Flesh Wounds

Flesh Wounds

 

1.

At 16 Karen began to despise her parents and most of her friends. The reason was because she was short, overweight and not at all pretty. Or so she thought. All the other girls at school and around where she lived were slim and sexy and had the boys falling all over themselves everywhere. With her they laughed, made jokes and moved on. When she told her parents about it they said the boys were fools who didn’t know anything. When she sought her teacher’s advice she told her not to worry that: “Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. You’re an art student. Just look at the nudes of the great painters and you’ll see what I’m talking about.” That was easy for her to say. She was a woman in her forties but still attractive in a way that turned men’s head when she walked on the street. And it was the same with her mother too. She was also in her forties but still attractive enough to have a man nearly fifteen years younger as a lover that her father or sisters didn’t know about.

 

She tried diets, pills, analysis and even hypnosis. But none of it worked. All they managed to do was make her more aware that she was doomed in that overweight body with breasts so large that they were already starting to sag down towards her stomach. On the beach she would put on her bathing suit and then wrap a towel around herself from under the armpits. She hardly ever went into the water but when she did she would run in quickly then wade in until the water was up to her shoulders. She was a good swimmer. That was the one thing she could do well but no one ever really noticed. But that along with her ability to draw were her two talents, But she knew in her heart of hearts that nobody gave a damn about either one. “The world is full of good swimmers and artists so there’s nothing special about what I can do.” As far as she could see the world and the people she knew were too busy going about their lives and celebrating their beauty. She knew it because she could see it in their eyes and behind their smiles when they talked to her. And because of that she wanted to find a way to spite them and make them pay for being the shits that they were. But try as she may she couldn’t think of a thing that would be appropriate. It bothered her tremendously and frustrated her too. Then one day it came to her. Came to her in what seemed like a flash.

 

2.

There was a man who lived in an abandoned tin shack at the far end of the road from where she lived. The area had been derelict for a long time because it was said that the government would one day be building a school or a park on the property.  Several people had lived in that shack for awhile and then it was empty for nearly a year. Then that guy Brewster took up residence in it. He was ex-military somebody said and was a perhaps brain damaged because of it. But no one knew for sure. What they did know is that he was something of a hermit who behaved strangely and went about his business most of the time. He had a beard that he never cut and it was sometimes possible to smell him from a way off. The interesting thing is that he wasn’t that old. He had to be somewhere in his thirties at the most. But because of his state he looked considerably older. When he first arrived some years before he worked in a hardware store and had managed to keep the job for over a year when liquor and his unreliable behavior made it impossible for them to keep him any longer.  After that he did odd jobs here and there and often stood on the street with his hand extended looking for handouts. He was in short every parent’s nightmare of what their kid might become.

 

One day after school she saw him on the street and looked into his eyes. He looked back at her and she saw something that she recognized. Resentment and anger and rage maybe. Those were the same things she was sure he could see in her eyes. She thought about it and stopped by to look at him day after day when she knew no one was around. Early one Saturday morning when everyone else was a sleep she took her bike and rode down to where he lived. She knocked on his door and boldly walked in when he opened it. Once inside without a word she just started to undress while he just stood there looking at her. Then went to the ratty looking sofa he had in the corner laid back on it with her legs well apart and gestured for him to join her. He did and that was their first coupling. After that she went there every Saturday morning and each time they embraced it was in a different configuration from the time before. She never said anything and neither did he. They just came together in silence and when it was over she would get dressed and leave, go back home shower and then joined the others in whatever activity they had planned for the day. And all through those activities she would wonder what her mother would say if she knew where she had been? What would her father or sisters or friends would say if they knew? It was her joke, of course. But it was a good one on them. 

 

Things went on like that for more than a year with no one knowing where she was going on those Saturday mornings. All they knew is that her personality was changing. That she was becoming more outgoing and upbeat. She was whining and complaining less and her art work was getting better and better. Her parents said that she was finally growing up. Her friends said that too.

 

Graduation came and she was an honor student who got a scholarship to a very good Art School in Connecticut. That meant she would be leaving home at the end of the summer. So she savored those last Saturdays with Brewster and even broke their pact of silence by telling him that they wouldn’t be seeing each other anymore because she would be away. He didn’t say anything but she was sure he understood. At school she did well and then went off to Europe to spend some time. When she finally did get back home six years had passed and she considerably different. She was still a bit on the heavy side but she looked filled out and somewhat voluptuous. She had even managed to forget all about Brewster and their time together. Then one day she passed him on the street and looked into his eyes but there was no sign of recognition. And that was just fine with her. She was a different person now and she assumed that he was too. She then moved to Paris where she remained for three years then settled in New York City where she worked for a magazine and a museum. There she met a guy at a party who said he fell in love with her on first sight. They were married shortly after and today are the proud parents of two boys.

