Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [267]
Laughter came from every side though nobody else was dancing and the only player was a saxophonist. The rest of the orchestra sat with girls on cushions round the floor and he suddenly saw Libby very clearly. She leaned against the drummer, a middle-aged man with horn-rimmed glasses. Her gracefully plump young body yearned toward him, little ripples flowed up it, thrusting her shoulder into his armpit, a breast against his side. Lanark hurried over and said, “Libby, please, was it—was it you, please?”
“Nyuck!” she said with a disgusted grimace. “Certainly not!”
“It’s all sliding away from me,” wept Lanark, covering his eyes.
“Sliding into the past, further and further. It was lovely, and now it has turned to jeering.”
A hand seized his arm and a voice said, “Take a grip of yourself.”
“Don’t let go,” said Lanark opening his eyes. He saw a small, lean, young-looking man with crew-cut hair, black sweater, slacks and sandshoes.
The man said, “You’re being bloody embarrassing. I know what you need. Come with me.”
Lanark let himself be led up to the top floor, which was completely empty. He said, “Who are you?”
“Think a bit.”
The voice sounded familiar. Lanark peered closely and saw deep little creases at the corners of the eyes and mouth which showed that this smooth, pale, ironical face belonged to quite an old man.
He said, “You can’t be Gloopy.”
“Why not?”
“Gloopy, you’ve changed. You’ve improved.”
“Can’t say the same for you.”
“Gloopy, I’m lonely. Lost and lonely.”
“I’ll help you out. Sit there.”
Lanark sat at a table. Gloopy went to the nearest bar and returned with a tall glass. He said, “There you are. A rainbow.” Lanark gulped it and said, “I thought you were operating as a lift, Gloopy.”
“Doesn’t do to stay too long at the same thing. What is it you want? Sex, is it?”
“No, no, not just sex, something more gentle and ordinary.” Gloopy frowned and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He said, “You’ll have to spell it out more definite than that. Think carefully. Male or female? How old? What posture?”
“I want a woman who knew and liked me a long time ago and still likes me. I want her to take me in her arms easily, casually, as if it was a simple thing to do. She’ll find me cold and unresponsive at first, I’ve lived too long alone, you see, but she mustn’t be put off by that. We’ll sleep together calmly all night, and then I’ll lose my fear of her and toward morning I’ll wake with an erection and she’ll caress me and we’ll make love without worry or fuss. And spend all day in bed, eating, reading and cuddling happily, making love if we feel like it and not bothered by each other.”
“I see. You want a mother figure.”
“No!” yelled Lanark. “I don’t want a mother figure, or a sister figure, or a wife figure, I want a woman, an attractive woman who likes me more than any other man in the world yet doesn’t pester me!”
“I can probably fix you up with something like that,” said Gloopy. “So stop shouting. I’ll give you one more drink, and then we visit your rooms in Olympia. All types of attractive bints in Olympia.”
“My rooms? Olympia?”
“Olympia is the delegates’ repose village. Didn’t they tell you?”
“Are you a pimp, Gloopy?” said Lanark, gulping another white rainbow.
“Yeah. One of the best in the business. There’s a great need for us in times like these.”
“Times like what, Gloopy?”
“Don’t you read the glossies? Don’t you watch the talk shows?
Ours is an era of crumbling social values. This is the age of alienation and non-communication. The old morals and manners are passing away and the new lot haven’t come in yet. Result is, men and women can’t talk about what they want from each other. In an old-fashioned flower culture like Tahiti a girl would wear a pink hibiscus blossom behind her left ear, which meant, I got a good boyfriend but I’d like to have two. So the boys understood her, see? The European aristocracy used to have a very sophisticated sex language using fans, snuffboxes and monocles. But nowdays people are so desperate for lack of a language that they