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Subject: {ASSM} from TxM6  Billy Reese and DeSade IV
Date: Tue,  8 Aug 2000 03:10:05 -0400
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http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon  (updated August 1, 2000)

TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher
1043Xfrom999XBillyResse&DeSade

III. Billy as Laurie Remembered Him (1972-1990)

Billy was sensual and hard, rough and tender. He was the kind
of man who inspired women to be bad which was OK in his
head.

"I like bad little girls," he always said, almost as a line;
he offered it as a kind of a warning tip to bar maids and
waitresses in the diners where he prowled. "I live," he said,
"where the bad girls work," he bragged. I want to be your big
Daddy, Laurie wrote, but, when he smiled the charm got ya
good."

At first, Billy seemed up front, honest, and without guile,
Laurie wrote. Later, you knew better, but caught, you made
excuses, postponed breaking it off, hoping to change him,
make him what you saw, when you first met him. The usual
bullshit.

We so suffer damn delusions. That is inhuman, and well, not
fully out of character, Billy liked to rock the boat, make
yes into no or finally a maybe. Billy publicly like many but
not all southerners of his time said Billy "hated niggers,"
but secretly he loved one, an older woman, Zulma, 36, and
daughter Carol, 14. The odd couples were close neighbors in
the trailer park where Billy, Laurie and kids lived.

Incidentally, Zulma was Helene's best friend too, and
although she kind of silly 'bout Billy, she didn't trust him
any more than most of the neighbors. Zulma didn't understand
why a classy woman like Helene took to this white trash boy.
My girl friend was born to better, this I know."

"Zulma's only woman I trust," the thirty-four year old Billy
told my mom Helene, then 31. When she said that openly to us,
she would add "that includes you, motherfuckers," pointing at
the eleven year old Ariel and Laurie who sat around the
kitchen table buttering white bread with mayonnaise and
peanut butter. "I know you suck his dick too." Mom, almost an
honors graduate from U of Florida liked to play the common
tart when she was drunk. Actually, that is the way I see her
now as well. She got lucky in her old age and married a
Doctor. Mom's set now," Laurie wrote in the margin of her
paper after it was returned with a big A and new pages of
praise written in red pencil all over both sides of the cover
page.

Generally, Billy avoided conflict, preferring the side step,
the feint, the back ward, down and dirty run away if
necessary I can get away with it, and I will not let myself
get hurt excuse for cowardice.

His chameleon nature was Billy's strong arm, Laurie
continued, when she looked back at her life with the step
father who charmed her out of her pants long ago.

One friend of Billy wrote Mama (what Laurie called her
mother) a letter shortly after Billy's death in prison. "I
used to suck the man off. He was as close to a lover as a man
can be in lock up. Billy ain't no queer, mind you, nor am I,
but the body has to do what it has to do, and we did each
other without any silly female stuff. We just fucked and
sucked and never kissed, you know what I mean. What I got to
say here is the truth, fuck it. You know as well as I do that
if all the fucken irate husbands, fathers, and mothers of
daughters had lined up at Billy's funeral, either here or in
Hell, the crowd would have filled the lower deck of Yankee
stadium or maybe the whole blessed ball park.

Billy was, Laurie thought, remembering how when he played
pool he concentrated on the balls as if they held the
permutations of his fate. The fucker believed it all, Laurie
laughed to herself as she continued the graffiti marginalia .
That's what got him sent up finally, Laurie thought. He
believed  the bad boy in him could control the flow of the
balls and make them do his bidding. When he lost, he would
simply say, "well I must have done something bad to that
bitch guiding them. She must have gotten tired of my fuck
ups."

Born right here in downtown Gainesville, in lockup, Billy was
the usual down and dirty crooked pool hustler who often had
his hands broken.

Considered by "well adjusted adults over forty," to be what
was once called an 'evil seed,' Billy lead an empty, non-
productive life, Laurie wrote. "The keepers of the ark,
including us, laugh at his life. Did we really not
understand, Laurie continued, what he meant and how he fucked
us kids up?

Social workers might mitigate or even excuse his behavior,
but they could have at least stopped him. They had their
chances. There were so many social workers investigating Mama
after the fire, we could have rented a big hall and collected
money from the folks who wished they could know the whole
show complete with super eight film of the kids fucking him."

They blame it on his battered and bruised exploitation by
first his Mother and then his father's sister, he called
affectionately, Mary Louisa. Billy often bragged that his
Aunt twenty years older, was his first piece of ass after his
Mama.

Billy did, given all influences, overtly use women and their
children until they were empty. As it turns out, these cop-
protector-husbands and fathers, usually exhausted these same
women, only they described it as a "supportive nuclear
family," or the laws, this society had woven from sundry
masks and myths protected youth and innocence at least for
the time being, Laurie wrote in bold felt tip pen, posted her
contrary quip to her own paper adding it to what Laurie
called her De Sade commentary.

Ironically, few of us are ever innocent, in a state of
nature, Laurie wrote after reading the quotation from Freud
on Jung.

I really loved that 18th century French Class, Laurie wrote
on the beginning of section two subtitled: The Loss of De
Sade Humanism?

I met De Sade with that French Professor. Sure I blew him.
That is what he wanted for an A. He was handsome and had a
nice Dick. I know better language, but here when I am gross I
should speak as a slut, don't you think. The French boy
reminded me of Billy. Rousseau is wrong, Laurie laughed.
Nature is very fucked up.

