My Juliet John Ed Bradley

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My Juliet  by  John Ed Bradley

My Juliet by John Ed Bradley
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Last of the whiskey consumed, the butt of his cheap Honduran cigar smoldering in a glass tray, Louis Fortunato staggers to his feet finally and slips the unlabeled videocassette into the VCR. Its what he came for, after all. And Sonny, if not yetMoreLast of the whiskey consumed, the butt of his cheap Honduran cigar smoldering in a glass tray, Louis Fortunato staggers to his feet finally and slips the unlabeled videocassette into the VCR. Its what he came for, after all. And Sonny, if not yet drunk, is having a hard time staying awake.You sure you want to see this? Louis says, punching buttons on the machine.

Hey, Sonny? I need to know, man. You sure you want to see this?Sonny LaMott, slow to open his eyes, sits up tall on the little Naugahyde sofa by the window. Its not that I want to, he says. I need to, brother. We both do.The audio is poor and she makes more noise than either of them remembers but its Juliet all right: the great head of hair, the hungry mouth,the breasts capped with nipples no different in color than the too-pale flesh around them.

Shes sitting on a corduroy love seat with panties looped around one ankle, a thin gold chain around the other. Her legs are spread open. A mound of expertly trimmed pubic hair, the same golden shade as the hair on her head, holds the middle of the screen.Jesus, Louis says with a whistle, then abruptly breaks it off.A man has entered the picture. He is tall and narrowly constructed, with a mole on his lower belly. It looks like a mole, anyway, although as easily it could be a botched tattoo. When after some encouragement from Juliet the mans penis comes up, Sonny lowers his head and looks away.

He has to swallow, and this is difficult. Where on earth do they find guys like that? he wonders.Juliet is happy and energetic, loud when expressing her pleasure, all too eager to please. Give her partner credit, he doesnt pander. He goes at it, working with concentration so high in his face that he could be trying to solve a math problem.This way . . .Everything.Like that?Come on, you. Give it to me. . . .Even louder than in the old days, if that is possible. To end it, Juliet uncorks a cry that sounds like an animal being tortured.Sonny is about to say something when Louis, leaning close to the screen, snaps his head back and lets go a low gurgle of laughter.

God, man, can you believe the dick on this guy?The screen dissolves to bands of crackling white on a black field. The whole room, theyre in Sonnys house, buzzes in the sudden silence.Louis puts a fresh cigar in his mouth and lights it leaning into a burner on the kitchen stove.Sonny, able to control himself no longer, retreats to the bathroom and weeps at the sink, scooping hands of water to his face.He isnt there long when the sound of the movie comes again, the sound of Juliet like that.Hey, Sonny, does she still have her mannerisms?

Louis says to the empty space, his words mangled for the stogie in his mouth.When Sonny returns to the living room Louis is crouched in front of the TV, pressing buttons and making the tape squeal in the box. You want me to leave this with you? he says. Or you want me to take it? Better I take it, huh?Leave it, Sonny says. Leave it so I can put it out with the trash in the morning.He throws the curtains open, a cloud of sun-bright dust spiraling around him.

The effects of the whiskey have dissipated and all that remains is a taste o



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