Strawberry Luck
May. 21st, 2009 03:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonTerminus in the 90's: a simple case of right place, wrong time.
Germ was tagging the side of the four foot wall running along the rail tracks seperating it, with the most minimum of boundaries, from parallel Seaborn Avenue that dead ended into the train yards. He was doing the old swatstika in a circle with a slash through it routine. Painted big, bright and bold in day glow red so no conductor nor lineman would ever miss it. A safe protest, sure, but such is the folly and privilege of youth. Problem was he drew the swatstika first. Big time fuck-up. Some old rent-a-cop playing the rail bull role stumbled up on him out of the dark. Laid a calm, light hand on his left shoulder and gave a cool - "Alright son, I think that's enough". Then the old Bull took a look at the wall before them, adjusting his glasses just to be sure and made Germ for nazi right there and then. The fingers went from the weight of a reassuring pat to a clawed pinch. Germ had to think fast now. He knew getting busted for vandalism was one thing, but it would be a completely different story doing lock-up with a white power rep attached to his sorry ass. Remembers this one time he shared a cell with some Aryan asshole with the stars and bars centered on an iron cross inked across the throat. Within minutes he got stomped down with a collective fury. Every cop in the fucking place gathered outside the bars for a quick laugh. He remembers this real well, since it was him who cast the first stone, or in his case, first heel to his balls.
"It's not what you think...", Germ said raising his arms up to form a human trident.
"Yeah, well you can explain it to the police when they get here." The old bull sneered, patting his jacket pockets down for his walkie-talkie.
"Pfff... I'm realll sorry about this, man" Germ sighed.
"Funny how everyone's 'sorry' when they get caught..."
"Not for that... this" Germ falls forward but then stops midway to pivot out of the sleeve, freeing his left arm in a blur. Having made his decision before thinking about it, he tosses the can out of his right hand and catches it with his left before sliding his other arm free. The old bull is left dumbfounded holding the empty leather jacket. hand painted Exploited mohican skull with the words "SEX & VIOLENCE" stenciled across the back and then up at Germ. Before the old Bull can say another word he is blasted in the face with a burst of spray paint. Germ's counting on the glasses to absorb most of the damage. Still he feels bad when the rent a cop starts shrieking, stumbling backwards clutching his face.
Not for long though, just a moment to shake his head in a momentary lapse of regret.
Germ snaps out of the guilt funk to swoop down and grab his jacket off the gravel. He dons the jacket with ease, having been long versed in the gentlemanly art of dressing while fleeing. He bolts for the wall, ready to hop it with the quickness. When he reaches it however he skids to a stop coming face to face with the swatstika he painted. He looks around. The old bull was staggering and scream-cursing him out: "Y'vicious lil' prick... I'll find ya, I'll fuckin' find ya, y'hear?". Then a pair of flashlight orbs flare up and begin floating down the distant end of the tracks towards him.
Doesn't matter.
With a rattle of the can he finishes the circle and the slash. Then and only then, with the blinded bull now rushing towards the sound of the aerosol hiss and two husky silhouettes emerging now from behind the flashlights at a dead run, does he take the wall with a pull up, a grunt and a flip of the hips over.
*****
Laying low isn't exactly an easy thing to do when you've got a leopard spotted dyed buzz cut and are the only guy walking around in the hood at four something in the morning. He's already had to go on a backyard saffari, navigating through the sleeping lawns, around the stagnant pools and pushing his way through jungles of bushes. Motion detectors kept a spotlight on his process after awhile. Windows lit up at the sound of hysterical dogs. He hid under a front porch as a cruiser crawled by with some shaved pitbull of a cop leaned out the window on look out. He waited for them to take the corner before making a break across the street, jogging crouched down down the driveway before slipping around and quickly running up the stairs to an opposite porch.
He begins knocking lightly but persistently.
Germ needed a plan, but first he needed a place to get his shit together. His was a good forty minute walk that cut through some major intersections, where no doubt they'll be patroling, so scratch that. He remembered Tom and Winter lived around the area. He also remembered owing Tom a lot of money he didn't have... and wouldn't have for the near future. He debated a payphone to call for a ride, but nixed it immediately at the prospect of getting caught standing around with his dick in his hand hoping someone will answer before the cops cruise by.
