69 Barrow Street

by Lawrence Block

  One hand clenched into a fist. He could feel the tension in his jaw muscles, tried to relax and found it impossible. The fingers of his right hand tightened on the cigarette and he looked down helplessly as the slim cylinder of paper and tobacco was crushed between his fingers. Grains of tobacco spilled to the floor and he ground out the glowing tip of the cigarette with his heel.

  “But, darling, every day I’m a little less afraid of you. Every day I relax more. I…I think I’m going to be able to get there, Ralph. I think I’m going to be able to love you…all the way.”

  He stared at her. For a moment he thought he had heard wrong.

  “Yes, darling. This fear is a very strong thing, the biggest thing in my life so far. It’s what drove me to women in the first place and it’s the thing that has kept me from you so far. But I’m beginning to get over it. I knew this yesterday after you left and I’m beginning to know it more and more. Every minute I spend with you makes me more aware of how much you mean to me, how much I love you. Every time I—”

  “Susan—”

  “Let me finish, darling.”

  He stopped in mid-sentence.

  “Every time I see you I can go a little bit farther, Ralph. But this fear of mine—it’s a hell of a deep-seated thing. It’s probably something so deep inside of me that the only way to find out the cause of it would be to see a psychiatrist, and even that would take years and might not work out after all. But I think it’ll work out, if we give it time.

  “You can’t rush me, Ralph. If you rush me I’ll just stay afraid and…and it won’t do either of us any good. I love you tremendously but it’s going to take time for us to work all this out and…and I want it to work out darling. I want it more than I ever wanted anything in the world.”

  They were both silent for several minutes. He turned slightly and saw that tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes, and very gently he said: “Of course it will work, Susan. Of course it will.”

  And then, without touching her or trying to kiss her, be talked to her. He told her how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He told her everything he had told her the day before and more because he loved her now far more than he had then, and because he knew now that he would love her more and more for the rest of their lives. He would never stop loving her, and he knew this, and he told her so.

  Then, finally, he stood up.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’d better go now.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d just better leave.”

  “Don’t you want to finish the picture?”

  “Not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Light’s not right.”

  “The light’s still good.”

  He shrugged.

  “Tell me, Ralph.”

  He hesitated. How in the world could he explain it to her?

  “Ralph—”

  He said, slowly: “Susan, men are…different from women. When you want somebody badly enough it gets into your blood and you…you can’t think of anything else. Halfway things aren’t enough. I mean—well, you have to make love or you can’t think or concentrate or do much of anything.”

  Neither of them said anything. He stood there, fully clothed, and she sat naked on the bed. They looked at each other and it was minutes before either of them spoke a word.

  Then she said: “Maybe I can help you, Ralph.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned away from him. “Ralph, you’ve got to promise not to…do anything. I don’t want you to touch me or kiss me or anything of the sort. Will you do that for me?”

  “It’ll be tough,” he admitted.

  “Will you promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Then take off your clothes.”

  He wasn’t sure what was happening but he didn’t want to argue. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free from his trousers and slipped out of it. Then he took off his pants and put them with the shirt on a chair.

  “All your clothes, Ralph.”

  He untied his shoelaces and took off his shoes and socks. Then he removed his underwear and stood before her completely naked.

  “Now…lie down on the bed.”

  He did as he was told.

  She sat down on the bed and leaned over him, her eyes probing deep into his. She smiled.

  “See how much better I’m getting,” she said. “This would have terrified me a day ago.”

  He smiled back at her.

  “Remember,” she said. “Don’t touch me or say anything or kiss me. Don’t…don’t do anything at all.”

  He nodded.

  Then she lowered herself to him and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were soft and cool and she kissed him again, more firmly this time.

  Her lips found his mouth and she kissed him a third time. It was all he could do to keep from wrapping his arms around her and kissing her hard, but somehow or other he managed to restrain himself. When her tongue slipped between his lips and tasted the inside of his mouth he wanted to return the kiss, to meet her tongue with his own. But he held himself back.

  Her mouth moved to his throat. As she laid a string of little kisses up and down his neck her hands moved to his arms and her fingers kneaded his biceps muscles gently, tenderly. She kept kissing him, driving him out of his mind with hunger and love for her. He didn’t think he could stand it any longer.

  Her mouth moved lower and she began kissing him on the chest. Her tongue found his nipples and she kissed and licked each of them in turn, tugging on them almost as though he were a woman. He had trouble controlling his breathing and his heart was pounding like a pneumatic hammer.

  “Ralph,” she breathed. “I love you.”

  Her mouth moved lower. She bathed his stomach with her warm tongue until his arms were rigid at his side with his fists clenched tighter than vises. He wanted to grab her, wanted to act on all the sexual passion that had been building up within him.

