Table by the Window - Part 5
For author's notes see Part 1
Having a set course of action had brightened my mood, and I almost sang it through taking a shower, picking a fresh if crumpled T-shirt out of my bag and wiping up the two-week’s load of dust from the sit of the bike. Just before leaving my housekeeper phoned me herself, no doubt surprised to find my incoming call registered on her phone, and promised to take care of the roof as soon as I’m gone to Philly. Everything - including the weather - seemed for a change so jolly and good that I found myself mistrustful of such a turn, inwardly tensing in preparation for whatever would go wrong.
Sure as hell, as I was approximately half way across the city I got stuck in the worst traffic jam that I’d seen for years, where even the maneuverability of the bike that was usually my saving grace in the situations like this didn’t help me much. I was pressed to the pavement side by side with the tourist bus and helplessly waited out under the admiring glances of ten-year old fans crowded to the windows (to the point I feared the bus would turn over right upon me) - till the jerky progress brought me to the nearest crossing that was free enough to serve as an escape route. Twisting and turning and squeezing between the fellow-escapees I was thinking only of finding a space for passage and it wasn’t until I felt I was finally out of road-crisis and running free that I started to recognize the surroundings - and hell, I was passing exactly the spot where I’d hailed the cab, just two streets removed from the café that had recently been the crux of all my waking nightmares and sweet dreams. “No, no, no, - I firmly said to myself, - no way you’re going to turn towards it. Your route is set. It is five in the afternoon, way, way early to go up there. And besides you were going to meet with Jane, dine her and wine her and talk with her on some safe philosophical subjects until you fall stone dead asleep on her old-old couch”. So valiantly I fought off the urge as some ancient Galahad of a mushy tale… (and whatever expletives you do know - insert them here).
For the damage was done, my sunny mood breaking with a loud bang, as I found - automatically riding on through and out of town that even though my bike did not make that silly and useless turn, my thoughts were not so easily swayed from the direction they favored - in simpler words - I was thinking about the café again, reliving in all the excruciating details the sensations of the yesterday’s evening - the waiting, the craving, the flush, the shame and above and before it all the blinding and maddening need.
I swerved to the side of the road and stopped the bike. Where was I going? Why? How could I appear on the doorstep of sweet Jane’s house horny and miserable, and not remotely fit for a friendly date? Then again - where else could I go but on to Jane? If there was other place that would offer a chance of sanity I couldn’t see it now. Maybe I could calm down, maybe her welcome company, sensible conversation, a pair of shots of tequila, sumptuous dinner… God, but I needed some peace!.. I was an idiot, granted, to call her… Yeah, maybe, maybe… but now I did - she was waiting, and what with the freaking jam I was running late as it was.
To contribute to my misery - the weather today seemed specially attuned to my every mood. No it didn’t rain actually (even though a thunderstorm seemed as an appropriate option), but as the evening approached clouds began to cover the sky anew and the air filled with droplets of suspended moisture, more a mist than a drizzle. It wouldn’t have been a nuisance at all if I had been walking, in fact - while I stood by the side of the road, smoking and thinking my rueful thoughts, I was rather enjoying the coolness of early evening and the softened contours of the surrounding hills. Jane would have made a beautiful water-color of such a landscape… Oh, yes, must hurry to Jane!.. And as I put on speed, my momentum gave the drops the penetrating force that they lacked on their own, so by the time I stopped the bike by the sweet Jane’s home, I was not only horny and miserable as I feared, but horny, miserable, wet to the bones and almost an hour late.
She must have been waiting, or else - heard the approaching bike on her perpetually deserted street, anyway - the door opened just as soon as I stopped the engine, a welcome rectangle of yellow light in the gathering dusk, and though I could not make out more than a silhouette, there was no mistaking a smile in her teasing voice:
- Gosh, Charlie, nobody but you could be riding motorcycle for a date on a day like this! - The raincoat-clad elfin woman got nearer, and I heard the irony replaced with a warm concern, - Man, you are soaking wet! Come on in and bugger the dinner, I can rig us a nice thick omelet in no time flat. Didn’t fancy going out anyway, seeing what the weather is, and what possessed you to ride a bike? Don’t you read the forecasts? Wanna catch cold and die and leave your fans bereft?
- There was sun during the day, - I protested weakly, as she pulled me by the hand into the house and straight into the warmth of the kitchen.
- There was sun for all of about two hours, and it’s been like this for a couple of days, - corrected she sternly. Come to think of it, I did wake up rather late in the afternoon, and it had been raining before that. And she made such a picture scolding me - like a cat that spits on a Great Dane. If only I could enjoy it wholeheartedly - the warmth, the smell of coffee dripping slowly from the percolator, the sight of Jane in a little black dress and stocking feet - as she carelessly shook off the rain-coat and boots (so she had been preparing for a dinner out - even though she didn’t fancy the weather - and all in vain). But I was too preoccupied and frustrated, too tense and scared of myself - so I sat on the edge of the chair, still clutching my helmet, as an alien presence in this haven of light.
