Over the Edge

When I entered the room, the perfumed air felt thick in my nostrils, but I ignored the heaviness of it just to breathe in the sight of her body sprawled out across the mattress- her open legs wrapped in the bright-white sheets. The skin of her thighs contrasted beautifully against the fabric and created the perfect aesthetic: the archetypal image of arousal. Closed together in this bedroom, I took in her bare feet, toes hugging. I undressed myself as my eyes travelled from her legs to her waist. Up her back and her hair. God, I wanted her. Just her body lying there, naked and waiting, made every drop of feverish blood rush to my waist and fill my cock until it could cut glass. She turned her face toward me and shifted her body. The side of her breast slid out from the cloth and I slid in beside her. The hard meat of my penis rubbed against her butter-smooth thighs and I just needed to be inside of her.And I remembered the day I met my wife. We were so young and I was so reckless then. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing with girls. Even her silhouette drove me crazy, made my chest feel like a heart attack and my pants too tight. I was always trying to manipulate her into letting me up her skirt- just humping at her- but once she gave in, I didn’t know up from down. I made a fool of myself, but she was so sweet about it and when we finally made love- three years after we met- it was tender and passionate and we didn’t leave the house for a week. I pissed sideways after that, but it was worth it and it was hard to be away from the sweetness of her pussy for long enough to heal. Sore and red, until it could only spit out dust, I rammed my young, eager cock into her whenever I could. She saw my glory days. Plenty of girls did.

I pulled back the sheets and rubbed those creamy buttocks, pushing my fingers in the crack of her thigh. I kissed her shoulder and she kissed my neck. Her lips were moist and, as my hands explored her lower crevices, I found matching conditions in the lower labia. I slid one digit inside of her, feeling my finger bathed in the liquid state of her sexual arousal. I slipped in another and the flesh and blood of her hugged me and I rolled over onto her and pulled her into my arms. This close to me, as close as she could possibly be, the smell of her reminded me of something distant. Echoes of memories. I tried to recall. My arm wrapped around her waist, I spread her open with my right hand as I lifted myself into her. Damn, she was tight around me. I loved the squishing her hole made as I settled into her, the ring grip of her vaginal opening holding onto the base of my cock. And her moan…

The day I asked my wife to marry me, it was raining. We’d gone to some show and it was pouring when we left, what they call pounding rain. I held my leather jacket over her head and she pushed me aside and twirled in the storm. She was soaked in seconds. We ran to the car and she peeled off her wet clothes in the backseat and I joined her there. She climbed on top of me, naked as a babe and her hair dripping in my face. Static ran between our lips as we kissed and thunder crashed through the sky. It shook our world. I was solid as a rock and plunged into the ocean between her legs and the condensation of our combined desire fogged up that car. She whispered in my ear that I couldn’t pull out of her, I had to stay and come inside of her and she came and I came and we sat there panting and the lightning lit up the interior and I could see the full beauty of her. The rain sounded like small gunshots bursting on the metal of the car. I needed to spend the rest of my life having magical moments with this magical goddess. I asked her to marry me and she was breathless in her acceptance. Six years after we met, we were married in a church. Our wedding night, we fucked from dusk ’til dawn and I made her breakfast while she sucked my cock at the stove and I knew we’d be happy forever. How could we fall apart?

In the bed, I folded and unfolded her frame as I fit myself inside of it. I fucked her body in every position I could hold for two or three good, hard pumps. Her moans gave me energy. Her cries made my cock twitch and swell inside of her. My sweat dripped on her back, her neck, her face. Her skin slid beneath my palms. The salty-sweet scent of her made my mouth water. I hadn’t felt that way since I was too young to know what it meant. Her pussy swelled around the bulge of my tumescence and I didn’t want to hold back. My orgasm detonated inside of her. I felt her feel it. The explosion of it forced a grunt out of me and I collapsed in the aftermath, pulling away from her as she rolled away from me. We panted. She dripped my shrapnel onto the sheets. I turned to her and she leaned her smiling face into mine and her lips tasted like sweat or maybe tears. I felt good.

My wife hadn’t touched me in months. I sometimes wanted to shout, but I am afraid she’ll tell me it’s because I don’t see her anymore and she’s right. Her skin used to shine like the surface of the sun and now I barely see her in the shadows chasing the corners of my eyes. I love my wife with a faith you’ll barely find in the world. But the touch of a woman… that’s not what she’s there for, anymore. That makes me long for it even more. I want to share everything with my wife. But I’m sharing this moment, this lust, with another woman. And my wife can never know. Worse, she can never know that I will share many future moments with this woman. I’d become a man with a mistress. I’d hold this woman in my arms, gratified, and return home to the love of my wife and maybe I’d go back to feeling whole. Maybe I could return to clarity.

I crossed my leg over her waist and nudged my face into her neck. I fell asleep and dreamt of the woman I loved, in the moments I loved her most.

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Over the Edge

PORK [Chapter One]

“Prairie says he ain’t got nothin’ for you, Pig.”

Pig looked over the railing. She stood on her toes to lean out over the highway. The cars sat, bumpers practically kissing, unmoving beneath the hot white of the sun. A stream of saliva dripped from her lips. She watched the spit land on the hood of a car. Her fingers grasped the railing and she pulled away.

“But it’s been two weeks,” she said. “What’s Prairie been doin’ for two weeks?” She glanced at Cork’s dirty t-shirt and torn-open, tattooed pants and wrinkled her nose. She crossed her arms.

“He just ain’t got nothin’ for you. He said come back in a week.”

“But it’s been two,” she reiterated.

“So?” He pulled a crushed pack of American Spirits from his tattered pocket, dumped one into his palm, and lit it with a baby blue Bic. “How much they givin’ you now, anyway?”

“They cut me off when I left Hellhouse.”

He snorted. “You never could lie for shit.”

She wasn’t lying, but there was no point in arguing. “Can I get one of those?”

“Where’d you get the money for Prairie?” he asked.

“From Crazy Eddie.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You with Crazy Eddie now?”

She pointed at his pants. “Can I get one of those?”

He shook his head. “Get your own. I only got so many left. When did you get with Crazy Eddie?”

“I ain’t with anybody. Just stayin’ with one of his girls.” She was staying with Candy, that was true. But Crazy Eddie wasn’t just giving her money. Cork didn’t need to know that.

“At the Ruby Palace?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She’d heard people call it that before.

He raised his eyebrow again and handed her the cigarette from his lips. She took it and put the butt between her own. She closed her eyes as she inhaled and let the smoke filter from her nostrils.

“You’re fucking ugly, you know that?” He watched her smoke with his hand in his pocket. “Give it back.”

She passed the cigarette back into his fingers and spat on the pavement. “Sure,” she said. “You’re not shit, either.”

He grabbed her cheeks and held her by the face. She looked in his eyes, not blinking. He blew smoke into her face and she continued to stare through the haze.

“Do you wanna fuckin’ die?” he whispered. His breath smelled of shit. “I can help you.” She waited for him to let go. “Get on your knees.”

“Fuck you,” she growled. She rubbed her jaw.

“Want me to tell Prairie you said, ‘Fuck you’? Want to have to wait another month?”

She sneered as she lowered herself to her knees. He pushed her back against the rail and unzipped his pants. His dick fell from the hole as he dug it out, limp and wrinkled. He pulled her head toward his waist.

“Suck it,” he demanded. She slowly placed her lips to the head and pulled him into her mouth, like a naked mole rat burrowing itself into her throat. His cock reeked of hand sanitiser. That was somehow more disgusting to her, though she couldn’t say why.

“Keep sucking,” he shouted. The dead worm lay lifeless on her tongue. She moved her lips around it. It felt warm and tasted like a gym sock. She tried not to retch.

Fluid rushed into her mouth, warm and foul. It leaked onto her shirt as she choked and put her palms to his thighs to push him away.

“I hate you!” Her fists pummeled him as he she stood. He laughed and backed away. “You fucking pissed on me!”

“Fuck you, Pig,” he laughed. He pushed his cock back into his jeans and walked away. He turned around and walked backwards. “Come back in a week,” he shouted. He turned and ran away.

On her feet, she spat globs of thick saliva onto the ground and wiped her mouth with the side of her arm. She hated Cork. He was a fucking faggot, anyway. Everyone knew it. That’s how he got to work so closely with Prairie. Rumour was Prairie’s dick was too big to fuck anyone without hurting them, but Prairie probably started that rumour himself. Cork sure didn’t walk like he was hurt.

She stood and watched his back grow smaller and disappear, then spat once more onto the sidewalk before turning away and walking in the opposite direction.

Cork chuckled to himself as his shoes scraped the sidewalk. He thought of Pig’s face as his urine trickled into her mouth. He snorted. Sometimes the hatred he felt for her made his stomach turn and jump at claw at him from inside. Now that she was at Ruby Palace, he’d catch shit for fucking with her for sure.

He wondered if he’d even see her in a week. Prairie must have known she was a Ruby now; he had more than enough to sell to her.

Pig was so stupid, she didn’t even know what it meant to stay at Ruby Palace. She probably though Candy and Crazy Eddie were just being nice, giving her money and a place to sleep as charity or something. He kicked a rock, then picked it up and hurled it through a car window. The alarm blared and echoed through the street. He didn’t look back as he passed it, didn’t increase the speed of the snail pace of his travel. He dug the bent pack of cigarettes from his pocket and dumped one out into his hand. He then replaced the packet and fished for his blue Bic. He flicked it thrice before the flame caught the end of his cigarette. He inhaled slowly. The car alarm stopped and someone screamed in the street behind him. He didn’t stop or look over his shoulder. The cigarette tasted like nothing at all.

“I hate this fucking city,” he said aloud. It wasn’t fair. Pig would probably get to leave now. Stupid, ugly bitch.

He ashed onto the street and bent over to tie his shoelaces. The frayed fabric slipped through his filthy fingernails. His tongue pushed the cigarette to the other end of his mouth. It dangled between his lips and he squinted through the smoke. He stuffed the ends of the laces into his sneakers and kept walking.

He walked and the houses grew sparse. He walked until there were no houses at all, and the grass became weeds stabbing through the cracks in the pavement. He walked until he saw the warehouses, all kept safely behind chainlink fences. He pushed one of the gates and the chain rose enough for him to fit beneath. He jogged to the building and lifted himself in through a window.

He walked through the hot, dark hallways- going more by memory than by sight- until he reached the lit areas. In the main entrance, Cork called out for Prairie, expecting to find him hunched over the mad science experiment of his alleged laboratory. Prairie wasn’t in any of the lit areas. Maybe he was sleeping. Sometimes Prairie would pass out for days and Cork would have to take all of his calls and hold people off until Prairie finally woke up. It was because Prairie never slept. Ever.

And where were Tiny and Deadhead and Tank? Was no one home?

He crossed into the darkness of the other side of the building. These hot hallways made him claustrophobic. He put his hand on the wall and guided himself through the rooms.

He climbed the stairs carefully and took out the Bic. He flicked up the fire with his thumb. It didn’t illuminate much, but at least he wasn’t blind. He walked into a room and found Prairie there, his shoulders against the wall.

