Decadence (28 page)

“Take the lead. I shall play the role of the dainty female and allow you to be the man.”

“Tell me the truth about you and Captain America.”

“Captain America?”

“The soldier who you find a reason to see several times a week.”

“Men and their insecurities.”

“Women and their deceptions.”

“If we are deceptive it's only because you're insecure.”

“We are insecure because we know more about the mendacities of women than we care to admit.”

“If you say so. I'm not a man so I will not pretend to know how men think or what they feel.”

“He's your lover. He's been inside of you. He knows you as I know you. I met you years before him and he makes love to you.”

“Once.”

“You bedded him the night that you came to know him.”

“I still haven't slept with him again.”

“The first time? That sounds very anticipatory, don't you think?”

“Six months ago. At the W Hotel in Midtown Atlanta. For me there is definitely something about the W hotels that . . . never mind. Six months ago we did it. I left before the morning. Before the sprinklers came on. No breakfast. No cuddling. Not even a hug since then. No kisses. No intimacy. He was asleep. I left him without saying good-bye. It was over. Then we met again. We don't mention it. I think that we have only alluded to that moment once. But nothing in detail.”

“So there was an immediate sexual attraction that was acted upon.”

“And I have to tell you that night I was with him, the only night that I have ever been with him, it was a ménage à trois.”

“So. The other person, male or female?”

“There was another woman involved.”

“You were with him and another woman.”

“It was like that. So that tells you that it was all about fun and exploration.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

“Very. But there is no sex, not since that one night.”

“The woman?”

“I have no idea who she was. I'm not a lesbian, if that's what you're wondering. I don't wake up craving women. I don't dream of being with women. But I love to feel a woman's touch, love to experience her sensibility and texture every now and then. Because in some ways it feels like I am exploring myself. I get to be a virgin all over again. The woman that I met, the woman who was with Bret and I, she was a foreigner. I don't know her name. We all needed the same thing that night. We all had the same energy, the same liberalism, and were open to fantasies. I didn't know Bret's name until I ran into him again. It was a zipless night. A night of laughter, dancing, foreplay, and much-needed sex.”

“You say things that are so outrageous, I never know when to believe you.”

“Here. Take my cellular. This is his number. Push send. Ask him.”

He pushed my phone back toward me. “I'm not calling him.”

“Then drop it and stop asking me about him unless you're trying to be his friend.”

“You're a swinger. You don't look like what I would consider a swinger would look like.”

“Since the rumor is that most are fat, old, and unattractive, I take that as a compliment.”

“But why? With all that you have accomplished, as beautiful as you are . . . why?”

“When the need arises, when my mind, body, and soul need stimulation and satisfaction on a corporal level, I answer my body's calling, and I prepare myself. I go out into the world and I seek satisfaction, make love to other people. I have enjoyed making love with you, but you are not available in my times of need, will not be available as you have responsibilities. I have responsibilities as well. And this might sound contradictory but if you were available, I'm not sure that I would like that. I will not wait for you. I can't be owned by you. I can share myself with you. But I will want to experience others.”

“Other men.”

“And women as well. I am exploring my sexuality, my limits, my likes and dislikes.”

“Women are now featured on the list of those you desire to be intimate with.”

“Yes. That door has been opened and I am not ready to close it, not yet. I surrendered to a curious moment a few years ago. It was exciting. But a woman can't do for me what a man does. A woman could never be more than an entrée, where a man is the main course.”

“You belong to a hellfire club.”

“Hellfire club. I haven't heard that term in aeons. That was a wonderful era in literature.”

“Is it not an accurate description of such an organization?”

“I belong to an exclusive club for high-society rakes and rakettes, an Order of the Friars of Saint Francis of Wycombe. I am a very recent member of a hellfire club. But that is all that I can say about that.”

“And to be clear, you have joined and gone to your hellfire club.”

“I have joined. And I have gone.”

“How many times?”

“Does my wickedness disgust you? Does knowing that my yoni is not pristine piss you off?”

“Often? How many times?”

