Chapter 4
Irish Bob's nightmare had followed the same pattern every night since Laurie had moved in with him. Sitting atop a red satin pillow, wearing sultan's clothes, he was being fed huge chunks of lobster and morsels of sliced pheasant from the lovely fingertips of Laurie, dressed in see-through harem pajamas. When he was stuffed to his limit, she danced for him, seductively removing each piece of her clothing so that when she was finished and stood naked over him, her lovely body sleek with perspiration, Irish Bob had worked himself into a mass of palpitating desire.
Slowly removing his garments, Laurie would then fall upon him; and their sweat and heartbeats would intermingle as she hovered teasingly over his rigid cock, then collapsed upon it, taking it into the deepest recesses of her pussy.
She owned him now: lock, stock and single-shot rifle barrel. Then she would hunch and grind herself into him like a wild animal; and as she brought him closer and closer to an orgasm, she was transformed into a mad, frothing she-wolf with bright red hair and blood-red eyes. As the come was being flushed from his balls, she sunk her ferocious teeth into his neck and broke open his jugular vein, sending a stream of the rich, red fluid into her hungry animal mouth.
"No, I didn't do anything wrong!" Irish Bob screamed, shooting up into a sitting position on his bed, his eyes jumping open as wide as portholes. He flipped on the bedside lamp and squinted at his watch. Four a.m. Precisely the same time this phenomenon had occurred every night for the past two weeks.
The water from the cold jug in the refrigerator tasted very sweet as Irish Bob gulped it down to replace that which had rushed from his pores and soaked through pajamas and sheets all the way into the mattress. He dried his face and hair with a dish towel, sat at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. The new water began to trace the same path through his body, and he could feel it run down his chest and congregate in a small pool over his fat belly.
Get a grip on yourself, schmuck, he thought. Shell be gone soon, and that will be that. Enjoy her while she's here, but don't even entertain the thought that you might be able to keep her. You can look, touch, even feel for a moment, but never keep. For you, this is life. It's the only one you have and will ever have, so enjoy.
The stream of light from the kitchen fell across Laurie's tender nude form. Her hair spread over the pillow like copper-colored cotton candy, and Irish Bob watched the rise and fall of her breasts, and fixed his gaze upon her nipples as he took the filter tip of his cigarette between his lips and ran his tongue around it.
"Where are you going, Daddy?" echoed his daughter's voice in his head.
"Up in the mountains, sweetheart," he had answered, fighting to hold back the tears.
"I'll come with you," she said, her big, brown eyes brightening.
"No, darling. Daddy has to go all by himself. Do what your Mommy and Frank tell you."
"I don't like him, Daddy." She threw her arms around him.
"I'm not too crazy about him myself, but that's the way it has to be. That's the way your mother wants it. I'll be back soon. I'll be back soon. I'll be back soon . ... " The words trailed off in the distance. They were spoken eight years ago, Irish Bob thought. What happened to those eight years? Nothing. Nothing happened at all.
"Hi," Laurie said, hugging Irish Bob's head to her bare stomach.
"I didn't mean to wake you. I should have turned off the light," he said, snapping out of his daydream. "Want some coffee?"
"No," she yawned. "I want to dance naked on the beach and watch the sun come up."
"So be it. You are a privileged character around here. You can set fire to the place if you like."
Irish Bob slipped on a pair of huge trunks, wrapped a robe around Laurie's shoulders, slung his Nikon around his neck; and they ran out the door and over the sand like children discovering a new world. They ran all the way to the rocks that formed a breakwater for the channel leading to the marina. By the time they reached the top of the ridge and fell exhausted upon a large flat rock, the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon.
Laurie shrugged out of her robe, and Irish Bob clicked his camera at random, catching her in the middle of a yawn, fluffing her hair, and riding an imaginary bicycle upside down. "Put that away," she said, relaxing again, exercising her boobies with her hands. "What for?"
"I want you," she said, stretching her arms in his direction. "Take off your clothes and make love to me."
"Now? Here?"
"Yes, now and especially here. We're all related-you, me, the sun, the sky, the sea-all part of one big, beautiful universe. You're beautiful and I'm beautiful. I want to do something beautiful. Fuck me, Irish Bob. Please?"
He quickly stepped out of his trunks and shirt and fell on top of her, his prong sticking away from its pocket of fat like a popsicle. He had made it with her several times over the last two weeks, but he had always asked her, and she seemed to comply more out of duty than desire. He shifted all his weight directly onto her as he reached down to guide his rod into her.
"Hey, man, I can't breathe. What's the matter with you? If anyone happened to come by, they would think you've never made it before."
"And that's exactly what's the matter with me. Someone might wander by, see me, call the fuzz, and get me busted for performing a lewd and lascivious act in public."
"You're kidding," she said, squirming out from under him and walking around the rock.
"Not at all. They'll put my ass in jail."
"Come on. I know about getting the clap or crabs or pregnant. I even heard my old great-granny say that God will sunburn your twat if you fuck outdoors, but I never knew it was illegal. Have you ever known anyone who went to jail for it?"
