He should have turned in his dick

It wasn’t the flu.

She would always think everything was the flu.

There would come a day, he thought,

When he’d come stumbling in with a sucking chest wound

And she’d diagnose the flu and make tea

While he bled out.

Fuck that. She was gone now-ministering someone else.

It was probably a torn meniscus. Fucking stairs.

Had one of them before; fingered the old scar on his left knee

As the right one pulsed-swollen and hot.

‘If I knew I was gonna live this long, I’d a’ taken better care of myself’

Was something his old man used to say.

He mumbled toward the end, his old man.

Didn’t want to open his mouth to show the tumors and sores

That were already too far along to deal with.

He winked at himself-and me behind him-in the mirror.

Dressed like a million bucks he had one more score in him.

Or so he thought.

They found him beside the dumpster in the alley behind the club.

He was barefoot. The fuckers had even taken his shoes.

He was alone now-having broken with his woman last month.

Over sex.

All she wanted to do was blow him.

He wanted something more intimate;

A nice slow screw with kissing. Like that.

She wouldn’t, so he let her go.

When he told that to an associate

Who had gotten exactly five blow jobs in his life-

And one was from his uncle when he was a boy-

The guy looked at him like he was nuts.

‘You should have to turn in your dick’, he’d said.

He took a pill out of the bag before taping it closed.

One more or less – it will still bring two grand.

He limped out the door and took his time

On the stairs.

Turbid

CSX-CSX-CSX-CSX-CSX

Stenciled letters emblazoned in yellow

On every black coal car that roared too fast

Past his window.

CSX-CSX-CSX-CSX-CSX

He got dizzy and stopped counting at forty-nine

And just stared. Mesmerized.

But they kept passing

Until there were no more.

His vantage point so narrow he never saw the end coming.

When the rumbling subsided, the warm salty silence

Coursed through him again.

He lifted his eyes to the river beyond the tracks where something:

Ducks, geese, gulls, buzzards, crows, tow boats, was always happening.

Except now-everything blanketed in a frigid winter fog

The color of rumpled old bedsheets

Revealing nothing but the darkly spectral fingers of denuded maples

And the big sycamore

Sliding in and out of focus

on the near mud bank.

Still he stared, willing something to happen.

It probably wouldn’t.

As would happen at times like this, he remembered.

He was in bed. That he knew.

But it seemed to be daylight-not night.

Was there light coming through the thick drapes,

Or was it a lamp?

He was young. Not little, little…but young.

You’re not going to like this, she said, sitting on the bed beside him;

Causing him to slide toward her.

Why was she in her underpants if it was day time?

He remembered “turbidity” from his years on the boats.

It referred to particulates-mud, sand, what have you,

Clouding the water.

Was there a similar measurement for air? Or for the fog that pulsed and pressed?

Or for memories? Or his own soul?

The more he stripped away, the cloudier everything became.

Upstairs a thump as the cat jumped off the bed

Probably smelling potato chips.

He sprinkled some small fragments on the floor.

He didn’t mind sharing.

Rapeseed Oil

Twice this month alone

I’ve read poems that allude to

Rapeseed oil.

Two different poets writing about different things.

Once, I could see.

Twice?

Or do poets all write about the same thing?

If so, what’s with the rapeseed oil?

What did I miss? Why didn’t I hear about it?

I’ll stop with the poetry for a while.

A third would be too much.

–

Across the way the cat pads at his bed

For what seems like hours with that stupid face he gets.

Drives me nuts until I throw a pillow at him and scream for him

To stop.

He hisses and stomps up the stairs, each loud creak

Echoing through the house.

Coffee tastes like burnt wood without half and half;

There are no more cookies and

Only ten oxys left

in the Imodium bottle in the fridge.

Enough for three days if I’m careful.

Then I have to make a move.

