Filthy Fucks

Don't remember if this is posted. Oh, well. Have it again, if it is.
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Good things never last. It's too true. And while our band was playing shows twice a week, there was hell at the house. I came home one night with my last paycheck from the grocery store and knew that I had to find some way to get a new job to buy the kegs. When I told Ian and the boys that I'd lost my job and was having trouble finding a new one, they told me not to worry about it. We weren't getting paid much for gigs and the boys didn't all work - how could I not worry?
"How will I make up for it?" I asked Keith. He looked at me strangely and pulled me against his razor sharp hips.
"There's a way, Floie." he said softly and pulled my face to his to kiss me roughly. So, that was it. The boys found a way for me to make up for lack of rent and passed me back and forth whenever they needed me. Everyone but Ian knew what was going on.

One night, right before our last show together, Mikey pulled me backstage and told me to be quiet. He pressed me against a wall and slid his hand up my skirt, which led me to bite my lip and grimace. I was nothing more than a cheap fuck to these boys and I should have known that from the start.
"Shh," Mikey coaxed, slipping his fingers inside of me, "you be quiet for me, Floie."
I closed my eyes, but didn't struggle. Then, Ian's voice broke the silence.
"What the fuck is going on?" He shouted, forcing Mikey to back away.
"She ain't paying rent, Ian."
I looked into Ian's eyes, shattering, and saw the same look in them.
"Go and get ready, Mikey. We're on in ten," he instructed, sending Mikey away. I turned my face from him and started to go, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"After all I fucking did for you, fucking slag! No fucking respect for anyone. Not even yourself."
"Ian, please, I - "
"Shut up, shut up. Just shut the fuck up! I gave you everything, and you tossed it into the rubbish."
"I'm sorry," I whimpered as he stormed away.

We played the worst show ever that night, and then Ian fucked me in the toilet.
"Did Keith fuck you this hard? Did Mikey like the feel of your mouth on his cock? Did he?" he snarled something along those lines, smacking my head against the wall as tears rolled down my face.
"Stupid cunt." he sneered and spat on me before leaving me ruined on the dirty linoleum. I sat up and grabbed some tissue to wipe the spunk off of my inner thighs, fixed myself, and walked out. The boys had already left and the next band was on: a five-piece called The Filthy Sckuf.

The lead-singer had the most obnoxious voice I have ever heard, and the band could barely play, but their presence amazed me. Convincing myself that I'd have a place to sleep that night, I ordered a pint and watched them play and almost got spit on by the bassist. When they finished, I had both a feeling of relief and a rush of uneasiness. The snide singer burped loudly and came over to the bar.
"'Ey, man, get me a pint, then." he sneered, spitting across the room. I cringed and turned away from him as he started coughing horrendously and the bar keep passed him a pint.

"How come he didn't have to pay?" I demanded, appalled.
"Cos he's a performer."
"So what? That's not fair. I played here, too."
The snide singer downed his pint and looked at me.
"Oh, fuck off. Your music's shit anyway." As he said this, my jaw dropped to the floor and I threw the rest of my pint in his face.
"Fuck you, it's all I've got! You can't even sing!"
He growled at me and pushed me, then spat on me.
"And you sing too pretty. You're a fucking fraud."

I jolted from the floor and pushed him against a wall.
"Don't you call me a fraud." I told him in an icy tone. His deep blue eyes raged with fury.
"I don't hit birds, dearie, but you're fuckin' pushin' it."
I sneered and slapped him.
"You don't have any idea what I've already been through tonight."
"Baby, you don't know what I've been through in my life." He shot back.

The bassist came over cheering, with a forty ounce beer in his hands.
"Hey, John! You gonna have it off with her, then?" He laughed and sipped his beer.
"Close yer gob, Alfie, for fuck's sake." he snapped, but Alfie didn't lose his smile.
"Right, right! Hey, Dave, Charlie, Jimbo!" He called to the other members of the band before joining them, despite the fact that they were too busy with a group of girls to notice him.

I looked back at John,
"You gonna let me go, or you gonna keep me pinned to this wall all night and waste my time?" he snarled and I raised a brow.
"What's the matter with you? You don't like being pinned to a wall by a girl? Are you too much of a pussy to push me off?"
John glared at me and pushed me hard then brushed past me.
"Cunt." he grumbled under his breath as he lumbered off towards the rest of the band, but I followed him.
"Piss off!" he shouted, "what do you care if I got a pint for free? Christ, you're blowing everything out of proportion!"
"You called me a fraud." I glowered.
"You are," he began, "but we all are in our own way. 'Cept me. I'm realer than real."
"I think you're just a cocky bastard." I retorted, coldly, sending him a mean sneer. He raised his fist, and as he was about to hit me, Alfie grabbed him arm.
"Come on, John. Stop actin' about! Buy the bird a drink."
John looked at him as though he'd lost it.
"Yeah, man! Save the abuse for a bunk-up!" Charlie, the curly blonde drummer, called before clinking his glass against the two guitarists' and downing his pint.
"I wouldn't shag this bird." John grumbled and spat on the floor in my direction.
"Oh, bollocks!" Alfie exclaimed, incredulous, "you'd hop into her knickers in a flash!"

