That night she had Boogie install a sophisticated bugging system in Mickey’s office. All the better to know exactly what was going on.
Chapter 31
Venus Maria had rock-hard thighs on account of her daily workouts with a personal trainer. Her stomach was flat and firm, her arms and shoulders lightly muscled since she’d been regularly using weights. She jogged every day, and swam fifty lengths in her private pool. She treated her body as if it were a finely tuned instrument, never letting up on her vigorous schedule.
Martin Swanson appreciated every glowing inch. In bed with Venus Maria he felt as if the sex they enjoyed together couldn’t get any better – except that every time it did.
Venus Maria had learned plenty from Manuel, Ryan, and Innes. She’d made it her business to find out the details that turned them on. Ryan had liked taking showers together. Manuel had wanted her to massage his balls with a very expensive, highly scented body lotion. Innes was into being tied up with the lightest of silk scarves. The trick was, he’d told her, never to tear your bindings.
Venus Maria had soon discovered what he meant. The exquisite torture of not breaking the silken bonds was excruciating ecstasy. She had saved that particular experience for Martin until she knew the moment was exactly right.
The night before he returned to New York she took him on a trip to heaven and back. First they dined on sushi and champagne. Then they frolicked in her open-air hot tub overlooking the spectacular Hollywood view. And finally, she led him into her bedroom, flicked off the towel around his waist, and instructed him to lie naked on her four-poster bed while she bound him with fine silk scarves.
She knotted the scarves lightly around his wrists, tying them to the bedposts. Then she did the same to his ankles.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, putting up the semblance of a fight.
‘Relax,’ she smiled. ‘Lie back and dream your favourite fantasy.’
‘I don’t have fantasies.’
‘Unlucky you.’
She sat back and admired her work. He was completely helpless as long as he didn’t struggle, his excitement already evident.
Venus Maria smiled. What a turn-on! Martin Swanson – Mister New York – at her mercy.
‘This is a challenge,’ she announced. ‘A game. You break the scarves and the game is over. If you’re a good boy we’ll play all night.’
He fell right into it. ‘What’s the penalty?’
‘Ten thousand bucks a scarf,’ she said boldly.
‘High stakes.’
‘Can you afford it?’
He laughed. ‘Can you?’
‘I’m just the games-mistress. I don’t have to bet.’
‘Oh yes, you do. Give me a time limit. If I don’t break the ties – say in one hour – I win and you pay.’
‘Two hours an’ you got a deal.’
‘One and a half.’
‘We’re not negotiating on a building, Martin.’
His hard-on stayed steady. Bartering was obviously another favourite sport.
‘One hour and three quarters,’ he said.
‘A deal,’ she replied. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye who?’
‘Goodbye you. I’ll be back when I feel like it.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Never more.’
‘C’mon, Venus. What kind of a game is this?’
‘A challenge. I told you that before. Let’s see if you’re up to it, Martin.’ She left the room.
Talk about a power trip! Little Virginia Venus Maria Sierra from Brooklyn had Martin Swanson – Mister New York – trussed up and at her mercy.
With a secret smile she remembered the first time she’d set eyes on him. Ten years ago. 1977. She’d been fifteen years old.
* * *
Occasionally Virginia Venus Maria Sierra was able to get out of the house. It wasn’t often, because with four brothers to look after and a demanding father, there was always work to be done. Oh yeah, she got out of the house to attend school, but that wasn’t the same as recreational fun. Ron, her next-door neighbour and confidant, was all for encouraging her to escape and accompany him on his many trips to Broadway and Times Square.
Ron was a few years older than her. She thought he was incredibly exciting and daring. He was tall and gangly and a laugh to be with, totally unlike her burly brothers, who were macho men, full of their own strength and only interested in scoring with any neighbourhood girl they could get their hands on. Venus always had a strong suspicion they would try to score with her given half a chance. She never gave them that chance.
