A TINY PENIS intrudes from the bottom of the frame. It can only belong to TIM. His enormous fingers begin to nudge and squeeze the head roughly, making it grow.
TIM OC:
(in lewd rhythm, accenting the second syllable)
Di-ANE. Di-ANE. Oh, Di-ANE.
After a minute or so of this, TIM’S PENIS is fully erect, and still unimpressive.
TIM OC:
(rasping)
Take it in your MOUTH, Di-ANE.
Take it in your lovely MOUTH.
The ringtone again. More PM’s. I was transported with bliss. But Diane’s face remained impassive; not a muscle moved in her broad, wide-eyed smile, unmindful of that stumpy crayon of a worried penis hovering two inches above her mouth.
TIM OC:
(his voice strangely familiar; even more creepy and quavery)
Taste my SEMEN, Di-ANE. Taste my SEMEN.
Ready, Darling? Here cums.
We hear a series of ascending groans, almost a shout, and finally a catching in the throat signaling TIM’S climax.
Line one rang. I checked the caller ID: home. The answering machine caught it on the fourth ring. Diane, sounding equable, wanting me to call her back whenever I had a spare minute.
A tiny clear bead catches on the tip of DIANE’S nose, followed by a generous drooling teardrop that covers her right eye and spreads over a portion of her forehead.
TIM OC:
(Short huffs of breath)
Di-ANE!
A copious flood of semen all but obscures Diane’s face. Her features blur and bleed together as Tim’s seeping ooze dissolves the colored ink. TIM’S PENIS withdraws from the bottom of the frame.
TIM OC:
Hell of a mess, Di-ANE GALEER.
FADE OUT
I recognized the voice now: Lieutenant Grimm. No doubt about it. But how had he made the connection and figured out it was my Diane? Maybe the distinctive floral wallpaper in the can from my beating off video had tied these postings to me in his mind. He was a trained investigator. Then I remembered: there had been pictures of Diane displayed on my desk the night Grimm and company searched the office.
The video looped and began again, letting me watch Diane’s face melt a second and yet a third time before I reluctantly closed the window.
At least I knew I was in no immediate danger of arrest from Lieutenant Grimm, although presumably he knew everything. Knew my identity as well as Diane’s. Heart went without saying. I had done everything but post her address and phone number.
Still visualizing Grimm’s pink-as-a-pig dork, I reflected on the fact that all of us are pigs. We look like pigs, smell like pigs, eat like pigs, fuck like pigs. We’re like the cast of a science fiction movie: Planet of the Pigs. We’re every one of us dispensable and interchangeable as pigs. A day-old shave on a man’s face or a woman’s leg or pussy has bristles that feel just like a pig’s to the touch. Even our shit stinks like pig manure. In the old days when they used to fry murderers in the electric chair, the witnesses claimed the post-execution odor hanging in the air afterwards smelled exactly like pork roast piping hot from the oven. Grimm was a pig for doing what he did and I was a pig for giving him the opportunity and watching him do it.
More PM’s. Pig messages. Pigs messaging pigs. Pigs masturbating on pics posted by other pigs. More and more pigs bearing tributes to Diane, six in all, and seventy-eight hits in under thirty minutes. Heart was threatening to edge Diane in the tribute competition with four videos and forty-nine hits already. In fairness, Diane’s pics had been uploaded earlier than Heart’s. A person claiming to be a woman admired my video in clinical terms so unabashed and prose so purple I suspected her of being a female impersonator.
I had an email. I switched screens. It was from Howard, saying only “I forgot to give you this,” with a huge attachment entitled ARLENE AND HER GOING AT IT.
I minimized Webcam Show and Tell and tried downloading Howard’s attachment. Several minutes went by; it hung up on the first attempt so I tried again, going to the can in the meantime because a watched pot never boils, or something like that.
Once it was downloaded and saved I had trouble getting it to open. Finally I realized the best solution was to go to the HSS icon and designate My Documents as the video source. In moments the attachment began to play.
INT. ARLENE AND HOWARD KUHN’S MASTER BEDROOM. DAY.
A well-lit comfortably appointed bedroom. The security camera has been hidden at eye level.
ARLENE KUHN, a middle-aged overweight round-shouldered brunette woman, enters, then turns and beckons to someone off camera. She wears grey sweatpants and sweatshirt, and big wraparound sunglasses like you get at the eye doctor’s, the kind old women wear after cataract surgery. She is trying to act seductive but comes off sounding rather like a taunting child. Her speaking voice is nasal and unpleasant.
ARLENE:
Don’t be such a chickenshit, I already
seen what you got in the shower room
at the health club. You saw me lookin’.
And I caught you lookin’ at me, too.
ARLENE wriggles out of her baggy sweatshirt to reveal a huge flesh-colored bra and a belly not unlike a sow’s, but with only two tits. Hands behind her head, she pirouettes for her unseen companion. She has dark wisps of armpit hair.
ARLENE:
We both know what you come here for.
ARLENE twists to unhook the bra clasp behind her, letting it fall to the floor. Her cheater tits sag like two half-filled water balloons.
ARLENE:
I know how you like these.
