PART ONE
With the Debbie Reynolds match only two days away, Mitzi and Ethel are "on the outs." While Ethel lives it up in NYC with a new lover and starring in a play on Broadway, Cyd is riding Mitzi (and Nikki) hard. Mitzi's so down in the dumps she's not training very hard but she’s eating and drinking way too much; trying to 'drown her sorrow.' Nikki, to avoid Cyd's constant harping, has been spending more time with Gretchen and her nieces. It keeps Nikki out of Cyd's line of fire, but leaves Mitzi feeling more isolated and alone than ever!
Gretchen has used her pull with Frank to get Nikki hired to do some investigative work for the league - for which Nikki is very appreciative since she's perennially broke and her 'detective agency' isn't bringing in enough money to pay the rent on even the run-down flat she subleases from a temp agency.
Mitzi doesn't know where (or to whom) to turn with Ethel out of town and Nikki preoccupied. Cyd has been unwilling to climb into Mitzi's bed to relieve her growing sexual frustration and Gretchen is too busy with Nikki - while doubtless plotting Mitzi’s downfall to pay her much attention!
* * * *
Mitzi turned slowly in front of her full length mirror; studying her nude, 25 year old body with a critical eye, cupped her full breasts as her thumbs flicked her hard nipples. She sighed as her hands glided down over flawlessly smooth flesh, over the roundness of her belly to comb the full, lush, bush between her parted legs. She squeezed her thighs and briefly dipped her middle finger in her moist pussy; her body shivering with excitement; her lidded eyes fluttering closed as she slowly withdrew her finger and tasted the moistness with the tip of her tongue. She gave another long, breast jiggling, sigh as a warm blush crept over her cherubic face.
"Damn you Ethel!" she muttered as she turned to look back over her shoulder at her firm, full, butt. "I need you here!"
Mitzi was getting dressed for a mysterious ‘date.’ The day before, in a phone call, Alfred Hitchcock had told her he wanted to talk to her about an up-coming picture, but warned her not to mention the meeting to anyone, or even say she was meeting someone. That afternoon, a messenger had arrived with her 'costume' for the evening - a box that held everything from underwear to shoes. There was a note, reminding not to tell anyone where she was going or who she was meeting. “Like the audience, I want to see my leading ladies dressed up so wear these clothes and only these clothes. Omit nothing; add nothing." It ended with an address on Figuroa Street, and the instruction: "Sit at the bar. You'll be contacted."
Mitzi was wary of a neighborhood that had gone steadily downhill since WWII, but she trusted Hitchcock and followed his instructions to the letter. She’d hung the white strapless dress in her closet as soon as she opened the box that afternoon and it was unwrinkled. She laid out her undergarments on the bed, then started to dress, starting with panties, then the garter belt and stockings, finally the strapless bra. She struggled with the bra, having to hold her breath to fasten the clasp as it was a full size too small for her. Her breasts swelled up over the half cups, and she worried they would fall out entirely if she took a deep breath. Still, her instructions had been specific and she dared not risk changing it for a better fit. After slipping the dress overhead and zipping it up the back, she slipped on her heels and pirouetted in front of the mirror one final time. She picked up the tiny clutch bag he’d provided, put in $20 and the key to Ethel's house where she, Cyd and Nikki were living as she completed her training, then tip-toed downstairs, hoping to slip out the door before Cyd noticed - but no such luck!
"Where are you off to?" Cyd snapped gruffly, stepping out of the kitchen holding a glass of Scotch, her usual bedtime libation. "You've got to get your road work in early tomorrow before your final workout."
As usual in the evening, Cyd wore only a short silk robe that stopped mid-thigh on her dancer-firm legs. Mitzi knew all too well she was nude beneath it - she'd noticed too many times in the year they'd shared living quarters; almost as if Cyd deliberately taunted she and Nikki with her sexuality - while denying them their own pleasure at every turn.
"I'm meeting Nikki," Mitzi lied. "We're having a drink and a couple of dances at a new club downtown. I'll be home before midnight. This is our last chance before the fight, I've gotta let off some steam."
Cyd cocked her head and Mitzi held her breath, fearing Cyd would deny her 'request.' Finally, after what seemed forever, she shrugged turned back toward the kitchen. "Before midnight," Cyd grumbled. "Or I'll take it out on that cute ass in the gym."
Mitzi hurried down the steps into the street where the taxi she'd called was just pulling up. She hopped in, gave the driver the address and leaned back with an audible sigh of relief. Her audition with Alfred Hitchcock was going to happen!
******
Almost before Mitzi's taxi had rounded the corner, the phone in Ethel's front hall rang. Cyd picked it up and Nikki asked to speak to Mitzi! Cyd snarled, "She just left to meet you not more than a minute ago." She heard a gasp followed by a long silence.
With a catch in her voice, Nikki said, "To meet ME!? We weren't going out. If she's not there with YOU, where IS she?"
Cyd chuckled. "Well, she strutted out the front door dressed to the nines in a floor length white dress slit up to THERE! It was so tight you could see the outline of her garter belt through it. I don't know what game she's playing, honeybuns, but she was very definitely dressed to impress SOMEONE!"
Cyd tried not to laugh as Nikki pleaded, "Tell me where she went, please. I've got to know what's going on."
