Chapter 8
"I look at you, Isidore, and I see a philanthropist," Delaney says.
"Do you really?" Izzy replies, shifting in his chair, not looking Delaney in the eye.
"What else would you call it, when thee senior partner of a major law firm personally takes on as a client some small-time porno operator like Murray Weiner?"
"Okay," Izzy agrees, looking out the picture window of his office, fingers tented beneath his chin, in profile and silhouette to Delaney, "so I'm a philanthropist. What's it to ya, Howard?"
"What it is to me, Izzy, is someone caught in the middle, on the horns of a dilemma, as it were."
"I don't have the foggiest notion of what you're-
"Just, just hear me out, Iz, okay?
"Let's just say-speaking hypothetically, of course-that a firm such as yours has a major client, such as, for example, Buck Enterprises, billing to that client being-what?"
"You tell me. We're speaking hypothetically, remember?"
"Say, in the neighborhood of, oh, two mil, in a good year three, but we're talking each and every year. Problem with that?"
"Not so far."
"Naturally, a client like that, the firm would be expected and would in fact handle the private legal matters, if any, of the chief executive officer, owner, chairman of the board, president of that firm-especially if all these crowns were on one and the same head, in this case, the head of Rand Buck.
"Which, or so rumor among legal and state police circles would have it, is the housing of a brilliant, but rather twisted mind."
"The man has his hobbies and his personal quirks, yes," Izzy concedes, "to which he is fully entitled, so long as he breaks no laws."
"Or so long as you can successfully shield him from the ones he does," Delaney appends.
"Argumentative and alleges facts not in evidence."
"We're not in court, Iz."
"The remark still applies, Howard. Look. Is all this leading somewhere? Because I gotta tell ya, I have a full cup here today, and-"
"This could save you a lot of time and trouble later, Izzy-you and Randy Buck, that is." Izzy sits back, resigned, facing Delaney.
"There's been too much shit floating to the surface of that cesspool Randy Buck calls a life, Iz.
"His name has been coming up in connection with way too many bizarre and off-color incidents.
"The state police have a computer, the state attorney's office has a computer-"
"You got shoo-ooze, I got shoo-ooze, all God's chillun got shoes!" Izzy sings, clapping his hands rhythmically as he intones the spiritual. "Get to the point arready, Howard."
"The advantage of a data base, Izzy, is its ability to sort in accordance with whatever parameter the qualified user selects.
"Put in the name Randy Buck, and it comes out peripheral to enough incidents to fill several paperback books of the kind you don't leave lying around for the kids, know what I'm saying?"
"He has never been charged-"
"Please, Izzy! You think I don't know that?
"But then, that's what he's got you for, Iz, right?
"Anyway, it would seem that your client, our mutual friend Murray-"
"Former client. Case closed, no retainer."
"Whatever. Our common acquaintance, Murray, was a key witness in the case involving that halfway house supervisor-the one with the hoods and whips and-"
"I know which one, Howard. I defended her, remember?"
"At Randy Buck's request and with him writing the checks, Izzy; or was that included in your retainer?"
"That's none of your business."
"Which is precisely why I'm here, Izzy."
"At last! Speak your piece, or is there more by way of background?"
"May I be perfectly frank, Izzy?"
"Please. And brief too, while you're at it. Time is money, Howard. We can't all suck the public tit, y'know."
"You wound me, Isidore," Delaney replies, clutching his chest, but recovering at once to say, "I believe you took on Murray as a client after he came to you in order to save his life from what you perceived to be a threat from Randy Buck.
"You were afraid that if it hit the papers, he would be identified as that same Murray Weiner who took the dirty pictures of Sally, with whom Randy Buck was found under mysterious and bizarre circumstances at a mysterious and bizarre country house.
"And Murray came to you for precisely the same reason; I know because he told me so.
"He wanted to show Randy Buck that he was no threat, that he wasn't going to cause him any more adverse publicity.
"The man owned a couple major league ball teams-one football, one baseball-neither of whose commissioners would allow him to retain such ownership, should his reputation be called into question any more than what it is.
"Right now, of course, there's the matter of his having been admitted to the hospital on an emergency basis after being found severely beaten and in chains in the basement of his own home.
"In other words, bottom line here, counselor, is that Randy Buck has way more shit going on in his life than even he can reasonably expect to survive intact."
"That's the truth. If you saw him in the hospital like I did-"
"Be that as it may, Isidore, I want you to make Randy Buck aware of the fact-and it is a cold, hard fact, take my word for it-that if anything, anything at all should happen to Murray Weiner, yet another file now exists-in several places-which will clearly implicate Randy Buck.