(No answer, keeps knocking.)
That left his only other option. Huxby. As in "Crazy Huxby". As in "Bad Drama Huxby". As in "Chemical Imbalance Huxby". As in "One Beer and a Bar Fight Huxby". Known for killing a show by kicking the shit out of the lead singer to the opening band and then chasing down the tour bus as the survivors tried to escape the Metro alive. Known for being the only guy to go toe to toe with Jack Boots outside the Clairmont Lounge while strippers bet singles on the winner. Known for clearing out a packed party at one in the morning when he began reciting the poetry of Henry Rollins in German around the keg.
Mainly known as the last guy whose house you wanna drop by in the middle of the night.
(Still no answer, knocks louder.)
Germ spotted a set of headlights coming back from the direction the cruiser vanished. This followed by a growing searchlight that lit up the bush of dead roses down the block. He drops down on his knees praying the banister to the porch and rusted lawn furniture scattered around it will provide cover.
That's when the front door opened after a series of clicks and a slide of deadbolt.
*****
Whatever Germ was expecting it wasn't her.
Pigtails and Betty Page bangs. A yellow and candy pink painted blink of narrowed eyes. A fuzzy blue bath robe clutched in a fishnet fist that ends at mid shin to reveal black high heeled boots. From just underneath the knot of the belt the tip of a flesh colored plastic dildo protruded out.
The woman looked over at the slowly turning patrol car before discovering a crouched Germ before her.
"Uh, hey there..." he smiled up at her nervously, "Huxby around?"
"Yeahhhh, he's a little busy right now, actually..."
"No doubt. But it's a real emergency. Please y'gotta let me in..."
The patrol car seemed to inch down the block closer, pausing at each home to wash it over with the fierce white luminescence of the mounted light.
"I assume they're looking for you, then?" and she smiles the way cats smiles when there's feathers on their chin.
"Look, please, lady... I'm beggin' ya here."
"Then beg!"
"What?"
"Beg! Lick my boots..." she steps a single foot forward before his face.
The car rolls up another lawn closer to the porch.
"Lick... or so help me I'll scream right here and now!"
Germ doesn't waste time. Germ tongues polished vinyl with the enthusiasm of a first goodnight kiss.
"Good" she grins approvingly, "Now get your ass in here before they see you."
Germ obliges. Scuttling into the darkened frame behind her, scurrying around her legs and rolling to the side of the door once in. Just then the searchlight hits the woman. She puts shades her stare with a thrown arm.
"Everything all right officers?" she yells to the patrol car, discretly tucking her smooth plastic love rocket back into the folds of her robe.
"Everything's fine ma'am." A disembodied voice calls out from behind the glare, "Just go back inside."
And the glare shifts to the next house and she obliges the officer his request.
Closing the door behind her, she turns and shrugs out of the robe. His eyes haven't adjusted to the slatted light filtering through the cheap Venitian blinds. All he can make out is the broadest outline of her shadow.
"So...?" Germ mutters, remaining flattened against the wall.
"So..." she responds stepping closer to him.
*****
"So uh, where's Huxby..."
"Oh he's around somewhere. Sleeping the damage off probably. I might've been a little rough with him." She gets uncomfortably close. Breath of burnt sugar and rum. The love rocket brushes against the outside of his thigh.
Germ slides away still flattened against the wall: "Ohhh-kay, so, uh... so you guys are like, um..."
"We're not quite like anything, really." She steps back snorting with amusement at his obvious discomfort her presence evokes. "I do whatever I like... and when he's lucky I do whatever I like with him."
"Hey, that's great!" Germ peels himself off the wall and mans the nearest window. The patrol car is three houses down with another dozen to go on each side. "So, look, I just need a hour or two until sun up. Maybe borrow a hat or something with a hood and I'll be on my way. I'll just, um, I'll just wait here... while you guys um, rest up."
