Chapter 6

Very early the next morning, Rachel woke up Joe and his wives. “Where is he, Joe?” she growled. “Where is that little cocksucker?”

He couldn’t help laughing. Appropriate word choice. But then he got serious. “Be quiet, Rachel. Let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to be quiet.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” said Moe. “You better not wake the kids.”

“Fuck you. What are you going to do?”

“Beat the bitch out of you?” Moe growled, getting out of bed, dressed like Cheryl and Joe, in t shirt and boxers, and stood in front of Rachel. “You don’t think I can or don’t want to?”

Even angrier, Rachel glared. But said nothing. She looked from Moe to Joe and stalked out.

Joe sighed and got up. Cheryl did too. “I’ll check on the kids,” she said. “Go back to sleep, Moe.”

“God she riles me up,” Moe muttered.

He hugged and kissed her, morning breath be damned. She relaxed. “Okay,” she smiled and slipped back into bed.

Cheryl checked on the kids. Joe checked on Essie, who looked dead to the world. “Just Nigel,” said Cheryl. “But he went right back to sleep.”

“Good.”

“I’ll come down with you.”

“To protect me?”

“I’m not worried,” she chuckled.

They found Rachel in the kitchen, filling a glass full of white wine. “Couldn’t find your booze,” she muttered.

He pulled the wine bottle from her hand with a little effort. He was a lot stronger than her. Some wine spilled. “Not going to help,” he said, handing the bottle to Cheryl and dumping out the glass.

“Fuck you,” said Rachel.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her arm.

Cheryl began cleaning up the spill. “I’ll make breakfast,” she said.

“We’ll be in the padded cell,” he said.

“The what?” said Rachel.

Cheryl and he laughed. “You’ll see,” he said. “But don’t get any ideas.”

“Whatever.”

He pulled her into the elevator. It took them to the basement. He pulled her past the guest room where she slept to a heavier door than any other. It had a keypad on it. He pressed the keys to open it, making sure Rachel didn’t see them. Their little dungeon room also held their valuables. And he didn’t want the kids intruding while he and his wives and girlfriends had their little orgies there.

“Jesus,” said Rachel, seeing the large bed with black blankets and sheets. Gunmetal posts at head and foot with loops attached. A large safe sat in the back corner. It held important papers, some emergency cash, their most expensive jewelry, and tools for kinky sex. The S & M stuff he hardly ever used. Mostly when Constance came to town. Although he’d had a couple women who shared her kink, and found decent masters for them. But blindfolds came out to play more often. And restraints. And the drawers of dildos, vibrators and harnesses for strap ons got the most use. Of course she didn’t see those. The bed was enough.

“It’s our playroom,” he told her. “It’s also padded, hence the padded cell.” He closed the door.

She chuckled darkly. “You waited until I’m not interested,” she muttered.

“Still not interested,” he told her. “Here you can yell all you want.”

“He’s with him, isn’t he?” Rachel quietly seethed.

“Probably. Last I saw him he said he’d come back here.”

“But he was with...”

“Trevor was driving the limo.”

“Fucking faggot.”

“But he’s your faggot.”

“Not talking about Eddie. You know he’s fucking you?”

“Not anymore,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Trevor definitely isn’t my clone. Eddie figured that out after getting over his fantasy of me fucking him.”

“You sure he’s over it?”

“No.”

“And that doesn’t weird you out?”

“It does. Puts a weird filter over my memories of him. But I really don’t think it affects our friendship.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Because it will never happen. Sure, like I think every man, I’ve thought about it. And unlike most men, I’ve actually been with men. But only with a woman between us. And nothing about that ever changed my mind about being exclusively heterosexual. What excited me about those experiences, just like any of my sexual experiences, was the women getting off. A lot of times more so with two cocks. But nothing about it had to be with me wanting to be with that other man. I didn’t want to blow him or fuck him or even kiss him. And I’ve had my anus penetrated, by a strap on dildo, and not only did it not do anything for me, it felt utterly weird and unpleasant.”

“Maybe because you might have liked it. And that worried you.”

“Maybe. Nevertheless, it’ll never happen again. I like to fuck assholes. But only women’s. I happen to particularly like women’s asses, so there’s that. Even though I actually prefer facing her, because making love is more satisfying than just fucking.”

“You never check out a man’s tight little ass?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes I appreciate it. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck it.”

“But you think about it.”

“Occasionally.”

“You’re a closeted queer as much as Eddie was.”

“I’m not. Thinking and acting are completely different things. An occasional thought does not make me gay, or even bisexual. It makes me human, with a complicated mind where anything can come up. And no, it never makes me come up. Fucking or being fucked by men has never been a fantasy. Touching or being touched. Blowing or being blown.”