“This is where I feel the harsh judgment begins, so this is where the interview ends.”

“
Fais ce que tu voudras
. Do what thou wilt.”

“That French phrase pretty much sums up the philosophy of the club. Of all hellfire clubs.”

He nodded.

I said, “You're angry.”

“You anger me. But anger is a form of love. Without love, there would be no anger.”

“Anger is part of love. Both invade the brain like meningitis. Too bad we can't look inside the brain, into the organic and see what happened, what happens to all brains, to the organic wiring and ripples of light. I digress. I'm starting to sound like . . . someone that I . . . find objectionable. That was his logic back in college. So. Then what is the opposite of love? When are you truly free?”

“Indifference. Indifference is freedom from love. From the politics of love.”

“Yes. When you don't care, when you no longer give a fuck, then you are free from madness. But when you don't give a fuck, you are dead. You feel nothing and care about nothing.”

“That mouth of yours.”

“I was told that I had a beautiful mouth made for blow jobs.”

“So ladylike, brilliant, then you speak vulgarities in the softest, sweetest voice that makes vulgarities become poetry, make each crudity sound like a flower. That mouth, that mouth makes your intentional uncouthness feel like a warm summer rain. All from your mouth.”

“The mouth that you love to feel sucking you. The mouth that makes your toes curl, the mouth that makes you ache and moan.”

He paused. “Where are the beautiful roses that I gifted you?”

“When I left, things became hectic and I hurried to fulfill an obligation. I had to leave them in the care of a dear friend. If you promise to not be judgmental, to be quiet, I'll take you to them.”

“Where are they?”

“With my friends.”

“Which friends?”

“The libertines. They are here. The hellfire club is here.”

Sex.

The word
sex
was invented in 1382. The word
sex
is not in the Bible, not in the King James Version. Adam
knew
his wife. And Cain
knew
his wife. Some say that one night while he was drunk, Noah's son
knew
him. There was a lot of
knowing
going on. The word
fuck
showed up around 1475. Some think that it was derived from Middle English
fucken,
which came from German
ficken
. Others believed the urban legend that it meant “fornication under consent of the king.” Or “for unlawful carnal knowledge.” Dozens of variations of that word as an acronym. The kinder term
booty call
showed up in the 1990s, thanks to comedian Bill Bellamy and a song by an R & B group called Blackstreet, and it became what we called midnight rendezvous.

•   •   •

I used my key to open the door to the primary suite.
Holding his hand, I led Prada inside.

We walked into one of the rented suites; this suite had five scented candles lit, the scent of ginger and pumpkin. Shadows on the walls, music down low, and lovers in the throes. Three couples. One was on the bed. The next couple used an armless chair. The third pair of lovers was on the floor. We walked into a room of knowing. Prada tensed. Shocked. Embarrassed. Ready to hurry from the room. But I took his hand, let him know it was okay to be here. We watched the couple on the bed. We watched Rosetta and her husband. Rosetta wore a golden negligee and red high heels, her hair down, tousled enough to prove that she had been making love awhile. He took over, took the lead. Her back arched. Her face tensed. His buttocks clenched with his every thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him into her harder and harder, again and again. She was wet. I heard her wetness. It made me tingle. I knew that move, understood how it changed the shape of her vagina, and knew how it gave a new massage, a new sensation. Soon they both moved, danced their dance, a beautiful dance of give and take and give and take and give and take, of emanating the feeling of euphoria and joy, of flooding the room with dopamine.

I left Prada by the door, stepped over the couple that was writhing on the floor, and went to the bed, went to Rosetta. I touched the side of her husband's face. He smiled. I waited while they changed positions, rested on their sides, in a very romantic spoon. Not performers. Lovers. Husband. Wife. While I traced my fingers over her skin, while I traced my fingers over his skin, they kissed for a while, Rosetta's neck craning to meet his face, accept his tongue as he too rubbed her body. I squeezed her breast, pinched her nipples, made her coo. She drew her knees up, a signal that she was ready for him to be inside of her again. He worked his lingam inside of her. She was wet. He went in with one smooth stroke. My hand was on her. I wanted to feel her energy at that moment of intrusion. I wanted to feel what she felt like when his energy became part of her. She sighed upon penetration, released the sweetest sigh and her face changed and she lost control and became someone else, as we all became someone else during rapture.

