Malcolm and Juliet (7 page)

‘Deciding who I wouldn’t want to have sex with would be more of a problem,’ Malcolm admitted. ‘I’m not even sure you’re safe.’

‘You must be able to do better than follow in your father’s footsteps,’ she replied, apparently more interested in the colour of the water draining from a pair of socks. ‘How’s it been so far anyway?’

‘What?’

‘The sex.’

‘I haven’t had any yet.’

‘So why am I doing all this washing?’

‘Practice.’

‘It doesn’t make perfect you know.’

‘No, but it passes the time. Actually, how was it for you, Mum, the first time you had sex? It wasn’t with Dad was it?’

‘Good Lord no!’ His mother laughed in a way Malcolm was sure his father wouldn’t have wanted to hear. ‘It was at a party.’

‘Do you mind if I film this? The camera’s just in the kitchen.’

‘If you help me hang this lot out later.’

‘Deal.’

Malcolm got the camera and steadied it on his shoulder. There wasn’t much room in the laundry and he had to shoot from the side. His mother continued to scrub as she spoke, her hands on automatic while her eyes gazed into the past through the small window over the sink.

‘We used to go to parties all the time at this one great old place out in the country. There was this chap across the road, a friend of the family, who would ask me along and I would go, as much out of a sense of duty as anything.

‘It was a simple arrangement, the sort that can only come from being with someone you could never fancy. His hands were too big and he looked confused when he smiled. Not that it mattered too much who you went with. You maybe danced with them a couple of times but in reality we were all free to hunt alone.

‘Back then, being in such a small town, there was a whole ritual to the thing, and I liked that; waiting round to be invited to dance, and the other invitations which inevitably followed.

‘
Wanna go out the back?
was easy enough. All that was being proposed was a drink behind the house, where half the party always ended up. Or you could be asked
down the barn
where, it was well enough understood, kissing and groping would be on the cards. Finally there was
wanna come to the river?
where right of entry was being requested, as it were.

‘I suppose I always lived a little in hope and a little in fear of that sentence, from someone who liked the smell of you, or the way you moved. I’d been asked before, twice in fact, but both times I’d said no, because they deserved it.

‘But this particular chap was quite sweet I remember, nervous when it came down to asking, which I liked. He was very tall and he had to bend right down to be heard over the music. “Wanna come to the r…, r-barn?” he asked, losing his nerve and pulling out half way.

‘“I’d prefer the river tonight to be honest,” I replied. The look on his face, I can tell you. I’d been drinking a little by then, and we both drank a little more before we left the house. We found ourselves a hollow beneath a tree on the bank of the river, although in fact it wasn’t much more than a muddy creek.

‘It was a still night and I could make out the occasional whisper or groan from voices I half recognised. I let out a few of my own, just to let the chap know his efforts were appreciated. Gosh, it all seems so long ago now.’

She managed to wipe the smile from her face but it lingered in her eyes. Malcolm faded out.

‘Thanks Mum. I think that will come out really well.’

‘Not half as well as it did in real life, I can tell you. You know, we really ought to think about getting you started. Have you thought about Juliet? She’d be a good place to begin. She’d be kind to you. Why don’t you ring her?’

‘Well, I had thought about it,’ Malcolm confided. ‘But what if she says no? I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship.’

‘You thinking SEX every time you see her will ruin it more. Go on, give her a ring. Your father and I can go out. You can use our bed if you like. Yours is very small.’

‘She’s used to that.’

‘Ring her now, while I’m down here doing the washing, so I’m not tempted to listen in.’

And so Malcolm found the courage to make a second approach. It could work. Juliet could be his teacher, Charlotte his examination. It seemed reasonable enough, so long as he didn’t think too hard. And his mother was quite right, it would be far easier over the phone.

His mother was also a great liar, and while poor nervous Malcolm dialled up his request she slipped into the kitchen and listened to every word.

