I WAS LATE. UNUSUAL for me. And I was in a vile mood. None of these neurotic bastards had better cross me tonight or it would blow the lid off. Good old patient Chris would suddenly become the prick he could be when provoked.
Most of them were there, busy doing nothing as usual. All of them impressing each other with their tales of conquest or achievement during their daily "rounds." All of them a little sick inside as they lied, keeping up the pretense, seeing the lies in others' words, but graciously overlooking them, hoping to receive the same generous understanding.
"Hi, Chris!" Valentina, a busty broad with little talent. I wish she'd stop calling me by my first name. This kind of familiarity burned my ass. The price you pay when you fuck your students. Give them eight inches and they'll take... and so forth.
"Mr. Greene? May I speak to you before class starts?" Bud, the class clown. A charmingly beautiful youngster who was destined to be a juvenile until he passed the half-generation mark. Then, all of a sudden, the face would collapse and he would be a little old man, shocked and terrified with his new image and his problem with adjusting to it. But, right now he was clear-eyed and pixyish.
"What is it, Bud? Make it quick. We're late." Then, as an afterthought, "I'm late." But, the boy didn't bat an eye. After all, Christ (as they called me behind my back) had the right to be late. To listen to them, I had the right to commit murder, rape the First Lady or declare war on England - all of them equally creditable undertakings for one on such a lofty level. Shit! If they only knew!
"Mr. Greene, we want to hold a class in Central Park next week. Is that possible? Y'know, out on the grass? Improvs would be great in that atmosphere. How 'bout it?"
"In the middle of October? I'll speak to you all about it after class. Bring it up again. Remind me." I extracted the clipboard from my bag. When I opened it, it was blank. I had not done a bit of work preparing for this class. But I would fake it, come up with something. I had done it before; would again.
"All right, people. Let's settle down." I gave a quick count. Fourteen present. Who was missing? "Bud, check the list, let me know who's absent tonight." The boy smiled quickly and took up the sheet, standing before the class, checking with authority and pride. I couldn't help but smile. I looked him up and down. Cute kid! Cute little behind on him. That curly hair, almost Afro in cut, those sensual lips. I wonder. Oh, well. I glanced back to the pad, wrote down a couple of notes for reference, then looked up and around the class.
Future stars? Big money at the box office? Or, a future of Tide commercials, soap operas, summer stock, road tours? Why do they do it? Why do they come from all over this pathetic land, a silly, over-exaggerated thrill to come to the Big Town? And, when they get here, what? Grubbing for a few pennies, living in roach-infested lofts, working at soda counters, fucking each other on floors or cots, perhaps once in a while in a plush apartment of an affluent John. And then counting out their dues to the class, letting each bill go with a wistful look, knowing that it would deny them a three-course meal this week, or a film, or a concert, or just a few beers in a singles or faggot joint. Stupid, all of it! But, it would continue long after I'd retired from this somewhat useless profession.
Valentina pouted a smile at me and I refused to return it. Her face was made up like a mask-white and streaked with eyeliner. Her short black hair was matted tight to her face, causing her cheeks to blow out, distorting her good looks. She was good-looking, in a rather big-boned, zaftig way. Much woman, too much woman! But a mean lay. She battered at you as if you were her enemy, her hips slamming you off the bed if you didn't hold on tight, her large pendulous tits flopping from side to side and then up into your face as she sweated beneath you. If only you gave that much energy to your acting, cunt, you "could be a knock-out - on your feet! Oh, well, what the hell!
Next to her, the slick personality kid, Alexander. His hair was now salt-and-pepper. Changed it again. Vain bastard! His face and body were spread all over After Dark and a few fashion mags on the stands. He had the body and the style for it. Made a fortune. Well, at least it was now legitimate. God knows he'd made it on his face long enough. I mean his face in a pillow, not on the cover of a magazine. Most of his first years in town he'd been a prize hustler, one of the best. Bless you, Alex. As the saying goes, if you've got it, flaunt it.
And then there was Roz, the ashen-haired beauty with the tragic face. She'd make it. Damned right she would! And she'd probably die too soon, maybe by her own hand. It was written all over her. Classic body, sum, bony gorgeous-with long Dietrich legs and tapering fingers. Eyes cut out of the oldie film mags - the femme fatale, but for real! I'd get to her one of these days and it would be something to remember. Right, Roz? Her eyes were telling me something and I nodded my head slightly. She smiled.
Lesley, the little dyke, sat in front of her and caught the look. She didn't smile. We had a long-standing battle going on. She hated my guts but, according to other members of the class, she respected me and wanted to be with a winner. So she stayed, her eyes smouldering, her slash for a mouth snarling at me, her masculine hands gripping her-book, waiting for me to call on her (her scene was skipped last session), daring me to call on her.
"All right. Let's get started. Les, we'll hear your scene first, since it was missed last week. Have you worked on it?"
She smirked and glanced around to see who would be impressed with what she had to say. "Yes, sir. I've rehearsed it five times since last week. Brian and I are ready." She stood up, the Levi's stretching tightly across her plump thighs, her tits pushing out at the jersey blouse, bouncing as she jumped through the others to get to the stage area. I smiled and glanced at her partner.
Brian had the now look with a vengeance. Blond curly hair, permanent-waved no doubt to give it an Afro look, beard and sloppy clothing. His manner was casual and diffident as he moved to the stage and sat on the sofa, waiting for the scene to start. This was going to be fun. They couldn't care less whether or not I liked it. They were into their own bag, and I was left out. Well, I could play that game too.
Bud had finished checking and handed the sheet to me with a soft smile. "Four missing, sir. Karen, Jerry, Keith and Bobby."
"Yes, all right. I know about them. Thank you." I folded the sheet and sat back on the stool, prepared to watch the scene. As I did so, my eyes crossed Valentina's again and she looked at me imploringly. I slowly shook my head and she dropped her eyes at my negative reaction. No fucking tonight, Val, baby. I've got a show to catch and a date after. Maybe next time.
"I've told you before and I'll say it again, Chris; don't get involved with the students!" I almost laughed in her bloated face as she stared at me across the desk. Look who's talking! There wasn't a stud safe anywhere on the premises with Christine. Every good-looking young male who entered that door got a going-over which would cause even the most thick-headed of them to grab at his fly to reassure himself that it was indeed cinched tight. She would lick her lips and her heavily made-up eyes would rove over their frames with such naked lust that it would diminish to cinders anything which had the misfortune to cross that look and its object.
And, strangely, she got some of them. Some of the best! Kids who would never look at her with even a casual glance unless she could do something for them. And, she did. She had the money and she dispensed it with queenly largesse. Give her credit.
"Christine, I've been doing this kind of thing most of my professional life. I can handle it."
"You know what I mean."
"I know exactly what you mean and, as the saying goes, people in glass outhouses... " She got the message and flushed, but did not let up on the attack.
"What is it with you? I can't figure out which way you swing. Most of the boys in your class are nuts about you and I mean they would fall on their faces in a minute if you snapped your fingers. As for the girls, I'm sure you've been through most of them by now."
"No, actually, I've barely started." The humor did not amuse her. "Christine, if you think you can do better with someone else... "
"That's not the point and you know it. I have a position here. This is my place and I don't want any trouble."
"Has there been any? I wasn't aware of any trouble."
She flicked her eyes at me and moved her pudgy fingers across the ledger, scribbling the figures and then erasing them with calm fury.
"Don't play games with me, Chris. There can be trouble. I'm trying to avoid it."
"Okay, Christine. I'll keep my hands off the student body - or bodies."
"You're not funny, Chris." She was quiet a moment as she popped chocolate fudge candy into her mouth. When she spoke, her voice was distorted by the sloppy munching on that sweetmeat. "Why make it more difficult than it is? Sometimes I think you hate your job. Not that you're not good at it. I guess you're about the best there is, and I'm sincerely grateful... " She had to pause to toss more into her mouth, the chocolate melting and running down her chin. "Grateful that you stay with me. But what about a vacation?" She swallowed and made a smacking sound. "Go to the coast, or to Europe? How about it? For a few weeks?" Another bonbon.
I laughed and turned my head from her, my stomach a little queasy. She'd rather drop dead on the spot than have me cut out for a vacation for even a few days - let alone a few weeks.
"Com' off it, Christine. Don't play games with me. You'd shit if I agreed to take time off." I paused and she said nothing, masticating the candy, her mouth making squishing noises. She was looking down at the ledger, her black, oily hair dropping across her shoulders, her enormous arms shaking as she hurriedly made the notations. "I'm bored, that's all. Don't you ever get bored?" Superfluous question. She was so bored with her life that it was sometimes difficult to understand why she continued it.
"Of course I get bored. I'm bored with you right now." She leveled a heavily-mascaraed eye on me, licking her lips to sweep up the drooling chocolate. "We've got a full evening ahead of us. So let's drop the subject. I'm so frigging mad that I didn't get to the beauty parlor today. If I had known you wanted to catch this play... But when did you ever prepare me for anything?"
"Christine, I mentioned it over a week ago. You seemed delighted, and I thought you made an appointment for your hair then. Why don't you wear that incredible fright wig? It's a gas!"
She looked at me with fury, her lips pursed to say something. She caught herself and then laughed, a full, open, big laugh, the laugh which delighted people and turned them on to her-before they flipped the coin and saw the other side.
"That's a mess too. Besides, I don't give a damn. They don't like what they see, they don't have to look." She grinned wickedly. "I'll give them something to look at. I'll wear my mink tonight - my fifteen thousand dollar mink coat from my wonderful husband! That'll knock them out! Right?"
Oh, you dear, dear, fat lady. Who in the hell do you think will be at that off-Broadway show who would or could be interested in your ostentatious fur coat? You're not in the suburbs with a mink contest going on every time the broads launch yourselves on the social world.
"Yes, dear, that'll freak their fuzzy heads. Wear it! And with your hair a mess, it'll look like you're too rich to care."
Words she wanted to hear, interspliced with a few she didn't. But, I knew how to talk to her. Should by now.
"Two of your students in this thing?"
"Yes, Keith and Jerry, the blond kid."
She smiled and looked at me out of the side of her eyes.
"He's a doll, isn't he? Beautiful boy." She started to hum as she looked up and down my chest, at the sweat shirt I was wearing and the way it clung to my body with the dampness. "You'd look great together. I'm sure you've thought of it."
I won't play, lady. So, fuck off.
"I understand they're both very good. Some of the other kids have seen it and... "
"Nudity and homosexuality. That's what they say. Should be a... revelation." She worked her red, full lips over the word, making it obscene with its suggestion. "Is Jerry nude in the play?"
"I suppose so. I don't know the details."
A fucking lie. I'd heard about the whole thing. The kid was beautiful, with a fascinating body and perhaps the most outstanding ass I had ever seen. Magnificent perfection if you dug that sort of thing. And, I thought I did once. Probably would again, if the situation presented itself.
Anyway, yes, the kid was nude. In fact he gets raped right onstage in the play. Not really a novelty these days. Keith was also nude, according to the tales from other members of the class. The girls put it down. Why? Keith is handsome too - physical, outspoken, obviously gay and according to gossip, has a big cock. Why shouldn't this turn the chicks off when they knew it would never be theirs? Anyway, how many chicks could tolerate such a play?
"I've got to shower and change, Christine. I left my clothes in the back studio. I'll be right back in a few minutes."
"If you need anyone to scrub your back, just call." She giggled and smiled with that silly, oversized stuffed-doll look. Her eyes fluttered and she looked me up and down as I stood next to the desk. As she slipped another chocolate into her mouth, her beady eyes focussed on my crotch, I involuntarily pushed my hips forward a little. Feast on it, baby. Suffer! It's never going to be yours.
As I walked back towards Studio H and my clothes, I suddenly laughed. Hell, what makes me think things like that? I had been a little vain in my youth. Wasn't everyone? But now? I'm over thirty, have fucked with the best of them - and some of the worst - and I'm not really the greatest-looking male on this planet.
As I stripped off my clothes in the men's room, preparing to shower, I glanced at the full-length mirror to appraise myself, take stock of just what I did have to offer.
What did I see? In case you're interested, I saw a thirty-two-year-old male, Caucasian, five feet, eleven inches tall, trim, slim, with a well-developed body. I had been working out in a gym for at least ten years, was very active in my youth as skier, skater, basketball player and fencer. My legs are well-shaped and almost hairless, with strong calves and full thighs. They are muscular probably due primarily to my fencing in later life. My hips are narrow and, as I turned to view myself on the side and back, I smiled as I saw the curve of my buttocks. My ass is full and shapely, filling tight-fitting pants to reveal the curves and muscles underneath. I never had a problem there.
I turned back into the mirror and reached down to grasp my cock. It was soft and easy now, an unusual state for it. When erect it stretched out a full eight inches. (I had measured it for Valentina one night; she kept a record!) My balls hung loose and full, bouncing against my thighs as I turned. I moved my hands up my hips to feel the flatness of my stomach and abdomen. Not bad for an old man! I always had a good muscle definition there as it spread up into my chest. My pecs are cut clearly and stand out in high relief. My shoulders are broad and tight, sloping into my neck. My face is not outstanding, I noticed, as I turned into the mirror over the skin. My chin is cleft, my mouth perhaps a little too full for my age, my nose straight and almost aquiline. My eyes are deep-set and, I had been told, penetrating-whatever the hell that means. My hair is probably one of my best features. It is dark, ample and streaked with grey at the temples, with one bold streak at the widow's peak directly over my nose. It heightens the sharp look and gives me a more stern appearance than I actually project. But I like that because I can hide behind it. It justifies my moods and at the same time, gives me license to flare up, purely for the theatricality of the moment. I smiled at that, my teeth white and even.
Hey, there! Christopher Greene! Not bad! Not bad at all!
I reached down, grasped my cock again and turned to the full-length mirror.
"Suck on that, Christine, old gal! Circle your fat red lips around it and guzzle a little. You never had it so good!" I started to laugh then and had to turn to throw back the shower curtain. I was beginning to get excited and that would never do. I might even call the old bitch in and give her the thrill of a lifetime just to get my rocks off. Forget it! I'd rather play with myself.
I started to sing while in the shower, lathering all over and gurgling when the hot spray hit my face. Christine and Christopher! The unholy twosome! Fate, I guess. In our own ways, we're both equally lecherous. Funny how that word becomes adaptable when you pass thirty. Before that it was perhaps lusty? Passionate? Sexy? Sensuous? Others? Now, you're lecherous, old man! YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS I AM!
"Oh, say can you see... any hard-on on me?... " I turned back to the cab to assist her - a monumental undertaking, as it was perhaps one of her most appalling projects; ejecting herself from the back seat of a cab. She forced her legs apart, the mink billowing around her, and then reached out one dainty yet stubby hand to me. As she groaned with the effort, she laughed, her face flushing.
"Gawd! They'll never build these things big enough for me."
I refrained from voicing the obvious and braced my feet on the curb to pull her, with much squealing and laughter, out into the street. I was sweating. Just looking at her in that mammoth tent of a mink made me even hotter. Even though it was October, the air was mild. We were both overdressed and I was wishing I had postponed the whole thing - preferably to some night when she could not make it.
"Well! It was a tough fight, mother, but we won." My levity was more for the onlookers than anything else. Several amused, pretty male faces were staring at us. A crowd had gathered in front of the theatre - mostly male, I noticed-and we were, for a change, on time.
She stood there a moment after the cab pulled away, glancing around, conscious of the eyes upon her. She smiled her little-girl smile and, looking down, stepped away from the curb with pretty little feet ensconced in black patent leather shoes and white stockings, an unbelievable contrast to the mink. She waddled after me to the box office where I picked up our reservations. I felt her hand grasp my arm possessively and, without looking at her, I knew she was glancing around again to see who was conscious of her and her "escort." I grimaced inwardly, but tolerated the touch.
We both saw several people we knew and, after wasting time in small talk, we moved to our seats. I had not told Jerry or Keith that I would attend tonight for fear it would affect their performances. So I sat back and tried to relax as the lights came down and the play started.
It wasn't a very good play; probably had something to say originally. The intent was somewhat corrupted due to the excessive violence, nudity and perversion. It had all the sadomasochistic elements for them that wants, plus a little corny boy-meets-girl portion for the aesthetic.
Keith was very good-surprisingly good in fact. Christine murmured audibly when he first came onto the Set. He was a handsome boy with an excellent build and a vibrant personality. He could be a bitch on wheels I had learned in the class, and he was too blatant in his homosexuality. But the bastard was good! Jerry was even better, but perhaps I was prejudiced. Not because he was such an attractive boy but because he seemed totally hopeless when he had begun studying with me. And now he was turning out to be quite the actor. He had more sensitivity than Keith; more subtlety, too.
When the nudity occurred I was not shocked but I was definitely embarrassed. Christine gasped aloud and started to moan slightly in her chair. Several people turned around and I thought I would go through the floor. I nudged her to shut up, but her eyes were glued to the stage, zeroed in on Keith's impressive cock and balls. When he turned upstage, I had to control myself a little. The kid was indeed built, with muscular buttocks which rolled when he moved. He knew what he had and purposely teased the audience with every movement of his body, exquisitely aware of his sexuality.
When the second act rolled around (I had purposely avoided taking a cigarette break in the lobby), I knew I was in for trouble again as this was the act wherein Jerry was not only in the nude, but it was also the one featuring the rape scene. I had only to look at Christine and see her lips quiver and her hands shake as she wiped her brow with a Kleenex, to know that she, too, was anticipating this big moment.
Jerry entered and stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stretched and the towel dropped. Christ! Christine almost dropped her drawers at that moment. She moaned and leaned forward in her seat, glancing to me to see if I had reacted. I purposely kept my eyes still and did not move a muscle.
I was acutely conscious of this boy in my class; conscious of his looks, his sensuality, his figure, particularly that amazing ass of his. But now it was totally revealed to me and I was a little stunned, I must admit! He was sheer perfection.
Keith entered then, coming up behind the boy and touching him. There was preplay and then the rape. I must say it was graphic and entirely convincing.
Everything after that, of course, was anti-climactic (forgive the pun). The play came to its inevitable conclusion - with which I found fault - and the cast got a rousing cheer during the curtain call.
We pushed our way to the lobby and I pressed Christine to hurry with her socializing as I wanted to get away. I had no intention of lingering around to speak to my students. I would do that in class. Besides, Karen was waiting for me at her apartment and I did not intend to prolong that wait.
I cupped the luscious breast in my hand and ran my tongue over the tip. The rosebud slipped into my mouth and I sucked lovingly on it. She gasped and pulled my head tighter, her fingers digging into my scalp. With my other hand, I sought the other breast and then ran my mouth across to that nipple. Tiny slits in it seemed to expand as I sucked on them, the rose-brown flesh hardening, standing up in peaks. Her hips were rolling on the bed as she tried to press herself against me. But I was deliberately holding off, teasing. It would be at my command, not hers. Besides, I liked to make myself suffer, deny myself as long as possible.
I looked up into her flaming face and then relaxed my hold on those exciting tits.
"Your boy was good tonight. Aren't you even going to ask about him, or the play?"
Karen panted against me, her hands moving around my head to cover my mouth. "You fuck! Not now! Why are you doing this to me?"
"We've got all night and I intend to make it a long one."
I leaned forward and kissed her bruised mouth. It had taken us almost a half-hour to get our clothes of and into bed. We had thrown ourselves at each other when I arrived, her hands all over me, her mouth slamming against mine. I had jumped back with pain, surprised. But when I thought about it a minute, it was easy to guess why she was so worked up.
Jerry had been Karen's lover for about four months. They had met in my class and started their affair practically the first day they met. Then he moved in with her and it was a serious thing, for a while. Something happened. She never told me what exactly, but they had done a good deal of fighting during their relationship and finally had decided to call it off. She was still hung up on him though, finding all kinds of ways to ferret information out of me about him: his work in class, his affairs (if any), his health and now this off-Broadway play he had landed. At first, my comments were casual. After a while I got bored with the whole thing and we had several arguments over it.
She had not seen the show; said she wouldn't go to watch him in that "fag play." Knowing her, it would eat her up alive to see him stark-naked in front of a few hundred people every night and then get raped my another male in the bargain. Word around was that Jerry was now living with an older man, that they were lovers. Hard to believe (she, of course, refused to believe it) but it was possible. He had changed since getting the role in that production.
"He's got a groovy body. Drives the audience up the wall when he does the nude bit." I smiled and then laughed cruelly as her face contorted and she turned away from me, burying the tears as they spurted from her eyes.
"Fucking bastard! Rotten, filthy son-of-a-bitch!" Her words were smothered by the pillow, but I could hear them well enough.
I was sorry then and reached out to touch her. She pulled away and I moved closer to press my body against hers. My cock was rigid and burning with desire as it dug into her thigh. She did not move but she felt me there, and she would respond in a moment, I knew. I kissed her neck and she didn't pull away this tune. My mouth ran down her shoulder to her exposed breast. My lips encircled the nipple and I bit hard on it. She responded with a moan, moving her body slightly so that I could get at her more easily. I moved my hips and she turned toward me, one leg lifting up and crossing over my thigh. With both hands, I lifted her sides and twisted her to me, my hips slipping between her legs, my cock pressing into the cleft.
She threw her head back and grabbed at me with both hands, her fingers closing over my shoulders as I raised myself up. I glanced down our bodies, hers magnificently sleek and voluptuous beneath me, her abdomen fluttering, her hips rotating easily, her breasts standing up straight and firm. My cock was the connection between us, extending down to her, the tip at her opening, its throbbing head searching for the entrance, ready to burst with anticipation.
She threw her legs wide and pressed upward as I entered her. Her mouth flew open in a breathless scream as her fingers tore into my flesh, pulling me to her with amazing strength. I dropped down and I plunged into her to the hilt, my balls striking her inner thigh, the heat of her cunt burning me, scalding me, almost bringing me to climax by its intensity.
"Chris! Fuck me! Oh, my God, please fuck me!"
Tears rolled won the sides of her face as she pounded on the bed. I covered her mouth with my own and we started the ritual of slow easy fucking, both of us enjoying the sensation, forgetting everything but this very moment, our whole world centered at the apex.
At first, I made it slow, pulling my cock out of her to the tip and then thrusting home, feeling her whole body react to it as she lurched up on the bed, gurgling noises in her throat, her teeth sinking into my lips, her fingers raking long tears up and down my back. Then I increased the speed, rotating my hips, forcing her legs further apart, sinking ever deeper into that velvety, white-hot shaft, my hands squeezing her tits, kneading them with my fingers. I knew I was irritating the nipple between my fingers as I ran my hand down her side to her hip. I could feel the muscles of her cunt closing on me and I reached down and grasped her hips, pulling her to me on each thrust, pounding my cock deeper, ever deeper into the depths of her being, her legs lifting up and around my hips, then to my waist.
Her breathing was labored now, her hands doing a crazy dance all over my body as she approached climax. I held off, hoping she would come so that I could bring her to another one before we finished.
Her hands balled into fists and she beat a staccato rhythm on my shoulders, the spittle forcing its way out of her mouth and down her chin. She was trying to say something but I would not take my mouth from hers so, whatever it was became distorted and pounded out a rhythmic crescendo as she built to her first orgasm.
My cock was expanded now, gorged with come and itching to burst into her, but I held off. I gripped the cheeks of her ass and pulled her into me, feeling the heat as I sank into her. Then I pulled out and plunged down again and again. I was home there, fitting into her with all the wild sensations possible, sliding back and forth, the textures of our skin whispering against each other one moment and then searing with a molten heat the next. I could feel her tense and her cries building in short, spasmodic jets of air and sound. She was ready and I must hold off! She was crying louder now, spitting out the sounds, her hips breaking against mine with uncontrolled passion as we worked there on the bed.
AND SHE CAME! Her body battered mine, her mouth tore from me and she screamed. It was a long, drawn-out scream of utter agony and pleasure. Her fingers drew blood on my shoulders as they sank into my flesh. But I felt no pain. I was on the point and I almost lost control at her climax but I held on. I continued to ram myself into her even though she had quieted and her hips had relaxed.
Karen's eyes shot open when she realized I had not come. She looked at me with hate and slapped my face - hard I reached up and held her hands, forcing them down our sides until they came to my hips. Then I pulled them across until they were placed on my buttocks. I held her hands there a moment, and then she gripped hard, digging into the muscles of my ass, holding on as she started again the slow easy movement with her hips. I smiled and slammed into her again and again. She caught her breath and met me stroke for stroke. She was building fast this time and I couldn't wait.
My cock was red-hot and bursting with come. It was on the final brink. We both cursed each other and brutally whipped our bodies to their extremes - as we came together, in wild white-hot, screaming ecstasy!
Karen was sobbing now as I lay upon her. She was quiet and lifeless beneath me, the tears running freely. She knew that I had heard his name in the cursing. I had heard it before. Now I had become used to it and I forgave her. The kid really had a hold on her and she was more frightened by it than anything.
We lay quietly for some time, each with our own thoughts.
"Chris?"
"Yes."
"I'm... forgive me. Please."
I was silent. Better to let her suffer a little over it. So I pretended that I was hurt.
She moved slightly and held me tighter, her hands caressing my shoulders, her lips brushing the bruises she had made. I winced and moaned. Suffer, baby! I'm going to make you hurt a little too.
"Chris! I mean it. I'm sorry. I don't know... why. But, I haven't... It's still there, some of it. I can't help it. Believe me. Please!" She was pleading now and I had to relent. The sex was good. Hell! It was great! It always was with her. She worked with you and you had the feeling she was concentrating only on us.
"Take it easy, baby. I understand." I was quiet for a moment. "Cigarette?" She nodded and I rolled off her. I jumped off the bed and walked to my jacket.
"Hey, teacher! You don't do so bad yourself." Her voice was soft, low and sexy.
I turned back to her and stood a moment, my hands on my hips, as her eyes roamed over my body.
"Glad you like it."
"I do. Oh, man! Indeed I do!" She giggled then and pulled the sheet up to her neck modestly. "After the cigarette, we'll have a repeat performance. What do you say?"
I smiled and fished out the pack of Winstons.
"I'm ready whenever you are."
We lit up and then relaxed against the back of the sofa-bed.
"Okay. I think I can hear it now. What did you think? I mean... "
"I know what you mean. And I've already said the kid is good. I was quite surprised. Keith, well, he knows he's good.
"He's an A-number-one faggot if there ever was one. But he doesn't come across that way on stage. It's to his credit." I paused a minute before continuing. "He's got a great body and a mean-looking cock. Drives the gay crowd out of their heads. They all want him to screw the bejeezus out of them. But I would be willing to bet that it's the other way around. His stud act is just that."
"I couldn't care less about that fairy. What about... Jerry? I haven't been to the play and I won't. But I would like to know about him."
"How many times do I have to say it? The kid is good." I was getting a little uptight.
"Okay." She was silent, puffing on the cigarette, her arms crossed over her succulent breasts, the nipples peeking out at me, reminding me that we were going to get back to the situation at hand soon. It couldn't be soon enough for me. "Do you think I ought to... well, you know. Should I see the play?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Karen! See the fucking play! What the hell is the matter with you?" I turned a little away from her to drop ashes in the ashtray. She touched my arm and I stayed that way for a bit.
"Chris. Don't get upset with me."
"I'm not. But for Christ's sake, we go over the same fucking thing every time we get together."
"I didn't think you could be the jealous type."
"Yeah, I know. Nobody things about my personal feelings. Only my professional ones. I'm not entitled to anything that personal. Right?"
"It's just that... well, I remember when I was in class. We all looked up to you. Hell, you had all the answers and we sat there looking at you, worshipping." She suddenly started to laugh. "Wow! I mean, when I thought about getting laid by you it was like-well, getting laid by God! Know what I mean?"
I frowned and laughed without humor. "God. Shit! What little you people know, for Jesus sake!"
"Well, Chris, after all, you are a sort of... well, hero. I mean, you're a god-figure. You can do no wrong."
I laughed then. "Depends on your definition of wrong." I turned and bit her on the shoulder. "Now this, for instance. What's wrong about this?"
She giggled and snuggled closer to me. We stayed that way for a few moments.
I sighed and decided to talk about it.
"Okay. The kid is good. When Jerry came into the class, he was all body-and I mean bad body. His physical movements were incredibly awkward, let alone his emotions. He was tied up and inhibited beyond belief. I practically gave him up on first watching his work. I told Christine to suggest to him that he get into some other field. But she didn't want to lose another student. Money-grabbing cunt. Anyway, so I was saddled with him.
Well, I'm not sorry now. He's got possibilities." I turned to put out the cigarette in the ashtray. "He's a handsome kid-physically, I mean. I guess you know that as well as anyone. He handles himself well, his body responds to his emotions and he doesn't seem to be uptight about the nudity thing. The rape scene - well, that's something else."
"I'd rather not hear about it!" She pulled away again and I thought for a minute there she would cry. But she stared ahead silently and said nothing. I waited.
"Is it... is it disgusting? Would it... I mean... "
"No, it is not disgusting. To tell you the truth, it's very well handled. Two beautiful creatures balling. What's disgusting about that?"
"Are you kidding? Two men?" She looked at me with horrified eyes, her disgust apparent on her face.
"Karen, because you're Victorian in your thinking about the homosexual thing doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong."
"Chris! You mean you... "
"What? Approve? Who am I to make a judgement about it?"
"It's not a matter of that-"
"No? Then what is it?"
"It's not... normal, for one thing."
"Really? What's normal?"
"You know what I meant!"
"Karen, obviously you've got a blind spot when it comes to this. So let's just drop it. Okay?"
She was silent a moment.
"You sound like you think it's okay. It makes me wonder a little about you."
"Really? Well, don't let it fuck you up, honey."
"No, I mean it. What do you think about it?"
"I've already told you. I think it's fine. That is, if the people involved want it, what's wrong with it?"
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Why?"
"Chris. Answer something for me. Have you...?"
"Have I what?" I knew what she was asking but I wanted her to say it.
"Well, I mean your ideas are very... liberal in class. And I've thought several times that you were suggesting that it... well, that it was all right."
"I wasn't suggesting it. I was saying it."
"I see." She sat beside me without looking my way. She wanted to come out with it but couldn't.
"Karen, I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done in my life. I've been to bed with a boy before, and I probably will again."
"What?" She drew away from me, revulsion written all over her. She stared at me with open eye's and I could see behind them her mind working on that. In a minute she would probably run to the John and throw up.
"Karen! Don't be such a fucking prude!"
"Don't touch me!" She pulled away and sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Your head is all screwed up with this. What's so fucking important about it?"
"You're sick! Oh, man, is that sick! You're sick!" She jumped out of the bed and grabbed her robe. "Just keep the hell away from me, mister. All of you, you're all alike! SICK!"
"It might be a good idea to lower your voice, honey!" I stared at her and she knew I meant it. She knew my temper and had learned to fear it. "Now, listen to me,, you stupid bitch! Don't start casting moral attitudes my way because I'll just throw them back in your face. So far, you've been happy with my cock and the way I use it. I've been a good stud to you for quite a few weeks now, no questions asked. Now, all of a sudden, now you know about my swinging both ways, now it works a little differently. Right? Well, what about the god-figure? What about being screwed by God? Huh? You're thinking: have I been sleeping with a faggot all this time? Do I act like a faggot, baby, while my cock is plowing into you and you're screaming like a sow? You loved it. You can't get enough of it! Well, neither can I, honey!" I was panting and shaking with fury, so I calmed down and tried to control myself a little. "Why didn't you think about such things when you were being laid by your little blond fairy friend?"
Her eyes blazed. "You son-of-a-bitch! Jerry is no fairy! I know! Who could know that better than me?"
"Why? Because he screwed you? Well, so did I, baby! But, he's okay because you've had his cock, Well, you've had mine too! Now where are you?"
I could see her mind working, trying to find an answer. She was confused and she was now dealing with things she didn't even want to contemplate. She turned suddenly and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door.
I let another cigarette and waited.
And as I waited a thought came to me. Okay, honey. We're just going to settle this thing once and for all. I'm going to get that kid. I'm going to use everything - my position, my influence, whatever it would take. But I would get that kid and I would fuck the ass off him and find a foolproof way of having you know about it.
