Lust Demented

by Michael D. Subrizi

  “Now that’s something to wake up to.” I stared in her big brown eyes forgetting the park.

  “You should see it at night. This is my favorite direction to look at the park from. It makes you feel like you own the entire city.” Adelora motioned to a painting on the wall. “Lars also left me something priceless that Percy Featherton once owned.” The painting was of a woman dressed only in a white blouse sitting on the floor. You had a better view of the hair on her pussy than her face. She was leaning against a bed that was blocking an unlit fireplace. A rectangle of light was on the floor. She apparently chose not to sit in the light, although a few of her toes seemed to sneak into it.

  “It’s called Summer Inferior by Ed Hopper. Something about the woman’s isolation makes me uneasy.”

  “Yeah. I usually have that effect on women. As soon as I leave she’ll feel better.”

  “But I’ll miss you.” Adelora stretched and crinkled her toes, letting down her hair.

  “Lars was one of the few that understood me. It really fucks me up that he’s gone.”

  “I feel the same way. Despite his primitive womanizing, crazy artist bullshit, and the fact he was only a tad bit older than me… Lars played a fatherly role in my life. Strange thing is I don’t even have anything from my own father after he passed. My uncle tells me that he was so proud that I was going to be a lawyer until he realized that I was practicing corporate law. Supposedly, he always introduced himself to everyone as a communist. Second thing I heard he did was show off his Patek Phillipe watch. One of the richest communists you’ll ever meet. Your best friend and I had similar feelings about our fathers, except my mother never allowed me to meet mine.”

  A buzz at the door. Diego seems stressed. Something’s wrong.

  “Excuse me Ms. Rosario. The police are waiting downstairs for your friend.”

  “Farrow. Be a good father.” Teflon for the gunfight. Adelora pulled me close, laying a deep kiss on me, before sending me down with Diego.

  “I hate that look on you face like a dog searching for food.”

  “It’s all in your imagination.”

  “Am I in your imagination? Is our baby growing inside just a dream?”

  “The girl in the elevator.”

  “The girl in the elevator?”

  The elevator had a strong chemical smell. I felt a panic coming on, wondering what would happen if the elevator got stuck between floors and how long it would take before the toxic fumes dropped us on the floor.

  “I saw you on the news.”

  “Did I look guilty?”

  “Yes. To me you look very guilty. What does it feel like to kill someone?”

  “I don’t know who you are anymore.” Missy seemed to really believe in the words.

  The elevator opened to Sgt. Bethany Powers putting on a last touch of lipstick. Twisting the cap closed, she retrieved a plastic bag clenched between her legs.

  “We found Missy.”

  “I’ve heard you say that before.”

  “Don’t miss your last chance to look her in the eyes and say goodbye.”

  “I’m not going this time. Let me have my book back.”

  “Which one…” My book dangled in the evidence bag like a squid she just reeled up from a pier.

  “The one you stole from my apartment. The one in your hands.” I grabbed my book in the evidence bag allowing Sgt. Bethany Powers to use it as a leash to steer me outside.

  “Hop on Farrow. We’re burning daylight.” Detective Anderson posed ten feet above the ground sitting on solid brown muscle. The giant cop waved his pistol, saving every bullet. The police horse neighed raising his snout at me, both nostrils flaring.

  {XXX}

  HOOVES ON COBBLESTONES OR MAYBE just cracked cement and torn road. Bucking up a cruel storm, Detective Anderson and his trusty steer locked in on the 6th Avenue entrance leading into Central Park. I was just a tick on their back. A tick they didn’t care to tear off until it was goddamn certain the fangs wouldn’t stay in their skin.

  “Sometimes I’m convinced that it was you, Farrow.”

  “Percy or Gloom?”

  “Percy, Gloom, Missy, Lars, and sooner or later… yourself.”

  “It’s odd they hired me in the first place.”

  “What’s so odd about that?”

  “Finally I’m getting paid for writing.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I have a job that has nothing to do with writing, but I knock out a couple pages a day and still get a decent salary.

  “They’re going to fire you.”

