The Homeless Millionaire

It was Tracy. Who else?

I wanted to reach out and grab her by the neck and kiss her. But of course I didn't. I got all civilized and courteous, inviting her inside, asking about her well-being, her mood, her health, and whether she'd like something to drink or eat.

She wanted a drink. Luckily, there was almost a full bottle of white wine left over, and I'd put it in the fridge. I poured her a glass and put a dish of plums in front of her. Michel and Roch had brought those plums but we'd hardly touched them; we had been too busy pouring booze down our throats.

I made a coffee for myself; she didn't want any. She knocked back her wine in record time. I wanted to pour her another but she asked if I had a beer. Sure, I had beer, I had everything she needed, and if not I was ready to run ten miles barefoot to get it for her.

I was also ready to fuck her right there and then, so ready that it required a major effort for me to stay in my seat and sip coffee and throw encouraging, smiling glances at her. She didn't respond. She drank her beer and lit a cigarette before I managed to offer her a light. So I lit a cigarette myself, and for quite a while we just sat silent at the kitchen table, smoking and drinking. I tried to think of something good to say, good meaning something that would lead us into bed. I wanted to fuck her so badly I could feel myself going stupid. Eventually she said:

"I'm sorry I've made you go to all this trouble. I mean waking you up and everything. Things got to a head and I just couldn't stay there any longer. He agreed, and gave me a lift. Had I stayed there any longer, by morning one of us would have been dead. Or something."

She fell silent after that and I stayed silent too, because when she talked about that guy, that fucking 'uncle', I wanted to slit throats and jump up and down on the corpses. She caught wind of that. She looked at me, and smiled at me in a way that implied secret knowledge. She said:

"You're sweet for taking me in. I'm really grateful. I had no place to go."

So I was sweet: that was great. I was sweet because she had nowhere else to go, which wasn't so great. I wanted to say something witty and insightful. Instead, I said:

"I've prepared a room for you. Clean sheets and everything. If you need anything, just tell me. Even if it's the middle of the night. You can wake me up, it's okay."

She laughed, and it was a real laugh, not one of those fakes people use to bridge an awkward pause. She looked at me and there was real warmth in her eyes. She said:

"You're so nice to me. It's really a long time since someone was just plain nice to me. Every time people are nice to me, it's because they want something."

I could relate to that in more ways than one. I said:

"Well, I want you. I guess you're not a thing, you're a person. Does that make it okay?"

It was the wrong thing to say. She didn't answer me for a long time. She smoked and drank her beer and looked at the table in a way that told me she preferred tables to other people just then. I finished my beer very quickly just to have an excuse to ask her if she wanted another one, too. She said okay and drank it really quickly, I managed to take maybe three sips of mine while she finished her bottle. Feeling as if I were working again in a fucking bar, I said:

"You want another beer?"

"No, thanks. I'd like to sleep a little. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. There's a bed all ready for you. Let me show you to your room." I sprang to my feet, hoping that my hard-on didn't show. I wanted to fuck her until she fainted. But I said:

"Come on, Tracy. You need to rest. So do I, really. Hey, it's nearly four in the morning. It's time to sleep, as recommended by all doctors."

She grinned at me. She said:

"You're going to be my doctor?"

I almost came in my pants when she said that. I said:

"Yeah, maybe. If you can afford the fee."

That made her laugh, and it was a sincere, throaty laugh. I didn't understand its significance until much later. She said:

"I can afford a lot. You'd be surprised to find out how much I can afford."

Then she yawned, cancelling all the promise I'd heard.

"Show me the way to my bed," she said, and I escorted her to the door of her bedroom and grinned and wished her good night without touching her once. Then I went to my room and tried to sleep. I was totally unsuccessful for a long, long time.

When I woke up, it was nearly noon. Tracy's presence in the house made me creep around like a fucking commando. It seemed she was still asleep, and I showered and then took a long time brushing my teeth, just in case we'd finally get to kiss. I shaved, and put on aftershave. I did my best to completely erase the scowl from my face, but it lingered in the corners of my mouth and eyes.

I made and ate breakfast as slowly as possible. She went on sleeping. I cleaned up after my breakfast and set a place for her at the table and even polished the fucking cutlery with a dishcloth. She was still asleep. I drank a beer very slowly and smoked a cigarette very slowly and then tiptoed down the hall and put my ear to her door. After a while, I made out a faint, rhythmic sound. She was snoring.

Tracy didn't get up and make an appearance until well into the afternoon. By that time, I was wearing fresh underwear and chain-smoking cigarettes out on the deck and hoping she'd just magically disappear. I wanted to do something, even if all by myself: go for a long walk, try and draw or paint a picture, whatever. But I felt compelled to wait on her as long as she was present.

She came out on the deck wearing a T–shirt that ended just below the crotch. The T-shirt was white, but had a STOP traffic sign printed in red on the front. I abandoned any thought of having sex with her. I became very polite and asked about her sleep and then led her to the kitchen and served her breakfast. I danced around her like a fucking waiter.

She ate everything I prepared, and asked for more: it seemed that she was really hungry. When she was done, I cleared the table and poured her a fresh coffee and began washing up in the kitchen sink. This whole perfect host business was starting to get on my nerves.

I was almost done when I heard her get up from the table. She came up to me from behind and leaned forward and whispered into my ear:

"Thank you."

Then she put her hands on my ass. She held them there while I rinsed off the last plate and the suds from my hands and wiped my hands dry on the dishcloth. Then I turned around and we started kissing.

She tasted of coffee and there was egg on her breath. I didn't mind. I pressed her to my crotch and for a moment I thought I'd gone too far too fast, because she pulled away. But then she grinned and grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom.

I went insane in there. We kept on fucking until we were wet with sweat and too sore to continue. I came three times, and she came at least once. At least, because I thought she faked it a couple of times.

When it was over, we didn't speak. We lay in her narrow bed clutching each other, and I felt so happy I felt as if I were floating, up in the air, completely weightless.

While I was busy falling in love, she fell asleep. I moved my arm from under her head, and it didn't wake her up. I had the thought that she might be faking again, and that she just wanted me gone.

So I went. Her bed was too narrow for us to sleep together comfortably, anyway. I thought I'd have a terrible time falling asleep on my own, but I was wrong.

I was out the moment I closed my eyes.