An Idol for Others (19 page)

“Did you want the big seduction scene?”

“It’s usual, but this has a certain abrupt charm. You look so young. I thought I might intimidate you.”

He chortled. “Not remotely,” he said as he peeled off his trousers and shorts with the effect that stripping for a new audience seemed to have on him. He straightened and stood boldly naked before her, erect, hands on hips to make a masterful show of himself.

“Bully for you, darling. This is so sudden and so forth, but it’s lovely for you to make it so startlingly clear what you want.” Her eyes roamed over him with gratifying rapacity. She trailed a hand across his chest and down his abdomen and held his erection. “My word. What an exception. I’ve heard of men like you. It’s high time I saw one. It’s a bit alarming and utterly irresistible. Had you planned to put anything on it?”

“No.”

“Good. We’ll do it for real. It’s a bit risky, but I expect we’re not in a mood to worry about that.” She dropped her robe, moving with confidence in the attraction of her thin, stylish body.

He took her on a wide chaise longue beside the pool. He had a sense of its being a milestone. He was using his body to achieve his goal.
Whoring
was a good enough word for it. He was fucking her for $10,000. Her pleasure appeared to be intense; every cry and moan he elicited from her slim, wiry body was money in the bank. It was agreeable to assert his authority over her, but his mind was full of assurances for Clara that this time it really didn’t touch them. Doing it for real made him think of the “real way.” If it weren’t for Clara, he might be so sunk in vice by now that he wouldn’t be able to get it up for any woman, let alone a woman who hadn’t particularly attracted him. Taking her made her attractive or made him attractive to himself. She howled rapturously as he got a tight grip on her and bit her and drove himself into her. It was thrilling to know that his body could reduce such a chic and stylish lady to helpless animal paroxysms of lust. His orgasm was an ecstasy of self-satisfaction.

“Now,” he said while he lay on her and remained big within her, “shall we talk about that play?”

“I love the way you do business.” They laughed with amicable understanding. “Did I make it disgracefully obvious that I wanted you?”

“It was pretty clear. It’s nice being wanted. I knew I was going to fuck you almost from the moment I arrived.” He used the plain word to plainly mark the limits of his involvement.

“It’s really quite extraordinary. We’re total strangers, and now this. You’ve fucked me. I’ve wanted you to fuck me for weeks. It was getting to be quite an obsession. I must say, you’ve surpassed my wildest expectations.”

“If we stay like this for a little while, I’ll do it again.”

“I’m deliciously aware of that possibility. You make your presence felt, darling, to put it mildly. Did you fuck me so that I’d put money in the play?”

“Of course. But I wanted to do it before we talked. This way, you’ve had me even if you turn the play down. You can’t say I’m a complete whore.” Her face being so close to his reduced it to the light in her eyes, which made communication seem so direct that duplicity was impossible. He opened her mouth with his tongue, and their lips scarcely touched as she put her tongue out to play with his. She moved her hands over his back and buttocks and down between his thigh and pulled him into her.

“I don’t think you need worry about being turned down. I’ll talk to my husband tomorrow night. You can count on me. I’ll manage it. If you come see me day after tomorrow, I’ll tell you about it.” She laughed with a lilt of satisfaction. “I seem to be saying the right things. It feels awfully hard again.”

“It’s getting there. Don’t you want to hear more about what you’re putting your money in?”

“I have what I’m putting my money in. If you were a whore, I’d gladly pay for this. When I want a man, nothing else counts. I doesn’t happen all that often, and now I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me for most men. Your body–I could tell you a lot about that, but you’ve probably heard it all before. I hate to state the obvious. Sublime. It’s just a hunch, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re going to be the father of a child.” Her breath caught, and the light in her eyes burned brighter. “I
have
said the right thing. Is it as exciting as all that, darling?”

“God, yes. I’m going to fuck you again just to make sure, whether you want one or not.”

“Please do, darling. I’m afraid it can’t be rape when the lady’s so willing. I’d love to be raped by you. Yes, darling, you’re definitely going to be a father. Do you fuck lots of girls?”

“As many as possible,” he said so she wouldn’t get any ideas about exclusive rights.