  “I’m almost finished anyway.”

  “It’s always the same story with you.”

  Emptied of everything, we trotted deep into the urban oasis peacefully hooking around the pond. The ducks made trails in the water. They seemed for the most part to move together in their little crews. A few were off doing their own thing, but before they knew it they were swept up by the others. Mindlessly dragged along in their clan’s foraging.

  Swaying in the midnight breeze, two cops were guarding the entrance to the zoo. One of them had such a troubled look on his face that it leapt from his body into mine. My stomach instantly began to constrict with nausea. My head felt lightwired spliced into frizzing ends.

  “I hear we’re going to the lion’s cave.” Detective Anderson’s deep voice bellowed through the zoo shrinking even the polar bear’s testicles.

  Out of the zoo’s darkness a man in a labcoat approached. “There’s no lion’s cave here detective. Actually, I found her in the snow monkeys’ enclosure.”

  “You found her?” Detective Anderson hopped off the horse, gesturing for me to follow without helping me down.

  “Right, I’m Vivek, a monkey psychologist here at the zoo. I studied biology at Hunter…”

  “A zookeeper?”

  “Correct a zookeeper.”

  “You sticking around to give us a tour?”

  Vivek nodded. He seemed to be searching for an answer. I wanted to tell him he wouldn’t find one here. Eager to get on with it, the zookeeper helped us tie up the horse and get moving. Patches of darkness where lights failed to reach. Together we climbed over a fence into a rocky island surrounded by hot springs. High pitched monkey calls filled the air.

  “Walk where I walk. The monkeys are used to people. Just don’t do anything to scare them. They’re strong and their teeth are sharp.”

  Detective Anderson gave me an exasperated look as we followed Vivek along the rocks stopping under a grotto. Char marks moved up the walls like demons claws. Shells were scattered on the ground. Snow monkeys eyed us up and down trying to discern friend or foe.

  “Divided in the way her executioner saw fit.” Detective Anderson squinted, vice-like lids trapping his pupils.

  “Seems she was lit on fire. That’s how I realized… when I saw the flames.” Vivek was disturbed, but curious.

  “What’s on your mind Farrow?”

  The body dissected in front of me lost all its former beauty. I was no expert biologist, serial killer, or surrealistic painter. Fingers had to be attached to hands. Heads to necks. Knees to legs, and so forth. I didn’t know how to take them apart, nor put them back together. The unlucky lunch meat in front of me had to be somebody at one point, but it no longer mattered. Endings were always ugly. The only way I could bear the world’s ugliness was to scribble over it.

  “Darkness blocking you in?” Sgt. Bethany Powers’ voice was there before her body.

  “You can tell us where Missy is Farrow.” Detective Anderson gave the signal and Vivek made haste.

  “If I knew where she was, you’d have to rip her from my grasp.”

  “Squeeze her so she comes back to life.”

  “Missy’s only a memory. She’s only a fantasy. The past doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  “But what about her lips? You can still taste them.” Penetrating, Sgt. Bethany Powers’ stare was more sexual than accusative.

  �
�You led me here.”

  “You take the words out of my mouth.”

  “Percy killed Monika Gloom.” It was a hostage situation. I didn’t want to be their source of truth, but I had to do something to prevent a bigger tragedy.

  “Don’t get distracted Farrow. You’ve been a suspect the whole time. We let you run a little wild hoping you would lead us in the right direction.”

  “Whose body do you think this is?”

  “Why is she dead? Do you know who…?”

  “I don’t… it’s impossible to tell.”

  The monkeys started chattering uneasily. A mounting attack felt imminent. Sgt. Bethany Powers beckoned for my new book back.

  “It’s not ready.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.” Sgt. Powers had her gun out, so it was her call… her world. I stayed on my knees and begrudgingly forked over my writing.

  Sgt. Bethany Powers let the pages fall to the rocks. The maniac cop was more interested in the plastic evidence bag, which she promptly put over my head. Wrapped up as evidence myself, I watched the snow monkeys scrutinize me, slightly distorted. I tried not to gasp, when she pulled out the large sharpened scissors. I knew it was the murder weapon by the way she held it.

