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She was alone after God had fucked her body with the gigantic mind of time. 'When will God love me?' she wept. 'When you come,' was the reply. She moved her cunt on top of him, so that she felt his condom-covered cock activate her G-spot that was a rocket. The squelch of plastic and lubricant around his hardness felt like a coal train chugging through a tunnel. The hard sterility of the condom was turning her on. She was getting off on the impersonality of it. She was using his cock like an act and she didn't care who it belonged to. She didn't care about what he said or when and how he said it. He said, 'Come on my big black cock. I love fucking Australian women from Darwin. Fuck me with your white cunt. Come on my big black cock.' This dirty talk made no difference to her. She thought briefly of suffocating the voice beneath the pillow. But before she knew it her cunt took over, reared up and threw her into orgasm, like a motor boat suddenly bucking and toppling, ... oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...don't stop. Don't stop. God is coming with the jolt and quiver of a mechanical vibration until its engine quickly dies down. Once done she never bothered to look at his face. She eased herself off his obscenity that he called a man. She grabbed the base of the condom with her thumb and finger, so that nothing would spill out into the world. She wrapped it up inside a tissue and went to put it in the bin. She felt a bit like a dirty dog who had just pissed all over him.
He took it out of her trembling hands and threw it onto the plush carpet. He hadn't come. She said, 'Have you got a cigarette?' He did. She said, 'Would you like me to clean that up?' He said, 'No. Let the hotel staff do their job.' He's a dope, she thought. It was the usual story. I'm the poor one with all the class and he's a rich slob. She didn't want to be in the same room with him now that she had come. She liked the way that female spiders disposed of their sexual partners after the act. 'I'd like a shower,' she said. 'Okay,' he said, but he wasn't happy. 'You didn't come,' she said walking away. 'No,' he said to the back of her boney shoulders, 'I already had four women today. I'd only come if I could come on your melons.' In the sanctuary of the bathroom with all doors locked, Jackie's feeble body grew accustomed to the huge fluffy towels. She turned on the gold taps of the marble shower and noticed how skinny her two wrists were. There were mirrors everywhere. This is an intense fantasy world. She didn't know the date of the month or what day of the week it was. She didn't remember the men, only the jobs, room numbers and money made. In the end she forgot all that as well. Yet just now her womb had that satisfied feeling of come. The world was peaceful like a field or a child.
'Well, I finally did it,' said Jackie. All night the tropics had sweltered in her blood, the mangroves slowly turning muddy and rotten, sucking in quantities of salt to crystalise the ocean, inside their resilient rubbery green leaves, and the crocodiles were surfacing like criminals, basking in the mud. How she ached for all of that which existed outside the industry. She missed the daylight hours, the big wet season thunderstorms building up in intensity, with their blankets of warm green rain, and the lime bark of geckos on the fly wire screen by the rotten cheesefruit and pandanus palm. Would she ever return? It appeared that beauty was out of her reach. Perhaps it was her fate to pursue the unobtainable. 'As for the monster at the Plaza Hotel,' she said, 'I knew that if I came on him, that I could come with anyone.' She had been successful in destroying that part of herself just that little bit more again. 'I was far too soft when I entered this job. It's like those very fat people. They gotta lose a lot of weight all at once 'cause they're so big it's unhealthy. Well, I was fat in softness. I had to lose a lot of it fast. The world was slowly eating me up.' In Jackie's world it was best to be in control, and to offer just a little bit of herself as a sacrifice. She was killing it off inside herself. Later that day she consulted a Nightcliff Markets psychic, 'When will I die?' The psychic said, 'When you are ready to.' 'I was ready to die a little bit more today and I did,' she said. |
