Lust is a Woman, page 4
“Ralph’s girl, huh?” he said expressionlessly, thrusting out his lower jaw.
“No,” Maria replied, instantly resentful. “Just on a date, that’s all.”
Without another word, Tarzan lowered a hooded lid in McKay’s direction, nodded twice, and turned away. He wiped his oily hands on his bare chest and made his way forward. Dropping bonelessly to the deck he stretched out to his full length, arms above his head, and lay on his back to sun himself.
“And that’s my crew, Maria,” McKay said. “Tarzan is what we call him, and if he has any other name he hasn’t got around to telling me yet. But then,” he added with an amused smile, “I’ve only known him for ten years.”
“He frightens me,” Maria said simply.
McKay laughed. “He’s as gentle as a child, my dear. And I’d trust him with my life. In fact I do. He’s my paid male companion, my close friend, my chauffeur and bodyguard.”
“Why do you need a bodyguard? Are you mixed up with unions or something?” Maria had never known a man who employed a bodyguard.
“No.” McKay shook his head and smiled. “I have money, Maria, a great amount of money, and sometimes I carry a bit of it with me. Tarzan’s presence ensures that I keep it.”
“Oh! I see,” Maria said, but she didn’t really understand why a cultured gentleman like Mr. McKay would keep a crumb like Tarzan around for five minutes. She knew she wouldn’t!
Ralph was now in the open bay and he had raised the speed to twenty-five knots. The dark blue water was choppy and the prow slapped up and down as it split the sea. Over the powerful diesel engine’s roar conversation was difficult. Maria changed her seat and sat down in one of the comfortable fishing chairs facing the wide, boiling wake. They had been out on the water for almost an hour and Maria was getting stiff and a little bored by the ride. McKay sat in the other fishing chair beside her puffing a briar pipe which he relit every few moments with a jet-fed pipe lighter.
“Would you like to fish, my dear?” McKay asked Maria, sensing her growing boredom.
“Gee, Captain,” she replied, “I don’t know. I’ve never fished in my life!”
“Why not try it then?” Mr. McKay left his seat, tapped Ralph on the shoulder and told him to move the craft in slow wide circles, and stay in the center of the bay. Ralph cut the speed down to three knots and the boat rocked gently with incoming swells from the open sea. He set and held the wheel for a gradual graceful curve.
McKay removed a short plastic rod-and-reel from the seat locker on the port side, and a moment later was showing Maria how to cast and how to handle the reel. To demonstrate he stood behind her, pressing his pelvis tightly against her full buttocks, and also found it necessary to put his arms around her with his hands over hers upon the reel. Ralph didn’t relish the slow speed of the boat and the effortless steering, and he disliked how Mr. McKay was giving Maria instructions. He wanted to yell through the open windshield for Tarzan to take the wheel, but the bodyguard was evidently asleep, and he didn’t have any legitimate reason to awaken the man.
Maria was having fun. After she got the general gist of casting and tried it clumsily a few times, she decided she could cast without any help from Mr. McKay. She had been so intent on the rod-and-reel she hadn’t noticed the tightness of McKay’s insistent pressure against her buttocks, but as she wiggled a couple of times to break away from his embrace in an easy manner—after all, she didn’t want to offend the old gentleman—she became highly aware of what that pressure meant. Again she waggled her full hips to break away, but Mr. McKay only held her tighter than before. Maria had been trapped in similar situations at high school dances, and had felt this same kind of pressure against the flesh of her thigh as some pimply-faced kid had held her tightly and against her will. She had known how to handle high school boys. But what could she do when the man was so gentlemanly, and talked about casting all the time in a calm, even voice as though nothing were wrong? For two cents she would have slapped Mr. McKay’s face, but he acted so innocent about everything—and yet he was holding her more tightly than before!
“I don’t believe I like to fish!” Maria said sharply. She jerked away from McKay, and tossed the rod-and-reel to the deck. His expressionless face was flushed and his eyes were bright. McKay picked up the rod and began to wind the fishing cord noisily onto the reel. There was a gentle smile on his face.
