Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Janet

That bitch was over two hours late. We had specifically made reservations at the Uber Cafe, one of the hippest and most elegant restaurants in the city. A lone musician was all that was left of the jazz band. He played a tenor saxophone in a quick succession of rolling notes that seemed to melt together, like the remains of the candle in front of me had melted into its waxen puddle.

My eyes were cloudy in the dim lighting of the restaurant, and I felt the need to urinate. I got up, hoping that if she came in, she would talk to the maitre d'hotel.

A moment later, as I emerged from the gentlemen's room, there she was. I tried to muster up some civility, as I was long past rage.

"Janet," I crooned in a low tone. "I'm sure there must be some reason--"

"Shhhh." Jan placed her hand over my lips. I had to admit that it felt good. "Honey," she continued. "I am so sorry that I am late. I had a car accident. It is rather minor, but it unfortunately delayed me for some time. . ."

"So, was there much damage?" I asked, politely.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INSENSITIVE?!" she stage-whispered at me, indignantly. "You didn't even ask me if I was all right!" Her face was twisted into a mask of rage.

"I'm sorry." I said. "It's just that we agreed to meet two hours ago. If this were an isolated incident--"

"WHAT? NOW YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME?" she was almost shouting at me in her "discreet" stage whisper. She grabbed my hand, and practically dragged me out to the parking lot. "My jacket. . ." I pulled at her hand.

"COME ON!" She pulled on my hand. She showed me a large dent on the side of the car. "The bastard that hit me-- well, I'm sure it wasn't his fault -- but he hit me and didn't even stop. I was almost here, too. I had to have the policeman run his license plate in order to track him down. HE is going to see ME in court." Her face was desperate.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, honey -- that's too bad." I said as sincerely as I could.

"You don't sound sorry. . . Can't I get just a little sympathy, here? You don't need to be such a bastard about it--" It was clear that she had begun one of her little tirades. "Don't you see? I'm completely helpless-- completely at your mercy. I need you to care -- care for me. All I ask is for just a little sympathy, maybe a kind remark --"

"Oh, honey, I am so sorry this happened." I tried, again.

"Why are you interrupting me? First, you make me feel bad, and then you interrupt me?" I could see tears in her overly large, blue eyes. She was so beautiful. I just wanted to-- but she would just get angry with me if I mentioned it. Her long blonde hair hung in a shiny broad wave, covering one of her now red-rimmed eyes. The curve of her cheek was so smooth and fair.

"--and I would think that you could at least listen to me!" She choked out, past her tears of frustration.

"I'm sorry." I repeated.

"You never listen to me, why can't you just leave me ALONE!" She screamed.

"So what do you want from me, right now?" I asked. I knew this game all too well. She would continue berating me until I lost my temper, and then she would play "poor little me." Maybe I could short circuit it, this time. Before she could reply, I raised my voice at her.

"LISTEN. THIS ACCIDENT IS JUST A MINOR THING. THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE WORLD. LOOK AT YOURSELF. YOU ARE JUST FINE. IT IS CLEAR--"

"Why can't I get any sympathy?" She looked at me, pleadingly. "I don't understand why I can't get any sympathy? I've been waiting all week for just a little affection, a little love--"

I lost it-- just like both she and I knew I would.

"Why don't you just go and get fucked, LITTLE GIRL! I'm not your FUCKING NURSEMAID. Every FUCKING day something goes wrong for you, you BITCH! It NEVER ends! It's just one crisis after another!" I walked away from her, back into the restaurant. She ran after me.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yelled, as she followed me into the restaurant. "AND NOW YOU'RE EMBARASSING ME, MAKING A SCENE!" she yelled, as she followed me. I grabbed my jacket.

"Do you need a ride?" I asked her, with ice in my voice, as I settled my bill.

"YOU ARE JUST A COMPLETE BASTARD!" she yelled at me.

I walked out of the restaurant. I figured I'd go home--at least that way I would get some peace. I opened my car door.

"I'll talk to you, later." I said, by way of dismissal.

"Are you blowing me off?" Janet said, incredulously. "I can't believe it. You are such a COMPLETE bastard!"

"My ears are tired. I'm going home." I said. I sat down in my car. I pushed her hand off of the car door so that I could close it. I started the engine of my car. I backed out of the parking space, and drove off. I left her, standing there next to her scratched car. An hour later, I got home. Of course the answering machine was blinking, but I restrained myself from checking the messages. The phone started ringing. I turned off the ringer, and let the answering machine pick it up.

