by Tony Klinger
“I won’t run away, promise,” I assured her. She smiled and swept her desk clear, knocking everything to the floor. “You aren’t going anywhere just yet mister Hessel.”
She took off her street clothes and I was delighted to notice that she wore sheer black stockings and suspenders, a lacy bra and sexy black silk knickers. She closed the distance between us like a big cat and I could smell her soft perfume and the beginning of her arousal. I let her lips touch mine, and our tongues swirled in each other’s mouths. She reached down and felt me and made a small noise of satisfaction, “I can see why the girls like you mister Hessel, little Arnie’s a big boy isn’t he, and he wants to come out to play.” We both grinned as with one hand she took my penis from my trousers and stroked me. After a little while she removed her bra and I saw her firm breasts, they had the most tasty nipples that stood up, waiting to be kissed, sucked and licked, and she allowed me to worship them, first one then the other, until she began to moan with pleasure. “Eat me.” She implored, removing her knickers. I looked at her shaven mound and I had a feast.
Eventually we both felt the moment had arrived and she stood back from me, a vision of pleasure and unselfish giving, a gorgeous mature woman, who wanted the ultimate intimacy, “I want you inside me, now.” She instructed, and this was one instruction that it is always advisable for a man to follow, the rewards are perfect.
We had built to such a pitch of mutual hunger that there was nothing that could delay us, she threw her coat on the floor and lay on it, she spread her legs and we found each other. She was loud and unrestrained, and I remember wondering what the other staff going past her office would make of the noises. But I couldn’t care less as we moved together, and reached a crescendo of repeated mutual satisfaction.
“Don’t you ever stop?” she shouted in my ear, “No, don’t stop!”
I heard someone rattle the door, but fortunately the lock held, it was Hank, “Everything all right in there?” he called. This brought us back to earth. It took us a few minutes to get dressed, me being helped by Susie, who couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She patted me on the cheek; “I should bottle you and keep you in my purse.” She finished straightening herself up and I waited while she left the room past the seemingly unfazed Hank. I came out a moment or two later, he stuffed a one hundred dollar bill in my jacket pocket.
“You screwed the ice lady, that is truly amazing, no one has even got to first base with her before, everyone thinks she’s a lesbian. How do you do it?”
I smiled, “I don’t think she’s a practicing lesbian any more and you don’t have to pay me on the bet, it was a pleasure.”
“Amazing,” he repeated, “come on dish the dirt, what was she like, what’s the secret?”
“We’re both grown ups and a gentleman never tells. But as I have never been a gentleman I can tell you she is a real fire cracker.” I continued, “And all you have to do with her or any other available woman is say what she wants to hear and do what women love to do.”
“Sure, like I never did that.” he said, “I’ve done that three times and all I got were three sets of alimony payments I have to make.”
He led me into the crowd who had gathered with the opening of the exhibition. At least Susie had taken my mind of this aspect of my profession, which I genuinely loathed.
Strangers, critics, friends and enemies swirled up to me and spoke, but I found it hard to concentrate on anything they said. My life at this point was empty and vacuous, I lived to screw around and party, to be a money making machine. I didn’t care or feel, all I could do was count the unending tide of money as it enveloped me and all those around me.
I reacted to the strangers who swirled around me but I didn’t think about what they were saying and I followed my newly acquired habit of being flippant and ridiculous, seeking to outrage and gain notoriety in the easiest way I could.
A huge black man blocked my path, “I’m Washington Abercrombie, Rutgers University.” He boomed, “And I am Arnie Hessel, Darmstadt, Germany.” I responded with my usual cynicism, “Your art is simplistic, without a pattern, and your attitude is paternalistic and your subject matter is overly schmaltzy.”
I laughed in his face, “And you’re here why?”
“To tell you what I think.” I felt the presence of Hank and Susie who had overheard this exchange and were immediately seeking a blocking position between Washington Abercrombie and me. “It’s OK,” I said, “So why does your university purchase my work?” I asked him, “I don’t rightly know Hessel; I’m from the math department, I just wanted you to know that some of us believe you are costing our university money it can ill afford.”
A familiar voice interrupted him, “And you are a rude and ignorant man who should go back to counting!” I turned and there was that familiar smile, Marlene, who never failed to surprise me had done so again. Abercrombie was not so easily deterred, “And what right do you have to dismiss like that?” he asked her. Marlene, who looked great, looked at him steadily, “Go away you silly man, I have a lifetimes to catch up on with my man.” Abercrombie looked between us and walked away as Marlene closed the distance between us and hugged me. It was so wonderful to feel her arms around me, “It’s been too long.” I said, and for once I meant it, she took half a step back, looked into my eyes, and nodded her head. “You’re still a devastating old goat.” “You never fail to astonish me, and talk about devastating, you look wonderful!”
Marlene smoothed her hair and turned to Helmut, “Where can I take this man for a drink and to catch up?” He opened the back door of the limousine and ushered us both in, “Your carriage awaits my prince and princess. It’s all set up for you, just relax and enjoy.”
