Thursday, February 24, 2011
He danced the shredded nylon between his fingers, distracted from his original task by how easily the synthetic frayed between his fingers. He hated synthetic fabrics, but couldn't seem to escape them. They were everywhere in his life. He liked his strippers in synthetics- it only seemed appropriate. Cotton was too chaste a fabric for a girl doing-business-as Chastity. Strippers should not wear real materials because they do not exist in real worlds. Their worlds are shrouded in darkness and fatigued disdain. The ladies of the evening fawn promises of pleasure on would-be-suitors tat are as pure as the costumes that lay in puddles at their feet. To be successful, they must be skilled at seducing, but rarely satisfying.
Women like Chastity were vampires, hungry for the contents of any wallet or purse fool enough to summon them. He wondered if Chastity had ever meant what she purred into the ears of men as she peeled off her clothes for their enjoyment. He'd watched her coil her body round the pole on the middle of the stage salaciously contorting her body into serpentine shapes. She enticed with her eye contact. She beckoned with every bounce of her synthetic body. Now, she laid before him, spread across a borrowed bed, trying her best to look expensive against the bargain bed-in-a-bag comforter. The pattern was created haphazardly. A careless quilt that had no plan. It came apart at a few of the seams, not from age but rather from careless stitching.
The black nylon frayed more between his fingers. It seemed to dissolve with every touch. Each tug made it look less like a piece of fabric and more like the balls of scrap and thread that would collect under his grandmother's sewing machine. The memory transported him from the foot of the bed where he sat watching a woman who should be chaste writhe against herself like a she-beast in heat.
He could smell the smoke from her clove cigarettes though it had been well over 15 years since he'd actually smelled them. He reached to the spot on his arm where she had burned him with one of those brown cigarettes. It had been an accident, but it had singed his toddler flesh nonetheless. His grandmother was trying to take the scraps from him to put them in her scrap bag with all the other pieces of torn clothing or remnant of other people's bathrobes she stitched together artfully to make a living.
Eventually, the scraps he held would become a part of another quilt once she'd managed to wash the stink of lust and her sex from the nylon. He'd have to do it. She wasn't able to handle the intricacies of the craft anymore and besides, his grandmother hated synthetics almost as much as she would hate a woman like Chastity. A woman not quite a woman, much closer to a girl. She trivialized everything and lived only in the moment. It hadn't taken many bills to pass between their hands for Chastity to be in front of him as she now was.
Something about the ease with which she offered herself to the highest bidder enthralled him even if only for a few moments on someone else's bed. He liked looked at her body and trying to discover where her seams were. Chastity was a trinket he'd picked up for himself and unwrapped too hurriedly. So much so that he'd ripped her teddy to shreds. The pattern he thought he saw on the comforter was really the lace and straps he'd torn from her. His fervor had not subsided, but he wanted to savor what he'd purchased.
It was unclear if her writhing was a result of discomfort, ecstacy, or her desire to always appear as an object of lust and adoration. A walking, breathing piece of erotica. He wanted to know her age, but feared that conversation would make the moment dour and unpleasant. He rose from the foot of the bed. She stared at him with a look he was certain had been seen by many men before him and would no doubt be seen by many men after him. She beckoned him with a very deliberate curl of her lips. Every bat of her eyelashes, every slow exhale and the inhale that swole her ribcage causing nubile breasts to point to the heavens the way they surely did when the surgeon shaped and sculpted them....every part of this was intended to ooze sex. To allow it to waft off of her and each curl of sensuality to pull him in closer and closer to her willing trap.
Chastity sat up, laid an artificially tanned hand on one of her doctor sculpted tits, pouted her enhanced lips, and simultaneously twirled strands of hair a color that certainly didn't match her birth certificate. He couldn't help but think how beautiful this pseudo woman was. It was as if her synthetic clothes, body, and world mashed together so perfectly. Could it last forever or would the sparkle reveal itself to be no more than glitter and dust? He didn't really want to stay forever. Chastity would try to keep him if she knew what he came from. The possibility of her salvation aroused him. Made him think he was a knight or a prince come to rescue the beautiful damsel from the beasts of the darkness that kept her trapped in a make believe world.
The possibility of living two fantasies simultaneously, both the erotic of men's magazines and gentlemen's clubs and the juvenile of fairytales and Disney movies made her pout endearing to him. He wanted to experience her with all five senses. With Chastisty, he was on vacation from his everyday existence and wanted to revel in every moment his money paid for. He heard the Beatles playing somewhere. It felt like she was conjuring the lyrics of Helter Skelter with every breath she took.
"Do you want me to love you?"
He wanted to taste her. He wanted to suck her juices from the shreds he was using to trace the arch of her foot. She waited. Acrylic nails pinching around her right perky nipple. He crawled towards her and took that nipple into his mouth, cupping the swollen breast like a gourd full of water in a desert oasis. Chastity dropped her head back as if she'd been struck and let loose a moan from a place more real than anything else in this make believe room.
She slid her hand from breast to his neck, spreading her palm wide and pulling her hand into a fist allowing each lock of his hair to loop around her fingers. She had a fistful of his hair and he had a mouthful of her breast. In one motion he trailed a saliva heavy tongue from the nipple that caught his eye to her neck. He kissed her neck fervently, even bit her as she ran her fingers through his hair and dragged her left hand's fingertips along his back.
They caressed, kissed, pulled, tugged, snatched and bit each other until rubbing against one another's hot bodies became too much. Chastity whisper begged for him to complete her satisfaction. He withheld. Still happily living in the fantasy and afraid that entering her would bring his delight to an end. Chastity ground her body closer to him until it seemed as though she had melted into him completely. He deliberately held back, but she would not accept defeat. She wound her body and placed hands and mouth on him over and over again.
He forgot whatever responsibilities he had outside of this pretend place. Anything outside of this room was what now felt make believe and all that was real was the longing he felt for this artificial woman with her saccharine sex. Every faux part of Chastity was what was real. He wanted to ingest her and consume her so that no one else could be this close to her. His head swirled with Jim Beam and visions of what they could be pulled her closer to him.
Life outside had become complicated and presented situations beyond his control. Here, in this rented boudoir he had complete control over an inauthentic woman...a simple woman...an uncomplicated woman....She pulled him closer and slid her body against him. He felt himself against her. Her warm and inviting body, her wetness felt like a magnet he could not escape. He never wanted to escape this perfect pretend. This woman whose synthetic lingerie was sticking to his knees as she stared at him in a rehearsed glare that burned holes into his logic. This pouty perky place of peace came at a price he could easily afford financially, but emotionally she was bankrupting him with her flesh.
Chastity was available to him with no demands no requirements. He pulled on one of those pouted lips with his mouth. He believed this to be real even if only for those moments. Chastity took hold of him and slid him inside the only thing on her that was real. He allowed himself to relax, let go of all restraint, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.