"Oooh, make her pay for that, baby!" said his customer. "Don't let her get away with it! But now I must dash back to the bank-I've a board of directors' meeting at four and I'm late already…"
"Wait!" said David; and although refunds were against the policy of the house, David gave this helpful tribune her money back before sending her on her way. And then marched back to his opulent work-room, where he proceeded to pace and roar and fume… Oooooh! That lyin' little sonofabichin' whore with her cute sexy lisp and her silver-blonde cunt and her Goddamned thumb! A blood sucker, that's what she was!.. stringing him along like the rube that he was, getting him so hooked on her he couldn't see straight or even consider saying no to whatever she wanted him to do… getting people to pay to see him in action, and then taking a third of his take as well! She must have thought he was a prize asshole to let that go on all these weeks… and dammit she was right! An ass-lickin' asshole, that's what he'd been… thinking what a glowing honor it was to be employed full time, when all it meant was that she'd wanted to make a fast killing on him. Damn her, she must have known he'd eventually poop out, and no doubt was already planning to replace him with a fresher, hornier victim.
And what was even more infuriating, David still thought about this girl sexually, even though she'd kept him too busy making money for her to have either the time or energy to crawl in bed with her. It was his hunger for her and her way of life that had gotten him into this. He'd wanted to have her and to be like her, and now he couldn't be sure which he'd wanted most. Her juicy-hot body and her outrageous, amoral lifestyle-he'd wanted both, in one big undulating bundle of hedonism. As a result, only one of these desires had materialized: he'd succeeded in becoming the whore she was, but hadn't possessed her body in weeks.
He sensed that she was waiting for him to call it a day, to cash in his nuts and crap out. Oh no, brother, she wouldn't take the initiative and throw him out, not while he still had a few trickling dollars' worth of earning power left between his legs. Sponge him dry, the sex-starved square, and then toss him back to Suburbia!
David agonized and brooded all night long, wakefully gnashing his teeth as he wondered how he could pay that bitch back for all her scheming treachery. But the next morning he arose with a cool and clear-headed plan of attack, deciding, first of all, that he wouldn't confront Valerie with the truth. No, he'd let her think he was still willing to be led to whatever slaughter she had in mind for him. In the meantime, if his plan worked, it would provide him with two just desserts in the very same hour: sweet retribution, plus one last toss in the hay with the Queen of the Big-Time Hookers…
One early afternoon while Valerie was out shopping, David went through her desk, hunting for the alphabetized list of clients he knew she kept there. He found it and studied it carefully. The names had been segregated as to the preferences and perversions of each. Upon locating the Voyeur section, David proceeded to copy down ten names and addresses-five straight men and five gay men. Then, as an afterthought, he decided to add on five lesbians. Fifteen drooling voyeurs, all hungry to see a show. Painstakingly, David wrote out the fifteen personalized invitations. But before mailing them, he went out and had fifteen duplicate keys made to Valerie's apartment, preferring that these hand-picked guests did not make their entrance through her secret switchboard office. This surprise Peekerama was to be a "walk-right-in-just-as-you-are" party, with the promise of something for everybody to be found in the hostess's overworked two-way mirror.
After mailing the invitations, David waited until he was certain they'd been received. Then he telephoned each client and frankly explained the sort of vendetta he had in mind. Since most of them had assumed that he and Valerie had shared in his performance-profits, they felt his plan would be a well-deserved feat of justice, and were overjoyed with the prospect of seeing the impudent Valerie Hudson with her candid panties down. "She's always been too damned high-falutin' for a chippy anyway," said Betsy the bulldike, "so she's had this coming for years!"
To insure sufficient energy for his final blast in the sheets with Valerie, David told both her and Linda that he had a touch of Hongkong flu, and remained at home for two days, resting. Although Linda was happy to see him doubling up on vitamins and wheatgerm, she vaguely wondered who had prescribed all those eggmalteds for his virus.
"Your resistance is low and you've lost weight, dear," she said. "You should really stay home for a week."
"No. Two days should get me back on my feet," he told her; and absently noticed that she seemed to be putting on as much weight as he'd lost. The power of contentment finally reaching her waistline, he decided.
On the third day David awoke with an erection for the first time in weeks and he said a small prayer of thanks, realizing that his battle-plans had been perfectly timed. His vengeful matinee was all set for two that afternoon. While Linda was off somewhere being a social butterfly-thank God she kept so busy! — David telephoned Valerie to tell her he'd never felt better in his life and wanted the chance to prove this to her in person. "How about it, Val?… Wanna help me get my rhythm back?"
Valerie had been quite prepared to drop David and find some hardier talent, for she was now growing eager to lower that final boom on old Wilbur Montclair himself. However, David had been rather a pet, so she decided to give in to his last request and make it one for the road. A little tenderness at the end of these experiments always made it easier to unload a swabbed-out stud. A pity, she thought, for he had been a tasty one while the bloom was still on his foliage. But wow!.. What a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, she thought, already tabulating how much she might be able to extort from the Montclairs.
"All right, doll," she told him on the phone, "well have a sentimental tumble, just you and I. You think you're up to it?"
"Ummm… Up, baby… Up!" He held it up firmly in his hand and heard her appreciative giggles as he hung up the receiver.
As he drove to the city David tried to figure out which he'd most enjoy, the taste of her hot quivering flesh in his mouth again, or the seven hundred and fifty bucks he planned to recoup from the performance.
TWENTY
When David let himself into Valerie's apartment that day she was waiting for him with one of her special THC-cocktails. By now he'd guessed she was in the habit of slipping various aphrodisiacs in his drinks, but he lifted the glass to his lips for a brief sip: then bent and kissed her full on the mouth. "I don't need any of your Asiatic booster-shots today, Val. All I have to do is touch you and I'm loaded for bear!"
She pulled back and gave him a professional appraisal. "Yes. you do look like you've had a slight retread. Poor doll, you've really been paying the price of popularity, haven't you?"
… You can say that again, you vicious little money-grubber, he thought; but slipped an arm about her waist and drew her close again.
Valerie was barefoot and wore nothing but her bulging bra and a pair of tight red capri-pants. Her long silvery hair was brushed back from her forehead and hung in flattering dips and fluffs about her shoulders. She looked exquisite and tormenting and knew it. More than ever now, David fiercely resented her complacent awareness of her powers to excite. She was always so sure that the weapons of her flesh would win her every victory. But today he meant to confiscate all that equipment to win a victory for himself. And oh what a lovely war!
"You look so delicious, I could swallow you alive," he said, burying his face against her bra and inhaling the subtle whorish scents he found there, colognes or talcums or just plain girl-fumes.