"No, but there's always a first time and I'll probably ... Oh! Jesus Christ, baby, take it all!"
Laurie pumped her mouth slowly up and down his skinny pecker; and when Irish Bob lay back on the rock and closed his eyes in total ecstasy, she picked up his camera and started snapping shots of his face. He was too far gone to realize what was happening, and Laurie laughed as she envisioned the look of surprise on his face when he developed the roll.
A seventy-foot yacht eased past the breakwater, entered the channel and made its way toward the marina. A man, dressed in captain's clothes, leaned over the bridge and waved at her. The smile was unmistakable. It was Billy Black.
Laurie could feel a rumbling shudder pass through Irish Bob's body, signaling his oncoming orgasm. As much as she would have liked to finish the blow job, she couldn't spare the time. She pulled on his cock once more, creating as much suction as she possibly could, then released him, dove into the water and swam toward the ship.
"Oh, shit!" Irish Bob screamed, hitting his head back against the rock as his tool exploded. like an unattended fire hose, his cock spurted come in all directions, leaving deposits on his stomach, hips and legs. "Oh, yes, sweetheart, yes! My God, lover, it won't stop!"
"Coffee, what the fuck you doing up there?" said Fats Miller from the base of the breakwater, snapping his head upward when he heard Irish Bob scream.
"Who's that?" he answered, looking around for Laurie and quickly covering his nakedness with his shorts.
Fats huffed and puffed his way up the fifteen-foot climb. He was a pig-faced man, about four hundred pounds, with black stringy hair and corpulent purple lips. "Jesus Christ, man, have you gone completely crazy? There happens to be a law against beating your meat on a public beach."
"Come on, Fats, you know me. better than that. There was a girl here, giving me a blow job."
"Sure there was. What became of her? Did she crawl up your ass-hole? "
"I swear to you, Fats, she was here not five minutes ago-"
"And I swear to you, fella, you screamed, I looked up and saw your cock shooting jism all over you, and there was nobody helping out. Coffee, you're worse than this drunk we found in the park whacking his mule last week. At least he had an excuse. I asked him if he'd been drinking, and he said he was so smashed he didn't even know who he was screwing."
"But Fats, I tell you, there was a girl here."
"You tell me that once more and I'm taking you into see the shrink." Fats was talking right into Irish Bob's face, and his breath smelled terrible. Then his eyes narrowed. "Now, I ask you again, what happened up here a few minutes ago?
"Just like you said, Fats, I was jerking off."
"Why?"
"Well ... I mean, it was a nice day, so I thought what the shit, why not?"
Billy Black watched the two men through a pair of binoculars from the ship. He laughed when Fats tried to put the cuffs on Irish Bob, and almost fell over the side when Coffee tagged Fats with a roundhouse right and dropped him into the drink. Irish Bob said a few obscenities over the edge at him before picking up his gear and stomping away, but Billy couldn't see what he was saying. Fats floated back to the rocks and tried to pull himself out of the water. He was still trying when the ship made the turn into the next channel and Billy lost visual contact.
Laurie was all over Billy before the First Mate, who had fished her out of the water, had had a chance to dry her properly, and Billy kept her at arms's length to avoid getting his pretty clothes all wet.
"Oh, Billy, I was so worried about you when you went underwater and I didn't see you come up and the next morning everybody was asking me what happened and I just knew you were dead and ... "
"Hold it. I'm all right. Take a breath and tell me all about it."
"Where were you?"
"Well, remember when I went over and didn't come up."
"Yes."
"Well, I was carried out a few hundred yards by this undertow, and these fishermen picked me up. Well, I thought they were friendly guys, you know; but they were fiends, and they pulled all this homosexual shit with me and took me to Mexico. By the time we got there, they had had all the fun they wanted with me, so they tied me up in the bilge and I was just about to drown when I broke free and got topside. Then this great big cat came at me with a knife, and we're fighting all over the boat. I'm about to pass out 'cause I haven't had anything to eat in a week, and he is trying to stick me in the eye when I turn it on him. Zap, he gets it right in the heart, his eyes bulge out, and he dies right on top of me. Don't tell anyone about it. He was the President's third cousin, and they're looking for who did it. Well anyway, I'm still trapped 'cause he's so big I can't move him. Then this big storm comes up and washes us both overboard and this good ship happens by and rescues me. Just in time, too."
"Darling, I'm so glad you got out all right," she said, trying to put her arms around him.
He pushed her away. "Don't 'darling' mc. I saw what you were doing with Irish Bob when we came in the channel."
"But that didn't mean anything. I've been staying with him, waiting for you to come home." Billy scooped her up in his arms. "I know, you were just giving him a form of resuscitation, weren't you?"
"But he was nice to me, and I had-" Billy dropped her over the side. She surfaced, sputtering, and swam for shore.
"Darling, look!" said the beautiful Mexican heiress, Juanita Montez, when she came up from below. "There's a naked girl swimming out there."