“You sure? I’ve heard men can be better at it, like women are better at eating women’s cunts.”

He laughed. “No one’s a better cocksucker than Cheryl,” he said when the door opened.

“Why thank you, Joe,” Cheryl giggled, placing the platter of food and drinks on the one table in the room. Seating shifted to be in front of the table. Cheryl sat opposite Joe next to Rachel. “Did she play her women sucking women better card?”

“Yep.”

“Joe’s the best cunt sucker I’ve ever had, Rachel. Not to mention, the better fucker than any man.”

“Rub it in,” said Rachel.

“Eddie still not very good?”

“At cunnilingus? Not even when he tries.”

“I tried training him.”

“I remember. Eddie’s got my favorite cock though. It’s like a perfect fit. And unlike most relationships, he’s actually gotten better. Lasts a lot longer, you know?”

“I definitely know,” Cheryl giggled.

“Joe’s your favorite cock.”

“Always.”

“What am I going to do?” Rachel finally asked, quietly and sadly.

“Love him,” Joe said.

“That’s the problem,” she muttered.

“No it’s not. It’s the solution.”

“If you love him let him go,” she quoted.

“No. Neither of you want that. It’s like the way it’s always been with you. Except you need to let him be the selfish one.”

“Fuck you.”

“You know he’s right,” said Cheryl. “You like your bisexual pets, probably more than Eddie ever did.”

“He gets another pussy to fuck.”

“And you get him lasting longer. And you get your pussy licked by someone who actually enjoys it. Not to mention your being a total voyeur. Getting off on your man fucking a woman. Watching her get stuffed by his thick dick. Although getting it back up might have been a problem.”

“Not having Samantha there anymore,” he added.

“Sometimes they liked it, or were fairly adept,” Rachel agreed. “Sam was definitely the best, though. In the last couple years, I’ve gotten much better. I’ve come to really enjoy that look he has. But, you know, a man...”

“You never invited a man into your little threesomes?” he asked.

“I invited you,” she cackled, a bit hysterically. “How weird is that, now that we know... ?”

“Ssh,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“I really did want you Joe,” she said into his chest. “Not just that beautiful cock and the rest of you. But I wanted the anger I saw in your eyes. How much you blamed me for Belle and Freddy and all the other shit I pulled. How you didn’t trust me with your best friend. How I kept proving that mistrust. I wanted that, Joe. I wanted you to hurt me.”

“I know,” he said.

“You could have got it all out,” she said.

“I don’t hate you, Rachel. I definitely didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Even if I wanted it? Maybe because I wanted it,” she laughed.

“Maybe.”

She pulled away from him. “Eddie encouraged it. Jesus. How fucked up we are?”

“But no other man?” Cheryl asked.

“Just once. And something about it...”

“Eddie maybe liking the addition too much,” he said.

“I don’t know if I got that consciously. But subconsciously I must have. I told myself I liked having the girl better. For him and for me. Little did I know.”

“When did you know?” Cheryl asked.

“Not until ... that driver.”

“But... , “ he began.

“That he’d been with other men? He never said until ... Kept it from me.”

“Why?” asked Cheryl.

“Because I’m a bitch. I would have teased him mercilessly. He knew that.”

“You don’t like gay men?’ he asked.

“Nope. Men are wimps anyway. Present company excluded. A fag’s just too much wimpiness for me.”

“What?” Joe exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “You don’t think I’m whipped? Cheryl’s got a very dominant personality. I even call her boss.”

“You’re still stronger.”

“He is,” said Cheryl.

“We’re equals,” Joe insisted.

“I’ve always needed your strength Joe. As a lover and a man. Your confidence and your compassion. Never that macho shit. You’ve always been strong enough to care, and even empathize with women. Too many guard themselves from that. Thinking it’s a weakness. It’s not. You’re the proof.”

“He’s a mensch, as Eddie would say,” Rachel agreed.

“Yes he is.”

“Uhm, thanks?” Joe said.

“He’s getting humble in his old age,” Cheryl giggled.

“You really need to let him have this,” Joe told Rachel, “if you love him.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“What’s disgusting? Have you seen him with another man?”

“No, but I can imagine it.”

“You don’t have to imagine him being with other women. Being with you. Has he enjoyed that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“He’s a moody guy. He needs to be alone.”

“Rather than being with some pretty woman he just fucked?”

“Yeah.”

“Or you?”

“I don’t know!” Rachel shouted. “He likes me! Maybe even loves me! Wouldn’t he have kicked me out of his life by now if he didn’t?”

“You’ve been his pal for years,” Joe continued. “His partner in getting wasted. His crazy gal pal. You’re like his id. His release valve. And when it gets too much, he does kick you to the curb. But you’ll always have power over him, because he needs that. He’s submissive.”