Maddie – 3

 

Perchenonso.tumblr.com

(Continued from Maddie – 2)

It took Chelsea more than a moment to register what Maddie said but read her eyes immediately. But not ‘immediately’ enough. The erstwhile submissive school girl grabbed her wrist and with a quick “Come on!” almost dragged her out the door. Still warm and slick from the scene they had just played Chelsea let herself be dragged-happy to turn over the reins. They stopped in the room where they met to pick up Maddie’s book bag and rushed down the hall to a back staircase which they ascended.

“You know this house?” Chelsea asked.

“Only so far-had to pee as soon as I got here…”

Off the stairs they scampered down a hall to a large bedroom softly washed in the yellow glow of a few tiffany lamps. Maddie, still pulling, dragged Chelsea inside and shut the door behind them, snapping a latch. She turned, yanked Chelsea to her chest before releasing her wrist. Chelsea surrendered herself to the kiss and the squeeze of the girl’s arms encircling her waist–hands exploring up her back then down across her ass. The entwining arms tightened and for a moment Chelsea thought she might have to back away-if she could-so strong was Maddie’s desperate embrace.

Maddie broke away first, sliding her face only far enough to speak.  “Go and wipe that shit off your face”, she breathed nodding toward a candlelit powder room opposite the bed.

“You mean my perfectly applied zombie makeup?” she teased.

Maddie kissed her again-lighter this time with a little nibble to her bottom lip and a hard squeeze of butt-cheek.

“I don’t want it smudging off on the insides of my thighs-or all over my ass.” Maddie released her and began unbuttoning her blouse. “Go” she said with a little push.

Chelsea worked quickly in the bathroom, pulling her shirt and sports bra over her head and tossing them into a heap. There was cold cream, soap everything she needed laid out on a table-definitely a woman’s bathroom. She wondered in her lusty mind if there would be a price to pay for using someone else’s stuff so freely. She worked quickly, the buzz in her crotch building as she cleaned and got closer to being finished.

She shivered at the reflection that she knew so well. The wide, boyish shoulders and angular build, firm if small breasts, flat stomach…her damp hair slicked straight back. Her hands lingered on her belt as her mind whirled through the previous two hours. She had revealed more of herself this evening than she had in the past year. She didn’t know how she felt about it but, right then, as the shivers brought a weakness to her knees, she wasn’t sure she cared.

“Take them down”, came Maddie’s throaty voice from the bed. The door to the powder room was cracked giving the girl a perfect view of her ablutions. She watched naked, propped on pillows with her finger gently stroking the wet place that craved a little less tenderness.

Chelsea gave herself up to the tremors washing through her and watched, strangely disengaged, as wisps of blond hair appeared above her loosening jeans. She allowed them to slide down leaving her nude but for the ‘I need a spanking’ underpants. Too charged to appreciate the joke Maddie said, “Those too…”

She slipped them off. “Now get in here…”

Chelsea tried for a controlled deliberate approach, but fell on Maddie like a starving guest at the buffet table not knowing what to try first. Maddi’s thrusting chest solved the problem. Her nipples were thick lozenges that gave softly to the bite and Chelsea was just settling into them when Maddi, sucking air between her teeth rolled onto her side.

“Here-here…”, she said, hiking up a leg positioning her bottom hungrily. Even in the dim light it was marked and sweetly pink. “Smack me”, she breathed roughly. “Spank me…”

“You want more?”

“Do it, dammit…”

Chelsea raised her hand and brought it down hard expecting a yelp of pain but instead rewarded with a sigh of pleasure.

“Harder…yes…Spank me…”

The demure school girl, her legs tightly pressed together, was gone. She couldn’t open her legs wide enough rolling from one hip to the other to expose more of her bottom. She coughed and mewled lustful whimpers as the smacks rained down.

“Now!” She gasped, not too far gone in her bliss to offer directions. “Squeeze my cheeks-down there at the bottom. Squeeze and rub…”

How she moaned as Chelsea’s hands worked her thick mounds then inside-between-opening her.

