Carol and Phillip did not speak much to one another that evening.
They had a brief cocktail together in the study before they left for the Llewellyns' farewell party. They weren't too interested in going.
Particularly Carol, who had been unusually withdrawn all day.
Phillip knew where her thoughts were, living or dying. Perhaps that was why he insisted so much that she go with him tonight. Yes, Phillip could come through wonderfully sometimes and he did pretty much always. It was a warm night, with a warm breeze, a delightful summer evening, ideal for a wonderful party. And Mrs. Llewellyn was as famous for her parties as she was for her diamonds.
They pulled up in front of the huge Llewellyn mansion. Masked guests were arriving, as was commanded in the invitations. As the gatekeeper took the car from Phillip, he reached into the glove compartment for his small black mask.
The ballroom blazed. The many-tiered chandeliers and ornate sconces were ablaze with soft pink lights. The white-covered buffet tables were sumptuously filled, eager to oblige the slightest appetite.
French provincial divans were scattered about the ballroom, but the luxurious scarlet carpet was piled so thick it was not necessary to sit or lie on anything else. A Spanish orchestra played softly at one end of the room behind an ornate screen. The music seemed to come from nowhere. Guests sat about in groups, talking, drinking, dancing.
Everyone was dressed in evening wear and masks. The effect was truly extraordinary.
A young man meticulously dressed in tails wore the head of an old shriveled bird. A buxom, rather middle-aged woman, had a rubber mask with the face of Betty Boop. The combinations were bizarre, but the guests never forgot their manners, as though they had frequently gone to balls with grotesque heads.
Carol was drinking with a group of people. She had managed to start drinking the instant she arrived. Instead of a mask, she had made her eyes up to look Egyptian, the lids covered heavily with blue-green shadow. Thick black lines exaggerated the almond shape of her eyes, and by contrast they looked silver, violet. Directly under her eyes, she wore a black lace veil, dotted with tiny sapphire sequins. Her hair was combed straight back from her forehead and fell down her shoulders.
She wore metallic dust in it, so that it shone silver and gold. Carol knew she looked good tonight.
Not far from her group was the diamond-loaded Mrs. Llewellyn and Phillip, standing together, engaged in an exchange of banalities, which Phillip charmingly tolerated. Mrs. Llewellyn wore a black half-mask, studded with diamonds.
"And so we're off for the tropical south, Phillip darling. I'm so glad we have this chance to be together after all." She pursed her lips and giggled.
Phillip looked across at Carol's exotic and remote eyes. Beneath the make-up, he sensed detachment. He beckoned her frivolously, like an indulgent father fighting his daughter's shyness, toward them.
"And here's the career girl! Carol, you look marvelous; how exotic tonight!" extolled Lady Llewellyn.
"Tell Carol what you've been saying about me, Margaret dear."
Phillip excused himself with a slight bow, winked at Carol with an expression in his eye that said, "She's all yours now, baby." Carol's eyes appeared even more mysterious as they accused Phillip of his betrayal.
"Carol darling, I was telling your wonderful father what a dreadful snob he is." She started to giggle again fitfully, when her eyes were diverted by the pendant Carol wore.
"Carol, I thought you never wore more than a pair of little pearl earring! How lovely!"
"Thank you, it's very old. I wear it sometimes."
"It's just right for you, darling."
Margaret Llewellyn touched her own heavy necklace tenderly, in a reflex movement. "It's an actual feat to keep one's objects close to one these days. You have to be smarter than the crook! Helen Braithwaite lost her every stone, my dear."
Carol was already slightly drunk and a bit bored. She looked distractedly past the babbling mouth. She watched Phillip manipulate his virulent charm. He knew she was watching him. Yes, Phillip
always amused her. His imagination was so ingenious. She was curious to see how he would be now that he was going to retire.
The one person she knew would not come out of the shadows, because he wasn't there to emerge, was Harry. No matter how diverted she became by Phillip's frolicking, by her own appearance, which everyone marveled at, by the splendor of the ball and the potential surprises it would offer, behind it all was her nagging preoccupation with Harry. If he came, it would show he cared for her. How could she even think in those terms? She was not even sure he was still at the house.