“I find fishing very relaxing myself,” he said blandly. “But it takes a long time to become an expert. Would you like some lunch?” Without waiting for her reply, McKay called forward, “Tarzan!”
With what seemed to be but a single bound Tarzan was roused from his slumbers and was standing at slouched attention on the deck in front of Mr. McKay. The boat owner handed Tarzan the rod-and-reel to put away, and told him to bring lunch.
“Perhaps you would like a swim before you eat, Maria?”
McKay said. “There are no sharks out here, I assure you.”
“I didn’t bring my suit,” the girl replied.
“There are some in the cabin. I believe one of them would fit you.”
“Oh, I could never wear another person’s bathing suit!”
“All right,” McKay said, with a shrug of indifference. “How about you, Ralph? Would you like a swim?”
“I didn’t bring any trunks either, Mr. McKay, but I’m more interested in food than swimming.”
There was a splash as Tarzan dived into the water in his dirty duck trousers. The others watched for a moment, as Tarzan swam out across the gently swelling sea with powerful motions of his arms and shoulders, and then they turned to the food with gusto. Ralph, who had been half-starved ever since coming to Miami Beach, could scarcely conceal his greed as he dropped a canful of tiny succulent Norwegian sardines down his throat, two at a time. There were thick ragged slices of fresh rye bread with the crusts cut away, and Ralph made a Lucullan sandwich of beaded, yellow Swiss cheese, a layer of tender salami, three bright-red and juicy slices of tomato, a half-dozen circles of sliced dill pickle, liverwurst, a thick slice of shimmering Spanish onion, topping the contents off with a huge spoonful of hot mustard. He slapped another piece of bread on top with a crushing movement, blending the ingredients into an incredible mixture of sheer delight.
McKay poured out three glassfuls of Moselle from the tall, narrow-necked bottle into fragile glasses, and winked humorously at Maria. “Perhaps I should have brought another basket?”
He was obviously joking; there was enough food in the wicker hamper to feed ten hungry people.
“It’s all so good!” Maria exclaimed.
Maria had filled an enamelware plate with generous bits of chopped cold pork, large slivers from three different cheeses, and had added a heaping portion of potato salad.
Maria enjoyed the novelty of the cold wine. McKay, playing the host, picked here and there at the assortment, but mainly contented himself with watching the other two and keeping their glasses filled. Ralph could not remember a day in his life more perfect than that afternoon. He ate until he could eat no more, and then sipped sleepily at the Moselle, relishing its sunny flavor. He looked often at Maria, admiring her beauty, wondering vaguely how he could manage a night date with her before she returned to the North and left his life forever…
Maria had forgotten her momentary flash of anger at Mr. McKay, dismissing the event as a product of her imagination, justifying his goat-like actions by telling herself that he had had a penknife or a fountain pen in his trousers pocket.
Mr. McKay leaned forward, placed a small hand lightly on her knee, and frowned as he examined her face for a long moment.
“What’s the matter?” Maria asked.
“You’re getting too much sun, young lady. I think we’d better go in.”
The breeze across the water and the sea itself made them feel as if their position in the middle of the bay was at least fifteen degrees cooler than it was ashore. But the heat of the Florida sun had not changed. Maria put fingers to her face.
“I think my face is too hot,” she said anxiously.” And I do burn, with my light complexion and all.”
“We don’t want that, do we?” Mr. McKay said with a kind and considerate smile. He turned his head and shouted: “Tarzan! Take us in!”
A few minutes later, Tarzan at the helm, the craft moved slowly across the bay toward the Marina and its berth.
Maria had marveled at the efficiency and ease with which Tarzan, without a helping hand, put away the luncheon objects, folded the table and raised the anchors and the swimming ladder. Not a motion was wasted; he slithered past each task and when you looked again it was accomplished. Maria still disliked him, and when he once turned his cold, blue eyes on her face, staring blankly from beneath thickly-hooded lids, a cold shiver of fear ran down her back.
