It wasn’t Nicole that was missing. I had to get it back for her. Sunday, I went to Nicole’s loft, alone. The door was unlocked. I went in and called her name. I went up to the bedroom. No one there. I looked through her clothes. I came down, and Nicole was standing under the light from the ceiling, wearing The Dress.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I had to come,” I said.
“You broke into my place.”
“It was unlocked.”
“Leave,” she said. She smiled, and said, “Let your fantasies run away with you . . . and you wind up fucked. I’m tired of playing with people who can’t play the game for real.”
“The Dress,” I said, “doesn’t belong to you.”
“Oh?” She walked around like she was modeling the fabric. “This dress?” she said. “It doesn’t belong to me? Is this what you came back here for? Why? So poor little Ashley can parade her legs and ass around in it for you? So you can get off having other men look at her? You like it when they look at her, don’t you? But you don’t like it if they have her. Look, but don’t touch. You’re such a fucking hypocrite, you know that?”
“I’m not leaving without it,” I said.
“Fine, fine,” she said. She pulled The Dress up and off her, and she was naked. She held The Dress out. “Come on,” she said, “and take it.”
I went to her, cautious; she had something planned. She was smiling. Just as I reached out for it, she let it go. I bent down to pick it up. Nicole put a foot on my shoulder.
“Just for the hell of it,” she said. “Just for old times’ sake, since we’ll never see each other again, you want to fuck the shit out of me?”
In a more noble story, where I was a more noble man, I would have walked away. I would have laughed. I would have hit her. But, looking up at her in splendid nudity, my libido, once again, called the shots. I grabbed at her. I took her on the floor. I fucked her in a demented vehemence. I slapped her across the face. I pulled at her hair. I bit at her neck and back and face. I shoved myself up her ass. I came in her.
Spent, I lay on the floor. Nicole got up, catching her breath, her face streaked with red marks, smeared make-up, her breasts, neck, and back clawed from my bites and lacerations. “Goddamn you,” she said, “God-fucking-damn-you,” and she ran toward her bedroom. I glanced up, and standing above me were Serge and Tina. Had they been here all this time? Did they watch? Serge started to slowly clap his hands. Tina blew smoke my way from a small cigar.
“Bravo, my man,” Serge said, “but I think it is time you leave.”
“We’re next,” Tina said.
Ashley was still in bed when I came home. I’m sure there were telltale signs on my skin of that last union with Nicole. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to tell Ashley what happened and hoped she understand. My wife had a drink in her hand. She’d been crying more. The phone was off the hook. She wouldn’t look at me, only out the window.
I held out The Dress. “I got it back,” I said.
She wouldn’t look at me.
I crawled on the bed, holding The Dress to her. “Here,” I said, “here, take it, please. I got it back.”
She only touched it. I placed it next to her.
“Please put it on,” I said.
She took a drink.
I started to cry myself. I said, “Ashley, please, put The Dress on; I want to see you in it.”
I must have sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic. I felt like shit. I was shit. I wasn’t anything. I just needed her to – goddammit, I needed my wife to forgive me.
She touched The Dress. Her fingers examined the rigid fabric. The Dress, I realized then, smelled of Nicole, and sex. She stared at me for a long moment. There was nothing in her eyes. I knew there were scratches on my face.
“Please,” I said.
“Get on your fucking knees and beg,” she said.
HOLLOW HILLS
Michael Hemmingson
“THIS IS THE last night of my life,” Cynthia says, “I mean, this is the last night of my life as a single woman, a single girl, this is the last night of that life and tomorrow I’ll begin a new life so I want to do something I’ve never done before – well, I guess I am: I am doing something I’ve never done before. I’m here, aren’t I? This is something I’ve never done before.”
We’re all crammed into Ralphie’s 1971 Mustang. She’s in back, wedged between Ajax, Mookie, and Fortanbras. They’re passing around a bottle of Jim Beam. I’m up front, shotgun to Ralphie, who’s driving.
“I hardly ever drink,” Cynthia goes on, “but tonight I think I’ll drink.”