- Here’s what we’ll do, - she said now, putting a paint-stained apron right over her dinner-dress. - I make an omelet, you go off to the bathroom, take a hot shower, drop all your wet things there - I will put them into the dryer after we’ve eaten, and put on the robe that hangs there on the door. After that you may find us something to drink, should remember where the drinks are, shouldn’t you? And put somewhere this helmet already, it looks like you gonna take off from here any moment… You aren’t, are you? - She asked a little warily, as if she suddenly suspected I had some other plans for the evening after dining with her.
- No, Janey, I am not. But I don’t think it’s such a jolly idea… I mean, the shower seems nice, but, Jan, any bathrobe of yours won’t cover me any. I wouldn’t… hmm… - I felt a betraying blush creeping up my neck and onto the cheeks, - I wouldn’t want to… eh… abuse your sensibilities, - God, I sounded awful Victorian to my own ears, but how could I explain to her - standing before me with a childish naiveté written all over the elfish face - that good friends or not - wining and dining half-undressed with any woman right now was plainly unsafe for me, and unsafe for herself… And no, no, woman, don’t look at me with such innocent wonder, don’t come to me - you don’t know what you’re doing… Fuck it, Jane, fuck it - don’t sit on my lap!..
- Charlie, you’re such an idiot! - She said tenderly, brushing the moisture from my shoulder, - I wouldn’t offer you my robe, it’s a guest-robe and I have specially bought it in XXL so it would be fit for anyone, you nerd… But it’s good to have you here; it’s been a while since we’ve last met in person…
Shit, it really was - more than a year in fact…
Darn it, woman, no! Don’t dare hug me… Please, Janey, please…
I disentangled myself quite unceremoniously from her friendly hug, and felt immediate shame as my half crazed vision registered a moment of hurt in the wide blue eyes. The moment that came and went as the hurt was replaced by a quick concern.
- What is it, Charlie? - Just as I looked down, I realized that I had jumped to my feet.
- No, nothing… I will go and take the shower now, as you said…
But I didn’t go directly to the bathroom; instead I went through the living room on to the glassed-in terrace that served as a make-shift studio, and stood there ensconced in the darkness, my forehead pressed to the cool rain-splattered glass, lighting the second ciggy as the first one broke in my shaking fingers before I brought it to mouth, and dragging on it so hard like my life or sanity depended upon it. Which maybe they did. If there was any sanity left inside me. If there was any life. You bitch, let me go! Let me live! What have you done to me?.. Nothing, she did nothing, whatever was done I’d done it all by myself… I felt cornered. I felt like crying. I felt like I hated her guts, and I wanted her badly - to punish, and to adore, and to bring to the same kind of whimpering agony - look, that is what I feel, that is what you brought me to. I’m unable to work, I’m unable to meet with friends - you have robbed me of shame, of decency, of everything that I had been. Now I’m going to scare to death the girl I counted as one of my closest friends. Oh, you bitch, please, let me have some peace…
I heard the door open behind my back, I saw it reflected in the glass-pane - Jane standing gingerly on the door-step, but I was unable to move. The silence hung in the air as acid vapor, impossible to breathe. I probably wasn’t, my breath caught somewhere high in my throat as a solid clot.
- What is it, Charlie? What is the matter?
- Nothing… I mean, don’t worry, Janey, it’s nothing you said or did… Just leave me here, for awhile, I will come back as soon as I’m able…
- I know it’s not about me… - She was coming closer, weaving her way between the tripods and stuff and what not… Couldn’t be sure in the darkness as the door slammed closed. - Just… what is ailing you, Charlie? Can I help you?
- Not unless you are ready to get laid right here and now. - I tried to make it sound as a joke, and wasn’t sure if I succeeded. I was still refusing to turn around, silently wishing for her to go before I do or say something it would be impossible to excuse, even for close friend. Especially for a close friend. Instead she was drawing nearer still, her face so serious and concerned, her hand lifting up to touch on my shoulder.
- Janey! - I pleaded brokenly.
- You are such an idiot, Charlie… Now as I do not believe for a minute this sudden lust is for me, then it is really about another person?
I shivered as the warm pressure of her palm contradicted sharply to the cold of my still damp clothes, the sensation driving an erotic thunderbolt through my spine.
- Yes, Janey, - I managed, clutching at the bare edges of firm reality. - It is really about another person.
