Chapter 5
Dear Diary, Last night I had the most wonderful time at a club in Manhattan called Atrocity. It was in a bad neighborhood in the meat packing district, so, naturally, I wasn't thrilled about going. But Jean-Claude knew everyone, and I-along with Billy and Lilac Veracruz-didn't even have to stand in the long line of people waiting to get in. Jean-Claude has clout. Of course, there was no shortage of compliments for Lilac ("Loved your last picture, Ms. Veracruz"; "You look even more radiant in person "; "I've seen every movie you've ever made. Can I have an autograph ? ") Blah, blah, blah.
Why is a mere signature so important to people?
"Well," she obliged grudgingly, "okay, but just one. I'm here to have a good time, just like you-not to sign my name on matchbooks and napkins all evening."
Inside the club, it looked like a bomb had just blown up the place. Billy explained that it was a "theme club," and was intentionally designed to resemble a shell-shocked building in Bosnia. That, I thought, seemed in especially bad taste. But no one else in the club seemed to care about the decor.
The DJ really had me rocking. After a few too many Sea breezes, I was feeling my oats. I grabbed Billy and pulled him to the dance floor. Lilac and Jean-Claude joined us. All around us were famous people and wannabes. There were gorgeous men in mesh tank tops to show off their glistening, hairless chests; there were women wearing see-through plastic party dresses.
We left about four A.M., piled into Jean-Claude's limo and headed for our homes. What a night!
"He's coming when?" Sally Ann asked incredulously.
"He said a week or two, whenever he can get someone to cover for him at his job," Josette said. She saw the fallen expression on Sally Ann's face. "Hon, let's face it. You've moved on to a different aspect of your life that Freddy would never understand. He's holding out for the nice white house with the picket fence and two-point-three children. If I may be blunt, Sally Ann, it's not as if you've really missed him while you've been in the city."
"Where's he gonna stay?" Sally asked. "There's hardly enough room here to put me up, let alone another person."
"Someone you're not sexually attracted to anymore," Josette interjected.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Sally Ann thought. Just when things were going so well. She was meeting people who were doing things-important things-with their lives. Last night had been especially fun. When they left Atrocity and piled into the waiting limo, Jean-Claude had already made sure the champagne was waiting. There was even a small television in the back seat with a VCR that was showing X-rated flicks.
"C'mon, everyone, indulge!" Jean-Claude demanded. He already had one hand up Lilac's little black party dress. She'd worn no underwear, making access to her "golden treasure" easy for Jean-Claude.
Billy reached for Sally Ann, who drew back. "Don't you think this is a little, well, kinky? I mean, Lilac's a client, Jean-Claude's my boss. I wouldn't want to put either of us in jeopardy-"
"This is gonna clinch the deal," Billy predicted. "Don't you see, Sally Ann? If they feel comfortable enough having sex in front of people they hardly know, well, that just demonstrates their trust in us-especially me-since I'm the one handling Lilac's financial affairs."
And sexual affairs too, I'm sure, thought Sally Ann. By this time, Jean-Claude had taken the bottle of champagne from its cooler, holding the long-necked bottle to Lilac's cunt.
"It's so cold, darling. Please take it away."
But Jean-Claude was not to be dissuaded. "There's plenty of ice if we need more." He observed Sally Ann and Billy. "Hey, how come you two are sitting there like a pair of pet rocks? Surely you're not inhibited because of us? Don't be. We do this all the time-fuck and suck in the back of the limo. Old Butchie, the driver, doesn't mind, do you?"
"Old Butchie," who deserved his moniker, since he must have been seventy at the least, was philosophical. "I don't mind as long as I don't have to clean up any soiled clothes in the back seat or the cum stains on the upholstery. At my age, I have seen and heard about everything. Now, whether you want me to see the action is another matter. That's why there's a black velvet curtain divider between the front seat and the back. I don't need to see what the loving couples don't want me to see." Jean-Claude pulled the velvet curtain closed.
Meanwhile, Jean-Claude and Lilac were really going at it. The one-piece dress (which, Sally Ann thought looked more like a satin slip) had been slipped off by Jean-Claude's dexterous, probing hands. Her perfectly rounded tips begged for some tongue action, which was exactly when she got. His lips were glued to those breasts like a baby's mouth to a pacifier. The back seat was beginning to waft with the odor of sexual heat. Lilac, now fully naked, straddled Jean-Claude and proceeded to ride, ride, ride-like she was on a bucking bronco. Each time the limo would hit a pothole or make a sudden stop, the lurching sent Jean-Claude's prick further into the luscious recesses of Lilac's cunt.
