by Jason Starr
She pulled me up by the hair and practically dragged me out of the apartment.
“Pervert!” she screamed. “If you come back here again I’ll clip off your balls and flush’em down the toilet!”
As you can imagine, I felt humiliated. I decided to forget all about prostitutes and go on with my pathetic life. A few days later, I met Julie at the laundromat. I thought this would put my desire for a prostitute to rest, but after we’d been going out a few months we started talking about marriage and living together. Before I settled down, I wanted to go to a prostitute one time, just to see what it was like.
But I knew it was impossible. If Julie found out our relationship would be over. I tried to forget about the idea, to convince myself that prostitutes were vulgar and dirty, but this only made things worse. I was attracted to prostitutes because they were vulgar and dirty.
Then I had an idea. I started to pretend that Julie was a prostitute. I didn’t call her names or ask her to do kinky things. The fantasy was mine, not hers. When we made love, I imagined a scenario where she had solicited me on a street corner and asked me to get into a car with her. After some bargaining I’d convinced her to come up to my apartment with me where she’d taken off her white fake fur coat and her leather skirt and got into bed. She’d pulled down her fishnet stockings, snapped off her black brassiere, and lay on her back with her legs spread and her red pumps high in the air, screaming perversely.
Sometimes Julie asked me why I always kept my eyes closed during sex and I told her it was because I was concentrating on my orgasm. Of course she believed me. Why wouldn’t she? She had no reason to believe that her nice boyfriend from Bainbridge Island, Washington was dreaming up perverted fantasies. The fantasies kept me from thinking about having sex with an actual prostitute for more than a year.
Then the desire came back, stronger than ever. I’d left Smythe & O’Greeley by then, and I was working mornings at A.C.A. With afternoons free I had a lot of time to myself, which meant I had more time to think about prostitutes. I’d walk around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen looking at the prostitutes behind the Port Authority, on theater row between Ninth and Tenth Avenues, outside the seedy bars near the West Side Highway. There were more prostitutes out at night, so sometimes I told Julie I was meeting an old friend from Seattle or from an old job when I was really out on the streets, looking at prostitutes. I know it sounds like I had some kind of problem, that I should’ve gone to see a shrink or something, but there was no harm in what I was doing. I was just fantasizing, like other guys might fantasize by looking at magazines or porno videos. It wasn’t like I was having an affair.
My favorite spot was between Eleventh Avenue and the Hudson River on West Twenty-eighth Street. It was a dark, deserted block crammed with factory buildings. The prostitutes roamed the sidewalks in their gaudy outfits and high heel shoes, trying to get guys to pull over in their cars and pick them up. It was the danger factor that really excited me. I imagined how erotically terrifying it must be for the woman to get into a car with a total stranger, a guy who might rape or murder her, and then to pull over to a dark quiet place and do whatever the guy paid her to do! That’s what the guy on the Sally Jesse Raphael Show had meant when he said the prostitute was better in the saddle than his wife. The sex wasn’t better, it was just more dangerous than the sex with his wife. His wife knew he wasn’t going to kill her, but the prostitute didn’t know for sure. Then there was the possibility of disease, the thought of all those men, those sleazy bodies she’d let inside her.
I needed to experience the perversity once for myself. Turning on the Sally Jesse Raphael Show had been an omen. The T.V. was trying to tell me that my time had come, that I needed to have sex with a prostitute now, before I got married and it was too late. I didn’t want to cheat on Julie, but if I did it now, before we got married, it wouldn’t be cheating. At least it would be a different kind of cheating, definitely not as bad as having an affair. And I knew Julie would want me to get something like that out of my system before I made a commitment to her.
I was sweating. The air conditioner was on full blast and it certainly wasn’t hot in the apartment. I took off my shirt and went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my chest. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognize the man staring back at me. His face was gaunt and pale, there was a deep two-inch-long gash on his forehead that wasn’t healing. But it was his eyes that frightened me most. They were two dark, dull circles that didn’t seem to be alive.
I looked away, frightened to see any more.
When Julie came home, at about six o’clock, I was back on the couch watching T.V. But I was so happy to see her that I jumped up and ran to the door and kissed her.
“So?” she said. “What happened?”
“Happened?”
“With the plastic surgeon. You went, didn’t you?”
I’d forgotten all about not keeping the appointment with Dr. Goldman.
“Of course I went,” I said.
“So? Where are the stitches?”
“He said the same thing the guy at the hospital said – they aren’t necessary.”
“What do you mean, aren’t necessary? You’ll have a scar there for the rest of your life. You’re already getting a scar.”
“What can I do, force him to stitch me up? He gave me a shot of antibiotics and said I should just keep rinsing it out.”
“Are you sure you went?”
“I haven’t seen you all day and this is the hello I get? You call me a liar?”
She kissed me. I tried to keep kissing her, but she pushed me away.
