That night I managed to get 2 or 3 drinks into Cecelia. She forgot herself and crossed her legs high and I saw some good heavy flank. Durable. A cow of a woman, cow’s breasts, cow’s eyes. She could handle plenty. Keesing had had a good eye.

She was against the killing of animals, she didn’t eat meat. I guess she had enough meat. Everything was beautiful, she told me, we had all this beauty in the world and all we had to do was reach out and touch it, it was all there and all ours for the taking.

“You’re right, Cecelia,” I said. “Have another drink.”

“It makes me giddy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of giddy?”

Cecelia crossed her legs again and her thighs flashed. They flashed way up high.

Bill, you can’t use it now. You were a good poet, Bill, but what the hell, you left more behind than your writing. And your writing never had thighs and flanks like this.
Cecelia had another drink, then stopped. I kept going.

Where did all the women come from? The supply was endless. Each one of them was individual, different. Their pussies were different, their kisses were different, their breasts were different, but no man could drink them all, there were too many of them, crossing their legs, driving men mad. What a feast!

“I want to go to the beach. Will you take me to the beach, Hank?” Cecelia asked. “Tonight?”

“No, not tonight. But sometime before I leave.”

“All right.”

Cecelia talked about how the American Indian had been abused. Then she told me that she wrote, but she never submitted it, she just kept a notebook. Bill had encouraged and helped her with some of her things. She’d helped Bill get through the university. Of course, the G.I. Bill had helped, too. And there had always been codeine, he had always been hooked on codeine. She’d threatened to leave him again and again, but it didn’t help. Now—

“Drink this, Cecelia,” I said, “it will help you forget.” I poured her a tall one.

“Oh, I couldn’t drink all that!”

“Cross your legs higher. Let me see more of your legs.”

“Bill never talked to me like that.”

I continued to drink. Cecelia continued to talk. After a while I didn’t listen. Midnight came and left.

“Listen, Cecelia, let’s go to bed. I’m bombed.”

I walked into the bedroom and undressed, got under the covers. I heard her walk by and go into the bathroom. I switched the bedroom light off. She came out soon and I felt her getting into the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Cecelia,” I said.

I pulled her to me. She was naked. Jesus, I thought. We kissed.

She kissed very well. It was a long, hot one. We finished. “Cecelia?” “Yes?”

“I’ll fuck you some other time.” I rolled over and went to sleep.