Chapter 3

Susan wasn't surprised at her nervousness; in fact, she had expected it. She had spoken to Max Bovino only once before that morning on the telephone, and that had been when she'd served him one evening in the dining room. He customarily took his meals in his apartment and few of the employees on the first-floor ever got to see him. She didn't know if it was the same up in the casino, but imagined that it might be. His operating staff was extremely efficient, everyone answerable to someone else, just as she was subordinate to Mr. Blanchette, the Maitre d', and there seemed little need for any direct contact with his working people by the blind owner.

Susan couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing, not going through channels, but calling him directly the way she had. After all, if her being transferred upstairs didn't materialize, Mr. Blanchette could make things unpleasant for going over his head. Well... it was a little late to be thinking about that now, wasn't it? She'd already made her move... and in five- minutes she was due for their appointment. At least, the big, handsome man had sounded quite receptive, not at all upset that she'd called him; she could only hope and keep her fingers crossed. God knows, she needed the additional money bad enough, with all of her plans for Nadine... and she could hardly make ends meet now, as it was.

She drove the ancient modeled Ford a little faster than she liked to with its smooth tires, speeding along Elmhurst Road toward the out skirts of the city where the old and beautiful three- storied plantation-type structure sat a half-mile back from the highway amidst well-kept, breathtaking grounds of giant elms, maples and weeping willow trees, along with fantastic gardens of flowers and shrubs. It had once been the home of Elliot Thackery Parks, the original settler of Parksburg, and when his last descendant, Anna Marie Parks, had passed away at eighty-seven some two-years before, Max Bovino had managed to acquire the property right out of the hands of the city fathers, who, as rumor had it, intended to establish an historical shrine there.

Susan found herself smiling in thought. It was a wonder the magnificent old place wasn't crawling with the enraged ghosts of its illustrious, one time occupants... the use it had finally come to... with the gambling, drinking, and nude dancing that took place in the casino. She had never actually seen the dancing going on, but she'd heard stories of its outright lewdness from the other waitresses, and she had seen some of the beautiful dancers, such as Lily Vance. Not that she was any prude, and she was well aware that bottomless-topless shows were all the rage even in the beer taverns, but some of the antics, props and performances that supposedly went on in entertainment of Parksburg's elite jet-set was enough to cause any normal girl to blush. Self-consciously, she felt her own cheeks flushing as she brought the Ford to a halt in the parking area, checked her sparse makeup in the rear-view mirror, then hopped out. Maybe it would be just as well if she embarrassed herself more often... it added a little color to her face. She was altogether too white-skinned anyway, she was thinking, as she walked to the side entrance and nervously took the private elevator to Mr. Bovino's apartment.

The enchanting luxury of his secluded and almost impregnable suite near overwhelmed Susan. She had expected to view plush surroundings, but nothing quite so elaborate and splendid. The man they called Silk, an evilly lecherous, smirking individual, who invariably caused a cold clamminess to creep over her whenever she saw him, met her at the door and ushered her inside to a study-like room where the reputedly notorious, blind owner sat in a huge leather chair, with his beautiful and massive seeing-eye dog seated at his feet. Max Bovino was wearing an expensive wine-colored, satin dressing-gown with very little obviously beneath it, the matted greying hair on his powerful chest in plain view above the crossed black lapels of his robe. He wore bedroom slippers, his feet propped on a large ottoman, and she saw his hairy, naked legs almost to his muscular thighs before she caught herself, jerking her eyes up to his handsome, square face that seemed to be gazing off blankly at nothing.

"This is her, Boss... Susan Sheldon," Silk said, his small eyes raking her up and down licentiously.

"Well... how do you do, Susan," Max Bovino greeted in his guttural voice, his chin high and not facing her. "Come over here and sit in this chair near me where we can talk."

"Th-Thank you," Susan managed, astonished and embarrassed at her employer's near-nakedness, as well as frightened by Silk Weaver's salacious little eyes that continued to undress her. Somehow, she folded down onto the edge of the chair that rested by the ottoman, facing the blind man, and she was near enough to reach down and pet Launcelot's great head. This, she did, to the animal's seeming delight. "What a beautiful dog," she said. "What's his name?"

"Sir Launcelot, but we call him Lonny," Max Bovino replied. "He evidently likes you... other wise he would've growled when you petted him."

