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Subject: {ASSM} Taxi Murders Hyperfiction:  New From TxM6  Mf  MFf  
Date: Thu,  8 Aug 2002 07:10:02 -0400
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Taxi Murders Hyperfiction: TxM6
(c) 2002 Sean Farragher
0853X Marylise Whitman dft3.doc

Site:
http://www.seanfarragher.com/txm6

this story:

http://seanfarragher.com/txm6/marylise/0843XMarylise0853X.htm



For The Man Who Called Marylise
"Not Fully Formed."

Story in Laurie's Other Voice --
Multiple Personality Disorder

Dreams for a precocious first birthday

June 16, 1991

Marylise Whitman, born of the vision of Laurie and Henry, opened her eyes and saw sex
in all it splendid delirium. It confused her, but she absorbed it and followed it
like a map first to where she was not.  After that exploration, she carried her mind
to the back side and fondled there until her mind opened more.

Tracing her fingers along the edges of her ribs, pushing under her nipples, finding
the space between her sex and her mouth, she shivered and had her first orgasm. The
world was changed. The Big bang had fluttered. Papa Whitman has spoken. God was
wrong. Nothing remained of the old universe but the dried blood on the wet sheets.

Not being, not realized, not fully formed were one end for Marylise. When Laurie
became Marylise, Laurie had no recollection. When Laurie resumed, she found remnants
of Marylise in notebooks written in a foreign handwriting.

The words were happy, not contrived, and yet there was in Marylise an undercurrent
that sex made real. It was sex that never stopped. It continued without pause until
the daylight forgot itself and there was only an arctic night everywhere in the
world.

"I come as Marylise," Laurie told Henry, "for you. Do you feel her that way? I lie
when I am she. How do I know any of this if I cannot remember? You tell me Henry.
That is how I know. I believe you. Why should I not?

"Marylise's age? Not relevant. Barely legal as they said.

"No, she's much older," you tell Angela. How much? Really? You said she was light
years older. Another time I heard you tell Henry that Marylise was a child of
fifteen.

"Tell me the truth Laurie," Henry begged. How old are you really?

"How can I," Laurie answered. "I do not know her age. I am twenty-five, you know that
. . ."

"Marylise holds me captive too," Laurie. "She appears when I pause. She demands that
I feel sexy and when I don't she breathes in my ears and I hear your voice."

Are you Marylise too, Henry? Do you dress up like a woman or a girl to taunt me? I
love your masks Henry. I do, but really . . .."

"Would I tell you if I knew," Henry smiled. "Isn't the mystery better?"



No, I must not rush too far ahead of this story. In due time, Marylise will tell you
about herself. She will cross out all the blank names and write down how she wants to
be seen.

"Remember, I am Joss. I am Jess," Marylise explained. "I am Mary Mother of Virgin
God. I have changed so many names I cannot count them. I live inside Henry. I am he.
"You are I," she fondled Henry. "I am Marylise the child dressed in your legs; you
ravage me and I give that permission. I want all of Marylise to be factual.

Speaking to Henry, as Marylise, "I want you to pet my hair. I want you to fondle
where I am kissed and know every motion of my body when I make you come with my
mouth."






Born from the head of Laurie's prick and the fist of Henry clit, Marylise was created
fully formed riding Laurie's thigh and Henry's hands. Everyone thought she rode dick
well for a little tyke. If you had guessed her age, you might say 15, no older. "That
certainly makes it easier to raise kids," Laurie smiled. "I just want to go on
record. Henry is my man, Laurie announced. "Marylise can fuck him, but I get him
first."

You know Laurie, if I didn't love you as much as I do, I would just walk away. What a
stupid thing to say. First of all, she's not my actual child."

Henry put this in the record to answer the critics who claimed that the poet
exploited young vulnerable women.  Laurie and I are the only ones who can see her,
Henry added when the microphone was attached to his belt.

"When Marylise appeared," Laurie continued her story. "She claimed to the God of mud
who created the stepped pyramid and Eve. Adam was, as everyone knows, built from
Lilith's ribs. Moses had his own show on MTV, but was dumped for indecent exposure.
Forget David. He is a faggot from Queens who is not that bad of a guy if you ask
anyone around here. No, I do not have AIDS. That was a stupid thing to say. Just
because I hate people who bash gays doesn't mean I use needle drugs or fuck bisexual
hypo addicts."

