Chapter 5
"Sorry, Howard, but I can't let cha see the tapes."
"The hell you talkin' about, Harry? I'm loggin' 'em back in as a valid seizure and I wanna check 'em out."
"New procedure on tapes, Howard. Just come down from your boss's office.
"You wanna see 'em, you gotta requisition 'em from the chief investigator himself. State Attorney's orders, pal, nothin' I can do about it.
"Seems the two o'clock matinees around here have been gettin' outta hand."
"Who complained?"
Harry shrugs, replying, "Nobody wearin' trousers, that's fer sure."
"Okay, I guess. From here on out, any tape seizures'll hafta be looked at before they're logged with you, I guess."
"Wrong again, Howard. They'll be logged in with me, logged out to the chief investigator, requisitioned back from him with a full explanation and a roster of the intended viewing audience.
"Memo's on your desk."
"Thanks, Harry. For nothing, that is."
"Hey, what the hell did joo guys expect, treatin' this place like your own peep show?
"Sooner or later, it was bound t'catch up wit'chas, an' later just got t'be sooner, is all. This by you is a problem?"
"Guess not."
"They're havin' a meeting, all lawyers, all investigators on this very thing."
"When?"
"In about," looking at his watch, "twenny minutes, I'd say. Stick around the office once in a while, an' you'd know what's goin' on-'ey!"
"Missin' some tapes here!"
"Released back to the owner."
"Then where's the receipt?"
"They're ... being processed for final release to him."
"The tapes, or the receipt," Harry sighs.
"Before you go home, arright, Harry?"
"You tell me, after you come outta the meeting." Delaney goes to his desk.
"All this in less than a day?" he says, incredulous. "What is this, some kinda sick joke?"
"Sorry, Howard," his secretary-the one he shares with the three other lawyers assigned to the Sexual Battery Unit-says. "Ev'rybody's got a buncha new cases. I just sort of dealt them out like a deck of cards."
"Sounds fair t'me," Delaney sighs, starting to go through his correspondence before tackling the new cases.
"Oh here, before I forget," he says, pulling a folder out of his briefcase, "this case is-never mind."
And he slides the folder back into his briefcase.
Because if he closes the file, he will never again get to see those tapes, and after what Murray told him about them, he is really curious.
How wild and crazy did the teenyboppers get before even Murray was grossed out? We have got to be talking super raw here, he tells himself.
"You got a meeting in the conference room, formerly known as the Sex Cinema," the secretary reminds him, adding, "Don't look at me, Howard. I'm not the one who spoiled you guys' fun; I think it was your fellow advocate of the people next cubicle over.
"She's resigning, effective next month, y'know."
"No farewell party for her, then, Miss Sitwell; make a note."
They laugh, but then she turns serious, saying, "There could very well be another farewell party around here, even before she leaves."
"Waddaya mean?"
"Go to the meeting and find out."
"Morning, ladies and gentlemen. I am Raymond J. Fargo, Chief Investigator, Office of the State Attorney, for those of you who don't know me.
"The chief of this unit is on leave of absence, pending an investigation by me of certain improprieties within the unit, specifically as alleged by one who should know, in regard to the viewing of pornographic tapes, on that very set-up."
And he points to the offending large screen TV with its VCR crown.
"The party is over, people.
"From here on out, these tapes are to be treated for what they are-evidence.
"They pertain to a case and are the property of their rightful owners, pending disposition of the case. Upon disposition, the tapes are to be returned or destroyed, whatever the nature of that disposition.
"This is the big city and not podunk, just to review the local law.
"An adult may create, buy, sell and view such material, whether privately or commercially.
"At no point in time is anyone under the age of eighteen to have any connection with any activity involving such material.
"In addition, certain acts are deemed obscene, even here in our permissive society.
"You know which ones they are, or you wouldn't be here now-just as you know the other laws with respect to them.
"I will have an impound area in the property room, exclusively for this material. All requests to view same must come across my desk. No exceptions, no discussion. That's just the way it is.
"You will be notified in due course of the results of my investigation of this unit. I can assure you, the governor-I thought that would get your attention-the governor doesn't take this matter lightly.
"If I'm making it sound as if this unit is under a cloud, that's because it darn well is. It's my job to make it go away, and I can't do that by sweeping it under the rug, because it makes too big a lump.
"Any questions?"
Howard raises his hand.
"I have twenty-five tapes under review, off premises."
"Excellent place for 'em. My problem-I should say our problem-is specifically what's happening on premises.
"Anything else?"
"What if a situation should arise-"
"I'm not gonna get into contingency with you people. You know why I'm here. Where common sense won't serve, you know where to find me.