  The air was going and all I could think about was my daughter. I was at a crossroads where I welcomed death’s supposed tranquility. The last conversation I had with Hawaii haunted me. A father had to live, in case he was needed.

  The suffocation came on with every choke snatching up more air that wasn’t there. I lost control of my neural capacities. My head gently swung back and forth. Sgt. Bethany Powers readied herself with the blade. I expected it across my throat, instead she popped the bag, jabbing me ever so gently with the sharp edge of the scissors. I could breathe again. I felt the cobra’s fangs just by hearing her hiss. Detective Anderson grimaced chewing on a piece of .44 caliber evidence, careful not to chip any teeth.

  {XXXI}

  DARK LAND OF SHADOWS. I couldn’t see what was tracking me, but I could hear her exquisite gallop.

  “You miss out on the whole world to make your own.” Missy was angry again. Infuriated that I was writing instead of doing what she conceived I was supposed to be doing. My family was giving me the benefit of the doubt for what would turn out to be last time. This was the moment I was disowned. The word alone was too weak and I suspected the compulsion was layered deep in splinters of family history or frayed genetics.

  “Writing controls you. Everything you try to do is interrupted with ideas. I’m surprised you can even make love to me without working on your book.” Little did Missy know that sometimes I was fleshing it out when I was fleshing it out. It was always to create more vibrant sketches of the muse.

  A hand showed up to wipe the sweat from my face. Kiko left some human salt on my lips. Kissing me with her entire body. “I’m going to bring you to see the last person to speak to Missy.”

  Stroboscopic city speeding within our zoetrope. The neon was flashing, but the world stayed murky. Police cars flew by, diseased bats through the caverns. Somewhere west of Broadway, there was a small staircase between a kebab joint and a porn emporium. The first set of steep stairs were labeled in yellow and black with the various services offered in the building: Employment Agency. Massage. Bodywork. English School. Sauna.

  The hallways had bizarre tiled patterns on the floors and dents in the walls from rowdy old bruisers. The stairs seemed to get steeper every flight we walked. Kiko ran her hands along the uneven walls absorbing their stories. A powder white woman was waiting for us on the top of the stairs.

  “Farrow this is my mother Kuroneko. You’ll be safe here.” Kuroneko had the lightest eyes I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure what color they were since they kept changing.

  “Only women inside. No problem for you.” I doubted that made it any safer. Kuroneko was eager to get me out of sight. In a low voice she seemed to be giving Kiko instructions on how to handle the situation. Kiko just kept nodding, but her face told a different story. The way she looked into my eyes put me at ease. Let me know she was doing things her way.

  Kuroneko and Kiko led me into to a time warp. A tunnel system of wood-paneled walls. Strangely desolate and completely foreign, I couldn’t place where we could be. The air felt filtered. Tasted cleaner than it should ever be inside a building. I closed my eyes, enjoying every long breath.

  “What’s going o…”

  “Shhhh… secret.” I could feel Kuroneko’s pinkie wrap around mine. Forcing me to swear on it. “No English. No words.” I could feel the heat escape as the next door opened. Low visibility. Too much steam. They sat me down on the smooth wood slats. There were other women in the room. Their eyes popped from the artificial fog. Their aroma blended into the herbal haze. Outlines to live and die by. The girls pulled me up to a sitting position and walked away.

  I saw three hexagons of light in the ceiling. The shapes were coming from the passing traffic outside. The hexagons turned to squares than rectangles. The room was otherwise dark. Missy lay next to me in bed. Though we were on opposite ends of the same bed, under the cover I could feel her foot graze against mine. Her body was always warm. Maybe just a genetic gift for surviving an unforgiving climate. Missy’s mind may have had enough of me, but her body had yet to follow orders.

  Kiko and Kuroneko were whispering in the other’s ears. Whatever they were saying took a little convincing. An agreement was finally reached. Five women approached me. They seemed to disapprove of my clothes, since they had none of their own. A blur of white towels, steam, and skin.