No, that is not how it happened, Henry said. What shit? Tell them the truth out
there.

Laurie continues, "after being celibate for three months (no masturbation), I had an
orgasm of such intensity that Marylise was created out of that surprise. Henry helped
but not as much as he thinks. He sucked my clit and I did his ass. We are a great
team. Isn't that what it is all about. Teamwork. How else could the universe been
formed from a big bang or two, a fuck party seems the appropriate place. 15 billion
years ago three 14-year-old brothers from 135th and Lennox met this pre teen dance
group at the Apollo. One thing lead to another and you know how it is, the Imperial
Wizard not withstanding, these guys were such great singers that the girls came in
second. That is how we get the planet Uranus, isn't it?

"Think about it. No one usually remembers conception," Henry quipped.

"I do," Laurie raised her hand real high.

"Stand up Laurie," the teacher said. Now, tell your teacher and classmates how a
sweet little white bread thing like you knows anything about fucking let alone the
general stereotypes depicted on when Henry's thing placed inside asks multiple
generations. That is not so disgusting, Laurie. Don't you think?"

Joss made me the gift of creative orgasm to compensate for my miserable childhood.
Saying that, Laurie stood up again, pulled her dress down, then up. It was obvious
she wasn't wearing any underpants.

When this big guy behind her pulled her hair, Laurie slammed him got out from behind
the desk and decked his buddy.

Meanwhile Henry in front of the class recited fuck poems and cheering Laurie as the
next fucken heavy weight champion of the Tit bar established for women having an
under 32 A bra size and also having reached the age of 18.

"Yes, barfly, tipping is permitted," Laurie stuck her tits out.

"Spectacular bullshit went on for thirty days and nights," Laurie said, but after my
last orgasm (seven hours ago) and with each subsequent start and stop, lurch and
spasm, I finally settled inside in my stomach. Thank you Henry for rubbing it."

Two weeks later Marylise popped out wearing a white thong bathing suit, a sash filled
with World War I French medals for valor.

"Don't forget my beautiful tennis dress designed by Cher," Laurie added at the end.

"I bet you want to know how Marylise got her name. Henry chose it;"

Laurie stood up by her desk, raised her hand and answered. The teacher asked her, now
tell me sweetheart, do you suck Henry's cock?

Of course I do. Don't you, Laurie answered, and cute as a button bowed.

A few years ago, he had a very smart and accomplished female student who wrote an
interesting story about love between a much older man and a very young but precocious
woman. That student called her character Marylise and promised to give that name to
their first child. Nothing happened of course. Henry understood how women slowly
mature forgetting their first loves but not really forgetting them.

Henry depended on that lapse of memory and he thought that Marylise would be an
excellent name for the broken mirror affect now officially listed in Bullfinches
Mythology classified "as sexual in design if not origin."

In 1992, Marylise wrote poems and searched for metaphors to know the air as son and
sun, which were the emblems she had tattooed inside her left thigh. On the right
thigh she had the artist draw two birds (like stones in the calm) adorning them with
feathers and silver lockets dangled from their necks.

Of course, Marylise danced naked in her fantasy fingering her clit as madness made
her want only to come over and over, wide spread, legs apart, and all the men
wandering around plucking at lips and cursing the sand for hiding their sources.

Marylise clapped at their failures and began to climb the old tree thinking she could
escape making the summit, looking about, and wishing she could hide in some dark
corner and watch everyone who watched her come would want to know if they could hide
with her or if not, find a place reasonably close but not what they had already they
could find a place to hide. Yes, the birds sculpted into my flesh were women without
eyes, Laurie told Henry when he first asked about her sculpture and paintings. Then,
walking too slow, confused, not knowing what to do, but takes care of the natural
lines (that is all we can know); " we are all blind," she said.






HENRY

Henry loved Laurie and Marylise's intelligent chatter. After Laurie was kidnapped,
Marylise kept Henry busy. When Laurie materialized, she did not resemble Laurie or
Marylise. Now, she looked just like Henry might if he were female.

Henry said it was not incest, because she was not his child but a replica.

Laurie claimed Henry's Boston child was not genuine. "I wouldn't say she is fake,"
Laurie added. "Just not authentic. I don't care if the DNA matches. What does that
prove after all."

