The Good Life (10 page)

Laszlo appeared wearing a jacket and tie, the impeccable valet again.

“Yes, one more, Laszlo, and then we'll go out.”

Laszlo collected the glasses on a silver tray. “Was yours satisfactory, sir?” he asked Perry, bowing over him and looking into his eyes.

“Just right,” Perry said, his lips twitching with a smile.

Billy put on a straw boater and carried a cane for their stroll to the Plaza. It was warm, almost summer. Perry wondered if business was good out at the fair. He'd heard that it wasn't doing as well as expected and had loyally insisted on its success to anyone who asked. From now on it was on its own. It was a peculiar feeling. For the first time he had nothing outside himself to claim an attachment. He was going to be looking out now for number one. Himself.

The Oak Room looked like its name, with a lot of dark oak paneling. There was a long bar with expensively dressed clientele — exclusively male — lined up several deep in front of it. Billy and Perry sat in the restaurant section, where there was a sprinkling of women.

At Billy's suggestion, they both ordered eggs Benedict, which Perry had never had. After a glance at the prices, he refused the wine Billy offered him and settled for a beer. Much as he enjoyed wallowing in Billy's money, there were limits. The beer was fifty cents, which was bad enough. Billy had started on his brandy and sodas.

When he tasted the eggs Benedict, Perry decided he never wanted eggs any other way.

They were almost finished when a big man stopped at their table. He was tall and solidly built, with hard-bitten features and a booming voice. He was dressed with almost blinding elegance. He was wearing a yellow checked waistcoat that particularly struck Perry's fancy.

“Off to Europe again, sire?” he boomed at Billy.

“Soon, Lucius. Not you?”

“Not this time. Don't let them get up to any monkey business while you're there. Hitler's done wonders for Germany. We need to keep the Commies on the run.”

“I'll see to it, Lucius. Lucius Beebe, this is my friend Perry Langham. He's going to Europe with me.”

Perry blinked. He'd just read this man's column, and now he was being scrutinized by him through narrowed eyes. He found his hand held in an iron grip while he was given a special look.

“A strapping lad. Congratulations, Billy. I like the look of you, sire. We must share a bottle of wine together. I'm at the Drake. Give me a call. I won't forget your name.”

“I read your column this morning,” Perry said.

“Excellent taste in literature. If I'd known you were going to read it, I'd have taken more time on it. It'll be an inspiration in the future to think of your reading it when I write it. Call me. I'll have a dozen bottles waiting for you. We'll see which one of us can put away the most. There's always a bed handy to fall into, sire.”

After nodding to Billy, he made his majestic way through the crowded room while heads turned to watch him go. Perry glowed with proud satisfaction. Heads were turning to watch a man who had invited him to a drinking match. He had talked on terms of intimacy with a celebrity.

“My goodness,” Perry commented. “Is he really that way?”

“Lucius?” Billy chuckled. “Mothers lock their sons in the attic when he comes to call. You made a hit. I expect you to. Call him. I'm told he's usually too drunk to worry much about sex, but he's a local personality. Old Boston money, very well-connected. Those things count in this city. It will give me great pleasure to see you making your way.”

Perry had strawberries and cream, they both had coffee, and then they were once more out in the balmy day.

“Shall we walk along 57th Street?” Billy suggested. “I like to see what's in the galleries. It's not quite 3 yet. When you see it's time, you can run along to your subway. Do you think you can get home by 6:30?”

“No later than 7. It won't take me long to say good-bye to the fair. I'll pack my things and bring my bag to your place as fast as I can. I want to move in with you.”

“That's what I want, dear boy. Come look at a few pictures and then run. Are you interested in art?”

“Sure, but I don't know much about it. I expect you to teach me, like everything.”

“I can't think of anyone else I'd rather teach more.”

They crossed Fifth Avenue and started along 57th Street, stopping from time to time to look at the pictures in the windows.

Billy became alert and informative. “New York is getting more interesting,” he said as they crossed Madison. “There's not much happening in Paris except for the big established men. Picasso. Braque. Matisse. The household names. They're such giants that they make everybody here look like small fry, but I think they're coming.” They stopped in front of a window with a single picture in it.

