Authors: Richard Matheson
“He’s a public relations man,” Erick said.
“Uh-
huh,” Leo said.
“Go on!” summoned Lynn, “Sail on and on!”
“No.”
“I insist,” Lynn said grandiloquently, “Tell about the eyes.”
Erick sighed. What did it matter anyway? If he didn’t go on the conversation would somehow work itself back to he and Leo spending the night there.
“On a higher level than the nose and on each side of this growth we find …”
“This
nasty
growth,” Lynn amended.
“Adjectives he remembers,” Erick said to no one, “All right, nasty growth. On each side of it we find the eyes. They have … uh …”
He forgot.
“They have what?” Lynn said.
“Rhythm.”
“No,” Lynn said.
“They have tiny hairs sticking out from their top lids which
whisk
up and down furiously thus keeping bits of flying matter from the blank eyes,” he went on quickly, the words flaring up on his mental screen, “These said eyes are often hidden by glass and steel or shell or plastic mechanical devices which distort the muscles more than they are already distorted by the beast’s own overindulgence.”
“That’s me,” Lynn said, “Distorting the muscles.”
“Oh the hell with it,” Erick said, ready to leave, wishing never to see either one of them again.
“One shall not leave this abode alive unless one completes his talk on Man as Animal.”
Silence. Another drink. Change of mood.
“Directly under the nose a slash is found. This opening leads to the mouth. Into this ugly cavity goes the food which sustains this creature. This self same food I might add …”
“Yes?” Lynn asked, mockingly eager, “Self same food?”
Erick sighed. “Emits from this entrance when …”
“Erick,” Leo said.
He laughed out loud. “Oh shoot,” he said and went on because he enjoyed the thought of shocking her.
“When the beast is inclined to his usual greed in eating. This is known in the culture as puking. Furthermore from this mouth comes the aforementioned phlegm …”
“My God, I’m going,” Leo said.
Good! Yelled his mind, go fast!
“Bits of alien matter unwanted by the system …”
“God
,” Leo said. Still on the couch.
“As well as a perfectly hideous variety of sounds which constitute the communicable capacities of this vile beast.”
“Communicable capacities,” Lynn said, scratching his testicles contentedly, “Toothsome.”
“The shape of this beast’s head is generally nauseating. It may be square. It may be egglike. It may further, be round.”
“I know, I know!” Lynn broke in, “It may even be flat if a trolley car runs over it.”
“Correct!” Erick said, feeling enthusiasm for a moment.
Leo laughed. “You two really are a pair.”
“You have a pair too,” Lynn said.
Erick glanced at her. She seemed undecided between smiling and frowning.
“How about spending the night here?”
“We’ll see,” Leo said casually and Erick was conscious of her warm body against him. He ran one hand over her stomach and felt her shudder and look at him with that heavy look again as though desire had just poured itself over her like a thick hot syrup.
“Man as Animal,” Lynn said, looking at Leo’s legs.
“No more,” Erick said.
“More,” Lynn said, “Or the madame will throw out the customers.”
Erick smiled thinly. He’s trying to disgust us, he thought. He’s sorry he started it. He rolled on his back again and looked at the ceiling. He felt his heart throb slowly and forcefully as Leo ran one hand endlessly over his chest, her fingers searching. He hoped Lynn was looking as Leo ran her hand lower and lower until she was pushing her fingers under his belt and pressing them into his stomach. He let a look of enjoyment cover his features and turned slightly toward Lynn so Lynn could see it. Then he went on talking, bemused as she started to pull the ends of his shirt out and, finally, stroked his bare chest and stomach with warm, feeling fingers.
“The indefinite outlines of this skull,” Erick said, “Are an indication of vacillation in the animal’s very structure. Not to mention its mental functions.”
He felt like two separate persons. One who was talking calmly and whimsically about some juvenile concept. The other lying there and feeling liquid heat rising in his body as a passionate woman caressed his flesh. It was a wonderful confusion.
“A connecting structure joins the trunk to the head of the animal,” he continued, “Prouder than the giraffe, it has more than seven bones in its neck. And around said neck hangs many a chain with a tiny replica of murder rite.”
“True,” Lynn said, eyes closed, his head leaned back against the wall, “Fitting and true.” He wants to get my attention, Erick thought, he’s starting to regret it now.