I sometimes surprised myself with my own viciousness. I smiled and inhaled and waited.
"Hello? Mr. Greene? This is Jerry." My heart jumped when I heard his voice. Thought transference? Mental telepathy? Anyway, he was calling and I was thinking of him.
"Hi, Jerry. How are you?"
"Just fine, sir. I understand you came to the show last night. I wish you had stayed around and said hello."
"Oh, well. I figured you had enough friends there. You'd hardly notice a tired old acting coach." I tried to sound light but I was obviously fishing.
"Are you kidding? If I'd known you were there I wouldn't have thought about anything else. Wow! It's probably good that I didn't. I would have blown the whole thing."
"I doubt that." We were both silent a moment. "You were very good, Jerry. A damned nice job."
"That's what I wanted to hear! And from you, that's something! Mr. Greene, I would rather have a good word from you than from... well, just about anybody, I guess. Do you mean it? Was I all right?"
"Better than that. You did an excellent job. Very professional and moving. You really reached me. I was very proud of you." That ought to do it.
"Wow! Gee, thanks, Mr. Greene. I was hoping you'd like it but I never dreamed you would go for it that much. Wow! Out of sight!" He giggled freely and I could just see his face light up.
"When are you coming back to class?"
"I'm coming back today. That's what I'm calling about. Now that the first previews are over with we only rehearse about twice a week - that is, until the week before the opening. Which is, let me see... hey! It's only two weeks away. It just came up so quick. But I want to come back today anyway. Is it all right? I'll make the early class, if that's okay with you."
"It's fine, Jerry. We'll all be happy to see you." I waited, almost said something else, then decided against it. Play it cool, Chris-baby. You know how to do it. Relax! I'll let Christine know you're coming back. Drop by the office before you go to the studio. All right?"
"Yes, sir, I will. And thank you again, Mr. Greene. I appreciate your comments." He paused a moment and I thought he was going to hang up but he didn't. "Mr. Greene?"
"Yes, Jerry."
"I don't know how to say this, but it's all on you. I mean, I could never have done that play in a million years if it hadn't been for you. I was a real nothing when I started your class. I knew it and I knew you knew it. So anything I am now is your doing. And I mean that."
"Thank you, Jerry. But don't be so modest. If it wasn't there I never could have brought it out. You have the talent; my job is to help you find the way to make it work. Right?"
"Yes, sir. But I still say you are the one. You're the greatest there is, sir. And I... I want to... Wow! I don't know what to say!"
"Then forget it. See you later, Jerry." I hung up quickly and sat there staring at the phone for a minute. I thought he was going to cry. Good kid. Has a lot of sensitivity. Rare these days, especially in this egomaniacal society.
o I glanced at the copy of After Dark on my desk. I pulled it to the light and opened it on the page turned down. There he was - Jerry The Golden Boy, they called him. With Keith. They were both nude, holding each other in a suggestive pose that was sure to turn on the gay crowd and perhaps even a few of the straights. Beautiful!
My eyes moved down his body, the sleek curves and muscles. Strange. It looked untouched. There was a... a purity about it. His face was impassive and smooth, the blond hair almost to his shoulders, the eyes not really looking at Keith. He had a full sensual mouth, almost feminine. His body was excellent, muscular and exquisitely formed with, again, that most magnificent and unusual ass. The photo was taken in such a way as to display the voluptuous curves of those buttocks in all their glory. I felt a tightening in my crotch as I stared at it. I smiled. Hadn't ever felt that about a boy. But this kid indeed turned me on.
As for Keith, well, there was no doubt about his scene. His brilliantly pretty eyes and wildly curling hair, the curve and stance of his body. It was all there. There was nothing pure-looking about him. He was all sex; he reeked of it. Well, he played it expertly.
"Wishful thinking?"
I dropped the book with a little embarrassment as I heard her voice, insinuatingly sweet in my ear.
Without turning I answered her.
"Jealous?"
With a sharp intake of breath, Christine turned away from my desk. She snorted and laughed aloud, a phony harsh sound which revealed so clearly her thoughts.
"You've got to be kidding! I never shit where I eat."
I smiled and kept my back to her. My dear, you are so delicate. Makes one almost cry with the beauty of your thoughts. Gets you right there...
"You had to go and say something nice. How like you."
I threw a Winston into my mouth and lit it with a flourish as I turned to survey what incredible get-up she had managed to pull herself into today.
It was indeed unbelievable. It was a white knit suit which screamed in agony as it stretched itself beyond endurance to encompass that elephantine frame and conglomeration of blubber.
"Christine! You look like Little Bo-Peep. Where is your flock?"
She didn't even bat an eye. She twisted and turned for me to get the whole picture, tossing a silk scarf around her neck with a grand gesture.
"My... flock is right behind me." She swept to the door and gestured. I didn't have to look to see who it was. I knew.
Tommy. You great big muscle-bound child.
"Hi, Chris. What's up?"
"That was last night. It doesn't have strength enough to do anything today." I smiled and looked him up and down, as she grasped his arm and hung onto it for dear life.
Tommy. A really astoundingly handsome young man. Six foot two of solid body and sensuality. A nice guy. Simple, easy and unaffected. With much heart. And in his own way, he loved her. He was aware of her selfish dogmatism. He tolerated it and allowed her to paw him. Why? Because he was out of work, between modeling or commercial jobs and he needed the bread. And she had it! So he was her official escort. And he didn't seem to mind. If he did, he was quiet about it.
"Tommy, baby, scratch my back." She moved in front of him and defiantly stared at me. I was amused as I turned away and concentrated on my notes for today's class.
"Jerry will be back in class today."
"Oh, really! That should make you happy."
I sighed. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Christine! I'm telling you so you can enter him in the books again. That's it."
"What did I say? You're so touchy when it comes to him." She giggled and started to hum a stripper's tune as she bumped away from Tommy toward her desk. "You really missed it, Tommy. The play was a drag, but those kids! Woweee! Y'know, Keith and Jerry? Gorgeous! What bodies! I almost came right there in the seat."
I turned quickly. "You mean you didn't? I thought that was what you were moaning about." I laughed and Tommy joined me.
"Hey, Christine! I thought you didn't like little boys."
"Tommy, they may be little boys but in certain areas they ain't so little." She bumped again and laughed with a high-pitched screaming burst of power. It almost shook me off the chair.
"Tommy, are you working?" I twisted around and looked at him over my copy of An Actor Prepares.
"No work. Everything is dead. The only thing I get offered these days is skin flicks."
"So?"
"Forget it. Not my bag."
"Why not? You've got the face and figure for it. And that's where the bread is. Plenty of it."
"Maybe. But not for me."
"Yes I forgot. You're really a prude at heart, aren't you? A shame. The chicks would lose their minds over you."
"Chicks don't go to see those flicks. It's tired old bastards who want to play with themselves. I'd rather they didn't watch me while they're doing it."
"What difference does it make? One of my students, Harry, makes a couple thou for every one he does. And he does one every month, I think."
"Look, Chris. I have to do what I think is right for me."
I held up both hand, dropping the book into my lap.
"I give up! Don't shoot!" I paused and smiled at him. "I know, Tommy. And I respect you for it. But just remember something. Okay? It's the result that counts, not how it's done."
He screwed up his face as he stared at me. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Think about it."
I turned back to my desk and opened the book again. I started making notes as they whispered to each other behind my back. Stanislavski was a very together man. Every times I got bored with teaching or directing I would go back to his writings and be inspired again. I had long ago resolved the difference between what he wrote and what we were able to achieve in the practical stage. But it was exciting and stimulating to read anyway.
"Hot date last night? After you dumped me in that cab you sure as hell took off in a hurry. Hope I didn't delay... "
"You couldn't, Christine." I paused and waited for her to say something else but of course she was waiting for me to give her a full report. She'd wait a long time.
"When are you going to tell me who it is this week?"
"Probably never, dear. Besides I'm sure you couldn't care less."
"You're so right. I'm intrigued, that's all. No explaining taste. Right, baby?" She gave out with as much of a smile as possible while she bitched me. She was dying to know who I was screwing. I enjoyed her suffering.
"Right." But, I did not pursue the subject. Waste of time. I glanced at my watch. About thirty minutes to class time. Just time enough for me to get coffee.
I stood up and stretched as I grabbed for my jacket.
"Coffee, anyone? I'm going out."
"Yeah, black, Chris." Tommy reached into his skin-tight Levis to fish out a quarter. You're all man, Tommy baby. Don't ever let anyone tell you different.
"Christine?" I had to ask her directly, otherwise it would be an affront. She could never be included in any kind of a group, even when it came to taking an order for coffee.
"Soda, if you don't mind. Cream." She again pursed her lips and played gently with the word, making it obscene. Isn't it strange how the same word from someone else would be, might be, sexy? From her, it was dirty.
"No-Cal?"
She looked up at me and tucked in what she could of her enormous stomach. She smiled like a fat Mona Lisa and just stared at me. That was my answer.
I went through the door quickly with her laugh following me down the stairs.
I became conscious of someone staring at me. When I turned to the door, he stood there, leaning against the door jamb, his fingers hooked into his corduroy bells, a quizzical smile on his face.
"You looked so intent on what you were reading, I didn't want to disturb you, sir."
"Come in, Jerry. Come in." Then, I laughed a little. I was not even concentrating on what I was reading. My mind was wandering and I was doing my best to force it back to the subject matter- stream-of-consciousness exercises. An irony.
He held out his hand. I took it as he slipped into a chair next to my desk.
"It's good to see you, sir." What a smile! Yeah, he'd make it. He had changed, I noticed. It had been about four weeks since he had left class. There was a change. What was it?
"Nice to see you, Jerry. You're looking fit."
"I feel great. And why not? I'm making money at my... well... craft, I guess you'd call it. And I'm eating better." He grinned at that. "And I have a nice pad to rest my weary body. And wow! Is it ever weary after that play!"
"I can well imagine." I stared at him, trying to fathom the change, the almost imperceptible coloring of his personality.
"How is class, sir? Any new kids?"
"Yes, a couple. But the old crew is still there too. And as ornery as ever." He giggled infectiously. "Bud, of course, the clown, and Valentina with her soulful eyes."
"I can't wait to sit in again. And sir, I'd prefer not to work today if you don't mind. I'd just like to watch. It's been so long."
"All right, Jerry." As he stood up to go into the studio, I suddenly remembered the call. "Oh, by the way, you got a phone call. Someone named Eric?"
He flushed a little. "Yes?"
"I have the message here somewhere." I found it tucked into the Stanislavski book. I handed it to him. "I'll see you in class in a moment."
"Thank you, sir." He turned and, as he did, I shot a glance at his backside. That's what it is! A slight, almost unnoticed manner of walking, sitting, standing-an awareness of himself. Before, he had always seemed like a young man who took himself, his body, for granted. Now he didn't. He had a different cast to the way he used his body, a knowledge of his physical self and a confidence in what he could do with it. The cord bells stretched across his buttocks with velvet smoothness as he walked out of the office, the twin muscles rolling and kissing the material with a sensual familiarity.
So it's true, I thought. This Eric was his lover and obviously a good one. I thought back to his voice, deep and controlled, masculine and easy. I wondered if I would ever meet him. At that moment, I determined I would.
When I opened the door to Studio A, the raucous noise toned down and the chaotic room started to settle into some sort of order. Bud came to me and held out his hand. The job of checking the attendance had now become his job and he delighted in it. I smiled as I handed the book to him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dorsey."
He grinned and bowed slightly, his tousled hair fairing over his forehead and his beautiful eyes twinkling.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Greene." He turned to the class and I courageously avoided dropping my eyes to his ass. He was wearing faded Levis and I remembered them as being the ones which fit him entirely too well, the bleached areas stretching over his youthful body, giving it an animalism foreign to the childlike appearance of the boy.
"Settle down, people!" My usual reminder to them. It would take them a few minutes as they all seemed to be gathered around Jerry, asking questions, slapping him on the back, the girls eyeing him with a new interest, the boys with envy.
"Welcome back, Jerry. And congratulation. All right, people. Let's be a little quiet, please!" I waited a moment. Bud handed the book to me. All present. He bounced to his seat, looking at me with those pixyish eyes, his secret smile playing across his face. I couldn't help but return it.
The class went well. We concentrated on exercises for the emotions and some of the work was quite exciting. I blew up only once - during an argument with Alexander, the conceited bastard. I doubt if he'll ever be an actor. A good lay, perhaps, and maybe enough personality to get him some kind of future. But when he argued about interpretation or truthful emotion, it was almost grotesque.
For some reason, I found myself looking at Bud more and more during the session. Each time I did, his eyes were on me. Sometimes he smiled and sometimes he merely stared at me, his chin cupped in his hand, a slight scowl on his face. What was going on behind that choirboy exterior? I would have to find out.
He did an exercise with Roz. They were lovers, caught on a cable car as the wires broke loose and they hung suspended over a five-thousand-foot crevice in the mountains. It was a little hysterical and obvious, but there were "moments of truth", as the Master would put it.
When he took his seat, the tears were streaming down his face and he was sniffling.
"Aside from the cliches involved in that exercise, what truths were elicited?" I glanced around the room and waited for an answer. Brian said there were none. I wasn't surprised. Val said she didn't believe it and then turned to Bud and touched his arm as if to reassure him it wasn't anything personal. Dumb broad. Alexander pouted as I had just eaten him out for his irrational thinking. He refused to comment. Several others voiced opinions but it was all rather vague and uninspired.
"Mr. Greene?"
It was Jerry. He raised his hand and I smiled.
"Yes, Jerry."
"I know I really shouldn't be allowed to comment as I'm not working today. But I liked it. I mean, it had truth in it and I think Roz and Bud were sincere. That's what's important, isn't it? I mean, it may not have been the greatest moment on the American theatre stage, but this is a class and we're supposed to try to get to the truth. And I think they did. At least, at times they did."
I watched him, his handsome face alive with activity as he explained. He was more into it, I thought, and also he was using his head much better than ever before. It was not conceit, not because he was now in a professional production and therefore throwing his "experience" around. He was more intent, more conscious of his and others work. I was pleased.
"Very good, Jerry. And you're right. No matter what the result, the intent in the work is sound and you both obviously had moments of involvement. That's what counts in your class work... " When the class ended and the students were slowly drifting out of the studio, I gathered my books and notes and delayed leaving the room. Without looking directly at him, I knew that Bud was leaning against the studio door, not speaking to anyone, simply watching me across the room with quiet steady eyes. I was uncomfortable and a little worried about this child. What was his problem? I decided to wait it out and find the solution at his pleasure.
Jerry informed me that he wouldn't attend class the following week as it was their final rehearsal week. I wished him luck on the opening of the play and avoided looking at him when he left. Valentina coyly drifted around my table, waiting for an opening.
"Chris. Going for coffee, or anything?" She gave her most perfect smile which, by all accounts, was not entirely so.
"Sorry, Val, I have some phone calls to make before I leave for the day. Take a rain check?"
She frowned and sucked on her lips, but refrained from saying anything as others circled around me with all kinds of questions. After a few moments, she gave up and left. As I watched her go past Bud through the door, it suddenly struck me as wildly Bizarre, the strange contrast between them. Val, the towering amazon, oppressive and aggressive; Bud, the almost fragile child, quiet yet quixotic, delicately sensual. Perhaps it was this which made the decision for me. Whatever the boy's problem, I would take him to bed and very soon. Simply to supply the answer to my need - no matter what his were.
As I tried to focus on what was being asked by some of the students, the picture of Karen's twisted, almost bestial face came to me as she stood next to the bed, her breasts poking out of her robe, her long reddish-brown hair spiraled in Medusa-like tentacles across her face and shoulders. Her expression was a thing to remember as it registered with her-her lover had fucked a boy! I looked up and smiled at Bud. And I will again, bitch! And I'm looking at him.
Bud straightened up and a look came over his face of almost total comprehension. His eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open. He shivered and then closed his eyes, his lips pursing. I had to glance away. If anyone saw him they would see a moment of complete rapture, totally unexplainable. I flushed with embarrassment and I must admit a little excitement.
I quickly parried questions and abruptly dismissed the remainder of the students. I gathered up my things and strode to the door. I didn't look at Bud as I passed him.
"Bud, I would like to speak to you a moment. Come into the office, please." I passed through the door and down the hall.
He stood next to my desk as I made a couple of phone calls. One to Karen, the coolness of her voice not surprising me as I cancelled our dinner. She did not seem disappointed. She hung up abruptly without even saying good-bye. It did not disturb me.
"Bud, what are you doing tonight?"
He didn't answer immediately. I knew he was suspended between what he hoped was true and the actual. So he didn't trust himself to speak.
"Well?"
"I... well, Mr. Greene, nothing actually. I mean, I was going to study, that's all." He stood there like a truant child, his eyes wandering around the office, his hands nervously tugging at his shirt.
"How about having dinner with me? That is, if you'd like."
He stared at me and said nothing. He gulped and I knew I had to say something to soften the shock.
"Look, Bud. I don't believe in this normally. What I mean to say is that I don't make a practice of... well, fraternizing with the students. But I wanted to talk to you and I felt that maybe over dinner we could... well... get to know one another a little better. What do you say?"
I had the feeling that he was seeing through me but not daring to admit it to himself. A soft smile played across his mouth as he brought his eyes to rest on mine.
"I'd like that, Mr. Greene." He paused a minute and glanced down to his Levis. "But I'd have to change, wouldn't I? I mean, you don't want to... "
"You're fine." I watched him a moment. "How about you suggesting a place? Perhaps in the Village. They don't care how you dress down there. Besides, I'd like to relax myself. Know any place you like?"
"Yes, sir. There's a... Do you like Greek or Armenian food?"
"Sure."
"Well, there's a great one in the Village. It's called Keneret. They have the most tremendous salads in the whole world. You wouldn't believe them!"
"Fine! Then it's the Keneret!" I stood up and shook out a cigarette. "I have to go back to my apartment for a little bit. Shall we meet at the restaurant?"
He stood, too. "Yes, sir. I live only a couple of blocks from there. What time?"
I inhaled and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. I looked at his clear, smooth face, a beautiful face.
"Eight?"
He smiled and picked up his books.
"Eight, sir." He turned then and went through the door like a shot. I could hear him leaping down the stairway and bolting through the door. I went to the window that overlooked the street, watching him run up the sidewalk toward the subway. He danced a little, leaping into the air, tossing his book up and catching it agilely.
I smiled and turned back into the office.
This is very possibly a big mistake, Christopher old cock. But it was the beginning, the first rung on the ladder to other things, other people.
Perhaps I would be using this boy cruelly. Perhaps he wanted to be used. Perhaps it would hurt us both. But it would be done and a barrier I had built against such actions would come tumbling down. I would be able to adjust I was sure. After all, I preached it in my classes, to my friends. Now I would exercise it-all the way.
And, as for using, how about that broad using me? Wasn't that just what Karen was doing, using me to get to Jerry? In sustaining our relationship, she got all the cock she wanted and could still keep tabs on her ex-lover. That thought had been working itself around in my mind for some time now, but I had excused it before. Now I wouldn't.
As I climbed the final flights of stairs I had to pause to get my breath. Six flights he said, forgetting to remind me that it was actually twelve - as each floor had a double set of stairs to navigate. He turned to me and smiled.
"Mr. Greene! I'm sorry! I get used to it so I guess I forget everyone else discovers it's more than they planned on."
I looked up at him and grinned.
"Forget it. The air is a little thin up here, that's all. Takes a little getting used to." He giggled and I joined him as we cracked the final flight and stopped at his door.
He was nervous as he inserted the key. It was the usual railroad flat, with a long hall and several rooms darkly apparent, off to the right of the passageway.
"We're almost there." His voice was almost mocking in its amusement. A light came on at the dark end of the hall and suddenly I was in the kitchen. The whole apartment was simply, almost drably furnished, but it was indicative of his penury.
"My roommate is in California with a show." His roommate? He saw the questioning look on my face as I stared at the kitchen wall. Above the table was a scrawled message in large letters, probably made with a grease pencil. It said: "I love you more each day."
His face was scarlet as he faced me. "Bob is the emotional type." I could see that he didn't feel he had to explain it and I didn't pursue the subject.
He fixed me a drink and filled a pipe with grass for himself. He put on "2001, A Space Odyssey" and we relaxed into the makeshift furniture of the cramped living room.
I watched him as he drew on the pot. His concentration was marvelous to see, his face contorting with the suction and his eyes revealing his anticipation of a high.
"I enjoyed the restaurant, Bud. The food is excellent."
He grinned and nodded his head.
"Are you all right?"
He pulled away from the pipe and stared at me. "Of course. Are you sure you don't want to...?" He gestured with the pipe.
I shook my head. Pot was not unfamiliar to me but I was in no mood for it. And knowing his temperament, I was sure that he would be the emotional, down-type of grass smoker. And he was.
"Mr. Greene, I'm so glad we had dinner together. I'm so... I don't know." He looked down at the floor and contemplated his feet. "I guess I'm just lonely."
"Bob, your roommate, has been away for six weeks?"
He nodded.
I understood his loneliness. But I would wait.
Bud relaxed into the cushions of the chair and looked at me through the smoke of the pipe as it rested in the palm of his hand.
"This is nice. And unbelievable!" He paused and looked at me with soft eyes. Then he grinned. "Wow! This is so... unbelievable, Mr. Greene!"
"Would you please knock off the Mr. Greene shit? I'm Chris. It's a little ridiculous-"
"I know. I know." He paused and closed his eyes. "Okay, Chris." He smiled and snuggled deeper into the chair. "Wow! That's a groove! Chris! I'm calling you Chris!"
"That's my name."
"Yeah, I know. But well, I mean-wow! Chris! I like it." He stared at me again. "You're a... beautiful man, Mr. Greene. Chris! But I guess you know that."
I stared back, deciding not to pick that one up.
"I don't only mean beautiful, y'know - inside. You're a gorgeous man. I sometimes sit in class and look at you and... Wow! I've wanted to know just what you... " He stopped then and didn't move. I had the feeling that he had suddenly gone to sleep.
"Yes?"
"I mean, I wondered what you looked like... with no clothes. Naked." His eyes were closed and he was quiet for a long moment. "I looked at you, the clothes you wear, they fit nice, y'know? They show what you've... " Then suddenly he got into a fit of giggling. "Shit! I'm talking out of my head! And I'm not even stoned yet!"
I laughed too, relaxing more, my legs stretching out and my arms dropping over the sides of the chair. I could feel the tightness in my crotch again as I looked at him. It was crazy but I wanted him.
Bud opened his eyes and looked at me. I think he saw the desire in my eyes because he put down the pipe and slid out of the chair across the floor to my feet. He sat there, his little-boy face pale and worried-looking. His luminous, exotic eyes looked deeply into mine. He spoke in a hesitating manner, his words forced out syllable by syllable.
"I... want... you, Mr. Greene. And... I shouldn't... want you, Mi. Greene. Because you're... my... my teacher, and I... and... I have a lover." Then the tears coursed down his cheeks, but he did not stop speaking. "I want... to... touch you. I want... you to... hold me." Then he started to sob. "Because I'm... afraid I'm going to... to... to disappear! I mean... I just think... I'm... going to... to vanish like a puddle of water - drying up... on a... a... desert!"
The hackles rose on the back of my neck as I watched him. He couldn't be stoned that quickly. But he certainly acted it. The kid was screwed up for sure, but I couldn't determine what was causing it. I didn't know him that well and I probably would never get to know him that well.
"Bud, take it easy."
He raised his arms to me and closed his eyes. I slipped off the chair and enfolded the child in my arms, his head against mine, his thin, strong arms gripping me around the neck. We stayed that way for some time, on the floor holding each other, as he sobbed and choked. His body was intensely hot and his heart beat rapidly as I held him close. His lips were on my neck and they stayed there, voicing sounds which were lost to me.
After a long while, I leaned back and held him away from me. His eyes were open and he was looking at me, the tears still running freely, his shaking sobs convulsing him.
And then we were kissing.
The thrill that coursed through my body was incredible to me as my lips touched his. They were soft and fantastically resilient against mine. His tongue shot into my mouth, but not lustfully, rather easily and gently. I crushed him to me and the thought raced through me for a moment that there really was no difference between kissing him and any female I had ever made it with. The lips were as soft, the demanding mouth was as stimulating, the body was as luscious and sensual. My head was dizzy and my body burned.
He broke away from me.
"I shouldn't... do that. I'm sorry."
I reached for him and brought him back.
"Don't be sorry. I'm not. I want you, Bud, and I think you want me. I don't want to hurt you but I think we should do what we feel-and right now."
His breathing quickened and he brought his mouth to mine again. We kissed this time with much more passion and it left us both panting for breath.
I stared at him.
"My God! I've never felt this way with anyone!" You stupid fuck! What the hell is the matter with you? What kind of a remark is that?
"Me too, Chris! Wow! It's... not... the... pot, either! It's... Mr. Greene! Help me! Help me!" He moaned aloud and sobbed even harder. I crushed him and covered his face with kisses and my hands ran over his body.
Bud eased himself away from me and pulled his shirt open several of the buttons popping. He was breathing heavily and staring at me as he did it, his nakedness revealed as he ripped open his belt and kicked off his shoes. He had undressed so quickly it surprised me. He threw his Levis away from his body and he was completely nude, his little boy body relaxed and beautiful as he waited for me to make a move.
I reached out to touch his hip. The skin was soft and silken. He quivered at each spot I touched, his breathing spasmodic and jerky. I ran my fingers up his side to his chest, squeezing the nipples. They were big and rosy, so much like those of a girl. Yet his body was strong, masculine in its youth, the musculature of his chest and abdomen natural but clearly defined. His legs were perfect for the rest of him, excellently shaped and strong.
I had not purposely avoided looking at his crotch. It's just that I was marvelling at the entire physical presence of the boy and his sexual organs were included in the whole perfect picture. For a young boy, and I could not think of him in any other terms even though I knew he was at least twenty-two years old, he was really built. His erection was pulsing and virginal-looking as it rested against his thigh. The shape and beauty of it caused me to touch it lightly with my fingers. It jumped then and a milky fluid appeared at the tip. I reached lower and cupped the balls in my hand, rolling them lightly causing his cock to move indolently back and forth against his thigh and navel.
"Mr. Greene... Chris. It's driving me crazy, your touching me like that. But it's wonderful!" His eyes became dreamy as his mouth slipped into a lazy smile. He dropped his head forward until it touched my shoulder. I continued to caress him and we remained that way for some time before he reached for me to urge me to undress also.
As his tongue softly pressed against mine, his fingers moved down to my shirt and pulled lightly at the buttons. I reached up to help and in a moment my shirt was thrown to the side, his hands delicately running across my chest and up to my shoulders.
"You're just what I thought! God! What skin! And the bigness of you!" He was breathing more heavily now, his fingers pulling at my belt until it gave. I had to lift myself up to assist him as he pushed at my clothes until they were down around my ankles and I could ease them off. As the tight trousers moved down my hips, my cock popped free and he sighed. It took a good deal of maneuvering to shuck my boots after untangling them from the legs of my pants. He giggled a little as we fought with the clothes, his soft helpless body relaxing against me. We were in no hurry. We knew what was going to happen and we delighted in the time it took to get to it. He would help me to rid myself of the clothes and then his hands would run up my body, his eyes following his fingers. Then he would lean forward and give little bites on my flesh, a low moaning sound in his throat.
Finally, I, too, was naked and then we slipped down onto the floor and pressed together there in that tiny living room, with the "Strauss Waltz" from "2001" reverberating around us.
His softness was amazing as it alternated with a fierce passion that threatened to consume us. He was all fire, his face distorted with passion, his fingers and mouth all over me giving service to my body in a way I had never felt.
"Chris! I can't... " He stopped a moment and reached for my cock and balls. With both hands he covered them and held on, his eyes closed, saliva slipping down his chin.
"Chris! I want every bit of you! I can't believe this! I'm afraid I'm going to open my eyes and you won't be here! Fuck me, Chris! I want to know you're here with me- in me! Fuck me! Take me, hard! Rape me, Chris!"
He was almost hysterical as he gripped me tighter. I grew a little frightened for a moment. The kid was hurting me. My cock was rock hard and burning as his hands gripped it in a viselike hold. His eyes shot open and he dropped his head to my crotch.
The soft, wet warmth of his mouth enclosed my cock with unbelievable strength. He drew on me, dropping his head lower until I was completely submerged, his lips stretching around me, gagging sounds emanating from his throat as he tried to take it all. His hands squeezed my balls and rotated them. He twisted around then and concentrated on sucking me, sucking me with suck fury and need that I was shocked enough to almost pull away from him. He held on, his thin, delicate arms gripping me, his hands slipping around my hips until they gripped my buttocks. He seemed intent on draining me of everything I had.
It was fantastic and magnificent! I felt possessed. I felt sublimely needed. The lower part of my body seemed to melt into him and I relaxed and enjoyed the overwhelming sensation of being brought to the brink and then dropping back as he manipulated me with great control.
In my thrashing around with complete pleasure, my hand came in contact with his hip. Bud had positioned himself so that his waist was in line with my head, not purposely for I felt he wanted to take me without having an orgasm himself. But, I could see his pulsing cock wet with liquid throbbing against his thigh. I reached for it and he moaned as my fingers closed around it. But he twisted his body so that he was lying flat, with my hand imprisoned beneath him, his hips pressed so tightly to the floor that I couldn't move my hand.
Of course this brought his tender, glistening buttocks into view. The twin mounds rose up from his hips curving beautifully into his thighs. His ass was hairless, soft, delicately tanned and the skin was silky to the touch as my hand moved to enclose one of those delightful cheeks. I almost came as I touched him there. Again he moaned and rolled his hips with delight as I kneaded the ass muscles.
Suddenly I felt cool air on my cock as he pulled away and turned to sit up next to me.
"Chris! Fuck me! You want to! Oh, God! Chris, please fuck me!" Bud's childlike face was pleading with me. For a moment there I couldn't believe what was happening. He looked no more than ten years old, a mere baby as he begged for satisfaction.
I reached for him and pulled him to me. He came easily and he lay against me for a moment.
"Do you have something?" I whispered into his ear.
"Yes." He kissed me hurriedly, his eyes sparkling and a little boy grin spreading over his face.
He got up quickly and ran into the other room. In a moment he was back with a tube of K-Y. He pressed some into his hand and reached back to his buttocks to apply it, handing the tube to me. I did not take it. I pressed it back into his hand and he smiled. He knew that I didn't want too much lubricant as I wanted to feel him, to enjoy the sensation as much as possible. He looked down at my cock however and a worried look came into his eyes.
"Chris I'm afraid. You're very big. I want it easy so I can enjoy it."
I smiled at him and nodded. He pressed some of the ointment onto his fingers and reached for my cock. WOW! That feeling was out of sight! He gripped the cock and massaged the K-Y on it, the pleasing friction driving me up the wall. He giggled as he watched me jump with excitement.
Then he dropped down next to me and we kissed again. I had to control myself as I almost came then, reaching down to press his hand away from me, to give the cock a rest or there would be trouble. I reached around behind him and grasped his buttocks. He sighed and rolled over on top of me. My hands raced up and down his sides, lingering on those two globes, pulling them apart, inserting my finger into the anus. He reared up and away from me, crying out with pleasure as I sank my finger all the way into him.
He looked deep into my eyes.
"Do you want me to sit on you?"
I shook my head. "I want you to lie flat so that I can see you. So that I can look at your beautiful little body as I fuck you. Do that!"
He giggled and kissed me like a child leaving for school. Then, he was on the floor beside me, spread-eagled, his tiny body so terribly vulnerable and warm.
I flipped over on top of him, my cock finding its way to the cleft between those high-rising ass muscles. His hips, moved frantically as he tried to position it so that it would enter him. I bit him on the neck and ear, my tongue slipping into the darkness of that tiny little ear causing him to thrash around even more his moans becoming cries as his desire mounted.
"Fuck me! Please!"
