her
mouth, which is sort of tough because her jaw has gone cold with her teeth
really stuck in the thing. I wrap her body in a sheet and drag it into the
bathroom attached to my bedroom. I dump her in the tub and flick off the light, then I toss the gag into the dishwasher with all the
other gag balls and dishes crusted with blood.
The neighborhood begins a half
mile away from my house, which is practically in the middle of nowhere beside
the park. I swing by a corner store, pick up a pack of cigarettes and stop at
the coffee shop Alison works at which is super convenient because it’s on the
same strip of business as Fantasy Z ,
the porn store I work at. Alison is
wiping down a table when I come in and she tosses the rag onto an empty chair
and gives me a hug.
“Hi hun ,
how are you this lovely morning?”
“Good good. How are you?”
“God, just shoot me. Serious.”
She leans in close, pretending no one can hear. “I’m sick of this place.”
That girl she works with, the one
Alison says has a thing for me, Trisha, she pops up from under the counter,
arms loaded with coffee cups and stacks of java jackets that amazingly don’t
spill all over the place when she tilts this way and that, putting stuff here
and there around the till.
I walk over to her. “Can I get a
coffee?”
She laughs, gives me a wink while
her fingers peck at the buttons on the register. “I don’t know. Can you?”
“I want a medium.”
“Room for cream?”
“No.”
“No cream?”
“Nope.”
“No sugar?”
“ Naw .”
“So, just... black then?”
“Uh huh.”
“Ok.” Her voice turns to nearly
inaudible mumbles as she turns around and fills a mug with coffee. “One black
coffee it is then.”
Alison picks up the rag, moves to
another table, barely wiping it at all. I look out the window at the passing cars, Trisha sets the mug on the counter. “That’s two
dollars and...”
“I need it to go.”
She stops, looks down at the mug
and bumps her palm against her forehead. “Oh my god, that’s right. I’m so
sorry!”
She dumps the cup out in the
sink, grabs a to go one, fills it and is all red faced
when she rings it up. “Sorry. Mondays!”
Today is Wednesday. I smile, wrap
my fingers around the warm cylinder of wax and paper, filled to the brim with
boiling black caffeine. “That’s OK.”
Around noon Alison comes into my
store and asks if I’m seeing anyone right now. I think of the girl in my
bathtub, stiff and wrapped in a sheet. “No, whatever I had, it’s pretty dead.”
She smiles and says, “Trisha was
wondering, but don’t tell her I said that,” and goes back to work.
Absolutely nothing happens for
the next four hours. I’m cleaning a display of Acryl dildos with a feather
duster, thinking about how I’d once read somewhere that the term dildo originally referred to this dick
shaped peg that sailors used to lock the oars on their boats, when I hear the
bell above the door ringing.
I turn, and no kidding, I’m dead
serious, in strolls a little girl with this older guy behind her. The guy’s got
a sun hat on and one of those douche bag beards, the chin strap kind. He’s
clearly over forty, his gut is proof of that, and on
top of everything else, he’s wearing socks with sandals. The little girl
bounces over to the movies.
I know I should do something, but
I can’t. I just can’t stop staring, the feather duster hovering over the tips
of all those dildos, I cannot believe what I am
seeing.
The little girl picks up a movie,
flips it over to look at the back. She tugs on the guy’s shirt. “Get one with
big dicks! Some big black dicks! I want to see some big cocks tonight!”
Harry comes out of his office
holding that clip chart, he sees me with my mouth hung
open and looks over at the two. He stops in mid step, eyes popping out of his head, we both look at each other—the same look of horror on
our faces.
The little girl picks up another
movie. “They do facials in this
mouth, which is sort of tough because her jaw has gone cold with her teeth
really stuck in the thing. I wrap her body in a sheet and drag it into the
bathroom attached to my bedroom. I dump her in the tub and flick off the light, then I toss the gag into the dishwasher with all the
other gag balls and dishes crusted with blood.
The neighborhood begins a half
mile away from my house, which is practically in the middle of nowhere beside
the park. I swing by a corner store, pick up a pack of cigarettes and stop at
the coffee shop Alison works at which is super convenient because it’s on the
same strip of business as Fantasy Z ,
the porn store I work at. Alison is
wiping down a table when I come in and she tosses the rag onto an empty chair
and gives me a hug.
“Hi hun ,
how are you this lovely morning?”
“Good good. How are you?”
“God, just shoot me. Serious.”
She leans in close, pretending no one can hear. “I’m sick of this place.”
That girl she works with, the one
Alison says has a thing for me, Trisha, she pops up from under the counter,
arms loaded with coffee cups and stacks of java jackets that amazingly don’t
spill all over the place when she tilts this way and that, putting stuff here
and there around the till.
I walk over to her. “Can I get a
coffee?”
She laughs, gives me a wink while
her fingers peck at the buttons on the register. “I don’t know. Can you?”
“I want a medium.”
“Room for cream?”
“No.”
“No cream?”
“Nope.”
“No sugar?”
“ Naw .”
“So, just... black then?”
“Uh huh.”
“Ok.” Her voice turns to nearly
inaudible mumbles as she turns around and fills a mug with coffee. “One black
coffee it is then.”
Alison picks up the rag, moves to
another table, barely wiping it at all. I look out the window at the passing cars, Trisha sets the mug on the counter. “That’s two
dollars and...”
“I need it to go.”
She stops, looks down at the mug
and bumps her palm against her forehead. “Oh my god, that’s right. I’m so
sorry!”
She dumps the cup out in the
sink, grabs a to go one, fills it and is all red faced
when she rings it up. “Sorry. Mondays!”
Today is Wednesday. I smile, wrap
my fingers around the warm cylinder of wax and paper, filled to the brim with
boiling black caffeine. “That’s OK.”
Around noon Alison comes into my
store and asks if I’m seeing anyone right now. I think of the girl in my
bathtub, stiff and wrapped in a sheet. “No, whatever I had, it’s pretty dead.”
She smiles and says, “Trisha was
wondering, but don’t tell her I said that,” and goes back to work.
Absolutely nothing happens for
the next four hours. I’m cleaning a display of Acryl dildos with a feather
duster, thinking about how I’d once read somewhere that the term dildo originally referred to this dick
shaped peg that sailors used to lock the oars on their boats, when I hear the
bell above the door ringing.
I turn, and no kidding, I’m dead
serious, in strolls a little girl with this older guy behind her. The guy’s got
a sun hat on and one of those douche bag beards, the chin strap kind. He’s
clearly over forty, his gut is proof of that, and on
top of everything else, he’s wearing socks with sandals. The little girl
bounces over to the movies.
I know I should do something, but
I can’t. I just can’t stop staring, the feather duster hovering over the tips
of all those dildos, I cannot believe what I am
seeing.
The little girl picks up a movie,
flips it over to look at the back. She tugs on the guy’s shirt. “Get one with
big dicks! Some big black dicks! I want to see some big cocks tonight!”
Harry comes out of his office
holding that clip chart, he sees me with my mouth hung
open and looks over at the two. He stops in mid step, eyes popping out of his head, we both look at each other—the same look of horror on
our faces.
The little girl picks up another
movie. “They do facials in this
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