by Philip Cox
Kirk decided to get out of the pool. As he did so, a young man appeared, dressed in trunks and carrying a hotel towel under his arm. The man headed straight for the young woman, leaned down to kiss her on the lips, then sat down on the lounger next to her. She looked up at him, they had a brief conversation, and returned to lying on her back, listening to her music. He did the same.
Kirk sighed. He had had enough, so he left the poolside and returned to his ninth floor room to change back. Inviting as it was, Kirk eschewed the room service menu and went down to one of the hotel restaurants. He ordered steak, medium rare, French fries, and succotash. The restaurant was half-empty and he dined unmolested.
After eating, he made his way to the other bar, where he ordered a Jim Beam and coke. As he had done the evening before, he sat on the barstool, nursing his drink, exchanging words now and again with the bartender. As he sat there, several guests came and went. Two men at the other end of the bar were having a heated and slightly drunken discussion about politics: one was a Democrat, the other clearly a card-carrying Republican. Two guests behind him were each having cell phone conversations: the first was a business call; the second was not. The second man was talking to his wife, telling her how much he loved and missed her and the children. As soon as he finished the call he returned to the booth he was sharing with a redhead in a short red dress.
Then Kirk smelt perfume. It was not a brand he recognised. He looked up and saw a very attractive girl making herself comfortable two stools away. She would have been around twenty-five, a figure to die for, heavy dark hair down to just below her shoulders. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and black pantyhose. She ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. Kirk watched the bartender mix the drink: the vodka, the gin, the rum and the tequila, then returned to his own glass.
‘Cheers,’ Kirk said, holding his own glass up as she put hers to her lips. She muttered something, took a sip and put the glass on the counter to fumble about her little matching black bag. She took out a small packet of Kools, and continued to fumble. Kirk continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Eventually she took a cigarette out and turned to him.
‘Excuse me, do you have a light?’
Kirk did not smoke, but always carried a lighter for occasions such as this. Shielding the flame with the palms of his hands, he lit the menthol cigarette.
As they made eye contact, Kirk had one thought.
It’s showtime.
Chapter 17
She sat back on the stool and took a deep drag from the cigarette. Pursed her lips and blew out a thin jet of menthol smoke. After a moment she held out the packet to Kirk; he declined.
‘Trying to give them up,’ he said disarmingly.
She nodded and put the pack back into her bag. Took another drag.
‘You here on business? she asked.
Kirk nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey and coke. ‘I’m here for the expo.’
‘What’s that?’
He sat back and took a deep breath. ‘At the LACC – the Conference Center. The International Drone Expo.’
‘Drone?’ she asked. ‘You mean…?’ She waved one hand around in a circular motion.
‘Yup. My company manufactures the batteries that go in the little suckers.’
‘Cool,’ she said, nodding her head, pretending to be impressed.
‘Yeah. I should say propane fuel cells, to be exact. We manufacture the D245XR solid oxide cell.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah, it’s cool,’ he agreed, nodding his head, reflecting on how useful the Drone Pilot magazine had been.
‘Where you from?’ she asked.
‘Atlanta, Georgia. You?’
‘Bay Area.’
‘Vacation?’ Kirk resisted the temptation to ask if she was there alone.
‘Kind of. I’m here with a girlfriend.’ She paused. ‘A girl friend, not a girlfriend, if you see what I mean.’
Kirk nodded.
‘She’s kind of an actress up there, came here for a couple of auditions.’
‘And you came with her for kind of moral support?’
The girl nodded. ‘Yup.’
Kirk offered his hand. ‘I’m Bill, by the way.’
‘Paula.’
They shook hands.
‘You got family in San Fran?’ Kirk asked.
Paula blew out more smoke. My mom does. Lives with some guy near the Presidio.’
‘Not your old man?’
She shook her head. ‘He left us when I was a kid. Haven’t seen him since.’
‘Siblings?’
‘What?’
‘Brothers or sisters?’
She shook her head again. ‘Just lil’ old me. What about you, Bill from Atlanta? You got a wife and kids back home?’