“Did you know Pig was a-” Cork saw the girl on her knees before Prairie. Prairie’s silhouette pushed his penis back into his pants. The girl wiped her mouth. Cork’s finger slipped into the flame of the lighter and he nearly dropped it. He flicked it five times before the fire returned and Prairie and the girl faced him, smirking, their faces jumping in the dim light.

Prairie’s smirks always gave Cork chills, but this time, he felt nothing at all. “What’s happening?” His voice sounded small and far away in his own ears. Looking at Prairie, he saw him through a seemingly-endless tunnel.

“You’re being demoted,” Prairie answered. His voice filled the entire floor, loud and deep. “Sorry, kid.” Even in the feeble lighter fire, in the empty room, Prairie neither looked nor sounded apologetic.

“But why? What’d I do?” His free hand gestured at the girl. “This doesn’t make sense, Prairie.” Prairie didn’t even like girls. They were missing something, the thing he wanted most.

She pushed forward, leaving the area. As she passed Cork, she whispered into his ear, “I got a dick, too. Fucking loser.”

The lighter went out. He wrapped his fingers around the plastic and punched her, hard. His hand aimed for her face, but he didn’t see, feel, or care where the blow landed. She cried out.

“Never hit a lady,” Prairie grunted. He knocked Cork to the floor as he walked the girl out of the room, holding her in his arms. The windowless room was too dark to see anything, even the outlines of the walls. There wasn’t enough light coming from the hallway to show Cork where to go. He’d dropped the lighter and his sense of direction. Disoriented, he sat motionless and listened to their footsteps abandoning him in the dark. Alone. Sounds came from every direction. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled to breathe. The air came in loud gasps and the darkness spun around him. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them until he saw the stars inside of him, the bright dots of his existence, and he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the lack of light before groping around on his hands and knees for his lost Bic. His fingers brushed the plastic and he palmed it and quickly stood, letting the weak fire guide him back down the stairs and into the light of the lobby.

“If you’re going to be a violent little shit, you can get the hell out.” Prairie didn’t look up as he spoke. The girl sat at his feet and stared up at Cork. Cork glared at her, at her huge animal eyes and blank face. “You know my lab is all about peace,” Prairie continued. “The smallest disruption could- poof!” He raised his arms, his eyes still focused on the broken desk before him. “Send us all straight to the devil.”

Cork couldn’t stare at her face anymore. He walked to Prairie’s left side and watched him cut lines. Not a single grain of powder got away from the card he used to separate them. “One of these for me?” Cork softly asked. His right hand gripped Prairie’s left shoulder. Prairie slowly rotated and looked into his eyes, squinting and blinking rapidly.

“I know I don’t always express myself right,” Prairie spoke like a preacher. “So let me be real straight. You’re cut off, Cork. You don’t live with me anymore and I don’t take care of you. You get it now? Fucking dumb little fuck.” His eyes returned to the table.

Cork’s eyebrows met in confusion. “But where am I supposed to go? Prairie! I ain’t got nowhere else to go.”

“Go to Hellhouse! Sleep on the streets! I don’t give a fuck. Not my job to take care of strays.”

Cork’s fingernails dug into his palms as his hands turned to fists. “You swore.”

“Why are you snifflin’ at me like a little bitch? Why are you still here?”

Cork backed away, his eyes narrowed. He avoided the cartood eyes of the girl, willing Prairie to just look at him one more time. He backed into the long, white table- the laboratory- and whirled around. His arms flailed as he knocked it all to the floor. Every glass bottle, every tube. Liquid bubbled on the ground and he ran away as quickly as his feet could move. He heard Prairie shrieking and cursing as he threw his body through an open window. He kept running. He needed somewhere to hide, somewhere safe. He couldn’t think of anywhere to go. He had very little cash and no other friends.

His breathing grew laboured and he limped miserably beneath flickering streetlamps. The warehouses disappeared, replaced by strip malls; most of the businesses gone, the stores left deserted and bare, awaiting their next capitalist venture. Cork found a rock and tossed it through a window. An alarm sounded and he took off again.

“Fuck Prairie,” he muttered. Really, Prairie wasn’t too bad. At least he never hit him, the way his grandfather had. And he wasn’t so bad to fuck, really. Plus, he had the best drugs. But he knew Prairie would never have him back. He couldn’t even remember who worked for Prairie before Prairie found him.

He came upon another empty store and threw a stone through the window. No alarm. He crawled in, cutting his hand on a shard of glass. He tore his t-shirt and wrapped it around his palm, then found a corner of the building to hide in. Unless he found somewhere else to sleep, he’d probably have to walk the streets all night tomorrow, but Prairie wouldn’t be looking for him then.

He tried to position himself toward the light from outdoors without revealing too much of himself. Satisfied, he took his Sharpie from his left pocket and began to draw a snout on his pants leg.

Pig sat on Candy’s couch, her chin on her knees, shivering beneath a thick blanket. Candy kept her house like a refrigerator all summer. The material of the blanket made Pig itch and she dug her fingernails into her skin, trying to scratch away the sensation.

“Nothing from Prairie today?” Candy asked. She sat next to Pig and pulled her hand away.

“No. I think Cork was fucking lying. He probably just snorted it all.”

“Crazy Eddie give you money this morning?”

Pig nodded and scratched her nose.

“I know a guy who’s got some real good shit. You can make a few bucks from him. Are you interested?”

Pig dug at her scalp. “Do I have to fuck him?”

Candy shook her head. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s not like that, I promise, just some quick money. You got a fake ID?”

Pig nodded. Glass, one of the other girls who stayed at the house, walked through the living room. She didn’t speak or look at them. Candy rolled her eyes.

“Tomorrow, at exactly 9 AM, Crazy Eddie’s going to pick you up. Be ready. You’ll need to wear makeup. There’s some in the bathroom upstairs. You have to be ready at 9 AM. Can you do that?” Pig nodded. Candy grabbed her hand, held it, and continued. “Try to look your best, alright? It’s easy work, just a few photos. You want to do it?”

“How much?”

Candy smiled. “Fifty to two hundred. It depends how much he likes you. So make him like you.” She stood. “I’ve got to go talk to Glass and Feather.” She started to leave the room, then turned around. “Take Glass’s bed tonight. Get some good rest. And set an alarm.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“I’ll give you one of my old ones. Go on to Glass’s room. If Feather is in there, please send her out to talk to me.”

Pig tossed the blanket aside, jumped from the couch, and ran out of the room. It’d been years since she’d slept in a bed; even at Hellhouse, she’d slept on the floor in the dining area. Every morning, she and the others brought in the tables to replace the blankets while people filed in for their weak breakfast.

She opened the door without knocking and bounced onto the mattress. Feather jumped.

“Candy’s in the living room. She wants to talk to you.”

“Why are you in here?” Feather narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her stomach.

“I have a job tomorrow,” Pig answered. She tried not to smile.

Feather sucked her teeth and stomped out of the room. In the hallway, she ran face-first into Candy’s breasts.

“Wait for me in the kitchen,” Candy told her. Feather scoffed and walked away. “And stop storming around my house like you own it!” Candy waited until she couldn’t hear Feather’s feet. She sat on the edge of Pig’s bed and handed her a glass. “Drink,” she commanded. She stood and bent over the nightstand. The cord in her hands disappeared behind the table and she placed the phone carefully on top. “An alarm is set for 7. Don’t forget your ID. Get some sleep tonight. Be ready and waiting outside at exactly 8:45.” She waited for Pig to empty the glass, then took it and left. She shut the door.

Pig was far too excited to sleep. She could make fifty bucks tomorrow just for getting her picture taken? She couldn’t believe it. And she got to sleep in Glass’s bed. Glass would hold a grudge for days, but it was worth it. She rubbed her cheek on Glass’s pillowcase. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, but it wasn’t as rough as the couch pillows, either. She laughed and smiled to herself as she buried her face in the pillow.

The phone played a jolting tune and she couldn’t remember where she was and didn’t know what caused the noise. She turned beneath the blanket and saw Feather’s tightly-closed eyes.

“Fuck,” she groaned. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She sat up and grabbed the phone from Glass’s bedside table. She pressed the screen until the noise abruptly ended, then put her feet on the floor and stared at the blank wall.

Five minutes later, she stood and opened the bedroom door. She could hear the shower going at the end of that hall. She yawned and went upstairs, where Candy’s bedroom and the other bathrooms were. She locked herself in a bathroom. A box full of makeup waited on the counter. She looked at her face in the mirror and poked at a pimple. She pinched it until the pus popped out, followed by a weak stream of pink blood.

“Yuck,” she uttered. She left the mirror and turned on the shower.

She slowly undressed, facing away from the mirror, and stepped into the warm water. As soon as it touched her skin, urine trickled down the inside of her thighs. She wanted to shave, but she had no razor. She dragged her finger over her teeth and rinsed her mouth. The soap dish on the wall held a bar of soap and she smeared suds over her wet skin. She rinsed the film from her body and wet her hair before turning off the water. She shivered as she grabbed a towel from the bathroom counter and wrapped it around her shoulders. She dried her face, hair, and back, then wiped the mirror before dropping the towel on the floor.

She looked at the box of makeup, then back at her reflection. She took a few items and painted them on her face until she was satisfied. She pulled on the clothes she’d slept in and slipped a few lip glosses into her pocket. Then she left the bathroom.

Downstairs, she found an apple in a basket on the kitchen counter and wiped it on her shirt before biting into it. Pixie came out of the bathroom and joined her in the kitchen. She took four eggs from the refrigerator and grabbed a pan from the cabinet.

“You’re up early,” Pixie greeted her.

“I’ve got a job today,” Pig replied. She smiled.

“Yeah? Who with?” Pixie moved Pig aside as she returned to the fridge for the butter.

“Dunno. Candy didn’t say. Some picture guy.” The apple crunched between her teeth.

“Must be Marcos. You can’t wear that to see him; he’ll hate you. Go in my room and find a dress you like. I want it back. If you steal from me, I’ll fucking chop off your fucking fingers.” Pixie cracked an egg into the pan.

Pixie was the only girl in the house who got her own room, other than Candy. She didn’t have a curfew, either. And she had a car. No one else in the house spoke to Pig, but Pixie was nice to everyone.

Pixie’s room was nicely decorated and very messy. Pig stepped over piles of clothes and trash and opened the closet door. It was full of clothes- floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Pig looked at everything and chose the first dress she grabbed. She kicked everything away from her feet before taking off her clothes and pulling the dress over her head. She picked up her own clothes and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

In the kitchen, Pixie dumped scrambled eggs onto two plates. When Pig reentered, she thrust a plate at her.

“That looks so good on you, I almost want to let you keep it. Eat. Hurry. I wish I had time to fix your makeup, but I’m already running late.” Pixie shovelled three spoonfuls of eggs in her mouth and dropped the plate in the sink. Pig ate her eggs with her fingers, her clothes still in her arm.

“Gotta go. Don’t make Marcos hate you,” Pixie advised. She left the room, touching Pig’s shoulder as she passed. As Pig placed her own dish in the sink, she heard Pixie’s car start in the driveway.

She ran water over the dishes and walked into the hallway. She looked around, then opened a closet door and grabbed her backpack from the back corner. She stuffed her clothes inside, closed the door, and went to wait outside.

Crazy Eddie arrived at 8:55 and honked the horn of his brown Cadillac El Dorado twice. She hopped from the porch and ran to the passenger door. As she sat in the leather seat, he warned, “Don’t slam my door.”

