I haven’t had a rosey life. You will never find me thinking things are going to be good, even when they are in the moment. Instilled within me from childhood is a feeling that one day the other shoe is going to drop and no matter how bad things seem they can and will get worse. Even during the happier times in my life, when I was seemingly unencumbered by stress and worry this nagging feeling was always there, waiting to jump out of the darkness of my mind and attack me.
One of my first memories is of my mom and dad fighting, there’s screaming, shoving and then blood and blinding light...from what my mom has told me I was around 4 at the time. I saw my dad get arrested for the first time after seeing him choke a woman until she blacked out and I remember thinking “At least it isn’t Mama”. I had my first panic attack in 2nd grade. I started my period when I was 9 and lost my virginity and got raped the year I turned 12. There is more and the list goes on but I won't, it gets worse from there but a lot of that is my own stupidity.
I don’t expect sympathy for any of those things. I have had enough sympathy and people shedding tears on my behalf to last me the rest of my life. My life has been sad but other people have had it worse. There’s a saying that goes something like “If we threw all our problems in a pile and you could see everyone else’s then you would grab your own back and be thankful”. I’m not entirely sure that is true because I know some people who have led a charmed life but for the most part I don’t want anyone else’s problems, issues or trauma because I know how to deal with mine.
When I hear someone say that the universe balances itself and you have to take the good with the bad I can’t help but feel a little resentful that all of my bad stuff had to come to me at an early age...then I realize I am being optimistic and put a stop to that rather quickly. No matter how bad things are, they can always get worse that nagging voice in the back of my head reminds me and I shut off those thoughts that all my troubles are behind me.
Some people would consider this negative or self defeating but I don’t, I consider it realistic. My son asked me why I was crying at the end of a movie the other day, a kid’s movie with a happy ending. I told him that one day he would understand, when he knew how much bad there is in the world he would get why something happy and sappy would make a grown person cry.
Do good and bad always balance out? Is there always a little pain with the pleasures of life? I don’t really know the answer to that but never in my 26 years have I ever held a rose that didn’t contain at least one thorn.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
DARK PLACES
THE DARK PLACES (BFF 28)
Current mood:twisted
Category: Writing and Poetry
Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction!
The house looked the way it should. Old, dilapidated and worn, the way any house of horrors should look. Of course standing on the overgrown weeds in the light of day it was hard to think of it that way. Even knowing what no one else did, that house should have looked foreboding, but it is always harder to hold onto your nightmares in the sunlight.
I hadn’t been here in 20 years. Since I was 14 years old and I moved away from the house that used to be next door I hadn’t even given it a thought…not in my waking hours at least. I knew that if my subconscious had her say she would tell me to get my stupid ass back in my rental and drive away. She was safely tucked away though and this was something I needed to do.
The past that had haunted me for two decades was never going to release its grip on me until I took a stand and said enough is enough. Since this is the place it all began it seemed fitting that it was where it would end.
The porch had more holes than one would think possible and still I walked across it with ease. The worn through places were the same weak spots I had skipped across as a girl. It is truly amazing what memories the body holds, even after the mind has forced itself to forget.
The front door hung open, not even the vandals bothered to close this place up and there was no sense in trying to keep anyone out the front door when they could just have easily slid through a window. Surprisingly the door did not creak as it swung open.
The musty, unlived in (dead I would call it later but not now, not in the daylight) smell was enough to let me know that it was completely unoccupied other than by Mother Nature who was taking it back piece by rotten piece. The floor was littered with signs of people but the thick layer of dust across the top of the floor was perfectly even, no signs of recent life.
I felt like an archeologist looking back in time, the scattered remains of parties, séances an all sorts of other things I would rather not think about, not just yet. The living room gave way to the kitchen but I would never have known that if this had been my first trip here. The walls had been torn off in search of hillbilly gold, copper which was worth dollars per pound at times, was scavenged by tweakers and other people too uneducated or unwilling to work.
Standing in the kitchen I saw in my mind’s eye the way it had looked before. There had been an old wood picnic table in the middle of the floor “Property of Lincoln County Parks and Rec” still stamped to the side. Many nights I had spent lying on that table, too drunk to stand and too stoned to speak, holding hands with the only person I would ever love.
The blood that I remembered pooling between the floor boards would probably still be there somewhere under the grime but I was no scientist and the knowledge that it had been there, was still there, was enough for me. I moved on, farther into the house to the dark place in my head.
The back bedroom still held a bed frame and pieces of the mattress but time and rodents had carried most of it away. If I had looked closely I would have seen twine still wrapped around the iron head board. I didn’t need to look closely though to see the scratches and rust colored hand prints on the few pieces of wall left standing.
My mind tried to pull me back in time, to the place I had locked away but I resisted. I needed to see this place but I didn’t want to truly feel it; it was too raw and too real for me still. Time does not heal all wounds no matter how many times people say it.
I tried to remember the good nights, just me and Scott there on the bed. The innocence given there should have been a good memory but the bad ones kept clouding my vision. Instead of seeing Scott above me, kissing me and telling me it would be okay I see the nameless, faceless boys from the last night. I feel the ropes burn my wrists and instant soberness take over as I realize what is happening to me.
The darkness comes over me quickly and I try to fight but I’m helpless just like before, helpless like I have always felt. I feel every thrust again in my head, every violation of my body that drives my mind just a little closer to the edge of the insanity that waits. My soul rips in half at the same time my body is left to bleed.
The ropes come off in a few minutes, they were never meant to hold me for long, just long enough for the demon boys to gain control. In my head I realize that someone is screaming and it’s not me. I find Scott tied to the kitchen table where I had left him earlier. They had cut him badly, filleting his hands so that any attempt to free himself would be agony.
