I smiled at Tony. “I think I’m ready to go in again,” I announced to him. I got up out of the chair and stretched my arms way up above my head. My body was completely dry now and lightly kissed with color by the sun. I walked casually the few steps to the pool, stood at the edge, curled my toes and joining my hands in front of me, dove in smoothly. I swam underwater to the opposite end, coming up between the startled men who were hanging about the edges.

  Once among them I turned over on the surface and began to float. The long stretch of my arms over my head caused my breasts to bob up and down and in and out of the water.

  I could tell that they were enjoying my little exhibition. My attempt to do the breaststroke led to some flustered attempts at real breast stroking on the part of one of them. But I laughed and slipped smoothly away from him, silently challenging him to join in the chase and try to catch me.

  He caught on to the game at once and so did the others, but they chose to remain standing in the water rather than participate in the game.

  The man chasing me was a good swimmer but I was better or at least faster, and every time he thought he had caught up with me I had managed to elude him and swam further on, sometimes straight through the center of the pool and other times darting to the perimeter, and finally to grasp him by the ankle, to pull him to me.

  Laughing and gasping I took a good hold of his shorts and pulled them down showing him that I was game if he was. But he seemed a little embarrassed by my audacious action and quickly pulled his suit back on. I was a little surprised at this until I realized the usual machismo psychology of the Mafia male who must at all times be in command of the situation, and most especially of the woman.

  So I just lay back with my shoulders against the lap of the pool and let him play with my breasts dunking them in and out of the water as if it was to him, the most enjoyable thing in the world to do.

  It was a shame I thought that the pool had not been outfitted with a diving board. It might have been fun to have let them take me that way. Bouncing hard suspended in mid-air a few feet above the surface of the glistening water. I made a mental note to mention it to Tony.

  It would show him that my mind was on my work and would help dispel any other unpleasant ideas he might have gotten after this mornings incident at the field.

  I turned my attention back to the playful Mafioso who was skillfully manipulating my nipples. “Hey, stop that,” I cautioned him. “There’s only so much a girl can take and I’m trying to save myself for after dinner.”

  That mild admonishment was enough to stop him. “Okay, okay,” he muttered and swam away to rejoin his friends.

  That was enough of that, I thought, and swam back to the other end where Tony and Nicky sat.

  I clambered out like a cat, and gratefully caught the big thick towel that Nicky tossed to me. I wrapped it around me sarong style not bothering to dry my arms and legs, figuring I would let the sun do that for me.

  Appropriately toweled with a big knot between my breasts I sat down at the table with the two men.

  “This is not a hard life to get used to,” I complimented Tony. “I have the feeling I could stay here forever.”

  He demurred gracefully. “We find that usually two weeks is just about enough time,” he said.

  That sure put me in my place. I didn’t push the subject any further. I hadn’t figured on having more than two weeks there anyway. I couldn’t help wondering how they got the twenty-odd girls that they must have consumed in the course of the year down there on such a tight schedule. I wondered if they allowed themselves a few days reprieve in between.

  Not that I expected to have action with every single one of them every single night. I was sure that it would begin tapering off once the initial novelty of me had worn slightly. Most men were like that and these guys would be no different.

  I wondered if they ever had return visits of any of the girls.

  Then a terrible thought hit me. This was such a super-secret operation suppose none of the girls ever survived to tell about it? If a call girl was being hired to do a two-week stint in a place like this, chances were that there was nobody in the world she’d be telling the details to; even if there were, what would she tell them besides the name of the country, as where she was going? They could be offing all of the girls who were brought down here and no one would be the wiser!

  The thought damned near paralyzed me! Not that I expected that I would ever be dumb enough or slow enough to fall victim to such a trap, but I couldn’t help thinking of how many young bodies might never have returned from this tour…

  For this brand of operation it would not really be unusual.

  I hastily gulped down the rest of the crimson-colored drink that Luz had brought me. “Well, I guess I’d better say ta, ta for now,” I told them with a bravado that I didn’t quite feel. “I’d better get myself ready for later.” I punctuated that with a big wink at Tony and sashayed off to find my own room.

  I was sick to my stomach. I mean nobody drops dead over the disappearance or sudden demise of a hooker in New York. It happens every day but the enormous implication that they might be blowing away as many as twenty girls a year was a little hard for me to take. Especially when I coupled it with that deserted village I had passed through this morning. Even if all of the adult Indians were gainfully employed in Tony’s field where were the children? There had to be children, and yet I hadn’t seen anything that would indicate the presence of kids.

  Of course there was the possibility that these unseen workers had been recruited or more likely shanghaied from elsewhere and that they had not been permitted to bring any of their dependents with them. It was possible, but still I now had two large areas of uneasiness creeping inside my gut, that were growing and expanding every time I thought of them.

  And what about the unanswered cries of the other night? It could have been a kitchen maid, except that I had seen no servants or anybody else about the house with the exception of Luz. Even if she did have somebody else there helping her she did not at all seem the type of woman who could inflict such pain as to provoke such outcries.