"'Rest up'", she glides through the dark to grab him by the heavily buttoned lapels of his jacket. With an effortless pull of his whole one hundred and sixty pound frame, she spins him from the window's edge and flattens him against the wall again. Before Germ can register the location switch, she's pounced her torso up against his. She hisses tenderly in his ears - "Why, I've barely gotten started."
She kisses him, thrusting her tongue down his shocked gasp and even though he tells himself to stop, he synchs up with her after a moment. Her hands grab him by the wrists and plant them over the firmness of her breasts. His palm hits a metal piercing and on instinct he begins to tease it with a rub of thumb and forefinger. The love rocket fences against his own waking tumescence. She breaks off the kiss and vampire lunges for the neck. Teeth sink deep, a fraction away from drawing blood. Reaching behind her waist, he tries to slyly unbuckle the strap-on.
She knocks his hand away. Yanks him by the lapels again and this time, with the grace of a black belt, flips him down unto the floor behind him. He hits the ground with a muffled explosion against the carpet. Before he can suck a much needed breath back into his lungs, she lands in a straddle across his hips, having recently defrocked herself of her coy sex missile. She begins unraveling the spiked belt from his waist and working open the zipper with blind fingers flying on experiences radar.
Germ doesn't know much, but he knows when things are just too wide and too weird for him to understand. He surrenders to this moment and accepts whatever cost it may bring. There's just one thing though...
"Hey, uh, lady, um... what's your name, again?"
"Does it matter?"
"No, not really I guess... but if you don't mind... lights on?"
Her fingers are spider marching into the flap of his boxers when they pause mid stride.
"'On'... are you sure?"
"I like to see where this is going..."
"Heh... if that's what you want."
She climbs off, stands over him and a click later the room bursts into life from an overhead lamp connected to the ceiling fan.
Germ takes the scenic route. Climbing the storm cloud colored bruises running up stout pale thighs, drifting through the razor bump shaved crotch before mounting the modest pouch of belly until he traces, with the eye alone, an orange Cadus tattooed down her strenum with green serpents coiling around her generous breasts.
She kneels back down, locks his thighs within her own and begins to unsheath him slow.
"You like what you see?" she asks.
"Definitely..."
"I wasn't talking to you" she smiles and points with her chin to her left.
Germ glances over.
There on a single beige love seat sits Huxby.
He was wearing a rubber elephant mask but there was no mistaking the gut and faded USMC anchor buried under a forest of scraggly chesthair.
Besides the mask he wore nothing. Only the hang of his stomach covered his modesty.
Germ went to bolt but found himself pushed back down by the woman.
"Relax... he's not going to do anything. Not while I'm here. Isn't that right, Honey?" she calls to the elephant headed Huxby.
Huxby garbled out something excitedly but the words were muffled against some form of gag under the mask. Veins bulged across the biceps and it was only then Germ realized that his host had been stitched with something resembling floss through the wrists and the shins into the surface of the couch.
"See, he doesn't mind!" she laughs and begins to soothe the fear out of his cock back into a rigid confidence. "But if you want... I'll let you out the back door right now. You can slip away and take your chances out there. So, it's up to you."
Germ takes in mystery woman fondling his manhood with a wicked lopsided grin. He takes in Huxby sitting there a few feet away, realizing with astonishing clarity, that the look in his eyes translate to anything but permission.
It's a flip of a coin where both sides are the same: If he stays or if he goes, he's a dead man.
It is then that he remembers a story an old-ex, who should have been anything but, once told him.
Some dude was walking across a field, right. He encounters a tiger. He runs for his life. The tiger gives chase. He hits a cliff. He shimmys down the precipice of it with a dangling vine rooted off the edge. The tiger arrives and sniffs at him from above. Scared shitless, he looks down a neck-breaker of a drop where a second tiger was pacing anxiously below for him to fall. All he had was that vine.
Just then, as luck would have it, two mice show up and begin to gnaw away at the root.
But that was when the dude notices this luscious strawberry gleaming near him. Grasping the root with one hand, he plucks the strawberry with the other.
It was the sweetest thing he ever tasted.
"I'll stay" Germ answers realizing he really has no other choice. He looks over at Huxby Ganesh on his throne and gives a helpless shrug.
Germ focuses back in on her: "Hey, uh lady..."
