“When did you know that you’d like to be. . .”
“For as long as I remember,” she answered.
“Really?”
“You just know. Like a gay person will know they’re attracted to members of the same sex.”
“Is that how you ended up going to this type of party?”
“No, it’s not something I’d do with a total stranger.”
I pondered this for a moment. “So, why me?”
“I could tell,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I have never done that before.”
“I could just tell, I don’t know how.” She gave a semi-shrug. “I could see it in your eyes. I could tell that you’re broken, too.”
“You’re not wrong there, honey,” chimed in Elvis.
“Let me ask you some questions now,” she said.
It seemed fair enough. “Go ahead.”
“You must answer honestly.”
“Okay,” I said with trepidation.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yah.”
“A lot?”
“Yah.”
“Would you like to do it again?”
“Hell, yah.”
She grinned, leaned across and kissed me deeply, I responded without a care to the fact that we were driving up South Mapleton Drive and heading towards a sharp bend. A blare of a car horn brought me back to reality and my sanity when Mia laughed delightedly at the danger. Maaan, what have I got myself into?
Mia showed her tickets to the guards at the gate and he waved us through. “Are we near Coldwater Canyon?” I asked.
“What’s your thinking?”
“Is it too much of a stretch to think the girls are murdered here and dumped in the canyon?”
“It’s possible, it’s not that far,” she replied.
Tara Mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree, there was a giant, whale-shaped fountain that shot water from its spout near the entrance. Bruce Matherson’s ostentatiousness would have made Marie Antoinette blush, but not the Hollywood elite; they did not know or had forgotten how to blush or have good taste. I saw him glad-handing his guests as if he were funding a charity event, not an orgy. “Welcome, welcome!” he said.
He stopped Mia and eyed her up and down and at first I thought he’d recognized her, then he licked his lips and said, “Nice, very nice. I’ll be seeing you later.” He gave her his best smile. Mia quivered slightly, but she kept her smile plastered to her face and returned his lecherous grin.
A peroxide blond, drunk man sauntered up and burped. “You may know Donnie Deathstar – he’s a rockstar?” said Bruce Matherson. The rocker grinned, as if to say of course we did.
“Nope, can’t say I do,” I replied.
“You know the song, ‘Napalm Jelly’?” he said.
I thought about it and smirked, “Oh yah, ‘My love for you’s like napalm jelly, it hurts like hell and it’s very smelly’.” I chanted the rap chorus. He grinned broadly. “I hated that song,” I said, taking the wind out of his sails.
He sauntered off and patted Mia’s butt as she passed and I wanted to jab him in the eyeballs – well, Sheldon did – which surprised me.
I controlled myself and shook Bruce Matherson’s hand. He had a surprisingly strong grip, which I wasn’t expecting. What was I expecting? I guessed I expected a child molester to have a limp handshake and to be sweating. But then we’d established that the molesters look normal, have normal jobs and move among us completely unknown. It was scary to think you could sit next to one on a bus, or be your doctor, or dentist. They were from all walks of life, which was the problem: there was no one place to find them, with the exception of a party like this. Although the orgy was to disguise what was really going on, Bruce Matherson was Hollywood elite. He had power and wealth and everyone thought he was a good ol’ boy and participated when they could, or admired the shenanigans from afar, the stories reported in the press or on TV, which somehow legitimized the goings-on. Press coverage of the Heidi Fleiss trial, or Don Simpson’s extraordinary excesses, or if even half the loveable Charlie Sheen stories were to be believed, were reported on in detail, but it really was a case of, ‘what a guy!’ Most live their lives vicariously through the stars and their excesses.
No wonder these stars felt they had carte blanche to do as they pleased. After all, Hollywood is the place where dreams come true.
Bruce Matherson clearly did not recognize me either: he grinned at me and said, “First time?”
“Yah,” I replied sheepishly.
“Okay, well, rule one, there are no rules. Do whatever to whoever whenever. Whatever’s your pleasure, just take it. However, it is considered impolite to turn down any offers of a coupling.”
