" he asked peevishly. "Men like to feel naked women."
"But in front of their dates… and wives?"
"Women like it," he retorted. "If they didn't like it, they wouldn't be there."
He was staring at her, an angry, cold, stare that made her feel ill at ease.
"But do you have to watch while a man and woman fuck each other. Isn't that a little sad?"
"Sad!" he bellowed. "Sad! Sad my ass! It isn't the fucking I see that makes me mad, it's the fucking I don't see!"
Her heart sank within her and she knew he would never forgive her for losing the promotion.
"I'm sorry, Martin," she cried. "I'm sorry you didn't get the it! That's what's bugging me. You know what that means? You let Nagel fuck you so he would change his mind!"
Her world was crashing around her. He was angry and he was accusing her of something she hadn't done but wanted to do.
"Martin, I didn't!" she cried in alarm.
"Then what did you do, Melissa. Did he just suck your cunt? Did he slurp it a little before he stuck his tongue all the way in? I really don't care, Melissa. I'm glad! I'm a vice president now. Isn't that marvelous?"
She couldn't see him because of the tears that welled up into her eyes and she didn't want to listen to any more accusations. She hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Sunday afternoon her other neighbor Janice Humphery came over. Janice was older than Lois, being in her late thirties or early forties. She never went to church on Sunday and could always be depended on to appear for coffee.
She burst into a tirade of pity when she entered the side door into the kitchen.
"My God, woman!" she exploded. "You look a sight! What have you been up to?"
"Nothing," Melissa said. "I just didn't sleep."
Janice was all sympathy. "That's too bad, honey," she gushed. "Ain't your man giving you enough fucking. There ain't nothing like a good piece of cock to make a woman sleep at night."
"It isn't that… " Melissa began but Janice interrupted her.
"I was the same way, honey," she confided with a wave of her hand. "Hank and I wasn't fucking at all after he came back from Europe and I was climbing the wall until Marvin came around. He showed up right when Hank was losing his peter punching." Janice peered at the coffee maker. "Making coffee, honey. I sure could use some."
Melissa put the pot on a gas burner while Janice lunged back into the explanation of Marvin.
"Hank couldn't get a hard-on and his licking my pussy wasn't doing me no favors and I told him if Marvin had a stiff cock to send him around. Now Marvin comes over every Wednesday evening and Hank goes bowling. Marvin and I take a shower, pile into bed and fuck until he is plum worn out. I've slept like a baby ever since."
Melissa met the advice with a smile. Janice's outlook on life was from the level of a beer-hall hooker. Her remedy might be all right for her own problem but not for Melissa. The problem was not one of a shortage of fucking. Right now, she had an oversupply. Everyone she came in contact with wanted her to take off her panties and bend over. She gave Janice a half hearted grin, said she would think about it, poured the coffee and changed the subject. After a few sips, Janice was satisfied she had heard all of the gossip and went home.
Martin showed up at four-twenty. He had been out at the country club, he explained. He had played cards with his friends and had lost another hundred dollars. He remained rather quiet after mentioning the loss to Melissa.
"I was nervous because you were mad at me," he stated as his reason for losing. "My mind was in a fog and I couldn't play worth a damn."
"You didn't sleep here, did you, Martin? There weren't any blankets on the sofa."
He said he hadn't. "I drove around all night. I went out to the club this morning and took a nap in a big chair before the fellows came in to play."
She accepted the answer, but she didn't believe him. His pants weren't wrinkled and his shirt was still clean. "I was hoping you would come to bed," she pouted. "I missed you terribly." She put her arms around his neck and snuggled up to him. "Please don't do it again," she whispered. "I don't care about the money. I can get some if you need it. I want you home with me. I wanted a good fuck last night and you weren't here."
"No problem," Martin said. He kissed her on an ear. "Sandino said he would trust me for anything I lost."
"I'm sure he did," Melissa said, smiling. She snuggled up to him again, pushed her groin up against his. A lump was beginning to form there and that pleased her.
"I'll model for him again, if he wants me to," she whispered. "Now can we have a good fuck so my cunt will quit hurting?"
She thought about Sandino while she undressed and waited for Martin to get his pants off He was an arrogant, forceful man and she debated what she should say when he did call.
It was two o'clock Monday afternoon when the call came and Melissa answered, still undecided as to what to tell Mr. Sandino.
"We're making up a party," his voice drawled. "A few choice friends. We would like you to come over. One of the guests is a buyer and wants to see how the line looks on a model."
"Sounds interesting."
"After you show the things, then we can have our own little party."
"You mean without clothes."
He laughed. "Of course," he said.
She shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.
"Five hundred dollars?"
"To do what?"
"Be nice, baby. Just be nice."
"I'll think about it," Melissa said.
There was a pause as if Sandino was thinking of another means of making the idea more tempting. He sounded more businesslike when he spoke again.
"It's easy money, baby. There will be a lot of influential people here and you can make some good friends. Can you make it?"
Melissa said yes, then bit her lip for saying it. The thought of making another five hundred dollars was very tempting. It might not be so bad. She could lie down, close her eyes and pretend it was Martin fucking her. When it was over, she could take the money and tell Mr. Sandino she was through. That she wouldn't be his call girl any more.