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Subject: {ASSM} Hyperfiction: From TxM6, Red Boots
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Date: Mon, 13 Mar 2000 01:10:22 -0500
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RED BOOTS AND BLUE STONES
By Sean Farragher from Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction
http://www.taximurders.com
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Thomas Farragher All Rights Reserved.
Discovery: knowing the end of the phrase, "the end."
Home at Last: August 29, 1992
Laurie, wearing nothing but her dead mind and one red leather boot, stood in
front of the mirror washing her face and massaging the ends of her fingers
endlessly.
Bloodstains ran as rivers into the middle of the sink swirling closed.
Clean, I love it, she thought.
Laurie watched her eyes open and shut marking the surface of the mirror with
her breath and then quickly writing and erasing Abel and Lilith's name in
the steam.
Carefully, on the surface of the mirror, she imagined a thick cock growing
from inside his name dividing her tongue from pallet.
Restoring the details of his face, she anticipated the sequence how she had
cut out Abel's heart. First, Abel stood in the center of the room lifting
his cock like raw meat. She loved how it curled and how comfortable he felt
holding it in his own hands.
Thrusting his cock at Laurie's face, he snapped it against her half open
mouth, pushing it between her closed lips to force the length of it inside
until she choked. Laurie resisted. Biting him hard with, she dug them into
shaft as he pushed his cock through the wall.
Easy, Laurie said to him, though unable to speak.
Accepting it for what it would be, Laurie swam with Abel's cock rocking it
between her mouth and the razors of her teeth. How perverse I am, Laurie
thought. I am his prisoner but he is mine too. I do not want him, but I want
to him to share my grief.
Laurie resisted Abel until the end, and he pushed at her face until she
could not speak. The more he fought to work it into her, the more she wanted
him, and the more she resisted.
Neither Able nor Laurie could quit.
Searching the motion of her gray eyes, desperately, Abel waited for one sign
of one end before he let his semen bubbled on her lips and chin.
More glue than come, it was thick and obvious.
Fucking Abel into Death
When Abel came in my mouth, when his hard breathing rasped loudest, I pulled
a thin table knife from inside my red boot. Striking him furiously under the
ribs ripping out the blood and sinew from inside his chest, I pushed harder
and with each stroke desperately, ranging higher into his chest, I knew the
relief of fucking death and had no available mercy.
The blood ran down my arms pooling into the cuffs of my blouse. Only my
right hand stained red, and the left drove me home hiding Abel's heart in my
deepest coat pocket.
As he died, I climbed up and over his back pressing upon him the force and
strength of my legs and arms, using rage and patience as one weapon.
End of Orgasm
Five minutes after Abel's heart had stopped, leaning on her arms, half on
the floor and a soft chair, Laurie examined Abel's face and body parts as a
mortician would a specimen.
Pushing his face in, pulling it, probing it, she opened it like a box,
looking down inside her lover and antagonist's throat. What could she hope
to find.
Disease? Prophecy? Maggots?
Not content, wanting to know more, Laurie stared at the brown stains on his
teeth while simultaneously tracing the ridge of his nose. Although she
appeared reverent, Laurie opened his mask as an object left behind that was
both dangerous and beautiful.
Fingered Abel's cock, she extending it, sucking it she drew out fluid she
imagined was death's semen. Laughing at herself when it did not harden, she
became frightened when she imagined what she would have felt had her mouth
worked opened another miracle.
Laurie suddenly stopped fondling it when she realized it would be soon be
stored in jar on a shelf until it thoroughly rotted.
Not content with the after taste of watery copper salted like stale semen,
Laurie searched for another man with unlimited appetites. She would find
many but none would be suitable.
Searching for the keys to Abel's car that she knew he kept inside the top
drawer of his desk, Laurie planned her escape. Suddenly, she feared Abel and
Lilith again. They must return interrupt her impatience. Perhaps he did not
die. Fearing it, Laurie searched for Abel's cadaver heart and was glad when
she found it cold and rotting in the kitchen.
Abel and Laurie's temporary refuge darkened in daylight. Their walls grew
plain and smelled ironically of fresh paint and varnish. Abel was dead.
Laurie should not have worried.
Every year he bought lottery tickets hoping his terrible luck would not
repeat.
Maybe she would tell the story a new way, allow him to live. Laurie must
have realized she could not collect on winning tickets unless she accepted
their lives?
Fact:
Laurie killed him but did not murder him She was his victim and was allowed
the brief pleasure of his fear while he died.
Covered in Abel's blood, Laurie drank from the tap water before carefully
dissecting his heart and part of a lung from his chest.
