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Subject: {ASSM} Write Club: celia batau vs. Kenny Gamera
Date: Mon, 2 Oct 2000 05:10:01 -0400
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The words for this duel:
celia:
sordid, fetus, blood
Kenny:
blowtorch, rubber, cookie
Ref (that would be me):
giggle, fiesta, time-warp
The stories:
"She Giggled" by Kenny Gamera (MF)
<turtlemeat69@hotmail.com>
She Giggled
by
Kenny N Gamera
Okay, I was having a day. You know, the kind where the little
yellow smiley face has Xs for a mouth and eyes with a red dot in
the center of the arc which would be a person's forehead and drops
of blood driping down. The sort of day where you write whole
paragraphs in sentence fragments that really freak out the grammar
check in MS-Word (R). The sort of day where you recycle old gags
from other stories. That sort of day, with nuts and a dab of
whipped cream on top.
Bleck.
But I digress.
She was watching me as I typed away at the keyboard in the computer
lab on the north side of campus. She was not young, not even my
age. She was at that age where she was definitely someone's mom.
Still, even with her short blonde hair streaked gray, she was nicer
to look at then a blank screen and an empty mind in need of just
another latte to be at full strength.
A latte. The thought hung in my mind like a girl from a ceiling in
a TM Quinn story. I got up from the table where I was working. I
passed her as I walked out the door and she searched for a place to
sit in the crowded lab. She smiled at me. I smiled at her but
noted with a quick glance down the diamond ring on her left hand.
Probably just gas, I told myself as I went to the little coffee
stand next to the convenience store next to the food court in the
floor above the basement lab. The girl at the counter was your
typical gum chewing freshman. So, I waited just a little longer
than I should have as she remembered the secret to making a latte.
Unfortunately, she spent more time remembering to flirt with some
guy in a hat with greek letters arranged in a manner quite unlike a
mathematical formula. I, therefore, got a cup filled with something
more similar to a cappucino than what I wanted.
I was having a day, but I said that already.
I got back down to the lab, half expecting someone to have stolen my
machine or my jacket or be using my e-mail account to spam most of the
planet. Instead, I found that the woman known as someone's mom had
grabbed the computer next to the one I was using. She smiled at me
again; I smiled at her which seemed to be the polite thing to do.
I, also, tilted the screen a little so that the empty wall to the
other side of me had a better view and the mom had a worse view of
the little sex ditty I was writing.
I just stared at the screen some more as the words refused to flow
anywhere near the screen. I watched the mom as well as she waited
for the ancient computer to boot through the long routine that was
required of it. She smiled at me, again. It was the type of smile
that I learned to be afraid of as a kid. That radar that tells a
mother just what is going on in her child's mind. Or any child's
mind.
Too bad all men are somewhere still childern.
I adjusted the screen away from her and continued to type away at
nothing. Or is it not type away at anything. I know, for certain,
it is not "not type away at nothing."
Anyway, back to the story.
After a time, I finished the not-latte, and the not-story finished
me. After a few seconds of internal debate, I saved the pathetic
fragment that I had writen to a floppy. I adjusted the screen back
to normal and started to log-off. I stopped however when I realized
that I had forgotten to make one last check of my e-mail. There was
nothing, of course, but I would not get another chance to check it
until the next afternoon.
I logged off.
The mom was looking at me and smiling. I was really getting nervous
at this. She looked somehow familar. Deja-vu is a trick, though.
I could not place her at all, but her pretty features were common
enough that I was reminded of several women I had known in my life.
That was all it could be. I smiled and offered her a good night as
I rose from the cheap-ass computer lab chair. In a voice made rough
by cigarettes, she said good night to me in reply.
I heard a giggle as I walked away from her.
#############
The next day, I got up late as per standard practice. Quickly, I
showered, shat, and shaved, fed the cats, and chased the large one
around the hall before he tired of the game and wanted to go inside
the wrong apartment. The door to that apartment opened. My run-
away cat naturally freaked out when a blond haired woman walked out of
the door, almost stomping him in the process.
"Whoops! I'm sorry, little guy." Before he could react the woman
had him up and in her arms. In alternating pulses, my cat squirmed
and froze while she petted him. She looked at me and smiled, "Is he
yours?"
I squirmed a little as well. She wore a loose shirt and a pair of
khaki shorts which showed off a long pair of tan legs and ankle socks
tucked into a pair of tennis shoes. I looked up into a pair of ice
blue eyes which I could feel having seen before, maybe in a dream.
Her face was common, but in that way very pretty. I remembered at
once all the girls that I had loved before. Both those from afar
and those from up close.
I stuttered.
Well, I did. I could come up with nothing suave or witty or even
stupid. I just stuttered like a stupid teen-age boy.
