Shelton’s delighted laughter boomed out. “Sylvia, my pet… you are beginning to talk shall we say dirty.' Time to get some food into you… Anything special you want?”
“I’ll have what you have.”
“Right. Well, after our little exercise this afternoon, maybe we’d better have some red meat.” He scanned the huge menu. “How about a Chateaubriand for the two of us?”
“Great,” she answered enthusiastically.
“How do you likes your meat?”
“How do you like yours?”
“Charred and blood rare,” Tod said.
“Charred and blood rare is fine with me. I always feel barbarian when I eat raw meat.” She growled playfully and raised her eyebrows suggestively. Then her face collapsed. “No… that’s a lie. I’ve never felt anything. Before you…” She forced a smile. “Anyway, hell, I’m hungry!”… and let’s try a bottle of number twenty four, the pinot noir,” Tod said, finishing his instructions to the Captain who had come over personally to take their order.
Moments later, they both were watching silently as the Captain made a full-scale production out of the Caesar salad. By the time he had finished and handed the salad to the waiter for serving, Sylvia and Tod were ravenous.
Still later, they watched appreciatively as the mammoth Chateaubriand together with its garnish of ten fresh vegetables and mushrooms was presented to them. They dawdled pleasurably over dinner and lingered even longer over coffee and brandy. It was with considerable surprise then that both of them suddenly realized the dining room had emptied of everyone except one or two busboys and their waiter.
Tod glanced down at his watch. “Good God! It’s midnight.”
“I can’t believe it,” Sylvia said, looking at her own wrist watch for confirmation.
Tod signaled for the bill, and when it arrived he peeled off three twenties. The waiter’s eyes widened at the size of the tip; he was practically fawning over them as he pulled out Sylvia’s chair for her.
“An after dinner drink in the bar?” Tod asked.
“That would be nice,” Sylvia replied.
They made their way to the cocktail lounge. In the corner, several people were crowded around a piano bar. Most of the booths were empty, however. Sylvia and Tod slid into one against the far wall.
They sat close together, their legs and thighs pressed together.
When their drinks had been served, Tod asked, “Are you still planning to go ahead with your… plan?”
“Of course,” she replied, almost indignantly. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Just asking.”
“As I told you earlier this evening, I’ve never wanted very much out of life. But I do want to pay Bruce Akron back for everything he’s done and hasn’t done… to me. I hate him. Oh, God! How I hate him. I want revenge. I’m going to get revenge. Whatever the cost.”
“All right. I just wanted to make sure you still felt the same way.” He nodded his head toward the piano bar. “There’s your quarry.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Hunts. She’s the little brunette with the busy hands in the tight purple sheath; he’s the cigar-smoker in the lime-colored blazer. The couple they’re playing kneesies with at the moment are the ones who were on deck earlier tonight before they switched partners.”
Sylvia stared at the men. She felt an immediate sense of dismay and disappointment. Ed Hunt was pot-bellied; if his laughter was any indication, he was coarse as well. The other man was almost a non-entity. The thought of letting those men make love to her was repulsive. She crinkled up her nose, “Yeecckk.”
Shelton smiled. “The best we could do under such short notice. You should have seen the members of the other two clubs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the two women, but just look at those two men.”
Tod agreed with her evaluation. The two females were extremely well-built, both looked like well-oiled high-powered sex machines.
“What about the other two couples in this group?”
Tod shrugged. “A little better. One of the men looks like a professional football player. Big, big man. The other male is shorter than I am. He looks like Jack Lemmon, the actor.”
“That’s something anyway.”
Sylvia continued to watch then she nudged Tod, “Here’s your chance for a really close look at her; she’s coming this way.”
Liz Hunt passed their table, and her hungry glance locked on Shelton’s face and shoulders. Her expression was unfathomable, but she gave off a powerful aura of sensuality that clung to the air even after she had disappeared.
Sylvia stood. “She’s going to the powder room. I think I’ll try to strike up an acquaintance.”
Shelton ordered another drink for himself and had just lit a cigarette four minutes later when Sylvia said rather loudly, “Darling, I want you to meet someone. Liz, this is my husband Tod. Tod, meet Mrs. Liz Hunt.”
Liz put out her hand, and Tod discovered she had an especially strong grip for a woman. “Mr. Shelton… Tod,” her voice purred. “I’m pleased to meet you. Your wife and I were just talking in the powder room. She says you two don’t know anyone in Santa Barbara. This isn’t a town to be alone in… Come on. I want you to meet Ed, my husband. And another couple, too.”
Tod forced himself to look uncertain. “I don’t know… Mrs. Hunt. I… we… don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, nonsense! Come on.” She grabbed him by the arm, and Tod was all too aware of her breasts pushing purposely against his biceps. She led them to the piano bar. Ed Hunt, in the middle of a bawdy story, simply stopped talking when he saw Sylvia. His mouth stayed open, and his cigar slipped from his lips. He looked as if he had wanted to fall on his knees at that moment and bury his face between Sylvia’s thighs. Sylvia’s high color indicated she read the message loud and clear.
Liz held onto Tod’s arm all during the introductions. “Mr. and Mrs. Reem… Sam and Sally… meet Mr. and Mrs. Shelton, Tod and Sylvia. And this… this here… is my husband… Ed.”
“You don’t have to sound so damned proud about it,” Ed Hunt snarled playfully, and then turned his undivided attention back to Sylvia. “My gawd! You are really something,” he said.
Tod, watching his expression, felt a twinge of jealousy and perhaps, anger. He knew if Sylvia were actually his wife, Hunt would get slugged for staring like that.
Sally’s eyes widened in appreciation as she looked at Tod. When she spoke, her voice was almost a growl. “You, sir, are a handsome devil. Where have you been hiding…?”
Her husband paid no attention. He was obviously mentally undressing Sylvia… and he liked what he saw.
Sylvia found herself separated from Tod. Ed Hunt had given her his stool at the piano bar. Now he stood alongside her, surreptitiously’, rubbing his pelvis against her nylon sheathed right leg. On her left, Sam Reem’s cock was stirring to life against her thigh. She could feel it growing through his trousers. She forced herself to think of revenge against Bruce when Hunt casually placed his ham-like hand on her upper thigh; his fingers twitched, and she felt his thick forefinger nudge her pubic area.
Guiltily, she glanced over toward Tod. The two women had flanked him, and even as Sylvia watched, Sally bent over the bar to get a cigarette. The scoop-neck of her dress gaped open and one full, rounded breast was visible. Tod grinned and made some remark and Sally said, “Naughty, naughty.” Liz Hunt laughed uproariously at it.
Sylvia became aware that Ed Hunt was actually trying to finger-fuck her right out here in the open. That’s when she took his hand away. She smiled in what she hoped was a seductive manner to show him she wasn’t too displeased. He guffawed. On her left, Sam’s erection was complete; he looked as if it were actually paining him.
Hunt began telling her a dirty joke about a customer in a Montana whorehouse who insisted on doing it on the windowsill during fifty degree below weather. Ed’s breath smelled like stale cigars and bad booze. She noted his teeth were stained from nicotine. “… All of a sudden, there he is, banging away into her and the window flies up. They fall out, still screwing away, and are frozen solid before they hit the ground. A few minutes later, this drunk is stumbling down the street, and he sees the frozen whore with the frozen guy frozen deep inside her. He goes up to the door and knocks loudly. When the madam comes to the door and asks, Yes? What is it?’ The drunk answers, Excuse me, ma’am… but your sign fell down.”