Jackie Collins, page 53
"No," he said firmly.
"She wants to fuck you," Carlysle said.
"According to you everyone wants to fuck me."
"When this movie comes out they will. You can take odds on it."
Carlysle, as usual, was right. The producer poured him a vodka on the
rocks and sat opposite him, crossing and uncrossing her long elegant
legs while he attempted to read the script. She'd already informed him
it was under wraps and could not leave her hands.
Twenty pages in and she dropped her skirt, revealing a black lace
garter belt, stockings and a black bush. She obviously did not believe
in panties.
He remembered the stoplight where she'd ignored him, and he fucked her
good.
Afterward she asked him what he thought of the script.
"Not bad," he said confidently. "But the fuck was great."
Carlysle wanted details. She savored every juicy one, and it turned
her on so much that they made out in an alley behind the latest hot
disco where they were attending a party.
Meanwhile he called Annie every other day. She sounded fine. He was
relieved, at least he had her under control.
One day he received a distraught call from Joey's hooker girlfriend.
"Those bastards beat Joey up good," she said. "He's in the
hospital."
As soon as he finished work he rushed over to visit. Joey lay in a
public ward with bandaged limbs and a pulped face. His eyes were mere
slits and his lips swollen to twice their size.
"This is really nice," Nick said cheerfully. "Can't leave you alone
for a minute. How'd it happen?"
"Got in a fight," Joey mumbled.
"What with-a meat truck?"
Joey tried to raise his arm. "Don' make me laugh."
Later he talked to Joey's girlfriend again and found out the true
story. Joey owed big money on account of a heroin habit he wasn't
about to quit.
"I'll take care of it," Nick promised, and he went to Carlysle and
asked to borrow money so he could help Joey out. "I wanna put him into
some kind of clinic-get him straight," he explained. "It costs, an' I
don't have that kind of bucks. This'll be a loan-I'll even pay
interest."
Carlysle was unconcerned. "My mother handles all my money, she said,
blithely dismissing his problem. "I can't touch it."
You could if you wanted to, bitch.
He went to his producer. She asked questions. Satisfied with his
answers, she agreed to the loan in exchange for an option agreement
making him available for her next film.
In Los Angeles Meena Caron objected bitterly. "I'm hearing excellent
reports, Nick. It would be suicide to tie you up now.
"Gotta help a friend," he explained, and signed the agreement.
Before the mdvie was over the word was out. There was a new hot
property on the horizon. And his name was Nick Angel.
0 you, Lauren Roberts, take this man, Oliver Liberty, to be your
lawfully wedded husband?"
She hesitated for only a second. "I do," she said breathlessly.
"Do you, Oliver Liberty, take this woman, Lauren Roberts, to be your
lawfully wedded wife?"
He turned to look at her, his eyes full of pride. "I do."
They stood on the terrace of his house in the Bahamas overlooking a
glorious never-ending white beach and a bluer-than-blue ocean.
The setting was idyllic. Lauren wore a simple white dress and flowers
in her hair. Their witnesses were Oliver's housekeeper and her
husband-a friendly black couple who did nothing but beam happily.
When she said "I do" Lauren felt a shudder of apprehension. She was
giving her life to another human being. She was joining with Oliver
and things would never be quite the same.
It's what you want, isn't it, Roberts?
No.
Don't think that way.
What I want is Nick Angelo.
Oh, for God's sake.
Oliver bent to kiss her and she quickly shut out the images of her
past.
Later that night they dined quietly, just the two of them on the
terrace overlooking the sea.
"So, my darling," he said, clasping her hand. "How do you feel?"
She wasn't sure how she felt. "Lightheaded, I guess."
"That's good, because I feel I'm the luckiest man in the world," he
said, clinking his champagne glass with hers.
She sipped her champagne and listened to the soothing sound of the surœ
I'm Mrs. Oliver Liberty.
He's forty years older than me.
I don't care.
You've married a father figure.
That's not true.
After dinner Oliver retired to his study to make a few phone calls.
"It'll give you time to relax," he said.