“Drink all you want,” Mookie says.
Ralphie speeds up the speed, the Mustang’s engine growls.
“I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before,” Cynthia is saying, “somewhere strange, somewhere where you shouldn’t go, somewhere with pizzazz and danger.” She plays with her hair, which is pulled back into a bouncy-bouncy ponytail. “You know?” she says. I turn, take a quick glance at her, up and down. She wears a long, simple skirt; blue blouse; light green unbuttoned sweater. Her gold-rimmed glasses keep falling to the end of her nose. She doesn’t wear any make-up.
“How about Hollow Hills?” Ajax says. “You ever been to Hollow Hills?” he asks Cynthia.
“No,” she says. She was valedictorian in high school – “Miz Goody-Two-Shoes” in the locker-room.
“Hollow Hills,” Ajax says to Ralphie.
“Yeah,” says Mookie.
Fortanbras nods, taking the bottle of Jim Beam from her.
Ralphie makes a turn.
I look at him.
He shrugs.
“Time to open some beer,” Mookie says.
“Beer indeed,” Fortanbras says.
“Shriek,” Mookie says, “break out the brewskis!”
“I could go for a beer,” Cynthia says.
I have the case of beer in my lap. I open it, pass beers out to all, except Ralphie. He doesn’t drink and drive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink. I have a beer. I look in back. The guys seem to be squeezing Cynthia in more and more. Her glasses fall into her lap. “Oops,” she says, picking them up, putting them on, drinking beer. “I’m getting buzzed,” she announces.
“Only way to be,” Ajax says.
“I feel good,” she says.
“Only way to be,” Ajax says.
There’s an odd silence, the engine roars.
“Music,” Cynthia says, “is there any music?”
“Thing with Ralphie,” Mookie says, “is he don’t like to hear tunes when he drives.”
“Only the engine,” Fortanbras says.
“Yeah,” Ajax says.
Ralphie speeds up the speed.
“Where’s these Hollow Hills?” she asks.
“We’re getting there,” Mookie says.
“Boy are we,” Fortanbras says
“You two up there sure are quiet,” Cynthia says to me and Ralphie.
“That’s why they’re up there,” Ajax says.
“You should talk more,” she says, directing this to Ralphie, “you should go blah-blah-blah.”
I say, “Blah-blah-blah.”
“You see?” she says. “You see how different things are when you go blah-blah-blah?”
Ralphie makes another quick turn.
“I spilled my beer,” Fortanbras says.
“Here.” I give him another.
I look back and see that Ajax is practically falling into Cynthia’s lap. She’s red in the face.
“It sure is getting cramped,” she says.
“That’s what happens when you try to squeeze four people into the back,” Mookie says.
“Someone’s touching me,” she says.
“That’s me,” Ajax says, “I have my hand caught under your ass.”
“Stop that,” she says.
“Are we there yet?” Mookie says.
“Not yet,” Fortanbras says.
&nbs
p; “Shriek,” Cynthia says, “can I have another beer?”
I hand her one.
“You drank that other fast,” Ajax says.
“I hardly ever get drunk,” she says. “If I ever drink, it’s one glass of wine, one can of beer, that’s it. Tonight, I want to get smashed. I want to do something I’ve never done before. This is my last night, the last night I have to be a single person, and I want – I keep saying the same thing over and over, don’t I?”
“Hey,” Mookie says, “you can blah-blah-blah all you want.”
“Yeah,” Ajax says, “talk.”
“Your hand is under my skirt,” she says.
“It can’t help itself.”
“You’re bad,” she says.
“Um-hm,” Ajax says.
“Stop that,” she says again.
I see Ajax getting his hand higher in there and she doesn’t protest.
Ralphie makes another quick turn and the four fall into each other more and more. Cynthia’s head pokes up from a mass of bodies, arms, legs. “Help,” she says, “help.”
“Soon we’ll be there,” Mookie says, “then we can all get out.”
“Maybe I should have sat up front,” Cynthia says.
“Where would you sit?” Ajax asks.
