The Good Life (18 page)

“I love this crossing, don't you?” the boy said more warmly.

“It's fine, so far. I've never done it before.”

“Oh, really? I do it every year. You might be bored up here, though. It's usually more fun in third class. That's where the young people are, like us. Pretty girls too.”

“Where is it? I've noticed that several of the corridors seem to be blocked off.”

“One door is always left unlocked. You have to find it. I'll show you some time if you want.”

“Thanks. As far as I've seen, we're the only young guys on board.”

“I'm Timothy Dillingham.”

Perry almost laughed at the name. It sounded so silly. He said his own and shook the big bony hand that was offered him. When he gripped the rail again, their hands were touching. The boy didn't withdraw from the contact. Perry experimentally lifted his little finger in a minute caress. He felt an answering movement as Timothy's hand edged closer. Perhaps they were both just trying to keep their hands from getting locked onto the rail.

“I'm nineteen,” the boy said. “How about you?”

“I'm an old man of twenty-one.”

“I knew you weren't any older. I've just finished my first year at Amherst. Are you at college?”

“No. I skipped it.”

“Money? I know the story. All they ever talk about at home is money and how wonderful everything was before the Crash. I don't remember much about it. All I know is that we might be starving to death, but Mother wouldn't dream of traveling any way but first-class. I'll bet your family's the same way.”

“More or less. I don't let them bother me.”

“You don't look as if you've missed anything by not going to college. I envy you. I wish I were out making my own money.”

“I've been lucky on Wall Street.” Perry hadn't used the line before, but it seemed to cover everything.

He tried another tiny caress with his little finger. Timothy hooked his own around it. It was practically a declaration. It was too dark for Perry to see if the boy was blushing, but Perry figured he probably was.

“Have you been swallowing lots of goldfish?” Perry asked, referring to the craze that had been sweeping Ivy League colleges.

Timothy laughed scornfully. “Isn't it silly? People are getting the idea that that's all we do at school. I don't know how it started. My family would kill me if I got my picture in the paper swallowing a goldfish. You see what I mean about not missing anything? You're with Mr. Vernon?” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes. I'm traveling with him. That is, we both happened to be going at the same time.” Their little fingers were engaged in vile intimacies.

“My mother knows who he is,” he said, exclaiming suddenly, “What's that?” He was gazing into the dark. Their little fingers clutched each other.

“What?”

“Out there.” Timothy lifted his arm and pointed out to sea. Perry disengaged his little finger from the boy's passionate embrace and put his hand on his shoulder. He moved in close against his side, slightly in back, and pretended to sight along his arm. This model of a prep-school boy was a pushover. Perry lifted his free hand and put it on Timothy's. Timothy clutched it. “Do you see anything?” the boy asked.

“No.”

“I don't either now.”

Perry moved in against his back and let him feel his burgeoning hard-on. He felt Timothy's breath catch. “What was it?” Perry asked against the side of the boy's face.

“I'm not sure. A light, I think. May be it was just a reflection.”

They swayed against each other with the roll of the boat. Perry felt the boy's body yielding to him, melting in against him. Perry ran his hand from his shoulder down along his side to his waist and pulled him in closer against him. Their clasped hands moved with the stroking of their fingers.

“Watch. May be it will come again,” Perry said. He felt Timothy beginning to tremble against him. Perry wanted him. It was still so unfamiliar as to make him wonder if he were finally turning queer. He just wanted this one guy as simply and basically as he wanted a woman, without any thought of advantages for himself.

He had felt the innocence beneath the boy's worldly manner. Life hadn't permitted Perry to retain the defenselessness of innocence. He wanted to share Timothy's innocence. He wanted his social authority and his attitude toward money, the assumption that it was there regardless of whether he had any. He wanted his background and his gentlemanly breeding. He wanted his habit of privilege. Perry was confident enough of his clothes now and his style to feel that he didn't have to treat a guy in first class as anything special. But this boy was special, and Perry's response to him surprising.

