Isaac’s fingers traced the faded flower pattern on the bate mattress as he inhaled the heavy cloud of Tiffany’s perfume. They had no water- it’d been off for a couple of months- and the option to wash in the standing toilet water was gone when Tiffany came home a week ago vomit drunk. The bathroom door stayed shut, now.

“Fucking drink it, Tiff,” he said, watching her back muscles twitch as she struggled into her dress.

“I hate that shit. It’s gross.” She looked at him through a dress strap. He didn’t move to help. She shifted out of the dress and threw it on the floor. It fell onto a pile of cigarette butts.

“I called in an ask to my family and you know how much I hate that shit. Drink it. You’re not working and that’s causing problems for me.” He tossed a small polyurethane bag filled with yellow fluid at her back. It hit with a thwack and fell to the floor with a thud.

“Don’t fucking throw shit at me, Isaac.” She spun to face him, eyes filled with fire, top lip trembling. He said nothing. She lifted the bag and dangled it in front of her face between her index finger and thumb. “It’s not gonna even work.”

“Drink it or get the fuck out.” Isaac’s voice clouded the room as Tiffany’s perfume had- dense and oppressive. She twisted a tube and squeezed the contents of the bag into her mouth. Isaac didn’t look away from the rage in her gaze. “We can’t afford the hormones. And that ain’t my fault. I do the best I can for us. I got you those tits, didn’t I? You know we make more money when you’re on hormones.”

Tiffany pressed her palms against her nipples. “It doesn’t even work like that. And how do you even know it’s the right stuff? Maybe your cousin gave you his own pee. Then what, huh? Then you just paid for me to drink Casey’s pee.”

He held another bag in his palm. She took it, opened it; drained it.

“Ain’t Casey’s piss,” he said, smiling. “Now, look. I’ve been working out out there so I can open up my asshole to a bunch of closet fucks that can’t get over getting their dicks up on their high school quarterbacks. If I’m working, you bet your ass I’m getting you out there, too.”

“Didn’t say I don’t wanna work, Isaac. It just won’t help anything, me drinking this old piss.”

“There’s more in the freezer, you ungrateful bitch.”

“You illiterate donkey.”

They stared at each other, fists clenched and teeth grinding.

Tiffany sighed. “I don’t wanna fight with you,” she moaned. “I drank it. Fuck you.” She bent over and grabbed the dress from the pile of trash, shaking the ash into the air. “Help me get into this.”

He stood behind her as she pulled the dress onto her shoulders. Guiding her arms through the dress, he kissed the side of her neck. As he yanked the dress down, he slapped her ass. She laughed and turned into his arms, arms that wrapped around her in muscle memory, arms that held her like no one ever had.

“I need a line, baby,” she whispered into his chest. “Can you fix me up one while I find my heels?”

Isaac fell back on the mattress, his fingers in his pockets. He extracted a half-full baggie of powder and a $5 bill. “Tiff, where’s that book?”

Tiffany grabbed her shoes and an old science textbook and sat on the bed next to him. She pulled the straps around her ankles and kissed his neck. He separated a mound into two clean, fat lines. She took the rolled $5 and bent over the book. Granules disappeared quickly through the cash until only one line was left. Her body fell, arms over her face.

“Fuck,” she groaned.

Isaac’s nose slowly cleaned the textbook and he tossed it to the floor. He stood and his foot caught a pair of pants. He stopped himself from tripping and kicked them into the wall.

“Can’t you fucking clean this place?”

“Bitch, can’t you?” Tiffany somersaulted in slow motion from the bed and landed standing, now towering over Isaac. “I know what you’re thinking and don’t you dare put another hole in that fucking wall. Tell me I look good and let’s get out of here. Where am I going?”

“The Bun Boy. Guy’s name is Tom. Wait. No, Richard. My guy’s name is Tom.”

“The BB? That’s a long walk, Isaac.”

“So take sneakers. Don’t got money for a cab. I gotta get the water back on.”

“What about you?”

“I’m at the Castle.”

Tiffany’s hand twisted the doorknob, but she didn’t open the door. “Why couldn’t you get me in at the Castle? You always do this.”

“You’re not welcome back at the Castle and you fucking know it. C’mon. Let’s go.”


Twenty minutes into the walk, Tiffany regretted not bringing her sneakers. Her nose bled onto the concrete and she shivered in the night’s humidity. She looked up into a streetlamp and stopped walking, the strong yellow light making her feel like she was on a stage, standing over an audience of zero. She could be anything, anyone she pleased, with no one here to witness. Escape, complete her metamorphosis, become this butterfly that formed ages ago in the cocoon of her mind. Flutter away and no one would even notice except Isaac and maybe he’d look for her but probably he would just replace her- but how would he recognise her if he found her? He’d never see her as a butterfly. She could float right by him and forever away.

She kept walking, trying not to limp. How did anyone even take care of a butterfly? What did they eat? Releasing herself from that cocoon would probably kill her.

Inside her bra, she found a lighter and her cigarettes. She lit one cigarette, savouring the nicotine and cheap tobacco flavour, and exhaled her stress. Four months since she last worked at the Bun Boy. So, yeah, she was maybe a bit nervous. And Isaac was working tonight, too. So he wouldn’t be waiting for her. They must be hard up if Isaac was working. She shouldn’t’ve puked in the toilet. Isaac made enough pushing that she didn’t have to hook so much. They could afford their place and most of the utilities. But something was always off and she was always the reason it had to get turned back on. So she’d work tonight and tomorrow they’d have running water again.

She didn’t realise she’d entered the Bun Boy parking lot until she was spotlit once more, this time by headlights. When the lights went off, she limped over to the car and leaned into the window.

“Please say you’re Diamond,” the man implored.

“That’s me, baby,” Tiffany answered. “You must be Tom- no, Richard? Why are you sitting in your car? You know there’s a waiting room.”

“Never been here before.”

“Oh. Well. C’mon, get on. Let’s go inside.”

The car door opened and the man poured out of the driver’s seat, his limbs tangling into themselves as he tried to stand.

“You’re more fucked up than I am,” Tiffany laughed. “You know you’re paying for my time, baby?” She grabbed his arm and he fell onto her, stressing her ankle and breathing tequila up her nostrils. She guided him through the cars to the glass window. “Fra-ank,” she called through the bars, into the mouthpiece. A buzzer sounded inside and she pushed the man through the metal door. “Sober up,” she warned and pushed him away. A wall stopped him from tumbling over.

“Hey, Diamond,” Frank greeted her as she entered the waiting room. “Two-three-seven. You got him?”

She laughed. “I’ve had drunker.”

Tiffany led Richard through the hallways. She pulled his wrist and used the walls to stop him from falling over. The 2 was missing on the door of room 237. Inside the room, everything was brown- the carpet, the bedding, even the walls were tan. Stale cigarette smoke dominated as the room’s primary odour; it barely masked the scent of pussy and cheap cologne.

The immediate sobering effect on Richard was obvious- a slap in the face by an ice cold hand. He sat himself on the bed and removed his shoes.

Tiffany extended her fingers. “Cash first, baby.” She counted the wad he placed in her palm and laid it on the nightstand. “Alright. I’m not taking off this dress. It’s hell to get into. I’ll show my tits, though. That good for you, baby?” She knelt before him and unzipped his pants. Working his flaccid penis out of the prison of white briefs, she inspected it. Satisfied, she gently tugged before placing both his cock and balls into her mouth.

Animated, he pulled away from her. “You’re gonna make me come.”

She chuckled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“I’m not ready, yet. Lemme see your tits.”

She relocated the items in her bra and yanked at the straps of her dress until her nipples pointed toward her face. She smiled at him, rubbing her breasts, and placed her fingers over Richard’s. He stroked himself, her hands over his, but the moment she placed her lips against the head of his cock, he pulled away again.

“Let’s just fuck, baby.” She tried to hide her agitation. “You wanna feel my tight little asshole hug on this big dick, right?” She pulled his pants over his ankles and lifted her dress to her back. Her waist wiggled, ass in his face, as she dug a condom from her bra. She quickly tore it open and put the rolled-up tube in her mouth, bent over him, and gently slid it onto his dick with her lips and the tip of her tongue. “Mmm. Yeah, let me ride that big dick. I’m starving for you, baby.” She tried to climb on top of him.

He shook his head and pushed her away. “From behind,” he insisted.

She rolled her eyes and leaned on her elbows on the brown bedspread. “Alright, baby, any way you want it.” She wondered if she could fake it as she spat onto her fingers and massaged them into her asshole, but he was inside shortly and she moaned and pretended pleasure as best she could.

He put his fingers to her throat and she forced them away with her palm, holding both their bodies up with her other arm. “I don’t do the rough stuff, honey,” she said. He put them back and she hit at them. “Stop it.” She allowed her voice to deepen.

The third time, he tightened his grip and when she hit him, he hit back- hard, in the back of her head. He was still inside her, no longer thrusting. She hit out from under him and he reinforced his grip, still punching at her head.

“Hey, you fuck-” And his fist connected with her eye and the stars were out so bright and she went


Back to the brown of the motel room and she could feel the dead weight of a body over her own and smell the cigarettes and vomit of the room- though, as far as she could tell, none on her. She grabbed his cock between her index and middle fingers and slid carefully away from him. The peeling shed pelt of the condom looked cartoonish, strangling the limp dick skin inside. It was intact and- discounting the shriveled penis- empty.

She kicked him. “You dumb fuck!” she screamed. He didn’t move.

One hand took the cash from the nightstand as the other grabbed his pants. Keys, no wallet. Hopefully he’d left it in the car.

She took the back exit and ran around to the front of the motel. No doubt she’d be banned from the Bun Boy now, too.

His wallet rested in the centre console. She looked at herself in his rearview mirror. The black eye was already forming. Though nothing hurt, yet.

So she walked. When she passed the gas station, she stopped and bought water and snacks with Richard’s credit card. The walk felt twice as long and she wished she had her sneakers. When the heels became unbearable, she sat to take them off, shivering and trying to remember where she was going and thinking that she’d somehow missed it and maybe she should turn around.

