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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Laurie Slays Abel
Date: Sun, 13 Aug 2000 03:10:06 -0400
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From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel
http://www.taximurders.com/
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher
1069to1073Xredboots0877x
RED BOOTS AND BLUE STONES
Laurie Slays Abel
Home at Last: August 29, 1992
"Can we ever know the end?" -- Laurie Fallon
Laurie Fallon 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 her teeth, she
dug them into shaft as he pushed his cock through the wall
into her mouth. "Easy," Laurie said, hardly able to speak.
Accepting it for what it would be, Laurie swam with Abel's
cock rocking it between her mouth and imaginary razors. 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.
2.
FUCKING ABLE 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 my weapon of choice.
How easy death makes its daylight.
3.
ORGASM END
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 or a pathologist
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. Nothing.
Not content, wanting to know inside his skin, Laurie stared
at the brown stains on his teeth while simultaneously tracing
the ridge of his nose. She played with the fat on his ass
finding more of it than she had suspected.
Although appearing reverent, Laurie opened his mask as an
object left behind that was both dangerous and beautiful. She
pissed on him watching on the pee ran off his mouth and onto
the floor. Squatting there, she played with her clit finding
it quite pleasurable, wishing she could leave some darker and
more obvious for the Cops to keep track of and mark as
evidence in their notebooks.
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 it
up into his ordinary spectacular erections. They say bad men
are not hung. He proved otherwise. Weak men can have huge
cocks and great men nothing. Size is meaningless Laurie
thought, but then she opened another miracle taking a glass
rod she inserted it into his dick, thinking of it exactly as
that, and when it was stiff she smashed it wishing he could
feel it all. Laurie suddenly stopped fondling cock and body
parts when she realized it would be soon stored in jar on a
shelf until it thoroughly rotted. Formaldehyde doesn't keeps
nothing fresh and when the flesh held in that suspended
animation is exposed it becomes the mush that only death can
show up as a floating object in the ordinary space that the
absence of love propagates.
Not content with the after taste of watery copper salted like
stale semen, Laurie searched her in complete memory for
another man with unlimited appetites. She would search for
him immediately. In the glow of her ascendancy, she saw Henry
as less than perfect. I know why I want a young man she
thought, but then Henry is all ages. That is what his
publicity advocates now, Laurie laughed at how fickle she has
been. Wonders if she should change, but just so completely
happy that she would soon be free to at least breathe outside
the rigors of this blue stone house. Yes, I know many are
available, but few would be suitable.
ESCAPE
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. She sighed when she
felt his cold skin playing with his cock one more and last
time. No, I won't cut it off. That would be tedious. No, I
will cut out his heart, and keep that pickled with my
journals as testimony. Laurie's temporary refuge darkened in
daylight. Her walls grew plain and smelled ironically of
fresh paint and varnish. Abel was dead. Laurie should not
have worried. Maybe Laurie would tell the story a new way,
after a time, allow Abel to live. Laurie would realize she
could not build a life on suffering.
Who says, so, you Laurie lifted her voice to me the narrator.
Go fuck yourself, she said. Who the fuck needs you, asshole.
FACT:
Laurie Slays Abel but did not murder him She was his victim
and must be allowed a certain opportunity for revenge. She
just wants to savor the moment of his death, knowing she
still lived.
Covered in Abel's blood, Laurie drank from the tap water
before carefully dissecting his heart and part of a lung from
his chest.
4.
NOT AN EXIT
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. Laurie was of
course wrong.
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.
Is the dream that acts in the present real or fictional,
virtual or physical?
Laurie considered these ideas, and laughed to herself.
Driving away in Abel's white Porsche, leaving his mutilated
corpse behind to rot into plastic on the living room floor,
Laurie fingering the wet and heat of Abel's still warm heart.
He was her token for escape. It feels like a warm cunt, she
realized, saying the phase Abel has a cunt aloud. 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 giggled, 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, when the suffering was long past,
assuming she lived until tomorrow, Laurie would never
remember her doubts. She would keep the positive inflections
of her experience at this moment. Only human.
Why do you, Laurie, speaking to the author again, want to
fuck my life up. Get out of here. It is good now, I am out,
and maybe you can find a way to fuck me too. That is what you
want after all.
No, nothing changed. Laurie no longer held as a captive of
Able and Lilith fled on the wings of hang glider into the
wedge like wave of the western sea.
Laurie believed writing this all down made is so as that fuck
Picard like to rant.
Is fiction an illusion? Can the characters we created become
the next generation of humanity as life not delusion?
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.
Yes, as the author, I love her. Do you blame me. She is my
daughter and my artifice. She is the unknown, unknown spell
we unleash when we sit down and mark words into poems and
stories.
Yes, I am breaking great rules here. The Internet does it for
me. There are no longer rules but those that art sustains.
If I am wrong history will find me foolish. If I am correct,
as I believe, the light on my future value as a guide to this
time will settle not in books but in media yet to be
designed. I am truly a person of both centuries.
Will you shut the fuck up Sean. This is Laurie. You are
stealing my fucken space. Am I ungrateful. You bet I am, so
live with it mother fucker, but I will kiss you gently if you
let me lounge in your mind while you make me even more
beautiful.
5.
MORNING AFTER PILL
Did Laurie feed it backward to Abel? Will he become pregnant
in the sequel?
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, 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.
Menstruation returned, and Laurie wakened spoke that line to
herself, letting her fingers strip her self of Abel even as
returned to force his child inside her skin.
Laurie realized that Abel was never a dream.
FUCKING WHILE ON THE RAG
Smearing the blood against her inner thigh, Laurie imagined
how Henry loved to suck cunt when his women bled fucking her
between the leaves of his legs letting the blood stain him.
Henry told Laurie that 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 orgasm, and theories described he passed out
of her skin into his own plenitude.
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. Disorder rising as
art's accomplice became calm or at least reflected a past
status that was almost earned.
History is sometimes not kind to conservative ideologies.
Revolution seems more spectacular, but often change is an
illusion we keep locked up out of harm's way.
That is why war may seem more popular than peace. For
soldiers who have fought hand to hand or dropped an arsenal
on the ants below their bomb sites, nothing but the blood of
the books made resolved. War sucks. Simply said, and now, I
know it too Henry, Laurie spoke and was complete for a time.
Yes, Laurie came triumphant closing her legs on her arm
hiding the ordinary knife of her dream for escape.
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?
Fuck No, CHRIST TINA. I just want to get laid.
Yes, she did have limits. What were they? You will have to
ask her yourself. There were no obvious answers, but Laurie
promised Henry, if she saw him again that she would show him
the layers of her mind, but first he must suffer her to be a
hermit for a year.
Perhaps I will spend a year in prison. Why not. I am not
innocent. Who the fuck is? Certainly not the author. He wants
my skin inside his, and for that I am pleased.
No, I will not promise you the same escape, answered the
author and Henry at once time allowing them a moment to dream
of a double stuff with her as the strawberry divided into
illusion and fact.
How can we do anything alone CHRIST MOTHER? We share the
same name? How can we even kiss, Henry when Abel plots
the acts to answer some of his loneliness.
Henry, I love you. This is Laurie. You are the only reality.
Now, enough of this, go fuck yourself. I am not currently
available thanks to your madness. You got me in this mess.
Get me out?
Yes, I promise.
What?
You think any of us -- fictional or actual -- can truly know
before hand how as my grandmother once said, before death,
it will all work out.
_______________
I have posted many stories from TxM6. One reader suggested I put together
an index. I think that is a good idea. I welcome responses from readers
of TxM6. Write me seanfarragher@msn.com
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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