The driver, a laconic New Yorker spoke to us, “Don’t worry, I ain’t about to turn into no pumpkin!” and drove us gently into the night.
We sat back after Marlene put up the partition between the driver and us. She looked around the back of the almost palatial car. It was great to see Marlene again. She found a bottle of brandy in the bar between our seats and poured us both a drink. She took a swig and gave me one also. “It’s been a long time Arnie.” “Too long.” I agreed, “Why didn’t you come back for me?”
She took another swallow, “You didn’t really want me, you wanted a memory, a dead memory.” Marlene gave me another pull on the drink, “Why does everyone have to make things so complicated all the time? We were happy once, we could be happy again.”
“Aren’t you happy?” she asked, looking me directly in the eye, “No, no I’m not, I got everything I ever wanted and in the end I realized it was all nothing.”
“I’m sorry for you, I really am.” She stroked my hand with her own. “Don’t feel pity for me, you know I can’t deal with people pitying me. Let’s change the subject. What about you, what have you been doing, where have you been?”
“Oh you know, here and there, this and that, learning to live again. After I got your mother and the boys to Israel I went to Tel Aviv and.” She paused, and it was significant, “And?” I asked, “You can’t leave it like that, and what?”
“I met a man, Yigal, and we were married, he is a very kind man, a strong man, solid, dependable.”
I tried not to let her see my hurt, but it was like a dagger between my ribs, it took the breath out of me. “Say something, be happy for me,” She implored. “You found happiness with this man, with Yigal?”
“He has given me a home, and peace, security and hugs, sometimes these are the best things in the world. And I have this with him.”
“But do you love him?” I persisted, “Yes, I love him, with all my heart.” She was crying for what might have been, for us, and for all that had been lost. I found myself crying also; “I’m happy for you Marlene, I will always love you and I want the best for you, you deserve nothing but the best. But why didn’t you let me know, at least I could
have sent you something nice as a present.”
“I wasn’t sure how you would react. Neither was your mother. She told me I had to kiss you for her.” Marlene kissed me, and I don’t know if I was hoping for something different, but there was no passion, just a quiet echo of love.
“Ah, so the plot thickens, my mother has sent you to me, what does she want?”
“No, not really, Yigal is in Washington with the trade delegation. But your mother is concerned about you. Why don’t you telephone her or the boys, or at least dictate some letters?”
“They don’t even know me, what would be the point? It would just confuse them.”
“You’re their father. See if from their point of view, stop being so bloody self centered. To them it must feel as if they must have done something wrong. You just cut them out of your life.”
“I send money, they have their own lives, and it’s not a life spoilt by all my rubbish. I check regularly that they need for nothing.”
Marlene slapped my face, hard. “That went with the kiss from your mother. She thinks you deserve that slap, and so do I.”
She knocked on the glass partition and it lowered electrically. The driver, who had clearly seen the slap in his driving mirror, was respectful, almost comically deferential to the feisty lady, “Yes ma’am!”
“Let me out at the next subway station we come to.”
Before he could respond I intervened, “You came all this way to slap my face and tell me you were married?” The car pulled to a halt outside the 81st. Street station and Marlene stepped out. But before she walked away she turned to face me, there were tears in her eyes, “I don’t know what’s made you so selfish, but the world doesn’t revolve around you just because you’re talented or because you can’t use your arms or because you screw every woman you can get your cock into. It all doesn’t matter to your kids, not your money, or the houses, or the toys. To them its you who counts. I don’t know why but they still idolize you, and you, you sod, you have two gorgeous sons and you don’t even know them. Those boys don’t understand why their daddy never sees them, and nor do I. Goodbye.” She slammed the door and ran to the subway steps without looking back.
Initially I was too stunned to react, and then I said to the driver, “Driver, can you take me back to the gallery please.”
The driver got out of the car and walked around to my door, which he opened, “I ain’t driving you nowhere mister, you’re walking.”
I had no alternative but to do as he instructed and the long walk gave me time to think.
Chapter Twenty-One
Los Angeles, California
1963
Hank’s office on Wilshire Boulevard was that of a hugely rich, nationally famous attorney, it was sumptuous and huge. He liked to boast it was the size of a tennis court, and he wasn’t exaggerating, much. Hank had finally gained some weight, but had kept his hair dyed jet black, even though it wasn’t quite so thick and lustrous any more. We were facing each other at either end of a long oval redwood table, with Helmut in one of the numerous empty leather chairs running each side. As ever at our seemingly endless charitable trust executive meetings Hank was reading from reams of account statements, cash flows, turnover, and net profits, until both Helmut and I were finding it difficult to stay awake. I couldn’t have been more bored.
Hank droned on, “Our English operation has been particularly successful for the last tax year the British foundation will clear a surplus of approximately nine hundred thousand pounds sterling and as for Latin America the figures are even more.”