John shook his head and started swearing to himself.
"I'm fucking out of here. I'll see you tomorrow, mates," he looked at me, "hope I never see you again." He snarled and gave me the look of death.
"You lie, John. But don't worry; I'll be at every gig you play from now on." I kissed him hard on the lips and the band cheered. When I pulled away, I noticed just how red his had become, and smirked to myself, then patted his cheek.
"Goodnight." I cooed before putting on my blazer and walking out of the club.

I left in a haughty manner, overly proud of myself for creating such a scene, but the magic didn't last. I took no more than five steps when I saw Keith approaching me with a duffle of my things.
"What's going on?" I panicked.
"Ian wants you gone. Don't come back no more, Floie."
"But, why?"
Keith threw the duffle at me.
"He don't like sharin'," be began, "wanted you for himself."
"What?"
"He wanted you for himself. He repeated and spat on my shoes before walking away.

I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the news sink in. I was homeless, now. I had no money, no job, no food, no home. No one would even give a damn about that. Defeated, I sank onto the sidewalk, pressing my back against the brick, and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. I heard loud, garbled voices coming from the club, and soon, The Filthy Sckuf emerged, singing in a drunken stupor. They didn't even see me. I noticed that John was not with them, and too soon after that observation, I heard that awful cough and spit routine. He walked out of the club and spat on the sidewalk then started to walk in my direction, so I buried my head in my knees.

"What you doing down there, then?" he asked, "don't you want to go home to your boys and have a bunk-up?"
I bit my lip.
"I can't go home, and, unfortunately, I've had to fuck them for the past four months cos I couldn't get a job for rent." I said softly and looked up at him.
"You're joking," he stated, incredulous and slightly appalled.
"No, I'm not." I replied and got up then picked up my duffle, "I don't have a clue where I'm going now, but I've got to go find somewhere to go."
I began to walk away, but he called,
"Hey! Wait!" and I turned around as he rushed over to me, "you want to come to my gaff tonight? It's not much, but it's better than a gutter - well, maybe not, but, it's a place to sleep."
"You're really unpredictable, John." I told him, shaking my head, "Christ, I thought you hated me."
"No, I don't hate," he started, "I just make people think I do so they fuck off." He smiled queerly at me.
"Would you really give me a place to stay for a little while?" I questioned.
"Yeah, sure. I think I can stand you for an hour or two."
I sneered and hit him playfully.

"Come on, get the fuck, the train stops runnin' in twenty minutes." He grabbed my wrist and tugged me down the street towards the station.
"But I don't have any money." I told him.
"Christ, you've been in England for over a year and you don't know how the subway works? Watch and learn, girly." He looked quickly around the station then bolted under the turnstile, taking me with him.
"Ouch." I whimpered and rubbed my head.
"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Come on."
We rushed down to the terminal and hopped onto the train seconds before the doors shut.
"Christ, what a rush." John stated, attempting to catch his breath, "What the fuck is your name, by the way?"
"I'm Flora." I responded and he shook his head.
"Fucking Americans."

When we got to his building, I could not believe how filthy his apartment was, and how little like a home it looked. He had no real furniture other than a few ratty cushions, a television, and a tipsy cardboard box with a few half-filled bottles of booze and an ashtray.
"Ah, home," he proudly said, "you'll meet the flatmates soon enough." he informed me.
"Who else lives here?" I asked causing John to grin.
"Oh, you know, the roaches, the rats, some mice. They don't hurt you if you don't hurt them."
I cringed discreetly at his words and simply nodded.

John stretched out on the cushions and lit a cigarette, but I stood still and looked around, nervously, for the flatmates.
"Mind if I shower?" I inquired. He shrugged.
"Do what you want. Just don't leave any girly products lying about." He responded and turned on the TV.

I wanted to wash all of my skin off, just peel away the layers until I was just bone. I don't know how long I was in there, but I turned into a lobster. I just stood there and let the water hit me, just staring at the grimy tile wall. John came into the toilet and yelled,
"Hey, Flora! You've been in there for twenty minutes! Come on, then!"
But I made no response. I sank to the bottom of the tub and let the tears run down my face, washed away by the water, over and over, but they didn't stop flowing.
John called again and when I made no response, he pulled the shower curtain and saw me there, sitting down, curled up, and crying.

Something changed in his face at that moment, for he, too, looked as sore as I was. He turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, then he helped me out of the shower.
"Don't let those cunts ruin your life, Flora. Don't let the bastards win." He urged. My head fell against his shoulder and I wrapped my arms around him, but he did not respond to me. He slowly patted me on the back and left me to dress.

A month or so went by, and I told John I was going to find another place to go since I felt I had outworn my welcome. As I opened the door and took one step out, he stopped me.
"Don't go."
I turned to look at him, but before I could say anything, he pulled me inside, slammed the door, and stared at me. "You're staying." he declared, eyes firmly fixed on mine. I went to speak, but he pulled me into his arms and kissed me fervently, honestly, and I returned the kiss in the same manner. A spark had grown into a fire between us.