- Good, - she said so calmly as if it was just the thing she waited to hear. - Good, that you didn’t resort to lying - even for a politeness sake, for you can be deathly polite at times, - her chuckle resounded in the darkness, split into tiny echoes by my heightened perception. - Now, do come to me. Let me help.
Bitter laugh felt like a pain in my throat.
- God, Janey, dear, there is only one thing can help me now…
Sharp elbow stabbed me just below the ribs as she tried to insinuate herself between me and the window-panes, her size just small enough to let her fit in, for had she tried to move me it would have been once again - a cat and a Dane. Only it didn’t seem funny anymore with her pressed so close.
- What do you think I’m offering, you big silly jerk?
I looked at her upturned face - it was deadly serious, she meant what she said… I felt myself slipping, loosing any hang on reality - but God, it was Jane, sweet Jane…
- Janey, - I queried in the last attempt to warn her, - Jane, are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, no way - ever… Is it as simple as this? - The last tortured question torn from me as I felt her hand sneak under my jacket, under the T-shirt, hot and suddenly heavy on my sensitized skin, turning me inexorably, moving me, leading me somewhere… I didn’t care to protest any more, didn’t have the voice, didn’t remember the reason I might have spoken - a strange kind of apathy creeping on me, as if all my strength was now spent on holding for just a little bit longer.
This apathy made me go where I was led, sit on the edge of her half-covered bed, when she pushed me there, not making a move to undress, watching instead as she fought with the strings of her apron, pulled off the dress over the head - her gestures refreshingly matter of fact, she wasn’t trying to seduce me, and there was no need for it. No coyness, no foreplay, no showing off in most winsome position, no urgency either - or not that kind of urgency that makes two lovers fall in a formless mess of flailing limbs, ripping the clothes away in a frenzy of passion. And my desire seemed also frozen in time on some almost unbearable yet passive for now high point.
The moment suspended in time, in quiet - no sound hearable to me but my own breathing, light shuffle of her bare feet as she stepped out of her panties and turned to me, her face compassionate and a little sad. I couldn’t move - even breathing was almost beyond me now, as she took my jacket by the lapels, pushing it off my shoulders… She was saying something, but I couldn’t make sense of her words… Ah, she was prompting me to lift up my arms to pull off the T - and still, it were not her words but her actions that made me move… But it broke the spell somewhat and as my arms came free I gathered her close, suddenly gripped by the fear that I might hurt her - not in some psychological sense or whatever I meant before - but in a very real, very physical way - she seemed so tiny in my arms, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t…
- Janey… oh Janey, - The words were coming out punctuated - almost as sobs, as I buried my face in her breasts in the last attempt for restraint. - I hope you know that I can’t make it either gentle or long now… I wish I could… but I can’t…
Darn, man, at times I’m forgetting that this tale was meant as a letter to you. The recollections come of their own volition, and my love for detail makes it sound like a freaking old-fashioned novel. Strange, isn’t it how some days, even weeks now seem like a blur, I can’t tell what took place earlier, what later, and then some days - stand apart. This one was definitely one of the latter, that’s why it takes so long to describe. And even if I feel distinctly uncomfortable describing it now, it is crucial to see the kind of nightmare, the kind of torment I was in. Maybe I was overreacting, or still raw from the previous depression. But that was it. I was down and drowning, and don’t know whether I would have been able to come back up on my own. But - for the record - I’m not ashamed of it all, not of a single minute of it. That is one thing Jane taught me - to never be ashamed of what was, or the way that I felt. But I’m running ahead of the story. And that day was yet far from done.
I let her ride me - that was the most I could do to guard her - let her take me in herself at her own time. For a moment she hovered over, her own light skin flushed now as my desire ignited something within herself, her eyes unfocused and concentrated, searching something in my face and looking right through it at the same time. Then down she went in one strong thrust that made me arch toward her - almost in pain, our mouths meeting, tongues lashing, clashing, arms pressing our bodies so close together they seemed to fuse. Valkyria I called her already? She was, she was… A supple and hard rider, a real fighter, and an angel of mercy - all rolled in one…
In the end it did last long, despite what I told her - too long for both of us, as my desire - that I so fought to contain - now refused to come off, to let go at last - both of us drenched in sweet, both of us almost crying, almost cursing, me - almost wishing it never started for this new kind of agony was worse than the one before. I don’t know for what she wished. Then her climax came, its approach catching her unawares as she strived for mine - her tempo increasing, body tensing, face - loosing every expression as if the very eyes were now gazing at something inside herself, and then this convulsive ripple passing through her both outside and inside - leaving her drained of strength and bewildered for a moment, tears streaming down the cheeks as she raised her face from my chest, breath coming in sobs as she stubbornly started to move again - now for my sake only - and I think it was the sight of her face rather than any physical sensation, that had snapped some overtight spring within my body - bringing on a release that was as much pleasure as it was pain. We fell in a wet entangled heap on the sheets, exhausted and sobbing - both, but in the end it was her who had wits enough to cover us from the chilly air, and patience enough to hold me as I sobbed on - for a time unable to stop - until I was quiet. Sweet Jane - the most unlikely candidate for Mother Theresa or, come to that - the Earth Mother, that one could only come up with…
I must have napped a bit, probably no more then some 10-20 minutes, for when I woke she was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, fully clad - this time in a normal T-shirt and jeans, and busily sketching something on the notepad paper. Didn’t take much to guess what the subject of drawing was, as she looked up at my face, saw I was awake now and with a little disgruntled snort laid the paper aside.
