(1987) The Celestial Bed

by Irving Wallace

  He began to move inside her steadily, deeply.

  ‘Keep going, Chet,’ she said.

  He kept going.

  ‘Gayle, I — I — ’

  ‘You’re allowed,’ she called up cheerfully.

  It was a noisy and extended orgasm.

  He fell off her like he’d been shot. ‘That was a beaut,’ he said breathlessly.

  She grinned. ‘We call it a mature ejaculation. Now, let’s rest.’

  After a short time, she crawled off the mat, and threw on her robe. ‘I’m going to wash up, then go to the kitchen and get us something refreshing. Will tea do?’

  ‘Anything will do, sweetie,’ he replied.

  When she returned with tea for both of them, he sat up on the couch to sip from his cup, and she sat beside him. He was bubbling with enthusiasm. ‘I actually don’t need any refreshment,’ he said. ‘I already had mine. You’re really a wonder, Gayle. You actually made me go all the way. How long was it before I came?’

  ‘Seven minutes.’

  ‘Think of that! Fantastic’ Abruptly, his expression darkened. ‘Only I wish I could have done it without the squeeze.’

  ‘You’re going to, my friend,’ she said with a smile, setting down her teacup, and rising to slip out of her robe. ‘Because this time we’re going to do it — no hands, see. All the way without a squeeze.’

  ‘You’re not satisfied with seven minutes?’

  ‘I am, sure. But I’m not letting you out of here, on your own in the cruel outside world, until you’ve penetrated me for at least ten

  minutes. You will. And then I’ll let you go, much to my loss. So let’s get started, Chet.’

  About to turn on her shower that evening, still high over her twin triumphs this day, Gayle thought she heard the doorbell. She saw that it was close to ten o’clock, the time that Paul Brandon was due to arrive.

  Momentarily abandoning the shower, Gayle pulled on her silk robe and started out of the bathroom.

  She was filled with anticipation. For days their relationship had misfired. Until now, each of them had been occupied and preoccupied with the needs of others. The others had been repaired. Tonight, unfettered, they would at last be able to fulfil themselves.

  Outside the bathroom, Gayle could hear the key turning in the lock of the front door.

  She could see Brandon entering the living room, and her excitement mounted. She waited for him. They met in the hallway and embraced lovingly.

  ‘How are you, my darling?’ she wanted to know as she led him to the bedroom and helped him discard his jacket.

  ‘Thrilled to be alone with you at last.’ While he unbuttoned his shirt, she unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. ‘A bit bushed, though,’ he added. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘For me, too,’ she admitted. ‘How did it go with Nan? Did Dr Freeberg make it easier for you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she was no real problem.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes and then his socks. ‘Actually, she was reasonable throughout.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Totally professional throughout,’ said Brandon, taking off his trousers. ‘And you, what about you? Did you graduate both your patients, or just one?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘They succeeded with you at last?’

  ‘They did, thank God.’

  Brandon eased off his jock shorts. ‘You must be tired by now.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘After four hours with them? I’m surprised you can still stand.’

  ‘Not that strenuous. Remember, they’re patients. At best they

  don’t have that much endurance. If I’m tired at all, it’s because of the stress. After all those sessions, well, when you come to the last one you keep worrying whether all you’ve done will work out. That’s where the tension is for me.’

  ‘But it worked out. You’re finished with them now?’

  ‘Completely.’ She studied him. ‘You’re the one who’s bushed. You’re bushed from one patient?’

  ‘Don’t forget, Nan was my first patient. It’s like you said, there’s a lot of tension. Look, Gayle, let’s forget about the others. We’re done with them. Let’s concentrate on loving each other.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  He reached out his arms to take her in them.

  She backed off. ‘Get into bed, Paul, and wait for me. I’ve got to go back in the bathroom to take my shower. It’ll just be a jiffy.’ She turned away. ‘Wait for me, Paul.’

  ‘Hungrily. Don’t be long.’

  She smiled. ‘It won’t be long, and it’ll be worth it.’

  She saw him stretching out on the bed as she left the room.