Why would she require time to relax on her wedding night?
She wandered around the house, finally settling in the master
bedroom.
It was a light and airy room, decorated in earth tones, with another
picturesque view. There was an intricate white lace cover on the bed
and piles of luxurious cushions. She wondered who'd decorated it, wife
number one or wife number two? She decided it was wife number one-far
too tasteful for wife number two.
In the pale beige limestone bathroom she took a shower and slipped into
the sheer white nightgown she'd purchased specially for her wedding
night. By the time she returned to the bedroom Oliver was lying on the
bed in silk pajamas perusing a stack of mail.
"Don't you ever stop?" she asked, standing silhouetted in the
doorway.
"I believe in taking advantage of every moment. This is correspondence
I didn't have time to deal with before I left."
She moved over to the bed. "Was it absolutely necessary to bring it on
our honeymoon?"
He must have noticed her tone of annoyance, because he pushed the mail
to one side. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching for her hand.
"You, my darling," he continued, looking at her for the first time,
"are absolutely ravishing.
Will you ravish me tonight, Oliver?
Will you ravish me until I can't breathe?
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Come over here," he said, pulling her down onto the bed.
This was the first night of their married life and she wanted it to be
memorable. So far their sex life had not progressed very far. Oliver
kept telling her that when they were married things would be different,
and she was ready for the change. She needed a man to take her on a
passionate trip. Only Nick had managed to satisfy her every need, and
she craved that same satisfaction.
Oliver began to kiss and caress her. She responded with a passion
she'd kept hidden from him before. "Oliver, tonight should be
memorable . . ." she murmured, voicing her thoughts.
"Isn't our lovemaking always memorable?" he asked smoothly.
No, it's not. We've never made love properly. All you've done is make
love to me with your tongue.
She demonstrated with actions what she wanted to do to him. As she
began to bend her head, he stopped her abruptly. "What are you
doing?"
"I'm going to make you very happy."
"No, Lauren. I don't like you to do that."
"But you do it to me all the time. In fact, that's all you do."
"Because you deserve it."
Deserve it? What kind ofcomment is that?
"Oliver, let me do this to you. You know you'll love it."
"No, Lauren, I will not love it. I refuse to see you in that
position."
"I only want to please you," she said.
"I know, my darling, but that doesn't please me. It's an act I
associate with sex for sale. It's demeaning and I don't expect you to
do it."
She was shocked by his words. Surely, when two people were married
-nothing was demeaning if it was something they both desired?
But if that was the way he wanted it, so be it.
They kissed and caressed some more. His hands fondled her breasts,
stroking her gently. Then his head began traveling down her body,
heading for what he considered to be his proper destination.
Some women might be wild with joy at the thought of a man who gave them
nonstop oral sex, but she'd had enough. Especially as he wouldn't
allow her to do it to him.
"No, Oliver," she said, moving. "I want you to make love to me
properly."
"But, my darling, you enjoy every second of what I do to you.
"Tonight it should be different," she said, reaching to feel his
hardness, and disappointed to discover he was only semi-erect.
"Lauren, my darling," he said, drawing away.
"Yes?"
"I have no desire to disappoint you."
"Why would you disappoint me?"
"Because I'm not twenty-five."
She couldn't help being sarcastic. "Oh, really? And I thought you
were.
"Don't be flippant. When I was a young man I made love all night
long.
When I got to be older I realized there were other pleasures that could
give a woman more joy than anything else."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm not sure I can satisfy you in the way you expect."
"Why can't we try?"
"It's simply that "He hesitated. "Well since I had my pacemaker-"
"Pacemaker?" she said, alarmed.
"Surely I mentioned it? About two years ago I had a heart
irregularity, nothing serious. My doctors decided a pacemaker would
solve the problem."
"You never told me, Oliver."
"I probably didn't think it was that important."
"Of course it's important. We're married. I should know everything
about you.
"Why? Would it have made a difference?"
"No . . ." Her mind was racing. A pacemaker. Did that mean he was
sick? If they made love could he suddenly die? Oh, God, what had she
gotten herself into?
