by Kenya Wright
“Let him say what he wants.” Carmen gazed at my ruined hands and shivered. “I’ve heard worse from better people. Nothing he has to say will affect me.”
“Okay.” Still naked, I got in between her and his ragged form lying on the ground. “Dad, you’re mad and drunk. Go in your private room and sleep it off.”
His words came out as gurgled mumbles. “You hit me?”
Dad regularly brought women to the mansion but never to his private bedroom where he rested between each rendezvous/affair. In that room, a painting of my mother hung on the wall above his head. Sometimes I wondered if she’d been the only true love of his life. Did he ever think back to all of those years with regret? When he stumbled off to his room, alone and old, did he stare up at that painting of Mom and imagine what their future would’ve been—family vacations, growing old together, and grandchildren. Did he lie awake on cold nights and reminisce about their life together?
“I’m staying in here.” Dad rubbed his eyes. “She can leave. Just have somebody throw her on the curb with the rest of the trash.”
“Eh,” I pointed my finger at him. “You want more?”
He shut his mouth and did his best to sit up.
“That’s fine,” Carmen said. “I don’t give a damn what he calls me. He’s a sad, pathetic man. I feel sorry for him.”
“Oh, yeah yeah.” Dad clapped his hands. “Don’t you love the way the monkey sings?”
What happened next was probably wrong, but I didn’t care.
Again, I dove for my Dad, a man I had hated for years in silence, but never had the balls to truly call on his crap. I leaped for him with fury spraying out of my pores. My fingers itched to strangle him, just take his disgusting breath away for a few seconds.
Had he seen the hatred in my eyes?
“Adrian, no!” Carmen yelled right as my fist connected with his face. He widened his eyes and fell back from the impact. My fingers throbbed, but it was worth the pain.
“Have some respect for her!” I roared. “At least give her that.”
He crashed right back to the floor.
I stood over him, naked and with closed fists. “She’s right. I came to her. She’s not like the others so treat her with respect. The rest were greedy sluts. Not her. I had to beg her. I had to do more than show her my dick or wave my wallet around.” I stared down at my feet. “I had to pull things inside of me that I hadn’t realized were there, just to get close to her. I had to work at being better.”
Dad touched his face with a shaking hand. “Y-you hit me again? What’s next?”
At that moment, I realized he hadn’t heard one thing that I’d said. “Don’t call her those names again, and I won’t hit you.”
I turned around and faced Carmen. “You can go into my room. I’ll have one of the servants get you some clothes and make you breakfast. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
With a shocked face, she looked at Dad and then directed her attention to me. “No. I have to go. This is too much. I don’t think your father is smart or sober enough to not call me anymore demeaning names. And I don’t think you’ll let him breathe if he says one more racist remark.”
“I won’t.” I nodded.
“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “And thank God I don’t have my little pistol. He might’ve been filled with bullets after the monkey comment.”
I held in my laughter. “Let’s go in my room to talk.”
“No.” She gestured to the mirror. “Look at yourself. You’re my hero, but you’re covered in blood. You should clean up.” She pointed at him. “He should go somewhere and sleep or die.” She touched her chest. “And I should get the hell out of here.”
I turned to the mirror. I looked deranged—my cock was erect and my fists remained clenched and hungry for violence. Blood was everywhere—on my hands and his face. I stood close enough to Dad that it looked like he’d been giving me a blowjob and was on a break. Of course, he palmed his face and whimpered like a baby. If we’d been captured in a photo, people would’ve thought it was an advertisement for rough gay porn.
“Okay.” I backed away from him. “Things are a bit out of hand.”
“I have to go,” she said.
“Where?”
“Home, Adrian. And could you please put some clothes on?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Let’s talk about this in my room.”
“No.”
I caught her gaze straying to my cock. “Please.”
She headed off to the bathroom. “I need some breathing room. That was intense.”
I waved my hands. “What’re you saying?”
“Take that begging into another room.” Stumbling along, Dad slowly rose from the floor and collapsed onto the bed. His fart blared. He was drunker than I’d thought. “Just go to sleep, Dad.”
Carmen slammed the bathroom door behind her. I glanced at the doorway and spotted two maids peeking in. They rushed away when they realized I’d caught them. Everything had gotten out of hand. I’m sure there would be gossip all over the house. Some would probably hit the Internet.
It had been stupid to fall asleep in bed with her. After fucking her from behind, we’d made love again, lay entwined in each other’s limbs, and talked the rest of the night until we fell asleep. I banged on the door. “Carmen?”
“Leave. I’m washing up and then leaving.”
“Can we talk for a few minutes?” I asked. “I can come inside the bathroom.”
“I need a day or so to clear my mind.”
“Just five minutes,” I begged.
The shower turned on. She said nothing else. The noise of spraying water filled the air. Snoring came behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the disgusting image of my father. Drool leaked out of his cracked lips.
Why couldn’t you have just stayed wherever you were? I leaned my head on the door and inhaled, hoping to get a scent of Carmen, if only for the last time. Her rosy perfume lingered in the air as my gut twisted unto itself.
