Chapter 5

"Julie, honey, there are some things we're gonna have to talk about," said Ertha setting a cup of steaming hot Italian roast coffee at her friend's side. For the second day in a row, Julie had woken up hung over and depressed and, if she followed yesterday's pattern, she'd lay on the sofa all day and watch television. Any question would be answered in a brief monosyllable with no inflection. A picture of depression, if ever there was one.

"Huh?" Julie raised her head reluctantly off the pillow and ran her fingers through her unbrushed hair.

"I said there are some things we're gonna have to talk 'about." Ertha waited for Julie to sit up, then sat down on the sofa beside her friend, lifting the quilt and warming her own legs with it. "Drink some coffee. It'll straighten out your head," she pointed to the steaming mug, refusing to dote further on the girl whom she'd been waiting on hand and foot for the past two days. It was time Julie did something for herself, unless she wanted to remain an emotional invalid for the rest of her life.

"What is it?" Julie winced at the first acrid sip of coffee, its acid scorching her inside that had known nothing but wine and a few morsels of food in the past torturous days of sorely needed emotional cleansing.

"It's you, Julie. What's going to happen to you?"

Julie shrugged recklessly and took another sip of coffee... Again she ran her fingers through her unkempt hair, a blank expression on her face. Then her eyes narrowed, as though squeezing back the tears, and she concentrated on a loose thread on the sofa's arm, twisting it around her finger then, forming it a ball, she gritted her teeth and yanked it off. "I knew this was coming...

"What?"

"That you'd get tired of having me around," she muttered, barely audible.

Ertha tutted and stroked Julie's knee through the quilt. "Now that's not it at all, and you know it. God, how can you say that after we've been friends... roommates for awhile... as a matter of fact, since college? Man, you've got to get your head together, Julie. That's what I'm concerned about. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Move in, if you wish. But it's that crazy head of yours that concerns me..." She playfully rapped her knuckles on Julie's head.

Julie gave a faint chuckle, the first expression in two days and lifted her head to stare into her friend's eyes to see the honesty and concern harbored there. "You've been really good to me, Ertha. I don't know what I would have done...

"Hey, come on. Let's not play humble, okay?" She gave Julie's hand a squeeze, startled to feel it cold and clammy. "We've got to get you back on your feet, girl." The sofa gave a teasing squeek as she pumped Julie's hand up and down on the nubby fabric, hoping to bring some strength and life back into the frail figure of her long-time friend. "Tell you what... you get up, take a shower and get dressed. We'll go to a nice little Italian place I know of... ravioli's superb... and have lunch."

"Oh, that's sweet of you," Julie managed. "But you know Roy was paying for almost everything and I'm embarrassed to admit I have barely a cent to my name."

"On me... now think it over. I'm going to make myself presentable. God, it was five o'clock by the time Bill left last night," she yawned.

"She's right," Julie thought, standing under the shower. "Why should I be so put down because one creep turned out to be a first class bastard?" She would get dressed, put on some make up and strut the streets as she used to do before Roy destroyed her life.

While she was getting dressed in the bathroom, Ertha came in. "Is it all right?" she asked, rapping on the door. Julie opened it to find her friend staying there with her arms full of clothes. "I brought these in for you to try on. I've put on a couple of pounds..." she laughingly patted her bosom, "and most of them don't fit. Damned shame too. Paid a lot for those rags. Oh, and Julie," she sat down on the edge of the tub. "Don't take me wrong, I'm not prying or anything, but take a couple of pointers from me, okay?" She reached up to tickle her friend under the chin. "North Beach is a special kind of place, you know. I mean there are a lot of men around and it's best to be seen alone. But you have to dress right... that means no bra, lots of make up... they're into the casual look around here," she laughed. "They all think they're 'arty, ' but when it comes down to it, they want a real woman. Just strut your stuff and walk tall and I promise, you'll be out of your doldrums before you ever knew what hit you."

When Ertha left, Julie looked in the mirror once more for reassurance. With her make up on now, she saw a very womanly body facing her... her short curly blonde hair shone from the many brushings she'd given it, and her features were even and delicate. No, she was not a destroyed woman, she decided with a determined nod of her chin. She stepped into the dress Ertha had given her. It was a perky summer sundress with buttons down the front and a bolero jacket to match. The bodice made her look like the 'after' photographs in a bust development ad, even without a bra. The creamy mounds of her breasts protruded several inches in front of her, cradled precariously by the cut of the dress.

