Sacrifice Page 7

  Alice didn’t know what to say. She felt sorry for him; it seemed disgraceful that his only reward for diligence had been divorce. Eventually she offered, “Well, I guess that’s proof that she wasn’t a very genuine person, and you’re probably better off without her.”

  “That’s about the size of it,” he said, and shrugged. “You live and learn. But what about you? You never married?”

  The question caught her off guard, and at once she was fighting the temptation to scratch the phantom itch at her leg. “No,” she said rather feebly. “I almost did, but—”

  But what? a nasty voice inside her head asked. But it turned out that my fiancé only wanted me for my money. He was cheating on me the whole time…

  “—but things just didn’t work out.”

  Bob nodded understandingly, then ordered more drinks and—to Alice’s relief—used the break to change the subject. Alice sensed that he realized her own romantic status was something she didn’t want to talk about, and this struck her as distinctly thoughtful on his part. They spent the next hour, instead, discussing their most important trials and the differences in the kinds of law they practiced, during which she was able to focus on him with a far greater ease and much more clarity. Though the bar was loud and crowded, her interest in the things he had to say became so pinpointed that they seemed to be by themselves. The tavern’s din receded, the crowd drifted far away. She was also quite pleased with herself in that her participation in the conversation never lagged, never faltered, as was usually the case. She took more time, too, to subtly take closer note of him. She enjoyed the easy demeanor of his discourse, his mannerisms as he spoke, the gestures of his hands. He’s…cute, she finally admitted to herself. It was as though some aspect of her, some inhibition perhaps, had prevented her from seeing this previously.

  And another thing: not once, since the conversation had taken off, did she think of Steve.

  Eventually, Holly came over; Alice introduced her to Bob, who cordially rose and shook her hand.

  “Well, I’ve got to go now,” Holly dropped her bomb. “You don’t mind taking a cab, do you, Alice?”

  Why you premeditating bitch! Alice thought, but she didn’t let her composure fray. “Oh, no,” she said. “That’s no problem.”

  “I’d be happy to give you a ride,” came Bob’s offer, which Holly, no doubt, had planned all along.

  “Oh, thanks, Bob,” Holly said quickly, “and it was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow, Alice.”

  With that, Holly disappeared out the back door through the crowd while Alice, to herself, fumed. She set me up for this! She pushed me on this guy! The move was so overt, she hoped Bob didn’t feel obligated. “Really, I can take a cab—actually I could even walk. My house isn’t even a mile away.”

  “Won’t hear of it,” Bob replied. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  No point stewing about it, Alice concluded. What could she do now anyway? And it’s not like Bob’s a scrounge, she reminded herself. By now she found herself attracted to him in multiple ways.

  I can deal with this, she decided.

  Over the next hour she indulged herself with one more drink, then switched to diet Coke—she didn’t want him to think she was a lush—and it made her feel even more secure when he did the same. More easy talk ensued: recent cases of national note, allegations regarding a

  Supreme Court nominee, the good and bad points of award-limitations. Next thing she knew, a brass bell was ringing, and the barkeeps were announcing last call.

  “I think they’re trying to tell us something,” Bob observed.

  Alice, astonished, glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe how fast the night went.”

  “It must be my invigorating aptitude for conversation,” Bob jested.

  “Without a doubt,” Alice laughed back.

  “Not to mention my world-famous good looks.”

  “Oh, well that goes without saying.”

  Bob laughed. When he attempted to settle the tab Alice snatched the check away. “I won’t even make you twist my arm,” he said. “But at least let me leave the tip.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  “Well, if we don’t get out of here soon, I guess they’ll throw us out. Are you about ready?”

  Sudden anguish shot through her. Ready, she thought. Time to go. Time for him to drive me—

  But when she thought of home, of her new house, all the pain dissipated at once.

  “Yes,” she said more confidently than she’d probably said anything in a year. “I’m ready.”

  — | — | —

  8

  Entombed, it howled.

  The stone bowels of its cloister shuddered with its rage.

  So distant its release seemed, yet so near, like the gossamer membrane lining the shiny white of an eggshell.

  How vapid it seemed, how utterly stale…

  The smell of the world.

  Cast off my bonds, it pleaded feebly.

  Yes, the world smelled so stale from here. From its netherscape, it breathed deep, inhaling the bland fetor.

  Nothing.

  I will scratch through this place like a scab, it vowed.

  I will dig in to rich, warm lust that tortures my senses with its scent.

  So delectable…

  And so much else in wait!

  The world and all its myriad flavors, its robust carnality, its succulent aromas and spices of the flesh.

  The delicious cringing beneath its betrayal and the plump meat of its slickened lies like a mongrel licking at the rump of a fecund bitch…

  I will taste of it all.

  I will have it…all—

  ««—»»

  “Good God, I was going to say something really original, like ‘Nice place you got here,’” Bob remarked. “But…”

  Alice had felt it only proper to invite him in for the proverbial nightcap. She led him through the slate foyer to the living room, happy that her limp didn’t seem too terribly in evidence.

  “What a…gorgeous house,” Bob remarked. His eyes were everywhere at once: the plush carpet, the heavy mantel, the paintings and the paneling and the old wood rafters. He seemed genuinely impressed.

