Chapter 11
Crazy peeked through an opening in the heavy curtain which hung the width of the Purple Pussycat's back wall. He recognized Dean in the distance, way up front at the bar. The man he was talking with seemed familiar too. Crazy almost thought he could frame the man's name if he tried. He did so, and the man's name seemed about to come to him. But after a few seconds the effort made his head hurt, so he gave it up. Jules and the others were up on the stage to his left. He sensed dimly that they were occupied and wouldn't be coming to the rear of the clutr for a while.
A leering grin split his peaked face as he let the curtain fall shut and scuttled across the darkened area to a rough wooden door. A beam of yellow light fanned out from under the door. He was being extra careful not to stumble. That was a problem he had, stumbling sometimes when he moved about He was glad his sneakers enabled him to move so silently as he crept close to the door and put his ear stealthily against it. Yes, he heard something. There must be a girl in there. Girl. Good. He couldn't remember when he had started to equate the two words, but sensed somehow it was a recent phenomenon.
He almost articulated the words-Girl-Good, Good-Girl-as he slipped away from the door, but he was mindful of the need for silence. A crude wooden ladder stood before him, tacked to the wall. As he measured it, he rubbed his hands awkwardly together, elbows flapping, and licked his wet lips in anticipation.
He grasped the rungs of the ladder with spectacular lack of muscular coordination. Nonetheless, by dint of intense concentration, he negotiated the distance to a catwalk which ran across the building high up. Very slowly in the darkness, he crept on all fours along the catwalk. His goal was a position above the ceilingless wooden stall which served as the Purple Pussycat's go-go girl dressing area. The only light was the faded yellow glow pouring up through the non-existent roof of the cubicle.
Then he saw her. Girl! Good! Karen's shimmering nude figure stepped into full view as he watched, rapt. Pretty. The naked girl stood before the full-length mirror, apparently sharing Crazy's silent appreciation of her charms. Her fingers lightly brushed her thighs and slipped up over the smooth flesh of hips and tummy to weigh the ripe fullness of pink-tipped young breasts. Oo-o-o-o, pretty, Crazy said to himself.
What was she doing now? Turning from the mirror, her curvaceous nudity beneath and facing him, Karen bounced into a series of limbering-up jumping jack exercises. Why she do that? Crazy wondered fuzzily through the rudimentary awareness that whatever her reason, it was pleasing to his eye. As she jumped gracefully up and down, arms pumping, legs spreading and joining, Crazy felt a great lump of want forming in the pit of his stomach.
With each bouncy jump, her rubbery breasts flapped enticingly, their pink points jiggling. Crazy forgot to lick away the salivary evidence of his lust, which was wetting his protruding lower lip.
Suddenly, the lovely nude beneath him stopped the jumping jack exercise and arched nimbly into a deep back bend. Crazy had to clap his hand to his mouth to stop the groan of elemental delight that welled up in him. Her glowing skin was glossed with a fine sheen of perspiration as she eased into the strenuous position. As she did so, her jutting femininity opened before his eyes and caused a convulsive tremor to pass through him.
Now the girl was slipping into her dance leotard, and Crazy beat a hasty retreat back along the catwalk. His sweaty palms nearly caused him a fall as he crawled down the ladder, consumed with his aching, uncomprehending need.
He had just positioned himself next to the split in the curtain through which he knew she would have to pass, when the dressing room door opened and the girl approached him in the gloom.
He stood humbly, hunched over, his eyes moist with tears, his hands extended beseechingly as the lovely girl drew abreast.
"Girl. Good", he grunted in his husky garbled voice The girl did not reply. Fixing him for a moment with a pitying stare, she passed on through the curtain.
A tear trickled down Crazy's sallow cheek as he stood rooted. Across his pleading, still-extended hands lay his belt.
Outside in the big room, Jules and the band swung into their new rock arrangement of "I'll Never Be The Same."