When she finally made it home, her bare foot slid over a piece of glass in the carpet. She didn’t notice. She collapsed to the floor and the water, plastic bag, and heels fell with her. Isaac turned on the mattress. Seeing her, he sat upright so abruptly, he immediately fell back to the bed.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

She clawed in her bra for the cash, then threw it in his direction. “Fuck you, Isaac!”

He collected the money before crawling over to her. She moved away from him when he touched her face. “Hell, Tiff.” He saw her feet. “You’re fucking bleeding.”

She gestured at the water. “I want a bath.”

“You barely got enough water to brush our teeth.”

“Then get more!” And the tears. “Goddammit. Isaac, I want a bath!”

“Tell me what happened, goddammit.”

“I’m not drinking your cousin’s fucking piss and I’m not doing this anymore, Isaac! I deserve better than this.” A realisation. An epiphany. “I deserve better than this.”

“What don’t I do for you?” Thunder. “I provide for us. I keep you here and you rarely pay a dime. I’m always out of money because of you. And now you think you don’t gotta work? You’re some fucking kept bitch now, huh? Talking about what you deserve.” Lightning.

“I was doing just fine before I met you, you lousy trashcan pimp.”

“I’m a pimp, now?! You want a bath so damn bad, who’s the pimp that’s going to get your water back on? Huh? I ask you to do one thing, Tiffany. And you somehow manage to fuck that up, too. Christ.”

“Fuck you, Isaac!” She tried to stand, but her knee stiffened beneath her and she came back down. “I’m leaving.”

“Where you fucking gonna go?” He leaned over her. “You can’t. I won’t let you. You’re mine.”

She struggled against him. He pinned her down.

“You know I take care of us. I take care of you. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

She cried. He kissed the tears into her cheeks.

“I love you,” he told her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

When his lips met hers, she could taste the salt of her despair on his tongue, but something else. Something that tasted of truth. Something delicious that filled her with hope.

She kissed him back.

Time sped up, the room spinning around them. He pulled off her dress and tore her bra. He laid on the carpet and kissed her face, her neck, her breasts, her navel, her penis and testicles. She moaned, real pleasure, as he worked his tongue around her foreskin in the way he knew could make her orgasm instantly and she did. Her semen was still in his mouth when he leaned in to kiss her. She played with the thick fluid on her tongue before he put his hand in her mouth and pulled away the saliva and ejaculate, cupping it in his fingers until he could push them up her ass. He followed with his cock, looking into her eyes as he thrust, her testicles rubbing against his stomach. She sighed as he entered her completely and fell in kisses to her shoulders. Her fingers slid against the sweat pouring over the muscles of his arms and neck. She moaned louder with every thrust.

His cock was harder than ever, she was sure of it. She was sure of many things: that she wanted to keep him, that she loved Isaac and he loved her; that he took care of her better than anyone had ever tried.

“Come inside me, baby,” she whispered. “I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

The force of his ejaculation pushed him into her and, momentarily, she couldn’t feel where he ended and she began and she wanted to keep this moment of the two of them becoming inseparable, so she held him tightly and didn’t breathe.

“I love you, Tiff,” Isaac exhaled into her body.

Somewhere safe, she heard her voice tell Isaac she loved him, too.



His palm left a wet imprint as he pushed the door. His heart thumped inside his jean jacket. The salty sweat smell of the room greeted him as he entered quickly, squeezing through the slight opening. Someone coughed. On the nearest wall, beneath a variety of letters in many sizes and colours, he read a message, black and bold: I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, followed by a phone number.

He knew what he wanted, too, and it wasn’t a number.

He stepped into the stall nearest the man who’d coughed. The second the door clicked shut, a hand appeared through the hole, beckoned him closer, and disappeared. Two fingers rested against the duct-taped circumference of the hole and a tongue flickered in and out over the fingers. He recoiled at the gesture, his shoulders back and feet beginning to retreat, but he approached slowly. He couldn’t be scared away.

The sound of his zipper lowering rang in his ears. He pressed the white cotton stretching against his semi-erect penis to the wall, near the hole, and wiggled his hips toward and away from the groping fingers and warm breath until the sigh of frustration on the other side of the wall nearly made his cock tear through the fabric. He was freed, now, and sent to the heavens of a hot, wet mouth, the tongue circling expertly around the head, the lips wet and soft against his hard dick- harder than he’d been since his last visit. Maybe harder, even.

He shuddered as he felt himself being swallowed, his blood-swollen flesh pressing against the softer lining of a throat. He tried to move his hips, his butt thrusting him forward, but the mouth knew what it was doing and fucked him back.

Then the action slowed and the mouth pulled away as fingers gently gripped the base of his dick. And the tongue came back, licking up and down, matching the rhythm of the stroking fingers. He stood still, mesmerised.

This just might be the best blowjob he’d ever gotten.

The movement quickly transitioned from stroking fingers to the inside of the throat and he groaned at the abrupt change of sensation. He felt his cock twitch inside of the mouth, down the phantom neck. His fingers pressed against his palm and he lifted his hand to the wall and rested it there as he began a frenzied thrusting, so quick and arrhythmic that the mouth couldn’t keep up. His mind empty, his testicles full, he fucked into the hole until the base of his spine tingled and he felt the warm, thick fluid of a long-awaited orgasm flow from himself and into the receptacle of this cock-sucking wraith that would cease to exist the moment he exited the room.

The choking brought him back and he pulled himself into his side of the hole and pushed through the door without pulling up his pants.

“What the fuck?” The voice was much deeper than his own. “You couldn’t even give a courtesy tap?”

He stumbled from the room, zipping his pants as he walked, head down, back to his car. He avoided the gaze of a man who raised his eyebrows at him.

They think they know. They always think they know.

He drove away from the truck stop as quickly as he could.


That night, he lay in bed next to his wife. As she snored, he considered maybe touching her back, waking her with a kiss on the neck. But his passion for her died shortly after the birth of their third child and the thought of pressing his skin to hers made his stomach hurt.

He turned his body away from her and closed his eyes. For the first night in months, he didn’t fight for sleep.


He almost fell out of bed at the sound of his alarm. His wife no longer lay next to him, already awake and making a nearly inedible breakfast he’d spent years training himself not to smell.

He showered and dressed quickly. Once downstairs, seeing his family seated around the table, he fought for the millionth time his urge to run away. To go anywhere else.

He kissed his daughters on the forehead and patted his son on the shoulder.

“Gotta go vote now or I’ll be late,” he said to his wife, blowing a kiss at her before running to the front door and out to his car.

The drive to his polling place took three minutes. There was no line. He stood in the booth, pen in hand, and looked at the names on the ballot.

“I wonder if Donald Trump ever goes to glory holes,” he considered. “No way. He doesn’t have to. Look at his wife!” He pressed the pen against the paper and marked his selection.

“I’d suck Donald Trump’s dick,” he thought.

He barely glanced at the rest of the ballot, the pen flying through his thoughts. He dropped his paper in the box and smiled at the old women working.

He drove away, to the vacation of his job, with his windows rolled down and radio as loud as his car’s speakers could manage.

“Got you in a stranglehold, baby,” he sang along. “You best get outta the way.”


Daddy’s Girl

Lucia sat on the steps of her home, looking into the street. She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. All of her friends were gone to college again: another summer’s end plagued with boredom and loneliness. It wasn’t as though her parents couldn’t afford to send her to college, but Daddy said she wasn’t ready. Just like she wasn’t ready to have a job or a license. Daddy paid for tutors and music and dance lessons to keep her busy, but the most invaluable thing- her freedom- was something he could not afford.

She watched two boys on bicycles ride closer to her house. Their torsos glistened with sweat and their long, thin arms absently guided their bikes as they casually swerved through the street toward her. She waved, though she didn’t recognise them from her neighbourhood. They stopped and walked the bikes onto the sidewalk, approaching her porch. Their legs were covered in mud and they filled the air near her with the scent of river water.

“Hey,” the smaller boy said as the taller of the two lifted his arm to scratch a hairless armpit. “You see the ice cream truck around here lately?”

“Not while I’ve been sitting here,” she answered. She smiled. Neither boy returned her smile.

“You got any cards?” the taller boy asked. “We wanna make our bikes loud.”

“Sorry,” she said. They shrugged and rode away without looking back.

“Who were those boys?”

She jumped and turned around. “Jesus, Daddy. I don’t know. Just some kids.” Her father raised an eyebrow and said nothing. “Daddy!” She looked away from his eyes. “They’re twelve. They wanted ice cream and playing cards.”

“Why don’t you come inside, Luci? It’s hot out.”

“It’s not that hot,” she said. She stood and followed him in.



The doorbell rang. Lucia lifted the remote to quickly turn off the television in the den before she ran upstairs. She looked in the mirror next to the door and reached up behind her head to tighten her ponytail. As she unlocked the door, she showed all of her teeth in a smile. “Mr Tomas,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good evening, Lucia.”

She moved aside to let him into the foyer and closed the door behind him. He stood and looked at her for a few seconds before asking, “Is your father home?”

She laughed. “Oh. I’m sorry, Mr Tomas. My parents went out for dinner. They left maybe half an hour ago. You’re welcome to wait.”

“No, I just needed to drop off some paperwork. I can leave it with you and come back tomorrow to speak with him.”

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” Lucia said, still smiling. He smiled back.

“You’re very beautiful tonight, Lucia. You didn’t want to have dinner with your mother and father?”

“I’d rather watch TV,” she admitted, gesturing into the house.

“No college again this year?”

She shook her head. “Maybe next year,” she answered.

“By the time you’re ready to go back to school, your friends will all have graduated!” he exclaimed. She turned her head away from him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Maybe for the spring semester?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ll tell Daddy you were here.” She moved toward the door and he moved with her. As she closed the door behind him, she felt her eyes fill with tears. She wiped at her face with the backs of her hands and sighed. So Daddy was telling his partners it was her choice not to go to University? It wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t even let her apply.

The doorbell rang again. She stared at the door, then walked toward it and opened it slowly. Mr Tomas stood with his hands behind his back.

“You’re a bright girl, Lucia,” he said, smiling into her widened eyes. “Your future will outshine you.” He revealed in both hands a single rose. He’d pulled it from Mrs Grosch’s garden, she could tell. She reached up to grab it and a thorn stabbed her thumb. Putting the finger in her mouth, she lifted her other hand and carefully held the stem of the rose. For a second, he didn’t let go. Then she slowly and gently tugged the rose toward her chest and he dropped his hands. “Goodnight, Lucia. It was wonderful to see you.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head and walked toward his car. She stared after him until the car drove away, then she shut the door.

