Charles Ames III’s visits see to the Heartbreakers at Max’s nor the Dictators at CBGBs had introduced him to a world of loud music and bad behavior, but neither hadn’t prepared him for the deparavity of dancers’ lewd gyrations on the Dollhouse stage.
The naked women offered their sweating flesh to the drunken men for a as little as a $1 bill. Their nudity blinded the leering audience to the dancers’ shortcomings in beauty, age, or weight. They were selling sex in plain view. A session of groping at the bar cost as little as $5 and couples vanished into the backroom for the more expensive range of services. The crudity of the transactions appalled Charles and he had hid in the dark corner waiting for Tammi to appear on stage.
”You lookin’ for some company.” A slattern brunette slipped into the shadows to suggest a ‘manual happy ending’ for $10.
”Sorry, but I’m not interested.” Charles roughly brushed away her hand from his lap, as Tammi leaped onto the stage in a cheap nightie to Donna Summer’s LOVE TO LOVE YOU BABY.
The slender redhead was obviously a crowd favorite and the nen fought to give her $1s and $5s in reward for Dollhouse’s youngest dancer for her uninhibited undulations. She clearly luxuriated in the sordid adoration and stripped off the see-through garment to the unshackled delight of her audience.
Charles had previously fantasized about their eloping for a tour of the world’s most romantic vistas; holding hands along the River Seine, riding a Venetian gondola, and even sex on a secluded Tahitian beach, but these idyllic mirages were shattered by the horrifying spectacle of her grinding bare flesh to the hypnotic disco hit and he hobbled from the Dollhouse to the safety of his Lincoln.
“Is everything all right?” His driver opened the rear door.
“Everything’s fine. Just take me home.”
”Yes, sir.” Bobby shut the door and hurried to get behind the wheel. The Dollhouse wasn’t for the faint of heart.
As the car crossed Broadway, Charles sought an explanation for his flight. The Metropolitan Museum had hundreds of naked statues and the other dancers’ bare skin hadn’t bothered him, but Tammi’s blissfully performing before those perverts evoked pornographic images of her of her making love with Sean. Charles couldn’t erase this novie and asked himself, "Why does she love him and me?"
His answers were ruthless.
He was a cripple. His sole asset was money and wealth meant nothing to a white trash runaway.
Charles banged his head against the window of the Lincoln.
"Cut that out," his driver shouted and Charles’ skull struck the glass harder.
The Lincoln screeched to a halt and Charles’ driver yanked his passenger into the street.
"Hurting yourself won’t win you Tammi."
"Tammi?"
"I might not be one of your smart friend, but I can see what this is all about. You and Tammi."
"It will never happen." Charles sagged against the car.
"With Sean out the picture, you never know.”
"You mean kill him.” Murder meant prison, even for someone with his money.
“No, let another woman takes her place."
"I’m not interested in anyone else." Charles should be chasing college coeds or society debutantes, instead of an underaged stripper. Girls of his class spoke French, wore chic clothing and had their hair styled on Madison Avenue, only their sophistications were shallow affectations in comparison to Tammi’s utter abandon on stage.
“”I’m talking about you and someone else, but Sean and someone else. A girl from a very exclusive world. One would do anything for you. One who would steal Sean from Tammi.”
“I know a woman like that?” His social contact of females had been limited to nurses and his sister after his accident. His driver nodded and Charles said, "You mean my sister?"
Caroline had revealed the mysteries of the female body to him at an early age playing doctor and nurse. She had been caught showing herself naked to a family guest at 13. Convent schools expelled her for corrupting other students with her wantonness. For his 19th birthday she had taken him to a sex club under the Ansonia Hotel, arranging the loss of his virginity with two libertines from Julliard Ballet School.
"Your sister is rich, beautiful, and wild." She wasn't his type, but he had seen the way the blonde heiress looked at men and they returned her gaze with lust-filled eyes.
"I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving." Caroline had her eyes on an old business associate of their father. Her uncontrollable appetite was a tough act to witness. Still she had her limits and Charles said, “My sister has this bias against the lower classes. Sorry, but she doesn’t consider you human.”
“I don’t think I’m human either., but we’re not talking about me, but Sean. Your sister loves you?
“Love?” He had never heard her speak the word.
"Your sister wouldn’t let you get hurt, right?"
"No."
Bobby studied the penthouses lining the East 57th Street. None of them were as tall as Charles’ building. "You hurt yourself falling off a roof?"
"It was an accident."
"I bet the doctors thought you did it on purpose.”
“But I didn’t.” During his recuperation period in the hospital Charles had been subjected to a merry-go-round of analysts, psychiatrists, and head doctors, seeking a psychological explanation for his climbing on the roof. None of them were willing to accept a teenager had committed an act of stupidity.
“I know you didn’t.”
“My sister does too.”
“Trust me, your sister isn’t sure.” He had heard her talking with their father. “So you put on a show out for her on the penthouse terrace."
"You mean stand on the wall?" A three-story plunge had merely crippled him. A forty-floor fall was fatal to man or beast. “I don’t want to die.”
"No one saying anything about jumping.”
“You mean pretend?”
“Yes, your sister sees you on the ledge and she'll do anything you ask.” Bobby mimicked the act, wavering on the curb. “She steals away Sean, leaving you an opening to Tammi.”
“You actually think it would work?”
”It’s a stupid and simple plan. They work the best with matters of the heart.”
”Why are you doing this?”
”Because it’s my job, plus I expect a bonus if it works.” Bobby admitted that he was in this scheme strictly for the money. His tastes were simple and he had his eyes on a GTO
“And you think it would work?” Charles slumped against the Lincoln. His life was meaningless without Tammi. "I really have nothing to lose?"
"Only one way to find out, because you can’t win if you don’t play.” Bobby Vacca misquoted from an Off-Track Betting ad, which drew millions of desperate people to the smoky betting parlors and he was offering Charles a greater reward than money.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“You won’t regret it.” Bobby helped the millionaire inside the Lincoln.
On the drive to the penthouse he perfected his plan. No sane person was so desperate to accept such a mad proposition, then again this venture had to succeed, because Bobby wasn't missing Christmas this year, even if he had to act as his own Santa Claus, since there was no better season for giving to yourself than the holidays.
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