“Kiss this,” said Marie.
They were pulled over about two blocks from where she lived. Bill was parked behind her, the engine of his car running, the heater blasting. He had walked up to say good night and make sure she could get on the rest of the way. Marie opened her car door and Bill could see she’d pulled down her jeans and her panties.
“Go on home,” said Bill.
“Not until you kiss my coochie.”
“It’s freezing out here.”
“Get in.”
“Huh unh.”
“I ain’t moving till you get on your knees and kiss my coochie.”
“Damn it, Marie.”
“Henry Lee never does. My husband don’t too. Come on. Give me a thrill.”
“Shit, girl.”
Bill knew he was trapped. They were both messed up, her much more than him, and he knew she wasn’t changing her mind. Tired, wanting to go home, he reluctantly bent in toward her. As high as he was he couldn’t keep his balance well so he ended up leaning in against the seat. Marie started to laugh. She did her best to swing her legs apart and toward him. That was hard because her jeans kept her from spreading them. She did manage to lift one leg slightly, or, actually, to kind of put her foot up on part of the seat.
“Kiss it good,” she said.
Leaning in, Bill bent as far as he could. He found his head in her lap.
“That good enough?” he asked after he’d kissed her there.
“What you talking about? You hardly did anything.”
“Come on, Marie. It’s cold out here. I’m cold.”
“I told you get in.”
“And I told you no. I’m going home.”
“I’m going home too, but not until you kiss me good.”
Marie’s car was bigger than Bill’s. Hers was a full-size American car made in the late sixties. The front seat was a full front seat, no bucket seats, no gear shift in between. Not really wanting to, but not really not wanting to, Bill walked around to the passenger side and got into the car.
“Good,” Marie said.
With Bill sitting next to her she could slide her legs out from under the steering wheel and toward him. She asked if he had a joint and he said yes but that he thought they’d had enough. She told him it was never enough, and so he lit a joint and they smoked some more. When they were done, Marie pulled her pants all the way down to her ankles and repeated her request for what she wanted Bill to do.
When Bill was done, when Marie had shuddered and shook, she reciprocated. It didn’t take long for her to complete what she was doing since Bill had gotten pretty roused from what he had done.
“Why you doing this?” Bill asked.
“I want to,” said Marie. “I want to go home and kiss him. That makes me feel good.”
“That’s spite,” said Bill.
“You’re goddamn right it is,” said Marie. She smiled at Bill.
“Okay. Can I go home now?” he asked.
“Yup. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Marie.” Bill opened the door and got out, went back to his own car which had been running all the while. Smaller and more sporty, with the heater running his car was toasty warm. He watched a moment as Marie sat there, fixing herself, he imagined. He sat there until he saw her drive off. Then, when she was gone, he drove home.
After he parked the car, he climbed the steps up into his apartment only to find Tim there sleeping next to his fiancé. As Bill saw it, this was neither a good or bad thing. He could imagine that they had been hanging out and fallen asleep. Maybe they’d gotten high. Probably, Tim, as he was wont to do, had cried to her.
