The Good Life

by Gordon Merrick

  He held the sweet-smelling little boy close to his chest and buried his face in Billy’s neck, breathing in his special odor. Perry’s throat was beginning to constrict, and his eyes misted over. He was suddenly afraid that he was squeezing the baby too hard. He had no idea he’d missed him so much.

  “You’re Mr. Langham?” the lady asked. “I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting you. That’s why I took so long answering the door. Excuse me.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Nanny Brown.”

  “How do you do?” Perry said, shifting Billy around in his arms to shake her hand. “What happened to Mademoiselle Suzanne?”

  “Married, I think. No chance of losing me for that.” They laughed easily together.

  “I wanted it to be a surprise. I hope I’m not interrupting your schedule.”

  “What?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “I said, I hoped I wasn’t upsetting the big boy’s routine.” Perry tickled him, and Billy squirmed to be let down.

  “Oh, dear me, no. No trouble. Come in.”

  She opened the door wide and ushered them back into the back garden where they’d been. There were swings and slides and a sandbox littered with an assortment of expensive toys.

  “What a layout you’ve got, young man. Come show me how everything works and what you can do with it all.” Billy led him, jumping up and down with excitement, down the stairs and into the maze of playthings. Perry spent the happiest hour he could remember, and when he left he told Nanny that he’d call Bet later.

  “I’ll come see him again tomorrow,” Perry said. “What’s the best time for you?”

  “Oh, anytime. Morning. After his lunch — he eats early — or after his nap. About 5. Don’t worry if I don’t come quickly to the door,” she said, smiling deprecatingly. “You see, I’m just a tiny bit deaf.”

  With nothing to do until dinnertime, he wandered the familiar streets and got the feeling that the short time away had caused some sort of rift between him and his adopted city. He felt alien here, or was New York a place you had to woo like a difficult woman?

  His new life in the military had completely absorbed him, and the old life now seemed remote and rather pointless. He was proud of the fact that he had adapted so well to the new system and liked the healthy competition where merit was conspicuously rewarded by advancement and privilege. It was so simple and straightforward, no hidden motives to take into account. It was healthy, and he knew that he was one of the outstanding members of his group of trainees and had already been virtually assured of a chance at a commission.

  There were training opportunities in fields that would be useful in a civilian life later. Having been an officer in the Royal Canadian Air Force wouldn’t equal a Harvard degree, but it would count for something. Of course, having a rich wife was no drawback either. He’d made a very wise move. By working hard and making a success of his career in the Air Force, every dubious aspect of his past would slowly be erased. When the war was over, he’d have an identifiable status. He would be somebody, somebody Bet could be proud of— and Little Billy too.

  Near Johnny’s apartment he spotted a plush elephant in a toy shop and bought it to take to Billy the next day.

  “Lonely in the barracks, is it?” Johnny inquired when he saw the stuffed animal. “Don’t any of those recruits leap into your bunk to keep you warm?”

  “It’s going to be a long, cold winter. This is just in case none of the recruits leaps into my bunk.”

  Johnny was packing a small bag to go to Connecticut for the night, and they had a quick drink together before he had to catch his train. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve just got time for another quickie. Good.”

  “I want to give Bet a call before she starts out on her nightly rounds,” Perry said. “Excuse me a minute.”

  He went to the living room and rang her. Her manner on the phone was a slap in the face. She answered in monosyllables or grunts. His call was anything but welcome. He couldn’t remember why he had been feeling so optimistic when they said good-bye. She seemed to have discovered that she liked his being away. Here, he was in the way. She made him feel that his joining her and her date for dinner would cause her considerable pain but that he could do so if he had nothing better to do. She made him sound as welcome as a leper.

  They finally agreed that he and Madge would join them for a drink at the Barbary Room in about an hour. If he hadn’t felt it important for them to at least see each other, he’d have turned down that reluctant invitation altogether.

