Women

Neither of us said anything for a while. I finished my vodka and had another. Valencia just wasn't my type in any sense of the word. I disliked her. There are people like that-immediately upon meeting them you despise them.

"There's a Japanese girl down where I work. She does everything possible to get me fired. I'm in tight with the boss, but this bitch makes the day unpleasant for me. Someday I'm going to stick my foot up her ass."

"Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

"I didn't like Chicago," I said.

"I like Chicago."

I finished my drink, she finished hers. Valencia pushed her bill toward me. "You mind paying for this? I had a shrimp salad too."

I took out my key to unlock the door.

"This your car?"

"Yes."

"You expect me to ride in an old car like that?"

"Look, if you don't want to get in, don't get in."

Valencia got in. She took out her mirror and began making up her face as we drove along. It wasn't far to my place. I parked.

Inside she said, "This place is filthy. You need somebody to fix it up."

I got out the vodka and the 7-UP and poured two drinks. Valencia pulled her boots off.

"Where's your typewriter?"

"On the kitchen table."

"You don't have a desk? I thought writers had desks."

"Some don't even have kitchen tables."

"You been married?" Valencia asked.

"Once."

"What went wrong?"

"We began to hate each other."

"I've been married four times. I still see my ex-husbands. We're friends."

"Drink up."

"You seem nervous," said Valencia.

"I'm all right."

Valencia finished her drink, then stretched out on the couch. She put her head in my lap. I began to stroke her hair. I poured her another drink, and went back to stroking her hair. I could look into her blouse and see her breasts. I leaned over and gave her a long kiss. Her tongue darted in and out of my mouth. I hated her. My cock began to rise. We kissed again and I reached down into her blouse.

"I knew I'd meet you some day," she said.

I kissed her again, this time with some savagery. She felt my cock against her head.

"Hey!" she said.

"It's nothing," I said.

"Like hell," she said. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know…"

"I know."

Valencia got up and went to the bathroom. When she came out she was naked. She got under the bedsheet. I had another drink. Then I undressed and got into bed. I pulled the sheet back. What huge breasts. She was one-half breast. I firmed one up with my hand as best I could and sucked at the nipple. It didn't harden. I went to the other breast and sucked at the nipple. No response. I sloshed her breasts about. I stuck my cock in between them. The nipples remained soft. I shoved my cock at her mouth and she turned her head away. I thought of burning her ass with a cigarette. What a mass of flesh she was. A worn out busted down streetwalker. Whores usually made me hot. My cock was hard but my spirit wasn't in it.

"Are you Jewish?" I asked her.

"No."

"You look Jewish."

"I'm not."

"You live in the Fairfax district, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Are your parents Jewish?"

"Listen, what's all this Jewish shit?"

"Don't feel bad. Some of my best friends are Jewish."

I sloshed her breasts around again.

"You seem frightened," Valencia said. "You seem uptight."

I waved my cock in her face.

"Does that look frightened?"

"It looks horrible. Where'd you get all those big veins?"

"I like them."

I grabbed her by the hair and pressed her head up against the wall and sucked at her teeth while looking into her eyes. Then I began playing with her cunt. She was a long time coming around. Then she began to open and I stuck my finger in. I got to the clit and worked it. Then I mounted. My cock was inside of her. We were actually fucking. I had no desire to please her. Valencia had a fair grip. I was into her pretty good but she didn't seem to be responding. I didn't care. I pumped and pumped. One more fuck. Research. There was no sense of violation involved. Poverty and ignorance bred their own truth. She was mine. We were two animals in the forest and I was murdering her. She was coming around. I kissed her and her lips were finally open. I dug it in. The blue walls watched us. Valencia began making little sounds. That spurred me on.

When she came out of the bathroom I was dressed. There were two drinks on the table. We sipped our drinks.

"How come you live in the Fairfax district?" I asked.

"I like it there."

"Should I drive you home?"

"If you don't mind."

She lived two blocks east of Fairfax. "That's my place there," she said, "with the screen door."

"Looks like a nice place."

"It is. Want to come in for a while?"

"Got anything to drink?"

"Can you drink sherry?"

"Sure…"

We went in. There were towels on the floor. She kicked them under the couch as she walked past. Then she came out with the sherry. It was very cheap stuff.

"Where's your bathroom?" I asked.

I flushed the toilet to cover the sound, then puked the sherry back up. I flushed again and came out.

"Another drink?" she asked.

"Sure."

"The kids came by," she said, "that's why the place is such a mess."

"You've got kids?"

"Yes but Sam is taking care of them."

I finished my drink. "Well, look, thanks for the drinks. I've got to get going."

"All right, you've got my phone number."

"Right."

Valencia walked me to the screen door. We kissed there. Then I walked out to the Volks. I got in and drove off. I circled around the corner, double-parked, opened the door and puked up the other drink.

98

I saw Sara every three or four days, at her place or at mine. We slept together but there was no sex. We came close but we never quite got to it. Drayer Baba's precepts held strong.

We decided to spend the holidays together at my place, Christmas and New Year's.

Sara arrived about noon on the 24th in her Volks van. I watched her park, then went out to meet her. She had lumber tied to the roof of the van. It was to be my Christmas present: she was going to build me a bed. My bed was a mockery: a simple box spring with the i

We carried in the lumber and the turkey and the sundry bits and pieces. I placed the box spring, mattress and headboard outside and put a sign on them: "Free." The head-board went first, the box spring second, and finally somebody took the mattress. It was a poor neighborhood.

I had seen Sara's bed at her place, slept in it, and had liked it. I had always disliked the average mattress, at least the ones I was able to buy. I had spent over half my life in beds which were better suited for somebody shaped like an angleworm.

Sara had built her own bed, and she was to build me another like it. A solid wood platform supported by 7 four-by-four legs (the seventh directly in the middle) topped by a layer of firm 4-inch foam. Sara had some good ideas. I held the boards and Sara drove home the nails. She was good with a hammer. She only weighed 105 pounds but she could drive a nail. It was going to be a fine bed.

It didn't take Sara long.

Then we tested it-non-sexually-as Drayer Baba smiled over us.

We drove around looking for a Christmas tree. I wasn't too anxious to get a tree (Christmas had always been an unhappy time in my childhood) and when we found all the lots empty, the lack of a tree didn't bother me. Sara was unhappy as we drove back. But after we got in and had a few glasses of white wine she regained her spirits and went about hanging Christmas ornaments, lights, and tinsel everywhere, some of the tinsel in my hair.