Women (37 page)

“Oh.”

“I mean, we don’t have sex, we never have, yet he’s so jealous. Remember the night you phoned me?”

“No.”

“Well, after I hung up he ripped the phone out of the wall.”

'“He may be in love with you. Better be good to him.”

“Are you good to the people who love you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I’m infantile; I can’t handle it.”

We drank for the remainder of the night then went to bed shortly before dawn. I hadn’t split that 90 pounds in half. She could handle me and much much more.

102

When I awakened a few hours later, Tanya was not in the bed. It was only 9 am. I found her sitting on the couch drinking out of a pint of whiskey.

“Jesus, you start early.”

“I always wake up at 6 am and I get up.”

“I always get up at noon. We’re going to have a problem.”

Tanya hit the whiskey and I went back to bed. Rising at 6 am was insanity. Her nerves must be shot. No wonder she didn’t weigh anything.

She walked in. “I’m going for a walk.”

“O.K.”

I went back to sleep.

When I next awakened Tanya was on top of me. My cock was hard and buried into her cunt. She was riding me again. She threw back her head, arched her body back. She was doing all the work. She gave little gasps of delight and the gasps kept getting closer and closer. I also began making sounds. They got louder. I could feel myself approaching. I was right there. Then it happened. It was a good long hard climax. Then Tanya climbed off. I was still hard. Tanya put her head down there and while looking into my eyes she began to tongue the sperm off the head of my cock. She was some scullery maid.

She got up and went to the bathroom. I could hear the bath water running. It was only 10:15 am. I went back to sleep.

103

I took Tanya to Santa Anita. The current sensation was a 16 year old jockey still riding with his 5 pound bug advantage. He was from the east and was riding at Santa Anita for the first time. The track was offering a prize of $10,000 to the person who could pick

the winner of the feature race, but his or her entry had to be plucked out of all the other entries. One person was drawn for each horse and it went from there.

We drove in about the 4th race and the suckers had the place filled to capacity. All the seats were gone and there was no parking left. Track personnel directed us into a nearby shopping center. They had busses to shuttle us in. They would let us walk back after the last race.

“This is madness. I feel like going back,” I told Tanya.

She took a pull from her pint. “Fuck it,” she said, “we’re here.”

After we got inside I knew a special place to sit, comfortable and isolated, and I took her there. The only thing wrong was that the children had discovered it too. They ran about kicking up dust and screaming, but it was better than standing.

“We’re leaving after the 8th race,” I told Tanya. “The last of these people won’t get out of here until midnight.”

“I’ll bet a racetrack would be a good place to pick up men.”

“The hookers work the clubhouse.”

“Did a hooker ever pick you up out here?”

“Once, but it didn’t count.”

“Why?”

“I already knew her.”

“Aren’t you afraid of catching something?”

“Of course, that’s why most men will only take head.”

“You like head?”

“Why, sure.”

“When do we bet?”

“Right now.”

Tanya followed me to the betting windows. I went to the $5 window. She stood beside me.

“How do you know who to bet?”

“Nobody knows. Basically, it’s a simple system.”

“Like what?”

“Well, generally the best horse goes off at the shortest odds, and as the horses get progressively worse the odds mount. But, the so-called 'best’ horse only wins one third of the time at odds of less than 3 to one.”

“Can you bet every horse in the race?”

“Yes, if you want to get poor fast.”

“Do many people win?”

“I’d say that about one person out of 20 or 25 wins.”

“Why do they come?”

“I’m no shrink, but I’m here, and I imagine a few shrinks are here too.”

I bet the 6 horse 5 win and we went out to watch the race. I always preferred a horse with early lick, especially if he had quit in his last race. The players called them “quitters” but you always got a better price for the same kind of ability that you got with a “closer.” I got 4 to one on my “quitter”; he won by 2 and Vi lengths and paid $10.20 for $2. I was $25.50 ahead.

“Let’s get a drink,” I said to Tanya. “The bartender makes the best Bloody Marys in Southern California.”

