Then I reached for the telephone.
I looked at the ad again, then dialed the number, calling off each digit aloud to myself. I heard the clicks and switches, and then the ringing of the phone.
I covered the receiver with my hand and looked toward the bathroom. The shower was still running.
A man answered the phone. "Hello?" he said. His voice was garbled and full of sleep.
"Hello," I answered. I was whispering into the receiver. "Is this…" I lost the name. I grabbed for the paper and found the ad. "Is this… Anthony Salerno?"
"Who is this?"
"Is this he?"
"Yeah…"
"You don't know me. My (name is Wendy Allen. I'm calling about your ad in Humper."
"Is this some kind of joke, lady?"
"No it's not-"
"You know, it's six o'clock in the morning!" he said. "I work nights…"
"I'm very sorry. I have to talk fast, my husband's in the shower, and he'll be out any moment."
He was silent for a moment. "So?"
"Well, I'm calling about the ad. I want you to fuck me.
"Are you putting me on?"
"No, I'm very serious. I'd like to meet you today. Preferably sometime this morning."
"You sure this isn't a gag?"
"Look, mister! What do I have to do? Shove the receiver up my cunt before you believe me?"
"Okay, lady. I'm sorry. It's just so early in the morning. I get so many crank calls-"
"I understand," I said. "Look, I'm kind of in a hurry. I don't want to get caught on the telephone. My husband will be out any second."
"Sure lady. What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to meet you. Is this morning all right?"
"This morning will be great. What time?"
"I'm not sure. It depends on which train I catch into the city. But sometime this morning."
"Okay. I'll be here all morning."
"Let me see. Yes. How can I get to your apartment from the Long Island Railroad?"
"I got an idea, lady. You come into the city first, then call me from the railroad. I'll be home all morning. I'll give you the directions then."
"Still don't believe me, do you?"
"Jes! Don't get me wrong…"
"Okay," I said. "Settled then. I'll call you when I'm in the city."
"Fine."
"Just one more thing, Mr. Salerno-"
"Call me Tony."
"In the ad, Tony, it says that you're well hung. Just how well hung are you."
"You mean my…"He hesitated. "Yes. Your cock. How big is it?", "Nine inches."
I was silent this time. "Wow!" I finally whispered.
"See you later," he said.
"Good-bye."
I hung up the receiver. Then: Damn it! I'd planned to tell him I was masturbating. I forgot to tell him.
Well, never mind, I thought. I can tell him later this morning.
When Mark reentered the bedroom, he found me up and dressing.
"What are you doing. Wendy?" he asked.
"Just getting dressed," I told him. "I feel like going into the city today. Do a little shopping."
Chapter 7
"Come on in," Tony Salerno said.
I stood in the doorway for just the briefest of seconds before I entered the apartment. I was rather surprised at the way he looked. I was expecting some kind of seedy, slobbering deviate or-toothless old man. But Tony Salerno was neither. He was a rather plain looking, almost handsome man, with dark eyes and long black hair. He was clean shaven, and wore a white shirt and black pants. About the only obvious thing wrong with him was that he was about fifteen or twenty pounds overweight. A little paunch hung out over his belt, making his body seem to lean forward. "Come on in," he repeated when I hesitated. "I ain't going to hurt you-."
I smiled wordlessly at him and stepped into the apartment.
Again to my surprise, the apartment wasn't what I imagined. In the ride over in the cab, I had envisioned the apartment as dark and gloomy, filled with dirt and garbage, with drunks in the hallways and rats rummaging in garbage cans. My spirits lightened when I saw the cab turn down a quiet, tree-lined street of oneand two-family houses. It reminded me of my old neighborhood, and Tony Salerno seemed to remind me of the neighborhood butcher.
The apartment was clean and well lighted, with rugs on the floors and a welcome mat in front of the door. I expected to find lace doilies on the arms of the chairs and under ashtrays when he ushered me into the living room. I was only vaguely disappointed when they were not there.
"Did you have a nice trip over?" he asked. "Found the place right away?"
"Yes, thank you. The cab came directly here."
It was beginning to remind me of a social call rather than a sexual assignation. Perhaps I had misjudged him. Perhaps all he was, was a lonely, slightly overweight bachelor. He certainly didn't look like a lover.
"Jesf he said suddenly. "I'm sorry. Would you like a drink or something? I know it's early. Maybe a beer? Or coffee?"
"No, thank you," I said. I sat down on the sofa, quite properly, he sat across from me in one of the two armchairs in the living room.
We stared at each other in an awkward silence for a moment or two. I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me.
We both began to speak simultaneously. We laughed, then were silent again.
"What were you going to say?" I asked.
"I was just going to ask you what your name was," he said. "I forgot."
"Wendy. Wendy Allen."
Another silence.
I pushed myself. "Have you had much… success with your ad?"
"Pretty good. Mostly couples. I have a girlfriend who likes to swing. We usually team up together and visit with married couples."
That made him sound less like a butcher.
"Decided to free-lance on your own?" I asked.
"No," he explained. "I've always done this. It's a good way to get to meet people. Women."
He seemed to be warming. At least he could carry on a conversation. There seemed to be a great deal more to Tony Salerno than met the eye. Perhaps he was a lover after all.
"I bet you get a lot of crank calls."
"Hundreds. But you got to expect that when you place an ad about sex. Mostly guys calling up. Sick guys who like to talk dirty and jerk off. Get some kind of kick out of it, I guess."
I remembered the call Mark had made to that man. He had been masturbating, Mark said.
"Then you get the queers," Tony continued. "Once they see that you're well hung, they're worse than hot virgins after your cock. I had this one queer call me up, begging to suck my cock. He even offered to pay me. I had to threaten to smack him around if he kept on calling, he got to be such a pain. He'd even call when I had women here! He'd beg to suck me off while I was eating the woman, or he'd ask to rim me while I was fucking her. He was a crazy son of a bitch."
My mouth fell open. I hadn't expected his personality to broaden so suddenly! Had I been so imperceptive in judging him?
Then I noticed that Tony was smiling, and I realized the everything-the house, the way he dressed, the innocence he projected-was nothing but a subtle sham! A way of relaxing his guests and catching them off guard. That way he could overwhelm them with his sexuality-for his conversion from naivete to raw sophistication was so sudden and unexpected that it knocked the wind out of you. It was good, well-thought-out psychology.
I smiled back at Tony Salerno. "Do you get many women to call?" I asked.
"Enough. Mostly just curious women. Women who don't believe the ad is real. Then you get young girls who get all hot over talking dirty. And you get the horny women who masturbate while they are talking to you. You get a lot of that."
I felt myself blushing. His grin broadened.
"Yeah. Mostly housewives home alone. They get tired with kids and cleaning and husbands who don't pay any attention to them any more. They sit around and talk to women all day. They watch soap operas. Then in the afternoon they start to get hot, so they usually masturbate. They think about sex, but they're afraid of doing anything about it. So they masturbate and fantasize."