Erotic
by Karen Goldrick
She picks up the flaccid penis and rolls it firmly between her palms. Soft pale play-doh. Smaller than most. She pinches it with her nails and the owner growls. Fear. Anger. Ecstasy. She gives it a squeeze. No lubrication. Rough. Friction. Until finally it responds. She can feel the tremor of vessels filling with blood.
Five minutes to go. A rough shove and he is back on the bed, She tries to remember his face. A beard? Grey hairs? It is cold and she is tight. Some pain as it finds its way in. No lubrication. Better this way. Judith says so. No pleasure. No feeling. He paid. He can complain. If he dares.
Not long now. He has gripped her hips and she tilts her back, looking at but not seeing the window. He is gripped by the drive and shuffles faster. But she is dry and he becomes frustrated. So she covers his mouth and nose. Not too hard. Enough to startle. To confuse. He pauses. She puts gentle pressure on his trachea. Almost in the dark she can see the whites of his eyes. He struggles. Wheezes. Comes. She lets go.
“Time’s up.”
She climbs off the bed and dresses before he can argue. Slowly the sounds come back. Music. Somewhere a band. Too much base and drum.
Shouting below. A car starts. A soft murmur outside in the corridor.
He leaves. $100. A tip.
She struggles into her skirt. Getting tight. The zipper catches the vinyl. Her feet are tired, but she needs more. Tomorrow is payday.
It’s cold outside and she rubs her arms as she walks. Her nipples catch the tight shirt and beckon a group of boys. Young. Drunk. Probably virgins.
“Hey you guys.”
“Hey yourself.”
“Have any of you seen Judith?”
“Who?” Laughter and sniggering and not-so-gentle shove and push. Private school. Wealthy.
“You probably don’t know her. She wouldn’t be seen with guys like you.”
One is taller. Brown skin. Good looking.
No says Judith. No good looks.
“Can I have some of your beer?”
“Sure.” He hands it over. More shove and don’t catch anything, JJ.
JJ ... J for what ...?
Whispering. Go on ... go on. And then the others leave. Scratch themselves. Duck up the stairs of Wet and Slippery.
There is a short cut through the park. Judith has warned against it. But tonight she feels safe. JJ follows. Late night dew has made the grass wet and her sandals are treacherous.
“Wait. Slow down.”
She stops in the middle of the park. There are no lights. The distance has swallowed the noise. She remembers he has a red jumper. Now it is brown- purple-grey. Judith would want her to go on. There used to be stars. Now there are none.
He is close now. She can smell his breath. Nice. Despite the beer. He gives her his jumper.
No says Judith, but she puts it on. There is plenty of time. He has money.
He wipes the wet off a seat and sits, but she cannot. Her feet fidget from side to side. I want a cigarette I want a cigarette I want ... A thin layer of cloud blurs the moon. Colder. A shiver from the small of her back won’t go away. She rubs her hands together and blows on them.
Then his hands are around hers. Large. Warm. Young calluses. She tries to pull back but he doesn’t let go. Her legs stop their dance.
She will not look in his eyes, and the ground can’t hold her attention. The jumper and his hands. Novel comforts. Judith will push them back but she is stronger, for now. She sits, and he moves over for her.
Her hands are warm now, and he uncovers them.But his fingertips remain. Soft. Gently flattening hers.The smallest of tremors. Wavering. Floating. Her fingers at once drawn into his, and pushed away.
She still will not look to his eyes. She can’t remember exactly what he looks like. She wants to grab his arms and feel his chest, his lips. She wants to let go and run away. She holds her breath and holds the instant. She can’t have this. Yes she can.
NO you can’t says Judith, and she pulls away.
“I’d better get going.”
No no no no ...
“ Would you like to come back? Coffee? A drink?”
“ Sorry. I’ve got to play tomorrow ... today I mean.”
Play what? Football. The clarinet. A game of chess. He’s holding out a fifty. But she won’t take it.
Take it.
No.
And she won’t look in his eyes.
And he won’t see her stupid tears.
He leaves it on the seat and walks off. Tall. Clumsy. Back to the noise and light. His friends are waiting.
She huddles into his jumper. Feeling his scent.Trying to remember his touch.
She gives him time to get in a cab, rolls up the fifty, and heads back.