Authors: Edward Lee
Shifters (10 page)
Didn’t figure on seein’ the chick.
Off-the-wall shit. He was about to shag a padlock when he felt something weird. Weird night, too. Cold and real breezy. The moon was real low and white. Wire turned, crowbar in hand, then he hunkered down in the coaming.
What the fuck?
See, this chick was standing at the end of the dock. Buck naked, too, which didn’t make no sense ’cos it was
cold
. She looked wet. Had this split-tail just come out of the water?
Naw, that’s fuckin’ impossible, she’d freeze ta death.
Wire’s drug-cooked brain was at least functional enough to realize that.
cold
. She looked wet. Had this split-tail just come out of the water?
Naw, that’s fuckin’ impossible, she’d freeze ta death.
Wire’s drug-cooked brain was at least functional enough to realize that.
But she was
beautiful
.
beautiful
.
Wild red hair, dynamite body, legs, hooters. This chick was one hot number.
So what the fuck’s she doin’ standing naked on a
fuckin’ pier in the middle of the night?
So what the fuck’s she doin’ standing naked on a
fuckin’ pier in the middle of the night?
This was a good question. Wire, however, did not deliberate upon it. All he knew was this: he was gonna get inta this chick’s shit good. Oh, yeah. He was gonna do a cock number on her like she’d never fucking forget.
She was just standing there straight as a mooring stull, staring up into the black sky.
Wire was getting hard just looking at this weird chick. Her skin was white, almost like light. She had the big dark stick-out kinda nipples and an ass that wouldn’t quit. Suddenly she turned and stepped onto one of the boats.
Wire made his move. Fuck the fuckin’ inordinate inexplicabilities, he was gonna
get down.
He opened up his Al-Mar and snuck past the dock. The moon made his shadow look like a slinky wire.
get down.
He opened up his Al-Mar and snuck past the dock. The moon made his shadow look like a slinky wire.
She’d climbed aboard a 24-foot cabin cruiser called WE’RE AWEIGH. Nice looking boat, and well-equipped. Maybe when Wire was done plugging this broad till her shit came out her ears, he’d knock the boat over for its depth-finder ‘n shit. Two birds with one stone, ya know? But when he peered over the gunwale, he couldn’t fuckin’ believe it!
The chick was doin’ the job herself!
Wire couldn’t see what she had, but she was breaking the lock off the door to belowdecks. Just like that—
Crack!
and it was off. Then she stepped down into the cabin and turned on the light.
Crack!
and it was off. Then she stepped down into the cabin and turned on the light.
Wire couldn’t make heads ner fuckin’ tails of this shit.
Naked chick, wet like she just come outa the water, bustin’ into boats.
But if indeed she were a fuckin’ thief, like Wire, she was not possessed of much between the head-handles. Gotta be plain-ass stupid to turn on the cabin light when you’re jacking shit off a boat at midnight.
Naked chick, wet like she just come outa the water, bustin’ into boats.
But if indeed she were a fuckin’ thief, like Wire, she was not possessed of much between the head-handles. Gotta be plain-ass stupid to turn on the cabin light when you’re jacking shit off a boat at midnight.
She was looking for something, Wire realized next, not jacking. She was rummaging through the cabin slots, tossing things to the floor. Towels, sandals, tubes of suntan lotion, shit like that. She was bending over, and Wire was gandering that big beautiful tail-end on her, and he could see that gorgeous rack of tits swaying back and forth as she continued to rummage. All he could contemplate was this beautiful body and what he was gonna do to it in about two seconds.
But what was she looking for?
Clothes,
he realized then. She’d found a pair of cutoff jeans, and slipped into them. Then she found a T-shirt that said THE KORT HAUS TAVERN on it. Before she could put it on, Wire stepped over the sheer line and thumped down into the cabin.
he realized then. She’d found a pair of cutoff jeans, and slipped into them. Then she found a T-shirt that said THE KORT HAUS TAVERN on it. Before she could put it on, Wire stepped over the sheer line and thumped down into the cabin.
The chick turned, unsurprised. Wire stared at her rib melons, his thumb running along the smooth steel of his Al-Mar.
“Hello,” she said.
Wire’s sneer went lax. He felt funny all of a sudden; he felt prickly. There was some scent that reminded him of animals or something. “Them shorts, sweetcakes? Get ’em the fuck off,” he articulated. He turned the knife, which glinted meanly.
“Are you a sinner?” she asked.
What the fuck was this shit? “Get the fuckin’ shorts off, honey, or I cut ’em off. I got no time ta fuck around. We can do this hard or easy. Your choice.”
The chick smiled. “Easy,” she decided.
