The Edge of Sleep (6 page)

“I’ll bet you do, too. I just didn’t want to intrude if your friend was coming back. He’s one big bruiser; I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”

“He’s gone home,” she said.

“And left a pretty lady like yourself all alone?”

“He’s never much company at the best of times,” she said. “I like a man who can express himself. Can you express yourself, Lyle?”

“Edgar,” he corrected her.

“You’re not one of these strong, silent types, are you? Although you look strong. I like strength, but not silence. I like to know how a man is feeling. I like some noise.”

“I thought you might. When I saw you in the restaurant, I said to myself, there’s a very pretty woman who is not afraid of a little noise. I’ll bet she’s pretty noisy herself. Under the right circumstances.”

“Are you the right circumstances, Lyle?”

He grinned, a lop-sided affair that dragged his face to the left and narrowed his eyes. Dee realized he thought it was his sexy look.

“You better believe it,” he said. He leaned closer to her. Dee grasped a hair from his chest and yanked it free from the skin.

“Hey!”

“Just checking,” said Dee. “You are going to be noisy, aren’t you?”

Ash trudged along the highway, keeping his head down so the approaching headlights would not blind him. The gusts of wind created by passing trucks were strong enough to rock him, and many of the motorists honked at him even though he was not on the road. He could hear their bleeps dropping downscale as they raced away, still angered and startled by his appearance in a night they had assumed was ordered just for them and the traffic.

It was always a bad sign when she sent him home alone. He knew she still had her pills, he had checked only two days ago. Maybe he should count them, he thought. Maybe she had them but wasn’t taking them. She was feeling too good; she had too much energy and too much enthusiasm. Something was bound to disappoint her eventually. If nothing else, then Ash himself. And when she was disappointed she would crash from where she was now. She would fall as fast and as far as the eagles fell when they swooped down for a rabbit. Ash loved to watch them on the nature shows on television, the way the great birds just folded their wings and plummeted straight down from the clouds. Watching the birds was exhilarating, but watching Dee was terrifying. Like the birds that always rose up once more triumphantly clutching a fish or a hare. Dee would rise again with her prey in her talons.

Lights behind him flashed bright and dim, bright and dim, and he heard a horn blaring a tattoo of recognition. Dee’s car flashed by and he caught a glimpse of her waving hand, her smiling face illuminated by the beams of the car behind her. She blew him a kiss, still honking as she sped away toward the motel.

The man from the restaurant was in the car behind Dee. Ash saw his puzzled look as he stared at Ash momentarily before he, too, raced away into the darkness toward the motel.

“See you later, Lyle,” Ash said. His voice was drowned out by the whoosh of air, the squeal of tires on pavement.

Ash put his head down and trudged on.

Edgar decided she could call him Lyle—or Heathcliff or Geronimo—if she wanted to. The original Lyle seemed to be her husband, or her father—Edgar was not certain which—but he certainly wasn’t going to keep correcting her and risk queering his luck. He worked as a sales representative for a sportswear firm and spent half of the year on the road, servicing accounts. Occasionally he got lucky and was able to service some of the ladies who worked in the stores as well—or women he would pick up like this one. When he did get lucky he often gave them free tennis shirts from his samples as a token of his affection. From the look of things so far with this lady, however, a tennis shirt would never suffice. He would bestow her with shirts, shoes, warm-up suit, the whole outfit. He hadn’t just gotten lucky this time: he had won the lottery.

She had his shirt off of him before the door was closed. She seemed game for anything and Edgar hoped he would have enough imagination to take advantage of the opportunity.

She threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his chest. The strength of her embrace surprised him. She was not small but she was no giant, either, yet when she squeezed him it took his breath away. Suddenly she was lifting him off the floor, her face still in his chest, and she twirled him with a few staggering steps. When she put him down she pulled her face away and looked up at him. She was smiling, grimacing really, with his chest hairs in her clenched teeth.

“Hey!”

“What are you, a baby?” she said. “Is um baby?”

