BASEMENT by Mark Rogers

Author:Mark Rogers [Rogers, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tar House Books
Published: 2016-05-23T04:00:00+00:00

Deena sat in her backyard patio, hugging her shoulders to keep warm. There was the faintest chill in the air as the late afternoon sun dipped below the house line. Glancing toward Rose’s kitchen window, she realized she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her neighbor all day. It was almost as though Rose had forgotten how to play the game.

Deena’s cell phone blurted the chorus to “She Works Hard for The Money.” She picked it up to hear Donny’s voice: “You wouldn’t believe it—Detroit’s shittier than Newark.”

Deena glanced at Rose’s window. “How was the flight?”

“They gave me pork loin that tasted like it came out of a can. Listen, gotta go. See you in three days.”

Deena stood up, shivering, and walked back into the house. She and Donny had made love last night, although with Donny it never amounted to much. He was a real mood-spoiler. Last night it was, “I work hard all day. Do I got to work in bed, too?” The act usually achieved just enough friction and rubbing to get her interested and then—nothing. Donny would wipe off on the sheet, roll over and be fast asleep in two minutes. Deena had gotten pretty efficient at silently finishing herself off while Donny snoozed. Last night, working away with her hand, she’d considered looking for an affair, although she feared jeopardizing the status quo. There were other ways to play at sex. She enjoyed shopping at the supermarket, standing too close to the young clerks as they stocked the shelves. She’d linger long enough to raise their temperatures and then move on. She made a point of always working her magic on befuddled teenagers. She’d tried it a few times with grown men and had gotten openly propositioned—one rough-looking guy even followed her out to the parking lot. That wouldn’t do. Only a fool gave Greenburg something to talk about.

Deena got a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and walked into the living room. She’d never drink out of the bottle in front of Donny—he’d think it was low class. Punching the remote she got Dr. Phil on the tube. He was drawling on in that aggressive way of his, browbeating some poor guy about “intimacy.” It didn’t make any sense to Deena. Who the hell wants to be intimate? All you hear on these shows is intimate this and intimate that. Deena grimaced. The very idea made her skin crawl.

Deena kicked off her shoes and slid her skirt down. It felt good, still light out and cruising her house in blouse and panties. Deena glanced at Dr. Phil—a vision of colored crystals as the last rays of sunlight bounced off the picture tube. Dr. Phil looked like the solid type, too solid to get down between a woman’s knees and get to work with his tongue. It looked like he could use a few lessons. Deena hit the mute on the remote and stuck her crotch up against Dr. Phil’s face. He looked silly, his mouth working silently against her pussy.

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