  The shower was wonderful, like a ritual beginning of a new life. Once she’d shut it off, and dried, she busied herself applying cologne to her body, and after that dabbed matching perfume behind her ears and in the cleavage between her breasts.

  Leaving her robe behind, she walked to the bedroom. His lean body was still stretched on the bed.

  She couldn’t wait to arouse him, to have him, to love him at last.

  Hastening to the bed, she swung onto it and dropped down beside him.

  He did not move.

  She lifted herself slightly to peer down at him. His eyes were closed in sleep. He was snoring intermittently and the sounds were hardly audible. But they were there.

  Poor dear, she told herself, he’s fallen sound asleep.

  Yet she did not mind, because she understood. He’d had a draining and exhilarating day, and so had she, and she wanted to rest and sleep, too.

  She cuddled down beside him, arm over him, enjoying the warmth and closeness of his smooth skin.

  She yawned and felt herself sinking into sleep.

  There was time enough for them to make love in the morning.

  They would be refreshed. They would be ready. They had the next day. And the day after. Countless days.

  She knew it would be the most memorable lovemaking in her entire life. She only wanted to make him happy. She only wanted to …

  Right now she only wanted to sleep, and she slept.

  Returning to his apartment, after his final session with his surrogate, Chet Hunter felt like he was walking on air.

  He wanted to call and report to Suzy, but he knew he was too tired to undertake such excitement and the possibility that she might want to come right over to be with him. In his condition, exhaustion underpinned by exhilaration, he wanted only to cap off his success by having a strong drink of whisky alone.

  But even before he could go into the pantry for his bottle, he realised that there was something else he must do first. There was one call he must make. The Reverend Josh Scrafield would be waiting impatiently for the results of the last session, waiting to hear if penetration had been achieved with Gayle. Scrafield would be dying to know if Hunter had fulfilled their agreement and if they were finally in business.

  Hunter sat down by his living room telephone and quickly dialled Scrafield. A woman answered, and seconds later the minister was on the phone.

  ‘It’s you, Chet?’ Scrafield asked edgily.

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Well?’

  Hunter pressed closer to the mouthpiece of the telephone, and he said in a confidential voice, ‘I made it, Reverend. I just now made it.’

  ‘You did it to her?’

  ‘Twice. Positively.’

  Scrafield seemed unable to believe the good news. ‘The play-for-pay girl, you stuck it in her?’

  ‘I sure did.’

  Hunter heard Scrafield exhale into the phone. Scrafield said, ‘As a bona fide police reserve officer, you’ll swear to what you’re telling me?’

  ‘I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles. I’ve even got the tape.’

  ‘Good boy!’

  ‘I haven’t got it on paper yet,’ said Hunter, ‘because I’m whipped.’

  ‘She gave you a workout, did she?’

  ‘And how. Anyway, I’l
l write it all up the first thing in the morning. I guess I should call Hoyt Lewis and Ferguson — ’

  ‘Never mind, I’ll take care of them,’ Scrafield interrupted. ‘I’ll call Ferguson first - and then I’ll call the DA at home, even if I have to wake him. I’ll let him know you did it, you have the proof, and we’re in go position.’

  ‘That should do it for Hoyt Lewis, shouldn’t it?’

  ‘There’ll be no stopping him from now on. You finish your part of it the minute you get up in the morning. Write down the whole story, every juicy detail, complete your journal on Freeberg and the Millar woman, and bring everything you have to Hoyt Lewis as soon as possible. Good work, Chet. Glad you got it up when it counted. We’ll have that pimp Freeberg, and his little hooker, behind bars before you know it. Stupendous!’

  Hanging up, Hunter knew he had suffered one twinge. When Scrafield had referred to Gayle as a hooker. The viciousness of it gave him a moment of discomfort. But what the hell, business was business.

  He could hardly wait for morning, when he’d finish his story, tell Suzy what had happened, and then deliver the goods.

  In a self-congratulatory mood, he lifted himself out of his armchair, and started for his pantry to mix himself a strong, strong double Scotch and soda.

