Too Easy

by Bruce Deitrick Price

  Kathy sees the name of Robie’s street. Her breathing quickens, which surprises her. She strains to pick out a number, figure how far away the house is. Let’s see, oh, they’re almost there. Jesus. The house is on her right—fifty feet outside the cab window. Just a low hedge separating them. Kathy presses herself back in the corner, peeks out. Nobody in sight. The cab is slowing, the guy looking for a number that actually doesn’t exist. Robie’s house is smallish, two stories. Well, hell, big for two people. White and a Colonial blue on the trim. Drive and garage to the right. Then a little fence with a row of small trees separating Robie’s house from the nearest neighbor. Must be a backyard. . . .

  The cab slows almost to a stop three houses up. “Keep going,” Kathy snaps. “Don’t stop.”

  The driver goes on up the street, waiting, frowning.

  Kathy leans forward, smiling. “I’m house hunting. Let’s turn around and go down this street real slow.” Yeah, house hunting, she thinks. True, in a way.

  Now she’ll be on the opposite side, hidden inside the dark of the cab. No way anyone could glance out a window and see her.

  As they come back, Kathy whispers, “Slow . . . slow in here.” Her eyes jumping from window to window, looking for clues to Robie’s life. Then she gets a one-second view of the back, sees a figure well behind the house. Robie, the wife? Kathy’s not sure. One of them. Maybe talking to the other, who’s closer to the house. So there they are.

  Funny, she thinks, the reality doesn’t depress me. I thought it might. No, it makes me surer. It’s there, it’s mine. Just a matter of time.

  “Okay,” she says, “we can go back to the station.”

  “To take the train? Bronxville is closer.”

  “Oh, no thanks. I’ve got friends who expect me in Mount Vernon.” Trying to be calm, normal. So this guy won’t remember she was in his cab. She was never here, never saw Robie’s life.

  Oh, someday I’ll tell him. She smiles. He’ll like it.

  She feels very calm now. Feels good. Nice day. Just a matter of time.

  Chapter

  9

  • A hall on the 29th floor. Past the rest-rooms. Then there’s a sharp turn and a door that goes out on a little landing, sort of recessed. A lot of old Manhattan office buildings have these. Robert stands there looking down at the city, the East River. Wearing an overcoat; the air temperature feels about 45. His windpipe is tight, his heart beating heavily. Just to touch her, that’s all he wants. Which sounds even crazier when he thinks it.

  Kathy eases past the heavy door. A stillness about her that seems to make him more excited. Hands in her coat pockets, head a little to the side. Smiling at him. Slowly she unbuttons her coat, holds it open. Twists a little, swells her chest. “Hi, big guy. . . . All yours.”

  He thinks of grabbing her hard, mauling her in his arms, sitting her on the railing, getting between her thighs. Not things he can so easily do. The city all around them, maybe somebody noticing them just this second. The guilt! Anne jumping into his head. And his staff down on 16 probably wondering where he is. He steps to her, slides his arms around her back, presses her against him.

  “Silly me,” he says, smiling awkwardly. “I’ve got a paper to put together. And all I can think about is . . . one kiss. From you.”

  They kiss for a long time. “Only one kiss?” she asks. She can see the tension in his face, feel the rigidity in his body. Partly it flatters her, partly it charms her, partly it amuses her. “You know what I told you. . . . I’m always here for you. Use me.” She slides her palm down over the front of his pants. “Feels like a big dick to me. You think anybody’s watching?” Robert stares wildly around. “Doesn’t matter. All they see is two people talking.” She unzips his pants, takes his prick out, strokes him firmly, not too quickly.

  “What,” he gasps.

  She puts her lips close to his. “I’m jerking you off.”

  “But . . . ?”

  “Oh? All that stuff? Hmmmm. Gallons of nice come. You better figure something out, lover.”

  Robert searches his pockets, almost desperately, comes up with two wrinkled napkins, put there at some long-ago restaurant or cocktail party. His legs are aching, and his groin is tightening. He positions the napkins just over his prick, with his left hand. He grips her shoulder with the other. “Oh, Kathy . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean it to be like . . .”

