Chapter 15
"Ada," Claude said, snapping his thumb and index finger over the plate of pork rissoles. "Her name was Ada Warren. I don't know why it came to me just now, but, Laura, Ada Warren is the creature I was trying to think of earlier this afternoon. You remind me of her."
They were all at dinner in the master cabin: Beverly and Laura, Claude and Eduardo. Not a word had been said about the events of the day-nothing concerning the party in which Laura had been systematically screwed by all the male guests, nothing about the subsequent action in her cabin when, for a solid hour, she had been honey-fucked by the Greek sailor, Stanos. But it was certainly hovering in the air, and in their brains. Laur was satisfied, but exhausted. The sailor had fucked her so long and so gradually that she had lost count of her orgasms. She could only remember that her cunt had foamed like the mouth of a mad dog, and that the brutally, wonderfully stiff prick had thrown her into a coma of hedonistic pleasure.
"Ada Warren," Claude repeated, as if savoring the long-lost name like the taste of a good wine. "An absolutely unbearable doxy-no insult intended, my dear Laura-and one who wooed and won me when I was thirteen."
Even Eduardo glanced up from his plate at that.
"Wooed you?" Beverly echoed, her smile wet and attractive in the muted light of the candles.
"And won you, Claude? Won you to what, for heaven's sakes?"
"To her lewd little heart and body."
Claude was grinning now, but a little nervously. It was obvious that old memories-and rather disturbing ones-were crowding into his mind.
"Would you like to hear about it? I mean, we've all been sitting around like figures in a morgue. Perhaps we ought to make some small attempt to revive the art of conversation. I'm certainly willing to tell you about Ada Warren, if you are willing to listen."
"I'd like to hear about her," Laura said, quietly.
Claude smiled with satisfaction and pushed his wine glass toward Eduardo to be filled again.
"Ada was one of those priceless minks boys often run into at the pubertal stage. Sometimes I wonder if God didn't set them apart in a special category. A category for the sole purpose of fouling up the lives of innocent boys . . ."
He paused and gave Laura a wink. "You will see, my dear, that my conception of the Great White Father is hardly a conventional one. In my opinion, God is the master lecher of us all. What the world terms perversions: voyeurism, flagellation, sodomy, and all the rest, were created as much in His Image as Faith, Hope, and Charity. Isn't there a delightful theory some place in de Sade to the effect that the serpent in the Garden of Eden was female, and that the real sin Eve committed was to fall madly in love with a viper from Lesbos?"
"Please, Claude," Beverly said, blushing a bit at her neck, "you were going to tell us about your Ada Warren-the one who wooed and won your boyish heart."
"And body, don't forget. Very well, darling-if the subject of Lesbianism makes you squeamish, I'll get right on to the main characters in my tale. Ada was certainly anything but a Lesbian by nature. She was mad for boys, and I suppose I just happened to be next on her long list. At any rate, she was my age-just thirteen-and her parents had a summer cottage next to mummy's on Cape Cod. I was quite a lad at thirteen-all boy, in fact. Interested in collecting shells and fishing, wild about sea monsters, and grubby under the fingernails. Sex, for me, was like red smoke on a distant horizon: I simply had not yet found it a bother. And when Ada Warren strolled into my life in her sassy, reddish pigtails and conniving, pink blouses, I took great satisfaction in ignoring her-as long as I could. To me, she was merely a playmate. But to Ada, I was a piece of sexual glitter-a pelt that she could hang at her belt once she had safely snared me. Thanks for the wine, Eduardo. You pour like a hero."
"What happened between you and the girl?" Laura asked.
Claude tipped the wine glass to his lips and tasted the liquid carefully. When he was satisfied, he let his eyes fall back on Laura's plain face with a beguiled expression.
"What happened, my child? Why, the unattractive beast seduced me . . . drove me into such an unholy rut that I fucked her behind some sand dunes."
Beverly grinned. "You?"
Claude raised his eyebrows imperiously. "I'm afraid I fail to see the humor inferred from your question, Beverly. At thirteen one is perfectly capable of performing the sexual act with passion and vigor. At any rate, I didn't hear any complaints from Ada on the subject. She purred like a randy kitten, as I recall."
Very openly, Beverly grinned across at Eduardo. "Describe her pussy for us, Claude. I'm sure Eduardo would be intrigued."
The dark eyes of the handsome young Mexican boy fell on Bev's vibrant face, then dropped slyly away.
