Mortaumal - 31. Questions, Answers, and a Dinner Invitation

The following morning five somewhat serious teenage girls were waiting outside the Activities office when Mort arrived.

‘Can we talk to you, Mortaumal?’

‘Of course. What about?’

Last night and... and other things.’

‘Come inside.’

‘No. Hercules is in there; can we go to one of the other rooms?’

‘Of course.’ Mort was intrigued. Oasis girls always seemed so self-assured, mature and confident. They sat on chairs in a room used for flower arranging, while Mort perched on the desk.

‘We think you were wonderful last night. I’ve never seen any man dance so beautifully. I cried all night.’

‘So did we,’ chorused the others.

‘Thank you.’

‘Will you be dancing again?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Have you got a girlfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Was the boy you acted, real?’

‘In what way?’

‘He wasn’t interested in the girl until she sort of forced him and seduced him by playing with herself and then making him stiff. And then after you fucked her... that was so exciting I got all wet down here…’ She stopped, embarrassed.

‘How flattering,’ Mort said with a smile. ‘And yes, that sort of thing is real for many males and females.’

‘But we’ve been told at school that boys are always randy and ready to rape women if they aren’t careful. We’re frightened to go into the city.’

‘Not true. The continuation of the human species depends on females choosing a mate who will produce strong babies and then provide for them. This is a heavy responsibility so they spend most of their spare time making themselves attractive and sexy, so if and when a suitable man comes along they can seduce him, as Romola did in the ballet. Young males, on the other hand, spend most of their spare time playing sport and learning skills so they will become strong and fit and able to provide for any baby that might arrive in the future. They certainly think about sex a great deal, but usually relieve the pressure by masturbating, which is essential because it maintains strong blood flows to the penis that are essential for good erections.’

‘So the ballet was about telling us that it’s up to the woman to get the man. It’s no use sitting around waiting for him.’

‘More or less, but it’s also telling women they have to work on arousing their man if they want him to be a good lover.’

Hillary blushed. ‘But what about rapes?’

‘There are always a few people who don’t obey the rules; they steal, drive too fast and so on. If females walk around cities and towns showing their cleavages, thighs, shoulders, in very tight, revealing clothes, most men who are sexually active will understand she is only flirting, not desiring sexual intercourse. But occasionally there will be a man who is not so well balanced, who misunderstands and thinks she is offering herself for sex, and if she forcefully rejects him he might get angry and rape her. That’s why females should be careful about the strength of the sexual signals they send in public places if they want to remain safe.’

‘That makes sense. And in the ballet you entered her from behind. Why?’

‘Presenting her rear end is the easiest and best way for a woman to show a man she wants to have intercourse. There’s no mistaking it. Even from the audience you could see her vulva was swollen like a sign saying fuck me.’

Everyone laughed.

‘Then why do most people do it facing each other?’

‘In the ballet the girl only wanted sex; nothing else. Face to face is intimate and you share kisses and affection and love, and that makes the act wonderful and personal.’

‘Did you enjoy doing it with her?’

‘I enjoyed the whole dance, that was simply part of it.’

‘You’ve got an erection now. Do you fancy us?’

‘No, we’re talking about sexy things. And it likes being admired.’

‘What makes you think we’re admiring it?’

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘I am.’

Laughter, and the tiny cloud of tension that had lingered, lifted.

‘I’ve always wanted to talk like this with boys, but never dared in case they thought I was perverted.’

‘It’s certainly not perverted! Curiosity is a very valuable, natural characteristic.’

‘Do you wax?’

‘No, just born like this.’

‘You said you don’t fancy us, is it because we’re ugly?’

‘No. You’re all good-looking girls. Its because like one in ten males I was born with the same feelings as you when it comes to sexual attraction.’

‘You mean…?’

‘Yes, so if a guy you fancy doesn’t respond to your signals, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, there’s a possibility he might be like me. But if you care for the guy at all, don’t then shout to the entire world that he’s gay; he might not be, and even if he is why run the risk of ruining his life by making him feel insecure? He might simply prefer masturbating.’

‘Do you masturbate?’

‘Of course. It’s very pleasurable, which is why some men prefer it to screwing wives who just lie there and expect him to do everything. If you girls take only one lesson from that dance, it should be that if you want your man to desire you, take pains to arouse him and make him feel desired as well. Sex with another person should be a pas de deux, not a solo performance.’

‘Thanks Mortaumal, I feel much wiser now.’ Her grin was wicked, ‘Can we touch your…?’

‘As long as your hands are clean and you’re gentle.’

As they walked past, the girls gently grasped his erection for a few seconds, then looked up at him and whispered, ‘Thanks.’