I didn't leave that day, or the next, or the next. I didn't want to; because even though Johnny and I had nothing more than each other, it was all we needed. And all I'd ever wanted.

Et Tu, Brian? pt 4 (Rebirth)

I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's kind of not that good in my mind, so, obviously, there will be future edits. Kindly read and respond. Your feedback is crucial to me. Many thanks.

I somewhat want to rip this chapter to pieces because it's not very impressive. Oh, well.

PS: This one is sequential to the last posted segment. Thanks.
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My mother left for work on Friday night, informing me of her departure as I lay half asleep on her sofa, listlessly watching CNN.

“There’s baked ziti in the fridge if you get hungry,” she said, “and please be sure to take the dog out before you get too sleepy. I’ll be home in the morning.”

I nodded, sluggishly, letting my eyes flutter shut as she closed the door and locked it behind her. I groaned and rolled over on the sofa, pulling a blanket over the top of my head. I drifted off to sleep without hesitation, completely disregarding her request. It seemed that, only shortly after doing so, I found myself snatched from my world of wonders and hurled back into reality. My phone would not cease to ring. I rolled over and picked it up, without first reviewing who so desperately sought my attention.

“Yeah?” I growled.

“Brian? Were you sleeping? It’s me.”

I moved the phone away from my mouth and grumbled to myself,

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered before replying to her, “yeah, I was asleep. What’s going on?”

“You never called. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for two days.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you want me to let you sleep?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, will you please call me when you get up? Please?”

“Yeah, I’ll call.”

“It’s just, you know, it’s Friday night and I was hoping we could get together.”

“I’ll call you in a little bit,” I said, groggily, doing whatever I could to get her to leave me in peace.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” she said, much too cheerfully.

I hung up and turned my phone off, giving my best attempt to fall back into sleep’s sweet embrace. An hour later, after failing to do so, I rose from my nest on the couch to attend to the dog. I let her run wild and free by the waterside, allowing her to do her business in peace as my mind wandered. I reached into my pocket, in search of my cell phone, and turned it back on, curiously. I had anticipated a slew of voicemail notifications, missed calls, and text messages, but surprisingly, found none. I raised a brow, perplexed, and ushered the dog back inside of the apartment building. I flopped down on the couch once I’d made my way inside and allowed my eyes to glaze over as I stared, blankly, at the television screen before me. My eyes fluttered, once again, and I settled into my resting place on the sofa.

I mused on calling Calpurnia and convincing her to come over, but something about loafing around seemed far more appealing than her aggravating and sickeningly affectionate company. I curled beneath the blanket and debated sleeping or feeling her warm skin next to mine. Within the next restless hour, and against my better judgment, I placed the call, requesting her to join me in my nest. Promptly and ever-willingly, she agreed to arrive within thirty minutes. I sighed and buried myself below the blanket, wondering what I was doing and why I seemed so drawn to her now, all of a sudden.

I fell into a dreamless sleep shortly thereafter, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. In truth, I’m not sure which I’d have preferred less, not dreaming in sleep, or being with her. She rang the bell, forcing me to rise again from my haven. I went to answer the door, hair matted and clothing wrinkled. There she stood, crisply dressed and fresh faced, still glowing, still gorgeous, still spiting me without her knowledge of it.

“Hey,” I said, lethargically, before producing a tremendous yawn. I opened the door, wider, granting her permission to enter. She smiled much too sweetly, batting her eyelids with attempted girlish charm that only made me even more livid. I closed the door behind her and watched her as she walked around the apartment.

“It’s been so long since I was here,” she said, as though a child visiting Disney World for the first time. I flopped back down on the couch and shook my head,

“Nothing’s changed,” I said. She looked at me and smiled again,

“I missed it.”

I snorted,

“God, whatever for? I can’t even stand being here.”

She sat down beside me on the sofa and sighed softly,

“How’s your mom?” she asked.

“Working. Can we not talk about her, please?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” she said, quietly, abashed.

“It’s fine, I just, I don’t feel like bringing her up. You know?”

She nodded like a simpleton, crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap.

“So, what do you wanna do?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. We could watch a movie or something, I guess,” I said, defeated, bored, and incapable of upholding my callousness.

“Okay,” she said, smiling in that same nerve-wracking manner of hers.

I grabbed the remote and flipped through the available options, choosing what I felt to be the least insipid and mind-numbing. She wouldn’t have cared what I’d chosen, anyway. The girl could have been pleased as pie sitting in a dirt road with me, for crying out loud. I’d never witnessed anything as sad as how spineless she was. I leaned back on the sofa to relax and watch the film. She continued to sit straight up, still posed in her proper position. I sighed and touched her arm, causing her to look back at me with her wide blue eyes.

“Lay down,” I insisted. Slowly, she leaned back onto me and I awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head upon my chest as we watched the film. Some moments later, she lifted it and looked at me.

“You heart is beating so fast,” she said, “are you all right?”

“It happens,” I said, urging her to shut up.

