The Good Life (15 page)

“Has anybody been spreading rumors to the contrary?”

She laughed deep in her throat. “You're an immoral bastard. Oh! My God. Don't say anything. Just do it, Perry.
Do it
. You're heavenly. You're so beautifully young. I'd forgotten. Do it for me. Do it!”

He loved giving older women such pleasure. They knew he might be their last chance. He had known often enough what it was like to feel that something was slipping through your fingers forever. He did it until she was reduced to helpless, grateful passivity.

When he was finished with her, he pulled the covers over her gently and went to the bathroom to wash away the smell of her. When he came out, she was lying where he had left her. She turned her head toward him.

“Will I see you again before you go?” she asked.

He moved into the light so that she could look at his body. “It doesn't seem likely.”

“No. I suppose not.” Her eyes moved over him. “Have a lovely summer. Bring me news of Bettina. And remember what I said.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

A ripple of laughter escaped her. He approached the side of the bed and stood over her. She lifted a hand and stroked his cock lightly. It flexed under her touch.

“You're quite superb. You know it, of course, and it would be foolish of you not to. You want to get along. Thank you for teaching me what you wanted with your…your…”

“My cock?”

“If that's what you want to call it.”

“As far as I know. You sucked my cock.”

“It was more thrilling than you make it sound.”

“I'm glad. May be we'll do it again.”

She gave it a final little squeeze. “Go put your clothes on. It must be getting late.”

He looked at his watch. “Quarter past 3,” he said, going to the chair where he'd left his clothes. He dressed and paused at the foot of the bed to exchange a smile of suggestions and hidden possibilities, then left.
An ally for the time being
, he thought,
but a lady to reckon with
. He didn't think fucking her had been a mistake even if she told Billy.

And Bet? Would Bet do for him what her mother just did? And what her father does? He made a mental note to send Arlene flowers.

There had been a delay, but Cartier finally had the big ring ready for him before Clifton Webb's party, and Perry could hardly take his eyes off it. “Isn't it fantastic?” he exclaimed, showing it to Billy.

Billy took his hand and examined the ring. “Very handsome. It's turned out just the way I hoped. It's perfect for your hand. I'm delighted,” he smiled smugly, “and talented.”

“I hope I don't ever sock anybody with it. I'd kill them. Oh, Billy, it's beautiful. You are more than talented, you're a genius. You're going to see me waving my hand around a lot in front of people's faces. I want everybody to see it.” His eyes were drawn as always to the photograph of Bet, and he moved his hand slightly, showing off the ring.

“You make it such a pleasure to give you things. Charming.”

Clifton lived in one of the grandest apartment buildings on Park Avenue, and the party was the most glamorous Perry had ever been to. He'd never seen so many celebrities gathered in one room. It was better than “21.”

He was introduced to Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne. He chatted with Tallulah Bankhead, who said “fuck” four times in as many minutes. Perry was astonished. He didn't know it was a word you could use in public.

“Who do you have to fuck around here to get a drink?” she demanded. Perry got her one without demanding to be fucked, although she looked as if she might be considering it.

As Billy had assured him he would, he met Marlene Dietrich. He finally met Cole Porter with his wife, Linda. He didn't think he'd made much of an impression on the songwriter. He was a slight, gnome-like man who seemed to need a stick to walk. Perry wondered what had become of his boyfriend. Rodney's playwright, Moss Hart, was there, glittering with wit and gold. Perry's ring caught his eye when they were standing near each other, and he asked to see it. Perry slipped it off his finger to let him inspect it.

“A pretty bauble,” he commented, handing it back. “Do you own gold mines?”

“Only one.”

“Much depleted, no doubt.” Moss Hart looked at him with interest. “You're not an actor, I hope?”

“No.”

“Then it's safe to talk to you. I can't blink at an actor without his thinking I've hired him. I write plays.”

“I know. I saw one the other day. A friend of mine was in it. Rodney Fairfield.”

“Ah, yes, Rodney.” The playwright's interest seemed to become guarded. “Very promising despite his looks. I do wish he'd change his name again.”