He was just about to jerk himself off when four teenage boys trouped in and sat on the chairs. The smallest was grinning. ‘Having a wank, Mortaumal?’

‘I was going to. How can I help, gentlemen?’

‘You were great last night.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Was it real?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do some females really act like that? You know, play with themselves, shove their fingers up their cunts and get all hot and randy and then if they find a guy, also make him randy?’

‘If they don’t, they should.’

‘So they also wank?’

‘Frequently. There are loads of ways they can tickle their fannies. Riding bikes and horses can do it for some girls, and I've heard dildos are very popular.’

‘We thought girls didn’t really like it much because after talking to them for a bit they come over all difficult and we have to tell them they’re the most beautiful girl in the room... all that crap.’

‘That’s a necessary ploy.’

‘How do you mean?”

‘Once they’ve got your attention they don’t want you to think they’re sluts, so they pretend they’ve lost interest. That triggers an evolutionary hunting response in most males to pursue and capture what they thought was theirs for the taking. By proving you really want it by chasing them and cajoling them into it, you convince them you’re serious about them, and not just after a casual fuck that might leave them pregnant with no man to help support the child. Sex can be a very hazardous game for women.’

‘Yeah… that makes sense, but I've never met a girl like Romola in the dance. Neither of the girls I've fiddled with have played with my bits. I had to do all the work.’

‘Lizzie’s like that, starts kissing, but when I get aroused she just lies back and expects me to fiddle with her for hours. She should do it to herself like Romola did last night. All I want to do is shove it in and come, like you did. Fuck it was a turn on to watch you, mate?’

‘Thanks.’

‘I guess you’ve screwed loads of girls.’

‘No. I was like the guy in the dance before I met her. She had to teach me.’

‘You’re a bloody good learner. Was it the best part of the dance?’

‘No. I liked everything else more. Fucking’s just fucking... less interesting than wanking unless you’re in love, I reckon.’

‘It was so funny when you pulled out and your cock shrank to nothing, and then you just looked at it and shrugged and went to sleep. That’s what I want to do, but Lizzie wants me to do it again and tells me I’m useless if I can’t. What’ll I do?’

‘Explain things to her, and dump her if she doesn’t treat you with respect. What about the rest of you?’

‘We’re still virgins.’ The young man grinned sheepishly. ‘I’d never have dared tell you if you hadn’t told us about yourself. I thought there was a law that said we had to screw girls if they asked. But there’s no one I want to do it with. Do you really prefer wanking?’

‘Most men do at your age, and after a few years of marriage, unless they’re still in love. The reason some don’t do it much is religion tells them it’s bad. And that’s a load of crap, its actually very good for you, keeps everything working in top order down there, and even seems to prevent the development of prostate problems when you age. Religions just want more and more kids to fill their churches.’

‘That’s crazy, the planet’s overpopulated now!’

‘Yeah. I’m not going to have any kids.’

‘But what’ll I say when my girlfriend says I must be queer if I don’t want to fuck her?’

‘Say she must be a nymphomaniac if kissing and cuddling isn’t enough at her age.’

‘Is that what you say?’

‘For some reason girls don’t ask me. Perhaps they can tell I’m not interested.’

‘You mean you’re…?’

‘Yes. I was born with the urge to do sexy things with males my own age.’

‘But last night…?’

‘We were acting, and that was part of the act. Simple.’

Silence.

‘Shocked?’

‘No! Not at all. In fact I wish I was gay. Girls seem too complicated.’

‘Yeah, thanks Mortaumal, you’ve made me realise I have the right to choose what sort of sex I want and when. Until now I thought there was only one way—like in the porn videos and if I didn’t want that then I was a retard.’

‘Porn is dangerous. It’s pure fantasy. The world is not like that and humans are not like that. Be yourselves, do only what you feel comfortable doing and you won’t go far wrong.’

They shook hands and departed thoughtfully.

*****

For the next few days Mort was greeted as a hero by young and old, congratulated on his performance and asked if he’d be a permanent fixture in the theatre calendar. And whereas in the first couple of days when he’d asked children and teenagers to do something or not do it, they’d looked at him as if ready to challenge his authority, now their eyes lit up and his wishes became their command.

From time to time Mort had the feeling he was being watched. But when he looked around there was no one paying him more attention than usual. A man in green overalls was sometimes pushing a wheelbarrow, but too far away to make out. He intended to mention it to Hercules, but always forgot about it.

