Venus Envy, page 19
She laughed because he knew her well. “Make some calls yourself. Don’t wait to do it as a group. I bet you some of those other guys are calling. Pickens Oliguy.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“That young flash would—Larry Taylor. Probably burned up the phone wires between here and New Mexico.”
“I’ll call the guys and tell them what I’m doing first.”
“I knew you’d say that. Just do it. It’s easier to apologize than to ask for permission. Why ask? It was your idea!”
“They’re my friends.”
“So are Pete and Lionel and Fred. Frank, get tough.”
“I’ll think about it. About the calls to the West, I mean. You might be right.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That it?”
“That’s it except that the dirt about Frazier is all over town. When it reaches my hairdresser, who is the Ancient of Days, you know the gossip has made a complete cycle. Want me to tear off anyone’s face?”
“What’s wrong with people?” Frank shook his head.
“Petty envy. Frazier is beautiful, bright—always was the brightest little thing—and successful. Finally, she’s proved to be human. They all need to crow a little bit. Makes them feel bigger, or if not bigger, at least not such failures.”
Frank had not brought up the subject to Mildred. They were so close that about many things he rarely needed to speak. Mildred just knew. But he felt compelled to say something now: “Mildred, I’m a man. Men look at these things differently. Now if this were Carter I’d be furious—my son, for God’s sake. But I don’t mind so much with Frazier.”
Mildred smiled broadly. “Sure, no other man will have her. You’ll always be number one.”
“You think that?” Frank was incredulous.
“Got any other woman in your life that makes you feel good?” Mildred hit the bull’s-eye.
“You.”
“Ha!” Mildred spun around and slapped him in the stomach.
“You do.”
“You know what I mean. Who fills your heart? Your daughter. Always did.”
This disturbed Frank. Could he be so selfish that he was happy his beloved daughter was a lesbian? “I never thought of it that way.”
“You don’t think about a lot of things and that’s why I’m sitting here pulling the hair out of my head over these damn bills. It’s a good thing to keep your nose to the grindstone but every now and then, Frank, take a look around—and a look inside.”
“The only thing that bothers me about Frazier’s choice”—he emphasized choice—“is that she’ll never have children.”
“Nor legal protection. I read in the papers about these galimony suits. That could happen to her. She won’t get a break on her income tax or her insurance. Seems to me she made an expensive choice. And what if she lives with someone who won’t work? A lot of women won’t work in Frazier’s social circle. Frazier’s going to pay the bills. I mean she’s got the worst of both worlds, if you ask me.”
“Well, I did ask you.”
“And she’s so beautiful she’ll be besieged by these gold diggers, you mark my words.”
“Isn’t that funny. I fear just the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” Mildred’s eyes widened, for she couldn’t imagine a scenario different from her own.
“I’m afraid she’s going to spend her life alone. She’s a good girl. I want someone to take care of her when I’m not here.”
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.” Mildred slammed her hand on the table. “No talk about not being here. Anyway, Frank, she’s supported herself since college.”
“I know, but I’m her father. I want her to be loved. I want her to be protected. I want to know I can entrust her to someone special. I don’t know if another woman can do that.”
“Apparently not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They don’t make as much money as men. How can they take care of one another? And men have their little groups, their cronies. They pass business around to one another. Women don’t. I mean, how can they? So Frazier’s going to carry the ball and that gets wearisome, especially if she winds up with some damned bitch who wants to live at Tiffany’s!”
“Mildred, I didn’t expect you to be so vehement.”
“I love her, too, you know.”
40
I’M NO LONGER THE GOOD GAY GIRL SCOUT.” FRAZIER FINISHED relating her story to Mandy and Kenny Singer.
“Sucks,” Kenny responded.
Mandy paused before a perfectly shaped black urn from ancient Greece. The Virginia Museum in Richmond owned a good basic collection of art and artifacts, which was continually replenished by revolving shows.