She realised she was breathing quickly and laughed. Mr Tomas was always so nice. She walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed a small vase from beneath the sink, then carried the flower to her bedroom. She placed the flower in the vase in the middle of her nightstand and ran downstairs to the den. She collapsed on the couch and reached for the remote. The television coated the room in a soft blue dim. She tried to watch the show but her mind could only focus on Mr Tomas. Had he ever kissed her before? Of course he had. The year his wife died, he’d spent that Christmas with them and she was certain he’d given her a peck on the forehead that evening before her father made her go to bed.

Mr Tomas was old, but he wasn’t as old as Daddy. And Daddy was always telling Mum about Mr Tomas’s girlfriends- not a long series of women since Mrs Tomas died, but a pretty consistent presence. He wasn’t bad-looking. He took good care of himself, she knew.

She lifted her dress and pressed her fingers against her panties. Pushing her hand hard against her crotch, she lied down on the couch, facing the back, and began thrusting her hips into the cushion, pressing hard against herself. She thought of Mr Tomas handing her the rose, of his lips against her hair, of his fingers against her breasts… Her eyelids squeezed together and she bit her lip. She humped harder and her heavy breathing made the couch around her hotter and she suddenly convulsed twice and lay still.

She turned around to face the TV and pulled her dress to her knees. Her eyelids fluttered at the screen. Seconds later, she was asleep.


“Honey. Luci, honey.” Her mother’s fingers rubbed her calf. She woke up slowly, her eyes focused on the halo of light above her mother’s head.

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” she said. She sat up. “Did you and Daddy have a good dinner?”

Her mother nodded. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” She walked to the TV stand and pushed the button on the side of the set. The screen went black.

They walked upstairs together, slowly, not speaking. Lucia considered saying something, but she couldn’t think of what to say. She could never start a conversation with Mum. Mum never spoke- not much at all to anyone but Daddy.

He waited for her with a small pink box wrapped with a red bow. “Brought you dessert, Luci,” he said.

She squealed. “Thank you, Daddy!” She walked to the kitchen sink and grabbed a fork, then sat at the bar and unwrapped her dessert .

“Did you have dinner?” he asked her.

“I ate a sandwich,” she lied. “How was your dinner? Oh! Mr Tomas stopped by.” She licked cream from the tongs. “I think it was about 7:30. He had paperwork, he said. He’ll stop by at the same time tomorrow.”

“Yes, he called me,” he replied. “He left a voicemail and asked about you going to college.”

She licked the fork again. “Well, you said I wasn’t ready,” she answered.

“And what did you say to Mr Tomas about it?”

“He said maybe I’d be ready for the spring. I agreed.”

Her father walked out of the kitchen silently. She continued to eat the pastry as she watched Mum look in the sink and dishwasher, open a cabinet, and finally follow Daddy out of the room. Would Mr Tomas talk Daddy into letting her go to college? That would be a dream. Maybe he’d fall in love with her and take her out of here. Daddy trusted Mr Tomas enough to share a company with him. Mr Tomas stayed in their guest room on several holidays. She was allowed to speak to Mr Tomas. So Daddy couldn’t distrust him. And he’d said: she was bright. Maybe he could tell she was suffocating here.

She finished her dessert, licking the cream from the gold platter that held it. After putting the fork in the dishwasher, she ran upstairs to her room. In the drawer of her nightstand was a pad and pencil and she lay across the bed on her stomach and began to draw.

She drew for hours, lost in her head, until her father came into the room.

“Your mother and I have told you many times we don’t like you falling asleep in front of the television,” he said, sitting at the end of her mattress.

“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy.” She wiggled until she was on her back, then sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, sitting on top of the pad and pencil.

“Where’d you get that rose?” He gestured toward the nightstand.

“Mrs Grosch’s garden.”

He nodded slowly. “It isn’t right for you to pick the flowers other people worked so hard to blossom. We’ve talked about that, too. It’s very rude and lazy.”

“I won’t do it again.” The sentence came out as one word.

“I know you won’t. And the next time your mother or I catch you sleeping downstairs, you will lose your den privileges. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Daddy.”

“Get ready for bed and I’ll be in shortly to tuck you in.”

When he left the room, she pushed the pad and pencil into the nightstand and went to brush her teeth. After undressing in the bathroom and putting on her nightshirt, she crawled beneath her blankets and waited. Her father came in several minutes later, unplugged her night light, bent over her bed, and kissed her on the cheek. It was a routine they’d had for as long as she could remember. Every night he was home.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said.

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

Every night was the same.


When she awoke the next day- Saturday- she was remarkably restless. Her afternoon piano lesson was interminable. Her teacher rapped her fingers so often, she felt arthritic in the evening. She wore her favourite dress and braided her hair and when the grandfather clock in their living room indicated it was 7 PM, she was sitting on the couch next to her mother, watching her knit and eating a croissant.

“Lucia,” her mother said, looking at her over the needles. “If you get crumbs in that chair, I will see to it you never sit again.”

“I have a napkin, Mum. And I’m not dropping anything.”

Her mother returned to knitting without responding.

“Are you making a scarf?” Her mother shook her head. “Socks? A shawl? A hat? A sweater?” Her mother nodded and held the needles up toward Lucia, but she did not raise her eyes.

Lucia finished her snack and moved to toss the napkin when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” she announced loudly. The napkin still folded against her palm, she met her father at the door.

“Throw that away,” he said as he opened the door to his business associate. Her shoulders sunk and she watched her feet as she walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, her lower lip protruded. He never even let her answer the door when he was home. She thought about how much she hated the house as Daddy walked Mr Tomas into the kitchen.

“Lucia, please grab Mr Tomas a beer.”

Lucia moved quickly toward the refrigerator, not meeting either of their gazes. “Do you want one, too, Daddy?” she asked as she grabbed a beer.

“Sure, Princess,” he answered.

She removed two beers from the door and placed them on coasters on the bar in front of her father.

“Good evening.” She smiled up at Mr Tomas as her father set a pile of papers on the counter.

“She is always so polite,” he responded, looking at her father then at her. “Good evening, Lucia. Thank you for the beer.”

“Let’s sit in the living room,” her father suggested, crossing through the hallway without bothering to check if he was being followed. Lucia’s mother stood as they entered the room.

“Oh, Gregg,” she said, grabbing Mr Tomas’ hand. “How nice to see you.”

“Always a pleasure, Helen.”

She sat and resumed knitting. Lucia sat at her feet and pretended to watch her. Daddy and Mr Tomas sat in chairs facing each other and began to talk about business. She watched Mr Tomas from the sides of her eyes, trying to catch him looking at her, but he never did. It was all her stupid imagination, her desperation for freedom. Mr Tomas was just a nice guy. Why would he be interested in her? She was young and she didn’t know anything.

But he’d said she was bright.

Lucia waited until Daddy’d finished his important meeting, then offered to dispose of their beer bottles. She hoped this would work, but she knew it might not. That she could get in a lot of trouble didn’t terrify her enough to deter her. As she grabbed the bottle from Mr Tomas, she slipped a piece of paper into his hand and walked away.

In the kitchen, after rinsing the bottles and noiselessly placing them in the recycling bin, she allowed herself to breathe.

Please don’t tell Daddy.

She counted slowly to 90 and, when not hearing either of her parents calling after her, she returned to the living room and sat next to her mother on the couch. Mr Tomas was standing to leave and her father stood with him. Her mother tried to rise but Mr Tomas motioned for her to stay seated. “Lovely to see you again, Helen. Lucia. Have a good night.” The two men disappeared into a corridor. Lucia stood and went to her room.


Gregg Tomas sat in his car and unfolded the sheet of paper Lucia’d handed him. The creases were grey and slightly damp but the paper straightened without tearing.

It was a drawing of him holding out a rose. The detail and artistry made him blink rapidly and he placed the paper on the passenger seat before turning the ignition and driving away.

Lucia watched as well as she could from the window. When the car pulled off, she sat on her bed and started trying to draft a letter. She moved around the room, thinking of what she needed to say and what she wanted him to do.

She went through several dozen drafts before her father walked into the room.

“Your mum says you got croissant crumbs in the chair cushions,” he said.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, the pad open in her lap. She closed it and looked up at him. “I used a napkin, I promise.”

“She asks that you not eat in the living room.”

“I won’t eat in the living room anymore, Daddy.”

“Particularly not when we’re having guests.”

“I understand.”

“Time for bed, Princess.”

She was in and out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. Her father sat waiting for her on her bed when she returned to her bedroom.

“I’ll get the light,” he said. “I love you, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

But it would be impossible for Lucia to sleep.

She knew exactly what to say.


Gregg Tomas visited the Venns once a week. He had a partially legitimate reason- they were considering taking on another partner- so he spent a lot of time discussing possible temporary salary decreases as he tried to watch Lucia.

They wrote so many letters. Lucia was passionate, but the risk excited Gregg just as much. It made him feel younger; the nostalgia of a relationship he’d maybe read about- or seen somewhere, anyway- but certainly never had. She’d once pressed against him in a brief, wild embrace and it moved his heart more than his cock, but she was a beautiful young girl. Talented, and with such imagination. Sheltered, for certain. Often too enchanted by her own fantasies.

So it surprised him, though it shouldn’t have, when he came by on a Thursday evening and her parents weren’t home- though he remembered William mentioning the benefit that night- and Lucia threw herself at him. Literally hurled her body into his, her mouth demanding to be kissed, and he submitted. When she took his hands and guided them into the pink oversized sweater she wore, he felt there was nothing beneath, and he yanked her away and looked at her.

She was ready.

He was ready, too. She’d manage to move both his heart and his cock, this time. As one worked to fill the other, he carried her into the kitchen and laid her down on the bar, first placing his head between her legs and she gyrated against his face until the stubble irritated her, and he fucked her there and she was mostly silent, but she bit her lip and stared up at him the whole time. It was too much; he came too fast.