"Murray was scared and you must have thought he had reason to be, or you wouldn't have taken his case for a lousy couple thou.
"You don't have to say anything, Izzy; just pass the word. Bottom line, leave Murray Weiner the fuck alone."
"Is uh, is Murray gonna keep his nose clean from here on out?" Izzy asks.
"What do I know? What do I look like-his keeper?"
"Just uh, just what are you to him, Delaney-now that you brought the subject up?"
And Izzy sits back in his chair, prepared to listen, suddenly a man with all the time in the world.
"Come, come," Izzy continues, "don't be shy. I was a young man myself, once. One can only imagine the scope, the breadth of one such as Murray's connections in the world of the flesh."
Delaney looks at Izzy, expressionless, before breaking into a grin.
"That's uh, that's really very perceptive of you, Iz," he concedes. "Murray and I have become quite close, in fact-strictly a side effect of my cleaning up the loose ends, the aftermath of his little adventure, his brush with the law.
"And Isidore, they are cleaned up, all of them, the loose ends about which Randy Buck is so concerned-and which he undoubtedly considers Murray to be.
"So yes, you might tell Randy Buck that Murray is a close personal friend of Assistant State's Attorney Howard Delaney. Or should I too quake in my boots lest I stir the ire of Randy Buck?"
Izzy throws up his hands sighing, and lets them drop into his lap.
"What do you want me to say, Howard?
"You think it's easy, having Randy Buck for a client?
"If you think he confides in me, you're wrong. He tells me what he feels I have to know, nothing more.
"To tell you the truth, Howard, I don't wanna know anything more than that."
"Yeah, well, I hope you won't take it the wrong way if I tell you I don't have all that much sympathy for you, Iz. You want the corporate traffic, you gotta handle the private life, which is just tellin' ya what we both know.
"But," Delaney says, rising, extending his hand toward Izzy, who also stands, reaching for it, "maybe his latest experience will slow 'im dowit, mellow 'im out, whatever."
"Maybe," Izzy repeats, tone dubious, shaking hands.
"Oh and Izzy?" Delaney says, pausing, one hand on the ornate brass handle of one of the heavily carved double doors at the entrance to Izzy's private office, "I'd be most interested in Randy Buck's reaction when you tell him of our conversation."
"If it's anything untoward, I will advise."
"Yeah, right."
And Delaney exits, slipping through the door, closing it softly behind himself.
"You saved my life, Howard," Murray says, "I'm sure of it!"
"Yeah, so?"
"It's just, just ... nobody ever did that for me before. Fact is, nobody ever cared if I lived or died until you came along.
"I mean, I realize you've got cher reasons an' all, but still, I'm genuinely grateful. I wantcha t'know that."
"So now I do, Murray.
"So. Where do we go from here?
"I can fix you up with just about anything you want.
"You wanna build yerseif a harem, you got it!"
"You live alone, don't cha, Murray?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do.
"Get a lotta action, but I live alone."
"Why is that, Murray? I mean, the law of averages says that, sooner or later, among so many from which to, pick an' choose, somethin's gotta click, right?"
"Wrong, Howard. Dead wrong.
"If things were clickin', if they were, t'coin an expression, clickable wit' these people, any of 'em, they wouldn't be here. I wouldn't know them. They wouldn't do what they do,
"Howard, when you're lookin' at the tapes, what choo see is what you get, know what I'm sayin'?
"I first started out innis bidniss, Howard, I used t'tell myself, This is a real person, these are real people doin' this stuff."
"Real people, Howard. Meaning hopes an' dreams, plans an' a future, placed t'go, people t'see, things t'do.
"But after a while, I learned that that's not true. I was lyin' t'my self.
"The truth is just exackly what I tole ja.
"What choo see is what choo get. There ain't no mo', pal. Sad but true-if the truth can ever really be said t'be sad.
"Sad. That's, like, a human feeling, y'know? Sad is what one person feels out of sympathy for another. Sad is for so-called real people, Howard."
"I mean, you go into a restaurant, you order a steak, or a chicken breast, or a fillet of fish.
"You feel sad for the cow, the hen, the flounder?
"Of course you don't. That would be ridiculous, absurd, wouldn't it? I mean, the thought would never cross yer mind, Howard, an' you know it.
"Knowin' that the animal has paid the supreme penalty, what do you feel? You feel hungry, then you feel full, is what choo feel.
"Same thing wit' these people.
"They have declared themselves-meat, Howard.
"I dunno. Maybe, maybe before they come here, maybe there was somethin', somethin' ... higher there, inside their heads, inside their lives.
"But whatever that was, Howard-if there was ever anything, if it wasn't all a buncha bullshit t'begin with-that's gone. That's gone, an' it's never comin' back.
