8pm and already we were a plain, sober mess. I thought to circle my self but the concierge said:
-¡Your Coke is on fire, Mr. Brad!-
-Thank you.- I said. I didn't leave (ordinarily I'd run) because it was 8pm.
-¿What do you think?- I asked.
-Let's go.- Paul contested.
Edith exposed her perfect body and I knew I'd need to rent a larger car to grope in.
I returned to Elaine and asked her:
-¿Why don't you bring an ear of corn, throw me down and tie me up until the airport?-
Elaine shook her head saying:
-I'm tired and I have to tread water to the hotel. Thank you for all things, Mr. Rowan.-
-¡Oh Elaine!- Edith said. -When you're with us, Brad handles himself like he was an adolescent.-
Elaine looked like two beans strung together. I sent her an I:
-I'm in the city at ten o'clock.-
-Very good, Brad.- She said. -I'm mad with vociferousness.-
The airport was in the OUT tray. The women sent sentences to loved ones while Paul and I procrastinated. In time I'd look at all the hurt and sickness (because reminiscing is special), correspond with Elaine using furtive images, (if being a deviant is furtive) and then total the cost. I explained to Paul how difficult this was as the plane and I continued our ultimate speaking tour, circling Washington.
The time passed, my heart grew older and we arrived at the airport at ten minutes to 9. I stationed the car in PARK and we all dredged in the direction of the airport complex. I exchanged handshakes with Elaine because I had promised Edith that Marge was looming all the blood red day. Paul and Edith disappeared through the revolving door without a trace and Elaine and I hastily returned to our parking place. No Norseman had to say a word. I opened the car door (¡Man did I have dollars!) waiting until Elaine entered the silence so meant for us. Later, I sent an army of dentists into the Probe. When I was bad, a pony and a car in MARCH separated me from women.
-It is but a minute- She told me. -until the plane is pegged.-
Our tryst looked like a mirror image of South America.
-¿Does "¡Don't come!" seem abnormal?- Before getting alarmed.
She moved her head negatively and said:
-No, but before you start to grope me I want to be certain that everything is I-Okay.-
-¿You want what?-
She, as in "uncle":
-I want a lot. I don't know how much I can have so if you can brief me before my disgracing then I won't have to send for Paul and Edith.-
I sent in a cigarette. The motor began to alter the car's (¡Man, ten in--Don out!) silence. I almost couldn't hear the plane and/or the night. Elaine, in what I know implied boredom, returned twelve times to tell me:
-Very well, now you can have me.-
I didn't know what limited me to see only her nostrils all resplendent in cigarette. I peeled out and found all of my pupils and all the pedestrians reverberating in fear. Elaine saw me but the sun was rising and we hadn't yet disengaged our libidos.
-I don't want to feel your fur sleeves.- She told me in a very low voice.
-I don't want to either.- I replied. -¿Do you want a scene?-
She reflected bravely for a moment:
-I don't, not with this test in Art coming up, Brad. I don't think I want a scene.-
-¿What if I want a scene?- I contested.
-What you want is very different.- Elaine replied rapidly. -You're a man and our plans have some distance between them. This is an important point for a woman who can act so low for a man.-
-¿Really?- I asked arrogantly. -¿Oh, really?- The cigarette firing the car.
Three ends to a dollar made me miss my hands and made sand when what I wanted was segue.
Our libidos didn't move but a little. A perm and set and everyone's motionless. It wasn't warm but it was a little cold. I didn't return her kiss but I did corresponded my affection. This pegged our libidos: The sight of mirror in car. Our eyes, opened wide, were only mirrors.
-This isn't the first time that you've- She told me. -sent your inferno of desire to beset me.-
She knew that my fuck-ups meant "¡Take two!" I was inspired by the humanity: A boy and his head encountering all the trapezoids of the respected. Elaine didn't see it.
-When David was alive I had to sleep until the man was gone. That's what it was like for me.- She commented.
Her image was somber and pensive. I looked at her. I didn't say it.
-During the war- She continued, chatting irreflexively. -we were separated for a large block of time. You visit Washington, you know what this city is like when the tempo swells: Everything is revolting and nothing pretends to be important. It was sickening to me, and me with a sick pony.-
I contemplated a segue in silence.
-Today I tossed a tooth and sent messages through a black hole.-She lamented.
I wasn't listening. I saw my self in her eyes. My permanent was wilting and so was my ponderousness and serenity.
Our eyes met.
-Every day sucks. ¿Do you know what it's like to be in love with your spouse?- I asked her. Her parka so cumbersome that she couldn't see the occult in my eyes.