  “Thank you,” Alice replied. “All I’ve got, I’m afraid, is Diet Coke, soda water, and iced tea.”

  “Tea would be great,” he said, now investigating the framed, original oils on the walls.

  Just then the gold-and-crystal carriage clock chimed from the mantel, in exact unison with the great grandfather clock in the foyer. Two a.m.

  Alice prepared the drinks in the colonial kitchen. Common enough a task, but she couldn’t ignore a swift and unexpected giddiness, a fresh excitement she seemed to brim with. Christ, Alice, she tried to calm herself. You’re acting like a high-school majorette on her first date with the quarterback.

  But…what was she really thinking?

  You had a couple drinks with the guy, that’s all, she very quickly reminded herself. You had a nice chat, and he drove you home.

  But, still…

  At once she felt warm with other considerations.

  He’s a nice guy, yes, and he’s thoughtful and considerate and he has a lot in common with you and, yes, yes, Alice—he’s very nice-looking! But what on earth are you thinking?

  What?

  That she was going to sleep with him?

  Was that what she’d been thinking?

  Impossible. The notion, at the very least, seemed too distant, too unformed. Then more precise considerations came home to her.

  You had a few drinks with him, she repeated to herself. You talked to him for a little while…

  And that was all.

  Ice cubes clinked in the sink. She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing.

  Yeah, right, Alice. What? You’re going to seduce him? Lure him to your bed. What kind of opinion would he have of you then?

  It was just a fantasy. There was nothing wrong with that, at least according to Holly. And what
would Holly say?

  But before she could even attempt to answer herself, fantasy aside, a deeper consideration—her worst fear— landed hard.

  My leg. He probably doesn’t even know about it, he probably hasn’t noticed. What, Alice? Oh, by the way, Bob, before we get into the sack, I thought you might want to know that I have an artificial leg. That’s right, a piece of plastic that I stick onto the end of my stump.

  Her head shook at the thought, like a subtle migraine. In an instant, then, the night and all its pleasantries fell apart, ruined. A fine saucer of Depression glass dropped from clumsy hands to shatter on the floor.

  “Everything all right?” he inquired.

  “Yes, yes,” she called back. “Just clumsy.”

  She nearly did the same with the two glasses of iced tea when she walked back out to the living room. “Thanks,” he offered and took his, but then his eyes went back to examining the carved moldings, and the needlepoint draperies over the front window. “This place is perfect down to the last detail,” he complimented. “It’s like a genuine colonial home.”

  “You should’ve seen it when I bought it; it was really genuine then. It was falling apart. It took me months to get it fully refurbished. It’s a watch house,” she explained too quickly. “Sentinels would live here and watch for freighters coming from England with goods.” She took his arm, goaded him over. “Let me show you the best room in the house.”

  Alice, then, and without much thought as to what she was doing, urged Bob through the French doors to her bedroom.

  She neglected to turn on any lights…

  “Isn’t it a wonderful view?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Bob commented a bit uncertainly. “It is. It’s spectacular.”

  Through the great veranda panes, the bay shined. The moon hovered. A few dark boats sat anchored in the water, their tiny green helm lights blinking.

  It was all much more clear with the lights off. Bob must have noticed this easily enough. No doubt he also noticed the mahogany nightstand and dressing chest, and the pinecone poster bed.

  Only then did Alice realize what she’d done.

  I just hauled him into—into my—my bedroom!

  Alice went rigid. She raced to say something, to offer an excuse, an explanation—anything. What must he think of her?

  But, then, next—

  At once, she felt bathed in a prickly heat. She felt dizzy, hot, disoriented. Her hand raised to turn on the lamp atop the nightstand halted, then fell away. She was looking straight at Bob.

  And Bob was looking straight at her.

  Their eyes widened. Nothing was verbalized—nothing had to be. The twilit darkness in the room grew palpable as a pair of hands. It nudged them, urged them simultaneously, drew them together in a warm, flustered slowness like the anticipatory fetters being tied to an impassioned lover’s ankles and wrists. And then—

  They embraced. Their arms slithered around each other’s backs, and their opened mouths joined. Alice could’ve fainted at the feel of his body so tightly pressed against hers. She tightened her embrace, and he tightened his. This rough and intimate pressure, incredibly, made her feel that she might come right there.

  Their kisses turned more fervid, then…more brazen. Their tongues collided, Bob’s embrace squeezing Alice’s breasts against his firm chest. Unconsciously, they turned as they stood…

  Oh…

  The moon in the window blazed in Alice’s eyes. She began to suck Bob’s tongue as her hand drifted down.

  The darkness seemed grainy, the air around her gusting like hot breath. It chased her inhibitions away, her fears and insecurities. She felt like someone else entirely, not a phobic but a plush, unbridled woman charged with desire. In another moment her bra-cupped breasts were exposed and eventually she realized, with Bob’s hands still coursing up and down her back, that she had been the one who’d unfastened her blouse.

  Was it the alcohol that had toppled her insecurities? No, she didn’t think so—she’d barely drunk at all. The medication then?