"Yes"
"I change my mind... you can leave the lights off."
"Too late!"
Germ was tagging the side of the four foot wall running along the rail tracks seperating it, with the most minimum of boundaries, from parallel Seaborn Avenue that dead ended into the train yards. He was doing the old swatstika in a circle with a slash through it routine. Painted big, bright and bold in day glow red so no conductor nor lineman would ever miss it. A safe protest, sure, but such is the folly and privilege of youth. Problem was he drew the swatstika first. Big time fuck-up. Some old rent-a-cop playing the rail bull role stumbled up on him out of the dark. Laid a calm, light hand on his left shoulder and gave a cool - "Alright son, I think that's enough". Then the old Bull took a look at the wall before them, adjusting his glasses just to be sure and made Germ for nazi right there and then. The fingers went from the weight of a reassuring pat to a clawed pinch. Germ had to think fast now. He knew getting busted for vandalism was one thing, but it would be a completely different story doing lock-up with a white power rep attached to his sorry ass. Remembers this one time he shared a cell with some Aryan asshole with the stars and bars centered on an iron cross inked across the throat. Within minutes he got stomped down with a collective fury. Every cop in the fucking place gathered outside the bars for a quick laugh. He remembers this real well, since it was him who cast the first stone, or in his case, first heel to his balls.
"It's not what you think...", Germ said raising his arms up to form a human trident.
"Yeah, well you can explain it to the police when they get here." The old bull sneered, patting his jacket pockets down for his walkie-talkie.
"Pfff... I'm realll sorry about this, man" Germ sighed.
"Funny how everyone's 'sorry' when they get caught..."
"Not for that... this" Germ falls forward but then stops midway to pivot out of the sleeve, freeing his left arm in a blur. Having made his decision before thinking about it, he tosses the can out of his right hand and catches it with his left before sliding his other arm free. The old bull is left dumbfounded holding the empty leather jacket. hand painted Exploited mohican skull with the words "SEX & VIOLENCE" stenciled across the back and then up at Germ. Before the old Bull can say another word he is blasted in the face with a burst of spray paint. Germ's counting on the glasses to absorb most of the damage. Still he feels bad when the rent a cop starts shrieking, stumbling backwards clutching his face.
Not for long though, just a moment to shake his head in a momentary lapse of regret.
Germ snaps out of the guilt funk to swoop down and grab his jacket off the gravel. He dons the jacket with ease, having been long versed in the gentlemanly art of dressing while fleeing. He bolts for the wall, ready to hop it with the quickness. When he reaches it however he skids to a stop coming face to face with the swatstika he painted. He looks around. The old bull was staggering and scream-cursing him out: "Y'vicious lil' prick... I'll find ya, I'll fuckin' find ya, y'hear?". Then a pair of flashlight orbs flare up and begin floating down the distant end of the tracks towards him.
Doesn't matter.
With a rattle of the can he finishes the circle and the slash. Then and only then, with the blinded bull now rushing towards the sound of the aerosol hiss and two husky silhouettes emerging now from behind the flashlights at a dead run, does he take the wall with a pull up, a grunt and a flip of the hips over.
Laying low isn't exactly an easy thing to do when you've got a leopard spotted dyed buzz cut and are the only guy walking around in the hood at four something in the morning. He's already had to go on a backyard saffari, navigating through the sleeping lawns, around the stagnant pools and pushing his way through jungles of bushes. Motion detectors kept a spotlight on his process after awhile. Windows lit up at the sound of hysterical dogs. He hid under a front porch as a cruiser crawled by with some shaved pitbull of a cop leaned out the window on look out. He waited for them to take the corner before making a break across the street, jogging crouched down down the driveway before slipping around and quickly running up the stairs to an opposite porch.
He begins knocking lightly but persistently.
Germ needed a plan, but first he needed a place to get his shit together. His was a good forty minute walk that cut through some major intersections, where no doubt they'll be patroling, so scratch that. He remembered Tom and Winter lived around the area. He also remembered owing Tom a lot of money he didn't have... and wouldn't have for the near future. He debated a payphone to call for a ride, but nixed it immediately at the prospect of getting caught standing around with his dick in his hand hoping someone will answer before the cops cruise by.