"We are also engaged in the survival of the fittest,' Laurie
wrote, and "therefore beyond any moral judgment." Give me
first Hobbes and the Darwin any day. Might even add that
bitch I love Rand. "There ain't no redemption," Laurie wrote
after the last lines of her paper.

Until now that is. Laurie remembering Billy wrote. He may
have abused me but he never raised a hand. I felt safer with
him than I did in a crowd on the subway.

When I worked the streets with Eddie my pimp, at 16, I wished
for men like Billy. I would fantasize about Billy when I was
sucking some old smelly cock pushed to the floor of some
fucked up cab or Cadillac.

When women loved Billy's "James Dean" charm, they turned
their backs on the seductive cameras recording only what they
needed (or was painfully obvious).

The women (or most of them) blindly accepted the recent
footage of Billy, as if it were 'the truth about man,' even
when their instincts warned that they could look harder to
find the million and one flaws in Billy's negative.

These women and girls usually (including myself in 76), and
this was what happened to my mother and myself fall in love
in spite of our unspoken and mostly unconscious reservations.
We accepted the scratches and too closely cropped edges of
the photograph as some irony of truth.

My mother, Laurie wrote, in that part of the paper devoted to
the explication of De Sade's character blamed her weaknesses
-- never Billy's. He was, after all, what you might call, an
under or over exposure, as Mama put it, neither sharp, nor
artistically out of focus. He Had the gift of lies, mischief
and truancy from childhood, and I loved him for it, but I was
worried that he could not follow the guide ropes out of hell.
As Billy got older and lost his good looks but not charm
Billy progressed into that nonchalant laziness, or, that I
don't give a fuck about any human being except myself creepy
attitude, Laurie wrote.

Billy was not, however, a sociopath, he felt remorse, guilt
for his actions. He understood right from wrong; but he
suffered from a character flaw, which made him more dangerous
than a more reasonable psychotic, Laurie laughed while she
marked up the finished paper with lipstick now drawing cocks
and cunts and thinking of the irony

Billy was predictable and just lazy. He just did not change.
Few of his companions understood that what was set down as a
child, was fixed, and rarely found that alternate life, bound
inside, that we were promised at birth, but mostly did not
receive. Billy, not understanding the injustice, felt anger,
but did not use physical violence towards anyone except
himself. What made him withhold physical anger. Beat up as a
child, he never believed he could ever fight back. Lucky for
us kids. Sexual and psychological abuse is bad enough.
Extreme physical abuse turns us into hatred. I never would
have survived it. Can't love now, Laurie wrote, but at least
I can smile once upon a time in America.

Billy, moreover, was a Grifter and used and faked tenderness
to get what he wanted and he rarely used physical threats to
intimidate even when he could have gotten away with it. He'd
kiss the ladies and then steal. If the women happened to have
young daughters, all the better, Laurie wrote. He would
seduce them too like he did me. I never resisted him. Mama
knew. She never said a word, but she knew. She saw it all. He
did it right in front of God and anyone who cared. The man
was only scared of other men.

Billy, snaking about, would read dirty stories to the
children, open his fly, and then get off.

Billy used charm not force. He killed slowly, over a
lifetime. He used, as was done to him, the illusion of his
goodly nature to provoke anger in others, or vengeance from
his marks, until he could explain his failures blaming them
on others, as a dark mask turned translucent, when the sins
exposed after the trauma, accident or tragedy played out
without contrary or useful internal protections.

All you needed was time, patience and a charming lie that was
exempt from easy exposure. "Billy was that impure man bound
to hurt and help, give pain and pleasure, but yet living and
dying while he was loved, but he never truly felt human
respect until those first years with H l ne, Laurie wrote in
her notes (but not in the paper) -- not even by the hookers
who joked about his thick snake of a cock. So long, they
said, stuff your throat to death, they joked. Little William
Reese Smythe hurt women by his failure to separate from them,
Laurie wrote in the last draft of her paper on De Sade.

Writing in the margin, Laurie added, scribbling it, "and by
binding his bitches to their infantile view of power. Guess
we got something in common.

Laurie often wrote the word "bullshit" in the margins of her
papers after she turned them in. Made her feel, she told
Henry once, long after Billy's death in 1990, "that I am
still there, but why the fuck should I want that."

Henry still in many ways the traditional college professor
had no answers. He just said simply, "we can't help how we
fuck up, you know. Just doesn't matter. What we do is. Be
proud of what you wrote. It is and was good. Why deface it?"

Billy generally "disguised his character flaws." When he
seduced girls, women trapping them in pregnancy, they did
what Billy expected, not that he ordered them, pushed them,
or was in any form a modern Dom, Laurie wrote. He got what he
desired by the implication that if they failed him, he would
leave them.

Laurie remembered Billy saying, "My mother left me." I was
seven. My father abused my backside every day he was sober
until he kicked the bucket when I was thirteen. He liked to
yell inside my face, call me stupid names, until I hit him
back, hoping I would run away for home. He kept saying,
repeatedly, I could not wait until the fucken Army gets your
ass. He never got that chance. My daddy died when I was
fourteen. I was too young for the Army, and too old for
foster care. That was not all of it."






More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/


Sean  Farragher

Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com

TxM6 Sites:
http://www.taximurders.com
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon
http://www.taximurders.com/paradisio   (forthcoming)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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