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Sweet Tooth


Sweet Tooth

He did something forbidden last night, and the vague memory of it still tasted sweet in his mouth. This, in itself, being a wonder, given that the inside of his mouth was as sour as it always was after a night of drinking. But it must have been good, he thought while still inching himself out of his liquored dead man’s sleep, whatever he had done. So what the hell did he do?

He could hear her playing with the Labrador downstairs, and he could smell the coffee brewing in the coffee maker. The rich smell of a French roast, as richly carried as their dinner had been, came up from under the loft that was their bedroom. And it was almost enough to make him raise his head out from under the downy quilt. He found himself hoping she had left the curtains closed, since the sun’s glare on the sea was never a pleasant sight for him first thing in the day. So why was he living here? Because he has found another girl to take him in for awhile. And how long have they been together? How close is he anyway to his thirtieth year when he can fall forever into the trust fund his DuPont family has kept waiting for him?

He couldn’t understand the questions he was unlocking for himself this morning, even before he was out of bed. And all he really wanted to know was what happened, last night, to make him feel this good in spite of the cognac, beer, and champagne headache.

He looked out from under the cover, and he saw she had left the curtains closed. He nodded to himself, even smiled, and he decided then and there she definitely has her value. He began to wonder at the time, but he couldn’t find the digital’s face for the mess of clothing, yesterday’s stocks and bonds journals, and the video tape cases. Maybe that’s what it was from last night. The four of them returned to her condominium to watch porno films on his new VCR. But where did the films lead them? And what was that other girl’s name? Lila, Lola, Gina? It should have been Lola, but he figured that would have been too good. He was beginning to remember having to throw her out. And it was really too bad, since, every guy in town has had a piece of her snatch. Except for him. Which was what it had been. Not his sweet memory, but the reason he threw her out. When he had slapped her on the ass, she turned on him. She slapped his face. There it was, the clock.

He felt relieved to see the time was almost noon. But of what day? Sunday, Monday? No, it was just Saturday. Well, anyway, he would get her to go out for the newspapers while he showered and shaved. He needed to talk to her about the laundry too, as not one of yesterday’s four shirts had had enough starch. And why didn’t she just change to another cleaner?

Forrr-Bidden. The word was beginning to roll through him now. It was cascading over him, and it felt as good as a Jacuzzi batch to him.

He sat up in bed, and he turned to put his feet on the floor. He stayed sitting long enough to let his head adjust to its new plane. Not so bad a body, he thought, looking down as far as his knees. He was a little pale, maybe, but his stomach was flat. And, stretching out his arms, he could see they still have their tone. All he needed was some time on the courts with that coke dealer he met the other night who called himself a tennis pro. The guy is as old as he, and still on the health club circuit. Some pro. Still, it would be a hard and steady match. He could call the guy today and see about next week.

She said it was getting smaller, but it didn’t look so small to him. Besides, it was a little tucked in first thing in the day. So what did she want anyway? Maybe that is why she spends so much time with that dog. She said it was because of all the chemicals he kept putting in his body, and all the booze. Likely she was seeing someone else, he thought, and trying to make him think he had some kind of problem. “!@#$ her,” he said aloud. He didn’t need her anyway. Never would. “Just a hot spot,” he said again. And, besides, there was something from last night tasting as sweet to him as he bet it had been for her then. He bet, also, she hadn’t complained. If he could just remember what it was.

He negotiated his way from the bedroom to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower. Standing under the jet stream of the water, he found the right combination of pulsating hot and cold. He could then see her indefinite form through the milky shower door, as she glided across his vision to set a cup of coffee on the back of the commode. He could imagine the clinking sound the cup made as it touched to the ceramic. And things always would look indefinite to him from in here, which is why he felt so secure in here. And she floated on out the door.

She was probably in the bedroom now, straightening its disarray. Standing in here, he couldn’t hear a thing. The water massaged his back, turning it as red as a boiled lobster. He decided to make the water even hotter. Hot enough, he smiled, for a black boy with his face in crawfish pie. Which was the thought to make him stop lathering. What he just said.

He had taken his party to a restaurant for a late night dinner. He was remembering now. And they had ordered a second round of drinks when that damned Maitre’d seated a black man with his white lady friend at the table next over. Seating the couple right next to them. The sight was enough to spoil his drink for him, but his friends didn’t seem to notice. He sure had. And so he started philosophizing on the undesirable consequences of mixed couples. It was just such a waste of potential new material. And no wonder if the couple heard him, he thought, since his friends all stopped talking. But what did it matter, then or now? He wanted to be heard anyway. And after the couple requested a table in another room, he took a new sip of his drink. Just a long, slow sip that rolled on his tongue like and pink and playful nipple. And it tasted so sweet to him, that sip, that nipple, that forbidden thing. He could honestly say it tasted even sweeter now.

Tere
Aug/9/2013, 10:04 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
Terreson Profile
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Re: Sweet Tooth


So I've posted a link to this thread on FB. Doing so is one of the ways I look to bring attention to our board. There, I introduce the story this way:

~Many years ago, in my young man days, reading Sartre, I came across a short story of his. It was a study in what makes an anti-Semitic type. I didn't think he succeeded to the mark, his character study not all that convincing. Fast forward a bunch of years I decided to try my hand at making believable an unpleasant type of personality. Authors are forced to "get inside" all of their characters, to do so even in a sympathetic, understanding way. But it can become a dangerous game, sort of like putting on Tolkein's ring. My story is very short, not requiring a half-hour even. But I think instructive. Problem is this: What does it say about me if I can understand certain types of behavior?~

Pretty interesting circumstance, don't you think? My protaganist is a type I despise. He is the enemy. But there must be something about him I, the author, get.

Tere

Aug/10/2013, 1:07 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
Christine98 Profile
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Re: Sweet Tooth


It's a good read, Tere, a good story. Maybe seeing this character from such a distant/objective angle sharpens the image.

Guy's a bastard, that's for sure,

Chris
Aug/10/2013, 1:52 pm Link to this post Send Email to Christine98   Send PM to Christine98
 
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Re: Sweet Tooth


Immediate chuckle, Chris. Back when I ran in a certain circle I encountered, separately from each other, 2 sons of the extended Dupont family. They couldn't have been more different. One was burdened almost to a debilitating degree by the social responsibility he felt his wealth placed on him. The other you've now met. As you know, my practice is to make my studies from life. All I do is see to atmosphere and environment. My characters are allowed to sink or swim on their own resources. A bastard indeed. I actually drew on him a second time. Thanks for reading.

Tere
Aug/10/2013, 2:36 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 


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