She laid her head back down and kept quiet. It almost felt normal, laying with her, cuddling, stroking her back as she listened to my rapid heartbeat, our eyes firmly fixed on the television screen. For a short time, I seemed almost content with the situation, but I knew that that feeling couldn’t last. Near the end of the film, I began to grow increasingly uncomfortable as a slight wave of panic washed over me. I tapped her on the arm several times and she looked at me, startled and confused.

“My arm’s getting numb,” I lied.

“Do you want to lay on me?” she asked. Too tired to argue the idea, I nodded and we switched positions. I rested my head on her chest and listened to her heart beating as she stroked my hair. I closed my eyes and drifted away, too relaxed and comfortable to deny.

“Brian? Brian? Are you asleep?”

She shook my gently, waking me. I sat up, instantly, and moved off of her.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” she said. I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She frowned and rubbed my arm before I got off of the sofa to get a drink. Like a lost puppy, she followed me into the kitchen.

“Do you want a root beer?” I asked, “One week out of the year, I seem to go through a phase of it.”

I poured myself a glass and turned to her.

“Sure,” she said.

I got out another glass and poured her some. We drank in silence standing in the kitchen, eyes averted from one another. I opened the fridge and peered inside, taking note of the baked ziti my mother had mentioned prior to her departure. I sneered and picked up a package of chuck roast I’d picked up at the grocery store earlier that day. Calpurnia looked at me, perplexed, as I examined it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, I was going to cook this earlier, but I fell asleep,” I said, “want some?”

“No, that’s okay,” she replied.

I wrinkled my nose, shrugged, and threw the package back into the fridge before slamming the door shut. I placed my empty glass in the sink and walked back to the sofa.

“Just leave it in there,” I said, before she’d even had a chance to inquire.

I heard her place her glass beside mine before padding across the carpet to join me again. I picked up the remote and flipped channels, ultimately ending where I’d started earlier that evening. She sat down beside me and watched, silently and attentively. I looked over at her and examined her features to great and excessive detail, making note of every blemish in her skin and every red crack in seemingly flawless blue eyes. Somehow, regardless of her imperfections, I felt profoundly drawn to her. I leaned closer to her, causing her to turn and face me.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

I found myself staring at her lips, sensing my own beginning to quake and tremble, aching for a taste of them. I leaned in and pressed my mouth to hers without any inhibition. She reciprocated with such an exquisite fervor that I simply could not control myself. My entire body quivered with lust and with nervousness and with delight. I pulled her onto my lap and she entangled her legs around my midsection, our lips still locked together. I allowed my hands to roam the contours of her slim, shapely frame as she ran her fingers through my hair. I could feel myself growing increasingly aroused as our foreplay continued. I pulled away from her and moved her off of me, laying her down onto the carpet below us. I lay down on top of her and continued to kiss her, furiously. She wouldn’t get a say in what I was determined to do next. I wanted her – no, I needed her, and I’d stop at nothing to have her. I unbuttoned my shirt, leaving it on, but wide open. She slid her tiny hands across my chest, raking her nails against my skin. I inhaled sharply and leaned down to kiss her again. Unfortunately, I’d been beaten to her mouth.

She started giggling, nervously, and I pulled back to find that the dog had come over and started slobbering on her face. I sighed, having lost my capacity to seduce her, and pulled away.

“Come on,” I snapped at the dog.

Calpurnia laughed and rolled around on the carpet, pushing the dog’s wet nose and tongue out of her face, playfully. I rose from the floor and grabbed one of the dog’s toys, throwing it across the room so she’d chase after it and let the girl loose. Calpurnia sat up and wiped off her face.

“Ugh! So sloppy,” she said, still giggling slightly. I took my place back on the sofa and folded my arms, scowling. She slinked across my lap and reached for me, but I moved from her grasp.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, the glee dissipating from her face.

“Nothing,” I said, stoic and cold.

She sighed and regained her proper and posed position, legs crossed, hands folded. The two of us stared blankly at the blinding box in front of us, not sharing a single word.

She began fidgeting with her thumbs and playing with her hair, and tapping her foot rapidly and repeatedly out of boredom. I looked down and watched her moving it up and down, faster, faster, faster.

“Could you stop that?” I asked.

She froze and turned to me.

“Stop what, Brian?”

“That foot. You’re, you’re tapping.”

“Oh, yes.”

She ceased at my request, but I could perceive the intense boredom in her eyes. She leaned back on the couch, stretching and arching her back. I gawked at her curved, slight frame as she did so, almost capable of counting each of her ribs one by one. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

“Did you want to go out at all or anything?” she asked. I shook my head.

“I’m hermitting tonight,” I replied. She smirked and shook her head.

“That’s a classic,” she remarked.

“What?”

“You, being a hermit. Don’t you want to go out and live life, Brian? I mean, what’s so great about sitting inside in front of the TV all night? It’s all you ever do. There’s a whole world waiting out there.”

