Down in the Zero

'Because she lets other people tell her what to do?'

'You can't be that stupid,' she snapped at me. 'I'm talking about your mind, not your body. Sex is different.'

'Sex is only with your body?'

'What do you think it's with?'

'It's got to be with your mind. Otherwise, you could do a better job by yourself, right? Once your eyes are closed, once it's dark…how could you tell the difference?'

'Maybe there is no difference.'

'Maybe not. But you have to throw the switch first.'

She gave me a long look. 'You scare me sometimes,' she whispered.

'And you like that too, don't you?'

'Yes.'

I piloted the Lexus back the way we came, not asking for directions, seeing if I could retrace my steps alone if I had to. Fancy wasn't talking, looking out her window, drumming her fingernails on the console between us.

'None of the books had been read?' I asked her. 'In that whole huge library?'

'Oh sure, a lot of them. On a separate shelf. Like they were for separate people. Old books, you could tell somebody really loved them. And I'll bet my sweet ass it wasn't her.'

'All that time alone, and that's what you found out?'

'Well, yes. It's a real clue to her character.'

'Big fucking deal.'

'Well, it could be. Did she offer you sex?'

'Kind of.'

'That sow. If she ever climbed out of that girdle she calls an outfit, she'd flop around like a fish.'

'Don't worry about it.'

'I'd like to whip her fat ass. That'd be fun, but there's no market for it.'

'What about— ?'

'Nobody wants to see fat people being disciplined. They have to look good. And young.

'I guess you'd know.'

'I'm a pro,' Fancy said, turning her head so she could watch me.

'What can I get you?' she asked over her shoulder, crossing the threshold to her house.

'A glass of water.'

'That's all?'

'Yeah. I don't have much time.'

She moved off. I closed my eyes, playing the tapes of my conversations with the parents, mentally engraving the notes I hadn't taken. My eyes were still closed when I heard the click of high heels on the hardwood floor, quick and close together, thinking: Either a short woman or a real tight skirt. It was both. Fancy, in a French maid's outfit right out of a porno movie. She had a glass of water on a wood serving board. She bent down, holding the serving board in both hands, just the trace of a smile on her lips.

'I always wanted to try this on,' she said. 'You like it?'

'It's very pretty.'

'Pretty? I'm pretty— this is sexy.

'That's true.'

'Wouldn't you like a maid of your own?'

'Sometimes…I guess I would.'

'Here's your chance, mister.'

'Not now,' I told her. 'I have to go.

Her gray eyes darkened. Sadness, not anger. 'It's too good to rush–rush,' I told her softly. 'I'll be back.'

'When?'

'Tomorrow.'

'What about tonight?'

'I'm meeting some people. Late.'

'Going back to fuck that sow?'

'What if I was?'

'I could come too. Did you ever— ?'