Susan looked up quickly at the big-man, wondering how he had known that she had touched the animal, and as if he'd anticipated her unasked question, he said: "My hearing, my taste, my touch... all of a blind-man's remaining senses form an alliance and work together to compensate for the loss of his sight." He smiled, showing handsome, square white teeth. "The doctors told me that, Susan... but I figure it to be instinct. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Silk had walked to a chair dropping into it off to her right, and without looking in his direction, Susan knew that he was still mentally stripping the clothes from her body. She had to steel her self to keep from jumping up and running from the room... then, Max Bovino shifted his muscular body in the chair and from where she sat she could actually see his flaccid genitals, exposed to her shocked eyes beneath the partly opened dressing gown! Good Lord! She had never felt so embarrassed in her life...

"Well... ?" Max pressed. "You didn't come here just to pay me a social visit, did you, Susan?" He chuckled. "Not that I don't appreciate pretty visitors, you understand... eh, Silk?"

The scrawny man snickered lewdly. "You bet, Boss... and she's a pretty one, all right... a real China-doll."

Susan stared from one to the other, completely taken aback by their sudden and unexpected remarks. She hardly knew whether to regard them as affrontive or not... the whole unbelievable scene... his sitting there before her exhibiting his naked organs with a seeming unawareness or was he unaware? Where was that alliance of senses he'd just spoken of? And this other slimy creature with his lust-filled eyes and obscene smile.

Dear God... what had she walked into?

"P-Perhaps, I've made a mistake," Susan heard herself say as she got to her feet. "I can find my own way out, Mr. Bovino.

"Just a minute," Max snapped, leaning forward in his chair. "Let's not be in any godamned rush, Mrs. Sheldon, eh? People who come to see me don't leave until I say so. It isn't polite... if you know what I mean. Okay?"

Momentarily, Susan felt her breath hitch in her throat. Silk had gotten to his feet and walked over behind her... between the door and herself. She had no idea what was happening, but something had suddenly taken a wrong turn. She stared at the blind-man, her lips slightly parted forebodingly. Finally, she managed to say: "I- I don't under understand, Mr. Bovino."

The big-man lay back and once more she could see his large, limp male member hanging down to the cushion of the chair over his hair-covered testicles and she swallowed in red-faced disconcertion.

"You work downstairs in the dining room, don't you?" he questioned.

"Y-Yes, I do."

"How long you been there?"

"Over a year... some fourteen months," she replied, running her tiny tongue over the delicate line of her upper lip habitually.

"Humph... while your husband was still alive, eh?" Before he killed himself, that right?" Max tossed at her.

His words bore an acridness that seemed unnecessary to Susan, yet, he'd said nothing wrong. She answered with an affirmative nod of her head, then remembered that he couldn't see. "Y-Yes," she said, "He's only been dead two-months."

"What the hell did he kill himself for?" the blind-man questioned. "Yellow, or something?"

Susan gaped at him in amazed spontaneous rage. I-I beg your pardon? Lis-Listen to me, Mr. Bovino, I-I didn't come here to be insulted or to have the memory of my husband insulted either!" she spat, tears, clouding her eyes. "Now, if you'll tell this... this creep behind me to get out of my way, I'll leave here..."

Max began to laugh uproariously, and as he laughed, Susan could see his huge flaccid member between his hairy thighs jiggle with the effort. Then, he said: "You hit it right on the head, sweetheart... creep. I like that, Silk." He continued to laugh while the scrawny man's eyes narrowed menacingly. Susan turned to read the hatred there and cringed before them, immediately sorry that she'd lost her self-control. Then, the big-man said: "But you're not going anyplace yet, Baby... not 'til you and me finish our business. Now, come back here and sit down... if you want that job."

Once more, Max Bovino lay back in his chair, his crotch completely exposed now, and Susan stared at him in utter disbelief. She had convinced herself that he was entirely aware of his displayed genitals, and perhaps in some obscene way was satisfying a sexual craving, much as any exhibitionist... But if she could get the job... this was the important thing to her... certainly, she'd seen masculine organs in every state they could assume... whatever he was trying to accomplish for himself, sensual or otherwise, she'd be a fool to turn and run. God knows, she needed that job; she had to think of Nadine! Her sweet darling was all that counted... Slowly, she walked back to the chair and seated herself, trying desperately to avert her eyes from his great, limp member.

"A-All right, Mr. Bovino... I'm here," she said evenly. "And, and I'd like to be moved upstairs in the casino to work."

"Hmmm, I see. In what capacity?"

"Cocktail waitress."

"Why?"

"I need the additional money," Susan replied. "I have to make more than a hundred dollars a week, and that's all I can earn in the dining room."

The big-man nodded his head in supposed understanding. "What do the cocktail-girls make?"

"Sometimes, a hundred-and-fifty."

Max Bovino massaged his square chin with a big hand while Susan struggled to keep her level of vision away from his completely exposed loins. For a moment, she thought she heard Silk sniggering behind her, but she didn't dare to turn and see for certain. Let the foul pervert revel in his obscene world, and this lurid man along with him... if she could gain what she'd come for, that's all she wanted...

