The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

“No… it’s yours.”

“Huh? Oh.…,” she lay back slowly. “It’s the room my mother doesn’t know I left to go buy my first bra, right?”

“That’s right.” He took off his shirt. He was as skinny as Dale but not a single hair on him, except his armpits. “Just touch them against mine while they’re still little, while it’s still the big day.” He got on top of her, still wearing baggy green army-surplus pants. She couldn’t feel any hard-on, but his hips were far below hers, on the mattress between her knees, so she wouldn’t’ve anyway. He pressed his gaunt chest against hers, his head down against her neck, then without raising his body eased the bra up so her bare breasts were against his chest. He rocked slightly so their nipples brushed back and forth. And he started to tremble. She could feel his heart like a fist on a windowpane, banging to get out. His swaying continued for five or ten minutes.

Leala’s adrenalin buzz was long gone. She checked her watch by raising one arm in the air behind his shoulders.

Then he was easing the bra back over her, with his chest still pressed to hers. “Okay,” he whispered in her ear. “I didn’t hurt you.” He backed up off her and stood beside the bed. “I’ll leave you in your pretty room, with your bears and dolls.” He clicked off the light and retreated toward the door.

“Hey!” Leala sat up. “I would like a doll like one of them. Where could I get one?”

“A doll shop.” He was a shadowy form by the door, putting his shirt on.

“How much would it cost for me to get one?”

“Some of them are as much as $200.”

“I could just get a $50 one, though, couldn’t I?”

He didn’t answer, buttoning his shirt, then he looked up, but she couldn’t really see his eyes. It was too dark.

“A girl should have a doll like that before she gets too old… don’t you think?”

He slowly reached for the door knob. “Too old?”

“Yeah, like… before she’s… say, eighteen... don’t you think?”

He opened the door and a crack of light lay on the floor between him and the bed. “I… guess so.” Then he went out and closed the door.

She lay back on the bed with a suddenly thudding pulse, but not the same thing as the earlier neon lightning bolt of adrenalin. The wave of almost nauseous weakness passed, and she thought about the symptoms Dale described, then she got off the bed. Her clothes were folded on the sofa in the living room with exactly $100 in cash placed on top, a fifty, two twenties, a five and five ones. Maybe he’d forgotten about the two fifties he’d already given her at the start of the session.

December was a slow time for both student photographers and sickos. Leala got her hair cut into a pixie style and used some of her savings for white jeans, a white jean jacket, and several new tank tops. She had her ears pierced and wore just the two pearl studs which came with the piercing. She let Dale pay for the piercing and call it her Christmas present, but he also bought her a corduroy skirt and jacket set that was one size too big, so she exchanged it for a denim mini and peasant-style top with sequins, both from the girls department. Dale said she looked like a baby pop star in Teen Beat magazine.

“That’ll work,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll get some cheap jewelry from a teeny-bopper accessory store.”

“Whadda you mean?”

“Oh… I don’t know… If I want to start a real modeling career, I hafta have an angle, you know? My own shtick.”

“You can’t start a real modeling career just because you get a few new clothes and say you want to be a model.”

“You don’t know anything about it, Dale. I’ve had some gigs. How many gigs have you had lately?”

Dale stared fixedly at the TV screen. It wasn’t even on. He still had hair down to his collar, except where he didn’t have hair at all, and it looked wet even when it wasn’t. The flattened cushions in the chair that had come with the furnished apartment had stains now where his head rested. Sometimes he still tapped a drumstick on the coffee table while he sat there. It seemed the drumstick appeared and disappeared by magic, but she’d found it once, by accident, stashed under the seat cushion.

Leala loaded some celery sticks with peanut butter, wrapped them in a paper towel and placed them on Dale’s lap on her way to the sofa. “Listen, Dale, this is really important.”

“What, that I’m a failure?”

“No, but we are. You know? It’s only been, what, three and a half years. We could just call it one of those things. We’re both young, we could… you know, still be like our ages.”

“Instead of old married farts?”

“Speak for yourself, but I guess that’s the general idea.”

The drumstick appeared, but he didn’t start tapping. He held it up and placed the tip against his lips like a long finger saying Shhhh. “No.”

“No? That’s it, just wo?”

He took a bite of celery then replaced the tip of the drumstick against his mouth while he chewed. It sounded like a horse chewing corn. It sounded kind of nice.

“Dale, it wouldn’t be like we hate each other’s guts and go to court to fight over the car and stereo. And it doesn’t have to be now, we could do it when we’re both ready, when we can both afford it, you know?”

“We can barely afford this shit together.”

“I know, but I’m working on a plan.”

“You mean becoming a famous cover girl by next week?”

“There’s lots of types of modelling, Dale, and I may’ve found my niche, and I can even capitalize on it, expand the potential.”

“Now you sound like a yuppie businessman.” He swallowed what looked like a hard lump.

“I’m just saying I’ve discovered a way to make what I do more lucrative, and when I make enough of a stash, how about I share it with you and we, you know, go our separate ways?”

“What if I want to stay with you?”

He was just sitting there looking down into his lap like an imbecile who watches himself pee, holding a celery stick with globs of peanut butter in one hand and the drumstick in the other.

Leala stayed on the sofa for only a few seconds longer, then went into the bathroom, shook her short hair and watched it all fall into place. For the first time in her life she was glad for the strip of freckles across her nose. She wondered how much colored contact lenses would cost, because some pure green eyes would really complete the package.

Three more jobs popped up right away in January. The first just wanted her feet – feet walking, feet splashing puddles, feet showing over the side of a pick-up truck, feet on gas pedals, feet kicking a ball, feet in high heels. He said he’d done sessions with guys and older people and little kids, and some animals. When he took her out for lunch after the session, she touched his leg with her bare toes under the table, but nothing happened, so the Feet! exhibit he said he was working on must’ve been real. The second wanted her to hang laundry on a line – just white sheets and towels – on a very windy day, wearing a light cotton dress and bare feet, but the photographer was a woman and, as a matter of fact, almost didn’t want Leala at all when she saw her short hair. The third worked out a little better because he said from the start he wanted a nude, but he also made her sign a form promising she was over eighteen. Still, he liked her newly shaved pussy and fucked her afterwards, but only gave her $20 for cab fare when she asked, although she was parked around the corner from his house.

EMILIA COMES IN MY DREAMS by Jindrich Styrsky

Translated by Iris Irwin