Page 32 - The Gluckman Occasional 7

buttons; they could only be opened from the outside or by the
driver unlocking them electrically. He asks her about that, and
she says she doesn’t know why, but all the cars in her country are
sold that way. Finally they get to her villa. Like most rich people
there, she had a high wall with no windows around her house.
Inside there might be a palace with fountains and gardens, but
you wouldn’t know it from the outside.

Anyway, the gates open, and sure enough it’s real Arabian Nights
stuff inside: swimming pools with potted palms, arches inlaid
with tile, lots or shady spots behind whitewashed walls. And, he
notices right away, no men. Not counting the goon, of course,
who turns out to be a eunuch. Yeah, that’s it exactly; they still
exist over there, and they do more than sing soprano in the choir.
The gates close behind him and he starts to ask questions.
Where’s the cameras? Where’s the crew? When do I get to see the
scr1pt?

Then she has her muscle-man sit him down and she explained
the facts of life. She wasn’t a film student. She wasn’t making a
movie. She was a widow. Her husband was a playboy who died in
Europe, and she managed to hold on to certain property which
she had transferred to her name. The women in Paris and Rome
and Monte Carlo had ruined her husband’s health while putting a
small dent in his fortune, and she had decided to have a little fun
now that he was gone. Our young friend, the surfer, the golden
god, the porno star, was going to provide her with sex on
demand as long as she felt like keeping him. And that was that.

Well, he didn’t go into details, but he made one hell of a scene,
telling them he wouldn’t do it, that he was an American citizen,
he had his rights, she’d never get away with it, and so forth. She
let him rant and rave for a while. Then the bodyguard took out a
very long knife and started sharpening it on a stone. He’s
completely loyal to me, she tells our hero; I saved him from a
cruel master when he was but a child, and now he obeys and
protects me without question. Oho! Now the ‘Oil Boy’ realizes
that he’s trapped: nobody knows where he is, all his papers are
gone, and the eunuch looks ready to cut his throat if he doesn’t
fall into line.