My cat answered for me by frantically reaching his front paws in my
direction. She noted his reaction and handed him to me. I
wordlessly accepted my pet back from this woman. He quickly hugged
himself against me and began to purr very, very loudly. I just
stood there.
"He seems to be happier with his daddy, doesn't he?" she stated.
With another smile, she stepped by me. Closing her door, she turned
away from me and walked down the apartment hall. I watched her
retreating ass. She started outside, stopped, turned, and waved to
me. From the short distance, I could hear her giggle. Then, the door
closed behind her.
Finally, I took my cat inside and went to job number one.
#############
I hate waiting tables with a passion that Republicans save for Bill
Clinton. Naturally, this is what I do to keep kitty chow in the cat
bowls. Fortunately for my little monsters, I did receive a section
in the dining room rather then being sent home. It was a slow day
at the Country Club, the golf course closed for maintenance, but I
still had a total of three tables for most of lunch. They were
large, mostly business men, talking about work between the sordid
lies of golf games past. They tipped well.
The cats would eat well tonight.
At two, the manager walked over to me. This is a bad thing at two
o'clock in the afternoon of a slow day and with the kitchen about to
shut down. I knew what was up before he said a word.
"Kenny, we got another table. A deuce. You're taking it."
He retreated before I could tell him where he could stick his table.
I could almost get out right now with a decent hourly rate, but a
deuce would rarely leave enough on its own to make up for the extra
time I would spend in the dining room. I groaned to myself and
with my order book in hand left the server station.
I groaned again when I saw the table by the window. It was a woman,
very plain, with a young girl with blonde hair. If it weren't enough
to be stuck late, having to deal with a child was way too much. The
words "shut up and soldier" flashed into my head in my father's
voice. With a mighty sigh, I marched to the table.
"Good Afternoon, Ladies," I said in my relaxed country club waiter's
voice as I gave each the appropriate menu. "May I offer either of
you a beverage before you order?"
"I'll have a glass of white wine, the Lindenman's chardonnay." The
woman's voice was as plain as her face. "My ward will take a glass
of fruit juice."
"We have..."
"Apple juice!"
I turned to the girl who was about twelve, an age where almost all
people would order for themselves, nor would they order a juice.
Instead of being angry or sullen, she just smiled mostly at me. At
least, I assumed it was me because she kept contact with my eyes.
"I really like apple juice," she said.
I smiled at her and answered with a light voice, "of course, ma'am.
I will be right back with your juice." I turned to the plain woman.
She did not smile. I assumed a formal expression and said formally,
"and with your wine, ma'am."
They ordered and ate quickly, with no dessert. Twice, I refilled
the juice. I never refilled the wine. Each time, the girl smiled
at me with a bright cheery smile. The friendliness of her sweet
everygirl face brightened my heart. This was what I had wanted in my
life; just this little touch of sunshine cleared some of the gloom
over me.
If I had my life again, I wished, this girl would be my daughter.
But then again, wish in one hand and shit in the other...
They, at last but too soon, got up to leave. I stepped away from
the service station long enough to watch them go. The girl held
onto the plain woman's hand as they walked away, but with a sudden
movement as they approached the host stand, she pulled away from her
guardian and ran to me.
By instinct, I bent down as she reached me. Still, she had to
stretch to reach my cheek. There, she planted a little kiss before
stepping away. I touched the spot her lips had just parted.
"You're cute," she said with a giggle. Then she ran back to the
plain woman who just waited for her at the host stand. Together,
they walked away.
#############
I sat in the coffee shop. My notebook was filled with doodles. No
words, just doodles. My writing was going nowhere, slow, and I was
beginning to wonder if I should just skip the next latte, sober up a
little, and catch up on my sleep. It was still early enough that I
could go home, read a quick story or maybe finish that new Sherri
Tepper novel with enough time to get some extra sleep.
I decided on a cookie.
Well, I was hungry and a little extra food could absorb the unneeded
coffee that flowed in my system in place of the blood. The line at
the counter was a blonde woman, very heavy with a bun of her own in
the oven. The college kid at the counter steamed milk as she played
with a muffin wrapped in plastic. Her hands were small, with short
fingers. On the left was a diamond ring. I looked up and caught her
staring at me. I looked into her ice blue eyes. I grinned the
quilty grin.
She smiled at me then winked.
"Hot almond milk, ma'am."
With a start, we both turned to the coffee boy. He held out a paper
cup with a plastic sippable lid. She took it. I went to the
counter and started my order. As he left to make my coffee, I felt
my hand being touched.
I turned, and she was still there. Her left hand held mine. She
smiled at me. I started to think of something to say, but she
stopped that by taking my hand and placing it against her full
belly. Just as I touched against her, the fetus kicked against the
spot where I was placed.