  She smiles, almost laughing at him. “Robie, darling. I’m yours. Besides, I like jerking you off. Feels great. How do you feel? Throbbing maybe?”

  “Yes. Oh, God . . . great. . . . Everything’s starting to spin.”

  She likes that. The man has a lot of romance in him. Awkward but genuine. That’s something she can learn from him. She strokes him faster, watching his face tighten, the nervous grimaces, the heavy sighs. Struggling to come, to hold it off, to say something sweet.

  “Don’t think, Robie. . . . Just let it rip, sweetheart.”

  “Sweet . . . heart. Ohhhhhh. God. Oh, please, thank you.” He’s gasping, and trying to catch it all with the napkins, doubling over a little, smiling gratefully into her serene face. “Great,” he tells her, “that was . . . wonderful.”

  She gives him some last squeezes, then puts it back in his pants, zips him up. “Oh, look.” When she brings her hand up between them, there’s a fleck of white on her first finger. Slowly she puts the hand close to her mouth and licks off the fleck. “Hhmmmm.”

  “Ohhhh,” he says, staring blankly at her, “you’ll make me hard again.”

  Kathy smiles. “Good. Now you go back and put out a great paper and think about me every second.”

  “Kiss me again,” he begs. “You’re just . . . so . . . wonderful.”

  “Twice in the same day,” she smiles. “I must be doing something right.”

  “Kathy . . . everything.”

  Chapter

  10

  • Robert wasn’t so tentative. Now he moves on her heavily, urgently. More than he normally does. Anne tries not to think about this. To go with him, enjoy it. His hands grip her strongly. No, there’s something different. And it’s the opposite of what she was worrying about the last week or so. Thinking he might be distracted, losing interest, becoming bored.

  How could this be? Suddenly it seems the most terrifying thing, that her husband should be more dramatic and passionate.

  When she thinks this, she loses her sexual tension. Another kind pervades her. Intellectual tension, she thinks it might be called. A puzzle takes over her mind. Why would Robert change?

  And she shamelessly channels this tension, this confusion and anger, into a small fake orgasm. Not so much to deceive Robert, or flatter him. But to hide her thoughts. To give herself freedom to wrestle with the puzzle.

  Robert finishes and slowly eases his large body off her much smaller one, curling up close to her in the dark. The way he normally does, one knee up on her thighs, one arm across her body. Whispering into her ear. “Good night, sweet Anne.”

  “That was nice, Robert. . . . ’Night.”

  She lies there, eyes wide open. How does a man become more passionate, suddenly? How? She feels so stupid, so ignorant. But she comes back again and again to where she started. Something has changed. She doesn’t trust this change. Indeed, if she looks it full in the face, she’s terrified.

  Robert’s already half asleep. She knows his breathing so well. He’s sliding . . . slowly off. Stirring next to her. Tossing a little, the way he does. He’ll finally roll away, once asleep, settle on his back, maybe keep one leg against her.

  Suppose, she thinks, he is bored with me. Losing interest. . . . Oh, it’s all my fault, I’m sure. But he feels guilty, I suppose. So he tries to hide it, tries not to hurt me. Over-compensating, the shrinks would say. I don’t know. Everything between us is so comfortable, so unassuming. He could pull away and that would become part of our pattern. It’d be normal for us. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty. Sincerity, that was always Robert’s long suit. It’s not
like him to pretend things.

  It’s almost, she thinks, as if he doesn’t know. Right, that’s it. He’s changed, in bed anyway, and he’s not even aware of it.

  Anne feels her body go rigid. This is the most frightening road to go down. For what could cause such a change? What? Or who?

  She doesn’t want to think about this. She wants to go to sleep. So she can juggle numbers all day. But she can’t see any way around her deduction. Oh, it’s too monstrous to think about. Monstrous and inconceivable. And yet what is happening everywhere you look? And who’s always the last to know?

  She feels the tension building in her body. She presses on her stomach. A knot has formed in the solar plexus. She kneads it with her fingers.

