Chapter 7
Marilyn carried the tray of steaming dishes in from the kitchen as Lou was finishing mixing the martinis.
"Sure I can't help?" He asked.
She set the tray on the round table near the window. "I don't permit guests to help with kitchen chores," she said with a smile.
He reached across the table and planted a big kiss on her forehead. "I'm glad you're back," he said pleasantly.
She squeezed his hand across the table. "I'm glad you missed me." she said sweetly.
He smiled. "After dinner I'll show you how much."
The setting was fresh and frilly with new tablecloth and bright flowers and tall blue candles. They ate silently, smiling often at each other. When she started to speak he waved her to silence and rolled his eyes to the music of the record player. The candles flickered in the faint breeze coming in through the window and he thought she had never been as lovely as now. When she served the coffee they spoke about the articles she had written. Here Lou felt clean and wholesome. He was with Marilyn again and that was all that mattered. Tina was now a horizon of faded echoes. She looked at him directly when he led her toward the bedroom.
She stretched out on the bed ... long and loose ... her arms reaching toward him. He kissed her fervently and felt a carnal response. She ran her fingers around his ears. Then she sat up and unzipped her dress. "It's new-I don't want it wrinkled," she said pleasantly. She reached across the bed and laid it on the chair. Lou swallowed and remembered undressing Tina. When he went into her arms and her tongue probed his he felt the feel of Tina's tongue and Tina's arms squeezing his neck. A faint rasp of irritation overcame him and he tried to push the dark-eyed, mysterious girl from his mind ... her crazy life and floppy fashions and wild habits.
"Is something wrong?" Marily asked suddenly.
"Not at all doll, everything is fine," he said.
How could he think of a girl of Tina's type when he had something like Marilyn wrapped up and ready to go for him any time he wanted her?
He took her bra off and buried his face in her breasts as he felt her hand disrobing him. He heard her moan as she moved beneath him. He stopped for a second and stared at the girl beneath him and suddenly everything was negative. She might have been a cigarette machine flashing lights for all he suddenly cared. There was a sense of imbalance-a strange tension as he tried to push the image of Tina out of his mind.
Finally he went between her thighs. It was no use, he told himself as he worked with her. He needed Tina-Tina's prod to sharpen his impulses. Somehow Marilyn was not as exciting as she used to be. He performed the act mechanically, hoping his technique would hide from Marilyn how little he really cared.
Later, as she slept, he crept quietly from the bed. He walked into the living room and lit a cigarette. At the window he stared down into the dark streets and wondered what Tina was doing. He took a deep drag. What was happening to him? If he had to fake interest in making love to a stunning girl like Marilyn, something deep and sinister was wrong in his life. He couldn't deny it. He was in bad shape.
He sat down in the leather chair and dreamed he was in a gorgeous suite at an uptown hotel and Tina attired in long earrings and gown, strumming a guitar. She seemed to have arisen from out of a deep sea with pale face and heavy burning eyes. When she stopped playing she sat down beside him and kissed his nose, fingers, eyes. He embraced her passionately and he loved her and he was happy and willing to die for her. Then the dream moved and they walked arm in arm over an old railroad bridge and watched the smoke curl up from the puffing engines. Then everything began to crumble and the warm body near him was gone.
He sat up with a start-feverish-his throat like cotton. "Tina," he muttered aloud. "Tina, where are you?"
He had a hot headache and he grunted to himself. He stood up and lit another cigarette. He went back into the bedroom. He stared at Marilyn's nude body. How lovely she was! He lay down beside her. He stared at her breasts, and when they became Tina's he did not rebuke himself but applied himself vigorously to the task of kissing them. He didn't know if it was a cunning piece of revenge or not. He didn't care. Tina's image dangled relentlessly before his eyes.
Marilyn stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled and opened her arms. He bent down and kissed her. He rubbed her joyfully and she responded anew reaching for his erect connection. She was full of sap and he went to her in his fluid dream faithful to her in one flashing moment as a Christian is to his God. To himself he knew he was merely creating with Marilyn what he wanted to do with Tina.
He turned his face away when he was finished.