He got up and walked over to the window. "I'm sorry, my dear.
You're right, I should have told you."
She tried to make it easier for him. "Well, you didn't and now I
know.
But we can still make love, can't we?"
"Yes."
"Then come back to bed. I'm not demanding. All I want is to be close
to you.
They stayed in the Bahamas for ten days, during which time Lauren
realized she'd married a man who was not prepared to consummate their
marriage in the normal way. The truth was he wanted to make love to
her his way or not at all. And although his way was very pleasant, it
was hardly the same as being joined together with another person.
Oliver was also obsessed with business. She'd thought that once he was
away from the office he'd be able to relax. She'd imagined long walks
on the beach, swimming, snorkeling, maybe taking a boat out.
She did all of those things by herself, because Oliver spent most of
his time on the phone.
Occasionally the subject of the Marcella girl came up. When he'd first
suggested the idea she'd said a very resounding no. However, he wasn't
prepared to take no for an answer. Every other day he asked if she'd
changed her mind.
"I told you, Oliver, I'm not a model, nor do I want to be."
"I understand," he replied. "But this is hardly a modeling
assignment.
You'll be spokesperson for Marcella. You'll also make a lot of money,
become well known and enjoy every minute of it."
She disagreed. The idea of making money was appealing, but she had no
wish to become well known.
Pia called from New York. "Well? Are you going to do it or not?"
"Not," she said firmly.
"You're blowing an opportunity if you don't," Pia said. "What have you
got to lose? Oh, and by the way, take a look at yesterday's Daily
News. There's a photo of that Nick Angel guy-the one who called you.
You didn't tell me he was an actor. And you certainly didn't tell me
he was gorgeous.
When Lauren hung up she immediately searched for yesterday's New York
papers. Sure enough, on page five of the News there was a picture of
Nick with Carlysle Mann. She studied the picture, then read the copy:
Garlysle Mann, out on the town with her new co-star, Nick Angel.
Garlysle and Nick are shooting Night City on location in New York.
Word has it that Nick lights up the screen, especially in the sex
scenes-ofwhich there are many. Ladies, look out he could be your new
Saturday night rave Nick was actually in a movie! She could hardly
believe it. Nick Angel-whatever happened to Angelo? God! He was a
professional actor! He'd done what they'd both talked and dreamed
about.
She stared at his picture again, and hated Carlysle-which was stupid,
because she didn't even know her. Then she read the copy through three
times, folded the paper and put it in a drawer.
Later that day she approached Oliver. As usual, he was on the phone.
"Hang up," she said, standing in front of him.
He covered the mouthpiece. "What's the matter?"
"Hang up. I have to talk to you.
He excused himself and put the phone down. "I hope this is important,"
he said irritably "It is."
"Well?"
"I'm accepting."
"You're accepting what?"
"I'll be the Marcella girl."
He perked up. "Really?"
"Yes, Oliver. And I want Samm to be my agent. She'll negotiate my
price."
He laughed. "She'll negotiate your price?"
"I'm expensive," Lauren said. "But if you want me you'll pay."
Back in New York Pia waddled around looking like she was going to drop
the kid any moment. Lauren realized that if she was going to embark on
this Marcella girl campaign, then it was time to think seriously about
Help Unlimited.
"What do you want to do?" she asked Pia. "You're having a baby,
you've got Howard to look after. Maybe we should dissolve the
business.
"I like having the business," Pia said. "Although I suppose you're
right. I won't have the time to spend there. And if you get the
Marcella job, neither will you."
It was sad, but they decided the best thing to do was to close it
down.
Lauren met with Samm, who was quite amused by the turn of events. "Do
you realize how many of my models will want to scratch your eyes out,
darling?" she said. "They'll say you used your influence with the
boss."
"No, Samm-he used his influence with me. But I want a killer deal,
otherwise I'm not doing it."
Samm nodded. "I like killer deals. Are you giving me permission to
walk in and make the deal of the century?"
Lauren smiled. "That's exactly what I'm doing."
"And can I stroll casually away if they don't care to accept it?"