ARLENE peels down her fleece workout pants and bikini panties to reveal a third-world hairy pussy.
ARLENE:
And I know your dirty mind’s on this here.
ARLENE kicks off the rest of her clothes and, primping, balances one foot on the end of the sleigh bed, spreading her genitals for company.
ARLENE:
You can plainly see I ain’t got
nothing to hide. How about you?
Right here’s where we lose them
nasty old inhibitions.
ARLENE stares offscreen in silence more than long enough for any self-conscious woman partner to disrobe.
ARLENE:
That’s more like it. Now bring it on
over here and get friendly;
don’t be a stranger.
ARLENE is apparently met with more coyness; she takes her leg down and opens her
arms in a frank gesture of sexual welcome.
ARLENE:
Come on Sweetie, I ainta gonna
bite’cha. Shit fire, you act like
you never even done this before.
DIANE GALEER, completely nude, steps forward. They embrace and move toward the bed.
CHAPTER SEVEN - A MAN AFTER MY OWN HEART
Eyes riveted to the screen, beginning to doubt my own sanity, I nevertheless relearned the old lesson that pornography, even home-grown amateur porn, is ultimately boring. After an hour’s viewing and reviewing ARLENE AND HER GOING AT IT I actually found myself losing interest. My mind began to wander. Ennui crept in as I continued to observe Diane and Arlene spelunking below the belt, rooting away doing the mattress hokey pokey, Arlene wearing nothing but the geriatric wraparounds. And, as generally occurs whenever I become bored, legal analysis comes to the fore.
Having seen the video, would I now have to give Howard back his five thou because of conflict of interest? Not necessarily; most conflicts could be waived in writing after full and fair disclosure to the client. But how best to approach Howard with the unsettling news that his newly-retained divorce attorney’s wife was the one carrying on with Arlene?
As they teach you in every twelve-step group, one has to focus on the positive. And there were a few pluses in the current situation. First of all, there was that peculiar flood of relief. At last I had something on Diane that I could use against her whenever I wanted. My perfect, church-attending, child-rea
ring unyielding Diane had her Achilles’ heel. Now even if Tyranno made good on his implied threats, as far as my marriage was concerned I was running a dead heat with Diane in the degeneracy department. Second, there was that overpowering sensation of freedom. Perhaps license would be a better word. I deemed myself free to consort with Drey, Heart, perhaps Ruth and even Beattie once I won her release, alone or in combination, without any twinges of guilt whatsoever. I would be no better and no worse than Diane as far as infidelity was concerned.
The church subscribes to the curious teaching that if you’ve broken one commandment you’ve broken them all. The law of the church as well as the law of man is a seamless web, a hologram. I take that to mean that if you’ve sinned once, you might as well sin some more because you’ve already blown it. All those sexual taboos the church had laid on us over the years were beside the point, I told myself now: mere historical accretions, obsolete hang-ups nonessential to salvation and overdue to be discarded by a progressive society like ours. Enlightened Ricky.
The mental release was thoroughly exhilarating. I recognized the emotion: gratitude. I was grateful to Diane for betraying me with another woman. She had given me what I could never have obtained for myself: escape from an impossibly stultifying code of moral behavior. Even the realization that she had shed those forty pounds not for me but rather to make herself attractive to her female paramour failed to ignite jealousy in my newly-illuminated libertine soul.
I felt so good I called Diane at home. Time to have some fun with her. She sounded pleasant, satisfied.
“How’s everything going at the office?”
“Great. How’re things with you?”
“Oh, fine, I guess. When are you planning on coming home? I wanted to go to the health club this afternoon.”
“Really? And how long might that take, do you suppose?”
“Oh, I don’t know; the usual.” Now I understood the underlying reason for Diane’s meticulous care with her personal appearance before her thrice-weekly workouts, why her makeup and hair had to be perfect.
“I have some good news.”
“What’s that?”
“We signed a new divorce client today. Howard Kuhn. Ever heard that name? Howard Kuhn?”
Silence. “Should I have?”
“No reason I can think of. His wife’s name is Arlene. He tells me she’s a member at the same health club as you. How’s that for a coincidence?”
“If you say so.” Long pause. “So who brought up the subject of the health club in the first place?”
“You know me. I always try to conduct a careful and thorough intake interview. You never can tell when some trivial little tidbit of knowledge might prove decisive and crucial.”
“You know what you’re doing, I guess.”
“That’s very true, Diane. No guesswork about it. And what’s more, I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing bad. What I mean is, whatever you may be doing, it’s all right with me. It obviously agrees with you, and I have no problem with it. No problem whatsoever.”
“O-kay,” Diane said uncertainly.
“Well, I just wanted to check in and see how you were.”
“Are you coming home now? It’s nearly lunchtime.”
“In a while. Let me wrap up a few loose ends before I shut things down. Maybe you’d better go ahead and eat without me.” I suppressed a laugh at that one.
“Well, don’t work too hard.”
“Don’t worry; I won’t. Don’t you, either.”
I debated actually getting some paperwork done, but decided against it. Instead I went back online and cruised porn sites for hours, checking back intermittently as the tributes streamed in for Diane and Heart. Then I tried Drey’s number again. This time she answered.
