387: “I got into it . . .”
Herb ’n’ Lorna, Chapter 18 continues
“I got into it because it was a way to make money, that’s all,” said Herb. “You know how my family needed money in those days. I was just a boy really, and my father was a bankrupt. Uncle Ben got into the business somehow, God knows how. He was always onto one scheme or another, Uncle Ben. I remember when he showed me the first one — a shirt stud. I didn’t even know what a shirt stud was. Carved on it was a woman, with her legs spread, and she was playing with herself. Did you — um — did you — did you make — ”
“That one? I might have, I did lots like that, but so did the others, and there must have been places all over the country where — or maybe there weren’t. Oh, but there must be now, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good question. I know I wish I had that stud or one like it. I’d really like to know. It may be just my mind playing tricks on me, but she — ”
“No, she wouldn’t have looked like me. If I made it, she wouldn’t have looked like me, not her face. Her body, but not her face. I used the faces of my friends. God, if any of them ever found out! But her body would have been mine. I don’t think your memory is that good, though, Herb.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I studied her pretty closely. You know, Lorna, I used to — I used to — oh, hell, I used to masturbate when I was looking at her.”
“Oh, I used to do it all the time, even in the workroom. We worked in a room at the mill, an unmarked room. There were only five of us, never more, and I was excited all day long. It was a constant thrill. My chest felt tight all the time, my fingers would tingle, and I’d shift on my seat, squeezing my legs together, for hours, hours, and sometimes I would just have to run to the ladies’ room, and I would sit down on the toilet and just touch myself once, just touch, and whooosh — up in flames! I wonder if it got to the men the same way — the men who worked on coarse goods. They had their own workroom. My God, that’s hilarious, isn’t it? They had their own workroom. Good to keep everything proper, I suppose. I knew them, the men, knew them all, but we never talked about what we did, never compared notes. I knew their work, all of it, but we never spoke about it, just walked past each other with our eyes down, ashamed, and all the time we were igniting one another secretly.”
“You know, that first time Uncle Ben showed me a piece of goods, he told me to look at the workmanship — he was always proud of the workmanship.”
“So was I. So am I.”
“So am I. But there’s more, lots more. Lots more to tell. Did you know that was why I started selling books — Professor Clapp’s? It was because of coarse goods. It was so I’d have a way to get into people’s houses — a front you could call it.”
“So that is how — Herb, I thought of almost the same thing, when I was going to try to sell — oh, Herb! Herb. I thought you were dead. Uncle Luther said you were dead — you — the man who designed the routines. You know what?”
“What?”
“I think I was — infatuated — in love with you. Without knowing who you were.”
“Really?”
“Really. Do you mind?”
“No. No, I don’t mind. Now, where was I?”
“Oh, Herb, I just thought of something! We’re saved! Do you realize that? I didn’t think of it until now, just now! We can make the money back, all of it!”
“Shhh. I know. I know. But don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?”
“Just the high points. I want to get to work.”
“Well, let’s see. I did pretty well for a while, and then I was drafted.”
“Oh, Herrrrb.”
“I’ve wanted to tell you all of this for more than forty years.”
“Oh, I know. I know. Go ahead.”
[to be continued on Tuesday, November 22, 2022]
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