Part 11 (1/2)
”Oh, he can't hear me. He's pa.s.sed out in the bedroom.a ”I thought you'd been drinking.” Sylvan never sounded that swishy unless he was soused.
”I'm still coherent and that's all that matters. Now tell me more. When are you and Allison going to get a place together?”
I told him about the California deal. I said that I had urged Allison to take the job.
”Happy martyr's day! Do you know what you're doing in sending her out to Hollywood where the deer and degenerates play? You better a.s.sert squatter's rights and go with her if you don't want to have her turn into one of those ghastly Hollywood queer-nymphomaniacs,” he said.
”I haven't made up my mind yet about going.”
”What's the problem?”
”Well, partly that Allison has a tendency to try to manipulate and direct me. I don't want her to think I'll just follow her around like a puppy wherever she goes.”
”Not good enough. I don't believe that's the real reason for your not going.”
”There are a few other things that I'd rather not go into,” I said.
”I've got it,” Sylvan said. ”You're afraid that if Allison finds out that she has too much power over you she'll drop you like Marilyn did. That's it, isn't it?”
”Go get another drink. You're becoming revoltingly sober.”
”I'm right, I'm right!” he crowed.
”O.K., so you're right. Anyway, let's meet for lunch sometime this week. We'll discuss it then.”
”Love to. I'd like to see Allison again too.”
”I've got an idea. Why don't you and Mike come here for dinner Wednesday night?”
”Splendid. Just don't serve oysters, please.”
”Why? Mike too much for you?”
”Darling, I'm down to a shadow of my former self,” Sylvan said delightedly. ”I don't think I'd be able to survive if he stayed for more than a week.”
Just then I could hear a gruff voice calling Sylvan in the background. ”Be with you in a moment,” Sylvan called back.
”I'll let you go now,” I said. ”Mustn't keep your seafood waiting. It might spoil.”
”Honey, you don't know the half of it. He's terribly impatient. Does perfectly terrible things to me if I'm late. I love it,” he whispered. ”Oh, here he comes now. Don't get nasty, love, I was going to go to you in a minute. Well, Sloane, I'll... Mike, Mike, what are you doing? Mike, I'm on the phone. I'm talking to a girl! Mike, at least let me hang up. Oh-h-h, Mike!” Sylvan's voice had changed to a breathless soprano. ”Sloane, we'll see you Wednesday at seven.”
”Right. Take good care of your sailor now.”
”I have no choice. Mike, please! The blinds are up!”
CHAPTER 10.
Wednesday night Sylvan brought his friend to my apartment for dinner. Sylvan was wearing a rust coloured suede smoking jacket with pastel trousers. He had a paisley ascot around his neck. I learned something new about Sylvan. He didn't have to be drunk to become feminine. Apparently the company of another man brought out the swish in him.
Mike was a sailor. With a vengeance he was a sailor. Big and beefy with a voice that sounded like a fog bell. He was handsome in a prehistoric sort of way.
There are only two types who look good in Navy blues and Mike was one of them. Slim, slight men look kind of s.e.xy in the tight pants. Guys like Mike look good because the skinlike outfit shows off every muscle and emphasizes their masculinity.
As a conversationalist he was a good tennis player. Mike laughed a lot. At things that were funny and even at some things that weren't. He had a big deep laugh that made the muscles on his shoulders quiver.
We asked him questions about s.h.i.+pboard life to which he responded in monosyllables. Sylvan supplied the details for us. I don't know when he found out anything about Mike unless the guy became talkative in the most inappropriate moments. He sure as h.e.l.l didn't talk much when he was vertical.
Sylvan danced attendance on Mike as if the sailor were a delicate woman who couldn't do anything for herself. He brought him his drinks, even mixed them and removed the swizzle stick before giving them to Mike. Mike looked a little embarra.s.sed when Sylvan curled up on the floor at his feet and stared up at him with adoring eyes.
I felt sorry for Sylvan. He deserved better than this. Sylvan had a good mind, lots of personality and a lot to offer someone. Mike just wasn't capable of appreciating him.
I've heard the same story from many gay boys. They start out looking for beauty and love and after a while they become so bitter that the only thing they're interested in is s.e.x. It's the loneliest state imaginable. There are thousands of queens all over the world who have given up all hope of companions.h.i.+p. The only thing they're interested in is the physical attractiveness of their lovers.
Mike was agreeable enough though hardly stimulating. We had a few rounds of drinks and then settled down to dinner. Allison had spent the afternoon in my apartment preparing the meal. Luckily, she had prepared enough spaghetti for eight people. Mike ate four platefuls.
After dinner we went back into the living room. I put some records on the phonograph and brought out the bottle of Drambuie I had picked up on the way home.
Mike said he didn't care for any liqueur. He would stick to Scotch. Allison, Sylvan and I split the bottle among us. It's potent stuff. By the time the bottle was empty we were all feeling no pain whatsoever.
Mike was sitting in an armchair with Sylvan curled up at his feet. Sylvan kept caressing Mike's thighs and blowing kisses up at him. Since they were being so uninhibited, Allison and followed suit. We sat on the couch with our arms about each other. It was a nice relaxed evening.
For a while it was. Up until the time Mike finished the Scotch. We all felt like having another drink by then but I had no more booze in the house. I did have a half a case of beer in the refrigerator and we all decided to switch to that. Mike offered to help me get the beer and gla.s.ses.
We went out to the kitchen. The kitchen was located next to the living room. An open archway connected the two rooms. From the living room one could see the stove but the refrigerator and sink were at the opposite end of the room, s.h.i.+elded from view by a folding screen.
Mike got the cans of beer out of the refrigerator while I took the gla.s.ses down from the cupboard. I was opening the cans on the sink drain board when Mike came up behind me and put his arms around me.
”What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?” I asked him, trying to make my voice as icy as possible.
”Come on, baby, they can't see us in here. How's about a kiss.”
”No. I...” Mike shut me up by pulling me to him and kissing me. His mouth was wet and sloppy. I thought I was going to choke.
I pushed him away. ”Look, Mike, let's just bring the beer out to Sylvan and Allison. We'll just forget that this ever happened. Don't worry, I won't tell Sylvan.”
”Aah, who cares what that queer thinks?”
”Queer? What do you think that makes you?”
”I ain't no fruit,” Mike protested. ”Just 'cause I go for a little of it once in a while don't make me no pansy. It ain't for me. I go for women. This here guy Sylvan, he come up to me one night in a bar. I was just in there for a drink. I didn't know it was a queer joint.”
”You didn't have to go with him,” I said.
”It was late at night. I didn't have no dough. He told me I could stay at his place. So I went with him. Like I told you, I like to have it that way sometimes. But that don't make me no queer. This guy Sylvan, he'd be all right. He's got a nice soft body, like a woman, ya know? But he's always trying to kiss me and all that. I don't go for that.”
”I don't want to hear about it! You're not fit for someone like Sylvan to walk on and you have the nerve to talk about him that way!”