Another Crime

The night rapaciously discovered him, the moon disguising his leather jacket with demarcating shimmering, he ushered himself through the alleys of wet subdued rotting perfumes, everything had been eaten already, everything had been used up, he kept his hands in his pockets, deprived from touching anything, ulcers harboring notions of greatness held a stomach convention. He paused at the end of the road, a huge brick wall rose before him, security wired mesh everywhere violated, he was outside of any prison of convention, outside of any tributary custom; his eyes looked up, there was a red light coming from a vagrant window, he ascended the slippery fire escape. Occasionally sensing unhinging statements from creaking metal, the rain long subsided, the night persistent, the rusted door offered an escape.

He pulled the handle exerting force with his thumb but the handle refused to augment accessibility, a door resisting, then a bell became obvious, he pushed it, the sound was a harsh dull bell, it clung, clung to ear drum, the door was partially released through some unlocking machination of mechanic wrenching, he helped himself in, a set of cement stairs waited further ascension, up, up, he went.

At the top of the stairs lacking all coziness a mostly empty room welcomed him, a woman entered his presence, she was well oiled in liquor and rivaled any sanctity of horrors, her face was a mask long worn and pressed into her flesh, rivets of makeup helped to obfuscate complete cruelty towards any observer, but her character trounced the success of any gentleness. “Here you must keep track of your insanity.” And so she smiled with her eyes tossing themselves into a howdy air. “What do you mean?” Said the stranger, his eyes searching the corners blathering rounded darkness. “We aim to please your perversions Mister, careful here then, we aim to harvest them, and suckle their muted nature, we thrive financially on that.”

He hadn’t expected to end up here tonight, he went for a walk to lose himself, but the dead ends kept an unwanted true north. “Falsify your want all you want, we’ll keep it alive here for you.” She lurched towards him bouncing her hands on his shoulders, her reddish curly hair anointing him her territory. “We can go in my room,” She began to undo his belt, she pulled him closer grabbing his crotch, “in my room your jewels my lips will tender,” she pulled him her way, “oh drop that face of confused doom, you’re not here by accident, hard to climb all those stairs and follow all the loose scents without raw intent.” He mutters. “I think I better go.”

With these words another came in the room, she was a tall lusty husky beauty, dressed in a black coat that was revealing ruby lingerie uncovering a figure that was busting out oozing creamy dreams, her lipstick well placed, her makeup could have used a touch up, her long black hair complimented her satin black flesh, her eyes large a robustly embracing everything man around her, “I think he is here for me Camille, why don’t you let him be, I am willing to take care of this one and pay for it with my pleasure.” The hag took immediate insult and pushed her bound lover towards the wall, and arch her hands behind him to protect him from the leaching Diva thoughts. “I bare him my all, therefore he is well take care off, mind your hunting someplace else.”

But he was not so sure, he kept his eyes on Diva, her real name, he kept on staring, her amazing flush of straightened black hair, oiled mystic her flesh crawled within him, confusing the old hag with his erection, “I think I better go.” “Go, but go where to her, Diva is an usurper of men, she will suck you dry of your manhood, she doesn’t want to offer you her womanhood, she is creepy beast, her breast poison milk, her cunt a trap, a rabbit trap.” She pressed herself further into him, he pushed her off, she fell onto the concrete floor.” He was startled and expected her to get up but she just lay there, her eyes spitting sapphires, her dress all over hiding her intent. Diva came up to him, she placed her long hands on his neck, embraced him while her fully ripened lips kissed him and buried his breath in her. He felt all the oily scents perfume him into disrepair, he felt her waist, she opened her breast unto him, gorgeous sumptuousness, her nipples brazenly alive, peeking into the thick air, his hands caressing and saucing sentiment from them, her face in ecstasy, his breathing hers, her eyes unto his, talking sermons of illusions, without being within her, flushed creaming into her palms, his fingers in her lips, soaking libertine entrances, she pushing herself more into his hands, thrusting spasms quivering both, her hand to her lips, his lips to her breathing breast, tasting the salt of their sin.

“There he is, Coyle, there he is.” Camille’s fiery fingers pointing and startling the two lovers, he pushed me so,” she pushed a barrel that rushed to brake against a wall, “he pushed me so, ha, but now Coyle is going to show you that you don’t push a lady around, show him Coyle!” Coyle was a tall fat boy of plenty mass but few muscle protrusions, still an overwhelming fellow against an unthinking and inhibited man, a man that would measure his punch, against the bully Coyle.

The trouncing lovers separate, Coyle reaches for hand to hand combat, we now realize that he is capable of grunt uttering but not of common speech, a fist sort of lands on the face, sort of lands on the stomach, but lover escapes towards the door, he dashes through the wet stairs, his body partially covered by his undone clothing, he is now on adrenalin, mounting invisible horses, escaping over genuine obstacles, his lust crushed ashes, he is escaping from the fire.

A whistle blows, another whistle blows, a third whistle blows, a chase chain has been fused, three men in pursuit of one that got too close to his perversions, he manages to climb a roof, he makes it through to another, the three chasing bullies on him, one calls out, “you fuck with our women you have to pay asshole!” The escapee ponders for a second, “pay, is it about money,” he has none in his pocket, he quickly concludes this exasperatingly defined into a corner. “We are going to bruise your skull Mr.” Another utters, obviously not fat boy, “you touched Diva, you touched her, you’re not suppose to touch Diva, he touched Diva!” a fist went up in the air.

Our pervert is cornered, the fists start rolling through his face, never quenched, a brick wall lends the bullies moral support, blood splutters happening color damped by his expression, his vertebrate refuses to compliment the erectness of the stiff wall, “you’re a dead man, you’re a dead man.” One pokes his finger though his skull, the limp body held tightly to its earth mother, the lungs collapsed under the red inundation, silence.

Fat boy pulls the leather jacket off, tries it on, “doesn’t fit me.” Throws it to his buddy, “hey thanks man fits me perfectly,” kicking a dead body, “you fuck Diva you gotta pay.”