Читать книгу Who Wants To Be A Sex Goddess? - Gemma Bruce - Страница 9

Andy stood in the hallway, her course booklet open, as women scurried past her into classrooms. It seemed as though she was the only one who didn’t have a plan. Not one that included learning to be a goddess. Though with everyone in class, it wasn’t likely that she’d glean any more information about Mac’s sudden departure. And she’d learned all she could from the girls at the pool.

She walked past the auditorium and dining room and paused at the next door, where the second session of Knowing What You Want was being held. She had no desire to deal with Carmen and her pointed questions this afternoon.

She stopped outside the next door to read the scrolled sign there: Getting Rid Of Your Inhibitions. Not exactly her problem. The next was Training Your Man.

Andy grimaced. She didn’t have one, and she certainly wouldn’t want to train him if she did. What if she trained him wrong and was stuck with the results, ’til death did them part? She’d just keep to the Hollywood shuffle. Less work, more fun—no messy endings, just a “it’s been swell.”

Who was she kidding? Most of the time, it was just empty lust gratification. And it was the only fulfillment that she and half the women in HW were getting. She wanted more.

She stomped down on the thought. She didn’t have time for more. She was too busy to put someone else first, didn’t have the attention span to develop a relationship. Nor the allure to keep a man once he was in her bed. Stuntwomen were in demand, but they were nameless, faceless stand-ins. How many times did someone leave a theater saying, “Andy McAllister was great, wasn’t she? I’ve seen all her movies.”

Never.

No, better she should find Mac and leave goddess-ness to the others. Though she wouldn’t mind getting to know Dillon better, a lot better.

If she just knew that Mac was okay, she might stay. Let Jeannie fix her hair and slowly transform back to herself. At least then, the money her family had forked out for her tuition wouldn’t be totally wasted.

She turned away from the sign. First things first. She needed to call home—now. There must be a phone in the business office. Even with the retreat’s philosophy of no distractions, they must make allowances for the real world. There were food orders and advertising to coordinate. And the attendees were businesswomen, mothers, movers and shakers. Nobody could go three weeks without contact with the outside world. She’d just walk in and ask.

She took the stairs to the second floor. She passed several classrooms reserved for advanced training and came to another hallway. An AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign was posted on the wall. She peered around the corner. Heard the whir of fax machines and printers.

She’d reached Goddess Central.

She started down the hallway, but had gone only a few feet, when a door opened and Dr. Bliss stepped out. She saw Andy and smiled.

It was Andy’s first close-up of the sex guru, and she was pleasantly surprised. She was dressed in an off-white pantsuit of soft satiny material. Her hair was caught up into a soft topknot of silver curls.

Her tall, willowy body seemed to glide effortlessly down the hall as she came forward, smiling, her hands held out, palms up as if half in question and half in an offering of help. The doctor’s penetrating gaze locked on Andy’s, seeming to look into her soul. Andy shoved her glasses up her nose. The doctor became a blur.

Even so, Andy felt the power of the sex guru’s charisma. She didn’t strike Andy as someone who would commit murder. Even for billions of dollars. And certainly not for whatever Aunt Mac had.

But Andy hadn’t grown up with actors, those perfected liars-for-hire, without learning that a good actor could tap into any emotion, any persona, and make his audience believe it.

Dr. Bliss stopped in front of her. “Are you lost?”

“I was…”

But before she could say “looking for a phone,” the doctor said, “You’ve wandered into the business section. There are a few classrooms on this floor, but they are the advanced workshops for Initiates, Handmaidens, and Priestesses.”

Andy wondered how she could spout those ridiculous titles with a straight face. But the doctor was serious about her goddess training.

“Let’s see. You’re Ariadne McAllister, correct?”

“Uh, yes.”

“We had another McAllister at the last session. Miranda, I believe her name was, yes, Miranda McAllister Houston. A relation of yours, perhaps?”

Damn. Of course, the application had a blank for middle names. She should have used an alias. Did they know why she was here? She swallowed. “I don’t believe so.”

