Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (47 page)

“Korner Kafe.”

“Maggie?"

“Buzz. What's up."

“I ... uh ... I was just thinking. It's been a couple of days now and I thought maybe you could break away and help me christen my new bachelor pad."

“Now?"

“Yeah."

“Are you nuts? We're in the middle of our lunch rush hour, Buzz."

“Oh. Yeah. When does the rush hour end?"

“Buzz, I've been thinking. The sex is great, but there has to be more to a relationship. When are you going to take me out on a real date?"

“I took you to a club."

“That wasn't a date. It was a disaster."

“I guess it was."

“Buzz, I'm busy. Call me later."

“Okay,” he said, but she had already hung up.

He looked at his watch. I should eat something, he thought, but, hell, I'm not hungry.

He returned to the basement, pulled another dozen copies of
Slut
magazine from the drawer and returned to the bottom of the steps. The first issue he picked up fell open and his eyes bugged.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “It can't be.” He turned a page, then another and another. “It is her! Damn!"

He looked at the date on the cover. Ten years ago, he thought. She would have been nineteen or twenty.

He flipped back to the photographs. “Damn. She's doing three guys at once.” He turned the page and laughed. “That's one happy doggie."

He read the legend.

Daisy Chain is hot, horny and, as you can see, ready to take on all cummers. She's a college co-ed and plans to one day teach high school English. Wouldn't you love to be a student in this gal's class?

Buzz searched through the tapes and film reels and smiled as he triumphantly held a cassette in his hand. The title was “Daisy Chain Does Dixie."

He took the steps two at a time, detoured into the kitchen for another beer and raced up the steps to his second story bedroom. He pushed the tape into his VCR and sat at the foot of his bed as he watched the familiar woman do her thing.

His mind was racing, but he no longer was aroused.

George knew the bedroom was chilly. He was the one who turned down the air-conditioner to sixty-eight degrees, but perspiration drenched his body. He screamed as he ejaculated and eased his chest to Dottie's fleshy breasts. When he regained his breath he said, “I really tore that thing up tonight."

She tapped the top of his head with her index finger.

“What are you doing?"

“Beating your brains out."

He rolled off her and jumped to his feet. “Damn you, Dottie Frank,” he shouted. “I gave you flowers and a wrist corsage. I took you to Charlotte's fanciest supper club. We ordered their finest wine. I caressed and kissed every square inch of your body for over an hour. I screwed you for seven damn minutes. What else do you want?"

“Did you actually time it, George?"

“Hell yes, I timed it. What do you want, Dottie? I've done everything I know how."

“Maybe it's not you,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed, stemming the flow of his semen with tissues.

“You're damned right it's not me. You lay there like a corpse. You don't kiss me. You don't caress me. You don't move. You don't even pretend to enjoy it."

“I'm not an actress, George.” She headed for the bathroom.

“You don't have to be a damned actress, Dottie. All I'm asking is that you try—that you participate."

She turned and glared at him.

His eyes fell to her sagging breasts, her protruding belly, the gray tangle of pubic hair, the tissues jutting out from her labia.

“Do you remember the first time we slept with each other, George?"

“Of course I do."

“Do you remember what you shouted when your orgasm came?"

“What are you talking about?"

“You shouted, ‘Maggie!’ and you did it again tonight. You're not fucking me, George Bennett. You're screwing Maggie Skinner. She can have you."

“That's not true,” he shouted as she closed the bathroom door behind her. He paced the room and stood next to the door. “Did I ... did I really do that?"

“Yes, you did, George."

“If I did, I'm not aware of it. Can't we talk about this?"

The toilet flushed and the tap in the sink opened.

He scooped up his robe, put it on and turned as he heard the door open.

She walked to the side of the bed, picked up her clothes from the floor and dumped them on the bed.

“It's your imagination, Dottie,” he said.

She stepped into her bloomers.

“Dottie. What are you doing?"

“I'm going home where I belong."