"Innocent until proven guilty applies here, same as it does throughout the system, so I don't need to hear a bunch of denials. Naturally, if anybody has an overwhelming urge to get anything off their chest, I'm available.
"Don't all come in from the cold at once.
"Okay, that's all I have to say."
"Think they're gonna put the blocks t'the chief?" Lenny asks Howard on the way out.
Howard regards him coldly, replying, "Not if they can find you, Lenny."
"Okay, okay, f'git I axed ya. Geez, ev'rybody's got their fuckin' noses outta joint around here lately."
It's the atmosphere around here, Delaney thinks, poring over his interoffice mail.
A depressing place, working on depressing stuff.
He takes the first case file from the stack.
Mother's boyfriend, daughter underage. Indictable.
Mother's boyfriend, daughter age of consent. Complaint indictable-and in order.
Mother's boyfriend-geez, where do these women find these guys? he asks himself.
And he thinks of Diedre, Susan, and the redoubtable Larry, he of the active glands and exhibitionistic penchant.
And he realizes that that is not the worst case, not by any means.
Photographs accompany some of the files.
You're pulling a regular assault with intent to commit bodily harm on this one, pal! Delaney tells the offender, silently, looking at the bruises on the female body, then checking on current disposition, noting that the guy is out on bail, trial date set and why does he have this one anyway?
He calls up on it and yes, the prosecutor's office is missing the file, sorry about that.
Paper, Delaney tells himself, it's all paper.
And he doesn't want to look at any more paper.
He wants to look at, look at-
He pulls the file out of his briefcase, looks up the number and calls Murray.
"The ever popular 'Staying after School', eh?" Delaney observes, sitting back on the couch with Murray, sipping a beer.
"Yeah, I made a regular fuckin' classic there all right. "Speakin' of which, didja have occasion t'visit my two stars there?"
"I did indeed. Too bad you don't have a tape of the instant replay."
"They did that? Right in fronta ya?"
"Yeah. This Susan is out t'prove a point of some kind. Somethin' t'do with her mother."
"With her mother?"
"I believe I made that abundantly clear. You got a hearing problem of some kind, Murray?"
"No, no, just something-she looked a little, like, familiar, y'know? So it just could be-tell me something, Howard: What's her mother's name?"
"Dierdre. Why?"
"It could be, it just could be-s-be right back."
Murray rummages through several cardboard boxes he has pulled out of a closet as Delaney watches Susan rimming Helen's ass hole as Helen moons the world, on hands and knees atop the desk.
"Got it!" he exclaims.
"Got what?"
"The 1099 summary for 1986! She is fucking on there!"
"No shit! Would you happen to have-"
"Say no more! Great minds run in the same channels! Lemme get out the backup envelope-there!
"There it is! TWF19. TWF. Stands for two-way fuck. Those are really great things, but the problem is finding women who'll go for it and look good doing it.
"That's why I remembered the name."
"She was good at it then, was she?"
"Better than good! It was, like, all she ever wanted t'do!
"Regular sex, okay, but what's one more fuck flick. Lez-enh!"
And Murray waggles a hand, palm down, fingers extended, the universal sign for so-so.
"But," he continues, "put her in bed with a couple studs and you would not believe-"
"Make me a believer, Murray."
"You got it, pal!"
And Murray peruses the shelves of the bookcases that line the walls of his apartment-studio, filled with video tapes, some individual, arrayed book-like on the shelves, some in labeled plastic boxes.
He finds what he is looking for and pulls it out.
"You uh, you seen enougha this one?"
"Go."
Murray complies at once, switching the tapes, the screen showing, in ornate black and white letters against a pink background, "Mnage Trois."
"Sounds positively generic, Murray."
"A classic and a prototype, all in one, no question," Murray responds, his tone proud.
Dialogue bullshit, uninspired, as Diedre greets hubby and friend, blue collar workers (hardhats, lunchpails) in bedroom in transparent black negligee.
"Lotta front doors open right into the bedroom, do they, Murray?"
"Thank you, Gene Siskel. Just keep watchin', okay?"
More dialogue bullshit and everybody takes everything off, Dierdre sliding into the unmade bed, on her back, the two guys flanking her on either side.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Delaney exclaims. "That's Larry, the guy on the left!"
"You know the guy, Howard?"
"Diedre's boyfriend, common-law husband, whatever, before he took off for parts unknown.
"She's got 'im on tape at home. Or rather, he got himself on tape before he left."
"No kidding! Isn't it a small world?"
"And getting smaller everyday," Delaney concurs. The muscle stud with Larry and Dierdre sucks his assigned tit as Larry does the same.
