I finished the glass and then poured down what was left in the bottle. I was in Playa del Rey. I undressed, leaving my clothes in a messy pile on the couch. I had never been a dresser. My shirts were all faded and shrunken, 5 or 6 years old, threadbare. My pants the same. I hated department stores, I hated the clerks, they acted so superior, they seemed to know the secret of life, they had a confidence I didn't possess. My shoes were always broken down and old, I disliked shoe stores too. I never purchased anything until it was completely unusable, and that included automobiles. It wasn't a matter of thrift, I just couldn't bear to be a buyer needing a seller, seller being so handsome and aloof and superior. Besides, it all took time, time when you could just be laying around and drinking.

I walked into the bedroom with just my shorts on. I was conscious of my white belly lolling out over the shorts. But I made no effort to suck in my gut. I stood by the side of the bed, lowered my shorts, stepped out of them. Suddenly I wanted more to drink. I climbed into the bed. I got under the covers. Then I turned toward Debra. I held her. We were pressed together. Her mouth was open. I kissed her. Her mouth was like a wet cunt. She was ready. I sensed it. There would be no need of foreplay. We kissed and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth. I caught it between my teeth, held it. Then I rolled over on top of Debra and slid it in.

I think it was the way her head was turned away to one side as I fucked her. It turned me on. Her head was turned away and bounced on the pillow with each stroke. Now and then as I was stroking I turned her head toward me and kissed that blood-red mouth. It was finally working for me. I was fucking all the women and girls I had gazed longingly after on the sidewalks of Los Angeles in 1937, the last really bad year of the depression, when a piece of ass cost two bucks and nobody had any money (or hope) at all. I'd had to wait a long time for mine. I worked and pumped. I was having a red hot useless fuck! I grabbed Debra's head once again, reached that lipstick mouth just one more time as I spurted into her, into her diaphragm.

90.

The next day was Saturday and Debra cooked us breakfast.

"Are you coming antique hunting with us today?"

"All right."

"Are you hungover?" she asked.

"Not too bad."

We ate in silence for a while, then she said, "I liked your reading at The Lancer. You were drunk but it came through."

"Sometimes it doesn't."

"When are you going to read again?"

"Somebody's been phoning from Canada. They're trying to raise funds."

"Canada! Can I go with you?"

"We'll see."

"Are you staying tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"I will then."

"Great. . . ."

We finished breakfast and I went to the bathroom while Debra did the dishes. I flushed and wiped, flushed again, washed my hands, came out. Debra was cleaning up at the sink. I grabbed her from behind.

"You can use my toothbrush if you want," she said.

"Is my breath bad?"

"It's all right."

"Like hell."

"You can also shower if you want. . . ."

"That too . . . ?"

"Stop it. Tessie won't be here for an hour. We can clear away the cobwebs."

I went and let the bathwater run. The only time I liked to shower was in a motel. In the bathroom there was a photo of a man on the wall--dark, long hair, standard, handsome face run through with the usual idiocy. He smiled white teeth at me. I brushed what was left of my discolored teeth. Debra had mentioned that her ex-husband was a shrink.

Debra showered after I was through. I poured myself a small glass of wine and sat in a chair looking out the front window. Suddenly I remembered that I had forgotten to mail my ex-woman her child support money. Oh well. I'd do it Monday.

I felt peaceful in Playa del Rey. It was good to get out of the crowded, dirty court where I lived. There was no shade, and the sun beat down mercilessly on us. We were all insane in one way or another. Even the dogs and the cats were insane, and the birds and the newsboys and the hookers.

For us, in east Hollywood, the toilets never worked properly and the landlord's cut-rate plumber could never quite fix them. We left the tank lids off and hand-manipulated the plunger. The faucets dripped, the roaches crawled, the dogs crapped everywhere, and the screens had large holes in them that let in flies and all manner of strange flying insects.

The bell bing-bonged and I got up and opened the door. It was Tessie. She was in her forties, a swinger, a redhead with obviously dyed hair.

"You're Henry, aren't you?"

"Yes, Debra's in the bathroom. Please sit down." She had on a short red skirt. Her thighs were good. Her ankles and calves weren't bad either. She looked like she loved to fuck. I walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Debra, Tessie's here. ..."

The first antique store was a block or two from the water. We drove down in the Volks and went in. I walked around with them. Everything was priced $800, $1500 . . . old clocks, old chairs, old tables. The prices were unbelievable. Two or three clerks stood around and rubbed their hands. They evidently worked on salary plus commission. The owner certainly located the items for almost nothing in Europe or the Ozark Mountains. I got bored looking at huge price tags. I told the girls I'd wait in the car.

I found a bar across the street, went in, sat down. I ordered a bottle of beer. The bar was full of young men mostly under 25. The were blond and slim, or dark and slim, dressed in perfectly fitting slacks and shirts. They were expressionless and undisturbed. There were no women. A large television set was on. There was no sound. Nobody watched it. Nobody spoke. I finished my beer and left.

I found a liquor store and got a 6-pack. I went back to the car and sat there. The beer was good. The car was parked in the lot in back of the antique store. The street to my left was backed up with traffic and I watched the people waiting patiently in the cars. There was almost always a man and a woman, staring straight ahead, not talking. It was, finally, for everyone, a matter of waiting. You waited and you waited--for the hospital, the doctor, the plumber, the madhouse, the jail, papa death himself. First the signal was red, then the signal was green. The citizens of the world ate food and watched t.v. and worried about their jobs or their lack of same, while they waited.

I began to think about Debra and Tessie in the antique shop. I really didn't like Debra, but there I was entering her life. It made me feel like a peep-freak.

