Vi looked around.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“That’s what all the girls ask me.”

“It’s really a rat hole.” “It keeps me modest.”

“Let’s go to my place.” “O.k.”

We got into my car and she told me where she lived. We stopped for a couple of big steaks, vegetables, stuff for a salad, potatoes, bread, more to drink.

In the hallway of her apartment house there was a sign: NO LOUD NOISE OR DISTURBANCE OF ANY KIND ALLOWED. TV SETS MUST BE OFF AT 10 P. M. WE HAVE WORKING PEOPLE HERE.

It was a large sign done up in red paint.

“I like that part about the t.v. sets,” I told her.

We took the elevator up. She did have a nice place. I carried the bags into the kitchen, found two glasses, poured two drinks.

“You get the stuff out. I’ll be right back.”

I pulled the stuff out, laid it on the sink. Had another drink.

Vi came back. She was all dressed. Ear rings, high heels, short skirt. She looked all right. Stocky. But good ass and thighs, breasts. A hard tough ride.

“Hello there,” I said, “I’m a friend of Vi’s. She said she’d be right back. Care for a drink?”

She laughed, then I grabbed that big body and gave her a kiss. Her lips were cold as diamonds but tasted good.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “Let me cook!”

“I’m hungry too. I’ll eat you!”

She laughed. I gave her a short kiss, grabbing her ass. Then I walked into the front room with my drink, sat down, stretched my legs, sighed. i could stay here, I thought, make money at the track while she nurses me over the bad moments, rubs oils on my body, cooks for me, talks to me, goes to bed with me. Of course, there would always be arguments. That is the nature of Woman. They like the mutual exchange of dirty laundry, a bit of scream– ing, a bit of dramatics. Then an exchange of vows. I wasn’t very good on the exchange of vows.

I was getting high. In my mind I’d already moved in.

Vi had everything going. She came out with her drink, sat on my lap, kissed me, putting her tongue into my mouth. My cock leaped up against her firm bottom. I grabbed a handful. Squeezed.

“I want to show you something,” she said.

“I know you do but let’s wait until about an hour after dinner.” “Oh, I don’t mean that!”

I reached for her and gave her the tongue.

Vi got off my lap.

“No, I want to show you a photo of my daughter. She’s in Detroit with my mother. But she’s coming out here in the Fall to go to school.”

“How old is she?” "6.”

“And the father?”

“I divorced Roy. The son of a bitch was no good. All he did was drink and play the horses.”

“Oh?”

She came back with the photo, put it in my hand. I tried to make it out. There was a dark background.

“Listen, Vi, she’s really black! God damn, don’t you have sense enough to take this with a light background?”

“It’s from her father. The black dominates.”

“Yeh. I can see that.”

“My mother took the photo.”

“I’m sure you have a nice daughter.” “Yes, she is nice, really.”

Vi put the photo back and went into the kitchen.

The eternal photo! Women with their photos. It was the same over and over and over again. Vi stood in the kitchen doorway.

“Don’t drink too much now! You know what we have to do!”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have something for you. Meanwhile, bring me a drink! I’ve had a hard day. Half scotch, half water.”

“Get your own drink, bigshot.”

I turned my chair around, flicked on the t.v.

“You want another good day at the track, woman, you better bring Mr. Bigshot a drink. And I mean now!”

Vi had finally bet my horse in the last race. It was a 5/1 shot who hadn’t shown a decent race in 2 years. I bet it merely be– cause it was 5/1 when it should have been 20. The horse had won by 6 lengths, eased up. They had that baby fixed from ass-hole to nostril.

I looked up and here was a hand with a drink reaching over my shoulder.

“Thanks, baby.”

“Yes, master,” she laughed.