“No,” Maria spoke, shaking herself out of her fascinated immobility engendered by these two striking individuals.
“We came by to check on you, Ma. Because of that shit thing. I brought Maria along,” Sophia said, seeing that Maria was overwhelmed by the scene, frozen in place.
“You know Maria used to be a CIA agent.”
Four troubled eyes stared at Maria.
“You two are what I would call a powerful couple. Sophia tells me you’re divorced, but I think you’re meant to be together. I can’t see either of you with anyone else.” Maria had thawed and reanimated.
“Especially the two specimens they’re with now. Well, you saw the clown,” Sophia said.
“Don’t get hysterical, Zophia,” Max said.
“Leave Rudy alone,” Ada retorted.
“Are you two getting back together?” Sophia asked. Even at age forty-three she wanted Mommy and Daddy together again.
No one answered her.
Ada was bustling around the kitchen, accumulating a surfeit of food. She emerged with raisin pumpernickel, marble rye, butter, cream cheese, farmer cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions. Then she barreled back into the kitchen to retrieve rugalach, chocolate bubka, and Danish. Only to turn around again and return, weighed down with pickles, sardines, nova, whitefish, and smoked mackerel. Her final trip was for two more glass mugs with steaming water into which she plopped two Swee-Touch-Nee tea bags. The Formica top was snowed under the avalanche of food.
Ada pointed Maria to a chair at the table and said, “Ess, ess,” while handing her a milky green Fiesta ware plate.
Maria proceeded to devour the bread, interjecting, “The pumpernickel reminds me of Russia,” between bites. “Got any borscht?” Maria asked.
Ada and Max swiveled their heads to scrutinize Maria with renewed interest.
Ada rose up and returned with borscht.
“I was only kidding, Ma,” Maria said, digging in to the borscht nonetheless.
Ada bustled back to the kitchen, returning with sour cream, which she thrust at Maria.
“Never heard of this tea, though. Sounds Chinese,” Maria continued.
“It’s Russian. They fucked up the name,” Sophia said, becoming more and more disgruntled as Maria warmed up to her parents.
“Did you hunt Nazis?” Max asked, glaring into the past.
“Ta. Can I call you Ta? I was in service way after World War Two. How old do I look?” Maria asked, astonished.
“You never stop hunting Nazis. They’re everywhere. America, South America, everywhere.”
“Okay, but it’s nineteen ninety-nine. Fifty-four years later.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re around,” Ta said, peering out the window as if a cohort of Nazis in full immaculate regalia, with deaths’ heads on their spiffy caps, shod in shiny leather boots, were goose-stepping below the grimy, sea salt streaked window.
“Do you want some Slivovitz?” Ta asked, deciding to treat Maria as a guy worthy of a shot of fire water.
“If it’s alcohol, the answer is yes.”
“Plum brandy. Polish,” Ta said, getting up to fetch the brandy and two shot glasses, eliciting a few giggles from Sophia.
“The robe drapes so beautifully,” Sophia couldn’t resist.
“Okay, Zophia. Enough.”
“Don’t I get any?” Sophia asked, watching Ta pour a shot for Maria.
“You don’t drink it unless you’re sick,” Ta said.
“Well, I’d like some now,” she said, petulant.
“Don’t get up, Ta. I’ll get a glass,” Maria offered.
“What about you, Ma? Want a shot?” Maria asked.
“No. But finish your borscht like a good boy,” Ada said. “I’ll go.”
“Your daughter has taken to calling me boy too.”
“You look like a boy. Even with your pretty face. You say you’re a lesbian. What’s between your legs? A ponchka?” Ada asked.
“Ma! What a question. That’s so rude.”
Ma moved over to her with the shot glass, pinching her cheek before moving back to her seat.
At least she didn’t reach for a genitalia check, Sophia thought.
Maria poured.
“I don’t have a schlong. I told you Ma. I thought about it. Ponchka. What a priceless word for twat,” Maria said.