Her smile grew. I saw pride in her eyes, but before I could even
think of what to ask or what to say or whether I should be asking or
saying, she let go of my hand. She turned and walked to the exit.
She stopped and waved to be without a word. But I could see her
giggle as the glass door closed behind her.
#############
I was walking into by building with my head down, lost in thought.
Not a good story line, either. I was pondering the wisdom of
continued porn writing in face of a neglected dissertation. So, I
didn't see her as I plowed into her. Her body bumped the note book
from my hand.
She was young and cute in an almost any girl sort of way. I smiled
at her. She smiled at me and said in a light voice, "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."
"It's not like I was either."
I looked down at my dropped journal and saw a pack of cigarettes.
Next to it was a lighter. I bent down to a knee for the her items.
After I handed her those items, I noticed a ring. It was gold and
had a small diamond.
I looked at her. It had to have been hers, but she looked closer to
a college freshman than someone's wife. I took it in my right hand.
My eyes questioned her. She shook her head yes.
I stood up and reached towards her to hand her the dropped wedding
band. She lift her left hand in time with me. Her palm was down.
The ring, between my thumb and index finger, slid onto her finger
as I watched.
I looked at her. She looked me in the eyes with hers of blue ice.
She smiled.
"I do," she said softly. Hers lips touched mine. After a gentle
kiss, she parted.
Then, she ran from me to the corner of the building. I gave chase,
just as she turned from my sight. I heard her giggle, but she was
gone as I reached the corner.
#############
I woke up early for the first time in months. I poured the cats an
early breakfast and took the time to brew a pot of coffee for
myself. I listened to the local news on the local public radio
station as I sipped at my cup. As the reporter droned on about the
annual fiesta on the south side, a knock interupted my early morning
non-thoughts. The cats scattered to their various hiding places.
It went to the door to answer it. Without looking, I opened the
door. It was the woman from downstairs.
She came in uninvited. Equally uninvited, she pushed her body
against mine. Forcefully, our lips met. I began to kiss her before
she could kiss me. We kissed for several minutes. Neither of us
spoke to the other. I knew that any talking would break the spell.
In the end, her voice did break the spell.
"Make love to me."
I led her to my bed. She dropped to her knees before she reached
up to me. With strong arms, she pulled me down after her. I fell
to my back. She attacked me with abandon. In just moments, my
boxers were off and her left hand began to stroke at my penis. I
was mesmerized by the sight of her tiny fingers against my cock.
She looked at me with her ice blue eyes that cut through my soul
like a blowtorch. I couldn't have cared less about the diamonded
wedding ring around her finger as I stared into her. I only cared
about entering into her.
I reached into the night stand and removed a condom. She helped me
place it around my cock. With the sheath in place, she rolled to
her back. I mounted her in one motion. I had never done that
before or since with any woman, but we her it seemed so natural to
just start pumping.
It wasn't love that we made, despite her request. We just fucked
each other in wild animal movements. Her legs around me, at last I
came.
As my penis released into her, I thought that I heard her shout out,
"Come in me daddy, come in me. Make your little girl with my seed."
Confused, thought to ask her what she meant, instead I fainted.
############
She was gone when I woke up. The rubber was still around me, but it
had burst as I came.
############
I reached work in time to not get sent home. Still, the
maintenance kept the business away. I had no tables. I stayed
busy with sorting and polishing silver and cleaning and other odds
or ends that get left undone.
Finally, as I prepared to leave, the manager gave me another late
table. "Sorry, Ken. She requested you."
I went to the table at the window. It was a single woman, an old
crone who sat smoking a single cigarette. She looked at me with the
pale blue ice of a younger woman.
"Bring me an apple juice," were the first and last words she said to
me. She just stared out the window and sipped at the apple juice.
At last, she carefully stood up and walked away from the table. As
she passed me, she stopped and took my face in her small left hand.
Her face stretched to meet mine and she placed a kiss on my cheek.
With a girlish giggle, she turned and walked away.
At the table was a wedding band and a note which simply read, "Let's
do the time-warp again."
========================================================
"Kindness" by celia batau (MF, rape)
<pinataheart@bigplanet.com>
Kindness
by celia batau
Mikha stood on the hot dirt, bare but for the colorful ikat draped
over her. Underneath, Mikha's hands were bound tightly behind her,
and her legs were hobbled at the knees. Nervously, she traced with
her eyes the long length of rope tied around her throat down along
the ground and back up into the hands of Balak, the man who had
"found" her.
Next to Balak's corpulent frame was a wiry man with a dark face and
drab tan clothes. He would occasionally nod and scratch at his thin
beard as he listened to Balak, and paying no attention whatsoever to
the angry woman standing silently beside him.
