The Duplex

by Lucky Stevens

  I felt relieved when the houselights dimmed. At this point I didn’t want to think about conversing. It was a Casper cartoon. Good, I could use a little chuckle.

  “Damn, I forgot to get something at the refreshment counter,” he whispered.

  “Well, go ahead, I’ll save your spot for you.”

  “Nah, don’t bother. I’ll find something to nibble on,” he said, dropping to his knees and unzipping my pants. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer and it all seemed to happen in one motion. He talked like he was ordering a Coke—as cool as a cucumber. Me, on the other hand, I was as nervous as could be. I started looking around like mad. I saw why he picked the back of the theater. It was very dark and I could only make out shadows. I glanced over my shoulder wondering if that aisle curtain might come flying open any second.

  I tried to relax but it wasn’t easy. My brain kept asking questions. I guess it’s the lawyer in me. What does the goddamn law say about this? Could I actually be charged with something if I didn’t try to resist? Maybe. Who the hell knew? Then I thought, if this guy is a cop, his dedication to his work has got to get him promoted—or fired. Finally, I forced myself to relax, though I was never fully comfortable. From there, it didn’t take long.

  He kept it neat and put me all back together again, zipping me up and so forth. Then he sat back in his seat and spoke in my ear. “What’d I miss?” He nodded toward the screen and grinned.

  A feeling of relief warmed my whole body, followed by an uncontrollable shiver. I smiled and laughing nervously said, “I have no idea.”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  I took out a cigarette, lit it and held out the pack to him. He held his hand up to decline and we sat there quietly, and I imagined we both felt very satisfied. Half of my relief and giddiness was from what he had just done, how good he was at it. And how he’d just taken over. There was no asking or implying. He just unzipped my pants and got to it. I don’t think I could ever be that forward. It made me shake with—I don’t know. I just felt waves of joy coursing up and down my body even after it was over.

  The other half of my relief was the fact that he wasn’t a policeman, although I kept imagining, I don’t know why, that any moment he’d show me a badge and tell me I’m under arrest. I know it seems silly, or maybe not, but after that incident with William at the bungalow I just can’t relax when it comes to interacting with men. Not that I was ever great at it, but after that incident, well, it just all makes me so anxious.

  But the reality, thank God, is that no one around seemed to be paying any attention to us. From the shadows, only occasionally lit up, the other patrons seemed to be pawing at each other or watching the screen which was now showing trailers.

  I was deep in thought, and the movie screen, and all its sound, was a blur to me when I felt him nudge me. I looked at him. He had a kind of mischievous grin. “Listen, something just came up, and I’d sure hate to waste it,” he said pointing to his obviously hardened crotch.

  I guess I must have looked surprised. It’s not that I’m selfish. I guess I just had so much on my mind. Then he continued. “You better get to it. Another one of these might not come along for another minute and a half or so.” He took the cigarette out of my mouth and put it between his own lips. He grinned and clasped his hands behind his neck, his eyes closed. He was obviously waiting for me. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I did. But I guess I still had trouble getting over the idea that we were out in public. I looked at him until he peeked one eye open. “Say, come on now,” he said, puffing away. “One good turn deserves another.” He looked serious. Not mean or anything, but just like he was a man who was very, uh—assumptive, when it came to getting what he wanted. And I have to say, that attitude both excited and terrified me. It also made me feel envious.

  I looked around one more time. He seemed to get a kick out of this, and I finally lowered myself to my knees.

  When it was all over, he handed the cigarette back to me. We both seemed pretty happy, and we watched the screen for a while. My guess is that Sabrina is not a very complicated movie, but at that point I realized that I had absolutely no idea what was going on, so I decided to ask him if maybe he’d like to go for a walk or something. But before I could say anything, he tapped my shoulder. “Hey, if all the same to you, I think I’m going to shove off.”

  I was stunned. And then I blurted out, “How about a walk or something.”

  “A walk.” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure. Let’s go.”