Yes, everyone was decidedly enjoying the party. Mrs. Llewellyn's voice floated back to her. It was like coming up from under water.
"And it's exactly what I said to her at the time: 'You have to be smarter than the crooks.'" The relentless babble continued, and Carol was locked in like a bubble that doesn't burst. "Now that we're on the island most of the time, I keep my precious possessions there. I wouldn't have them here for the world. Thank goodness we've been spared the island!" She paused and put her little pig paw to her mouth and giggled for the hundredth time. "You'd never guess where!"
At her last remark, Carol looked at her with mild curiosity. Mrs.
Llewellyn leaned forward and whispered with a bobbing of her head.
The bubble burst. Carol gave Mrs. Llewellyn an odd smile. "That is unique," she said.
"Smarter than the crook," Mrs. Llewellyn gaily bragged.
As the ball went on, the atmosphere became more frenetic and drunken. The frolicking was rampant, and in a sense it was a part reminiscent of the old days. Mrs. Llewellyn went behind the exotic screen where the orchestra played, took the microphone and announced that the servants were to be dismissed, and for everyone to gather in the main room as there was to be a choosing of the best masks, and of course, the surprise, the highlight of the evening.
Mrs. Llewellyn was famous for her surprises. This is what usually made her one of the strongest figures socially. Hubert, her husband, was an incurable alcoholic with a lovable disposition. He usually had to be carried away long before the party ended. While his wife was setting up the surprise, he was busy forcing one of their tiny toy Pomeranians to drink a glass of champagne. Hubert had lasted long this evening. Even he was affected by the element of anticipation in the air.
The lights went out, except for the candles in the sconces and the one elaborately tiered crystal chandelier that threatened everyone. Hanging tenuously from the middle of the high ceiling, it burned sensuously.
The orchestra played very softly, but loud enough to be noticed, going from tangos to slow rumbas. Margaret Llewellyn was holding her black half-mask as a pince nez, to facilitate her organizing the surprise. After she had collected a goodly amount of people, things started to break out like fireworks.
A giant of a man, the kind found only in the circus or on some basketball team, came forth. The large muscles of his well-proportioned body were painted a gleaming bronze, and a silver loincloth encased his genitals, the size of which no one dared to guess.
Mrs. Llewellyn drew him forth from the shadows like a genie from Aladdin's Lamp. She came up to his thigh bone. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we are going to have a new kind of 'pin the tail on the donkey.' Only after we have all had a few drags from this hashish hookah in front of me – and it is large enough to give all of you a new sensation – while you are inhaling this divine smoke, we shall watch a dance."
The light thrown from the chandelier turned a pale violet and green.
The giant helped arrange the long tubes of the Indian hookah.
A man and a woman, dressed in reddish gauze, came dancing out from behind the screen. They did a slow, sensual, Latin dance. It was exciting to watch, their olive-skinned bodies shone through the transparent material of their costumes. His face was sculptural, with black shiny eyes and long sideburns. Her hair was as short as his, but her face was delicately featured and heavily painted. Her body had the voluptuousness of an East Indian sculpture. Breasts extended directly out, but enormously round, the waist so tiny it was impossible to imagine how it supported them. The black curly hairs of her pussy were sprinkled with golden dust that sparkled beneath her costume.
They moved sensuously together, their bodies eager to be more intimately joined.
The dancing was only a sort of play in which they came very close to touching one another, but always missed. At one point the man caught her by her delightfully decorated pussy; his hand came masterfully underneath her and raised her high into the air. While suspended she removed all of her costume except for the lower half, out of which she leaped rather magically, leaving him holding it in his hand like an exotic flag, as she gracefully fell to the floor and lay on her back.
He danced a slow rumba up to where she lay. Then he danced around her, glaring greedily down at her body. Her eyes were closed, and her voluptuous body breathed heavily up and down. Somehow, as he danced around her, she caught him with her leg, and he fell softly on top of her eager cunt and began to fuck her.