  No, she thought. The latest prescription was a very low dose. In fact, Holly had said that she probably didn’t need it anyway.

  So what was it?

  It’s…me, she realized vaguely, and this realization made her happy. And what was so wrong with that? This wasn’t wrong, was it? How could her natural desires be wrong? For the first time in a year, and perhaps much more, she felt like a real woman.

  She tugged off Bob’s shirt as he slipped off her blouse, and in even less time she released the center snap of her bra.

  His hands found her breasts as quickly. The darkness seemed to guide him, but…wasn’t that a queer thought? The first touch of his hands on her bared breasts sent a sudden course of heat from her chest to her groin. But Alice felt guided herself, driven now, desperate in her own prickling heat to move on. With his tongue still deep in her mouth, she unbuckled his belt, unfastened his slacks, and let her hand find its way in.

  “I—” Bob murmured. “I have a—”

  “What?” she breathed into the crook of his neck.

  “I have a condom…”

  “Give it to me,” she said immediately.

  The gumption of this, the forwardness and the audacity—what she once would have considered unthinkable…

  Never registered.

  He remained standing before her when she sat down on the edge of the bed. Pulled down his slacks. Slid down his undershorts. Leaned forward and—

  Opened her mouth.

  The lewdest terms, then, scuttled in her mind. I’m sucking his penis, she thought. I’m blowing him…

  He moaned, his hands roving her hair.

  Alice’s senses felt remote as she continued. She could feel the moon on the side of her face. His pubic hair tickled her nose and his testicles, cupped in her left hand, seemed to ooze heat. Then she held out her other hand, paused, and repeated in a parched whisper, “Give it to me.”

  As he fumbled in his lowered slacks, Alice gingerly removed her jeans, leaned back up, teased him some more with her mouth. He gave her the packet, which she immediately snapped open. She grew short of breath slipping out the condom, casting the empty packet to the floor, then rolling the oily sheath down over his shaft.

  Then she lay back, parting her legs. Drenched desperation squeezed the words from her mouth.

  “Now…please…”

  Bob obliged, breathing heavily himself. He lay down atop her, his penis slipping right in without the aid of his hands or hers, like something instinctive. Alice moaned— at once she felt weighed down by the hot pressure, pressed into the bed. His strokes commenced in a maddening slowness, his upper body propped up above her by his arms.

  “God, you feel good,” he said. Sweat dripped off his face onto her bare breasts. The bed began to rock, and in its rocking her pleasure mounted, each stroke burrowing deeper into her flesh. He hadn’t even noticed her prosthesis, or perhaps he had but he didn’t care. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Someone caring. For a change, someone real.

  Alice whined now. She wanted it harder, faster. Her fingers dug into his clenched buttocks. She raised her legs to a high, wide-open V.

  Then—

  Slap!

  “What the—?” Bob said, looking over his shoulder.

  Alice nearly shrieked when he withdrew himself from her, her legs still in the air, her hands sliding off his sides. What had happened?

  Distracted, he stood up at the edge of the bed and looked down.

  But Alice was looking up, wondering what was wrong.

  Then she saw…

  As he stood his condomed penis pointed at her. But then, there was something pointing at him, too, wasn’t there?

  Her stump.

  Her prosthesis had…fallen off, had hit him in the back. And when he fully realized this, staring at the stump still hovering—

  Oh, my…

  His erection went slack at once.

  “Look, I didn’t know,” he babbled, stepping a
way. “I just can’t—I just can’t—I’m…sorry…”

  Alice’s face spread like a disbelieving, hot mass. Silent tears welled in her eyes.

  Her legs lowered to the bed.

  Bob hauled his clothes back on in short order. “I’m really sorry,” he said as he was walking away, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

  — | — | —

  9

  “Well?” was all Holly said when Alice walked into her office the next morning.

  “Well, what?”

  “Well, how did it go? With that guy—what was his name? Bob?”

  “It went—” Alice sat down, but before she could even say terrible, she broke into tears.

  “What happened?” Holly asked.

  Alice, in teary bursts of words, recounted the entire story.

  And at the end of it all, Holly merely…shrugged.

  Even in her obvious distraction Alice wanted to go on a rage. She shrugged! That’s all she did! She SHRUGGED!

  “You’re going to have to start being a lot more real than you’re being now, Alice,” said the cool psychiatrist. “Look at you. You’re falling apart.”

  “What do you expect me to do!” Alice shrieked.

  “You’re falling apart, and why is that? Because of one bad experience with some guy—”

  “It’s more than that!” Alice loudly objected.

  “No, it’s not. One guy, one instance, and that’s all it was. It’s no big deal, Alice.”

  “No big deal? He was repulsed by me!”

  “So what?” Holly replied, her fingers steepled primly on her desk blotter. She was the calm in the middle of Alice’s storm: composed, rock-solid. “Okay, the guy freaked out. Your leg caught him off-guard; he didn’t know how to react, so he did what men frequently do—he bolted. Rather than confronting the situation, he exited the situation. These things happen all the time, Alice—not just to you, not just to people with artificial legs— to everyone. It’s part of life, and an equally important part of life is understanding the simple fact that sometimes we get our feelings hurt.”