One Sex Bit
In any case, the collectively therapeutic conversation concerning our mutual acquaintance had made me aware of Philip�s peculiarity and heightened my sensitivity of the peculiarity�s evidence. I was perhaps unlucky that my sensitivity should have been heightened at the moment that it was to receive its most shocking stimulus.
It was another large winter ball held by the same family as that at whose Helena had first spoken to me of Philip�s breath that reunited the three of us in attendance. The family was proudly presenting their second daughter, having succesfully married the first as a probable consequence of the previous engagement. There were bound to be many young men about, eager to court, as well as young women to pick up the stragglers. I thought that it was again to be a source of amusement for Philip; jealousy Helena. After an astonishing converstation on astronomy with a brother of Bukar�s recently returned from the colonies, I had mounted to the balcony from which I could overlook the dancers. Here there had been a recessed hallway and several closed doors to guest chambers giving directly onto the landing. While I leaned against the balustrade, a strange sequence of events had unfolded.
This first thing I noticed was a wafting odour near me. But this was ephemeral and my attention was replaced by the strange way a servant had begun acting of a sudden. I heard footsteps quite too near my back and turned to see a maid staring at me and backing away, looking frightened. Then I noticed that a door near me was ajar. From within the chamber came a muffled explosion like perhaps a small bomb in an aquarium. Looking after the retreating servant�s back and nurturing an unformulated question, my curiosity got the better of me and I approached the door.
From my vantage facing the foot of the large bed inside, I did not at first see the faces of its occupants. But I noticed Helena�s hair, always worn down, and her crumpled, dirty dress hiked to her waist. She was fucking, in crouching position, the bearer of the large brown penis underneath her, the man who groaned her name in distinctly the voice of Philip. I had entered at the opportune moment when their throes would be most likely to draw their attention from my presence, as I could clearly see by their frantic motion, the machine-like ease with which their organs, even when momentarily separated, recoupled, and the awful palpitating dilation of all involved orifices, including, to my disgust, the moist, hairy and brown cavern of Philip�s arsehole, into the activity of which I was directly looking at the precise moment of crisis.
Although it was the first time I had viewed, voluntarily or no, the coupling of lovers, it was not my embarassed invasion that rested in my mind but rather the boiling brown motion inside Philip�s colon, a turbulence seeming to gather for a forceful ejection of his excrement onto the banded drapery. I retreated.
Other Sex Bit
I entered into communication with the physic in town, sending directly a message of utmost need, and urged the man to speed his way to my home. Of whether he arrived quickly or no my rage and worry did not permit the calculation, but it was no small occasion to further my rage when I saw the hooded figure�s steps approach over the hill in reflective, gradual measure. I sped the medic to task.
In my confusion, however, I did not make note of the medic�s rather unaccountable behaviour, for the figure maintained a complete silence in transaction with me, returning no greeting, and proceeding directly to the room without a word. I threw my weariness over the sofas and attempted to wait out my anxiety. It was some minutes before, tumbler in hand, two reflections gave form to two fleet observations I had let escape upon the medic�s arrival. The first was that there had been an inordinate stink of the liquor about the figure, and the second, that I had not once, during my hurried, worried and confused exclamations, made any mention of the location of the sick man�s bed.
I sat up immediately, and shook off with force the effect the tumbler's contents had descended upon my ill-defended awareness. There had been no prior communication to town about the occupant of my rooms, as I had steadily kept all the staff on the grounds. I surmised that whoever could know Philip�s location, must have been one of the participants in his late debauchery. One means, I had, of confronting this surmise, which I put into action.
Behind my great-great-grandfather�s portrait, my great-gradfather had instituted a narrow passage that connected the rooms of Philip�s wing to his own rooms. This portrait was impossible to lift from the wall by a single man, given the heaviness of its frame, and thus the passage had not been frequented, but instead, if one located the seam of the trouser in the portrait, one could lift a section of canvas that, when grasped, swung the entire frame inwards and into the passage. This last I entered.
The passage ran the length of the wing, and the rooms into which it opened were marked on the wall, but these marks had, through disuse, long faded. I therefore expected to rely on erring and trial before I reached my destination. This meant that I groped for the panel that afforded a view onto each communicating chamber, and this panel opened, I peered upon the scene within. I recognised my advance towards the sick man�s room by the sequence of rooms leading to it.
This method would have perhaps been unnecessary if I had considered the incomparable noises that would likely have led me straight to my target. Indeed, as I approached, I began to hear the muffled outbursts of the strange treatment, filtered, but not muted, by the damp stone of the secret corridor. Recognising the source of the noises, I proceeded directly to its regions, and fumbled with the panel. The exclamations of agony having increased in both frequency and force, I panicked and lost grip on the thin, ancient grove that permitted the access to the chamber. At last, it revealed all.
As the last time, I was afforded a most indicriminate view of the occupants� actions. Unlike the last time, I was the only witness, and fortunately, because my shock riveted me to the greater grotesqueness of the scene.
This time, when my hasty fumblings had unlocked the panel, I confronted again the heaving arseholes meeting and separating in a dual star system model of the human act of coupling. Of course, when I had sent the team to clean the man, I knew, despite my denials, what they faced, and what I had not wanted to face. Through a mad favoritism of pure and uninterrupted revelery over hygiene, Philip had allowed his entire body to become coated with his own waste. While I had observed this previously on his face, arms, and hands, I now saw the extent to which it had reached. The medick�s habit lay discarded near the door, and its former occupant heaved her rear up and down over the prostrate patient, and her thrown-back head and throaty rasps took no aversion to the fetid brown pole surveying her nether cavern.
The hooded medick, my sudden multiple cascade of thoughts told me, could only ever have been Helena. She had revealed by her white, bony body the identity of the hooded figure, and it only occured to me later to wonder how she had acquired the medic�s habit. Now this revealed body, this fetid coupling, these twin orbiting stars unleashed blows to my consciousness the size of continents, and my body was nothing but a vessel fixed to the image of repeated ecstasy.