“Okay. Okay. Enough,” Ta said, raising his hands like a referee. “Let’s change the subject. What are we going to do about this funny business with Ma?” he asked, concern spreading across his face, darkening his already somber expression.
“That’s why we’re here,” Sophia said, downing her Slivovitz and shaking her glass at Maria for a refill.
She had to grab a piece of pumpernickel as a chaser. The liquor was taking her breath away.
“Why don’t I try to get to the bottom of this? I’ll do a little investigating,” Maria said, refilling the three shot glasses.
“What’s to investigate? I know it’s her. In meine beine,” Ma said.
“You can’t be sure. From what I’ve seen of her, she doesn’t look up to it. No energy. Even if she bears a grudge from the past, it doesn’t mean she’s the one actively threatening you,” Sophia said.
“Who else could it be?”
“What about Rudy?”
Sophia couldn’t help herself after the morning’s ordeal.
“Never. Mein Rudy. Bist du feruckt?” Ma thundered, lightning bolts of anger charging across the table.
“Speaking of Rudy,” Sophia said hastily, trying to deflect the wrath aimed her way. “We need his address.”
“Why?” asked Ada, anger replaced by suspicion. “You’re not going to investigate him? I know it’s that nafka.”
“Why would you call that broken down woman a whore?” Sophia asked.
“Never mind,” Ada snapped.
“Maybe they should look at Rudy. It can’t hurt,” Ta said.
“Schweig, Max.” Ada turned her piercing glare on him. “Stick to your Mathilde. You don’t know anything about Rudy.”
“Humph,” he snorted, before his retreat into silence.
“Stop. We’re getting sidetracked. We just want Rudy’s address because Maria is planning a party for her niece’s daughter. She needs a clown and you’ll agree Rudy fits the bill,” she said, triumphant because of her quick-witted invention.
Ada, still hesitant, finally said, “660 Meridian, Apartment 3. I’ll get his telephone number.”
She returned with the number on a scrap of paper, reluctantly handing it Maria.
Maria took Ada’s pen, which she was still holding, and added the address.
“We have to get going,” Sophia said. “I have a date with Kurt tonight.”
“A schlong. A goyische schlong, but still a man,” Ada said.
“Enough, Ma. Stop insulting Maria.”
“None taken,” said Maria, genial to the end.
“Bye, Ma and Ta,” Maria said, watching Sophia peck them both goodbye. She went over to them and followed suit.
They descended to the beach in silence.
“Whew. They are intense,” Maria said, breathing in the hot, mineral laden air.
“Yes they are. I wonder if they’ll get back together,” Sophia said, also deeply breathing in the briny air to clear her head.
“Probably not. Their new playmates sound more intense. Sophia, you’re not a little girl. Let them live their lives. They had the courage to divorce in their sixties.”
“Sometimes, I still feel like a little girl. But, you’re right. I’m too enmeshed. Now let’s get going. I need a nap before I get ready for Kurt.”
“Fuck that Kurt. When are you going to dump his sorry ass? I’m all you need.”
“Let’s not go there. All in good time.”
“All I’m saying is get rid of that pantywaist. He’s useless.”
“Calm down Maria. Haven’t we had enough intensity for one day?”
“I see red when I think of that pretty b
oy with you.”
“How do you know he’s a pretty boy?”
“What do you mean? You told me he’s all into himself.”
“Did I?”
Thirty One
Sophia was still ruminating over Maria’s knowing remark about Kurt when she stripped and got under the covers naked. Was she following them? First the black roses. Now this. She shivered with vague apprehension before snuggling up to Titi who had glided on to the pillow next to hers. The cat’s calm presence, velvety body, and gentle purring lulled her to sleep.
A tree, strong and tall, grew out of her third eye, higher and higher, heading for the cloudless cerulean sky. She felt the brazen sun enflaming her.
“I want this tree out of here.” She was talking to Maria, dressed as the Statue of Liberty, waving her torch aimlessly.