- Can I see it?
She took the drawing, looked at it for a moment then held it out to me with a little shrug.
- Didn’t have much time to work on finer detail…
Yes, in fact it was little more than a rough sketch, but I found it surprisingly close - so much as I could judge, as we rarely have a chance to see ourselves with our eyes shut, yes, in movies of course, but I always had difficulty to recognize myself in the characters that I’d played.
- You’ve really caught the likeness…
- You are a good subject. Your features are defined very clearly, - she explained in answer to my muffled: “Oh, really!” - That makes you easy to draw. Wait, I wonder what you’d tell to this… - she came to the table, rummaging for a time in the overfilled drawers, then straightened triumphantly with another paper in hand. Sure enough, it was another drawing of me, made by her during my previous visit, bad quality paper already yellowish and brittle to the touch. On this one I was unmistakably deep in a drunken slumber, Jane’s pencil meticulously correct in depicting reality - I couldn’t even point a finger on what was it that contributed to the certainty - the mouth slightly opened as I slept on my back, or the expression of total blissful unthoughtfulness that was stuck on my face.
- Cruel, - I commented, giving the picture back.
- Really? I found you endearing. You were so relaxed. I’ve never seen you so relaxed in life.
I switched my gaze to the today’s picture. No, even though I was also sleeping here, no one would have called me relaxed on this one. And I looked definitely older. Cruel - this too.
I searched around the bed for my jeans and the cigarettes in their pocket. They were nowhere to be found.
- My clothes?
- I put them into the dryer. Probably dried already.
- Ciggies?
- Here, - she took them from the bed table and put on bed together with a lighter and ashtray. - Smoke here, - that said as I made a move to stand up, - I always do.
- Thanks, - I muttered, sitting up in bed and adjusting the covers. Now it was all finished I felt suddenly ashamed of my nudity, especially as she sat there dressed. - And for what you’ve done too.
- De nada, - she shook her head, taking a cigarette and bending over the lighter.
- No, you know perfectly well, it is not “de nada”. In the world that I live in… I mean, the girls that I had… - shit, however I put it, it sounded wrong, - I mean, everybody looks for a thing in return. It’s an exchange. Always. I do not even speak of something material, - I corrected myself - the uncomfortable recollection of my morning phone-calls resurfacing in my head. - I do not know. Relationship. Attention. Time spent together. Gifts. Calls. Going out. Pleasure to give back.
- You have given me pleasure, - she shrugged lightly, as if it was a viable answer.
- Not because I had tried to, - the thought of how I behaved was filling me with remorse. - You know I was way beyond caring what you felt.
She kept silence, though I noticed a small smile on her lips that spoke: “Really?” - so clearly, as if she really told it aloud. Jane dragged another time on her ciggy then turned to me as she spoke in an utterly serious tone:
- Must be really scary to live in your world… But if it eases your conscience - it was an exchange. - My face must have clearly betrayed my doubts, for she sighed and explained. - You were in pain, Charlie. Do you think it was very easy for me to see you in pain? When it was so easy to help? If someone were hungry, you’d give him your own food and never think twice of it, even if it meant that you will go hungry yourself. You know you would. Now, how is this different, apart that there isn’t even less of me for giving you what you needed? For Christ-sake, Charlie, we are friends!
- Common people morals would disagree with you, - I pointed out, though - put like this - what she’d done began to feel as less weight upon my conscience indeed - just another one of uniquely Jane’s sensible solutions. But still I was grateful - for her being what she was, for her being in my life… just grateful to be around her at the moment.