I made no response, simply stared at her briefly before yawning and reclining back on the sofa. I closed my eyes and rested my head on her shoulder. She sighed heavily and massaged my scalp. I opened my eyes, groaning with pleasure and stretched myself across her lap. I gazed up at her as she continued to run her fingers through my hair. She possessed a kind of glow in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place, something warm and fervent and true reflecting my dead gray eyes. I reached a finger up and ran it across her lower lip, tracing its shape. Slowly, I ran my fingers along her jaw line and up around her cheek, resting them gently at the nape of her neck. With her free hand, she stroked mine, keeping her bright eyes locked onto my dull ones.

A violent wave of anxiety coursed through my being. I felt as though I’d burst into a panic attack within the next few seconds as a myriad of feeling took hold of me. What was this foreign and unnatural sentiment she had aroused in me? She laid her hand delicately across my forehead, caressing it momentarily, and then rested her hand upon my cheek. My entire body grew warm and placid. I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to take me. I don’t know how long I lay there, entwined in her arms, strewn across her lap, but as much as I’d never willingly admit to it, it felt divine.

I woke some time later and found her still beneath me, her pleasant eyes closed, and clearly entranced in her very own world of wonders. My cheeks began to burn as I allowed a smile to take hold of my face. I looked at the clock and realized that my mother would be on her way home from work shortly. I poked and prodded Calpurnia, stirring her from her slumber, as she’d so often done to me.

“Hey,” I said as her eyes fluttered open, now cracked and red from fatigue, “come on, you should get up.”

She produced a sleepy and disheartened grunt as she slid out from underneath me.

“I’m so tired, Brian,” she said.

“Yeah, I know, so, come on.”

She yawned and stretched, half-heartedly.

“Into your room?”

“No. No. You should go home.”

“I don’t think I can drive that far right now.”

“Well, just,” I paused, frustrated, and bit my lip, fighting the anger and the panic welling within me, “you have to go.”

She groaned and slumped back down on the sofa, closing her eyes again.

“No, get up. I mean, really, you have to go,” I said, grabbing a hold of her arm and shaking it vigorously.

“Stop,” she whined, still unmoved.

A vicious rush of panic spread through me, and it seemed as though a thick layer of ice had developed on the skin of my back. My pulse raced so high and so hard that I could hear every booming beat of my heart and feel the very organ jumping into my throat. I started to lose my breath, and the hyperventilation commenced. I sank to the floor and writhed, hugging my knees to my chest, begging the brutal ride to stop.

Calpurnia rose from her sleeping place and rushed to my aid.

“Brian! Brian! Come back to me. Come back. Look at me. Come back to me.”

She wrapped her arms around me, but I flung her off faster than I’d imagined possible.

“You make it worse,” I managed to spit out through heavy breaths, “you are the problem. Get out. Get the fuck out!”

With all of my strength, I lifted my quaking hand and pointed, with a trembling finger, to the door. She looked at me as though I were a wounded puppy.

“You aren’t well,” she insisted, “let me help you.”

“I don’t need help. You need to go.”

She reached for me and I squirmed away from her grasp.

“I’m serious,” I warned, the anger brimming from inside of me.

“Just let me put you to bed, then I’ll go.”

“I don’t need you to put me to bed. Just get out.”

She didn’t stop. She advanced on me, reaching out with her tiny, malformed hands to latch onto me in some way, in any way that she could. I couldn’t win. The panic had conquered, and all of the rationality and logic I once possessed had faded entirely. I succumbed to her aid and allowed her to assist me into my bedroom. She turned to go, but I seized her from behind and bit her hard on the neck, running my hands over her. The panic began to dissipate, but awkwardness still lingered inside of me. She shrieked and collapsed against me, melting like putty beneath my fingers. I kissed her neck violently, almost animalistic in fashion, no inhibition, no fear of hurting her, no remorse. She wailed and sank to her knees, slipping away from me. I went after her on the floor to pull her close again, to take her, but I heard the front door unlock and creak open. I froze in the middle of my stance, listening. Calpurnia opened her wide eyes and did the same.

“Brian, what’s—”

I slapped my hand across her mouth to silence her, shooting her a cautionary glance. I heard my mother drop her keys on the table by the door and pad across the carpet into the kitchen. She turned on the water for a moment, and then turned it off, again. I heard her pad further away and close her bedroom door. I waited several minutes after she’d done so before releasing my hand from Calpurnia’s mouth. I wiped it against my pants as she shook her head.

“We’re adults, you know,” she remarked.

“Thanks, I don’t think I was aware,” I snapped, “do you really want my mother to walk in to hear us fucking?”

“We weren’t, and judging by the looks of things, we wouldn’t probably have been. Your meds, Brian.”

I scoffed and opened the drawer beside my bed to procure several bottles and numerous pills from each. She handed me a bottle of water from the stack I had sitting in the corner of my room by the window.

“Here,” she said, as I took it from her, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, my God, you’re not my mother,” I snarled.

“Yeah, and thank God for that,” she shot back.

Admittedly, I found myself thoroughly impressed with her emerging backbone. I swallowed the pills, one, two, three, then downed the rest of the sizeable handful in a fourth and final swig. I put the bottle down on my nightstand and sighed, looking out the window.