She closed the door delicately and sighed, leaning into the headrest as she placed the backpack on her feet. “Mornin’, Crazy Eddie.”

“Hey, Pig,” he replied. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. She stared at the ring on the little finger of his right hand. His left hand reached beneath the wheel and she saw him unbutton and unzip his jeans. His fingers pried within the pants until his cock bolted out- hard and pulsing at the wheel.

“You just gonna look at it?” he asked several seconds later.

She wrapped her small fingers around the soft, hardened flesh and tugged it toward her. Her hand moved up and down, over the head and down the shaft, into his pants. She turned in the seat for better access and moved her hand quickly up and down, down and up, jerking him feverishly but gently, until his dick shivered and drooled sperm into her fist.

“Napkins in the glove box,” he told her. He tucked in his penis and reached over to open the glove compartment for her. She cleaned her hands with the fast food napkins and pushed them into her backpack.

“Cute dress,” he said.

“It’s Pixie’s. She borrowed it to me.”

“You like Pixie?”

Pig nodded and looked out of the window. “She reminds me of my sister, I guess.”

“Pig and Pixie.” Crazy Eddie chuckled. “She fuck you, yet?”

Her neck cracked as she turned to stare at him. “No way,” she replied.

“You don’t like girls? Pixie does. I hear she’s real good, too. Just don’t fall in love with her. Love is the mind-killer.”

Pig scratched her knee. Crazy Eddie turned on the car radio and they listened to the commercials in silence.

At 9:45, Crazy Eddie parked in front of a house and turned off the engine. It was just a house, Pig thought, not a studio or anything.

“Is this it?” She stared at the mailbox and driveway.

“Yep.” He opened the car door and got out of the car. She did the same, grabbing her backpack before slowly and carefully shutting her door. She followed him up the driveway and watched him ring the doorbell.

“Be cool,” Crazy Eddie urged.

“Are you going to stay here with me?” Her voice revealed her age and anxiety.

“Of course,” he promised.

The door opened and Pig stared into the face of the man who stood before her, wearing old suit trousers and neither shirt nor shoes. Crazy Eddie nudged her inside. The interior of the house had the unmistakable dead skunk smell of cheap pot. A woman laid naked on a couch in the living room and watched the two men guide Pig through the house with barely-open eyelids. They stopped in a back room. The walls were covered in fabric and tall metal stands supported large, hot lights. Pig stood still and waited quietly, uncertain of what to do or say.

The man looked at her in the bright light and scoffed. “Estás completamente loco. Es fea. Qué hago con esa?” He spat into the air and turned away. Pig didn’t know what to do. She looked at Crazy Eddie for guidance, but he didn’t look at her.

“Hombre, qué  es el problema?” Pig didn’t realise Crazy Eddie even spoke Spanish. She smiled, then turned her face to stone and let the men continue.

“Su cara! ¿Estás ciego o estúpido? Tú pierdes mi tiemp cada vez.”

Crazy Eddie sighed. “Voy a llamar La Niña. Alright? Borracho.”

The man glared. “Míralo…” he warned. He left without looking at Pig.

“What’s wrong?” Pig asked. She could hear the man stomping through the house.

“Nothing’s wrong. He just forgot to take his medicine. Look, I need you to go into the bathroom- right through there- and clean your face.” He pointed into the darkness and she could see a hallway through the lights. “Wash your face real good and don’t come out until I come get you. Got it? And whatever Marcos pays you today, you’re going to owe me a hundred of it. You got it?”

“But what if I only get paid $50?”

“Then you’ll still owe me $50 and you’ll walk out of here with less than you came with. So you better make more than that.”

She nodded sullenly and disappeared through the dark hall. There was only one door, and she let herself inside and locked it behind her before turning on the light, putting her backpack on the floor, and sitting on the toilet.

What if she’d already made Marcos hate her? What if she had to pay Crazy Eddie more than she’d make? All she had was the money he’d just given her a few days ago and she didn’t know when she could make more. She scratched at her neck and shoulders, fighting back the hyperventilation she felt gather like a storm in her chest.

She stood and stared in the mirror. Makeup smudges covered her face. She looked like a clown.

The water only smeared the makeup more. She used the handsoap to wash it away, but it didn’t help. It took fifteen minutes of scrubbing before she noticed any difference, and another fifteen minutes before her face was clean, though now very irritated.

Still, no one came to the door. She sat back on the toilet and wondered if Crazy Eddie’d left her there.

Another ten minutes and she was certain he had. She couldn’t hear anyone in the house. Probably Eddie left and Marcos forgot about her. She picked up her backpack and reached for the doorknob.

The doorbell rang at the front of the house. She backed away from the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the tub, her elbows on her knees.

Someone knocked on the door. The doorknob turned. “Come on out, Pig,” Crazy Eddie called.

She turned off the light and opened the door. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the lights. A woman with long, thick eyelashes and impossibly-pink lips smiled at her.

“Pig, this is Niña. She’s going to paint you up pretty.”

“What did you call her?” The woman’s pencilled eyebrows raised.

“It’s just my nickname,” Pig explained.

Niña sat her in a chair directly beneath one of the lights.

“Is this a rash?” she asked.

“I scrubbed too hard,” Pig sniffled.

“Not so rough next time. And whatever soap you used, don’t ever touch it again,” Niña advised.

By 11:30, Pig’s face resembled something you’d find on a fashion magasine cover.

“Overkill?” Niña asked Crazy Eddie.

“You’re a magic worker.” Crazy Eddie beamed and kissed her softly on the lips. Pig looked away.

Marcos entered the room, still barefoot and shirtless. He smiled at Pig. “Who is this young beauty? You look like a completely different girl!” He pointed at Pig and asked Niña, “This your work?”

Niña smiled, her teeth gleaming bright white behind her pink lips.

“You deserve more than whatever this tacaño is paying you,” Marcos said. He kissed the top of Niña’s head. “Eres una artista.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t wait until Ed has to call me, then.” Niña laughed.

“Can I see?” Pig asked quietly.

Niña pulled a mirror from her bag and handed it to Pig.

“I’m beautiful,” she whispered. She touched her nose.

“Nope,” Niña said as she snatched the mirror away. “Don’t touch your face, chica. Hands off.” She kissed Crazy Eddie and Marcos’ cheeks. “Gotta run; it’s been fun,” she sang.

“I’ll walk you out,”Crazy Eddie offered.

Marcos chuckled as he watched Pig watch them leave. “Do you have your ID?” he asked.

She opened the front pocket of her backpack and handed him the license.

He looked at it. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she lied.

“This ID is expired,” he said.

“I haven’t been able to renew it,” she responded quickly.

He huffed. “What’s your name?”

She gave him the name on the card.

“Alright. I need you to fill out this paperwork and I’ll make some copies of your ID. Don’t fill in the dates. I’ll do that later. Just enter your information and sign where it tells you.”

He took the ID, glanced at it once more, and put it in the scanner in the corner of the room.

Pig looked at the papers. Social security number? She didn’t even know her real social security number. She wrote nine numbers and copied them in a notebook she kept in her backpack. He handed her the ID and she gave him the half-completed paperwork.

“Alright, now let’s see you,” he said. She stared and didn’t move. “What do you think you’re here for? Get naked. Vámonos. We’ve already wasted enough time today.”

She stood and slowly removed the dress. Her bra and panties were torn and dirty. He sucked his teeth and shook his head.

“Turn around,” he demanded. She faced the wall. “Decent body,” he decided. He opened a drawer near the printer and chose a matching set of underwear. He tossed them at her back and she turned around. “Put these on.” She moved toward the hallway and he laughed. “Don’t be modest.”

She slowly slipped the bra and panties from her arms and legs and replaced them with the new set. They fit perfectly. She touched her breasts and he chortled at her awe.

“Keep them, princesa. Alright, put the dress on and stand over here.”

She stuffed the old underwear into her backpack and stood before the backdrop. She wiped her sweaty palms against her knees. He snapped a photo. She looked up. “Here?” she asked.

“Yes, perfecto. Now, point your feet out a bit. Relax, cariño. Arch your back. Give a nice, pretty smile.” She heard the shutter.

He took a few more photos of her wearing the dress. She smiled and relaxed into her body.

“Alright, lose the dress.” He looked at the camera, reviewing the pictures. She wondered where Crazy Eddie was as she pulled the dress over her head. “Pare! Stop!” he yelled. “Hold that pose.” He snapped more photos. “Alright, toss it aside. Now, cross your arms beneath your breasts, push them up. Lean forward and arch your back. Smile.” Click. “Bend your knees a bit. Just a little. Put your arms over your head.” Click. “You’re a hairy girl, huh?”

“I didn’t have a razor,” she apologised.

“That’s alright, baby. You’re looking very beautiful. Now, put your thumbs in your panties and pull them down a very little bit. Gimme a little tease. That’s it, very pretty, very natural.” Click. “Now take off the bra and dangle it towards me.” Click. “Can you pinch your nipples for me?”

The lips of her fingers held her nipples, rubbing them until they were erect.

“Good girl.” Click. “Now put your left hand in your panties and hold your breast with your right.”

She felt the softness of her skin in her hand. Her fingers played with her pubic hair.

Click.

“Very good. Muy linda.” Click. “Now I want you to lie on your back and remove your panties. Very slowly.”

She laid on the wood floor and slowly pulled down the panties.

“Point your toes, always point your toes,” he breathed. Click. “Now, play with yourself.”

She hesitated and sat up. “But…”

“You don’t want to?” He backed away a few steps and lowered the camera.

“I… I don’t… I never…” she stammered.

“I’ll walk you through it for the photos. Then I’ll give you a toy and take a little video. Alright?” She nodded. “Good. Now, take your hand and slide one finger into that tight pussy for me, baby.” Click. “Do you know where your clitoris is?” She shook her head. “Open your lips for me, baby,” he said. Click. “Now let your thumb travel up until you feel that button. A little further. Oh, you found it.” Click. “Look at all that sexy fur. Now, rub that button. Soft, don’t be too rough.” Click. “Slide another finger in. Look at you, getting so wet for me. I can see your pussy juices gleaming on that soft fur.” Click. “Move your fingers in and out slowly. Good…” Click. “Alright, now I’m going to give you this toy and I just want you to do what feels good and pretend the camera isn’t here. Yes?”

He handed her a rabbit and explained how it worked. She laid down and closed her eyes, penetrating herself with the large, purple toy. It hurt at first, but she turned it on and the vibrations loosened her walls. She tried to position it against her clitoris, but the sensation was too much. She pushed the toy in and pulled it out over and over. Her breathing grew heavier and her back arched away from the floor. The vibrations between her legs made her feel as though she needed to pee, but she couldn’t stop. She could feel her heartbeat in every nerve of her body. The wave rushed over her and she screamed, the descent plunging her into the depths of pleasure, and she pulled the toy away and lay on her back, panting and sweating.

“Ay, Dios,” Marcos breathed. “Even I felt that one.”

Her first orgasm.

“Alright, get dressed.” He left the room and she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She tried to think about what just happened, but she couldn’t do that, either.

Finally, she got on her hands and knees and collected her clothing. She dressed and grabbed her backpack. Her eyes fell on the dildo, still vibrating, and she went to turn it off. Then she stuffed it in her bag and went to the front of the house.

