stirring in the strip club

She said her name was Angel but I really didn’t care. Her cleavage was incredible and although she looked great in lingerie, I wanted to see her naked. After flirting for ten minutes she asked for $50, which I gladly paid, and then led me into a dimly lit private room with an old leather couch.

She was obviously horny when she told me that it was against the rules to touch her. Her eyes glazed and her chest heaved so I knew she wanted me to, I just wasn’t really supposed to. I told her I understood perfectly, she smiled so devilishly and began to undress a meter in front of me.

She swayed and rolled her hips, coming closer and closer to me, then got on her knees right in between my legs and slid off her bra. She leaned into me, pressing her soft breasts hard against my chest. I could smell vanilla on her skin, coconut in her hair and young, hot blood. My jeans grew uncomfortably tight. She noticed and stood up, turning her back on me. Slowly she eased her g-string all the way down to her ankles, never bending her knees at all. What a perfect sight, her bent over so close to me. She was just waiting for it, for me to touch her.

So I reached out and grazed my fingers between her legs. I didn’t get the reaction I had hoped for. She spun around in a rage and smacked me hard in the mouth, yelling at me, saying I was disgusting. What a fucking bitch! She was practically begging me for it. Two seconds later security grabbed me by the shirt, choking me and dragged me to the exit.  He punched me in the face, breaking my nose and knocking me to the pavement. I went to wipe the blood away and smelled her on my fingers. I laughed.

It was worth it.

a noose to hang

This is a true story….

He hadn’t wanted to go into that shed so late in the cold and cursed his mother for not bringing in firewood before she went out. Where was she anyway?! It was too late for a school night. He cursed her over and over until he opened the shed door and jumped at the sight of her figure in the darkness. He fumbled for the light switch.

She had left herself for them to find in agonizingly plain sight, hanging, frozen in death. Her pale face obscured by her auburn hair, her hands, oddly, in her pockets. There was no mystery in her final moments, and no cushioning the blow for her son when he found her.

For a long while he stood, unable to move or breathe or comprehend what his eyes were telling him was real. Finally he snapped and moved to her to save her, to let her breathe and bring her back. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted, easing the tension in the rope, but there was no great gasp for air. With her chest resting on his head he listened for even the faintest sign of her beating heart. Begged for it.

Nothing.

He fell to the floor with a sickening wail, her feet dangling at his head, tears and spit spilling freely to the cold concrete. He felt himself lose touch as he struggled to breathe. Everything spun in his mind, then went black.

His father told him later he had fainted right there underneath her. An ambulance had taken him, but had left his mother where she hanged.

She had not left a note.

a flasher saves the day

Depression weighed my head down and barely let me drag my feet as I tried to jog. I needed some endorphins. Bad.

Ahead of me a pug wandered aimlessly beside the busy road, dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I shuffled lethargically to it’s rescue and picked it up. It had a collar on but I found no owner in sight. However, a nearby gate was ajar and a car in the driveway so I approached the house to see if the pug had escaped from there.

Within seconds of knocking the door swung open and behind it stood a man wearing nothing but sunglasses, his member swinging like a pendulum from the force of the door opening. I struggled to look anywhere but directly at it. The dog was wriggling excitedly so I held it in my outstretched arms and willed the owner to take it so I wouldn’t have to bend down.

He did take it and, after declining his invitation inside, thanked me profusely as I hurried away from his doorstep. I giggled, then laughed hysterically while I tried to pick my feet up to jog. Once I had calmed down my head was a floating balloon and I ran for 30 minutes with a beaming smile on my face.

On my way back to my house the poor little pug was out on the footpath again. I left him there that time.

we’re all prostitutes

I’m not sure why I agreed to a third date with Mike. He wasn’t attractive but for some reason he had it in his head that he was. Mike also thought he was hilarious, which he was not. He took me to nice places though, the kind I couldn’t have afforded on my measly bar tender wages. And despite having hairy knuckles and a tendency to swear a lot he treated me like a lady.