“I like that,” Perry said. He couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, but it held his eye.

“You do? That's interesting. The composition is striking. That section there, a powerful use of color. It's original. I think you may have an eye. Let's go on to Lexington. I may come back to this one when you leave me.”

Going on to the subway, Perry felt as if he and Billy had achieved a moment of genuine companionship. He and Billy were going to be friends, as unlikely as it seemed.

Perry quit his job, turned in his uniform, and collected his pay in fifteen minutes. He returned to the Y and packed. He wrote his parents a quick note saying that he was going to Europe for the summer but that he would probably be able to send them something regularly when he got back in the fall. He enclosed thirty dollars in the letter — the amount he'd arrived in New York with.

He arrived on the doorstep with his suitcase beside him at just after 6:30, and Billy let him in with a glass in his hand.

“That was quick. I'm delighted.” Billy greeted him approvingly as Perry lifted his suitcase into the hall. “Laszlo's gone for the day. Everything went well?”

“I'm now a graduate of the World's Fair school of chair-pushers.”

“Splendid. Let's go upstairs. Drinks are waiting for us.” They went up to the landing. “Why don't you put that in your room? I'd like you to take off your clothes. I want to rough in that pose I showed you.”

Perry put down the suitcase in what was now his room. He took his clothes off and jollied his cock into a promise of what it could become and took it swinging back to the studio.

Billy surveyed him as he entered. “A beautiful boy. It's too bad you ever have to wear clothes.” He handed him a glass. Perry noticed Billy's was “freshened.” There was a blank canvas on the easel. “Do you remember the pose?”

“Sure.” Perry sprawled on the chaise longue with one foot on the floor. He drank, looking up at Billy over the rim of his glass.

“Enchanting.” Billy leaned over and adjusted Perry's arm and dropped down on the edge of the chaise longue between his legs. He moved his soft hands over Perry more amorously than he ever had before. Perry's cock hardened and began to lift along his thigh. “I could never paint the marvel of the way you feel. Your body is a masterpiece.”

“Feel all of me, Billy.” He wanted to be wanted. He put his glass on the floor, lifted his arms, and drew Billy's mouth to his.

The kiss was restrained, but Perry incited him with his tongue, and their mouths became more passionate. Perry wanted to make Billy need him. He wanted to know that Billy wouldn't let him go. Billy's mouth became devouring, and his breath became labored. Perry's hard cock was standing up against his belly. Billy found it and held it. Perry drew him back slightly and spoke against his mouth.

“Make love to me, Billy. I want to feel I'm really yours.”

Billy slipped to his knees on the floor and crooked a finger around the thick base of Perry's cock, lifting it upright. He ran his lips softly along it.

“Feel how hard it is for you, Billy. Put it in your mouth. I want you to love it. I belong to you, Billy.”

Billy lifted himself over it, opened his mouth, and rolled his tongue around it. He straightened and looked at it, tilting it at all different angles. “It's divine, Perry. Come to the bedroom.” He stood and hurried from the room.

Perry rose and followed him slowly, feeling the power surging up in him exultantly. He was getting Billy in his power. Suddenly he thought of the ritual with the whip, and his heart sank. The whip — and wielding it properly — was the ultimate hold over his benefactor. Billy wanted to be hurt by a strong young man.

But Perry was not that young man. He had to try to win Billy with his body. With his cock. Billy looked down at it and laughed. It was almost big enough to be used as a club.

Billy went into the bathroom and emerged from the bathroom wearing a dressing gown and carrying the whip. He stopped short when he saw Perry stretched out on his stomach on the bed, grinning up at him mischievously.

“I thought I'd better get an idea of what it's like,” Perry said with a comic leer. “You enjoy it. I want to know what I'm missing.”

Both of Billy's hands tightened on the instrument as he bent it furiously, almost to the breaking point. Was he being made fun of? Ridiculed? Did this …this
street boy
have the temerity to try to make him look like a fool?

