Sitting here by the pool, by myself, well, I brought two kids, one mine, one not, but they are in the pool, finally talking, ridiculous, this boy girl thing at age 9, but god bless the slide. A slide into water is truly a miracle, who needs the Virgin Mary’s silhouette on a tortilla, never mind the miracle of life. Anyway…So I’m sitting here wondering what the hell. What the hell about everything, politics, religion, sex, health, education, my life, oh my life…I find, once again, I have so much to do I do nothing, but sit on my couch or better yet sleep in my bed, all cozy snug, but when 9:30 feels like you’ve slept in until noon, you know you’ve complicated your life since the last time you wrote those words.
I’m even being so lazy that I don’t feel like writing. That picking up a pen and formulating words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, well I’d much rather just form a plot line in my head. Oh, I’m not sleeping when I’m cozy. I’m plotting, I’m formulating back story, I’m creating characters. Oh, to be sleeping. That would be so heavenly to lay me head on me pillow and drift into slumber without a thought or a dream…
Nope, not me, my imagination whirls, my strategizing twists, and I slip ever so effortlessly into my make believe mind, I often think about Stephen King and wonder. Which gets me thinking…some of the things I have thought up have made people stop and wonder about me.
I wrote a story without thinking anything and entered it in a shorts story contest, the story couldn’t have more than 1000 words in it. I had seen the call for entries in some magazine and pondered on what I could write in 1000 words or less. One night, I really don’t know why, I was thinking about serial killers and how some just stop killing and disappear and become an unsolved mystery. What happens to them? I had been thinking about this, and then all of a sudden this thought popped into my head, I got up out of bed, wrote the story, and then went back to bed. When I re-read it, I thought it perfect. It had a beginning, middle,and end. There was a character arch, and it was well written.
I figured it wasn’t an impossible win. Then a few friends read it and I could tell it freaked them out. Which at first surprised me, and as I started to explain the path I followed to arrive at such story, I could actually see the relief rush through them as they began to understand. It took me a couple of days, which I now find very funny, to finally hit me, and hit me it did. If my friends, who knew me best thought it creepy, then the judges probably thought it sociopathic. There was no way I was going to win the contest, and there probably was a flag to never open an envelope from Kim Shepard again.
the perfect one
rated nc17 due to strong sexual content.
I was looking for the next one. I liked them small, yet strong in body. Thin was too uncomfortable and fat, well I just wasn’t in to that. Finding the perfect one always took sometime.
I would feel her in my heart when I got the first glimpse. If I looked longer, would I see more to my pleasing? Bright, bold, red heads, but not the kind from a bottle, were my favorite.
The beach was the perfect place to find a small, yet strong in body, bright and bold red head; so I made sure I could afford to live by one. The day I met her was as perfect as she.
I had mistaken wives and mothers for her and was about to give up for the day, when my heart skipped. She was a fantastic red head, boldly stepping towards a bright new car. I met her at the hood.
“The ultimate driving machine?”
“Oh yeah. This beats those fucking hummers anytime. If you want to show off your money, at least try and not show off your complete stupidity.”
I must have looked at her oddly.
“I mean they get shity gas mileage, I’ve heard they’re very uncomfortable, and anyone looks like a fool in a yellow one. The guys driving around in the real ones, well I mind them a whole lot less.” She looked me in the eye and continued with, “I’m done here for the day. Do you want me to show you the ultimate driving machine?”
I didn’t answer. I just opened her door and shut it as she sat, walked over to the passenger side and did the same for myself.
–
Some time passes.
–
“That will only happen twice a month, and these are the rules. Just because you enter, doesn’t entitle you to finish. I still get a say. If entrance happens and is interrupted within the first fifteen minutes, it does not count as one of the two. If entry happens and lasts for over twenty minutes and an interruption occurs, then it does count as one of the two. Do you agree to these terms? If you do, you must also agree to no pouting past five minutes. Oh, and before you say yes or no, I can never promise that a night will be the night, because so many variables can happen. The only thing I can promise is the number two.” She smiled so that I’d know the joke wasn’t planned, just perfect.
I nodded my agreement. She had held my dick in her hand the whole time she verbalized our contract. She gave it a squeeze, “Great, but not tonight,” and took it away from her ass and placed it in a perfect position and pushed back against it. It took all my inner strength not to come.
She laid still in my stillness. It was like she was waiting for me to move. So I waited until I knew if I did move, this moment wouldn’t be over. In order to concentrate on something other then my dick, I rubbed her perfect back.
She was tense from her life, and when I found one of her spots and pushed on it, she made the most beautiful sound. It was the mixture of both pleasure and pain, and when it hit my ears, I could control myself no longer.
