Harry continued to throw water on his face as she talked and ignored her as he walked past her into the bedroom and got dressed and when he finished and was ready to leave he told her ta shut-thefuckup or hed raper in the mouth. Mary stared at him determined not to tolerate his complete indifference. She looked Harry in the eye, expecting, waiting, for him to lower his eyes or turn his head and told him she wasnt going to stand for any more of his shit. Harry stood where he was, still staring at her, but becoming more and more conscious of her eyes, of her, and starting to waver inside, starting to think of spitting in her face, of walking out of the house, becoming more conscious of his thoughts and indecision and almost starting to fear her when her voice pushed these things down in his mind. It wasnt what she said—her words undefined, only one long penetrating sound heard—but just the movement of her lips and the sound providing something tangible to stop his faltering. She had just stopped talking and was still staring at him when he slapped her across the face. Go fuck yaself. Mary continued staring at Harry, her mouth open, touching her cheek with the tips of her fingers. Harry left the house and walked quickly, smiling his smile, to the office ready to start another day of the strike.
The men picked up their signs and gave their books to Harry to be stamped; or filled a cup with coffee, a glass with beer, with a certain amount of resignation and a large degree of silence. They were not completely humorless, but were in no mood for jokes. Harry felt good, free, but was in an introverted mood thinking about Marys and so he sat quietly, nodding, speaking occasionally, and not slapping backs and roaring, but seeming to share the uneasiness and concern of the men.
Harry did not go back to Marys until Friday night. He filled out his expense voucher as usual, talked to the guys who had come over from the Greeks as usual to drink beer, stayed in the office for a while after they left, then went to Marys. He walked right in and went to the corner of the bar, looked around to see if Ginger was there, then ordered a drink. Marys was even more crowded than it had been the other night and there was so much noise from the jukeboxes and people screeching that he could not hear the bartender when he asked him if he wanted his drink mixed. He leaned over the bar to hear, nodded, then jerked his head back when he heard a whistle. A pretty young fairy was looking at him, smiling and shaking his head, saying something, but Harry could not hear him. Harry turned his head but glanced occasionally at him from the corner of his eye. He leaned a little more heavily against the bar, looking around the bar, into the backroom, watching people move, watching their gestures, glancing occasionally at the pretty young one still standing in the same place at the bar. Harry tried to imagine what was being done with hands under the tables in the backroom, and what was being done at the tables out of his sight.
He finished each drink in two swallows and the swallows were closer together. He felt good when the strike started. He was nervous when he had to talk to the men at the meeting when they started the strike, but he felt good then too; and he felt good a couple a times since then when the guys came around and they talked and drank and that sort of thing; and he felt real great when the trucks got blown up, yeah . . . yeah, he felt real good that night and the next day with the picture in the paper . . . yeah, thats when they started to know who he really was. They knew he was something before, but after that they really knew. Yeah, it was great gettin more money and spending all ya wanted and just fill-in in a slip, just like those pricks in the company and that punk wilson who think theyre such hot shit walkin around in a white shirt and all that shit, but he was just as good as any ofem, he knew a few things and could throw a buck on the bar. Fuck them, the ballbreakers. They couldnt shove him around anymore . . . yeah, and fuck Mary too. Aint breakin my balls anymore . . . thats right, aint had that dream since the strike started. Blow a couple more trucks up and I/ll never have it. Fuckit. Anyway its gone . . . and thingsll be different after the strikes over too. Ya bet ya-sweetass—he glanced again at the pretty fairy and when he looked back at Harry Harry didnt turn his head. He continued to look and his face unfolded slightly and fell into his smile, but this time it came a little closer to being a real smile and the pretty one smiled and winked—yeah, thingsve been good since the strike. He wished ta krist he could see that fuck wilson and that ballbreaker harrington—Mr. Big-shit—sweatin it out. They mustta shit their pants when the trucks were bombed. Bet he knows what he/ll get if he fucks with me too much—the pretty one was standing next to him. Harry smiled down at him. She wiggled slightly. Can I buy you a drink? Yeah. Harry gulped the last swallow of his drink and let her buy him one. Harry rocked a little on his feet. Guess Im a little drunk. Ive really been throw-inem down. You look like the sort of man who can drink a great deal of hard liquor, touching his forearm and leaning closer. I mustta put a quart away already, not countin what I had this afternoon, holding on to the edge of the bar and twisting his arm slightly so his muscles would tighten. Isnt this place simply marvelous? Yeah, trying to stand taller and straighter. I just love men who work hard, I mean who work with their hands. Yeah, I hate pencil pushers. Me, Im a machinist. 1st class journeyman. But I really work for the union. O, are you an union officer too, smiling. All her johns and trade were the same. They were all some kind of big shot. Yeah, Im pretty big in the union. Im takin care a the strike. O, that must be interesting, not minding a certain amount of this sort of conversation, but hoping it wouldnt go too far. It really is rather crowded and noisy in here, isnt it, smiling and tilting her head back gracefully. Yeah, but it aint bad though. Would you care to leave? we could go to my apartment and have a few quiet drinks. Harry stared for a moment then nodded.