“Now kiss”, she growled.  “Every inch-every spot you spanked I want kissed…” She pulled a pillow to her face and pushed her legs backward and flattened. The musky aroma of hot flesh and saliva was heady and thick as Chelsea’s tongue missed not one inch of her backside then pushed her way inside to poke hungrily at Maddie’s seemingly begging asshole. She moaned and-unable to stay still- lifted higher, spreading wider, opening the way for Chelsea’s tongue to slide further under until it slipped fully into her dripping pussy. She lapped from back there until she judged the girl was close then pulled back and rolled her over clamping her mouth over the smoothly waxed mound.

“Make me come…please make me come…” Maddie breathed, grabbing handfuls of Chelsea’s hair. It didn’t take long. Chelsea withstood the head squeezing bucking and rode the orgasmic waves to shore where the legs pinning her head eventually fell open. Chelsea rested her head on the soft cushion of thigh and licked the glistening leavings from her lips enjoying the feel of the girl’s hand stroking her hair.

“I’m Maddie”, she said.

“Chelsea”, she answered speaking directly into her shining vagina. “Nice to meetcha.”

 

(Continuing…)

Radio Silence

When the wind died

He could feel the silence

Pressing.

There had to be a hawk.

Birds were down-

Huddled, gone;

Death in sight.

Silence has its own sound:

Thick winter water

Trickling over pebbles

Under a shell of ice.

Cold trees cracking, breathing.

The lazy wash of his own blood

Coursing, flowing

For the time being.

 

Drinking Alone

I decided to stay in and drink alone today.

Not as dire as it might seem.

We shoveled snow for two hours this morning-

Before she could get the truck out to visit her family.

Then I needed some eggs and a pain pill before

Hooking up the new hot water tank.

Course I needed another pill after an hour on the concrete floor.

Feel free to go out and grab a meal, she said on her way out.

I’ll be late.

My back has begun to loosen;

And my knee to straighten.

Both hands can now open flat on the table.

You got anything to say old man? I ask the empty room;

Startled by the growl of my own voice.

He was quiet for now, but I’m sure he’ll be around later.

My head feels light on my neck-airy;

Like a beach ball in a breeze.

I decided to stay in and drink alone today.

Maddie – 2

 

(Continued from Maddie Marx)

Happily for Maddie she didn’t have to hop after her ear for long. They were going no further than the room Chelsea and Gennie had just visited. The original group of a dozen or so still mingled but it looked as if the physicals were over. Tommy Bellow, his jeans up and a drink in his hand, was standing against the wall chatting with Nurse Kim. All conversation stopped as Chelsea dragged Maddie-still yelping “Ouch! Ouch!”-into the room.

Gennie followed trying to be inconspicuous. She was equal parts mortified, excited and aroused. Is Chelsea really going to spank that girl here in from of everyone?

“Please Ma’am…not in front of everyone…OWWW!” as her ear took a strong twist before being released. Maddie gave the room a quick glance. Holy shit! She thought, there’s a hundred people in here!

Chelsea surveyed the room. “Excuse me”, she said coolly. “Is there a paddle here I can use to thrash this girl?”

I guess she is, thought Gennie and a bird in her chest flapped a wing. She slipped over toward Tommy and Nurse Kim. “Hi”, whispered Gennie, not wanting to call attention to herself. Tommy winked at her and slid down the wall a tad, giving her space to fit in. Gennie had to look up.

“You’re taller than I thought…” she said.

“Well, standing up, sure”, he grinned. Gennie flushed.

“I have this”, Nurse Kim said moving to the corner and retrieving what looked to be a yardstick but upon further review, was a little thicker and wider and varnished to a bright gold. There were bright red numbers etched on it though no one thought it had ever been used to measure anything. Except perhaps one’s endurance.

“Ah, perfect”, said Chelsea taking the offered implement. “Remove your blazer, Miss Hawkins. It’s liable to get a little warm in here for you.”