She’d already been against sleeping with me due to Dad. His coming into the room and shaming her wouldn’t help. Now she’d think that it was all just a conquest. Carmen?
Making love to her surpassed anything in my life. That soft body snared me. There’d be no other. And with a few nasty words from Dad and his surprise blow up, there’d be no more time with Carmen either.
Could I turn all of this around? Does she really just need time?
Chapter 9
Of Wind and Leaves
Carmen
When I got out of the shower, Adrian already gone to his room and left his father passed out on the bed. I rushed to pack my things, called a cab, and got out of there fast. Adrian never stopped me. No phone calls or text messages came from him the next day or the day after that.
Days passed.
Some nights, I peeked out of the window and searched for him in the cars across the street. I had no idea how I would feel if I’d ever really caught him stalking me. One thing I had to admit was that part of me hoped he lingered in the shadows outside. The logical part thanked God that I never spotted him.
Adrian and I could never be.
There were so many red flags—his stalking me, his mommy issues, the desperate need of therapy, and the sexual relationships with Nick’s women. What was he getting out of sleeping with them? Did he really hate his father that much? Was Adrian just as alone as Nick, hoping for some feminine being to touch him one more time?
That night danced in my mind.
I touched myself to those scenes of me staring at him in the mirror as he pounded that beautiful cock into me. In the morning, I did my best to run the lust for him out of my system, slamming my feet onto the pavement the same way he’d slammed into my body over and over again until I groaned in pleasure. Mornings held cold showers and my repeated sessions with vibrators as I thought of him inside of me.
It was bad.
He’d gotten inside me. When I cl
osed my eyes, his gorgeous face came into view. When I smelled my skin, it was his scent. His voice sang me to sleep. Thoughts of our debates on politics and philosophy made me laugh in my saddest moments. I touched my sheets and imagined the feel of his flesh smoothing against mine. At night, I closed my eyes and dreamed of him.
I thought of our last intimate conversation before the sex.
Adrian frowned. “I imagined what my mother looked like that day the convenience store cashier found her.”
“And poetry helped you?” I asked.
“It helped. Words healed me...”
Maybe words will heal me.
By the second week, I sat at my computer and tried it Adrian’s way. I played with words and hoped they would heal me. Catharsis. What was I healing from? Everything. Was it a broken heart? Perhaps. Who’d broken it? Everyone, but Adrian.
As I healed, I realized that I had no real feelings for Nick. He’d been a rebound. A distraction from the loss of my ex. We’d had fun times sure, but nothing else.
And then I realized something. I missed Adrian. He’d become a habit, just like those morning jogs. He’d become a true friend, someone radiating charisma and so absolutely fun to be around.
I missed him.
Sitting at my desk, I turned on my computer and stared at what I’d written weeks ago. “A god masturbating in an enchanted forest.”
My cat Edgar, named after Edgar Allen Poe, jumped into my lap and purred. I stroked his midnight hair. Adrian’s sleek strands rushed to my mind. I had to shake my head to stop thinking about it.
“Okay, Edgar. What do you think? Should I keep the masturbating god or go in another direction?”
Edgar rolled onto his back and went to sleep. He’d barely acknowledged me since we reunited. Nick hated cats, so when I moved into the mansion my mother kept Edgar. Now back in my apartment and waiting for my funds to come from Ford Enterprises, I was making it all up to Edgar.
“If I submit this manuscript to my editor, she’ll think I’m smoking crack or that I’m a genius.” I shrugged. “Who cares? Mommy has to get this all out. Clearly, the masturbating god is Adrian. But where am I going with this?” I laughed. “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Why is the god painting the forest with sperm? Where is this story going? What happens to the forest once he’s come all over it? Gods have magic that could create life. Hmmm. I like that. Masturbation creating life somehow. This public display being more than just some erotic show... ”
Had Adrian’s jacking off in front of me been more? Sure, it was perverted, but... am I stupid to think that we had something more? What am I even talking about? I can’t be with him.
Sighing, I typed it all out into my computer. “Sometimes Mommy thinks too much, Edgar.”
And so I wrote …
Hot white liquid gushed out of the god's tip and sprayed the center of the forest. “Oh, I'll cover you all.” Kroll bucked his hips. “It'll teach you not to tease me.”
His seed rained down on the forest as he grunted. His body color returned to pale while that hardened flesh trembled like the ground in the midst of an earthquake. The entire time the god Kroll stroked himself, warlocks hid around, watching him, ready to attack.
The Sixteen were twice the size of a human, their heights soaring well over fifteen feet.
Kroll's seed dripped from leaves, soaked the surrounding soil, and floated in dreary spots on the stream. All the warlocks wrenched out their swords, sharpened edges made with the four elements of the world—air, earth, water, and fire. One sword could pierce a god. Four swords could kill him.
"I`m tired of this." The warlock named Aeris sneered. Even with his huge robe on, anyone could see those muscular arms bulge. Instead of using his feet, he glided on air. "We're warlocks. We're meant for great things, not the god’s clean up duty."
Rak took off the hood of his robe and revealed a bald head. "Who said we were made for great things?"
"The Mother."
