Monday, May 31, 2010

“Uncle Buddy’s House”, Chapter 52: mystery

Buddy’s long days’ journey into night has finally wended its way back to Cordelia’s lovely room at the Hotel Vancouver...

(Click here to see to our previous chapter, or go here to return to the beginning of Uncle Buddy’s House©. “A charming tale of the manifold mysteries of love and sex.” -- J.J. Hunsecker, in Field & Stream)


”Okay,” she said. “First we call room service, and then we’ll see what’s on the cable.”

The condoms were still on the night table.

“Y’know, I’d like to take a bath,” said Buddy. “I saw you had a jacuzzi.”

“Go ahead, Buddy. Oh, but let me pee first.”



He sat in the tub with a little bottle of Evian from her minibar. The jacuzzi bubbled and whirred, he could hear Cordelia watching some movie in the other room. It was good to be alone for a bit. No matter who it was, you had to get away from them sometimes.

She knocked, and spoke through the closed door:

“The dessert’s here, Buddy. I got one chocolate cake with crème anglaise and one chocolate mousse with raspberries, something-sauce.”

“You go ahead, sweety.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“I’ll just have some of the mousse, is that all right?”

“Sure, eat it all.”

“I’ll save you some.”

He put some more bubble bath into the water and watched the jacuzzi foam it up.



“Buddy.”

“Yeah babe.”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

She opened the door.

“I’ll turn the light out.”

He started to say she didn’t have to, but she’d already turned it off. She came in, backlit by the light from the outer room, carrying two flute glasses. She had on an Actors Studio t-shirt and floral pants that were like pajama bottoms, or maybe were pajama bottoms. She sat on the edge of the tub and handed him a glass.

“What the hell’s this?”

“Dom Perignon. I ordered it with the desserts.”

“Jesus Christ, kid -- this shit’s expensive --”

“I don’t care. I wanted to get you something nice.”

“All right then, let’s drink up.”

“Here’s mud in your eye,” she said.

“Down the hatch.”

They drank. The TV was still on out there, something old-timey.

“Hey, get in with me,” said Buddy.

“No, I better not. I told you, I don’t think we should have sex.”

“Ah, you’re wavering, or else you wouldn’t be afraid to get in the tub.”

“Fuck you.”

He touched her breast.

“Sex in a jacuzzi --”

She pulled his hand away.

“Yeah, how very 1980’s,” she said.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Give us a kiss,” said Buddy.

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Stick in the mud.”

“Okay, but just a kiss.”

“Sure.”

She put her glass on the floor, bent down toward Buddy, and they kissed. At first he thought it really was just going to be a quick one, but then she did that thing where she put her hand on the back of his head and it got really good. Buddy still held his champagne flute in his right hand, he almost let it drop into the water. Finally she pulled away.

“Wow,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“That was like our best kiss yet.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She sat there a moment looking at him in the dimness, and Buddy looked back at her. She reached her hand down into the jacuzzi-ing water and touched him, he was hard all right.

“I knew it,” she said, and she drew her hand out.

“Oh, you love it.”

“You mean you love it.”

“Get in with me.”

“No.”

“Well, okay,” said Buddy.

But, no one knew why, she got off the side of the tub, knelt down, leaned her right forearm on the rim of the tub, put her left hand back into the water, and began stroking him.

“Does that feel good?”

“Oh yeah.”

“This I can do,” she said, and she kept doing it.

The water churned and bubbled. Buddy lay back and sipped his champagne and let it happen. Cordelia’s breasts floated under her t-shirt. The Actors Studio --

“So you studied there?” he said, touching the first o.

“Yeah, at the New School.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.”

He almost asked her what James Lipton was like but decided not to.

A minute went by.

“So what were you watching in there?” said Buddy.

She blew some hair away from her eyes.

The Thin Man, but From Here to Eternity’s coming on soon. That’s supposed to be good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. One of my favorite movies.”

“Oh, I really want to watch it then. Who’s in it?”

“Uh, Montgomery Clift. Um, Burt Lancaster. Oh, Christ.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Uh, Frank Sinatra. Donna Reed. Deb-Deborah, um, Deborah Kerr.”

“Oh, I love Deborah Kerr.”

“Cool,” said Buddy.

She kept stroking him, looking down at the jacuzzi water.

“Wait,” said Buddy.

“What?”

“Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yeah.”

She stopped, although she still held onto it.

“Why do you want me to stop?”

“I don’t know. But it’s okay.”

“Aren’t I doing it right?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just -- I don’t know.”

“I was doing it wrong.”

“No. You were doing it perfectly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well -- should I start again, or --”

“Um --”

“Or did you mean I should stop altogether?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Her grip loosened.

“I wasn’t doing it right,” she said.

“No, believe me, you were doing it fine. It’s just --
it’s --”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah --”

She pulled her hand out, shook the water off her fingers.

“And they say women are a mystery. Okay, finish your bath then, and we’ll watch the movie.”

