The Godson (32 page)

‘Yeah. Haven't you seen the T-shirts?' said Coco. ‘
Support your local MP
—
Buy a gram of heroin today
. That's one you should take back to England with you, Peregrine.'

‘Yes I'll get one for Uncle Henry. He could wear it into the House of Lords. I'm sure they'd be impressed.'

‘So we figure if they're going to give free Methadone and syringes to smack freaks, we can grow a couple of plants down by the saw-mill. Anyway,' Marita gave the boys a wink, ‘these are ready.'

Marita lit one of the joints and handed it to Les who nodded for Coco to go first. She took a toke, so did Les then it went on to Peregrine. Sure tastes all right, thought Norton, almost sweet. Not at all hard to smoke. It had been a while since Les had had a smoke and by the time the first joint was finished he'd begun to mellow out a bit. Peregrine eased back in his chair, a little glassy-eyed and blinked. Marita lit joint number two. It finished about the same time as half of the second bottle of Great Western and by now Norton was beginning to feel very mellow indeed. He too eased back further in his chair and a big, cheesy grin spread over his face. Marita and Coco were smiling back at him from the lounge. Peregrine was beginning to chuckle to himself.

‘Get a buzz out of that, did you, Les?' asked Marita.

‘Reckon,' replied Norton.

‘What about you, Peregrine?'

‘My word. It's quite exceptional.'

‘Quite exceptional,' laughed Coco. ‘I like that.'

Coco turned the stereo on very softly. It sounded like a local radio station; some country and western song. Whatever it was it certainly sounded all right.

‘So, this is life out in the Australian countryside, eh, Coco?' said Peregrine.

‘Yep. Out with the flowers and the animals. It's slow and it's corny, but it beats the hell out of a home unit in the city.'

‘I could imagine.'

‘What do you do in England besides sell clothes?' asked Marita.

‘I… own property. I get an income from that. Which is why I'm out here. I… may invest in some more.'

‘Oh. What about you, Les? What do you do?'

‘I work up the Cross.'

‘The Cross!' chorused the girls. They looked at each other then burst into laughter.

‘Yeah. At a casino. I work on the door.'

Coco and Marita's laughter subsided and they sat smiling at the boys. It was starting to come together what they were. Peregrine, articulate and sophisticated with scads of money to throw around, the big bloke who kept in the background, polite but menacing. He was obviously taking care of the Englishman while he was out here buying land or whatever else it was he was up to. It was for sure they weren't dealers or anything to do with the police.

‘We used to work up the Cross,' giggled Coco.

‘Yeah?'

‘Yes. When we first came to Sydney. We were flat motherless broke. We worked at a place called The Golden Delicious.'

‘The Golden Delicious?' Norton thought for a moment then grinned. ‘Hey, I've heard of that.'

‘Yes,' laughed Marita. ‘The House of Domination and Bondage. Just off William Street.'

‘House of Domination and Bondage.' Peregrine blinked slowly. ‘Good Lord, Marita. What ever did you do there?'

‘Get dressed up in school uniforms, then tie up old judges and barristers and rich stockbrokers and whip the shit out of the stupid old bastards.'

Coco and Marita went into a fit of the giggles which cracked Les and Peregrine up as well, causing Peregrine to spill champagne all down the front of his trousers.

‘My God,' he spluttered. ‘I don't believe it.'

‘That's what some of these stupid old pricks used to say too, when we'd finished with them,' laughed Marita.

Norton was starting to blink a little himself now. ‘How long did you work there?' he asked.

‘About six months.'

‘What? Did you just get sick of it?'

‘Sort of,' replied Coco.

‘Yeah. Not being addicts we made a fair bit of money,' said Marita, ‘which is how we bought this place.' She and Coco exchanged a quick laugh. ‘But it was being too good at our job that brought us undone. Me anyway.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Well, Les. You see … our specialty was blow jobs.'

‘That sounds all right,' said Norton.

‘Ohh, don't worry,' said Coco. ‘We were the best in the business. Those old dills, and plenty of young ones too, used to come from miles around to get us to knock the top off it.'

