by Orrie Hitt
“Once in a while.”
“You never used to.”
“People change.”
“I think you have.”
“Why should I be an exception?”
She had changed, changed a great deal. From an almost innocent girl she had become a girl who posed for nude photographs, who in a way made sex her business. She had changed even as far as her singing and dancing were concerned. They no longer seemed quite so important. Money was important and she was making money, as much as she needed. And Tom Lester was important, too. That she did not understand. In some ways he wasn’t the man Joe had been but he was satisfactory. Yet sometimes she left him to find an intense and nameless longing haunting her. She did not understand that, either, and out of her confusion she had turned to liquor, trying to find some answer with the aid of the amber fluid. But there seemed to be no answer — or, if there was, she had been unable to find it.
“Fancy neighborhood,” Joe said when they got to the apartment house on Gordon Road.
“It’ll do.”
“You must be coining the dough.”
“I manage to get by.”
He carried the bags for her and as soon as they were in the apartment she opened some of the windows. She hadn’t paid too much attention to the apartment before but she noticed now that it was neat and clean and the furniture, although not new, looked adequate.
Joe sat down on the davenport and stretched his legs.
“Too bad you don’t have something to drink,” he said.
“Maybe next time.”
His eyes lit up.
“Can I visit you here?”
“We’ll see. I don’t know yet.”
“You have to have a debate with yourself to decide that?”
“Almost.”
There wasn’t much breeze coming from the open windows and she wished that she could take off her dress. Doing that in front of Joe would cause quite a sensation. He would have her in the bedroom before she could breathe twice.
“I don’t know why you don’t marry me,” Joe said. “You’re going off in all directions at once.”
“We’ve been over that before.”
He pulled his legs up and sat very straight.
“We can go over it again. Why not? I told you about this new route. We would get along easily on what I make. If you didn’t want to live in with my parents we could afford another place.”
“Please, Joe.”
“Hell, I’m serious. What do you think it’s been like for me this past month? I come over to the house for you and you’re gone. Then I find out you’re hitting the bottle. Something’s wrong. Something’s dead wrong, Cherry.”
“I have to work things out in my own way, Joe.”
“And taking this apartment is a start?”
“It’s a start.”
“I don’t get it.” He laughed. “I don’t get it in more ways than one.”
“Now, Joe.”
“You think a man forgets those things? I don’t. I was good enough for you before. Why am I not good enough for you now?”
She was sorry that she hadn’t taken a cab. All this would have been avoided.
“Thanks for driving me down,” she said. “And we’ll see what happens.”
He got to his feet.
“But don’t count on yes as an answer?”
“No, don’t count on it.”
He left a few minutes later and she removed her clothes, all of them. There was a big mirror in the bedroom and she stood before it, looking at herself. Yes, she had a good body, a fine body, a body that men would pay to see. How many sets of photos had been made of her? She didn’t know. Possibly a hundred. Some had been completely in the nude and some had followed her movements as she undressed. It was when she was in the nude that she drove Tom crazy.
“I can’t get enough of you, baby. Not enough.”
“You’re doing all right.”
“But it isn’t enough.”
And it wasn’t, not even for her. He knew how to make love and he was everything a girl could ask for but she didn’t always respond to him. Sometimes it was as though she were in another world, had become another person, and she felt nothing at all. Oh, she felt his mouth on her lips, his arms lifting her to him but the rest was emptiness.
“Give me love, Tom!”
He tried again and again but it had little effect. The moans that came from her were faked, her apparent passion a fabrication for his benefit. When he was done she would tell him he had made her happy, but that was always a lie. It had been true only the first time.
“Men,” Millie had commented one day. “They make me sick.”
She and Cherry had been sitting together in a bar having a few drinks.
“Two hundred and fifty bucks,” Millie had said. “That’s what the judge fined me. For a lewd performance, he called it. Wonder what he would say if he knew what I was doing now.”
Cherry turned from the mirror, pressing her hands down over her belly. There was nothing there, no growing thing. She doubted very much if she would ever have a baby. Then she corrected herself. Someday she might meet a man and fall in love, a man who could awaken her and bring her alive. She wished that this man, whoever he was, was with her now. The bed was big and wide and it looked soft. She would take him into her arms, and she would be good, so good, to him. She would tell him her fears, her secret desires, and then she would prove to him — and to herself — that she was a normal girl.
All thought of taking a nap was gone from Cherry’s mind. She was no longer tired. There was something wrong with her, something terribly wrong. The hours spent making love with Tom should mean something. They did in one way. But in another, more important way, they meant nothing. She would be anxious for him, wanting him, and then, when he took her, the torrent inside her would fail to be stilled. She would plead and beg until he was exhausted — and she was, too; exhausted but not satisfied. What must he think of her? Other girls had told her that the final joy lasted only minutes, glorious, unforgettable minutes. Somehow she was different, vastly different.
