by Judith Gould
Finally the monster, whose name was Voula, called her to the back. Jenny noticed that she watched her closely, looking at her as if she were some sort of specimen that she found particularly distasteful. She was slightly unnerving, but Jenny got up and stretched, making certain that her breasts strained against the front of the lightweight T-shirt she’d worn. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and knew that the impression her nipples made on the fabric was clearly visible for all to see. At the same time, her T-shirt, which hung just short of her belly button, rose up to fully expose the gold ring with which it was pierced. She hoped the diamond stud on the ring blinked in the light.
Voula watched Jenny’s show, then led her to the back, where she introduced her to Dr. Santo.
He shook Jenny’s hand and asked her what had brought her to the hospital.
“I was dancing last night for a long time,” Jenny replied, “and this morning my feet were burning. They still are, and it’s all I can do to walk.”
“Maybe those stiletto-heeled mules aren’t the best shoes to wear under the circumstances,” Luca observed. “They put a strain on your feet, besides which, they slap against them every time you take a step.”
Jenny shrugged. “What’s a girl to do? I didn’t come prepared for something like this.”
“Well,” he said, “have a seat on the examination table and let me have a look.”
Jenny slid up onto the paper-covered, padded table and put her hands down on it, thrusting her breasts forward at the same time. If he noticed anything, he didn’t let on. She spread her legs as far apart as she could in the micro-miniskirt she was wearing. Since she had no underwear on, he should have a very good view, she thought, if he looked in that direction.
“Take off your shoes for me, please,” he said, sliding a chair over toward her and sitting down.
Jenny leaned down and slipped off first one stiletto, then the other. She wiggled her toes. “Oh, they’re so sore,” she complained. “What am I going to do tonight? I mean, if you can’t dance on this ship, what the hell are you supposed to do?”
“I don’t want to tickle you,” he said, carefully taking one foot in a latex-gloved hand.
“Ooooh,” Jenny cooed. “Is that a proposition?”
Luca ignored her comment and examined first one foot, then the other. He kept his eyes averted from the view up her thighs. When he was finished, he announced, “You have a classic case of rug burn, Ms. . . . Ms. . . . ?”
“Jenny,” she said. She wriggled her ass on the paper, then stretched her arms, pulling her T-shirt tight again and exposing her belly button ring with its diamond.
“The best thing for you to do,” he said, “is soak them in cool or cold water a few times a day, and I’m going to give you some ointment to use on them. They’ll just be a source of discomfort for another couple of days, then be good as new.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jenny asked.
He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Of course, if they should start bothering you more or become especially painful, don’t hesitate to come back, but I don’t think you’ll have any problems with them. Also, you might try to give them a couple of days of rest.” He smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t do too much barefoot dancing on the rugs for awhile.”
“That’s a tall order,” Jenny said, “because I’m a dancing fool.” She made a pout. “I guess I’m just going to have to keep my feet up, huh? Maybe in bed. What do you think?” She looked at him provocatively.
Luca was becoming embarrassed by her overt flirting. He had experienced it countless times, both in and out of his office. It was a professional hazard—it went with the territory.
“There’s something else,” Jenny said. “I didn’t mention it before because I thought I’d wait till I got home to see about it, but . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe you could take a look for me?”
“What’s that?” Luca asked.
“I think I feel a little lump in my breast,” Jenny said. “You know, I check them regularly to see if I feel anything out of the ordinary.”
“A lump?” he said. “You’re certain?”
“Not completely, no,” she replied. “But it’s so hard to know. I keep thinking I feel something in my left breast. Maybe you could see if you feel something.”
“Of course,” Luca responded, wondering if this was simply another sexual ploy. “Would you take off your T-shirt for me, please?”
Jenny immediately began sliding the T-shirt up over her head.
“Wait,” Luca said. “Let me give you a gown to cover yourself.” He quickly took a hospital gown off a hook on the back of the door. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Put this on, please. With the opening in the back.”
His eyes were averted from her, and Jenny could tell that this was going to be more difficult than she’d imagined. She finished taking off her T-shirt, then sat bare-breasted before slipping the gown on as he’d instructed.
“Are you done?” he asked from a desk where he made himself busy looking through some papers.
“Yes,” she said.
He approached her, the latex gloves still on his hands. “You say it’s the left breast?”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “Definitely the left one.”
“This will only take a moment,” he said. “My hand may feel cold at first.”
“That’s okay,” Jenny said. “I’ll warm you up.”
Ignoring her, he slipped his hand beneath the gown and began examining her breast, moving it this way and that, feeling for any indication that there was a lump within the mass.
Jenny spread her legs, making certain that they brushed against him, but he deftly moved aside. In a matter of moments, he slipped his hand back out and sat down again. “I don’t feel anything,” he replied, “but you might want to see your doctor as soon as you get home. Just in case I’ve missed something.”
She was a beautiful girl with a spectacular figure, he thought, but he knew it wasn’t all natural, because he’d felt an implant. It was a shame that she felt the need to throw herself at men the way she did. If she was friends with Crissy, she must be nice otherwise.
