Lumenque Inventae Purpureum
 
 

FROHIKE:

We're in my living room, beers all around, bitching at the CNN commentators.

This scene has been played out a million times over by the three of us. But not so much in recent history. Every once in a while, we're all piled into Langly's living room, but there's usually a flock of ancillary people floating around.

This is like the old times. When we were all living under one roof.

At first we had offices in Baltimore, and kept our separate residences. That went all to hell when Susanne Modeski Byers was murdered. We had to get out of town.

Which was difficult for me. I was born in Baltimore. I'd spent the largest chunk of my life in this city, compared to the other places I'd lived.

Actually, I don't think you can count Club Fed as living, although the food wasn't too terrible.

And in country...that was more like dying.

I had a life in New Jersey. A million years ago. Jan, the kids...

After Club Fed, I went back to Baltimore. I was comfortable there. It was my home city.

And I knew if I stayed in Jersey, there'd be trouble with Jan. So I went south to my native turf.

After Susanne's unfortunate passing, we settled in Southeast DC.

We selected our particular site because of the price of square footage.

We soon found out why. The area had the highest crime rate in the city. I lost more than a few car radios in the first few months.

It was an atrocious place, filthy, in poor repair. We could watch the drug dealers out front ply their trade with the working girls in the event there was nothing on TV.

It also had plenty of dive bars, decent pizza parlors, a 24-hour Safeway a block away, and the best damn cheesesteaks on the planet in the takeout next door.

We had some truly terrible times there. And some wonderful ones as well.

This is somewhere in between.

Byers has loosened his tie a bit and is well into his second beer.

"You know, you oughta lose the suit, at least in the summer!" Langly chides him.

"It's not summer yet. And I don't feel comfortable working without it."

"Christ, how do you do it? Only time I ever put a suit on was my wedding tux. Which was torture, by the way." He glares meaningfully at me. Since it was my idea.

I have no regrets, nor would I change what I did. I was in charge, with Miss Miranda, and we informed them that if they were unhappy with our planning, they were welcome to do it themselves.

They shut up, for the most part.

"Allison thought you looked hot in it." I remind him of this factoid.

He blushes a little. "Yeah, she did, didn't she?" Then a big-shit eating grin, then glum. Langly can change, just like that. Always could. Being married hasn't evened out his moods as much as I thought it might. And impending fatherhood is not improving his disposition.

Be fair, Frohike. It didn't improve yours, either. You were a wreck, especially before Leslie was born.

And there was the no sex in the last six weeks...which for Blonde Boy, looks like it's going to last a lot longer than six weeks.

It's a long way to February. I hope we don't all kill him before then.

And Byers. Still outwardly calm, still inwardly squirming. I wish he'd make up his damn mind and marry the girl. I think he wants to...I think he's being chickenshit about it.

Goddammit, I know you loved Susanne...but you have something a lot of us don't get, you idiot.

Another chance.

Actually, that's not fair. I did get a second chance. It ended far too soon, and far too permanently for my liking...but I'm grateful it did happen.

What I wouldn't give to have Dee back.

I think anything and everything would just about cover it. Except my kids.

My kids are a pain in the ass, but they are sacrosanct. And again, they are really my kids.

Which means my worries are now concrete as opposed to abstract.

It's been so different since we came to the burbs. We all have separate residences again, and for the young ones, their relationships have taken precedence in their lives over our former existence.

This is not a bad thing, not at all. They need that. The loneliness that surrounded them like dark gray clouds is dissolving, and there does seem to be a weird semblance of peace to them.

Most of the time.

And moving to the burbs coincided closely with Michael joining us. I have allowed him to move into the circle.

I'm debating the wisdom of that decision very heavily as of late.

He is so young, and while I see him growing, he is still immature, indiscreet, and unfocused.

This could be very damaging. To all of us.

What separates Michael from the rest of us is that Michael has not learned that actions can have consequences far beyond what is obvious or imaginable. He is still a child, living in the now, basking in whatever emotion happens to be swinging him at that moment.

Yes, we have the same problem with Langly...but Langly, through hard experience, learned to keep his mouth shut long ago when necessary. In terms of work, Langly is no babbler.

And of course, Byers is the soul of discretion...so much that at times, you have to wonder what lurks in that organized, encyclopedic mind.

I'm acutely aware that Langly and Byers were not pleased initially at my permitting Michael to work with us. It took some time, but they began to accept him.

Now, instead of my defending my son to them, they seem to be the ones holding me to the bastard standard.

It's always been my role in this to be the bastard. I think this is because I'm the grand old man, although at 56, I hardly like to consider myself ancient. I've always been the one to veto things, to call them off, to correct and criticize and cajole.

Christ. How did I get wrapped up in that?

Simple. Two kids, craving attention and parental support. Damaged goods. Not having what they needed.

I do my best to give them what they need. Sometimes it's enough. Sometimes not.

And in the early years, it was definitely like having young children around-in order to survive, small children focus on themselves. They have to. Like it or not, they have to be cognizant of this in order simply to get by.

When you're the parent figure, your needs don't get much addressing. You give and you give and you give.

