Saturday, July 16, 2011

"Carmen"

          Laying on her back, Carmen breathed and sweated.  Wide, salty rivers ran down both sides of her face, pooling at the base of her throat, forming a tepid pond.  From there, the sweat fell into the deep valley that separated her breasts and then over-flowed; cascading down the sides of her tight belly.  The room was hot!  Hot from the humid summer day.  Hot from the sheer curtains that let so much of the afternoon's sun-lit heat into the small bedroom.  Hot from heaving chests and uncensored screams and urgent coupling.
          She rolled over onto her side.  Reaching up, she pulled her long bright red-orange dyed hair to one side and grabbed a hand-full of the top sheet, wiping away the sting of the salty sweat that had rolled into her eyes.  Her eyes rested on the damp indentation on the pillow next to her.  He was gone.
          As always, he hadn't said good-bye.  He would make passionate love to her; would take his time fulfilling her needs - and his - crying out her name over and over again. But, he would always hurry away while she lay asleep; exhausted by their love making, satisfied by their time together.  Then contentment would turn to insecurity.  Insecurity to dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction to questioning, and, as always, the questioning would lead to self-hatred.  "I am...a whore."  Carmen rolled the word around in her mouth, tasting the foulness of it, spitting out the sweet and sour taste of it.  

          For the hundredth time, Carmen asked herself - why? Not - why him. Not - why she slept with him.  Not - who she betrayed in these secret trysts with him.  But - why she needed to do this at all?  Carmen restlessly tossed the top sheet off her sweaty body and got up from the bed.  She went over to the closet and put on her favorite red silk robe, the one that clashed horribly with her bright red-orange hair.  She let the robe hang open, examining her long body in the full-length mirror that hung on the closet door.  She was beautiful...and she knew it!  Her long hair hung in thick stands around her full, yet still perky breasts.  The flat, well defined muscles of her slim waist accentuated her round, lush hips.  She turned to check out her behind, an ass that made men stop in their tracks to celebrate with low whistles, with lust-filled grunts and with obscene shouts.  Carmen smiled to herself, and turned to face the mirror, putting her hands on her hips.  Her eyes continued down to her naked pubis - always shaved and always ready!  That thought chased away her smile and frowning, Carmen yanked the garish robe closed.  "Whore!" she shouted at her reflection and then turned from the mirror.
         She stepped into the bathroom and ran a bath, pouring her favorite bath gel into the steamy, hot water.  She sat on the side of the tub and worried a hang nail while she mused about her life.  Carmen could never remember a time when she didn't have a man.  Not even in her youth.  Little boys got on her nerves, and her first lover had been twenty-three years her senior when she lost her virginity of only fourteen years!  She had never gone out on a date...just fucked!  She had never had a boyfriend.  No steady relationship.  No fiance.  No husband.  Just men...men!
          It wasn't as if she needed them to pay the bills.  She didn't want or need their money!  She had always been able to take care of herself; had always gotten good jobs with good salaries.  She didn't need them to escort her to movies or events.  She was quite content to go out alone....and she always met someone if she wanted entertainment for the night.  She had great friends, so didn't need a man for company.  Carmen just liked sleeping with them.  Not more than one at the same time; nor more than one at a time.  Just one...until they got on her nerves!  They usually didn't last for more than three months before she got bored with them and stopped answering their calls or e-mails.  "Please baby, please baby, please....", Carmen whispered, and laughed.  And, it didn't mater whether they were single or married.  They were all fair game!
          Carmen slapped herself on one of her well shaped thighs.  "Whore!" she called into the fog that surrounded her.  She turned off the hot water and adjusted the temperature with cold water.  When it was cool enough to get into, Carmen slipped out of her robe and let it slip down her body onto the blood-red bath mat.  She groaned with pleasure as she lowered her body into the foaming tub.  "Almost as good as sex", she whispered, and let the hot water relax her as her thoughts tried to worry in her head.  "I should feel guilty", Carmen thought, and searched her mind and heart for this emotion.  Not finding it, she thought back on her afternoon in bed with Pedro, her best friend Erica's husband.  "But this is different", she said to herself, and for a moment she applauded her intention.  Carmen smiled, feeling clever that she had gotten Erica involved in the Book Woman Club, giving herself, first, time to seduce Pedro, and then, time for these afternoon encounters.  Erica complained to Carmen about Pedro all - the - time!  It was obvious that she didn't know how to handle him!  The only nice thing that Erica had to say about her husband was that he was hung like a horse, and that he was a man who knew what to do with his gifted member!  Carmen's smile widened as she thought to herself,  "But, I can handle you, Mr. Pedro!  Oh, yes I can!  I know exactly what to do with you...and what I'm going to do to you, Mr. Man!"

