Part 14 (2/2)

”Guess what?” I said to Del when I came in the door. It took me only a second to see what was going on, though, and I didn't say anything about the dog after that.

Del was well into a case of Yuengling, and he had a full bottle of vodka on the coffee table as well.

”What?” he said. ”What's the news?”

”Nothing, really. What's going on with you?”

”I'm having a couple drinks.”

”I see. How come?”

”Should I open one for you?” he said, taking up one of the beers. It was his way of being polite: opening a bottle or can and then pa.s.sing it to me.

”Sure,” I said. ”How come you're drinking, though?” I asked the question in my careful, cheerful voice, the one I used when Del was drinking, so it would sound like I wasn't accusing but was just being his honest-to-G.o.d, why-don't-you-tell-me-the-truth friend.

”I needed a break.”

”Did you go to work?”

”Called in. Told them I was sick.”

”Well, that happens,” I said. ”What did you need a break from?”

He kind of rolled his head off to one side and said, ”All this G.o.dd.a.m.n treatment s.h.i.+t. I'm sick of it. And I'm sick of that G.o.dd.a.m.n church s.h.i.+t. h.e.l.l, you might as well be in h.e.l.l, the way they want you to live.”

He sat quiet after that, staring off into s.p.a.ce, and I didn't say anything. I also didn't say anything when he went for the vodka and cracked the seal on it. I didn't know what to say anyway. What was going to happen was going to happen.

After he pulled down three or four mouthfuls straight from the bottle, I said, ”Hey, why don't you save some of that for me.”

He stopped slugging and pa.s.sed the bottle over to me.

And I did take a swallow. Then I stood up and picked up the bottle to take into the kitchen with me. I said, ”Want some dinner?”

”I want some p.u.s.s.y.”

”Did you eat all day?”

”I'll eat you.”

I put the vodka in the broom closet where he would not think to look for it. When I went back into the living room I sat beside Del and kissed him because it was easier than talking. I knew the routine.

”Take off your clothes,” he said. ”Get out those t.i.ts.”

”Do you want to go upstairs and lie down?”

”I want to f.u.c.k your c.u.n.t right here.”

While I was standing beside the sofa getting undressed, and while he was sitting on the sofa with his c.o.c.k in his hand, waiting for me, I kept thinking something would happen that would change everything. But nothing happened. I went on taking off my clothes, and he went on holding his erection.

”I stink,” I said.

”I want to f.u.c.k you, not smell you.”

”Okay,” I said. ”If you don't want to wait for me to shower.”

”I don't want to wait.”

I was just climbing onto him on the sofa when he said, ”And I threw out your f.u.c.king pills.”

I stopped for one second, then I just went on lowering myself onto him.

”So I guess you think you're going to knock me up,” I said.

”I'm going to f.u.c.k you up right now.”

I didn't bother to tell him that it would take a while before the pill got out of my system, that some women had to wait a couple months before their bodies got back to normal. If he didn't know that, it was his problem.

”If I waited for you to get rid of them, I'd be waiting forever.”

He told me then that I wouldn't find them in the trash either, so there was no point in looking.

After we f.u.c.ked for a while, Del pulled out of me so he could put some spit on his c.o.c.k. I guess I was dry. Before he got back inside, he grabbed me between my legs and squeezed.

”I want you to shave your p.u.s.s.y, too,” he said.

When I didn't say anything, he said, ”I want you to shave your p.u.s.s.y bald for me.”

I thought of saying no or getting up from the sofa or pus.h.i.+ng him away, but it was easier to stay there.

”Sure,” I said. ”Tomorrow.”

”I been wanting that awhile,” he said. ”I want to f.u.c.k a bald p.u.s.s.y.”

”Are you going to f.u.c.k me now?” I asked.

”Do you want to get your p.u.s.s.y f.u.c.ked?”

”Sure,” I said. ”Go ahead.”

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