Hands Down: ROUGH DRAFT.

In 82 hours their entire existence had bounced off the walls, to the floor, flew out the window, turned full circle and landed in their laps. It’s as if they could tangibly hold their lives, the car, the kids, the image, job, coffee, the Saturdays, the Tuesdays, the Hamburger Helper, and trips to the super market - all of it in their hands, mold it, dissect it, see what little substance actually held any of it together. The hotel room was silent for the first time, the door had closed and he had left. And this is what finally broke them, this silence, this one second to think. Twenty minutes ago Gordon had been listening, and watching his wife choke on this monster’s dick, tears and mascara dancing together down the side of her red, almost unrecognizable face. Not a single pitter of mind chatter, just eyelids peeled open like they were glued to his forehead and cheeks, like he was reading a book he could’ve never grasped but didn’t want to stop reading. His mind cracked a whip on his penis every time he felt it bolt with a bit of excitement. He wasn’t supposed to be getting off on this. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy what a helpless slut his wife resembled. He swore to himself that if his hands weren’t tied to his legs, that he would save her, hold her, tell her he loved her and he was sorry about fucking Angelica and that they would live happily ever after, but as long as he couldn’t do anything, he watched. He watched with eyes full of tears and a cock solid with blood.

“Yeah suck that cock baby. Doesn’t it feel good to be a dirty little slut? Doesn’t it feel good to taste that cock?” The man thrust into her mouth so hard that vomit came dripping out the sides. He had fed them, for the first time since this on-going fuck fest had started, that morning. Fruity Loops. Cindy could only stomach a few bites but in the slime now trickling down the sides of her thighs you could see it. That sweet rainbow. “What the fuck is this? You fucking puke on my cock?” He said, yanking her head up by her hair.

“I’m sorr…I’m sorr..” Cindy made a feeble attempt to hold it back, but in one big gust bile and colorful O’s came crashing at his feet.

“Oh that’s fucking it, you dirty little tramp, clean that shit up, clean it up!” He slammed her face to his feet. “Lick it up, come on… “ Cindy bit her mouth together as tight as she possibly could, her face half an inch above the vomit. It smelled sweet. “Oh I see, you’re one of those bitches huh? Can’t clean up after yourself” Without warning his foot came swiftly toward her face and with a bark from the bones of her nose her eyes went black. Out.

Gordon, who, in his mind, had been fucking his wife in the ass while she sucked the bile off the man’s feet and dick, snapped back to reality. His face set ablaze, his pitiable wife lie there unconscious and he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. His anger turned purple and morphed into guilt. Two weeks ago, two years ago, fuck, two decades ago he could’ve never sat there and taken mental notes for future masturbation material. Two decades ago he would find a way to save her, he empowered his wife and never would have envied a man who got to make her, or any woman for that matter, feel like a insignificant trick. The man looked at Gordon, the hardest looked Gordon had ever seen, it was almost graspable. Gordon didn’t believe in good, and evil, heaven or hell, but if it was real, Gordon believed this prick was the doorman, picking and choosing who deserves to go where. A moment of truth, of acuity, an absolute linear between delusion and reality bit like a snake, and Angelica’s sweet face dropped like a velvet curtain on the fore-front of his mind. End scene.

She had worked for him. Gordon was the most successful car salesmen on the shittiest car lot, to set the stage. Like a piece of rotting flesh next to a piece of dog shit, which one would the flies flock to first? Before Angelica, Gordon was a typical father, a typical husband, a typical mortgage payer. The most weight his mind held was whether or not him and Cindy were going to go to her parent’s house, or his for Christmas, or if they would fight over which pizza place to order from on Friday night. Angelica was attractive, and young, which caught his eye, of course, but he recognized it, and set it aside. Like a the first dirty magazine you get, that you let sit until you enter highschool, because frankly, it scares the shit out of you. Anyhow, she was his daughter’s age for Christ’s sake. All the guys in the office talked about the muddy things they would do to her if they had their chance, if their “big lump of lard wasn’t sitting at home with a rock on her finger”. Gordon would just laugh uneasily; he had never understood this side of a man, the one that could talk of a woman like she was nothing more than a hole to invade. If society had a mold of a decent man it was shaped exactly like Gordon.

