Lovers and Gamblers

by Jackie Collins

  ‘What for?’ responded Al. ‘It’s private here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Dana.

  ‘In that case it’s everyone in the raw.’

  ‘I’d love to photograph the event, but I think Paul and I will sit this one out. Is it all right if we use the swimming pool?’ Linda took Paul’s hand and pulled him up. ‘OK with you?’

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Paul replied, almost reluctantly. There had once been a time, in the early days, when identical twins would have meant a good time for both of them. Al had always been the puller but Paul had never been averse to joining in. Until he grew up. Al never grew up.

  ‘Well, girls,’ announced Al expansively, ‘lead me to your boat, and if you’re good girls you can put on a ski each.’

  ‘Don’t you mono ski?’ asked Cara in patronizing tones.

  ‘The hell with the fancy stuff. I like to keep it simple.’

  ‘Naturally,’ drawled Dana.

  She would be the first to get it, Al decided. Stuck-up rich little snob.

  Cara drove the Riva while Dana and Al skied. Both girls were wearing bikinis under their tennis whites. Al had ended up in his Y-fronts feeling slightly foolish. Dana, of course, only needed one ski, whilst Al, next to her, felt clumsy and inadequate on two.

  Cara zoomed the speedboat expertly across the sea until at last she cut the engine, and Al and Dana subsided into the water. Dana slipped easily out of her ski and had swum to the boat long before Al came struggling aboard, trailing his skis behind him.

  As he climbed into the Riva he noticed both girls had discarded the tops of their bikinis. It didn’t make much difference as they were both built like boys. Four indifferent, identical tits. He grinned, thought – what the hell – and slid out of his ridiculous wet Y-fronts.

  Dana was busy rolling a joint. ‘Hey – hey—’ she exclaimed, ‘the legend lives!’

  Cara turned to stare, running a small pink tongue nervously across her lips.

  The boat rocked gently in the waves. The sun had cut through the mist, and Cara started to lay out striped mattresses on the back of the boat.

  ‘What have we got to drink?’ Al asked.

  ‘Champagne, of course,’ replied Dana, ‘isn’t that your favourite? In the ice box at the front.’

  He got out the champagne, popped the cork, found some glasses, and took it all to the back of the boat.

  They lay out on the mattresses, with him in the middle. Cara produced a tape recorder, and the sound of Al singing joined them. Dana passed the joint around. He declined.

  ‘I thought all musicians smoked,’ said Dana in surprise.

  ‘He’s not a musician,’ replied Cara dismissively. ‘Anyway, most of the over thirty-fives prefer to drink.’

  ‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ interrupted Al. ‘Grass doesn’t do anything for me, why the hell should it?’

  ‘Nobody’s forcing you. How about some coke? Believe me, skiing when you’re out of it on coke is a beautiful experience.’ So saying, Dana reached into a bag and produced a glass phial of white powder. She was wearing a small gold spoon on a chain around her neck, and she took off the chain, removed the spoon, filled it with white powder and snorted the stuff delicately and expertly into each nostril. ‘Here,’ she offered it to Al, ‘it’s the best.’

  Al fingered some cocaine from the spoon, snorted just a little. Why not? He had been working hard, he deserved some relaxation.

  Cara leaned across him to reach for the joint. He felt her nipples brush his chest. He looked down and watched himself harden. They all watched.

  ‘Random Love’ played loudly on the tape recorder.

  Nobody seemed in any kind of hurry. Al snorted a little more coke, took a drag on the joint. He was starting to feel really good.

  Cara took her glass and slowly tipped the champagne from it over his chest. He felt his nipples come erect, and Cara bent to lick the liquid off him. Dana joined in from the other side. He closed his eyes to the burning sun, sealing off the identical faces that were now administering to him from both sides.

  ‘Jesus!’ he muttered.

  ‘Good, isn’t it?’

  Their heads were travelling down in perfect unison, licking, biting, kissing. Then they were attending to his balls with feathery, identical tongues. It was an incredible sensation, so incredible that he could hardly bear it. He needed to screw, to jam it in. But which one first? Lazily he rolled towards Dana, but she shoved him away.

  They continued to work on him, slowly, methodically. It was sensational – but – ‘I’m going to come,’ he warned. He turned to reach Cara, but they held him down, and as he came, spurting all over himself, one of them snapped an amyl nitrate under his nose.

