A Question of Manhood (16 page)

I was washing tonight, but I didn't much care. But before he left for the evening, David came up to me and told me I'd need to do the grill tomorrow night.

“Tomorrow night?” I echoed.

“That a problem?”

“It's just that I already have plans.”

David shrugged. “Tim was gonna work, but he asked for the night off. He has seniority. So he's working early shift tomorrow, and you get late shift.”

“So, how far in advance do I need to make sure I don't get called in on some particular Saturday night in the future?”

“Ahead of anyone who's been here longer.”

On my break I called Marty. He wasn't there, of course, so I just left the message that I had to work Saturday night. He stopped by the Burger King around nine, ordered a soda and some fries, and waited till I could slip out to the back.

“What's up, Landon? You chickening out on me?”

“Hell, no! But I'm low man on the totem pole here, and I pulled this shift that I don't usually work 'cause someone else asked for the night off.”

“What about next week? I'm itchin' for some action.”

“Next week's okay. I'll let the manager know tonight.”

“Don't screw it up, kid. You'll get the wrong sort of reputation.” He jabbed me in the ribs and walked away.

I put in a request not to be assigned next Saturday night. And that next Friday night Tim was working, and I made sure he wasn't planning to dump Saturday night on me a second time.

“Sorry, Paul. Didn't mean to screw up your love life. Got big plans? Jenny again?”

“No, not Jenny. Someone else.” Feeling like a big man, I added, “Gettin' some real action.” Tim raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

 

The next Saturday, after dinner, I lied to my folks. I told them I was going over to Kevin's to work on a school project we'd been teamed up on. We weren't teamed up on any project, but when Dad asked what it was on I was ready. “The history of gun laws in the U.S.”

This set him off on a monologue about the thirty-eight Special, the primary police pistol, and I let him rant for a while before saying I had to get over to Kevin's or we wouldn't have much time to work. I got the keys to Mom's car, grabbed condoms and cash, and drove to Marty's.

We took his Mustang for our expedition, and he drove into an area of town I barely knew existed. There were X-rated movie houses and bars and all kinds of places we couldn't get into legally, but they sure set the stage for me. Marty pulled into a spot away from the lights but didn't turn off the motor. Instead, he reached under the seat and pulled out a brown bag. At first I thought it was going to be the gun, and I was a little freaked, but then he reached in and unscrewed a cap, raised the bag to his mouth, and took a few swigs from a bottle I couldn't see. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and handed the bag to me.

“Liquid courage, kid. Just in case you're nervous.”

I was, but Marty knew I wouldn't want to admit that. I drank anyway; he had, after all, so maybe he needed a little courage, too. I think it was bourbon, not really sure. It tasted lousy, and it nearly made me cough, but I was smart enough to take just a small sip first to prepare myself, and then I took a bigger gulp, and then another. I handed it back.

Marty stashed the bag again and pulled into the street. “What we're gonna do,” he told me, looking at people on the sidewalk, “is cruise around for a bit. Keep an eye out for women who look like they're advertising, and see if you like any of them. If so, tell me, and we'll see if she looks like a twenty or a fifty. The real high-priced ones won't be so obvious, so it's unlikely you'll pick up on one of those. When you see someone you want, we still drive around the block again before we say anything. If she's still there, and if she still looks like she's advertising, we make our move. And let me do the talking. Got it?”

I said, “Yeah,” but I have to admit I was in a bit of a state. I had to keep reminding myself I was practicing so I'd be ready for Jenny, or I'm not sure I could have gone through with it. At first I couldn't tell which women were the working girls, but then I figured out that they were the ones who were walking slow, or not walking at all. And there weren't many other women around here, anyway. After that I saw a lot of women who looked like they were advertising, as Marty had put it, but none of them appealed to me. They all looked—I dunno, excessive or something. Over the top. Finally Marty started pointing some out. I just kept shrugging.

