When She Was Good

by Tristan Taormino

  Annabel’s mouth opened and she inhaled sharply. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. She was being stalked every moment? They knew where she lived? She looked down at the cotton polka dot dress she was wearing. She looked at her chipped nail polish. She was being photographed? Wait. Back up. Angel was going to come back a millionaire?

  Lee watched the emotions play on Annabel’s face. Oh god, she really hadn’t known, had she? Or else what was she doing sitting outside at Urth, looking so cute, putting on lipstick using the reflection in the lid of the saltshaker? Lee wanted to escape the situation she had created, but there was nowhere to go, and she didn’t even have one picture. She took another gulp of beer.

  “Bathroom?” she asked.

  Dazed, Annabel pointed down the hall.

  Lee crept into the bathroom and shut the door softly. She stood looking in the mirror, wondering what she should do next. Annabel’s pink satin robe hung on the back of the door. She ran her finger gently down the sash, and contemplated what a lucky girl Angel was to have a girlfriend like Annabel. She leaned in close, and she could smell Annabel’s perfume—something sweet, with lilies—on the robe. What the hell am I doing? Lee thought. I need to get some shots and get out of here. As quietly as possible, she unlatched the door to Annabel’s medicine cabinet and peered at the makeup and medicine bottles inside.

  With no warning, the door crashed open, just as Lee was considering whether she was desperate enough to take a picture of an innocuous bottle of prescription cough syrup.

  “What are you doing?” Annabel growled.

  Lee let her camera fall around her neck, and a blush pinked the tops of her ears and her cheeks.

  Annabel grabbed Lee by the shoulders and spun her around. In her heels, she was face-to-face with Lee. She pushed up against her like a drill sergeant and screamed in Lee’s face.

  “I heard you open my cabinet. I thought you came in here to use the bathroom! You filthy fucking maggot! You’re going through my stuff like some sick pervert!”

  Lee tried to back away in the tiny space, and stammered, “Wait, it isn’t like that! I came to use the bathroom! I swear! I don’t know what made me snoop!”

  Annabel used all her force to shove Lee painfully against the wall. “Did you go yet? Did you? If that’s what you came in here to do, you’d better do it.” Pushing her full weight against Lee, her hands darted down and scrabbled at Lee’s belt. The hateful camera pressed awkwardly into Annabel’s stomach. She got past Lee’s belt and yanked apart the button fly.

  Annabel choked out a mocking laugh when she got to Lee’s white Calvin Klein boy briefs. “If you’re going to piss, then do it,” she whispered against Lee’s ear. Lee let out a strangled grunt when Annabel yanked down her Levi’s and briefs and spun her around, pushing her down on the chilly white toilet seat. Annabel wasn’t strong, but her fervor made up for it. Lee was paralyzed with shock, and didn’t resist when Annabel yanked the camera from around her neck and thumbed it on.

  “What, are you pee shy?” Annabel pointed the camera at Lee and snapped off a few frames in quick succession. “Mmm, very nice,” she said as she got on her knees in front of Lee. Lee’s blush raced down her neck and her lower lip trembled as Annabel snapped a few more pictures from the new angle. Seeing Lee’s blush, Annabel’s nipples tightened under her dress. Lee folded her arms across her lap, trying to hide from the camera.

  Annabel looked up into Lee’s eyes and said menacingly, “You’d better go now, baby, because you aren’t going to get a chance later.” Lee broke down in terror, not knowing what this deranged girl was going to do next, and let out a gush of shameful piss. A single tear escaped down her hot cheek. Annabel leapt up and gleefully snapped a shot of the tear, and hauled Lee off the toilet before she had a chance to grab any toilet paper.

  Lee was off balance, and Annabel twisted Lee’s arm up behind her back and steered her into the bedroom. Lee waddled in front of her, pants pooled disgracefully around her ankles. Lee stumbled as Annabel let go of her arm with a shove.

  “Take off your pants and briefs. Leave the boots,” Annabel commanded. Lee sat on the edge of the bed, and awkwardly pulled her pants over her boots. Her crying had stopped, but her shoulders were trembling and her eyelashes clumped together with tears. She wouldn’t look up as Annabel took more pictures.

