“You must have been just a kid.”
“I wasn't much more than that. I was part of a show he hired for one of his parties, and his boys put the boots to me in one of the bedrooms. I was so damned scared I was afraid to say anything about it. I'd like to see them try it now.”
“And you hadn't been jazzed before?”
“Sure I'd been jazzed before, but not the way they did it. I guess it must have been their idea of fun.”
“Anyway you're good cunt,” I said. “Look at what you've done to my prick.”
I took my cock out of her and showed it to her, and she said she liked to look at it, but she liked to be jazzed better. I speared her again, and I had just started to jazz her when I shot. Patty felt the jism in her cunt, I suppose, and she couldn't have helped feeling the throbs, and she socked it in as far as she could make it go and then wiggled her ass. I held on, and I fucked her until I just couldn't fuck any longer, and just at the last minute she came.
I was sweating when it was over, and so was Patty. Her skin was shiny and between her legs was really wet. She asked me if I wanted to jazz her again, and I did, but I thought I ought to get back to my place and see if the check I was expecting had come and if Ruth was still there or moved someplace else by now, and I said I had some things to do. Patty said to call her up any time I wanted another jazzing, and I said I would and the next time we'd see how good she was at a couple of other things, and I went downstairs where Paul was still sleeping and I got my records and went out.
I felt pretty good on the way back to the place, except that the sherry had left a slight headache, but when I got there I didn't feel so good any more, because Toby was going out of my place just as I arrived. I didn't ask him to come back in, and I didn't spend any time talking to him.
“What the hell was he doing here?” I asked Ruth. “I don't like that bastard coming here.”
“He had a letter for me. From my father. That's important enough for him to come here, isn't it?”
“I don't care what it is; I don't like him around. What about the letter?”
“I haven't opened it yet. What will you bet? What will you offer me for it?”
“If there's one for me I'll trade even.”
Ruth wouldn't trade, so I took the letter that had come for me and she took hers and we sat on the couch to open them. I knew what was in mine, but I wanted to be sure that it was right, so I took it out and waved it under Ruth's nose.
“I should have traded,” she said.
But when she opened her letter it was a check for four hundred and fifty dollars. That made seven and a quarter; not bad for a morning's mail.
“We're rich,” Ruth said. “We're filthy rich! What are we going to do with it all?”
“You'd better read the letter. Maybe there's a catch to it.”
Ruth had never seen her father. There wasn't really any way of knowing that the checks that sometimes came were from her father and not from some nice old man who had taken her name from the telephone book and decided to pretend he was her father. When her mother was alive she had never heard from him, and everyone had assumed that he had died sometime after he got tired of being married and left the family. But about a year after her mother had died the first of the letters had come, and there was a check in it for two hundred dollars, and the letters had come more or less frequently after that. Sometimes there would be a check for fifty dollars in it, and they had run as high as five hundred. The letters seldom came from the same place twice, and it was never clear just what business the man was supposed to be in. He was forever writing that in a few months he hoped to be able to see her, but he never showed up, and Ruth had come to take the whole thing more or less for granted. She didn't mind having a little mystery in her life; especially when it was such a profitable mystery.
“He says he's coming to visit me,” Ruth said when she finished the letter.
“We've heard that one before. What are we going to do with the money?”
“We could get drunk.”
“You can't get that drunk.”
“We could rent a place in the country and rest.”
“Oh god, no! I tried that once. It's all snakes and mosquitoes and spiders.”
We talked about what we were going to do with the money, and I decided that the first thing I was going to do was to take fifty dollars and go and buy some of the books I wanted. Ruth wanted to go out to the bank with me, but she had to dress first, so I went in the bedroom and watched her change her clothes.
“What did you do this morning?” Ruth asked.
“I met a friend of mine when I was coming back from Toby's. We bought these records and then I went home with him and laid his sister.”
“That must have been fun. Did he lay her too?”
“Not while I was there. He fell asleep. I don't believe she was his full sister, anyway, so he probably lays her when he gets a chance.”
“Wouldn't he jazz her if she was his full sister? Is it less incestuous the way it is?”
“I don't believe he bothers to think about that. He never mentioned it.”
“He must be a very good friend if he takes you home to give you his sister. Don't I know him at all?'
“I haven't seen him in a long time, and we didn't go there to see the girl. We went there to play some records, and the rest was accidental.”
“Incidental, with you. Was she very pretty?”
“She was prettier after she'd been laid. She was brown. She was brown all over.”
“Is that a joke? If it is I don't understand it very well, I'm afraid.”
Ruth had all of her clothes off, and she walked across the room and slid down on the floor in front of me.
“Let me see your cock,” she said.
“It's just the same as it was this morning.”
“Show me your cock, you bastard.”
She pulled at the front of my pants.
“If you don't get up off your knees I'll do more than show it to you. I'll stuff it down your throat,” I said.
“I've gone down on better men than you.”
“You've sucked off a bunch of fairies. I don't know any other girl who has done that. How many of his friends did Toby make you French?”
“I didn't keep track of that. I don't have a dirty mind like you have. Did your little black girl go down on you this morning?”
“She was brown, not black.”
“She didn't do it after you jazzed her, anyway. I can smell her cunt all over you. Your cock reeks of it.”
She had my prick in her hands and she was sniffing it and touching the end of it with her tongue and making faces when she tasted it.
“You're not going to let a little cunt taste bother you, are you?” I said. “Not when you're always so anxious to get my heat under your ass. If you had a good dose of cunt some time you wouldn't be so squeamish about finding it on a prick.”
“It's always on your prick. You taste of cunt more often than anybody I ever sucked off.”
“I think you really like it when it tastes like that, or you wouldn't talk so much about it. Why don't you get a girl and French her? You haven't tried that yet.”
“I'll suck your god damned cock!” she said.
She stuck it into her mouth and pulled on it. She sucked it so hard that the end of it hurt. Then she held it in her fist and licked it and jerked me off and rubbed the end of it on her mouth.
“Maybe I will get a girl and go down on her,” she said. “Why not? Why don't you take me to see that girl this afternoon? She tastes good. She tastes better than a lot of other cunts your prick has been in. Her brother could jazz me too. That's another thing I haven't tried; I haven't been laid by a black man. I'll tell you something else, too. If you had come home fifteen minutes earlier you'd have found me trying to suck off Toby again! He couldn't even get a hard on, but I wanted to suck off somebody, and I Frenched him anyway, and I offered to suck his ass-”
I stuck it into her mouth again to keep her from talking, because I didn't want to hear anymore about Toby. I
