Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 08

Jeff grabbed his bag and locked his car. "This is quite a layout," he said.

"Wait until you see the inside," I said. Bette and Sandy walked ahead of us toward the house. I looked at Jeff. "I hope I didn't make a mistake talking you guys into coming out here," I said quietly.

"Well," Jeff replied, "if it gets too rough, we can always leave. But don't sell me short, Jim. I'm not the same guy Louise had to coddle many moons ago. You guys, especially you, Jim, have helped me grow up a whole lot since then!"

God, I hope so, I said silently. I rang the bell.

Carol answered the door. "My goodness, Jim, you're family. You don't have to ring the doorbell."

"Thanks," I said. I made the introductions. Carol wore her thick dark mane brushed to one side, and a stunning brocaded Chinese cheongsam that buttoned in a tight collar around her neck, was snugly fitted to her breast, and reached only to mid thigh. Her abbreviated skirt was slit to her hip. Bette looked at her admiringly. "I love your dress," she said.

"Well," Carol said, "it's practical." She flipped her skirt up to show her auburn bush. "See? Easy access. Sets the tone for the party, don't you think? Leave your bags here," she added, "and come to meet the people."

Sandra and Jeff looked around curiously. We followed her into the living room. This time, she led us on into the recreation room (I smiled inwardly when I reflected on how very appropriate that name was). I glanced at the stage as we walked across the room, and wondered what performance was scheduled for tonight.

The cast of characters was almost the same as the previous party. Sam Benson, Tod's wife -- and my mystery woman -- waved as we walked past. Her blonde hair was piled in an artistically ar ranged jumble. She was wearing an off the shoulder blouse and a short leather skirt.

Corrine was there, too. Her slob of a husband apparently was already staking out his trapline. We introduced the Morrisons. Corrine was dressed a bit more modestly this evening, wearing a short sweater dress about three sizes too small.

I liked Corrine, and my affection for her was probably obvious as I kissed her cheek.

Jane and Blair Harper were there, as were the Rounder twins, Lucy and Mark. Lucy was wearing little girl clothes again tonight; she had her hair in pigtails and bows and wore a tiny pinafore.

After we made the rounds, and while Bette was chatting with a new couple, Carol spoke quietly to me. "Come into the office for a minute, Jim."

Inside, she sat at the desk again, and picked up the folder I had examined on my earlier visit. "Here you are, Jim," she said.

I opened the folder. Neatly stapled to the left hand side was a copy of the Board of Director's minutes authorizing the issuance of 25,000 shares of Satin Corporation common stock to James L. Bromfield. On the right hand side was a stock certificate designat ing me as the owner of 25,000 shares of common stock.

We returned to the party. I saw Bette wave to Alex Sofer across the room. I glanced at Jeff to see what impression this group was making on him.

My misgivings dissolved when I saw the hungry expression on his face. I leaned over, "Take it easy," I said, "there's plenty to go around. Pace yourself." Sandy overheard me, and giggled.

"Hey, bucko!"

I turned and was immediately wrapped in a pair of young freckled arms and kissed firmly on the mouth. Who else but the lovely Irish lass, Bridget Gravell.

She wore a green jump suit that complemented her flaming red hair. It was only partly closed, and her bountiful, freckled breasts almost, but not quite, tumbled free. I introduced her to the Morrisons. "This girl has freckles in places you wouldn't believe," I said, pinching her ass. She slapped at my hand.

"Ah, just for that, me boyo, I'm thinkin' you'll be bringing yourself off before the evenin's over." Then she relented. "Unless I get you first, while you're fresh, of course."

Bette and Sandy laughed at that.

Three couples from the previous week were missing. But Richard and Carmine, the two men I had met at the board meeting a week earlier, were there. We shook hands, and I introduced them to Bette and the Morrisons. Seen again, I was struck by how different they appeared. Richard was short and almost pudgy while Carmine was tall, gaunt and hawk nosed.

