“Maybe you should cut down on the length of the general meeting,” Tod said, fighting back a grin. The so-called “general meeting” following dinner had been a classic production of debauchery that would have turned the Roman hedonists green with envy. At one point, all five women had been on hands and knees atop the revolving divan; their smooth rounded buttocks had been pointing outward. The divan was timed to stop for twenty seconds in front of each man.
The women had squealed like a herd of pigs being led to slaughter as their rectums and cunts were soundly reamed for twenty second periods. The hole to be used was at the discretion of the male. Another time, Tod looked up from his energetic fucking of Sara to gaze around the room; the floor was covered with writhing, moaning bodies. The entire orgy had lasted slightly over three hours. Then, satiated and exhausted, the participants had begun falling asleep.
Because Tod felt relatively awake compared with the others he had volunteered to ride in the wheel house with Hunt on their return to the mainland. Hunt had turned over the wheel to Tod within seconds from the time the anchor was lifted aboard.
Tod had welcomed the solitude and had spent almost the entire time behind the wheel thinking about Sylvia. Except for the revolving divan episode, he hadn’t been permitted to make love to her. Probably, he thought, it was just as well. He didn’t look forward to telling her that he was resigning, but he knew it had to be done. He was getting much too involved with her. That’s what he had wanted to do in the beginning. Not now, though. She would destroy him, just as she was destroying herself. In the end, she would make a eunuch of him. This insane desire for revenge against her husband Bruce; she couldn’t be swayed away from that… even at the cost of her self-respect and decency. He had known women like that in the past. Bad news… always bad news, that’s what they were.
Now Hunt reached across him and pulled the throttled down to quarter-speed as they entered the yacht basin. The Jolly Rogue slowed in the water then coasted toward its mooring as the throttles were shut down completely. Hunt let go the stem anchor while Tod went forward and tied up at the buoy.
Hunt yawned again and scratched himself He gazed sleepily around at the morning mists still hugging the water. The sound of a garbage truck grinding up trash came echoing from the shore. “Well another day, another dollar,” Hunt said, obviously not energetic enough to make conversation. He yawned again.
“You going to wake up the rest of them?” Tod asked.
“Nah… hell, let them sleep,” Hunt answered then turned to Tod, “You in a hurry to get ashore?”
Tod thought for a moment. He nodded. “I think I’d better get Sylvia back to the hotel. I’m due in San Jose this afternoon.”
“Okay, take the launch. Just leave it tied up at Freddie’s Landing. Tell him I’ll ship-to-shore him when we’re ready to come ashore.”
Tod went down into the main salon where Sylvia slept stretched out on a couch. He looked down at her naked body and tried to think what it would be like to wake up every morning and find her beside him. It was a fantasy he could no longer afford. Wanting to remember her, he mentally took a picture of her as she was now her lips slightly parted, a soft tentative smile on her face as she dreamed, and a golden strand of hair entwined like a necklace around her neck. Her breasts rose and fell gently with her even breathing. Yes, he thought, she would be something to remember… always.
He reached down and touched her shoulder. “Sylvia.” She came awake at once and looked up at him. She smiled happily and reached out for his hand. Then, abruptly, as recollection of the night’s events came flooding back into her mind, her expression changed. She closed her eyes as if to blot it out.
“We’re in the harbor,” he said. “I’m going ashore. You want to come with me?”
She shuddered. “Oh, God… yes!” It was said quickly as she swung her feet onto the deck. She looked around her in distaste.
Hunt had lowered the launch and the loading ramp. He held Sylvia’s hand, all the while inspecting her. “God, honey, you were really something special. I’m glad you came to the party,” he said, and then smiled at Tod and added, “You, too, of course.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Ah… we all will be up to Pebble Beach for that party you were talking about,” Hunt said, patting her hand paternally. “Looking forward to it on the twenty-fifth. Should be fun with an all-black outfit invited too; they’re real swingers, you know.” He beamed and looked as if the thought were bringing him completely awake.
Sylvia quickly went down the stairs into the launch, where Tod steadies her as she sat down amidships. She looked up and waved back at the Jolly Rogue as Tod opened the throttle. Then, silent and lost in her own thoughts, she sat with shoulders hunched forward as if she were warding off a blow. She stared woodenly at the approaching wharf, not really seeing it nor feeling the coolness of the morning.
They both remained silent all the way back to the hotel. The first words either of them said came from Sylvia when they got into their suite. “I’d like to take a shower.” Tod nodded. Sylvia turned to him and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, to explain something, but then fell silent.
When Tod spoke, he sighed deeply. “I won’t be here when you come out. I’m going back home.”
She reeled back as if she bad been slapped, a look of astonishment and bewildered hurt on her face. “You’re what?” It was said unbelievingly.
“I’m going back home. To where I belong. I’m resigning. You’re going to have to get yourself another boy.” He held up his hand as she attempted to interject. “No!” he said sternly. “Let me finish. Don’t say anything until I’m through. Then go take your shower. When you come out again, I’ll be gone.”
She blinked, and her eyes were misty. She swallowed loudly, “I… don’t understand, Tod. Why?”
This was the part he had dreaded. He rubbed his face wearily and sought to organize his words. “Answer me a question first,” he demanded. “Are you still planning the big party?”
She closed her eyes.
Tod sighed again. “I was sure that would be the case. Look… I’m not sure you’ll understand what I’m trying to say. I want to tell you something about yourself You operate from a base of hate. I don’t know when it started, but it had reached its full bloom before you married your husband. You use people as objects of hate. You used me, photographs of me… so you could hurt your husband. You used yourself last week and last night; you humiliated yourself, destroyed your self-respect… not because you wanted to have sex with other men. That, at least would be understandable. No, you fucked them all solely because you needed these people for a party. Is the party going to be held for fun? No. It’s being held to hurt your husband. You’re inviting an all-Black and on the basis of what I saw of them, a fairly decent bunch of Blacks to the party. You’re going to use them as objects of hate. You want your husband to walk in and see a Black man making love to you. That’s your revenge! You’ve used us all… just as though we were expendable pawns. I have no doubt that right now you feel you’re essentially a much nicer person than Sally or Liz or Betty or Sara. I mean, in your mind they’re just a bunch of swappers. And yet, there’s this important difference between them and you; it’s what makes them far, far better human beings than you are. You see… they enjoy what they’re doing; they enjoy swapping… they do it out of hunger and love. And you, Sylvia? You do it from hate, for reasons of your own… you use us all for some stinking, petty, spiteful, little scheme of revenge.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s odd, too. You’re a woman who can give of herself, you have a great deal to give. But I don’t have time or the passive character to wait around until you come to your senses.”