Frazier paused to study it also. “Roberta Saunders has one of the most marvelous collections of both Attic black figure and red figure vases in this country or any other.”
Kenny asked, “Is she as sexy as everyone says?”
“Are you asking me as a woman or are you asking me as a man?” Frazier put her hand on her hip.
“For you, as a lady,” Kenny replied.
“Smoky, smoky sex. Drives men wild. All she has to do is walk into a room.”
“Works for you too,” Mandy complimented Frazier.
“Thanks, but I’m icy-looking. It’s a different hit, I think.” Frazier moved down the corridor. “Mandy, you’re pretty much a hit yourself.”
“Right.” Kenny picked up the theme. “Broad shoulders, narrow waist, uh, ample bosoms, great features, and white, white teeth.”
“All black folks have white teeth.” Mandy laughed. She changed the subject. “Now, Frazier, I didn’t study as much art history as you did. Why do so many of the men on those vases or urns or amphorae—I never do get it right—have erections?”
“Because they’re happy.”
Kenny’s rich tenor purred, “From the looks of it there must have been a lot of happy men in Athens way back in B.C. Too bad no one has figured out how to do time tours.”
“What—Courtney isn’t making you happy?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet and I’m out of practice. I’ll probably forget myself and tell the poor girl to bend over.” Mandy and Frazier howled at that. Kenny continued, “Then again, she won’t know until she tries and I’ll certainly attempt more conventional methods.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. The late, unlamented Sean, my ex—I mean he’s not dead, just in my heart—well, he was button-down, tortoise-rimmed glasses, straight through. A real three-speed guy.”
“Is this the one you described as resembling a Ken doll with anatomically correct parts?” Kenny wondered.
“No, that was Frazier describing Taylor Anderson.”
“That wasn’t Taylor Anderson. He may not have been greatly endowed by Nature but he was okay. That was Sam Krueger and that was a long time ago. My, how you remember.”
“I love girl talk—girls.” Kenny smiled. “Something tells me if there were time travel we would have thoroughly disported ourselves in ancient Athens.”
“You would. Women bore the usual sexist burdens, as well as the children.”
“How sad.” Kenny meant it. Now that he had reconceived of himself as bisexual he was in favor of sex for everyone with everyone in every available combination. It was an endearing philosophy.
“You know, Frazier’s fixated on that painting of Mount Olympus, which, while painted much later—like the seventeenth century later—carries the flavor of the vases, you might say. Anyway, she’s convinced the painting is alive, sort of, and I say she’s under a lot of stress so this is … a kind of relief.”
“Mandy, dammit, Kenny doesn’t care about the Mount Olympus painting. And I never said it was alive. I just think there are some things about it that are peculiar.”
“Such as?” Kenny asked, his dark, glossy eyebrows curving upward.
“Oh, nothing really.”
“In the middle of a bright day we heard thunder. Jupiter’s laughter.” Mandy supplied an answer.
“I didn’t say that exactly. But there wasn’t a cloud. I called the power company to find out if a transformer blew—”
“Got obsessed and then she called the police to find out if a bomb had gone off.”
“Mandy, come on, I was curious. It was so unusual. Anyway, I’d rather have the thunder be Jupiter’s laughter than a bomb. Everything’s so upside down right now, someone better be laughing. I’d hate for this muffled misery to be for nothing.”
“Yeah, everyone is overpoweringly polite. What was it that Tennessee Williams said? ‘A faggot is a homosexual gentleman who has just left the room.’ Applies to women, too, I guess.”
“It’s like an undertow. I can’t always see it but I can feel it.” Frazier slowed her pace. “I’d feel better if they came out of the closet, the people who sit in silent judgment.”
“I hardly think your mother sits in silent judgment.” Mandy snapped her fingers together.
“Mother is in a class by herself. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I received the first detective’s report.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“What report?” Kenny smelled gossip and he was never one to pass up a delicious story.
“Mandy told me to put a detective on Laura.”
“Our Lady of Perfection?” Kenny was amazed.