Kirk nodded enthusiastically. ‘I sure do. Married ten years. Three kids. You want to see a picture?’
Paula nodded while stubbing out her Kool. Kirk dove into his wallet and picked out a photograph of a woman and three children. ‘Here,’ he said, pointing at the figures in the picture, ‘that’s Emeline, my wife; that’s Tracey-Anne – she’s eleven now; that’s Bill Junior – he’s eight; that’s Darlene, who’s five.’
‘Nice,’ Paula said.
Kirk put the picture back. ‘Thanks.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Paula said.
‘What?’
‘Your eldest girl, she’s eleven?’
‘Yeah,’ said Kirk slowly.
‘And you guys have been married ten years?’
‘Yeah… now I see what you mean. Yeah, we were together a while before we got married.’
‘That must have been kind of uncomfortable for you; you know, having a kid and not being married. In Atlanta, I mean.’
Kirk paused a beat. ‘A little. Jeez, it was so long ago, I can hardly recall. Yeah, Emeline’s parents kept insisting.’ He looked around. ‘Your friend’s late.’
‘Guess she has to wait till the auditions are over.’
‘Where is the audition?’
She shrugged. ‘Somewhere in Hollywood, I guess.’ She nodded down to his empty glass. ‘You want another?’
‘Don’t mind if I do, thanks.’
‘What was it?’
‘Jim Beam and coke.’
Paula indicated over to the bartender.
‘Hold on,’ Kirk said. ‘I’ve had two already. I’ll just have mineral water.’
‘No, have something stronger. Have one more.’
‘I need a clear head. No, you’re right; I’ll have another. But make it a vodka and lemonade this time.’
Paula frowned. ‘Bill, you shouldn’t mix drinks.’
He held up his hands. ‘Okay, you win. Thanks.’
The bartender poured Kirk another whiskey and coke. Kirk took it and asked if she was having another.
‘Not yet,’ she replied holding her hand over her glass. ‘I’m pacing myself; it could be a long night if my friend’s audition goes well.’
Kirk laughed. ‘Yeah, could be.’ He got off his stool. ‘Just the men’s room. Back in a minute.’
‘Sure, Bill. I’ll still be here.’
Kirk headed over to the restrooms. There was a single door with a circular window which led to a small passage where the doors to the men’s and women’s rooms were. Kirk stopped in the passage and peered round to look through the circular window. He could see Paula still sitting at the bar with their drinks. She was on her phone, and had moved to the seat next to his. She briefly turned round to face the restroom door: Kirk ducked down and went into the men’s room.
He returned after a couple of minutes. Paula had lit another cigarette and was staring behind the bar. ‘Hey,’ she said as he got back.
‘You found your lighter?’ Kirk remarked.
‘Mm? Oh, yes. It was in my purse after all.’
Kirk picked up his drink and took in about half. He noticed the coke was still bubbling. ‘That’s good,’ he said, sounding contented.
She looked a
t him and smiled. ‘So, Bill,’ she asked. ‘What are you into?’
He took another mouthful. ‘What am I into? What do you mean: interests, hobbies?’ He lowered his voice and leaned towards her. ‘Or do you mean sexually?’
She shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
He swayed slightly on the stool. ‘Well, I like… drones,’ he said, laughing.
She laughed too, putting her hand on his upper leg. ‘I guessed you might.’
‘I’m not sure what else I like. Most stuff, I guess.’ He picked up his glass and stared into it. ‘I think I’ve had too many Jim Beams,’ he said, downing the contents. He looked over at her. ‘What was your name again?’ he said, laughing.
She smiled, another drag. ‘Paula.’ Now it was her turn to lower her voice. ‘But my friends call me Pinky.’ She leaned closer to him. ‘Bill, do you want to know why they call me Pinky?’
He turned to face her and, with mock seriousness, said, ‘Yes, that would be interesting.’
She got off her stool and took his arm. ‘Not here. Let’s go to your room. What number is it?’
‘Nine… nine…’
‘What room number, Bill?’
He took out his card. ‘Here you are: 918.’
Paula took the card and helped him walk to the elevator.