“It's fake, isn't it?”

“Unlike your ring. I thought I had the corner on the gold market, but you've beaten me to it.” He glanced at his watch. “Cartier too.” He nodded at Perry's wrist. “Do you have a Tiffany cigarette case?”

Perry laughed. “Yes.”

“Good. I like to see a young man so well provided for. We must get together and compare our loot. Now I have to leave all you lovely people. I wonder if I can make my getaway without being raped by May belle.”

He left Perry laughing. Celebrities were fun. He wanted to be invited to more parties like this. He hoped he'd have some time with Clifton.

Perry talked at length with a dumpy little woman who seemed rather forlorn and out of sorts. He stayed with her longer than he wanted in an attempt to cheer her up. He encountered Clifton as he made his escape.

“Did you see that woman I was just talking to? Who is she?”

Clifton put a hand on his arm and laughed. “I won't tell her you asked. That's Gloria Swanson.”

“You're kidding.” She had been the biggest star in Hollywood when he was growing up. It hadn't been all that long ago.

“Are you having a good time, dear boy?” Clifton asked.

“Wonderful.”

“I've been a busy host, but I intend to have some time with you before the evening's over. Stay.”

He had a friendly chat with Steve Wiman and felt very much a part of the big-time clientele. She repeated her invitation for a weekend. He saw Cole Porter taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and waited while he hobbled over to him.

“Are you a friend of Moss?” he asked.

“No. We just met. He doesn't even know my name.”

“I do. Perry Langham. It's a name I'll remember. I saw you talking to him. I've had my eye on you. Will you have dinner with me one night soon?”

“My God, yes, Mr. Porter. I'd love to.”

“How delightful. You say it as if you meant it. Please call me Cole unless you want me to call you Mr. Langham.”

“Okay. Thank you, Cole. The only trouble is, I'm about to go to Europe. If I get too busy, will you remember me in the fall?”

“I'm quite sure I will. Try to make it before you go if you can.”

“Don't worry. I can probably cancel if anything gets in the way.” Perry was pleasantly surprised. He had made an impression after all. He might need somebody to fall back on before the summer was over. “Do you want to sit down? Can I help?”

“A nuisance, isn't it? I can manage, although I'm not ready to begin the beguine. I rather stupidly fell off a horse.”

“I hope it gets well soon. I love the song.”

“I rather forced that, didn't I? Thank you for picking up your cue.”

“I meant it. Can I call you in any case, Cole? I'd like to see you again.”

“I'm glad. Don't think for a minute that just because I'm the most successful songwriter in the world I don't like flattery.” He took out a gold-cornered notecase and handed Perry a card. “Those are my most secret numbers, known only to a few thousand people. Guard them with your life.” He hobbled away.

Perry circled Gloria Swanson a couple of times, trying to find a trace of the face he remembered, without success. She didn't look old. She just didn't look like the same person.

He noticed the gathering beginning to thin out and wondered how long he was expected to stay. All of a sudden waiters withdrew, carrying empty glasses, and he found himself alone in the big room. He was appalled by the possibility that Clifton thought he had gone too. He wondered if he could sneak out without getting caught.

He'd started cautiously for the entrance hall when Clifton came hurrying back and took both of his hands in his.

“Excuse me, dear boy. I was pushing the last ones out the door. Parties like that sometimes seem interminable.”

“I wasn't sure I should stay so long.”

“Of course. I asked you to. It's divine of you. It's what I was hoping for. I told them to leave some real sandwiches. Let's eat them and bitch everybody.”

He led Perry by the hand to a table against the wall and took a napkin off a platter that was heaped with thick sandwiches. They switched to wine, ate the sandwiches, talked about everybody, and predictably were soon in an elegant bedroom with Clifton's velvet mouth all over Perry's naked body.

Suddenly May belle's voice shrieked through the apartment.

“Webb! Webb!”
she cried, causing Perry to jump and glance over his shoulder.

“Bloody parrot,” Clifton muttered.

“Parrot?” Perry repeated, shaken. The voice seemed to come on cue just as they both were near orgasm.

