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“Frankie, I d’know a whole hell of a lot about it, but from what I’ve been told, hell, even a shit-head like Skorupsi loves doin’ it! An’ I don’t think fuckin’, an’ lovin’ fuckin’ someone means you gotta marry ’em, least way’s now!”

Frank stopped walking and, “Mitch,” grabbing him by the shoulder, spun him around so they’re facing each other. “I tell ya, Lisa’n’me love each other! Okay?” Poking his stiffened finger into his friend’s chest. “An’ it ain’t none’a your fuckin’ business, anyway! Okay?” Balling his right fist, cocking it beneath Mitchell’s chin. “I invited ya here to get laid, not to give me a fuckin’ lecture! Okay?”

He looked at the clenched fist, then into Frank’s anger-flushed face, and saw something he’d never imagined he would see coming from Frank directed towards himself: rage—pure, violent rage. 

______________________________________________________________________ _______

Chicago, Illinois

June 18, 1949

The two stared at each other for two seconds… four seconds, then, his face softened. “Shit, Mitchie!” and his clenched fist relaxed. “I’m sorry!”

Taking a deep breath, “Frankie, just now you looked like you hated me, an’ I really thought you were gonna slug me.”

“Mitch, you’re my best pal! I’d never hit’ch’ya!”

“Yeah, sure, I knew you weren’t going to hit me.” Really, though, he wasn’t too sure about that. “You’re my best pal, too…” Really, though, Norman was. “It’s just that I don’t wanna see you get into trouble an’ screw up your life.”

“Yeah, Mitch, I know that. Come on!”

Walking again, “I shouldn’t’a gotten mad at you,” Frank said. “Shit! What’j’ya said, I know you’re right. But Lisa keeps talkin’ ’bout when we get married this, and when we get married that. Damn! I’m still goin’ to high school an’ I wanna go to college so’s,” sweeping his hand in a wide arch, “I can get outta this shitty neighborhood. I know what Lisa’n’I’m doing’s a sin, but even when we try to stop we can’t! When we’re alone I kiss her an’ she kisses me an’ before you know it my hand’s under her blouse an’ I’m touching her an’ her hand’s in my pants touchin’ me, an’ we can’t seem to stop.” Taking a deep breath, Frank smiled. “An’ that ain’t all! You Jews think you got it tough? Lisa’n’me, we gotta go to confession.”

“Jesus!” Mitchell laughed. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Yeah, pal, ‘Jesus’ is right!”

“Yeah, we Jews had’a Hitler an’ gas chambers,” Mitchell said facetiously, “an’ you goys got confession. How d’ya handle it?”

Frank laughed. “It ain’t easy. Seems like all Lisa’n’me ever do, all the time, is say Hail Marys an’ Our Fathers.”

“How often do you guys gotta go to confession?”

Laughing again, “Every fuckin’ week!”

“Every week? Wow! An’ you gotta tell a priest every time you go, ’bout every time you’n’Lisa screw?”

“Yup! Every time!”

“Holy shit!”

“Oh, yeah! Holy shit is right!”

                                                                        **** 

Sitting on the front stoop, the girls were waiting for them.

“Hi, babe!” Taking Lisa by the hands, pulling her onto her feet, kissing her on the cheek, “You look great!” Eyeing Lisa in her pink cotton skirt and white, off-the-shoulder blouse, “How’s come your mother let you out’a the house lookin’ this good?” Frank pressed his nose into the soft crease of Lisa’s abundant cleavage.

Giggling, “She ain’t home.”

Hugging her, “I’d guess not!”

Rising without assistance, “Hi’ya, Mitchie.”

Standing slightly behind Frank, “Gina?” he almost didn’t recognize her because she actually looked good… well, almost.

Having taken a shower or bath, Gina’s hair was brushed straight back and, still having a wet sheen, it didn’t look quite as brassy as it had earlier. She’d brushed her teeth and, though there was still a very noticeable stain between her teeth, the moss was gone. She had put makeup on, so in comparison to the pasty color her face had been that afternoon, Gina now looked radiantly healthy. The white, pleated skirt she wore was cinched tightly at the waist, giving definition to her slight hips. Unbuttoned three buttons down, the collar of Gina’s mint-green, sleeveless blouse had purposely been left open revealing, nowhere near as much as Lisa, but…

How’s she do that? Mitchell could definitely see the soft contour of her breasts. Where’d all those tits come from? His mouth dropping open, “Gina! God!” he stammered. “You look great!”

