Phillip sat leisurely smoking his cigar and reading the papers on a park bench in the vicinity of the sea-lions at the Central Park Zoo.
Elegantly dressed, he ate a bag of peanuts. It had been so long since he had sat in the sun, he enjoyed it. His New York Post ran a story banner: COPS TIE BOSTON AND CONN. JOBS!
"Fingers" Suspected in Both.
He smiled wryly to himself as he read the article over again. "But they'll never know," he said softly to himself.
Phillip strolled toward Central Park West. Breathing deeply and vigorously, he passed the children's carousel, teeming with tots, some attended by their nurses, others with their mothers taking an hour off before cooking dinner, still others with an older brother or sister to protect them from kidnappers.
"Shabbiness," Phillip thought, "the one thing to be avoided."
Apparently everyone else felt the same way these days. No more being content with modest living. But what was everyone doing with his money?
At least Phillip knew what to do with his money. He had taste and a genuine feeling for art, something few people, wealthy or not, had any more. Yes, he was a superior person, he thought, not snobbishly but factually. It was time to sit back and enjoy his good taste. He wasn't a glutton; he knew when to stop and not begin again. Control, that's what it was. Control was the key to his success.
He threw his shoulders back a bit further, inhaled deeply and came out on the other side of the park. Tonight would be a good time for a sort of celebration, he thought. I'll prepare a perfect dish of squab, sweet crisp, brown little squab, buttered and basted with sherry, exactly the way I like it. Haven't eaten that in a while, seasoned as only I know how … wild rice and nicely chilled Chablis. Then I'll break the news.
Phillip walked quickly into a delicacy food shop.
He arrived at the apartment, trailed by a delivery boy carrying a large brimming cardboard carton. He found Harry standing in the foyer, staring into space, smoking in his usual unconscious manner. Harry looked up surprised. "What's all this?"
Phillip beckoned him into the kitchen. "I want to fix a specialty of mine this evening. Every once in a while when I'm especially relaxed, I like to be a chef, and I must say I do it very well."
Harry raised his eyebrows in affirmation. He looked well today, almost back to normal. He had been forced to rest since the Boston job.
He had overexerted himself. Phillip knew this and was pleased tonight to see the change. Harry looked as handsome as ever in his tight fitting khakis and black cashmere sweater. Phillip tipped the boy, put some of the groceries away, and followed Harry into the living room. "Did you see the papers?"
Harry was busy mixing a drink. "Yeah, Carol brought them over this afternoon."
"Carol was here this afternoon?" Phillip questioned casually. Harry smiled and said flippantly, "We had a little game of chess. She says you taught her everything she knows."
"I have taught her a few things." Phillip made his words oddly precise.
"You're quite a teacher."
Phillip smiled ruefully, "That was the plan, wasn't it?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly.
But Phillip continued, "As far as we're concerned, it doesn't seem to be working out that way, does it?"
Harry looked at Phillip over the top of his glass. "Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Did you ever really listen, Harry?"
Harry, taken aback at the serious note in Phillip's voice, laughed.
"Still think I'm too ambitious?"
"Ambitious." Phillip repeated the word cynically. He studied Harry for a moment, as though he were looking at a stranger. "Let me put it this way, Harry. There are those who are not so ambitious and live very satisfactory lives."
Harry crossed the room and sat down on one of the Empire divans.
Aware of Phillip's seriousness, this time he spoke pensively. "People write books, Phillip, and people read them. Those books are usually about guys like me. I don't say this with conceit. Action belongs to me the way big tits belong to some women. The way I see it, the world is a million and one things to get hooked on. I have to do what I have to do. As you would put it, Phillip, it's a matter of taste."
Phillip listened attentively while he mixed a bourbon and water.
"The difference between you and me, Mr. Johns, is that you're a white-collar man, and I like to work." Harry said this less intensely, trying to keep the conversation from becoming too personal, too revealing.
"So, what does it all mean?" Phillip asked gently.
"It means that we've warmed up, we've had our breather, and now it's time to make something really big."
Phillip waited a few moments and then asked matter-of-factly, "How do you know the Llewellyns are down there now?"
Harry flicked his cigarette impatiently, slightly disturbed that Phillip was being so cool and complacent.
"It's that time of the year," he replied. "They're due there soon."
Phillip looked sternly at Harry and said, "You know you'd have to go in heavy, there isn't any other way."
"So what?" He stood up abruptly, poured himself another drink, and paced around the room several times before saying anything more.