Angelica’s desk was near the entrance of the building, visible from Gordon’s, but only slightly. On his way out one day, he noticed that she had left her computer on. Employees were not supposed to touch others computers but Gordon figured since she was the secretary and didn’t have access legal documents it wouldn’t be a big deal if he shut it down for her. He dragged the mouse over to the start menu when he saw an orange blinking box next to it. It was an MSN conversation with a “Hot Cameron 69”. Well this is terms for dismissal, employees are not supposed to be chatting on the internet, let alone with freaks named “Hot Cameron 69”, He thought, perhaps I should read through it maybe I’m jumping the gun, here. He skimmed the last few lines.

Angelica says: I want you to hurt me, I want you to fuck my ass so hard I bleed, I want you to rape me, chain my limbs and leave me on all fours for days.

Angelica said this? Angelica - with the pink cardigan and infectious laugh, the girl who brought a brown paper bag lunch in everyday? He read on.

Hot Cameron 69 says: Bitch I’m gonna make you cry, I’m gonna punish you for being such a dirty little skank. Are you getting wet? Are you getting wet thinking about what a worthless twat you are?

Angelica says: Mhmmm.

The head of Gordon’s penis jumped, and spit a little pre-cum onto his boxers. He had to get out of there, he didn’t even turn the computer off correctly, he pressed the big, round button in for a few seconds until the screen went black, and all was left was his reflection: Red faced and sweating.

On the way home mind ran a marathon, provoked and full of steam. There wasn’t a single thought that didn’t have blurred edges. A middle life crisis is one thing, but his mind wasn’t on a cherry red Porsche and a nice titted blonde. Not even a paragraph of filth had raped his world of his unyielding morale. When he entered the house, the smell of the tuna casserole his wife was cooking made his stomach curl, like a worm being poked at. The flight to the upstairs bathroom seemed to take days. He ran the shower, hot, and stood with his eyes closed, forcing himself to think about Alfred Hitchcock, lima beans, high school graduation, anything but how perfectly Angelica’s breasts separate and come back together, so firm, and round. His hand flew, grabbed his cock and started on it. Tugging and thinking about her whispering those words in his ear “I want you to rape me…”

Shaking the moment of his lust were three harsh knocks on the door. “Honey, your dinner’s getting cold? What are you doing in there anyway!”

“Oh, uh, I’m almost done! But I’m not too hungry tonight anyway”

“Did you stop by Burger King again? God damnit Gordon I thought we talked about that, the doctor says you’ve got to treat yourself better”

“Uh yeah I know honey, I know, won’t happen again…”

His dick had held a white flag, and went limp. He turned the knob to the right, and felt the last drop of water hit his shoulder. Silence.

He called in sick the next day and drove around until he didn’t know his way back home. He stopped at a mini mart to buy a map. He could have sworn the grungy man who rang him up was thinking about what a sick bastard Gordon was, like he could see through him. Gordon was certain if he had a daughter there, he would lock her in the back and beat Gordon to death right there in front of the register. There wasn’t enough shakes to move these thoughts from his head. The more he mulled each word over, the more his dick twitched and the more wicked he felt.

When Thursday slapped him in the face, he knew he had to return to work. Had he ever slept? Gordon hadn’t missed a day of work in almost three years let alone two. He had planned to say something to Angelica, that kind of behavior was just not acceptable in the work place, but every time she came into his office, or he walked by her desk, he averted his attention to something else.

“How are you Mr. Miller?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, tell Steve to get in here will you?”

With each clank of a step she took, he pictured taking a whip to her ass, and her wild yelps. At five o’clock when one by one each office dims, and the hums of computers, and the cars outside quiet, he called Angelica into his office.

“You wanted to see me? I’m in kind of a rush so…”

“Yeah, Angelica, take a seat…”

His dick was hard before he could even finish his sentence. The thought that he was reprimanding her got him hotter than anything ever had before.

“Uh oh, that’s never a good thing to hear from a boss, am I doing alright Mr. Miller? I know I didn’t get that report in on time but my car has been having issues, and I was only twenty minutes late…”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something… and it’s kind of a touchy subject…” His hands were shaking so he quickly placed them between his also jittering legs. He was an authority figure and should be seen as one, rather than a school boy close to wetting himself. “The other night you left your computer on and…” He had to stop there, the shock and wave of rose that saturated Angelica’s face was enough.

“Oh my god… Mr. Miller, I’m, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say… I’m so embarrassed, I understand if you need to fire me” she took a second and the tears that had begun to bud in her ducts drained, “… I mean, I don’t really know what to say, I’m so embarrassed, I really cannot afford to lose this job, I wont do it again, I’ll wash all the cars in the lot, I’ll do anything.”

Her pleads lingered, hung in the air, like the stench of a wet dog.