Mojo - 5. Chapter 5: I Left My (Dignity) in Avalon

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Chapter 5: I Left My (Dignity) in Avalon

That boozy, bebop, swing-it-to-the-rafters Nat King Cole hit kept coursing through my head. My foot tapped infectiously to the beat as I gazed across the open waters, allowing the melody in my mind to meld with the gentle swells of the Pacific Ocean.[1]

We were on Lloyd’s palatial yacht, sailing over crystal blue waves off the coast of Santa Catalina Island’s iconic marina, Avalon. Our captain steered us with a steady hand several decks above, behind the dark glass of the bridge, with its radar and GPS thingies slowly rotating on top.

The distance to shore was only a mile or so, allowing us a perfect view from the right side of the boat – or starbuck, I think it’s called. We could see that massive white rotunda built nearly a hundred years ago to host all the topnotch entertaining for this retreat of the rich, a mere 22 miles off the coast of Southern California. The Casino stood at the end of its own peninsula, while gradually curving away from it to the left, countless masts of sailboats swayed gently like a living pine forest. Beneath them, as if grazing sheep, the lumbering white masses of pleasure craft fanned out in all directions in the safe shelter of the bay. Cradling arms of green hills, sloping down to a wide ribbon of public beach, had Spanish Revival houses climbing up them. It was all indescribably enchanting in the summer sun.[2]

“Why aren’t we heading into port?” Gordon suddenly asked Trọng.

“Silly!” he exclaimed. “Lloyd’s yacht is much too big to fit in Avalon’s harbor – it’s as big as what the poor people have to use: the Catalina Ferry. No, our captain has his own private cove, just the other side of Church Rock, on the southwest corner of the island.”

“And I bet it offers exciting views of the sunset.”

Trọng liked my statement: showed it in a sultry leer.

“Yes, Kohl. Very good. Plus, his protected pier leads straight up to his mansion. It’s lovely. Gordon, you’ll love to be pampered there as I do.”

“Well, lunch was delicious, if that’s any indication of the spoiling we have in store.”

And my boyfriend was right. About an hour ago, while we were still on the open water between here and Laguna Beach, we sat down to a sumptuous spread on the rear deck: Maine lobster, little neck clams, and steamed corn on the cob with seaweed. It was all good, except the seaweed, which we were not intended to munch on anyway.

“It is!” enthused Trọng all over again. “Lloyd is a man of fine tastes. He knows what he wants”—those cinnamon-brown peepers locked fearlessly with mine—“and goes after it, just as I do.”

The Vietnamese guy leaned back on the railing after lowering his shades from the crown of his Velcro haircut. With elbows propped like that, he licked his lips wantonly in my direction. “Give you any ideas, sailor?”

My boyfriend laughed.

˚˚˚˚˚

Shouldering both a backpack and Gordon’s gym bag, I felt my feet transition from the smooth boards of Lloyd’s private dock to the lush lawn before his ‘house.’

It was enough to make Tiberius – peeking down from his hilltop fortress on the Isle of Capri – contract a bad case of villa-envy, for a glimmering mansion in white stone had every window shaded in striped awnings, rustling indolently in the breeze. It fronted the water for a thousand feet or more, surrounded by terraces stepping up to it with Mediterranean ornaments and plantings. Blossoms were everywhere.

Behind the red roof tiles, rolling hills shone verdant with native shrubs, wildflowers and stands of wafting trees.

Lloyd and Trọng caught up and led us towards a beautiful woman with long dark hair. She stood in a vibrant summer dress, near a bougainvillea-encrusted obelisk, and maintained a bland smile with hands folded dutifully over her modesty zone. From this distance she almost seemed like an ornament of the place, say a modern knockoff of a Venus statue found in the Vatican museum gift shop.

But arriving next to her side, I revised my opinion and took her to be some manner of servant – but then Lloyd kissed her.

The strong man’s voice crackled with a bit of uncertainty as he announced: “I must have the pleasure of introducing – Doris – my….”

Trọng filled in the information gap with a wry grin. “His wife.”

“…Wife…?” slipped from between my lips. Gordon elbowed me back to decent manners, and I held out my hand. “Oh, yes. It’s nice to meet you.”

The woman’s grip was firm and dry. Even first impressions conveyed Doris was no dye-bottle brunette with ditz for brains. Possessing soulful eyes, perfect posture and poise, and beauty of both face and composure, she brought an almost glove-like fit to Lloyd’s physical appearance, only in an undeniably feminine form.

“This is Kohl,” informed her husband, “and his boyfriend Gordon.”

She shook hands with Gordon as well. “A pleasure, gentlemen. Welcome.”

