Schultz

  “I wouldn’t do this kind of thing to my worst enemy. Jesus christ Al. This is human beings’ lives you’re talking about. What the fuck do you want to do a criminal thing like this to me for.”

  “Because sometimes Sigmund you’re a real shit of the lowest kind.”

  “I’m a real shit, Al. Holy shit could it ever be Al, that maybe it’s you who is the real shit. I think you want to make her your mistress later, with me meanwhile minding her for you in an unhappy marriage.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Wait.”

  “For why should I wait.”

  “For me to think a second, that’s why. You call up. You put a gun to my head trying to blast me into the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “You call sixty thousand pounds a gun blasting.”

  “I do Al when it could be what ends my life.”

  “Settling down into marriage will begin your life and do you a lot of good.”

  “Why Al, why.”

  “Because it’s a natural condition in a stable society.”

  “You should know shouldn’t you Al, after three divorces.”

  “I loved and was happy with all my former wives. Who still remain dear friends.”

  “Well the wife you’re picking out for me is already an enemy, suing, harassing and embarrassing. She’s the type of woman who after two weeks living with her will bore the shit out of me. What do I talk to her about in my old age. We have nothing in common.”

  “What are you. Some kind of special big profound thinker or something. That kid is as smart as she is beautiful and will give you a lesson in brains anytime.”

  “She’s given me a lesson Al. In fucking brain damage.”

  “Which by the way is getting more noticeable with you every day, Sigmund. Learn to play checkers together in your old age if you’re so worried about conversation. Also think of yourself someday decrepit in a lonely house with your balls shrivelled, and no one like a young beautiful woman to look after you.”

  “I grow old Al and she stays young and beautiful.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Thanks for the nice arrangement. But at the moment I’m not yet with both feet in the grave and my balls are not shrivelled and I am not living in a lonely house.”

  “What you got somebody there.”

  “No Al, it just so happens I haven’t.”

  “Well you heard me. Sixty thousand is yours. The moment you sign the marriage register or whatever they do over here in England to make it legally final. Now goodbye.”

  Schultz replacing the receiver. Right down smack on a bundle of money the other end of the wire. What the fuck. I could marry something worse than her incredible body and good looks. But Jesus I see a ring go silently on her finger and I hear a deafening clank of chains in my brain. I need a sedative.

  Schultz halfway up the stairs to the bathroom. Stopping in his tracks and slapping his palm against his brow. Holy shit. His Lordship’s chambermaid down in the living room. I completely forgot. Not surprising after a day with a pair of sex maniacs trying to bugger me.

  Schultz turning on the landing. Give a pat on the head to Justinian and tiptoe back down into the hall. To push open the door. Roxana demurely seated, a magazine featuring nude ladies held open across her lap. Which she closed as she stood up.

  “Jesus, don’t stand, this isn’t his Lordship’s here. I’m just going to change my clothes O.K.”

  “Can I be of any help, sir. I mean Mr. Schultz.”

  “Sigmund, honey, call me Sigmund.”

  “His Lordship would be aggrieved to hear me address his friends by the familiarity of their Christian names.”

  “You leave his Lordship to me. This is a changing god damn society. People are getting more equal by the minute. You got to get rid of his Lordship’s primitive ideas.”

  Schultz in a light blue checked shirt, navy blue sweater and green corduroy trousers heading down into the oven warmed kitchen. Greta, sleeves pushed up her tan arms, pressing a fork around the edge of a pie crust as she turned it in a circle on the kitchen table. She’s wearing one of my shirts, one of my sweaters and even a pair of my trousers. And all of them look ten times better on her than they do on me.

  “Hi ya Greta.”

  “Who is that girl.”

  “Hey calm down honey. You know his Lordship. Well that’s his niece.”

  “What is niece.”

  “A relative, like uncle or aunt. She came all the way up from the country to the wedding. Like I’m doing his Lordship a favour. She’s just at a momentary loose end in town. Hey gee that smells like apple pie.”

  “I bake one for you because you say it is your favourite.”

  “Well blueberry is. But that’s really swell. Apple pie is great.”

