Killing Johnny Fry (15 page)

I knew that I was going to die but I wasn‘t exactly sure why. It had something to do with me not being responsible. There was a phone ringing somewhere. I was drifting slowly toward the floor. It was a known fact that once I‘d rolled out of the chair, I‘d never get to my feet again.

“Hello?"

“Cynthia?"

“Cordell? Is that you? How are you?"

How are you?

All it took was her asking after my well-being, and the pain lifted—completely. I wiped the mucous, tears, and drool from my face and took a very deep breath in through my mouth. The air felt really good in my lungs. The world was filling with possibilities.

“Cordell?"

“Yes, yes, Cynthia. I‘m sorry if it‘s late, but I just had to call. My head."

“What happened?"

I told her about my talk with Jo, about her uncle and her brave sacrifice to keep her family alive.

“So I couldn‘t tell her about what I knew,” I said at the end of the long tale. “I mean, she was in so much pain already, and obviously she couldn‘t control herself."

“It sounds as if she‘s in full control,” Cynthia said. “She said that she couldn‘t get a job."

“She was only fourteen,” I said defending my girlfriend as a child.

“When it began,” Cynthia said. “But she was seventeen when her uncle . . . Bernard?"

“Yes."

“When her uncle Bernard took the family away. A seventeen-year- old could have found a job. And from what you said, she felt that she had some power over Rex. She never told anyone and she received his letters without turning him over to the police. It would be interesting to know what he wrote in those letters."

“It doesn‘t matter,” I said. “She was a victim of sexual abuse. She couldn‘t turn him in because of what he did to her mind."

“That‘s no excuse for what she did to your trust,” Cynthia said with conviction.

“You‘re a woman too,” I exclaimed. “How can you say such a thing?"

“Because,” Cynthia said, “if I forgave her, then I would have to forgive Rex for his actions. He was abused you say. He was sold into prostitution and mistreated by his grandmother. Can I tell you that he should therefore be forgiven for what he did to your girlfriend?"

“That doesn‘t mean that Jo is not a victim. I don‘t care about Rex."

“I don‘t either,” Cynthia said. “Neither do I care about Joelle. All that concerns me is you, Cordell. You are the one in pain. You are the man in need of trust and love. I feel for the pain you brought to me when I first heard your voice tonight."

“Yeah,” I said. “Why did it just go away like that? I thought I was gonna buy it before you answered."

“Because you know that I am here for you,” she said. “I‘m not going to lie or try to fool you out of your money. I‘m not going to betray you. Your pain was the onset of the despair we experience when we are marooned in life."

“Are you sure you‘re not a therapist?” I asked the dial-a-friend.

“No,” she replied. “The benefactor who funds this service doesn‘t want psychological professionals manning the lines. He wants people who will listen and also care."

I inhaled again, taking in a great quantity of air. Then I began crying and couldn‘t stop. I fell onto the floor and rolled into fetal position. My chest was wracked with sobs. My face hurt from the contortions it went through.

When the bawling began to ebb, Cynthia asked, “Can you talk now, Cordell?"

“Call me L,” I said. “And yes, I can talk some."

“Are you angry at your girlfriend?"

“I don‘t know. Yesterday I would have said yes. But now . . . I don‘t know."

“What about her boyfriend?"

“I hate him,” I said. “I hate him. But I can‘t pay attention to that."

“Why not?"

“Because the more I feel, the crazier I get. All the wild sex I‘m having with Jo, and then there‘s the night with Lucy. And my obsession with
The Myth of Sisypha.
I‘m losing control."

“What‘s that last name you said?” Cynthia asked.

“It‘s this X-rated film I bought,
The Myth of Sisypha.
There‘s a woman in it, the star. I can‘t explain it, but she seems to understand."

“Understand what?"

“I only watched a few scenes,” I said, “but I can‘t stop thinking about the woman and what she‘s doing to her husband. It‘s brutal, but I keep thinking that he needs someone, that I need someone to, to . . . I don‘t know—to wake me up."

“Hm You say that you‘re losing control,” Cynthia said. “But maybe what you‘re doing is finding your way."

“This isn‘t my way, Cynthia. I don‘t have semisecluded sex in the park and follow after another man with my own girlfriend. I don‘t quit my job on a whim and start a new profession that I know absolutely nothing about."

