Playing games
The unmistakable sobbing cry of orgasm. Tracy scrambled to his feet, and pulled her after him as he ran for the window.
“Tony, Tony, oh my god, Tone-ee…” Alegra’s voice, clear and high.
It couldn’t have been laid out any prettier, Stella thought. Alegra lay back on the bed, Stella’s prized old brass. Tony, standing between her legs, pumped her slowly. They were in profile to the window, and the watchers could catch a glimpse, now and then, of the thick black cock sliding back, glistening, as her paler thighs drew away. Stella shivered at the sheer beauty of them, so very light, so very dark. Alegra’s legs wound around his waist, ankles crossed over his ass.
Tracy’s hands slid down into her beltline. “Get you hot, baby?” he murmured at her back. Her chest moved in time to Tony’s thrusts as she watched.
“Can you do me slow like that?” she whispered to him.
“Piece of cake… Look, look, look.”
Tony reared back. Alegra wailed as she came again, Tony echoing her. Tracy’s hands tightened;
“Can you sing like that, Stella?”
“I could, right now.”
Tony came down over the singing girl, his face as beautiful as Saint Sebastian’s. Stella groped behind her for Tracy’s hard-on.
“Ain’t there someplace out here?” he asked. Half stumbling, she led him to the back of the yard, under the old avocado tree by the fence. He turned to her, glued his mouth to hers as he unbuttoned her jeans and she his. She kicked hers off, pulled his down his hips.
Many a time, gazing idly out the window of her dining room, Stella had thought that the twisted trunk of that tree could offer a hospitable angle for an adventuresome couple. Now, she found that with a little awkward, preliminary, twisting, it was so; Tracy could stand between her legs as she lay back against it and she could slide down onto him– and stopped short. He leaned in, helpfully. Hands against his pectorals, she pushed him away, and, suddenly bloodthirsty, dug her fingernails into his nipples, so that he gasped in surprise.
“No, I don’t think I want to,” she whispered.
Tracy bit his lip, considering this new game. He’d thought it would be sweet, maybe like shepherds and goose-girls, pastoral… Now what? That little ‘make me’ look in her eye, earlier, when he’d surprised her in the shower? A rape in the forest. No…
“Come on, baby,” he offered. “You know you do”
Stella arched her hips higher, and covered her labia with her hands. “No…” she said; “I think I’d rather do it myself…” She ground the heel of her hand into her clitoris, hot, and swollen.
“Oh, no,” Tracy said softly. “No, baby.” –Blackness, webbed with light–
“Beg for it, Tracy Bell,” she moaned, slipping two fingers into her cunt; “Talk to me, Tracy–”
–Oh, lord, she doesn’t know what she’s asking, does she think it’s that easy?– Suddenly Nikki’s voice dinned in his ears. –Do what she says, boy.–
“Baby, let me do you.” He reached out, and watched her body shift away from him, and groaned.
No man, Stella decided, had ever looked so good with his pants down around his knees. With his hands pushed deep into his crotch, he doubled over, his face veiled by his hair.
“Let me do you, girl.” He reached for the branch above him, leapt. Hanging, he kicked off his sneakers and then his jeans. Clad only in his white tank top, he dropped to the ground; “Please, baby, I could do it so good for you.” His eyes on the girl. He sank to a crouch before her, cupping his erection in his hands. –To remind me–
“Yes, that’s right” Stella whispered. Blood thrummed in her ears, his breath tickling her thigh.
“You’re hurting me, Stella,” he said. –Easier now– “Ooh… Have some mercy, I’m begging…” Six inches from his face, she slid her fingers in and out. A part of his brain noted; –She don’t do it like that– Her breath hissing above him as he knelt in the velvety dust, his eyes half-closed, and the words now in full spate.
