It was Christmas. Again. Not the best time of year for those that were perpetually angry. Those who had nothing to show for all the years of trying to get somewhere but not exactly knowing the why of their most desired destination. A lonely times when others pulled away to be with their own and one felt even more like a total stranger. It was amazing to him how quickly the streets outside in the cold emptied of almost all life at this time of year. One found themselves like it or not trapped within the great empty expanse of an emotion al desert. Something that always had struck Harvey as the highest irony of the season. Even as a kid.
Oh, he had grown up within the facade of what was termed a ‘normal’ family of the time. An era when the wildest thing one did was to sneak out the window late at night when the rest of the family was fast asleep to roam the empty neighborhood and look to see what it looked like under the stars. A wild plane of mystery that was equally exciting for its unaccustomed vacancy. Nothing beyond an occasional passing auto to suggest anything approaching human existence. He supposed that he could have been a ‘peeper’ in those golden years. Some twisted individual that looked through partially open drapes into the bedrooms of sleeping households o catch a glance of some display of another meaningless animal act of lust or hapless home-bound undress. It may have crossed his mind at the time? But he had grown up a ‘rabbit’. Someone ever mindful of the proverbial revolver stored in the drawer loaded and at the ready in the lamp table next to the bed. Or a pump shotgun that some overactive loose cannon would come rushing out with in the dark to protect hearth and home. Though he had always yearned to see these hidden sights of the mediocrity of mundane private life he would never in a thousand years think to take that fatal step to risk life and limb to review it.
If one were to examine the world format he standpoint of the customs it held dear, Harvey surmised, one would find a basic sense of barbaric satisfaction behind the scenes driving everything. Hunger and want driving anger and revenge. If not for any rational reason then simply for the habitual blood lust and avarice that formed the core of every society to survive its rivals. Take Christmas he thought. What did the various artifacts so fundamental to its yearly celebration represent? What were there origins back down in the rabbit hole of the past? he had heard several times over the year that a Christmas tree was a Northern European invention that’s cultural antecedent was hung not with aluminum coated glass ornaments but with freshly severed pieces of the limbs and body parts of rival tribes as an offering to the gods. The white flecks of mistletoe significant of misplaced semen spilled in the rape of women taken as a prize after the murder of the other tribe’s men and children. One small outpost of humanity descending in the frigid cold upon another in order to survive both the season and the millennia. Now of course, the same task was equally more subtle and simultaneously overt. Bombs, missiles and finances!
He stood staring out the window thinking of all these things. The animal within him pacing back and forth. Another night alone. Another holiday held from him at a distance by the collective society of strangers to which he was only useful as another nameless consumer. The anger and the desire rose up within him from within. He was hungry for a woman. Not any woman. Someone who was not sweet and giving but another animal that had sharp teeth and claws that had scarred others like himself. He wasn’t sure if his speechless beast wanted to devour her or be devoured? He just wanted to confront her in the dark. Stalk her like some common beast and fuck her brains out as the common less polite lexicon of society might say. To a significant segment of the young post adolescent segment of both sexes this was a noble and quite frankly a normal impulse. The thought that his age entered into it, he being several decades past the usual practitioner of this art made him steam like a pot left boiling on the stove. He could recall a girl or two. One in particular that he had met in a club in the first year of his third decade. Someone that he had summoned up the gumption to ask to dance but had found the response of the object of his desire less than lackluster. Some evil irony had found her being married to his best friend within a year later as if by some divine sense of punishment ever present as someone else’s plucked prize. A certain thread of resentment hiding under the civility and respect that the situation demanded for the next couple of decades. Thank god his friend had died after they had moved away and he no longer had to think of ways to kill him as idle mental play.
