"Webb! They called me to say you were on your way up to the house. If you'd thought to call me yourself .. ."
"Hi, Harris. Nice party." He met the cold gray eyes and shrugged. "Sorry I didn't give you any notice, but what the hell, I was in the area and decided I might as well come up a few days early. Got tired of having Dave beat me at tennis. Do you mind?"
"Mind? Of course I don't mind. I would have made arrangements to have you flown in here, as I suggested originally, had I known."
"Well, I kind of like driving myself. More freedom of movement, if I feel like riding into town some night. And what's with all the security?"
Harris began stiffly, "I'm sure the man at the gate explained to you," but another voice, sounding rather slurred, cut across his.
"So you're here? And maybe you don't remember me, it's been a long time, sl?
But I remember you, and what a dirty bastard you are. You ..." Claudia del Antonini was weaving very slightly, her accent more pronounced than usual.
Better Claudia, who was at least predictable, than exchanging insignificant nothings with Harris Phelps. And he knew how to handle Claudia when she was in this mood; he shut her up with a long, deliberately brutal kiss. She tried to fight him at first, but Webb put his hands on her tight, squirming ass, squeezing hard, until she relaxed against him with a moan of surrender, closing her eyes.
Webb cocked an eyebrow at Harris, who gave a shrug and what was meant to be a smile before he moved away.
Webb was making a mental catalogue of the faces he recognized. The IRS would have tabbed most of them as "self-employed." Quite a house party! Claudia, who wouldn't stop talking if she was given enough encouragement, would fill him in later.
And he'd have time, during the next few weeks, to find out what was going on here.
Webb gave his full attention to Claudia, kissing her ear when the soft wetness of her lips became too cloying. She whispered soft obscenities to him, keeping her arms fastened around his neck. Dave, the usually impassive bartender, wondered if they were going to set some kind of record. Some kiss! He came to attention again when Anne came up to him with her latest escort.
She smiled at him, deliberately keeping her eyes averted from the spectacle Webb was making of himself with Claudia. "The usual, please, Dave."
"And I-I think I will switch to something very long and cooling. A frozen daiquiri, perhaps?"
Espinoza was watching Anne, noticing many things about her; she seemed too taut, for all her insouciant attitude. He had made it a point to charm her, and it hadn't been too hard. She was an exceptionally attractive girl-woman, but there was too much surface to her. He thought he could understand why Harris Phelps, whose tastes were almost as jaded as his own, might be intrigued by her. What was underneath the veneer? He promised himself to find out, sure of his own attractiveness. He treated every woman he met as a separate entity, patiently delving until he found out which button to press. He enjoyed women who presented a challenge, and this one just might be...
"Salud!" Smiling, he touched his glass to hers, noticing how hard she tried to ignore the Italian woman and-his attention sharpened without being noticeable-Webb Carnahan, at last.
So the play begins, he thought, and laughed inside. Because he was, after all, a gambler at heart; and not only that, he enjoyed intrigue and the game of playing one person against another. Better keep Anna-Maria under wraps until iust the right moment, he cautioned himself, and all the time he was flirting with Anne Mallory, who was lovely enough but without fire, although he knew as well as any man that banked coals burned much hotter. Maybe ... ?
"Shall we have another drink, or would you like to dance again?"
"Can we do both?"
The bastard, the bastard, she was thinking furiously, not stopping to wonder why she was so furious. He's so busy whispering in that creature's ear he hasn't even noticed me, and
we're standing right next to him! She would have liked to throw her drink right at him, drenching them both.
All the same, she jumped when Espinoza, seeming to read
her mind, said drolly, "I agree with you-it's too much, isn't it? Shall we break it up?"
Too late for her to protest. Sal Espinoza, showing he could act after all, made a deliberately clumsy movement that sent his glass crashing onto the floor within inches of Claudia's not-too-slender ankle.
He swore vehemently in Spanish before he apologized. "I'm so sorry! A thousand pardons .. ."
And Anne, filling in, enjoying it, said sweetly, "Oh, but it was my fault. I jogged your elbow. Why-hello, Webb! When did you turn up?"
Claudia, who had given an unladylike yelp before she realized what had happened, turned a smoldering look on Anne.