  Brandon awakened first, trying to clear his head and recall what had happened last night, and then was aware that he was not alone. There was Gayle, snuggled beside him, and coming awake.

  He drew her tightly against him. ‘At last - ‘ he began.

  The telephone behind her began to ring loudly.

  ‘Let it go,’ he whispered.

  She stretched to squint over his shoulder at the bedside clock. ‘I can’t,’ she said regretfully. ‘It’s eight thirty. Only Dr Freeberg calls this early. I have to answer, Paul’

  Reaching behind her, she found the receiver.

  The caller was Dr Freeberg. ‘Gayle,’ he said, ‘I have to speak to you — ’

  ‘Do you want me to come to the clinic?’

  ‘No. I mean, right now. Are you free to talk?’ He paused. ‘Are you alone?’

  She glanced at Brandon, his expression a frown, and she said hesitantly, ‘Not — not quite, Dr Freeberg. I’m with Paul - Paul Brandon.’

  ‘No problem. He’s family. I have something I must tell you.’

  ‘You sound upset,’ said Gayle, sitting up, covering her breasts with the top of the blanket. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I am upset, and with good reason,’ Dr Freeberg went on. ‘Listen to me, and listen carefully. I’ve just been arrested. The police are outside, waiting to —’

  Gayle was astounded. ‘You — you what? Did you say arrested?’

  ‘Yes, for pandering. It’s something that was a possibility and I should have told you about it, but I didn’t because I was assured it would go no further. I didn’t want to unduly alarm you or the others. But it happened just now, and I thought I’d better tell you before — ’

  ‘They’re taking you to jail?’

  ‘To be booked first.’

  Brandon was shaking Gayle’s arm. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded to know.

  Gayle covered the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘Dr Freeberg’s been arrested for pandering,’ she told Brandon. She took her hand off the mouthpiece and spoke to Dr Freeberg. ‘Who on earth is doing this?’

  ‘District Attorney Hoyt Lewis. Let me explain. It all began some days ago. Lewis came to my office to tell me that my use of surrogates was really an act of pandering, and against the law in California. He threatened to take me to court unless I gave up the use of surrogates. I contacted my lawyer, Roger Kile — you’ve met him — and after some research into California law, Kile assured me that Lewis had no case. Kile told me to proceed as I had been doing — I’m sorry — I should have warned you - ’

  Gayle stiffened. ‘Warned me? Warned me about what?’

  ‘Gayle, you’re going to be arrested, too.’

  ‘Me? For what?’

  ‘Prostitution. Me for pandering, which is a felony charge, and you for prostitution, a misdemeanour, because you are working for me.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ said Gayle. ‘What about the others of us, the other women, and Paul?’

  ‘No, just you and I are being charged. Obviously, if they win the case against you, they can charge everyone else later.’

  ‘But why me?’ Gayle wanted to know.

  ‘I tried to find out. The best I could learn at this point is that the prosecution’s chief witness was one of your patients.’

  ‘One of my patients?’ Gayle exclaimed. ‘That’s impossible. You know both of them as well as I do. Adam Demski’s from out of town. He’s a stranger here. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. And Chet — Chet Hunter. He wouldn’t claim I was a prostitute, not in a million years. Dr Freeberg, I saved him, I put him together again.’

  Dr Freeberg’s voice was implacable. ‘One of them informed on you, and me as well, and is going to be a witness against us in court.’

  Gayle shook her head. ‘It still makes no sense. What — what’s going to happen to us?’

  ‘There are arrest warrants out for each of us, but they’re charging us with different offences. We’ll both be taken to the city jail to be booked — you know, fingerprints, mug shots — ’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘ - and bail for each of us will be set. I’ve already notified Roger Kile, and he’s rushing up from Los Angeles to have a bail bondsman take care of our bail. So we’ll be released immediately.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘What follows will be different for each of us. I’m to have a preliminary hearing in ten days, where a judge will decide if there is a likelihood that a crime has been committed. If he decides there is, I’ll be bound over to the Superior Court, arraigned again, and then go on trial in about sixty days.’

  ‘What about me?’ Gayle asked in a quavering voice.

