106
BERNARD MALAMUD
Fidelman stroked her slowly. After ten minutes she said, " 'Gioco
di mano, gioco di villano.' Use your imagination."
He used his imagination and she responded with excitement.
"Dolce tesoro," she whispered, flicking the tip of her tongue into
his ear, then with little bites biting his earlobe.
The door bell rang loudly.
"For Christ's sake, don't answer," Fidelman groaned. He tried
to hold her down but she was already up, hunting her robe.
"Put on your pants," she hissed.
He had thoughts of waiting for her in bed but it ended with
his dressing fully. She sent him to the door.
It
was the crippled
portinaia, the art student having neglected to take down the garbage.
Annamaria furiously got the two bags and handed them to her.
In
bed she was so cold her teeth chattered.
Tense with desire Fidelman warmed her.
"Angelo mio," she murmured. "Amore, possess me."
He was about to when she rose in a hurry. "The cursed door
again !"
Fidelman gnashed his teeth. "I heard nothing."
In
her tom yellow silk robe she hurried to the front door, opened
and shut it, quickly locked and bolted it, did the same in her room
and slid into bed.
"You were right, it was nobody."
She embraced him, her hairy armpits perfumed. He responded
with postponed passion.
"Enough of antipasto," Annamaria said. She reached for his
member.
Overwrought, Fidelman though fighting himself not to, spent
himself in her hand. Although he mightily willed resurrection, his
wilted flower bit the dust.
She furiously shoved him out of bed, into the studio, flinging
his clothes after him.
"Pig, beast, onanist!"
4.
At least she lets me love her. Daily Fidelman shopped, cooked,
and cleaned for her. Every morning he took her shopping sack off
the hook, went to the street market and returned with the bag stuffed