“It’s snowing,” I said, opening the blinds a bit more to watch the heavy flakes fall.

Calpurnia crawled across the floor behind me and poked her head over my shoulder to take a look for herself.


“Wow, it’s really coming down,” she said, eyes widened and gazing at the sea of white just outside of us.

I sighed once more and stretched out on the carpet, closing my eyes, exhausted. I reached out for her and felt her warm, soft skin against my fingertips. I opened my eyes and gazed at her. She sat there watching the snow, entranced by it, as though she’d never seen it before. I examined her doing so, finding some kind of simple wonder in how she could appreciate the most intricate and minute details of life that most would take for granted. I stroked her forearm, breaking her gaze on the world outside and forcing her to return to the one she shared only with me. I coaxed her to lay down with me and wrapped an arm around her as she rested herself upon my chest. I stroked her hair and closed my eyes.

“Perhaps you and I really aren’t so unlike,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, but I hushed her.

“Sleep,” I insisted.

She fell silent and, soon, we fell into Morpheus’s sweet embrace. The snow fell silently outside, enveloping the world and purity and life anew. And though I lay in slumber, something new and unfamiliar inside of me had awakened.

Et Tu, Brian? (A Streetcar Named Desire)

DISCLAIMER: What you're about to read contains explicit and vulgar adult themes. It may be offensive. If you are opposed to this type of material, please don't bother reading any further than this paragraph. Thanks.

PS: This scene is obviously not sequential to the last two installments I've posted.

PPS: If there are errors, I apologize. I'll fix them when I can. I had to rush the transcription, yet again, because of internet challenges. Thanks for understanding. Enjoy.

Et Tu, Brian? - "A Streetcar Named Desire"
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As the leaves tumbled down, leaving the trees naked in the cold, I felt something warm stir within me. I had driven through several states that day, making my way back to the homeland for the holidays. In truth, I’d have much preferred my solitude back in Greensboro, but in order to stop my family from incessantly harassing me, I packed my things and headed north. I made my way into town late on a Wednesday evening, and it seemed that, for once, everyone had gone missing from it. I’d be the last to complain, were that so, but I knew it sadly wasn’t.

While I sat at a stop light, I rolled down the window of my car, allowing my breath to dance just outside the glass. I listened for a sound of life, but could hear none. The light changed and I continued my journey along the twisted, tree-lined roads. I took a detour behind the old mill just to see if the abandoned streetcars still remained dead on their tracks. To my genuine surprise and, dare I say it, delight, I found them there, still perfectly intact upon their rickety tracks and covered in holiday lights. I pulled over on the road beside them and got out of my car. As I crossed the gravel to them, I made certain that I was alone.

I shivered in the dark, but could clearly see the heat from my breath hanging in the air. I walked up to one of the streetcars and fiddled with the door. Open! Cautiously, I took one last look around me and hopped up inside of it. I could smell the years of stagnation from its dank walls and musky seats. I sat for a moment and closed my eyes to take it all in, imagining what it would have truly been like to be in the very seat in which I sat in 1938. Doing so sent me to an exceedingly evocative place. I could smell the oppression, the laundresses chattering next to me, the salesman worrying over his case holding more inventory than profit, the woman singing to the baby in her arms. I opened my eyes, transported back to modern day, sitting inside an abandoned streetcar alone, in the cold and dark.

I dug into my pocket to procure my cell phone and ran through the list of numbers until I found what I desperately sought. For once, it would be my turn to call upon her. For months, I had ignored her existence, fought off phone calls and emails with bitterness and silence, but tonight, I needed her. I sighed, swallowed my pride, and dialed. The bloodcurdling sound of the ringing nearly sent my nerves shooting through the roof of the car. My pulse climbed and my heart soared into my throat. I swiftly pulled the phone from my ear and went to hang it up when I heard her voice on the other end.

“Hello? Hello? Brian? Brian, are you there?”

I bit my lip, cursing myself, and lifted the phone back to my ear.

“Hey,” was all I could manage the strength to say. She laughed in her nervous way,

“Oh, my gosh! I’ve been trying to get through to you for months. What’s going on?”

I said nothing for a moment, examining my surroundings once again.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Just at home with the cat. Why?”

“Do you know where the old streetcars are? You know, behind the old mill?”

“Yes, why?”

“Come here as soon as you can.”

“Are you there? What’s going on? I—”

“Don’t ask any more questions. Just get down here.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone and draped myself over one of the benches in the car. I closed my eyes and begged for sleep to take me, knowing full well that I had just buried myself alive by allowing her to infringe upon my solitude. Just when I thought that, perhaps, I might have dozed off, I heard a car scraping through the gravel outside. My eyes sprung open and I felt my pulse racing again. The heat within me flourished and continued to do so with every move I heard from outside of the streetcar. I peered out through the smudged glass window and saw her standing there, confused and lost. She looked much different than I could remember, yet I couldn’t interpret what, exactly, had changed about her.