Then she admitted she was a virgin, which was another shocking surprise. And he asked if she came, and she told him she hadn’t. He promised to come back and repay the favour, feeling guilt but also not certain when William and Helen would be home. Then she kissed him again and wrapped her legs around his waist and his fingers were inside of her and she humped against him until the shock of her orgasm went through her and he had to hold her up so they didn’t both fall.

Gregg kept coming back. And any time she was alone, they’d go to the den and make love on the sofa. She tried to learn his body, but she was too inexperienced, and he’d rather his patience go to learning hers.

Their letters got heavier and their meetings wilder. He knew she was falling in love with him and, though he’d anticipated it, he was not quite ready to deal with the repercussions. The outcome, he knew, would damage some relationship. He wasn’t sure which one, yet.

So he tried to delay.


William Venn sat on his sofa, flipping through the channels on the television. Trying to get tired enough to sleep. His fingers dug absently in the cushions and he felt a piece of paper. When he realised what he held, he carefully pulled it out. He unfolded the creases and read.

Then he read it again.

He felt nauseous. He recognised the handwriting immediately: it was Gregg’s. But why would he write these things? And why would it be in his house?

William stood. He walked from the den to the garage, got in his car, and drove away.


When Gregg Tomas opened his door the next morning, William stood there.

“We need to talk,” William said, pushing his way into the house. Gregg closed the door and followed William into his living room. “Why Helen? Of all the women? Is it because I don’t think you should take a bigger percentage?”

“What are you talking about?” Gregg asked, his forehead wrinkled and arms out, palms up, toward William.

William pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “‘My sweet flower,'” he read. Gregg’s mouth opened and closed. “‘The next time your petals open for me, I will pick your fruit. You will be open to me through all seasons and I will care for you as the treasure you are-‘ Gregg, this is just bullshit. What woman falls for this?”

“Look. William. I can explain.”

“Why my wife, Gregg?” William put the letter back into his pocket and folded his arms.

“I’m not having a relationship with Helen!” Gregg said, his voice only slightly elevated. “It’s Lucia, alright? I’ve been seeing Lucia.”

William stepped back, almost tripping on his own feet. “My baby Luci?”

“Your daughter, yes. Not your wife. Look, I’m sorry-”

“She’s just a child,” William interrupted.

“She’s an adult, William. She’s a young woman.”

“She’s my princess!” William’s eyes grew wider as the context of the letter grew more real to him. “You pig!” He lunged at Gregg suddenly, who struck out and missed. William kneed him in the stomach and punched him in the jaw. His knuckles throbbed the moment they made contact, but he pounded both his fists into Gregg’s back and when Gregg managed to pull him down, William swung his legs away and ended up on top of him. He poked his thumbs into his eyes and tried to press down, but Gregg began kicking wildly and screaming, so William wrapped his hands around his throat and Gregg tried to pull at his wrists but William held on tighter. He felt Gregg’s body go heavy beneath him after what felt like an eternity, but he couldn’t stop holding the throat, spitting onto Gregg’s face in rage.

William finally stood and howled, then drove the heel of his foot repeatedly into Gregg’s crotch until he fell on top of him.

He turned and looked into Gregg’s bloody face and knew he was dead and that didn’t change what Gregg did to his baby girl, to his Princess.  And he walked out of the front door and closed it, looking at the blood on the doorknob. He got in his car and took a deep breath. He drove away, toward the river, and when he got there, he kept driving.


Her mother came into her room, her footsteps and breathing preceding her physical presence so that Lucia was already alert, standing, the moment she stepped through the doorway.

“Daddy and Mr Tomas are… they’re… they are-”


“They’re dead!” The grief escaped the word through Helen Venn like a tornado and she left the room weeping. Lucia stood, her mouth open, knowing what it meant but not understanding.



Lucia’s mother sent her to college but the very first year, she met Roger and Roger was definitely too quick to marry her- he met her mother for the first time at the wedding- and insisted she drop out. So she did, and she was happy for a while because her life felt almost like it’d gone back to normal and she could really breathe.

And she loved Roger, she still really did. Even though the reason she’d loved him so much initially (he didn’t ask any questions about her life before meeting him) was what drove her mad today. They’d been married four years and she bet he didn’t even know her favourite colour. In fact, she knew he didn’t; she’d mentioned it in this argument and he’d responded with, “That is the dullest thing anyone could possibly know about another person.”

“I just feel like you don’t fucking hear me!” she exploded.

Her eyes grew wide slowly and her mouth dropped open. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“Lucia Martin, we do not speak that way in this house. Go upstairs and wait for me.”

She ascended the stairway as slowly as she could and walked to the bathroom like a zombie. Once in the bathroom, she undressed, folding each item of clothing as it came off, and bent over with her face on the counter facing the sink.

Roger came in after her, looking at his reflection in the mirror, then hers, then her. As she lay with her face against the counter, she took a deep breath. He turned on the water and lathered up his hands. Then he pressed himself against her and said, “Open.” She opened her mouth and he shoved a soapy hand inside. She tried not to bite him. She’d bitten him the first time and it made him very angry. She tried not to choke and accidentally swallow the soap. She swallowed a lot last time and it made her very sick.

Lucia tasted the soap on his fingers as they moved inside her mouth, trying to rub against every surface. He looked down at her, never glancing away. Behind her, she heard his pants unzip and the tip of his cock- always impossibly rigid- pressed against her pussy and as he slid inside her, she did choke a little and he removed the fingers individually and told her, “Spit,” pushing her head toward the sink. She spat into the large ceramic bowl. He turned on the water, the rhythm of his hips still pushing his dick into her, and lathered his hands with liquid soap once more. He shoved his right hand into her mouth and held her head to the sink with his left, fucking her harder, bringing his dick out of her as far as possible without popping out, and driving it back in with as much force as his body could manage. She moaned against his fingers, her tongue constantly moving to avoid biting him.

He spat on her face. “If you’re going to speak like filth, I will treat you like filth,” he said. Shifting his weight to his left hand, he pushed his right hand into her mouth as far as it could fit and leaned into her, his hips moving faster. She started to choke and he pulled his hand out of her mouth, pushing her face toward the sink where she lay and drooled until he grabbed her hips and began to pull her into him as fast as he could push into her and she couldn’t stay on the sink anymore and she tried to push her ass into him as quickly as he was pulling her waist and she leaned back into him as he came inside her. They took a couple of heavy breaths and he pushed her back onto the sink.

“Lucia,” he said. “I love you. Especially you. I married you. So don’t bother me with this nonsense of calculating it or putting it into categories. And I won’t keep telling you to watch your language in this house.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Take a shower,” he said. He buttoned his pants and walked into the hallway.

She turned on the water and sat on the toilet, rubbing the mark the sink left in her stomach. She tried to wipe the soapy spit from her face, then reached into the tub to feel that the water was warm. She stepped into the stream and put her face beneath it and didn’t breathe for 30 seconds.

She knew he’d have a gift for her tomorrow and wondered what it’d be. This was the true test of how much he paid attention to her. In a way, he did love her just as much as her father had. Why else would she marry him?

Daddy’s Girl


His fingers hovered over the keys as he cupped his flaccid penis in his left hand. As he tried to phrase his next message, he absently pulled against the flesh, rubbing his thumb against the vein as it filled with blood. His fingers moved against the keys and his hand actively stroked.

He stared into the screen. His shoulders leaned over the keyboard. His hand moved faster as he pulled it toward his face. His right finger pushed against his taint. He moved forward until his thighs were supporting his body and lifted his chin to gaze into his laptop. He stared into the nipples of the breasts that gazed back at him. His hips pushed against his hand as he balanced his body against the metal of the desk, still pulling at his now impractically erect penis. The laptop chirped. The message, juxtaposed perfectly beneath a pubic mound, made him moan. His hand worked faster, tightening gently. The pattern of his breathing grew erratic. His right thumb moved backward and up, penetrating his anus as warm white fluid spilled into his left hand.

He looked around for something to clean his hands. Semen clung to his fingers, threatening to drop to the carpet beneath his feet. A t-shirt lay behind him. He could smell the sweat before he’d lifted it. Carefully, he cleaned between his fingers, wrapped the cloth around his thumb, and yanked it as he tossed it back to the floor.

The laptop chirped again. His body turned away from the soiled shirt as he hurried to the office chair.

Fuck. She wanted to meet.

It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested it. They’d talked for months online. She was eager to move forward, to see him in person. They’d spoken on the phone twice, but he was too nervous to maintain a conversation. The chats were brief.

He couldn’t think of another excuse, another reason to hold off on what she felt was an inevitable physical introduction.

And she wanted to meet tomorrow.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. He couldn’t afford to take her out, and he certainly wasn’t ready to explain why he still lived with his mother- a conversation he avoided having even with himself. She was beautiful and young and so far out of his league. He wanted to continue the fantasy. He wanted her to keep her interest in him.

Another chirp. He read the message. Then read it again.

“Just come over.”



He inhaled and began to cough. His hands shaking, he slowly typed an agreement. They said their goodbyes, and he slammed the laptop shut.

He turned off the light and crawled onto his mattress. He wasn’t ready for this. For the disappointment, for her to leave his life. But maybe it wouldn’t end that way. He could clean up well enough; he wasn’t a bad-looking guy. The photos on his dating profile weren’t recent, but they were of him. And he could continue to avoid discussing his personal life, it was a skill he’d mastered. Hopeful, he turned on his side. He was asleep the moment his eyes closed.


The next afternoon, he left the house before his mother could ask where he was going. He’d printed directions on her computer, careful to delete her browsing history. In his car- old and rusty, but his- he took a few deep breaths before driving off to meet this girl that felt like his destiny. The panic and self-doubt of the previous night were gone completely. If anyone could understand him, he was sure it would be her. They’d spent so much of the last few months having conversations until sunrise. He felt a connection with her he’d not felt with anyone since high school.

Driving, he rubbed his palm against the denim tightening at his crotch. Why had he waited so long? Here was a sure thing. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had sex. He remembered the name of the woman, her face, her body- but not her smell, the feel of her skin, what it was like to lie next to her. He needed a woman. Badly.

He glanced at the piece of paper, kicking himself for not being able to afford a phone with a GPS or decent internet access. It would take him an hour and a half to reach her house. He lifted the paper from the passenger seat and tried to memorise the directions as he briefly checked traffic, not wanting to accidentally hit a car and ruin this day completely. Once confident, he tossed the paper back onto the seat and brought both hands to the steering wheel.