Henry called Marylise a genius. No, she did not speak in tongues or babble. "She
adapted well to post modern mathematics and logical positivism," Laurie adding when
Henry stopped talking.  "I can stuff her with any character I fancy. If you have a
part in your movie, Laurie told one experimental moviemaker at a festival, no matter
how small, her magic would infuse your production with a certain discrete innocence.
Add a dash of depravity, and she can handle that even better."

"What bullshit," Marylise replied. "Mom," turning to Laurie, "you're fucken nuts."

"Why did you create me? Why bother.

She is such an ungrateful kid, Laurie commented writing down a long sentence as if it
were a journal entry or notes written for a psychological study.

Henry reappears.

"Did someone call me?"

"I did her for you darling. Just for you," Laurie took Henry's chin in her hand
grabbing it like he were a naughty schoolboy and she was the principal.

"What if I get hit by a bus, run away with millionaire or find a woman with a real
cock," Laurie postulated. "I might leave you Henry," Laurie teased.

"Are you looking now? If you find her, I would love to watch."

Henry smirked.

"I know darling, you like to be bitten on the ass."

"Find me a creature like you with your equipment and I will let her/bite my ass. It
must be genuine pussy with a fully functional twat."

"You mean like my other self Marylise"

"She's a phony. Someday I will figure out her illusions."

"Forget her spiritual ambiguity, I have seen her with a cock and other times with a
hybrid organ that looks like a clam with a spout."

"Have you seen her pussy," Henry laughed? "Case closed as far as I am concerned."

"Why should I? She doesn't want anything to do with men. Do you blame her."

"Where is Sir perfect, Mr. Gadfly," Henry interrupted.

Laurie didn't like Henry's attitude, but she kept up with him in banter realizing he
was running a gag.

"You can't tell me the Gadfly doesn't look like a man. He sticks out a foot at least.

Marylise meanwhile had fallen asleep.

"You better wake her," Henry cautioned Laurie.

Ignoring Henry, Laurie continued the conversation about the Gadfly. "That is the way
he looked and changed every instant it seemed. He transformed at will."

"Like Marylise," Henry asked?

"No, don't be silly, honey, Laurie has decided to be assertive.

"Marylise is only female. There is not a drop of male shit in her entire
"chromospheres." Think I am fucken crazy. How could I compete with her even if we
share, except during great stress, the same body.

Henry loved Marylise when she babbled. He named her " his mixed up child with a
genius IQ."

Neither Laurie nor Marylise spoke in tongues nor babbled. You might imagine that. You
could even stuff her with that character. She would not like it, but so what.
Everyone needs help. We drown in every day speak too easily. If we have a part in the
drama, no matter how small, the magic will last for a few hours.



MARYLISE

Marylise's loved sex, Her youth gave it a special twist. As a spirit, Henry, Laurie
continued, Marylise was without chronology. In this world, time has no duration.
Marylise now called herself fully formed but Henry disagreed. Henry was not ready for
Marylise to be sexual with him.

"He wants to know other women before he has children." Marylise wrote this comment in
her journal while Laurie was talking.

Written with invisible ink (no not milk), only Marylise and Laurie could read it.

Laurie said, when she read what Marylise wrote, it changed. "The actual letters do
not stand still," Laurie explained. "Marylise must edit on the fly," Laurie taps
Henry's shoulder squeezing it and then giggling about the obvious pun.

Today, for a change, mother and daughter, lover and lover, sister and saint, Henry's
two beautiful women were arm in arm.

"That is the best way," Henry added self-consciously



MARYLISE ON SEX

"I put out as they used to say for attention. That was the modus operandi back when
Henry was a boy. I told him many times what a shit he was and is and was as a man.
What man is different? Even the spirits as men suck, and I am not kidding."

Like Laurie, Marylise gave it food for sex freely offering it without any poison or
adulterants.

"Marylise does have one human flaw," Henry added. She suffers with depression. No one
will want her longing.

Laurie writing on the blackboard in that old fifth grade room where Miss Hearty took
up the watch wrote the word "doppelganger."

"Longing is more than depression. It is the absence of possibility after the loss
focus and internal energy," Laurie chided Henry for his insensitivity.