“Marcos says you are a natural,” Crazy Eddie said as she entered the room.

“He told me what to do.” She blushed.

“I gave this pendejo your money. Two hundred fifty. Now you can get a new ID.” Marcos winked.

She’d made one hundred fifty dollars.

Easy.

“Well, let’s get you back to the house.” Crazy Eddie stood.

“Thank you, Marcos.” Pig hugged the shirtless man and he kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you. I’ll see you, Crazy Eddie.” He walked them to the door and locked it after them.

In the car, Crazy Eddie smiled at her. “Great photos, Pig. I’m surprised. You did real good. Did you like it?”

She shrugged and closed her eyes. Her arms held the backpack to her chest.

Crazy Eddie laughed. “Let’s get you some McDonald’s. My treat.”

 

 

[Follow the story here. My first novel; a journey we can all take together!]

PORK [Chapter One]

Late Night

Laura stuck her key in the lock, ridge by ridge, and turned it slowly until she heard a click. She held the doorknob in her palm and twisted until the door opened. She held her breath and pushed until the door was open enough to fit her body through.She slid through the crack and closed the door behind her. The deadbolt turned in her fingers and she silently exhaled.

“Where were you all night?”

She turned and faced Johnnie, Johnnie’s wet hair smelling of apples from her shampoo; face twisted in rage masquerading as concern.

“I was out with Lacey, like I told you. I didn’t realise how late it was. I tried not to wake you. I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed.” Laura reached out to touch her arm and Johnnie jerked away.

“I waited up all night for you to come home. I wanted to go to bed hours ago. You’re so selfish.”

Laura shook her head and stepped further inside, walking directly into the kitchen. Johnnie followed, her bare feet slapping against the floor. Laura opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass. The faucet filled the glass with cold water. She turned off the tap and sipped. Waited.

“What did Lacey say? What did you talk about?”

“I told her about your start-up idea and she really liked it. She said she hopes you’ll follow through with it.”

“She’s going to steal it!”

“She’s not going to steal your idea. She doesn’t need to.”

“No, she’s just going to steal you away from me. She hates that we’re together.”

“That’s not true and you know it. What would she do with me?”

Johnnie snarled and snorted. She stamped her feet. “All of your friends hate me.”

“You know that isn’t true. You’re just upset.”

“Of course I’m upset! You left me here all night while you went out drinking with Lacey.”

“She’s your friend, too. She invited you and you didn’t want to come.”

“She’d never speak to me again if you left.” Johnnie wiped the wet hair away from her eyes.

“Stop.” Laura slammed down the glass. “Did you take your meds today?”

“This isn’t about me! This is about you always betraying me. Letting your friends turn you against me.”

“No one is turning me against you. No one is trying. They are your friends, too. You need to sleep.”

“I could have slept if you’d been here tonight.”

“You could have come with.” Laura sighed. “Let’s go to bed.”

They stared at each other, the clock above the stove ticking away the seconds until explosion.

“Maybe I should just leave.”

“Don’t do this now.”

“I’ll just go. I’ll go right now. No one wants me to be here, no one wants me to be with you, and you’re just going to let them keep poisoning you against me! Like you did with Stephanie. Before we got away from her.”

“This doesn’t make sense. You know that Lacey cares about you. She liked your business plan, she asked how you were doing and why you didn’t want to come tonight-”

“And what did you tell her?”

“You aren’t feeling well.”

Johnnie crossed her arms. “She didn’t ask why you didn’t stay home with me? Or did you just make her think I’m being mental? You want your friends to take you away from me. Well, I’ll just go. I’ll just leave!” Johnnie slammed her fist down on the counter and stormed away.

“Stop,” Laura repeated. She followed her into the bedroom. Johnnie moved in and out of their closet. She threw clothes on the floor, aiming at an open suitcase and missing every item.

“You’re making a mess,” Laura stated.

“I can’t be here anymore!” Johnnie shrieked. She pulled at her hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you. If you want to go, fine. I won’t keep you here. But I need to lie down.”

Laura turned away from Johnnie’s neurosis, from the items flying around their bedroom. She laid on the sofa in the living room and closed her eyes. Tried to breathe evenly. She rolled onto her back and crossed her hands over her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Johnnie woke her. “I’m just trying to heal from Stephanie. You’re right. I should have gone to see Lacey tonight. Come to bed.

Laura blinked at Johnnie’s dry hair and wet eyes. She said nothing.

“Please come to bed.” Johnnie kissed Laura’s neck and slid her fingers into Laura’s pants. She rubbed the front of her underwear, then removed her hand and unzipped the pants. She kissed Laura’s lips, pressing hard against her mouth, as she played with Laura’s clit. Laura moaned and wrapped her arms around Johnnie’s neck.

“I love you, Johnnie,” Laura breathed.

Johnnie adjusted her wrists and plunged deeper, penetrating Laura with three digits, against the crotch of Laura’s pants. She moved her wrist against the fabric and dug into Laura, curving her fingers to keep her hand inside. She kissed her neck again and Laura clung to her, panting. Laura reached into Johnnie’s shirt, her fingers caressing the skin of Johnnie’s breasts as she massaged Laura’s wet insides, pressing the buttons she’d memorised through the years of their tumultuous bond. Laura felt the thumping of Johnnie’s heart as her own heart’s crescendo reached climax and she groaned and melted into Johnnie, feeling their bodies fuse. She laid against Johnnie as Johnnie pulled out her hand and bit lightly at Laura’s ear.

“Come to bed.” Johnnie took Laura’s hand and pulled her from the couch. She lead her into the bedroom- over the sea of clothes, toiletries, and shattered glass- to the bed where they laid together and Laura wrapped her limbs around Johnnie and fell back into dreams.

Late Night

The Eyes

He ran his fingers against the wood-panelled wall, watching the cracked skin beneath his hairy knuckles as his hand moved away from him. He watched the fingers drop and brought his palms to his knees.

“Cheap,” he finally spoke. “Must be plastic.” He looked up at the man who stood before him with his arms crossed against his chest and legs wide. “I suppose you’re going to kill me,” he added, staring into the face that glared down at him.

“I’m not into it any more than you are,” the man sighed.

His head bowed. “Insulting.”

Neither man spoke. Through the window, he saw a second man light a cigarette, the smoke curling in the air. The sky greyed with dusk. A clock a few rooms over ticked and tocked. Time felt motionless.

He finally asked, “How are you going to do it?”

“How ever you want to go,” the man answered.

He shook his head. “I’ve never been one for suicide. Can’t say I’ve thought about it.”

“I really hate to do this, Karl. You’ve been around longer than anyone. Even me.”

“Can I get a cigarette?” Karl interrupted, his voice slightly raised. He reached for the tube of tobacco and stood. The man pulled a lighter from his pocket and Karl inhaled the nicotine and exhaled the smoke in his face. “I’m probably not wrong to guess you’ve got a few men out back and even if I managed to get out of here, I’m a dead man walking. So can we skip the formalities, can you not play the gentleman murderer with me? I know who you are.” He took another drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the room. “I don’t regret what I did.”

The man opened his arms. “That’s why you’ve gotta die, Karl.”

“I’ll come back for you,” Karl promised. “Somehow. Everyone else may have died in peace. Let you sleep at night.” More smoke. “Not me.”

“I trusted you like a brother. This isn’t where I thought we’d end. But here we are.”

Karl tossed his head back and bellowed out laughter. “As it is written,” he muttered. Another cloud. “Fratricide. What will you tell Pax?”

The man shrugged. Karl nodded, pinched the cigarette between two fingers, bent over, and lunged at the man in a single motion. The man’s body emitted a creaking noise as the air escaped his lungs. They crashed onto a table and the man swung wildly at Karl, his fist connecting hard against Karl’s jaw. Karl didn’t flinch. He raised his right arm into the air as he brought both of their bodies down to the floor. The man swung again, connecting both fists to Karl’s guts and chest. Karl twisted into the blows and brought himself down on the man’s chest, siting and pinning the man’s arms between his legs. He reached back with his left hand and gripped the man’s testicles, squeezed, twisted, pulled. The man kicked, squirmed, tried to lift his torso. Karl had him pinned. Satisfied, he released his balls and chuckled. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it into the man’s mouth.

“You’ve got them stationed around the house because you knew you couldn’t bring me here alone.” He held the man’s right eye open with his left hand. Legs kicked and missed Karl’s back as he adjusted himself to tighten his grip around the man’s shoulders. “But you had to know I wouldn’t just die.” He brought the cigarette slowly toward the eyeball. “You’re not going to want to struggle so much,” he advised. The cigarette buzzed like the wings of a fly as it touched the ocular fluid. Karl turned the butt against the eyeball, then tossed it away and pushed in his thumb.

The man spat out the saliva-soaked handkerchief and bellowed.

“I’ll be back for the other,” Karl insisted. Feet stampeded into the house. The first shot hit him in the shoulder and he hissed, his jaw clenched. The second shot hit his stomach and he fell on top of the body of the man yelling obscenities beneath him. The man scrambled away from Karl, then threw himself over him, reaching for his neck and squeezing both hands around his throat. The four gunmen stood, pistols pointed at the floor, uncertain of their next move, as the man slowly choked the life from an unresponsive Karl. They put away their weapons one at a time as the man howled and shook a bloody, clearly dead Karl.

Satisfied, he stood and covered his eye.

“Jesus,” one of the shooters exclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up,” the man snapped. “You two, burn him. You-” he pointed at the shooter closest to him. “Get me to a fucking hospital.”

Kara’s eyes blinked open at the dim light of the evening sun slipping through the curtains of her bedroom window. The air smelled of fresh cut grass and wet leaves. She rolled her naked body onto Kylie and kissed the side of her neck.

“It’s raining,” she told her. “Go close the window.”

“You do it,” Kylie snapped. She buried her face in her pillow.

“You’re always so grumpy in the morning.” Kara’s fingers played on the inside of Kylie’s thighs.

“It’s morning?” Kylie groaned into the pillow.

Kara rolled away and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. She looked at the screen and dropped it back on the table. “It’s after 5,” she responded, climbing onto Kylie’s back and massaging her shoulders. “Fuck me and I’ll go get you some coffee.”

“I just woke up,” she moaned.

“That’s when I like you best. Smelly pig.” She reached back and slipped her fingers into Kylie’s panties. “You’re wet,” she smiled.

“Because I have to pee,” Kylie said. She twisted beneath Kara’s thighs and Kara slid onto the mattress and looked up at the ceiling. Kylie turned and put her arm over Kara’s stomach and Kara leaned in to taste the sleep slobber on Kylie’s mouth, their tongues sliding over each other. Kara rolled into Kylie’s arms. She wrapped her leg around Kylie’s waist and pulled aside the cloth covering her labia, wetting her fingertips on the outside of her vagina, rubbing them slowly between her inner labia, teasing out her clitoris. Kylie moaned and bit Kara’s lips, pulling her closer. They breathed in opposite patterns. Kylie groped Kara’s breasts and pinched her nipples as Kara’s fingers entered her. Kara rubbed her clitoris against the smooth skin of Kylie’s thigh to the rhythm of her fingers moving in and out of the wet, soft flesh of Kylie’s insides. She moaned and timed the movement of her hips to the squishing between her legs and ran her tongue over Kara’s mouth.