“Of course. No woman could hope to keep you all to herself. You make me feel more thoroughly fucked than I’ve ever imagined being. It’s such fun doing business with you. My God, you’re not a child. When you–if I’d know it was like this, I’d have had your pants off at the theater weeks ago. Rape me.”

He performed satisfactorily a second time. It was a milestone, another turning point. He was attractive to women and could satisfy them, not just puppyish nymphomaniacs like Sophie, but smart, mature, rich women like Fay Kennicutt who could be useful to him. He could begin to take his sexual nature for granted. There was no further point in a Sophie, whom he had warned off in any case. He wanted to be faithful to Clara, but he could see now that professional considerations might dictate a little latitude. He supposed he could have teased Fay along until she had spoken to her husband, but he wanted an ardent advocate, not just a go-between.

Sipping the drink he had been offered almost an hour earlier, taking in the luxurious surroundings, feeling at ease and replete, he suddenly saw the future in the everyday terms of now, rather than as an unlikely triumphant pageant that would start someday, like a play, with the abrupt rise of a curtain. His career had already started, catching him unaware. Difficult though it was to take in, he had perhaps acquired his first backer. He smiled up at her and toasted her over the rim of his glass. She stood close to him once more in her robe, idly toying with his hair, which was wet from the swim they had had together. He sat on the end of a chaise longue wrapped in a towel.

“When you smile so devilishly, you open up vistas of unspeakable delight,” she said with a ripple of irony. “You’re enchanting. I’m quite absurdly infatuated with you, as if you were my first man. I should think it would be quite pleasant for you. I don’t go in for heavy affairs–just jolly good sport when the occasion arises.”

She massaged his neck and shoulders. She was handling him again with friendly familiarity, which assumed a great deal but was no longer bothersome to him. It was almost asexual, almost as if she were mothering him, or perhaps it was more sisterly. He arched his neck and uttered chortling laughter. “If you wanted me, I don’t see why you waited for the fairly faint chance that I’d come to see you about backing a play.”

“Oh, I knew it would happen sooner or later, and I don’t mean that to sound as if I thought you were madly attracted to me or even knew of my existence. The nice thing for a woman, if she’s not conspicuously deformed, is that most men will take her if she offers herself. You’re all such pushovers. That’s why no woman can expect a man to be faithful.”

“Really?”

“You say that as if there’s somebody you feel you should be faithful to. Clara Washburn? I’ve heard. She’s superb and so young and much more attractive than me, but look what happened. You want me to help you, of course, but that couldn’t make you feel sexy.”

“If you knew about Clara, you didn’t mean what you said about my not being interested in girls.”

“Of course not. You? A fairy? Good heavens, no. That was just to start the ball rolling.” She touched his neck with the tip of her index finger. “A mole.” Her expression suddenly clouded, and she snatched her hand away. “How stupid. It’s because I knew somebody who–I get these psychic flashes. I really must stop.” She strode across the patio and came back with two lighted cigarettes, putting one between his lips. She put a finger on his neck again. “That mole if frightfully sexy.”

“It’s my conspicuous deformity.” He took a puff of the cigarette. It happened again: They had touched; he had partaken of an essence and made another primary contact with the elusive reality outside him. He rose. “I’ve got to leave. We’re not strangers anymore, are we?”

“I’ve never really felt like a stranger with you, darling. You’re young enough to make me wish you were my son, and you’re man enough, if you’ll forgive the understatement, to make me wish you were the father of my son. For a woman, that’s a devastating combination. I’ve always thought Oedipus was what it’s all about.”

He looked at her as she moved in close to him and hung on his arm. “You’re an amazing lady. I think you’ll like the play. Is there anything more I should tell you about our production plans so you can convince your husband? The main thing is that we know the play’s a risk, but we don’t intend to stop there. David and I want to produce in a big way. Anybody who starts out with us is apt to see some exciting developments–and make money too.”