Maddie fumbled at the thick tortoiseshell buttons and tried to still her shaking hands. This is what she wanted after all. Wasn’t it? Pretty much, yeah, but maybe she had ended up with more than she bargained for as her mother always used to warn her. Her hands grazed her chest as she doffed the blazer and she was conscious of her nipples-firmly ensconced in her bra and blouse-aching as they hardened. Sheryll would joke that Maddie could come at the sight of a hairbrush. That was an exaggeration, of course. Just. But an exaggeration.

Chelsea took the blazer and lay it gently over a chair. “Stand here”, she said indicating a spot in front of the desk. Maddie moved slowly, outwardly reluctantly, into position. “Bend over” was Chelsea’s next command, “Palms and elbows on the desk.” Maddie did as she was told feeling her skirt lift slightly in back.

She held her breath, knowing what came next. The room collectively inhaled as Chelsea pinched the hem of the thick tartan skirt and lifted it up over Maddie’s back.

“You’ve given me no choice, Miss Harris”, she intoned.

“There’s always a choice Ma’am” said Maddie glancing back over her shoulder.

“Eyes front Missy!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Maddie settled. She was fine with the view she was offering. Field hockey was a memory but she spent enough time at the gym and playing in an intermediate coed soccer league to know she was in shape. Of course, Sherryl would pinch her bottom now and again and say something supremely witty like “I found that five pounds you were looking for” but she was a beanpole. Maddie was fine with her backside.

She felt the stick touch her and rub back and forth smoothly over the cotton. She gritted her teeth and waited.

“It’s a good thing she’s not in my class”, Nurse Kim piped up.

Chelsea stayed her stick for a moment and turned toward the throaty lilt of the beautiful mahogany woman.

“Why would that be Nurse Kimani?”

“In my class, three detentions would automatically assure a punishment on the bare bottom.”

“What?” thought Maddie. “WHAT?” She had been spanked in front of others certainly. Usually it was the four of them drinking spritzers and playing cards at Emily’s apartment. Or at the Lodge. That was fun. And hot. This? “Say yuck, she told herself. YUCK!” but no word came out.

Chelsea looked toward her charge and thought she saw her head dip slightly. A nod? An assent? She’d given her the safe word-she could opt out of anything at any time. They definitely had the attention of the room.

The bright white cotton strained across her strong bottom. Looking at her hamstrings and the cut of her thighs, Chelsea-and everyone else for that matter-knew she was an athlete. “What the hell…” thought Chel warming to the task. “No ‘Yuck’, I’m playing.”

“I’m new to this school”, Chelsea announced as if on stage. “I’ll go with Nurse Kim’s suggestion.” Then, without another word and minus any flourishes, Chelsea stuck her thumbs in the elastic and pulled the panties down quickly off Maddie’s bottom. They fluttered to the floor.

“Oh dear GOD!” screamed the voice in Maddie’s head. “I’m bare ass in front of a room full of strangers! Too late for ‘Yuck’ now.” What had she been thinking? Her mom tittered again: something about biting off more than you can chew. No, I’m fine…she said to herself. This is fine. I can handle this. Happily, her bottom was full enough to secrete her most intimate parts inside and under voluptuous folds and crevices. Still, she held her legs primly together already feeling a dampening there.

“That is a beautiful ass”, said Tommy quietly to Gennie.

“Yes”, she agreed. “Very.”

“You like that?”

“You don’t?”

“Yeah, but….”

“Don’t worry. I thought your bum looked very sweet too with the thermometer sticking out of it.”

His no-doubt witty rejoinder was interrupted by the sharp CRACK of Chelsea’s stick across the fulsome center of Maddie’s bottom. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash”, echoed in her head. It wasn’t her mother saying it, but she got it.

She braced for the second swat and even pushed her bottom back a little. Chelsea delivered a smack that echoed off the crown molding and hardwood floors. The bad girl flinched but uttered not a sound.

The third was harder still then the forth the hardest. She slapped the table hard. “Dammit!!” she hissed through gritted teeth. Chelsea listened, but heard nothing else.

“You have something to say Miss?”