  “What lucky girl she is who married his Lordship. He is so kind. So handsome.”

  “He’s fucking rich beyond the dreams of avarice too.”

  “What is this avarice.”

  “Jesus honey, it’s just a common disease we all got. And hey while I take his Lordship’s niece for a drink could you get a little snack together just for the two of us.”

  “O yes I cook ravioli.”

  “Swell. Make a salad. Leave out onions. And I got a great idea. A quiet evening at home. How about that. Hey now what’s the matter.”

  “But now you go out. I would like to go out too. Again I am left I am lonely.”

  “Sure. No problem, I mean don’t worry, soon as I get rid of her I’ll be back. Gee I just notice. In this light what a nice few freckles you got.”

  “I am more than just the freckles.”

  “I know that honey. I know.”

  Roxana walking sedately at Schultz’s side down the street. Telling little stories about his Lordship. Of how he wore two different shoes to the wedding. And for that previous entire week had dined only on bananas.

  “His Lordship is also fond of draining his ponds. Taking the mud from the bottom and removing it to his vegetable gardens. He so dislikes wasting anything.

  “Jesus is that the only problem he has.”

  “O no, sir.”

  “Sigmund, for christ’s sake.”

  “Very well, Sigmund. His Lordship also has found that somehow a nasty pike has got into the moat and has eaten nearly all his goldfish.”

  “Holy Jeeze that is tough.”

  “Yes he is most upset. And now every one of the castle staff is nervous awaiting her Ladyship’s arrival in residence.”

  Turning under an archway into a mews. Opening the door to this crowded smoky interior. With this healthy cheeked blue big eyed girl in tow. Led into this den of high pitched voices. A sprinkling of debutantes oooing and aahing. Their boy friends talking of motor cars. The viscosity of oils, speeds of acceleration, smoothness of transmissions, and the safety of tyres. Even a champagne cork popping. As Schultz and Roxana took seats on this bottoms polished oak bench in this cubbyhole.

  “Jesus. You can have something more than a glass of bitter beer.”

  “O no, that’s exactly what I want. And also I want to tell you something.”

  “Sure.”

  “You remember when you were having breakfast. And what you said.”

  “Where. What. What did I say.”

  “At Nectarine Castle that morning in your bed. You said you wanted to fuck me.”

  Schultz in the middle of a sip of beer lurching forward in his seat. As the mouthful swallowed the wrong way. Choking and sputtering, Schultz spat out back into his glass. Roxana clapping him on the back.

  “Christ excuse me. But you believe in direct language honey.”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus. Just give me a second or two. I got to think.”

  “I have said the wrong thing, haven’t I. Exactly what you weren’t expecting.”

  “No no. I mean I wasn’t expecting. But it was beautiful the way you said that. Wow.”

  “Were you thinking you were going to have to chase me, tear
my clothes off, throw me down on my back and prise open my legs.”

  “Honey. Jesus not so fast. It’s just that at this moment I am in the middle of a lot of deep thoughts that are hanging over the crossroads of my life.”

  “I should not have called upon you.”

  “No, no, it’s absolutely perfect you did. But christ, what kind of environment are you living in down there at his Lordship’s.”

  Schultz lighting a cigar, put aside his beer and popped back a brandy. Taking Roxana by the hand. Her fingers tightening in a reassuring squeeze. Prick painfully swollen caught the wrong way in the underwear. The day darkening. This girl’s cunt I can read in her face. Just like lips pouting soft, like half a bite of a ripe sweet black cherry. Holy god what’s happening to me. I don’t want to totter into old age with a bitch and her mother setting me up as a machine to provide them with the lifelong comfort of caviar.”

  “Honey I think I need some fresh air.”

  Schultz and Roxana walking arm in arm in the shadows of branches along this fence of Belgrave Square. All the shrubbery and trees in there. Never even noticed this jungle growing right in front of my nose. And this should happen to me right now. A doll. Long brown soft gorgeous hair. Ladies treat each piece of ass they hand out as an investment in their future. I’m already laden down carrying portfolios. And if I put it up this mouth watering unspoiled country girl his Lordship will be trying to knock the shit out of me with a cricket bat.

