Bring him
He’s
Divine
The crystal clear night. Stars out. Speaking. Deep in their black blue beyond. Smell of burning rubber. Wind pouring in the window. Limbs poking in all directions. A voice groaning in rapture. Another screaming in fucking discomfort. Someone said there’s Bull Island. Lips kissing my throat. Unable to move to see who it is. And whoever it was, has now let go of my balls. And is pulling my prick. Just as we all crush backwards motoring up a steep hill. Thought I saw the masts of boats. And I do. Down there in the harbour.
Darcy Dancer retwisting his arms and legs back into shape as the bodies separate. Up here in the salty air the line of motor cars unload. A rocky hill covered in heather and gorse. Stand in front of this rhododendron shrouded big house perched up over the sea. Try to adjust one’s dress. Finally saw the hand coming out of my flies. Belonging to a chap called Cecil. Who winked at me. Step down through the oily leaved shrubbery. With this arriving crowd. Towards this massive door opening. And this stark naked man whom last I saw on a pavement flattened in a puddle of stout. And now erect once more bowing in the guests.
‘Come in my dear darlings. Binky greets you. Come in. Quickly before I’m frozen.’
A long wide hall of black and white tiles. A grand staircase circling upwards at the far end. Through an ante room. One of Lois’s pudenda paintings on the wall. And further. This large drawing room. The guests gathered. Corks popping. A gramophone playing. And beyond the shuttered windows hear the ocean waves below go crash, go booming. The Black Widow woman. Comes with her thin wristed arm aloft to take me waltzing out across the floor. Kissing my neck. And three gentlemen on the side lines growl.
‘Don’t mind them dear boy. They’re jealous fliers from the Royal Air Force. You are what I have been waiting for this whole entire evening, you absolurely gorgeous darling. So young, so young, so young. But that is not an invitation for you to say that I am so old so old.’
‘I was not about to say that.’
Darcy Dancer swirling on the parquet. Right past Lois in a mattress thick green sweater and skirt. Dancing with Binky. Whose skinny shanks and long spare body made one think of an undressed butler. Lois’s head resting with her eyes closed on his shoulder. As one ventures to ask this Black Widow.
‘Who is that person Binky. He looks like an undressed butler.’
‘But my dear, that’s what he is, my butler.’
‘Does he always go without his clothes.’
‘Only after ten p.m.’
Sound of more arriving guests. Arms stacked with parcels of bottles. And a roar of Leo the painter at the drawing room door.
‘Begorra Sodom and Gomorrah.’
And the Black Widow swirling Darcy Dancer in a wild spinning circle. The lights go whizzing past one’s eyes. The faces loom. And this largest of the three Royal Air Force gentlemen tapping me on the shoulder.
‘My turn to dance my dear fellow.’
Lady Black Widow facing him. Blocking him away. Raising her splendid profile.
‘Ah all you lovely men. And you, my dearest Wing Commander or is it Group Captain. Who fought and won the war. I do like you. I do so really absolurely like you. But you see. This gorgeous creature here. I love him.’
Snorts and harumphs erupting from this large broad shouldered chap. The Black Widow swirling me away. Round one last time and then out over the threshold. Away from the smouldering anger. And the getting of each other’s goat. Into the hall. Where a bottle was smashing down on the back of the head of the Royal Rat. Who pitched forward on his face. Roars and shouts raging. And a figure. My god. The gunman. Unleashing a fist. Socking the man with the bottle in his hand. Sending him flying footless back the length of the hall. Over a table. A white pottery lamp crashing to the floor. And the man crumpling into a stand of canes and umbrellas. Rashers in the centre of the mêlée announcing.
‘Bottles as weapons you cad are simply not cricket.’
Just as the front door opens. And the Count my former dancing master, surrounded by companions as he stands in a camel hair polo coat arms outstretched surveying the carnage. As one is led half way up this curving marble staircase of this big old house. To hear his voice ringing out.
‘O my dears. You have so naughtily disgraced yourselves again.’
The Black Widow tugging my arm. And one so wants to watch. As more fists are now suddenly flying. A gentleman in a rather loudly checked jacket and bright red, white and blue bow tie. My god is flattening people in their tracks. Hardly even see his fists move and hear a thwack and down they go absolutely flaked out.
‘O my dear Macgillicudy, let us get away. From the noise and the people. Come.’
‘Where are we going.’
‘Away from the battlefield. To where we may make love my dear boy. To where we may make love.’
Sound of wind groaning and whistling. Shiver along this dark hall. Led by the hand. Her skin feels cold. Her eyes look dark and then close up they were a yellowish green. Thundering crashes and more screaming below. And in the brief lull comes the music and dancing and jiggling. The Black Widow pushing closed an iron barred gate. It shuts with a heavy clank across the hall. She turns a key in the big lock.
‘You see my darling this is the party door. On that side are the noise and the people. On this side. It’s you and me. My husband who adores rough social gatherings also likes his privacy. We are as it were in our own little fortress. Protected if not from the sounds at least from the splattering gore. Should one lose this key there is no escape but a drop straight into the sea out the windows.’
Her bedroom hung with tapestry. A parrot in a cage. Large Blackamoor Figures either side of her chimney piece. We stood to kiss under a chandelier she said came from the Court of the Russian Tsars. And a shot gun leaning against the wall. Shoes all over the floor. She takes off her black dress. And silky black underthings. Flings them back over her shoulders. The shadows haunt and rise up through my bones. The sea thundering. The windows trembling. Stands with her naked bony body. Tiny slender waist. And the largest nipples I have ever seen. On her so white bosoms. That I am terrified to touch.
‘Why is that shot gun there.’
‘It is kept handy so my husband can shoot my lovers.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Take off your clothes my gorgeous darling. Don’t leave me naked like this just standing here.’
Felt for my fiver still intact in my waistcoat pocket. A light out there on the sea. Comes flashing up through the windows and across the walls. She waits there. Swaying. Or my head reels. Keel over into disaster. Get killed here tonight before I ever atone for all my past misdeeds. The first awful things one has done in life. Severed strands in the rope which held up Edna Annie’s laundry drying frame so that it would when she raised it, fall and crash the wet wash down on the old crone’s head. Felt dreadful for days. Even wept. Between laughing my head off. She used to frighten me as a little tiny boy. Grabbing my wrists and squeezing them cruelly hard when she’d find me on the servants’ stairs. Step now naked towards this Black Widow’s arms.