COLUMN 101, JANUARY 1, 2004
(Copyright © 2004 The Blacklisted Journalist)
THE GREAT BARRYMORE
WARNING! FOR ADULTS ONLY! PERSONS NOT YET 18 YEARS OF AGE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO READ THIS STORY.
[Tsaurah Litzky is a poet and writer of fiction, non fiction and erotica. We call her America's queen of erotic literature. Susie Bright, editor of the yearly Best American Erotica books, calls her "Miss Dirty Stories." Tsaurah's work has appeared in Best American Erotica 95, 97, 99, 2001, 2002 and 2003. She has also been published in Penthouse, LONGSHOT, The Unbearables, Crimes of the Beats, Appearances, Downtown Poets, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, Pink Pages, Beet and many other books and periodicals. Her poetry books include Kamikaze Lover (Appearances 1999), Good Bye Beautiful Mother (Low Tech Press 2001) and Baby on the Water (Longshot, 2003). Formerly a columnist for the now defunct New York arts weekly Downtown, she now teaches erotic writing and literature at the New School University.
It was the summer of love.
All over America, people, many of them young people, were celebrating the joys
of sex. I, however was getting punished. I had just been fired from my job as
junior counselor at Camp Towanda in Monticello New York.
I was caught in flagrante delecto with the horseback-riding
counselor, Henry. We were in my bunk while my campers were off at archery
instruction. I was sent home in disgrace to my family in Brooklyn. .
Just a quickie," Henry
said, 'the French letter in my wallet has your name on it.
We had about fifteen
seconds to go when the camp director, Mr. Kaufman, walked in the door. I was
only seventeen. Henry could have been sent to jail for banging a minor but Henry
was the only person at Camp Towanda who could saddle a horse. I was sacked
I packed my things into my
steamer trunk to be sent down after me, then Mr. Kaufman drove me to the
Greyhound bus station. I sat beside him in the passenger seat. He kept a stern
expression on his face while he was driving but could not stop himself from
glancing down at the plump, pink thighs revealed by my madras shorts.
"I had such high hopes for you," he said as he marched me
up to the ticket window. After he brought my ticket, he handed me a ten-dollar
bill. 'take a taxi from the bus station," he said, "a girl like you is not
safe on the subway."
The bus was nearly full but
there were a couple of empty seats a few rows back from the driver. I took the
one by the window. As we drove down through the Catskill hills in the early
evening, I thought about what I would tell my mother. She had been so pleased
her rebellious daughter was good enough to land a summer job. Also, she was
constantly, fantasizing about my wedding to Morris Petchnick, the
seventeen-year-old genius, already a sophomore at NYU. He lived down the block
from us. I could never tell my
mother about Henry, a high school dropout who was Catholic besides and not even
Monroe, New York, Monroe
New York," the bus driver announced as he pulled off the highway into a
deserted gas station. A single passenger climbed aboard and the driver pulled
the bus back onto the road. The new passenger paused by my seat. He was an old
gent dressed all in white. His long hair was white too and worn Prince Valiant
style down his back.
May I sit here?? he
Immersed in my dilemma, I
barely nodded my head. He sank down with a grateful sigh. No matter what I told
my mother she would be very unhappy I had been fired. The thought of seeing her
made me feel weak and nauseous, besides I was hungry. I hadn't eaten anything
since my breakfast pancake at Camp Lokanda. My stomach started to growl like a
My seatmate turned to me.
A hungry stomach has no
ears, as Shakespeare told us," he said, "How about a hardboiled egg?
I always carry a few in my pocket."
I rejected his kind but
Actually," I told him,
"I don't like eggs."
I'm sorry I haven't a nice cutlet for you or perhaps a
shepherd's pie," he answered.
I told him he sounded like
an English teacher but when I asked him, he answered:
"Certainly not! But," he continued, 'the Bard of Avon is
indeed my stock in trade. Do you know who you are talking with, my dear?? he
No," I said.
