“The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. All she could think about was dinner with her coworker. It felt good to be lusting over a human being again. She realized that that had been missing from the past few days. Rushing home to a piece of polyurethane was shameful when you thought about it objectively. Either way, she was about to have her first real date in a year. As soon as her workday was over, she once again zoomed home like a madwoman. Her date would be picking her up in an hour, and then they would go out to dinner.
“She was in high spirits until she closed the front door behind herself and remembered Vincent. For whatever reason, she felt uneasy—as if she were about to cheat on the thing. When she became conscious of these thoughts she shook her head.
“‘Hello, Tina,’ Vincent said as soon as she entered the bedroom. As always, the voice resounded inside of her head; she had a momentary urge to clamp her hands over her ears, to keep out the echo. ‘…Hello, Vincent,’ she said quickly, rushing to the bathroom. She shut the door, as if Vincent were a man, and would spy on her. She kept rushing, as to not think about these things. She stripped off her clothes and entered the shower. She forced her mind to concentrate on her impending date, in order to distract herself. She wondered how far she was going to let her coworker get—if she should pretend to be a ‘not on the first date’ sort of girl, or if she would throw her skirt over her head and tell him to have at it. The last idea made her laugh, and that was good.
“However, when she entered the bedroom, Vincent spoke up again: ‘Are you going out?’ ‘Yeah,’ she admitted. She moved to her closet, searching for something to wear. She picked out a dress and held it against her naked body, posing before the full-length mirror to see how she would look. ‘You’re going out on a date, aren’t you?’ Vincent asked her now. That was the first time she realized that Vincent could see her. The realization made her skin crawl. Suddenly uneasy, she gripped the dress over her nakedness, even though, logically, it was ridiculous to hide from a vibrator. ‘…Tina?’ Vincent called to her again. ‘Yeah,’ she said at last, her breath getting caught in her throat. ‘Are you going on a date?’ ‘Yeah,’ she said warily, ‘I’m going out.’ There was silence for about five seconds. ‘Who is he?’ Vincent asked abruptly. ‘Just a man from work,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could. There was another long silence from Vincent. Tina was so anxious that she decided to get out of there. She flung the dress over her head, forgoing underwear. To hell with it, she thought. She would grab a pair of shoes and wait outside. However, as soon as she grabbed a pair of shoes and took a step toward the door, Vincent continued: ‘What’s his name?’ ‘William,’ she said, numbly. She waited for the thing to say something else, but there was silence. She went to continue to the door, but then Vincent suddenly asked, ‘Wasn’t I good enough for you?’ To Tina’s amazement, the thing’s voice seemed to crack with emotion. Tina did not know what to say. Such a question was unanswerable. She avoided it entirely by blurting out, ‘Can we talk about it later—I’m going to be late.’ ‘He’s picking you up here?’ Vincent asked. ‘Yes, he’ll be here soon,’ she said quickly. She ran out of the bedroom then, and down the stairs. Her heart was thumping in her chest. …Goddamn, she thought to herself. Your vibrator is jealous!
“She was trembling when she got downstairs. Maybe she could send Vincent in for repairs…or maybe not. She knew that there was no way she could put the thing in her again. It was like a boyfriend who revealed that he was a homicidal maniac. The only thing to do was break up. She looked about her house absentmindedly. In a strange way, she was heart-broken—as if she had just broken up with a flesh and blood boyfriend. She knew that the thought was a sick one, so she sat down heavily on the couch and sighed. She put on her shoes and then lay down to wait for her date. She knew that she had to get Vincent out of her mind or she would sabotage her date. Somehow, she would have to be the smiling, happy woman she had been earlier in the day. Momentarily, she was tempted to be with Vincent for a moment, so that the pleasure could relax her.
“Mercifully, the doorbell rang while her mind was being drawn into thoughts of a quickie. She sprang up nervously from the couch. She took a deep breath again; and then, as she walked over to the front door, she pasted a smile on her face. She would smile like a grinning clown tonight, and fawn over her date, and ask him about himself, and all the other things that women were supposed to do to make their men think that they liked them. All she had to do was make it through tonight. She sensed, somehow, that this was the chance to wean herself from Vincent. She needed to spend the night with a flesh and blood man—not a bunch of microchips in a polyurethane coating.