"How about three-hundred-and fifty a week for starters, Susan?" Max said suddenly. "Does that sound like a figure that might interest you?"

"Wh-What... ? Th-Three hundred and..." Susan repeated, his words making no sense what ever to her. "Y-You mean, three-hundred- and-fifty dollars... ? Every week?"

"Just for starters, Baby," Max said, grinning. "And as you progress, so does the loot."

Something had to be radically wrong. She was certain that she'd heard him correctly, yet, the figure he'd quoted was absolutely too far-fetched for any cocktail waitress.

"Well?"

"I-I... just don't understand, Mr. Bovino...

He grinned, but he was looking more over her head than at her. "Tell me, Baby," he said, "does my cock scare you?"

He might have had Silk Weaver strike her on the head, or the dog attack her... dear God, she was certain that the shock wouldn't have been greater than his words!

"Well... why the hell don't you answer?" he snapped. "Does my bare cock and balls hanging there before your eyes frighten you? Answer me!"

"M-My God! Y-You're sick!" Susan heard her self exclaim, the sound of the lewd words he had used still racing wildly through her brain. "You have to be! Wh-What do you think I am, any way? Some filthy slut off the street that you can drag in here and subject...

"I didn't drag anybody in here, Baby!" Max growled viciously. "Now, you just get that in your little head, eh? You came to me! You're asking the favors! You need the money! Now... godamn you... I'm going to see that you get it... but you're going to earn it, every dime of it... right downstairs in the casino dancing bare-assed, Sweetheart, for all of my high-paying guests... dancing and fucking yourself with the dildos and anything else I can dream up, while the whole godamned world watches... otherwise," he leaned forward until Susan could see the flecks of enraged spittle at the corners of his mouth, "other wise... I'm going to hang your actor-lover, Jamey Halo, right up by his prick... then, feed that lush-assed daughter of yours to my lieutenant... Mr. Weaver, here! Now, how does that program strike you, Baby?"

Susan nearly fell sideways off the chair from the mental force of his unbelievable word-filth, let alone their horrifying meaning. She tried to get to her feet, but her head was reeling... the room spun before her, and faintly, she heard her self cry out as little animalish whimpers seemed to sweep up from the floor and envelope her into darkness.

She might have remained unconscious for five minutes, Susan wasn't certain. But as her senses reached her, she lay unmoving and listened. It began to return and the voices in the room was easier than acknowledging the nausea that was trying to overpower her. She lay deathly still on the davenport where someone had lifted her... probably Silk, and she shuddered at the thought, her eyes closed, her ears wide-open to every syllable they spoke. Dear God, she thought in mounting terror, somehow, she had placed her self and all of her loved-ones in unbelievable danger. But why? Why... ?

"Tell me again what she looks like, Silk," Max Bovino's guttural voice came to her. "And tell me good."

"Hell, Boss, she's absolutely a dream. Of course, I ain't seen her naked yet, but she's got the most beautiful face you ever pictured."

"You said there was some oriental strain there," the big-man put in anxiously. "I always went for them godamned slant-eyes. They say that they're taught how to please a man from the time they learn to walk. Hurry up, tell me, has she got that look?"

"Yeah... shit, like a goddess or something. Tiny bones in her face and hands, and great big almond shaped, dark, slanting eyes... skin like white tissue-paper... you can see the tiny blue veins right through it. And long, shiny black hair that hangs almost to her ass, Boss, only she'd got it all piled up on top for working in the dining-room. Christ! Her tits stick right out straight... firm, full ones, too, and I've never seen such legs in my fucking life... I mean, what I can see of 'em... honest, Boss, never! But I could tell you better if you'd let me strip her...

"No! I told you no, damnit! She'll take her own clothes off!" Max barked. "She'll take 'em off and be godamned glad to! She'll fuck and suck me and be godamned glad to! Because she belongs to me, Silk, you understand? In place of these eyes that husband of hers and his brother took from me that night in Boston! Damn little to pay for a man's eyes, but it's the best I can get... she and her daughter... and I intend to have 'em both!"

"What about Halo?" Susan's whirling brain registered Silk Weaver's question as she tried to control her emotions with the sheer panic that was rapidly building inside her. Mother of God... She had to keep her wits! "You want me to take care of him now, Boss?"

"No... I've changed my mind. First, I want to see how she reacts. If she's agreeable... plays along, then, maybe I'll give Halo a break. Hell, I don't need his eighty-five grand; I just don't like a welsher is all. He'll pay eventually... and come back to gamble some more... those suckers always do. But... if she doesn't play ball, then, you go work the TV genius over, and good, you hear?"