Читать книгу Naughty Marietta - Nan Ryan, Nan Ryan - Страница 11

Harry disclosed that the wealthy Taylor Maltese provided his adored Marietta with luxurious living quarters; a five-room rooftop suite above the Tivoli Opera House. Not only that, the multimillionaire had persuaded a renowned Italian voice coach to come to Central City to tutor Marietta. It was rumored that he paid the woman generously to teach and train Marietta. Exclusively. The voice coach was allowed to have no other students.

Cole listened as the talkative Harry supplied answers to questions that hadn’t been asked. “The voice coach, Sophia somebody, I don’t know her last name—you should see her, she’s bigger than me.” Harry laughed then and patted his big belly. “She lives in a nice little cottage near the opera house. Maltese pays the lease. Some folks wonder why she doesn’t live with her only pupil. There’s plenty of room in Marietta’s private quarters. But I guess Maltese doesn’t want anyone around when he visits his ladylove.” Harry winked conspiratorially.

Cole smiled and said casually, “I’m surprised he allows Marietta to live alone. Isn’t he worried she might entertain someone other than him in her quarters.”

“Not a chance of that happening,” said Harry. “He watches her like a hawk. Or, rather, his minions do. She goes nowhere without the Burnett boys tagging along. And, when she’s at home, one or the other of the brothers stands guard below on the sidewalk. Night and day. Maltese is no fool. The way I see it, she’s his, bought and paid for. And Maltese protects his property.”

“Can’t say that I blame him,” Cole replied. Just then, people, laughing and talking, began streaming into the foyer beyond the gaming room. Cole turned his head, glanced in their direction and said, “Looks like the opera is over.”

“Yes. I’ll be pretty busy now,” said Harry.

“Time for me to be getting back to the hotel,” said Cole. “Nice talking to you, Harry.”

“Same here,” said the barkeep. “You come again.” Harry screwed up his florid face then and added, “I’m losing my touch. We’ve talked for more than an hour and I know nothing about you other than the fact that you’re from Texas.”

“Not much to know,” said Cole. “I’m just your typical music lover, in town for a few days.”

When the final curtain came down, Maltese rose and exited his private box. His hands were red and stinging from applauding so vigorously. Marietta had taken several curtain calls and the audience, on its feet in a standing ovation, had whistled and called her name and tossed fresh-cut flowers onto the stage.

Now the great auditorium was swiftly emptying and Maltese, anticipating giving his beloved a congratulatory kiss, hurried backstage. The unsmiling, scar-faced Lightnin’ was a couple of steps behind.

Inside the flower-filled dressing chamber, Madam Sophia, proud of her charge’s performance, was embracing and complimenting the beaming Marietta. The two women had grown close in the months they had spent together. Marietta had few female friends, save the motherly Madam Sophia. She confided in Madam Sophia, told her things about herself that no one else knew. Once resentful and in complete disdain of Marietta, Madam Sophia had now become understanding and protective of the beautiful young woman.

Madam Sophia was aware of her pupil’s limited singing abilities. But she knew how desperately Marietta wanted to be famous, so she was determined to mold her eager pupil into a star despite her less than perfect singing voice.

Marietta wasn’t the first opera singer she’d coached whose voice was not exceptional. And, Marietta had everything else. With her youth and beauty and acting talents, she was surely destined for some degree of stardom.

“Did you count the curtain calls?” Marietta asked breathlessly, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes shining.

“Seven,” replied Madam Sophia, giving the taller, younger woman one last affectionate pat on the back. “Now turn around, dear, and I’ll help get you out of the costume.”

Sighing happily, Marietta dutifully turned. Madam Sophia’s plump fingers went to the tiny hooks going down the back of Marietta’s gown. As she worked, Madam Sophia said, “Such a grand opening night! Every seat filled and—” An urgent knock on the dressing room stopped her in midsentence. Madam Sophia clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Maltese, I presume. Shall I tell him you’re not dressed?”

“No,” said Marietta. “You can let him in. I’ll finish behind the dressing screen.”

Madam Sophia grabbed her charge’s arm, whirled her back around. “With him in the room?”

Marietta laughed off Madam Sophia’s chagrin. “That’s what dressing screens are for, Sophia. Is my dress completely unhooked?”

“It is,” said the coach, hands going to her wide hips.

Marietta nodded. “Then open the door for Maltese.”

“If you undress behind the screen, he’ll see the tops of your bosom,” scolded the disapproving Madam Sophia.

“Nonsense,” said Marietta. “He’ll see nothing. Now, please, answer his knock and then you may go.” Madam Sophia made a face.

Marietta laughed at her friend’s needless concern and assured the older woman, “Nothing will happen, believe me. I see to it that Maltese is always a gentleman with me.” She danced around behind the screen. “You know I’m telling you the truth.”

Madam Sophia lifted a skeptical eyebrow, crossed to the door and admitted the eager admirer. To Maltese she said, “Marietta has early rehearsals tomorrow.”

Eyes only for Marietta, Maltese said, “I won’t keep her up too late.”

Madam Sophia bustled out in such a hurry, she bumped into Lightnin’, who stood just outside the door. They glared at each other.

Maltese closed the dressing-room door and leaned back against it. “You were a sensation tonight, my dear,” he said.

“You’re so sweet,” she replied with a flirtatious smile. “Give me a minute to get out of my costume and I’ll be ready to go to dinner. Will you blow out the lamp?” Marietta asked and ducked behind the dressing screen.

“Of course, sugar,” Maltese said as he crossed to the mirrored dressing table, lifted the lamp’s glass globe and blew out the flame.

