(1987) The Celestial Bed

by Irving Wallace

  ‘You told me your goal was to get me to go five minutes,’ he had said.

  ‘Ten minutes, Chet, ten minutes,’ Gayle had replied.

  Hunter resumed typing.

  He wrote faster as he neared the good parts, omitting only a few lines of what had happened.

  ‘You’ll just have a great time, Chet,’ Gayle had promised him. ‘Penetration the way you’ve always wanted. Male superior position and you engaging in complete intercourse.’

  He was writing even faster now.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ Gayle had asked.

  She was a hot little cookie, that one, he mused, maybe not what Suzy could prove to be, but not bad for a paid sex partner.

  Recalling entering her, Hunter swallowed hard, and spelled out the details of their coupling.

  He remembered what followed. ‘How long was it before I came?’

  ‘Seven minutes,’ she had said. And later, she had said, ‘But I’m not letting you out of here until you’ve penetrated me for ten minutes. You will.’

  And he had, the second time better than the first, and he wrote it all down.

  Tearing the last page out of the typewriter, he reread what he had written. He was a clean typist, and had to make only three corrections.

  When he finished reading, he sat back aglow.

  Wouldn’t this light a bonfire under the District Attorney? And Scrafield? And, more important, Otto Ferguson?

  But most important of all, there would be Suzy Edwards’s thrilled reaction.

  Gathering the final pages together, Hunter hurried downstairs to make two visits. One was to the Copy Shop, where he had three copies run off. Then he crossed over to the Ultra-Speed Messenger Service, and arranged for the copies to be delivered to Hoyt Lewis at City Hall, to the Reverend Scrafield at his church, and to Otto Ferguson in his office at the Hillsdale Chronicle.

  It was exactly noon when he completed his chore’s and returned with his original typescript to wait for the arrival of Suzy.

  At fourteen minutes after twelve Suzy arrived, kissed Hunter, then held him off to see whether she could read anything in his face to satisfy her curiosity.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘This,’ said Hunter, handing her the original of his final typing, and leading her with it to his armchair. ‘Sit down and read about my last therapy session.’

  Although they had seen each other regularly during the last two weeks, Hunter had avoided two things: any attempt at sex with her, which Dr Freeberg had cautioned all patients about, (and besides, Hunter had been too fearful of another failure with Suzy); and discussions of his activities with his sex surrogate and his

  progress, because he had been uncertain if anything good would come of it.

  Now at last she would know all about it.

  Hunter hovered near her, as Suzy, curiosity quotient rising, began to read, slowly and then faster.

  Toward the end of her read she kept murmuring, ‘Wonderful… wonderful … wonderful.’

  Suddenly she was done and on her feet, hugging Hunter ecstatically. ‘Honey, you made it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, honey, it worked and you’re all right now!’

  Her enthusiasm unnerved him slightly. ‘Well, I think so, Suzy. It worked, sort of …’

  She held him off. ‘What do you mean, “sort of”? You did it with that marvellous woman not once, but twice, actually three times. Why are you so hesitant?’

  ‘Because I’m not sure what lasting effects I’ll have from my surrogate. Gayle proved I could do it with her. With her, somehow, it worked. But now that she’s turned me loose, how do I know I’m cured with anyone else? It might not work without her.’

  Suzy gripped his arms and eyed him closely. ‘Chet, were you in love with her? Are you in love with her?’

  ‘Of course not! I’m in love with you. She was only a teacher. You’re the one I love.’

  Suzy’s arms went up around him. ‘Then show me, Chet. Prove she cured you enough to do it with me. That’s all you want to know, anyway. Let’s do it.’

  He appeared startled. ‘Right now? I - I have to go out soon. You have to go back to work.’ He added lamely, ‘And what about your lunch?’

  ‘Oh, Chet, that’s silly. There’s still enough time to prove to yourself … and to me - ’

  He embraced Suzy tightly. ‘Hey, don’t get me wrong. I want to go to bed with you any time, all the time - ’

  ‘Then right now’s the time.’

  ‘You bet,’ he said, starting to loosen his tie.

