Fiction
The Real Thing
Ken Wainio
Uncle Jack lived in a big two-story house with a ship's crow's nest on the roof high up in the Berkeley hills. He had made a lot of money running a chain of gas stations and was pretty much retired. He spent his time cruising around San Francisco Bay in his speedboat and drinking with buddies in waterfront bars with names like "The Crab Nook" or "Slab's Landing."
Jack was a very handsome guy. He looked like Gregory Peck in Moby Dick, except with both legs and a nosejob. He was generally good-natured and very likeable but when he was drinking heavily he could get awfully silly. He had the bad habit of pulling his cock out in public. It was impressive maybe a foot long but I found the gesture annoying on the part of an adult.
His workshop was a magical retreat. Shells driftwood starfish and sea-washed bottles lined the windows providing a panoramic view of San Francisco Bay. You could see the two bridges between them Alcatraz and Angel Island at night the city shining like a box of freshly opened jewels. The shop contained a colorful selection of art objects gathered from all over the world. There were ships in bottles ancient nautical devices African masks telescopes and astronomy equipment stuffed birds and animals weapons and bits of human bone picked up from battlefields a library of girly magazines and of course his homemade sexual toys. He was always carving giant cocks out of driftwood and making complicated mobile contraptions of fucking couples he kept hanging from the ceiling in a bright ever-varied display of human pleasure.
On one occasion we were sitting in the workshop going over a magazine. I wasn't showing much interest and Jack asked me what was wrong. I shrugged and stared out at the scene now submerged in a thick low-lying fog only Mt. Tam floating above like a fairy island.
"How old are you now kid?"
"Thirteen."
"What's bothering you girls right?"
"Yeah other things I guess."
"Other things?" He took a nip of bourbon. "You're way too young to be worried about other things." He put his bottle back whistling a little tune between his teeth as if he'd already forgotten the discussion. "Let's go for a ride."
"Where?"
"Africa."
In his canvas deck shoes baggy pants tropical shirt blue sailor's cap he looked like a shipwrecked Ahab. "Africa?"
"Down there."
We backed out of the garage heading downhill into a wooded residential district into Berkeley than into Oakland. The streets got increasingly flat and wide apart the buildings unpainted and rundown black people everywhere.
Jack pulled to the curb and pointed up the street three black girls slouched at a bus stop. He pointed across the street and there were two more under a light pole. Further up were a lot more all decked out in the wildest hairdos and clothing I'd ever seen. Brilliant low-cut blouses and leather dresses with beaded laces hanging off Daniel Boone style, tiny mini skirts hiked up to their butts, shiny boots and feathered hats, hair piled up in snakelike coils or ratted out every which way. Some fat, some thin, all about six feet or better, painted blue or scarlet around the eyes. Lips pink orange or sunset mauve. Some swinging brocaded bags or animal furs. Others fiddling with chains and unbelievable purses dancing about in high-heels jingling bracelets shifting from heel to toe in birdlike rhythms.
Stupid as I was I didn't know what they were but then it dawned on me they were whores.
Jack fished out his bottle. "Look at that one over there with red pumps and zebra skin jacket. Look at that ass. Or that one in blue with the chain and padlock around her waist no forget about that one you pick man."
"Jack I don't know."
He spied around before hoisting his bottle. "It's my treat these girls don't cost much but man do they give you a fuck."
"They're kind of big."
"Kind of big you're almost big as they are. They don't give a damn."
"These people scare the shit out of me."
He tucked the bottle in the glove box. "I'll drive around the block no sense getting one you don't like."
We turned the corner sure enough packed around a grocery store were more fantastic whores. "Now there ain't no white or green ones or pinks around here they're all spades but that don't make do difference I had dozens of them in Africa incredible it was the only good thing about the war they'll drive you nuts."
He stopped at the corner. A few of them sauntered over gawking with huge painted animal eyes. "Which one?"
"I don't know."
He singled one of the women over to the window. A whore in a leopard skin mini dress, snakeskin spikes yellow blouse cut above the navel. A wave of Juicy Fruit cheap perfume liquor hit me like a jungle breeze.
"How much?"
"For the kid?" She spun around on her heels. "Shit." She strutted away said something to another girl and sidled back. "I don't know man," she said, leaning through the window giving me quick catlike glances. "It's kind of weird I mean with a kid and all."
"How much?"
She played a little drum roll on the cab roof snapped her gum and said
"Twenty-five dollars and nothing for you."
"Get in."
She yanked the door open and piled into the cab crowding me over with her spotted leopard skin hip. She gave Jack directions and he pulled away from the curb.
"This your first time sweetheart?"
"Give him a little feel of it now."
She hoisted a vast bare leg with goose flesh the size of acne over my trembling knees revealing orange panties the same color of her nail polish and lipstick. Unbuttoning the crotch she exposing her cunt, insides the shocking pink of ripe grapefruit, all the while whispering gibberish in my ear. Grabbing my hand she shoved it down there. It was nothing like I had expected.
Jack had slowed the pickup to a crawl. "What's that stuff?"
"What stuff?"
"Those sores."
"Them ain't sores they just pimples."
"Those are open sores you got the clap."
"Ain't the clap just some kind of irritation these crotch-openers do it to me."
"Bullshit you got the clap."
She jerked my hand away pulling down her skirt. "You crazy take me back to where you got me right now!"
She was drumming her fingernails on the door and staring murderously at Jack. "This kid had five dollars worth of my pussy and you be some kind of pervert hauling this child around trying to get him sex give me my five!"
Jack threw a five at her. "Let me out here this good enough."
"Sorry about that kid I should have known better." I was holding my hand out the window. "Did she really have the clap?"