"Mark. . . This is Janet. . . I just wanted to give you the chance to apologize, again. I can't keep on--just taking it. I take it from you, and the people at work, and all of my friends. . . people are so mean to me. Don't I deserve to be treated better than this? I don't think I can take this, anymore--" I shut off the volume on the answering machine, and contemplated this state of affairs.

You know, I think that if it weren't for the pure lust, I wouldn't have anything to do with Janet. She was so beautiful. Her long, blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face in broad waves of glossy color, accented with a perfect blend of mascara and pale lipstick. Her head sat atop a long, elegant neck which connected to her small dancer's body. Her small shoulders framed only moderately-sized breasts, but her toned abdomen made them seem all the larger. Her firm ass rode high, not even making a crease where it met her thighs-- despite her oh-so-womanly hips--and her thighs extended into long, coltish legs that rivaled any teenager's. She was a knockout.

I felt like she was almost taunting me-- it was as if she was trying to trap me into this horrible arrangement. Yet, I couldn't quite muster the strength to leave her, when she told me she needed me, and looked at me with her bedroom eyes. I suppose that she wasn't that bad, really. I must have liked her, because I kept going back for more. I went over and turned the answering machine volume back on.

"--and my car is broken down. COME ON, MARK! PICK UP THE PHONE!--"

I listened to her message, wondering about this latest crisis.

"--I'm stuck in the warehouse district. I'm using a public phone near . . . Sparky's Auto Repair. It's closed--permanently, I think. I can wait around for a while, but it's really cold. . .Please help me."

I picked up the phone.

"Mark--is that you? I can't forgive you, for earlier, but come pick me up. I can't believe that you left me there. My car WAS working fine, but it stopped working, maybe because I was hit. I'm at the corner of 4th and 10th, near Sparky's Auto Repair. I'm cold--"

"I'll come pick you up." I said. I was still mad, so I hung up. Let her stew in her own juices, I say.

I went out to my car. I just had a tuneup, so it started perfectly, of course. I pulled smoothly out of my driveway. It would take me almost forty-five minutes to get to where she was, but fuck her. I wasn't going to speed just because she screwed up, again. God damn. What the hell was wrong with her? I sped up, a little, since the highway was nearly empty. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. God, I was so exhausted.

Finally, I pulled up next to a closed down gas station with a big sign with peeling paint: "Sparky's Auto Repair: we give good rates and insurance estimates." I didn't seem Janet around. I opened my door, and stepped out.

"Janet!" I called out. "Where are you, Janet?" I got nothing.

I walked over to the building which adjoined Sparky's. It was a large, abandoned warehouse. Janet's car was parked on the street nearby. She wasn't near her car.

"Janet!" I called, again. I walked over to the warehouse. The door seemed to be open to the cool night air. I faintly heard something echoing, inside.

"Janet!" I called out. I peered into the warehouse. It seemed to be pitch black. I could hear movement inside. It sounded like groaning. My adrenaline picked up. I could feel my shoulders trembling a bit. I looked around for a weapon, but all I could find was a small flashlight. I tested it against my hand. It worked. I crept slowly into the warehouse, until my eyes gradually adjusted to the nearly pitch black darkness. I heard the quiet mumbling of a few deep voices, and the groaning. What the hell?

As my eyes adjusted, the picture became clearer. Several shapes loomed in the dark. There was a figure in the middle of the warehouse floor, face down. A huge man appeared to be pumping his hips against the naked buttocks of the figure that was lying down. I could barely see, but the figure on the floor had distinctly feminine curves. "Janet?" I whispered cautiously. Neither the woman nor the large men around her heard me, apparently. I could hear the men mumbling to each other.

". . . oh god. . .uh . . .fuck me . . . uh. . . fuck my ass . . .uh . . . uh . . .uh. . ." She grunted.

Oh my God. She was enjoying it, the masochistic bitch. I slunk along the wall, closer so that I could see what was going on. As I crept into the shadows, I could see Janet and the figure of a man in the moonlight which filtered in through the open door to the warehouse. An enormous, muscular man straddled her ass, his penis alternately glistening in the pale light as he thrust in and out from between her ass cheeks. He pulled his dick out, and walked around to her front. With his back to me, it was still clear what he was up to. I could hear a slurping sound as he kneeled in front of her face.