"It's too fuckin' late, Howard. What's done is done an' it can never be undone.
"An' Howard, if it's true for them, what does that say about you an' me?
"If they're meat, Howard, what does that make us?"
"More meat?"
"I think so, Howard.
"You look at the tapes, waddaya see?
"Creatures from another planet? Images you never dreamed of, thoughts you never had?
"You look at the tapes, Howard, an' you are looking into a mirror!
"What choo see is what you get, Howard, an' what choo get is a reflection, a reflection of what's already in here," tapping his forehead with his finger, "a confirmation that somethin' you thought is real.
"Figure it out for yourself, Howard. "You wanna see if your hair's parted okay? You look inna mirror.
"You wanna see if your suit's hangin' right? You look inna mirror.
"You wanna know if some gorgeous piece of ass would be ready, willin' an' able to take cocks up her pussy an' ass at the same time an' get you an' a buddy off together?
"Ta-da! You look inna mirror, t'see if it's just your raunchy mind havin' a frustration fever, or if it can happen, if reality will support what goes on inside jet head.
"It's all on the tapes, Howard, all of it!
"Name a combination, I can show ya the reflection of that thought, it's amplification, it's reality!
"Tell me what choo wanna see, Howard.
"Couple big, black studs givin' it to each other up the ass? I got it!
"If I am' got it, I can get it!
"Ev'ry once in a while, I get a call from the coast, a custom job, ACDC, mixed couples-rush!
"You are bookin' at the Domino's Pizza of the VCR, Howard!
"An' why not? Because it's all meat. An' how do you serve meat? Any fuckin' way you want to, is how!
"You're bookin' for redeeming social value?
"The very fact that the tape was made tells you a fundamental truth about who and what we are!
"Getting back t'yer original question, Howard, I live alone, you live alone, ev'rybody lives alone. Just some of us understand that more clearly than others.
"So. What'll it be?"
"Housecalls, Murray."
"Howzat?"
"Housecalls. I wanna boff housewives, during the day. I wanna be able t'call up this one or that, go on over an' do my thing.
"I wanna make their day.
"That's just, like ... a thing I wanna do.
"I wanna put in the resta my fuckin' career doin' that, Murray.
"After! retire, I wanna do it better an' less often.
"I wanna feel that I'm not, missing anything, Murray, can you understand that?
"Above all, I don't want any loose ends, no sweet young thing who thinks that I couldn't possibly do such an' such with her and not have it mean something more than what it does.
"The last thing in the world I need, Murray, is t'be with a broad an' have her think there's something more than what there is between us.
"What choo see is what choo get.
"By the time we hit the sheets, me an' whoever, it's already too late for there to be anything else, anything more.
"So no, no thanks, no romance an' no romantic girls.
"Give 'em to me well broken in an' all hot to trot, as a sport and a pastime, Murray."
"Got a lotta them," Murray confirms.
"I want a lotta them, Murray. Make it happen, babe, an' we are square."
"I will make the phone calls an' fill yer fuckin' dance card, even as you watch, pal o' mine!"
And he does.
"You understand, Mr. Jones, that we do not treat lightly the goings on in your home, nor are we in any way condoning, overlooking, still less forgiving that which, on the face of it, deserves a far more stringent handling on the part of this court than that to which your lawyer and the prosecution have agreed.
"You do understand that, do you not?"
"Uh, whut was the question?"
Laughter in the courtroom as the judge bangs his gavel repeatedly for order and Delaney looks down, shaking his head and smiling.
"I will explain to my client the terms and conditions of the family counseling and the probation, your honor," Ms. Delacroix says.
"Do so, Ms. Delacroix.
"And you sir; if it should come to the attention of this court that there has, been one more disturbance in your household of whatever nature, if the periodic medical examinations of your wife and daughter reveal anything untoward, I shall at once vacate the suspension."
"Have yo'se'f a veh nice trip, yo' honor."
"What?"
"En-joy yo' vacayshun, suh!"
More laughter, as the judge rolls his eyes.
"I shall explain vacation of suspension to my client, your honor," Ms. Delacroix says.
"Just, just get him outta here!"
Bang of the gavel, followed by, "Next case!"
And Delaney looks at his watch, secure now in the knowledge that he will be done here by noon.
He can have lunch and easily make the suburbs by two.
"Hello, Mabel. I'm Howard."
"Oh yeah, Murray's friend. C'mon in, Howard. Hafta excuse the way the place looks. Don't trip over the vacuum cleaner there.
"I was gonna do the living room, but Guiding Light was on, then General Hospital. You follow the soaps?"
