Tail

by Julian Duenker

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Hear that sound? That slow base of a noise beating it’s drawn out legs to the stretch of a week. A day passed for Susan, then another, culminating in a week of forgettable fluidity. She did talk to her father once more, but the conversation was deprived and lacked any acknowledgement (maybe a little bit, but nothing worth mention). They didn’t need it in the form of words, relying entirely on the curved view of their eyes to see each other’s troubles. All in all it was one of those weeks built out of translucent material, signifying no spectacular fireworks.

  She tried to shift her focused worries from the usual for a change of scenery, it was as simple as changing her shoes. This left only one problem for her to approach and quench. The fact that the lack of money left a genuine feeling of hunger for her to munch on, which inflated the problem within the confines of the fridge.

  What next? What next she said. What are those few steps that are in front of me, but I can’t see yet? How do I uncover those steps? Do I get one of those self-help books that tell me with confidence I can have bigger tits. Well maybe I like the way my tits look. So fuck you self-help book. My confidence doesn’t need motivation. She thought to herself as she fondled her belly button trying to uncover the solution to her present hunger. A job maybe? Deep down in her intestine, right above her bladder, she knew that a job would be the only solution. Plus it would tear her from her daily cardboard TV which was running out of material every day.

  Now that she knew the solution all she had to do was coax the job out from under the stained couch. Goochie goochie gooo. With those enticing squeals the job came out from underneath the couch flaunting its red dress as it presented its opportunity to Susan.

  She wasn’t particularly excited to model for Mathew, but ground rules stapled to her forehead she felt reasonably confident with selling her body...ugh um clothes. Mathew was more than happy to accommodate her, which meant an increased amount of time to spend with her. He may have introduced the idea to her from the couch, but that’s beside the point.

  She had an opportunity which might have just solve her hungry problem. Susan had prepped and requested the first shoot to be quiet and during the late evening, or the early night. She wanted it all to be private so she could ease herself in and stretch out her tentacles to get a good feel for the job. Reasonable, thought Mathew.

  With the liquid week over Susan found herself standing in front of the agency prepping to pose for fashion, horny fashion. A faint light peaked around the corner highlighting the empty secretary desk. Mathew had requested Susan to dress in easy home clothes, because he was going to give her the weapons later on. So she flung on the sloppiest clothes she could possibly dig out of her closet. Hence suicidal sweatpants and depressed sleeves with apathetic stains. Glad that she decided to do the first shoot in private she slinked through the dark halls, hiding her sloppy skin from imaginary eyes.

  Mathew had told her to meet him in studio no.6 so she did. As she neared the room she saw a strong push of light slip through the gap at the bottom of the door. With no.6 stabbed into the white frames she entered the room. Mathew was standing to the right of the room leaning on a table playing with his camera, composing its buttons to exactly how he liked it. Dirty boy. They said hello and eased themselves into the night.

  Handing her a dress he said “This is what you will wear tonight. Gondi’s newest dress. Really new. 75% triacetate…” immediately cut off by Susan “Cool, sounds really cool, but um… what size?” “Don’t worry, it will fit… and it will look beautiful.”

  She looked at the dress that corpsed its curves across her laid out arms. It was black, only black, with holes underneath the armpits that cut all the way down to the hip. The dress pleasured itself from revealing buckets of skin. Susan started to strip in the studio readying herself for the dress. She was slightly surprised that Mathew didn’t request her to wear any makeup, but it would become clear why later in the night. She wasn’t exactly an advocate of all of this voyeuristic shit, but this was her potential job, so she felt like she needed to get into the motion of it all. As well as that she enjoyed the purple bolts she would get up her inner thighs whenever she would get naked in front of Mathew.

  It was a nude tennis game with gazes bouncing back between the two. He watched Susan slip her grey sweatpants down to her ankles. Her boots were next, shivering from uncertainty and having to wade out of their comfort zone. She left all of her clothes beside the table as she brushed up against Mathew, teasing him, but making it very clear that the camera would have no part in the play.