 

3.

 

Brewster remained in the shack until the government sent in a work crew who told him that he would have to leave. They even offered to try and find him another place to stay. But he never responded and the next day when they showed up he was gone. No one knew where he went to. He just disappeared never to be heard from again. The site was turned into a park with lovely walkways and small flower gardens with a charmingly ornate fountain in the center. Almost exactly in the spot where Brewster’s little tin shack used to stand. Someone joking suggested that the call the fountain Brewster’s place and somebody else took the joke seriously. So now there is a small copper colored sign just at the outer rim that says: The Fountain at Brewster’s Place.  On occasion now when she returns home Karen goes to the fountain with her kids and looks at the sign. She gets the joke but isn’t sure how many others do.

 

-DM

The Initiation

The Initiation

a script by

Gus Edwards

 

Man

 I don’t believe in blackness as a weakness, a race, a state or a condition. I don’t believe in organizations or togetherness. I don’t believe in any kind of gatherings, tribal or otherwise. Are you listening to me?

 

(She shakes her head yes.)

 

Man

I don’t believe in God, religion or in creatures from outer space. I don’t believe in fairy tales and scriptures either. I believe in the power of me and the force of who I am. A power and a force that sets me apart from everyone else. That power is mine to share if you will join me. If no, that’s quite alright too.

 

I’m standing here, you’re standing over there. I will not come to you, I need for you to come to me.

 

Her

Why?

 

Him

It is a sign of your acceptance. Your surrender to a power that is greater that’s you and me combined… Religion asks you to accept things on faith. They ask you abandon thought and accept their dogma without question or skepticism. I say just the opposite. If you can’t see your way to me based on what is going on in your mind, then you better turn around and leave because I won’t accept you any other way.

 

So what’s it going to be?

 

Her

I – don’t know.

 

Him

You have to know. You’re not an idiot or a fool.

 

Her

I’m sorry but I just don’t-

 

Him

Now! I want your decision now. And remember if you say yes it’s a wholesale commitment without conditions or reservations.

 

Her

Uh huh.

 

Him

So what’s it to be? Is it yes or no?

 

Her

Yes.

 

Him

I can’t hear you, speak louder.

 

Her

I said yes.

 

Him

Come to me. (She moves closer.) Remove your clothes. And after you do then remove mine. And after that your initiation will begin. Do you understand?

 

Her

Yes, I understand. I do.

 

Him

Then let us proceed.

 

(As she moves towards him the scene fades.

 

The end

 

The Story of Miss Vera

The Story of Miss Vera

 

 

The first time anybody in here seen the woman was the night she came in with Billy B. the singer from the Randy Boys Band. And his being with her wasn’t any big surprise. You see Billy B was always coming into the place with good looking tourist women. Most of them were American and most, nearly all were white. Once in a while you would see a black one but most of the time they were white. And this one was no different. She had nice looking red hair, good bones in her face and a tight looking body with a proud looking chest pointing right at you.  Billy introduced her saying that her name was Vera. She didn’t say anything just smiled and nodded to me and the other boys at the bar. And it wasn’t until later when she excused herself to go to the ladies room that we could get a real good look at the body and the ass that was moving around in those tight fitting white slacks that she was wearing. And after that the only thing anybody could say to Billy was: “Boy I don’t know how you do it but you really know how to find them. Look to me like you gon be doing some sweet riding tonight.” But Billy didn’t say much. He just shook his head and said: “Everything ain’t what it look like. This ain’t just about pleasure. This is more about business.” Then he went on to tell us that the woman was married to a record company executive in the US and she was down here scouting to find talent because Latino and West Indian music was getting big in America. ‘So you boys got it all wrong. The woman and I ain’t screwing, we talking business.”And when you come to think of it maybe he was telling the truth because Billy was always talking about leaving the island and becoming a big time singer in New York or Florida or someplace else on the mainland. What he had said was that he was waiting for the right deal to come his way. So who knows, this might be it.

 

Yeah, and we all believed it until late one night some days later one of the fellows said that they saw his car parked off the road by the Old Dutch Windmill and him and Miss Vera was in it hugging  and kissing and going even further than that. So who knows if he was lying or telling the truth or maybe a little bit of both. And you can’t say that you can blame him because  the way that woman looked  a man would have to be next door to a priest not to want to get on that body and feel it moving sweet under him.