Marylise's weapon was sex. She loved to extend and deny it. She cut her breasts and
wrist with it, making thin lines of red blood. When she felt the pain, she called
herself "healthy and ready. I put out as they used to say just for attention. That
was the modus operandi back then when Henry was a boy. I told him many times what a
shit he played and yet he pretended to be so sanctimonious. No, I came by to see how
I could help,

"Marylise gave it out, and as the prophets know, she will have a terrible long life
especially after I am gone," Henry said. No one will want her longing, which is a
disease worse than depression.

Marylise compared writing to pushing words across the cash register.

"When I sucked cock for money, I always got paid up front. The dude could have robbed
me, but at least I knew that I had it in my hands."

Marylise exaggerated her character and her weaknesses. She stumbled across the soft
fall along the sludge of truth and made it run out of steam.

"I know that sounds strange. Yes, Marylise is flesh like I am. Pinching her breast,
feeling herself up, Laurie then put her arms around Henry's neck and told him. "No,
Marylise isn't the living dead or some other contrivance folks use when they confront
a world and person impossible to fully understand. I love her broken ideas. When I
read what she writes in her journal, you are like I am, lost. I think of the disorder
of her mind and my own, and I love it. I love to watch myself speak in codes Henry. I
become as Marylise invisible for you and we, Laurie and I fuck you both from inside
our heads and there is not a fucking thing you can do about it."

"We must have disorder" was Marylise's favorite comment." Imagine," she would ask,
"how do you write about nothing? How do you stamp on the ground and get your way and
find the cowboys and Indians less real than a man in your bed lifting your thighs,
spreading your legs, and plunging deeper into the mantle than anyone thought
possible."

On good weather days, Marylise worshipped the sun. She stared into the dark camera
Henry had bought to take the pictures of death. That is what he wrote under them when
they were framed and sold at the gallery. She walked undressed but not nude up to him
and pulled down her orange cheerleading shorts. "I know they are just gym shorts, but
I like thinking of myself as a cheerleader when I am feeling really dirty inside. I
always wanted to fuck the whole football team, but I never got the chance."

Marylise rested her hands on her knees and wondered what would happen next in his
plot line. Laurie remembered telling Henry that she hated mornings but loved the
soft, moist feeling after sex. "When I don't make love the night before, I begin to
look at the world and only see strangers." Marylise is not a stranger Laurie told
Henry. She is actual and functional.

Henry asked Laurie when she has an orgasm as Marylise does she have different
fantasies. "No, I don't she answered, but then again since I cannot really remember
any of it, all I know I read like you do. I do know that as Marylise I like your old
face more than I do as Laurie."

Getting up from the bar stool of another famous bar, "The White Lie." She told some
guy she just met at some bar called "the truth" was the "Gables." He blanched and
looked away and felt like the world had opened up for him. He didn't feel like it
closed down at all. He wandered with her in some open space where she gave him head.
I was there in his cosmos I wrote as Marylise. I wrote that I felt not present when
he came. I told him that he would die in a week after he came. I was hard and wrote
down in the diary that I hated his salty cock. I hate small ones. Nothing to be
gained there, and he took too long to come.

"Was it death," Marylise wrote, "that I imagined." Writing too easily, she continued,
"after he came, I made myself come, and I flushed my dirty panties. I had used them
to wipe my mouth. His hands were too hard. I didn't like him much, but he paid so
what did I care."

Why not make those statements now, Marylise. It is time you faced up, her other
father said. He did not accept Laurie for what she became. A Novel. Not the Trial,
but the Possessed. How I want to possess her, Henry thought, when he, for the first
time, allowed her to plunge inside him not with her absent cock, which she could have
provided but with her poems for the forgiveness she desired. "Like Sex I want to be
opened and then closed. I want no fucken coffin. I want to be whole and outside it at
the same time. "Watching stone dead women rise from the ground she knew what her body
would resemble if she killed herself. That was once a fantasy until she realized a
vision. She saw herself dead after suicide. She saw the inert body grow mold and the
pustules dry on her thighs. We all lie to satisfy survival, she thought.

Maybe some of us can only accept nothing but the rumble and rage of rock concerts
like the finite last revolt of the final cell division.