Huh? He smiled, assuming my expression was one of pleasure. “Other than that, enjoy!” He propelled me into the main hallway and I swear I felt his hand on my butt.
I caught up with Mia and said, “‘Impolite to turn down any offers of a coupling’?!” I quoted to her, making her laugh at my outrage. “When were ya gonna tell me that?”
“You don’t have to. Just make an excuse. Anyway, you might not want to refuse.” She nodded to a famous starlet sashaying past. I gulped. Well, maybe I wouldn’t refuse her.
“It would be impolite not to if she asked,” Sheldon said sincerely.
“My momma brought me up to have good manners,” agreed Elvis.
“You’re out of luck, Spooky,” she said, regarding the starlet, “I have it on good authority she’s only into women.”
“Damn. Just my luck. To be at an orgy and only want the dyke.” I sighed. “Present company excepted, of course,” I quickly added.
“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Now, enjoy yourself. That’s what everyone would expect you to do.”
“Ya gotta be joking,” I replied as I watched a foursome giving a display in the center of the floor, with another five or six watching and shouting out encouragement.
“At least give the impression that you’ll get involved in the scene.” She smiled at my uncomfortable demeanor.
“Are you gonna join in?” I asked casually but feeling jealous.
“No way,” she said firmly. “I’ve told you I’m here for one reason only. I was here before, that was enough. I’ve never seen such depravity. You’ll see things that’ll turn your stomach.”
“How does it go on?” I asked incredulously.
“It’s not illegal between consenting adults.”
“Apart from the underage stuff.”
“That’s why they have people of legal age dressed underage to muddle it up. You’ll see many who are dressed to look like nymphs, but they’ll be of consenting age. So they can claim they didn’t know; that they were assured that they were of age.”
“So, they can do the real sick stuff behind closed doors.”
“Let’s go mingle,” she said.
“Maybe I don’t wanna mingle with these perverts.”
“You must and try and wangle an invite to the Pleasure Dome.”
“Maaan.” I gazed around the room and spotted an up-and-coming young action star, a couple of old rockers, a councilman and a high-ranking police official. I wandered around the mansion and climbed the wide, sweeping marble staircase and along a galleried balcony overlooking the hallway hanging with tapestries. I opened the first door to find five or six couples writhing around on plastic sheets, while a man stood on the end of a four-poster bed urinating upon them. I quickly shut the door and contemplated whether they were committing a crime or not. I shuddered and moved along the corridor. I saw an armed guard at the end of the corridor and assumed that would be where the young girls were being held. I made myself walk slowly along the corridor and opened the next door determined to stay in the room longer this time should the guard be watching me.
What I saw made my chin hit the ground. A fat man was on all fours upon the bed while a crowd sat on chairs around the bed watching enthralled as a lady performed an act tha
t I later discovered was called fisting. Once again, I thought it might be a crime, actual bodily harm or something. Yet they were consenting adults and by the look on his face, he was in ecstasy. A man in a full cowboy outfit shuffled up on the couch to make room for me to sit, which I did practically in a trance. I was glad for the shades so no one could notice me looking at the floor. Don’t get me wrong, I like sex and never thought myself a prude, I had even thought of myself as adventurous, but today was proving too much. There were certain sexual acts I could have done without knowing existed, including the sight in front of me.
A murmur went around the expectant crowd. I looked up as the woman lubricated her wrist and I felt my dinner coming up and I half-expected to see the fat man’s dinner, too, followed by her fist.
“Hoo-wee, amazing, ain’t it?” said the cowboy sitting next to me. I glanced at him in disgust, but then remembered my mission.
“It’s a bit tame for my tastes, man,” I said nonchalantly.
“Well, I ain’t exactly vanilla, but I thought this was pretty strong. So, what’s your bag, partner?”
I wiggled my hand at waist height. “Something stronger than this tame crap.”