“This is what you want, you dirty girl,” Kara panted. “Why do you fight it? Now come for me. Come in my hand.” Kara’s own hips moved faster as she slammed her hand into Kylie, palm thumping against her pelvic bone. Kylie’s breathing matched her heartbeat and she cried out as the flood of warm liquid squirted through Kara’s hand and onto the bedsheet. Kara pulled her hand away and shoved her fingers between Kylie’s lips. Kylie sucked desperately, shaking.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Megan announced from the doorway. “Toss a quarter on which of you is going to see Tony tonight.”

Both women sat upright, wide-eyed. Kylie started to hyperventilate and Kara wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “No way,” Kara said. “It’s not our turn.”

Megan raised an eyebrow and folded her hands together. Her perfectly-manicured fingernails tapped beneath her knuckles. “Who’s in charge here? Whose home is this?”

“How can you even send your girls to that maniac once a month?” Kara scolded. Kylie now shook with different vibrations. She burrowed her head into Kara’s shoulder. “You know what he did to Kylie last time. I’d rather leave than go there, than send Kylie back.”

“This is not a negotiation.” Megan straightened her posture. “We have a rotation. If Tony doesn’t get a girl from this house once a month, he’ll burn it to the ground. You know this, we all know this. It was different when Pax- you’re too young to know about that. Go on, get up. Wash up. Get ready. Tony will have a car here at the usual time.”

“I’ll go.” Regina stood behind Megan, a mug in each hand. Megan spun around and Regina quickly raised her arms to avoid spilling.

“He hates you,” Megan replied. Her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip. She glanced back into the room, then faced Regina.

“He won’t remember me,” Regina laughed. “I’ll change my name.”

Megan and Regina stared into each other’s eyes. Megan’s upper lip trembled. She squinted. Regina’s face stayed motionless. Megan turned around.

“Close that fucking window. You want to get mould?” she yelled into the room. Her heels clicked down the hallway as she stamped away.

“She’s going to have a stroke.” Regina walked into the room. “Do you two fuck every evening?” She sat on the end of the bed and passed them the mugs. She wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Smells good,” Kara said. “Stop whimpering, Kylie.”

Kylie brought the mug to her lips. “Fuck, that’s strong,” she spat.

“There’s already a man downstairs,” Regina ignored her. “You’re the last two awake and you’ve got to change the bedspread now. Seriously. Every evening?”

Kara shrugged. “It’s how we get ready. Some of the others do meth. We do each other.”

Regina leaned forward. “Well, you’re missing out on customers. Clean up. I have to go get ready, myself. Don’t want to keep Tony’s guy waiting.” She rolled her eyes and stood. “There’s probably no hot water left!” she called from the doorway.

“Is Megan really going to let her go for us?”

“Looks like it.”

“Why is she doing this?”

Kara got out of the bed. Her bare feet pattered on the floor as she walked to the window and slammed it shut. “I don’t know,” she answered. “She’s probably bored.”

Regina sat in the backseat of the van, sunk in the leather seat. She stared out at the night sky and ignored the driver, who didn’t seem to mind. She wondered if Megan remembered to pay the electric bill and pulled out her phone to start a Sudoku.

She finished five puzzles by the time they arrived at Tony’s. Tony owned the most embarrassingly lavish house imaginable- the kind of place no one reputable would own nor visit. She waited for the driver to open her door and lead her up the stairs. The driver unlocked the front door and guided her inside. She followed him through many hallways until he finally stopped at a door. He knocked twice.

Tony opened the door. He wore a white suit with shiny black leather shoes. A black silk eyepatch rested over his right eye. She looked into the left. The only furniture in the room was a chair and a bare mattress. Tony grunted at the driver, who silently walked away.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. The door closed behind him and she heard it latch.

“Have you been here before?” He squinted at her with his left eye.

She shook her head.

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Karla,” she lied.

He squinted again. “Whatever. Get naked. Take your fucking clothes off.”

She casually took off her shoes, stockings, dress, bra, and panties. She left them in a heap on top of her purse and kicked the pile closer to the door.

He grabbed her by the throat, lifted her into the air, and threw her onto the stained mattress, elevated on cinder blocks. She winced. He swung his hand backward and hard across her face.

“Ah,” she muttered.

“Did Megan send me another doped up bitch?” He said to himself. “Where’s she getting these girls from? Minnie?” He hit her again. She jerked her shoulders and groaned. “That’s better, bitch. Touch yourself.”

Regina put her hands between her legs and rubbed her clit with her left hand as she scooped three fingers from her right into her pussy. Tony unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He pulled the tip of his penis twice and a stream of hot urine waterfalled over Regina’s breasts and thighs. She closed her eyes and continued to rub as the urine pooled around her. She opened her eyes when she felt his fingers wrap around her ankle. He yanked her off the bed and she held her neck forward to avoid hitting her head.

“On your knees, slut,” he ordered. She got on her hands and knees and looked up at him. “Put your face on the mattress.” She turned and lay her cheek against the wet fabric. He pulled off his shoes and pants and grabbed her ass. “Hold it up, you dumb fucking hooker. Who pays this dumb bitch to fuck?” He spread her ass open. “Your asshole looks like it wants to be torn open. Is that what you want, you little whore?” He spat on his fingers and rubbed them against the puckered skin of her anus. He pushed his cock into it. She winced and groaned. He pushed again, harder, and sunk into her to his waist. He lifted her by the hair toward him, and punched her in the head. Her skull bounced off the mattress. She groaned again.

“You don’t want to scream? You fucking doped up whores are worthless.” He lifted his leg and stomped his foot down on her head. His nails dug into her waist as he frenziedly stabbed his cock into her asshole. His fist pummeled against her back. He pulled out.

“You got shit everywhere.” He grabbed her by the back of the neck and bent to push her face to the floor. He wiped her cheek against the wood and pulled her up, holding her head at waist-level. “Open your mouth. Don’t get smart.” She opened her mouth and he shoved his cock down her throat, face-fucking her until she choked. He threw her back onto the mattress. “Is your cunt as shitty as your asshole?” He laughed at his own joke as he pushed her legs open and shoved his cock into her, blanketing her body with his. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her throat. “I could kill you right now,” he whispered. The muscles in his ass tightened as he hammered into her. She choked and he grunted as she contracted around his cock. Grunted twice more and held himself in her as his cock hiccoughed and sneezed inside her. His hand still around her throat, he pulled himself away, lifted her, and threw her to the ground.

“Go home,” he said. He spat in her face.

She crept to the door and dressed: panties, bra, dress, stockings; shoes. She put her purse over her shoulder and waited.

“Get out,” he said. “My driver is waiting.”

“Where’s my money?” She smiled.

He snorted. “Get the fuck outta here.”

“Where’s my money, Tony?”

His left eye glared at her. “Fuck you, bitch.”

She pulled a knife from her purse and triggered the blade. It shone in the light. “I don’t like to ask three times, Tony.”

“Bitch, you must be outta your damn mind. You’re going to pull a knife on me? In my house?” He laughed. “Get out while you can still walk.”

She felt semen drip into her underwear as she stepped silently closer.

His bare feet sounded thunderous as he approached her. He lifted his hand to strike her and she sunk the blade into it.

“Crazy bitch,” he yelled.

“Tony,” she sighed. “I’m being really patient with you right now.”

“Fuck you!” He reached for her and she moved away. She stabbed him again. He jerked back.

“Last chance,” she warned.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he snarled.

Regina screamed, high-pitched and desperate as she lunged at him with the knife. His fist smeared blood across her face. She screamed louder as she attentively stabbed at his gut, chest, and arms. Her screams drowned his and she pushed him back to the mattress. He punched her again and she stabbed him in the bellybutton. His white jacket grew red roses of blood. She pushed him again, still wailing, and he fell onto the mattress. She came down with him.

“You’re not gonna want to struggle so much,” she advised. She opened her mouth, inhaled deeply, and howled as she stabbed the knife into his left eyelid. She yanked it out and brought it into the socket again. The eyeball snapped away as she pulled the knife toward her. She stopped screaming and grabbed the deflated ball of fluid. “Just as good,” she said. His screams echoed through the room. She stood and looked down at her blood-stained dress, closed the bloody knife against her thigh, and put it back into the purse still hanging around her chest. The eyeball resting in her palm, she crossed the room and opened the door.

The driver’s gun pointed at her face. He glanced into the room and shuddered, backing away and lowering the firearm.

“I’m ready to go home,” Regina told him. Her fingers closed around Tony’s eye.

The Eyes

Like Other Girls

I fell in love with Ashland Grace by accident. And I fell in a pit because I wasn’t watching out for myself and that’s how it always happens. Ashland was a kind of lighthouse, bringing me back to shore, but only for show. More of an event horizon- and you can never get close enough, never reach land, never feel her heat.

She’s the type that’ll drive you crazy because you allowed her and I allowed her. There was something in her smile that made me lose myself and she turned it on me every chance she got, confusing me. Drowning me.

I met Ashland while playing bartender at a restaurant owned by a good friend of mine. I thought it was fate that I’d be working that particular night, that she’d be having a bachelorette dinner party at exactly that time, that she’d approached me with exactly enough alcohol in her to make her flirt with me… maybe fate is cruel.

She ordered the largest sugar-filled specialty drink on the menu. I felt her eyes on me as I nearly emptied the bottle of tequila into her drink. She handed me cash in the same hand that grabbed for the glass, brushing my fingers and staring into my eyes with that smile. Her empty hand hovered over the cup and her fingers plucked the cherry from the ice and she stuck the cherry between her lips. The stem pointed at me.

“How long until your friends come to find you?” I asked. I smirked as I pushed the glass toward her and turned to take the drink order of my next customer.

“Sometimes you have to fall out of the nest just to prove you can fly,” she retorted.

“Who came up with that gem?” the man waiting for his drink asked, his eyebrow raised and nostrils flared.

“Hemingway, I think.” She smiled and winked at me. Her fingers danced on the glass before she picked it up and walked away.

“I don’t think Hemingway ever said that,” the man muttered, snatching his beer and giving himself a foam moustache before shuffling down the bar, freeing up the space for more patrons. I liked the guy; he did not like her.

Hemingway was my favourite author and I certainly didn’t recall any passage that sounded like that, but I was prepared to believe anything that came out of her mouth. It was the first sign, that initial itch, and I served drinks all night waiting for her to come back.

I watched her party begin to leave, anxious and trying not to show it. I was busy wiping a glass and staring at her and almost missed the very drunk woman balancing on the bar with a piece of paper in her fingers.

“Ashland said this is for you,” she slurred. Practically threw the paper at me. I looked through the restaurant for that smile and I found it with an added wink.

I was in love before I even unfolded that paper.

It read, “Let me come by later. Make me strong drinks and ignore me. Might be worth it. Ashland Grace.” And her phone number.

I didn’t call that night or even that week. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was inevitable. I would call. I needed to get some upper hand before the weight of her hold crushed me.

I didn’t know how to do it. I’m not bad-looking, I’ve got a good job; I can take care of myself, but girls like Ashland Grace are out of my league in a major way. You can’t keep up with them and you know it the second they speak, but it’s a siren song daring you to try.