I walked out of that house and swore I would never return. Putting those memories in a giant box inside my head with a lock made of pure determination seemed like the safest thing to do. When I was accepted at a private school on scholarship my parents moved to be closer to me and I never looked back until today.
Walking back towards the living room I take a letter and a newspaper clipping from my purse. I had done what I said and never came back but when I got the call that Scott was dead, one bullet to the head, I knew I had to come. The lawyers had given me a letter with Cindy written across the top. I had read it a hundred times in the last 24 hours, my tears soaking through the ink.
There were only a few words but that was all Scott and I had ever needed anyway.
Cindy,
I’m sorry. I read your last book and I knew what you meant when she went to the dark place. I go to that place too. But you have it wrong, when he screams it’s not out of rage or helpless anger…he screams because she won’t. I screamed because you never would. You never did let the bastards see you break. I’m not that strong.
Forever and always yours,
Scott.
It was dated three days ago. Scott’s last day. I can’t imagine what he must have felt living in this town, seeing this old monstrosity every time he visited his parents. He thought I was strong, but he was wrong. Cowards run away, not to fight another day but to go somewhere they can forget there was ever anything to run from.
The lighter fluid I bought at a gas station on the way here is in my hand and before I can truly think through what I am doing I squirt it into an old pile of wood and trash. The lighter seems to spark itself, lighting the letter and the obituary from the local paper before I can rationalize what could happen.
I walk into the winter sunlight, bright but cold as smoke rises behind me. A worry that the fire will spread momentarily makes me pause but I don’t stop. I keep moving until the house, now blazing brightly, is just a smudge in my rearview and I am on my way out of town.
It is done now I hope. The dark place in my head seems to have retreated farther than ever before. Only shadows remain and after all this time I can deal with a few shadows.
Current mood:twisted
Category: Writing and Poetry
Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction! Fiction!
The house looked the way it should. Old, dilapidated and worn, the way any house of horrors should look. Of course standing on the overgrown weeds in the light of day it was hard to think of it that way. Even knowing what no one else did, that house should have looked foreboding, but it is always harder to hold onto your nightmares in the sunlight.
I hadn’t been here in 20 years. Since I was 14 years old and I moved away from the house that used to be next door I hadn’t even given it a thought…not in my waking hours at least. I knew that if my subconscious had her say she would tell me to get my stupid ass back in my rental and drive away. She was safely tucked away though and this was something I needed to do.
The past that had haunted me for two decades was never going to release its grip on me until I took a stand and said enough is enough. Since this is the place it all began it seemed fitting that it was where it would end.
The porch had more holes than one would think possible and still I walked across it with ease. The worn through places were the same weak spots I had skipped across as a girl. It is truly amazing what memories the body holds, even after the mind has forced itself to forget.
The front door hung open, not even the vandals bothered to close this place up and there was no sense in trying to keep anyone out the front door when they could just have easily slid through a window. Surprisingly the door did not creak as it swung open.
The musty, unlived in (dead I would call it later but not now, not in the daylight) smell was enough to let me know that it was completely unoccupied other than by Mother Nature who was taking it back piece by rotten piece. The floor was littered with signs of people but the thick layer of dust across the top of the floor was perfectly even, no signs of recent life.
I felt like an archeologist looking back in time, the scattered remains of parties, séances an all sorts of other things I would rather not think about, not just yet. The living room gave way to the kitchen but I would never have known that if this had been my first trip here. The walls had been torn off in search of hillbilly gold, copper which was worth dollars per pound at times, was scavenged by tweakers and other people too uneducated or unwilling to work.
Standing in the kitchen I saw in my mind’s eye the way it had looked before. There had been an old wood picnic table in the middle of the floor “Property of Lincoln County Parks and Rec” still stamped to the side. Many nights I had spent lying on that table, too drunk to stand and too stoned to speak, holding hands with the only person I would ever love.
The blood that I remembered pooling between the floor boards would probably still be there somewhere under the grime but I was no scientist and the knowledge that it had been there, was still there, was enough for me. I moved on, farther into the house to the dark place in my head.
The back bedroom still held a bed frame and pieces of the mattress but time and rodents had carried most of it away. If I had looked closely I would have seen twine still wrapped around the iron head board. I didn’t need to look closely though to see the scratches and rust colored hand prints on the few pieces of wall left standing.
My mind tried to pull me back in time, to the place I had locked away but I resisted. I needed to see this place but I didn’t want to truly feel it; it was too raw and too real for me still. Time does not heal all wounds no matter how many times people say it.
I tried to remember the good nights, just me and Scott there on the bed. The innocence given there should have been a good memory but the bad ones kept clouding my vision. Instead of seeing Scott above me, kissing me and telling me it would be okay I see the nameless, faceless boys from the last night. I feel the ropes burn my wrists and instant soberness take over as I realize what is happening to me.
The darkness comes over me quickly and I try to fight but I’m helpless just like before, helpless like I have always felt. I feel every thrust again in my head, every violation of my body that drives my mind just a little closer to the edge of the insanity that waits. My soul rips in half at the same time my body is left to bleed.
The ropes come off in a few minutes, they were never meant to hold me for long, just long enough for the demon boys to gain control. In my head I realize that someone is screaming and it’s not me. I find Scott tied to the kitchen table where I had left him earlier. They had cut him badly, filleting his hands so that any attempt to free himself would be agony.
I walked out of that house and swore I would never return. Putting those memories in a giant box inside my head with a lock made of pure determination seemed like the safest thing to do. When I was accepted at a private school on scholarship my parents moved to be closer to me and I never looked back until today.
Walking back towards the living room I take a letter and a newspaper clipping from my purse. I had done what I said and never came back but when I got the call that Scott was dead, one bullet to the head, I knew I had to come. The lawyers had given me a letter with Cindy written across the top. I had read it a hundred times in the last 24 hours, my tears soaking through the ink.
There were only a few words but that was all Scott and I had ever needed anyway.
