Dark Matter (Modern Erotic Classics)

by Michael Perkins

  “The sign says ‘By Appointment Only’. I guess you read it.”

  “It was Dollar who sent me.”

  “Who?”

  “She works in the Pussy Palace.”

  His eyebrows clenched around the star tattoo.

  “Shit. Come on in,” he said. He stood aside and I saw her for the first time.

  Her. She was small, but I couldn’t see past her.

  She stood there just staring at me. She was topless, with sweet little buds like on your first girlfriend and a look on her face that I’ll never forget. Like somebody struck by lightning.

  She saw me. She saw that I was somebody special. I heard the door close behind me, but I didn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked. I knew she meant the mirror, so I turned to look at it from the inside. They could see out, but I couldn’t see in. She had been watching me. Maybe she even knew what I’d just gone through.

  “Do what?” I said so she would say something else, so I could draw it out. I couldn’t believe the way she kept staring at me, like I was out of some comic book. I felt big again. It was like she knew me — like she recognised me, you know?

  It was as if she could read my mind — knew what was happening inside me — and that made her nervous. She put her hands up to cover that breast beauty, but she made it like an offering. One nipple poked through her fingers.

  “You were watching me,” I said.

  “You couldn’t see me.”

  “No. But something happened when I looked....”

  I could feel her closing up on me. She was shrinking down into the room like a genie going back into a bottle. I was losing contact with her. And there I was, gawking at her while Star watched me.

  “Pull your thumb out of your ass and sit,” he said.

  He motioned towards a couch and I sat on it, about half a room and acres away from her. I looked around and the room seemed to flow over me in waves. One whole wall was covered with thousands of coloured pictures and designs. It was like the wall was alive — like a hundred little red tongues and fingers and flowers all wanting to be paid attention to, to be picked. In a corner of the room beneath a low lamp there was an island — a white metal sink and table with instruments on it. Jars of stuff.

  She sat on a chair turned to face me and Star picked up something that looked like a dentist’s drill and started working on her back.

  “You messed up my window.”

  “I’ll clean it off for you.”

  “No, I think I like it that way. It’s like a warning curse. In this neighbourhood, that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Mirrors do something to me.”

  “Why do you want a tattoo?”

  “Dollar said it would help identify me to people like me.”

  He raised one bushy eyebrow, like Daddy does.

  “Dollar has a vivid imagination. But with you, she might be right.”

  “Are those the tattoos you do?”

  “Some of them,” he said, moving on light feet to bring a chair so he could sit behind her and lean into his work. I went to look at the wall of images. I didn’t even know what half of them meant. They were all symbols, like there was this secret society of people who recognised each other by them.

  “What kind do you want?” he asked.

  “Something small, but something that stands out. Something with... stones, you know?”

  Star chuckled, shaking his head. “A tat with ‘stones’? A most macho request. You a motorcycle man?”

  “I took a cab.”

  “How about a Japanese fire demon? The Grim Reaper? Nah, too ordinary for you. Am I right?”

  “Something small to start with. So people will see it and know I’m Buddy Tate.” I couldn’t make myself more clear.

  “How about a small Maltese Cross? King Edward the Seventh had one.”

  “I’m not a king, and I don’t like crosses.”

  I was frustrating him. “Well, then. Where do you want one?”

  I thought about that, watching his needle move on her back, wondering about the pain, wondering if I could stand as much. The painting on her back was so beautiful it was awesome. I knew if I got a tattoo, it would have to be one that impressed her.

  Then it came to me. Where I wanted it.

  “I want one on my dick,” I told them both. Star turned off the needle and just stared at me like he was mentally measuring if I had the guts. No attitude. Just considering.

  “Today is my lucky day, I guess. I’m finishing a beautiful back and now I’ve got a penis canvas to work on. How big?”

  He was making fun of me in his own way, I guess, but I didn’t care.

  “I’m pretty good sized.”

