" Certainly not. Rape is a masochistic fantasy. Only women who want to be raped get raped."
" Oh for God' s sake," Gloria said with exasperation. " Goodbye."
She moved out of the bed and saw the sloppy pile of clothes heaped on the floor. I should take a shower before I get dressed. I don' t want to feel all wet and then get dry and be clean, she thought incoherently. Entirely too much fuss about being clean. As if living is a sin and we wash off the traces of it every day.
She reached into the pile of clothes for her pants, and released the silk stockings from the garters. She pulled the silk panties up around her hips and felt the wetness of Paul' s sperm against her crotch and a little down her thighs. If only the wetness were from the rapist. His eyes had been like white milky sperm. Probably his whole body was filled with sperm up to the top of his head, and his prick was its only exit. So his whole body worked to explode in a woman.
Gloria fastened her bra blindly behind her back and slipped the coffee- colored sweater over her head. She stepped into striped gray and brown pants, tight around her belly and hips, and clinging to her rounded calves.
At least if I get out of the house, I' ll stop thinking about him. Maybe he' ll be in one of the bars. He might be along McDougal Street or Third Street. I' ll look in the coffee houses for him and the bookstores.
She walked down the four flights of stairs, stopping behind the stairway when she reached the bottom. There were a few spots of blood dried on the tiled floor. So ithad happened. She pushed the hall door open and felt the evening air against her face. She walked down 10th Street, heading towards Washington Square. Maybe he' ll be sitting in the circle, listening to the guitar players.
The park was alive with people. Young beautiful boys walked in pairs, their tightly blue jeaned legs outlining the curved space between their thighs and their bulging sex. Size was the absolute standard for gay boys. Size queens. And they so arrogantly pushed their ten inches of male- devoted pricks before them.
Walking at the side of the lovers, like precious children, muscled boxers and sleek Dalmatians sniffed at neighboring dogs. Even the dogs in Washington Square were faggots, sniffing with equal interest at male and female. One of the boys turned and looked at her and recognized her. His eyes were soft and pained like a poodle' s.
" Gloria, the most beautiful woman in New York."
" Hello, Jack."
" Honestly, honey, you make me want to go straight."
" Maybe we should try."
" Babycakes, set a date."
" Now, right here in the middle of the Circle in the Square."
" I don' t think Harry would forgive me."
" Bring Harry along. We' ll make a threesome."
" Gloria, I almost feel like forgiving you for being a woman. If you were a man, I could love you."
" You' re afraid once you get inside me I' d never let you out."
" My balls are too precious to share with a woman."
" Just think of yourself as a machine, a fucking machine that we use."
" Lovely."
" You know, nothing personal or involving about it."
" Jesus, baby. My jeans aren' t big enough for this kind of talk."
" They' re perfect," cooed Gloria." I like to know what effect I' m having."
" Look, darling, I' m game if you' d like to try. Threesomes really are a ball."
" Jack," she said, feeling the gnawing inside her that made the talking not a game, " I have to look for someone now. If I find him, he has preference. But stop by at 11 o' clock if my eyes aren' t good."
" Harry, too?"
" You know I wouldn' t leave Harry out of anything."
" Darling, he' ll be thrilled. You know, he used to make it with women, and every now and then, he thinks of them. It drives me mad. This might solve all my problems."
" Solve some of mine, Jack."
" What' s the matter, baby? You look as though your best friend fucked your other best friend."
" Just come at eleven. I wouldn' t be able to get through this night alone."
" Darling, I never knew you were so civilized."
She smiled grimly at him. " Do you know a man with white eyes?"
" White eyes? He sounds adorable. Can he come too?"
" If he comes, it' s a party for two."
" Oh, you mean he has characteristics other than white eyes."
" Yes. He has a beautiful huge cock."
" Gloria, please! I' m only gay… not perverted like other people."
" See you at eleven, Jack."
" With bells on."
" That' s original."
" Darling, you' ll clang."
" Eleven."
She watched his slim hips saunter away, so eager to deliver the surprising news to Harry. She thought of Harry' s sleek body. Oh God, if only they could help her. Harry had been a football star at Wisconsin. He had thick muscled thighs. That she had seen at Fire Island the summer before. The boys looked at him with hot awe, and this was Jack' s season. She hoped he had a big prick.
Gloria turned her head and looked at the couples – old ladies and turtle- necked aesthetes sitting on benches. Their voices droned on
… " Nothing' s been written since Harry James…"… " Joyce was the end of the novel"… " So I said to him, I' m no easy lay"… " I mean he' s a bore, and compulsively clean. Always picking things up after me." But no white eyes and no thick, cruel voice saying, " Just a quiet party."
She crossed the lane, stopping over the cement steps of the Circle in the Square. Some unshaven intellects were playing the guitar and singing Harry Chapin songs. They seemed contented and complete.
She sat and listened to them, feeling the empty space between her legs. She remembered the moment when he had pulled her paralyzed legs around his hips and his cock had been rigid before him. At least I excited him. He had wanted her desperately at that moment. He would have killed her had she resisted, and taken her dead. I would have felt it even if I were dead. Her tight cunt had tried to keep him out, but he had ripped into her, not feeling the impotent resistance of her flesh. Maybe I' m the first virgin he' s ever had. Maybe he' ll remember me. Maybe I' m a special lay, and my cunt throbs in a way no man has ever experienced. But he had left. With cold disdain. He had left with what he' d come for. Why hadn' t he wanted more? Why could men be satisfied and be left whole and separate? Why couldn' t they leave a part of their prick in you, and screw you viciously every night and morning to get it back? Why couldn' t one woman' s cunt be a maddening mystery to them? To keep them kneeling forever before you. They got on their knees like slaves, but got up like masters. As if they resented their need to fuck, and walked away free, till the sperm collected in them once again. What a lousy joke. What a miserable riddle, that they resented their need. And most resented having it satisfied. Yes, they called professional virgins cockteasers… but atease was the best part of their game. And a woman didn' t feel like that. Once a cock got in her – a big comfortable maddening one – she never wanted to let it out. It was like getting back a missing piece. Maybe women can do something to each other, since they all share the same defeat. I' ll try women if I don' t find him. I' ll try anything. There' s only one thing I want more than him in me – I want him dead. I must have my victory to live again. I' ll find him. I' ll kill him in me. So he can have his last gasping orgasm in me. An orgasm to last him for eternity. And he' ll lie in his grave with all the sperm shot out of him, finished.
Gloria stepped across the cement barrier and walked toward McDougal Street. He might be in El Remo, sitting with the junkies and asking if anyone knew where to get some pot. Conrad or Maurice may recognize him if I describe him. They know everybody who steps below Fourteenth Street. He' s as good as dead. I' ll buy a knife and keep it in my bag. I' ll exchange knives with him. See which cuts deeper.