"Mmmmm," she moaned. "No one ever does me like you, Jean-Claude. You know how to make a woman cum until she is wrung dry."
Despite the live sex show in the limo, Billy and Sally Ann still hadn't gotten into the scene.
"What's wrong with you?" Billy asked Sally Ann. "Don't you find me attractive anymore?"
Sally Ann looked into his liquid blue eyes. "Sweetie, that's the furthest thing from my mind. It just seems like whenever we meet, it's always on a train or a limo. I wish we could just have sex someplace normal, like your apartment, if I ever got an invitation. Then, I wouldn't be so inhibited, you would be in your own place, and we could just fuck ourselves silly. See, I'm not really interested in having strangers watch me have sex. It's all those Ohio moral principles I grew up with, I guess."
"Well, a private rendezvous could definitely be arranged," Billy said. Then, he tapped Jean-Claude lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to go home now. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow's Sunday," Lilac said, still astride Jean-Claude. No one works on Sunday."
"Not true, my love. There's work and there's work."
Lilac laughed in spite of herself. "Then, I guess we're all putting in overtime tonight!"
Actually, Billy did have a lot of real work to attend to on Sunday-most of it related to the Swiss bank account Lilac intended to use to deposit her salary from her last movie, Scruples Be Damned! With a budget of nearly thirty-five million dollars, Scruples Be Damned! was by far the most expensive film in which she'd ever been cast. It starred Dorian Prescot, Donna Seduto and Rachel Brisbaine-three up-and-comers. Sally Ann felt a twinge of envy.
The limo stopped in front of Lilac's swanky penthouse, and she and Jean-Claude got out. As soon as they were gone, Billy pulled back the heavy black velvet curtain separating them from
"Old Butchie."
"Um, we've had a slight change of plans," Billy explained. "I'd like you to drop us off at my place-one-ten Gramercy Park; thank you."
Old Butchie was not unaccustomed a "changes of plans," and expediently got Sally Ann and Billy to their destination.
"They're gonna hate us for cutting out on them," Sally Ann said. "I mean, the guy's my boss."
"Just tell him you had a busy day and could barely keep your eyes open."
Sally gasped audibly when the limo pulled up in front of a stunning turn-of-the-century brownstone. Two knights in armor flanked the front door. "You mean to tell me this actually was someone's house at one point?" she asked Billy.
"As Manhattan grew, so did the neighborhoods," he said, giving her a thumbnail history of Gramercy Park. "Whereas, once Fourteenth Street and its park was where the rich flaunted their opulence, by 1900, Gramercy Park-known initially as a colony of sorts for well-to-do writers and painters-took its place. See that little tavern over there?"
Sally Ann nodded.
"That's where O. Henry wrote The Gift of the Magi."
Once inside the foyer, the doorman greeted Billy with a bright smile. "Did you have a nice evening, Sir?"
"Marvelous, Niles."
Niles looked Sally Ann up and down appraisingly. "Obviously so, sir. Obviously so. Well, have a lovely night. The stars are out; tomorrow's going to be a stunning day if the two of you feel like getting up." He winked at Billy as the elevator door opened, and Sally Ann and Billy got in. He began kissing her rapturously. She pulled away, afraid the door would open and someone would see them clinched together like magnet and steel.
"What floor do you live on?"
"The top," Billy said. "And wait until you see Gramercy Park at night from my balcony. Only those residents who live immediately around the park have keys to gain entrance. It's considered to be the best maintained park in Manhattan-even though it's nowhere on the scale of Central Park. Enough history lessons. Here we are."
Sally Ann was beginning to think she'd been blessed by meeting so many wealthy men with stunning apartments. Billy's was not at all like James's, the man whom she'd met on the subway. The space alone was like a very large dance studio, with plush Middle Eastern rugs. In fact, the whole domain had an other-worldly quality to it.
"The chandelier is from a Louis XVI palace in France," he noted. "But I prefer candles; there's something about them that stirs me up. Just like you do, Sally Ann."
He led her to the master bedroom, where she gasped at the enormity of the bed.
"Hundreds of years ago, royalty believed the size of one's bed determined wealth and power and-perhaps most importantly-the wife's ability to provide heirs for the king."
"You could put my home town in that bed," Sally Ann giggled, the alcohol taking its effect and making her feel horny. She crashed onto it, kicking off her spike-heeled, black shoes.
"How about a good foot massage, sweetheart?" Billy suggested, "Let me pamper those peds."
"Sounds divine, Billy."