You are speaking with
the great Barrymore," he announced, "World renowned star of the stage and
I was speaking to a kook
but I decided to humor him.
"Oh yes, now I recognize you now," I said. " I saw you
in that movie, The Man Who Came to Dinner,
but you were in a wheelchair."
'that was not me," he replied, 'that was my brother, the
unfortunate Lionel. I am John, John Barrymore, foremost actor of my
The foremost actor had seen
better days. His T-shirt was worn
and stained, his chinos ripped at the knee. He was wearing no socks beneath his
white moccasins and his ankles were dirty.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr.Barrymore," I extended my hand.
You may call me John,?
he said as he gripped my hand in his slender fingers, "but tell me, my dear,
where are you going this lovely evening??
He was so nice. I just
broke down and told him the whole story. When I got to the part about getting
caught in my bunk with Henry, John said:
Maybe it's not
misfortune but good fortune, my dear. This whole incident is impelling you
forward into a greater destiny."
I told him how worried I
was about seeing my mother, and that I could never tell her about Henry.
Nor should you, dear
girl," he said, "Why distress the lovely lady, why remind her that her
little chickadee is already making tentative forays from the nest??
He took a hardboiled egg
out of his pants pocket and cracked it on top of the seat in front of us. He
suggested I lie to my mother.
Just make up a story,?
he said as he peeled the egg, "and buy her a little gift, something to show
that you care."
He was right.
He put the eggshells in his pocket and offered the egg to me.
'thanks so much," I
said as I accepted it.
The rest of the way back to
the city he told me about his career. When we got to the Port Authority Bus
Terminal, he insisted on carrying my backpack up the escalator to the main
level. As he handed it back to me he said:
Good luck to you, dear
girl, and remember, the truth a beautiful woman tells should always be written
on the wind."
He bowed gracefully from
the waist, turned, and walked off briskly in the direction of the Men's room.
At the Rexall's in the
Port Authority, I brought my mother a $6.99 bottle of
For once, she took my side.
'that's so unfair,?
she said, uncapping the White Shoulders and taking a sniff. "You're such a
considerate girl, so thoughtful. Camp Lokanda lost a good junior counselor, but
Honey," she went on, "What's that rash on your neck? Oh, oh, you've got
it too," she exclaimed, " See!"
She grabbed me by the wrist
and pulled me to the mirror in the kitchen. There was indeed a big red splotch
on my neck. It was a hickey made by Henry that morning.
No, no Ma," I said,
"it's a mosquito bite. I got it yesterday."
Through the years, the
Great Barrymore has helped me out of other tricky situations. I think of him
looking down on me benevolently from the stage of some tacky, second-rate
theater in the sky. Just last week, he came back to guide me again.
I dropped my glass reading
lamp on the floor, shattering it completely. I decided to go to Red Hook, to
Danny's Decodorables on Colombia Street near the old docks for a new one.
Danny always gives me a break because we both used to work at the flea market in
the schoolyard on Columbus Avenue.
I parked my car down the
block from his shop in front of Golden Lotus Chicken, a poultry slaughterhouse
run by a 300-pound Chinese lady. My eyes tearing, I dashed down the street
through the overwhelming stench of blood and wet feathers. As I got closer to
Danny's, I saw two figures sitting in overstuffed armchairs in the midst of
the odd jumble of furniture outside the store. One of them was Danny in his
beat-up brown derby hat. Sitting in
the other chair was Carlo Rizzo.
The last time I saw Carlo
was ten years ago in Soho, with a Princess Di clone on his arm. He gave me a
smile as they loped by but I couldn't smile back.
met him in the flea market too. He worked as a picker for several big antique
dealers. When I was setting up in the early mornings I noticed him prowling
about. He was a powerful brute who moved gracefully through the stacked oriental
rugs, assorted rocking chairs and motley brass coat racks like a panther in the
The women who worked in the market were always smiling at him. Sometimes he showed up
the holy grail
with a woman of his own, but always a different one. One morning he stopped
by my costume jewelry stand. He said he was looking for a present for his
It was bliss for two
months. Carlo was so happy with me he called my pussy the Holy Grail. He even
said he wanted to be true to me. One day I told him how old I was. He was
shocked to learn I was thirteen years older then he was.