“No”, she winced.

Chelsea reared back and struck again and Maddie took it silently.

“She’s good…” Tommy whispered.

“I’d be crying….”

“She might get there…Your friend is really working her.”

By the time she paused there were six bright red stripes across the girl’s ass and she had started to wriggle and undulate in a way that threatened to expose all that she had wanted to keep hidden.  Chelsea gave her a break to compose herself. Not being able to help herself, Chelsea patted, then rubbed both creased cheeks feeling the slightly raised welts.

“A few more Miss Hayes.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to place them lower…here”, she illustrated, sliding her finger, then fingers, along the untouched softness of Maddie’s sit spots. The girl gasped at the touch and growled low in her throat as the torturing touch lingered then stroked back and forth, back and forth leaving their own little white paths. “These will be memorable”, Chelsea whispered close.

“Yes Ma’am” Maddie said.

The stick’s first assault on the soft bottom cheeks was firm and loudly cracking. “You BITCH!” thought Maddie gritting her teeth and tensing back there. Chelsea saw the tightness in the cheeks; the clenching dimpling the skin and tightening the doors to all the openings. This would never do. So instead of swinging away and swatting, Chelsea slapped lightly but firmly.

SLAP—SLAP—SLAP landed the stick. “You need to loosen up Miss Hayes…loosen up and open up.” The paddle was now an onslaught of light cracks in the same place, pinkening rather than reddening the skin. The room seemed to lean forward noticing the shift in tone and tempo.

“Holy shit!” whispered Gennie leaning into Tommy. “This is….”

“Yeah.  Very. Punishment’s over”, he said. “This is reward…”

“You better open girl,” said Chelsea with a menacing smile. “I could do this all night. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP!!

She was already wriggling again trying for relief, but was afraid to open. What if they saw how wet she was. She didn’t know, of course, but it felt like a river was running through her. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP! Oh dammit, she thought. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP! So what? Who cared who saw what? SLAP—SLAP!! ALRIGHT! she pushed backward, not revealing much, not opening completely but making the effort. Chelsea struck once more on the top of the left leg allowing the tip of the stick to impact lightly inside the firm thigh.

“Very good”, announced Chelsea. “Are you finished?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”

“Alright then. You may stand and pull up your panties.” As she did, the crowd dispersed with murmurs of approval all round. “That was hot”, was heard. “I bet her butt is hot.” “I’d like to feel it and see….”

“Shame to cover that up”, said Chelsea. “It’s very pretty-very well marked.”

“You did your job”, Maddie said softly. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet.

“Are you OK? I gave you the safe-word…I figured that…”

Maddie looked up, her face almost as red as her bottom but her eyes shining. “There are only two words I want to say to you”, she said huskily her throat conspiring to choke them off.

“What are those?”

“Fuck me.”

(Continuing…)

Maddie Marx

(Continued from Nurse Kimani)

They wandered down the hall and had almost passed the small empty-looking sitting room when Chelsea pulled up. “Hello…” she said almost to herself. She peeked in and saw a girl sitting alone at a side table. “On your own tonight?”

“Didn’t start that way. My…friends took off when the cops showed up.”

“They weren’t cops” Chelsea said.

How’s she know this shit? Gennie wondered.

“Whatever”, the girl said eyes down thinking that she should have left with Sheryll and Emily.

“But you wanted to stay?”

“We had just got here! They didn’t even have a chance to introduce me around. I figured what the hell-I’ll see where it goes. I put over two hundred into the costume.  Wanted to at least get some use out of it.”

There were two ways to go with school girl outfits: the costume kind cheaply put together with snaps and Velcro meant to be torn off by a stiff breeze. The other way was to shop for a legit school uniform as this girl obviously had.

