cwilleford.cockfighter-第18部分

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　　〃My　husband's　been　dead　for　five　years；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　she　said　shyly。　〃You　don't　know　how　nice　it　is　to　cook　a　meal　for　a　man　again。　I'd　almost　forgotten　myself。　I　loved　my　husband　very　much；　and　still　do；　I　suppose。　My　brother's　always　telling　me　how　foolish　I　am　to　keep　this　big　house　and　live　here　all　alone。　An　apartment　would　be　easier　to　keep；　I　know；　and　give　me　more　free　time；　but　I　don't　know　what　I'd　do　with　more　free　time　if　I　had　it。　I　don't　know　what　to　do　with　myself　half　the　time　as　it　is。
　　〃This　old　house　has　a　lot　of　pleasant　memories　for　me；　and　I'd　miss　them　if　I　ever　sold　it。　I　can　see　my　husband　in　every　room。　Sometimes；　during　the　day；　I　pretend　he　isn't　dead　at　all。　He's　at　the　office；　that's　where　he　is；　working；　and　when　six　o'clock　es　he'll　be　ing　home　through　the　front　door　like　always；　and。　。　。〃　Her　voice　trailed　away；　and　two　tears　escaped　into　her　long　black　eyelashes。
　　Bernice　wiped　them　away；　tossed　her　head　impatiently　and　laughed。
　　〃Morbid；　aren't　I？　How　about　some　more　coffee？〃
　　I　nodded；　took　my　cigarettes　out　of　my　shirt　pocket；　and　offered　them　to　her。　She　put　the　cork　tip　in　her　mouth；　and　when　I　flipped　my　lighter；　she　held　my　hand　with　both　of　hers　to　get　a　light。　This　was　unnecessary。　My　hand　was　perfectly　steady。　After　refilling　the　cups；　she　sat　down　again　and　described　circles　on　the　tablecloth　with　a　long　red　fingernail。
　　〃I　know　that　you　want　to　go；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　she　said　at　last；　〃but　I'm　finding　this　a　novel　experience。　It's　a　rare　instance　when　a　woman　can　pour　her　troubles　into　a　man's　receptive　ear　without　being　told　to　shut　up！〃　She　laughed；　and　shrugged　ically。
　　〃But　I　really　don't　have　any　troubles。　As　far　as　money　goes；　I'm　fixed　forever。　My　husband　saw　to　that；　God　bless　him。　I　own　the　house；　and　my　trust　fund　is　well　guarded　by　the　bank　trustees。　And　I　have　a　circle　of　friends　I've　known　most　of　my　adult　life。　So　where　are　my　troubles？〃　She　sighed　audibly　and　licked　her　lips　with　the　point　of　her　tongue　like　a　cat。
　　〃I　should　be　the　happiest　woman　in　the　world。　But　once　in　a　while；　just　once　in　a　while；　mind　you；　Mr。　Mansfield；　I'd　like　to　go　into　my　bathroom　and　find　the　toilet　seat　up　instead　of　down！〃　Color　flooded　into　her　face；　and　the　freckles　almost　disappeared。　She　got　up　from　the　table　hastily　and　pushed　open　the　swinging　door　leading　to　the　living　room。　〃I'll　get　your　money　for　you；　Mr。　Mansfield。〃
　　She　had　aroused　my　sympathy。　I　wondered　what　her　husband　had　been　like。　An　insurance　executive　probably。　Every　time　he　had　gotten　a　promotion　he　had　used　the　extra　money　for　more　protection；　more　insurance。　It　must　have　cost　her　plenty　to　keep　up　this　big　house。　And　it　was　a　cinch　she　didn't　have　any　children；　or　she　would　have　talked　about　them　instead　of　a　man　five　years　dead。　If　I　could　have　talked；　I　would　have　been　able　to　kid　her　out　of　her　mood　in　no　time。　My　sex　life　had　really　suffered　since　I　gave　up　talking。　Not　pletely；　because　money　always　talks　when　words　fail；　but　a　lot　of　women　had　gotten　away　during　the　last　couple　of　years　because　of　my　stubborn　vow　of　silence。
　　As　I　pondered　the　situation；　how　best　to　handle　it；　Bernice　returned　to　the　kitchen。　She　placed　a　fifty…dollar　bill　on　the　table。　The　fifty　ruined　everything　for　me。