He could recall her with his eyes open. He couldn’t wait to smell her, touch her, taste her. His pants felt tight again. His eyes focused on the car ahead of him as he unzipped his jeans and fumbled through the seatbelt to release his erection. He gripped the base in his left hand, pointing the head at the steering wheel. His thumb slowly stroked the vein. He imagined her sitting on his lap, back arched against the steering wheel, her hips pushing as she rode him and looked into his eyes.

He couldn’t wait to be with her.

As he approached her house, the amount of cars sharing the road with him thinned dramatically. He could focus more on what he’d say, what she’d do, without worrying he’d crash. With more practise came increased confidence. He nodded frequently at his own thoughts and intermittently moved his hand to his zipper to adjust himself.

The last turn pulled him off of the road and onto a dirt path. She’d mentioned living in the middle of nowhere, but he had no idea he was meant to take that so seriously. The dirt was well-paved and he hoped it’d stay that way, or his poor old car would never make it. She didn’t live so far out that Mapquest couldn’t find her house. His car should be fine.

He finally arrived. It was a house, not a cabin. The driveway was concrete, and he winced as his car bumped onto the pavement. His eye caught movement in the window. He made himself take a deep breath and count to ten before exiting his vehicle. He smiled as he got out of the car and saw the curtains move once again.

The front door was open. He stepped inside and heard her giggle. Before he could turn around, the full weight of her body against his back almost toppled him over.

“Boo!” she said. She giggled. Lips pressed against his ear, her voice sounded exactly as it had on the phone. He tried to turn his head. Her fingers pulled satin over his eyes. He couldn’t see.

“We’re playing this game?” he asked. His voice sounded too deep. It echoed through him. She’d mentioned wanting to blindfold him many times.

“I’ll take it off when we get to the bedroom, I promise,” she said. She pulled herself to the floor and took his hand. Her fingers felt small and fragile. They slid around in his wet palm.

“Can’t I see you first?”

“Didn’t you see me? Don’t ruin the fun.” He could tell she was pouting. She grabbed his arms and pushed him a little. He tripped backward into her. “Come on. I’ll guide you.” He walked forward slowly. Her fingers gripped his arms, but not tightly. He could hear her breathing. “Stop!” she said suddenly. “We’re at the stairs. Take it slow.”

He lifted his foot onto the first step. “I’ve been waiting so long for this,” she whispered behind him. “I can’t wait to get you upstairs. For you to see me. Take my clothes off. Kiss every inch of my body.” As he slowly ascended, her fingers travelled, touching him everywhere. He felt light-headed and stumbled backward into her, but her arms were at his back. She adjusted his body and he took the next step. She laughed. “We’re almost there. Three more steps.”

At the last step, she helped him onto the landing and turned his body to the right. She grabbed his hand and pulled him as she ran forward. He tripped into a wall and tried to push the blindfold from his eyes.

“No peeking! We’re… there!” She pushed him into a room and closed the door behind them. Her hands exposed his penis before he could get the blindfold off. Her tongue licked the tip as he saw her…

But it wasn’t her.

This wasn’t the right girl.

She was beautiful, her mouth and hands working at his penis. He backed into the wall, still looking at her, as the flesh filled with blood. He looked up.

“What the fuck?!”

The woman that knelt before him quickly stood and started to laugh. She grabbed something from the corner and hid it behind her back. He turned to the door and pulled. It didn’t open. His eyes searched for the lock, forced to settle on a keyhole.

“I’ve got the key and there’s only one way out,” the woman sang.

“This is sick.” He pulled the door harder, then pushed his back against it.

He stared at the woman from all of the photos. The one he thought he’d developed a relationship with. Her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to the bars of a metal headboard and footboard. Her body was spread naked across an uncovered mattress, a ball gag in her mouth. Her eyes stared blankly at him.

“This is fucked up,” he said. “Let me go.”

The woman approached him and pushed her body against his. She yanked his jeans down with one hand. He yanked away from her and tripped. She laughed as he slid on the ground, trying to stand.

“You can go when you fuck my daughter.” She knelt down and climbed on top of him, spitting into her hand. “How long have you thought about it,” she whispered into his ear as she grabbed his cock between her legs and began to massage it. “How many nights have you spent touching yourself to her curves? That’s why you’re here, right? I just want you to get what you came for. It feels like you want it to me.”

“Get the fuck off me!” He pushed her and tried to cover his erection. His fingers grabbed the top of his jeans. She stood above him, her eyes wide, then grinned as she revealed a metal rod from behind her and pressed it into his thigh.

His howl drowned out the sound of the electricity. She smiled at him.

“Please let me go home,” he whimpered.

“When we both have what we’re here for, you can go home. Or I can keep zapping you. Which would you prefer?” She pointed the cattle prod at him. He winced. “Stand up,” she said. She pointed the cattle prod at the bed. His feet caught in the pants legs, he managed to stand. “You’re going to make her feel like you don’t want her. And trust me,” she said as she knelt before him once again, placing the rod between her knees and grabbing his cock and balls in both hands. “I know you do.” She worked her hand up the length of his dick and looked up at him as she opened her mouth and tilted her head to the side. With a slurping noise, she worked both testicles into her jaw and twisted her wrist, moving her hand faster.

“Unhhhhh,” he groaned, trying to pull away from her and closer to her simultaneously.

“Not for me,” she said. She stood, holding the cattle prod, and motioned toward the bed. “Save it for her.”

He shuffled toward the bed. The girl still lay there, unmoving. Her eyes followed his body. The ball gag glistened with saliva. He climbed between her open legs, holding his dick in his hand, and moved to work it into her.

“Take your time.”

The girl on the bed stared up at him as he dragged his fingers slowly between her legs. He moved to her stomach, then her breasts. Her skin felt so soft beneath his damp hands. She didn’t move, but her eyes never stopped looking at him. Between his own legs, his penis twitched. His fingers moved toward her mouth.

“Don’t touch that.”

His hand jerked away, and rested on her breast. He rubbed one nipple, then the other. He thought of the months he’d spent imagining the taste of her and lowered his head to take one in his mouth. His left hand lingered between her legs. He moved his fingers closer slowly, until two were inside of her. He pulled them out. They were wet. He pushed them back into her again, slow. He kissed her armpit, inhaling the smell of her. He’d wanted her- needed her- but not like this. Well, maybe like this. His tongue moved from her side back to her breast. His fingers worked faster inside of her. He thought of the late night messages. The phone calls. The flirting, the revealing. The photos.

Before he realised what he was doing, his hands were on her shoulders and his cock was inside of her. She felt wet and warm and soft and fit around him like there was nowhere else for him to go. He looked down at her and she was staring up at him and her eyes looked as though she loved him and he felt that she was moving with him, pulling him into her. She didn’t blink.

“Fuck… fuck yes.” He moaned. He wrapped his arm around her head and brought his body closer to her, pressing against her as he moved his hips into hers. His movements were quick and desperate. His t-shirt, completely soaked, clung to his torso, and he could feel his jeans wrapped around his ankles. His naked butt tensed with every pump.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “I love you.” He kissed her neck and moved his hands to her hips. He positioned himself to look down at his cock as he drove it in and out of her pussy, then collapsed once more on top of her, unable to support them both, and he could tell the woman was approaching him from behind, but he couldn’t pull away from the tight,wet pussy of this girl he- yes, he felt, truly- loved. A shadow crossed over him and he felt the woman’s wet fingers slowly enter his asshole and he didn’t care about anything else. Burying his face into the girl’s neck, he humped into her furiously until that fury exploded from him and she tightened around him as it did and his butt clenched and, in a spasm, the weight of his body fell onto her.

The woman stepped back and he pulled away from the girl, whose expression hadn’t changed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to her. His shirt rose and fell with his chest as he stood and turned to the woman smiling behind him. “Please let me go. Please. I didn’t- I just want to go.”

“I lied!” The woman grinned as she pressed the cattle prod into his skin and he fell to the floor, writhing. She zapped him again and his body jerked. She zapped him a few more times until he stopped moving.

Quickly, the woman moved to the side of the bed and pulled a key from her pocket. She freed the wrist closest to her from the handcuffs and handed the girl the keys. The girl moved to free her other wrist, then yanked the ball gag from her head.

“You have the weirdest fucking turn-ons, Marianne,” she said. She bent at the waist to free her ankles. “Get the masks and the bottle; he’s not going to lie there forever.”

Marianne zapped him again and moved toward the closet. She came back with two N95 masks, a hood, and a spray bottle. She tossed one of the masks onto the bed and pulled the other over her head. She zapped the man again as he tried to push himself up.

“Get dressed quick, Reese,” Marianne said. Reese placed the mask over her face. As she grabbed a dress from beneath the bed, clear liquid dripped onto her thigh.

Marianne zapped the man again as she pulled the hood onto his head and pointed the bottle at him. She sprayed feverishly until he went limp, then tossed another key at Reese.

“Open the door. Quick. And the window. Help me undress him.”


And he was awake, his arms sore and head heavy. His vision was blurry, but it was dark. A bright flash startled him and he focused his vision only to see he was facing a crowd of people, their cell phones pointed at him.

He knew he was naked before he could look down. He shivered. His arms were above his head and when he tried to lower them, he realised they were tied.

His head ached, but he managed to move it enough to see that he was hanging by his arms and legs to a streetlamp.

“Alright!” cried a police officer. The sea of people parted to let the emergency respond team through.

“One hell of a tie job,” said another officer. He looked closely at the man’s chest. “Loverboy,” he read. “Well, you pissed someone off. Wanna tell us how you got here?”


The Family

Dale stepped into the house behind his father and closed the door quietly. He immediately removed his shoes behind the door and left them behind in a pile of discarded sandals and sneakers. He didn’t visit his aunt very often, but everyone knew her rule: no one wears shoes in her house. He didn’t really like visiting his dad’s side of the family, but this was an important reunion or something.

They walked into the kitchen- much bigger than his dad’s. He wondered how he felt about that.

“Oh, Tom!” His aunt appeared before them like a magician through a cloud of smoke. She pulled Dale into her perfume. “Dale, I haven’t seen you in years. You’re not a little boy anymore!”