"Well," Cyd said dismissively, "IF you spent your time helping her get ready to fight Reynolds instead of sulking over there with your face in Gretchen Curry's pussy, maybe she wouldn't be stepping out on you! Did THAT ever occur to you? And don't call again! I’m going to bed and I don't want to be disturbed. You want to know who she's seeing behind your back, I suggest you come to the gym tomorrow morning and ask HER!"
Cyd slammed the phone down, drained her Scotch in a single gulp, then with a smug, self-satisfied smirk, flounced upstairs and threw herself on her bed. As she turned off the light and pulled the covers up to her chin, she hoped whoever Mitzi was with was worth the problems she was going to have with her lover Nikki and Cyd couldn't wait to see the fireworks. She dozed off dreaming of Mitzi and Nikki screaming at one another the way children dream of gift wrapped presents and sugar plums at Christmas time.
******
Mitzi huddled nervously in the back seat of the taxi as it made its way to a run-down section of 'Century City', an area that had been home to many 'B-movie' studios before the war but had since fallen on hard times. The taxi stopped at the address Mitzi had given; a dingy, run-down bar that looked as if - even in its heyday - it had never lived up to its pretension of mediocrity. Mitzi looked at the number above the door, then down at the note in her hand and sighed. It was the right place, but she couldn't imagine why a famous director like Alfred Hitchcock wanted to meet her in this DIVE!
She paid the driver, considered asking him to wait - just in case, then decided it may violate her instructions. She slammed the door and the driver took off like a shot, apparently eager to get out of the seedy neighborhood! Mitzi straightened her dress, ran her hands over her butt to smooth the wrinkles, took a deep breath - that almost thrust her tightly bound breasts up and out of the low-cut gown - then opened the door and strode inside.
The inside looked much as expected from the drab exterior, right down to sawdust on the floor which forced her to take small, mincing, steps as she tip-toed carefully to the bar. There were only two customers; a man in a dark suit at the table near the door with a fedora pulled low over his face and a shabbily attired working class fellow at the far end of the bar. The working man had been chatting with the bartender until Mitzi came in, but every eye turned to watch as she slinked to the bar, then daintily slid her beautiful, heart-shaped, butt up onto a stool. The bartender left his customer, grabbed a towel and hurried to Mitzi, making a big production out of wiping the bar in front of her.
"What'll it be little lady?" he asked, giving her the once over with undisguised lust.
"I'd like a Gibson," Mitzi said, unable to hide her discomfort as she avoided his eyes and swiveled her stool to gaze around the room, hoping to see the hulking figure of Alfred Hitchcock magically appear. She was disappointed.
The bartender chuckled. "What the hell's a 'Gibson'? Where waddaya think this is, the Hollywood Roosevelt?"
"A Gibson…" Mitzi explained haughtily, "…is a martini with an onion, not an olive. Surely you can make martini’s?"
"We got beer and we got liquor I mix with soda or water. This is a neighborhood bar, not a fancy lounge! What'll it be toots?"
Mitzi sighed and shrugged, "Well, do you have gin?"
"Yeah."
"Then gimme a double, one ice cube...you do have ice, don’tcha?" she sneered cheekily.
The bartender swept up a tall glass and, on the way to the rack of bottles, tossed a single ice cube in the air and caught it in the glass. He set the glass in front of her, spun around with the bottle and with a flourish, poured a generous dollop of clear liquid into her glass. "Anything else?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar and stare into her cleavage.
She tried to sit as erect as possible on the stool and shook her head. "Thanks, but that'll be all for the moment."
"Two bucks," he grunted when his view of her magnificent breasts was cruelly taken away.
"Put it on my tab," Mitzi said. "I'm expecting a gentleman to join me any moment."
"Sorry toots," he sneered. "Cash up front. We don't get many high class workin' gals in here, but I expect you got two bucks on you somewhere. If not, we can work out an 'arrangement' to cover the drink." Mitzi shivered and dug into her tiny clutch bag for the change from the twenty she'd used to pay for the cab.
As she laid a five on the bar, the bartender offered, "Say, when your 'gentleman' comes in, wamme to water yours down? I'll split the take with you? An if ya wanna rent a room, I got one in the back where I can throw a mattress on the floor. It's halfway clean, private and available by the half hour...cheap!"
Mitzi's cheeks flushed as she finally realized what kind of a ‘girl’ he had mistaken her for. Hitchcock had been right, she wasn't recognized in this part of town - obviously. Instead of answering, she pointed to the five and snapped curtly, "Take the drink out of that...and bring back ALL the change!"
The bartender's eyes flashed angrily. He snatched up the bill and stalked back to the register. He'd had just rung it up when the door opened and all heads turned again - then everyone's jaw dropped, including Mitzi’s! The brunette who walked in was every bit as beautiful - and just as well dressed - as Mitzi! Her dress was black where Mitzi's was white, but every other part of their ensemble was a mirror image of the other. Mitzi couldn't imagine why Kim Novak would be in this part of town - in a near identical dress to hers - unless it had something to do with Alfred Hitchcock!
this is all that'll fit, go here for the rest of the story:
http://www.stonecatfights.com/kimgin/bedtime/mitzi025.html