She smiled up at him and hugged his arm. “I’ve never known anybody who seemed so certain of being a success. I’ll take bets on you any day, darling.” She went with him to the cabinet, where he had discarded all his clothes. He dropped the towel, and she ran her hands over him while he put on his shirt. “Hurry up and get this out of my sight, darling, before I disgrace myself. It’s feeling so thrillingly heavy.” She giggled as he pulled on his shorts and trousers and she helped tuck him in.

She put her arm around his waist and matched his stride as she accompanied him to the edge of the paving. She released him and took a step back from him. “My word. It’s thrilling to feel you move and know what you look like under those clothes. I’m as dazzled as a schoolgirl. Is Clara Washburn sensible about sharing you?”

“No.”

“Very well. I’ll keep it a deep, dark secret. Run along, darling. I’ll expect you day after tomorrow.”

He left her, barely restraining a whoop of joy as he crossed the lawn. He was bubbling with excitement when he reported a tentative success to Clara and David, although there was little of substance he could tell them to substantiate this claim, and he was obliged to invent some dialogue. His thoughts were so firmly fixed on money that he could even talk to Clara without being self-conscious about Fay Kennicutt’s charm and friendliness, implying that she was too old to be considered physically attractive.

By evening he had worked himself into such a pitch of suspense that he wondered if he should try to see her again before the fateful talk with her husband. Was he counting too much on his sex appeal? Should he take her David’s budget and show her how much they could make if the play were only a moderate success? David had told him that neither of the Kennicutts had wanted to read it on the grounds that they couldn’t judge it without seeing it performed. The more he thought about this, the more alarming he found it. It didn’t sound like Fay. Had he already served his purpose? He was too nervous to contemplate taking her again, so he decided to let it ride and struggled though the next day in alternating gloom and euphoria.

Clara and David, full of advice and encouragement, accompanied him to the car when the hour finally came for his appointment. The butler directed him to the pool once more. Fay strode to meet him as she had two days before, again in a robe, but a lighter one that revealed more of her trim figure. He had almost forgotten what she looked like.

“It went very well, darling,” she announced immediately. “It seems he’s been looking forward to taking another flyer on Broadway, as he calls it. He wants to see you and David on Sunday. You’ll have to go over all the facts and figures, but he’s definitely interested.”

“Wonderful,” Walter said, determined to act as if he took interest for granted. Until they had it all on paper, she still played a key role. He looked at her to reacquaint himself with the woman he had possessed. Except for the wide mouth, which amused him, her features were pleasing without being distinctive. Her skin looked slightly tight, as if it were on the verge of cracking with signs of age. Her hair was dry today and hung straight with a metallic sheen to slightly rolled ends. She looked smart and competent and healthy.

“I really must be more efficient about drinks this time,” she said, linking their arms and leading him across the patio. She handled him with neither more nor less familiarity than she had from the moment they had met.

“Has he given you any idea how much he’s thinking of putting up?” he asked, trying not to sound overeager.

“He talked about $5,000 at first. I tried to talk him up to ten, but I think it’s finally up to you and David to swing the deal.”

“If he makes it ten, our worries would be just about over. I’m counting on you to soften him up for the kill.”

“I’ll keep working on him, darling.”

When they reached the bar cabinet, he noticed that her robe had remained closed. He was feeling more reticent physically than he had the other day. He had resolved to permit himself no further intimacies if her husband’s reply had been negative. He wasn’t even sure, now that there was no novelty in stripping for her, that he would be capable of the necessary response. He watched her as she dealt with bottles and glasses and ice and tried to get some feeling of her expectations.

She turned to him with a flash of her expansive smile and gave him a glass. “That’s one of my specialties. We’ll drink to the meeting on Sunday.” She spread her hand out flat on his hipbone and eased closer to him and looked up at him. “I’m still dazzled. I love so your being here and being able to touch you that I don’t really need anything else unless you do. If you’re feeling faithful to your girl, I’ll quite understand.”

“To be perfectly truthful, I’ve wondered. You don’t think it might turn into a heavy affair if we go on?”

“No heavier than it is now. We can’t go on pretending that I have to see you to discuss the play, so we may not have another chance to be alone anyway. I’ll give you some pointers on how to handle Freddy, and then I’ll be out of it. You don’t need my help anymore.”