Your Princess is in Another Castle (7 page)

Discarding that notio
n I settle for focusing on her breasts.  I offer her another bill, unsure of where it would go, and she guides it so that my fist is centered between her breasts as she presses them together and uses them to pull the bill from my hand. Montana leans in close to me.  “It sure took you long enough to come over here.  Why don’t you party with me one on one later?  We’ll see about bringing you out of your shell,” she says.  I nod my head in agreement.  She winks at me and moves towards another man, to offer the same to him.

Chris hasn’t returned to the table when I reach it.  Seth is enjoying another beer, has another
Coke waiting for me.  “Well,” he says, “how was it?”

“Good.  She’s a good dancer.  She asked me if I
wanted to get a private dance later.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“Nothing.  I just kinda nodded stupidly like Ralphie did when Santa asked him if he wanted a football for Christmas.”

“
Hypnotized by the boobs, huh?  Well, I’m sure she got the meaning you were conveying.  Which is good, you could use a private dance.”  Seth looks around the room. “Still haven’t seen one I’m really into yet.  Stephanie did slap Kelly’s ass in front of me though.  But listen, I remember where the name Montana Wild comes from. That was the name of the movie star that the Tralfamadorians bring to Billy Pilgrim for a mate in Slaughterhouse-Five.  Well, Montana Wildhack was her name, but it’s very close.  Either she took her name from the book or it’s a hell of a coincidence.  Who knows?  Maybe every girl here is a grad student with a handle related to their studies.  Maybe there’s even a Bobby Woodward who deepthroats on stage.  I’d like to see that.”

Seth is
right.  Montana Wildhack was brought to the planet Tralfamadore via timewarp by its plunger-shaped residents to be a mate for Billy Pilgrim, who was displayed naked in a zoo.  Slaughterhouse-Five
was the first book I’d read by Kurt Vonnegut, and was recommended to me by Seth.  I’d since read several others. 

“You’re
right,” I say.  “I remember Montana Wildhack.  How do you think Chris is doing with Starry?”

“Just think,
” says Seth ignoring my question, “if she actually likes Vonnegut so much that she adopted her stage name after one of his characters, she’s bound to like you. After all, you’re just a younger version of his most famous character.”

“Don’t start.”  I lo
ok around for Chris and don’t see him.  “I’m nothing like Kilgore Trout.”

Seth waits to respond, taking a slow drink of beer like a
cat toying with a mouse. “Yes, you are.  Fifty years from now you’ll be exactly like him.  Bitter and alone, an angry old author living in total obscurity.  The only real difference is that Trout published novels and stories en masse, they just didn’t make money.  You on the other hand, you’ll have written all these works, you’ll just never have allowed anyone to read them.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ve never read anything you wrote, anything at all.  Neither has Chris.  And I don’t think you have any other close friends except for Jessica, and since I’ve never actually seen you with her, I can’t be sure she even actually exists.”

“And you never will.  You’re the kind of guy she’d sleep with.”

Seth gives me a quizzical look, wonders if he should be insulted.  “Pardon?”

“That wasn’t meant to be o
ffensive.  I don’t think you’re a bad guy.  If I had a sister, I would have no problem with you dating her.  It’s just… I like Jessica a lot.  I’m not in love with her, but I have some pretty strong feelings for her.  And you are the kind of guy she’d go for.  Not a jerk, a bad boy, or a cheater, although at present she is with a guy who is all of these things.  But you’re someone I could see her wanting.  You’re a guy who’s a musician, a guy who is more outgoing and confident than I am.  She’d be attracted to you.  And you would go for her too, I think.  And it might even work out. That’s what scares me.               

“
I admit I’m being unreasonable about this.  But it’s the way I’m going to be.  I’m not totally hung up on Jessica.  I’ve been interested in other women since I met her.  It hasn’t been easy, it still isn’t easy.  I don’t know if you’ve ever literally had a girl crying on your shoulder because someone she’s taken back before has left her yet again, and if that same girl has been someone you’d give anything in the world to wrap your arms around and kiss, but it isn’t easy to experience. 

