CHAPTER 6

When she reached the street, Carolyn realized that she intended to get very, very drunk. She wanted to find a woman to go to bed with, but she knew her desire was not for a woman alone. She had to forget Angie, had to prove to herself that she no longer cared.

She decided not to bother with the car and rode downtown on the train.

It was already after midnight when she came out of the subway station into the steaming heat of the Village. She turned her back on the fights and the bustle of Sheridan Square and walked slowly west on a quiet side street.

Though it was late, teenage kids loitered on doorsteps, talking, whistling as she passed, and above them, old women in washed-out, sleeveless cottons leaned out of windows to catch a breath of air. The stench from open garbage cans and of meat scraps rotting in warehouses down by the river filled her nostrils and her stomach began to churn. She fit a cigarette and dragged the smoke deep into her lungs.

At the corner a door banged open almost in her face and a derelict stumbled out of a noisy bar. He reeled around to swear at the bouncer, who had already gone back inside, then staggered across the sidewalk into the gutter. He sat down on the curb, his arms propped on his knees, and began to sing in a melancholy, croaking voice.

Carolyn crossed the street away from him and walked close to the buildings, keeping to the shadows. Ahead of her on the opposite side, the window of the Rendezvous made a dull yellow blotch on the night's darkness.

She slowed down as she passed and tried to look the place over without staring. Though the door stood open, the large room was hazy with cigarette smoke. She could see figures clustered three deep at the near end of the bar.

The juke box blared into the silent street.

For a moment she hesitated. She had never walked into a gay bar alone, had never even seen one before she met Angie. It seemed to her a nervy thing to do, like posting a public announcement of her need. It helped only a little to realize that the drinkers at the bar were there for the same reason. But she could not deny that the brassy music, the outlines against the window and the promise of fulfillment excited her.

She crossed the street and started back to the entrance. A giant of a man in a blue cord suit appeared from inside and stood blocking the doorway. Munching thoughtfully on a toothpick, he cocked his head and the bright, narrow eyes inspected quickly. Satisfied, he nodded and stepped aside to let her enter.

Carolyn took a deep breath and launched herself past him into the din. Just inside the entrance, she paused and swallowed uncertainly. She couldn't get anywhere near the bar and she couldn't very well just stand there in the middle of the floor.

"There's room in the back," the big guy said from behind her. "You can't breathe back there, but there's plenty of room."

She thanked him and maneuvered slowly toward the rear of the bar. She saw the eyes turning to watch her. Just the eyes. It felt like dozens of them, tiny sparks of light in dull, blank faces. She did not look back at any of them, but raised her cigarette nervously to her lips and bore it in front of her like a shield. For a moment she was naked in front of the crowd, like a slave girl in the marketplace. Then she was one of them. They went back to their chatter and their drinks. She squeezed through to the bar.

She ordered a gin and tonic and when it was served, drank the gin straight. When it took hold of her nerves, she leaned back, feeling a little more confident, and began to survey the faces around her. With her back against the wall at the end of the bar, she had the best seat in the house from which to cruise.

Directly across from her sat a couple she did not know but recognized from previous trips. They were apparently always there, on those two stools, and always drunk. They were together, yet apart. They did not talk to each other, just sat, stared ahead of them and drank. She could not bear to look at them for more than a glance and partake of their mutual misery, whatever it was. She felt like a Peeping Tom when she did.

And then there were the others. New faces, yet somehow always the same. The young ones, kids in shorts and sandals with closely cropped hair, looking for trouble, drinking too much, and loud in their self-conscious bravado.

The serious cruisers, the older ones, sober and hungry-eyed, silently staring. And the ones who reminded Carolyn of Angie and herself—the ones on the waning ends of affairs—still together, already bored, yet clinging to each other in a sort of quiet desperation.

The happy ones, the ones who were loved, did not come to this place. They had no need to.

Carolyn had seen it all many times before when Angie had brought her here. Angie loved just to sit in a corner and watch. She got a big kick out of being flirted with, and she almost always was. Yet to Carolyn, coming to the Village to look at lesbians was not much different from a trip to the zoo. It always depressed and frightened her. And she knew that, no matter what Angie did to her, she would never allow herself to hang around the gay bars, looking for a partner for the night. She did not want to become like these women, forever looking, forever alone.

But here she was and she had come here for a reason. This time, her reason was the same as theirs.

 

She searched deeply into many faces but she found no response.

The craving she had felt began to burn again inside her. An aching need, pulsing along her thighs, pounding behind her temples. She wiped her sweaty palms on the knees of her slacks and her hands were trembling.

Somebody dropped coins into the juke box and it broke its three second silence with a blare of trumpets. A glass got in the way of an elbow and spilled onto the bar. Voices rose in argument, then mingled with the din.

