Chapter 33

By the time filming locations for Harry’s film in Stillwater, mostly the prison, but a couple days at the Vaudeville as well, both inside and out, had finally wrapped after more delays, in a way fortuitous because a bit of winter had arrived by then in the form of a couple inches of snow, Harry had polished the pilot for his proposed PI show. The brothel movie had also been greenlit thanks to Pat and Linda’s production company and other money, both from the Stillwater movie and additional funding, and Pat had finally been convinced to direct it. In fact those involved behind the scenes in the first production would be involved in the second, creating a group not only comfortable with each other, but also highly respectful of each other. They would include Sam as casting director, making it a lot easier for Harry to help choose the cast.

The delay had also been fortuitous as far as letting Harry attend the gallery opening of his erotic drawings along with the introduction of his book of prison convicts to the public. A lot of the women in his life also attended, which probably should have been weird, since many of them were depicted nude, post orgasm, including Connie, a late addition, but instead it was a sort of sisterhood of Harry lovers. Connie was actually working in the basement print studio on her street corner collages. She took precedence in his bed since it had been a while.

“Do I get to choose the company?” she asked sort of kiddingly.

“Pick me!” Chrissy volunteered.

“Sorry,” Connie giggled. “But that would just confuse the man.”

“Probably,” Chrissy pouted.

“Which one, like me, has been missing him the most?” Connie decided to ask.

First one of Chrissy’s sisters chimed in, Lizzy. “Probably me, except I’m not into women.”

And the second sister, Susie, added, “Me either, for the opposite reason,” giggling.

“It’s only been a week and a half or so,” said Jenny, “But I miss him already. And of course we’ve been together.”

“Maybe we can coax him to visit us another night?” Connie proposed.

“I’d like that,” Jenny grinned. “And I do have a room to myself.”

Fia, a surprising last minute addition, spoke. “I was just with Harry and Peg. And I have to fly to Chicago tomorrow for our next gig. But maybe, like you, being with Harry is going to be few and far between.”

“Makes sense,” Connie replied, admiring the redheaded beauty.

“Jenny can stay with us,” Peg suggested. “And you can use her room. But would it be possible...?”

“I’d be honored to sleep with you,” Connie said.

“Who’s talking about sleeping?” Peg quipped. Everyone laughed. Each volunteer hugged and kissed Connie, a preamble to the future, Peg whispering to Connie, “I can give you two some space if you want.”

“Or you could join me with Jenny and Harry,” Connie countered.

“I’d like that,” Peg returned. “I’ve actually never been with Jenny, let alone shared Harry with her at least directly. She’s become his LA wife I guess.”

“Then let’s take care of that.”

“I love Harry’s taste in women.”

“Me too,” Connie giggled.

The opening party, a prurient curiosity because of its erotic nature, ended up getting bids for the original drawings, having photos of the women beside the drawing helped, as well as preorders for the prints and sales of one which Maddie decided to go ahead and run, the one in which Peg and Melly were together, the most erotic drawing of them all. She made sure the customers knew that there’d have to be a minimum order in order for her to print the drawing, giving them a choice of ordering another just in case or returning their money. Most chose the latter. It was a most successful gallery opening, and reviews, though mixed, would bring in new customers during its lengthy run, in which Harry would actually add to the collection, Maddy selling off drawings to the highest bidder to make room. Harry’s book, the first edition signed by him, custom signing when he was there, did well too.

The night after the party had the blonde and redhead pretty much pouncing on Harry, specifically his cock, taking turns sucking and stripping him, then sucking together, one across his glans and one at his shaft or his balls before they shared his cum.

They shared his mouth next, Fia first, while they continued with his cock until he got hard. Once done, Fia gloved him up and rode him while Connie rode his mouth. After Fia came on his cock, she had already climaxed on his mouth before as had Connie, they switched things up, Connie settling on her hands and knees and Harry carefully entering her tightness, finding a high angle that prevented him going too deep while she did the pussy sucking on Fia. And once Harry had opened up the narrow passage, he gradually sped up his thrusts, reaching a speed that created climaxes for both him and Connie.

While resting, Fia showed Connie her music on Harry’s laptop with the proprietary speakers, everyone sitting up in bed, Harry between the two ladies whose hands rested in his lap and promoted the resurrection of his cock while he caressed each of their pussies.