          Carmen ran a hand down the length of her wet and languid body, her hand coming to rest between her now trembling thighs, and she thought about Pedro and their afternoon fucking........

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

"Erica"

(Dear reader - to refresh yourself about where we last left Erica....read again 6-21-11. Enjoy!)

          "Are you all right, dear?"  The sweetness of the voice was so unbearably loving, so smooth, so gentle, that it was... painful.  The words that voice spoke - echoed inside of Erica's throbbing head. "...all right, dear?...all right, dear?...all right, dear...?"   Prayer bells tinkling.  A match striking to light incense.  The rustling of spreading wings.   Feather light touches stroked Erica's forehead and it felt like heaven had opened her gates and sent a chorus of angels to minister to her.  The angels pulled her towards consciousness, and she opened her eyes.  "Where am I?"
          "You're at Crouse Irving Memorial Hospital, dear."  A face came into focus and Erica recognized the older woman who had been watering her plants in front of the house on James Street.  "The hospital?  No! No!"  Erica struggled to sit up, but the throbbing pain pulled her head back down onto the soft pillow.  "Ohhh!"  Erica moaned, and she closed her eyes.  "What time is it?"  "A little after six, dear."  Erica's eyes flew open - wildly dancing with fear.  "No!  Oh, no!  I have to get home!  Pedro..."  Erica again struggled to sit up, this time pushing pain and fatigue backward and dragging up what will she had left to force one leg to move and dangle over the edge of the hospital bed.   The older woman stood up in protest, and walking quickly around the end of the bed, she put her warm, gentle hand on Erica's shoulder.  "You're in no condition to move, dear!  Please - lay back down! I'm calling the nurse!"  The older woman pressed the nurse call button on the wall.  "I can call your husband...Pedro is it?...to come and sit with you.  You passed out on the sidewalk and that jogger, (do you remember him?), called 911.  You didn't have any identification with you, so we didn't know who to call."  "No, no!  Please don't call Pedro !  I'm gonna be so late, and he's gonna be so mad!  I've got to get  out of here!"  Erica swung her other foot over the side of the bed.  She began to chew the soft tissue on the inside of her cheek. Blood mixed with the salty taste of her tears as she began to cry.  Again, the older woman's gentle hand firmly pushed down on Erica's shoulder.  "He'll understand, dear!"  Tears streamed down Erica's face. "You don't understand!" Erica whispered.  "He won't understand!"
          A nurse entered the room.  "You shouldn't be up!" the nurse scolded.  "I need to go home!" Erica quickly stood up on shaky feet, and the older woman moved her hand from Erica's shoulder to underneath her arm, taking much of Erica's weight on her own shoulders.   "You're not ready to go home yet!", said the woman, and the nurse agreed.  The older woman and the nurse put Erica back in bed, Erica's protests and tears falling on deaf ears.  The nurse took her vitals and told Erica that she would send the doctor in to speak with her, and left the room.  "I have to go home!  I have to!"  Erica wiped her running eyes and nose on the sleeve of her hospital gown as she pleaded with the older woman.  A soft, feathery, red blotch from the blood in Erica's mouth took form on her hospital sleeve.   "I know. I know!"  The older woman tried to sooth her, taking Erica's hand into her soft thin skinned brown hands.  "You don't know.  You just don't know...", Erica whispered.  The older woman leaned into Erica's ear and whispered, "You'd be surprised what I know!"  Erica looked up at the older woman, her eyes puzzled.  She was about to ask the woman what she meant, when the doctor entered her room.
          "I am Doctor Swanzy." A tall dark skinned woman with an African accent stood next to the bed.  "Now, tell me, do you have a name, our mystery patient?" "Erica." The doctor took notes, turning pages of official looking documents held captive on her clipboard and asked for Erica's last name.  "Gonzalez.", Erica answered.  "Your friend here.."  "Mrs. Celeste Warner", the older woman said, giving a quick smile Erica's way.  Erica looked at Celeste with surprise and embarrassment and nodded.  She had never asked the woman her name!  "Your friend, Mrs. Warner has been very worried about you! Ms. Warner, if you step out for a few moments, I would like to make a quick examination of Miss?...." "Mrs.", Erica corrected.  "Mrs. Gonzalez, " the doctor finished saying and again made a note on the pages of her clipboard.   "I need to go home!"  Erica now pleaded with the doctor.  "In due time, in due time!  Let me check you over...and then we can talk about going home."  The doctor closed the door behind Celeste as she left the hospital room.
           Celeste Warner paced the hall across from  Erica's hospital room.  A deep frown line appeared in the center of her forehead.  "Oh yes, my dear!  You'd be surprised, the things I know."

