Chapter 5

Pam made her way toward the diner. Things looked even more run down in the night’s light than in the daylight.

Her quarrel with Fiana still stung. Maybe it was because they were becoming more frequent or maybe it was because Fiana was right. She lit a cigarette as she mulled over the words her lover shouted at her as she bounded down the stairwell of the apartment building. ‘Why do you have to go there? You quit one dump to go to another... it does not make sense! Just go to Ida. Ida will see to all of our needs and then we can stay home and just love, love, love. When I met you, you were on your way to becoming a great photographer. Do you remember? Why did you stop? What is wrong? I do not understand you milaya moya.’

Fiana had a point. Pam didn’t have to leave her alone; not ever. Her mother would happily support both of them. No doubt using it as a means to bridge the gap between mother and daughter and make up for the pain; pain that could have been avoided if Ida had only listened.

Life would be easier if she went to Ida. Maybe then she and Fiana could get back what was lost in their relationship. There was so much sadness and hurt associated with Ida; sadness and hurt that she managed to bury deep within. Did she really want to risk unleashing it? Could she allow Ida back into her life? What would happen then? Fiana had no idea of the truth about Pam’s childhood and Pam didn’t want her to know. She didn’t want anyone to know.

Pam stamped the cigarette out on the ground while cursing herself with disgust over her procrastination in quitting such a nasty habit. She used it as a crutch to deal with her pain and confusion and had yet to find a replacement. She felt foolish standing in this section of the city all dressed up. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistook her for a hooker. Where was Sylvia? This place gave her the creeps. If Sylvia didn’t arrive soon, she was going back to Fiana.

Her watch read 10:05 when Sylvia walked up hurriedly behind her, giving her a startled jump.

“Let’s go,” Sylvia said in a voice that was surprisingly crisp. “We’re late.”

Pam’s eyes lit up at the sight of her co-worker. They never met outside of the diner, so Pam never saw Sylvia dressed in anything other than their dowdy uniforms. The woman was a knockout! Full round breasts strained against the low cut bodice of her black silk dress. They teased Pam wantonly as they heaved up and down while Sylvia caught her breath from running three blocks. Her slim waist and rounded hips were accentuated by the well-tailored cut of her dress.

“My God girl, you’re looking at me like a man would.

It’s kind of creepy,” Sylvia said with a shudder.

Her words brought Pam back to reality and back in check. Sylvia had no idea Pam was a lesbian and she wasn’t about to let her know now. From some of the comments Sylvia made over their years of working together, she got the impression Sylvia wouldn’t be supportive of her choice in sexuality. It was better to keep her in the dark. At least for now.

A large black Lincoln pulled up and Sylvia grabbed the back door handle. She yanked the door opened and motioned for Pam to follow. The sexual tension that Pam experienced when she hopped into the back seat next to Sylvia was almost unbearable. What was happening to her? First the Asian man and now her co-worker? Her attraction to Sylvia was at least something she could explain, even if it was something she’d never experienced before. She loved Fiana in her own crazy way. Although she turned a blind eye on the rare occasions that Fiana explored and became promiscuous with other women, and sometimes men, she herself was faithful to Fiana.

Fiana had introduced Pam toward lesbianism. She showed her how lovely a woman’s body could be; not just for lustful sex, but for loving and touching and sharing. She found herself comparing her forty-two-year-old alcoholic lover with this twenty-seven-year-old vibrant, sexy-as-hell woman. The differences were intense and harsh.

“Where is this place?” Pam barked. Her words came out a little gruffer than intended as she struggled to hide her discomfort.

Sylvia seemed oblivious to Pam’s plight as she lit the remnants of a joint and handed it to Pam, who accepted it gratefully. Hoping to take edge off her overwhelming desire to descend on the bountiful breasts of the woman next to her, she smoked it greedily while looking at the back of the driver’s head. He seemed not to notice or care about them. Sylvia chuckled as Pam handed the smoldering stub back to her.

“Whose car is this?” Pam asked as she caressed the plush interior. The leather had a smooth, buttery feel to it. It reminded her of the car that took her to school each day when Ida was married to Chester. Flashes of Chester’s assaults in the back seat of the limousine flew forth from the recesses of her mind to assault her. She shook her head to clear them.

