"Have you got a disease?"
"For God's sake!" he said, and` he sat up, too. "Do you think I'dgo to bedwith you if I knew I had the syph or the clap? What kind of aquestion--whatkind of a person do you think I am?"
"I'm sorry," she said. "My God! What's wrong? What did I do?"
"Nothing. Nothing under most circumstances. But I felt as if mycock was frozen when you...Never mind. Let me explain why I couldn't let yougo down onme."
"I wish you wouldn't use words like that!" "OK, my thing, then! Let me tell you." She listened with wide eyes. She was leaning on one arm near him.
He could see the swollen nipple, which did not seem to dwindle a bit as shelistened. It might have increased. Certainly, her eyes were bright, and, despiteher expressed horror, she smiled now and then.
"I really think you'd like to do that to me!" he said.
"You're always saying something stupid like that," she said. "Even now. Do you hate me so much you can't even get a hard-on."
"You mean erection, don't you?" he said. "If you can't understandwhy mypenis wanted to crawl into my belly for safety, then you can'tunderstand anything about men."
"I won't bite," she said, and she grabbed his penis and lungedfor it with her mouth wide open and smiling to show all her teeth.
He jerked himself away, saying, "Don't!"
"Forget about it, I was just kidding you," she said, and shecrawled onto him and began kissing him. She thrust her tongue along his tongue anddown his throat so far that he choked. "For God's sake!" he said, turning hishead away. "What the hell are you trying to do? I can't breathe!"
She sat up and almost hissed at him. "You can't breathe! How doyou think Ibreathe when you're shoving that big thing down my throat?. What isthe matter?"
"I don't know," he said. He sat up. "Let's have a few more drags. Maybethings'll straighten out."
"Do you have to depend upon that to be able to love me?" He tried to take her hand in his but she snatched it away. "You didn't see it," he said. "Those iron teeth. The blood!
Spitting outthat bloody flesh! God!"
"I feel sorry for Colben," she said, "but I don't see what he hasto do with us. You never liked him; you were going to get rid of him. And hegave me thecreeps. Anyway...oh, I don't know."
She rolled off the bed, went to the closet, and put on thekimono. She lit a cigarette and at once began coughing. It sounded as if her lungs werefull of snot.
He felt angry, and opened his mouth to say something--what, he did not know, just so it was something that would hurt. But the taste of cunt madehim pause. She had a beautiful cunt, the hair was thick and almost blue-blackand so soft it felt almost like a seal pelt. She lubricated freely, perhaps toomuch, butthe oil was sweet and clean. And she could squeeze down on his cockas if she had a hand inside it. And then he remembered the thing bulging outthe pad overthe woman's cunt in the film; and the blood that had been pouringinto his penisbecame slushy and slowly thawed out and drained back into his body.
Sybil, who had seen the dawning erection, said, "What's wrong
now?" "Sybil, there's nothing wrong with you. It's me. I'm too upset." She sucked in some more smoke and managed to check a cough. "You always did bring your work home. No wonder our life became
such a hell."
He knew that that was not true. They had rubbed each other rawfor other reasons, the causes of most of which they did not understand. Therewas, however, no use arguing. He had had enough of that.
He sat up and swung his legs over the bed and stood up and walkedto the chair on which he had piled his clothes.
"What are you doing?"
"Some of the smog gotten in your brain?" he said. "It's obviousI'm going todress, and it's fairly predictable that I'm getting out of here."
He checked the impulse to say, "Forever!" It sounded so childish. But it could be true.
She said nothing. She swayed back and forth with her eyes closedfor a minute, then, after opening them, spun around and walked into theliving room. Aminute later, he followed her. She was on the divan and glaring athim.
"I haven't had such a ball ache since I was a teenager and camehome from myfirst necking party," he said. He did not know why he said it; certainly, he didnot expect her to feel sorry for him, and to do something about it. Or did he?
"Necking party? You're sure dating yourself, old man!" She looked furious. Unfortunately, fury did not make herbeautiful. Yet, he hated to leave; he had a vague feeling that he wassomehow at fault.
He took one step toward her and stopped. He was going to kissher, but itwas force of habit that pushed him.
"Good-by," he said. "I really am sorry, in a way."
"In a way!" she screamed. "Now isn't that just like you! Youcan't be all sorry or all righteously indignant or all right or all wrong! Youhave to be half-sorry. You...you...half-assed half-man!"
"And so we leave exotic Sybil-land," he said, as he swung thedoor open. "It sinks slowly into the smog of fantastic Southern California, and we say aloha, farewell, adieu, and kiss my ass!"
Sybil sprang out of the chair with a scream and came at him withfingershooked to catch his face with her nails. He caught them and shovedher back so that she staggered against the sofa. She caught herself and thenyelled, "Youasshole! I hate you! I had a choice to make! I let you come here, instead of Al! I wanted you, not him! He was strictly second-choice, and a badsecond at that! You think you're hard up, you don't know what hard up is! I've turneddown lots of men because I kept hoping every night you'd call me! I'd eat youup; you'd bedays getting out of here. I'd love you, oh, how I'd love you! And nowthis, youstinking bastard! Well, I'm going to call Al, and he's going to geteverything Iwas going to give you and more! More! More! Do you understand that, you?"
He understood that he could still feel jealous. He felt likepunching herand then waiting for Al and kicking him downstairs.
But it would be no good trying to make up with her. Not now. Actually, notever, but he wasn't quite ready to believe this. Not down there wherecertaintydwelt.
Trying to grasp what ruined their love was like trying to closeyour fingerson a handful of smog.
He strode through the door and, knowing that she expected him toslam it behind him, did not.
Perhaps it was this that drove her to the last barbarism:
She stepped into the hall and shouted, "I'll suck his cock! I'llsuck his cock, you!"
He turned and shouted, "You're no lady!" and spun around andwalked off.
Outside, in the biting veils of gray-green, he laughed until hecoughedraspingly, and then he cried. Part of the tears was engendered by thesmog, partby his grief and rage. It was sad and heart-rending and disgustingand comical. One-upmanship was all right, but the one-upman actually upped it uphis own one.
"When the hell is she going to grow up?" he groaned, and then, "When the hell am I? When will the Childe become father to the man?"
Dante was thirty-five, midway in his life's journey, when he wentastrayfrom the straight road and woke to find himself alone in a dark wood.
But he obtained a professional guide, and he had at least oncebeen on the straight road, the True Way.
Childe did not remember having been on the straight road. Andwhere was his Virgil? The son of a bitch must be striking for higher pay andshorter hours.