On Reflection

I'm often tripped,
because I saw worlds where
there were just puddles.

Expect Me (explicit)

It's an unfamiliar door. I stare at it, feeling my heart racing in my chest, high off of anticipation and fear. I'm incredibly aware of the heat and damp under my skirt, and I nearly chicken out.
A deep breath.
I open the unfamiliar door, and step into the darkness inside. The odd stale scent of a motel wraps around me, and the door closes softly behind me, startling me.
All I see are shadows, but I catch the scent of clean fabric as he steps up behind me. His hands slide across my body, possessive and bold,
Undress, he tells me, a casual order, firm and friendly. His hands continue to explore as I pull off my clothes. They are far more familiar than a stranger's should be, and yet they delve and probe and pinch and stroke. He's hard, he lets me feel it through his pants. He turns me around, gripping my hair and holding my head back as he licks and bites. I'm whimpering with need and fear.
He spins me back around, and a stinging slap on my ass startles me forward. A hand on my back guides me to the bed, and he pushes me face first onto the bed. He takes his cock out, and teases me with it, rubbing it on my asshole and around my clit, telling me all the ways he's going to fuck me just as soon as I ask nicely.
That unknown man, that faceless man, that sadistic man. He makes me beg for him to fuck my pussy, beg him to fuck my face, beg him to fuck my ass. He teases me, torments me, taking his time putting on a condom, making sure all of the holes he's going to fuck are nice and slick and ready.
I'm nearly in tears.
And then he does it. Every way he said he would, and more. I'm his fucktoy, his plaything. My heart and breath ache with the need to please him. He tells me to wait to cum until he says, wait... wait... don't you dare... He thrusts harder.
My orgasm begins to crest, and I moan. Instantly, he's pulled out and spun me around. He slaps my face, hard, and pinned me with my knees splayed. I can feel it rumble in his chest when anticipation makes him laugh to himself.
I feel cool air on my cunt, and then it explodes with pain. He slaps my crotch again, over and over, fingers twisting and flicking and pinching with each impact. My abused clit is swollen and tender. My throat is raw from screaming, and I'm trembling as his grip finally relaxes. His touch on my labia is tender and soothing, and his face dips down towards it.
His tongue is cool and smooth, and his breath flashes hot and cold across my pussy. His hands clasp mine, thumbs massaging my palms. Come for me? he murmurs, as his tongue dips and probes. His voice sounds wistful, almost innocent. The unexpected tenderness brings me to an orgasm so sweet and pure... I feel filled with light.
He rises above me, sliding into me so naturally that the climax never has a chance to fade. I'm weeping with the beauty of it. Look at me, he demands, a firm grip at the base of my skull holding me still. His eyes, barely visible in the shadows, hold me captive.
His rhythm grows steadily swifter and more insistent. My eyes are locked to his, and his cock feels impossibly hard. You fucking slut, he groans, you glorious fucking slut. His fingers burrow into my hair, grip hard, and he's slamming himself into my bruised cunt, growling and groaning. I thrust back with equal force, the pain and pleasure combined shattering me into a thousand pieces. A roar erupts from his lungs. The force of his orgasm erupts from his eyes like lightening, flashing its path through my eyes and brain straight down to my womb, and my shriek seems to echo through the room for an eon.
I feel as though I'm floating, and I hear him distantly murmuring as his hand gently cups my face. The coolness of the washcloth as he tends to my bruising is blissful, and I drift off to a dreamless sleep.
He is gone when I wake, that beautiful, unseen man. A cup of hot coffee is beside the bed with a card propped against it. The words freeze my breath.
Two small words.
"Expect me."

Here There Be Dragons

Here There Be Dragons

In the consciousness of a new antiquity,
my dreaming mind drowses
lulled by the hum of ancient machines.
Drifting through steel corridors
the memory of extinct sentience
pulses in sync with my heart.
That we all end,
this is true,
but we had an arrogant assurance
that somewhere, somehow,

 another that is not Other
carries on our line.
Even to the last,

fierce grief battles merciless hope
driving each other round and round
refusing the solace of apathy.
Wandering metal mazes
decorated with newly-dead language
that I am the last to speak aloud...

I leave a final warning,
hoping against hope that another can read it:

Ware! here there be Dragons!

Switch

Switch

 Ichi...

I trembled, my breath whispering
Past sensitive lips.
Fear and desire blazed from my eyes
Into hers.
My emotions were written across my face
Like graffiti on a bridge.
And though I was fully clothed I knew
I had been laid bare.

 Ni...