  ‘Your misdemeanour arraignment is simpler. You’ll go before a judge with Roger Kile accompanying you, and he’ll enter a plea of Not Guilty on your behalf. Then you may or may not be put on trial, too.’

  ‘Is all this going to be in the newspapers and on television?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Gayle. But don’t be frightened. Roger will be defending us — ’

  ‘Don’t worry? I’m damn worried, Dr Freeberg. I’m scared as hell. When are the police going to arrest me?’

  ‘In about ten minutes. I have to hang up now.’

  Gayle slammed down the telephone receiver, and turned to Brandon. ‘Paul, the police are going to be here any minute.’ Then, as Brandon grabbed hold of her, trying to soothe her, her eyes filled. ‘Dammit to hell, there goes everything. It’ll be made public. Can you see someone arrested for prostitution getting a scholarship to UCLA? Everything ruined

  ‘Not everything, Gayle. There’s still the two of us.’

  ‘Yes, but one of us’ll be in jail!’

  And she burst into tears.

  Ten

  The first thing on Chet Hunter’s mind, when he awakened in the morning, was to get in touch with Suzy Edwards and break the fantastic news to her.

  Still in his pyjamas, he telephoned Suzy at the Freeberg Clinic.

  ‘Suzy, I’ve got to see you today,’ he said excitedly. ‘When can you get here?’

  ‘Why, you know, soon^s work is done. I can be there a little after six.’

  ‘No, before, I must see you before.’

  ‘You make it sound like something important,’ said Suzy, bewilderment in her voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Not on the phone,’ replied Hunter. ‘There’s something I want to show you. And yes, it is important.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I could drop by at my lunch break — ’

  ‘Your lunch break? That would be great. You can grab a sandwich here while we talk.’

  ‘About what?’ Suzy persisted. ‘Can’t you even give me a hint?’

  ‘You’ll see. I’ll be waiting for you at twelve fifteen.�
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  The minute he hung up, Hunter thought of another call he must make. He lifted the receiver once more, and he dialled City Hall, When he had it, he asked the switchboard operator to put him through to District Attorney Hoyt Lewis’s office.

  The District Attorney was out on business, Hunter learned. ‘But,’ Lewis’s secretary went on, T know he was expecting to hear from you. Also, he said he’d be meeting with you.’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling,’ said Hunter. ‘Give him this message. Tell him it’s about the Reverend Scrafield’s talk with him last night. Tell him I’m getting it all down on paper, and I’ll make some copies and messenger one to him before noon. I’ll come by to see him between two and three, if it’s OK. Will you tell him that?’

  ‘I certainly will, Mr Hunter.’ The secretary giggled. ‘I gather you made out yesterday.’

  ‘Hey there, how do you know — ?’

  She giggled again. ‘You forgot. I’m Mr Lewis’s private secretary. I typed out his criminal complaints two hours ago.’

  ‘So that’s it.’ Hunter grinned to himself. ‘Yes, my dear lady, I made out yesterday.’

  After hanging up again, Hunter’s good cheer persisted. He had almost two hours to get ready for this momentous day. He would shower, shave, dress, eat a full breakfast, and then have more than enough time to complete his journal for Hoyt Lewis.

  He moved through all the acts of the morning briskly and on schedule. In fact, ahead of schedule, because he wanted to wind up his journal with care — to impress Suzy, when she read it, and then the District Attorney, and finally the Chronicle’s managing editor, Otto Ferguson.

  At his electric portable typewriter, Hunter tried to recall, as vividly as possible, and in fairly accurate detail, what had occurred yesterday evening in his final session with Gayle. While he had the dialogue on tape, only his mind could reconstruct the background and colour.

  She had been sitting on her couch, stark naked, waiting for him to finish undressing.

  She had inquired how he felt.

  He had said, ‘Like I can make it.’

  She had admitted, ‘You did last time. We had penetration.’

  Hunter began to type it all out. The part about his fear of prematurity, he decided to skip. Such details weren’t necessary. Hell, he wasn’t trying to be James Joyce, or Henry Miller, either. He decided to concentrate on what was relevant, and still true.