‘I shall slap you. Of course it isn’t.’
‘Well can’t you get it in the jaw joints.’
‘No you can’t.’
‘Why. If you get it in other joints.’
‘I simply don’t know why, but I distinctly haven’t got it in my jaw joints anyway. You do don’t you, masquerading under your little boy innocence, possess a rather cynical impertinence. You who wanted to jump in bed with me. With this quite flaccid thing in an entirely unusable state.’
Lois on her hands and knees hovering over the prostrate Darcy Dancer. Kissing deep in the ears, at his throat, over the breasts, over the belly. Swaying biting like a hound tearing at a fox. Church bells again ringing. While one is hidden in here under Lois. Briefly away from the world. And far out over the city. Where somewhere Leila may be. O my god my love I clutch thee. Why is it not your white slender body. To which I ding. Your purple beribboned hair into which my fingers entwine. Your softly smiling lips upon which my mouth can press. Hold you grasped I still do, so bereft. And yet could hardly wait to get my mouth and hands to Lois’s breasts. And watch her ribs breathe on her so muscularly lean chest. But sounds as if instead of a simple cottage she wants me to supply a whole ruddy house. Suppose she could, if she didn’t require wages, be my artist in residence. Get her to lend a hand in odd jobs. Lime wash the boxes in the stables. Plenty of hay about upon which she can throw an artistic fit at the thought. My god she really is desperate. Tasting one’s cool goolies in her warm mouth. Climbing on top again. Before it’s even semi hard. Bending it. Heavens above. Riding me like she was in the Grand National. Over Beecher’s brook for the last time. And one jump to go. And fancy that, she’s switching to my knee. Grinding it up into her bifurcation. Growling. And screeching out. What a mad creature. She’d fuck the end of a carriage shaft. And she’ll put the fear of god into the poor old rodent. Throwing the bloody covers back. Slapping me on the thighs. Freezing the bloody hell out of both of us. Grunting. O my goodness where did they come from. She’s got her castanets. Her nipples bouncing up and down to their clack. Ah. But what magic. Miraculously getting me instantly as hard as an oak fence post. Quite wonderfully astonishing. Under starter’s orders again. The flag’s down. We’re off. Good lord the rat’s out. In the middle of the ruddy studio. On the Afghan rug. Ruddy well sitting back upon his hind legs. And bloody well eyes popping, his tiny ears twitching, watching us.
And
Clearly
Wanting
To join in
Too
20
An occasional tread of a foot on the crimson carpet over some loose board out in the hall as one awakes these Dublin mornings. To peek out of a half open eye. Find the brass lamp at my bedside. The mellow shiny chestnut colour of the dresser among the darker mahoganies. The glass panelled and curtained wardrobe doors. Flowered curtains and writing desk. Toggle switches at the door for light and ivory button for servants. And that morn, following the rat battle at Lois’s studio, there were stronger footsteps, and a pounding knock with the door sweeping open.
‘Good morning, my dear boy, good morning. Let us put forever behind us the sordidness of last evening.’
‘Rashers you ran off leaving me to be executed by a gang of thugs.’
‘Forgive me, dear boy. Once more I must abjectly put myself to ask of you amnesty if not your total amnesia. It wasn’t until I was streets away that I realized the person behind me was not you and was in fact a man in his pyjamas hysterically waving his umbrella, whose drainpipe I wrenched off his house. Honestly. And you know I was beside myself. My McCormack records shattered. But look. The sun’s up and out beaming down there over the Green. In fact it is well past twelve o’clock. Don’t you catch the fragrance of coffee and newly baked spice buns wafting across the city. The squeal and clang of trams. To and from Donnybrook. The bustle down there of people malcontent at work. Peerage being paged in the lobby. Dowagers, duchesses arriving to lunch at the ladies’ entrance down there at the Kildare Street Club. And tinker ladies already on the pavements with their bunches of violets for sale.’
‘O god, do come in Rashers. And if I am not quite at my best this morning you will of course please forgive me. I’ve not had that much sleep. Fire brigade wouldn’t let me in for an hour at dawn this morning.’
‘My precious dear boy, but how wonderful it is to have you so close by like this. Down the hall, pop up some steps two at a time and there you are. Ah isn’t this awfully nice in here. Shall I ring down for a spot of breakfast for you. We mustn’t miss the first race. I might myself have a tipple of white sparkling wine, if you don’t mind. Glorious out. Just look. Here let me open your curtains a bit. Aren’t you dear boy, delighted to be alive. To see out there. Our purple hills arise beyond our gracious city.’
‘No. It appears the pawn ticket you gave me is an already punched tram ticket to Dalkey. And your diamond cufflinks happen to be genuine imitation jewelry.’
‘O my dear boy, I know, I know what a dismal awful mistake that was for me to have made. Only noticed it later. I am so damn sorry. You see it was my way of tricking those catacomb denizen bastards into thinking they’d stumbled on the real McCoy.’
‘They would certainly have known a bloody Dalkey tram ticket when they saw it.’
‘Not in the semi dark, dear boy. Of course it was careless of me. Of course near dawn a riot finally broke forth wrecking the catacombs, Binky having made most unwisely a derogatory remark about the wife of one of his tenants. The husband returned from his nightly philandering jumped upon Binky just as he was asleep. Compressed poor queer devil’s throat into a shoelace. Then picked him up, threw him through a door, closed at the time. And finally chased Binky as he ran stark naked down the street for his life. The milkman delivering milk, fell off his horse cart and broke his arm laughing. Saved Binky’s life as his adversary also fell into the gutter laughing at the milkman. The catacombs are an utter shambles. Broke every bottle in the place. But ah. Here we are. Within these safe plush confines. Just lift the receiver. Or would you rather come join me in my neck of the woods. Lots more elbow room in my little suite you know for a spot of breakfast. No I see you wouldn’t. Another morning perhaps. But last night or rather very early morning my dear boy. I waltzed back into the lobby. To find an inebriated doctor in pursuit of a female guest. A well known surgeon no less. Crawled after her up the main stair from the lobby. Got to the top, stood up asking the lady for directions to her room. That he would in a short time, when he had regathered his equilibrium, find her. And then he fell backwards nearly into but alas just beyond my arms, and down the entire flight of stairs. And I did myself, suppressing my laughter of course, escort the lady to her room. Thinking I was on to a damn good thing. And look at my swollen fingers. She was an utter and complete maniac. Out of some Galway heap of rubble they call castles these days. She had actually pushed the doctor. And then the creature slammed the door on me. And safely inside her locked room started screaming rape. It was I who rang the fire alarm. Thought it the only sensible and humane thing to do. She’d have a ladder at least exiting her window. Ah but now. I have it all planned. The entire day ahead. An ancient but reliable vehicle is calling for us. The only Daimler in town as a matter of fact. Shall I ring for your bath to be drawn.’
‘Please give me a few minutes Rashers. To face life.’
‘Racing dear boy. We must motor countrywards. An abomination to be late. Must be quicko now, my dear chap. We shall have much jolly conversation and champagne in the various privileged enclosures. Then back to town. Black Velvet in the gilded cage. Then dispossessing ourselves of parvenus, we shall then oyster and Heidsieck in Jammet’s. And sup at the Dolphin Hotel upon a slab of haunch of a Mullingar heifer, blue rare, with some sappy rich grand cru of the Cote de Nuits. And please, dear boy, I humbly put to you don’t forget I am incognito. And remember at all times my present cognomen of the Earl of Ronald Ronald.’