“Dottie, don't do this,” he pleaded as he rushed to her side. He tried to hold her, but she resisted. He put his hand on her breast. It felt like a cold, clammy, overripe tomato.

She pulled away and struggled into her brassiere.

“Dottie, please. Let's talk about this."

“There's not much to talk about, George. You remember I told you at the beginning I will not marry a man who cannot satisfy me in bed.” She slipped into the white silk blouse, sat on the edge of the bed and began to roll on her hose.

“I'll ... I'll go to a specialist—what do they call it—a sexologist. I'll read books. I'll learn to please you."

She stood and hiked up her skirt as she stepped into her high heel shoes. “I'm not Maggie Skinner,” she said, “and I know what I look like in my birthday suit."

“Dottie. Maggie is just a child—a friend—an employee."

Dottie nodded. “She's a child all right—a friend—a damn good employee—and has the body of a goddess. And you, George Bennett, are an old fool."

He felt helpless. His chin fell to his chest. “I admit that, Dottie, but I tried."

She smiled as she fastened the buckle of her belt. “You don't have any idea what I'm talking about. George, the girl is nuts about you."

George shook his head. “She's twenty years younger than I am. Hell, she's dating that Adams boy now."

“The Adams boy is a substitute. Unlike me, she's a young woman with physical needs. You threw her out. She had to do something."

“I didn't throw her out. She left because she thought I was in love with you."

She smiled. “What did you just say?"

“I ... I don't remember."

“You said she left because she
thought
you were in love with me. If you do love me instead of Maggie, you would have said she left because she
knew
you were in love with me. Get it, George?"

“You're wrong, Dottie. Don't do this. We can have a wonderful life together."

“Not with you humping me while thinking about Maggie Skinner, we can't.” She put her hands on his face. “George, I'm not angry. We gave it a try. It didn't work. We can still be friends."

George tried to smile. “That will be an improvement over the way it used to be."

She nodded, spread her jacket on the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles.

“What about our business, Dottie? We're still partners, aren't we?” He picked up the jacket and held it for her.

She slipped her arm into the right sleeve. “I talked with Susan Kimel this afternoon. Our partnership contract can be dissolved if you are in agreement."

“You talked with Susan? Today? You planned to break up with me tonight?"

“What I planned was to give it one more chance, George."

“Dottie, please. Don't end our business relationship too."

“I want my diner back, George. For now, that's the life I want to lead. I may sell it one day and retire, but this is not the time."

“What about the trailer park? We were going to convert your land into a trailer park. Dottie, you need my money to do that. Oh, hell, what am I saying? I'll give you the money."

She smiled. “You would, wouldn't you? I can't take your money, George. Once we have water and sewer in Dot, the bank will loan me the money for the trailer park. With social security and rental from the park, I think I can survive financially, even if I do sell the diner someday."

“You're a sharp businesswoman, Dottie Frank. You will get the loan if water and sewer come to Dot, but I wouldn't bet on that happening. I'm beginning to hear rumblings of discontent."

“It'll happen. The Dollars want it. Their influence is on the decline in Dot, but we still dance to their tunes. I just wish you were the choice for mayor instead of that damned highfalutin school principal."

Reluctantly George put on his clothes and drove Dottie to her home. They did not speak. He walked her to the door. She unlocked it, reached inside and snapped on the light. She turned to him. “I'm sorry it didn't work out, George."

“Dottie. Don't do anything hasty. Give yourself time to think about it."

“I want our partnership dissolved tomorrow morning, George. Susan is expecting us.” She bussed his cheek lightly. “George, if you have any feeling for me at all, please sign the papers in the morning."

He nodded, defeated. “If you ever change your mind..."

“I won't."

George slowed as he passed Maggie's house. He saw Frank's truck and her Blazer parked in the driveway. The lights in the house were out. He resumed speed. Why do I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders? he wondered.

“You wanted to see me, George?"

“Close the door, Maggie, and have a seat."

“George, you look terrible. Is something wrong?"

“I didn't sleep last night. I'll be okay."