“You can’t say that. It’s your family tree, hon. I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t feel safe.”
“Nonsense, I’m with the CIA,” she said, before vanishing.
Sophia, relieved to be alone, offered her face to the blazing sun, noticing to her dismay that the tree, growing out of her forehead, had populated branches, holding Ada, Max, Rudy, Mathilde, Morton, and Magda, hanging upside down, mouths open, speaking simultaneously, like an inverted tower of Babel.
“Schweig.”
“Don’t get hysterical.”
“Whoring cunt.”
“Tell Papa I’m flying.”
“Rotten ponchkas everywhere for the taking.”
“Nazi lover.”
They curled up, transmogrifying into withered yellow apples, dropping to the grass, one by one, the merciless sun exposing their soft, rotting brown spots. The tree shriveled up, its dry remnants disappearing into her third eye before her skin closed over it.
She sat up startled, sweaty, and disoriented.
“Why wasn’t Lili there?” Sophia asked the empty room. Titi had fled. “Because she’s not old and rotten,” she answered herself.
The bedside clock glowed six o’clock.
She reached for the phone, calling Lili, who actually answered.
“Lili, darling. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Is everything okay, Ma? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just had a bizarre dream. You weren’t in it.”
“Should I have been?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You know Lili you are the best thing in my life. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too, Ma. I’m busy and it’s hectic even though it’s summer term. I’m getting ready for the year in Paris. It’s just around the corner. I may not have time to visit.”
“Don’t worry. As long as you’re happy.”
“Maybe you can visit me in Paris. Are you still seeing that creep?”
“Kurt? Yeah. Not for much longer.”
“Have you met someone new?”
“Not really,” Sophia said, tugging at her left ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Lili, I have to get going. The creep is coming over soon. I’m so glad you answered. I love you.”
“Love you too, Ma.”
She ran downstairs without bothering to put anything on, thinking about feeding the cat.
When the doorbell chimed, she decided to answer in the nude. Maybe it will charge Kurt up. All that satisfying sex with Maria seemed so long ago.
She opened the heavy door. There stood Kurt. Drop dead gorgeous in skin tight thin black leather pants, outlining his bulging thigh muscles, and a creamy off-white vee neck cashmere sweater showing off his impeccable pectorals. Short black boots with silver spurs added zest to his look.
Kurt gaped. He took in her alabaster skin, her ample breasts, nipples blossoming before his gaze, and her burning russet bush. Her mahogany red curls, tangled from her dream-troubled sleep, were in careless disarray.
She took the immobile Kurt by the hand, shutting the door behind him, leading him up the stairs, conscious of her well-developed ample derriere offered up to his scrutiny.
Once in the bedroom, she slowly relieved him of his clinging pants and his red speedo. Kneeling in front of him, she took him between her lips and brought him to life, enjoying the swelling and stiffening in her mouth. When she had finished toying with his balls, she got down to business until she was suctioning his sperm down her throat, dimly hearing him groaning and crying with pleasure.
She gave him a brief respite before leading him to the bed where she lay flat, spreading her legs and guiding his head to her labia. She offered up her swollen clitoris and Kurt pleased her with his tongue, stiffly active in all the right places. She came copiously.
They got down to serious intercourse. Biting, sucking, and tonguing each other in a feeding frenzy of sexual unity. A building crescendo of moans and shouts led them to a simultaneous orgasm.
“I need a drink,” Kurt said, breaking the silence, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Not a word had passed between them since a naked Sophia answered the door. “You?”
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
She watched him. He was still wearing his creamy cashmere. His ass peeked out beneath the sweater smartly. Kurt, his penis jiggling below his sweater, returned with two tumblers of golden brown Johnny Walker Double Black.
“Let’s go out on the balcony,” she said, giving his sated cock a few absent-minded strokes when he handed her the scotch. She ferreted out an emerald green kimono with two orange, blue-eyed koi embroidered on the back, from the closet.
