Master of the Game

We’re in this together all the way, George, and we’ll share everything right down the middle.

George Mellis did not believe in partners. When he had what he wanted, when he had disposed of Alexandra, then he would take care of Eve. That thought gave him enormous pleasure.

"You’re smiling," Alexandra said.

He put his hand over hers, and his touch warmed her. "I was thinking how nice it was our being here together. About our being anywhere together." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewel box. "I brought something for you from Greece."

"Oh, George…"

"Open it, Alex."

Inside the box was an exquisite diamond necklace.

"It’s beautiful."

It was the one he had taken from Eve. It’s safe to give it to her, Eve had told him. She’s never seen it.

"It’s too much. Really."

"It’s not nearly enough. I’ll enjoy watching you wear it."

"I – " Alexandra was trembling. "Thank you."

He looked at her plate. "You haven’t eaten anything."

"I’m not hungry."

He saw the look in her eyes again and felt the familiar soaring sense of power. He had seen that look in the eyes of so many women: beautiful women, ugly women, rich women, poor women. He had used them. In one way or another, they had all given him something. But this one was going to give him more than all of them put together.

"What would you like to do?" His husky voice was an invitation.

She accepted it, simply and openly. "I want to be with you."

George Mellis had every right to be proud of his apartment. It was a tasteful jewel of a place, furnished by grateful lovers – men and women – who had tried to buy his affection with expensive gifts, and had succeeded, always temporarily.

"It’s a lovely apartment," Alexandra exclaimed.

He went over to her and slowly turned her around so that the diamond necklace twinkled in the subdued lighting of the room. "It becomes you, darling."

And he kissed her gently, and then more urgently, and Alexandra was hardly aware when he led her into the bedroom. The room was done in tones of blue, with tasteful, masculine furniture. In the center of the room stood a large, king-size bed. George took Alexandra in his arms again and found that she was shaking. "Are you all right, kale’ mou?"

"I – I’m a little nervous." She was terrified that she would disappoint this man. She took a deep breath and started to unbutton her dress.

George whispered, "Let me." He began to undress the exquisite blonde standing before him, and he remembered Eve’s words: Control yourself. If you hurt Alexandra, if she finds out what a pig you really are, you’ll never see her again. Do you understand that? Save your fists for your whores and your pretty little boys.

And so George tenderly undressed Alexandra and studied her nakedness. Her body was exactly the same as Eve’s: beautiful and ripe and full. He had an overwhelming desire to bruise the white, delicate skin; to hit her, choke her, make her scream. If you hurt her, you’ll never see her again.

He undressed and drew Alexandra close to his body. They stood there together, looking into each other’s eyes, and then George gently led Alexandra to the bed and began to kiss her, slowly and lovingly, his tongue and fingers expertly exploring every crevice of her body until she was unable to wait another moment.

"Oh, please," she said. "Now. Now!"

He mounted her then, and she was plunged into an ecstasy that was almost unbearable. When finally Alexandra lay still in his arms and sighed, "Oh, my darling. I hope it was as wonderful for you," he lied and said, "It was."

She held him close and wept, and she did not know why she was weeping, only that she was grateful for the glory and the joy of it.

"There, there," George said soothingly. "Everything is marvelous."

And it was.

Eve would have been so proud of him.

In every love affair, there are misunderstandings, jealousies, small hurts, but not in the romance between George and Alexandra. With Eve’s careful coaching, George was able to play skillfully on Alexandra’s every emotion. George knew Alexandra’s fears, her fantasies, her passions and aversions, and he was always there, ready to give her exactly what she needed. He knew what made her laugh, and what made her cry. Alexandra was thrilled by his lovemaking, but George found it frustrating. When he was in bed with Alexandra, listening to her animal cries, her excitement aroused him to a fever pitch. He wanted to savage her, make her scream for mercy so he could have his own relief. But he knew if he did that he would destroy everything. His frustration kept growing. The more they made love, the more he grew to despise Alexandra.

There were certain places where George Mellis could find satisfaction, but he knew he had to be cautious. Late at night he haunted anonymous singles’ bars and gay discos, and he picked up lonely widows looking for an evening’s comfort, gay boys hungry for love, prostitutes hungry for money. George took them to a series of seedy hotels on the West Side, in the Bowery and in Greenwich Village. He never returned to the same hotel twice, nor would he have been welcomed back. His sexual partners usually were found either unconscious or semiconscious, their bodies battered and sometimes covered with cigarette burns.

George avoided masochists. They enjoyed the pain he inflicted, and that took away his pleasure. No, he had to hear them scream and beg for mercy, as his father had made him scream and beg for mercy when George was a small boy. His punishments for the smallest infractions were beatings that often left him unconscious. When George was eight years old and his father caught him and a neighbor’s son naked together, George’s father beat him until the blood ran from his ears and nose, and to make sure the boy never sinned again, his father pressed a lighted cigar to George’s penis. The scar healed, but the deeper scar inside festered.