“Ah my dear gladiator. I see you have successfully once more weathered yet another contretemps.”
“Holy mackerel it’s you Your Excellency. Yeah I weathered it by a shoe and a whisker.”
“And where is your so so beautiful companion today. Ah but then while I am with one of Lord Nectarine’s divine sisters, I see you were with another, the so marvellously elegantly curvaceous Lady Lullabyebaby.”
“Jesus Your Excellency do you know her phone number.”
“My dear boy, she is married, mistress of a great estate, you must play fair and not touch.”
“Jesus marriage is ruining my relationships everywhere. I got to get to know her.”
“Ah my friend I detect a note of real urgency.”
“You bet you do. I speak not only from the bottom of my heart but from the bottom of my balls.”
“Ah but dear chap, while I assure you I am not spying, one does still see an awe inspiring selection of ladies calling upon you. I am especially interested in the blond lady with the attaché case on the red bicycle.”
“You mean that obsessed lesbian with the whips.”
“Ah exactement and precisely monsieur.”
“Your Excellency feel free next time you spot that kraut knocking on my door to invite her over to your house will you.”
“Ah that is kind of you. And of course I shall. And please do understand that I appreciate more than anyone the difficulties the companionship of beautiful ladies sometimes presents to you.”
“Thanks. And you know Your Excellency you really are a pal.”
“Well we Belgravians must stick together Mr. Schultz, we really must you know.”
On the entrance steps of this great old town house two tipsy hours later, Schultz with his torn tail coat fluttering and his address book one name fuller, stood taking a breath of sweetened breeze just blown in from the cotton ball trees of Green Park. The London afternoon touched with a magic sun goldened splendour. His limousine door opening and his chauffeur saluting to admit him to the great upholstered peace of this motorised interior. Taking him purring up the late lunch time clubby hill of St. James’s. Feet propped up on the folded jump seat, to turn left on Piccadilly and right up Down Street and in and about the narrow lanes of southern Mayfair to pop him best foot forward on the front steps of the Dorchester Hotel. The doorman in his long green coat and brass bright buttons, saluting Schultz with a touch to his emerald gold braided top hat. And in the soft soothing perfumed shadows Schultz dreamily ascending blissfully by lift upwards four floors. To tread the soft swirling red, green, blue and grey carpet down the long mellow lit hall. To knock. And try to kill about five birds with no stones at all.
“O hey gee hi, Mr. Schultz, come in. Hey you’re all dressed up.”
“Messed up would be a better word. Sorry I’m late.”
“Well boy are we really glad to see you. Come on in. Having this suite is so much better for us. We got such a nice view of the park. Sit down.”
“What’s the new problem.”
This diminutive dark eyed brunette attired in thigh and arse clinging grey flannel trousers. Tight red cashmere sweater over her pneumatic bosoms. Between which rested a gold six cornered star suspended on a gold chain. As she stood perfume close to look up into this tall black curly haired producer’s pleasantly green eyes. Smiling her mouthful of large white gleaming teeth.
“It’s the old problem. The director is just not able to impose control Mr. Schultz.”
“So what else is the problem.”
“Well, if you want us to be frank.”
“Be my guest.”
“Well we think the designer’s statement in the sets is getting in the way of the lyrics. Again being frank, so is Magillacurdy. He’s in the way of everything. He’s trying to write, compose, act, sing and direct the whole show. We don’t know who he thinks he is. The whole cast is frightened to death of him. And he threw.”
“Yeah I know, the director.”
“Like a discus or something. Right out over the orchestra pit.”
“Yeah I know. Into the third row of the stalls.”
“He was unconscious for so long we thought he was dead.”
“Well kids he’s living and suing, so relax. Now what about the music for the second act. To start with it’s too adagio.”
“Mr. Schultz, we’re making good progress with a faster beat. Hey can we offer you something from room service. It really is a good room service.”
“No thanks. I know the room service is good.”
“We’re so wonderfully, wonderfully comfortable here now. It’s so nice with a real fireplace and everything.”
“So I see.”
