2.59 The Loneliest Night of the Week

Slim Novel 2 - http://adventuresofkimi.blogspot.com - See Homepage


59. The Loneliest Night Party

They approach the house where the party is at, on a quiet street, chilly under the starry April sky. Lights shine from every window of the 2-story gray-brick private home.

   Kimura follows Ali past a swinging gate and they walk a garden path tiptoeing around daffodils (and through the tulips) then walk up 5 steps to a porch; Ali presses the doorbell and the door opens inward and it is Brenda whom they had met at the store earlier. Ali’s heart skips and she thinks: Not so pretty but an interesting face that suggests force of character. 

   Brenda exclaims, “Thanx a mill for comin’!” She grabs their hands, and leads both into a living room filled with teenagers – girls in party dresses and guys in formal suits with fancy knot ties over white shirts.

   The living room gives a feeling of comfort. At its far end, and set before French windows that look out on a patio, is a brown linen-covered table and food tastily arranged. As Brenda presents her guests, the room quietens and heads turn. Ali is least out of place; at age 20 she is not far removed from the kids but with her strange attractiveness she seems of another tribe. Kimura, oriental from overseas, impresses with his ability to be at ease speaking good English to their Bronx slang.

   Brenda leads them to the table and introduces Bronx potluck – food dishes made at home and brought by each guest. Starting from left is a large plate of juicy, braised spare ribs with black-eyed peas in piquant yellow Spanish rice; then a big bowl of sweet & sour chicken-chunk Chinese moogoo gaipan; after that, thin oval cuts of light brown Jewish gefilte-fish-loaf eaten on matzo (Jewish biscuit squares) and smeared with tongue-stinging, red horseradish; next, a pot of fragrant Italian fettucini pasta in garlicky red sauce; and beside it, small, fat, juicy German hot dogs on toothpicks to be eaten covered by really-sour, shredded sauerkraut and dips of taste-bud-terrifying English mustard; and, finally, hors d'oeuvres, small biscuits with cheese or beef or bits of spicy fish; and at their far right, a large, deep saucer for ladling out finger-lickin’, fragrant brown-sauce Irish stew from Danny’s sister Sheila.

   Kimura asks what goes into the the so-called Irish Mulligan stew.

   “Anythin’ Mom has on hand,” Danny replies and his sister behind him adds, “Like leftovers of beef, string beans, cooked carrots and peas, shredded broccoli. Mom sez a Irish colleen - y'know, a girl like me - gotta know how to make good Mulligan if she wantsa marry a Mulligan. But I ain’t marryin’ no Irish guy. I wanna get me a good Jewish boy wit’ lots of gelt.”

   Danny gives her his “Get lost” look.

   Brenda takes Kimura to a sofa where 2 girls make a place for him. One, a Chinese round-face whom he thinks of as a Bronx version of Hollywood's Chinese-American actress, Anna May Wong, introduces herself as Bette Li; the other, who follows with a barely audible "Sylvia" and shakes his hand, is a petite girl with black hair. Sitting on sofa arm is a blond young man, obviously the boyfriend, who introduces himself as Burt and, instantly, Kimura feels a quiet humbleness before this example of young love. He recites from memory Who is Sylvia? What is she that all our swains commend her? and is surprised by Burt's completing it as his Sylvia blushes. Most Bronx 16-year-olds in 1939 knew the poem from high school study of Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

   Kimura – balancing his food-loaded plate on knee – wields fork to eat the ethnic Bronx fare while the teenagers watch. Meanwhile, Ali has taken Sheila to a circle of chairs where other girls are gathered. Sheila has bobbed blonde hair, blue eyes, small straight nose, thin lips and sharp tongue; also she is one who does not follow the cliché “Do not speak ill of your own kind.” The other girls are used to ‘Sheel’ so they do not take her seriously as she says: “Da god-damn Oirish” – lowest class pig-pen, lower class shanty, low class steam-heat, and middle class lace curtain; duh faddahs beatin’ up on dair wives and kids; and she leans over to whisper into Ali’s ear about what faddahs sometimes do to dauttas.

   Now is Eedie’s turn, her full name Editha Santiago and she is a cute little doll-face who is nicknamed Arf an’ Arf  because she is the daughter of a black Cuban and his shanty Irish wife. Eedie pulls her chair close and complains how the boys manhandle her, and her manhandle has a special significance, obvious from Edie’s see-through sheer white silk blouse that shows the brassiere cups. But the white-silk over the cups has faint greasy prints from boys' hands having played Grab tit.
   Eedie winks at Ali. “Dese bozos donno, while dey are feelin’ me up, dat it’s all false! See!” And with a quick motion she reaches in and pulls rolled  stocking out of a brassiere cup.

