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.