I won't forget' She stared at me, puffing sporadically on a cigarette; she'd finished her drink.
`What if I were to phone a friend of mine, a queer, and order you to perform sexually with him. Could you do it?'
`Your command is my wish,' I said.
`Does the thought interest or frighten you?'
I introspected obediently.
`It bores and depresses me.'
`Good.'
She had me fix her another drink and went to a telephone and dialed two numbers, asking at both for Jed and hanging
up each time disappointed.
`Lie down on the floor, on your face, while I think.'
As I presented myself I began to look back with pleasure at being just old Luke. After a while she said: `All right, let's
go to bed.'
I followed her into a bedroom, neutrally removed her clothes piece by piece at her command and followed her into a narrow double bed. We both lay quietly not touching for a few minutes. I was conscientiously trying not to do a thing unless she commanded me. I felt her hand run down my chest across my belly and come to rest a few inches from my pubic hair. She turned to me and nibbled at my ear, licked my neck, kissed me slowly, wetly, languorously on the mouth and throat. And neck. And chest. And belly. And et cetera. Her maneuvers had a predictable effect despite my recent shameful behavior. She noted the effect, rolled over to the other side of the bed and said nothing else. She tossed and turned a long time and then I guess I must have fallen asleep.
Sometime later I was dreaming that I was going to take a bath and as I sank into the tub I paused to feel the delicious warmth on my balls and penis and awoke to realize that Linda had ward and stiffened my cock with her mouth. When I touched her hair and groped for her body, she gave one last farewell lick and nibble and came up over me and spread herself and placed me inside her and put her lips to mine and began to churn.
The state of semi-sleep is sometimes like that of being lightly stoned and I let Linda do all the work, which consisted mainly of making waves of wanton wiggles with her hips and her insides, and streams of wanton licks and nibbles on my chest, shoulders and neck, and when she said, `Pump,' I pumped, clasping in my hands her perfect buttocks like two hot firm grapefruit, and she groaned and became tense and grinding, tense and grinding, grinding and then relaxed.
She lay on me and I dozed off and then was awakened to feel her moving again, I stiff within her, her mouth on my throat and her insides caressing me like waves of hot eels wrapped around me and she moved but I dozed off again to awaken to her hard mouth enclosing my prick in her hands caressing and pinching and generally 'laying waste the lower erogenous zones and when I touched her hair she groaned and rolled over and took me on top of her and ground away at me and told me to move but not to come so I pumped and swirled and tried to think about Willy May's batting average statistics for the 1950s and after a while her body went limp and she nudged me to roll off her and I did and I dozed off and slept and awakened again already inside her, and she again on top of me moving easily and gently and it must have been near dawn because now I was more awake and began to move too but she said no and tongued and bit my ears, and neck and moved three directions at once down below and when she said okay I dug my fingers into her crack around her buttocks and tried to ram her right over my head and she made a lot of nice noises and I emptied a lake inside her lake and we both moved on a while and then fell apart into another sleep.
I awoke on my stomach with a knee touching her body someplace; it was well into the morning and I felt hungry. Linda was staring wide-awake at the ceiling.
`I command you,' she said slowly, `to give me any commands you wish, I will obey them until I cease to feel like it and order you to do something.'
`I'm to be your temporary master?'
`That's right. And I want you to give me orders that you really want me to do.'
'Look at me,' I said. .
She looked over at me.
`What we're doing is very important. The commands . . '
'I don't want lectures.'
'I command you to listen to me.'
`You can order me to do a lot of other things, but no lectures. Not in these twenty-four hours.'
`I see,' I said. I paused. `Return my kiss tenderly, with affection but without lust.'
She sat up beside me, looked coldly into my eyes for a moment and then, softening, brought her lips gently to mine.
I lay back onto the pillow and said: `Kiss my face with the tenderness you'd feel … if my face were the white rose.'
A brief tautness crossed her face before, eyes closed, she framed my face with her hands and lowered her lips to begin
gently kissing it.
'Thank you, Linda, that was beautiful. You are beautiful.'
She didn't open her eyes or interrupt her delicate kissing but after a while I said: `Lie back now on the bed and close
your eyes.'
She obeyed. Her face looked more relaxed than I had ever seen it.
`Pretend that I am a prince who loves you with a spiritual devotion beyond anything known outside of the most
overdone fairy tale. You are worshipped by him. Your beauty exceeds that of any creature that God has ever created. And you are a perfect perfect person, without spiritual or physical flaw. And the prince, your husband, comes to you now on your wedding night to express at last the pure, religious, sacred, holy passion he has for you. Receive his love with joy: I had spoken slowly and hypnotically and began with what I hoped was appropriate delicacy and religiosity to caress her body and touch it with the most spiritual kisses. Spiritual kisses, for the average reader's information, are relatively dry, 'gentle and poorly aimed: that is, they approach central target zones but always manage to just miss. I was proceeding with increasing devotion and pleasure when her body suddenly disappeared: she had leapt out of bed.
`Stop touching me,' she yelled.
