The Good Life (11 page)

“Let's agree that you like the things I give you. If you don't, you can tell me, and I'll replace them. I want to cover you with gold because I like the look of it. Your hands are so beautifully shaped and powerful-looking that I want you to have a chunky ring to call attention to them. I ordered one at Cartier this afternoon.” He paused and lifted his chin proudly. “It's an original Vernon design. They want you to come in so they can measure your finger.”

“Measure my
what
?” Perry said, laughing and covering himself with his hands. “Wow, an original
Billy
Vernon design.” Perry lifted his chin in a parody of Billy. “Then I won't say thank you till I'm sure I like it.”

“Very sensible.” Perry's quick humor and sense of fun captivated Billy. “Oh, incidentally, I went back to that gallery after you left me. The painter's name is Sutherland. English. There were several other of his things. I think he has great promise. I bought the one you liked. It's for you.”

“How much was it?”

Billy frowned, his chin raised for a moment in disapproval before his face broke into a smile and he realized that Perry was still playing with him. “I suppose that's a permissible question for the picture. You're a born collector. Not expensive, actually. Only a hundred and fifty.”

“Well, I know I like
it
, so I can say nicely — to the nicest man I know — thank you, Billy.”

“And you're the most thrilling boy. Now, let me freshen our drinks, and I'll take half an hour just to get the outline on canvas.”

He brought Perry a full glass and put his own beside the easel before putting on his pince-nez. He peered at his model. “That arm a little higher, the way I showed you. Your armpits don't have great tufts of hair, so they're very enticing. I hope it doesn't get any smaller. It's just the way I want it.”

“I can probably make it bigger if you'd like.”

“No. It's perfect. As if you've just come.”

“As a matter of fact,” Perry said, “I just have. Or didn't you notice?”

They both roared with laughter, then Billy became engrossed in his sketching. He worked in silence for a few minutes with quick sweeping strokes of a charcoal stick.

“What would you like to do this evening?” Billy asked eventually with no slackening of his concentration. “It'll be getting late when we're ready to go out. I thought we might eat at Tony's. The food is as it may be, mostly Italian, but Mabel Mercer is singing there. Do you know her? I imagine she's an acquired taste, but I'm quite mad about her.”

“Sounds fine with me, Billy.”

“Drink your drink. That arm doesn't worry me if you don't move the rest of you. Your cock is marvelous. It doesn't change.”

“Your looking at me makes me feel as if I'm always about to get a hard-on.”

“Give me another fifteen minutes. You're an angel. I think we're going to have wonderful times together. You're so exactly what I've needed in my life. It's rare that two people can give each other what they both want. Are you accustomed to being very promiscuous?”

“No, I don't think so. Not particularly, not like some guys I've seen around. I like being with somebody. I like women too, you know.”

“I assumed so. That day I met you, I didn't think you were for men at all. I like that. One gets far too many silly faggots.”

“Does one?” Perry asked, using Billy's clipped tones.

“One
did.”
Billy bowed his head slightly, acknowledging Perry's barb, then went on. “I don't expect you to deny yourself— men or women. You're such a gentleman that I know you'd never do anything to offend me. I don't forget the difference in our ages. If the day should ever come when you want to get married, as I did, I hope I can be a friend of your wife's too. I already think of you as somebody I want to know always.”

“That's what I want most, Billy.” Perry's bantering tone was replaced by one of grave sincerity. “I don't think of this as just a trip to Europe. I believe you when you say I can stay with you. I want to belong to you, Billy.” He paused and suddenly laughed. “You see what's happening? My cock's ruining your picture.”

“It's making my afternoon. I already have it the size I want it for art's sake. Now it can be as big as it likes for pure pleasure. I've finished for now anyway. Heaven knows when we'll have time to do the painting, but I've got the foundation, and very beautiful it is too. We need a freshener.” He removed his pince-nez and drained his glass.

Perry rose and took his semierection to him. Billy ran his hand along it and caressed it.