She wasn’t a big girl but well put together and cute with gray eyes, round cheeks and tiny ski-jump nose. Her thick dark cut short and parted boyishly made her look smaller yet. Her wool tartan skirt broke just above her knees allowing small glimpses of gold toned skin to peek above the argyle knee socks that sheathed what looked to be athletically thick calves. Of course, she wore perfectly polished saddle shoes. Topped off by a white shirt and red blazer she had the complete look of an upper classman in some tony private academy. The vintage Jansport book bag at her feet put the whole presentation over the top.

Sally Harris, whose real name was Maddie Marx, a financial planner with Dewey-Cheetum (but who gave a shit about that here) had been about ready to invest in an Uber to get back to town when these two scruffy beasties walked into the room. Being no fan of The Walking Dead, she was about to ask them about their costumes when the taller girl who did all the talking moved toward her and leaned backward against the desk bracing herself with her arms.

Chelsea regarded the girl coolly weighing not so much her next move, as her next word. Maddie kept her eyes downcast listening for a hint of the direction they might be taking.

“And you are…?” Chelsea asked with a tone of cold authority. There it was, thought Maddie, a tingle touching her deep inside her perfectly chosen white cotton panties.

“Sally Ma’am. Sally Harris.”

“So Ms. Harris, what brings you to my office today?” Maddie looked up and caught the steely gaze of one who was used to getting answers. She noticed Chelsea’s popping triceps on her sleeveless arms.

“Mr. Roberts Ma’am. He sent me here for detention Ma’am.”

“Mr. Roberts, hmm?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“This isn’t your first detention this month, is it? Or even your second?”

Maddie looked down and shook her head softly, bangs brushing her forehead. “This is my third Ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought. Your third.” Chelsea pushed away from the desk and approached the girl.

“You realize that three detentions in one month calls for corporal punishment, don’t you?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I mean, yes, I know that, Ma’am…but please…I’ve never been…punished like that before.”

“Never?”

Maddie looked up, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed shaking her head quickly. She could well have been colored with fear and trepidation but Gennie, watching from the door frame, knew it was something else. She was feeling something as well, watching the drama play out. For her part, Chelsea grew into the role delighted to have a player who sold herself so entirely into the game. It had been awhile.

“You should have thought of that then.”

“Pleeese Ma’am”, there was a little desperation in her voice now. “I really, really…really don’t want to get paddled.”

Ah, paddling, thought Chelsea. She was obviously familiar with that. She might have chosen the cane given the schoolgirl motif, but it wasn’t her scene. There had to be a paddle handy.

“I don’t blame you. Paddlings hurt. Especially ones that you deserve.”

“But…”

“Ones that you brought on yourself.”

Gennie was trying to follow the dynamics but was too much of a literalist to be buying completely into it. She took every one of the girl’s protestations at face value, not able to easily slide under the surface of the outward reality. Maddie leaned forward in her chair, a perfect picture of pleading desperation.

“Please Ma’am. If you would call my mother I’m sure….”

“Your mother has already given permission to punish you firmly should the need arise.”

“But there were circumstances here-in this case that…”

Gennie didn’t exactly know why she couldn’t stay silent any longer. Did Sally need her to say something? Was she feeling left out again as she had been all evening between Chelsea and him? She was here, dammit!

“Chel”, she said her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and began again.  “Maybe you should listen to what…”

Chelsea whipped her head around and glared daggers at Gennie. “You, missy are on thin ice with me right now.”  She pointed a weapon-grade index finger and sighted down it. “Do you want to push it? I can paddle two as easily as one.”  Gennie glanced back at the girl who had dropped her eyes again then back at Chelsea. She pantomimed a key locking her mouth closed and stepped closer to the wall. “Very well”, said Chelsea. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Oh, great, thought Gennie.

Chelsea stepped closer to her charge who was apparently deeply engrossed in her own shoes. “Stand up, Miss Harris”, she said firmly. Maddie stood and for the first time lifted her own true eyes where Chelsea recognized the burning look of pure breathless desire.

Chelsea leaned in to whisper. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I’m going to play this straight but if you need me to stop or back off, say ‘yuck’ and I’ll ease up. Whatever you want. Anything other than ‘yuck’, we keep playing. And I play hard.”