“What's the matter with you, Landon? Need another swig or two?”

“They just don't look like my type, that's all.”

His guffaw nearly hurt my ears. “You idiot, of course they aren't. That's not the point. Just pick one that you can imagine putting it into, that's all. One that strikes you as maybe almost pretty, or maybe there's something about her that makes you hard. That's all we're here for. We aren't shopping for a wife, y'know.”

I steeled myself and looked harder, finally noticing one woman, girl almost, who didn't seem quite as old as the rest. She was definitely older than me, but she didn't seem like some kind of demented aunt. “That one. With the tight pink vest.”

“Good choice. Looks relatively clean. I got no problem doin' her.”

“What?”

Marty started around the block again. “What did you think? That you'd be the only one getting any tonight? You do her first, and then it's my turn.”

“Gross! I didn't think we'd be…um, with the same one.”

Marty shook his head. “You are such a baby. Do you imagine for a second you'll be the first guy at her tonight? Or the last?” He drove on in silence, rounding the block, and she was still there. She looked almost sad. But she'd positioned herself near a hydrant, so it was easy for Marty to swing the car in closer to her. Something in my head clicked, and I realized she'd probably stood there deliberately, for just such an opportunity.

“Roll down the window,” Marty said, and I did. He leaned toward it and let out a quiet whistle. The girl gazed our way and took us in for several seconds. Then she looked around her, and finally she moved over to the car, hips rolling.

“Hey, boys. Need some directions someplace?”

“How much?” is all Marty said.

She looked at him, then at me, and shrugged. After checking round once more she said, “One at a time, or together?”

“One at a time.”

“Where?”

“You got a room we can go to?”

“Fifty. Each. Meet me around the corner.” She turned to her right and walked slowly away.

“You called that one, Paulie. Right on the money. Keep your eye peeled for cops.”

For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that that's why she'd kept looking around. Now it was my turn, and I looked very, very hard. We stayed put until it was clear which corner she'd meant, and then Marty drove forward.

In my careful observation of everyone I could see, I noticed our girl stop for about one second to say something to a guy in a doorway partway down the block. “She's getting another one,” I said, straining to see him better, but it was too dark there. All I could see was that he was tall and broad.

“That's probably her pimp. He'll get a cut of her take.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Protection?”

She was waiting in a dark spot. Marty pulled over and she leaned into my window, pointing a little ahead. A smell of something that must have been perfume wafted in. “Turn right into that alley. Leave the car in the loading zone. They don't ticket on Saturday night.”

We parked and got out. I was having a little trouble breathing by this time. I shoved my right hand into my jeans pocket to stop the trembling, fingering the wrapped condoms, and then I checked in my left pocket for the cash. I hadn't brought anything else with me; I might not know a lot about pimps, but I do know that sometimes prostitutes rob their johns.

She led us down the sidewalk two doorways and up a dark stairway with no windows. It smelled of garbage and piss. I felt like I was in some stupid detective novel or something, the environment was so predictable. We walked a little way down a hall and she pulled out a key, and we went into a room not much bigger than the double bed, something that passed for linens all rumpled up on it. There was barely space beside it for a small table and a tiny lamp, which was already on, and a wooden chair. No frills, that's for sure. You can bet I recognized the smell in here.

She stood at the open door and looked at Marty. “You said one at a time. Who's first? The other waits in the hall.”

He gave her a weird grin, I guess trying to look sexy, and stepped back out of the room. She shut the door.

“Cash?”

I reached into my left pocket, and the bills were out of my hand before I'd looked up, crumpled in a hand decorated with long, pointy fingernails painted some dark color I couldn't quite make out in the dim light. I almost couldn't see her eyes, there was that much makeup on them, and the room was so dark. But I could see her eyebrows were a lot darker than her hair. I didn't see where she put my money.

