"I'm going to take a walk."
She was Chinese, born in China, here on an "achievement" visa. Best in her engineering class at Nanking State University. Best in her English class. Best in her family. Best, best, best... whenever she thought about it she saw a glimpse of USDA advertising.
"What ? Are you crazy ?"
Los Angeles. How strangely different, the thing is from a distance. She had seen so many pictures. How little can you know of a place, even the more pictures you've seen. A picture emerges in your head, from the pictures you see. Ever since she was a little girl she thought this Los Angeles thing, like a cartoon character, a friend in her head. If your parents give you a doll, a prince charming doll... if they tell you it's your future husband... if you call it John, and if you one day meet a John, will it be like the doll at all ?
"I'm not crazy. I'll be right back."
The door clicked behind her. Many Chinese came to work here. Over the centuries. Was it the same then ?
Many of them married here. She married here. Was it the same for them ?
The doll had a weak chin. She never noticed, she didn't know what a weak chin even was. It's not the same in China, somehow. Things are different there. Everything is different.
She was walking down the street, under the lamps, passing the small alleys, thinking. She gathered her robe about her tighter, even though there was no reason in the sweet Summer night. She perceived no reason. She perceived nothing, walking with her thoughts. Suddenly she was face to face with a man. She opened her eyes, wide. He was tall, his eyes were piercing right into hers, through her eyes, into her chest, where the heart beat. His chin wasn't weak, not at all, and his hand was around her throat.
"What do we have here!" he hissed, pointless hostility in his voice. She swallowed. "Little miss gone out for a walk ?" She nodded. He lifted her by the throat, little bath slippers almost lifting off the ground, dangling helplessly off her tiny feet. "You do what I say, bitch." he spat in her face. Her eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head. He set her back down, almost gently. She considered passing out.
"Say : oh mister, I hope you won't make me go into that alley."
"Oh... mister. I hope... you won't make me go... into that alley."
"Higher, bitch. Talk like a stupid whore. You know Marilyn ?"
Yes, you could say she knew Marilyn. So many nights of her childhood spent trying to immitate something about her. In her head, in bed at night, falling asleep she always dreamed herself Marilyn in some way. Maybe the hair, or at least the hairdo. Maybe... She fucked the President, didn't she ?
Marilyn always came to her before the mist in the dream. Is that how you call it in English ?
"Oh mister, I hope you won't make me go into that alley!"
Her voice was wilting and feminine, her consonants Jersey-closed... She suddenly looked incredibly saucy for a careerwife.
She walked into the alley ; waddled a few steps in just her left slipper, having lost the other during the airlifting maneuvers earlier, but then kicked that one off too. She paddled barefoot past the garbage bins, towards the dead end, looking at her toes. She was thinking of painting them, a moment ago, in the shower. Perhaps she should have had. A careerwife with painted toes, living the technically-minded family life of young professionals. She wondered if Mr. President walking behind her knew differential calculus.
"Oh mister! I hope you won't make me take my robe off and throw it in that dumpster!"
"Oh mister..." she cooed, as she disrobed, "I hope you won't make me take my robe off" she cooed on, as she lifted the heavy, square mile lid, "and throw it in that dumpster..." She turned to face him "I have nothing else on..." she continued, eyes on her toes, "I just came out of the shower." She clasped her hands behind her waist, knuckles white, pushing her shoulders back. "I'm squeaky clean, mister, please, I'm a good girl. I just shaved for my husband. I never did before."
"You married, whore ?"
"Yes sir mister. I'm married. I never did anything..."
"You never fucked around before ?"
"No mister, I never fucked around in my life."
"You will be fucking around from now on, is that understood ?"
"Yes mister. I will be fucking around from now on. That is understood."
He gave a hearthy guffaw. "Turn around and lift that thing. Put your small gook titties under it, there you go, that's the ticket. Now let it down on them. She squealed in pain as he moved behind her. "That's right, bitch, squal for it!" he said, as he impaled her in one hard thrust. She squealed again.