Dale coughed and stepped away. “Hey, Aunt Suzie.”

“The kids are out back, why don’t you go out there? Tom, can I get you a beer?” She turned toward the refrigerator.

“I quit three years ago.” Tom held up his hand. Dale didn’t want to hear this conversation again. He walked through the house until he found a sliding glass door. Some people around his age sat at a table holding red cups. Some kids jumped on a trampoline. Dale didn’t remember if this was the same house Aunt Suzie’d always had. He was too embarrassed to ask. Through the eyes of his older self, the house was too nice for anyone his dad was related to. He’d liked to have spent more time there.

But his dad’s side of the family was kind of weird.

The ones sitting at the table seemed alright, though. A little bored. He sat next to a girl who held her head in the palm of her right hand. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she was wearing a striped tank top and jean shorts. She looked at him from the sides of her eyes and didn’t speak.

“Hey, what’s everybody doing here?” Dale asked, trying to keep his voice slow and soft.

The girl turned to him. “Everyone here has already tried to make conversation but no one really wants to talk,” she said. She took a long, loud sip from her cup. Her eyes were dark and clever. He tried to think of what to do, what to say. He turned to the rest of the table.

“I’m Dale,” he said. “Who are all of you? I guess we’re all family. I recognise you, Jason.”

Jason nodded his head once and smirked.

“I’m Deb,” a girl whose eyes were too close to her nose spoke. Dale smiled at her.

“Tracy,” another girl answered.

“I’m Nick,” the guy sitting across from him said.

“Tanya.” The girl sitting next to Nick reached across the table and offered her hand to Dale. He shook it. Her hair was in pigtails and barrettes. She was the youngest at the table, definitely. Probably still in junior high. Dale remembered being that kid at his mom’s family gatherings. He hated being that kid.

“And who are you?” Dale turned back to the girl sitting next to him.

She scoffed. “You’re at my mom’s house. I’m Jenny.”

“You don’t look at all how I remember you,” Dale said.

She rolled her eyes.

“So, why are we all here?”

Jenny inhaled. “You don’t even know that?!” She sighed and her shoulders fell forward. “I just came home from my first year at college. I didn’t come home for any of the holidays, so my mother is throwing me this belated birthday party.” She raised her middle and index fingers with the last three words and bent them.

“She made delicious brownies,” Tanya said. “Did you get one?”

“I’ll have to do that later,” Dale answered. “It’s pretty damn hot. Don’t you guys have a hose or anything?”

“I think there’s a kiddie pool and a Slip ‘n’ Slide in the garage,” Jenny answered. “But nobody brought swimsuits.”

“It’s not like we’re all going to fit in a kiddie pool, anyway,” Nick said.

“But the kids might like it,” Tracy replied. “And we could get some time on the trampoline.”

“And our clothes will dry if we use the Slip ‘n’ Slide now. And it’s better that way, trust me,” Dale said. “Why don’t we go get them? I’ll help you.”

Jenny sighed again.

“Please?” Tanya asked.

Jenny stood. Dale followed her.

They walked across the yard and through a gate. Once they were on the side of the house, Dale asked, “So, what are you studying in college?”

“I’m an English major,” she answered. “Are you in college?”

“I thought about it, I think about it. But I don’t know what I’d study.” He stopped walking. She turned.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just thinking… you’ve got a hot ass.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice was loud.

“Oh, what. Like you don’t know?”

“That’s fucking gross. You’re my cousin.”

“Whatever, barely. I don’t even know you.”

She laughed. “That’s supposed to make it better?”

“Maybe. Besides, if you were really family, you’d return the compliment. Or are you saying I don’t have a cute ass?” He turned around and exposed his butt to her, shaking it and moving backward toward her. Her laugh was more relaxed. He pulled up his pants and turned around. “You didn’t do anything crazy in college?”

“Like fuck my cousin? No.”

He stepped closer. “Be honest- did you know who I was before I told you?”

She shook her head. “But I know who you are now.”

He took another step. She stepped backward toward the side of the house. “But if you didn’t?” he asked.

“But I do.”

“But if you didn’t?” He pressed his body against hers until her back hit the house.

“But I do,” she insisted.

“But,” he kissed her neck. “Imagine if you were wrong.” He unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down with both hands. She wore a thong. He moved his face back to her neck and pulled the fabric aside with his right hand, the fingers of his left hand moving up her stomach beneath her tank top. He grinned into her flesh as she moaned and bit her gently, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his knees. He pushed his waist beneath her.

“Wait- oh god,” she whispered as the tip of his dick slid inside of her.

“Yeah?” he growled. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he pulled them both up and pushed her against the wall. She started to moan and he pressed his right palm against her lips. The grass felt sharp through his socks. His eyes closed, he humped into her, trying to keep her body firm against the wall. His pace increased. Her tongue flicked his hand and he fucked her faster and harder and the pressure in the base of his spine made his knees buckle and he almost dropped her, but caught himself at the last moment.

“Oh my god,” a man’s voice said. Their heads both snapped back.

“Uncle Ke-” Jenny started.

“Don’t. Both of you, right now. Get dressed and come with me.”

They pulled on their clothes quickly, not looking at each other, and followed him into the house. The adults all stopped and looked at them. The man held their shoulders.

“I just caught ’em doin’ it,” he said.

“What?” Suzie exhaled. Tom didn’t speak.

“Isn’t it true?” the man asked. He gripped their shoulders so hard, Jenny winced. She started to cry.

Suzie opened a drawer in the kitchen and said, “Go in the living room.” The man escorted them. Suzie followed, carrying a roll of duct tape. She angrily ripped off a piece and slammed it over Jenny’s mouth. Startled, Jenny fell.

“Hey, what the-” The man punched Dale in the mouth before he could finish. When he was on the floor, he kicked him in the ribs. Suzie ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll and handed it to the man, who rubbed it onto Dale’s face.

Tom entered the room with another man who held rope. Jenny tried to fight back, but Suzie swung her hand back against the side of her face with incredible force. Jenny sobbed wet into the duct tape. The men carried their bodies, tied and silenced, outside to the cars.

“Let me grab something,” Suzie said as she ran back into the house. When she came out minutes later, she held a half-full needle of clear liquid. She stuck the needle into Jenny’s arm, pressed the plunger slightly, then extracted it and emptied the rest into Dale.

Dale looked at his father. His father looked away. Dale closed his eyes.


When Dale’s eyes opened, he was naked and sticky. His arms were behind his back, and his shoulders hurt. When he tried to move, he heard clanging. He realised he was chained. He could still feel the duct tape over his mouth. His hair was wet and his eyes stung. Everything smelled like raw meat and sweat.

“He’s awake, now,” he heard a voice say. A light flashed overhead in his direction. He tried to get to his knees. He looked down and saw the unmistakable red-brown of blood. He started to scream.

“Dale, you have committed the unforgivable crime of incest. This has been punishable by death in our family for generations. We have already heard your plea- and the plea of your co-conspirator. You will now be punished.” Suzie stood above him. He realised he was in a pit. She looked behind her. “Go ahead.”

He saw a door open in the dark, the light from the moon illuminating the trees outside. He could see nothing else. The door closed. When it opened again, he heard the snarling and snapping of teeth. His heartbeat increased. He thought he must be having a heart attack. He pulled his body forward, yanking at the chains. He could hear many feet move. He made out bodies in the darkness. Bodies he hadn’t noticed before. Suzie walked through the light. He could hear her descending and looked over to where she would be. Suddenly, she stepped in front of Dale. She ripped the duct tape from his lips. He cried out. His mouth was dry and his throat hurt. She stepped away quickly and walked back up the stairs. There was loud barking.

“You’re all crazy! Dad! Dad, please!” He coughed. He looked in the direction Suzie’d disappeared. “You’d kill your own daughter?!”

She stepped back in the light, pulling Tom with her. They were both covered in blood. “No, your father had to do that. Go on, show him.”

The light flashed to the back of the room. There didn’t seem to be any windows. Dale looked behind him and gagged. A torso lay in a pool of blood in the opposite corner, limbs around it almost entirely indiscernible. A fly landed on the teeth exposed from an open mouth. There was nothing left of her face. The sinew that clung to the bone around her ribs made him vomit bile. He saw no skin and very little muscle.

More barking.

“Please, Dad. Please don’t do this to me!”

The light moved quickly over Suzie and Tom. She handed him a metal flask and he drank heartily. “You don’t have to be here for this, Tom.”

“Thank you,” he said. He moved toward the door. Dale could hear the dogs struggling against chains.

“Hurry. I can’t fucking hold these things forever,” someone said.

The door opened and closed. Dale screamed.

“Alright,” Suzie said. “You got the cattle prod? Give ’em to me.”

The light was still focused on Dale as he heard feet move closer to him.

They weren’t dogs at all. They were wolves- their bodies too thin but their grey and white fur well-groomed. Their eyes were wide and their teeth were as exposed as Jenny’s. Dale heard the electric thunder and saw the lightning of the cattle prod, but the wolves needed no persuasion. Once the chains were released they dove into the concrete pit, whimpering only a bit once they landed. The hunger overwhelmed them and they both lunged at Dale as he moved as far away as his chains would allow. He tried to stand and fell. He realised he was chained to the floor. The wolves, much faster than he, descended upon him. One bit into the flesh of his ankle. The other bit his arm as he raised it to shield his face. Their teeth were sharp, but the force of their jaws overwhelmed him most. They tore away at him and swallowed without chewing.

“Please!” Dale cried, holding up his arm in the light. The wolf bit at his head, tearing away the right side of his face. Dale howled and choked as blood spurted out on the concrete. The wolf lapped at it, then joined the other at Dale’s stomach. His intestines poured onto the floor and the wolves fought each other for pieces, snarling and growling over him as though he wasn’t there.

Dale could smell the meat of himself as he reached his arm toward Jenny and released his last heartbeat.

The Family


Kate extended her thumb toward the road. Her feet felt sweaty in her tennis shoes and her backpack left marks on her shoulders. She’d shuffled along for two hours; the sun indicated it was around noon. She’d no luck finding a ride all morning and she hadn’t moved far.

