by Paul Preston
I’ll just deny everything, hire a real good lawyer, and keep Cal State out of it. He’s a troubled kid, there were no witnesses, it’s just his word against mine, and it’ll all blow over in a few months…
Luckily, the Head Couch did not leave him a message about the article. He probably didn’t read it.
Oh that’s right, Head Coach can’t read…
Buquet chuckled to himself. There was one last message from some yahoo’s assistant about a donation. He played it again, jotted down the number on a scrap of paper and made a mental note to himself to email the fundraising guys about it.
If some rich wanna-be coach wants to make a donation to stand on the sidelines for a few plays and they stay out of my way, I got no problem with that.
He had fifteen minutes before the morning meeting and grabbed a cup of coffee. As he stood around the coffee maker, swallowing the rancid black oil, he had an idea.
What if the donation is legit? A big fat check from a booster might change the conversation with Reegan and brighten everyone’s day around here. Might as well call the guy back, at least.
He went back to his office and shuffled papers around on his desk, trying to find the scrap of paper where he had written down the number.
Did I throw it out?
Buquet was annoyed with the new-fangled voice mail system ever since they installed it a few years ago. He could never figure out how to retrieve a message he had already listened to and erased.
God-Dammit!
Finally, he found the scrap of paper on the floor. He picked it up and dialed the number. Firmin picked it up after two rings.
“Williamson Investments and Real Estate Services. Andre Firmin here.”
“Yeah, Mr. Firmin. This is Coach Buquet, returning your call. What can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Coach Buquet. How are you today?”
“Fine. Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes. I got your message. You said something about a donation?”
“Yes, Coach Buquet. Let me get Mr. Williamson on the phone. Please hold.”
Firmin handed his cell to Williamson, and after a short moment, Phillipe spoke in a loud boisterous voice.
“Williamson here!”
“Hi, Mr. Williamson. It’s Coach Buquet. Your assistant mentioned something about a donation…”
Hearing the man’s voice after thirty two years made Williamson shudder. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Williamson? Are you there?”
“I’m here…”
“Look, I’m about to go into a meeting, but I wanted to give you the name of the person at the university that handles charitable contributions and the address to send—”
“Hold it right there, partner! Not even a ‘Hi, how are doing, how the hell are ya?’ Just, ‘Here’s the address you can send the check?’ Why didn’t you just say, ‘Bend over buddy so I can stick it in!’ Is this how Cal State does business with a potential donor? I’m very disappointed in you, Buquet…”
Buquet was taken aback by the directness and language of the man. Most of the boosters he talked to were timid men, always kissing his ass for some favor. For a lousy donation, not even enough to replace the worn-out exercise equipment, they always wanted something. Usually it was a scholarship for their son or maybe a photograph with the coach before a big game. This guy sounded different.
What did this guy want?
“Sorry to be so abrupt, Mr. Williamson. I’ve had a shitty morning. I’ve got an important meeting starting in ten minutes—”
“You know who I just hung up with Buquet to take your goddamn call? Warren Fucking Buffett! So I think you can take a few minutes to talk to me before you go into your meeting to try to figure out a way for State not to drop their fourth game in a row for the first time since the mid-nineties. Otherwise, listen closely and you’ll hear the sound of me ripping the two checks I just wrote for 1 Million Dollars apiece to the school and to that fine kid’s program you—”
Buquet’s heart seemed to stop beating in his chest.
“Excuse me, how much did you say?”
“You heard me. 2 million. Split equally between the university and that Safe Haven outfit you started. But I can understand if you’re too busy to talk to me about—”
“Hold on, Mr. Williamson—”
“Call me Phillipe for Christ’s Sake!”
Williamson let out a loud laugh. It was so loud and prolonged Buquet had to hold his ear away from the phone.
OK, he is a fucking booster. A little crazy perhaps, but a booster with money.
“Listen, Phillipe. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here.”
