Chapter 3

Ann met Jenifer coming down the long carpeted hallway to Mr. Birindelli's office and breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that she would not have to face the tough-talking, hard-driving corporation executive all by herself.

"How are you, baby," called the tall blonde cheerfully. "How does it feel to be a special promotional assistant?"

"Good, I guess," dubiously responded the lush young doctor's wife. "What do you suppose we have to do?"

"Let's go into the lion's den and find out," suggested Jenifer. "It's almost three o'clock and our fearless leader does not like to be kept waiting."

Jenifer was wearing a cheerful cocktail dress, cut low in front to expose the alluring swelling of her high-set, well-formed breasts. She seemed so fresh and lively that Ann found it difficult to believe this was the same immoral woman who had been so lewdly sucking Mr. Birindelli's lust-swollen penis the day before. It just goes to show you, thought Ann as the two of them presented themselves to Birindelli's secretary, you can never really know what another person is like.

The secretary waved them through and as they entered the inner office, the vice president for sales and promotion was behind his desk, surrounded by a team of assistants and secretaries, shouting into a telephone.

"Tell them to get off their fucking asses," Birindelli thundered at some unfortunate person on the other end of the line. "If the cocktail room isn't ready by eight o'clock, you're fired!" And he slammed down the receiver without waiting for a reply. Ann noticed that none of his female secretaries batted all eyelash at this vulgar language, since they were evidently accustomed to him. Looking up, he caught sight of the two models and permitted himself a quick tense smile.

"Oh, here are our two lovelies. Sit down girls and listen hard because I've only got a few seconds to spare."

Jenifer and Ann took seats hesitantly while Birindelli's staff clustered around him ready to execute any order he might give.

"I had hoped to be able to give you some on-the-job training and brief you thoroughly on your duties before an important job came up, but we're got a crisis on our hands and we're going to have to throw you two into the breach without much preparation. About all hour ago we got a call from Mr. Judson Ty Benson of Salt Lake City, a perfect asshole who also happens to be the biggest buyer of women's clothing in the Midwest. Benson and his team are going to be in town for one night and they want to see the Pink Cloud and our other recent designs. We're setting up a dinner and a party for this evening and the two of you will model our stuff and socialize with Benson and his crew. Jenkins, where's that biographic sketch the market research people worked up?"

An assistant promptly handed the executive a sheet of paper and Birindelli tossed it in Ann's direction.

"Study this and get to know your man, because Benson is your baby. I want you to stick to him like glue all evening and if he signs a contract with us tomorrow morning, I'll write you a check for one cool grand. Screw up and you can look for another job. Jenifer, you get Benson's right-hand man, a guy named Franklyn. We don't know much about him so you'll have to play it by ear. Now both of you get your asses downstairs and see Pauling about what he wants you to wear."

It was clearly not the moment to ask questions. Birindelli immediately turned his attention to the documents before him on his desk and the two young models found their own way out of his office.

"That guy has all the charm of a bull elephant in the rutting season," commented Jenifer acidly, right in front of Birindelli's secretary. "Come on, let's go see old Pauling and see what kind of rags he's got for us."

Ann followed the sexy blonde model down the hall, admiring the way her friend handled herself in every situation. Nothing ever seemed to upset Jenifer, even Mr. Birindelli. How she wished she could behave with the same cool sophistication!

"Look, Pauling, I'm worried," Jenifer told the graphics director as she unzipped the gown she was wearing and stepped casually out of it.

"Try this one on," suggested Pauling, handing her another party dress and stepping back to admire the girl's smooth sleek body, now covered only by a tiny pair of lacy panties. "I didn't know you ever worried about anything. Tonight got you upset?"

"Yes, but not for myself. I can handle almost anything that comes my way, but I don't think our little girlfriend quite realizes what she's gotten herself into. You know how innocent and naive she is! What happens when this Judson Ty Benson tries to get her into bed? She'll scream "RAPE." Wonder-Wear will lose the sale and Birindelli will probably fire everybody in the room, including you and me."

"Could be," admitted Pauling uneasily, frowning as Jenifer's words took effect. "And yet, somehow, Birindelli usually has all the angles figured. I explained all about Ann's morals when he picked her and he insisted on having her anyway. Can't you straighten her out between now and the party?"

"I'll do what I can," agreed the model dubiously, "but I don't want to scare her off, either. Can't you think of anything?"

"Keep your eye on her and make sure her glass is filled every minute," advised the graphics director seriously. "Her type can't normally handle much liquor. Everything goes a little bit better if it's oiled."