  We exited the theater into the upstairs lobby as we made our way downstairs. He led the way, and it always seemed he was a few feet ahead of me.

  “Well, kid,” he said. “The movie was okay, but the refreshments here are always terrific.” He smiled at me and punched my shoulder. He did it playfully, I guess, but it still hurt a little. I smiled back. I hoped he was telling me the truth, but it still felt good to hear.

  “I just realized I don’t even know your name,” I said.

  His lip curled up a little, and he looked at me hard like he was thinking.

  “Mine’s Jerry Ripley,” I said, figuring someone better say something.

  His face shifted a little, but his curled lip remained. “I guess I could believe that. Or not, Ripley.”

  I get that a lot, but I have to admit that he said it in a lot more of an entertaining way than most people do. There was definitely something about this guy. I liked him. I liked him a lot.

  “Good to know you, Jerry,” he said. We shook hands. “Mine’s Cliff.”

  Barbara Penczecho

  I was very happy to hear from Cliff. Dot and I have hung out with him several times since that night when he beat up that cop over at Eddie’s Bar, and I saved his caboose. That last part is something I insist on reminding him of every time I see him, and it is always good for a laugh between us.

  “What kind of trouble have you been getting yourself into, Cliff?” I said into the phone.

  He proceeds to tell me all about this new guy he met a few weeks ago at the Paramount in downtown. They had been having a good time, and Cliff had taken him out camping and hunting and motorcycling. And to the fights. Opening a whole new world to this guy.

  I sensed some doubt. “Well, does he enjoy doing these things, Cliff?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Everything’s my idea, but he seems to be a pretty good sport about things, I guess.”

  “So what is the problem?”

  “Nothing. Who says there’s a problem?”

  “Uh-huh. Spill.”

  “Well it’s, look, it’s not a big deal. I just thought the four of us might double, that’s all.”

  “Sure. I will ask Dot. Why not?”

  “All right, swell. I think it’ll do the kid some good. He seems real spooked about going out just the two of us. Probably because he had a bad experience with a cop. You know how it is. I told him he worries too much.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it seems to me you were a little rattled yourself after your altercation over at Eddie’s.”

  “Well, temporarily yeah.”

  “So, you have been back to Eddie’s?”

  “I go there every night, doll.” I heard the smile in his voice.

  “Hello, hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Appleton,” I said, right away recognizing her raspy voice.

  “Hello Barbara, I’m so sorry. Will you be long, dear?”

  I assured her that we would be off soon, and she said it was fine and hung up.

  “Who was that? One of those pushy girl scouts trying to unload some cookies?” asked Cliff.

  “That was my party line, smartass.” And right away I started thinking about everything I had been talking about with Cliff. I sure hope she had not been listening in.

  “Well, if she picks up again, order me a box of Chocolate Min
ts.”

  Dot seemed a little hesitant, but me, I was up on my toes, deep in the pink. I had not done much of this so-called lavender dating, but it nevertheless seemed like it should be a tickle to bask in conventional mating rituals for the night. Actually, to tell you the truth, it felt like Halloween to me. Go out with friends, run all over town pretending, have a few laughs. What harm could it do?

  “How do I look?” asked Dot. Again.

  “Better than Gorgeous George himself.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You look great, kid. I already told you. Relax. Remember, you already impress me. You do not have to impress them at all. Just be yourself and do not worry about a thing. Come here,” I said, pointing to the side of my face. “Hit me.”

  Dot gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  Then she took a deep breath and sat on the couch and fussed with her dress. I put the final finishing touches on my lipstick over at the mirror near the door.

  When the doorbell rang, I noticed Dot jumped a little and put her hand to her mouth like she was stifling a gasp. I just smiled and shook my head. “You are adorable, kid.” She smiled back, a little embarrassed. “I am not going to have to worry about you, am I?” I added. “I mean, I hope you got the right script, kid. You know you are with me, right?”

  This flustered her and she laughed and nodded and gestured toward the door, which I opened.