His hips were bouncing up and down on the floor threatening to toss me off his body. What strength this kid had! I reached down to grip his sides at the waist and pushed myself up. He groaned with pleasure as he felt my weight upon him. I glanced down as I raised myself up and away from him to see my cock positioned accurately between the twin mounds of soft, velvety flesh. I pressed into him. He cried out and pushed himself back.
The most amazing experience I had ever had! The muscles of his anus almost seemed to have a mind of their own as they gripped my cock and pulled it into his body. I was literally sucked into him with a pulling and demanding pressure which actually did it for me. I cried out with the sensation.
"Bud! Jesus Christ! Easy, baby! I almost came that time!"
"I want you to! Come quick! And then again! And again!"
He pushed up against me and I sank into the child up to the hilt, my cock lodged deeply inside him. He was tight, oh my God! how tight he was! I didn't have time to consider the difference between the feeling of his ass and that of a cunt. There IS a difference-but who cared? I SHOT INTO HIM WITH A CRY! I plunged as deeply as I could and pounded at him, my cock burning with the tightness of his body and the feel of come as it burst from me, implanting him to his very depths.
He was giggling and laughing happily as his hips pounded back at me, draining me of everything I had. I shot again and again. I was literally sobbing against his back as I came again. I tightened my fingers on his waist, digging into the silken flesh, my mouth opening and my teeth sinking into his shoulder.
He continued to move his body beneath me in every conceivable way to excite me, to drive me wild. And it did!
I was shivering then, shaking and dizzy. My whole body was covered with sweat and I could feel the cool pinpricks of flesh giving me sensations of both revulsion and desire.
I wanted to pull out of him and away from him as visions crossed my eyes: visions of Karen, Valentina, Roz - all the ones I had fucked and the ones I would. And what was I doing? I was fucking a boy! Incredible! With gorgeous chicks, fabulous bodies and wanting cunts, I was fucking a boy! I almost laughed aloud at the grotesque thoughts which surged through me.
Bud was peaceful now but hardly relaxed. He was secure and triumphant. He had won! Strange how the one who GETS fucked is always the one who feels he-or she-is the winner. The one doing the fucking seldom thinks of it. He is satisfied and satiated. The fucked one is not, but he is something else: he is the winner! Of course, in my world it was always SHE is the winner. Oh, well!
I almost drifted off for a moment, deep inside the boy, my cock still hard from the experience. I lay atop him and tried not to think of anything. Slowly, almost imperceptibly I could fee his body stirring. His hips were moving languorously, his hands moving down my sides, reaching back to grip my ass and pull me even closer to him. I started to object but the muscles of his ass tightened around my cock and he started working at me - from within! I could feel the most amazing sensation of liquid muscle contracting around my cock, massaging it, stretching it out full length, drawing on it almost like his mouth! It was the most astonishing feeling I had had in years!
Needless to say, within seconds I was fully awake and aroused again. He could feel the hardness, the lengthening cock deep within him and he moaned with pleasure, his lips curling back in a contented smile.
"Bud, not again. I don't think I can."
"Yes you can. I want you again, and again!"
I knew I would as the burning was centering around my balls and the demanding mouth of his anus was sucking at me with great force. This time I rose up away from him and pulled myself almost all the way out. I stared at that enormous organ. It even surprised me at times. It was thick, almost the thickness of a man's wrist and the eight full inches of it drew out of him to the tip. Then I plunged it back into him again, his smoothly curving ass muscles tightening and giving me a strong massage as it accepted the cock deep into his bowels.
It took longer this time. I was prepared for the tricks he used and I used a few of my own. He was thrashing around the floor this time, reaching beneath his body to find his own cock and pull at it with driving fury. Bud was crying out, saying words which had no meaning, which flowed from him with convoluted ecstasy.
We were both into it now, our bodies pounding and rolling on the floor, one minute I was driving my cock into him with no care for his pain, the next minute we were rolled onto our sides and he was masturbating himself violently as his hips slammed back into me, his ass muscles relaxing and my cock slipping in and out with freedom. Then he had rolled on top of me, spun himself around until he was astride my hips, his hands on my thighs pushing himself up and down on my piston-like weapon, his head thrown back, his mouth open with unvoiced screams as I tore at him.
When I came, I do not know. The excitement and passion of our fucking was so intense it happened and I suddenly knew that come was spurting up my chest and hitting me on the chin. For a moment I thought I was mine, but when I opened my eyes I saw the slight body tensed with every muscle clearly defined, his small hand gripping his oversized cock. The cock was still shooting a steady stream onto my chest and stomach as a hollow wail surged up from his hips and ended in a high-pitched scream.
My cock was on fire and it actually pained with intense heat as it remained submerged in his delicate little rump. Bud's muscular legs gripped my hips and he panted with the release. He was shivering now. I could see the goose pimples standing out all over him as he tried to relax and come back to reality.
I reached out to touch his side.
"You all right, Bud?" My breathing was difficult and I heard my voice with shock. It was strained, almost a little hysterical.
He panted and shook violently.
"Yes, Chris. Yes!" He was silent and I could see him try desperately for control.
We remained like that for some time without moving.
I began to feel that revulsion again. So I closed my eyes and tried to avoid our positions. The come on my chest and stomach was hot and sticky feeling. For a moment there, I almost threw up. But I controlled it.
I moved slightly, keeping my eyes closed.
"Bud? I have to go... to the bathroom."
I could hear him shudder and move on me.
"You feel so good inside me I don't want to move."
I tapped insistently on his hip with my fingers.
"The bathroom, Bud."
He moved then and I felt a cool breeze hit my waist as he slipped off me and dropped down on the floor full length. He sighed and relaxed fully.
With a great effort, I pulled myself up off the floor and limped to the bathroom. As I did, I turned back and looked at Bud stretched out on his face on the floor.
I glanced down at my cock. It was still hard and extended. I looked at him, at that tender behind, the soft silken backside of the child. Hard to believe. This tremendous thing went into that? Didn't seem possible.
I staggered to the bathroom and locked the door.
PART TWO
I SAT IN MY ROOM, TWISTING the Scotch and water around in my fingers. I had poured it some time ago and hadn't ever tested it. The TV was on-"The Carol Burnett Show." I was staring at it but nothing was registering. My favorite portion, "As The Stomach Turns", the spoof of daytime soap operas, was convulsing the studio audience but leaving me cold. Monday night after a barren week end, a week end of contemplation and soul-searching-to use a cliche.
So I had fucked the boy. And goddammit! I liked it! My experience with my own sex was limited to two encounters-one in a men's room of the Independent subway (a timid little man who sucked my cock as I watched for interested strangers or the men in blue); the other at a party, an orgy, where after screwing the hostess (a prominent TV actress and mother of four), I staggered into a bedroom to find two males-the handsome, dashing and masculine lead of a TV series about two boys who cover the country in a sports car and another actor currently starring in a Broadway musical based on the life of an old-time vaudevillian-so engrossed in each other's cocks that they couldn't care less who joined them. I started to back out, my prick having gone soft at the sight, when they both stopped and asked me to join in. I shook my head at first and then decided, why not? I don't remember the details. Or is it that I don't want to remember the details?
Anyway, that was it. Now I could add another experience. An experience I was not in the least bit proud of. Bud was a good kid and had more than his share of hang-ups. And what was the genius of an acting coach doing to help his budding student? Why, fucking him, of course! Rotten stupid son-of-a-bitch!
I finally took that long drag on my drink and tuned eye and ear back to the television. Nanette Fabray was overacting again and it wasn't funny. So my mind wandered into other channels.
The hell with it! My intent to humiliate Karen and justify my own actions was souring on me. And I deserved it!
I had spent the week end alone, taking the phone off the hook, playing Richter, Milstein, Van Cliburn, the Beatles, The Stones, Judy Collins, et al. Some of the music meant something to me. Some of it was to ease my guilt-ridden spirit. But, here it is Monday night. I spent the day writing. Two articles to finish-one for that theatre mag, the other for the Voice. And I couldn't concentrate. I saw his face-Bud's-and I heard his whimpering voice. I felt his hands, his mouth, his rectum, all of the sensual sensations again. And I broke a good glass against the wall of the kitchen. Must remember to clean that up today.
I had purposely avoided calling Karen. But I itched to see her. Then again, I didn't know if I could face her.
This was indeed a weird state of affairs. Me, the all knowing, the man with all the answers, the freedom-loving, swinging acting teacher, tortured about fucking a kid.
But, of course it wasn't merely that and I knew it. I did not really have a hang-up about it. I could do it and accept it. But, man! Why not do it without an ulterior motive? Why not do it because you wanted to bang him with no reservations? But that's not the bit, is it, old man? You wanted to practice, right, baby? You wanted to use this kid to bridge the gap between fucking chicks and getting to Jerry, getting to him with enough experience and expertise that it would freak his mind.
Again the gross conceit of the male. Every one of us thinks his cock is the godhead of the world, that it is the lollipop to quiet the crying universe, the joy-stick to give them all a flying fuck, the monument to manhood. Hey there, man! It's just a cock! A flabby mixture of muscle and flesh that only needs a good thought to make it the rigid intruder. A cock! A cock, baby! Nothing more! Just that! And don't you ever forget it!
The phone rang. I let it ring at least a dozen times before I answered.
"Chris? Where the hell have you been? I've called all week end... "
"What's the matter, Christine? I'm busy."
"Nothing. I was worried, that's all."
Sure, sure. "About what?"
"For God's sake, Chris! You don't answer your phone for three days! The line was busy so I knew it was off the hook. What do you want me to think?"
"Whatever you want. And you will. Am I not entitled to a private life, madam? It's Monday. What's the big rush? Something coming up? I'll see you tomorrow afternoon." I was annoyed and didn't give a shit if she liked it or not., "There's no rush. What's eating you? Get stood up, sweetie?"
"What's up, Christine? Never mind the small talk."
"There's a party tonight, for that new actor, what's his name? You know, the one who got all the publicity about that Italian actress? I can't remember his name. I'm lousy at names."
"I know the one. But why tell me?"
"Want to go?"
"No."
"Why not? Everyone who is anyone will be there."
"Well, I won't."
"I will. I'll go without you."
"Is that what you called to tell me?"
"Chris, get a hold of yourself. What the hell happened that's causing this anti-social bit with you? Screw the wrong one, honey?" She waited but if she thought I was going to jump to that bait, she was even more lame-brained than I thought. "Come on. Whatever is depressing you this party will take care of it. I hear he's a faggot and all that business was just for publicity. A lot of the gay crowd will be there."
"Big deal. That's not my scene, honey."
"I know. But they'll flip over you. And I want to be seen with a hunk of a man. And you're it."
"What's the matter with Tommy?"
"Oh, him! He's gone out with that dippy actress, what's her name? The blonde one?"
"Doesn't matter." Why can't she ever remember anyone's name, for Christ sake?
"Yes, it does. You know, the gorgeous one in your class. He's been after her for a month now."
Roz, huh? I suddenly saw her face, the great beauty, the body. What the hell would she be doing with Tommy? He would bore the hell out of her.
"Roz! Isn't that her name?"
"Yes, dear."
"Well anyway-that one. So how about it? Take me, please. I can't go alone, for God's sake!"
"Why not?"
"Stupid question, honey." She waited. I was weakening. Not because I wanted to go to a party. Good God! That's the last thing I wanted to do. But maybe I could get away from myself.
"All right. When?"
She almost screamed with delight. "In one hour. It'll take me that long to get ready. Eleven-thirty, in front of the Hilton. Okay?"
"Okay." I almost hung up but held a moment. "Christine?"
"Yes?"
"Would you please wear something which isn't going to stop traffic for a change? Simplicity is the word."
"What the hell you do you mean?" Her voice suddenly became distorted and mushy, so I knew she had thrown something into Tier mouth and the rest of the conversation would be liquid and squishy. "I have the greatest taste when it comes to clothes of anyone you'll ever know. Who the hell are you talking to?" She was furious and I smiled, for the first time in days.
"Okay. You've got great taste. I've always said that. Wear an afghan for all I care." I hung up and stuck my finger in my ear to clear the imagined food from it. I took another long drink of the Scotch. And she did-wear an afghan. Or at least it looked like ah afghan. I stood there with my mouth open as she stepped down the stairway and crossed to me in the Hilton lobby. Her mink was open and whatever it was she was wearing underneath, three people slammed into each other as their eyes bugged, a man missed the escalator and almost ground himself to hamburger when his foot got caught, a lady poured Scotch into her lap sitting at one of the side tables and the doorman went around the revolving door twice just to make sure.
I was simply dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, tweed jacket and tight-fitting bells. Together we looked like two people who just happened to pass each other-total strangers going their separate ways.
"Chris! You're gorgeous!" After that, she looked at me with her Shirley Temple look and waited for my compliments for her outfit.
"And as usual, Christine, you're unbelievable. But of course, you wanted me to say that, didn't you?"
"Bitch!" She giggled. She had made an impression. It didn't matter whether or not it was a good one, just as long as it was some kind of impression.
The man got us a cab and we were whisked off up Sixth Avenue, the cab driver adjusting his glasses and almost clipping a half-dozen cabs as he tried to figure us out through the rear-view mirror.
She was laughing and giddily going over the list of just who would be there. Everyone obviously out to impress everyone else. The typical New York "in" party. They were such a fucking bore that I sometimes just walked out without saying a word to anyone. My invites to parties were few and far between as a result. But I could care less.
We pulled up in front of the impressive-looking building just off Madison in the seventies. Christine grandly paid the driver, her opportunity to impress him with her male escort for the evening, a paid hustler. He looked at me with a smirk. I stuck my tongue out at him.
When we got of the elevator, we could hear the party going full swing down the hall. The door was open and loud talking, dirty-mouthed "theatre people" were doing their thing.
"Christine! Gawd! You made it!" Whatever it was swept to the door and embraced as much of her as he could maneuver. He glanced at me. "Chris. Nice to see you." A lie, of course. He hated my guts.
Melvin Newton. A tired, faggoty ex-dancer who was now trying to make it big as a director. Bad, man! What little hair he had was teased up and around, giving him Santa's elf appearance as he minced away into the crowded living room with Madam X on his arm, both of them squealing hellos to acquaintances they hadn't seen for at least a day.
I stood there with egg on my face and didn't really focus on anything or anyone. I tried to locate the kitchen or bar, or wherever Peter Pan kept the booze. I found it almost deserted. A kitchen, I supposed, with dozens of bottles and glasses all over the place. Ice cubes were melting in a pot, dips and cheeses were drying up, the whole effect dismal and nauseating. I found the Scotch. Chivas Regal. I tested it to see if it was the real thing. It was. I was familiar with the habit of buying house brands and filling up the top name bottles with that bilge. Had done it myself several times. But it was Chivas all right. I downed one hurriedly and poured another.
"May I?"
She was tall, her eyes on a level with mine, her long black hair covering one breast, exposing the other. If she was dressed, whatever she was wearing looked like nothing at all, she knew what she was doing. Gorgeous.
"Sure. Water?"
"Uh-huh." She shook her head, her hair moving slowly from side to side. Studied. Every move she made rehearsed. Her whole body schooled in attitudes.
She took the drink and sipped it slowly.
"Who are you?"
"Chris... Greene."
It meant nothing to her obviously.
"What do you do?"
I watched her. Should I answer that?
"Who are you?"
"Sybil, But don't let it bother you. I hate it too."
"It's nice." We watched each other for a moment.
"I think I'll kiss you." She moved slowly towards me, her lips parting slightly, her eyes dropping into slits. Her lips were warm and moist. Her breath was heavy with alcohol. Her body pressed against me. Her hand was on me and I responded.
"Urn-That's nice. Nice cock, baby." She was whispering against my mouth as her hand rubbed my cock into stiffness.
I pulled away.
"You don't waste any time."
"Haven't got any. Get a lot while you're young. My grandmother used to say that." She threw her head back and laughed a deep throaty sound that in a second turned me off. Too easy. And I wanted somebody I would have to work at tonight.
"Chris?" The Madam was standing in the door, sans mink this time. The sight of her blinded me for a moment.
Sybil turned around and looked her up and down. She laughed then. I thought she was going to get hysterical for a minute there.
"You've... got... to... be... kidding!" She stared at Christine with disbelief. "Did you make that yourself, dear?"
Christine's eyes flashed. But she would have a comeback. Of that I was sure.
"What it cost me for this thing you couldn't make in a month on your back, honey." She turned to me and smiled sweetly. "Chris, I have someone I would like you to meet."
For once, Christine, baby, you came to the rescue at the right time.
"Excuse me." I disengaged myself, her eyes looking me up and down and then to Christine.
"Are you expensive?" Her mouth brayed the words at me.
"Better believe it." I glanced at her and walked out of the kitchen, the Scotch hitting me hard as I tossed it off.
"Sorry I interrupted."
"Don't be. I make the moves. Female cannibals are not my style."
"I'll remember that." She grasped my arm and pushed me before her through the crowd. I could see where we were going and for a moment I held back.
"I know them."
She was a little surprised. "You do?"
"Yeah. And I'd just as soon not... "
"I don't mean them." She pointed at two young and attractive people moving towards us.
But it was too late. They were headed our way. I couldn't escape now.
In my acting days I had an affair with a chick who was strung out. We were both eager and anxious, both of us consuming energy on the stage and in bed, trying to burn ourselves out. She was a virgin when I met her. A sweet little kid with big eyes and big tits who thought the whole thing was a Debbie Reynolds merry-go-round. She was everybody's darling and held off all advances. Until we met. Then it was love at first sight, or at least that's what we thought.
Now she was married to an actor, a fag who drove her crazy most of the time with his extracurricular activities. Also, he drank too much. At one time he was handsome and well-built, the typical juvenile with a lot on the ball. Now he was approaching thirty and looked as though he was racing toward forty.
"Chris! How fantastic!"
Jesus Christ! She hasn't changed a bit. Still with the wide-eyed wonder, the sincere delight in meeting an old friend. There were tears in her eyes as we embraced.
"Ellen. How are you?"
Over her shoulder I was looking at him-Michael. His eyes were pouting and bloodshot as he stared back. Once, long ago he had made a pass at me. He was drunk and he was lonely. He told me he would like to feel what it would be like to get fucked by Ellen's old lover. I told him we would have to pass that experience up. I was not interested. Since then, we were enemies. And that was just fine with me.
"Michael."
He just nodded and then turned away for another drink.
I held Ellen away from me and looked at her. Strange how life had not affected her beauty, I thought. She was still a lovely girl, slight, with outstanding breasts, a pale face with hardly any make-up and long, straight, strawberry-blonde hair. She giggled freely and hugged me again.
"Oh! I've missed you, Chris!"
I decided not to deal with that.
"What are you doing in New York? I thought you were touring with some musical or something."
"We were, but it closed in Cleveland last week. Now we're at liberty." She looked into my eyes and there it was. The deep sadness, the loneliness, the fright.
I pulled her away, glancing at Christine. The lady was in good form tonight. She smiled and with an understanding nod she moved away into the mass of humanity.
"Ellen, let's find a spot... to talk." We moved out of the room to a dressing alcove. There were a couple of people there, kissing and groping. They stopped when we entered and without so much as giving us a look, they left. We were alone. We sat on the floor, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder. We sat for a long time without speaking.
I thought for a moment that I felt her shudder. I tipped her head back and she was crying.
"Oh, Chris! I'm so... so... " She couldn't finish. The tears rolled easily down her stricken face and she turned from me.
"Ellen baby. Easy! Easy does it." I reached for her and brought her back. I smiled then. It seems that my position lately is that of the comforter. Kids, lonely lost kids were crying on my shoulder a good deal of late. There are a lot of tears in this world.
"Chris. Remember... remember when we were going together? Oh, I guess you've forgotten that, haven't you?"
I chuckled and squeezed her tightly.
"Oh, sure. Just like that. In fact, the day we broke up, I forgot all about you."
Then she did cry, great heaving sobs as she rocked against me.
"Hey, Ellen! I was kidding!"
"I... know. It was so... great, Chris! I loved you so much. So very much. What... what happened to us?"
"What difference does it make? It won't help, Ellen. She was quiet then in silent agreement, I guess. "Do you want a drink?"
"No! Let's just sit here like this. I need you, Chris. I'm so... lonely." She held me tight, her thin little arms around my chest, her mouth burrowing into my neck. Suddenly, I got a vision of Bud, his loneliness, his despair. Children, sere wed-up and vulnerable.
"Well! Isn't this the sweetest little scene you've ever seen!"
I glanced up. Michael was leaning against the door, a glass in his hand, his face a mess, his eyes half-closed with drink. He was snarling at us, his voice much too loud.
"Take it easy, Mike." I spoke as easily as I could, but I meant to make it strong enough for him to know there was a threat there too.
"I'm taking it very easy, Mr. Teach. Something I learned in your class. Or have you forgotten? I used to study with you too."
I remembered. He was in the class for two sessions. He couldn't take it. Acting to him was fun not work, he said. I told him to go play with himself. And he did.
"Michael, you've had too much to... "
"Bitch! Don't tell me what I've had too much of! If you want to know, if you really want to know, I've had too much of you! That's what I've had too much of! Your sweet, suffering little face!"
I drew up to my feet, bringing Ellen with me. If there was going to be trouble, I wanted to be standing up.
"Watch you voice, boy! You're talking too loud!" I moved towards him a little, my mouth tightening.
There was fear in his eyes as he straightened up. But he was too drunk to really be afraid.
"Come on, wife, dear! We're leaving!"
Ellen squeezed my arm and moved away from me towards him. Suddenly, without warning, he lashed out and struck her across the face with the back of his hand. She staggered with the blow and fell back against me."
The whole room turned red then. The lavender paint on the walls was bright, blood red; Ellen's dress; Sybil's face which suddenly appeared from nowhere, smiling with triumph; the drapes in the living room, Michael's face and suit and my fist plunging into his mouth. His body sailed back info the room, clearing a path of terrorized guests. I would have followed if it hadn't been for Ellen holding my arm.
"CHRIS! Don't! He's drunk! Oh, God, why did I come here? Why?" She cried out then and moved quickly to kneel next to him on the floor. He was groggy, the blood flowing from his lip, his face ashen white. She helped him to his feet and led him to the vestibule where Melvin was waiting for them with their coats. His fleshy feminine face was contorted with rage as he hissed at her.
I was across the room in a minute, pushing and mincing faggot away from her.
"Ellen! Let me take you home."
"No, Chris! I'm all right. I'll get a cab." She turned to me with a look I had seen often so many years ago. "Forget about us. Please, just forget about us!"
And then they were gone.
"Really, Christopher! Was that necessary?"
His pursed lips were close to my face as he twisted his hand on his waist, the other fluttering to the guests.
"I mean, really!"
"Get the fuck out of my way, Melvin!" I turned to the room to see if Christine was anywhere in sight. She wasn't. So I left.
She was standing in the street supporting him with one arm as she tried to flag a cab with the other. I barely glanced at them as I dashed out and grabbed the first taxi which came my way. Between the two of us, we got him into the back seat and we were off.
She gave the address without even acknowledging the fact that I was with them, my arm protectively around her shoulders as she propped him up against the far side.
"Thank you, Chris." We were silent after that, each with our own thoughts. I knew she was thinking ahead. She always did. She was building up in her mind what was going to take place when we got to her apartment. She was trying to figure out how she felt about me-the evening, her condition, his condition. She would come to several conclusions and eventually dismiss them all, coping with the realities when they presented themselves. She was still wasting time, analyzing, probing and then relaxing into it. I had become used to the routine.
We got him in the door and she switched on a light. She gestured for me to stay where I was and she guided him back into the darkness of the other room in the small apartment. There were moans and drunken protests but after a few minutes, she came back.
"Again, thank you, Chris. He'll be all right. I'm used to this." She smiled wanly and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. "He'll sleep it off. He's out like a light. And for that, I am truly grateful." We stood there a moment, looking at each other.
It could have happened then. We could have kissed and maybe I would have taken her right there on the rug. But the moment passed and she turned away from me.
"Would you like some coffee?"
I hesitated. We lost the moment and I was a little disgusted with her, him and myself. The evening was a disaster and I was silently cursing Christine for getting me involved in it.
"Well, I... "
"It won't take a moment." She turned to me with a pleading look in her eyes. "Could you-Would you stay for a few minutes, please?"
I looked down at my feet and then around the apartment briefly. Something told me to cut out. But I didn't.
"Okay, coffee. And thanks."
She turned abruptly and went into the tiny kitchen off the main room. She switched on a light, starting with the coffee.
"Ellen? How long has this been going on?"
There was a pause.
"What? How long has what been going on?"
"This."
She came to the door. "Like forever." She sighed and returned to the stove. "It's not so bad. It could be worse, I guess."
Dear little rational Ellen.
"Yeah, I suppose so. Like you could be happy for instance."
She was silent.
"Yeah."
After a few minutes, she came into the room and reached for my hand.
"Come in, Chris. Don't stand there like that. I'm sorry."
She walked ahead of me and switched on a lamp over a sorry-looking sofa and an even sorrier-looking rug. I was a little shocked at the appearance of the place. She had always been so tidy and neat.
She saw my look. "We've only been here a couple of days. It's not ours. A friend of mine. He's on the road with George M. It's a mess, isn't it?" She looked around with me. "I'm going to clean tomorrow." She dropped down on the sofa and opened her coat. "Look at that. I haven't even taken this off." She seemed terribly small and vulnerable then. I wanted to hold her. But I didn't. I waited.
I sat next to her and watched her closely.
"Ellen, why do you do it? Christ, honey, you're a beautiful chick. You could have anyone. Not that... that fag!"
She winced when I said the word, turning her face away. "He's not... " But she stopped and twisted her fingers.
"Of course he is. And you know it." I had determined to put it on the line, if only to absolve myself for a little guilt racing through my veins, my muscles, my aching bones. "I remember a lot of things, Ellen. Like how much you like it. You need it as much as anyone, perhaps even more. And he sure as hell isn't giving it to you."
She looked at her hands, her mouth twitching.
"It's not his fault."
"Shit!"
"Okay. But we made the bargain and we'll keep it."
"Why? Is there a law or something?"
"There is to me and to him. You don't feel the way we do, Chris. I know that. And maybe you're right and we're wrong. But we made the deal and we'll stick to it."
"Okay. Sure!... And you can correspond between mental wards. You're not that stupid, Ellen."
She stood up them moved to the window, her back to me, her small shoulders tightened and tense.
"Maybe I am. Maybe I always was. We were... in love, 'way back then. When you're in love, your lover is the brightest and the kindest and the smartest human being in the whole world. Remember?" She turned back to me, our long ago dialogue becoming trite and ridiculous as she painfully repeated it. "But was I really, Chris? Wasn't I just a stupid, dumb little pot? Those words you used to me on that last night? Aren't I the same now?" She looked at me, not with a questioning look nor did she appear to wait for an answer. She was stating it and it would seem she had accepted it.
I was silent and our eyes met. Yes, Ellen, in many ways you were that stupid dumb little pot I named you so long ago. But so was I. Am I the same now, too?
"Hold me, Chris. Give me something to... to cling to... to believe in if only for a few minutes. Hold me, Chris!" She was crying then, her arms outstretched before her, her head lowered, her brilliant hair hanging across it, cascading downward with a glistening sheen which seemed to light her up in that darkened corner.
I got up and moved to her, taking her into my arms softly. The poor kid. What a mess she got herself into this time!
It could have been an hour or five seconds. The coffee was done. We both smelled it simultaneously. And it sounded as though it was threatening to boil over.
I released her as she ran to the kitchen, tossing her coat on a chair.
"Saved-by the bell."
Her voice was soft and filled with despair. I heard cups and saucers rattling, silverware and then the pouring sound of hot coffee.
We sat next to each other and sipped the biting hot liquid. It felt good to me. I was grateful for it.
There was no sound, save for the sound of intermittent snoring from the other room and the other sound of our own heartbeats as we clung to each other without touching.
"I can feel your strength, Chris, and if helps so much. I haven't felt that kind of strength for a long, very long time. It warms me."
I suddenly knew that I would fuck her before I left tonight. Perhaps she knew it too. We were both silent, waiting, our breathing quickened, avoiding each other's eyes, conscious of our bodies.
I placed the cup on the table before me and turned to her. She, too, put down her cup and slipped into my arms without a sound. I could feel those amazing breasts against my chest and the tightness came into my crotch, a heat between my legs. I kissed her neck, her ears, pushing back the hair and sucking on the lobes lightly. Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, digging into me, her breath stopping for a moment and releasing in a gasping moan.
My hands found those breasts and I squeezed them lightly, moving my fingers around them, circling them, delighted with the buoyant feel. She was panting now and making little "no, no" sounds against my cheek as my mouth sought hers, to close over her lips. I drowned those sounds with my own lips, slipping my fingers around to her back, to find the zipper. She resisted but only halfheartedly as it eased down her back, the sensation of it causing her to move against me. It was down to her waist now. Then I reached up to unsnap the bra. It gave easily and I could feel her body sigh with relief as her full breasts burst out of their confinement.
She was almost frantic now and I was sure that this gorgeous little chick hadn't been fucked in a long, long time. Well she would get it tonight. She would get all the-frustrated emotion out of her system and I would release a little myself. It should be a battle between us, a battle neither one of us wanted to win.
She pulled away and pushed her dress forward until it slipped over her arms and fell into her lap. I released the bra and it, too dropped before her. I moved back so that I could see the play of the soft lamplight on her fantastic breasts. They were fabulous, magnificently shaped and luscious. They took my breath away as they did many years ago when I first laid her and mauled them with a virgin's crudity.
Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed as I bent to them. A chill went over her as I placed my lips between them, my hands cupping them and bringing them together on each side of my face. What a way to go! Smothered between ripe fruit, resilient, angelically soft flesh. My fingers touched the nipples. They were hard and rubbery to the touch. Her hands came up to my ears and held on tight. I could hear her heart pounding, could feel her labored breathing as I caressed the velvet slickness of those out-of-sight tits. Ellen, baby, you could be rolling in bread for the rest of your life on these possessions alone. They were to be worshipped.
I could feel her head against mine, her lips pressed to the top as she kissed my hair and her body started to relax a little. She was all muscle and nerve before but now I could feel her begin to respond to my lovemaking.
"Turn out the lights and come back to me," I said lightly into the crevice before my lips slipped across and latched onto one of those rose-colored nipples. She gasped aloud and reared up, the reaction I wanted.
I moved away as she went to the switch, her breasts moving easily. They dropped down low and stared at the floor as she bent over to slip out of the dress. She was in panties now, the briefest of panties and as she stood up and turned to me I gave out with an approving gasp.
"Good Christ, Ellen! You're gorgeous! You haven't changed a bit! I had forgotten! Come here quick!"
I stood up and with a speed unusual for me I shucked my clothes. As she moved close to my body, slipping her arms around me, my cock hit her waist. She had thrown off her heels and she was now the little girl I remembered.
My arms went around her and I lifted her bodily off the floor, her tits at my shoulders, my hands gripping her buttocks. Her head fell forward and her hair completely covered us. It was dark in there and I let my hands do the rest as I dropped her down easily and ripped off her fragile panties. Then we were together.
No, she had not been with a man perhaps not for a year or more. Hands found me, everywhere, moving down to grip my ass then up to my waist, to my shoulders and then down to my ass again.
"Chris! Oh, good God, Chris! You feel so good! Let me touch all of you, let me remember this." She pushed her arms between us and gripped my pectoral muscles, kneading them as I was her luscious tits. We were standing there in the middle of the room my cock pressed into her. I pushed closer and it was as if I intended to fuck her in the navel. There was hysteria in our movements now.
I felt her hand suddenly close around my cock, her fingers running from the tip to the base, cupping my balls, rolling them, massaging the cock with both hands, almost bringing me to orgasm.
There was so much hair that I couldn't get to her mouth, but I wanted to kiss her then. She pulled away from me and before I could stop her, she was kneeling before me, her mouth stretching over the head of my cock and then slipping down, down to the base.