So I waited to call, I waited until I met another beautiful girl and I had distractions. One night, while that beautiful girl (Sharon, I believe it was) slept soundly in my bed, I called Ashland.

“Hello,” she answered.

I cleared my throat, thinking about what I was doing and how could she even remember me after all this time? “Have you ever even read Hemingway?” I asked. I immediately regretted this- too obscure for her to remember me. I almost hung up.

There was a brief pause and I felt it all the way to my toes.

“No one has ever waited so long to call me,” she finally answered. “I could be taken already.”

I sighed and hoped she didn’t hear it. She remembered me. She must have been thinking of me as much as I’d thought of her; agonising over my refusal to call. “What are you doing right now?”

“I should be asleep, but I’m on the phone with the world’s best bartender.”

“What if I told you I’m not a bartender?”

“That would explain the hangover I had the morning after you served me alcohol.”

“Favour for the owner.”

“The owner asked you to get me drunk?”

I laughed and my shoulders relaxed. “What if I told you I have a gorgeous girl sleeping in my bed right now?”

“I’d tell you to join her,” she answered. Predictably.

“What if I asked you to join us?” I tried.

She didn’t say anything for long enough that I started to call her name. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said. “You got any coke?”

“No,” I answered, shocked. “But she might?” I recovered. “She usually does, so I’m sure she’s got some tonight.”

“What’s your address?” she asked. I gave it to her. “I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes.” She hung up.

I went to wake Sharon. “I have a friend coming over. She’s cool, you’ll like her. Do you have any coke?”

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“I’ll give you $150 if you share your drugs and hang out here with my friend for a while. Got it?”

Sharon rolled onto her back. “A special night?” she purred. She stuck her leg out at me.

“Two hundred,” I confirmed.

She pulled me down between her open legs and wrapped them around my waist. She kissed me and she tasted like rye bread. I lost myself in her lips. Sharon was one hell of a kisser, I remember.

I put my hand between her thighs and rubbed my fingers into her labia, finding her clitoris and massaging it, feeling her get wetter and using it as a lubricant over my fingers. I kissed her neck and she clung to me and just when I felt the muscles in her thighs tense, I pulled away from her.

“Share,” I said. “And behave.” I put $200 on the table. She put it in her purse.

She threw a pillow at me as I left the room. I went to shower, hoping this was real and I could pull it off.

Ashland showed up an hour later. She rang the doorbell once and immediately started to knock. She hadn’t stopped by the time I reached the door.

“Someone’s a little eager,” I panted.

“I just didn’t want you to miss me.” She strolled in without waiting for a formal invitation. “So, where’s this hot cocaine angel?” she asked.

Sharon bent over the landing and waved. “Up here!”

I followed Ashland up the stairs and she followed Sharon into my bedroom. Sharon opened her arms and fell backwards onto my mattress. On the glass table next to the bed, she’d prepared three fat lines and I saw Ashland eye them and Sharon’s practically naked body.

Ashland started to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

I took a step back, fearing defeat. “What do you mean?”

She pointed at Sharon. “She looks exactly like me.” She laughed again and Sharon joined her.

I regarded them both, but I just didn’t see it. Different eyes, cheekbones, and Sharon did not have Ashland’s mesmerising smile. “I don’t see it,” I admitted.

Ashland looked at Sharon. “You see it, don’t you? Like looking in a mirror.” Sharon shrugged. “It’s uncanny,” Ashland added.

“I don’t question anything anymore,” Sharon said. She sat up and took the rolled-up twenty in her right hand, closing her left nostril with the other and bringing her face down to the powder. She snorted the first line in one short sniff, not leaving a grain behind. “Come on, get happy,” she giggled. She grabbed Ashland’s arm and pulled her down on top of herself.

Ashland looked up at me. “You’re the one who asked for this,” I said, holding my hands in the air.

She picked up the bill and tightened it into a tube, then leaned over the table and took up the next line. She held her face for ten or fifteen seconds before Sharon grabbed her hands and violently kissed her.

Ashland resisted, then her lips responded to Sharon’s and her body melted. Sharon undressed her carefully, not allowing Ashland’s mouth enough freedom to protest, and when they were both wearing only panties, I saw it- but only in their differences.

When dressed, they could easily pass for sisters. Naked, their bodies were dissimilar and it outlined the differences in their faces enough that I could finally see it- I’d been sharing a bed with Ashland’s doppelganger.

Now these two near-twins were kissing in my bed, their wet tongues licking each other’s lips. Their skin rubbing together and creating a friction inside of me. They were two attached faces and an alluring mess of limbs and I stood frozen, watching. Watching Sharon’s hands inch their way into Ashland’s panties and Ashland arch her back and purr into Sharon’s mouth. I watched Sharon pull aside Ashland’s panties and insert three fingers between her perfect, wet labia and Ashland moaned as Sharon thrust the fingers in and out.

I watched as Ashland’s fists gripped my sheets and her mouth opened on Sharon’s and she groaned and shuddered and collapsed and Sharon didn’t stop thrusting her wrist and Ashland screamed and Sharon thrust harder and faster and Ashland’s inner dam released all over my damn bed.

Sharon pulled her fingers away and let Ashland kiss her before shoving the wet fingers in her mouth. Ashland sucked them dry.

“That was incredible,” Ashland whispered.

“Uh-huh,” Sharon answered. She sprung up and cleaned every remaining particle of cocaine from the table.

I sat on the bed, feeling the puddle Ashland made.

“So you’re a squirter,” I said, smiling at her.

“I don’t know. I guess. Sometimes.”

“Can I try?” I asked.

She looked at me. “Can I have a drink first? Maybe something with tequila?”

I brought her back a margarita and she and Sharon were snorting more cocaine.

“You gotta party when you can,” Ashland shrugged.

I handed her the margarita. “Fresh lemons,” I said.

She took the glass. I didn’t know if it was the condensation or my own consternation that left my hands so wet, but I remember thinking I shouldn’t wipe them on myself, so I wiped them on my comforter.

She sipped the drink, staring over the top of the glass at me. At my eyes, watching her. And she smiled and drained the glass.

I didn’t even see Sharon anymore. I pounced on Ashland, my teeth biting her neck, my hands forcing her shoulders down onto what I thought was my pillow. She tore at my clothes and I struggled to pin down her hands, blanketing her. When she stopped fighting me, I ripped off her panties and worked three fingers into her. Slow. Easy. Then a fourth. Then my thumb, then uppercut into her until my wrist disappeared.

“Oh no, oh no. Oh fuck,” she gasped.

I could feel her womb sucking my wrist inside, creating a vacuum that held me inside of her. We were one. I twisted and she cried out.

“Wait, not yet,” I told her. And I relaxed my fist and kissed her lips, coconut oil and peaches. And I rammed my fist as fair as it would go and bent my fingers inside of her until she dripped and flowed onto my arm, shaking and muttering. She looked up at me and I felt her change.

I pulled my fingers out slowly.

“Yeah,” Ashland nodded. “Yeah. You’re good.”

I shrugged and looked down. We were lying on top of Sharon, who was now covered with Ashland’s fluids.

“Wow,” Sharon said. “Wow. Alright.” She pushed and forced her way out and got out of the bed, searching the floor for her clothes. She dressed quickly and I watched. When she grabbed her purse, she said to me, “I guess I’ll call you.”

“Yeah. Alright,” I said.

She stared at me, then looked at Ashland. “Great,” she said.

She stormed out and I didn’t follow her. I heard the door slam.

“Maybe I should go, too,” Ashland said. She sat up.

I panicked. “That was just the drugs,” I explained. “Please stay.”

“I don’t want to get crazy on you, too,” she smiled. She grabbed her clothes from the bed and floor and was dressed before I could stand.

I followed her downstairs.

“Please. Don’t go. Let’s talk,” I begged.

“Maybe next time,” she said. She smiled again, so I stepped closer.

“That was just Sharon being melodramatic. She’ll be fine in the morning. Come back to bed.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “I’ll call you,” she said. She kissed my cheek.

I couldn’t let her go. I grabbed her arm. “Please.”

She laughed. “Don’t be desperate,” she said.

I squeezed a little, just enough to let her know I wanted her there. “Now that you’re here, you can’t just go.”

Her smile faded and her eyes opened wide. “Let me go,” she said.

“One more drink,” I insisted. I gestured toward the kitchen.

“Let me go!” she snatched her arm away from me and ran out of the door.

I shouldn’t have let them have the cocaine. It ruined what could have been a perfect night. Drugs always do.

I looked through my phonebook for the information I’d found on her. I looked up the address of her office and saved that, too. I would go to er and take her for lunch- not tomorrow, but maybe later in the week. Apologise. Bring her flowers. We’d connected and she couldn’t ignore that.

The drugs would wear off and we could talk.

The Friday of the following week, I bought a dozen pink roses and sweet-talked my way to her floor. I could see all of the women whispering into their hands at the roses. I hoped to impress Ashland as much.

She was, at least, surprised to see me. “Why are you here?” Wide-eyed, she looked at the women whispering around me. “You’re going to get me fired,” she hissed. She grabbed the flowers and stuffed them under her desk.

“A cubicle seems somehow beneath you,” I said. It was true. She deserved a throne.

“Please leave.”

“It’s almost noon. Let me take you to lunch.”

Her eyes stretched across her face. “I can’t. You have to go.”

I crossed my arms. “You must be having lunch soon.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled. I waited. She said, “If I agree to have lunch with you, will you fucking leave?”

I smiled at her, praying for her to reciprocate. She didn’t. I nodded. “I’ll wait downstairs,” I told her.

I took an elevator down. Ten minutes later, she met me at the doors. She glared at me. “I can’t believe this. You are unbelievable. You’re at my work, for Christ’s sake.”

“I just want to apologise for that night.”

She blinked at me. “You could have called. This- what you’re doing- is inappropriate.”

“I wanted to give you some space.” I was bewildered. The gesture was romantic, something you’d see in a movie. She should have loved it.

She wasn’t like other girls.

She must have felt she didn’t deserve me, my kindness. She was obviously humble, working a cubicle job when she could have- could be- so much more. I wanted to help her. To save her.

“You need to go. Now. It was a fun night but I’m not looking for anything serious. So please. Go.”

“I’m truly sorry if I offended you. I misunderstood. I’ll go.”

She smiled at me and it hurt. The smile was different, it wasn’t hers, it was forced; sad. I cringed. She reached out and squeezed my hand. I left.

I agonised over the meaning of that smile for weeks. I tried to call, after a while, but she was never at her phone. In not too much longer, her voicemail was full. The security guard at her office talked me away from the elevators and walked her to her car when she clocked out. It felt like a stab to my heart, a misrepresentation of the situation, and I vowed never to think of her again. But she wouldn’t leave. I pushed her out and she wouldn’t go. When I could sleep, she manipulated my dreams. Everything I consumed was her consuming me.

I loved her and I just needed her to know that.

So I went to her house, prepared to go full Say Anything on her. But, before I could even knock, I caught a glimpse of her in a window, wrapped in the arms of a very large man.

I couldn’t contain my emotions and I must have yelled because they both turned and looked at me, mouths open.

Only she came out, walking barefoot to the sidewalk where I stood, waiting.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. Her arms were crossed; eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “You understand now? You’ve gotta go.”

