From White Flesh Black Market Book One, Chapter One
“So you went to fifteen?”
Porsche shrugged, her beautiful face clouded over. “I wasted it. I lost several thousand in a vertical drop.” It irritated her. This was no way to start the day. “I want to go again. I need to repair the error.”
Chris shook his head. “Porsche, don’t be silly. It was a perfect fall. Don’t put yourself through it again.”
At that moment, a buzzing sound came from Porche’s car.
She froze.
There would be no more jumps today.
“What’s that?” asked Chris, turning his head towards the noise.
Porsche steadied her reaction before she regained control of her faculties. Her body was always her best defence in moments like these.
She reached up for Chris’ face and turned him toward her, unzipping her suit at the same time. Chris’ eyes fell, once again to her cleavage as she pressed her arm against the outside of her breast pushing it forward.
“Be a dear and help me out of this?” She smiled as she let the zip float to her belly. Forgetting the buzzing, Chris moved his hands to her shoulders, sliding the jumpsuit off and the white body suit underneath. Porsche’s breasts fell out revealing she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Chris’ eyes fell out of his head.
Porsche looked down at her breasts and back at Chris’ face.
“Oh dear.” she said with mock dismay. “I seem to have forgotten something.”
From White Flesh Black Market Book One, Chapter 5
“Miss Marlowe, so wonderful to have you stay with us again. We have your usual suite ready. Can I offer you a welcome martini and something small to eat or would you prefer to go directly to your room?”
Porsche slowed her walking pace.
“Jacques! Darling! Fabulous to see you! Martini? But of course! I’m on the frivolous business of fun for a day or so and I’d love to start it off whetting the whistle!”
The Maître d’ bowed and gestured toward the Crystal Bar. Without breaking her step, Porsche turned to make her way in.
“On the house, madam.” The young bartender offered her a prepared dry martini with two olives. Porsche swept it off the counter in her stride and found a large table toward the back.
“I’ll take two trays of Hors d’oeuvres to start and keep the drinks coming darling; for me and my guests.”
The bar tender placed a napkin and small bowl of fresh olives beside her glass as he glanced at the large empty table.
“Is madam expecting someone in particular?”
Porsche smiled. “Of course not, darling. But with a skirt this short don’t you think the party will find me?”
The waiter smiled and took his leave.
Within five minutes Porsche was sitting before two large trays of Hors d’oeuvres and an elegant man dressed in a fashionable morning suit.
“I didn’t know you were coming. I could have organised something, so you didn’t have to wait.”
“Henri, I don’t care about that. I want a large party around me and with me in the next thirty minutes. It has to be the best of the best here. Do we have any film stars in Monty right now?”
“Audrey’s here. She’ll want to see you. Anthony Quinn and I think Rock might be here. Coco isn’t here, which is a shame. She just left last week and she would have loved to see you.”
“No fashion types if I can avoid it. I’d like names darling.”
“There’s a Beatle here!”
“Marvellous! Promising after that Ed Sullivan show gig. Which one.”
“Um… Paul, I think. I can’t tell those idiots apart.”
“They’re not huge but they are the next big thing. Get them here. Any other rock stars?”
“Oh yes, but mostly British ones. There’s some convention or something. A relatively new outfit called The Rolling Stones and someone called The Kinks.”
Porsche sighed. “Yes they’re fine, but is there anyone actually famous on the list?”
Henri’s eyes lit up! “Jan and Dean are in town and I think Anne Margaret.”
Porsche sighed. That would have to do.
“Ok. That’s a groovy list, and all of them will be happy to drink with me. Get them all here in thirty minutes will you darling?”
“With your name, no problem.”
Henri jumped up and moved to the bar to use the telephone. He sat a martini next to him.
Exactly four minutes later, Anne Margaret walked in with Elvis on her arm.
Porsche buried her sly smile and lit up her warm, surprised one in front of the two of them!
“Darlings!” she ran toward both. Elvis dropped Anne and grabbed Porsche, swinging her around in a huge bear hug. Anne didn’t look at all impressed. Porsche thrilled to the surprise success. This was exactly the super star she wanted.
“I’m having an early morning drink fest lovers. What’s your poison?” She fussed eagerly.
Soon the famous stars were at her seat with Audrey, Rock and Sean Connery who’d made a name for himself playing that silly spy on the silver screen. Porsche remembered a rare special night she Aston and Mercedes had gone to see ‘From Russia with Love’ and laughed themselves silly.
Better and better. A party like this would earn good gossip.
Soon the bar was thumping with a large group of new British upstart young rockers. Bill from the Rolling Stones told her they’d secured their own gig on the Ed Sullivan show, so Porsche was happy to have them there. Soon the Beach Boys moved into the bar and found themselves swamped by the young British admirers. There wasn’t one Beatle, but two, a man named George had come with Paul and there were congratulations all round as Jan Berry and Brian Wilson made jokes about a new British invasion.
As expected, with free booze and an on flow of the Hors d’oeveurs it didn’t take long to pack the bar to the rafters. Just as Audrey was cooing over her dress, Porsche spied what she had hoped for. Clon Daedalus walked in with four breathtaking women on his arms.
Henri would be at the door with the Maître d’ only permitting the who’s-who. The hotels loved her parties, especially when like a miracle they stemmed from one free martini, but it was Henri who could use her name to get the best people together. This shindig had taken him the thirty minutes specified.
The young waiter looked like he might pass out in shock.