‘I’m feeling a little woozy,’ he slurred. ‘Shouldn’t have had that third one. Or was it the fourth?’
The elevator arrived and Paula guided him in. Kirk leaned against the elevator wall as they ascended, the lights of Downtown LA receding as they climbed. Paula fiddled with her phone, looking up at Kirk and smiling.
She led him down the corridor to 918 and slid the card into the lock. The light flashed green and Paula opened the door, helping Kirk inside. She led him over to the bed and sat him down.
He sat up slightly. ‘Are you going to show me why they call you Pinky?’ he asked, trying to put his hand on her dress.
She took his hand away and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Presently, lover. All good things come to those who wait.’
Then there was a knock on the door. Paula kicked off her shoes and opened it.
Chapter 18
Paula opened the door wide and another girl was standing there. About the same age and build as Paula, she was black and had frizzy hair. She wore a similar cocktail dress to Paula, but hers was red. Kirk noticed her long, black, shiny bare legs.
She sashayed into the room, kissing Paula on the lips as she passed her. Paula shut the door.
‘Bill,’ Paula said, ‘this is my friend.’
‘From the audition?’ Kirk asked.
‘That’s right, honey,’ the other girl purred, stroking his hair. ‘My name’s Perky.’
Kirk’s eyes focussed on the outline of Perky’s nipples through her dress. ‘I see why they call you Perky.’
Perky looked at Pinky and stroked her face. ‘Mm, you have a naughty one here.’
Pinky looked down at Kirk. ‘Naughty boy. I told you to wait.’ She crouched down and opened the mini-bar, taking out a bottle of champagne.
Kirk said to Perky, ‘She’s going to show me why she’s called Pinky.’
Perky looked over at Pinky and kissed her on the lips again, looking back at Kirk. Then the two girls embraced, in a full, passionate kiss. As they embraced, they each unzipped the other’s dresses, so when they ended their embrace, both garments fell to the floor. Now they both stood in front of Kirk, Pinky wearing black lacy panties and black stockings, and Perky in plain red ones, with a little black Aquarius symbol on the side.
Perky opened the champagne: with a loud pop, the cork shot across the room and hit the wall behind Kirk. The two girls giggled, then turned to face each other. Perky then began to pour the champagne over Pinky’s naked chest. Putting the bottle down, she put her face between Pinky’s breasts and began greedily licking up the sparkling drink. Pinky raised her face to the ceiling and began to moan, caressing Perky’s hair.
Kirk, meanwhile, had ripped off his shirt and pants and was now on the bed just in his shorts. The two girls paused and looked over at him amusedly while he fought to remove the shorts. Now he was naked on the bed, swaying around in a drunken fashion, watching as Pinky’s mouth went down onto one of Perky’s breasts.
On his knees, balancing on the bed, Kirk manoeuvred himself over to the edge. He reached out to the two girls, but Perky’s arm flashed out and pushed him away. Off balance, and unable to coordinate his movements, Kirk tumbled back down onto the bed.
‘Patience, honey,’ Pinky called out. ‘I told you: you have to be patient.’
Nodding eagerly, Kirk crawled back so he was sitting upright leaning on the headboard. Now he sat back, heavy-eyed, watching the two girls. By now, Pinky had taken off her panties and Perky was on her knees. The champagne had run down onto her stomach and Perky was licking it off, getting lower and lower.
Kirk was fighting to contain himself.
Then he lost the fight.
Then he passed out.
Chapter 19
Kirk awoke, his head throbbing.
He rubbed his face. It was morning – 7:25 to be exact. Daylight was filtering into the room through the gap between the heavy drapes.
Kirk stood up, still shaky. He padded over to the window, and opened the drapes, squinting as the morning sunshine flooded in.
He looked down. He was naked. He rubbed his face and scratched his head, trying to recall. He made himself some strong coffee and took a long shower, alternating between very hot and freezing cold. Once out of the shower, he made more coffee and dressed.
Checked under the bed, and switched on the television.
Sat on the bed, watching Good Morning, America.
It would not be long now.