  “No, I mean the tattoo.”

  “Small, like I already said.”

  “What do you think, Robin? What kind of brand do we put on Mr. X?” Her name was Robin.

  She turned her head to look at me. It was a cool, long look. Something about her deep blue eyes said she knew exactly who I was and what I was placed on this green earth to do. I started to sweat with that look, trickles running down my ribs, and I couldn’t make any spit.

  “Teeth,” she finally said, showing her own in a hungry smile that was first cousin to a crocodile’s. Ouch.

  I waited to see her breasts again, but she wasn’t going to show them. Teeth she wanted tattooed on my johnson, teeth she would have.

  “Why don’t you take a break, Robin? I’ll take a look and see what this guy’s got to offer me. Maybe you could see about the coffee?”

  She stood up from the chair, one arm covering the sweet things, and put a black leather jacket on. She was a little stick of dynamite. I could tell she had some mean tricks up her sleeve...

  Star kept looking at me like he was sizing me up for a suit or a coffin as he sipped the coffee Robin handed him. She didn’t offer me any.

  “Tell me something about yourself. I like to know the people I’m working on. What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Buddy Tate....”

  “Well?” He cocked one eyebrow again, waiting for more. She was watching me with those piercing blue eyes.

  “...and I’ve got a power in me that everyone can see.”

  “Calm down. Rap’s dead. Just name, rank, and serial number. Where you from?”

  “Just a trailer park somewhere between here and there. Someplace I left.”

  “A typical California immigrant. What brought you to San Francisco? The place is falling apart, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’m looking for a girl,” I told him, looking straight at Robin. I realised I was telling him the truth.

  He laughed. “I give up. Well, don’t be shy, Buddy Tate. Take your pants off or take it out so I can inspect my canvas.”

  Robin came a little closer, and I could see a little scar like an old bite on her chin. It was like a tiny spider, hardly noticeable. We locked eyes again so there was something between us like a beam of light I didn’t want to break. So I didn’t take my eyes from hers while I pulled down my pants.

  She didn’t break contact and look down at my prick for the longest time, and when she did, her expression didn’t change, but I could tell that she was interested. Something flickered in her eyes that I had seen before.

  Something else came to me. She was embarrassed. Like a good little girl who went to church, she was just a little bit embarrassed. If I could find out why she was embarrassed, she might come to me.

  And I wanted her to come to me.

  “You are a specimen, Buddy Tate,” Star said, taking a close look. Even when he touched me I didn’t look at him. As far as I was concerned he could have been in the next room. It was just her looking at me, and me looking at her.

  “You can put that log away now. We’ll have to schedule an appointment for you. Sure you want just teeth? We could put the Eiffel Tower on this one. How about the Golden Gate Bridge?”

  “Do it now, Star,” I told him. “Or
not at all.”

  I wanted to show off to her. It was as simple as that. Boy meets girl, boys shows off to girl, boy fucks girl.... No, maybe it wasn’t that simple. There was something else going on here.

  “I don’t know. I’m just about finished with Robin....”

  “I’d like to see, Star. Do him. You can finish me later.”

  “I don’t know if I have the energy to concentrate....”

  I pulled out the cab driver’s wad and put five twenties in his hand. “Down payment.”

  He considered it. Nodded. “Well, why not? This whole thing is crazy. Stranger just walks in off the street and wants his cock tattooed after he messes up my window, it’s got to be the fickle finger of fate. It’s gotta be.”

  “It’s a strange world,” Robin agreed.

  The three of us stood there looking down at the part of me under discussion, not saying anything. Strange how you make new friends and then everybody gets tongue-tied.

  The doorbell buzzed before I could say anything. Star walked to it, stuffing K. Farouk’s money in his back pocket. Robin turned to see who it was.

  Star opened the door and a white bear stood in the doorway. But he didn’t slam the door and run. He held out his arms to welcome the bear.

