Chapter 5
Paul paced back and forth across the luxuriously thick rug. He stopped every now and then to gaze out of the window or to pick up a magazine. But it was no good. Nothing he did today seemed to be able to take his mind off Cindy.
Damn her! Damn that cunt! Damn her for turning on to that fat slob Jenkins!
Of course he didn't have to go through with it; he could have told Jenkins to go home. But no, he couldn't have, he couldn't have, not even as he listened to the sounds of their lovemaking through the door. He couldn't have because he wanted it to happen...it was exciting...but almost unbearable. He did the only thing he could do, he got drunk and waited, all the while wanting her more and more until he thought he would go crazy with desire.
After Jenkins left, there had been a moment when Paul didn't know what to do,...he reached a point where his mind stopped functioning. He didn't want to have to decide what to do.
But finally he had gone into the bedroom. As he stood over the bed, looking at the other man's sperm oozing out of her lovely behind, she was more exciting than at any other time...he wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman.
And that look in her eyes as soon as she saw who it was! That look which said, "It's you I really want, Paul...Jenkins didn't matter...he's gone...and I want you to fuck me!"
He had taken her then, plunging deep into both her holes; he had never felt such passion as last night; and afterwards, he felt completely drained and relaxed. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms almost immediately.
But now, in the cool light of early morning, with Cindy gone, he felt a sudden panic. He didn't want to see her again. He was, he admitted to himself, afraid to see her again now, afraid of how much he wanted her. Would he never stop wanting her?
But it wasn't just that he wanted her. She was doing something...to him. She was too willing, too able to give herself to him...in all ways. He felt she was trying to smother him with her willingness, Up to a certain point, this is what he wanted, for her to give herself and not hold anything back. But then, then something happened, something that had never happened with any other woman...then he felt obligated to give something back to her, something more than just the pleasure of sex. And he didn't want to, he didn't want any other feelings.
It wasn't that she said anything to make him feel this way. She hadn't even hinted that she wanted anything more permanent than an affair.
No, she never really said anything...but damn her! She didn't have to say it. It was always there, in the way she acted, in the way she gave herself.
Of course the most maddening part was that he still wanted her. It was a fact that his mind might try to deny-and he did try to deny it, tried to rationalize his position, tried to convince himself that he could keep control of the situation. But although his mind could deny it, his body couldn't. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape the feelings she caused to surge and swell through his body, the feelings, hot and aching, of wanting her soft flesh. And there was no end to it. Each time he plunged into her moist cunt or the narrower channel of her behind, each time seemed better than the last and each time pointed to the next. . . which would be better yet.
Jesus, how he wanted it! That warm wet cunt of hers. How he wanted to sink into her, to lose himself in her, to feel...what? To feel what? The question scared him. What more than the pleasure of her warm wet flesh enfolding his own? What more than that frantic, almost painful coiling of his body before the hot liquid spurting from him. What more?
No, there was nothing more, nothing that he wanted anyway.
But now he had to do something. He had to get control of his life again. He had to get away from Cindy before she completely smothered him, before she engulfed him, he had to get away now, while there was still some part of him left. And he had to get far away; he didn't trust himself to be so close to her, to be able to pick up the telephone and have her come over.
He stood in the middle of the room, deep in thought.
Yes, that was really the only thing to do...leave...drive across country. The drive would do him good; it would clear his mind and it would give him time to think. And with Cindy far behind, maybe it would be easier to think.
He poured himself a drink. Now that he had decided to leave, he felt calmer. Now that the pressure of indecision was gone, he could think more clearly.
He would need some money. Alex would have it, so that was no problem. He wanted to see Alex anyway; maybe if he talked to someone.. .
What else? Nothing really. Just get in the car and go, without thinking about it.
He hurriedly packed a few things and then quickly left the apartment. The sun was just showing over the tops of the trees; it would be a nice day.
He climbed into the low slung sports car and turned the ignition; the car roared and crackled to life. He jammed it into first and tore away from the curb, tires screeching against the pavement, leaving a thin cloud of smoke and a smell of burned rubber behind. The car answered his every command. He drove it hard and fast, almost ruthlessly, but for all the punishment he gave it, it never failed him. He felt better now, as he always did, having this sleek machine throbbing beneath him.
He pulled into the parking lot and hurried into the building. Alex had a nice place. Expensive. But then Alex was a good businessman. His business was women; he ran two houses that Paul knew of. One of them was very high class, but phony, Paul thought. You didn't go to a whorehouse to sit in two-hundred-dollar chairs and listen to classical music. But, he had to admit it, Alex had fine taste in women. He'd been around the world several times to pick the women he wanted to work for him; and it certainly had paid off.
Paul knocked on the gleaming mahogany door leading into Alex's apartment. Alex yelled for him to come in.
"Paul! Been a long time." Alex looked up from a huge pile of papers on his desk.
"Come in and have a seat," he continued. He removed his horned-rimmed glasses to reveal piercing coal-black eyes; he watched Paul intently as he entered the room and took a seat near the desk.
Paul began to feel uncomfortable almost immediately. He wanted just to ask Alex for some money and then leave. It wouldn't do any good talking to him...about Cindy...it wouldn't do any good to talk to anyone about it. He took a deep breath. It would be better if he came right to the point with Alex.
"Alex, I want to borrow a couple of hundred." He could always ask for more if he needed it later; Alex was free with his money.
"O.K., that's no problem," Alex answered quietly. He reached into his desk drawer and brought out his checkbook. "By the way, I was going to call you later this week to invite you to a party. Interested?"