  “Hiya, Duchess.” It was Cliff and without taking his eyes off of me, he said to the man standing next to him, “Here. Hold these.” Then he jetted his arm out and handed the man some flowers he was holding, stepped into the apartment, grabbed me, dipped me back and started kissing my neck until I was out of breath from laughing and made him stop.

  Next, he looked over his shoulder. “Come on in, Jerry. Don’t just stand there.” Jerry entered, shutting the door behind him.

  “Barbara, this is Jerry. Jerry, Barbara. Feel free to attack her neck with all you got. You saw how much she loves it.”

  “Maybe I’ll start here,” said Jerry as he kissed me on the hand and slipped me a bouquet of flowers.

  “Thank you, Jerry. They are beautiful.”

  “Yeah, thank you, Jerry. Good job making me look bad,” said Cliff who was on his way over to Dot on the couch. “And don’t think we forgot about you, sweetheart. How are you, Dot?”

  “Great, Cliff, how have you been?”

  “Fantastic. Jerry, this is Dot. Dot, Jerry. What’d I tell you, Jer? She’s got a body straight out of Archie Comics, huh?”

  “Not bad, not bad.”

  “Don’t expect anything boys just because you know how to flatter a girl,” she responded.

  “Well, maybe these’ll change your mind,” said Cliff as he seized the second bouquet of flowers out of Jerry’s hand and gave them to Dot, all while batting his eyelashes.

  She laughed. “Thank you, boys.”

  “Well what about me, fellas? How do I look?” I said, feigning like I was a snubbed female. Really I just wanted to see what these two characters might come up with linguistically-speaking.

  “Like you should be illegal in all forty-eight states.” It was Jerry, and he said it right away, and like he had rehearsed it ahead of time. But what the hell. He was cute, and I liked how he rolled with the punches.

  I laughed. “Thank you, Jerry,” I said from across the room. I then cleared my throat as a hint. “Cliff, what about you?”

  “I think I look wonderful and should be illegal in all forty-eight states, also.” And when I put my hands on my hips in mock annoyance, he added, “Hey, I already physically attacked you. What more do you want?”

  “Why, what every girl wants. A wink, a nod, a little chivalry and eventually a ring on my finger.”

  “Yeah, sure. Jerry, you take the mouthy one. All right, we all ready to hit the road?”

  “Yeah, let me just grab my gloves in the bedroom,” I said as I headed toward the hallway. The boys then did a little bit which I was able to hear even from the other room.

  “Women. They always keep you waiting,” said Cliff.

  “Why do we put up with it?”

  “I don’t know Jerry. I just don’t know. I mean, can you think of a single thing about women that’s attractive?”

  “Nope. Maybe I’m just the wrong guy to ask, but not really.”

  “Yep, I don’t know what the general public sees in them.”

  “Welp, can’t live with ‘em—”

  “—can’t live without ‘em.” Dot and I had been standing there together for the last part of this routine and decided to finish that last sentence for the boys which made us all four laugh.

  With the tone of the evening in its proper place, we exited the apartment.

  As much as I adore Cliff, I figured I better latch onto Jerry. I don’t know, he just seems a little more like the babe-in-the-woods type. Besides that, it would give me a chance to get to know him. So I stood next to him and slipped my hand around his arm. I gave his bicep a little squeeze. “Ooh, al dente. Just right.” He smiled, and I smiled back. Naturally Cliff and Dot paired up themselves, and us girls held on to each fella’s arm as the men escorted us down the stairs.

  As we headed to the car, I was happy to see that my landlady—her name is Mrs. Tambler—was on her patio watering her flowers. She has always been a very nice woman, but she can also be on the nosy side of the street. Because of this fact, I have had to be careful with Dot, whom Mrs. Tambler has now seen numerous times.

  I have told her that Dot is my closest friend, but I am not sure she buys it. For one thing, Dot is quite beautiful and ten years younger than I am. A fact that is a plus for me, but I think a little suspicious looking for Mrs. Tambler. I also only have a one-bedroom apartment, so the idea of Dot spending the night or ever moving in is strictly out.