  “Gee honey.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all I can say. You really have got me with such a hard on I’m speechless.”

  Schultz tiptoeing behind Roxana up the front steps of Four Arabesque Street. His finger over his lips for silence. Slipping the keys in, the bottom one, now the top one quietly one at a time. Eyes staring into my back. From the Ambassador’s windows. Get Roxana up the stairs and quietly into the bedroom. If only I could screw with the peace of mind that I had the kitchen door locked.

  Schultz sniffing the ravioli scented air as he and this latest country fresh morsel softly, slowly tread along the hall and up the stairs. Jesus I could also be down feasting around the kitchen table. With both ladies jumping up in turn to serve the courses. Ended with apricot brandy from the bottle in the library. While I supply laughter doing a post prandial jig around the floor followed by a partial strip tease and my own special erection war dance.

  In the semi dark of Schultz’s bedroom. Roxana sitting on the side of the bed. The rustling sound of her taking off clothes. A streak of light coming through the curtain. Eight thirty p.m. by Big Ben. Roxana standing. Putting her hands behind her back, and undoing a clasp. A naked Schultz lying on the bed. His erection twitching and pointing all over the ceiling. And holy shit. Here they come. Loose into my personal view. A pair of luscious tits. Nipples sticking out engorged for sucking. My palms itching. My god, her pubic hair. Shape of a black heart. A mole on her belly. Perfect soft and fluffy heftiness in the thighs.

  “Now Sigmund. Now, you can throw a spine electrifying fuck into me. Because here I am.”

  “Jesus you sure are kid.”

  Schultz reaching up to take this Roxana softly on top of him in bed. Roll her over. The smell of her. Musk. The feel of her satiny silk. Christ her fingers. She’s playing a magic symphony over my shoulders, my back, my arse. Jesus my motto used to be don’t waste time with women you’re not fucking. And here’s this gift of the gods arrived because I wasted a minute showing her some attention.

  The door of the bedroom opening inch by inch. And stopping. The eye of a human head peeking in. Watching. Schultz, all hands and lips all over this creature. The door coming further ajar. A long fingered hand holding it. A slim wrist disappearing upwards into a blue sweater. Schultz’s head between Roxana’s legs and her hands gripped in his black curls. As a right shoulder comes round the door and a left hand closes it behind. The entire slender honey blond Greta tiptoeing into the room. Moving step by step closer. Schultz feeling Roxana’s thighs stiffening tight around his ears. Her hands dug in pulling his head by the hair.

  “Hey, honey, what’s the matter am I hurting you.”

  Wide blue eyed Roxana. Her speechless mouth wide open. Her one eyebrow raised hysterically higher than the other. And her voice finally squeaking out in fear.

  “Behind you.”

  “Please, O please, do not mind. It is just me Greta. I only watch.”

  “Holy cow.”

  Roxana biting her lips turning her head away. Schultz looking backwards over his shoulder. Roxana’s breath drawing in. Jesus when god is suddenly giving me everything I want, what the hell do I ask him for now. An extra prick.

  “It’s O.K. Roxana. It’s O.K. No problem. Roxana, it’s alright. This is just Greta.”

  “Please do not mind I come in by mistake. And it is so beautiful. I did not want to frighten you.”

  “Jesus Greta, this is kind of private.”

  “Please. I am do no harm.”

  Schultz kneeling up now over his eyelash fluttering chambermaid. Her two front teeth just ever so slightly bucked. Her eyes even more wide open, looking over Schultz’s shoulder and staring at the new arrival limelit in the curtain slit of light. Who my god is taking off my sweater. Letting out her own masterful pair of tits. Which could get her burning through steel right into the bullion fortress of Fort Knox. Holy shit, even in the fucking lingerie business you never see anything like this all in one day. What a surfeit. As well as a heart stopping memorable lesson in comparative anatomy. She’s taking down my trousers. And, would you believe it, even wearing a pair of my shorts. Her belly button in the shape of a question mark. Right in the shaft of light. Which don’t worry. I’m not asking why stunningly naked she’s heading right towards this bed.

  “I come closer. I am do no harm.”