 

Now after a while you could see her around town going into stores or the Post Office shopping and buying things. Her regular hang out was the Sandy Bottom Beach Club where she would lie out with in her red bathing suit wearing sunglasses with sun lotion oil all over her shoulders and legs. After a while she would rise and go down to the water, put her toe in to test it then walk in far enough to where she could dive in and come up shaking her head. Then she would swim out a distance but never too far. Then she would turn around and come back in. There were always a lot of people on the beach both local and tourist. But somehow Miss Vera stood out. I think it was because of that shape and also because of the red bathing suit.

 

Miss Vera and Billy B was a thing for about two weeks, which is longer than we were used to seeing him with anybody. Then one night he walked in with into the bar with another woman. When the boys asked what happened to Miss Vera, Billy just smiled that smile of his and said: “Nothing, nothing at all. It was just time to make a change, that’s all. Just time to make a change.”

 

More than a week went by and didn’t anybody see Miss Vera around. But it was known that she was still on the island because she had moved from The Hilton Tropic Hotel where she was staying to the Sea Breeze Motel that was smaller and a whole lot cheaper. A move like that told everybody that she was planning to stay a while which was interesting. Maybe it was true that she was looking for talent for her husband and decided to stay a little longer.

 

One night late she came in with The Mighty Zeus, the calypso singer at the Carib Aires Hotel. They sat at the bar and she smiled at me like we were old friends. Now Zeus wasn’t cool and sophisticated like Billy B. He was with a good looking woman and wanted everybody to know that he wasn’t just there to buy drinks and talk. Minutes after I served them their drinks he took her outside by where the juke box is to dance. And when we peek out you could see he was doing all kinds of things to her with his hands, lifting her dress and squeezing her behind while pressing her closer and closer to him. And she wasn’t doing anything to resist him. In fact it looked like she was going along with it all the way. The hour was late and the outside where they were, was dark but we could see enough just from the light coming from the juke box. Then when the music stopped they went out to the back where all the bushes are. We didn’t hear any noise or anything because the wind was blowing and the juke box was playing another record.

But later when Zeus came back into the club he was alone and smiling. He asked for a drink and said that he needed it. ‘That woman is an animal, man. A stone cold animal. No matter how much you give her it ain’t ever enough. But I need a break to build up my strength then I’m going back out there. She ain’t wearing me out. If anybody gon do any wearing out I gon be the one.”

 

They were together for about a week and everybody thought that he was the one who would be getting the record contract. But then he was out and she started coming in with Kenny Bredslowe, the guitar player from the Harris Street Combo. After that it was Big Burt the bass player from the Scratch-Scratch Island Band. Then just when everybody had it figured that she only went out with musicians the woman turned up with Benjy the barman from The Flamingo Hotel. And it was always the same with her and me.  I would put up her drink and she would smile at me like we were old friends. And in a way we were. I mean I had seen her with all these guys and it wasn’t any secret with she was doing with them. And although we never spoke much at all it was like we had this understanding between us. What that understanding was I can’t really explain. But it had something to do with all those guys and the fact that she was going through them one at a time.

 

Time was passing and it didn’t look like she was planning on leaving the island anytime soon. She had moved from the Hilton to the Sea Breeze and now she had moved once again. This time to the Seaside Cottages which wasn’t a hotel but a series of little houses and a whole lot cheaper…Nights when she wasn’t with a man she would come into the club by herself, sit at the bar and order a drink. The boys would talk to her, buy her drinks and even ask her for a dance. She never said no. She would go dance with the guy for a bit then come back in to finish her drink. Some even offered to take her home but she would just smile, thank them and explain that she had a car. And always there would be an exchange of smiles between us to indicate that she knew what they were after and could slip the punch without hurting any feelings. After a while all that talk about her being a scout for a record stopped too. It was like everyone forgot all about that. Now she was just another good looking American woman living here for whatever reason and laying up with all the guys.

 

One thing you could never say about Miss Vera at any time was that she was ever dirty or unkempt. Even at those times in the bar when it was clear that she was drunk and her eyes were glassy or her walk unsteady the woman always looked neat and well put together with her hair and makeup just right. How she could hold onto herself like that was interesting. At least I found it so.

 

The other question that was in everybody’s mind after awhile was where she was getting the money to support herself and pay her bills. During this time there had been a few cases of American women and men who had come to the islands for one reason or another and wound up staying longer than they had planned. If they stayed long enough they would wind up broke and having to get a job or in extreme cases begging for money and wind up living on one of the beaches. But this wasn’t the case with Miss Vera. She paid her bills on time, ate out in restaurants regularly and went out to clubs just about every

night.

“It only stands to reason” one of the boys at the bar said. “The woman must have a rich husband somewhere sending her money regular.”

“He must be some kind of idiot.” another one said. “I mean to support a woman just so that she can run around the island laying up with any man she feel like got to be the dumbest thing I know.”