I sat drinking the beer. I was down to the last can when they finally came out.

"Oh Henry," said Debra, "I found the nicest marble top table for only $200!"

"It's really fabulous!" said Tessie.

They climbed into the car. Debra pressed her leg against mine, "Have you been bored with all this?" she asked.

I started the engine and drove to a liquor store and bought 3 or 4 bottles of wine, cigarettes.

That bitch Tessie in her short red skirt with her nylons, I thought to myself as I paid the liquor store man. I bet she has done in at least a dozen good men without even thinking about it. I decided her problem was not thinking. She didn't like to think. And that was all right because there weren't any laws or rules about it. But when she reached 50 in a few years she'd begin to think! Then she'd be a bitter woman in a supermarket, jamming her shopping cart into people's backs and ankles in the check-out line, her dark shades on, her face puffed and unhappy, her cart filled with cottage cheese, potato chips, pork chops, red onions and a quart of Jim Beam.

I went back to the car and we drove to Debra's place. The girls sat down. I opened a bottle and poured 3 glasses.

"Henry," said Debra, "I'm going to get Larry. He'll drive me down in his van to pick up my table. You needn't endure that, aren't you glad?"

"Yes."

"Tessie will keep you company."

"All right."

"You two behave yourselves now!"

Larry came in through the back door and he and Debra walked out the front. Larry warmed up the van, and they drove off.

"Well, we're alone," I said.

"Yeah," said Tessie. She sat very still, looking straight ahead. I finished my drink and went to the bathroom to take a piss. When I came out Tessie was still sitting quietly on the couch.

I walked along behind the couch. When I reached her I took her under the chin and tipped her face up. I pressed my mouth against hers. She had a very large head. She had purple makeup smeared under her eyes and she smelled like stale fruit juice, apricots. She had thin silver chains dangling from each ear and at the end of each chain hung one ball--symbolic. As we kissed I reached down into her blouse. I found a breast and cupped my hand on it and rolled it around. No brassiere. Then I straightened up and pulled my hand away. I walked around the couch and sat down next to her. I poured two drinks.

"For an ugly old son of a bitch, you've got a lot of balls," she said.

"How about a quickie before Debra gets back?"

"No."

"Don't hate me. I'm just trying to enliven the party."

"I think you stepped out of bounds. What you just did was gross and obvious."

"I guess I lack imagination."

"And you're a writer?"

"I write. But mostly I take photographs."

"I think you fuck women just in order to write about fucking them."

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"O.K., O.K., forget it. Drink up."

Tessie went back to her drink. She finished it and put her cigarette down. She looked at me, blinking her long false eyelashes. She was like Debra with a big lipstick mouth. Only Debra's mouth was darker and didn't glisten as much. Tessie's was a bright red and her lips glistened, she held her mouth open, continually licking her lower lip. Suddenly Tessie grabbed me. That mouth opened over my mouth. It was exciting. I felt as if I was being raped. My cock began to rise. I reached down while she was kissing me and flipped her skirt back, ran my hand up her left leg as we continued to kiss.

"Come on," I said, after the kiss.

I took her by the hand and led her into Debra's bedroom. I pushed her down on the bed. The bedspread was on. I pulled off my shoes and pants, then pulled her shoes off. I kissed her a long one, then I pulled the red skirt up over her hips. No pantyhose. Nylons and pink panties. I pulled the panties off. Tessie had her eyes closed. Somewhere in the neighborhood I could hear a stereo playing symphony music. I rubbed a finger along her cunt. Soon it got wet and began to open. I sank my finger in. Then I pulled it out and rubbed the clit. She was nice and juicy. I mounted. I hit her a few swift, vicious jolts, then I went slow, then I ripped again. I looked into that depraved and simple face. It really excited me. I pounded away.

Then Tessie pushed me away. "Get off!"

"What? What?"

"I hear the van! I'll get fired! I'll lose my job!"

"No, no, you WHORE!"

I ripped away without mercy, pressed my lips against that glistening, horrible mouth and came inside of her, good. I jumped off. Tessie picked up her shoes and panties and ran to the bathroom. I wiped off with my handkerchief and straightened the bedspread, fluffed up the pillows. As I was zipping up the door opened. I walked into the front room.

"Henry, would you help Larry carry in the table? It's heavy."

"Sure."

"Where's Tessie?"

"I think she's in the bathroom."

I followed Debra out to the truck. We slid the table out of the van, grabbed it and carried it back to the house. As we came back in Tessie was sitting on the couch with a cigarette.

"Don't drop the merchandise, boys!" she said.

"No way!" I said.

We carried it into Debra's bedroom and put it by the bedside. She had another table there which she removed. Then we stood around and looked at the marble top.

"Oh, Henry . . . just $200 ... do you like it?"

"Oh, it's fine, Debra, just fine."

I went to the bathroom. I washed my face, combed my hair. Then I dropped my pants and shorts and quietly washed my parts. I pissed, flushed, and walked back out.

"Care for a wine, Larry?" I asked.

"Oh no, but thanks. . . ."

"Thanks for helping, Larry," said Debra.

Larry went out the back door.

"Oh, I'm so excited!'1'' said Debra.

Tessie sat and drank and talked with us for 10 or 15 minutes then she said, "I've got to go."

"Stay if you want to," said Debra.

"No, no, I've got to go. I've got to clean my apartment, it's a mess."

"Clean your apartment? Today? When you've got two nice friends to drink with?" asked Debra.

"I just sit here thinking about that mess over there and I can't feel relaxed. Don't take it personally."

"All right, Tessie, you go now. We'll forgive you."