Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  “I said I’m all right,” I replied impatiently. “I just had a few drinks.”

  Elaine went back into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I picked up a cigarette and tried to light it.

  “Where are you?” Marge asked. “The office has been trying to locate you all afternoon.”

  “I’m in a bar on Third Avenue,” I lied. “What do they want?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “Chris said it had something to do with the Steel Institute. He said for you to call him at home.” She hesitated a moment. “What happened, Brad? It didn’t go so good, did it?”

  “No, it didn’t,” I answered brusquely.

  I could almost see her smile encouragingly through the phone. “Don’t feel bad about it, Brad. It’s not that important. We can get along without it.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Chris said you might have to run down to Pittsburgh to their main office. He didn’t know, when I spoke to him last, but I packed your bag and sent it down to your office in case you need it. Are you going to call him now?”

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  Her voice brightened. “You’ll call me back and let me know what’s happening, won’t you?”

  “Of course, baby,” I replied.

  “I hope you didn’t drink too much,” she said. “You know how sick it makes you.”

  “I didn’t,” I answered. Suddenly I wanted to get off the phone. “I’ll call Chris now and call you right back.”

  I put the phone down while her goodbye was still ringing in my ear. As if it were a signal, the bathroom door opened again and Elaine came out.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “It wasn’t private.”

  Her eyes were very wide and thoughtful. “I couldn’t stand here and watch you lie.”

  I tried to make a joke of it. “No guts, eh?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “No guts,” she answered seriously. “I told you that before.”

  I reached toward her but she stepped around my outstretched hand. “You have another call to make, haven’t you?” she said pointedly.

  “It can keep,” I said, catching up to her. I kissed her mouth. Her body was warm through the towel.

  Her arms were around my neck. “Brad. Darling Brad.”

  I kissed the hollow on her throat where there were still beads of water from the shower. “I love you, Elaine,” I whispered. “Like I never loved before, like I never thought I’d feel.”

  I could hear her contented sigh as she snuggled closely against me. “Tell me, Brad, tell me. Make me feel that you’re not lying, not playing with me. Tell me that you love me like I love you. Tell me. Show me.”

  I did both.

  Chris’s voice was excited when I finally called him. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Drinking,” I answered succinctly. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon,” he said. “Brady wants to see you at his office in Pittsburgh tomorrow morning.”

  His excitement began to run through me. The old pitch had crossed the plate after all. I was a fool to try to outguess the umpire. “I’ll get right out and get plane tickets,” I said.

  “I got ’em already,” he replied quickly. “They’re out at the airport in your name. Flight one-oh-four, leaving at eleven-fifteen. And your valise is out there too, in the checkroom.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost ten o’clock. I would have to hurry. “Okay, Chris. I’ll get going.”

  A note of relief came into his voice. “Bring home the bacon, boss. Get that job and we’ll all eat high off the hog.”

  “Hog meat is for peasants,” I grinned. “Trot out the fatted calf.”

  I put down the phone and turned to Elaine. “You heard?” I asked.

  She nodded, her hair rippling luminously against the white pillow. “Better hurry,” she said. “There isn’t much time.”

  “You better hurry,” I smiled at her, “and throw some things in a bag. You’re coming with me.”

  She sat up in bed, startled. “Brad, don’t be a fool. You can’t do that.”

  I was already slipping into my shirt. “Doll,” I said, joking, “you don’t know me. I can do anything. You’re my good luck piece, and you’re not getting out of my sight until this deal is signed, sealed and delivered.”

  I called home while Elaine was packing her valise. “I’m grabbing the eleven-fifteen plane to Pittsburgh,” I said.

  “I was wondering why you didn’t call right back,” Marge replied.

  “I couldn’t,” I said hurriedly. “Chris’s line was busy and I just caught him. Brady wants to see me.”

  “Wonderful,” she laughed into the phone. “I’m so proud of you, Brad. I just know you’ll do good.”

  Chris had taken care of everything. There was a note attached to my bag informing me that I had a suite reserved in my name at the Brooke in Pittsburgh. I signed the register and we went up to our room at about two in the morning.

  She stood in the center of the living room while the bellhop checked the suite. At last he came back to me, the key in his hand. I gave him a dollar and the door closed behind him.

  I turned to her and smiled. “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Don’t be so grim, doll,” I said. “Pittsburgh can’t be that bad.”

  At last she answered. “I must have been crazy to let you do it. What if you run into someone you know?”

  “What if you do?” I countered.

  “I don’t have to explain anything to anybody,” she replied. “But you—”

  I didn’t let her finish. “I’ll do the worrying for me.”

  “Brad,” she protested, “you don’t know what people will say, how they are, what they do—”

  “And I don’t care,” I interrupted her again. “I don’t give a damn about people. All I care about is you. I want you near me, close to me. I don’t want to be away from you now that I’ve found you. I’ve spent too long a time waiting for you.”

  She came very close to me, her eyes searching my face. “Brad, you mean that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “We’re here, ain’t we? That’s answer enough.”

  Her eyes were still on my face. I don’t know what she sought there, but she must have seen what she wanted for she turned and started for the bedroom. My voice stopped her before she got to the door. She turned to face me.