The bar was near to closing when he arrived. The barmaids were cleaning up the forest of lipstick riddled glasses empty that populated the table tops like the mad outgrowth of poisoned patches of mushrooms. Not much ‘action’. A small group of diffident young females to dumb and youthfully skinny to be of any service to the current internal madness of his mental ravings. He wan’t sure if he could still get a drink as it appeared that a last call may have been sounded just before his entrance. He sat sown in front of a half emptied drink recently abandoned and made off like he had been sitting there for some time. His eyes peeled he noticed a rather husky looking frame with long blonde tipped hair appear at the back of the establishment. He could tell that her perorations were ample in a manner that was probably more appreciated by the male than the competition of typical womanhood that strived to find perfection in near anorexia. He felt the impulse to rise from his seat to initiate the chase when the bartender strode up. “Last call mac, what are you having?“, a woman’s voice unexpectedly interjected. The face attached to it was comely in the sort of way that a decade and a half of too much existence at night had left it. She looked over at the object of his ramping desire and then back at him. “Forget it!“, she said mater of faculty, “That piece belongs to the bouncer.” “You won’t get anywhere with her!” Harvery shot a glance over at his fleeing prey scampering into the arms of magically conjured muscle bound moron and then back at the woman who was now positioning his drink upon the filigree of wet circles that remained from former anonymous habitation. The light was still purposefully dim though it was apparent that the illumination’s evil cousins would soon be loosed to drive off the remaining stragglers so the place could close. “I need somebody.” , Harvey turned and stated matter of faculty. “I came her tonight to find someone to fuck!” The bartender stared back blankly unimpressed. “That’s what I appreciate in a man!” “Honesty!” She stared back for a half a moment as if she was exhausted of any further comment then walked back down the bar as if she had never said a word int he first place. Harvey looked back down at his drink and downed half of it.
He looked up as mechanically casual as he could at back of the hip heavy frame that the back of his server presented from afar. “Not too bad but . . . sheesh! . . . what an attitude!” He looked away in the other direction to see if there was any other potential left in some corner he might have missed. Then emptily back at the remaining promise of his half a glass of beer with its waning foam now mostly wasted away. The room had was near to empty only one remaining table of a small ensemble of two throughly soused couple that were stuttering their chairs upon the floor as they rose to drag the sleeves of their coats on. Harvey looked back down resignedly at the last insubstantial gulp in his glass that was the only thing standing between him and the door. “C’mon sugar!“, the voice rang out from before him. The bright lights of doom signaling closing suddenly went pi spotlighting him in their glare. He looked up startles to find the bartender with her coat on fielding her purse upon her shoulder with a matter of fact look. “Don’t look so shocked!“, she replied to his short silent pause. “It’s not a pickup just a quick shack up!” “I many not be a Princess Jasmine, Alladin, but I think that I’ll do for tonight!” Harvey just looked back without a response and suddenly rose up pushing his own chair back abruptly to stutter across the wooden floor as his ‘date’ rounded the corner bend of the bar and took hold of his hand. The two disappearing into the night.
The bedroom was some insubstantial manifestation of a half-hearted suburban dream that had attempted a few ‘sticks’ of wicker furniture from the local Crate and Barrel but had quickly given up its aspersions to Kmart. Disorder reined everywhere in piles of clothes hung outside the closet as much as in it. The filled ashtray next to the rumpled double bed only rivaled by the unattended cat box visible in the toilet from the passage through the hall. Her name was Betty and she wasted no time dragging off her garments and tossing them like a barrage across the already cluttered landscape of the room. The glow of the lamp overhung by a less than vintage scarf painting the blank whiteness of the skin of her back with a reddish hue as she struggled off her blouse over her head. She was big and lusty with an abundance of flesh crowned with almost thickly coarse brown hair that betrayed a thin line of gray at its root. One by one, her breasts popped out as she pulled upward with her arms to hoist the rumple of clothing over her face. He half reached out to catch the last one as it flopped upon her rib cage. he could se the stretch marks on them extending from the top of her chest stopping short of the dark brown nipples that now seemed as prominent as the tuning knobs of his grandfather’s old black and white TV. Her hair disheveled by the effort she stopped for a moment and reached out to tug on his own shirt. “C’mon soldier, let’s get in character!” “Strip!” His body took the hint an instant before the words fully sank in and he found his own shirt quickly on the floor as he dug his thumbs to hook either side of his underwear and pants to pull them down to shoe level. When he rose back up half way he came eye level with the rough growth of pubic fur that almost sprung from just below her jiggling behind. The sour smell of sweat and the portal to her insides hitting him in the face like a brick. Something inside of him quickly howled at the moon with saliva dripping over sharpened teeth. He grabbed around her and caught a bobbling teat in each hand and pressed hard as he fastened his grip. She moaned a bit as she struggled up hesitantly with him now across her bare back. His pink blood reddened ‘clapper’ ringing against her inner white thighs. “Easy Tiger!“, she cooed and she broke his grip and wheeled around to encircled him with her arms then extend her mouth towards him and struggle her wet tongue against his.