Maddie lifted her head and Chelsea lowered hers, expecting a whispered response. What she got instead was a warm chill as Maddie nibbled her earlobe then gently licked, then kissed, the warm salty spot just behind her ear. Any glistening saliva that Maddie left there was more than met by the slickery wetness that leaked just then between Chelsea’s legs.

“Shall I bend over the desk, Ma’am?” Maddie asked mischievously.

Just before saying “Yes”, Chelsea reached out and took Maddie by the ear. “You come with me young miss. I have something special in mind for you.”

“Owww! Owww…Yes, Ma’am!” she said hopping to catch up as she was pulled out of the room.

(Continuing…)

Balzac

Flew to Paris years ago on business. I was saddled with a mid-level manager who was as loose as uncooked pasta so I had to entertain myself. Because it was those times, I snorted coke crouching in the lav then couldn’t sleep the whole way across the Atlantic; drank too much in the darkened plane till I got tired of it then dropped a Quaalude. The times, as I said.

By the time we landed the drugs had cancelled each other and I was straight, but wine drunk and it was midmorning. He wanted to go to the hotel to “freshen up” whatever that meant, but it was my first trip to Paris so I commandeered the cab and barked “Pere Lachaise!” Where? he asked. Cemetery, I said. We’re in Paris and we’re going to a cemetery? Who’s buried there? Balzac, I told him. Balzac. Turned out to be true but what did I know? Just said it. Didn’t want to tell him we were going to Jim Morrison’s grave.

The jig was up when we got out of the cab and picked up a map from an old woman on a folding chair and started following the makeshift signage. As we got closer, the graffiti thickened, the litter deepened and just as we reached the small circle of pilgrims passing a joint, which I grabbed at, the sun hit me like an ax and the night of red wine split my skull. Somewhere there is a picture of me talking to a pack of German girls one of whom had some English. None of them thought Morrison was buried there. That he was dead at all. I had no problem with him being dead-that it could happen. That’s what people did: some sooner some later. I never thought he wasn’t buried there.

Until the morning, years later, when I saw him working in a bait shop in North East, PA where we had gone salmon fishing. We were almost sick at the time, having drunk all night and barely sober in the cool autumn morning. Aside from the fishing and wine, North East was known for fresh donuts made in a bakery with huge foggy widows on the main drag. People lined the street for them. That was back then-not now. Now it’s all Horton’s and Dunkin and that shit.

So the first thing we did was split two dozen fresh, gooey hot glazed donuts and sweet steaming coffee from Styrofoam cups. Then went to the bait shop near the creek where Jim Morrison sold us salmon eggs and hooks. It was surreal. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I even called him “Jim” and he looked at me like I was nuts. It wasn’t till later, on the stream, that I realized the guy didn’t look like Morrison at all, but like a fat Val Kilmer. I had them confused from the movie.  Fucking embarrassment. Coulda been worse. Coulda thought he was Doc Holliday.

Caught three nice steelhead that morning, on the eggs I bought and only puked once behind a tree. Kicked leaves over it. Turned out to be a good day overall.

Nurse Kimani

(Continued from The Party )

Having made their entrance into the full glow of the fire and been viewed and admired, he released them from their collars and lay the staffs aside. Someone else would surely find a use for them before the evening was out.

“I’m going to find Duke”, he told them. “Go mingle.” Then, to Gennie, “Have fun”, with a light smack on her rump as he passed toward the house.

They wandered past the still smoking hulk of the motorcycle. “I can’t believe you did that…” she whispered into Chelsea’s ear. “Collateral damage”, the blond winked back. “A bonus. Very cool though.” The girls each grabbed a glass of wine from an angel with a black halo of wires circling her head. The woman’s hair was shaved tight on the sides with a floppy blue mohawk falling to the left. “You sure you’re an angel?” flirted Chelsea eyeing the woman’s ink-a blue web that crawled up her neck. “The devil began life as an angel, love”, she answered coolly. Chelsea, fully on the prowl, raised her glass in salute and allowed Gennie to pull her away.