Cindy,
I’m sorry. I read your last book and I knew what you meant when she went to the dark place. I go to that place too. But you have it wrong, when he screams it’s not out of rage or helpless anger…he screams because she won’t. I screamed because you never would. You never did let the bastards see you break. I’m not that strong.
Forever and always yours,
Scott.
It was dated three days ago. Scott’s last day. I can’t imagine what he must have felt living in this town, seeing this old monstrosity every time he visited his parents. He thought I was strong, but he was wrong. Cowards run away, not to fight another day but to go somewhere they can forget there was ever anything to run from.
The lighter fluid I bought at a gas station on the way here is in my hand and before I can truly think through what I am doing I squirt it into an old pile of wood and trash. The lighter seems to spark itself, lighting the letter and the obituary from the local paper before I can rationalize what could happen.
I walk into the winter sunlight, bright but cold as smoke rises behind me. A worry that the fire will spread momentarily makes me pause but I don’t stop. I keep moving until the house, now blazing brightly, is just a smudge in my rearview and I am on my way out of town.
It is done now I hope. The dark place in my head seems to have retreated farther than ever before. Only shadows remain and after all this time I can deal with a few shadows.
IN LOVE WITH A STRIPPER PART 1
I met Adam on Valentine’s Day, the most romantic day of the year in the most romantic place on Earth, the Shady Ladies. Shady Ladies wasn’t a bad place, it was actually pretty fun or at least I hoped so. Being a Shady Lady myself it was my job to is make it so fun that the men who come there never want to leave. We didn’t sell romance by any means though...what we sold was more leather than lace.
Valentine’s Night was a busy night. We had frat boys, interns and divorcees galore. They were dropping 50s and 100s that they could have spent on any girl like it was nothing to them, all in some desperate attempt to make themselves believe that being without one single person of the opposite sex who will agree to go out with you on the most important “date” night of the year is not truly sad and pathetic. I was having a blast. Raven and Diamond and I were working a group of suits who were too drunk to say no when I climbed on Adam’s lap.
He wasn’t like the other guys, pawing and squeezing until you wanted to spit in their face and stomp their balls. Adam was respectful and looked us in the eye, something that a lot of the men there couldn’t do. Whether it was lack of respect or just mindless lust was a question none of us ever really answered but depending on how long you had been there you had your theories. I had been there long enough to realize I didn’t care, why would I want respect from someone I could never give it to?
Adam looked at me, looked into me when as I danced for him. He enjoyed the dance, which I could feel for myself but he studied me in a way most men are incapable of when they have a lithe and classically trained young woman bouncing on their lap. Towards the end of his song his breath quickened but his eyes never wavered. He was a gorgeous guy but honestly I was glad my set was coming up and I needed to change. I gave him a peck on the cheek and shook my ass when I got up.
As soon as I was backstage I sent Amber in to help Raven and Diamond and I dressed in my outfit. I had on a rip away bustier that pushed my breasts almost to my chin, thigh high stocking and shy high heels with a whip to play with onstage. My hair fell almost to my bare ass, a shimmering wave of garnet that shined on top of all the leather.
The first strains of my song came on and I took the stage not even knowing who my victim would be until I was onstage. There was the lucky guy, either a birthday boy, the groom at a bachelor’s party or some other poor shmuck whose friends had paid for him to get to be part of my routine. I didn’t always use audience members, many of the girls would volunteer to be my slave, some because they wanted the attention more though because they enjoyed playing with me.
When I saw Adam my step faltered but I kept going. The only way I can do my job is to not think about it too much when it is happening. He had disturbed me with his stare earlier but the show must go on. I warmed up the crowd using Adam as my pole. I wrapped myself around him and rid him like he was my favorite roller coaster, the whip hanging harmless off of my wrist. As I rubbed myself on his thigh he regained some of his earlier firmness and I knew it was time for me to get to work. I worked my stockings off while still lying on Adam’s lap.
I smacked my pussy with my whip hard enough to make Adam’s eye get big and his dick grow harder. Sitting up I took off the bustier and rubbed my nipples on Adams open mouth. I could feel his breath tickling me, making the ice I had used earlier unnecessary. He was really starting to enjoy himself when the first song ended. I dismounted and went behind Adam feeling his eyes follow me.
I take Adams hand and turn him to pole behind him. The bouncer quickly takes away the chair he was sitting in. Pushing his back and making him hug the pole I tie his hands in front of him. I dance around him but as soon as he tried to move from where I put him I give him a little swat with the whip. His look of shock is hot, park shock, part anger. I can tell he didn’t expect to become the entertainment. I hope he doesn’t cry, I hate when they do that...it takes away all of the fun.
When he moves again I spank him a little harder. This time the front row of people eagerly watching me can hear the hiss of the whip and there is a collective “ooo” sound among even the biggest of men. The only thing protecting his ass is air and khaki and before they know it I whip it out again, this time for looking back into the crowd. Adam looks somewhere between intrigued and pissed.
I got close enough to whisper in his ear, “Had enough or you want to play some more?” He whispered back, “Yes I want to play but on my terms, meet me later.” I shake my head at him and gave him a few more light smacks for the crowd. He wasn’t drunk or into it enough for me to do my usual routine of pulling down his pants and spanking him with my hand and then making him felate my boot. . Besides I have learned from experience there are some men who just can’t submit.
After untying him and leading him offstage I went back to put some bottoms. You can’t actually walk through the club with your twat hanging out, some kind of health regulation. When I came back onto the floor another girl was with Adam and I went on with my night, playing with one of my regulars for the last few hours. I was one of the only girls to have my own personal back room but most of my customers were willing to pay the price.
