The Good Life (7 page)

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Authors: Gordon Merrick

BOOK: The Good Life
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He returned to the chaise longue and dropped to one knee on the floor. He ran his hands up Perry's thighs and lifted his cock to his lips and ran his tongue around it. “It's lovely. I'm glad it's not any bigger. It would detract from the rest of you. Now, let's have another drink, and then I must get ready.”

They rose. Perry's cock swung out at a downward angle, sufficiently aroused to give a vivid impression of what it could turn into.

Billy was as weird as they come, but Perry was confident that he could give him what he wanted. Nothing but the whip bothered him so far. He was going to try to find ways to avoid being dropped until he was ready to be.

They had another drink together before Perry put his clothes on.

Billy went downstairs with him and let him out, lost in thought as he closed the door behind him. He returned to his bedroom feeling curiously stirred by the meeting.

Perry excited and intrigued him. He was undoubtedly a hustler like most penniless young men, but he wasn't commonplace. He had quality aside from his astonishing body. He could use the whip as if he meant it without its turning him into a bully. He was charmingly compliant, but something in him remained cool and reserved. Young men just entering manhood fascinated Billy with their potential for both good and bad.

Billy was almost sorry he was returning to Europe so soon. With time he might turn Perry into a finished product that would take the town by storm. He had a fresh, innocent quality that would make it a pleasure to introduce him to all the things he didn't know and was so obviously ready to find out about.

He particularly liked his first impression yesterday that Perry wasn't a homosexual. Most of his young men were embarrassments in polite society. His first impression was what counted; he could be seen with Perry without people jumping to conclusions. It was a shame that he hadn't met him a couple of months ago.

Perry went back to the Y on Tuesday evening to put on his new suit before crossing the park to 66th Street to keep his dinner engagement.

Billy let him in and greeted him warmly. “How delightful to see you. You're looking extraordinarily handsome. I've missed you, Perry. We can stay down here for drinks.” He took him along a hall to an elegant living room that looked over a garden. “What will you have this evening?”

Perry chose whiskey and noticed again that Billy already had a glass. He was looking very dapper in a pale summer suit and a white shirt with a starched collar. He gave Perry a glass, and they sat together on a sofa facing the garden.

“I've had a distressing weekend, but first, where do you want to dine? I booked a table at ‘21,' but I can change it.”

Perry almost choked with excitement. He was finally going to see the New York he had read about. “That would be fine. Actually, I've heard it's good, but I've never been there. I haven't been here long.”

“The food would barely get by in Paris, but I like it. I imagine it's a place you should see. At least they don't serve frozen food. Some restaurants are beginning to. I imagine everything will be frozen soon, and we'll forget what fresh food tastes like.”

“What went wrong with the weekend?”

“Laszlo has suddenly announced that he doesn't want to go back to Europe with me. He's afraid that if there's trouble, he might get caught there. He probably has a point, but it's rather turned things upside down. Don't misunderstand me: I haven't reached the point where I need a servant every minute, but when I travel it's agreeable to have someone with me to help cope with the details.”

Perry's heart accelerated. Was he going to be offered a job? May be that explained why he hadn't been taken upstairs. May be Billy had finished with him sexually and was beginning to think of him as a servant, although the greeting had been more warmly personal than the way he'd expect to be treated as a servant. He wasn't sure what he thought of the possibility.

“Well, sure,” Perry said. “I was a travel agent before I came here. There's a lot of stuff to take care of.”

“Exactly. I've given it a lot of thought. How much are you paid at the fair?”

“Thirty dollars a week. Not bad.”

“Does the job represent anything for your future?”

“Nothing except to meet people like you, and I guess that's more pleasure than anything to do with my future.”

“Not necessarily. Let me tell you something, Perry. I find you marvelously satisfying to be with, not forgetting what happened the other day. I've missed you enormously the last few days. You're such a gentleman. I can take you anywhere. Would you consider quitting your job? It will end in the fall, won't it? Will you come to Europe with me? Not to replace Laszlo, naturally. As a companion. I can give you an allowance of fifty dollars a week so that you have some independence. If you like it, you could stay. If not, you can come back whenever you choose. I don't think you will have lost anything by doing it, do you?”

