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them my ID. I haven't played that game in a while. I look across the pool at Jennifer and she really is twenty-nine. I look at Ryan and he really is forty. I look at my nineteen-year-old and there's no doubt about it. She really is nineteen. "Do you do most of your babysitting at Steve's house or his wife's?" "Mostly here," she says. "Why?" "Then you know where the guest bedroom is." She holds my eyes, then smiles her straight-toothed smile. "It's right over there," she says and tilts her head toward the house, her hair falling, lustrous, smelling fresh. "Heightened moments," I say. I follow her inside, up the stairs, down the hall, into the guest bedroom. There's a flowered bedspread and pillows with ruffles and I wonder what's gotten into my college friend Steve. Maybe he's making enough money to hire interior decorators for every room. My nineteen-year-old doesn't wait for me to make some smooth move. She has her shirt off, her shorts off, and she's taking off her bathing suit. "I assume you have a condom," she says. "I'm always prepared." From outside the closed, draped windows, I can hear the noise of the party. I wonder if anyone will miss me. I get undressed, put on the rubber, move to the kid on the bed, move my mouth down her neck, over her breasts, circling her nipples. Her body is perfect, not an ounce of fat, not a centimeter of age. I open her up with my fingers, put my cock in and fuck her and fuck her and listen to the young sounds she makes. I'm a marathon fucker. My power comes from showing any woman that I can go longer and harder than she can. It's another game I like to play. "Not bad for an old man," I say. "I told you. I like old men." "I'm not old." "You're not young." "Am I fucking you old?" "You're fucking me good, but you're not young." I start fucking her harder, fucking her to win. Maybe she's playing her own game. Fucking with me like whipping some horse to go faster. Outside I hear applause and then quiet and then I hear Steve's voice. He's thanking everyone for coming to his party. He's telling everyone that forty is a milestone age, an age where you have to take stock of your life because the decisions you make now will last the rest of your life, how you have to realize that the spring in your step is not quite as springy. Adam Berlin 73
"And the wood in your dick is not as woody," Ryan yells out from across the pool. "That too," Steve yells back and everyone laughs. I'm not laughing. I'm fucking a nineteen-year-old. The spring's in my step. The wood's in my dick. They can all grow old and weak and fall apart, but I will not succumb. "Are you almost done?" she says. "What?" "You old guys take a long time to come. Steve always needs me to talk dirty to him." "You're fucking Steve?" "Why not?" "Because. Because he looks old. Because he is old. Did you hear what he just said?" "It sounded true to me. You are what you are at your age." "I'm not what I am," I say. "What are you?" "Whatever." "Whatever," she says. "I'm the guy who's fucking you. That's what I am." I'm fucking her, my ass is moving, my cock is going in and out, but I'm not really with her. Not really. I never am. I'm an extra. I'm an extra on film and an extra in life. I live in a tiny studio without a kitchen. I cater other people's weddings. I've never had a serious relationship in my life. I run and I work out and I sleep enough to stay pretty and a nineteen-year-old girl is asking me to hurry up and come so she can get back to the party and a guy I went to school with is telling me I am what I am and a potbellied idiot is surprised I'm still acting, looking into my horizon, seeing a life of losing ahead of me. "So are you almost done?" she says. "I think we should get back downstairs." "I'm a great actor," I say. "Okay." "I mean, I can really act. I'm a great actor." "Whatever." "Whatever." I pull my cock out, pull off the rubber, throw it against the wall. It sticks there for a moment, the lubricant holding strong, and then falls. "You didn't come," she says. "You know us old guys." I pull on my pants and shirt as fast as I can, but she's even faster. 74 The Smell of Mortality
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Coe Review Volume 38 Number 2 Sprin
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Coe Review COMMUNICATIONS EDITOR Ka
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Roman Norma of the Manor Ben Brooks
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might know things. In fact the more
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"So how was your day?" he asked. "M
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head upstairs, and eat at his desk
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and looked over the page she was re
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then get up. If you want to go away
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the drawings phase, and his next pr
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fingers brushed a red plastic bow t
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Old Wars Dennis Vannatta My wife us
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all over it until I'm exhausted but
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could be a freshly dug grave, but I
Page 28 and 29: "The German babe." "Oh, that Marie.
Page 30 and 31: I'm going to make you pay rent on t
Page 32 and 33: always the same sound. That sound w
Page 34 and 35: quantity, the quality. I would alwa
Page 36 and 37: point, will you, lady? this article
Page 38 and 39: it: Nothing. You laugh, though ther
Page 40 and 41: Slaughtered Cows Julia Rubin You ar
Page 42 and 43: Your heart starts to pound. "I'm a
Page 44 and 45: You wake in darkness, curled up on
Page 46 and 47: Kyle Mangan 41
Page 52 and 53: Henry Fragmentary Ben Martin Henry
Page 54 and 55: on weekends, that I had a handle on
Page 56 and 57: As a matter of fact, I had gathered
Page 58 and 59: irthday who played Henry's game as
Page 60 and 61: swer it. I was attracted to her. Sh
Page 62 and 63: lunged, lips first, for her mouth a
Page 64 and 65: "It's nice to see you." I break the
Page 66 and 67: lanket across her torso to keep her
Page 68 and 69: my whiskey. Suddenly I feel loose a
Page 70 and 71: cheek. I squeeze her. "It's all rig
Page 72 and 73: nius." "I like to think so." "So St
Page 74 and 75: person, and while I'm still in thei
Page 76 and 77: shampoo commercial. "He graduated f
Page 80 and 81: "Nice meeting you," she says and le
Page 82 and 83: get you laid?" "Well I go to these
Page 84 and 85: was some sort of foul religious slu
Page 86 and 87: While waiting for it to bake, Darla
Page 88 and 89: I'll be right to bed. Well? Well? C
Page 90 and 91: screaming children again, Darla tri
Page 92 and 93: A box of fish sticks, a bag of pota
Page 94 and 95: Who is this? It's after midnight! F
Page 96 and 97: telling her hush now, it will be ok
Page 98 and 99: cannot, for the life of me, account
Page 100 and 101: I know she goes to Northern Illinoi
Page 102 and 103: manage to pry it loose then this be
Page 104 and 105: None of the lines are all that deep
Page 106 and 107: Gut Bay Elizabeth Eslami There is a
Page 108 and 109: on to and feel you were holding on
Page 110 and 111: did Dr. Renard. We didn't tell them
Page 112 and 113: into the ice, the wind ripping at t
Page 114 and 115: It was another year before Lloyd ha
Page 116 and 117: again somehow, and wondered if thei
Page 118 and 119: Contributor's Notes Alonso Avila is
Page 120 and 121: the Department's Lon Tinkle Prize f
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