“Baby, why you wanna do it all alone? Don’t you want me anymore, you got me tied down, baby. Ease my pain, I’m begging you, show me some mercy– Ooh, let me in, bitch, I’ll do anything you want, just tell me what you want-”
On and on, he spoke, his words getting clearer and each one sent a jolt of lightening into her. “Oh, you know nothing can make you come like I can. I’m the only one who really understands your body, I’m the only one that can really fuck you right, baby, you know that. Come on, Stella, you want my cock, you know you do… Ooh… I can’t take it, stop torturing me like this, I’ll go crazy, I swear–”
She looked down, expecting to see his fist moving, or reaching for her, but he was still kneeling, and she made a sound of frustration.
“Please… Baby, it hurts… I’ve got to fuck you, baby, let me in– You bitch, Stella, oh, god–”
She couldn’t take anymore, herself. “Oh, I can’t do it, Tracy help me–’ And he was up from his crouch, his face young and scared, pushing her legs apart. Hands rough on her body. She hung on to the tree trunk to hold them up as he slammed into her, whining, growling.
“That’s right, you bastard,” she said, choking. “Do me like you say you can.” She meant all the songs of the past three years that had set her hopelessly on fire for him. Hearing his double cry of orgasm, she threw back her head, wailing in something like triumph. He came down over her, grabbing at the trunk, squeezing her hard enough to drive the breath away, his hips still rocking, hot breath on her chest.
“Oh, baby.”
“Goddamn, you’re a bitch in heat,” he said at last, and laughed a little, panting hard.
“You get so far into my fantasies,” she said. “I never met a man who’d push me so far.” He looked up, resting his chin on her sternum.
“You,” he said. “You just do it, like it’s so natural.”
“Well, isn’t it?” she said defensively. “Isn’t that what you always sing about? What about yours, you know I’d do anything for you.”
He turned his face away.
“Tracy?” she said with a stab of alarm. “Tracy… What?”
He pushed himself up, head lowered so that all she could see of him was his hair in wild disarray.
“Well…” and he hawked and spit, suddenly, onto her stomach. He raised his head; his grin was a pirate’s, and a dusky blush rose up on his golden skin. Stella was paralyzed with astonishment, and rising hilarity.
“There,” he said unevenly; “I never did that before.”
Stella laughed. It fell out of her in torrents, in tides. She grabbed his hair, and pushed his face into the mess. Helpless with laughter himself, he didn’t resist as she rubbed his face back and forth. At last he pulled his tank up to wipe her dry and clean his own face. He lay back down, hugging her fiercely, shaking with mirth.
“Do you still love me?” he asked, and set her off again.
“I got a woman in Chicago I want you to meet.” he said, a little later. Her hands had gone gentle on his back, making him dreamy. “She’s a stone, motherfucking freak, right down to her toenails. I think you’ll understand each other real well, know what I mean– It’s probably suicidal, but I want to be… locked in a room with you both… I’d, well, um. I want you to use me… Tie me up between you… I’d be a slave to two of the hardest women I’ve ever known.”
Her response was immediate; He felt her cunt convulse around his cock, still deep in her. –Lie detector– He bit his lip.
“You really dig that idea, don’t you? Are all your fantasies about raping men?”
“No, not at all!” she said, but her thoughts were still of the sudden vision she’d just had, of Tracy chained on his knees, hot-eyed and gagged, and she couldn’t think of anything else at all, at that moment.
“I guess a lot of them are,” she said, reluctantly.
“Why? Do you subconsciously hate men, or something?” he wanted to know.
“No… Maybe it’s the only thing I can’t actually do? Or maybe it’s penis envy?” She shoved at him; the tree was beginning to dig into her back. “Get your penis out of my hole and let me up!”
“Ooh, look,” he said luxuriously, pulling on his jeans. She could feel their mingled juices, running down her legs. “Here–” He held her arm to help her squat on his denim-clad thigh, rubbing it back and forth against her crotch. Pushing the slime into the material with his thumb, he grinned; “Maybe never wash these pants again… Maybe I’ll have to burn ‘em, before they start walking by themselves, what do you think?”