He retreated into the master bath and came back moments later with a towel and what looked to be a crystal container of exotic oil of some kind. As he removed the stopper, the room was flooded with the aroma of eucalyptus, sage, patchouli, jasmine and other scents she didn't recognize. He lay her out on the spacious bed vertically, put the towel under her feet, and set out to give her what he'd promised. As soon as his hands made contact with her flesh, she closed her eyes and moaned.
"Oh, Billy. Oh, Billy," she repeated. He applied a small amount to her feet, rubbing the oil between her toes, pulling them gently, sensuously. Although it tickled at first, the oil he applied to her arches and the way that he massaged them transported Sally Ann to a state of nirvana. All the years of dancing had taken their toll on her feet. Often, after class, she'd take a hot bath, but she had never experienced anything like this.
"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Billy said, glancing up at Sally Ann shyly. "Feet are my favorite part of the female body. You must think I'm a complete freak, but feet do it for me like nothing else-especially ones as muscular and well-developed as yours. I especially like to smell a woman's feet and stockings after she's been wearing heels all day. That funky, fetid odor gets my dick hard as a rock."
"Billy, darling, you don't have to explain. Just do it. I can't tell you how good this feels. Now, go a little higher."
Obeying submissively, he worked on her tight, muscular calves.
"I could bounce a quarter off them," he laughed. "I'd love to see you dance some day, Sally Ann. And while you were doing your plies turns, I'd stare at your calves obsessively, imagining my tongue traveling the length of them to that wonderful erogenous place right behind the knee."
Sally Ann was getting into the fantasy. Billy's big hands kneaded her calve muscles deeply with the oil. He reached for her panty line and pulled the lacy garment off of her.
"Mmmmm, lover, take it further," she urged him.
It was all the encouragement Billy needed. Before he applied more oil to Sally Ann's already-moist pussy, he shoved a silk pillow under her buttocks, pried open her legs and dropped his head into her squish.
"AAAAAAEEEEE!" she screamed.
"That's one good thing about living on the top floor," Billy told her. "You can carry on as much at you want; no one will hear." He observed her objectively for a moment. "I fear I may be falling in love with you. I just wanted to get that out, because tonight I want to fuck you and eat you like an entree at a four-star restaurant. I don't want you to feel you have to reciprocate, Sally Ann. You don't have to tell me anything you don't mean just because I'm attracted so very much to you."
And with that, he returned to his cunt-lapping.
Her little blonde muff was dusted with hair, making it amazingly easy for him to lick her insides without getting a mouthful of pubic hair.
"Do you shave, Sally Ann? Your cunt's so, well, almost hairless."
She laughed. "Never had any complaints. Freddy, my boyfriend back in Ohio, used to say I had the mind of a dirty old lady and the pussy of a virgin."
Billy came up for air. "And the aroma.. .I can't describe it, so just let me taste it." As he slurped her labia, she diddled her clit.
"Sally Ann, don't cum yet," Billy pleaded. "Let's take our time. When I'm eating you out, tell me what you like the best."
"Oh, that's easy, Billy," she replied without hesitation. "I love it when you pull my labia apart, lick inside their folds, and then suck on my clit. I mean, really suck! And not just for a few seconds. Men who've truly aroused me see my pussy as sacred, and treat it that way.
"And Billy, just so you know, I get a hell of a lot of pleasure from having my toes sucked as well. In many ways, we were made for each other."
As soon as she mentioned her feet, Billy was on top of them post haste. His tongue sawed between each of her ten toes, not at all minding the corns and calluses she'd acquired from so many years studying ballet. Billy could taste the oil he'd put on her feet, and it intoxicated him. Still, nothing could beat the taste of her cunt, and he worked diligently back up to her nether regions.
"Fuck me with your tongue, baby," she demanded. "Then go way up inside and eat me out. Let my cum saturate your chin. Kiss me passionately, so I can taste the aroma of my cum and the exotic oils. And while you're doing that, let me diddle my little man in the boat."
In all the years he'd lived in New York, Billy-who'd had had his share of a variety of women-had never met anyone as wild as the beautiful blonde stretched out before him. Even those women free-minded enough to understand his taste for feet never seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. Now, however, he'd met his match with this not-so-naive young woman from Ohio.
Billy stood and removed his clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor-the Bill Blass shirt, the Armani tie, the Perry Ellis trousers, the Calvin Klein blazer. Sally Ann watched him remove each article with the awareness that clothes did make the man-at least to a certain degree. But, truth be told, he might as well be wearing torn blue jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and scuffed-up work boots; there was a quality about Billy she found irresistible.
Just as he was pulling down his briefs, Sally Ann motioned for Billy to come to the bed. "Stand in front of me," she instructed. "Grab me by my hair and tell me to 'eat that cock, bitch! Suck it like a lollipop, and when I cum, make me eat every drop.'"