  Greta’s long honey blond hair falling around her shoulders. Strands parting around her nipples. Half smile on her lips. Long slender, athletic body. Muscles on her stomach. Hands held out from her sides and now slowly placed back on her hips as she sensuously slowly twists and sways. Holy christ again I don’t have to ask what she’s doing. Fucking well trying to seduce us. And succeeding. And now she’s putting her hands all over my piece of ass. Fucking hell. When she could go back to Hornchurch where she learned these bad habits and kid around with her employers who not only both try to kiss her but pay her as well.

  “I am do no harm.”

  Greta climbing further up on the bed. Running one hand softly up Roxana’s leg, and momentarily squeezing Schultz’s prick with the other. And suddenly throwing herself on top of Roxana. Who welcomed her with open arms. Schultz in the melee, his fingers here, feet there trying to press between the so recently met young entwined ladies. Holy shit, not nobody even noticed the size of my prick, one third bigger than it is usually. With the way their tongues are kissing down the other’s throats. Hands and fingers stroking each other between the legs. Wagging breasts against each other’s breasts. In one day. Holy christ. The things you don’t plan for. Happen right in front of your face.

  Hey Jesus

  Girls

  What about

  Me

  I am

  Do no

  Harm

  Either

  20

  Bright with the occasional shower said the early morning wireless forecast. But the day remained windswept and pouring with rain. Big Al Duke in a tweed fishing hat smiled as if he were the father of the bride, pressing a bouquet of orchids into Pricilla’s hand and kissing her on both cheeks. A photographer outside the registry office with his flash bulbs popping off. Al beaming, his arms about the newlyweds.

  “Come on, once more, the happy couple and all of us together. What’s a few rain drops on this unforgettable day.”

  Schultz shivering in his thin grey flannel ivy league suit. Rubbing his eyes after each picture as if he did not know what hit him. Bumped into as he was once or twice by Pricilla’s mother. And having for the first time
learned the rest of Pricilla’s Christian names, Prunella and Prudence. And ushered by a back slapping Al into this long limousine.

  “Come on kids, let’s all go for our little nosh I got ready for you at the Savoy.”

  The suspension of the vast motor lowering as Pricilla’s mother got on board. Schultz at the sight of this familiar interior had his hand on his stomach and then across his lips as particles of a bacon and toast breakfast came up his throat to sourly taste in the mouth. Wedged in by a wife on one side and mother in law smothering everybody in her perfume, insisting to be on the other. Al taking up a jump seat alongside surprise of surprises. Agnes. An equally beautiful equally creamy skinned tall softly blond closest girl friend of Pricilla’s. Who flew all the way from Argentina to be at her best friend’s wedding. And who, as she gazed admiringly at Al during his tourist commentary, also made Schultz’s prick tingle into erection.

  “Agnes, even is this inclemency isn’t our wonderful London still beautiful.”

  The rain speckled vehicle majestically purring through Chelsea down a traffic jammed King’s Road. Passing around the fountain in Sloane Square. Speeding up through Cliveden Place. The greenery beyond Eaton Gate. Here’s where they keep freshly painting the houses every week. Got my hair cut only a hundred yards away right over there. In these streets where once I wandered free. Now a whole roll of Pricilla’s mother’s fat is pushing under my elbow like the arm rest of a chair. Jesus when will it ever be when I’m getting annoyed by nothing. Never be another night like that one. With Roxana and Greta. Screwed what must be one of the most beautiful holes in Europe. After half an hour’s trying. Managing to steal up on Roxana from behind. As Greta was otherwise engaging her from the front. That privileged fucker his Lordship. Doesn’t even know what’s hanging around just one of his fucking castles. And now. Just when I’m meeting one after another, exactly the kind of women I need supplied in my life. This happens to me. A coffin lid slammed. Catching my fingers, my prick, my neck, my balls. With two tons live weight of a mother in law sitting on top crushing it closed. Eight new grey hairs this week I pulled out of my head. Al I can do is holler and scream bloody fucking murder way down in the abyss of my guts. And Al, holy shit, can he be appropriate. Choosing flowers related to those that trap and eat god damn flies.