Webb merely quirked an eyebrow. "Accidents will happen, I guess. And hello yourself, love. I just got here. Can I stay?"
There was something in his tawny-gold eyes that she hadn't seen there before when he looked at her. Something ugly and indefinable and-almost measuring.
Thank God for Sal, who was being very South American polite, introducing himself, apologizing again to Claudia, who had begun to melt under his charm.
Somehow-Anne couldn't quite remember how-they seemed to have formed a foursome, leaning companionably across the bar while Dave mixed them refills. And Webb and Sal Espinoza were talking cars and racing while she and Claudia were left to stare at each other, lips curved in insincere smiles.
The effects of the Dexamyl were wearing off, and the martinis were giving her a headache. Why in hell had Webb decided to turn up early, and without notice?
Where was Harris?
Claudia, her lips redder than usual and kiss-swollen, was being sweetly bitchy, and Anne was beginning to reply in kind when she noticed that both men had broken off their conversation to watch them, exchanging looks that seemed to say, aggravatingly, "Women!"
Even in her half-drunken state, Claudia del Antonini was enough woman to interpret that look. A moment before she had been needling Anne with a patronizing comment that certain types of skin just couldn't take the sun without becoming red and ugly, and now she lifted her shoulders in an elaborate shrug.
"Sometimes men are so boring, don't you agree? All this talk of machines, machines
. . . who cares? Me, I think I would like to dance a little while before I go to bed." She gave Webb a significant, darkly challenging look as she said the last, but then she turned her most provocative smile on Espinoza. "I think you owe me a dance, after that drink you spilled all over the hem of my new dress. You will wait for me, caro,"
This, possessively, to Webb, who played her game by kissing her lightly again.
"I'll wait for you, cara" He added something in Italian that made her smile and flash Anne a triumphant look over her shoulder as she bore an apologetic-looking Sal Espinoza off as if he had been a prize of war. Two up for Claudia-baby! Sure enough of herself to leave Webb alone with Anne, who didn't want to be alone with him at all
...
His eyes looked her over, and she couldn't read anything behind them. He was like a stranger, and yet he wasn't. Her senses told her so.
Because her hand had started to shake she drained her glass and set it down too abruptly. He smiled at her, but his eyes weren't involved. "Want to dance, Annie?"
"No!" she said sharply, tired of playing games.
He shrugged agreeably. "All right."
Sizing her up. Anne Mallory. Reardon's little girl. Deliberately blanked-out space in his mind. Use her if he had to.
Just like Reardon used people. Instrument of his ultimate revenge? But it was hard to be objective about Anne, remembering what he did. Too much, maybe? But he could get over that, thinking about risks and rewards.
"Well, I'd better circulate, I suppose. Do make yourself at home, Webb."
Her voice sounded as brittle and as cold as the tinkle of ice cubes as the bartender mixed her a fresh drink-no eyes and no ears.
And suddenly, contrarily, Webb wanted to force some reaction from her. He put his hand on her arm, stopping her in mid-motion, sensing her desire to escape. "You're a lousy hostess, Annie. Aren't you supposed to make the latest arrival feel at home?"
He heard her sharply drawn-in breath, and it gave him a sadistic pleasure. "I thought maybe you'd show me to my room. Make me feel welcome. Just like old times."
While he was saying it, each word a calculated cruelty, he was watching the rise and fall of her partly exposed breasts under the thin blouse. And he had already noticed the light golden tan.
H he hadn't held her wrist she would have slapped him, forgetting her control that much. Tears of rage and humiliation stung her eyelids and she forced them back.
"What a bastard you are! And will you have your little tape recorder turned on so you and Carol will have another one to add to your collection?"
This time she had drawn blood, even though the look that came into his face made her wince instinctively. He said softly, between his teeth, "And what in hell did you mean by that crack?"
She forgot Dave, behind the bar, forgot the room filled with people. There were only her and Webb, battling it out, and she was fighting for her own survival.
"You ought to know-very well. Was it supposed to be a secret, the little contest you two have going? A form of tallying scalps, I suppose. I think the first time we met it was because of a bet between you ..." Her voice almost cracked, but she held it steady, looking contemptuously into his suddenly opaque eyes.
