by Nan Ryan
“Lucy,” came the quick response from a dozen helpful people at once. “Lucy, Lucy,” echoed throughout the building.
“Sorry you doubted me?” Blackie asked Lucy. She nodded. “Think you should apologize?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said, shrugging slender shoulders.
Blackie smiled. He stood with his feet apart, arms folded over his chest, while she circled slowly around him, looking at the strange building. He told her the giant, Margate elephant had been a major attraction since being built by a real estate promoter years ago.
“Hmmm,” Lucy murmured, stopping directly in front of Blackie. Her hands went to her hips and she asked, “Did you bring me here because I resemble her?”
Blackie’s arms came unfolded. “I brought you here because I don’t want you leaving Atlantic City without seeing and doing everything there is to see and do.” He reached out, curled a long forefinger around the top edge of the boat-necked bodice of her dress, and gently drew her toward him. His voice lowering, he said, “The only similarity between you and this other Lucy,” he inclined his dark head to encompass the interior of the huge elephant, “is that you—like her—are a ‘major attraction’ to me.”
Lucy didn’t believe him for a second, but her knees weakened just the same and it was all she could do not to helplessly sway into him. She could almost feel herself melting against his tall, lean frame. Oh, how she longed to lay her head on his chest and wrap her arms around him.
Instead she rolled her eyes skyward, brushed his hand from her bodice, turned and walked away. Laughing now, Blackie watched her a moment. Then he went after her.
Lucy squealed her surprise and outrage when he swept her off her feet, lifted her up against his solid chest, and told the startled tourists who turned to stare, “Pay us no mind. We’re on our honeymoon.”
The statement elicited aaahs and ooohs and even a round of applause from the approving, romantic crowd. Shouts of congratulations and best wishes followed them as Blackie carried the laughing Lucy toward the exit.
Struggling in his arms and kicking her feet, Lucy said, “Put me down! Now, I mean it, Blackie. Put me down. People are staring!”
“Kiss me and I will.”
“Are you insane? It’s broad daylight and we’re in a public place and there are crowds all around and we…”
Blackie’s lips silenced her protests. He kissed Lucy right there in broad daylight in that very public place with crowds all around. Holding her high in his arms, he kissed her until she quit struggling.
Lucy stopped gripping and twisting at his shirtfront when his mouth opened on hers. Her hand flattened against the hard muscles of his chest when his tongue parted her lips, skimmed over her teeth, then slipped between. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest when his tongue touched hers.
The broad daylight, the public place, the crowds all around them quickly faded away and were forgotten by Lucy. There was no one and nothing but Blackie. Only Blackie. Blackie’s strong hands beneath her knees and at her waist. Blackie holding her so close her breasts were flattened against his chest. Blackie’s marvelous mouth molding her trembling lips to fit his own.
Blackie. Blackie. Blackie.
Slowly, gently, his lips never leaving hers, Blackie lowered Lucy to her feet. When her toes touched the ground, his hands settled on her hips and he turned her more fully to face him.
As she had wanted to do earlier, Lucy swayed helplessly into him. She melted against his tall, lean frame, wrapping her arms around his trim waist.
Lucy swallowed and blinked when at last their lips separated. She caught the flash of sultry heat in his night-black eyes before it vanished and Blackie set her back, as if mentally shaking himself.
He gave her a grin and, as if nothing had happened, said, “So what do you say, Lucy? The Steel Pier for lunch and then the Sousa concert?”
Lucy nodded, dazed.
Back on the Boardwalk they lunched on hot dogs and ice-cold sodas. Then they held hands at the early afternoon concert and Blackie whispered to Lucy that Sousa’s wife was from Atlantic City. That’s why the maestro played here every summer.
It was a wonderful, spirited concert and both Lucy and Blackie were humming the lively marches when they made their way down the long wooden walk to meet Lochlin MacDonald.
Lochlin was humming with them by the time they reached the Atlantic Grand. The trio made it up the hotel’s back steps. Out of breath, stumbling and laughing, Blackie wheeled Lochlin through one of the double beachside doors Lucy held open wide.