Close-up of Diedre, arm across both their upper backs, eyes closed, look of ecstasy as her face flushes redder and redder.
"She's not kidding, is she?" Delaney asks, rhetorically.
"And yours truly got it in closeup!" Murray boasts.
"I see that," Delaney replies absently, intent now on the screen, of Diedre's reaction.
Because now, she is pulling away from them, getting up, breaking the intimate sucking and fondling, surprising even the camera (Murray), which jerks back rather abruptly, in order to accommodate the long view, as Diedre descends on the muscle man's cock.
Side view of the incipient blowjob, as Diedre's head bobs up and down, mouth sucking hungrily, bringing the organ very quickly to hill erection.
And now, she warms to her task, the camera panning back to show her there, crouched between the brawny legs, ass in the air.
As Larry takes full advantage of her position, spreading the cheeks of her ass, rimming her, then giving her a finger wave, obviously preparing her for the action to come.
And now, Dierdre, having sucked the other stud to full hardness, stands over him, straddling his hips, a blonde, female colossus, before she squats, the camera following the action as she reaches for his cock, closing in on her insertion of it into her pussy, as viewed from the rear.
And now, she settles down on him, leaning forward as the camera pans from juncture of cock and cunt to the head of the bed, where the bemuscied (to Delaney) stranger sucks and fondles her breasts, feeding himself her nipples, one at a time.
As she rotates her hips, reaming her pussy with his long, thick prick.
Again, a closeup of her face, this time in profile, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth opened in a smile at once pure and salacious.
"The Frederico Felini of fuck flicks, that's me!" Murray says, in self-accolade, at the sight of a Diedre obviously in very real heat.
Closeup now of Dierdre's ass hole, large, puffysegmented, protruding from the internal pressure of her filled vagina, shiny now with Larry's saliva, slackened now from Larry's meticulous preparation.
And she raises her hips now, using her knees planted on either side of the muscle stud, until only the head of his prick remains inside her pussy.
So that Larry has room to plug into her butt, a thing he does with simple dexterity, as though this is a most natural thing to do, or at least something he does as often as regular fucking.
He slides in and she settles down on the cock that already impales her cunt.
Closeup now of the double juncture, showing balls locked tightly to the base of a cock, most of which has disappeared into the smoothly rounded mouth her ass hole has become, a couple of inches of taint (you know; 'taint 'er ass hole, 'taint 'er cunt) separating this arrangement from its almost mirror image of a smoothly rounded mouth of a pussy, stretched and filled by a long, thick column of meat subtended by a pair of balls locked to its base.
The participants and the camera pause to study, to absorb this arrangement.
And now, Larry, as top man, begins his motion, bouncing up and down.
And the camera stays right where it is, locked into the action, as the two cocks alternate between all the way in and halfway out, a rhythmic, two piston engine comprised of living flesh.
Slow pan backward to embrace the comprehensive picture of the motion, slow, smooth pan around to the side, taking it in in rather confusing profile, flesh on flesh on flesh.
To arrive at Dierdre's head, at Dierdre's profile, to see it in its rapture, a study of incredible (except that she certainly made a believer of Murray, is making one of Delaney) passion, of total absorption in the floodtide of lascivious sensation which is so obviously welling up within her.
So that the message of the image on the screen is that of total acceptance, of saying yes and yes and yes to the influx of sexual feeling which adds to itself with every bounce of the trio on the trampoline of the bed.
As Dierdre is fucked in cunt and ass.
As Dierdre's tits are sucked and fondled.
As she uses, manipulates, controls the two studs.
Because it is clearly her passion which sets the here, calls the shots, the feedback of her sexual intensity combining with the sucking of her fevered, flowing orifices to pull them up, up, up the rainbow behind her-but not by much.
Because, even now, the camera, panning in closeup, shows the muscle studs limbs beading up with his sexual sweat, even as the more hairy, less muscular Larry redoubles his efforts.
Because he too has been seized by his lust, has been caught up in the toils of that two-step of hunger and satisfaction that is the hallmark of good sex, of great sex, of genuine sex.
The more you get, the more you want, rising from level to level of arousal at an ever faster rate.
So it is with Larry, and with the other, what can be seen of him, providing as he does the sturdy foundation for this pile of living flesh which squirms and undulates, caught up in the throes of its ever more rapid ascent up the rainbow of their shared pleasure.
Yes, hotter and hotter the three of them become.
And the camera picks it all up, seems to capture the exact moment at which they yield control of mind to body, surrendering thought to sensation, becoming mere puppets in the hands of that which is greater than themselves.
Because the pleasure beyond pleasure is full upon them now, its presence more real than they themselves, the unseen force which jerks them this way and that, mindless rag dolls caught up, helpless in a rictus of passion which is all-powerful, irresistible.
