The Mysterious Case of Betty Blue (2 page)

Goose bumps and shivers were beyond his
control. It was a kind of electrical shock—what pure fear did to a
man. Her hands were on him, up close to his throat.

She began to knead and massage Scott’s
shoulders. At first he resisted, and then with a recognition that
nothing like this had ever happened in his life, not in his entire
stinking life, Scott gave in again.

He sat there and let it
happen.

Psychotic or something, he decided. She
could have gutted me first thing if that’s what she really wanted
to do. It’s not like there were going to be any
eyewitnesses.

Yeah, but who in the hell is
she?

And why.

The realization that she could have
done anything she wanted with him was no comfort. Thank all the
psycho-slasher melodramas on TV for that. He’d listened to one too
many.

He slumped in his chair.

“
That’s better. I promise,
a nice hot bath will make you feel a whole lot better.”

“
Betty.”

“
Yes, Scott?”

“
Why are you doing all
this? Please don’t think that I’m not grateful—” He left the part
about not being a charity case unsaid, hoping that she would get
it.

He left out all the stuff about a man’s
dignity.

She had done enough for him. He
understood and accepted her need to do this. And yes; he needed
someone to do something nice for him once in a while. As well. And
that should have been that.

“
I don’t know why,
Scott.”

It seemed like a pretty good answer,
all things considered.

Scott hadn’t done the laundry in three
or four weeks. He hadn’t actually showered this morning, having
slept in a bit, and then he was feeling very tired for some reason.
Then the cheque came in the mail, and if he was going to the bank
he might as well get it over with. His breath was bad after ten
cheap, off-the-cuff contraband smokes and a coffee. His feet stank.
Blind as he was he had no illusions about his looks and certainly
no unrealistic expectations of the crummy Salvation Army and thrift
store attire. The kitchen garbage was beginning to smell. He’d been
cramming as much as possible into the bag, which cost six cents
each, before taking it out. It was probably the soup-can of bacon
grease in there, and his place was often quite warm.

He hadn’t shaved in four or five days,
when last it was, he couldn’t quite recall. While he still had a
stick of deodorant in the bathroom, it was like he hardly ever used
it anymore. He was trying to make it last a while.

Scott became very aware of all
shortcomings in that exact moment. He really had let himself go—and
to hell with it.

What in the hell was wrong with this
woman?

The one thing he dare not ask was, why
me?

Please don’t say it. Please don’t tell
me.

Why me?

***

“
Would you…would you
please step out of the room, if only for a moment, Betty?
Please?”

“
Don’t be silly. I’ve seen
plenty of men’s bodies.”

Scott gave a funny, high-pitched
little moan as her strong fingers took his upper arms and spun him
twenty degrees to the left or so and then she was unbuttoning his
shirt.

“
Betty, I mean
really.”

“”
It’s okay Scott. Don’t
worry about it. I’m very glad to help.” He lifted his arms and she
got his tee-shirt off.

He heard it hit the floor somewhere
off in the background.

“
At least you’re calling
me Betty now.” There was a brightness of expression in
there.

He still couldn’t really read her
emotional state. She was too new.

Maybe she was just happy or
something.

He sensed her kneeling, and very fluid
and graceful a move it was. This was the brightest room in the
place, facing south over the alley and towards a gap in the tall
buildings to the southwest. The last of the sunset was coming right
in. It was all he could do to keep up with her.

“
Lift your left
foot.”

“
Ah”

“
Come on, Scott. You can
do it. Don’t be a fraidy-cat.”

She was chiding him like a little kid
or something. His face was suddenly wreathed in a smile.

Just the tone in her voice was what
did it. Unbelievable. You really had to admire her gall.

The smile faded.

“
Oh, God.” He shook his
head in despair and submission.

He was a little kid again.

Holy, Jesus, who is this
girl.

He lifted his left foot and she
steadied him with one hand clamped on his other leg while she
peeled it expertly off.

They repeated the process with the
other foot.

This is where he baulked.

“
No,
seriously.”

“
What, are you shy? But
why?”

“
Yes!”

“
That’s okay, I’m not.” He
could almost sense her impatience. “Come on, Scott.”

He could feel the heat of her body,
barely a foot in front of him.

Scott hastily backed up and she had to
grab him and steady him because he hadn’t been standing exactly
where he thought, and he hit the laundry hamper by the
door.

“
Come to mama.”

“
Oh, Lord.” He protested
feebly.

She held him up, steadying
him.

She dragged him two steps
forward.

Finally he gave up. She was tugging at
the top button of his jeans.

“
Aw. No. Let me do it, for
Christ’s sakes.” He wasn’t helpless.

What had started off as fear had
transformed itself into anger, something he hadn’t felt in a very
long while—perhaps too long. His jaw worked back and forth
uncontrollably. It was like a little red switch being flipped in
your head.

So you want to be like that,
eh?

You have no idea, baby? No clue?
Really?

Face hot and red, although he was
completely unconscious of that, he pulled off his jeans. They were
a bit tight but they still fit. He stumbled and hopped for a moment
but he did it alone and without help. The exertion and the anger
had him gasping for air. There were going to be some
consequences.