When they got to the apartment Harry sprawled on the couch. He felt drunk. Everything was alright. My name is Alberta, handing him a drink. Whats yours? Harry. She sat next to him. Why dont you take your shirt off. Its rather warm in here. Yeah, sure, fumbling with the buttons. Here, let me help you, leaning over and slowly unbuttoning Harrys shirt, glancing up at Harry, pulling the shirt out of his trousers then sliding it off the shoulders and arms and letting it fall behind the couch. Harry watched her as she unbuttoned his shirt, felt the slight pressure of her fingers. He almost thought about the guys and what they would say if they saw him now, but the thought was easily absorbed by the alcohol before it formed and he closed his eyes and enjoyed the closeness of Alberta.
She stayed close to him, resting one hand gently on his shoulder, looking up at him, sliding her hand along his shoulder to his neck, watching his face, his eyes, for any reaction; feeling a little uneasy with Harry, not absolutely certain how he would react. Usually she knew how rough trade would react before she attempted anything, but with Harry she wasnt too certain; there was something strange in his eyes. She thought she understood what was behind them, but she still preferred a little caution to recklessness. And too, this was exciting. Occasionally she just had to cruise and bring home trade that looked dangerous; but, slowly, as she caressed his neck and back and looked into his face, she realized that she didnt have to fear Harry; and she understood too that this was a new experience to Harry. The puzzled expectant look on his face excited her. She had a cherry. She tingled. She rubbed his chest with the palm of her other hand. Your chest is so strong and hairy, the tip of her tongue showing between her lips; rubbing his back, touching gently the pimples and pockmarks. Youre so strong, moving closer, touching his neck with her lips, her hand moving from his chest to his stomach, to his belt, his fly; her mouth on his chest, then his stomach. Harry raised himself slightly as she tugged at his pants then relaxed, then tensed as she kissed his thighs and put his cock in her mouth. Harry pushed against the back of the couch, squirmed with pleasure; almost screamed with pleasure at the image of his wife being split in two with a large cock that turned into an enormous barbed pole, then he was there smashing her face with his fist and laughing, laughing and spitting and punching until the face was just a blob that oozed and then she became an old man and he stopped punching and then once more it was M
ary, or it almost looked like Mary but it was a woman and she screamed as a burning white hot cock was shoved and hammered into her cunt then slowly pulled out, pulling with it her entrails and Harry sat watching, laughing his laugh and groaning, groaning with pleasure and then he heard the groan, heard it not only from inside, but heard it enter his ear from outside and he opened his eyes and saw Albertas head moving furiously and Harry moaned and squirmed frantically.
Alberta kept her head still for many minutes before getting up and going to the bathroom. Harry watched her walk away then looked at his prick hanging half rigidly between his legs. It hypnotized him and he stared at it for a moment knowing it was his yet not recognizing it, as if he had never seen it before yet knowing he had. How many times had he held it in his hands as he pissed; why did it seem new to him? Why did it suddenly fascinate him so? He blinked his eyes and heard the water running in the bathroom. He looked at his penis again and the strangeness disappeared. He wondered briefly about his thoughts of a moment ago. He couldnt remember them. He felt good. He looked toward the bathroom waiting to see Albertas face.