By the end of the week there were two permanent self-defence classes, two groups of joggers, four swimming pupils, three children between the ages of six and eight with reading difficulties, five teenagers practising acrobatics daily, and exercise for ancients. When asked, he guarded the pool, umpired softball, was a sought after partner for the popular afternoon Tea Dances, posed for artists, and accepted any other job that arrived. Hercules was over the moon; he could now enjoy his work instead of always feeling run off his feet and not doing enough.

*****

A week later Calumnia looked up from the television when Mort walked in after a run around the boundary.

‘Don wants you to phone him.’

‘What about?’

‘Ring the old fart and find out! I’m not your secretary.’

‘Where’s Arch?’

‘Working, like a real man, not poncing around flashing his balls at everyone. You’re fucking disgusting standing there stark naked in my house. Go put on some clothes!’ She’d been saying this since he began assisting Hercules, but this time she seemed more venomous than usual.

‘Calumnia, you know I’ve signed a contract to not wear clothes in Oasis.’

‘Who the fuck are you, Mr. Up-himself Mortaumal? You arrive out of nowhere claiming to be my husband’s cousin—as if! And suddenly you’re the naked hero of the place and the chairman of the Body Corp invites you to dinner!’

‘You said you didn’t know what Don wanted.’

‘I said ask him yourself! Well... answer me... who the fuck are you Mr. Flavour of the Month? What hold have you over my husband? If you think you’re going to weasel yourself in and do me out of what’s rightfully mine, think again.’

'Okay, I will.’ Mort nodded, smiled, went to Arch’s office, found the number, and rang. ‘Don? It’s Mortaumal.’

‘Mortaumal! Thanks for ringing. Great performance the other night. I’ve a job for you, nothing to do with Oasis, so you’ll get paid separately. I’m a senior partner in a legal firm and am hoping to get the business of a fabulously wealthy woman who used to be a stripper and now owns a string of brothels, peep shows, strip clubs and porn shops along the entire eastern seaboard. She’s hesitating because she thinks we’re opposed to the way she makes her money.’ He paused as if unsure how to continue.

‘I’ve got that part; what’s my job?’

‘Convince her we’re true freethinkers when it comes to her occupation and that we’ll treat her affairs with our customary diligence.’

‘How?’

‘How what?’

‘How do you expect me to convince her?’

‘My business partner, who is not a resident of Oasis, and I will be in dinner suits, our wives will be looking like Christmas trees, and you will there to make up numbers and balance the sexes.’

‘Wearing?’

‘Your Oasis uniform. Very clean skin and well brushed hair.’

‘And that will prove you’re open minded free thinkers?’

‘We hope so.’

‘Hercules would be better.’

‘Hercules refused; he doesn’t approve of the woman. Not because of her business, but personally—he’s had dealings with her apparently.’

‘I’m only seventeen, for goodness sake. How old is your Madam?’

‘Mid sixties.’

‘I’m not a toy boy!’

‘Of course not! What do you think of me?’

‘That you’d do just about anything to get her account.’

‘Anything legal—we’re lawyers. Pimping for pretty young men is illegal.’

‘That’s a relief. How much are you paying?’

‘Two hundred and fifty if we lose, five hundred if we win.’

‘Sounds fun. What time?’

‘Six-thirty.’

‘Excellent. I’ll be there.’

‘But tell no one about it!’

‘Sealed lips are my most marketable talent.’

*****

Dinner suits made clones of Don and his business partner, who looked irritably nervous as well as dull. Both wives had succeeded in outshining the setting sun with brightly coloured silks and twinkling jewellery on fingers, wrists, necks and ears. Don’s wife, Jane, eclipsed her rival with a flashy tiara that looked as if it had been pilfered from a cheap chandelier.

‘Mortaumal, This is Sly Littigayte and his wife, Avariss.’

Mort offered his hand but they stared at it in alarm, so he shrugged and withdrew.

‘Mortaumal is assistant Activities Director on the estate, an invaluable addition to the staff.’

‘Don! If this goes belly up we’re ruined. A naked young man, no matter how attractive, is not going to influence a hardened old whore like Procura Tahrt. She’ll eat him for dinner.’

‘Trust me, there’s more to this young man that meets the eye.’

Both women giggled. ‘There’s certainly nothing visible left to the imagination.’

‘I have guts, ladies,’ Mort said softly, and didn’t smile.

‘Oh, very droll,’ Sly sneered. ‘Just don’t make things worse, young man. You’re only here to prove we are broad minded with no objection to the way the woman earns her money.’

‘So you’re in favour of strip shows and prostitution?’

‘Other people’s perversions are not of interest to us.’

‘Perversions? Surely if so many people enjoy such things they must be considered a normal expression of human sexuality? In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if your views were in the minority, which would make you perverted—according to your logic.’

