by Peter Wild
Sue pressed on. She began to feel like Lucy in the wardrobe as she walked forward with no end in sight. The merchandise took a dark turn and whips and chains appeared around her. Red balls to be lodged into the mouth of the willing lover hung above piles of sharp, cruel heels. Sue kept her eyes ahead and moved swiftly past.
Finally, the back of the store came into view. A small counter in the corner with a single beaten-up cash register stood next to a large case filled with what she had come to buy: penises. Rows and rows of penises. Was this the normal progression? she wondered to herself as she slowed to examine the items in the case. A too-quick journey that began with the promise of full lips and silky undergarments, and ended here among the dildos and vibrators? She didn’t dwell on the thought; after all, this was not her place. She was here for a friend.
The vibrators were of no use to her. She had one herself, a small pink thing she’d been given at a bachelorette party a few years back. She’d succumbed to it once, with little effect. It made her uncomfortable to feel the cold plastic pressed up against her skin. The vibrations sucked the joy out of the sensations she sought. She hid the device deep in her closet. Heather had come upon it once when searching for a T-shirt. It made her giggle like a little girl. She danced around with it, waving it about like a magic wand, threatening to transform Sue’s clitoris into a pumpkin. Sue laughed along, though inside she cringed. Heather recognised the make of the device and dismissed it as archaic. She had her own small crop of helpers and she offered to take Sue on a sampling tour. Sue couldn’t decline quickly enough. It smacked of novelty.
Ignoring anything battery powered, Sue turned her attention to the dildos. They seemed so flimsy, so ineffective, that she couldn’t understand the allure. What did Heather see in them? The thought of an answer made Sue’s stomach roll.
Sue had met Heather at a publicity function. Sue was shooting for a trade paper while Heather was running the event: something to do with fashion designers dressing up their pets. Sue noticed Heather immediately; later they both noticed an inordinate number of photos with Heather’s slim form just at the edge of the frame. But Sue held back. Heather proved extremely difficult to figure out; one moment she’d be letting her fingers linger in the hand of a beautiful redhead and Sue’s spirits would soar. The next, she’d be whispering playfully into the ear of a well-built waiter and Sue’s world would crash. As a rule Sue avoided fence sitters; though beautiful, they did the digestion no favours. But something about this girl stuck with her and she kept her just at the edge of the frame.
Towards the end of the evening, Sue decided she’d taken enough photos to satisfy her employer and reached for her lens cap. It fell from her hand and came to rest against a beautiful open-toe shoe. A delicate hand reached down, lifted the cap and carried it up to its owner. Sue met Heather’s gaze as Heather dropped the cap into her hand. Heather’s smile told Sue that she’d noticed the attention, even as her eyes didn’t know how to feel about it. Against her better judgement, Sue invited Heather to dinner. Two dinners, a coffee and a breakfast later they were lovers.
Heather had never been with a woman. She’d spent her thirty years bouncing from man to man without thought; easily hopping on to a new boat just as the last one sank. Some treated her poorly, others well. None of it excited her any more, she confided to Sue, as they lay intertwined. But this was different. Sue brought something to Heather’s life none of those poor men could ever hope to provide: understanding. Sue understood her baby. She knew how things should feel. Heather had never been happier and neither had Sue. Something deep grew between them, something true. And now, eight months later, Sue stood in the back of a dingy little sex store staring at rubber penises. That was the price of love.
‘Can I help you?’
Sue practically jumped out of her skin, though outwardly she seemed only to blink and turn at the voice. A young boy, no older than eighteen, had come out from the back to stand behind the counter. He had thin, stringy hair and watery eyes that sank downwards beneath Sue’s stare. This was men, she thought.
‘Are these all the…aids you have?’ she asked.
‘We’ve got some others in the back,’ he replied, looking a little below her and to the right. ‘You wanna seem ’em?’
‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘I’m still browsing.’
She turned back to the case. Her heart beat so loud that she felt sure the boy could hear it, but he gave no sign. Her hands began to sweat as she felt the boy’s eyes, now freed from her strong gaze, land upon her back. As she always did in stressful times, she took charge.
