Chapter 12
I left Lila's apartment before 10 p.m. Driving back toward my apartment, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't want to go home that early. Also, I didn't want to go over to Myra's apartment and listen to her cry about being pregnant. I had just about had enough of my sexy black beauty anyway, and her carelessness in getting pregnant was the last straw. She must have skipped taking "the pill" and didn't tell me. What a stupid trick.
An inviting-looking cocktail lounge suddenly appeared on the right side of the road. There were only a few cars parked outside and it looked like the quiet, friendly sort of place where I might have a few drinks and relax. As I pulled into the ample gravel parking lot, I noticed that the name of the bar was simply "Harry's Place." I smiled at the unassuming title and got out of the wagon.
Inside, "Harry's Place" was even more inviting than it appeared from the outside. It was dark and cool as I'd expected, but it was furnished like a big, comfortable living room. There were big, overstuffed chairs and couches spread in intimate arrangements throughout the large room. Cool jazz oozed softly from a massive stereo outfit in one corner and about four or five good looking cocktail waitresses dressed in mini-skirts and form clinging tops moved gracefully about the room waiting on the few customers. I was surprised that "Harry's Place" wasn't more popular. But then I remembered that it was still early in the evening. A small bandstand was set up at the far end of the room, but apparently the live entertainment didn't start until a later hour.
In addition to the couches and chairs, there was a small bar against the left wall. It was just a little bigger than the kind of bars you find in suburban game rooms. There were five or six stools standing before the polished bartop, so I picked the one at the far end-where I would have a good view of the entire room-and saddled up.
I ordered a very dry martini from the smiling bartender and lit a cigarette. The drink was good and I finished it in a hurry. The warmth of the gin was spreading through me while the bartender built me another one.
The combination of the gentle music and the not-so-gentle booze combined to relax me as I hadn't been relaxed in weeks. It was good to just sit there all alone and think.
The first thing I thought about was that I was finally all alone. Donna, who had been off the booze for about a week, had left the apartment and moved back in with her parents. Our hatred for each other had reached a point of near perfection by the time she finally walked out. I was glad to be rid of her. So glad, in fact, that I had agreed to pay for the divorce in lieu of any other kind of financial settlement or alimony.
I knew I'd have to face up to ending my affair with Myra sooner or later-and probably sooner. I had planned to hand her a line about there being too much talk around the office about our relationship after working hours. I was going to suggest to her that it would be best if we worked for different companies rather than risk possible scandal as well as the loss of our jobs. With my influence as purchasing agent, I could have easily swung another position for her with one of our suppliers.
Now that I knew for sure that she was pregnant, though, that plan was no good. From the way she'd blown up at that old battle-ax, Mrs., Hughes, I knew that she was in a frantic, frightened state and would come completely unstrung if I suggested that we split up. I just couldn't take a chance on Myra because I knew how highly, emotional she was. She might jump off a bridge or she might go screaming to the top execs at Space Age Metals. If she realized I was trying to dump her, she would probably try to ruin me by revealing how I dumped Jim Liggett.
My next move with Myra, I figured had to be convincing her to get rid of the baby. Once she wasn't pregnant any longer, I could safely begin easing her out of my life without complications. I was sure her friend the funny doctor could either perform the abortion or recommend where to have it done. It would no doubt cost me a few hundred bucks, but it would be worth it to help me get rid of Myra once and for all. Beautiful and passionate as she was, I'd reached the point where going to bed with Myra was more of a chore than pleasure.
Free from Myra, I could pursue Eileen Walters more ardently. I had to tell Eileen about Donna in the next few days before she read about our divorce proceedings in the newspaper. I figured I could bullshit her with a big story about why I didn't tell her I was married right at first. I'd make it sound like I was so stunned by her that I didn't want to take a chance on not getting to know her better. If she knew I was married, I'd tell her, she might never have given our relationship a chance to develop.
