152 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
152 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
*** A Halloween Entertainment, by averti ***
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She unhooked her skirt and dropped it to the floor. She sat on the edge
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of the table and looked at me. She wore no panties. She had removed her
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pubic hair, for the first time I could remember. The smooth, almost
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shiny new expanse of bare skin looked slightly startled, like some cave
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dweller suddenly brought into the light.
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***
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She reached behind her and took out a small knife. The indirect
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lamplight gleamed on the curved blade and darkly figured wooden handle.
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``Do you know this knife?'' she asked, turning it in her fingers.
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``Yes. I _made_ that knife.''
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``Indeed you did.''
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``How did you come by it? The owner was a witch--''
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She smiled coldly. ``A witch who was murdered. But not with this knife.''
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I returned her fixed gaze. ``I know that.''
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``I KNOW you know it. You were there, the next day, right? You walked
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in her dried blood, you picked through her stuff...''
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All this was true, but beside the point. ``Where did YOU get the knife?''
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``Bought it off a fence who bought it off the Sausalito cop who kiped
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it from the crime scene...''
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***
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She trailed the point of the knife idly down one thigh and back up the
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other. The knife left a very very thin scratch quite clear on her
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smooth tan skin.
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I felt like I was in the wrong story. ``What do you want?'' I was
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compelled to ask.
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``I want things to be like they were. I want you to look at me. watch
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me, the way you used to. I want you to crawl over here on your knees
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and jerk off onto my toes. I want you to be glued to the wall, drilling
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into me with your eyes, as I turn myself inside out for you. I want you
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to sit in the corner and cry while I masturbate for you--AT you--until
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my pussy is one raw glowing mess!''
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***
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I wished I still smoked. I needed a cigarette to fiddle with, so my
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hands and their obvious shaking wouldn't give me away. I had loved, if
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that's the right approximate word, this woman for a generation. I knew
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she was totally self-centered and totally ruthless and absolutely no
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more to be trusted than the senior lioness in a circus act.
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I stood against the wall, near the door, like a dummy, watching her,
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trying very hard not to stare, staring very hard. She manipulated the
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litle knife in the air with one skillful hand while beginning to feel
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and tease between her legs with the other. I wondered if it really were
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possible to dislocate one's eyes just from avid staring...I hated
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myself for knowing every inch and millimeter of that pussy. I could
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paint a picture of it, sculpt a replica of it, if I could knit I could
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knit a pussy afghan of it. I knew it when it was young, when it was
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dry, when it was wet, when it was swollen with lust, pried apart by the
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hands of other women, stuffed full of dildos, vibrators, vegetables...
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everything except how it felt to fuck.
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`There's some kind of definitive orgasm inside me'' she said
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wildly.``If I can't tease it out I'll DRAG it out.''
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She took the small knife and made a neat four-inch incision in the
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perfect skin of her lower belly, just above the start of the white,
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hairless pubic area. Dark, rich-looking blood welled and then began to
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trickle down toward the meeting of her thighs.
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``That's why I shaved'' she said. ``Much easier to see. Much neater.''
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``All the best surgeons do it that way'' I murmured, dreamily watching
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the blood ooze downward.
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She took a fresh grasp on the knife and made another incision parallel
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to and below the first, and then yet another. They were not dangerously
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deep, I could tell; no possibility of suddenly seeing escaping lower
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intestines. I leaned against the wall, next to the door, and just kept
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watching. Her facial expression hadn't changed one iota since she began
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cutting. Still the same beautiful mask, full mouth, dark eyes, a
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general expression of knowing something that nobody else knows.
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She dabbled her free hand in her crotch, which by now was throughly
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soaked in blood, then raised the hand to her face and licked delicately
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at it like a cat. ``Mmmm...I like getting REALLY in touch with myself''
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she smiled. Rather ghastly with her own blood on her lips. ``A woman
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should be free to choose the time and place to bleed...''
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I was pretty sure that those superficial slashes would begin to clot
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over before long. I watched as she slid backwards into the center of
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the table, leaving a dark brownish-red smear as she went. She opened
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her legs and showed me her naked, gleaming vulva. Looked quite
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striking, actually, but, to me, less erotic than exploitative.
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She held the little knife delicately and made several minor cuts along
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the edges of her labia majora, saying ``Blood goes to blood'' and then
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groaning, not in pain but in lust. The knife clattered as she threw it
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carelessly onto the floor. Then she began to use both hands between her
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legs, shifting and moaning and drawing hissing breaths as I had seen
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her do a thousand times before, as though the blood were just some new
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kinky love lube you could buy in an overpriced plastic squeeze bottle.
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I watched for a minute more. Out of context, this would have been
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transfixing. Cheap as it felt, for me, it was more like watching a
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former friend get very drunk and wrap her car around a median pole. I
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lowered my eyes, and then turned toward the door.
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``Wait!! Where--'' she hissed, in a strangled voice that I knew so
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well. Again. not pain, but lust for self. Lust for control. Even over
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mere me, the one-time easiest to control of them all.
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``Thanks for the show, babe. But I haven't paid for the E-ticket, and
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it looks like the big ride is almost under way.''
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``YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME NOW!!'' masturbating faster, like somebody trying
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to get their stalled car on the railroad tracks started by sheer will
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power.
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``I won't. I left you eleven months ago. You weren't paying attention.
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Anyway,'' I opened the door, ``You're the one with the imagination.
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Just imagine I'm still here--sitting in the corner, watching and
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drooling--the imaginary me always cooperated better, anyway...''
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I closed the door and made for the elevator. I had never felt so good
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about leaving a room containing a naked, bloody, sex-crazed woman. I
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was pretty sure she'd be all over herself with towels and antiseptic
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and bandages in a minute.
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As the elevator doors closed I heard this long, eerie howl, the
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capstone to an hour of blood and horror. Other people must have heard
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it too; but I was the only one who knew that it was not a werewolf or a
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vampire and any such common wretch. Only I knew that it was the
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enraged, frustrated cry of a first-rate witch having a second-rate
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orgasm.
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****
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Well, happy Halloween, little friends...and if you should find yourself
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gazing lustfully at the knife...well, one can always make more blood,
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they say...
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averti
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