‘We gave the best polishes in Sydney,' winked Marita.

‘Would these hot lips lie?' Coco winked and pursed her lips at Peregrine.

‘So what happened?' asked Les.

‘Well,' said Marita. ‘I did a little job on the outside. I met this politician at a hotel near The Quay. It turned out he wasn't a bad old bloke. So I really gave him his two hundred and fifty dollars worth. I worked him over; I drained him, man. I gave the old bugger head like he'd never had before. Anyway, it must have been too much for him. 'Cause just as the old bastard was about to get his rocks off, he had a heart attack and turned his toes up. I bloody near shit myself.'

Norton and Peregrine both roared laughing again. Then something dawned on Les. ‘I remember seeing something about that in the papers. That wasn't…?'

‘Yeah, bloody oath. That's who it was.'

‘His dick wasn't the only thing you left stiff in the room, was it love?' laughed Coco.

‘Too right. They reckon it took them an hour to pull the bed sheets out of his arse. Anyway, I just left him there and split. But being a bigwig the papers got hold of it. Then the cops started investigating. We were both getting sick of the whole bloody scene, so we got out of town before they figured out who it was and I either had an accident or they found something to charge me with.'

‘Could they charge you with murder by blow job?' queried Peregrine.

‘Dunno.' Marita shook her head. ‘But they'd probably try.'

‘How about wilful desuction,' giggled Coco.

‘They definitely would have got you for being an accessory after the fat,' roared Norton.

‘I disagree,' chortled Peregrine. ‘The evidence would never have stood up in court.'

Stoned and with a couple of champagnes under their belts Les and Peregrine started rolling around on their chairs, roaring like tigers. Norton couldn't ever remember laughing so much — there was no doubt it was a bloody good smoke the girls had. Marita and Coco weren't far behind them. It was a ripper of a story and one the girls obviously didn't tell too many people, not around Stokers Siding anyway. They probably liked to get it off their chests. But even without the pot or the champagne it was still turning out to be a very funny evening.

Norton regained his composure and through the mellow, peaceful haze of the marijuana noticed the girls grinning at them as if they had something on their minds. Or maybe they had thought of something else that was amusing.

‘I'll tell you what,' said Coco. ‘Seeing as you're not bad blokes, how would you like one for the road yourselves?'

‘What…?' blinked Norton, still stoned off his head.

‘A blow job,' smiled Marita. ‘How would you like one on the house? No screwing. Just a nice polish.'

‘Well… okay. Why not?'

‘What about you Peregrine?' grinned Coco. ‘It's the least we can do. You shouted us champagne. Bought all our clothes. Paid us cash. You want one too?'

Peregrine blinked as if he didn't quite believe it. ‘I… I mean, well, yes. Why … not?'

‘Okay. Come on.'

Coco took Peregrine and led him to a bedroom down the hallway. Marita motioned to Les. When he climbed to his feet and rocked a little, he again realised just how good the girls' pot was.

‘This way,' she grinned.

Norton followed her to a bedroom a little closer. It was softly lit by a small table lamp next to a double bed with a mosquito net folded over the top. Norton could make out some posters and small paintings on the walls and above the bed were two fairly large speakers.

‘Get on the bed and take your jeans off,' said Marita. ‘I'll be back in a second.'

Norton did exactly that. Then as he lay there with the pillows
under his head he began to wonder what was going on. Were these two women for real? Were they murderers? Maybe they were going to castrate him and Peregrine. Weird thoughts and colours and ideas were swirling through his mind. Marita materialised back into the room and removed her tracksuit. She had a solid, full-breasted figure and watching her in her white knickers and bra Norton couldn't help but feel a stirring in his loins. She sat on the bed next to him, bent down and gave him the lightest tongue kiss. As she did Les heard the speakers above his head scratch into life.

‘Just relax,' she said softly, and ran her hand down to his loins.

