"No, dear, I haven't had the opportunity of giving you a thorough examination as yet. Remember?" Allison purred.
"We'll make an appointment then for you to give me a physical. You'll have to show me your credentials first, though."
"Will references do?" she asked insinuatingly.
"Not unless I can establish that they're from experts in the field," I said.
"Bitch!" Allison laughed tightly. "It's so good to talk to you again, Sloane. I've missed you."
"Yes... well, I've got to get off the phone now. I've got company."
"The young man I met?"
"Yes."
Silence. Then, "I'd like to talk to you. Could we have dinner tomorrow?"
"I guess so. I could see you for a little while."
"I'll pick you up at your office at six," Allison said.
"See you then." We hung up.
"Beautiful, darling, simply beautiful," Sylvan crowed.
"Did I handle it all right?"
"Superbly. Utterly, utterly divine. You were magnificent. Couldn't have done better myself and I've handled some bitches in my time, I tell you."
I made a bed for Sylvan on the couch. He refused my offer of pajamas.
"I like to sleep in the raw," he said. "It makes me feel so earthy."
Remind me never to get drunk with you again, son, I thought. I don't go for the role playing bit. We're men and women no matter if we like the same sex or not. That's the reason I can't stand transvestites. I like women and women who look like women.
I got into bed and called out a good night to Sylvan. A thoroughly masculine snore came in answer.
CHAPTER 7
Lorraine called soon after I reached the office.
"I know this is silly," she began, "but I went to bed with someone new last night and I want to know if I should feel guilty or not?"
"Of course not. I didn't expect you to sit by the telephone waiting for me to call," I said.
"I sort of figured that. Took me a while to catch on but after I hadn't heard from you in three weeks, I thought you'd found a new interest. Everything all right with you?" Lorraine asked.
"Couldn't be better."
"You're sure you're not mad?"
"Not at all. I hope she's a nice girl," I said.
"Friends?"
"Friends."
"Fine. Call me some time. We'll have a nice Platonic drink together," she said.
"Sure. No law against your calling me too." We hung up.
Nice girl that Lorraine. Breaks clean and good in a clinch.
The morning was pretty dull. I drew doodles and fantasized.
Happy came in after lunch. He called Sylvan and started bugging him about getting the prints of the pilot ready. I felt sorry for Sylvan. He had a bad hangover and Happy's screaming probably wasn't doing him much good.
Judy and I had one of our rare long conversations. We seldom had time to talk much.
Judy's conversations with me consisted mainly of anecdotes about Happy. She adored the guy but she wasn't in love with him. Her attitude was more like that of a mother toward an erring but irresistible son.
Nothing much else happened during the afternoon so when I left at six I was still full of energy.
Allison was waiting for me in the lobby. She hooked a finger through one of mine and smiled deep into my eyes. She was really laying it on.
We went to a midtown Spanish restaurant for dinner. Allison ordered cocktails for us and then got down to the project at hand.
"I've wanted to see you before this but I was too upset," she began timidly.
"That didn't seem to stand in the way of your seeing Amy Ferguson," I said.
"That was different. She's like a mother to me."
"Sweetie," I said, "if you had had Amy Ferguson for a mother you wouldn't be here now. You'd either be in a happy house or still breast feeding, with a few other little chores thrown in."
"You've got Amy all wrong. She's not like that at all!" Allison retorted.
"Come off it, Allison. I know that Amy's after you. What I want to know is, did she succeed?"
"Amy goes for me," Allison admitted. "I won't deny that. But she won't do anything about it. She just likes to have young girls around her. Chris Salem is the only one she really loves. Besides, she couldn't risk ruining her reputation by taking up with someone like me. Instead she just surrounds herself with young women at little gatherings in her apartment. Chris is always there. She understands how Amy feels now that she's growing older and losing her looks. Having young girls around makes Amy feel young. You should see those parties. It looks like Saturday night at the Harbor."
Allison's story sounded logical. Could be that I had been getting steamed up about nothing?
"How are you feeling about me now?" I asked.
"Exactly as I felt before. You know what I want, Sloane. I'm after a relationship that will last."
"How can I guarantee that? I can't marry you. Do you want me to sign a contract?"
"There's no need to be sarcastic," Allison retorted softly. "It's just a question of your deciding that I'm what you want. I won't share you with anyone else. I don't want to start an affair with you until I'm sure that you won't leave me in a few weeks. Or a few months or years, for that matter."
I let the topic drop. This was no time for me to make promises that I wasn't sure I'd keep.
After dinner we went to the gay bar in Allison's neighborhood.
We danced. It felt awfully good to hold her in my arms again. She was wearing a heavy sexy perfume in her hair that made my head feel light.
She had lost weight. I thought of how I would fatten her up after I had taken care of more pressing matters. I had to laugh at myself. I was thinking like that butch, Dinah. I was going to take care of my woman.
Allison poured it on while we were dancing. She held me close and fitted her body snugly against mine. I felt the urgency growing in me but I kept on dancing.
