Chris was the first to break. She rested her head in her hands and sobbed three times before regaining her composure. Today had been an emotional nightmare, saying nothing about financial. An apologetic feminine hand stroked her arm as she squeezed out the last tear.
'Oh damn,' sighed Roger, gleaming over his success. Shit! He had them now. Get a woman in tears and she loses all rationale. Now was the time to snap it to them; they'd be putty in his hands, their will broken, ready to be molded to his wishes. '… I didn't mean to make you cry, but this is a serious matter. Christ, I can't count the number of young girls who've lived in this building – just out of school, away from home for the first time, thinking they'll come out to old SF and teach the world tricks.' He shook his head negatively. 'Life ain't that way, girls. It ain't that simple.'
'But… but we've tried looking for work. Honest we have!' Chris' ivory white forehead was wrinkled with a solemn plea for mercy. 'We've spent all the money we had on bus fare and God, I even sacrificed my last dollar for a pair of stockings to go to a crummy interview – and I didn't even want the job!' She looked pleadingly into Sandy's tear-blurred eyes. Sandy nodded in acquiescence.
'Really,' she moaned in her flirtatiously childish manner, the expression on her face one of a hungry orphan begging for a bowl of rice. 'It's not that we haven't tried or don't have any brains. God, we both graduated from college and… and I speak Spanish and Chris speaks French.' She shrugged her shoulders and spread her hands entreatingly.
'Spanish, you say?' Ah, ha, mused Roger silently, stroking his full mustache with glee. This was the opener. 'French?'
The girls nodded simultaneously.
'Hmmm… I might be able to help you… that is, if you really want a job.' He continued pacing, one hand thrust into his polyester suit pants, the other still working on his mustache, while his brown eyes clicked off the dollar signs. The surreptitious landlord glanced over at the rentees to see them sitting up straight, ready to take orders. 'Naw. You girls went to college huh? What were your majors?' His eyes sparkled as they probed every inch of feminine flesh… two hundred a nights worth.
'I majored in art with a double major in French, and Sandy majored in modern dance and speaks Spanish… she's part Spanish, you know,' the spokesman assured.
'You girls ever worked in crowds of people? I mean have you ever been hostesses or tour guides?'
'No,' answered Sandy, somewhat disconcertedly.
'But we can try!' Chris blurted.
'I… I don't know…' Roger made a turn at the mantle and rested his elbow on the chipped paint and stroked his neck with that hand. 'You'd have to spend time around men… many of them foreigners.' He smacked his lips and shook his head. 'Maybe you'd be better off trying the lunch counters down town…'
'No, wait a minute! Tell us more about this job,' implored Chris, sitting on the edge of the sofa now, ablaze with interest, desperate for a break. The prospect of going back to Detroit was about as appealing as making love to an elephant.
'Okay,' Roger confronted them in his military stance, arms behind his back, legs spread. 'I have some friends who own a tour guide business downtown… old buddies of mine from the army. They make contact with the bus guide tours and instead of sending everybody out in buses they take them out sometimes singly, sometime in pairs. What they need is somebody to chaperone the guys, somebody who can speak Spanish or French… adds a little class, you know.'
Sandy's eyes sparkled. It was a dream come true, but Chris looked puzzled, her face still mirroring her concern over the money and the way her landlord kept stealing peeks down the gaping front of her bathrobe. She yanked it shut tight.
'So what do we have to do?'
'Simple. You go out to dinner with the guys… there will be wives along sometimes,' he admitted with a sly smirk. 'You impress the guy by ordering in another language… that's always worth a tip, especially from businessmen who are out to impress some client… then you hop a cable car and take 'em to the wharf maybe… out for a couple of drinks, tell 'em about the landmarks of the city – how Golden Gate Park used to be a sand pit, and everything east of Market Street is landfill… you know. Little bits like that. Mostly you just play nice to 'em and they treat you well.'
'I don't know,' said Chris, biting on her lower lip nervously. 'Sounds kinda fishy to me… almost like… like, well, you know.' She turned to read the expression on her roommate's face. 'What do you think, Sandy?'
Marvel-eyed, Sandy shot a beaming grin at the landlord. 'I think it's great! When do we start and how much money will we make? I'll have to get my clothes together for this!'
Roger looked a little perplexed, but at the same time he was relieved. He knew if he could persuade Chris, he'd have it sacked, but she was the cautious one, he noted. 'What about you, Chris. How do you feel about it? I know it's not what you expected to do with a college diploma, but it's the best I can offer. Besides, the foreign tourists in San Francisco have a lot of class.' He studied her unmoved expression. 'Well, I know you'd rather sit in an office for eight hours a day, but…'
'Let me think about it,' broke in the blonde haired roommate. 'I want to think this over.'
Sandy wrinkled up her nose and tugged Chris' bathrobe sleeve, her eyes on Roger as she whispered into Chris' ear: 'Come on, it's no big thing. We'd at least be able to eat and get out to see the city.' Pulling her bathrobe tight around her, and letting the bath towel unwind with a vigorous shake of her head, Chris stalked off to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It seemed cheap somehow, going out with a man you'd never seen before. Why, it was the closest thing to prostitution she'd ever imagined herself coming in contact with. She closed her bedroom door behind her.
One room away, Chris could hear Sandy's throaty voice apologizing for her roommate's abrupt response. 'Don't pay any attention to her, she's just very upset today,' she heard Sandy explain.
Roger returned: 'Okay, you girls think it over and come down to my apartment tonight and tell me what you want to do. Remember, I still have two months rent to collect and this letter from the foodstamp office is nothing to scoff at. It's serious business… could cost you both a lot of money and time behind bars if you're not careful. I'm just trying to help you out, is all. I've got my responsibilities too.'
Sandy caught his arm before he reached out to open the door. 'Just one thing,' she said hesitantly. 'Does this mean we have to go to bed with the men?' Her eyes sparkled and the landlord read the message loud and clear.
Dropping his hand to the doorknob he rested it there and said, 'If you do, it'll earn you a bunch more, that's all I can tell you.'
When he left, closing the door behind him, Sandy leaned up against the hardwood door, her eyes smiling for her. No use giving away what you can charge for, she resolved and headed for Chris' bedroom for a long, practical talk with her best friend of four years.
CHAPTER FIVE
Roger's apartment was on the second floor in the back where his living room window overlooked a small rose garden in the middle of the concrete stone maze of apartment buildings and garages. It was the only apartment with such a view, blessed in its solitudinous location and free of traffic noise. Best of all, it had an exceptionally large living room, good for entertaining and business combined.
Tonight, though, he didn't need the rose garden. Tonight was that certain lucky moment every man dreams of but seldom finds. Christ, what a girl, what a hell of a woman!
'Mmmmm… that's nice, honey, nice and deep,' came the hoarse whisper through the darkness. Sandy's levis, blouse and underclothes were strewn haphazardly on the floor beside the couch, and her long trim legs were cocked back at a forty-five degree angle, flattened back hard against her chest, smashing the firmly swelling mounds of her young breasts beneath her own thighs.
Roger was half on his knees and half arched off the sofa, supported on his feet and palms, his long pulsating hard cock buried deep in the dark-haired girl's belly, stretching apart the warm hungry lips of her cunt as he flexed the head of his huge fleshy length far up in her womb.
