J. Donleavy - Schultz

“Hi ya Greta.”

“Who is that girl.”

“Hey calm down honey. You know his Lordship. Well that’s his niece.”

“What is niece.”

“A relative, like uncle or aunt. She came all the way up from the country to the wedding. Like I’m doing his Lordship a favour. She’s just at a momentary loose end in town. Hey gee that smells like apple pie.”

“I bake one for you because you say it is your favourite.”

“Well blueberry is. But that’s really swell. Apple pie is great.”

“What lucky girl she is who married his Lordship. He is so kind. So handsome.”

“He’s fucking rich beyond the dreams of avarice too.”

“What is this avarice.”

“Jesus honey, it’s just a common disease we all got. And hey while I take his Lordship’s niece for a drink could you get a little snack together just for the two of us.”

“O yes I cook ravioli.”

“Swell. Make a salad. Leave out onions. And I got a great idea. A quiet evening at home. How about that. Hey now what’s the matter.”

“But now you go out. I would like to go out too. Again I am left I am lonely.”

“Sure. No problem, I mean don’t worry, soon as I get rid of her I’ll be back. Gee I just notice. In this light what a nice few freckles you got.”

“I am more than just the freckles.”

“I know that honey. I know.”

Roxana walking sedately at Schultz’s side down the street. Telling little stories about his Lordship. Of how he wore two different shoes to the wedding. And for that previous entire week had dined only on bananas.

“His Lordship is also fond of draining his ponds. Taking the mud from the bottom and removing it to his vegetable gardens. He so dislikes wasting anything.

“Jesus is that the only problem he has.”

“O no, sir.”

“Sigmund, for christ’s sake.”

“Very well, Sigmund. His Lordship also has found that somehow a nasty pike has got into the moat and has eaten nearly all his goldfish.”

“Holy Jeeze that is tough.”

“Yes he is most upset. And now every one of the castle staff is nervous awaiting her Ladyship’s arrival in residence.”

Turning under an archway into a mews. Opening the door to this crowded smoky interior. With this healthy cheeked blue big eyed girl in tow. Led into this den of high pitched voices. A sprinkling of debutantes oooing and aahing. Their boy friends talking of motor cars. The viscosity of oils, speeds of acceleration, smoothness of transmissions, and the safety of tyres. Even a champagne cork popping. As Schultz and Roxana took seats on this bottoms polished oak bench in this cubbyhole.

“Jesus. You can have something more than a glass of bitter beer.”

“O no, that’s exactly what I want. And also I want to tell you something.”

“Sure.”

“You remember when you were having breakfast. And what you said.”

“Where. What. What did I say.”

“At Nectarine Castle that morning in your bed. You said you wanted to fuck me.”

Schultz in the middle of a sip of beer lurching forward in his seat. As the mouthful swallowed the wrong way. Choking and sputtering, Schultz spat out back into his glass. Roxana clapping him on the back.

“Christ excuse me. But you believe in direct language honey.”

“Yes.”

“Jesus. Just give me a second or two. I got to think.”

“I have said the wrong thing, haven’t I. Exactly what you weren’t expecting.”

“No no. I mean I wasn’t expecting. But it was beautiful the way you said that. Wow.”

“Were you thinking you were going to have to chase me, tear my clothes off, throw me down on my back and prise open my legs.”

“Honey. Jesus not so fast. It’s just that at this moment I am in the middle of a lot of deep thoughts that are hanging over the crossroads of my life.”

“I should not have called upon you.”

“No, no, it’s absolutely perfect you did. But christ, what kind of environment are you living in down there at his Lordship’s.”

Schultz lighting a cigar, put aside his beer and popped back a brandy. Taking Roxana by the hand. Her fingers tightening in a reassuring squeeze. Prick painfully swollen caught the wrong way in the underwear. The day darkening. This girl’s cunt I can read in her face. Just like lips pouting soft, like half a bite of a ripe sweet black cherry. Holy god what’s happening to me. I don’t want to totter into old age with a bitch and her mother setting me up as a machine to provide them with the lifelong comfort of caviar.”

“Honey I think I need some fresh air.”

Schultz and Roxana walking arm in arm in the shadows of branches along this fence of Belgrave Square. All the shrubbery and trees in there. Never even noticed this jungle growing right in front of my nose. And this should happen to me right now. A doll. Long brown soft gorgeous hair. Ladies treat each piece of ass they hand out as an investment in their future. I’m already laden down carrying portfolios. And if I put it up this mouth watering unspoiled country girl his Lordship will be trying to knock the shit out of me with a cricket bat.

“Gee honey.”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I can say. You really have got me with such a hard on I’m speechless.”

Schultz tiptoeing behind Roxana up the front steps of Four Arabesque Street. His finger over his lips for silence. Slipping the keys in, the bottom one, now the top one quietly one at a time. Eyes staring into my back. From the Ambassador’s windows. Get Roxana up the stairs and quietly into the bedroom. If only I could screw with the peace of mind that I had the kitchen door locked.

Schultz sniffing the ravioli scented air as he and this latest country fresh morsel softly, slowly tread along the hall and up the stairs. Jesus I could also be down feasting around the kitchen table. With both ladies jumping up in turn to serve the courses. Ended with apricot brandy from the bottle in the library. While I supply laughter doing a post prandial jig around the floor followed by a partial strip tease and my own special erection war dance.

In the semi dark of Schultz’s bedroom. Roxana sitting on the side of the bed. The rustling sound of her taking off clothes. A streak of light coming through the curtain. Eight thirty p.m. by Big Ben. Roxana standing. Putting her hands behind her back, and undoing a clasp. A naked Schultz lying on the bed. His erection twitching and pointing all over the ceiling. And holy shit. Here they come. Loose into my personal view. A pair of luscious tits. Nipples sticking out engorged for sucking. My palms itching. My god, her pubic hair. Shape of a black heart. A mole on her belly. Perfect soft and fluffy heftiness in the thighs.

“Now Sigmund. Now, you can throw a spine electrifying fuck into me. Because here I am.”

“Jesus you sure are kid.”

Schultz reaching up to take this Roxana softly on top of him in bed. Roll her over. The smell of her. Musk. The feel of her satiny silk. Christ her fingers. She’s playing a magic symphony over my shoulders, my back, my arse. Jesus my motto used to be don’t waste time with women you’re not fucking. And here’s this gift of the gods arrived because I wasted a minute showing her some attention.

The door of the bedroom opening inch by inch. And stopping. The eye of a human head peeking in. Watching. Schultz, all hands and lips all over this creature. The door coming further ajar. A long fingered hand holding it. A slim wrist disappearing upwards into a blue sweater. Schultz’s head between Roxana’s legs and her hands gripped in his black curls. As a right shoulder comes round the door and a left hand closes it behind. The entire slender honey blond Greta tiptoeing into the room. Moving step by step closer. Schultz feeling Roxana’s thighs stiffening tight around his ears. Her hands dug in pulling his head by the hair.