Lord, how I longed to have her alone. To have her get rid of all those clothes and lie naked in my arms. I wanted to press my lips to hers and drink deep of the sweetness that was Allison. It was a pleasure that was so poignant it was almost painful to think of her responding to my caresses, laughing the soft laugh of ecstasy.
The record came to the end and the jukebox was silent. We left the dance floor and went back to our table.
"It's 11:30," Allison said. "We should leave soon. Have you come to a decision? Are you staying with me tonight?"
"If you knew how much I want to, you'd know how difficult it is for me to say this," I replied. "I'm ready to accept your conditions. But I will not have you calling all the shots. You've been manipulating me ever since we met. You've been both referee and player in this game. That doesn't seem very fair to me."
I paused to light cigarettes for both of us. Allison took hers simply, without her usual coquettishness. Her face was set and serious. From what I could see, she was really listening to me and trying to understand.
"I admit that I've done a lot of manipulating in the past myself," I continued. "I thought I was one hell of a kid when women let me boss them around. But those were relationships based on sand and they washed away with the tide.
"I want our relationship to be different. I think we're both after the same things but we're going to have to work to get them. One of the things we'll both have to do is recognize that we're both adults capable of taking on responsibilities. Neither of us is going to make decisions for the other."
I got up and put my coat on. "Come on, I'll walk you home."
On the way home I told Allison that I wasn't going to stay with her that night. "I hope and pray that we'll get together soon. But that decision is up to you as much as me. Let's see if we can decide by the weekend. In the meantime, we can see each other every night if you want. At least that way I'll be sure that you're not with Amy."
I left Allison at her door and took the crosstown bus home. I was being so practical I could hardly sta
nd myself.
The next night Allison and I went out with Sylvan. It was obvious that they liked each other. I was pleased but a little annoyed because they paid more attention to each other than to me.
The following night Allison and I went to the movies. The night after that we spent alone in our separate apartments. Partly because my finances were beginning to reach a point of utter absurdity and partly because we both needed the rest.
The next day was Friday. We arranged to meet in the Village for dinner.
* * *
Friday morning I arrived at the office bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to be met by a frantic Amy Ferguson.
She insisted that I call Happy and get him down to the office even if it meant getting him out of bed.
Happy arrived thirty minutes later. He hadn't had time to shave so he used an electric shaver while he talked to Amy. I could barely hear their conversation above the noise of the shaver but I made out enough to know that we were in trouble.
Amy had found out that the network Sales Department was pushing a situation comedy series starring Laurie Newson, Amy's chief contender for the title of suburban pied-piper. Newson was more popular on the West Coast and Amy was afraid that sponsors would grab her show if they heard about it before they were shown Amy's pilot.
That meant that Happy would have to push the show himself. I spent the morning making appointments for him with agency brass. I lined up appointments for him at all the major advertising agencies in town.
I called Sylvan for Happy and told him about the new situation. Happy would need five or more extra prints of the pilot. It meant more work for Sylvan but also more money. He promised to deliver the prints within the week.
Happy left the office. He told me that he could be reached at the Plaza barbershop for the next hour and then would be back. Happy always went to the barbershop when he had a knotty problem to figure out. After two or three hours of sun lamp treatments, massages, and facial treatments his mind was clearer. I was sure this problem would take him longer than an hour to solve.
CHAPTER 8
I left the office at six and took a cab down to the Village restaurant where I was to meet Allison.
Just inside the door of the restaurant there was a large mirror. I stopped to check myself over. It had been a rough day and I was worn out. But not where it counted. You know what I mean, I was tired on the surface but deep within me something was racing wildly. My body ached with end of the day fatigue but I wanted to run and dance and shout because soon I would be with Allison. Perhaps tonight would be the night when all that I had had to keep corked up within me could be let go. Maybe tonight I could show Allison how much I loved her.
The mirror gave back a pleasing reflection. My suit fitted well and the jersey blouse I was wearing was doing deliciously indecent things for my figure. My eyes were shining with excitement. The extra special care I had taken with my make-up was worth it. It would take a very strong light to show that I had mascara, eye-liner, eye shadow and eyebrow pencil on. The shading looked natural. I smiled my pleasure back at my reflection. I looked good and I felt good.
"I thoroughly agree. You look wonderful tonight, darling."
I blushed. Allison had been standing beside me, out of the range of the mirror, watching me admiring myself.
We found a table and ordered dinner. I told Allison about the day's happenings in the office and she told me what she had been doing. She had auditioned for a part on the Phil Singer Show.
"But that show's moving out to California next month," I said.
"I know. They auditioned me for the part a girl who has to stay in New York had."
I felt as if something were choking me from the inside. "Will you go to California with the show if you get the part?"
"I'd be a fool not to," Allison said. "It would be a great opportunity for me. There's no real reason for me to stay here. I could live as easily on the West Coast. Besides, I could probably get a lot more work out there. Most television work is being done on the Coast these days."
"I know. I... I'll miss you," I stammered.