It was early, much too early to go down to the photo shop, and Cherry began dressing slowly. She had noticed a bar down the street, a quiet-looking place, and she would have a few drinks there. Drinking, she reflected, didn’t solve anything but it did make things easier. If she could take on enough whiskey she could forget what she was and what she was doing.
She locked the apartment door and walked outside. The sun was hot and she was glad that she had worn a light dress. She knew that the white material clung to her, that the pink bra — she would have to get some white ones — was plainly visible.
The bar was a small place and it was air-conditioned. There was only one man at the bar, an old man, and he was drinking beer. She sat down on one of the stools and ordered a rum Collins.
“You’re new around here, aren’t you, miss?” the bartender asked.
“Yes, I’m new.”
“Glad to have you with us.”
She had several rum collins, each drink seeming to taste better than the one before. She thought of eating supper and discarded the notion. She wasn’t due at the shop until nine and after work she would get something to eat. Or drink. More than likely it would be drink — or drinks. It usually was. But she would stop each time before she lost control; she always knew what she was doing. Men had tried to pick her up and she had refused. She had gone far enough down the ladder and she wasn’t going any further. There were girls in the city who sold their favors but she would never become one of them.
“Hi.”
She looked up from her drink, breaking her chain of thought.
“Well, for gosh sakes!” she exclaimed when she saw Millie Cain. “You’re the last person in the world I expected to meet here.”
Millie sat down on the next stool. She was wearing a very daring red dress and her hair hung low over her shoulders.
“You gave me your phone number. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” Millie had asked for the number. “But that wouldn’t do you any good now.”
Millie ordered a rye on the rooks.
“Well, it did. Some boy drove you up here and he gave your address to your folks. I got it from them. When you weren’t in your new apartment I looked for the nearest bar.”
“You looked in the right place.”
Millie frowned.
“Can I tell you something?” She sounded very serious.
“Why not?”
“You don’t belong here. A few drinks are okay but you’ve been belting it pretty hard.”
“Let me decide that, won’t you?” Cherry felt slightly angry.
“Oh, sure. It’s just an honest thought.”
Cherry recognized the truth of the statement. Why did she drink so much? Was it because of what she was doing? She had the money to go on to New York. Why didn’t she go? But she knew why she didn’t go. The money she was making held her fast to Northtown. She was doing better than she could ever hope to do, singing or dancing.
“Forgive me,” Cherry said, pushing her glass across the bar. “I took off from the family today and it wasn’t very pleasant.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“They were nice to me but I couldn’t go on with it. I had that factory job and it was terrible. If I had stayed home the folks would have wanted to know where I got my money. This way they don’t have to know.”
The bartender filled up their glasses again and Millie lit a cigarette.
“I like it around here,” she said. “Do you know of any apartments for rent?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m out of the place where I was staying. Some John I had up there last night pitched a bottle through a closed window and the owner of the house didn’t like it. I was paid up until the end of the month but he gave back the money and told me to get out. So I got out.”
“Where are your things?”
“In a locker in the bus station.”
Cherry was silent for a moment, thinking. There was enough room in her apartment for both of them. They would have to share the same bed but that was no problem. And it would help with the expenses. With living costs split down the middle they would both save money.
“I like it,” Millie said after Cherry had outlined her plan. “It makes a lot of sense.”
“I think so.”
“What if I invite a man up some night?”
“There’s a door to the bedroom and I think the davenport opens into a bed.”
“Then it’s a deal.”
They ordered fresh drinks to seal the bargain.
Something new was beginning for Cherry.
Chapter Nine
LIVING WITH Millie was fun. They slept late every morning and made breakfast in the small kitchen, taking turns at fixing the coffee and buying the rolls from a little store nearby.
“I wished we worked the some hours,” Millie said. “It would be better that way.”
“Yes, but we can’t. You do one thing and I do another.”
Cherry posed early in the evening for nudes and Millie worked at the barn outside of town later at night. Tom had taken some nudes of Millie, but primarily he used her in the movies. Her partners were both men and women but she seldom spoke about what went on. She finished at midnight or one o’clock and sometimes Cherry met her in the bar down the street for a few drinks. Since moving in with Cherry, Millie hadn’t dated any men and they slept together in the big bed.
“That Tom is a riot,” Millie said one morning. “He pays you to work and he thinks he buys your body along with it. Last night I told him to go to hell. I told him if he wanted for himself what nature had given me he paid extra just like anybody else.”
“And did he?”
“Are you kidding? He’s got more sluts than a bull has cows. Some of those girls would go to bed with any man any time. He doesn’t have to pay to get what he wants.”
Cherry had met a few of the girls. Most of them were tough and pretty and one was pregnant. The pregnant girl was only nineteen and had not the slightest idea who the father was.
“How long can this go on?” Cherry asked Millie. “I mean, won’t the police catch up with Tom?”