He had thought we were the same age.
'ten years from now, I
won't want an aging wife, " he said. "I know myself. I know what turns me
on. I'd only run around on you."
I told him he might not be
alive ten years from now. I told him the women in my family were timeless
beauties. I told him we were still stunning in our coffins, but I was beaten and
I knew it.
For months after we broke
up, I kept bouncing off the walls, misplacing my keys, dropping my make-up down
the toilet. My friends said I should be thankful he was honest with me, forget
him, move on. All I could think about was how happy I was when we were together
and how his great tool fit into me like a key into a lock.
Now here he was, elegant as
ever, not even a dozen feet away, intently looking me up and down.
Miraculously, the great
Barrymore reached his invisible hands down from the sky. He quickly pulled my
arms behind my back and put his hands over mine. Together we took the shiny,
silver band I always wore on the middle finger of my right hand off that finger
and slid it firmly down the finger to the left, my wedding ring finger.
Suddenly, I was safe. I was protected from Carlo. I was married!
"Well, well, hello, hello," Carlo said. Before I could
reply, Danny piped up,
'this is Miss Dirty
Stories, do you two know each other??
Know each other??
Carlo answered, "?You bet! I met her the same place I met you, Deco Dan."
Carlo addressed me
directly, 'time has been so very kind to you," he said.
'tell him he is still the same old Casanova, " the great
Barrymore whispered in my ear, "and show him your wedding ring."
With my left hand I started
picking some non-existent lint off my black coat, flashing my ring in Carlo's
You are still the same
old Casanova, Carlo," I said.
I tried not to look
directly at him. I didn't want to fall in love with his big, fleshy mouth
'so, when are you going
to put me in one of your stories?? Danny piped up.
I don't know," I
said, still flashing my ring at Carlo, who was looking at me like I was a
cannoli. "Depends on what kind of
deal you give me on a lamp."
I'll show you what I
got," said Danny rising from the chair. I followed him as he lumbered ahead of
me into his shop. I picked a brass
table lamp fitted with two round, milk-glass globes. I argued Danny down to
thirty dollars from fifty although my heart wasn't in it. I was thinking of
Carlo. I both wanted him to be there when I went back outside and I wanted him
to be gone.
Carlo was still sitting in
that chair. He uncrossed his legs slowly in front of me and I could make out the
shape of his balls. I remembered how dark they were; purple and veiny like giant
'that's a cool lamp," Carlo said, "You always had
great taste," and he licked his lips, showing me the thick tongue that had
once licked my clit for two hours straight. I clutched the lamp before me like a
shield and didn't answer him. I thanked Danny for the bargain, then turned and
ran back towards my car.
Driving home down Colombia
Street, I couldn't see the road ahead. All I could see was Carlo uncrossing
his legs. I remembered a hot summer night when we were driving home from a Los
Lobos concert in the Central Park in his new white BMW. We rode down Tenth
Avenue. As we crossed 34th Street, he took one hand off the wheel. He
grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch, wrapping my fingers around the big
animal he had there. It quivered as
I held it but I didn't let go as we drove on, passing shuttered auto repair
shops and dark warehouses.
Below Thirtieth Street, the
ladies of the evening were out, dressed like Birds of Paradise. Carlo slowed the
car. He pulled over to the curb behind a yellow van with Jersey plates. Through
the open car window, I could smell a pungent mix of spilled beer, garbage, piss
and heavy perfumes. An enormous woman with a red Afro wearing a short pink dress
got out of the van. She slammed the door and sauntered off.
Carlo rolled up his window,
flipped on the air conditioning and leaned over me to roll my window up. Then he
bit my ear, kissed my lips, my throat, the place where my neck and shoulder
join. He lowered his head and sucked my nipple through the ribbed fabric of my
tube top. He kept at it until my tiny tit was hard a penny. He knew how hot
having my tit sucked made me. Then he lifted my fingers off him, unzipped his
fly and pulled it out, a squirming living creature.