At the dock, Tarzan leaped lightly to the pier and secured the craft forward, while Ralph took care of the aft lines. Ralph jumped back on the sunken deck and smiled ingratiatingly at Mr. McKay.
“I don’t know when I’ve had a nicer day, Mr. McKay,” Ralph said. “I really had a wonderful time, and I appreciate you letting me bring Maria along—”
“I want to thank you very, very much, too,” Maria broke in sincerely.
“Now wait a minute!” Mr. McKay held up his hand. “It’s only three-thirty, and I have an idea. Suppose all of us run the Sea Witch up along the inland waterway as far as Fort Lauderdale. We can have a decent dinner there, and then come back tonight. I promise to get you back to the dock by one A.M. at the latest. What do you say?”
Ralph frowned. “I’d love to Mr. McKay, but I’ve got to be at work at eight.”
“That poses a problem.” McKay pursed his lips. “But what about Maria, now? She’s on a vacation. A trip along the waterway would be a grand experience for her.” He laughed pleasantly. And then earnestly: “I know you’ll enjoy it, Maria. If you’re only in Florida for one week you really should see as much as you can.”
Maria looked down at her bare legs, shorts and sandals. “I’m a mess, Captain McKay, I can’t go anywhere to eat like this!” she wailed.
“You don’t have to,” McKay assured her. “I’ll call ahead to the maître d’ at the Robert Fulton and order dinner. He owes me a few favors, and I’ll have dinner served out here on deck. Now what would be an appropriate dinner for a night when the moon is full in Florida …?” Closing his eyes and walking restlessly away from the young couple, his hands clasped behind his back, McKay moved his lips silently as he turned this perplexing problem over in his mind.
Almost too late, Maria remembered that she was on a date with Ralph. Stricken, she looked into his eyes. “Gosh, Ralph,” she said. “I’m really on a date with you! And we have the rest of the afternoon and all…” her tremulous voice faded.
Ralph shook his head. “Forget that part, Maria. I didn’t have any exact plans and I have to work tonight anyway. What else would you do tonight? Hang around the Rotunda Room? Go ahead. You’ll have a good time, and I’ll tell your roommate, Miss Vittorni, not to expect you till late.”
“Would you do that for me? Would you please?” Maria exclaimed eagerly, clasping Ralph’s wrist with a small firm grip. “You don’t really mind, do you, Ralph?”
Ralph smiled pleasantly. What a bust I must be, he thought. She acts as happy as if I released her foot from a bear trap or something. “No,” Ralph said again. “You go ahead, Maria. It’ll be a nice trip for you and I know you’ll enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Ralph. Something like this boat is really a different experience for a city girl.”
Ralph thanked Mr. McKay again for the afternoon, left the pier and returned to his car. As soon as he slid behind the wheel and lit a cigarette, a deep, dark gloom settled over his mind. He remembered that Donald McKay was one of the main owners of the Rotunda Hotel. If he had really wanted Ralph to go along, all he had to do was lift the telephone at the end of the pier, call the manager and order him to replace Ralph at the elevator for the night. Just like that, he could have done it, Ralph thought bitterly.
“The sonofabitch!” Ralph said aloud. “The dirty, rich sonofabitch!”
FIVE
THE Sea Witch glided slowly through the deep mid-channel of the placid inland waterway toward Lauderdale, chugging softly at reduced speed. Maria, from her soft chair on the wide after-well deck, admired the beautiful homes, and waved to the fishermen on the numberless bridges. When the channel paralleled the highway for long stretches, she stared back boldly at the passengers in passing automobiles who ogled the white, expensive cabin cruiser.
“Every one of these people envies me,” she mused, “and who can blame them? They think I’m rich, and I feel rich on this boat. I feel as though I were born for this life, and that I’ve been cheated somehow out of an inheritance…”
Mr. McKay opened the door from the cabin below, and approached Maria with a tall Tom Collins in his hand. This was the drink Maria had ordered, and she smiled her thanks and sipped it gratefully. The gin taste was strong and good, unlike the Collinses served in the Rotunda Room.