"Got any kids ?" he asked, grunting, pumping her from behind for all he had.
"Not any kids mister. We're preparing for it later."
"Ah... hahaha. You will have kids now, bitch. Is your hubby some kind of a cuck ?"
"Yes mister. My husband is a cuck. His name is John. And he's a cuckold. John's a cuck. He's..."
Her legs were turned, big toes almost facing, soles lifted off the ground by the force of his thrusts. Her hands were on the garbage lid, pushing it down, hard. Her breasts hurt like the world was ending, the nipples especially. She wondered whether they'll fall off before he's done, as she pushed the lid down harder, as hard as she could.
Then panic suddenly welled up inside her, like a dark horror, rising from within. Somehow she saw in the mind before she could even feel it, and then she felt his meat leaving her hole, and then she heard a juicy pop and she felt wet all the way down to her knees.
"Did you do it, mister ?" she sang, wiltingly.
"Naw, bitch. Time for you to suck it."
"Please come in me first, mister president. I'll suck it after, I promise. I swear I'll suck it as much as you want but first make it in me."
She felt his meat make its way of her insides again, a white wave of satisfaction radiating warmly within as without. She nearly passed out. Her breath was ragged, her vision blurry.
He took her by the hand, and lifted the garbage lid off of her with one thumb. She couldn't feel her breasts. She couldn't feel anything. She turned to face him and went on her knees.
"That's right, suck it, garbage girl!" Her mouth was too full to talk, but she gurgled.
She had never sucked cock before, she had no idea how it went, but his hand that had freed her from the lid gently bobbed her head and eventually she found a rythm of her own. His other hand was still holding hers, and she was holding his. Eventually his right hand got her by the scruff of her neck, his magic thumb pushing on her jaw, and he forced her hard in as his meat started making its way of her throat. She couldn't breathe. She didn't care. She lay there, helpless, a rag in his hands, as he fucked his own palm with the base of her skull for padding. She lay there dying for a while, not caring while she was dying, not moving, not struggling while she was dying, but eventually, just as everything was turning black, she found her breath again. It was different ; she couldn't hear anymore, her jaw felt like it was permanently dislocated, but she knew she wasn't dying now, and for the first time in her life she felt... useful. She felt used, the most wondeful thing in the world. She closed her eyes and waved inside with the waves of her tiny, nude body. It's better to be a garbage girl, she thought, over and over again.
"Come along now, show me where you live, whore."
They walked back, hand in hand, her knees buckling every step of the way, her bare feet paddling on the Los Angeles pavement, soles completely black with tar and dust and urban grime, her body covered in fresh bruises and streaks of filth. She was walking naked down her street, under the lamps. There she was, in plain display, with a perfect stranger holding her hand. Yet she wasn't in the slightest worried about it. Besides, she didn't think it possible anyone would recognize her like this ; and she wasn't worried anyway.
"Do you know what differential calculus is, mister ?" she asked at length.
"Naw bitch, I don't go for that fancy math stuff." he retorted, flatly.
He doesn't go for that fancy math stuff, she thought to herself, over and over, as they stepped down the street. Once at her door she turned to him frankly. "Do you think I should paint my toes, mister ?"
"Sure. Get your friends to do it, that's how it's done."
She thought about Daiyu painting her toenails. She's a physicist, solid state. Would it be the same for her ?
"Is this the place ?"
She nodded, silently.
"Go inside, and give me your keys. I'll check on you later."
As she cracked the door a plaintive voice could instantly be heard, as if it were spring-loaded to it : "Hoooneeeeyyyyy ?"
"Yes John. It's me. I'll hop in the shower."
"Shower ?! Weren't you just in the shower ?" the voice inside wore on, but ever less audibly. She looked at her president as she put her keys in his hand, a long, sucking look, like she absorbed him through her eyes ; then suddenly she fell on her knees and kow-towed before him. She kissed the tip of his left shoe, and then dissapeared inside.
