Charlotte's Sexy Web Ch. 02

"I still like that hat though." It had been on her head the entire time.

Then I said, "From the way your ass looks I don't think you'll be on any barstools soon."

That got through; she looked over her shoulder. This seemed to be only Charlotte No. 2 and the look was venomous.

"What is that look supposed to be? Is that your version of a bad girl's pout?"

She silently mouthed something and I could read her lips, Fuck you.

I laughed at her, "I should hang a sign on you, 'I've been spanked because I've been a bad girl.'"

I customarily didn't prolong this stage. I had one more act planned for this comedy/drama but I was considering dropping it. Maybe I had had enough amusement for today.

"You can rub your bottom now if you wish. Corner time is over."

In a moment she was back on the couch again, looking at me from the same position as before.

She said, "So what happens now?"

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"You tell me; it's your show."

It was an opening perhaps to continue my plan. Then she said something that triggered me, made me decide to do that final act. What she said was perhaps not that bad, ambiguous even. But it set things in motion.

She said, "So, you got to live out your jerk-off fantasy. Was it everything you hoped for?"

"Well, it was really for your benefit, not mine - but yes, it was very satisfying." I didn't let her get the next word. I said, "I am feeling kind of hungry. I think I'll go over to that Chinese place on Eighth Avenue." I thought that was clever; it mirrored one of her comments from our game in June.

Both Charlottes seemed puzzled. I continued, "I know I have to deal with waiter service but it seems worth it."

"Well I'm going too." There was more than a bit of worry in that.

"No, I was going by myself."

"But then you're coming back here, right?" It seemed that her voice was firming up.

"No, I'm going home after that."

"Are you going to see that girlfriend of yours?" Somehow that would be an acceptable excuse I guess.

"No I'm not, I just have some things to do. What did you expect?"

"I expected that maybe, no not maybe, but definitely, you would bang me." She had a strangely formal tone in her voice. I thought of some rich lady dressing down an employee of a country club.

"Oh, I see, you admit that you're horny now."

"Well, Christ, that's what you wanted right?"

"Too bad, like I had to do myself last time, wank yourself, you selfish twat." Why did I have so say something that nasty? What ugly part of myself was I revealing here? I had launched a grenade into a mine field, just to see the explosions. These were indeed impressive.

She stood up, "You little fucking asshole, you're finally getting your revenge."

"It's not really revenge." I was shocked at how fast I was losing my nerve.

Now she was loud, very loud, "If you are getting out of my house then get the fuck out now!"

That seemed good advice. I got up and moved so that the couch was between us. Even though the mines were now exploding through a chain reaction I launched one more grenade.

It came out sounding like a schoolyard taunt, "You bitch, you're such a cock-tease." That wasn't fair, she had been just about to prove that wrong, but the point of no return had passed.

She got a bit quieter now, which was even more menacing. "You see that window?" That was the one with the air conditioner. "It's three stories up. If I send you out that way you'll break your neck, at the very least."

She was moving to go around the couch. I moved quickly towards the door. As I opened it I heard, again not too loudly, "I could absolutely kill you right now."

I admit I was afraid. I believed she had the physical strength to take me on if she was motivated - and she was obviously motivated. Having the apartment door between us was not enough; the building door wasn't enough either. As I walked along the block I kept looking back to see if I was being followed.

Why had I blown my chance to make it with Charlotte No. 2? Worse yet, I may have damaged or wrecked my relationship with No. 1. I had, just for the fun of emotional experimenting, acted like both an asshole and a coward. If I was at loose ends this summer, I didn't need role-plays. I could have found entertainment in reading, going to Mets games, and simply having a normal love affair with Charlotte. Or maybe I should do something productive like putting in more hours at work.

When I got to 23rd Street I calmed down a bit. I knew she wasn't going to come through the streets of Chelsea hunting me with a knife from her kitchen. I tried to delay it for the necessary fifteen minutes but I had lost track of time. I glanced at the subway entrance where my other girlfriend Michelle and I had our first kiss last year. When I couldn't stand to wait any longer I dialed Charlotte from a pay phone.

"Hello?"

