"Believe me, that's cheap. Dirt cheap. You have to live in a good place
if you work for me, Laura. My decorator's coming over in an hour or
so, and we'll all go over there and plan things out for you. Meanwhile
let's get the photography out of the way."
One room of Spinelli's sprawling apartment had been converted into a
regular photo studio. The photographer, a thin, bald man with a domed
head and a peculiarly glassy-eyed stare, was busily setting up lights
and chalking off angles.
"All set?" Spinelli asked him crisply.
"Another few minutes, Mr. Spinelli. If the young lady will remove her
clothing so all marks of garments and belts can disappear--"
Laura hesitated. Skalkottis had come into the room.
"Go ahead," Spinelli said. "Didn't you hear him?"
"In front of everybody?" she asked.
"These men have seen the female body before, Laura. Yours isn't going
to be anything new to them. Come on, let's get the show moving."
Swallowing any lingering vestige of modesty, Laura began to remove her
clothes. She unbuttoned her blouse and draped it over a table, removed
her skirt, took off the half-slip. She sensed the tension in the room
as she bared her breasts; maybe these men had seen the female body
before, but they certainly took a lively interest in hers. A moment
later, the panties and garter-belt joined the rest of her clothing, and
she was nude.
"Over here," Spinelli ordered. "Stand under the light. Heinsohn, how
does she look?"
At the photographer's gesture, Laura turned in a complete circle. The
photographer said, "The garter-belt has left a mark on the upper part
of her buttocks, as you see. Otherwise she is ready. We'll do the front
views first, and perhaps by then the back will be ready."
Efficiently, he went about his work. He was obviously a master of
the art of photographing women. He showed Laura how to hold her arms
against her sides so her breasts would thrust forward even more than
they already did; he asked her to suck in her belly, to stand at a
slight angle, to smile with drooping lips, to look at the camera with
slitted eyes. He took more than a dozen shots--downward over her
shoulder to catch the steep thrust of her bosom, upwards toward the
crotch, profile, breast close-ups, everything. By that time, the marks
on her rear had disappeared and he was able to complete the set.
"I want the proofs at nine tomorrow morning," Spinelli said. He patted
Laura's buttocks. "Back into the clothes, girl. I'll show you your
apartment now."
Laura dressed quickly, and she and Spinelli drove the few blocks to
her new apartment. It was in an extremely modern building, and the
apartment was an attractive one, with spacious room and a nice little
terrace. Spinelli soon left, pleading urgent business elsewhere, and
Laura and Spinelli's decorator--a plump, dowdy little woman--conferred
on the furnishings.
Evidently Spinelli had pull even in the furniture world. Later that
evening, a van pulled up with a temporary bed and chest of drawers for
Laura, to last her for the few weeks it would take until her permanent
furniture arrived.
The next few days were hectic ones for Laura. She was busy poring over
fabrics and designs, spending sums of money that would have seemed
incredible to her only a week before. Spinelli told her not to worry,
that he would cover the cost of the apartment and she could pay him
back over as long a period of time as she chose.
The telephone was installed on the third day--a gleaming ivory one
in the bedroom-to-be, and a beige wall extension in the kitchen. The
apartment began to take shape as, with fantastic speed, the furnishings
arrived. Laura saw little of Spinelli during those days. He dropped in
from time to time to see what progress was being made, and he brought
over the proofs of Laura's photos to show her. They were astonishingly
intimate shots, and she blushed to see them, much to Spinelli's
amusement.
One of Spinelli's other girls was detailed to fill Laura in on the
ropes. She was a glamorous, somehow brittle-looking blonde in her late
twenties, who gave her name as Tania. Tania, it seemed, was one of the
veterans of Spinelli's staff, one who handled many of the "specialty"
clients. She gave Laura a thorough coaching on what she was expected to
do when with clients.
Laura listened carefully. She wanted to be a good pupil. She wanted to
be worth her salary.
At the end of that week, she had her first chance.
There was a call from Spinelli at half past two that day. "I've got an
assignment for you," he said simply.