* * *
Meanwhile at the sports bar down the road, on the other side of the wall closing the blind alley of her englightment, a buncha guys hung around a table.
1: Oh, shit! Man... fuck! If the Pistons win I'm gonna fuck my wife so hard!
2: The Pistons haven't won a game in like... forever, what are you talking about.
1: Yeah, I know. I like long odds.
3: Makes it better, huh ?
1: Oh yeah.
4: Never fucking her ?
3: Hell yeah!
4: I thought I was the only one.
3: Fuck no. I've not stuck it in the old lady for six years now.
4: How do you do it ?
3: Oh, easy-peasy. At first I kindof started eating her out before, you know...
3: Then, by stages, you know ? We tried 69ing, then bit by bit got her more into 69 than fucking.
2: And you train her, right ? If she makes you sploodge, you stop. If she doesn't... you don't stop. She figures it out as she goes along, sooner or later...
3: That too, and also one day just left my pants on, you know. Kinda grabbed her wrist whenever she was trying to undo them, and then started going at her standing, and like that.
2: After peeing ?
3: That's an idea...
2: I did her like that once, a coupla years ago. We were at a cabin. It was pretty fucking boring... anyway, she went to pee then yelled for tp, that it was out. I went in there and instantly had an idea, you know.
4: I bet she liked that.
2: She fucken loved it, are you kidding me... when we got back home she beelined for the bathroom, then half a minute later yelled "honey! no tp!!!" with her feet up on the seat, all grinning. She hadn't even peed.
4: So what did you do ?
2: I ate her out till she had to.
1: That's not how I did it...
3: Weren't you just married last year ?
1: Two years ago.
2: So how did you do it ?
1: First wedding aniversary, right ? I told her I have a surprise, made a big deal out of it, bought handcuffs and blindfolds and everything the weekend before...
W: Can I get you boys anything ?
3: How about a lapdance ?
4: What if she said yes ?
1: Then he'd leave his pants on.
3: Hehehe you betchup.
2: Don't forget what you were saying, you bought handcuffs and crap...
1: Right, and made a big deal, like it's gonna be a surprise, whatever. So I tie her arms up on the bedpost, and start working on her, you know... all the while this kid she used to date back in college is waiting in the other room.
1: Yea, so I kinda lead him into her, all smoothly and shit...
2: Did she suspect anything ?
3: I'm sure she did.
4: Yeah, they can tell.
1: She sure didn't let on, though...
2: Maybe she didn't, if she was into it.
1: Nah, she confessed later that she could totally tell it wasn't me.
2: How ?
3: She said it felt good.
1: No, it's true. She said it felt like a real man for once.
3: It's the truth.
1: Man, that moment though... when I pulled her blindfold off and she saw him ramming into her...
2: What did she do ?
1: I don't know how to explain, you had to be there. Like it broke something inside of her, she kept trying to squirm away. But I was firm. "Bitch, take it!"
3: You said that to her ?
1: Oh yeah. I was all like "you have to take this" and she was like "but I don't want to" and I was like "you have to anyway, all the way" and she was like "but why ?" and I was like "I'll explain it to you later".
4: So what did you say ?
1: Nothing for a while. There a few more guys there, you know, I had some friends over.
5: But first he ate her out.
3: You ate out his wife's creampie ?
5: That's a positive.
3: Man, don't say that.
5: I just mean...
3: It's bad luck.
1: Luck don't enter into it, it's all skill. They weren't done with her until seven-thirty in the morning, she had to go to work.
4: She went to work like that ?
1: Yeah. She wanted to call in sick, but I wouldn't let her. I was like "you're not sick, you're just a whore that's all".
2: What did she say to that ?
3: Hehehe. What could she say ?
1: Right ?
2: How many dudes total ?
1: Three with her ex.
4: But not counting you.
1: Of course not. I don't count in that.
5: Preach it brother!
3: Wild, wild stuff.
1: She called me from work, around ten or so. I didn't even let her take a shower, I made her go in just a dress with nothing under it. She was slick from sploodge all the way down to her ankles, she was dripping as she walked.