"Not the first time we met, baby. The first time we fucked." His voice was conversational, but he might as well have struck her a blow. "And I still want to know what you were talking about just now."
"Forget it, Webb. Just forget it, will you? And let me go-you're making a spectacle of me, and of yourself. I'm not Claudia, I'm not so easily taken in by a-a Judas kiss! So play your sick little games with her, with anyone else, because I .. ."
"I hope I am not intruding? Please excuse me." The look on Karim's face belied the overly polite tone of his voice. "But, Anne, my uncle wishes to bid you good-bye. He's leaving tomorrow, you know."
She had never thought she would be as glad to see Karim as she was now, with the rage she sensed in Webb striking at her like a live thing as he let go of her, his face smoothing out into his actor's mask.
"Sorry-have I been monopolizing our charming hostess? See you later, Annie." His words carried both a promise and a threat.
ANNE HAD WATCHED the patterns changing; small groups of people expanding into larger ones or contracting. And she had wanted nothing more than to go upstairs to bed, but she felt herself trapped.
She had watched Webb disappear with Claudia soon after she said her polite good-byes to Karim's uncle. And had been rescued from Karim by Yves, who had had too much wine to drink. From Yves, by Sal Espinoza again. She felt like a balloon being tossed from one hand to another. Even her head felt expanded and light-especially after the hash pipe had been passed around a few times, filling the small screening room with its sicklysweet odor.
"You're not used to it? It's good stuff-pure. The best. But do not overdo it the first time. Here, let me show you." Sal Espinoza was nothing like the playboy he was painted to be, Anne thought fuzzily. He was a nice man, very thoughtful; and she was being neglected by Harris, who was fussing around with cans of film while he and Yves Pleydel engaged in a low-voiced discussion.
They were here to watch the first rushes. Sarah Vesper and Anne were the only two women present. The men were all Harris's closest associates, except for the emir, who had retired early, and Karim.
Pleydel said, "I think we have it now," and the lights dimmed. Anne was faced with her own larger-than-life image on the screen. She watched herself with a sense of detachment, as if she were watching a stranger.
"You are very good. I hope that when it is my turn, I will be able to give a credible performance." Espinoza's shoulder brushed against Anne's as he leaned forward to take two glasses of wine from a tray.
"I really don't think I'd better. This is much later than I'm used to staying up."
"But the show is only just beginning. Watch .. ."
She had wondered why everyone stayed, watching the screen expectantly. And then she didn't have to wonder any longer. The screen filled with color and light. No sound. But sound wasn't necessary, with everything being said by bodies. People making love. All colors and combinations.
Anne hardly noticed that Harris had come to sit beside her, taking her hand as he leaned over to tell Espinoza, "This is for your benefit, Sal. And Anne's. She hasn't seen my private collection before."
Anne felt him take her hand, but for a time she was incapable of either motion or coherent thought.
Espinoza held the small silver-engraved pipe to her lips, chuckling softly. "Ah! I always wondered about Madame la Comtesse. So that's it!"
She felt frozen in her chair, although the heat had started to spread from her face to the rest of her body as the toke made what she was watching seem suddenly more vivid. She had begun to realize that this was not mere acted pornography but the real thing, involving real, recognizable people.
Anne could not help gasping when she suddenly recognized Venetia Tressider. One of those talked-about orgies that Venetia so enjoyed. Venetia naked, with her legs spread open. A girl going down on her before three men joined in.
"You're not shocked, are you, love?" Harris said from the darkness. His fingers moved caressingly up her arm, playing with her breast.
"What, you have not watched this kind of peepshow before? I am afraid you must think us all very decadent. But it is-interesting, no?"
Anne didn't know what she might have said. She had meant to say something, but the words got lost in her throat.
Venetia again. Venetia with-Webb, this time. Her country house-Anne recognized the indoor swimming pool, all the mirrors. Oh God, she didn't want to watch. Webb's body, dark gold in the firelight. Watching him fucking Venetia, she could almost feel him in her. Feel of his flesh under her clutching fingers. Musky whisper of his voice between kisses.