Their ladies looked like a pair of expensive call girls. The blonde was named June. Her partner was Jacky. June wore a modish cocktail dress that fit her well and looked expensive. Her thick, blonde hair swung in a long page boy cut.

Jacky was also dressed conservatively. Her dark brown hair was elaborately arranged, like Sam's, to resemble a rumpled bed, which I thought an unintended irony.

When June and I shook hands, she acted as if she was genuinely glad to meet me. Naturally, I thought she had more bounce and sparkle than her friend, and I wondered if she would join in the fun and games later. Bette noticed my interest and smiled.

Looking at the two men, I was reminded that I still wasn't quite sure why I had been summoned to that meeting, but obviously I had served a purpose. I was beginning to think that perhaps Steve had wanted a witness there for some important reason.

It's not uncommon for persons unrelated to the transaction to be asked to witness a signature, or even, as in this case, attend a meeting so they can later testify on oath that so and so said such and such. I could even understand why Steve failed to take me into his confidence. A prior agreement or understanding between us on that particular issue might be used by the opposition in an effort to impeach my testimony.

But it didn't explain why Steve was being so coy after the meeting. Mentally, I shrugged. It would all be clear soon enough. In the meantime, I was at a party where I was supposed to have fun. Jeff quietly took my arm and pulled me to one side. "What's the drill?" he asked. "How come everybody is still dressed?"

"Jeff," I said reprovingly, "where are your manners? Keep your pants on. Things will start happening pretty quick." I saw Bette talking to Sandy, and I assumed she was giving her the same message.

Carol appeared in front of me. "Why don't you and Jeff freshen your drinks? We've got some girl talk to do," she said nodding toward Bette and Sandy.

Jeff and I went into the kitchen. Bridget was pressed into the corner behind the refrigerator by an obviously aroused George McLaran. I thought of going to her rescue, but she spotted me and ducking under George's arm, swung open the refrigerator door. "Tis the least I can do for one of the big bosses," she trilled.

Her zipper had been lowered to her crotch, and her right breast coyly poked through the opening in her jump suit. "I'm sorry if we interrupted anything," I said in a mock sincere voice. McLaran did not look pleased.

The three of us went back in the rec room. Jeff and Bridget found a mat to sit on and a bean bag to lean against. I returned to my old place against the wall and sat down.

"Is that place reserved?"

I looked up, surprised. It was June.

I scrambled to my feet. "No, no," she said. "I meant it. Are you expecting someone?"

I shook my head. "We're a pretty casual lot," I said. "Not much planning is involved. The only thing you need around here is stamina."

June laughed. "In that case, do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," I said. "I'm delighted. It's just that I thought you'd be with Richard or Carmine."

She laughed again, and made an odd turning gesture in the air with her right hand. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"I was just putting the flag down. I'm off duty. I'm on my own time. Understand?"

"I don't, but it's none of my business."

June looked at me strangely. "But it is your business," she said. "Or at least that's what I've been told."

The girl had my undivided attention. Just as I was going to ask for an explanation, Steve walked to the front of the room.

The people fell silent.

"We're changing the format slightly, tonight," he said. "I don't have a tape for you, but some of our lovely guests have agreed to share some intimate moments with you. Meet the mystery ladies."

Bette and Sandy, both wearing long flowing robes and masquerade masks came to the edge of the platform and bowed to the audience.

Sandy let Bette lead her to the cot which had been turned sideways, so when they sat on it they faced the audience. A mirror was tilted above the cot so the audience could see the cot from above. Bette put her arms around Sandy and gave her a long, tender, loving kiss. I knew that wasn't simulated. She petted Sandy's hair, and kissed her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth again, while she slipped her hand into the folds of Sandy's gown. It was clear that she was stroking Sandy's breast.

Somehow, the shadow of a hand moving under the cloth was more erotic than if Sandy had been naked.