"Yes, my dear," Billy said, putting his arm around her tiny waist. "Didn't I tell you? This is the only nudist marina in the United States. We better get undressed so we won't look out of place."
"Undressed?"
"Yes, my darling. When in Rome, one should always order spaghetti." Billy unfastened her bikini top, then pulled down the bottoms. She was a gorgeous woman, about forty, tiny, yet very curvaceous. Her breasts pointed upward and the nipples were almost black, like her eyes. Billy undressed and motioned for one of the sailors to do the same.
"The crew, too?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, anything less would be in extreme bad taste."
Mayor Conklin, his wife, daughter and guests sat in his Chris Craft drinking martinis when the Juamo came by.
"Everyone else seems to be dressed," Juanita said, waving.
"That's because the season just started today," Billy said. "Well be a good reminder for everybody to get with it." He waved madly at Conklin's boat.
"Who are they, John?" one of Conklin's guests asked. "That fellow seems to know you."
"No, I never saw him before in my life. It's probably a publicity stunt to promote a new movie."
"Ahoy there, John! It's me, Billy Black! How are you and your friends today?"
"He seems to know you, dear," said his wife.
"No, no! He must think I'm someone else named John."
"So that's Billy Black," mused Jane, Conklin's anything-but-plain daughter. She beamed as she fixed her binoculars on his rugged face, and the animal magnetism reflected in his smile came through to her like lightning cutting into the base of a tree. She slowly panned his naked torso. Whatever his age, she thought, he is certainly in good shape. She was fascinated by his cock. This surprised her very much since her previous reactions upon seeing male genitalia had been to giggle. Her salivary glands, reacting as though set off by a conditioned response, flooded her mouth and she had to swallow to prevent an overflow of spittle. Aware that a similar outpouring was occurring below, she uncrossed her legs and glanced down to be certain the love juice wasn't running out the side of her bikini. She had heard Billy Black stories all of her life and now, having seen him, was ready to accept as fact much of what she had dismissed as fiction. She liked him. All of him.
"Let me see the glasses, Jane," Conklin asked. She handed them over, and he zeroed in on Juanita's charms. "Yeah, I think I've seen him on the beach. He's a big show-off. Called me by my first name to impress the woman. Where are you going, Jane?"
"I feel kind of dizzy. I think I'll lie down for a minute."
When she got up, her size and sensuality became apparent to all. She was a big girl, five-nine, broad chest and hips. She had experimented with sex most of her twenty-five years and anyone with any awareness at all could tell by looking at her that she had experienced great physical satisfaction with a man. She wore her sensuality like a multi-colored cloak, and the woman in her always looked as though it were scratching to get out.
Jane descended the short flight of stairs and paused at the door to the head. She glanced at the bunk ahead of her, then made up her mind and entered the small head and bolted the door behind her. Removing her swimsuit, she stood in front of the mirror and stroked her breasts. It was hot in the closed cubicle, and so was she. Her hands wandered to her sex and she traced the triangle of hair, converging upon her clitoris with both thumbs and forefingers. Her knees became weak and she leaned back against the wall for support, then slid down and sat on the stool. After propping her long legs, one upon the wash basin and the other on the lip of the porthole, her manipulations became faster and more intense. Keeping constant pressure applied on her clit with her left hand, she plowed the fingers of her right hand through her hot, slick slit and toyed with the entrance to her cunt for a moment before plunging them inside.
"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, and a vision of Billy Black became fixed in her mind. She saw the whole man first, standing in front of her, neither flaunting nor ashamed of his nakedness. Next flashed a close-up of his face, laughing like a free spirit with the wind blowing his hair in all directions. Then came a tight shot of his cock, and in her mind it became hard. Now its pulsating head was only inches from her mouth, begging to be sucked. Jane, with eyes tightly closed, pushed up her left breast with the crook of her arm and took the nipple into her mouth. In her vision she heard Billy moan, and his hands took the place of hers and they massaged and finger-fucked her royally; she sucked his cock harder, parched for the quenching liquid it contained. It could be hers if she sucked harder and she did, and when his tool exploded in her mouth, her cunt erupted in his hands. She was beside herself with lusty joy. Her right leg jumped upward by its own volition, and her knee struck a brass fitting. It was a painful blow, but the pain didn't register in her brain until she woke up about an hour later to the anxious pounding of her father on the head door.
Billy Black told Juanita to wait for him while he went ashore to get some beer. She never saw him again.
It was always good to be home. Nothing had changed but the pier. It was now almost two hundred feet long, and Billy wished he could uproot it like a turnip and hurl it fifteen miles out to sea. Instead, he placed both his hands upon the cement railing, closed his eyes, and tried to establish contact with the essence of the structure.
"You are anathema," he chanted. "An evil, worthless, motherfucking eyesore! I'm going to destroy you, because you are defacing nature; and she will give me the power to do so, because she is as pissed off at you as I am. I shall visit you every night, and we shall talk about your worthlessness and the danger you bring to my world. Fuck you, pier! Die! Crumble in your shame!"
Whistling as he walked back to his house, Billy felt that he had properly humiliated his foe, and he reveled in the prospect of completely destroying the pier.