No one could figure out how in that instant his cock had thrust itself into her. She smiled with her eyes closed and moved her hips rhythmically around his cock. Then, with his prick tight in her pussy, they rolled together all over the floor, and when they stopped, he was completely naked. Some of the gold dust from her cunt had caught on his pubic hairs, and they were like two nymphs cavorting in the fields.
Their audience, a bit subdued from the hashish, had allowed themselves to be taken up by the sensual movements, and though nothing extraordinary had occurred as yet, it acted upon them as a powerful aphrodisiac. They reclined on the thick, pillowy carpet, and allowed themselves to be influenced. One of the masked men reached lecherously to his partner and pulled her strapless gown brutally to her waist. The huge beautiful breasts popped fruitfully into his grasping hands.
The hashish thickened the air. The women stared at the half-naked girl. Soon, in a feverish rush of naked competition, they had stripped themselves to reveal their luscious gleaming bodies. Mrs. Llewellyn, in her evening wear, slipped about with the giant, her prize, taking care of things. Indeed, the show was just beginning.
Now the young couple had become a bit more erotic. They were lavishly eating each other for all to see. The light on them was violet.
Despite the intricacies of sex the guests were quietly involved with, this action excited them more than the fucking act, and certainly more than what they were doing themselves. Everyone watched the two soulfully.
The music had ceased except for the distant chant of a bongo drum.
They tongued each other noiselessly, her cunt moving much the same way against his ready mouth as it had against his prick.
As she simulated an orgasm, the audience oohed and ahed, and he came directly after her. The instant he started to come, what looked like a little girl dressed in a Bo Peep outfit, but who was really a forty year old midget, came tip-toeing quickly out onto the floor carrying a gold Henry VIII goblet, and caught his overflowing sperm into the ornate antique receptacle. Then she disappeared, having captured all of his release.
When they had finished with their orgasms, they rolled over on their backs for a second, and jumped up and bowed. While the audience clapped softly and assuredly, the beautiful man unstrapped something from around his waist, and in the delicate light, he was seen to be removing his cock and balls, very gracefully. The beautiful woman loosened something behind her back, and the perfectly moulded breasts fell away.
They exchanged equipment and undressed, this time completely, to the roaring beat of drums. When completed, the beautifully painted woman was a young boy, and the flamenco type man was a very sensual girl, whose small round breasts had been successfully flattened by the elasticity of her costume. The painted woman now transformed into a lovely boy, strapped the dildo over his listless organs and proceeded to bugger the newly discovered woman in the ass.
They did this comically, and as they both pretended to exchange ejaculations, the Bo Peep midget waited impatiently at their side, holding the golden goblet ready. The giant came into the middle of the floor and picked up the midget with his little finger, like King Kong and Fay Wray, and lowered her in between the couple to catch the simulated come that was flowing forth from the dildo. The giant held her patiently, and when she grandly handed him the goblet, he drank the fake come down in a gulp and licked his lips. The lights became brighter, the dual couple disappeared and people spoke for the first time. The band was playing a slow mambo.
Carol had stood in the shadows by the deserted bar. Drinking all through the exhibition and managing to stay clear of any private gang bangs, she sat quietly in the distance, not moving except to smoke the hashish. She was mildly curious to see what role the giant would play.
All this was forced interest. Actually, she never ceased to think of Harry. Where was he? she wondered. She didn't bother to be with Phillip or look for him at the ball. She hadn't seen him all evening, not since he left her holding the bag. A young man with a blonde crew-cut came up to her from out of the shadows. He, too, was fully clothed, but without his mask. "Hello," he said.
Carol turned and tried to focus her eyes on him. "Harry," she cried, expectantly, but knew immediately it was not him. "That was close in a way," he said. "My name is Tom, and I think you are higher than I am, if that's possible! We met earlier."
