Lawrence Block - Getting Off

“I wouldn’t let a man inside me.”

“Why not? You like it when I do you with a strap-on. Don’t tell me you haven’t got the urge to try the real thing.”

In the end he agreed to it. “To keep you happy,” he’d told her, but that’s not all it was. He’d dismissed the questions she’d raised, shrugged them off and waved them away, but they came back. They were, truth to tell, things he’d wondered himself.

But not in St. Louis, not anywhere in Missouri. Instead they flew halfway across the country where they checked into a good hotel under false names. They had dinner in their room, and he barely touched his.

If he was this nervous, he told himself, then he really did need to go through with this.

There was a gay bar just blocks from the hotel. He walked to it and sat in a corner nursing a gin and tonic. Men approached him, and his manner was amiable but distant.

“Pick a cute one,” she’d said, but none of them struck him as cute. They were men, they didn’t appeal to him. But in the end he chose a sort of male ingénue, a willowy young man whose big brown eyes were his most remarkable feature. Their lashes were long, and enhanced by mascara.

Brady bought him a drink, a Stinger, and the youth said he could really use it, because his rent was past due and he didn’t know how he’d be able to pay it. Brady said he might be able to help, and Darwin said that would be just wonderful.

Back at the hotel, Darwin was not happy to discover that he had two people to play with, and that one of them was a woman. It took a few drinks to loosen him up, and Brady learned the answers to a couple of the questions Angelica had raised. The acts were interesting, though not ones he’d feel a need to repeat, and the satisfaction of imposing his will on the boy was similar to what he felt with the women Angelica picked up.

But Darwin cringed at Angelica’s embrace, and was unable to maintain an erection with her. And when they tried to get him to go down on her he burst into tears. It was not the ending they might have hoped for, and they stuck him in the shower to sober up, then gave him several hundred dollars and sent him off into the night. He left, whimpering, and that was the end of that.

Now, though, Brady realized the evening should have ended differently. With Darwin’s face forced between Angelica’s legs, while Brady was lodged deep inside him. And then, at just the right moment, one hand on the boy’s chin and the other gripping that long hair. And a quick yank, and the neck snapping.

It would have been so simple, and so satisfying. By the time anyone found the body, they’d have been halfway home, and no one would have a clue who’d snuffed out the young man with the slim hips and huge eyes.

And that young man wouldn’t get to tell his friends about the disgusting couple he’d been with, and how Mr. Macho Man had sucked him off.

Brady, watching the two women now, thought of what might have been. He wished he could turn back the clock and the calendar and make that singular evening come out right.

He looked at Missy, who was every bit as doe-eyed as Darwin. And he felt an unaccustomed tingling in his hands.

Angelica lay on her back with her eyes closed and felt Missy’s hand settle on her belly and make its way to her loins. How tentative that hand had been earlier, and how sure of itself it had become!

“It’s so perfect,” Missy said.

“You do seem fond of it.”

“So smooth and bare. Like a little girl’s, but not like a little girl’s at all, you know? I can’t keep my hands off it.”

“The first time I had it done, I couldn’t keep my own hands off it. And as for my husband—”

“He likes it?”

“I knew he would. It was a surprise. And it made him very happy.”

“Well, it came as a surprise to me. And I have to say it made me very happy, too.” A pause. “Maybe I should have mine done.”

“If you decide to,” she said, “there’s really only one place in town to go. I’ll write it down for you later. And if you tell her I sent you, you may get a little extra.” Missy seemed baffled. “Catherine’s an artist,” she explained, “and a great fan of her own work. If she likes you, you’ll get a muffing along with the waxing. I always do, and that’s the part Brady never hears about.”

But of course he did, and was always after her to recruit Catherine for a party. But then where would she go for a waxing? One had to be practical.

“But that’s for later,” she told Missy. “Get over here and kiss me.”

Should she have the girl one more time? She loved to keep Brady waiting, but not forever. And she really didn’t want to wait any longer herself. She wanted to see the look on Missy’s face when Brady appeared, and when she realized what was coming, and that there was nothing at all she could do about it.

Deftly she slipped free of Missy’s embrace. She opened a drawer in the nightstand, took out a handful of silk scarves. Missy caught sight of them, puzzled, and Angelica moved her hand and let the silk trail over the girl’s body.

She said, “Missy, darling, can we try something?”

“What?”

“It’s my favorite little game. I want to tie you up.”

“Oh.”

“I know you’ll love it.” As she talked, she reached for Missy’s wrist, and was taken aback when the girl pulled her hand away. “Just let me show you,” she began again, and reached out, only to have Missy once again draw away.

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Missy said, and there was something different about her voice. It seemed stronger. “And we’ll try it in a little while. But before we do that I’d like to tell you about my own favorite fantasy.”

“Oh?”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” Missy said, “but I’ve never had the chance. Can I tell you? You won’t laugh when you hear it, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“I have this fantasy of being with a couple. A man and a woman, and all three of us in bed together. The ideal woman — well, you’re the woman of my dreams, no question. And the man would be tall and dark, and very distinguished-looking, with just a touch of gray at the temples. Like the man you were sitting with tonight before you came over to the bar.”

Was this really happening?

“That was his car in the garage, wasn’t it? The engine was still warm. He left before we did and was here when we got home, and he’s behind the screen right now, isn’t he?”

“Who are you, Missy? Really?”

“Me? I’m just a girl who’s never had such a hot evening in her whole life, and I have the feeling it’s just getting started. What’s your husband’s name?”

“It’s Brady.”

“Brady and Angelica. Perfect. And little Missy, the luckiest girl who ever lived. Brady? Come out from behind the screen, why don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to get over here and fuck me?”

So many ways to do it. Combinations and permutations, no end of them.

Curiously, sex had never been that important to her. For all the men she’d gone to bed with, the sex was never what it was really about. She enjoyed it and she was good at it, she liked giving pleasure and liked taking it. Her partners always had orgasms, and she liked it when they did. And she generally had one herself, and she liked that, too, because what was there not to like?