Rosetta's voice trembled as she asked, “Who is your friend?”

“His name is Prada. He flew here from London.”

“Where are your manners? Proper introduction, please?”

“Rosetta, I would like to introduce you to Prada. Prada, I would like for you to meet Rosetta.”

She said, “Hi, Prada. Nice to meet you. I would hug you but I'm a little occupied on the inside.”

He nodded.

She said, “Prada, this is my husband, Jeremy. Jeremy, I would like for you to meet Prada.”

The men waved at each other.

Jeremy adjusted his angle, and he thrusted. Rosetta trembled. She clamped her hand over her mouth to hide her moans, to eat her moans. A moment passed. I grinned and watched her.

As Rosetta shuddered in orgasm, Jeremy looked at me and said, “Enjoyed the film.”

I kissed Jeremy on his cheek, and then I leaned and kissed Rosetta on her forehead. Her fingers traced the side of my face, my lips, her husband stroking her, her expression that of a profound bliss.

She whispered, “You made it. Thought you had gone with your parents.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look very beautiful with a dick inside of you?”

“I feel beautiful when a dick is inside of me. Especially my husband's dick.”

“I should sit on your face.”

“You are one nasty bitch.”

“One day I will.”

“Not before I sit on yours.”

We laughed.

Then I sucked her nipple. I did that and absorbed their conjugal energy, their sexual energy.

She came again. While he stroked her, while I bit her nipple, she arched her back, trembled, moaned. He stroked her harder. I took my mouth away from her softness and looked at Prada.

Prada was still by the door. He hadn't fled the room. He stood with his hands in his pockets. He saw me, revealed. I felt like a vampire exposed, a nightwalker caught feeding. I stepped over the couple on the floor, stepped over the woman's long legs, and returned to him.

I asked, “You're okay with this?”

“This is a different version of you.”

“We are all different behind closed doors. I have invited you behind mine.”

“Never imagined you . . . like this.”

“Shall we leave? Have I disgusted you?”

“No. Let's stay. Let's see where this takes us.”

I kissed him. He put his arms around me, held my ass, and gave me his tongue. I stood next to Prada. Felt his discomfort wane as what was abnormal become normal. Then I held Prada's hand and watched the other couple. The man craved to be on top, facing away, one of the positions popular in the club. He asked her to lie down with her legs lifted and spread. He changed his position, eased down on her, had his head going toward her feet. For a moment it looked as if they were about to ninety-six, but this was something different. Muscle man lowered himself between her long legs and entered her that way, in reverse. He found leverage, and thrust backward as she held his ass, as she held his ass and moaned and pulled him toward her, pulled him deeper inside of her. While he thrust she spanked him, slapped his ass over and over. Then she teased his chocolate star and slid her middle finger inside. He fucked her while she finger-fucked his ass. With her long arms she reached down and played with his balls, squeezed his ass. Soon, as they moved, they finger-fucked each other in their chocolate stars at the same time. She stimulated his prostate. He thrust harder, and she did the same with her finger, behaved like the man, continued finger-fucking her lover, and each time she put her finger in his ass to her knuckles, he slapped her ass harder. She stopped fingering his chocolate star, then slapped his ass harder and harder, and he stroked her harder and harder, and as his toes curled, as her beautiful shoes slipped from her feet, they moaned and moaned and moaned.

I regarded Prada. He stared at them, then looked at Rosetta and her husband. One couple made love like a fairy tale come true. Another couple fucked like savages. Prada shifted a hundred times. I ran my hand across his crotch. He was aroused. Severely aroused.

I asked, “Where is everyone else?”

As the basketball player panted like she was in heaven, she raised a trembling hand and pointed at the door. Holding on to Prada's crotch, I led him to the door that separated this room from the next suite.