Trọng quipped under his breath: “Yes, a pleasure to see me as well, I’m sure.”

Doris righted her head; a halfway convincing grin spread like an algae bloom. “Trọng – darling – mi casa es su casa.” Lloyd’s wife leaned over and loudly Hollywood-kissed the man’s boyfriend on both cheeks.

Just before I exchanged amazed looks with my Gordon, I noticed the expression on our host’s face. If I had to characterize it, I’d say it was one of settled pride: perhaps self-congratulatory on the concord of good will on display, sham as it might have been.

Trọng pulled away gracefully, ungallantly murmuring: “Mi casa – you got that right.”

Venom shot from the woman’s eyes, but Lloyd stepped in. Before I could regroup my thoughts about there actually being ‘a wife’ tossed into our holiday mix, I felt our host lift the weight of the luggage from my shoulder.

“Why don’t you,” said Lloyd to Doris, “show Kohl the nature preserve behind the property, dear? In the meantime, I’ll be helping Gordon unpack and settle in.”

This ludicrous proposal had not been presented in the form of a question, so even though my jealousy flared mightily seeing Lloyd’s hand resting on my boy’s back, neither me nor ‘the wife’ had any say in the matter.

Contemplating letting this woman take me away, knowing Lloyd had intentions of leading Gordon astray, gave birth to a stratagem. If I played my cards just right, I could make my boyfriend jealous of Doris.

“Well,” I sang out. “I’d be delighted to have a tour conducted by such a beautiful woman.” I picked up and kissed the back of her hand; she flushed.

“He’s continental,” Trọng informed her with a sturdy dash of sarcasm.

“Yeah, he is,” muttered Gordon as Lloyd began guiding him towards the house. Had there been a wisp of wistfulness in his tone…?

I laced arms with Doris so that my boy could see, and chuckled intimately: “Lead the way, lovely lady."

˚˚˚˚˚

The trail was narrow, dusty and hot. The thick foliage – all of the dark, dark-green variety accustomed to semi-arid conditions – penned us in and kept the cool sea breeze at bay.

An opening appeared, and me and Doris stopped to admire the house, yacht and Pacific Ocean hundreds of feet below, and maybe a half-mile in front of us.

“Funny,” Lloyd’s wife said suddenly.

“What is?”

“Listen.”

I did; there was nothing to hear.

She smiled, revealing great intrigue. “See? Back East, a wooded thicket like this would be alive with birdsong, but out here, at the margin of the continent, everything is still.”

I couldn’t help but like this woman. She had poetic thoughts, and I admire that in all people.

“How long have you—” I halted myself, thinking better of what I wanted to ask.

“Lived here?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Lloyd picked up this place three years ago. It was built by one of L.A.’s water barons about a century previous, long before Catalina became a state park.”

“A water baron…?”

“Yes. Back in the day, money was pouring into Los Angeles – mainly from offshore oil drilling – but the town could only grow as fast as drinkable water was discovered, which was slow because of all the benzene polluting the wells. A consortium got together, built hundreds of miles of pipeline and tunnels to divert the Colorado River straight to a thirsty tinsel town. There were millions in old money to be made – trillions today.”

“Fascinating.”

She gestured with elegant flare, and we continued to walk.

“Lloyd had to spend many millions too to get this place – had to pull in some political favors as well – but it’s a sound method to process some of his cash.”

‘Process,’ I thought. ‘Yeah, like the French Connection laundry.’

She picked up on my silence with a smile and shrug. “Nowadays, the region’s thirst for water is quenched, but Lloyd and his business partners south of the border are the lords of slaking a different thirst – one that seems as insatiable as dehydration in shriveled men.”

“And more profitable, apparently.”

She smiled at my attempted witticism, but quite frankly, the woman’s obvious scorn for her man was palpable; it seemed like an infinitely dense black hole she carried around in the core of her being, and it reached out to draw me in.

The leaves overhead unexpectedly stirred into motion, acted upon by an errant sea breeze, and I found my hostess’ moroseness blent with the inhospitable environment to form an unbidden snippet of verse. I recited it out loud, glancing up at the brooding leaves and spots of blinding sunshine; it appeared we were moving farther away from any signs of civilization.

“Cruel stepmother,

As heartless as the sea,

Nature seeks no embrace

From her children – man –

But only a jealous wish

That we not rise up and

Challenge her authority to seed.”

“That is beautiful. Beautiful and desolate, Kohl.”

“Yeah.” I had to agree with so obviously wise an opinion, but then she startled the hell out of me by slipping her fingers into mine and kissing me.

After she removed her tongue from my mouth, I mentioned with a little too much volume, “But I’m Gay!”