Timidly, and only after Bette placed her hand there, Sandy began to stroke Bette's upturned breasts through her robe.

"I wouldn't mind if someone did that to me," June said absently. I grinned and scooted a little closer.

I cupped her breast through her dress. "The zipper is in back," she said.

I quickly had her dress resting in her lap. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were full without drooping. Her soft nipples pointed straight ahead like little headlights. I reached down and touched the nearest one with my tongue.

"Ummm, that feels good," she said. "But you're missing your wife's stage debut."

I glanced at the stage. Both women were naked, and were very visible in the mirror as they rested on the cot, petting and loving each other. Bette's fingers were exploring Sandy's womanhood. I turned back to June.

"She is your wife, isn't she?"

I didn't want to discuss my marital situation. "Sort of," I agreed, and let it go at that.

"She's very beautiful," June said.

"Which one are you talking about?" I asked.

"The blonde. I saw the way she was looking at you when we met."

"The blonde's a friend," I said. "She's married to that hunk sitting over there with Bridget."

"Oh," June said. "Pardon me. I was mistaken."

I glanced back at the stage. Bette had swapped ends, and now she and Sandy were sucking and licking each other. I wondered if Sandy was sufficiently uninhibited to give this crowd a demonstration of her orgasmic power.

I turned back to June. "What happened to your date?"

She shrugged. "Right after we met you, the men told us to run along and have a good time. That's all I know."

"Well, if I'm not being too nosy, how did you meet them in the first place?"

"Carol called us," June said.

"Do you and Jacky work for the studio?" I asked.

"Sometimes, but we do better freelancing."

Something she said earlier came back to me. "Let me see if I get this straight," I said. "You and Jacky, do you work for an escort service?"

June shook her head. "Only when Carol needs us. Otherwise we freelance."

Things were beginning to jell. I remembered Steve's mentioning Carol's `little business on the side.'

"You freelance, you said?" I asked.

"That's right."

"Well, how does Carol fit into that?"

June's eyes narrowed, and I realized I had gone too far. Hastily, I retreated. "I'm sorry if you think I'm going where I've got no business. I don't mean to pry, but as you said yourself a few minutes ago, I do have a stake here -- my professional life is involved -- so I'm not just being nosy, or only asking questions for the hell of it."

June look thoughtfully at me for a moment. "I guess it doesn't matter," she said. "You'll find out sooner or later, anyhow." Then she told me about Carol's exclusive telephone list.

"You knew that Carol used to trick? Well, she did. But then she began to specialize and now she has a nice list of john's wives who belong to some swinger's club she goes to. These women tell Carol they'd like to find a nice clean, safe girl for their husband as a birthday present, or for Christmas or whatever, and she calls me or Jacky. It's a nice clean trick, and we split with her. Sometimes it's more of a regular escort thing, but again, we know she always knows the john, and it is always a clean deal. Sometimes we get two or three calls a week." "So she's running a call ring, and you're the girls." I said almost to myself, trying to fold what June had told me into my new job description.

"Well, Jesus H. Christ," she said with surprisingly heavy sarcasm, "I do believe he's finally figured it out."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming," I said as I licked her other breast. "One last question. What did you mean when you said `it was my business'"?

She rolled her eyes, expressing displeasure at my persistent questions. "OK," she said. "But this is your last answer. It's like this. I get five bills for a gig like this. Jacky gets five. It's a cash transaction and I don't think Carol is printing the money in the kitchen. It's no skin off my ass where the money comes from, but its got to be coming put of your till.

"Frankly, I don't know why you wanted a couple of working girls. It looks to me like you've got more good looking free nooky here than anyone could possibly use."

I didn't know, either, but I intended to find out. I sadly kissed her breast goodby. "I've got to go see a man about something," I said. I stood up. Ignoring the couples around me who were half undressed and rolling around on the mats or were already bent over the bean bags, I went looking for Steve or Carol.

I badly needed some answers.