By the time I had gotten showered and dressed for home Tony the bartender had a cab waiting for me. Normally I drove myself but not after working for 12 hours straight. Adam was waiting outside for me, shivering in the February weather. I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me in my faded jeans and leather coat and hair wrapped in a scarf. With no makeup or hair extensions a lot of men who had spent hundreds to spend time with me didn’t notice me on the street.
I told Tony to go on after I got my bags in the cab. The guy who came and picked me up was a friend and carried a .45 in the seat beside him. I figured I would be okay.
“I didn’t get your name,” Adam said looking at me with intense gaze that had disturbed me earlier. Without me being naked and on his lap it was even stranger to have a man look at me like that.
“It’s up in lights,” I said pointing to the big billboard with my picture on it. “Destiny fulfills every desire” was that latest gimmick but most people just knew me as The Mistress.
“No not that one, your real one.” He came just close enough that I wanted to take a step back but I know better than to show weakness, even to someone like him.
“That’s none of your business and I am tired. Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said as I slid my tired legs into the car. Al looked in his rearview mirror to see if I needed help and I just shook my head.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything,” he said sincerely and I could tell he really meant it. My heart softened a little as I rolled down the window.
“You really want to know my name?” I asked, not for the first time in my career, what came next though did shock me a little bit.
“I’ll tell you my name if you buy me a cup of coffee and a donut...I could really use a donut.”
“Sure, I can do that,” he says reaching for door handle.
We ride in virtual silence, me with my head resting on the back of the seat, him sitting beside me wondering what he got himself into. I was just tired and wanted a few minutes of silence after the hours of listening to bass thumping, booty shaking music. There were only a few girls who would dance to anything other than hard core rap and after a while it became monotonous and just white noise.
We got to my coffee shop and I ordered and then sat down where Al who was sitting in the car could see me. He waved from behind his magazine letting me know he was keeping an eye on me.
When Adam sat down with my coffee and doughnut I looked at him for a few minutes without saying a word, seeing if he would take the lead and ask for what he wanted. I figured if he went back to being pushy about the name thing I could just take my coffee and leave him there. He seemed content just to sit there and sip his coffee and look back at me which was unusual.
“My name is Gabrielle. My friends call me Gabby.” I told him trying to see if he would be disappointed once I took away the last hint of my stripper persona. Some guys look crestfallen when I tell them my name is something simple.
“Hi, Gabby. I’m Adam but I think one of the guy’s already told you that,” a little boy grin breaking out over his face.
We talked for almost an hour and Al even took him home, first of course I still didn’t know him well enough to let him know where I lived. I was surprised to see he lived in a really nice neighborhood, the kind where it matters if the silverware matches when company comes.
He called me the next afternoon sounding chipper and happy while I was feeling sore and tired. For some reason I decided to go to the park to meet him anyway, We laughed and walked the dogs and he never brought up anything about my job, it was wonderful really. For the next week we met at the park everyday, me with my Great Dane named Tulip and him with his Corgi named Diesel. We had the most mismatched dogs there but we were having the most fun. He was so easy to talk to that when he asked me out on a real date I didn’t hesitate to say no. When we made love the first time on my birthday 10 days after we first met I knew I loved him and he said he loved me.
By July we were vacationing together in Hawaii and I was happier than I had been in ages. I took an entire month off of work to fly with him to Paris when he had to be there for work. It was truly one of the best years of my life. He never asked about my work but he didn’t complain either so I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. He was the first boyfriend I had ever had who didn’t beg me to quit or treat me like his own personal whore so I didn’t want to rock the boat by asking him if it bothered him. Some part of me knew though since I went to extra effort to hide my costumes and make up when he came over. I was never as neat as when I knew he would be spending a day or two at my place.
The sex was great but tamer than what I normally liked. Any time I tried to get a little kinky he would let me know in subtle ways that he preferred to be make love not fuck and I let him get away with it. Love this fresh and new was not to be disturbed, we could work on some things later if that is what it came to. For once I felt safe and I wasn’t going to let anything, especially something as meaningless as sex destroy it. I lied to myself all the time....what was one more lie?
Valentine’s Night was a busy night. We had frat boys, interns and divorcees galore. They were dropping 50s and 100s that they could have spent on any girl like it was nothing to them, all in some desperate attempt to make themselves believe that being without one single person of the opposite sex who will agree to go out with you on the most important “date” night of the year is not truly sad and pathetic. I was having a blast. Raven and Diamond and I were working a group of suits who were too drunk to say no when I climbed on Adam’s lap.
He wasn’t like the other guys, pawing and squeezing until you wanted to spit in their face and stomp their balls. Adam was respectful and looked us in the eye, something that a lot of the men there couldn’t do. Whether it was lack of respect or just mindless lust was a question none of us ever really answered but depending on how long you had been there you had your theories. I had been there long enough to realize I didn’t care, why would I want respect from someone I could never give it to?
Adam looked at me, looked into me when as I danced for him. He enjoyed the dance, which I could feel for myself but he studied me in a way most men are incapable of when they have a lithe and classically trained young woman bouncing on their lap. Towards the end of his song his breath quickened but his eyes never wavered. He was a gorgeous guy but honestly I was glad my set was coming up and I needed to change. I gave him a peck on the cheek and shook my ass when I got up.
As soon as I was backstage I sent Amber in to help Raven and Diamond and I dressed in my outfit. I had on a rip away bustier that pushed my breasts almost to my chin, thigh high stocking and shy high heels with a whip to play with onstage. My hair fell almost to my bare ass, a shimmering wave of garnet that shined on top of all the leather.
The first strains of my song came on and I took the stage not even knowing who my victim would be until I was onstage. There was the lucky guy, either a birthday boy, the groom at a bachelor’s party or some other poor shmuck whose friends had paid for him to get to be part of my routine. I didn’t always use audience members, many of the girls would volunteer to be my slave, some because they wanted the attention more though because they enjoyed playing with me.
