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I drove, parked, we climbed in the back, accomplished a few intimate exercises on the sleeping
bags, then lay contentedly in the darkness.
I needed that.
What?
Deep physical and mental contact with someone pure and simple.
Simple?
As in straightforward, uncomplicated, honest and trustworthy.
That s me. Well?
She picked me up just past the Pizza place. I acted as though I didn t remember who she was a
bit spaced out. She offered me two hundred to help out at a dinner tonight. A group of business
people from Melbourne, sizing up the Coast for investments at least that s the story. They want a
bit of entertainment nothing very heavy. There ll be five girls and two guys to match the five men
and two women in the party. No fucking, just eye-candy - sort of pet for the evening something
like that.
Do you want to do it?
No. But I will. Do you mind?
Yes.
Enough to forbid me?
I can deny you nothing.
It s up to me?
Yep.
I promise I ll be careful.
What time?
Nine.
It s nearly eight, that gives us an hour to eat and plan.
I ve eaten. She fed me that s why I was so long. She wanted to make sure I was going to be
sober.
Our plan was simple. I d park the ute as close as possible to the gallery without being obvious. Jon
would go to the private entrance while I made my way down to the beach and climbed up the rocks
so I could approach the back entrance unobserved. After retrieving the spare key I d throw a rope
onto the roof and wait. Jon would grab the first opportunity to sneak up to the roof, secure the rope,
throw the end down, leave the roof door open and we d take it from there. As I said, simple or do
I mean simplistic? He probably wouldn t even get near the door to the roof.
By ten o clock I was starting to panic. Eleven cars and their occupants had arrived. Music and
laughter sounded faintly above the lapping of waves. Suddenly, the slightest of thumps and a black
line jiggled against the white, moonlit wall.
Somewhat less than invisible in dark tracksuit and woollen hat, I hauled myself up, slid over the
coping and froze. Someone was coming out of the door to the stairs. Fortunately, he wandered over
to the other side of the roof where he stood smoking, gazing towards the hills. I pressed myself back
in the deeper darkness behind the coping, not daring to move. Music and light drifting up through
the opened dome had camouflaged my noise. After a couple of minutes he flicked the glowing butt
into the car park, gazed down through the dome, grunted and returned to the gallery.
It was a while before I dared move there might be someone else. I tried the door - locked. I
hauled up the rope and peered cautiously over the edge of the dome. In front of the blocked out
windows, a small stage flanked by urns sprouting gilded foliage, was splashed by the glow of eight
candelabra on small tables beside eight armchairs. The rest of the gallery was lost in shadows.
On stage a blond and a redhead wrestled indolently under an amber spotlight, watched by five
middle-aged, overweight males and two fashionably scrawny women of a similar age dressed for a
subdued cocktail party. Wearing black thongs and nothing else, three young women were serving
something colourful and creamy while Jon and a curly haired youth topped up glasses. Soft music
drowned conversation.
CC, her bones wrapped in lurex spangles, kept an eye on proceedings from the gloom. MacFife,
the only healthy-looking person seated, lounged in the eighth armchair while Glaze, gauntly elegant
in white linen suit, slithered among the guests; chatting, charming, smarming. The girls lazy nude
wrestle progressed to erotic fondling. Plates were cleared, glasses recharged, and guests exchanged
nods of anticipation.
Easy-going music became a staccato beat as Scumble s massively muscled naked body prowled
onto the stage. He grabbed the blond by the hair and thrust her face in his groin, then upended the
redhead and buried his head between her legs. She gazed vacantly into space until Blondie, having
aroused the beast, took a well-earned breather while Scumble copulated doggy style with the
redhead before carrying them off, one tucked under each arm. It was surprisingly funny and the
audience was appreciative.
Glasses were refilled while CC herded the staff upstairs and closed the door. MacFife stood and
asked a question. Everyone laughed and raised hands. CC wheeled in a chromium tea trolley and
handed out straws and lines of what was obviously coke, on slabs of black glass. The excitement
was palpable. Glaze, lean and mean in black codpiece, boots, dog-collar and armbands bristling
with shiny metal spikes, leaped onto the stage, hands on hips, solemn, hard, and not even slightly
ridiculous. The music thumped - insistent.
The trolley was wheeled away, music swelled and the waiters and waitresses, now in gold Lurex
g-strings, lap-danced for their guests. Jon gazed at the ceiling while his woman busied her hands
inside his pouch. Scumble reappeared with a whip and chased the young people away.
The music switched to a jolly rendering of The Teddy Bears Picnic, and a prepubescent-looking
girl carrying a basket of fruit skipped onto the stage, sat on a beanbag, peeled a banana and used it
as a dildo before enticing her partner from his armchair to join her and experiment with different
fruits and vegetables.
What followed was chilling. Two beautiful naked girls chased each other onto the stage and
fought like wild cats. Blood dripped as they bit flesh and tore hair. There was no music, no sound
other then their grunts and snarls. Eventually, one girl pinned the other with a knee on her neck,
strapped on a dildo similar to the one that had done me such damage, and performed. I felt sick but
the audience loved it.
Glaze, in crotchless leather harness, returned to the spotlight dragging a girl by the hair. Jon and
the other boy followed and watched from the floor as Glaze flicked at her with a whip till she
stripped. She cowered back in fear. The audience sat forward in their seats. However, before he
could do anything else, Jon and the youth leaped onstage, snatched the whip and forced him to back
off. The audience booed. The wailing girl clung to the other boy s legs for safety, but he simply
held her while Jon ripped off his g-string, rolled on a condom and mounted her. After a noisy and
obviously faked orgasm, the boys changed places, then each took an arm and dragged the sobbing
creature off.
During the last act, in which Scumble and Glaze both misused a girl, Jon slipped in and whispered
in McFife s ear. He stood and accompanied Jon into the shadows. At the end of the act, CC
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