“How bizarre.”
“I must of had something on my mind.”
“So it would seem,” he said. The VW engine died, and she heard a car door open and close. Warren reached for her, and she went to him. She was still off-balance and uncertain until his mouth found hers. Then her lips parted for his tongue, and her body pressed against him and her uncertainties dissolved in the familiar assurance of passion.
She heard the door open and tensed momentarily when Bert entered the room. But Warren did not release her so she returned to the security of his embrace. One of his hands closed on her buttock, squeezing, and his leg insinuated itself between hers. His thigh pressed her pubic mound and she felt his erection against her stomach. Bert moved around the room, dimming lights, stacking records on the stereo. She heard piano music thought at first that he was playing, then realized it was a record.
Warren had both his hands on her behind now, holding her in an almost painful grip and rotating his lips, grinding himself against her. She put her tongue tentatively into his mouth and he sucked on it immediately, and in her mind’s eye she saw him sucking thus upon a penis and her head swam. Hands opened the clasp of her dress at the nape of her neck. She thought they were Warren’s hands at first, but Warren’s hands still gripped her buttocks, and she realized it was Bert who was now undoing her zipper and easing her dress over her shoulder. Warren went on kissing her and Bert was tugging the dress free from her body and kissing the back of her neck. His hands moved in front of her, moved between her body and Warren’s and found her breasts. Her dress had dropped to the floor and Warren’s hands once again found her buttocks, stroking, pulling and pressing while Bert kneaded her breasts.
Warren released her, disengaged himself. He took a step backward and she swayed for him but Bert caught her and spun her toward him. He was naked. She had not realized this before. Her eyes darted immediately to his penis. He was erect, his penis very long and quite slender. Her hands reached for his penis as he drew her close and kissed her. She tried to insert him but he was too tall, so she settled for leaning against him and rubbing herself against the base of his penis.
Behind her she heard Warren undressing. She went on rubbing against Bert, trying desperately to reach an orgasm. She was almost there, almost there, when Bert released her and gave her back to Warren.
“Oh, God, fuck me,” she said.
“Patience, little one.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“We’ll both fuck you, little one. Just be patient. The night is young.”
“I can’t wait—”
“All hot and bothered?” His finger found her, penetrated. “Oh, yes, very warm indeed.” He held his finger out to Bert, and she saw Bert take Warren’s finger into his mouth and suck the taste of her from it. It seemed to her the most erotic gesture she had ever seen in her life. Her knees were weak. She could barely stand on her feet, and she swayed again, and Warren caught her.
On the stereo Dave Van Ronk sang:
Mama, Mama, take a look at Sis
She’s down on the levee and she’s dancin’ like this
Now come here, Sis, and come here fas’
And leave off shakin’ your yaas-yas-yas … .
They were walking her to the bedroom. Warren was on her right and Bert on her left and each had an arm around her waist, like two men helping a drunken friend home. And she felt drunk, dizzy drunk. Her arms hung loose at her side. As they reached the bedroom she reached out with both hands at the same time and took hold of a penis in each hand. Warren’s was thicker, she noted almost clinically, while Bert’s was longer. Her hands worked rhythmically, pumping both organs simultaneously. They walked her over to the big double bed. The covers were already turned down. Hands lifted her, placed her in the middle of the bed. She squirmed, unable to stay still, but they did not come to her. Instead she stared as they embraced at the side of the bed. She watched them kiss, watched Warren’s hands roam Bert’s body, watched Bert’s hands on Warren’s penis.
Mr. Dillinger drove up to a gasoline station
He said, “This looks like a mighty fine location.”
The attendant said, “Do you want any gas?”
“Well, it’s either your gas or your yaas-yas-yas… .”
Somehow she had not expected that they would kiss each other. The specifically sexual acts she had had no trouble anticipating, visualizing, but she had not expected this sort of loveplay. At first it simply astonished her. Then she found it adding to her own excitement She had never been a spectator at other people’s love-making before.
But they did not ignore her for long. They drew apart—reluctantly, it seemed to her—and they joined her on the bed, one on each side of her. Two mouths began to kiss her while four hands acquainted themselves with her body. She closed her eyes and abandoned herself to sensation. A mouth on each of her breasts, both of them sucking her at once. Hands everywhere, fingers in her lower parts, both front and back, both of these powerful men busying themselves with all of her.
Oh, way down yonder in St. Augustine
A black cat sat down on a sewin’ machine
Now that machine, it sewed so fas’
It took ninety-nine stitches in his yaas-yas-yas….
She had a whole little fleet of orgasms, one coming right after another. All they had to do to bring her off was touch her and they never stopped touching her. But her climaxes in no sense slowed her down. Instead they spurred her on, increasing her need for an ultimate release.
