The Demon (7 page)

 
But, alack and alas, times thrust is inevitable, and so the cleansing rain of summer was turned off and bodies briskly rubbed with inadequate towels. When they finished drying, Harry took the towel from her hands, slowly slid his hands across her body while looking into her eyes, then pulled her close to him and nuzzled her hair and neck. Youre a magnificent, woman, Mary, and kissed her on the shoulder, the neck, the lips.

O, Tom, her eyes closed, swaying with a feeling of ecstasy, my precious Tom, I love you. Neither one reacted to the statement, but Harry continued

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to kiss her for another few seconds, then they dressed and left to fulfill their commitments to job and time.

 
When they parted at the corner, Mary looked up at Harry with eyes that were aglow and dreamily twinkling. You will come over to the park when you get back, wont you?

 
Of course, smiling gently. He squeezed her hand. Goodbye Mary.

So long Tom.

 
Harry walked back to the office knowing that he would not have to check up on her to see if she was sitting by the lake, waiting. She/d be there, for a long time. And who knows, he might go back someday. Yeah . . . the next time he wanted a box lunch, hahahaha. But she was all right, that broad, at least while shes hungry. Hungry hell, she was starving. But shes got an insatiable appetite. And not for the old zortch. Love. Yeah, thats what she wants. A little T.L.C. Some affection and understanding. I bet she could be a pretty good wife—but not for me. Its too bad, we could have some good lunch hours (or two), but thems the breaks. But she/d probably change after she wasnt so hungry, after she had had a few good, steady meals.

Well, anyway, thats the end of that little scene. Sure was a ball while it lasted. Glad she didnt get too mushy. A pretty straight broad. Bet it was the first time she fucked around on her old man. Wonder what hes going to think when she comes home tonight with her skin and eyes glowing? He probably wont even notice. He must be some kind of jerk. Maybe shes right and hes just an asshole. But you can bet your sweet ass that that glow will be gone in a couple of weeks. Poor bitch. Feel sort of sorry for her. Probably curse my ass. . . . But someday she/ll thank me. At least now she knows she doesnt have to sit around and wait for her old man. Now she knows she can spend a night with the boys too, hahaha. . . . Yeah, I probably saved her a lot of time and trouble. Who knows how long it might have taken her to find out she can play around too. Harry disembarked from the elevator, waved at the recep-

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tionist and strolled to his desk. Before he could sit down, Mr.Wentworth's secretary was standing beside him. Where have you been?

Out to lunch. Why, did you miss me, Louise?

 
No, but Mr. Wentworth did—Harry looked at his watch— and was pretty mad when he left.

Krist, it is late, isnt it?

 
Frankly, Im surprised you bothered to come back at all, or are you just early for tomorrow? laughing quietly.

 
Thanks, I need your cheerfulness, frowning. What did he want?

 
The figures for the Compton and Brisbane proposal. We found most of the information on your desk, but the calculations and data sheets and a few other things were missing.

 
O, krist, his previous elation drained, they should be right here, opening a drawer and pulling notebooks and a few folders out and putting them on the desk. What did he want them now for, assembling papers hurriedly, he said he didnt need them until tomorrow.

 
Evidently there was a sudden change, shrugging her shoulders, and he had to meet with the client this afternoon. You/d better get them ready, he said he would call if he had to have them. He thought he— O, theres the phone.

 
Louise left, and Harry continued to arrange the papers, hoping—almost praying—that Mr. Wentworth would not call. He suddenly felt nauseous as he realized that that might be him on the phone now. He turned and looked toward Louise, who was nodding her head and writing on a pad. He tried to get her attention by increasing the intensity of his stare, but she continued to listen and take notes. All of a sudden his insides were in a turmoil, his bones and flesh seemed to be knotted with anxiety. For krists sake, Louise, look up, will you? Harry could feel his toes twitching and his eyes starting to tear slightly from staring so hard. Damn it, clenching his jaw tightly, is he on the phone????

