Career Girls (14 page)

‘Thanks, Rossi,’ he said. ‘I owe you one. How’s “NY ‘ Scene” coming along?’

‘Great,’ shrugged Topaz. ‘I just speut a day in Central Park, interviewing everyone who used the carousel.’

‘Sounds good,’ Rosen nodded curtly, pleased because it did. ‘We’ll talk more at dinner.’

‘Sure,’ Topaz said, turning to go.

‘Work, work, work, she thought sadly. You uever look at anythiug else, do you?

Rosen drove down Baxter Street into Little Italy.

‘Where are we going?’ demanded Topaz, pissed-off because he hadn’t uoticed her low-cut dress.

‘Silver Palace,’ said Nathan, keeping his eyes locked on the road, as if that would help him forget about those incredible breasts staring him in the face. Dear God, please don’t let me get hard right in front of her. ‘I hear they have incredible dim sum.’

‘I want Italian,’ said Topaz mutinously.

‘Well, I want Chinese,’ replied Nathan amiably, ‘and I’m paying.’

‘You’re theboss,’ Topaz snapped.

He turned into Hester Street, heading for the Bowery, and ignored her.

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Topa watched the high tenement houses with their bcautiful iron fire escapcs slip past her. She felt more rclaxcd out of the office, in crowdcd Little Italy with its caf6s and Chinesc shops and almost European scuse of clutter:. ” Anyway, watching the scencry might take her mind offthc close-shaven grey and black hair at the side of Nathan’s head.

Miraculously, they got to the restaurant without anothcr

row.

‘What do you waat?’ Nathan asked, as one of the dina sum carts wheeled its way across the packed floor towards them.

‘Spring rolls, prawn dumplings, stcamed pork dumplings,’ said Topaz, somcwhat reconciled to Chinesc from the mouthwatcring scent of the food all around them.

Nathan heaped his plate. He worked out three times a week, drank no alcohol, and considercd good ice cream the ultimate human plcasure this side of sex, so he’d pig out ifhc damu well’felt like it.

Talkiug of sex, he was getting hard for Rossi. Her skirt had blown up just a little as she’d climbed the stairs in front of him. He couldn’t help himself.

‘… and I thiuk it’d be a great twist, you ask six celebrities what they read at school … ‘

‘ … that would be a winner, Nate, for the men’s titles”My Favourite One-Night Stand” by sportsmen… ‘

Roscu, makiug notes, choked ou a spriug roll. ‘Rossi!’ he protcsted, shocked.

‘Why not? Sex sells, especially men’s titlcs. And 1 thiuk you should suggest a cover-mount CD for White L(qht. Some books tried it in England.last year when I was at school, circulation quadrupled.’

Nathan jotted it down. It was fautastic, a ncvcr-cnding torrent of ideas. Where did she get it all from? He’d talk to Harry Birnbaum about her, he’d have to. There was a vacaucy for a features editor over at US Woman, and Topaz Rossi was obviously perfect for it. Whoever heard of a features editor with only one year’s cxpcricnce? Well, they. were about to.

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e watched her, leaning towards him, blue eyes sparkling with passionate enthusiasm.

‘I thought we were gonna talk about “NY Scene”, not what you’d do if you ran American Magazines,’ he said weakly.

Topaz shrugged. ‘You got a problem with “N Y Scene”?’ ‘No.’

‘We getting a good reader response?’

‘Pretty good,’ Nathan conceded. In fact, Westside had never seen so many letters.

‘So what’s to discuss?’ demanded Topaz.

He looked at her. ‘Young lady, I should take you across

my knee and spank you.’

Topaz felt herself getting slick between the legs. ‘Promises, promises,’ she said, touching him with her shoe.

‘

Nathan battled with himself. He was as hard as a rock.

‘Quit that,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Quit what?’ asked Topaz innocently.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Tll get the check,’ murmured Topaz, jumping up and turning to the counter to pay. She almost ran down the sirs and out of the door, waiting for him. She needed to get him out of the crowded restaurant.

Rosen emerged on to the sidewalk two seconds later, grabbed her by the shoulders and backed her up against the wall.

Then he kissed her, his body stretched along hers, the hard weight of him pushing against her right there on the street, so her soft breasts were crushed into his chest and she could feel his erection.

Nathan softly prised her mouth open and ran the tip of his

tongue along the underside of her top lip.