I was really in love with Eileen by that time. I still hadn't enjoyed her in bed, but I knew it was only a matter of time until she weakened and let me have my way. I smiled as the thought of Eileen's sex-mad sister, Bess, flashed through my mind. Now there was a willing woman! She was still a young girl according to the calendar, but Bess had the body and physical hungers of a woman. I had screwed her twice since our first night together in the motel. Once in my apartment and once on the back porch of the Walters house while I was waiting for Eileen to return from a shopping trip. We had done it standing up, right next to the open kitchen window. Momma had been doing the dishes and we talked to her as we made love so she wouldn't suspect there was any hanky-panky going on right under her nose. That Bess was something else.
Just as I had no intention of marrying Eileen, I had no intention of stopping my games with her younger sister. I wanted everything the Walters family had to offer-the wild, wanton sex play from Bess, the tender love and physical enjoyment with Eileen and the o h-s o-motherly "root-beer-and-potato-chips" attention from Momma.
When I thought of Bess, the image of the woman I had just left came into my head, also. Bess and Lila were two of a kind. They were both pure, sexual animals. Love and affection were not part of their makeup and that was that. I congratulated myself on finding and enjoying two such prizes. Most men look for women like that all their lives and count themselves lucky if they find one and enjoy her pleasures only fleetingly.
After my fourth martini, I slipped off my stool and left "Harry's Place." The cool sounds from the quartet followed me into the parking lot, which was jammed by that time. Harry's was starting to swing, but I was leaving. It was time to have a talk with Myra and get the ball rolling on her abortion.
She was curled up on the couch watching Johnny Carson on TV when I left myself into her apartment with my own key.
"Where the hell have you been?" she asked without looking up from the screen.
"Business," I replied curtly.
"Humph," she snorted in disbelief.
"I hear you're knocked up," I said, sitting down in a chair across from the couch.
"You hear right," she answered. "Where'd you hear it?"
"Mrs. Hughes told me about your run-in with her," I said. "When she said you almost fainted and then you didn't show up for work after lunch, I figured you'd missed another period."
"You're a regular Dick Tracy, man," she said. "What else have you figured out today?"
"Well, for one thing, I figured out that you're pretty goddamn dumb for getting pregnant," I snapped. "Why weren't you taking the pills?"
"Like, I forgot, man," she retorted. "Sorry about that."
"You'll be a lot sorrier if you have a damn kid," I told her. "Can your quack friend get rid of it for you?"
"He doesn't perform abortions, because they're too dangerous," she said.
"Well can he send you to someone who doesn't think they're too dangerous?" I asked in an irritated voice.
"Haven't asked him," she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her beautiful chocolate colored shoulders.
"Well, goddamn it, Myra, ask him!" I shouted at her.
She continued staring at the television screen and the expression of her face didn't change. Suddenly, I realized that she was crying. The great, crystal-like tears sparkled brightly on her dark cheeks and she was biting her lower lip to keep from sobbing out loud.
I went over to her then and sat beside her, taking her into my arms. She cried openly then, burying her head against my shoulder and neck.
"I'm scared, Paul! For the first time in my life I'm really scared."
I went through all the right motions. I gently cradled her head and stroked her hair while my other arm held her. "It'll be okay, baby," I whispered. "Nothing's going to happen to you. Don't be scared."
"There's something else, too, Paul," she whimpered against me.
"What is it?" I inquired.
"I ... don't want to ... to lose this baby," she stammered. In stunned silence, I listened as she continued. "I love you, Paul, and I want to have your baby. Don't make me get rid of it. Please!"
I didn't know what to say. I was completely taken by surprise. I had no idea that Myra felt that way about me. I thought I was just another lover to her, nothing more or less. I knew she had used me-as I had used her and Donna-to move to a better position at the office, and I thought that was the extent of my importance to her.
I kissed her big, dark lips and she sighed as the tension left her body. Tears dimmed the shine of her eyes as she pressed her luscious body against me, kissing me back from head to toe. My hands raced over her captivating curves, feeling and squeezing until she moaned with delight.
"Take me, Paul," she pleaded. "I need you ... I need you in me...."
