Read Online Pages Torn From a Travel Journal by Edward Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Edward Lee
Ads: Link
at her clitoris with the other, somehow milking pleasure from what must have been eyeball-rolling pain. However, more than pleasure was milked next, when, sensing imminent crisis, Septimus withdrew the monstrous organ, hitched forward, & then Bliss’s deformed yet adroit feet masturbated the pulsing shaft as she herself leaned closer with eyes closed & mouth opened. A literal salvo of opalesescent spurts emptied directly into her mouth–an inhuman volume. Then the single throb of her throat signaled her swallowing it all.
When I backed away from that awful peep-hole–truly the eye of Hell–I dazedly noticed all of the other peepers had departed, leaving lines of their own spent seed on the tent canvas. The madness of what I saw–indeed, the madness of this entire wretched enterprise –left me mad myself, mad as a babbling alley vagrant. Common sense was now beyond my ken; at once, I knew what I must do: I must somehow smuggle Bliss out of this infernal place, & take her away forever. I would spirit her away to Providence with me. I would discover some way to see to it that her life of forced debauchery at the hands of her petty satrap of a husband would be over forever. I would find a way to support her even in the harsh light of the truth that I could barely support myself.
Oblivious now to the roiling crowd & boisterous chatter, I waited outside the entrance of the execrable Red Walk, my mind’s eye bruised from the outrage of what I’d witnessed inside. An hour’s time had passed since our last meeting, & an hour was what she’d asked me to wait. An utter nervousness overcame me. What would I say? How could I convince Bliss–a beautiful woman in spite of her disabilities–to come away with me, a writer of the poorest strata, a spindly form & otherwise unemployable recluse & none-too-handsome nervous wreck?
But the hour had passed, then so did half of the next one, yet Bliss had not yet shown herself. I began to pace back & forth along the midway’s edge, oblivious to the barkers, jugglers, stilt-walkers, etc., deaf to the screaming clang of railed thrill-rides thundering overhead. Soon it was as though my volition had been expropriated by some supernatural agency, & when my watch told me Bliss was now more than an hour late, said agency puppeteered me back into the guarded maw of the Red Walk. Blank-faced, I paid another entrance fee, then waded through the familiar red-lit murk. “Back again, eh, Mister?” one of the rousters jawed at me. “So it seems,” I replied, then he: “Back for more lookin’, or is it doin’ you’re after now?” “Doing,” I blurted. “Previous counsel has led me to believe that time with a woman can be arranged at the end of the walk. Might this be true?” “Previous counsel, huh?” the ruffian chuckled. “If you got the copper in yer pocket, yeah. Down there. They got gals who’ll do things ta yer willy you ain’t never thought of.” I passed him then, as though his very existence had expired, cantering my way to the terminus of the carnal labyrinth. The tent-flap leading to what could only be the bordello seemed to glide toward me rather than me toward it, where the largest of the musclemen stood guard, massive arms crossed. One side of the brute’s face was scar-lined; in a pure Irish dialect he asked, “Top a the evenin’ to ya, Sir. What’ll it be?”
“Bliss,” I said.
“Aye, she’d be for all of us if we had our way, but not for you, not tonight.”
In an instant, I grew enraged. “And why not, Sir? This is a business enterprise, is it not? Where the company of a woman may be procured in exchange for funds deemed sufficient?”
“Oh, I know what it ‘tis you’re after, lad. A dick-suckin’ from Bliss is a sweet deal indeed, and she’s sucked mine on many occasion–and likewise sucked on my billfold as well”–he laughed, while I remained deadpan. “Aye, you must’a heard that she’s got not a tooth in her mouth.”
“She was born
When I backed away from that awful peep-hole–truly the eye of Hell–I dazedly noticed all of the other peepers had departed, leaving lines of their own spent seed on the tent canvas. The madness of what I saw–indeed, the madness of this entire wretched enterprise –left me mad myself, mad as a babbling alley vagrant. Common sense was now beyond my ken; at once, I knew what I must do: I must somehow smuggle Bliss out of this infernal place, & take her away forever. I would spirit her away to Providence with me. I would discover some way to see to it that her life of forced debauchery at the hands of her petty satrap of a husband would be over forever. I would find a way to support her even in the harsh light of the truth that I could barely support myself.
Oblivious now to the roiling crowd & boisterous chatter, I waited outside the entrance of the execrable Red Walk, my mind’s eye bruised from the outrage of what I’d witnessed inside. An hour’s time had passed since our last meeting, & an hour was what she’d asked me to wait. An utter nervousness overcame me. What would I say? How could I convince Bliss–a beautiful woman in spite of her disabilities–to come away with me, a writer of the poorest strata, a spindly form & otherwise unemployable recluse & none-too-handsome nervous wreck?
But the hour had passed, then so did half of the next one, yet Bliss had not yet shown herself. I began to pace back & forth along the midway’s edge, oblivious to the barkers, jugglers, stilt-walkers, etc., deaf to the screaming clang of railed thrill-rides thundering overhead. Soon it was as though my volition had been expropriated by some supernatural agency, & when my watch told me Bliss was now more than an hour late, said agency puppeteered me back into the guarded maw of the Red Walk. Blank-faced, I paid another entrance fee, then waded through the familiar red-lit murk. “Back again, eh, Mister?” one of the rousters jawed at me. “So it seems,” I replied, then he: “Back for more lookin’, or is it doin’ you’re after now?” “Doing,” I blurted. “Previous counsel has led me to believe that time with a woman can be arranged at the end of the walk. Might this be true?” “Previous counsel, huh?” the ruffian chuckled. “If you got the copper in yer pocket, yeah. Down there. They got gals who’ll do things ta yer willy you ain’t never thought of.” I passed him then, as though his very existence had expired, cantering my way to the terminus of the carnal labyrinth. The tent-flap leading to what could only be the bordello seemed to glide toward me rather than me toward it, where the largest of the musclemen stood guard, massive arms crossed. One side of the brute’s face was scar-lined; in a pure Irish dialect he asked, “Top a the evenin’ to ya, Sir. What’ll it be?”
“Bliss,” I said.
“Aye, she’d be for all of us if we had our way, but not for you, not tonight.”
In an instant, I grew enraged. “And why not, Sir? This is a business enterprise, is it not? Where the company of a woman may be procured in exchange for funds deemed sufficient?”
“Oh, I know what it ‘tis you’re after, lad. A dick-suckin’ from Bliss is a sweet deal indeed, and she’s sucked mine on many occasion–and likewise sucked on my billfold as well”–he laughed, while I remained deadpan. “Aye, you must’a heard that she’s got not a tooth in her mouth.”
“She was born
Similar Books