They were happily headed for the elevator when the desk clerk called out, “Blackie! Excuse me a moment, please. A message came for you.”
Blackie waved to the desk clerk. “Take over the driving for a minute, will you, Lucy? I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
Lucy nodded and stepped behind Lochlin’s wheel chair. Blackie crossed to the marble topped front desk. The beak nosed desk clerk with the bushy eyebrows and large prominent ears handed Blackie a small envelope of heavy blue parchment paper. “When did this note arrive?” Blackie asked.
“A messenger clad in sailing clothes delivered it an hour ago.”
Blackie frowned, tore the blue envelope open, and read the brief message.
Darling,
Just arrived on the Temptress. Hurry aboard or else I’ll come straight to the hotel. The champagne is cold and I’m hot!
Lilly
Chapter Twenty-One
Jesus God Christ!
Blackie swore under his breath and reflexively crumpled the note into a tightly wadded ball in his fist.
“Sir?” said the desk clerk. “Did you say something?”
“What?” Blackie looked up. “Oh. No. No, I didn’t say anything.” He glanced anxiously over his shoulder, then back, pushed the crinkled note and matching envelope across the marble counter. “Throw this in the trash for me, will you, Sims?”
The desk clerk nodded politely.
Blackie turned away. For the first time in days he wanted a drink. Needed a drink. Bad. He cast a longing glance toward the hotel bar. He could almost taste a soothing shot of bourbon. His mouth watered. A vein throbbed on his forehead. He swallowed hard and crossed back to Lucy and Lochlin.
“Hey, folks,” he said, smiling easily now, rubbing his hands together, “I’ve got this minor problem.”
“We don’t want to hear it,” Lochlin quickly cracked, “do we, Lucy?”
Lucy smiled, but looked worriedly at Blackie. “Has something happened?”
Blackie shrugged wide shoulders. He answered imperturbably, “No, no. Nothing like that. Actually, I had completely forgotten about a previous engagement…ah…a…business appointment I have this afternoon. Right now as a matter of fact. I’m already a half hour late.”
“A business appointment?” Lucy immediately brightened. Hopefully; “An opportunity for a position at some reputable firm perhaps?”
“Blackie LaDuke seeking gainful employment?” Lochlin said, then burst out laughing. “Now that’ll be the day.”
Blackie laughed as well, and offered no further information. He looked at Lucy. “I’ll be back in an hour; two at the most.” He laid the back of his hand against her cheek, took it away. “Lady Strange and the Colonel should be joining you two around three.” He pressed Lochlin’s shoulder and whispered to Lucy, “Say you’ll miss me.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Go on. Get out of here,” ordered Lochlin.
Blackie turned and hurried back toward the beachside double doors. Once outside on the hotel’s wide veranda, he exhaled loudly, then gritted his teeth and shook his dark head with frustration. He skipped down the steps muttering oaths, wishing to high heaven he had a good stiff drink, wondering how the hell he was going to get himself out of this fine mess.
Short minutes after Lucy pushed Lochlin’s wheel chair out onto his sunny fifth floor balcony, Colonel Mitchell and Lady Strange arrived. The tall, silver-haired Colonel was,
as usual, friendly, charming, and considerate, a strong reassuring presence of fatherly authority.
On his arm was the short, rotund Lady Strange. And resting in Lady Strange’s plump arm was her spoiled, overweight Persian, Precious. The huge, black tom was cradled comfortably against his mistress’ pillowy breasts, the extended claws of his right paw tangled in a rope of priceless pearls. Precious flopped his long tail languidly back and forth in lazy contentment, and made low rattling sounds deep in his throat as he dozed with his golden eyes slitted half open.
Warm greetings were exchanged and Lady Strange, looking about, frowning, immediately asked, “Where’s my sweet boy, Blackie?”
“He had a prior engagement, Your Ladyship,” Lochlin calmly explained, “some sort of business meeting.”
Puffing, lowering herself—with the aid of the mannerly Colonel—down onto the long white settee, Lady Strange said, “He’ll be joining us shortly?”
“He hopes to,” said Lucy.
