She’s
going
to come, and so...
so...
so...
Freddie, I can’t wait. Don’t make me wait.
She’s coming, Freddie.
She’s coming.
FREDDIE!: Oh yeah,
oh yeah,
oh yeah...
TIFFANY: Here it comes, Freddie,
here it comes, Freddie.
Ohhh, Freddie,
obhh, Freddie.
Ohhh,
ohhh,
Freddie...
Freddie...
Freddie . . . Freddie, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie...
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Oh, Oh, Oh.. . AHHHH Freddie cried out with her, a pinched, tight squeal,
caught in the constrictions of his throat, and ending in a whimpering sigh.
Pause.
The tape was quiet except for the sounds of their laboured breathing and an occasional sigh.
TIFFANY: Jesus, that was good.
It was really good. How about you Freddie? How was it for you?
Pause.
TIFFANY: Freddie?
More heavy breathing.
FREDDIE: (Groans) Oh, God.
TIFFANY: Tell me about it, Freddie. I could get off again, you know that, if you just tell me how it was.
Still no answer.
TIFFANY: Freddie?
FREDDIE: Uhhh...
TIFFANY: You know what I’d like? I’d like you to be here right now. Deep inside me. Make me feel like a woman again. Can you do that?
Can you get me off, Freddie?
FREDDIE: I w-w-want to t-t-try.
TIFFANY: Great. Because it’s building again, Freddie. All for you.
Friscoe switched the tape recorder off. ‘Well, enough of that,’ he said, ‘the rest is X-rated.’
Sharky sat in stony silence, staring at the machine. He was repulsed, yet strangely turned on by the intensity of the woman’s performance and by the eroticism of the phone conversation. He was embarrassed, but he shielded his feelings.
‘If that Freddie has any problems, that’s pretty good therapy,’ Arch Livingston said. ‘Look at Sharky, he’s struck speechless. Bet you never heard anything like that before, did you, speedy?’
Sharky shook his head.
Friscoe was laughing. ‘Little dirty tricks there, Sharky,’ he said. ‘That one there, that’s an odd-ball situation. Tell you the truth, I’d like to get a look at old Freaky Freddie. He’s the kind, sounds like he gives freaks a bad name. It’s what we call an ear job, A hunnerd-and-a-half ear job. Normally, see, what happens this Neil — he’s the pimp, okay? — he lines up the johns, makes the deal, then calls the girl. It’s strictly a one-way street, from the john to old pimpo deluxo to the hooker. She never calls Neil or the John. I don’t even think she knows his phone number. And neither do we yet. Anyway, it’s a very cautious set-up. Probably the neatest phone-and-fuck operation I’ve ever run into.’
Friscoe ran the tape forward; its garbled squeal filled the room. He stopped several times, seeking a particular take.
