She felt a special fondness for Lake Tahoe, though. After the frenzied pace and atmosphere of Las Vegas she yearned for the mountains and the calming effect of the tall trees and the clear blue lake. She thought of Lake Tahoe as a kind of vacation place, a refuge.

True, there was gambling there and all that went with the rolling of the dice, the turning of the cards and the clank of slot machines, but the tempo of life there seemed more leisurely. Also, according to Gil, there was a good chance that her weekly salary would increase there. An increase in salary was not so much a monetary thing as it was a badge. Money was nice, of course, but entertainers seem to rank themselves according to the money they earn. It was an indication of success and, therefore, ten-thousand-dollar-a-week acts were more successful than, say, eight-thousand-dollar-a-week acts. This was an obvious fact, but nevertheless prestige seemed to count for more than the salaries themselves. At least for Sherry.

The thought of salary increase reminded her of Gil's remark. "Do you really think we'll start earning more in Tahoe?" she asked.

Victor Redgrave shrugged and glanced at his watch. "It isn't certain," he said. "Gil was supposed to give Greg Jennings a call at Tahoe this afternoon about revising the contract, but at the moment he's upstairs fucking that cocktail girl. I guess we'll just have to wait until he's finished taking his pleasure with that little tramp."

"I wonder what they're doing right now," Sherry said, trying to visualize them. "Don't you wish you could see whether they're fucking or sucking right this minute?"

Victor grimaced, shaking his head. "Gil isn't exactly a Don Juan. They probably consummated the act two minutes after they entered his room. Either that or he's having difficulty trying to get his drunken pecker up without success?"

Sherry giggled. "Or maybe he's making one of his phony promises about hiring her as his traveling secretary."