 
Louise hung up the phone, looked at her notes for a few seconds, then noticed Harry staring at her. She returned his

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stare for a second, wondering what was wrong with him, then realized why he was staring and smiled and shook her head no. Harry felt a sudden relief, as if he had just had a reprieve, but then realized that it was to be short-lived, as if he had been taken away from the gas chamber at the last moment, but was already on his way to the gallows. He shook his head. Jesus krist, whats going on? This is crazy. He looked at the mess he had made with the papers, then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and was determined to slow down and just take it easy and get the papers ready. He looked at them for a moment, then carefully and methodically started to assemble them properly.

 
Louise stopped at his desk on her way out. You look like youre ready to spend the night.

 
Well, I thought maybe I/d stay around for a few minutes, looking a little sheepish and embarrassed, just in case Mr. Wentworth called.

I dont think he/ll call now, not if he hasnt called already.

Yeah, youre probably right. Guess I/ll pack up.

Goodnight Harry. See you tomorrow.

 
Yeah. Good night. Harry straightened up his desk and got ready to leave, but decided to stay until five-thirty. He felt that if he somehow stayed that extra half-hour, it would make everything all right, that somehow it would erase what had happened today.

 
Happened???? Yeah, what in the hell did happen? What is all this bullshit about, anyway? Im doing my job. What do they want from me? Krist, youd think I killed someone, or something. Has it just been one day? Jesus. It seems like years ago since I stood on the corner and waited for whatser-name... . Somethings wacky. Just cant figure it. One day . . . I do a good job. They dont have any right to get on my back like that. O balls. Be damned if I know what it is, but something sure as hell is wrong.

 
He left the office and walked along Fifth Avenue for a few blocks, his head tumbling with images and words, then got on a bus and rode to Forty-second Street. He got off and walked

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west to Times Square. The crowds seemed unusually oppressive and his ears hurt as if there were some sort of pressure behind them, as if they were about to be pierced with an ice pick, and his eyeballs felt like they were being pressed by two large thumbs.

 
He stopped at Grants and had a couple of hot dogs and clam juice, then continued down Forty-second Street until he turned into one of the movies. He did not know exactly what was going on on the screen, but it helped relieve the pain in his head. He had reviewed the day so many times, trying desperately to make some semblance of sense out of the events, that he was slowly becoming mentally exhausted, and whatever was happening on the screen absorbed enough from the surface of his mind so that he got relief from the pressure.

 
After a few hours he left the theater and went home. Every now and then the clacking of the subway train seemed to say Compton & Brisbane, Compton & Brisbane, and he would have to shake his head and concentrate on the people in the train or the advertisements until the noise was just the usual click, clack.

 
The following morning Harry got to the office early to be certain to be there when Mr. Wentworth arrived. He double-checked the Compton & Brisbane folders to be sure they were ready, then tried to get involved with another job, but found it impossible to concentrate as he involuntarily continued to look toward the door, his right leg bouncing up and down on the ball of his foot.

 
He did not want to be drinking coffee and eating his usual danish when Mr. Wentworth came in, so he passed them up this morning, and now he wished he had something to wash that metallic taste out of his mouth and feed that active hunger in his gut. It seemed like every part of his body was itchy with apprehension, even the tips of his hair. He tried to freeze a look of deep and absolute concentration on his face, but it felt like his skin would crack.

 
Thank God, Wentworth finally got there. Harry could feel his pulse in his temples and the sweat on his chest and

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under his eyes; could feel his heart pounding in his throat and his stomach twisting and turning. He followed Mr. Went-worth with his eyes, ready to smile if he should look at him, but he just continued to his office.

 
Then Harry waited— And waited— For eternal minutes. He could not believe that time could move so slowly, or that he could feel so sick. He had to constantly swallow his nausea, and those thumbs on his eyes were pressing harder and harder. He sat waiting for Mr. Wentworth to buzz him, his foot bounding uncontrollably, all the power of his mind focused on the control of his anal sphincter muscle. His skin felt as if it were being flushed with molten lead, and he knew that any minute he would leap up from his desk and start to scream and scream and scream and he fought hard to swallow his scream over and over again along with his nausea. He could feel the sweat stinging the small of his back and the toes in his right foot started to cramp, and when the buzzer finally screeched in his ear his skin almost peeled from his bones.