The sensation was incredible! Ellen! Where the hell had she learned to do that? Then it suddenly hit me! Of course! With a fag for a husband he would want it that way. So, he'd probably trained her to do it to him. And she was oh! so good! WOW! Her lips were searing hot as they slipped back and forth, my cock jumping with each movement. I was on the brink, the very idea of her doing such a thing driving me into spasms of blinding desire, but this would never do. Perhaps she and Michael had made it that way more times than not, bit if he couldn't fuck the bejeezus out of her, I could! And I was going to!
I reached down and yanked her away brutally. She seemed surprised, staring up at me through the tangled hair. Before she could speak, I brought her back up to me and kissed her roughly, my tongue shooting into her mouth, my hands across her buttocks, around to her hips. She was moaning now and wiggling against me, her hot cunt pressed into my thighs. She was ready and so was I!
I swung her up into my arms and carried her to the sofa. We dropped down onto it with a crash and in a moment I was lying between her legs. I was so hot that I wanted to plunge into her without a moment's hesitation. But it suddenly struck me that if she hadn't been fucked for some time she would be tight and dry. So we would have to use something. She was panting now into my ear, her hips rolling and thrashing about on the cushions as she slipped her legs around mine, gripping me tightly. Her breasts were flattened out beneath me, her mouth was on my neck biting, her fingers pressing into the small of my back.
I was trying to free a hand to get it to my mouth. Saliva. I would have to use saliva. No time to get up now and get something. It would have to do. I finally made it and spit into my palm, slipping my hand between us to grasp my cock. Wow! I was hot as a poker. The thing leaped in my fingers as I wiped the spit up and down the shaft.
With my knees I forced her legs further apart, locating her cunt with my fingers and placing the cock head against it. As she felt me there, her legs whipped up and around my waist and it slipped in. It was tight all right, throbbing, white-hot and tight as all hell.
Our mouths met then and we slammed against each other, trying to devour, our hands gripping, holding, tearing. I was moving even deeper into that tight enclosure and I could feel it open to receive me. The lips of her cunt were gripping me, drawing me in and I was pressing harder and harder.
She was screaming now, a weird, slathering sound that was blowing into my mouth. Her fingers dug into my waist to push me away but I wouldn't budge. Her little heels were pounding together across my back, her thighs scissor-locking around me, then opening with abandon and closing again with a vise-like hold.
I pressed for one final time and I was there! Deep into the liquid fire of her vagina, up to the balls, the heat almost painfully unbearable as I held myself there with all the strength I could muster. She was panting with terror and agony now-the feeling driving her wild but resisting it. She pulled her mouth away from mine several times to scream obscenities at me. Then, mixed in with the vulgarisms were soft easy words of love, words of lust and passion. I paid little attention to any of them, securing myself within her and preparing to start the rhythmic fucking which I knew she was waiting for also.
I pressed up away from her and she breathed again, gasping for breath, hoarsely choking on her own spittle. I looked down at her and smiled.
"Ellen, baby, you've missed this for a long time. Now, I'm, going to fuck you, fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. Wasted, baby. A wasted gorgeous baby like you. Oh, wow! How you need to get fucked!"
She murmured and shook her head slowly from side to side, not really hearing me, just knowing that she was in ecstasy and she didn't want it to stop. I smiled and determined this would be a long one, one she wouldn't soon forget.
I drew out of her almost all the way and slammed back, sinking my cock into the shaftway of her being with delight, every fibre of that love muscle kissing the sides of her cunt with a rapacious appetite. It was the greatest-tight and smooth, the velvet wetness of her vagina caressing my cock, sucking on it, giving it service as no other could. It was wild as I drew out of her again and again and then plunged into her like a battering ram.
At first, she responded with fear, her hands pressing on my chest to push me away, as her mouth opened with a voiceless cry. Her eyes were wise as she stared at me with wonder. Then, after a few long, drawn-out strokes into her, she started to respond, pressing her hips up to me, meeting me stroke for stroke. She was relaxing now and the pressure around my cock was easier, giving it more play, allowing it to circle around in her and give her more pleasure than she had felt in years. She was smiling now and giggling now and then, her eyes closed, her body doing what it would without restraint.
Her breathing was now picking up as was mine. We were coming to our first orgasm so I decided not to hold back but to let it go, meet hers and climax together. I whipped myself into a frenzy, pistoning in and out of her a dozen times or more, feeling as if my cock would explode, tear me apart with its lust. Her eyes flew open and she started to cry out with moaning, deep sounds in her throat.
WWWWWOOOOOWWWWWEEEEE!!!! With rockets, bells, sirens, Ravel's "Bolero", cymbals, atomic bombs, all that shit you read about! It was all there, man! WOW!
I tried to drive right through her body. I was trying to shoot through her into the sofa, onto the floor beneath, into the apartment below, whatever! I felt as big as the world, the greatest fucker of all time! Man, oh, man! What a fuck she was! WOW! And would we do it again? I pistoned in and out of her, slowing down a little, dropping all I had, planting her with my own seed, my own fantastic juices, the fluid which would bring her to life again! WOW, BABY! Take it ALL! TAKE IT ALLLLL, BABY!!
I suddenly became conscious of a scream, long, wailing and terribly close. My eyes came open abruptly as I looked at her. She was in utter, total and complete rapture. And she was screaming! I dropped quickly to her and put my mouth over hers to stifle the scream. All I needed was for that weirdo to come staggering out of the bedroom and make a scene.
Not that he would be upset over his wife getting fucked but he might want to join in and I was only there for her. And I would be for a few more hours. Because Ellen, baby, you are going to get it again tonight, ready or not.
She was hysterically crying against my lips, her body shaking and convulsed with her giant release. Her hands held my head to hers with all her strength, her arms pinioning my shoulders to hers, her hips wide and relaxed. My cock was still planted deeply within her having lost none of its rigidity. This was too good. It was just about the greatest fuck I had had in a decade and I was not going to let it go.
I slowly started to rotate my hips, slipping my hands away from her until my arms were stretched full-length above her head towards the arm of the sofa. My fingers bent over the edge and I gripped the arm to use it as a means of pulling myself into her, slamming my body ever deeper into hers. She reacted with surprise but quickly realized that I was going to fuck her again, so she relaxed into it, a contented moan coming into my ear when she pulled her lips away and held me even tighter.
"I'm relaxed now, Chris. It will be better now. I was... frightened before. It'll be much better this time. I want you! I want you so much! Take me, Chris! Take me!"
I didn't bother to answer her. I was busy. I continued to plunge into and out of her easily and with control, watching her for moments of supreme pleasure so that I would repeat that move, that special action to get the greatest response from her.
I released my hold on the sofa and pressed up away from her. I looked down that exquisite body, her breasts, those famous tits, now firm, standing in twin peaks, the nipples watching me like rose-colored eyes. I bent my mouth to them and played my tongue across them easily. As I did so, I slipped my cock out of her cunt and moved down her body, my tongue tracing a path to her navel. My hands continued to grip both breasts, rolling them, tantalizing them with every conceivable motion.
I kissed her belly, the soft, silken skin. Then I bit her hipbone lightly, just nipping it, then opening my mouth to get a better hold. She thrashed away from me, but I held on sinking my teeth into her flesh, causing her to cry out and try to push me head away. As she rolled up I reached down to grasp her thighs, lifting her legs high in the air as my tongue followed the curves of her body, slipping down her thigh and then back up to the clit. She was almost insane with spasmodic gyrations, her legs kicking high, her hands everywhere. I bit the inside of her thigh, drawing the skin into my mouth leaving a hickey there and then flashed my tongue back to her clit before she could respond to that pain. She squealed with delight, almost rolling us off the bed as she pushed her cunt into my face, her hands gripping the back of my head. But I am a fucker, lady, not a sucker! So you'll have to make do with that.
I rose up on my knees between her legs keeping them high and wrapping them around my waist. I reached under and gripped her buttocks, watching her tits roll back and forth from side to side, her tight flat stomach contracting with passion.
My cock was flaming and pointed up between her legs, peeking out in the crevice of her cunt, teasing her there as I rubbed it up and down but not allowing it to enter her. She was frantic, desperately seeking to get it into position to slip back into her. I wanted it just as much as she but I had more control. Her legs were locked around me so I reached up then and grabbed her tits massaging them brutally. She was an animal, cursing, spitting, kicking wildly, her hands seeking my cock, gripping it with fingers of steel. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth-and her tongue darted in and out. I knew what she wanted.
Michael, you've done your work well. She was on her way to becoming not only a great fuck but also one of the best cocksuckers I had ever come across. (Excuse the pun.) She wanted my cock in her mouth, but she wouldn't get it. I would tease her, let her think it could be but her cunt was home for my cock and there it would be soon, battering the hell out of that abode. Patience, dear little Ellen. Patience!
"Chris! Please! Let me taste you again! Please! I want to feel your hardness inside me!"
"Easy, Ellen girl, just take it easy!"
"Let me suck you! I want to show you how much I love you, need you! Oh, God! Let me show you!"
She tried to pull my cock up and away from her and to swing herself around to get it into her mouth but, I held tight.
"Easy, girl! I'll do it! I'll give it all to you-but my way, Ellen baby!"
"Oh, God! Chris! Any way, just let me have it!"
I dropped my head to her tits again and sucked on them as if they were the most delectable yet the most perishable items on earth. I gripped them with both hands, drawing on the nipple hard, feeling it blow up in my mouth. I was losing a little control myself, what with her hands all over my cock, slipping the skin back and forth, masturbating the hell out of it. It was throbbing with unbridled intensity as it banged against my leg. Easy, girl! For Christ sake! I'll shoot my fucking load all over the both of us if you don't stop that action! It was no use. She was maniacally torturing me with all kinds of gyrations. We were both into it and nothing could stop it now.
I pushed away from her and reached down to grip my cock, pulling her hands away. It was full-blooded and powerful, larger than ever before as I looked at it, the head inflamed and purple with desire, the muscular shaft itself filling my hand, my fingers barely reaching around it. Preserve it that way, Christ man! Cast it in bronze! It's gorgeous and it's all yours, Ellen-cunt-honey-pie-angel-tits-lovely-fuck. At least for tonight.
Her eyes were closed, her hands gripping the sides of the sofa as she prepared to receive me. There was a moment there, a slight hesitation, a stop in time, when neither one of us breathed or moved. I was poised over her, her legs thrown wide, her lovely body defenseless and wanting, her vagina open to the world, her whole being pulsing and tense. We were two healthy, sexy and desirable people and in a second we would be joined, so we could hold that moment, tease ourselves with denial for just a short fraction of time.
With a tremendous plunge I sank into her completely, totally. I touched bottom and I thought we both might pass out with the ultimate thrill. She did not scream, nor did I make a sound. It was an extravagant reality as we fit together perfectly.
I held there without moving, joined to her, welded to her body. And then with a cry I pulled myself free, out all the way and then dropped into her again. She lay there receiving me, hardly moving, as if she were being raped without consent. I withdrew again and plunged to the depths again and then again. With each one, she reacted a little more until I was pistoning in and out of her with all the force I could muster, she meeting me with her whole body, thrusting up to me, battering me with her fragile frame, torturing it with cruel convulsions.
We were into the rhythm, the powerful animalistic rhythm of our sex, feeling each other totally without reservation. We were a machine, a fucking machine, well-oiled and synchronized perfectly to function without a hitch. It was as if we could continue this motion forever, our mechanism beautifully coordinated to perform as created.
There was no thought, only sensation. It was glorious and it was a supreme contest. Unvoiced agreement to sustain as long as possible, to relinquish only as a last resort, to prove our worth with sublime performance.
Ellen, you are good, you are made for this. If I never fuck again, this will have been the greatest.
We didn't hear the voice at the same time. I became conscious of it first. The sound, the insinuation into our ecstasy was almost blasphemous.
"Disturbing anything, am I?"
We stopped or, rather, I stopped. Ellen gripped me tighter, continuing to move her hips against me, her breath choking out, her eyes closed, her teeth cutting into her lower lip.
He stood there, naked, with his hands on his hips, a giant erection aimed directly at me face, a vicious smile on his still handsome features.
"Michael?" Her voice registered the name softly, incredulously.
He was staring at me, however, ignoring his wife. There was no mistaking his look. There was lust cut into every line of his face, his body was moving slightly, his right hand gripping his cock, massaging it slowly, his tongue whipping over his lips.
"May I join you?"
Why I stayed in that ridiculous position (well, after all it is ridiculous, isn't it? Especially when someone is watching you; especially when that someone is the broad's husband, gay or not), I'll never know. But I was on the brink of orgasm when I heard his voice and it was now gone. My cock was still lodged within her body, it was still hard and hot and I was still unsatiated. But I was in a weird position-in more ways that one.
Ellen gripped me closer, fear coming into her eyes, her body growing slightly cold.
"Chris?" She panted it into my ear.
And we all held our positions as if frozen forever, three pillars of salt.
Who would make the first move? I was a little surprised but pleased to see that Ellen was acting with as much control as she could. She did not seem to panic and obviously felt that I could handle it, whatever it would be.
I was sure that Michael could tell by the expression on my face that there was no way he could "join" us. I was into his wife at the moment, wanted to continue, intended to continue, and he could go take a flying fuck at the moon.
"Why don't you just toddle back to your bed, little boy? We have some unfinished business here, business I definitely intend to finish." My voice was calm but insistent.
He continued to stare at my body.
"You have a beautiful ass, Mr. Teach." He indolently, fondled his cock as his eyes roamed up an down my prostrate form.
"Forget it, buster." I was curt and getting more than annoyed at this drunken, aging juvenile.
He got serious for a moment then and stopped his manipulations of his fiery-red cock. "You are fucking my wife, mister!"
I almost laughed aloud then. No shit! And here I thought I was riding a brood mare! How 'bout that!
"So?"
"So... I would like you to get the fuck off that sofa and get the hell out of here. Right now!" He was getting belligerent and that mean look I had seen at the party came back into his face. I looked him up and down. No doubt about it, he had been a beauty in his day. A terrific body, going a little soft here and there, extremely handsome face and a sensuality which would have, had he played his cards right, carried him to the top in this whoring profession. But, at this moment, he was bugging the shit out of me. And I was getting a little impatient to get back to Ellen.
I drew away from her and stood up next to the couch. I stared at him as his eyes dropped to my cock, standing rigid and proud before me. His eyes bugged open and he gasped aloud, the sound almost pitiful in its naked need.
"Please." It was soft, childlike and whimpering. He was not even looking into my face, his concentration fully on my hips. "Please! Let me suck it! Please!" He started to move forward involuntarily, his hand reaching out.
Before I could move, Ellen was on her feet in front of me, pressing her back against me as she faced him.
"MICHAEL! Get out of here! Now! Get out!"
He stood there watching us. He was burning up with desire and I knew he would have to have an orgasm soon or he would do something desperate. Give the kid credit! It would appear that he was trying. But he was losing the battle.
"Ellen, please! Let me! I need a man, Ellen! You don't understand! You never did!"
"I do understand, Michael. But this is wrong! Now, go to bed, please. I'll be right there in a moment. I'll help you."
He started to alternate between crying and cursing her. "But I don't want you to help me! I want to touch him! His body! I need him, Ellen! Get out of the way! I need him! Please!"
I didn't believe the whole thing. What the fuck am I doing, standing buck-naked in this room, with a gorgeous broad pressed against me, her wild tits within reach, her body aching for another good fuck, and we're facing a faggot who wants my body! It's crazy! I started to laugh then, laugh loudly and a little insanely perhaps. We were an incredible sight to behold! I must think of a way of using this some day, I told myself. In the meantime, it's a bloody riot! WOW!
She turned to me. "Please, Chris! Don't laugh at him!"
I stared at her as I laughed into her inflamed face.
"Him? What makes you think... I'm laughing at him?"
She was perplexed.
"At us, baby! US! It's grotesque, Ellen-tits! Don't you see?"
Obviously she didn't. She looked hurt then, crossing her arms across her chest in a belatedly modest gesture.
"I think you'd better go, Chris. If you don't mind."
"No! Please! Don't go!"
It was Michael, reaching for her, pulling her away and then stepping in her place in front of me.
Before I could stop him, he was kneeling before me taking my cock into his hands and sinking it into his mouth. He reached quickly around and gripped my buttocks, pulling me to him forcefully, my cock plunging full-length up to the balls in his throat. I couldn't react immediately because it was all too quick and I was still coming out of my giddy hysteria.
I reached quickly for his head to push him away, but oh, baby! Was he good! If I thought Ellen was good, Bud was good-this boy was a master! I felt things I didn't think possible as he sucked and tongued my cock to the heights of excitement. I thought I would explode into a million pieces as we fought there, him on his knees, gagging, giving out with guttural moans and slurping noises as he drew it out and licked across the head, holding it with one hand as the other gripped my ass with almost superhuman strength.
I must be honest and admit that I didn't want him to stop. It was sheer heaven! But my stomach was turning over and I thought I might retch any moment.
If I had stopped for a moment and observed this scene from a distance there is the possibility that I might start hysterically laughing and go right out of this world to another planet.
Ellen was fighting him from the back, hitting his shoulders with her fists, pulling at him, screaming as many filthy words as she could think of at the back of his head. It was a three-way battle so completely preposterous that I hoped I could forget it as soon as it ended to save me from a lifetime of hilarity.
With a great surge of anger, I wrested myself away from him and sent him sprawling back across the living room up against a chair. It was then that I saw he was having an orgasm, his come flying all over himself, the rug, and hitting the coffee table. He was screaming with passion and release as he came, his body spasmodically jumping with fulfillment.
What happened next was beyond my control. The sight of his ejaculation sent a thrill through me and I turned and grabbed Ellen, throwing her down on the rug with brutal force. I ripped her legs apart and plunged into her, shooting into her, blasting into her, my body convulsed, my mind crazy with desire, laughing all the time, caterwauling like a banshee.
She didn't even have time to prepare herself. It was over in a second and I was exhausted. I lay upon her, barely conscious of her sobs, her humiliation. I panted and gasped, rolling off her body onto my back in the middle of the living room floor.
I knew he was feeling me then, touching me, trying to finish off whatever come there might be there, biting my hips, kissing my thighs, trying to turn me to bite or kiss my ass. But I was spent and I was heavy and I was dead to the world.
I walked up Broadway in the clear sunlight. It was early, about two in the afternoon, a couple of hours before my class. I would be late to meet Christine for coffee but I would be late purposely. She would want to know everything that had happened last night and I wasn't sure I would tell her anything. At times I laughingly confided some of my escapades to her as we sat in China Song having an egg roll and a Scotch. Her corpulent frame and loud voice were permanent fixtures there.
I knew she would be waiting, but I wanted to avoid this one. It actually turned out all right. Ellen got Michael to bed and out of our hair. She reheated the coffee and we sat for an hour or so in silence, not touching, not communicating. When I left it was undecided as to whether or not we would see each other again. At the moment I didn't care. But I probably would later on. I had her number and I knew approximately when she would be alone. I would call-one of these days.
I passed several acquaintances, former students, acting friends, a director who had once fired me from a job and then regretted it when I got good reviews from that off-Broadway show I starred in over a year ago. He was looking dissipated and truculent. We exchanged a few words. It was obvious he was out of work and probably would stay that way. He had a very definite talent for failure.
I stopped into a men's boutique and bought myself a shirt-a body shirt, deep blue with full sleeves. Had no idea when or where I would wear it but I liked it. Besides, I needed something. I needed a gift to myself. I was depressed and when I got depressed, I buy myself something. This time it was a shirt. Next time?
As I closed the door of the shop behind me, I saw him standing there, as if waiting for me. Bud! He smiled shyly and I returned it. We didn't speak at first. He fell in beside me as I strode up the street.
"How are you, Mr. Greene?"
"Fine, Bud. How are you?"
"Fine, sir." We were silent again. He wanted to say something to me apparently, but was undecided as to how to do it.
"You're early for class, Bud. Or are you on your way somewhere else?"
"I was actually coming up to see you. Before class. I wanted to speak with you."
"What about?"
He was silent again, his little boy body moving beside me, his curly hair bouncing with each step, his eyes ahead.
"About us, sir."
"Us?"
"Yes, sir." He again fell silent, but I could tell he had turned to look at me. "I'm in love with you, Mr. Greene."
I almost stopped but it actually became only a slight hesitation in my stride.
"Are you?" I tried to sound light, but there was a catch in my throat.
"Yes, sir."
We both fell silent and stopped by the curb to wait for the light to change. Several people joined us there and we had to remain mute until we were again somewhat alone on that busy street. The light changed and we crossed toward the Americana Hotel. I moved over toward the hedge running around the curve in the building to a spot which was apart from the milling crowd.
I stopped there and took out a Winston. I held the pack out to him but he shook his head. I knew he didn't smoke, at least conventional cigarettes. But I was nervous and forgot for the moment.
"You don't mean that, Bud. You're... over-reacting."
He stared into my eyes. My God! Are there any more beautiful eyes in the whole world? I doubt it.
"No sir. I know what I feel and I'm sure about this."
I paused before I spoke. What to say? What to tell this child, standing on Seventh Avenue surrounded by dozens of pedestrians, a cacophany of sound, fresh from an orgy the night before, with guilt corroding my soul as I looked at him.
"What about... your friend? In California?"
He didn't answer immediately. He looked away and then down to his feet. "I don't love him. I know that now. I was in love with sex. He's a whore. He's good at sex, I mean. And I thought it was love. You see, he's the first and the only one."
I stared at him. It seemed impossible. This child was an expert at love. I had discovered things with him that I didn't realize were possible with two men. He seemed experienced enough to have been involved with a dozen men before me. Well! It would appear that his lover was a master teacher. That could be the only explanation.
"I see." I did not look at him for a moment. "But I am your teacher. I mean you study with me. Now I don't think you should." I glanced towards him to see his reaction. There was pain, his mouth twitching as he set himself, determined to hear the worst. "Don't misunderstand. I am not turning you off." I paused again. How to say this? "But you see, I... you are the first for me... the first boy I have ever had an experience with." I could see the surprise come over his face, but he quickly suppressed it.
"I... I didn't know, sir."
"I know you didn't. Up to now, I have been content with my lot, my life. I am satisfied with... chicks. I never needed anything else. Never wanted anything else." I paused again. "I have to admit with all honesty that it was very nice with you, Bud. Very nice indeed. You opened up a new experience to me and... well, let's just say that I'm a little frightened by it." He smiled in disbelief and started to say something. "Yes, I can be frightened too, perhaps more afraid of myself than anything. There is this... thing in all of us and we don't want to wake the sleeping tiger. We're cowards, we prefer to deal with what we know and what we've been taught is proper and right, rather than upset the moral applecart." I could see that he was not only surprised but disappointed to hear me speak this way. "Anyway, I wouldn't have missed the experience for anything, Bud. It was great." He smiled then and flushed a little. You fragile, precious child! How to keep from hurting you! You're so delicate you might break.
"It was wonderful for me, Mr. Greene. It was the most fantastic thing that ever happened to me. It was... so different with you. It wasn't just sex. It was-love." Tears came to his eyes as he watched me, his voice breaking. For some odd reason it suddenly hit me that I was not embarrassed by this scene. I was warmed by it.
"You are a rare boy, Bud. I have been privileged to know you. I do not say that lightly." I sounded pompous but how else to say it? "You know that I love you in my own way too. As for the other... ? I don't know, Bud. I don't understand it. I don't want to hurt you but I will. You know that."
"I don't care, Mr. Greene!"
"Chris-please, Bud!"
"Chris! It doesn't matter! Don't you see that? When you love someone, nothing can truly hurt you, except... " His voice trailed off and he fell silent.
"Except what?"
"Except if they don't love you back."
"Bud, I don't think I could ever love you the way you want me to. I'm not sure I can love anybody like that. It's not because I don't want to. I'm just not built that way. It wouldn't-it couldn't work."
He looked at me then, quietly, seriously.
"I know, Chris. I know it wouldn't. I've known all along." He smiled then, and for a moment I thought I was going to take him in my arms. "Chris, I told you that I am in love, with you. But I'm not making any demands. I just wanted you to know." He touched my arm then. "It's all right. I want to be in love with you. I'm happy. And I'm more than happy when you say you love me, no matter what it is. That's out of sight, Chris!" He turned away a moment and then his face lit up as he looked hack into my eyes."
"When you want me again, no matter when it is, just tell me. I'll be there." He grinned like a little kid who's just been told that there is a Santa Claus. And then he was gone.
I stood there and lit another cigarette. I did not move for some time. I became conscious of people, nondescript types, out-of-towners, hippies, businessmen-all of them suddenly important to me. I concentrated on them and tried not to think about that boy in that cold-water pad, with his dreams and his ambitions. And I had just done a pretty job of shattering a few of them by my own selfishness. If it can be said that we learn something by our actions, then I learned something right then.
I moved off towards the studio and not to the restaurant. I would avoid that meeting, those questions, that lustful anticipation. Because it would cheapen and corrupt what I felt about this meeting with Bud. It would put it on its proper level and I would be faced with myself and right now I wanted to avoid that, too.
But the boy had redeemed me a little. No matter how cruddy I might feel about myself, my life, my attitudes, my outlook-this kid was in love with me. I, bitterly consoled myself with that.
So, fuck off, Madam X! I was high on this for a little while. And you will not bring me down!
Hey, kid! I'm going to wear that shirt I just bought. When I do, I'll remember this day and maybe it will do something for me. Thanks, kid. For a first-class shit-heel, I was doing all right. You've made me feel a little clean and if I knew myself, it wouldn't last for long.
O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times.
His voice broke with the emotion, his full head of hair obscuring his face, his muscular arms tensed, his body contorted. Even though he was speaking Mark Anthony's words with a marked Jersey accent, the intensity was there, the understanding of the dialogue was clear and he was masculine enough to give it validity.
I let Fletcher finish the speech, noting the similarity to Brando's impassioned mangling of the words of the last two lines. He stood there as if waiting for applause. I let him wait. There would be none.
"This is an acting class, Fletcher. Take your bows when you're paid for them." He broke out of it and glanced at me. He blushed and hopped to his seat.
"Not bad. How many times did you see Brando do it?"
He looked at me with horrified eyes. "Only once, sir!"
"Really?"
"Yes, sir!"
He was probably telling the truth, so I let it go. He would stand a chance if he retained his ability to immediately pick up from a first encounter.
I then went into an analysis of the scene, its weaknesses, its inherent traps for the amateur actor, the primary necessity for the poetry and the meter. All the standard criticisms for scene study. Fletcher is a good kid, not overly talented but he could gain a measure of success if he had the courage.
As my eyes passed over the class during the critique, I noticed with a slight twinge of pain that Bud was missing. He took me at my word. I supposed that he would not return. I would miss him. Miss his quixotic face, his giggle, his free anticipation of involvement in his work. Shit! There I go, fucking up again. And I knew it would happen. In fact, I probably wanted it to happen, to remove the temptation. Not man enough to cope with it otherwise.
Roz was next. A scene with Tommy. Well! Were they becoming a thing? Hardly. Christine would never allow it. She'd throw the chick out of the studio before that would happen.
Their scene was not only badly done it was a stupid scene. But I found something to say about it which would give the impression I cared. Roz could see through that, however, and she looked down at her script to avoid my eyes.
I noticed that Valentina was also missing from the class. Not that it mattered. Watching her work was like seeing a bad movie for the twelfth time. I knew every breath she was going to take long before she did it. Poor bitch!
There was a new face. Christine had mentioned the girl as I passed the office on my way to class. But it was a curt reminder. The Madam was furious with me for missing our date at the Chinese restaurant, also for denying her the vicarious thrills she so sorely needed.
The girl was rather nondescript-looking, with long, straight hair, crooked teeth, enormous glasses to point up small eyes, a dumpy figure clothed in a maxi-dress which did nothing for her except to accent her plump body. Arlene-or something.
I asked her to do an improvisation with Alexander. They did a simple exercise so that I might gauge her talent. She was good, a potential at any rate. Had a nice emotion and a clever approach to characterization. It was refreshing to say the least. She was all over Alex, making him look even worse than he normally did. And that was really something!
He was delighted, of course to work with her. Said he could feel her vibes. I've got news for him.
So the class meandered on for the full three hours. A rather uninspired way of spending that time, probably my fault. I was in a strange, contrary mood and it affected the whole class. I knew this was possible, had tested it several times. But today I couldn't care less.
Jerry was not at this session. Rehearsing, he told Christine. His show opens this week end. Must remember to send him a telegram. I marked down a note to do so as the-last scene of the day started.
It was another classic, Oedipus the King. It was done by Steve and Nancy. Another Brooklynese version of a masterpiece, I thought. Holy Christ! Steve is a body-builder with great shoulders, tiny waist, much hair and all the finesse of a steamroller. His partner, a full-bodied blonde thing with big hips and tits was from the Say-outh. Listening to Jocasta's dialogue with a Southern accent was enough to drive me out of that room permanently. But I passed my hand across my face and suffered it through to the very finish.
I turned it off, finding myself drifting into my own world. Unconnected thought, jumbled bits of sentences, apparitions of visual images to give them color, all these and more claimed my mind for what seemed an hour but which could only have been a few minutes at most.
Karen, what are you doing now? Why haven't I called you? Your robe, ripping at the seams, coffee-stained. A rather untidy young lady. Who would say it like that? Someone. Who? Can't think. The walls of this room are ghastly. So depressing. Car horn. Supposed to go away this week end. Where? Somewhere on the island. A house by the beach. With Michelle and Jeff. Should I go? "They were fahve, fahve in all... " Not fahve, you dizzy cunt! FIVE! FIVE! What am I doing here? Ought to have my head examined. BUD! I'm sorry, youngster. Don't love me... Think I'll have dinner alone tonight. I feel like staying at home, quietly, no fucking. I'm never alone much anymore. In one bed and out the other. Well, yes I was alone this past week end. But that was the first time in a long time. Put on some music, fix something easy (Stouffer's frozen pie?), take the phone off the hook... But that was last week! What's the matter with me? I'm flipping out, for God's sake! Honey, can't you say those lines without pushing your box into his face? You're not only his wife, you're also his mother, bitch! You're catching on! It has nothing to do with sex, dumb broad... Steve, you poor misguided muscle-head. Christ! He stands there as if posing for those pin-up boy magazines. Wonder if he ever has? Great body, empty head. What the living fuck am I doing here? Think I will go to that beach pad. May even drown myself. No, can't do that. That's the easy way, right Christ, baby? Besides Michelle and Jeff, they don't deserve... None so close as you, To learn what ways of destiny are mine.
Thank God! They're finished. I usually never ask for comment on scenes. But I did this time. Maybe I might be able to learn what had happened while I was daydreaming. I didn't hear a thing, at least not much to comment upon.
Sorry, Steve and Nancy. You feel short changed. Story of my life. Just being here sometime is to be shortchanged by definition.
"Thank you, people. Let's see some of these scenes memorized by next week. Scripts are hanging you up. Get rid of them. Speaking of hang-ups... " (Laughter) She walked slowly toward the door without looking my way.
"Roz?"
She turned to me, expectation written all over her.
"Come here."
She moved to me and I marveled again at that figure, that classic glacial beauty.
"Sorry about today. But you should know better than to saddle yourself with a scene like that. It's not worth your time. Pick something else and with someone else, please. You're a good actress, far better than anyone in here. Let me see you really work."
She grinned at me through misty eyes. That had done it. Good! Now,! would start breaking her down. That is, I would next week. This week had been too much for me.
"Thank you, Mr. Greene."
"My pleasure." I pretended to be busy at putting my books and notepad away, but I was conscious of her hesitation.
"Roz?"
"Yes, sir?"
"After class next week, how about joining me for coffee?"
That really did it.
"I'd love that, Mr. Greene!"
"Okay. Then it's a date." I smiled and nodded to her. She smiled back, giggled a little and twisted around to go off. My oh my! You are a lovely thing! Her bony angular frame waltzed to the door and with a switch of her hips, she was gone.
No big tits, no fleshy thighs, no aggressive sensuality. Delicate, fragile, cold, pristine, exquisite. All female. Noble and high-born. As a result, just dying to grovel a bit, to let it all hang out as the saying goes.
