Treadmill Read Free

woman said quickly. He suspected that she was fearful of losing her longevity commission. He envisioned a bank of middle-aged women, desperate people talking to desperate people.
    “I’m not…” he started. “I just feel….”
    “Lonely and embarrassed that you have to talk to strangers.”
    “Now there’s a canned idea.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Just say what you feel. That’s why you called. You wanted to talk to someone.” There was a brief pause. “You do something to me,” the woman said.
    “I turn you on, right?”
    “You’ve got one sexy voice. Gets my panties wet.”
    “Really?” It was the only response he could think of.
    “You mind if I play with myself while we talk?” she whispered.
    “No.”
    “You can do better than that,” she said, her breathing picking up. “Let’s hear it.”
    “Hear what?”
    “My panties are so wet. Can I push them aside?”
    “Sure.”
    His throat felt constricted and he could not think of anything to say.
    “God, this feels good. I’m taking off my shirt. That okay?”
    “Yeah,” he grunted, not aroused.
    “I’m touching my big tits. I’m lifting one to my mouth so I can suck my nipple.”
    He wanted to hang up, but he could not summon the will.
    “You hard?” the woman said. “I need to know if you’re hard.”
    “Yes,” he lied.
    “Can I get down on my knees and suck it? I want to roll my tongue around its head, kiss your balls. I love to kiss balls.” Another pause. “You still there?”
    “Yeah,” he grunted again.
    “Zip it out baby,” the woman said, her gasping breath getting louder. “Show me that big cock.”
    He hesitated.
    “Would you like to lick my clit, baby?”
    Cooper felt a sob begin somewhere deep inside of him. It finally erupted.
    “Come on, baby,” the woman said.
    He slammed down the receiver. He was panicked. He hated himself.

2
2

    Calculating his situation and his prospects, Cooper concluded that he had started on the slippery slope to total impotence—sexual, economic and psychic. He was thirty-eight years old and he had hit a very bad patch indeed. Maybe he could ride it out. Maybe not.
    He joined the Bethesda Health Club, a gym much older and less glitzy than the other ones opening around the city—but because of that, the initiation fee and monthly dues were a lot less. But the best thing about Bethesda was that his apartment building was just a quick jog away.
    He was determined to exclude everything out of his life, and focus all of his energy on his body. To do this efficiently and completely, he forced himself to adopt a mental condition that required him to accept the absence of time. The present was the only zone Cooper recognized. The present did not move. The present was not relentless. In the present, there was no ambition, no hopes, no dreams, and therefore no desire. There was only the body: tissue, muscles, bones, cells, and everything else that made up its structure. Time didn’t move, but his body did. Chemicals reacted. Calories burned. Muscles hardened. He was relentless in his single minded and obsessive exertion. He reviewed himself in the mirror, willing his muscles to ripple and undulate. It was the only thing he could command. He was determined to exercise himself into oblivion.
    After his workout, he would take a sauna and shower, get dressed, then order a melted Swiss cheese sandwich and a Coke. As he ate at the counter, he would watch the squash games taking place behind thick plate glass windows.
    Parrish would watch the squash games too, indifferent and without enthusiasm. Their taciturn attitude was especially bizarre because Parrish ate at the counter at the same time. Parrish would order a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich on toast without mayo, and a cup of coffee.
    After they observed a couple of games between the professional players, the after-work crowd would arrive and signal Cooper’s departure. He had grown to detest crowds, especially their small talk and