(No answer, keeps knocking.)
That left his only other option. Huxby. As in "Crazy Huxby". As in "Bad Drama Huxby". As in "Chemical Imbalance Huxby". As in "One Beer and a Bar Fight Huxby". Known for killing a show by kicking the shit out of the lead singer to the opening band and then chasing down the tour bus as the survivors tried to escape the Metro alive. Known for being the only guy to go toe to toe with Jack Boots outside the Clairmont Lounge while strippers bet singles on the winner. Known for clearing out a packed party at one in the morning when he began reciting the poetry of Henry Rollins in German around the keg.
Mainly known as the last guy whose house you wanna drop by in the middle of the night.
(Still no answer, knocks louder.)
Germ spotted a set of headlights coming back from the direction the cruiser vanished. This followed by a growing searchlight that lit up the bush of dead roses down the block. He drops down on his knees praying the banister to the porch and rusted lawn furniture scattered around it will provide cover.
That's when the front door opened after a series of clicks and a slide of deadbolt.
Whatever Germ was expecting it wasn't her.
Pigtails and Betty Page bangs. A yellow and candy pink painted blink of narrowed eyes. A fuzzy blue bath robe clutched in a fishnet fist that ends at mid shin to reveal black high heeled boots. From just underneath the knot of the belt the tip of a flesh colored plastic dildo protruded out.
The woman looked over at the slowly turning patrol car before discovering a crouched Germ before her.
"Uh, hey there..." he smiled up at her nervously, "Huxby around?"
"Yeahhhh, he's a little busy right now, actually..."
"No doubt. But it's a real emergency. Please y'gotta let me in..."
The patrol car seemed to inch down the block closer, pausing at each home to wash it over with the fierce white luminescence of the mounted light.
"I assume they're looking for you, then?" and she smiles the way cats smiles when there's feathers on their chin.
"Look, please, lady... I'm beggin' ya here."
"Then beg!"
"What?"
"Beg! Lick my boots..." she steps a single foot forward before his face.
The car rolls up another lawn closer to the porch.
"Lick... or so help me I'll scream right here and now!"
Germ doesn't waste time. Germ tongues polished vinyl with the enthusiasm of a first goodnight kiss.
"Good" she grins approvingly, "Now get your ass in here before they see you."
Germ obliges. Scuttling into the darkened frame behind her, scurrying around her legs and rolling to the side of the door once in. Just then the searchlight hits the woman. She puts shades her stare with a thrown arm.
"Everything all right officers?" she yells to the patrol car, discretly tucking her smooth plastic love rocket back into the folds of her robe.
"Everything's fine ma'am." A disembodied voice calls out from behind the glare, "Just go back inside."
And the glare shifts to the next house and she obliges the officer his request.
Closing the door behind her, she turns and shrugs out of the robe. His eyes haven't adjusted to the slatted light filtering through the cheap Venitian blinds. All he can make out is the broadest outline of her shadow.
"So...?" Germ mutters, remaining flattened against the wall.
"So..." she responds stepping closer to him.
"So uh, where's Huxby..."
"Oh he's around somewhere. Sleeping the damage off probably. I might've been a little rough with him." She gets uncomfortably close. Breath of burnt sugar and rum. The love rocket brushes against the outside of his thigh.
Germ slides away still flattened against the wall: "Ohhh-kay, so, uh... so you guys are like, um..."
"We're not quite like anything, really." She steps back snorting with amusement at his obvious discomfort her presence evokes. "I do whatever I like... and when he's lucky I do whatever I like with him."
"Hey, that's great!" Germ peels himself off the wall and mans the nearest window. The patrol car is three houses down with another dozen to go on each side. "So, look, I just need a hour or two until sun up. Maybe borrow a hat or something with a hood and I'll be on my way. I'll just, um, I'll just wait here... while you guys um, rest up."
"'Rest up'", she glides through the dark to grab him by the heavily buttoned lapels of his jacket. With an effortless pull of his whole one hundred and sixty pound frame, she spins him from the window's edge and flattens him against the wall again. Before Germ can register the location switch, she's pounced her torso up against his. She hisses tenderly in his ears - "Why, I've barely gotten started."