  Her hands found his thighs and resumed the gentle kneading motion they had used on his upper arms. He writhed and twisted on the bed and began making small involuntary sounds in his throat. Her tongue flicked against the inside of his thigh like a snake and made him gasp for breath.

  She didn’t stop. She worked him into a frenzy, driving him wild with her lips and tongue until he was ready to scream for her to stop, to do anything but not to drive him insane this way.

  Her tongue was busy again on the inside of his thighs. He raised his head to look at her, to say something to her, and as if on cue she looked up at him and stared into his eyes.

  He returned her stare. In her eyes he saw all the love and passion and hunger in the world. Her lips parted and there was a deep, searching, penetrating stare in her eyes.

  And at that instant he knew.

  Maria ached.

  That, she decided, was the only way to describe it. Why, she hurt all over! Her little bottom was all sore where Mummy spanked her and the rest of her body hurt in a million spots from the belt Mummy had used on her.

  Maria hurt.

  It wasn’t fair, she decided. She had been bad, although she couldn’t remember just what it was that had been so bad. But it didn’t really matter. She was always being bad and her Mummy was always punishing her.

  But did her Mummy have to hurt her so very much? It was really terrible. The spanking was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to the belt. The belt whooshing through the air, and she would lie there on the bed waiting for it and not knowing where it would hit, and then it would land and hurt her so terribly.

  It just wasn’t fair.

  But she took her punishment like a good little girl. Yes, no matter how bad she was she would always take her punishment and be good about it. Why, sometimes she didn’t even wait for her Mummy to call her but went straight in to her Mummy and told her that he had been bad.

  Those times she was telling lies, of course. Why, there were times when she told her Mumm
y that she made mud pies just to make her Mummy mad so she would get her punishment. But that all evened it out, because by telling such bad lies she was being bad and deserved the punishment she got.

  But Mummy was so mean—

  The spankings were all right, she decided magnanimously. The spankings were okay, and even the whipping with the belt was all right even if it hurt so much she couldn’t stand it.

  But the burning—

  That, she told herself firmly, was not right at all.

  She fingered her breasts gingerly one at a time. Why, that wasn’t right at all. That was a horribly nasty way to punish a girl. Now why in the world would Mummy do that, taking a cigarette and lighting it and holding the tip to each of Maria’s nipples? Why, it was a perfectly horrid thing to do!

  And it still hurt. Goodness knew how long it would hurt, because Mummy really held the cigarette there a long time and she only seemed to enjoy it even more when poor Maria squirmed and howled and tried to get away.

  What a horrid thing to do!

  That made Mummy a bad Mummy. But that didn’t make any sense, because how could a Bad Little Girl have a Bad Mummy?

  It didn’t make any sense at all.

  And she loved her Mummy.

  But she also hated her Mummy.

  It was all very confusing.

  Chapter Ten

  RALPH LAY ON HIS SIDE on the bed. Susan was snuggled up close to him, the top of her head just level with his lips. Without moving he kissed her gently and smiled when she murmured something that he didn’t hear.

  He was at peace, completely and totally at rest. It was a peace he had never known before, a compelling and overwhelming peace that left him entirely drained of everything but a monumental love for her.

  They were both naked, both wrapped up in each other’s arms. He held her as if he were holding some rare and delicate bird that would die if he held it too tight. Her body was soft and warm against him.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She murmured again.

  “You’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me, Susan. You’re…you’re wonderful—that’s all I can say.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Susan…Susan, I want you to marry me. You will marry me, won’t you, baby?”

  Slowly she raised herself up on one elbow and looked at him with eyes that were brimming over with love.

  “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Marriage is a pretty big thing.”

  “Marriage is forever,” he said. “To me marriage is something that has to be forever.”

  “Forever is a long time.”

  “I know it.”

  “Are you sure you’ll want me…forever?”

  “Positive.”

  She pressed her lips to his throat and kissed him, a long, soothing kiss that had no passion to it but an infinite amount of love.

  “If you want me,” she said, “I want you.”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her all over it—her eyes, her nose, her ears, her lips and her chin, little sexless kisses all over her face. She smiled up at him.

  “I want to stay here tonight,” he said.

  “All right.”

  “Aren’t you…afraid of me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I’m here all night, there’s no telling what I might do.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, Ralph. I don’t think I could ever be afraid of you.”

  He kissed her. Then they snuggled up close again and she reached up and turned out the light. It was still quite early and they lay together for hours, whispering and touching each other, kissing like schoolchildren and talking about what they would do and where they would live when they were married.

  They were both fully relaxed. Neither had to do anything to prove that they were in love, and they rested together as two people can rest only after lovemaking that is completely satisfactory to both parties, lovemaking that is a part of love.

  And, hours later, they fell asleep. They slept all night in one position with their bodies close together and their arms around each other.