“Okay,” Jenny said. “I’ll make an appointment as soon as I get back.”
“Good,” he said.
Before he realized what was happening, Jenny slipped the gown off her shoulders and sat with her breasts exposed before him. Her chin was raised defiantly, and her legs were spread wide. She licked her lips slowly, looking at him with a come-hither expression.
“Please get dressed,” Luca said, turning away. “The nurse will give you the ointment.”
Jenny felt as if she’d been slapped. She yanked on her T-shirt and slipped into her heels. The son of a bitch, she thought. Who does he think he is? When she was ready, she went back out into the reception area, heading toward the door.
Voula called to her. “Miss! Miss!”
Jenny turned to face her.
“Your ointment. Wait a moment while I get it, please.”
“Keep it,” Jenny said. “It’s probably snake oil anyway.” She opened the door and swept out of the office. I’ll get even with that prick if it’s the last thing I do, she thought. I’m going to make his fucking life miserable.
Chapter Eleven
Crissy was surprised by her first glimpse of Monaco. After the beauty of the coastline up to this point, she decided that Monte Carlo was a modern blight on the landscape, its high-rise towers more befitting Manhattan than the Mediterranean shores.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Monika said enthusiastically. “It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”
“Is it really?” Crissy replied. “It’s so . . . so vertical.”
“Well, my darling,” Monika said, “they have to build up. There’s no room to build out.”
“It looks like they’ve used every square inch of land,” Crissy said, “and have left hardly a tree or plant.”
“Oh, you’ll be surprised,” Monika retorted. “There are a couple of lovely gar
dens and public squares with trees and plants.” She leaned over Crissy for a better view. Clapping her hands together, she said, “It’s so glamorous. I simply adore it.”
Crissy could see beautiful yachts moored in the famous harbor, and some of the older buildings looked quite grand, but she honestly couldn’t understand what Monika thought was so glamorous about it. Maybe on closer inspection she would change her mind, she thought.
“You can wear your jewelry here without any worries whatsoever,” Monika said. “Imagine. Millions of dollars’ worth, if you like, without giving it a thought.”
“Why’s that?” Crissy asked.
“The police, of course,” Monika said. “And cameras. They’re absolutely everywhere, watching, watching, watching. Thieves don’t dare bother one here. They’re simply not tolerated. And it’s clean,” she said. “It’s so clean and tidy. Oh, you’re going to love it. I know you are.”
The bus took them to an underground parking garage, and when they got off it, they took an escalator up to ground level. An immense belle epoque building sprawled before them.
“What is this?” Crissy asked.
“Oh,” Monika said dismissively, “that’s the Oceanographic Institute. Jacques Cousteau’s place. They have these huge fish tanks with all sorts of terrifying creatures in them.”
“Oh, I have to see it,” Crissy said.
Monika looked at her in alarm. “That’s preposterous,” she said. “There’s the casino and the lovely Hôtel de Paris and the Hermitage. You mustn’t waste your time with the fish, my darling.”
“But I’ve read that this place is fabulous.”
Rudy, Mina, and Dr. Von Meckling drew up to them. “Well, are you ready to walk to the casino?” Mina asked.
“Quite,” Monika said.
“I want to see the Oceanographic Institute,” Crissy said. “Could I meet you there?”
“Of course,” Rudy said.
“You’re making a mistake,” Monika said, “but you’ll discover that for yourself. We’ll watch for you.”
They walked off in the direction of the casino, and Crissy went to the ticket booth for the Oceanographic Institute. She wandered among the tanks, some of them giant, others small and built into the walls. She was drawn to the astonishingly beautiful colors of the different sea creatures or in some cases the forms they took. She lost all track of time exploring the exhibit, losing herself in this extraordinary display of nature at its most colorful and bizarre.
Rounding a corner from one room into another, she walked straight into Mark. She laughed in embarrassment, and he smiled in his smug way.
“Sorry about bumping into you, but I was so caught up in the exhibits I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“It is a fantastic place, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yes, I love it,” she agreed. “I’d read about it, but had forgotten it was here. Everybody talks about the casino and the palace and stuff like that. I’m sure they’re very nice, but this is out of this world.”
“Actually, this is very much in this world,” he said, “and that’s one of the things I like about it. This is the natural world and its beauty on display. It is not artificial like the beauty you’ll see in the casino.”
“I’m going to try to see that, too,” Crissy said.
“This is your first time in Monte Carlo?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh, then you should see the casino and that area. The Hôtel de Paris, the Hermitage. They’re lovely. And you can’t miss the harbor. There are some of the world’s most beautiful yachts anchored there.”
“I saw it from the bus coming down into the city,” Crissy said.
“Why don’t you let me walk you to the casino?” Mark said. “I know Monte Carlo well, and since you don’t have much time, I can point out the highlights.”
“I’m supposed to meet some friends at the casino,” Crissy said. She wasn’t certain that she wanted to spend time with Mark.
“Then I’ll walk with you there, if you don’t mind,” he said. “Remember? I don’t bite.”