The lamp extinguished, now only a single white candle burned in a holder near the open back window. The small room was bathed in the candle’s mellow glow. Shadows danced on the walls. It was a seductive atmosphere.

Marietta was soon to make it even more seductive.

His voice cracking a little, Maltese turned about and said, “So…you haven’t changed yet?”

“No, Sophia and I were so busy congratulating ourselves I didn’t get around to it. But don’t worry, I won’t be a moment,” she said and favored him with another dazzling smile.

Marietta was a tall woman. Her head and shoulders rose above the covering screen. She lowered the sleeve of her turquoise gown down one shoulder and asked, “You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

Maltese swallowed hard. “No, sugar. You take as long as you need.” His eyes flashing with expectation, he reached for a chair, turned it around so that it faced the screen and quickly sat down.

Marietta knew exactly what she was doing. She would, on this festive evening, provide her middle-aged benefactor with a few memorable thrills. And she would do so without actually showing him anything or compromising herself.

She knew how it would excite him to know that she was stripping behind the screen. So Marietta stepped out of the turquoise costume and draped it over the screen.

She paused, rested her arms atop the screen and said, “I’m just dewy with perspiration from my strenuous performance.”

“Are you, sugar?” Maltese managed to say, his wide-eyed gaze resting on her pale shoulders. “Did you want to go up to your quarters and take a bath before dinner?”

Marietta pretended to be thinking it over. “No, tell you what, Sophia was so thoughtful, she placed a basin of water here behind the screen. I’ll just strip off everything and take a little sponge bath. If that’s all right with you?”

Maltese was now practically speechless with excitement. He nodded his silver head vigorously and gestured with trembling hands.

“Does that mean yes?” she asked in a honeyed voice.

“Y-yes,” he finally croaked. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Good. I declare, I’m just so hot and sticky.”

Marietta sensuously wiggled free of her lacy petticoats and tossed them atop the discarded costume.

“These tiny little hooks on my camisole are hard to manage,” she informed him, her face screwed up in concentration as she worked at undoing the minuscule fasteners. She laughed then, and added, “If I can’t get these little devils open, I may have to enlist your help.”

Maltese’s breathing grew labored and shallow at the exciting prospect. He watched with growing anticipation.

“Ah, there!” she said after a moment. “Finally got the last one.”

“That’s nice,” he said, a cloud of disappointment crossing his perspiring face. But the disappointment evaporated as the lace straps of the camisole slipped down her shoulders. The frothy undergarment was soon draped across the screen’s top and Maltese felt his heart hammer in his chest. His beloved—standing not six feet from him—was now bare to the waist.

He began to pant when Marietta lifted her arms, swept her long red-gold hair atop her head and pinned it there. The movement caused her shoulders to lift, the swell of her full, bare breasts to rise dangerously close to the top border of the screen.

Maltese anxiously licked his dry lips. He gripped his trousered knees with dampened hands; hands that itched to touch the beautiful woman who so tempted him. He could almost feel the warm heaviness of her white breasts in his palms.

Marietta, knowing what was going through his mind, chattered gaily as if nothing unusual were taking place, continuing to thrill her suitor without really giving him anything. When she slithered out of her lace-trimmed pantalets and tossed them over the screen, she sighed as if with great relief.

Maltese, red-faced now, pulse pounding in his ears, squirmed on his chair as she noisily kicked off her shoes, then peeled her silk stockings down and tossed them over the screen.

“Ah, there,” she sighed, “everything’s off and I’m as bare as a newborn babe. It feels sooo good. Sometimes I wonder why we must wear such hot, heavy underclothing.” She laughed musically then and added, “Sometimes I wonder why we must wear any clothes at all, don’t you, Maltese?”

“Y-yes, oh, yes,” he groaned as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

Just then a strong night breeze stirred the sheer window curtains. The candle flame danced wildly. The quick surge of light outlined—for a fleeting instant—Marietta’s bare silhouette against the dressing screen. Maltese quickly put a hand to his mouth to stifle his rising moan of joy. Such undraped perfection! Such purity! And it was his, all his.

Light-headed, dizzy, Maltese felt his brain pounding out the message, “My darling Marietta is naked. Totally, gloriously naked. She is bare. Not wearing a stitch. And there’s only a silk screen between us.”

Marietta began to hum as she dipped a sponge into the basin of water and pressed it to her throat, then let it slide slowly down her chest until it disappeared behind the screen. Maltese had never known such sweet agony. He watched, entranced, as his naughty Marietta sponged off her entire body. He could see nothing, but he imagined that he could. He wished that she would announce which part of her lovely body she was presently washing. But, of course, she wouldn’t. She was too much of a lady.

Maltese held his breath, hoping against hope that the candle would flare again. His chest tightened as he pondered whether or not she had reached the nether region between her long slender legs. God, he wished that she would tell him.

Marietta revealed nothing, just continued to hum.

Still, being afforded the opportunity to share this intimate bathing exercise with her was incredibly pleasurable and highly arousing. He could, if asked, truthfully brag that he had watched Marietta take a bath. But that would be raffish behavior.

Nevertheless, Maltese had high hopes that one day Marietta would be naked in a candlelit room with him and there would be no screen between them. He would be the one helping press the dampened sponge to her heated body.

This pleasant fantasy continued as Marietta finished her bath and got dressed. When she stepped out from behind the screen, she was fully clothed and fully aware that she had given her aging caller all the excitement he could handle for one evening. Nothing more would be required of her. A sumptuous dinner at the Castle Top and then a good-night peck on the cheek.

Maltese would leave her a happy man.