The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse

chest. The strength of her embrace surprised him. She was not small but she was no giant, either, yet when she squeezed him it took his breath away. Suddenly she was lifting him off the floor, her face still in his chest, and she twirled him with a few staggering steps. When she put him down she pulled her face away and looked up at him. She was smiling, grimacing really, with his chest hairs in her clenched teeth.
    “Hey!”
    “What are you, a baby?” she said. “Is um baby?”
    “You’re kind of hyper, aren’t you? Let’s take it slow.”
    “Is um baby?” she mocked. She stroked his chest. “Did I hurt ums? Did I hurt baby?”
    “I guess I’ll live,” he said. “You just surprised me.” It was his first opportunity to glance around the room. He halfhoped to see a trapeze or some other device of exotic erotica. Whatever it was, whatever she had in mind, he would try it. Edgar felt he had spent half a lifetime thinking about the more advanced and complicated techniques of sex that he was only dimly aware existed. He was never precise in his mind about the details and he had always lacked the confidence to experiment. The things he wanted to do seemed embarrassing, unreasonable—almost rude—and he could not bring himself to ask his normal bedmates to try them. Especially not his wife, whom he would have to face again in the cold light of day. But with this woman, this Dee, he knew he would not have to ask permission for anything. In fact, it might be all he could do just to hang on.
    “I know what baby needs,” she said. She pulled her blouse over her head without undoing the buttons. She wore no bra. Her breasts were small and firm and she arched her back as if she were proud of them. He thought she should be. Her ribs showed against her skin, and with her back bowed her belly sucked inward the way it did in statues. She was not small of bone; her shoulders were broad and her hips flared distinctly from her waist, but she was lean and strong. Edgar loved them lean. He liked to feel as if he could lift and move his women when he needed to; he liked to feel in control.
    “Does um want some?”
    “I do,” he said and put his hands on her biceps as he lowered his head. The muscles were firm under his fingers.
    She moaned loudly as he took the breast in his mouth. Edgar knew he was going to love this. He sucked her breast briefly, switched to the other one, heard her gasp with pleasure, and reached for the zipper of her skirt.
    “I’m going to take good care of you,” he murmured. He buried his face in her neck as he fumbled with her skirt.
    “Shut up,” she said. She took his head in her hands and placed it back on her breast. “I’ll tell you when you’re done.”
     
    Ash reached the motel after an hour’s walk. He saw the Daybreak sign, mouthed it aloud to himself, and turned into the courtyard. Their room was on the corner. Dee always took a corner room if possible. It cut their neighbors in half, she explained. Ash had tried to visualize their neighbors being cut in two, but the images always led to thoughts of violence and blood and he soon stopped trying to understand what she meant.
    The curtains were only partially drawn and the lights within the room were on. Ash peered in and saw Dee on the floor on all fours. The Lyle was behind her, thrusting at her. Dee’s teeth were bared as if she were snarling and he could hear her calling.
    Ash did not want to watch. He sat on the hard concrete stoop in front of the motel room door.
    “Daddy, oh. Daddy!” he heard her call. “Yes, Daddy! Come on, Daddy!”
    Ash covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to think about the last good time with Dee. It was just last night when she was beginning to be happy, but she wasn’t yet too happy the way she was today. He was watching one of his nature shows. A snake had encountered a frog that, instead of hopping for its life, had inflated itself twice its size and risen on its legs. It seemed