The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Michael Hemmingson

by Michael Hemmingson

  “You wanna fuck her in the ass?” Bart asked me.

  “Deeply.”

  “I like watching her taking it in the ass,” Bart said, “horny little bitch.”

  “That’s hot little bitch,” Randi said.

  Bart went to the store to get more alcohol. Randi and I were kissing on the bed, still naked.

  She stopped me.

  “I don’t like all this as much as you think,” she said.

  “This?”

  “It’s Bart’s thing,” she said. “It’s what turns him on.”

  “Maybe I should go.”

  “No.”

  “Now I feel weird.”

  “Don’t. This is fine,” she said.

  I didn’t feel like kissing.

  “I shouldn’t talk,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” I said.

  When Bart came back, Randi started sucking on my flaccid cock.

  I got hard.

  EIGHT

  I went to San Francisco to do a reading.

  I called Alexia. She lived in this city now, and I had her number.

  “Alexia,” I said, “it’s me.”

  “Where are you?” she said.

  “The City.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Really, I am. I’m doing a reading.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “How weird,” she said. “I didn’t hear about any reading. How weird.”

  “Why weird?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a secret,” she said.

  “I like secrets,” I said.

  “I know,” she said. “Then you write about other people’s secrets. You make the lives around you into stories.”

  “Well, I’m here and I’d like to see you,” I said. “Would you like to see me?”

  “Of course,” she said, “but I’m sick. Don’t I sound sick to you? I must sound sick.”

  “How sick?” I asked.

  “Sick in bed,” she said.

  I thought she said sick in the head.

  She said: “I haven’t gotten out of bed all day. That’s why I’m not at work. You know I got a job – finally. And not in the film biz. I’ve been sick for a few days but I’m getting over it – the flu, I had the flu, I still have the flu. A little bit.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said. “Well, the reading’s tonight,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “This bookstore on Valencia, I don’t know where: it’s called Sucking the Zeitgeist Books.”

  “If I feel better later on,” Alexia said, “I’ll go.”

  “Please go,” I said, “I’ll feel so rejected and sad if you don’t.”

  “Oh, you’re good, Nicky! You know what a guilt sponge I am! You’re manipulating me!” She was laughing.

  “I work at it,” I said.

  “OK,” she said, “I’ll be there.”

  It was good to see her. She did look a little sick and she kept wiping her nose with a tissue. She wore her dark-rimmed glasses and a short black dress; her long black hair was in a ponytail. I ran my fingers through her hair like I used to when we were together, those brief moments, and she smiled and made a sexy sound and said, “I like you touching my hair.” It all seemed so strange. We were sitting in Sucking the Zeitgeist Bookstore, which was also a coffee shop, with my publisher and another writer whose novel was out from this same publisher – his name was Luke and he was a professor from Utah and he also knew Barry McGinnis, they were colleagues of some sort, had edited a few special issues of journals together. Also with us was Karl, one of those – what I say – wannabe hangers-on; he published a magazine with a small circulation (had even published me) and all he liked to talk about were other writers, which was usually something bad; he also liked to talk about the novel he was writing, the novel that one day would blow all our minds. I’d met a lot of Karls since I’d been publishing my work. I was more drawn to his girlfriend, Lori, a tall thin woman who was quite pierced.

  Alexia leaned over and told me she had to pee and did I know where the bathroom was? I didn’t. I grabbed a glass from a table and put it by her knees and said, “Pee in here.”

  “I don’t know if my aim is that good,” she said. She got up and searched for the bathroom.

  I looked at the glass.

  “So where do you know her from?” Karl asked me.

  “Back home,” I said. “She was a McGinnis student.”

  “She’s cute,” Lori said.

  “Yeah,” my publisher said, smoking a cigarette, “she’s cute.”

  The reading was somewhat well attended, fifty or so people. They didn’t know who I was – no one knew who I was. I was obscure as any writer. I read, signed a few books. Luke read from his novel, Karl read some of his poetry.