Friday, July 8, 2011

Glory "Amen" Johnson

(Have to back track her a little.  Read  Glory's story from June 18th, 2011 for background information.  Then follow her to the Book Woman's Club Meeting on June 23rd.  Sorry, but this was not written in sequence and I have to get all the characters to the June 23rd meeting!  When the characters speak.... )

It was dark outside when Glory "Amen" Johnson came to.  Starlight shimmered through the cathedral windows of Glory's dinning-room,  the white light transformed into ruby red, emerald green and cobalt blue, as it passed through the rich colors of century old stained glass. Glory lifted her face out of the pool of saliva that had run out her open mouth as she lay on the hardwood floor in the entryway of her house.  She wiped the spit off her face and sat up, dazed and confused, not knowing why she was on the floor! She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs that clouded her memory, and then painfully pulled herself up off of the floor.  Glory groaned as she tried to straighten her bruised knees, and she pressed at the lump that had formed on her forehead.  Had someone assaulted her when she came in the house?  Her purse lay at her feet, the contents scattered like leaves blown by fall winds.  Glory frantically looked around, her pulse beginning to race in fear!  Was someone in the house with her?  She backed up against the front door, tripping over her band of keys...and then she remembered!         Lucifer!
          Glory "Amen" Johnson's bruised knees buckled and she clutched the doorknob, gripping it like a lifeline thrown out on troubled waters, as she tried to keep herself from falling out on the floor again!  She remembered!  Glory nearly fell to the floor, overcome with unearthly fear, remembering what she had witnessed earlier that day, after the Book Woman Club Meeting!  Thunderbird's unholy transformation into Satan, her...his dark wings lifting him...her into the sky at the corner of Teal and James Street, right here in Syracuse, New York!  
         "Merciful father!", Glory cried out and the words traveled through her dark house.  Her fear became a black winged demon, flying from her imagination and into the corners of each room, lurking; ready to grab Glory and to take her down to hell!  She released the doorknob, turned the deadbolt lock and ran to the kitchen.  From a draw to the left of the sink, she grabbed a large butcher knife that had been passed down to Glory "Amen" Johnson's mother by her mother and then down to Glory.  Glory crept from her kitchen with the knife held out in front of her, and began to look for the demon!  Thunderbird! Lucifer!
          Glory first searched the dinning-room, where her face was bathed in the fiery colors of the light flowing from the stained glass windows.  Glory felt like the light came from Heaven itself and it fortified her as she searched her bathroom, and then her living-room, without incident.  She then bravely stepped into the circular room that she used for prayer.  Tall windows formed the street wall of the prayer room.  The floor to ceiling windows had multiple clear glass panes, and tonight they glowed with the white light of the full moon.  In this room, Glory "Amen" Johnson read her bible everyday when she woke up, and she finished everyday of her life with its holy pages open in her lap.  The shadowy shimmer of dozens of crosses echoed each other on the half circle of walls across the back of the room, and covered Glory's face in their protective symbol.  Glory's mother had left her the house when she died, and to bless the house, Glory had used her holy oil covered index finger to painstakingly trace the sign of the cross on each pane.  Glory went to each window, the knife still held in one out-stretched hand, and closed the stark white curtains, giving Satan no view into this sacred space.  Trembling, Glory continued her search for her evil adversary; the Dark One, the Anti-Christ, Lucifer...Satan!