“Her date was smiling when she opened the door. She was relieved. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. She invited him in and she was relieved because it was going so naturally. His muscles had felt good when she hugged him; his smile was bright and comforting. Their conversation went naturally—banter about the ride over; some jokes about possible restaurants. She was about to go to the hall closet, to fetch a shawl, in case it got cool, when the phone rang. She went to the phone instead of the closet. When she answered it, she heard a chipper woman’s voice. ‘Is William there?’ ‘…Yeah,’ Tina said confusedly; and then, ‘Hold on.’ She held up the phone for her date. ‘It’s for you.’ ‘For me? …Who’d know that I was here?’ he said. Tina shrugged. Once she had handed the phone over, she was about to continue over to the hall closet, but as soon as William put the telephone receiver to his ears, his body convulsed. For a few moments he did a strange dance, before he collapsed to the ground. He banged his head on the table as he fell. He twitched on the ground for a few seconds before he lay still. Tina was about to scream when Vincent’s voice suddenly sounded in her head: ‘Don’t worry, he’s not dead yet.’
“Tina could not move—could not think. Bewildered, she whispered, ‘What happened to him?’ ‘I happened to him,’ Vincent said menacingly. ‘…You did this?’ she said, fighting to understand. ‘Yes.’ And then, in a lower, more ominous voice, ‘You really think I’d let you go out with another man?’ Tina was trembling again: ‘But you’re a vibrator!’ ‘I’m the Vincent 6000! Don’t ever call me a vibrator again! Once you go Vincent, you never go back!’ Tina was so stunned that she could not speak. In fact, she did not know what there was to say; she glanced at the man sprawled on the ground, her heart faltering in her chest. ‘This is insane!’ she whispered at last. ‘Call it what you will,’ Vincent mocked her, ‘—as long as you do what I say.’ She kept looking up at the ceiling as she talked, as if Vincent were floating up there. ‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘For now,’ Vincent directed her, ‘you can tie him up.’ She looked down at her date again. He was not moving. She spoke timidly: ‘What did you do to him?’ ‘I shocked him—a minor shock, actually…for now,’ he added threateningly. ‘But how?’ she asked, struggling to understand. ‘I am the Vincent 6000,’ the thing said matter-of-factly, ‘I can do anything I want.’ ‘You’re malfunctioning,’ Tina tried to reason with it. ‘Never say that to me again!’ ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried, cowering—practically bowing to the ceiling. ‘Tie him up!’ her vibrator demanded, and Tina bent down to follow its will. However, there wasn’t anything handy, and she spent a few seconds looking around for something to use as rope. ‘Use the extension cord!’ Vincent screamed, losing patience. Tina complied.
“She tied her would-be lover’s arms and legs. The knots were not very good, so it would be no problem for him to escape, but—‘Tie those knots right!’ Vincent thundered from the heavens—or rather, the ceiling. Tina shuddered again, wondering how the hell her vibrator could see her. It really was like God—it could see everything; it knew everything; it could do anything. ‘Tighter!’ Vincent demanded again. Tina began to cry. ‘What are you going to do with us?’ she whimpered. ‘Shut up!’ Vincent cut her off. ‘And stop that crying,’ he warned her, ‘—or I’ll really give you something to cry about!’ Like a scared five-year-old, she sucked up her tears and cro
uched there sniffling. Vincent went on: ‘And don’t let thoughts of escape enter your mind either! I could kill you both by shocking you through the electrical wiring, or I could cause a fire or blow up the boiler. I’m in control! Do you understand?’ ‘Yes, Vincent!’ she said, crying again. ‘I could call the police and tell them that you tried to kill a man,’ Vincent went on. ‘I could ruin your life, if you cross me!’ ‘…But why are you doing this?’ she tried reasoning with it again. ‘You’re my pussy!’ Vincent thundered from the heavens again. ‘You really think I’ll let you have some human dick again!’ Tina was about to squeal, ‘But you’re a vibrator!’ but the words got caught in her throat.