  “Who’s Tony Caliani?” he asked Johnny when they sat with their second drinks. “The name sounds like a bootlegger.”

  “You must know him,” Johnny said. “You will when you see him. In spite of his name, he was a football star at Harvard a few years ago. His family set him up in his own advertising agency on Madison Avenue. Loaded. I’ve heard Bet’s been seeing a lot of him recently.”

  “Good-looking in a beefy sort of way?”

  “That’s right. Not my type, dear. But seems to be Bet’s. Winchell’s even mentioned them in his column in that cutesy bit about who’s exchanging rings. Revolting. I really must leave you. My man’s here to cater to your every whim. Ever so jolly to have you here. A pity this place is so cavernous. There’s no excuse for me to cuddle up with you. But you have your elephant. Love to Bet. None to Tony. Come again whenever you please.”

  Perry recognized Tony Caliani immediately when he and Madge were shown to his table. He had known him casually.

  As introductions were made and greetings exchanged, Perry felt awkward sitting down with Bet under these circumstances. He felt like a distant cousin passing through town.

  Bet was a bit more cordial than she had been on the phone, but Tony was firmly established at her side, unobtrusively possessive and obviously infatuated. Were they planning to exchange rings?

  Perry was alert to danger signals. He wanted to give her her head, but he didn’t want to give her away completely. On his next leave he must find an opportunity to take charge of her again and remind her that he was still her husband and intended to remain so.

  “How fascinating to see you in uniform,” Bet said, reaching across the table to take his hand. “That blue is much more becoming than our GI khaki.”

  “This one’s sort of drab, but wait till you see me if I get a commission. I’ll be stunning.” He could tell by the touch of her hand that the gesture was not meant for him but for whatever effect she wanted it to have on Tony.

  “If you’re any more stunning,” Madge put in, “you’ll have everybody fainting in your wake.”

  They all laughed, and Perry had a chance to study Tony. He already was feeling the superiority of the military uniform. Being a big shot on Madison Avenue couldn’t count as essential war service. He’d have liked to dismiss him as competition, but there was something about him that put Perry on his guard.

  Perry gave Bet’s hand a little squeeze and kept his eyes on her, but she withdrew without looking at him. Her expression remained neutral. He felt a little sinking sensation around his heart, a tremor of dread. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand. Would he regret having locked himself up in the Air Force for the foreseeable future?

  “Bet wasn’t exactly fainting in your wake, was she?” Madge pointed out as they got into a cab to go on to their restaurant.

  “No smelling salts needed by anybody in the Barbary Room as far as I could tell.”

  “Barbarians, all,” Madge said majestically, making them both laugh. “Perhaps the floor will be littered at ‘21.’ ”

  “I assume you mean with bodies?” he said, and they laughed again.

  Bet wasn’t awake yet when he went to see Billy the next morning, and he didn’t dare disturb her. There was always the next time.

  In less than a month he was able to take another weekend in New York. As before, he went to see Billy first thing on arrival. And as before, Bet was out, and Nanny Brown reported that she wouldn’t be back until late that night.
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  “Nanny, Nanny, Nanny. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Billy chanted delightedly, tugging them both to go to the garden. He suddenly stopped in the hall and turned to Perry. “Where th’ elepan?” He grabbed at Perry’s coat and slapped his pockets. “Wan’ elepan.”

  “Oh, he’s sharp as a tack,” Nanny beamed proudly.

  “You’re doing a good job with him,” Perry said.

  “What?” Her hearing had gotten worse.

  Perry repeated the compliment, and they spent a boisterous time in the garden.

  When Billy called to Nanny, she often didn’t hear, and Perry wondered if it was a good idea to leave the baby alone with her. She seemed devoted to the child, so perhaps he shouldn’t worry.

  When Perry left, he promised to bring Billy another “elepan” the next day.

  The toy shop near Johnny’s place was fresh out of elephants, so Perry settled for a comic giraffe.

