The pressure from the back of his hand against her hair had startled her. She tried to be efficient, letting her mind wander. After he came, she wiped her mouth with a corner of the sheet. It was almost eleven o’clock.
When she came out of the shower, Hugh was dressed in his shirt and trousers, watching David Letterman.
“I thought you’d be sleeping,” she said.
“Ice cream,” he said. “You want ice cream?”
“Game,” she said, smiling. Ice cream sounded perfect.
“I will do an ice-cream run. Flavor?”
“Rum raisin.”
“I approve,” he said.
“Shall I go with you?”
“You stay.”
“But I should get back—” But her mind had altered somewhat after he’d told her about the offer. Could it be true? But why would Hugh lie? He was a playboy, but he’d never lied to her. She could work at Kearn Davis after graduation. Never worry about money again. It would take only a couple of years to pay off the school loans, then she could buy an apartment, help out her folks.
Hugh promised to return in fifteen minutes, tops.
Casey was still in a towel. Her suit jacket on the sofa was crumpled, as was the blouse. From Hugh’s closet, she pulled out a white dress shirt. She’d looked for an older one, something with a blown-out collar or frayed sleeves, but they were all in beautiful condition. She put it on. He had loads of them. His closet was immense, filled with very fine clothing, and above the closet rod, there was a deep shelf lined with cashmere sweaters. Near the sweaters, there was a cache of videos stacked neatly in three rows, and she laughed. “Oh, Hugh,” she said out loud.
She pulled out the first stack using both hands. She spread them out on the bed to read the titles. They seemed innocent enough, blond college coeds, husky men with mullets. More Playboy than Hustler. She looked over the other two stacks. One of the two dozen or so had an Asian woman on the cover—titled Pearl Necklace. Casey made a face. The two white men on the video box were unattractive, and the woman looked too old to be doing this kind of thing.
The television and videocassette recorder were set up right opposite the bed. Casey popped the video in the recorder. What would Hugh say if he found her watching his porn? He would laugh his head off.
In less than two minutes, the story became explicit: The Asian woman, who looked even less attractive in the film than on the touched-up video box, enters an office. She wears a red Adolfo-copy suit, long black hair with bangs, crimson lipstick, black patent-leather stilettos. Naturally, she wears a string of gumball-size pearls around her throat. The woman Pearl is the secretary for four men who work in an accounting firm. Two of the men head home after a long day. She stays behind at the request of the other two, Craig and Kip. Without much dialogue, she takes off her red suit, keeping on her black bustier, revealing the tops of her impressive breast implants, a wasplike waist, and short, thin legs in garters and black fishnet stockings. She leans one hand against the wall, leaving space on both sides for the men to sandwich her. One enters her vaginally, then the other joins her from behind. She moans and cries out continuously. Casey reddened with shame. Nausea brewed in her stomach.
After Pearl has a series of orgasms, Craig, the tall one who’d been with her from the front, says nicely, “Can you finish me off?” Pearl gets on her knees and performs fellatio hungrily. His necktie swings with her thrusts.
Casey stopped the video there. There was at least another half an hour to go, but she saw no point to it.
Less than an hour ago, Hugh had said to her, “Can you finish me off?” That was what he’d said. Was he aware that was a line from this film? Casey hadn’t given much thought to pornography before; it hadn’t touched her life directly. Jay had found it vulgar and not romantic. Unu didn’t own any. A few guys at Charter used to watch it on Saturdays, and girls trying to be cool would watch along with them, but Casey had never been interested in it. The image of the middle-aged woman between the two ugly men burned in her mind. What could Hugh find sexy about this? Could he have watched it so many times that he had unconsciously memorized a line like that? Would he have said it to any other woman? Or did he think that it was okay to say it to her? She rewound the video and put it back on the shelf with all the others.
Casey put his shirt back on the hanger. She dressed in her clothes. Should she leave a note? she wondered. Was this the way he saw her? How could she ever know what he really thought of her? Was that his fantasy? Was that why he had once said to her that he had wanted to fuck her for a long time? The girl looked nothing like her, but Casey used to own a red suit, and Hugh had complimented her on it. But he had often complimented her on what she wore. That was the way he talked to women. Feeling the lurch in her gut, Casey ran to the bathroom and threw up. After, she rubbed toothpaste on her teeth with her finger, then gargled repeatedly.