“
If I ever meet someone else and fall for her, make it work, well then I wouldn’t have a problem with you and Jessica being together.  But until that happens, you’re not going to meet her.  Because I need to have a friend that’s able to convince me to crawl out of my hole once in awhile, and if I see you holding Jessica’s hand while I am still alone, well then I’d burrow back into my hole so deep no one would ever find me.” 

“I believe you when you say you’re not in love with Jessica,
” says Seth in a manner that indicates he does not.  “At least you’re not so in love with her that you’re unable to be interested in anybody else.  You’re defensive enough about Sabrina that it’s clear you do like her.  Now, if you’re looking for an opportunity to chuck the Emperor into a reactor shaft and leave the past behind, you should ask Sabrina out.”

“I told you, she can ask me out and then
I’ll be more than happy to go out with her.”

“And that
my friend is why you’re Kilgore Trout.”

“Uh-huh.”

“First, back to the writing for a moment.  You don’t ever share your own work. Why is that?”  

“Do you share
first drafts of your songs with an audience before they’re finished?  Or do you wait for something to be completed before you unveil it to the public?”

“That’s true to a point.  I don’t perform anything that isn’t finished to
my personal satisfaction.  However, whenever I do start something, I will stick with it until it’s finished.  And then perform it.  You, you don’t share anything.  Not even stuff you showcase in class workshops.  I assume you don’t have a problem sharing them in the classes themselves, because you’ve taken several and presumably passed them.  But you never share with anyone outside of class.

“Now, Kilgore Trout is described as a bad writer,
albeit one with some good ideas.  I wouldn’t know if you’re a good writer or not.  But the thing you have in common is that you both could never be successful as failure is what defines you.  You wouldn’t know what to do with success.  You couldn’t function as a success.  Neither could Trout.  The man lived in his basement apartment as a failed writer overlording over a bunch of little paperboys, bitter and cantankerous.  He wouldn’t have been able to handle a real publication contract with any promotion.  When he meets Billy Pilgrim, one of the only people who’s ever heard of him, and he goes to Billy’s anniversary party he’s asked by a woman what is the most famous story he’s ever written, and on the spot he just makes something up that doesn’t exist.  I can see you doing that.  I can see you being a bitter old man who never had the faintest taste of success but deep down you never really wanted it or could have handled it anyway.

“And you just proved this theory with your refusal to
ask out Sabrina.  You’ve been given all the evidence you could realistically ever hope for to prove she’s interested in you, and you still won’t ask her out.  Why?  Because you just couldn’t handle having a cute little dorky girlfriend who likes you, because your whole wide world of pessimism and negativity would collapse on itself leaving you unable to know how to live.  You’re a young Kilgore Trout, that’s what you are.  You should have a t-shirt that reads
keep the hell out of my body bag
.”  

I
hesitantly stare into my glass like a child looking down into a pool from a diving board.  Hands begin to run up and down my chest as Montana Wild places her head on my shoulder.  “I’m sorry for the interruption,” she says, “because you were having the quite the conversation there.  But you see you’ve made a commitment to spend a little time with me.”  She runs her fingers through my hair and sits on my lap.

Seth appears amused.
“By all means, take him away.  I’ve said what I wanted to say already.  I’m morbidly curious though, just how big are those?”

Montana
looks down at her breasts.  “That’s a very good question.  Undo me please, would you sweety?” she asks me.  I undo her top’s knot.  Montana fondles her breasts as Seth looks at her repellently.  “I had them done big enough so that they transcend the traditional A-B-C-D measurement scale,” she says.  “But I think I’m somewhere around an F or G-cup.”

“He thinks they’re
too big,” I say, turning on Seth as if it needed to be verbalized.

Montana
takes my hands and covers her breasts with them.  Touching them is a joy as I have no connection to her, the opposite of getting to grab Jessica’s ass, where the longing for more dampened the experience.    