"Oh, darling, I was so worried about you'll shouted Grace Tomalsen, flinging her arms around Billy as he walked through the door. "I was sure those men had done something awful to you. Did they hurt you, darling? Are you all right?"
Billy looked very somber. "It was rough, sweetheart. There were times when I really didn't expect to get out of it alive."
"I had a terrible time getting the money on such a short notice; and then when you didn't come home, I thought they had killed you, or worse I thought ... Billy, that awful man said he was going to ... going to cut your thing off!"
Billy hung his head in his hands and began to weep; softly, bravely at first; but then, as though he could no longer control it, he began to bawl as loudly as a cow in the midst of calving.
"Oh, God, no!" Grace shrieked, covering her mouth with her hands. "Not ... not all of it."
Billy looked up at her. Tears were streaming down his face. He took the hem of her powder-blue cashmere sweater and blew his nose on it. "I ... I ... ca ... CANT TALK ABOUT IT!" He lapsed into uncontrollable weeping again.
"But they promised!"
"How ... how much money did you give them."
"Two thousand dollars."
Billy burst into tears again. These were of a much more genuine variety. "Did you ... did you see them."
"But you know who they are."
"Yes, but I don't know who got the money. He's the most important man in my life right now."
"You're not going to try to fight it out with these men? Billy, they're animals! They'll kill you!"
After a long pause during which Billy stared coolly into her eyes, he said, "What possible difference could that make now?" Grace broke into tears. "Did you see them?"
"No, only their car."
"What was it?"
"A black convertible-Lincoln, I think. I didn't get the number-I was afraid to do anything but peek through the curtains when they took the money from the mailbox."
Two thousand dollars, black Lincoln, Billy mused. Nick! Of course, that cocksucker has been waiting for this for years. Okay, buddy, if that's the way you want it. Now, it's my turn.
"Billy, maybe we can get a doctor. Maybe it isn't too late."
"Wait here." He went up to the bedroom and returned a few minutes later, wearing his robe. He stood with his legs two feel apart, and his hands trembled on the lapels of the garment. The strain of the decision as whether to open it or not was clearly etched in his expression of deep concentration. A shudder flushed through Grace. Her anxiety was as intense, though not the same kind of intensity, as it was the time she saw the Mona Lisa unveiled at a private showing.
Billy took a deep breath, flung the robe open for a moment, then quickly closed it again. For all intents and purposes, his cock was gone. When Grace looked at his naked groin, all she saw was hair and a small band aid over that area where his genitals usually hung.
She held back her tears and went to embrace him. He held her away from him and spoke softly: "When you speak of this, and you will, be kind." He kissed her sweetly and she left.' From the front porch she could hear his howling start up again, and she ran the rest of the way to her Rolls and told the chauffeur to step on it.
Billy watched her leave through the window and broke up with laughter. As he doubled over he felt a sharp pain below. He quickly straightened up and broke the string around his neck which had been hidden from Grace's view by the string of his cloak-like robe. His joint flopped into view, revealing that the other end of the string had been securely fastened around the head of his cock, then run up his back and tied around his neck. He used the band aid to tape the string in his scrapbook.
"Hi, Norman," Dolly said, sighing deeply as she sat beside him during a momentary lull in the Sandpiper. "What's happening?"
"A lot. I've been keeping close tabs on our friend Quicker Jackson. Not many chinks in that boy's armor. He doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't make bets on sporting events, doesn't stay up late watching Johnny Carson."
"What does he like to do?"
"One thing: fucking. He is a seven-foot phallus, and left to his own devices he would eat, sleep with, kiss, fondle and fuck pussy twenty-four hours a day. The problem is he puts so much heart and soul into each piece of ass that it takes him a full day to recover from it. You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm way ahead of you. Thursday will be the final workout. The coaches will make their decision Thursday night. Could you arrange for me to meet this minx, say Wednesday night?"
"I'll try. Where do you want him?"
"My place. Eight o'clock at night."
"Where's your husband?"
"I sent him off to a hotel until this thing is over. I can't sleep next to a naked man and not be allowed to kiss and touch his body."
"Have you ever seen Jackson?"
"Nope."
"Good. I'll tell him Martin Wilson wants to see him. He's one of the Laker owners but Jackson hasn't had a chance to meet him because Wilson's been in Europe for the past six months."
"Okay, and who am I, Wilson's wife."
"No, no, Jackson wouldn't go for that. He's a very religious cat."
"Who do I say I am?"
"His daughter, Helen. She's a good-looking blonde about your age and the most talked-about nymphomaniac in the league. Her old man bought a piece of the club just so she would have a reason to hang around the team. She's completely wacko for basketball players, so I'm sure Jackson knows all about her. I asked her for a date once, and she said she'd see me in a week when she had recovered. I asked her what from, and she said she had just realized a life-long goal. In less than a week she had made it with every NBA All-Star, both divisions."
"Well, if Jackson's heard of her, I shouldn't have much trouble getting him in the mood. She sounds like a status symbol for rookies."
