Jean-Jacques Tibor
The loser_s wife

CHAPTER ONE

The lights in the cabaret lounge brightened again and the spots centered on the casual figure on the stage. As Johnny Dutton finished another number the applause was spontaneous and enthusiastic.

The lounge was almost completely filled, though more with middle-aged women than others and the young singer had a way of capturing the audience completely. His delivery was ultra-casual and the smooth richness of his voice was a portent of the great star many figured him soon to become.

As the orchestration behind him launched into a Bossa Nova medley, the man singing in the center of the stage had the total attention of the women in the audience, but many of the men had settled on a different attraction.

To these men the stunningly beautiful girl seated alone at a small table held more fascination for them than any male singer could ever have.

Even in the dimness of the showroom it was evident that the leggy brunette was extraordinarily lovely. Her glossy ebony hair was very long and draped casually over one shoulder, so black and glistening that it seemed to be a deep royal purple. The darkness of her hair was strikingly contrasted with the china white of her skin and the light grey-blue eyes.

She sat oblivious to the stares of the men in the audience, intent only on the singer, and as he finished his song her applause was even more enthusiastic than any other.

Johnny, if he hadn't been blinded by the spotlights and could have seen the distraction the girl was causing, might have been filled with a combination of annoyance and pride. He wouldn't have liked the influence she had on his audience, he wanted them to see and hear no one but him – but the girl was Laura, his wife. And there were times when he wanted to stand and shout, "Look, you unfortunate people! Look at what's mine, all mine!"

At the small table the same desire was passing through the girl's proud admiring thoughts.

He's so wonderful, she thought silently, so talented and handsome. Oh, Johnny, they all love you so much, but no one can ever love you the way I do! No one can ever want you the way I do, from the moment I first saw you…!

She was jolted suddenly from her silent reverie by the scrape of a chair that was moved out from her table. She looked up into the oily slickness of the man's face who was joining her without invitation and felt a chill of revulsion pass quickly through her.

Deke Vito! Johnny's boss, and the man who controlled the hiring of all the talent that was booked into the cabaret shows in the three major clubs in downtown Reno.

Anyone seated nearby would immediately have noticed the distaste on her face, but it went unseen by the swarthy man as he joined her. He wasn't unhandsome in a Latin sort of way, but the small sharply trimmed mustache and his slick oiled appearance caused an unpleasant reaction in almost anyone who met him.

Perhaps he had sensed this so many times in his fifty two years that his subconscious had built in an automatic screening device and he no longer even noticed the adverse reactions.

Laura slid her chair to the side slightly to make more room for him only to have him move closer still, until their thighs were touching.

He's so repulsive, she thought. So Goddamned sneaky! But, for Johnny's sake I can't offend him.

She nodded at him, trying to affect a warm smile, and returned her attention to her husband as he began another number. Deke Vito glanced at her half-filled drink and snapped his fingers at a passing waitress.

As he gave the girl the order, Laura watched him fondle the woman's leg.

That pig! He'd never get away with it if he didn't have so much control in this casino. And he thinks the girls let him touch them because he's so attractive!

"Laura, baby… that chick's got nice wheels, but they ain't nowhere as gorgeous as your legs." He leered at her in what she thought he figured was a seductive glance. "Yes sir, Johnny's got himself a nice little thing going hasn't he?"

He leaned over to pat her hand as he spoke, and she had to fight the desire to jerk it away from him. She reached for a cigarette, using it as an excuse to remove her hand, and tried to change the direction the conversation was definitely heading.

"Deke. What do you think of Johnny? Isn't he great! He sure has this crowd wrapped around his little finger, doesn't he?"

"What, oh yeah. 'Course they're just a bunch of frustrated ol bags hungerin' for a young guy." He chewed on his cigar as he gazed contemptuously around the people filled room. "Hey, don't get me wrong. Your boy's alright. Someday he might just get somewhere. Yeah, someday, if he's got the right influence behind him." He nudged her painfully. "Yeah, I might just decide to give the kid the right push… if I had a little cooperation. Know what I mean…?"

Good God! she thought. He's finally come right out with it. She tried frantically to think of something to say that would avoid acknowledging his question.