Mrs. Llewellyn stopped the music and announced that Gustav, the giant, kept a fabulous souvenir beneath his silver loin cloth.
Unfortunately, this could only be presented to a woman, but there was something else later on in store for the gentlemen.
Gustav came out and stood smilingly beside Mrs. Llewellyn. His face had romantic Mexican features, a slight gigolo expression, but because of his extreme proportions, he became more of a statue than a human. Mrs. Llewellyn spoke very softly. Imbedded in the end of Gustav's prick was a perfectly faceted blue-white diamond, the size of which was to be discovered. Whoever he came in would get the diamond prize.
Mrs. Llewellyn removed Gustav's loin cloth with glee. It was like slipping an enormous table cloth from the banquet table. "Now ladies, come forth. Gustav awaits you." There were many inebriated throaty giggles. The men were extremely amused, and when no one seemed to be stepping forward, several gentlemen urged their companions on.
Gustav stood smiling in the ruby firelight, his majestic prick jutting forth, enormous like the trunk of an elephant. Several women came toward him to look, to touch and, perchance, to fuck.
Carol looked up at the young man standing beside her. "Well, aren't you amused? Who do you think will win? Or doesn't this sort of thing attract you?" She said this bitterly as though talking to herself. "Yeah, why aren't you doing something obscene?"
"Let's get out of here," he said anxiously.
"Oh, you want to get out of here. Now that you're hot, you want to go off somewhere and make your own private scene. It's purer that way, huh? Less guilt, huh? Look Tom, Dick, and whatever your name is, I'm going to do one of two things right now. I am either going up there and let that fucking freak split me in two, or I'm leaving alone.
And guess what? I've already made up my mind. I'm going."
She spoke rapidly. He couldn't have said a word. She downed a large tumbler of Scotch. As she left the room, Gustav was whirling a completely naked girl around on the end of his cock, still smiling, still holding his prize.
He waved the frail girl on his prick like a banner of surrender. She screamed hysterically, "Get it in," but only the tip of his cock pierced her tiny blond cunt. Eager for the hidden award, eager to be split in half, she clutched his stiff rod with her doll hands. He jerked his hips around, his face a contortion of frustration. She clung pathetically to his majestic pole, and her body twirled like a burlesque queen's tit.
Her grasp loosened – and she flew across the room, crumbling on the thick piled rug. A young man kicked her buttock with disdain and revealed his stiff tiny prick. He shoved it into her, and she cried aloud,
"No, no, I've had that. I'm tired of that."
Mrs. Llewellyn tittered onto the stage. She patted and soothed Gustav's swollen cock.
"Now girls, who's got lots of courage and space. We don't want the diamond to lodge in some gentlemen's ass." She covered her face and coughed delicately. "If nobody else will, I will," she threatened. "After all, it isn't right for me to win my own prize."
Gustav looked hopeful. He had traveled leisurely in Mrs.
Llewellyn's pussy many times. But a sweet husky voice interrupted, "I want to try!"
A thin-hipped brunette walked to the stage. She weighed Gustav's staff in her palm. She balanced the huge balls, soft skinned and leaden to the touch. She knelt before the giant. "From behind," she directed.
"But be careful, get it in my cunt."
He lunged against her. Her red mouth was pouting open, but she remained silent. He pushed deeper. She shouted, "Wait," and rested her head on her arms. But Gustav was too near, and he pounded senselessly into her. Finally she screamed at every thrust, but stayed rigid on her knees.
The great voice thundered in the room – and Gustav shot his river into the stunned, bleeding girl.
She fell inert on her side and lay panting. Mrs. Llewellyn was having a good time. Her party game was a success. She waddled over to the panting girl.
"Darling, show me your surprise."
The girl whimpered and stuck her fingers in her cunt. A huge glittering diamond in a sea of milling sperm and blood rested in her palm.
She moaned, "Oh, how lovely," and pressed the bloody award to her breasts.