“The neck blends with the …”
He shuddered as a ripple of excitement ran down his stomach muscles to his groin. Leo immediately dug in her fingers at that point as if she had been searching for it. Erick didn’t have to look at her to know she was excited and too drunk to care about Lynn being there.
His voice was thicker.
“The neck blends into the horizontal bony structure which tends to bend inward after a period of inactivity. The trunk varies from a columnlike structure to various degrees of curvature which indicate the … the physical well-being of the creature.”
Leo kept caressing. I wish she’d go down further. He almost asked her. He didn’t care what she did to him. He kept talking. Somehow it made the physical sensation more exciting to keep talking as if nothing were happening to him, working both body and mind at top peak.
“On each shoulder end hang long outlandish flesh and bone structures called the arms. These end in two extremities each of which has five claws of various thickness and length which flex and bend in their fashion.
“These have nails on them under which dirt is stored.”
He forgot where he was for a moment. He was drifting into a hot jelly night with her hand stroking him, his voice going on and on without effort, Lynn against the wall, half unconscious, his slender body slumped down, hands inert at his sides like whitish lumps of flesh and bone. Music coming from the record player: Ravel’s
Waltzes, Noble and Sentimental
. And the entire scene moving toward something, toward a climax, a violent resolution and none of them making the slightest effort to stop it from doing so.
“These self same nails are often used by the female of the species to scratch their opponents. Or to caress them …” he added. Lynn’s heavy breathing went on under the music. Erick looked at Leo, then suddenly leaned over and kissed her ear and blew into it. She shuddered and pushed her hand far down under his belt, making him lurch a little on the couch.
“Man as an animal,” Lynn mumbled, “Go ahead.” He knows, he
knows
. Erick felt exultant.
“On the chest of the male and female are discovered the mammaries,” he said, “In the case of the male these have atrophied through lack of use. In the female however,” he went on strongly, wanting her to hear every word, “In the female these structures have flowered outwards.”
“Like Marie,” Lynn said.
“Generally they sag down so that mechanical devices are necessary to keep them from sending the rest of the pack into hysteric outbursts …”
“Mine?” Leo asked heavily. He put his hand on one and closed his fingers over the softness. “No, ma’am,” he murmured huskily.
“Go ‘head!” Lynn said irritably, “Who’s sleeping?”
“These fleshly baubles are used to feed the young of the species,” Erick said, “However, oddly enough, they have established what amounts to a cult in the minds of the male animals. The very simplicity of their prognathous structure has been known, and I do not exaggerate, actually been known to drive the males insane. At this juncture of madness and lust he often attacks the female and attempts to cohabit with her forcibly. For this, the unhappy male is usually put away by the rest of the herd.”
He felt Leo shaking a little and looking over he saw that she was laughing quietly. Her hand lay motionless on his bare stomach.
“So vital indeed is this flesh that the female tribe members lacking this possession,” he told her, “Have been known to acquire artificial devices which serve to imitate the very thing they lack. These devices which serve to imitate the very thing they lack. These devices worn on the spot often deceive the male of the species. But not permanently. And when he finds out, he usually dies a little.”
Leo took his hand and put it over her right breast. She closed his fingers over it.
“Mine?” she asked again. He swallowed. Suddenly he wished Lynn was out of the room. And began to sense a rising fear of what would happen if Lynn did go out of the room.
“Below this,” he went on quietly, not even knowing why he went on now but feeling that something had to be said to avoid silence, “Below this we find the stomach and …” he shuddered as she started her stroking again. “And the reproductive organs which are …”
“Here?” Leo asked, tensely, excitedly. His eyes closed and breath tore from his throat. He didn’t care if Lynn or the whole world saw her doing it. “Which are used in much the same fashion as most animals use them,” he said fiercely.
“Oh,
yes,”
Leo whispered in his ear. She was completely gone now, he knew. She was ready. It was only a matter of place now.
He skipped a part of the speech. “I will wind up the speech by saying this,” he said, “The abounding idiocy of this animal tribe is the custom of dressing.”
“I agree,” she whispered, “Let’s strip.” Lynn was still.
“The fallacious minds of these beasts have inculcated insane mores which require the clothing of their frames for reasons moral. Where they evolved this moral structure is something lost in the fogs of history.”