"No, I haven't been sitting home every night just waiting for your call." Who asked you, bitch? I took a long swallow of the Scotch before turning to the phone again.
"What have you been up to?"
"What do you care?"
"I don't, but we have to use this dime some way. Small talk me."
Karen was not talking however, the frost coming through the line and freezing up the receiver. Well, she had a right to be angry. I am the son-of-a-bitch. But that's a known fact and a redundant comment, even to myself.
"The show opens this week end, tomorrow night as a matter of fact."
"I know that."
"So? You going?"
She snapped at me with vicious tones. "What for? We've been all through that. And I would appreciate it if you didn't mention him to me again."
"That bad, huh?"
"No. It's just that I think you've made enough comments about him. If you remember."
"I remember vividly. But if you'll also remember, I didn't bring his name up. It would have been just fine with me if we had never mentioned him at all."
"Let's drop it, okay?"
"Okay, baby." But you ain't seen nothing yet, honey. The longer I spoke to her on the phone the more sure I was that I would take up that little task. I would seduce that kid and she would be the first to know.
"Call me again sometime, that's if you can spare the time and the dime."
She waited.
"Now's the time for me to come up with an old vaudeville routine; you wouldn't be a bad egg if you weren't so hardboiled. Ha! Ha! How's that?"
She didn't answer. There was silence. For a moment there I thought she might have hung up but I could hear her breathing.
"You still there?"
"Of course. I was trying to recover from so much hysteria."
"Well, if it's going to be one long bitch session, I'll cut it off right now."
"You know the number and you know my address. Maybe you'll use both again some day."
"And you know mine. Maybe you'll use me again some day."
Then, she did hang up without another word. That got to her I was sure. And, if I knew her, she was lonely as hell. She could act the part of the bitchy carefree broad without a nerve in her body but she hardly ever convinced anyone.
I stared at the receiver for a moment, then dropped it into the cradle. Well, I did my duty. I'll call you again, baby, when I'm ready. And I'll be ready when your golden boy friend is ready. I filled the glass again. Chivas.
I pulled out a copy of O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night. I had been asked to direct it for a college in Connecticut. I wasn't sure I wanted to tackle it, especially with a group of college amateurs. But I decided to reread it anyway and give it some thought. It would distract me temporarily and it was what I needed right now. Also, reading about O'Neill's tortured family might alleviate some of the depression I felt about my own life. Don't get me wrong. I'm not unhappy about my life. I'm unhappy with the way I'm using it. And I get a little uptight with my own personality. Like, I mean I can't stand myself. Not all the time, but a good deal of it. The Scotch was going down easier now.
It's indeed amazing how such genius can beautifully and painfully explore human torment. Look at Ellen and Michael, Karen, Bud, Valentina, Christine, Roz-all of them. In their own way equally tormented. But their stories would be soap operas compared to the brooding melodrama of O'Neill's memoir. Yet it is, after all, relative. Right?
Never mind the editorializing, idiot. Back to the play.
Part way through the second act, I had to give it up. My mind was wandering, districting thought circling around my head like confused clouds of dialogue over the heads of cartoon characters. Besides the words were blending together. Easy on the booze, old cock.
I lit up another cigarette and leaned back into the chair. WQXR was pounding out Beethoven's Ninth and it was up almost full volume. I thought the books would fall off the shelves. But I relaxed and enjoyed the magnificent overwhelming sound.
I gazed around the room, my living room, my retreat from the world, my hideaway. Then I suddenly laughed. Very few people had ever visited me here. Most of my friends thought I had some sort of eccentric or depraved den of sin. I added to their imaginations with wild tales of mirrors over the bed, see-through sheets and psychedelic lighting to drive the broads crazy while we fucked. My living room was supposed to look like the perfect lair for seduction, with lights on dimmers, the lamps placed close enough to the couch to permit easy access during the strategic moments. Fur rugs, leather upholstery-everything geared to cock and cunt carnival time.
Ha! How wrong they were! Actually, my apartment is furnished with almost spartan taste, everything functional and clean. There is little or no imagination used anywhere in any room. But it is all mine and I am proud of it. It served its purpose.
I live in an old brownstone on the Upper West Side of New York City, the top floor, with a skylight in my living room. The skylight is always dirty and the view is nothing much. Just sky, sky and more sky. But that's nice, on a nice night. I have two bedrooms, one of them used as a study with bookshelves on every wall, ceiling to floor. It is the workroom and it is where I live most of my life. I have a single bed there, with a bunch of pillows, many nights of sack time spent there instead of doing the bedroom thing.
Anyway, enough already about the apartment. I live in it and I like it. Everyone else's fantasy about my private life is their problem not mine.
I reached for the bottle of Chivas and filled my old-fashioned glass again, adding ice from the bucket.-Dilute it a little, you drunken bum. I was having a little celebration of my own. What for, I don't know. But who cares? As the biting taste hit my throat, it occurred to me that I could be celebrating my recent conquests. After all, they were noble undertakings chosen with great care and carried through with the utmost in devotion. And I am after all considered to be quite the master. So why not celebrate?
Here's to you-BUD! ELLEN! KAREN! And even you, big-tits Valentina! It was a great fight! And I won! But then again, I always do! Right? Lick your wounds, bind them up, it could have been worse. And you'd better believe it!
HEY! CHRIST! Savior of mankind! You're getting stinking drunk. Did you know that? That was, let me see, that was my fifth glass of Scotch. And none of them did a thing to me-until the last one. And, WOWEEE! That one carried a punch, right to the old hot chestnuts!
HEY! Get the picture! Right? Christ himself, the saintly 'teach', in his cups as the saying went, somewhere. Stinko! Bombed out of his freaking mind! Hey! One and All! come here! And take a look. Want to see your hero? Well here he is! Balls and all!
HEY! Get a load of that! He's slipping off the chair! HA! He's sliding right... off the fucking... chair! Ha! Ha! HAW! OOOPS! Whacked the saintly head there, Christ, old man! HA! HA! HA! WWWHHHEEEM Sitting on... the floor... Scotch all over... the fucking... fucking...
MY BOOTS CRUNCHED INTO the hard-packed sand, my bellbottom dungarees flapped against themselves, my pace slow and measured. The foaming salt water raced along the beach toward me like a playful dog. It came up almost to my feet then retreated, sinking into the sand with a sucking sibilance leaving a residue of dirty suds. There was no sound except for the whispering water, an occasional seagull.
Mist was fogging my shades. I ignored it. The sun was slanting across the water. It would soon be dusk. The beach was deserted. The way I liked it. Houses, shut up for the winter, stared out at the sea with gray solitude. They looked longingly at me, hoping I would knock off the shutters, open them up to the wind and sky, build a fire to warm them, send laughter though their drying bones to gladden their existence. I stared back at them and passed on.
So I had come to the shore for the week end. And although I was content to walk these beaches alone, something was missing. Not someone. Some thing. I knew not what. So I continued my walk, hoping to find it, perhaps lurking amongst the dunes, around the next corner hidden in the trees lining the shore at one point. But I would not find it. Perhaps I would never...
"Chris?"
He had come up behind me silently. Maybe I was aware of his coming, maybe not. But I did not stop walking.
"Chris? Hungry?"
I didn't answer. Just nodded my head. My pace did not slacken. Soon he was next to me, matching my steps with his, both of us silent. After a few moments, he held out a pack of cigarettes to me. I took one without hesitating. Nor did I stop to light it, but did it as we stumbled over some rocks toward one of the houses not boarded up, a house which beckoned to us with its warmth.
So I had found my way back at last. I had been gone-how long? Perhaps three... four hours. No matter. It was good for me.
We skipped up the stairway to the door. She stood there with a scotch in her hand, smiling and serene. Michelle! My favorite person in all the world. The only human being who understood me, tolerated me, berated me, cursed me, loved me, forgave me. At that moment I was sure she would be the only person on this earth I would ever completely love. She was my brother's wife.
"Have a nice walk?"
She actually wanted an answer! She was sincerely interested! I wasn't used to this, that is, unless I was with them.
"Great!"
I grabbed the Scotch and planted a kiss on her forehead. I love you, Michelle.
"Jeff, we need more wood. It's getting colder. Probably a frost tonight."
She turned and re-entered the kitchen, grabbing up a wooden spoon to stir the beef stew. Wow! Nobody, but nobody could make it like Michelle. Her French heritage, I guess. Heavy with wine, vegetables and the greatest beef she could find. The aroma was dizzying as I dropped off my fur parka and slipped behind her to bite her on the neck. She squealed and gave me a cuff with the back of her hand.
"Hey. You'll get me so excited I'll set fire to the stew!"
We laughed then and I sat on the high stool near the bar to watch her.
Michelle... you are beyond belief. She is about forty, I guess. You'd never know it though. She looks no more than twenty-five, at the most. Forever young, forever beautiful in the most simple complete way. The woman and they hardly make them that way anymore. Total woman, feminine, warm, generous, tender! Wow! Go check the Roget's Thesaurus for a million synonyms! There would never be enough to describe her properly. If it sounds like I'm crazy about my sister-in-law, you're tuned in!
Her curly blonde locks were constantly falling into her eyes as she bent over the stove. Her young, pliant figure was a joy to see, symmetrically ideal. She always dressed with unaffected simplicity but with such beauty you were tempted to ask if she were wearing a new dress, knowing you had seen it a dozen times. How she did it, I'll never know.
"Thanks, Michelle."
She turned to look at me quizzically. Then she smiled softly. No need to question. She knew.
"Got a good appetite?"
"You bet! I'll finish off the whole pot. What will you and Jeff have for dinner?"
She giggled and bent over the over to check the muffins.
"Peanut-butter sandwiches and happy to do it, even though I hate the stuff. I mean that, Chris. You're getting thin and it worries both of us. You don't look good. You're not old enough to get those circles around your eyes. Are you sleeping all right?"
"Yes, mother." She giggled again and I smiled contentedly. "Why did you marry my brother?" I purposely posed this question as Jeff re-entered with an armload of wood. "I mean, look at us. Which one is the handsomest?"
She looked up to both of us. She didn't quite know how to answer that, with a joke or seriously. "No comment."
Jeff dropped the wood into the box, straightening up with a grimace as he rubbed his back. "Loyalty, right? Well, I'll tell you; she knows which one of us is the right one. And it sure as hell ain't me!"
She turned to him abruptly and threw a hot biscuit at him. Although it was a playful gesture, she meant it.
He caught it and then spent the next couple of minutes juggling it.
"Yipes! That's hot as hell!"
He hopped to the table, tossing the biscuit from hand to hand until he could deposit it.
"Next comes the stew!" She gave him a mocking scowl.
"I take it back!"
I gulped the scotch hurriedly. Shit! They're so happy and they have so much love for each other. When I compare their life with mine, I want to puke.
"Soup's on!" She hefted the huge kettle of stew to the table and placed it in the center. She quickly tossed biscuits into a straw basket, covered them with a napkin and placed them next to the pot. The table looked magnificent.
"Michelle, how do you do it? I mean you're so far from home and yet you make me feel we've never left the city."
"Well, we have everything here we need or want. We both planned it that way. It's great to get away, to have the beach, the shore, the quiet, the solitude-but we also like our creature comforts. And what's wrong with that?"
"Not a thing, beautiful lady." I slipped off the stool and took my place at the table. Jeff and Michelle kissed each other and sat opposite me.
I looked at them and almost cried.
"Hey, you two." They turned to me, Michelle in the process of lifting the top off the stew pot. "I love you. More than you'll ever know."
Jeff reached for Michelle's hand and they both smiled.
"We know, Chris." Jeff turned serious a moment. "We love you too. That's why we worry about you. You're all we've got. Don't do anything to change that."
Then the tears really did come into my eyes.
"Hey! Let's eat! I'm starved out of my head!"
I raised my plate for Michelle to serve me and the moment was gone-gratefully.
Like Dante's inferno, the fire swam before my eyes. I was, to quote: "looking through a glass darkly"-the brandy snifter. The flames from the fireplace cast a reddish glow through the Courvoisier, setting it on fire. Tipping the glass to my nose, I inhaled the fumes, letting them seep into my lethargy.
She reached behind to push me forward, placing a pillow at my head. Her hands were warm and comforting. I felt a giggle coming on, the kind I remembered from childhood when my mother tucked me in on a cold winter's night.
"Thanks, mother." She touched the top of my head and moved back to the sofa to snuggle up against Jeff. He was staring into the fireplace, pipe in hand, his feet extended to the hassock. The picture couldn't be more perfect. It was the kind of thing which made bachelors chuck the whole bit and choose anyone just so they could duplicate the comforts of married life. And there were comforts.
"When are you going to settle down and get married, Chris?"
She must have been reading my thoughts.
"Maybe never." I paused before continuing. 'The problem is, you see, that YOU'RE already married."
She murmured contentedly against my brother. "Indeed I am." She twisted her head to look at me. "Haven't you met anyone-anyone you like?"
"Yeah, sure. Dozens of them."
Jeff chuckled. "I'll bet you have at that."
"None I want to marry."
I thought for a moment. That was true. Not one of them.
"There are very few of the marrying kind around these days."
"Well, you'll forgive me but I don't think you are exactly in the business to meet the marrying kind."
She was right, of course. Maybe that's why I'm in it? "Jeff. How about Monica? She's looking right now."
"Darling, leave the poor guy alone. Believe me, no matter how nice a girl Monica is, Chris will do his own choosing. He's a stubborn bastard and he's got definite ideas. So forget it."
"I merely mentioned... "
"I know, dear." He put his arm around her and drew her even closer.
I felt like talking to them and I wondered just how much I could say without alienating. I didn't want them to change their feeling for me, nor did I want to lose Michelle's respect. But, I wanted to tell them certain things about me, things which they might be able to understand and relate to-just in case.
"My life is so... so remote from yours. I could tell you things which would freak you out entirely."
"I'm sure that's true, Chris. But it wouldn't matter. You can't change our opinion of you. You should know that."
I would have to watch my fabulous sister-in-law! I think she's capable of reading minds! I swear it!
"Listen, I'm on a treadmill-moving, moving, constantly moving. Getting nowhere. Each experience I have is a repetition of so many others. I'm getting people, things confused in my mind. I used to have opinions, definitions. I don't now. Everything is blending, weaving into itself, creating patterns and then destroying them. I have feelings about one thing on one specific day and the next day, those feelings have entirely reversed themselves. I find myself doing things which would horrify me if I heard them about someone else. I find myself justifying my actions, actions which under normal circumstances I could never reconcile with my outlook on life, my values. At one moment, I can cry; the next I want to kill. And these emotions are usually predicated on the same stimuli. I think sometimes that I could mend a broken wing on a bird while I'm pushing a child in a wheelchair into traffic. I thinks I'm sick! Disgustingly incurably sick! And I don't know... what to do about it."
I stopped talking for a moment. The house was still.
"Hey, I don't mean over things sexual or moral. I mean, just sick! Period! Y'know, we carry over. I mean we respond or relate to things in generally the same manner always. I mean, we can like tell a joke, y'know? And when it comes to the punch line, no punch line. We forgot it! And then we can have sex, y'know? The real thing with all the fire works going off and when it comes to the orgasm, it just isn't there!"
I suddenly noticed they were staring at me as if at a stranger.
"Hey! I don't mean that's my problem! HELL! That'll NEVER be my problem. I know someone like that and I'm using it as an example. Know what I mean?" They both silently nodded without taking their eyes from mine. "Do you understand?"
Jeff spoke softly to me, with great concern and yet with control. "Go on, Chris."
"Well, it's like this teaching thing. I mean, I have to be involved, a part of all things. Some of the kids in the class are now kids, today's hung-up misfits. Others are older, just as neurotic but perhaps more resigned; they've made the compromises. Relating to both groups is a bitch. I mean, I can't say the same things to both of them. I have to come up with answers, hopefully the right ones.
"Look, I don't know if I'm making any sense, but I'm leading up to something. It's probably totally remote from your life. I guess I hope it is. I mean, I don't want you two affected by it. There is perfection in you and that shouldn't be touched, by anything."
"It's not all that perfect, Chris. We have our problems, too."
I looked at Michelle and smiled. "Your problems. Hell, you don't know what they are in comparison to what I'm faced with every day. Adjustments, concessions, judgments, whatever. An example-in my classes I must reach these kids in any way I can. They find me outside their world many times and I have to find a way in. So? What to do? Well I'll tell you; it ain't easy.
"Let's take the sexual thing. I really haven't had any hang-ups when it came to that. I've experienced a helluva lot and I'm not ashamed of it. I know what I want and I go after it. True, it's not all that tough in my business. And I'm not exactly a dog... "
"You're gorgeous and you know it." She looked at me with mild reproof.
"Yeah, Michelle. I know what I am on the outside and I also know about the inside. Maybe I'm a little content with one of them. I'm not so sure about the other. Anyway, to get on... Hey! Am I boring you?"
They both just smiled and snuggled closer.
"Our lives are fairly simple, Chris. We like it that way. But we also like you, little brother. We appreciate your confidences. Carry on."
I looked at Jeff a moment. A truly handsome man. Three years older than I, younger than his wife, but older in manner. Jeff was always beyond his years. There were times when I felt he was more of a father to me than a big brother.
"Well, the sex thing." I paused a moment. "Maybe I can give you an idea of the whole picture by rapping about this one subject a little. I hope so anyway."
I lifted the snifter to my mouth again and sipped. I could see them through the glass, all warm and rose-colored.
"About a week ago I had sex with one of my students. A boy."
I paused then and purposely stared at them over the rim of the glass. Michelle did not appear to react, but Jeff looked away from me into the fire, his expression not changing. There was a slight alteration in his manner perhaps. Imperceptible, but there.
"So, why did I do it? I sometimes wonder myself. But at the time I knew. I won't go into the reasons but I wanted to mention it to prove a point. You see, a lot of the kids today have this love thing they talk about. I mean, to love and to love everybody. They think we, the over-thirties are hung up about love, sex, relationships, the whole bag. I guess we are. Anyway, I know that most of the kids swing both ways. I mean they love, have sex with whoever they want, no matter which gender. Perhaps not all of them, but many of them do.
"One of the kids explained it to me this way; if you really love someone, dig their mind, their personality, their body, what-have-you and if there is a warmth there you cannot explain yet you want to express-then, do it! No matter what the sex of both people concerned. I must admit there have been times when I have felt that way. Naturally, like all well-adjusted, normal, American males, I have rejected it because it was unmanly. Archaic word. But, they feel this is a denial to yourself. They feel we constantly deny ourselves and find uptight moral reasons for that denial and therefore it is easy to make moral judgments about everyone else. The result? Our restrictive society, our laws, our blank spots, our hate and mistrust of our neighbors, the color thing, all of it. Perhaps they're right and maybe it just isn't that simple. I don't know.
"And, then again, maybe I'm just rationalizing, as they are, justifying my actions. But maybe we have to do that to get by all the crap, all the impersonality of our lives. Anyway, I had always rejected homosexuality. Again, maybe because I didn't understand it, one. And two, I had been taught that it was wrong, sick, immoral, and so forth."
I paused and lit another cigarette.
"But, it's just possible that our mania for labels, our passion for categorizing has led us into attitudes which deny our basic needs. Again rationalization? Perhaps."
I watched them both for a few minutes. They were now staring at the fireplace, each with separate thoughts I imagined. But I knew they were also listening to me. So I continued.
"So I slept with a boy. And I liked it. I mean, after all, what is it? Sex! And it was good. He is a wonderful kid, a bit screwed up like all of us and he loves me. And to tell the truth, I love him. Oh, not in the same way he does, the full commitment thing. I can't do that. Because I know that I would always want the other. I love women, love sex with them and always will. And down deep inside I know that I want to marry one day. Not for the conventional reasons, or to make my screwing legal, but just so that I can have a little of what you have. I need someone, the contentment of knowing that someone wants me, only me. From what I know about gay life, that's next to impossible.
"And why? Because of us. Because we have been conditioned to the perversion thing with two males making it together, or two females for that matter. Society says it's wrong, so it's wrong. How can two people withstand that? How can they, no matter how much they love each other, fight the rest of the world, go against the tide? We can't use the old excuse it's being against nature, because we know that isn't true anymore. We've learned that some animals practice it, insects and so forth, along with incest which is also held in great disrepute amongst us elevated higher forms of life. It's a superhuman job, going against this society and very few of us are equipped to undertake the impossible task."
I stopped again and took another sip of the brandy, another drag of my cigarette.
"This kid is beautiful, young, gentle, kind and he loves me very much. And I took him I used him. We heterosexual normal ones do that all the time with the female, maybe because we justify it by knowing that most chicks are looking for a husband. Maybe you're the one, stud. Let's do it together. So she lets you do it, hoping, praying. It doesn't work, right? So she goes to another one, and then another one. We are using each other. As I used him. Why? Mainly because I wanted to see if I could do it, if I could throw myself into it completely, without reservation. I wanted to get past all my so-called hang-ups, my over-thirty uptight attitudes. I hoped to understand them a little better. At least, those are the excuses I use to justify the act."
I was quiet again. They did not speak. I was calming down, my voice becoming almost a monotone.
"Listen, I preach all these things in my classes-not about the sex thing particularly but about life itself. If I preach it, I should also do it. Right? So, I did."
I lit another cigarette. Smoking too much. My throat was burning so I took another sip of the courvoisier.
"And I'll tell you. They're right. It doesn't matter. If you love somebody, I mean as a human being, then it doesn't matter. You are responding to a need and if you get uptight about it later, then you are the hung-up one. I realize that now. In fact, I'm grateful it happened with him. With someone else it might have turned out differently. It might have been sordid, dirty. I don't know."
There was a silence in the room which was awesome.
Outside the wind howled around the fragile house, shutters banging. The logs in the fireplace were adjusting themselves as they burned, giving out with whispering sighs as they slipped into place, casting sparks into the room.
"It was an experience. I am not sorry for it. If anything, I'm sorry for the kid because it affected him more than I wanted it to. For that I am truly sorry. For myself, well, it was a revelation." I put out the cigarette in the ashtray, watching the smouldering embers darken and go out. I hadn't even finished it, but I couldn't stand the taste a moment longer.
"I'm still committed to my normal, straight life, whatever that is. I have no intention of fully swinging the other way. But it might happen again and I won't have as much difficulty. I hope." I was silent again for a moment.
"Y'know? On the ferry coming out here, I had the feeling that if I turned to look back at the city, I would become a pillar of salt. Perhaps there is a deeper meaning to that biblical story than what is obvious on the surface. If not, then it is stupid. We create our own Sodom and Gomorrah's in our minds. Maybe if we weren't so uptight morally, they would never have to exist."
I could feel her eyes on me so I turned to look at her.
"Chris, your telling us this is by far the best thing you've done. If it's possible, I understand and love you more. And I'm sure Jeff does too."
She looked up into his eyes. He was smiling and nodded towards me. But was it the best thing I had done? Now what would happen between us? I was worried as my eyes returned to the fire and I closed them to shut out the heat.
Like a spectre crossing the room, something came up between us and my heart sank when I considered the possibility of its remaining there evermore.
I sat on the piece of driftwood, conscious of the cold, wet hardness pressing into my buttocks. I pulled the parka closer and shielded my face from the wind as I inhaled on the cigarette. It was pitch-black there on the beach, the phosphorescence of the water lighting up before me, giving an eerie glow to the horizon. The wind howled at me, cautioning me against sitting there for long. But even though I heard it, I ignored it. I was cold and I longed for the warmth of the house, but I had decided to spend my last few hours here alone. Without a word to them, I had left the house and walked at least a mile to this spot. How long I had been here I didn't know. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that I felt empty. I wanted the warmth of someone's arms even though they did not know my name. The closeness I felt for my brother and his incredible wife would never entirely suffice I knew. I had personal needs and they were not being fulfilled.
There is a lonely quality in all of us, the inevitable knowledge that we are alone. The human animal is of course the loneliest of all living things. And with nature, with the elements, with family, with God, we were still alone. If only for an hour, a day, the necessity for another body, the proximity of physical warmth was what we all craved. I flipped the cigarette away into the night, watching it arc toward the water. I must get back. I had to lose myself in the maelstrom of activity, bodies, sex, and forgetfulness. I'm a coward. All right! I accept that. And I crave escape. Perhaps for myself. This week end of soul-searching was too much for my craven spirit.
The last time I was here visiting my brother, I had fucked Monica right here on this spot. Michelle would freak out if she knew. So we had decided not to mention a word about it. So far as Michelle was concerned, we had never met. Anyway, the sex was all right but Monica was such a predatory broad that she fucked with you as if it were her last. Her desperation and need almost turned me off. Then she had cried to impress me with her reluctant virginity. And then we had parted. It wouldn't happen again; we both knew it. So much for my debt to Michelle.
My thoughts drifted to Karen. Honey, why can't you relax? You fuck as if your life depended on it. You fuck as if I might pull out and disappear. You fuck as if you hated me. Relax, baby. Would I call her again? Was she fucking with someone else tonight? What the hell was this obsession I had with fucking, fucking, FUCKING?
Bud. Where are you tonight? Are you still lonely? Has your lover come home? Are you losing yourself in his arms as he plows into you, taking, using you never conscious of the beauty you possess? I wish I could be for you what you want of me. Maybe we'll never make it again. Maybe we will and I'll show you how sweet you are to me. I love you, kid-as much as I can.
Ellen, are you down on him tonight? Are you satisfying his need, being short-changed in the bargain? Or do you like it more that way? You're beautiful, kid, and you can fuck better than anyone I've ever known. Wait for me. I'll call you. I know you want me to. We have a special something between us and there's little point in rejecting it. Wait for me.
Roz, baby. Your classic beauty will be memorable in its unique position of lover to me one of these days. Maybe, I hope it will be memorable to you too. I'm working on it.
None of you are what I want however. I don't even know what that is. I may never know.
Besides, I'm tired of the same thing I've got to look for change when I return. This week end has made me impatient for new things, new experiences.
As I let myself into the apartment, the phone was ringing. Madly. Christine, no doubt. Worried again? No, just curious. She would pretend all kinds of hysteria over my mysterious disappearance. It would only be a ruse to find out just where I was and who I was fucking.
"Chris? My God, I've called... "
"I know. Well, I'm here. Now what?"
"Where have you been?"
"What's the problem, Christine?"
"Not going to tell me, huh? Is that it? All right. Go fuck yourself."
"It would be the best one I ever had. What's up?"
"Listen, I couldn't care less where you were or with who."
"Whom."
There was a pause. Baiting me again. Are you going to hang up, broad or shall we just sit here like this and play games all night?
I lit a cigarette and clumsily shook myself out of the parka. My feet were wet. Raining outside. I kicked out of my boots as I balanced the phone receiver on my shoulder.
"You still there?"
"Where else would I be, Christine?"
"Well anyway, I hope it was a good one." Another pause. Another bait. I'm not jumping, lady. "I had a great week end. Tommy and I went to the theatre and then to a fabulous new club."
"That's nice."
"Yeah, I can tell you're all shook up about it."
"What do you want me to say, Christine?"
"Nothing." She pouted a moment. "Anyway, how about meeting us for a drink tonight? At that new place?"
I sighed. I was in no mood for her. But, I should get back into circulation.
"Where is this place and what is it?"
"Well, it's a club. I don't know. It's in the Village. And I guess it's a faggot place."
"You guess?"
"Well, that's what it is and you wouldn't believe your eyes! Naked boys! Stark-naked and they dance on a drum, or something, their things shaking all over the place and their cute little asses bouncing. Crazy!"
"Christine, I'm not interested in faggot places or things shaking all over the place and asses."
"I know. But they're a camp. Come on."
"No, Christine. I would like a drink but not in a dump like that. I don't like to look at cocks while I'm drinking. What's with you anyway? You turning gay? Or is it Tommy?"
"That's not cute. I'm just interested in the other side of life, that's all. Tommy hated it but said he would go if you wanted to."
"Well, I don't." I paused and almost hung up but decided to wait a moment for other suggestions.
"All right, Chris. Then let's go to Joe Allen's. You like that place, don't you?"
"Yes, all right. I'll meet you there around ten-thirty."
I hung up. It was now six. That would give me some time to have a drink, fix myself a bite to eat and unpack. The ride home on the Long Island train was uneventful. I spent most of the time looking out the window, seeing surf, grey-purple skies and Michelle. She is something else. As it turned out I was glad I did say what I did. When she gazed at me, into my eyes at the ferry ship I saw that she understood. She bit her lower lip and kissed me, whispering into my ear. There had to be some kind of eternal reward for human beings like her. They were unreal. No matter how screwed up my life could be, she would always be there. And she would nod to me and it would be enough.
I laughed and a catch came into my throat as I unpacked. There was a stone, small, white and smooth. It had been on her dresser and I had remarked about its purity and beauty. I commented that it reminded me of her. And she had packed it in my bag. I held it, weighing it, feeling it, marvelling in its delicate symmetry. I placed it next to a photo of them on my table beside the bed. Not that I needed a reminder.
It felt good to be home. I paced around the apartment in the nude after showering, feeling the rug between my toes, the textures of materials as I dropped down onto chairs, sofa, what-have-you. Rough, smooth, figured surfaces pressed into my buttocks giving me a sensual feeling. A remembrance! God! I hadn't had sex for six days! As my mind conjured up visions of Ellen, Bud, Karen-my cock rose up and stared at me from between my legs, the inflamed head bursting with desire.
I gazed at it and wished I could answer its needs but there was no way at the moment. That is, unless I did it for myself. I hadn't done that for a very long time.
I had read recently that masturbation was good for you. That is, it was a healthy release. Perhaps it would keep us sex-maniacs from running into the streets and fucking whomever we met first. Then again, maybe it was over-reaction to the old-fashioned tales of insanity when you "pulled your meat", to quote an age-old vulgarism.
I reached down and slipped my hand around it, feeling its warmth, thrilling a little to the hard musculature. I moved my fingers up lightly toward the head, gripping a little tighter as I did, causing the skin to slip up and around that purple plum, then retreat when I dropped my hand back down the sides of that weapon. The juices were boiling just below the surface. It wouldn't take much to release them.
Oh, what the hell! Might just as well. Doubted if I would be in the mood to work on anyone tonight anyway. And then again, it might release some of the tension.
I stood up and my cock was rigidly pointed straight out. It was quite a beauty I must admit. I kept my right hand around it, slipping my left hand down to cup my balls. Ah! That's the way I like it. I felt entirely enclosed, wrapped up in warmth. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to center my thoughts on that organ and its power. I could feel it pulsing, waiting to shoot out, to splatter the juices in all directions. God! Was I charged up! It would be a big one and it seemed a shame to waste it. But, here goes!
My eyes popped open when I remembered something. Where was that picture? Several years ago an actor friend of mine had given me a photo of himself and a girl he had been fucking while on the road. The girl was seventeen he said and she came to the stage door one night and told him she loved him, had seen him in that particular show several times and wanted him to make love to her. He flipped out. Couldn't believe it. But it was true. And for the rest of the run, about six weeks, he fucker her day and night. He said it was the best he'd ever had. He got another actor to take a picture of them in the act so he could remember it. How that kid could go along with that, I'll never know. She really must have loved him. Also he was a persuasive bastard and a good actor. Convincing her must have taken all of ten seconds.
Where was that photo? Then I remembered. I had shoved it into a book I was reading as a bookmark. The book? Robert Grave's I Claudius. Weird choice perhaps, but not premeditated.
I went to the bookshelf, hitting my cock on the edge, causing me to jump back with the slight pain. I quickly found the book and pulled it out. There was the photo and there they were!
He was a good-looking guy with an enormous cock. He told me it was at least ten inches long and almost three inches thick! Christ! He must've torn that kid apart. Anyway, there they were, her legs up around his back, that cock half in, half out of her cunt. There was pain on her face (or was it pleasure?) and he was looking directly at the camera, a big grin spread all over his face. Vain shit!
Anyway, looking at it caused my cock to leap again and again. So I grabbed it, reclined on the sofa with a Kleenex and looking at that porno photo, I whipped myself into a frenzy. In no time at all, I came, all over the place! The kleenex was little help. I sprayed all over the cushions and pillows. Wow! I was really loaded!
