Read Online Technicolor Pulp by Arty Nelson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arty Nelson
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a redhead, has a luscious, bursting pair of raisin-tipped breasts. A little
on the heavy side, but no matter, her person nullified any shortcomings whatsoever. She sat next to me with a warmth that
called my leather onto the back of my chair. If I didn’t need a showpiece arm trophy to feel like a man, I would’ve asked
her to marry me on the spot. My LOVE is mercurial and my LUST paves the way. Linda looks at me and smiles with such honesty
that I’m struck speechless, not knowing which of my personas to assume.
“How ya doin’?” I stutter, in my best city-speak.
“Fine, Jimi,” climbing over my oral shield. “You’re a cute boy, aren’t you.”
That does it! BOY… CUTE BOY! Like a homing pigeon on my Oedipal G-spot! The romancebegins to bloom in my head. Dinner at Her favorite London spot, hand-kissing walks along Henry Moore sculpture-dotted brick
walkways. Inside my head roams a TRUE ROMANTIC. I just coat it with a fallen rock-god shell to fool myself.
Louis stands up at the bar waiting for an ale, occasionally darting Liberace eyes over at my fidgety groin. One glance at
his blood-colored riding suit, complete with leather crop and shaved head, and I feel like a 12-year-old runaway looking for
Huck Finn in Times Square on a Saturday night, his dark chocolate skin only adding to the confusion of my deepest naughty
slave fantasies.
“Well, enough about me and Mum… Whatta ya say we go on outside and smoke this spliff?” Donald whistles, producing a bloated
spliff.
“I wish we had bloody X… That’s what I’d like for work tonight… Wouldn’t you, Helms?” my redhead vixen says.
“I’d love X… I need something to pick me up,” he answers.
“Helms, you didn’t tell me you had to work tonight,” I say.
“I hadn’t thought about it in a coupla hours.”
“Enough bloody talk about it, let’s go and smoke this bloody spliff I got before Linda and Doobe have to go in to work.”
We walk out into the alley behind the bar. Louis follows, sipping a tall ale. “I’m going to get all wet in this rain!” He
shrieks. The sweet smoke umbrellas us from the rain as much as we need itto. It’s still light out, but the day is in its final desperate encore. The city glows around its edge—a sad window into the
past, a childhood I never let myself have, a first love I can’t remember, parents I ran from, a sister who didn’t like me
because I was spoiled, a perspective I won in a lottery. I give it all back. I throw it away with every hit of hash that dances
in my head. I get no family and all the fleeting support I need in return. When the spliff is gone, Doobe and Linda run off
to wait tables and I return inside with Donald and Louis to have another beer. It’s decided that we’ll go and cop X while
Linda and Doobe toss grub to theatergoers at Joe Allen—dramaland eatery that it is. I’ve never heard of the place, but then
again, you don’t catch me sashaying down Broadway very often either.
“I’ll get you a pint, Honey!” giggles Louis when I cry a fake poor. I’m tempted to ask “of what,” but refrain, seeing potential
in the relationship. Donald and I grab a new table while Louis grabs the pints and Donald resumes telling me about his stay
with Mum. The crowd has begun to thin out in the pub.
“We’ll drink these down quick and go over to Robyn’s house. She’s got good bloody X and if you catch her in a decent mood,
she’ll bloody give it to you!” Donald confides. Louis returns with fresh pints from the bar and I turn the head back on autopilot.
PUIP 23
The rain’s gone home for the evening, leaving behind a chill. We walk through the streets. I feel at ease in these anonymous
streets watching and listening to Louis and Donald. The lamplight’s warm. Faces hurry past, flickering out of the shadows
only for an instant.
“Hurry up now, Honey! He walks just like he talks… Slow, heeheehee,” Louis says to Donald, up in
on the heavy side, but no matter, her person nullified any shortcomings whatsoever. She sat next to me with a warmth that
called my leather onto the back of my chair. If I didn’t need a showpiece arm trophy to feel like a man, I would’ve asked
her to marry me on the spot. My LOVE is mercurial and my LUST paves the way. Linda looks at me and smiles with such honesty
that I’m struck speechless, not knowing which of my personas to assume.
“How ya doin’?” I stutter, in my best city-speak.
“Fine, Jimi,” climbing over my oral shield. “You’re a cute boy, aren’t you.”
That does it! BOY… CUTE BOY! Like a homing pigeon on my Oedipal G-spot! The romancebegins to bloom in my head. Dinner at Her favorite London spot, hand-kissing walks along Henry Moore sculpture-dotted brick
walkways. Inside my head roams a TRUE ROMANTIC. I just coat it with a fallen rock-god shell to fool myself.
Louis stands up at the bar waiting for an ale, occasionally darting Liberace eyes over at my fidgety groin. One glance at
his blood-colored riding suit, complete with leather crop and shaved head, and I feel like a 12-year-old runaway looking for
Huck Finn in Times Square on a Saturday night, his dark chocolate skin only adding to the confusion of my deepest naughty
slave fantasies.
“Well, enough about me and Mum… Whatta ya say we go on outside and smoke this spliff?” Donald whistles, producing a bloated
spliff.
“I wish we had bloody X… That’s what I’d like for work tonight… Wouldn’t you, Helms?” my redhead vixen says.
“I’d love X… I need something to pick me up,” he answers.
“Helms, you didn’t tell me you had to work tonight,” I say.
“I hadn’t thought about it in a coupla hours.”
“Enough bloody talk about it, let’s go and smoke this bloody spliff I got before Linda and Doobe have to go in to work.”
We walk out into the alley behind the bar. Louis follows, sipping a tall ale. “I’m going to get all wet in this rain!” He
shrieks. The sweet smoke umbrellas us from the rain as much as we need itto. It’s still light out, but the day is in its final desperate encore. The city glows around its edge—a sad window into the
past, a childhood I never let myself have, a first love I can’t remember, parents I ran from, a sister who didn’t like me
because I was spoiled, a perspective I won in a lottery. I give it all back. I throw it away with every hit of hash that dances
in my head. I get no family and all the fleeting support I need in return. When the spliff is gone, Doobe and Linda run off
to wait tables and I return inside with Donald and Louis to have another beer. It’s decided that we’ll go and cop X while
Linda and Doobe toss grub to theatergoers at Joe Allen—dramaland eatery that it is. I’ve never heard of the place, but then
again, you don’t catch me sashaying down Broadway very often either.
“I’ll get you a pint, Honey!” giggles Louis when I cry a fake poor. I’m tempted to ask “of what,” but refrain, seeing potential
in the relationship. Donald and I grab a new table while Louis grabs the pints and Donald resumes telling me about his stay
with Mum. The crowd has begun to thin out in the pub.
“We’ll drink these down quick and go over to Robyn’s house. She’s got good bloody X and if you catch her in a decent mood,
she’ll bloody give it to you!” Donald confides. Louis returns with fresh pints from the bar and I turn the head back on autopilot.
PUIP 23
The rain’s gone home for the evening, leaving behind a chill. We walk through the streets. I feel at ease in these anonymous
streets watching and listening to Louis and Donald. The lamplight’s warm. Faces hurry past, flickering out of the shadows
only for an instant.
“Hurry up now, Honey! He walks just like he talks… Slow, heeheehee,” Louis says to Donald, up in
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