Crissy laughed. Why not at least walk that way with him? “Okay, I’ll walk with you, since you promise not to bite.”
“Wonderful.”
They took the elevator up and went out through a large room in which ship models were exhibited. Outside, he offered her his arm, and Crissy took it.
“It’s not far,” he said, “and we can get a closer look at the yachts in the harbor on the way.”
“You seem to like boats,” Crissy said. “I remember the first day we boarded, you knew a lot about the Sea Nymph.”
“You are observant. I am obsessed with boats,” Mark said. “I love them.”
“Do you have a favorite?” she asked.
“That’s an impossible question to answer,” he replied, “because there are so many different kinds for so many different purposes. But I love sailing yachts. Those that Camper & Nicholson make are beautiful. And Perini. I love the old Feadship motoryachts. The Wally and Benetti and Baglietto yachts. The Riva speedboats, of course. The old Greek caïques. I love nearly all boats, you see.” He turned to her and grinned. “Even canoes and sunfish and rowboats.”
His enthusiasm was apparent, and she could see that he really did love boats. They began climbing stairs that would take them up toward the casino, and when they reached a terraced area, he pointed in the direction of the harbor. “Look,” he said.
Crissy looked toward the harbor. Many of the yachts were huge and beautifully designed. All of them appeared to be like Monte Carlo itself, immaculately kept. “They’re quite impressive,” she said.
“This harbor has been home to some of the greatest ever built,” Mark said, somewhat wistfully she thought. “It still is, although it’s changed some since the days of the famous feuds between Niarchos and Onassis.”
“What kind of feuds?” she asked.
“Size,” he said, looking at her with a mischievous smile. “Actually, yacht size. You know, who has the biggest toy? There were feuds between others as well. The Americans, Revson and Lefrak. The same sort of games are played today, but the names are different. The costs have multiplied, too, of course. See that white yacht moored at the end across the port?” He pointed toward it.
Crissy nodded. “Yes.”
“That would run over forty million dollars, but it doesn’t include the special touches. The maintenance alone runs several more million a year.”
“I can’t even imagine such a thing,” Crissy said. She looked back at him. “I’d better get to the casino,” she said. “We don’t have a long time here.”
He offered her his arm again, and they continued up the granite steps toward the casino. When they reached the top, Crissy saw a small street of shops. Gucci and Prada were there, and she thought of Jenny. She would be disappointed to hear that she’d missed an opportunity to pick up merchandise from two of her favorite retailers. There were also antiques dealers with museum-quality pieces in their windows. They passed the lovely Hermitage Hotel and around the corner stood in front of the Hôtel de Paris, where Bentley and Rolls-Royce cars were lined up as if they were waiting taxis. She’d never seen so many in one place before. The casino was katty-corner to the grand hotel, and across from the casino was the Café de Paris, where dozens of tables were set out on the sidewalks around it.
“This really does have a fairy-tale quality,” Crissy said, “even if you can see the high-rises all around.”
“Yes,” Mark agreed. “Some people’s idea of a fairy-tale place anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know what they say about Monte Carlo.” His lips formed a slight smile. “It’s a sunny place for shady people.”
Crissy laughed. “I didn’t know that.” She looked at him. He didn’t join in her laughter, and his smile had disappeared., replaced by a strange expression.
“How would you like to go to the casino?” he asked. “There a
re salons privées where we could have a drink together without all the tourist riffraff around. At this time of day, there probably wouldn’t be anyone around.”
“I don’t know . . .” Crissy began. She didn’t like the look on his face, nor did she like being referred to as tourist riffraff.
He grabbed her arm. “Come on,” he said irritably. “You’ve played this waiting game long enough.”
“I’m not playing a game, Mark,” she replied.
“Of course you are,” he said arrogantly, increasing the pressure on her arm.
“I think I’d better go,” she said.
“No. Come with me. Now.” His fingers dug into her arm sharply.
“Let go of me,” she said, her voice louder than she’d intended.
Mark quickly looked about, then relinquished his hold of her. “Fine,” he said. “Go.”
Crissy gazed up at him for a moment, and the superior smile she’d seen before appeared on his lips. He didn’t say anything, and she turned and walked away. She would try to find Monika and the others, but the joy had gone out of the day, replaced by the distinct sensation that she’d had a brush with something—someone—strange and distasteful.
The ship was surprisingly lively when they boarded, and Crissy discovered that most of the passengers for the trans-Atlantic voyage had gotten on board in Nice. There had been less than two hundred, and now there were nearly eight hundred. Promising to see everyone at dinner, Crissy went to the cabin to shower and change. The day had been a very busy one, fascinating but tiring, and she welcomed the opportunity to refresh herself.
Jenny was sprawled on her bed, filing her fingernails.
“Hi,” Crissy said, smiling. “How are your feet?”
“Oh, they’re okay,” Jenny said in a pouty voice.
“Did you get something at the hospital for them?”
“Yeah,” Jenny said, absorbed in her nails. “I think that doctor is a first-class pervert, but he gave me something.”