Regiment of Women by Thomas Berger Read Free Book Online Page B

said. “I just couldn’t”
    Charlie displayed his fat palms. “There you are.”
    â€œI’ve got some pride,” said Cornell.
    â€œSo use it to push your mop,” Charlie said.
    â€œSuppose she made a pass at me.”
    â€œThat’s the idea,” said Charlie.
    â€œI couldn’t go through with it. The idea of being touched by that loathsome creature…”
    â€œO.K., then.”
    â€œIt’s difficult enough even if I like the girl.”
    â€œYeah,” Charlie said. “You mentioned that.” He was bored and unsympathetic. He scratched his belly inside the shirt and looked at his nails.
    Cornell swallowed more beer, though he was indeed badly bloated by now, his abdomen pressing against the belt. He also got that way from Coke and other gaseous soft drinks, and sometimes from sheer nervousness. When he suspected he would be offered effervescent beverages, he took the precaution of wearing his panty girdle, but then, of course, he tended to suffocate. It was always a choice of either vanity or comfort. He decided against mentioning the subject now: Charlie’s belly was naturally protuberant.
    â€œDo you suppose,” he asked, “that any men really enjoy sex?”
    Charlie got interested. “I’ll tell you this, Georgie. In my years I’ve learned one thing: that you never know what’s in the other fellow’s mind or soul when it comes to that subject. I don’t mean just that there are liars around: I mean that I think often enough a man doesn’t really know what he feels. You know what you are told to feel. An anal orgasm is supposed to be a fantastic experience. You can read that in almost any issue of any men’s magazine. And wasn’t that the point of that sex manual we published last year?”
    â€œI didn’t read it.”
    â€œThat was one of Myra’s projects,” said Charlie, who was secretary to Myra Turlish, another of the senior editors. “Something like thirty-five thousand letters came in, most of them from men, and most of them confessing they had never had an anal orgasm.”
    â€œFrankly, it doesn’t surprise me,” Cornell said. “I have never understood how it could appeal to anybody. And what do you suppose a woman gets out of it, when it comes to that?”
    â€œPower,” Charlie said. “Pure and simple.”
    â€œI can understand necking and petting,” said Cornell.
    Charlie persisted. “What more brutal and obvious assertion of power could you find? There you are, on your stomach, helpless, and they’re riding you.”
    â€œMaybe if the facts were out, something could be done.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWell, therapy,” Cornell said. “There must be lots of poor boys who don’t know where to turn for help. That’s sad.” He went ahead and opened his belt before his swollen stomach burst it. He now had room for more beer or more anxiety, whichever was bloating him worse.
    â€œThe way you’ve been helped,” Charlie said. He thrust his mug into the air between them. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you said: you might be worse. But that could be said of anything, right? I developed some back trouble a year ago, and the doctor strapped me in a support which didn’t give me any relief but added more discomfort. ‘Without it you’d be worse,’ she said. After a while I threw the damn thing away, and the trouble eventually stopped by itself. Cost me a week’s pay for nothing.”
    Cornell said solemnly: “I didn’t have a choice when I first began my therapy, years ago. Either that or killing myself. And now it’s gone on so long that I wouldn’t know what to do without it. And Dr. Prine’s better than the others I went to.” He paused. “I think. She’s tougher, but then that’s supposed to be good, I think. She insists the whole thing about not being