“I could sit in Ralphie’s lap,” she says.
“He’s driving.”
“I could sit with Shriek,” she says. “On his lap.”
“That would keep it in the family,” Fortanbras says.
“They’re not family yet,” Mookie says.
“Tomorrow,” Cynthia says, “hey!”
“Hey hey,” Ajax says.
“Those are my panties,” Cynthia says.
“Cotton,” Ajax says, “I love cotton.”
“I’m spilling my beer,” she says.
“We all are,” Mookie says.
Ralphie makes another sharp turn and the four in back make sounds like they’re on a roller coaster. Wherever Cynthia is, back there, I can’t see her. She’s under the guys.
“Help,” she says, muffled, “help.”
“Oh,” Fortanbras says, “everything is okay.”
“Does he always drive like this?” she asks.
“Always,” Ajax says.
“Get your hand out of my panties,” she says, and her head emerges.
“It likes it there,” Ajax says.
“My beer is all over the floor,” she says.
“That’s okay,” Fortanbras says.
“You want another?” Mookie asks.
“Yes.”
I give her one. Her arm struggles for it. Ajax’s face is in her pony tail, Fortanbras’ in her breasts.
“She’s wet,” Ajax says.
“She’s hanging nip,” Fortanbras says.
“Stop that,” she says, “you’re embarrassing me.”
“That’s why you have to drink a lot more,” Mookie says, “so you won’t be embarrassed.”
Cynthia fights to get the can to her mouth and drink.
Ralphie takes another sharp turn.
“Where is he going?” Cynthia says.
“Hollow Hills,” Fortanbras says.
“Is it this far?” she says.
“Not usually.”
“Ouch,” she says.
“Am I hurting you?” Ajax says.
“You really should stop that,” she says.
“Just curious,” he says, “we used to all call you Miz Goody-Two-Shoes, y’know.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You always had your nose in a book,” Mookie says.
“So I like to read,” she says, “what’s wrong with that?”
“You never went out with anyone,” Ajax says.
“I was shy,” she says, “and your fingers are doing things they shouldn’t.”
“What’s that you’re doing, Ajax?” Fortanbras says.
“Trying to feel if what we expect is true,” Ajax says. “I don’t know, they’re getting in there pretty easy.”
“What is true?” Cynthia breathes.
“If you’re a virgin.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You never went out with anyone,” Mookie says.
“Why would that make me a virgin?”
“Unless Shriek’s brother got to you in secret,” Fortanbras says. “Shriek, did your brother pop her?”
I shrug.
“You guys are too much,” Cynthia giggles.
“She’s very wet,” Ajax says, “and she’s no virgin.”
“I’m done with this beer.” She tosses the can to the floor.
Fortanbras is unbuttoning her blouse.
“When did you lose your cherry?” Ajax asks. “And who did it?”
“Now,” she says, “that’s none of your bees wax.”
“I’m going to fingerbang you,” Ajax says, “I’m going to fingerbang you until you come.”
“Damn,” Ralphie mutters, and makes a sharp turn, speeds up the speed, roars the engine.
The four in back all make more roller coaster sounds.
Someone’s beer splashes onto the back of my head.
I say, “Hey, watch that.”
“Sorry,” says one of them.
I turn, see that Fortanbras is sucking on one of Cynthia’s nipples, a pink nipple. Her sweater is pushed up, bra undone. Mookie has his pants down, is holding his penis.
“Take it,” he says to Cynthia.
“Where’s my glasses?” she says. “I lost my glasses.”
“Take it,” Mookie says.
“What? I can’t see anything.”
He grabs her hand, places it there.
“Oh,” she says.
Ajax is doing something fierce with his hand under her skirt. “C’mon, Mis Goody-Two-Shoes,” he says, “Miz Bookworm,” he says, “come on my fist.”
“You guys,” she giggles, “you guys are just as crazy as when we were in high school.”
“Jerk me off,” Mookie says.
“Stop whining,” she says, bending down and putting his penis in her mouth.
“Oh,” Mookie says, “oh.”