A pink sign was on the door that led to the adjacent bedroom.

ANNEX
OF
DECADENCE
.
THE
RULES
OF
THE
CLUB
APPLY
.

Below the sign was a titillating oriflamme, an image of a ménage à trois.

Prada asked, “There is more?”

“There is more.”

We opened the next door and stood amongst many libertines. Unbeknownst to me, four connecting suites had been rented. There was plenty of space for creative Doers. There also was food, wine, and other alcohol. She didn't see me enter the room. The woman who had informed me of this club months ago when we were on the movie set in South Carolina; Lola Mack didn't see me. She was in rapture, focused. She climbed on top of her tall, dark, and handsome lover, held his lingam, smiled down on him as she squatted, amalgamated bodies, raised, lowered, did it with no hands, with a smooth and sweet rhythm, like a ballerina up on her toes, then down on her feet, then back on her toes.

Her friend, the attorney Carmen Jones, the Jamaican, was at this party as well. Her daughter wasn't here. The attorney was on the bed, seated on top of her lover, leaning back in slow motion, gently easing back until her back touched the bed. The next couple was just as hot. It was Chandra. She was with a dark-skinned man who was not selfish. She sat on him with his face to her back. Like Carmen had done, she eased backward until she was on top of his strong chest. He squeezed her breasts while she played a song on her clitoris. Lola Mack, Carmen Jones, Chandra, most of the women wore exciting negligees. A few were nude, but most wore lingerie. They were adorned in high heels and jewels. They were hungry socialites. Their sounds were beautiful, moans that blended like the musical instruments of the Danish National Concert Orchestra & Choir playing at Ledreborg Castle, sixteen vestal virgins with amazing voices, soft, seductive sounds that rang like mandolins, violins, flutes, clarinets, and alto saxophones. A few were like opera singers; lipstick-painted mouths stretched open wide, as exotic notes rose. We watched women and men, married couples, boyfriends and girlfriends
ficken
with love.

Prada held my hand as I moved through the crowd.

I asked him, “Want to have sex?”

“Yes, let's go to my suite.”

“No. Here. Now.”

“In front of everyone?”

“I can have a beautiful woman suck you while you eat me. Or we could both suck you at the same time. Ever had two women give you head at once? One sucking your shaft, the other your balls.”

“You would like that.”

“I would like that, but you would love that. Or we can ask two women to do that while you lick me to orgasm. We could love that.”

“Is that what you and the soldier did?”

“You can call him and ask him. He might even draw you a few pictures.”

“Is it?”

“It is what we did. Let me find a woman and I can show you everything that we did.”

“I want you but I want you to myself for now.”

“You want to fuck me.”

“Yes.”

“Then say it.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Say it louder.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Scream it.”

“I'm not going to scream it.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Then let's sneak inside of the bathroom. I'll make you scream.”

“Your period.”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“For practice.”

He followed me, taking in this glorious annex to fantabulust world. But the bathroom was occupied. It was a black couple. I had no idea who they were. They were in the shower, him behind her, her bumping into him over and over, him trying to keep his footing. The bathroom held humidity, the mirrors steamed as water fell over their hard bodies. Two more couples entered the bathroom and watched the show. I kissed Prada again. I was on fire. My lust was strong. His dick was a brick. I wanted to rape him. We stopped kissing and I stood in his arms, my back to his chest, my ass against his erection, my ass wagging against his distressed lingam, moving up and down on his hard-on, one of his hands on my breast, the other between my legs. We watched the joy of sex as if we were at a concert at Queen's Hall.

I asked, “Can you love this part of me? Can you love the mermaid, the nymph, the dryad?”

He pulled my hair back and sucked my neck, bit my ear, sucked my ear, growled. The couples next to us were making out too. Soon one of the women put hotel towels down on the tiled floor and eased down on her knees. When she started giving her lover an intense blow job, the other couple, the man put the petite woman on the counter, opened her legs and he gave her sex his tongue.