She took her glass, got up, and walked out, in her bare feet, in the dim light, in those flowered pants. She forgot to turn the light back on, but left the door open, it was okay.



She lay on the bed in her pants and t-shirt, smoking a cigarette and watching a commercial. The champagne was in an ice bucket on the night table, right next to the strip of condoms. There was also a dessert plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it and another one with just a chocolate smear on it.

“Okay, the movie’s coming on,” she said.

“Cool.”

She turned off the light by the bed, and he got in with her. He was wearing a fresh boxer shorts and t-shirt ensemble, and he had a definite case of blue balls, something he hadn’t experienced in about thirty years.

She stubbed out her cigarette, and then pulled the covers up over both of them.

“Oh, God, I love it when a movie’s just coming on and it might be a really good one,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Buddy. “Do me a favor, hand me my glasses on the table there, will you?”




Montgomery said to Donna Reed, “We may look all alike. We ain’t all alike.”

“What is she? Like some kind of bar girl?”

“Yeah, sort of. She’s supposed to be a prostitute, but they couldn’t show that sort of thing back then.”

“Buddy, don’t you want your cake?”

“Oh, maybe later.”

“I want a bite.”

“Take it.”

“Thanks.”



Montgomery said to Burt Lancaster, “A man don’t go his own way he’s nothing.”

“Can I eat some more of your cake?” said Cordelia.

“Eat,” said Buddy.



When it got to Burt and Deborah’s famous beach scene Buddy glanced at Cordelia and nudged her.

“Hey, classic shot coming up.”

Burt and Deborah embraced on the wet sand, the tide rushing up over them.

“Oh, hot,” said Cordelia, and she held onto Buddy’s arm. It occurred to him that his blue balls had gone away.



Cordelia started to cry when Monty was playing “Taps” for Frank Sinatra, and so did Buddy. And after Monty handed the bugle to the other guy and walked away, Cordelia leaned her head against Buddy’s shoulder and fell asleep.

Buddy watched the movie for a bit longer, but after the scene where Monty kills Ernest Borgnine he started to get sleepy, and he clicked the TV off. He took off his glasses and put them on the night table on his side.

Cordelia lay curled up with her back to Buddy. He snuggled up against her, felt her hair in his face, he kissed her neck. She stirred, said, “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry,” then settled down. Buddy listened to her breathe. He fell asleep.



He woke up, to blurry morning-light. He lay there on his side, his arm over her. Lifted his arm up, looked at his watch, 7:02. He felt hungover, not surprisingly, and it would get worse, but then it would get better, it didn’t matter. He also had a morning hard-on, pressing comfortably enough into her butt. And he had to pee.

He dragged himself out of the bed and then into the bathroom. He peed through his erection, a lot of pee, the erection went away.

He brushed his teeth, leaning one arm against the wall.

He came out of the bathroom, went to the mini-bar fridge, took out a little bottle of Evian, stood there and drank it all.

The empty Dom bottle stood at an angle in its bucket of water. Two chocolate-smudged dessert plates, the unused strip of condoms.

Cordelia slept peacefully on her side, peacefully-seeming, curled up under the covers. He went over and got back in bed with her, behind her. He ran his hand over her hip and down her thigh. He felt her and her warmth, he could feel her breathing, he breathed in her smell.

He closed his eyes and let himself fall back to sleep.


(Continued here. Alka Seltzer provided free of charge.)

(Please look to the right-hand column of this page to find a listing of links to all other previously aired episodes of Uncle Buddy’s House™; sponsored in part by Dom Perignon Champagne. “Please imbibe responsibly. Remember: you won't be able to enjoy our fine sparkling wine if you're dead or serving hard time for vehicular manslaughter.”)


5 comments:

kathleenmaher said...

Great sexy suspense that's for sure...but I'm starting to doubt Cordelia.
I'll wait till Manny comes home if you don't want to explain it but, some readers (like me)haven't heard of "blue balls." Just guessing but after a frustrating time-span does the blood pool down instead of racing up? You might consider footnotes.

Montgomery Clift was a beautiful man.

Dan Leo said...

Not wanting to be accused of obscurity, Kathleen, I have now installed a link in the text at the mention of "blue balls", which will take you to an article giving more information on that phenomenon than even I wanted to know!

So true about Monty -- between him and Burt Lancaster, "From Here to Eternity" had some serious handsomeness going on...and Clift's playing of taps for his dead friend Maggio is the one of the most memorable non-vocal acting scenes in the history of movies.

Manny said...

all I've got to say is "ouch"

kathleenmaher said...

Dan, Thanks for that link, which only reinforced a theory I'm starting to develop about Buddy and Cordelia, despite knowing better.
Wikipedia mentioned that the condition is sometimes consensual--a state of painful frustration that somehow gratifies both parties.

Dan Leo said...

Manny -- or if not "ouch" at least a slow deep and debilitating ache.

Kathleen, I hadn't even thought about that! Oh, well, at least Buddy has kept Cordelia in that special realm of "the unreachable star"...