　　I　could　have　accepted　a　twenty；　because　Lee　Vernon　had　set　the　fee；　but　I　couldn't；　with　good　conscience；　accept　fifty　dollars。　My　concert　wasn't　worth　that　much。　I　knew　it；　and　Bernice　Hungerford　knew　it。　She　was　trying　to　buy　me　and　I　resented　it。　I　folded　the　bill　into　a　small　square；　placed　it　on　the　edge　of　the　table　and　flipped　it　to　the　floor　with　my　forefinger。　I　got　up　from　the　table　and　left　the　room。
　　I　picked　up　my　guitar　in　the　living　room　and　had　almost　reached　the　foyer　when　Bernice　caught　up　with　me。　She　tugged　on　my　arm；　and　when　I　stopped；　got　in　front　of　me；　looking　up　wistfully　into　my　face。　My　jaws　were　tight　and　I　looked　over　her　head　at　the　door。
　　〃Please！〃　she　said；　stuffing　the　folded　bill　into　my　shirt　pocket。　〃I　know　what　you're　thinking；　but　it　isn't　true！　The　only　reason　I　gave　you　a　fifty　was　because　I　didn't　have　a　twenty。　I　thought　I　had　one；　but　I　didn't。　Please　take　it！〃
　　I　dropped　my　eyes　to　her　face；　looked　at　her　steadily；　and　she　turned　away　from　me。
　　〃All　right。　So　I　lied。　Take　it　anyway。　Fifty　dollars　doesn't　mean　anything　to　me。　I'm　sorry　and　I'm　ashamed。　And　if　you　want　to　know　the　truth　I'm　more　ashamed　than　sorry！〃
　　I　retrieved　my　hat　from　the　marble　angel's　thumb　and　put　it　on　my　head。　But　I　didn't　leave。　I　reconsidered。　Damn　it　all　anyway；　the　woman　was　desirable！　I　removed　my　hat；　replaced　it　on　the　angel's　thumb　and　dropped　my　guitar　case　to　the　carpeted　floor。　Bernice　had　started　up　the　stairs；　but　I　caught　up　with　her　on　the　third　step；　lifted　her　into　my　arms　and　continued　up　the　stairs。　She　buried　her　face　in　my　neck　and　stifled　a　sob；　clinging　to　me　with　arms　like　a　child。　As　I　climbed　I　staggered　beneath　her　weight…she　must　have　weighed　a　solid　one　hundred　and　forty…five　pounds…but　I　didn't　drop　her。　When　I　reached　the　balcony　I　was　puffing　with　my　mouth　open　to　regain　my　wind。
　　Bernice　whispered　softly　into　my　ear；　〃The　bedroom's　the　first　door　on　the　right。〃
　　
　　
　　The　first　time　was　for　me。　As　nervous　as　Bernice　was；　at　least　at　first；　it　could　hardly　have　gone　any　other　way。　But　I　was　gentle　with　her；　and　providing　me　with　satisfaction　apparently　gave　her　the　reassurance　she　needed。　There　was　none　of　that　foolishness　about　wanting　to　turn　off　the　bedside　lamps；　for　example；　and　when　she　returned　from　the　bathroom；　she　still　had　her　clothes　off。
　　I　had　propped　myself　up　on　both　pillows；　and　I　smoked　and　watched　her　as　she　poured　two　small　snifters　of　brandy。　The　cut…glass　decanter　was　on　a　side　table；　beside　a　fortable　wing　chait　It　was　unusual；　I　thought；　to　keep　a　decanter　of　cognac　in　a　bedroom；　but　having　a　drink　afterward　was　probably　a　postcoital　ritual　that　she　and　her　late　husband　had　practiced。
　　Although　Bernice　was　a　trifle　on　the　chunky　side；　she　had　a　good　figure。　Her　heavy　breasts　had　prolapsed　slightly；　but　the　prominent　nipples　were　as　pink　as　a　roseate　spoonbill。　Her　slim　waist　emphasized　the　beautiful　swelling　lines　of　her　full　hips；　and　her　skin；　except　for　a　scattering　of　freckles　on　her　shoulders；　was　as　white　as　a　peeled　almond。　With　her　thick　black　hair　unloosened；　and　trailing　down　her　back；　Bernice　was　a　very　beautiful　woman。　To　top　it　off；　she　had　a　sense　of　style。　I　wanted　to　talk　to　her　so　badly　I　could　almost　taste　the　words　in　my　mouth；　and　it　was　all　I　could　do　to　hold　back　the　torrent　that　would　bee　a　flood　if　I　ever　let　them　go。
