She got up from the floor and put her empty glass on a nearby table. There wasn' t a man in the room. The rapist was leering in her face, laughing and telling her to turn to her uptown friends. The laughter of the gods. What a fool she had been to leave the city for a week. Was he walking near her doorway now, remembering her desperate invitation?
And there was Laura, conscientiously not mentioning Christopher' s name. What a bore, these transparent veneers that shrouded the truth. Of course, she conceded, sometimes the veneers kept us alive. If we deny our misery long enough, we may bury it. At least we learn that we can' t shout that we' re disappearing to insular strangers. But he was not on the island. She could sense that and it made the island dull and empty. In the same way, she knew that he was in New York. She had to get back. Maybe she could catch the morning boat? There would be no need to explain to Laura. Laura was civilized. She could just say she was leaving and rush to the streets that hid him.
She avoided the arm- in- arm lovers and walked in the direction of the sea. The eternal comforter. She started along the strand, one foot in the water, the other in the sand. Up ahead she could see a bright blazing fire. It made the sky it did not touch look blacker, and instinctively she moved toward it.
When she was close to the fire, she could hear a low soft chant, and she saw a huge pale edifice that she could not distinguish. When she drew closer, she saw that it was an enormous papier- mache penis, at least ten feet long and three feet around. Below the fantastic prick, where the testicles should have been, were two hanging balls on which were sketched grinning faces. In the spasmodic flame' s glow, she counted twenty sprawled and naked bodies. They grew silent as she approached.
" We' re having a bacchanal," a loud voice announced to her.
" Good," she responded. " I' m just in the mood."
" If you worship the invincible god Dionysus, you may join us," a thick naked body intoned.
" I am a converted believer," Gloria played back.
The twenty figures seemed to sigh relief.
" Remove your filthy encumbering garments," the man ordered. " Dionysus despises modesty."
" My clothes offend me," Gloria agreed, and she opened the side of her pants, then pulled the trousers over her ankles. Her belly gleamed pink in the glow of the fire; her legs, blackened by the sun, blended with the dark night. Her torso floated to them over the flames.
" Bare your breasts," the voice continued. " Stand before us as the god Dionysus wishes man to be."
She tugged at her black sweater, unsnapped her tissue- thin bra. Her breasts were heavy circles in the evening air. They curved skyward with unfettered pride. The voice approved of the fullness and succulence of her exposed body.
" Our god welcomes you, and invites you to sit and be one of us."
Gloria sat close to the fire, warming her front. Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, found the outlines of a young blond girl across from her who was staring at Gloria in admiration.
A thin boy with an enormous prick got to his feet and held a flute before his lips. He blew a thinly melodious song and three women undulated to the faint rhythm. They pumped their hips and buttocks and bosoms in burlesque obscenity, finally embracing and falling amorously to the sand. Gloria' s body lusted for a mouth to find her emptiness. She sat and listened to the reedy music, then a bored girl interrupted.
" Really, this is pretty dull stuff. I can' t believe the Greeks worshiped like this."
" Be quiet, unbeliever," the leader shouted.
" Well, what did we take all our clothes off for? It' s too late to get a sunburn."
" Have faith," the boy urged. " The fun hasn' t begun yet."
" The fun never begins. I' m sick and tired of this elaborate fun. I get so tense waiting to have a good time that I' m completely neurotic and miserable when something amusing does happen."
" I have prepared a little game for this evening' s prayers," the leader announced.
" Oh, goodie… games," somebody mocked.
" This game is called blind man' s bluff."
" You' re kidding."
" With a slight twist," the leader amended.
" How can you twist blind man' s bluff? It was considered passe in kindergarten."
" The blind man will be blindfolded."
" You really have this game down pat, don' t you?"
" We will all run in a circle around him."
" I don' t think I could stand that much fun."
" The person he catches," the boy continued, " be it man, woman, child, dog… do we have any dogs here?… will have to fuck the blind man."
They were all studiously silent for a moment.
" Splendid," a voice shouted. " Leader, you are a genius. That' s a splendid game. What a twist! No wonder we didn' t appreciate it in kindergarten."
" There is another condition," the spokesman continued.
They were all eager to begin.
" It is the task of the victim, in case of differences in taste or sex, to stimulate the blind man to a generous unstinted fuck. The victim must abide by the preferences of the blind man."
" Wonderful, wonderful," they declared. " Let' s begin now… immediately. Who' s the first blind man?"
The flutist lilted a merry tune and they clapped their hand like obedient children ready to play.
" I choose Henry as the first blind man," the leader announced with elected authority.
There was a gasp of surprise from a small brunette girl.
" Now, Paula," Henry warned.
Henry walked to the center of the circle, near the fire. He was ludicrously tall and skinny, and completely naked except for a brush of hair on his chin and head and between his legs. He wore thick glasses, which gave him, from the chin up, a very dressed appearance. One expected him to gravely tip a black derby.
The leader moved to tie a red and white polka dot handkerchief across Henry' s eyes. Henry' s glasses interfered with the operation, and his wife said, " Why don' t you just take off his glasses? I assure you he' ll be quite blind."
" Why don' t you stop assuring people and keep quiet," her husband insisted. But his voice was hurt; her barb had connected.
The blind man tripped away from the fire, his arms outstretched, cutting the empty but shrieking space around him. Gloria did not move from her position on the sand. She pulled her arm- wrapped knees against her chest and sat watching the bacchanal. Suddenly the blind man whirled about and caught a girl by her shoulders. He held to her firmly as the leader removed the blindfold and handed him his thickrimmed glasses. He hastily stuck the eyeglasses on his nose and looked at his prize. Then he grunted in horror as he stared into the eyes of his benign wife. He was speechless for a few seconds and then he shouted at her.
" Why the hell didn' t you keep out of my way?"
" Well how in Christ' s name did I know you were going to grab someone behind you?"
" Can' t you ever sit down… I mean just sit down on the side and watch something? Do you always have to be in the middle of all the noise, in the middle of my goddamn world!"
" I never see you on the sideline," she retorted. And they stood glaring at each other.
They turned to the leader in unison. " We don' t have to, do we? I mean, for crying out loud, we' re married. Can' t you make another rule, or give us another chance?"
The leader turned, for his answer, to the crowd.
They shouted, " THEY FUCK!"
" Okay, Paula, do your tricks," the high priest ordered.
" Oh, come off it," she pleaded in alarm.
" Look at your husband, Madame," he advised.