"She is, but it still won't be that easy. I'll give you a call about nine o'clock. You tell him it's your father, and he can't make it. At least that will give you a clear shot at him."
"Norman, you're a dream," Dolly said, giving him a big kiss. "What can I do to repay you?"
"Come home with me after work tonight. I've been having wet dreams about you."
"I'd love to, but I can't. I'm having my period."
"I failed biology three times in college, so this might sound like a silly question, but how can menstruation knock a woman's mouth out of commission?"
"I'd be miserable company. I'm such a bitch during this time, Richard won't even let me talk to him."
"Well, how about, uh, just a quiet dinner somewhere?"
"No sex?" she asked in disbelief. "No sex," he answered in a very low tone. "What was that? I didn't hear you."
"I said, no sex!"
"Why, Norman," she teased, "I believe you're smitten with me."
"Maybe," he said, looking away.
"Hey, Johnny, did you hear what the world famous Norman Ginsberg just said to little ole me?" She winked at him.
"Yeah, I heard," Johnny said, wiping the bar near their table. He had hung on to every word, but didn't think Dolly's flippant attitude was very funny.
"Norman, you can have your pick of any girl in town. You don't care anything about me. You just like the way I suck cock."
"Don't talk like that."
Dolly hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Oh, shit! I can't believe you said that."
"Listen, Dolly, don't make fun of me. All right, so I'm out of line. I'm just a trick to you. Tricks can never be anything but tricks, and when they try, they blow every fuse in the joint. I'm aware of that, and who I am, and who you are." He looked into her eyes with a cold, intense glare. "But don't you ever tell me I don't care about you. And don't you ever make fun of me for it. No woman in this world has so many admirers that she can afford to put them down for liking her."
After a pause Dolly leaned over and kissed him. "I'm sorry, Norman. I really thought you were making fun of me.
"Okay, fella. Outside!" Dick Horton towered over Norman and his wife like a giant thundercloud, and his eyes smoldered like burning coals.
"Go away, mister," Norman responded. "You're making too much noise."
"You heard what I said, mother-fucker! Hit the pavement!"
"And you, no doubt, heard me, ass-hole! Take a walk!"
"Okay, dip-shit, if that's the way you want it," Dick said, pulling him out of the chair by his lapels. "I'm going to drop-kick your butt all the way to the water!"
Norman pulled a blackjack out of his hip pocket. "Tell me about it, cocksucker! That is if you have any face left to talk through!"
Dolly pushed her way between the two men. "That's all! Sit down! Both of you!"
"Who the hell is this guy?" both men asked in unison.
"Norman, meet my husband. Dick, say hello to the best friend you have in this world right now."
"If he's my best friend, how come I don't know about it?"
"Because you don't have enough goddamn sense to ask a question before you show your ass, that's why! NOW SIT DOWN!" The men dropped sullenly into chairs. "Dick, this is Norman Ginsberg, the television star."
"Big fucking deal."
"And he knows the Laker owners, and he has offered to try to help you make the team."
"You mean he's trying to help himself make you, don't you? Tell me, bigshot, who are the Laker owners?"
"Ryan, Meyers, O'Conner and Wilson."
Dick's jaw dropped slightly open and he swallowed hard. "Whatcha drinking, Norman?"
"Martinis."
"John, another round please. Look, I'm sorry, man, but I'm ... well, I'm pretty jealous, and when I came in I saw you two and ... went ... I apologize."
"Forget it. If Dolly were my wife, I'd probably do the same thing."
"What did you mean by that?"
"He didn't mean anything, Richard. Goddamn, you're dense tonight."
"All right, all right, but how can he help me?"
"I've been trying to give you a boost in the front office. Told them I've known you for a long time and all that good shit. The word came back was that you're doing a great job, but Jackson seems to have a slight edge in the coaches' minds in the area of endurance."
"They're right. Chucker's stronger than I am."
"Okay, so we're going to have to make him weaker for the workout on Thursday. You're going to have to play your balls off, and he's going to have to look bad, and that's all there is to it."
"And how do we go about that?"
"Dolly could keep him up late the night before. I can arrange it."
"Dick, I told him you wouldn't go for it," Dolly said.
"I don't know," Dick said. "It might work."
"Then you don't mind?" she asked.
"Honey, all our marbles are riding on this one day. If I bomb out, I'm going to have to get a job climbing telephone poles. Chucker loves the women, there's no doubt of that. The other day I asked him how he developed such an accurate hook shot, and he tells me he pretends the hoop is a great big pussy. Swish. 'That's all there is to it, man. I jist lob my ball up at that mutherfuckin' hole and swish! Two points, Jack.' He told me he sent the president of the NBA a letter requesting they put black fur around the hoop instead of net."
"You better keep your eye on him," said Norman, laughing. "Before you know it, hell be rubbing the ball down with fish oil."
"Yeah. Dolly, would you be willing to go out with him?"
"If you want me to."
"Fine, it's all settled." Dick got up and shook hands with Norman. "Nice meeting you, Norman. Thanks for everything."