She toyed with the cat o’ nine,
Taunting my passion.
Its slapping slithering sounds sent
Anticipatory shivers shimmering up my spine…
I opened my mouth to speak, to beg,
To demand, but
She covered it with hers and when her lips withdrew
They drew my voice with them.

 San...

She leaned against the doorpost, her bottom thrust out
Gasping as I took revenge-
She never gave me the lashes I’d craved.
Her voice was breathy
As she counted my cruelty in Japanese
Trembling again,
I soothed the area I’d struck with my hand,
My palm stinging in sympathy.

Shi...

I never went easy on her.
I hope she never does with me.

Eden

In the time of Eden, there were baobab

trees and stinking ginko.

 They were tended by behemoths

 and trampled beneath the feet of rats.

Then,WE came climbing,

 with our nimble fingers and gnawing with our nimble teeth,

 until the world was a hungry, gaping mouth.

And WE are falling into it,

with our nimble fingers and our nimble teeth,

 and strangle the mouth of the world.

Slow Burn

  Love, I don't know if you'll ever see this. I'm sitting in the waiting room of Sacred Heart. It's very crowded in here, but it's quiet. In the movies the panic has this noise, like a high whine under all of the chaos of beeping machines and people clamoring for help. There aren't enough machines here for the beeping to be heard out here. There aren't even enough rooms. Every now and then, they come and strap someone into a gurney and wheel them away. Nobody is clamoring. You hear a moan on occasion, or a voice raised in delirium, but I think we all know what we're waiting for here. Even the children are silent.
  I'm sorry I left you with no note. I finally put the pieces together. You'd think a B-movie aficionado like myself would have realized ages ago what was going on, but I didn't. How could I? How could anyone? Except, I think that on some level we knew. You were too insistent that this was just a flu, even after my nailbeds began to blacken. We painted my nails, remember? We didn't want to see it, so we painted them bright red.
  I think I was one of the first to be infected. I had biked too far, and wore myself out. So, I took the bus back home. It was that little kid. The one with the crusty brown crap flowing from his nose. He leaned over, and took my hand. I laughed, thinking he was just unusually friendly, and then he bit my finger. I snatched my hand away, and his tooth came with it. He didn't cry. He just reached for me again. I got off at the next stop.
  The bite wasn't bad. My pinky finger had this tiny mark where the kid's tooth had sunk in. There wasn't even any blood, just a bit of lymph like you get with any really shallow cut. I washed it in the Walgreen's restroom.
  It healed up like any cut does. There wasn't any infection, or anything dramatic like that. Not long after, though, my finger started to tingle. A week later, my whole hand had pins and needles. I thought that kid had given me tetanus or something, and went to the doctor. He said I'd been sleeping wrong, and gave me exercises that didn't help. It wasn't until after the pain had spread to my other hand and my feet that the news reports started coming in about the Frisco Flu.
 We know it's not a flu now, right? Flu viruses have a survival rate. The flu doesn't get into your nervous system. It doesn't burrow into your brain like a prion, make you bleed like ebola. It doesn't give you compulsions. It doesn't make your corpse get up and walk again.  
  It's weird to see what people obsess over at the last stage. An old woman is knitting furiously. Another guy is constantly updating his facebook. A little girl is slowly devouring her teddy bear. The talking heads claim the compulsions have to do with what we value most. I'm just glad there's no sex addicts in here, you know? Dying is awkward enough without that.
  It's been six months since I was bitten. That shallow little cut was all it took. The nurse who took my vitals called it a "slow burn." She said it was unusual. She said it was a good thing I came in. She didn't say I'd ever be released.
 There's a guard at the door. A lady is trying to get out. She's got one of those stupid surgical masks on. I'm fine! she says I'm fine! and the nurse shakes her head. You can see the blood staining through her mask. I don't think she's realized she hasn't got control of her bowels anymore. She breaks past the guard, and he follows her out. We hear  POP! POP!
  The guard looks like he's about to cry when he comes back in. I wonder if he knows what kind of mercy he gave her?
  I'm pretty far gone, my love. I'm no longer bleeding. I can't feel anything but this howling sort of emptiness. I can barely remember who I am. I remember you, though. I remember your eyes, and your smile. I remember the way I felt when I first told you I loved you, and I remember the whoosh! of relief and joy when you said you loved me, too.
  It's my turn on the gurney. They say they'll give this to you, so you won't always wonder. I love you. I'll always love you.

Selene

She cries to me in the morning
As the sun lights up her hair.
Her eyes are puffy
And weary- wild.
I want to cry, too, with softly choking sobs
For our losses.
For our dreams
I hold her as her tears run down my neck.
We're stronger together,
But I wonder.
Sometimes even God isn't strong enough.