Harriet Daimler: Darling

He drove the car rapidly down the street, looking occasionally at the girl' s figure, huddled against the door. Mostly he watched the empty road and felt the car glide over the pavement. He turned down Seventh Avenue, and she still hadn' t spoken. At Tenth Street, he stopped the car and turned toward her. She leaned her elbow against the door handle and was already half on the sidewalk, calling, " Thank you," over her shoulder, when he reached over and pulled her back into her seat.

" What' s the hurry? What' syour hurry?"

" I' m tired, Paul," she explained.

" My God," he answered. " You' re fine all night. I really think you' re relaxing and having a good time, but you always make the goodnight the briefest, coldest moment of the day."

" I' m sorry," she said again humbly. " You know me."

" I don' t know you, Gloria. Does anyone know you? Do you ever sit still long enough to be known?"

She was getting impatient, and said, " For crying out loud. How often can you go over the same theme. No, I don' t sit still. No, I don' t like dragged- out goodnights. No, I don' t care if I never see you again. Yes, I' m tired."

" Look, honey," he interrupted her, " I' m not going to rape you."

She smiled cruelly at the suggestion. " No one' s going to rape me. It takes a very cooperative woman to get raped. A man might get me to the floor, but he wouldn' t get further."

Paul said, " Why speculate? Why don' t you let me love you the way I want to? I swear to you Gloria, the way I feel about you, it would be wonderful for both of us. I' d really make you want it. I' d make you want it till you cried for it." And he put his open mouth on her ear. " It' s not fair for a woman as beautiful and sensuous as you to put men off. You were obviously put on earth to satisfy, not torment us."

Feeling his tongue nuzzling wet inside her ear, she shuddered with excitement and horror.

" Get away from me," she said with anger, and he couldn' t hear the terror in her voice. " When I' m willing and ready to give myself to a man, I will. I don' t need you licking my face like a stupid dog to convince me."

His fury relieved the bitterness inside her.

The man was livid at her gross refusal. " You whore," he whispered to her. " You whore with a virgin' s cunt. What are you waiting for? When are you going to give your rare gift away?"

" It' s not that," she told him tiredly. Her voice was calm. " You know it' s not that. It' s just that I' m not interested."

" Not interested!" he shouted. " What the hell are you talking about? You sound as if you' re returning a library book."

" I don' t want it," she screamed. " I hate the whole phony slobbering business."

" You' re a teasing bitch," he spat at her. " And you' ll never know what it means to feel like a woman."

" What does it mean," she mocked, " to feel like a woman? What' s so different and special about being a woman?"

" You fool!" Paul roared. " You' ll never know what it means to spread your knees and say to a man, ' Fill me with your prick because I' m dying from emptiness.'"

" Don' t," she begged. " Don' t talk to me like that. Don' t dare."

" You' ll never know it from me," he continued as if he hadn' t heard. " And no man is going to wait as long as I did. Give it up, baby. Put on pants and wipe the mascara off your eyes and make it with the girls. Mona' s Bar is full of dykes who are just waiting for you. They' ve seen the dead look in your eyes, and they know it' ll take a woman' s hand to make you feel like a woman. You disgust me. You' re worse than a whore."

She listened with rapt pain, thinking, he' s going to hit me when he' s finished, and she waited with an ecstasy she did not understand. Her heart felt as though a strong hand were clutching and numbing it.

" Why don' t you hit me?" she breathlessly demanded.

Paul looked down at her with a contempt that was as cold as his wanting of her had been hot. " I wouldn' t touch you baby," he said. " I' ll just let you rot untouched. The ladies like to get a virgin. When they see the blood on their hands, they know they' ve got them forever." He practically pushed her out of the car without so much as a glance back. She stood motionless till she heard the drone of the engine fade away around the corner of Sixth Avenue. The street lay dark ahead of her.

Oh God, oh God, she thought, I hate men. I hate their hungry faces and their moving hands. I hate them when they press against me and I feel their pants bulging. I' ll never let one love me. Imagine being naked on a bed and having them crawl all over you and pull your legs apart. When you lay flat and broken like a defeated enemy, and they stick their stiff prick in you, that' s the only part of them that' s got feeling left. They' re like crazy animals till they spurt their vicious fluid in you. And then you' re supposed to kiss their feet and pretend that you enjoyed it. They' ll never have me. Nor will a woman. I don' t want some woman' s tongue and long- nailed fingers to stroke me into an excitement that interferes with my thinking and breathing. Yes, I' ll do it myself. And I' ll go to my grave never having been a fool for some sexual machine.

Numbly, Gloria pushed her shoulders against her door. It opened for her, and she closed out the silent street behind her and placed her hand on the dimly lit banister.

At first she didn' t feel the hand that covered hers; her heart was beating so loud in her chest from the distasteful scene with Paul and her thoughts were cutting out the world around her. But as she moved up the first step, she felt the iron- like hold, paralyzing her. She looked down from her height into cruel eyes. The blue of the man' s eyes was so light that his face looked like a portrait painted by a madman who had left the eyes, where the soul would have been, the dead white of the canvas. A shock of black hair covered his head. His mouth smiled grimly at her mute terror.

" Come down off the step, lady," he whispered. " We' re going to have a little party."

She opened her mouth to scream, realizing that no sound could come out of her. And then she felt his knife edging into the small of her back, pressing against her with the frigid indifference of steel.

" I gotta fuck some bitch and you' re the lucky cunt." He laughed soundlessly. " It' s an honor baby, cause I got a cock as big as the Eiffel Tower."

Listening to him, she regained her senses. I' ll talk him out of it, she thought.

" Look, mister," she implored, " I' ll give you all the money I have. I' m a virgin… I' m a virgin and I' m getting married next week. And you' ll ruin my life if you… if you… take me. Because then my fiance will never marry me. You see, he wants a… a… pure girl."

The man looked at her with his vacant eyes. " I like virgins," he whispered. " C' mon virgin, we' ll bleed all over this fancy hall." Effortlessly, he pushed her down to the floor in the little black alcove behind the stairway. She found her voice to scream and he slapped her face until her ears were deafened with a ringing inside her head that cut off the whole world.

" Unbutton my pants, you whore," he commanded.

" No," she gasped, " no, I can' t touch you."

He grabbed her hand and placed it solidly across the mound in his pants.

" Unbutton them you bitch. My prick wants to be free to dig inside of you."

She felt his knife against her ribs. With trembling hands, she unbuckled his belt.

" That' s it! That' s it! Do a good job, virgin."

She moved her fingers to the first button and he shoved her hand deep inside his pants so she could feel his hot, pulsating flesh. " Faster, faster, you cunt," he commanded. Slowly and miserably, she undid the last button. He wore no underpants.