Tats Too: The Case of the Devil's Diamond

by Layce Gardner

  “How long have you had it?”

  “A month or so.”

  “And you just carry it around in your purse because there’s no telling when it might come in handy?” I say.

  “I packed it in my purse right before we blew up the house,” she answers. “Look,” she continues, punching a hidden button on the inside of the harness, ejecting the dildo, then snapping it back on with an audible click. “It attaches and detaches to the harness just like that.”

  She looks at me proudly like she just performed some fascinating sleight of hand. She holds the dildo right in front of my face for me to admire its beauty. “It’s called a grape powercock. It’s nine inches of dense synthetic material molded after the finest cocks known to man. It won’t break, crack or burn. The material was developed by a rocket scientist.”

  She pushes another little button right about where its balls would be if it had balls. “It even vibrates.”

  I cross my arms.

  Vivian looks at me quizzically, turns it off, and frowns, “Why do you look so mad? You said we could try out some toys.”

  “You packed a dildo? You told me there wasn’t enough room to pack an extra pair of jeans, but there’s enough room to pack a dildo?”

  “It’s not just any dildo.” She taps the head of it on my shoulder as she overenunciates each syllable, “This is a grape powercock.”

  “A fruit-colored dildo,” I correct, brushing it away.

  “That vibrates.” She holds it in both palms and gazes at it lovingly. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  “It’s purple. You hate purple.”

  It’s Vivian’s turn to be exasperated. She sighs. “It’s grape, not purple.”

  “What’s the fucking difference?”

  She winds up into a sales pitch. “It glows in the dark, too. It’s made by NASA, Lee. You can boil this thing and it won’t melt, you know that? It’s microwave safe. They send astronauts to the moon wearing this exact same stuff.”

  “It’s rubber, Viv, and you can’t tell me that NASA is in the dildo-making business. I would think that buying a dildo for us, if it really is for us, is something that we would do together. Not in secret then hide it away in your damn purse. And out of all the things you could’ve packed, you pack a friggin’ dildo? I could’ve had another change of clothes.”

  She points the damn thing right at my chest and half-shouts, “It won’t burn! That’s why I packed it. Imagine this: our house explodes and everything burns to the ground and all that’s left in the smoldering rubble is this grape powercock! Is that the kind of legacy you want to leave our child?”

  I put my finger right on the tip of the dildo and move its aim away, saying, “Don’t point that thing at me.”

  Vivian quickly shucks off her panties and steps out of them saying, “Oh, I’m going to do more than point it at you.”

  I snort a laugh. “Riiiight.”

  She steps one foot at a time into the leg holes of the harness and yanks the whole contraption up. She tightens the buckles around her hips, saying through clenched teeth, “I took the time and trouble to pack it and carry it halfway to goddamn Vegas, so by God, I’m sure as hell going to use it.” She swings her hips at me, poking me in the knee with her purple dick.

  I laugh nervously. “Don’t jab me with that thing, Vivian.”

  She puts a hand on each of my knees, spreads my legs, moving in close to me and saying, “Oh, I’ll jab you with it all right.”

  Vivian usually touches me with a very light feathery touch that drives me to the brink of madness. But this time her hands feel strong and sure of themselves. She forces my thighs further apart and leans in to me. She kisses me hard, sucking my bottom lip between her teeth. I feel her tits rubbing my tits and the tip of her dick pressing into me.

  Jesus…I moan into her mouth. I just can’t help it. I don’t want to, but…

  She moves her lips to my ear. She knows my ears are my weak spot. She knows that and she goes straight for my vulnerable spot, darting her tongue in and out of my ear and whispering low and sultry, “I want to fuck you so bad.”

  She can be so nasty. The kind of nasty that melts all my resolve and makes me beg for more.

  I move my hands to her bare ass and pull her against me. Her hard dick presses into me and her tongue is warm and wet in my ear. I move my hips against hers and…

  She presses in to me all soft skin and erect nipples and wetness and one hard dick between my twitching thighs, and she says low as she nibbles on my earlobe, “Are you scared?”