“I guess I was seeing things,” the boy said haltingly.

Perry was aware of the risk of being seen in what amounted to an amorous embrace. “It's getting chilly. We better go in,” he said against the boy's ear. They put their hands in their pockets and started toward the door.

“What deck are you on?” Timothy asked.

“This one.”

“Me too.”

“As it should be. Everything seems to have been arranged for us to travel together. I'll show you my cabin.”

They pushed open the door and were sucked inside. Bright lights obliterated the eerie intimacy of the deck. It seemed unlikely that he'd been holding hands with this beautiful kid.

May be Timothy wasn't as willing as he'd appeared to be. May be college boys made a habit of holding hands, like swallowing goldfish. He looked far too superior for sex, which settled it. He was going to take Timothy to bed.

They followed Perry's corridor and stopped in front of his door. “Are you coming in?” he asked. “We can ring for drinks.”

Timothy hesitated. “I probably shouldn't. Mother thinks I drink too much as it is.”

“We don't have to drink,” Perry offered. “You can tell me how to swallow a goldfish.”

Timothy laughed — lovely, clear, youthful laughter — and their eyes met. The boy blushed but didn't look away. His eyes were big and blue and soft with assent.

Perry turned the key in the lock and brought him in with a hand on his shoulder and closed the door behind them. “Is this the same as yours?” he asked.

“I'm sharing a suite with my mother. They put a bed in the living room.” He turned to Perry and put a hand on his chest and fingered his lapel. “That's a very good-looking suit. Is it from Brooks?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. You have to have a perfect figure to look right in their things.” He kept his hand on his chest, perhaps to hold him off.

“Does that include me? Thanks.” Perry produced an imitation shiver. “I was getting cold out there. If we're not going to have a drink, May be I should take you to bed and let you get me warm.”

“Do you want me to?” Timothy asked with eager innocence.

Perry looked at his exquisitely formed lips, rosy and inviting. He put his arms around him and opened his mouth on them. Timothy offered himself with soft surrender. The ship's roll continued to sway their bodies against each other. Their lips drew apart lingeringly.

“You kissed me!” Timothy said. “How wonderful. I've been hoping you would.” He looked at Perry with grateful, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe that he was in Perry's arms.

“Is that why you blush every time I look at you?”

“I didn't blush,” Timothy protested with boyish indignation.

“You certainly did. I wondered what devilish thoughts you were thinking.”

“You know now. I'm a … God, I want to tell you. I don't know what would happen to me if they found out at school. I'm a…a homosexual. Do you understand? You're the handsomest boy I've ever seen.”

“I don't know whether or not I'm homosexual. I just know I want you. Let's get these clothes off.”

“Everything?”

“Of course. We're going to make love. That's the best way I know to get warm.”

“Oh, Perry.” He sighed ecstatically and pressed himself to him and began to tremble again.

Perry chuckled. “I guess I'm going to have to get you warm.”

“It isn't that. I'm scared. I've never actually been to bed with a boy. I don't know what you expect. I've heard things. Do you know what I want?” He blushed again.

“I want you,” Perry said. “I want you a lot. Go take your clothes off.” Their mouths met again for a long moment. Timothy's was a sensual delight.

Perry released him and went to the closet to hang up his clothes. Timothy sat to take off his shoes. When Perry turned back to him, naked, Timothy was on his feet again, also naked except for the shirt unbuttoned down the front. He had an astonishingly big cock for such a skinny kid. It lifted heavily from between the shirttails. Perry went to him and ran his hands over his flat chest, pushing back the shirt. “We don't need this,” he said.

“I don't have much of a body.”

“I wouldn't want you if I didn't like it just the way it is.” He pulled the shirt down over Timothy's arms and let it fall. Perry held him and backed him toward the bed.