Fia became the focus for the second bout of lovemaking, Connie sitting on her face while Harry slowly shafted her from above and participated himself in licking Connie’s cunt. A couple orgasms later for Fia, she rearranged to have Harry fuck her from behind, continuing the cunnilingus for Connie. Missionary had occurred for a long time and doggy style even longer before Harry finally came for the last time that night. Fia ended up having little sleep before she had to head out to the airport, recovering on the plane.

Everyone else converged on the gallery the next day, Connie to work on her prints and Harry signing his book and the other ladies posing beside drawings of themselves. In the evening, after Chinese in Chinatown, Connie bringing them to her favorite restaurant, they went bar hopping and club crawling.

Harry, Jenny and Connie broke from the crawl early to revisit where they’d been before with each other, and when Peg joined them later, having been given an extra key, that included anal for Jenny while Peg fucked her pussy with a strap-on. Before that climactic event, Peg had her time enjoying Connie, from a sixty-nine to Connie experiencing the strap-on dildo first while Harry matched thrust for thrust beside them inside Jenny. Connie had been well fucked by the time Peg shifted it to Jenny’s pussy and Connie just observed the double penetration event.

With everyone but Connie having to get up early for the flights home, Harry, Jenny and Peg, like Fia before, napped on the flights. Connie had actually woken up with them, but that was mostly so that she could have a last bit of intimacy with Harry, sharing a shower with him, just being with him naked like that because sex wasn’t involved. She stayed behind and ended up sleeping until check out time.

When they got home, Harry had to make up for not being with Chrissy nor sharing her with newer women, though she really preferred having cock around anyway, by spending Sunday almost exclusively with her.

Marisol wanted her time too. She wanted to go to New York for the opening, but had a small role in a student play that weekend, something Harry had to miss as well, though Marisol snuck him in for dress rehearsal. Harry loved her feistiness and sheer determination to get away with things like that, to stomp over any resistance. She introduced him truthfully as a writer who’d written parts for her including the PI scene she’d worked at in class, and less truthfully as someone always looking for new talent for his plays.

Tuesday they had their afternoon in her dorm room sans roommate, where, between fucking her he told her about his New York adventures. She especially got a kick out of the women posing beside their wanton drawings.

Shooting had started by then, but having begun late at night and early in the morning, allowing the Vaudeville to not be disturbed by the shoot, Peg playing bartender and actual regulars, including a couple of the prostitutes that worked there, and having the Stillwater streets being deserted that early, made it so he could get off early enough to go be with Marisol.

The location shoot in the Vaudeville continued the next morning and then shifted to the prison. The second time in the bar focused on the Rancid character meeting the Maggie character, played by Jeanne, which meant Joseph visited the bar and reacquainted himself with the actress, coming to Minnesota from LA for the part.

Jeanne stayed at Frances’s along with the crew of the film, Chrissy actually catering for them, so Joseph visited her there, one of the few former convicts who did. Pete, the actor playing the younger Rancid stayed there too as did the guy who played the homosexual who gets AIDS, later in the shoot and at the same time, and they actually shared a bed. But most were put up in a motel a couple miles outside Stillwater. Joseph, vouched for by Harry, ended up the one staying there while Jeanne, whose part had ended, stayed with him. Afterwards she stayed at Joseph’s place, but only for a couple months before her alcoholism and Joseph’s daughter conspired to have her leave.

It wasn’t long after Harry wrapped his part in the picture based on his life, Pete finishing things as Rancid, that he started to become conspicuous. The first part of the two episodes of the hugely popular series that featured him as villain came out, and a week later, on Black Friday, his novel was released as well as the second episode. And he, yet again, headed to New York, this time accompanied by Marisol who had the four day weekend off because of Thanksgiving.

“And I thought we’d hardly see each other,” Connie grinned when she greeted them at the Brooklyn brownstone apartment in which she and her family lived. He and Marisol had been invited to Thanksgiving dinner and had taken an early flight to get there on time. For the first time he met the petite, attractive blond couple that had given birth to Connie, and they even provided a guest room, Connie’s brother’s old room, in which they could stay.

“What a beautiful place,” said Marisol.