I watched her walk about in the gravel, looking through the windows in the various other cars on the lot. I ogled her long, well-shaped legs, obviously bare, and the suggestive black stilettos on her dainty little feet. She had, undoubtedly, grown into something fine and exceptionally aesthetically pleasing. She sighed with disappointment and crossed over to the car in which I lay resting. I heard the door rattle and pop open, followed by her head of blonde hair and large, frightened blue eyes seeking out my presence. She looked around the car and bit her voluptuous, red lower lip. I stood to make myself known and she jumped, startled.

“Jesus, Brian, you scared me.”

I walked over to her, locking her bright blue eyes on my icy gray ones. Slowly, I bent down and wrapped my arms around her, a truly foreign concept to me. She stood catatonic for a moment before flinging hers around my neck.

“You look amazing,” she said, “but you know I’ve always thought so.”

I smiled, half-heartedly, and nodded.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her jaw seemed to drop the instant I uttered those words. I focused on her quivering ruby red lips and breathed her scent into my nostrils. Nothing else mattered that night. She was utterly intoxicating and I had to have her, I needed her. She looked up at me with her wide blue eyes and parted her lips to speak,

“Why did you call me to come out here?” she asked.

I looked her over again, hungrily, and still uncertain what had changed about her that had made my entire body ache for her.

“Because,” was all I could muster. She raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip,

“Because?”

Another brief moment of silence passed between us before I grabbed her and pulled her tightly against me. I heard her struggle for breath in alarm as I bit down on her neck with fervor, forcing her to feel the heat and lust and desire I so desperately needed to bestow upon her. She whimpered and collapsed in my arms like a limp noodle as my lips met hers. I pushed her down onto one of the benches and cracked open her soft, smooth legs.

“Brian, I don’t think—”

I shut her mouth up by filling it with mine, and she took the hint ever willingly. My cold hands traced up her supple skin, causing her thighs to tremble slightly. I hadn’t the capacity to contain myself and continued to kiss her. The shape of her lips meshed so impeccably with mine, so much so that I found myself even more aroused at the mere thought of how well designed she’d become. I slid my hand up further, breaking my way through her cotton barrier and felt something even warmer and softer than her thighs.

Calpurnia shrieked and jolted from the bench, but I pinned her down with my free arm, pressing my elbow against her to keep her right where I wanted her. She squirmed as I allowed my fingers to explore her, proceeding to lock her legs around me, providing me full access to what I craved. I laid my head down upon her chest and listened to her heart beat. It fascinated me to monitor the physical changes that her body produced during increased arousal. She ran her fingers through my lustrous black hair as her breathing grew rapid and shallow.

“Brian,” she whispered, hoarsely, “shouldn’t we take this somewhere else? I only live five minutes—”

I covered her mouth with my hand as I plunged my fingers deeper inside of her. I watched her eyes roll back into her head as she nearly screamed with pleasure. I felt her tiny hands working across my midsection, struggling to undo my belt and unzip my pants.

She was failing at her task so horrifically that I had to cease mine to assist her. I removed my belt and pulled my pants down over my knees. She stared for a moment, entranced, though, obviously, it had not been the first time we’d had this type of encounter. I lay back on the bench, forcing her to unlock her legs from me, then pulled her down to meet me, face to face. I kissed her, a little softer this time, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and whispering,

“Suck my cock, you bitch.”

She yelped as I gave a vigorous tug on her hair, but hastily submitted by taking me fully into her pretty little mouth. It was now my turn to reap the benefits of arousal. My pulse climbed, my breathing grew rapid and shallow, and I knew that I could bear very little more foreplay. I groaned without consciously desiring to do, but she had raised it out of me. I opened my eyes and watched her, artfully bobbing her head up and down, her mouth tender and warm and wet, her hands perfectly placed, stroking me exquisitely.

She climbed up on top of me and rubbed herself against me. I shivered delightfully and pulled her closer, countering with my own gyrations. She leaned down, letting her hair fall and frame us behind its curtain, and kissed me, as though eating my lips for sustenance. We continued to caress one another in this fashion until I lifted her onto me. She inhaled sharply as I penetrated her, eyes widened and bursting with mixed emotions. She looked down at me as her hips glided to and fro, and I could tell that she saw the hunger in my eyes. I gazed up at her, watching her make her best effort to pleasure the both of us. She released a feeble moan and rode faster, harder. She leaned down to kiss me, but I grabbed a hold of her jaw, forcing her to stop. I tightened my fingers around her slim neck and watched her pretty eyes grow even larger than I’d ever seen them.

“Harder,” I growled, forcing her to comply. I kept my fingers neatly wrapped around her throat, squeezing tighter every so often, treating her like a horse with a riding crop.

“Faster,” I demanded, now so satiated with excitement that I would soon, assuredly, burst.

I looked up into her eyes, now bloodshot and rife with pain and fear, and noticed the tears streaking her cheeks. Her copious black mascara had run and smeared across her face. The hate I bore for her proliferated almost instantly once I had debased her to this weak and ugly creature, far from the beautiful and confident one I had encountered only moments before our romp had begun. I gripped her throat with such force and vehemence that she let out a pathetic yelp, placing her hand on top of mine, and shaking her head as more tears streamed from her swollen eyes. I released my hand from her throat and she inhaled with haste, as if tasting air for the first time in her life. She stopped for a moment to regain her composure, but to me, this was unacceptable. I struck her hard across the face and pushed her off of me, shoving her onto her hands and knees. I knew that she ached to scream from the pain and pleasure I’d been inflicting upon her, but I wouldn’t allow such a thing.

