But then, of course, it wasn't happening to me. Wendy Allen was at home, in her house, watching her kids, making love to her husband.
And I wasn't Wendy Allen any longer…
About halfway down the next block, I got my first proposition. I had stopped in front of an all-night delicatessen, and I was looking in the window at the pictures of the Hollywood celebrities. I became aware of a man walking up to the window, standing right next to me. My mouth grew dry and my heart was pounding like crazy in my chest. My palms were wet, and I clenched my fists closed.
"Hello," he said.
I turned my eyes toward him. I tried to say something, but my throat constricted, and nothing came out.
"You waiting for someone?" he asked. He was a rather short guy, with dark eyes and short brown hair. Slight of build, with straight, even features. I judged he was about thirty-three or four.
"Depends," I said. My lips were trembling.
His face seemed torn with indecision. "You… uh… maybe want to… go out?"
I stared at him. Cool, I told myself. Be cool.
"Depends," I repeated. He must have thought I was either very hard, full of clipped terse attitudes, or thought I was semiliterate. That's how I felt, leastways.
"You know, you're kind of… attractive," he said. I didn't know who was having the worse time-he or I. "Thank you."
He smiled. "Maybe go for a drink or something?"
"If I go anywhere," I said, "it won't be for a drink!" Wow! Was that me talking? He smiled boldly now. "I got about twenty dollars.
Maybe we could have a good time."
I appraised him coldly. "Twenty-five."
He weighed the price. "You suck?" he asked. "For twenty-five, I want to get sucked, too."
"That depends." I had gotten into a rut with that word.
"Depends on what?"
"On how big your cock is."
He smiled broadly now. "Don't worry about that," he said. "I ain't had no complaints."
"Nice to hear." I looked down slowly at his crotch, letting him follow my line of vision. He had his hands thrust in his pockets, but he couldn't hide his hard-on. It was like a lump in the front of his pants.
"Looks like you're ready," I said, looking again at his face. He seemed to be salivating.
"You're all right," he said. "No hard shit with you."
I didn't know exactly what he meant, but considering his smile, I accepted the words as a compliment.
"I never seen you around here before," he said. "You new?"
"Sort of."
"You'll make out good. You're a good-looking piece. Classy."
My ego swelled, and the knocking of my knees calmed somewhat "Thanks."
"What's yer… name?"
I considered for a moment. "Carol," I said. "Carol Taylor."
Why not? At least for this weekend, Wendy Allen was dead.
"My name's Jack." He didn't offer a last name.
"Okay, Jack," I said. "My hotel's down the street. The Westmore. Room 1109-"
Jack held his finger up to his lips. "Carol," he said. He was whispering. "You're a sportin' girl."
"What do you mean?"
He nodded his head to a car behind us parked against the curb. There was a man sitting in the car. "My nephew."
I stared at the boy. Blond hair, worn long. Rather good looking. About twenty or so.
"He's getting married next week," Jack confided. "I told him I'd take him out, you know what I mean."
I wasn't sure.
"How about taking the both of us on… together?" he asked. "Be wild! Something for the boy to remember."
So this is what happened on bachelor parties. "Twenty-five for him, too," I said.
I stared at the boy. He gave me a quick, furtive glance, then turned away. "
"Of course," Jack agreed.
"No rough stuff," I warned. I didn't mind getting fucked, but I didn't want to get hurt.
"Of course not!" Jack said. "What do you think I am-a pervert!"
"Okay."
Jack smiled. "I'll follow you."
"No. Wait about five minutes, then come up. Room 1109."
Jack nodded. "Sure thing."
I walked away slowly, my head spinning. My legs felt like rubber.
Two! I kept on drinking. Two men!
My wildest fantasy was about to become a reality. I pushed open the glass doors of the Westmore. My hand was shaking.
Two!
Chapter 11
I had just managed to get back to my room and urinate and straighten the room slightly before I heard a light knock on the door.
"Carol?" I heard a voice whisper. "Carol?" I opened the door and peeked out It was Jack and his nephew.
"Come on in," I said. I opened the door only enough for them to slip in one at a time. Then I poked my head out into the hallway and made sure that no one had followed them. The hall was empty.
Jack was standing behind me when I closed the door. His nephew was standing silently next to him, and he looked self-conscious and ill at ease. He was staring at the bed.
My knees were trembling, and my heart was in my throat. I suddenly no longer felt in any way sexual. All I kept thinking was that I was crazy; that I had finally lost my mind.
What am I doing? I asked myself.
"Hi, boys!" I said out loud. The words came out so casually that they sounded sincere. I had surprised myself even.
"Hiya, Carol," Jack said.
"Hello," his nephew coughed.
"Come on in," I said. I led them into the bedroom living room. My knees were shaking as I moved. We all stood around, in front of the bed, feeling self-conscious and awkward. "Sit down," I told them.
Jack sat on the edge of the bed. and I walked over to the sofa, facing him. His nephew hesitated a moment, then walked over to the sofa and sat down. He scrunched himself up against the arm, pulling his body as far away from mine as he could. I felt contaminated.
"Well." Jack was smiling. He was the only one of us who apparently wasn't ill at ease.
"What's your name?" I said, directing the words to Jack's nephew. "I don't think we've been introduced."
"Alexander."
I waited for him to modify the word. "What do they call you? Alex or Al?"
"Alex, mostly."
"Good, Alex," I said. I smiled at him. I knew what he was going through.
"You'll have to excuse Alex," Jack said. "He's a little shy about this."
"If you'd rather do it separately…"
"No, no!" Jack insisted. "This is going to be something for him to remember all his life."
I had a growing feeling that that applied to me, too.
"Well," I said. My voice was heavy with finality. "Shall we begin?"
The boy's face paled.
"How about a drink first," Jack said. He drew a pint bottle from his coat. "To break the ice and get us in the mood."
I was thankful for the delay. My insides were trembling so badly that I was sure they would notice. But I was too afraid to admit I was scared. I didn't know how they would react. I could use a good, stiff drink.
"Good idea," I said. "I'll get some glasses from the bathroom."
"Don't bother. Well drink from the bottle." Jack lifted the bottle of clear liquid to his lips. He began to gulp it down. I tried to read the upside-down label to see whether it was Vodka or Gin. Whichever it was, it wouldn't matter much to me. I didn't drink, and I couldn't tell the difference if I did know. Whatever it was, I needed it badly.
"Sonofabitch!" Jack exclaimed. His eyes were red. "That was goo-oo-d!"
He held the bottle out to me, I reached across and grasped it. Without reading the label, I put the bottle to my lips and drank.
Fire ran down my throat. My tongue curled up in my mouth, and my eyes bulged out of their sockets. The liquid balked at my stomach, and I felt it try to rise up again. I forced it back down. A deep burning pain spread out through my stomach and made me lean forward to ease the unaccustomed sensation.