“Maybe he don’t know. Maybe he think she here just having a quiet island vacation.”

“A woman who look like that?”

“Yes, I got to admit, she does look good. The one thing I wish is that one a these nights she would give me a chance.”

 

And so the talk would go on. The interesting thing about it is because she was such a nice person the talk and gossip about Miss Vera wasn’t as mean or nasty as it usually was about American women who come down here and go through a lot of island boys.  In fact for a long time nobody said much even when you did ask. Some would even go so far as to tell you point blank that it wasn’t any of your damn business. But after five months or so word started to leak out. And things hit a peak when Mongo the cab driver said that he saw her with Avery the policeman and Jacquin the busboy messing around together  on Plum Beach one night.

“What was they doing?”

“I told you messing around in all kinds a ways.”

“Meaning what?”

“What you think, you is a grown man figure it out for yourself.”

“The three of them together?”

“That’s right, together. One in front and one behind and they didn’t have any clothes on either.”

 “ And you seen this with your own eyes?”

“I told you. You don’t have to believe if you don’t want but I was there.”

“All by yourself?”

“No. I was there with Chrissy.”

“So she see them too?”

“That’s right. But she probably won’t admit it because she ain’t gon want anybody knowing that she was there with me at that hour a the night. You see that might lead them to asking what we was doing and she ain’t gon be wanting to answer that.”

“What was you two doing?”

“None a your damn business, that’s what we was doing.”

“A woman like that is like a bitch dog in heat, man.” One of the other fellows said. “After awhile one man ain’t enough so now she got to have two.”

And so the talk continued. Finally one night Billy B opened up and said:

“I can’t say anything bad about the woman. I mean she was nice to me and everything. But if you asking about that other thing all I can say is she’s good. More than good, she’s special. That’s all I gon say on that subject.”

Mighty Zeus was a little different on the subject.

“A woman like that can’t have one man. One man ain’t gon be enough, I don’t care who he is or how strong either. It got to be at least two or maybe three or even four. With a woman like that you never can tell. We had our thing together and it was nice but I could tell early on that I wasn’t going to be enough. So we end it and that was fine. I got no hard feelings about it. The woman was nice, I’ll say that for her. The woman was real nice to me.”

 

And so it went on and after a while her reputation was in the gutter just like any other American woman who come down here and let herself stick around too long. Still though you couldn’t tell it by looking at her. She was still beautifully dressed and well made up. She still looked spectacular at the beach and she still commanded a certain kind of respect when she came in the bar by herself. The very same fellows who ten minutes before were saying all kinds of low things about her would almost stand at attention and offer to buy her a drink just to have her look their way. And she would, give them a smile and then look at me and almost wink at their silliness. Now I have to say we never became friends in the real sense of the word. It was like everything that passed between us was done through looks and not words. Still for some reason I felt like I knew the woman better than most and I think she felt the same way about me. I mean if there ever was a relationship that didn’t need any words ours was it. And I’ll take that even further. I think that if she had remained on the island any longer she and I might’ve gotten together. And I don’t mean just in the bedroom either. We might’ve gotten together the way women and men should get together, in our hearts, in our minds and in our souls. But that’s just me talking, or maybe dreaming. Anyway, we’ll never know.

 

One day I woke up and it was all over town that she had been arrested. They said that the police raided the cottage she was staying in and found her naked with two guys along with liquor and drugs. They had been making so much noise that someone called the police to quiet then down not having any idea what was going on in there. The guys weren’t locals. They were two Latinos from South America who were on the island illegally. How they met up and what they were doing was anybody’s guess but at the moment all three were in jail. When I heard about it I went to see her to see if I could help. But they refused to let me. They said that they were in contact with her husband who was on his way down and that his lawyer’s instruction was  not to let her speak to anyone but them.

 

That afternoon her husband arrived with three other men. They said that two were lawyers and the third was a doctor. Word had it that she was sick and had to be taken off the island right away. And that’s what they did. That night with whatever arrangeme3nt they made with the Police Miss Vera was released and put on a plane with her husband and those other men. And two days later the two guys she was with were deported as illegal aliens. And that was the end of the story. At least most of it. Guys at the bar talked about her for a little bit and then forgot as time went on and other women arrived and captured our attention in their own unique ways.

 

More than a year went by and somebody at the bar said:

“Remember that American woman Miss Vera?”

“Yes.”

“Well she’s dead. Killed herself in a hotel room in New York.” The person talking was Billy B. He had been to New York to visit with his sister and he heard the news.

“She was living in Connecticut in some institution they say. He husband put her there because they say she had mental problems. Anyway I guess she ran away went into the city, took a hotel room and swallow a bunch of sleeping pills.”

