James Cain - The Cocktail Waitress

To the assistant manager, he said: “Suite’s fine-thanks.”

When we were alone, Earl said, “Now I don’t know about you, Joan, but after a wedding, a car ride, and a plane trip, I could do with a little bed rest.”

“Oh, I’m quite tired too.”

But once more the drawstring pulled in my stomach, as I still didn’t quite know what to expect.

I found out soon enough.

Both our bedrooms opened onto the sitting room, and as he stepped into his, he half whispered, in a friendly confidential way: “I’ll be getting my things off.” It seemed to mean more to come, and when I went to my room, I couldn’t make myself undress. I put my things away, then sat down to think, but managed only to feel numb. When there came a rap on the door I called: “Come.” But I sounded muffled and strangled and queer. Then he was there in pajamas and slippers and robe. “So!” he exclaimed, very friendly. “Thanks for waiting. Now I can see the whole show.”

I’ve spoken of my temper, and now I wrestled with it, trying to hold it back. I couldn’t. “What show?” I heard myself say, sounding ugly.

“Why, as your husband, I’d like to watch you undress. Fact of the matter, I’ve been looking forward to it.”

I wanted to do what I did to Tom, flatten his ears with slaps, but did nothing at first but sit there, swallowing, trying to get myself under control. Then: “Are you sure that’s recommended?” I asked. “After all I’m anatomically normal, and might have an anatomically normal effect.”

“So? I’m normal too. All God’s children are normal. I can only go so far, but that far at least I mean to go-here, I’ll take that coat.”

He took it from me and hung it up in the closet. “Raise your arms, I’ll lift off that dress.”

I did, and quite expertly he slipped it off and let me take it. I hung it up, beside the coat, and rolled the closet door shut. That left me in bra and pantyhose, and I didn’t know which to take off first. I stepped out of my shoes, rolled the closet open again, found my trees on the floor where I’d put them, pushed them in, and set the shoes under the dress, the toes pointing to the room. Then I took off the bra, and put it on the shelf above the hangers. But as I was still reaching up, his hands were cupping me in, raising my breasts, while breath blew on my neck. I wanted to cry out, to bite, to rear away. I had to think of my darling Tad, to remember what I’d been told by Mr. Eckert, that I must never withhold what a husband could legally claim.

I said: “You can’t-your condition-”

He buried his face in the back of my neck, at the same time pulling me close, and kneading my breasts with his fingers. This time, I had to swallow hard to keep the plane dinner from spilling out on the floor. “I’d like to finish undressing,” I told him after a moment. “If you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

He stepped back and I stepped from the closet back into the room. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard, but he had a smile on his face and his hands still outstretched toward me like little seeking mouths. I slipped off the pantyhose, tossing them up beside the bra, but had hardly done it before he was on me again, one hand over my heart, the other over the most private, sensitive, personal part of a woman’s body, so I had to clamp my mouth shut for fear I’d scream. I knew I dared not fight him off, but also knew I had to end this somehow or I’d lose my mind. Presently, with one hand I slipped under his hand topside, and with the other under his hand below: “Please,” I whispered. “I’m human too, and there’s a limit to what I can take.”

He eased off, and from the bureau I got out my nightie, a black one with lace yoke, and put it on. When I looked at him he was panting, with sweat standing out on his forehead, not a pretty sight. I said: “Now, if the doctor was right about you, if he knew what he was talking about, it’s time you went to your room. It’s time you went to bed.”

“But Joan, tell me: You wanted me didn’t you? You want me now- say it just once, so I know.”

“I will not say it.”

I made it sound very strict, schoolteacherish and cross. “If I ever said how I feel, God only knows what you’d do. You’re a wonderful man, Earl K. White, but I don’t trust you, even a little bit. And waking up here in London with a distinguished corpse in my arms, as you once put it, is not my idea of a honeymoon.”

It was not, on the whole, unflattering, and in a moment he said: “O.K.” And then, “O.K., O.K., O.K.”

“You can kiss me now, goodnight. But just a kiss.”

He kissed me, very quick, very dry, very proper.

“Now-” I said, stern.

He left me alone, stumbling out, almost in a state of collapse.

I got into bed, and could turn out the light at last. As I lay there, staring out at the London night, I knew I’d got myself into something.

If I slept I don’t know. I must have, but I was awake at daybreak and decided I had to get up. But when I put my foot out of bed I did it softly, making no whisper of noise. I opened the bathroom door an inch at a time, so I could go in, wash my face, comb, and put on my pantyhose. I went back in the bedroom, walking on stocking feet and not putting my shoes on until ready to go out. Then, a little bit at a time, I opened the sitting room door to peep if he was there. He wasn’t and I tiptoed through, making the hall and closing the door silently. Then I scooted for the stairs, not punching the elevator button for fear it would keep me there, waiting in the hall. Our suite was on the third floor, and I wound my way down and into the lobby. A clerk was at the desk, working on some sort of paper, but I simply said, “Good morning,” as though it meant nothing at all that a young bride should be up and out at six in the morning after her wedding night. Then I was on the street, walking.

The sun hadn’t come out yet, the whole place was veiled in fog and completely deserted, in spite of which I began to feel better. I walked to Trafalgar Square, which I knew from pictures I’d seen of it, to a statue of Queen Victoria, and on to a big ugly building I didn’t recognize. A police officer was there, as well as a sentry, and when I asked them what it was, the sentry said, “Buckingham Palace, ma’am.” A slight chill went over me. It was, I knew, the residence of the Queen, and if I’d ever envied her I didn’t anymore. Having to live in such a horrible place, I thought, must certainly take the fun out of the rest.

I decided I’d come far enough and turned around to walk on back. Now people were out, most of them women, who I knew by their looks were servants of one kind or another. And I was suddenly upset, that to make a living they had to get out at such an hour-it was still not yet seven. When I got back to the hotel it came to me that in some ways I liked the country a lot, in other ways not at all.

When I got back to the hotel I stopped at the desk to send a cable to Ethel. By now, of course, I knew the papers must have had the marriage of Earl K. White, but courtesy called for a wire from me, so I wrote one that began, “Surprise, surprise,” and then told her, and wound up, aiming for a friendly tone, with “Love, see you soon, Joan.” I paid for it myself, without it being charged to the room. Then I went up to the suite, to face my lord and master.

He came out of his bedroom with a razor in one hand, his face all lathered up, and wanting to know, “Where’ve you been?”

I told him “Out,” and then gave him a kiss like the one I’d allowed him the night before, a peck. He reacted so fast that it startled me, changing from annoyance to surprised affection, and pleading for “one more” as though it were something from heaven. I gave him one, realizing suddenly something I hadn’t quite got through my head before: that his feeling for me, though so far as I was concerned repulsive, was real. Or in other words, if I chose, I could have this man utterly, wind him around my finger and make him do as I wished any time I chose. And I thought to myself, then choose. He has all that you want out of life, not only for you but your child. So get on with it, get on with him, so life can move forward.