IV. A WHORE'S CHRISTMAS & WHALES
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HOW NATURE TOOK IT'S COURSE
IN WHICH OUR HERO PROVES HIMSELF A GENTLEMAN, OF SORTS
Even A Ho Has Feelings, Yo
(Part Four; Part One is HERE.)
Kris stood frozen in his own doorway. There in his kitchen was a beautiful teenage girl, nude. She was a perfect example of God's handiwork, and what a craftsman He was! How much thought must the Almighty have put into every curve, every dimple, every pink and glowing nanometer of Holly the Ho's fair and freshly scrubbed skin? What inspiration could have brought the Creator to such pinnacles of pulchritude? There were whole universes in her eyes, sparkling suns in her hair, stars glimmering from her teeth. She was an divine piece of ass.
Holly quickly extricated her towel from the drawer-handles that had caught it, and wrapped her perfect body in it. She scurried into the bedroom and slammed the door. Kris's bedroom door. He closed and locked the front door. He got a beer out of the fridge. He sat down in his funky old recliner and switched on the TV. A nature channel was showing a documentary about whales. It was better than nothing. It might keep his mind off the little goddess in his bedroom.
Of course, all he had to do was pay her, and she would gladly have sex with him. Gladly? Well, no, not gladly. Anyway, he didn't have much money. The weather had been terrible over Christmas, and the turista's simply weren't going out. No long $30 cab rides to Hanauma Bay or the Aloha Stadium Flea Market. No $160 round trips to the North Shore or $200 circle-island tours. Nothing but endless circling around Waikiki and the shopping centers, hoping for enough short $5 & $10 rides to pay for his $400 weekly cab rent, and $60 daily gas for the Cadillac V-8. He had barely made that today, and some money for food and beer. He still didn't have his $800 apartment rent, almost a month late and due again next week. He certainly couldn't afford to pay Holly for sex.
But what if he could? It would be worth it, every penny. She was delicious. But she probably had the clap, at best, or AIDS, at worst. And she might be under-age, though she didn't look it. Plus, he had to admit, these girls selling their asses on the street were kind of sad. And so were the men who patronized them.
This girl was special, though. This girl really tempted him. But this girl was so beautiful that he wanted to love her, not just to f**k her. He wanted her to love him. He wanted to save her and take her off the streets, give her a real life. Except that he himself did not have one. He was a thirty-something loser who would never amount to anything, as his parents had predicted. He had nothing and no one, owned only the clothes on his back and the junk in his apartment. He had never been anywhere or done anything of note. All that he could say was that he was honest, and that he had never done anyone any harm in his entire life.
So, why did he keep fantasizing about raping and killing this girl? Perhaps even raping her again after she was dead? And then eating her, like a cannibal? And burying her bones in the pineapple fields? Where did these ideas come from? Had she brought them into Kris's house with her? If he put her out, would such thoughts go away? Or was he forever tainted by her?
The bedroom door popped open then. Holly stood there in her towel; his towel. "My clothes are all wet. They were dirty, so I washed them in the tub. Do you have any clothes I could wear?"
"No."
"Well . . . is there a laundromat nearby, where I could use the dryers?"
"Downstairs, in the car-port, there's a washer and dryer."
"Does it cost money?"
"Of course. Fifty cents for ten minutes. It's slow though. Usually takes at least half an hour, forty minutes maybe. Two dollars."
"I don't have any money. Could I borrow some quarters?"
"Yeah. Sure. Here," Kris said, grunting up out of the chair and fishing in his jeans pocket, which was full to bursting with change.
"Wow. You have a lot of change," Holly said, drawing near to accept a handful of quarters. She smelled of soap and femininity. She was shorter than Kris and he looked down into her clear blue eyes. She was so young. A child, really.
"Thank you, um," she began.
"Kris. My name is Kris."
"I'm Holly. Thank you Chris. I'll pay you back. Let me just get my clothes and dry them, and I'll be out of your hair."
"It's OK. You're welcome here."
"Where is here?"
"Waikiki. Lemon Road. By the zoo."
"And how did I get here?"
"You don't remember?"
"No, did we..."
"--I found you lying in the street, downtown. I brought you here."
"Was that today, last night?"
"That was two days ago, Christmas Eve."
"Shit! I missed Christmas?"
"You slept right through it. I tried to wake you up, but you were exhausted, I guess."
"Wow. I never missed Christmas before." She started tearing up. "I love Christmas."
"Well, it's still Christmas week. You know, the Twelve Days Of Christmas?"
"It is?
"Sure. We can still have Christmas dinner."
"For real?" She sniffed and wiped her nose on his towel, and dried her eyes. "I'm such a GIRL."
"For real."
She laughed. "Do we have to have it here?"
"Ah, no. We can go out."
"I don't have any nice clothes."
"We'll think of something."
"Yeah. OK. We'll think of something. I'll go dry my stuff."
She flounced out the door in her towel and slippahs with her whore outfit balled up in her hands. She looked very young. She almost reminded Kris of his own little sister, the last time he had seen her; although Holly was much prettier. Kris preferred not to think about his little sister. He sat in his chair and sipped his beer and watched the show about whales.
[ PART FIVE copyright 2008 Cosa Nostradamus.]
.
.
IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM YOUR BLOGGERS:
SUPPORT OUR TROOPS: BRING THEM ALL HOME ALIVE, NOW!
HOW NATURE TOOK IT'S COURSE
IN WHICH OUR HERO PROVES HIMSELF A GENTLEMAN, OF SORTS
Even A Ho Has Feelings, Yo
(Part Four; Part One is HERE.)