When I saw Adam my step faltered but I kept going. The only way I can do my job is to not think about it too much when it is happening. He had disturbed me with his stare earlier but the show must go on. I warmed up the crowd using Adam as my pole. I wrapped myself around him and rid him like he was my favorite roller coaster, the whip hanging harmless off of my wrist. As I rubbed myself on his thigh he regained some of his earlier firmness and I knew it was time for me to get to work. I worked my stockings off while still lying on Adam’s lap.
I smacked my pussy with my whip hard enough to make Adam’s eye get big and his dick grow harder. Sitting up I took off the bustier and rubbed my nipples on Adams open mouth. I could feel his breath tickling me, making the ice I had used earlier unnecessary. He was really starting to enjoy himself when the first song ended. I dismounted and went behind Adam feeling his eyes follow me.
I take Adams hand and turn him to pole behind him. The bouncer quickly takes away the chair he was sitting in. Pushing his back and making him hug the pole I tie his hands in front of him. I dance around him but as soon as he tried to move from where I put him I give him a little swat with the whip. His look of shock is hot, park shock, part anger. I can tell he didn’t expect to become the entertainment. I hope he doesn’t cry, I hate when they do that...it takes away all of the fun.
When he moves again I spank him a little harder. This time the front row of people eagerly watching me can hear the hiss of the whip and there is a collective “ooo” sound among even the biggest of men. The only thing protecting his ass is air and khaki and before they know it I whip it out again, this time for looking back into the crowd. Adam looks somewhere between intrigued and pissed.
I got close enough to whisper in his ear, “Had enough or you want to play some more?” He whispered back, “Yes I want to play but on my terms, meet me later.” I shake my head at him and gave him a few more light smacks for the crowd. He wasn’t drunk or into it enough for me to do my usual routine of pulling down his pants and spanking him with my hand and then making him felate my boot. . Besides I have learned from experience there are some men who just can’t submit.
After untying him and leading him offstage I went back to put some bottoms. You can’t actually walk through the club with your twat hanging out, some kind of health regulation. When I came back onto the floor another girl was with Adam and I went on with my night, playing with one of my regulars for the last few hours. I was one of the only girls to have my own personal back room but most of my customers were willing to pay the price.
By the time I had gotten showered and dressed for home Tony the bartender had a cab waiting for me. Normally I drove myself but not after working for 12 hours straight. Adam was waiting outside for me, shivering in the February weather. I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me in my faded jeans and leather coat and hair wrapped in a scarf. With no makeup or hair extensions a lot of men who had spent hundreds to spend time with me didn’t notice me on the street.
I told Tony to go on after I got my bags in the cab. The guy who came and picked me up was a friend and carried a .45 in the seat beside him. I figured I would be okay.
“I didn’t get your name,” Adam said looking at me with intense gaze that had disturbed me earlier. Without me being naked and on his lap it was even stranger to have a man look at me like that.
“It’s up in lights,” I said pointing to the big billboard with my picture on it. “Destiny fulfills every desire” was that latest gimmick but most people just knew me as The Mistress.
“No not that one, your real one.” He came just close enough that I wanted to take a step back but I know better than to show weakness, even to someone like him.
“That’s none of your business and I am tired. Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said as I slid my tired legs into the car. Al looked in his rearview mirror to see if I needed help and I just shook my head.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything,” he said sincerely and I could tell he really meant it. My heart softened a little as I rolled down the window.
“You really want to know my name?” I asked, not for the first time in my career, what came next though did shock me a little bit.
“I’ll tell you my name if you buy me a cup of coffee and a donut...I could really use a donut.”
“Sure, I can do that,” he says reaching for door handle.
We ride in virtual silence, me with my head resting on the back of the seat, him sitting beside me wondering what he got himself into. I was just tired and wanted a few minutes of silence after the hours of listening to bass thumping, booty shaking music. There were only a few girls who would dance to anything other than hard core rap and after a while it became monotonous and just white noise.
We got to my coffee shop and I ordered and then sat down where Al who was sitting in the car could see me. He waved from behind his magazine letting me know he was keeping an eye on me.
When Adam sat down with my coffee and doughnut I looked at him for a few minutes without saying a word, seeing if he would take the lead and ask for what he wanted. I figured if he went back to being pushy about the name thing I could just take my coffee and leave him there. He seemed content just to sit there and sip his coffee and look back at me which was unusual.
“My name is Gabrielle. My friends call me Gabby.” I told him trying to see if he would be disappointed once I took away the last hint of my stripper persona. Some guys look crestfallen when I tell them my name is something simple.
“Hi, Gabby. I’m Adam but I think one of the guy’s already told you that,” a little boy grin breaking out over his face.
We talked for almost an hour and Al even took him home, first of course I still didn’t know him well enough to let him know where I lived. I was surprised to see he lived in a really nice neighborhood, the kind where it matters if the silverware matches when company comes.
He called me the next afternoon sounding chipper and happy while I was feeling sore and tired. For some reason I decided to go to the park to meet him anyway, We laughed and walked the dogs and he never brought up anything about my job, it was wonderful really. For the next week we met at the park everyday, me with my Great Dane named Tulip and him with his Corgi named Diesel. We had the most mismatched dogs there but we were having the most fun. He was so easy to talk to that when he asked me out on a real date I didn’t hesitate to say no. When we made love the first time on my birthday 10 days after we first met I knew I loved him and he said he loved me.
By July we were vacationing together in Hawaii and I was happier than I had been in ages. I took an entire month off of work to fly with him to Paris when he had to be there for work. It was truly one of the best years of my life. He never asked about my work but he didn’t complain either so I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. He was the first boyfriend I had ever had who didn’t beg me to quit or treat me like his own personal whore so I didn’t want to rock the boat by asking him if it bothered him. Some part of me knew though since I went to extra effort to hide my costumes and make up when he came over. I was never as neat as when I knew he would be spending a day or two at my place.