"Okay, but you stay on your toes too. I'll be busy with this guy Franklyn," Jenifer reminded him. "Hey, I like this outfit. Does it show enough tit?"

"Plenty," the advertising man assured her, allowing his lustful gaze to roam over her smooth, young breasts. "And you'll only be wearing it for the first few minutes. After that, you'll be sporting Wonder-Wear and that shows even more."

"You know," reflected Jenifer, pirouetting in front of the mirror. "I really do dig this dress. Could I keep it afterwards?"

"That's a three hundred dollar dress," said Pauling softly, coming up behind her and putting his hands confidently on her slender waist. "And it belongs to Wonder-Wear, Incorporated. Of course, I might be persuaded to drop it from the inventory..."

"Really?" responded the voluptuous yielding young model, a trace of sensuality in her voice as she teasingly drew down the zipper. "Let me see if I can't find a way to-persuade you..."

"Good Heavens, at this rate, I'm going to be drunk as an owl before the party even starts," protested Ann nervously as Pauling handed her another glass of champagne. The innocent but tempting young model was wearing a green frilly party dress, chosen for her by Mr. Pauling, which emphasized her full dramatic figure and revealed her heavy swollen breasts almost to their tender brown nipples.

Jenifer, Pauling and a scattering of other Wonder-Wear executives were waiting with Ann in the company's cocktail room for Birindelli and his team to return from a business dinner with the Salt Lake City buyer and his assistants. At one end of the hall was a dressing room where the two models would change into the various costumes and fashions Wonder-Wear was trying to sell. A bar had been set up to keep the liquor flowing and a white- suited bartender was busily uncorking champagne bottles.

"Don't worry, these deals are just excuses to net juiced," declared Pauling. "Here come the big boys now. They've probably all had six martinis apiece at dinner."

"Not Mr. Benson," asserted Ann worriedly. "Mr. Birindelli gave me a description of him that said he's active in church affairs and doesn't smoke or drink!"

"Watch out for him honey," joked Jenifer with a lewd grin. "A guy that doesn't smoke or drink must be saving his energy for something. Hey, are you nervous or something?"

"Just a little," admitted the brown-haired girl. "Posing for the camera in your underwear is one thing, but walking around in a room full of men... I didn't realize that's what special promotional assistants had to do."

"Nonsense," insisted Pauling, who had been listening carefully to what Ann said. "That's just an insignificant part of the job. Your business is to charm that client. Make him want to buy Wonder-Wear because you and he are friends. This is a very high-powered psychological sales technique you're participating in."

As Pauling spoke, the group of senior executives entered the room and Ann's eyes followed an extremely tall lanky man of about fifty whom she recognized from the description she had been given as Judson Ty Benson. The Midwestern business magnate was a thin as a scarecrow and wore typical Western-style clothing with a checkered shirt, a string tie and steel-rimmed glasses which made him look like a circuit preacher. Feeling a gentle shove from behind, Ann stepped forward to be introduced, now glad that she had had a couple of glasses of champagne to give her courage.

"And this is one of our smartest young promotional assistants," Birindelli informed the tall gangling man. "Ann, shake hands with the

"As the Bible says, 'Work and ye shall prosper, '" quoted Benson, shaking hands stiffly with Ann and examining her carefully through his old-fashioned spectacles. "I am what I am today because of a life-time of clean living and honest labor, Mr. Birindelli," he informed Ann's boss.

"Of course, Mr. Benson, and we all admire you for it," Birindelli smiled back at him insincerely with a wink to Ann out of the corner of his eye. "Miss Larkin, why don't you get Mr. Benson something to drink?"

"Surely," the young model began, but Benson cut her oft with another biblical quotation.

"'The fruit of the grape brings madness to fools, ' as the Good Book says, young lady," he instructed her. "I never touch liquor."

"I believe we may have some orange juice," offered Ann smoothly, knowing that Birindelli was watching her sharply, waiting to see how she would handle the situation.

"Not Florida orange juice?" inquired the visiting businessman, wrinkling his brow.

"California, naturally," Birindelli assured him and Ann walked quickly to the bar, thinking that Benson was about the strangest individual she had ever met. The bartender poured a glass three-quarters full of fresh orange juice and promptly filled it up with vodka.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ann, angry at the man's stupidity. "This is for Mr. Benson and he doesn't drink liquor!"

"Then he shouldn't know what vodka tastes like," retorted the bartender calmly, handling her the glass. "Anyway, Mr. Birindelli's orders and I guess he knows what he's doing."

Apparently he did, since Benson accepted the glass with his peculiar preacher's smile and drank deeply.

"Avoid Florida orange juice, my dear," he informed her, smacking his lips. "Contains all sorts of impurities!"

