Mona and Other Tales by Reinaldo Arenas Page A

44th, she made a phone call, then started walking toward the theater district. On 47th Street, someone, who evidently was waiting for her, opened the door of a limousine, and Elisa got in. I was only able to see a masculine hand helping her in. It was easy to get a taxi and follow the limo, which stopped at 172 East 89th Street. The chauffeur opened the door, and Elisa and her companion went into the apartment building. To keep warm, I waited inside a telephone booth. An hour later, that is, around ten-thirty, Elisa came out. With my experience, I could tell that she had enjoyed a long and satisfying sexual encounter. She looked at her watch and started walking toward Central Park. She reached 79th and approached a bench where a young man was sitting, obviously waiting for her. I thought (I am sure of it) that he was the person Elisa had phoned from Broadway. The dialogue now was as short as the phone call had been. Without any fuss, they disappeared into the shrubbery. Unseen, I was able to watch how quickly and easily the pair coupled. Dry leaves crackled under their bodies, and their panting scared away the squirrels, which clambered up the trees, screeching loudly. The whole thing lasted about an hour and a half, since by twelve-thirty Elisa was taking a leisurely walk in the 42nd Street porno district. Boldly, without any shame, she would ogle the men who passed obviously looking for a woman or something like that. Farther down the street, Elisa stopped in front of a towering, handsome black man standing by the door of a peep show. I was not able to hear their conversation, of course, but it seemed that Elisa got straight to the point: in less than five minutes they were inside one of the booths at the peep show. They stayed locked up in there for more than half an hour. When they came out, the young black man seemed exhausted; Elisa was radiant. It was now two o’clock in the morning, and she was still cruising around the area. A few seconds later I saw her, accompanied by three jocks who looked like hillbillies, entering a booth at the Black Jack peep show. Fifteen minutes later, the door slammed open and she came out, looking quite pleased. I did not wait to see the men’s faces. . . . When I saw Elisa (now with a Puerto Rican who looked very much like a pimp) go into another peep show, the one on 8th Avenue between 43rd and 44th, I realized that my “fiancée” would not come to me late that night, as she had promised. And in spite of what I had been witnessing, I could not but feel a sense of total loss. Elisa was the woman with whom I had fallen in love, for the first time. . . . But at quarter to three, she came out of the peep show and started walking toward Wendy’s. To be with her once more, I obliterated everything I had seen and started running, so I’d be there, waiting, when she came. The cashier and the other employees were puzzled to see me taking my post behind the glass wall. Elisa was there in no time, and together we went to my room.
    That night in bed she was extraordinarily demanding, more so than ever, which is saying a lot. In spite of my desire and my extensive experience, it was not easy to satisfy her. Though after the encounter I pretended to fall asleep, I did not sleep a wink. What I had seen had left me totally perplexed. Of course, I could not tell her I had spied on her, could not appear jealous, though in all truth I was. Actually, I did not think I had the right to demand fidelity from her, since at no point had we vowed to be faithful to each other.
    It was close to nine o’clock in the morning when, while I pretended to be asleep, she woke up, dressed in silence, and went out without saying good-bye. But I was obsessed (though now I regret it) with following that woman and finding out where she lived, who she really was. . . . At 43rd and Eighth she took a taxi. I took another. While following her, nodding in my seat, I wondered if it was possible for