  His orgasm seemed to go on for ever as he jerked and thrust up into nothingness. It was amazing, but it was frustrating. All the times he couldn’t be bothered to screw, and now, when he wanted to, it was denied him. Still, he couldn’t complain. Although it was a strange sensation to come into nothingness.

  Slowly he opened his eyes. Cara and Dana watched him expectantly. ‘Good?’ they chorused.

  ‘Bloody good,’ he agreed.

  ‘Why don’t you wash off in the sea?’ Cara suggested.

  ‘Yes.’ He was covered in his own sperm. ‘There’s no sharks around here, are there?’

  ‘Only the human ones – inland,’ replied Dana coolly.

  He slipped over the side. The water was invigoratingly cold. He swam away from the boat. It felt good swimming in the raw, it always had, even when he was a kid and stripped off to swim in the canals. He did a strong crawl, dived under the water, couldn’t see much. Pity they didn’t have diving gear aboard – although they probably did – they seemed to carry everything else.

  He surfaced. The boat appeared to have drifted some distance away.

  ‘Hey!’ he yelled. But he couldn’t see the twins. What if there were sharks? He felt a small stab of panic. Rapidly he started to swim towards the boat. He felt tired, a bit muddled. It was all the champagne, the joint, the coke, the ammi. Jesus, he could collapse out here. What the fuck were they doing?

  He felt the sudden stab of cramp in his right side. It slowed him up. The boat was getting further away, the cramp was getting worse. Was it his imagination or was the sea getting rougher?

  ‘Hey!’ he screamed out. But nobody appeared to hear him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dallas stood in the doorway of Lew Margolis’s office staring at the man who had the power to create a marvellous new career for her.

  She pictured him not behind his marble desk, but at the door of his magnificent house in Bel Air, wearing nothing but a smile and an orange-coloured bathrobe.

  * * *

  A year ago. Lew Margolis. She had known him only as ‘Dukey’. Bobbie called all their clients ‘Dukey’. ‘Makes ’em feel wanted – kinda special,’ Bobbie explained. ‘Cancels out the hooker-dude relationship.’

  Who was she kidding?

  Dallas was nervous and edgy that evening. Things had already started with Ed Kurlnik, and if he ever found out what she really did… To protect herself on professional engagements, she tried to look as different as possible.

  Tonight she had tucked her long hair out of sight under a red afro wig. And she wore much more make-up than usual, and raunchy, hooker-type clothes.

  ‘Come in, ladies.’ Lew Margolis ushered them into a huge white living room.

  ‘She-e-et man, this is nice,’ approved Bobbie, already stoned out of her head. ‘Any other comers or is this just a cosy sweet stuff threesome?’

  ‘Just the three of us,’ replied Lew pleasantly. He was a man of about sixty with abundant dark hair and a prominent nose. He wore steel-rimmed glasses and walked with a limp.

  Dallas took in her surroundings quickly. Nice house. The guy obviously had bread. He wasn’t completely unattractive, so what did he need with them? She noticed two photo frames placed face down on a corner table. How man
y times had she seen that done. Mustn’t let the family watch.

  ‘So, Dukey, babe,’ trilled Bobbie, ‘give me the action, and we’re on.’

  ‘You two cunts get your clothes off.’ The pleasant tone had vanished from his voice.

  Bobbie smiled. ‘Money first, honey second. Three hundred for an hour. Fine with you, Dukey babe?’

  He reached in his bathrobe pocket, extracted a stack of notes, counted off three hundred, and handed it to Bobbie.

  She checked it through, stuffed it into her purse. ‘Seems cool to little ’ole me. Clothes off, girl.’

  Whilst Bobbie stripped provocatively and elaborately, Dallas peeled her clothes off quickly. Each time it became more difficult. She remained impassive and unsmiling, leaving the jokes and fun up to Bobbie.

  When they were both naked, his attention focused on Dallas.

  ‘Well?’ questioned Bobbie, hands on hips, legs astride. ‘What we gonna play? You wanna little show? Or maybe a massage? What’s it to be, man?’

  ‘Upstairs,’ he said thickly.