“But you have done all of that,” Cynthia said. “I think what you have to do is trust your own heart. You‘re alone, L. You‘re looking for contact somewhere in the world. Sex is the first step to that contact. Don‘t abandon it.
Jo
hasn‘t. She found a lover to fill the void of her loss and longing. She took you where she needed you to be."

I couldn‘t argue. If I was to forgive Jo, then I‘d have to forgive myself too. And I was lonely, desperately lonely.

“But isn‘t indiscriminate sex using people?” I asked.

“People work together all the time,” Cynthia replied. “They use each other to make their lives whole. A mother walks down the street with a year-old toddler in her arms. The baby sees a big beautiful woman and reaches out his arms for her. The baby hugs this woman‘s neck and kisses her cheek. But the child has not abandoned the mother. The beautiful woman is elated by the love shown her through this child. There‘s nothing wrong with people helping each other, loving each other."

“I guess I never felt anybody loves me like that,” I said feeling simultaneously shy and self-absorbed.

“Then it‘s time you felt it,” Cynthia said. “Take your journey, L. Don‘t be afraid to reach out."

On the answering machine I had three messages. One was an offer to consolidate my credit card debt into a new card that would charge only 2 percent interest for the first sixty days. The second was from Sasha Bennett.

“Hi, Cordell,” she said. “I just sent Enoch off in a taxi. I‘m in my apartment all night. Any time you‘d like to drop by, I‘d be happy to see you."

The third call was from Jerry Singleton again.

“I can‘t believe that you‘re being this unprofessional, Cordell. I‘ve had to scramble all week just to get somebody to cover this meeting. You should at least call me to explain yourself."

After erasing those messages, I was worried that the headache would return. I was expecting pain but all I felt was depletion. Every part of my body, down to my fingers, felt weak and tired.

Still I managed to call a number.

“Hello,” she said on the third ring.

“I love you, Jo,” I said.

“Does that mean it‘s over?"

“No. Why would you think that?"

“I thought you were going to say that you have to let me go because of what I did, because you‘re so disgusted with me."

“No,” I said. “I‘ll be there tomorrow at three."

“Oh,” she said. “Oh. Are you sure?"

“Of course I am. It‘s not your fault what your uncle did."

“That‘s not what they used to say in my mother‘s church,” Jo whispered.

“No? What did they say there?"

“That a man couldn‘t be evil alone,” she said. “Men create evil between themselves."

She answered the door only moments after I knocked. All she wore was a white T-shirt that came down to just above her knees.

“I was expecting you,” she said.

It was 2:22 in the morning.

Sasha took my hand and led me to a brown chaise longue that sat near an open window. The apartment was lit by several dozen candles and four glass-encased oil lanterns.

“I lit all the lights for us,” she said. “Enoch left early, but I didn‘t care. All I‘ve been thinking about for days is getting together with you."

She stood at the end of the backless sofa and reached down to the hem of her white T-shirt. Two of the lanterns stood on a table to the right, and so, when she pulled the shirt up to her belly button, I got a clear view of her wide hips and dense pubic hair.

Sasha wasn‘t fat but she had a generous woman‘s figure. She sat back on the chaise longue, bringing her left foot up so that her vaginal lips and clitoris were presented deliciously.

Without a word, I sank to my knees and gently sucked the engorged clitoris into my mouth, enough to get my tongue up under the hood.

Sasha let out a groan that reverberated around the gutted apartment.

I spent many long minutes in that groaning room licking and sucking her perfectly formed pussy. It was leaking big dollops of tangy fluid. When I would get down and run my tongue from the bottom back up to the clit, she‘d say, “Swallow the come, baby. Drink it all down. I want you to eat me up."

I swallowed as she commanded, smacking my lips so that she knew what I was doing.

While I was still flicking my tongue over the erect clit, Sasha moved back and sat up.

“Stand in front of me,” she said.

I did as she asked, and she pulled down my pants and underwear with one expert yank. I realized then that I had lost weight in the last few days.

My cock was standing straight out. I stared down at it and at Sasha‘s face beyond. It seemed to me a miracle to be there. The fact that Sasha wanted to be with me was what made me so hard.

There was a small drawer in the table next to the chaise. This she opened, taking out a rubber dildo, a ceramic cup filled with some kind of fluid, and a small square packet containing a condom.

