Calypso by Ed McBain Read Free Book Online Page B

a doctor?"
        "Get a checkup every day," she lied.
        "Still," he said, shaking his head. "Forty dollars."
        She said nothing. He was already hooked.
        "Well, okay," he said, "I guess so."
        She looped her hand through his arm, and stepped under the umbrella with him.
        
***
        
         Sister woman, black woman, why she do this way?
         On her back, on her knees, for the white man pay?
         She a slave, sister woman, she a slave this way,
         On her knees, on her back, for the white man pay.
         On her knees, sister woman, is the time to pray,
         Never mind what the white man he got to say.
         Let the white girl do…
        
***
        
        "This is my first time with a colored girl," the man said.
        "Always a first time," she said. "Change your luck. You want to let me have the forty, please?"
        "Oh, sure," he said, "of course," and took his wallet from his rear pocket, and pulled out a sheaf of bills. "What's your name?" he asked.
        "C. J.," she said. She waited while he searched for the forty. She once had a John ask her if she could break a C-note. Surprised hell out of him when she dug the change out of her bag. Thought he was going to get a free ride, the jerk. Can you break a hundred? Sure, honey, how you want it? Twenties or tens? This same room right here. Sometimes they let her use a room in one of the massage parlors, when things weren't busy with the regular girls. Go in there, mirrors on the walls, bottles of oil all different colors on the floor, think you were in an Arabian whorehouse someplace. This room here at the hotel was costing her five bucks for however long it'd take her to blow this dude and send him on his way. Double bed and a dresser, sink in the corner, easy chair over by the window, shade on it, no curtains. Five bucks for a half hour at most. She was in the wrong business, she should be a hotel owner someplace.
        "You gettin that forty?" she said.
        "Yes, yes," he said. "Do you mind singles?"
        "Singles? Forty dollars in singles?"
        "I'm a waiter," he said, as if that explained it…
         "I'm gettin to be a waiter, too," she said, "waitin for the forty."
        He looked at her again, and then laughed and said, "Sorry," and began counting out the forty for her, one bill at a time, onto the palm of her outstretched hand. She listened to him counting it out, thinking the damn fool would spend all night paying her, never would get down to business here.
        "… thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, and forty," he said triumphantly. "I hope this'll be good."
        "It'll be real fine," she said. "Don't you worry. You want to go wash yourself now?"
        "Wash myself?"
        "Mm, wash your little ole dick, honey. Way I stay clean is to make sure you're clean."
        "Yes, good," he said. "Very good. Yes."
        "This your first time with a hooker?" she asked.
        "No, no."
        "I'll bet it's your first time," she said, smiling.
        "No, I've been around," he said, and went to the sink in the corner.
        "But you never been asked to wash yourself before, huh?"
        "Oh, sure I have," he said.
        "Wash it good now," she said, and climbed onto the bed. She was wearing no panties. She opened her legs wide, figuring she'd give him a shot of the beaver when he turned around, maybe talk him into a fuck at sixty. Blow jobs were quicker, though. All percentage, she guessed. Come on, you asshole, she thought. I said wash it, not sterilize it. He turned from the sink, saw her lying there with her legs wide open, and damn if he didn't blush!
        "Come on over here," she said, smiling.
        He had a little white dick, was drying it with one of the hand towels as he came toward the bed. He was still blushing, little bald honky in his fifties, blinking at her behind his glasses, blushing red