Kane & Abel (1979) Read online

  ‘You won’t,’ said Clara stonily.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Abel, surprised. ‘Something I did?’

  ‘No, something you didn’t do.’ She jumped out of bed and started to dress quickly.

  ‘What didn’t I do? You wanted to go to bed with me, didn’t you?’

  She turned around and faced him. ‘I thought I did, until I realized you have only one thing in common with Rudolf Valentino - you’re both dead. You may be the smartest thing the Plaza has seen in a bad year, but in bed, I can tell you, you’re a non-event.’ Fully dressed now, Clara paused by the door, composing her parting thrust. ‘Tell me, have you ever persuaded any girl to go to bed with you a second time?’

  Stunned, Abel stared as the door slammed behind her. He spent the rest of the day thinking about Clara’s accusation. He couldn’t think of anyone he could discuss it with; George would only have laughed at him, and the staff at the Plaza all thought he knew everything. He decided that this problem, like any other he had encountered in his life, could be overcome with study or experience.

  After lunch that day he visited Scribner’s on Fifth Avenue. The bookstore had in the past solved all his economics and linguistic problems, but he couldn’t find anything on its shelves that looked as if it might even begin to help his sexual ones. The books on etiquette were useless as he knew how to hold a knife and fork, and The Moral Dilemma turned out to be utterly inappropriate.

  Abel left the store without making a purchase, and spent the rest of the afternoon in a dingy Broadway fleapit, not watching the movie but still going over what Clara had said. The film, a love story starring Greta Garbo and Errol Flynn, did not reach the kissing stage until the final reel, and provided no more insight than Scribner’s had.

  When Abel left the movie house it was early evening, and there was a cool breeze blowing down Broadway. It still surprised Abel that any city could be almost as noisy and bright by night as it was by day. He started walking uptown towards Fifty-Ninth Street, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. He stopped on the corner of Fifty-Second to buy an evening paper, so he could check the closing stock prices.

  ‘Looking for a girl?’ asked a voice from the corner by the newsstand.

  Abel turned around. She must have been about thirty-five, heavily made up and wearing the latest fashionable shade of pink lipstick. Her white silk blouse had a couple of buttons undone, and she wore a long black skirt, black stockings and black shoes.

  ‘Only five dollars, worth every penny,’ she said, pushing her hip out at an angle, allowing the slit in her skirt to part and reveal the top of her stockings.

  ‘Where do we go?’ asked Abel.

  ‘I have a little place of my own on the next block.’

  She inclined her head, indicating the direction she meant, and for the first time he saw her face clearly under the streetlight. She was not unattractive. Abel nodded his agreement, and she took his arm.

  ‘If the police stop and question us,’ she said, ‘you’re an old friend, and my name’s Joyce.’

  They walked to the next block and entered a squalid little apartment building. Abel was horrified by the dingy room, with its single bare lightbulb, one chair, a wash basin and a crumpled double bed, which had obviously already been occupied several times that day.

  ‘You live here?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Good God, no. I only use this place for work.’

  ‘Why do you do this?’ asked Abel, wondering still if he wanted to go through with his plan.

  ‘I have two children to bring up and no husband. Can you think of a better reason? Now, do you want me or not?’

  ‘Yes, but not the way you think,’ said Abel.

  She eyed him warily. ‘Not one of those weird ones, an admirer of the Marquis de Sade, are you?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Abel.

  ‘You’re not gonna burn me with cigarettes?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I just need to be taught how to make love. I want lessons.’

  ‘Lessons? Are you joking? What do you think this is, baby, a fucking night school?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Abel. He sat down on the corner of the bed and told her what Clara had said that morning. ‘Do you think you can help?’

  The lady of the night studied Abel more carefully, wondering if it was April 1st.

  ‘Sure,’ she said finally, ‘but it’s still going to cost you five dollars for thirty minutes.’

  ‘More expensive than a BA from Columbia,’ said Abel. ‘How many lessons do you think I’ll need?’

  ‘Depends how quick a learner you are, doesn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Well, let’s start right now,’ said Abel, taking a five-dollar bill out of an inside pocket. She tucked it into the top of her stocking, a sure sign she never took them off.

  ‘Clothes off first, baby,’ she said. ‘You won’t learn much fully dressed.’

  When he was naked, she looked at him critically. ‘You’re not exactly Douglas Fairbanks, are you? Don’t worry about it - it doesn’t matter what you look like once the lights are out; it only matters what you can do.’

  Abel listened carefully as she told him how to treat a lady. She was surprised to find that he really didn’t want her, and was even more surprised when he continued to turn up every afternoon for the next three weeks. ‘When will I know I’ve made it?’ he asked her one evening.

  ‘You’ll know, baby,’ replied Joyce. ‘If you can make me come, you can make an Egyptian mummy come.’

  She taught him first where the sensitive parts of a woman’s body were, and then to be patient in his lovemaking - and the signs that would show when he was pleasing her. How to use his tongue and lips in every place other than a woman’s mouth.

  Abel listened carefully, and followed her instructions to the letter, to begin with, a little too mechanically. Despite her assurance that he was improving out of all recognition, he had no real idea if she was telling him the truth, until one afternoon about three weeks and $110 later, when to his surprise and delight Joyce suddenly came alive in his arms. She held his head close to her as he gently licked her nipples. As he stroked her between her legs, he discovered she was wet - for the first time - and after he had entered her she moaned, a sound he had never experienced before and found intensely exciting. She clawed at his back, commanding him not to stop. The moaning continued, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Finally she cried out sharply, clung onto him and then relaxed.

  When she had caught her breath, she said, ‘Baby, you just graduated top of the class.’

  Abel hadn’t even come.

  Abel celebrated being awarded his degree by paying scalper’s prices to see Babe Ruth’s New York Yankees defeat the Pittsburgh Pirates in the World Series decider. He invited George, Monika and a reluctant Clara to be his guests for the evening. After the game, Clara felt it was nothing less than her duty to go to bed with Abel; after all, he had spent a month’s wages on her.

  The following morning, just before she left, Clara said, When will I see you again?’

  Once Abel had graduated from Columbia, he quickly became dissatisfied with his life at the Plaza, but he could not figure out how to take advantage of his new qualifications.

  Although he served some of the wealthiest and most successful men in America, he was unable to approach any of them directly; to do so might well cost him his job. In any case, customers like that were unlikely to pay any attention to the aspirations of a waiter.

  On one occasion, when Mr and Mrs Ellsworth Statler came to lunch at the Plaza’s Edwardian Room, he thought his chance had come. He did everything he could think of to impress the famous hotelier, and the meal went without a hitch. As he left, Statler thanked Abel warmly and tipped him $10, but he didn’t say another word. As Abel watched him disappear through the Plaza’s revolving doors, he couldn’t help wondering if he was ever going to get a break.

  When he returned to his post, Sammy, the headwaiter, tapped him on the shoulder