frightened, weren't you? You really thought I was angry with you, didn't you?"
"Of course, I thought it!" I said, and, hugging her, kissing her, I swatted her bottom. "My God! The way you were talking, and waving that gun around-!"
"Gun? Look, no gun!" She held her purse open for examination. "I couldn't be angry with you, Britt. What reason would I have? You were married, and you couldn't get unmarried. But you just about had to have the job, and you wanted me. So you did the only thing you could. I understand perfectly, and don't you give it another thought, because nothing is changed. We'll go on just like we were; and everything's all right."
It was hard to believe that things would be all right. Knowing her as well as I did, I didn't see how they could be. As the weeks passed, however, my suspicions were lulled-almost, almost leaving me-for there was nothing whatsoever to justify them. I even found the courage to criticize her about her language, pointing out that it was hardly suitable to one with two college degrees. I can't say that it changed anything, but she acknowledged the criticism with seeming humility, and solemnly promised to mend her ways.
So everything was all right-ostensibly. The work went on, and went well. Ditto for my relationship with Manny. No one could have been more loving or understanding. Certainly, no one, no other woman, had ever been as exciting. Over and over, I told myself how lucky I was to have such a woman. A wildly sensuous, highly intelligent woman who also had money and was generous with it, thus freeing me from the niggling and nagging and guilt feelings which had heretofore hindered and inhibited me.
It is a fallacy that people who do not obtain the finer things in life have no appreciation for them. Actually, no one likes good things more than a bum-and I say this knowing whereof I speak. I truly appreciated Manny after all the sorry b-axes which had previously been my lot. I truly appreciated everything she gave me, all the creature comforts she made possible for me, in addition to herself.
Everything wasn't just all right, as she had promised. Hell, everything was beautiful.
Until today.
The Day of the Dog …
***
I lay on my back, bracing myself against any movement which would cause him to attack.
I ached hideously, then grew numb from lack of movement; and shadows fell on the blinded windows. It was late afternoon. The sun was going down, and now- my legs jerked convulsively . They jerked again, even as I was trying to brace them. And now I heard a faint rustling sound: The dog tensing himself, getting ready to spring.
" D-don't ! Please don't!"
Laughter. Vicious, maliciously amused laughter.
I rubbed my eyes with a trembling hand. Brushed the blinding sweat from them.
The dog was gone. The manager of the place, the mulatto woman, stood at the foot of the bed. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in a contemptuous gesture of dismissal.
"All right, prick. Beat it!"
"W-what?" I sat up shakily. "What did you say?"
"Get out. Grab your rags, and drag ass!"
"Now, listen, you-you can't-"
"I can't what?"
"Nothing," I said. "If you'll just leave, so that I can get dressed…"
She said I'd get dressed while she was there, by God, because she wanted to look at the bed before I left. She figured a yellow bastard like me had probably shit in it. ( And where had I heard such talk before-the unnerving, egosmashing talk of terror? )
"Jus' so damned scared," she jeered. "Prob'ly shit the bed like a fucking baby. You did, I'm gonna make you clean it up."
I got dressed, with her watching.
I waited, head hanging like a whipped animal, while she jerked the sheets back, examined them, and then sniffed them.
"Okay," she said, at last. "Reckon you got all your shit in you. Still full of it, like always."
I turned, and started for the door.
"Don't you never come back, hear? I see your skinny ass again, I lays a belt on it!"
I got out of the place. So fast that I fell,
"Of course, I thought it!" I said, and, hugging her, kissing her, I swatted her bottom. "My God! The way you were talking, and waving that gun around-!"
"Gun? Look, no gun!" She held her purse open for examination. "I couldn't be angry with you, Britt. What reason would I have? You were married, and you couldn't get unmarried. But you just about had to have the job, and you wanted me. So you did the only thing you could. I understand perfectly, and don't you give it another thought, because nothing is changed. We'll go on just like we were; and everything's all right."
It was hard to believe that things would be all right. Knowing her as well as I did, I didn't see how they could be. As the weeks passed, however, my suspicions were lulled-almost, almost leaving me-for there was nothing whatsoever to justify them. I even found the courage to criticize her about her language, pointing out that it was hardly suitable to one with two college degrees. I can't say that it changed anything, but she acknowledged the criticism with seeming humility, and solemnly promised to mend her ways.
So everything was all right-ostensibly. The work went on, and went well. Ditto for my relationship with Manny. No one could have been more loving or understanding. Certainly, no one, no other woman, had ever been as exciting. Over and over, I told myself how lucky I was to have such a woman. A wildly sensuous, highly intelligent woman who also had money and was generous with it, thus freeing me from the niggling and nagging and guilt feelings which had heretofore hindered and inhibited me.
It is a fallacy that people who do not obtain the finer things in life have no appreciation for them. Actually, no one likes good things more than a bum-and I say this knowing whereof I speak. I truly appreciated Manny after all the sorry b-axes which had previously been my lot. I truly appreciated everything she gave me, all the creature comforts she made possible for me, in addition to herself.
Everything wasn't just all right, as she had promised. Hell, everything was beautiful.
Until today.
The Day of the Dog …
***
I lay on my back, bracing myself against any movement which would cause him to attack.
I ached hideously, then grew numb from lack of movement; and shadows fell on the blinded windows. It was late afternoon. The sun was going down, and now- my legs jerked convulsively . They jerked again, even as I was trying to brace them. And now I heard a faint rustling sound: The dog tensing himself, getting ready to spring.
" D-don't ! Please don't!"
Laughter. Vicious, maliciously amused laughter.
I rubbed my eyes with a trembling hand. Brushed the blinding sweat from them.
The dog was gone. The manager of the place, the mulatto woman, stood at the foot of the bed. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in a contemptuous gesture of dismissal.
"All right, prick. Beat it!"
"W-what?" I sat up shakily. "What did you say?"
"Get out. Grab your rags, and drag ass!"
"Now, listen, you-you can't-"
"I can't what?"
"Nothing," I said. "If you'll just leave, so that I can get dressed…"
She said I'd get dressed while she was there, by God, because she wanted to look at the bed before I left. She figured a yellow bastard like me had probably shit in it. ( And where had I heard such talk before-the unnerving, egosmashing talk of terror? )
"Jus' so damned scared," she jeered. "Prob'ly shit the bed like a fucking baby. You did, I'm gonna make you clean it up."
I got dressed, with her watching.
I waited, head hanging like a whipped animal, while she jerked the sheets back, examined them, and then sniffed them.
"Okay," she said, at last. "Reckon you got all your shit in you. Still full of it, like always."
I turned, and started for the door.
"Don't you never come back, hear? I see your skinny ass again, I lays a belt on it!"
I got out of the place. So fast that I fell,
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