SECTION SEVEN

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COLUMN 106, JUNE 1, 2004
(Copyright 2004 The Blacklisted Journalist)

VINNY

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. ]

Vinny pulled out of me. I had my period. He raised himself on his hands and looked down. I had a fine view of his long cock. It was still stiff and now, covered with my blood, looked black, sleek and oily as an eel. I was stained too; red, fuzzy stripes ran down the insides of my thighs.

 "I like it when you're on the rag," Vinny said. "It adds spice. You look like you're   growing feathers down your legs. Maybe you're turning into a bird, a robin with red legs instead of a red breast, or maybe, maybe you're turning into a turkey."

I put my hand out and pulled at his cock tip.

"Very funny," I said as I tugged.

He leered down at me.

"Careful," he said, "What good will that be to you if you pull it off??

He swung over on his side, sat up on the edge of the bed. The smell of my menses hung in the air above us, pungent and beefy.

"Where are your towels?? he asked, "I want to clean you."

I told him they were in the wooden cabinet under my kitchen sink. He got up and went into the other room. I heard the water running. I put my arms over my head and stretched, elongating my spine. My whole body was suffused with sweetness, soft, relaxed as taffy. Vinny knew how to work it, He would make me come two or three times with his fingers or tongue before he even put that big wazoo inside me. No matter how much I implored him, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me now, he took his time. I loved the words he would whisper in my ear once he was inside me, Open your cunt, open your cunt wider, oh what a nice cunt, oh baby, so juicy, so juicy, give it to me baby, give it to me. For a little girl, you got such a big cunt.

Once he even sang a little jingle over and over as he was poking me. Tall girl, small cunt, small girl, all cunt. I doubted if this was universally true, but I did appreciate the compliment. I always appreciate a compliment.   

I met Vinny at Pete's. I was counting my tips at the end of the bar after my shift when I looked up to see a burly guy with a mile-wide smile a few seats away.

"You got enough money to go to Honolulu?? he asked.

I liked the warming light in his eyes and the way he looked boldly at me. I looked right back at him,

"No," I answered, "Maybe Hoboken."

Quick as a whistle, he said, "Let me go with you, we'll find Frank Sinatra, ask him to have a drink with us."

 'sure, as long as you're buying," I told him.

"I'll always buy when I'm with you," was his answer. 

Now he was coming back into the room holding a fluffy white towel. He had already cleaned himself. The sight of his lean thighs, his big, puffy purple balls and pointy, uncut purple sex, made me want to reach out and pull him inside me again. He read my mind.

"Maybe later," he said, "You wore me out, I'm exhausted and I'm hungry. I need to build up my strength and you need some food, too. Let's go to Junior's and get some strawberry cheesecake.  

It was only a month since I met Vinny but I was already so comfortable with him. He slid inside me as smooth and easy it was as if he was designed just for me. When I wasn't with him, I was hungry for his smell, a mix of Lucky Strikes, Mars Bars and sweat. This was dangerous because he didn't want to get serious and was, in fact, seeing someone else. He told me about her on our first date.

We were driving down Ocean Parkway in his VW bus, going for baked clams at Nathan's. He took one hand off the steering wheel and put it on my leg, right where my denim skirt stopped above the knee. 

 "You're smart and nice and easy on the eyes," he said. "I'd like to get to know you better, but you should be aware I'm already seeing someone. She lives in New Jersey." 

He told me, he didn't want to get too serious with anyone. He was planning on doing some traveling very soon and when he came back then he was going to open a construction business with his friend Roger.

"I got to keep my mind on my goals," Vinny said, "but? he continued, "if you can accept how it is with me, we can have a good time." 

I looked over at him. He had a large, succulent bow-shaped mouth. His body was solid and he was sexy. Still, I didn't feel that fluttering nervousness in my belly that meant I was falling in love.

"I'm always up for a good time," I told him.

But now, sitting across from him in a back booth at Junior's, watching that mouth move as he talked, I felt a series of small tremors in my gut. I recognized the beginnings of that special bellyache that meant Cupid had lodged one of his bothersome, feathered shafts deep inside me. I wanted to just lean over and kiss Vinny's rich lips but I forced myself to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Roger and I are going to this Harley dealership in New Jersey," he told me. "We have a connection there that can get us the best price on new Harley road bikes."

I felt my temperature rising, my throat going dry. I wondered if his girlfriend in New Jersey was the connection, maybe she owned the dealership, maybe she was rich AND she could ride a motorcycle. How could I compare?  I was a poor waitress, a totally obscure poet, who had never even learned to ride a bicycle.

'then Roger and I are gonna take a trip across county," Vinny continued, "Yeah, I'll be Captain America and Roger will be Billy like in Easy Rider."