“It’s been in my family for a while, or my adopted family,” Bobbie, from Roberta, explained. “Generations of caretakers, and when Brian moved in with me, he took over caretaking while attending the school where he now teaches. My folks were already pretty old when they adopted me and retired to Florida as all good Jewish couples do. Connie and her brother grew up learning to fix things.”

The apartment was on the first floor and took over at least a quarter of the building. The walls had paintings by Connie on them, along with photos done by Brian, an amateur although quite good photographer, and the knickknacks were ceramics that Bobbie had done.

Connie’s brother and his girlfriend, the Puerto Rican woman Harry had met at the club where Connie’s brother played, also joined them for Thanksgiving dinner. He’d moved out, but only moved a few floor up in the same building. “Had a bit of inside knowledge,” he explained. “The apartments don’t open up all that often.”

“And we managed to keep the rent control prices,” Bobbie added. “Of course it helps that we’re part owners of the building.”

“Bobbie’s adopted uncle owns most of it,” Brian explained, “But it’s really a family property, and when Bobbie’s folks died, she inherited a minority part of the real estate.”

“As well as the warehouse building that houses my studio which I share with Connie,” Bobbie added.

Everyone enjoyed the turkey and fixings, which had been a shared thing with Connie and her family all chipping in cooking. They kicked back in the living room, digesting the plentiful food, Connie sitting between Harry and Marisol as they watched It’s a Wonderful Life on a large flat screen television.

After everyone except the parents helped clean up and put the leftovers away, Connie and her two guests decided to take a walk.

“It wasn’t always safe here,” Connie explained. “Not these blocks specifically, but it’s not far to less well off communities, but its like a gentrifying virus that spread around, so much farther away now for the more desperate people to impinge on the more wealthy. Kind of like the East Village, or the alphabets where that club was.”

“Being on the first floor,” Harry nodded.

“Thus the wrought iron covering all the windows,” Connie said. “Now there’s cafes and hip bars and chef run restaurants. Of course all are closed today.” She whipped out a joint which they smoked.

“How’s the printing going?” Harry asked.

“Really great! The book should be ready just after New Year’s.”

“Coinciding with your show?”

“Yep. And I’ve already sold some works there.”

“You had a couple collages and a sculpture at my show,” Harry remembered.

“The collages sold and were replaced and one of those sold as well. The sculpture finally just sold and has been replaced too just yesterday. Thanks Harry.”

“Glad it worked out,” Harry grinned.

“Maddie’s such a sweetheart.”

“She is.”

“And Franz is a genius.”

“I envy you working with him,” Harry said.

“I guess you didn’t give him much to do,” Connie chuckled.

“Nope, but what he did was brilliant. Just the paper he chose and the font.”

“So tell me about yourself, Marisol,” Connie asked.

“I’m learning to be an actor at the University of Minnesota thanks to Harry, and working my butt off in other classes.”

“More honing your craft,” Harry countered. “You were really good in that small part.”

“Thanks. That was actually the first time I acted in front of an audience, and I must have channeled my inner Harry, because I wasn’t even all that nervous. And speaking of inner Harry...”

“Me too,” Connie laughed.

“Anticipation,” Harry declared.

“Speaking of which...?” Marisol asked.

“My parents are cool with it,” Connie told them. “They know about my bisexuality. My brother has the bigger bed.”

“Great!” Marisol reacted.

“I’m looking forward to exploring you as well,” Connie giggled.

“What do they think about me being your dad’s age?” Harry asked.

“Surprised?”

“Not the first time,” Marisol remembered.

“In a good way actually. I told them all about you, but they did see that exhibit of your erotic drawings.”

“With you included,” Harry realized.

“That was weird for them,” Connie laughed. “But it didn’t bother me because I look so fucking hot! The thing is, they figured you were some dirty old man.”

“Can’t blame them with the array of females, including young ones like Marisol.”

“Susie?” Marisol asked.

“Too dangerous,” Harry said. “She looks her age too much.”

“Coltish,” Marisol nodded.

“I think she was disappointed and showed people her drawing,” Connie laughed. “She’s a trip.”

“One of my favorite people,” Marisol agreed.

“Have you...?”