  It was Dollar in a white fur coat and a blonde wig. Wild looking.

  “That coat cost a whole family of little animals their lives, Dollar.” Star said to her.

  Dollar looked at me. “Well, don’t just stand there with your dick out.”

  Saved by the bell.

  “Are you following me, Dollar? What are you doing here? And why are you wearing that coat?” Robin’s voice was hard and flat, like she was used to giving orders, at least to Dollar.

  “I sent him to you, Robin. He’s big for his age — but I guess you saw that for yourself. I just...”

  This was getting interesting. A girl’s mind is a wonder, like the inside of a refrigerator that hasn’t been opened in a long time. You’re likely to find anything in there.

  Even girls who like girls. Mirrors kissing.

  “I don’t like people keeping tabs on me, Dollar.” Before I heard the knife edge in her voice I would have put my money — or, at least, K. Farouk’s money — on Dollar in an argument. But Dollar looked ready to cry.

  “Where did that coat come from?” Robin demanded.

  “Johnny gave it to me.” She was whimpering.

  “Johnny?”

  “He was a special customer. Lots of money, just like Buddy.”

  “You’re a whore!” She stepped into close range and brought her arm up to smack Dollar. Smack again. Dollar gurgled and her nose was running.

  Star tried to cool Robin out, “Jealousy comes up to help you get through your paranoia, Robin. Don’t forget the story I told you about Hippolytus. His name means ‘horse-loosed’ if I remember my Greek, and your horses are loose right now. Sometimes you have to let Aphrodite have her way...”

  I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and Robin wasn’t listening.

  A change had come over her. She stood differently, somehow. She was fierce. “Get down on the floor where you belong, you tramp!”

  When Dollar didn’t move fast enough, Robin hit her again. The white bear turned into a rug at Robin’s feet.

  “I’m sorry!” Dollar wailed. But Robin kicked her in the side, then kicked her again. It probably didn’t hurt Dollar through the big coat she had on, but Dollar started blubbering and, shit, I felt a surprise. My zipper was getting tight on me. Cat fights are sexy, but this wasn’t a fight. Robin was kicking the living shit out of Dollar, who hollered but seemed to be enjoying it.

  “A little of this goes a long way with me, Robin,” Star told her. “You’d better take this shit home.”

  “I’ll teach this whore a lesson!” She sounded like some angry preacher yelling at the sinners. Wham! Bam! She let Dollar have some more kicks. I couldn’t tell whether it was part of a game they played or if it was for real. This was something new to me, and I wanted a piece of it. I cut in.

  “Robin,” I said. “Why don’t the three of us go some place and work this out?”

  “Who invited you? This is a private party, cowboy.”

  “I’m not a cowboy. And you know there’s something between us.”

  Her blue eyes were cold wild, but she listened to me.

  “Just like there was something between you and Dollar?”

  “That was just fucking.”

  “Why should we go anywhere with you?”

  “Because I’m telling you to.” It came out of me just like that, without planning it. Maybe it worked because it was so unexpected. Or because it had to happen.

  She nodded. “All right, Buddy Tate, you’re on.”

  Star smiled. Dollar got to her feet, still sniffling, pulling the white bear coat around her. She reached out for Robin’s hand. They hugged.

  “Do you know what you’re getting into, Buddy Tate?” Star asked me. “These are two Valkyries from Hell.”

  “Hell’s a place I know about,” I told him. “Hell is where I’m headed anyway.”

  X

  To Hell and Back

  We took a taxi from the Mission to the Hotel Napa in the Tenderloin. The streets were full of people looking for a party, but I was bringing mine with me. I sat between them so they’d pay attention to me instead of each other, but Robin stared out the window and Dollar kept petting her coat like it was still alive.

  I felt like a king with them one minute, and like a fly in their web the next. After seeing them together, even I could see they were twins inside. What one would say the other would echo, only an hour later, turned inside out but still recognisable.