Perry was delighted with the boy's body. He loved it for not being a fine physical specimen. He didn't want him to be too masculine. His body looked as if it had been sheltered from hardship, untried, lanky, coltish, unfit for manual labor. He had an adorably virginal look. It made Perry feel strangely tender and protective. May be shipboard romances did something special to you.

“Oh, Perry, your body is breathtaking. Does it shock you for me to show you how much I want it?”

“Of course not. It's lovely. I want you to belong to me.” Perry's declaration surprised and shocked him.

“Oh, God, Perry. I do. I want you to take all of me.”

When Perry was inside him, the boy lifted his head with a shout and was shaken by sobbing laughter. “I'm yours. I'm yours, Perry,” he cried. “Oh, God, it's wonderful.” Timmy dropped his head back on Perry's shoulder and looked up at him with dazed adoration. “Do anything you want with me. I do belong to you.”

Perry was filled with wonder at the ease with which the boy gave himself to Perry. They both knew instinctively how to please each other. This was perhaps Timmy's first time, but Perry knew that Timmy had found what most satisfied his body. Perry had found something too — a momentary release from whatever drove him to always demand more of life.

They lay together while the ship rolled and creaked beneath them. The motion rocked their bodies seductively against each other. Perry ran his fingertips along the beguiling tilt of the boy's aristocratic nose and traced the delicate curves of his lips. Everything about him was different from anybody else he had ever known — the texture of his skin, the way the golden hair grew, the curiously defenseless look and feel of his long, slim, useless body, all marked by refinement. He was holding in his arms generations of expensive breeding.

He wanted to be Timothy. He wished he could somehow re-create himself into a replica of this thoroughbred youth. His gentlemanly instincts weren't enough. It was what was inside that counted. This boy — this young man — was American royalty; it was bred in him. Perry could dress the part of the gentleman, behave with impeccable manners, but those were just costumes and masks. He was playing the role of the gentleman. He'd always be a refugee from the Dust Bowl, a guy on the make, searching for the good life, on edge every minute with fear of giving himself away. Billy's kept boy, Mrs. Rosen's stud, Hubie's pickup, and the object of Hubie's mother's contempt.

Perry's grip tightened on the boy, asserting his possession. Timothy belonged to him. He was all he could claim as undeniably his own. Impossibly, he wanted to keep him.

It was after 4 when Perry grudgingly returned him to the supervision of his mother. Perry had taken her son away from her. He wondered what he thought he was going to do with the young boy. Nothing, of course. They would part when the ship tied up and would probably never see each other again.

Even if he were what Timothy took him to be — a prosperous, independent young man — he still wouldn't want to fall in love with a boy. Homosexual love couldn't lead to anything. You didn't have to think about it very hard to see how ridiculous it was. If they did what they both conceivably might be ready to do — ditch their encumbrances and run away together — there was nowhere to go from there. The kid wasn't even twenty-one yet, for God's sake. There was nothing to think about.

Perry rang George for breakfast and did a bit of washing up while he waited for it. He had a cup of coffee and a croissant and wondered if it would embarrass Timmy if he went to his mother's suite to look for him. There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he called.

“Me.”

Perry sprang up with a rush of joy and hid his nakedness behind the door as he let Timothy in. He was looking very superior and prep-schoolish in a cardigan sweater and slacks. They flung their arms around each other.

“Thank God it's you!” Perry exclaimed. “I've missed you like crazy. Your timing is perfect. I'm awake and waiting for you. Get rid of those clothes and come to bed with me.”

“I've been going mad with wanting you. I'm so in love with you, Perry. I absolutely adore you. I can't live without you.”

“Don't try. I hated being without you. It's amazing, isn't it? Hurry up.” He dropped back into bed and waited for Timothy to throw off his clothes and come sliding in against his body, which Timothy immediately took control of with his hands and mouth. The boy had become an accomplished lover overnight. They sprawled out, entangled in each other.

“I've been longing for that,” Timmy sighed.

“It's hard to believe you're doing all these things for the first time.”