Cherry worried about that. And the more involved she became, the more she worried. But when she thought of the money she was making the worries stopped. She was doing very well; there was little she wanted that she couldn’t afford to buy.
“He can go on for years,” Millie said. “The pictures will run into trouble here and there but if he has covered his tracks well enough they won’t get to him.”
“I just hope they don’t get to us.”
“What if they do? They just give you a lecture and let you go. Sometimes you get a fine but with what we earn we can afford a fine. If Tom folds, all you do is find somebody else in the same business. There are lots of guys doing this kind of stuff, mostly in the big cities. As long as you’ve got the looks and the figure you can get the work.”
Millie had a fine figure, herself; Cherry liked to look at it. Millie’s breasts were wide apart and rounded and the rest of her body was a mass of curves. Nights, as they prepared for bed, Cherry would get out of her clothes quickly so that she could lie down and watch Millie undress. Her throat would get dry and thick and her head would start to pound. It wasn’t the feeling she had with men. This was different, a feeling that sent a storm through her blood, a storm that raged long after the lights were out. More than once she had awakened to find her hands on those wonderful breasts, sensing them becoming hard under her touch. The previous night had been worse than any of the others. She had been roused from a light sleep by anxious hands that had sought her body. She had spoken Millie’s name but there had been no answer. She had decided that Millie was asleep and had tingled with delight at the hands’ touch on her flesh. Now that it was morning and they were in the kitchen she tried to forget about it. All those incidents had been accidents and meant nothing.
“The heck with this coffee,” Cherry said, getting up. “I’m going to have a drink.”
“So early in the day?”
“Well, the coffee is cold and the heat in here is terrible.”
“Pour me one, too.”
She found the bottle on a shelf and took ice from the refrigerator. She made the drinks tall and strong and carried them over to the table. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly twelve. That wasn’t so bad. She usually started drinking around two. The drinks helped when she got down to the photo shop. She was more relaxed and if Tom made love to her she was able to endure him.
“I hope my kid is all right,” Millie said.
“How old is he?”
“He must be almost five now.”
“You had him young.”
“Young enough to be stupid.” She lifted her drink, smiling faintly. “The poppa lied to me all over the lot. First he said he was single and then he said he had been hurt in the service and that he couldn’t give me a child. Neither was true. He was married and he gave me a kid right off the bat. My folks were furious with me — I guess they had a right to be — but as long as I keep sending them money they’ll keep on taking care of the kid. When they’re gone, when they die, I don’t know what I’ll do. It isn’t in me to bring up a child.”
“You could hire somebody.”
“I’d have to. The life I lead isn’t anything for a growing boy to see.”
“He wouldn’t have to know what you do.”
“I’d never tell him. But someday he’d find out. You can’t get away with this stuff forever. There’s always a price for what you do and someday you have to pay it. I just don’t want the kid to be part of what I pay.”
“I feel the same way,” Cherry said. “I try to tell myself that this will go on and on but I know that it won’t. I just want to be out of it when the law hits.”
“You won’t be. Tom won’t let you. Once you get started with this stuff yo
u’re in it all the way.”
They finished their drinks and Millie fixed two more. Then they moved into the living room, hoping that it would be cooler, but it wasn’t. There was no breeze coming through the open windows and the fan had burned out.
“No use being uncomfortable,” Millie said, sliding out of her robe. “Hell, we’re all alone and we might as well get down to our skin.”
Cherry agreed and removed her robe. They sat on the davenport, drinking and talking. They always talked about the same things — Tom Lester and men in general.
“I hate men,” Millie said.
“But you go out with them.”
“For money, yes. The one time it wasn’t for money I had the baby. I was trying to prove something to myself, something that I never did prove.”
“What was that?”
“That I was meant to love a man.”
Their glasses were empty again and Cherry brought the bottle and the ice in from the kitchen. What if she did get a little high? It didn’t matter. She got high every day and still she managed to pose the way she was supposed to pose.
“Tom’s after you,” Millie said suddenly.
“What?”
“I said that Tom’s after you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because of the way you’re built. A man like Tom wouldn’t pass you up. Hell, he’d be out of his mind if he did.”
“I might have something to say about that.”
“Not much. You’re new at this and he could take advantage of you.”
Cherry thought of confiding in Millie but it didn’t seem right. Many girls she had known had discussed their sexual experiences but she had never wanted to. What happened between a boy and a girl was deeply personal and not a matter for public knowledge.
“Have another drink,” Millie said.
“I guess I will.”
“Don’t let Tom bother you. It’s nothing new. Any girl who goes into this business has to put up with a man. In one way or another,” she added. “How do you think I feel about the movies? I hate them. But I do as Tom tells me — ”
“I doubt if I could do that.”
“You will. See if you don’t. He’ll wave the money in front of your face and you’ll go for it. Why do you think I do it? Not because I want to. I do it for the money.”