  Oh, I’m overreacting. What’s wrong with me? Wait until next time, see if it happens again. See if what happens? I’ve got a hot husband, who can’t get enough of me? Ha! Can’t accept a gift, can I? The glass always half empty. I hate that about myself. But what is going on? Seriously, even a klutz like me learns a few things. . . .

  Dear God, all this because Robert really went at it, as they say. Maybe he stopped on the way home at a porno store, looked at some dirty pictures, got himself worked up. Well now. Maybe he’s got some hidden around here.

  Anne smiles in the dark. This is a nice theory. It has the virtue of having only two humans in it, plus porno. Robert and herself. Yes, she always saw it that way. Until they were gray and doddering and then in the ground, side by side. Their children coming now and then to put flowers on the graves.

  She concentrates on this long life together, turns it around and around in her mind, finally drifts off in a restless sleep.

  PART

  II

  Chapter

  11

  • Robert arrives twenty minutes after Kathy, at five. A little hotel on East 32nd Street. Everything worked out. False names. No records. Never seen together. Kathy insists, says it’s only smart. She calls in the reservation at lunch, says her husband is flying in later from Denver.

  Robert comes up the elevator, marveling at the things he’s doing, things he never imagined. Plotting and scheming. Lying, that’s the bottom line. Lying all the time. To Anne. To his colleagues. To himself? That’s where it gets tricky. Then when he imagines he’s getting a clear fix on things, he thinks of Kathy’s eager sexuality, of some extravagant little detail of her enthusiasm for him, of how pretty she is, how vital and alive. And he can’t think. He can only want. And count the seconds until the next time he can look into those lovely eyes and touch her.

  Coming out of the elevator, he can feel his heart, sense the pulse of his blood. It’s madness, he thinks. . . . What if Anne finds out? . . . Have to stop. Pull back. . . .

  Instead he almost runs down the hall. Knocks three times and goes in the unlocked room. The light subdued. He has to strain to see. Bed, chairs . . .

  “Hello?”

  The room’s L-shaped, with a little area to the right. He turns that way. Sees a wide cabinet. Kathy sitting on top, in the middle, naked, hips forward, her knees up and far apart.

  “Hi, lover.”

  He feels faint from a rush of emotions. His first thought is to drop on his knees before her, in veneration, in hunger for her sweet body.

  He lurches closer, puts a hand on her knee. Smiles down at her. Marveling at the shapeliness of her breasts. She reaches out to touch his balls. He almost leaves the floor, they’re so on edge.

  “Do what you want,” she says. “Please. That’s all I ask.”

  He kisses her hard. His fingers curl up inside her. So hot, so wet.

  She’s got his pants open, holding his prick. She falls slowly sideways, stretching out on the cabinet, pulling him along. He stares fascinated as she steers his prick toward her mouth.

  He wants to do everything at once. Come. Kiss her. Tell her one compliment after another. Run screaming from the room. She’s licking him. “Kathy . . . Kathy . . . wait a minute.” I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you. He can’t speak the words. But they’re true.

  She ignores his gibberings, his confusion, does what she wants with him.

  He pushes away from her. Staring down, his face contorted. She smiles. Yes, lover?

  “Let’s start over,” he says. “Sit just the way you were. . . . I have to see it again.”

  She pushes herself up, squares her knees, spreads her thighs outward. Showing him the black hair, the intricate flesh. He undresses blindly, then drops to his knees. His hands touch the floor. He moves closer, closer. Smells her. Takes deep breaths of her. He licks her for a long time, slow and dreamy, then more roughly. She rubs his hair, whispers to him, “My man.”

  Finally he stands, pulling her up with him, settling her down on his prick. He turns toward the bed, topples over. Puts everything out of his mind, screws her as hard and fast as he can. Holding her ass, pounding away. Do what I want, she says . . . by God, this is what I want.

  “Don’t come,” she says.

  “What?”

  “Just stand up, you know, on your knees.” She pushes him. “Come in the air, I want to see it.”

  He straightens over her. Staring at her perfect body. Jerking himself off in a startling high arc, the come splattering on her breasts and stomach.

  She dabs at it, smiling up at him. “Whoa, sweet baby. They felt that down on the street.”