  He led them up to a beautiful bedroom, dominated by a king-size bed. On the wall there was a portrait of the film actress Doris Andrews, noted for her portrayal of ‘good girl’ parts.

  Lew flung open a closet of women’s clothes. ‘Dress yourselves,’ he commanded. ‘Everything. Tights. Panties. Bras. An outfit. It doesn’t matter if they fit or not.’

  It was a peculiar request. But Dallas was used to peculiar requests. She sorted through the shelves; drew on some black tights, found a pair of black lace knickers. Whoever the clothes belonged to had expensive taste. She chose a black silk bra, and it fitted her perfectly. Over the top she slipped on an Yves Saint Laurent suit.

  The clothes were much too big for Bobbie, and by the time she was dressed she looked ridiculous.

  Lew Margolis watched silently until they were both finished. Then he handed them two identical wigs, and told them to put them on. The wigs matched the hairstyle of the woman in the portrait exactly.

  ‘We’re going to play pretend,’ Lew said.

  ‘Like – wow!’ shrieked Bobbie. ‘Who you want me to pretend to be? Charlie Chaplin?’ She imitated Chaplin’s walk, then collapsed laughing on the floor.

  Lew Margolis didn’t smile. ‘Downstairs. In my study. I will be a dentist.’ He stared at Dallas. ‘You will be the patient. Mrs. M. And you—’ he indicated Bobbie, ‘just announce her.’

  ‘Sounds like fun…’

  They followed him downstairs, Bobbie making faces behind his back. He went into his study, closed the door.

  ‘This dude is fuckin’ nuts,’ whispered Bobbie, ‘a real head case. He wants us to look like his fuckin’ wife! Why, I bet it’s her clothes we got on. I bet…’

  ‘Announce her,’ shouted Lew, from behind the closed door.

  Bobbie knocked, waited for his ‘Come in.’

  ‘Mrs. M. for her dental appointment, sir.’

  ‘Show her in.’

  Dallas walked into the study. On the desk the photographs were face down.

  ‘Sit down, Mrs. M.,’ said Lew pleasantly, indicating a chair. ‘Nurse, help Mrs. M. to get comfortable. Take her jacket.’

  Bobbie helped Dallas off with her jacket. Lew had removed his orange bathrobe and was wearing a white dental coat and nothing else. ‘Wait outside, nurse. I’ll call if I need you.’

  Bobbie went out, shut the door.

  ‘Lean back, Mrs. M. I’ll just have a look at your teeth, see that everything’s all right. Now, open your mouth wide.’

  Dallas did as she was told. Then suddenly he leapt on a stool next to the chair and jammed his penis into her mouth. It was unexpected. She gagged, nearly choking.

  ‘Take it easy, Mrs. M.,’ he said soothingly. ‘It’s what you come here for, isn’t it? Everyone knows. Everyone. Even your husband. It’s the talk of Beverly Hills, how you’re fucking around on your husband. You whore!’

  They stayed three hours, collecting a total of nine hundred dollars. And they played doctor, hairdresser, dressmaker, head waiter, gynaecologist, gardener. And every game ended with his little speech about Mrs. M. wanting it, getting it, and everyone knew, even her husband.

  Driving them home Bobbie said, ‘Now there is a dude with some problem. Do you think the wife is out fuckin’ everything in sight?

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. I just hope I never have to see him again.’

  * * *

  Lew Margolis stood up from behind his marble desk. ‘Come in, sit down. Cody has told me lots of good things about you.’

  Slowly Dallas walked into the office. He hadn’t recognized, her – yet. But then of course she had the protection of her hat and shades. When she took those off…

  More than anything she felt bad about Cody finding out. He would feel so let down. She should have told him. But how did you casually reveal an item of information like that? Oh, by the way, Cody, forgot to mention it, it’s probably not important anyway, but I used to be a hooker. Worked doubles with a stoned black kid, we must’ve laid half of Hollywood.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Cody was saying excitedly. ‘Didn’t I warn you she was sensational? And who could be more right for the part?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Lew, ‘she is a lovely girl. How old are you, dear?’

  ‘Twenty.’ She took off her shades and stared at him, just as she had stared at the dentist, and the hairdresser, and the gynaecologist.

  ‘Perfect age.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Perfect everything.’

  ‘Thank you.’ With one gesture she removed the Stetson, and shook her mane of hair free.