She lay with her eyes clenched shut, her hands knotted into fists at her side. A penis pressed against her lips and her mouth gaped to accept it. Another penis slithered into her vagina. She nursed on one while the other pounded at her. They both were taken away from her, and she writhed desperately until the two had changed places; one, moist with her saliva, slipped into her just as the other, slick with her juices, filled her mouth.
Until at last she was between them. Warren lay on his back and she was crouched over him, his cock buried in her cunt, and she felt Bert’s hand on her buttocks and strained to open herself to accommodate him. Sully had used her thus in the past and she had learned to make herself accessible that way. Even so it was painful at first. She fought the pain and squirmed, impaled on Warren, and then Bert was within her as well and she was filled fore and aft, filled utterly, and it was as though she had spent all her life until that moment empty.
They moved in perfect unison, like performers in a ballet, matching their strokes, thrusting and parrying expertly. She felt them on either side of the narrow membrane separating her two cavities, felt them touching each other through the medium of her flesh. Their heads were to the side of hers and their mouths were glued together; they kissed each other deeply while they plunged together in and out of her body. She felt at once utterly apart from what was taking place and simultaneously caught up in a level in involvement she had never before known.
Sully they are fucking me one in my ass and one in my cunt and I am all filled up with cock I am overflowing with cock I am rippling like a bed of hot lava they are fucking the life out of me the soul out of me the hell out of me they are fucking the hell out of me Sully God oh God oh God I am on fire I am burning I am melting I am dying oh God fucking God fucking God—
There was a hole in the middle of the world and she fell right through it.
When she opened her eyes Bert was sitting on the side of the bed holding a cold cloth to her forehead. Warren was in a chair with a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
She said, “What happened?”
“You left us for awhile,” Warren said.
“I passed out?”
“That’s a more direct way of putting it.”
“That never happened before.” She pushed the cloth aside and sat up. “Jesus Christ,” she said.
“How do you feel?”
“That’s hard to say, A little dizzy. Have you got a cigarette? Thanks. I feel terrific. M
y God.”
“I knew you’d be good, Melanie Melontits. I didn’t know you’d be this good.”
“Well, life has its little surprises. Jesus. It’s so completely different.” —
“What is?”
“Three.”
“You never—”
“No, never. It’s a whole new world.”
“Another dimension.”
“Yeah, right.”
Warren drained his glass and approached the bed. “You have a fantastic body,” he told her. He reached out a hand, took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve never had any enormous predilection for breasts per se. Not since infancy, at any rate. But your breasts have an undeniable appeal. They have character.”
“Watch it, you’ll get me started again.”
“This is nice, too. So warm and so tight. You’ve had children, have you?”
“No.”
“Never have them. Disgusting little beasts. They’d stretch this all out of shape, and that would be a dismal shame. Have you ever considered shaving this?”
“Are you serious?”
“You ought to think about it. Give it some serious consideration. Not that this fur is without its own special charm, but if you shaved it you would look like a little girl down there. And think how much more sensitive you’d be without that hair getting in the way.”
“I’m too damn sensitive as it is. Hey, don’t do that. You’ll get me all worked up.”
“You mean this will get you worked up?”
“Jesus—”
“Why, that’s the whole idea, you silly thing!”
“Hey!” She drew away. “I’ve got to get home.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Melanie. The night’s a pup. Not even housebroken. You’ve got hours.”
“I—”
Warren took her chin in his hand, tilted her head, and looked down into her eyes. Bert was sitting impassively at her side.
“One time’s not enough,” Warren said levelly. “You know that, don’t you?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Why, Bert and I have been boggling down Vitamin E all day long in preparation for the great event. And you’re hot as a cheap stove, Melanie. But there’s something you’re afraid of, isn’t there?”
She nodded.
“Do you want to say what it is? Never mind, I don’t think you have to. So let me tell you a thing or three. You don’t have to worry that Bert and I are going to wind up owning your soul. Is that part of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because this is just one night. There won’t be any repeats. This is not how we normally live, Melanie. We normally live normally, as it happens. This is excess. There is a place for excess, anything worth doing is worth doing to excess, but even excess has a place and must be kept in its place. Are any of my words penetrating that charming little dumpling of a head?”
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Warren.”
“As a matter of fact I think you’re probably brighter than you know yourself, Melanie.” He looked away for a moment, then fixed his eyes on hers again. “To continue. This is one night and that’s all. So we might as well use it all up while we have the chance. And we will not talk about this, Melanie. Not to your husband, not to anyone else.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
“It’s probably something you should worry about. Not in our case, but generally.”
“That’s my business.”
“Of course it is. What are you worried about, Melanie?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re trying to think. That’s the whole problem, you know.”
“Is it?”
“Of course. Women aren’t designed to think. Men think, women feel. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Oh.”
