Lawrence Block - Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man

Well, if nothing else, Lisa love, I can at least tell you what you missed out on. You already know a lot about Rozanne, because I remember I sent you a copy of a letter I wrote to Rozanne herself. Suffice it to say that the situation worked itself out surprisingly well, and that the cloistered Italian virgin was turned into a sexual dynamo by the simple expedient of—

No, come to think of it, I’m not going to tell you how I did it.

Some other time, perhaps.

You’ll want a description of Rozanne, and of Ellen.

I’ve already described Ellen for you, but how do I know if you keep all my letters as faithfully as I keep yours? Here we go, from a letter I wrote to Steve Adel:

“On my right, Ellen Jamison, red-haired and slim-hipped and flat-chested and freckled. If her father ever loses his several million dollars, she can always earn a living posing for Norman Rockwell. She even has braces on her teeth.”

And now a description of Rozanne, from another letter to Steve:

“But one look at Rozanne and a guy like you would begin to salivate. The easiest way to describe it for you, Steve, is like so — picture your ultimate unattainable ideal in tits, improve on it, and you’ve got Rozanne... Aside from her breasts, Rozanne is just an average beautiful girl. Long black hair, dark complexion, fierce eyebrows, deep, liquid dark-brown eyes, and a strong nose and chin. A slim, supple body that is far too slim and supple for those breasts (but who’s complaining, right?) tapering to a tiny waist and widening to a perfectly round ass. Hips designed for easy childbearing and joyful childconceiving. Good legs. Not great legs, but damned good legs.”

So there the three of us were in our apartment.

It was awkward at first, I’ll admit it. See, Rozanne had never made it with a girl before, and she was nervous about it, and the nervousness was contagious, as nervousness so often is. We had talked about it, Rozanne and I, but talking about it is not the same thing as doing it.

Rozanne was all for it, actually. She liked to talk about what she would do in a situation like this, or have me talk about what the daughters of Lancaster had done with each other. Talking about it served as an exciting prelude to sex for her. But now Ellen was right there in the room, and we all knew we were all going to ball, and none of us were coming right out and saying so, and it created a certain degree of tension.

Rozanne asked what kind of a summer Ellen was having.

“A dreary one,” Ellen said. “Perfectly drab. There are no people around.”

I said, “I gather nothing happened with Ralph.”

“His name isn’t Ralph.”

“I didn’t really think it was, but I couldn’t remember it for some reason.”

“It’s Ronald.”

Rozanne said, “How could you forget that? Ronald as in Rabbit.”

“It guess that’s why I forgot.”

“I wish I could forget,” Ellen said. “He’s Ronald Rabbit, all right.”

“Oh, then something did happen.”

“Barely. He came while he was on the way to the bed. It won’t be hard to follow your advice about not falling in love with him, Larry. And he won’t fall in love with me. He won’t even look at me. My poor mother.”

(Oh, I forget to tell you, Lisa. Ralph — I mean Ronald — is Ellen’s mother’s current husband. But not for long, if Ellen is to be believed.)

Well, that at least got the conversation around to the topic of sex. Next, I told Ellen to come over and give me a kiss because I had forgotten how braces tasted. (She wears them on her teeth.) (Where else?)

We have a long absorbing kiss, and then I went over and kissed Rozanne, and then I said, “Well, that’s two sides to a triangle. Now why don’t you two kiss and make out?”

Rozanne’s face took on a troubled look. She had already told me once or twice that she could see herself doing all sorts of more obviously sexual things to a girl, but couldn’t quite picture herself kissing one.

Ellen didn’t share this hangup. She went right over and put her arms around Rozanne and kissed her full on the mouth, and I looked at the two of them, and all at once my pants felt too tight.

Rozanne’s face was all flushed when the kiss ended, but whether this was from excitement or embarrassment I couldn’t say. Perhaps a mixture of the two. She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed and Ellen sat next to her and put her head on her shoulder. (Put her head on Rozanne’s shoulder, that is to say. It’s a lot easier to describe situations involving only one person of each sex, let me tell you. As soon as there are two girls in the game, pronouns start getting screwed up.)

Rozanne looked down at her, then put an arm around her. “God,” she said, “you’re just a kid.”

“I know.”

“It’s scary.”

“It must be,” Ellen said. “After all, you’re old enough to be my older sister.”

“Well, when you put it that way—”

“Have your breasts always been that big?”

Rozanne’s color deepened. “I wouldn’t say always .”

“When?”

“Well, just about since I was your age. Wait a minute, let me think. You’re sixteen? No, they were still growing then, because I went to an E cup just two months after I turned seventeen.”

“Somehow I’m not encouraged. An E cup!”

“Right now I’m not wearing anything. Larry doesn’t like me to wear a bra. He says he likes to watch me bounce.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“But I have to at the office. It’s a rule they have; everybody has to wear a bra.”

“Even the men?” I put in. But neither of them paid any attention.

“I don’t blame them , either,” Ellen said. “If you bounced around the office, nobody would get any work done. I’m not wearing a bra either. Big beastly deal. There’s nothing to bounce. When I don’t wear a bra, nobody notices.”

“Well, don’t let it get to you, Ellen.”

“I wish I was built like you.”

“Are you kidding? I used to walk around feeling like Elsie the Cow. And the men are terrible. I wouldn’t mind if they just wanted me for my body, but it wasn’t even my body, it was a small part of my body.”

“Small?”

“I mean, it’s no fun going through life following your tits from room to room.”

“I suppose. I hope I’m not bringing you down now, making such a fuss over them, but I can’t help it.”

“No, of course not.”

“They’re beautiful. Pardon me, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Oh, please.”

“You’re adorable. You make me feel all funny inside.”

“Honestly?”

“Cross my heart.”

“May I cross your heart?” Ellen grinned impishly and drew a cross with the tip of her finger, first a vertical line from the hollow of Rozanne’s throat down almost to her waist, then a horizontal line from one nipple down the slope of the breast and across the forbidden valley and up the slope of the other breast to its nipple.

“Oh,” Rozanne said.

“Maybe you wouldn’t mind taking your sweater off.”

“First kiss me.”

They kissed and Ellen’s hands fastened on Rozanne’s breasts.

“Oh,” Rozanne said again.

“Now take your sweater off.”

“Yes.”

“In fact, maybe you could take everything off.”

“That’s a very good idea. You, too.”

“Sure.”

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to relax with you. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get in the mood.”

“And?”

“Silly of me.”

“Oh, Rozanne!”

“Just the way you look at my tits makes me hot. Do whatever you want to me. Anything.”

“Lie down. Do you like when I touch them? I want to kiss them. Your nipples are bigger than my breasts. My mother didn’t breastfeed me. God forbid that anything should happen to her precious figure. That, and my mother hangup, and not having a decent figure myself—”