I don't resent this. It's part of the drill.

Particularly when you develop the affection for them that I have. Only my own children have an edge in that department, and since they are my flesh and blood, I don't think one can grudge me this.

I take a sip of J&B, and I go back to the long nights after Susanne's death, dealing with a numb, desolate Byers. Who would sit for hours in utter silence, by my side, simply needing me to be there. And when the numbness wore off, there was the confusion, the anger, the sheer misery of getting through each and every day.

I was there for that. I may not have done a stellar job, but I was there. And I did what I could.

Maybe he is a little less tortured because of it.

With Langly, it was one thing after another...the long nights of crying drunks, cleaning up after his latest binge, rehab...he'd cling on to me like a dying man clings to his last breath, begging me not to leave him. He was terrified in rehab. Phone calls every night, sometimes for hours...when we were able to bring him home, he followed me everywhere, afraid to be out of my presence.

I stayed with him.

And he is today a much better man. Maybe I helped. Maybe I didn't. I have no way of knowing.

I do know I felt a surge of pride when he stepped up to the altar on his wedding day. For me, it said, yes, Frohike, it was worth the trouble.

Tonight, having them bicker in my living room, this takes me back.

Except tonight, the source of their bickering has ceased to be CNN, but is...

My video collection.

THAT video collection, yes.

In all the years we have been together, not once have the three of us ever watched one of my collectibles together. They've walked through the room when I've been engaged, and I know they've borrowed them when nothing else was available for sheer release.

At least they remember to rewind.

Byers is making noises about wanting to view "Patsy's Pastry Shoppe," a title which correctly suggests that baked treats are involved in certain...activities.

"That's got food in it? Eeuw, gross!" Langly, who seems to never stop eating, apparently doesn't combine the two sensate areas of his life.

"That's because you're a glutton and you don't appreciate good food," Byers shoots back.

"Do so! Ally's a good cook!"

"Yes, but there must be a reason why she doesn't permit food in the bedroom," Byers counters. Langly discovered shortly after closing the deal, so to speak, with Allison, that she doesn't permit anything other than beverages in the bedroom, and she makes no bones about her dislike of food in the private areas of her home. She'll go as far as soup if Langly is ill, and beyond that, you'd better be able to walk to the kitchen if you expect to get fed in her home.

Apparently no such proscriptions exist in the Byers-Parker establishment. I suspect the two of them can eat a seven-course meal in bed without so much as dropping crumbs into the blankets.

And Byers is being strangely adamant in his desire to view this particular video.

God knows what he and Juliet have been up to. It's the quiet ones you need to be suspicious of.

Of course, there is no snuff in my collection, and I'd be a lot more concerned if either of them were searching for it. I don't keep anything stronger than very mild, consensual bondage. There are no rape scenes in my videos.

There is, of course, a lot of out and out fucking. Which is the whole point of watching these things.

Langly's chosen to cast his vote for "Jewish American Princesses"...big surprise there. I remember when he first met Allison, he made a crack about JAPs not giving blow jobs.

He hasn't repeated this sentiment since. I have a suspicion that Allison has corrected his assumptions, in more ways than one.

I notice he hasn't told a JAP joke in over two years. I've heard some, but they've been from Allison, who apparently shares them with her Jewish girlfriends. And apparently finds some of them amusing.

Listening to the two of them carry on like schoolboys, I'm tempted to shove in 'Emmanuelle Takes a Holiday' and tell them to shut up or leave.

I tell them we'll flip to see which movie we see first.

Byers wins with tails.

Langly sulks. He demands to know if it was a fair coin.

I let him flip it, just to see.

Comes up heads.

"Ha! See! I won!"

"You did not!" Byers chides him. "Frohike flipped, and that's the toss that counts!"

Okay, that's it. Emmanuelle, you are the lady of the evening.

Sylvia Kristel is one hot babe, anyone has to admit that.

So I tell both of them they can either stay for the movie, or they can get their asses out my front door right now.

I notice both of them make no attempt to leave the apartment.
 

Okay, so Emmanuelle is what's considered to be 'soft porn.'

Like I give a shit what anyone else thinks.

As if somebody could object to sex as an art as opposed to brute sport.

Well, I'm sure some do, but I'm not one of them.

Strangely enough, I'm hoping my son will be out for a while with his young lady.

I'd hate to have him walk in on us like this...
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly takes my clothes and puts them in the washing machine with some of hers.

"You got something I can put on?" I ask her. I'm lying on her bed, stark naked.

She looks over at me and giggles. "Who said you were going to need any clothes?"

Okay, I can live with that.
 

I'm a little nervous about showering with Kelly at Chateau Langly. I mean, I used to live here, for Christ's sake...

She reminds me that Miranda is out at Jesse's.

Okay, I can do this.

I still feel a little awkward. I mean, I've made love to Kelly in this house-and it's making love, believe me-every time I do it, I get more and more attached to her-but something about being in a bathroom she shares with Princess Miranda...

Who, bless whatever gods may be out there, isn't home.