“It's Lily, the parrot,” Clifton explained. “She thinks she's my mother. I sometimes wish she were. There's no law against strangling a parrot. Don't worry. I've sent mother to bed.”

Perry burst out laughing, and Clifton joined in.

“Such a handsome lad.” Clifton leaned back over Perry and applied his skill with titillating effect, murmuring, “Irresistible. Lovely. Divine.”

Perry moaned as he was teased and tantalized toward climax, bringing Clifton along with him with his hand and eventually using his own mouth with surprisingly little reluctance.

Perry lay back and let Clifton caress his body in the lethargic aftermath, listening to the sounds of the city outside. It had become a hospitable sound.

“You're a delight,” Clifton said finally. “Boys of your age are so often very selfish. You're angelic to share your pleasure with me. As far as I'm concerned, you're a hit. I'll give you a good review.”

Perry dressed, and Clifton accompanied him to the door. “I've had a wonderful evening. Thank you,” Perry said.

“I'll be looking forward to good times in the fall. Have a divine summer.” They kissed before Clifton opened the door for him.

Perry thought Clifton would remember him. He didn't see how he could hold people's interest if he didn't give them a sample of the pleasure he could offer. It seemed to him an advantage that he hadn't really wanted any of the men he had given himself to. Only a few times had he felt the homosexual urge in him. May be it would develop. Billy seemed to want it to.

Meanwhile, he was free to find pleasure in the pleasure he could give to others. He loved having something that people wanted. He went home thinking of the glamorous future that was within his grasp.

He had bought a pocket engagement book at Mark Cross and began to make entries in it. A package from Mark Cross came for him. It was too big to be another address book by mistake. It was a beautifully fitted toilet case from Clifton. “In memory of a happy weekend in Atlantic City,” he had written. Perry laughed. Clifton would remember.

“I hear you're getting to be quite a conversation piece,” Billy said one midday when they met for drinks downstairs. “The new stud in town with the big cock. People are beginning to boast about having had you. It's all very well if they continue to boast, but if you let everybody have you, there won't be anything left to boast about.”

“There haven't been so many,” Perry protested, blushing.

“I was undoubtedly mistaken, but I understood that boys — men — didn't particularly interest you.”

“I'm learning.”

“I'm glad. I think life generally will be happier if you let your homosexuality prevail, but ours is a delicate relationship, and we must act accordingly. It would be unfortunate for you to convince me that you can do very well without me.”

Perry's heart skipped a beat as he heard a note of warning in Billy's voice for the first time. Unprepared for it, he blurted, “Well, you know I can't, so there's nothing to worry about. Who am I? Billy Vernon's kept boy. Everybody knows it.” Instinctively he immediately regretted what sounded like groveling.

“You're a credit to me. I'm very proud of you. I'll look rather foolish if people get the impression that I'm keeping you as a plaything for the whole town.”

Perry looked at him levelly for a long, silent moment. He saw him fidget. Perry's heart began to pound as he prepared to meet the challenge head on. He hated Billy for making him feel threatened. Didn't he understand that he needed some sense of security?

When he spoke he kept his voice cold and tried to inject a hint of menace into it. Fear and guilt were his weapons. “You know perfectly well the impression people have. When they look at me, they think of sex. May be they want me so they can find out if I'm worth being kept. I want to feel that you're determined to keep me no matter what. If you can't give me that, the rest isn't worth anything. We both know you can throw me out. Do you think it's pleasant to live with?”

“Good heavens, dearest boy. I wouldn't—”

“No, let's get it straight.” Thinking of everything that was at stake, he took a deep breath to calm the pounding in his heart. He knew he had Billy on the run. “You told me you wanted me to make friends. You can't make friends without some give and take. What do you expect me to do if men want me? It's nothing new. I can't pretend to be shocked. May be that gives them the idea that I can be had. Sometimes I can be. Just don't threaten me. If I were going to beat you for real, I wouldn't threaten. I'd do it. Remember that if you ever think you might be pushing me too far.”