Stud Farm
"I've had to think about this long and hard." I stretched my legs out from the sofa onto the coffee table, and took the china cup into my hand.
"I know you have. I've seen you struggling with it."
I stared at the TV screen, watching the reality show. "It's funny how it doesn't really effect me anymore." I liked to call it, Stud Farm: a dozen testosterone-laden men locked in a small house together indefinitely. Imagine the possibilities. "But I recognize that this one will be different."
"I still remember your first time," he said, lying next to me. "It wasn't any easier for you then."
"No, but this goes well beyond the original design and intent. There's an entirely different dimension that has to be considered as well." I turned to look at him; cup rattling in my unsteady hand. "I don't know if I have the stomach for it."
A silent altercation erupted inside the screen on the wall across from me; two men fighting oner a copy of Maxim, tearing it apart between them.
'I say, let the punishment fit the crime."
The corner of my mouth crooked up into a hooked smile. "You just enjoy carnage. It's the predator in you."
On cue, he stretched his body, elongated onto the sofa, self-satisfied.
"I'm just so tired of being left alone," I continued. "How much heartache can one person take?"
"Drink your tea," he petted my hand. "I put your mother's recipe in it. It will make you feel better," he said with a wink.
"I thought this time would be different." I put the cup to my mouth, taking a sip.
"You always do."
"I figured, a woman for once. A woman would be loyal. She wouldn't leave."
"And you were right. She didn't."
There was more arguing on the screen, as others became involved. Scraps of paper flew up into the air.
"No, she didn't. It would be better if she had."
There was a bloody lip, and a man down. The tattered spine of the magazine lay discarded on the floor.
"Tell me again how you discovered her treachery?”
"You little shit. You know damn well. You found her first."
"Take some more tea," he smiled.
I sipped in succession, and the warmth spread up to my cheeks, and down through my hands. I had always wondered how my mother managed to stay so calm. Now I knew.
"The fucking neighbor's sons...both of them." I shook my head. "She called it 'tutoring'. "
"She did appear to have quite an appetite for knowledge."
We both laughed.
The house on the screen had calmed down, but the men stirred listless, trampling on slivers of torn centerfold.
"Let the punishment fit the crime," he hissed.
One of the men looked into the camera, staring, as though he might see out. I remembered that he had been the first.
He looked lonely, the way a shark looks lonely with it's deep, dark eyes. To know that I would soon be feeding him, was a mixed bag.
The doorbell rang, on time. The smell of familiar perfume drifting under the door and through the house, heralded her arrival.
"Let me get it," my companion offered.
I took a deep sip of my tea, as the large black cat jumped off the sofa, and ran towards the door.
The men on the screen paced, as though they knew. They stamped impatiently on bits of white smile, tit-clad heart, and cunt.
"Soon. Very soon," I promised.
The Devil May Care
The devil sat on my sofa, leaning back into the cushion, leg crossed. He sipped a cup of black coffee, and seemed in no rush to leave.
"Isn't it about time you go?" I impatiently looked at my watch.
"What's the rush?" He shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, it's hardly worth it to leave. It seems I barely get out the door, and you're already calling me back. Next time, I'm bringing a bag." He took a mouthful of dark brew, and savored the taste. "You really do offer the best hospitality."
"Yes, well, I do appreciate that you always come so quickly, but, I don't believe that I invited you this time. In fact, I think that you may have initiated this visit all on your own."
The devil laughed, and the richness of the tone rippled across the room. "No, no, you definitely called me. You ALWAYS call me."
"I don't recall..."
"You butt dialed me." He paused for effect. "I could hear what was going on, and, believe me," he rolled his eyes, "it was most definitely an invitation."
I started to protest.
"Uh uh." He pointed a finger straight at my nose, "You were screaming for God, but that wasn't who you wanted. You definitely don't want him showing up and seeing you like that, now do you?"
He had me there.
"You know," he mused, "Before your ass made its booty call, I must have been the last person you dialed on that phone. Hell, it's starting to look like maybe I'm the ONLY person you've been calling." He nodded emphatically, "I'm definitely bringing a bag next time....and maybe a toothbrush too."
I hung my head in shame. "I could have handled this one."
"My dear," he kicked off his black, snake skin boots and put his feet up on the sofa, "there is trouble you get into, that only the devil, himself, can get you out of."
"How do you figure?"
"It's not the temptation. No, you snap that up without any intervention from me." He sat his empty coffee cup on the side table, and laid down on the couch with a
throw pillow behind his neck.
"Please, don't get too comfortable."
He continued, "But after the deed is done and your head cools, you just don't have the stomach to clean up the mess. You need someone to blame it on...."
"The devil made me do it? " I cringed.
"Exactly." He smiled.
"I'm going to stop doing this. I'm going to straighten myself up. "
"Why, of course you are, my dear."
The bastard reached out and patted my hand reassuringly.
"Stop that!" I pulled away.
