Angelo called Rio ten times before he finally reached her.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘about the other night.’
‘No apologies,* Rio said with a deep, throaty laugh. ‘I understand, I’m a veree understanding lady.’
‘Maybe we can get together tonight?’
‘Honey, understanding I may be, only you and I don’t swing at the same pace.’
‘Hey—the other night was a mistake,’ he explained. That’s not usually the way I am. I don’t want to boast, but—’
She cut him short. ‘You’re a sweet, horny little guy, and great for teenyboppers and cute little bunnies who want some fast—and I do mean fast—action. But sweetheart, you and I are in different leagues.’
Angelo felt his whole reputation was at stake. ‘I can explain about the other night. It was—’
She interrupted him again. ‘Yeah, baby, it certainly was.’ And then she cut him off.
He threw the phone down in disgust. How dare that great big freak put him down like this? He wanted to see her, to prove his manhood. It was a slight to have her think of him as a sexual failure. Shit! He was a great fuck. Countless women could confirm that. He could go for hours. He had incredible control.
Picking up the phone, he dialed his married lady friend. ‘Come on over right now,’ he commanded.
‘I can’t, one of the children is sick,’ the woman apologized.
He slammed the phone down. Was he losing his touch?
Next he reached his female croupier friend. She arrived within the hour, and he rushed her into bed, giving her controlled action and countless orgasms for two hours. She screamed and moaned her appreciation. He found he couldn’t come himself. He was still hard when he threw her out.
He phoned Rio again.
‘Wow, you’re a very anxious little boy,’ she drawled mockingly. ‘I’m not into anxious guys. You know something, honey? It really turns me off.’
‘Can I come over?’ he asked, hating himself for begging, but consumed with the need to prove himself to her.
She consulted her watch; it was six o’clock. ‘Okay. Be here in five minutes.’
As soon as she put the phone down she went out.
Angelo hurried over and then waited outside her rented apartment for an hour, constantly pressing the buzzer. Naturally, there was no reply, which really pissed him off. Just who did the bitch think she was?
Finally he settled himself in at a nearby bar and had a few drinks. Every fifteen minutes he phoned her, getting no answer.
He consumed several Scotches. Normally he didn’t drink much; grass was his scene. Tonight he needed something.
By the time he arrived at the casino he was unsteady on his feet and belligerent. Eddie Ferrantino took one look and sent him home.
He called up another girlfriend and met her at Tramp. Rio was there, surrounded by her so-called friends.
‘You’re a fuckin’ bitch,’ he hissed at her.
‘And you’re a lousy lay,’ she hissed back.
‘Listen, lady—come home with me now and you’ll eat your words,’ he insisted, forgetting about his girlfriend.
‘It’s not words I’m interested in eating,’ she said with a mocking grin.
‘It’s not words you’ll get,’ he mumbled, wishing he was sober.
‘Let’s go,’ she said briskly.
They took a taxi. Rio flung off her clothes as soon as they entered his apartment.
Angelo realized he’d made a mistake. The booze had made his cock limp and his mind groggy.
‘Well?’ She faced him, hands on hips, legs spread. ‘Get your clothes off, lover. Let’s see what you can do.’
She stripped him herself. He couldn’t have summoned a hard-on if his life depended on it. Humiliation overcame him.
Laughingly she jeered, ‘Call Momma when you grow up to be a big boy. Okay, babe?’
And with that she dressed and left.