“No. She’s got a girlfriend. The daughter of the older woman Harry drew in the pastoral setting.”

“I remember,” said Connie.

“Her favorite trysting spot,” Harry chuckled. “The only lover who’s married, at least to other people. Her husband is a piece of work, essentially gay, but gives shit about his daughter being lesbian.”

“A hypocrite,” Connie agreed.

“Among other things. So your folks?”

“I asked them to reserve judgement,” Connie said.

“Which is impossible,” Harry pointed out.

“True, thus their surprise when you didn’t look like their vision of a dirty old man. In fact I think my mother might even have a crush on you.”

“You guys watched my show?” Harry asked.

“Which didn’t help, you being a sociopathic Svengali.”

“I suppose not,” Harry chuckled.

“They did agree that Jenny was hot when I pointed her out.”

“Stating the obvious,” Marisol agreed.

“I think you’re just as hot or maybe hotter,” Connie insisted.

“Thanks, and you’re cute as shit.”

Everyone laughed.

“So you’re an actress,” Connie returned to an earlier conversation.

“Working on it. It’s weird that the other actors in my class all have so much more experience than me, a lot of them divas or the male stars in their high school. I never acted in high school, mostly because my father wanted to keep me close to home, worried I’d be a slut or something, little did he know.”

“What do you mean?” Connie asked.

Marisol looked to Harry who nodded. “I grew up and worked as a maid for Walter Cummings.”

“The rock star?” Connie asked.

“Yep. Long story, but Walter essentially hired my folks to be the live in help. Their place has a cabin set off behind their house where old friends stay when they’re in town, and I mean old, most as old as Walter. When I got older, I’d seduce them. They included Frances’s husband Tom.”

“Tom Whalen?”

“Yep. His last time through he was on a drinking binge, couldn’t get it up, and Harry visited and I was horny and...”

“I get the picture.”

“Yep. Best sex I had by far. Harry was working on the novel he just published and the screenplay and he showed me this Indian woman who’d been killed by a john thinking it looked like me, and I could see somewhat of a resemblance and the whole plan started, me taking the role of the Indian prostitute. So like I was saying, my fellow students all have experience, but I had one advantage, or two actually. I had Harry’s sister work with me, and then Harry. She’s good, but Harry’s better. The whole inner Harry thing, not getting nervous so much, that really is Harry.”

“Let’s head back,” said Connie. “I’m yearning for that inner Harry as well.”

Which she got as almost a quickie, after Harry licked her to near cumming and entered her so that the swiftness that tight pussy caused bringing forth his first orgasm happened concurrently with Connie’s orgasm.

After that it was about Connie exploring Marisol’s body while Harry sucked the beautiful Indian woman’s quim, replaced by Connie after Marisol’s first orgasm. The women reconfigured in a sixty-nine with Marisol on top so that Harry could fuck her from behind. A couple of orgasms later for Marisol, Harry pulled out, gloved up and fucked Connie again, this time lasting a bit longer.

They rested and fell asleep only to have Harry being woken by Connie sucking him, him pulling her over his mouth to suck her, then gloved up, she rode him, Harry guiding her to an angle so that he didn’t go too deep.

By then Marisol had also awakened. She headed to the bathroom in order to freshen things up for Harry lapping at her cunt, which he did, the two ladies above helping each other with kisses and caresses. After cumming on his cock, and Harry still had a ways to go, Connie hopped off, removed the condom and she and Marisol shared the work of getting Harry off with their mouths. Connie ended up doing all the swallowing since Marisol was distracted by a powerful orgasm. Connie left them to cleanse her pallet before nestling in front of Marisol who in turn was spooned by Harry.

The next day they stopped at Maddie’s gallery where Maddie cut Harry a check for the latest sales and Harry signed some more of his books for gallery patrons. Marisol did what others had done, getting photographed beside her drawing. There were copies of that particular drawing and she signed them too for the customers who bought it. The two left Connie to work with Franz, each giving her a kiss. She’d meet them later for Harry’s reading.

Gavin and Harry’s publisher had conspired to heavily advertise Harry’s book in the New York Times Review of Books, the New York Review and other major newspapers, both dailies and weeklies, around the country. They also conspired for him to tour, reading at various independent bookstores, beginning with the Strand in Manhattan.