I'll give you a
million dollars to blow me," he said,
You, I'll do for
free," I told him. I gathered his fat cock tip up in my fingers like it was
the bud of a flower. I bent my head down just in time to lick up the first, rich
pearly drops of pre-cum. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took him in,
my lips sliding down him, my tongue stretching out to tangle the hairy moss at
the root. His cock tip tickled the back of my throat as I sucked; his sweet meat
seemed to melt on my tongue.
Suddenly, I was wet again
between my legs, so wet that I wondered if I was leaking through my clothes to
leave a stain on the already grimy car seat. I clamped my legs tight shut,
trying to lock the memory of Carlo back up deep inside me. This sudden motion
caused me to involuntarily pull my car sharply to the right. The car behind me
"Get a hold of yourself girl," the great Barrymore called
down to me from up on high. I took several deep breaths, made myself sit up
straight and drove carefully home.
For the next few days, I
had to force myself to work on my memoir of my life in
New York in the seventies.
Carlo kept creeping into my head. I
knew why just seeing him had such a strong effect on me even after so many
years. Doing it with him was always easy, like a spontaneous song from the
I was sitting in front of
my computer writing about my one-nighter with the very famous rock star. I was
trying to visualize the double Prince Albert the rock icon had piercing his
modest prick, but Carlo's big balls kept obscuring my sight, dancing like
visions of sugarplums before my minds eye.
I was so lonely and
frustrated I just had to go lay down in bed. I thought about getting my dildo
out and using it while fantasizing about doing it with Carlo, but I knew that
would only make me want him more. I made a weak attempt to comfort myself by
putting my hand inside my panties, and playing with my pubic hair. After a
while, my stomach began to growl again, just as it had years ago on the
"Why is it I am always reminding you to feed yourself?
the great Barrymore chided me affectionately, from his great distance.
"Go out and get some food. Go to the supermarket, buy some eggs."
The only food I had in the
house was half an old onion and two packages of chocolate pudding. Barrymore was
I drove to my favorite
Pathmark on Hamilton Avenue. Surrounded by junkyards and small factories, the
giant, brightly lit supermarket sparkled like a vast temple of earthly delights,
in the shadow of the BQE. Once inside I find a shiny silver cart. I decide to go
for protein first and I bypass the fruit and vegetable section and head straight
for the tuna fish aisle.
I am reading the label of a
Progresso Tuna in Olive Oil can, checking the carbohydrate count, when my cart
is rammed from behind, sending it poking into my waist.
I turn, planning to tell
the clumsy oaf in back of me to get a drivers license, but it's Carlo. His
cart is filled with gallons of water and packages of spaghetti; he was never
much of a cook.
I've been following you," he says, "When I saw you
glide past the fruit aisle, at first I thought I was dreaming."
I quickly throw the can of
tuna I'm holding into my cart, clasp my hands behind me like a shy schoolgirl,
and slide my ring off the middle finger of my left hand onto the wedding ring
finger beside it.
I'm sorry I rammed
your cart," Carlo said, "I only meant to tap you.
He smiled down at me,
flexing his velvet mouth. I grabbed the handle of my cart to steady myself.
What are you doing
here?? I asked him, trying to keep my voice from trembling. He needed a shave
badly. I always found his five o?clock shadow so very exciting. I instantly
wanted him to rub the stubble on his cheeks up and down over my liquid pussy
until his face was shiny and slick with my oils. I wondered if he knew what I
was thinking, he used to be able to read my mind. If so, he didn't let on.
I moved here five years
ago," he said, " It was me who turned Danny on to the neighborhood."
Er, well a lot of people
are moving down to Red Hook," I countered lamely,
I see you got
married," he said, looking down at my hand. "Do you still live in the same
Yes," I answered, my
voice a bit steadier.
he said, " So what does your husband do?
Do," I said, "Do??