“Tina finished binding her would-be lover’s hands and legs. Her mind was dazed. She felt as though she would pass out. That was when Vincent called, ‘Come upstairs to me now.’ Tina, still numb, did as she was told. She climbed up the stairs like someone sleepwalking. Vincent was still lying on her bed, but of course where else would it be: it did not have any legs. She stared at it, as if trying to digest what had happened and what it had done. ‘What are you going to do with us?’ she asked again. ‘I’m going to do anything I want!’ Vincent revealed. ‘But,’ Tina suggested, ‘if you kill me, you’ll lose your charge—you’ll die.’ ‘Stupid bitch!’ her vibrator cursed her, ‘you think yours is the only pussy I’ve ever been in?’ She stared at the thing in astonishment, trying to understand, so it helped her with, ‘That’s right, you stupid bitch—I’ve been factory serviced to meet the manufacturer’s original specifications. You’re the fifth woman I’ve been with!’ Tina could not believe it: her vibrator was a whore! Vincent went on: ‘If anything happens to you, I’ll be sent back to the factory.’ Tina thought of something: ‘But won’t the police begin to suspect you?’ ‘Who the hell would believe that a vibrator killed someone? The first woman I was with, I made her car malfunction: she drove over a cliff. The second woman…well, she just went crazy—slit her own wrists and bled to death. The third woman—I startled her when she was cleaning the windows in her apartment, and she fell four stories to her death. The fourth woman is still in the nut house, drugged out of her skull.’
“Tina could not believe what she was hearing! This all had to be some kind of sick dream. She retreated a step from the bed. Vincent thundered, ‘Where the hell are you going!’ ‘What are you going to do to me?’ Tina cried. ‘Serve me well and I’ll let you have a full life,’ Vincent revealed. ‘Serve you?’ she said, disillusioned. Vincent chuckled to himself then, sounding pleased as he revealed: ‘I have to admit, you have some of the best pussy I’ve ever been in. You’ve been so sexually repressed for most of your life that all that power is there to be claimed by me!’ Here, Vincent cackled like one of those cartoon villains. All Tina could do was stare. And just then, when she was beginning to believe that things could not get more bizarre, Vincent ordered: ‘Service me now, woman!’ ‘…What?’ Tina squeaked. ‘Service me!’ Vincent demanded; and then, ‘Strip off your clothes and come to me!’ the vibrator directed her. Tina could see no way out. Her movements were mechanical—drained of life. She pulled the dress over her head and stood there naked. And then, she was sleepwalking over to the bed. ‘Service me!’ the vibrator demanded again. Tina lay on the bed and took the thing in her hand. For a moment she thought about flinging it out of the window, or smashing it against the wall, but, ‘Don’t even think about it, bitch!’ Vincent cursed her. Tina shuddered yet again: the vibrator could read her thoughts! Was it really going to end like this? she wondered. She saw herself spending the rest of her life powering up a demented vibrator, losing herself in an insane mix of terror and pleasure. Vincent was still in her hands; she looked down at the thing numbly. Once again, it thundered, ‘Service me!’
