restaurant called The Butcher Shop, and Nichole had been the cocktail waitress with the racy reputation.
There were all sorts of rumors about Nichole and what she did when she wasn't working. Kim had seen her behaving in ways that gave credibility to the rumors and certainly wasn't any way a proper lady would behave. Yet, despite everything, she found herself liking Nichole and defending her to the other waitresses. Nichole seemed a warm, silly, sad human being to Kim. She sometimes felt the other girl acted the way she did because she had to have attention. This was strange, for she had a good personality and certainly was beautiful enough to stand out in any crowd. Nichole had simply not bothered to show up for the job one night, and Kim never saw her again… although she heard rumors that she was being 'kept' by some millionaire in Pebble Beach.
Now, over coffee, she smiled at the sensual looking dark-haired girl and asked, 'And what are you doing now, Nichole?'
'I'm in public relations up in the city.'
'San Francisco?'
'Yes, and I just love it. I'm down here on business and pleasure. You know, any excuse to get back down here.' She pointed to the red-head's wedding band. 'What does he do?'
Kim laughed, knowing what Nichole was referring to. 'He's an engineer, and he just left on a job.'
'Where?'
'South America,' Kim said, thrusting her lower lip out in mock-despair. 'Brazil. Way up the Amazon in some Godforsaken place.'
'How long will he be gone?'
'Six months.'
'Oh, poor Kim. What are you going to do?'
'Stick it out, keep myself busy.'
If the conversation was to be thought of from Kim's standpoint, it must be recorded that she thought that Nichole was terribly perceptive or that she was wearing her heart on her sleeve. In what seemed like no time at all, she found herself talking about Hank and their 'problem'. Nichole seemed to be so understanding. Soon, they were paying for their coffees and walking, talking quietly, feeling they were more private than in a crowded coffee shop. They walked to Devendorf Plaza, where they sat on a bench, and Kim found herself pouring her heart out.
Not all her heart and not all the truth. How many of us are capable of telling the whole truth? She did tell Nichole a great deal of what happened, and Nichole seemed eager to hear every word, licking her lips so that they were wetly glistening and her eyes seemed to be just a little unfocused.
'Wow,' she said, when Kim was all through. 'I wish I had been there when you hit him with the flashlight.'
Kim was a little taken back by her statement then dismissed it as being simply Nichole, as her way. She had always been flip and fancy-free, and sometimes said things just to shock.
They talked on, or rather Kim talked on with Nichole only prompting her, urging her to talk more. Finally, the young housewife stopped, embarrassed, as tears blinded her and she groped for words. Nichole pressed a handkerchief in her hand and walked her back to her car. It was agreed that Nichole would call her, and they'd get together before she want back up to the city.
The wildly sensual brunette stood waving as Kim drove off. Once out of sight, she walked purposely to a car, a Mercedes that was parked nearby and got in next to a gray-haired man dressed all in gray. She grinned at him and resisted an urge to throw her arms around his neck and give him a fervent kiss. You just didn't do things like that to Web Hardman. 'Well?' he asked, arching his eyebrows.
'You're a genius!'
'It went as I said it would?'
'Almost word for word. Web, I think you're right about her. About sex, I mean.'
'We'll see. Did you remember to start the tape recorder?'
Nichole grinned triumphantly, leaning close to him so that he could smell her perfume and see the deep cleavage between her large, firmly ripe breasts. Nothing would please her more than to have Web himself work her over. 'Here it is,' she said, opening her expensive leather purse and pulling out a small finely made portable tape recorder. 'What do I do next?'
'That will be determined by what I find on this tape.'
CHAPTER FIVE
How had it all happened? They had met for a drink. They had met for a drink in the Pine Inn. They had met at the 'Happy Hour' in the red and white Pine Inn bar that spoke of elegance, of quiet, casual wealth and good taste. They had met with the Pine Inn regulars who met every day at five and drank quietly and well.
And she had too much to drink! She had driven home tipsy, driving slowly, and felt immediately sleepy going to bed and wondering vaguely and only half-seriously, if anything had been put in her drink. She had become 'high' so quickly and babbled things she ordinarily wouldn't have. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to a long weekend with Nichole up in the city. 'What you need is a change. You're in a rut and you don't know it. I've got a wonderful apartment on Sutter Street. What you need is a weekend with me. Well go places and meet people and have a good old dirty time.'
Kim had fallen into bed, drowsy, sleepily amused that Nichole had decided to take over in her life, vaguely pleased that somebody cared enough to say so and take an interest in her welfare.
Waking the next morning and realizing that, in an hour, Nichole would be around to pick her up and that she was going to spend a weekend in lovely San Francisco, she shrugged. Why not? Perhaps the other girl was right. Maybe she did need a change! Kim dressed and packed quickly. 'Travel light,' Nichole had said, 'that's my motto: travel light and wear sexy underwear.'
She looked forward to the weekend despite Nichole's old habit of being just a bit too rough and sexual in her talk. Somehow, the brunette always brought the conversation around to men and sex. She really didn't mind, dismissing it as Nichole's way and need for attention. She didn't really think anything was meant by it.
Nichole was right on time, arriving in a new Mustang convertible. They drove up U.S. 1, Kim taking in the coastal scenery as they drove. Then, like a jewel, a thrill no matter how many times you've seen it, came the Apple, The Big Apple, San Francisco! The city, a combination of stately old homes and gracious living; the city, a curious blend of European comfort and old frontier make-do. The city of the Barbery Coast and China Town, North Beach and the Mission district, Nob Hill and Haight-Ashbury, The Panhandle and the financial district.
It retains some of its bawdy, lusty, goldrush past. It is the original home of the topless and bottomless, of the porny movies and live sex shows. It is a sin-drenched city and it is a graceful entity to good living – the De Young Museum, The Palace of The Legion of Honor, and the opera. It has its ballet and art exhibits. It is the home of the 1950's Beats – Beatniks and the poetry movement of North Beach. It is a melting pot for east and west, and has always been drug-oriented because of Chinatown and the opium trade and wars that flourished as far back as the nineties.
San Francisco is, as connoisseurs of female flesh are quick to point out, a city full of extremely beautiful girls. To this already happy horde were added two more: Nichole and Kim. They arrived in the afternoon. Nichole's apartment was all that she said it was – and more. It was spacious and Kim would have a bedroom of her own. The sensual looking brunette mixed drinks right away, then told Kim to wander around and make herself at home, while she made some phone calls.
Kim moved around the expensive apartment, admiring the furniture and paintings, only half-listening to Nichole. Suddenly, she was listening hard. 'That's right. Her name is Kim Stewart, and she's a real knockout. Yeah. Yeah. Relax, she's married. That's right, I said married. Be here about six.'
Nichole hung up and waved a depreciating hand at Kim's wondering stare. 'Relax! All I'm doing is lining up dates for us. Escorts. Listen, it's easier with an escort. Lots of places we couldn't go if it wasn't for escorts. Besides, they know you're married, and all they're doing is acting as an escort. God, Kim,' Nichole frowned, 'sometimes you're an old maid.'
The words stung. Kim tried not to show it. All she had done was direct a questioning frown at Nichole. Could
