Women - Charles Bukowski [210]
“You really read well tonight,” she said. “You were a totally different person than the night before. I don’t know how to explain it, but at your best you have this…humanness. Most poets are such little prigs and shits.”
“I don’t like them either.”
“And they don’t like you.”
We drank some more and then went to bed. Her body was amazing, glorious, Playboy style, but unfortunately I was drunk. I did get it up, however, and I pumped and pumped, I grabbed her long hair, I got it out from under her and ran my hands through it, I was excited but I couldn’t finally do it. I rolled off, told Cassie goodnight, and slept a guilty sleep.
In the morning I was embarrassed. I was sure I would never see Cassie again. We dressed. It was about 10 AM. We walked to the M. G. and got in. I didn’t talk, she didn’t talk. I felt the fool, but there was nothing to say. We drove back to The Lancer and there was the blue Volks.
“Thanks for all of it, Cassie. Think nice thoughts about Chinaski.”
She didn’t answer. I kissed her on the cheek and got out. She drove off in the M.G. It was, after all, as Lydia had often said, “If you want to drink, drink; if you want to fuck, throw the bottle away.”
My problem was that I wanted to do both.
88
So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie.
“What are you doing, Hank?”
“Just sitting around….”
“Why don’t you come over?”
“I’d like to….”
She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A.
“I have plenty to drink,” she said. “You needn’t bring anything.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t drink anything?”
“It’s all right.”
“If you pour it, I’ll drink it. If you don’t, I won’t.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
I got dressed, jumped into the Volks, and drove to the address. How many breaks did a man have coming? The gods were good to me, of late. Maybe it was a test? Maybe it was a trick? Fatten Chinaski up, then slice him in half. I knew that might be coming too. But what can you do after a couple of 8-counts with only 2 rounds left to go?
Cassie’s apartment was on the second floor. She seemed glad to see me. A large black dog leaped on me. He was huge and floppy and male. He stood with his paws on my shoulders and licked my face. I pushed him off. He stood there wiggling his butt and making begging sounds. He had long black hair and appeared to be a mongrel, but what a big one he was.
“That’s Elton,” said Cassie.
She went to the refrigerator and got the wine.
“This is what you should drink. I’ve got plenty of it.”
She was dressed in an all-green gown which clung tightly to her. She was like a snake. She had on shoes sequined with green stones, and once again I noticed how long her hair was, not only long but full, there was such a mass of it. It came down at least to her ass. Her eyes were large and blue-green, sometimes more blue than green, sometimes the other way around, depending upon how the light hit them. I noticed two of my books in her bookcase, two of the better ones.
Cassie sat down, opened the wine and poured two.
“We kind of met somehow during that last encounter, we touched somewhere. I didn’t want to let it go,” she said.
“I enjoyed it,” I said.
“Want an upper?”
“All right,” I said.
She brought out two. Black cap. The best. I sent mine down with the wine.
“I’ve got the best dealer in town. He doesn’t rip me off,” she said.
“Good.”
“You ever been hooked?” she asked.
“I tried coke for a while, but I couldn’t stand the comedown. I was afraid to go into the kitchen the next day because there was a butcher knife in there. Besides, 50 to 75 bucks a day is beyond me.”
“I’ve got some coke.”
“I pass.”
She poured more wine.
I don’t know why, but with each new woman it seemed like the first time, almost as if I had never been with a woman before. I kissed Cassie. As I kissed her I let one hand run through all that long hair.
“Want some music?”
“No, not really.”
“You knew Dee Dee Bronson, didn’t you?” Cassie asked.
“Yes, we split.”
“You heard what happened to