Finally, in a softer and more convincing voice, he said plaintively,
"Listen, we probably won't have to use a gun. I've thought it all out.
Don't you understand? I know exactly how it will come off. Clean and fast. If we…"
"Harry, Harry, don't you understand yet that there is an upper limit for thieves. Goose Island is way out. People can wear one or two hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds, but when it touches the half-million mark … then it's a collection. Collections are mighty hard to crack!" His voice went from extreme sobriety to near rage. Phillip was consistent, the same in business as in pleasure. He started with a doll's smile and wound up with the grip of an elephant.
Phillip went on persuasively, "If I have a pistol, legally registered, to protect my modest property, think what must be legally registered under Llewellyn's name, to be used in an emergency as they see fit.
Rather a heavy thought, wouldn't you say? It's ridiculous to consider it.
And unnecessary."
Carol walked into the room while Phillip was talking. Harry noticed she had changed for the afternoon. She was wearing a pale pink silk dress, shirtwaist in style. The silk clung to her body and fell softly against the inside of her thighs, up high around her pussy.
Harry unconsciously made a gesture of running his hand for a second over his penis. Phillip observed this gesture. Both nodded to her simultaneously and continued talking.
"All that money you've made should have taken away some of that dangerous ambition of yours."
"You've missed the point, Phillip."
"My God, Harry, you've got to know when to stop and learn to cool it!"
"Okay, now you want to sit around and look at your paintings, is that it? I can't make it. I can't live that way."
"Look, I have an idea," Phillip said reflectively, "something that may amuse even you. There's no research necessary on this one. But first, you, Carol and I will eat those squabs as … a sort of hors-d'oeuvre. Is that all right with both of you? I'm not being mysterious, mind you. I always believe that things should be done in the best way possible."
Carol, who had mixed herself a drink and was sitting quietly observing, spoke for the first time. She was not sure of what had ensued, but she knew that things had changed, shifted and would alter even more drastically in the future. She was prepared inwardly for the consequences, for the first time in her life. But like Phillip, she wanted all situations to have some form. Sloppiness destroyed whatever was good to be taken from anything, and for this reason, her approach to life was always with reserve – that is, when conversations were involved.
"First I am most impressed with the fact that you are going to cook us one of your rare specialties. You're really feeling good these days, aren't you Phillip?" She walked across the room and leaned against him, smiling up at his face. Harry was slumped in one of the divans, deep in thought, ignoring both of them. A fire engine careened by, screaming into the night. After the noise came an unreal silence, which awakened Harry. He looked at Phillip and Carol who were immersed in caresses. Not sexy, not just yet, but affectionate. "Well, you both finally relaxed in front of me." Harry walked over to them.
"Come here, Harry darling," Carol said. "I don't want to see you so distant."
Phillip put his other arm around Harry. "Harry, brood no more." His manner of speech imitated the way certain petty hoods spoke. "Like I was saying, I got everything all fixed; you won't be bored, just trust Daddy."
Harry gave him a half smile, then devilishly grabbed his ass. "All right, this time the show is yours. I promise I'll merely follow my part."
Carol smiled charmingly at the two of them. "I suppose it's time for the chef to prepare dinner now," she hinted to Phillip.
Phillip's eyes were fixed on the silky pink folds of her dress around her belly. His voice replied sardonically, "Yes, my dear, it's dinner time indeed." He kicked aside the Persian throw rug they were standing on, revealing the smoothly varnished, blonde parquet floor.
This gesture was like a bell going off in an army barracks, and the sergeant began to give orders. "Take off your silky skin, Carol, my sweet. I want to feel the silk of your flesh, as an aperitif. You," he commanded Harry, "take your fucking finger out of my asshole – only for a moment mind you, and turn off the chandeliers while I light this delightful candelabra for atmosphere. Get to, both of you. Old Phillip gets impatient. Oh yes, Carol, lie down on the floor after you've finished disrobing."
Harry and Carol followed the orders like puppets. Phillip lighted the elaborate candelabra. His face made diabolic from the candlelight, he was now more of a ballet maestro than an army sergeant. His power continued. "Harry, don't stay too long on that side of the room. Come back next to me." Harry walked back to where Phillip was standing in the evil candlelight.
Removing his clothing as he moved toward him, Harry arrived naked at his side. Carol was standing behind them, naked also except for her panties. The shadow of her body enlarged on the bare floor. Harry moved behind Phillip, so that his ass was in front of Carol. Phillip was entirely clothed. Harry stuck his head from the rear of Phillip in between his trouser legs and with his teeth began to unzip Phillip's fly.