And, when I came, I let forth a howl which must have turned the moon around on its orbit. Then I was panting with the release, choking and spitting. And I felt like hell! Some goddamned little juvenile, jacking himself off, for Christ sake! Shit! shit! shit!
Joe Allen's. A theatre-crowd-type bar on West 46th Street. Before, during, and after theatre it's crowded. They are mostly actors, working and not working, happy and sad, successful and not so, hangers-on and failures, eternal bit players, leading men, women and their entourages. Allen's serves some of the best chili in town and perhaps the greatest black bean soup.
I liked the place. Went there often.
As we entered, the maitre d' smiled and kissed Christine, holding his hand out to me, clapping Tommy on the back. We were welcome there as semi-celebrities. Christine was well-known in theatre and a big tipper; I was a successful acting coach, director and actor, and Tommy's brother was one of the top film stars.
We found a table and ordered drinks. Christine was gay and in her element, escorted by two tall good-looking men. She laughed too loud and bounced continually, her head spinning like a top to see who was there, to wave to the celebrities she knew and to flaunt her mink, her jewels and her grotesque outfit. I will not bother to describe this one. Suffice it to say that Oman the Tentmaker had outdone himself.
Martin Balsam smiled and nodded to us as he passed into the bar; Shelley Winters raised her glass to toast us (Shelley delighted in toasting anyone-); Rip Torn leaned over my shoulder to remark on my telegram to him on his opening in a new show off-Broadway; some of the cast of Hair let out a whoop when they saw Christine and swept over to her for much kissing and dirty wisecracks. Through most of this, Tommy sat impassively, watching the door, waiting for someone to arrive, I supposed.
"Who is it tonight, Tommy?"
He turned abruptly and smiled. "Just a friend. You know-Ken. He said he would meet us here."
Yes, I knew Ken. The fabulously handsome young singer who had just made the big break. He had studied with me for a short time and had recently signed a contract to make films in England, films about a rock group who were actually spies but used their music and popularity to hide their undercover activities. I was happy for Ken. It couldn't possibly have happened to a nicer person.
"Didn't know he was in town."
"Yeah. Flew in last night. He called me today."
Tommy turned back to the door and at that moment, Ken entered. He was alone, tall, tanned, even more handsome then I had remembered. He was dressed beautifully (I remembered him when I had to loan him a jacket to go out one night) and he was smiling that million-dollar smile of his. He saw us immediately and ran to the table.
Christine, of course, was dissolved in tears, embracing him for dear life, calling attention to our table with her carrying-on. Tommy hugged Ken with genuine feeling and I stared into his eyes without smiling. I wasn't sure how he would react to me. He never really liked me that much. He tolerated me as an instructor but I found myself always on guard with him.
He smiled and reached out his hand and the moment was sealed. I smiled then too.
"Great to see you, Ken. And congratulations!"
"Thanks, Chris! You always said it would happen and you were right! In fact, you had a lot to do with it! Hey! This is really cool!"
He clasped Tommy's shoulders and took the fourth seat opposite me. Then the conversations got hurried and confused; questions about England, the film, his trip, his fiancee, his health, his success and so forth. My mind wandered away from them from time to time as I gazed around the small room.
I had been uneasy since coming here and I now knew why. There she was, sitting in the corner almost obscured by the fuzzy heads of the Hair cast. Karen! And she was staring at me. She was not smiling however. Her eyes smouldered, her mouth curled and she tossed her head. When our eyes met, she held for a moment, then turned quickly to the boy beside her. I recognized him as one of the featured members of that rock musical. They kissed then, his hand on her breast. When they broke out of it, she turned in my direction and her eyes defiantly hit out at me. I smiled and turned back to our table to pick up the conversation. I didn't look her way again.
The longer I sat there and listened, or partially listened, to the chatter or the voices from the adjoining table, the more uneasy I became. Perhaps it was the recent quiet of the shore, the house, my serene host and hostess. The contrast was intense. Maybe it was the realization that Karen sat across the room and our eyes were bound to cross from time to time. Not purposely for I avoided that corner. But it would happen and it made me uncomfortable.
Something was wrong with the evening. As the saying goes, the vibrations were bad.
"What's the matter, Chris?"
I looked at her. She was concerned obviously because it was the first time in over an hour that she stopped laughing about something.
"Nothing."
But she knew I was lying. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke at me. "Wanna leave?"
"Of course not." Another lie.
"Chris, you've been so quiet all night. What's the problem? In love?"
Ken had reached out to take a cigarette from my pack lying on the table. He grinned as he lit it, a very happy content young man. He should be.
"In love? Chris? Never happen."
How would you know, cunt? Because I'm cold to you? Well all the proves is that you do not turn me on.
I glanced toward the door for no particular reason. And at that moment, a group of people dashed in. Apparently the rain was coming down harder and they bolted through the door, shaking the water from their clothes and hair. And it was quite the group!
Now I could relax. My uneasiness was answered. There it was! Roz with Bud on her arm; Jerry and a tall, dark, vitally handsome man who stayed close to him; Valentina and a black actor named Don currently in an off-Broadway show. He was an extraordinarily beautiful black boy who had come to us to study acting. He sat in on several classes and then just dropped out. I never knew why but I was sure that Christine had something to do with it. Her weakness was gorgeous blacks and I caught her looking at him many times with such naked lust that I was embarrassed for her.
Well, full house! This should prove interesting. The tall dark stranger was obviously Eric, Jerry's "roommate", or whatever. I looked closely at him. He could have been an actor himself, although I had heard he was in advertising. He was powerfully built and moved as gracefully as a cat. His face was dark, sharply contoured with a trace of perhaps American Indian blood there somewhere. When he smiled, which seemed to be seldom, his teeth flashed white and his face relaxed. All in all quite the man. I was sure Christine had also noticed him and was fixing questions in her head.
Roz was absolutely out of sight! Her platinum blonde hair was swept back revealing that outstanding classic face. Her make-up excellent accenting her sad beauty. She was wearing a white coat with white fur, heavy white fur which lined a hood thrown back over her shoulders. It was voluptuous and just right to complement her rare elegance. Bud was... Bud. He was cute and laughing delightedly as he shook his thick hair, sending the rain all over several nearby bar patrons. He too, seemed to be well-dressed for whatever the occasion.
Then it struck me! Of course! Tonight was the opening of Jerry's play! That's why they were here! Or was it last night? Anyway, they obviously had all come from the same place.
And-apparently Karen knew they would be here.
Well, one big happy family! Valentina saw me first. Her eyes lit up and then went out when she saw Christine. She hated the madam's guts and purposely avoided her at all costs. She reached for Don's arm and held him possessively. I started to smile in reaction to that when my eyes caught Bud's and he stopped stock still and stared at me. Then he smiled shyly and turned to Roz. They, too, linked arms and I almost guffawed out loud waiting for Jerry and his friend to do the same. Then the room would be one great big enormous platonic daisy chain!
At that moment, I wanted to leave. In fact, I rose up out of my chair and started to tell my companions of the evening that I was cutting out when Roz swept over to us, dragging Bud with her and she planted a big kiss on Tommy's cheek, surprising him as he was in the midst of a sentence. Of course the room then became utter bedlam. Everyone reacting as though they hadn't seen each other in years, much with the arms, the kissing, the congrats to Ken, the playful bitchiness.
There are times, are there not, when you wish you could lift up your hand and with a giant eraser, sweep away everything in front of you? This was one of those times.
Snatched of the conversation were audible. Things such as: "...have to leave almost immediately. Going to Tina's for the opening night party." "..gorgeous, Jerry. Um-mmmm!" (Of course that was the Madam, licking her lips over the two boys, remembering the nudity, the sex.) "...to see you, Mr. Greene."
"Ken! Congrats, you lucky son-of-a-bitch!"
"Wow! As beautiful as ever!"
"This is Eric. Eric, Mr. Greene."
I broke out of my reverie and shook his hand. Big, massive hands, strong and tanned. If this man was gay he sure as hell knew how to hide it. Any broad in the joint would flip in a minute if he just raised a pinkie. I glanced at Jerry and he was smiling proudly. Funny kid. His big night-and he was more concerned with people realizing his happiness with this attractive masculine individual standing uncomfortably amongst all these egomaniacs.
"Eric. How about joining me for a drink at the bar?"
He looked at Jerry and the kid grinned broadly. He nodded and I was flattered. He wants me to get to know his lover. He's proud of him and he's pleased I made the gesture. Not only was I interested in speaking to him, but I also couldn't stand the press of people and the insane buzzing around us.
We pushed up against the bar and he seemed to relax a little more-. He too ordered a Scotch and we both sipped without speaking for quite a few minutes.
"How did it go tonight?"
He knew I meant the play but he did not seem to want to discuss it. "All right, I guess. I'm not really an authority on such things."
I studied his strong sharp features.
"You don't really like it too much, do you?"
He turned to look at me.
"No. I guess I don't."
"Because of Jerry?"
A shadow crossed his eyes and for a moment I thought I saw a hint of anger, at me or something.
"I suppose so."
"He's a good actor and also he's something else-a very nice kid. Those two things make him one of the rarest creatures in this screwed-up town." I paused a moment. "I didn't like it either. But mainly because I object to the shock of it. There is good theatre and there is theater for shock. Seldom are they synonymous."
He smiled slightly then and I had the feeling we could become friends. He turned again to me and held his glass up as if to toast what I had just said. He downed it and ordered another.
"Jerry thinks very highly of you, too. He says you're one helluva good acting teacher. You've done a lot for him."
"He's done most of it himself. I've just helped him see it. There's really no such thing as an acting teacher. Acting cannot be taught. My job is just to help people free themselves, open themselves up to their own potential. But they must have the ability to follow through on that or all the work I do goes for nothing. I many times bust my hump on foam."
He watched me without reacting. He looked as though he wanted to say something confidentially, to open up to me. It was uncanny but I knew then that this man was a loner, that he kept his own grief and would never let anyone into his private world. Even Jerry. But just for a fraction of a second I was there. And, it chilled me.
Conversely, I immediately felt warmed, warmed and terribly sensitive to him. I could almost touch the loneliness and I wanted him to touch mine. What I had said to Michelle and Jeff-this was it! It was not a fantasy! It was for real!
I abruptly set down my glass and turned to go back to the table without a word to him.
"Chris. Thanks... for the drink."
I looked into his eyes and we were not lonely for that moment.
When we got back to the table, everyone was preparing to cut out for Tina's Place, a little restaurant in the Village where most of the gay crowd hung out. I had been there once and had no intentions of repeating the visit.
Karen had come over with her hippie friend in tow. She was obviously trying to upset Jerry but from where I was standing it appeared she did not succeed. Christine and Tommy and Ken were slipping into their coats, the whole lot of them preparing to leave.
"Chris? Are you going?"
It was Roz. Calling me by my first name, huh? Trying to tell me something? She was looking at me closely, whispering the words.
"No."
She moved closer. "Can we... would it be all right if we... y'know, went somewhere else for a drink?"
"I think it would be all right."
I paused when I saw Bud standing, waiting for her by the door.
"What about your escort?"
She squeezed my arm and moved over to speak to him. I saw Karen sitting with her friends again, her head down, her shoulders shaking. Jerry and the others had left; her time for vengeance had passed. For a minute there I felt sorry for her. But it passed too, when she looked up at me and tossed off her drink, her hand slipping between the boy's legs beside her. She cupped his privates tightly and ran her tongue over her lips as she leaned close to let him kiss her.
"Come on, Chris. Bud is coming but only to walk us."
Without another look in her direction, I passed Karen's table, moving out of her life into the rainy night. Bud came with us only to help hail a cab. As we buzzed off, I turned to look back on his forlorn figure moving slowly down the street, his shoulders hunched against the driving rain.
The apartment was small and beautifully furnished. She had taken a great deal of patient time selecting just what she liked for it. White. Everything was white, or accented by white. The walls, white; the rug, white; the furniture, including the TV, white. It was dazzling. Splashes of color here and there, a red cushion, a green-blue chair, flowers in a white vase, brilliant deep-hued burgundy flowers. She had class this broad and she was not trying to impress me as she swept into the room, indicating the sofa for me.
"Wow! Very nice! Who pays your bills?"
She laughed then, high and bubbling. "I do! But if you remember, I am also an interior designer. Not my main interest, but it keeps me in cigarettes."
"You smoke a good brand."
I slipped into the sofa, sinking into the cushions, relaxing for the first time all evening. This was indeed neat. In a moment, she had soft music going on the stereo. And in two moments, I had a Scotch on the rocks in my hand.
"How did you know?"
"I remember things. You said once in class that you only drink Scotch. I'm a collector of incidental trivia."
She sat opposite me on the green-blue chair sipping a creme de menthe in a brandy snifter. She was all soft and white/white.
"You belong here. Sure as hell know what compliments you."
"So do you."
She looked at me over the rim of the glass. Her eyes twinkled as she tossed her white-gold hair back with an easy throw of her head. Gorgeous female.
"Do you think Bud minded our cutting out on him like that?"
She looked at me seriously. "No, I don't. He's a very perceptive boy and... " She paused a moment. "And he loves you."
Then she stopped and stared at me with open frank eyes.
I decided not to speak at that moment.
"Very much."
I blushed a little, I think.
"Oh well, sure but... "
"No, I mean that. He's in love with you. That's something else again. Don't you know that?"
She was not baiting. She was serious and calm about it.
I turned my head away, glancing at the portrait of her over the mantel. It did not flatter her but it caught her melancholy.
"Don't you?"
"I'd rather not discuss it!"
Why was I so short with her?
"It make you uptight, doesn't it? Why?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does.
She put the brandy snifter on the coffee table and reclined back into the chair. She raised her leg and curled her hands around the knee, compressing her breasts, causing them to push against the flimsy material of the dress. A magnificent picture of the complete woman. The artist should have caught her like this.
I knew that I was going to have her before the night was out.
"Listen, Chris. You preach freedom, relaxation, love in the classroom. Sometimes I don't think you practice what you preach."
I stared across the table at her a moment.
"Come here. Let's be free, relaxed and love."
I smiled my most winning and wolfish smile. But, she didn't budge. Oh! This one wanted to control the moves herself. A new kind of challenge for me. Okay, maybe I would like it.
"Well, what about it?"
"Don't you ever give up? I'd rather change the subject."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. But don't hurt him. He's a good kid and he's been handed a few rough deals in his life. Don't add to that."
"We've all had a rough time. Life is hell."
She scowled, picking up the snifter again.
"I hate you when you get caustic and bitter."
She sipped again and did not look at me for some time.
"Roz, I like the kid too. He's a sweetheart and he's got a lot going for him. Plus the fact that he's talented. I know that. But did we come up here to discuss Bud?"
She was quiet. "No, I guess not." Then, she leaned back in the chair again, staring at me silently across the table.
"You came up here to fuck me, didn't you?"
I almost choked on the Scotch. Wow! You put it on the line, don't you, lady? Her startling grey-green eyes did not waver.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"Is that all I mean to you?"
I almost laughed then. Oh, hell, are we going to have to go through all this Doris Day shit before we get to it?
"No, but I want you. What do you want to mean to me?"
"I don't know. But a little more than that, that's for sure."
There was a long pause before either one of us faced the issue again.
"All right, let's get to it."
She straightened up, put down the glass, reached behind her back and zipped down her dress. It fell open. She was nude under it, her beautifully shaped yet small breasts were exposed to me. Her classic beauty was breathtaking then, the long, noble line of the shoulders and neck, the pliant body, the haughty way she held her head. All of it tantalizing in the most provocative way. But I was speechless with the abruptness of her actions.
"Hey! Wait a minute!... "
"For what? If that's what we're here for, let's do it. It's getting late and I have appointments tomorrow."
Her cold, precise attitude stunned me. I was not prepared for this. I watched her as she rose up off the chair and let the dress slip to the floor. She was now only wearing a half-slip and panties. She quickly rid herself of those.
I placed the glass on the table as I stared at her body. The angular, sheer brilliance of it shook me. There was little sensuality about her now, only cold metallic glamour. I knew she had been a fashion model at one time and the fact was now blatantly evident. There wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on those sleek bones. And she knew just exactly how to stand to reveal her body at its greatest.
"The bedroom is right this way."
She turned then and moved gracefully through two doors and off. Her walk was studied and precise, like everything eke about her, her buttocks lean and smooth, barely conscious of physical movement. I rose up from the couch to follow her, throwing off bits and pieces of clothing as I went. To tell you the truth, I was fascinated as hell! I didn't have an erection (who could, looking at all that icicle splendor) as at the moment she did not turn me on one bit. But I was going to fuck her, show her a good one if it killed me. I was doing my best to keep from laughing; it was everything I could do to prevent myself from letting out a war whoop as I sailed into her bedroom and tackled her.
We both went sailing off our feet onto the white bed-wouldn't you know? A WHITE FUCKING BED!
She didn't have time to cry out my attack. She was down full-length on her face, probably imagining that I was going to fuck her dog-fashion. But no, honey, I'm going to shove my hot cock as deep into you as I can get it. And then I'm going to revolve around and around in you and take some of that starch out of you. You won't know how to stand up, let alone walk as if you've got a napoleon in your cunt which you're trying to preserve.
I must admit that one of the reasons I attacked her so forcefully is that my underwear got tangled around my ankles. I didn't dare mention that however. After the initial shock, she was delighted to think that she turned me on so much I would toss her into the sack without preliminaries.
Well, let me tell you! That was one helluva fuck! All that crystalline purity came tumbling down once we hit that bed. In two seconds flat she was under me, her legs shooting into the air like twin missiles. I dived between them, my flaming cock zeroed in on that cunt with unfailing radar. We were locked together without a sound. There was no scream, no shock, no pain - she opened up and took me like a freight elevator.
She wasn't big. She was tight, but she was experienced. That cunt handled my cock with loving care, massaging, caressing, stroking it, stretching it into the deep recesses of her body until I thought I was going to disappear like that pretty genie (Jeanie?) on TV who whisks into that bottle. But was it good, man! Watching that statuesque broad roll around and beg for it was I played a far-out, rock-and-roll melody of fantastic proportions inside her, was worth all the frustration of the week end. Those slick, smooth arms gripped me for dear life, those legs like steel clamps around my waist, those bony, glistening hips-well-oiled and amazingly powerful-as they slammed up to meet every thrust.
I had a bagful of tricks. I used the all. And she dug them, every one. She came up with a few of her own and strangely enough, they surprised me. I thought I had had them all but I learned something that night.
When I tried to kiss her as we both surged toward orgasm, she snarled at me and turned her head. So she didn't dig that, I thought. She was concentrating on each moment, each sensation, each thrill. She responded to them with moans and blissful squeals of delight. There were no moments of fear, no moments of anguish unless she feared I might pull out or anguish over a missed orgasm. It was all sheer pleasure for her. It made me feel almost saintly. I was touching her with a special grace. I was bestowing sexual blessing upon her. I was the Christ!
And then, I knew what was happening! Just what Karen had said. This broad was being fucked by God! And it was in her white virginal bed in her White virginal room in her white virginal apartment.
I reared back and looked down on her. I swear, I almost felt like crossing myself and her. We were in heaven! It was a Heavenly Fuck!
And then, just the thought of that turned me into a demon. The realization brought forth the devil in me and I jabbed my pitchfork into her again and again! There was pain now because she moaned louder and her body shook in spasms. I plunged into her again with the fork, pistoning in and out with all the fire and heat of the man in red. I'll fuck the shit out of you, you lily-white angel! She cried and her eyes shot open as she stared at me.
Red! Red!! RED! The room was no longer white! RED! RED! Everything was RED!!! Her hair was flaming red, each strand a tongue of flame as it flashed before me. Her face was red-hot and parched; her lips scarlet, blood running from them down across her red throat onto the red sheets.
Then I felt her fingers digging into my chest as she pushed at me, hit at me with sharp fists of red-balled flesh and bone. She was screaming, thrashing around, her legs flailing the air above me. But I kept up the pace, the driving, slamming, biting, into her cunt. The heat was terrific. I felt I was burning up, being consumed by the flames.
Jagged tongues of red and gold flame licked up across the floor to the walls, reflecting into our faces. Her eyes were wild as she screamed my name. But I did not hear her. I felt it coming now and there would be nothing to put me off.
I struck out again and again, each time her head twisting with the shock of the blow. She was relaxing a little now, not fighting as much, her hips slowing down, her hands starting to fall away from me, her legs slipping down my sides.
Then, I came! With a white-hot burst I shot into her and the high-pitched scream I heard reverberating around the room was-my own!
As I lay staring at the ceiling, visions of all sorts of perverted ecstasies flashed before me. Roz was in the bathroom. She had been in there for a long time, repairing the damage no doubt. I hadn't meant to hit her so hard, in fact it was the last thing in my mind when we fell into that bed. But she brought it on, she begged for it, she ached for it with all that white, that frosty chill, that glacial beauty.
I was exhausted and spent. I didn't want to sleep for perhaps the first time in my life. Always after sex it was good to doze off arid recoup for another bout if it was in the cards that that session. But now I couldn't sleep. All I wanted to do was lie perfectly still and stare at that white, white ceiling. It became a giant screen, my mind projecting all the porno activities possible. Everyone I ever knew raced across that expanse, tits bouncing, cocks bouncing, asses bouncing. They would lock together and then all link in one daisy chain. In the center of the that line was Christine, all her superfluous flesh hanging and flopping around as her partner searched for her cunt. It was hysterical and I started to laugh. And I laughed and laughed and laughed.
"Son-of-a-bitch! What the fuck are you laughing at?"
She stood in the doorway, one eye turning black-and-blue, a cold washcloth held to her lip to stem the flow of blood. She was still nude, her body bruised and battered from the ordeal. She did not look unhappy however. Instead, she, too, began to laugh, her porcelain body shaking with convulsions as she ran to the bed, throwing herself on top of me.
"I love it, you bastard! Wow! Can you screw!"
I held her and I could feel myself coming alive again, my cock rising up and pressing into her thigh.
"But, honey, did you come?"
"Did I come? About twenty times! Oh, baby! It was good!"
She laughed and then winced, touching her lip.
"Only it will take about a week for these bruises to disappear. I'll have to use all the make-up I own for a cover-up. You marvelous bastard!"
She snuggled against me then and ran her fingers up and down my side until they closed around my cock.
"Ready again, Chris? Well, so am I."
She swung up and around until she was astride my hips, my cock pointing towards me between us. She slid back and gripped it tightly, rotating her buttocks on my thighs. Then she slipped down and my cock found its way into her mouth. She wasn't too good at that but I let her play around for awhile. She loved it, licking it like a giant all-day sucker, slipping her red lips around it gently as she still reacted to the pain I had inflicted. She gripped my balls in her hand and revolved them easily.
"My, Mr. Greene! I do love your cock! It's one of the best I've ever seen. So pretty. Its shape is perfect. Wherever did you get it?"
"When it came my turn for selecting a good one I went to the best place in town. I shop in only the best places."
"Indeed you do! My, oh, my!"
Her lips lapped around the head again and then she tried to take it all but gave up around halfway down. She was exciting the hell out of me and we were wasting time. This was not where she shined. I pulled her up to me and gripped her buttocks, pressing my legs up and out, forcing hers apart until my cock nestled in her hot cunt. She maneuvered a little and it slid in all the way. She moaned and then sat up, her hands placed on my hips. Then she went to work.
She pressed all the way up until I thought it was going to pop out of her but she had it measured perfectly. It just reached the tip, then she dropped down with a whoosh! impaling herself. I was submerged completely in her and it felt like red-hot liquid honey as her hips circled around grinding me into her like a screwdriver. Oh, she was good at this! I pushed up but she held me. Now, she was in control and we would do it her way. Which was all right with me!
I was almost ready working to it much faster this time. And I could see she was too, as she pulled away until my cockhead was at the very opening. Then she closed and opened her cunt, sucking on the head like lips around a popsicle.
THAT DID IT! She was panting with the exertion and it was freaking her out as it was me-and we both came with a great surge as she slipped down on me and buried my cock to the hilt. I could feel the wet hot, sticky come running down the crack between my legs, skidding into the crevice between the cheeks of my ass. I rotated again and again giving her every bit of it. She flopped forward, her white-gold hair spilling into my face. Then she collapsed and we both slept.
I glanced at my watch as I flagged the cab. It was 3 A.M. I had to go to the studio before going home. I had picked Christine up there earlier and had meant to take my notebooks back to the apartment to prepare for the next class. I figured I might as well get them now. The studio would be dark and deserted I thought as we turned down the street and pulled up in front of it. But I was wrong. There was a light burning in the office. Must have left it on earlier, I thought as I paid the cabbie. But no! J remembered turning them all off.
I decided to enter very quietly just in case the place was being burgled. I was no hero but my perverted interest in things dangerous sent a thrill through me as I silently opened the door and slipped through. I closed it without a sound and climbed the stairs. I couldn't hear anything but that didn't mean a thing. The thief could be just as noiseless as I was.
I got to the office door and it was open. I peered around the edge of the door. The room was empty. I stood there a moment listening. But still nothing.
So I guess I did leave the light on before. I started to enter the office when I heard a noise in Studio A. It sounded as though someone was lifting something heavy. There was a moan and then a thrashing around. I heard other noises too but could not distinguish them. The hackles rose up along the back of my neck as I moved very cautiously to the door of the main studio. The sounds were louder now and I could tell they were coming from two people, not one!
The door of Studio A always squeaked. I remembered just in time before touching the handle. I stood there and thought a moment. There was another entrance. I would have to go down the back and enter it by crossing through another studio. I moved quickly but as silently as possible down the hall and slipped through the open doorway. It was pitch black, but I knew my way around. I took one step at a time and finally came to the door which opened into the side of Studio A. It was ajar and it did not squeak as I slowly opened it and stared into the room.
Studio A is on the street and even though there are curtains at the window, the lights from the street always cast an eerie glow into the room when the lights were out. So I was able to see them quite clearly there on the bed.
It was Christine! I almost laughed aloud when I got a close-up of that immense body in the throes of wild sex. Suddenly the vision of Roz's ceiling came back to me and I had to put my hand over my mouth to suppress a loud guffaw. But I was not prepared for the rest of the picture.
An enormous black cock was plowing into her. It was Don, the handsome Negro boy we'd seen earlier at Joe Allen's. He was a sight to see, superbly muscled and uncannily beautiful in that dim light. His whole body tense, his full, powerful buttocks pointed towards me as he raised and lowered his hips, pounding into that mountain of flesh with one of the largest cocks I had ever seen in my life. For a moment there I thought he was using his arm instead of his cock. It was just about the most fantastic sight I had ever hoped to see.
Christine was panting and heaving, not only with passion but the monumental job of holding herself on the bed. Don was very expert at fucking obviously, his body all over her, his cock plowing into her with great abandon, sinking down until it disappeared, leaving his gargantuan balls shaking against her massive thighs.
She was enjoying it and in all honesty I must admit that I, too, was enjoying it. I am not a voyeur, but oh, boy! this was a sight not to be missed! If I had had a camera with me at that moment I would be able to sell those photos for an unbelievable sum, if only for the novelty of it. They were obviously on the brink, the slight bed almost bent double with their pounding and shaking. Now they didn't care who heard them. They were both moaning and crying out, Christine screaming little wailing shouts from time to time, which built higher and higher as she came closer to orgasm. Don reared back and pulled all the way out and then rammed into her - and then, did it again and again. He grabbed her ankles then and held her fat towering legs up and apart as he braced his feet on the floor and battered her with all the power he had.
She was coming now, coming and coming. Screaming, sobbing, choking, thrashing from side to side with her medium-sized tits flopping all around, her bulbous stomach rolling like a mountain of pudding.
That black, amazingly-muscular back tightened up until every muscle was clearly outlined. Don's ass muscles contracted and the glistening beauty of those twin globes reflected the agonizing pleasure he was feeling. I could tell by the way each buttock bounced that Don was coming, great spurts as he pressed against her, releasing all he had within her.
I was a little exhausted myself as I quietly closed the door and slipped out of the studio, back down the hall, to the office. I retrieved my books, as mute as I could possibly be and started to leave the office. Suddenly I decided to exercise my sadistic nature a little, I turned off all the lights before going down the stairway-even shutting off the light in the hall. I left the building and hailed another cab.
As I sank back into the cushions, I started to laugh. I laughed until I cried. The cab raced crazily through the streets of New York, a little old man with his thoughts on getting home from a drab day hacking and an insanely laughing passenger rocking around in the back seat of his cab.
I didn't see Christine for a few days after that. She got the message obviously what with the lights being shut off when she got herself together to leave her trysting place. I couldn't wait for my class later in the week. She had called, was coming in, the ice-cold chill of her voice on the phone establishing the status quo for the day.
I watched the clock, wondering just when she would arrive and what would happen. I was also anxious to see Roz again. And, too, Jerry would be back in class now that the play had opened and settled into a run. Incidentally, I had heard that Eric had left for the coast for a vacation, this giving me the opportunity I needed-probably the only one I would get.
I heard the puffing and groaning as she mounted the stairs. I lit a cigarette and settled back into the chair, facing the door a chicken-shit-eating grin on my face.
She reached the top and stood there. I could see the curve of her stomach before I saw the rest of her. She did not move into full view for a moment.
"Good afternoon."
There was no answer, only a heaving sound as she gathered her remaining breath. Then, she entered. She did not look at me, but went immediately to her desk.
"Morning."
She sat down, glancing at the mail without removing her coat. I decided to remain mute until she broke the silence. I turned to my desk to prepare for the class. The phone rang several times and she beat me to it each time. They were all business calls, one a somewhat secretive conversation which she went to great pains to hide from my hearing. It was amusing and childish but I understood perfectly.
People came to the office to get material for the classes. I interviewed three new prospective students, scheduled several auditions and rehearsals of outside groups in the various studios during the week. Two of the interviewees were girls, the other an older man whom I had seen many times on TV commercials. Now that he was making good money he wanted to learn how to act. As usual, the cart before the horse. He tried to impress me with his background but I was noncommittal. I feigned surprise when he mentioned his commercial work. I pretended not to have seen them. He was genuinely deflated. But, I couldn't have one of my students out to impress me with his credentials. God knows one of them was not his acting ability.
As I finished up with one of the girls, an attractive redhead without a brain in her head, members of the class arrived. Keith was first, bringing with him a friend to audit. I told him his friend could watch but not participate. Christine took two dollars from him for the privilege. Valentina came back, gushing and exotic-looking. She had a new love life and it was doing her a lot of good, obviously. Jerry came in, his face down a little, his manner quiet. Apparently he missed his lover already and it had been only a few days. Roz did make it, heavily made up to cover our battle scars. She smiled and told me that she was prepared to work much harder now. Even Bud came to the class, stopping to inquire if it would be all right. I told him it would but we would try it once and if he found it difficult then he would have to leave. Of course this conversation had to be whispered with Christine's rabbit ears tuned in for even the faintest whisper.
Then they all started to arrive in twos and fours until the whole class was present. The last one to arrive was Don. I must say that my acting ability left me for a moment as I raised my eyebrows in surprise. At first I thought he had just come to visit Christine. But I was wrong.
"Chris, Don will be coming back into class starting today. He always wanted to come back, didn't you, Don?"
She smiled coquettishly and touched his hand as he sat next to her desk. His handsome face was impassive but he nodded to me.
"That's if it's all right with you, Mr. Greene?"
All right with me? That's funny. I could see myself hunting for another teaching job if it wasn't all right with me.
So I played their little game too.
"It's fine. Glad to have you back."
I reached out to grip his hand. He did not rise out of the chair, but returned my handshake almost insolently. I bit my lip but turned back to my desk to pick up my notebook.
"Class starts in two minutes, Don. Maybe you'd better go in now."
"He'll be in in a few minutes, Chris."
She turned to me with a frozen smile. She was letting me know that he would arrive in the class when she was ready, not when I was.
I turned to her without smiling.
"Two minutes, Christine."