  “Get off my bed,” Annabel hissed. Lee slid off the low bed to the floor. “You’re revolting. I don’t want to look at you. Turn around.”

  The wool rug scratched Lee’s knees as she turned her back to Annabel. Annabel kicked Lee’s feet apart and knelt behind her. Lee could feel Annabel’s warm breath on her nape. Annabel licked the short hairs on the back of Lee’s neck, sending goose bumps up Lee’s thighs.

  “Do you think you know all about me, Lee? I know all about you, too. I can practically read your mind right now. I know all the nasty things that you want.” Annabel pressed her stiff nipples against Lee’s back and continued, “I should send you home now; I’ve got the pictures I want. But that would ruin your day. Because you like this, don’t you? You and me, we like the same things, don’t we?”

  Annabel pushed Lee over at the waist, causing Lee to fall facedown on the bed, pinning her hands under her own body weight. With no warning, Annabel thrust her hand between Lee’s legs. She rubbed her fingers harshly on the sides of Lee’s clit. Lee was sticky and sodden, and Annabel laughed as Lee immediately arched her back and tried to open her legs more.

  “Dirty, dirty, little boy,” Annabel scolded. She leaned forward and jammed her fingers into Lee’s mouth, and was rewarded with Lee greedily licking her own juices and piss off of Annabel’s fingers.

  Annabel snatched her hand away and stood up. She was ready to see just what Lee knew. She grabbed a wooden-handled hairbrush off of the vanity and struck Lee’s upturned behind. Before Lee could even draw a breath, the hairbrush came down cruelly on her other cheek. Lee choked out a sob.

  “Count out, you fucking maggot, don’t you have any manners? I guess not, because you like to pry around in ladies’ bathrooms, you nasty little panty-sniffer!”

  Lee buried her head in the prickly down comforter. “Two, Ma’am,” she mumbled. Annabel’s cunt twitched at those words, and she faltered, her next hit hard enough to birth a bruise.

  Trying to recover her poise, Annabel paused to snap a picture of the three distinct red ovals. The blow after the flash came unexpectedly, near the crease of Lee’s right cheek, close to her thigh. Lee counted it loudly and stuck her ass higher into the air, anticipating the next crack of the hairbrush. Instead, Annabel turned the brush over and raked the boar-hair bristles over Lee’s entire back. Lee yelped and tried to edge away. Annabel just grinned, and continued with solid wallops, scrapes from the bristles, and the occasional flash of the camera, until Lee began alternating between counting and begging, pressing her hips hard into the edge of the bed, trying to avoid the next strike.

  “Please, oh please, Ma’am, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lee sobbed, crying freely into the comforter. There was a large wet spot under her face, and another one where she was grinding her hips against the blanket.

  “Now you’re in my house, and you are going to feel just as vulnerable as you made me feel. Do you understand?” Annabel sneered. “Spread your ass open. I want to see everything.”

  Lee shuddered and reached back, her asscheeks blazing against her cool hands. Using both hands, she did what Annabel demanded, hiccupping into the blanket as she saw the staccato bursts of flash through her closed eyes. Annabel paused long enough to reach for something under her bed, and Lee was shocked by the cold glob of Probe that hit her between flashes. Lee made a mewling noise and spread wider. She heard the snap of a glove, and humped her clit against the bed as best as she could.

  With one hand, Annabel took an off-balance macro shot of the gossamer hairs between Lee’s cheeks, and used her other hand to push the tips of two fingers into Lee’s asshole. Lee strained back against Annabel.
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br />   “Please,” Lee murmured, and Annabel advanced past the second knuckles.

  “Please, Ma’am,” Lee gasped, and was rewarded with Annabel thrusting all the way in, stretching her ass wide. She held utterly still, hearing the camera auto-focus, and seeing the flash go off again behind her in the dimming light.

  Annabel put the camera down and slowly twisted her fingers in Lee’s ass. She used her other hand to lay sharp pinches along the bottom of Lee’s flushed backside.

  “I want to see you jack off. Now,” Annabel said quietly.

  Lee let go of her asscheek with one of her hands and reached in front to put her hand between her legs. She groaned as she used three fingers to rub arrhythmic circles on her clit hood. Lee began to shake, pushing back against Annabel’s hand.