“And how are you enjoying your participation so far?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Good. Carmen was telling us at our lunchtime staff meeting that you attended her Knowing What You Want workshop.” She tilted her head and looked into the Coke-bottle lenses as if she could read Andy’s thoughts.

Andy had to fight the urge to apologize for being such a recalcitrant Novice. She knew she was falling under the doctor’s spell, just like everyone else did. And she knew the doctor expected her to tell all. It was part of the program.

After several uncomfortable seconds, the doctor’s eyes released Andy’s. She took Andy’s elbow and gently, but firmly, began steering her back toward the stairs.

“It’s sometimes a little overwhelming at first,” said Dr. Bliss, sympathetically. “But we all have each other’s success at heart. I know Carmen’s enthusiasm can sometimes be a little intimidating. It’s just that she wants everyone to find the joy she has found.”

Andy forced herself to smile. If Carmen was an example of the joy ozone found at Terra Bliss, she was welcome to it. As far as Andy could tell, Carmen and Jane were locked in one of those Olympian catfights that the Greeks were so well known for.

Somehow, they had reached the stairs.

“I need to call my mother,” Andy blurted out.

Dr. Bliss looked surprised.

No wonder. Andy sounded like a querulous child. And she felt querulous, not to mention just damned pissed off. She’d like to wring Galena’s neck for getting her into this.

“She’s not well.” Sorry, Galena, but you are just a tad on the sicko side. “I want to make sure she’s okay, uh, so I can really concentrate on my goddess training.” Not bad. She saw the flicker of interest in the doctor’s eyes before it faded and the knowing smile returned.

She started them down the stairs. “It’s wonderful that you care for your mother. But you do understand that we have a reason for our no-calls policy.

“Terra Bliss is a haven for us to discover our true natures. To turn our lives around and seek what we really want. It’s difficult to do if we let the ties that bind us to the outside world pull us from our purpose. Here we want to stay totally concentrated on uncovering the goddess within us. To retrain ourselves to listen to our inner eternal feminine, to do what’s good for us. Without pressure from our everyday responsibilities. To learn to demand pleasure from those with whom we have intercourse.” She smiled. “All kinds of intercourse. Isn’t that why you’re here, Ariadne?”

Wariness skittered up Andy’s spine. Had she imagined that sinister undertone? She looked hard at the doctor. The woman appeared completely peaceful, seemingly at one with her goddess love, almost otherworldly—a little too perfect to be real.

Andy had to stifle a shudder. If that’s what eternal orgasms did to you, she’d take the thirty-second kind and be happy to get them. This whole setup was beginning to give her the willies.

“Now, let’s see if…Ah, I have just the workshop for you.” Dr. Bliss steered Andy down the hall and stopped outside a door. “Achieving the Specs That Make You Special. It’s led by Jane Parsons.”

Great, thought Andy. Carmen’s evil twin. She didn’t think she was up for both of the acid acolytes on her first day. But before she could say she’d rather pass, Dr. Bliss opened the door.

A dozen women, sitting on the standard couches and armchairs, turned to stare at them.

Jane’s face lit up.

“Ah, Jane,” said Dr. Bliss. “Sorry to interrupt, but Ariadne would like to join your discussion.” She turned to the rest of the women. “Please, welcome Ariadne.” There were smiles and murmurs around the room.

Jane was so happy, Andy was afraid she might fall to her knees and start kowtowing. “Of course, Dr. Bliss. Won’t you come in?” She motioned to Andy, but her eyes were fixed on the doctor, who was obviously the sun of her existence.

Dr. Bliss beamed around at everyone and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Andy found herself standing alone in the middle of the floor. A young woman about Andy’s age motioned her over to the free place on the couch next to her.

“Well,” said Jane, as soon as Andy sat down. “We’ve heard from Carol. So-o-o. Tell us, Ariadne. What makes you special?”

When lunch was over, Dillon went to look for Rusty. He wanted to find out more about this Miranda who’d left in the middle of the last session. And who would know better than the woman’s attendant?

They’d already investigated the whereabouts of each of the Goddess International executives on the night of Imogene Southwaite’s fall to her death. Each had a solid alibi.