3: So what did she want ?
1: This guy at work wanted to give her twenty for her to give him a handjob.
2: Did you make her suck him ?
1: Half'n'half, all the way. I was like, "ho, what difference does it make to you anymore".
1: She was like "oh, why do you make me do this".
3: What did you tell her ?
1: I said "I wanted to know if we need money some day, if I can depend on you."
2: That's fucking great.
1: Then I was like "and guess what ? we need money." and I hung up.
1: You bet. She came home with like three hundred dollars. That's like, almost more than her paycheck.
3: So if the Pistons lose... can we eat out your wife ?
1: Now that you mention it... twenty bucks a head should do it.
2: Smooth's right, this was the best pimp pitch I ever heard.
3: I'll tell you what -- I'll give you two hundred, if you have her train mine.
5: That's what I said!
1: Sorry, can't do it.
2: Aww, man...
3: If I pimp her, I pimp her. She's mine, not yours.
5: Yup, that's what he said.
2: So wait, you're gonna turn her out ? Like, on a daily basis ?
1: It's not a sure thing, some bitches are dumb. But that's the idea in general.
3: And I have to pay you for this ?
1: Five hundred upfront.
1: And one hundred a week, for rent.
3: What the hell's that for ?
1: You're living with my ho, aren't you ? You'd better be, I ain't taking any strays.
4: That's some live shit right there.
1: And of course premium rates whenever you do anything with her.
2: Are you serious ?
5: Yuppers, he's serious.
4: Is he pimping your wife ?
5: For like two months now.
3: So what's it like ?
5: I tell you, I think I coulda bought myself a chopper with the money that ho leeched offa me.
2: How much is it ?
5: Handjobs and eating her out are twenty a pop, but there's all sorts of rules and they keep changing, like if you go over five minutes there's overages. And of course she's always looking to upsell you on top of everything. Like a pro!
3: So is it worth it ?
5: I tell you I never fucked the old lady half as much the whole year as since she's been turned out proper.
4: That's something...
2: So what's the fees like ?
1: Basically you have to pay 50% over what the punters pay, because she's your wife. What the punters have to pay depends on demand though, you know, on superbowl night it's gonna be expensive. Or if there's a convention in town. Or a game, or whatever.
1: And then of course there's the fee for how much of a loser you are.
4: Do I still have to buy her jewelry and presents and crap ?
1: I mean... if you want to. But not really, she's a whore, who cares about all that anymore.
5: I care, man. I mean...
1: That's how you pay like the biggest sucker fee of all the guys.
2: You got more than yours and his ?
1: Yeah, I got a few.
2: So it really would be no problem for you to turn out another wife ?
1: Not usually. Everyone thinks his is different, but really, they mostly all go for it. There's exceptions, but... rarely.
3: What do you do then ?
1: Nothing, really. I just tell the guy to forget about her. I mean... they're really not worth anyone's time.
4: Isn't that what it's supposed to be all about ? True love and loyalty and all that ?
1: If you want to waste your life... sure, why not.
4: It's a waste, huh.
1: From what I've seen so far.
2: So... like...
1: You want to do it ?
2: I sure as fuck want to do it. I just don't know how to go about doing it.
1: Invite us over for dinner, tell her it's a very important client from out of town your boss told you to dine. I'll figure her out.
3: How about me ?
1: Same deal.
4: But how do you go about it ?
1: Oh, there's lots of ways. You can rape them in line, like mine went. Or you can you know, squeeze them in when they're "just trying to help", they have to go into this hotel room and take all the cock to save you, or get you a promotion or whatever, you owe money to the mafia. They're doing it for you, right. Or you can blackmail them, you know, first it's like "show me your tits" and then it's "if you don't suck it I'm going to tell your husband" and they just go from a small thing bigger and bigger. Many just fucking love that. Or if she's a herder you can just get her in with a bunch of whores at the spa or the beach or whatever, we did one like that and it was a lot of fun. First they'd take their bra off, you know, and made her do it too to fit in. Then the panties, then before you know it wifey was all naked in the mall, no clothes no nothing.
