The Hinky Bearskin Rug Read Online Free PDF Page B

Roosevelt Road empty, Lake
Shore Drive empty and bleached white by road salt. The breeze picked up and
blew cold salt into her eyes until they watered.
    The door
opened behind her. Gratefully, she went in.
    Somehow she
was on the second floor mezzanine, looking at the Malvina Hoffman bronzes of
primitive man, as they called him back in the thirties, from around the world.
The bronzes were her favorites, all rich red-brown and naked, every one seeming
at peace in a world that made sense to them.
    She reached
out and rubbed the shiny bronze nose of a Podaung Burmese woman, proud in her
rings and rings of necklaces, her eyes downcast as if saying, See how much it’ll cost you to marry me?
    One gallery
was lit.
    She wanted to
keep walking around the second floor, visiting her old friends the Hoffman
bronzes, but the light pulled her.
    She walked
under a marble arch and was instantly in warmth and light, in a long gallery
she’d visited before, with glass cases in a rick-rack pattern that made nooks.
    In the first
nook, behind glass, Liddy stood, his old tweed jacket slung over his wrinkly
birthday suit. His lawyer-briefcase hung from his hand, one shoulder lifted
higher than the other like always, and he smiled that old sweet smile that
said, Wanna make trouble?
    Her heart
caught. Her belly went cold. Her eyes met his. She saw that he was twinkling at
her.
    He was alive
in there.
    Her chest
tightened. She backed away. For a flashing instant she dreamed she was running
down the cavernous dark halls, screaming for a guard. Didn’t you know he’s still alive?
    But she didn’t
run.
    Feeling
horrible but unable to face Liddy any longer, she moved to another nook. Here
was a guy she’d dated in college. Smart-mouthed grad student from her dorm
who’d thought that women got turned on if you insulted them. He stood naked in
his glass case, prouder of his erection than he should have been.
    She walked
past.
    The next case
held another naked guy from college, a face only faintly familiar. His lips
shaped her name.
    Alive in there.
    In the next,
the pledging class from the Phi Kap house posed like so many statues of horny
bare-assed Greek athletes. They grinned at her. Behind them stood cheerleaders
all in a row, naked except for their pom-poms, giggling and shoving.
    Oh,
yeah, the cheerleaders. Lot of punch at that party.
    The itch
between her legs was turning hot and hard.
    She walked
faster.
    Every case
held somebody she’d dated.
    There were
dozens of them.
    They were all
alive.
    This gallery
had to end sometime. She knew it did. For one thing, she’d quit dating last
year and spent six months in celibate hell. So this had to end somewhere.
    She broke into
a trot.
    There, an
opening at the end of this row. She ran toward it and found herself at the
bottom of another long gallery just like the other one, full of glass cases
full of naked men. They were all alive. They all looked at her. Beckoned to
her. Showed her their rampant dicks. Some were crying. Some threw themselves
against the glass and slobbered on it, beating it with their fists, yelling her
name.
    She picked up
her feet and sprinted.
    She burst out
of the exhibit onto the mezzanine and bolted for the stairs. There was a
uniformed guard at the corner of the stairs, well, finally, and he turned
reproachful eyes on her.
    Not a guard. A
Chicago cop. One of maybe forty she’d dated.
    As he reached
for her she jinked past his outstretched arms, skidded, and leaped down the
stairs two at a time, past marble statues that came to life as she passed.
    Sobbing for
air, she vaulted the turnstyle and escaped into the freezing evening air on the
front steps. The lake spread out before her, frozen, flat, and still. A full
moon rose, splashing orange light over the ice. Untouched snow lay on the
steps. Orange moonlight seemed to skip over the snow.
    Someone stood
on the verandah with her, half in the moonshadow of a big pillar, naked and
shivering. His back was to her. He was