“Who’s that man?” I inquired, calm and breathing evenly.

“That man is my husband. I love him very much. So I’m asking you to please leave. This is crazy.”

“Am I being crazy? I just wanted to talk to you, to explain- I brought you more flowers.” I reached out to her, but she wouldn’t accept them.

“You’re at my house right now,” she stated.

“You’ve been to my house,” I countered.

“I didn’t give you my address.”

“But you gave me your name and number. Can we just talk? We shared something so special. Admit it.”

She said nothing. Her eyes made me small.

“I love you,” I tried.

She scoffed. “Go home,” she said.

“Come with me.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’m calling the police.”

I grabbed her arm as she turned away. “How can you be so cold? How can you crush my heart? This is evil.”

She spun around. “I don’t owe you anything. I don’t know you! My husband is calling the cops right now. Get your fucking hands off me.”

I let her go and she ran inside. “You can’t treat people like this!” I shouted after her. They looked out of the window at me. I decided not to wait for the police.

I haven’t seen her since, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I know she was right, she doesn’t deserve me. But she stays. In the shower, at work, in my car- she mocks me. And now there’s the restraining order she’s after and I will go before a judge and explain and hope that judge understands my love, my devotion.

And sees it for what it is.

Like Other Girls

The Lawyer’s Fiancee

Note from Verta: This may or may not be a prequel to everybody’s favourite priest story

 

Look. I’m gonna need you to just be still and be patient. Did you hear that? All your screaming into that gag does is get on my nerves and it’s common sense not to piss off a man shaking a gun in your face. Is that what you’re trying for? Nah, I didn’t think so.Now, I know you must be wondering: “Why is this lunatic motherfucker tying me up and gagging me and driving me to the middle of nowhere to point a gun at me?” That’s a good question, one that deserves answering, and I am reasonable enough, so I’ll clarify some things for you, Mr Big Bad Lawyer. Your charming fiancee is my wife and I want her back.

And we’re going to do this, this exchange, and we’re going to be real calm and make it real easy, because there’s no other way this is going to go but the way it’s gotta be. Maybe you’re feeling brave and having thoughts about saving her from her crazy ex, but it’s pointless. She doesn’t need saving- from me or you or God or anybody. Trust me. She’s the devil and she is never going to love you. She barely loves me and I’ve worked on her for ages. Almost forever I’ve been there for her and she’s got no loyalty, no sense of devotion. She’s always gonna do whatever it is she wants to do. Gotta love her for that.

Do you love her? Do you tell her you love her? I told her all the time, whenever I looked at her. She is too damn easy to love. I’m sorry for you. I bet you really love her. I’m not trying to take her from you; it’s not like she’s yours- or mine, for that matter. But what’d she think? That her past wasn’t dark enough to throw a shadow over her future? I mean, what is she thinking? Getting in the papers with you? That is going to make things so ugly for us. Not that she gives a damn.

I’ve watched you for a few weeks. I thought maybe you were a mark, that it was all a trap, but I could see that you were different. Maybe she even wants to love you. She does it so easy, blends in to your classy fucking life, you know how? Because she thinks she deserves it. She gets everything she wants because she believes she deserves it. I didn’t enter this world by myself, dammit. And she’s not going to leave me in it!

Ha. Just look at me. I’m a mess. I’m not usually this verbose, I don’t talk so much, but I’m excited today. So forgive me if I’m getting on your nerves, but I just need you to know. I need you to know who she is. And it’s not like you can go anywhere or contribute to the conversation. You’re my prisoner until she frees you. So just listen. Better than sitting here and staring at each other.

There are too many good stories. I could keep you entertained for weeks. But I’ll just tell you about her before she disappeared on me the last time.

We’d just hit this bank. It’s caused a shitstorm in my life since, but when we got away with all that money, we were riding clouds. So we’re staying in this nice hotel and fucking the sun up and out of the sky and she leaves the hotel one night to get some takeout and comes back to the room empty-handed and with hell in her eyes. See, she never panics. Not so you can tell, anyway. But she gets this look and you can see she’s trying to keep the atmosphere from strangling her.

“What’s wrong?” I got out of bed and ran to her, cock and balls slapping against my thighs. She just pushed me away.

“You’ve been to jail and now you’re going back.” She was so calm.

Of course, I had no fucking idea what she was talking about, so I said as much.

“What the fuck did you touch?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your fingerprints! They found your prints, you fucking asshole.”

I just sat back on the bed. What could I even say? If you had any idea of how much we’d gotten away with before the fucking bank.

She sat next to me and removed her shoes. She said nothing more.

“How?” I asked as she pulled off her shirt.

“You touched something and now your face is all over the news.” She kicked her shorts from her ankles. “You’re going to jail- back to jail, I guess, if they already had your prints.”

I’ve never been to jail, but it didn’t seem the time to be having that conversation. “There’s no way I left prints,” I insisted.

“Then why did I just see your face on TV, reflecting off a store window, like some character in a movie?”

Well, she got me there and we both knew it. She fell back onto the mattress.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said, not knowing what to say.

“How about, ‘Sorry I fucked up again.’?” she suggested. She brought the upper half of her body up to face me, leaning on her elbows. “Will you fuck me so I can think?”

Oh, I can tell by your eyes that you’ve been there. How she’s “in her best headspace” with a cock thumping inside of her.

And she gets what she wants, of course, so I turned over and kissed her. Her lips tasted exactly like sugar cookies, I remember. The flesh of her breasts felt too soft in my rough hands and my tongue left trails of saliva around her nipples. I pushed aside her thighs to fit my own between them and I don’t know if it was the danger of knowing we were close to the end, way before we were ready, or just the smell of her- open and waiting- but, I swear, I had the biggest, hardest stiffy I’ll probably ever see. Below, her lips parted, and I brought my mouth to the pair above as I pierced her. She moaned and turned her head, rubbing her face against the side of a pillow. I traced the outline of her earlobe with my tongue and pressed my palms against her waist and just railed her until her screams triggered something in my taint and my cock twitched as it emptied blanks at her womb. Her legs shook around me. She had her big toe up my ass.

Oh, you don’t like hearing about someone else fucking your soon-to-be wife? Another thing we have in common.

So, we’re lying there breathing into each other’s bodies when she just starts hitting me. And I let her wear herself out, because it’s the best way to handle her rage. Eventually, she let me climb off of her. My toes were digging into the carpet path to the bathroom door when I stopped dead on that fucking trail.

Because she said it.

“We have to get married.”

And I love her, now, and any other day, I would give a testicle to hear those words, but on that day? Didn’t seem the best idea.

“My face is on the news and you want to tie yourself to me now? Starfucker.”

“It’s the only way we can still go through with our plan.”

“I’m not going to turn you in. They don’t know anything about you and it’ll stay that way,” I promised.

“Why am I always the only one who thinks about the future?” She looked at the ceiling. My load dripped out of her and onto the hotel sheets. “Listen. I know a guy that will marry us in a courthouse and by the time any cops get ahold of those records, we’ll be far away from there. Got it? We’ll get married and when you’re in jail, I can visit you. Do you understand?”

I understood, alright. She was always thinking of the bigger picture, of specific, targeted vengeance, not just a general revenge against the world. If I hadn’t wanted her as a wife before that moment, I was her husband then for sure.

So we drove across two states and some man I’d never seen nor heard of married us and we signed some papers and we were husband and wife. Legal names, even. I remember she wore this faded sundress and she was barefoot because her sandal broke and she refused to remove her sunglasses because she had a wicked hangover. But she looked so beautiful and I could not wait to consummate our nuptials, if you catch what I’m tossing to you.

I carried her over the threshold of our motel room and laid her on the bed. She giggled and kicked her feet as I kissed her neck.

“Can you walk to that liquor store we passed and grab some champagne for your wife?” She stared up at me with those big, beautiful eyes.

I lifted her dress and blew against the skin on her stomach. Then I kissed both of her thighs.

“Anything for my wife,” I said. I radiated love down on her and she glowed in it. Then I put the key card in my pocket and blew her a kiss before closing the door behind me.

I know what you’re thinking, pal, and I’m thinking it right now, too. But, back then, I practically ran to that store. It was still open, though I couldn’t tell when I arrived. There was not a single car in that parking lot. Inside, the aisles had practically no light. I couldn’t read the bottles no matter how hard I squinted. Of course they had no champagne, so I grabbed what I hoped was a white wine and walked to the register.

“Como estas?” asked the cashier.

“Pretty good, man,” I replied, feeling pretty good.

The register dinged. “Nueve,” he said. He held up nine fingers. I gave him a twenty dollar bill, grabbed the bottle, and left the store.

I didn’t run back. It was a cool evening and I really did feel better than I can remember ever feeling. You probably remember your first wedding day, all those emotions. It felt good to be walking back to the woman who wanted to marry me.

So you can just picture my shock when I pushed open our door and she was gone. Gone, of course, gone- and replaced by a goddamn naked man, gagged and tied to the bed, eyes staring at some spot on the ceiling; a bullethole in his head and some nice bloody art spread across the wall behind him.

On the bedside table, she’d left a note:

“He turned you in.”

I looked at his face. Beneath the hole, I recognised the only bank teller I’d left alive.

“Goddamn sonofabitch traitorous fucking cunt!” I howled. I cursed her a lot more before realising I should not be in a room alone with a dead man, if you took all the facts into consideration.

So I ran outside.

She’d taken the car.

I have no idea how she did all of it, but I have less of an idea how she pulled it all off without me having any idea.

She left with a good amount of money, but not all of it. I walked for days before I bought a car with a wad of cash. And I just drove. Stayed quiet. Waited.

I didn’t think to look for her. She’s a natural fucking Houdini and she always reappears. But then I see her in the paper with you. And I stay calm- as I said, you were obviously being scammed. You wouldn’t be the first. And I find you and she’s here, living some fairy tale happily-ever-after life with a doting fiance and loyal servants and I could fucking see it- she’s comfortable. Like she belongs here. Like this is her real life.

I see what you think: if I truly love her, why won’t I let her be happy? Nice and naive. We aren’t bound together by happiness. We are together because of Fate. Our destiny is more than this, more than our desires, more than either of us separately. She can’t escape any more than I can.

You don’t want to be married to a psychopath like her, anyway. I’ve looked into you and you couldn’t be straighter. Society dinners and a rich fuck’s idea of justice. You can do be-

SHIT! Jesus, you nearly blew out my eardrum! You couldn’t even say goodbye before killing your loving future husband? You’ve always been cold. Did you pick up that other body? Good girl. Let’s light ’em up. We’ve got a lot to talk about.

The Lawyer’s Fiancee

City Life

Aurelie licked her lips and arched her back against the brick wall. She kicked out one high-heeled foot and eyed the cars that drove by slowly. Her dress strap fell from her shoulder and she let it rest against her arm. The chill in the night gave her goosebumps but the warmth within her prevented her shivering.

She’d positioned herself on the corner so that the streetlamp illuminated just enough of her to leave a tantalising mystery. She knew she wouldn’t wait long for someone to stop, but she could wait forever.

She tried to peer through the windows of the slowing cars, but it was much too dark. She thought about Frank and wondered about the tie when a car parked and a man stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

“Hello, sailor,” she said. She pushed away from the wall and walked into the light. The cold stuck her nipples to the thin fabric of her dress. Naturally, his eyes focused there.

