She decided to revive him. She bent down and took his limp cock between her hands, kneading it gently back into life. In a moment, it stood stiff and proud once more.
As her lips closed caressingly around the hard and eager prick, the young man's eyes began to flutter. He awoke to find the beautiful young streetwalker nibbling and kissing at his stiff prick.
He forgot the gorilla entirely. He grabbed Lenny by the waist and sat her roughly down onto his prick.
At the somewhat less-than-gorilla-size organ shoved up into her already rejuvenated cunt, Lenny Morgan smiled knowingly.
"It's alright, kid," she whispered secretively. "You know what they say – it's not how long you make it, it's how long you make it long!"
He did all right.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lyle Montagne stared across the table at Boss Carl.
"When do you think she'll wake up, Carl?" he said in a concerned tone.
"Take it easy, baby," the big kink-magnate said with a crooked grin. "It won't be long now, and we found out everything we need to know. She's a prime candidate for the Xylotrope plot."
"It's going to be rough," the movie star said in a grave manner, "don't you think we ought to tell her what it's going to involve?"
"We will, baby – we will – but first I want to put her through one more test. If she's going to fit into our operation, she has to be the best. No questions, no doubts – she has to be the absolute best. I've screened seventy-five girls for this spot and I don't want to make any mistakes."
Lyle Montagne had a worried look. "Carl, don't you think that some of your refugee regulars – maybe the redhead with the horse…"
"No!" Boss Carl cut him off. "There ain't a chance in a million that an ordinary nightclub performer could do the trick. It has to be somebody special; besides, it has to be somebody that the Xylotrope people can't connect with me."
"Remember, we gotta sneak her into the plant without anybody knowin' what's goin' on."
The two men tossed off the last of their stiff drinks and made their way through the crowded Phylogem Club to the back room.
Lenny Morgan was just awakening when the two men came in.
"Hi!" she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Did everything go all right?"
Lyle sat beside her on the couch and took her head into his hands. "It went perfect, baby," he said reverently. "I mean, you were just beautiful." He kissed her almost tenderly on the lips.
Lyle Montagne knew what was in store for her next.
"Okay Trixie," Boss Carl boomed in a businesslike voice, "are you ready for the next test?"
"Another test?" Lenny asked, annoyed. "When do I find out what part I'm trying out for?"
"It won't be long, chickie," Boss Carl answered shortly. "Until then, why you just have to hang on and do your best. I can tell you this, though – the next test is the last."
"Well…" Lenny put her thoughts into words, "that's good to know anyhow."
Boss Carl helped her into her clothes, occasionally letting a rough hand fall where it shouldn't. Then, the three of them left the Phylogem Club and rode toward the East Village in a black limousine.
Lenny noticed that the chauffeur never showed his face, his collar was turned up and he allowed himself only to glance into the rear-view mirror occasionally. It seemed odd, but she made no comment. Boss Carl gave the strange driver his orders through a speaking tube.
"Take us to Louie's," Boss Carl ordered.
The car swerved and sped up a side street. Lenny noticed that the neighborhood was exceptionally run down. She made no comment. It seemed to her that Boss Carl had a lot of contacts in this kind of area – it seemed that he transacted much of his business in the underworld as a matter of fact.
As she had so often been told, Boss Carl was no ordinary businessman.
The limousine finally pulled up in front of a truly notorious looking tenement. Lenny wondered how the rich and influential Lyle Montagne felt about hanging around in this kind of place. In her experience, the only people who lived in this type of shack were either junkies or winos.
Nevertheless, she assented to climb the rickety stairs and enter the dim apartment that Louie – what he was – called home.
It was a miserable hovel, the dingy apartment slandered even further by the lack of housekeeping. Bottles and dirty magazines lay about on the floor everywhere. There was no sign of human life.
"Louie!" Boss Carl yelled. "Where the hell are ya, ya bum?"
They heard a muffled groan from the other room. In a few minutes a sleep-grogged figure appeared wearing pajamas that must have been white at one time – but were now completely grey.
"Okay Louie," there was a very real sense of threat in Boss Carl's voice now, "where's the beast?"
"What?" The man was fat and bald, with a certain confused air that one most often associates with those who imbibe heavily during the daylight hours. "Wha' ya wan' da beest fo'?"
"Don't sweat the reasons, ya drunken bum…" Boss Carl's stem voice seemed to have a marked effect upon the man, "we ain't here to screw around, Louie, we got a live one here."
Louie's hither to bleary eyes became suddenly alert. He swung his gaze quickly toward Lenny. "She's a real looker, Boss, I'll say that. Ya thin' she'll work out?"
"I dunno, Louie – you're the one who'll have to be the judge of that."
Lenny was surprised at this revelation, she could not for the life of her see what this fellow, Louie, had that was of value to the influential Boss Carl. The whole thing somehow excited her. It was so mysterious and unusual. She began to realize that she was involved in something bigger than a simple nightclub act – precisely what that something was still remained a mystery to her.
Louie led them down a set of even more rickety stairs to the basement. It was entered through a heavy locked door. Lenny noted that the door was in poor repair, needing a coat of paint even more than the rest of the tenement house. But she did not expect what was behind that door.
They descended into a large, plush room – almost the size of the main dining room of the Phylogem Club. She gasped as she saw the walls were decorated entirely in thick red velour with gold trimmings and elaborate paintings of an exceptionally erotic nature.
"This," Boss Carl announced to her proudly, "is my private showing room. In here, the true elite of the exotic appreciators seek the ultimate in performance… and, I might say, get their money's worth!"
The three men led the lovely blonde woman to a dais made up of plush red cushions and a large harness arrangement somewhat similar to that used by the redhead in the Phylogem Club.
"Gee!" Lenny exclaimed in awed tones. "This place is really groovy. I mean, I think it's the most fabulous thing that I've ever seen!"
"I'm sure it is, Lenny." Lyle seemed to be by far the kindest of the three men. He smiled at Lenny as though she were a little girl on Christmas morning. "Would you like to work here, young lady?"
"Would I ever!" she exclaimed excitedly, "This would be a dancer's dream!"
Louie nodded in agreement, then slapped his hands together twice. The gesture reminded Lenny of movies she had seen of Arabian princes and their harem girls. She was not surprised to see a bevy of gorgeous women hustling out to do the master's bidding.
"Set it up for number one," Louie ordered.
The girls stared at him as though in disbelief.
The tallest of them and apparently the leader spoke in respectful, but doubting, tones. "You didn't say, NUMBER ONE?"
"That's right, chickie," Boss Carl snapped impatiently. "He said number one."
The tall girl whirled without another word and started to hustle the others around. They seemed to be very well drilled in this exercise, despite their expressed surprise at Louie's request.