We had gone to see the new movie a week ago. 

"No, No, not like in Easy Rider," I heard myself saying sharply. My voice was so loud and shrill that the couple at the table next to us looked over, but that didn't stop me. "Not like in Easy Rider," I cried. "Remember how it ended!"

Vinny stopped smiling.

"When," he said, "Did you become my mother? I'm not going off to war, it's just a little vacation."

I took a big swallow of my water and tried to recoup my losses. I made myself smile up at him.

"You're right," I said, "I'm over- reacting. Maybe I'm having a sugar fit because of the cheesecake."

Vinny's face relaxed some but he still looked grim.

"Next time, I'll get you melba toast," he said.

I knew I was in big trouble. I didn't like competing with another woman for a man's attention but I didn't want to share. I decided to discuss my problem with Jackie and Claudette, two waitresses at work who were my special friends. Vinny was a well liked regular at Pete's. He knew Pete for years; they had gone to high school together in Bay Ridge. 

"Well, you couldn't find a nicer guy then Vinny to fall for," Jackie said. I was sitting with her and Claudette at the staff table before the beginning of our shift. "But I can see how, since you flipped for him, it's dangerous for you. Get someone else yourself, balance things out. Anyone else interested?? she asked.

"If so, I haven't noticed," I said sadly. "Vinny's on my mind all the time."

"You can always play with us," Jackie said.

"Please," I told her, "Don't scare me."

My two friends were lesbian lovers. They shared an apartment on Sullivan Street. Claudette had been working at Pete's for years.

"Vinny never had one steady girlfriend," she said. "He's not the committing type. You got two choices. If you can't handle it, tell him and get out clean, or grow a little. Self-mastery is the key. Work with your own head.


'. . .We'll
show you our
sex toys. . .'


Don't think about her. Think about your time with him. Enjoy it but remember, he doesn't owe you. He never agreed to be your ball and chain."

Her hand went below the table in the direction of Jackie's crotch. Claudette and Jackie had been married by their guru, Swami Swarmarama.

"And," Claudette went on, grinning, "On the nights, he's with the other woman, you can come and visit us, we'll show you our sex toys."

'thanks, " I said, pretending sarcasm, but I knew she was on the money.

"You have the right idea, I will overcome." I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "He's a great guy and??

Jackie cut in: "And I bet he's got a blue ribbon cock that doesn't stop.

"Affirmative," I answered.

That weekend, Claudette and Jackie took me shopping.

"Nothing like new clothes to give a girl a new perspective," Claudette said.

In Trash and Vaudeville, I got a long black, leather coat that fit me beautifully and made me feel sultry and mysterious like Mata Hari. Then, Monday I was leaving work in my new coat when I ran into Vinny out on the street.   He thought my new coat was divine.

"When I get my motorcycle, I'll give you a ride in that coat. You can sit behind me, hike the coat up and wrap it around my legs."

"I'd rather wrap my legs around your legs," I told him.

"Nice idea," he said. We made a date for Saturday night. He invited me over to his place for a spaghetti dinner..

"Be sure to wear that coat," he told me, "and take a taxi over."

He pulled a thick roll of bills out of his pocket and peeled off a twenty. He rolled his eyes as he handed it to me.

"I'll be too busy cooking to pick you up," he said. 

That Wednesday was Vietnam Moratorium day. Everyone at Pete's wanted to go to the demonstration so Pete closed the business. Arm in arm with Jackie and Claudette, I marched up Fifth Avenue. The parade marshals moved among the crowd, leading chants with their megaphones, Make love, not war and  Two, four, six, eight, don't escalate!  My throat ached from shouting so much.

We were approaching a deli on the corner of 23rd St.

"I'm going to run in there and get cough drops," I told Jackie and Claudette, "I'll catch up."

I dashed onto the curb and into the store, fumbling in my coat pocket for change.  I looked up and there was Vinny standing right in front of me. He was not alone. His companion was a tall, pretty woman with a long, blonde ponytail and fair complexion. He was holding two coffee cups; she had a Mars Bar in her hand. As she gazed at me she took a step backward and her face became even paler. It was obvious she knew about me.  I felt cornered and I wondered if she felt the same way.

"Hi," said Vinny, 'this is Leslie."

She and I nodded at each other. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything.

"Well, bye," Vinny said.

"Bye," said Leslie and gave me a weak smile.

"Bye," I said but I did not even try to smile back. I brought my cough drops and ran out back out onto Fifth Avenue. I felt like a mule had kicked me in the head. Mercifully, Vinny and Leslie were nowhere in sight. 

I caught up with Claudette and Jackie two block up.

"It was bound to happen sometime," said Claudette when I told them about meeting Vinny and Leslie.