Sylvia took a long slow hit off the joint and held it in, causing her ripe breasts to expand and Pam’s loins to moisten. This was pure torture! Smoke gushed out of her lungs when she finally did expel and Pam breathed in deeply, hoping for the extra benefit of a contact high.

Pam’s headiness only served to intensify the tightness in her loins as Sylvia leaned against the door and stretched her legs, dangling the four inch heels off her foot in a manner that Pam thought was cruelly seductive.

“Jesus, don’t you ever shut up?” Sylvia grumbled while lifting a foot in the air. “These kill my feet but they sure are sexy, don’t you think? Let me see what you’re wearing.”

Grateful that Sylvia’s curt manner brought her back to reality, Pam sat up straight for the inspection. Sylvia turned on the overhead light and pulled Pam’s jacket open and then picked up one of her legs to get a closer look at her shoes. Although of excellent quality, they couldn’t be considered alluring, not in the slightest.

“I did mention this was a party, right?” Sylvia said as she clucked her tongue and shook her head. “We have to work on this baby. Undo the top button at least.”

“What kind of a job is this?” Pam asked as her hand flew up to her neckline defensively. She hadn’t questioned what Sylvia meant by the term “party hostess” until now.

“You’re gonna learn to walk the walk, talk the talk, dress in hot sexy clothes, and make money baby; some damn serious money. That’s what kind of job this is,” she replied briskly.

Pam’s gasped, “A hooker?”

Sylvia laughed wildly, “What do you think? Do you think that I put out for pay? Huh? Now, that’s funny. You’re a stitch!”

Pam settled into the seat and stared up at the driver of the car. She could see a faint smile on his face in the rear view mirror and her blood boiled. Flashes of the lustful looks on her stepfather’s driver’s face as he watched in the rear view mirror while her stepfather groped at her body made her want to punch this driver as hard as she could. She wanted to beat him silly.

She hadn’t ridden in a limousine since those days and now she remembered why. She hated the drivers. They were all disgusting voyeurs who got their jollies by watching perverts take advantage of girls in the back seats!

The car pulled up a long driveway and stopped in front of a Gothic style mansion. The driver got out and opened the door for Sylvia. She smiled with satisfaction at the driver’s obvious admiration as he took in every inch of her friend. Her friend looked him over slowly, sensually, while relaying silent messages to him that he consumed like a ravenous wolf. Satisfied, Sylvia strutted past the driver toward Pam, who’d let herself out of the other side of the car.

Pam stared in awe as the mansion’s front door opened and bright light spilled past the doorman. As impressive as the mansion was on the outside, it couldn’t have prepared her for the extravagant elegance that was housed within.

She followed Sylvia up steps that were adorned with finely scrolled metalwork that was painstakingly polished to show off its every detail. She felt almost sinful just stepping on them.

Corinthian columns were strategically placed throughout the grand room to support the twenty-foot ceiling that displayed a rich painting of the galaxies guarded by angels. The room was filled with richly tailored men and women. Their jeweled bodies glittered in the brilliant haze provided by the ornate crystal chandeliers. Pam had never seen anything so grand. She felt like she was living out a dream; a dream she never wanted to awaken from.

She followed Sylvia closely as the doorman led them across the room. As she stole a glance at the women seated in the chairs lined against the walls, she fondled her clothing self-consciously. Sylvia was right, she was terribly under dressed. A sudden urge to run and hide overtook her, but Sylvia grabbed her hand and pulled her along before she could do it.

“Never mind, Pamie,” she assured her, “Next time you’ll knock their socks off. Come now and meet Marty. He’s the boss. He throws these elaborate parties and pays us to keep the men entertained. No sex, unless you want it. He’s paying for looks and wit, honey. Most of these bad boys are business associates of his and he’s just looking to entertain them in style. Get it? Oh, here’s Marty now.”

Sylvia pointed to a tall, elegant Spaniard who was walking gracefully toward them. His meticulous dark suit sported a brilliant red handkerchief in its breast pocket. His hair was sleeked back with every strand in place and even from a distance it was easy to see that his hands were well manicured. His appearance, and the fact that two sexy looking women hovered around him, left no question to the depth of his sexuality.

“Ah, Sylvia, my love, who have we here?” Marty said as he circled Pam, while looking her up and down appreciatively. “Hmm, I think red,” Marty purred with a thick Spanish accent as he cupped his chin with his hand and rested his elbow on his arm. “Yes, red. You’d look absolutely ravishing in red. What’s your name, honey?”

