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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Queen of Diamonds Gets Fucked
Date: Sat, 23 Sep 2000 03:10:02 -0400
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Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction
http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00)
http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00)
http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon
http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 9/20/00)
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher.
1092X Queen of Diamonds Gets Fucked
Taxi Dispatcher: "Next up. Get the Bags,"
For seven years, waiting on the taxi stand Henry
dealt cards, swapping fables, while he held his
sacred Hudson Street taxi, Car #4, in place at
Ground Zero, Bridge Plaza North, Fort Lee, NJ.
Henry did not just play at cards; he dealt words
and bartered secrets with fellow highway-mavens
slash vagabonds. He listened fervently to
intricate commentary: who's fucked up, who's
stealing, and what driver had gotten lucky.
Henry didn't set himself apart, and he would
never believe that he was stuck in his cab and
deserved it. Always the optimist, he believed in
his luck. After all hadn't he survived fucked up
Nam. Hadn't he rolled over in so many slicks, he
could count the welds?
Once upon a year ago while playing solitaire,
waiting at the taxi stand, fourth or fifth up,
hoping against hope that he didn't get the
"bags" which was driver slang for a pickup at
the local A&P or another loony shopping call.
Concentrating, Henry looked down on the smooth
well worn borrowed cards: three of spades and a
four of hearts covered two black kings
unsteadily held on the crest of Henry's
opinionated thighs.
Suddenly, the queen of diamonds flipped across
the steering wheel falling between Henry's feet,
somehow caught the edge of the well between the
two front seats.
Sliding mysteriously, inside, hidden, tucked
under, unseen, until it popped free, months or
years later; finally resting under the ripped
front rug and the brake pedal. Wedged between
the hinge of the accelerator, and wires dangling
underneath the dashboard and taximeter, the card
collected the spirit of the taxi stand.
Henry had always intended to retrieve the
missing card, first when he had tossed it, but
also later. Anything happened, distracting
everyone's attention, and he didn't.
Over the months, the rains came followed by
snow, ice, and salt. Next three teenagers had a
soda fight in the cab spilling sodas and coffee,
Burger King wrappers and McDonald's added
accents.
Finally, after countless fares, arguments over
round trip drug runs, stiffs, luggage, car
washes, that tenacious queen of diamonds, dirty,
stained, head separate from body, reappeared.
Henry mounted the relic on his dashboard,
pressing edges to edges, joining neck to head,
and arm to shoulder. He had no idea why I kept
it, but Laurie when she noticed it, accepted it
as a talisman, a sign from a future passed.
Henry laughed. "You're stoned, aren't you?
"No, I though you saw that too," Laurie said,
surprised by hesitation.
"I do, but I often collect artifacts for
collage."
"Let me keep it for a while," she persuaded.
Not expecting refusal. "OK," Henry smiled, but
holding the torn playing card tighter, he
released it slowly, playfully not letting go,
knowing he couldn't win, and then softening his
posture when Laurie, knowing Henry, she caressed
first the inside of his lips with her finger,
pushing first one then two deeper into his
mouth, exploring his teeth, forcing his mouth to
devour her, and as she fucked he suckled hard
loosening his grip on the card, until she could
snatch it back crushing it with her tightened
fist.
"Don't worry, I'll give it back. Besides, ..."
The more Laurie kissed the more she wanted more
than a kiss.
These tall unnatural statues Henry and Laurie
had fused together on the shot gun side of
Henry's cab, kissed until she pushed him over,
then raising him up, rocking him down, swaying
to the jazz played radio like oak and pine
dancing, although no one could be certain, who
was the oak, the man or the woman.
Suddenly, Laurie handed Henry back the Queen of
Diamonds, "Here, write something on it, and
Henry wrote simply, "I will love you until death
do us part."
Laurie answered, "I will, writing on the margin
of her half of the card, what at first seemed
out of context, but considering what would
happen, appropriate: "your hands as your desires
are rough and perfect."
Henry repeated the phrases. Laurie kissed him as
tenderly as a child and as passionately as
Cleopatra. After embrace, pulling back, sighs,
Laurie, after reading what Henry had written
nine times nine, she felt that sudden dread
called "loss."
At first Laurie inexplicable ripped the queen of
diamonds asunder, tearing it open against its
old scar; so now they held half of the whole
queen now almost quartered. Hearing that
undeveloped howl from the Queen, Henry felt
uneasy, and accepted his half reluctantly
finally putting it away as Laurie's half
disappeared in her purse.
Laurie grim terrified held Henry. He said
nothing, held her hand, kissed her forehead. It
was as if Laurie saw the shards of a terrible
glass dream, and taking that hurt from the
splinters of the playing card almost as a
warning. What she said to herself: who?