  He stood their consuming her curves and dripped clothing as he stroked the few chest hairs that plagued between his shoulders. Rolling up the sleeves of his professional white shirt, he fiddled with the lighting around her. Burning white drove across the room painting its blinding poison over the pipes and onto the white sheet drooped from the ceiling. Everything and everything moved to the ecstatic nature of the lights. Susan put on her dress, sliding the black tarred sex up her waved skin. The lamps and shafts of metal shook and erupted, shaking the lights until it became a blinding interpretation of a night out, void of colour but full of all the lube that was required. She felt the cold metal behind her, but was conflicted by it. Not knowing whether she liked it or not, yet she was in the mood to find out. Comfortable to undress in front of Mathew was one thing, but she was unsure if she was ok with advertising her skin to the world. Maybe if I stayed ignorant to who saw this stuff? She thought to herself as she pulled the dress over her chest, fixing it to make it comfortable.

  Loud bang, that loud metallic bang went straight to Susan as she positioned her legs on the white stage. It was the sound of his camera as he took a test shot. Every time she heard the sound, it came at her with a slapped wrist. Slowing the frames down until she saw everything in still images, no montage bullshit. Just lost and tormented by the blinding lights. She wasn’t used to the white that white, the white that made the room seem like it had no walls. It blended them together with the sheet, making the room seem like an endless sea of depraved white. With that, the door swam away until she could no longer see the boundaries of the room. It wasn’t an uncomfortable experience, just unusual, like sleeping on a water bed.

  Mathew directed her where to go telling Susan to prop herself up like a doll and fire her hip towards the camera. Mathew was gentle about the whole thing, constantly asking if she was comfortable and what not. Regardless of what question he would frame with a smile, she would always say she was good. Mainly to impress, and partly because she wanted to get it over with.

  That click, that annoying click, born from metallic porn videos, played itself across the entire night. Right behind the origin of the sound, the camera, was Mathew. He had a confident smile with edges of trust tearing their way up to his eyelids. Nothing extreme just that kind of look Susan would rely on. She trusted him and his soft grip. With his smile and her motivated hunger she didn’t care too much to debate the situation extensively.

  The night grew to a very quiet climax, it felt good, it was satisfying but sparks didn’t seep out from the camera. With a few more photos left, Mathew dragged Susan around with his orchestral fingers. Growing with comfort she danced about the place, swinging the loose ends of her dress. The first half of the shoot she was balancing on top of a pair of high heels. They were cousins to a pair of Swedish knives. As the night went on she gave up on them and threw them near the table, freeing and rubbing her heels.

  A few photos were enough. Mathew had taken sufficient angles of the black product for him to be satisfied with the shoot. Calling for a quick break he went to go get a drink. He hadn’t told her that they were finished so she leaned on the butt of the table sipping on the plastic lips of her bottle of water. After he left the room she didn’t have much to look at, which left Susan to caress the texture of her dress. It was silky with large strips of black going down the middle made from a rougher touch. Four end bits ripped to the bottom under her knee. She grabb
ed one and swung it around like a piece of rope.

  Mathew entered the room once more with his own fizzy drink from the atrium. “How much is left to shoot? I don’t wanna rush ya… just curious.” She said with a puppy smile smathered across her faintly lipsticked lips. He paused for a moment dealing with a very heavy breath as he thought about what to say next.

  “A few more photos, a little bit more experimental I guess. We’ll just go along with it and if you want to stop, then I’ll bow before you my queen.” He said lowering his back and stretching his arms out like an albatross. The gesture made Susan laugh, easing her naked armpits.

  Susan perched her heels once more onto the sheet of white. She raised them until she barely any connection to the earth. It was difficult enough, shaking from side to side, as she struggled to maintain balance. He looked at her for a moment and consumed all the clean edges that she portrayed. Abrupt cold images of every other shoot he had ever done harpooned into his view. All he saw was the generic bending of the back and protruding of the hip. With all of that digging its way through him he felt almost disappointed, lacking in what he had felt before for Susan. It had to be rectified.

  As she fell from high arched heels, Mathew dropped his camera and rested it by his hip with his little finger hooked around the strap.

  “Alright I think I have enough of you in that thing” he said as he eyed her up and down.

  “How about you get back into those sweat pants... a few snaps... see what happens. The night is early anyways.” Looking over at the pile of sweated bundle of cloth on the table. Susan was surprised at the gesture, shocked at the concept, intrigued by the implications. It was all very interesting shit.