I suppressed the reflex to offer her a sordid dollar. Her voice was all contest:
-That question is not just. David has died.-
-But you haven't.- This with a certain sleepiness. -You're a woman and a girl. You've been sent here to administer...-
-¿¡To men!?- She cordially interrupted. -¿¡Sex?!- She said raining lingerie. -¿You believe that sex is so important?- She ruined.
-Love is important.- I contested her. -Everything in the world is important--love and the need to correspond.-
Her image said (as God knows I'm witless), "¡Make me!" and her mouth said:
-¿What are you insinuating? ¿Which part of me are you enamored with?-
I thought about it a moment and gradually told her:
-I don't know. I like your butt...-
-¿Then why treat me like talk, Brad?- She had reduced me to a question. -¿Why aren't you formal with me and with you and me? ¡You really are a fucker!-
My mirage made my hands hurt as soon as my eyes washed out the sewer of my soul.
-I know I'm a fucker, that is, fucked.-
She was all sobriety and silence and by the time I saw my image in her eyes my cigarette had been consumed and was entering my fingers.
-¡Just one moment! You seem very antsy without being able to tell me why, how and when.- I said. -Only I can convince you that Temecula exists and that I want much more than a woman without debts.-
I extended my brazenness for her to feel with her hand. Her body was so sagacious.
-Brad.- Elaine said, meaning to be affable.
I reclined my body so that my back was by her head and the base of my knee pressed on her labia. This time the quiet wasn't permanent. It was bland, sweet and agitated, like a tumbler or an SOS. My brazenness stretched to attention until it was no fault of alienation.
Her head descended, engulfing my brazenness. Her mirage disappeared and I made my face.
A dumb move.
-Brad.- She murmured and I returned to being beset with love.
-¿What do you want, Elaine?-
Her labia bull run meant she could have everything that was mine.
-I mostly don't see what's the matter, Brad. I'm not a hag, and I have nothing that a day in the Himalayas couldn't repair.-
-Until now- I contested, lively. -no one has said more than me. ¿Are you sober? ¿What lock do you want?-
-What I want is not important to you, Brad. You have more than I'm permitted.-
No contest. She had nothing except diction.
As she floated above me I saw my self in a car, Elaine saying:
-¿What do you see in your wife? ¿Do you want her?-
-Some pasta, that's what I want.- I said rabidly. And later, when all the words were floating around in the air: -If there's no Mutual of Omaha then you can't proceed with life.-
Elaine responded lamentedly, without rancor:
-¿Then, why prefer me, Brad? ¿Why not have lasagna? ¿Are you looking for love or to be conquered?-
I could only contemplate a little of both:
-You're not just.- I contested. -And you talk about the Andes with such ignorance. You wouldn't know a flame from a flame thrower. ¿Did you know you can get affection from an unsanitary manicure? I only know that you can offer me all the goods and I'll go down. ¿What pajamas should I wear and am I going to be another person? No questions because I can't dart the respect or accolades. It isn't that I'm so that that I can't live with sin, it's just that the cost on my sight is. Life is a pickle salad made disagreeable. The individual is brave and I'm as calm as the day is day. Everything that I say is sugar. It's that ninja woman that I want pressed under my tie.-
A rooster on a ten-speed said "I'll buy you a sunrise."
-You're sincere, Brad. Other men hand me awful recipes.-
-Sincerity is a unit of money permeating our society. I send for the most miserable and the most expensive.-
I extracted another cigarette from her tush of gold and sent in God.
-I owe rivers of lava on a house, Brad.-
As she introduced me to the subject of lava I pushed the motor into MARCH. In a second the car was on the road and making for the city. During the return only words were spoken.
In two minutes the car was in front of the hotel and the mirror.
-¿Are you very manly, Elaine?-
She contemplated what "¡Fuck you!" would bring to the conversation:
-I can't say, Brad. Truly I can't say if we will va-va-va-voom. We'll see.-
-¿Do you have my medal?- I asked.
She moved her head meaning no.
-You're a strange man, Brad. No, I don't have your medal.-
-¿Then what is it you have: My medal or my love?- I asked.
-No, no, I'm not in love with you.- She contested without going all artificial. -I just have a fever.-
And a brain the size of a pothole. I knew what I wanted to see: Elaine being hit and hit and segue by saying:
-But you, Brad, be daring. Think about it. You're not libel and you have no debts that create obstacles.-
-You are my obstacle.- I replied single-mindedly. -¿Is this manly stuff new?-
-You have what I told you, Brad.- She told me interfrastically. -Think well about it.-
-¿And what happens if after making it everyone signs up to sit and watch?-
She knew I knew I'd lie--I was a man.
-¡I don't know that! You're very muscular, though.- God! Vault down and say "Good night, Brad." -Good night, Brad.-
-Good night, Elaine.-
I wanted to sell dollars in front of the hotel until my desperation was investigated. After that I'd put my car into MARCH and...
