Throb, spurt, throb, spurt. On and on the orgasms went until they were dizzy with relief and joy and half-conscious with erotic satiation.
"Ohhhhhhh."
"Ahhhhhhh."
They finally expired and dozed happily in each other's arms, glowing from the peak sex run of their lives.
Alone in his room, George nursed his flask and faced the fact that his bride wasn't coming tonight. He had a pretty good idea of where she was and where Maddy was too. As for him, he was nowhere. He looked down at his flask, no longer necessary in these post-prohibition times.
"I should line you with rubber and turn you into a cunt," he told the flask. "At least you never desert me!"
CHAPTER TEN
By 1939 Billy Rose and the New York World's Fair were ready for each other. America's greatest city wanted a fabulous exposition. Rose wanted to nail down, once and for all, his reputation as a great showman. His 1935 Jumbo, his 1936 Ft. Worth Centennial Casa Manana, and his 1937 Cleveland Aquacade had lifted his star to the heights. Now he wished to put it in permanent orbit.
Yet he was not chosen at first to have a part in the New York Fair. When he learned there was to be a 10,000 seat amphitheatre to be filled with some sort of show, he knew the logical answer was a new aquacade, better than Cleveland's. But first he had to win the job of Director of Entertainment from Grover Whelan, the Fair's decision-maker. He hustled in his unique way – put on a Broadway show called Let's Play Fair which not only advertised the show but flattered Whelan with taste and class. It was a show that cost him well over $200,000 and it was put on for just one man, Grover Whelan.
Whelan came, saw the show and was convinced. Billy Rose got the Fair job, put on a fabulous new Aquacade and filled the amphitheatre every night. His selection was more than justified when he produced a million dollars profit from the show, both in '39 and '40. He was to go on to other triumphs but that year at the New York Aquacade, with his lovely swimming star, Eleanor Holm, he reached the pinnacle of his career, and filled his cup with more happiness when in the Fall of '39 he married Eleanor.
It was a great year and the end of an age in America, because World War II started in Europe in September.
The New York Aquacade brought together some old friends who had not been seeing much of each other. Phil Griffin came off the road to take the job as one of the swim choreographers. He knew the value of being identified with the world-famous aquacade when he returned to colleges with his water shows. His business thrived since he'd gone over Niagara Falls in a well-padded barrel and survived, such being the value of bravado stunts in his line of work.
It did cost him two months in the hospital and the attentions of Maddy Metcalf who tried to dissuade him in a night of lovemaking before the event. She saw him through his recovery and then returned to her parents in San Diego, who were ill.
Maddy never consummated her marriage with Vic Singleton, as that individual seemed disgusted with her for not showing up for a bedroom bout on their wedding night, although she pointed out to him that they'd consummated to exhaustion some ten years before. A divorce followed.
Maddy believed that Flair served Vic as a surrogate wife, and she was right. But Flair didn't last much longer than six months. It is a peculiarity of incest that while talking about it is never-ending, maintaining it is difficult. In the end the mores of society prevail, guilt enters and incest ends.
Flair joined Maddy a year later to revive the Austin Sisters and eventually they came to the New York Aquacade as singing swimmers or swimming singers as in Cleveland.
George left Niagara Falls and Flair, also without enjoying the fruits of marriage. "Even a worm," he claimed, "has the right to leave the same old apples in the same old rotten barrel." Just as he and Vic went through matching marriages, they separately went through matching divorces. George was convinced that '37 was not Niagara Fall's best year. Through contacts with some of Rose's staff he was able to agent some new clients into the '39 Aquacade.
Vic Singleton connected with the Aquacade after a string of odd circumstances. While he was freezing his way through the Buffalo winter after Flair and Maddy left, he received a letter in the mail which contained a deed to a small swim suit factory in Southern California. Maddy wrote that her father had died, leaving a business that neither she nor her mother wished to manage. If Vic would be kind enough to send $200,000 the factory was his.
Three things appealed to Vic about the deal. First, it was warm in Southern California, second he was tired of selling non-tangibles. The booze he used to sell you could put your hands on, so many bottles with so much liquid content inside. An endurance promotion was a phantom thing. A swim suit was something you could put your hands on. If it had a nubile girl inside you'd put your hands there soon and often. Yes, swim suit manufacture assured contact with lots of females, mostly undressed. He sent the money.
There was a little bit more to it than that. He'd heard whispers, first through his science reporter at the station and later in the garment trade that the DuPonts had come up with a new cloth called "nylon", a synthetic fabric they were just putting into toothbrushes, but would soon feature in hose and other articles of clothing. Why not swim suits? The cotton, wool and rubber affairs of the day were heavy, ungainly and stayed water-logged. And so Singleton Swim Suits were born and Vic was able to get some of his new items used by the Aquacade swimmers, which brought him to New York that summer.
Texas Bunny Long showed up in her old single singing role, but with a tight-fitting cowgirl costume of a short skirt, silken legs, cowboy boots and the inevitable ten gallon hat. This time she sang authentic hillbilly songs which were well-received by Fair visitors from the West. There was nothing like being in a big, sinful city like New York and hearing the plaintive prairie wail one knows so well at home.
With the greatest of efforts the old Atlantic City "friends" managed to avoid each other throughout the run of the Aquacade. Vic would hurry in and out with his new swimsuits. George would huddle with his new talent, avoiding Flair, Maddy and Phil. Flair, Maddy, Texas and Phil had to be around a lot for show changes and pick-up rehearsals but in a mob of a couple of hundred swimmers, plus dancers, singers, specialty acts and musicians it wasn't hard to do.
After the Aquacade closed, Phil gave himself some time off. He went down to Atlantic City to do a little swimming and sunning before his first water show assignment which began in the Southern sun states in October. Atlantic City looked pretty seedy these days. He felt sad as he wandered the Boardwalk and the Steel Pier and found the old building where George had had his aquarium girl show, complete with a tankful of Vic's gin. The building was empty, desolate, boarded up. Even the signs were gone.
Gone too was the fabulous Houdini who'd done so much for them. Gone these thirteen years because a couple of months after he'd come to help them he'd died in New York on Halloween. His last great show had never fulfilled itself. He was injured in Canada on that tour when a man struck his stomach with his fist at Houdini's invitation. Houdini did not have time to tense those rugged stomach muscles, and his appendix was ruptured. Death followed shortly.
Did Houdini's ghost wander these streets, and the other places of the world where he'd put on his great escapes, Phil wondered. The old order had passed. The new world war would surely bury an age.