- You know I was never good in the common people things. - She smiled, catching my lighter mood and slid nearer to me on the bed, nestling comfortably under my armpit. And I should have been able to predict her next question, were I not so mellowed and soft:
- Care to tell me about this “another person”? It’s not even that I think I deserve it, as - I think, you need to share it with someone… sometimes it helps to see things clearly for yourself…
Continued in - Part 6
Having a set course of action had brightened my mood, and I almost sang it through taking a shower, picking a fresh if crumpled T-shirt out of my bag and wiping up the two-week’s load of dust from the sit of the bike. Just before leaving my housekeeper phoned me herself, no doubt surprised to find my incoming call registered on her phone, and promised to take care of the roof as soon as I’m gone to Philly. Everything - including the weather - seemed for a change so jolly and good that I found myself mistrustful of such a turn, inwardly tensing in preparation for whatever would go wrong.
Sure as hell, as I was approximately half way across the city I got stuck in the worst traffic jam that I’d seen for years, where even the maneuverability of the bike that was usually my saving grace in the situations like this didn’t help me much. I was pressed to the pavement side by side with the tourist bus and helplessly waited out under the admiring glances of ten-year old fans crowded to the windows (to the point I feared the bus would turn over right upon me) - till the jerky progress brought me to the nearest crossing that was free enough to serve as an escape route. Twisting and turning and squeezing between the fellow-escapees I was thinking only of finding a space for passage and it wasn’t until I felt I was finally out of road-crisis and running free that I started to recognize the surroundings - and hell, I was passing exactly the spot where I’d hailed the cab, just two streets removed from the café that had recently been the crux of all my waking nightmares and sweet dreams. “No, no, no, - I firmly said to myself, - no way you’re going to turn towards it. Your route is set. It is five in the afternoon, way, way early to go up there. And besides you were going to meet with Jane, dine her and wine her and talk with her on some safe philosophical subjects until you fall stone dead asleep on her old-old couch”. So valiantly I fought off the urge as some ancient Galahad of a mushy tale… (and whatever expletives you do know - insert them here).
For the damage was done, my sunny mood breaking with a loud bang, as I found - automatically riding on through and out of town that even though my bike did not make that silly and useless turn, my thoughts were not so easily swayed from the direction they favored - in simpler words - I was thinking about the café again, reliving in all the excruciating details the sensations of the yesterday’s evening - the waiting, the craving, the flush, the shame and above and before it all the blinding and maddening need.
I swerved to the side of the road and stopped the bike. Where was I going? Why? How could I appear on the doorstep of sweet Jane’s house horny and miserable, and not remotely fit for a friendly date? Then again - where else could I go but on to Jane? If there was other place that would offer a chance of sanity I couldn’t see it now. Maybe I could calm down, maybe her welcome company, sensible conversation, a pair of shots of tequila, sumptuous dinner… God, but I needed some peace!.. I was an idiot, granted, to call her… Yeah, maybe, maybe… but now I did - she was waiting, and what with the freaking jam I was running late as it was.
To contribute to my misery - the weather today seemed specially attuned to my every mood. No it didn’t rain actually (even though a thunderstorm seemed as an appropriate option), but as the evening approached clouds began to cover the sky anew and the air filled with droplets of suspended moisture, more a mist than a drizzle. It wouldn’t have been a nuisance at all if I had been walking, in fact - while I stood by the side of the road, smoking and thinking my rueful thoughts, I was rather enjoying the coolness of early evening and the softened contours of the surrounding hills. Jane would have made a beautiful water-color of such a landscape… Oh, yes, must hurry to Jane!.. And as I put on speed, my momentum gave the drops the penetrating force that they lacked on their own, so by the time I stopped the bike by the sweet Jane’s home, I was not only horny and miserable as I feared, but horny, miserable, wet to the bones and almost an hour late.
She must have been waiting, or else - heard the approaching bike on her perpetually deserted street, anyway - the door opened just as soon as I stopped the engine, a welcome rectangle of yellow light in the gathering dusk, and though I could not make out more than a silhouette, there was no mistaking a smile in her teasing voice:
- Gosh, Charlie, nobody but you could be riding motorcycle for a date on a day like this! - The raincoat-clad elfin woman got nearer, and I heard the irony replaced with a warm concern, - Man, you are soaking wet! Come on in and bugger the dinner, I can rig us a nice thick omelet in no time flat. Didn’t fancy going out anyway, seeing what the weather is, and what possessed you to ride a bike? Don’t you read the forecasts? Wanna catch cold and die and leave your fans bereft?
- There was sun during the day, - I protested weakly, as she pulled me by the hand into the house and straight into the warmth of the kitchen.
- There was sun for all of about two hours, and it’s been like this for a couple of days, - corrected she sternly. Come to think of it, I did wake up rather late in the afternoon, and it had been raining before that. And she made such a picture scolding me - like a cat that spits on a Great Dane. If only I could enjoy it wholeheartedly - the warmth, the smell of coffee dripping slowly from the percolator, the sight of Jane in a little black dress and stocking feet - as she carelessly shook off the rain-coat and boots (so she had been preparing for a dinner out - even though she didn’t fancy the weather - and all in vain). But I was too preoccupied and frustrated, too tense and scared of myself - so I sat on the edge of the chair, still clutching my helmet, as an alien presence in this haven of light.