No Exit (apologies to Sartre)
Leaving Abel's blue stone house at 1099 River Road, breathing sunlight from
the wet grass surrounding the fortress, Laurie marked a bloodstain on the
decorated doorframe. She needed more evidence. She did not fear detection.
She expected that the world would want to know she had won. Sad fact: they
did not care, bud ironically, Abel did.
Opening the car door, Laurie drew a circle and a star in blood on the
window. Getting inside she rolled the window down shifting her mind and fact
the boughs and leaves of the maple reflected sunlight as a shimmering image
drawn into substance.
Driving away in Abel's white Porsche, leaving him behind to rot into plastic
on the living room floor, Laurie fingering like a cunt the wet and heat of
Abel's still warm heart. He was her token for escape.
Leaving the driveway much too slowly, Laurie slid and scraped first the left
and then right door of the car as she banged into the street just missing by
seconds a black and silver police car. He might have stopped her.
"Abel is dead," Laurie sang. He back in his grave, but his heart is missing.
How cruel, Laurie thought, if this all were a dream. Perhaps, life (dream or
not) foreshortens when we quit knowing the most complex parts as intuition
and not words written down.
After all, what we desire we rarely obtain. If we did, then nothing would
move. Can I be satisfied with an ordinary world of everyday motion?
What a rationalization for murder. Laurie resisted gloating. Ten, twenty
years later.
No, nothing has changed, and Laurie no longer held a captive of Able and
Lilith has fled on the wings of hang glider into the wedge like wave of the
western sea.
Laurie believed writing this all down that fiction is life's manipulation of
illusion. Nonetheless, in this rare dream, Laurie reversed Abel's life
transfiguring her own, absorbing part of his.
She did this honestly without doubt by sharing reasonable fears with mute
accomplices. Taking it inside her skin, she blessed the fugue of it with a
solo erotic dance that was no longer lonely.
Morning after Pill -- Did Laurie take it and feed it backward to Abel?
Abel sang in the bathroom where Laurie had dreamed he had bled to death.
Lilith rode her exercise bike cursing at the TV remembering how she and Abel
made Laurie fight for more not less sex last night.
Laurie slept in the conjugal bed of Able and Lilith held prisoner by the
pair one of her ankles fastened by silver links to a blue stall.
Naked, open, her will and cunt lips swollen and exposed, bloodstains had
dried inside both of Laurie's thighs. Reaching slowly down the subtle turn
of the inside curves of her thigh, knowing she will be beaten if discovered,
Laurie loosened her cunt matted with blood before separating the lips prior
to forcing her own orgasm.
Laurie knew the stain was menstrual. How unfair to have cramps when she
could not defend herself. Menarche had returned, and Laurie wakened spoke
that line to herself, letting her fingers strip her self of Abel even if he
were a dream.
Is that an oxymoron, Laurie laughed?
Smearing the blood against her inner thigh, Laurie imagined how Henry loved
to suck cunt during a woman's period.
He told me he imagined the period to be one mythical stop at the end of a
serial sexual sentence. Walking the lips of her sex, he eventually pulled
himself inside the lift and kick of her orgasm, and all theories done, he
passed.
Able, oh Abel, Laurie sighed, on the contrary. My sad ordinary killer hated
the devil's blood as he called it. How odd the confusion. When they discover
my condition, my sign of renewed breeding, Abel and Lilith will change with
my desire becoming the inside of my mind and will if I can stand it enjoin
passion as an experience and not an exercise.
Fuck it, Laurie thought. Leaning back, Laurie opening all of herself. No
longer concerned with discovery, she wanted more than suffering and orgasm.
Directing the dance of vulva and clit, now, Laurie imagined the clashes of
her orgasm as a corrupted symphony caught by surprise when the timpani
anticipated the conductor's intentional omission of sound and space and the
drive of a restored work made words out of notes and disorder seemed calm or
at least reflected past status.
Yes, Laurie came triumphant closing her legs on her arm hiding the ordinary
knife of her dream.
Marveling in prophecy, another discordant melody, Laurie remembered when she
was twelve how she thrust the head of a Barbie doll inside her cunt until
she tired of pretending.
Racing down to the bar, Laurie quickly seduced two men and one woman at once
wondering how her ass would take so much. When it stretched beyond the
boundary, she was relieved. Who would not be? Was Laurie frightened of
pleasure and needful of pain?
Yes, she did have limits. What were they? You will have to ask her yourself.
There were no obvious answers, but Laurie promised Abel that she would
answer him if he allowed her to be a hermit for the remainder of the year.
"No, I will not promise you the same," Laurie said. "How can I when we share
the same name?"
For more Taxi Murders
http://www.taximurders.com
for my poetry
http://www.farragher.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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