            Step by creaking step, Glory ascended to the top floor of her Victorian home.  She cautiously looked down the hall, her head rising through the staircase opening as she walked, the rest of her shaking body following its ascent.  She immediately pressed her back against the hallway wall.  She edged along the wall towards the door leading to the attic.  Glory checked the three hasp locks and the dead bolt.  They were untouched.  The attic was secure from outside forces.  She slid over the door and continued down the hall, her back sliding towards the next bedroom door, the butcher knife now held in both hands.  There were four bedrooms on the second floor.  Glory slid along the wall and entered the closest room; the room that her mother had used in her last months on earth before God took her to be with Him.  Glory smelled her mother's perfume as she slowly circled the room.  Every morning Glory "Amen" Johnson sprayed her mother's favorite perfume, Chanel #5, on the pillow where her mother's head had last rested before her departure to Heaven.  She tip-toed to the closet, took a deep breath and flung open the door, the huge knife raised and ready to strike!   The closet was empty, except for her dead mothers clothing; they too refreshed each morning by a spritz of Chanel #5.  Glory slid on down the hall to the rest of the bedrooms, her own monk like bedroom being the last, and found nothing in any of them to do battle with.   She exhaled, not realizing until this moment, that she had been holding her breath.  God had delivered her from being waylaid by Satan, and she took big gulps of air and relief!
     Now, Glory's bedroom was in the smallest of the rooms on the second floor.  It held a dresser, a padded dressing table chair, and a single bed.  Her closet was empty. (Glory hung her cloths on a rack that sat in the corner of the room.)    Glory "Amen" Johnson entered the closet, set the butcher knife on the floor and closed the door.  Dropping to her knees in the dark closet, she began to pray, beginning as she always did with words from Matthew, Chapter 6, verse 6.  "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into the closet and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to they Father which is in secret; and thy father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly."  Glory's praying continued, her  prayer to the Lord pleading for deliverance from evil, "...For thine is the Kingdom and the power and the glory, for ever and ever..."  Her voice rose to a fevered pitch as she ended the prayer with the age old word that was her middle name, the word her mother murmered each time she kissed young Glory goodnight on the forehead, after leading her through an hour of prayer; "Amen"!  In the dark of that closet she prayed a third prayer for guidance and waited for an answer from God.  She waited on the hard floor of that dark closet, her bruised knees throbbing their pain.                  
She waited.

And when the answer came, Glory felt around the floor in the dark of that prayer closet for the butcher knife.  Finding it, she closed her hand around it's blade; wincing as the long, sharp pain of the knife slashed into the tender skin in the palm of her right hand.  Ignoring the pain, Glory held tightly onto the knife's blade and stood up.  She opened the closet door and with eyes glazed over like one who has seen the answers to the great mysteries, Glory headed downstairs, drops of blood marring the carpet on the stairs and the wood floors of her dinning-room and then her living-room, as she made the journey to her prayer room.  The blood followed Glory into her circular prayer room and, as she stopped walking, poured over her shoes to pool at at her feet.  She bent and set the knife down in the blood.  With her bloody right hand, Glory lifted her heavy  black bible from the table where it was left after her morning prayer.  She raised the Holy Book into the air, and with a shouted "Hallelujah!", she threw the bloody bible onto the floor!  It hit the pooling blood with a loud, wet thud, it's open pages skidding across the room!  She slowly followed the trail of flung blood, her bloody footprints in tow, and picked up the Book. Glory "Amen" Johnson read God's words.

She knew exactly what she was called to do!