"About how long would the job last?" she asked.

"Hard to tell. We'll say a six-month guarantee. But that will depend on what happens in the next half-hour or so, right?"

"Are you going to inspect my teeth and vaccinations to see if I'm a sound animal? Check for blemishes, scars?"

"I'm no veterinarian," Gil said. "I'm going to inspect your cunt. Think of me as a gynecologist," he laughed.

She wasn't laughing. "How much would the job pay?"

Gil pursed his lips. "Say, two hundred a week – plus fringe benefits."

"I make that already," Connie said. "In Vegas, cocktail girls make good tips."

"Okay, make it two-fifty," he said.

Connie gulped her drink down, set it on the table and stood up. Her ass swinging, she went to the door, put her hand on the doorknob and faced Gil Turner. "You're really funny, Gil," she said. "No hard feelings, but an offer like that is insulting. When a man earns ten percent of all the big acts you handle an offer like that is truly degrading. If you'd just wanted to make love now this afternoon you should have said so. I'm normal, I assure you. I dig sex and lots of it. But now, somehow the whole thing has turned me of. So long," she said, turning the knob.

Instantly, Gil sprang from the bed and raced across the room. He held her firmly about her bare waist. "Look, I am lonely and I do want you. Please. I'm not as tough as I seem. When I mentioned fringe benefits I meant the whole shot – nice times together, a car to drive, clothes. Stay with me for three-hundred a week for six months. Please?"

Connie's face softened. She draped her arms about his slightly sunburned shoulders, pushed her pelvis hard at his and pressed her open mouth to his. Finally, she smiled coquettishly at him and said, "Let's fuck first and see. You don't want to regret making a sexual contract with someone who isn't satisfactory, right? It's all in the fucking. I think you should try me out and then see how you feel. Think of it as a free trial. Absolutely no obligation, all right?"