"Come on, Deke," she laughed hesitantly. "You know we'd both appreciate anything you could do. Johnny thinks you're the greatest manager in the world." She paused. "Hey, listen, Deke… he's going to do that song everyone likes so much…"

But the man just leaned closer, ignoring her. "Johnny? No, baby, I'm thinking of a way you and I can help his career… you and me."

Just as she started to pull away from him they were interrupted by the waitress with their drinks. In the moments that it took him to find his pen and sign the drink tab Johnny finished the last number in the set and the house lights came on.

She watched her husband finish the song on his knees like Al Jolson, bowing his head to the standing applause of the audience. He's so terrific, she thought. I can't hurt his career with Vito. Please, God, get him over here before Deke gets a chance to continue!

The man at her side turned disappointedly from the waitress to watch Johnny Dutton thread his way through the milling crowd toward the table.

"Hi, honey… Hey, Deke, how'd you like the show! Boy, these people are great. Man, what a great set! Hey, how did you…"

Laura watched her husband's excited gesticulations, heard him rattling happily to his manager. Her relief at having him break up the conversation that Vito had started was spoiled by the realization that Johnny was loaded again.

Whenever he finished a set with a good audience he was always wound up, but again tonight she recognized the glassiness in his eyes, the soft slurring in his voice when he spoke, and knew that he'd been drinking heavily again.

It was strange. He could get up on the stage completely smashed and it never showed in his singing but as soon as he got away from the lights and the music it became very obvious to anyone that knew him.

Even Vito saw it. "Johnny, baby… you're on the sauce again. Man, you gotta cool it." There was a cold harshness in his voice, enough to make itself known to the singer.

"Hey, no Deke, I just had a couple," he said soberly. "My throat was kinda' sore."

Then he grabbed his manager by the arm. "Come on," he said cheerfully. "Let's hit the tables, tonight I feel lucky."

Laura reached out for him and he saw the movement, the apprehension in her eyes. "Don't worry, honey. Have a quick drink at the bar and I'll be right back." She started to protest, but before she could answer him, he shouted to the bartender at the lounge bar. "Hey, Harry, fix this lovely young lady up with another daiquiri and keep an eye on her for me, willya."

"Sure thing, Mister Dutton. Great show!"

As she was led to the bar Laura got a little consolation out of the bartender's remark. She knew everyone was impressed with Johnny and perhaps she was being a little unfair to him. Every entertainer had to unwind a little after three hours of constant work. Besides, if Johnny really was lucky tonight it would make up for some of the money he'd lost during the past few weeks.

The men at the bar parted to give her a seat with undisguised admiration in their eyes as she perched herself on the stool and tugged her short skirt back down to cover the shapely softness of her thighs.

Johnny kissed her lightly on the cheek and then he and Vito wove their way through the throngs of little old ladies at the slot machines with their paper cups of nickels, fighting their way to the center crap table.

Harry, true to his word, moved up to her end of the bar and mixed his drinks from that side. He stood there and talked to her, protecting her from the more confident men who had edged up with the hope that they might be lucky enough to pick her up.

"Laura," said Harry, "that man of yours sure is talented. I hear an awful lot here at the bar and, just like me, everyone thinks he's going to be a great star. But," he added thoughtfully, "he's got to watch the booze."

She turned to the kindly old man behind the bar, thankful for his company and the advice she knew only too well to be true. Besides, he was talking about the only thing that really mattered to her anymore. Johnny. Johnny and his success.

"Thank you, Harry. You know how much it means to him. It's all he's ever wanted. And…" she continued with a sigh, "the drinking's just temporary." The men standing nearby had heard the bartender's remark and each of them, if for no other reason than an excuse to talk to the beautiful girl, moved close enough to say that they agreed.

She sat there for a little over an hour, acknowledging the talk whenever she had to, and watching her husband at the dice table. She could tell from his animated expressions and joyous laughter that he was winning, and also from the trips that the cocktail waitress was making to the table that he was drinking very heavily. Vito was still there along with about fifteen other people, but they were all standing back watching her husband make one winning pass after another with the dice.