"Oh, I will," Ann assured him, taking another sip of her champagne. "Thank you for the warning." Mr. Benson lectured on about the necessity of living cleanly and avoiding impurities of all kinds and Ann quickly glanced around the room to see how the party was progressing. Jenifer was busily chattering to a young man who was apparently Franklyn, Benson's right-hand man. Several other pretty girls from the Wonder-Wear staff were circulating through the party, making sure that everyone's cigarette was lit and everyone's glass was full. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Mr. Birindelli had chosen her, his least experienced assistant, to be Benson's companion at this party. Surely Jenifer or one of the others would be more relaxed and sophisticated. But, as the bartender had put it, Birindelli always did seem to know what he was doing.

"Ann," said the vice president with a soft pleasant voice. "I have an idea. Why don't you and Jenifer show Mr. Benson and his staff the Pink Cloud and some of our other outfits? I'm sure he could get a better idea of how they look if he could see them actually being worn by someone as pretty as you."

Birindelli was behaving as if it were an idea which had just struck him rather than a carefully-organized operation they had been planning all day, but Ann played along with him.

"Fine, Mr. Birindelli. In fact, we brought the whole Wonder- Wear line up with us just in case someone wanted to take another look at it." And then she turned to Mr. Judson Benson, who was knocking back his fourth specially-prepared California orange juice, and gave him an apologetic little-girl look.

"Of course, we're not professional models, Mr. Benson, but we'll do our best."

"The Lord asks of each of us our most earnest endeavor," agreed Benson, slurring his words a little.

Ann gave him her most winning smile, hoping that no one could see how nervous she was, and went off to collect Jenifer.

"Everything's going like clockwork," Pauling informed the two attractive models as they entered the dressing room. "And I think you're sweeping Mr. Benson off his feet, Ann. Now get into your outfits and go!"

It was not as bad as she had imagined it would be. Never in Ann's entire life had she drunk so much champagne in one evening and her entire body felt warm and rosy. The room was hot and she felt comfortable and natural in the brief undergarments which Pauling had left out for them to model. She made a point of not looking at herself in the mirror whenever she put on a new set of underwear or one of the frilly nighties which the company manufactured for fear that she would be covered with embarrassment if she saw how much of her was showing.

From time to time, she thought of how shocked and horrified her husband would be if he could see her now, but somehow the idea filled her with amusement. Frank was a dear man, but sometimes he behaved like such a stuffed shirt. These people, she decided, really knew how to have fun and even Mr. Benson was beginning to kick up his heels a little, under the influence of a number of California orange juices spiked with Vodka.

"Do you like this one, Mr. Benson?" she asked innocently as she showed him an almost-transparent white nightie which she would never have dared to wear sober.

"It becomes you, my dear," he announced, his long angular body swaying slightly from the alcohol he had unknowingly been drinking. "As King Solomon says in the Song of Songs, 'Your beauty is like the shining sea and your breasts are like pomegranates.' Although worn by some less pure young woman, I can see that it might be quite vulgar."

Pauling intercepted her on the way back to the changing room and filled up her glass with champagne again.

"I don't think I should drink any more, Mr. Pauling," she told him. "We've still got three or four more things to model and I'm really getting pretty tight."

"That's okay," responded Pauling seriously. Even in her drunken state, Ann could see that the graphics director was still dead sober. "Benson's good and sloshed and he's ready to go back to his hotel. Birindelli wants you to get dressed and escort him. So this is one for the road."

"Oh really... do you think that's quite proper?" Ann protested as she drank the champagne. "I mean... suppose he gets the idea..."

"That guy?" exclaimed Pauling with an amused smile. "He hasn't had that particular idea in twenty years. He'll just quote the Bible all the way up to his room. You just tuck him into bed and then go on home. We'll see you back here in the morning. But remember, this is one hell of a big client. If he decides he wants to go out for a pizza or something, for Christ's sake go with him."

Mr. Judson Ty Benson seemed to be sitting unnecessarily close to her in the back of the cab and his hand had fallen, apparently by accident, onto Ann's bare thigh, but she found it impossible to believe that a man who quoted scripture as much as this one did could possibly mean any harm. Besides Ann's senses were dulled by the enormous quantity of champagne she had imbibed over the course of the evening. It had seemed that every time she turned around, Pauling or Jenifer thrust a fresh glass into her hands. But somehow she felt good, despite the slight spinning sensation in her head.

"Did we remember the samples, Miss Larkin?" the businessman wanted to know. "I'll want to study them again before retiring for the night."