  “Farrow, put your legs up and relax?” Kuroneko lifted my feet higher on the bench.

  “Oh… okay.” I did as I was told. They were both staring under my towel. The more they stared, the more they had to stare at.

  “Bodies need to disappear. Do you know how you do that, Mr. Michael?” Kuroneko was only eyes.

  “No.”

  “Very tiny. Lose the tip of your toe. Next slowly forget the whole toe. Then the rest of your foot. Move up your leg. Do the same continuing until your body is gone.” The words were coming directly out of the steam with a strange echo.

  “Now you understand. One small section at a time. Little pieces until there is no pain left to feel. No pain left to know.”

  “I like that.”

  “You do, don’t you? The only problem is now that your body is gone: Do you know how to bring it back? Very dangerous if you can’t.” Kuroneko added a grin to her light chameleon eyes. I was kissing her without even knowing why. Another set of hands. Then another.

  “It’s okay Farrow. It’s okay.” Kiko’s gentle seraphic hum. My inhibitions evaporated. The steam swallowed me. I didn’t know who was who. My body didn’t care. My only compulsion became to soak whatever was dry. “Missy.” It was a vision of sorts. I knew she wasn’t there. Her warm curves were replaced with Kuroneko’s gasping pleas, “Secret Farrow. Secret.” The skin on her face was as soft as the inside of her thighs. Kiko stayed buried below fusing us with fervent nibbles. Thin arms spreading through the steam braced both of my shoulders, guiding me along each thrust with a giggle or grunt. Another pair hugged my neck, covering my face with two sets of wispy shoulder length hair. Silken chests suction-cupped to my sides. Their hooking fingers rhythmically coasted in and out of us all.

  An infernal growl disrupted the orgy. If I hadn’t heard it for days upon end, I wouldn’t have believed it to be true. I was alone following the roar, moving through the tunnels again. The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. It was absurd that this woman could keep a lion in the sauna without someone reporting it. The creature was relaxed, chewing on a sauna bench. Beasts just like this were eating my past. When a lioness is devouring something you can’t complain, only stare and watch in awe.

  “Farrow…” Kiko stood behind me comforting me.

  “I expected her to at least be in a cage.” I kept my body between Kiko and the lioness, in case the beast got the wrong idea.


  “Farrow there’s nothing there.” Kiko breathed uneasily.

  Nude Kuroneko approached her hands filled with books.

  “I keep her fed. It isn’t easy, but I keep her fed with what I can scavenge.” Kuroneko’s ivory flesh shook in ripples as she tossed the stories at the beast. One at a time, the lioness caught the waning tales in her jaws before the pages hit the ground.

  {XXXII}

  STEAM VANISHED. DARKNESS TO LIGHT. The bedroom was jam-packed with books. Books on the floor. Books on the walls. Books on the shelves. Books on the big king bed that filled the middle room wall to wall. A blanket of books half-burying Hawaii’s naked body tied to the bedposts with white lace.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m reading?”

  I tried to slide out of the knotted lace, but I was tied in too tight. Hawaii made an awkward grab for my hand, trying to comfort me. It was the best she could do in her position.

  “Farrow what’s your earliest memory?”

  “My grandmother always had Featherton dime mysteries scattered around her house. The skull on the binding… I can picture it so clearly.”

  “Books. I should’ve seen that coming.”

  “Not just books.”

  “Of course, there’s no such thing.”

  “What about you Hawaii? What’s your first memory?”

  “It might sound crazy, but I remember being in my mother’s womb. I remember the warmth. The loud whirring sound. The shadows.”

  “I need to know what happened.”

  “Yeah, you know Farrow I just approach my job as I would any other. If I give it too much thought, then I can’t focus on the task at hand. Without people like me these girls would be in tough spot. But I never let it become personal. I can’t do it for people I’m close to. They have to be strangers, beginning to end. If they give me a reason of why they are doing it, I don’t listen. I shut my head off and later make my own reason. I visualize them talking to me. Their mouths moving in the same way they moved when they first excused themselves to me, except with my words. My story.”