She still was motionless, and I realized she hadn’t made any ridiculous noises, and yet I knew she hadn’t fallen asleep. Again, it was like she was waiting for my next move, so she knew hers.
I continued putting as much pressure I thought she could handle on each of the spots I found. She would arch her back away from the pain, but push her ass against my hips and make that sound.
My dick had no trouble getting into position again. My mind was not focused on killing her, like it was with the others. My mind was focused on what I could do next to create that sound.
Most of the time she was still, letting me make all the movements. I moved her in the way I moved the bodies after I knew they were really dead. I moved her hips. I moved her head, first slowly and then in a flurry. I moved her legs and her arms into the positions I preferred. I fucked her like I was riding a horse, and I fucked her the way dogs do. She moved with me like she was part of me. She was so relaxed from the release of tension, it was like she was dead, but with her warmth and that sound she made, I felt more alive then ever before.
“What would you like?” I whispered in her ear and then gave it a hard bite.
“Whatever you want,” and the pause was clearly one that happened because she was still in thought. “I mean, I’ll tell you when I don’t like something, or if I need you to stop.” She laughed a laugh that I knew came from being completely satisfied. “As long as it won’t really kill me, you can do just about anything.”
That made me laugh my laugh of complete satisfaction. I followed it with a handful of hair, a slap on the ass, and a thrust as deep as possible.
She moaned, “Ok, maybe not so much.”
I went in less deep, “Is this better?”
She moaned again, but said nothing.
I grabbed her neck and I realized it wasn’t the killing them that got me off, it was the fucking them that did it. It hit me hard; the realization of the needless deaths that I had created. But I also felt a release.
This woman was warm and musical and alive, and she was the perfect one.
—————————————————–
Ok, after shocking myself with the realization that not everyone, and in fact most people, don’t think they way I do, I came up with this next piece. It’s the day after. Picture a beautiful bedroom, in a beautiful ocean front beach home. I wrote it in a script form, and winged the spacing, so forgive the non book style.
Man
I work at the beach.
Willow
Doing?
Man
Picking up trash.
Willow
Really?
Man
Yes really.
Willow
What a great job.
Man
Really?
Willow
Yes really.
Man
Why is that?
Willow
Why is that?
Willow doesn’t say the numbers, but counting them out.
Willow
You’re at the beach. It’s
morning. And there are
no idiots.
Man
Why no idiots?
Willow
They’re still sleeping.
Man
There must be early morning idiots.
Willow
But they’re not at the beach.
Man
Therefore an idiot.
Willow
Precisely. C, the beach is
beautiful in the morning.
Man
You’re right.
Willow
D, you get first dibs on the sand dollars.
Man
Right again.
Willow
And number three: you’re
doing the world a huge
favor.
Man
Do you pick up trash?
Willow
Sometimes.
Man
I see.
Willow
I am not a complete hypocrite.
Man
But a hypocrite non-the-less?
Willow
Oh, but by calling myself slightly
hypocritical I get off the hook.
Most people are slightly hypocritical
because that’s part of survival, but
it’s a bad word like manipulative, so
people try and hide it, therefore
becoming the greatest hpocrites of all.
Man
Wow.
Willow
Is it to early in the morning?
Man
No.
Willow
Then why the wow?
Man
Is this what people talk about in the morning?
Willow
Your one nighters are never over nighters.
Man
No.
Willow
I guess you’d call those eveningers.
Man
They’re usually gone by morning
You’re the first one I let sleep.
Willow
Wow.
Man
Why the wow?
Willow
I’ve never been the first of anything.
There’s a silence between them.
Man
What do you do?
Willow
Oh…
Man
Nothing…legitimate?
Willow
Well…
Man
You steal that ultimate driving machine?
Willow
No, but don’t you think as far as
cheesy car slogans go, that’s the
best one, because really it’s pretty
ultimate.
He gives her a look of you didn’t succeed at changing the subjected.
Willow
It was a gift.
Man
A gift.
He gives her a look of understanding and nods his head in approval.
Willow
Sadly, I am unemployed at the moment.
Man
Are you actively looking for work?
Willow
Oh yes, very actively.
Man
I am just a humble trash man.
Willow
Who lives in…
Man
Who works in this house.
Willow
You’re a housekeeper?
Man
In some circles.
Willow
How ever you want to play.
Man
I never play.
Willow
You’re telling me you’re always serious?
Man
When it comes to redheads I am.
Willow
I think you are seriously
playful, and nothing you
say will change my mind.
Man
You found me out.
Willow
Oh, I think there’s more under there.
She lifts the covers.
Man
Now who’s playing?