“You’re saying he’s a wimp?”

“I guess I am.”

“Eddie Fucking Frank a fucking wuss?”

“Yeah. Eddie Frank, Superstar. All that power on stage making every female wet. The envy of every boy. He’s like the great leader who retires behind his castle walls to get bound and whipped and degraded. Because he needs the humility, the humiliation to make things right in his mind. To balance things.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Samantha and Joanne and you. And me I guess. From the beginning of this adventure into stardom, he’s given ladies the power. And I guess he envied mine over the ladies. Maybe he wanted me to exercise that power over him, thus the fantasy of me fucking him.”

“I think I always knew there was something hinky about that ... faggot,” Rachel spat out. “That he looked like a pretty boy version of you. You know Joanne always sets up the driver for Eddie. A safety thing. Make sure he’s vetted. So there’s this ... you driving Eddie around. And Eddie would go off for a night or a weekend, which wasn’t that unusual. Although everything was unusual when all this shit started happening. I decided to get straight, and Eddie decided to get straight with me so to speak.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess he got straight and bent at the same time. Whatever. But he was willing to get off the sauce and the powder with me. Or maybe you’d say I made him. Maybe I did. So when he’d go off on these excursions I figured he’d get fucked up away from me. But he didn’t. I could tell. And he’d always leave and always come back in the limo. That wasn’t usual either. Or at least every fucking time.

“At the same time, Eddie was going through that fucked up trauma of remembering being abused by his uncle and his fucking mother. I mean faggot boy arrived at the scene maybe a couple weeks before. Eddie’d gone off a couple times. A couple nights. Then wham! I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to tell me. He was completely ashamed even though obviously it couldn’t possibly be his fault. But he was so completely distraught. Basically catatonic for a while. So he had to let me know what happened. But the way he told me ... like he was some sort of automaton. Like a fucking robot or something. And then you guys got involved, and that helped. But ... he didn’t work it out through me. More weekend jaunts. Away and home with faggot boy. Not looking like he tied anything on. Instead, looking as relaxed as I’d ever seen him. That was faggot boy, right?”

“That was Trevor,” Joe nodded.

“One of my boy/girlfriends, you know a girl with a penis, saw them together at one of those ultra-exclusive, ultra-rich soirees where the closeted can come out of the closet with hired girl/boys and flaming queens for a night of intimate orgies and overall debauchery. All hush hush, no one the wiser sort of shit only the rich can get, or I suppose the poor can too because nobody fucking cares. I guess they hired the wrong transvestite to keep their secret. I think Miss Sweet Thang had the hots for Eddie and flipped out seeing him with faggot boy and hoped to get some entrée into my boyfriend’s bung hole or some shit. And wouldn’t you know during that fucked up time, right after I’m confronting him, he gets the call that fucking Nigella died. So he flips out. Confesses all. Apologizes a million times. And we fucking make love! It was so sweet I had to forgive him, the little fucker! Then the burial and memorial comes up and he fucking disappears on me! I’m thinking faggot boy again. And I guess I was right, but only in a fucked up way. So you call me, and I find out about the shit hitting the fan, and we’re back together, making love, and him telling me he wants me to be his manager and then ... Gone.”

“I know this is a lot to ask, Rachel,” Joe started. “Especially considering how little you like gay men. But I think you have to give him this if you want him to be whole.”

“Which hole,” she snorted.

“I’m serious.”

“If we were married, there’d be a serious divorce suit about alienation of affection.”

“I get that. Maybe he needed me more than I thought.”

“No shit.”

“I mean I’d never let it go there. Because I’m definitely not interested. But we were really the only male friends we had growing up. There was Simon, but it was like we almost felt sorry for him. Everybody treated him like shit. So we decided to befriend him. And we like him. And we were almost as close to Harriet as we were to each other, but her being female, even if she preferred the same sex as we did, or at least I thought we did, had enough difference to make her that much less important in that bonding boys can have, sharing the good and bad of growing up male. And we were as close I think as anyone can be without having sex. And then suddenly it was gone. We had girlfriends. His either wanted me nowhere near him or wanted me to fuck her more than him, one enough to hurt her, while Eddie fucks her pussy the way she likes it. Not about bonding or friendship. And instead of loving each other as best friends, he resents me. Taking his girlfriends. Making him feel inadequate. Nothing I would have done before we created a band and girls became a significant part of our life. Even with him helping me with the music of my show, and me helping to promote him, assisting him in his first steps to fame, we had a traumatic split. Obviously it affected him more than me, but he’s still the only real male friend I have of any real depth. Best friends. Even if it seems like we haven’t been for a decade.”