Chapter 6
The ringing of the telephone became the ringing of the doorbell, waking him from a light doze on the couch. He scratched an itch in the stubble beneath his chin and his eyes squinted open. The doorbell kept ringing insistently, echoing through his head. He sat up out of the patch of morning sunlight and got to his feet. He had fallen asleep dressed. He looked down to see the bags and creases in his trousers as he wandered, still not awake, to open the door. Cee-Zee, anybody would be better than the blasted ringing that stabbed through his temples.
He groped for the door knob and turned it. "You? What the deuce are you doing here?" This was just what he didn't need, Hilda in the middle of everything.
She stood on the threshold, her startled eyes examining him mutely as he turned and walked away from her back to the couch. "I've been trying to call you since yesterday. Your line has been busy for twenty four hours. I tried to get the operator to help me. I began to worry. And now I see that I was right. What's happened to you, Eric? Look at yourself."
She stood over him, her gloved hands clutching her purse, her voice concerned, yet harsh with judgment.
"The telephone was as good an excuse as any, eh, Hilda?" He spoke without opening his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're bugging me, girl. Why don't you just go away." He didn't have the strength to be kind or tactful. The mistake of going to her place was beginning to snowball. But if she thought she could get hooks into him again because they'd spent a few hours together, she was damn well mistaken.
She lay her purse on the table and began to pull her gloves off slowly, one finger at a time. "You know I won't take that kind of talk from anybody. Be civil at least, Eric. I didn't come with a shotgun."
"Why not? I could use a shotgun or a shot or something. As long as you're here, why don't you make yourself useful? The whiskey's in the cabinet over the sink."
He heard her breath draw in. If she were smart, she'd realize there was nothing he could give her except a hard time. She might realize it all right, but she wouldn't admit it. Not to herself or to him. He felt sad for her and sadder for himself because of the bastard he became in her presence, automatically.
"Well, go on already," he said, wishing there was a quicker way of death for Hilda then this slow bleeding.
She didn't answer him but he heard her footsteps moving and the click of the cabinet doors. A slave, a pretty little Oriental slave. He never could understand why she needed this. Yet maybe it was true that some women worked that way. Love and all that crap, or maybe the first man who took their virginity became a god. The thought tasted rotten.
Hilda came back with a glass one third full of Scotch. He sat up and rubbed his calves, then took the glass. "Thanks."
"If I didn't feel so sorry for you...."
"Can it." He took a swallow and put the glass down on the rug. "Feel sorry for me, my. foot. You came here looking for a lay. You must've been damn glad the telephone gave you the excuse. Stop blinking those shocked eyes at me. There's too much going on as it is and I don't need more aggravation from you."
He saw that her hands were trembling. She walked around to the back of an empty chair and leaned against it. Her glance could not meet his.
"I don't know what to say to you," she choked.
"Then it's simple. Don't say anything." He took up the glass again and finished its contents.
"You're the cruelest person I've ever known." Her mouth pursed hard, fighting not to give way to tears.
"Meat balls." He had to keep hitting and hitting at her. He pulled open the bow tie and dragged it out from the collar. Then he took off his jacket and tossed it on the chair against which she was leaning.
"How frightening you seem," she went on. "Like an animal. Those red eyelids, those rumpled clothes. I don't know how you five like this, Eric, after what you've become accustomed to."
He continued unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it carelessly on the floor. "Did I ask you for a gold star? If you came by to see if I was all right, you see it. Now why don't you be a good little girl and scram? I've got lots to do today."
She came around to pick up his shirt to put it beside his jacket. "I'm not sure that I do see you are all right. If anything, I'd say that you're all wrong. Do you want to talk about it, dear? I know how it is when you have fits of temper like this. And perhaps I shouldn't blame you."
He moved his hand into the opening of her dress and squeezed the cup of her brassiere. "You want talk?" he said. "You want to hear my troubles, is that it?"
With a weak gesture, she pretended to try to move his hand away. He held on tight, undoing the snaps of her blouse with the other hand.
"You're not very convincing," he said.
"Oh, Eric." She fell against him, the sobs coming warm onto his chest. "You don't know the torture. You I just don't know." Hot tears trembled down his chest. "I've tried so hard. Did you think I wanted to come to you? I This way, like a beggar. What do you think it does to a I woman's pride when she can't stay away from someone? ! I wasn't brought up to understand this. And I don't know how to cope with it now. Darling, I'm pleading with you. Please have mercy. Sometimes I think I'm going out of my mind. The awful dreams. My mind is a wild thing. Ever since you left me ... the dizziness ... the needing you. What can I say? And that Friday night. I should have ignored you. But I couldn't. I couldn't let you get away without touching you. Please. Be kind. I won't bother you too often. I promise that. Just once in a while, let me hold you, kiss you. I'll be anything for you. Do anything. Only you mustn't throw me away."
