Woman Aroused

The Woman Aroused
Ed Lacy
1951
Chapter 1
I'M GEORGE JACKSON.
And this began about the time when you could still remember getting
on the subway for a nickel, people were just starting to worry about the
water shortage, and the current expression making the rounds was,
"How corny can you get?" "How great can one be?" and the like. I
know it sounds insane now, but I remember it because I found the
answer to: How smart can you get? The answer to that one is easy: Too
smart, brother, much too smart for your own good.
I knew it was a Sunday morning when Flo walked out on me, and it
must have been near the first of the month, because we only got
together when I gave her the rent from the house. Flo was (and is) my
ex-wife, and we were as much in love with each other as we could
be--but that wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough--we once split up
arguing as to whether a certain brand of Haitian rum was dark brown or
yellow. But don't think we weren't in love.
That Saturday night we started fighting over a cup of coffee and a
couple of bucks. It was after midnight and we'd seen two crummy
pictures at some 86th Street theatre, if one can call a neighborhood
movie house a theatre. Flo and I were "trying it again"--for a few days
we had been enjoying one of our periodic reunions, complete with
much kissing, tears, and a good deal of genuine love.
It was early Spring, about March, and I remember it was cold and brisk
as we walked down Lexington Avenue. I was trying to remember

which newsstands were open late, so I could buy a Sunday paper. Flo
was dressed in an ankle-length red coat with a high collar that almost
went over her head. She was wearing gold ballerina slippers, and I
think she was hiding her upper lip that night. Flo had nice full lips but
she used lipstick as a disguise, shaping her lips the way she thought
they should be. Sometimes she tried making her mouth larger or
smaller, or blandly forgot her lower lip. That night she was attempting
to make a thin line of her full upper lip. As I was doing my strategic
figuring about the best way home to pass an open newsstand, Flo said,
"I'm hungry and cold. Let's stop for coffee."
"We'll make coffee at home."
"Too much bother," she said, pointing to a coffee pot that didn't look
too clean. "Let's duck in here."
"You're certainly wearing the correct outfit for a greasy spoon."
She gave me a mock bow. "Knew you'd finally appreciate this
coat--took me two days of begging before I could even buy it. If you
like, we can go back to one of the better places on 86th."
We were at 80th Street and I was damned if I'd walk back in all that
cold--not to mention the fact I only had about twenty dollars to last the
week. I said, "I'm broke."
"For a character making a hundred and twenty-five per, not to mention
what you win on the horses, you're always broke. Very odd."
I could have said something nasty about the scatter pins she was
wearing, my "make-up gift," being half a week's salary, but I walked on.
When I looked back, Flo had gone into the dingy coffee pot. I went in,
too.
There was the usual smell of many foods, and the short, swarthy
counterman with tired eyes behind the cash register, reading a morning
paper. At the other end of the counter a shabby old drunk was sipping
coffee. There were no tables so we sat on stools, and Flo's shoes and

horrible coat which she thought were the latest style (and probably
were) looked so out of place, I felt irritated as hell. We ordered two
light coffees and Flo took some cake. She took out cigarettes and gave
me one. We sat there and smoked and she tried to make conversation
by saying what a waste of time movies were these days, but I was too
annoyed to chatter.
The cup looked clean but the coffee was crummy. The drunk suddenly
put a nickel in the juke box--which surprised me as he didn't look as if
he could afford a nickel--and played Old Black Magic--one of Flo's
favorites. She smiled, said, "See, almost like a night club. That's a
terrific number--hope they're reviving that song."
I sipped the bad coffee and kept still. It was a good song, I often danced
to it, pirouetting on that "down and down we go..." part. I went back to
figuring how we'd walk to the house on 74th Street so that if