“My goodness, Billy. I'm speechless.”

“In any case, I'm planning to be gone for less than two months this time. I have to be here for some business in the fall before I go back to France to settle down again. I'll have my daughter for the summer. It'll be fun for you to have somebody closer to your age with us. She's barely seventeen and lovely-looking.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yes indeed. Bettina. Her mother and I were divorced some years ago, but we're on reasonably good terms. She lives in the Lombardy Hotel not far from here. Bet has been going to school in Switzerland. She'll join me in Saint-Tropez, where the yacht will meet us. We'll have a lovely month cruising the Mediterranean.” Billy's eyes twinkled. “Have you recovered your speech?”

“Hardly. I think I'm dreaming. When are you going to tell me what's wrong with the idea?”

“You'll have to find that out as you go along.”

“Oh, Billy.” He leaned forward and kissed his benefactor on the mouth. Their tongues met briefly, and then he felt Billy drawing back. He let him go. Billy adjusted his tie.

“You're utterly enchanting,” he said, smiling delightedly at Perry. The boy still didn't know his own power. His eyes had a bewitching, dancing candor, but his reserve remained a protective shield. “We'll be sailing in the middle of June. I understand the
Mauretania
is heavily booked, but I daresay my lawyers can find you a first-class cabin if not a suite. I take it you've said yes?”

“Oh, Billy. ‘Yes' doesn't mean anything. I've screamed with joy. I think I'm going to burst into tears. Oh, God. If you only knew. All my life— No. The hell with it. Thanks.”

“That's the nicest thanks I've ever had. Can you quit right away?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Then you can move in here. We have less than four weeks to get ready. Do you need any advice about what to bring with you?”

“I don't have much. I guess I'll just bring everything.”

“Do you have a dinner jacket?”

“What's that?”

“True, we Americans call it a tuxedo. Everybody wears white ones on the Côte, but you should have a black one for Paris and London. You'll need some dress shirts to go with them. That's a nice suit, but it's rather heavy for hot weather. Do you have some lightweight ones? You'd better get a couple. A blazer is always useful on the boat and another informal jacket to change. Several pairs of slacks. A couple of pairs of summer shoes. Some sport shirts and scarves.

“If you like their things, why don't you go to Brooks Brothers? I have an account there. Let's see. The dinner jackets, the suits, and so forth — it should come to less than $400. I'll ask my secretary to tell them you're authorized to charge up to that amount. They like you to set a limit so you won't fuss about paying the bill. If there's more we haven't thought of, you can let me know.

“We can get very smart casual things — fisherman's jerseys, canvas pants, espadrilles — from Madame Vachon in Saint-Tropez,” he continued. “Everybody goes to her, and there's no point in carrying things we can get there. Having you with me makes it such fun. I haven't enjoyed myself so much for years. Let me freshen our drinks, and then I have a little present for you.”

Perry sat back in a daze. Dollar signs danced before his eyes. He was going to have all those new clothes Billy had mentioned. He must be dreaming. It couldn't be real. He took the glass Billy handed him and drank from it thirstily. Getting drunk was probably the only reasonable thing to do.

Billy picked up a box from a table and brought it to him. “The contract,” he said playfully. “You can't back out now.”

The box was stamped with the name Tiffany, another jewelry place Perry had heard of. Inside was a black velvet jeweler's box. It contained a slim, oblong gold case with PL in block letters engraved in one corner. He pushed the catch, and it sprang open. Gold gleamed at him. There was a little rack holding a row of cigarettes.

“I've noticed you don't smoke very much, but it's nice to offer them. It's something you need.”

Needed like good food. Needed like a decent place to live. Needed like smart clothes. Needed like the intoxicating air of liberation he was breathing now. If he didn't lose it this time, he was free of the daily grind forever. Money. He had found it. He had known it was there somewhere waiting for him. He gave his head a little shake.