“You’re talking animals? I heard they’re bringing a lady up from Mexico who has this horse –”
“Seen it, years ago, in Tijuana. That’s old news, I heard that this was the place for real hardcore action, no holds barred.”
“It is,” he said defiantly, proudly defending the party as the sickest of the sick. “You can’t get better on the West Coast, or possibly in the entire USA.”
“I’ve seen better . . . in Thailand.”
“Oh, I see . . .” He looked around nervously and licked his lips. “You’ll be wanting the Pleasure Dome.”
“That sounds more like it and where’s that?”
“You won’t get in there, partner, I’m telling you, I’ve been trying for years, it’s only whispered about, they think we don’t know, I stumbled in once by accident and I’m telling you it’s real. But I know people, if you know what I mean.” He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. “I could have a word, for a small fee, if you know what I’m saying?” He grinned broadly and slapped me on the back heartily.
I nodded agreeably as the man on the bed grunted and I felt bile rising in my throat, I needed to make this quick. “How much?”
“For an introduction? One hundred bucks.”
We shook on it and I peeled off five twenties for him. “There ya go,” I said, trying to make it seem like an insignificant amount, a mere drop in the ocean.
“Come go with me. I’ll make the introduction, but I think you’ll be talking close to mid-four figures for the prize. You have that sort of dough on you?”
“Sure,” I said casually.
“Whoa, ain’t you the flash one? What are you, a rockstar?”
“Yah.”
“I thought so, I recognized you. You’re that Australian guy, right?”
“Australian?!” Elvis said in alarm.
Sheldon chipped in. “Do we sound Australian?”
He continued. “You’re that fella from that Aussie band called –”
“No names,” I said sternly.
“My lips are sealed.” He made the sign of the zip. “Unlike his ass!” He roared at his puerile joke. “Come on, let’s go.”
He led me from the bedroom as the man on the bed bucked and writhed and I was worried about the safety of his internal organs.
The cowboy led me into the next room, which was in complete darkness. I’d been tricked, I thought, I was about to be mugged. I shuffled forward with my hands outstretched and felt a large breast. I pulled my hand away in shock. The room was hot and sweaty and smelled musty. I heard a moan and I pushed the cowboy forward. I thought this could be more his scene, although by his actions in the last room he was a watcher, rather than a doer, but the anonymity of the darkened room could suit his personality. The woman groaned more, as did the cowboy. Someone touched my bare ass and I turned swiftly and headbutted him and heard a satisfying ‘oof!’ followed by the sound of him hitting the floor. Someone else stumbled over him and landed heavily on him. I suddenly thought that logically it could have been a woman, there was just no way of knowing. Did he know I was a man? I hated the darkness and the way it disoriented me. I fumbled my way back to the door, tripped and tumbled onto the guy on the floor, my knees crushing his stomach. He moaned again, I stood, gave him a kick in passing and was out the door and sucked in large mouthfuls of clean air.
The cowboy came out shortly, zipping his fly. “You should have stayed in there, son. That’s one of my favorite rooms. I just had the blow job of the century.”
“That was quick, man.”
“Maybe so, but whoever it was sure the hell knew what they were doing.”
I said, “Y’know, it could’ve been a guy.”
“Well, who would know what a guy needs better than another guy, am I right!?” He chuckled to himself. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Don’t matter much to me. He or she could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. Hoo-wee.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, to change the subject.
“I’m looking for a particular guy. He’s usually in that room oftentimes.”
“How would ya know?”
“They call him Jumbo.”
“It was dark in there, how would ya – no, don’t tell me, I think I know.” Maaan, he was going to go around groping everyone until he recognized the size of his penis. Jesus! The sooner I’m out of here, the better.
“What did you do to your head?” he said and I realized I was bleeding from the headbutt.
“I walked into the wall.”