I felt as embarrassed and undignified as I had the night before. `Are you taking away my power already?'
I said.
`Yes, yes!' She was trembling.
I remained on my hands and knees looking up at her.
`Get dressed,' she said. `Get out' `But Linda The deal is over. Off. Get out.'
`Our deal was-'
`Out!' she shouted.
`Okay,' I said, getting down off the bed. `I'll leave. But at nine forty-five tonight I'll be back. The deal is on.'
`No. No no no. It's off. You're insane. I don't know what you want, but no, never, it's off.'
I slowly dressed and, receiving no new command from a sitting, face-averted Linda, I left.
I remained outside the apartment building, trailed her downtown when she left about an hour later, remained outside
an apartment in the Village until five thirty in the afternoon and then followed her to a restaurant, where she ate. She didn't seem to be aware that I was following her or even that I might be following. Organic chemistry picked her up after supper and starting with him, she wandered from bar to bar, picking up friends, losing them, gaining others, drinking heavily and generally doing nothing interesting. At nine forty-five on the dot I moved in. Linda was seated at a table with three men I'd sever seen before; she looked drowsy and drunk. One of the men had his hand way up under
her skirt. I came to the table, looked hypnotically into her eyes and said: `it's a quarter of ten now, Linda. Come with
me.'
Her blurred eyes cleared briefly, she coughed sad wobbled to her feet.
`Hey, where you going, baby?' one of the men asked. Another took hold of her arm.
`Linda is following me,' I said and took a step nearer the guy who had taken her arm and loomed over him and stared
down with what I tried to make seem suppressed fury. He released her.
I glared once briefly at each of the other two men and turned and left. With what must have been considerably less dignity than Peter or Matthew following Jesus, Linda followed.
Chapter Fifty-nine
[Being a questioning of Dr. Lucius Rhinehart by Inspector Nathaniel Putt of the New York City police regarding the unfortunate escape of thirty-three mental patients from a performance of Hair. Six of the patients are still at large.]
`Mr. Rhinehart, I-' `It's Dr. Rhinehart,' interrupted Dr. Mann irritably.
`Ah, excuse me,' said Inspector Putt, ceasing his pacing briefly to. stare back at Dr. Mann seated beside Dr. Rhinehart
on a low, ancient couch in the inspector's office. `Dr. Rhinehart, first, I must inform you that you are entitled to have a
lawyer present to rep-'
`Lawyers make me nervous.'
`- resent you. I see. All right. Let's proceed. Did you or did you not meet with Eric Cannon in the cafeteria of QSH
between the hours of ten thirty and eleven fifteen on August 12?'
`I did.'
`You did?'
`I did.'
`I see. For what purpose?'
`He invited me to see him. Since he was a distinguished former patient of mine, I went' `What did you talk about?'
`We talked about his desire to see the musical Hair. He informed me that many of the patients wanted to see Hair.'
`Anything else?'
'I shook the dice and determined that I would do everything is my power to take Eric and thirty-seven others to see
Hair.'
`But, Luke,' interrupted Dr. Mann. `You must have realized the incred -'
'Steady, Dr. Mann,' said Inspector Putt. `I'll handle this.'
He came and stood directly in front of Dr. Rhinehart, his tall, slender body leaning forward, his sharp gray eyes falling
coldly on his suspect. `After you decided to help Cannon and others to leave the hospital, what did you do?'
`I forged Dr. Mann's signature on letters to me and to several others and proceeded to effect the temporary release of
the patients.'
`You admit this?'
`Of course I admit this. The patients wanted to see Hair.'
`But,' but said Dr. Mann.
`Steady, sir,' interrupted the inspector. `If I understand your position now correctly, Dr. Rhinehart, you are now
confessing that you did, in fact, forge Dr. Mann's signature, and on your own initiative obtain the release to go to
Manhattan of thirty seven mental patients.'
`Thirty-eight. Absolutely. To see Hair.'
`Why did you lie to us before?'
'The Die told me to.'
'The…'
The inspector stopped and stared at Dr. Rhinehart. 'The die . . . .yes. Please describe your motivation in taking the
patients to Hair.'
'The Die told me to.'
`And why did you cover up your trail by forging Dr. Mann's signature and pretending to try to see Dr. Mann?'
'The Die told me to.'
`Your subsequent lying was 'The Die told me to.'
`And now you say-'
'The Die told me to.'
There was a very long silence, during which the inspector stared neutrally at the wall above Dr. Rhinehart's head.
`Dr. Mann, sir, perhaps you could explain to me precisely what Dr. Rhinehart means: `He means,' said Dr. Mann in a
small, tired voice, `that the dice told him to.'
`A cast of the dice?'
'The dice.'
`Told him to?'
`Told him to.'
`And thus,' said Dr. Rhinehart, `I had no intention of permitting any patients to escape. I plead guilty to forging Dr.
Mann's signature on trivial letters which, as I understand it, is of misdemeanor, and to showing poor judgment in the handling of mental patients, which, since it is universally practiced by everyone else associated with mental hospitals, is nowhere considered a crime of any sort.'
