I took Tanya to Santa Anita. The current sensation was a 16 year old jockey still riding with his 5 pound bug advantage. He was from the east and was riding at Santa Anita for the first time. The track was offering a prize of $10,000 to the person who could pick the winner of the feature race, but his or her entry had to be plucked out of all the other entries. One person was drawn for each horse and it went from there.

We drove in about the 4th race and the suckers had the place filled to capacity. All the seats were gone and there was no parking left. Track personnel directed us into a nearby shopping center. They had busses to shuttle us in. They would let us walk back after the last race.

“This is madness. I feel like going back,” I told Tanya.

She took a pull from her pint. “Fuck it,” she said, “we’re here.”

After we got inside I knew a special place to sit, comfortable and isolated, and I took her there. The only thing wrong was that the children had discovered it too. They ran about kicking up dust and screaming, but it was better than standing.

“We’re leaving after the 8th race," I told Tanya. “The last of these people won’t get out of here until midnight.” “I’ll bet a racetrack would be a good place to pick up men.”

“The hookers work the clubhouse.”

“Did a hooker ever pick you up out here?”

“Once, but it didn’t count.”

“Why?”

“I already knew her.”

“Aren’t you afraid of catching something?”

“Of course, that’s why most men will only take head.” “You like head?”

“Why, sure.”

“When do we bet?”

“Right now.”

Tanya followed me to the betting windows. I went to the $5 window. She stood beside me.

“How do you know who to bet?”

“Nobody knows. Basically, it’s a simple system.”

“Like what?”

“Well, generally the best horse goes off at the shortest odds, and as the horses get progressively worse the odds mount. But, the so-called 'best’ horse only wins one third of the time at odds of less than 3 to one.”

“Can you bet every horse in the race?”

“Yes, if you want to get poor fast.”

“Do many people win?”

“I’d say that about one person out of 20 or 25 wins." “Why do they come?”

“I’m no shrink, but I’m here, and I imagine a few shrinks are here too.”

I bet the 6 horse 5 win and we went out to watch the race. I always preferred a horse with early lick, especially if he had quit in his last race. The players called them “quitters” but you always got a better price for the same kind of ability that you got with a “closer.” I got 4 to one on my “quitter”; he won by 2 and Vi lengths and paid $10.20 for $2. I was $25.50 ahead.

“Let’s get a drink,” I said to Tanya. “The bartender makes the best Bloody Marys in Southern California.” We went to the bar. They asked for Tanya’s I.D. We got our drinks.

“Who do you like in the next race?” Tanya asked.

“Zag-Zig.”

“Do you think he’ll win?” “Do you have two breasts?” “Have you noticed?” “Yes.”

“Where’s the ladies’ room?” “Turn right twice.”

As soon as Tanya left I ordered another BM. A black guy walked up to me. He was around 50. “Hank, man, how are you doing?” ' “I’m holding on.”

“Man, we really miss you down at the P.O. You were one of the funniest guys we ever had. I mean, we miss you down there.”

“Thanks, tell the boys I said hello.” “What are you doing now, Hank?” “Oh, I pound a typewriter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I pound a typewriter. . . .”

I held both hands up and tapped down at the air. “You mean you’re a clerk-typist?”

“No, I write.”

“Write what?”

“Poems, short stories, novels. They pay me for that.” He looked at me. Then he turned and walked off.

Tanya came back. “Some son-of-a-bitch tried to pick me up!” “Oh? I’m sorry. I should have gone with you.” “He was very brash! I really hate those types! They’re slime!” “If they only had some originality it might help. They just don’t have any imagination. It might be why they are alone.” “I’m going to bet Zag-Zig.” “I’ll buy you a ticket. . . .”

Zag-Zig just didn’t stoke up. He came up to the gate weakly, the jock stroking away the whitewach with his whip. Zag-Zig broke poorly and then loped. He beat one horse. We went back to the bar. One hell of a race for a 6 to 5 shot.

We had two Marys.

“You like head?” Tanya asked me.

“It depends. Some do it well, most don’t.”

“Do you ever meet any friends out here?”

“I just did, the race before this.”

“A woman?”

“No, a guy, a postal clerk. I really don’t have any friends.” “You’ve got me.”

“Ninety pounds of roaring sex.”

“Is that all you see in me?”

“Of course not. You have those large, large eyes.”

“You’re not very nice.”

“Let’s catch the next race.”

We caught the next race. She bet hers, I bet mine. We both lost. “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

“O.K.,” said Tanya.

Back at my place we sat on the couch drinking. She really wasn’t a bad girl. She had such a sad look about her. She wore dresses and high heels and her ankles were good. I wasn’t quite sure what she expected of me. I had no desire to make her feel bad. I kissed her. She had a long thin tongue and it darted in and out of my mouth. I thought of a silverfish. There was so much sadness in everything, even when things worked.

Then Tanya unzipped me and had my cock in her mouth. She pulled it out and looked at me. She was on her knees between my legs. She stared into my eyes and ran her tongue around the head of my cock. Behind her the last of the sun was leaking through my dirty Venetian blinds. Then she went to work. She had absolutely no technique; she knew nothing about how it should be done. It was straight and simple bob and suck. As straight grotesque it was fine but it was hard to get it off on straight grotesque. I had been drinking and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So I went into fantasyland: we were both down at the beach, and we were surrounded by 45 or 50 people, male and female, most of them in bathing trunks. They were gathered around us in a small circle. The sun was up above, the sea rolled in and out, and you could hear it. Now and then two or three seagulls circled low over our heads.

Tanya sucked and bobbed as they watched and I heard their comments: “Christ, look at her go and get it!”

“Cheap demented slut!”

“Sucking off a guy 40 years older than she is!”

“Pull her away! She’s crazy!”

“No, wait! She’s really getting at it!”

“And LOOK at that thing!”

“HORRIBLE!”

“Hey! I’ll get her in the ass while she’s doing it!”

“She’s CRAZY! SUCKING OFF THAT OLD FUCK!!”

“Let’s burn her back with matches!”

“LOOK AT HER GO!”

“SHE’S TOTALLY CRAZY!”

I reached down and grabbed Tanya’s head and forced my cock into the center of her skull.

When she came out of the bathroom I had two drinks ready. Tanya took a sip and looked at me. “You liked it, didn’t you? I could tell.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You like symphony music?”

“Folk-rock,” she said.

I went over to the radio, moved it to 160, turned it on, turned it up. We were there.