Moods change, and as if the lights had darkened
back home in their bedroom, Henry was agile and
persuasive in the tight musculature of his taxi
kissing Laurie, teasing her breasts, under her
blouse, with gentle fingers and then spitting
out an undulating tongue, he breathed the
nipples, finally, kissing them whole, rising up,
like a swimmer, breath rustled the sum of her
mouth, as she breathed back, also an athlete, a
suffer, taking him inside the wave, rising atop
him, covering his hair and his swerve with her
hands, pushing him up higher, and then downward,
throwing her tits, saying that word, these are
mind, eat them, bite them, rubbing his face and
his hands insistent as passionate as that
quickening before orgasm, rushing his neck, his
eyes, his every sensory station, and then
pulling them both out, exposing her cunt,
ripping her pants, thrashing the pubic pear at
him, as if he were the source, the sun, not
caring what anyone saw or said, she rose on top,
rubbing him as old fisherwomen rubbed salt into
flesh, wanton, whistling with breathlessness,
and then as she came, unexpectedly, from just
his hands on her nipples, and the passion of
their breathing.
At the end, Laurie collapsed as the waves
against the hard sand, sinking down as the
ripples disappear, and Henry told her how when
he came in his pants her ass shimmered, her body
glowed, as she came, holding him like iron, her
half of the queen of diamonds falling from her
tee shirt pocket.
September 1992
In another card game, after the kidnap and
murder during the spring and summer of Laurie
Fallon, time pushed ahead as if it were a
stalled truck lost in September 1992.
None of the card players missed at first the
nine of spades, not even Henry who should have
suspected something, until the game failed, when
one wag, fearing he had been cheated, counted
the deck, found one card missing, and wandering
around the taxi, looking for the missing card,
wedged under an unsuspecting driver's ass, Henry
remembered the half card Laurie had given him,
last year, after fucking, and holding his half
in his hand, all Henry could read, was until
death, love Laurie.
The future never happens. Laurie was not dead.
No one had been kidnapped. Bored Henry,
insensitive to the Frankenstein Murders,
reported almost daily by the media, played
cards, drove his cab, and returned home to
Laurie as if nothing would happen.
April 21, 1992
Ten days after, Henry, disconsolate, missed
Laurie. Terrified, he believed the police would
save her. He felt certain. Nothing would happen
to a beautiful pregnant woman he loved more than
himself, and then the fiend, calling himself,
Abel, left the mutilated Laurie ground up,
pressed to death, decapitated, and horrible, as
some trash on the taxi corner. That didn't
happen. Henry imagined it. Laurie survived.
Again time shifted, and Henry's taxi rose out of
the swell of the GW bridge, into upper New York,
near 175th Street, winding around the access
roads, between the crack pimps and whores, over
the heroin needles, tires and bare feet of the
homeless rubbed easily against the screams of a
hundred more murders, actual and imaginary,
serial and solitary.
Pain had no secret scheme. It itched, and Henry
rubbed his palms, anticipating a change seven
months before Laurie's murder, dismemberment and
disposal on that same taxi stand where they
talked, held hands, and when it was later, and
he was lonely, had some furtive sex under the
yellow stains of the traffic light, in the same
shadow of the bridge, against the same yellow
curb where Laurie's head would roll from a
garbage bag, and rock until the still motion
gravity pushed back against Satan, and Henry
reaching for his lover's mouth, tasted the
amalgam of tears, cigarettes, and cheap booze,
thrown away discarded with the bones, muscles,
and hair, so careful combed, her dead, made up
faces, gruesome and beautiful in the early July
light.
All this didn't happen. Laurie lives.
Everything happened in the mind of the victim.
There was a perp. What will happen cannot be
stopped, nor can the fates alter what's
unreasonable. Laurie survives by accepting
temporary grace of innocence and laughing about
it like a kid who discovered he was a really
good liar.
Soldiers at War: Laurie Fallon KIA. October 20,
1965 through July 11, 1992
Henry recalled Vietnam when he found the queen
of diamonds, a third, and then a fourth time.
The card had no symbolic value. Not the death
car, and not life, but something between, a
symbol of boredom, and like an old coat with
frayed sleeves, Henry put it on, walked the room
decent.
Henry drove to Laurie's funeral and he heard the
belly laugh of the bugle, and then the sharp
familiar cadence of military mourning here and
there, Vietnam and Fort Lee, at the DC Memorial,
and at Laurie's grave.
On Laurie's grave he placed her photograph and
the two halves of the queen of diamonds,
carefully joined as if they never had been
separate.
Henry mourned Laurie, like most lovers; he
missed hands, eyes, and as the sun flickered on
the horizon caught the sleeve of the dark gray
night, as a final sigh and a blessing, Henry
raised up the queen of diamonds, placed it
behind the sun visor of his cab for safe
keeping. Henry watched Laurie dance. He watched
her smile at Aaron, take her clothes off and put
on a new skin. He saw her born again not as a
Christian but as a spirit. Henry watched the
lovely Laurie Fallon transform into a woman of
the streets, or an angel of the company of
thieves. He loved all her masks and promised to
restore them all.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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