  “A little, yeah,” I admit. “I’ve never done this before. Not this way, I mean,” I amend.

  “Really?” She grins. That’s when I know she’s as turned on by me being a little scared as I am about being so vulnerable.

  “Should I be scared?” I whimper, as she teases my clit with her thumb. I feel the muscles in my lower back clench and my hips strain toward hers.

  “Absolutely,” she says, easing her dick inside me only an inch or so.

  “Viv…” I gasp. “Nine inches…”

  “You can handle it,” she says, rolling my right nipple between her thumb and finger. “You can handle all of it.” She lowers her mouth and sucks my nipple between her teeth.

  “Oh…God.”

  She straightens back up, pulls her dick out and commands, “Turn around.”

  “I don’t want to,” I mumble.

  She reaches down with her right hand and I hear a faint click. Then I feel the length of the cock vibrating against my thigh. She holds her dick in her hand and rubs it lightly between my legs, teasing, never quite letting it touch where I want it the most. She goes back to my ear, the other ear this time, alternating hot breath and wet tongue.

  “Okay, I want to.”

  Vivian grabs my hips and spins me around. She pushes me down over the scooter seat with my ass in the air. She holds her vibrating cock against my pussy and the sharp tingles send little ecstatic pinpricks all the way to my toes.

  “Do you want me?” she asks, rotating her hips against my ass.

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  She guides her cock inside me.

  “Oh, God…”

  “More?” she asks.

  “More.”

  She pushes in further and I gasp out loud from the pure heat of it. I want all of her inside me. I lift up on my elbows, press my ass against her, hard, as hard as I can, and take her fully inside me. My body takes over, and I’m driven purely by a deep primal need, I feel myself meet her hips halfway with each thrust, each time she slams fully inside me a moan escapes my lips, and when she pulls back I almost cry because I want her back inside me so bad.

  She grips my hips with her hands and fucks me hard without pausing and all I know is I want her to fuck me even harder.

  “Oh God Vivian oh God.”

  “Touch yourself while I fuck you,” she says between thrusts. “Make yourself come for me.”

  I move my hand down and I’ve never felt myself so wet before. I stroke my clit in rhythm with her strokes and I feel myself building…God no, I don’t want this to ever end…

  “Do you like to be fucked?” she growls.

  “Oh, God.”

  “Tell me thank you,” she orders.

  “Oh God,” is the only thing I can say.

  “Tell me thank you,” she says, pounding me even harder.

  “Thank you,” I say breathlessly. “Oh, God.”

  “Say thank you for the grape powercock, Vivian,” she says.

  I almost laugh. Until her next thrust takes my breath away.

  “I love your ass,” she says, her hands kneading my cheeks.

  “Don’t put it in my ass. Don’t even think about it,” I say between breaths.

  “Then you better say thank you. Thank you for the powercock.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my words keeping time with my hand and her fucking, “God, Vivian, thank you for the powercock.”

  And then I come so hard…so viol
ent… A roman candle goes off somewhere deep inside and ricochets around before exploding through the top of my head.

  Vivian wraps her arms around me and holds me up… She’s still all the way inside me, filling me up…holy shit…

  I shake for a good five minutes and she holds me the entire time. After I finally catch my breath and the tremors end, she pulls out of me. I hear a small click and something heavy falls to the ground.

  It makes me giggle.

  Vivian giggles, too, and we sink down to the ground together. She wraps me in her arms and legs.

  “I liked that,” she whispers. “I really really liked that. It made me feel so powerful. The only thing my powercock can’t do is pee-write your name in the sand.”

  I laugh. “You’re dangerous with a dick. You know, if I’m not allowed to carry a gun, I really don’t think you should be allowed to carry a powercock.”

  Vivian laughs and grabs the dildo off the ground. She holds it up like it’s a gun and blows on the smoking barrel.

  We both laugh.

  “Can I wear it now?” I ask.

  “Nope,” she says, hiding it behind her back. “Get your own grape powercock.”