- Here’s what we’ll do, - she said now, putting a paint-stained apron right over her dinner-dress. - I make an omelet, you go off to the bathroom, take a hot shower, drop all your wet things there - I will put them into the dryer after we’ve eaten, and put on the robe that hangs there on the door. After that you may find us something to drink, should remember where the drinks are, shouldn’t you? And put somewhere this helmet already, it looks like you gonna take off from here any moment… You aren’t, are you? - She asked a little warily, as if she suddenly suspected I had some other plans for the evening after dining with her.
- No, Janey, I am not. But I don’t think it’s such a jolly idea… I mean, the shower seems nice, but, Jan, any bathrobe of yours won’t cover me any. I wouldn’t… hmm… - I felt a betraying blush creeping up my neck and onto the cheeks, - I wouldn’t want to… eh… abuse your sensibilities, - God, I sounded awful Victorian to my own ears, but how could I explain to her - standing before me with a childish naiveté written all over the elfish face - that good friends or not - wining and dining half-undressed with any woman right now was plainly unsafe for me, and unsafe for herself… And no, no, woman, don’t look at me with such innocent wonder, don’t come to me - you don’t know what you’re doing… Fuck it, Jane, fuck it - don’t sit on my lap!..
- Charlie, you’re such an idiot! - She said tenderly, brushing the moisture from my shoulder, - I wouldn’t offer you my robe, it’s a guest-robe and I have specially bought it in XXL so it would be fit for anyone, you nerd… But it’s good to have you here; it’s been a while since we’ve last met in person…
Shit, it really was - more than a year in fact…
Darn it, woman, no! Don’t dare hug me… Please, Janey, please…
I disentangled myself quite unceremoniously from her friendly hug, and felt immediate shame as my half crazed vision registered a moment of hurt in the wide blue eyes. The moment that came and went as the hurt was replaced by a quick concern.
- What is it, Charlie? - Just as I looked down, I realized that I had jumped to my feet.
- No, nothing… I will go and take the shower now, as you said…
But I didn’t go directly to the bathroom; instead I went through the living room on to the glassed-in terrace that served as a make-shift studio, and stood there ensconced in the darkness, my forehead pressed to the cool rain-splattered glass, lighting the second ciggy as the first one broke in my shaking fingers before I brought it to mouth, and dragging on it so hard like my life or sanity depended upon it. Which maybe they did. If there was any sanity left inside me. If there was any life. You bitch, let me go! Let me live! What have you done to me?.. Nothing, she did nothing, whatever was done I’d done it all by myself… I felt cornered. I felt like crying. I felt like I hated her guts, and I wanted her badly - to punish, and to adore, and to bring to the same kind of whimpering agony - look, that is what I feel, that is what you brought me to. I’m unable to work, I’m unable to meet with friends - you have robbed me of shame, of decency, of everything that I had been. Now I’m going to scare to death the girl I counted as one of my closest friends. Oh, you bitch, please, let me have some peace…
I heard the door open behind my back, I saw it reflected in the glass-pane - Jane standing gingerly on the door-step, but I was unable to move. The silence hung in the air as acid vapor, impossible to breathe. I probably wasn’t, my breath caught somewhere high in my throat as a solid clot.
- What is it, Charlie? What is the matter?
- Nothing… I mean, don’t worry, Janey, it’s nothing you said or did… Just leave me here, for awhile, I will come back as soon as I’m able…
- I know it’s not about me… - She was coming closer, weaving her way between the tripods and stuff and what not… Couldn’t be sure in the darkness as the door slammed closed. - Just… what is ailing you, Charlie? Can I help you?
- Not unless you are ready to get laid right here and now. - I tried to make it sound as a joke, and wasn’t sure if I succeeded. I was still refusing to turn around, silently wishing for her to go before I do or say something it would be impossible to excuse, even for close friend. Especially for a close friend. Instead she was drawing nearer still, her face so serious and concerned, her hand lifting up to touch on my shoulder.
- Janey! - I pleaded brokenly.
- You are such an idiot, Charlie… Now as I do not believe for a minute this sudden lust is for me, then it is really about another person?
I shivered as the warm pressure of her palm contradicted sharply to the cold of my still damp clothes, the sensation driving an erotic thunderbolt through my spine.
- Yes, Janey, - I managed, clutching at the bare edges of firm reality. - It is really about another person.