The sex was great but tamer than what I normally liked. Any time I tried to get a little kinky he would let me know in subtle ways that he preferred to be make love not fuck and I let him get away with it. Love this fresh and new was not to be disturbed, we could work on some things later if that is what it came to. For once I felt safe and I wasn’t going to let anything, especially something as meaningless as sex destroy it. I lied to myself all the time....what was one more lie?
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
I don’t watch the news anymore. It’s sad and depressing all the time. Even my local news rarely has anything good to say. Even here we have murders, rapes, death and destruction all the time. The local news seems to downplay anything good, saving all the human interest stories until after the weather when everyone has pretty much tuned out anyway. It really makes me wonder if the world is truly going to end soon.
Unlike a lot of people I don’t think the world is going to end because of some preordained set of circumstances. I don’t think that the Lord is going to call people home and the Antichrist will reign for years before the end. I think we will create and execute our own destruction. Our selfishness and utter disregard for our fellow man will be the end of us.
When you have children raping and murdering other kids and a parent killing their own flesh and blood for no reason at all something has to change or we might as well just kill ourselves off. Why do any of us deserve the opportunities we have been given when all anyone worries about is themselves and the latest and greatest new toy they can buy? We are supposedly in a recession of epic proportion but Harry Potter can make million in one hour. While there are children dying due to lack of food and shelter people are spending hundreds of dollars on cell phones that will be obsolete in a year.
Is this for sure signs of the end of the world? I truly hope not. I pray to a higher power, any higher power if such a being exists, that we all wake up and stop thinking of only ourselves. I wish for a better world, a world where a soldier dying in a senseless war matters more than a drug addicted pop star who has been accused of atrocities that would put the rest of us in prison. I dream of a world where no child goes to bed hungry and where the people in power actually care for the people they have sworn to serve. I might as well be throwing pennies in a wishing well for all my hoping and wishing though because no one really cares about others and the people who do care, who are aware of the world around them are the people without the power to actually bring about change.
Our narcissism has spawned the children of today. Kids who can’t tell you who the vice president of our own country is, much less anything about the world outside their bubble of self centeredness can tweet about how horrid their lives are and truly believe what they are saying because they have been raised to think that they are truly the center of the universe and have no idea what true suffering is. People get so wrapped up in themselves that they forget that it is their duty, their responsibility, to contribute something to society. They forget to teach their children manners and respect because they are too busy working 80 hours a week so that their child won’t feel bad about not having a $500 game system.
When I look at the world around me it makes me sad and angry to see that people truly can’t see what they are doing wrong. They can’t see that their petty problems could be solved by taking responsibility for their own actions and accepting blame which would free them and give them the opportunity to do something with their lives. They worry about what the people down the street think of them if their lawn isn’t perfect. They never realize that the people down the street only attempt perfection to impress the people around them. Everyone gets caught in a cycle and no one notices that the one family on the block who isn’t outwardly perfect and upwardly mobile needs help. No one thinks to offer their time or money to those people, all that occurs to them is that those people are decreasing their property value with their tall grass and broke down cars. When the sheriff comes to evict them they are thankful to have those bad seeds out of their neighborhood. When they see the children on the news in a few years for robbery or worse they are grateful that their children didn’t have to know them. They feel like they dodged a bullet and the truth is that they could have stopped the bullet altogether.
People take the time to march against homosexual marriage and protest at abortion clinics without ever taking the time to talk to the people they are so hell bent on keeping down. They don’t see people, they see causes and if they took the opportunity to see the people their thinking would change altogether.
There is so much hate in the world today that you can feel it if you stand in a crowded room and just listen. There is a palatable tension in the air surrounding us and no one stops in their self centered quest for happiness to notice it. If we all took a collective breath and chose to see the people around us we would all be better for it. Stop looking for causes and things to be against and start making changes in our own lives and in our own self and find things to stand for. Stand for the children, the downtrodden and the lost ones, people who never had a chance could be something great if only someone would give them the time, give them a chance.
We won’t do anything of those things though. People as a rule are so selfish that it becomes a handicap. They see a 16 year old thug and write him off, never trying to understand how he got to where he is. Instead they say he will amount to nothing and because of that attitude he won’t. He’ll be just another lost soul, another headline story on the news because no one cared enough to show him that he could be better than his circumstances.
When you read or watch the news today don’t look at the criminals and the sad stories and be thankful it isn’t you. Look at yourself and wonder what you can do to change things, what you can do to make the world around you better. Take the time to reach out to the people are down and teach your children with actions, not words. We can make a difference if we only try.
Unlike a lot of people I don’t think the world is going to end because of some preordained set of circumstances. I don’t think that the Lord is going to call people home and the Antichrist will reign for years before the end. I think we will create and execute our own destruction. Our selfishness and utter disregard for our fellow man will be the end of us.
When you have children raping and murdering other kids and a parent killing their own flesh and blood for no reason at all something has to change or we might as well just kill ourselves off. Why do any of us deserve the opportunities we have been given when all anyone worries about is themselves and the latest and greatest new toy they can buy? We are supposedly in a recession of epic proportion but Harry Potter can make million in one hour. While there are children dying due to lack of food and shelter people are spending hundreds of dollars on cell phones that will be obsolete in a year.
Is this for sure signs of the end of the world? I truly hope not. I pray to a higher power, any higher power if such a being exists, that we all wake up and stop thinking of only ourselves. I wish for a better world, a world where a soldier dying in a senseless war matters more than a drug addicted pop star who has been accused of atrocities that would put the rest of us in prison. I dream of a world where no child goes to bed hungry and where the people in power actually care for the people they have sworn to serve. I might as well be throwing pennies in a wishing well for all my hoping and wishing though because no one really cares about others and the people who do care, who are aware of the world around them are the people without the power to actually bring about change.