"Don't pretend you don't like it," he chided. "My sin is all over you."
Pulling my feet off the floor and making myself very small, I sat quietly, as if I thought I might be able to hide.
"There, there, " he consoled in that smooth, familiar devil voice of his, "it's not that bad. You and I are old friends. I don't judge you. In fact, I'm the one person who won't."
"Mmm hmm." I didn't like it, no, not one bit....but it was true. "You are the only person who always comes when I call."
"That's right," he agreed, "and I always will. When no one else cares..."
"Please, please...don't finish it!" I shook my head, like I had just tasted something very bad.
"Okay, I'll spare you," he smirked, then reached out again with his hand. "Here, give me your phone."
"Why?" I reached to fish it out of my rear pocket.
"Relax. I'm just going to put myself on speed dial. " He started fumbling with the buttons. "Beezlebubb...too obvious? How about Justin Bieber?"
"A bit played. But it will do."
"It's getting late," the devil noted, looking at the wall clock. "I'm thinking that I'm just going to stay over. I don't really want to leave you alone with your conscience tonight. You look overwhelmed enough as it is."
I reluctantly nodded, and stood to begin shutting the house down for the evening. "I know you're used to warmer accommodations. Much warmer accommodations..." That won me a glare. "Do you want me to get you a blanket?"
"Not necessary, " he dismissed, getting up off the couch. "I'll help you finish cleaning up down here, and then we're going upstairs."
"We?" I eyed him.
He strode across the floor, and as he snapped his fingers, the dishes were done, and the lights turned off. "Stop making a big deal, and come along, my dear...after all, this will hardly be your first time getting in bed with the devil."
I paused for a second to think, and then followed along sheepishly...he was right.
"Um, you aren't going to tell God about my calling his name tonight?"
"Not as long as you don't tell him about me answering."
"Deal."
Into the Pink
My mother cursed the day they had moved into our neighborhood. Our quiet little cul-de-sac became party central, with the thumping of bass rattling our windows late into the evenings, and glass bottles littered onto the lawn across the street.
I had looked longingly through the glass at the leader of the hellions; the neighbors' oldest son. He was a sight to behold, with his hair dark as sin, and shoulders rippling as he carried a case of beer in through their garage.
"He's not the type of boy for you," Mother clucked, finger wagging. "Stay away from that trouble."
Labor Day was always our party. For years, we had hosted the neighborhood barbecue; complete with pig roast, and Mother's famous red, white, and blue cake.
Afraid of being usurped, Mother sent out the flyers early, and followed up with phone calls. The RSVPs began coming in, and the burgeoning of the basement freezer suggested that all was right in the world.
Mother dressed for the event in her crispest yellow linen dress. She put her hair up in a twirl. She even broke out her best lipstick, "Summertime Pink," indicating that the day's event was a big deal. I recognized the shade right away, because it was her favorite, discontinued nearly two years before, and down to the last tube.
She was in her glory, welcoming guests as the doorbell began to ring, and kept ringing. I saw her face drop, before I saw the reason why.
Coming up the walkway, were our neighbors across the street. "Where did they get THAT?" Mother hissed in my ear, nodding towards the flyer in the father's hand.
There was the plastic, awkward welcome, and some obligatory small talk, before they moved into the house to mingle with the other guests. Mother's already rigid posture stiffened further, as she saw my eyes follow hellion son's denim-clad butt as it strutted away. "You stay away from that one!" she hissed in my ear. "He's not the boy for you."
I spent most of the day chatting and laughing with a few girls down the street who had graduated with me. Hellion moved in and out of sight, and I stared at him when I could; fascinated by the way his t-shirt clung to his abs in the heat, and how his short sleeves circled his biceps. I'm sure he noticed.
Perhaps it was too much summer sun. Perhaps it was the little bottles of tropical-flavored wine. But when I saw him climb the stairs, presumably to find a free bathroom, I followed.
I made sure that he saw me pass by in the hall, on the way to my room. I left my door open, as I changed from my sweaty tank.
"I knew this was your bedroom," he said from the doorway. "You leave your shades up a lot. You should be careful about that."
"Which room is yours?" I asked, motioning out the window, and offering him a reason to enter.
He leaned in next to me, pointing; making sure our bodies touched.
There wasn't a whole lot of talk, before his mouth was on mine, and his tongue was dancing down my throat. Hands lifted the bottom of my underwire bra up over my chest and cupped my tits, as my own palms sought out the flatness of his abs. "I think we should close the door," he said.
I moved quickly, latched my door shut, and stumbled back across the floor. We fumbled with each other's jeans, before I grew frustrated at his resistant fly, and took a step backwards, dropping to my knees.
I yanked the little metal tab, the sides of my mouth practically salivating at anticipation of my prize. And, then...
What is wrong?" he asked, at my dropped jaw. "What is it?"
I stared in horror at the perfect round, glossy ring circling his member. I stared in abject horror. "Summertime Pink!"