Any other time and he would have been interested. Alex's parties were lavish; and Paul had met some beautiful women there. But he wasn't in the mood now, not even to listen. All he wanted was for Alex to finish the check so he could be on his way. He didn't answer, but Alex went on anyway.
"It's going to be a good one," he said, winking at Paul and glancing over to the sofa in the far corner of the room.
There, stretched out on a pile of dark red pillows, lay one of the most beautiful women Paul had ever seen. She was Eurasian, he thought. She wore a saffron colored kimono, half of which fell away as she moved languidly on the pillows. There was nothing underneath. With incredibly large liquid brown eyes she followed Paul's every movement. But as he looked at her, he noticed that the expression on her face never changed, not even as he gazed openly at the half of her which was no longer covered by the kimono. She had a sleepy look, almost as if she was drugged.
"She's nice, isn't she?" Alex laughed. "Her father was French and her mother Chinese. I found her wandering in the streets in Hong Kong, half dead with hunger. Hadn't had anything to eat in days. She probably would have starved if I hadn't brought her back. Isn't that right, beautiful?"
She turned her gaze towards Alex, but still the expression on her face did not change. She glanced back at Paul, then slowly turned over onto her stomach, thus hiding the lovely charms of her lithe brown body. But her head, as it rested on one of the pillows, continued to face Paul's direction.
"Her name is Lisa," Alex continued. "She speaks English...when she wants to. Anyhow, she'll be there at the party. And lots more, the best I have. So come if you want." He handed Paul the check.
Alex got up and walked over to the bar, where he poured them each a drink. Paul watched Alex for a moment, but then his eyes turned towards Lisa. Still she hadn't moved. He imagined that her soft brown skin would be fragrant with some subtle perfume.
"By the way," Alex said as he walked back with the drinks. "Did you know that Al broke out of the asylum?"
Al. The mention of his name jolted Paul and he forgot about Lisa. Suddenly the memory of that whole affair rushed back into his mind. Margo...he hadn't thought of her in over a year. He sighed. He wondered if Al still blamed him for his sister's death.
Margo...that horrible night.
He hadn't wanted to go back to the apartment. He knew there would be a scene. Always there was a scene. They both knew it was over...it had been finished between them for a long time...but still he knew there would be a scene; she wanted it that way.
As soon as he walked in the door and looked at her face he knew it would be bad. Right at that moment he regretted he had ever met Margo.
There was hate on her face and she did little to try to hide it.
"Why not just tell me to get out, Paul? Tell me to fuck off or something. Isn't that your style?" She looked ugly, her mouth twisted into a sneer.
He turned away from her, but she came across the room and stood close to him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but she took it away when he didn't respond.
"All right, Paul," she said, her voice flat, cold...like death. But there was something else, too, a hint of mockery. He turned and faced her.
"So you got what you wanted, didn't you?" she said with a thin smile. "All you ever wanted was my body...and now you're tired of me...and you expect me just to leave. That's it, isn't it?"
He didn't want to answer; there was really nothing to say. But he knew she wouldn't leave until he did.
"Yes, I want you to leave," he said calmly. "It's over and the dramatics won't help anything."
Margo said nothing. She took a last look at him and then left. She was too calm; he knew something was really wrong, but there was nothing he could do.
Then death! Margo had died two hours later, taken her own life. The whole thing was like a bad dream. And the worst part had been her note, written just before she had jumped to her death...she was doing it because of him! Because he had used her! It was all absurd, but it had shaken him. She had to be crazy to do something like that...but maybe there was some truth in what she said. He didn't want to think about it.
But here it was...back again...as if it had just happened yesterday.
And now Al was out; and maybe looking for him. Al had blamed Paul for his sister's death...he had threatened to get even, had threatened his life. But before he had a chance to carry out his threat, he was picked up on a morals charge and committed to an institution for the criminally insane. And now he had broken out.
Paul looked at Alex, his friend obviously was waiting for some reaction to the news of Al's escape. But Paul looked away. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget about it...but he couldn't.
Alex sensed Paul's mood. He put his drink down and started towards the door.
"Be back in a couple of hours. I have some business to take care of," Alex said. "Stay if you want...everything here is yours."
Paul didn't understand for a minute. Yes of course...Lisa. Alex was giving him Lisa; Alex was free with his women too.
As he watched Alex leave, his thoughts returned to the trim Eurasion girl lying on the couch. She was very desirable and he wanted her perfumed flesh...but there was something wrong.
Her liquid eyes were still fixed on him. She turned on her side and the kimono once again fell away.
This is more like it, he thought as he walked across the room to where the girl was lying. Now he was the master, and the woman...the woman was there to give pleasure. Lisa knew it and she wanted it that way. Now he felt the old familiar surge of energy rushing' through his limbs. He felt strong and confident. They understood each other, he and Lisa; they didn't need words.
But suddenly he stopped...because it wasn't Lisa lying there on the couch, waiting for him...it was Margo, and her face was distorted with hate, like it had been that night, her mouth moving in silent curses. But as he watched in horror, Margo gave way to Cindy, Cindy who was smiling and holding out her arms to him.
"Oh God!" he groaned. He felt icy cold. He closed his eyes and there was Cindy...dead...like Margo. Oh Jesus, was the same thing going to happen? Would Cindy end up by killing herself? Would she accuse him as Margo had done?
And now Al would be looking for him.
Paul was suddenly afraid and he wanted to run. He didn't know, really, why he was so afraid. Maybe it was because of Al...maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to Cindy that happened to Margo. He didn't know. The only thing certain was that he had to flee.