I picked her up and carried her to bed. There I quickly and skillfully stripped her naked and laid her beautiful black form on the red sheets. She spread her shapely legs wide apart and ran her fingers lightly over her love region while she watched me take off my clothes.
"I'm ready for you," she sighed when I moved to get into bed with her. Instead of lying beside her for the usual foreplay, I knelt between her outstretched thighs and looked down at the dark, inviting slit. Then I lowered myself into her and shivered with passion as I felt my weapon pierce her love box to the hilt.
"Hard" she whispered in my ear, with her arms wrapped around me. "Do it hard and fast, baby."
Bang! Bang! Bang! I slammed my rod into her with all the force I could put behind it. She responded to every thrust, pumping her hips up to meet me and causing our bodies to collide forcefully.
In less than two minutes, the intensity of our screwing paid off. "I'm coming," Myra hissed against my neck, clawing at my back with her nails and pressing her giant breasts flat against my chest. Cushioned on her soft, feminine flesh, I soared with sexual pleasure too, and pumped my cream into her with one violent twitch after another.
Satisfied, we slept peacefully together for the rest of the night.
The next day was Saturday, and we spent it together in Myra's air conditioned apartment talking, drinking and making love when and where we felt like it. Several times, I tried to bring up the subject of the abortion again, but Myra wouldn't even hear of it. She was sure I loved her as much as she loved me and she wouldn't give up our baby. Naturally, my feelings for Myra hadn't changed at all. She was still just a big sexy woman who was fantastic in bed. I didn't love her and if she insisted on having the baby I intended to have my lawyer force her into a position where I wouldn't be expected to support it.
During our day in the apartment, Myra's telephone rang a number of times, but she refused to answer it.
"It might be something important," I told her.
"No," she smiled each time. "I know who it is. My friend Malco, the black cat with the Afro haircut, who gives me all the pot I want, free."
"Why is he calling," I asked, "and why are you refusing to talk to him."
"He's jealous of you, Paul," Myra said with a wide grin. "Malco digs me. He's all uptight because I'm in love with you-Whitey!" We both laughed at the way she said the word with mock contempt. "Anyway, Malco's been driving me nuts with this "Black is Beautiful" bullshit. He wants me to cut you off and go live with him." She chuckled and tossed her lovely hair. "I mean I dig his "Black is Beautiful" line, but I'm hung up on you and that's it. Like the kids are saying, "White is out of sight, too!"
We laughed together and the phone finally quit ringing.
"What does Malco do, besides give you pot and preach that black is beautiful?" I asked.
"He's a jazz musician," she replied. "Blows trombone. Tough sound, too. He might make it big some day if the law doesn't bust him for smoking grass."
"Sounds like a good friend to have," I said quietly, thinking of the day when she would be out of my life-with or without the baby.
"Yeah," she said, nodding in agreement. "You never can tell when you might need a friend like Malco."
While Myra napped that afternoon, I read over the business section of the previous day's paper.
The market was stable and the demand for the products turned out by Space Age Metals was certain to grow steadily throughout the coming months. I smiled with satisfaction, as I recalled my deal with Frank Harris of Gordon Foundries.
The money soon would be piling up the new bank account Frank would establish next week. The big, dumb slob didn't know it yet but there wasn't going to be any fifty-fifty split of the money. Why should I share it with him? The more I thought about my revised decision to keep the entire kick-back he would soon be banking, the better I liked it.
He wouldn't dare blow the whistle on me, when I told him he was cut out after he'd made the first few illegal deposits in his own name. If he tried to give me a bad time, all I had to do was threaten to withdraw the purchase orders; cancel out the quantities of castings his company was producing for my outfit. Best of all, Harris couldn't expose me, because he was the guy all the records would incriminate.
I had some plans for Les Zimmer, too. His job was the next step in my personal moon shot program. All I had to do was topple him some way in a few months. The other management people liked and trusted me. With Les out of the picture, I would have a good chance to move up. Since Les was a cautious, conservative guy who would never, ever fool around with a broad-unless he was certain it was safe-I planned to involve him with some whore and then blackmail him out of his soft job. I hadn't worked out the details yet, but I knew it could be done.