Women - Charles Bukowski [90]
I began to think about Debra and Tessie in the antique shop. I really didn’t like Debra, but there I was entering her life. It made me feel like a peep-freak.
I sat drinking the beer. I was down to the last can when they finally came out.
“Oh Henry,” said Debra, “I found the nicest marble top table for only $200!”
“It’s really fabulous!” said Tessie.
They climbed into the car. Debra pressed her leg against mine, “Have you been bored with all this?” she asked.
I started the engine and drove to a liquor store and bought 3 or 4 bottles of wine, cigarettes.
That bitch Tessie in her short red skirt with her nylons, I thought to myself as I paid the liquor store man. I bet she has done in at least a dozen good men without even thinking about it. I decided her problem was not thinking. She didn’t like to think. And that was all right because there weren’t any laws or rules about it. But when she reached 50 in a few years she’d begin to think! Then she’d be a bitter woman in a supermarket, jamming her shopping cart into people’s backs and ankles in the check-out line, her dark shades on, her face puffed and unhappy, her cart filled with cottage cheese, potato chips, pork chops, red onions and a quart of Jim Beam.
I went back to the car and we drove to Debra’s place. The girls sat down. I opened a bottle and poured 3 glasses.
“Henry,” said Debra, “I’m going to get Larry. He’ll drive me down in his van to pick up my table. You needn’t endure that, aren’t you glad?”
“Yes.”
“Tessie will keep you company.”
“All right.”
“You two behave yourselves now!”
Larry came in through the back door and he and Debra walked out the front. Larry warmed up the van, and they drove off.
“Well, we’re alone,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Tessie. She sat very still, looking straight ahead. I finished my drink and went to the bathroom to take a piss. When I came out Tessie was still sitting quietly on the couch.
I walked along behind the couch. When I reached her I took her under the chin and tipped her face up. I pressed my mouth against hers. She had a very large head. She had purple makeup smeared under her eyes and she smelled like stale fruit juice, apricots. She had thin silver chains dangling from each ear and at the end of each chain hung one ball—symbolic. As we kissed I reached down into her blouse. I found a breast and cupped my hand on it and rolled it around. No brassiere. Then I straightened up and pulled my hand away. I walked around the couch and sat down next to her. I poured two drinks.
“For an ugly old son of a bitch, you’ve got a lot of balls,” she said.
“How about a quickie before Debra gets back?”
“No.”
“Don’t hate me. I’m just trying to enliven the party.”
“I think you stepped out of bounds. What you just did was gross and obvious.”
“I guess I lack imagination.”
“And you’re a writer?”
“I write. But mostly I take photographs.”
“I think you fuck women just in order to write about fucking them.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“O.K., O.K., forget it. Drink up.”
Tessie went back to her drink. She finished it and put her cigarette down. She looked at me, blinking her long false eyelashes. She was like Debra with a big lipstick mouth. Only Debra’s mouth was darker and didn’t glisten as much. Tessie’s was a bright red and her lips glistened, she held her mouth open, continually licking her lower lip. Suddenly Tessie grabbed me. That mouth opened over my mouth. It was exciting. I felt as if I was being raped. My cock began to rise. I reached down while she was kissing me and flipped her skirt back, ran my hand up her left leg as we continued to kiss.
“Come on,” I said, after the kiss.
I took her by the hand and led her into Debra’s bedroom. I pushed her down on the bed. The bedspread was on. I pulled off my shoes and pants, then pulled her shoes off. I kissed her a long one, then I pulled the red skirt up over her hips. No pantyhose. Nylons and pink panties. I pulled the panties