“George, Dottie and I can take care of things here. Go home and get some rest."

He leaned back in his desk chair and gazed at her a long moment. “I need to tell you some things, Maggie, and they are not open to discussion."

Maggie shifted uneasily in her seat.

“Dottie will not be in today. You're on your own, and, after today, you will not be managing Dot's Diner—just the Korner Kafe and motel."

“What is it, George?"

He leaned forward and sighed. “Dottie and I have agreed to end our, uh, personal relationship. I want to continue our business arrangement, but she does not. She wants things as they were. She wants her diner back. A little later this morning we will meet with Susan Kimel and dissolve the partnership agreement."

He looked so sad. She wanted to rush to his side and hold him in her arms. “This is hard to take in, George. You and Dottie seemed so happy—so right for each other."

He lifted his head and his pathetic eyes locked on hers. “One of Dottie's conditions for a personal relationship was that I satisfy her in bed. I'm an old man, Maggie, and I never was much of a lover. I failed and therefore the relationship failed."

“George, that just isn't..."

He held up his hand. “It isn't open for discussion, Maggie. Dottie and I will continue to be friends. At least, that's what she says and I hope it is true. You deserve to know the truth, Maggie. I'm afraid you are going to be effected by all this."

She could do no more than look at him sympathetically.

“I should never have gone back into business at my age, Maggie. I need to rethink the whole thing. I am going to take a few days off—perhaps a week or two. I may go to Myrtle Beach for a few days. I've always wanted to just walk up and down the sand, breathe in the salt air, and let my mind wander."

“George, I want to tell you that..."

He again silenced her with his uplifted hand. “It's not open to discussion, Maggie. I'll back you in any business decisions you make while I am gone. You need to know that I will probably decide to sell the café and motel if I can find a buyer. The new owner may, or may not, keep our present staff. I may offer Billy Frank an opportunity to buy out my interests in the service stations."

“George, please don't do anything hasty."

“I don't intend to. That's why I am taking some time off. I want to think everything through carefully."

“George, I..."

He shook his head. “I don't wish to be impolite, Maggie, but please leave now. I want to be alone."

She walked to the door, hesitated and turned to face him. “You are going to hear what I have to day, damn it. You are an old man only because you think you are. If you don't satisfy Dottie in bed, it's her fault, not yours. You are a hell of a lover."

He stared at her in amazement.

“You remember the night I washed your back?"

“Of course."

“I had not one, but two orgasms, sitting behind you in the Whirl Pool, caressing your wonderful body."

“That's not possible. I didn't touch you."

She smiled. “I know. I wonder what would have happened if you had touched me?” She closed the door softly behind her.

“Greta, I am amazed. I did not expect you to be so knowledgeable about plants."

“Mr. Skinner, I have always loved plants. When I was a child, mama had a big vegetable garden and flower gardens all over the place. I just ain't real sure about using this cash register. Show me one more time how to make a refund."

“I know it's a little confusing, Greta. If a customer is not buying anything—just returning something previously purchased, you ring it up just like a sale, but you punch the refund key instead of the big key on the side."

She nodded. “I understand that. It's the other thing that confuses me."

“Okay, if a customer is buying a few things and bringing something back for a refund, first ring up the items he is buying, but before hitting the total button, ring up the returned item and push the refund button."

Greta looked skeptical.

“Since today is Saturday, I hope we will be busy. I'll stay with you all day and help you with the register."

Greta smiled and nodded. “Miz Jenkins says she'll help me too."

“Your name Skinner?"

Frank looked up at the tall, burly man in need of a shave. “I'm Frank Skinner. How may I help you?"

The man placed a copy of the
Charlotte Observer
, turned to the classified section, on the counter. “I'm here to see about the job. Name's Henry Elkins. Folks call me Hank."

Frank extended his hand as Greta moved away. “The job I have open involves hard manual labor. I am in the lawn care business and we do some grading and landscaping for new homes under construction in Dot. Does that sound like something that would interest you, Hank?"