She saw a car slow and stepped closer to the road, bouncing off the dead grass. The air reeked of diesel from a truck that sped past her minutes ago. The car was going to stop. She smiled, her feet mostly in the road, and walked toward the sedan as it pulled over and the window rolled down. The woman who sat behind the wheel smiled back.

Kate stuck her head in the window. “Thanks,” she said. “How far are you goin’?”

“I’ve got thirty miles left on this road,” the woman answered. “Does that work for you?”

“I’m really grateful,” Kate said, getting in the car as the woman drove away. “They call me Bell- the tower, not the dame. What do they call you?”

“My name is Shelly.”

“Bell and Shell! We’re a natural Thelma and Louise.”

The woman shook her head, her eyes focused on the road. “I don’t get it.”

Kate shrugged. “It’s a really good movie. About sisterhood. You should definitely see it.” She stared out of the passenger window as a lightpost trailed behind them. Thirty miles. Excellent luck.

“So, how long have you been walking?” Shelly spoke a few miles later.

Kate turned her head. “Since 10 this morning. Slow, though. I’m really glad you stopped. I’ve only seen a few cars out here and most of them sped up.”

“People can be so rude,” Shelly murmured.

“Nah, I’m used to it.”

“So, where are you going?”

Kate laughed. “It sounds so dumb, I know, but I think I’ll know it when I get there. God, that sounds so stupid.”

“Well, where you coming from?”

Kate tilted her head back. “A ba-ad breakup. Someone I loved very much, but… some angels have horns, you know. But the distance will help, I think. As much distance as possible.” She stopped. “I’m sorry. But you ask the cliché questions and you’re gonna get the cliché answers.” She laughed again. “I don’t want to talk about this stuff. I don’t mean to be rude. We just have so little time together, right? We could really get to know each other. We could tell each other things we’ve never admitted to anybody. It’s what I like the most about hitchhiking. Like… alright. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid. Isn’t that funny? Picture me as a firefighter.”

“I wanted to be an archaeologist. I thought mummies and dinosaurs were the coolest and I wanted to dig ’em up.” Shelly replied. She laughed, too.

“When I was younger, I would howl whenever my family tried to eat in a restaurant. So my parents stopped taking me. I don’t really remember it, but then I grew up only eating at home because of it. It’s made being out here like this real interesting.”

“I used to scream whenever my parents took me into department stores. But they made me get over it. I think most kids, their parents make them acclimate to being in public. But everybody in my family takes baths, so it’s not like we’re normal. I didn’t even really understand how showering works until I moved in with my college boyfriend.”

“What about at pools and stuff?”

“I never showered at pools or after gym classes or anything like that. No one ever made me.” Shelly shrugged.

“Oh! I hooked up with a teacher in high school,” Kate said.

Shelly glanced at her, then laughed loudly. “So did I,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”

“Was it good?”

“…Not really.”

“Mine neither.” They both giggled.

“My best friend died in a plane crash when I was 12 and I’ve been terrified to fly, since,” Shelly said.

“I’ve flown a few times. It’s not bad,” Kate told her. “I actually flew out here. I used to live here, when I was a kid.”

“I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Lucky you. I grew up here and I moved away for college. Stayed away. Now I’m back!”

“Do you regret leaving?”

“Not really. Do you regret staying?”


The sun reflected on the road and they silently watched the haze in the distance. Kate pulled a piece of gum from her pocket. “You want one?” She pointed the pack at Shelly, who took one without looking.

“I want to leave my boyfriend,” Shelly suddenly said.

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t have a real reason, I guess. We’ve been together for so long and I just feel bored. I worked so hard to have everything else I wanted in life, or thought I wanted, but I’ve just felt stuck with him.”

“Then tell him that! Leave him. You can’t just stay with a guy because you’re used to him.”

“I always thought I needed more of a reason. He’s not a bad guy.”

“Have you cheated on him?”

“No!” Shelly looked at her. “I’m not like that.”

“Well, your heart’s not in it, so it’s not like you’re completely honest.”

Shelly inhaled. “Yeah,” she exhaled.

“Breaking up with my girlfriend is the best decision I’ve made since before we started to date.”

Shelly looked at her, then looked away.

“And it isn’t like you’re married,” Kate continued. “So if it’s what you want, do it now!”

“How long were you with… your girlfriend?”

“Three years or something. How long have you been with your boring beau?”

“Six years.”

Kate choked on her gum, then rolled down her window to spit it out. “Six years of vanilla ice cream?”

Shelly spat out her gum, too, and looked at Kate without turning her head away from the wheel. “It’s not that bad.”

“And you never wanted anything else?” Kate put her hand on Shelly’s thigh. The car swerved. “Sorry,” Kate laughed. “Have you ever been with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Shelly said.

“You’ve never even thought about it?”

“Not since I was very young.”

“Hey. We’re almost 30 miles and I assume you’re almost home or switching to the highway. There’s a gas station coming up- I saw the sign back there- you can drop me off there. Or you can find a place to park and we can make another secret.”

Shelly didn’t answer. Kate leaned back against the headrest and watched as the car pulled off onto a dirt road. Kate looked at the gas station ahead. Shelly turned the car off-road and parked behind a tree.

Without hesitation, Kate unbuttoned Shelly’s pants and shoved her hand inside. Kate’s fingers found Shelly’s warm pubic hair and she parted the lips with her index and ring fingers. Shelly shivered and Kate removed her hand, sucked her fingers, and put them back.


Kate pressed her lips to Shelly’s mouth. Shelly moaned as Kate’s fingers gently traced the area around her clitoris. Kate waited until Shelly’s mouth opened again and she darted her tongue in and out quickly. Shelly pushed her tongue into Kate’s mouth and her breathing got heavier as Kate leaned over the centre console and pushed her hand in further, massaging Shelly’s clit and tracing the opening of her vagina. Kate kissed her neck and placed her mouth against Shelly’s chest, her breath warm against her shirt, and as Shelly clamped around her, Kate drove two fingers into her and curved them as she pushed them in and out of Shelly as much as her clothing would allow.

“Oh oh oh, wait! Ohhhhhh.” Kate’s wet fingers were momentarily trapped inside of Shelly as she writhed against the seat and crossed her legs.

Kate laughed. “Take that one home,” she said. Gradually, she freed her hand from Shelly, wiping her fingers carefully against Shelly’s panties as she took them from her pants.

“Wait,” Shelly said. “I want to do you.”

“Are you sure?” Kate asked. Shelly nodded. Kate climbed on top of her and unbuttoned her shorts. She leaned into Shelly and kissed her as she pulled Shelly’s hands into her shorts. Kate’s fingers over Shelly’s, she guided them into her, pushing in three of Shelly’s fingers with two of her own. “Hold your hand like that. Press your palm against me.” Shelly did. Kate pushed down onto Shelly’s hand and began to grind her body forward. First slowly, then faster. She pushed down until she could feel that rubbing herself against Shelly’s hand was forcing Shelly’s knuckles against the crotch of her own jeans. Shelly breathed hot against Kate’s ear. Kate jammed her clit against Shelly’s palm and came, groaning into the side of Shelly’s seat. Her own breathing staggered, she pushed away from Shelly and flopped back into the passenger seat.

“Wow,” Shelly said.

“Thanks for the ride,” Kate told her. She kissed her cheek and climbed out of the car.

As Kate walked back to the road, she heard the tires screech behind her. She watched the car drive away, smirking, and pulled a black leather wallet from inside her shorts.

“Shelly Marshall,” she read the ID inside. “A whole sixty bucks! Thank you, Miss Marshall.” She put the cash back into the pocket and placed the wallet inside her backpack. Not bad for 30 miles.

Now she needed a bit more luck: she had to find another ride before Shelly came back for her missing wallet. Walking toward the gas station, she saw a man replace a fuel nozzle, leaning against his car. She approached him slowly. When he looked up at her, he held his eyes against her body. She cleared her throat and he looked at her face.

“Think you can give me a ride?” Kate asked. “I would be awfully grateful.”

“Sure thing,” he answered.

“Thanks,” Kate said. “How far are you goin’?”

“How far you need?”

Kate laughed and held out her hand, the scent of Shelly fighting against the smell of gasoline. “They call me Bell- with one E, not two,” Kate said. He grabbed her hand, firm, and held it for a few seconds before dropping it. “What do they call you?”


I sat on the curb, my elbows on my knees, watching my cigarette more than smoking it, really. The smell of cheap fried food and gasoline was making me sick. The cashier came out a few times to warn me how dangerous it is to smoke near the pumps, like I give a shit. I had my eye out, but not really. Most of the truckers weren’t looking at me.

Priscilla was, though. Just watching at first, then she limped over to stand over me. “Bitch, not now,” I moaned. “Your haggard ass is blocking my sun.” She sat next to me, most of her ass off the curb. Jittery. Tweaking. I rolled my eyes behind cheap yellow sunglasses. “I detest you,” I hissed.

She took the cigarette from between my fingers. Put it in her teeth as she bent over her knees to tie her shoelaces. Her fingernails dug into her bare legs intermittently. She had good skin for a tweaker, I guess. I bet she was flashing her cunt at all the truckers. “Seen Tuck?” she asked. The cigarette smoke blew back into our faces.

The sun heating my scalp, I closed my eyes. It was too hot for this shit. “No,” I answered slowly. “I have not seen Tucker.”

“You guys didn’t come home last night. I don’t know. I was up all night and you didn’t come home.”

“I can account for my own whereabouts just fine, thank you. As for Tucker, well, that is NB fucking C to me.” I was in no mood for the news.

“You score?”

I wanted to scream. Looking at her made me itch, so I tried not to. “Do I look like I fucking scored?”

“Calm the fuck down, Brandon,” she said. More smoke. I sighed. “You trick?” she tried.

“A little,” I answered. “Don’t tell Tucker. What about you?”

She released a breath of anxiety. “Yeah, it was a good night for me. I quit early. Went home and you guys never showed up.”

“Get the fuck over it. And you obviously stopped to see Carlos before heading home.”

“He is piiiiiissed at you. He almost didn’t even let me in. Don’t fuck up my connections, B.” I spat. It landed near her sneaker. She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “If you didn’t score, what’d you do with your money?” Her voice was soft. That tricky bitch.

“I didn’t make enough,” I told her. My elbows dug into the black denim covering my knees as I put my face in my hands. “Leave me aloooooooone.”