I slapped my hand over her mouth and pulled her hips back in line with mine. I promptly slipped back inside of her and began to pump with full force. She felt exquisite, divine, like a glove. I groaned without inhibition, feeling as though I’d passed on to another world, a greater world. I reached down and started to rub her, just the way I knew she liked it. She whimpered and bit my fingers, shaking with ecstasy.

“Yes, cum for me,” I whispered just beside her ear. I kissed her neck affectionately and she gasped, leaning her head back against my chest. I thrust remorselessly and deeper as I felt her hips buckle beneath the pressure of my fingers. She let out a pitiable cry and I felt her thighs shaking with climax.

“Good,” I said, softly, “now, it’s my turn.”

I eased my pace to get a much more intimate feel of her. I wanted to experience every ridge, every passage, every throbbing muscle inside of her. The mere thought of it caused me to tremble, deliciously, as I put my plan into action. I ran my fingers through her hair, tenderly massaging her scalp before taking hold of her hips to manually move them just the way I needed them to move. She reached back and stroked my cheek, then ran her hand over my lips and down my neck. The shock and awe of her loving touch struck a chord deeply within me and, fight it as I might have, it transported me into paradise. I gave three more fierce thrusts within her and, without warning, let everything inside of me go. I heard her cry something out, but could not comprehend what she was saying, having been transported to some kind of blissful realm. She squirmed below me as I filled her up, but I didn’t give a good goddamn. I held her firmly in place, rocking my hips gently as the last few drops spilled out of me before collapsing, breathless, on top of her.

I felt far too complacent to move, but the high did not last long. Several minutes later, I leaped off of her and pulled my pants back up. A heat wave rolled over my entire body, and I felt the intense burn of iniquity. My hands began to shake, and it seemed as though a layer of frost had started to develop on my brow. She rolled over and looked at me, briefly, before casting her eyes to the floor. She pulled her panties up and locked her legs tightly against her body. She sniffled and wiped a lone tear from her eye, coming through her tangled hair with her fingers.

“Well,” I said, “thanks.”

She looked at me, appalled.

“Thanks?”

“You know,” I shrugged.

She shook her head and looked away from me.

“I will never understand you, Brian.”

“And I never want you to,” I replied.

She sat up and frowned at me.

“But I want to.”

I placed a hand on her cheek and smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Her face contorted, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. With me.”

She shook her head and sighed.

“Don’t get all crazy on me, now,” I said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re crazy like a fox.”

“Brian,”

The smile on my face dissipated and the sting of shame rolled over me again.

“I need to go,” I said.

“Why?”

“My mom needs to borrow my car for work.”

“It’s five in the morning. And why, all of a sudden, does she need your car the day that you come home for the holiday? You live in Greensboro, for fuck’s sake.”

The frost on my brow replaced the hot sting of guilt again. I panicked,

“I have to let the dog out,” I said. She frowned and got off of the bench, completely disheveled, nothing like the goddess I had witnessed before having fucked her. She walked up to me and stepped up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my mouth.

“Go home,” she said, a strong sense of sadness in her voice.

I kissed her cheek and patted her on the head like a child.

“Don’t worry. I still like you,” I said, pausing with a perverse grin, “I guess.”

She sighed and wrapped herself around me, an act of desperation she would often display in order to hold on to me as long as I’d allow her. Several moments passed before I peeled her off of me, turning my back to go.

“We should hang out while you’re in town. You know, like old times. We could catch up,” she said. I paused in the doorway of the car and turned to look at her.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, sighing. She smiled so broadly, I thought I might be ill.

“Okay!”

I opened the door of the streetcar and stepped out into the darkness, breathing the cold air into my lungs to clear my muddled mind. Calpurnia ran out after me and wrapped her arms around my midsection, burying her face between my shoulder blades, something she’d done to me since childhood.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. I sighed again.

“Yeah,” was all I could say. I broke free of her once more and walked to my car. She tagged along behind me and stood beside hers, watching me get inside and turn the key in the ignition. She stood there, so forlornly, as if it would be the last time she’d ever see me. I couldn’t stand how inadequate it made her appear. I rolled down the window and waved to her, about to pull off to make my way home. She rushed over to the window side and kissed me once more with fervor. To suffice her, I countered the sentiment.

“Drive safely,” she said, a heartbreaking smile on her face.

“Bye,” I said, waving once more before I rolled up the window and got back onto the road. As I drove off, I could see her standing there in the middle of the road, watching me drive away. I don’t think she moved a muscle until my car was out of her line of sight. Thirty-four minutes later, I sat parked in my mother’s apartment complex parking lot, watching the sun rise over the tree tops. I closed my eyes and let fatigue defeat me, slipping off to slumber to escape my guilty conscience.

I never called.