  In any event, with “our men” in tow, I waved to my landlady good and hard in an effort to build up some nice heterosexual brownie points for any possible future mishaps. She looked more than pleased to see Dot and me hanging off the arms of two handsome characters of the masculine variety, shall we say.

  The boys, for their part, were just swell. Opening our doors for us, helping us off with our coats, the works. And the fact is, I think we all enjoyed it. It was fun. And nice to be pampered for the night. The boys took care of everything.

  It was the perfect mixture too, of chivalry and flirting and teasing which was all made possible by the incontestable fact that no one of the opposite sex was attracted to each other. This is a situation that is very freeing. When there is no chance of romance. No sexual tension. We just played.

  “Hey Barb,” said Cliff, who was driving with Dot up front.

  “Yeah,” I said. I was in the back with Jerry.

  “Remember how I used to carry your books home from school and push you in that porch swing but it wasn’t until I bought you a chocolate bar that you’d ever let me get to second base with you?”

  I did not miss a beat. “Why Clifford Longfellow Milhouse Lonigan! How dare you bring that up in mixed company! You, you cad! Honestly! What a brute!”

  Cliff, who usually gets the last word in these exchanges, I have noticed, reaches one arm into the back seat frantically bellowing, “Come on, Barb, give me a little feel, right now. I’m so lonely!” while I beat him off with my purse.

  And we all cracked up. Probably mainly because it was like a big joke that only the four of us were in on. None of my straight friends play around like this. There is too much to lose. People get hurt, and their egos get roughed up.

  A few minutes later we had arrived at the restaurant. The Brown Derby. I am talking about the one in Hollywood on Vine Street. Growing up in Brooklyn I always thought there was only one Brown Derby, but I have come to find out, in fact, there are four of them.

  So Cliff pulls up for the valet parking, and we all exit
the car.

  “Listen friend, at the end of the night, bring me back a jazzier ride than this one and there’s a nice tip in it for you. A Cadillac would be just great,” says Cliff to the valet when he was handed the claim ticket. The valet smiled weakly and drove off as Cliff shouted after him, “And don’t change the presets on the radio stations this time!”

  The fellas then take our arms and escort us to the entrance of the restaurant, Cliff, covering his eyes but taking the occasional peek, saying just a little too loudly, “God, I hope no one recognizes me tonight. I’m just not in the mood.” This seems to get the response he was looking for as several people begin following him with their eyes wondering who he might be. One poor unsuspecting tourist even snaps a picture—beautiful! And, of course, Cliff loves every minute of it. I guess we all did.

  It is just that we all spend so much time trying to fly under the radar, avoiding standing out. I suppose there is just something special—at least for us—about something as simple as walking around with a member of the opposite sex. It is like having a license to be free. To be able to say, Hello World! We are not a group of strange little wallflowers that are going to fade into the background. We can actually draw attention to ourselves without fear.

  So when we got up to the maître d’, I felt full of pep and blurted out, “We would like a table with an ocean view, please.”

  He nodded and said, “Everyone’s a comedian. Do you have a reservation?”

  The wait staff was very nice, and a few moments later they seated us in a booth that was only a few tables away from Roddy McDowall. “Listen, if my wife calls, I’m not here,” said Cliff, giving Dot a squeeze and winking at the maître d’ as he departed.

  We, of course, sat boy-girl and we all ate up this idea that we were on a date. Our own private harmless hoax it felt like, complete with Dot and me always having our cigarettes lit for us. As a matter of fact, the boys seemed to revel in beating each other to the proverbial chivalrous punch. You know, who can light the woman’s cigarette the fastest? Playing up the whole, “After you, my dear” jazz and so on. Being treated that way was fun but knowing that the boys didn’t really care about impressing us made it all the more fun. We were saying to hell with mainstream society by beating them at their own game. And what could anybody say? Sure it was all a little over the top and exaggerated but no one could really give us any guff about it. We were playing by society’s rules—maybe in a theatrical way, but still, their rules.