- Good, - she said so calmly as if it was just the thing she waited to hear. - Good, that you didn’t resort to lying - even for a politeness sake, for you can be deathly polite at times, - her chuckle resounded in the darkness, split into tiny echoes by my heightened perception. - Now, do come to me. Let me help.
Bitter laugh felt like a pain in my throat.
- God, Janey, dear, there is only one thing can help me now…
Sharp elbow stabbed me just below the ribs as she tried to insinuate herself between me and the window-panes, her size just small enough to let her fit in, for had she tried to move me it would have been once again - a cat and a Dane. Only it didn’t seem funny anymore with her pressed so close.
- What do you think I’m offering, you big silly jerk?
I looked at her upturned face - it was deadly serious, she meant what she said… I felt myself slipping, loosing any hang on reality - but God, it was Jane, sweet Jane…
- Janey, - I queried in the last attempt to warn her, - Jane, are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, no way - ever… Is it as simple as this? - The last tortured question torn from me as I felt her hand sneak under my jacket, under the T-shirt, hot and suddenly heavy on my sensitized skin, turning me inexorably, moving me, leading me somewhere… I didn’t care to protest any more, didn’t have the voice, didn’t remember the reason I might have spoken - a strange kind of apathy creeping on me, as if all my strength was now spent on holding for just a little bit longer.
This apathy made me go where I was led, sit on the edge of her half-covered bed, when she pushed me there, not making a move to undress, watching instead as she fought with the strings of her apron, pulled off the dress over the head - her gestures refreshingly matter of fact, she wasn’t trying to seduce me, and there was no need for it. No coyness, no foreplay, no showing off in most winsome position, no urgency either - or not that kind of urgency that makes two lovers fall in a formless mess of flailing limbs, ripping the clothes away in a frenzy of passion. And my desire seemed also frozen in time on some almost unbearable yet passive for now high point.
The moment suspended in time, in quiet - no sound hearable to me but my own breathing, light shuffle of her bare feet as she stepped out of her panties and turned to me, her face compassionate and a little sad. I couldn’t move - even breathing was almost beyond me now, as she took my jacket by the lapels, pushing it off my shoulders… She was saying something, but I couldn’t make sense of her words… Ah, she was prompting me to lift up my arms to pull off the T - and still, it were not her words but her actions that made me move… But it broke the spell somewhat and as my arms came free I gathered her close, suddenly gripped by the fear that I might hurt her - not in some psychological sense or whatever I meant before - but in a very real, very physical way - she seemed so tiny in my arms, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t…
- Janey… oh Janey, - The words were coming out punctuated - almost as sobs, as I buried my face in her breasts in the last attempt for restraint. - I hope you know that I can’t make it either gentle or long now… I wish I could… but I can’t…
Darn, man, at times I’m forgetting that this tale was meant as a letter to you. The recollections come of their own volition, and my love for detail makes it sound like a freaking old-fashioned novel. Strange, isn’t it how some days, even weeks now seem like a blur, I can’t tell what took place earlier, what later, and then some days - stand apart. This one was definitely one of the latter, that’s why it takes so long to describe. And even if I feel distinctly uncomfortable describing it now, it is crucial to see the kind of nightmare, the kind of torment I was in. Maybe I was overreacting, or still raw from the previous depression. But that was it. I was down and drowning, and don’t know whether I would have been able to come back up on my own. But - for the record - I’m not ashamed of it all, not of a single minute of it. That is one thing Jane taught me - to never be ashamed of what was, or the way that I felt. But I’m running ahead of the story. And that day was yet far from done.
I let her ride me - that was the most I could do to guard her - let her take me in herself at her own time. For a moment she hovered over, her own light skin flushed now as my desire ignited something within herself, her eyes unfocused and concentrated, searching something in my face and looking right through it at the same time. Then down she went in one strong thrust that made me arch toward her - almost in pain, our mouths meeting, tongues lashing, clashing, arms pressing our bodies so close together they seemed to fuse. Valkyria I called her already? She was, she was… A supple and hard rider, a real fighter, and an angel of mercy - all rolled in one…
In the end it did last long, despite what I told her - too long for both of us, as my desire - that I so fought to contain - now refused to come off, to let go at last - both of us drenched in sweet, both of us almost crying, almost cursing, me - almost wishing it never started for this new kind of agony was worse than the one before. I don’t know for what she wished. Then her climax came, its approach catching her unawares as she strived for mine - her tempo increasing, body tensing, face - loosing every expression as if the very eyes were now gazing at something inside herself, and then this convulsive ripple passing through her both outside and inside - leaving her drained of strength and bewildered for a moment, tears streaming down the cheeks as she raised her face from my chest, breath coming in sobs as she stubbornly started to move again - now for my sake only - and I think it was the sight of her face rather than any physical sensation, that had snapped some overtight spring within my body - bringing on a release that was as much pleasure as it was pain. We fell in a wet entangled heap on the sheets, exhausted and sobbing - both, but in the end it was her who had wits enough to cover us from the chilly air, and patience enough to hold me as I sobbed on - for a time unable to stop - until I was quiet. Sweet Jane - the most unlikely candidate for Mother Theresa or, come to that - the Earth Mother, that one could only come up with…
I must have napped a bit, probably no more then some 10-20 minutes, for when I woke she was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, fully clad - this time in a normal T-shirt and jeans, and busily sketching something on the notepad paper. Didn’t take much to guess what the subject of drawing was, as she looked up at my face, saw I was awake now and with a little disgruntled snort laid the paper aside.
