Лоуренс Блок: A Time to Scatter Stones

“Yes! Not for the sex, but because it was the right way for the evening to end. And because it was nice being his girlfriend.”

All of this was interesting, even fascinating, but we’d wandered a long way from the real subject. I said, “But this fellow on the phone, he never wanted you to be his girlfriend.”

“No, he wanted a working girl. ‘Do this, do that.’ What he wanted us to do was mostly vanilla, but I was getting paid and he wanted me to earn my money.”

“And what did he want now?”

“To come over. To have sex with me.”

Elaine: “I don’t suppose you told him to shit in his hat.”

Ellen grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anybody that,” she said, “although I have to admit I like the way it sounds.” She turned to me. “I didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t give me the chance. ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’ Click! End of conversation.”

“And he was there fifteen minutes later?”

“Downstairs with his finger on the buzzer. One long and two short, so I would know it was him. Believe me, I already knew it was him.”

“And?”

“I buzzed him in. And when he knocked on my door I opened it, and I made him the cup of coffee he asked for, and when he said, ‘C’mon, sweetie. I want to fuck you—’ ”

“You let him,” Elaine said.

“I didn’t know what else to do. At every stage, I never knew what else to do. On the phone, and when he buzzed, and when he knocked on my door, and when he asked for the coffee. Every step along the way I heard No in my mind, and I kept on saying Yes .”

“All the way into the bedroom.”

“And onto the bed.” She looked at me, as if it was important that I understand. “It was easier,” she said, “to go along than to say no to him. And he was so confident, so sure we were going to do things his way. And, you know, he’s a big man, and I don’t know if he’s strong but he looks strong. If he really wanted for us to have sex, what could I do about it?”

“Fucking him,” Elaine said, “was playing it safe.”

“Was it? That’s what I thought at the time, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe a firm No would have sent him home.”

“And maybe it would have got you raped, with a beating thrown in.”

I said, “What happened when he was done? Did he pay you?”

“He was a regular two hundred dollar trick. He got his wallet from his pants and very deliberately put three hundred-dollar bills on the bedside table. And waited for me to be surprised. I guess my reaction wasn’t good enough, because he said, ‘A little extra, Ell.’ ”

“ ‘Ell,’ ” Elaine said.

“ ‘A little extra, because you’re not seeing other men anymore.’ I said that was very nice of him.”

“You were still scared.”

A nod. “I didn’t know what he would do. From the phone call on, I didn’t know what he might do.” She took a breath. “What he did was finish dressing. I pulled on my jeans and a blouse, and he said, all matter-of-fact, that next time he was going to do me in, uh, you know.”

Elaine: “Macy’s window?”

That surprised Ellen, and she laughed a little more than the line deserved. “Oh, God, that’s funny! In my, you know.”

“In your ass.”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say that just now. Yes, he was going to fuck me in the ass. I said what I always say, that I couldn’t possibly do that with him because his dick was way too big. That usually works, they’re too happy hearing that to care that they don’t get to — God dammit, why can’t I fucking say it?”

We waited.

“That they don’t get to fuck me in the ass,” she said.

“How did he react?”

“He just grinned and said it wouldn’t be a problem. After the first couple of times I’d be nicely broken in. So I said it was something I really didn’t care for. That I just didn’t like it.”

“What did he say?”

“That I didn’t have to like it. That all I had to do was take it.”

“What a prince,” Elaine said. “And then he left?”

“I walked him to the door. Then he turned around and took me by the shoulders and kissed me on the mouth. I don’t do that.”

“No, of course not.”

“Except for the Girlfriend Experience, but that was different. I can’t explain how, but—”

“But it was,” I said. “He kissed you and then what?”

“I was shocked. I just stood there. And he said he could do that now, because now he didn’t have to worry where my mouth had been.”

She lost it then, and started to weep. I got out of there and gave Elaine a chance to comfort her in private.

By the time I came back Ellen had regained her composure, and Elaine was filling all the cups with tea. I took a sip of mine and said, “Once he was out of there, I hope you moved.”

“I was out of my apartment within the hour. I threw some things in a gym bag and caught a cab to a hotel. The hotel was too expensive but I had his three hundred dollars, didn’t I?”

“That couldn’t last long at a New York hotel.”

“Not even two days. More like a day, what with room service, which I ordered when I got hungry. A Caesar salad and some coffee, and I think they charged me twenty-five dollars for it.”

“But you didn’t want to leave the hotel.”

“I didn’t even want to leave the room,” she said. “When room service knocked on the door, I was afraid to open it.”

“You’re not still at the hotel.”

She shook her head. “I have some money saved up,” she said, “because I didn’t want to get out of the game and then go hungry. I took whatever cash I had in the apartment, and there’s more money in my account at Chase. So I could have stayed at the hotel, for a while anyway, but I hate to throw money away.” Her eyes locked with mine. “I have to work too hard for it,” she said.

“What did you do?”

“After one night in the hotel I called the same real estate agent who’d found me my place on East 27th. That was four years ago, close to five, but he still remembered me. Or at least he pretended to.”

“You’d be hard to forget,” Elaine said.

“You’re sweet, but I look in the mirror and what I see is a blank canvas. You know, kind of pretty but basically generic.”

“That’s all you see?”

“Pretty much. Who knows, maybe all this shit will put some character in my face.”

“So it shouldn’t be a total loss,” Elaine said.

I said, “When did you hear from him again?”

“He had something to show me that afternoon, a six-month condo sublet on West End Avenue. Fully furnished, down to the linens and towels and the books on the bookshelves, and all I had to do was sign the lease. I moved in right away.”

Elaine: “I think Matt was asking when you next heard from Mr. Perfect.”

I nodded. “Because if you didn’t,” I explained, “there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh, right. I was still there in my head with the real estate guy. I don’t know, two days? Three days? The phone rang and there he was.”

“The phone in the new apartment?”

“The owners had disconnected it when they went overseas. He’s on sabbatical, he’s a tenured professor at Columbia. Comparative linguistics, and I don’t even know what that is.”

“You’ll find out,” Elaine told her. “All you have to do is read all the books on the shelves.”

I said, “He called your cell.”

“That’s right. That’s the only phone I’ve had in a couple of years, ever since I realized it didn’t make any sense to go on paying for a landline.”

“So your phone rang and you answered it.”

She shook her head. “I recognized his number when it showed up on the screen. I let it go to voice mail.”