Phillip was amused.
As his pants fell, Carol came around to the front of him and started to take off his tie. "Daddy is really getting too old to undress himself.
Put your hands on my breasts while I'm working, it makes it so much more pleasurable."
Harry, still crouching, assisted in the most graceful possible way to remove Phillip's pants. Then he put his head back under Phillip's balls.
The circles of flesh were tight and hard, like those of an athlete. Yes, Phillip had preserved everything. Harry moved his neck slowly from side to side underneath the testicles. Each time Phillip's prick rose hard and heavy. Then it fell like a hand caressing the back of his neck.
When Carol had finished undressing him, she stood flat against his body, his hands over her ass now, her hands moving tenderly up his sides into his armpits. Simultaneously Harry and Phillip began to talk.
"I want to eat you, Carol," said Harry.
"Why aren't you naked?" Phillip asked heavily. He pulled away from them and stood like a commanding general, the muscles of his body taut and expanded as though he were about to lift iron weights.
His cock stood firm and large, like a lance.
Carol looked at him expressionless, not answering. Harry watched Phillip, though his head was lowered like someone ready to kick off a football. Nobody spoke.
"Well," Phillip demanded of Carol, "why aren't they off? Surely at this point you're not ashamed?"
"Ashamed of what, Phillip? Taking off my pants, you mean?" She threw the question back to him.
"Your cunt, you bitch." He came toward her fiercely, repeating,
"Your cunt, your cunt."
"Since when did you become a bitch?" he yelled as he tore her panties off. Harry watched stupefied. "It couldn't be that you don't want Harry to know."
Carol looked terror-stricken at him. As her panties dropped, she fell to the floor and flung her arms around Phillip's ankles. She began to sob. The smooth wooden coolness of the floor refreshed her body.
This is what a grave must feel like, she thought.
Harry moved for the first time. He did not know what was happening. Perhaps something a bit too personal to be made clear to an outsider. Maybe he would find out, but not now. Now all he saw was her beautifully rounded ass staring up into the candlelight, and her legs parted ever so slightly. He imagined how her pussy must feel next to the sweating hardness of the floor.
"I want it next to me," he thought. "I'll figure out the riddle later."
He moved as fast as a gun fighter over to her. Moved up easily behind her, he ignored Phillip, who glared down on them. She was still sobbing uncontrollably, her body shaking in hysteria.
Harry sunk his cock deep into her cunt. At first he was tempted to fuck her asshole, but she appeared so feminine, sobbing so helplessly, that his cock instinctively slipped up her vagina. Her cunt was hot and dry.
"That's right, Harry," Phillip cried. "Fuck her; fuck her till her cunt goes dry." Her cushiony but supple buttocks rotated against his stomach, softly pushing against his tightened abdomen. His body arched over her ass like a protective covering. He closed his eyes and it was like dying in quicksand.
Her passion was mixed with sorrow. She moved her cunt ferociously around his cock. As his orgasm blasted her, she twisted over on her back. Harry's prick was still coming, the sperm still bursting from his cock. Carol, no longer sobbing or ashamed, exposed the front of her body.
Her tits heaved up and down, her legs parted and raised, she forgot she was wearing her merkin. Her new cunt hairs were moist with Harry's come. No longer concerned with Phillip's reaction, she pleaded in a hoarse voice, "Phillip, Phillip, eat me. I'm sorry; I'm sorry but eat me." Her eyes were closed and she was in that other world, the world of touch.
Phillip had become so hot watching them that while they were fucking he had masturbated, making sure not to take his eyes off them.
Harry had come more quickly than he would have thought. It wasn't until he saw Carol roll over and Harry's prick still swollen with come that he began to have an orgasm himself. His sperm flooded into his hands.
Ignoring Carol's cry, he jumped on top of Harry, pushing his sticky rod into Harry's waiting mouth as he grabbed Harry's prick with his own lips. They finished each other off masterly. While they consummated their pleasure, their cocks home at last in one another's mouth, they heard Carol's pleas.
Harry opened his eyes and saw her lying, legs pulled back, revealing her open-mouthed cunt. The blond hairs of her pussy looked like lace against the lips of her pussy. The little pink-tongued clitoris pouted out stiff, like a minute penis. His sperm, still fresh, came from her vagina and formed a glaze over her genitals.