“You’re kind of hyper, aren’t you? Let’s take it slow.”

“Is um baby?” she mocked. She stroked his chest. “Did I hurt ums? Did I hurt baby?”

“I guess I’ll live,” he said. “You just surprised me.” It was his first opportunity to glance around the room. He halfhoped to see a trapeze or some other device of exotic erotica. Whatever it was, whatever she had in mind, he would try it. Edgar felt he had spent half a lifetime thinking about the more advanced and complicated techniques of sex that he was only dimly aware existed. He was never precise in his mind about the details and he had always lacked the confidence to experiment. The things he wanted to do seemed embarrassing, unreasonable—almost rude—and he could not bring himself to ask his normal bedmates to try them. Especially not his wife, whom he would have to face again in the cold light of day. But with this woman, this Dee, he knew he would not have to ask permission for anything. In fact, it might be all he could do just to hang on.

“I know what baby needs,” she said. She pulled her blouse over her head without undoing the buttons. She wore no bra. Her breasts were small and firm and she arched her back as if she were proud of them. He thought she should be. Her ribs showed against her skin, and with her back bowed her belly sucked inward the way it did in statues. She was not small of bone; her shoulders were broad and her hips flared distinctly from her waist, but she was lean and strong. Edgar loved them lean. He liked to feel as if he could lift and move his women when he needed to; he liked to feel in control.

“Does um want some?”

“I do,” he said and put his hands on her biceps as he lowered his head. The muscles were firm under his fingers.

She moaned loudly as he took the breast in his mouth. Edgar knew he was going to love this. He sucked her breast briefly, switched to the other one, heard her gasp with pleasure, and reached for the zipper of her skirt.

“I’m going to take good care of you,” he murmured. He buried his face in her neck as he fumbled with her skirt.

“Shut up,” she said. She took his head in her hands and placed it back on her breast. “I’ll tell you when you’re done.”

Ash reached the motel after an hour’s walk. He saw the Daybreak sign, mouthed it aloud to himself, and turned into the courtyard. Their room was on the corner. Dee always took a corner room if possible. It cut their neighbors in half, she explained. Ash had tried to visualize their neighbors being cut in two, but the images always led to thoughts of violence and blood and he soon stopped trying to understand what she meant.

The curtains were only partially drawn and the lights within the room were on. Ash peered in and saw Dee on the floor on all fours. The Lyle was behind her, thrusting at her. Dee’s teeth were bared as if she were snarling and he could hear her calling.

Ash did not want to watch. He sat on the hard concrete stoop in front of the motel room door.

“Daddy, oh. Daddy!” he heard her call. “Yes, Daddy! Come on, Daddy!”

Ash covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to think about the last good time with Dee. It was just last night when she was beginning to be happy, but she wasn’t yet too happy the way she was today. He was watching one of his nature shows. A snake had encountered a frog that, instead of hopping for its life, had inflated itself twice its size and risen on its legs. It seemed too large for the snake, but the snake knew better. Ash was taken by the stupefied look on the frog’s face as it was being swallowed. It showed no alarm, no fear, just a stupid wonderment.

“See that?” Dee had said. “It doesn’t even care.”

Ash had liked having her watch the show with him. She so often wasn’t home or wasn’t in the mood, but last night she had chosen to spend her time with him, just hanging around the room, watching television and commenting on things they saw. It was the kind of time they had together so seldom.

When the thoughts of last night could no longer drown out Dee’s yells. Ash started to do pushups. In the exercise yard many of the men had done pushups to kill the time and Ash had become the best of all. He did them now, easing himself down until his nose touched the concrete before pushing up again, scrupulously avoiding any use of his legs, which he knew was cheating. He worked until sweat poured from his face and his arms trembled with the effort.

Dee had stopped screaming and now he heard the sound of voices in conversation.

Edgar lay back on the bed, convinced he was going to die, but, as the old saw had it, what a way to go. She was all he had hoped for—imaginative, indefatigable, multi-orgasmic—and loud as hell. He did not have to guess how matters were proceeding; she let him know at the top of her lungs.

