flattened against his sleek, hairless chest.
Marty could see the beads of sweat on their bodies. He could almost feel the heat
emanating from them.
Gently, the man pushed the girl backward. She lay on the bed facing the audience with
her head down on a pillow and her feet still planted upon the floor of the stage.
Her breasts pointed up at the ceiling. The man stood in front of her with his back
to the audience. His hands reached again for her breasts. He held a nipple in each
hand and began to rotate her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. The girl
moaned louder and louder and the sax wailed in the background.
Marty looked at Meg again. It wasn’t hard to see how excited she was. She was handling
herself now. With one hand she stimulated her own breasts. Her other hand was out
of sight beneath the table. Marty grinned. He could guess what she was doing with
it.
The Mex girl’s thighs were parted now. The man stepped aside for a moment so that
the audience could examine the girl. Then he resumed his place and stepped in closer.
His hands gripped the girl’s thighs, pressing them still further apart.
Then he began.
The girl on the black sheet writhed like a snake. Meg, too, was moaning. The girl’s
breasts heaved. Her feet left the floor and her long legs wound around the man’s thighs,
gripping him. Her hips churned, meeting his lust with her lust. The girl moaned, and
the baritone sax moaned with her.
* * *
“Jesus,” Lily said. “You’d think somebody was killing that broad. What’s the matter
with her?”
Cassie laughed. “That’s Chita,” she said, “Chita’s the best groaner in the business.
She can carry on like that when she don’t feel a thing. With a trick, for example.
She can make some stupid jerk think he’s sending her like to the moon.”
Lily didn’t say anything. When Chita was finished it was going to be her turn. Not
right away, of course; first the mariachi band would make some bad music for ten or
fifteen minutes while waiters brought fresh drinks around and while men who were ready
for action left to meet Chita or some of the other girls. Then, after the intermission
was over, she and Cassie would be next on the program. She could tell that Cassie
was hot just thinking about it. She herself was not. It was something of a kick to
make it with Cassie, but making it privately was different than making it for an audience.
Lily was fairly certain that the act was going to be an act all the way as far as
she herself was concerned. She would do what she was supposed to do, and she would
lie there while Cassie did her part, but she didn’t expect to get much of a bang out
of the whole thing. It would be boring as hell.
“You got to give Ringo credit,” Cassie was saying now. “The way he has that horn grooving
in the background, picking up Chita’s moans and cooking along with her. That’s the
whole bit about this type of scene, Lily. What they do on the stage is nothing. It’s
the extra little kicks you can supply so the guy watching thinks he’s seeing something
different.”
“Solid.”
“You got to make like a production out of it, Lily. The little extra kicks make it
special. I mean, a guy may wig just seeing another guy slipping it to a chick. But
it’s a bigger kick when they do something far out, or when they do it with bells ringing.”
“I’m hip,” Lily said. She was getting into her costume now, a frilly little-girl dress,
pink and white and ruffled.
“Take that dress,” Cassie said. “Another good idea of Ringo’s. It makes you look about
twelve years old, and you’ve got a baby face to go with it. The figure is no baby
shape, but that’s okay as it is. It’s hot enough for a cat to watch two chicks grooving
together, but it gets even hotter when one of them looks like a kid. Get it?”
“Got it.”
“I could tell you something,” Cassie went on. “Something
Marty could see the beads of sweat on their bodies. He could almost feel the heat
emanating from them.
Gently, the man pushed the girl backward. She lay on the bed facing the audience with
her head down on a pillow and her feet still planted upon the floor of the stage.
Her breasts pointed up at the ceiling. The man stood in front of her with his back
to the audience. His hands reached again for her breasts. He held a nipple in each
hand and began to rotate her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. The girl
moaned louder and louder and the sax wailed in the background.
Marty looked at Meg again. It wasn’t hard to see how excited she was. She was handling
herself now. With one hand she stimulated her own breasts. Her other hand was out
of sight beneath the table. Marty grinned. He could guess what she was doing with
it.
The Mex girl’s thighs were parted now. The man stepped aside for a moment so that
the audience could examine the girl. Then he resumed his place and stepped in closer.
His hands gripped the girl’s thighs, pressing them still further apart.
Then he began.
The girl on the black sheet writhed like a snake. Meg, too, was moaning. The girl’s
breasts heaved. Her feet left the floor and her long legs wound around the man’s thighs,
gripping him. Her hips churned, meeting his lust with her lust. The girl moaned, and
the baritone sax moaned with her.
* * *
“Jesus,” Lily said. “You’d think somebody was killing that broad. What’s the matter
with her?”
Cassie laughed. “That’s Chita,” she said, “Chita’s the best groaner in the business.
She can carry on like that when she don’t feel a thing. With a trick, for example.
She can make some stupid jerk think he’s sending her like to the moon.”
Lily didn’t say anything. When Chita was finished it was going to be her turn. Not
right away, of course; first the mariachi band would make some bad music for ten or
fifteen minutes while waiters brought fresh drinks around and while men who were ready
for action left to meet Chita or some of the other girls. Then, after the intermission
was over, she and Cassie would be next on the program. She could tell that Cassie
was hot just thinking about it. She herself was not. It was something of a kick to
make it with Cassie, but making it privately was different than making it for an audience.
Lily was fairly certain that the act was going to be an act all the way as far as
she herself was concerned. She would do what she was supposed to do, and she would
lie there while Cassie did her part, but she didn’t expect to get much of a bang out
of the whole thing. It would be boring as hell.
“You got to give Ringo credit,” Cassie was saying now. “The way he has that horn grooving
in the background, picking up Chita’s moans and cooking along with her. That’s the
whole bit about this type of scene, Lily. What they do on the stage is nothing. It’s
the extra little kicks you can supply so the guy watching thinks he’s seeing something
different.”
“Solid.”
“You got to make like a production out of it, Lily. The little extra kicks make it
special. I mean, a guy may wig just seeing another guy slipping it to a chick. But
it’s a bigger kick when they do something far out, or when they do it with bells ringing.”
“I’m hip,” Lily said. She was getting into her costume now, a frilly little-girl dress,
pink and white and ruffled.
“Take that dress,” Cassie said. “Another good idea of Ringo’s. It makes you look about
twelve years old, and you’ve got a baby face to go with it. The figure is no baby
shape, but that’s okay as it is. It’s hot enough for a cat to watch two chicks grooving
together, but it gets even hotter when one of them looks like a kid. Get it?”
“Got it.”
“I could tell you something,” Cassie went on. “Something
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