until licensed by an urgent request. Then she is a hooligan, all
fuck and balls.
*
She is slightly more reserved with men. When a man fucks me,
she says, I am with him, fucking me. The men ride her like
maniacs. Her eyes roll back but stay open and she grins. She is
always them fucking her, no matter how intensely they ride.
Me I get fucked but she is different, always just slightly outside
and on top: being him, fucking her. The men are ignorant and
entranced.
*
She dresses like a glittering boy, a tough, gorgeous boy.
She is Garbo in
druggy, leaner and tougher: more used: slightly smelling of
decay and death, touched by the smell of the heat and the
smell of the piss and the smell of the men: but untouched
underneath by any human lust not her own.
*
She is ardent and intense, entirely charming, a grimy prince of
the streets, tough and fast: destitute and aloof, drawn to the
needle: edging toward the needle: but she fucks instead most of
the time: she likes the needle though: you can see it in her eyes,
all glazed over: she stops grinning and her lips get thick with
sensuality and dirty with greed: she loses her courtesy: she is
finally taken over: the needle is not her fucking her: it is something outside her fucking her: and she dissolves, finally. I could lose her to this. I never think about losing her or having her,
except around the needle. It is the only thing I am afraid of. I
would do anything for her. I want to shoot up with her: her do
it to me, tie the rubber thing, heat the spoon, fill the needle,
find the vein, shoot it up. She demurs politely. She keeps away
from it: except sometimes: she does not draw me in. She does
it away from me: with other lovers: now and then: glassy-eyed
and elated: not aloof but ecstatic: sated: when no one could
even see, from day to day, that she had been hungry.
Or I couldn’t see.
Or she wasn’t: the needle just gutted her with pleasure: so
afterward, in retrospect, one inferred that there had been a
lack, a need, before the needle: but in fact she had been complete before and now was simply drenched in something extra: 47
something exquisite, heavy and thick like some distilled perfume, sweet to the point of sickness, a nauseating sweetness: something transporting and divine: something that translated
into eyelids weighed down and swollen, lips puffed up, the
cracks in them spreading down, the body suddenly soft and
pliant, ready to curl, to billow, to fold: a fragile body, delicate
bones suddenly soft, eyes hiding behind lush eyelids: the hard
tension of her hips dissolved, finally. The way other women
look when they’ve been fucked hard and long, coming and
coming, is how she looked: the way other women look fucked
out, creamy and swollen, is how she looked. The needle gave
