Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [210]
"He said what!" I said.
"He really did," she said.
I looked at her. She was blushing, her cheeks, even her freckled bosom, were bright red.
"Go on," I said, as she lay back again. "Then what happened?"
"Well . . . he called her a filthy name," she said, hesitating coyly. She was a leathery old girl with chestnut hair of fine natural wave which was now fanned out over the pillow. She was blushing quite deeply. Was this meant to excite me, or was it an unconscious expression of revulsion?
"A really filthy name," she said. "Oh, he was a brute, huge, with white teeth, what they call a 'buck.' And he said, 'Bitch, drop your drawers,' and then he did it. She's such a lovely girl, too, really delicate with a complexion like strawberries and cream. You can't imagine anyone calling her a name like that."
She sat up now, her elbows denting the pillow as she looked into my face.
"But what happened, did they catch him?" I said.
"Oh, of course not, beautiful, she only told two of us girls. She couldn't afford to let her husband hear of it. He . . . well, it's too long a story."
"It's terrible," I said. "Don't you think we should go . . . ?"
"Isn't it, though? She was in a state for months . . ." her expression flickered, became indeterminate.
"What is it?" I said, afraid she might cry.
"Oh, I was just wondering how she really felt. I really do." Suddenly she looked at me mysteriously. "Can I trust you with a deep secret?"
I sat up. "Don't tell me that it was you."
She smiled, "Oh, no, that was a dear friend of mine. But do you know what, beautiful," she said leaning forward confidentially, "I think I'm a nymphomaniac."
"You? Noooo!"
"Uh huh. Sometimes I have such thoughts and dreams. I never give into them though, but I really think I am. A woman like me has to develop an iron discipline."
I laughed inwardly. She would soon be a biddy, stout, with a little double chin and a three-ply girdle. A thin gold chain showed around a thickening ankle. And yet I was becoming aware of something warmly, infuriatingly feminine about her. I reached out, stroking her hand. "Why do you have such ideas about yourself?" I said, seeing her raise up and pluck at the corner of the pillow, drawing out a speckled feather and stripping the down from its shaft.
"Repression," she said with great sophistication. "Men have repressed us too much. We're expected to pass up too many human things. But do you know another secret?"
I bowed my head.
"You don't mind my going on, do you, beautiful?"
"No, Sybil."
"Well, ever since I first heard about it, even when I was a very little girl, I've wanted it to happen to me."
"You mean what happened to your friend?"
"Uh huh."
"Good Lord, Sybil, did you ever tell that to anyone else?"
"Of course not, I wouldn't've dared. Are you shocked?"
"Some. But Sybil, why do you tell me?"
"Oh, I know that I can trust you. I just knew you'd understand; you're not like other men. We're kind of alike."
She was smiling now and reached out and pushed me gently, and I thought, here it goes again.
"Lie back and let me look at you against that white sheet. You're beautiful, I've always thought so. Like warm ebony against pure snow -- see what you do, you make me talk poetry. 'Warm ebony against pure snow,' isn't that poetic?"
"I'm the sensitive type, you musn't make fun of me."
"But really you are, and I feel so free with you. You've no idea."
I looked at the red imprint left by the straps of her bra, thinking, Who's taking revenge on whom? But why be surprised, when that's what they hear all their lives. When it's made into a great power and they're taught to worship all types of power? With all the warnings against it, some are bound to want to try it out for themselves. The conquerors conquered. Maybe a great number secretly want it; maybe that's why they scream when it's farthest from possibility --
"That's it," she said tightly. "Look at me like that; just like you want to tear me apart. I love for you to look at me like that!"
I laughed and touched her chin. She had me on the ropes; I felt punch drunk, I