“What the fuck is going on with State! Preseason, you were ranked in the top ten. Now you’re not even on the map.”
“I know, Phillipe, I know. We’ve had one hell of an effed-up year; it’s been one thing after another. We’ve had a rash of injuries—”
“I tell you, Coach, I’m not an emotional man, but when I saw that kid go down with the rotator cuff injury… what’s his name?”
“Bradley?”
“Yeah, it literally brought tears to my eyes. Here’s a kid, breaks the NCAA passing records last year, comes in second in the Heisman voting, foregoes the draft to finish his senior year to get his worthless college degree, then has a career threatening injury because your blind side lineman misses a block. Shit, that must’ve scarred the kid, like a knife being slowly dragged across the skin. You know what I mean, Buquet?”
“I know, Phillipe, I felt the same way. It was a damn shame for the kid and his family. I recruited him, you know.”
“No, I did not know that. You must have an eye for talent, it seems. You really know how to pick out and isolate the right kids.”
Williamson wiped the sweat off his forehead and his eyes burned with intensity, picturing him on the other end of the line, hearing the familiar voice, remembering the pain…
“Thank you, Phillipe. I like to think so. But injuries have just killed us this year. It’s not like the old days. Every time a kid gets tackled hard he gets tested for a concussion, we have to keep him out of the line-up, it is an effing pain in the ass—”
“Hey, look at it this way. At least you’re not the Lakers!”
“The Lakers! Don’t even go there!”
“They get four all-stars, we all think it’ll be a cake-walk, Nash gets injured, they start losing, fire the coach in the first week, hire D’Antoni—”
“They should’ve hired Jackson! Why’d they interview him if they weren’t going to hire him? He’s got the rings!”
Williamson smiled when he heard the coach shout on the phone.
Reel him in. Reel him in.
“Now there are trade rumors out on Gasol.”
“They’re not fitting the offensive scheme for the players they’ve got. When he recovers from the tendonitis, put the big man in the post!”
“I couldn’t agree more, Coach. Did you read that shit yesterday about blaming Kobe for all the problems? He’s the league’s top scorer!”
“I agree with you completely, Phillipe. That article was a lot of horse-shit. Maybe when Nash comes back in a few weeks, he’ll be able to dish it around, find the open man. Maybe they’ll peak at the right time, sneak in as the eighth seed, do some damage in the playoffs, if everyone stays healthy, of course.”
“I hope so, Coach. I hope so. Listen, I’ve taken up too much of your time already. Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I got a board meeting over at Safe Haven; it should last until around 7. Why?”
“After talking to you, I want to pull the trigger on these donations.”
“That’s extremely generous of you, Mr. Williamson. The University’s student athletic programs and Safe Haven will be substantially enhanced by the endowment. I’m sure there are some naming opportunities on various buildings around the—”
“Listen, thank you, but I don’t need any of that shit. All I need is this. I’m old sc
hool, Coach. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you, but I like to look in the eyes of the man before I hand over a fortune of my hard earned money. I have an entertainment club I own. It’s a little out of the way, so if you don’t mind I’d like to have my assistant Andre Firmin pick you up at Safe Haven in my limo at 7:30 and bring you over to the Club as my guest for the 8:00 show. Have Firmin fix you a drink on the way over, the limo is stocked with booze. I’ll meet you at the club and after we enjoy the performance and have a few drinks, I’ll hand over the checks. What do you say, Coach?”
“You know, Phillipe, it’s not a pain in the ass at all. It sounds like fun. I’ll be waiting at Safe Haven at 7:30.”
“Great. It’s set. Now go to your meeting and tell the goddamn head coach of yours to get his head out of his ass and score some points this Saturday. More points than the other guys, preferably. Oh yeah, one last little thing. Did you physically abuse that kid I read about in today’s paper, Buquet?”
When the coach heard those words out of the blue, it was like getting smacked on the side of the head, again.
He read it. He knows about it…
He breathed in to respond, but at first, no words came out. And then the coach recovered quickly.