And was he ever doing well. He’d always suspected he was pretty good at this sex business, but he now realized he was a champion. He had pleasured her until she could no longer move. She lay beside him, drenched in sweat, exhausted and satisfied deeply enough to last a normal woman a month. Edgar could not resist a smug smile of self-congratulation as he stared at the ceiling. He’d certainly given her more than she had bargained for.

He would have to get this woman’s phone number. He would be back in the area in a month’s time, and she was certainly worth a repeat visit. There were a few variations he had been tempted to try and would certainly get around to them next time. He had also learned a few new wrinkles, which he would use with his wife. They weren’t apt to work, of course, because they relied on a certain level of enthusiasm, and enthusiasm was a quality his wife lacked—in spades. But if he had ever entertained thoughts that her shy reserve—not to say torpor—was in any way his fault, he could certainly dismiss those suspicions now. He had just driven this woman crazy. And she was a bright, good-looking woman, too; the kind of woman who could have just about any man she wanted. She had wanted Edgar—and he had just proven that she had made the right choice.

Edgar could not remember when he had felt more gratified after a bout with a relative stranger—or less inclined to bolt out the door after the passion was gone. Still, it was late; he had to work in the morning and he had already lain beside her for several minutes. She could not reasonably take offense if he left now.

He made a show of looking at his watch.

“My God, is it that late?” he said, sitting up abruptly. She put her hand on his naked thigh.

“I had no idea,” he said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. She had that edge to her voice that he had heard once or twice when they were hot at it. He had chosen to ignore it then, chalking it up to the heat of passion, but he had not liked it then and he liked it even less now.

“It’s late,” he said. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling away from the hand on his thigh. “I’ve got to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said.

He understood the sentiment. Naturally she would want to hang on to him. That’s how women were; they never knew when to let go. But damn, he didn’t like that demanding tone. It made him angry.

“I’ve got to run,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“You’re not done,” she said.

He chose to laugh even though he wanted to belt her one. So aggressive, so demanding.

“I’m done,” he said. He gave her a big smile and a wink. “For now. There’s always next time.”

“You
may be done,” she said, rising to her knees on the bed.

She really was a good-looking woman, Edgar thought, even though he found her nudity mildly embarrassing without the lust to justify it. Most women would not look all that good to him after sex, not in the harsh light of the motel room. Their breasts would sag or their tummies shake or their thighs would bulge. They had moles and veins and stretch marks, none of which fit the perfection of the women in magazines, which had formed his notion of feminine beauty. Most women felt better to Edgar than they looked. But this woman really did look good. Her stomach went in, her breasts seemed almost boastfully upright. What a shame that she was turning into a bitch.

“You seemed pretty done to me,” he said, hoping she would join his chuckle. He didn’t want a scene.

“You may be done, but you’re not finished,” she said.

Edgar picked up his shirt from the floor. She scrambled off the bed and stood between him and the door.

“Are you kidding? I just gave you enough for six women. You ought to be grateful for what you got.”

“I’ll be the judge of what I got, and it was precious little,” she said. She yanked the shirt out of his hand.

“I’ve never had any complaints before,” said Edgar.

“You got some now,” she said. “Get back on the bed.” She pushed him on the chest. The edge of the bed caught him on the back of the knees and he tumbled backward.

She was atop him, her hand between his legs, pulling impatiently at him.

“Get it up,” she said.

“Christ, what’s the matter with you?” he demanded, trying to twist away but being constrained by her forearm on his chest and the hand in his crotch.

“Get it up,” she repeated. “Play with it.”

“You play with it. That’s not my job.”

“You’ve done it often enough,” she said. “Play with it, get it up.”

He squirmed underneath her, afraid to make a maximum effort to get her off for fear that she was stronger than he was.

“Cut it out. That’s enough for one night. I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll get it on again.”

“Do it now!” she exclaimed. She took his hand and clapped it between his legs. “Do as you’re told.”