“Ouch!” he laughed. “Come on, I know where he’ll be.” He led me through another door, into a narrow, darkly lit corridor. This room, at least, I had heard of: it was a narrow room with glory holes on either side. Mostly women were down on their knees by waist-high holes on the wall. The cowboy strolled up and down inspecting and dismissing the normal-sized members. “Aha!” he said excitedly, sauntering to the end of the corridor. The cowboy tapped the girl attached to Jumbo and signaled for her to move. She seemed annoyed but I thought she might like to give her jaw a rest. The cowboy crouched by the hole, “Hey, Jumbo, it’s me, we’ve got a ‘live’ one.” I assumed he was talking about me and thought I was about to be played. We would have to wait and see.
Outside in the main corridor, the cowboy made the introductions and Jumbo had thankfully wrapped a towel around his waist and explained that I had a large bankroll for an invite into the Pleasure Dome. They told me to wait and they would come back to me. I leaned on the balustrade and looked down into the vast hallway at the main throng of party-goers enjoying themselves immensely. A youngish woman dressed as a maid approaching, she had her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. She wore the top half of a maid’s outfit and was naked from the waist down; she stopped near me but did not look me in the eye. “Would you like to touch me?” she asked in a small, quiet voice.
What do you say to that? “Nah, but thanks for asking,” I managed to answer and she looked as if she would cry.
She turned to go when a bald, sweaty, rotund man stopped her. “Assume the position,” he said and she placed her hands on her head and stood with her legs apart while his hands roamed freely, then smacked her on the butt and sent her on her way. I felt humiliated for her, but then realized that she was here of her own free will and this must be what she likes to do. I was having my eyes opened well and truly. I felt the blood run into my eyes from my headbutt wound. I removed my Ray-Bans and wiped it away. It seemed to be slowing up, which was good. I didn’t fancy a trip to the ER in my present get-up.
A skinny, wretched youth shuffled up to me nervously. His rat-like features needed a shave and he looked like he cut his own hair. His lip curled and I noticed teeth missing. I pegged him as a meth user. “Will yuh do that to me?” he asked in a hillbilly accent as he pointed at my head.
>
“What?”
“Beat me up?” the hillbilly asked, with a crooked smile.
“Huh?”
“I want yuh to beat me up.”
“Get outta my face, numbnuts.”
“Yuh cain’t refuse, that’s the way it works.”
“Why in God’s name would ya wanna be beaten up?”
“Don’t make fun of me. It’s what I like.” He put his hand out to shake which I took reluctantly. “Pleased to meet yuh. I’m Willy, most folks call me Hillbilly Willy, ’coz of my accent.”
This was the guy that had Bruce Matherson in such a panic. He could be worth watching. I lied and said, “Ya can hardly tell. So what do ya do around here?”
“We ain’t meant to say, it’s one of the rules. Now, will yuh hit me?”
“Find someone else.”
“I paid a lot of money to travel here to this party and yuh ain’t supposed to refuse.”
“A lot of money?” I asked. “Don’t ya think it’d have been better spent on therapists. Lots of therapists.”
“I like pain, there it is. Yuh look big and strong, I think yuh would do a good, thorough job.”
“I hit ya and that’s it?”
“That’s all I want. If yuh don’t, I’m telling.”
I thought it over, he was annoying and I’d enjoy it, but having discussed it with Elvis and Sheldon we decided not to. He was so frail one punch would snap him in two. “Go away,” I said, “Ya getting on my nerves.”
“Yuh can’t refuse. It’s a rule.”
“Get outta my face before I smack ya one.”
“But that’s what I want yuh to do,” he whined.
I looked up and down the corridor for Jumbo or the Cowboy and thought I might have kissed goodbye to my one hundred bucks, although it seemed such an elaborate plan for such a small sum of money.
The hillbilly whined on; his voice really irritated me.
“Finish him off, man,” said Elvis.
Even Sheldon said, “He did ask nicely.”
“Ya want me to knock ya unconscious in one punch?” I asked.
“Yuh could do that? One punch, really?”
On The Edge Page 14