“Bullshit,” she said as she leaned over and kissed the fingers covering my cheek. I felt her leave and reached in my pocket for another cigarette. She walked off, waving at a trucker who stuck two fingers in the air as a reply. I couldn’t take it. I ran away from the gas station, peeling my t-shirt off as my legs flew. A car honked, screeched. The driver yelled something I couldn’t hear, so I brought my middle finger up at him and ran in the opposite direction.

I stopped running after a while. My pants were new, but my shoes had holes. A pebble got stuck in there and I had to stop to take it out. I slowed my pace and watched the cracked pavement. Tried not to scratch.

I noticed the car trailing me before the guy wanted to be noticed. It wasn’t a street anybody I knew ever got picked up on. The houses were all big, ivy-covered, and thick-walled, but they were split up and in shit shape. I flexed my back muscles and walked a bit faster.

Eventually, he approached me. “You want a ride?” he asked, leaning toward the passenger’s window. He stopped the car and I got in. I used my t-shirt to wipe sweat from my face as I slammed the door shut.

“Where we headed, then?” His voice and eyes were kind. His hair was grey and his face was chubby. His car was clean. Smelled clean.

“There’s this place not far from here where I know a guy who will let me use this back room. It’s a restaurant. And there’s always the Lice Motel. Or we can do it in the car, if you want.”

His eyes were wide. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. I didn’t flinch. Tried not to scratch. His hands held the steering wheel, the hairs on the backs of them standing. “I didn’t-” He stopped. “How much?”

I figured I might as well try. “Three hundred.” Firm.

“I’ll need an ATM.”

I told him where to find one and he drove off. Neither of us spoke. The sunglasses felt stuck to my face. The sun was only beginning to go down. There was a glare on everything. I squinted and winced. He glanced at me.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I said. “Just bright.”

He agreed. We got the money and I gave him directions to the motel. His fingers thumped rhythmically against the wheel the entire time.

At the desk, the girl- one of Carlos’- gave me a key without a word or any other sign of recognition. The man peered at me as we walked in the direction of the room. “Come here often, then?” he asked.

“She hates me,” I explained. “And I lived here once. With my mom. A long time ago.”

We got to the end of the hall and I shoved the key into the door and pushed my way in. It wasn’t a motel when I stayed there, of course. It was a shelter. It wasn’t very much of a shelter, then; it was on the verge of becoming what it is now. When I got old enough that shelters stopped taking the both of us, my dearest mother dropped me and never looked back. Which was fine; she pimped out her Sweet Angel Baby worse than anyone and I never saw any of the money. She barely fed me. But I didn’t tell him that.

When we were inside the room, he put the money on a table. Like something he’d seen in a movie, almost religious-like. I grabbed it and put it in my back pocket, then kicked my shoes off.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. I shrugged and peeled off my jeans. Making sure the money was still in the pocket, I put my shirt, jeans, and shoes on a chair. Then I placed the sunglasses on top. “Wow,” he said. His mouth was slightly open. He stared at my crotch.

“Yeah,” I said. I was used to the response.

“May I?” He dropped to his knees and approached me, kind of crawling. I shrugged and he wrapped his mouth around my cock. I stared at the bald spot in his wispy hair as his tongue darted around inside of his mouth, around my foreskin. I could almost feel my blood rushing in to reply and I nearly fell over as it did, hard and fast. He choked and pulled away, holding my waist. “God,” he said in awe.

“Yeah, I sure am blessed.” I stared down at my cock, which pointed like a threat into his face. I turned away from him and bent over in the air, avoiding the bed. I reached over to the chair and carefully pulled a condom out of my pocket without disturbing my pyramid of belongings.

“No,” he said. I briefly froze, then turned around. “No, you do me,” he clarified, and began to undress. Beneath his clothing, his body was soft, but not necessarily fat. He pulled a condom from his wallet. “And use this.”

“I’ve got my own,” I said.


I snatched the condom from him and ripped it open. He bent over the mattress and I stifled a groan. I stared into his hairy ass, my dick sheathed, the latex stretched almost comically tight. I spat onto my fingers before massaging the inside of his asshole. He was looser than I expected him to be and I grew impatient after working in my fourth finger. I placed the condom’s reservoir beneath my fingers and worked in the tip of my cock. Not soon after, my balls were rubbing against his taint and it really didn’t feel like much to me, but he was groaning and pulling at himself between his legs with his forefinger and thumb. I grabbed his balls as I closed my eyes and thrust into him harder and his grunts and moans made something in me pop and I started to fuck him as hard as I could. My cock twitched madly and I yanked myself away from him. He cried out. I saw the puddle of white he pushed himself off the bed to avoid. I rolled the condom off and jerked in one gesture. It shot through my back and burst out of me so fast, I almost collapsed. Semen coated the walls. A drip fell from the ceiling. On one knee, I started to laugh. The man behind me wheezed. I laughed harder. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get any in you,” I chuckled. He gasped. “You’re going to get lice,” I told him, pointing at his wet spot on the bed.

“I’ve gotta pee,” he said when he caught his breath.

“Cool,” I replied. I grabbed the sunglasses.

“Can I- I want to do it on you.”

He’d given me $300 for something I’d never make more than maybe $50 for. I dropped the sunglasses again. “Sure, whatever. You paid for it,” I said.

I hovered on my knees in the tub as he held the fatness of his limp dick at me. “You’re so young,” he murmured. He didn’t ask how old I was, though. Urine dribbled out slowly, then blasted me in the chest. I kept my eyes on his face. He moaned a little, then finished. I stood and turned on the faucet. The water was brown at first, then yellow. I rinsed myself. There was no soap. He dressed quickly and I heard the door slam as I turned the water off.

“Fuck.” I stumbled from the tub and ran to the chair, pushing the t-shirt and glasses to the floor, swearing again as I picked them up, and reached in the pocket of the jeans. The cash was still there. I pulled on the t-shirt and put on the sunglasses, then stepped into the pants and shoes. I dropped the key on the front desk and spat next to it before running off to Charlie’s. Charlie is Carlos’ sister. Charlie didn’t hate me yet.

When I put the money into her hand, she said to me, “Well, you just fucked somebody.” It was neither friendly nor unfriendly. Just a statement.

“I hadn’t come in a while. My ass gets all of the attention these days.” I put the baggie in my pocket and blew her a kiss before leaving.

I saw the fucking cop car almost immediately. He was sitting there with all of the lights off, but you don’t miss a fucking porkmobile. He got out and shut the door carefully behind him. It was dark out now, but fresh dark.

“I bet I can guess where you just came from,” he said. Stepped under a streetlamp. Smiled.

“Fuck,” I said. And no point in whispering it.

“And I bet I can guess what I’m gonna find on you, too.” He stepped closer to me. I didn’t hide my hatred. “But maybe you can do something to keep me from guessing.”

Right. “Like what?” I crossed my arms.

He motioned for me to get in the car so I did. He turned it on and the sirens chirped and the lights flashed and we were driving away. I said nothing. He spoke a lot without saying much, like he was high or something. We stopped in a field. I could hear a train. I figured we must be beneath the tracks. He took his gun from his belt and put it on the dashboard close to him. Unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. Of course. “Look at them dick-sucking lips,” he leered at me. “Suck some dick, pretty boy.”

I dropped the sunglasses and grabbed his dick with my right hand. I leaned over and breathed hot air onto his lap before swallowing the whole thing. His head tilted back, but his hand was still close to his gun. I tripled my efforts, pressing down on his pants where his testicles would be and reaching with my left hand into my pocket for the reason I had no money from the night before. My tongue circled the head of his cock as my fingers freed the blade. An old-school straightrazor, in beautiful shape, the blade sharp as all hell. As he thrust his hips into my face, I grabbed his cock with my right hand and drove the razor in. He shrieked, but it didn’t come out immediately, so I yanked the blade and went in a second time. Severed. His screams were louder than anything I’d ever heard. He reached for his gun but I struck with the razorblade into his hand. It came out when he yanked back toward his body. I went for the gun. Got it.

The dick felt like a dead mouse. My shirt and fingers were covered in blood, still red by moonlight. The blood darkened around his crotch. He shivered, no longer able to scream. I opened the door.

“Ciao, Satan.” I kissed his cheek and put the razor and my glasses into my pockets before leaping out of the car and spitting on the ground. I hate the taste of porkdick.

When I got home that night, Tucker and Priscilla were lying on the only mattress, on the floor. Tucker’s wrist was disappearing into Priscilla’s twat and her fingers clawed the pillow, her neck twisted, her back arched. It was a fucked-up exorcism. They heard me come into the room and Tucker’s muscles tensed as he pulled his fingers out of her and turned to look at me. He stood, naked, and motioned for Priscilla to suck his cock. She got on her knees and wrapped her mouth around it slowly, timid, and looked at me while he fucked her face. She barely blinked.

“Silly tells me you went tricking last night,” Tucker said.

“I’m so bored with her,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I can’t wait for her to fucking overdose.” Priscilla made a noise of objection, but Tucker shoved his cock further into her throat.

“So you have something for me, then?”

I handed him the gun and a $20 bill. They were both bloody. My hands were dry; dark red. I’d tossed the dick about a mile from the car. I wondered if he’d called for backup or died in his fucking shame. I hoped for the latter.

Tucker pushed Priscilla back onto the mattress. Her knee hit her shoulder as her head hit the wall. He pointed the gun at my face. She squealed, but I couldn’t tell if it was in terror or glee. I looked at a string of saliva that dripped from his cock to the floor, then back at the gun.

“Look,” I said. A part of me hoped he’d just pull the trigger. “I just wanna get high. You two are obviously having fun, and I just want to have mine. I’ll be in the bathroom.”

I turned away and he let me go. I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled my kit from the air vent, stuffing the cash in to replace it. As I filled the needle, I heard Priscilla scream and then a thump. I emptied the needle into my arm and tried to hide my kit and unlock the door before the swimming in my head turned to drowning.

Tucker’s hands were pulling down my pants unceremoniously as my eyelids got too heavy. My face pressed against the cold tile and his cock was in my ass and he was thrusting, holding me up by the waist with one burly arm. The last thing I heard was him swearing as his knee crushed my sunglasses. But that was alright, because I could afford new ones.