The sweat dripped down from his face onto her face, making her lipstick shine. She maintained her phony smile that never changed. She was the one who when he'd gazed into the large prison, the glass area where numbered girls sat (pink lights on the girls' rosy meat) had tried to cover up her number with her towel, so she was the one he'd picked. Reluctance meant guilt and badness, so it was his mission to lock his wings around her and bring her to Hell.
When he tried to kiss her, she pulled away. So he kissed her again and spat into her desperate mouth.
Because he was not an evil angel and because he was off duty, he put his hand on top of her head to keep his thrusts from banging her against the wall. Then he ejaculated right through the condom, a burning manna of nectar and rose-sweat. Now she would become immortal. Now she could suffer forever, as soon as he pulled the trigger.
But she never said anything. She didn't pretend she wanted to be good; she didn't argue, plead, explain, or justify.
And the angel was unnerved by her nothingness, her heavy dark acquiescence. If she had only cursed or pleaded!
I want to be good… he whispered, rising and tiptoeing away.
Within that complex polygon known as a swimming pool, water lilted in dapplings stolen from the throats of blue giraffes. Inside these unsteady zones the fixed rectangles of individual tiles remained, like bones. Along one wall a waterfall had been built to correspond to any number of blue wedding cakes; at the two far ends were blue wells which resembled immense toilets. A fat pale man descended grimly into one of these, looking warily down. Once he was safely inside, the back of his head alone remained visible, rocking slightly like a carrot-top in a breeze. On the outside of his prison another man sat, just above his waist in water, with a gold medal against his hairy breast. He wore blue sunglasses and his forehead was sickeningly white. A blonde lady in green glasses joined him, squatting coyly to keep her buttocks out of the water. From time to time they both looked at their waterproof watches. Then they resumed their gazing down into the pool. After she got out, he stood up and watched her. Then he followed. — Goggles will do it, he whispered. — Behind them, in a canvas pavilion open to the sea, a woman in a purple bikini rubbed lotion in slow circular motions on her soft haunches. Another woman ventured ankle-deep into the pool, her hands on her fat hips as she gazed alertly from side to side. After a long pause, she slashed water from her wrists up to her elbows. She stood for another moment, and then she got out. Ripples went from her like the indentations over a belly's ribs.
The man in the toilet was thinking with a swimmer's breasting motion. He whirled his head to glare at the women. Among them he saw a sinister lady in blue goggles.
You're the one, aren't you? he said. I see your sordid soul.
The lady grinned. — That's right. Do you have a last request?
It's not fair, the Angel said. I always did what I was told.
Now you're talking to please Him, but you know He's disconnected your phone, the lady said.
I only left one unburned. How could that whore matter?
You did a fine job, the lady said. He doesn't argue about that. It's just that your number's up. And you know what, buddy? You were right in what you said. She didn't matter. Because, you see, He doesn't have mercy. Ever. Did you forget that? The sentence says that I'm to burn you forever by inches. Are you ready to start?
The Angel ducked his head under the water, thinking to enjoy the coolness while he could. Then he began to clamber out. There were invisible bars in the sky which the lady swung back for him, unlocking air with the key that had once been his.
This is your towel, the lady said.
The Angel lay down. Inside the giant toilet rang the shrieks of the other punished souls. He tried to enjoy their agony, but couldn't. He stared hopelessly at all the palmtrees as fresh and proud as peacocks' tails.
It was the morning after her first night of work in the Chinese restaurant which was also a dancehall. How many men danced with you? I said.
Two.
And all you did was dance?
She looked me in the eye. — No.
How were they? I said.
Better than you.
Once you told me I was good.
That was a long time ago.
So they were good too, I guess.
The first one made me come six times. He wanted to do it all night, but he hadn't paid for all night, so I made him stop.
How about the second one?
He's so good I'm going to marry him. I can't get enough of him inside me.
How much did he pay?
Nothing. He was so good, I wouldn't take anything from him. I took all the money the first one gave me and gave it to him. That's why I got fired.
And you're happy?
Of course I'm happy. I'm leaving you and I'm going to get married. I'm going to have the best cock in the world all to myself.
I guess you will.