Little lady.

What was coming along pretty well in
terms of erections un-snagged from the top of his underwear, and
popped up as if to take a long deep breath of fresh air. He stuck
his jaw out and kept his mouth stubbornly clamped shut. He threw
the underwear aside angrily, but she just ignored it all as far as
he could determine by sound.

Fine. Be that way.

He didn’t say it.

What did you expect,
anyways?

He wasn’t trying to impress her. He
was damned angry, right about then. And yet…he supposed he didn’t
want it to end, either. She smelled so good, and what in the hell
was she doing here?

“
All right, let’s get you
into the bath then.”

That was all she said, curiously
deflating it was, for which he was grateful in some ways. His boner
subsided, only slightly. The edge of the tub was up against the
side of the calf of his right leg and he stepped into
nearly-scalding water with her hand on his lower back and his lower
bicep hard in her other hand.

He found the usual places to put his
hands and cautiously lowered himself down into the
water.

“
There. See.”

“
Ah.” The water stung in a
ring around him as it rose up on his flesh.

The air was steamy and the room nice
and warm. The sound of light jazz came from the radio on the hall
table. He hardly ever turned it on anymore.

He heard her moving beside
him.

The colour of the water, barely
visible to Scott, and the feel of it, told Scott that she had found
some kind of bath foam under the sink. There was some stuff there
from a previous tenant, which he had ignored until today. He
couldn’t actually read the labels and yet there was stuff in
it—he’d opened one and had a good sniff at it, a few weeks after
moving in.

There was a curiously feminine scent
coming up off the water.

“
What the hell is
that?”

“
Pardon me?”

“
Sorry. What’s that
smell?”

“
Oh.” She went over to the
wastebasket and pulled something out. “It’s called
Ginseng.”

He snorted. A freakin’ aphrodisiac.
Who needs it?

“
Yeah, right.”

So she said she needed somebody. Or
no. She said she didn’t know why. The lady didn’t know
why.

He wondered just exactly what the lady
meant by that.

She seemed awfully intense, and
painfully naive or something. She must be insane.

It was just his luck.

***

Scott bent his knees and eased himself
a little deeper into the water. He was a terribly shy man, and what
in the hell were you supposed to do about it?

Normally he would take a shower, and
this was an unaccustomed luxury.

He was just trying to think of what to
say when she turned abruptly, opened the door and left.

Betty went out into the kitchen. He
heard glass clink out there.

She came right back.

“
Here.”

“
What is it?”

Rather than answer, she lifted his
wrist and then something hard and cold brushed his
fingertips.

His hand closed on a glass. Bringing it
up to his face he recognized it. It was the last of the London Dry
Gin. Of all things. He was sort of keeping it in reserve, as he
didn’t usually drink gin.

Gin had to have the proper mixers and
he usually just bought a six-pack and drank two or three at a
time.

“
Thank you.
Betty—”

He didn’t get to finish as the sound of
her zipper going downwards along the lithe curve of her spine
caused his brain to completely lock up on him for ten or fifteen
seconds or so.

His ears weren’t fooling
him.

He took a quick slug of the gin. It
definitely helped.

A bare leg came over the side and her
foot probed the foamy blue waters to find where his legs were under
the surface.

He sat up and pulled in his feet as
best he could. Scott wished he could see what the hell was going
on. Betty settled into the water, he thought facing him from the
sound of her voice.

“
It’s okay, Scott. I just
needed somebody.”

Her wet hands clasped his
knees.

His jaw went back and forth in
deliberation and his penis went up like a periscope.

“
Oh, my God.”

What she did next seemed almost
inevitable, judging by the last ten minutes or so, but even then it
still came as something of a shock.

There was still that hint of terror,
deep down inside, but some other part of his mind retained enough
objectivity to realize that what he really ought to do was to try
and relax and enjoy himself.

While it was true the building
superintendent, Mrs. Jarvis, who lived down below, was a bit hard
of hearing, the one thing he must promise himself was not to scream
or moan or thrash about too much if he could possibly help
it.

It had been so long since he had
touched another person, or felt their warmth up close.

***

The first morning was the best, the
worst, and in every way terrifying. It was also elevating, exalting
even. She had transformed his life, if only it turned out to be
real. Hell, if only for a moment.

This new love in his life—Scott wasn’t
sure if he was entirely justified in calling it that, but he was
sure as hell enamored of Betty. He could learn to love her if he
wasn’t so damned scared of what was happening.

If he could only relax a little. There
were too many fears to overcome.

Who was she?

It couldn’t last. There had to be some
kind of a catch. It was all a big mystery.

But to wake up, have your eyes pop
open, with a bit of a woodie in your pants, and to discover that it
was real. To realize that last night had not been a dream or a
hallucination. There was someone in the bed beside him. Someone
soft, and warm, and beautiful.

Kill me now while I’m still
happy.

Come on, God, you’ve never let me down
before—you bastard.

Scott had been afraid to let on that he
was awake for fear of ruining the illusion. There came a time when
you had to pee and there was no more delaying.

He didn’t know what to make of
it.

***