A chiming tinkle of two bells from a silver dialed brass carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Sylvia prayerfully joining the tips of her fingers. Her crimson manicured toes curling down against the dark leather edge of her sandals. Her thighs flexing as she did a slight knee bending curtsey.
“O gee Mr. Schultz. Gosh this is kind of embarrassing. But it’s like an unbroken rule with us for really a long time and we expected you at one o’clock. Gee I don’t know how sort of to put it.”
“Put it. I’m listening.”
“Well. Gosh I can’t say it. You say it Herbie.”
“Hey, what’s wrong Sylvia, you got a voice.”
“O all right, I’ll say it. Well Mr. Schultz it’s like this. Two o’clock every day Herbie and I like to go to have a few minutes in private.”
“No probem.”
Schultz levering himself up from the blue and pink flowered upholstered armchair. The sun sending yellowing beams in the window. And below, the steady moan of traffic up and down Park Lane.
“O no. Stay. We just go in the bedroom. Gosh this is crazy. But you wouldn’t mind waiting would you. We’ll only maybe be fifteen minutes. At the outside twenty.”
“No problem.”
“After we’d like you to hear the couple of new songs we’re trying out for the second act.”
“No problem. I’m here to listen.”
“Gee Mr. Schultz that’s real understanding of you. There’s all the newspapers, and some magazines. Won’t be long. Meanwhile, really help yourself to room service.”
“Well since I’m paying for it, maybe I will.”
Schultz ordering two bottles of Alsatian beer and a plate of smoked salmon. Herbie with a sheepish wag of the head and Sylvia with a coy little smile and crooked little wave of her fingers, disappearing after Herbie in their bedroom door. Curtains billowing with a breeze blowing in from the park. I’m really having a full day. As Binky says mixing social, emotional, theatrical and now somebody else’s meditation all together. And Jesus last night in a dream someone asked me to remove out of her grave the body of an old girl friend of mine died young. Had to carry her wasted body wrapped in brown wrapping paper up a hillside to another grave. It woke me up and I had my hand squeezing on Greta’s tit and her hand on top of mine and both of us crying again. This beer, this bread is good. My hardworking father always used to say you can’t eat your inventory. So what a nice situation that I can sit here gorging salmon fumé on production expenses.
Schultz halfway down his second bottle of beer and staring out into other childhood memories as the bedroom door comes ajar. The wavy brown curly top of Sylvia’s head peeking out.
“Gee you alright Mr. Schultz, you’re not getting bored out there.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well gee we just thought, I mean this is entirely up to you. I mean if waiting is irksome. And if you don’t mind, we don’t mind, then you could come in here. Like maybe it would we hope be less boring.”
“You mean come in the bedroom.”
“Yeah, sure, Herbie and I don’t mind. I mean gee, that is, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure O.K. a little company helps keep the mind off big troubles.”
“Well come on in then. Bring your food.”
Schultz with his plate of smoked s
almon, and sliced buttered brown bread in one hand and the neck of his beer bottle in the other. Pushing open the bedroom door with his knuckles and stopping in and momentarily reversing his tracks as an almighty involuntary fart erupted.
“O hey. Excuse me. And excuse me twice.”
“O no, it’s all right Mr. Schultz. Come right back on in. You’re really welcome. Come in. Close the door.”
“Well if you say so. I guess you just made me an invitation it would be a shame to refuse.”
Schultz tiptoed heading for the farthest sofa by the curtained window. Putting his victuals on a side table, lowering himself into this ringside seat. And to make sure he was still in London, leaning to peek out through a parting in the gauze at the towering cotton ball trees of the park. The endless stream of cars and red tops of buses and black throbbing taxis roaring by below.
“Come on Herbie. Don’t suddenly pretend you’re all bashful. And gee please, we don’t mind Mr. Schultz if you want to watch. And help yourself to fruit in the basket there.”