She clung to him fiercely, her ribs panting fast, strands of hair smeared in perspiration across her forehead, the odor of her perfume mingling with the faint tinge of desire that rose from her body with a fragrance of its own. As he remained silent, she lifted her face after awhile, a trying to smile blearily through her make-up. "It's your fault, after all," she said. "You taught me how."
There was no answer for her. Gently he disengaged her hands from behind him. What would it cost, in the long run, if he took care of Hilda's desire every so often? He knew her well enough not to give in right away. She could get to be a problem if he let her believe she could sway him. Her demands would not stop after bed. Pretty soon, she'd be asking him to escort her to parties, involving him again in the whirl of social life he hated. "Please, say you won't turn me away." Her dress had slopped down off her shoulders. A sliver of brassiere strap glistened in the sunlight. "I know what you're thinking," she added hurriedly. "And I promise not to become a nuisance. Really. I swear on my life that I won't ask more than a few hours from you. After all," she said bitterly, "a woman knows when the man she loves doesn't love her in return."
"As long as that's clear," he said.
"Yes." She put the tips of her fingers on his lips. "I would turn the world inside out if I thought it could change you. But I know better."
He sat down onto the couch bringing her with him on his lap. Her hot mouth opened his lips. The flat width of her tongue reached in greedily. She turned in his arms and hoisted her skirt, straddling his lap. Her garters glinted on the hem of her stockings. Her belly began undulating against him. Despite himself, arrows of response began shooting through him. The energies of last night, energies meant for Cee-Zee, converged in his loins. Her small school teacher's hands reached beneath his belt, massaging him. She edged herself forward, her spread legs stretching her thin girdle wide. Deftly she unhooked the garters. The girdle rolled up over her hips.
"Darling, hurry," she moaned, forgetting the mask of prudishness, all of her concentrating on one thing as she humped herself against him.
He didn't have to do anything but let her unzip him. She drew in her breath, her mouth placid, her tongue lolling out. Her eyes became dull with a familiar glaze.
He surrendered to the wet caressing touch of her lips. All his muscles tightened and the throbbing in his head became a complete throbbing of his body.
She sat up and shimmied her hips down, groaning with the contact. He felt her expand as they moved in rhythm.
"So good," she murmured, not realizing that she was speaking.
She leaned her forehead against the back of the couch, all of her moving violently, insistently. Now and then she shuddered in a series of convulsions that clutched her whole body but she did not stop the pounding of her hips against him. Beads of sweat ran down her arms, staining the material of her dress. And still she pivoted on him, all of her wracked with tortured seeking of completion.
He felt himself burst and he gripped her down to him, his fingers digging into her shoulders. Her answering response made all of her vibrate in a final ecstasy.
She fell away from him, her wet face relaxed. Limply she lay with her eyes closed, ignoring the rumpled skirt and girdle tangled about her waist.
Now she didn't need words, she didn't need to plead with him. He stood up and went to wash his face, thinking how in these times afterward, she must hate him.
When he returned from the bathroom, she still hadn't moved. But now she opened her eyes, smiling weakly, the lip stick a pink smudge across her upper lip. "There can't be anyone else quite so wonderful," she said.
He looked at her curving belly, the pale fuzz on it moving with the rhythm of her breathing. He wished she would fix her clothes but he didn't find it necessary to comment. Let her enjoy the few moments for what they were worth to her.
Going into the bathroom, he changed his rumpled trousers, pulling on a pair of old army fatigues. If he were lucky, she'd go away soon and he could spend a nice quiet time alone for a change.
He had just pulled a polo shirt over his head when he heard a key in the lock. He ran to intercept Cee-Zee before she got to the living room.
Catching her at the door, he started to yank her with him back into the hall. But the slow light in her eyes told him it was too late. Still, he didn't want Hilda to have to face this. The humiliation would be too much. He got Cee-Zee by her biceps and forced her outside, slamming the door shut between themselves and Hilda.
She had changed into a green linen dress and all of her was put together with the loving care of a sleek, custom made automobile. He held her against the wall until he was sure she wouldn't try to get back inside the apartment. Standing this close to her, he could see beneath the make-up to the bluish circles under her eyes. Obviously she was not as well cared for and rested as she wanted to appear. This gratified him with a razor's edge of satisfaction.
"Now let's have the key," he said. "You're through with this place. Go on home to Lilio. Give him your snow jobs."
"First get those sweaty hands off me. And second, here's five dollars. Go buy yourself a sense of humor."
He looked at her hard and saw that she wasn't angry nor was she rebellious. A hint of disappointment shimmered in her eyes. His satisfaction fizzled.
"Anyway," she continued, "I came over to let you know what's happening and to thank you. By being your naturally ugly self, you did me a big favor. Lilio got me a place, since obviously I can't stay with you anymore. All the trimmings go with it. He's going to support me in the style to which he thinks I am accustomed." She sighed with amusement. "As for you, King Kong, Lilio's got his chubby little fighting feathers prickled. I'll do my best to take his mind off you. But have a care. One never knows when I may have to submit to your hospitality again and I don't like to share digs with the rigor mortis type. Too smelly."