"Oh, well," Julie thought. "Why shouldn't I show my best features?" Another wave of anger shot through her, an anger that had been carefully rekindled by Ertha each time it showed the least bit of flagging. Any time she felt sad over her faithful loyalty to Roy, the memory of something Ertha said would set her bristling.

Julie buttoned up the bolero top, furious again that the man she had lived with for two years had mistreated her. Roy, the man she had helped finance cameras, taken messages for, and played secretary for while he ran around... Oh God, there she went again... But she couldn't help wondering if he had been cheating on her all that time, too. Probably so, she decided, the thought twisting like a sharp knife in her stomach.

She emerged from the bathroom to see Ertha coming out of her bedroom, hairbrush in hand. The sultry black-haired woman stopped in her tracks and gave a low wolf-call whistle. "Whow, you're a knock out, Julie! Damn!" She watched carefully as Julie walked ahead of her. Boy, if only that girl would set herself in the right direction, she could make a lot of money. Hell, she could share my business with me.

"Julie, there's one thing I forgot to mention. I know you're hard up for money, is that right!"

Julie turned in time to see Ertha stroke a hairbrush through her wealth of thick wavy black hair. She nodded. "Yes, I am, and I feel really bad about that, too. But I'll sell my car to help you pay the rent... really I will. I don't expect for you to let me stay here for nothing."

"Now don't you go talking like that, Julie," Ertha was talking to Julie's reflection iii the mirror. "I about to offer my help in finding you a gig... you know, something you can make some money at. Real money, not $3.50 an hour. We'll talk about it at lunch, okay?"

Excited, but a bit confused, Julie gathered up her handbag and opened the door, Ertha right behind her. Now for the first time in two days, Julie walked into the sunlight. It felt good.

"Massage? So that's how you've been making your money?" Julie poked at her salad, playing with a slice of tomato. After two days of fasting, her stomach couldn't hold much. She padded her abdomen, happy to feel the weight had shed in the right spots.

"Yes, massage... and don't stick up your nose at it because it's an age-old ritual. Man, people have been getting off on massage since...

"Since harems...

"Come on off it." Ertha shot a weary wince at her friend, then wiped her mouth free of ravioli sauce. It was not out of habit for her to talk with her mouth full of food, so Julie had to listen carefully. "... good for healing... relaxing and it brings people together... know what I mean?"

"That's what you do? You give people massages... for money?

Ertha nodded. She'd just taken another healthy bite.

"You mean like those girls in massage parlors?"

Ertha swallowed fast. "Not like that... don't make it sound like something cheap and dirty, Julie. Man," she shook her head and tutted, "Roy really kept you in the closet, didn't he?"

Julie shrugged and poked at a half-eaten square of ravioli. "I'd never thought of it that way before."

"Well, think it over. It's good money and if you're coy about it, you don't have to ball the guy. Just rub his back and slap some oil on. Half of 'em fall asleep," she giggled, then picked up the check. "Come on, let's go. You're not hungry and you're only eating to keep me from feeling bad... I've got an appointment.

"And walk home alone. Here, take this money and go have a glass of wine somewhere... just get out there and meet people," she encouraged, stuffing a five dollar bill in her friend's clenched hand. "Go out there and do it!" Ertha hissed in Julie's ear.

His name was Don Sanderson, and Julie had met him at the liquor store where she had gone to pick up a bottle of wine to take home to help while away the night before the movie of the evening came on. He'd said he was buying champagne and orange juice to celebrate his new apartment, and wouldn't she like to join him... ?

He wasn't too bad looking, in fact, he was very handsome with refined features and short, kinky hair like her own. He'd made a joke of it, and she'd like that.

Walking up the hills of North Beach's Telegraph Hill, Julie couldn't help but muse that meeting men was going to be easier than she'd dared hope. The wine she'd had for lunch was just the thing for her nerves, just as Ertha had said. Now this walk, being escorted by a good looking man like Don was lifting her spirits. She'd noticed that he'd stared at her low-cut dress with admiration, and although it made her blush, she was rather pleased.