As Harry poured another daiquiri for her she thought inwardly that she really couldn't criticize Johnny's drinking. Sitting there, she had already had five or six of the rum-flavored cocktails and she could feel the dizzying warmth spreading through her.

She glanced around wondering what time it was but there were no clocks on the casino walls. "The City Without Clocks". In Reno, as in any of the other gambling centers in the country, the casinos were open 24 hours a day and none of them displayed any clocks on the walls. Inside the clubs it was impossible to tell night from day and the casinos had no desire to remind anyone how long they had been drinking or gambling.

Laura turned to one of the hovering men for the time and was amazed to find that it was almost three in the morning. She was due back in the casino at noon in her job as a cocktail waitress. Turning to watch Johnny again, she realized there was no way to get him peacefully out of there in his present exuberant condition, particularly while he was ahead.

She called Harry over to say goodnight and rose a little unsteadily from her stool.

A few moments later, during a lull when the dice were being passed to another player she pulled Johnny to the side to tell him she was leaving.

When he felt her hand on his arm he jerked away angrily and started to say something, but she interrupted him…

"No, darling, I'm not asking you to go. I have to, because I'm due back early in the morning."

He mumbled something unintelligible and turned back to the game, patting her clumsily on the buttocks.

He's so different so cold, when he's drinking. He never drank so much before, she thought. It's only been since he started working here. And the gambling! If only he was working somewhere besides a casino! It was so much better before.

She and Johnny had only been married a little over three months and working in the casino just three weeks. His last job had been in Denver and until they'd reached the gambling areas in Nevada she had never known he had such an insatiable desire to gamble.

Now, it was only her money as a waitress that kept them going. And that wasn't enough. Although he was being paid very well to perform in the cabaret, in the past weeks he'd lost every cent on the tables. She'd pleaded with him to stop, they couldn't even pay their rent, but it had only led to violent arguments.

Finally, she had reconciled herself to the fact that there was no way to stop him, and she only hoped that he'd be through here soon.

His next engagement was supposed to be in either San Francisco or Hollywood and the temptation of gambling wouldn't exist. Maybe then they'd be able to get along a little better. She might not even have to work.

She made her way through the crowded club and out onto the brightly lit street. Even in the middle of the night the streets were full of people crossing from one casino to another, the winners smiling and the losers scowling.

Laura walked through the tunnels of flashing neon lights until she came to a darkened street several blocks away. She turned there, passing through a part of Reno the tourists never see. Winos and derelicts sprawled in blackened comers and row after row of sleazy buildings offering rooms for the night for those fortunate enough to scrape up fifty cents or a dollar.

The street always made her uneasy and though the night was warm she shivered as she pulled her coat a little tighter.

She paused under a street light and stared at the ramshackle box-like hotel on the other corner. She was looking for a light in the manager's room. Old Mr. Rogers, the manager, always seemed to be wandering around at any hour of the day or night, and he was the last person in the world she wanted to see.

He had been hounding Johnny and her each time they came in for the overdue rent, and more than that, every time Laura turned around he seemed to be watching her. He was like all the others and she knew exactly what he wanted from her. There was no mistaking that evil glint in his eyes.

She stepped back out of the light and waited until she was satisfied the dirty old man wasn't awake to see her come in and then dashed across the street to the hotel's front door. Laura opened the door as quietly as she could and slipped inside. The single bulb hanging from the long cord in the hallway cast eerie shadows up the narrow flight of stairs to her and Johnny's rooms.

She walked quickly up to the apartment and locked the door and then rested on the edge of the bed to let the pounding in her heart slow down a little.

Even before she removed her coat, she went into the bathroom to run the water in the tub and then mixed herself a strong drink in the closet-sized kitchen, happy she had missed their lecherous old landlord and his obscene looks he always gave her.

Moments later she sat on the creaky bed in her slip and sipped her drink. The bourbon and the soft music from the radio wasn't enough to dispel the gloom that had settled over her as she recalled the way Johnny had been acting lately. Feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes she quickly finished her drink and went back into the kitchen to make another before going back into the bathroom.