Her face had a polished wax glow and her long hair was neatly combed. She wiggled toward him, smiling. She laughed, lightly, at Harrys surprised look when he noticed she was wearing nothing but a pair of womans lace panties. She poured two more drinks and sat beside him. Harry took a gulp of his drink and touched her panties. Do you like my silks? Harrys hand jerked back. He felt Albertas hand on the back of his neck. She gently guided his hand to her leg. I love them. They/re so smooth, holding his hand on her leg and kissing his neck, his mouth, sliding her tongue into his mouth, searching for his, feeling the bottom of it as Harry curled his tongue back in his mouth, caressing the base of his tongue with hers, Harrys tongue slowly unfolding and lapping against hers, his hand grabbing her cock, Alberta moving his hand away and back on her leg, letting her saliva drip from the tip of her tongue onto Harrys, squirming as he clutched her leg tightly, almost feeling the drops of spit being absorbed by Harrys mouth, feeling his tongue lunging into her mouth as if he were trying to choke her; she sucked on his tongue then let him suck on hers, rolling her head with his, moving her hand over his lumpy back; slowly moving her head back and away from his. Lets go into the bedroom, darling. Harrv pulled her toward him and sucked on her lips. She slowly separated her mouth from his and tugged him from the back of his neck. Lets go to bed, slowly standing, still tugging. Harry stood, staggering slightly. Alberta looked down and laughed. You still have your shoes and socks on. Harry blinked. He was standing with legs spread, penis standing straight before him, naked except for his black socks and shoes. Alberta giggled then took his shoes and socks off. Come on lover. She grabbed him by the prick and led him to the bedroom.
Harry flopped onto the bed and rolled over and kissed her, missing her mouth and kissing her chin. She laughed and guided him to her mouth. He pushed at her side and at first Alberta was puzzled, trying to understand what he was trying to do, then realized that he was trying to turn her over. She giggled again. You silly you. You never have fucked a fairy before, have you? Harry grumbled, still fumbling and kissing her neck and chest. We make love just like anybody else honey, a little peeved at first then once more relishing the charm of having a cherry. Just relax, rolling over on her side and kissing him, whispering in his ear. When she finished the preparations she rolled back onto her back, Harry rolling over on her, and moved rhythmically with Harry, her legs and arms wrapped around him, rolling, squirming, groaning.
Harry lunged at first, then, looking at Alberta, slowed to an exciting movement; and as he moved he was conscious of his movements, of his excitement and enjoyment and not wanting it to end; and though he clenched his teeth from lust and pinched her back and bit her neck there was a comparative relaxing, the tautness and spasms being caused by pleasure and desire to be where he was and to do what he was doing. Harry could hear hers and his moans blending, could feel her under him, could feel her flesh in his mouth; there were many tangible things and yet there was still a confusion, but it stemmed from inexperience, from the sudden overpowering sensations of pleasure, a pleasure he had never known, a pleasure that he, with its excitement and tenderness, had never experienced—he wanted to grab and squeeze the flesh he felt in his hands, he wanted to bite it, yet he didnt want to destroy it; he wanted it to be there, he wanted to come back to it. Harry continued to move with the same satisfying rhythm; continued to blend his moans with hers through the whirlygig of confusion; bewildered but not distracted or disturbed by these new emotions giving birth to each other in his mind, but just concentrating on the pleasure and allowing it to guide him as Alberta had. When he stopped moving he lay still for a moment hearing their heavy breathing then kissed her, caressed her arms then rolled slowly and gendy onto the bed, stretched out and soon slept. Harry was happy.
Harry didnt open his eyes immediately when he awoke, but lay thinking then opened them suddenly, very wide, and turned and looked at Alberta. Harry sat up. The entire evening jammed itself into Harrys mind and his eyes clouded from his terrible anxiety and confusion. For the briefest moment he hid behind alcohol and overlapping images hung in front of him, then passed. He dropped back on the bed and fell asleep once more. When he awoke again later he no longer wanted to run. The frightening clarity felt for the moment when he first awoke assimilated itself with the usual confusion of Harrys mind and he was now able to look at Alberta and remember the night, in a general penumbrous way, and not be afraid to be there—though still fearing the consequences of having someone find out—but the fears and confusion were overshadowed by his feeling of happiness.