  I hate readings. But my publisher had talked me into this.

  There was an open reading after. I figured that’s why most of these people were here: they wanted to read their own stuff, that constant search for an audience. I didn’t listen.

  We all went outside and talked about where we’d go. My publisher suggested this bar down the street. I wanted Alexia to go; she didn’t seem to be into it. She was huddling with Lori; the two girls were talking. Lori oozed sex, in her tight jeans, her cut-off top, exposing her pierced belly-button. Her nose and lips and eyebrows were also pierced.

  “Come along,” I said to Alexia.

  “She’s sick,” Lori said. “She has to go home.”

  “Lori is my doctor,” Alexia said; she smiled at Lori like they were old friends.

  “How far away do you live?” Lori asked her.

  “I’ll take the Muni,” Alexia said.

  “I’ll walk you,” I said.

  “You don’t have to walk me,” she said.

  “It’s dark,” I said.

  “It was dark when I came here.”

  “But if something happened to you, I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.”

  She took my hand and said, “How sweet.”

  It was weird walking hand-in-hand with her.

  “This is weird,” she said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “I feel weird,” she said.

  “I don’t,” I lied.

  “I haven’t seen you in months.”

  “Months, weeks, years: it’s all the same to me.”

  “What have you been doing with yourself? Other than going off to bad places? You know, I had a dream you were going to come here soon, a dream during my fever. That’s what’s so weird.”

  “Oh.”

  We were standing at the Muni tracks. “What train are you getting?”

  “The N Judah,” she said.

  I didn’t know what that was. She took her hand from mine. A train was coming and I was disappointed. “Is that yours?” I asked.

  “That’s the J Church,” Alexia said. “I want the N Judah.”

  I felt better and said, “I like San Francisco – I need to come here more often.”

  “Be sure to always call me when you do.”

  I pulled her close to me.

  “Oh, now,” she said.

  “The last time we were together,” I said, “before you moved here, remember what you told me –”

  “Yes.”

  “– that when I came up here, your bed was open to me, that you wanted me to stay with you . . .”

  “I had a feeling you’d remember that,” she said.

  “I don’t want to go to that bar.”

  “They’ll wonder what happened to you. They’ll get worried.”

  “I’ll call,” I said. “I’d rather go home with you.”

  She put her face into my chest.

  “Alexia,” I said, touching her.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” she said, “but I’m sick and you’ll get sick, too. I’d love to take you home and fuck you all night and deep down I really want to do that, I want to fuck you:
but you’ll just get sick.”

  “So I’ll get sick.”

  “I don’t feel very sexual, right now,” she said. “I’m too sick to have you in my bed. I wouldn’t mind having you there but I’m really very tired and it wouldn’t be good for both of us. My ass doesn’t feel like fucking. I just, I just . . .”

  Another train started to come our way.

  “N Judah?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  I wanted a kiss but she turned. She said, “You’ll get my flu and you don’t want that.”

  I kissed her cheek.

  “You’re here for a few days?” she said.

  I nodded.

  “If I feel better tomorrow night, I want you to come stay with me.”

  I stood there and watched N Judah go away and then headed back to the location of the bar my colleagues had gone to. I hoped I’d gotten the directions right. This wasn’t a good neighborhood, but I’d been in worse. There were a lot of dealers and whores mixed with club-goers – and some pretty tough-looking bars that appeared interesting. A woman was screaming from the third floor of a hotel; she threw a bottle down which shattered not too far from me. She kept screaming. I could’ve took a cab, but I liked what I was seeing. I felt in the zero and I wanted to be with the zero. I was a rising young writer, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I supposed to be above all this? I didn’t feel like it. Someone tried to sell me crack and it was tempting. There were bodies sleeping in all the alleys.

  I found the bar. I didn’t like it – too many successful-looking thirtysomethings in suits and evening gowns, with a jazz band playing in the corner. I had a beer. It was too comfortable here.