“This is wonderful, Mr. McKay. Aren’t you going to have one?”
“Later, my dear. My doctor has limited me to three drinks a day, so I usually save all three for the evening and drink them all at once.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Maria laughed.
“No, I call it subterfuge. Look over there,” McKay pointed. “That’s going to be a new cooperative apartment house. I own a big piece of it.”
Maria’s eyes followed his pointing finger, and she examined the eight-story mass of raw, unpainted concrete. Without their glass panes the black and gaping windows looked like mouse-holes in the concrete façade, but already Maria could see the underlying design of the modern structure to come.
“Cooperative apartments? That’s where everybody buys their own apartment, like a house?”
“That’s right. These apartments cost thirty-five thousand apiece, and there’ll be a maintenance fee of one hundred and fifty dollars a month, as well.”
“Thirty-five thousand! For an apartment? How many rooms do they get for that?”
“Two bedrooms. And a fairly large living room. Of course, there isn’t any dining room and they have to eat their meals in the living room.”
“Is anybody crazy enough to pay that much money for a two-bedroom apartment, and then pay a monthly maintenance fee besides?” Maria said indignantly.
“Certainly, my dear!” McKay’s eyes slanted with amusement at the girl’s naiveté.
“You won’t get that much,” Maria said positively, setting her glass on the deck and crossing her arms. “You’ll lose your shirt; that’s what’s going to happen to you!”
McKay chuckled quietly. “No, Maria, I won’t lose any money. All of the apartments were sold before we even broke the ground.”
“I can’t believe it!” the girl exclaimed. “Why we only pay seventy-five a month rent for three bedrooms on the East Side.”
“The East Side, in New York, is not the Gold Coast in Southern Florida, my dear. People who live here have plenty of money, and in New York, as you should know, your monthly rent would be considerably higher if you lived on Park Avenue.”
“It’s still a lot of money,” she said, “just for two bedrooms.”
“Not really,” Mr. McKay replied conversationally. “Take my boat, for instance. It will sleep four, six in a pinch, but for all general purposes, there is only one large room, the saloon; a small galley, and a bathroom.”
“A boat is different.”
“Well, then, how much do you think I paid for the Sea Witch?”
Maria looked about the deck, her eyes shifting from the mahogany rails to the deep leather seats circling the deck, to the high fishing riggers, back to the aluminum fishing chairs with their deep, soft cushions, then again to the highly-polished pieces of brass almost everywhere she looked, and she was unable to make an educated guess.
“I just don’t know, Captain McKay.” She hesitated. “But it cost you a lot, I know. Overestimating for fun, I’ll say twenty thousand.”
“I was cheated then.” McKay patted Maria kindly on her shoulder. “Seventy-five thousand, in ice-cold cash. But I bought it new,” he teased, “instead of second hand.”
Maria picked up her drink from the deck, jiggled the ice for a moment, and then shook her dark curls. “Maybe I’d better shut up,” she said with a little laugh. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Tarzan pushed the horn three times for a drawbridge. McKay and Maria were silent until the boat passed through the opening and the bridge dropped down behind them.
“Somehow, Captain,” Maria said petulantly, “all this isn’t right. I work like hell all year long—pardon my French—but I really do! I save all year, scrimping on things I sometimes really need, just to take a week’s vacation. And yet there are people who can afford to buy those expensive apartments, or stay in Miami Beach hotels for months and months in rooms costing fifty and seventy-five dollars a day! Where do they get all this money? I work like hell for mine, and they only pay me fifty dollars a week!” Maria was close to tears.
“That’s America, Maria,” McKay said soothingly. “Free enterprise under the capitalistic system, and it’s the best system in the world. I started out with an inheritance of four Negro houses in Jacksonville, and I made mine in real estate. Now, I know a thousand ways to make money. Maybe, if you’re interested, I’ll tell you a few ways you can earn money. Tonight, after dinner.”