Sally Ann began by putting the cotton boxers-tented out by his erection-in her mouth. Billy thought it an odd sensation: sucking his dick through fabric. But then, as if his cock had a mind of its own, his prick popped out through the fly and her mouth was filled with the tumescent penis she'd so enjoyed on the Amtrak.
"Are you okay, love?" Billy inquired. "Do you like what we're doing?"
She could only nod, her mouth fully occupied with prick. She did her best to deep-throat him, and, after several attempts and urging on Billy's part, she got that fat fucker all the way down.
"Just hold it there like that, Sally Ann," he commanded. Breathe through your nose. Let the cock rest in the back of your throat."
Once he felt she was comfortable with the task at hand, he took her long, blonde mane and used her hair to gently feed her his dick.
"Ohhh, my gosh! That feels terrific! Sally Ann, you've got skills you don't even know about."
After some time, Billy removed his cock with a loud "POP!" and smeared the pre-cum over her lips. The oil, on the bedside table, beckoned, and Billy told his lover to turn over on her back.
"Why?"
"Because now you're gonna get the royal treatment."
"What's that?"
Just as she asked, she felt cool dollops of the fragrant oil upon her backside, from the backs of her thighs to her buttocks and back, and finally the nape of her neck. Billy gently rubbed the oil into Sally Ann's flawless, well-toned skin. She giggled when he began on her thighs; one of his oily fingers slipped into her gash, and the sudden surprise made her laugh.
"This is so much fun," Sally Ann said.
Billy continued to massage the dollops of exotic oil into his lover. He kneaded her buttocks as if he were kneading bread. Sally Ann's cunt glistened and grew a tempting pink as his massage went deeper and deeper.
"Do it again," Sally asked. "Please, slide a finger up my cunt while you're playing with my butt. Tease me. Find my clitty and pinch it. I love that. Even if I cum, we both know I'm a long-laster."
Who was this Pandora Billy had released from her box? Surely, girls from Ohio were not all like Sally Ann. Now, however, was not the time to ask questions. The oil was completely massaged into her legs and buttocks. All that was left was her shoulders and the nape of her neck. He straddled her for that part of the massage, sitting astride her oil-slicked body. As soon as his hands began their task, she groaned joyously.
"Oooooh, this is so much ecstasy. Much too much. I've never felt so relaxed in my life."
"Those words, Sally Ann, were exactly the words I wanted to hear."
And with that, Sally Ann's pliant, oiled ass was suddenly invaded by Billy's colossal cock.
"AAAAAEEEEEE!" she screamed into the pillow, muffling the initial discomfort.
But it was too late, Billy had made his anal penetration; now, there was no turning back.
Billy kissed the back of her neck lovingly. "My precious, precious darling. You don't know how long I've fantasized about fucking you up the ass."
"But it burns," she protested, struggling against him to remove it.
"Please, honey. Try to relax. I'm not going to hurt you. How could I hurt the woman I love? Get used to the feel of my fleshy cock inside your well-oiled ass-hole."
And it was true. Gradually, Sally Ann's discomfort turned into a new, unexpected feeling. Never before had she felt so consumed, so filled with cock.
"Play with your pussy," Billy urged, "especially your clit. Because I won't be able to hold out long. Anal sex is one of my favorite kinds of sex."
Sally began moving her butt, even while Billy's dick remained motionless. He wanted to be completely comfortable after he fucked her and then came.
"Yeah, yeah. Feels great now!" Sally howled, her butt bouncing up and down on the satin pillows.
"Oh, Sally Ann," Billy begged. "Slow down or you're gonna make me shoot. This is the one thing that gets me off like no other."
"Then, let's both cum together!"
She squeezed her well-developed ass cheeks, releasing them, squeezing them-over and over and over.
"Oh, it's cumming!" Billy screamed. "I can't hold back. Are you playing with your clitty? Come on, Sally Ann! Come on!"
Sally Ann sucked on one of her index fingers. She reached around the man buried in her ass and, with the spit-slimed finger, stuck it right up Billy's ass. That's all it took for his inevitable geyser.
They showered together, got all lathered and clean. Both were so tired they collapsed into a heap on the bed and didn't wake up the next morning until around eleven A.M.
"Shit!" Billy said angrily. "And I had so much to get accomplished today."
He saw the slightly saddened look on Sally Ann's face.
"But that doesn't mean I didn't have a night I'll never forget with you, sweetheart," he qualified. "Don't mind me; I'm just preoccupied with my work."