"At least  you kept your cool," said Jackie.

"Right," I said ruefully and fell in step again between my two friends. I forced myself to join in the chants, "No more Napalm, drop food not bombs, I yelled, but my heart was no longer in it. 

At home, later, everywhere I looked I saw Leslie's lovely face. When I closed my eyes, it was even worse, then I saw her naked on a bed with Vinny on top of her, pounding away. Her long, alabaster legs went up, up, up and locked around his neck like a garland. I had to get the vodka bottle out of the refrigerator and drink myself to sleep.  

The next morning I woke up still thinking about Leslie's body, I tried to picture her pubic thatch. I wondered if her vulva was decorated with a few silky threads or if it was a thick curly rug like mine. I knew if I kept on thinking like this I could get locked up with the mad like Artaud. I decided to immerse myself in preparations for my date with Vinny.

I went up to Bloomingdale's and spent a night's tips on a black lace bra, matching bikini panties from Paris and a pair of red silk fishnet stockings. I already had black four-inch spike heel shoes and a hot black garter belt. It had little red bows on top of each garter.  

On Saturday evening, after I put on my outfit, I looked at myself in my full-length mirror. I looked like Natalie Wood all ready for a special date with Hugh Hefner. I got into the leather coat and went out the door.

Vinny lived out in Bay Ridge in a basement apartment a few blocks from his family home. I was getting out of the taxi when Vinny came out to meet me. 

"I was watching for you," he said, "I didn't want you to get lost."

The apartment door opened into the kitchen. A pot was simmering on the stove, filling the room with a delicious aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

"Don't take your coat off yet," he said,  "I want to drink wine with you sitting across from me, wearing that coat."

"I don't know," I told him, "a girl could get awfully hot."

Vinny reassured me. "If it gets too hot, I'll open your windows," he said.

There was an uncorked bottle of Chianti and two glasses ready on the table. He filled them, handed me mine, then sat down opposite me, He was wearing navy pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. He was barefoot and he stroked my leg with his toes. He raised his glass to me.

'to what's under that coat, he said.

We drank. The strong, heady wine, went right to my heart, making me feel wild and bold.

'to what's in your pants," I said, raising my glass. Then I gulped the contents down and stood up. "I brought the dessert," I said, "And I want to show it to you right now." I took off my coat and let it fall to the floor. Vinny was silent, slowly he looked me up and down.

"You're something else," he said. "You're a miracle worker. See, I'm already hard."

He put a hand into his pants and pulled it out. His beautiful cock stood right up like the branch of a tree. He started to stroke himself as I strutted my stuff; I shook and shimmied all around the table. Then I put a hand inside my brasserie and pulled out one fat fleshy tit. I waved it at him. I walked up between his legs and rubbed my pretty brown nipple over his lips. His mouth opened right up and he started to suck.  He seized my hand and put it right where his hand had been. I loved the feel of his girth in my hand. I stoked and pulled as he sucked.  I was so wet that the tiny crotch of my bikini panties was dripping and my love juices were cascading down the inside of my thigh, staining his pants but he didn't seem to mind. The sauce simmered on the stove as the room swirled around us. I nuzzled his shoulder, admired the thick, curly black hair growing down the


'. . .pulled
my panties
down to my ankles. . .'


nape of his neck, the cute tuft of dark hair in his ear, the way his eyebrows grew together over his Roman nose. I imagined we were in a forest glen. He was a satyr with cloven hooves, and I was a shepherd girl, seated between his massive thighs, caressing his giant hairy phallus. Then I looked down at my hand curled around him. I took in my trembling legs, the red bows on my garters and then I was myself again, a besotted girl in her soaking underwear who wanted Vinny's giant phallus inside her so much. Then I felt the heavy cream of a few drops of pre cum on my fingertips. I wondered if he was going to shoot before he even got it in me, but then he stopped sucking at my tit. He put his hand on my elbows and raised me, stood me up.

"O.k," he said, "o.k."

He stood up too, walked over to the stove and turned off the flame'then he came back to me, put a hand out and pulled my panties down to my ankles.

'step out of these things," he said, "You're driving me crazy."

I did what he said. Then he kicked off his own pants.

"Now," he told me, "I want you to lean over the table and spread your ass cheeks for me.  I want to look at your pretty little flower."

I had a sudden anticipation of what was to come, and despite the heat in the room, I shivered. Still, I complied.  I had only done this once before, with George Sokoloff, whose skinny cock was not much thicker than a hot dog and nowhere as long. How was Vinny going to fit his giant thing inside my little back hole? He would tear me in two.