"Don't mention it, Dick. Good luck."
Dolly walked outside with Dick, and he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Dick, what if he gets fresh?"
"Norman?"
"No, Chucker Jackson."
"You know he's going to make a pass at you."
"What do I do then?"
"What can I say? You know how important it is. Do what you have to do." He snickered nervously. "You know, it's like if a guy slips into your kitchen and swipes a slice of bread. It's no big thing really, unless you catch him at it. What's a slice of bread, one way or the other?"
"We're not talking about bread. I think meat is the issue."
"No, bread is the issue. Money. Without it there is no meat or potatoes or anything. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Going to the apartment?"
"Naw, I think I'll go back to the hotel. I don't think I'll have any trouble sleeping, now that I've heard the good news."
"Good night," she said.
"Good night, dear," he said and walked away.
Suddenly Dolly was very cold. It was more than the cool California night air. She was cold inside where she lived. The marrow in her bones seemed to be gradually freezing.
Anything you say, sweetheart, she thought. You'll get the job, but it won't come cheap. I hope you've got enough emotional bread to cover it.
Looking like an acid-inspired version of the painting Blue Boy, Billy Black, wearing a powder-blue silk suit and a pale yellow ruffled shirt, strutted past Dolly with a gait that suggested he had taken walking lessons from God. He stood at the door, glanced back at her, panned her slowly from toes to nose, said, "Bitchin', " gave her a half smile and walked in.
"Hey!"
He came back outside. "Were you addressing me."
"Yeah, you're Billy Black, aren't you."
"That's correct. How did you know."
"I don't know, I sensed it, I suppose."
"What's your name?"
"It doesn't matter. I haven't got any room for you right m now.
"I didn't ask for the key to your lunch box. I simply asked you for your name."
"It's Dolly."
" 'Tis a pity you're such a wise-ass, my dear, because you really look bitchin'. "
"And you certainly live up-to your publicity, Mr. Black."
"Thank you. What a shame that we shall never again speak to one another. You might have been a decent fuck. Good day." Billy tipped his matching top hat and walked back inside and up to the bar.
"My good man," he said to John, "I wish to speak with the proprietor." A tinge of W.C. Fields had slipped into Billy's accent while he was talking to Dolly and he left it in.
"So talk, Billy. What's on your ... Jesus Christ! Where did you get those threads, love?"
"Don't waste your endearing language on me, my gay caballero. Fetch me your better half, Stanley Straightarrow."
"Just a minute. He's asleep. I'll get him. You're just too fucking much, Billy. Somebody's going to put you away one of these days and throw away the key."
"Ah, but you'll find it and come to my rescue, won't you my sweet-lipped friend?"
"You can bet your banana on that. And if you keep dressing so pretty, you better not let me catch you sleeping with your mouth open."
"You may share my hammock with me anytime, my boy. You can peel the grapes, and I'll recite Spencer's Faerie Queen. I know it by heart."
John raced into the back room, cackling like a chicken and woke his brother. "I've got a present for you, Nick. Hurry up."
Nick staggered through the curtain, rubbing his eyes. He looked at Billy, and it took a few seconds for his brain to register what he saw. "Oh, boy," he said facetiously, "just what I've always wanted."
"Suh," Billy drawled, switching to the accent of a deep Southerner, "I'm heah to avenge my honah."
"What's you problem, Colonel?"
"It has been called to my attention that you are nothin' but a lowly, crawlin', slimy, prick-lickin', two-bit sneak thief."
"I'm glad you didn't hear any of the bad things they are saying about me."
Billy took out a velvet glove. "No jokes, please. This is serious traditional business we are conductin'. "
"Oh, sorry. Do continue."
"Nicholas Mykonos, I considah yoh stealin' two thousand dollahs from my woman an act of total depravity, and I hea' by challenge you to a doo-ell." He slapped Nick across the face with the glove, and he crashed back into the back bar.
"You son of a bitch! What the shit have you got in that thing?"
Billy smiled sheepishly. "A roll of quarters."
"Oh, that's funny. That's very funny, you cocksucker!" Nick smashed a bottle against the bar and climbed up on the surface. "I'm going to cut your nuts out!"
"Twice in one week?"
Nick glared at him for a moment with the bottle cocked back behind his head, then flung it against the wall. The crash broke the tension and Nick laughed. "How did you find out?"
"The car, stupid. You're too flashy for this line of work."
"You serious about the duel."
"You betchum, Red Rider."
"Guns or knives?"
"Okay, I'll take a gun, and you take a knife."
"You just farting around with me or what ... what do you want?"
"I want a piece of your ass, that's what."
"Okay, when and where?"
"Tomorrow at high noon, near the pier. And bring your book."
"What book?"
Billy plopped a small red leather-bound volume on the bar. "Your address book. Winner takes all."
"You serious?"
"Dead serious. You trying to crawl out of it."
"Oh, no. In fact I'm going to mass tonight to thank God for the opportunity to break your fucking neck."
"You'd best pray for your immortal soul, my son."
"What are the rules?"