“
They occupy something of a specialized niche,” admits Montana.  “They might be a bit much for some guys.  But I’m like a cult leader.  Every follower I do have is going to be mine completely.”  She tilts her head to look at me.  “You’d pretty much do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“You look like you’d happily down a glass of
cyanide flavored Kool-Aid if she asked you to,” says Seth. 

“Flavor-Aid
,” says Montana.  “The Kool-Aid Man would never hurt anybody.” She rises and pulls me out of my chair.  “Come on, let’s go play.” 

Taking me by one hand and holding her discarded top in the other
Montana leads me into a dark and narrow hallway near the entrance of the club.  Little rooms line either side, and as we search for a vacancy I spot Chris in one of the rooms with Starry.  I wonder how much he’s spent on her given how long he’s been in there. 

“Do you want a couch or a bed dance?” asks
Montana.

I glance to either side
of the hall and see that there’s a black leather couch in the room to the left, and to the right a bed that reminds me of the kind you lie on when being examined by a doctor.  It has a single cushion.  “What do you recommend?” I ask.

“Ah,
so you’re a virgin,” she says.  I try hard not to react to her words, don’t know if I succeed.  “Well, it depends on what you want.  If you want to experience my entire body pressing against yours, go for the bed.  If you just want to play with my big boobies, get the couch.”

I look down at her jean
shorts and imagine the thong she’s wearing beneath them, and her taking it off again to become completely nude.

“Couch,”
I say. 

“You’re definitely a guy who likes his titties, aren’t you?”

“Did Dickinson like her dashes?” I say instead of think.

Montana
laughs.  “Well, I can suffice for you, I know.”  She leads me into the room on the left and gently pushes me onto the couch.  “Now it’s twenty-five dollars per song, all right?”  I’m able to give her exact change.  “As soon as the music starts up we’ll begin.”  Montana uses the down time to take off her boots and shorts, leaving only her thong and hat.  She sits on my lap a moment before the song begins.  Looking at her, I’m unsure what music she begins to dance to.  It could be Moonlight Sonata, it could be Cop Killer.  We could be in the vacuum of space for all I know.

Montana
straddles me, taking off her hat and hoisting it into the air as if she were riding a wild bull.  She then tosses it aside and nibbles on my ear.  “Oh, that’s right,” she whispers, “you want to get better acquainted with the twins.” She grabs my head and shoves it between her breasts.  “I hope you can hold your breath baby, cuz’ I’m not letting you up for awhile.”  She continues to press my head against her chest, finally releasing me and folding her arms around her breasts, concealing them.     

Montana
stands up and turns around, arms still folded.  She falls back into my lap and grinds herself into me.  I fondle her breasts from behind and smell her hair.  I want this moment, where this beautiful woman whose real name I don’t know is letting me touch her, to go on forever.  I see all of her beauty and she sees none of my flaws.  We are complete strangers, and that is why she allows me this pleasure.

Montana
turns again to face me, rubs both breasts against my face.  Bounding off my lap, she sits next to me on the couch and lays her head on my shoulder, mock cuddling with me.  “That was fun,” she says.  “Can I go for another ride?” 

“
Next time.  I’d like to see you again,” I say as if I were asking for a second date after walking her to her porch.

“I’ll be here.” 
Montana grabs her clothes but makes no move to actually put them back on.  “So what’s your name?” she asks, hurling a brick through the glass window that keeps us strangers.

“Ben,” I say.
  Benjamin is the suggested name for the hero in Final Fantasy Mystic Quest.  And there’s also Ben Reilly, the alias used by the Scarlet Spider.  Ben is a good name.      

“Why don’t I believe that?” asks
Montana.  “I’ll tell you my real name if you tell me yours.”

She’s intent on making this difficul
t.  But how did she know?  “Actually, I like your stage name.  You were given your birth name.  It doesn’t say anything about you. But you picked your stage name, and picked it for a reason.  It does say something about you.”