“He’s another English guy,” Eric explained, “do you want to ask him about Adrian?”
“No,” I said, “that’s OK.”
Eric shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let’s go say hello to the host.”
He dragged me across to the doorway of the butt hut. The girl standing in the entrance had a large glass bowl into which she was depositing collected five-spots.
“Terry, I’d like you to meet . . .”
“Candi.”
The girl looked at me, shocked.
“No, dude, this is Lisa.”
It was Candi. After Helen’s disappearance from the Butt Hutt site, I had spent many nights masturbating to my printouts of Candi, and didn’t need to see her poking a pen into her private places to know I had the right girl.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “my mistake.”
We went inside the hut and Eric scooped us both a glass of the blue stuff. Lisa kept looking at me, and I couldn’t help worrying that I’d blown my cover too early. I was also anxious that I wasn’t taking this whole thing seriously enough. After all, even if the very least these people had to worry about was being kicked out of college I’d spent enough time around Eric to know that was a pretty big deal. I tapped Eric on the shoulder.
“Is Lisa going to be collecting money all night?”
He grinned. “Unless some poor sap takes over for her.”
“Eric?”
“Yes, Terry?”
“Would you be that poor sap for me?”
“Oh,” he said, “you wanna talk to Lisa?” He looked around, then smiled and nudged me, “OK, but not for long.”
“Sure,” I said, “thanks.”
Eric walked over to Lisa, took the bowl, and pointed in my direction. I smiled, and she walked across.
“What was your name again?”
“Terry. Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Why would I be embarrassed about you getting my name wrong?”
“Right. I just wanted to say that I’m a friend of Adrian’s and a big fan of your site.”
Her mouth opened and she looked at me again. Shit. Why had I said that? Another stupid mistake.
“You?” she said slowly. “A friend of Adrian’s? I don’t think so.”
“OK, I’m not really his friend, but I know some people he knew in England.”
“Look, Terry, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I don’t think you realise what you’re getting yourself into. And if you don’t want to take my word for it, stick around and let Adrian warn you himself. Only don’t expect him to be so nice about it.”
Shooting me one last look, Lisa turned away and walked back across to Eric, angrily tugging the dollar-filled bowl away from him. He looked back at me, shrugged, and came over.
“Got shot down, did you? Don’t worry, Terry, she’s like that with everyone.” He paused. “Except Adrian.”
“Is she going out with him?”
“Oh no, I don’t think so. She’s probably fucked him once or twice, but then again so has almost every girl on campus. Let’s go outside.”
I followed Eric out of the already humid hut and joined the revellers on the grass outside. The English guy and his bald friend were still arguing about something, and after a few minutes of watching them I realised the source of the conflict was that the English guy didn’t really want to be here. A few of the men outside smiled at Eric, but no one seemed interested in talking to him.
I was still checking the girls’ faces for any other representatives from the Butt Hutt site. But most of the girls looked more likely to appear on some nihilistic bondage site. It seemed strange that the students of such an elite institution would go for an outdated fashion-phase like goth in such a big way, but maybe that was their form of rebellion. I also wondered why Adrian didn’t have a goth hut on his site, as I’m sure he would have got plenty of volunteers, and that the girls would’ve thought it a totally punk thing to do.
I sat down next to one of the goth girls. Unlike most of the goths I’d seen in England, who seemed to take to that fashion as if it was the only way of making themselves sexy, most of these girls seemed gorgeous. The girl I’d sat next to could’ve passed for a film star if it wasn’t for the purple hair.
“Hi, I’m Terry,” I said, holding out my hand.
She laughed, and then said something to her friend. I couldn’t work out what she said because she covered her mouth with her hand. The friend, who was slightly overweight and wearing a black lace dress leaned in to ask me, “Are you a friend of Eric’s?”
I looked up at Eric, who looked embarrassed and on the verge of tears. “Am I your friend, Eric?”
He nodded, moving back and forth on the spot as if he needed to urinate.
“We met over the Internet,” I explained. “I’m from England.”
“Duh,” said the girl next to me. Her friends laughed.
“Come on, Terry,” Eric said, looking from side to side and pulling at my shoulder.
“What?” I asked.
“They don’t like me.”
“Who doesn’t like you?” I asked. “These girls? That’s not true, is it?”
I looked round their faces, enjoying the feeling of being back in control after Lisa had embarrassed me. Then I looked up at Eric.
“Sit down, Eric.”
He shook his head. “I’ll get some drinks. You want another drink, don’t you?”
“Thanks, Eric, that would be lovely.”
The girls handed over their empty cups, although I was fairly certain they were only doing it for the entertainment of watching Eric struggle back with so many drinks. I sensed the girls were beginning to relax in my company, so I asked, “Why don’t you like Eric?”
The lace girl laughed. “We don’t like anybody.”
Isobel arrived at midnight. It was dark and I only noticed her because she was on Adrian’s arm. Everyone at the party was in a hurry to greet him, rushing over to pat his shoulder. Eric had been completely wrong about Adrian’s appearance. He looked nothing like James Spader. Instead, he looked like a cross between Malcolm MacLaren and John Lydon, albeit clad in a stained blue blazer. He had a shock of bright red hair, like a punk Tintin, and white, almost translucent skin.
