The Rip-Off by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

and embarrassed to a degree I had never known before. He walked out of the library between the two of us, a hand on each of our shoulders. Then, when we were at the door and had said our good-night, he laughingly roared that he expected me to collect heavy loot from Manny.
    "Make her mind, Britt. 'S' only kind of wife to have. Tell her you won't marry her until she comes through with your bonus!"
    Marry her?
    Marry her!
    Well, what did I expect?
    I tottered out of the house, with Manny clinging possessively to my arm. And there was a coldish lump in my throat, a numbing chill in my spine.
    We got in the car, and I drove away. Manny looked at me speculatively and asked why I was so quiet. And I said I wasn't being quiet, and then I said, What was wrong with being quiet? Did I have to talk every damned minute to keep her happy?
    Ordinarily, popping-off to her like that would have gotten me a chewing out or maybe a sharp slap. But tonight she said soothingly that of course I could be silent whenever I chose, because whatever I chose was also her choice.
    "After all we're a team, darling. Not two people, but a couple. Maybe we have out little spats, but there can't be any serious division between us."
    I groaned. I said, "Oh, my God, Manny! Oh, Mary and Jesus, and his brother, James!"
    "What's the matter, Britt? Isn't that the way you feel?"
    What I felt was that I was about to do something wholly irrelevant and unconstructive. Like soiling my clothes. For I was being edged closer and closer to the impossible. I mumbled something indistinguishable-something noncommittally agreeable. Because I knew now that I had to keep talking. Only in talk, light talk, lay safety.
    Luckily, Manny indirectly threw me a cue by pushing the stole back from her shoulders, and stretching her legs out in front of her. An action which tantalizingly exhibited her gold lamй evening gown; very short, very low cut, very tight-seeming on her small, ultra-full body.
    "It looks like it was painted on you," I said. "How in the world did you get into it?"
    "Maybe you'll find out"-giving me a look. "After all, you have to take it off of me."
    "We shall see," I said, desperate for words. For any kind of light talk. "We shall certainly see about this."
    "Well, hurry up, for gosh sake! I've got to pee."
    "Oh, my God," I said. "Why didn't you go before we left the house?"
    "Because I needed help with my dress, darn it!"
    I got her to the place. The place that had become our place.
    I got her up to the room and out of her clothes, and onto the sink.
    With no time to spare, either.
    She cut loose, and continued to let go at length. Sighing happily with the simple pleasure of relieving herself. She was such an earthy little thing, and I suppose few things are as good as a good leak when one has held it to the bursting point.
    When she had finished, she reached a towel from the rack, and handed it to me. "Wipe, please."
    "Wipe what?" I said.
    "You know what-and where it is, too!"
    "I will. If you'll promise to give me a tip…" Talking, talking. Even after we were in bed, and she was pressed tightly against me in epigrammatic surgings.
    ***
    "… what kind of tip are you giving me?"
    "Guess."
    "Something very soft and very firm?"
    "Mmm."
    "Possessing an elastic quality?"
    "Mmm."
    "Almost painfully but wonderfully tight?"
    "Mmm."
    "Self-lubricating?"
    "Mmm."
    "Mmm. Now, what in the world could it be?"

9
    I was physically ill by the time I got home that night. Sick with fear that the subject of marriage would be raised again, that it would be tossed to me like a ball and that I would not be allowed to bat it aside or let it drop.
    Repeatedly staggered out of my bed and went to the bathroom. Over and over, I went down on my knees and vomited into the bowl. Gagging up the bile of fear, as I shivered and sweated with its burning chill. I tried to blame it on an overactive imagination, but I couldn't lie to myself. I'd lied once too often when I lied to Manny- about the