"Who do you like in the next race?" Tanya asked.

"Zag-Zig."

"Do you think he'll win?"

"Do you have two breasts?"

"Have you noticed?"

"Yes."

"Where's the ladies' room?"

"Turn right twice."

As soon as Tanya left I ordered another BM. A black guy walked up to me. He was around 50. "Hank, man, how are you doing?" ' "I'm holding on."

"Man, we really miss you down at the P.O. You were one of the funniest guys we ever had. I mean, we miss you down there."

"Thanks, tell the boys I said hello."

"What are you doing now, Hank?"

"Oh, I pound a typewriter."

"What do you mean?"

"I pound a typewriter…"

I held both hands up and tapped down at the air.

"You mean you're a clerk-typist?"

"No, I write."

"Write what?"

"Poems, short stories, novels. They pay me for that."

He looked at me. Then he turned and walked off.

Tanya came back. "Some son-of-a-bitch tried to pick me up!" "Oh? I'm sorry. I should have gone with you." "He was very brash! I really hate those types! They're slime!" "If they only had some originality it might help. They just don't have any imagination. It might be why they are alone." "I'm going to bet Zag-Zig." "I'll buy you a ticket…"

Zag-Zig just didn't stoke up. He came up to the gate weakly, the jock stroking away the whitewach with his whip. Zag-Zig broke poorly and then loped. He beat one horse. We went back to the bar. One hell of a race for a 6 to 5 shot.

We had two Marys.

"You like head?" Tanya asked me.

"It depends. Some do it well, most don't."

"Do you ever meet any friends out here?"

"I just did, the race before this."

"A woman?"

"No, a guy, a postal clerk. I really don't have any friends."

"You've got me."

"Ninety pounds of roaring sex."

"Is that all you see in me?"

"Of course not. You have those large, large eyes."

"You're not very nice."

"Let's catch the next race."

We caught the next race. She bet hers, I bet mine. We both lost.

"Let's get out of here," I said.

"O.K.," said Tanya.

Back at my place we sat on the couch drinking. She really wasn't a bad girl. She had such a sad look about her. She wore dresses and high heels and her ankles were good. I wasn't quite sure what she expected of me. I had no desire to make her feel bad. I kissed her. She had a long thin tongue and it darted in and out of my mouth. I thought of a silverfish. There was so much sadness in everything, even when things worked.

Then Tanya unzipped me and had my cock in her mouth. She pulled it out and looked at me. She was on her knees between my legs. She stared into my eyes and ran her tongue around the head of my cock. Behind her the last of the sun was leaking through my dirty Venetian blinds. Then she went to work. She had absolutely no technique; she knew nothing about how it should be done. It was straight and simple bob and suck. As straight grotesque it was fine but it was hard to get it off on straight grotesque. I had been drinking and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. So I went into fantasyland: we were both down at the beach, and we were surrounded by 45 or 50 people, male and female, most of them in bathing trunks. They were gathered around us in a small circle. The sun was up above, the sea rolled in and out, and you could hear it. Now and then two or three seagulls circled low over our heads.

Tanya sucked and bobbed as they watched and I heard their comments:

"Christ, look at her go and get it!"

"Cheap demented slut!"

"Sucking off a guy 40 years older than she is!"

"Pull her away! She's crazy!"

"No, wait! She's really getting at it!"

"And LOOK at that thing!"

"HORRIBLE!"

"Hey! I'll get her in the ass while she's doing it!"

"She's CRAZY! SUCKING OFF THAT OLD FUCK!!"

"Let's burn her back with matches!"

"LOOK AT HER GO!"

"SHE'S TOTALLY CRAZY!"

I reached down and grabbed Tanya's head and forced my cock into the center of her skull.

When she came out of the bathroom I had two drinks ready. Tanya took a sip and looked at me. "You liked it, didn't you? I could tell."

"You're right," I said. "You like symphony music?"

"Folk-rock," she said.

I went over to the radio, moved it to 160, turned it on, turned it up. We were there.

104

I took Tanya to the airport the next afternoon. We had a drink in the same bar. The high-yellow wasn't around; all that leg was with somebody else.

"I'll write you," said Tanya.

"All right."

"Do you think I'm a chippy?"

"No. You love sex and there's nothing wrong with that."

"You really get off on it yourself."

"There's a lot of puritan in me. Puritans might enjoy sex more than anybody."

"You do act more innocent than any man I've ever met."

"In a sense I've always been a virgin…"

"I wish I could say that."

"Another drink?"

"Sure."

We drank in silence. Then it was time to board. I kissed Tanya goodbye outside of security, then took the escalator down. The ride home was uneventful. I thought, well, I'm alone again. I ought to get some fucking writing done or go back to being a janitor. The postal service will never take me back. A man must ply his trade, as they say.

I arrived at the court. There was nothing in the mailbox. I sat down and dialed Sara. She was at the Inn.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Is that bitch gone?"

"She's gone."

"How long?"

"I just put her on the plane."

"Did you like her?"

"She had some qualities."

"Do you love her?"

"No. Look, I'd like to see you."

"I don't know. It's been terribly hard for me. How do I know you won't do it again?"

"Nobody is ever quite sure of what they will do. You aren't sure what you might do."

"I know what I feel."

"Look, I don't even ask what you've been doing, Sara."

"Thanks, you're very kind."

"I'd like to see you. Tonight. Come on over."

"Hank, I just don't know…"

"Come on over. We can just talk."

"I'm pretty damned upset. I've really gone through hell."

"Look, let me put it this way: with me, you're number one and there isn't even a number two."

"All right. I'll be over about seven. Look, there are two customers waiting…"

"All right. See you at seven."

I hung up. Sara really was a good soul. To lose her for a Tanya was ridiculous. Yet, Tanya had brought me something. Sara deserved better treatment than I gave her. People owed each other certain loyalties even if they weren't married. In a way, the trust should run deeper because it wasn't sanctified by the law.

Well, we needed wine, good white wine.

I walked out, got in the Volks and drove up to the liquor store next to the supermarket. I like to change liquor stores frequently because the clerks got to know your habits if you went in night and day and bought huge quantities. I could feel them wondering why I wasn't dead yet and it made me uncomfortable. They probably weren't thinking any such thing, but then a man gets paranoid when he has 300 hangovers a year.

I found four bottles of good white wine in the new place and went out with them. Four young Mexican boys were standing outside.

"Hey, mister! Give us some money! Hey, man, give us some money!"

"What for?"

"We need it, man, we need it, don't you know?"

"Gonna buy some coke?"

"Pepsi-Cola, man!"

I gave them 50 cents.

(IMMORTAL WRITER COMES TO AID OF STREET URCHINS)

They ran off. I opened the door to the Volks and put the wine inside. Just as I did a van drove up rapidly and the door slammed open. A woman was roughly pushed out. She was a young

Mexican, about 22, no breasts, dressed in grey slacks. Her black hair was dirty and scraggly. The man in the van screamed at her: "YOU GOD DAMNED WHORE! YOU SICK FUCKING WHORE! I OUGHTA KICK YOUR STUPID ASS!"