“Hey,” hiding his mouth behind his hand, whispering in Mitchell’s ear, “I tol’j’ya you’d be surprised ’bout the way she’d look tonight. Didn’t I?”

“Yeah!” Still looking at Gina, well, actually leering at Gina, knowing what was coming later, Mitchell sensed the familiar twitching in his crotch.

“You look great, too, Mitch, uh,” remembering, “Mario.”

The yellow shirt made his tan appear even darker and his teeth even whiter and, if anything, to Gina, Mitchell was handsomer now than he’d been earlier and, knowing what was coming later, contracting her vaginal muscle, thinking, Juicy-Lucy. Sensing a moistening in her crotch, “Yeah,” she said, “we’d better get used to callin’ you Mario now. An’…” looking from his face to the hollow of his throat, “you’d better take that off, too.”

Putting his hand to his throat, he held the mezuzah.

“Yeah!” Frank said, “Even I forgot about callin’ ya Mario, an’ about that thing,” pointing, “you’d better get rid of it.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Obviously not wanting to, reluctantly pulling the chain over his head, he dropped it into his pocket.

“Hey, I got an idea!” Opening her purse, removing the change purse, opening it, Lisa handed something to Mitchell.

This was the very first time in his life that he’d touched one, let alone considered putting one on, and, holding it in the palm of his hand, he looked at it distastefully.

“Yeah! Hey, that’s a great idea, babe! Come on, Mitch, I’ll help ya put it on.” Anxiously, as though this were something he’d always wanted to do, taking it from his hand, “Bend down so’s I can reach ya.” Clasping it behind Mitchell’s neck, “Hey, pal,” standing back, looking at him, “now ya look like a double grade-A wop.”

His hand going to his neck, Mitchell attempted to smile but, the smile freezing on his lips, he fingered the small, gold crucifix for a second then let it drop where it lay against the hollow of his throat and fleeting thought of the vampire movies he’d seen, and the inevitable scene came to mind when someone pressed a crucifix, or a reasonable facsimile of a crucifix, against the vampire’s forehead and the flesh smoked, singed, than burst into fire. This crucifix, now, felt to Mitchell as though it were burning the flesh of his throat.

Mitchell Lipensky, though never ashamed, had never taken great pride in what he was. He’d never really given it much thought or taken the time to consider his ancestry or heritage. When he had been forced to go to Hebrew school he’d thought he hated being Jewish. But at that moment Mitchell realized that he was Jewish and knew, absolutely knew, that wearing a crucifix, for any reason was wrong.

“No!” Looking at Frank, expecting understanding from his friend. “I can’t wear this! I hope you understand, but if I do, then I’m doing something wrong.” He looked at the girls. “I even feel funny taking my mezzuza off, but okay, I don’t want any problem with the people here so I’ll keep it off. I don’t mean to insult you, but I just can’t wear this!” He attempted to pull it over his head but the chain was not long enough so, reaching behind his neck, Mitchell fumbled with the small clasp.

Thinking it would be an honor, looking at him in near disbelief, Frank and Lisa did not understand Mitchell’s motive for not wanting to wear the crucifix. And yes, they did feel insulted.

Oddly, “Mitchie,” Gina—of the huge crucifix, which, thankfully, she wasn’t wearing on this night—“I’m sorry,” Gina said, standing in front of him. “Bend your head down an’ I’ll help ya take it off.”

Appreciating her help, “Thanks, Gina.” Bending forward, he smelled the subdued fragrance of her cologne.

“Okay, Mitch,” Frank begrudgingly said, “guess maybe you’re right… Hey, it’s getting’ late an’ we’re gonna have to stand in line there.” Taking Lisa’s hand beginning to walk at a brisk pace, within moments Frank and Lisa were a number of paces ahead of Gina and Mitchell.

                                                                               ****

Looking at her over his shoulder, “Gina.”

“Yeah, Mitch?” Looking at him, their eyes locked.

“I wanna thank you for what you did back there. It’s hard to explain, but soon’s I put the cross on, it made me feel… I don’t know… it made me feel kind’a funny. Really, Gina, I don’t mean nothin’ against you guys, or your religion.”

“Yeah, I know ya didn’t mean nothin’, Mitch.” Quiet a moment, “It’s just that I think that when ya know what’j’ya are, ya gotta be what’j’ya are.”

Looking at her again, he understood that Gina was referring to herself, and the way she was, as much as she was referring to him and the way he was. Reaching to his right, taking hold of her hand, “You’re a pretty good guy,” he said seriously.

