"You are … are you?" she said. "Come on, then … I can hardly wait."
He looked at Paul with a subtle change in his eyes, the indefinable something that lingered there, momentarily, said something personal to himself with which she had no concern. As if he had preferred Paul's companionship to hers.
Another whore with a trick, thought Paul. He grinned back at them. Her companion looked so young, so good-looking. He would have liked to have shaken hands with him, say, "I'm Paul Boudreaux and I'd like to buy you a drink." He had done that before, but only when they walked alone. He sort of respected whores; they had a tough life too; even though he felt the boy would have gone with him, he would not interfere. No, whores didn't have it easy either … He started to walk and wondered as he did so, wondered what happened to prostitutes when they got old.
Two men in gaudy suits passed with a cunning grin. They glared at Paul and one said, "I don't know whether he's one of those queers or not … Kinda looks like one."
"I don't give a damn if he is or isn't. I'd like a fling with him." He looked at Paul and said, "Hi … want some company fellow?"
Paul only glared back at them and walked silently on. Beat your gums, you hop-headed bastards, he wanted to say. I'm not that hard up. Thank God I'm what I am and not like you … Sex … sex and more sex … Isn't there anything to life but sex …? He kicked at the sidewalk.
He walked a long time. Down Bourbon to St. Louis Street on which he turned. He looked into Antoine's. It was very busy but did not hold any interest. He thought of Cafe Lafitte on Bourbon and wondered if he should go back to it. He thought of Dusty and wondered where he was tonight. He was on Royal Street before he realized it. In fact, from this very spot he had seen Gaylord come down those steps across the street. He stared at them as if expecting a reappearance, but a short, bulging male had taken Gaylord's place and was now waddling to a waiting cab. The door closed and another person was gone. Paul gave a sickening little laugh. What a difference appearance makes … what a difference age.
The separation of the moment was heartbreaking for he was