“Where have you been, Drey? I’ve been calling you steady.”
“You try me at work?”
“No.”
“Well then, that’s why. I got me them three jobs to go to, remember? Just come home to change into my waitress uniform.”
“Well, if you’re busy—”
“Now don’t go getting’ all limp and fainthearted on me. I always got time for you, Ricky. ‘Specially after yesterday afternoon. You ever hear back from Tyranno?”
“Yeah. So did the cops.”
“What?” She sounded alarmed.
“There was a break-in at my office last night. The detectives listened to Tyranno’s message on my answering machine. Lucky for all of us they didn’t see his email on my Blackberry.”
“They think Tyranno done it?”
“Nah, they already arrested the guy responsible.”
“Sooner or later you’re gonna have to deal with Tyranno, hon. Sooner the better, you want my opinion.”
“I thought you said you could handle him.”
“I already done tried and struck out.”
“What the hell does he want? I hope you told him I have no money, how at meeting after meeting you hear me bitching about how broke I am.”
“Course I told him. What do you think? Trouble is, Tyranno don’t believe neither one of us.”
“Goddamn it, Drey: how could you let this happen? Don’t you have any judgment at all when it comes to who you hook up with?”
“Me? I seem to remember you cumming all over my face same the nigger done. The fuck was you thinking, lettin’ another man put that on video? What the hell’s wrong with you, Ricky? You queer or something?”
“I thought you wanted me to.”
“Oh, so now this is my fault? Wanted you to? Whatever gave you a damn fool idea like that? You ask me, your logic’s fucked up.”
“Let’s not argue, Drey, that’s not why I called you.”
“Why did you call me, then?” Hostile, but malleable I thought.
“I was remembering another thing you said, when it was just the two of us in bed together at your place.”
“What was that?”
“How all I had to do was call whenever I needed you.”
Long silence at her end.
“Remember, Drey? Remember saying that to me? I’ll always remember, and treasure those words of yours.”
Another extended silence; I thought maybe she had hung up, then, “You’re fixin’ to make this girl cry, you know that, Ricky?”
“Happy cry, I hope. Wouldn’t want a sad cry.”
“Happy cry. Where you at now, hon?”
“My office.”
“You busy?”
“Never too busy for you, Drey.”
Still wearing her Cracker Barrel uniform, she made it to the office in the time it took for the little blue pill to dissolve in my stomach. I unlocked the door for her, closed the blinds and greeted her with our very first kiss. Drey was an aggressive tongue-kisser, burrowing hers into my mouth with a persistent and deliberate flutter.
“What kept you?”
“Did I keep you waiting long? Never even took time to go’t the little girls’ room.”
“Go ahead if you want; it’s in the back.” I raced to the computer in my private office as soon as I heard the bathroom door close, clicked on HSS and hit the record button before Drey had time to take down her panties.
An apparition reflected in the monitor caused me to turn around. A seething seven-foot hairless apparition of solid muscle in biker boots, biker jacket and biker chains towered over me. How had he gotten in, silently as a ninja, and moved to a position directly behind me?
There was no escape, so I tried for levity. “Is this where I’m supposed to say Klaatu barada nikto?”
Harold “Snug” Robbins must not have been a science fiction fan. He took one step forward and pulled out the phone cord as easily as if it were a silken thread. He leered at me with anticipation, lacing his powerful fingers and cracking his knuckles in a manner I’d never seen outside of pro wrestling. Despite my terror, or maybe because of it, the little blue pill was busily giving me a hard-on
. Just then I heard Drey’s voice behind me saying, “That’s a load off my mind—Harold! What the shit’re you doin’ here?”
Snug said, “Drey!”
Drey ran and hugged him. He lifted her as effortlessly as if she were a rag doll.
“Ricky, this ol’ boy’s a friend of mine. Harold, Ricky. Ricky, Harold.”
Snug’s expression darkened at the introduction. “This here’s the maggot that’s been committing adultery with my wife.”
“Oh, bullshit, Harold,” Drey said, “only one committing adultery with Ricky here is me. I oughta know. If he’d been porkin’ your wife he’d a bragged about it at the meetings sure as hell. I never heard him mention it once. Plus I been steady wearin’ him out with sex. See, me and him’re whatchacall fuck buddies?” Saying the last like a question.
“That ain’t what I heard.”
“Well you heard wrong, Harold. Matter of fact, before you showed up we was fixin’ to get it on right here on he’s desk—holy fuck shit!” Drey had noticed my monitor, the video still recording. “You mean to tell me you was watchin’ the whole time I was in there tinklin’? Why you tricky little bastard! See how you are?”
I tried a shit-eating grin. “Wanna see?”
Snug leered and said, “Yeah.”
Drey cuffed him on the shoulder, then rubbed her hand and howled, “Ow! That hurt!”
“Have a seat, Harold,” I said uneasily, offering him my chair. Better to have him sitting down, although I didn’t hold out much hope of escaping once he chose to get violent. Heart had said that Snug knew all the crippling moves, that he could ruin a man with his bare hands using pressure and counter pressure. “Here, let me start it for you. Want the earphones?”
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