‘Oh, hi, is Juliet there please? Oh, it is you. No, I don’t know who I thought it might be, you sound different, that’s all, or maybe I’m just listening differently, you see I’m feeling a bit nervous…Yes, yes I know I should…Look, the thing is, I was wondering if you might do me a bit of a favour…Yes, well you might not say that when you hear what it is…Um, no, of course not. I was more just wondering if you might have sex with me—please…Well, I have to start somewhere don’t I, and you’re my best friend, and you don’t scare me as much as other girls…No, no I wouldn’t want a relationship or anything, I just need to practise, that’s all. Mum says you can come over here…Well, it was sort of her idea to be honest…I don’t know, tonight maybe? Oh, well could we do it before? How long does it take about? Yeah, you’re right. Best to be on the safe side…Yeah, yeah seven-thirty then…No, I hadn’t thought so, but I suppose I should, it’d be more scientific. I’ll wipe the tape if I’m not any good…Oh yeah, Juliet, what should I wear?…No, you’re right, I don’t suppose it does… Okay, well thanks then. Ah, bye.’

As soon as Malcolm hung up he had to sit down, before his legs gave way. She’d actually said yes. It was going to happen. He was almost feeling good about the whole thing again.

Transactions

Juliet didn’t feel good about calling back. Malcolm was, exactly like he’d said, a good friend. And even if he hadn’t been, she had a feeling that what she was about to propose involved crossing one of those boundaries which you can never cross back.

Then again, this was not a time of normal rules. Malcolm’s proposal had hardly been normal. So maybe he was the one who’d crossed the boundary, and taken them both into a world where new rules applied. Or maybe it was just fate, finding a way of apologising for all the treading on toes it had been doing lately. Yes, that was exactly it, she told herself as she picked up the phone. Fate had been taking dancing lessons.

Malcolm answered straight away which Juliet took to be a good sign. She hoped his mother wasn’t hovering in the background, the way she often did. This transaction was strictly between her and Malcolm, and whoever it was who kept record of the stains upon her soul.

‘You’ve changed your mind haven’t you?’ Malcolm said, as soon as he heard her voice. ‘It’s all right, I knew you would. It was really an entirely unreasonable thing to ask. I hope this isn’t going to damage our friendship.’

‘No, no of course I haven’t changed my mind,’ Juliet assured him. ‘It’s just there’s something I forgot to mention, which needs to be discussed.’

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Well,’ Juliet said, wondering if just uttering the words wouldn’t change her life forever. ‘We need to discuss the price.’

There was a pause, a very long pause. Long enough for Malcolm to have fled the scene, or called up the police on the other line. Technically it was illegal, wasn’t it?

‘Malcolm? Malcolm? Are you still there?’

‘Yes. I was just thinking. I find it’s not a good idea to trust your first instincts, in times of great surprise.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve really offended you, haven’t I?’

‘No,’ came the reply, his voice slow and considered. ‘In fact, now that I think about it, it’s something of a relief. I think, if I didn’t pay you, it might feel sort of dirty, like I was using you. No, upon reflection, this will be much better. I will feel happier all round. Um, how much were you thinking?’

Good old Malcolm. If he hadn’t been 2.6 km away just then she would have hugged him, for free.

‘Well I don’t suppose it would be a good idea to charge by the minute. How about one hundred dollars, all up?’

‘Um, one second,’ and another pause. ‘Yeah, that sounds fine. Mum says she’ll pay half.’

Spent

Malcolm’s excited half had been at war with his terrified half ever since he’d put down the phone and, by the time Juliet arrived, a truce of sorts had been achieved. He had settled on being terrified of his excitement and letting the terror excite him all the more.

He didn’t know where to look when she walked into the room. By then he had been holding his greeting pose for exactly three minutes (cruel of her to be late like that) and the smile he managed was partly due to cramp. The camera was set up, further back than usual so as to capture the whole bed, and he had draped a towel over the mirror. The curtains were pulled shut.

On the clothing front he had gone for a casual look, T-shirt and jeans, and his favourite boxer shorts, fresh on. He lay across the bed, feet dangling off the end, head up and supported by his arm. Next to his elbow sat five $20 notes.

‘Hi,’ he said. The word rushed out of his mouth, only to be tripped by his tongue and fall awkwardly to the floor. He was relieved to see Juliet had also decided against dressing up. No kickboxing whites or
Pretty Woman
red for her. Just jeans, because Juliet was a jeans girl, and a large loose jacket type thing which she always wore. ‘Ah, here’s the money.’ He sat up and handed her the notes and as their fingers touched a small electric charge stood the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He’d decided against shaving them.

