"Class, baby. You like class? Only way to go." His eyes roamed downward again over her pert breasts. A soft suckling image of a hard red nipple snaked its way through his mind. "The bedroom is over there. Go in and make yourself comfortable. Pour yourself a drink. There's a mini-bar by the bed. I'll be in after I make a couple of phone calls."
Toni stood, her mouth open, at the bedroom door, unable to believe the enormous luxury of it all. A big circular bed with a Spanish wood headboard sat quietly and meticulously made in the center of the room.
Naked in moments, she lay and waited for him. She lay back on the pink pillow and inhaled the brisk air that floated in the open window, riding on an early May breeze that came in over the park. She looked down at her bare thighs…soft, white…and trembling slightly. She reached for her huge handbag, took out a perfume sprayer, opened her legs and felt its breezy spray penetrate just behind the lips of her cunt. She nectared her mouth with a Cloret that stung her tongue, then concentrated on warming her breasts from within. Her body blended into the huge, soft bed. the cold sheets hugging up at her warm, soft ass. She touched the perfume to the undersides of her breasts, and stroked her cunt hair once or twice, determined now. If she was going to be a whore, she was going to be a good one.
Angelo Mantelli, fifty-ish and gray at the temples, stood in the doorway, a hungry frenzy breaking its way out of his smile. A crazed look crept across his Florida-tanned features and a new dark sparkle came alive in his eyes. He sat on the bed beside her, eyeing the sucking-bulbs of meaty breasts, letting his manicured hand lay lightly on the fur of hair between her legs.
It grew moist under the gentle weight of his palm, and Toni tried to smile. He leaned forward and his smooth tongue slid over each hard nipple, savoring his first swallowing taste of her young body. She groaned and he retreated to a gentle nibble of the tip, fervent heat suddenly coming through his suntan at the temples. The taste of a virgin set free a million goose bumps on his arms and shoulders, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
He swirled his tongue upward over the on-fire mounds, exploring, in mouthfuls, licking a flame-path to her neck. She rolled over toward him, feeling his hot cock against her, throbbing inside his pajama bottoms. Her body was warm to the front, against him, and the cool evening breeze from the open window played at her spine, a fresh, clean combination that met somewhere in the dark of Toni's insides, icy-hot. She inhaled deeply and her stomach sank shallow with it.
The telephone in the living room rang and Angelo Mantelli granted himself the satisfaction of a loud, crisp obscenity before pulling himself away from her and going to answer it. Toni caught a glimpse of hundred-dollar bills sticking out of his bathrobe pocket as he walked away from the bed.
Toni thought she heard a groan from the living room, but she paid little attention, looking at her image in the ceiling mirror instead.
Her eyes were like two little ball bearings…and sad, very sad.
Yes, she'd be a whore in just a few moments.
Another groan came from the living room and this time she listened. Then she got up and went to the door and saw it. Angelo Mantelli was on his knees beside the phone. His eyes had lost their brightness. His fat fist was clenched over his heart.
"Omigod!" Toni heard her own voice yell.
Angelo rocked back and forth, groaning dismally, clutching his chest.
"H…help me…" Angelo begged, biting back the trembling of his mouth. "My…heart…it…the pills are over there…"
Then, all at once, the night was rudely shattered by the appalling, sustained scream of sheer mortal terror.
Maybe minutes passed. Maybe an hour. But Angelo was motionless through all of it. His eyes were open and glazed. Everything was so still…devastatingly still.
But Toni wasn't afraid. Strangely…she wasn't afraid. She looked again at Angelo's pale face. She thought of putting a pillow under his head, but what good would that do? The man was dead.
She slowly and carefully dressed. She reached into his bathrobe pocket and withdrew the wad of hundred-dollar bills. There were fifteen of them.
Then she quietly and evenly walked out of the apartment, pushed the elevator button and waited. She counted to twenty-four before the doors opened. Then she descended, walked business-like past the doorman and even smiled at the "good night, Ma'am," that was offered.
Toni didn't go back to her hotel room. The next day she bought a five-hundred-dollar wardrobe, rented an apartment, had her hair done, then went to the offices of Wendy Moore Cosmetics.
"What's she like? Miss Moore, I mean," she asked Gino Lentini.
"Wendy Moore? She's a nutty broad. You'll have to put up with her crazy ideas. But she'll hire you, don't worry. She has to fill the job before she takes off on her selling trip next week."
Chapter 2
And so that is how it came about that Toni went to work for Wendy Moore Cosmetics, Inc., and without realizing it, put her young life in the hands of Wendy Moore-a "nutty broad" as Gino had described her. Toni wasn't to get evidence of that until a few weeks later when…watching from her office window, she saw…
The two girls entered the small, cheap, lower Fifth Avenue hotel room, about eight-thirty this night. One was a redhead, the other a brunette. Both were young, college-girl types, better looking than average; both were well stacked. They had a couple of drinks and sat and talked; then the redhead suddenly sprawled back on the hotel bed. The brunette came over to her and picked up the redhead's hand and began fondling, then kissing it. Soon, she saw beside the redhead and leaned over and kissed her full on the lips, long and lingeringly. Then her hand slid up under the redhead's skirt, moved caressingly there. In a few moments, her other hand gently unbuttoned the top of the redhead's dress, and moved inside. The redhead began to twist, to writhe, torturously. The love play between the two girls continued for several minutes; then the brunette rose and pulled the redhead to her feet with her. She began to undress the redhead, who stood trembling, with her eyes closed, her head thrown back and her long, silky, Titian-red hair flowing softly…
The offices of Wendy Moore, Inc.-Cosmetics, officially closed at five o'clock. But this evening, at nine o'clock, several lights were still on in their small suite of offices in the building across from the hotel on lower Fifth Avenue. One was in the office of Wendy Moore herself. The other was in the office of Gino Lentini, Promotion Manager. Both were working overtime on this hot summer night. Toni had turned off the light in her office minutes before.
Wendy Moore, at 35, was the perfect picture of a Manhattan career woman. Perfectly coifed and groomed, she was a strikingly handsome brunette, with the mature figure of an Italian movie star. The bomb-like mounds of her full breasts filled to bursting the bodice of her smart two hundred dollar dress. The pouting plumpness of her tight, firm buttocks moved provocatively when she walked, outlined subtly by the sheen of the expensive material. Her face was almost perfectly featured, the long-lashed green eyes well set apart, the nose short and straight, the well-rouged mouth full and succulent without being sloppy looking.
At first glance, Wendy Moore was the epitome of sex. But not at the second or third glance. Then one could see the haughty arrogance of her expression-the straight, too perceptive, too observing expression in her intelligent eyes.
There was no time for sex in Wendy's carefully planned scheme. Money. That was the only scheme Wendy Moore understood. Now, this night, after going over the samples of a new line of creams her firm was putting out, Wendy got up from her desk and stretched, then fit a cigarette and strolled to the window. She stood there, looking down onto the street and the sparse flow of traffic through the business area at this time of night.