“Yeah?” she said. “Maybe I’ll tattoo my belly; ‘Tracy Bell spit here–” and reached to stop him before he buttoned his fly; “Wait, baby.” She pulled his jeans back and got comfortable on her knees, licking him clean of the sweet and salty cream, his balls, pulling back his foreskin, sucking at his pubic hair, until his groin was wet and the curls springy with moisture. She hugged him tight at the hips, resting her cheek against the hollow of his groin.
He stroked her hair, pulled her to her feet, wrapped her in his arms. She ducked her head onto his shoulder, taller though she was, and he gazed over her head at the old white stucco covering back of her house. His mind was whirling.
She had said they were alike. She said that she thought she had read him, through the filter of his music. What you do, you make your statement, hope the right people read the code. Who knows how many miss the message? Not many do get it. Seems like this was one of the right people. So many, they turn out to be just fans, which is cool, of course, but not your heart’s desire, and sometimes they think you’re their heart’s desire, but they don’t know you at all. –A rape in the forest, right. I’m the one got raped– A stunning thought. –Tracy’s met his match.–
“Lord,” he said aloud, released her, looked around for her panties. He watched her step into her jeans. Her hair swung forward, her mouth had that sweet, bruised, after-fuck look. “Lord, you’re making me happy, girl,” he said, and she looked up in pleased surprise.
“Were you joking about penis envy?” he said as they stepped back to the grass.
“Of course I was,” Stella said. “I get all the penis I could want.”
He shook his head; “No, you don’t,” he said, “You want your own cock, I bet. You’d stick it into any hole that would open for you.”
“Yeah,” she said mildly. “I wanna fuck the whole world, so what?”
“So I know how you can…” They settled on the lawn and he lay his head in her lap, squinting against the sun. “Will you do anything for me, really? Like you said?”
She whispered; “Yes, Tracy.”
“I want,” he said. “I want you to stop modeling. I know you’re good at it, and all, but you ain’t making the big time, are you?”
“I’m doing okay” Stella said, defensively.
“See, I want you to become a painter…” She said nothing. He went on; “I saw the stuff inside. I don’t know much about painting pictures and stuff, but I know how to make money at it, and how to get famous, and that’s what I want you to do–”
“Uh-huh,” she said derisively. “Like Prince? One of those pretty-girl proteges that all the big rock stars carry around with them?”
“Well, are you any good?” he demanded. “Do you believe in yourself? Cause I can help you with the money to go to school, if that’s what’s missing.”
“Well. I mean, I don’t know–” She was in a near panic; “I’m not driven enough, I’m not a near genius like you are– I’m just an oversexed bitch with some looks and a little talent… I don’t know how long I can keep up with you, before you get bored with me…” She thought for a minute. “I hope,” she said; “That I even get a chance to get tired of your dick, because…” She blinked away angry tears; “I ought to know better, and you keep talking this bullshit, and I want to believe you so bad, and this is really only a one-night stand for you and I know it–”
“Stella, just shut up–”
“And I let you call me some new name… My name is Karen.” She covered her eyes with one hand.
Tracy sat up and swung around to face her. “Listen, ain’t you going to San Francisco with me? So, that’s one week, and we can… throw our worst at each other or something… I wish you could trust me… Trust yourself, maybe… I don’t know either” he went on, plaintively. “I like saying ‘I love you’, it’s sweet to say it, ain’t it? Only, um… I keep on… Saying things to you… And they turn out to be true…” His voice trailed away. “I wish you could trust me,” he said again. “And, you know, I ain’t such a genius as all that, anyways… I’d hate to get fucked over, too. Just, somehow, I know you already. I know what you have to do.”
“I’ve known you for three years,” she said. “I bet there’s a million of me, out there. I can recite every word to every song you’ve recorded, so what. You only met me last night. I’m just another fuck to you, maybe better than usual, I hope so, but… There’s a difference between love and sex. I mean, there is for me. I’m about sex, Tracy, I trust it, I get what I want out of a great fuck, and I know a lot of women don’t think the same way, but I don’t need to get drunk first and I don’t need to hear about love–”
“Good speech,” he interrupted her. “You sound like you know it by heart, baby. How often do you say it?”
