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Subject: {ASSM} TxM6: Marylise -- Not Fully Formed
Date: Tue, 24 Dec 2002 18:10:06 -0500
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TxM6: Marylise --Not Fully Formed.
Taxi Murders Hyperfiction
Dreams for a precocious first birthday
(c) 2002 2003 Sean Farragher

sfarragher@nj.rr.com

http://www.seanfarragher.com/Hyperfiction
http://www.seanfarragher.com/txm6
http://www.seanfarragher.com
http://www.seanfarragher.com/Joss



TxM6: MARYLISE -- NOT FULLY FORMED

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 tube 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 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 na�ve 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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