  An hour later, they’re dressing. Kathy walking around naked as long as possible, Robert notices. Or in her elegant underwear.

  “Ohh!” she says. “I feel great. How about you?”

  “Can’t walk,” he says. “Other than that, great.”

  “Hey, Robie,” she says, standing close in front of him, “good sex is important. I happen to believe that. But I want you to know something. This is not all fun and games for me. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes . . . I do.”

  “I care a lot about you. No, I’ll say it. I love you. Nice words.”

  He stares at her, his eyes bleary. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says factually.

  “It’s a start.” She laughs. “I know, I know, the married guys never leave their wives.” She rubs his chest, smiles sort of sadly. “That’s all right. I’ll take my chances. You’re worth it. Personally, I think we’re a perfect match.”

  He stares some more, amazed at how she touched the big question and just went past it. He embraces her almost feverishly, from desire and confusion and something else, gratitude perhaps. For what she’s given him; and that she keeps on giving more.

  She seems sometimes to think for him, which is frightening. But still a gift. Or they’re so attuned that their thoughts arrive at the same point? Maybe, he thinks, that’s what real love is. Oh, no question about it, he does love her.

  The decision is like a canyon in front of his feet, but in that instant he sees himself somehow on the other side, leaving his wife behind. He and Kathy will always be together, locked in an endless embrace.

  Kathy gives him a final kiss. “You go first,” she says, “catch your train.”

  • • •

  Kathy takes a cab to a restaurant near Penn Station. To meet Louise again, quiet her down. Goddamned Keith.

  Louise is waiting inside, smoking nervously.

  “Alright, alright,” Kathy says, “how bad is it? You’re here, in one piece. Louise! You are sure he didn’t follow you, right?”

  Louise smirks. “I’m sure.”

  They hug, then Kathy says, “Relax. You’re here to live it up.” She tells the girl with the menus, “Looks like we need the smoking section.”

  They get a table by the far wall, nobody close. Fold their coats over nearby chairs. “This looks good, Louise. Now we can carry on.”

  They order martinis. Louise lights another cigarette. “Nice place,” she says, glancing around at the black and chrome decor. She plays with the matches, rests her elbows on the black table. Sort of nervous, but giving Kathy this smug look. “Well, don’t you look
all rosy-cheeked? Been doing anything you wouldn’t tell Mom about?”

  Kathy laughs. “Alright, now tell me about Keith.”

  “Let’s wait for the drinks. Look at men.”

  “You got it.”

  Kathy feels good, fairly calm. Nothing but time, now that Robie’s on a train home. The martinis come and the women touch glasses. “To you,” Kathy says.

  “Thanks, I need it.” Louise sips half her drink, goes back to puffing on the cigarette. She’s always a little high-strung. Her face pretty enough but tense, watchful. Too much mascara. Always strutting her shoulders so nobody misses the boobs. Kathy never knows what she’ll say next, or what mood she’ll suddenly land in.

  Louise sighs at length.

  “Like I said, I have a long day. I’m beat to hell. Probably a good thing in the circumstances. I come home and there’s your ex-man sitting on the sofa, watching the basketball game, having himself a beer. One of mine, I think. I do happen to have two locks on my door.”

  Kathy shakes her head. “Resourceful guy.”

  “Oh, yeah, Kath. Thank you for sharing that.”

  “He’s just showing off.”

  “Yeah, he can get in my place any time he wants and kill me. He showed me that much.”

  “Louise, be calm, be serious. The man’s probably on probation somewhere. He is not going to do anything that would hurt him. He’s selfish like that.”

  “He pointed out he could rape me and beat me up a little and nobody would do a thing. He also said I’d like it.”

  Kathy laughs. “What a guy. . . . Sorry.”

  “You can laugh. I’m on the front line here.”

  “The guy’s a dinosaur. Totally obsolete. And he doesn’t know it. Gives him a certain power, I guess. Charm, too, I guess. Look, Louise, it doesn’t do us any good to be upset. If he ups the ante, you’ll tell him where I am. That’s all. Then I’ll have to deal with him. Really. I appreciate you trying to keep him off.”

  “He wants you back, Kath. You get this or you don’t?”