Which meant if they were involved, they had hired someone to do their dirty work. Possibly someone working at Terra Bliss. Which made everybody suspect, so he would have to be careful with his questioning. With the disappearance of Miranda Houston, Dillon might have more than one possible murder on his hands. And if there were two, they might be planning more.

But Rusty was nowhere to be found. Dillon went back to the dorms to wait. He was still waiting when it was time to dress for dinner.

He splashed aftershave on his face and opened his closet. There was a clean kilt inside. He kept his room locked, which meant the laundry staff, and probably others, had a master key.

Fortunately, he had nothing for them to discover. He was working solo with nothing but a cell phone that didn’t work. He knew that his superiors were only marginally interested in this case, and they had assigned it to Dillon so that he could prove himself once again. The outcome would determine his future.

If he blew it, his life as an agent would be over. He wouldn’t even get a purple heart for getting mangled in the line of duty. Because units that didn’t exist didn’t get medals. Well, he’d think of something. Become a private investigator or go into his brother’s sporting goods business.

He pulled the towel from his waist and flung it across the room. No, damn it, they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming out of the department. He stopped, the kilt held up to his waist but not buttoned. Did he really want to keep working for them? Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the thought of being drummed out because he wasn’t up to standard anymore.

It was something he’d better figure out and soon.

He finished buttoning the kilt, slipped his feet into the sandals, and running fingers through his shower-wet hair, he crossed the hall to knock on Rusty’s door. While he was standing there, the outside door opened and Rusty ran inside.

“What’s up?” he asked, panting for breath. He unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. “Come on in. I’m late as hell and I’ve got salad duty.”

“Where have you been?” asked Dillon, following him inside.

“Review meeting with the Great Dane. Brrr.” Rusty paused in the middle of pulling off his gym shorts. “Just routine.”

“Sure,” agreed Dillon. “Do you have time to answer a couple of questions?”

Rusty stopped completely. His eyebrows snapped together. “About what?”

Interesting reaction, thought Dillon, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s about your goddess from the last session.”

“Miranda?” Rusty dropped to his hands and knees and began searching under the bed. One sandal flew out, then another. “Nice lady. But one day she just leaves without a word.”

“Do you know why?”

Rusty stopped and looked up at Dillon. “No. Why are you asking?”

“Just something I overheard today. That she sort of…disappeared.”

“Yeah, well. You could call it that. Left during the night without a word of warning. At least not to me.” He stood up and slipped into his sandals. “I got my ass chewed out by the high mother honcho for mistreating her. Which I didn’t. Now I’m on probation. If it hadn’t been for Ms. Dane, I’d probably have been fired.” He shrugged and yanked his kilt out of the closet. “It wasn’t anything I did.”

“You and Demetri are both on probation?”

“Several of us are. They run a mucho tight ship here. No stepping out of line. Which is hard to do when you’re never really sure where the lines are. I mean, if they want to fuck, you can fuck them. But if they don’t, you don’t. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Just play it safe and you should be okay.”

“Did this Miranda want you to…make love to her?”

“Never came up. She was a very cool lady. Very desirable, though she was a good fifty or so. I think she must have been here for a refresher course, ’cause she had the moves.” He headed for the door.

“And no one’s ever heard from her?”

Rusty stopped and turned on Dillon. “No. What’s it to you, man?”

“Just curious. I don’t want my goddess disappearing on me.”

“You sure as hell don’t. So be careful, because she looks about as skittish as they come.”

Yeah, thought Dillon as he followed Rusty outside. There probably wouldn’t be any requests for any serious lovemaking from that quarter. Too bad. Because he thought that Ariadne McAllister might have a few moves of her own.

“Just one more thing.”

“What are you, the FBI?”

Not on a cold day in hell, thought Dillon. “Nah, just curious. What did the honchos say about why she left?”

“Just that she’d gone. And they didn’t hear from her again. At least not while the session lasted, because me and several others kept asking. Everybody really liked her.”

“These wealthy types, they never think about shit like that. Once she was away, she probably forgot all about you.”