‘Are all the dildos like these?’ Her voice rang with authority.
‘What do you mean?’ the boy asked, a small crack appearing at the end of the sentence.
‘This flimsy, I mean.’
‘No. We got glass ones over here. They’re real sturdy.’ He pointed to a trio of icicles standing in the corner of the case.
‘Don’t they get cold?’
‘I guess.’ The boy blushed. People usually purchased or they left. They didn’t ask questions. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘What’s this?’ She pointed to a long, rubbery snake with twin heads.
‘That’s for…well…both a’ ya.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded. ‘A double-sided dildo. I’ve heard of these. It doesn’t look satisfying.’
‘I guess not.’
‘How close to a real penis would you rate these things?’ she asked smoothly, though inside she reeled and tumbled with shame.
‘Well…’ The boy did not want to answer this question. ‘Not too close, I guess.’
‘I want realism,’ she declared.
‘Um, I guess that you could maybe look at a strap-on. They look pretty real.’
This threw Sue worse than the boy’s first appearance. She strove to keep the waters still.
‘Of course! I should have guessed. Bring me your most realistic strap-on.’ He slunk away to the back, happy to run. Sue stood rigid in place, waiting. She’d heard of strap-ons, of course. She’d never wished to be acquainted with one. But this seemed a step in the right direction. If she wished to push the thought of penises from Heather’s mind, then appropriating the image would be the way to go. She could be like any man, but no man could be like her.
The boy returned, a long box in hand. He smiled nervously as he opened it.
‘It’s called the Bull. It’s the only kind we got that looks real, cause it’s from a mould, it says. A real porn star di…um, penis. Iron Jeremy. Heard of him?’
Sue stared at him coldly until his weak smile dissolved.
‘No, I haven’t.’
The boy swallowed and returned to opening the box. The picture on the front seemed promising. Long and thick, with actual veins running up and down the shaft, it certainly appeared anatomical. It looked much firmer than the dildos in the case. Hopefully it wouldn’t remind Heather of a previous lover, at least not one in particular. Sue’s stomach began to ease as she warmed to the idea.
‘Sorry it’s takin’ so long, the harness is all tangled up,’ the boy said quickly, fumbling inside the package. ‘It’s real nice. Silicone based, and it warms up so you don’t have to worry about the cold. It’s the only strap-on I’d use…If I used one, you know? We only have a few left. It should do you fine…Here you go…’
His voice trailed off as he pulled it out and he let out a spastic giggle at what he saw. Sue’s stomach dropped and her voice took on its most authoritative tone yet.
‘You must have another.’
The boy nodded and quickly ran into the back, leaving the large thing lying stiff on the counter for Sue to contemplate. There had to be another. The boy returned.
‘That’s the only version of that type we have left, lady,’ he said, miserable under her hard stare. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘When does your next shipment arrive?’
‘Not till next month. You can try our sister store in Brooklyn if you want, though I think they’ll sa
y the same.’
There was no chance of repeating this experience, she thought silently. As she stared at the shaft lying on the counter, she considered her options. It was a penis, after all. One penis was as good as another, right? Once strapped on, it would be the picture of reality, almost. This was what Heather wanted. Sue had to show her that there was nothing that she couldn’t provide her with. Be it a vacation in the Hamptons, a loving, understanding ear, or a large, erect member, it all came from Sue. Anyway, wasn’t it the size that mattered? She was sure she’d heard that somewhere. The truth was, she couldn’t wait a month. She needed to do this now, before it was too late. Heather teetered and Sue had to push in the right direction.
‘I’ll take it.’
The boy swallowed and quickly stuffed the thing back into its box. Sue paid, grabbed her package and then walked with dignity and no small amount of speed past the whips and chains, the hopping penises and breast-shaped pasta, the cheap negligees and the leering faces of the women on the walls, out the door and away.
