Moving with the agility of a pack-rat, Ambrose dove his head under David's belly and thighs, slipping the tremulous moist member back into his oven-like mouth just as David let out a terrible wail and emptied his torn wet passions into the slobbering draining fat-Ambrose… ahhhhh!.. the heat… and the lapping…
… After this, nothing will seem low, he thought, listening to their appreciative moans and sighs. And by God, I've won! This had to be the worst of it, and they like me… I drove them wild… and it was me who unleashed all the power to do this-not the Company or the Corporation, but me alone, without having to kowtow or butter-up-to-the-boss… and using nothing but the members I was born with. God, what a supremely natural victory! He was flying solo at last, and he fit in. And when the trio gave him a twenty-five dollar tip before they departed, David realized he'd earned a hundred dollars for just a single hour's work; and he had earned this money without giving his mind or his heart. So he was free.
… Who among us can say that, he wondered later, as he romped and splashed in his shower…
In the living-room Valerie collected her fees from the assortment of bi-guys, gay-guys and bi-gals she'd invited, all of whom were led to believe that David was sharing equally in these profits.
"Absolutely fantastic performance for a neophyte!" said one of the connoisseur gay-guys.
"Typical behavior of an industrial-slave once you let him out of his cage," explained Valerie, lispy and excited as she counted the bills. "You see, until now this poor boy's been nothing but a mere cog in the wheels of the Establishment…"
"Ahh, but now he'll become an establishment unto himself!" said another patron. Everyone nodded and agreed. Valerie counted. And later took a third of David's take as well. When she told him that he must also split his tip with her, David immediately asked how she'd known about it.
"Why… they told me about it just as they left," she improvised hurriedly. "They wanted me to know how delighted they were with you, and… said you w-~ v. ell worth that extra twenty-five dollars."
He grinned a little bashfully. "Then you're proud of me, huh, Val? I passed my entrance-exams with flying colors, didn't I?"
"Oh honey, you were fabulous!" she said, flinging herself into his arms for a kiss. "In fact, you are now the Stud-King of San Francisco!"
"Gee!" he said, holding her and basking in his success. "Then they must have told you an awful lot about it, I mean… about what we did…"
"Oh well, listen, darling… they were so pleased they wanted to shout it from the rooftops!" They were in the living-room now having cocktails, Valerie's draperies safely hiding her tattle-tale two-way mirror. "Are you too tired to show me some of your leftovers, David?"
"Oooh never, baby!.. where you're concerned it's Gung-Ho all the way!"
Valerie was curious to see how much she could squeeze out of him after such a bout. As it turned out, she needn't have worried. Longevity like David's was money in the bank.
And as David drove home to Hillsborough that night, happily humming and spent, he actually, looked forward to the soporific monotony of watching TV and reclining on the divan. Maybe for once he'd be able to watch The Flying Nun without wondering how it would feel to lick up her habit…
And golly, just think of it, soon he'd be able to support his family without any help from those stinkin' Montclairs! His own man at last: self-sufficient suburban husband and father of three-with one unbeknownst addition on the way…
NINETEEN
During the next month David Fortune earned a staggering sum of money by simply knuckling down and applying himself. However, his cash profits couldn't begin to top those of his glamorous lady pimp. Valerie Hudson sent out discreet invitations announcing his daily exhibitions in her apartment, appealing to the old and the young, the gay and the straight, the lame and the halt. How avidly they soaked up this vicarious delight, and what a thrilling matinee to see this succulent Ivy-League Christian being tossed so repeatedly to the lions of lust. To add to their regalement, the boy seemed genuinely eager for these ravishments of fang and brawn.
For many weeks David found these arduous new demands on his time and hormones a very flattering phenomena. He'd never realized that vanity could have such an intoxicating influence on him. And yet, it became as habit-forming as a drug when Valerie told him of the waiting-lists building up for him and the need to have more phones installed in her office simply because he was such a smash. She also assured him he was still the only call-boy in her stable who operated on a full-time basis. Man, what a status-symbol!
In addition to slipping potent THC-doses in his cocktails, Valerie also introduced the boy to sniffing poppers just before-and sometimes even during-a date. This turned him into an eruptive frenzy of desire… "Damn!.. It makes me want to eat everybody in sight, even before they get their clothes off!"
"I'm hip!" she replied, remembering the wild audience-reaction in her living-room whenever he was on the stuff.
But despite all these mounting excitements, David still remained infatuated with Valerie and bitterly regretted there was so little time for them to be alone together. It was also frustrating that whenever they did have a stray moment or two, she'd insist that he save all his primary energies for his clients; although she added that she still loved him madly and thought only of him when coupling with her own customers at night.
As the holidays approached David felt this would be a great time for them to take off a few days and see no one but each other.
"Oh David, you must be kidding! This is our busiest time of the year… everybody wants to make out in December…"
"Oh hell, and I thought Christmas was for families and kids and relatives, and all that."
"Honey, if you're alone in a big city, Christmas is for sex, sex and more sex, until all the tinsel's torn down and you're no longer reminded that you don't have a lover or a wife or a sweetheart at a time when it counts the most!"
David was disappointed. He had taken it for granted that business would slow down during the holidays and that he would thus get a slight respite from his chores. Not that he loved his work any less, but now and then a bit of fatigue did seem to becloud the issues. As the new year dawned, he began to look thin and drawn. Valerie bought him an expensive sun-lamp and insisted that he use it daily. She rubbed scented lotions all over his body, and soon he looked a great deal healthier than he felt. When Linda noticed his bronzed complexion reflected from the lights of their Christmas-tree, she cheerily asked him where he got his nice barber-shop tan. He said: "In the barbershop." And for some strange reason she blushed and said, "Of course… How silly of me. Where else?"