“How you know all this?’

“It was in the papers. They even had a picture so I know it was she.”

“That’s a damn shame.” The fellows in the bar said. “That’s a crying damn shame. She was a nice person and a generous woman too.”

They boys ordered a drink and raised a toast to the memory of Miss Vera. I didn’t join them but later I had my own private toast. Not just to her memory but to the memory of what might have been. The sun will go down and it will come up again. And somewhere in that twilight I’ll see the silhouette of her walking along the beach in that red bathing suit lost in her own thoughts going about her own business, whatever that was.

 

– GE.

The Detective #6

The Detective #6

(An unfinished case)

 

He was an old guy that everyone said wouldn’t hurt a fly yet he wound up sitting on the sofa in his living room with his throat cut.  The apartment was only a few blocks away from our precinct so Jessie and I got the assignment.  We looked over the scene and could see that it wasn’t a robbery. Things were too much in place and there were no signs of a struggle.

 

The first thing we did was clear the room of none essential personnel. The Super told us that he was gay and that on occasion he would see young men coming up to visit him. A look at his photos told us that her was too old to attract them on his own. A look at his checkbook told us that the guy had money so paying wouldn’t have been a problem. Later we asked about friends and family. He was from Michigan but hadn’t lived there for years and years. Whatever family he had was long gone. So he was this old guy with money living in the city who had no friends.

 

There was a bar he went to somebody told us. So we went there and asked around. The help knew him and several customers did too. The general opinion was that he was a regular who came in at a certain time, had a few, paid his bill and always left a good tip. They said that he was always polite and friendly and couldn’t understand why anyone would want to harm him. Then we were pointed to the manager who told us pretty much the same thing except he added that it was because of Austin that he hired a Latino waiter named Jesus. “I took him on as a busboy based on Austin’s recommendation. The guy worked out so well that we made him a waiter in a few months although his English isn’t the best.”

“And then what?”

“Then one day Austin came in all angry and upset and told me that he had made a big mistake about Jesus. That he found out tat the boy was both illegal and that he was a thief. I told him that I couldn’t fire a guy on his say so. That Jesus was a good worker.”

“What did he do?”

“He didn’t say anything. He just went back to the bar. Tell you what I thought. I thought that they must’ve had a lover’s quarrel or something. But to tell you the truth I never figured Jesus as one of them. First of all he’s very religious. And secondly, he’s got a girlfriend. But these days, who the hell can tell. Anyway I spoke to Jesus about it just to give him a heads up. He admitted that he was illegal. But that he was getting it fixed. Him and his girlfriend are planning to get married. About Austin he told me that the guy had him up to his place, propositioned him and when he refused he got mad told him to leave his place.” He had no idea that Austin would try to get him fired as well.”

We asked him to point Jesus out to us but he said that Austin was off that day. We then talked to some of the other waiters on the floor and started to get a picture of how Austin operated. He would come in and be very nice to all the staff especially to the new guys. After he got to know them he would slyly proposition them in one way or another. If the guy refused he would just let it pass and never bring the subject up again. One guy told us that he did pick up on the proposal and accepted an invitation to have dinner with the old guy. “I’m an actor, well aspiring. He told me he had a friend at this big agency and maybe he could introduce us. So I figured what the hell.”

‘What happened?” “We met, had dinner and went back to his apartment and he tried to put the make on me. I told him I wasn’t into that scene. I don’t think that made him happy but he didn’t say anything., so I left.”

“And what about the agent?”

“We never talked about it again. When he came in he was friendly as always but the subject never came up. He never mentioned it so I didn’t either. And that was pretty much it for him and I. I’ll tell you though; there was something kinda creepy about the guy. You didn’t see it when he was out in public. But alone at his place you felt it.”

 

Well so much for “Mr. Nice-guy” who wouldn’t hurt a fly. We found two other bars where he hung out and the stories were pretty much the same. Apparently he would start out in the morning around eleven and by seven that evening he would’ve hit each one and spent a considerable amount of time at each.

“That guy must have some constitution” Jessie observed.  Having been a bartender in another life I told him that’s how it’s done.

“They come in sit, order and talk to whoever’s around.  When they get bored they move to another place and so on. That’s what keeps these bars in the black. It’s customers like Austin.

 

It was turning into a long day so we went back to the station wrote up our report and went home. There was one more person we had to talk to, that was Jesus. We figured that his story would probably be a variation on the same stuff we’d been hearing. The only difference being that he seemed to be more friendly with Austin than the others. Jesus was there when we got there at ten the next morning. The place opened at eleven so the waiters were all wiping down tables and putting out chairs. The manager called Jesus over and introduced us. Right away the guy looked scared like he wanted to run if he thought he could. We took him to the little outside café they had on the side street for privacy. As we sat down Jessie told him that we weren’t from the Immigration Department and that seemed to relax him a bit. We asked about Austin and he told us that he was sorry to hear that Mr. Austin was dead.

