Jimmy had a short fat dick that fell out
whenever they fucked. Or at least that's what she told me as I ordered her another cocktail before taking a seat beside her, her skirt
riding cavalierly up her smooth flanks as she reached across and placed a hand on my thigh. It sat out like an inflamed belly button, she said, and caused Nancy more pain and suffering than any eighteen incher ever could.
'It's not that I don't love the man, he's my husband,' she explained sipping down her blue concoction all the while drilling fuck holes in me with her eyes 'it's just every once and a while a woman needs a real servicing. Something big and hard to make her feel desired.'
I'd nod along agreeing entirely as her manicured French digits blazed the denim walking trail along my thigh towards the swelling third arm.
It seems that God, in his infinite wisdom and glory, is not without a sense of humour. His greatest gotcha played
on Nancy being her inability to provide Jimmy with the heir he desperately desired. If only she could sire, even one, just one, just enough to put him at peace and take the sting out of his compulsion to grab ass and try until seed stuck. But every month was the same; she would see red and have to console her starving libido with a weekend out with the girls and a discreet pump, pump, squirt with a stranger.
The itch scratched, the good wife was able to resume her role as homemaker and (maybe one day) child bearer.
Waving to the girls at the bar Nancy called one over. Side by side, one blonde, one redhead, the resemblance was striking; the genetic similarities between the two apparent behind the eyes as the flame haired lady extended a toned and tanned wing my direction.
'This is Denise, Denise is my sister. Denise, this is…'
'Doug.' I offered, hand extended, chest heaving, blood boiling.
'So you're Nancy's friend.'
'It would appear so.' I said collecting nods of agreement from Nancy who makes little work of her twelve dollar drink.
'We're going to Shutters on the Beach for drinks.' Denise said, more to the air than either of us 'Why don't you drop by when you're done with your friend here.'
The siblings exchanged cheek pleasantries and I wondered how many times this scenario had been played out. How many different friends, how many bars, how many drinks at Shutters afterwards?
Smiling, Denise strutted all the stuff she's packing back across the hard wood neon-clad dance floor, her hips shaking up the rump that's tightly wrapped beneath her navy dress. I drained down my beer before going
to the bar and reloading, my usual nip of whiskey while I waited foregone for the sake of performance. Nobody wanted to be the lay that's not worth the guilt, especially for a dame like Nancy who stepped out so often and guilt-ed so little.
In my absence a would-be suitor had attempted to stake a claim but I need not worry as Nancy barely made eye contact with the tall lean Norwegian type. Perhaps he's an old friend, he looked the kind that falls hard and can't get enough. As I pulled up beside her Nancy slid up and all but wrapped herself around me, making a big deal of the fact
that we're together.
For now.
Next week. Next week. If her purse was as good as she looked maybe I'd be him and someone else would be me, smiling the smile of a prized fool who doesn't know just how bad he's going to get it at the hands of this Nancy, the demi-goddess of making it.
'So, where were we?' she sighed, tossing her blonde curls from her perfect complexion.
'The trouble with Jimmy.'
'Oh, yeah, him.'
'Maybe it's not you.'
'Huh?'
'You said you can't have kids, maybe it's not you. Maybe it's Jimmy.'
'You reckon?'
'Maybe his junk is just bad, it's not always the woman's fault. Fertility is indiscriminate like that.' I toasted.
'I think if I could give him a baby he'd divorce me.' Nancy confessed.
'What makes you think that?'
'Maybe think isn't the right word, maybe hope. Sometimes I fantasise about him catching me at it and storming out. I don't know what happens next but I know he never comes back.'
'Why don't you leave him, then?'
'Because I love him, and because I don't want to hurt him. But I need dick, you know?'
'So you're doing this for him.'
'Exactly.'
'You're a god-damn Samaritan.'
'Thanks.' her reply absent of any form of irony.
Stepping outside I lit a cigarette before offering the pack of little round heads to Nancy. Plucking one out, she slipped him between her plush lips and I put the flame to it. She eased up against me, warming herself against my front as the wind changed and the Pacific blew cold across her citizens.
'So how do you want to do this?' I asked.
'Jesus, how about a little romance? You treat a woman like she's ruined.'
'Alright, I get you. Look it's getting cold, how about we go back to your hotel for a few drinks.'
'I'm not checked in anywhere.' she smiled, blowing a ring of white from her mouth. 'Let's go back to yours.'
'I live in a motel, is that a deal breaker?'
'What kind of guy lives in a motel?'
'Two kinds. The poor writer who's here illegally and the psychopath who dresses in his mother's clothes and keeps her bones in the attic.'
'Which type are you?'
'Do you see any dresses?'
'I don't see a typewriter.' countered Nancy.
'You're funny,' I said grinning 'I hope your husband gets that about you.'
'So do you think you'll write a story about me?' Nancy asked, linking my arm as we cut across Windward towards the Motel for Movie Stars.
'Probably, I write about fucking a lot.'
'Why's that?'
'It's the only honest thing in the world. The only thing truly worth writing about.'
I snuck her down the corridor, past the slumbering weekend warrior who guarded the desk and looked the other way while the local working girls borrowed a room for an hour or two. Sliding the chain across I locked the door and turned the lights on.
Slipping out of her shoes Nancy dropped a few inches before flat footing it across the cold, thin carpet to my resting typer. The Remington was cool. The aborted attempts at literacy painfully plain to see. Mocking me with their deadlines.
'So what's this one about?' she asked thumbing robotically through page after page of prose.
'Everything.' I said sparking up a cigarette before removing my jeans.
She followed suit unzipping her dress before dropping one
shoulder, then another and shedding it the way a snake does skin. Nancy was late thirties but she had the body of a twenty year old and fucked like she was in her teens. Screwing when you had more stamina than time to expel it is excellent. You never quite realise how good you are at it until you no longer have the knees.
Unhooking her bra she flung it at my face, thwacking me across the nose and extinguishing my cigarette. Flicking it towards the bathroom I dropped pant and gave her a glimpse of what she'd been teasing all night.
'My, my…' she said, licking her lips like a hungry bear 'come to Mama.'
I lifted her up into my arms, she was tall but weighed next to nothing.
Jimmy had a short fat dick that fell out whenever they fucked. The only thing shorter than Jimmy's prick was his temper and when he found out about his wife's weekend releases he exploded on her and it made the evening news.