Oh yeah, oh yeah,
was the only thought that could traverse Wire’s PCP-pocked gray matter as she stepped back out of the cutoffs. Wire gaped. He’d raped tons of chicks, some of ’em real hot numbers, hot bods, but never anything like this. Uh-uh. This was some cut of meat. Just looking at her Wire thought he might blow his juice right in his grimy jeans. The mere outline of her in the cabin light, the sleek curvy shape of her—Wire had never fathomed such an intricate and concise ideal of fuckin’ physical pulchritudity.
was the only thought that could traverse Wire’s PCP-pocked gray matter as she stepped back out of the cutoffs. Wire gaped. He’d raped tons of chicks, some of ’em real hot numbers, hot bods, but never anything like this. Uh-uh. This was some cut of meat. Just looking at her Wire thought he might blow his juice right in his grimy jeans. The mere outline of her in the cabin light, the sleek curvy shape of her—Wire had never fathomed such an intricate and concise ideal of fuckin’ physical pulchritudity.
But that all-of-a-sudden funny feeling began to grow, like some fucked up heat way-way down in his gut. What was it? He tried to concentrate, he tried to look at her face, but he couldn’t see it, not really anyway. There was something about her eyes—huge, rich dark-brown or dark something, he wasn’t sure—that obscured him, and more and more it did indeed seem that she was made of light. She was so fuckin’ gorgeous he coulda shit.
But what had she said? Are you a
sinner?
sinner?
“You don’t need that.” She meant the knife. “It’s been a long time for me.”
“The fuck you talkin’ about? I—”
“Come here.”
Now something was
really
fucked up. He was staring at those high, big-as-croquet-balls tits on her, that dynamite flat waist and big dark bush. He felt summoned, he felt screwed in the eye by some overpowering call of desire. Next thing he knew, Wire—a sociopath, an amoral streetscum thief and rapist—was making out with this chick
bigtime.
They both seemed to melt together onto the cabin floor, swooning in each other’s arms. This wasn’t no fuckin rape—this was passion, something quite foreign to Wire, so foreign, in fact, so remote from the scope of his scumbag drug-infested brain-cells-fried- like-bacon life that he could scarcely fuckin’ contemplate it. She was all over him, her warm sweet lips dressing him with kisses as she peeled his duds off. Her tongue slipped around in his mouth, and those big dark nipples got so hard they felt like pebbles against his chest, and all Wire could do was lie back and let this tough, brick shithouse chick smother him with her kisses and caress him into a vortex of pleasure like he’d never known.
really
fucked up. He was staring at those high, big-as-croquet-balls tits on her, that dynamite flat waist and big dark bush. He felt summoned, he felt screwed in the eye by some overpowering call of desire. Next thing he knew, Wire—a sociopath, an amoral streetscum thief and rapist—was making out with this chick
bigtime.
They both seemed to melt together onto the cabin floor, swooning in each other’s arms. This wasn’t no fuckin rape—this was passion, something quite foreign to Wire, so foreign, in fact, so remote from the scope of his scumbag drug-infested brain-cells-fried- like-bacon life that he could scarcely fuckin’ contemplate it. She was all over him, her warm sweet lips dressing him with kisses as she peeled his duds off. Her tongue slipped around in his mouth, and those big dark nipples got so hard they felt like pebbles against his chest, and all Wire could do was lie back and let this tough, brick shithouse chick smother him with her kisses and caress him into a vortex of pleasure like he’d never known.
She reached down—her hand was so
hot
—and all she had to do was lay one finger on Wire’s torqued-up throbbing works, and that was all she fuckin’ wrote. Wire’s spunk shot out of him before he even knew he was coming.
Aw, fer shit’s sake!
Some rapist! He felt like a fucking idiot. Yeah, ol’ Wire really tore this bitch up, huh? Yeah, he really jammed it to her.
Blow my nut before I even get it in her stuff. You’d think I was some fuckin’ thirteen-year-old or something.
Regardless of the circumstance, he felt absolutely fuckin’ humiliated. “Don’t worry,” she consoled. Her hands stroked him, caressed him. Had he been a bit more introspective he’d have realized it was the first time he’d been really caressed in his life. “Time means nothing,” she said.
hot
—and all she had to do was lay one finger on Wire’s torqued-up throbbing works, and that was all she fuckin’ wrote. Wire’s spunk shot out of him before he even knew he was coming.
Aw, fer shit’s sake!
Some rapist! He felt like a fucking idiot. Yeah, ol’ Wire really tore this bitch up, huh? Yeah, he really jammed it to her.