‘How dare you sp…’

‘Mortaumal,’ Don interrupted placidly, ‘Procura Tahrt has a formidable reputation in negotiations. She terrifies all who meet her. So it would be best to let us do the talking.’

‘Yes,’ Sly agreed. ‘Just sit there like a pretty ornament.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The front door bell rang. Don scurried to open it and returned with a slim and sprightly woman in her sixties with curly grey hair, no visible makeup, wearing what the French call a little black number. Simple yet elegant and suitable for all occasions. It flattered her figure, while stylish black medium-heeled shoes flattered her slim ankles. Two substantial silver bangles on her right wrist, small silver studs in her ears and an understated silver chain at her throat, were decoration enough for this paragon of ageless sophistication.

The men looked stunned, the women furious. Mort grinned, caught Procura’s eye and winked. She winked back.

Don woke from his trance and made the introductions. Procura was gracious, her voice low and intimate. Drinks were served out on the verandah; alcohol for the lawyers and their wives, soda water for the naked young man and the Madam.

‘You managed to find Oasis?’

‘Yes.’

Silence

‘It’s good you can still drive.’

‘I’m sixty-two, not ninety-two.’

Don coughed. ‘Do you live permanently in the north?’

‘No.’ Procura leaned over the balustrade. ‘I’d like to stretch my legs in the garden.’

Don moved to assist her but she took Mort’s elbow, led him down the steps and into the garden, out of sight of their hosts.

‘What would you say if I said, Perdita?’

‘Heartless.’

‘About seventeen years ago a sixteen year-old girl to whom you have a remarkable resemblance, landed on my doorstep with a tale about a baby she’d left somewhere. I didn’t believe her, as there was no evidence of any such thing. She didn’t even have tits! But she was a great worker; could service two football teams in an afternoon, leaving them all happy. Despite her character I quite liked her, but after four years I had to get rid of her because…’

‘She was blackmailing the clients.’

‘You do know her. But I should have been more understanding and not sent her packing. It’s one of my few regrets. What happened to her?’

‘She fell out of a window and broke her neck.’

‘Probably for the best.’

‘It was.’

‘I imagine you’ve been invited to convince me those two stuffed shirts have no problems with my calling?’

‘How’d you guess?’

‘Do you?’

‘Of course not! I like you.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t dye your hair, you dress tastefully, don’t drink alcohol, have a beautiful voice…’

‘Mmm. A man of sense. How would you like to join me in a little game to test the lawyers’ professed tolerance?’

‘Sounds fun. But I like it here, so don’t do anything that’ll get me sacked.’

‘Don’t worry, I fully intend to put my affairs in the hands of these two pompous asses; but the minute I saw you I was reminded of Perdita’s wicked sense of humour and wondered if…’

‘Sly told me to just sit there like a pretty ornament.’

‘You aren’t pretty. You’re beautiful.’

‘Thanks. Poor bugger, he nearly shat himself when I walked in. He belongs to the nude is rude brigade.’

‘Come on then, let’s get started.’

Back on the verandah, Procura perched perkily on a chair and smiled brightly. Now I feel better, there’s nothing more refreshing than walking in the garden on the arm of a gloriously handsome naked young man.’ She turned to Mort. ‘I’ve no idea what Oasis pays you, but I guarantee you ten times as much if you’ll come and work for me.’

‘As a prostitute?’ Sly asked.

‘An escort.’

‘How much would he earn?’ Don asked, suddenly curious.

‘I’ve clients who’d pay from five to ten thousand.’

Stunned silence.

‘Surely no woman would pay that sort of money just for…’

‘Men, not women; they’re far too mean. Even saggy old bags think the boys should pay them.’

‘Men! But that’s…’

‘It’s just sex, Avariss. You sleep with a man, so why shouldn’t young men? There are many people for whom that sort of money means nothing. They’ll lose fifty thousand in a casino without blinking an eyelid. Of course, I have to be very careful selecting my boys.’

‘How do you do that?’

‘Good question. And if you lawyers are serious about handling my business, you should be prepared to learn something about how it’s run.’

‘We are! Aren’t we, Sly?’

‘Yes, Procura. We’re very interested.’

‘Good. Mortaumal, come and stand close. I’m going to teach Don, Sly and the girls how to select young men.’ She winked and Mort could scarcely contain a giggle.’

Groin thrust slightly forward, abdominals taut, chest proud, head high, eyes amused, Mort stood as close as possible.

She turned to her hosts. ‘Bring your chairs into a tight semi-circle; close enough to touch our model. Closer… Perfect.’

‘Mortaumal...’ Don’s voice sounded strained, ‘You are not…’ his voice trailed away as Procura raised an eyebrow.