- Can I see it?
She took the drawing, looked at it for a moment then held it out to me with a little shrug.
- Didn’t have much time to work on finer detail…
Yes, in fact it was little more than a rough sketch, but I found it surprisingly close - so much as I could judge, as we rarely have a chance to see ourselves with our eyes shut, yes, in movies of course, but I always had difficulty to recognize myself in the characters that I’d played.
- You’ve really caught the likeness…
- You are a good subject. Your features are defined very clearly, - she explained in answer to my muffled: “Oh, really!” - That makes you easy to draw. Wait, I wonder what you’d tell to this… - she came to the table, rummaging for a time in the overfilled drawers, then straightened triumphantly with another paper in hand. Sure enough, it was another drawing of me, made by her during my previous visit, bad quality paper already yellowish and brittle to the touch. On this one I was unmistakably deep in a drunken slumber, Jane’s pencil meticulously correct in depicting reality - I couldn’t even point a finger on what was it that contributed to the certainty - the mouth slightly opened as I slept on my back, or the expression of total blissful unthoughtfulness that was stuck on my face.
- Cruel, - I commented, giving the picture back.
- Really? I found you endearing. You were so relaxed. I’ve never seen you so relaxed in life.
I switched my gaze to the today’s picture. No, even though I was also sleeping here, no one would have called me relaxed on this one. And I looked definitely older. Cruel - this too.
I searched around the bed for my jeans and the cigarettes in their pocket. They were nowhere to be found.
- My clothes?
- I put them into the dryer. Probably dried already.
- Ciggies?
- Here, - she took them from the bed table and put on bed together with a lighter and ashtray. - Smoke here, - that said as I made a move to stand up, - I always do.
- Thanks, - I muttered, sitting up in bed and adjusting the covers. Now it was all finished I felt suddenly ashamed of my nudity, especially as she sat there dressed. - And for what you’ve done too.
- De nada, - she shook her head, taking a cigarette and bending over the lighter.
- No, you know perfectly well, it is not “de nada”. In the world that I live in… I mean, the girls that I had… - shit, however I put it, it sounded wrong, - I mean, everybody looks for a thing in return. It’s an exchange. Always. I do not even speak of something material, - I corrected myself - the uncomfortable recollection of my morning phone-calls resurfacing in my head. - I do not know. Relationship. Attention. Time spent together. Gifts. Calls. Going out. Pleasure to give back.
- You have given me pleasure, - she shrugged lightly, as if it was a viable answer.
- Not because I had tried to, - the thought of how I behaved was filling me with remorse. - You know I was way beyond caring what you felt.
She kept silence, though I noticed a small smile on her lips that spoke: “Really?” - so clearly, as if she really told it aloud. Jane dragged another time on her ciggy then turned to me as she spoke in an utterly serious tone:
- Must be really scary to live in your world… But if it eases your conscience - it was an exchange. - My face must have clearly betrayed my doubts, for she sighed and explained. - You were in pain, Charlie. Do you think it was very easy for me to see you in pain? When it was so easy to help? If someone were hungry, you’d give him your own food and never think twice of it, even if it meant that you will go hungry yourself. You know you would. Now, how is this different, apart that there isn’t even less of me for giving you what you needed? For Christ-sake, Charlie, we are friends!
- Common people morals would disagree with you, - I pointed out, though - put like this - what she’d done began to feel as less weight upon my conscience indeed - just another one of uniquely Jane’s sensible solutions. But still I was grateful - for her being what she was, for her being in my life… just grateful to be around her at the moment.
- You know I was never good in the common people things. - She smiled, catching my lighter mood and slid nearer to me on the bed, nestling comfortably under my armpit. And I should have been able to predict her next question, were I not so mellowed and soft:
- Care to tell me about this “another person”? It’s not even that I think I deserve it, as - I think, you need to share it with someone… sometimes it helps to see things clearly for yourself…
Continued in - Part 6