　　After　Bernice　handed　me　my　glass；　she　sat　cross…legged　on　the　bed；　facing　me；　swirling　her　brandy　in　the　snifter　she　held　with　cupped　hands。　Her　face　was　flushed　slightly　with　excitement。　She　peered　intently　into　her　brandy　glass；　refusing　to　meet　my　level　stare。
　　〃I　want　to　tell　you　something；　Frank；〃　she　said　in　a　soft　contralto；　〃something　important。　I'm　not　promiscuous。〃
　　She　said　this　so　primly　I　wanted　to　laugh。　Instead；　I　grinned；　wet　a　forefinger　in　my　brandy　and　rubbed　the　nipple　of　her　right　breast。
　　〃And　no　matter　what　you　may　think；　you're　the　first　man　I've　let　make　love　to　me　since　my　husband　died。〃
　　I　didn't　believe　her；　of　course；　not　for　an　instant。　But　that　is　the　way　women　are。　They　always　feel　that　a　man　will　think　less　of　them　if　they　act　like　human　beings。　What　did　it　matter　to　me　whether　she　had　slept　with　anyone　or　not　for　the　last　five　years？　What　possible　difference　could　it　make　at　this　moment？　Now　was　now；　and　the　past　and　the　future　were　unimportant。
　　As　the　nipple　gradually　hardened　beneath　my　circling　finger　she　laughed；　an　abrupt；　angry　little　laugh；　and　tossed　off　the　remainder　of　her　brandy。　I　took　her　glass；　put　both　of　them　aside；　pulled　her　down　beside　me；　and　kissed　her。
　　The　second　time　was　better　and　lasted　much　longer。　Although　I　was　handicapped　by　being　unable　to　issue　instructions；　Bernice　was　experienced；　cooperative　and　so　eager　to　please　me　that　she　anticipated　practically　everything　I　wanted　to　do。　And　at　last；　when　I　didn't　believe　I　could　hold　out　for　another　moment；　she　climaxed。　I　remained　on　my　back；　with　Bernice　on　top　of　me；　and　she　nibbled　on　my　shoulder。
　　〃I　could　fall　in　love　with　you；　Frank　Mansfield；〃　she　said　softly。　〃If　there　were　only　some　way　I　could　prove　it　to　you！〃
　　Suddenly　she　got　out　of　bed；　grabbed　my　undershirt　and　shorts　from　the　winged　chaiz　and　entered　the　bathroom。　I　raised　myself　on　my　elbows；　and　watched　her　through　the　open　door　as　she　washed　my　underwear　in　the　washbowl。　She　hummed　happily　as　she　scrubbed　away。　My　underwear　wasn't　dirty。　I　had　put　it　on　clean　after　a　shower　at　the　hotel　before　reporting　in　at　the　Chez　Vernon　at　eight　thirty　that　evening。　Women；　sometimes；　have　a　peculiar　way　of　demonstrating　their　affection。
　　
　　
　　Five　o'clock　finally　rolled　around；　but　I　hadn't　closed　my　eyes。　Bernice　slept　soundly　at　my　side；　a　warm；　heavy　leg　thrown　over　mine；　an　arm　draped　limply　across　my　chest。　She　breathed　heavily　through　her　open　mouth。　I　eased　my　leg　out　from　beneath　hers　and　got　out　of　bed　on　my　side。　The　sheet　that　had　covered　us　was　disarranged；　kicked　to　the　bottom　of　the　bed。　I　pulled　it　over　her　shoulders；　before　taking　my　clothes　from　the　chair　into　the　bathroom。　My　underwear　was　still　dripping　wet　and　draped　over　the　metal　bar　that　held　the　shower　curtain。　I　pulled　on　my　clothes　without　underwear。　As　soon　as　I　was　dressed；　I　raised　the　toilet　seat；　switched　off　the　bathroom　light　and　tiptoed　out　of　the　bedroom；　closing　the　door　softly　behind　me。
　　At　the　foot　of　the　stairs；　I　retrieved　my　hat　and　guitar；　and　made　my　exit　into　the　dawn。　The　sky　was　just　beginning　to　turn　gray。　I　opened　the　guitar　case；　removed　the　instrument；　and　tried　to　scrape　off　my　name　with　my　knife。　It　was　burned　in　too　deeply；　but　Bernice　would　be　able　to　see　that　I　had　tried　to　scrape　it　off。　Then　I　put　the　neck　of　the　guitar　on　the　top　step；　and　stomped　on　it　until　it　broke。　After　cutting　the　strings　with　my　knife；　I　placed　the　broken　instrument　on　the　wele　mat。
　　There　was　an　oleander　bush　on　the　left　side　of　the　porch。