Whenever she was able, she and Ron would wander around New York having fun. Sometimes they would lurk outside the stage door of one of the big Broadway shows waiting for the stars to emerge. Ron kept an autograph book and persuaded her to do the same. It was interesting to see which stars would stop and sign their names, and which celebrities would sweep past, climb into their limousines, and ride off into the night.
‘Glamorous, isn’t it?’ Ron would say with a smile.
And Virginia Venus Maria would nod in total agreement.
‘I’m going to be a dancer,’ Ron confided.
‘How are you going to train for that?’ she asked. ‘Who’s going to put up the money?’
Ron said he was going to try for an audition at the School of Performing Arts.
‘How do you get to do that?’ Virginia Venus Maria asked curiously.
‘Talent,’ Ron replied.
One Saturday afternoon they were walking down Park Avenue when they saw a crowd gathered outside a church.
‘It’s a wedding!’ Ron said excitedly. ‘I love weddings, don’t you?’
Virginia Venus Maria nodded vigorously.
‘Brides always look so gorgeous,’ Ron exclaimed.
Virginia Venus Maria nodded again, thinking that she never looked gorgeous. She had straight brown hair and a pretty face, but there was nothing special about her, much to her chagrin.
They joined the crowd outside the church, watched, and waited. And when the happy couple emerged, Virginia Venus Maria set eyes on Martin Swanson for the first time.
She stood back in awe and watched him. He was handsome in a way she didn’t believe. He was handsome straight off the pages of a glossy magazine. He had sandy-coloured hair, full lips, and a ready smile for the photographs. He wore a morning suit and a bright red carnation.
Virginia Venus Maria glanced quickly at his bride, a pale and willowy redhead in an expensive white lace gown. They looked like a fairy-tale couple. They looked as if they came from another world.
‘Who are they?’ Virginia Venus Maria asked Ron.
‘Rich,’ Ron replied. ‘And that’s what we’re gonna be some day.’
The next morning she saw the bridegroom’s picture in the paper, along with his new wife. His name was Martin Swanson. Property tycoon. Now married to the beautiful Deena Akveld, a Dutch society woman.
For some unknown reason Virginia Venus Maria clipped the newspaper photograph, stashing it beneath her underwear in her dresser drawer. The picture seemed to represent a fantasy world, and yet it was a world that one day she wanted to be part of. And why not? Virginia Venus Maria had ambition.
Martin Swanson’s image stayed with her over the years. She read about him, followed his activities, watched him on television, and read even more about him in the gossip columns. Then one day she finally met him.
Of course, by the time she met him she was Venus Maria, the Venus Maria, and she pretended she had no idea who he was. Cooper Turner introduced him. The Cooper Turner.
Martin smiled that special bullshit smile of his and flirted outrageously. She looked around to see if his wife was present, but the coolly beautiful Deena appeared to have taken the night off.
When Martin sent her flowers the next day she was delighted – and when he turned up in Los Angeles a few weeks later, even more so.
By this time she’d found out more about him, having q
uestioned Cooper into the ground.
Cooper was amused. ‘Have you got a hot spot for Martin?’ he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Why? Would it bother you if I did?’ she retorted.
‘I don’t know,’ Cooper said. ‘I thought I was going to be your golden boy.’
Venus Maria laughed. ‘Cooper, you’re everyone’s golden boy!’
‘And you think Martin is a virgin?’
‘I just think he’s… fascinating.’
Cooper looked at her for a long moment. ‘I may as well tell you,’ he said, ‘Martin’s had a lot of girlfriends. A lot of beautiful, talented girlfriends. And he always goes back to Deena. No question. Deena is in his life to stay.’
‘Only as long as he wants her to,’ Venus Maria pointed out.
‘You’re a determined little thing, huh?’
‘Nobody ever accused me of being shy.’
When Martin called, Venus was not surprised. She invited him over to her house. He arrived within the hour. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you until I know you,’ she warned him. ‘That might take a couple of years. Right?’