  He closed in on her touching her exposed shoulder with the tips of his fingers. His camera was locked into his palm refusing to give up. All she saw was the shadow that he casted on her. His walled shoulders blocked out all the professional lights.

  “A few photos, that’s all I’m asking, to show the real you, the essence of you”

  “The real me isn’t a bag of sweaty clothes, what if I don’t want to show myself that way?” she said with strong arms.

  “I get that, and you are far more than that, you are someone who is confident to show themselves in casual clothing. That’s rare to find in this industry... Just a bit of fun, if you aren’t happy with them then I will throw them out and burn them. It would mean that I would have to print them first but... you know what I mean... ill delete them... ok?” Mathew said with his eyes rested on her slowly burying the idea beneath her eyelids.

  She didn’t know how to feel really, first she was interested, and then the thought of her appearing that way in front of people completely swept her legs from under her. But Mathew saying that she could delete them if she saw fit convinced her to at least attempt.

  Next came the strip, the gentle folding of the black seeped dress of unobtainable wealth and the cold nude walk over to her messy bundle of clothes. He prepped the lighting once more, but instead of having a clean slate of white spread across the room, he opted for a faintly purple maroon glow. It was all quiet, with the room preparing itself for the slow play of the piano. It wasn’t a sad scene, rather a delicately touched scene that could only handle the faint notes from a keyboard. Any base and Susan would have been knocked to her knees, begging to stand again.

  She walked over to the purple shaded sheet. It reflected the coloured light through the room, bouncing from pipe to shoulder. He held his camera with an erected grip. The pause in between each shot was longer than usual, in which he took a pondered amount of time looking at each photo, as if trying to burn the image into his head. With that Susan saw his eyes growing tired, not knowing if it was because of the darker and closer atmosphere or the fact that Mr Black was creeping up on both of them. The longer she thought about it, the more Mr Black crawled up the inside of her sweat pants. She refused to say she was tired, desperately trying to maintain her good impression.

  Another click, once more the metal from the camera clashed against her ear drums. She had drowned it over the course of the night but when Mathew asked her to turn her back to the camera, the noise jumped into the fray of her mind. Annoying, full stop. All she saw was the sheet rise up to the ceiling. Striking a pose she looked for her shadow, but was left disappointed when she realised the lights had cut her shadow out of the equation.

  “How about we make this a bit more playful.” Mathew dropped his finger to the floor gesturing Susan to get on her knees. It was an unpleasant finger to look at, but the night was already in motion so she felt like she had to abide. Susan bent her knees and filled her palms with the soft papery texture of the sheet below her. A growl of a lion howled quietly from Susan. She crawled across the ground like a toy and Mathew was the child who had an obsession with castles made from dirt. The lights around her slowly faded into a pinker shade, changing the appearance of her silhouette. Her clothes looked sloppy but no longer looked dirty with the light covering the natural stained shades.

  Her sleeve slipped up her arm letting the ringed skin of her tattoo breath into the air. A few more flashes came slamming into the shoot. The camera stretched its muscles for work, for Mathew to have some quiet pleasure. Susan fumbled around the floor, like a depraved cat, prowling for its owner that held a cup of sloppy food. She raised her hips to the piped sky, leaving a large gap beneath her stomach. She was bent, curled, torn form nothing, just malleable and horny meat. It came naturally and left Susan surprised with a side that she had never thought existed. Would ya look at that, she is learning something new about herself. What a place and time to reflect upon one self.

  That bang, once more that bang and again that scratching metal slippery bang. Each clapper sound from the camera was accompanied by a flash smearing the purple and pink mixed background. The flash scared the colours away. Each bang the purple streamed itself across the sheet and under the arch that was Susan, as if trying to escape the incessant howls from the camera. Susan was oblivious to the migration of the colour, focusing her holed attention to a strange feeling that hung from her belly button.

  “Hey roll up your sleeve again, I want to see that tattoo fully for the camera.” He said with the camera having replaced his eyes.

  She rolled up her sleeve wrapping it behind her elbow. Dragging her calves across the sheet she found new modelling poses within her. It was new and exciting, tantalising the skin of her sweatpants thighs. First she shifted about as a lion, then a cat, pretty much the same thing really. Then her animalistic movements morphed into that of some sort of sexually prepped flamingo. Now perked up bending her knees was the crux of her priorities. Along with the zoo of sex, she still felt rather strange. Rather strange indeed.