The El Diablo Hotel had once been the private home of a wealthy Spanish family and remnants of its past glory could still be seen in some of the fine woodwork that still remained or in the old photographs in the lobby that depicted it with the great verandah and fluted columns.

But the last of the Spanish owners had died more than twenty years ago and since that time the house had had many proprietors. It slowly changed from a fine home into a second-rate hotel, and finally became the property of Mr. Eloysius Rogers.

This was the man that made Laura so uncomfortable. A short fat, unkempt man about fifty-five years old. She had complained several times to Johnny that he always seemed to be watching her but her husband had just laughed and replied that so was everyone else, that she ought to feel proud.

Perhaps Johnny Dutton wouldn't have considered the matter so lightly if he had been fully aware of the old manager's movements whenever Laura was in the apartment.

Mr. Rogers sat completely concealed in the darkness except for the rounded mask of light on his face. He has turned off all the lights in his room and the only illumination came from the next room, through the hole he had drilled in the wall.

He had lain awake for hours in the blackness of his room, waiting for Laura Dutton to come home. He felt very pleased with his patience. Most of the time the young girl came home with her husband and though it was still exciting to watch her undress, to watch her husband fucking her, he liked it best when she was alone. Then, in the darkness he could pretend that she was undressing for him, that he was the man waiting in the bed for her…

He sat nervously in the quietness and took long pulls at the bottle of cheap wine beside him. Why was she taking so long in that Goddamned bathroom?

The slim, statuesque brunette wiped the last traces of cold cream from her face and dried herself with a small towel. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror made her feel better. She rarely wore much makeup, and now without it her face was extraordinarily beautiful. Even in the harshness of the bathroom light her skin was flawless and her eyes still that strange shade of very light blue. The bourbon had made her knees a little weak and she steadied herself with one hand as she carefully brushed her coal-black hair into blue-lighted glossiness.

She was wearing only a sheer silk nighty over her bra and panties and she stepped back from the mirror, opening it and trying to see the fullness of her figure in the small mirror. It was no use, the mirror was too high for her to see more than the tops of her shoulders.

She picked up her empty glass and moved back into the softly lighted bedroom, closing the bathroom behind her. It took only a moment in the kitchen to get some ice and make herself another drink and then she came back to stand before the full-length mirror in the bedroom.

Laura felt the soothing heat of the liquor spreading through her, numbing the sadness of a life that was going wrong, a husband that drank and gambled continually.

She often wondered if there was something she was doing wrong. She wondered if somehow her looks were fading. But, now as she stood before the mirror she knew nothing had happened to her appearance. If anything, now at twenty-two she was even more attractive than as a teenager.

If I have gained any weight, she thought, it doesn't seem to show anywhere. Of course I can't really tell with this lace thing on.

The man in the shadows on the darkened other side of the wall watched the girl undo the ribboned bow at her neck and tried to stifle a sudden gasp as the silken negligee slid from her shoulders and fell to the floor.

Laura stepped out of the swirled silk at her feet and returned her gaze to the reflection in the mirror. She stood at first with both hands on her hips, her legs slightly spread, and studied the image that faced her. She went through a checkpoint system that she always followed whenever she examined her body to make sure that she wasn't sagging or gaining weight in any area.

First, my feet and ankles, she said to herself, then laughed. There really isn't much a woman can do to make a foot pretty except cover it. At least they're small. And my ankles still look too slim to support me.

Her eyes moved a little higher, resting for a moment on her calves and then upward to her thighs. Her legs were perfect, with just enough weight to shape their flawless curves but still firm and slender.

I'm awfully lucky, Laura thought as she ran her hands over her thighs and across the firm flatness of her belly. She slid them past the elastic ridges of her black silk bikini panties and upward to her breasts…

The peeping man sat entranced, leaning forward on the hard chair as he watched each sensuous move Laura Dutton made. He knew that as long as he made no noise there was no possibility that she might catch him. The hole that he had cut in the wall between the two rooms was disguised on each side by a phony ventilating grill.

When she had come home earlier and he had seen her remove her dress he had felt the familiar erection beginning beneath his trousers, but it had disappeared during the long time she had been in the bathroom.

