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By Root 2040 0

to the End of the Night, I mean. After that he lost stride and became a crank, bitching about his editors and his readers. It’s a real damn shame. His mind just went. I think he must have been a good doctor. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe his heart wasn’t in it. Maybe he killed his patients off. Now that would have made a good novel. Many doctors do that. They give you a pill and send you back out on the street again. They need money to pay for what their educations cost them. So they pack their waiting rooms and run the patients in and out. They weigh you, take your blood pressure, give you a pill and send you back out on the street feeling worse. A dental surgeon may take your life savings but usually he does something for your teeth.

Anyhow, I’m still writing and I seem to be making the rent. I find your letters interesting. Who took that photo of you without your panties on? A good friend, no doubt. Rex? You see, I’m getting jealous! That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Let’s just call it interest. Or concern….

I’ll watch the mailbox. Any more photos?

yours, yes, yes,

Henry

The door opened and it was Iris. I pulled the sheet out of the typewriter and laid it face down.

“Oh, Hank! I got the slut-shoes!”

“Great! Great!”

“I’ll put them on for you! I’m sure you’ll love them!”

“Baby, do it!”

Iris walked into the bedroom. I took the letter to Tanya and stuck it under a pile of papers.

Iris walked out. The shoes were bright red on viciously high heels. She looked like one of the greatest whores of all time. There were no backs on the shoes and her feet showed through the see-through material. Iris walked back and forth. She had a most provocative body and ass anyhow, and walking on those heels pushed it all sky-high. It was maddening. Iris stopped and looked back at me over her shoulder, smiled. What a marvelous chippy! She had more hip, more ass, more calf than I’d ever seen before. I ran out and poured two drinks. Iris sat down and crossed her legs high. She sat in a chair across the room from me. The miracles in my life kept occurring. I couldn’t understand it.

My cock was hard, throbbing, pushing against my pants.

“You know what a man likes,” I told Iris.

We finished our drinks. I took her by the hand into the bedroom. I pushed her on the bed. I pulled her dress back and got at her panties. It was hard work. Her panties got caught on one shoe, got hooked on the heel, but I finally got them off. Iris’s dress was still covering her hips. I raised her ass and pushed the dress up under her. She was already wet. I felt her with my fingers. Iris was almost always wet, almost always ready. She was a total joy. She had long nylon stockings with blue garters decorated with red roses. I put it into the wetness. Her legs were raised high in the air and as I caressed her I saw those slut-shoes on her feet, red heels jutting like stilettoes. Iris was in for another old-fashioned horse fuck. Love was for guitar players, Catholics and chess freaks. That bitch with her red shoes and long stockings—she deserved what she was going to get from me. I tried to rip her apart, I tried to split her in half. I watched that strange half-Indian face in the soft sunlight that filtered weakly through the blinds. It was like murder. I had her. There was no escape. I ripped and roared, slapped her across the face and nearly tore her in half.

I was surprised that she was able to get up smiling and walk to the bathroom. She looked almost happy. Her shoes had come off and were lying by the side of the bed. My cock was still hard. I picked up one of the shoes and rubbed my cock with it. It felt great. Then I put the shoe back on the floor. When Iris came out of the bathroom still smiling, my cock went down.

96

Not much happened during the rest of her stay. We drank, we ate, we fucked. There were no arguments. We took long drives down along the shore, ate at seafood cafes. I didn’t bother with writing. There were times when it was best to get away from the machine. A good writer knew when not to write. Anybody could type. Not that I was a good