  ‘Has she done anything?’ Lew asked Cody. ‘Is there any film on her we could see?’

  ‘An Al King television special and a commercial,’ replied Cody quickly. ‘I can arrange for you to see them within the hour.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lew, ‘but I imagine she photographs like she looks.’

  ‘On camera she’s even better.’

  ‘I don’t know about the name…’

  ‘It’s unusual.’

  ‘Yes, it’s unusual. Ever acted, Dallas?’

  She removed her jacket. Surely he would remember now? ‘I’ve acted quite often. I’ve been told I’m very good.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. You certainly look the part. Why don’t you run over to costume and make-up. We’re all set to shoot a test on you. All right with you, Cody?’

  ‘Fine, Mr. Margolis.’

  ‘You go with her. If the test hits the spot we’re in business.’

  Cody stood and extended his hand. ‘I think we’re going to be in business, Mr. Margolis.’

  The rest of the day seemed to pass in a dream. Dallas didn’t think she would have got through it if it weren’t for Cody. He didn’t leave her side, encouraging, admiring, boosting her confidence. And all the while she waited for Lew Margolis to suddenly remember.

  He didn’t. Anyway, if he did, it appeared to make no difference.

  She tested, doing three different scenes which she had to learn there and then. Cody led her through every word. ‘Unless you’re the worst actress in the world the part is yours,’ he confided, ‘and when they see the test and realize how great you are, that’s when I get called back to the big man’s office. And that, sweetheart, is when schmucky little agent, yours truly, Cody Hills, shafts them right between the two big ones. We go for broke. A million-dollar deal or nothing. That’s when you have to hang in there and trust me. They’ll kick, but in the end they’ll pay. And they can afford to.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Cody. By the way, is Lew Margolis married?’

  ‘Where have you been? He’s married to Doris Andrews. So you have no worries about bed being part of the deal. Why? He hand out any horny vibes?’

  ‘No, not at all. I just wondered.’

  ‘Wonder no more. Doris Andrews keeps a twenty-four-hour eye on Lew and him on her. No, you’ve got no problems with him – he’s straight.’

  Poor misinform
ed Cody. Lew never could tell him because by revealing her, he would reveal himself. Dallas sighed. Why couldn’t things be nice and simple?

  Two days later, as Cody had predicted, they called him in to negotiate. He told them what he wanted. They told him to forget it.

  Three days later Dallas signed a million-dollar deal to star in Man Made Woman.

  It was an option deal, but if they picked up on all options, and there was no reason to suppose that the series wouldn’t be a giant smash, then, as Cody comfortingly told her, she would not only be a huge star, but rich as well, with every opportunity to do the one movie a year her contract allowed.

  It was an exciting time. Much more exciting than winning some stupid beauty contest.

  Cody could not conceal his absolute delight and went around the entire time grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘I’m giving up the agency business,’ he informed her. ‘Going into production.’

  ‘Production?’ she questioned. ‘Production what?’

  ‘Our production company. You concentrate on becoming a star. I’ll concentrate on finding you the right property for your first movie.’

  ‘Hey, mister, hang on there. I may be a big flop.’

  ‘Man Made Woman will top the ratings. First season, you’ll see.’

  ‘Your confidence is very reassuring.’

  He took her hand, held it tightly. ‘Stick with me, it’s catching. Even my mother thinks you’re going to be a star.’

  ‘I’m going to try, God knows I’m going to try. I’ve dreamed about a chance like this.’

  ‘So has my mother!’

  She couldn’t help laughing. Cody, it seemed, could always make her laugh. She had started to lean on him, turning to him for advice on everything. He was looking at houses for her, something small to start off with, and then who knows? She had put herself entirely in his hands business-wise. But she trusted him absolutely. After all, he had started the whole thing.

  Cody Hills was the first man she had ever respected. Perhaps because from the very beginning he had always treated her nicely. No heavy come-on. No sexual hassle.

  Maybe sex with Cody might mean something. There had been no one since Kip Rey, and that had not been a happy scene. She didn’t crave sex, she didn’t even think about it. But she did want to let Cody know she was grateful for everything he had done. And to her way of thinking, sex was the only way to say thank you. So that evening, when they were enjoying a celebratory dinner, she suggested he come back to the hotel and spend the night.