Topaz moaned.

He pulled away from her and stared into her eyes, wild

and surprised and aroused and scared. ‘Topaz Rossi,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘I’m going to fuck your brains out.’

r

H

Topaz sat rigid in the cab in the darkness, trying not to betray herself in front of the driver. Nathan had his left hand, hidden by her coat, in her panties, and was stroking her very gently with two fingers, relentlessly, back and forwards.

‘We’ll go to the American Magazines tower on Seventh, please,’ he said casually. ‘I got a little unfinished business at the office.’

The two of them walked into the marble lobby, Nathan supporting Topaz while he collected his keys. Once the elevator door had shut he ran his hands all over her, barely able to restrain himself. Topaz was faint with desire. She was burning for him over her whole skin, her entire body ensitized to his touch. He put both his palms on the insides of her thighs, caressing her, tantalizingly close to her ass and her pussy but never quite touching them.

‘Please, Nathan,’ she gasped, ‘please … ‘

For ansffer he led her out of the elevator and across the deserted Westside office. Barely able to walk, Topaz stumbled after him.

Nathan opened his office but didn’t bother flicking on the lights; the dull neon glow of New York at night was more than enough to see by. He looked round the room at his Eames chair and his files and his silent computer. Then he looked at Rossi, leaning against the door for support, squirming with longing for him. Rosen stared at her for a second, mesmerized by her; the flawless young skin, her lips wet and parted, the blue eyes liquid with desire.

Jesus Christ, she’s every man’s fantasy, Nathan thought, overwhelmed with lust. His cock was so hard he was starting to ache. He felt half frightened to touch her, unsure

what she could do to him, where this would take him. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do this. She’d shown him what she wanted. He wondered who was seducing who.

‘That’s a nice dress,’ he said. hoarsely, ‘but it’d look a lot better in a crumpled heap on the floor. Take your clothes off.’

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Topaz stripped, her fingers fumbling from her heat. She saw Nathan Rosen gazing at her, transfixed. A new flush of sex rippled through her - look what she could do to him, look at the way he was staring. She unhooked her bra deliberately, delicately, letting him see the wisps of chocolate-coloured lace brush against her erect nipples, shrugging the tiny silk panties slowly offher thighs.

‘Well?’ Topaz asked insolently. She pirouetted for him, displaying herself, taunting him.

Rosen could hardly believe her Body. His cock reared in his pants. ‘Come here,’ he breathed.

Topaz crossed the room and reached for him, sliding her hand across his fly, feeling the hardness of him through the denim. Nathan’s rough hands gripped her shoulders, moving over the sleek skin, the lressure betraying his

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mpatience. She reached for the buttons of his Levi’s and undid them, slipping her hand over him, hard as flint, hot against her palm, and opened and closed her fingers around him in a smooth, fluttering movement, feeling him pulse under her touch, his breath catching in his throat.

Rosen moaned, harshly, utterly unable to control himself a’second longer. He caressed her, squeezing her ass and stroking her firm full breasts with their exquisite swollen nipples, before turning her gently round and pushing her down over the desk.

A second later she felt him slide into her, in and out, in and out, and all her pent-up desire crystallized into a huge block and she looked round and saw Nathan behind her and above her, smiling, fucking her slowly, and she felt the sweet pressure spread out across her body and she started to come, feeling it in her fingers and toes, and her whole skin, convulsing in orgasm …

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Rowena Gordon leant back against the soft fabric of her seat as the plane dipped sharply in the sky, veering in to the landing approach. She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the Manhattan skyline spread out below her, full of threats and promises. At this very moment, a cab assigned to her would be pulling up atJFK. Waiting to take her to Mirror, Mirror, the famous, luxurious and totally exclusive New York studios. Nicknamed .the ‘Dream Factory’. Where good bands went to become great ones. Where stars went to become multi-platinum supernovas. Where a kind of weird magic descended on the recording of just a handful of albums each year, turning them into volcanic eruptions of sound that could blow you away even on a tinny home stereo. Magic that transformed your bedroom into Madison Square Gardens. That gave drums a wild kick, guitars a glittering distortion, vocals a savage precision, and shot your record to the top of the charts and the cover of Rolling Stone.

Because Mirror, Mirror was the studio where Michael Krebs recorded.