  That made three unanswered questions in two days.

  The hacienda and its inhabitants were racking up quite a score, in my book.

  I decided to put myself to sleep until dinner time. It was going to be pretty difficult and probably inadvisable to do any exploring of the house itself during daylight, even though all of the men except Nicky seemed to be away each day. No, I had decided that all my nocturnal inspections with regard to the head of the house or at the fields, would have to be carried out in the deep dark of night. I would have to use the daylight hours for rest, to support my nighttime wandering.

  It wasn’t easy to fall asleep with all of these things bugging my mind but I made a very determined effort. A quick hot shower helped. So did a gentle rubbing all over my body with some Nina Ricci body lotion. With my fingertips I carefully massaged the creamy white liquid everywhere starting with the soles of my feet and working between my toes, on the toes themselves, insteps and ankles, all the way up the leg front and back.

  I paid special attention to my thighs, working carefully along the long back muscles, the front curves, the sweet insides. Then I did the rest of my body just as carefully, massaging everywhere until I had lulled myself into a beautifully relaxed and almost drowsy condition.

  It made napping very nice and when I woke up I still felt the benefit of my cool ministrations.

  It had grown dark outside with a quickly descending twilight that threw everything outside of the house into deep purple shadows. It would be a good time I thought to check over my weaponry and be sure that everything was in good working order. Most of my gadgets had done me good service on one or another of my previous tours. But NYMPHO had thoughtfully included a few new goodies that could be very lethal and effective in the rather remote pastoral circumstances I now found myself in.

  The most useful, now that I had decided that I would try to burn down the fields before I left, was a solid gold cigarette lighter that was a recognizable specialty of one of the best Fifth Avenue shops. Our own think boys had tinkered with the insides sufficiently to have created a solid gold flame thrower for me.

  I picked it up now and held it in my hand. The gleam of the gold was beautiful and might prove tempting to any light-fingered character who might happen to see and admire it. I always kept it buried in the bottom of my bag along with a pack of cigarettes whose covert purpose was to supply justification for the supposed cigarette lighter. But since I never smoked it was better to keep them hidden any way, especially as the cigarettes were not just the usual Viceroy soft pack.

  No, if the occasion ever arose that I decided to light one up it wouldn’t be for the purpose of relaxation or whatever it is that people smoke cigarettes for. It would be in order to exhale into the face of whatever enemy I was confronted with, a wicked smoke whose chemical composition could put someone out for 8 to 12 hours or if I wanted, permanently.

  If on my own I was able to uncover enough evidence against Tony Bandelli for any follow up information to be unnecessary it would be a nice way to say goodbye to him at the airstrip, I thought.

  But all of that was so far ahead of me it didn’t make any kind of sense to try to plan it, so far in advance.

  I had enough to do what with exploring the forbidden fields and trying to unlock the secrets of the hacienda. First things first, I reminded myself, that was the only way a case like this could be cracked and broken and finally disposed of.

  I couldn’t go about it haphazardly. That would only draw suspicion on me and wreck whatever chances I had for fulfilling the long-term goal of the caper.

  Sure, it would have been easy enough to go into each of their bedrooms at night, one after the other, and blow smoke rings into their faces. Then I could come home and report five less Mafioso alive to trouble the world.

  As tempting as that vision was I had to remind myself that it was not the purpose of my mission. But I promised myself solemnly that if I did uncover enough to wipe out the operation, as a bonus I would let myself indulge myself in the ultimate luxury of waving each of these boys a final bye-bye.

  It was with such sweet thoughts in my mind that I started to dress for my next confrontation with them.

  Not wanting to bore them into sending me home before my allotted time, I decided to come on with a totally different approach tonight. Instead of my obviously sexy call girl outfits I would instead be quite demure this evening. I picked out a sweet-looking white dress designed on the lines of a modest nightie that a girl still single and virginal might wear to go to sleep in her narrow bed. It had a high round neck, and rows of lace and ruffles covering the bosom.

  Short sleeves to expose young arms and a long sweep of skirt that spelled modesty in any language. I even brushed my hair out long teasing into curls and pulling the whole bunch back off my neck and tying it up with a bunch of blue ribbons.

  Then I applied the merest snitch of makeup. No color, only a little pink on the cheeks to simulate a girlish blush. No eye shadow color, only strategically placed white highlights to make the eyes look wide open and innocent. No red on the mouth either, just the slightest bit of gloss to suggest even further innocence.

  After I finished I gave myself a long survey in the mirror. Damned if I didn’t almost look, really, like a kid! If they had been holding auditions for cheerleader at the local high school back home I would have had absolutely no trouble making the squad!

  Dinner was served promptly, but I waited until I heard the sounds of the men on their way in before I slipped out of my room to join them. I wanted to be 2 or 3 minutes behind so that they would be all seated when I made my appearance.