He and Marisol arrived early, both shopping in the store for a while before he sat and began autographing his book, sometimes for patrons there and others for later. Marisol kept shopping, bought some books and let Harry hold onto them so that she could explore the nearby Greenwich Village. She ended up returning to Maddie’s gallery and Connie decided to quit for the day to give Marisol a tour of the area. By the time they met Harry at the bookstore, they’d bought him a Subway sandwich and he took a break, walking to Union Square and eating the sandwich with the two ladies beside him. It was cool out, but comfortable.

They walked around for a bit, wasting time before his scheduled reading, Connie again being tour guide. They even walked past Irving Plaza, reminding Harry about Fia, thinking maybe her tour had ended. He called her.

“Harry!”

“Hi! You in New York by any chance?”

“For another week. We’re recording at Electric Lady.”

“Cool.”

“Are you?”

“In New York? My book’s coming out today. I have a reading at the Strand.”

“That’s close!”

“You at the studio?”

“Took a break for your guys’ Thanksgiving but we’re back at it. Just finished though for the week. Should I meet you at the bookstore?”

“I’m actually standing in front of Irving Plaza which reminded me of you.”

“We finished the tour at BAM. You heard of it?”

“Brooklyn Academy of Music.”

“The same. A grand finale. Very cool. My sister’s boyfriend got us booked at Electric Lady, which is shyte.”

“I heard it’s pretty amazing.”

“The studio is, but he isn’t. Thinks he can produce us. Wants us to sound like his band!”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. I’ve argued til I turned fucking blue, but my sister’s convinced he’s a fucking genius or some shyte. They don’t listen I may have to quit. I ain’t gonna get behind some soft version of us.”

“You should tell him that.”

“Or I could just grin and bear it. It’s just another week. He thinks us soft peddled will get us sales. Maybe he’s right.”

“I think you’re twice the band his is, but that’s just me. If his band sells, if that what it takes to be popular ... It makes me feel like an old fuddy duddy wishing for the good old days.”

“Then I am too,” she sighed. “Cheer me up?”

“Unfortunately...” Harry stopped, seeing Connie signaling for him to hand her the phone. “Just a second.” He handed it to her.

After smiling with the greeting, Connie gave directions to Fia to where they were headed which was Grammercy Park, an old gated park with ornate homes surrounding it. She headed to a hotel. “It’s probably fucking expensive,” she said.

“I guess I’m kind of rich,” Harry laughed. He strolled in with Marisol and booked a room through Sunday that he made sure had a king sized bed. It was fucking expensive and he could see why when the middle aged bellhop led them up to it. The room was almost ridiculously ornate in its furnishing. He tipped the bellhop fifty dollars and asked, “This place have a problem with how many guests I bring up here?”

“Are you talking about a party?” the man frowned despite the generous tip.

“He means he has two other girlfriends,” said Marisol.

“Perhaps you could upgrade to a suite?” the bellhop offered.

“I guess I’m asking if you’ll have an issue,” Harry clarified. “One bed is plenty.”

“You mean you...”

“Share each other and Harry,” Marisol said.

“My wife is more than enough,” the man laughed.

Harry handed him a hundred. “Split it with the desk clerk?”

“It would probably be too much trouble, but thanks. I’ll make sure there’s no issue.”

“I appreciate that. Would you guide a cute blonde and a lovely redhead up here?”

“I will.”

When he left, Marisol asked, “How much time do we have?”

“About an hour,” Harry answered, looking at his smartphone.

She immediately embraced him and kissed him and they fell onto the king sized bed with the fancy cover, her on top. A few minutes later she got up and opened the door, responding to the knock.

Fia immediately stripped, Harry joining her in the endeavor and Marisol pulled back the covers to reveal the fancy sheets beneath. Fia laid back and Harry brought his mouth where she wanted it. “Sit on his face,” Marisol decided, undressing and once reconfigured, she sank down on his cock. The two ladies atop him got to know each other at least physically, helping add to the pleasure he provided. When Marisol came on his cock, she relinquished it, a naked Connie ready with the condom and she sat on Harry’s face while Fia impaled herself on his cock, and already primed, came a couple minutes later.