They walked slowly past the toy table and Gennie slipped to the other side of Chelsea as if being too close to a paddle or crop might give someone ideas.  But it was hard to imagine people hear didn’t have the ideas already. Just over there-leaning against the mantle that she’d help deliver was the bare bottomed kitten that had met them when they arrived. The tail was gone but she was happily displaying two bright red welts running across her white cheeks. When had that happened? Where had that happened? Just seeing the marked bottom set Gennie’s stomach roiling.

Hors d’oeuvres that the villains had scattered to paddle Beth had been replaced. Chelsea went for the bacon-wrapped dates. “Famished! Waging war stokes a girl’s appetite.” Her eyes aflame, Chelsea scanned the scene looking for likely singles, doubles, whatever. As Gennie’s doors tightened at the prospect of public play, Chelsea’s opened like flood gates.  “Let’s go inside”, she said popping the last date whole into her mouth.

They moved through the foyer and into a high-ceilinged hub of a hall that spoked to a number of rooms, some dimly lighted by candles and a fire’s glow, a couple brighter with lamps and hanging bulbs. There seemed to be at least as many people inside as there were out.

“Where’d they all come from?” Gennie wondered.

“Party people gonna party”, Chelsea answered moving forward.

Gennie froze at the sound of a swat; the unmistakable song of wood on bare skin accompanied by an “owwww” and laughter. “Not that way!” she said pulling at Chelsea’s arm away from the sound. “Okay…” said Chelsea allowing herself to be led away. “But we’ve got some work to do with you girl.”

They slipped into a sitting room and were drawn to a small group standing around a couch. The circle opened for them as they pressed inward and Gennie caught the eye of a sandy haired boy-well, not really a boy, probably Gennie’s age-but impossibly cute in a slight blondish way. She couldn’t tell how tall he might be as he was currently lying across the lap of a statuesque beauty, the color of burnished mahogany in a blue nurse’s outfit. The boy’s pants were down to his thighs and a thermometer, a tad large for the task at hand, protruded from is tight upturned bottom. Why had she punked on being a nurse?

He smiled at her and the edge of his mouth twitched only the slightest when the nurse extracted the thermometer. Gennie noticed that his bottom was brushed the sweetest hue of pink. The nurse, with the name tag “Kimani” sewn onto her lush breast, went through the motions of reading the instrument. “You’re fine, Tommy”, she said patting his butt. “Just fine. See all that ruckus for nothing.” Her voice was strong and melodious with a hint of the islands tinkling just below the surface.

Kimani followed the tilt of his head and locked eyes with Gennie. “Well, hello there my green-eyed sister.” It was true, the nurse had green eyes, but not as bright as Gennie’s; more the muted, smoky color of martini olives. “I don’t know”, she said clinically, “You being a zombie and all, might be beyond my help. But maybe a little medical workup would serve you well.” She dropped the thermometer she had used into a bag at her feet and extracted a new one from her pocket.

Heat rose in Gennie’s cheeks and she gulped audibly, eliciting giggles from those close enough to hear.  “You’re scaring the girl Kimmie.” Gennie leaned away meaning to bolt, but Chelsea was at her back solid as a fence post blocking a simple escape. Gennie looked pleading into her eyes, “Please Chel…” she whispered. Chelsea held her there just long enough before smiling and stepping out of her way. “Maybe later, Nurse Kim”, she said. “We have to get some alcohol in her first.”

As Gennie slipped past, Chelsea grabbed her bottom gently and squeezed. “The longer you wait”, she whispered in her ear, “The worse it’s going to seem…” But as she walked away she felt something more than the nerves and gut-churning fear of being exposed to strangers. She would deny it out loud but there was something in the naughtiness of this whole evening that was beginning to buzz, so far quietly, inside her. She wished Chelsea would have kept her hand on her bottom.

(Continuing…)