2: That's hot.
1: She was like begging, you know, "please, let me get in the car, I'll do anything, I'll do anything".
3: You're on.
2: Word. You're so on I have to go home now.
1: Fuck her freely while you still can, my man. It won't last very long now.
4: He's right. See you guys later.
5: Magic, the ungathering.
1: (Answering his phone) "Yeah ? How many ? Yeah, okay, I guess I can swing that. Where is it ?"
* * *
"I want you to leave him, Marjorie."
"And marry you ?"
"What's wrong with that ?"
"And move to a new house, redecorate it maybe ?"
"I like this one."
"I hate it. Every which way you turn, I'm sure it's 'oh, I bought this with my husband', 'I whatever with my husband'..."
"Well, inasmuch as it's our house..."
"And who's this other guy."
"You're the homewrecker."
"You don't like that, baby ? Coming into another man's house and wrecking his most prized posession, his wife's cunt ?"
"Like one of those Russian dolls, all wrapped into one another. There's a house, outside crane shot, panning. Then there's a kitchen inside, scanning shot over the counters. And there's a loving wife working on those counters. And under her skirt there's a juicy little cunt, just like this one, look." She took his hand and followed her body with it, using his limp index to accentuate her contours. "There's a cleft, and immediately in it a little hood. And on the sites, two little lips, ready to part. And..."
He was on top of her, panting, desperate. She lay on her back, her knees hooked over his, her arms extended limply to either side, her breasts swaying with his thrusts. Her head, to the side, gazing imprecisely in the distance, while she kept half humming, half talking. "Oh, that's great, baby" she mouthed slowly, with no discernible thrust behind the sounds. "Just like that, wreck my husband's home. Ruin my vagina for him, baby, yeah, yeah, like that, like that, fuck it up, fuck it all up."
He pumped her relentlessly, a cold sweat dripping off his back. He pumped her as if stopping for a second, for a breath even, meant she'd dissapear in a waft of smoke. She was very wet, from herself and from him, but his cock was still chaffed, blunt, like he had been pounding on it with river rocks. It felt like a bruise. By now the wet spot they had been working on was reaching well past his knees, but it didn't seem to do anything. It never caught, somehow. When suddenly...
"Fuck, that's him."
"Shut up." She was wide awake, suddenly up, her long nails drawn in like a tiger's claws.
"Your husband ?"
"Shit, you sure ?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I know the car, I know what noises he makes. It's him. He'll be here in like three minutes."
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuck..."
"What do I do ?!"
"Here's what you do : you go into that closet like a little boy. And stay there quietly."
"What ? I..."
"No. That one. Don't cock this up, you hear ? Get in there, we don't have time for anything else. Put some of my lingerie on while you're in there, but do it quietly. Very quietly. If he finds you, the story is you're a pervert, and you broke in to spy on me and steal my panties."
"What ? I... I..."
"Don't be an idiot." she hissed, steely. Then suddenly soft again, womanly, motherly. "It's the easiest way, baby. He's not mean, he won't hurt a poor impotent weirdo."
"But but... I... I'm not impotent. You know I'm not."
"The fuck difference does it matter. Let him think what won't hurt him, jeesh."
"What if he calls the cops ?"
"He won't, I'll see to that. It's your ticket out of here safe and sound, now hold on to it."
"Hooney ? I'm hoome!"
"Up here baby!"
As the steps creaked up the stairs, she flipped on to the softcore channel.
"Game finish early ?" she kitty'd in his direction as he appeared in the doorframe, half-yawning and stretching her back, arms folded backwards, wrists extended on either side of her head, lifting her knees and spreading her legs to best expose herself.
"No, it's just... I was thinking about you, and... " his voice shifted gears upon noticing the copious wetspot. "What happened here ?!"
"I was touching myself. Thinking of you and touching myself. Ever since you left..."
