|
page-59
Roxanne said, 'Sharlena doesn't like hanging around places prostitutes are known to frequent.' Sharlena said, 'The place is full of hookers and lesbians!' She leaves. 'Then you won't see her for a few days. She uses freedom to sail herself like a kite elsewhere. But the money and the love of the girls always brings her back, not necessarily in that order either. The girls wait for her with that glow of trusting offspring. Even when she wasn't in a particularly good mood, she said to one of the girls this evening, 'What do you think we're running here? The whole of Darwin wants to book you and you turn up on the rag bleeding like a slaughtered pig!' He said, 'Oh, there is something. I like anal stimulation.' I said, 'Well, you got the wrong gal here, sweetheart. I don't go there.' He said, 'The other girls usually use gloves. One got on top of me and fucked me backwards while she stuck her finger up my arse.' 'Well,' Sharlena said, 'you learn something new every day.'
I had to act all interested but he wasn't stupid and could see the look on my face. He kept saying, 'There's nothing wrong with it. The anus is very sensitive, especially around the outside.' I thought, too much information, you moron. I said, 'I know what you mean. Some of my girlfriends take it up the arse.' 'Well, you'll have to introduce me to them!' I smile like a crocodile and he suddenly falls in love. I tell him anything that comes to mind about arseholes to keep him interested. It was the longest fucken hour I've ever spent. So the guy and I just made conversation and I touched his chest a bit. He should have been a poof. He'd be better off. He kept telling me about how sensitive his arsehole was. Samantha piped up, 'He must come every time he goes for a crap!' 'Yeah, whatever…Anyway I wasn't going there, so he stuck his own fingers in with the lube on them and squelch squelch squelch, while I gave him a hand job. The noise made me a bit sick. I mainly watched his face, which wasn't no pretty sight either, so I looked back down at his cock. It was Ugly City all round. There was nowhere else to fucking look! The minute he got going on his arsehole with his own fingers, his eyes started rolling around in his head and he went all dreamy with pleasure. Imagine waking up to that in the morning?! You'd never want to hold his hand! No woman would put up with that! No normal sex just the thunder box. Jesus, imagine a guy wanting to stimulate his own arsehole every time he got turned on. But then again, stranger things have happened. 'Certainly,' said Roxanne, 'it's a very spontaneous industry. That's what I like about it.' Yeah right. Well how about this for spontaneous. I was working in a parlour down in Perth and there was this black guy. He wanted me to lick his arsehole through a dam. I said, 'I won't even lick it through a garbage bag!' Then I pointed to my foot and said, 'You can lick my boot and then I'll lick your arsehole with it. How's that?' He walked out in disgust.
Roxanne speaks: After my first termination there was the presence of a phantom child for one year. On the ninth month I sweated like a mushroom, swelling with emptiness. I didn't feel lost. Days have been emptier. I was simply in pain with a paper gown attached to my back. I was trying to survive like those years when I crawled through parks, lower than the bellies of city cats, with the snails to keep me company. There seemed no point to it. It was just the kind of thing to knock the faith out of me, like being a rainforest activist and making a career of my pain, like being winded suddenly that time I fell from a majestic horse and bounced off my tail bone along the icy mountain trail. It was the best thing that could have happened to me. The golden horse galloped into the sky. It was as if I had tried to ride the sun. Now I see all horses as free and planetary, just as our galaxy would see planets as flowers in their midnight meadow. To the phantom child I say, 'why did you choose to make your home in me? As unaware as a possum in a tree about to be felled, you clung without my permission.' I looked between my legs as her gloved hand entered, her gentle fingers digging for gold beneath the soft mound. I felt like an egg. She said, 'You have a very pregnant womb.' I couldn't help but smile and feel somehow proud of myself, although I knew that I would have to kill it. 'My achievement,' I murmured in my sleep. The harbour landscape was pregnant with warm rain. Possibilities opened up like flowers and then faded quickly. I had no loving partner! I had no mother to share my experience with. I had no money either. Suddenly I realised how vulnerable I was. My pelvic bone and feet bones already softening. |
