...continued from Part Four
It was morning light when Skip came back to a grumpy me. I greeted him with a half-hearted hug, “Gone a long time, marshmallow man,” He fell into bed, and so did I after calling in sick to work.
In the late morning I got up, left Skip in bed, and went to the Duck Inn for a bottomless coffee and a BLT. A friend of Skip’s named Orv walked in and slid into the booth seat across from me. I managed a smile and said hello, asked, “Where’s Gin?”
“Oh, she’s meeting me here in ten minutes, just enough time for you and me….”
“Don’t go there,” I interrupted, “too early and I am no shit not in the mood for your slimy shenanigans."
Orv pretended to pout. “Whoa! Not even one dance, a whirl around the pastry case? Hey, by the way, Skip sure as hell was up late last night, hanging out at Dinty’s Saloon with that goofball friend of his.”
My head started to whirl. “What? What? The bar? What goofball friend?”
Orv screwed up his face and began looking for an escape route. “Oh god, my BIG mouth, did I let something slip? I’s thinking you’d know. Gotta go.”
I pressed my foot on his real hard under the table, making him wince and oink like a pig. I said to him, “You’re not gotta go anywhere, Orville, you already said Gin is coming here, so you stay put! What goofball?”
Orv lowered his eyes and mumbled something. I pressed hard on his foot again and told him in no uncertain terms to speak up loud and clear, fill me in or die right here and now.
“Oh, you know, he has this weird pal, you know, the one who likes to be pushed around and has a record of peeping tom arrests. Skip and him’s not real close, but I see them sometimes at Dinty’s having beer, mainly ‘cuz they both play the horses, so I look at them with bottles and the Racing Form, just kinda unusual so late last night.” Orv was talking faster and faster, like real nervous. “Know what, Rita? One time I saw the perv at the pool table getting whacked with a pool cue in the hands of the guy he’d just lost to and accused of cheating or something, but he didn’t fight back or try to run. Just leaned against the pool table and took it, grinning away at a couple of giggling girls who were watching.”
Godamighty, what in hell is going on here? I was floored, couldn’t even think of a bye-bye to Orv, just slid out and headed for home. When I confronted Skip, he said he’d talk about it later, had errands to do, but I ran around to the door and blocked his way. Of course he could have pushed me aside like a butterfly, but he stopped, tried to conjure up fictions to account for Orv’s unintentional ratting on him, finally caved and confessed. Turns out he and his wimpleton friend had downed quite a few beers one night when the guy told Skip he’d pay him a thousand dollars to set him up in the closet so he could watch us doing our stuff…..and then he wanted to be discovered and punished. Skip was shocked at first, but had so few hours in at the docks and needed money, so he said okay. That’s what happened.
I backed up and sat on the bed, said nothing. Skip eased himself out the door and was gone. Oh, he came back, but nothing was right after that. We are no longer together, although plenty of times I think of his beautiful heavenly profile and the classic face with those deep-mountain-lake eyes that looked right through me with unmitigated desire, and I shed a tear or two. But let there be no doubt, I’m going to find me a real bruiser, a mean monster of masculinity with huge muscles, big hairy forearms, and massive everything else, and I mean everything, just I know to be cautious to find that kind who crushes everything in his path... except me, who he treats like a princess, the one who needs protection and, more so, the titillating vaginal excitement of seeing what my super bodyguard does to other, lesser males.
Dear readers, can any of you find me that hunk of brutal delights?