It isn’t just with me that she plays her little game … Sid was certain that he was going to lay her, told me all about it, and even offered generously to put in a good word for me. Now he comes around with the news that she must use the douche bag that hangs in her bathroom to clean her ears with. He can’t get anywhere.
Women like that can make a nervous wreck of you if you take them seriously.
Two hours of carrying a dong in your pants and you’re ready to go back to masturbation. And you can’t help but take Miss Cavendish seriously. She’s under foot too much of the time to be ignored. I have my nails bitten to the quick… .
Christ, you can’t even cop a feel from her. She talks nothing but fuck. It’s fuck-fuck-fuck every minute that she’s around … but nothing direct, of course.
Grandma might have called her a flirt or a coquette. She knows naughty stories about little boys and little girls … but try to touch that ass! She’ll bring in a new pair of pants that she’s just bought and ask you to admire them … . even lift her skirt and give you a comparative squint at the ones she has on … . but don’t try to get too close to the pair she’s wearing!
Then, when you’re ready to give up in disgust, she becomes somebody else.
The rules are changed, and she comes and sits on your lap. Then it’s permitted to give her a little squeeze on the behind or play with her garters, but before you get anything more than a terrific hard-on she’s gone again and you get a who-the-hell-do-you-think-I-am look the next time you try to touch her.
Last night Sid and I tried getting her drunk, but that didn’t work worth a shit.
Oh she got a little edge on, she laughed easily, and she even let us have a few peeps at her cunt … by way of those wonderful accidents she contrives to have happen. But that was all. When she had teased up to the point where the tension was becoming unbearable, she went home.
I’d let it go and forget her, but the bitch simply won’t let me. This morning she came into my room with nothing but a bath towel wrapped around herself … a big bath towel, but only a towel nevertheless, to ask how the lock on the bathroom door works … .
Ernest is in bed when I call. He’s been waiting to hear from me, he says, and he’s glad to hear that Anna has turned up whole in mind and body. But he’s more interested in my story about the little Chink he sent me to. I don’t tell him that she cost me a week’s pay… . .
It doesn’t matter that I forgot to find out about the cocaine. He’s off that cunt already, he says. She didn’t want him after all. What she was after was a young Spanish cunt that she’d seen him with a few times, and Ernest is disgusted. The Lesbians are taking over the world under our very noses, he insists, under our very noses. A moment later he’s made an epigram … it’s cunt that they’re taking from under our noses … from under our very noses.
Ernest acts uneasy, and I think that he may be expecting some cunt along. He lies with his knees drawn up and the covers bulked around them and apparently intends to stay in bed all day. I ask if he’s feeling well. Oh yes, he’s fine, just a bit tired … and he fakes a yawn. Well, I tell him, I guess I’ll mooch along … and just then something moves under the bedcovers, at Ernest’s knees.
I’ve seldom seen a man look so sheepish as Ernest … . When I see what he’s been hiding I have to laugh.
“Which sex is it?” I ask him. Ernest pushes back the covers and a girl of ten or eleven climbs out from beneath his knees.
“Another two minutes and you’d never have guessed it,” he says. “But now look, Alf, Jesus Christ, keep quiet about this, will you? You know how it is.”
The girl pushes back her straight black hair and wipes her forehead, on the sheet. She complains that it was too hot under there … she was ready to die. She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at me.
“How the hell long have you been keeping this around?” I ask him. “What do you do? Give her peppermints to get her up here?”
She’s the daughter of the people who keep the bar next door, Ernest tells me.
And, he says defensively, she doesn’t visit him only … . . everyone in the neighborhood knows about her.
“It isn’t as though I just picked her up somewhere,” he says. “Shit, there isn’t a fucking thing I can teach her … she knows everything now. Just ask her a few questions, you’ll see that I’m not shitting you. It’s only that she’s learned to fuck a little earlier than most girls do.”
The girl spreads her legs and shows me her bare figlet. She even pulls it open to be certain that I get a good peep.
“You can fuck me if you want to,” she pipes up. “Only I’ve got to let Mr. Ernest fuck me first.”
Does Mr. Ernest fuck her very often, I ask her? No, this is only the third or fourth time she’s been here. He was just ready to fuck her when I came in… .
“Go right on,” I tell Ernest. “I don’t want to spoil anything.” The girl has begun to play with herself with one hand and she’s using the other to shake Ernest’s cock up.
Ernest thinks that I don’t understand. He’s not doing anything that anyone else might do, etc. etc. On the other hand, I do understand, I assure him. I came close to doing the same thing myself … in fact, strictly speaking, it might be said
… . So Ernest feels better.
“By God, Alf,” he says, “you ought to try her once. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d admit it, but it really does give you a kick.” He pushes the bedcovers back with his feet and sits up. He gives the girl a pinch on her ass and sets her shoulders straight. “Look at her. Isn’t she a little beauty? She’ll be a fine cunt when she grows up. And she’s filthy as hell … you ought to hear the line of gab she can toss out at you when she gets sore. And Christ, the stories she tells me! I don’t believe half of them, but the half I do believe is bad enough. Did you know that they have a smell even when they’re as young as this one? It’s just sort of a suggestion, but it’s there all right, all you have to do is get your nose close enough.”
The girl stops playing with herself and grabs his dong with both of her hands.
She knows enough about pricks to understand what makes them big… . she bends over and lets her hair tickle it while she slides her fingers up and down.
“It’s not like this was all I liked to fuck,” Ernest goes on. “Shit no! I’m only trying this as a change. And she’s big enough… . it doesn’t hurt her or anything.
Jesus Christ, Alf, she’s getting laid anyway… . I might as well try it and find out what it’s like.”
He’d be singing the national anthem in a minute, but the girl has him so excited that he’s begun to stutter. She brings her mouth very close to his cock time after time and then draws away just as her lips are about to touch it.
“She wants to charge extra for sucking you off,” he explains, “but she always forgets about it and does it anyway.”
“Charge extra!” I shout. “Do you mean that they know enough to sell it at her age? By God when I was a kid … .”
“Sure she sells it. But that doesn’t make it any less of a good fuck… . .”
The girl stops playing with his dick and starts to diddle herself again.
“You see that?” Ernest says. “She’s nuts about that cunt and the feeling she gets out of it. The money part doesn’t have anything to do with it, some dope probably gave her a few sous once and she found that she could get money too.
But Jesus, Alf, when you get your prick into that little thing, when she starts to wiggle under you and rubs that little belly against yours … . I’m telling you, it’s like nothing you ever tried before.”
“I don’t want to talk,” the girl complains suddenly. “I want to be fucked.”
“That’s the way it is, Alf … . just like that, just like she said. Now watch her when she feels it between her legs. Shit, you’ll think she’s going to kill herself getting onto it. But she’s plenty big enough inside. It’s just the way it looks … .
she doesn’t take it in her cunt, she wraps herself around it… …”
She doesn’t touch Ernest’s cock when he gets himself arranged over her …