Sally Ann took one of Billy's oversized blue terry cloth robes and started cooking breakfast. He began to protest.
"I don't cook, so God knows what we're getting ourselves into," she warned him. "But it's pretty hard to ruin scrambled eggs and toast."
Billy smiled. Sally Ann was definitely something special, and he hoped New York didn't eat her alive as he'd watched it do to so many young men and women, eyes clouded with Stardust.
They ate in silence and then Sally Ann cleaned up the kitchen, got dressed, and prepared to leave.
"Next time, let's not make it so long, okay?" Billy asked.
"I promise."
The telegram from Western Union was on the coffee table when Sally arrived back at the carriage house.
Am coming to New York next week STOP. Miss you madly STOP. Can I stay with you? STOP Please want me to come STOP. I miss you STOP .
Sally Ann felt her palms grow sweaty. Freddy? Coming to New York? He'd hate ever minute. And where would he sleep? This wasn't even her apartment. She picked up the phone and dialed Freddy's number. It was Sunday. Surely, he'd be home on a Sunday afternoon. But the phone rang and rang incessantly until the message machine picked up:
Hi, this is Freddy. Sorry I missed your call, but if you 'd kindly leave a message-
My God! Freddy. The last person she wanted to see right now. How was she going to tell him? What would she say? She padded to the kitchen, poured herself some mineral water and sat down at the kitchen table to ponder excuses she might use to dissuade him from comming to New York.
A) She'd fallen off a subway platform and could barely walk.
B) Things weren't working out with Deke and Josette; there was no place for him to stay.
C) Between all her dance classes and her job, there weren't enough hours in the day to take time off to show Freddy Manhattan.
Sally Ann hated lying, but she knew that, sooner or later, she was going to have to break things off with Freddy. She picked up the phone again, this time determined to tell him the truth. His mother, with whom he lived, answered.
"Why, Sally Ann, what a pleasant surprise." Freddy's mom, Martha, was warmly enthusiastic. "How are things working out in New York? Is it like that Liza Minnelli movie, New York, New YorkV
Sally laughed dryly in spite of herself. "Not exactly. Can I talk to Frederick?"
"Well, dear, you just missed him. He wanted to see you so badly, he packed his bags this morning and, as we speak, is on a train to see you. I just know the two of you will have a wonderful time together. Have you seen Cats! Freddy really wants to see Cats."
Sally Ann knew that Freddy was, out of Martha's nine children, her favorite; thus, she sometimes seemed overly protective of him. Even when Freddy and Sally Ann were mere teenagers, she'd felt Martha's eyes on her. Is she judging mel Sally Ann would wonder. Does she think I'm not good enough to marry her pride and joy? It was the classic case of a mother's smothering love preventing the young man from getting on with his life.
But over time, Sally Ann managed to get on Martha's good side. Freddy's father had died in a car accident when he was only three, and it was fortunate that Martha's oldest children were old enough to get jobs and bring in some extra income for the family.
As time passed and Sally Ann and Freddy announced their engagement, Sally Ann's family extended itself to Martha. Now, all the work Sally Ann had put into ingratiating herself with her soon-to-be-mother-in-law seemed for naught. When Freddy returned from New York to Ohio with news that the engagement was off, poor Martha would be devastated. God knows what she 'll think of me, she fretted.
Still, this was her life-not Martha's, not Freddy's. Sally Ann cut the conversation short. She had major decisions to make. But, she thought, maybe it's all for the best. It would have come down to this sooner or later anyway.
She was about to hang up the phone when Martha interjected a final concern.
"Sally Ann, please don't let anything happen to him when he gets there."
"Happen?"
"You know what I mean, dear. He's never been out of Ohio. You've always been more adventurous than he has. I just worry, that's all."
Feeling truly crushed, Sally Ann put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and sighed wearily. Then, collecting her thoughts, she replied: "Martha, please try not to worry about Frederick so much. He's a man now. He's twenty-three and can take care of himself."
There was a conspicuously long pause on the other end of the line.
"Is something wrong, Sally Ann?" Martha asked, concern obvious in her voice. "You'd tell me if there was something wrong."
She suspects! Sally Ann was the world's worst liar. Whenever she tried to stretch the truth, it always seemed to snap back and sting her in the face. She felt herself blushing furiously.
"Martha, nothing's wrong. In fact, I can't wait until he gets here. Freddy and I have a lot to discuss." That was an understatement, but at least it was true.
"All right, dear; I believe you," Martha said unconvincingly. "I'm sure your own mother had the same worries about you going to New York." Martha tried to laugh, but Sally Ann thought it sounded bogus.