“Now why can’t I ever get in a game like that?” Irv cackled. “That’s my kind of game.”
“You’re too old,” Llona told him, not unkindly.
“I’ll show you who’s too old, young lady!” Irv sprang to his feet, upsetting the table. Once again cards and chips went flying every which way.
“Damn!” Nick howled.
“That was my pot!” Elmer protested. “And this is the second time!”
“I’m sorry,” Llona said, backing away from Irv. “I’m sorry!” She turned and fled from the room, barely escaping Irv’s outstretched pinching fingers.
“I think I’ve had enough poker for tonight,” Manny said, feeling a sudden desire. “I’m going to get home to the wife."
“And I’m going to find me a brothel,” Irv cackled.
“But don’t you fellows want to play cards any more?” Elmer asked, close to tears.
“Not tonight, Elmer.” Nick patted his shoulder. “But don’t worry. We’ll play another time.” And next time, he promised himself, I'm going to lock both doors so no naked broad fouls up the fix. Nick thought of all the nights he’d spent in this room alone. No bare-bottomed babe had come bouncing in those nights. Why the hell did she have to pick his poker night, anyway?
The cause of Nick’s mixed feelings was once again wandering the hallways looking for Lansing’s room so that she might retrieve her clothes. Passing an open door, she overheard voices. She shrank back against the wall outside and listened a moment.
“Why’d you push her?” It was the hotel detective speaking.
“I didn’t push her!” Al Wainwright’s voice. Indignant.
“Then why’d she jump?”
“She didn’t jump. I told you, she fell. It was an accident.”
“Were you her lover?”
“Well, no. That is, not yet.”
“But you had ambitions along those lines.”
“Yes. I guess so.”
“But she didn’t want to and you tried to force things and she fought you off and you pushed her out the window. Right?”
“Wrong. I told you, this other girl came in and --”
“The nude?”
“Yes.”
“That nude!” The hotel detective’s voice was vehement. “If I ever get my hands on her! She’s turned this whole damn hotel topsy-turvy. I just wish I had her here right now. I’d—”
Llona didn’t wait to hear what he’d do. She tiptoed past the door and jogged down the hall again. She pulled up in front of yet another door. 507. Llona wasn’t sure, but she was too tired to ponder whether or not she was again remembering the number wrongly. She took a deep breath, turned the knob, and went into the room.
“You came back!” Herbert Lansing put down the half-empty bottle of scotch he’d been suckling and held out his arms to Llona.
She went into them.
Chapter Eleven
Ever since the hotel detective had left, Herbert Lansing had been brooding. Only to me, he told himself, could this have happened. Only I could start out with an armful of luscious call girl and end up with nothing but a bellyful of unsatisfied lust and a pile of empty female clothes.
It figures, he told himself. It was the way it always worked out for him. Starting with getting his braces tangled when he was fourteen years old and right through that back-breaking Yoga bit with the chick in the village; yes, and right through tonight’s fiasco, too; Herbert Lansing told himself moodily that Fate had him marked for a perrenial strike-out king in the sex department.
The brooding depressed him, and this in turn prompted him to break open the bottle of scotch. The more he drank, the more hopeless it all seemed, but that didn’t stop him from drinking. He was really at a low ebb when the door burst open and Llona returned.
And now she was in his arms. He couldn’t believe it. This kind of luck was just too far out of character for him. Still, here she was, and a resurgence of hope filled Herbert’s breast.
“Boy, have I ever been hoping you'd come back," he told her.
“I had to come back for my clothes.” She made a feeble attempt at extricating herself from his embrace.
“Just for your clothes?” Apprehension tinged Herbert’s enthusiasm once again. “Not to finish what we started?”
“I don’t know,” she demurred. “It’s been such a hectic night.”
“But you can’t just leave now. Not before --”
“Maybe another time,” Llona suggested.
“Please.”
“No. Really, I—”
“And I thought you were a pro,” Herbert said bitterly.
“Well, I am.” Llona was stung.
“A pro wouldn't walk out on a client in need.”
“No. I guess not. Is your need really that great?”
“Mammoth.”
“Let me see, Mmm. You really are suffering, aren’t you?”
“Terribly,” Herbert said earnestly. “It’s really just throbbing with anguish.”
“I can see that,” Llona cooed. “You need immediate treatment.”
“It’s urgent.”
“Well, then we’ll just have to do something about it.” Llona stroked the subject under discussion soothingly.
“Then you're not going to leave me in the lurch?”
“No. I have to live up to the ethics of my profession.”
Llona squared her shoulders and held her head high. “In rain, or snow, or sleet, or hail,” she paraphrased, “we deliver for the U. S. male.”
“A very laudible motto,” Herbert observed, tentatively kissing the little pulse at the base of her neck.
“I try to live up to it,” Llona murmured modestly. “But sometimes it isn’t easy. Like tonight, for instance.”
“You poor kid. It has been a rough night for you, hasn’t it?” Herbert stroked her flanks comfortingly.
“Considering that it’s my first night on the job, it sure has been rough,” Llona sighed. “I sure hope every night isn’t going to be like this one.”
“Oh, I’m sure they won’t be. You just got off to a bad start.” .
“I hope you’re right. If I thought they’d all be like tonight, I think I’d just as soon forget the whole thing and stay a virgin.”
Momentarily, Herbert wondered why she had to go and bring that up again. It was ridiculous, of course. And it seemed kind of insulting that she’d think him jerk enough to believe it. “Look,” he told her, “you don’t have to say that. One virgin in this little orgy of ours is enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I really am a virgin,” Herbert admitted. “So I really don’t find it appealing that you should try to convince me that you are. I mean, some men might. I can see that. But not me. I’d rather have a girl with some experience. In my case, that would be much more desirable. So you don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending.” .
“Oh, come on, now.” Herbert was so annoyed that he stopped biting her left ear lobe.
“I mean it. This is really my first time.”
“You mean it’s your first night as a pro,” Herbert said hopefully. “But surely you’ve had some—umm—amateur experience.”
“Not all the way.” Llona looked demurely at the floor.
“You're kidding. You’re putting me on.”
“No. I mean it. You’re my first lover. On or off the job, this is really my first time.”
Herbert looked at her for a long moment. Slowly, he found himself believing her. And with the belief came a reluctance to continue the foreplay upon which he'd so eagerly embarked. “You really are just a kid, aren’t you?” he said slowly.
“I guess so.”
“And this really is your first time with a man?”
“Yes, it is.”
“But why do you want to prostitute yourself?” Herbert asked.
“Why not? I don’t want to go through my whole life without living it. And besides, I need the money.”