She swallowed her third shot of gin. When it hit her stomach, she cringed, realizing she had already drunk enough.

She had eaten little of her mother's supper, not enough for ballast. Her senses began to swim. The heat and the noise and the smoke pressed in on her.

It was getting late. People were beginning to pair off and leave. The need to find someone, anyone became urgent.

Desperately she ordered another drink and began again to search.

She had not noticed the girl in the worn denim shirt come in. Yet when she saw her making her way toward the back of the bar, she felt no surprise. It was as though she had been expecting her and waiting. She had never seen the girl before and knew instinctively that she would never see her again. But it did not matter. It was now that counted.

There was nothing particularly attractive about the girl. She was tall with a narrow, firm body. Her face was small and pinched and reminded Carolyn of a starved Pekingese. The details didn't matter. It was the expression in the deep blue eyes when their glances met that caught her attention and held it. It was an open appeal for help.

Carolyn recognized that plea. It was the one she had been carrying in her heart all evening.

The girl leaned an elbow on the bar and in a deep, well-modulated voice ordered a bottle of beer. The bartender asked to see her money first. She took five dimes out of her shirt pocket and lined them across the palm of her hand. He grinned and gave her the bottle. She grinned back and dropped the dimes on the counter.

Carolyn had expected to see a flush of embarrassment, but there was only good nature behind the grin. If she knew that Carolyn had been watching, she gave no sign. She took the bottle and went to stand near the juke box. She let her shoulders droop, put her head back and half closed her eyelids.

Carolyn studied the girl from behind a cigarette. She knew that the girl was eying her just as steadily. Now that she had found what she wanted, Carolyn wasn't quite sure what to do next. She had never before tried to pick a girl up.

She realized that the girl would be more than willing, but she obviously expected Carolyn to make the first move.

When it was empty, the girl set the beer bottle beside her on the floor. She lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and let the smoke trickle out. For a fraction of an instant, she looked directly into Carolyn's eyes.

Carolyn signalled the bartender. "Another gin," she said. "And a bottle of beer." She paid for the drinks and stood up. If she could just get across the room, she had it made.

The beer was a cinch, but the gin slopped over onto her fingers. By the time she reached the girl, the shot glass was half empty.

She looked at the girl in dismay. "I think I'm a little tight," she said.

The girl laughed, friendly and pleasant. "Honey," she said, "you're doing just fine." She took the bottle from Carolyn, tipped it to her lips and drank deeply.

Carolyn raised the shot glass to her lips and decided suddenly that she couldn't take another drop without falling flat on her face. She looked around for a place to set the glass, then shrugged helplessly at the girl.

"Don't waste it," the girl said. "It's good stuff." She took the shot glass and poured the liquid into her beer, then set the glass on the floor. "There. Simple?"

So far, so good, Carolyn thought. What the hell do I do now?

"I'm Carol Weber," she said impulsively.

The girl raised an eyebrow and glanced at Carolyn curiously. An odd smile played on her lips. "You didn't have to tell me, you know."

"What do you mean?"

The girl shrugged. "Not much of anything," she said. "I just talk."

"No, really," Carolyn insisted.

"You don't come here often, do you?" the girl asked.

 

"It's my first time alone," Carolyn admitted. She frowned. "Why?"

"Ah, yes. Just my luck. I should have known." She tilted her head back and now there was a hint of sarcasm in the blue eyes. "You had a fight with your girl."

Carolyn shook her head vehemently. "No fight," she said. "We're just through, that's all."

The girl sighed. "I know, honey. That's what they all say."

"All who?"

"The first-timers." She patted Carolyn on the shoulder. "But don't worry about it. It's all right. I've been using the same line for ten years."

Carolyn drew away from the girl's hand. "But it's true," she said indignantly.

The girl smiled again. "You know something?" she said. "I believe you. You've got about as much finesse as a Mack truck. I doubt that you've learned that from experience." The blue eyes sparkled.

For one second Carolyn wanted sincerely to throw the beer in the girl's face and walk out of the bar alone. But then she noticed the eyes. They were bright and laughing, but they were not happy. She would never know what had made this girl put on the mask of sarcasm and nonchalance. She did not really care to find out. But she knew that it was a lie. The girl was not hard, just hardened.

Carolyn let herself relax and she smiled. "Give me time," she said. "I'm a fast learner."

The girl looked at her levelly for an instant, her eyes serious now. Abruptly, she nodded. "I'm sure you know all that's required," she said. She finished the beer, then leaned away from the wall. "Shall we go?"

Carolyn followed her out of the bar and onto the quiet street. She had no idea where they were going. She didn't care. There was only one thing that concerned her now and, wherever they went, she would find it.