I waited until the greetings had finished, then went over to say hello to Isobel. Adrian raised an eyebrow at her, and she introduced me.
“Adrian, this is my friend, Terry, the one I told you about.”
“Ah, Terry,” he said in a fruity English accent, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
After being seen with Adrian, my stock rose considerably. Lisa came back across to me and told me that her real name was Lisa, not Candi, although it was her in the pictures. I told her she was my favourite butt hutt babe, and then asked her what would be showing on the site tonight.
“Oh, it’s Amber’s night tonight,” she said. “She’s doing a home alone thing.”
“Didn’t she want to come to the party?”
“Yeah, but she needs the money. And Adrian’s paying her double tonight.”
We talked for a little while longer, and then Lisa invited me to a private party at Adrian’s place. It wasn’t due to start until two, but she promised me it’d be lots of fun.
“There’ll be, y’know,” she said, gently tapping the side of her nose, “and Adrian’s got a hot tub.”
The party had thinned out considerably by two, but Adrian was still careful to make sure we didn’t pick up any uninvited guests. Eric had left at about midnight, after we’d had a brief argument. He told me that he needed seven hours sleep a night and couldn’t stay any longer because he had breakfast commitments. I told him I understood, but still wanted to stay.
“Can’t you leave a window open?”
“No way, Terry, I can’t do that. Not with all my equipment.”
“But Princeton seems a pretty safe place.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “why don’t yo
u come back with me?”
“Because I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
“Give it up, Terry. She already shot you down once.”
“Things are different now I’m friends with Adrian.”
“Let him put you up then. I’m sorry, buddy, I’ll see you in the morning.”
I wasn’t too worried, knowing that Adrian’s party was likely to last all night. But I did feel a little nervous now that I no longer had an escape route, especially as I knew I wasn’t really in the same league as Adrian and Isobel, and worried that they might use this fact to humiliate me in some way.
“How are you doing?” Adrian asked as he sidled up alongside me. “Still up for another party?”
“Of course.”
He patted my shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”
“Which way is it?”
“Hang on a mo. Lisa’s just rounding up the stragglers.”
We turned and watched Lisa talking to two women and the skinny English guy. I was surprised that he’d been chosen for this select gathering, especially after his earlier protestations to his bald friend.
“Who’s that guy?”
“Glenn? President of the Rocket Society. That’s an unofficial position, of course. Why? Do you know him?”
“No, no, I’m just surprised he’s coming. He seemed very reluctant about the party earlier.”
“My party?” Adrian asked, frowning.
“No, the blue drinks do.”
“Oh, that’s just his way. And I expect he didn’t want to upset Donald.”
“Who’s Donald? The bald guy?”
Adrian nodded. “The two of them are very close.”
I hadn’t realised how tired I was until we started walking to Adrian’s. I suppose it wasn’t that surprising, given that I’d now been up for almost twenty-four hours straight. I tend to always run on New York time, even when I’m in England. But the flight and excitement (and, oddly, the fresh air, not to mention the blue cocktails) had taken it out of me, and I could feel myself starting to flag. My eyes were closing when I felt someone take my hand.
“Tired?” Isobel asked.
“Exhausted. Aren’t you?”
She nodded. “But I’m too excited to back out now. And I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”
“What happened to Wendy?”
“I’ve no idea. When I went to the address she gave me there was no sign of her. And no one I’ve spoken to seems to know who she is. Apparently, there’s no one with her name at Princeton. The whole thing must’ve been a hoax.”
“Probably some horny guy pretending to be a girl.”
“I suppose so. It was stupid of me not to be more careful about checking her out.”
“How did you find Adrian?”
“He found me,” she giggled.
“Really?”
“Yes, it was ridiculous. I got off the bus and there he was. And, of course, he started trying it on straight away.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d be more than happy to be a butt hut babe. Apparently an opening’s just about to come up.”
She released my hand and skipped over to Adrian. We’d reached the road now, and began walking towards the main streets where Eric had taken me to eat earlier. I looked over at Lisa and she smiled back at me.
“Not far now,” she said, “and I promise you it’ll be worth it.”
Adrian strode into his home, immediately heading for the dining room. The rest of us followed and stood in an awkward cluster at the far end of his large table. He rang a small bell and two maids appeared. They were both attractive women with long dark hair, dressed in a uniform that left their breasts and buttocks exposed. I chuckled to myself, thinking that Adrian had probably watched Story of O more often than was good for him.
“Champagne, everyone? I know I need something to wash away the taste of that horrible Harpic. Now does anyone want something more substantial to eat? Say now, because I predict in a short while you’re all about to lose your appetite.”
I looked up at him, feeling scared. Then I saw him bring out a small vial from his blazer and relaxed. I had no problem with drugs. Or sex, for that matter. But I’ve always shied away from violence, and hate it when S&M gets too serious.
We sat at the table, waiting while Adrian prepared the lines. I took this opportunity to check out the other two women that Lisa had brought back from the butt huts. They didn’t look like they were the stars of his site, although it was true that I didn’t remember the exact appearance of every girl.