Heather had come home distracted again, and this time Sue joined her as they ate in silence. Afterwards Sue implored her to wait in the bedroom with eyes closed for a special surprise. Heather cried weariness, but Sue was insistent. This was a special gift, just for you, she said. Just for my baby. Heather waited in the bedroom now, eyes shut, uncertain what Sue had in store. Sue stood in the bathroom, naked, her pale white skin glowing under the harsh light. Heather could tan without trying but Sue only burned. She pulled out the penis and attached it to her pelvis. It wasn’t complicated and she’d already read the instructions ten times. After a moment, it was done. Her penis hung from her like a bloated cocoon about to let loose a butterfly. It felt heavy around her waist. She hoped it looked real, or real enough. A small flash of worry, the last she would entertain, raced through her. If only they’d had another colour. It was so…black. It seemed even blacker against her pale skin than she’d anticipated in the store. Glancing in the mirror, she took in the two-toned creature with the long black tube growing out of her crotch and a small voice whispered to her that she appeared thrown together, a sexual Frankenstein. But she pushed that voice away. Maybe that’s what all penises are: hanging flesh both ugly and ridiculous, practically unnatural. She’d never understand. She took it in her hand. It did feel strong. Big, black and strong. She mastered herself. This would be a good night.
‘Keep them closed, baby. Wait till you see what I have for you!’ she said through the door. Adjusting the brand-new penis at her waist, she took a deep breath and prepared to make her baby happy.
shadow of a doubt
rebecca godfrey
Kim’s voice is somehow both menacing and alluring in this song. I always loved how she sang the words so they were less like lyrics, and more like a mystery. The song could be a girl’s whispered confession or a taunting denial. It could be both. You’re never really sure, but you want to keep on listening.
This is a story I never told the police. I’m telling you because you’re not a cop. You probably read all my statements, right? I got dragged in by the cops yesterday, and I told them what I know because I do believe Teri should get in trouble for what she did to the deaf girl. I really do. A lot of kids at my school think we shouldn’t say anything because even if Teri killed that girl, she was probably really high and, at the end of the day, she’s one of us. The thing is I’ve known Teri my whole life. She used to be my best friend. That’s why I came to you because I heard you’re writing a book about the murder. I think that’s weird, to tell you the truth. Why would somebody from New York want to write a book about us? You must have so many murders in New York. And me and my friends, we’re just nobodies in this world. You must be bored hanging out in Walton. Anyway, I never told the cops this story.
Can you turn your tape recorder off? I don’t mean to be rude but machines make me nervous, and yours is so small; it looks like a black eye. You remind me so much of my sister except she has more tattoos. She has twenty-seven. She got her first one when she was twelve. Have you talked to Colby Straith? You have, right? Yeah, he told me he talked to the lady from New York. I hope you don’t trust that guy because the thing is he’s kind of a rapist. If anyone should be in jail, it’s Colby fucking Straith ’cause when my sister was twelve, her and all those roughneck girls, the whole C-Town crew, they would go to Colby for tattoos, but he would just, well, you know, he said it was fair trade. My sister hates her first tattoo now, but what can you do? She’s got that star for life. You really look like her, though. Your eyes move in the same way. I think that’s why I trust you. Some people think you’re a narc. They think you’re working for the cops. I’m serious. Your face looks so funny right now. You just looked away from me and right down at your fancy tape recorder. You turned it off, right? I really hope you’re not a cop because what I’m about to tell you is private and crazy. Slade said he doesn’t think you are a cop because when he was in your hotel room he snooped around while you were in the bathroom. He said you had a whole shitload of pills from a pharmacy in New York City. I guess you caught him, right? And you told him the pills were for headaches, but he looked them up on the Internet and he said they were for anxiety. I really like your ring.
A long time ago, two summers ago, all I wanted to do was die. I was very suicidal. The priest told me to think of the darkness like a black bird and let it fly out of my body. Can you believe that? For a while, I tried to feel better by remembering the day I was most happy and that was a day when I was twelve and my dad was still alive. We were in the canoe over by Candle Island and I reached down and touched this whale that was moving through the waves and that dark place in the water, the part where the whale rose up, was right under my palm and my dad kept quiet and let the oars lie still and our boat just floated for a long time while we watched the whale in those waves far away.