We went to the bar. They asked for Tanya’s I.D. We got our drinks.

“Who do you like in the next race?” Tanya asked.

“Zag-Zig.”

“Do you think he’ll win?”

“Do you have two breasts?”

“Have you noticed?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the ladies’ room?”

“Turn right twice.”

As soon as Tanya left I ordered another BM. A black guy walked up to me. He was around 50. “Hank, man, how are you doing?” ' “I’m holding on.”

“Man, we really miss you down at the P.O. You were one of the funniest guys we ever had. I mean, we miss you down there.”

“Thanks, tell the boys I said hello.”

“What are you doing now, Hank?”

“Oh, I pound a typewriter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I pound a typewriter. . . .”

I held both hands up and tapped down at the air.

“You mean you’re a clerk-typist?”

“No, I write.”

“Write what?”

“Poems, short stories, novels. They pay me for that.”

He looked at me. Then he turned and walked off.

Tanya came back. “Some son-of-a-bitch tried to pick me up!” “Oh? I’m sorry. I should have gone with you.” “He was very brash! I really hate those types! They’re slime!” “If they only had some originality it might help. They just don’t have any imagination. It might be why they are alone.” “I’m going to bet Zag-Zig.” “I’ll buy you a ticket. . . .”

Zag-Zig just didn’t stoke up. He came up to the gate weakly, the jock stroking away the whitewach with his whip. Zag-Zig broke poorly and then loped. He beat one horse. We went back to the bar. One hell of a race for a 6 to 5 shot.

We had two Marys.

“You like head?” Tanya asked me.

“It depends. Some do it well, most don’t.”

“Do you ever meet any friends out here?”

“I just did, the race before this.”

“A woman?”

“No, a guy, a postal clerk. I really don’t have any friends.”

“You’ve got me.”

“Ninety pounds of roaring sex.”

“Is that all you see in me?”

“Of course not. You have those large, large eyes.”

“You’re not very nice.”

“Let’s catch the next race.”

We caught the next race. She bet hers, I bet mine. We both lost.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

“O.K.,” said Tanya.

Back at my place we sat on the couch drinking. She really wasn’t a bad girl. She had such a sad look about her. She wore dresses and high heels and her ankles were good. I wasn’t quite sure what she expected of me. I had no desire to make her feel bad. I kissed her. She had a long thin tongue and it darted in and out of my mouth. I thought of a silverfish. There was so much sadness in everything, even when things worked.

Then Tanya unzipped me and had my cock in her mouth. She pulled it out and looked at me. She was on her knees between my legs. She stared into my eyes and ran her tongue around the head of my cock. Behind her the last of the sun was leaking through my dirty Venetian blinds. Then she went to work. She had absolutely no technique; she knew nothing about how it should be done. It was straight and simple bob and suck. As straight grotesque it was fine but it was hard to get it off on straight grotesque. I had been drinking and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So I went into fantasyland: we were both down at the beach, and we were surrounded by 45 or 50 people, male and female, most of them in bathing trunks. They were gathered around us in a small circle. The sun was up above, the sea rolled in and out, and you could hear it. Now and then two or three seagulls circled low over our heads.

Tanya sucked and bobbed as they watched and I heard their comments:

“Christ, look at her go and get it!”

“Cheap demented slut!”

“Sucking off a guy 40 years older than she is!”

“Pull her away! She’s crazy!”

“No, wait! She’s really getting at it!”

“And
LOOK
at that thing!”

“HORRIBLE!”

“Hey! I’ll get her in the ass while she’s doing it!”

“She’s CRAZY!
SUCKING
OFF
THAT
OLD
FUCK!!”

“Let’s burn her back with matches!”

“
LOOK
AT
HER
GO!”

“SHE’S
TOTALLY
CRAZY!”

I reached down and grabbed Tanya’s head and forced my cock into the center of her skull.

When she came out of the bathroom I had two drinks ready. Tanya took a sip and looked at me. “You liked it, didn’t you? I could tell.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You like symphony music?”

