So far, she had limited herself to one boy other than those members of her immediate family. Suppose, just suppose, she found an experienced man, a practiced, professional gigolo. That was an idea. Such a man might be able to produce the desired feeling inside her tormented body. It was certainly worth a try.
That evening, after the supper dishes were washed and put away, and her school homework was all done, Bernadette went to her room, put on a short, sexy, pink mini-dress, daubed on some bright-red lipstick, then quietly left the house and took the bus to the heart of town. There were more than a half-dozen bars there, but these she avoided. No high-class gigolo would go into a bar. They took women who paid them out to high-class restaurants and nightclubs. But the reason many women had to pay for companionship was, they were old to the point of decay. Their bodies felt nothing any more, and more often than not, they kept the gigolos for show.
There was a classy restaurant in the next town, so Bernadette took a bus there. It was posh enough, all right, and it had a little bar, as well.
With the lipstick on, she looked over twenty-one, and when she walked into the bar, no one thought to question her for proof of age.
Walking directly up to the bar, she perched her pretty little butt on a high stool and ordered a sloe gin fizz. This she nursed for nearly an hour, refusing a dozen separate invitations from men who were there for the express purpose of picking up a fuck-partner. In spite of her desire to get laid, she didn't want to do it haphazardly. The man had to be an experienced stud. He had to know all the tricks, be able to instill overwhelming arousal in her and make her feel all the things she'd felt with her father and two brothers.
It was nearly ten-thirty when she saw the kind of man she wanted. He was at least six feet tall, with modish dark-brown hair and a debonair manner about him, but he seemed unhappy. His eyes, which should have been glittering, were dull and listless. He was bored. His straight nose wrinkled with distaste as he looked around the bar. A minute later, Bernadette saw why. The woman he was with, who had just come from powdering her nose, was in her late fifties or early sixties. Her face was wrinkled, and she used heavy pancake to cover it. Bernadette thought she had applied lipstick heavily to her own mouth, but the old woman had her beat by at least two layers of Max Factor's best. The diamonds around her neck let everyone know she was more than a little wealthy, and the way she fawned all over the younger man made it plain he wasn't a nephew.
'Come, Robert,' she told him. 'Our table is waiting.'
'You go ahead,' the man called Robert told her. 'I'll follow you in a moment. I just want to bring a drink to the table.'
'Let the waiter bring it. That's why they pay him.'
'He'll take too long. You go ahead. I'll be right there.'
'Very well,' she answered, and turning, swept into the restaurant.
The man walked right up to her and said, 'Are you a play-for-pay girl?'
'No,' she replied, somewhat astonished.
'One of those poor little rich girls out on the town by herself, huh? You want some action?'
'You already have a date,' Bernadette pointed out.
'Pearl? She won't last until eleven-thirty. By then I'll have her safely tucked in bed and I'll be out of her way. Like to do the town a little?'
Bernadette felt her heart thumping. The man was obviously mistaking her for a bored young socialite and was making a pitch.
'I'm not a play-for-pay girl,' she told him, 'but neither am I a pay-for-play girl.'
'For you,' he smiled, snapping his fingers at the bartender, 'it's all for nothing. Christ! I've been dying to meet someone young for a long time now. I can't stand these old bags.'
'We all grow old sooner or later,' Bernadette observed.
'True,' he nodded after ordering his drink. 'But some of us grow old gracefully and have the good sense to avoid trying to recapture our youth through others.'
'Pity them, don't sneer at them,' Bernadette told him.
'Save your pity for those who can't afford youthful lovers,' he told her. 'Will you be here when I get back?'
'Depends on when you get back,' Bernadette answered.
'You're really a beauty. But then you know that, don't you?'
Bernadette didn't bother to reply. She couldn't think of anything to say, and rather than say something foolish, she thought it best she kept her mouth shut.
'I'll try to make it back before midnight,' he told her. 'You can wait if you want to. It's up to you.'
He took his drink, smiled at her, and walked off. Everything about him was so cocky and overbearing.
On the bar, near where he had been standing, she saw a card he'd left. All it had on it was his name, Bob Mannetto. She took the card and tucked it into her purse.
The evening passed very slowly after that. She should have been in bed. She had school the next day. But this was too great an opportunity to pass up. She'd wait and give him his chance.
Eight other men came up to her and propositioned her, but none of them had Mannetto's suaveness. She politely refused all of them.
It was five minutes to twelve when he reappeared.
'I'm glad you waited,' he said, smiling. 'I would have gotten here faster, but Pearl got piss-eyed drunk and I had a job putting her to bed.'
'Now what?' she asked.
'Have you any special place you'd like to go?'
'I don't have very much time. Suppose you show me your apartment.'
If Mannetto was surprised by her directness, he kept his surprise well hidden. He merely nodded, saying, 'Don't you want one more drink before we go?'
'No,' she told him. 'I've had enough.'
He led her out and to his Jaguar sports car. Bernadette felt another thrill shudder its way through her. The man really knew how to travel in style.
Forty minutes later, he pulled into the basement garage of an apartment building. He helped her out of the car, and then they took the elevator to the penthouse, where he led her into a very posh apartment. She noticed it was a duplex with a flight of spiral stairs leading from the living roam up to the bedrooms. Everything was so new and exciting to her.
He wasted no time with his seduction. Even as they entered the apartment, as he shut the door, he kissed the back of her neck. Her response was sudden and almost violent. She turned and gripped his head with both hands, pulling his mouth against hers, kissing it hard, and forcing his lips against his teeth to the point where they cut. Her response was so swift Mannetto was almost overwhelmed by the impact of her lips against his. He held her tightly to him, pressing his fingers into her back through her dress, and then his hands were sliding down, one of them moving under her dress, tugging at the band of her panties.
This made Bernadette even more wanton, and as they continued kissing, her own hands reached between them and began tugging his pants open. They tried holding the kiss, but couldn't shuck their clothing quickly enough.
When she couldn't pull off her shoes, Bernadette broke off the kiss, sat on the floor, and literally tugged them off with both hands. Then she wriggled out of her pantyhose and panties, both at the same time. Meanwhile everything seemed to tear right off Mannetto as he threw his clothing carelessly off to the side.
As she sat there on the floor, taking off her dress and bra, she stared up at his solid body. It was even better than Drew Starker's, and he had a real stud's cock. It was long, thick, and waving back and forth in front of her face. She could already feel a certain amount of physical passion building, but would it grow into something more?
He sat on the floor next to her and she pressed her firm body against his, murmuring, 'You have one big tool there.'
'Yeah,' was all he said as his stroking fingers played up and down her body. His fingers pressed into the musky, furry slash between her aching thighs, and the practiced way his finger seemed to slip into her cunt made her feel confident he would bring her to the peak she had anticipated.
His eyes were all over her, glancing up and down as his fingers danced all over her slightly rounded belly. The black, tight curls of her beaver were so shiny they had a bluish tint to them. The rich pink gash just barely showing
