Erotica – Piece of Strange

  This one is a bit I wrote quite some time ago and was inspired by a tweet from Remittance Girl about describing a hooker as a “piece of strange”, if I remember correctly…

Murky windows, time-stained linoleum, chipped counters and flaking paint; those features and more made the diner the type I would normally avoid.  Vera sat across from me, one of her handmade hats perched crooked atop her blue-black hair, staring into her cup of weak coffee.  The lone waitress wore old fashioned stockings, the seams zigzagging  up her calves, a run streaking over her ankle.  Odd faded bruises decorated her forearms and her personality grated both of us.

We were waiting.  He was late.  Or so we thought.  We didn’t know what he looked like, or even his name.  Only that we were to meet him here.  The dingy grey of the floor revealed the original mustard yellow color in irregular geometric shapes.  The large rectangle might have once been covered by a cigarette machine.  As my nerves writhed I wished with the pained craving of an addict for a smoke.

Vera tapped a dark, narrow cigarello against a lacquered case.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”  I glanced up, my thumbnail continuing to pick absently at the fracture in the table laminate.  

“Yes.”  The mass of snakes that made up my intestines twisted again and I forced my jaw to relax.  “I need to do this.  I need to know.”

My friend nodded and drew on the dark cylinder of tobacco, the end flaring into a orange orb that winked at me, her eyes drooping in enjoyment.  I swallowed and glanced at the ghost of the cigarette machine, wishing for the reassuring volume of pungent smoke in my lungs.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” The longer he kept us waiting the more I wanted to run, to race the echo of my footsteps until my sides ripped with pain.  

“He’ll be here.  He was quite interested in the proposition.”  Vera slipped the case back into her small clutch purse and leaned back, the blue smoke curling up in a lazy spiral to hang over her hat.  

The proposition.  Yes.  Her eyes caught mine and snagged, flaring with a dark hunger that slithered down my spine and twisted to nest between my thighs.  Before I could ponder it her phone bleeped a notice from beside her saucer.  Vera tilted it, frowned, and lifted her chin at me.  He was here.

I dropped a couple of bills on the table and followed Vera’s petite frame out into the night.  The air felt like anxiety incarnate; chill, damp, and penetrating.  “He’s going to meet us at the boarding house.”  My mouth went dry.  It was going to happen.  “Last chance, Kalli.  You know once this starts it’ll be hard to stop.”

“I know, Vera.  And yes, I’m certain.  I want what…what you can give me.”  Vera met my response with a low growl and suddenly brick bit into my back, snagging my hair, and my lips were bruised with the ferocity of her kiss.  My blood surged, fingers dug into her arms, and I slanted my mouth to hers, thighs parting at the nudging of her knee.

“My dears, shall we take this off the street?  I do believe you don’t quite want that much attention.”  

We tore apart, Vera gasping, my heart lurching in fear.  The distant streetlamps cast his features in sharp planes of shadow and light and the silence of surprise stretched until my pulse calmed.

“Certainly,” Vera responded, finally, touching her hat and twitching at her sleeves.  He motioned us before him, stepping into the space we maintained, the hot want throbbing between my thighs matching our footsteps.  

His hand found the shape of my spine and hers; an odd, gentlemanly gesture considering the things we, I, have asked him to do.  My heels and Vera’s clicked on the sidewalk, his footfalls silent between; the only sound that marked our passing.  The door he guided us to reminded me of the diner; used and neglected; the steps we climbed wrapped with carpet near worn near through; paint peeling to reveal shades of the building’s history.

Three stories up, at the end of the hall, he unlocked a door and waited.  Vera stopped and met my eyes; I knew her irises were brown, chocolate brown, but tonight they seemed black and cold.  She waited; I was the crux of this twisted encounter and the pin that if pulled would let it all fall apart.

I crossed the threshold before common sense could prevail and turned loose a chain reaction.  I heard him draw a deep breath and Vera let loose a moan that trembled at the end.  His palm hit me between my shoulders, propelling into the room.  The shag carpet, it might have been yellow once, caught at my heels and sent me stumbling into the narrow bed.  The bedsprings creaked in complaint.  

“Don’t move.”  

My breath caught in my throat as cool air was given access to the soft skin of my thighs, my skirt pulled up and bunched around my waist.  “Is this what you want?”  His voice raked over my nerved endings.  I wished they would stop making me decide over and over.

“Yes,” I breathed, gasping when a hand fisted in my hair, jerking my head up.  Vera stood on the opposite side of the bed, watching me, arms crossed, expression inscrutable.  One by one she freed the the pearl buttons of her prim blouse.  I watched her fingers, small and deft, peel the fine linen blouse from her shoulders and fold it.  