*****
Kirk was right: it was not long. At just after 9am, there was a knock on the door. A quiet, polite, conservative two taps. If it was somebody from the hotel such as room service or housekeeping, it would be three taps, and a voice would quietly call out.
No voice this time. Just two taps.
Kirk muted the television and went over to the door. Through the spyhole he could make out a figure. It was a man, dressed in open necked shirt and jacket. He was of Asian descent, dark hair neatly gelled back. Probably two days’ designer stubble.
Kirk unlocked and opened the door.
The man gave him pleasant smile. ‘Mr Kirk?’
‘Yes, I am he. Come on in.’
The man thanked Kirk politely as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a small brown leather zip-up briefcase under his arm.
‘You this morning’s duty manager?’ Kirk asked. ‘I saw your Ms Huth yesterday.’
Another Asian smile. ‘No, sir. I am not the duty manager. I am here on another matter.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Kirk enquired, finishing his coffee.
‘I’ve come to sell you something, Mr Kirk.’ As he spoke, he unzipped the briefcase.
‘Sell me something?’ Kirk slapped his temple. ‘Sorry, I get it: you’re from the LACC. I’d forgotten I’d left my details with you guys.’
‘No, Mr Kirk. I am not from the LACC. I’m here to sell you something else.’ As he spoke, he passed Kirk a brown envelope he had taken out of the briefcase. ‘Insurance.’
‘Insurance?’ Kirk snatched the envelope and tore it open. Gasped as he saw the contents.
The envelope contained five colour photographs, six by four. Kirk flicked through them: they were photographs of him and the two girls from last night. On the first, Kirk was sitting against the end of the bed with Perky sitting astride him. Kirk’s eyes were closed and he had a languid grin on his face. On the next, Pinky was sitting up and Kirk’s face was buried in her crotch. On the third, Pinky was lying on the bed with Kirk on top. And so on.
Kirk looked up at the man. ‘Wha…?’
The man smiled again. ‘It looks as though you and the girls had a fun evening. But, I’m not sure if Evelyn… is that your wife
’s name?’
‘Emeline.’
‘Emeline. Not sure if she’d see it the same way. Or what about the kids? How would they feel if they saw Daddy munching pussy instead of selling drones?’
Kirk made a lunge. ‘You son of a -’
The Asian put out a hand to stop him. ‘Now, now, Mr Kirk. Let’s be civilised.’
‘You said insurance. How much do you want?’
The Asian tapped his chin with the corner of the envelope. ‘Let’s see. How about two thousand now, while you’re in LA, then another two every month?’
‘Two grand a month? Are you crazy?’
‘Look at your beautiful family, Mr Kirk. Or may I call you Bill? Isn’t two thousand worth making sure you don’t lose them? It’s only five hundred dollars a week. That’s what? Seventy bucks a day? Same as a trip to Disneyland.’
Kirk rubbed his face and sighed. He flicked through the photographs again. His hands were shaking. ‘All right, all right. Two grand a month. And I get to keep these?’
‘Free of charge. Introductory offer.’
‘What about the negatives?’
The Asian laughed. ‘Negatives? Bill, you’re still living in the 20th century. It’s all digital now, man; where have you been?’
Kirk said nothing, just flicked through photographs again.
‘No, they are screenshots from the movie.’
‘Movie?’
‘Sure. Just twenty minutes or so. You don’t want that, or these stills showing up on YouTube or Facebook or… Need I go on?’
‘All right, I get the picture.’ Kirk looked around the room, panicked. ‘I don’t have two thousand here.’
‘Of course you don’t.’
‘Well, how do I get it to you?’
‘Give me your cell phone number. I’ll call you later to give you instructions. Give you time to get to an ATM.’
‘Okay.’ Kirk scribbled down a number on a sheet of hotel notepaper.
‘Thank you, Bill.’ The Asian looked at the number and slipped the note into his coat pocket. ‘By the way, when I call you, it will be from a pre-paid cell phone. No GPS. So don’t bother trying to be clever calling the police. Just think of Evelyn and the kids, and how much your family means to you.’