  “You’re an embarrassment,” Johnny remarked when Perry entered the apartment with another ridiculous beast.

  “I know. One of my barracks mates fell in love with the other one. I had to give it up.”

  “Well, put that silly thing out of sight. I assume they’re for Little Billy?”

  “Of course. He was in a snit today because I didn’t bring him another. I’ll take this around tomorrow morning.”

  “He’s too beautiful. Don’t let him turn into a spoiled brat. Nothing more loathsome than a whining, demanding child.”

  “My son? Never.”

  Perry and Johnny had a wild night on the town. They went to every club where they thought they might run into Bet or some of her crowd but found themselves finally quite drunk barhopping the gay bars along Third Avenue early in the morning.

  “Faggots en masse are too depressing. Let’s go home,” Johnny suggested, and Perry immediately agreed.

  Perry slept late the next morning and just had time for a quick shave before dashing out to see Billy. He was afraid Billy would be having his lunch or his nap and he’d have to wait around. He didn’t want to run into Bet. He couldn’t imagine why he’d spent so much time looking for her last night. He’d written her that he was coming and hoped to see her but told her not to make any special plans. He was still giving her her head.

  By the time he got to Beekman Place, he’d worked up quite a sweat by practically running all the way carrying the awkward animal. He rang and rang and waited and waited. Nanny Brown must have gone completely deaf. Finally he used his key, figuring that if Bet had been there, she’d have answered the door herself by now.

  The house felt empty. He called tentatively before actually going inside the hall and walked quickly down it to check the back garden. It was as empty as the house felt. It was strange being in what he still thought of as his own house but feeling like a burglar. He had to consciously stop himself from tiptoeing cautiously and forced himself to move with purpose.

  And the purpose was a beer. His hangover and his run had made him thirsty, and he went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of beer and stood drinking it straight from the bottle. The Air Force had taught him many things. He could imagine Laszlo and the crew of the Belle Époque frowning in disapproval.

  He finished the first beer and opened another, sipping it more slowly as he wandered through the dining room and up the stairs into the living room. It looked like home. There were his photographs on top of the baby grand. His Graham Sutherland still hung over the bar table. He and Bet had agreed that his nude portrait would cause less comment — or, more likely, stunned, embarrassed silence — if it were hung in their bedroom. “Besides,” Bet had laughed, “I don’t want everyone who comes here to see what they’re missing.”

  Perry suddenly had an urge to see the picture. How would it measure up next to him now? His newly hardened muscles ought to compare favorably with that youth he could hardly remember ever existing — that youth pushing a chair at the World’s Fair and arriving breathless and full of expectation for that first sitting with Bet’s father.

  On the next landing he paused and listened intently at the door of Billy’s room to make sure that nobody was there. He opened the door silently and got a whiff of the extraordinary smell that was Billy. He drank it in. It was the cleanest smell he’d ever known. He held his breath so that he wouldn’t contaminate the air with the exhalation of stale beer as he carefully propped up the stuffed toy on Billy’s bed.

  Going on up the stairs, he again found himself moving with catlike grace, barely touching the floor, creeping soundlessly along the corridor like an intruder toward Bet’s — no, their door, damn it; it was still his too — where he listened intently again. The emptiness of the house was almost audible.

  The smell from the top-floor bedroom when he opened the door was heavy with perfume. The room was in the usual disarray he associated with a hasty exit by Bet. He could almost hear her anguished cry of “Oh, God, I’m late!” hanging in the air. He moved automatically to pick up her clothes and put them away but stopped himself before touching anything. He was an outsider. Mustn’t touch.

  He took another swig from the bottle and turned slowly to look at his portrait. For some reason he thought it might have been removed, but there it was. There he was as Billy saw him. Perry was mesmerized and drawn to the painting. The memory of Billy adjusting his hand just so, ordering him to bend his knee like that was so vivid that he could hear Billy’s voice.