His mind kept working. He wanted to drag out the pleasure.
“That it is so at all is manifestly amusing.
“The most hilarious aspect of this mad system is that the sole aim of the male concerning the female is to remove these outer wrappings so that he may view and utilize the unclad limbs.
“This absurd contradiction forms one of the most serious drawbacks to the well-being of the animal.”
He knew Lynn had opened his eyes and was looking at them. His throat moved. Her hand was still down there. He felt himself drawing in.
“For, torn between h-his clothing and his desire for nakedness,” he said, “The animal often loses all sense of reason and goes berserk.”
Lynn pushed up and stumbled into the bedroom. Leo pressed against Erick. Lynn came in again with a white robe. He tossed it on top of them. Erick saw that it was Marie’s.
“Here Leo,” he said, “Get comfortable.”
“Oh, good,” Leo said, without any hesitation. She sat up quickly. “Excuse me,” she said and immediately got up and went into the bathroom with the robe.
Erick got up and stood looking at Lynn. He noticed how dizzy Lynn was. Lynn nodded once and smirked. Then, abruptly, he walked by Erick and tumbled down on the couch, his head snapping back heavily on the arm. He lay there immobile and slumped.
Erick stood on the rug staring down at Lynn. Well, it’s worked, it’s about to happen, he told himself.
Wild excitement poured all reserves through his blood. He shivered continuously. He couldn’t get rid of the lump in his throat. His fingers felt numb at the ends. He couldn’t quite believe it was true that it was about to happen. It seemed too ordinary all of a sudden. So sudden and easily effected he thought, forgetting the tortuous by-play that had to be effected before it happened. That’s it, he thought, a bed, a girl, voila! He shook nervously.
And when he heard her unlocking the bathroom door he almost ran. He looked anxiously at Lynn. But Lynn was asleep. Or pretending to be asleep.
She came in wearing the robe, carrying her clothes. He saw her skirt and blouse, her blue girdle and her dark brassiere and pants. She put them all down on the armchair and looked over at Lynn with unconvincing curiosity.
“What happened to him?” she asked lightly. And suddenly he wanted to shout—You know damn well what happened to him! He’s on the couch and now we go into the bedroom. No! cried a part of him he couldn’t identify.
“He conked out,” Erick said nervously.
“Guess we don’t sleep on the couch,” she said. She seemed very calm. She pushed against him and he felt her soft nude body under the robe.
“Come to bed,” she muttered and grabbed his hand.
She led him into the bedroom. She closed the door authoritatively. Almost in a daze, Erick took off his shirt and pants. Then he was standing naked in the darkness. He heard her drawing back the covers briskly and then he saw her standing in a patch of light from a street light. She seemed to pose there wanting him to see her.
Slowly, she let the robe slide from her shoulders and fall with a whispering of cloth to the parquet floor. He saw her standing there naked with dark shadows covering her body. His heart hammered insanely, his legs shook. She put one knee on the bed.
“Come to me, baby,” she said in a low-pitched voice and put her arms out.
* * * *
He rolled onto his back in the darkness, breathing heavily. She was very silent suddenly. The wildness of her, the crazy, biting, clutching thing she had been a moment before, disappeared. She was like a dead woman there, staring up, large-eyed, at the ceiling. She turned her head away from him and he heard her hair rustling on the pillow case.
He sensed what she felt; betrayal. He was the conquering lover and she had been an easy conquest. He had seen, conquered. She wasn’t going to sleep. He knew it. Somehow he knew she was staring at the ceiling even though he couldn’t see her eyes.
He didn’t know what to say. He lay there, almost holding his breath, hoping she would speak, hoping she would relax and slide her arms around him once more. He felt cold and alone. He said, almost timidly,
“Thank you, my darling.” It sounded ridiculous.
“Don’t call me that,” she said.
Her voice was cold, distant. But there was hurt in it too. He felt the hurt in it. He took a deep breath and lay there in silence, staring at the dark ceiling with her. Done, done, he thought, hic jacet. He had known it would be like that, he had always known it. Why was he such a fool? He had always had this terribly unrelieving premonition and yet, when the time came, he had ignored it. There was no love, no sensual bliss, no sense of relaxing affection. He was tight and there was no enchantment.