“How did you get to know him?”

“My cousin used to clean his floor. When he couldn’t he told Mr. Austin about me and introduce us. But then Mr. Austin said he had no more work. But that he would find me a job if I would talk to him and be his friend. So I said sure and he got me the job here. We used to meet for dinner every week and everything was good. Then one day I told him that I had a girlfriend and that we was talking about getting marry. I don’t know why but he suddenly get mad.  Said to me that I was not grateful to him for getting me the job. That I use him. That I only take but never give. Then he said that I would regret it and for me to get out. Then Mr. Wallace tell me that he tried to get me fired from the job. When he come in I ask him why but he said he didn’t want to talk to me.”

We asked where he had been the night before. He said that he was at his girlfriend’s place all night. The girlfriend verified his story and a few people in the area said they saw him leaving her building around eight that next morning. So his alibi checked out.

 

“So where are we with this?” Jessie wanted to know.

“Nowhere so far. What we know is that the guy was a predator who ran into the wrong prey. But who that was is yet to be discovered. It happens every day in this city.”

“So what do you propose we do?”

“Keep it on the desk for a while and see what develops.”

“Sounds good to me.”

So that’s what we did. We had other cases that were more pressing. But still it would be nice to stamp CASE CLOSED on this one.

(To be continued.)

 

-RD.

Answered Prayer

 Answered prayer

There were two of them now, the major and the minor, the older and the younger, the experienced and the inexperienced and they moved all over him with the industry of worker bees. At first he could tell one from the other even when he closed his eyes but after a while things began to blend and suddenly it all began to feel the same. The touches, the urgings, the murmurs and cries, the whisperings and even the laughter, all, all the same.

 

It had been fun at the start but now things had been going on for too long. The night had moved from darkness to early morning dawn and still the train kept moving on. It was like they couldn’t stop or for some reason didn’t want to stop.  But he wanted to stop. He wanted a respite, a pause, a break in the action for him to recharge, regroup, reanimate and renew his enthusiasm. “Perhaps they could entertain each other.”  He thought but no such luck.  They weren’t interested in each other, only him. And that was the way he wanted it when they started. “Be careful what you wish for.” is a warning he’d heard a long time ago but didn’t really understand what it meant until now. Saint Theresa once said that more tears are shed for answered prayers than any other. He was now finding out what she meant by that too. But there wasn’t much he could do anymore but just lie there and take it. The inmates had taken over the asylum and now madness reigned supreme.

 

It will have to end sometime, he knew. What he was hoping is that it wouldn’t end with his demise.  For that’s the way it always is when the prisoners take over the prison or the rebels take over the country. There are always casualties. “What an irony’, he thought. “To be a victim of my own sensuality. My own sexual excess.” He had been seeing both women separately and got this idea of bringing them together. t took a lot of preparation and a lot of careful planning. But he achieved it. Maybe achieved his objective too well. Too well indeed.

 

To look at them now you wouldn’t think of them as killers.  And maybe they don’t think of themselves as killers either. But if they continue like this very soon they might be. Very, very soon. And what could he do about it? Nothing. Just lie there and wait.

 

-DM

Carnal Monologue #14: A Treasure

Carnal Monologue # 14:  A Treasure

 

Character: male  –  40s

 

She didn’t look like much, at least not now. But in her youth, that is to say in her 20s into her 30’s, she was attractive enough to attract two husbands and her fair share of boyfriends and lovers. But now she was in her mid 40s and after having two children and not taking care of her body she looked pretty much like most of the other plain women one passes on the streets daily.  Hair just sort of there, clothing unimaginative and a face lined and anxious with worry about one thing or another and a body that’s slightly overweight and moving further in that direction.

 

I met her through a friend, a woman I was pursuing who was ten years younger and in the full bloom of her womanhood and sexual appeal. A woman who although she was friendly and flirtatious never took my interest seriously because as she put it; she was saving herself for a “man with money”. And as a poor waiter working in a restaurant I didn’t qualify. Delores told me so that day in the park looking me in the eye when she said it.  There was laughter in those eyes but there was something else too. Something I recognized but didn’t acknowledge. There was an offer, or at least the suggestion of an offer. Something that said:”I’m available, if you’re interested.” Or at least that’s what I thought was being said although no words were spoken. Just a look that was exchanged.