  If all of this sounds stagy and contrived, believe me it was! I was studying and playing with these guys the way a trained professional courtesan would and the way a trained professional spy would at the same time! I had to hold their interest and keep them coming back for more.

  I glided slowly into the dining room, facing all the men who had just sat down. I gave my softest smile to Tony, who unaccountably stood up at the head of the table, his face livid with rage.

  “Get out of here!” he shouted at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out and get into your regular clothes!”

  I stood there stock-still; I couldn’t believe the suddenness of this verbal attack on me.

  “Get out, I said!” he screamed at me again, and I was astounded to see him put his hand to his belt buckle and start to loosen it as if he were going to draw it off and beat me with it.

  I didn’t wait to find out. I turned quickly on my heel and ran out and back down the corridor to my own room. I ran in quickly closing the door behind me. I had never been more astonished in my life.

  What had provoked his outrage, I wondered? What in the world could I possibly have done to turn the suave steady Tony into a livid and raging beast, ready to strike out with the nearest weapon he had?

  He had told me to change my clothes so I realized that the dress and countenance I had affected was absolutely the wrong card to have drawn.

  I wondered why? I hastily started to unbutton the simple white dress, replacing it quickly with a bright lavender jersey that clung to every curve and mold of my body. I whipped out some purple eye-shadow and deftly flicked it on my lids, finishing up with black mascara that lengthened and dramatized my eyes. I put on a complementing crimson lip color and just in time remembered to pull the ribbons out of my hair.

  I shook my head in disbelief at the attack that had just been made on me. At the same time tousling my hair and giving it that just got out of bed look that seemed to turn men on.

  I stared at myself in the mirror again. Touching here and there until I had convinced myself that I had completed the transition from what had so upset them to the hard tough pro look that they seemed to prefer.

  I walked back down the length of the house to the dining room, putting a sullen pout on my lips to show them that I was not at all pleased with the reception that they had just given me and that I was just mean enough to let it show.

  Meanness, and toughness just like their own seemed to be what they most admired in a woman. My attempts to give them a little variety of the little girl type had fallen flatter than a dead bomb…although the reactions had exploded more like a live one.

  Walking into the room I flicked a sidelong look at Tony and then took my seat without saying a word. I threw my shoulders back and made my breasts obvious and almost alive in the gloom that had descended over the table. Tony looked up at me and I thought he was going to say something about the improvement but he just looked and turned once again back to his food not saying a thing to me. Instead he turned to the gombar at his right and engaged in a enthusiastic conversation recalling various boyhood and early manhood pranks and scrapes they had gotten into as denizens of the tough streets of Little Italy so many years before. The other men joined in with them and soon the conversation was general, except for me. They began to talk about names that meant nothing to me with all the triviality of a bunch of guys at a class reunion. They spoke in the less polished English of those earlier years, throwing in Italian phrases here and there, in their sentences. Soon the Italian overtook the English and accept for a few bastardized words like “sub-machine-guns” or “Chase Manhattan,” I could barely make out what they were talking about.

  I knew that this was no accident. That Tony had deliberately had created this atmosphere to show me just what my place among them was. It was a rather subtle form of punishment, subtle that is, in that he chose to berate me verbally like this.

  I knew now, having witnessed the quickness of his anger to rise to the surface, that he could just as readily have gone all the way with that wide leather belt and thrashed me maybe to death. All for dressing in a manner that displeased him…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The dinner dragged on interminably. I wondered if part of the punishment would be for them to go on ignoring me. It was too late to send me to bed without any supper since I had already eaten, but they might have decided to send me off without any sex.

  I was hoping that this wouldn’t happen; if I were to be banished to my room it would be harder to keep track of them without it being discovered that I was doing just that. I wanted to go out to the fields tonight if it was at all possible.

  But I couldn’t risk doing it until I knew for an absolute certainty that they had all been tucked away and would be too tired to move around once they were asleep. I was counting on that total exhaustion of both body and senses that can only be induced by drugs that I could in no way use on them or by total sex gratification.

  It was my job to produce the latter. And if I wasn’t able to do it tonight as the sleep inducer that I needed, my timetable was going to be set back.

  The men were still babbling in that incoherent mix of Italian, Sicilian slang, and broken English. I couldn’t risk being slapped down by interrupting them nor could I take the upper hand by starting a sexual diversion. I had learnt that afternoon at the pool how far that got me, which was about two inches in the wrong direction. No, I would just have to calmly wait this out, crossing and uncrossing my legs, heaving deep bosom-shaking sighs, and just plain watching and waiting.

  If Tony wanted me to perform tonight he would let me know when he was good and ready or, as perverse toward me as his mood was, he might just keep me waiting around like this, waiting and then do nothing.

  There was no way to tell how it would go. I just had to sit there bored and sullen and wait to see what would happen.

  I was just sitting there examining my long scarlet painted fingernails for want of anything else to do when I realized that I was being stared at. I looked up quickly. It was Tony; he had caught me in his gaze like a ferreting bird grasping onto its small catch.

 

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