I cut in, “The Tax Authorities are a whole lot more interested than I am. Can’t you just share this with Hynie, I want to slash my throat, but you’d have to stop reading to help me.” I pleaded, “It’s you duty to know everything that the Foundation does, you’re President for life, and you need to know the income and expenditure, how many people are being helped, everything.”
“That’s all very German of you Helmut, but I’m supposed to be a bloody artiste, not a book-keeper. And don’t tell me you actually believe our own propaganda. It’s all down to the bottom line and that’s how much money we have in our bank account. Hank understands all that, don’t you Hank?” Hank didn’t reply, but Helmut did, “You’re drunk, its not even lunch time and you’re drunk.”
“That isn’t true, I am high, I am not drunk, I just smoked some weed that my nice model gave to me, delightful girl.” I laughed, but both my friends looked at me with something bordering on contempt.
“How long has it been since you actually painted a picture of your model instead of screwing with her?” Helmut insisted on asking me, “I haven’t painted a decent picture in years, but who cares as long as we have a thriving business. What do I do I go on fucking lecture tours and I find other bloody cripples who can be taught to hold a bloody paint brush with some part of their anatomy, we pay them a lousy salary and that makes us respectable, bring in more bloody money, so that you can find ways of paying no tax. It’s a treadmill, what does it have to do with art? Nothing, none of it has anything whatsoever to do with art, or creativity. I’ve had enough of this shit, I’m finished, and it’s over!”
Helmut sighed, “You just need a vacation, somewhere to come down of all these drugs, get your head together, this isn’t you talking, it’s the drugs.”
“Yes’” Hank agreed, “A nice vacation someplace, we can fix it up for you, then you’ll be back on form, the Arnie we all know.”
“You can’t quit Arnie, too many people depend on you for their living.” Helmut finished, “None of you have needed me for years, and you know it, I’ve become just a figurehead, someone to wheel out for the interview, I’m an irrelevance.”
“This is such shit Arnie,” Helmut insisted, “You’re the inspiration for thousands of people, and yes, your role is different now, its become that of a leader, you can’t do this as a one man show any longer, it’s a team, and there are a lot of people, handicapped and otherwise in that team, depending on it. They’re all over the world, all kinds of people. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself and help them.”
“I’ve done enough, haven’t I. let someone else do it. I’m so tired. How much can one person give?”
Helmut stood up, clearly angry with me; “I never thought I’d hear this from you. Let me ask you a better question. How much can one person take?”
“Who do you think you’re kidding? This was always just a great big scam, a business like any other, to make us all rich.” I was disappointed with myself as soon as I said it, and I could see how I had upset both my friends. “Of course it was, to begin with,” said Helmut before continuing, “then we had to survive the war. These things happen piece by piece, you can’t divorce our reality from the rest of the world. After the war it had become something else, we really did a lot of good for thousands of people who otherwise would have starved. It’s a force for good, surely you know that about this business, after all you were its father.”
“If you really believe that garbage you should be sitting in my chair, I don’t believe it any more.”
“It’s not garbage Arnie, its what makes us come in every morning. It’s a pity if you’re so confused that you don’t believe it any more, but we can’t let you pull the whole temple down just because you’ve lost faith.” Hank finished and sighed heavily, he closed the folders he had been reading from.
“You can talk, how rich have you become Hank from your work with my Foundation?” I wanted to hurt him, and to punish him for making me look inwards. It was sheer spite and looking back I could only hate myself for it. Hank was looking at me sorrowfully. “Arnie, you’d better go take a risk someplace because I am not going to take that kind of abuse from anyone.”
Before I could anything further Helmut leant forward in my direction, “You apologize to Hank, he hasn’t taken a cent from the Foundation in fees for
the last ten years and while we’re on this matter neither have I. And if you had ever listened to these meetings, or read any of the papers we sent you would have known all this you sad fool!”
I was stunned, “I didn’t know, I promise you I didn’t know, so how did you two live, how do you afford the houses and the cars and everything else?”
“We’d already made enough for the rest of our lives five or ten years back, and we own enough assets to keep us in luxury for the rest of our lives.” Helmut answered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We did you idiot, you just forgot how to listen to anything or anyone but yourself.” This time it was Hank who nailed me. I knew it was time for Arnie Hessel to do what he was told for once, it was time for me to find myself, to do what everyone else was doing, drop out and turn on.
Chapter Twenty-Two
London
July 1967
I was sitting in a café on the Kings Road in London’s Chelsea. I was part of the flower power generation, even if they thought I was too old for anything but a bus pass and a pension. I watched the dolly birds stroll past in their micro mini skirts from Biba’s, their hair cut by the style gurus at Vidal Sassoon, they were accompanied by their peacock boyfriends, and I understood what it was to be almost invisible to the young and attractive. They only had eyes for each other, not an old fool like me. But I could still look and dream. As ever I was surrounded by a bunch of fashionable but poor freeloaders, always glad to join my table as long as I kept on picking up the check.