  “You’d better ask, damn it,” Annabel threatened.

  “Please, please, please, Ma’am, please let me come,” Lee sobbed.

  “You’re disgusting, but if you have to, go ahead,” Annabel said, swiveling her fingers faster inside Lee. Lee’s hips rotated in a tight circle and the prickling in her thighs grew, encompassing her stomach. When Annabel slammed a third finger in, Lee came, bellowing into the blanket. Her ass sucked in Annabel’s fingers, clenching them over and over.

  When Lee gave a final jerk and her hand stopped grinding against her clit, Annabel carefully pulled her fingers out and dumped the glove on the floor. She hopped on the bed, and pulled Lee up into her arms, pushing her disarrayed hair out of her eyes and kissing her for the first time, hard. Lee kissed her back ferociously, and ran her hands down the front of Annabel’s dress.

  “Oh, Lee, you’ve been such a good boy. But I still haven’t forgiven you yet.”

  Lee nuzzled her face in Annabel’s cleavage and looked up at her.

  “Listen,” said Lee, “I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking in the bathroom, I’ve never done anything like that. I was just curious, and I know it was awful, and I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Are you good at anything besides snooping?” Annabel asked, with an edge in her voice.

  “Oh, yes, Ma’am,” Lee smirked up at her, showing her single dimple to great advantage.

  Annabel threaded her fingers through Lee’s hair and yanked. “Don’t be a smart-ass, just prove it,” she snarled.

  Lee slid down the bed and kissed both of the little bows on the tops of Annabel’s frothy pink shoes before removing them. She delicately kissed each of Annabel’s arches. When Lee looked up, Annabel’s head was back in a sea of pillows, her eyes closed. She mouthed one of Annabel’s pinky toes and then slid up her body, lifting the scalloped hem of Annabel’s dress.

  Annabel lifted her hips, and Lee obliged, pulling the drenched lace panties down and off. She reached up, pushing Annabel’s dress straps down around her arms, exposing Annabel’s full breasts to the chill of the darkened room. Annabel breathed deeply as Lee sucked first on her right nipple, and then the left. When Lee felt Annabel begin to wriggle, she responded by biting one of Annabel’s nipples and twisting the other, eliciting a gasp. Moving beneath the dress bunched around Annabel’s waist, she used her left hand to spread Annabel’s lips wide and began to wash her clit with deliberate, flat strokes. Annabel’s hips jerked in response, and her knees opened farther.

  “More!” Annabel cried, combining a commandment with a plea. Lee pinched her fingers and thumb together, and started to push her right hand into Annabel. She persisted with steady, hard licks on Annabel’s clit. Annabel continued her chant, squirming to bear down on Lee’s hand.

  Just as Lee thrust the largest part of her hand into Annabel, Annabel howled and her pussy began to spasm, crushing Lee’s knuckles. Lee forcefully sucked Annabel’s swollen clit into her mouth, and Annabel bucked against Lee’s face, sending cascading juices over Lee’s wrist.

  Lee waited until Annabel stopped shaking to gently remove her hand, savoring the final internal tremors that Annabel involuntarily offered. She crawled on top of Annabel, impulsively covering her face in kisses, awed by Annabel’s openness.

  “I have to tell you something,” Annabel whispered hoarsely. “Angel isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. So, could you call off your pack of wolves? Because I think I have room in my life for only one member of the paparazzi at a time.”

  Lee smiled into Annabel’s neck. “Anything you want, Annabel. But can I still take pictures of you sometime? You know, just for my own private enjoyment?”

  Annabel laughed, and gave Lee a hard pinch on her bruised backside.

  ANGIE’S DADDY

  A. Lizbeth Babcock

  I’ve never really had one. A Daddy, that is. What I mean is, I’ve never had a real one, or one that was really mine. But I have had the same dream almost every night. It’s about someone else’s Daddy. It’s about Angie’s Daddy.