   Lorna is tall, ethereal and obviously Jewish, with long face and jet hair to mid back. She sits down, facing Ali and asks in low voice: “What is it like – with an oriental?” And Ali can almost hear the unsaid “Ugh!”

   Sheila, a troublemaker, whispers in Ali’s ear and Ali smiles, replying: “I don’ know. Guess it an’t so different from other types. By the way, what’s it like with a kike?” Lorna’s cheeks redden as if slapped; then follows silence during which Lorna, an intelligent girl, realizes how bad her question was because she had clumsily tried to hide her racism behind the nice word. Most girls would have responded with anger but Lorna’s beginning outrage turns to softening understanding. She gets up and gives Ali a hug followed by a kiss on lips. The other girls clap in appreciation.

   “Hey what’s goin’ on?” Shouts Danny whose attention has been distracted by Ali and Lorna kissing. “What is it? A les be frenly party?”

   Brenda stands mid room to announce dancing. Chairs, tables and sofas are pushed to the walls. Sheila and black-haired Irish Mary hand out party hats – bright shiny colored cardboard with sequins and tassels and varied shapes – from high-pointed witch-toppers to popular band leader Ted Lewis's Is Everybody Happy? caricatures. Danny loads record discs onto the big Victrola phonograph. Brenda goes to Ali. “Hey!  My mom is a fashion designer and have I gotta gown for you! Folla me!”

Upstairs in bedroom, Brenda holds up a 2-piece gown. “Soon’s I saw you, Ali, I sez to myself: ‘What a body she has for Mom’s black beauty! Dats whut Mom calls it. Be its first model, if you don’t mind.”

   “Tres chichi,” Ali comments. “Oh, ‘scuse me Bren, I didn’ mean to show off m'French.”

   Brenda laughs: “I already got 2 years in high school, and Mair and Pair take me to Paree, summers. Love your authentic ‘shee shee’ way a sayin chichi. Hey Ali! What’s your last name?”

   “Le Beau,” says Ali, and Brenda exclaims “Gee!” and hugs Ali hard. “To take a word from my Jewish boyfriend, we are Lanzmen.  Mountain mama! Jiminy crickets! My name, Borden, comes from Bordeaux. Comment allez-vous?.” She hugs Ali again with that special feeling between two girls who are mutually attracted.

   Standing before full length body mirror, Ali pulls off her sweater. The object of delight is a black 2-piece party gown which on its hanger is seen to be bodice with semi-attached see-through skirt over black velvet knee-length pants.
   Ali pulls on the pants. “Now for the piece de resistance,” she says, before pulling the bodice top over her head. Its front has a design of 15 thin upward arrows of silvery studs, each spaced an inch apart and the see-through over-skirt is open V-shape in front, allowing a daring view of bare midriff to navel.  Brenda primps and arranges Ali and both contemplate the effect in mirror.

   “Your mom’s a genius, Bren! These silvery arrows in front!  Brilliant! But, maybe, you bein’ virgin, I don’t wanna say what the arrow-head shapes suggest.”

   “Don’t worry, Ali, I took biology. In class we all got a chance to see sperm in books. And Mom believes in tellin’ a daughter all.”

They go downstairs and no one notices the sexy gowned Ali as lights dim to enhance romance in dance. They stand in far corner and Brenda suggests Ali dance with Kimura. Ali and Kimura do 2 foxtrots together but then Tony a slick black-haired guy asks Kimura if he can have Ali for one dance. It is Irving Berlin’s Won’t You Change Partners and Dance with Me, which Ali loves, recalling Fred Astaire singing it to Ginger in the movie, Carefree. Tony is a skilled social party dancer. He glides Ali out onto the patio, lets go of her hand and enfolds her in his arms. Silent now he blows in her right ear, dances her into a corner out of sight, and she feels his hands drop and they are no longer dancing but she is backed into an alcove against a dark wall. Covered by his body and dragged against him, she feels his hands working to pull down her pants under the skirt of the gown.

    “Keep that up and I’ll scream, I swear I will!” He stops but does not let go of her and she feels his sexual stiffness, which pokes out of his opened pants, banging into her. Ali has been in this position before and from her lessons in sex play she knows how to exhaust male lust with no harm to herself. A man may be hot but he’s not when he’s shot, explains her method.