The madness of anger that he kept welled inside sprung out into his his limbs. She pulled him backwards from arms length on top of her. As he fell forward his eyes were transfixed at the fully spread pinkness of her hair trimmed labia. The flash of the hole lurking within same like some malevolent predator waiting for a new victim to entice and then subtend. her laughter rang out as his frame impacted her’s fully. “Don’t worry honey, she’s hungry tonight!“, she lilted between chuckles. He set to work as he squared off to her face to face sometimes smothering in the sloppiness of what served more as a slathering of saliva rich tongues than a kiss. Occasionally eye to eye and they struggled to mount the onslaught of their respective passions he could see that her own internal beast was equally as implacable as his own. The compulsion that drove him like and over revved machine frustrating him demanding more than anything conventional that he could devise in movement and unexpected deviation could provide. Every time he threatened to rise rose up she pulled him back down hard upon her. Her hips like a sponge trying to soak him up. The frustration within him to command the situation mounting to the point of confused frenzy. The grunt and groan of the first orgasm rang out into the claustrophobic sleazy room. He felt a simultaneous sense of panic and rage and pulled away from her. She looked back on him her face in a slow motion transition to a sense of censure and coming disappointment as he unexpectedly jammed the fingers of his right hand knife-like into the maw of her open cunt. Her body convulsed as if hit by a hammer but her animal expression took on an equally unexpected mad anticipation. Half on the edge of his senses he thought he heard her coo, “Yeah baby, go for it!”
His hand had disappeared up to the wrist and her large hips undulated like something plugged into the wall’s electric vibrated. She through her head back uttering a low and constant moan from the band of an unused frequency. He pushed further an found himself up to his elbow as both of her hands slapped down upon his bicep and pulled upon it like a sailor tugging hard upon a hawser. His inclination had bent that his lustful enthusiasm may have violated the confines of her flesh yet she pulled him further within her with an abandon that defied any fear of mortal injury. The thought of ultimate consequence of this sort of play losing ground to both his own compassion to penetrate her further with his limbs and her obvious willingness to accommodate it at all costs. The same impulse powered his other hand to snake along into the tight but mightily slippery fissure to plunge forth along the already fully committed forearm. He seemed amazed to find himself between her legs in a position poised as if he intended to fully dive within her flesh. She continued pulling him while pushing her abdomen further down to the point that both his arms were now deeply enraptured in her sex to the point approaching both his shoulders.
A sudden fearful thought like a bolt of sanity overtook him. There was only two course of action left. To pull out from her and face the resultant medical consequences of their mutual folly or to continue to literally dive further forth unhesitatingly surrendering into her womb! The madness of this thought was like a blinding flash across his consciousness eclipsing thought and reason until an instant later he realized he was now head down and up to his shoulders compliantly inside of the pulsating cavern of her darkness acceding past the boundaries of his madness. She was swallowing him alive like an anaconda inch by inch with his own complicity driving him further forth willingly into her own uncharted recesses. The impossible reality of the situation found him os a few minutes half consumed past his waist. His legs beating like those of a fly in frenzy caught upon a spider’s web as it’s doom approached. The passage of scant minutes more found barely a toe twitch visible in the now restored fissure of her vagina. The impossibly gigantic mass of her engorged form holding within periodically undulating as the form within impotently struggled. Little by little the fight for life of what had once been a person now subsided to the mundanely of just another meal.