Just then a white jacketed waiter from the hotel kitchen stepped out onto the balcony carrying a silver tray atop which was a tall crystal pitcher of iced tea, a half dozen glasses, a porcelain sugar bowl, a small silver dish containing sliced lemon, and a plate of freshly baked miniature cakes and assorted cookies.
Lady Strange’s short, bejeweled fingers were the first to reach for the tempting sweets. Lochlin and the Colonel drank their iced tea in easy companionship as Lady Strange eagerly began devouring the rich desserts. Neither thirsty nor hungry, Lucy was fidgety. Unable to sit still. She told herself Blackie’s absence was not the cause of her restlessness. But she knew better.
Lochlin’s balcony seemed empty on this sunny Saturday afternoon.
Blackie was not here.
Inwardly sighing, impatiently counting the minutes until his return, Lucy ventured over to the powerful telescope mounted on a tripod at the balcony’s railing. She pulled the telescope around, leaned to it, closed one eye, peered through the lens, and looked out at the array of ships and boats on the water.
She attempted to entertain herself silently for a time. Then, pointing to a vessel far out on the horizon, wondering what kind of ship it was and where it was headed, she enlisted Lochlin’s help.
The former seaman was eager to share his vast knowledge of all ocean-going vessels. His eyes immediately flashed and he strained against the confines of his unresponsive body. The Colonel was aware that Lochlin’s condition was worsening so rapidly now he was incapable of rolling the wheels of his chair. Mitchell rose to his feet. He stretched, yawned, acted as if he himself wanted to move about. He pushed Lochlin’s chair to the mounted telescope where Lucy waited, then unobtrusively stepped aside, and leaned on the balcony railing for a time, staring wordlessly out to sea. Momentarily he turned away, reclaiming his chair near Lady Strange.
Beaming, in all his glory now, Lochlin eagerly identified for the interested and impressed Lucy the various kinds of craft moving about in their line of vision. He could spout chapter and verse as to the make, the tonnage, the speed, and the cost of every vessel—sail, steam, and tug—that ever plied the choppy waves of the shallow coastal waters and deep seas beyond. Lochlin would peer through the telescope, zero in on a particular ship or boat, pull his head away, and allow Lucy to look while he told her exactly what she was seeing.
Making a wide, slow sweep from right to left with the telescope, teacher and pupil enjoyed themselves tremendously while Lady Strange, stroking the purring Precious, greedily finished the cakes and cookies. Colonel Mitchell, quietly observing his strange assortment of treasured friends, smiled to himself and steepled his long fingers.
Lucy said, “Oh, Lochlin! Look at this. It’s a big private yacht, isn’t it?” And she turned the telescope over to him once again.
Lochlin squinted through the lens, focused on the sleek white yacht bobbing gently up and down.
“It sure is and it’s a fine one, too. I can read the name on the stem. It’s the yacht Temptress, out of New York City.” Lochlin suddenly whistled through his teeth.
“What? What is it?” Lucy asked.
“A beautiful blond with long hair just appeared on deck.”
“Really? I want to see,” Lucy said.
“Alright. Just a minute and I…I…”
Eye pressed to the lens, Lochlin was watching as a small motor launch came up alongside the large white yacht and a tall, lean, black haired man stood up. Lochlin blinked, stared, swallowed. And watched as Blackie LaDuke stepped out of the launch, agilely climbed the yacht’s side ladder, and lithely swung aboard.
“Let me look now,” Lucy was growing impatient. “I want to see the blond lady.”
“She’s gone below,” Lochlin lied. He pulled back from the telescope, but did not relinquish the lens to Lucy. “I’m a little tired now,” he said quickly. “Think you could wheel me to the table and pour me an iced tea?”
“Oh, of course,” Lucy said.
“Darling! Oh, darling! I missed you so!”
The Park Avenue Goddess threw her arms around Blackie’s neck and kissed him the minute he stepped onto the deck of the yacht, Temptress. Her wrists clasped firmly behind his head, she leaned back from the waist, pressed her pelvis to his, and began to thrust slowly, rhythmically against him.
“Lilly, for christsakes,” Blackie took hold of her arms, and attempted to free himself.
