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"Secretaries?" Miriam looked from Wendy to Diane. Wendy wore a backless bright blue
pants suit, the sides cut so sharply that half her bosom was visible from behind. Diane was in a
black body suit and jeans, her braless breasts pressing 'against the thin material.
"No wonder you're so eager to go to work every day," Miriam complained. Kevin responded
with a wicked smile.
But there were good-looking women everywhere, flanked by men dressed in sports jackets
and suits. It had the look of an opulent affair waiters in white jackets and black tie;
waitresses in black skirts and white blouses moving through the room, carrying trays of
delicious-looking hot hors d'oeuvres, cocktails, glasses of champagne.
Diane leaned back on the couch, and two men began feeding her grapes, teasing her and then
touching her lips, until she took one man's fingers into her mouth along with the grape. Just
then Kevin heard a peal of feminine laughter to his left and turned to see men and women
dancing so closely, they looked like they were in the throes of sexual ecstasy. In the center of the
large room, a buxom redhead, barefoot and wearing something that looked more like a slip,
seemed to float to the bar. Even women looked at her appreciatively. In the brighter light, the
redhead's bosom was completely revealed. She might as well have gone topless, Kevin thought. She
joined two men at the bar who drew close to her as if she were a magnet and they were made of
iron.
Kevin began to feel he and Miriam had entered a modern-day Roman orgy. He was fascinated, titil-
lated, and amused. No wonder the associates were so excited about attending another party in the
penthouse.
In the background, close to the windows, stood Mr. Milton and the associates, each holding a glass of
champagne. Mr. Milton was wearing what looked to be a scarlet smoking jacket and a pair of
matching slacks. As soon as he saw Kevin and Miriam in the open elevator, he said something to
Paul Scholefield. Paul nodded at the disc jockey working the turntable, and the music was stopped.
Everyone quieted down. Mr. Milton stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present our
newest associate and his wife, Kevin and Miriam Taylor."
The gathering broke into applause. Kevin looked at Miriam and saw she was beaming. Her eyes
sparkled with excitement. He couldn't remember her looking more radiant, her natural look
burning through the makeup. She squeezed his hand in hers.
"Thank you," Kevin said, nodding from left to right. Mr. Milton proceeded toward them, and
the music continued. Everyone went back to what he or she was doing. Miriam looked about
for Norma and Jean and saw them waving at her from the other side of the dance floor. About
halfway across the room, on the left side, Helen Scholefield sat complacently, staring out at
the gathering, a goblet of white wine in her hand. She sat so still, she looked like one of the
alabaster statues.
"Welcome," Mr. Milton said.
"Miriam, may I present Mr. Milton," Kevin said. John Milton took Miriam's extended hand
into his right hand and then placed his left over it. He smiled.
"They told me you were a very attractive woman, Miriam. I can see that was a gross
understatement."
Miriam blushed. "Thank you. I don't have to tell you that I feel I know you already. Everyone
I meet talks so much about you."
"All good, I hope." He pretended to scowl at Kevin.
"Nothing you could even question," Kevin said, raising his right hand. John Milton laughed.
"Let me get you two something to drink and then introduce you to some of my guests. And,
not long after that," he said, still holding Miriam's hand, "we'll see if we can talk Miriam into
playing the piano for us."
"Oh no. They told you." She shot a chastising look toward Norma and Jean, who were both
watching and smiling widely.
"They didn't have to. I knew. Your reputation preceded you," he added quickly, and Miriam
laughed.
"I think I'm going to need that drink," she said. Kevin laughed, and the three of them started
across the room, stopping by a waiter so that John Milton could get them a cocktail before
proceeding with introductions.
Kevin was impressed with the variety of professionals attending Mr. Milton's party. There were
lawyers from other firms, many of which Kevin had heard of or remembered from his college days
when the law students would discuss ideal places to work. He and Miriam were introduced to
two doctors, both heart specialists. He recognized a rather famous Broadway actor, known for his
character roles. They met a well-known New York Post columnist and were eventually introduced to
Bob McKensie, an assistant district attorney.
"Bob likes to visit the enemy camp once in a while," Mr. Milton joked, and then added in a mock-
serious tone, "especially when we have a new star."
"I'm not a star yet," Kevin said and shook McKensie's long hand. To Kevin, McKensie looked
Lincolnesque, standing at least six feet five, lanky but firm, something he could tell from the man's
grip. McKensie had a narrow, dark face with deep, sad eyes and sharply cut features.
"Trouble is," McKensie said, "everyone who works for John Milton becomes a star sooner or later.
Which makes work for the prosecutor's office that much harder."
John Milton laughed. "Listen, Bob," he said, "we don't make your job harder; we make you strive
to be the best you can be. You should be thanking us."
"Listen to that logic," McKensie said, shaking his head. "See why he and all his associates are so
formidable in court? Nice to meet you, Kevin. I understand you're going to handle the
Rothberg case."
"Yes."
"As they say, see you in court." McKensie nodded to Miriam and went off to talk to other people.
"Rather serious fellow," Kevin said. "Doesn't he ever smile?"
"Hasn't got all that much to smile about these days," Mr. Milton replied, his eyes twinkling.
"Now let me show you the rest of the penthouse." John Milton took Miriam's arm. He led them
to the left, where the doorway opened to a corridor, off of which were three guest bedrooms, a
study, three bathrooms, and John Milton's bedroom.
All the rooms were large. The bathrooms were tiled and plush, each with its own whirlpool, just
as the associates had described.
"I don't like this railroad car arrangement," John Milton said as they walked down the corridor,
"but I didn't feel like ripping everything out to start all over."
"Oh, it's beautiful!" Miriam exclaimed, especially when they stopped at one of the bathrooms.
John Milton gazed at her a moment and then winked at Kevin. "Later, if you want, feel free to use
a whirlpool. It's first come, first served."
When they reached John Milton's bedroom and looked in, Kevin understood why Paul and the
others talked about the luxury and hedonism of the penthouse. The heavy oak bed at the center
of the room was enormous. The mattress, box spring, and bedding all had to be custom-made. It [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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