It hit me half way through dinner that, no matter how good the food was, it came at too high a price when he handed me a small box. My face dropped.

“What is it?” I inquired, trying to force a somewhat excited tone.

He said nothing and waited for me to open it.

Inside was a pair of stunning quarter (or so) carat stud earrings. I sighed a heavy sigh.

“They’re amazing, Mike!” I said and drew him close for a restaurant appropriate thank you kiss. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“I’ve booked a room at the Plaza for us tonight” he whispered to me, trying to look romantic but pulling off a weird sort of half asleep look.

My reaction was not what I had anticipated when I had thought about the prospect of sex with Mike. At the start of the night it was absolutely off the table. But now?

“That sounds amazing” I smiled, and reached for our bottle of champagne.

By the end of our meal I was drunk enough not to care too much about Mike’s annoying personality or beer gut, and we went to the Plaza and had some pretty unremarkable sex. He fell asleep not long after he was finished and having no intention of waking up next to him, I snuck out of the hotel.

We never went on another date and I wear those earrings daily. My flatmate asked me if I felt bad about it and I told her honestly, no. She frowned at me then went upstairs to have sex with her boyfriend because she needed him in a good mood before she told him she’d scratched his car trying to parallel park.

I suspected he would be getting a blow job.

the coma

Silently she sits, never leaving the bed, his tiny, fragile hand resting limp in her own. All she wishes for is a squeeze, a wiggle or a flinch of an eyelid. Machines and tubes keep her little boy breathing. Fat tears freely fall, crashing heavy as her heart to the floor as she stares at him.

Fixates on him.

Looking for something she wills to find but can not see.

Her husband is at her back, resting a palm on her shoulder. The weight is too much and she swipes herself away. His touch is toxic. His presence unbearable.

It was an accident. An accident.

Perhaps if her little boy wakes she could fight to forgive her husband. She wants to believe it, but somehow is certain that day will never, ever come.

a crush on my son’s friend

This story is inspired by the headline “Sexting mum ordered off the web” from the ninemsn Australia news website.

My heart is racing, I can’t  take my eyes off his text.

“Y dnt u pxt them 2 me? ;)”

My husband is snoring. Good. He is a ridiculously heavy sleeper. Once our smoke alarm went off and he didn’t even stir as I got up to turn it off and check on the kids. The rat bags were making toast.

I locate the photos in question on my phone. I’m completely naked, draped over my bed. Nothing too lewd, hopefully sexy. One is only of my tits. I’ll let him see that one first.

Blood thuds in my ears, among other places.  I glance at my husband again. No movement.

Send. Send. Send.

I giggle to myself then wait nervously for a reply. Ten whole minutes pass.

He doesn’t like it, does he? I frown, then start to panic, I’ve made a huge mistake!

My phone lights up.

“Wow ur so hot Ms B”

Thank. God.

“Aw you’re sweet” I reply ” Tomorrow when you get home from school I want one of you. Make sure you’re rock hard for me baby”

Let’s see what he’s packing.

Perhaps that’s a bit too far. But my god, he’s so gorgeous! And incredibly mature for 16.  My son bought him home a fortnight ago after school so they could work on something or other for science. He flirted with me, not outrageously, but enough to make me well aware of his interest. I was flattered.

Crushes develop so quickly, don’t they?

And for now I guess it’s so far, so harmless.

the night I hit and ran

I’d had a couple of bourbons to try and calm down. They didn’t work. I missed Quaaludes. The compulsion to rush home was too strong. I just had to yell and scream at  her. And remind her exactly where she stood.

A light drizzle fell on my windscreen. How annoying. I wanted an earth-shaking, ear-splitting, nerve-rattling storm.  Not bloody spittle.

Then it flitted into the corner of my eye. A fixed mouth, a frozen stare. It cracked my windscreen and went over the roof of my car. My brakes locked and I skidded to a stop.

A twisted heap in my rear-view mirror.

Blonde hair glowing under street-light.

3 deep breaths.

2 kilometers to my house.

1st gear.

After that I stayed within the speed limit.