She cried for Phillip, but Harry answered, "Will I do?" No sooner had he erupted in Phillip's mouth, when Phillip felt Harry's prick grow up again, hard and strong, like a big boy's. Harry pulled away from under Phillip and crawled to Carol's enfolding legs. His mouth pushed against her pussy and moved around as though it were a food he had been deprived of for years. He licked her until he could no longer taste the sperm he had left in her.
She cried in ecstasy, grinding her cunt frantically against his mouth, crying, "Fuck me with your tongue, baby, please." He slipped his tongue deep inside her and moved it like a cock. His hands were under her ass, so that her pussy was as close to his face as it could possibly be, and he moved her around his mouth like a seal playing with a ball.
Phillip was out of his mind with jealously and excitement, one emotion more intense than the other. My role tonight seems to be relegated to that of the vicarious, he thought. I must prove I am a bit more normal! He caught Harry's silky rod in his hand, stroking it hard.
Then, as Carol sighed out her orgasm into the firm lipped receptacle of Harry's burning mouth, Phillip moved his asshole under and up against Harry's bursting cock.
It caught fast and steely in that well-used area, but tonight it was different. It was harder and it knew what it wanted. It seemed to want to rip his anus in two and that was all right.
When Carol came, Harry placed his fingers gently up her mysterious pussy and felt her vagina vibrate against his hand. He moved his prick deep inside Phillip's ass. He swung it in him like a huge clapper inside a great bell.
Carol heard Phillip groan in passion and crawled to him, sliding her hands under his stomach. Tracing the hair line tenderly down to his fat, rock-like prick, she worked it gently, rhythmically, with the moving of his hips. Harry's fire of flesh made the world's greatest carillon ring.
Carol wanted to be fucked. Perhaps if she hadn't tried to keep her secret from Phillip, it would have worked out differently. She still didn't know if he had observed. She was nervous with passion. Phillip responded to Carol's fingers, and when Harry's stomach lay flat against his ass with exhaustion, Phillip slipped away and came to Carol like an old dog coming home.
He moved her gracefully around so that she was flat on her back, her arms extended, crucifix style. The candles were very low now. Some of the wax had splattered on the shiny floor, and some of it had dripped onto their bodies.
"You look beautiful," Phillip whispered to Carol as he mounted her.
Both their organs were like glue pots. Phillip plunged far and pulled slowly, each thrust made her cry out. Suddenly, in the midst of extremely sensitive fucking, Phillip froze at the fuzzy sensation around the base of his cock. It had been so pleasurable he had lost himself in that sensation. But it was Carol, his darling he was fucking, and he remembered like a bolt of lightning.
His prick became cemented in her cunt. He looked down at her organ and there, as if by magic, she had grown a perfect cunt wig.
Carol's hands dug into his back and down his buttocks into his asshole.
She tried to indicate by pressure for him to continue fucking her, until she realized that it was really Phillip who was on top of her, and that she was really Carol.
Phillip looked hard at her new pussy hairs. She dared not say a word. Each time Phillip ravished her, he felt he was the wolf raping Goldilocks, sucking the purity anew. To her astonishment, his cock didn't diminish within her, she could feel it, eager and sure, ready to spill its milk at any moment.
Then, saying nothing, he withdrew, leaving her soul and her cunt gaping. He prodded Harry's asshole with his large toe. Harry was in a drug-like state, lying where Phillip had left him previously.
"Harry, Harry," Phillip prodded, "go to our young woman and fill her for me. Go now," he directed. Harry rose like a somnambulist and fell on top of Carol. Phillip stood above them. Harry fucked her with Anonymous The Pleasure Thieves Page 77
passion, the kind of passion he would lay anyone with. Carol's eyes were fixed on Phillip's face, while Harry serviced her with professional assurance.
She looks at me, Phillip thought, but if she wears that artifice, it's because she wants him. I am not at all jealous, but she will never know. As though this last thought gave him an extra surge of adrenaline, he crouched over her head and rammed his maleness into her mouth. She sucked on it like a baby taking its meal.
Carol loved the feel of Harry's prick in her. The exotic bird had found its nest. She had always known it would be that way; they fitted without effort. The passion was there before the technique. She wondered if he knew that.
His body was erupting against hers, each movement an explosion.
Phillip pushed Carol's mouth away from his cock, back into the secret darkness of his anus. She ran her tongue around the supple flesh walls and made delicate circles with her tongue in his asshole.
Harry's head bobbed ferociously in front of Phillip's extended, wavering cock. At the point of his orgasm, he caught it in his mouth.
The three of them came as the last candle flickered out. They were in utter darkness, like mighty mountains shooting volcanic fires.