  I just may do that. After I sleep…

  ***

  I wake up in the middle of the night with one jarring thought clanging around inside my skull: Does a scooter count as a motorcycle and, if so, can I mark number four off my bucket list?

  ***

  I have sand in every orifice. What was fun last night doesn’t feel so fun today. Vivian and I woke up at dawn, assumed pretzel mode and rode the scooter the last thirty miles into Las Vegas. We both squirmed the whole way like that was going to help get the grit out of our cracks.

  Traffic bottlenecks as soon as we hit the city limits sign. The good thing about a scooter is that you can weave around traffic and go places that even a motorcycle can’t fit—like up on the sidewalk. We get so many stares and honks and go-to-hells thrown our way that Vivian finally just rides with her middle finger extended the whole time.

  The town is lit up like Christmas even in broad daylight. I’ve never seen so many lights and cars and just plain ol’ weirdos walking the streets. Las Vegas is a breeding ground for the deranged.

  Walking down the sidewalk is a guy who’s dressed up like Jesus dragging a cross made out of rugged 6 x 6 timbers. And walking along in Jesus’s wake is another guy in a Superman outfit, complete with the little forehead curl. Jesus is sweating bad, all red in the face and looks plumb tuckered. If Superman was really the nice guy he’s all cracked up to be, he’d help Jesus out with that cross.

  Geesh, I need to get out of this traffic before the sensory overload kills me. The smells alone are outrageous: plenty of body odor, a collage of perfumes, hamburgers, car exhaust, hot tar…There’s so much going on my nose is dancing the jitterbug.

  Vivian’s all excited, though. Bouncing up and down on the seat like a little kid, pointing out all the interesting sights. “Looky looky look!” she shouts as I guide Squiggy (I’ve named the scooter Squiggy in my head) down the famous strip past the Welcome to Las Vegas sign that you see in all the movies. “It’s like they took every famous city in the world and just plunked it right smack dab in the middle of the desert! The Trump building looks like a giant Willie Wonka chocolate bar with the golden ticket wrapped around it! Look! Donny and Marie! Mom would shit her pants! Look, Lee! It’s the Eiffel Tower all lit up! It’s just like being in Paris except there’s no stinky French people. I don’t know why they call Paris the City of Lights. This is way more lit up than Paris.”

  “City of Lights?” I mumble, “La Ville Lumière…” Where have I heard that?

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Vivian asks in my ear.

  “Are you thinking you’d like to play with your tits?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” I say.

  “You can play with my tits later,” she says. “Let’s go gamble! I’ve never played a slot machine before.”

  “We don’t have any money, Viv.”

  “Money schmoney,” she pffttss me. “We have ten dollars that nice man gave us. Just find a place to park.”

  ***

  I pull into the Bellagio Hotel with the wicked cool dancing water fountains and kick Squiggy down on the sidewalk near the entrance. I leave the key in it. I don’t really care if I ever see that damn scooter again. I’ll buy the alien kid a nicer one if I ever manage to get out of this alive.

  I follow Viv’s red flannel inside the hotel doors and we gawk like the tourists we are at the expansive lobby.

  Holy cow. This is some truly crazy shit. Everything about this place is gold: gold lighting, gold fabric, gold carpet, gold ceilings…

  Vivian follows the sounds of reels spinning and bells ringing into the casino. She plops down at the nearest slot machine, hangs her purse over her knee and holds her hand out to me, saying, “Ten dollars, please.”

  I pull the wrinkled bill out of my pocket and hand it to her.

  “I’m feeling lucky,” she says and kisses the bill.

  “Don’t kiss that,” I say, “you don’t know where it’s been.”

  “I’ve kissed worse,” she says, flapping the back of her hand across the crotch of my pants. She sticks it in the money slot and it sucks the bill right up. I have a feeling that’s the last we’ll ever see of it.

  Vivian looks over all the buttons and punches the one that says play one line. Then she punches the one dollar button, giving herself ten spins.

  I put my hands on back of her chair and watch over her shoulder as the reels spin faster than you can see. They slow… and tick to a stop.