  She’d yanked her blouse off, dropped it, and headed for the bedroom. ‘Follow me, Chet!’

  ‘Hey, kiddo,’ he said, ‘you’ve given me a hard-on a mile long.’

  He was trying to get out of his trousers, when she took him by the arm. ‘Then hold on to it, save it for me.’

  At the bed, they were undressed in a half minute flat.

  For a moment, she gaped at him. ‘I’ve been waiting for that one a long, long time, honey.’

  Suzy threw herself on the bed, bouncing, as Hunter fell on top of her. It was difficult for him to restrain himself, but all the exercises he’d learned in the past days danced through his head. Slow down. Caress, touch, stroke. Slowly, slowly, get to feelings and pleasure, and don’t try to prove anything.

  After about five minutes of foreplay, he had had enough, and from the throaty sounds Suzy was making, so had she.

  Her thighs were apart to receive him and he was over her.

  No thought of premature ejaculation or possible failure even crossed his mind. He had entered his surrogate all the way, last night, not once but twice, and maintained his erections and withheld his orgasms for what had seemed to him eternities.

  There was no thought he couldn’t do it with Suzy, his own gorgeous Suzy.

  His penis was touching her velvety vaginal cleft.

  Yet, no spasm, no sperm, just the body-hungering desire to enter her, to be one with her.

  Without hesitation, he plunged into her, deeply into her, feeling only the heat of her body and his own as they locked together in their first coupling.

  It was the dreamed-of consummation at last, and the greatest high he had ever enjoyed in his entire life.

  They went on together. Neither was aware of the time. They were aware only that no premature ejaculation had thwarted their pleasure.

  When ejaculation did occur, it was at the peak of their enjoyment, and for the first time it was normal.

  After it was done, they clung to one another, both in relief and in celebration of what the future held for them.

  Once they had rested, and gone to the bathroom to shower together, they dressed themselves.

  ‘Now I’ll make sandwiches for us,’ announced Suzy.

  ‘Make one for yourself,’ said Hunter. ‘I’ll eat later. Right now I’ve got an appointment.’

  As he hurried into the living room, Suzy followed him. ‘What’s the big rush, Chet? Don’t you want to relax and — ’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, retrieving the final pages of his journal. ‘I’m

  meeting with the District Attorney at City Hall.’

  ‘The District Attorney? You doing some research for him?’ ‘I already did.’ He waved his pages. ‘He’s going to arrest Freeberg for pandering and Gayle Miller for prostitution, and he needs this for evidence, so I — ’

  Suzy’s expression was appalled. She darted in front of Hunter, blocking his way. ‘Wait a minute, Chet. Don’t tell me you don’t know — ’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Freeberg and Gayle were arrested this morning. Freeberg wasn’t quite so worried after his lawyer, Kile, convinced him no patient would be willing to provide real evidence against them. But — ‘ She stared at Hunter. ‘ — you mean, you’re the one who is going to give evidence that Freeberg is a pimp and Gayle is a hooker?’

  ‘It was just a job, Suzy. Somebody had to be a witness, so I came up with the evidence.’

  Suzy
was stunned. ‘You did that? I don’t believe it!’ Her fury was beginning to mount. ‘You’re supposed to be the man I love. But looking at you now, I see a horrible weasel, a shitface of a weasel!’ She caught her breath. ‘I sent you to Freeberg and Gayle to fix you up, and instead you used the opportunity to investigate them, turn it into a sting operation.’

  ‘That was incidental, a side thing,’ Hunter explained uncomfortably. ‘Of course, my real purpose was to get some help and normalise our relationship. But along the way I picked up this evidence.’ He waved the papers in his hand once more. ‘Do you know what this means for us, Suzy? It means this is now a political issue, and I’m guaranteed a job on Ferguson’s paper. It’ll put us on our feet.’

  He tried to get past Suzy, but she stood in his way. ‘You’re not going anywhere. If you try to, don’t come back. I never want to set eyes on you again. I’d regard you as the lowliest thing in the universe. Not good enough to come out from under a rock. Chet, do you know what you’re doing to them — to Dr Freeberg, to Gayle Miller — after what they’ve done for you? Your evidence could put them both behind bars, put Freeberg out of business, ruin Gayle’s career.’