And Michael Krebs was the bes.t producer in the world. And Rowena had to have him.

At first she’d just been dreaming out loud. Things were going so well, after all:Josh had signed Atomic Mass, she’d got a big promotion and pay rise - and a nice new flat in Earl’s Court, thank God-and the band were media darlings of the week. Their small shows became bigger shows. The bigger shows sold out. No less than five major acts offered them the support slot on their tours. And in the middle ofali

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the excitement, the boys were keeping their heads screwed on and writing some incredible songs …

So Rowena had joked to Josh Oberman that they should get Michael Krebs to produce. Yeah, right. The legendary Michael Krebs. Who only ever worked with superstar bands, who was probably booked for a decade upfront, and who’d expect a couple of million dollars for his services alone.

Of course, a multi-platinum record can make six or seven million. So for a huge act, it wasn’tunreasonable.

But Atomic Mass were a tiny new band, freshly signed, with not even a single to their name. And Rowena’s budget

was I00,000.

So it was a joke.

Christ Almighty, what am I doing here? she thought,

‘ smoothing her long blonde hair into a ponytail and trying to look cool, as though she flew Business Class to New York all the time. What am I going to say to him? A hundred and fifty thousand dollars? He’ll laugh in my face. I’ll probably crack a rib when his security’goons throw me out on the pavement.

But that was Joshua Oberman for you! When the old guy

liked an idea, he really liked an idea.

‘You think Krebs should produce Atomic Mass?’ he’d asked

his prot4g4e.

‘Oh, sure,’ Rowena grinned. She patted her demo tapes

like a proud mother. ‘They’re the best band around, they should have the best producer. And just as soon as I’ve saved up a spare million, we’ll hire him for them.’

Oberman got up and padded around the soft carpet of his office, like a twitchy leopard.

‘I know Michael from way back when,’ he said suddenly.

‘Gave him his first job when I was working.for Elektra. In seventy-four. He’ll see you if I ask him to.’

‘Josh, you can’t be serious,’ Rowena protested. ‘He’d cost

more than ten times our.budget for the whole thing!’

‘We could go to a hundred and fifty thousand.dollars,’

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‘No buts,’ Oberman insisted. ‘You fly to New York and meet with him. Take a demo. If he likes the stuff, he might do it for that money. Starting a band from scratch could appeal to Michael. He’s a risk-taker, I’ll have him send a cab to bring you to the studio, and I’ll let you take it from there.’

‘Boss, you are out of your mind. This will never work in a million years.’

Oberman lookedacross at her, with a strange expression. ‘Atomic Mass are your band, Rowena,’ he’d said. ‘Make it work. ‘

‘Can I take your champagne glass, ma’am?’ asked a handsome steward in a gentle American accent. ‘We’ll be coming in to land in just a few moments.’

‘Thank you,’ Rowena said, startled out of her thoughts. God, she’was really doing this! Coming to New York for the first time. Trying to pull offa deal with a superproducer. In person. By herself.

There it was, look! The Statue of Liberty!

‘Oh God,’ said Rowena out loud.

She had never felt so nervous in her life.

‘What kind of business?’ the customs officer asked pleasantly. Not that he gave a damn. The girl was obviously not a drugs smuggler, criminal or illegal immigrant, but as long as he could ask her questions he could enjoy the sight of her long, slender legs in those tight pants, the gentle swell of her breasts under the clinging Lycra body, her tumbling blonde hair, her almost obscenely sexy lips, soft, plump, with a slight natural pout that belied the businesslike jacket and smart briefcase.

‘I have a meeting,’ she replied, in crisp English tones. The officer brightened even more. What a babe. She sounded like Princess Diana, all haughty and impatient. Made him want to warm her up.

‘With who?’

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‘With a producer.’

‘Oh,’ he said, glancing at her slyly. ‘An actress, huh?’

Rowcna shook her head, smiling. ‘Not that kind of producer.’

‘Well, welcome to the United States,’ the guy said, sighiug. Back to the grind. Fat tourists and screaming kids. Terrific …

Rowena, glad to have it over with, pushed her trolley through into the arrivals hall, praying that the Mirror cab hadn’t given up on her and driven back. This was impossible enough without her annoying Michael Krcbs. She peered through the throng of relatives, company reps and minicab drivers, jostling against the barricr with their little cardboard signs. Nothing. She checked again. Definitely no