Actually it was this feeling of happiness that bothered Harry more than anything else at the immediate moment he sat in the bed and looked at Alberta and remembered, with pleasure, the night before. He knew he felt good, yet he couldnt define his feeling. He couldnt say, Im happy. He had nothing with which to compare his feeling. He felt good when he was telling wilson off; he felt good when he was with the guys having a drink; at those times he told himself he was happy, but his feeling now went so much beyond that that it was incomprehensible. He didnt realize that he had never been happy, this happy, before.
He looked at Alberta again, then got out of bed and poured himself a drink. Too many things were starting to run through his mind. He couldnt take the chance of sitting there, sober, and allowing them to free themselves upon him. He lit a cigarette and drank the drink as fast as he could, then poured another. He took a little longer drinking this, then went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed with his 3rd drink.
He wanted to wake Alberta up. He didnt want to sit there alone and vulnerable; he wanted to talk with her, but he didnt know if he should call her or shake her or perhaps just bounce up and down on the bed. He took a drink, a drag of his cigarette, then put the cigarette out, rattling the ashtray on the table. Alberta moved and Harry quickly moved his head so he wouldnt be looking at her and yawned loudly. Alberta rolled over and mumbled something and Harry quickly turned, bouncing the bed as much as possible, whatdidya-say? Alberta mumbled again and opened her eyes. Harry smiled his smile and took another drink. Another day had started.
It took Alberta a while to wake up completely, though she did get out of bed and wash and go about her usual morning routine, and so it was quite a while before she became conscious of what Harry was saying and the fact that he was following her around the apartment. He wasnt hanging over her shoulder, but he was always within a few feet of her and whenever she turned Harry was there, smiling his smile. The first word she was aware of, while they drank coffee, was strike and though she still wasnt awake enough to understand each word she understood that he was telling her how he was running a strike, or some such thing, and how he was gonna shove it up somebodys ass. She hoped that he would either stop or slow down or that she would get enough energy to say something that would at least change the subject; but after a few more drinks Harry slowed down and they enjoyed each o
thers company. They went to a movie in the afternoon; ate when they came out; then sat for a few hours in a bar. When they got home Harry made love to Alberta then they sat drinking and listening to music. Alberta found Harry amusing and enjoyed being with him, except when he tried to convince her he was a big shot—though she didnt mind his throwing money on the bar or taking a cab when they only had a few blocks to go—but when he did she changed the subject; and, too, she liked the way Harry kissed her. Not that he kissed any better or was less freaky than the others, but she could feel his excitement from the newness of the experience. They sat for hours on the couch, drinking, vaguely aware of the music from the radio, holding hands and kissing. Alberta leaned her head on Harrys shoulder, her eyes half closed, humming, turning from time to time to glance at Harry. Harry smiled his smile and there was a slight softness about it, and even his eyes had a slight tenderness in them. He touched her hair lightly and his hand tightened on her shoulder. They spoke infrequently and when they did their voices were low, Harrys even losing some of its roughness. They just sat, cuddled on the couch, for hours, Alberta moving a foot in time to the music; Harry loving having his arm around her and feeling her close to him. When Alberta asked Harry if he would like to go to bed he nodded and they got up and, still holding hands, walked slowly to the bedroom.
When Harry left Alberta Sunday afternoon he was in a daze. He hadnt thought of leaving. If she hadnt told him that she had to see someone that afternoon and that he had better leave he would have remained unaware of time and the fact that tomorrow was Monday and there were books to be stamped. He remembered the weekend and everything that happened, but he couldnt believe it was Sunday. Time just couldnt have passed that fast. The bouncing of the cab and the noises of the streets forced reality upon him and he knew he was going back to Brooklyn. He had wanted to ask her if he could see her again, but he didnt know how, no words came from his mouth, they hadnt even completely formed in his mind. He tried hard to think of how to ask her and to get the question out, but then the door was closed and he was walking down the street and now he was on his way to Brooklyn. Who was she going to see? Hed probably see her again in Marys. Hed be going there again.
Last Exit to Brooklyn Page 16