“Oh, you saw that, huh? My lawyers are preparing a counter-suit. Of course, I didn’t touch him, Phillipe. I was trying to help the fucking kid, not hurt him. It’s just a money grab by the parents. It’ll all blow over in a few weeks.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. See you at the show tonight, Coach.”
Williamson ended the call and called Luman.
“Luman, the meeting is set. Call me throughout the day. Trace his movements and let me know when he’s on the move. Stay on his ass like white on rice. Don’t lose him.”
“I won’t, sir,” Luman said.
“After the subject arrives at Safe Haven, you’ll drive back to the condo, pick up Andre and drive immediately back to Safe Haven and pull the limo up to the front of the building at precisely 7:30.”
“Yes, sir,” Luman said.
Williamson turned to Cogworthy.
“Cogworthy, I need you to watch Carlotta very closely. If you feel she’s in any physical danger, we abort the mission. You keep your eyes on her before and especially after the show. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight. Take the SUV. It’s parked in the garage. Here are the keys. And for God’s Sake, drive safely.”
“I will. Don’t worry, I won’t let her get hurt, boss,” Cogworthy said, handing the keys to the limo to Firmin.
“Andre, we have several errands to run to prepare for the arrival of my old friend this evening. Come with me…”
Williamson paced purposefully toward the elevator and Firmin followed close behind.
An hour later, Carlotta awoke and found Williamson’s long note and scenario for the show. She read through each page once, then twice, blinking back tears when she read about the abuse Williamson suffered as a child. After she was finished, she leaned back against her pillows and pressed the papers firmly against her breasts. Tears slipped out of her eyes and slid down her cheeks and she smiled to herself.
I’m in love with him. I’ve fallen in love with him. I’m alive. I feel alive again.
Carlotta texted Firmin immediately.
“I’m in.”
She got out of bed and searched for lingerie and shoes to wear for the show. Carlotta wandered around the condo, looking in various closets for a bra and garter set she liked. She also looked in a few bathrooms and found some makeup she could use for the show. In the medicine cabinet of Williamson’s bathroom she found a few empty pill bottles and looked at their labels. She pocketed one in her bathrobe, went to the dining room and joined Cogworthy for some coffee and breakfast.
Luman called Williamson in the late afternoon, reporting that he had followed Buquet to his home, then ten minutes later trailed him to Safe Haven where he had just observed him entering the front door. Williamson told Luman to return to the condo, pick up Firmin there in thirty minutes and then drive the limo back over to Safe Haven and pull up in front of the building to pick up Buquet at 7:30 as planned. After the 8:00 show, Williamson instructed Luman to drive the new waitress named Christine safely back to his building, pick up the keys to Unit 908 from the front desk and escort her into her new condo.
After visiting several stores and picking up everything he needed, Firmin dropped Williamson off in front of the Adam and Eve Club. Firmin drove back to Williamson’s condo to rendezvous with Luman and place the gifts Williamson had just purchased for Christine in Unit 908, especially the big surprise.
Williamson went in to the club, carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder with the items he had just bought. There was no one there yet. After cutting through several thick black cables in the security office, he disappeared into the dark and shadowy subterranean passageways of the theater.
Christine arrived at the theater a few hours later and met Cindy, who showed her how to set up the tables for the evening’s performances. Cindy introduced Christine to the two bartenders on shift and walked her through the process of ordering drinks and ringing the orders up in the computer system attached to the bar. Although Christine was nervous, it didn’t seem too complicated. She began to get excited about her new job.
Cogworthy drove Carlotta to the theater about an hour before the 8:00 show. She met with the make-up artist and undressed down to her G-string. She stood in front of the mirror while the makeup artist began working on her. Armond arrived and Carlotta met the attractive young man scheduled to perform the role of her Dom for the evening. He had received the scenario and studied it carefully. Carlotta liked him and felt comfortable with him almost immediately. Armond was particularly excited about the performance.