“You're quite astonishing, Perry. You'll soon convince me that you think I'm attractive.”

“Love me, Billy.” Perry's voice was barely audible. Billy cocked his head to make certain he'd heard correctly. Perry's eyes were deep pools of longing. He stood quietly, scarcely breathing, with a look that struck Billy as beseeching, almost pleading. “That's all I need to make me think you're attractive. I hope it's not too much to ask.”

Billy was unaccountably moved. His voice was too soft. “I don't love easily, but I think you'll make it easier than usual. There's already a great deal I love about you.This certainly.” He laughed and gave Perry's cock a squeeze to ease the tension.

“I'd better go put on that dressing gown I borrowed from you. I'll be right back for that freshener.”

Perry hurried to his room, barely able to contain his triumph. He had done it. He had him. He had put it in words, and Billy had committed himself. He wouldn't go back on his word now.

He went straight to the bathroom to jerk off, driven to find some release for the sense of conquest that was bursting his bones. He handled his cock with loving, attentive curiosity like some newly acquired precious possession, trying to find something special about it that was making all this possible.

Mrs. Rosen had been the first to praise his cock to the skies. At seventeen, having his first serious sexual affair, he found her wild response to his body a heady experience. Later others like Hubie had practically worshiped it.

He held his cock in his flattened palm and stared at what was obviously a very valuable asset. It was a satisfying handful, but it felt no different than it had for years. His hand became active as he tensed, throwing his hips forward and his head back. His orgasm brought New York to its knees. He had conquered the town. He was a fashionable whore, goddamn it, and he didn't care who knew it.

He put the dressing gown on and returned to Billy. The freshener was waiting for him. He glanced at the canvas. It was a tangle of lines, but he could see the outline of his reclining body. His cock looked big but not exaggeratedly so.

The next several days were spent making Perry look the gentleman Billy believed him to be.

“Of course,” Billy had said, “I prefer you with nothing on at all, but the brothers Brooks expect you. I've raised the limit to five hundred to be on the safe side. I won't go with you; I respect your judgment.”

Billy was sorry that he would miss the look of pure avaricious glee that came into Perry's face when confronted with luxuries, but he wanted to test his taste and style. So far Perry had passed all the tests like a winner. He exhibited extraordinary savoir faire wherever Billy took him but with no pretensions.

“And don't forget Cartier,” Billy added.

After the first few minutes of paralyzed intimidation, Perry ordered his clothes with dispatch from the snooty salesman. Perry was amazed to discover that he knew exactly what he wanted, as though he'd been keeping notes for years for this particular shopping spree.

The two dinner jackets were the most expensive items, but Perry scrupulously kept within the limit Billy had imposed and was even able to add at the last minute a waistcoat not unlike the one he'd admired on Lucius Beebe. The Jockey shorts looked feminine to him, but he dutifully ordered a dozen.

When it came time for him to sign for the huge consignment, he felt like a total impostor, and he kept looking over his shoulder as he walked briskly away from the shop, expecting any minute for the arm of the law to reach out and strangle him for his presumptuousness.

Billy did seem to like the look of gold. The ring he had designed at Cartier was a great chunky hunk with Perry's initials worked subtly into the rough surface. He'd got an embarrassing fit of the giggles when the elegantly obsequious manager measured his finger, but Perry pulled himself together to pick out a new wristwatch Billy insisted he get to replace Mrs. Rosen's high school graduation gift. He'd keep the old watch, of course, but it would be relegated to the back of the drawer in the desk in his room.

Trays of watches were presented. Several had flexible gold straps that Perry didn't like. They looked like the fake gold ones he'd seen in the cheap jewelry stores on Market Street at home. He chose an oblong one with a crocodile strap.

“I'd like to wear it if I may,” Perry told the manager.

“Of course. If you'd just sign the sales slip. A simple formality. The ring should be ready in the next day or so.”

Perry's eyes bugged when he looked at the slip. The ring cost more than $1,000, and the watch came to almost two hundred. Pretty soon he was going to be carrying around more than his father ever made in a year.