“What’s wrong?”
“My breath,” she said. “I had the salad bar for lunch and I taste like onions.”
I didn’t care. I grabbed her cheeks and squeezed so hard it made her lips pucker. Then I kissed her again, this time swirling my tongue around in her mouth.
“Your breath tastes delicious,” I said. “I wish the whole world tasted like your breath.”
“Why are you in such a good mood tonight?”
“I missed you, that’s why. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
She blushed.
“I’ve been thinking about you too.”
“I have a surprise for you,” I said.
“A surprise?”
“Wait here.”
I went into the bedroom and got the earrings and the card. When I came back, I told Julie to close her eyes.
“What is this?”
“Trust me. Close your eyes.”
I held the box with the earrings and the card in front of her and said: “Okay.”
When she opened her eyes she smiled like I’d never seen her smile before. Her eyes were glassy, her face was trembling.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks. “This is just so...I can’t believe this. It’s...unbelievable!”
She read the card and started to cry full force. Then she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me with her salty lips.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Open the present.”
“I will,” she said. “I’m just trying to prepare myself.”
After a couple of deep breaths, she started to unwrap the box. She paused a couple of times and smiled and told me how much she loved me. I told her that I loved her too, more than anything in the world. She finished taking off the wrapping paper and slowly opened the box. The way her expression suddenly changed I thought the guy in the store forgot to put the earrings inside.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Nothing,” she said softly. “It’s…they’re wonderful. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
She wanted to put the earrings back in the box, but I made her try them on. They looked good on her, at least I thought they looked good. But something was obviously wrong. She wasn’t making eye contact with me anymore; she looked like she was about to start crying for real. I thought she didn’t like the earrings or that she was upset over so
mething I’d said. Then I suddenly knew what was wrong.
“You were expecting an engagement ring, weren’t you?”
“No,” she said defensively.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Anybody would’ve thought that when they saw the box and after the discussion we had last night.”
“But I wasn’t thinking that at all,” she said. “It may’ve been in the back of my mind, but I wasn’t really expecting a ring. I just didn’t expect earrings, that’s all.”
She started toward the bedroom when I came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist.
“I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” I said, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I just felt like doing something nice for you today, and I was passing through the Jewelry District on my way home from work and I figured, why not get Julie some earrings? But believe me, one day, and probably not too long from now, you’ll come home from work and I’ll have that ring here waiting for you. And when I get it it’s not gonna be some little diamond you need a magnifying glass to see. I’m gonna get you the biggest rock you’ve ever seen. It’s gonna be so big you’ll hardly be able to lift your hand.”
“It’s not the size that counts.”
“That’s what all women say – until you get into bed with them.”
She laughed. I started to tickle her underarms and stomach and she laughed even harder.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face me again, laughing. “I was acting like a big baby, wasn’t I?”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not all right. You did something really nice for me and I didn’t appreciate it. The earrings you got me are so nice. I’m going to wear them to work tomorrow.”
“I’m glad you like them,” I said. “I spent a long time picking them out.”
“How did you pay for them?” she asked, suddenly curious. “I thought you were saving all your money for rent?”
“That’s the other surprise I have,” I said. “I got an advance at work.”
I was waiting for a big smile, but instead she looked confused. Her eyes were shifting back and forth like she was watching a tennis match inside my head.
“I thought you were quitting your job today. I mean isn’t that what we –”
“Something happened,” I said, smiling. “A really freak thing and it changed everything.”
I told her what had happened at work and how Ed had hired me as his assistant.
“What about Seattle?” Julie said. “Last night you –”
“Last night I didn’t know I’d be promoted. Now there’s no reason to go – not yet anyway. I mean maybe after six months or a year we can think about going to Seattle, but right now –”
“I gave notice today,” Julie said. “I told my boss we were moving.”
“So tell him your plans changed,” I said.
“It doesn’t work that way. You can’t give notice then say you changed your mind. He’ll think I’m some kind of idiot.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do?” I said. “You know how long it’s taken me to find a decent job? I can’t just walk away from this. This is the big break I’ve been waiting for. This is a chance to get back into the nine-to-five world.”
“But it’s a telemarketing job. It’s not like you’re going to be working in advertising again.”
“I’ll be a supervisor,” I said. “That’s basically what I was doing at my old job. And besides, at least I won’t be hanging around the apartment every afternoon.”
“But it’s a telemarketing job. A telemarketing job, Bill.”
I was getting frustrated. It felt like the argument could go on forever – I could keep saying the same things over and over again and Julie still wouldn’t understand what I was saying.
She had backed a few yards away from me and had her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“This really upsets me,” she said angrily. “I mean it’s really just unbelievable to me that you could do something like this, without even calling me. And for a telemarketing job – a telemarketing job.”
“Are you going to keep saying that?”
“You didn’t even call me and tell me. What, you think I’ll just automatically do whatever you decide to do?”