"I don't know but you can't be too careful with that stuff. We're not going to mess around with anymore of them vultures we'll drive over to Richmond and I'll set you up royal. It'll cost a little more but they'll be clean and any color you want."
We passed an oil refinery and drove under the San Raphael Bridge barges moored to the wharves and tankers anchored at bay. The hills were packed with yellow pink and green oil tanks that looked like they should contain soft drinks and not oil. Jack pulled up in front of a bar. There was a terrible stink in the air I thought was coming from the refinery.
"I'm going to make a phone call why don't you check out the whaling station across the street in the meantime."
The whaling station had a dark cavernous door like an open mouth. The stench wasn't breathable and I had to hold my nose. A gang of Chinese workmen in rubber aprons were hacking away at the better half of a whale torch lights shoved into its ribs. They were cutting off slabs of fat and loading it into carts. Blood was spreading over the floor and several dogs were lapping it up. The back of the place was open to the blue sky where I could see the whale's square head hanging from a cable. Little Chinese kids were swinging from its teeth. One of the men started cutting with a chainsaw spewing gore and I backed away stepping into a gob of blubber.
Jack was still in the bar having a drink and chatting with the barkeep. He came out unsteadily and we inched into downtown Richmond stopping at a store for another bottle. We went uphill again along a narrow lane thronged with old Victorians and got out at a cul-de-sac and went up back steps to a second floor entering the kitchen where a plump older woman was seated at the table smoking. Jack gave her a kiss and introduced me to Madame Garloo.
He tried to pull up her dress but she brushed his hand away. He dropped his fly and hauled out his cock then staggered and fell into a chair cock sprawling across his lap.
She put out her smoke. "I've seen bigger."
Jack managed to replace himself and leaned forward. "Now what can we do here for the kid?"
She lit another cigarette and looked me over. Her face was kind but fixed like a statue's. She reminded me of a general or cop. "You know I'm doing you guys a big favor you know he's only thirteen when you start fooling with minors it's a horse of a different color."
She gazed indifferently out the window something vague about her like a statue in mist. Her eyes were steady but unfocused seeing distantly.
"They don't have many places like this anymore.'
Jack appeared to be nodding out. "World's going to hell in a rowboat."
She got to her feet. "Okay let's take you back and introduce you to the girls."
We entered a dining room heavily curtained and dimly lit paintings of nude women on the walls. The buffet was loaded with food and drink and a blond dressed in a short transparent nightie was perched on the lap of an old guy in one corner. We went down a hall with closed doors to a drawing room lavishly furnished with Persian rugs framed mirrors more paintings and antique furniture three women posed by the fireplace all wearing bedroom gear and drinking brandy. The room smelled strongly of incense and some kind of Indian music was droning in the background.
Madame Garloo pushed me over by the fire. "This kid here wants to become a full-fledged Homo sapiens." She went out and the women studied me. I was unable to meet their amused gazes the fire at my backside.
A pretty brunette ruffled my hair. "You need a drink sweetheart you're trembling all over."
"Want to smoke some of this?" asked the strawberry blond.
"He don't need any of that," said a chocolate colored one. She was wearing frilly panties under her open gown pointed breasts swinging free. She poured a glass of brandy and shoved it in my hand. "If you're nervous it'll loosen you up so you can enjoy yourself."
I normally hated the stuff but it seemed to help. "Drink it all," she said flopping her breasts in my face. She poured me another. "Now sit down and relax."
I found myself seated deliriously between she the chocolate one and the strawberry blond. The brunette was across from us with one foot on the coffee table. She had nothing on under her robe. Hands were all over me. The brunette named Carol stood before the fire gown open and swaying to the music. She must of sensed I liked her the best for she put her glass down taking me by hand.
We went down another hall to a room in the far back with a view of rooftops descending steeply towards the bay. A crow was sitting on a wire just outside the window. "I didn't know you had crows in the city."
She pushed me into a cushy chair. "Le vieux carbeaux."
"What?"
She was running her hands over my stomach and down my legs. "Crow in French."
"You know French?"
"Why sure sweetheart I used to live in Montreal." She unzipped my black suede boots and pulled them off. "Pew where in God's name have you been?"
"Whaling station."
"Wonderful."
She undid my belt and pulled my jeans off miraculously sliding her hands around and yanking off my underwear laughing as they caught on my erection. Pushing my legs open wide she traced little patterns over my inner thighs while kissing my stomach in a downward spiral finally taking my straining member in her mouth and slowly consuming it. When I thought I was about to lose it she pulled me to my feet and sat down in the chair herself legs spread skin bluish in the afternoon light, there was so much flesh I didn't know where to begin.
I tried to kiss her but she pushed my head away and took my cock in her hand. The crow was still there watching me with unblinking eyes. Fog was just closing in on a couple of ships passing in opposite directions between Richmond and Tiburon. Everything seemed very close pressed together part of a toy landscape. The cars and people were proportionate to one another but still miniature in kind without depth like a child's crude drawing. Distance had vanished and everything was more or less the same size as the crow on the wire. My cock suddenly corded up and I slipped inside her magically. The unexpected warmth and wetness flooded all the way up to my eyeballs and filled the room with visionary light. Still I couldn't get the real view into perspective. The bay was a dammed up mud puddle with fake boats and cars crossing a plastic pier various bugs pretending to be men. The sun was being wiped away under a gray sheet and before I could get things straight and tell myself it was real the crow jumped up and flew away. I hadn't really noticed the woman's face before but now it seemed like she was wearing a doll's mask that didn't fit right eyes dull and sleepy. And then I was coming ember after burning ember flaring up from the darkness like a crescendo of fireworks. And I groaned and thrashed as I once had upon awakening from an operation blissful relief mixed at the opposite end of memory with nightmare and pain.
She patted my hair. "There sweetheart you're a man."
"I know," I said and began to cry.