On the way, Don had been discussing politics with her... of all things! Roy wouldn't even deign to discuss anything that heavy with her, and she found it wonderful to have a man listening to her thoughts and ideas. She had never realized she had so many!

He ushered her to his apartment building and pointed, needlessly, to the breathtaking view of the Golden Gate bridge where a steam ship was coming through the four o'clock fog now. Although his apartment was literally without furniture, she felt comfortable sitting on the over- sized pillows. The gentlemen that he was, he brought her a glass of wine, and she learned that he was a waiter. Don told her about the aging of wine, the difference between French wines and American wines... things Roy's beer tastes would find hard put to compete with. He'd traveled extensively, he told her, though that was as personal as he let the conversation become. Instead, he talked of luxury and day dreams. He flicked on the radio to a classical music station and appreciated Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was just the right words, toasting the conductor now and then with a glass of champagne.

The champagne bottle slowly lowered, and before she knew it, Don was holding her hand. Well, there wasn't really anything wrong in that, she told herself. She was having a better time than she'd had in ages. The ethereal music seemed to vibrate deep inside her making her feel warm and secure and beautiful. She only wished she hadn't drunk so much wine; perhaps, then, her mind would run more fluidly and match Don's witty refinement.

When the symphony had ended, Doll lay back on the floor, a broad smile on his face. Julie tucked her knees tightly under her, hugging them to her chest, watching Don's pet bird flutter its wing in its bamboo cage. It, like everything else in the sparsely furnished apartment, had a degree of quality to it, reassuring Julie that not all men were porno freak weirdoes like Roy.

The clutch at her hand tightened, and he tried to pull down beside him on the floor. It was a move graciously executed, but taken off-guard by the bewildered Julie. Certainly this man couldn't be making advances toward her after an hour's conversation. "I... I'd like a glass of water," she blurted out, suddenly pulling to her feet.

"Oh, let me get it for you..."

"No, that's okay. I'll get it." Hastily, she rose to her feet, pulled down her dress and strolled toward the kitchen, the cool floor warmed in square golden patches by the late afternoon sun felt good on her bare feet.

In the kitchen, she washed out her champagne glass and in turn filled it with water, the rushing of the faucet hiding any other sound in the apartment momentarily.

"Find what you wanted?" Don asked, standing close enough behind her for Julie to smell his aftershave lotion. It pleased her. Don wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his tall, thin body.

For a second, Julie was a little put off by his holding her so close. After all, she hardly knew him. But then, it felt so nice to float about in time to the soft operatic sounds wafting from the unfurnished living room that she let herself fit against him snugly. God, it felt good to be having fun and not be stuck in the house all the time, or at one of those stupid, silly music parties where Roy always managed to find the cocaine and the loosest women around. 'Don't think about that," her inner voice told her. 'Don't think about Roy.' Don tightened his hold on Julie until both his arms were around her waist, pulling her body in toward his as their feet barely moved in time to the classical music.

But other parts of him were moving. He was slowly undulating his hips and thighs against her loins in time to the music and she was beginning to feel every ridge and inch of him pressing tightly against her. His penis expanded against the flatness of her belly, pushing as he rubbed and rubbed himself slowly up against her.

Julie blushed and tried to pull to the side away from him, but it was impossible. And although it was disturbing, she remained flattened up against his rising member on one side, and the sink on the other, her glass of water sloshing over the sides.

She felt like a teenager... silly and giddy. There seemed no sense in questioning the fact that she was alone in an apartment with a man she hardly knew; after all, it was still afternoon.

"How's about another bottle of wine, Julie," he whispered in her ear, kissing her on the neck in taunting nibbles. "I've got one very special bottle I've been saving for the right moment," he melliflously urged. "And this is the right moment, isn't it?"

"Ah, well..." giggled Julie. "I guess the moment is what you make it...

"Hey, my kind of girl. All right!"

She didn't see any harm in staying for another bottle. Ertha's apartment was not far... three, four blocks, maybe and she had a key. She would share this bottle of wine-her gourmet curiosity demanded-and then leave. She didn't want to go back and be alone again watching television. Her tormented thoughts about Roy were gone for the first time and as long as the day continued, she knew that she would be free of sadness.

"As long as you don't get any wrong ideas," she added coyly as they turned and Don opened the top cabinet and reached in for the bottle of white burgundy that, true to his words, sported a sophisticated French label. Don looked at her,