“She’s not so perfect.” Mandy defended her instincts. “She hates her husband and she hates Frazier too.”
“Oooee.” Kenny sucked in his breath. “Blunt but true. You think she’s rolling in the hay with someone other than Carter, the original forty-balled tomcat?”
“No.” Frazier shook her head. “She visits different doctors. Apart from her various activities—aerobics, tennis lessons, bridge, the Garden Club—just the usual.”
“Maybe she sleeps with the doctors.” Kenny, a Southern gentleman, glided down the stairs before the ladies and walked in front of them, the reasoning being that if a lady should lose her footing the gentleman would be there to catch her. The reverse applied on climbing the stairs.
“I thought of that.” Frazier glared at Mandy. “You have just perverted my mind, Eisenhart. Anyway, she wasn’t in the offices long enough for that unless these guys are adept at speed-fucking.”
“Most doctors are,” Kenny drawled.
“Is this spoken from personal experience?” Mandy’s hand slid along the highly polished railing.
“It is.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“And why not?” He turned his head to look back at Frazier.
“You guys can dart in and out of one another’s, uh, nether regions faster than I can put on panty hose.”
“And you’re telling me a doctor can’t fast-forward into someone’s vagina?”
“Of course he can,” Mandy said, “but the lady of his momentary lust probably won’t get much out of it.”
“What if he arrives at the other orifice?” Kenny twirled his hand upward.
“My point stands.” Mandy sounded triumphant.
“Oh, dear. Does this mean that when I finally do achieve the desired intimacy with Courtney Wood that she isn’t going to enjoy oral sex?”
“How do you even know she’ll do it?” Frazier drew alongside Mandy as they stepped down the last step.
“You’re kidding?” Kenny was shocked.
“No. Some women won’t.” Mandy backed up Frazier.
“Not you two.” Kenny’s eyes twinkled.
“Depends on the man.” Mandy volunteered a bit of her sexual history. “If he’s not hot, never. If I like him, okay.”
“But do you like it?” Kenny adored sex talk.
“It’s not my fave” came the dry reply.
Now both sets of eyes fell upon Frazier.
“Hey, I’m the lesbian, remember?”
“Oh, bullshit, Mary,” Kenny shot back using the gay term “Mary.” “Didn’t I just hear you discussing the members of some fortunate gentlemen, fortunate enough to have enjoyed your favors.”
“You are courtly, Kenny. Why are you both looking at me? Do I like giving blow jobs? Is that the question?”
“It most certainly is.” Kenny nodded.
“Loved it. Loved every minute of it.”
Mandy’s eyes grew larger. She was surprised at this because since she didn’t like it, she couldn’t imagine Frazier, who was supposed to be gay, liking it at all. “Now wait a minute. Just wait a minute. I’m straight and I don’t like it. You’re gay and you do?”
“How straight are you, sugar?” Kenny, had he been a cat, would have curled his tail around himself at that very moment.
Now both sets of eyes were on Mandy. “You two are demented.”
“I hope so.” Kenny grinned.
“Let me put it this way …” Mandy began.
“Brace yourself, Kenny. I think we’re in for a bout of diplomacy.”
Mandy laughed. “Hey, you’re my boss, remember.”
“I remember only too well. So tell … the truth. Even if you think it will offend me.”
“I have never been to bed with a member of my own sex, but once when I was seventeen I did kiss Meredith Burns in the boathouse at the University of Pennsylvania.
“You had to go all the way to Philadelphia to kiss a girl?” Frazier couldn’t help but prolong Mandy’s agony.
“We were visiting colleges together.” She stopped. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because we asked and because it’s fascinating and because apart from money, sex is the most wonderful, the most engaging, the most memorable subject on all the earth.” Kenny sighed.
“Been a long time, honey?” Frazier slipped her arm through his and Mandy did likewise on his right side.
“I consider two months an eternity. Billy and I usually had sex four or five times a week and not always alone.”