Blow my nut before I even get it in her stuff. You’d think I was some fuckin’ thirteen-year-old or something.
Regardless of the circumstance, he felt absolutely fuckin’ humiliated. “Don’t worry,” she consoled. Her hands stroked him, caressed him. Had he been a bit more introspective he’d have realized it was the first time he’d been really caressed in his life. “Time means nothing,” she said.
“Huh?”
“We have lots of time.”
Even her voice drove him nuts. Darkly sweet. Softly coarse. She gently turned him over on his belly, straddled him, and began to massage his back. Yeah, this was all right. So he’d blown his first load kinda fast? Like this she’d have him up again in no time. Her fingers felt like electric heat working deep into his shoulders and along his spine.
“Does this feel good?”
“Yeah,” Wire moaned. “Oh, yeah, baby, that’s nice.”
Did she giggle?
“Cadillac misses you.”
Wire’s thought processes took a hike. His eyes bulged.
“And so do Sliphammer and Percy,” she said.
Suddenly he wanted to vomit. He couldn’t move, he could only lie there now in terror rigid as an iron rod. What she’d said—it was impossible. His mind became a sewer of memories: all those horrid hot sweat-stinking nights splayed out on some crusty bunk, on his belly.
Cadillac. Sliphammer. Percy.
They were some of the players who’d butt-fucked him back when he was in the state slam. The biggest of them, guys with cocks like radiator hose. Every night these fucking bulls gave it to him. Every night for three fucking years.
“White ‘N Tight,” she said, and then her voice, that creamy rough sexy dark syrupy voice oozed into hideousness…
“Yeah, we’se gonna bust you up right in yo’ boy-pussy, we’se gonna work yo’ ass.”
Wire was screaming. The giant black hand gripped the back of his neck and mashed his face against the floor.
“You
my
bitch t’night, White ‘N Tight,” Cadillac said.
my
bitch t’night, White ‘N Tight,” Cadillac said.
SEVEN
Bang!
(i)
By midnight Concannon’s was packed. Chatter, laughter, and the aroma of halibut fish & chips swirled in the air. It was one of those nights, Locke supposed: they arrived in droves—the downtown restaurant crowd, armies of beer snobs, and revelers in general. It gave the pub its spirit; this was no pit stop for singles but a consortium of cool and happy people. Carl jockeyed drinks like a madman. Music beat in the walls. In no time Concannon’s rocked in frolic.
Locke sank in despair.
It didn’t take him long to get drunk. How many pints had he had? Six? Eight? Alcohol pursued his despair—it always did.
I’m becoming a drunk,
he drunkenly considered. Each beer delved further into his memory of Clare.
I’m becoming a drunk,
he drunkenly considered. Each beer delved further into his memory of Clare.
He felt locked out of the crowd’s revelry. He felt totally alone.
Where is she now? What’s she doing? How come she doesn’t come here anymore?
Where is she now? What’s she doing? How come she doesn’t come here anymore?
Because you’re here, asshole.
Was that it? She didn’t want his love anymore. She didn’t want him in her life anymore. She didn’t even want to be in the same room with him.
Is that it?
Locke ordered another pint.
Lehrling was trying to make time with two waitresses from The College Inn. “I’m a novelist,” he bragged. “Big deal,” they both said at the same time. “I have five million books in print,” he tried again. “Oh, we care?” they both said again. Eventually they picked up their Nordic Wolfs and moved across the bar. Then a girl from the art college sat down next to him. “Hi, my name’s Dan Quayle,” Lehrling said. “Can my father buy you a drink?”
That one seemed to work.
His friend occupied, Locke was left to his thoughts. Before him lay balled-up examples of his current work, on bar napkins.
Exorcism,
he remembered Lehrling’s advice. He wrote another one:
Exorcism,
he remembered Lehrling’s advice. He wrote another one:
Through twilit nights my love still soars.
I am forever and ineffably yours.
He crumpled it up at once and ordered another beer. What good was poetic exorcism if it didn’t exorcise? Perhaps Locke’s love was so great it could
never
be exorcised. Perhaps his love for Clare would be in his heart forever.
never
be exorcised. Perhaps his love for Clare would be in his heart forever.
Every now and then he craned around. Couples holding hands. Couples kissing. Couples in love. Was the whole world in love tonight? Even Lehrling was making it; the art school girl had her arm around him!
Kissing couples, holding hands,
passions swirl in glee.
Everyone’s in love tonight,
everyone but me.
Forlorn asshole.
Could anything feel this bad? The beer entombed him in regret. If he had no feelings at all, then at least he could cope with himself. But how do you get rid of feelings? How do you
kill
your feelings?
kill
your feelings?
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