13thWR

DOORMAT

by

D. J. OLSEN

She opened the door, eyes averted incase someone might be waiting. Early, she thought, but they would come. They always did. Their hands were out and eyes knowing she'd give something. If not the first request, then something: a quarter or dime, a cigarette, a drink of water, the use of her scowered toilet where they left dirt and took something she'd later miss. The sun left something though. She rubbed her cor~ palms together. They warmed, like the way she felt all over when he came. He left her with something.

First she swept the worn welcome mat. Funny, she thought while watching the puffs of dust glow go~d in the early sun. Funny, they always wipe their feet as if not wanting to

bring anything in, or making room to take away. Before she had the door closed two came by. Two men, boys really, "Got a dime?" one yelled in a coughing voice. She shook her head. "How's about a smoke, a cigarette?" the other halted, watching her bowed head move back and forth, but seeing her hopeless eyes. They came through her gate-less fence as she turned away.

She left the door ajar. They came to the mat, wiped their feet, watching her pick up a package of tobacco and papers. When she looked back, their eyes were mocking. ⁵'Just one," she said, "just roll one. It's all I have." They rolled one each and begged a extra paper before they left.

She rolled herself one and stirred a cup of instant coffee, sitting on the bristly old couch, steam and smoke si~ting her eyes. "Price is Right" was on tv. The everyday lady with her shiny clean baby brought her back to the porch. "He needs his shots," the lady called to her. She looked at the caramel colored boy who looked back with ~ hopeful face. "He looks healthy," she said. -- "Gotta keep him that way," the lady answered, pulling him from the stroller. The boy's mouth puckered. She warmed the boy some milk and let the lady roll a smoke and gave the lady two quarters fare to the clinic.

This time she closed the door half way, just in case he came, and looked in her frig, examining what remained, just in case. There were a few strawberries just turning; some cake a little dry; a thigh of KFC, some bread, mayo not yet the deep yellow of spoiled. It would have to do.

In her bathroom the shelves were similar. She stared at the small box of birth control pills, but selected a bar of complexion soap instead. Washing her round face she looked into her empty eyes. Someday she would take something for herself, something she couldn't give away. Her inviting lips smiled as she brushed out long copper hair that flowed over her smooth shoulders. Gathering it back, she clamped it in a gold ring. He seemed to like it that way, remembering how₄is fingers touched the nape of her neck, her ear; the way he did that when she looked sadly away. A scratching sound drew her attention to the door. He was there, edging it open, wiping his shoes on the mat, a clever smile on his lean face.

He wasn't particularly handsome. Women's eyes didn't linger on him. He was short, too short on top to go with the long strong~ legs she studied while he walked around her rooms. Children of his could run away, she thought, like his face and eyes could say 'no' and mean it. He paused in front of her sofa, looking at the tv allowing her eyes to slide over his crotch. She forced her eyes' back to his face.

"You're here," she stated in answer to his knowing blue eyes. "Do you want to sit outside?" she asked. "No," he answered, "too many beggars out there." He closed the door firmly. She smiled. "What you got to eat?" his eyes turned hopeful on the way to her refrigerator. "Let's see," he opened the door with a sucking sound. She saw the disappointment in his eyes and looked away. "I'll do," he came beside her and touched her neck, letting a thread of his warm breath trickle in her ear. She nodded and filled his hand with hers.

She sat in the straight chair, watching him eat, until he patted the cushion beside him. Hunks were on Jenny, big muscles, hard asses covered with a little shiny cloth. "Change that," he demanded, his nose flattening. She liked that. He wasn't that way. He was safe. She turned the dial, pausing at a soaper. "Not that," he complained; "maybe some radio. Eighties stuff. Our kind," he added bringing them together with an afterthought.

For minutes they felt for passion, touching her nipples, putting her hand between his legs, wanting her to think about his need. She freed him, the part that stood begging. Laying back, pulling up her long skirt, lifting a leg along the sofa, a leg that tumbled over him, he entered her. "Love" she sighed. "You're job,"he replied. His thrusting scratched her thigh over the coarse sofanap. He collapsed over her. The hot stream was plentiful today. Her hips lifted for all of it, constricting to squeeze him dry.

He lifted himself away, his knee pinching her thigh, bruising it. She watched him tug up his shorts, packing away his penis, still protruding, shiny with her wet~ness. She. caressed her belly, rubbing her hand over the naked firm roundness, already pregnant in idea. He looked back, glancing at her. She pulled down her skirt, but put her hand back, searching for life. "I suppose we should be more careful," she said hopeful he'd rebut; not mentioning her disregarded pills. He stopped near the doorway, saying over, his shoulder, "No worry about that." He checked his fly to be sure he was street ready. "I'm sterile." His head jerked once as he stepped over the doormat.