  We were joined by a young lady who was doing publicity for my publisher. Her name was Kate.

  Outside the bar, we debated whether we should walk or take a cab. We were going back to my publisher’s house. My feet already hurt from all the San Francisco trekking.

  “We could all fit into two cabs,” my publisher said. She stood on the street corner and said, “It’s so cheap to get there and so far to go.”

  “That’d be a great title for a book,” I said.

  “Write it,” she said.

  I was sharing a cab with Karl and Lori. My publisher, Luke, and Kate were in the other cab.

  “What’s to do at her house?” Karl was saying. “I don’t feel like going there. Do you?”

  “I’m staying there,” I said.

  “Why don’t you stay with us?” Lori said.

  I guess I knew, deep down, that I would get the opportunity to fuck Lori. I didn’t think that Karl would have to be around.

  I plain just did not like Karl, no matter how much he tried to get buddy-buddy with me. He was a fake, he had that air about him. I’d read his fiction and poetry and it was pure crap. The guy didn’t know how to write. He had a beer gut and a dull look to his eyes and I had to wonder what Lori saw in him. They’d been together for three years, I was told. She was a delectable person, and I couldn’t wait to have her. They had a spacious and dark apartment with a coffin in the living room, which I was told was a guest bed. I had no intention of sleeping in that. We drank some beer, they smoked pot (I didn’t care much for pot); then Karl said, “Hey, I have some XTC.”

  “Let’s do some X,” Lori said.

  “OK,” I said.

  Karl went to get the drug. Lori licked her lips. I tried projecting to her that I wanted her – could she read my mind? She had the thickest lips. I wondered how painful it was to pierce them. Karl returned with three capsules of the drug in question.

  It was the perfect drug to get into the right mood.

  Karl put on some music: gothic, electronic, and eerie. Lori began to dance around the room, her body slinky, slithery. She took her top off; small, pointed breasts. She pulled her jeans down, and danced in black thong underwear. There was a tattoo of a naked woman on her ass, a Celtic band around her ankle. She danced and she danced and the drug started to get to us all; my mind was intent on fucking this dancing body. My cock was hard and it hurt.

  Lori peeled her panties off. Her cunt was shaved naked, her clit and her labia both pierced. She touched herself.

  “I’m so fucking wet,” she said. “Won’t you two just fuck me?”

  We went to the bedroom. There was a futon on the floor, clothes scattered all over. Karl lit a candle. I was sucking on Lori’s tits, falling to the futon, undressing myself. Karl loomed over us and watched. He began to undress. I didn’t care to watch him.

  I put my cock in Lori’s mouth. Her tongue was pierced, and the metal ball against my cock’s flesh was a nice sensation, especially on the drug.

  Karl was naked, and moved to join us. I saw his dick and was amazed. He had the biggest one I’d ever seen up close. I’d say eleven inches, and very thick and veiny, with a large head. Maybe this is why she liked him, lived with him. Was it really just the cock? I’m an average-sized guy; I didn’t feel threatened by Karl’s dick, I was just flabbergasted.

  Lori positioned herself so that she could suck me, and Karl could fuck her from behind. She took in a deep breath and her body stiffened when he entered her. We did this for a while, then Lori turned around so that she could suck Karl, and I slid myself into her cunt. We switched back again. Then Lori got on top of me, riding me. Karl moved behind her. He spat in his palm, rubbed his saliva on her asshole, his hand grazing my cock as he did so. I couldn’t imagine him getting that monster flesh into her butt, but he did, and it wasn’t easy for her. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she cried, digging her nails into my chest. I could feel Karl’s member through her septum, and realized I’d never done this before, not even with Bart and Randi. Our bodies were hot with the drug and the physical motion, slicked wet with sweat. Each thrust into her anus, Lori grunted, eyes shut. Karl was enjoying himself. Tears formed at Lori’s eyes.

