The third time, he paid for his room at the Roosevelt (twenty-eight bucks), then left because he was too bored to stay. The Mansfield, a little farther south, looked right, but he decided to try the West Side. The Algonquin amused him for a month or two — the rooms were not terribly expensive, and the girls more experienced, as if they had tried out for the Plaza and the Waldorf but hadn’t made the cut. Four girls there — Leslie, Peachy, Zandra (really?), and Honey. He was ready for someplace new.
He got as far south as the Chelsea Hotel, and he liked that — there were girls coming out of every door and leaning out of every window. But he didn’t fit there, with his clean suit, nice shoes, and carefully cut hair. Better to observe the Chelsea Hotel from a distance. Three blocks away, he happened upon a ramshackle, narrow building on West Twentieth Street that faced north. The bar was called the Grand Canyon, and it had two entrances and a large window looking out onto the street. He walked through twice, looked around, greeted the desk clerk in a friendly way and reserved a room, then returned to the Grand Canyon. Three people sitting at the bar. The tables empty. Frank sat by the window. Because it was late May, the light was fairly bright. None of the regulars wanted to sit in the glare.
Frank asked the bartender for a gin and tonic. He took his drink to the sunny table and sat down. A new mixer, Bitter Lemon, masked the flavor of the gin almost entirely. He formed the name with his lips, and made up his mind to look for some. The first girl through the door caught his eye, gave him a big smile. She went to the bar, ordered a Scotch and soda, and made an elaborate show of walking past him, looking for a table, then walking past him again. When she finally settled herself, he looked over at her, lifted his eyebrow, and smiled. His smile, he knew, was irresistible. He was no less good-looking than he had always been, just sharper and harder.
This one was wearing a mouton jacket. The waist of her dress was cinched tight, and she had Jayne Mansfield tits, but Frank estimated that she had ten years on Jayne Mansfield. She got up and came over to him, not forgetting to sway her hips and let her eyelids droop. She said, “You from around here?”
Frank cocked his head, neither shaking it nor nodding. He gestured for her to sit down. She said, “You staying at this hotel?” She waved her hand to indicate the building they were sitting in. Frank kept smiling.
She said, “Yeah, well. Fine.” She smiled and took a sip of her drink. Frank felt himself get a little excited. There was a kind of run-down quality about her that he hadn’t seen much of lately. He took his room key out of his pocket and set it on the table. She nodded, then smiled and said, “So I guess you aren’t from around here. By the looks of you, you must be from Germany, maybe, but that’s okay with me. I was just a kid in the war. Worse now, in a way, at least where I’m from — Allentown, that is, a little ways west of here.” She babbled on, confident that he didn’t understand a word of what she was saying. She smiled at odd places in her discourse, he supposed to keep him interested. “So, anyway, they say New York’s a big city and all, but it’s just another small town. Me, I would like to go somewhere else, but I can never get together the dough.” Frank noticed that her right cheekbone was a little bruised, carefully made up. What got him a little more excited — the bruise itself or the care in hiding it — he didn’t know. He moved to stand up. She said, “Okay, then, Mr. Schulz, yes, let’s get it over with, since you ain’t got much to say.”
They went out of the bar and through the lobby; he put his hand on the back of her waist and guided her away from the elevator and toward the staircase, which was shabbily elaborate, with a faded green silk rope and tassels looped along the pink-satin-papered wall. He pressed her up the stairs. He heard her say, “I guess it isn’t enough to work all day, can’t even take the elevator.” She probably didn’t know that she had a magnificent ass, perfectly heart-shaped and outlined by the shiny material of her burgundy-colored skirt. He kept her in front of him, and handed her the key. When she unlocked the door, he pushed it open and pushed her through so that she stumbled, though she didn’t fall. She said, “Hey! Nein! Nein with the rough stuff, Herr Schulz!”
Frank smiled and nodded.
He was gentle after that, but quick — he had a huge erection, hard and upright, throbbing against the belt of his pants. As soon as he was inside the room with the door shut, he stepped out of his shoes and dropped his trousers. Her eyes widened.
She set down her purse, stepped out of her own shoes. Her skirt had a side zipper, and it took her a moment to get out of it. She was wearing a pretty tight girdle, which was arousing, and after she took off her stockings (carefully, so as not to run them), it took her some effort to slip out of it. She kept her eyes on him, though — alternating between looking at his cock, which he was stroking and then slipping into the condom he had brought along, and his face.
He didn’t give her time to take off her blouse, just sat her firmly on the end of the bed and then pushed her back. He was so excited that he had to close his eyes as soon as he entered her and think of Andy to calm himself down, Andy smoothing Pond’s cold cream all over her face. Then he opened his eyes, and his face was right beside the face of this whore; her eyes were greenish gray, and you could see the bottom arc of the pupils above her darkly mascaraed lower lids. He had his hands on her perfect ass and he was tearing her apart.
Or so it seemed, but of course not. He finished thrusting and she gave an unconscious little sigh, waited a polite few moments, and then eased him off her and went into the bathroom.
When she came out, he almost forgot that he couldn’t speak English, but he remembered at the last moment, and just took two twenties out of his billfold and held them out to her. He threw the twenties on the bed and shrugged. She paused, then reached out and took them, putting them in her handbag without finding her own wallet. Then she pulled out a pack of Kents and a Zippo lighter and went over to the window, which she opened three inches. She said, “You know, stupid me, I gotta have a smoke first, even before I put my clothes back on. I been smoking since I was thirteen — can you believe that? — my brother got me going. He used to swipe my dad’s Viceroys. My dad thought he was smoking four packs a day!” She laughed.
Frank couldn’t stand this woman. She was perfect.
He was out of there by six and home by six-forty-five. It was still light, and Janny was playing with another girl from down the street — what was her name? — they were tossing Janny’s Pluto Platter back and forth. Frank was in a good mood, so he didn’t let their clumsiness bother him. He went through the gate, set down his briefcase, and said, “Hey, girls. Let me show you a trick.”
Janny approached him more suspiciously than the neighbor girl, who walked right over and handed him the disc. Janny stood off a step or two. He knelt on one knee and put the girl’s hand on the front of the disc, then put his head next to hers and his hand over hers. Then he said, “Okay, now, you keep your hand flat and your thumb up and you watch the top of the Pluto Platter the whole time you’re throwing it. You look at where you want to throw it until you let go. You want to throw it right where your thumb is, okay?” Then they tossed it toward the gate, and it landed on the walk right there, in front of the gate. The girl jumped away from him and said, “That was good!” She ran to get it.
Janny said, “I want to try it.”
“Okay, then. Come over here.” She nestled against him suddenly, as if her usual reserve had collapsed. The neighbor girl brought them the Pluto Platter. He kept his mouth shut, but Janny had been listening, and she arranged herself the way the other girl had and tossed the disc. It went right over the gate and into the street. He squeezed her shoulder and said, “Good for you, Janny,” then gently, ever so gently, pushed her away.