Now, as she stood almost nude in the other room, he could again feel his penis straining painfully against the confines of his clothing. He stared intently through the small hole, gulping sloppily at his wine and trying to anticipate each further move the beautiful girl might make.

Laura cupped her full breasts in both hands and raising them. Even without the support of the bra she would have been able to raise the curved globes only slightly. Her breasts were so firm that they sagged very little, if at all.

My God! If only Johnny were here, she moaned aloud as she felt her nipples respond to the caresses of her hands. My breasts feel so sensitive, so eager to be touched. I want to feel his hands on me. I want him here to put his hands on me…!

She stood there with her eyes half closed, not consciously realizing what she was doing, and reached behind her to unsnap the small hooks that held her straining bra. As it fell to the floor and the cool air washed across her reddened, erectile nipples she shivered in quick delight. Christ! Why isn't he here! It feels so wonderful when he kisses me there, when I can feel his tongue on my breasts… when he bites me so tenderly.

She had moved back slightly from the mirror while holding herself and now she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her calves. The combination of the liquor and the sudden desire that had been racing through her made her feel a little weak and she threw the covers back and lay down on the bed.

The coldness of the sheets was doing nothing to counteract the raging heat in her body and her legs strained as she stretched spread-eagled on the cool linen…

I've got to stop this, she thought, I'm driving myself crazy. It's these Goddamn panties, they're so hot! I'm going to take them off and try to relax.

The old man's breath echoed back at him, coming in huge explosive gasps, as he watched her slowly inching the last remaining strip of sheer black silk from her raised hips.

She kicked the panties from her feet. Oh God! Where's Johnny! I want him here! I want to feel his hands here… between my legs… holding me… inside me!

Laura's hands were between her thighs, lightly probing their way up and down and finally coming to rest on the raised mound of softly curled pubic hair…

Mr. Rogers felt his blood boiling into a great pounding pressure in his brain. He couldn't believe it! Right before his eyes she was holding herself like that! Then he heard those strange moaning sounds coming from her lips. He tried to get closer, to hear was she was saying. Slowly he tried to calm the roaring noises in his head until he was able to make out her words.

"Johnny, where are you… Ohhhhhhhhhhhh… Johnny, please hurry… I want you… I need somebody… anybody…! I need somebody. Now…! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh… Johnny, SOMEBODY… please, please help me…!"

She was begging! The old man heard her. She's begging! That little bitch! I'll help her. I'll help her right now!

The man moved back so quickly he knocked over the chair but neither he nor the girl in the other room heard it as it fell to the floor. Or the door slam as he hurried from his room.

Laura writhed violently on her bed, straining in unfulfilled desire. Her eyes were closed tightly as she drove her fingers faster and faster in and out of her eager, heated vagina… she didn't hear her door open… and the click of the light being turned off meant nothing to her crazed, lust-filled mind…

It wasn't until moments later when she felt the weight of someone on the bed, felt the mattress sag, that she realized someone was here with her.

"Johnny…! Oh, Johnny! Darling… you came… Oh, I want you so much, I need you now…!"

"AHhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she felt the fiery shock spread through her as his body touched hers.

"Oh yes…! please, put it in me…! please, I want you to make love to me now… I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME…!"

The words burst from her lips in broken sentences, and her hands clawed at the man's back, pulling him with all her strength against her eager, reaching hips. She moaned from deep in her throat as she felt the hot, blood-filled head of his cock slowly part the slit of her cunt and slip wetly inside.

"OHhhhhhhhhhhhh… YES…! inside me… more… More… MORE…! Oh my God…! hurry, darling… HURRY…!"

She felt a great, roaring heat filling her, swelling and expanding inside the hot, stretched walls of her pussy… not going deeper, but saturating her entire being with a flowing wall of fire and hardened flesh.

Her mind spun in huge, whirling circles – spinning colors blinding her to everything but the raging torrent of desire in her loins. Throwing her legs out wide into the air, her hands dug into his buttocks and aided his pounding rhythm.

An explosion was building in her she couldn't control. With each massive plunge of his throbbing cock she felt a new wave of ecstasy crash thunderously deep within her grinding hips.