  ‘Listen,’ pleaded Hunter, ‘I don’t make the laws — ’

  ‘But you’re going to be the one to try to prove they broke the

  law. You’re their only evidence. How can you be against them? How can you go in there and destroy Gayle Miller, that wonderful woman? I just read what she did for you. I just found out what she did for you in your bedroom. Now you’re going to try to prove she’s a criminal.’

  ‘You know that was never my intention.’

  ‘That’s what it comes down to. Chet - ‘ Suzy had him by the shoulders ‘ - you can’t - you can’t do it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Suzy, but I’m committed.’

  ‘Then get uncommitted.’ She snatched the story from Hunter. ‘Chet, did a low-down prostitute do this for you? Or was it a legitimate surrogate working for a licensed therapist?’

  ‘Suzy, please don’t stand in my way. The court will decide what’s right or wrong. All I know is what’s right for me, for us. I want to get someplace.’

  ‘Chet, you are no place! As a human being you are nowhere! You’re behaving like a rat!’

  ‘Suzy, stop that.’

  ‘You can go on with the work you’ve been doing. A decent opportunity will come along and you’ll go further. But don’t do it this way. Right now you have to live with yourself and me. How can you even consider turning on the people who did so much for you? Please think about it, Chet. Think about it!’

  Tony Zecca sat behind his desk in the backroom office of his restaurant waiting for the telephone at his elbow to ring.

  He had placed the call to Big Manny Martin in Las Vegas nearly a half hour ago. He had been told that Manny was out of his suite, but would be back soon and would return his call. He had been advised to sit tight for it.

  He had been sitting tight all this while, wondering if he had done the right thing, and wondering what he should ask of Manny when he phoned back.

  There was little doubt in Zecca’s mind that Manny would do whatever was requested of him. Zecca had always had a smooth working relationship with Manny and the mob. With his restaurant chain, Zecca had set up a perfect cover for them to launder loose money and give themselves an acceptable legitimacy in the eyes of the Internal Revenue Service. They’d helped him get along, and get along well, of course. But he’d helped them more

  and in a more crucial way. Beyond the business, he had done many other favours for the mob, allowing his chain to perform as a safe conduit for their drug smuggling from South America. There was no question in Zecca’s mind that the mob owed him one, and Manny was the person to ask for a repayment.

  What was confusing to Zecca was exactly what repayment he should request when Manny’s call came through.

  What was not confusing to Zecca was his ultimate goal. That was clear. Get rid of that fucking Dr Freeberg, by one means or another. Freeberg had seduced Nan and was keeping her on the side for some daily nooky. Once Freeberg was put out of commission, Nan would be alone and lost. Zecca would have no trouble bringing her back under his control.

  Zecca’s first instinct had been to take care of Freeberg himself. Though he was careful to conceal the fact from Nan, he always packed a .45 wherever he went, and turning the doctor into a corpse would be easy. Somehow, something made Zecca hesitate about going after the doctor on his own. Not that he was averse to killing anyone who had harmed him or stood in his way. But the fact was he had not killed anyone since his Vietnam years, because his facade and value to the mob had been respectability. If he ever caused a scrap, and had a run-in with the police, it could end his usefulness to the mob, and even put his own life in jeopardy.

  Zecca had finally decided that what he wanted done should be done by the faceless mob. They were expert at this, and no clue would be left to trace the act to them. He himself would remain in the clear - hands clean - and free to bring Nan back into his life.

  So Zecca had buzzed Manny in Las Vegas.

  Now, waiting for the return call, only one uncertainty existed. Exactly what did he want to ask of Manny? Did he want Manny to assign a hit man to waste the fucking doctor and dump his body? Or did he want Manny to send down one or two strong-arm hoods to rough up Freeberg, beat him to a pulp, and tell him to get out of town fast if he wanted to hold onto what was left of him?

  Trying to determine what should be done, what he should tell Manny he wanted when the call came, he glared impatiently at the telephone and reached for his unopened copy of the day’s Hillsdale Chronicle.