  “Wait a minute, Elaine,” I said. “We gotta do things right.” I scooped her up in my arms and carried her across the threshold.

  Tonight it was Elaine who gave herself to me with abandon. She sat me down on the bed, gently unloosened my tie, slowly and sensuously unbuttoned my shirt, kissed and licked my chest, bit at my nipples, ran her hands and fingernails over my chest. Then she slowly took off her own clothing. I was entranced as the moonlight and shadows showed the silhouette of her body.

  She knelt in front of me and licked and kissed my face, my arms, my neck, my chest. As she worked down my body, never touching my penis, she continued to lick and bite and kiss me. Her hands moved toward my groin and massaged around the penis, almost kneading the muscles, her finger ran across my anus, her hand cupping my balls. I kept reaching for her, but she evaded my grasp. She knelt over me and kissed my penis, then quickly moved away, down to my feet and back up to the inside of my thighs, massaging me all the way with her tongue.

  Finally, when I thought I couldn’t stand another minute of this ecstasy and torture, she stood in front of me, held my head in her hands and gently guided me into her soft, luscious pussy. Her clitoris was hard as I brought her into my mouth and tasted her. As I probed her inner lips the warmth of her juices flowed into my mouth. Her hips moved sensuously as I held her buttocks in my hands, pressing her harder into my mouth. My cock couldn’t take any more; I pulled her onto my lap and covered my cock with her wet pussy. As we moved together I exploded into an orgasm like never be
fore. I kept coming as I felt her climax create an oven of heat, holding my cock tightly, washing it in her juices. As we lay in each other’s arms, she held my face and we kissed, slowly and deeply, our tongues moving and tasting our passions until we couldn’t breathe. She wrapped her legs around me.

  “Don’t move, Brad,” Elaine said. “I want you inside of me all night.”

  We held each other close. We slept inside each other’s souls that night, a place where only lovers can go.

  10

  Room service rang the bell on the door. The sun was creeping into the room. I looked on the bedside table and checked my watch. Seven a.m. I looked over at the other side of the bed. Elaine was gone.

  “Good morning, handsome,” she said as she walked into the bedroom carrying a breakfast tray.

  She looked beautiful, a glow of pink on her golden skin, her eyes alive and sparkling. I stared at her. “How long have you been up?”

  “Oh, about an hour,” she said. “We never unpacked last night. I sent your suit and shirt down to be pressed. My uncle likes a well-dressed man.”

  “Is that so?” I smiled up at her. “Well, what if I just call your uncle and tell him that I’d like to stay in bed undressed today with this sexy broad who happens to be his niece.”

  “I think,” she said teasing me back, “he would consider that very frivolous behavior. I don’t think he would go for it.”

  “What’s with that uncle of yours? All work and no love makes Brad a very dull boy,” I said and laughed.

  “That’s one thing you would never be, Brad: a very dull boy,” she said, reaching to hold my hand. She brought it up to her lips and kissed my palm.

  “Well, I think your uncle is probably a very dull boy!” I said.

  “He’s a sweet old man, really. Tough, but sweet. He’s had a lot of problems to deal with personally.”

  “Yeah, I guess everybody has their problems,” I said solemnly. I thought he was still a mean bastard, but I didn’t press the issue. She saw a softer side of him than I did. From everything I heard he showed no mercy to anyone and he had too much money and power for his competitors to fight.

  Elaine took the silver cover off my breakfast plate. There were eggs, sunny-side up; a rasher of bacon, well done; hash brown potatoes; a slice of cantaloupe; pancakes with blueberry syrup; hot oatmeal. “My God, are you sending me off to war?”

  She laughed. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered everything.”

  “My kind of girl,” I said as I brushed her hair with my lips. To my surprise I ate everything except the oatmeal and she ate that.

  “What time is your meeting?” Elaine asked.

  “Eight-thirty.” I looked at my watch. “Jesus, I better get dressed.” I jumped out of bed and into the shower. I felt wonderful. I knew it would be a great day.

  I could hear the phone ringing from the shower. I wrapped a towel around me and ran out to the bedroom. Elaine looked almost frozen as she watched the phone, each ring sending an electric shock up her spine. I grabbed the phone off the hook. “Hello.”

  I knew it was Marge even before I picked it up. I looked at Elaine. She knew, too. Suddenly I felt myself tighten. The honeymoon was over, real life was back.

  “Hi, honey,” Marge spoke into the phone. “I was afraid you had already left for the meeting.”

  “Not yet, I was in the shower,” I answered, trying to sound normal.

  “You sound nervous,” she said.

  “Yeah, probably. This guy is pretty tough,” I answered.

  “Well, I wanted you to know I love you and wish you good luck. I know you’ll do fine,” she said sweetly.

  “Thanks, Marge,” I said. “I’ll call you with the results. Sorry, I’m in such a hurry.” I placed the phone back on the receiver and looked at Elaine.

  “It’s okay, Brad,” she said. I could see tears forming in her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let anything interfere with this meeting. I felt like a heel. I figured that Chris gave Marge the room number and the phone number of the hotel.