  The bang once more drew her from her placed thoughts, wrapping her head around her bent knees and protruding ass. She expected herself to be confused by the whole scenario and her attire, but all she thought about was an empty desire to imitate something. Flashes of Josey came rolling in with confidence leaving Susan desperate for the chance to copy someone older and more experienced. But it was just her and Mathew.

  Moments within the shoot were stabbed by loose images of Josey. Feeling this she grabbed her tattoo on her wrist with a soft fear. It was reactionary, unknown. Her face moved with it as well, leaving a sour expression sprayed from eye to eye. Mathew pulled his salivating lips from the screen of the camera and looked at Susan with an expression of confusion. She quickly adjusted and fixed her face.

  Different animalistic poses taunted her, all she had left to play around with was the generic cat and the somewhat overused flamingo. Regardless of how common they were they got the bent job done and for Susan’s first time they were sufficient.

  That fucking bang tormented the sheet once more, shattering its metal limbs up Susan’s calves. Her heels were tortured by it, leaving her to fondle the idea of ending the night. It wasn’t as simple as the idea presented itself to be in her mind. It was undeniably s
trange making her both enjoy and emphasise what she had for curves and fear showing too much. The metallic clap from the camera grounded her fear. Each banged scrape made the shoot last even longer. All in all she pounced she beast-like across the landscape of Mathew’s private photoshoot.

  Then she thought about her own curves as she raised her right leg. Within the stretched thigh, sharp thoughts about Josey made their way up the inside of her sweat pants again. It was uncomfortable to say the least, leaving Susan with the lonely clap of the camera. With one last photo she stopped in her tracks and relaxed her legs to the ground. The purple stayed adamant, throwing its body of colour all over Susan’s back. Mathew pulled his camera down, respecting her wishes. It was late anyways and his eyes were so filthily burnt is that he was somewhat glad she decided to end it.

  He left the purple tinted light on as Susan walked over to the screen of Mathew’s camera. She looked at the photos, snapping between the various poses she flung at the lens. She had no idea that her poses looked so vulnerable. The face that she advertised was entirely different to the one she stared at on the camera. It was unsettling to that side of her, but yet she was glad that she did it staring up at his ignorantly pleased expression. It was by far a confusing moment for her. On one wet hand she enjoyed exposing herself. It tickled her liberated senses, which was a fresh and exciting new feeling. And on the other hand, she felt bare and uncomfortable.

  The purple laced tint of her filthy advertisement emphasised that natural feeling for privacy. In the end it was these two rather simple emotions that rubbed against one another pushing Susan into a corner as she looked at the photos of herself from top to bottom. Beneath her shaking surfaces however was a fondling desire to copy the models in the agency to improve her poses. That one desire, that one banged feeling dug its judgemental fingernails into her decision. Afraid that others would see the photos she asked Mathew to delete them.

  “I’m glad you asked and all, but I really don’t want these pictures to represent me. Ya know” She said with arms wrapped around her comfy clothes.

  “I will, don’t worry. But... why. You know what never mind. I’ll just get rid of them ASAP.” The words slipped out from under his upper lip with a subtle hum of hesitance. She nodded accepting his words for the gospel that they were.

  And with that the shoot was over, left to scratch its own scalp for more photos of fleshy bar thighs and darkly dirty skin. It was all good, with both of them celebrating with flirty gestures and rubs. The night was over for the camera, but it lasted long between the two waiting for the climax of the night. Mr Black didn’t get much action so he was delighted to see some form of sexually explicit content before him. Grey was entertaining herself outside the agency enjoying the quiet play of car lights that drove past.

  With everything perfectly packed back to the packets that they came in, Mathew hid his camera within its bag.

  Susan remained in her calm clothes, seeing as she had nothing else to slip into. And with that they were left to their own ticklish fun. Late in the night, she left the studio room expecting him to follow. Out in the hall Susan walked up to the window to the front of the building. The spit lights of the hall covered her neck and back. The door to the studio was left open which allowed the purple glow to slither out of the room. With each step that she took the purple faded away the slightest bit, being replaced to the quiet hums from the white walls of the hall. Then with one swift click the lights from the studio went out, draining all the electrified maroon from the pipes.