"Aaaarrrggghhhhh! Yes, yes… harder… that's it!" she screamed in his ear. "Oh my God! Oh, yes, Johnny."

It was more than the old man could take. After watching her for almost an hour from the other room, the excitement was becoming too much for him and he couldn't wait much longer. He strained against her, driving himself as deeply as he could and trying desperately to hold back a little longer.

"OHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… faster, FASTER!" Her fingernails raked his back as she strove to move him more quickly. "Yes! That's it, soon, darling, soon…"

She hung onto him, arching her back higher and higher, trying to hold back the impending explosion growing and swelling deep in her belly.

She moaned and churned beneath him with each hard, driving lunge, her face contorted into a strained mask of undisguised passion. Then she screamed.

"NOW!" her guttural cry shattered the softer noises in the darkened room. "Now…! Ohooooooooh, yes…! I'm cuming! I'm cuuuummming!"

Just as she felt him jerk against her, felt him filling her with powerful spurts of flowing, hot burning sperm, she felt herself erupting inside like a giant explosion rolling across the earth.

She strained against him, hanging on with all her strength as she throbbed out her own passion thick rivulets of white, liquid semen bubbled out from her cunt-lips around the tight, flesh-clasped prick and rolled down the quivering crevice of her buttocks to the sheets below.

It ended for them both in the same wild, instantaneous moment, leaving only an aftermath of two tightly clinging bodies panting out the last dying pleasures of their orgasm.

She fell back against the bed with her head lolling to one side and soft mewling sounds escaped breathlessly from her parted lips.

The man collapsed on top of her, spittle dripping from his lips as he dropped his head against her cheek.

"Oh God, it was wonderful… Johnn…" She stopped. He didn't feel right. It wasn't Johnny's head! He didn't feel like…

"Who… who are you!" she screamed, kicking at him with her legs and trying to get out from beneath him. She rolled violently to the side, half falling to the floor.

"No, no…! who are you!"

Laura ran stumbling to the light switch by the door and scratched frantically for it before her hands found the panel. The room was suddenly filled with a blinding brightness. Then, as her eyes adjusted, the form of the man who had just fucked her began to take shape.

Great, wracking sobs shook her as she recognized the triumphantly smiling face. "You… it's you, you beast, you miserable beast!" How could it have been? How was he here in her room!

The screaming girl groped drunkenly for her robe and tried to clear the shattered cobwebs of her mind. She stumbled against the dressing table and her fingers closed around a heavy glass ashtray. She grabbed it hysterically and threw it at the man trying to pull on his trousers. The glancing blow left a blood-streaked gash on his forehead, almost knocking him to his knees.

Laura ran at him and her hands became claws that slashed at the short, fat man. But the impact of the ashtray, rather than stunning him, had angered him.

He grabbed her flailing arms and threw her violently back against the bed knocking the breath out of her.

He stood over her with his hands on his hips, a smile flickered across his face before it was replaced with a sneer.

"One, Mrs. Dutton, there was no rape! You called out for me to come in…" Before the sobbing girl could interrupt, he continued, "and furthermore, before you entertain any thoughts of going to the authorities you might consider how it would sound if I testified that it was you who enticed me in here and offered your body to me in exchange for the back rent."

He paused, very proud of the authoritative tone of his voice, and then continued threateningly, "I'm known and respected around her and I seriously doubt anyone would take your word over mine."

Laura was so shaken she could barely understand what was happening. She only knew that something terrible had occurred to her and that the man in front of her, the fat little manager that had caused it, was threatening her with something else. She tried to clear the cobwebs from her befuddled mind and listen to what he was saying.

"I would suggest that you remain silent about this. Tell no one and, just to avoid any trouble in the hotel, I'll consider your back rent paid in full."

He stopped to make sure she understood everything she was saying. He saw the wide-eyed fright, her silence, and realized he had made it. He'd have no trouble from her he was sure.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Dutton. Think over what I've said and I'm sure everything will work out perfectly."

He'd finished buttoning his shirt and he picked up his shoes and smiling back at her helpless form, walked out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.