“Pam,” Pam said with great effort. Her name seemed to stick in Pam’s throat as she fought back the panic and revulsion that this type of attention created.

Marty threw his head back in laughter as he continued to circle her slowly.

“Like the cooking spray,” he teased. “Good God! Priscilla is better, I think. Yes, Priscilla will do.” Marty snapped his fingers. “Sylvia, take Priscilla upstairs to the red wing and let them work their wonders on her. Will you, pigeon?”

Sylvia scowled. She’d just spotted Jacques, a very wealthy French businessman who she hoped to snare into marriage someday; or at least into a financially beneficial relationship. She’d diligently focused on just this for weeks and felt she was almost there. Time was against her since his business was concluded and he would be leaving in three days to return home. She needed every second available to her to work her magic.

“I thought I’d work,” she said with a hint of desperation. “I see my steady is here. What about Wendy, or Margaret? They can do it, can’t they?”

“Don’t worry, my love, I have some special guests reserved for you in the left wing. Pretty up your friend and meet me there. Hurry now. I have many guests in need of companionship,” Marty said as he clapped his hands together. “Come, come now. Move along.”

Marty watched as Sylvia grabbed Pam and hurriedly escorted her out of the room toward an elevator in the back hallway. He felt sorry for the poor woman. She’d unwittingly whispered her intentions for Jacques to the wrong confident and, when Jacques discovered them, he immediately paid Marty a visit. Marty was given strict orders to keep Sylvia away from him for the duration of his visit. Marty held a soft spot for Sylvia and wished he could spare her the humiliation and hurt that Jacques’ request was going to cause her, but there was nothing he could do. Jacques was a very powerful and wealthy client and he couldn’t ignore his wishes. Sylvia would get over it. They always did.

****

The elevator door opened and Pam and Sylvia stepped out onto the thick, plush carpet in the corridor.

Everything was a different shade of red. Pam was amazed at how tastefully these varied shades blended; making what should be gaudy, anything but. A half-dozen women immediately circled them as they walked deep into the enormous red room. They listened intently as Sylvia relayed Marty’s desires.

Thirty tortuous minutes later, Sylvia led Pam back down into the great ballroom to seek Marty’s approval. They were directed into a smaller, yet still grand, room where they found him laughing heartily with a sophisticated looking elderly man and a petite and elegantly attired young woman.

The room was filled with men in fine suits, mingling with finely dressed women and a few flamboyantly dressed men.

Marty stopped laughing and turned to greet the two women. He grasped both of Pam’s hands and pulled her in front of him.

“You are a vision, mi amour,” he purred, “a pure vision. Now go and mingle. Mingle!”

An equally well dress, tall and slender man walked up to Marty and whispered in his ear. The pair laughed and walked away. As if as an afterthought, Marty turned back toward them, “Sylvia, my pigeon, you come with me.”

“Be friendly, sweet, and very interested in the shit they are babbling about. Marty pays up at the end of the night. Remember, it’s three hundred bucks a party, plus whatever tips the guests give you. They can be sweet; depending on how happy you make them, of course. Just walk around and smile, one of them will grab you soon enough. You’re gorgeous, you know.” Sylvia said softly.

She gave Pam’s hand a light squeeze before hurrying to catch up with Marty. Her disappointment was barely concealed when he directed her to a balding man who stood several inches shorter than her.

Pam stood in confusion as the full impact of what was expected of her sunk in. She was so absorbed in her deliberation about how badly she wanted or even needed the three hundred dollars that she was oblivious to the presence of the tall man who approached her.

“We have something in common,” he said. “They tell me you are new here. So am I.”

Pam looked up into rich dark eyes that had a kind softness to them. She briefly studied his strong, narrow face that ended with a square jaw. Not only was it strikingly pleasant to look at, but it looked to be a kind face. He seemed sincere in his nervousness over being a newcomer. Perhaps this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“My name is Gustof. Shall we get a drink?” he asked warmly.

The scene felt like something from an old fashioned movie as Pam accepted the arm Gustof offered. She giggled to herself as she peered through the crowd, searching for the hidden camera man. This was much better than serving toast with jelly to Chuck every day.