She kisses him, thrusting her tongue down his shocked gasp and even though he tells himself to stop, he synchs up with her after a moment. Her hands grab him by the wrists and plant them over the firmness of her breasts. His palm hits a metal piercing and on instinct he begins to tease it with a rub of thumb and forefinger. The love rocket fences against his own waking tumescence. She breaks off the kiss and vampire lunges for the neck. Teeth sink deep, a fraction away from drawing blood. Reaching behind her waist, he tries to slyly unbuckle the strap-on.
She knocks his hand away. Yanks him by the lapels again and this time, with the grace of a black belt, flips him down unto the floor behind him. He hits the ground with a muffled explosion against the carpet. Before he can suck a much needed breath back into his lungs, she lands in a straddle across his hips, having recently defrocked herself of her coy sex missile. She begins unraveling the spiked belt from his waist and working open the zipper with blind fingers flying on experiences radar.
Germ doesn't know much, but he knows when things are just too wide and too weird for him to understand. He surrenders to this moment and accepts whatever cost it may bring. There's just one thing though...
"Hey, uh, lady, um... what's your name, again?"
"Does it matter?"
"No, not really I guess... but if you don't mind... lights on?"
Her fingers are spider marching into the flap of his boxers when they pause mid stride.
"'On'... are you sure?"
"I like to see where this is going..."
"Heh... if that's what you want."
She climbs off, stands over him and a click later the room bursts into life from an overhead lamp connected to the ceiling fan.
Germ takes the scenic route. Climbing the storm cloud colored bruises running up stout pale thighs, drifting through the razor bump shaved crotch before mounting the modest pouch of belly until he traces, with the eye alone, an orange Cadus tattooed down her strenum with green serpents coiling around her generous breasts.
She kneels back down, locks his thighs within her own and begins to unsheath him slow.
"You like what you see?" she asks.
"Definitely..."
"I wasn't talking to you" she smiles and points with her chin to her left.
Germ glances over.
There on a single beige love seat sits Huxby.
He was wearing a rubber elephant mask but there was no mistaking the gut and faded USMC anchor buried under a forest of scraggly chesthair.
Besides the mask he wore nothing. Only the hang of his stomach covered his modesty.
Germ went to bolt but found himself pushed back down by the woman.
"Relax... he's not going to do anything. Not while I'm here. Isn't that right, Honey?" she calls to the elephant headed Huxby.
Huxby garbled out something excitedly but the words were muffled against some form of gag under the mask. Veins bulged across the biceps and it was only then Germ realized that his host had been stitched with something resembling floss through the wrists and the shins into the surface of the couch.
"See, he doesn't mind!" she laughs and begins to soothe the fear out of his cock back into a rigid confidence. "But if you want... I'll let you out the back door right now. You can slip away and take your chances out there. So, it's up to you."
Germ takes in mystery woman fondling his manhood with a wicked lopsided grin. He takes in Huxby sitting there a few feet away, realizing with astonishing clarity, that the look in his eyes translate to anything but permission.
It's a flip of a coin where both sides are the same: If he stays or if he goes, he's a dead man.
It is then that he remembers a story an old-ex, who should have been anything but, once told him.
Some dude was walking across a field, right. He encounters a tiger. He runs for his life. The tiger gives chase. He hits a cliff. He shimmys down the precipice of it with a dangling vine rooted off the edge. The tiger arrives and sniffs at him from above. Scared shitless, he looks down a neck-breaker of a drop where a second tiger was pacing anxiously below for him to fall. All he had was that vine.
Just then, as luck would have it, two mice show up and begin to gnaw away at the root.
But that was when the dude notices this luscious strawberry gleaming near him. Grasping the root with one hand, he plucks the strawberry with the other.
It was the sweetest thing he ever tasted.
"I'll stay" Germ answers realizing he really has no other choice. He looks over at Huxby Ganesh on his throne and gives a helpless shrug.
Germ focuses back in on her: "Hey, uh lady..."
"Yes"
"I change my mind... you can leave the lights off."
"Too late!"