Her expression dappled as she cocked her head with a smirk. “So? So is my husband.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask—”

“No words, Kohl. Let’s not spoil the moment with words, okay…?”

Another ‘not a question,’ her grip on my hand tightened and she took me off trail.

In another minute or two, she’d found a sturdy Aleppo pine to prop me against and began to unbutton my jeans. In response, I leaned my head against the bark and concentrated on getting hard. The leaves twittered overhead like they were enjoying an inside joke; the breeze licked my member a moment after Doris took it out. My hands landed within her hair as the doubtlessly beautiful woman sank to her knees.

I closed my eyes and thought of Prussia. But as images of Königsberg Castle, the Brandenburg Gate and KDV department store did nothing for me, I tried to think sexier thoughts. And then, an odd set of impressions – visions really – filtered down on my brain like dappled starlight.

The pleasure built down below and I saw Gordon’s smile. It made me stiffen all the harder and grin in my darkness too. There’s no doubt how much I loved my beautiful boy.

This lovely meditation was interrupted by a frightful sound. At first indistinct, I clenched my eyes tighter and pivoted my head against the tree as if trying to bring the phantom tone into better clarity. All at once it burst onto my consciousness – the horrendous screech of that donkey in the L.A. sex club. It caused a painful queasiness in the pit of my stomach and I forced it away by will.

In another moment, Doris’ skill had re-asserted itself and I saw her sexy face before my mind’s eye. It sent a thrill along my spine to know those were the lips servicing my flaring cock right now.

As I inched closer to climax, I imagined I was pleasuring my boy in the most intimate way possible. Stroke for stroke, watching him writhe under me in pleasure, and then being vaguely aware of Assauer’s laugh and the biting sting of his wet towel on my exposed ass cheeks.

Just as I was on the verge of giving Doris what she wanted – gripping the woman’s head deep down on my dick – I got a weird, sickening whiff of something fetid and natural in the extreme. This was followed by the image of a maniacal looking man with curly locks and pointy ears. The expression on his face was full of loathing, and it appeared like he were the one about to hate-cum on me.

I opened my eyes, sunlight searing my pupils, and the goaty smell lingered as I ejaculated over and over again into Doris’ receptive wetness. I did so, but helplessly let go of the woman’s hair while trying to drive the nature spirit’s intense visage out of my head.

˚˚˚˚˚

‘Same old bullshit,’ I thought as I surveyed the scene. ‘Drinks and dinner with someone or other going over my boyfriend as if he’s an empty house to move into and plant a SOLD sign in front of. Makes me sick.’

And so it did; I felt bleak and alone despite the crowded and grand setting, sitting across a spacious round table from them and watching Lloyd’s partner ply Gordon with ogling attention.

I gazed around the room to distract myself. The Casino – the massive round landmark defining Avalon’s harbor – resembled some oddly large concrete water tank at its base, but several stories up, a loggia looking like it was lifted from the Doge’s Palace in Venice, wrapped itself around a domed ballroom of mesmerizingly perfect proportions.

That’s where we were now, having a lavish candlelight supper, per Doris’ suggestion, in the storied restaurant at the top of the structure. A band cranked out some old standards, and more noise coming from the soft-soled shuffling of feet on the circular dancefloor joined the music. Our table was just one of many near the open doors and fresh sea breeze coming in from the wrap-around terrace.

My eyes followed the shallow ribs of the dome up to the rather Classical-looking oculus. Here an Art Deco grille supported five lighting fixtures of Lalique-esque crystals.[3]

Lloyd leaned against my right side and asked in a deep tone: “Like it here?”

My gaze momentarily alighted on his wife’s retiring stare – as she was sitting opposite me – before turning to the handsome sea captain.

“It’s unique. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyplace quite like this before.”

My response made Lloyd smile warmly, and I might add it appeared he would have taken my hand if we weren’t under such close scrutiny at the moment – from his wife and partner.

‘It’s all bullshit.’ I thought. ‘Guess he’s done with Gordon already and sent him back to Trọng’s clutches to slock my green-eyed gremlin with water.’

While I fumed, the band music reasserted itself; Gordon laughed at one of Trọng’s stupid jokes; Doris’ eyes were on mine again, and I wondered if I looked as miserable as she felt.

Trọng burst out: “Lloyd’s wife has such good taste. She suggested your first night on Catalina be spent here, and who can argue with a woman of quality?”

Doris leaned over and endowed a husky fake smile on her Vietnamese rival. “Some foolish few, I suppose.”

Lloyd laughed, and we all wound up gawking at him; he explained nothing.