‘I feel I know you now,’ he said. ‘I’ve read every press clipping I could find. Why don’t you look at my press file? Maybe we can save time that way.’
‘Are you interested in saving time?’
‘I’m interested in being with a woman like you.’
Five weeks later they consummated the deal. In the meantime he’d made three trips to the Coast and she’d visited New York twice.
The flirtation was hot, the anticipation almost better than the act. But the act wasn’t bad either. Venus Maria staged a long weekend at a friend’s house in Big Sur. She made it a weekend to remember. Scented candles, the best champagne, music, a four-poster bed, and raunchy uninhibited sex.
Their affair had been going on for several months and now she wanted it to be more.
All she had to do was wait for Martin to leave his wife, get a divorce, and marry her.
* * *
Venus Maria had the uncanny knack of tapping into other people’s fantasies, hence the enormous success of her videos. She went for the forbidden and dressed it up as entertainment. She could play any role – from little girl lost to voracious sexual superwoman. Her strut was every bit as good as her soft gentle side. She could kick ass or cuddle up with equal aplomb.
She could – if she so desired – tailor her act to fit any man’s fantasy.
Martin Swanson said he didn’t have fantasies.
Bull—
Shit.
Martin Swanson was a man. He had fantasies all right. And Venus Maria had figured out the one that would really turn him on – that all-time favourite, two girls together.
Only Venus Maria had no plans to appear as one of the girls. Group sex did not interest her. She liked her sexual experiences to be between two people – private and personal and wildly sensuous.
Martin needed shaking up. He was too stiff-assed, more concerned about his next deal than his sensual pleasure. Although Venus Maria had to admit she’d loosened him up considerably.
Late at night, alone in her bed, alone in Los Angeles, she often wondered if Deena was receiving the benefit of Martin’s new experience. He swore he never slept with his wife anymore, but he was a man, and all men lied about sex. Especially married men.
Venus Maria loved Martin. She didn’t know why. But she did know she had to have him.
It wasn’t his money, because she had plenty of her own.
It wasn’t his looks, because although he was an attractive man he was no Mel Gibson.
It wasn’t his personality, because even when he turned on the charm he was not exactly Mister Nice.
Love’s a bitch, Venus Maria thought bitterly, and hurried to rendezvous with Ron, who had brought two expensive hookers to her house, supplied by his friend Madame Loretta. (Ron collected weird friends – useful on this occasion.)
The girls did not look like whores. One of them resembled a college cheerleader – in fact she’d dressed the part. And the other was a five-feet-tall Oriental girl with shiny jet hair hanging below her ass.
Ron grinned. He adored intrigue. ‘Meet Tai and Lemon.’
Venus Maria raised an eyebrow. ‘Lemon?’
‘That’s me!’ squeaked the cheerleader. ‘My real name too! I love your records!’
That was the trouble with being famous. Everyone knew your business.
Trying to remain cool and uninvolved, Venus Maria told the girls exactly what she wished them to do, adding, somewhat apologetically, ‘It’s for a friend’s birthday, y’know. A special treat.’
‘Veree special,’ interjected Ron with a sly grin.
‘Shut up!’ hissed Venus Maria.
The girls were true professionals. They knew exactly what was expected of them. Stripping down to silky undergarments, they produced a lethal-looking vibrator and a bottle of scented oil, then entered the bedroom where Martin Swanson lay waiting.
Venus Maria estimated he’d been alone for twenty minutes. Long enough to drive him a little bit crazy.
She hurried to the two-way mirror she’d had specially installed.
‘Can I watch too?’ Ron begged, following her.
‘No, you can’t,’ she replied sternly. ‘Just wait and get these two girls out of here when I’m ready.’
‘Spoilsport!’
‘Since when did you like watching girls?’
‘Oh, I don’t care about them. It’s himself I wouldn’t mind taking a peek at.’
‘Ron! Behave yourself!’
Martin was still tied up when the girls entered the bedroom. Determined not to lose the bet, he didn’t move.