Outside, the girl waited for her to catch up. She looked down at Carolyn and her expression was sober, almost sad.

"Look," she said. "You didn't have to come."

"Nobody forced me," Carolyn said.

"I'm not always that snotty," the girl said. "It's just that— Well, I feel like a performing dog in that place. I used to go with a girl and we went into that place every weekend. We always fought like hell after a couple of drinks. We put on a regular floor show till they finally threw us out." She was silent for a moment, then she shrugged. "So what? There's no place else to go anymore."

They started walking toward Hudson Street, neither of them talking. Carolyn listened to the taps of her heels click rhythmically against the sidewalk. It was cooler now than it had been in the bar, though not much, and she breathed deeply to dispel the wooziness that filled her. Her head throbbed with every step she took, from the gin and the confusion and the lack of sleep.

The girl moved closer, not touching her but near enough so that Carolyn felt the sleeve of the denim shirt brush against her arm. She knew that the girl was trying to make things right between them, to apologize for her abruptness in the bar. She felt herself responding to the girl's need for acceptance and love, perhaps because it was so like her own. And she sensed a rush of warmth towards this stranger that she had never felt for anyone before, except Angie. It was not pity. Nor was it love. It was simply a desire to comfort.

Impulsively, she took the girl's hand and they began to walk faster now, their moist palms pressed tightly together.

She felt the girl's thigh moving beside her own and suddenly her nerves caught fire. She knew an urgent and immediate need to possess.

She laughed aloud. Comfort, indeed, she thought. Save that kind o f nonsense for Angie, old girl. Let's call a shovel a shovel.

The girl glanced at her curiously and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Carolyn laughed again, louder this time, happily. "Not a damn thing," she said. "Let's go."

Her excitement was contagious. The girl laughed with her and they began to run, hand in hand.

On Tenth Street the girl led her into a dingy tenement tucked in between two warehouses and down the hall to a first floor apartment.

She did not stop to turn on the lights. "In here," she said. She pulled Carolyn after her into a tiny, airless room.

 

They fell together onto the rumpled bed. The girl grabbed her and dragged her close. Her tongue probed between Carolyn's lips, her hand teasingly caressed the inside of Carolyn's thigh.

Carolyn could not wait another second. She wanted the girl. Now. She put one leg behind the girl's calves and rolled her onto her back. She yanked the girl's shirt out of her trousers, pulled it up and unloosened her bra. She brought her mouth down onto one of the girl's breasts and teased the tips with her tongue.

The girl opened her own belt and shoved at her trousers. They were both in a hurry. Carolyn helped her wiggle out of the tight pants.

Then she stopped wasting time.

She was all over the girl with her mouth and with her hands, arousing her, driving her wild. She felt the girl's long fingers twine in her hair and tighten, urging her on. She did not need to be led.

She heard the girl gasp and suck in her breath as she touched her. Her need to possess became a frenzy.

The fingers tightened in her hair till it hurt. She felt the girl's body convulse and she held onto her thighs as they quivered.

Then it was done. The girl sighed contentedly and relaxed. She reached out lazily to take Carolyn in her arms.

Carolyn suddenly was sober and very sad. She looked down at the girl lying there, her features shadowy in the light from a street lamp, her hair wispy and damp from perspiration.

The girl was not Angie. She did not even know her name.

Carolyn did-not know where the desire had gone to, but she could not let the girl touch her. She turned away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed. She heard the girl stir behind her.

"Hey," the girl said. "I think you forgot something." She propped herself on one elbow and peered into Carolyn's face intently.

Carolyn shook her head and tried to smile. "No," she said. "I didn't forget. I just sobered up, that's all. I can't."

The girl sighed. "You've still got a conscience," she said. "Well, I tried."

"So did I," Carolyn said.

"You love her?"

Her eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. "I don't know anymore," she said honestly. "A couple of hours ago I thought I was through for good. I wanted to go to bed with somebody else to prove I didn't care."

"But now you're not sure?"

Carolyn nodded.

The girl leaned around her to switch on the light. "Maybe you smoke the wrong brand."

"What?"

"Try a guy."

Carolyn frowned. "Was I that bad?" she said.

The girl laughed, "Not at all." She sat beside Carolyn on the edge of the bed and slid her feet into a pair of sandals.

Then she stood up and pulled down her shirt. "But your heart's not in it, honey. Believe me, it shows." She reached for her trousers.

"You're not Angie," Carolyn said defensively.

The girl cupped Carolyn's chin in her hand. "Have it your way," she said gently. "But give it a thought. Don't let this kid hang you up for life."

Carolyn nodded. "You're probably right."

The girl winked at her. "I'm always right for other people," she said. She pulled up her trousers and buckled her belt. Then she kissed Carolyn quickly on the forehead. "Now, scram," she said gently.