Kris stood frozen in his own doorway. There in his kitchen was a beautiful teenage girl, nude. She was a perfect example of God's handiwork, and what a craftsman He was! How much thought must the Almighty have put into every curve, every dimple, every pink and glowing nanometer of Holly the Ho's fair and freshly scrubbed skin? What inspiration could have brought the Creator to such pinnacles of pulchritude? There were whole universes in her eyes, sparkling suns in her hair, stars glimmering from her teeth. She was an divine piece of ass.
Holly quickly extricated her towel from the drawer-handles that had caught it, and wrapped her perfect body in it. She scurried into the bedroom and slammed the door. Kris's bedroom door. He closed and locked the front door. He got a beer out of the fridge. He sat down in his funky old recliner and switched on the TV. A nature channel was showing a documentary about whales. It was better than nothing. It might keep his mind off the little goddess in his bedroom.
Of course, all he had to do was pay her, and she would gladly have sex with him. Gladly? Well, no, not gladly. Anyway, he didn't have much money. The weather had been terrible over Christmas, and the turista's simply weren't going out. No long $30 cab rides to Hanauma Bay or the Aloha Stadium Flea Market. No $160 round trips to the North Shore or $200 circle-island tours. Nothing but endless circling around Waikiki and the shopping centers, hoping for enough short $5 & $10 rides to pay for his $400 weekly cab rent, and $60 daily gas for the Cadillac V-8. He had barely made that today, and some money for food and beer. He still didn't have his $800 apartment rent, almost a month late and due again next week. He certainly couldn't afford to pay Holly for sex.
But what if he could? It would be worth it, every penny. She was delicious. But she probably had the clap, at best, or AIDS, at worst. And she might be under-age, though she didn't look it. Plus, he had to admit, these girls selling their asses on the street were kind of sad. And so were the men who patronized them.
This girl was special, though. This girl really tempted him. But this girl was so beautiful that he wanted to love her, not just to f**k her. He wanted her to love him. He wanted to save her and take her off the streets, give her a real life. Except that he himself did not have one. He was a thirty-something loser who would never amount to anything, as his parents had predicted. He had nothing and no one, owned only the clothes on his back and the junk in his apartment. He had never been anywhere or done anything of note. All that he could say was that he was honest, and that he had never done anyone any harm in his entire life.
So, why did he keep fantasizing about raping and killing this girl? Perhaps even raping her again after she was dead? And then eating her, like a cannibal? And burying her bones in the pineapple fields? Where did these ideas come from? Had she brought them into Kris's house with her? If he put her out, would such thoughts go away? Or was he forever tainted by her?
The bedroom door popped open then. Holly stood there in her towel; his towel. "My clothes are all wet. They were dirty, so I washed them in the tub. Do you have any clothes I could wear?"
"No."
"Well . . . is there a laundromat nearby, where I could use the dryers?"
"Downstairs, in the car-port, there's a washer and dryer."
"Does it cost money?"
"Of course. Fifty cents for ten minutes. It's slow though. Usually takes at least half an hour, forty minutes maybe. Two dollars."
"I don't have any money. Could I borrow some quarters?"
"Yeah. Sure. Here," Kris said, grunting up out of the chair and fishing in his jeans pocket, which was full to bursting with change.
"Wow. You have a lot of change," Holly said, drawing near to accept a handful of quarters. She smelled of soap and femininity. She was shorter than Kris and he looked down into her clear blue eyes. She was so young. A child, really.
"Thank you, um," she began.
"Kris. My name is Kris."
"I'm Holly. Thank you Chris. I'll pay you back. Let me just get my clothes and dry them, and I'll be out of your hair."
"It's OK. You're welcome here."
"Where is here?"
"Waikiki. Lemon Road. By the zoo."
"And how did I get here?"
"You don't remember?"
"No, did we..."
"--I found you lying in the street, downtown. I brought you here."
"Was that today, last night?"
"That was two days ago, Christmas Eve."
"Shit! I missed Christmas?"
"You slept right through it. I tried to wake you up, but you were exhausted, I guess."
"Wow. I never missed Christmas before." She started tearing up. "I love Christmas."
"Well, it's still Christmas week. You know, the Twelve Days Of Christmas?"
"It is?
"Sure. We can still have Christmas dinner."
"For real?" She sniffed and wiped her nose on his towel, and dried her eyes. "I'm such a GIRL."
"For real."
She laughed. "Do we have to have it here?"
"Ah, no. We can go out."
"I don't have any nice clothes."
"We'll think of something."
"Yeah. OK. We'll think of something. I'll go dry my stuff."
She flounced out the door in her towel and slippahs with her whore outfit balled up in her hands. She looked very young. She almost reminded Kris of his own little sister, the last time he had seen her; although Holly was much prettier. Kris preferred not to think about his little sister. He sat in his chair and sipped his beer and watched the show about whales.
[ PART FIVE copyright 2008 Cosa Nostradamus.]
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Labels: addict, blues, Chinatown, christmas, cocaine, crack, downtown, driver, hawaii, ho, holiday, Honolulu, prostitute, story, street, taxi, underage, Waikiki, whore, Xmas
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posted by Cosa Nostradamus @ 12/27/2008 12:05:00 AM
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2 Comments:
I like the name of the chapter. So far he's being a gentleman. Even if he has those awful thoughts. I wonder how many people actually have awful thoughts like that, but never act on them?
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Everyone. It's just a matter of how and whether you act on them. The dangerous people are the ones who can't distinguish fantasy from reality. The powerful people too. Ironically, they're the ones who want to control out thoughts, and censor our words, even as they slaughter thousands. It's a sick world, all right.
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