The other news was about Houdini's fabulous trick immersion under water in the pool of the Hotel Sheraton, New York. Houdini, a world hero for many years with his escapes and feats of magic and daring, had done it again. A young Egyptian, Rahman Bey, had challenged Houdini to match his immersion in a bronze coffin in water for an hour. The Egyptian claimed he could live in his casket for an hour, using only the air in that enclosed space because he could induce a trance.
Houdini said it could be done without a trance. Accordingly Houdini had himself immersed underwater in a metal box, soldered shut, and remained under for an hour and a half, a half hour longer than the Egyptian "miracle man". There was no trance or trick involved; Houdini had merely taught himself to breathe shallowly and remain at complete rest. His superb physical conditioning did the rest.
Phil applauded that. Phil's father had been a friend of Houdini's, working in the famous Society of Magicians, when he was alive. Phil would have to write Harry, or "Ehrich" as his wife and close friends called him, and offer congratulations in the name of the Griffin family. Phil had met the great sorcerer and escapist several times in his early years when his father had still been alive.
The door opened and Texas Bunny Long came into the room. With her came a burst of tinny music from George's hand-wound Victrola as his swimmers swam lackadaisically as George monitored the machine to make sure it didn't run down.
Phil had been introduced to the singer, Vic's mistress, before the first show, but now he got a good look at her close up. What he saw was pretty interesting.
She was the opposite of girls like Flair and Maddy, with their firm muscles and athlete's spirits. Her body was soft and the meat seemed a little loose on her bones which Phil thought sexy.
Her breasts were not as large as Flair's but because Texas was slender, they hung like ripe fruit from her chest. At present he could see the imprint of big nipples in the tight jersey gown she wore, a beige number that clung to everything. And how they jiggled when she walked. Her torso was as flat as any girl athlete's. The dress showed the attractive indentation of her belly button.
The round sweep of her hips was fantastic, almost a circle. That was because she had a fabulous ass, slightly longer than most women's. When she turned her back, there were these two sweet mounds with a magnificent crack, longer and deeper than you usually saw. In that tight dress the depression between her buttocks looked like it would make a dream nest for one long, hard cock, say seven inches when stiff. Phil had never had anal sex or thought much about it, but he knew that if he ever did he'd want to bugger between two gorgeous hams like those.
Her thighs and legs were softly, sexily shaped with just the right taper. The evening gown she wore was split at midthigh, tight to contain that great behind, then split to show silk hose held up by a garter. The soft muscles flexing under the silken sheen when she walked, plus that behind, those breasts and her slenderness hypnotized Phil as it must have Vic and many other males.
Her face was great. Her platinum hair was thick, whereas most lightly complexioned platinums had thin hair. Her eyes were big and a startling brown. Her lips were rose petal lush, her cheeks highboned like a fashion model's. Yes, Vic had quite a package there.
What intrigued Phil even more was her manner of talking. She spoke in the soft, vulnerable voice of a scared little girl asking for her momma, instead of the brassy tones you'd expect of a singer. When she sang her ballads, every man in the audience wanted to rise up and protect her from the sorrows that made her quiver.
Her costume was bizarre because above the clinging night club gown she wore a white ten gallon Texas sombrero and on her feet were dainty-heeled, authentic cowboy boots. Being from the West, Phil knew they were the real thing.
"Oh, excuse me," she murmured in that scared voice. "I came for my medicine. I have to go on in about twenty minutes. My throat is dry tonight."
Phil beckoned her to the desk and stood aside.
"Did I sound all right in the first show?" she asked, coming up to the desk.
"Fine," he lied.
"I was lousy," she contradicted him. "That's why I need my medicine. Oh, no. Sit on the desk, please. I can find it easier."
Surprised, Phil sat on the desk facing her and politely lifted his legs as she opened one of George's desk drawers.
"Not there," she said, fumbling in the drawer. She took his left leg and rested it on the drawer. She opened a drawer on the other side and rummaged inside. "Not there." She put his right foot on the opened drawer.
What the heck?
"Oh, here it is," she said in her near whisper. She put her hands on Phil's crotch and began to unbutton his fly.
Phil sat there petrified. He could not believe what was happening. The girl's movements were so slow and deliberate, so sane, that the mind rejected what she was really doing. What she really did was gently lift out the coil of his cock and balls and stroke his shaft as if it were a lovable kitten.
"You see," she explained, "there isn't much time until I have to sing, so I'm being bold in getting right to my medicine."
Was she drunk? Crazy?
"Where… where is you medicine, Texas?"
"Right inside your plumbing, Mr. Griffin, Phil. Don't worry. I know how to find it."
With little girl diffidence she began to masturbate his blade in soft, satiny hands. Phil felt luscious streaks of desire as his cock grew. That rinsing that Flair had given him several hours ago had by no means depleted his sexuality. In fact, that first throw had only stimulated him to want to blast off a second time, but Flair had turned unfriendly.
Two emotions tore him, surprise and delight. Outside he could hear faintly the applause of the crowd, some of the thin music. It was certainly safe enough here; George had to busy himself on and around the tank during the show.
"You want… my jism?" he managed, wallowing in this new, hot pleasure.
"It coats my throat, soothes my voice box," she said. "Then I sing marvelously well. Yes, sperm does it."
"Ahhhhh." His big prick strained up now as if eager to leap off his body and hunt for sex on its own. Those capable hands really could stroke!
"Would it embarrass you if I…" Pleading brown eyes looked up at him.
"I… uh… don't think so. Not at all!" he gasped, his breath almost choking him in rising excitement.
A pink tongue flicked out and circled the head of his cock, painting it with warm honey saliva.
"I'll try not to be gross," she whispered, "but I really have to have your sperm and pretty fast."
"Yes!" he hissed in ecstasy as she engulfed the whole top of his prong in her mouth. Thrills and rushes of delight shot through his belly and loins. He fucked up a little into that soft, tight mouth. Her suction was strong, exquisite. Wet flesh pressed insistently, excitingly on his cock head as she bobbed her own head and grooved his flaming spear top against the roof of her mouth. Teasing fingers stroked his shaft, gently caressed his balls.
"Ho, ho, ho!" he sang, heart pounding wildly. In less than a minute she'd set his whole belly on fire.
She released his cock and they both watched its happy dry throbs, as it gleamed in the satin of her saliva. Phil felt the slight sting of the digestive power.
"Well, I won't go too fast," she laughed. "If you don't mind a little tease, I find that it increases the sperm volume."
"Tease is all right!" he cried. God, he could feel the sweet joy from his toes to his head. What a cock handler this shy, strange show business girl was.
"If I can hold back the ejaculation long enough," she explained as if she were a teacher in a classroom, "the force greatly aids in coating my throat. Don't be surprised if I take you quite deep at first and then draw gradually back to apply an even spread of your precious male juices."