They’d reached the steps of the main building, and Rusty paused. “Not Miranda. She had bread, but she didn’t flaunt it or even seem to give too much of a shit about it. You coming in?”

Dillon shook his head. “No. I’m not scheduled for another fifteen minutes.”

“Then see ya later.” Rusty ran up the steps, leaving Dillon outside in the growing dusk.

Andy stood on the steps of the Pantheon, feeling rather pleased with herself. She was one of the few that had managed not to tell their life story or burst into tears during Jane’s class. Jane wasn’t the most patient group leader in the world and a few “um” s and “ah” s went a long way.

She saw Loubelle’s slave, Rusty, hurrying across the lawn. Good. He’d been Mac’s slave the last session. He might know something about her disappearance.

She put on her Ray-Bans and hurried down to intercept him. Then she saw who was with him. Mr. tall, dark, and wearing a kilt.

She couldn’t question Rusty with Dillon looking on. She wasn’t sure she trusted him. All that loitering around during lunch. She’d been flattered, but the more she thought about it, the more he seemed like one of those James Bond villains. All finesse on the outside, lethal monster on the inside.

She quickly ducked inside the closest copse of trees and watched them walk toward the Pantheon. They parted at the steps. Rusty went inside, but Dillon turned around and gazed out over the lawn. Andy slunk farther into the trees. Was he looking for someone?

He began walking toward the edge of the woods, so nonchalantly that he looked suspicious. She crept to the other side of the copse in time to see him saunter around to the back of the Pantheon. She suddenly had an urge to see what was back there.

Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of the shelter of the trees and sprinted across the lawn. Once she reached the path, she doubled back through the woods and got a good look at Dillon, staring fixedly at the second-floor windows.

What was he doing? Contemplating Windex and a squeegee? Or planning a little breaking and entering? There was more to her slave than a pretty face and a dynamite body. He was up to no good. But what the hell, she’d dated bigger crooks than a two-bit second-story man. And besides, he’d just given her a brilliant idea.

She slipped back to her cabin, showered, and changed into her white shirt and goddess robe. On a whim, she braided her hair and let it fall down her back. It felt wonderful after two days of bobby pin torture. She still looked prim. And with the new hairdo, everyone would think she was really getting something out of this goddess business.

She was only slightly disappointed when Dillon didn’t come to escort her to dinner. Probably too busy casing the joint or practicing carrying a water pitcher without dropping it. They should probably put him on napkin duty. You couldn’t hurt anybody with a napkin.

Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie showed up at her door instead, and the four of them walked down to the dining room.

“Where’s Dillon tonight?” Jeannie asked Demetri as he filled her water glass.

“He’s setting up the orientation room for the film tonight.”

Good, thought Ariadne. At least he wouldn’t be carrying those heavy dinner trays. She shuddered. The possibilities were daunting.

Rusty set down a tray of salad plates. Demetri scowled at him. The man sure seemed to scowl a lot. Except at Jeannie. For her, he had wide, knowing smiles. He was forever brushing her arm when he served her. Lingered at the back of her chair. Whispered in her ear.

He gave Andy the creeps, but Jeannie seemed to revel in his attentions. Rusty and Louis, on the other hand, were perfect gentlemen, which also seemed to agree with Loubelle and Evelyn.

Which was good, because Andy really didn’t want to have to readjust her first impressions to include sweet Loubelle and the sophisticated Evelyn having torrid sex with men young enough to be their grandsons.

“What kind of film?” asked Andy, imagining Bad Girls of Carthage.

They’re showing Roman Holiday tonight. Followed by more dessert and coffee,” said Evelyn.

“They feed us so much, you’d think we were training for chubby cherubim instead of goddess.” Andy clapped a hand over her mouth. That was stupid. Never try to join in the fun; it will catch you out every time.

The other three stared at her for a second, then smiled simultaneously.

“I just love Gregory Peck,” said Loubelle. “Such a gentleman.”

“Yes,” said Evelyn. “Even when playing a scamp. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

Loubelle sighed. “They sure don’t. The way he looks at Audrey Hepburn just makes you know he loves her.”