"I’ve never heard Mother Earth speak."
Aeris pointed to one of the semen-drenched leaves. "I'll take that one."
The process had already started. The leaf's surface rippled as it widened and expanded to the size of the tree it had hung from. Three hairy legs sprouted from its huge body. Too heavy for the branches, the leaf dropped to the ground with a boom and unsettled the grass. Teeth formed at the center, sharp white ones that snapped at Aeris as he swung his sword an inch from it.
With no problem, Aeris sliced the leaf into two. It broke away with a shriek. Blood sprayed out and stained the warlock’s robe as it collapsed to the ground. "This is beneath us."
“If you had not killed that leaf then it would have stormed the villagers.” Rak stabbed an apple that had grown well over twenty feet and formed a mouth with fangs.
The huge god, Kroll laughed, hid his cock, and flew back into the clouds.
"Not even a thank you." The warlock Aeris slayed another leaf monster.
“The gods never show gratitude.” Rak stepped in front of a tree, rose, and landed on a branch.
Aeris commanded the breeze to take him up higher. “And Mother Earth created the warlocks to keep the gods in line.”
“Who knows what Mother Earth wanted?”
“I'm starting to hate this phase you're going through. You've stopped being fun.”
“If you don't want to hear me complain then go fly with your birds.”
“The birds are better company anyway.” Aeris climbed higher, leaving Rak to the tree. Wind tickled Aeris’s bare feet.
Rak walked along the branches. A baby cried off in the distance. Pausing, he focused on the sound’s direction.
Rak turned to the nearest trunk. “Do you hear that?”
The bark's pattern shifted into a stack of straight horizontal lines, which meant yes. Vertical bark meant no.
Rak rubbed his head and patted the tree. “Thank you, kind friend. Do you think you know exactly where this child is?”
The pattern vibrated for a few seconds, but did not move, which meant another yes.
“Can you take me to this baby?” Rak's stomach twisted in knots as the branch lifted him into the air.
The more he rose, the more he knew that he would have to kill the child. No human baby would be so high up and by itself. This would be a creature from Kroll's seed. It would be a monster. Nothing else came from a god's semen merged with nature.
Seconds later, Rak spotted the baby. The newborn’s skin shifted from bark to flesh. Green curls covered the child's head. The strands moved on their own, winding into tiny leaves and unwinding back into green hair.
Rak climbed onto the branch that the child lay on. His breath caught in his throat.
Huge green eyes stared at him.
“You are not normal, are you?” he whispered.
The child sniffled and cried, thrashing from side to side with her legs.
“Calm down.” He frowned. “Too much movement and you'll fall. Too much noise and another warlock will come to kill you.”
The child didn't listen, and in a rush of motion slipped off the branch and fell. Rak jumped into the sea of leaves and captured her right before she crashed.
Scared, the child shook in his arms. A rush of enjoyment spread over Rak as he held her.
What an amazing feeling, to touch another after never touching a person for one's entire life.
“You don't burn when I hold you. I’ve never been able to touch someone,” Rak whispered to the child as she fell into sleep. “Shh, little one. Go to sleep. I'll always be here to protect you.”
Rak kept that infant, and all the others created that day.
The trees directed Rak to other children made from the other god’s sperm. Deep within the waterfall where the god, Tann had thrust his cock into the canyon over and over and bellowed with lust, cried a baby with a turquoise and gold fish's tail instead of legs.
On a rock where the sunlight burned hotter than anywhere on the planet rested a child decorated in
violent flames and simmering smoke.
And on a foggy morning where Kroll had dug a hole into the moist earth and proceeded to pierce the land with his throbbing erection until he roared and filled the opening, a small weeping baby formed from vapor.
It was hard keeping the children’s existence hidden. The land whispered about these creatures radiating the goddesses’ feminine magic. The four girls grew into young women, reaching his height and all brimming with their own source of power. They were enchanting to witness, but in his mind, they were young girls, beautiful daughters, not meant for him, but for the whole universe.
My phone rang, yanking my mind out of my fantasy world and throwing me back into reality. When I’d started writing, it had been daylight. Now the sky shaded to black and the full moon hung high. My stomach grumbled as the phone rang again.
When was the last time I ate?
I picked up the phone without checking to see who called. “Hello?”
“How are you doing?” Adrian asked.
Chapter 10
Art imitates life
Carmen
I tensed in my seat and continued to hold the phone to my ear in shock.
“Carmen?”
“Yes.”
“How are you?”
I cleared my throat. “Fine. And you?”
“I’m... good.”
Silence traveled on the line.
“Why did you call?” I asked.
“To hear your voice.”
My chest burned while my thoughts journeyed back to that night we’d made love.
“And... to apologize for not contacting you earlier.” Adrian sighed. “There have been some problems on my end. It seems my father was okay with me simply having sex with you, but when I told him that I was in love with you, it made him—”
“Mad? Wait. You’re in love with me?”
“He’s threatening to take my money. He’s always held the purse strings. One of the reasons why I moved back in the mansion with him is because he didn’t want to be alone, but instead of just asking me back, he forced it.”