  In the dream, Angie’s Daddy gives me what I always want but never get. Angie’s Daddy gives me me, and makes everything okay just by saying that it is. He perverts and absolves me. He adds to me and subtracts from me. He divides me. And I hate the times in between when I have to wait for him to come, and I have to try to piece it all together myself. I hate those times when I have to stand there, holding on to my perversion like a bag of doggie doo, because no one else knows what to do with it, or how to make it good. And what I really want is to just bring it all into focus, because what I really need is to see the whole picture.

  When the dream is over, I feel this sense of renewal that fills me up and bottoms me out because I need him to renew me again and again, and it’s never really enough and it’s never really over, but it’s still good and always worth it. Sometimes I wish the dream was my life and my life was the dream, and then I realize that the only thing that would change is what I believe to be real. And it’s hard to figure out what to believe, and it’s hard to figure out what’s really real. Sometimes my thoughts get lost in the hardness of that.

  Angie’s Daddy is the kind of Daddy who gets what he wants because he takes it, and because he convinces you that you want to give it. And believe me, you do. Or at least I do, in the dream. But part of why I want to give it is because of Angie. It’s because I want to be with her. And because I want to be in this experience with her. And because it’s her Daddy. Sometimes I wake up with the whisper of her name on my lips, and then I feel the harsh impression of a hand around my face, correcting me, collecting me, like I’m a thousand marbles on the floor.

  It’s set in different places, the dream. Because what matters is where we’re going, and not where we are or where we’ve been. And where we’re going is to another world. Sometimes we take Angie’s Daddy’s rocket ship to the moon, and the man on the moon is our only spectator. Other times, it happens at the local fair.

  This time, we’re sitting on the couch in Angie’s Daddy’s living room. Angie and me are on either side of him. And we’re giggly and cuddly, and soft like kittens. The television is on but there is no sound, because it doesn’t really matter anyway. And sometimes when we’re in the living room, people walk right by us like we’re just playing board games, and sometimes we are. But sometimes there are too many games and I’m all played out because every game has rules, and sometimes the rules are red and they’re written in blood. And rules aren’t made to be broken, you know. You can’t bend the rules.

  Angie’s Daddy is bigger than us, but then again Daddies often are. And there’s something comforting about his bulk. I peer at Angie from around his thick chest. Angie is so beautiful. And I love her so, so much. In the dream, my love for her is overwhelming. Sometimes I try to tell her that I love her, but I can only mouth the words and she thinks I’m saying elephant shoe. And even in the dream, I sometimes question that it might all be a dream, and I try really hard to stay there, to stay sleeping, to get my beauty sleep, to be Sleeping Beauty, because there are special things for special girls and what I really want is to be kissed by her.

  Something about
being there feels important. Something about being there feels life changing. And despite the gravity attached to the experience, something about being there feels really comfortable, and really real. It’s like coming home and being familiar. But there’s this ache that goes with it. The kind of ache you feel when you just can’t be with someone you want for whatever reason. And there’s that need you have that you know is never going to be met. It’s the same ache I feel when I walk around in real life. That terrible ache that I just can’t shake because I can’t take the dream back. And I’m afraid that if I talk about it out loud, words will fall from my mouth in red letters like rules that can’t be changed. I feel that ache every day. And I wish Angie’s Daddy could make that okay just by saying that it is.

  The dream is sometimes like looking at puzzle pieces but never seeing the full picture. And sometimes it’s like tunnel vision, and there’s no periphery and there’s no context. Other times it’s like looking through a kaleidoscope of images when I try to remember. And the light behind the images is so bright that I have to close my eyes because they’re too bright, and they’re shifting too fast. And sometimes the fastness of the shifting makes me feel dizzy, and the details get blurred and hazy, and it’s like I’m looking at them through smoke.

  But every time I catch Angie’s eye, she smiles at me. And I reach my arm way across Angie’s Daddy’s chest and touch her with an affection I would normally reserve for sick or dying animals. And I have this feeling, this feeling that I need to tattoo her image on my memory because somehow this wonderful thing is going to be ripped away from me. And it’s not because we’re sick or dying. It’s because of something else. So I try really hard to capture the details of her image…her fairy tale-long hair, her chocolate-drop eyes, and those big girlie lashes that sometimes tickle my cheek and neck. Only the details are isolated and abstract, like features cut from a picture that do not add up to a solid whole.