“I called you at work, you weren’t there.”
“This is so insensitive of you.”
“I don’t see what the problem is. I thought you’d want to stay in New York.”
“You think your career is more important than mine?”
“Of course I –”
“That’s what it seems like. It seems like you’ll do whatever the hell you want to and you just expect me to follow along like a dog or something. Why didn’t you talk to me first? Why didn’t you say you’d let him know?”
“Maybe when you calm down –”
She grabbed my arm. I hated when people grabbed me like that. Julie wasn’t just anybody, but still.
“I’m not an idiot, Bill,” she said. “I know sometimes you might think I’m an idiot, that you can do whatever the hell you want to –”
I pushed her off me. I cocked my fist back, ready to hit her. I don’t know why I stopped because I wanted to do it. Maybe it was fear. I’d never hit anyone before and I’d certainly never hit a woman. After what had happened the other day, when I pushed Julie, I was suddenly afraid that something was happening to me, that I was turning into one of those wife-beaters Sally Jessy always had on her show. I imagined the audience booing me, women saying that they’d kill me if they ever had the chance. I didn’t think I really wanted to hurt Julie, but that’s what the guys on the show said about their wives and girlfriends. The expert psychologists said they were in denial. Was I in denial too?
“I can’t believe you,” Julie said. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Did what?” I said defensively.
“You were going to hit me. That’s what you wanted to do, right?”
“Of course not,” I said. “What do you think I...let’s just forget about it, all right?”
“Stay away from me,” she said. “I’m so angry right now I could kill you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said.
“But you wanted to. It’s the same thing. Almost the same thing anyway. I’m not going to take this...this bullshit either. I’m a good woman. I have a lot to offer. I don’t understand how you could do this to me after everything I’ve been through.”
Feeling extremely guilty, I walked away to the kitchen. I knew exactly what Julie was talking about – she’d told me all about it on our first date. It had to do with her old boyfriend from college. She’d gone out with him for three years, off and on. He was in a fraternity at Albany and she was in the sister sorority. At first it was a dream relationship. They took classes together, took trips together, they even moved off campus together junior year. Her parents loved him. Why wouldn’t they? He was Jewish, from a good family, and he was planning to go to law school. Then something changed. He started spending more time with his friends, less time with her. She heard rumors about other women, fraternity gang bangs. He went out drinking every night of the week and when he came home he’d yell at her, call her “bitch,” and “whore.” A couple of times he hit her. She broke up with him twice, but each time he promised he’d change and they got back together. But the violence got worse. One day she had bruises all over her face. She called her parents for help, but they didn’t seem to understand. They just couldn’t believe a nice Jewish boy would really hit their daughter. Finally, she moved in with a friend. Her parents were furious with her for ending the relationship; her father said she’d destroyed her future. She wouldn’t talk to her parents for months. She went into therapy and gained twenty-five pounds. She avoided relationships with other men, fearing the same thing would happen. She once told me I was the only man she had ever really trusted.
“Is that your response?” she said. “You’re just turning away from me?�
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“I feel so awful I don’t know what to say,” I said. “I mean I didn’t mean to do that. It was just a reflex. It had nothing to do with how I really feel about you.”
“It scared the hell out of me.”
“I swear I’ll never do anything like that again. If I do, that’s it, I’ll walk out of here. I’ll never hurt you.”
“I hope you mean that.”
“I do. I swear I do.”
After a couple of minutes of silence, which is a long time for two people to be silent in the same room together, Julie said:
“So when does the job start?”
“Monday,” I said, happy to be on to a new subject. “And I’m really looking forward to it too. I think it’s gonna change me, make me like I used to be before I lost my job.”
Julie seemed to like this idea.
“What about Seattle? That plan’s totally off now?”
“Not totally, just for now. This is very important to me. This could change my life – our lives, I mean. That’s the most important thing, that we stay together.”
“As long as we’re happy,” she said. “I guess that’s the important thing, right?”
“Of course that’s the important thing,” I said. “I knew you’d understand.”
I wanted her right then – on the kitchen floor. I wanted her like I’d wanted that prostitute.
“What are you doing?” she said. “Wait, I have to get out of my work clothes.”
“I’ll get you out of them,” I said.
My hand was up her skirt, reaching under her panties. Why not? She was just a whore I’d picked up on a street corner. She didn’t expect me to kiss her or look at her while I did it. I was paying her for this time, like I’d hire a maid to clean the house or a plumber to fix my pipes.
But I couldn’t do it.
“It’s okay,” Julie whispered into my ear. “We don’t have to do it now. We can wait till after dinner.”
But I wouldn’t give up. I kept trying to get it inside her – bending it, pushing it, massaging it, tickling it, but no amount of stimulation helped. Even fantasizing that Julie was a prostitute hadn’t been able to get me hard.
“I’ll go down on you if you want me to,” Julie said.