"I was thinking about that. Sloane, please don't think I'm trying to direct your life. I thought it over and if I move to California I'd like you to come with me. You could probably get a better job there. Your experience in the Broadman Office will help you. They need experienced people on the production end. Besides, what you really want to do is write and you can do that out there as well as here."
"It's an idea. I'll think it over."
"No need to come to a decision now. I don't even know if I've got the part yet," Allison said.
We finished dinner and walked the three blocks to the Harbor to have our liqueur there.
It was still early enough so the place wasn't impossibly crowded but the Friday night crowd was beginning to arrive. We took the last available table. In another hour there would be women standing five deep at the bar.
We drank our liqueurs and then ordered stronger drinks. It wasn't long before we signalled the waiter for a third round. We were drinking more heavily than usual. Also, conversation was difficult for both of us. Every topic seemed to fall flat and there were many long heavy silences.
I guess the same thing was on both our minds. It was Friday night... D Day. Someone had to take the lead but neither of us was willing to do it because we had set up an impossible situation... whoever spoke first could be accused of dictating to the other. It was ridiculous but we were both too shy to do anything about it.
We didn't dance. The tension between us was so strong that I don't think either of us could have stood the close contact. I looked at Allison sitting across the table from me and I ached to hold her in my arms but I just went on making foolish conversation.
By the time we were on our fifth round of drinks the place was so crowded it looked like bargain day for lesbians: two for $1.98... slight manufacturer's defects that won't affect their serviceability.
The noise was deafening. The jukebox was blaring and everybody was trying to shout above it. Cigarette smoke hung like a cloud in the stale air.
"I can't breathe with all this smoke. Let's get out of here," Allison said.
We paid the check and left. Outside the air was heavy with the poignant sweetness of Spring. It was the sort of night when the lights and sounds of the city seem somehow sad, like a lover who sighs in the midst of his pleasure because he knows it can't last.
Allison breathed deeply. "It's a beautiful night."
"Yes," I said. "I wish we were out in the country though. On nights like this in the Spring you can smell the earth."
"Any place in particular you'd like to be?" she asked, not looking at me.
"Yes. I'd like to be up in the Catskills. Around Woodstock. It's beautiful up there. Particularly at this time of the year."
"Let's go."
"Huh?" I inquired brilliantly.
"We could borrow my room-mate's car. She doesn't have another flight until Tuesday and she won't be using it. I'm sure she'd lend it to us."
"It would be silly to just drive up there and come back," I protested. "It's a three hour drive."
"We could stay at a motel over night... or for the whole week-end, if you'd like," Allison said.
I looked at Allison and in her eyes was the question and the answer. Desire sprang up in me so strong I doubted that I would be able to wait until we reached Woodstock.
"Call your room-mate," I said. My voice had suddenly become lower and husky.
Allison called her room-mate from a drugstore phone booth. It was all right, we could have the car.
We took the subway uptown to save money. I waited on the steps outside her house while Allison went in and got the car keys... I thought it best not to meet her room-mate that night.
The car was a beat-up old red Plymouth convertible. It had seen better days but it still had dash. It was the sort of car a college kid would have jazzed up with a raccoon tail fastened to the antenna.
Allison han
ded me the keys. I was to drive. She handled it as she had indicated who was to lead when we danced.
I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey and past the sleeping towns where endless neon signs advertised the joys of conspicuous consumption.
There wasn't much traffic on the Thruway. We rode through the rolling countryside without talking. The radio was tuned in on WQXR and the music of Debussy played a soft accompaniment to the lonely hissing of the tires.
I turned off the Thruway at Kingston. There was about ten miles of unlighted road to Woodstock. Black trees hovered protectively over us, shadowy leaves sifted against each other in the night wind.
As we drove up the hill toward Woodstock, the lights of the Red Lion Inn came in view.
"What about staying there?" I asked. "I've stayed at the Red Lion before and they've got nice clean rooms for not too much money."
"Fine," Allison said.
I parked the car in the parking lot between the restaurant and the Inn. I shut off the motor, the radio, and the lights. The sudden silence was startling.
"There doesn't seem to be anyone around," Allison said. "I wonder if everybody's asleep already?"
"No. I know the proprietress. She never goes to bed before dawn. She's quite a woman. I think you'll like her. She's a wonderfully alive, warm Rumanian. I think she's a little bit mad but delightful."
"Aren't all Rumanians? Mad, I mean," Allison asked.
"You're thinking of Hungarians."
We got out of the car and stumbled in the dark to the back door of the restaurant. It was unlocked so we walked in to the bar.
Theresa Golovin was sitting on a stool at the bar listening to flamenco music from the jukebox. She kept the jukebox stocked with the kind of records she liked and to hell with the customers if they didn't like it.
I introduced Allison to Theresa. Theresa asked us to wait until the record was over and then she'd show us to our rooms.
When the record was finished, Theresa took us to the Inn.
"I've got a big room available. Big enough for both of you. No need to pay for two rooms. Eh?"
I don't know if Theresa was being politic or if she really suggested a double room to save us money. Anyway, we agreed that it would be silly to pay for two rooms and took the big one.
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