‘Don,’ Her voice was cool. ‘You told me you are easy about nudity and sex; was that a lie?’

‘Don’t worry, Procura,’ Mort interrupted. ‘Don’s happy with anything as long as it’s healthy and hygienic. He was just making sure I’m OK with it.’

‘And are you?’

‘Yeah! Can’t wait to see if I’m top drawer material.’

Procura turned cool eyes on the bright red faces of her hosts. ‘Shall I continue?’

‘Yes, Yes, please it is most interesting. You were saying…’

‘I test for skin texture and sexual response to touch by doing this.’ She placed the palms of her hands on Mort’s shoulders. ‘As I slide my palms lightly over the surface I feel the ripple of muscles. The skin is silken and firm. Soft but hard. A wonderful combination.’ She slid her palms down till they hovered lightly over his chest. ‘I am barely touching these perfect pectorals, and I can feel his nipples swell and become hard, like tiny cones. How does it feel to you, Mortaumal?’

Mort’s eyes were almost closed; his head tilted back, a soft smile on his face. ‘Divine,’ he whispered. ‘Like little electric shocks going straight to my groin.’

‘A perfect response. Look, ladies and gentlemen, the swelling at the base of his penis indicates exceptional sensitivity and response. The beast is arising.’

Despite themselves, the four observers leaned forward and gazed in awe tinged with guilt.

‘The only way to learn, is hands on experience, so Mortaumal will stand in front of each of you in turn. Don first, then Jane, Avariss and Sly.’ Procura’s voice was harsh and no one dared object. ‘Ladies, remove your rings.’

They did, handing them to their husbands to pocket.

The novice selectors of suitable young men began nervously, but quickly gained courage and began to relax and enjoy the experience. When all four had felt the strength of Mort’s shoulders, the delicious hardness of his nipples, and admired the by now engorged penis, he returned to the guru.

Procura placed one hand on his buttocks and the other on his abdomen. ‘A man’s character is visible in his buttocks. To work for me a man must have a firm, bubble butt. To test, firmly massage each cheek to feel the quality, while pressing firmly on the abdomen with the other hand. There you will feel plates of pure muscle that can withstand the most powerful punch any man can give.’

Keeping her hand on Mort’s buttocks, she slid her other down and cupped his scrotum, nodding knowledgeably. ‘The scrotum is an excellent indicator of sexual prowess. Mortaumal’s feels like a tight velvet bag, and as I gently massage it I detect two firm testicles about the size of medium eggs, one slightly larger than the other. These are in perfect condition and will produce copious amounts of ejaculate—essential for any young man hoping to enter this profession. Am I hurting you Mortaumal?’

‘No, I love having my balls massaged. You’re an expert.’

‘Yes, I am. And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pièce de résistance, the pillar of manhood; the shaft of delight. How powerful it is. As I gently slide my hand up and down I can feel it swelling even further, expanding, filling with blood.’ She sat back with a contented sigh. ‘Now it is your turn. Start with Don again, Mortaumal.’

There was virtually no initial reluctance this time. Each student massaged Mort’s bubble butt, pressed the hard abdominal plates, gently manipulated their model’s velvet scrotum and testicles before wrapping their hand around his manhood and sliding it up and down, eyes alight in wonder as his glans popped into view, then disappeared into his foreskin, only to emerge again; each time shinier, stiffer, more engorged. Sly became so engrossed in manipulating Mort’s turgid tower he was surprised when Mort said brightly, ‘You’d better stop, Sly. Cum is difficult to remove from clothes.’

The laugh was universal, genuine, relaxed, and not even slightly tinged with embarrassment.

‘Procura beckoned Mortaumal to her, removed one of the smooth silver bangles from her arm, and slid it with difficulty right down to the base of his penis.

‘It’s still swelling,’ Jane whispered. ‘The bangle is sinking into the skin. Does it hurt, Mortaumal?’

‘Not in the least,’ Mort smiled. ‘It feels sexy and nice.’

‘And it will help keep the erection firm longer,’ Procura stated with a satisfied nod. ‘Walk up and down, Mortaumal, so we can all admire you.’

Mort paraded, grinning widely. Suddenly he grabbed his belly and looked at his host in alarm. ‘Don, did you hear that? My stomach’s telling me it’s empty. Didn’t you mentioned a meal when you invited me?’

Laughter, apologies, and they moved to the dining room. The table was a delight of candles, silver, porcelain and crystal, the meal delicious. The talk friendly, humorous and relaxed; mostly about sex, nudity, prostitution, porn videos and other topics that an hour previously no one would have dared to mention in case they were thought to be perverted.

They retired to the verandah for coffee.