So that now, they are coming and coming, all three of them, the sound track picking up Dierdre's cries of utter sexual transport, to the bass accompaniment of the men's grunts and pants of automatic, reflexive exertion.
Soon enough, Delaney knows, they will feel it, the after-effects of an apparently effortless ride on which they are mere passengers.
But only after, after-
The camera picks up the jism which oozes from both of Dierdre's nether orifices, forming thick, pearlescent collars, forced from her interior, fore and aft, by the alternating pressure and by the absence of room in either body cavity to accommodate both the turgid invader and its output.
And now, the frenetic interaction of the three hot bodies reaches its most agitated.
And now, it slowly, surely slows, grinding to a halt.
And the camera focusses on the double juncture, hanging right in there as the two cocks slowly detumesce, remaining faithfully on station until the peristaltic action of Diedre's bowels expel Larry from her ass hole, along, thick, shiny, smooth pink turd.
"Boy!" Delaney exclaims, "That was some perform-"
"Wait! There's more."
Delaney watches, mystified. What more could there be after what he has just seen, at least without a break in service, as they say in tennis?
And yet, the camera pans back slightly, to make sense of the shifting of the bodies, as Larry pulls back and Dierdre dismounts from the muscle stud, of whose sweat-polished, glistening contours the camera makes a production, head to foot, pausing to dwell lovingly on his slowly detumescing, spermmarbled heavy equipment.
"I don't get the purpose-"
"Shhh! Humor me, Howie! Just watch!"
From the muscle stud's cock, the eye of the camera swings slowly left, to where Diedre, on her back, raises and spreads her legs, revealing her jismoozing pussy and bung-and where Larry, on his stomach, looks at the same thing, upper body resting on his elbows, rapt smile on his face,
Which draws closer and closer to Dierdre's crotch.
Which extends its tongue.
"Oh, come on, Murray! Surely, he's not going to actually-"
"Ey, waddaya want from me, Howard?
"These people are bigger than I am, y'know.
"I'm more observer than director. That's my style, as you should know by now.
"My function is to precipitate events, not to control them. They are what they are-the people and the action."
"Murray, you are really pushin' the envelope with this shit, babe, lemme tell ya!
"I mean, if my office knew-"
"Too late, too late, too late!" Murray exclaims, in a childish, sing-song voice, "You are lookin' at 1986, remember?
"Outta print, outta stock, except in some of the recycle video rental places, maybe."
"This is some fuckin' production, is all I can say!"
"Well, y'know, Howard, ole Lare there went both ways. Probably still does, wherever he is."
"He do much work for you?"
"Some. Probably more than he should of, me bein' such a lazy hick an' all, not changin' talent as often as my medium really requires.
"I mean, something about the guy is, I dunno, a turn-off.
"I guess it's the discrepancy between the way he looks an' the way he acts.
"If he was some two twenny-five gorilla, or if he was fuckin' Rudolph Valentino, okay, but the guy is, like, a zero who thinks he's the besta both, y'know?"
"Make ya nervous, just bein' around, did he?"
"Yeah, mattera fact, he did, now you mention it.
"I mean, it was, it was-ya just never knew what he was gonna do next.
"Hard guy t'figure, is what I'm sayin'. Oh, geez, forgot about that part!"
And Delaney stares at the screen, seeing but not believing, as Larry makes a meal of Dierdre's defiled delta, fore and aft.
And the camera pans up to where the muscle stud wears a look of incredulity similar to Delaney's.
"Like a Greek chorus, right, Howard? You get the role of the other guy in that shot?"
"You're a real artist, Murray," Delaney says, still looking at the screen, fighting back the nausea, "an' don't let anybody ever tell ya different."
"Except for your office, right?"
"An' don't choo ever forget it, pal!
"Yech! No way do I go along with this!
"Murray, where's the redeeming social value here?"
"Where? Okay, I'll tell ya where, pal.
"Say the bomb hits, right?
"A thousand years from now, archeologists diggin' in the ruins of the city come across this tape.
"Now, you mean t'tell me that the tape-from its form, its production, its means and motivation of creation, its subject matter-talkin' the people and the action-you mean t'tell me that that is not an accurate, comprehensive representation of the spirit of our times, all neatly contained, packaged in a single, compact artifact?
"Ey, you may not like the statement it makes, you may not agree with it; that's your privilege, okay?
"But. It is what it is, know what I'm sayin'?
"Howard? Talk t'me, Howard!"
"I got nuthin' t'say, Murray."
"Then with that statement, pal, said it all." you have just said it all."