“Kinky.” Mandy noticed an Isidore Bonheur sculpture and thought of his sister Rosa, a painter of restrained passion, a passion focused more on animals than people.
“Very. I have had all my orifices stuffed simultaneously and been stuffing someone else’s, often unknown to me—the person, not the orifice. Billy’s lust exceeds even my own, but what I really want is to be close to someone. After a time, sex with him became gymnastics—or traffic control. I just wanted to be held, corny as that may sound.”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” Frazier admitted. “Oh, Mandy, you didn’t tell us if you enjoyed kissing Meredith Whoever.”
“If I tell, will Kenny tell about his perversions?”
“Deal.”
“Meredith Burns was one good kisser.”
“But you didn’t go further?” Kenny pressed.
“No. I didn’t think about it. Girls can do those sorts of things. Kissing, I mean, and it’s not a big deal. But if you’re asking if I am capable of making love to a woman—sure. Will I? How the hell do I know? I’m like a trapeze artist. I swing from boyfriend to boyfriend. Maybe if I sat down and thought about what I was doing I’d think about that too.”
“Serial monogamy.” Frazier’s voice sounded grave.
“It’s not a disease.”
“I know. It’s just what I observe. I wasn’t making a judgment. If anything, Mandy, I give you credit. You’re out there trying. On the other hand, you can sit home and conceive of the perfect relationship. You can reconstitute yourself, too, you know. Attack your own neurosis. Imagine how the next relationship will be. While you’re sitting home creating this perfection the world goes on. And when you emerge from the cocoon to actually find someone, they aren’t perfect and neither are you. At least, if you’re out there having relationships and trying and loving and crying and whatever, you’re learning, which is a lot more than I ever did. I would have a furtive relationship here and there with someone usually as repressed as myself. Close personal friends, you bet—the byword for a lesbian couple, only I never even coupled. Fucked, yes; coupled, no. I qualify as a major coward.”
“You don’t know, sister, you don’t know,” Mandy said, and Kenny nodded in agreement. “And now, Mr. Singer, a perversion. Like what is the wildest thing you ever did?”
He sat on a bench in the middle of the room. The two women sat on either side of him, and as the room was empty, he spoke in a normal tone of voice. “Last year for my thirtieth birthday Billy flew me to Florida and we embarked on a Caribbean cruise on this stunning big cruiser, long as a city block. Two other couples joined us, all gay men, and the crew were all gay, too, or bisexual. I mean, when you’re fucking someone you don’t care a bit if he’s fucking women too. I never did, anyway. On the actual day of my birth we sat down to a white-tie dinner, and dessert was served in this fashion: the crew member with the biggest cock was carried in on a platter they had made, covered in grapes and fruits. We nibbled the fruits. Then we nibbled him. Then we carefully removed our clothes, as did the crew, except that they were ordered to keep on their white caps and navy blazers with the brass buttons. Oh, the sight of those big pecs, a trickle of sweat lazing between them! Billy stroked those crew members’ members who were not white. He delicately poured lines of cocaine on these erect penii which the white members of the party and crew sniffed. Then the black crew members and guests—one couple was mixed—placed us on our stomachs while they formed lines of cocaine on our buttocks which they then sniffed. We applied more of this controlled substance to various anuses and entered at will. In order to sustain our erections we dabbed the powder on the heads of our own cocks, which does delay ejaculation, and we combined and recombined in every number and position imaginable. I couldn’t sit down the next day. One of the rules of the birthday party was that you must both pitch and catch. I’m not much of a catcher and believe me, I was glad for the cocaine on my poor little poop chute. Damn, did I hurt the next day. But I will never, ever forget my thirtieth birthday … and don’t worry, we practiced safe sex. I don’t want to die as a result of turning thirty.”
“Is this what Courtney Wood has to look forward to—snorting cocaine off your part?” Frazier asked while Mandy pulled up her jaw, which had dropped.
“Doesn’t look as good on a white cock.”