***
Carol careened up to the house. She was not sure this car belonged to her. The house was dark except for a light in Phillip's study and the night lights in the halls. She ran from the car into the house. Maybe Phillip had left the party. Maybe it was Phillip in his study and not who she wanted, since Phillip had disappeared. She was breathless as she reached the door of the library. Please God, let there be someone in there, and let it be Harry. She tore her veil off, and crumpled it in her hand. For an instant she leaned up against the door. Then she quietly opened it and walked in.
Harry sat in Phillip's heavy leather armchair, reading. When he saw her come through the door, he thought she was a stranger. Could this be Carol, dead drunk and playing games? It was hard to believe. She stood in the middle of the floor, her breasts forward and her hands on her shoulders as though she was stretching.
"There's the hermit," she teased. "Any particular reason you didn't come to your long-admired friend's going away party?"
She lit a cigarette and dropped the match on the carpet. Harry proceeded to read, ignoring her entirely.
A thousand sparks were erupting inside of her. She wanted to throw herself at him and tell him of her love, beg him to take her away, to make some decision – as long as it included her, she didn't care what.
His passivity was overpowering, however. Even in her drunken stupor, she could keep herself from being aggressive with him at least for the moment. She crossed over to the side board and poured herself a glass of scotch.
"Do you think you should have that drink?"
"What makes you think I think, honey?"
She twirled about in the middle of the room, paused, and swallowed her drink. "Would you get me another drink like a gentleman, like the gentleman I met at the ball – who didn't even have his clothes off?"
"Go to bed, Carol." Harry didn't raise his eyes from his book.
"Please pour me a drink, Harry." Carol bent slowly to the floor and rolled her empty glass toward him, like a little girl playing a game. She whimpered, "If you pick it up, it means you love me."
The glass stopped directly at his feet. Carol laughed. Harry looked at the glass at his feet for a split second, then kicked it across the room.
It smashed against the wall. He went over to Carol. Her drunken laugh was now a startled scowl. He stood directly in front of her.
"Don't say it, Harry. I know you think I'm a drunken fool, playing games. Completely out of character, isn't it?" She circled his neck with her arms.
"Isn't it shocking," she continued. "What would Phillip think about dear Carol slobbering over cool, cool Harry?"
Harry was a robot next to Carol's caresses. "I think you're afraid of me," she went on. "I think you're terrified that you might feel something. Phillip's wrong, you're not even an animal."
Harry slapped her across the face. It was like the gun going off at the races. She started to sob hysterically. He picked her up roughly and carried her to her bedroom, threw her on the bed like a rubber ball, and started to walk out of the room. She called after him in an unreal voice.
"Mrs. Llewellyn keeps her jewels in her swimming pool!"
Harry stopped cold in his tracks. "What?"
Carol had sobered up slightly. Her sobbing changed into a rasp. She shouted, "In her little swimming pool."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's true. She told me tonight at the party. It just slipped out." Half laughing and half crying, she was beside herself. "She hides her jewels in her little black swimming pool."
Harry took hold of her arm hard. "You cunt, what's your story? All this mystery for what? Keep it for Phillip. He's the one who likes to believe he is the wolf fucking Goldilocks. What an egomaniac to think his cock is the only substitute in the world for a little girl's doll. And you're a very little girl, Carol."
Harry let her arm go loose. Carol was wooden, staring blankly at him as he spoke.
"You don't really have any pride, do you? After all that efficiency has melted away, there isn't even pride."
This time Carol spoke as though she had just come out of shock, with a curious softness. "All I can say, Harry, is that if I can say I love you, if this means I haven't any pride, then I haven't. But you can't admit you love. This affair was an accident, a miracle, whatever affairs between people are. No matter how strange they become, one still finds love in them.
"I know you are going to leave. And alone. You're like a priest Harry. Your parish might be anywhere, and your flock will always be made out of the same stuff." Carol turned her head away from him and closed her eyes, trying to keep her pain from showing. She was quiet now.
"Okay, Carol." He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lit it, and blew the smoke in her direction. "Later."
He went out the door. A blue circle of smoke floated in the air above Carol's head.