Barbary Shore Read Online Free PDF

writer. I tell you when I think of all the real-life human dramas I’ve lived among”—her voice took on the shadings of a radio announcer—“and the experience I’ve had, for I’ve lived a full life although you wouldn’t know it to look at me, why I tell you I could make a fortune just putting it all down on paper.”
    The lack of contact between us was considerable. Her voicesad and reflective, she recited to an unknown audience. I coughed. “You ought to sit down and write.”
    “No, I couldn’t. I can’t concentrate.” Her hand played over the pile of sheets. “Today is linen day, and do you know I haven’t been able to do a thing. I just sat and looked at those linens until my husband came home, and he had to cook supper for me—oh, I had a horrible experience last night.”
    “What?”
    “It gives me the creeps to talk about it.”
    “Well, what was it?”
    She fingered her bosom, adjusting the brassiere to conceal a quarter inch more of the gorge between her breasts. “Well, you know I got the downstairs apartment, and we keep the windows open in this weather, and guess what happened? A cat got in and crawled over the bed around four A.M. , and I woke up and saw it looking me in the eye.” She sighed dolefully again. “It’s a wonder I didn’t wake the whole house with my screaming. My husband had to calm me for an hour. And this morning I opened the cupboard, and that same cat, a big black thing, jumped out at me, and scratched my face. Look!” She showed me a faint red line on her cheek.
    “It happened, and now it’s done,” I said.
    She blinked her eyes against the unshielded glare of the light, a single bulb which hung from a cord above the desk. “No, it isn’t.” Dramatically she whispered, “Do you know what that cat was? It was the Devil.”
    I didn’t know whether to laugh or not, and so I grinned doubtfully.
    “Yessir,” she went on, “you may not know it, but that’s one of the manifestations of the Devil’s spirit. A black cat. It’s in the Good Book that the Devil, the Lord’s disinherited brother, is a manifestation as a cat, a black cat. That’s why black cats are unlucky.”
    I wondered if this were a joke. Her words had tumbled out in a pious breathless voice which had little relation to the first picture I kept of her, hand on hip, jeering at Dinsmore, “All you writers are nuts.”
    “Well, how are you sure of this?” I asked.
    “Oh, it’s in my religion. I’m a Witness, you see. My husband and myself, we’re Witnesses. And the reason the Devil came is because he’s making a last attempt to catch me. You see I’ve got a lot more knowledge now, and the more you got the less chance
he
has to catch you. So he’s putting Temptation in my way.
    I could not help it. This time I smiled.
    “Oh, you don’t believe me, but if I were to tell you the kind of Temptation I’ve had this last week.” Here she gave a practical example. “Honestly, every time I’ve turned around, there’s been another man propositioning me.”
    Her plump hand darted into the space between her breasts and gave the brassiere a hefty tug. It began immediately to slide down, and I found it difficult not to stare.
    “If they propositioned you, they must have had some reason,” I suggested slyly.
    “What?” she cried raucously. “You don’t mean to tell me you characters need any help. You run after us like a bunch of hound dogs.”
    Sensing that the continuation was not meet to what she had been saying, her voice became sad again. “I don’t know,” she said, “the world is so full of sin. Nobody loves his neighbor any more. On Judgment Day, the Witnesses teach that Christ is coming back, and we’ll all have to stand up and be counted.”
    “Not many of us will pass.”
    “Exactly. That was what I was telling my husband. You know, you’re not a dumb fellow. I could tell from the first moment that you had brains.” As she blew out the smoke, she pursed her mouth, and I