Woman Aroused | Page 9

"Has to be that way. Know this sounds odd as the devil, but I know
what I'm doing. Soon as I get out of this mess, I'll explain things--or as
much as I can. Bye George, you've been a bracer, a tonic."
When he left I took out the money, thinking he had never even counted
it. Counting seven grand made me so nervous I went to the portable bar,
found only a heel of bourbon, and finished that.
I dressed to go out and buy a Sunday paper. Every now and then I
touched the envelope in my inside pocket to be sure it was there. I
heard a noise in the kitchen and nearly hit the ceiling. I ran into the
kitchen to see Slob coming through the open window, his fine tiger's
skin mussed and dirty. He brushed against my leg and purred, his big
tomcat's head looking up at me with mild interest.
I laughed and brushed my pants where he'd touched them, pointed to
his milk, asked, "Get much, whoring around?" I cooked some liver for
him, made sure the money was securely in my pocket, and went out to
buy the Times.
People were going to the church across the street and I walked past
them to Lexington Avenue and the stationery store near 73rd. As I was
walking back, turning into my block, I saw a cab pull up in front of the
house. Joe Collins stepped out, then helped a girl out. Joe rang the bell,
then saw me and waved, nodding toward the girl.
It was going to be a big Sunday.
As I came up, Joe boomed, "Georgie boy, meet Stella. Doll, this is my
boon buddy, George Jackson."

Joe's florid face had a faint dark stubble of whiskers and his eyes were
bloodshot--the only thing fresh about him, including his clothes, was
the loud nude on his hand-painted tie. The week before, Joe had gone in
for dogs on his ties, hunting scenes, and before that it was horses--now
it was lush nudes. Joe was head of the Maintenance Department in Sky
Oil, and not a bad sort, even if he was loud and vulgar. He was always
good for heating oil for the house whenever I needed it.
On closer inspection Stella looked a bit bloated, somewhere in her late
thirties: the heavy featured blonde that can be found in most bars
looking for a little excitement of the week-end.
It was obvious they were winding up the night and both were
hung-over. I said hello to Stella and as I unlocked the door, Joe said,
"You're in for a treat, doll. Georgie is a writer. Damn good one. How's
about that, Georgie boy?"
"My press agent," I said politely, wondering if Joe had told heir we
worked for Sky Oil, or what he had told her. Joe was never very careful
with his pick-ups.
"My, this is an odd room," Stella said, looking around. Joe helped her
with her coat and she was a solid-built woman.
"Yeah. Used to be a garage when Georgie's family was in the chips,
real blue-bloods. Now he's down to his last garage! That's a blip." Joe
began to laugh.
Stella glanced at me, said, "He always tries too hard," and her voice
had a nice throaty quality.
As we sat down, the cat came into the room and Stella said, "What a
big pussy," and of course Joe burst out laughing. "What's his name?"
she asked, expertly rubbing the back of his ears.
"Slob"," Joe said before I could answer.
Stella said in that asinine baby-voice people use for animals and kids,

"What a nasty old name to give such a nice pussy-cat.
"His real name is Vaslav--that was Nijinsky's first name," I said. "Then
I shortened it to Slav, and finally Slob."
"I see," she said, not knowing what I was talking about. Joe went to the
bathroom and came out while the toilet was still flushing. He said,
"Give and take. How about giving us a couple of snorters?"
"Sorry, killed the only bottle I had early this morning. Like some
beer?" I asked, feeling a little nervous with all that money in my pocket,
and more than a little angry--Joe had a hell of a nerve bringing this
babe here. Suppose Flo was still with me? Not that it would have killed
Flo to meet a Stella. I was doubly annoyed with myself for being such a
snob.
"Want some beer, doll?" Joe asked, going over and running his big
hand through her over-blonde hair.
"Sure, good to taper off on beer," she said, giving Slob a real rubdown.
I went into the kitchen and I heard them kissing, then Joe told her, "I'd
best go in and help Georgie