Read Whiff Of Money for Free Online Page B

Benny?'
    'That's right.' He could see by the sudden interest in her eyes that he appealed to her. 'Are you?'
    'Me?' Girland laughed and sat down two chairs away from her. 'Benny wouldn't want to shoot me. I'm just paying a social call. I'm Mark Girland.'
    I'm Vi Martin.'
    Again they regarded each other. This was a girl, Girland told himself, who could be exciting in bed.
    'Do you do much work for Benny? he asked. She grimaced.
    'About once a month. The competition is fierce. Every little cow with good legs and tits comes rushing here. They'll even be shot for nothing.'
    'That's tough. What else do you do beside work for Benny?'
    'Oh, I model clothes.' She was vague enough for Girland to guess this wasn't strictly the truth. 'What do you do?'
    I live off the fat of the land,' Girland said airily. I don't believe in work. It's against my principles.'
    'It's against mine too, but I have to eat.'
    'A doll with your looks shouldn't have to worry.'
    She smiled.
    I didn't say I worried. Do you mean you don't do any work?'
    'Not if I can avoid it'
    'And you live off the fat of the land?' She let the wrap slip a little and Girland had a glimpse of firm, well-rounded thighs before the wrap was whipped into place.
    I get by. Perhaps one of these evenings we could get together over a dinner and I'll tell you about it... that is if you are interested.'
    She regarded him, then nodded.
    I could be. I've always wanted to live off the fat of the land and not do any work.'
    'This sounds as if we have a lot in common. Do you know Chez Garin restaurant?'
    Her sapphire coloured eyes opened wide.
    'I've heard of it... isn't it terribly expensive?'
    Girland shrugged.
    'So-so. The food's good. Perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tonight at nine? We could meet there.'
    She stared at him, then her face hardened.
    I hate being kidded so you can skip the routine.'
    'Listen, cherie, I don't kid beautiful dolls,' Girland said quietly. 'When I invite a doll like you to dinner, she stays invited.'
    'A girl can get stood up,' Vi said bitterly. 'I'd look wet, wouldn't I, if I turned up at that restaurant, and you weren't there to take care of the check.'
    'Okay... if you're that suspicious... I'll pick you up. Where do you live, unbeliever?'
    She relaxed and laughed.
    'I'll believe you. Nine o'clock then at Chez Garin.' She leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling. 'Do you have abstract paintings to show me after dinner?'
    'Nothing like that,' Girland said, meeting her look. 'But I do have a beautiful Bukhara rug.'
    'I've never been asked to do it on the floor before.'
    'You haven't? It's the rage this season. You don't know what you're missing.'
    The door burst open and what appeared to be an elephant stamped into the room. This was Benny Slade's normal entrance. In spite of his 280 lbs., he moved always with a quick rushing charge, surprisingly light on his small feet.
    Before Girland could avoid the rush, he was engulfed in enormous fat arms and hugged to breasts that felt like plastic balloons, beaten on the back with hands that felt like pads of dough, then pushed back while Benny beamed on him, his enormous, jovial fat face joyful and delighted.
    'Mark, my duckie darling! I'm so pleased! Imagine coming here! Only last night, I was dreaming of you and now ... here you are!'
    'Throttle back, Benny,' Girland said, escaping from the embrace. 'You're giving me a bad reputation. We have a lady present'
    Benny giggled.
    'So like you, pussy-cat.' He beamed at Vi. 'Hello, baby. This is my very good, nice boy-friend, Mark Girland. He's quite the loveliest man!He...'
    'Benny! Wrap it up!' Girland said sharply. 'We've already met. We know each other. Don't be so goddamn exuberant.'
    Benny's fat face fell. 'Have I said anything wrong?'
    'Not yet... but you are showing signs. Miss Martin is waiting to be shot.'
    Benny made a motion of dramatic despair. Not now, sweetie,' he said, turning to Vi. 'I'm sorry. . . I'm devastated, but I must talk to Mark. You