  Gluing herself to the window she threw her view outside onto the pavement. A few people walked around, just enough to count with the tips of her fingers. The yellow shouts form the street lights collapsed onto Grey fading into her trampled body. It was one of those nights where legs rested with bags of blankets and comfort food to reel in from the previous night.

  The clicks were gone, which allowed the subtle hums of the walls to play with her ear drums. Between it all, a base, subtly built, grew into the hall. Just a few invisibly bounced bases. They reverbed against the walls zig zagging until they reached Susan who leaned on the glass. She recoiled with discomfort at the sound. She turned around with speed to look down the hall. Mathew was walking, simply walking through the long hall unknowingly pushing the base with him. Camera bag in one hand and tired fingers huddled in the other, he moved towards Susan. The closer he got the more he saw an awkward expression from Susan. She was battling with an imaginary base sound that had crawled all the way down the hall and into her skull. It was almost like a culmination of every new sound she was subjected to through the night. Mathew closed in on Susan trying to dig into her eyes in order to see her problem, but he was left confused.

  They latched onto one another, she weak from the hounding and colourless base that punched her stomach and Mathew exhausted from his shoot. She was tired resting her arms and head into his chest trying to drown out the sound. The base still existed, it grew to a subtle hollow clatter in her head. With her hands over ears trying to drag the sound out from her hairline she lost the strength in her knees. Mathew held her, keeping her afloat while simultaneously letting the base pass through him. He was unaware of it and the clap of the camera all night long, but he did his best to alleviate whatever seemed to bother her.

  Grabbing onto the buttons of his shirt she closed her eyes. Dropping his camera by his foot, he wrapped his arms around her to comfort. Neither of them knew what was happening. Neither of them cared too much, enjoying the warm skin of each other’s embrace. Exhaustion is what they eventually categorised it as.

  Those rare moments when there is nothing to think about, where the sound of your own thoughts slept while you remained awake. They are gold, expensive to those who never experienced it, and cheap to those who use it regularly. Susan enjoyed the quiet. With that, with all of that, with the deleted photos, with Mathews warm arm, with a blanket wrapped around her, Susan carried the gentle body of her own silent thoughts out of the agency.

  She cooed it, scratching its underbelly desperately trying to build a lasting connection. This bizarre pet had the sudden disappearance from the base to thank. The hall had softened to a quiet, which allowed Susan to indulge the imaginary pet that curled in her arms. Savouring the paws of her silence she walked to the car. She didn’t know where she was going, passively following Mathew as he directed them to his car. She slid across the pavements as she held her ignorance between her chest. It was a furry thing with hidden black skin. Its claws were well groomed almost afraid of the fact that it had claws, knowingly cutting them to blunt.

  The car door opened and before Susan registered where she was she was laid along the passenger seat. Mathew struggled to fix the seatbelt around her. Susan forgot everything she did soon after she did it.

  Then the night flopped. Mr Black tried to stimulate himself, but was left dry by the lack of people that roamed the streets. Mathew and Susan drove back to her place to rest, to bed the pet that cooed and cried in her lap. All Mathew saw was Susan passed out in the car seat, exhausted from the late night, vastly different to what Susan saw. Thinking to himself that it was probably a mistake to do the shoot that late he kept one eye on her. She wasn’t in any immediate danger yet he felt a tether to her that every so often forced him to look at her and the folds of her sweatpants.

  Susan was now entirely focused on silence. The pet had replaced very single damn fear that she ever had. Everything had swept away and it was the most beautiful feeling she had ever felt. She couldn’t think about why or how. She was just rolling in the ecstasy, it’s all she needed, just a quiet moment with a beautiful pet resting in her arms.

  It just happened with the random knocks of base and the building of the claps from the camera. It existed due to a mix of tiredness and overload of conflicted worries. Its simple existence is what made the pet so fucking adorable in the cusp of her closed pupils. Before she knew it she was wrapping the furry pet with a blanket from her bed.

&nbs
p; Once again Mathew tucked her in and the usual. He was used to her nature and the unapologetic edges that formed her. Not much left to say really. She slept like a baby with one hand between her crotch and the other rubbing her pet. No innuendo intended. And Mathew slept beside her for it was too late to drive home and he wasn’t finished smelling her yet. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounded ok.