They walked a few paces before, tightening her fingers around his, “In case ya ain’t noticed, I ain’t no guy.”

Squeezing her hand, “Yeah, Gina, believe me, I noticed!”

                                                                                ****

…Standing in the long line outside the theater, waiting to buy tickets, Frank’s right! Mitchell thought. This is the third guy that’s come over to talk to her.

Seeing Gina, they’d leave their place in line and come to where they’re standing. They would nod their hellos to Frank and Lisa as Gina proudly introduced Mitchell as, “Mario, this here’s my friend, Marco,” or Paulie, or Mike…

And Marco, Paulie or Mike looked at him with obvious envy, made small talk for a moment, then returned to their places in line and the girls they’d left standing by themselves.

                                                                               ****

The lights in the theater dimmed, faded and went black. The talk and laughter subsided. Motion in color moved along the folds of the crimson curtain as it opened outward from the center. People cleared their throats, coughed, then, outside of the rustling of hundreds of bodies on movie theater seats, were silent.

Sitting slouched in his seat, fully absorbed, Mitchell was staring intently at the screen when, reaching across with her right hand, taking hold of his right hand, forcing him to sit up higher, Gina lifted it over her shoulder and around her neck. Looking at her briefly, he gladly moved closer.

The beautiful golden fawn ran through the woods…

His right hand now held with both of her hands.

…and bounded into a sun-lit clearing…

Gina moved his hand from her shoulder onto her chest.

…and to the shore of a sparkling blue, mountain lake….

Covering the V of her blouse with her left hand, she led his hand through the opening.

“…Flag!” The boy, Jody, called to the fawn…

Her index finger over his index finger, moving the first two joints of her finger, she moved the first two joints of his finger in a small, tight circle.

…As Jody came through the woods into the clearing he saw the fawn…

He felt something. Looking to his right, Oh, God! he realized that his hand, under her hand, was on her breast. And, Oh, God! that his finger, under her finger, was circling the aureole of her nipple.

…standing silhouetted against…

Becoming hard, the flat circle of Gina’s flesh erected.

…azure sky…

Aware, Oh, God! of what he was touching, becoming hard, the soft cylinder of Mitchell’s flesh also began to erect, as…

…and reflected…

Squeezing, he gently palpated the wondrous softness in the palm of his hand.

…on the…

Leaning closer, looking at her, he stretched his arm further.

…blue water.

In the semi-darkness of the theater, with muted tones of Technicolor light playing across her flesh, softening the hard angles of her face, amazed at the transformation, feeling a binding in his heart, How come I didn’t notice before? She is pretty, and I do like her, and I’m gonna get fucked tonight!

Straining against the armrest that separated their two seats, forgetting there were people about, a whole theater of people about, holding Gina’s breast, kneading the soft flesh of Gina’s breast, turning her face to his with his free hand, bringing his mouth to her mouth he kissed her and now, without a hint of hesitation, Mitchell’s tongue pushed through Gina’s lips, beyond her teeth and into her mouth…

Breaking the long kiss, “Whew,” Gina whispered. “Cool off, baby.” Sitting back in her seat, taking his hand from beneath her blouse and brassiere, placing it back on her shoulder, sitting straight up, “Be a good boy, Mitchie,” she said, primly folding her hands on her lap. “Watch the movie.”

He didn’t know why she’d moved his hand, but sure liked it better where it had been and after a minute, moving it from her shoulder, he put his hand onto her chest, then it slipped beneath her brassiere.

“Mitchie,” motioning for him to move his head closer, whispering, “watch the movie.” Flicking the inside of his ear with her tongue—causing a shiver to run up his spine—as, once again moving his hand from her breast, Gina placed it back onto her shoulder.

Looking at her in profile, taking his hand from her shoulder, he placed it onto the armrest… then onto her thigh, and within a few seconds began to rub her thigh, moving his hand in an ever-widening circular motion, working his way inward, and upward.

Covering his hand with both of her hands so the lady sitting next to her could not see what he was doing, slouching lower, Gina crossed her legs.

He felt the heat generated from her thighs and pubis…

And she allowed his hand to remain there… just long enough to realize that he’d reached his goal, then, lifting it over the armrest, putting his hand onto his lap, holding it there, “Later.” she whispered.

Later!

“Later.” Having whispering the provocative word, like the gloating fisherman who’d finally hooked an elusive fish, sitting back, Gina thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and also Mitchell’s squirming.