He closed it. Myron walked over and pulled the dead bolt.
The redhead put her hands on her hips. “Happy now?”
“Nearly ecstatic.”
“Now get out.”
“Listen,” Myron said with his melt-’em, warm smile, “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to buy some photographs. My name is Bernie Worley. I work for a new porno magazine.”
She made a face. “Do I really look that stupid? Bernie Worley, here to buy some photographs. Give me a fuckin’ break.”
There was a sudden noise. People. Lots of them. A commotion, even by this place’s standard. In the corridor. Right where he had left Esperanza. Alone.
Myron turned and ran, feeling his heart leap to his throat. If something had happened to her-
He threw open the door. Dozens of people surrounded Esperanza, most kneeling. She stood in the middle, smiling and-he couldn’t believe it-signing autographs.
“It’s Pocahontas!” someone shouted.
“Make mine out ‘With love to Manuel.’”
“You’re still my favorite!”
“I remember when you beat Queen Carimba. What a fight!”
“That Highway Hannah. Such a dirty fighter. When she threw salt in your eyes, I could have killed her.”
Esperanza caught Myron’s eye, shrugged, went back to signing old matchbooks and scraps of paper. The redhead followed him out the door. When she saw Esperanza, her entire being lit up. “Poca?”
Esperanza looked back up. “Lucy?”
They hugged. They stepped back into the studio, Myron following.
“Where you been, girl?” Lucy asked.
“Here, there.”
The two women kissed. On the lips. A little too long. Esperanza turned around. “Myron?”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes are bulging.”
“They are?”
“I don’t tell you everything.”
“Apparently not,” he said. “But at least I know why my startling good looks didn’t faze your friend.”
Both women found that laughable. “Lucy, this is Myron Bolitar.”
Lucy looked him up and down. “He your boyfriend?”
“No. Just a good friend. And my boss.”
“He looks like a guy I know, worked a kinky show at a club down the street. He had this act where he peed on different women.”
“It wasn’t me,” Myron assured her. “I have enough trouble peeing in a public urinal.”
Lucy turned her attention to Esperanza. “You look good, Poca.”
“Thanks.”
“Out of the wrestling game, huh?”
“Completely.”
“But you’re still working out?”
“As often as I can.”
“Nautilus?”
“Um-hmm.”
“It shows,” Lucy said with a wicked smile. “You really look hot.”
Myron cleared his throat. “Hey, how about those Knicks?”
The women ignored him. “You still taking pictures of the wrestlers?” Esperanza asked.
“Not much anymore I’m mostly into this shit.”
Esperanza looked back at Myron. “Lucy-that isn’t her real name, we just call her that because of her hair-she used to do the promo photos of all the wrestlers.”
“So I gathered,” Myron said. “Do you think she can help us out?”
“What do you want to know?” Lucy asked.
Myron handed her the copy of
Lucy studied the photograph for a second. “He a cop?” she asked Esperanza.
“A sports agent.”
“Oh.” She did not ask for further elaboration. “Because this could get us in trouble.”
“How so?” Myron asked.
“The photograph. The girl is topless.”
“So?”
“So it’s illegal. Topless girls aren’t allowed in 900 ads. We’re going to get screwed if the government sees this.”
“We?” Myron repeated. Again the clever interrogation techniques.
“I’m one of the owners of these dial-a-porn companies. A lot of the lines work out of this building.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Myron said. “What do you mean, topless girls are illegal? Almost every girl in that magazine is naked.”
“Not in the ads for 900 lines,” Lucy corrected. “Couple years back a law was passed. Nine hundred lines had to go clean. Look here.” She turned a page and pointed at another ad. “The girl might look suggestive, but she can’t be naked. And look at the name of the lines. Stuff like ‘Secret Confessions’ or ‘Talk to Girls.’ Now look at the ones for the 800 lines. Hard core. ‘Cum Between My Tits,’ stuff like that.”
Myron remembered his conversation with Tawny on the 900 line. He had been struck by the fact that she said nothing dirty. “So you can only have phone sex on the other lines?”
“Right. You see, you need real permission for those. That’s how the government sees it. Any asshole can call a 900 line. The charges are automatic. They start almost immediately after your call is answered. But not with an 800 line or one of the other numbers. You have to use either your credit card or a callback. That’s the way you get billed.”
“So all that talk about 900 lines being dirty-”
“Is bullshit,” Lucy finished. “They’re cons. We can’t say one dirty thing on those lines. We use them as lures mostly, because they’re so easy to use. A guy just has to dial. No credit card. No callbacks. Most of the time we talk about skinny-dipping or massages-suggestive but not sexual. Get him excited, you know what I mean?”
“I think so, yes.”
“These guys call horny anyway. I mean, most are so hard up, they’ll stick it in a knothole to get relief. What we try to do is get him to say the first dirty word, which usually isn’t too difficult. Once he does, we say, ‘Oh, baby, I can’t talk dirty on this line, but you should call me back at X number with a credit card.’ The guys calls it and gets charged all over again.”
“Aren’t they afraid of how it’ll look on their credit card bill?” Myron asked.
Lucy shook her head. She was still undulating. It was a combination of irritating and erotic. “The company names are usually pretty discreet,” she explained. “We bill under names like Norwood Incorporate or Telemark-not Hot Lesbos or Sucking Starlet. You want to see it?”
“See what?”
“The operation upstairs. Where we answer some of the calls. Lots of people work out of their homes, but I got a crew of six or seven working the lines now.”
Myron shrugged “Yeah, sure.”
Lucy took them up one level. Some sort of sickening stench engulfed the stairwell. When they reached the landing, Lucy opened a door. They stepped through and quickly closed it behind them.
“This is Fantasies Forever Lines,” Lucy said. “Not to mention Dick-a-Lick, Hootersline, Telefun, and a dozen others.”
Myron could not believe what he was seeing. His mouth dropped open. He had expected ugly women or fat women or old women. But he had not expected this.