“How much?” he asked.

“Twenty bucks,” she automatically replied. Her lips curled and her tongue ran against them.

“Twenty?” he repeated.

“What’s the matter, sailor? Your pockets not go that deep?”

He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a crisp bill. He held it out to her and grasped her hand tightly as she took it. She stared into his eyes and ripped her hand free.

“Over here,” she said. She motioned for him with her finger and led him into a dark alley. She hid herself behind a large dumpster and pressed her back against it. When he stood in front of her, she unzipped his pants with one hand and freed his cock with the other. In six strokes he was erect. She knelt before him, gravel rolling against her knees, and took a condom out of her panties. She opened it with three fingers, and slipped the condom onto him with her lips. She stood and lifted one leg around his waist and guided him between her legs. He groaned as he penetrated her.

“What is that?” he asked.

“My diaphragm.”

“No, it’s-”

“Shhh,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and he held her against the metal of the dumpster. It felt ice cold against her skin. He pushed his hips into her.

She relaxed the muscles of her anus and began to push. She felt something free itself and reached beneath her to catch it.

“Hey sailor,” she said. “You like the way my pussy feels? I bet you want to fill it up. You wanna fill me up, sailor? Blow your load into my tight whore cunt? Tell me you love fucking my little slut pussy. Say you can’t get enough of it.”

“I love your little whore pussy,” he groaned.

She pressed the button against her palm and heard the blade’s release. She reached up with her left hand and held the back of his head as she drove the blade into his neck with her right hand and pulled her arm sideways. The blood squirted into her face and down her own throat and she laughed as he stumbled backwards and held his neck. He tried to get away from her and fell over, still attached to her. She brought her butt to his waist and stabbed into his eyes and mouth. Still laughing, she plunged the knife in and out until he stopped moving. Gravel stuck to her knees as she knelt next to him, pulling off the condom and pushing his body over for his wallet. She shrieked when she opened it.

“You’re trolling corners with only sixty in cash? You fuck.” She took the bills and replaced the wallet, now sticky with bloody fingerprints. She kicked his body and searched for his keys.

“Gotcha.” She raised them in the air in celebration.

In his car, she found nothing of value. She popped the trunk and discovered only a case of beer. She took the beer and slammed the trunk closed. Better than nothing. She walked for half a mile before she saw Frank’s van.

He opened the door for her and she handed him the beer and climbed in after it.

“Jesus, you are fucking unhinged. You just walk around like this?”

She pulled the cash from her crotch and tossed it at him. “Only sixty bucks- including the twenty he gave me, that fuck. Hand me a beer.”

Frank opened the case and gave her a can. “Nothing in the vehicle?”

“Just this.” She popped the tab and emptied the can into her throat. She burped.

“You are fucking nasty.” He grimaced.

“‘s’why you love me. Hey, I could probably do a few more tonight.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“You say this as though you don’t fuck men and don’t know what they’re like. Give me the wipes.”

Frank pushed himself out of the driver’s seat and knelt down in the back of the van, searching with his hands for the package of baby wipes. When his fingers crumpled the plastic, he picked it up and threw it at the front of the van. It fell from the windshield, bounced off of the dashboard, and landed in her lap.

“Hey, nice throw,” she exclaimed. She flattened the beer can on her bare knee and dragged a wipe across her forehead. Frank returned to his seat and silently watched her clean herself. When she’d discarded half a dozen wipes, she grinned at him. “Am I clean?”

He rolled his eyes. “As good as you’ll get without a shower. We should move on.”

“With sixty dollars? I’m sorry, but fuck that. I can make more tonight. I’m going back out.

“You just want to get caught. I’ll leave your crazy ass behind, I swear I will.”

“I’m not leaving without more money,” she insisted.

“It’s not about the money with you and you know it,” he snapped.

She shrugged. “I’ve heard this all before, Frank, you melodramatic bitch. We both know I’m going to get my way, so what’s the use in scolding me?”

“You’re the bitch.” He lit a cigarette and cranked the handle to lower the window.

“You wanna eat my pussy? I didn’t get to come.”

“Is it covered in blood, too?” He exhaled smoke in her face.

She looked down to her lap, pulled her dress to her neck, and thumbed her panties aside. “Nope!” she answered. “Clean as I’ll ever be.”

He shrugged. “I’m good.”

Her lower lip extended and quivered. “You’re so bad to me.”

He laughed and blew more smoke into her face. “You’ll get over it. Break time’s over. Are you really gonna go out again?”

“Hell yeah. I’m going back.”

“Can you at least change your dress?”

It was her turn to search the back of the van. She threw clothes around and he smoked and watched her. She pulled the bloody dress over her breasts slowly and lay in the mess she created.

“You sure you don’t wanna put your face between my legs right now?” She opened her thighs and ran her right hand slowly down her torso and into her stained cotton underwear. Her left thumb and index finger rolled her nipple. She wet her lips. “Or maybe you can just put it in me.”

“You’re not tempting me, witch. If I want to be mad at you, I will. Get dressed so we can go. You’re worse than a dog back there when this thing’s moving.”

She sat and reached over the seat to grab her knife. She lay back and relaxed her throat and stomach and carefully pushed the handle back into her ass. She sat and pulled another dress over her head and shoulders, then crawled back into the passenger seat, where she crossed her arms over her chest. The van grumbled as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine coughed and roared in response. She uncrossed her arms and reached out to hold his hand. He caressed her fingers then laced his own between them.

Thirty minutes later, he parked. “This is the last one tonight. Alright, Aurelie? Got it? Last one tonight and then we gotta get out of here. Nod like you’re not stupid.”

She nodded and rolled her eyes.

“Good enough. Now move, go. Get out.”

She opened the door, hopped to the ground, and wiggled her fingers at the window as she closed the door.

Her legs carried her west for ten minutes until she found an isolated and dimly-lit corner. A car stopped seconds after her. She looked through the open window.

“Hey, sailor,” she purred. “You think I didn’t notice you following me? ”

“How much?”

“Twenty.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Looks like your lucky night.” She half-smiled.

“Get in the car.”

“No, we do it out here.” She pointed across the street at a dark, empty space between two buildings.

“So your pimp can kick my ass and rob me?”

“You’ve been following me long enough to see I don’t got a pimp, sailor.”

“Maybe you led me here to him.”

“You see anyone else around?”

“He’s probably waiting over there.”

She huffed and looked at both sides of the street. The passenger side door creaked when it opened and she climbed in the backseat. He got out of the driver’s seat and joined her.

“Mmm. You’re a pretty little thing, huh. Spread those legs and lemme see that little pussy.”

She slowly opened her legs and lifted her dress to reveal her panties. He pushed them to the side and rubbed her lips.

“Mmhmm, you’re already wet, you little whore. You wanna make this money, don’t you. Want me to fuck that tight, wet pussy until you cry? Is that what you want?”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

“That’s what you’re going to get, you little slut.” He unzipped his pants and his fingers moved around inside until it came back with his dick. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed it down onto his lap. She tried to reach where the condom fell and he slapped her hands away from her thighs.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he said, forcing her head onto his cock. “This is about me right now. Open your mouth. I said open your fucking mouth right fucking now, whore.” He grabbed the back of her neck tightly as he shoved his cock down her throat. “Choke on it, you fucking bitch.” He groaned and pulled her neck, tossing her and hitting her head against the window. “I don’t want to take my time with you. You don’t fucking deserve it.” He slapped her across the face, then yanked her legs apart and pulled her beneath him. He quickly placed himself between her legs and thrust into her without looking. “Oh, you’re a tight little whore. You must be new, that’s a tight fucking pussy. What’s that up your ass, little slut? A buttplug? Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up there, too. I’m just enjoying this tight wet hole I got right now, but I’ll fuck all of your holes.” She looked up into his eyes and he pressed his palm against her face, turning her head. “Who said you could look at me, whore? You don’t care whose dick is in you, just as long as you get fucked.” He thrust into her hard and she grunted. “You like that?” He thrust harder and she cried out. He shifted and wrapped both hands around her throat. “You wanna die as I come inside you, dirty bitch?” He thrust in faster. “Then I can have you here all night. Fuck that tight little asshole, too. Oh, you’re tightening around me. You like that? You gonna come like the good little slut you are?”

She smiled up at him as he choked her. She relaxed and let the knife slide out of her as he pulled out and shoved his cock into her, his back arched and arms weighing down on her throat. She brought the knife slowly to his side.

“You’re going to come, you little slut. Are you going to squirt? Am I going to make you squirt?”

She released the blade and tried to inhale. His thumb pressed down harder.

“You fucking slut. You’re not even fighting back. You want this, you little whore.”

She quickly swung her arm through the air, sunk the blade into the flesh of his neck, twisted it, jerked her hand to the side, and snatched the blade back. Blood rushed onto her face in a dam burst, fast and wet and warm. He gasped, grabbed his throat in his right hand, and landed his left fist into the right side of her face. She laughed, choking on oxygen, and drove the blade quickly in and out of his side until he hit her again. She twisted beneath him and cut at his dick. He tried to scream and more blood splattered against her skin.

“Just fucking die,” she giggled. She stabbed up at him and let the blade decide where to hit until he fell against the window and stopped fighting. His breathing shallow, he stared at her as his chest struggled to keep him alive. Then his chest stopped moving and his eyes no longer saw her.

She immediately lunged at his body and searched for his wallet. She dropped the cash out of it and quickly recovered it, hastily moving into the light to count. Two hundred. Not bad. She crawled into the front seat, leaving a blood trail on the upholstery. Nothing in the glovebox. She checked the centre console and pulled out a piece of paper.

She inhaled sharply as she held it in the light, then laughed abruptly and loudly.

A completely-intact money order for $5000.

She tried not to smear more blood as she stored it in her panties. She leaned over to the backseat and kissed the man’s dead lips. “I love you, you maniac,” she squealed. Then she took off her shoes, opened the car door, and ran.

She didn’t stop running until she opened Frank’s van door and climbed inside.

He jumped. “Aurelie, you fucking idiot. You did not just run through the streets like that!”

Her face turned to him, the eyes wide. “DRIVE, Frank!”

The car started in complete agreement and Frank slowly drove away.

“What the fuck,” Frank finally managed.

She took the cash from her shoes and laid it in the cupholder. “Two hundred.” She grabbed the wipes and quickly cleaned her hands.

“For this? You look like a fucking horror flick.”

“No, stupid.” She took the paper out of her panties. “For this.”

He glanced at it. “What’s that?”

She laughed. “Five thousand dollars, Frank!”

“Get the fuck out.” He grabbed the paper from her and read it. Then he laughed. “Yeah!” he howled.

“Total fucking freak, but so worth it. God, I love it when they talk. It makes it so much easier.” She leaned over his seat and kissed his cheek. “Let’s burn this shitheap and buy another.”

“That’s a good idea. God, I love you.” He kissed her back.

“I know,” she said. “You think you’ll get as lucky at the next place?”

He chuckled. “I fucking doubt it, but I hope so.”

She smiled and held out her hand. He looked at the stained fingers, at her dirty face, then back at the windshield as he pressed his palm against hers. He entered the freeway, the city lights winking their goodbyes in the rearview mirror.

City Life