Does the universe die? Can it imagine itself alive after death after rebirth? What if
we remembered our past lives. How different? What happens when consciousness roams?
We would be more than Vishnu. No God could imagine us Henry. As Marylise and Laurie
and now you we are protected as the most perfect endangered species

Marylise knew the angels more as companions then visitors. Once Marylise asked that
angel if she knew the boundaries between satisfaction and journey. No, you mean how
do I have pleasure and not suffer the withdrawal from not knowing it, Marylise asked
Laurie? "Ask your father," Laurie would laugh back? Why, so he can have his way? No,
I don't mean that, Marylise would careful state. He has never harmed you or me for
that matter.

What do I want then? Yes, I know it is important to want more than Yes, like women
upon women, like Henry's grandmother, who articulated it, Marylise wanted to know how
the mystery play ends. Can it all be worked out?

No, Laurie wanted more than the pat on her head. Again, What is her age, the crowd of
men sopping the last of the brew from semen filled cunt? Fifteen, eighteen,
twenty-three, forty-one, twelve? How do I know? I only know she is more than any sum
of digits. No map found her. No map contained her gasp or the brief passage of her
eyes from me to the sun where she stared not afraid to be blind, she knew she would
grow all parts, all space.

Marylise is more than the skin and more than any ordinary map of human life. She
stepped free of her own creation. Did she create herself? No. She was born in the
usual way. Her father once upon a time had entered her mother. All the usual
mechanics of human creation were carefully observed and Marylise came down the inside
of her mother's skin. Held at the breast bitten to the nipple, she felt the thump of
more than a heart and more than that brief pleasure when her mother rubbed her clit
that first time to remind her of pleasure and pain.

Later, when formed, or almost formed, Marylise made "the man who thinks" shudder. He
watched how she played the strings of her sex.

She braved the performance and while they watched from the balcony, kissing,
fondling, sucking their own blood, they married to the longing. Imagine we made love
on a blanket inside the other's pulse.

There was always a sexual connection. Mind married mouth, lips and sun.

Marylise spoke carefully to the mind inside her mind. She felt the physic of space
and the collapse of Henry inside her. She was born inside his mouth and held there as
seed and expelled from his forehead fully formed and sexual. They shared the same
wave.

Marylise loved hearing stories written about her creation. He who heard her say "I
love it," turned up the volume and of course it made her feel sexy to know about how
Henry tracked her and carried her bodily moment into his own cave. I will not share
her, he said.

Henry wrote in his journal that her age was irrelevant because she had no age. She
asked several times why he wrote that and she ended her questions with: "Will you
reveal it, my true age"?

He lied, and said no, of course. She lied too. She knew before she asked him that no
one could determine her age.



LIES

Marylise exaggerated her character and her strength and weakness. Stumbling cross the
soft footfall by the sludge of truth made it all seem like it had happened. Mud can
become ebony and Blood becomes red ivory. They are the spells Tina uses. Laurie and
Marylise learned them and the lies that cull them from a postmodern aesthetic. Under
the influence of Baranik and Alpers (with a touch of de Kooning) Laurie and Henry
made art with their good friends Angela and Aaron.



TRUTH

"Marylise does not seem human," Laurie writes in her journal. Henry reading it with
Laurie's permission smiles and tells Laurie you got it all backward. She is more
human."

"She is flesh, Laurie paused. "As you well know, and separate from mine, right dear,
I know you love being the meant sleeping between two women."

"No, my darling Henry, Marylise is not the living dead or some other contrivance
folks use when they confront impossibly conceived worlds.

"We must have disorder" was one of Marylise's favorite slogans.

Do you remember Henry when Marylise asked, "How do you write about nothing? Or the
time she demanded to know why if she stamps on the ground cowboys and Indians appear
in her bed. Why are they more real than Sean Connery or Brad Pit?

Just imagine a threesome with those dudes, Laurie wrote in her book while Marylise
paraded naked with a knife and a spade.

I know that is an odd phrase, Henry, but "Wild Child Autumn" is your poem. We were
acting it out to see if it were possible.

I played you Henry in the poem, Laurie added. Marylise was the wood fire and not the
child. [Pause] Who played the child? We both did taking turns. Marylise is fair after
all, and certainly more considerate than any of us.