  Nothing. “I think you’re supposed to get all the same kind of fruit in a row. Like three apples in a row. Or limes. Or cherries.”

  “I know that much, Lee, I’m not totally stupid.”

  “Sevens are wild. You could get two cherries and one seven and still win. But they have to be in a row.”

  “Ssshhh,” she admonishes me. “I’m concentrating here.”

  She laces her fingers together and cracks her knuckles.

  “You got nine more spins,” I say.

  “Shut your piehole,” she says, shoving me back behind her chair. She taps the yellow play button with her fingernail. The reels spin again.

  Tick, tick, tick… Nothing.

  She blows on her hands and hits play again. They spin.

  And tick. And nothing.

  “You only got seven more spins, Viv,” I say.

  “I only need one.”

  She does it again.

  Nothing.

  “Six,” I say.

  “You’re bad luck,” she says, waving me away. “Go stand over there behind that old lady.”

  I back up a couple of steps and stick my hands in my pockets. I can’t believe we’re standing here in a casino playing slots. Everybody knows what a sucker game it is.

  It spins again. She has five left.

  Five bucks blown in less than one minute. It’s not like ten dollars was going to get us anywhere, but—

  Two lemons and one apple. She got close on that one.

  —that’s not the point. I guess there really is a sucker born every minute because—

  A seven and a cherry and a lime. Three left.

  —there’s lots of suckers in here. Most of these people look like their rent money is going in the slot machines—

  An alarm rings. Holy shit, that’s loud. I stick my fingers in my ears and see that a policeman’s light on the top of Viv’s slot machine is going round and round and lights are flashing and bells are dinging and the alarm is whooping—

  —Vivian jumps up and down and grabs me around the neck, screaming, “I won! I won! I won! Can you believe it?”

  What the hell?

  People surround us and a few cameras flash and Vivian is still hopping and I go over to get a closer look at her machine. Lights are blazing round and
round and the machine is vibrating back and forth like a…I don’t know…like a vibrator, I guess. Where’s the coins? If she won, where’s the coins? I thought they were supposed to tumble out of the machine. Aren’t they?

  “A quarter of a million!” I hear somebody yell. “Hey, Martha! Look! She won a jackpot!”

  I turn around and a couple of camera flashes go off in my face.

  “Jackpot!” Somebody else yells.

  Vivian grabs me again and grins. “I just won a quarter million dollars! How d’ya like them apples?” she says, pointing to a straight line of red apples on the slot machine.

  “A quarter million?” I gasp.

  A crowd five people deep surrounds us and I happen to look over their heads and see a giant video screen up on the wall. And there we are. Me and Vivian standing in front of the whooping slot machine with a crowd of people circling us. The video is live. I know it’s live because when I wave at myself, my video self waves back.

  A big, beefy security guard worms his way through the crowd and grabs Vivian by the elbow, saying, “Come with me, lady.”

  Vivian starts to leave with him, but I grab her other elbow and stop them. “Where you taking her?”

  “To the cashier to get her check,” he says, then laughs. “What’d you think, a quarter of million in coins is going to come outta that machine?”

  “No!” I shout maybe a little too loud.

  “What do you mean, no?” Vivian asks.

  “Give us a sec,” I say to the guard. I pull Vivian aside and whisper, “They’re gonna need your name and social and all kinds of shit to cut you a check. We can’t be giving that information out. This whole town is Mafia owned. Your name pops up like that and we’re sitting ducks.”

  Vivian turns to the security guard and asks, “Can I have an IOU?

  “No,” the guard bullies, “you want your money or not?”

  I glance over their heads back to the screen and see something I really don’t like. A couple of Goodfellas in silk shirts unbuttoned to their navels are working their way toward us and whispering hard at each other. They keep looking at Vivian and then talking into their big gold watches like how those Secret Service guys do. One guy picks up a walkie-talkie and speaks into it. A second later the security guard turns his back on Vivian and holds his own walkie-talkie to his ear.