"The formal dress will be swim trunks. No shirt and no shoes. No weapons, but anything goes: kicking, biting, pinching, hair-pulling, eye-gouging; you name it, it's legal."
John picked up Billy's book. "And I'll hold the books," he said excitedly.
Billy tipped his hat to Nick. "Until the morrow, Mr. Mykonos. I congratulate you on yoh gentlemanly demeanah while we discussed this mattah."
Nick bowed to Billy. "Yes, Mr. Black, until tomorrow. Enjoy the morning, sir. You might not see another for a long, long time."
"Are you two really going to fight tomorrow?" Dolly asked.
"That's what the man said," said Nick.
"I've got something to throw into the pot," she said.
"What?"
"Me, for twenty-four hours." Norman choked on his drink.
"Surely you jest, my dear," Billy said. "Would Sir Lancelot soil his hands on a maid of the tavern? Good night, everybody." Billy swaggered out the door.
The bar was very quiet. Billy had the power to take all the vitality out of a room when he left it. "Can you dig the nerve of the son of a bitch?" Dolly said to Nick.
"All drinks are on the house, everybody!" John yelled. "We're going to have a party!"
"Damn!" Irish Bob said, easing into the big bamboo chair in his living room. "My tush hurts. Got too much sun."
"What's a tush?" Laurie asked.
"Tush is Jewish for butt. I didn't think I was out there long enough to get burned."
Laurie knelt beside him and kissed his hand. "You were a tiger when I swam back," she said, beaming. "I don't think anyone ever screwed me that long before. I can barely walk, and certainly not very straight."
"You going home in the morning?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Who knows, the folks may have even noticed I'm gone by now."
"I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too. I know it hasn't been much fun for you the way I've been making a fool of myself over Billy Black, but that's all over now. I'll come down and see you from time to time if you like."
"I'd like."
The door bell rang and Irish Bob answered it. Billy Black stuck his foot in the door. "Hey, Bob, what's happening."
"Not much. Now that's what I call a blue suit."
"Like it."
"No."
"Sorry about that." He pushed his head past Irish Bob. "Hey, baby," he said to Laurie, "Let's go."
"Where?" she asked. "Home, that's where. I'm hungry."
"Well, I'm not. I'm very comfortable here, thank you."
"I said come on. NOW!"
Laurie grabbed her purse and coat and walked to the door. She didn't want to look at Irish Bob, but he blocked her way and she had to. "May I pass, please?" she said.
He looked at her for a moment, and then let her go by. "I'm sure glad things aren't all over between you two."
"What did he mean by that?" Billy asked.
"Nothing," she said as Irish Bob closed the door.
"What's a dumb shit like that know, anyway? I don't approve of your seeing him."
"Well, please tell me, great white father, just what the hell do you expect?"
"Not much, just exactly what I tell you."
"Fuck you."
Laurie didn't even see the blow coming. She was flat on her face on the sand before she knew what had hit her. Sitting up, she spat out a mouthful of sand which had become bloodied from the cut on the inside of her mouth. She crawled a bit on all fours, determined not to show any emotion; but Billy sat beside her and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, baby, I shouldn't have done that." She broke into tears. "Now, now, don't cry. I called some friends to meet us at the house. We're going to have a party. Here, I'll kiss away the pain." Billy gently licked the blood from her lip and kissed her with great tenderness. Laurie felt herself going out to him. All of a sudden she became very dizzy, and she could feel her heart thump under her breast.
She pulled away from his hungry mouth and looked out at the ocean. "I think I like you better the other way."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know. There's something ... urgent about you. I like the communication, but I don't think I like what you're communicating. I think I like you better when you're doing your thing."
There was a long pause, and Billy looked down at the sand, scooped up a handful, and watched the grains flutter through his fingers back to earth. "Why is it that everybody in this universe can have a serious moment and gel away with it? Everybody, that is, except Billy Black?"
"Do I detect a slight chink in this paragon's armor?" Laurie asked in complete amazement.
"Yeth," Billy answered without smiling, letting a big glob of spittle run out of his mouth, over his chin and onto his twenty-dollar shirt. They both laughed, Billy grabbed
Laurie's hand and they ran to his house.
Billy Black had a shower in his house that was as big as a small bedroom. A hidden color wheel indirectly flooded the room with soft, ever-changing light. There was also piped-in music and one of the large tile panels rotated into the wall, revealing a complete bar stock on the other side. Billy's shower sported twelve heads; and when he and Laurie stepped inside, they were casually greeted by thirteen party guests. They all greeted their host and his girl cheerfully, splashing water on them and soaping their private parts as they passed.
"Sorry we're late," Billy said, "but you bums weren't very shy about starting the party without me."
"Oh, we haven't started yet," said one of the men. He was being eaten by a girl who sat at his feet.
Laurie had often thought of what group sex would be like, in her fantasies, but to have it thrust upon her full blast just by opening a door was too much for her to absorb all at once. Suddenly she was hit by stage fright, and not only did she not know what to do with her hands, she didn't know what to do with any of the rest of her.