Postcoital lethargy became her.
“You look stunning in that,” Kurt said, sipping his scotch.
“You look great too with your pretty schlong dangling between your legs.”
She fished out the crumpled blue pack of Gitanes, which she had taken away with her from Maria’s place, found a lighter in her bag, and opened the French doors to the balcony.
Heat, birdsong, and the cloying scent of jasmine welcomed their senses after the sterile vacuum of central air conditioning.
“When did you take up smoking?” Kurt asked, watching her exhale a hazy blue plume of pungent French smoke.
“Recently.”
She propped her feet on Kurt’s lap, poking at the tip of his penis with her toes.
“Now I know what they mean when they say, This is the life,” she said.
“Give me a puff. Although it’s bad for your skin,” Kurt said, wrinkling his nose at the brawny smoke.
“We should talk less and have more oral,” Sophia concluded.
“You’re absolutely right, darling.”
All thought of breaking up with him had vanished with the first orgasm.
Thirty Two
Was it an eternity since she last went to her office to see her patients? Had just one week passed?
Sophia, marveling at time’s elasticity, unlocked the door to her tranquil psychotherapy office, just down the block from OEDIPUS INC. She had created a sanctuary amidst the hustle and bustle of Lincoln Road. Sound proof windows, dim lighting, and soothing shades of green and blue with hints of red enhanced the large office’s charm. Muslim curtains filtered the light allowed into the oasis. Strategically placed lamps bathed the room in additional soft light. A small fountain tinkled somewhere in the background.
As soon as she entered the room, a faint familiar fig scent, lingering in the air, unnerved her. She was not alone. Her spine stiffened. She wanted to flee but was rooted to the spot.
She was getting up the momentum to turn tail and run, when sweaty fingers encircled her ankle, sending her crashing onto her back.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you scaring the shit out of me?” Sophia snarled, looking up into the acne-pocked face of one of the Momma’s Boys. Anger mingled with her fear.
“Happy to see you too, Mommy,” Sidney said, towering over her prone body. “I’m your new patient.”
“What are you talking about? How did you get this
address? Why would you do this?”
“Because it was easy as pie. Easy to get your address. Easy to book an appointment under a false name. Easy to get in. Easy to hide under your couch too.” He smirked, his bushy black eyebrows punctuating every easy with a waggle.
“Okay, I get it. It was easy,” Sophia said, mocking. “You’re never going to be a patient.”
“I don’t want to be a patient.”
She was beginning to think that Sidney was not all there.
“For the last time what do you want?” she asked the tall man-child with the spotty complexion and the ebony hair, dressed in a pink polo shirt and madras shorts.
Sidney started to strip saying, “I want you here and now.” His stiffening oversized cock was hovering high above her when he dropped his shorts.
She was right to be wary of this john. He was a new client and she hadn’t liked the feel, smell, or look of him.
“Wrong place, Sydney.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” He picked up his discarded shorts, fished a wad of bills out of his pocket, and flung the money at her. The bills lay at her head, next to her left ear. She was too stiff with apprehension to reach out and ravage her ear.
“What are you going to do?”
“Double the price. I like a little blood,” he said, sliding his black leather belt out of the madras loops of his pants.
He bound her hands together with the belt at her wrists.
“Turn over.”
A resigned Sophia glanced at the wad of bills, a reassuring security blanket, and turned over clumsily.
“You never mentioned blood at OEDIPUS INC.”
“I wanted you to like me.”
He knelt between her legs, pushing her legs apart further with his knees, pulling up her skirt and yanking her panties down, gasping with delight when her buttocks emerged.
He fell to, gnawing at her globes as if they were chicken drumsticks, drawing blood and lapping it up, droning, “Yummy Mummy,” over and over in a rasping monotone.
A bewildered Sophia started when she felt his tongue snaking into her anus, flicking around uncharted territory.
Time's Harlot: The Perils of Attraction, Seduction, and Desire Page 12