“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, touc
hé, 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? Eepay?”
“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.”
“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 dre
ssing 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.
The Good Life Page 8
