Come On In by Charles Bukowski Read Free Book Online

even a
    piano
    and there was also a
    guitar
    and while we sipped
    white wine
    she’d sit on the
    floor
    and play the
    guitar
    and sing songs
    her own lyrics
    godawful stuff
    about the
    soul
    and I’d go to the
    window
    and look out and
    say
    “nice view but let’s
    work out.” 

    “work out?”
    she’d ask. “what
    do you mean?” 
    “I mean
    I’ll suck your tits
    and stuff.” 
    “I want you to hear
    this new
    song.” 
    she’d start right
    in. 
    she had an awful
    voice but
    nice long
    hair. 
    I’d get playful
    and hammer on the
    piano
    just so I wouldn’t
    have to listen
    to
    her. 
    I was in a bad
    way: in between
    real women
    and just
    doing time
    with
    her. 
    one night I
    asked her,
    “listen, how do you
    make it?”
    “make it?” 
    “I mean
    how do you pay the
    rent, all
    that?” 
    “oh, I’m a marriage
    counselor.”
    “really?”
    “yes.”
    “you been married?”
    “3 times.”

    I finally stopped going
    to her
    place
    but somehow
    she found out where
    I lived
    and then came
    to see
    me. 
    she said we couldn’t have
    sex
    because she was going to
    be married again
    and didn’t want to be
    untrue
    to him. 
    she described
    her boyfriend
    in detail
    to me
    then took out her
    guitar
    and started
    singing. 
    later that night
    I sodomized her
    and told her
    not to
    come
    around any
    more. 
    I got lucky:
    she
    didn’t. 
    soon after that
    I met a plump
    Jewish girl
    who promised
    she’d
    save me from
    myself. 
    I thought
    that would be
    a very good
    idea. 

sex sister
    there were 4 of them between the ages of 30 and 45 and
    all they talked about was men and sex, I mean,
    it was all-consuming, to them there wasn’t anything
    else. 
    I was living with the youngest sister and she had me
    performing sexual acts I had never even heard of
    before.
    “now, let’s try this.”
    “all right.” 
    at first it was lively, adventurous, even
    humorous
    but
    as the months passed and the nights added up I
    began to resent it, like—oh, here we go with SEX
    again!
    (she also liked to do it in strange places like public
    parks or in automobiles while I was driving.) 
    I began to feel that all the sisters were crazy; in fact,
    one of them had been in a madhouse (the one I was with). 
    the sisters had boisterous, screeching laughs, really
    rather ugly laughs
    and I began drinking more so I could tolerate
    them and their laughter. 

    the drinking made the sister I was with quite angry
    because sometimes I would just go to sleep
    instead of performing. 
    I finally told my lady that I couldn’t take it anymore
    and that it was over and she seemed to accept that at first
    but finally it was not to be so:
    she began to phone me continually, mostly at night,
    around 3 or 4 a.m.: “YOU’VE GOT SOMEBODY THERE,
    HAVEN’T YOU?” 
    she followed me everywhere. once I took some clothes in
    to the cleaners and when I came out my car was nearly
    destroyed—ripped upholstery, shattered windows, torn
    dashboard, all within 3 or 4 minutes.
    it looked as if a tiger had been in the car. 
    another time I was making love to another lady when my
    bedroom window was
    smashed open and there was the sister’s face, twisted, spitting
    at me, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” then she was
    gone. 
    the lady in bed was terrified, trembling. “what was
    that?”
    “nothing, baby, nothing.”

    the sex sister also tried to murder me a couple of times in a couple
    of different ways and just missed both
    times.
    let me tell you that the police weren’t much
    help, they picked her up but she somehow convinced
    them that I was at fault. 
    “there’s nothing wrong with that lady,” they told me,
    both times.
    two squads of officers. 
    maybe she had sex with the whole gang of
    them? 
    fortunately, as the months went on she gradually abandoned her
    terrorist attacks until finally it was just a weepy
    phone call or two and then a letter or two, then
    silence. 
    she probably found somebody who could perform all the