I need not have worried. There was a bottle of olive oil on the kitchen counter. Gently Vinny oiled me up with one hand, working slow, caressing my butt hole with sure fingers, probing slowly, opening me. His other hand traveled around my hips, traced down to my soaking cleft, entered my cunt to tickle my clit. Then his fingers left my back hole, and I felt his tongue at the bottom of my spine moving south. It entered my crack, he watered my little opening bud with that wet tongue, going round and round. making me even wilder with desire. I found myself lifting my ass to him, pushing it up to meet his mouth. His weight shifted and I felt his big club against my side. Despite myself, my body stiffened. Vinny stopped tonguing me.

"Easy, easy now," he said, then I felt a momentary sharp stab and he was in.

'there, there," said Vinny, "you like it, I know you like it."

He was right. We bucked and rocked so hard that when we came at exactly the same moment, I thought the table would break. It did not. He lay on top of me, still plugging my ass, it seemed for centuries. 

Finally, Vinny said, "Are you hungry yet, or should we go out and run around the block a few times??

Vinny dished up the spaghetti and we ate.  I was happily mopping up the last of my sauce with crusty bread when Vinny started to speak. He told me he and Roger had gone to New Jersey that morning and signed the papers for their motorcycles. They were going to pick them up Monday and then leave town the next weekend. A cold, invisible knife slid right into the center of my belly, pinning me to my seat, paralyzing me. I didn't want him to go away. I wanted to stay in his kitchen and eat spaghetti with him forever.

"It's still warm, we'll have good weather, Vinny went on, "Our plan is to take Route 66 through Texas, then we re going down to Mexico. Roger has friends in Mexico City."

I felt that knife twisting deeper into my body, entering my intestine, my bowel. The pain was unbearable but somehow I managed not to scream. How could he leave me when we were getting so close? I struggled for control. I would take the higher road. I'll give him a great send-off, maybe I could even get us some magic mushrooms. 

"Listen, " I heard myself saying in a scared little voice that I didn't want to believe was mine. "Why don't you come over to my place next Friday night before you go, I want to cook you some of that Portuguese bouillabaisse I learned to make when I lived in Provincetown."

Vinny's face colored. He looked down at his empty plate.

"I can't, baby, " he said. 'time is tight."

An uncontrollable wave of fury washed over me. I wondered how much time he was going to spend "looking " at Leslie's little flower before he left.

" I got it," I said, "It's only fair," I said bitterly, "You have to give us equal time.  "You? re such a fair minded guy."

Vinny stood up, grabbed our plates and threw them into the sink.

"Why did you have to spoil a good time. I told you at the start what was going on. Now, what do you want me to do, propose to you??      

"Yes, yes, that's right," I screamed, self-mastery obviously not my thing.

He couldn't look at me. He turned, ran through the living room into the bedroom, slamming the door.  I finished the last of the wine. I wished there was more. I wanted to be with him so much; at the same time I never wanted to see him again. 

Vinny came out of the bedroom, all dressed.

"Put your things on,? he said. "I'm taking you home.

We rode through the Brooklyn night to my place, neither of us saying a word. When we pulled up in front of my door, Vinny said, "I'll call you before I leave, maybe we can find some time."

He didn't sound like he meant it.

"Great dinner," I said. I didn't mean it. He kissed me briefly on the cheek, then he leaned over and opened my door. I had to take it slow going up the stairs, the tops of my legs ached and my ass was sore.

I didn't see Vinny before he left, but he did call.

"I won't have time to see you," told me, "but I'll send you a postcard."

"I just love postcards," I replied, fighting back the tears."

For a while, I was constantly blaming myself, thinking if only I hadn't said what I said, if only I could have stayed cool. When I told Jackie and Claudette what happened, Jackie told me to forgive myself.

'so you're human, you fell in love," she said.

Claudette chimed in, "After all, this was a set- up from the start. You think Leslie wasn't feeling pressure too??

I remembered Leslie's stricken face on the day we met. I thought about how Vinny played us. Somewhere I had read women wanted intimacy and men just wanted sex, but I didn't? know if this was true. Maybe it depends on the situation, maybe Vinny was selfish, maybe I was selfish, maybe the world was selfish, maybe there really was a lost continent of Atlantis, maybe the moon was blue.

I didn't get a postcard. I had trouble sleeping at night. Sometimes I'd lay awake blaming Vinny, or I would blame myself.  Other times I would think there was no blame because desire turns us all into fools. I?d finger myself over and over again, imagining Vinny's robust cock moving in and out of me. I always got off but I didn't know if I ever wanted him between my legs again.  Sometimes I did want to see him, talk to him but then, what would I say? 

* * *  

There is a postscript to this story. I was never to see Vinny again. Six weeks passed and no one had heard from him. Pete phoned his mother. She told him Vinny was dead. He and Roger had been shot and killed in a drug deal in Mexico.  ##  


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