The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

Maybe I wasn’t watching.

Watching?

She says you acted – I dunno. You didn’t seem all that angry; or hurt; I wasn’t sure if you cared or not.

I say no I guess I didn’t show it; I never do; I should have; I think I could have; if I had set my mind on it.

She says I didn’t know you were mad at me.

I say well not real mad.

Good.

I didn’t understand, that’s all.

She says there’s nothing really to understand.

I drink.

She says maybe I was afraid.

Afraid?

She says you used to make me nervous.

I say I don’t know what nervous is.

She says I think you still do.

What?

Make me nervous.

What?

She laughs and takes the wine bottle from me and says just kidding.

I hope so.

Don’t look at me like you’re hurt.

Maybe I am.

She drinks some wine and says are you?

Sure.

She says well oh well a lot of men make me nervous you know what I mean?

A lot of men?

Men in general.

General men?

She says you don’t make me nervous anymore.

No?

Nope. Awww contrary… she smiles and drinks wine and I light another cig and she looks around her room and she says to me I don’t know why I feel that way; I mean about men. Most of my friends have been men. Are men. Boys, men, guys, you know. The opposite sex and stuff. I’ve never really had any girlfriends, any close women friends. Female bonding! I don’t think I have ever been able to identify with women. Other ladies. Girls. They’re all strangers to me. Don’t have anything to do with them, except for a few obvious parts.

She adds to this by saying I’ll never make it as a feminist, Mike.

I say to her but you were telling me about your roommate.

She says Cynthia, yes, we met at work.

I say I thought you said school.

She says school, work – the job I had on campus; the campus work.

I nod.

She says we are pretty good friends. Much more than just roommates. We talk; we even talk about men.

I say well there you go: female bonding.

She says I was telling you about that bar Cynthia and I went to last week? was I saying that? was I telling you that?

I think so.

She says the same bar we went to six months ago.

I say well we’ve been to a lot of bars.

She says it was that 50s revival bar; all the guys in there looked like James Dean.

Yeah; okay.

She gives me back the bottle and says I went there last week but it has changed style, has changed clientele; it’s turned into a gay bar. Not discriminatory: men and women. We didn’t know this at first; we just went in. I wondered what happened to all the James Deans. Anyway, Cynthia and me were sitting and drinking some beers and we started to play some pool, just minding our own beeswax, when this drunk woman, in her late forties or so, comes up to us and she starts talking to us and her hair’s really dirty and she kinda stinks, she has on this funky dress and ratty old coat, and she smells like vodka or something, and she just stands there watching us and she says real loud-like I’m a dyke and I’m proud of it! I wanted her to go away. Cynthia gives me a funny look and this lady says wanna go have some reeeeealll fun, honey? So I tell her well I’m not your type and she says not my type and I go no and she goes don’t you lie to me I know a bitch dyke when I see one and I can tell that your sweet mouth has been muff-diving aplenty.

I say you’re messing with me. I say that didn’t really happen did it?

She says it did! Kathy says to me this is what she said I swear to you! I told her to please just go away please and leave us be we’re trying to play some pool here and this lesbian old drunk says to me I know what you do with your friend here; I know what you do with her in secret behind closed doors! I told her to die and go to hell and she just laughs at me and goes you think it’s all a dream but one day you’re gonna wake up, sweetie. That’s what she said, honest Injun.

I say weird.

She says I’m never going back to that bar again.

I hold out the bottle to her and ask if she wants more.

She says I think I’ve had enough to drink tonight.

I say so well that lez made a move on you – it’s just like that one time -

What time? Oh, at the club?

Yeah.

Kathy says I remember that now. We were dancing. It was late but we’d been doing coke. I was feeling very very good, this I do recall. Cocaine always makes me feel good. You went into the bathroom. This girl came up to me. She was wearing a polka-dotted dress. She comes up to me and says hi my friends and I were wondering and she points to the corner of the club where there’s these two other girls, looking over at us, and they were also wearing dresses with polka dots, and she says to me, she says we were wondering: are you gay or bi? and when I told her I was straight, quite straight, she just laughed like she didn’t believe me or something. Now that was weird too.

I say it is.

She says why do some people think I’m gay? I don’t understand this. I don’t look like a lesbian, do I?

I say I dunno.

She says I’m not.

I sit up from the bed.

She says I know I am not.

I am naked and standing up.

She says I’m not.

I say are you sure?

I should know!

I say have you ever had an experience? with another female?

She says have you ever had that kind of experience?

I walk about her room and I talk, I say to her look, here is your bedroom window; this is your window; you look out your window and you see things; you see outside; you see things outside; the things you see: you can hear them but they cannot hear you; you strain for certain thoughts; these thoughts elude you, these thoughts you thought you thought; your notions ask do you know me? And here is your desk, your small desk, the desk you have had since you were a child. A desk of memories. Who can say what used