Tai and Lemon ignored him as they started in on each other. First they kissed. And then they touched nipples, delicately brushing silk against silk.
Breathlessly Venus Maria watched as Martin rose to the occasion.
Tai undid Lemon’s bra, and the pretty blonde’s breasts tumbled free, surprisingly large and firm.
Martin groaned.
Tai fixed her mouth onto a welcoming nipple.
Martin groaned louder.
Lemon divested herself of her panties. She had shaved her pubic area, and the skin there was very white.
Tai’s long dark hair swept downwards as she bent to kiss between Lemon’s legs. Obligingly Lemon spread wide.
‘Oh God, Venus!’ Martin managed, desperately trying not to move.
Tai stopped attending to Lemon, and unclipped her own bra before stepping out of her panties. Her black bush was forest thick – all the better for Lemon to return the favour and bury her blond curls.
Venus Maria could see Martin was desperate for release. His penis stood erect and ready. But still he didn’t break the bonds.
Tai stepped back from Lemon, took the bottle of oil, and squeezed it over both their breasts.
Then Lemon reached for the vibrator, switched it on, and held it to Tai’s pubic mound.
Martin reached orgasm, spurting all over himself.
‘God damn it!’ he muttered. ‘God damn!’
Time to do away with the entertainment. Venus Maria entered the room, waving the girls out.
They picked up their things and exited quickly.
‘Hmmm…’ Venus Maria stared mesmerizingly at her prisoner. ‘You’ve been a bad boy. Look at the mess you’ve made.’
‘Come here,’ he said desperately.
‘Wait!’ she commanded.
‘Come here!’ he insisted.
She walked slowly into the bathroom, came back with a fluffy white towel, and wiped him clean.
‘Not such a big shot on campus, after all,’ she sighed.
‘You’re unbelievable!’
‘I try to please.’
‘I want to fuck you.’
‘What else is new?’
‘I want to—’
‘What?’
‘Spend more time with you.’
‘That’s nice.
How about your wife?’
‘She’s in New York.’
‘I know.’
‘Come here, Venus. Untie me. All bets are off.’
She glanced at her Cartier tank watch, a present from Martin last time he was in town. ‘You have another thirty-five minutes to go.’
‘I want out.’
‘Pay me.’
‘No way.’
‘Then… stay where you are and keep quiet. A bet is a bet is a bet is a—’
‘I know what a bet is.’
She had on denim cut-offs and a white T-shirt. Standing at the end of the bed she did a slow strip. Underneath she wore crotchless red lace panties and a cut-out black leather bra. Hooker gear designed to excite.
Stretching her arms into the air she grinned provocatively. ‘I think I’ll go see Cooper,’ she said.
Martin broke the silk scarves with one bound and was on her like a randy New York tycoon.
‘You’re something else,’ he said.
‘And so are you,’ she whispered softly. ‘So are you.’
Chapter 32
Harry Browning took his time deciding what he should do about Luce. He brooded about it on and off for a couple of weeks before approaching her. He couldn’t help noticing her promotion. All of a sudden this strange woman who’d entered the studio as Sheila Hervey’s niece was suddenly ensconced as Mickey Stolli’s personal secretary. And where was Olive? The rumour was she’d broken her leg and was not coming back for a while. How convenient.
Harry waited until Luce was sitting alone in the commissary one lunchtime and then he approached her.
She glanced up at him. ‘Hello, Harry.’
He sat down at her table without being invited. ‘What are you up to?’ he demanded accusingly.
She stared straight at him. Two more weeks to go and she was out of this charade. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said calmly.
He fiddled with his spectacles, took them off, cleaned them with a napkin, and put them on again. ‘What exactly are you up to?’ he repeated excitedly. ‘I know it’s something.’
Lucky remained cool. ‘I’m not getting your drift.’
‘I’m no fool,’ Harry Browning said agitatedly. ‘You lured me to your apartment, got me drunk, and tried to wheedle information out of me.’
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