“You are certain?” she asked and I bared my teeth in a grimace.  My ears rang with the deep bass of my own heartbeats, my scalp sparked where a few hairs pulled tighter than the rest, caught in his fist.  At the casual swipe of a finger through my cleft my eyelids fluttered and lips parted.

“Jesus, Vera,” I snarled, hips bucking of their own volition.  “Yes, yes yes!”  The low rumble of a chuckle behind me made me flush hotly and she flashed a sharp smile at me.  

“Good.”  His blunt fingers slid through me again; Vera stepped from her slacks and climbed on the bed.  “Because we’re going to make you beg for mercy.”

A chill traced my spine, poured down it by the voice of reason trying desperately to be heard from behind the clamor of my cunt.  When his fingers disappeared to be replaced by something broader, smoother, hotter, I shoved that voice in a box and locked it.  I wanted tonight.

“Fuck,” he growled as my body opened for him.  Vera devoured my moan in response with a kiss so sharp and edged with cruelty I tasted the copper of my own blood.  His fingers bored into me, my flesh yielding beneath his grip as he pulled me onto his cock.  From within the confines of its entrapment I could hear my rational mind worrying.  Is he wearing a condom? You don’t know this man!  What the fuck are you doing??  Are you crazy?

I wanted to be fucked, used, taken and left without another thought then, yes.  Yes I was crazy.  I wanted, needed, and would have, just for tonight, sex for no other reason than because I wanted to be fucked and this man, and Vera, wanted to use me.

“Such a perfect slut,” my friend whispered against my lips.  She knew.  She knew just how badly I needed this after being a doormat for five years with Jeremy.  This was scripted, this was planned, this was mine.  He was nothing more than a dick here to fuck me the way she wanted him to fuck me.

My want turned molten when she spread herself before me, pulling my mouth to her cunt.  I knew, too, that this was something she wanted.  The scent of her enveloped me, sweet and musky and simply Vera.  As he pulled out, letting the clutch of my cunt trap him just shy of release, I answered the urging of her fingers.

He fucked me with deliberate thrusts; controlled, measured, as steady as a metronome.  My slick walls dragged at his shaft, wanting it harder and faster, needing to be driven towards that first orgasm.  But he didn’t.  “Match him,” she breathed at me and I used his rhythm to guide my tongue.  He fucked through me into her, their voices unfettered in a duet of lust tied by my body.  

I wanted it harder and tried to push back onto him.  His grip dug deeper, pain flaring under those blunt digits; there would be bruises later.  The first of many. . .or so I hoped.  The sad, used smell of the room began to seep in, wiggling past Vera’s delicious aroma, tainting it.  I squeezed my eyes against the pull of reality, hungry cunt tightening around his cock.  

“Now,” breathed Vera and I sobbed in relief.  He snarled and slammed into me so hard, lifting me onto my toes with the feral intensity.  I tried to match it, my lips and teeth catching at her clit until her thighs began to tremble.  She lurched away from me and I heard the strangest sound, a mewling, like some wounded animal, and realized the noise trickled from my own lips.  

“Fuck her harder, Roddrick,” she snapped and the sound of flesh on flesh filled the room.  I couldn’t think of anything but the pummeling of him into me, the slap of his hips against my ass, the imminent eruption of both of our release.  Vera crouched before me, fist in my hair pulling my head up, eyes delving without apology into my gaze.  “Let go, slut,” she rasped.  My eyes focused oddly on the curl of her lip in a sneer.  The knowledge that she was watching me fucked and used tipped me over the edge and I screamed, trapped between them, trapped by my own body’s convulsing need.  

Roddrick roared and slammed into me, reaching up to grab my shoulders as he seated into me, cock twitching and jumping in my cunt, a hot flood betraying the absence of any protection as he spilled into my wanton cunt.

My voice shattered and trickled to nothing and I shook, balanced on my toes, chest on the threadbare sheets of that derelict boarding room.  The springs finally quiet, the room silent yet filled with the rasp of ragged respiration.  Sweat cooled in the hollow of my spine, strands of hair clung to my face.  The filthy truth of what I was doing slicked my skin and I shuddered as he pulled out and a spill of come trickled down the inside of my thighs.

“Take your clothes off and lay on your back.”  With a shiver I met Vera’s cold gaze and she bared her teeth in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  “Or Roddrick can do it for you, your choice.”

I rose and her smile deepened into one truer and yet bonechilling.

“You are the most delicious piece of strange.” I swallowed at the feral hunger in her voice and stripped, dropping the garments to the floor.  Hours remained before night passed and it was time to return to reality.  Until then, I would be their slut, their whore, their little bit of strange in an even stranger world.



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