Carol looked up at the young man standing beside her. "Well, aren't you amused? Who do you think will win? Or doesn't this sort of thing attract you?" She said this bitterly as though talking to herself. "Yeah, why aren't you doing something obscene?"
"Let's get out of here," he said anxiously.
"Oh, you want to get out of here. Now that you're hot, you want to go off somewhere and make your own private scene. It's purer that way, huh? Less guilt, huh? Look Tom, Dick, and whatever your name is, I'm going to do one of two things right now. I am either going up there and let that fucking freak split me in two, or I'm leaving alone.
And guess what? I've already made up my mind. I'm going."
She spoke rapidly. He couldn't have said a word. She downed a large tumbler of Scotch. As she left the room, Gustav was whirling a completely naked girl around on the end of his cock, still smiling, still holding his prize.
He waved the frail girl on his prick like a banner of surrender. She screamed hysterically, "Get it in," but only the tip of his cock pierced her tiny blond cunt. Eager for the hidden award, eager to be split in half, she clutched his stiff rod with her doll hands. He jerked his hips around, his face a contortion of frustration. She clung pathetically to his majestic pole, and her body twirled like a burlesque queen's tit.
Her grasp loosened — and she flew across the room, crumbling on the thick piled rug. A young man kicked her buttock with disdain and revealed his stiff tiny prick. He shoved it into her, and she cried aloud,
"No, no, I've had that. I'm tired of that."
Mrs. Llewellyn tittered onto the stage. She patted and soothed Gustav's swollen cock.
"Now girls, who's got lots of courage and space. We don't want the diamond to lodge in some gentlemen's ass." She covered her face and coughed delicately. "If nobody else will, I will," she threatened. "After all, it isn't right for me to win my own prize."
Gustav looked hopeful. He had traveled leisurely in Mrs.
Llewellyn's pussy many times. But a sweet husky voice interrupted, "I want to try!"
A thin-hipped brunette walked to the stage. She weighed Gustav's staff in her palm. She balanced the huge balls, soft skinned and leaden to the touch. She knelt before the giant. "From behind," she directed.
"But be careful, get it in my cunt."
He lunged against her. Her red mouth was pouting open, but she remained silent. He pushed deeper. She shouted, "Wait," and rested her head on her arms. But Gustav was too near, and he pounded senselessly into her. Finally she screamed at every thrust, but stayed rigid on her knees.
The great voice thundered in the room — and Gustav shot his river into the stunned, bleeding girl.
She fell inert on her side and lay panting. Mrs. Llewellyn was having a good time. Her party game was a success. She waddled over to the panting girl.
"Darling, show me your surprise."
The girl whimpered and stuck her fingers in her cunt. A huge glittering diamond in a sea of milling sperm and blood rested in her palm.
She moaned, "Oh, how lovely," and pressed the bloody award to her breasts.
Carol careened up to the house. She was not sure this car belonged to her. The house was dark except for a light in Phillip's study and the night lights in the halls. She ran from the car into the house. Maybe Phillip had left the party. Maybe it was Phillip in his study and not who she wanted, since Phillip had disappeared. She was breathless as she reached the door of the library. Please God, let there be someone in there, and let it be Harry. She tore her veil off, and crumpled it in her hand. For an instant she leaned up against the door. Then she quietly opened it and walked in.
Harry sat in Phillip's heavy leather armchair, reading. When he saw her come through the door, he thought she was a stranger. Could this be Carol, dead drunk and playing games? It was hard to believe. She stood in the middle of the floor, her breasts forward and her hands on her shoulders as though she was stretching.
"There's the hermit," she teased. "Any particular reason you didn't come to your long-admired friend's going away party?"
She lit a cigarette and dropped the match on the carpet. Harry proceeded to read, ignoring her entirely.
A thousand sparks were erupting inside of her. She wanted to throw herself at him and tell him of her love, beg him to take her away, to make some decision — as long as it included her, she didn't care what.
His passivity was overpowering, however. Even in her drunken stupor, she could keep herself from being aggressive with him at least for the moment. She crossed over to the side board and poured herself a glass of scotch.
"Do you think you should have that drink?"
"What makes you think I think, honey?"
She twirled about in the middle of the room, paused, and swallowed her drink. "Would you get me another drink like a gentleman, like the gentleman I met at the ball — who didn't even have his clothes off?"
"Go to bed, Carol." Harry didn't raise his eyes from his book.
"Please pour me a drink, Harry." Carol bent slowly to the floor and rolled her empty glass toward him, like a little girl playing a game. She whimpered, "If you pick it up, it means you love me."
The glass stopped directly at his feet. Carol laughed. Harry looked at the glass at his feet for a split second, then kicked it across the room.
It smashed against the wall. He went over to Carol. Her drunken laugh was now a startled scowl. He stood directly in front of her.
"Don't say it, Harry. I know you think I'm a drunken fool, playing games. Completely out of character, isn't it?" She circled his neck with her arms.
"Isn't it shocking," she continued. "What would Phillip think about dear Carol slobbering over cool, cool Harry?"
Harry was a robot next to Carol's caresses. "I think you're afraid of me," she went on. "I think you're terrified that you might feel something. Phillip's wrong, you're not even an animal."
Harry slapped her across the face. It was like the gun going off at the races. She started to sob hysterically. He picked her up roughly and carried her to her bedroom, threw her on the bed like a rubber ball, and started to walk out of the room. She called after him in an unreal voice.
"Mrs. Llewellyn keeps her jewels in her swimming pool!"
Harry stopped cold in his tracks. "What?"
Carol had sobered up slightly. Her sobbing changed into a rasp. She shouted, "In her little swimming pool."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's true. She told me tonight at the party. It just slipped out." Half laughing and half crying, she was beside herself. "She hides her jewels in her little black swimming pool."
Harry took hold of her arm hard. "You cunt, what's your story? All this mystery for what? Keep it for Phillip. He's the one who likes to believe he is the wolf fucking Goldilocks. What an egomaniac to think his cock is the only substitute in the world for a little girl's doll. And you're a very little girl, Carol."
Harry let her arm go loose. Carol was wooden, staring blankly at him as he spoke.
"You don't really have any pride, do you? After all that efficiency has melted away, there isn't even pride."
This time Carol spoke as though she had just come out of shock, with a curious softness. "All I can say, Harry, is that if I can say I love you, if this means I haven't any pride, then I haven't. But you can't admit you love. This affair was an accident, a miracle, whatever affairs between people are. No matter how strange they become, one still finds love in them.
"I know you are going to leave. And alone. You're like a priest Harry. Your parish might be anywhere, and your flock will always be made out of the same stuff." Carol turned her head away from him and closed her eyes, trying to keep her pain from showing. She was quiet now.