With that I turned to the door and went out. This constant battle between us was beginning to wear me down. Over the merest trifles. But it was a conflict which she relished. She blossomed during combat; withered during a lull. That was her nature, not mine. And it was tiring.
"All right, people. Settle down."
I was even bored with saying that. But today the class invigorated me. I felt challenged. Let one of you motherfuckers take advantage, take liberties with me because of my personal life and I'll crucify you. As I glanced around at their faces, I could see the triumph there. Now they did not have to be subservient, now they could manipulate me a little. Now they could relax and project either their hostility if they felt in the mood or their benevolence and trust to their lord and master. Either way it was offensive to me but the price I paid for my own lust.
"Some of you people are back in class after a hiatus. Good! But I couldn't care less about your reasons for leaving. You're back and you'll work or you'll get your asses out of here, fast. Some of you never left, but you've become lazy, selfish. That's over with. I want you to... " I had to break off because Christine was showing Don into the room. She was all smiles as she ushered him in and indicated a chair for him, giving me a look of supreme command. I would deflate that a little, Madam.
"You're late, Don. This class begins promptly at three thirty. Remember that."
He glanced at me and then at Christine. She was scarlet and looked furious enough to tell me off in front of the whole crew. But she didn't. The better part of valor. She bit her lip and turned to leave the room, closing the door with a little too much vehemence.
"As I was saying... " I paused to let the fact that I was rudely interrupted sink in.
"You've got work to do in here. You pay for these sessions, good hard-earned money for the most part. You expect me to be prompt, to be ready, to be prepared, to know what I am doing, and to keep in mind that we're here to work, not play. I expect the same from you, and don't you ever forget it."
I stopped then and glanced around. The smirks were gone, the triumphant looks had faded and the quiet that settled over that group was a thing of joy. They were surprised and a little miffed at my attack.
Well, suffer, you egomaniacal dimwits. If you think this is bad, just wait.
"All right, I'm ready to see scenes. As you're getting your books out and lighting up, I would like the attendance taken."
I glanced at him pointedly. He sat up then, tentatively smiled at me. "Bud?"
Then a grin flashed across his face and he practically leaped toward me for the attendance sheet. Everyone present.
"All right, who's ready?"
Arlene held up her hand first. She was doing a scene with Valentina from Lillian Hellman's The Children's Hour, a rather dated drama about lesbianism. Shocking in its day but quite tame now. As I watched them set up chairs and tables, I couldn't help but smile. The contrast in them was amazing and I wondered just who would read which part.
The scene was quite well-handled, with Arlene again demonstrating her unique talent. She built the scene with great skill, hitting the high emotional peaks with control. I looked closely at her this time and realized that she was much more attractive than I had first thought. Her crooked teeth were actually quite interesting, giving her plain face a quality of unmistakable beauty. With this new wave of "ugly is beautiful", she was able to turn her lack of sexuality into something akin to plain, simple full-bodied grace.
Valentina, of course, was too big, brazen and obvious. But she was forced into working closely with Arlene and this helped to stabilize the dramatic force of the scene.
A few of the members of the class were visibly shaken by their work, especially Bud who was crying openly. Sensitive kid. Their work was indeed excellent and I told them so, criticizing only their transposition of words and phrases, their awkwardness in the staging. Well, an auspicious start.
Jerry did a scene with Roz-Arthur Miller's A View From The Bridge. He was perfect for the role of Rodolpho, his blond beauty a natural. Roz was not right for the play but she played it so well that it was thoroughly convincing. As I watched them, my mind drifted again to Karen. I tried to imagine her with him, tried to call up that anger with her for her vicious remarks to me. But it was difficult and I found myself wondering whether or not to follow through on my threat. After all, what did it matter?
Could it also be that I had met Eric, liked him and didn't want to be the cause of any hurt to him? Not that Jerry wouldn't make it with someone else during Eric's absence. It shouldn't be with me.
Other scenes were done, some terrible, some good, some boring, some unbelievable in their amateurishness. But I somehow got through the class without too much difficulty, feeling actually quite good about the whole thing. I guess my little speech at the opening was a good move. Must remember that.
As they were filing out of the room, I called to Jerry.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'd like to talk to you about something. Would you call me?"
"Yes, sir. When?"
"Oh, tonight maybe. After the show. Perhaps we can meet for a drink or something. Nothing important. Just to talk."
He smiled, pleased.
"Yes, sir. I'd like that. I'll call tonight. Oh, I don't have your number."
I wrote it down for him. Then he rejoined Keith and the other boy and they were off. Keith had once asked Karen if I swung both ways and she had vehemently told him off. Maybe what I just did would make him think about it again. Well, I couldn't care less about that either.
"Mr. Greene?"
I turned to see Arlene.
"Yes?"
"I want to thank you for your comments on my scene. You really made me feel good about it."
Her eyes were nice, I thought. She had taken off the glasses and I could see them clearly. They were hazel with tiny flecks. Her face was relaxed and she had a half-smile on her lips.
"You do good work, I'll tell you so. When you do otherwise, you'll hear about that too."
"I know."
She smiled and, for some reason, I found her teeth attractive. I guess it was the first time I had ever seen her smile. Interesting!
"How old are you, Arlene?"
"Eighteen, sir."
Eighteen. Hmmm! She looked older. Yet there was a naivete about her that was obvious only when close up.
"Why do you want to be an actress?"
"I don't know."
An honest answer.
"I have things, in here... " She pointed to her chest, which by the way, was much nicer than I had first noticed. "I want to express myself. I was never able to in all my life."
She looked down at her hands as they clutched a suede fringed bag.
"It's hard for me to... to show what I feel. I guess I'm just a little mouse."
"Hardly that. You've got a great deal of power in your work."
As I studied her it suddenly occurred to me that this girl was very probably a virgin. I mean a virgin not only in sex but also in love. She was tight, enclosed into herself. She wanted to act to release that. Now I could understand what she was doing onstage.
"Arlene, just relax. Be yourself. I'll help you. Let yourself go. Start saying, feeling and thinking what you want. Get used to expressing yourself. It's easy. All it takes is the desire to do it. Okay?"
She was serious then, looking deeply into my eyes. Her hand reached out to touch mine. I was not surprised.
"Mr. Greene? Help me!"
It was a cry, pathetic, lonely and filled with need. Tears glistened in her eyes as she leaned up to kiss me on the chin. Then she was gone.
I stood there, stunned.
Wasn't it Santayana who said, "Perhaps the only true dignity of man is his capacity to despise himself? I think so. If so, then I was one of the most dignified sons-a-bitches on this mother-grabbing earth.
As I sat in my apartment sipping a Scotch and waiting for the phone to ring, I battled with myself over the pros and cons of getting to Jerry. All right! Let's face it! There must be more to it than just the idea of putting Karen down. That in itself was childish and stupid. Then why was I holding onto this incredible thing? Was I justifying it that way in order to salve my own conscience? Did I really want him for that purpose, or did I really want him?
If it was just to fuck a boy, I had done that and it was one of the nicest sexual bouts I had ever had. So if I wanted it again, all I had to do was call Bud. Then why Jerry? It would never be my bag and that was not rationalization. I couldn't give up cunt. HELL! That would be like dying!
So? What was it?
I could think of a millions reasons why I shouldn't do it. Eric, for one. A truly nice man who I would welcome as a friend. Jerry himself. A nice boy with talent and frankness which might be destroyed by just such acts on the part of people he respected. My reputation. God knows it was suffering now, what with my athletics all over this city in various student bedrooms. And who knows how much they are shooting off their mouths? Every manager and agent in town probably knew my bit. Although they might envy me, they would not respect me. Well, did I need their respect? Not particularly.
But if it were for love, sex, or a need for a specific person, then it might have valid motivation. Just to screw to prove a point? Hell, that's ridiculous.
Okay, then why should I do it? Well, as I said before: to justify myself. I was still convinced that sex with my own was immoral. Intellectually, I could live with it. I understood it that way. But in actual practice?
For some reason or other I felt it was important, however, to show that bitch that a real man could make it both ways, even though I personally had other preferences.
What would happen later, after the act was committed? How would he react to me? Would he drop out of class? Would he avoid me? Would he let Eric know about it and put me in line for a good shellacking from that powerfully-built man? Would the madam find out about it? She was already suspicious of Bud. She had asked a dozen times why he dropped out so suddenly and then returned without explanation. I had repeated that I didn't know, but she wasn't buying that.
So? Would I do it or not?
The phone rang.
"Mr. Greene? Jerry."
"Hi. How did the show go?"
"Fine. Very well. I'm sorry I'm calling so late, but I had an argument with my agent. Something about a screen test I'm supposed to take. I've been to see the people two or three times since the play opened and I guess they are interested. Now, my agent wants me to drop out of the play. He thinks it will screw up my chances in films. Y'know, because of the subject matter and everything?"
"He could be right. But, it's hard to say."
"Anyway, he argued about it for hours it seems. I finally told him to go to hell and he left. So I've been sitting here in the dressing room wondering if I'm in any kind of mood to meet you for a drink."
"Don't worry about it. I'm used to emotional actors and their ego trips."
He laughed then and seemed to relax a little. "Okay, sir. Where shall we meet?"
"Well, you're in the Village. Let me see. How about McBell's. Know where that is?"
"Yes, sir. Sixth Avenue, I think. Not too far from O. Henry's?"
"Right. Just up the street towards Eighth Street. How about if I meet you in half an hour? Okay?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be there. And thanks."
I ordered a Scotch and slipped onto a stool. I was early, I guess. A few minutes later he walked in, smiling and shivering with the cold.
"Wow! I think it's going to snow. Getting very cold and I didn't wear enough tonight."
"Sit down. Have a brandy or something to warm you."
"Good idea".
He ordered a Hennessey and we relaxed. He seemed a little uncomfortable. I suppose it was because it was the first time we had ever socialized.
"Eric get off all right?"
"Oh, yeah. I wanted to see him off but he left me a note. Said he didn't like good-byes. It's not as if he'll be gone forever. Just a week or two."
"A very nice man. I liked him very much."
"Yes, he is." We were both silent then.
"Where did you meet him; Or is that personal?"
"Oh, no! Of course not! Well, I was living with... with a friend. And we weren't getting on too well."
"Karen?"
He turned to me with big eyes.
"You know about that?"
"Yes. Doesn't everyone?"
He flushed then.
"Do they? Wow!"
"It doesn't matter. Go on."
"Well, anyway, we had a fight one night after a long line of arguments. Over nothing, really. That's what they were all about. Nothing."
"I know the feeling."
"Anyway, I went out for a walk. It was raining and I walked down by the East River. I used to do that sometimes. Anyway, I guess I... I guess I started to cry or something and this man spoke to me. He thought maybe I was going to jump off the dock, I guess. Anyway, he gave me a cigarette and we talked for a few minutes. I trusted him. I don't know, I guess it was just something about him. He was strong, sure of himself. And he was quiet."
He stopped and sipped the brandy. His face was calm and relaxed.
"He took me to Tina's Place. I'd never been there before. I got uptight about it. Have you ever been there?"
"Yes. Once."
"Well, then you know."
"Yes, I know."
We decided not to pursue the obvious.
"Anyway, that's how we met. I guess it sounds like I was a... a pick-up or something."
He seemed to want to hear me say that this was not true, but I remained mute.
"Maybe I was. But it was different. He's really a terrific person."
He was silent again, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.
"I'm sure he is. Jerry, don't get uptight with me. I've seen it all and done it all. Relax. I am not making judgments about you in my mind. I couldn't do that. Me, least of all."
He turned to me and smiled that easy, smooth, all-American boy smile.
"Yeah, I've heard about you, Mr. Greene. You're quite the... well, I was going to say stud, but I guess that's a faggot term."
"Not really. I can apply. Is that what they say? Whoever they is?"
He laughed along with me then.
"That's what they say!"
"I'm flattered. And, what do you think about that? I mean, the fact that I am the stud, as you put it?"
"What do I think about it? Well, I don't know."
Jerry looked into the brandy glass and swirled the drink around a little.
"I guess I'm not really... Well, it's not exactly what I would picture for my acting teacher. But that's stupid too. Because who says anyone has to be anything. I still respect you and admire you tremendously. You're a... a big man, Mr. Greene. You're sensual, attractive, lusty, very intelligent, I guess you're really brilliant. Hey! Listen to me-those big words! I mean, everything you do is exciting and... and big, I guess. You're so much more of a person than any of us. That's why we all... well, I guess love is the right word."
He fell silent then. He was staring into the glass, his face a little flushed, his breathing irregular.
"Strange, I feel so articulate with you. And before I met Eric, I couldn't open my mouth. Remember? Both you and he - you've done so much for me. Wow! I'm rapping my guts out! Sorry!"
"Don't be. It's great that you're able to express yourself. I remember when you first came to me. It's a distinct pleasure to see the improvement, whether I had anything to do with it or not."
I looked at his profile. God! You're an outstandingly attractive boy. Would it were me.
"Chris!"
It was Melvin Newton. Fuck!
"Hi, Mel."
He was licking his lips as he looked at Jerry.
"Jerry, this is Melvin Newton. Mel, Jerry."
They shook hands then, Melvin keeping Jerry's hand in his as long as he could.
"You're the one! I knew I'd seem you somewhere, in that play! My God! You're marvelous! And just beautiful!
He turned to me.
"One of your students, Chris?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
The prissy little queen pursed his lips then and nodded wisely.
"I see. And I know your reputation amongst the student body! Well, you've got divine taste, my dear. You're a terrific-looking couple. You light up the whole bar."
He stood then, hand on hips, waiting for God knows what.
"Well, I won't disturb you another minute. Have fun. Be nice to him, Chris dear. Nice to have met you, you gorgeous boy!"
He swished away from the bar and joined two screaming broads who were elaborately made up. In fact, it suddenly hit me that they were boys in drag!
They left however. McBell's was not their cup of tea. Too tame. Thank God!
"Who was that?"
Jerry was grinning wickedly at me, but there was also something else in his eyes.
"Not a friend, that's for sure."
Funny I felt I had to protest.
"I hope not. I can't imagine you being friendly with people like that. Very weird!"
He continued to stare at me. And I didn't like what I saw in his eyes.
He stopped grinning all of a sudden. He knows! I did not drop my eyes, but continued to watch him as he slowly turned his head away and back to his drink. He did not take another sip, however. He merely played with the glass.
"Mr. Greene. You wanted to speak with me... about something."
I waited a long time before answering. Now that I was sure he knew, I didn't quite know how to approach him. And I was not yet sure if I had lost him.
"What's the matter, Jerry?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, there is. What is it?"
He took his time before answering.
"I don't know. I feel that our... our relationship is different now. I mean... all of a sudden. It frightens me a little."
"How is it different?"
"I don't know."
""You mean, you think I want to go to bed with you. Is that it?"
He reacted strongly to this, almost dropping the glass.
"Is that it, Jerry?"
"I... I don't know. Is it?"
"Will you listen if I explain something to you?"
He nodded.
"Let's take our drinks to a table."
I motioned to Michel and asked him for a table. He nodded and leaned forward to take our drinks. We found one near the rear of the cafe. After getting settled, I asked Jerry if he wanted something to eat. We both decided on a hamburger, as they are a specialty at McBell's. Then we relaxed and faced each other.
"This whole thing is crazy, Jerry, and I hope you'll be patient with me. I want you to know the truth of it. I don't know why, but I do. Okay?"
He nodded again and then he looked up at me with a warmer expression. I knew then that it would be all right. I could talk to this boy.
So I told him the whole story: about Karen and myself (his mouth fell open on that), about our affair, our fights, our problems with his image all the time. He seemed very concerned about Karen's being hung up on him. I told him about our argument, the homosexual thing, and he was not surprised at her reaction. Then I told him about Bud without mentioning the boy's name. And I told about my reaction to that. Finally, I told him what I had decided to do and the reasons for it. Not only the Karen thing but all my own reasons as well. I found talking to this boy with utter candor very refreshing and decided then not to worry about our relationship in the future.
When I had finished, he was silent for a long time. The hamburgers came and we ate them without speaking. I ordered drinks for both of us and we sat there, smoking and drinking in total silence.
Finally, he broke it.
"Thank you for telling me all this, Mr. Greene."
I asked him to please call me Chris.
"You amaze me more every time I see you, every time I listen to you speak. I am constantly amazed by you. And I'm flattered. I mean, I'm flattered about that part-y'know, about your wanting to go to bed with me. That's quite a confession for you. I'm sure it wasn't easy. If I wasn't with Eric, I probably would be flattered enough to go with you in a minute. But I'm sure you've gathered by now that I'm in love with him. I love him more than my life."
"I know that, kid. That's one of the biggest hang-ups I had about the whole thing. He's a nice guy and I'm sure he deserves you."
"I hope it's the other way around. Wow! Chris! This is a fantastic thing you've told me! And, I can't quite adjust to it yet. I will, though. And, I mean, I know you don't dig the gay scene so it's even wilder."
He was quiet a moment or two. Then he suddenly laughed.
"Hey, Mr. Greene! It would be wild with us!"
I was surprised but pleased with that.
"Yes, indeed it would be."
I looked at him. A gem, this kid, Eric, you are one lucky bastard.
So it was said! The deed was done, at least verbally. And he had taken it very well. But what had it done to me? Good question. For one thing, I wanted him more than before. Maybe I wanted him to save myself. Who knows? But I knew then that I would never do it. I wouldn't even try.
I was learning a few things from my students. They came to me for guidance, help, instruction and they were giving me as much back as I gave. Maybe I should pay them. He guessed my thoughts perhaps because he smiled and reached out to touch my arm. But, I said nothing.
"I hope someday I will be able to appreciate you. I do now as a teacher and as a... May I say friend? But I mean appreciate what you've gone through, appreciate your mind, your emotions, your approach to life. My experience has been so limited. I don't mean sexual experience although that is important, too. I mean with people. Wow! Mr. Greene, you are not even of the so-called now generation, but you're also not of the over-thirty group either. You're with it, man! And, even though you may have doubts like anybody else you are a very together person!"
"I doubt that, whatever it means."
"Honestly, I must say that I probably would've hated your guts if you had made a pass at me. I love and respect you; such a thing would have destroyed that, I think. I guess you knew that all along; otherwise you wouldn't have confessed so much."
I guess I did know that, youngster.
Then he laughed aloud, a big, free-sounding laugh.
"Wow! I am really flattered! You can have anybody you want! I mean, both sexes! The chicks in the class would give their souls to make it with you. Know what they call you? Superstud! Yeah! I guess a lot of the guys would dig it too. And you wanted to make it with me! Wow! Out of sight, Mr. Greene!"
I laughed too. Why not? What else was there to do?
We finished our drinks and talked of other things. Our relationship was-different now, but it was a helluva lot better. He was more relaxed with me, freer and some of the awe was gone. For that I was grateful. To be human is so much more realistic than all the shit I was faced with every time I entered that studio.
When we left, he thanked me for my confidence again. He gripped my hand strongly.
"Hey, Mr. Greene! Y'know, if I had known before what I know now, who knows? We might have made it way back then. And it would have been a privilege."
"Thanks, Jerry. Take care of yourself. See you in class next week?"
It was a question. I needed the answer to assure myself that everything was going to be all right.
He grinned and hit my arm slightly.
"I'll be there, sir. You can count on it."
And, he was gone.
I watched him walk away into the falling snow, shivering with the cold as he hailed a cab. He waved once and then I turned back into McBell's for a final drink, to think out alone what had happened.
"Another Scotch, Mr. Greene?"
I stared through the cigarette smoke at Michel-quiet, pleasant Michel with the strong face, large mustache and slim body. Always gracious he was to me, making McBell's worth the visit.
"Yes, Michel. Double it up this time."
"Yes, sir."
As I watched him move off through the tables towards the bar I took the time to reflect on the hour before. So it was over. And some of the better values of my personality I discovered had not been totally corrupted through association. I more than anyone was conscious of Christine's affect on me, my life and my outlook.
Her mission in life was to bronze the balls of every man she met - cast them and place each pair on a shelf along with dozens of others. And I was well aware of the fact that there was a spot reserved for me, probably the card had already been inscribed; "CHRISTOPHER-who thought he was a SUPERSTUD."
I involuntarily reached down between my legs to grip my balls. They're still there, fat lady. And that's just where they'll stay.
"Just across the room and downstairs, sir."
I looked up to see Michel's twinkling eyes as he contemplated my hold on my genitals. I laughed then and he joined in.
"No, Michel. Just checking."
He deposited the drink and turned to move off, bumping into someone as he did.
"Alexander! Welcome! Aren't you lost in the Village?"
I glanced over Michel's shoulder to see if the person he was addressing was in actuality one of my monsters - the conceited untalented one. It was!
"Mr. Greene! Hey, I didn't know you ever came here!"
"Occasionally, Alexander."
He gestured to Michel and dropped into the seat Jerry had recently vacated.
"I'm supposed to meet friends here. Y'know Melvin? Melvin Newton?"
"Yes, I know. He left over an hour ago."
"Shit! Now where the fuck do you suppose that faggot went?"
I looked at his handsome profile as he glanced around the room. No doubt about it, Alex, old boy, you're a winner! His face was perfectly chiseled, with curling hair probably sprayed just right to give him the Greek boy look.
He was wearing a sheepskin flight jacket which made him appear more masculine than he actually was. Play the role, baby.
Michel delivered the drink to him. He nervously lit a cigarette and took a big gulp of it. He avoided my stare, casting his eyes all over the pub obviously quite annoyed over being stood up. "What the hell are you running around with Newton for? He's bad news."
"I know. But, he's somehow been able to get a few jobs for me - commericals, that shit. And even though I can't stand him, I have to be nice. You know the routine."
Yes, baby. I know it - well.
"Anyway. Fuck him! Who needs it?"
You do, and you know it.
"What are you doing in the Village, Mr. Greene? Not your usual hangout, is it?"
"No. I had dinner - with a friend."
His striking eyes lit up, flashing at me as he prepared to shock me.
"Boy or girl?"
I ignored the question, blowing smoke into his face, making him squint. He laughed.
"Okay, sir! Your business."
We were quite a moment.
"Hey, Mr. Green. Why the hell don't you like me? I know you don't."
"How do you know?"
"Just by the way you handle me in class. What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing."
"Then why?"
"You're too pretty."
His mouth fell open a moment and then he grinned, breaking into a peal of laughter.
"That's cool!"
I was beginning to like him a little better.
"You don't do so bad yourself, teach."
I ignored that, finishing my Scotch and holding it out to Michel as he swept by.
"Anyway, if you feel I don't like you, why do you stay in the class?"
He smirked.
"Guess."
"Sorry. I'm lousy at guessing games."
He stopped smirking and got serious for a moment.
"I like you. I like the way you teach. And I respect you. I know you think I don't have a bit of talent. Maybe I don't. But I'm learning things from you and I want to continue. Is that so bad?"
The Scotch was beginning to hit me. The room was very stuffy and he seemed to sway slightly before my eyes.
"Okay, I accept that. And right now I'm learning a couple of things from you."
"Good."
He smiled, looking at me closely.
"You okay, Mr. Greene?"
"A little drunk, I guess. Nothing serious."
"You don't look like the type who would get drunk. I mean, even if you did you'd keep your cool."
"Don't count on it."
Michel returned with the new scotch.
"Thank you, Michel. One for my friend here."
Alexander continued to watch me as Michel took his glass.
"You gonna get home okay?"
"Sure! Why not?"
"When you're ready, I'll get you a cab."
I tried to focus on him. With determination I finally succeeded. Everything cleared then and I would wait for the next wave to hit me.
"What are you going to do?"
"After here? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll hit a couple of the bars. I'm kinda horny tonight."
He didn't look at me when he said that.
"Me too."
His eyes turned to me slowly as if trying to fathom what I meant - or if I meant anything in particular.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Maybe I'll go to those bars with you."
His eyes shot open and then he laughed again.
"You? Forget it! That's not your scene!"
"How do you know?"
"Actresses have big mouths, especially when they get the big ones. And you're one of the biggest. I mean... I mean, one of the prize catches."
I smiled dourly.
"Really? Which one talked?"
"A gentleman never mentions a lady's name in a drinking establishment."
His old-world accent and manner were ludicrous - not only due to my tipsy state but mainly because he was such a terrible actor.
"Oh, fuck!"
"They all did!"
And with that, we both laughed. After kicking it around a bit we both sobered a little.
"No shit. How about taking me to one of those bars?"
He stared at me.
"You're putting me on."
"No, scout's honor."
"But why?"
"Curiosity. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet a cute little kid who's just dying to have me... er... I was going to say something dirty so I'll clean it up a bit and say - make love to him."
He was completely serious now, looking down at the table.
"Mr. Greene... "
"Chris!"
"Er... Chris... that's not your bag."
"Would it bother you if it was?"
"No. I mean, it wouldn't make any difference. But you're kinda high now and I wouldn't want to... "
"Don't worry about it. I'm over twenty-one. Michel!"
Alexander was staring at me closely, wondering what I would do next. Michel came, we got the bill, I paid him and we left.
"All right, which way?"
We were standing in front of McBell's, snow hitting us in the face as I waited for him to point the way.
"Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. Let's go!"
"Okay."
He grabbed my arm and steered me up the street around the corner. I was dimly conscious of the strength of the boy as his fingers dug into my bicep, leading me up dark streets, the snow whipping against our clothes as we plodded toward an unknown destination.
He took me to two places. I think the names were Danny's and the Stud - the last-named place striking me as hilarious. Considering the pretty boys and the hungry looks we received from a line-up of slim-hipped young men, the name was a fantastic incongruity. There wasn't a real stud in the whole place!
I can't remember too much about either place except that they were terribly depressing. I had heard about such places of course but when I actually stood in them, I couldn't believe it. I looked around at the faces, most of them quite young and attractive, wondering just why they were doing this. Of course, it was a very bad night out and perhaps this was a good meeting place, somewhere to keep warm, drink cheap beer and converse with interesting people.
The only thing is that they seemed to be underdressed, with T-shirts and tight-fitting Levi's, neither one of which appeared to be heavy enough or warm enough on such a night. But of course their bodies were well exposed and I assumed that's what they wanted. Also they didn't appear to do much talking. They seemed to all be staring at the front door. As I waited for Alexander to get two beers for us, I watched the front door too. Whatever was coming through, it was due at any moment by the expectant look on their faces and the hush which settled over them each time the door was pushed open and someone entered.
However, we were there perhaps one hour and no one of importance ever came in. So it must be something else. But what? I never did find out.
"I don't know why I do it. That fucking joint brings me down, too. But when you stop to think about it, what else is there to do?
"Are you asking for an answer or is that merely an observation?"
He laughed and we threw snowballs at each other as we ran down the street.
"I know where we'll go, Chris! Follow me! You'll flip!"
So we raced through the streets, glorying in the cold, the snow and the warmth of our bodies. I felt like sixteen again and I didn't give a shit who saw me. Fuck 'em all! One and all!
We seemed to be going toward the river because I was sure I could see lights from the docks. But I decided to let him lead the way, thrills shooting through my body at the danger of such an excursion. At least it appeared dangerous to me. Why would anyone want to go out at this time of night through such dark forbidding streets - for a beer? I must have missed something.
When we crossed the street I made out the name of our next rendezvous through the driving snow. I burst out with a guffaw, standing in the middle of the street, pointing at it as I laughed.
Alexander was laughing too, knowing what caused my reaction.
CHRISTOPHER'S END!
That was the name of it! Ridiculous! For a moment, I thought it was a joke, a vision, a mirage! My name! In bold letters! And projecting such a note of doom! I could feel the goose pimples pricking up on my flesh - not from the cold either. This was some kind of outrageous practical joke! It had to be!
I sobered immediately but my mouth stayed open as I gawked at it.
"Mr. Greene! Chris, come on! Get out of the middle of the street!"
I moved slowly, leadenly forward, my eyes never leaving that legend, that forecast. The hackles were rising up along the back of my neck. I wanted to turn and run.
Then I saw Alexander's smiling face through the snow, his golden curled hair white and glistening, I came back to earth, suddenly, abruptly, sharply.
"You're a wise motherfucker, aren't you?"
The smile vanished. He stared at me with astonishment.
"But, Chris! Mr. Greene! I thought you'd... "
"It ain't funny, man!"
He moved closer to me.
"You all right, Mr. Greene?"
I stared at him with disgust. My moment of panic had passed but I was now annoyed and ready to punch him right in the fucking mouth.
"All right, you've had your joke. Now what?"
"No joke, Mr. Green. This is a... a bar. It's been here for years. I wanted to take you in to... " I looked up at the name again, finally allowing it to focus through the slashes of white. Stupid ass! Of course it's the name! Of course he meant no harm! It's just a... coincidence. That's all.
I reached out to knock the snow off his head.
"Lead on, McDuff!"
He recoiled at my touch but then relaxed when he saw me smiling. He pulled open the door and we went in, snow sweeping in behind us.
As I tried to penetrate the depths of that murky place, Alexander explained to me that we were on Christopher Street and this was the end of the block - the very end of the street. Thus: Christopher's End. Too pat, too logical, too cute!
A high-pitched, screeching voice was shattering my nerves.
"Mary! Look at the snow! This little queen will melt! Gawd! Where is Omar Sharif to take me away from all this? Doctor Zhivagoooooo!"
I would have laughed but I though whoever it was speaking would suddenly reveal themselves to be part of a play or whatever. It was certainly dark enough in there to be some sort of theatre. I discovered it was merely the hat-check... er... girl? Boy? Whatever.
We felt our way around a corner of the room and there it was! This must be the place Christine was talking about - 'way back sometime.
In the middle of the floor up on some kind of platform which resembled a large circular drum was a totally nude boy. Rock music was deafeningly assaulting the onlookers as the young kid threw his graceful body into all kinds of contortions in rhythm to that unidentifiable musical contradiction.
Again I found myself standing motionless, my mouth open, gaping at the boy and at the gathering around the room just beyond the circle of light, their eyes flickering like pinpoints of steel. The boy was beautiful, perfectly proportioned and with a face like an angel. His eyes were closed, his mouth pursed as if with lust, his body responding to his sensuality. For a moment I thought it could have been Bud he was so delicate. But this boy was blond, his Greek-boy haircut ideal for his present occupation.
"This way, Chris."
Alexander again gripped my arm, and led me across the floor within a few feet of the dancer, then out of the light to a table thrust against the wall. A sinuous waiter snaked out of nowhere, thrust his pelvis at us and demanded to know what was our pleasure. His heavy-lidded eyes suggested he was not speaking of alcohol but we both ignored it as we ordered drinks.
"How do you like it, Chris?"
I turned to see Alexander's mocking smile close to my face.
"Incredible! But you knew that would be my reaction, didn't you? That's why you brought me here."
"I suppose so."
I looked around the shabby room. An overwhelming feeling of revulsion gripped my insides. But it wasn't for Alexander, Bud or this scene in particular. It was the necessity for it which appalled me. The need to hide away in this dark room with urine-smelling, beer-smelling, sweat-smelling bodies. The fear they all must have that they could get busted at any minute. The loneliness which drives them out into a stormy night and into a place like this to watch a beautiful boy display himself before them to act out their fantasies.
I looked back at Alexander and at that moment, I loved him. I felt what I had been describing to Jeff and Michelle. I had seen him only as a vain, self-centered boy who had used his body to buy his way in the world. I did not pity him for that nor did I look upon him with any sort of repugnance. For the first tune perhaps I understood it - him and this whole scene. And in this absurd place he was suddenly vindicated and I was the one who needed expiation.
"What am I doing here? What are we doing here?"
He turned surprised eyes to me.
"Want to leave?"
I started to answer but Tinker Bell was back. (No joke! I had heard him called that by several customers demanding service.) "Two lousy drinks for two gorgeous males. I wish I could say there were on me but there's only one thing that I want on me. Takers, anyone?"
His aging but still pretty face focussed on mine. I shook my head slowly.
"Oh, well, that's show biz. A-tisket, a-tasket, what a lovely basket!"
He was looking directly at my crotch as he swept up the bills I had placed on the table. I waved him to keep the change. "May the Good Fairy bless you! That is, if there is one!"