The maids returned. On closer inspection I realised that one of the maids was blindfolded. She was the one with the bottle. The other girl arranged the glasses and guided the blindfolded girl’s hand as she poured on the champagne. Adrian looked up from his chopping and smiled at this, before checking that everyone else was enjoying the performance.
“OK,” he said, “who wants to go first? Terry?”
He passed the tile to me and I took out a ten-dollar bill from my pocket. Adrian noticed and shook his head.
“Oh no,” he said, “there’s a straw there. And you’re the first to use it so there’s nothing to worry about.”
I picked up the thin straw and snorted the line. Aware that everyone was watching me, and wanting to make a good impression, I dabbed my fingers on the small crumb that was left and rubbed it on my gums.
“Jolly good,” said Adrian. “Isobel?”
She snorted a line, and then passed it across to the skinny English guy. He grimaced.
“Problem, Glenn?” Adrian asked.
“No,” he said, leaning down to snort the line.
The tile went round the table, and ended up with Adrian. He chopped out some more lines and it went round again. Two more times and I was feeling awake again, and oddly enthusiastic to see what happened next.
“OK, everyone,” said Adrian, “how about a game?”
Lisa laughed. “Perfect.”
“It’s a very tame game, but seeing as we do have two new people with us tonight, I think it’ll serve as a very good way of breaking the ice. It’s a Swedish game, although for some reason it’s called The Russian Post Office, Now, the rules are very simple, although we should probably move into the sitting room if we’re going to have enough space to play.”
Adrian stood up. Everyone else copied him, giggling and smiling at each other. He took Isobel’s hand and pulled her behind him. The two maids retreated and I sensed that’d be the last we’d see of them for the evening. We walked through into the other room, which looked like Tony Scott’s idea of an opium den, with billowy curtains with a fan behind them and cushions for everyone to lie out on.
“Music?” Adrian asked, as he walked across to the stereo. He placed three new CDs in a multidisc carousel and then brought the remote back with him as he sat down.
“Lisa,” he said, “would you like to explain the game?”
She stood up, brushing a hand down over her top and looking at me. “What happens is, we each take turns to be the postman. The postman goes outside and knocks on the door. He then says he has a delivery. Adrian then asks him what sort of delivery he has. The delivery can be a kiss, which is just a kiss, a French kiss, a touch-up, which is a touch-up under the clothes, or a hamburger, which is where the postman lies on top of the chosen person and makes out with them, but is not allowed to do anything under the clothes.”
“You missed a bit,” Adrian told her.
“Hang on, I was getting to that. When the person knocks, Adrian also has to ask who the delivery is for. He points at a person at random and says, ‘is it for this person?’ and then moves round the room until the postman says yes.”
“OK,” said Adrian, “Glenn, you’ve played this before. Why don’t you start us off?”
Glenn smiled and got to his feet. He went outside the door and ended up giving a hamburger to Isobel. Although she was perfectly willing, the way they arranged themselves on the floor was awkward and he ended up
kneeing her in the crotch.
“Christ,” she said, pushing him off.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, immediately standing up, “shit.”
Adrian laughed. “OK, Lisa, your turn.”
Lisa stood up and went behind the door. Adrian’s head was lolling backwards. The maids had left two or three bottles of champagne and I refilled his glass. Lisa knocked.
“Yes?” Adrian called out.
“I have a delivery,” she replied.
“What sort of delivery?”
“A touch-up.”
“Ah,” said Adrian, “but who’s it for?” He pointed to Isobel. “Is it for this person?”
“No.”
He pointed to one of the girls. “This person?”
“No.”
He pointed at me. “This person?”
“Yes,” she said, and opened the door.
We played The Russian Post Office for about an hour, by which time everyone had been comprehensively kissed and groped by everyone else. The only awkward moment came when I had to deliver a hamburger to Adrian, mainly because I didn’t want him to know I wasn’t really into it. After the last time round, Adrian said,
“OK, that’s enough. Who wants to stay and fuck?”
Everyone did apart from one of the girls, who chose this moment to leave. This evened the numbers, but seemed surprising given that we could’ve easily coped with another woman. Unless she didn’t like the look of the men on offer.
The six of us went through to Adrian’s hot tub. He’d prepared some more lines and we did those before stripping and climbing into the water. Adrian looked at my erection and smiled at me as I slid into the tub. He had his arm around Isobel and was absent-mindedly stroking the tips of her nipples. There was something lazily proprietorial about this gesture that really irritated me, even though my claim on Isobel was slight. I knew I should be more excited about being coked up in a hot tub in America, seconds away from sex with an amateur porn star. But my libido was dulled by the fact that I’d also have to witness a woman who’d become one of my best friends being fucked by a gamy English pervert. There was also the worry of safety, as no one seemed about to put on a condom. I looked at Lisa as she moved through the bubbling water, trying to convince myself I was getting a fair trade. She had a better body than Isobel, muscular without being off-putting. But it was her smile that really got me excited; the look in her eyes that reminded me of the girls in my high school that I’d lusted after but never actually fucked.
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