Anyway, Toots has found her rich American and she’s getting him ready for the hook. She tells me she’ll probably marry him. He owns a chain of grocery stores in America and he hasn’t any family or any kids. But before she can get him to marry her she has to get him to lay her… without looking like a bitch. He’s a very moral old bastard, Toots tells me … he doesn’t even try to feel her up … it has her worried.
Alexandra is having a moral convulsion. A letter from her, and she has gone back to the church … not the Greek Orthodox of Russia . . blazing Roman Catholicism. A priest calls on her three times a week to instruct her, and she’s sent the children off to the country. Her letter is mystic … a mystic letter from that cunt! It is all I can do to finish it. There doesn’t seem to be an answer called for … Alexandra has found the answer to everything … . . at least for awhile …
Anna is feeling low. I meet her on the street–she’s not going anywhere and neither am I, so we get drunk. She wants to cry at first, but a few drinks fix that.
At first I think she has the rag on, but that’s not what’s wrong … . it’s just that she’s a woman she says, and without talent. If a man felt the way she does he’d beat his mistress or go to a prize fight. She’s restless, the days go by and she does nothing with them. If she could only paint or write books! Or even if she had a job to go to every day. But she can’t paint or write and she doesn’t need a job …
she’d get tired of getting up every morning after a week …
I’m positive that what she needs is a good fuck. Something happens in women’s heads when they’re deprived for too long of that little parcel of happiness between their legs. I ask when she’s been taken to bed last.
She’s been taken to bed often enough, Anna says, but it hasn’t been as good as it ought to be. To tell the truth she hasn’t been coming … the man who’s keeping her is too old to fuck her as often as he tries to and he makes a bother of it… . If he’d just try to give her a good lay once every two weeks or even once a month! But no, he has to show her what a man he is and it isn’t any good.
To tell the truth, Anna finally confesses, she hasn’t come since that unmentionable night at my place … since she got scared and ran out without her clothes. Not of course, that she believes in doing that sort of thing. But what she did that night … the way she acted … frightened her so that she resolved to be faithful to her admirer. He’s the only one who’s laid her since that night when she let the three of us gang up on her … and as she said… .
Anna doesn’t mind giving me a feel, but she doesn’t think it’s nice to play with each other with so many people around. Nevertheless I slip my hand under her dress and tickle her thighs until she’s squirming on the seat. It becomes more fun with each drink, and Anna eventually moves her chair around so that she can slip her fingers into my fly, too.
In the back of the taxi while we are being driven to my place, things become a great deal warmer. I pull Anna’s dress up and take her pants off, and she brings Jean Jeudi out into the night air. She lets me tickle her crotch, but I mustn’t try to play dirty finger with her … the driver would smell it. Shit, if he doesn’t smell it already there’s something wrong with him. I grab her and try to play with her anyway. Anna falls drunkenly off the seat and puts her head in my lap. She’ll do THIS, she whispers, if I’ll be quiet until we arrive. I let her do it … I lean back in the seat and watch Anna sucking my dong until we stop at my door.
Then upstairs, the surprise. Toots is curled in front of the doorway, stinking drunk and asleep. She doesn’t wake up when I shake her … she moans and begins to make a racket, so Anna and I take her by the heels and drag her in… .
Anna is laughing.
Toots lies sprawled in the center of the floor with her legs apart and her dress up to her belly. She’s wearing pants but her bush sticks out around the edges between her thighs. Anna tickles her and she kicks her feet.
Anna gets a crazy idea. She wants to undress Toots and she thinks I ought to fuck her while she’s asleep! My God, the purity of women! And Anna’s a moral cunt, too … at least as moral as women ever get to be. There’s something in a woman’s make-up that makes them a fuck of a lot more interested in other women than you think they ought to be. Take two men and one woman, and one of the men passed out, and the chances are ninety to one that the only one who got his prick played with would be the one who was still on his feet. It’s certain that if anything happened to the lush, it would be the woman’s idea.
Anna unfastens Toots’s dress and takes it off carefully over her head. Then she sits down with her skirt tucked up in such a way that I can see her cunt and begins to feel Toots up. It’s more curiosity than anything else . . she wants to see what the cunt does when she feels somebody’s hands on her … but it looks damned queer. She knows all the best places, too, being a woman… .
Toots doesn’t do anything at first. She lies like a rock while Anna gives her teats a squeeze and a pinch and takes off her brassiere. Anna tickles her belly and her crotch … she begins to feel her thighs and rub them.
“I feel like one of those damned Lesbians,” Anna says. She means it … she tries to laugh, but her voice sounds strange. I pour myself a drink and sit down to watch … on top of having Anna suck my prick in a taxi, this business gives me a bastard of a dong.
Anna doesn’t touch Toots’s fig. She rubs all around it, pulls Toots’s pants down and almost off, reaches between her thighs to give her ass a feel. Toots half wakes and wiggles … she reaches for Anna’s hand and holds it … then pushes it across her con. Anna giggles but she’s blushing in a way I never saw her blush before. She plays with Toots’s bonne-bouche, touching the upper part of the split but not putting her fingers into it.
“She’s dreaming of you,” she says.
Toots must be dreaming of something … she closes her legs and holds Anna’s hand between them, then opens them as far as they will spread.
“So this is what it’s like to be a man,” says Anna. “I used to wonder …” She slips her finger into Toots’s abricot-fendu and moves it around. “My God, it feels queer. I’m glad I’m not a man! All that hair tickling your finger …”
“Stop shitting me, Anna. Your own hair has tickled your finger plenty of times.”
“That’s different,” she tells me. “Besides I haven’t played with myself since I was a girl …”
Anna wants me to climb on Toots and fuck her. Fuck that, I tell her … if Toots ever comes back to life I might screw her; but to put meat up her legs when she’s a corpse … it’s a sheer waste of cock. When I lay a cunt I like her to feel it, to know what’s going in and to yell at the right times.
Anna lays her head along Toots’s thigh and pets her belly. She’s never had her nose so close to a cunt, she tells me … it’s an odd smell when you get so close.
I leave her there while I go out to take a piss … . I have to do something or John T. is simply going to drown in his own water. When I come back Anna sits up very quickly … She’s wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She’s been licking Toots’s fig, the bitch! I can tell it just by looking at her, and she knows it’s no secret … she pushes off her shoes and curls her toes.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I tell her.
“Listen Alf,” she says, speaking very quickly, “you have to believe me … I never did such a thing in my life! I just wondered… . I wanted to know what it was like… . I think I… . I must be pretty drunk …”
She is pretty drunk. And I believe her, of course. Shit, haven’t any reason not to believe her … Anna’s no girl lover. But she’s a filthy bitch … I don’t imagine that there’s much she wouldn’t try if she were hot enough and drunk enough.
“Well, what is it like?” I ask her.
She doesn’t