“Ever done this?” she asked as she unfastened her skirt. The way she was reaching behind made her boobs nearly pop out of the pink vest. She must have had a blouse on underneath, 'cause her arms were covered in some kind of lacy sleeves, but all I could see above the vest was skin. She set the skirt on the chair seat. No need to remove underwear; she wasn't wearing any.

There was no point in lying. “No.”

“Thought so. Okay, here's the deal. No kissing. You do anything that hurts me and you're pulp. Just relax and do what I say. Can you work with that?” I nodded. “Condom?” I gave her both of the ones I had in my pocket, and she put one back. “Who d'you think you are? Superman? Take off your jacket, shoes, pants, and underwear. I don't care about the shirt or the socks.”

She unbuttoned her vest, and there was a blouse underneath, the low neckline folded down so far that it hadn't shown above the pink. She lifted the blouse over her head and stood there, hands on hips, waiting for me. I'd been so intent on watching her boobs make an appearance that I hadn't done much. I rushed now, yanking things off and throwing them in the corner.

“Lie on your back,” she told me, her voice a little gentler now. She reached down and removed the shiny black ankle boots she wore, and I watched her boobs sway and bounce. I was already hard. She got on the bed, her knees on either side of my thighs. I just stared at her boobs.

“You can touch them if you want,” she said softly. “Just be nice.”

I tried to touch them in a way that she might like, but it didn't seem as though she was even noticing. Her fingers ripped open the condom wrapper and pulled the thing out like she'd done it a billion times a day for years. I was still playing with her tits as she rolled the sheath over me. So much for my practicing. But, I told myself, I'd need to know how for Jenny. Then she pulled away where I couldn't reach her, and it worried me.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nope. Just want you to relax for a second. You wanna come while you're just wavin' in the wind?”

I made an effort to get my breathing under control again and closed my eyes. To my horror, I started to go a little soft. My eyes flew open.

She laughed softly. “Not to worry, little man,” and she worked a hand under my balls and ran her fingernail gently along the ridge behind them. I stopped worrying.

As soon as I was filling out the condom again she lifted herself over me, held my dick, and pointed it under her. She lowered herself onto me, and I swear I nearly lost it right then. Thank God I didn't, or I'd have missed the rest of what it felt like to be hard and inside her. I tried not to think about what Marty had said, that other guys' dicks had already been here tonight, and after she'd plunged down hard onto me a few times I couldn't hold back anymore. All I can say is that it felt nothing like pulling on myself until I'd soiled my sheets at home.

By the time I was able to stand, she was already dressed again. She pulled a tin bucket lined with plastic out from under the table.

“Dump it in here.”

I was glad I'd practiced getting a loaded condom off myself without making a mess, and I did what she said. She stood at the door while I dressed.

“You did okay, kid. Welcome to manhood.” She yanked open the door and jerked her head for me to exit. Marty was leaning against the opposite wall, but I knew better than to think he'd been there the whole time. I was sure he'd listened, but I didn't give a shit.

He punched my arm as he passed me, and the door closed behind him. I didn't want to listen, so I moved to where he'd been standing. I was just about to sink onto the floor when the door jerked open again. Marty stood there. “I need the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

“The other fifty. I thought you'd already given it to her.”

“I gave her fifty.”

“Yeah, I get that, so now give me the other fifty.”

I shook my head, confused. “What other fifty?”

I could see dark-tipped fingers reach round the edge of the door and try to pull it open, but Marty held it fast. He said, “I told you to bring enough for both of us.”

“You said to bring fifty. That's what I brought.”

He was struggling to hold the door by now. “We'll talk about this later.”

Somehow he got the door closed. Now I could hear whether I wanted to or not. “I told you fifty each. Forty won't cut it. If that's all you got, then get out. You're wasting my time.”

The door opened a crack and got pushed back hard against the jamb. This was getting ugly real fast; was he going to try to force her? I couldn't let that happen. No matter who had made what mistake, she'd been honest with us and good to me. I started toward the door, and then I heard her scream the name Eric.