"Hi, there," said a young, athletic male, who stepped in front of her. A soapy, roaring hard-on protruded from his groin and when he stepped forward to make contact with her, she backed into another soapy, roaring hard-on and screamed.
"Trick or treat," said the voice behind her, and its owner bent his knees slightly and drove his cock into her ass. No sooner had that happened, startling her nearly out of her wits, than the other fellow drove his weapon into her pussy. The men then each fucked his own passageway, rocking the girl back and forth between them, sometimes lifting her by the ribs and armpits to get a longer thrust. Gradually they built towards climaxes and hit them without uttering a sound. Laurie clung to the man in front of her, but he didn't respond. The newness of the situation and the intensity of the sensation excited her towards a quick climax, but as she was about to hit it, she got an even bigger surprise. As soon as she began to moan, the men, having had their pleasure, nonchalantly withdrew with nary a "thank you" or "goodbye", leaving the poor girl standing there, with her eyes rolling around aimlessly in their sockets. Infuriated, she started to finish the job by hand, when another strange voice said, "Here, let me do that for you." She thought it was a man speaking; but when she looked down at the face pressed against her anxious cunt, it was that of a short-haired, stockily-built woman, who sucked her off neatly with a minimum of time and effort.
"Anybody seen the Pink Lady?" asked Billy Black. "She said she'd be here tonight."
"Don't hold your breath, Billy," said an unidentified voice. "She's dead. The lifeguard found her this morning on the beach." x "That's a shame," Billy said with no emotion. "She was a nice person." Laurie collapsed into a yoga position on the floor and wept softly. "How did it happen?" Billy asked.
"Nobody knows for sure. She was naked, so naturally the papers picked up on the sex fiend slant; but there weren't any marks on her. Doesn't sound like rape, huh?"
"Naw," Billy said, "she wasn't raped. She danced herself to death."
"What's that?"
"It Isn't important. Hey, children, let's get out of here and have some fun. Anyone bring a rubber sheet."
"I did," chirped a woman.
"Good. Let's go play Golden Showers. That's always a good way to start a party."
Everybody filed out of the shower except Billy and
Laurie, who didn't move from the tile floor. Billy flipped out the bar and downed a couple of straight shots. Laurie bawled. "What's the matter, kid?"
"Billy, she's dead. That ... that beautiful woman died, just like that. Doesn't that hurt you when someone beautiful dies?"
"Can't say that it does. Hey, everybody dies. It's as easy as falling off a log. Come on, let's join the party."
"I think I'll wait here for awhile."
"Suit yourself." He left.
Laurie recreated every moment of her encounter with the Pink Lady, and the more she thought about it, the more she cried. She closed her eyes and envisioned the woman making love to her. When she opened them again, she saw a dark form in the corner of the shower. Her body crawled with goose flesh, and she set what was probably the all-time world's record for shower leaving.
More people had arrived, and smoking, fucking, drinking, sucking, laughing bodies were strewn all over the house. Laurie stepped over them, looking for Billy, pausing once in awhile when a new twist caught her attention. Hands reached up from the floor and touched her throughout her journey. They were not warm hands. They were cold and clammy on her flesh, like the hands of the dead, trying to pull her down from the living.
She finally found Billy upstairs in bed. It hadn't occurred to her to ask what Golden Showers were, but it became very apparent to her when she saw Billy and his six (or was it sick? she thought) friends chug-a-lugging beer and spraying one another about the face and shoulders with urine.
Billy trained his stream at Laurie, and she jumped back and brushed away the few drops that hit her stomach.
"Come join us," he said wiping his eyes with a towel. "Thanks, but no thanks."
"I know, you're waiting for the real excitement to begin. We're going into the leather scene in a few minutes. You'll love that."
"What's a leather scene?"
"You know, the S&M bag: whips, belts, brass knucks. Anything interesting going on downstairs?"
"That depends on your definition of the word. There's a couple fucking in the kitchen with their tongues stuck to the freezing compartment in the refrigerator."
"Yeah, that's kinda nutty."
Laurie started dressing. "I hate to be a party pooper, but I have to go."
"Why? We're just getting started! You don't want to miss all the excitement, do you?"
"I think I've had just about all the excitement anyone could stand for one evening."
"Don't go. I haven't done anything to turn you off, have I?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. Let's just say I want to see my folks. I've been gone too long. Much too long."
"Now, that you know where we are, don't make a stranger of yourself."
The walls began to close in on Laurie. She bolted down the stairs, tripped over a loving couple in the living room and sprinted out the door. If it had been locked, she probably would have run right through it.
Billy watched her run down the Speedway from the balcony off his bedroom. When she was out of sight, he returned to his friends. "I thought she'd never leave," he said. "Come on, everybody. Get dressed and I'll get the scrabble sets."
"I don't want to play scrabble," protested one of the girls. "You cheat."
"Of course, that's why I always win."
"Well, I want to play bridge!"
"When the party's at your house, well play bridge. But this isn't your house, and this isn't your party, so we're going to play scrabble, and that's that!"