Our narcissism has spawned the children of today. Kids who can’t tell you who the vice president of our own country is, much less anything about the world outside their bubble of self centeredness can tweet about how horrid their lives are and truly believe what they are saying because they have been raised to think that they are truly the center of the universe and have no idea what true suffering is. People get so wrapped up in themselves that they forget that it is their duty, their responsibility, to contribute something to society. They forget to teach their children manners and respect because they are too busy working 80 hours a week so that their child won’t feel bad about not having a $500 game system.
When I look at the world around me it makes me sad and angry to see that people truly can’t see what they are doing wrong. They can’t see that their petty problems could be solved by taking responsibility for their own actions and accepting blame which would free them and give them the opportunity to do something with their lives. They worry about what the people down the street think of them if their lawn isn’t perfect. They never realize that the people down the street only attempt perfection to impress the people around them. Everyone gets caught in a cycle and no one notices that the one family on the block who isn’t outwardly perfect and upwardly mobile needs help. No one thinks to offer their time or money to those people, all that occurs to them is that those people are decreasing their property value with their tall grass and broke down cars. When the sheriff comes to evict them they are thankful to have those bad seeds out of their neighborhood. When they see the children on the news in a few years for robbery or worse they are grateful that their children didn’t have to know them. They feel like they dodged a bullet and the truth is that they could have stopped the bullet altogether.
People take the time to march against homosexual marriage and protest at abortion clinics without ever taking the time to talk to the people they are so hell bent on keeping down. They don’t see people, they see causes and if they took the opportunity to see the people their thinking would change altogether.
There is so much hate in the world today that you can feel it if you stand in a crowded room and just listen. There is a palatable tension in the air surrounding us and no one stops in their self centered quest for happiness to notice it. If we all took a collective breath and chose to see the people around us we would all be better for it. Stop looking for causes and things to be against and start making changes in our own lives and in our own self and find things to stand for. Stand for the children, the downtrodden and the lost ones, people who never had a chance could be something great if only someone would give them the time, give them a chance.
We won’t do anything of those things though. People as a rule are so selfish that it becomes a handicap. They see a 16 year old thug and write him off, never trying to understand how he got to where he is. Instead they say he will amount to nothing and because of that attitude he won’t. He’ll be just another lost soul, another headline story on the news because no one cared enough to show him that he could be better than his circumstances.
When you read or watch the news today don’t look at the criminals and the sad stories and be thankful it isn’t you. Look at yourself and wonder what you can do to change things, what you can do to make the world around you better. Take the time to reach out to the people are down and teach your children with actions, not words. We can make a difference if we only try.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
SOMETIMES IT TAKES A DREAM TO WAKE YOU UP
As I stepped out of the shower I caught a glimpse of myself. Water glistened off of reddened ivory skin; my long hair was damp and clung to my back. The scars on my chest were swollen and pink from the heat of the shower. I closed my eyes and quickly wrapped a towel around myself before I found myself standing there picking myself apart and thinking of a thousand reasons not to go tonight.
I had looked forward to tonight for weeks. Since my divorce party a month ago to be precise, that night had been amazing and the best part of all was when Mark asked if he could see me again. I had lusted after him for two years but said no because of my marriage. I continued to give it one more chance, another try every time I was at my breaking point and the thoughts of Mark, my best friend’s brother got pushed aside in the chaos that was the death throes of my marriage.
Since then Mark and I had dated, just like when I had in high school. Dating as an adult was different though, I wasn’t a shy, young girl anymore. I was a woman with a woman’s desires and needs. I would have let Mark have me on the first date, after a good night kiss that left me breathless but I couldn’t. The thought of him seeing me, naked and bare, scared me to the point of frigidity.
Tonight was the night though; I had promised myself that I wouldn’t back out this time. In fact we were having dinner at my place so that I wouldn’t have the drive home to talk myself out of it.
Checking the clock I hurried and dried my hair, straightening into a ruby wave that flowed down past my shoulders. Slipping the short black dress over my perfumed skin I almost changed my mind about wearing no underwear. Instead I put on sky high stilettos and walked out of the room. I had a plan and I was going to follow through even if it killed me.
Mark was at the door precisely at 9 and I had a bottle of wine chilled and ready to pour. Two glasses later we were cuddling on the couch, his hand sliding down my silky calf and back up again, higher each time until his fingertips brushed the hem of my dress. His touch mesmerized me, enthralled me so much that when he stopped mid thigh I groaned.
His grass green eyes met mine and searched for the answer to his unspoken question. I could tell he didn’t want to be rejected, not again. When I tried to say yes my mouth was dry so I spread my legs a little, that fraction of an inch answering for me.
Mark pulled me to him, forcing me to straddle him as his mouth crushed mine. Weeks of frustration and longing made his kiss punishing and I met his assault with my own. He held me close to him as he explored my body with his hands.
Moaning, I rocked my hips against his hard cock. My cunt was swollen and craving, needing something only he could give. Mark pulled back from me and told me to stand in front of him as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Pushing my dress up he trailed kisses up to my wet slit and slowly parted me with his tongue. I cried out in ecstasy as he sucked hard on my clit, an orgasm hitting me almost instantly.
“Cassandra, I must have you,” Mark said as I he took his mouth from my quivering pussy. “Strip now and let me take you.”
“Mark, wait,” I said, trying to catch my breath. I hadn’t meant for this to go so quickly, I had meant to tell him earlier. “I have to tell you something. Something about my body….”
“Oh, Cass, I love you for you and your body is wonderful. Please let me see more of it, I need to be inside of you.” Mark was pushing at my dress as he stood. His words comforted me and suddenly a botched boob job didn’t seem so bad. I let him take the dress the rest of the way up.