She spoke with an honest concern for him. All his anger for Cee-Zee spilled over. In its stead, he felt a wave of admiration for her sportsmanship. Any other woman would be on her high horse or reduced to teats. Try to get even with him in some way. But Cee-Zee took it all without hard feelings. He might not agree with the way she lived, but there was no doubting the fact that he liked her despite everything.
She dropped the key into his hand. "I didn't mean to barge in on you. Go back to your friend." She turned and went down the hallway to the stairs.
As she started down them, Hilda came out. She had fixed her clothes and her make-up. But her eyes were wild with the attempt to keep her humiliation in control.
Mercifully Cee-Zee didn't look up but continued down the stairwell.
He pushed Hilda back inside.
She wanted to say something but her lips could not form the words.
"You don't have to worry," Eric said. "Nobody's going to tell on you." If it had been Cee-Zee caught on the couch instead of Hilda, she would have laughed and invited the intruder in.
Hilda's face was a deadly pallor.
"Oh, come on, relax. You're not the Queen of Sheba."
"I'm not ... anybody," she said in a thin voice. "Just a tramp off the streets."
"Can't you quit the melodrama? Nobody's accusing you of anything." He put the key on a table, almost sorry now that Cee-Zee had given it back to him.
"Who is she?" Hilda looked at him furtively. She took a cigarette and put it between her lips.
"A friend. Just an old friend," he answered tiredly. "Don't ask me to explain. You'd never understand it."
She waited for Eric to strike a match for her. He went to the window and pulled the shades up instead. Anything he might tell her about Cee-Zee would sound like lies.
"Any woman who has a key to a man's apartment is surely a friend." Her voice was hardly above a whisper. "I know I have no claims on you, Eric, darling...."
"Then let it go at that." He spat the words out angrily. He wished it were Cee-Zee crawling to him like this instead of Hilda.
"I only hope I didn't spoil anything. Between you and , that woman, I mean. Maybe she didn't expect you to be ... busy this morning. Maybe my presence here will upset her. Women are jealous cats, you know."
He laughed in her face and Hilda looked at him, her mouth dry, her eyes large with bewilderment.
"That bitch jealous?" A taste of bitterness filled him.
For a moment Hilda remained silent, watching his reaction with an eagle alertness. She got her own match and struck it. Then she sat down and crossed her legs, tugging her skirt carefully over her knees. "You're rather impressed with her, aren't you, dear," she said quietly.
"The hell I am!" He was looking down into the backyard, watching some children on their tricycles.
"I never saw any one woman enrage you like that."
"We don't have to talk about it." He didn't mean to have Hilda dissecting his affairs. He certainly would not have her throwing fits of jealousy. Not because of Cee-Zee, of all people. The whole thing was too stupid. He felt helpless and irritable. He wished he could dig up a card game where the stakes were so high that he could win himself a year's freedom from all those suly female capers running in circles around him. He remembered Millardson's story about Robin hopping off to Cuba. That was one advantage to being a rich bitch. He wondered if Robin had anything to run away from. If she did, she kept it well hidden.
Thoughts of freedom and thoughts of summer intermingled with the grim reminder that he would have only a two week vacation. The chains of his every day job felt suddenly heavy. He couldn't see himself putting on a shirt and jacket and tie in the muggy heat. There was something foolish and inhuman about it.
"You're very quiet," Hilda said.
He had forgotten her presence momentarily. "I was thinking about July and August," he sighed. "And that reminds me, I have some work to prepare for tomorrow. I could use a little privacy, if you don't mind."
"How dare I mind?" She smiled sadly. "You never told me about your job though. Do you enjoy it?"
She was stalling for time. He wanted to tell her that this was no way to make him feel closer to her. He got her purse and gloves and handed them over.
"So so," he said. He lifted her up off the couch and walked her to the door.
"You'll phone me so I won't have to worry about busy signals?"
"Sure."
She tilted her face for a goodbye kiss. He pecked her on the forehead and got her out the door, shutting it fast before she thought of some new excuse to come back inside.
Alone now, he could let himself think about Cee-Zee without having to watch his expression for Hilda's sake. Impressed with her? Hilda should only know how very much impressed with her he really was. It was a strange kind of feeling utterly alien to him. She was something elusive, almost mysterious in her own vague way. Too rotten for any man, yet certainly too good for Lilio. He could imagine her throwing his money around for toys. She wasn't the kind to save any for hard times. Squander a fortune in a month. Then starve for half a year. For all her plotting to keep safe access to Lilio's bank account, she wouldn't have the consistency or the self control not to get rid of him as soon as he jangled her nerves. He expected that, pretty soon, she would be coining round again for his key. Just a matter of waiting it out.