“I like the scenario. It’s kind of like an actual play, isn’t it?”
“It is. Oh, by the way, before the intercourse scene at the end, put a condom on, I’m ovulating,” Carlotta said.
“Yes, of course. No problem. Also, I had a question. How are we going to do the bit about the cutting of the skin?” Armond asked.
The make-up artist went over the effect with Armond and Carlotta. He had filled two flesh-colored latex condoms with stage blood and tied the ends in a knot. He stretched them across the back of Carlotta’s upper thighs and taped them hidden in the skin under her cheeks. He expertly applied makeup to blend the latex into her skin. Armond practiced the effect with Carlotta until he felt comfortable slicing open the condom with the tip of a knife and spilling out the fake blood. After wiping down her sticky red legs with a wet towel, the make-up artist taped two new condoms filled with fake blood and blended in the make-up to hide the condoms under the folds of her cheeks. Armond studied his scenario further while the make-up artist continued to apply Carlotta’s sexy make-up and style her hair for the show. The artist covered up the blue marks Williamson made on Carlotta’s neck with makeup.
Cindy took Christine down into the dressing room to find some sexy clothes for her to wear, so she would match all the other waitresses, and to help her apply some make-up. The first thing Christine saw as she entered the brightly lit room was the reflection in the mirror of an extraordinarily attractive woman with long thick blond hair sweeping over her shoulder, the tendrils falling upon the pale white flesh of her full breasts.
She’s so pretty…
Christine had never seen breasts so lovely before. She had the desire right then to walk over to her, shut her eyes and rest her cheeks in between her soft cleavage and gently hold the curved sides of her breasts in her palms and not let them go. She had never felt that way before about a woman’s body, but Carlotta’s breasts were so pretty, it was hard to take her eyes off them. She felt weak inside, short of breath and a little dizzy. Christine was mesmerized by their perfect rounded form with pert hard nipples that seemed to be pointed only at her. As she gazed at Carlotta, Cindy helped Christine undress, taking off her blouse, bra and skirt. Christine stood nearly nak
ed in the dressing room, still staring at Carlotta, as Cindy picked out a sexy outfit for her.
Carlotta felt eyes upon her. Out of the corner of her eye in the reflection of the mirror, she noticed a woman with green eyes staring at her. The woman saw she was caught and she cast her glance down at her feet, ashamed. Carlotta noticed how uniquely beautiful the woman looked, standing naked in the reflection. Carlotta admired her copper-colored hair and petite girlish physique.
Was she staring at me? I wonder who she is… She’s very cute.
Carlotta watched as another woman pulled white sheer stockings up Christine’s shaved slender legs and thighs, admiring how artfully curved and feminine her hips were. As Carlotta’s eyes moved up her delicate torso, she was particularly attracted to how the woman’s nubile breasts seemed to defy gravity and raise upward off her torso. Her swollen light pink aureoles protruded out from the white flesh and her nipples pointed heavenward, as if molded into a cone shape after years of being sucked upon. Carlotta felt damp inside her thighs in a way she never felt before during the numerous girl on girl sex scenes she performed in, with large-breasted actresses whose plastic surgery always made her feel she was fondling a balloon, rather than the natural flesh of a woman.
Carlotta wondered what the woman’s breasts would feel like in her hands and what her puffed aureoles would feel and taste like in her mouth. Even though she was older than her, she had a frail and youthful appearance, like a shy teenage girl. It made Carlotta feel a strange nervousness and vulnerability inside, as she stared at the woman.
When Christine looked up, the woman in the reflection was boldly staring back at her.
Had she noticed me?
Christine made tentative eye contact with the pretty woman. When Christine caught Carlotta staring at her breasts and licking the saliva on the sides of her lips, Christine gazed down at Carlotta’s lovely breasts in the mirror. Carlotta smiled sweetly and winked at her. Christine’s cheeks turned crimson and she looked away in embarrassment.