". . . suck it, you bitch. . ." The man's voice was very deep. He grunted one last time in orgasm, them he seemed to notice my presence behind him.

"Hey, Sparky," he said casually. "Just another Saturday night special. Want some? She doesn't take much convincing. "

I grunted. "uh, uh."

"Whatever. Just stay the hell out of our way."

I heard a small voice pipe up. "You're not going to rape me again, are you? Please don't rape me again. I don't think I can take any more rape. Please don't rape my ass. Don't hit my ass. Don't fuck my ass really hard. . ." This wasn't my Janet.

Another man fished his penis out from his pants, fumbling in the darkness.

"My turn," he said. "You're going to take it in-the-ass-again-bitch." He didn't seem to be able to muster much enthusiasm. I could see as he played with his flaccid penis, trying to stimulate an erection. Finally, it seemed to be hard enough. Without ceremony, he sat down on the back of her thighs, and carefully inserted his cock between Janet's ass cheeks. He pushed his dick in.

"GOD DAMM! You're fucking tight for already had the shit fucked out of you!" He muttered. As I watched, he started pumping his hips. Before he could even get a rhythm, I saw him grunt in orgasm. "Jesus! What a tight ass--you've got to try this, Mojo."

Mojo stepped out from the shadows. I wasn't even sure how many men were in this room, but Mojo didn't even look like a man. He was huge, with a shaggy mane of hair, maybe Samoan -- as best as I could tell in the almost non-existent light. He was buck naked, except for something hanging around his neck. All of the other men didn't seem to want to be naked. He had an unmistakably enormous, erect penis. He settled down behind Janet like a dog finding it's place to rest. He pulled on something underneath Janet -- a rug or something-- so that she slid back, somewhat. Her thighs were spread wide, and her rump was still pointed at the rafters. The Samoan slipped behind her, spreading her thighs even wider, and pushed his rod into her. I could hear a wet-squishy sound as he pressed himself into her. Then he began to pump.

I watched as he began to thrust, harder. Janet started to grunt rhythmically, in time with his thrusts. I slipped a hand down inside my pants, and fondled my penis inside my pants. I was getting hard watching this. I stroked my penis, stretching the skin over the sensitive membranes underneath. It felt so good. I looked around, but I figured that no one could see me.

I opened my fly, slowly and soundlessly. Meanwhile, the big Samoan kept pumping away. I heard Janet crying.

"Oh god. It hurts. . . it's so big. Fuck my ass with your horse cock. . .you horse cock in my ass. . . fuck me. . .oh god oh god ohGodohGod--" Janet sobbed. She wailed and cried. "I'm cumming. . . oh, NO! NO-no-no-no-no! Yes! Oh God, yes!"

I spurted my semen, which plopped in big drops to the floor. The Samoan kept on fucking her, like some sort of rape machine -- and she loved it. "Oh god. . . uh . . .uh . . . uh . . . uh. . ." she grunted in time with his thrusts.

I flipped on my flashlight.

"What the fuck, Sparkey? Shut that fucking flashlight off!"

I sprayed the room with the blinding glare of the flashlight. Janet continue grunting with the slap! slap! of Mojo, was it?, fucking her. I pointed the flashlight at my own face, so that Janet could see that it was me. Then I pointed my flashlight at her naked, writhing body.

The sound of her grunts carried well in the darkness, but when I focused the beam of the flashlight on her -- she only stared up at me, silently, with her heart-shaped face. She lay face down, almost prone against the carpet, as the large Samoan continued fucking her from behind, his hips slapping resoundingly against her ass, his huge penis thrusting between her buttocks.

As I rotated the beam of my flashlight around the cavernous room, I could see that there must have been at least twenty others--wordlessly waiting. One man was unabashedly masturbating , nearly naked, crouching nearby. Another man stepped back into the darkness before I could see his face clearly--but it was clear that he was also waiting, patiently and assuredly, for his turn.

Finally, I shut off my flashlight, and turned to walk away. Without looking back, I strode towards the moonlit silhouette of the open doors of the warehouse. The normally comfortable leather seats were no consolation to me as I closed the driver's side door of my car in resignation--she was no longer of my world. There was little use in waiting for the inevitable. I started the engine, and quietly drove on to the highway.