  In the room at the Hotel Napa, Dollar dropped the white coat that had been the bone they picked between them. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath but white panties on her brown thighs, and a garter belt and stockings — she was a real tramp, thank God, no pretending with her. She had her priorities right, as far as I was concerned: sex and money. She walked across the shabby room like a tired hooker and took a cigarette from her bag, lighting it with her face bent to the flame so that smoke got in her eyes and they watered.

  I could see the imprint of Robin’s hand. Her blonde wig was crooked.

  “You’re a cheap slut, Miss Pearl,” Robin said to her. “You’d lick a snake. Better learn how to crawl all over again.”

  Pearl Dollar smiled defiantly, looking to me like I might save her from Robin. But I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t want to miss what Robin might do next. She was a magic show to me. The rest of the evening was whoopee, like sliding on ice.

  Robin sat down on a fancy broken chair and told Pearl Dollar to pull her big black boots off. Then she sat up like a lady and took off her leather jacket. I noticed she winced, I guess because the tattooing had made her back sore. I saw her beautiful boobs, sitting right up there at attention, and was glad I’d come to hell with them.

  She caught me looking, and didn’t seem to mind.

  “Buddy Tate, what do you do?”

  Her eyes were level, looking straight into mine — maybe a little mischievous — and I didn’t know what she was talking about. Do?

  What did I do?

  “I do what I’m doin’,” I told her, not knowing what else to say.

  “What are you doing by yourself in a sleazy hotel with two crazy women? Aren’t you scared? A little bit?”

  Scared? Not me. Her boots were off. Her skirt was high on her bare thighs, and I could see the dark furry outline of her pussy hiding up there, waiting for me to uncover it. She watched me look at her without saying anything. Her look back at me said she wasn’t scared of what I might be thinking. She’d seen it all, the look said, and she was older than me. I might have been a mass murderer, a fucking vampire, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Something had burned her and made her fearless. She knew she had the power.

  When I didn’t answer her because I couldn’t, she asked me again:r />
  “You know, boy, you could get in trouble playing with strange women.”

  “I guess that’s what I’m looking for.”

  “Dollar, would you bring out our toys so we can play with this boy?”

  Dollar went into a closet and brought out a shopping bag. She didn’t look tired anymore, but like she was expecting some fun.

  “That was expensive lipstick you used to make your mark. You deserve to be punished.”

  Her voice was stern, the way it was with Dollar, but it didn’t push any buttons with me.

  “So you fucked Dollar, right on this bed.”

  I surprised her by getting down on my knees in front of her like the horny hound I was and looking up her skirt for the furry animal I knew lived there.

  “Let me kiss it a little bit,” I said. “Then I’ll play any games you want.”

  She looked down at me and smiled, letting her thighs fall open so I could see it. Without touching her I moved my head between her legs and she was opening them for me, spreading herself for my tongue — when suddenly she slapped me open-handed, making my ears ring.

  But I had gotten close enough to smell the essence of life oozing at the centre of her being. It’s a smell that makes slaves, because when she hit me my first reaction — a flash of blind rage — was to beat the shit out of her face with K. Farouk’s .38. And then I didn’t care, I was defenseless. All because of a whiff of pussy.

  “Get your pants off and start praying,” she ordered, and I did it willingly. I was beginning to feel very warm and happy. I didn’t need prayers.

  When I was naked I started to stand up. My penis already was. Both of them watched it grow.

  “Stay down there and pray. Because I’m going to fuck you until you turn into a girl. I’m going to fuck you until your asshole screams, Buddy Tate.”

  No way. I stood up, my dick pointed at her like a spear. “You and what hundred Girl Scouts?”

  “Get back down there on the floor. Put your butt up in the air and wave it at me.”

  But I wouldn’t. Hell, I was no boy-butt. They should have seen that! But I’d forgotten about Miss Pearl Dollar. She had found the K. Farouk special in my jacket and was pressing its barrel against my neck.