Schultz settling back in the sky blue satin covered chair. Crossing his morning suited legs as he took out and put on his sunglasses. Choosing a pear with one hand, lifting his beer bottle to his lips with the other. A small bare arsed pert titted Sylvia, climbing up on top of chunky hairy Herbie and slowly lowering her arse astride his stumpy thick prick. Sylvia two hands behind her, fingers flickering, squeezing and flapping Herbie’s balls. And with a slowly increasing tempo, gyrating and wagging her shoulders. Till suddenly her head flung back, and her arse and thighs erupting into corkscrew paroxysms, she emitted breathless grunts, moans and groans.
“O gee Herbie, it’s bending.”
“Sylvia, take it easy.”
Sylvia falling forward on top of Herbie. The sound of flesh slapping flesh as Schultz administered squeezed lemon drops to the remaining pink slivers of smoked salmon. Forking a piece up on to a corner of brown buttered bread and pushing it between his lips. With a swig of beer washing the orange fleshed fish down one’s throat. While now hearing whispers coming from the bed.
“Jesus christ Sylvia just because you have an audience, don’t go try and break it.”
Schultz loosening his tie. From his breast coat pocket, pulling forth his beige silk hanky monogrammed with three large interwoven S’s. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow. The bottom of the beer bottle tapping uncontrollably on the table as Schultz lowered it in a trembling hand. Removing his sunglasses to quickly polish them and place them back over his eyes. Tints the scene nicely. These days you don’t know which people’s personal ethics are on holiday. Really thought they were meditating in here instead of screwing their heads off. Shows what my recent problems have done to my brain. Real democracy must include the right to throw a fuck into somebody and to be seen doing it. While my prick is going to explode. The way she uses her magical ass she must sense there are already enough people on the globe that you’ve got to find something else beautiful to do with your libido than produce babies. Shows you have to keep going out into the world to see where the fuck it has morally advanced without you. Leapfrogging into lewdness on his Lordship’s wedding day. If only I could find some long term, daily two o’clock, peaceful low cost fucking. Without blackmail. Without a wedding. Without having my house ruined. Without ambulances calling. Now even a sparrow has landed chirping outside on the window sill to watch. Sylvia’s no great shakes in the face but, wow, the rest of her being like that, who needs a face. Which she has turned around now and is looking at me. Holy cow, after her performance, maybe I should be clapping for an encore.
“Mr. Schultz, gee, you’re kind of left there. Out in the cold.”
“No problem, kids.”
“Hey what’s that. All that clip clop clattering.”
“I’ll take a look. It’s the horse guards. On their way down to the palace.”
“O gee isn’t London so kind of excitingly historic. And Mr. Schultz, you don’t have to just go on keeping sitting there like that.”
“No problem, I’m fine.”
“Well gee maybe wouldn’t you like to join us or something.”
“You mean come over there and join you.”
“Sure.”
“In bed.”
“Sure. While Herbie takes a rest. Or is that kind of a problem.”
“No problem. I guess like I said previously it’s an invitation it would be a shame to refuse.”
“Well come on then.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so Mr. Schultz. But hey hold it. I mean don’t you want to take off your clothes.”
“You mean like take them off.”
“Yeah why not, unless like it embarrasses you.”
“No problem.”
Schultz, struggling to get his grey tail coat off, ripping the seam further down the back. Garment now hanging attached in two halves by its collar. The waistcoat with a footprint of a detective still on it. I’m telling you. Don’t ruin the rented clothes is the understatement of the year. Tie stained, buttons missing on my shirt. Shoot these braces off my shoulders. Holy cow, look at her. What a beautiful rippling belly. Propped up by her double jointed arms. Leaning back on the bed like she’s waiting for me. Her for sure double jointed spine arched like a bow. With her mesmerizing cross eyed pair of bouncing tits blazing. And pear shaped Herbie with his big hairy arse rolled over like a collapsed walrus.
“Gee I like the nice bright colour of your suspenders Mr. Schultz.”
“Well they keep the trousers up I guess.”
“And my gosh. Gee wow. O boy Mr. Schultz. Gee wow. When you drop them, that’s really big. It really is. O Herbie. Look at what Mr. Schultz has, something out of the record books.”
“Sylvia swell, but don’t bother me a minute to take the nap I need.”
