Candy by Lawrence Block

Author:Lawrence Block [Block, Lawrence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, Fiction
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 1960-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I’D HAVE FELT a lot better about the whole thing if she hadn’t been such a damnably attractive woman.

Black toreador pants were tight on her slender legs and tighter still on her hips and tail. She had the right type of figure to be wearing them as well as the right sexual outlook on life and they looked fine.

She also had the right build, or lack of it, to be wearing a man’s shirt. This particular man’s shirt would have been out of place on any man unless he was as queer as she was. It was pale green and it was tucked neatly into the pants which were secured by a yellow alligator belt. How the devil they got that belt will ever remain a mystery to me. When did you last set eyes on a yellow alligator?

The shirt had a button-down collar and I was willing to bet there was a button in the back as well. She came on real ivy league, even to the dirty tennis shoes on her little feet. Her eyes peered at me through severe black glasses. The eyes were a pale blue, the shade they call steel-blue. The look she was giving me was a steely one, too.

“Good afternoon, Miss—”

“Not Miss,” she said. “Mrs.”

That damn near floored me. I couldn’t picture the bloody dyke married to somebody. But you live and learn, so I said Mrs. and paused valiantly, waiting for her to come through with the last name.

She didn’t come through.

“Look,” she said, “whatever you’re selling, I strongly doubt that I want any.”

“I’m not selling anything.”

“Neither am I,” she said. “I’m neither selling nor buying, and if you’ll excuse me I’d like to shut the door. With you on the other side of it.”

I was beginning to get the idea that she didn’t like me.

“Hang on,” I said, “My name’s Flanders, Jeff Flanders. I’m a friend of Miss Cain.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I wanted to—”

“You’re not a friend of Miss Cain,” she said. “Not a friend at all. I don’t think she likes you.”

“I—”

“I don’t think she wants to see you any more.”

“I—”

“In fact,” she said, “I think I might tell you that I’d rather you didn’t see any more of Candy.”

I scratched my head. “Funny,” I said, hilariously, “but that’s what I came here to tell you.”

Her forehead squinched up and she didn’t know exactly how to react. The door opened wider and I entered the apartment; then she gave the door a shove and it closed. She waved me on inside and pointed a tired finger at a chair for me to sit in. Then she wandered over to another chair and plopped herself down into it.

On my way over to the chair I took a good look at the apartment, at least at the room I was in. This was what Candy had peddled herself to get and by the looks of things she hadn’t done badly. The room reeked of money. The carpet reached from one wall to the other wall and it was thick enough to get lost in.

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