Inspector Putt looked down on Dr. Rhinehart with a cold smile.
`How do we know that you did not agree to help Cannon and Jones and their followers escape?'
'I will give my statements and, when you get close enough to talk to him again, you will have Mr. Cannon's statements,
which, however, will be inadmissible as evidence no matter what he says.'
`Thanks a lot,' the inspector said ironically.
`Does it not occur to you, Inspector, that in telling you that I forged Dr. Mann's signature, I may be lying because the
Die has told me to?'
'What-'
`That in fact my original statements of innocence may be the true ones?'
`What? What are you suggesting?'
`Simply that yesterday when I heard that you wished to question me again, I created three options for the Die to
choose from: that I tell you I had nothing to do with the order to go to Hair; that I tell you that I initiated the excursion
and forged the orders; and thirdly, that I tell you I conspired with Eric Cannon to help him escape. The Die chose the
second. But which is the truth seems to me to be still an open question.'
`But, but.'
`Steady, Inspector,' said Dr. Mann.
`But - What are you saying?'
'The Die told me to tell you that the Die told me to take the patients on an excursion to Hair.'
`But is that story the truth?' asked Inspector Putt, his face somewhat flushed.
Dr. Rhinehart shook a die onto the little coffee table in front of him. He examined the result.
`Yes,' he announced.
The inspector's face became redder.
`But how do I know that what you have just said `Precisely,' said Dr. Rhinehart.
The inspector moved in a daze back behind his desk and sat down.
`Luke, you're relieved of all your duties at QSH as of today,' said Dr. Mann.
`Thank you, Tim.'
`I suppose you're still on our board of management for the simple reason that I don't have the authority to fire you
from that, but in our October meeting -'
'You could forge Dr. Cobblestone's signature, Tim.'
There was a silence.
`Are there any more questions, Inspector?' Dr. Rhinehart asked.
`Do you wish to initiate criminal proceedings against Dr. Rhinehart for forgery, sir?' the Inspector asked Dr. Mann.
Dr. Mann turned and looked a long time into the black, sincere eyes of Dr. Rhinehart, who returned his gaze steadily.
`No, Inspector, I'm afraid I can't. For the good of the hospital, for the good of everyone, I wish you'd keep this whole
conversation confidential. The public thinks the escape was a conspiracy of hippies and blacks. For all we know; as Dr.
Rhinehart so kindly points out, it still may be a conspiracy of hippies and blacks. They also wouldn't understand why
all Dr. Rhinehart has done only constitutes a misdemeanor.'
`It confuses me, sir.'
`Precisely. There are some things we must protect the common man from knowing as long as we can.'
`I think you're right.'
`May I go now, fellows?' asked Dr. Rhinehart
Chapter Sixty
The Die is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled,
Though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.
I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my Die
Than to dwell in the tents of consistency.
For the Lord Chance is a sun and a shield
Chance will give grace and glory and folly and shame:
Nothing will be withheld from them that walk randomly.
Q Lord of Chance, My Die, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee. .
from The Book of the Die
Chapter Sixty-one
`Your free will has made a mess of things,' I told Linda after explaining a
t length my dice theory. `Give the Die a try.'
`You sound like a TV commercial,' she said.
Nevertheless, Linda and I began living a dicelife together, the first full dice-couple in history. She knew she'd reached
a dead end with her `real' self and enjoyed trying to express a variety of others. Her sexual and social promiscuity was
a good preparation for the dicelife; it dis-inhibited her in an area which often blocks the whole life system. On the
other-hand, she had repressed the whole spiritual side of herself: she was as ashamed of having to pray in front of me
as would be most other people of having to perform soixante-neuf at the communion rail. But she could do it (and
probably the other too). She prayed.
I was tender and warm with her and - when the Die so chose - I treated her like a cheap slut, using her body to satisfy
the most perverse desires whim could create and Whim choose. I insisted that her reactions to my tenderness and to
my sadism be determined by the Die - whether she responded to my tender love with a bitchy self or with a sweet,
giving self, or whether she was a bitter, cynical whore, half-enjoying being abased by me sexually, or a flower deeply
crushed by cruelty.
She followed the Die's commands with the intense fanaticism of the new convert to any religion. Together we prayed, wrote poems and prayers, discussed dice therapy and practiced our randoming lives. Although she wanted to give up her sexual promiscuity, I insisted that it was a part of her and must be given a chance to be expressed. One night the Die commanded her to go out and pick up a man and bring him back to the apartment and she did and the Die ordered me to join them and the two of us worked with her diligently for two hours. I shook the Die next morning to see how I was to treat her and it said `in a surly fashion,' but the Die told her `not to worry about last night' and to `love me' no matter how I acted, and she did.
In the fall the Die set us the assignment of infiltrating the numerous encounter groups in New York City. We were trying to introduce some of their group members into diceliving.
We varied who we were from one encounter or sensitivity group to the next, sometimes acting as a couple, sometimes acting as a couple, sometimes as strangers.
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