Yoo-hoo. He’s an actor, thought Andy. Not real. A big phony. And was shocked by her reaction. She always dated actors. And they were all big phonies. She really did need to get a life. Not with an actor and not with a stuntman like her family wanted. Stuntmen were macho, unreliable, easily threatened by stuntwomen, and there was always the possibility they’d get a head injury and end up a vegetable. Not a rosy future.

And even worse, she was lusting after a man who made a living dressed as a Greek slave and catering to lonely women. Where were the good, stable, bread-earning men, who did dishes and gave eternal orgasms?

“Well, you can have your gentlemen. I’ll take the scamps.” Jeannie leaned down by her chair and brought up two bottles of wine from her carryall. “Do you indulge? We do. Every night.”

“Yes,” Andy said, then remembered her pitiful self. “A little.”

“Good.” Jeannie lifted her chin and Demetri sauntered over. He uncorked the wine and made a big to-do over handing the cork to Jeannie. She smelled it, then tasted the wine and nodded. He filled the other glasses and left the bottle on the table.

“Well,” said Jeannie, when he’d gone away. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to tell from smelling a cork, but since I bought it, I figure it’s gotta be good.” And she held up her glass for a toast.

Dinner got a lot better with a 1964 Greysac Medoc. Andy regretfully limited herself to one glass.

“Do the slaves and staff watch the movies, too?”

“Not usually—they really do work like slaves. They can either join us or have free time,” said Evelyn. “The staff always has a debriefing session at night.”

Hmmm, thought Andy. The stairs would save a lot of wear and tear on her toga. She’d give it another shot. “I think I will have some more,” she said and pushed her wineglass toward Jeannie.

The movie began shortly after dinner. As soon as the lights went down and the theme music began, Andy leaned over to Loubelle, who was sitting next to her.

“Bathroom. Back in a bit.”

Loubelle nodded, her eyes on the screen. She was already lost in celluloid idol land. Andy crawled over the two goddesses at the end of the aisle and slipped out the door—right into Carmen and Jane.

They were arguing so heatedly that they didn’t even see her.

“…stealing my trainee,” Carmen snarled Jane rolled her eyes. “Dr. Bliss brought her.” She smiled and Carmen turned redder. Andy froze in the doorway until they had climbed the stairs and their hissed conversation died away.

Then she followed them. She stopped at the top of the stairs in time to see the two acolytes go into a classroom. The door closed behind them. The staff meeting. Andy looked quickly around, saw no one else. Listened. Nothing but the din of clearing away from the dining room below.

She scuttled past the door of the staff meeting and started down the hall. When she reached the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL sign, she hesitated, then looked around the corner. The corridor was dark except for a lone auxiliary light at the far end which illuminated a second staircase. The business section had closed for the night.

She walked slowly toward the light, trying to keep her footsteps from sounding. Paused to read the sign on the first door.

ETERNAL ORGASM, APPOINTMENTS ONLY. She had to stifle a laugh. Next came the Staff Room, and on the left Dr. Bliss’s personal office. At last she came to the Business Office. She tried the knob. It didn’t budge.

Andy sighed. It looked as if she’d be using that grappling hook after all.

A sudden noise made her snatch her hand away. She cocked her head, listening. Someone was coming up the back stairs, more than one person. She could hear them laughing.

She whirled around, but there was no place to hide. She began running back down the hallway, though she knew she’d never make it before they saw her.

She was two-thirds of the way down when she ran into something hard. She registered skin and chest hair. She grimaced and pushed away.

Of course. Her life was under a cloud. Dillon Cross folded his arms over his scrumptious chest and looked down at her. Then he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall.

She only had time to think, trapped, before his body crushed hers and his arms pinned her to the wall. She tried to release her knee, though a kick to the groin wouldn’t get her very far; she didn’t have the leverage. She could hear footsteps echoing down the linoleum, approaching rapidly.

“Relax,” he ordered.

Andy blinked. “The hell I will.”

She saw the flash of his grin before his lips came down on hers.