Perry's Brooks Brothers packages were loaded in his arm by the manager, who escorted him to the door. The uniformed doorman let him out with a salute.

It was going to be very easy to get used to shopping in places like that. There was a ritual to spending money that delighted him. Everybody made him feel important. He still felt like a fraud, but Maybe he wouldn't always. Marrying somebody like Barbara Hutton would be a step in the right direction.

There was another girl called Brenda Frazier who was in the papers all the time. She had had a coming-out party a few months ago that had made headlines. The party cost $50,000. Miss Frazier also spent $5,000 a year on clothes. Perry didn't know exactly what a coming-out party was, but it seemed a polite way of letting people know that a girl was on the marriage market. May be Billy knew her family. She was more the right age for him than Barbara Hutton.

And, of course, there was Bet. She was even more right for him in age. Ever since what he'd come to think of as that odd moment with her photograph, she'd rarely left his mind.

He found himself looking at the photograph every time he went into the sitting room, half expecting it to speak to him again. He'd approach it warily, sometimes sneaking up on it and saying, “Boo!” He'd decided that he wanted to model his new clothes for it, seeking Bet's approval. Once he'd snapped open his gold case and offered the photo a cigarette and then quickly darted looks over his shoulder. If Laszlo or Billy caught him behaving like this, they'd have him locked up. He was turning into some sort of nut, and she was turning into an obsession.

That she could like him and approve of him became as important as keeping Billy interested in him. What he'd imagined she'd said, the names she'd seemed to call him, he knew had been only in his mind, but suppose she did think those things? That was something he could never let happen, no matter what.

He checked his watch as he started for home. It was a beauty. He was glad he hadn't let Billy's weakness for gold influence him.

Perry let himself in the apartment with his key and checked his watch again. He carried his parcels up and called out on the landing. Billy appeared holding a glass.

“There you are, dear boy.” He went to Perry and gave him a light kiss on the mouth. “I just got in a few minutes ago myself.”

“Oh, Billy, what an afternoon. I felt like John D. Rockefeller. Wait till you see the things I got. I stayed under $500 at Brooks. I love their things. The salesman said I looked wonderful in everything. Well, I guess that's what he's supposed to say, but I sort of agreed with him. Look what I got at Cartier.”

Billy took his hand to look at the watch more closely. “Excellent. Very good-looking. I do like their things. The strap goes perfectly.”

“I was afraid you'd want me to get the gold one.”

“We mustn't let my vulgar insistence on gold carry us away. You have natural taste.”

“The ring is going to be sensational. Oh, Billy, you're doing so much for me. You can't imagine what it's like to have really good things for a change. You won't recognize me in my new clothes.”

“I've been spoiled all my life. It's your turn now. You make it such a pleasure for me. You must want a drink. Don't let's stand out here all evening. I was just going to freshen up. Go put your parcels away and come have a drink with me. I want to hear all about everything.”

Their evenings were as full as their days. That night at Tony's they heard Mabel Mercer sing in her husky, muted voice. She was a stately woman who seemed awfully highbrow for the long, narrow room filled with guys and only a sprinkling of women.

The conversations Perry heard around him — the affected speech, mannerisms, and shrieks of male laughter — told him that this was the queer world he'd never seen openly in public. Between bites of his lasagna, he played along with the camp propositions made by the guy at the next table, amusing Billy enormously.

They went on to Leon and Eddie's, where Frances Faye shouted and banged away at the piano. She was more Perry's style; he was crazy about her.

There was a small jazz group at Eddie Condon's. Perry made careful note of all the places on 52nd Street they visited so he could mention them knowingly.

Billy drank. It was about 3 o'clock when he began repeating his words. He was fine all evening, and then all of a sudden something slipped a cog. They decided it was time to go home.

Perry let them in with his new key. They mounted the landing, where Billy stopped. “Do you want to get undressed? Come back. We'll have a nightcap together. Together.”