He didn't say anything, just dove face first into her, sampling her once with his tongue, then going in for suckling the clit. She let out a yelp, then whispered "Easy, honey. It's sensitive. Lick the hole more."
He moved further down her street, wondering whether she knew he knew. He had been eating his own sploodge for a while, all of it. It wasn't easy, it took some doing, but he ate it all up now. He knew what it tastes like. All the while she wondered if his original hesitation was actually due to his tasting another man between her legs ; but no, it wasn't possible. He wouldn't move on to eating him out of her just like that, if he knew. Just with one word. Would he ?
She grabbed his head firmly between her strong thighs. He always loved that. Then she turned her hips, forcing him to the side, then after a few moments turned again and straddled him. His tongue was moving ever deeper into her, and she swayed and moved her body to help him reach. She could feel her muscles relax, she could feel her folds release their precious bounty into his mouth. Does he know, she wondered incessantly, like a yoyo toy dangling from the fingertip of her clit, always pushing and pulling one way or another. Well does he ?
She turned the other way, to face his balls. They had done this so many times it had whittled itself into a fine art. She held his shaft very firmly into her left. She moved it now and again, to touch his flare, but rarely, and slightly. Just enough to keep it hard. She lifted her ass off his face the slightest bit, and slapped his balls. That meant he had to change what he did, and he went into licking her along a line from her asshole across the length of her gash and back again. She could use his shaft like a gear stick to command her pleasure out of him every which way, and she'd slap or claw or cup his balls by whim or merit. She was thinking about his hair in her whore wetspot, and wondered if he knew. Did he know ?
Eventually she had enough. "Honey ? I have to pee!"
He separated himself from her with a wet pop. "Do it on me, honey!"
She turned to look at him, over her ass. "Ok... but in the kitchen. You can mop the tiles later."
She felt him nod between her legs, then lifted her right knee and unwrapped herself off him to the side. "Fix me some hot chocolate, I'll be right there. I just want to put some stockings on." He grunted satisfiedly. "You can handwash them in the sink later, too!"
As his steps creaked the stair the other way, she grabbed her phone. She set it to night time and then opened the door. Sure enough there was baby boy, looking pretty in her nighty. She machine-gunned the shots.
"Hey." he kept hissing, "Hey! HEY! FUCKIN' HEY!"
"Shut up, I want the memento. Lift the hem up, let's see what panties you have on."
He looked ridiculous in the get-up, but she didn't mind. She didn't mind one bit, she made him turn, and move and pose every-which way, telling him how pretty he looks all the while. Once she had enough for a whole album, "I'm going to take him out of here. Once you hear the front door close you wait a few minutes, then walk right out to your car. But..."
"I want you to go like that."
"In this ?"
"It's very emasculating, Marjorie."
"Good." she stared right into his eyes. "Good, let it be emasculating. Maybe that way you come to terms with your role in life. Maybe that way you'll stop pestering respectable married women about leaving their husbands. Anarchist!" she spat in his face, straightened her back and turned rigidly. Then, right by the door, "Fucktoy!"
"What's that, honey ?"
"Nothing, I just stubbed my toe."
"Oh, poor little toe!"
She went downstairs, got the cocoa mug off his hands, hooked her left heel on the counter top and nodded : "Kiss it better, honey!" Then, as he was suckling her toes and licking in between she released her bladder in a warm, overwhelming cascade. She loved doing it to him by surprise. She always aimed for the ear, and she really enjoyed it when she got him. She always could tell when it hit home, there's an involuntary twitch. Maybe that's what she liked about it, how absolutely true it is, she thought.
It always confused him, between whatever task he had and the new, deluvial development. He didn't know which way to go, or so it seemed, and she'd frown and nod seriously at him, imparting upon the matter all the momentuous gravity it could bear, and then some. He alternated between her toes and her issuing vulva until she was well spent, and well after.
"Look what a mess you've made!"