  She stayed in the living room while I got dressed. When I appeared at the door, she saw my mood. I was nervous with everything that just happened and because I didn’t know what to expect from the old man. Christ, I thought to myself, why couldn’t we have just stayed in our world together.

  She walked over to me and put her finger up to my lips. “No words,” she said and kissed me on the lips. Then she reached down and unzipped my fly. I started to speak and she stopped me. She held me in her hand. Just the touch of her hand made me start to get hard. She slowly began to caress me in her hand. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. She knelt, ran her tongue around the head of my penis and began moving up and down the phallus with her tongue. She moved and put a testicle in her mouth and slowly massaged me, then moved to the other testicle, all the time rhythmically moving her hand up and down my shaft…. Then she covered me with her mouth. I came in waves.

  She took some Kleenex and wiped the saliva and semen off my penis and balls, placed my now limp member back into my pants and zipped me up. Then she stood up.

  “Now you’re ready to go,” she smiled, and straightened my tie.

  11

  The administration building of Consolidated Steel was new and shining-white, just inside the steel wire grating that fenced their property. Behind the building lay the black, soot-covered foundries, their chimneys belching flame and smoke into the clear blue sky.

  A uniformed special officer stopped me as I came through the door. “Mr. Rowan to see Mr. Brady,” I said.

  “Do you have a pass?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “An appointment?”

  “Yes.”

  He picked up a telephone on a table near him and whispered into it, all the while watching me carefully. I lit a cigarette while waiting for him to pass me. I had time to take just one drag when he put the phone down. “This elevator, Mr. Rowan,” he said politely and pressed a button on the wall.

  The elevator doors opened and there was a second uniformed special officer in the elevator. “Mr. Rowan to Mr. Brady’s office,” said the first officer as I went into the elevator.

  The doors closed behind me and the elevator began its ascent. I looked at the operator. “This is almost as bad as getting to see the President,” I smiled.

  “Mr. Brady is Chairman of the Board,” the special officer deadpanned.

  For a moment I fought an impulse to tell him that I was talking about the President of the United States but it would have been wasted so I kept my mouth shut. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. I stepped out.

  The special officer was right behind me. “This way, sir.”

  I followed him down a deserted marble corridor, past a series of pine-paneled doors. Between each door was an electric light in the form of a torch in the hand of a classic Greek figure. At almost any moment I expected one of the doors to open and an undertaker to come out to direct us to the remains.

  He paused in front of one of the doors, knocked lightly, then opened it and waved me in. I blinked my eyes at the light in the room after the gloomy corridor and heard the door close gently behind me.

  “Mr. Rowan?” The girl at the large semicircular desk in the center of the room looked up at me inquiringly.

  I nodded and walked toward her.

  She got up and came around her desk. “Mr. Brady is tied up at the moment and extends his apologies. Would you care to wait in the reception room, please?”

  I let out a silent whistle. After this, nobody could tell me that the only thing Matt Brady had on his mind was steel. Not with a babe like this for a secretary. This kid was built for long-distance hauling and she had the equipment that went with endurance.

  “Must I?” I smiled.

  The smile was wasted, for she turned and led me to another door. I followed her slowly, enjoying the clockwork. This was a dame who knew what she had and made no bones about it. As a matter of fact I cou
ldn’t see a bone anywhere. Nothing but good-eating meat. She held the door open for me.

  I stopped and looked at her. “How come you ain’t wearing one of them special cop uniforms?” I asked her.

  She didn’t smile. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said formally. “If there’s anything you’d like, please call me.”

  “Is that legit?” I grinned.

  For the first time an expression appeared on her face. She looked puzzled.

  I laughed aloud. “D’you mean that?” I translated.

  The puzzled frown vanished. “Of course,” she replied. “Cigars and cigarettes are in the humidor on the table. Magazines and papers on the rack beside it.” She closed the door before I had a chance to say anything else.

  I looked around the room. It was richly and quietly furnished. The walls were oak-paneled, the heavy furniture of comfortable leather. The carpets were thick and seemed to come up to your ankles. My eye was caught by a group of photographs neatly framed, hung in a cluster on the wall opposite the door.

  I walked over to them. Some very familiar faces looked down at me. Seven photographs all autographed to Matt Brady personally. All presidents of the United States. Woodrow Wilson, Harding, Coolidge, Hoover, F.D.R., Truman and Eisenhower.

  I ground out my cigarette in a tray. No wonder the operator hadn’t gone for my joke. Presidents come and go but Matt Brady went on forever. I sat down and stared up at the photographs. Tough little man, Matt Brady. Smart. He didn’t keep these pictures in his office like any other man would, where he could point to them or ignore them consciously to impress his visitors. He kept them in his waiting room as if to keep them in their place.

  I began to wonder what I was doing here. Any guy who had as highly developed a sense of public psychology as Matt Brady seemed to have didn’t need a guy like me for anything. I looked at my watch. I had already been in the room about five minutes. If I had it figured right, it would be ten minutes before he would call for me. By then I would have had time to absorb the psychological effect of the waiting room.