    “Listen, Tony, I give what you need but not all you want. Leave it in my hand.” She reaches down and begins to jerk him off.

    She says, "You may kiss but don’t mess with the gown.” She pulls out a handkerchief carried for such a use and allows him one open-mouthed tongue exchange and continues it until his spasms pass and his last semen is jetted into the handkerchief.

It is easy to grab an erection and jerk it and once a man is suddenly emptied he becomes a lamb, as every girl ought to know. At the end of the kiss Ali feels wetness on her cheek and realizes it is from Tony. Never has he encountered such a response; it shatters his smooth exterior. “T’anks lovely lady, I never met a lovelier! If ya evah need anyt’in’ jes call Tony.” They go back inside and he takes her to Kimura. “Here’s yo lady back. I envy you, man!”

Announcing the end of dancing and start of what she calls “shmoozin’ around,” Brenda takes Ali upstairs to change clothes. They spend fifteen minutes together talking. A knock interrupts. It is Sheila. “Bren! Sweetie Eedie’s at her tricks again. You better stop it or she’ll get pregnant.”
   Brenda quickly explains to Ali that Eedie is nymphomanic and sometimes goes crazy after drinks. The girls try to protect her especially because they realize it has to do with her half-and-half status. There is a strong black-white color line in the adult society that extends to membership in peer groups and little Eedie has made it across that line by using her fair-skin Irish mom’s DNA and her non-negro features but most of all by offering her body to the boys to make herself desired at parties.

   Ali follows Brenda and Sheila out the door and down the hall to the master bedroom and immediately it is clear - from fat, semi-retarded gang member, Dewey, standing guard - that action with Eedie is going on. As Brenda moves to get past, they hear from their side of the door, Eedie’s giggles mixed with muffled boys’ voices. Dewey, a bullet-head boy, gives Brenda an idiot smile and says: “Look, Bren. Dis here’s a big bang not fer nice girls so you and yer hens go downstairs an’ attend to yer knittin’. Nuboddy’s gonna git hurt – jes a li’lle fun.”

   Brenda knee kicks him, doubling him up, as she, Ali and Sheila run past him into the room. From the open doorway Ali sees Eedie on her knees in doggie position on the floor beside the bed: one guy is holding Eedie’s head so as to keep his erect penis in her mouth, shoving it in and out while at the same time she moves her belly up and down on another guy who is lying underneath her with pants down and erection buried between Eedie's thighs. And a third guy is just mounting Eedie from behind with his erection pressing into her back hole.

   Brenda wastes no time. “Damn you guys, stop it! Be real men! Eedie is a woman and we three here are women and we’re gonna protect her whether she likes it or not! Get outa here right now or I call da cops.” As she talks, Brenda, with Sheila and Ali’s help, pulls the astonished guys off of Eedie, and gathering up their clothing they all run out without another word.

   The 3 girls put Eedie, naked except for brassiere, in bed. Brenda sits holding the shaken little girl in her arms and smoothing down her hair: “It’s OK, kid. You don’t have do dat stuff to be one of us. We love you, kid. I love you,” and she kisses Eedie on the lips. “Please, please, don’t ever do anyt’in’ like dat again, Honey.”

   They clean the girl off, neat up the room and Brenda asks Sheila to stay with Eedie.
   Outside the door in hall Ali touches Brenda’s shoulder and says: “Hon, you are beautiful and I do not mean physically. I love who you are.” She hugs her and Brenda says, “I hear you Ali. I jus’ did what I think my Mom woulda done. We women gotta help one another. Pardon me now, I wanna get myself together. See ya downstairs in ten minutes.”

12 midnight: Brenda announces the ending of the party and says to Ali: "My boyfriend Freddy, Burt and Sylvia, Danny and Bette, and Lorna and Moishe will stay and play. And, Ali, I’d really like you and Mr. Kimura to stay too.” 

   Ali takes Kimura aside. Kimura is in love with her in his strange subtle way. From the start he has sensed their differences. Deeply analytic, he knows Ali is young, vital and wanting new experience, and he desires her to be part of his life; so, at this moment, he decides, he will show no sexual jealousy because it could be the weak link: she must have freedom; but he expects she will stay connected because of a deep mutual intellectual bond. And understanding the appeal of youth to youth, he says: “Ali-san, I am tired from this fascinating day but I wish you to stay and to get the experience.  In the morning come home to me.” His use of ‘home’ has a meaning for Ali and she says: “Kim, quick, your hankie! I gotta blow.” She grabs it and turns away. Then she turns back, stands on tiptoes and kisses his chin saying “Not the lips, Hon.  I just blew my nose. And thanks, Kim, see you t’home.”