 
Come in here White. Harry could not believe it, but he was actually dizzy when he stood. What the hell is wrong? This is insane. He tried to adjust the serious business look on his face, but his mind and body were so alive and active with emotions that he had no idea what he looked like, but knew he felt like a leprous sheep being led to slaughter. He was so overwhelmed, not only by all these feelings, but also by the fact that he should be experiencing such feelings, that he was almost unable to get from his desk to Mr. Wentworths office. He again tried to pull on a look of self-assurance and entered the office.

You picked one hell of a time to screw off, White!

Im sorry Mr.—

 
Never mind the stories. I dont have time for them. Fortunately I was able to talk their people around not needing the data I did not have with me yesterday, so we have not lost the account, yet—a sigh inside of Harry went kerflop—no thanks to you. But time will only tell. Now, heres the data I took yesterday, tossing a couple of file folders on the desk, get all

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the information properly assembled. I am going to meet with them again next week. I had to do a back-breaking selling job, yesterday, to get that appointment, so make certain everything is ready. Got it?

Yes sir. I/ll—

 
I will be dictating some extensive notes to Mrs. Wills today, and she/ll give you a copy of them when they are transcribed. I want you to be absolutely certain that you incorporate the salient facts properly in our summary.

Yes sir, nodding his head, I/ll—

 
I want this proposal so perfect that it sells itself. Got me? Perfect!

Yes sir, nodding his head and picking up the files.

 
And one more thing, Harry standing erect and trying to look alert. This business of strolling off in the afternoon— Harry swallowing hard and praying for survival—it has ended. You understand? Ended!

Yes sir, standing stiff, afraid to move.

 
You are one of the brightest young men we have here, leaning back in his chair, but I dont give a damn how bright you are, youre not doing the corporation any good when you are not here. You understand me? A slight nod. You can have a great future here. You have all the equipment to go right to the top of the ladder . . . the very top. But—and this is the most important thing in your life—you have to want it. You have to want it more than anything else. Thats the key to success. It is available, but it is not going to be given to you. We can give you the opportunity, that is all. You have to do the work. Do I make myself clear?

 
Yes sir. Completely, hoping that the end was near so he could collapse at his desk and breathe.

 
Good. Now go ahead and do the kind of job I know you are capable of doing, and give it to Mrs. Wills when you are finished.

 
He made it. He was sitting at his desk and his body and mind were slowly, but steadily, relaxing, and his breathing came easier and he sat for many minutes, shaking his head in

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disbelief—disbelief that the turmoil was subsiding, and disbelief that he could react the way he had. He was still trembling, slightly, from fear.

 
When he thought he had sat at his desk long enough to impress anyone who might be watching, he went to the mens room. He bathed his face with cold water, then sat on a commode, with the top down, for a few minutes to relax. He wished he could take his clothes off and take a cold shower and put on dry clothes. After a few minutes he nodded his head, got up and went back to his desk and applied himself to his work. There was not too much more he could do on the Compton & Brisbane proposal until he got the notes from Louise, so he involved himself in another project. As he worked he slowly became aware that both his legs were bouncing up and down, and that he was feeling very squirmy in his crotch. He unobtrusively reached down and scratched his crotch a few times, then rubbed it and became aware of the fact that he had a painful hard-on. He suddenly started thinking of Mary and wondered if he should go over to the park— she/d be there in a few minutes—and take her to the hotel, but he quickly nixed that idea. He had to be here today, no matter what. But krist, he was horny. He never felt like this before. At least not that he remembered. The feeling overwhelmed him. He tried to concentrate on his work and all he could think of was his erection and the squirming in his crotch, and when he looked at the papers on his desk, he kept seeing Marys hairy bush and feeling the flesh of her ass between his teeth, or one of her tits in his mouth, and he fidgeted in his seat until he could no longer stand it, then guiltily looked around before getting up and going to the mens room and masturbating. When he finished he sat on the commode, his pants around his ankles, his head hanging dejectedly, sweat dripping down his face, swallowing a vile and bitter nausea he had never tasted before, trying to remember the last time he jerked off, but unable to. He turned red with guilt and remorse and shook his head, perplexed, wondering why he felt the way he did.