Daddy's plaything(47)

Sheila's head tossed from side to side as she sobbed now and apologized for the abuse she had subjected Victor to during their sex act.

This post-orgasmic period was in startling contrast to Sheila's early mood. She apologized again and again, explaining that she was "truly sorry" but she could achieve satisfaction only when she belittled and threatened and used the moat vulgar language at her male lovers.

Victor seemed to understand. "Yes, you were getting a little bit out of line there for a while but I assumed you had some hang up you were trying to rid yourself of. You're a most unusual piece of teenage ass, my dear – you can rest assured of that. While I haven't had a great deal of teenage tail I'd say, without any fear of contradiction, that you are indeed an aberrational phenomenon when it comes to kicking. Except when you're performing fellatio and your mouth is full of cock and you can't talk." He tweaked her cheek playful. "You sound like some kind of professor," Sheila said, frowning.

"Really," Victor said, his voice a cultured purr. "Yes, quite possibly I do. Perhaps it's an attempt on my part to counteract your filthy, sadistic language of a while ago. You didn't sound at all like the lady I thought you to be. You sounded more like a common prostitute. No," he said, correcting himself, "on second thought like some perverted freak."

"I'm truly sorry, Victor," Sheila said. Her voice was filled with remorse and she held Victor close begging forgiveness.

Sherry knew her father well. He was not the type to let himself be pushed around. Not in the least docile. Now he was getting even for what he had endured a while ago. She nudged Tony and signaled toward the door. "Let's get out of here before they see us," she whispered.

Tony nodded and they slipped out, quietly closing the door behind them. In the hall, Tony said, "Well, aren't you glad we eavesdropped?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Sherry said indifferently.





CHAPTER NINE




Although Sherry's first two shows of the evening brought a good audience response, she knew that she had performed poorly. Deep inside, she feared her father would discover the missing checkbooks and papers and that an ugly confrontation would ensue. Thus far, he hadn't discovered their absence and she and Tony sat in the hotel coffee shop in a large booth with Victor Redgrave and the most proper Miss Sheila Whitcomb. They made small talk, waiting for both Sherry's and Tony's final shows of the night to begin. Sheila was sipping a cup of hot chocolate when a man wearing a tuxedo came over and informed her that there was a long distance telephone call for her. She excused herself, slid out of the booth and followed the man.

"Probably one of her country club chums in Paris got bored and decided to call for a chat," Tony said.

Victor found the remark amusing and laughed as he dabbed his lips with his napkin. Sheila returned a few minutes later looking whit, aced and in a state of shock. She slid into the booth without uttering a word.

"Anything the matter, my dear?" Victor asked.

"Are you all right?" Sherry asked, concerned. The girl did look ghastly and she dabbed tears from her cheeks.

"Yes, I'm all right now," she said, finally. "Thank you." In a matter of seconds she seemed to have completely regained her composure. "It was about mother and father," she said evenly. "The plane they chartered for Las Vegas crashed and there were no survivors. The pilot and mommy and Daddy are dead."

Sherry stared in amazement. She had heard about people being made of steel but she had never actually seen one. Sheila sipped her hot chocolate now almost as though nothing had happened. She was unbelievably calm.

"I don't know what to say," Victor said. "I'm terribly sorry. You're absolutely certain?"

"Oh, Sheila, how terrible, dear. Is there anything we-we can do?"

"No," she replied. "I'm afraid there's nothing anyone can do. There's no question about it. The identification of the bodies was positive."

"Would you like to go to your room?" Victor asked.

"Yes," Sherry agreed. "Why don't you go to your room and – and rest? You can let yourself – well, give vent to the way you feel, dear. Daddy, maybe you ought to call the house physician." If Sherry was correct, Sheila didn't much care that her parents were dead. No, she thought. No, she's simply in a state of shock.

That's it. Shock. But then as Sheila spoke Sherry realized that this pampered, spoiled girl was not in shock at all. She had ice water instead of blood in her veins.

"That won't be necessary," Sheila said, smiling. She was actually smiling – not any forced, stoic front – but smiling! "I'd rather watch your last show. Perhaps later, Victor, you and I can have a late snack in my room."