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Shorts
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| Third Time Lucky | |
| By blogbrush | ||||||||
| 04 January 2008 | ||||||||
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Sex in the future. "So Mr. Arkle... I see you've chosen our 'ErotiSinth 4' programme. Congratulations. ErotiSinth 4 is our flagship product - and the most sophisticated Virtual Sinthisization experience available in the world today. Have you used VS - or VR - before?" My knee is going. The whiteness of this room, bleached like a model's teeth. I look at the floor. "VR...?" "'Virtual Reality' Mr. Arkle... it was the original Virtual technology, a cruder, older version of what we offer here. The suites looked similar, but the experiences it offered were much more... superficial. I don't mind telling you how proud we are of the great technological leaps we have made since then. However, we can't offer our services to just anybody." Inside my right pocket is an envelope containing twenty thousand pounds. I squeeze it inside my clammy palm; squeeze, then release, squeeze, then release... "I have more then enough with me. The money isn't a problem." "Well, I'm afraid that it is not simply a case of money, Mr. Arkle. We have to screen all of our applicants until we are confident that they are mentally and emotionally suitable for the Virtual Sinthisization experience... After all, Mr. Arkle, this won't be like watching a pornographic film or playing a pornographic computer game... you will be fully immersed in what happens to you, fully exposed to the emotional strains it may present." I don't understand. It's just sex, that's all it is. Just sex. People are doing it right now, everywhere. "I don't understand" The man moves forward and I look at him for the first time. Scattered patches of ginger hair. Skull seasoned with freckles. "Let me put it another way for you Mr. Arkle..." Eyes like walnuts… red dots roaming in the centre.. "... most people never realise their wildest sexual fantasies, let alone fulfill them..." Lips like crinkle-cut chips. "... many people do not have the kind of sexual background that would prepare them for what ErotiSinth offers, which is the complete exposure of their sexual desires. You may be shocked..." No neck. No neck! I look back down. My mouth and throat are dry and clotted. "I'm afraid I have to be rather forward with you now Mr. Arkle and ask some slightly embarrassing questions. It's standard procedure, and completely confidential. Ok?" I nod. "How many... sexual partners ...have you had?" My heart thumps and DUH-DUH (...WOOOOOOOSH....) my ears fill with blood. "Two." And it's not a lie it's not a lie I've had two two sexual partners two and I hated them both. "I see. And would you describe these experiences as thorough?" "I don't understand" "Well Mr. Arkle, I'm asking you how often you and you're sexual partners had sex." "Twice" DUH-DUH "Twice with them both?"DUH-DUH "No, twice all together, once with both of them." I was only sixteen. I hadn't even kissed anyone, not even a kiss. Not such much as a peck. I came home one night and my parents were entertaining guests. It didn't happen often. There was my Mum, my Dad, my Uncle Leonard, my Aunty June, my Dad's friend Mike from work, his wife Julia, and one other woman I vaguely recognized from photographs my Mum had shown me of her university days. She was introduced but I didn't catch her name. Didn't even look at me. They all sat around drinking wine. From upstairs I could hear voices, individual at first, a murmur rising, a conclusion reached, then a cacophony of respite, praise, laughter, all at different pitches, different sounds. It was irritating, that's all. I couldn't concentrate on my book. Couldn't get lost. Keep being dragged back in by their fevered chatter. Eventually they began leaving, couple by couple, my Uncle and Aunty first, then Mike and Julia. All was suddenly silent. Then the crying started. Huge, aching sobs, scaling the walls and filling our house. I tip-toed downstairs. My Dad was asleep on the couch, face-down in Trivial Pursuit board, yellow wedge stuck to his chin. The crying was in the kitchen. I knocked and entered. "There, there" my Mum was saying, "He's just a prick Shelia, a fucking arsehole". The woman had her head burying into my Mother's chest. I could only see a mop of curly black hair and her broad back, shaking. My Mum saw me and held a finger to her lips, then slowly came round to lead me out of the room. "Stop Louise. It's ok." said the woman, throwing her hair back, sniffing, turning to us with a smile. "You don't have to sent the boy out". My Mum stepped back, unsure what to do, and sat back down. "How are you Michael?" the woman asked me. I was naked from the waist up. Her eyes danced unsteadily over me. I had never seen anyone so drunk. "Good thank you I just needed a glass of water" I said, going over to the tap. "Sorry if I've disturbed you" she said "I'm a little upset about my Husband Michael. He's been fucking around, with girls not much older then you." My Mum looked uncomfortable at this and tried glaring at Shelia, but she didn't notice. Then she tried looking at me like I should leave, but Shelia was looking at me so intently I