‘Oh, right, thanks.’ It was easy to see the money made Juliet feel uncomfortable. That was good, it made things more even.

‘You’re a little bit late,’ Malcolm said, because it was all he could think of and the silence was choking him. ‘It isn’t very professional.’

It was meant to be a joke but Malcolm watched it burn up and crash to the floor. Tonight nothing would be easy.

Juliet sat herself on the end of the bed. The room was thick with sex and money, making it hard to breathe.

‘Well then,’ said Juliet, looking at her watch. ‘I guess we should make a start.’

‘Um, could we talk a bit first?’ Malcolm asked.

‘Oh, suppose so. You’re the customer after all. What shall we talk about?’

‘I’m not sure. In fact I’m totally without a clue when it comes to this sort of thing. What do people usually talk about before sex?’

‘I think they mostly tell each other lies.’

Malcolm lay back down and Juliet eased along the bed so she was sitting close to his stomach. When he looked up to her face he was confronted by the rise of her chest only centimetres above him.

‘You could tell me how much you like me, for instance.’

‘But I do.’

‘Well done. Tell me why.’

‘Because you’re not like the other girls.’ Malcolm relaxed a little. Talking was taking his mind off the woman beneath her clothes, and the child beneath his. ‘And you’re my friend aren’t you? How am I doing?’

‘Not bad, for a beginner.’

‘I’ve been doing a lot of reading. What should I say next?’

‘Tell me why I should have sex with you.’

‘I paid you, remember?’

‘But if you hadn’t.’

‘Well, I’m keen to learn, and I think you might be a good teacher.’

‘Not very romantic.’

‘I’m sorry. I knew I’d be no good at this.’ Malcolm got up from the bed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I don’t know. I think I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Don’t be silly. Come back here. We’ll skip talking. It’s not that important.’

Juliet took off her jacket. Beneath it she was wearing a small black top with thin straps and, Malcolm was fairly certain, no bra. His mouth went dry. He coughed and made a sound that might have been the beginning of a word.

‘What was that?’ Juliet asked.

‘Um, nothing.’ Malcolm could feel his face burning up. ‘Um, should I take my clothes off?’

He tried desperately to remind himself that this was science, that discipline and exactitude were all that mattered, but his body refused to listen.

‘Not yet.’ Juliet spoke gently, as if she could sense his rising panic. ‘Come here.’

She held out her arm and he lay down beside her, slowly letting his body settle against hers. He was aware of every point of contact: the sweat building on his inside leg, where it rested against her thigh, the place on his arm where skin met skin, the flattening of her breasts against him, the heavy warmth of her breath and his impossibly anxious erection. He tried not to think of any of these things but they swirled about inside his head, a psychedelic mix of hormone and imagination.

‘Kiss me,’ Juliet told him. He opened his mouth and felt her lips touch his, colder than he expected, just lightly. He puckered slightly, because he wanted to contribute somehow, and released the grip of his right hand, which he suddenly realised had been squeezing her back. He felt something else, the end of her tongue flick against his, then disappear.

It was all so thrilling that for a few glorious seconds nothing else in the world mattered, nothing that had been, nothing that could follow. There was only the now, the present building upon itself, spiralling upwards in a teetering tower of
yes
and
please
.

Juliet’s hand moved down his back, then to his buttocks, steadily on with careful purpose, to the place where hundreds of thousands of years of genetic inevitability awaited them. Malcolm was seven again, the first time he ever rode a bike. Sailing down the driveway, perfectly excited, hopelessly unprepared. Juliet’s hand brushed the front of his trousers, the bike slid out beneath him and, in the panic of realisation, he fell off the bed.

‘Oh shit,’ he announced into the cruel silence of time starting back up, his elbow bruised, his pride severely grazed.

‘What is it?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Oh.’

‘Even I know that was too early.’

Silence again as Malcolm, soggy and broken, walked to the camera and turned off the power. He was glad he hadn’t had the nerve to hit record.
Say
something
, he thought.
Please say something
. But the look on Juliet’s face told him the only words she could think of were words that would make it worse. She stood and smiled, the sort of sympathetic smile only the truly hopeless ever see.