PHOTOGRAPHY

On good weather days, Marylise and Henry photographed nature and each other. Marylise
loved the pinhole camera Henry had made to take pictures of death. An old friend,
Mary Gail Weldon taught Henry how to use them. "You never met her, Laurie. Ask
Marylise she knows everyone."

"Laurie simply said I am not commenting on every stupid thing you say, Henry."

"Mary Gail died while living in Paris. Terrible car accident. No, I was not involved
with her. I met her when she was visiting Jimmy Caine. Yes, you never met him. He is
still MIA in Nam. No, I think he is alive. I would feel it if he were dead. Mary Gail
and Jimmy were lovers. She was three years older.

They had one kid who is being raised by Jimmy's grandfather.



PLOT LINES

Resting her hands on her knees and looking at Laurie and Henry fucking, Marylise was
bored. She wondered what would happen to jump start the plot line.

Listening during pillow talk, Marylise smiled and started to rub her clit. Can't
fucken get off she screamed at both of them while they were rolling together
playfully after fucking.

Laurie: I hate sex in the morning and when I don't make love the night before I look
at the world including my lover and only notice that we are all strangers.

Getting up from the bar stool of another famous bar, The Tit Bar, She told some guy
she just had about the her regular bar, she called "truth" or the "Gables."

"The dude blanched. I hate that place, he said. Only queers go there, and then, I
asked the asshole, if he wanted to feel my cock. He must have known I was kidding. He
got up and left me there, and didn't even take his drink. I left shortly after and
decided I didn't want to pick up some guy or gal for a casual romp. I came to you
that night Henry. I knocked at your door, and you wouldn't let me in until I started
to scream. I didn't know you were fucking Angela. Why were you so shy? I knew you
were lovers with her and Aaron. I had them too. In fact I was fucking Aaron at 16 and
Angela came to my bed when I was 15 when I first started modeling for them."

Henry was silent during her monologue. He did grunt, and shift his cock in and out of
Laurie's cunt from the rear. She was shifting back, pushing.

"I got tired of watching and joined them pushing them apart and taking over the
middle," Marylise said, speaking to the audience.

"Yes," Laurie answered, "just like the night with you and Angela, I slipped between
you and Angela picked up the phone and told, not asked Aaron, to get his ass over to
Henrys. The numbers have changed."

"I knew you were pissed, Henry. You wanted Angela to yourself. Aaron didn't like it
when you did it alone, but Angela set it up, and of course she told Aaron.

After all the upset, after all the shit I gave you my darling Henry, you said "making
love with me is like riding the cosmos to its origin."

"Was that death, Henry," Marylise asked waking up. "Who would die? I can't," Marylise
replied.

"Who will die in life or in the story? Good question. Somebody does."

Maybe it is evil, Laurie said, getting up in the bed stroking Marylise's mouth while
she sucked her clit.

Laurie spread her legs far apart while Marylise worked. Right after she came, Laurie
said, "that fucken Aaron can really paint. Look at that mural. God what incredible
blues. I was staring at his painting when I came. I felt him come."



DEATH TOYS

"I keep my death toys safe from them," Marylise told Laurie.

"You mean like you camera that can photograph the dead and make them live or die
again or worse never complete an entire cycle."

"No, it is not like that. The camera shows who will die and lets me help them get
ready."


TATTOOS

In the days before April 10, 1992, Marylise and Laurie wrote poems for the sun. They
tattooed their own designs on the same place on inner thigh. Marylise did it on the
right. Laurie on the left.

Marylise displayed two birds with feathery breasts; one sported an uncut cock and the
other a shaved pubis.  Silver lockets dangled from the male bird's necks. The claws
of the female held sage and herbs. Marylise said, "I was inspired by the eagle on
ancient golden American money."

Laurie designed her tattoo to show nothing but a simple line double thick with an
arrow pointing to her cunt. She drew a circle with a half line to symbolize it. "No
one, will get it, she told Marylise, but I like it. It says here I am."

After the tattoo party, Marylise danced naked in her fantasy. Drunk she cursed the
sandbar for not being consistent.

Climbing an old tree she perched in the lower branch, dangling her legs, she pumped
them back and forth with the rhythm of a fist pounding a cock.

Pumping her up, making the swing ride high so the chains would buckle at the highest
point caused a ripple that ran down the insides of her legs.

