Page 57 - Titanic: The Untold Tale of Gay Passengers and Crew

Titanic 43

“Poo,” Molly said at supper. “Of course, the mummy’s
cursed. No one pays admission if there’s no curse. That’s the
thrill.”
“That’s one kind of thrill,” I said.
Edward winked at Molly and they laughed uproariously.
John Jacob Astor stared straight ahead.
At 9:30 exactly, Edward looked at his gold pocket watch,
and excused himself from Molly and me, and our jolly party,
in the Main Salon. Edward whispered, “He said he’d lock
me up and throw away the key!”
At 10 exactly, stripped na ked, his 10 inches hard in front
of him, Edward found himself kneel ing, locked in a cell,
sucking the muscular Stoker’s massive 14-inch cock through
the steel bars. At 10:30, Edward, jacking his own cock, was
ordered by the Stoker to back down and lie on the floor of
the cell. The Stoker, as lead coalman, left to check on his
boiler crew. Edward, disobe diently, aristocrat ically, aban-
doning the common seaman’s order to lie on the cold floor,
lay alone on the single bunk in the cell, his cock in his hand,
a smile on his face.
“I’m chilly,” Molly said.
“I am always chilled,” Ma dame Ouspenskaya stated.
Our table laughed. Even Mrs. J. J. Astor.
“Indeed,” said the famous mystery writer Jacques Futrelle,
who six days previous had cele brated his 37th birthday at a
fashionable London restaurant. “An American gentleman
told my wife that Captain Maxwell told him that between
7 and 10 PM the air tempera ture has dropped from 43 to
32 degrees.”
“The promenade deck,” Mrs. Futrelle said, “was notice-
ably cool this afternoon.”
“Still,” Madame Ouspenskaya said, “the sea is calm.”