ROBBINS Harold - The Carpetbaggers

The expression on Rina's face as she opened the boxes was all that Margaret had hoped for. Rina put on a stark black cocktail gown that clung to her figure, revealing her naked shoulders. As they walked into the dining salon, an hour later, every male eye followed them.

Possessively Margaret reached across the table and patted Rina's hand. "You look lovely, my dear."

Margaret put down the towel and turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror. Pleased with her reflection, she ran her hands down along her sides, then stretched luxuriously. Her small breasts with their tiny nipples were no larger than many men's, and her hips were flat and her legs straight.

She slipped into the silk pajamas, quickly buttoning the fly front of the long, man-tailored trousers, then fastening the tightly fitting bolero jacket. She brushed her dark hair straight back and pinned it. Once more, she glanced at the mirror. At a quick glance, few could tell her from a male.

Pleased, she left the bathroom and entered the stateroom. "You can go in now, Rina."

Rina stared at her in amazement. "Miss Bradley – Peggy, I mean – those pajamas!"

Margaret smiled at her. "Like them?"

Rina nodded.

Margaret was pleased. "They're made of genuine Chinese brocade. A friend sent me the material from San Francisco. I designed them myself." One thing she could always say for Sally – she had good taste. Of all the things she had ever given her, these pajamas were her favorite.

Rina got out of her chair and took a cotton nightgown from the bureau. She started for the bathroom.

"Wait a minute," Margaret said. She went to her bureau and took out a small box. "While I was at it," she said, "I also bought you a few nightgowns."

She watched Rina's face as she opened the box. "They're real silk!"

"I was afraid that all you had were those horrible school shifts."

Rina looked down at the box. "There's a different color for every night in the week," she said. "They're all so beautiful, I don't know which to wear first."

Margaret smiled again. "Why don't you wear the white one tonight?"

"O.K.," Rina said. She picked it up and started again for the bathroom. She stopped at the door. "I don't know how to thank you, Peggy," she said gratefully. "You make everything seem so wonderful."

Margaret laughed happily. "That's just the way I want it to be for you," she said. She looked at Rina as if the idea had just come to her. "What do you say we celebrate tonight? While you're changing, I’ll order a bottle of champagne. We'll have a little party all by ourselves."

"That would be fun." Rina smiled. "I always wanted to drink champagne but Father would never let me."

"Well, this will be a secret between us." Margaret laughed, reaching for the telephone. "I promise I won't tell him."

Rina put down her glass and began to giggle.

Margaret leaned back in her chair, still holding hers by its fragile stem. "What's funny?"

"My nightgown crinkles and gives off tiny sparks when I move."

"That's static electricity," Margaret said. "Silk is a very good conductor."

"I know," Rina answered quickly. "I remember that from your class." She ran her hand down along the gown. "It gives off tiny blue sparks. Can you see them?"

"No."

Rina leaped to her feet. "I'll turn off the lights," she said. "You'll be able to see them then."

She turned off the lights and stood in front of Margaret. "Watch," she said. She ran her hands down the sides of her gown. There was a faint crackling and tiny sparks appeared at her fingertips. Rina picked up her glass and emptied it. She held the glass toward Margaret. "May I have some more, Peggy?"

"Of course," Margaret answered, refilling her glass.

Rina held it to her lips and sipped. "Champagne is nothing but pop made from wine," she said seriously. "But it tastes better. It's not as sweet."

"It's getting warmer in here, don't you think?"

"It is getting warmer," Rina answered. "Do you want me to turn on the fan?"

"Oh, no," Margaret said quickly. "We'd only catch cold in the draft. I’ll just slip off my jacket."

She felt Rina's eyes on her small bosom and she picked up her glass quickly. "Do you mind?"

Rina shook her head. She lifted her glass and took another sip. "Do you hear music?"

Margaret nodded. "It's the orchestra from the ballroom. They're playing a waltz."

Rina got to her feet. She swayed in time to the music. "I love to dance," she said. She glided lightly around the room, the white gown flaring out as she turned, showing her long, tanned legs.

Margaret felt a weakness in the pit of her stomach as she got to her feet. "I love to dance, too," she said, making a mock bow. "May I have this dance, Miss Marlowe?"

Rina looked at her, smiling. "Just this one. All the others are taken, Miss Bradley."

Margaret shook a reproachful finger at Rina. "Mr. Bradley, if you please."

Rina laughed. "Of course. Just this one, Mr. Bradley."

Margaret put her arm around Rina's waist. They both laughed as the tiny blue sparks crackled from Rina's gown. Margaret felt her legs tremble as the warmth from Rina's breasts came through the gown. Holding the young girl firmly, she led her into the dance. They spun furiously in a circle as the music reached a crescendo, then abruptly halted.

Rina looked up into her face. Margaret smiled at her. "We'd better have some more champagne." She poured Rina a glass and picked up her own. "You're a very good dancer, Rina."

"Thank you. You lead better than any of the boys that ever came to the school dances. You do everything so well." Rina swayed slightly. "The dancing made me dizzy."

"Perhaps you'd better lie down on your bed for a moment."

Rina shook her head. "And break up our party?"

"Lie down for a minute. You won't break up the party. I'll come and sit on the bed."

"O.K.," Rina said. She walked over to the bed and put her glass on the night table, then stretched out on the white sheet.

Margaret sat down beside her. "Feel better?"

"The room is still spinning," Rina said.

Margaret bent over her and stroked her forehead lightly. "Close your eyes for a moment."

Obediently Rina closed her eyes. They were silent for a moment while Margaret continued to stroke her forehead. "That's better," Rina said softly. "The spinning has gone."

Margaret didn't answer, but kept stroking her head lightly. Rina opened her eyes and looked at her. Margaret reached for her glass. "A little more champagne?"

Rina nodded. She sipped and handed it back to Margaret, who smiled at her, then put the glass down.

"I'm glad we're going to Europe together," Rina said suddenly. "I've never really had a close girl friend before. The girls at school always seemed such ninnies to me. Always talking about boys."

"They're nothing but silly children, most of them," Margaret said. "That's why I liked you the moment you came into my room that night. I knew you were different, more mature."

"Ever since Laddie died, I couldn't stand boys," Rina said.

"Laddie?"

"My brother," Rina explained. "He and my father are the only two men that I ever really liked."

"He must have been very nice," Margaret said.

"He was." Rina turned her head away. "I think I was in love with him."

"That's nothing," Margaret said quickly. "All girls love their brothers."

"He really wasn't my brother, you know. I was adopted."

"How do you know you loved him?" Margaret asked, faint jealousy stirring within her.

"I know," Rina answered. "And I think he loved me, too."

"You do?" Margaret asked, the jealousy stronger. "Did he- did you?"

Rina looked away. "I never spoke to anyone about it before."

"You can talk to me," Margaret said. "I’m your friend. We have no secrets between us."