I should let you know that a lot of people are lying to you, telling you bullshit stories about Teri, not because they’re bad people, but I guess they want to be in a book. They think they might get famous or something. I’m not like that, though. I just think someone should know about what happened with me and Teri.
We were with Eliza. The three of us used to skip school and hang out by the train tracks over on Chatham Hill. This was when we were thirteen. Do you know Eliza? Some people call her Lizzy. She has thin eyebrows and her hair’s bleached pure blonde. I heard she took off and she’s missing and she’s gone into hiding ever since Teri got arrested. I doubt she gave a statement because when Matty Hargrove got arrested she said she wasn’t a rat and she asked the cops if she looked like she had a tail. She lies sometimes, Eliza. She says she’s a model but she’s never been in magazines. Anyway, we were by the train tracks because we used to go there to get away from everyone.
Teri said to Eliza: ‘Arielle wants to die, so today we’re going to help her.’
Teri has this way about her. You believe she knows best. I did what she said. She told me to go lie down on the tracks and I did. I walked over to the tracks and I laid myself down in the low place. As soon as I lay down, five crows flew out of a tree and passed above, right above me. The rust was cold on my ankles; I could feel the old rain; the saved rain; all the old, saved rain under my body. The train was still far away and I was not scared. I’m finally doing what I should be doing. I’m finally giving up caring. I was almost happy because soon I would see my father.
Waiting for my death might have been peaceful except Teri got so angry at Eliza. I’ve seen her when she’s vicious but never as she was that afternoon. Teri’s so small and that’s why some people don’t think she could have killed the deaf girl but I’ve known her my whole life and she can have this fury. She went crazy because Eliza was being dreamy and not watching me. Eliza sometimes is in her own world, as if the sky is a mirror or the dirt is a catwalk. She walks; one hand on her hips; she turns. Teri’s yelling, ‘This is going to be fun. Watch!’ And I guess that’s when Eliza saw me, waiting for my
suicide.
Eliza yells, ‘Get off the tracks!’ She’s like, ‘Ari! Get off the tracks!’ I think I heard the train. And Teri moves closer to me. She comes right up to me. She whispers. She touches my forehead. She says, ‘Just stay there. You want to kill yourself, don’t you? Just stay there. Stay where you are.’
Teri said she was really proud of me. I looked towards her to say goodbye and she had this smile on her face. She was kneeling in the long grass, smoking a cigarette, with this smile I did not like. It reminded me of the look on Colby’s face right after he gave my sister that tattoo. It’s like they’ve taken something, not like a thief, but like a winner who’s cheated. Oh, I can’t explain. I heard the train. The train was coming. I heard the rumble, the wheels in all the dirt and gravel. And I tried to be good, to be ready, to do what I wanted which when I was thirteen was only and always to die. I thought of my sister and how she played her radio at night; the sound I could sometimes hear; just sometimes her singing; her little voice in the bedroom; and after my dad died, she’d move the radio to the wall between us, and sing louder because she didn’t want me to hear her tears, I guess, or she wanted me not to be alone with the air and the silence.
There was so much rain underneath me on the tracks. I could feel the breath of the train and smell the coal. I heard the rumbled noise getting closer to me and I was wondering if there was a man in front of the train, a driver, who might see me because I know those coal trains have no captains or passengers. I heard Teri say, ‘Good girl. Stay still.’ And then I thought it was her hand but it was Eliza and she was just above me and beside me and she was pulling me and grabbing my shoulders and Teri just started pounding on Eliza’s back, just whacking her and Eliza’s white hair was like lightning. She was just being flung around and Teri is screaming. She’s yelling, ‘Eliza! Get off her. Leave her alone! She wants to die! Let her die!’
I was so dizzy when I stumbled over the rails. Eliza pulled me towards the grass and I could feel her tears and the ground trembled a little when the train passed us by. We just lay there crying and dizzied and shivering. Teri threw her cigarette into the grass and she spoke to me so coldly. She hated me more than she’s ever hated any girl in Walton. ‘Arielle,’ she said. ‘I thought you told me you wanted to die.’