I jumped right in, "Charlotte, would you like me to get something for you? I'm right here by the restaurant."

Her voice came through level, normal, "Sure, let me think." Then I got her order; it was a simple matter to memorize it. I said, "As soon as they have it ready I'll bring it over."

"I'll be here."

When she opened the apartment door this time we looked warily at each other. Her hat was off but her glasses were on. I knew she didn't want to miss any of my expressions.

She said, "Come on in."

I sat down my couch and put the bags on the table. She sit next to me, on my left. I didn't apologize but I immediately got into explanations, "I remember I told you last time, these games can get pretty intense."

"I know you did, I thought I went in with my eyes open."

"And I also said it sometimes takes a day or two or maybe even more to unwind completely."

She nodded and waited. Then she offered, "I masturbated when you were out, just as you knew I would."

I was bothered that she had shared that with me. I had to stifle saying, I'm sorry. I was still in the stage of seeing her as a stranger, someone I had one meet only once before and that was a month ago. Switching back to my regular life with her wasn't so easy.

I noticed her underpants still on the floor. I tried to lighten things a bit, "So you did a Broadway boogie-woogie?"

"Excuse me?"

I pointed down, "The design on your underwear, it looks like the painting."

"That's because the design is the painting."

"Really? Where did you get them?"

"On Bleecker Street, where else could you get Mondrian-themed panties?"

We must have relaxed a bit at that. She lifted her skirt and took my hand, "Here, feel how wet I am."

What I really wanted to do was kiss her. I was encouraged that when we did she was eager, not tentative. Then she put her head on my shoulder and sobbed, twice. She pulled back and I saw that she was crying real tears. I had really hurt her, not with the brush but with my words.

She said, "I know this is kind of silly."

"No, it isn't silly. I've been there with Michelle." I remembered when "Sherri" had punched me in the balls, when "Tammy" had pulled a knife on me. "The roles are made up but the feelings are real."*

"We seem to be really get off on messing with each other's heads."

"You admitted last time that you enjoyed in some way," I said.

She pondered that for a moment and then looked at the bags of food, "That smells pretty good. I think this time it will be the food first, then the sex, okay?"

*******

The next morning after our breakfast of Cheerios and coffee she gave me a large manila envelope.

"What is in this?"

"Take a look at it later. I want this back, so take care of it, but you can borrow it for a while."

I shrugged and accepted her vague answer as part of the quirkiness of our relationship. Later on when I was on the subway I opened it and took out the photo inside. It was not a snapshot, it was a large print, a black and white picture in portrait mode.

It showed a much younger Charlotte standing in what seemed to be a schoolyard or park. I flipped it over and someone had written "Graduation, Middlesex Middle School, Darien, June 1963." I pondered how this serious-looking young girl had evolved into the serious yet witty woman that I knew now. Ok, so you have two other girlfriends in rotation right now, but you love Charlotte too.

By the time I was fourteen myself, in 1969, Charlotte was twenty and going through her hippie year in the East Village and I was going to Boy Scout camp for the last time. Anyway, why did she give me this photo?

Somehow I didn't want to think too closely about that. I looked up and noticed that somebody - almost surely an adolescent - had changed the roll signs in my car. According to those, I was riding a nonexistent FF train traveling between the improbable terminals of Far Rockaway and Brighton Beach. I used to do that myself around 1969 - change the destination signs for some kind of fun. It wasn't malicious, although it may have disoriented passengers along the route. I just wanted to see a train roll out with an unusual set of signs

I looked back at the photo and it struck me that Charlotte was - maybe unconsciously - trying to emphasize the age difference between us. I knew she was planning to finish her degree by next June, less than a year from now. Do we perhaps both understand that to be the expiration date on our relationship?

**********

* "Shari" is a character in a role play described in the story linked here. "Tammy" is another character in a story that hasn't been published yet.

[Dear readers: okay, there is no money shot/penetration/coupling in this chapter; that occurs off-stage. But it was depicted in Chapter 1 and will be depicted in Chapter 3. As New York subway conductors sometimes say on the PA system, "We appreciate your patience. There is a train right behind this one.]