Norton eased back onto the pillows and began thinking this wasn't too bad after all no matter what. These pillows were definitely the softest he'd ever felt and the bed had to be the most comfortable he'd ever been on. Smiling at him in her knickers and bra Marita was starting to look like Miss Universe. Norton couldn't ever remember feeling better or more relaxed in his life. Suddenly the speakers above his head roared into life and a haunting melodic voice filled the room.

‘
When I was back there in seminary school, there was a person there who put forth the proposition that you can petition the Lord with prayer
.'

‘Jesus Christ!' Norton jerked his head up from the pillows. ‘What the bloody hell was that?'

‘Relax,' said Marita. ‘It's only the record.'

Norton settled down and the voice went on.

‘
Petition the lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer
.' There was a pause for a few seconds then the voice seemed to scream from every corner of the room. ‘
YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!
'

‘Bloody hell,' said Norton again. ‘What's going on?'

‘Relax,' said Marita. ‘It's just a record. That's all.'

Les settled back into the pillows once more and the sounds of a beautiful harpsichord playing filled the room, accompanying that same haunting, lilting voice.

‘
Can you give me sanctuary? I must find a place to hide. A place for me to hide
.'

The music was wonderful, the voice rich and resonant. Who could possibly sing like that? Norton was trying to concentrate on the music as Marita's gentle hand stroked him softly. Before long the swelling in his loins was a howling, pumping erection.

‘Ooh!' he heard her say. ‘That is a hard one, isn't it?'

The harpsichord and the voice went on. Les was lost in
a dream of colours and sound. It was fantastic. Marita continued to stroke him. The harpsichord paused and the music switched to a bouncing, heavy bass line of fast, trembling guitar and rattling maracas. At that precise moment Marita's mouth found him.

A shudder convulsed Norton's body. Never had he experienced anything as good as this. Marita's mouth was pure ecstasy. She drew on him as he writhed gently on the bed. New sensations. Weird music. Even weirder lyrics.

‘
Peppermint mini-skirts. Chocolate candy. Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
.'

What the fuck is happening to me? thought Les. Marita went on. Her wild, hot tongue flicked up and down and across his dick and balls. She was teasing Les into a frenzy with her tongue. Then the music changed again to light jazz on an electric piano; the drummer had switched to a brush. Marita was driving him mad with her tongue. The words got crazier.

‘
Catacombs. Nursery bones. Winter women growing stones. Carrying babies to the river
.'

Norton writhed on the bed and ran his tongue across his lips. Shit! What's happening?

‘
Streets and shoes. Avenues. Leather riders selling news
.'

Norton's mind was racing. Marita had him that horny he didn't know which way was up; she was driving him insane. He couldn't last any longer. He wanted to roll her over, rip her underwear off and drive himself into her. He was seriously thinking of doing that when the voice called out.

‘
The monk bought lunch
.' A laughing voice answered. ‘
He bought a little
… ?' The voice replied. ‘
Yes he did
.'

The easy, skipping jazz abruptly changed into a pounding conga beat with a screaming electric organ and pumping bass riff. The strange, haunting voice called out again.

‘
This is the best part of the trip. This is the trip. . . The best part . . . I really like
.'

At that instant Marita dived and her mouth seemed to take all of Les. The congas thumped and Marita went to work, her head going up and down. She drew harder and harder. Her tongue slithered. Her teeth nibbled gently. Norton now knew he was going to go insane. He clawed at the pillows behind his head, writhed around on the bed and screwed his face up with pain as Marita tortured him so exquisitely.

‘
Successful hills are here to stay. Everything must be this way. Gentle street where people play. Welcome to the soft parade
.'

Norton moaned and groaned as stars exploded in his head. Rainbows tumbled and crashed into each other. Suns rose and set. Marita drew on. Then Norton could feel the itch starting to go through his whole body — Marita's mouth was the only thing in the entire world that could scratch it. His head thrashed from side to side. What was she doing to him? Voices filled the room.

‘
The lights are getting brighter … The radio is moaning. . . Calling to the dogs
.'

Ohh Jesus. Norton's whole body stiffened. He knew it wouldn't be long now.

‘
There are still a few animals, left out in the yard. But it's getting harder . . . To describe. . . Sailors. . . To the underfed
.'