按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
it up while he still could）。 But he always used them for beating off。 Not a one had broken yet； and he figured he was getting into the thousands。
He fitted the slippery little sheath over the head of his dick and unrolled it； sliding his hand down with it； pretending it was Leaf's mouth。 The weight of the sheet was Leaf's hands； the extra pillow was Leafs skinny body pressed smooth against his own。 But when he came； Leaf disappeared and Zach saw an achingly blue wave crashing and foaming on pure white sand。
The rubber； as always； remained intact。 Maybe they had made the things flimsier back in '72。
For a few minutes he lay with his mind wandering and his hand still moving idly。 Not until warm tendrils of e started trickling back down into his pubic hair did he pull the thing off； knot the end of it； and toss it in the general direction of the toilet。 He heard a small wet plop that meant bull's…eye； though the room was so small it would've been hard to miss。 If every sperm was sacred； Zach figured he had made more offerings to the altar of the porcelain goddess than any other。
When he woke up later and saw the condom floating like a pale chrysalis in the blue…tinged water of the bowl； he would pee on it and then flush it。 Zach thought his body was a nifty machine and had a healthy appreciation of its many functions。
He turned over； stretched his lanky arms and legs across the unfamiliar expanse of mattress； pushed his head into the mound of pillows。 One of them lay snug against his side like a warm body sinking into sleep。 For an instant he wondered how it would be to fall asleep and wake up with someone next to him every morning； bodies fitting together in easy familiarity； skin smelling of each other and the safe shared bed。
But only for an instant did he think he might like it。 These were thoughts that usually only came to him on leaden winter mornings； when the needling rain of a New Orleans cold spell streaked his windowpanes。
The pillow was his only constant bedmate； in all its malleable； forting forms。 He held it close and pressed his face into it； smelled cotton and detergent and the lingering ghost of his e； damp and salty as the ocean； but cleaner。 In a while the image of his own bed faded from behind his eyes； and Zach began to dream of a long expanse of silky； sugary white sand； of water the color of the sky； of sky the color of the sun。
When he woke the room was full of sunset's first light； deep pinks and lavenders that lay in overlapping petal…like layers across the bedclothes and made him think he was still dreaming。 As consciousness seeped back in； Zach contemplated going out to the beach to watch the sun set and get something to eat。 A steady edge of hunger was gnawing at his stomach。 But all the happy couples were probably strolling hand in hand in the grimy surf。 Zach decided to stay in and order a pizza。
He paged through the phone book； ripped out the Domino's ad and tore it into tiny pieces…they supported Operation Rescue and other heinous fascist causes…then dialed a local parlor and ordered a twelve…inch pie with triple jalapenos。
Thirty minutes later； his hair dripping from a fast shower； Zach munched pizza and drank grape soda from the motel's machine while he studied his new atlas。 He'd stopped to fill the Mustang's tank somewhere near Valdosta； and while it had not been nearly as fine an adventure as his stop in Pass Christian； he had scored three tapes； a hot Slim Jim； and the book of maps。 He saw that 1…95 north from Savannah would take him all the way into North Carolina。 Zach didn't like interstates； but he was well away from New Orleans now and ready to cover some more distance in a hurry。
And after North Carolina； where？ Leaf had thought him a New Yorker。 Zach had always been intrigued by the idea of such a tiny island…bound city crammed full of people of every possible race； gender； and persuasion； entire cultures and culture wars； systems of magic and religion； infinite microcosms。 Maybe now he could get lost there。
He finished his pizza； dropped off his room key at the office； slapped on his new Hank Williams tape； and headed north。
Just before midnight Zach sat drinking a Bloody Maria at the Sombrero Lounge； a colorful confection of a building molded primarily of pink stucco； orange neon； and thousands of twinkling white fairy lights。 The South of the Border theme park on 1…95 had drawn him in like a bug to a gaudy flame。
SOB's increasingly surreal billboards loomed along the highway for thirty miles before the park； all 3…D papier…mache sculpture and moving parts； giant hot dogs and spinning sheep and the smirking mustachioed mug of pedro； the SOB mascot。 It was like a little city set down in the middle of nowhere； halfway between New Jersey and Disney World （as one of the signs bragged）； and after three hours of dark interstate flanked by monotonous stretches of farmland and stands of pine； its tacky bars and souvenir shops with their Easter egg paint jobs of purple and pink and chartreuse had looked to Zach like the lights of Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras。
As he finished his drink； an eye…watering blend of tequila and Tabasco with a splash of tomato juice； an idea came to him。 He left the bar and drove across the plex to pedro's motel； paid cash for one of the 〃heir conditioned〃 rooms； dug his battery…powered laptop puter out of the back seat and took it inside； along with the OKI 900 cellular phone he carried everywhere。 Zach had tumbled the phone； or reprogrammed it to generate a new ID number each time he used it。 It could not receive calls； but neither could his calls be traced。
The furniture and walls of the room were painted pink； the bed heart…shaped； with a mirror on the ceiling and a slick spread of lurid red satin。 No doubt you could put a quarter in and summon the Magic Fingers。 Instead； Zach turned on the laptop； entered a stolen MCI credit card number； and dialed into the posing department of the New Orleans Times…Picayune。
Over a year ago he had discovered that the newspaper had a program that let reporters type in their stories from home。 He'd created an account for himself； changing his password every time he planted an item in the paper。 Currently it was ZYGOTE； thanks to his last story about the petrified abortion。 He logged on and changed it to pedro。 Then he typed：
GODDESS SEEN IN BOWL OF GUMBO
by Joseph Boudreauxn Staff Writer
The Goddess Kali is known in Hinduism as
the Mother and Destroyer of Creation…But
can she make a roux？
In a twist on the well…known Jesus…in…the…plate…of…spaghetti theme； Parvata Sanjay of India spied the Hindu goddess in his bowl during a recent visit to New Orleans； while sampling the seafood gumbo ata popular French Quarter restaurant。 〃Her four terrible arms were outstretched；〃 said Sanjayn； 〃and her bloody； lolling tongue was clearly visible。 It was only a pattern in the soup； formed by the oil on the surface； but I believe all patterns have significance。 〃
Might Mr。 Sanjay have sampled a few Dixie beers as well？
The Calcutta native plans to continue his American travels in North Carolina； wherehe says h