Retching sounds filled the room and I could hear Mark running through the house. He had stopped with my dress around my head and I had to struggle to get back into it to see where he had gone.
The front door was open and Mark was almost to his car. I called him name and he turned just before jumping in, a look of horror on his face.
”Mark….Mark come back….I can get it fixed. Mark….Mark…..”
Mark faded away as a familiar voice intruded from nowhere.
“Cass, wake up. It’s time to go,” Sarah stood there with her gym bag in hand and her purse in the other. “Dr. Goldstein isn’t going to wait forever. We have to be prepped by 8 a.m.”
Oh yeah, today was my breast augmentation. This time next month I would no longer be a boring B but a full blown double D. The dream though, the look of terror on the mythical man of my dreams face.
“You know what Sarah; I think I changed my mind. I think for now I’m just going to stay a boring B. I’ll still go with you if you want me to though.”
Two months later I couldn’t help but notice how much attention Sarah’s chest was getting as I sat alone at the bar. A guy sat down beside me and I looked up. He had the most amazing eyes, like the green grass of Ireland.
“Hi, my name is Mark….”
I had looked forward to tonight for weeks. Since my divorce party a month ago to be precise, that night had been amazing and the best part of all was when Mark asked if he could see me again. I had lusted after him for two years but said no because of my marriage. I continued to give it one more chance, another try every time I was at my breaking point and the thoughts of Mark, my best friend’s brother got pushed aside in the chaos that was the death throes of my marriage.
Since then Mark and I had dated, just like when I had in high school. Dating as an adult was different though, I wasn’t a shy, young girl anymore. I was a woman with a woman’s desires and needs. I would have let Mark have me on the first date, after a good night kiss that left me breathless but I couldn’t. The thought of him seeing me, naked and bare, scared me to the point of frigidity.
Tonight was the night though; I had promised myself that I wouldn’t back out this time. In fact we were having dinner at my place so that I wouldn’t have the drive home to talk myself out of it.
Checking the clock I hurried and dried my hair, straightening into a ruby wave that flowed down past my shoulders. Slipping the short black dress over my perfumed skin I almost changed my mind about wearing no underwear. Instead I put on sky high stilettos and walked out of the room. I had a plan and I was going to follow through even if it killed me.
Mark was at the door precisely at 9 and I had a bottle of wine chilled and ready to pour. Two glasses later we were cuddling on the couch, his hand sliding down my silky calf and back up again, higher each time until his fingertips brushed the hem of my dress. His touch mesmerized me, enthralled me so much that when he stopped mid thigh I groaned.
His grass green eyes met mine and searched for the answer to his unspoken question. I could tell he didn’t want to be rejected, not again. When I tried to say yes my mouth was dry so I spread my legs a little, that fraction of an inch answering for me.
Mark pulled me to him, forcing me to straddle him as his mouth crushed mine. Weeks of frustration and longing made his kiss punishing and I met his assault with my own. He held me close to him as he explored my body with his hands.
Moaning, I rocked my hips against his hard cock. My cunt was swollen and craving, needing something only he could give. Mark pulled back from me and told me to stand in front of him as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Pushing my dress up he trailed kisses up to my wet slit and slowly parted me with his tongue. I cried out in ecstasy as he sucked hard on my clit, an orgasm hitting me almost instantly.
“Cassandra, I must have you,” Mark said as I he took his mouth from my quivering pussy. “Strip now and let me take you.”
“Mark, wait,” I said, trying to catch my breath. I hadn’t meant for this to go so quickly, I had meant to tell him earlier. “I have to tell you something. Something about my body….”
“Oh, Cass, I love you for you and your body is wonderful. Please let me see more of it, I need to be inside of you.” Mark was pushing at my dress as he stood. His words comforted me and suddenly a botched boob job didn’t seem so bad. I let him take the dress the rest of the way up.
Retching sounds filled the room and I could hear Mark running through the house. He had stopped with my dress around my head and I had to struggle to get back into it to see where he had gone.
The front door was open and Mark was almost to his car. I called him name and he turned just before jumping in, a look of horror on his face.
”Mark….Mark come back….I can get it fixed. Mark….Mark…..”
Mark faded away as a familiar voice intruded from nowhere.
“Cass, wake up. It’s time to go,” Sarah stood there with her gym bag in hand and her purse in the other. “Dr. Goldstein isn’t going to wait forever. We have to be prepped by 8 a.m.”
Oh yeah, today was my breast augmentation. This time next month I would no longer be a boring B but a full blown double D. The dream though, the look of terror on the mythical man of my dreams face.
“You know what Sarah; I think I changed my mind. I think for now I’m just going to stay a boring B. I’ll still go with you if you want me to though.”
Two months later I couldn’t help but notice how much attention Sarah’s chest was getting as I sat alone at the bar. A guy sat down beside me and I looked up. He had the most amazing eyes, like the green grass of Ireland.
“Hi, my name is Mark….”
Monday, April 27, 2009
1
Some days I am unsure of how I feel, whether the way I feel is real.
See the problem is that I have changed opinions so often in my life that I am scared to make decisions.
Feelings inside me are just emotional collisions; I rubberneck inside my own prison.
Life happens to me and I am an observer in my own corner of reality.
I don’t know whether I am sick in the head or just sick and tired, tired of this life, sick of this world.
I know it’s cliché but I feel like The Fates were extra hard on me.
If others could only see the horrors afflicted on me, then no one else would ever think woes me.
See the problem is that I have changed opinions so often in my life that I am scared to make decisions.
Feelings inside me are just emotional collisions; I rubberneck inside my own prison.
Life happens to me and I am an observer in my own corner of reality.
I don’t know whether I am sick in the head or just sick and tired, tired of this life, sick of this world.
I know it’s cliché but I feel like The Fates were extra hard on me.
If others could only see the horrors afflicted on me, then no one else would ever think woes me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