  The wind made noises outside the window. Once, in the middle of the night, the wind managed to blow up a storm with thunder and lightning. The rain poured down for almost an hour and the lightning ignited the sky and the thunder cracked and rumbled.

  They never noticed it. They were in love and they were asleep, asleep with each other, and the rain and the thunder and the lightning might just as well never have happened.

  Ralph woke up first. The first thing he was aware of, even before he remembered where he was and who he was and that it was morning, was the woman he held in his arms. He tried to get out of bed without waking her, but as soon as he made the first movement her eyes came open and she smiled at him.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning.”

  “Did I ever tell you I’m in love with you?”

  “Dozens of times.”

  “Honest?”

  “Sure enough.”

  “Well,” she said, sleepily, “I was telling the absolute truth.”

  “Good thing you were.”

  “Mmmmmmm.”

  He smiled to himself and kissed her eyes shut. “Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “That’s a hell of an answer.”

  “You want a better answer?”

  “Mmmmmmm.”

  “I’m going to the bank,” he said. “I’ve got about a hundred bucks in an account in my name and I want to draw it out.”

  “What for?”

  “For us to get married on.”

  She thought for a minute. “You know,” she said, “I couldn’t possibly think of a better use for the money. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t possibly think of a better reason for you to sneak out of bed and leave me alone.”

  “It’s a good reason.”

  “A hell of a good reason,” she said. “But hurry back.”

  He kissed her and pulled himself out of bed.

  He dressed but his clothes were dirty and he stopped downstairs to change them. He made as little noise as possible inside his own apartment in an effort to avoid waking Stella. He changed quickly into a white sport shirt and a pair of cord slacks and left the apartment as quietly as he had entered it.

  But he woke Stella.

  Stella didn’t move until Ralph was gone from the apartment. She didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to see her, as it happened. But the moment the door closed and he was gone, she clambered out of bed and put on her clothes, the same polka dot shorts-and-halter set she had been wearing the day before.

  She washed and brushed her teeth in a hurry, but didn’t bother about breakfast. There was something she had to do, something that had to be done in a hurry. There was no way to tell how much time she had left.

  She put her hand on the back of her head and cursed softly to herself. Susan Rivers swung a mean lamp—there was no question about it. Her head still ached and there was a lump where the blow had landed. She cursed again and sat down for a moment on the couch, thinking.

  There was something she had to do. It had to be done and it had to be done in a hurry. Part of her knew that it was something she shouldn’t do, something she should go back to bed and forget about.

  But she couldn’t.

  No, she had to go through with it. No matter how it turned out, no matter what happened to her, she couldn’t get the notion out of her head. Last night she had tried desperately to take out all of her aggressions on Maria, but all she succeeded in doing was reducing the poor little thing to a mass of quivering, aching flesh. Her own hungers remained unabated; her own lusts stayed just as strong as they had been to begin with.

  And so she had to do the Th
ing. It was a Thing with a capital T by now, because it had grown to assume rather immense proportions in her mind.

  The Thing had to be done.

  She slipped a pair of sandals onto her feet and walked to the door of the apartment. She opened the door, looked around, walked through it and closed the door behind her. The hallway was empty, the building happily quiet. She walked to the stairway and began mounting the stairs, anxious to do the Thing.

  The Thing was very simple.

  She was going to rape and murder Susan Rivers.

  Susan was still dozing when the knock came on her door. If she had been fully awake things might have been different. Then she would have thought clearly, and if she’d thought clearly she would possibly have refused to open the door. At least she would have asked first who it was.

  But, as it happened, she was not fully awake. And it didn’t even enter her mind that the person knocking at the door could be Stella James. For that matter, she didn’t even stop to think that the person knocking at her door could be anyone else in the world but Ralph.

  And she wanted to see Ralph.

  She pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed. Because she assumed that it was Ralph at the door she didn’t even take the trouble to slip into a robe. Ralph was used to seeing her naked, and certainly there was no point in dressing up now for him.

  She padded across the floor to the door. Some reflex made her hesitate for the briefest second with her hand on the doorknob, but the reflex wasn’t enough to keep her from opening the door for Ralph.

  Except, of course, that it wasn’t Ralph at the door. Not at all.

  It was a woman—a tall blonde dressed in a polka dot halter, polka dot shorts, and a pair of sandals.

  It was, naturally, Stella James.

  Susan didn’t entirely believe her eyes for a second. But, automatically, she took a quick step backwards.

  And this was fortunate; because if she hadn’t done this Stella’s hands would have encircled her neck. As it was Stella lunged forward with her hands outstretched and missed and Susan managed to jump back again and out of the way.

  But Stella was inside the door now. And the insane light in the woman’s eyes made Susan want to shriek her lungs out for help.