  “Let’s switch positions,” Karl suggested.

  He laid down on the bed, and Lori got on top of him. I got behind her. Her asshole was a gaping hole; it was like someone had bored a cavern into her ass, it was so wide. Obviously, I didn’t have any trouble putting it in her, and I felt nothing. It took a minute for her sphincter to undilate, and snug around my cock. When it did, it was nice, but now her cunt was being drilled by Karl’s monster. I closed my eyes and came into her bowels. Lori reached back for me as I pulled out, took my cock in her mouth, and cleaned it. Karl got up, gently pushing her onto her stomach, so he could get on top of her, and go back into her ass. I stood there and watched his prick violate her ass in a glorious way – he was fucking her hard, she was crying into the sheets, he started laughing, and came himself. He got up, his body covered in sweat, and said, “Look at that.”

  Lori lay there shaking, her ass once again blown open.

  “I love wrecking her rectum,” he said.

  The woman who’d published my collection of stories, her name was Brianna. She had spiked, dyed blonde hair and a number of piercings and tattoos herself, and was two years younger than me. I didn’t have any ideas about her because she was a lesbian, and lived with her lover, Raven. Raven didn’t like me, I could tell; Raven had dyed black hair and was goth and had a whole lot of tattoos.

  Brianna’s publishing my book was a fluke. She had a small company that released industrial bands (mostly San Francisco home grown) on CD, and she published a quarterly magazine with a focus on alternative music and literature. She’d published several of my stories, and soon began accepting so many that one day she sent me an email suggesting she publish all the stories as a book, because she also had a novel by this professor in Utah that she wanted to publish. So now she was a book publisher, her press was unknown – another small press in a sea of many. My books were warehoused in her basement. Like the publisher of my first novel, she was a one-person operation, for the most part, and she was probably going to lose a lot of money putting my words into the world.

  “So you went to Karl and Lori’s,” she said.

  Her lover, Raven, wrinkled he
r nose.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Brianna grinned, and shook her head.

  That evening, Luke and I did another reading, at Small Press Traffik. The attendance was small, but the people were very interested in the work. I signed a few books.

  Brianna wasn’t completely alone in her venture as a publisher; she had her friend Kate helping her with publicity. Kate was at this reading, and she came back to Brianna’s apartment, where we drank tequila and vodka, and Brianna and Raven smoked pot. Kate started smoking, and so did Luke. Then Luke wanted to order pizza, so we ordered pizza.

  Luke retired early to the guest room; he had to go back to Utah in the morning. Raven also went to bed. I was going to sleep on the fold-out couch in the living room.

  It was me, Brianna, and Kate.

  The three of us got drunk. Brianna started dancing around the room, saying, “Why am I so crazy? Why am I so crazy?”

  She bumped into a bookcase, a tall bookcase, that almost came crashing down on her.

  “Bri!” Kate said, laughing.

  “Oooohhh,” Brianna went. “I’m fucked up. Maybe I should go to bed.”

  “I’m too drunk to go home,” Kate said, “but here’s a pillow!” and she laid her head in my lap. I was sitting on the couch.

  I looked down at her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  I touched her round face, and caressed it. I ran my fingers through her thick, dirty blonde hair.

  “What a cute sight,” my publisher said.

  I tried to reach down and kiss Kate. It was hard. She sat up, and we kissed. Brianna watched us, weaving.

  “I had a feeling you two would hit it off,” Brianna said.

  “Go to bed,” Kate said.

  Brianna stumbled into her bedroom.

  “Turn off the lights,” Kate said.

  I got up, switched the lights off, as Kate folded the couch out into a bed. As she adjusted the sheets, I got undressed. I got on the bed. She also took her clothes off, leaving her bra and panties on. I held out my arms; she came to me, and we held each other and kissed.

  Her body was small and plump and warm.

  “When I saw your author photo, three months ago,” she said, “you know, for the book?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I knew I wanted you. I knew I’d have you.”