I look at Ralphie. He’s concentrating on his driving.
The road is dark.
“Maybe here,” I say.
He shakes his head.
“Or here,” I say.
He shrugs, and turns, but not as sharply as before.
I look back. Mookie is making a strange face, his eyes closed. Cynthia’s head bobs. “I’m coming,” Mookie says, gasps, relaxes, and Cynthia’s head stops.
She sits up, mouth wet. “Can I have another beer?”
“And open it for the lady this time,” Fortanbras says, taking his mouth from her bosom.
I open a beer, give it to her.
“Thanks,” she says, and drinks.
“I give up,” Ajax says, taking his hand away.
“This beer is good,” she sighs.
“We need to have some law and order back here,” Ajax says.
Mookie moves to a corner so the others can straighten out.
“On my lap,” Ajax says, “sit on my lap.”
“Here,” Ralphie mutters, and makes a sharp turn.
“Oh oh oh!” they all say in the back.
Cynthia is on Ajax’s lap. His pants are down. She’s facing me, with a smile, but I don’t think she can see me. Her skirt is bunched up. Ajax enters her with his penis.
“Are we there yet?” she asks.
“Not yet,” Ajax says.
“I’m going to come,” she says, and screams.
“Finally,” Ajax says, and comes.
She sits down between Ajax and Fortanbras.
“Beer?” she says.
I give her one.
“Thanks,” she says, and drinks.
Fortanbras is stroking his penis.
She squints. “What are you doing?”
“Come on, Miz Goody-Two-Shoes. Suck this peckerwoo
d.”
She bends down and takes him in her mouth.
I look at Ralphie.
He shrugs.
“Maybe here,” I say.
He shakes his head.
“Maybe here?”
He shakes his head.
The road is dark.
I open a beer for myself.
I look in back. Fortanbras is shaking, eyes closed. Cynthia’s head bobs. “Ahhhh,” he says, grabbing at her pony tail. Her head stops. She sits up, spitting out thick white fluid. It dangles off her chin, swaying back and forth on a thin strand. “I still have beer,” she says, drinking.
There’s a long silence.
“This isn’t the way,” Ajax says.
Ralphie shrugs.
“My glasses!” Cynthia bends, picks up the gold-rims, puts them on. She smiles. “I can see now.”
Ralphie takes a sharp turn.
Cynthia’s legs are in the air.
The guys all start grabbing her.
“Stop that,” she says, “you guys, you guys are something else!”
She sits up, adjusting her glasses. She pulls her skirt down, wipes her mouth on the sleeve of her sweater. “Is there any more beer?” she says.
“Should be plenty,” Fortanbras says.
“Yes,” I say.
Her hand is out.
I give her one.
“Oops,” she says, seeing that her blouse is undone. She buttons it. She takes the beer from me. She drinks.
“She sure does drink,” Mookie says, “for a bookworm.”
“I’m going to have to pee soon,” she says.
“You have to go?” Ajax says.
“Not yet,” she says, “but I know I will soon.”
“We’ll all have to,” Fortanbras says.
“ ‘Cept Ralphie,” Mookie says.
“Or Shriek,” Ajax says. “Hey, Shriek, why aren’t you drinking any?”
I hold up my beer. “I am.”
“You should be back here,” Mookie says.
“Maybe not,” Ajax says, “it’s a family thing.”
“Not yet,” Cynthia reminds him.
“Yeah,” Ajax says, “tomorrow is the big day.”
“Better hope Shriek doesn’t tell his brother about all this,” Fortanbras says.
“He won’t,” she says, looking at me, serious. “Will you?”
I don’t say anything.
“And what could his brother say anyway?” She drinks. “I don’t belong to him, yet. I have this final night. My one wild night. You don’t think I don’t know what happens at those bachelor parties? The strippers, the whatnot? The Going Out and Sowing Wild Oats? You don’t think I know? I know. It’s the way it is. Why can’t it be the same for me? Why can’t I sow my oats? Why can’t I have a final night?”
The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Michael Hemmingson Page 12