 

I was 28 and full of the arrogance and uncertainty that comes with being young. So I had to think about it and look over my options. It took me close to six to decide; sure, what the hell. But then it was too late. She wasn’t available anymore. She had taken her children and moved out of the city to parts unknown. I wasn’t sure if I should pursue it further but something inside sort of told me to try it. What have you got to lose? So I got her address from a mutual friend and sent her a card with a few lines saying hello. What I got back was a two page letter telling all about her life in a small town with an invitation to visit anytime I felt so inclined. A month later I took her up on the invite and was greeted with open arms when I arrived as though we had been long lost lovers before. It was interesting to be in a situation where you didn’t have to wonder what would be coming when the night comes and the lights go out. Just the way she greeted me said that our connection would be consummated soon.

 

That night after dinner when the kids were off to sleep we sat in the living room drinking brandy and listening to Broadway show music. I was on the chair, she sat on the floor. It was the winter season and a light snow was falling outside. Inside she had a fire going in the fireplace. It was providing the only light in the room. Then without an exchange of too many words she worked her way to my chair and put her cheek on my leg, then started stroking me through my slacks. Pleased with the response she was getting she kissed me several times through the fabric before moving her fingers deftly to free me. And once I was free she wasted no time in moving toward her original purpose. The music on the stereo played and then played again as we investigated and explored each other from one angle to the next, from one position to another making all the stops that our imaginations told us we should make. Finally it became time to get off the floor and move into the bedroom. And that’s what we did leaving a trail of clothing behind that would be retrieved early in the morning before the kids wake up. And that’s how it began and that’s how it went for all the time we were together.

 

In the four years of our time with each other she was follower and leader, recipient and initiator. In other words I would select a sexual l path for us to travel and she would come along. But when we got to my destination she would then strike out on a side road I didn’t even know was there. She would beckon me to follow and I would gladly and gratefully. And that path would lead to another and another and sometimes yet another. “Like a circle in a spiral or a wheel within a wheel.” The variety was infinite and each time we got together I knew that I was in for a new adventure. The bedroom, her bedroom was an inner sanctum of fantastic delights. A cave of shadows and light in which dragons and gargoyles

showed themselves in flashes and sustained moments of suspension only to then disappear never to be seen again. It was a genuine rollercoaster ride unlike anything I had ever experienced before. And all from a woman who looked so plain and ordinary to the naked eye.

 

Now in spite of her experience she wanted to get married again. I didn’t want to but I said that I would think about it. My reluctance was because of her age. She was too old and I knew it. But that didn’t seem to worry her at all. I was able to stall things out for four months then she took matters in her own hands. She sent me a letter telling me that it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to visit anymore. That we were obviously moving in opposite directions and any more visits would be a waste of time for both of us. I respected her wish and didn’t contact her anymore. I found out later that she is now married an ex Army colonel who has a lot of money but is confined to a wheelchair. I know her to be an honest woman who will know how to keep him contented based on how she was with me.  The question in my mind is: Does he know what a treasure he has? Because I didn’t and it is something I will always regret.

One moment in Time

One moment in Time

by BAX

 

When I woke up again three hours had passed and the sun was rising slowly. I turned and she wasn’t in bed anymore. I could hear the radio playing so I got up, took a shower and went into the kitchen to join her. He lip was cut and there was a big red spot on the side of her face.. We stood there for a moment looking at each other without saying anything.  Finally I spoke. I said: “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.  She stood there for another moment and then came to me and we hugged. There were tears in her eyes, I could feel them wetting my neck as we stood there just holding each other once more in total silence because I didn’t know what else to say. I was ashamed beyond all reason but didn’t have the words to tell her so. So I just kept on holding her saying over and over again: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

We didn’t leave the house for the rest of the day. We just remained together holding each other and talking and listening to music and watching TV and looking at each other and just being close. It was the closest we’d been in a long, long time. And if I had to pin point at time I would have to say that this was the moment when I fell in love with her.

The Erotic Spy #5

The Erotic Spy #5

 

The Heterosexual Symphony

 

Hetro sex/love is now taken so for granted that it is often belittled, disdained, ridiculed and outright dismissed as boring and unsophisticated. A practice enjoyed only by dullards who lack the will power or mental agility to seek other avenues as outlets for their sexual passion. Homo, lesbo and other forms of gay love in all its infinite is viewed upon, written about and cherished as terra exotica. A no-man’s land of  a thousand and one delights.