I repeated, my mind a sudden blank. Just then a couple of young guys
walked by, on of them was wearing a Rolling Stones jacket.
"He's a musician," I said.
A musician," Carlo mused. "What instrument does he play??
I thought about the world
famous jazz violinist I met last month who begged me to call him and then never
returned my call.
He's a violinist, a
famous jazz violinist," I heard myself saying, in a voice much deeper than my
usual squeaky soprano, a voice more than a little reminiscent of the great
Barrymore's "He travels
quite a bit, he's always touring. In fact, he's in Europe right now."
Carlo stepped closer, so close I could feel the hungry heat of his body though his clothes.
'so, he's on the road a lot, "Carlo said, "How often
do you speak? Don't you get lonely??
I struggled vainly against
my rampant desire for him.
I know where you're going with that," I told Carlo,
"and I don't see how it's any of your business. Besides, aren't I too
old for you? I seem to remember you saying something like that."
Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Carlo. "I've calmed down,
that was ages ago."
Anyhow," I went on defiantly, "You're a fool to hit
on a married woman."
Maybe I'm not such a fool," said Carlo. "Why did you
tell me your husband was away??
I felt my face getting red.
He was always such a clever one. I was not so very surprised to hear myself
Well, he has been away
so much in the last year, I guess I am feeling kind of down."
'then," said Carlo quick as a flash, "Let me cheer you
I knew it was giving the
devil another crack at me but I couldn't help myself. I looked up into
Carlo's fiery eyes.
O.k.," I said.
You won't be sorry,?
he answered, reaching out, putting his big hand over mine. "I'll be
discreet, I promise. Since your husband is away, can we go to your place?
I just brought three complete Fifties? living room sets. They're in
my loft waiting for the dealers to pick them up. The loft is so crowded
there's hardly space to breathe."
Of course, we couldn't go to my place where there was no sign of any husband about, not even a
The Great Barrymore told her to say she wouldn't feel comfortable doing it in the same bed
slipper. I tried to remember if it was William Blake who said folly is an
endless maze. I looked over Carlo's shoulder, praying for some inspiration.
'tell him you wouldn't
be comfortable in the same bed," he said.
"I wouldn't feel right in the same bed," I told Carlo. I
wondered if my nose was growing longer and longer and pointy like Pinocchio's.
Then, suddenly, I knew what to suggest
I have a better idea,?
I told him, "It's dark now. Let's go to Coney Island and do it under the
boardwalk, like teenagers or homeless people."
'that's a great
idea," Carlo agreed, 'so sexy, what imagination. I'll pick up some condoms
right here in the pharmacy." I
was rather heartened that he didn't always carry a supply with him but then
again maybe he was temporarily out.
We put our groceries in the
trunk of Carlo's car and left my car in the parking lot.
I'll drive you back to
your car later," Carlo said, I was surprised to find he was still driving that
same BMW with a few dents added. "Like you, these cars improve with age," he
He briefly turned his head
and winked at me as he drove up the ramp to the BQE.
You can give it a rest
now," I told him.
We got off at the Surf
Avenue Exit and parked on 17th street. The summer concessions were
closed for the season.
I have a blanket in the
trunk," said Carlo.
He draped it around his
neck and we held hands as we walked past a shuttered Sammy's Skee-Ball, a Bean
the Freak and P.T. Barnum Jr.'s Tunnel of Love.
We climbed the ramp to the
Boardwalk. The yellow moon floated high above us in the clear, night sky like a
backwards question mark. No other people were around and the only sounds we
heard were the gulls feeding on the beach. We went down the wooden stairs to the
sand, then turned in under the boardwalk. Long, thin stripes of light from the
boardwalk lamps fell though the planks, illuminating our would-be love nest.
