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When Samantha arrived the house was hot and humid. It really stank of his cock. He was efficient and had the glass of water all ready for her. He had showered, had a cone and the money was on the kitchen table. He was really ready for fucking for the whole hour, having no style about him. She did make him change the sheets, where the smell of stale cock was strongest. During that hour she said, 'Sweetie, I'm not a fucking robot.' It felt like she was being thrown back and forth between being really nice and losing it completely. If she had lost it, he wouldn't have forgotten in a hurry. All the windows would have been kicked out, the wasp man fleeing with his limp piece, from the house with hollow eyes. Samantha said, 'I hated his entire being, darling!' His cock was like a tiny pencil moving in and out of a pencil sharpener. Her body rocked like a boat. They were both adrift in it.
Sam wanted him to be the first to drown. She was planning to push him under and hold him there until he was still. He was very ugly too. When she left he waved from the verandah. He said, 'If I see you around town, just wave. It's cool.' Poor Sam scowled up at him from the street like a hawk. She thought vicious thoughts, but too late 'cause she had fucked up. She had allowed him to ruin her for the night, her talons harmless and one hunting claw missing. Samantha held her womb, cried at her loss of control and vomited her rage into the toilet bowl at Nikita's motel room. Then she flushed him down the toilet and thought of her next job. She said to Jackie, 'He liked to watch himself move in and out like a pencil sharpener sweetie, most probably imagining what he had seen other men do in pornographic movies, although he had a hunchback, bad skin and a small dick.' She had failed because this would be what she most remembered about him, when she shouldn't be remembering him at all. He must have known all this. Jackie said, 'I would have cut the fucking thing off and shoved it down the fucker's throat! Then he can get a taste of his own medicine!'
Jackie speaks: Yeah, I know the type. He was a dirty little fisherman. I went to his house in Alawa and he had all these heads of stuffed animals hanging on the walls. As long as mine doesn't end up there amongst them, I thought. Sharlena fucked a guy in a wheelchair at Palmerston last week, who had similar trophies. She caught her new lacy stay-up stockings in the spokes on his wheels and was really pissed off about it. 'He was rotten in the crotch,' she said. I said, 'You should have showered the motherfucker.' But she couldn't lift him out of the chair. 'Well, you should have taken him out the back and hosed him off.' 'Jackie, honey, he's not a dog.' 'Yeah, well I didn't say to clip his nails, okay.' It was Sharlena's first job in a while and she was a bit rusty. 'You were a bit rusty and he was a bit crusty, huh?' 'Bitch,' Sharlena said. She done good out there. We were thinking about sending her to the paralympics. Some of these guys' backsides and calves are so small, I think of them being at high school and I don't wanna do the bloody booking.
This fisherman was fascinated with the entrance to my cunt. A few get like that, especially the Asians with the big western women. 'I like looking,' he said, the filthy prick. I hated him just as much after he showered. Given the opportunity, I was willing to kill him. Anyway he is opening up my flaps, or my 'lamp chops', as Sharlena calls them, and fingering all around the hole of my cunt. I was gonna stick a franger on his finger but he wouldn't be getting any further. Samantha makes them wear rubber gloves, like they're doing the washing up or something. And he says, 'Do you play with it in the afternoons? Touch yourself and show me how you do it.' The dopey bastard. I said, 'That's my little secret, sweetheart.' I was so nice and sweet as I said it, that Spring could have started up right there and then (even though this place only gets two summers), and all the little musical notes would come pouring out of the blackbirds' beaks, that's along with the psychotic hum of a trillion bees, in some kind of hallucination of wellbeing, which was what this fucker appeared to be having. His dick was as dirty as a tattoo, dark swampy green brown. It was so dark that it looked like it had ink stains on the shaft. Fucken canary, I thought. I'd like to put him down the coalmine first, before the fucking bird. |
