Leaning over him, Anna began to move her hips. Her hair fell forward, curtaining her face. Her breasts swung. Zeppo reached up to fondle them, craning his neck to bring them to his mouth. She pushed him back down on to the bed and bent to kiss his chest. Lifting her hips, she began to edge slowly backwards. She slid gradually down the length of his body, her hair trailing across him, obscuring her. She moved until she was kneeling between his legs and her head was above his groin, and there she stopped.
Zeppo’s face, which had remained impassive, now held a flicker of animation. His eyes briefly shut, and he put his hands to Anna’s head in a gesture almost of benediction. Her hair still concealed what she was doing, but then, with a glance towards me, Zeppo moved it to one side.
The gross, slimy object was in her mouth. Her lips were stretched and distended as they conformed to its shape. Hands and fingers stroked and squeezed. Her cheeks hollowed and bulged as her face descended, engulfing more, then rose until the entire length of it was exposed. Her tongue circled, ran down the shaft to its base, then retraced its path. Her lips pursed to kiss the tip before suddenly covering it once more, slobbering over it like an uncouth child with a stick of rock.
I could feel Zeppo’s eyes on me. I looked away from the spectacle and saw that he was looking towards me with an expression of amused contempt. As if he knew I had chosen that moment to look at him, he gave a groan, and with both hands on the back of Anna’s head, slowly thrust his hips up at her. More of him slid into her mouth as he arched his back, holding her head in place. She pulled against his grip; waiting until he subsided before descending on him in a series of quick, gulping jerks. He groaned again, louder. But when his head turned towards me again, his eyes were still cold and controlled.
Abruptly, he lifted her head from him. Freed from Anna’s mouth, the thing slapped wetly back against his stomach. Kneeling up, Zeppo kissed her before urging her into a new position. She swung around until her feet were towards me, and at his coaxing lay back on the bed and opened her legs. I was directly opposite. The curly, almost black hair at the juncture of her thighs was entirely visible, and so too was the pink gash that bisected it. It glistened like an open wound, even more so when Zeppo put his fingers to it and spread it wide, exposing a glutinous hole. Then Zeppo pivoted until his crotch was once more in front of Anna’s face, angled her on to her side, and put his mouth to the raw oval of flesh.
He kept his head tilted so I could see what he was doing. His tongue lightly circled, then pierced its centre with a quick stab. I lifted my gaze to the mirror, and saw Anna inverted, her mouth on him as before. I looked away, back to Zeppo. His tongue and fingers stretched, probed, and manipulated. Heads busy between each other’s legs, they remained locked until Zeppo pulled away and knelt upright again. His face was flushed, and there was a new urgency to his movements as he helped Anna reposition herself on all fours. Kneeling behind her, he moved until they were angled obliquely away from me. There was nothing now I could not see. With one hand on her buttock, he guided himself into her with the other, permitting me to see every detail. Then, gripping her by the hips, he gave a brief glance in my direction and thrust into her. Impaled, she responded by throwing back her head, exposing the line of her throat. I stared at it, clutching at its beauty, but even that disappeared as her head sank down on to the bed and she whimpered, rocking back on her knees to offer her rump to him more prominently.
They coupled like dogs. Zeppo grunted each time he slapped against her with the viscous sound of disturbed mud. His hands gripped and clutched, pulling her back onto him. She squealed. Their rutting became more frantic. He no longer glanced towards my hiding place. His mouth hung open slackly, his grunts growing louder, and it was then I became aware of the smell. Rank and feral, it came to me faintly, but once noticed it was as pervading as rotting fruit. Suddenly the sense of deja vu returned. For an instant, my mind was taken to the dream, and I had a brief vision of another, similar scene peering through the crack of light in a partly open door, looking past the trail of discarded clothes, past the puddle of white silk on the carpet to the two naked, grunting figures on the bed, staring beyond the clutching white limbs to the faces... and then I had jerked my head away and was blundering from the room, fleeing from the strip of light and the awful, bestial noises. I reached the door at the end of the hallway and fumbled with the lock, unable to see in the darkness, but then I was outside and the noises were gone, and the night was cool, and empty, and quiet.
I stood on the pavement in front of the house, panting. A breeze chilled the sweat on my body, making me aware of how damp my clothes were. When I started to shiver I walked back to the car. I felt clammy and unclean. My clothes clung to me, sticky and abrasive. Every inch of my skin seemed sensitive to the slightest nuance of texture. The cool upholstery of the car greeted me like a balm, and I sat for a while without turning on the engine.
When I drove away, I went past Zeppo’s flat without looking at it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I intended to leave the house early the next morning. But I slept late, the result of having lain awake until almost dawn. When I realised what the time was I panicked. I quickly showered and dressed and went downstairs. The shower was a mistake, but although I had had one the night before my body still felt soiled and sweaty. Even so, I might have escaped in time had I not lingered for a cup of coffee. I had no appetite for breakfast, but it seemed unnatural to leave the house without anything. I told myself that ten minutes would make no difference, and had just taken my first sip when the telephone rang.
I did not answer. I knew who it would be, and cursed myself for not leaving sooner. Or at least having the foresight to take the receiver off the hook. I tried to ignore it, hoping the ringing would stop, but the telephone continued to clamour for attention. I picked it up.
“Morning, Donald. Not got you out of bed, have I?” Zeppo said.
“No.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
I hated the sound of his voice. “What do you want?”
“My, we are tetchy this morning! I thought you’d be full of the joys of spring. Obviously I was wrong.”
“I asked what you want.”
“Well, a little civility wouldn’t go amiss. But if that’s too much to ask for, I thought I’d pop over and see you. Have a chat. Exchange notes. Settle up.”
“I’m on my way out.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can stay in for a while longer. Don’t you want to talk about last night?”
“It’ll have to wait.”
“Donald, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to avoid me. You’re not, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh, good. Then let’s say I’ll see you in about an hour.”
“I’ve told you, I’m going out.”
“Well, now you’re not,” he said, and hung up.
I was tempted to leave anyway. I had no desire to see or speak to Zeppo, and it would serve him right to have a wasted journey. But I knew I would have to face him sooner or later. I might as well get it over with.
Predictably, he was late. When I let him in he looked even more pleased with himself than usual, if that was possible.
“Who got out of the wrong side of bed this morning?” he asked. I ignored him, leaving him to follow me into the lounge. “Don’t say you’re not talking to me, Donald?”
I turned to face him. “I would appreciate it if we could settle this quickly. You’re late as it is.”
“I’ll consider my wrists smacked.” He went to the drinks table. “Don’t mind, do you? You can have one yourself, if you like.”