She ripped open the condom and took hold of my erection, gently looping the rubber over the head.

While she rolled the band down on me, she said, “The dildo has been boiled and washed. It‘s completely sterilized."

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked her.

“Put that big fat cock inside me,” she commanded.

I got on top of her and did what she said. It surprised me how tight she was. Much more so than Jo or Lucy. I imagined that all her lovers had small members, and this for some reason excited me.

“Not so fast, Cordell,” Sasha whispered in my ear.

Instantly I slowed my beat.

“Look at my right hand,” she said.

I saw that she was holding the dildo, dipping it into the ceramic bowl. When she took the thing out, I could see that the liquid was thick and viscous.

“It‘s the best lubricant,” she breathed.

Then she moved the dildo behind me, where I couldn‘t see it. But I felt the thick oil falling into the crack of my ass and flowing down over my balls. There it seemed to heat up a little.

I groaned loudly so as not to increase my pace.

“That‘s right,” Sasha said. “Fuck it slow like you love that pussy. Take it all the way out and then come in again like your big dick is kissing it again and again and again."

Every time she said the word, I reentered her. This obeisance caused both of us great joy.

“It‘s so tight,” I hissed.

She got more oil and dribbled it over my ass.

The heat became greater.

Then I felt the head of her dildo press against my rectum.

“Get ready, baby,” she said. “I‘m gonna shove it all in, all at once. Then you‘re going be in control. If you don‘t want it too deep, don‘t pull out so much when you fuck that cunt. If you can keep it to short deep thrusts, you won‘t have to take too much."

“What if. . . “ I said, and then she pressed the full length of the phallus into my rectum, filling it up.

It didn‘t hurt exactly, but felt like I had to defecate. It was as if an empty space that I had never considered was suddenly completely filled.

“Do you feel it, baby?” Sasha whispered in my ear.

“Yes."

“Then fuck it. Fuck it hard."

Her words were in complete control of my mind. I rose up above her and pounded down on her sex like that was my one purpose in life. When I was just about to come, she moved the dildo around in a wide circle inside me. It was as if someone had grabbed me by the insides and pulled me back. My body faltered and my cock came out of her, hovering above the opening as I tried to compensate for the new feelings inside me.

“I‘m going to move it around again,” she whispered. “Okay?"

I nodded, holding my breath.

I thought that I‘d be ready the next time, but the broad arc
of
the dildo made me grunt like a wild boar. Before the spasms left my body, Sasha whispered, “Fuck me, Daddy."

Daddy.

As I came in and out of her tight pussy, her dildo went in and out of me. The harder I fucked her, the more she plunged the gray-and-white phallus into me. Whenever I began to cry out, she moved the thing in a circle, effectively stopping any orgasm.

“How does your cock feel?” she asked.

“Bigger than it‘s ever been."

“Tell me you love me."

“I love you,” I tried to say but the words got stuck on a sob in my throat.

At that moment, she pulled the dildo out, and my rectum went into a painful spasm.

“Keep fucking, Daddy,” Sasha ordered.

I tried to do as she said, but the pain threw off my equilibrium. I jammed myself into her and then stopped, pulled out again, went in again, came out and stopped. By then she had sopped her dildo with thick oil again. When she pressed the thing back into me, my beat came back—hard.

“You need that to keep you fucking me fast,” she said smiling up at me.

“Yes Mama, yes Mama, yes Mama, yes,” I chanted.

And for a maybe three minutes I experienced pure sex. My body was slick with sweat. Hers was too. There were pains in my back and left foot, but I couldn‘t stop bucking on top of that woman unless someone was to knock me off.

When my beat went off again, and I began to cry out in a language I knew but did not understand, I thought that she‘d moved her dildo around to stop me from coming. I was expecting the broad, painful sweep, but instead Sasha said, “Stand up quickly."

I obeyed, teetering a little on my feet.

With her teeth Sasha ripped off the head of the colorless condom. She held the base of my cock with her left hand and used the right to massage the shaft. Almost immediately I felt the orgasm begin. My rectum tightened and the dildo popped out of my ass. When I began to ejaculate, Sasha squeezed the head so that the thick white fluid came out in a powerful stream, as if I were urinating.