  He remembered now how he’d started to get a hard-on and was afraid he’d ruin the pose. He smiled up at his cock. It really was something. Staring at his cock immortalized on canvas made the real one stir. Was he really like that?

  Without taking his eyes off the picture, he put his bottle on the chest of drawers and took off his jacket, feeling behind him for a chair to toss it onto. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it out of his trousers and off his shoulders with sensual deliberation. Unfastening his belt and undoing his fly caused his cock to throb and stretch. He giggled. I’m doing a striptease for myself, he thought.

  By glancing to his right, he could see himself reflected in the full-length closet mirror. This was fun; there were three of him. He could have a threesome. Like the ones he and Bet and Timmy had had, only he’d have to play each part.

  Bending to untie his shoes brought his face close to his cock. “Why, hello there,” he said aloud and glanced quickly around behind him. What if somebody caught him doing this outrageous pantomime? They could have him locked up. He squatted to get at his shoes more easily and to get his cock out of his sight.

  With shoes off he straightened and slid the trousers slowly down over his hips, moving them slightly with his arms stretched above his head in a parody of a stripper. He kicked the pants away from him.

  He didn’t know where to look. The mirror held him for a moment, but his attention was drawn again to the painting. Billy had painted him with almost a hard-on. It really was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He ran his hands over his chest and slowly down over his abdomen, as flat now as it was in the picture, and watched his hands in the mirror. By taking two steps back, he could get both the painting and the mirror in his range of vision, which caused him to take a deep intake of breath, stunned by what he saw.

  His hands felt real flesh; his eyes saw hands on real flesh; the canvas became a third mirror, and he thought for a moment that it too had started to move. The hand on his thigh in the picture seemed to move toward his cock, and his painted cock seemed to grow. He could see all three of them at once, and his hands became so uncontrollable, they moved down to his cock, stroking the pubic hair beside it and slowly moving along it until he held it gently with both hands. It filled them and ached for release.

  He moved one hand to his balls and cupped them as the other hand started to move with practiced ease on his hardened flesh. His head dropped back, and for a moment he thought he was going to come. He straightened and took a deep breath, filling his vision with the sight of himself — all three magnificent cocks straining beautifu
lly with potency.

  What the hell, he thought, why not? Why not make himself come?

  His hands started to move on himself more purposefully. His buttocks tightened, and his hips thrust forward. He could see all his muscles, all trained and sleek from recent physical training, rippling in the mirror, taut and defined in a more perfected, mature way than in the portrait.

  He looked so cool in the painting — so in charge but virginal. He was just a young man naked on a chaise longue, beautiful but a bit vapid. It wasn’t lewd; it was just a study of youth. He felt ancient now by comparison.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw himself again in the mirror and thought he looked perfectly ridiculous. What a silly thing jerking off was. He let out a hoot of laughter at the sight he made pounding at his cock and threw it out of his hand as though it burned him.

  He stiffened again with apprehension. Had he heard something? Voices? A door slam? Could it be Bet? Perhaps Nanny and Little Billy? It would probably amuse Nanny to find him in front of a mirror masturbating.

  He was blushing like Timmy as he fled to the bathroom, his cock swinging crazily in front of him. He slid the glass door to the shower stall open and jumped into it. He could explain taking a quick shower more easily than he could a narcissistic hand job in front of his portrait, even to Bet.

  With the water running, he was cut off from any sounds in the house until the bathroom door was flung open and he heard a scream. It was Bet.

  “Jesus Christ!” she called out to him. “You scared the bejesus out of me. What the fuck are you doing in there anyway?”

  “Taking a shower,” he called back.

  “Well, turn your back, I’ve got to pee.”

  He got a glimpse of her flipping up the back of her heavy mink coat, pulling up her skirt, and squatting on the toilet. In her broad-brimmed hat, smart dress, high heels with panties dangling over them, and jewelry flashing at her ears and throat, she was about as ridiculous-looking as he’d been naked in front of the mirror.