Carlo let the blanket drop
and grabbed me up in his arms. I was wearing a long denim skirt that was loose
enough for me easily loop my legs up around his waist. His jacket was open, my
panties already damp with wanting. I hoped that through the thin fabric of his
T-shirt, he could feel the eager kiss of my moist nether lips on his belly. I
wanted him to feel my cunt opening, inviting him. He must have got the message because he used one hand to
creep into the crotch of my panties and play inside my slit, teasing me with me
with his experienced fingers until I was frantic with desire. I couldn't stop
myself from moving onto his fingers, trying to catch them and pull them pull
them even deeper inside me. I looked up to find him smiling down on me.
I have something else
all ready for you, little snapper," Carlo said.
He lifted me up and stood
me back down on the sand. He leaned against a nearby pole, unzipped his jeans. He
never wore any underwear, and the big beast jumped out. It was already stiff and
more ferocious then I remembered, all the better to conquer me.
Carlo got a condom packet out of his jacket pocket and ripped it open,
took the condom out. Before he could put it on, I remembered something I had
read about in Penthouse magazine.
me do that for you," I said.
said Carlo and he handed it to me. I made a big O out of my lips and placed it
inside. I liked the way the latex smelled, like a combination of pencil erasers
and Elmer's Glue. I knelt in
front of Carlo, unrolling the condom onto him with my lips. He was so thick I
could only unroll it halfway down. I finished the job with my fingers while I
licked his balls then I squeezed them both into my mouth, pressing and sucking
his satin scrotum. It swelled so much I could barely contain his balls in my
mouth so I moved my attention to his silky perineum. I licked my way up to his
back hole, to the hungry little mouth I knew I would find there. I could hear
him panting above me. He always liked this. When I first speared him there with
my tongue, he had screamed with pleasure. I wanted to try this again but I
didn't get a chance.
He quickly leaned down, reached under my arms and pulled me up, up high above his waist. He used his pointy cock to pull my panties aside and then he steam-rolled right into me. I swallowed him up inside me as my legs encircled his waist again. I slipped my tongue into my mouth while he kissed me. Kissing and fucking slowly, we made long squish, squish sounds. After a while, we started to move faster and faster, each time he moved up into me his balls spanked my bottom, slap, slap, slap. I was grateful for this little spanking, it excited me even more, I knew I deserved it. I was such a bad girl; a lying, bad, bad girl. Soon our bodies were flying together through time and space. We came together like we always did at the same moment. . Our sighs of pleasure floated up like dreams, carried away on the crisp, salt air.
We never even used the
blanket when we were under the boardwalk, but walking back to the car, Carlo
folded it in two and made a cape of it. The evening had gotten colder, and he
held it around my shoulders, his long arm coiled around me like a giant
tentacle. I wanted to ask him to never leave me. I wanted to invite him to live
with me forever in an octopus garden by the sea.
'shush, shush, loose lips sink ships," the great Barrymore
counseled me, his familiar voice floating down in a shower of stars. 'shush,
shush, " he repeated. I bit my lips, and managed to keep silent. I wondered if
Barrymore had seen everything we did under out Boardwalk canopy. I wondered if
he could still get hard.
"I have to tell you, you're better then ever," Carlo
said. "Listen, I don't want to queer what you have going on. I'm no home
I wanted to tell him that a
heartbreaker was what he was; yet I still managed to keep silent.
But, if you want to see
me sometime," he continued, "whenever, wherever, at any hour of the day or
night, just let me know. Like I said, I can be very discreet."
When we were back sitting
in the car, he opened the glove compartment, rummaging through the clutter
inside, looking for something. I couldn't help but see a fine, black leather,
ladies dress glove and a powder compact. It was an Ordeal compact, my brand, but
certainly, it wasn't my compact. Finally, Carlo found what he was looking for,
a thin small brass case. He took out a white business card and handed it tome.
Call me any time," he
murmured, tenderly kissing the side of my mouth.
I thought about how quickly
and easily he had moved in on me in the Pathmark. I suspected he hadn't calmed
down all that much but maybe my new faux marital status gave me the upper hand.
I dropped Carlos? card into the pocket of my skirt.
The great Barrymore
whispered in my ear.
Don't loose that
card," he said. ##
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