Women

She didn't answer. I kissed her on the cheek and got out. She drove off in the M.G. It was, after all, as Lydia had often said, "If you want to drink, drink; if you want to fuck, throw the bottle away."

My problem was that I wanted to do both.

88

So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie.

"What are you doing, Hank?"

"Just sitting around…"

"Why don't you come over?"

"I'd like to…"

She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A.

"I have plenty to drink," she said. "You needn't bring anything."

"Maybe I shouldn't drink anything?"

"It's all right."

"If you pour it, I'll drink it. If you don't, I won't."

"Don't worry about it," she said.

I got dressed, jumped into the Volks, and drove to the address. How many breaks did a man have coming? The gods were good to me, of late. Maybe it was a test? Maybe it was a trick? Fatten Chinaski up, then slice him in half. I knew that might be coming too. But what can you do after a couple of 8-counts with only 2 rounds left to go?

Cassie's apartment was on the second floor. She seemed glad to see me. A large black dog leaped on me. He was huge and floppy and male. He stood with his paws on my shoulders and licked my face. I pushed him off. He stood there wiggling his butt and making begging sounds. He had long black hair and appeared to be a mongrel, but what a big one he was.

"That's Elton," said Cassie.

She went to the refrigerator and got the wine.

"This is what you should drink. I've got plenty of it."

She was dressed in an all-green gown which clung tightly to her. She was like a snake. She had on shoes sequined with green stones, and once again I noticed how long her hair was, not only long but full, there was such a mass of it. It came down at least to her ass. Her eyes were large and blue-green, sometimes more blue than green, sometimes the other way around, depending upon how the light hit them. I noticed two of my books in her bookcase, two of the better ones.

Cassie sat down, opened the wine and poured two.

"We kind of met somehow during that last encounter, we touched somewhere. I didn't want to let it go," she said.

"I enjoyed it," I said.

"Want an upper?"

"All right," I said.

She brought out two. Black cap. The best. I sent mine down with the wine.

"I've got the best dealer in town. He doesn't rip me off," she said.

"Good."

"You ever been hooked?" she asked.

"I tried coke for a while, but I couldn't stand the comedown. I was afraid to go into the kitchen the next day because there was a butcher knife in there. Besides, 50 to 75 bucks a day is beyond me.

"I've got some coke." I pass.

She poured more wine.

I don't know why, but with each new woman it seemed like the first time, almost as if I had never been with a woman before. I kissed Cassie. As I kissed her I let one hand run through all that long hair.

"Want some music?"

"No, not really."

"You knew Dee Dee Bronson, didn't you?" Cassie asked.

"Yes, we split."

"You heard what happened to her?"

"No."

"First she lost her job, then she went to Mexico. She met a retired bullfighter. The bullfighter beat the shit out of her and took her life savings, $7,000."

"Poor Dee Dee: from me to that."

Cassie got up. I watched her walk across the room. Her ass moved and shimmered under that tight green gown. She came back with papers and some grass. She rolled a joint.

"Then she got in a car crash."

"She never could drive. Do you know her well?"

"No. But we hear about things in the industry."

"Just living until you die is hard work," I said.

Cassie passed the joint. "Your life seems in order," she said.

"Really?"

"I mean, you don't come on or try to impress like some men. And you seem naturally fu

"I like your ass and your hair," I said, "and your lips and your eyes and your wine and your place and your joints. But I'm not in order."

"You write a lot about women."

"I know. I wonder sometimes what I will write about after that."

"Maybe it won't stop."

"Everything stops."

"Let me have some of that joint."

"Sure, Cassie."

She took a hit and then I kissed her. I pulled her head back by the hair. I forced her lips open. It was a long one. Then I let her go.

"You like that, don't you?" she asked.

"To me it's more personal and sexual than fucking."

"I think you're right," she said.

We smoked and drank for several hours, then went to bed. We kissed and played. I was good and hard and I stroked her well, but after ten minutes I knew I wasn't going to make it. Too much to drink again. I began to sweat and strain. I stroked some more, then rolled off.

"I'm sorry, Cassie…"

I watched her head move down to my penis. It was still hard. She began licking it. The dog jumped up on the bed and I kicked him off. I watched Cassie licking my cock. The moonlight came through the window and I could see her clearly. She took the end of my dick in her mouth and just nibbled at it. Suddenly she went for it all and she worked well, ru

I reached down and grabbed her hair with one hand and held it up, held it high over her head, all that hair, as she sucked on my cock. It lasted a long time but finally I could feel myself getting ready to come. She sensed it too and redoubled her efforts. I began making whimpering sounds and I could hear the big dog whimpering on the rug along with me. I liked that. I held back as long as I could to prolong the pleasure. Then, still holding and caressing her hair, I exploded in her mouth.

When I awakened the next morning Cassie was getting dressed.

"That's all right," she said, "you can stay. Just be sure you lock the door when you leave."

"All right."

After she left I took a shower. Then I found a beer in the refrigerator, drank that, dressed, said goodbye to Elton, made sure the door was locked, got into the Volks and drove back home.

89

Three or four days later I found her note and phoned Debra. She said, "Come on over." She gave me the directions to Playa del Rey and I drove over. She had a small rented house with a front yard. I drove into the front yard, got out of the car and knocked, then rang. It was one of those two-tone bells. Debra opened the door. She was as I remembered her, with enormous lipstick mouth, short hairdo, bright earrings, perfume, and almost always, that wide smile.

"Oh, come in, Henry!"

I did. There was a guy sitting there but he was obviously a homosexual so it wasn't really an affront.

"This is Larry, my neighbor. He lives in the house in back."

We shook hands and I sat down.

"Is there anything to drink?" I asked.

"Oh, Henry!"

"I can go get something. I would have, only I didn't know what you wanted."

"Oh, I have something."

Debra went into the kitchen.

"How are you doing?" I asked Larry.

"I haven't been doing well, but I'm doing better. I'm into self-hypnosis. It's done marvels for me."

"Do you want anything to drink, Larry?" asked Debra from the kitchen.

"Oh no, thanks…"

Debra came out with two glasses of red wine. Debra's house was over-decorated. There was something everywhere. It was expensively cluttered and there seemed to be rock music coming from every direction out of little speakers.

"Larry's practicing self-hypnosis."

"He told me."

"You don't know how much better I'm sleeping, you don't know how much better I'm relating," Larry said.