froze. "Not much older then you Michael, and he's been doing it for years... why are men all bastards Michael? Can you tell me?". I couldn't think of an answer so I just blurted out "I'm not a bastard" and she laughed loudly, with her head thrown back then stopped suddenly and looked at me again. "I guess you're not Michael. I'm sorry." then burst out crying again. My Mum leapt immediately to comfort her, motioning that I should leave. I took my glass of water to bed and read some more and then slept. In the middle of the night I heard my door open and someone creep in. I knew it was Shelia. I knew straight away it was her. Before I'd opened my eyes I felt her hand in my hair and her stale, heavy breath on my face. I opened my eyes and she kissed me, softly at first, and then more passionately. I was surprised but I kissed back, trying to copy what she did, exploring her stale mouth with my tongue, trying to enjoy my first kiss, trying to make it a success. "Did you like that?" she asked. I nodded. "Move over" she said, so I did. Standing shakily she held herself up by the corner of my bedside cabinet. I could see her silhouette against the soft moon-light through my curtains. She pulled her sweater over her head and caught it on her neck. Her massive tits wiggled there half out-side their bra as she struggled to free herself. When she had finally did she pulled her socks and skirt off, falling about everywhere, then crawled into my bed and started kissing me again, this time running her hands down my chest and stomach and then down into my pants. I gasped and she whispered in my ear that I mustn’t worry and asked did I like what she was doing. I couldn’t tell but I nodded so she continued. My dick was like a rock in her hand and she was moving it up and down roughly, too rough to enjoy and then she was on-top, leaning over me, trying to guide me into her, me clueless, wondering if this was sex or foreplay or what. When she found the right spot she eased herself down and I felt a shot of pleasure and fear coarse through me and slap me so that my mind cleared for the first time and I realised what was happening, that I was losing my virginity, losing it like this, losing it to her, her awful breath upon me, her saggy, loose flesh falling through my fingers, my hands roaming without knowing what they were looking for. I lay there, back still as a board, trying to decipher the sensation, trying to enjoy what was happening, as she bounced harder and higher on my dick, wheezing and panting like a pig, her eyes shut hard, like she was trying to block me out. Harder, and higher, and faster and then out all together: too hard, too high, and then down on to the wrong spot, somewhere between there and her arse. My dick ruptured, bending like a miss-hit nail. After that I only remember screaming, the look on my Father's face, the sound of my Mum shouting at Shelia, Shelia tittering and falling over by the stairs... “I see. Mr. Arkle… please don’t be offended when I ask this but, were these women prostitutes?” Six years later, working as a library assistant in town. Nothing but old people, old people and kids all day, the kids wanting left alone and the old people wanting to talk. You could smell Jennifer before you saw her, five shelves away, you could smell her. Everyone working there would leave the desk like a sinking ship to put books away or check up on the children at the computers: anything to avoid being the one who got trapped by her today, to have to stand and listen to her as the smell make you sick and you had to try not to breath through your nose. She had whiskers in her chin and hairs on her legs and glasses that made her mad eyes huge. She talked for hours about her husband: gibberish, about how he was away on business, how he would be home any day to take her out dancing. There was no husband. Books on Egypt. That’s all she ever wanted. The same twelve rotated all the time. When I saw her on the way home and she asked me to come inside and help… I could only think about how bad her house must smell, how I would hide it from her, then when she put her hands on my waist, it was the first time anyone had touched me in as long as I could remember… warm hands, rubbing under my shirt… I didn’t say another word and I kept my eyes closed the whole time… DUH “No. Not prostitutes.” “Ok then. Mr. Arkle… are you certain you want to go ahead with this? We offer other programmes… group fantasies, gay experiences, simple voyeur simulations in which…” I take the money out of my pocket and put it on the table. The old farts eyes light up like. “Follow me Mr. Arkle. We’ll get you suited up right away.” Some woman is plugging me in to the thing, strapping my arms into synthetic sleeves with wires coming from it that flop onto the floor. She puts something into my mouth and tell me to bite down. I try to look at her but she ignores me, her eyes never going near my face. My knee is still going, still pumping like a piston. It hasn’t stopped in days. DUH She holds it down with her arms to strap it in. The energy goes to my toes and they shake there, underneath my shoes. My teeth are grinding. She walks away, out of the room, and the lights go off. I close my eyes.
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