“Get up from there!” Billy spat out the words, barely moving his lips. He was livid with rage. “What do you think you're doing? This isn't some sort of game, you know.”

Perry continued to grin wickedly, and Billy found his rage turning to something like shame. He felt like a little boy caught doing something naughty. After all, it
was
sort of a game, perhaps even a bit of a joke.

As Billy watched, Perry rolled over slowly onto his back and ran his hand down his body to his cock. Billy looked at the superb creature and shook his head slightly. Just what sort of game
was
he playing? He was intriguing in his unpredictability. He wasn't common. Any other boy would have performed on demand — just as Perry had the first time — but now he seemed to want to play it his own way. Billy had to admire his defiance. This was somebody to be reckoned with.

“But why not make it a game?” Perry asked with a disarmingly wicked grin. “If we had two whips, we could have a sort of duel. You know, use them sort of like swords — real Three Musketeers stuff.” He was on his feet, holding his cock at the base and waving it about like some sort of weapon.

Billy realized that Perry wasn't ridiculing him. He was ridiculing himself, his cock, sex in general. He was making an outrageous joke of all desire — no matter how bizarre or how conventional. Billy threw his head back and roared with laughter as he tossed the whip into the air. The boy was enchanting.

“En garde,”
Billy yelled, falling into a fencing stance.

Perry let out a triumphant cry. He'd won! Using his cock like a sword, he advanced and retreated, circling Billy, poking him with it and then darting away. “There! Got ya.” He lunged at Billy again. “My God, you're bleeding. You've been pricked!” he roared. “A
real
prick, ho, ho, ho.”

Billy was choking with laughter, unable to speak.

“Well, touché, or something like that,” Perry said, grabbing Billy by the arm and leading him to the bed.

Perry eased Billy into a sitting position as though he really had been wounded. With his hands on Billy's shoulders, he looked down at his cock standing up in Billy's face. “And, hey! There's something on the end of my — what are they called? — epee? Ee
pay
?”

“Épée, you fool,” Billy said, laughing.

“Well, there's something on it. See? Blood? Your blood?” His hands tightened on Billy's shoulders, and he pulled him forward slighdy. “Kiss it and make it better.”

His voice had become hard and demanding. Billy glanced up at him with an amused smile and took Perry's cock in his mouth. Perry's lips curled in a smile of his own, one of complete triumph. He shoved himself into Billy's throat and squeezed his shoulders as hard as he could. He saw Billy's hand dart under the dressing gown and move purposefully on himself.

“That's right, Billy. This is the game I like.”

The orgasm that had been gathering in Perry reached its climax, and as he thrust himself farther into Billy's mouth, he felt Billy's body tremble and shudder as he let out little cries that were almost sobs. Billy seemed to like this game too.

“You're sublime, Perry,” Billy said thickly. “Go get your drink. I'll be right there.”

Perry resumed his pose on the chaise longue and picked up his drink. His cock remained large, as though it too felt triumphant. As well it should. He hadn't expected Billy to forget the whip so easily. Not only had Billy done what Perry wanted, but he'd had an orgasm doing it. Perhaps Perry
would
be able to change Billy's habits. He reached down and stroked his cock tenderly, as he would a pet who'd performed a difficult trick perfectly.

Billy bustled in wearing slacks and a sport shirt under the house-painter's smock. Perry noticed that Billy's glass was full. He must keep bottles all over the place. He leaned over Perry and kissed him lightly on the mouth and trailed his fingertips over Perry's cock.

Billy straightened and ran his eyes slowly over him. “I'm utterly captivated by you. I should tell you that you satisfy me more completely than anybody ever has.”

“It's something that I—”

Billy put his hand over his mouth. “We don't have to discuss it. I just want you to know.” He took a key out of his pocket and handed it to Perry. It was on a ring with a small chain and some sort of medal on the end of it. Gold glittered at him. “That's your key. I had it made at Cartier, so try not to lose it.”

Perry's cock grew a little bigger. Being given gold was sexy too. “I'm going to have to think up new ways of saying thank you.”