More reconfiguring, Fia turning around to reverse cowgirl, Harry carefully shifting things to pull her farther up the bed and fucking her doggy style, and Connie bringing her pussy to Fia’s mouth. Marisol played amongst the three, kissing and caressing until somehow Harry managed a shifting on the bed into a diagonal and Marisol sat on Connie’s mouth and helped with her pussy since Fia had become distracted from the multiple orgasms she experienced from Harry’s fucking.

When he finally had his orgasm, he pulled out, went to the bathroom, flushed down the condom with his piss and started up the shower. Fia joined him, letting Connie and Marisol continue their sixty-nine.

The two kissed under the shower water. “Thanks for that,” she smiled.

“Always,” he smiled back. “But I’m concerned for you. Maybe try my shit and giggles method.”

“What’s that?”

“Let that asshole give up control for a couple songs. Maybe he’ll figure out what’s better.”

“I doubt it, but I could still threaten leaving if he doesn’t at least give me something.”

“What do you think would happen if you actually did?”

“He’d probably just record my sister, maybe double her voice, and she’d probably go with it.”

“But it’s your songs.”

“True, although we had to suffer through one of his.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

They kissed again just for her to feel better.

Him too, because he was thinking about kicking the shit out of the asshole. He’d known of bands who slicked things up only to suffer for it, and not just the shitty songs, but sales as well.

They settled into cleaning each other’s bodies, enjoying the sensuousness, before stepping out and drying themselves, relinquishing the shower to Marisol and Connie.

They paraded past an amused bellboy and an amused desk clerk who nodded at Harry.

Harry arrived a few minutes early to the reading, seats already filling up. A glass of water awaited him beside the lectern and he drank half of it before grabbing the book and opening it to the bookmarked page, the one about Nathaniel meeting the Indian prostitute. He read through the pages he’d be reading before standing at the lectern and beginning. He finished reading to his audience when she led her murderer to her room.

After significant applause, he said, “You’ve just witnessed my first reading, so I hope I did okay. So ... uhm ... am I supposed to ask for questions?”

“If you want,” he heard from the back, the lady who’d been in charge of the reading. “I did have the audience write down questions.”

“Oh okay. No don’t collect them.” He switched off the microphone and pulled it from its stand and walked around the lectern. Turning it back on, he suggested, “Just lift the card up or whatever it is.”

He moved to the back and handed the mic to a gentleman. The man asked, “Is this really your first published novel?”

“My first published writing,” Harry answered. “Except a book of drawings I did when I was incarcerated at Stillwater State Prison, not all that far from where the whorehouse was.”

A couple rows up, a young woman asked, “Is this really based on a true story?”

“The vad du vill did exist, and whatever names I could find I used. But it is a novel. I obviously don’t have their words or their thoughts, just the events really, the basic structure and I filled out the bricks and mortar with my imagination. That said, I did find some amazing journals stashed at the place that the vad du vill had been, which is now the Vaudeville Bar, still in Stillwater and owned by an ancestor of the original owners, so I did get some sense of who these characters might be.”

Another audience member towards the front asked, “I guess this has sort of been asked, but you have seemed to have emerged fully formed like Athena from Zeus’s head.”

“I was guest of the state of Minnesota,” Harry answered, “for twenty-five years. Would I have been a novelist all that time? I don’t know. I suppose I could have written there, but mostly I drew and wrote little studies of my fellow inmates. Maybe it took that long to mature. But what happened was those drawings and notes became a screenplay written by my brother in law, and when I got out I worked with him on it, and it went well and he suggested maybe I could be a writer. When I asked what I might write, since what I was writing was about my life basically and he suggested pretty much whatever I might bump into. I bumped into Whatever You Want because my girlfriend, now my wife, actually owns the Vaudeville and I found this stash of journals and other things and it went from there.

“But as far as fully formed, I don’t know. Part of it I’m sure is all the reading I did in prison. Other writers taught me to write. Then the research inspired me. But a lot of it is just mindfulness I think, taking what I have and trusting my mind to execute it while paying close attention, concentrating, not flaking out I suppose. When I write it’s everything, nothing else exists. I’d probably write practically forever or my brain no longer functions but most of the time I get a tap on my shoulder reminding me its bed time or time to eat. Sorry. Long answer.”