“And now I’ll play with you some more to keep your little mind out of mischief. What a sweet little cunt you are. Why don’t you give Bert some head while I do this? He generally likes it. That’s right. You have an aptitude for this sort of thing, don’t you, Melanie? A rare attribute among women. Don’t be shy, go right ahead. One of us will be sure to tell you if you do anything wrong.”
It was after four when she left. Warren and Bert backed their cars out of the driveway, then pulled in again after she had driven off. They walked back to the house in silence.
Bert said, “I really felt like putting clothes on and doing an automobile juggling act.”
“You could have given her the keys and told her to move them herself.”
“You know I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
“Oh, I know that, all right. God, isn’t she incredible?”
“That’s a good word for her.”
“Absolutely incredible. Now she goes back home to the hairy old bear with sperm running out of every part of her. I can’t understand why she wouldn’t shower.”
“Maybe she likes to smell like a whorehouse towel.”
“What a thought.”
“Well, to go home to her husband like that—”
“Maybe he’s not living at home. Or maybe she said she was spending the night with a girlfriend and she’s on her way to a motel or some such. Lord, her eyes were swimming in sperm.”
“That’s a beautiful image.”
“Henry Miller thought of it first. Although I’m sure it would have occurred to me sooner or later. It would probably have occurred to me tonight, as a matter of fact. I wonder what’s going to happen to that little girl.”
“No more than she deserves, I trust.”
“And no less, I hope.” Warren sighed heavily. “Actually I think we ought to adopt her. We could keep her as a pet. Dress her in pretty clothes—”
“Walk her on a leash—”
“Don’t be such a bitch. She’d be fun to have around, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think my heart could take it.”
“Christ, nor mine either. I don’t want to so much as hear the word ‘fuck’ for at least a month.”
“Well, you won’t hear it from me.”
“I couldn’t abide as much as a handshake. Unlike Miss Melontits, I think I’m going to treat myself to a shower. My skin has a skin of its own and I just hope soap and water will get rid of it. Perhaps I ought to use Clorox. Ugh. I don’t want company in the shower, in case you thought that might be a cozy idea.”
“I think it’s a revolting idea. You’re perfectly safe in the shower. Just don’t use all the hot water.”
“Bert?”
“Hmm?”
“A memorable evening, what?”
“It’s been that. It’s certainly been that.”
She had intended to drive straight home. Halfway there she was shaking so badly she had to stop the car, She pulled the car over to the side and gripped the steering wheel tight in both hands.
Images battered her mind. She thought of everything that had happened, saw it all as if it were a movie, tried to find a way to fit herself into the picture. It was hard to do this. She could see herself in that movie but she could not understand how it had been her.
She turned the car around, found an all-night diner on 202 and stopped for a cup of coffee. All she wanted to do was to get home to Sully, but she knew that if she went home right away she wouldn’t be in shape to see him. She smoked and drank two cups of coffee and felt the aspects of herself beginning to fit themselves together again.
Before it had consistently been Sully who had been shaken by the new direction their lives had taken. She had been quite calm, quite unshaken. If anything she had wondered at her evident ability to take everything in her stride.
Now things had changed.
She paid the check, ignored the speculative stare of the rheumy-eyed cashier. She did not need his glance to tell her what she looked like. She could guess well enough what she looked like.
I get too hungry for dinner at eight
Go to the theater, but never come la
te
I never bother with people I hate …
That’s why the lady is a tramp …
That was the song he had played when she walked into the Carversville Inn, and no one could have believed it was coincidental. It had begun as a tactic, a way of holding onto her husband, but after tonight there was no pretending that it was only that. It had become more, much more. She had discovered an appetite she had never realized she had, and every time she fed it it grew stronger, more intense more demanding.
That’s why the lady is a tramp
Back into the car, back on the road. She pictured Sully in his chair, eyes dull, but the dullness backed by a hidden glint of anticipation, the ashtray beside him overflowing with butts, his hand wrapped around a cup of coffee or a glass of applejack.
Waiting for her.
That’s why the lady
She saw herself springing from the ear; hurrying to the door and into the house. The question in his eyes, a- quick shake of her head. And urgently she would say to him, “No, not now, I can’t talk about it now. Just hold me, baby. Just grab me and hold me, just hold me, just take me upstairs and fuck me, do everything to me, fuck me, just fuck me, I can’t talk now, not now, just fuck me.”
the lady is
And then she was home, and out of the car and into the house, and he was sitting as she had pictured him, the expression on his face precisely the expression she had visualized.
But she was saying, “Hi, baby. Is there more coffee? Don’t get up, I’ll get it myself.”
And sitting with coffee in the chair across from him; she elaborately crossed one leg over the other and let her tongue play with her upper lip.
“Who?” he said.
“Oh, it was the oddest thing,” she said lightly. “I was shopping this morning, and I was walking along Main Street to where I parked the car, and—”
“Who was it?”
“Oh, I’ll get to that,” she said.
The Trouble with Eden Page 30