“Gee Mr. Schultz, it’s wonderful. And what two nice balls. Take off your shoes and socks why don’t you.”
“Holy christ honey with the way surprises are exploding around me, I forgot they were still on.”
Schultz yanking shoelaces undone, and digging the heel of one shoe in the instep of the other and ripping out his foot.
“Hey leave the socks on, the sunglasses too Mr. Schultz it kind of gives me a kick.”
“No problem.”
Sylvia reaching out with undulating inviting fingers to welcome Schultz’s record breaking pudenda advancing across the light green carpet. Jesus christ, suddenly this expensive suite is beginning to pay dividends. One second I’m being embarrassed out of my mind prostrate at the feet of dignitaries and next in that good old American let’s make friends tradition, my pulse is pounding with the prospect of doing what comes naturally.
“Wow. O Wow. Look what’s sprouting out of those black curly locks you got.”
“Honey you’re not so bad either.”
“Mr. Schultz O my god. You have no idea. I swear you don’t. Of what this is doing to me. No kidding. Hey just stand a fraction back. So I can really view.”
“No problem.”
“Mr. Schultz it is beautiful, beautiful. O hey wow, stand in profile.
“Fantastic, fantastic, Mr. Schultz. Herbie, the camera, get the camera.”
“Honey, the flattery is appreciated but please no god damn pictures, Jesus christ.”
“O. Not even one.”
“Not even one, honey. And is it all you want me to do is just make me just stand here.”
“O gee, gosh, I’m sorry. Step right over.”
Schultz approaching in his best bedside manner. Down in the street fire apparatus bells clanging. A snore erupting from Herbie. Sylvia running her fingertips up and down the underside of Schultz’s erection.
“Mr. Schultz, no kidding it should be cast in bronze for posterity.”
“Never mind casting, keep touching honey. You got magic fingers.”
“A perfect prick deserves perfect petting.”
“And how, honey. And how.”
“Gee we should waste not a sec
ond Mr. Schultz, let’s get going. Fuck me.”
“No problem.”
Two bodies clapping together. Schultz’s sunglasses hanging off caught on an ear. Sylvia heading backwards towards the pillow, two legs shooting out into the air locking in a scissor grip around Schultz. Who broad jumped upwards from the woolly carpet. To plunge into these soft entwining arms and squeezing strong legs. Another snore from Herbie. Sylvia’s mouth biting, her hips squirming and turning and tossing Schultz over crashing into Herbie who went arse thumping out of bed on the floor.
“Hey christ Sylvia, watch what you’re doing.”
Schultz and Sylvia, limbs still clutching in each other’s paroxysms. Herbie standing surveying the wild flailing bodies as he brushed off his arse. Schultz’s sunglasses landing at his feet. Herbie picking them up, and with his eyebrows raised, putting them on to survey the bodies on the bed. To turn away scratching his head, flat footing it over to the dressing table mirror. Where he made several contorted faces before lifting his lip and prising loose with a fingernail a particle of food lodged between his incisors. Shouts from Sylvia. Herbie turning to look. The bodies reflected in the mirror pounding up and down.
“Fuck me, fuck me inside out.”
“No problem.”
Herbie emitting a long belch. Clearing his throat as he took a hair brush to the upstanding strands on his balding scalp. Now standing to dab Vaseline on his private part and pat eau de cologne on his neck, armpits and in his pubic hair. Herbie turning. And facing the bed with a brand new erection. Schultz’s arse ramming away again on top of an open mouthed crying out loud Sylvia.
“Mr. Schultz, shoot. Shoot.”
“I nearly am honey.”
“Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.”
“Holy shit I’m coming, coming.”
“O my god Mr. Schultz, O my god. You’ve shot. You’ve shot. You’ve shot.”
“Honey when you said shoot I just had to go bang, bang, bang.”
Schultz’s perspiring head hung in the nape of Sylvia’s neck. Her gold chain caught across his mouth. The feel of her hair softly on the ear. Musky aroma of her skin. Like a so faint, so faint taste of truffles, so sweet, so sweet.