"No, I generally have better-I mean, I usually catch the news instead. When I watch TV, that is."
"You're better off, Howard. The soaps can be pretty aggravating sometimes, the problems some of those people have.
"Well. I guess we could get right upstairs.
"You tilt, you really thought I was hot on the tapes, huh?"
"Couldn't wait to meet cha," he says, as they climb, side by side.
"Yeah, well, I don't do those any more, y'know."
"So Murray said."
"Too much hassle, the commute, y'know? "I mean, it ain't like I need the money. It was just, just somethin' t'do, so I did it for laughs for awhile, t'share my goodies with the world, y'know?
"As you can see, I do have more than enough t'go around."
And she takes off the bathrobe, proud of her voluptuous, overblown body, the breasts enormous, not yet too pendulous, the stretch marks clearly showing on her chest.
"I usually wear a bra, but I knew you were comin'," she explains, stripping the unmade bed of its covers, rumpled at the foot, then centering herself in the bed as Delaney strips.
Delaney loses himself in nature's bounty, wallowing on her breasts, playing all the games, from telephone to earmuffs.
He slides down her body, hands and mouth, eye and tongue confirming her thereness, her reality, her abundance.
She raises and spreads her legs, knees bent, as he dives into her muff, into yet another specimen of that which is out here in such abundance, meat and meat and meat-delicious, sumptuous, yielding, waiting for him.
Quickly, he forms a rock-hard erection.
Deftly, he inserts it.
And scoops up her legs from beneath, doubling her up on his prong, grasping her breasts, kneading and fondling them, feeding them to himself, one at a time, sucking her tits as he fucks her.
So that he is above and below her, inside and outside and all around her, enveloping her with his virile, lusty, pumping presence.
And her face is red, eyes closed, concentrating not so much on her imagery-because she is lazy, vapid, would not go to the trouble to go beyond present reality-but on the feelings which he has awakened within her, as much spectator to her body's reactions as their generator and a participant here.
And her body does not disappoint, because Howard does not disappoint.
No, he activates the nerve endings of her vagina with his pruriently pounding prick, bringing her to life, to the one kind of life she fully understands, understands as one understands the sensations of the body, understands the lascivious intimacy, the powerful presence of the aroused male and his organ on her, in her, containing her with a total presence.
And this understanding feeds upon itself, becoming deeper and deeper as more and more of her body becomes aware of its engagement, its involvement in the task at hand.
And she smiles, eyes closed, sexual sweat beading on her forehead now, face turning redder and redder, the scarlet spreading slowly to the swollen surfaces of her breasts as they balloon on her chest.
Ever novel, ever familiar, ever dependable, her responses.
And Howard sees that she was right not to make the commute, not when home delivery is available.
Because he senses, not some frenetic, desperate escape here for her, but mother a genuine, deep-seated happiness.
Because this is right, this has meaning for her, a strictly physical, intensely sensual meaning and no other.
And that's fine, that's okay. If one must be meat, then one might as well be happy meat, as she so very clearly is.
She is both serene and excited, calm and aroused, hungry and in the process of being satisfied-at the moment, by Howard.
No question as to why she is doing this, what she is trying to prove, to accomplish here; what you see is what you get.
And what she gets is enough, enough and more than enough for her, more than enough to give meaning to her existence.
Murray is an artist in one sense, she in another, all her creativity bound up in the generation within herself, the utilization by herself of the materials at hand to produce pleasure, pleasure which is the promise of still more pleasure, pleasure in turn which is used to awaken, to summon from within herself that which is greater than herself, to call forth the pleasure beyond pleasure.
A bit of an effort for her, but not too much, because Delaney is well endowed and fully proficient, and now no effort at all, no need to respond because response has become automatic.
The ultimate pleasure is upon her.
And she doesn't have it; it has her.
It has her and the feedback of it from her rapidly encompasses Delaney as well.
So that here, now, they are climbing the rainbow together, are almost at the peak of their shared capacity to contain their ever-expanding sexual pleasure within themselves, to wallow in it, revel in it, lose themselves in it without-
They are coming and coming, gently, easily, his spurts, his jets of jism into her hot, streaming depths alternating with the powerful contractions of her vaginal muscles, in the throes of her series of multiple orgasms.
Thus do they ascend to sexual paradise, together and yet alone, thus do they land back on earth, together, alone.
Because there is him and there is her, but there will never be a them; she doesn't know him and doesn't want to.
He is the right man for her because he is faceless, he is everyman, the local and temporary, universal and universally available representative of the male principle, servicing her needs and satisfying her desires, a kind of public utility, which is just fine with Howard, which is all that he can ask of her or for himself.