  Opening the newspaper to turn to the sports section, a headline

  on the lower half of the front page caught his eye. Actually, what caught his eye was the name of Dr Arnold Freeberg in the lead paragraph of the story.

  Curious, Tony Zecca hastily read the story.

  Finishing it, he lay back in his swivel chair, a smile of satisfaction on his face. So, District Attorney Hoyt Lewis was charging a local sex therapist, Dr Arnold Freeberg, with using female surrogates to cure patients. So, Lewis was arresting and booking Freeberg, and an as yet unnamed surrogate for the criminal offences of pandering and prostitution. So, Lewis was going to place Freeberg on trial and end his practice in Hillsdale.

  Tomorrow, the District Attorney would hold a press conference outlining details of his prosecution against Freeberg.

  Zecca’s smile broadened.

  His dilemma was over. A means of getting rid of Freeberg had been neatly resolved by the law. Zecca would not have to ask anyone to get rid of Freeberg. The DA was doing it for him. The DA would, in effect, waste the fucking doctor, and Zecca would have the faithless bitch Nan back in his bed for as long as he wanted her.

  That moment, the telephone rang.

  It was Big Manny Martin himself on the line from Las Vegas.

  ‘Hiya, chum,’ said Manny. ‘You have something important to discuss?’

  Zecca swallowed. ‘Not really important, boss. Maybe I overdid it in my enthusiasm. More routine, really.’

  ‘What is it, Tony?’

  ‘Uh, the shipment — the shipment from Colombia — came in a week early. Thought you’d want to arrange a pickup.’

  ‘Is that all? We’ll catch it on the regular pickup. Thanks for staying on the ball, Tony. See you soon.’

  After he hung up, Zecca settled back, relieved.

  Just as well to have District Attorney Lewis do Manny’s job for him. Tomorrow, Zecca resolved, he’d be on hand to keep an eye on the DA’s press conference.

  Only a second before being shown into the District Attorney’s office did Chet Hunter feel any unsteadiness in his legs. This, he was sure, came not from nervousness about the momentous step he was taking, but from the exhaustion engendered by his second

  roll in the hay with Suzy Edwards. It had been better than the first, far more prolonged, and much better.

  Now, his
shoulders back, feeling strong and certain, he walked into the District Attorney’s office.

  The Reverend Josh Scrafield was there, of course, off to one side, beaming at him. Hunter detoured to shake Scrafield’s hand, then continued on to the District Attorney’s desk.

  Hoyt Lewis was standing, hand extended. Hunter took it briefly.

  ‘Congratulations!’ Lewis boomed out. He tapped the copy of the last instalment of Hunter’s journal lying on his desk. ‘A great job, an absolutely perfect job.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hunter.

  ‘I’ve been eager to see you, Chet,’ said the District Attorney. ‘I want to map out our strategy with you, before my press conference tomorrow. Sit down, sit down. Let’s talk it over.’

  Hunter remained silently standing.

  Lewis settled in his leather chair. ‘The main thing is that you testify on the stand just as you wrote it all out for me. We can’t lose. You’re going to make a magnificent witness for the prosecution. You’re going to be an unimpeachable witness.’

  Hunter cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be,’ he said simply.

  Hoyt Lewis raised his head with a jerk, as if he hadn’t heard right. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll repeat it for you,’ said Hunter. ‘I’m not going to appear as a witness for you. I’ve come to the conclusion that Dr Freeberg is not pandering and Gayle Miller is not engaging in prostitution. They should not be prosecuted. They’re performing legitimate therapy. I participated in a cure with them, and it worked. They’re good people, and they deserve to be left to continue their work.’

  Hoyt Lewis shook his head in disbelief. ‘Have you lost your mind, Chet? I can’t be hearing you right.’

  From behind him, Hunter heard the angry shout. ‘Are you crazy or what?’ bellowed the Reverend Scrafield. He strode across the office. ‘Did Freeberg pay you to do this?’

  Hunter remained calm. ‘On the contrary. I paid Freeberg to put me together, and he did.’

  Scrafield had his hands on Hunter’s lapels. ‘You back off, play turncoat, and I’ll have your neck, I swear it!’