"Yes, Mr. Benson," Ann assured him smoothly. "Right here in this suitcase." Their cab pulled up in front of Benson's hotel and the lanky, angular gentleman handed the driver a crisp ten dollar bill.

"Come up for two minutes, won't you?" asked the executive in a business-like tone of voice. "I have some more questions about some of these garments and perhaps you could use a cup of coffee before starting out for your home."

It was more of an order than a question and Ann was not overly enthusiastic about going up to Mr. Benson's hotel room in the middle of the night, but she remembered Pauling's instructions about humoring important clients. Not that she was worried about Mr. Benson misbehaving, of course, because he was obviously too religious-minded for any hanky-panky. But still, if someone who knew her husband should see her entering a hotel with a suitcase in the middle of the night, the wrong conclusions could be jumped to without too much of a strain on the imagination.

Obediently, the inexperienced young model followed the Salt Lake City businessman through the sumptuous lobby of the hotel, attracting lewd and suspicious stares from bellhops and busboys.

"Pay them no mind, daughter," said Mr. Benson, observing her embarrassment. "Evil is in the eye of the beholder and the pure in heart rush in where angels fear to bed."

Ann was not quite sure that this particular quotation sounded exactly right, but her mind was too addled by the quantity of alcohol she had consumed to try to decide how it should go. The door of Room Number 971 yielded to Benson's key and the two of them walked into the most luxurious penthouse suite Ann had ever seen.

"Very well, let's get right down to work because I'm sure you're anxious to get home to bed," Mr. Benson commented, setting the suitcase full of Wonder-Wear samples on the dresser and opening it up. The first thing he drew out was the sheer white nightie and a thin pair of soft, powder blue panties with white frilly lace around the legbands Ann had modeled earlier in the evening.

"Now, I am interested in this particular nightgown worn over these panties, he stated, holding them up to the light and examining it with the greatest attention. "They have good lines and the material seems to be high-quality. I think we could sell a great many of them in my territory, however..."

"What don't you like about them?" asked Ann solicitously, relieved that he was really interested in talking business but wishing desperately that she were a tiny bit soberer.

"Tell me honestly, Miss Larkin," he asked her seriously. "You're quite obviously a young woman of the highest moral standards. Do you think a nightgown and panties like this are... well... decent?"

"Decent?" she echoed, a little stupefied. Damn. Why didn't I stay away from that champagne? she asked herself. I can't think straight and if I lose this client, Birindelli will fire me!

"I mean, I wouldn't want to bring into my territory anything which could be an occasion for sin," Benson continued earnestly. "I simply cannot decide if this nightgown and those panties aren't really calculated to stimulate a man's baser sexual instincts."

Ann was dumbfounded. The nightie was thin enough to be transparent and so short that it would barely cover a woman's buttocks, and the panties were so thin and sheer you could see her pubic curls and vaginal slit right through them. What kind of instincts did he think it was calculated to stimulate?

"Those of us in the clothing trade have grave moral responsibilities, Miss Larkin," he continued, staring at her with his beady unblinking eyes. "And too many of my colleagues knowingly sell garments which are open invitations to immoral behavior."

"Well," Ann mumbled, trying to think of something intelligent to say. "I think that..."

"No, I've got to see them modeled again," he interrupted. "If they cause the slightest sexual arousal in me, I simply will not be able to place an order with your company. Without boasting, I think it is fair to say that I am morally stronger than most men and if something is capable of threatening my ethical standards, then we can safely conclude that it would be disastrous for my weaker brethren. You may change in the bathroom, Miss Larkin." Dropping the nightie over her shoulder and pushing the panties in her hand, Benson shoved the startled, astonished girl into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The man's out of his mind, thought Ann, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to get her eyes to focus properly. Here I am, drunk as a whore, supposed to model a sexy nightgown for a religious nut and somehow not arouse any of his lower instincts, if he has any. I'm going to get fired for sure, and we won't be able to make the payments on that new car. What a situation!

But there was no question of disobeying Mr. Benson now. Refusing to model for him would be clearly insulting and Wonder- Wear would automatically lose the sale. With a sigh of resignation, she slipped out of her green low-cut party dress and her Pink Cloud underwear and pulled the nightie over her head, inspecting herself in the mirror.

There were no two ways about it. This was a sensuous, lust- arousing nightgown and a pair of panties definitely designed to bring out the lower instincts in almost anyone!

Ann's head was spinning wildly now and she wished Mr. Benson would remember that promised cup of coffee. Somehow she had to sober up enough to deal with this insane situation. Splashing water on her face, she gathered up her courage and walked back into the bedroom. Mr. Benson had removed his coat and tie and was sitting on the edge of the bed.