69 Barrow Street Read Free Page A

Do you have to crawl in bed with everyone you see?”
    “Only with my friends.”
    “And you don’t have any enemies.”
    “That’s right,” she said, smiling.
    He turned away from her. “Leave me alone.”
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Well, what the hell do you want from me?”
    “I told you. I want to talk about the girl.”
    He sighed.
    “She’s very pretty, as I said. I think you’ll like her.”
    “What the hell’s the difference whether or not I like her?”
    “Well,” she said, “you’re going to watch, of course. You might as well like what you’re looking at.”
    “You bitch.”
    She pouted. “That’s not nice, Ralph. You always watch. You know that.”
    He didn’t say anything.
    “You don’t have to,” she said. “You can always get out and leave and take your paints and brushes with you. Of course you’d starve to death, but—”
    “Shut up!”
    She laughed, delighted. She let one hand drop to his thigh and squeezed him, gently. “Or else you can watch. Maybe we can make it more exciting for you this time, dear. Maybe you can have the girl when I’m done with her.”
    Ralph looked at her, puzzled. “But she won’t want that, will she? If she’s a lesbian—”
    “She might not have any choice in the matter, dear. I could help you, if you think it’s too much for you.”
    He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. “You don’t mean—”
    “That’s exactly what I mean.”
    “God! Stella, don’t you have any feeling for people? Don’t you—”
    “Oh, shut up,” she commanded. Suddenly she was bored with the game. It was amusing the way Ralph was so easily shocked, as if he wasn’t as depraved as she herself was. But she didn’t feel in the mood for conversation any longer.
    “Stand up,” she ordered.
    He stood up.
    “Now take off your clothes.”
    He moved to the window to shut it but she stopped him. “Leave it open,” she said. “So what if somebody watches? I don’t care.”
    He started to protest, then stopped and began to remove his clothing. She stood motionless before him until he was completely nude. There was a mocking smile on her face.
    She stepped closer to him until mere inches separated them. Then suddenly she clenched her left hand into a fist and drove it into his solar plexus. When he doubled up in agony her open right hand lashed out and caught him across the face. Her fingers left long red marks where they struck him.
    He didn’t say anything.
    She smiled. “That’s for arguing with me,” she said. “That was your punishment. Now you can have your reward.”
    She reached down and lifted the sack dress to her waist. There was nothing under the dress.
    “I think I’ll leave the dress on,” she said. “It’s fun that way sometimes.”
    He still said nothing. He was numb with anger and desire in equal parts, wanting to love her and possess her and kill her. And so he remained silent and motionless.
    She stretched out on her back on the oriental rug, her dress up around her waist. She looked up at him, a smile playing with the corners of her mouth.
    “Come on,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”
    He took her, furiously and brutally and savagely, and all the while her cruel discordant laughter rang in his ears.

Chapter Two
    M ORNING.
    Ralph Lambert rolled out of the bed gingerly, being careful not to wake Stella. He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Then, before leaving the bedroom, he stood silently by the side of the bed and looked down at Stella.
    She was sound asleep, her mouth pressed against the side of the pillow and her lush white body curled like a cat about to spring. Sleep softened the hard lines around her mouth and eyes and made her far more gentle and feminine than she was when she was awake. She invariably slept nude, and because the night was so warm she had thrown back the covers and slept on top of the bed.
    Ralph saw her with the eye of an artist. While any man would have been captivated and excited by