Trọng continued, his accent growing more pronounced as a vindictive edge crept into it. “Being a good hostess is all right, as far as it goes. I suppose compensation can come in many forms—”

“So, Kohl,” interrupted the man of the sea, “what did you think of the nature trail behind the house?”

“We had a very nice time,” Doris said plainly.

“Oh, I bet.” Trọng planted fascinated elbows on the table, chin in palms, and batted cow-lashes at me. “See much of the view?”

‘Gott im Himmel,’ I thought, but actually said: “Unbeatable, and our hostess falls into the same category.”

Gordon seemed to swallow those words wrong.

“Oh!” exclaimed Lloyd’s partner. “Reminds me of another woodland adventure. Involves one wolf”—his glare landed on Doris—“and three little naïve piggies.” Trọng’s glance rounded the table with calculating ease from me, to Gordon, and then settled on Lloyd. “’I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down,’ she said.”

Lloyd was the only one to laugh. “I think, dear Trọng, you have your old Disney cartoons mixed up.”

He sat back, triumphant. “Maybe I do; maybe I don’t.”

“But if I remember correctly,” I offered as peacemaker, “the wolf was okay in that one.”

Cold stares greeted me from around the table.

“I mean, he knocked down a couple of shacks with his bad breath, but did not meet any awful fate – no cosmetic justice, if you will.”

“Cosmetic…?” Doris asked.

Gordon instantly chuckled. “He means cosmic justice. Kohl is always mixing up his sayings, at least in English.”

While the rest of them laughed, I flashed a little bit hot inside. Who among us is perfect, after all?

The band’s current song finished. A smattering of applause rewarded their efforts, mainly from the dancing couples. Almost immediately, another one started. Avalon, the song stuck in my head as the Mary Jane glided us past Catalina’s main harbor town.

Doris visibly changed. “Do you know, Kohl and Gordon, this place is very special to me?”

“No,” said my boyfriend.

Lloyd appeared shaken.

“It is,” continued the lovely dark-haired lady. “It’s where my husband and I held our wedding reception. Remember this song, darling?”

“Yes.” The sea captain, a decisive man of action, stood up. He went around to his wife’s side – undeterred by Trọng’s amazement – and held out his hand. “It’s our song, so shall we dance?”

She rose with total command of herself, took hold of his fingers and let herself be led off to the dancefloor.

When I glanced back, Trọng had already taken Gordon’s hand and was chatting with him quietly, as if his heart had not just been broken.

“Excuse me,” I said, standing up. “I need some fresh air.” As I walked to one of the terrace doors, I barely let myself register the hurt look in my boyfriend’s eyes.

The loggia curved away gradually in both directions from the place I had planted myself to brood. Lights bobbed from the harbor vessels and climbed the otherwise dark hills behind town.

I recognized I was feeling very uneasy, but the queasy discomfort in my gut…where exactly was it coming from?

“Kohl?”

I turned.

Gordon slid in next to me. “What’s up with you?”

“Don’t sound so smug—”

“Kohl!”

I instantly relented. “I don’t feel right, Gordon. I’m not myself.”

“Yeah, I sensed that. But don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry about what?!”

“Watch your temper,” he warned.

I nodded and repeated myself very calmly: “Worry about what, honey?”

“Lloyd.”

“Lloyd…?”

My boy rolled his eyes, like it was all so obvious. “Yeah. He never had any interest in me. He’s shoving me and Trọng together to get a rise out of you.”

“You think?” This possibility had not even been on my sonar.

“Hell, yeah. I see his ploy to make you jealous – not a difficult task – and wind up ‘hurting’ me so I go flying into Trọng’s arms, while he sweeps in Zeus-like to scoop you up and out of your pants. It’s all as plain as Ganymede’s little red cap.”

“But still…” I stammered.

“Still, what?”

“You—”

“Kohl…” his tone cautioned again.

“But still you seem to like that Vietnamese guy.” Turned out I couldn’t help myself.

Gordon stood up straight, mad. “Fuck you. Is that all you think of me?”

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm. “I—”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I had….” How could I tell him about a weird vision occurring while Doris blew me in the woods?

“We’ll talk later,” Gordon said, pulling away. “That is If you can see past your jealousy long enough to form a coherent sentence.”

Helplessly, I watched him go back to our table all smiles and jovial gestures. Gordon slid back down next to Trọng once more.

Disgusted with the whole display – and with myself too – I looked out over Avalon again. The music filled my head, allowing my thoughts to climb up into the silent, brooding wilds of Santa Catalina Island.

[1] Nat King Cole, Avalon

[2] Avalon, Catalina Island

Also see here

[3] Avalon’s Casino

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