“Folk-rock,” she said.

I went over to the radio, moved it to 160, turned it on, turned it up. We were there.

104

I took Tanya to the airport the next afternoon. We had a drink in the same bar. The high-yellow wasn’t around; all that leg was with somebody else.

“I’ll write you,” said Tanya.

“All right.”

“Do you think I’m a chippy?”

“No. You love sex and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You really get off on it yourself.”

“There’s a lot of puritan in me. Puritans might enjoy sex more than anybody.”

“You do act more innocent than any man I’ve ever met.”

“In a sense I’ve always been a virgin. ...”

“I wish I could say that.”

“Another drink?”

“Sure.”

We drank in silence. Then it was time to board. I kissed Tanya goodbye outside of security, then took the escalator down. The ride home was uneventful. I thought, well, I’m alone again. I ought to get some fucking writing done or go back to being a janitor. The postal service will never take me back. A man must ply his trade, as they say.

I arrived at the court. There was nothing in the mailbox. I sat down and dialed Sara. She was at the Inn.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Is that bitch gone?”

“She’s gone.”

“How long?”

“I just put her on the plane.”

“Did you like her?”

“She had some qualities.”

“Do you love her?”

“No. Look, I’d like to see you.”

“I don’t know. It’s been terribly hard for me. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“Nobody is ever quite sure of what they will do. You aren’t sure what you might do.”

“I know what I feel.”

“Look, I don’t even ask what you’ve been doing, Sara.”

“Thanks, you’re very kind.”

“I’d like to see you. Tonight. Come on over.”

“Hank, I just don’t know. ...”

“Come on over. We can just talk.”

“I’m pretty damned upset. I’ve really gone through hell.”

“Look, let me put it this way: with me, you’re number one and there isn’t even a number two.”

“All right. I’ll be over about seven. Look, there are two customers waiting. . . .”

“All right. See you at seven.”

I hung up. Sara really was a good soul. To lose her for a Tanya was ridiculous. Yet, Tanya had brought me something. Sara deserved better treatment than I gave her. People owed each other certain loyalties even if they weren’t married. In a way, the trust should run deeper because it wasn’t sanctified by the law.

Well, we needed wine, good white wine.

I walked out, got in the Volks and drove up to the liquor store next to the supermarket. I like to change liquor stores frequently because the clerks got to know your habits if you went in night and day and bought huge quantities. I could feel them wondering why I wasn’t dead yet and it made me uncomfortable. They probably weren’t thinking any such thing, but then a man gets paranoid when he has 300 hangovers a year.

I found four bottles of good white wine in the new place and went out with them. Four young Mexican boys were standing outside.

“Hey, mister! Give us some money! Hey, man, give us some money!”

“What for?”

“We need it, man, we need it, don’t you know?”

“Gonna buy some coke?”

“Pepsi-Cola, man!”

I gave them 50 cents.

(
IMMORTAL
WRITER
COMES
TO
AID
OF
STREET
URCHINS
)

They ran off. I opened the door to the Volks and put the wine inside. Just as I did a van drove up rapidly and the door slammed open. A woman was roughly pushed out. She was a young

Mexican, about 22, no breasts, dressed in grey slacks. Her black hair was dirty and scraggly. The man in the van screamed at her: “
YOU
GOD
DAMNED
WHORE!
YOU
SICK
FUCKING
WHORE! I
OUGHTA
KICK
YOUR
STUPID
ASS!”

“
YOU
DUMB
PRICK!” she screamed back. “
YOU
STINK
OF SHIT!”

He leaped out of the van and ran toward her. She ran off toward the liquor store. He saw me, gave up the chase, got back in the van, roared through the parking lot, and then swung off down Hollywood Boulevard.

I walked up to her.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, drive me down to Van Ness. Van Ness and Franklin.”

“All right.”

She got into the Volks and we drove off into Hollywood. I took a right, then a left and we were on Franklin.

“You got a lot of wine, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I think I need a drink.”

“Almost everybody does only they don’t know it.”