 

Heaven knows hetro love needs no defense, cheerleader, champion or herald to trumpet its validity or potency. It’s been here long before we were and will; continue to be long after we’re gone. Men and women by natural design are created to be harmonious entities when they come into a sexual embrace. She opens herself, he slides into her and the wonderful symphony of sexual congress begins.  She raises a leg and an unsuspected note chimes in sweetly. He puts his mouth on her breast and another sibilant  sounds. And it goes like that as a cacophony of sensations and noises swell and invade this symphony of love changing and reconfiguring it in a new and original way. And if the partners (musicians) are imaginative and unafraid each  time they come together the familiar symphony will resonate with new and pleasurable variations. Like good jazz the possibilities are endless if the musicians are willing to follow their impulse and the impulse of the other musicians they’re playing with.

 

Sometimes what we call love is involved but often it’s just plain animal lust. A spark fanned into a blazing inferno by something as small as a glance or a bit of exposed flesh. One never knows.  The origin of sexual desire is as surprising and mysterious as the existence of man on the planet.

 

Polite society with all its pretensions and manners has more often than not robbed us of the courage to admit our interest or predilections when it comes to sex and our need for it. It makes us play games of avoidance and disinterest, pushes into corners of deceit, dishonesty and hypocrisy. This partially explains the popularity of pornography, especially the movies, boring and dumb as they usually are. For here we see people, women and men, being open and natural with each other without consideration of the invisible “moral police” looking on. And because of this we view these films with some astonishment and awe. Awe at the way they perform their sexual ritual or dance without shame. We envy them that freedom and moments after or sometimes even longer than that embrace those virtues as our own. But then social convention with its multiplicity of artificial rules and strictures intervene and we’re right back to where we started ten or a thousand degrees of separation from the site of our natural animal instincts and urges. Once again following the fraudulent dictates of a deliberately ignorant class structure that has defined heterosexual sex in such narrow terms that it frequently dull and unimaginative. So much so that other sexual practices does indeed appear to be more interesting and exotic. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

 

Sex between a man and a woman and be exciting, unpredictable, daring, outrageous, exciting and surprising in a variety of ways. One just has to know what she/he wants and be unafraid to pursue it. It is a universe that’s waiting to be discovered and rediscovered, a landscape to be travelled and explored, a sanctuary to inhabit and consecrate. The time to begin isn’t tomorrow or the day after. The time to begin is now.

-anonymous.

The Explorer

The Explorer

by BAX

 

Like the lens of a movie camera

panning slowly and gracefully

I started at the top

and slowly moved down to

her eyes, then her nose

and after that

her lips where

I lingered and lingered.

 

Then it was her neck

and throat and then

below.

First one and then

the other, kissing and licking,

then nudging and nibbling

and then after that

taking it all in like some glutton who

could never get enough no matter

how much you fed him.

 

How long was I there?

Who the hell knows.

A long, long time is all

one can say. Then

it became time to move on.

To roam further and explore

the terrain even further.

The search and investigate

the other secrets that the

land might be keeping.

 

And then darkness came and

I found a crevasse to settle into

for the whole night and

even into morning.

 

It had been a long, long time

getting to this place so

why not stay awhile and

enjoy as well as appreciate

what the land had to give before

moving on to other places

and other delights.

 

10-8-11

 

The Midnight Stranger

The Midnight Stranger

a prose poem by BAX

 

He felt her presence in the room. His eyes were closed in fear but he could feel her in there. She moved cautiously to the bed and sat at the edge for while. He opened his eyes and looked as much as he dared but there was nothing to be seen the room was eternally dark. Pitch black like the blackness inside a tomb or the blackness that lies beyond eternity. So he closed then again. Then she lay back gently on the bed. He moved slightly and curled himself into a ball with his back to whoever it was laying next to him.

 

He felt her fingers touching him and instinctively he drew into himself a little more. She touched him again and again he drew further into himself. Then she whispered into his ear: “Please let me…please.”

He stopped moving and just lay there waiting for what would happen next. She felt her move closer and then he felt the kiss, nothing more, just the kiss. Then one kiss became more. Frightened, tentative kisses on his chest, on his stomach on his thighs and then beyond that. But where was the body that went with the feeling of those lips. Where was the face, the eyes, the touch of the hands? Nothing, just the feeling of two gentle, caring lips moving all over him pausing at specific places to rest and luxuriate. It went on for what seemed like hours and then he fell asleep.

 

When he woke up only three hours had passed. And along with the time the strangeness and fear that he had been sensing had passed too. He turned on the light and the other side of the large bed was ruffled as though someone had been n moving around on it. But he knew for a fact that he had been all alone. Another odd thing is that the radio was playing. He hadn’t turned it on but there it was playing softly. Tuned to that classical station he enjoyed at this time of night. Mona had been dead for three years but it was her he knew who came into the room. He knew her technique and her style. she had apparently come from somewhere far just to be with him for that time. He wondered why he was so afraid and promised himself that he won’t be the next time. For he was certain that there would be a next time.