Pumping higher and longer, riding the back and forth, driving the swing that the tree
house held in trust brought Laurie and Marylise closer. It made Henry feel like their
father. Christ Tina even cheered.

Bored, getting down fast from the swing, riding the last push outward letting go,
Marylise sailed into the sand box twisting her ankle. Getting up, rubbing it, she
cursed being human. Pain will stop me, she thought. "I will play tag with myself,"
Marylise explained.

"No, I will join you," Laurie answered.

"Give me fifteen by myself first, OK"

"Sure."

Watching Laurie count to 1500 covering her eyes, Marylise could not believe how naive
Laurie pretended. Running as fast as she could Marylise reached the summit before
Laurie had stopped counting.

Looking about, wanting the lip of the cliff to reveal another dimension, Marylise
stopped.

No one could see anything. There was only the black, and when Marylise looked back
for Laurie, she realized that Laurie was gone. Where did she go? Looking down on her
hands, feet, her dress, Marylise just stopped without further duration.

Laurie shouted. "Marylise, there is Eden. Satan and God are fucking while waiting for
us."

Marylise had vanished.

HENRY'S APARTMENT

"Marylise is sleeping Henry, do not bother her."

"Good. We all need a rest, right darling."

"Why not come to bed early tonight darling? You can fuck her in the morning. Fuck me
first."



LAURIE QUESTIONS MARYLISE

"Marylise, have you seen Henry. I told him you were willing to take my place in his
bed. He seemed agreeable."

I know this seems like a silly question considering all we have said, but why did you
choose tattoos that depicted blind women?"

"All we can do Laurie, Marylise said, is take care of ourselves.  That is all we can
know; after all we are blind."


SUICIDE

Watching stone dead women rise from the ground Laurie imagined her own body if she
ended her own life.

Dead after suicide, Laurie watched the pustules dry on her thighs. "Does the universe
die," she asked. "Can it what if we could remember past lives? How different that
consciousness?"

Marylise asked one angel if she knew the boundary between satisfaction and journey.
Refining the question, Marylise added. How do I have pleasure and not suffer the
withdrawal from not knowing it?

"Ask your father," Laurie said, wasted no time.

"Why, so he can have his own way with us," Marylise giggled.

"No, not that. Henry has never harmed anyone."

What it comes down to. What I mean here, Laurie, I want to know how this fucken
mystery play ends. Can the entangled alliances and secret whispers all work out? Is
there a seventh book after the sextet ends?

You mean like a happy ending, Laurie surprised by Marylise's questions, said.
"Nothing good ends happily."

"Cynic"



SEX ENDS IT

Later, "the man who thinks" finally came.

Just after his orgasm, Henry watched how Laurie set out to play the strings of his
sex.  Marylise watched from the balcony while Laurie and Henry made love on the large
screen of the old Paramount Theater in New York. The porn actors, boy and girls,
sitting in one row clapped every orgasm. While they laughed, talked, cut up and
slapped hands, they also kissed, rubbed cocks, opened cunts, ate salted popcorn and
got very messy.

Watching the audience response, Marylise listened to her mind inside of her mind. She
felt Henry collapse inside her.

Held as a seed, Marylise had been expelled from his forehead fully formed. Marylise
loved hearing stories written about her creation and renaissance in general.

She heard Henry exclaim, "I love it," turning up the volume on the VCR.

Marylise got very sexy knowing they were all watching the famous masturbation follies

"I was paid well for this," Marylise quipped. "I like showing it off to the young
ones. They have endurance."

Henry disturbed by Marylise's provocation, withdrew from the confrontation. "I had no
problem with performance values. Great fucking and sucking scenes are hard to
destroy. What bothered me is that she looks younger every day."

Concerned, Henry asked Marylise, "are you over 18?"

Marylise did not answer but continued to press her tits against Henrys back feeling
his ribs and then turning him to rub them against his chest.

Henry wrote in his journal. "Age is irrelevant because no one has age without context
or consent."

Henry wrote in his notebook that Marylise's answer begged the question. "How old are
you he asked again?"

"If I tell you, and you promised not to tell anyone, will that be enough."

"Sure," Henry lied.

Marylise answered. "I am 14," she lied. "I age every day. It is easy to make up
numbers. No one knows the truth anymore. I am also forty and that makes me legal so
there."

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