Women - Charles Bukowski [86]
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 her?”
“No.”
“First she lost her job, then she went to Mexico. She met a retired bullfighter. The bullfighter beat the shit out of her and took her life savings, $7,000.”
“Poor Dee Dee: from me to that.”
Cassie got up. I watched her walk across the room. Her ass moved and shimmered under that tight green gown. She came back with papers and some grass. She rolled a joint.
“Then she got in a car crash.”
“She never could drive. Do you know her well?”
“No. But we hear about things in the industry.”
“Just living until you die is hard work,” I said.
Cassie passed the joint. “Your life seems in order,” she said.
“Really?”
“I mean, you don’t come on or try to impress like some men. And you seem naturally funny.”
“I like your ass and your hair,” I said, “and your lips and your eyes and your wine and your place and your joints. But I’m not in order.”
“You write a lot about women.”
“I know. I wonder sometimes what I will write about after that.”
“Maybe it won’t stop.”
“Everything stops.”
“Let me have some of that joint.”
“Sure, Cassie.”
She took a hit and then I kissed her. I pulled her head back by the hair. I forced her lips open. It was a long one. Then I let her go.
“You like that, don’t you?” she asked.
“To me it’s more personal and sexual than fucking.”
“I think you’re right,” she said.
We smoked and drank for several hours, then went to bed. We kissed and played. I was good and hard and I stroked her well, but after ten minutes I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Too much to drink again. I began to sweat and strain. I stroked some more, then rolled off.
“I’m sorry, Cassie….”
I watched her head move down to my penis. It was still hard. She began licking it. The dog jumped up on the bed and I kicked him off. I watched Cassie licking my cock. The moonlight came through the window and I could see her clearly. She took the end of my dick in her mouth and just nibbled at it. Suddenly she went for it all and she worked well, running her tongue up and down the length of my cock as she sucked. It was glorious.
I reached down and grabbed her hair with one hand and held it up, held it high over her head, all that hair, as she sucked on my cock. It lasted a long time but finally I could feel myself getting ready to come. She sensed it too and redoubled her efforts. I began making whimpering sounds and I could hear the big dog whimpering on the rug along with me. I liked that. I held back as long as I could to prolong the pleasure. Then, still holding and caressing her hair, I exploded in her mouth.
When I awakened the next morning Cassie was getting dressed.
“That’s all right,” she said, “you can stay. Just be sure you lock the door when you leave.”
“All right.”
After she left I took a shower. Then I found a beer in the refrigerator, drank that, dressed, said goodbye to Elton, made sure the door was locked, got into the Volks and drove back home.
89
Three or four days later I found her note and phoned Debra. She said, “Come on over.” She gave me the directions to Playa del Rey and I drove over. She had a small rented house with a front yard. I drove into the front yard, got out of the car and knocked, then rang. It was one of those two-tone bells. Debra opened the door. She was as I remembered her, with enormous lipstick mouth, short hairdo, bright earrings, perfume, and almost always, that wide smile.
“Oh, come in, Henry!”
I did. There was a guy sitting there but he was obviously a homosexual so it wasn’t really an affront.
“This is Larry, my neighbor. He lives in the house in back.”
We shook hands and I sat down.
“Is there anything to drink?” I asked.
“Oh, Henry!”
“I can go get something. I would have, only I didn’t know what