After the others leave, Brenda sits her friends in kitchen at a 5-foot diameter, glossy white wood table. She has arranged matching white wood chairs, hers at 12 o’clock and Freddy's facing across the table at 6; Sylvia at 3, facing Burt at 9; Danny & Bette at 1:30 and 7:30; and Moishe & Lorna at 4:30 and 10:30. Ali stands behind Brenda's chair. Brenda has not mentioned the name of the game; however, as Freddy is placing an empty big soda bottle sideways on mid table Ali recalls it from her teenage days: Spin the bottle!
   Each girl is sitting facing her desired guy. But Ali is the odd girl out: when the spinning bottle comes to stop midway between 2 boys, Ali will be the joker-is-wild for the 3-minute next room session that follows, with each boy, one after the other.

Thirty minutes and each couple has had one 3-minute petting in the dark and Ali has gone in with Danny and with Burt. Now Brenda announces change. The first phase was no big deal except Ali’s presence lends new flavor to old game. Now, with each successive spin the bottle the girls will rotate clockwise in seating. So on the first spin Brenda goes from 12 to 3 o’clock and switches Freddy for Burt as partner and each girl changes seat accordingly, making for a whole new set of partners. It is an experiment in sharing, a healthy conditioning of the boys and girls against sexual jealousy and also a way of satisfying the curiosity every lover has about what an alternate lover might be like as each girl gets to sample the kisses of another girl’s guy and vice versa.

Another 30 minutes: Brenda stands: “OK you guys, go upstairs and tell dirty jokes, and leave us here to our hen party. And no peekin’, see! Cuz if we catch you we’ll pull a Lysistrata!  An’ if ya donno what dat means, brush up on your Aristophanes.”

   Nothing here is a surprise to these kids who have already entered the conspiracy of sexual swapping.

The boys are upstairs. Brenda directs the new seating, placing Ali at 6 o’clock and Sylvia opposite Lorna while Bette Li who would have been the odd girl out goes to wash dishes. With only 2 couples the petting is changed from 3 to 5 minutes and instead of a couple going from the table to the dark room together, the one pointed by the bottle goes out and her partner follows.

   Brenda spins and it indicates her and Ali: she gets up and goes out the kitchen door. Ali follows.

   The living room is blacker than a moonless, starless night and after a few steps Ali stops and Brenda nearby whispers “Ali.” Guided by the voice and then Brenda’s fragrance Ali puts her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders and leans close to Brenda’s, mouth. Lips meet, part, and tongues actively probe. Then hands start love touches, first this place and that, then … .  Ali feels Brenda’s heart pounding and hers is too as she presses breasts against breasts, her nipples against Brenda’s.

   “Bren, I like you more than just a friend.”

   “I love you Ali. I hope you unnerstan’ I ain’t lez but I can’t help feelin’ physical. Izzit wrong?”

   “Wrong? Not when we feel like this.”

    They kiss again at first touching lightly now passionately straining against each other.

   “Ali, somepin’s happenin’ inside me wit’ you now I never had wit’ a boy! Oh, Ali! Oh mi gawd! Hold me till it's over! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

   Ali keeps Brenda against her, smoothing the girl's hair with one hand and the other hand under her dress working actively between her thighs.  
   “I know, Bren’, it’s happenin’ to me too: a strange rush, an inner glow."

   “Ali, never lemme go! I wanna normal life, wanna have a husband and kids. But never lemme go!” Brenda lowers face on Ali’s shoulder crying softly.

   After a while Ali disengages. “Get yourself together, baby, and be happy.  I will never let it go, this beautiful thing between us. We’re young, we’ve things to do, but we’ll have each other – as lovers, as helpmates, as fast friends sharing and working together. I felt you coming as I was. Now we know.”

Later, Ali adjusts her makeup upstairs while Brenda sleeps with her pals in main bedroom. On the way out of the house Ali drops an envelope on the parlor table addressed “To Bren”.  A plan is forming.   
   Outside, she muses: “A brilliant Bronx April!  I’ll remember. And smiles.”
   To read next, click 2.60 After Coffee, Rectal Sex Delights

•