She flung the remainder of her thick, warm cocoa on his face. "You're a filthy, filthy boy!" Then, after a pause, "Honey, let's go out."
"Like this ?"
"Yeah, let's take the Toyota, drive around a little. Find a nice quiet spot, tie you up, maybe you get a handjob..."
"Sounds like a plan"
"Maybe I leave you there..."
"Maybe I make you drive by the overpass, where all the whores are. Tell me, honey, have you ever eaten pussy another man came in ?"
As the door slammed behind him, Mr. Four knew there was no going back.
"You mean, yours ?"
He knows, she thought, just as she cooed sweetly "Any pussy, honey."
"That's what just happened back there, isn't it ?"
"Yeah" she nodded gleefully, barely able to contain her excitement, hopping quickly from one foot to another. "Yeah, that's right. You ate him out of me, cucky. How was it ?"
"It was... it was great!"
"It's even better now, huh!"
"I knew it! Hey, you wanna see him ?"
"Quickly. Get in. And be quiet."
Not a minute later, a silhouette (named thus for Etienne de Silhouette, a man famous for petty economies and shocking cheapness in general) snuck out the door, half bent at the middle, landing on their well-lit porch and scurrying away.
"What the hell is he wearing ?!"
"My nighties you bought for Christmas last."
"The ones with the chaffing panties ?"
"The very same! His choice."
"Why is he wearing that ?"
"When you came in you surprised us. I didn't know what to do, he was in a complete panic..."
"He was ?"
"Oh, yeah. He keeps asking me to divorce you. He has serious intentions, don't you know. This very grave tone, 'Marjorie, I want you to divorce him.' he says."
"Are you ?"
"Hell no ? You're not getting rid of me as easily as all that, bitch boy!"
She cuddled into him happily for a second, even started with "You wanna see his..." but then she stopped, and turned, pregnant with realisation. There was more in there.
"What is it ?"
"You first, see his what ?"
"Oh, I took pictures while my secret lover was secretly in the closet. Did you know he was there by the way ?"
"Not a clue, huh ?"
"None at all."
"I guess a lot of wives get away with it, huh. Anyway, you wanna see ?"
They thumbed together through her collection of pictures depicting a crossdresser in a closet somewhere in suburbia. Then she turned to him. "Well ?"
"You know honey... at the game..."
"There was a guy there."
"He specializes in turning wives out."
"He's like a pimp, for married women."
"You want me turning tricks, is that it ?"
"Think about it, Marjorie. You're already doing it. You're already a whore, a married whore. Why not pick up a little cash with it ?"
"You mean, 'why not have someone's livelihood depend on keeping you stuffed, Marjorie, always fulla cock, Marjorie'. That's what you mean. That's it, huh ?"
"Oh honey... it's... it's just..."
"That's fucking it. Get the fuck out of the car."
"No buts! You're walking back home, asshole. You're walking back home as you are, fucking NAKED!"
"We're parked right next to the house."
"Don't fucking talk back to me, bitch boy! Out! OUT!"
She kicked him out the door with her excited little feet as he was getting out of the car, then followed him into the house on the motive power of the same. "Well ? Aren't you calling your pimp friends, setting it all up ? Whoring out your wife ? What are you waiting for ?"
"I hope he'll make you pay through the teeth if you so much as try to lay a finger on me."
"That's the idea."
"Now clean this stinking mess out. I'm going to bed. You're in the cage tonight, Ruffiano!"
"Don't oh, honey me!"
* * *
"I don't understand why you needed another shower."
She was laying across on him, at an angle. Not quite 120 degrees, but not really that far off. Her bare ass was resting in between his thigs. Her left hand, no longer clasping a stranger's, was stroking his penis slowly, disinterestedly. He really loved that. His head was turned towards her feet, and he'd kiss her toes occasionally.
"I told you already. Sometimes people get dirty."
"But you just had another shower."
"Yes, that's true. Do you think a lot of people know about differential calculus ?"
"Don't try to change the subject!"
"Okay, John. I won't change the subject."