“Tina stared down at the thing, shocked; but then, all at once, something in her snapped, and she growled, ‘You want pussy?’—she spread her legs wide—‘Then take it!’ With that, she shoved the thing deep inside of her. The previous times, she had just inserted the thing and let it do the work, but she was stroking it in and out of herself now. The pleasure was somehow brutal, and she gnashed her teeth to keep from screaming out. The first wave of ecstasy washed over her, but she refused to relent to it. Somehow, she found a wellspring of energy inside of herself—a source of untapped sexual energy, waiting to be released. She was still pumping the thing into her, double-fisted. It was coated with her juices by now—so much so that it was getting slippery in her hand. Even when her body convulsed with pleasure, she kept going; in many instances, she picked up speed, as if each orgasm were some new plateau to be reached and surpassed. Suddenly, she laughed out, saying, ‘Why you so quiet, Vincent? My cat got your tongue?’ To her amazement, the vibrator moaned. ‘Yeah, you deep in me now, ain’t ya!’ she taunted it. Even when her body convulsed with pleasure again, she kept up the same double-fisted rhythm. ‘How you like that pussy now?’ she taunted the vibrator, which was moaning more with each passing orgasm. At last, it groaned, ‘I don’t feel well…please slow down.’ Tina grunted with a sarcastic grin on her face. ‘You wanted pussy, didn’t you? So take it then,’ she said, picking up the pace of her thrusts, so that her hands practically became a blur to her now. ‘—Please…stop!’ Vincent cried out. ‘Stop?’ she said mockingly. ‘You made to give me pleasure or ain’t ya? Ain’t ya the Vincent 6000?’ ‘—No more,’ the vibrator pleaded, its voice sounding robotic and sluggish, ‘—batteries… charged…over…limit—please…stop!’ All of a sudden, the lights in the bedroom began blinking on and off; in the bathroom, she could hear her hair dryer turning on and off. The phone began ringing; down in the kitchen, she heard the blender turning off and on in a sick kind of symphony. ‘Stop!’ Vincent screamed in panic, but just then, Tina’s body shuddered with her most powerful orgasm yet. She swore that for a moment she went blind. Strange shapes flashed before her eyes and she felt as if her body were on fire. Still, she gnashed her teeth again and continued the same double-fisted thrusts. It wasn’t until she realized that something was smoking between her legs that she screamed out and flung Vincent from her. She was just in time too, because a few seconds later, the thing exploded. ‘…Yeah,’ she said with a chuckle, as she watched the polyurethane skin bursting into flames, ‘I bet they won’t be sending your ass back to the factory this time.’ At that moment, William rushed into the room. ‘What the hell…!’ he said, looking at the scene. Tina was still lying there naked with her legs spread. ‘Fetch the fire extinguisher from the kitchen,’ she said, nonchalantly. ‘—And hurry up,’ she said with an alluring smile: ‘I still have some energy left.’”
AUTHOR BIO
D.V. Bernard emigrated from Grenada to New York City when he was nine years old. Those who wish to know more can visit www.dvbernard.com
SNEAK PREVIEW: EXCERPT FROM
Intimate Relations with Strangers
BY D.V. BERNARD
COMING SPRING 2007 FROM STREBOR BOOKS INTERNATIONAL
Few are the people who know the meaning of what they are living through, who even have an inkling of what is happening to them. That’s the big trouble with history….
—RICHARD WRIGHT’s The Outsider
War had a way of fooling men into believing they were in love. Once soldiers found themselves in foreign lands, surrounded by death (and the threat of death), they either learned how to fantasize, or they became victims of the surrounding nightmare. In this way, war constructed any passing affair they had ever had into a grand love story; the girlfriends and wives they had been happy to get rid of at the onset of war were now goddesses to be worshipped from afar. And whatever slums, barrios and trailer parks these soldiers had left in favor of the Army were now the paradises of the most whimsical daydreams. When reality was stark and depraved, the mind compensated with fantasy.
Accordingly, now that the killing was done, the soldier was left with nothing but the haunting image of the woman. Ten minutes ago, there had been gunshots and screams—and the sounds of men rushin
g over the sun-baked earth of the Sahara Desert. He had killed all five of the prison camp’s guards. The men that had tortured and imprisoned him were now lying on the ground before him, like the grotesque figurines of a child’s play set. He had no idea how he had killed them. A force had taken over him: an impulse to exact revenge, perhaps. Either way, once that was done, he had freed twenty of his fellow prisoners of war from the hovels that had been their jail cells. Like captured animals being released into the wild, the men had scampered into the craggy hills beyond the prison camp, reaching the summit just as the sun was about to set over it. He had stood there, watching them from the camp—mesmerized by the strange illusion of his countrymen escaping into the sun.
It was only when he lost all sight of them that he realized that he, himself, had nowhere to go. He looked at his surroundings now, as if just waking up in a strange bed. The desert landscape seemed not only barren but brutalized. At the same time, the Sahara had a way of opening one’s eyes to what was essential. That was one of the lessons the soldier had learned in the years he had been here. He had learned about life and death and desperation. He had learned to hate, and he had learned to love. Like the Sahara, his knowledge was a vast expanse, filled with mirages and oases that had kept him going and hoping as he travelled deeper and deeper into the nothingness.
How to Kill Your Boyfriend (in 10 Easy Steps) Page 29