“I give up. I'm just going to follow you around like a little puppy. I'll lick your hand if you slap me down.” Perry grinned wickedly. “I'll even lick more than that if you'd like me to. You're going to have to show me everything, Billy. If you haven't got all your travel plans arranged, I could probably help you with that. That's something I know a little about.”

“I'm sure you'll be helpful in many ways,” Billy said with a wink and then suddenly became all business. “That's another thing. You'll probably need a couple of good leather suitcases. Don't try to pack everything in one big one. They're a nuisance when you're traveling in cramped quarters like railway compartments. Mark Cross has good things. I have an account there too. Tomorrow's your day off. Could you go out and give your notice or whatever you have to do?”

“With pleasure.” Perry let out a whoop and hugged Billy.

“Unhand me, sir,” Billy laughed. “I was looking forward to a lovely long day with you, but if you're going to be with me now, the sooner you move in, the better. We'll see how the day goes.” Billy sat up straighter and cocked his head. “Oh. Do you play bridge?”

“No.”

“You should. It's a social asset. Contract is all the rage now.”

“Are we signing one? A contract?”

“My darling boy, we already have.” Billy raised a hand to indicate the subject was closed. “I know a woman who teaches it — contract
bridge
— Baroness Oretska. You're quick. We'll have her around a few times before we go to give you some lessons. I think you'll be good at it.” He beamed at Perry and relaxed back into his chair. “Is there anything else we should talk about?”

“I don't know.” Perry bugged his eyes comically. “May be you should tell me why this is happening to a dumb kid from nowhere.”

“I think you know without being told. You're anything but dumb.” He chuckled. “You'll think I'm flattering you if I say more.”

Perry laughed. He felt wonderful. He was seized by a gale of laughter and sat back gasping. He snapped open the cigarette case and held it out to Billy. “Would you like a cigarette?”

Billy broke into the heartiest laughter Perry had heard him produce. “I'd love one. Thank you. I must get you a lighter. That's part of the ritual. Ladies love it.” He lit the cigarette for himself, and they talked about the trip.

They were going to stay first for a week in London and then go by train to the south of France and Saint-Tropez. They would have a week in Paris on the way home.

“I'm particularly pleased for Bet that you'll be there. I'm always afraid she'll get bored with Daddy and his older friends. I confess there have been some much younger ones, but that can be awkward. She'll be delighted with you. You can take her dancing and flirt with her a little. She'll be thrilled. I think we have time for a little freshener, don't you? We should go about 8. I've booked in the back room, of course.”

Perry was feeling a bit giddy, but that could be as much from the prospects that were unfolding before him as from the drink. Billy could really knock it back.

He had lost track of the fresheners when Billy said it was time to go. Billy seemed as fresh and precise as he had when he'd greeted Perry at the door.

Perry had left his little waterproof bag of toilet articles in the hall. “You
do
expect me to spend the night, don't you?” he asked.

“Of course. Tonight and every night from now on.” Billy put on a jaunty Panama hat and held the door open for him.

The thought of being introduced to “21” sobered Perry, and by the time the taxi delivered them in front of the elaborate ironwork gates on West 52nd Street, he felt as if he hadn't had a drink all evening. As they went in, the sight of the magical numbers worked into the scrollwork gave him a little thrill.

They entered a rather cramped vestibule and were greeted by a sleek-looking man in a stylish business suit.

“Still with us a little longer, Billy?” the man asked.

“Another few weeks.” Billy introduced Perry, and they shook hands. “Take care of Mr. Langham when he comes in, Jack. He's a particular friend of mine. You may be seeing a lot of him.”

“I'll make note of it, Billy. We always do our best for your friends. I think we have something rather good for you tonight.”

Perry and Jack nodded amiably at each other as a man in a tailcoat approached to take charge. He greeted Billy more obsequiously as “Mr. Vernon” and led them through a large, crowded room. Everything looked more old-fashioned and unpretentious than Perry expected in a ritzy restaurant.

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