Daddy's plaything(12)

"Sorry, Daddy," she said, closing her parted legs. "It's just that I felt sorry for them. They looked so – pitiful there."

"Well, let them find some cheap tramp to sink their meat in," he said. "You're Sherry Trent and don't forget it!"

"Yes, Daddy." Her father's awareness regarding the presence of other males often amazed Sherry. When it came to other males he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, an eerie intuition.

Connie, a cocktail girl from the lounge, came over in a few minutes and said, "Hi." Sherry had chatted with her briefly a few times during intermissions and they had struck up something of a friendship. Victor didn't object to her being friendly with females. In fact, he often encouraged her being nice to the "little people" wherever she worked, particularly if they were female or married men who didn't seem to pose any threat to her relationship with Daddy. It was good for her image, he said. Good public relations. In fact, she often caught her father feasting his eyes on the more sexy girls.

With long, straight black hair, large breasts, and enormous blue eyes, Connie was very sexy. Without invitation, she spread her towel on the sundeck next to Sherry and began chatting in her smooth, purring voice. She struck Sherry as something of a social-climber – the kind of girl who liked to hob-nob with celebrities and semi-celebrities and might be on the look-out for an affluent husband. She certainly had the manner and looks for it.

The three of them sat there baking lathe sun for perhaps twenty minutes when Gil Turner came over wearing a very flowery pair of swimming trunks. "Hi, gang," his deep voice boomed. "Mind if I join the sweat brigade?" he asked.

"Not at all," Sherry said.

"Hello, Gil," Victor said, squinting at him. Gil held a tall drink in his hand, his inevitable prop. Ice tinkled in the glass as he sat down cross-legged on his towel next to Connie.

"Gil, this is Connie," Sherry said, introducing them. "She works here in the lounge. She serves cocktails. With your consumption, you two should get along famously. Gil is my agent," Sherry added.

Gil grinned, taking in Connie's full, ripe body. "Very nice to know you," he said seductively.

The word "agent" seemed to perk Connie up considerably and Sherry guessed that her appraisal of Connie as an "important people seeker" was correct. She gave Gil a fetching smile, revealing perfectly capped teeth and said, "It must be wonderful and exciting representing real talent," she said. "Traveling all over and seeing interesting and exciting places." Her voice raised a full octave in pitch.

Gil took a long sip from his drink, then contemplated Connie's remark as he chewed ice. "Yes," he agreed, nodding, "and then sometimes it's a lot of shit. Pure, unadulterated bullshit."

Gil had had quite a bit to drink, Sherry could tell, and Connie didn't know just how to react. There was a nervous trembling about the edges of her fixed smile. Gil liked to shock people with language when he'd been drinking. It was one of his favorite games. But of course Connie didn't know that. Victor propped himself up on one elbow grimacing. "Please forgive Gil," he said. "When he's hitting the sauce he has a tendency to try to startle people. You don't find dealings related to our act distasteful do you, Gil?" Victor asked.

"Of course not," he said somewhat apologetically. "I'm talking about entertainment directors and all the crap you have to put up with in dealing with the no-talents. It's the mediocre ones who demand the moon. Sherry here is just ripe."

"I'd hoped so," Victor said, relaxing on the chair again.

"Language like that doesn't bother me," Connie insisted condescendingly, sensing tension. "I'm a cocktail waitress, remember? I hear all kinds of language every night, believe me. Don't worry," she said. "I'm a big girl."

"Yes, I can see that," Gil said. He ran his eyes over her crotch and breasts lecherously. "You're a big girl all right. Are you twenty-one?"

"Yes," Connie answered blinking in surprise. "Why?"

"Never mind," Gil said, taking her by the hand. "That means you're old enough to have a drink and – and everything. Come on, I want to talk to you, honey. Come with me."

Connie looked a little helplessly at Victor and Sherry but nevertheless permitted Gil to lift her to her feet. "Where-where are we going?" she asked, glancing at Sherry for approval. Sherry could see through Connie's false reluctance to depart with the agent of Sherry Trent. She would probably go anywhere with anybody she thought was important.

"Go ahead," Sherry coaxed. "Gil just wants to show you around, convince everybody that he's not in his forties." She winked.