She clung for dear life. “What? What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Blackie reached up, gripped her wrists, and pried her hands from his neck. He set her back a little away from him and said, “What are you doing here?”
“Well, what kind of welcome is that? I was lonely without you.” She smiled and informed him, “It’s all planned, darling. We’ll go on down to Cape May this afternoon and tomorrow…”
“No, Lilly. We won’t. I won’t.”
She laughed and shook her gleaming blond head. “I love it when you’re stubborn, Blackie. You’re so adorable.” She clasped his rib cage, dug her long nails into his flesh, leaned forward, and pressed her lips into the V of his open collared shirt.
Again he set her back. “Lilly, we have to talk.”
“Later, darling. We’ll talk later. First let’s…”
“No. Now. We’ll talk now. I’m not staying.”
She looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “What do you mean? Of course, you’re staying. I want you to stay and I…”
“Lilly, you aren’t listening.” He shook his head in annoyance.
She frowned. “But, I am. You want to talk, let’s talk.” She smiled at him, crossed her arms.
“That’s better,” he said. “I came out to tell you…”
“We can’t talk here, Blackie.” Lilly’s arms came uncrossed. She glanced around, gestured to a half-dozen crewmembers, uniformed in starched white, all within earshot. “Let’s go below where we have a little privacy.” She tugged on Blackie’s hand.
Blackie considered flatly refusing. He was uncomfortable with the idea of going down to her cabin. He knew this spoiled, determined woman all too well. Once she got him below, she would do everything in her power to keep him here.
He knew himself, too. Knew his own weaknesses. Knew if he held still for a couple of drinks, a couple of kisses, he’d be a goner. The afternoon would quickly turn into one of those heated sexual frolics that might well last into the night.
He couldn’t let that happen.
He had promised Lucy he’d take her to the rooftop dance at the Ritz-Carlton and he meant to keep that promise.
“Come on, darling,” Lilly coaxed, honey dripping, “we’ll have one teeny-weeny little drink and we’ll talk.”
“Too early in the day for a drink,” Blackie said, reluctantly following her down the stairs to the opulent main cabin.
Lilly gaily laughed as if he’d said something hilarious. “Darling, since when is any hour too early for a drink?”
Below deck, Blackie ducked his head and went t
hrough the teak framed hatch of Lily’s private cabin. He advanced a couple of steps, blinking blindly. It was very dim inside. The curtains were closed over the portholes. The lamps were unlit. Blackie stood unmoving, waiting for his pupils to adjust. Lilly’s laughter filled the shadowy room as she kicked off her shoes, danced around in back of him, then closed and locked the door. She swiftly stepped up behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed herself against his back. She nipped at his left shoulder through the fabric of his shirt and slid a bent knee up the outside of his long, right leg.
“Give you any ideas?” she asked seductively, hooking her raised leg around his hard thigh, slithering her bare heel toward his groin.
Blackie caught her slim ankle with his hand, staying her foot. “Cut it out, Lilly. I told you, I’m not staying.”
Lilly lowered her bare toes to the floor, released him, and moved around to face him. Fingers toying with a shirt button at the middle of his chest, she pouted like a spoiled child, puffing out her bottom lip, then whining, “You are too staying! Pleasssse. Darling…pleasssse.”
“No.” He was inflexible. “No. I’m sorry you’ve come all the way down here when…”
“Look around you,” she interrupted, a sharp red fingernail circling a flat brown nipple through his white lawn shirt. “And it’s all for you.”
Blackie’s eyes were now adjusted to the dim light. He glanced around, saw that the lavish cabin had been readied for a tryst. White satin sheets shimmered on the turned-down bed, and a couple of bottles of champagne were stashed deep down in the icy depths of a silver bucket beside the bed. On the bedside table was a silver bowl of sun ripened fruit and a tray of cheeses and breads.
And placed squarely on the satin sheeted bed was yet another silver tray, this one holding perfumed oils in sparkling crystal vials, a half dozen long, white feathers, and an impressive array of toys and trinkets for taunting and tickling an aroused, unclothed body. It was evident she had planned well for an adventure in prolonged sexual pleasure.