"Her pubis was entirely free of hair," Claude said, putting his fingertips together like a Bishop at prayer. "Just a small, soft muffin of flesh, tender as honey and rose petals, but delightfully warm, deep down . . . hot, one might say."
"She enjoyed it, then?" Laura asked.
Of course she did. And so did I. But the denouement of the story is that I fell headlong in love with her. I became dedicated to her essence-a regular Romeo. I collected the best shells for her, combed my hair with her in mind, went about with a dreamy, pie-eyed expression on my face, and jacked-off for the first time in my life just thinking about her whimsical little twat."
"But you continued to fuck her?" Eduardo breathed, heavily.
"Daily, darling. We'd go behind any convenient dune, and she would strip out of her pink panties while I hauled down my bathing suit. Then I'd simply hump her blindly until we both found release. I could make her come three or four times in the space of fifteen minutes."
"Romantic," Beverly hummed, "and how did your Garden of Eden experience come to a brutal end?"
"Simply enough. I found out about the little wanton's activities outside our romance."
"And that was-?"
"It took the form of a seventeen-year-old blond stud who had been employed by her father to take care of their sailing boats. Looking back on it, of course, I can hardly blame the slut for succumbing to his handsome charms, but at the time I thought he was a villain."
"He sounds interesting," Beverly insisted, teasingly. "Tell us all about him-and your Ada."
"I caught them fucking. I saw the whole thing, from beginning to end. They did it in the bottom of one of the boats, and I was high up on a dune with a pair of field glasses . . .
"I suppose you reported him-tattled."
"I did nothing of the kind, Beverly. I knew that would get Ada in trouble. Despite it all, I still loved her. You may smile at the word, but at the time it was a sacred word to me. Somehow, I rationalized the event I had witnessed by telling myself the unscrupulous young stud had seduced my Ada against her will. So I went to challenge him, man to man."
Beverly said nothing, but her smile was a wan, twisted symbol of her cynical amusement.
"I approached him the very next morning-and told him exactly what I had seen, and that I expected him to leave Ada alone or I would kill him. His response to that boyish bravado was amazing to me. He wasn't angry or upset at all. He merely smiled at me, and asked me if I would like to take a sail out into the bay with him. He said he had to test one of the boats for Ada's father, and that he wanted company. Innocently enough, I went."
"I think we know what happened," Laura breathed, "but do go on."
He raped me out there. Under the hot blue sky and chaste clouds, he put that bestial, stiff prick into my anus-and fucked me almost unconscious while I screamed in agony."
"He took something of a chance," Beverly grinned. "Or did he, Claude?"
Claude flushed the faintest coral at his cheeks. "As it turned out-and as you perfectly well know-he had read the signs right. I was material for corruption, and he knew it. Before he was through, the sphincter muscles of my boy-ass were sucking and pulling his hard prick as deeply as possible inside me. I had an orgasm that seemed like a million bursting suns around my head. I had never been pleasured so much in my life! I might as well confess that I let him fuck me twice more before we headed back to the shore. That night I dreamed of him, woke up with a throbbing hard-on, and jacked-off until I was exhausted. The next day I begged to go out on the boat with him again. It was on that fateful second trip that he taught me-allowed me-to suck his cock. I might have hesitated a handful of seconds, but the minute I put my lips around the full blossom of his lovely cockhead, the second I smelled and tasted the strange, thrilling perfume of the male prick, I knew that I had found my life's work. I spent the rest of the summer drugged by a love-sickness for that licentious young satyr. He took advantage of me, too-for the right of sucking his horsy cock, I had to arrange for him to fuck Ada. The three of us used to go on long" outings in the sailboat. It looked innocent enough to our parents, since they trusted the young man completely, but the truth of the matter was, we indulged in the most venereal orgies one could imagine. Ada, the little slut, had grown as addicted to his cock as I had, and between the two of us, we swarmed over his beautiful body like ants after sugar."
"He made you queer, then," Beverly said.
"Mad for men, then and ever after. But still ... at times, in the dark midnight of my soul, I remember that first encounter with Ada herself. . ."
Beverly let a light, careless laugh float up from her throat. "Claude, I never knew you were such an incurable romantic! After all these years, you yearn to be thirteen again-just so you can run away with some degree of honesty in the sullied cunt of an ugly child named Ada. It really is too priceless!"
"Yes," Claude sighed, "I suppose it is all terribly silly, and terribly, terribly amusing."
He glanced once more at Laura and saw that her homely face did not bear even the faintest trace of a smile.
It made him, somehow, uncomfortable. Very.