With a squealing laugh, he flew off to make a pass at someone else. We were left to watch the boy as he slowed down to a stop in response to the diminishing music. He stood there looking around, rubbing his small hand across his buttocks, his fingers lingering there as he held the eyes of a paunchy onlooker. He suddenly sighed and jumped off the drum. He walked to his pants which were thrown over a chair, slipping into them. As he did, the music came on again and he was quickly replaced by another youngster, equally as beautiful, but fully dressed.
He started a slow strip to the music, shucking all his clothes by the time the music was nearing its climax. I observed that he was perhaps even more attractive than his predecessor.
"Have you ever done that, Alex?"
He laughed softly close to my shoulder..
"Not on your life. I may be a whore but for only one at a time. And when I strip, it's for hard cash.
I turned to look at him.
"Are you... a whore?"
"I guess so. That's what they tell me."
"Are you good?"
His eyes met mine and held.
"Very good."
"That's the only way to be."
"You'd better believe it."
He leaned closer to me.
"I've heard you're pretty good too."
"I do my best."
His eyes did not flicker, nor did mine.
"I'd like to find out for myself - sometime."
We were close enough now to kiss but I wasn't quite that free.
"Why not right now?"
In the dim light, I was astonished to see that he was blushing! His eyes fell a little and he backed away.
"Mr. Greene, I... "
"Not interested?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
He grabbed his drink but did not raise it to his mouth. His profile was sharply outlined in the garish light from the jukebox.
"I'm ready."
I hesitated a moment.
"You're not sure, are you?"
He still did not look at me as he spoke. I started to turn away when he suddenly stood up next to the table, glass in hand, his mouth set tightly.
I looked him up and down - the extremely tight-fitting bells, suede-leather which outlined every curve of his body; the formfit body shirt, deep blue and soft; the scarf knitted firmly around his strong neck; his exotically handsome face with full lips and too-too pretty eyes.
I pushed myself up to grab the drink from him, tossing it off with one gulp.
"I'm sure."
He reached for my drink and finished it quickly. "Well, so am I."
I stared up at the mirrored ceiling, my reflection somewhat blurred by too much alcohol. My nude body was stretched out across an enormous circular bed plainly outstanding against black satin sheets. Everything in his apartment was black or white - furniture, draperies, rugs, walls, I was laughing - laughing with the secret knowledge that his pad was what everyone thought my pad should be. Or was!
Quite the place! A showplace actually. I couldn't imagine living in it. Fucking in it, yes, but no living. He did and apparently he was proud of it. We spent the first half-hour talking about the apartment over a Scotch. And then he dispensed with further preliminaries and showed me to the bedroom, helping me to disrobe. He was now in the bathroom - doing whatever. And I was left to contemplate the utter absurdity of my being there in the first place.
"Look around! You can see yourself from all angles! Groovy, huh?"
Alexander. Standing in the doorway, completely naked, his long ominous-looking cock standing straight out, his total lack of affectation plainly evident as he watched me, a half-smile playing across his handsome face.
"I not only like to know where I'm going, I also want to know where I've been. Gives you the impression of fucking half a dozen people at the same time. Wild!"
He moved to the bed and dropped onto it lightly without touching me. He was still smoking and even though he was obviously excited, he was taking his time about it.
If he was disappointed that I did not have an erection, he didn't show it. At that moment, I wasn't sure whether I even could get it up before the night was over. Anyway, I'd let him worry about that.
"Mr. Greene, I don't know how much of this you've done and I have a feeling you're not going to tell me. So I guess I'd just better take my chances and start at the beginning."
He snuffed out the cigarette and lay back on the bed so that his head was across my thigh. His hot breath blew against my leg as his hand touched my hip gently. I tensed a little but did not look at him as he explored me-my body.
"Just what I thought, Mr. Greene. All those stories weren't make-believe. You are something else. Why do you hide all this under so many clothes? Let it all hang out!"
Then I felt his hand move across and lightly finger the pubic hair near my balls. I could feel myself stirring. So! I could get excited! Good! At least it won't be a total loss.
"My, Mr. Greene! That's a nice one!"
I felt it. The hot, wet, demanding lips as they closed over the head of my cock and played with it, teasing it into hardness. At first I didn't respond, but after a few minutes of that, I had little choice. I grew hard and I could feel it stretching out, filling his mouth.
"Mmmmm!"
He pulled his lips away and kissed the sides and tip.
"Mr. Greene! That is one beautiful cock! And I'm just the whore who can take care of it."
"Hey, knock that off!"
"Whatsamatta, Mr. Greene? Don't like to hear words like those?"
"I don't like you calling yourself that."
"I see."
We were both quiet as he tried to figure that one out.
He moved up along my body until we were lying close together, our bodies touching, our cocks touching, our lips touching. Kissing him did not particularly inflame me. He was not Bud - he was not soft and gentle, not feminine, not passive. He was strong, biting, his mouth covering mine with wet, sticky suction as he appeared to want to devour me. It turned me off.
I twisted my head away, pulling my mouth from his.
"Don't do that!"
He laughed, a little bitterly I thought.
"Okay, teach. Whatever you say."
Then he was all over me-biting, sucking, running his tongue up and down my chest, biting hard on my nipples, then dropping the tip of his tongue into my navel, then running it down until it touched the sides of my cock again. This was turning me on for sure and my body started to roll and pitch on those slippery sheets.
"That's it, teach! Give in to it! It's a ball that way!"
He was touching me everywhere, gripping the cheeks of my ass as he sank his mouth over my cock, trying to insert a finger into my anus. He stopped that when I cried out and pulled away in anger. He chuckled again and then whipped his head around to take my balls into his mouth, rolling them between his teeth. That was driving me crazy. I thrashed on the bed with my cock flailing the air near his nose. I thought I would come at any minute. But I didn't.
He suddenly grabbed one of my arms and pulled it towards his body. He took my hand then and wrapped it around his cock. I was amazed at the girth of that weapon. This kid was built!
"Ever suck a cock like that, Mr. Greene?"
I did not answer, keeping my hand limp and unresponding.
"No, I guess you never sucked a cock any size. Right? It's all right. I don't dig that too much anyway unless it's a tired old auntie faggot who can't do anything else - especially without any teeth! Then, if the price is right, they can suck all night long if they want. And they usually want!"
He was laughing now, throwing himself into the session with great freedom and joy. I responded to this, tightening my fingers, causing him to quiver and draw in his breath sharply.
"Hey, wow! Mr. Greene, that's like wow!"
I held it firmly, not moving just holding him as he went back to sucking my cock with such fantastic fury that I thought I'd shoot all over those unbelievable black satin sheets. We were skidding on them, causing friction which prickled at my backside as he rolled me over on the bed, sucking at me from all directions.
He pulled away a minute to take a breath and shout at me.
"Hey, Mr. Greene! Have you taken a look around yet? Get a load of the show!"
Then he was on my cock again, beating the hell out of it with his strong mouth, his tongue. In a wave of almost nauseous dizziness, I glanced around at the mirrors - on all four walls and ceiling. He was right! There were dozens of images thrashing on black stain sheets - one body being attacked by another on each image. The scene was wild, exciting and I found myself trying to find different positions in order to change the pictures - each time giving me a stronger urge to come and ejaculate all over those reflections.
He pulled away from my itching, burning cock and threw himself down next to me.
"Look up at the mirror, teach."
I turned to the ceiling mirrors and stared at our bodies. "How's that? Like that bod? Groovy ass, huh? Well, it's all yours tonight. Use it any way you like, man. The rougher the better, baby."
I stared at his body, marveling at it as he moved sensuously on the bed, his full rounded buttocks tensing, contracting and then relaxing as he tried to entice me to even more passionate heights.
"Shove it in, teach, I want that fat, delicious cock of yours as far up as you can get it. And then batter the hell out of it - blast away at those buns, lover. Rip them up with your beautiful pile-driver. I don't want to be able to sit down for a week after you leave here."
I was just drunk enough and aroused enough to have this sort of talk excite me even further. And he must have known it. For he kept up a running patter of brutal imagery until I couldn't stand it. I twisted over on top of him and positioned my turgid prick at his entrance.
His body was radiantly symmetrical - slim, graceful, muscular, sleek - all the ingredients for great stimulation. His ass was smooth and hairless, two muscular buttock cheeks staring up at me, waiting for my cock to part them, bring them together again as I sank inside.
He was moaning and thrashing on the bed so it took a little concentration for me to find the spot. Apparently he didn't want to use anything to help the entry so I plunged forward. Ah! But that was what he was doing in the John it appeared. My fiery cock slipped into him with the slightest effort. He was well-greased with a lubricant which made the penetration so smooth that I felt as though I were sliding into a channel lined with whipped cream.
He grunted, pulling up towards the head of the bed to escape the pain but I held on and forced myself entirely into his body. He cried out then and reached back to grip my hips with his powerful hands. But he did not push me away, just held me securely for a moment or two before he relaxed.
"Wow! Mr. Greene, you don't waste any time, do you? That cock of yours feels like the Washington Monument. Hold it, Baby! This sure as shit isn't my first time, but every time feels like the first-when you enjoy it like I intend to. Now in a minute, baby, start slamming away. I love it hard. Real hard!"
I relaxed on his hips, my hands pressed into the black satin sheets, my arms locked straight up, my body angled away from him. I glanced to the right to see my reflection in the mirror. It was a great sight! My body was warmly reflected in the pink-tinted mirror as it rested between his outflung thighs. I could see my hips pressed into the crevice between his buttocks and the sight gave me another thrill.
I eased back and then pushed in slowly. Wow! It was nice! Real nice! Now I could speculate on the difference between this boy's ass, Bud's ass and the dozens of cunts I had ploughed into during my short life. And believe me, there IS a difference! There is something natural about a cunt, something about it which makes you know that you belong there, something conforming and secure, something perfectly shaped and contoured to accept you. Not as tight as a boy's rear, granted, but superbly right.
Now, a boy's ass is something else again. I knew my cock wasn't made for it - and for that very reason it felt out of sight, as the saying goes. His anus muscles were so frigging tight that my cock felt strangled. Even though I knew he wasn't squeezing me, the pressures around my shaft were almost unbearably stimulating. It was everything I could do to keep from ejaculating right then and there. But I knew it would be over for me - at least for the night - if I did. So I held on and waited.
His hips started undulating against me and the feeling was again intoxicatingly voluptuous. I withdrew again and thrust into him. He moaned but with pleasure this time and pushed back into me.- "That's it, teach. Oh, wow! Is that ever it! Just keep that up, just like that and then ride it, baby! Ride it for all you're worth!"
I started to pick up the tempo, pulling back and ramming into his body, noticing when I looked down his back that he was contracting his ass muscles, closing around my cock even harder. I slammed into him and then pulled almost all the way out until just my cock-head was still inside him. Then with a groan I dropped into him feeling his ass open up to me, the penetration becoming easier, my cock going even further into his bowels.
"Now go to it, baby! Fuck away! Ride it, you motherfucker! Ride it!"
He was bouncing up and down on the bed with wild abandon and in my own delirium I began to pound and batter at his backside with fury, with cruel twisting jabs. I reached down to clasp his hips, pulling them back to me, my cock plowing a deeper tunnel into him.
"Oh, God! Oh, my God! Wowee! What a beautiful fucker you are!"
Suddenly I ripped out of him and pulling back I reached for him and flipped him over on his back. Without a word from me, his legs whipped up and over my shoulders, his heels digging into my back, pulling me towards him.
My cock flew inside him without the slightest hesitation and sank to his very depths. He groaned out, his whole body shaking with spasms of desire as he pushed up into me. He drew his legs back over my shoulders then and placed his knees at my collar bone, his toes digging into my stomach. I grabbed his hips and we both started fucking together. The spring action was incredible, a position I would never have thought of. This kid was sensational!
"Oh, teach! Give me your lovely cock! Fuck me, beautiful big-cocked superstud! Shoot into me, baby! Give it all to me! Drop your load, honey! Oh, my God! What a fuck!"
His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling. There was a delighted smile on his face as he watched us fuck on the bed, our movements perfectly synchronized as I felt the orgasm building up in me, charging to the head of my prick, bursting out and shooting into him - white-hot and blasting! My ass muscles tightened and I pressed as deeply into the boy as I could, feeling even my balls disappear as I shot again and again. Oh, what a sweet fuck he was!
He was screaming, thrashing beneath me, his legs now thrown high and waving in the air above my shoulders, his hands beating his own cock with fury, his head twisting from side to side, the spittle running out of his mouth and wetting the black satin sheets.
Then he came too - shooting all over his chest and chin, the white, milky substance making a puddle on his abdomen as I felt the burning tingle which signaled I was empty.
We both took showers and then we slept.
In the middle of the morning, I felt him down at my waist his hands caressing my cock to life again. I almost made a move to stop him but then I relaxed and let it happen. I came again, painfully as he drew on me, his amazingly powerful jaws draining all the juices from my body. I didn't think I could do it, but it was electrifying. My backbone felt like wet spaghetti as I returned to sleep again.
In the middle of the day he was busy trying to prove how great he really was. My body was lethargic, all my muscles relaxed and spread out like a cat. When he started to maul me I hardly noticed. He tried everything, including attempting to get me to suck his cock which almost caused a fist fight right there on that turntable of passion. I suppose he felt it would be some kind of triumph - to have me suck him off. Well, baby, it would be a miracle - nothing less!
In the end, I fucked him again. This time he remained face down and I was able to use him in any manner I wanted. It was good - it was great, goddammit!
But something was indeed missing.
As I rode home in the cab that evening, I thought about it. I thought about Bud - his gentleness, his beauty, his need. His sex was predicated on love; therefore, it was good, and I felt the need to return it. It was what they all talked about, so I would remember it. I would remember him.
I would remember Alexander too. Perhaps with pity now. Sex was sex to him - lust, passion for passion sake. Perhaps that's okay too. God knows I'd done it enough times with only that emotion in play.
Then why did I remember Bud with more tenderness?
He had taught me something I would not soon forget.
In a life full of events, the next few weeks were uneventful. And that pleased me. I had had enough trauma during the past several weeks to last me for a long time to come. I went to my class, I conducted the sessions and I did my work as well as could be expected. But I avoided any confrontations.
Christine finally confessed all, as if it mattered. She lavished gifts and money on Don whom I assumed would be her plaything for at least a week. Tommy understood and took up an affair with one of my students, a pretty young girl who was ineffectual as an actress but utterly devoted to him.
Jerry and I became fast friends, our meeting never mentioned. He told me that he had received a phone call from Eric every day and that he was returning. The boy's work improved right after that and he smiled contentedly. I was happy for him.
Even Alexander's work improved. We did not pursue our relationship, nor did he seem to expect me to. I started to let up on my criticism of him a little and as a result he showed more interest. I guess it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Bud was doing fine in class also, our unspoken affection for each other mellowing with time. He had left his friend and was now living with someone else who, he hastened to assure me, was strictly a roommate. Too bad. It would have been better if he had taken up with another lover.
I balled Roz again. It was good but not as violent as the first session. We avoided hitting each other and it worked out fine. But I had decided after the first encounter that I didn't want to make a practice of screwing her. I was tired of games.
And I called Ellen again.
She came to my apartment and spent a week end with me. Her husband went out of town for Thanksgiving to visit his family and she did not want to go, so we spent it together. I took her to dinner at Le Pavilion and then we came back to the pad and immediately got into bed and stayed there for almost four days. It was fantastic.
Her body was a feast in itself. We went the whole route, touching, tasting, using every curve and muscle on each other until we were exhausted. Then we would get up, eat a turkey leg, have a drink or two, change the records on the stereo, climb back into bed and fuck some more.
Twice during the week end I let her have her way, her new way in sex. She went down on me and did a job which left me gasping. She blew me until I thought my backbone would, dissolve. And when I came, she took all of it. I looked down at her to see her closed eyes, a smile of delight on her face after she had drained me. Then she stretched out her mouth around my cock again and cupping my balls, would squeeze and roll them, bringing forth another spurt of come. I was in a paroxysm of passion, shaking and tingling with the release, throwing myself back onto the bed with a cry.
After relaxing a moment or two, I reached down for her drawing her up across my chest.
"Christ, Ellen! You're driving me out of my mind!"
I held her and fondled one luscious ripe tit with my hand.
"Oh, God! What a waste! There's much to much of you, you gorgeous broad. You're soft, sexy and loaded with energy. Honey, you need this. You need me. I want to shoot into you again and again!"
"That's what I want too, Chris! And we will! We've got days yet. We'll do everything we want."
I bit her on the neck, the shoulder, the breast. I was getting excited and my cock shot out against her.
"Chris! You're amazing! You mean you can again?"
"How many times has it been? Are you counting? I'm not. But I'll bet it's at least six times so far and we've only begun to fight! Besides, you haven't come for at least an hour. Let's hop to it, baby!"
I pushed her away from me and slid down her belly, my tongue sucking on her tits, then down to her stomach, her navel, then to the softly curling pubic hairs, until my nose was nestled in her crotch. I could smell the sex there - the sweaty, sweet, heavy aroma of her sex and mine. I kissed and tongued that crevice, noticing the shivers which shot through her. I bit lower down her thighs until I reached the knee. Goose pimples were coming up all over her, as I worked back up until I was nestled once more between those wondrous breasts. She rolled beneath me, trying to pull me higher so that my cock could find her. I let her do it until I was planted firmly on her body, my cock at the entrance of her cunt.
I held back then and waited. She moaned and cursed me, opening her legs wider, pressing up against me, her hands forcing themselves between our bodies until she grasped my cock and positioned, it against the opening. Then she rammed up to me and it sank into her. It was easier this time as she relaxed and took all of me.
I let it go forward until it stopped, my balls tight to the opening. She had me now, completely, totally and I started a circular motion while biting her ear, breathing hotly into it. She thrashed from side to side, trying to escape my mouth. I pursued her and drove her wild with frenzy. Her hips were uncontrolled now, pushing into me, her cunt opening wider until I thought I might lose myself in her.
But this fooling around was no good. I wanted the real action. So I raised up away from her, pulling her all the way up on the bed so that my cock eased out. Then I drove into her again, deep into her paining her. She cried out, pushing against my chest, but I pulled out again and again, slamming into her with brisk hip actions.
"Chris! You're hurting me! Chris! God, oh God!"
"You love it! Don't you? Say it! You love it!"
"YES! I love it! Oh God, I love it! Fuck me, Chris!"
I reached down to her hips and pulled her to me. I forced her legs further apart, pistoning in and out, in and out with wild moves and gyrations. We were both gasping for breath, my cock needing this friction, craving this punishment. We shouted at each other, two nameless creatures with their world centered on cock and cunt and the release they both ached for. I could feel it rising now and her moans were synchronized with my driving, sledge-hammer blows into her body. My cock was not flesh and blood, it was steel and it was fulfilling its need. Her cunt was the receptacle. I slammed into it with unbridled fury. She was not crying now, but screaming a long drawn-out wail of agony.
AND WE CAME!! WOW!!! DID WE COMMMMEEEE!!!!
I could feel the hot juices hitting each other deep within her - or at least I imagined I could. I was burning with the ejaculation and with the infinite pain on the most sensitive organ of my body. I was sure that my cock was rubbed raw and bleeding. The searing, stinging pain was unbearable. I didn't want to think about what my glorious weapon looked like as I bit into her neck and then covered her mouth with my own. We shuddered and shook, the goose flesh on both our bodies cold and clammy as we slowed down the fucking movements. We finally came to a blissful stop. We lay there, welded together, sighing with release. EPILOGUE SHE LOOKED LIKE SANTA Claus. Her immense belly was covered with red velvet, white fur at the neck and around the large full sleeves. She had on her platinum wig and her face could drive Elizabeth Arden out of the business. She had every imaginable shade of mascara over her eyes and the longest lashes I had ever seen.
"Well?"
She stood poised in the center of the office, her red satin slippers sinking into the deep rug, her bejeweled fingers touching at herself as she waited for my reaction. I tried to be light but it was hard as hell to take this seriously.
"Don't tell me! Let me guess! You're going as... as Mrs. Claus!"
She guffawed, throwing her head back, almost losing the wig. Her mountainous belly sloshed from side to side and the velvet did its goddamdest to hold itself together.
"Cunt! But you're not far from the truth!"
She was, of course, eating again. Cookies this time. The office was stacked with gifts, wrapping paper and ribbons. She was hard at work wrapping. Her bribes for affection.
She was in a frivolous holiday mood. Although the Christian holiday was not her own, she was a good enough sport to enter into the festivities, if only to give her the chance to have another ball or two. She was drinking champagne, the bottle of Mums sitting on the desk. Don was pouring, looking very handsome in a tuxedo and blue formal shirt with ruffles up and down the front and at the wrists. The were impressive-looking, if nothing else.
"I see you're ready."
She looked at me, at my suitcase and flight bag.
I was indeed ready - for Puerto Rico, Luquillo Beach and maybe St. Thomas if I felt in the mood. I had decided to spend the week between Christmas and New Year's out of town in a tropical climate away from the hectic pace of New York. For some strange reason, Christine was all for it. Perhaps it was Don and her total lack of interest in anything to do with the studio. Anyway, she gave me a tremendous bonus and even bought my plane ticket! Was she trying to tell me something?
Don't look a gift horse... So I was going. And I was relieved. My plane would leave in three hours and I was on my way to the airport. I decided to stop by the studio for a good-bye. And I met the new swinging duo ready to do the town on Christmas Eve.
"Champagne, Chris?"
He held out a glass to me and I took it, setting my suitcase just outside the door.
"To Puerto Rico!"
She raised her glass but I delayed.
"No, dear. Let's toast this past year and the one coming up. I will be out of town when the big moment arrives so let's do it now. Happy New Year!"
She smiled happily with a tear in her eye. On all holidays, no matter what, Christine forgave all and cried a little.
"Happy New Year, Chris! And thanks for a great year!"
She came to me, giving me a sloppy kiss which I would have to wipe off before catching the cab. She hugged me then and cried a little more. Leave it to Christine to get sentimental over the simplest things and to coldly ignore the big ones.
I tossed off the champagne. Don held out the bottle and poured another for me as we all laughed and entered into bitchy small talk.
"Oh, my God! I forgot, Chris! There's someone waiting here to see you. One of your students. That new girl, what's her name?"
I couldn't think who she meant for a moment.
"Who, Christine?"
"Oh, shit, what's her name? Why can't I ever remember anyone's name?"
Arlene? Here? Why?
"Is it Arlene?"
"That's it! That strange one with that awful name! She's in Studio A. Been waiting for about two hours, I guess. She's a weird one.".
I finished the drink and put the glass on the desk. I excused myself and went to Studio A. She was standing there with her usual attire, maxi-length dress, suede vest and midi-coat, floppy hat and those incredible glasses.
"Hi, Mr. Greene! Merry Christmas!"
"Arlene. And the same to you."
I looked at her closely.
"What's the matter? You wanted to see me?"
She turned away from me then and went to the piano, running her fingers up and down the keys silently.
"Yes."
She kept her head down.
"You're coming back, aren't you?"
What a strange question! Of course I'm coming back.
"Yes."
"Oh! That's great. I was afraid that you might... " I pulled out my cigarettes and lit one. I waited.
"Mr. Greene. I'm frightened."
I watched her. She was shaking now, her shoulders slumped over, the suede bag falling down to the floor next to her feet. The hat looked even more droopy than before, if that was possible.
"Of what, Arlene?"
"Of... being alone."
She sniffed and stopped the action with her fingers. But, she kept her eyes averted.
"I have... no one. I mean... I will be alone for Christmas and for New Year's too."
So? I will be alone too, honey. But what to say to her?
"Is that so important?"
"Yes. You see, I was raised in an orphan's home and I never had a Christmas with someone else. I mean, I've always been with kids I knew, never with family. I never had any."
So, what the hell do you want from me? I was beginning to get a little uptight with this whole thing.
"Do you understand, Mr. Greene?"
"Yes, Arlene. But I don't see how I can help you."
She turned to me then, taking off her glasses, her eyes lighting up and strangely beautiful. She bit her lip, hesitating before she said anything.
"Can I go with you? To Puerto Rico?"
I almost choked on the cigarette. As it was, it took me a few minutes to cough up the smoke which had gone the wrong way.
"What? Are you out of your mind? What...?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Greene! I'm sorry!"
"Oh, shut up!"
I was still trying to get my breath. What the fuck was the matter with this kid, anyway, crazy or something? As if I didn't have enough trouble.
"Now, let's make some sense. What the hell are you talking about, can you come with me?"
"I mean, take me with you for the holidays? I won't be any trouble and you would have someone with you and I would too. It would be perfect. Neither one of us would be alone."
She stared at me with those eyes, her breath coming quickly, her hands fluttering around her. I couldn't believe I was hearing this.
"It's out of the question! Forget it!"
I stopped a moment and looked away from her.
"Besides, what makes you think I'm going to be alone?"
She looked down then.
"I know. I've heard about you from some of the other kids. You're never alone."
She cleared her throat.
"And I'm not surprised. But it would be all right. I mean, I will be to you what they... would. Anything you want."
I stared at her. She was offering herself to me. For what? For Christmas? For my stocking? The whole thing was grotesque.
"Arlene. I'm sorry you're going to be alone for the holidays. I wish I could do something about it. I can't. And, that's that. As for going with me, just forget it. It wouldn't work."
I looked her up and down.
"You're a child. I'm almost twice your age. What do you want with me?"
"I love you, Mr. Greene! I have for a long time now."
Oh, Christ! Another one!
"A long time? What? A month?"
"No! I've seen you for almost a year. I used to walk by this studio every day, I knew just when you went to lunch, when you left for the evening, when you had coffee, when your class started, when they ended, all your affairs."
I stared at her aghast! All my affairs?
"You mean you followed me to my apartment too?"
She nodded silently.
"How could you? I take a cab from here every night."
"I know. But I found out where you lived. And I used to sit on the stoop across the street for hours, waiting for you."
Christine was right. This one was a real weirdo.
"Arlene, I don't believe you."
"I can prove it."
"Forget it."
Now, I was really annoyed. A fucking spy! The hackles rose up on the back of my neck when I contemplated what she had told me.
"That's sick, Arlene. Don't you know that?"
"I guess so. But I love you and I wanted to see you and be near you whenever I could. I can't help it."
As I watched her, my heart suddenly went out to her. Jesus Christ! All alone in this balled-up city and with a crush on a lecherous bastard like me. It was almost funny when you think about it. Funny but kinda sad too.
"Arlene, sit down a minute."
She did, on the piano bench. She looked like a little old lady, lost, afraid and vulnerable. I stood up and paced around the room trying to decide what to say. Can you imagine? Christopher Greene, tongue-tied? Incredible!
"Arlene, I'm flattered. Very flattered indeed that you care about me. I care for you, too. You do not love me. You like me, you look up to me - whatever! But don't confuse it with love."
I stopped and continued to pace around the studio.
"I've never been in love in my life. When it happens, I'll know it. You will too. And you will not be able to say it so easily."
"I looked at her. She was watching me closely, her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling.
"I've been alone all my life. We're all alone really. Maybe that's why I teach, so that I can communicate with other people, relax some of my loneliness. Maybe that's why you study so that you can also communicate, come into contact with other lonely people. I don't know. Arlene, you're a talented girl. You have a fine potential as an actress. You'll be in love many times before you reach my age. It's good for you, it stretches you and makes you sensitive to the feelings of others. It'll improve your acting. You'll be hurt, but that's good too."
I stopped in front of her, lifting her chin so that her eyes looked into mine.
"If you must, love me, Arlene. But don't be lonely or alone in that love. Understand it for what it is. You're intelligent. You can do it."
She smiled slightly as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Mr. Greene, you just don't understand me at all, do you? Everything you say may be true. But I'm still in love with you. I will be for the rest of my life. And I'm not lonely with that. I just want to be with you. Don't you see?"
I threw up my hands in exasperation.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Take me with you!"
"Will you cut that out?"
Then, I did laugh! She's a precocious little broad.
When I turned to her, she was holding something out to me. I reached for it and saw that it was a Pan-Am ticket, to Puerto Rico! I looked closer. MY FLIGHT!
"How...?"
But I knew it was useless to ask. I returned the ticket and slapped my head in frustration. I turned away from her, pacing the floor again. Then I spun around to face her squarely. Now you will get it, sweetheart!
"Okay! If you come with me, I'll fuck you senseless! How do you like that?"
Her eyes shot open as if I had struck her. Her mouth dropped and she looked terribly pained. I thought she might faint dead away on the spot. But, it passed quickly.
"If you want that - okay!"
I stared at her.
"Have you ever...?"
"No."
It was plain, simple and direct. No. I was right. A virgin. SHIT!
She stood there, decrepit, sad, forlorn but the most determined little baggage I'd ever come across.
"If you want that from me-OKAY!"
"Stop saying that!"
"Now, can I come with you?"
What's the use? I threw up my hands and stood there. She suddenly ran to me and threw her arms around my waist. She held on tight and I could feel her full, ripe body pressed against mine. I eased out of her embrace as I felt myself responding to it and it would soon become embarrassing.
"Uh, Arlene. Take it easy."
"I love you, Mr. Greene! Love you, love you, love you! And you won't be sorry! I promise you!"
"Stop with the promises already!"
So it was done.
As I reached for the studio door, I was sure I had suddenly lost my mind. This really was not happening. It was all part of some fantastic dream. It was fantasy, meant to drive me out of my nut, my final reckoning for all my indiscretions. And as I opened the studio door, I started to laugh. I reached back for her, pulling her towards me, my arm around her waist.
She dragged a bag out of nowhere - why not? - and we stomped to the office, to giddily announce to the two stunned occupants that we were off to Puerto Rico! The two of us!
Christine almost lost her wig. And for once, she didn't have anything to say. She stood there - a fat, over-blown Santa with a fragile champagne glass in her hand, her ornate, bad-taste jewelry hanging ponderously from her limbs, her mouth agape with the smeared lipstick making her look like a drunken Santa Claus at that. Don was nonplussed. He stared but did not react. He was out of it.
I swooped down to retrieve my coat and suitcase and we were off down the stairway and out the door. We laughed all the way up to Seventh Avenue where we finally found a cab to take us to Kennedy, the driver staring at us with heavy-lidded eyes. He had seen crazy people before. This was nothing new.
So, here I am on a Pan-Am 747, lifting off from Kennedy with a hippie eighteen-year-old, plump, little girl with glasses and a maxi-dress and a midi-coat. I had not stopped laughing since leaving the studio, the picture of Christine and Don as they stared open-mouthed and silent too much to forget. She would now be convinced that I was totally out of my mind. Also, she would confirm an opinion that I would fuck anything just as long as it had an opening, a receptacle for my passion fruit.
Knowing her, she would be on the phone within minutes after we left. Everyone who was anyone, wasn't that what she said? Well, all those everyones would soon be apprised of my latest escapade. She would find it ammunition for her double-barreled big mouth for weeks to come.
I was wondering as I laughed hysterically, driving the stewardesses up the wall, just what the reaction would be from various members of the class, various "interested" members. Well, I would find out when I returned.
I suddenly felt eighteen myself. A good deal of the uptightness I had been laboring over seemed to just lift off my shoulders as we lifted off from the airport, and I had this feeling that this was going to be the best vacation I had ever had. After all, how many of them had I spent with a fourteen-carat virgin?
I turned to look at Arlene.
"Hey, kid! Did you know that you are the most gorgeous broad I have ever made it with?"
She blushed and laughed aloud - a free, high, easy, joyous sound which floated through the cabin of that jet, titillating the squealing and squalling kids, the tired businessmen, the disenchanted Puerto Ricans returning to their homeland with empty hands and empty hearts. She was beautiful, gay and honest.
Hey, there, Mr. Greene! Mr. Christopher Greene! Mr. Christopher Superstud Greene! Your big chance! You're up here now, in the sky, where you belong, floating free and easy, adrift in untold ecstasies, aloft with your maiden! You've got the virgin to do the job! Don't blow it, man! Don't screw this one up!
If they think they saw a conception-wait until they get a load of this one!