“I say it a lot!” she said stridently, and pulled away from his reaching hand. “I’m a freak, okay?” she insisted. “I’m not a one-man woman, so… I can’t take your money for what we do. I make the choice, every time, and I won’t give that up.”
“Well, all right, and nobody’s asking you to, lord!” Since she wouldn’t come to him, he went to her, folded her into his arms, wrestled with her angry spine until it softened a little. “Come on, baby, come on… You wanna hear a story? Listen, I met this woman once, she’s a writer. She’s in her fifties, now.” He settled cross-legged, hugging her, and chuckled. “I was, like nineteen, when we were just getting started… We finished a set in this little club, and she just snapped her fingers at me, and I was so scared… I knew if I couldn’t please her I would just have to kill myself. I mean, this dame was forty-five. More’n twenty-five years older than me, and she was one of the finest… And she took me home, and I stayed with her for the weekend. I sweated out about ten pounds. And she said; ‘You’re a good boy, Tracy Bell, now go and make something out of yourself’ and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since, ain’t that a good story?”
Stella relented. “Touching… Did that really happen?” She was fighting the lump in her throat. “That’s a fantasy right there.”
“I want you to paint portraits, how long will you have to go to school to learn that?”
“Why portraits?”
“Because, you can rape anyone you paint, don’t you get it? Some hotshot lawyer comes to have his portrait done for the firm, and when you’re done– there’s this little boy inside him, looking out his eyes. Or a debutante in her thousand– dollar dress, and you show the randy little barefoot bitch she really should be… You see inside people, you know that. If you could put it down, what you see, you could be so fearsome… Twenty years from now, you’ll snap your fingers at some boy, and he’ll change his life, to please you.”
Destiny. She felt cold chills, listening to him. Power coming to her hands, a reason to paint again. “Where did you get this idea?”
He grinned. “You know the picture on your mantelpiece?”
“The running cat.”
“Yeah, well, I turned it over.”
Stella laughed, ruefully. There was a drawing of his face on the back of that board. It was taken from his first album cover, she’d changed the expression a little, and it was the real reason the board was out at all. The cat was merely camouflage…
“That’s ‘Subway’,” she told him. “When you’re saying; ‘Bitch, who do you think you are’”
“If you let me get next to you you’d find out/ What your girlfriend’s warning was all about,” he finished the line. “I look so… lost… in your picture.”
“I figured you never caught her, did you… in reality. She got away… You got off the train by yourself and I’ll bet you were so pissed off you were about crying by the time you got home.”
“Damn.” He slid her down into his lap, hunched over her, looking down into her face. “And then what?”
“Well, I think you went inside… It was dark, like the song says; ‘We didn’t turn on any light’ except you were all alone, empty… I always see you standing there and you know how you can jack off sometimes, just angry, and it doesn’t feel like anything, and you just feel worse… And you finally turned the lights on and wrote the song, and worked out that beautiful ending. But I bet it still bothers you, if you get to thinking about it.”
Tracy laughed at the sky, and hid his face. “Oh, girl. How you know?”
“I love that song, Tracy,” she told him earnestly. “I’d be laying in the dark, with my fingers in my pussy, thinking if I was that girl… I’d be so scared of you, and I’d have come right across and made a grab for you– I bet you’re a great lay when you’re that mad.”
“Too much,” he said through his hands.
“Want some ice cream?” Stella got up. At the door, her vision of him in chains returned. “Tracy, am I really one of the hardest women you’ve ever known?”
“Well… I must have met someone harder… Somewhere…”
“Well, look, Trace,” she said; “We don’t have to do it like this every time, do we? I mean, we’re gonna kill each other.”
Tracy surveyed her face for a full minute. “So?’ he said at last. “I ain’t afraid to die early. You ain’t gonna quit, are you? ‘Fraid you can’t hang?” He cackled, and dodged the slap she aimed at him, grabbed her wrists and forced them behind her back. “Ooh” he told her. “I love your ass.”
“You can have it for keeps,” she returned.
“Dedicate it to me. From now on, anyone goes down on you, they’ll be kissing Tracy Bell’s ass.”