"Hot water isn't free, you know. We're on a budget here, we have to make our bugetary goals."
"Our bugetary goals", she inganna'd along with him.
"You agreed to them! When we talked about it!"
"Yes. Besides, it wasn't a shower, I took a bath." she said, her mind's eye reviewing obsessively flashbacks of her, on her back in the tub without a stopper, knees clasped as hard as she could to her very painful chest, warm water splashing happily, harmlessly around. She felt so full.
"We agreed not to take baths. Taking a bath takes twelve times more water than an efficient shower. Don't you care about the environment ?"
"Yes John, I care about the environment."
"May I open my eyes now ?"
"No, don't open your eyes. Keep them closed."
"Will you stop stroking it if I open my eyes ?"
"I'll stop anyway. Then start again. Maybe. You're supposed to be patient. And don't open your eyes."
"Okay. But... what did you do in there ?"
"In where ?"
"In the shower."
"I told you, I took a bath."
"Where are you going ?"
"I'm going to have to tie you up."
"But why ?
"Because you ask too many questions."
"I don't! Please don't stop..."
"I'll be right back."
"Will I have to sleep like this ?"
"Yes John, you're definitely sleeping tied tonight."
"But why ?"
"Because you ask too many questions."
"Is that the only reason ?"
"No. You'll have to sleep tied because the stroking will get painful also."
"You mean after I... after I... ?"
"Will you make me eat it ?"
"How painful does it get ? Does it get very bad ?"
"Oh, yes. Very, very bad indeed."
"Worse than that time ?"
"Much, much worse. So, so much worse..."
"Oh, no! "
"Actually, you don't work tomorrow, do you ?"
"I'm night shift. I have to sleep to have good efficiency in the workplace."
"Oh, I don't think you'll be having much efficiency at all."
"Are you keeping me tied up tomorrow, too ?"
"But why ?"
"Because I'm hoping something will happen ; and it'll be easier that way."
"You just don't want me to see you, is that it ?"
"That's right, John. I don't want you to see me."
"But why not ?"
"Because I think I'm pregnant."
"Oh... oh... that's... I thought we agreed..."
"We're agreeing right now."
"We are ?"
"But... when did it happen ?"
"Just now, John. It just happened."
"What do you mean, just now ?!"
"Are you ready to eat your ejaculate ?" she asked, just as she was straddling him.
"But I haven't done yet!" were the last words out of him, and for a little while.
"Yes you have, John. Don't you remember ?" she cooed while stroking him lightly, while her womanhood was depositing the spurious leftovers, the unnecessary extras on his eager lapdog tongue. "You just did it in me, right after I took my shower. I shaved down there for you, and it excided you so. Then we made love, remember ? You were so great, the perfect lover, John. And now you're eating it out of me, for efficiency. It's better for the environment this way, John. And then, after you're done, I will have gone for another shower, but you won't let me, will you ? Because we agreed, we have budget goals, we can't waste the water willy-nilly. So I won't go shower like I wanted to, and I'll be pregnant."
"But what about the bath ?"
"Shh. There was no bath. The stopper wasn't even in."
"I know, I heard."
"Shh. Focus more on the flower. That's where all the sweet nectar is."
"But what about tomorrow ?"
"What about it ? Tomorrow's just like today. It only hasn't come by yet, that's all."
"But you said something will happen."
"Something always happens. It's nothing to be concerned with."
"It isn't ?"
"It isn't. You just have to do what you're told, and all will come out well in the end."
"Is that why I have to be tied up ?"
"Yes, that's it. You always do what you're told when you're tied up."
"That's true! So that's why it's going to be easier ?"
"Yes, that's why. Maybe tomorrow some people will come over for a visit. We'll wait for them, anyway."
"How many people ?"
"I don't know how many. We'll see when they get here."
"What do they want ?"
"Who knows what people ever want ? We'll see when they get here what it is they want."
"And will we do whatever they want us to ?"
"You and me."
"I love you."
"I love you too."