I watched it happen as if a porno movie, male bodies moving
over her, beasts getting their piece, while I sat helpless staring, a pathetic
19 year old with the illusion she was my girl and would stay loyal.
Sledge Hammer Harry had warned me about her when I got the job
in the print factory where she also worked. She had slept with his son and law,
and likely other workers at the factory.
Too young, too much in love with a slightly older woman, I
didn’t listen.
I paid no mind to the stories about her nefarious deeds and
her insatiable appetite no ordinary man (least of all me) could satisfy, such her
high school reputation and what she did under the viewing stands with the
entire team, or that camping trip she took in Colorado where she tried (and
largely succeeded) in fucking one man after another until she got to them all
and still felt horny.
I though all that would end when she took up with me and we
moved to LA, getting an apartment of our own like a married couple.
The knock on the door was the beginning of the end, a census
taker who became taken with her, and her with him, despite my being in the same
room with them, leaving me relieved when he finally vanished back into the
night out of which he had come, showing up a few days later with five of his
friends and a shit load of drugs in order to party, distributing LSD as if it
was candy, and neither of us knowing much gobble up the pills as such.
I drifted into a haze, unable to distinguish real from unread,
and she, right from wrong.
The census taker taking more than the census, hands plying
her chest, laying her down on the oriental rug to take even more, he followed
by his friends, all of whom smiled at me in my stupor, she laughing as if each
of them was an old friend, taking turns at each doorway, front and back and up
top as she kept her mouth busy, and later, when they had gone, she telling me
it was no big deal, telling me I needed to get used to it, that it would happen
again.
“A girl has her needs,” she claimed.
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