TC-465 Sookey

Excerpt

This house I’ve rented in Cherry Grove suits me perfectly. It hardly overlooks anything and it has no name. Perhaps its having no name persuaded me to take it, or perhaps it was the luxurious and piquant idea of renting a hide-away in the middle of the most famous homosexual resort in the world. Cherry Grove in the middle of the summer, even this overcast and sultry season, is a haven of beautifully suntanned flesh (with unfortunate exceptions), of dances, laughs, liquor, and plentiful sex. It’s everywhere. It permeates the wood of the boardwalks, this smell of sexual abandon. And frankly, after leaving New York and the horrible row there, I want to smother myself here in pleasure.

I’m here to work. I’ve almost finished the novel, and I’ll deliver it to the gang in a couple of days. I’ll go in myself and collect the check rather than mail it from here, because with the money I’ll pay bills and take perhaps a week for myself and complete selfindulgence. Just recently I met a marvellous little mid-western somebody with a whiskey voice and pale eyes, whose pleasure in my body, in what I do in bed, sets new limits for my endurance. How that boy can fuck! I adore him. Or his ass. But he’s a Libra, and there’s no point expecting anything much to materialize out of our “relationship,” such as it is, passionate as it is. I’m sure he enjoys himself wherever he goes, with any man who takes him. I can’t blame him. I don’t blame them. I left my blue stockings in Manhattan.And so here I am. Rather perverse of me taking this house and then working here a week without taking more than superficial advantage of the fruits of the land. “Work!” I tell myself. “Money fucks!” And that’s true too. Also, I find I’m attracted by sight, yes, but only turned on by touch, only deeply aroused by talk, conversation. In other words, I shop, but don’t always buy.