This is so great. I mean, I don't like it as much as I did the tub at the shore. That was awesome. But it's good to be clean, and Kelly washes my hair...can I have her do this all the time? It's like getting a scalp massage.

And when she's done with that, she massages some of the other places on me.

Her shampoo, which she uses on me, smells like melons. I LOVE melon.

And I'm kind of ticklish there, but when she soaps my armpits, it's like, wow, I didn't think something like this could be even remotely seductive.

Sure isn't when I'm doing it.

I put my chest against her back. I'm not much taller than she is, so I could slide myself right in her...and I do. I'm surprised I could get it up again so soon, let alone feel like I'm gonna come again.

And I do. Rapidly. Goddamn, what this girl does to me.

I think Ally referred to this one time as 'a tergo.' From behind.

And having my stomach pressed against her plump cheeks...oh man...I do it again. It takes longer this time, but I'm happy about that. It gives me time to run my hands through her curls, soap her up, feel where she gets hard under those curls.

Her tits are puffy and her nipples are hard as rocks.

And all because of me.

This is so incredible.

I am gonna be so sore tomorrow, and I don't give a fuck about it.
 

We're lying in her bed while our stuff dries. She stays naked with me.

She asks me if we can do it again.

Goddamn, she is insatiable!

The little minx.

I hate to tell her this, but...

I think I'm spent. I think I shot every seed I had. At least for now.

But she's still incredibly horny. So I play with her tits until she comes, moaning real hard, arching her back, and then finally, falling into my arms and we're both so tired...

Thank God.
 

FROHIKE:

We've enjoyed a few beers, and Langly made popcorn-even if it's porn, that boy still seems to require popcorn at movies.

Byers is stretched out on the sofa, jacket and tie removed, Langly on the floor, Docs unlaced.

I'm in my easy chair, enjoying a beer and the sensual delights of Miss Kristel.

I wonder if my two compadres are having half as much fun.

For Byers, Juliet is in northern New Jersey, and will be for at least the rest of the week. For Langly, a wife with a high-risk pregnancy.

I feel a little malicious satisfaction in knowing that they aren't getting any right now.

I look over at them while Emmanuelle is getting an acupuncture-seduction in one scene; I always hated this scene. And they are...

Sleeping. Both of them.

Is this like old times or what?

Only now, instead of prodding them just awake enough to lead them to the next room, I have to arouse them sufficiently that they can find their car keys, let alone drive home.

I'd better start some coffee.
 

After a long battle to get them conscious, organized, and out the door, I'm alone, and watching the credits roll on the movie, which I paused while I attempted to roust them.

Michael better get his ass home soon.

On second thought, maybe he should stick around where he is for a while...
 

"1-900-HOT-BABE."

The voice is low, soft, and seductive.

"What's your pleasure this evening, sir?"

I think I hear a faint Carolina drawl there.

Vaguely familiar. I think. I'm trying to recall where...

No. There is no way.

The voice reminds me of a woman who was one of Byers's nurses when he was so terribly ill.

Coincidence.

"What's your name?" The voice purrs in my ear.

"Uh...Melvin."

"Hi, Melvin. I'm Martha. What can I do for you tonight?"

Martha. Wasn't that the name of one of the nurses...

No. Martha was a professional woman. No way would she be working the phone sex lines.

"Well...I was thinking...I'd like to be with a professional woman. Someone organized, put together, clean, conventional. Like an accountant."

"Funny you should say that. I am an accountant. Would you like me to add up your columns for you?"

Her voice is this wonderfully soft purr. Like a cat rubbing up against me.

Oh God.   She is making me so hot.

"Yes...I would."

"All right. What's in your credit column, Melvin?"

"Uh...I'm six foot two, 190, dark hair, dark eyes."

"Oh, my. I love tall men."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm five foot six, 125, auburn hair, green eyes..."

Oh God.

"Are you sure you're only 125?"

"Well, actually...more like 145..."

Okay, now we're getting somewhere. I like padding.

"Do you have...large breasts?"

"Definitely. They're in my assets column." Purr, purr, purr.

"And would you show them to me?"

"I certainly would. They're very white, very round, and very large."

"Could I put my head on them?"

"Definitely. I'd love to feel you resting on me. There, that's it. I can feel all of your weight now, and let me tell you, Melvin, you have assets."

She is SO hot.

"Would you like me to invest those assets for you, Melvin?"

Oh, would I ever.

"I'm going to invest you in my private account...it's very safe. And very warm."

"Yes." I'm barely able to talk now.

"My, your minimum balance is well over the limit...we'll just have to have you pay some of that out...let me move a little...there...how do you feel?"

"Very nice." And then some.

"Melvin, I want you to deposit some of your assets in my private account..." Her purr has become breathless. "Melvin. Give it to me. Now."

And I feel myself release, let go...

"That was wonderful, Melvin...you truly paid interest to me on that."

"Thank you."

"Call again anytime you need to...make a deposit. Goodnight." Purr, purr, purr.

Then silence.

And goddamn it if I don't hear Michael's keys in the door at this very moment.

It's my turn to hide.

END OF PART 24