Mikha watched the men talk for a few minutes, then let her eyes
drift to the military truck behind them. It had no markings, and
Mikha hoped it was Uzbekistani and not Afghanistani.
Looking away from the truck and the others, Mikha focused on the
trunk of the dusty white Mercedes Balak had brought her in. She was
still sore from the bumpy two day ride in that cramped darkness.
"Eh, girl!" Balak called and jerked her forward with a tug of the
rope.
Mikha took two uncertain steps forward and stopped. They were all
watching her.
"Here, stupid!" Balak tugged again.
Reluctantly, Mikha shuffled closer, stopping just out of arm's
reach.
At a nod from the dark man, the woman reached out and flipped off
Mikha's colorful robe.
The sight of Mikha's naked form turned the woman's face from a scowl
to a sudden laugh, "Hey, Balak," she giggled, "did you bring us a
stick or a girl?"
"Shut up, woman. Examine her." The dark man responded.
Mikha felt the blood rush to her face as the woman did just that.
From checking her teeth and hair to her nails, the woman roughly
groped and prodded every parcel of her undernourished flesh as Mikha
held still and stared up at the pale blue dome of the sky. At last,
the woman was done, and Mikha let her gaze drift down from heaven to
earth along the tops of the valley ridge and down the dark barren
sides to the flat spot of dirt between her feet.
"She's fine," the woman said as she turned back to the men.
Mikha heard the truck door open then slam while she crossed and
uncrossed her toes.
"We'll see."
Mikha looked up when Balak's fat fingers pushed under the ropes
binding her knees and cut them free. The dark man was standing
directly beside Balak. But all Mikha saw was the small fragile
package of cookies in his hand.
"Are you hungry, girl?"
Mikha nodded.
"Then I guess," said the man as he removed a cream cookie from the
package, "you want one?"
Mikha opened her mouth and the man pushed the cookie in. Mikha
chewed greedily while the man laughed. She savored the taste of the
only food she had had in the past two days, and didn't even mind as
Balak took up the slack of the rope around her throat.
Mikha opened her mouth again, the cookie gone.
The man smiled at Balak. "Greedy girl. But I have something else for
her now."
The girl looked down at his hand, expecting to find the cookies, and
instead saw the shiny foil of a condom.
Mikha coughed, and immediately the dark man grabbed her cheeks and
lifted her face to his own.
"There is a place a woman may not examine, and so I must do that
honor."
Mikha sucked in a breath to scream, but was jerked short again by a
tug of the rope.
"Open your mouth," the man commanded, squeezing her face for
emphasis.
When she opened, the woman pinched Mikha's tongue and pulled it out
to place two slender sticks of wood above and below her tongue. She
then bound the ends tightly together with thick string. Mikha
grunted, but couldn't retract her tongue.
Before she could protest, the girl was lifted up and carried to the
mercedes, where she was sat on the edge of the front fender.
"Good."
Mikha fell backwards onto her arms across the hot hood of the
mercedes when the dark man released her. After a moment, she felt
the rope pull taut again, but it didn't urge her back up onto her
bottom.
Soon she felt the man's bare thighs push between her knees, exposing
her to him. Then she felt a surprisingly warm palm touch her belly.
"She's not a virgin, Balak."
"No, but she was when I found her."
"Ah, then she's sure not to be carrying a fetus, you sterile goat."
he laughed.
Suddenly, Mika felt the tip of the man's rubber coated manhood press
against her entrance. She jerked up, but the hand on her belly held
her down. Then all too soon he was in.
Mikha did scream this time, but the sound died in her throat as the
man began thrusting. Mikha squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think
of anything but what was happening. She wouldn't cry. It didn't do
her any good the last time.
"So it is just you," he grunted.
". . . my blowtorch,"
". . . and me."
With the last word, the dark man shoved himself inside and released
his futile load.
"Well done," Bakal said from behind.
Slowly the dark man withdrew and pulled up his pants, dropping the
spent rubber beside Mikha's thigh on the fender before brushing off
his hands and turning to complete the three's sordid deal while
Mikha laid, eyes still closed, feeling the time-warp of her whole
life closing in around her.
Mikha sucked in one breath, then another, while the ache between her
legs slowly eased. She knew now that she'd probably never make it
out of Afganistan, out of the Taliban.
No, she thought. No, she was out of the Taliban. In Afganistan or
out. Life was going to be one fiesta after another. Party after
party with one man or another for the rest of her days.
Mikha opened her eyes and let the tears fall.
--
-denny-
curmudgeonly editor
"Life with the circus is one long uninterrupted dee-light."
(Barry Longyear, _Circus World_)
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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