Horizontal Lives

True Tales of the Infamous Courtesan: Persephone N. Hades and her Horizontal Life underground. How she got there, her mis-adventures and her struggle to re-surface.

Friday, November 05, 2004

Killed by the Alpha Armadillo Stud Roach


We are in the middle of a sexy moment, my client and I.
I am reclining on my sofa, the back of my head relaxed on the armrest. He is above me, his face close to mine but the opposite way. Our heads are ‘69’ to one another’s. I am in my bra and panties. Within his boxers, he is building a tall, proud tent. Norah Jones is serenading us. Hundreds of candles flicker, reflected in the glass of the champagne flutes. I had just asked him if he missed me. He just finished saying, ‘Oh you don’t know how many times I masturbated to the things we did last time." "Hmmm. I think I should get residuals for that, don’t you?" We were mid-laugh when I saw it.

Crawling slowly across the ceiling, directly above our heads, is an enormous roach. Not a normal New York City roach, not a Florida-size Palmetto, but a roach that had to be as big as my fist. A roach with antlers for antenae. A roach so tremendous, it looked like the direct descendant of an armadillo.

Should I ignore it and just quickly get us out of the living room? What if it falls on our heads? What if I lose sight of it? What if it makes it’s way into the bedroom? Before I can decide, he notices my eyes, following their gaze upward.

"Woe!" We both hop up, smashing into each other.
"Watch him! Watch him! Don’t take your eyes off him! I’ll get the Raid." I run to the kitchen to find the illusive can.
"Where is he?"
"Still there." He points.
"Oh my god!"
"I know!"
We are laughing hard despite our being terrorized by this gargantuan bug.
"Spray it! " I order through my giggles.
"You spray him!"
"No no! I can’t! You’re the man."
"What does that have to do with it? You spray him."
"You think it’s a him?"
"I do."
"Can you imagine, if he’s this big, how big his dick must be?"
"Huge!"
"Enormous!"
"Spray him!!"
"He’s probably the stud roach in this building. All the females will hate us. They may attack in retaliation. We killed the Stud Roach with the enormous schlong."
"Spray him!"
"Okay. Okay. Here goes."
I aim the nozzle upward and press. The poison shoots high and hits. The armadillo roach stud falls. We both scream and jump. The monster runs. We are in hot pursuit, dousing him, drowning him. I empty the entire contents of the can. We are holding our breath against the odor.

Finally, the colossus falters, tips and falls, lying still on his back in a puddle of white, putrid liquid. We are breathing hard, watching him intently. One of his giant, monster legs reaches to the sky in a last dramatic moment before death.

Or so we think.

"Is he dead?"
"I think so."
"Oh my god."
"I know."
"Yuck."
"Get a paper towel. We’ll flush him."
"Okay. Don’t take your eyes off him."
"He’s dead."
"Just keep watch."
In the kitchen I am searching for paper towels, and in mid-realization that I am out, I hear: "Fuck!"
"What?’
"Grab something—anything! He’s on the move!"
I run in with a Tupperware. My mouth is open in disbelief. The mongrel is moving.
"He was faking us out!"
"It’s like a bad horror flick."
"Here. Here. Here!" I shove the container into my client’s hands. He caps it over the roach and we stare, as if the power of our gaze will render our captive immobile. There is no movement. We sigh.

"Now what?" my client asks.
"He’s not going anywhere. We’ll get him later." I wrap my arms around his neck. "Come here and kiss me."
"You’ve got to be kidding."
"You lost your tent."
"Well,yeah."
"Let’s go try and pitch another one." I pull him toward the bedroom, leaving the jailed roach in the living room.
"I think it’s over for today."
"No. C’mon. Your adrenaline is pumping. Let’s pretend we were on a hunting expedition and we bagged some terrifying wild prey."
"We did."
"We did. I know."
"I think my boy has retreated though."
"Let me talk to him. He likes me."
"That he does."
I get on my knees and gently remove his cock. "See? It was just a battle of the Alpha males. Now you’re the only big cock left in the house." I run my cheek against the soft skin on his shaft. I look up at him, my eyes finding his.

"You look beautiful." He whispers.
"Proximity."
"No. You look beautiful."
"Do I look beautiful from here?" I say, standing up face-to-face with him.
"Yes…" His tongue finds mine.
"How about here?" I say, kissing his neck.
"Um, yes…"
"And from here?" I look up at him as my lips take each of his ribs like steps downward.
"Oh, yes."
"Here?" I am at his navel.
"Oh god yes."
"And now?" My mouth is on his pubic bone just above his penis.
"Gorgeous."
I take his cock slowly into my mouth, undulating my tongue up his thickening vein. I inch back gently, revealing a much harder member than before.
"And now?"
"So so gorgeous."
"See? Here was 'gorgeous'." I point to his pubic bone. "But here," I touch his cock, "is so SO gorgeous. See? Proximity."
I smile up at him.
"Come here you crazy girl."

Newly revived, past adventure forgotten, he lifts me up onto the bed. His hands find my breasts. My hands roll over his cock. Our eyes are closed. We are losing ourselves in the moment, when we hear it:

The scraping sound of Tupperware being dragged across a hardwood floor.

He sits up. "I can’t believe it."
"It isn’t."

From the bed, we look through the doorway toward the living room, just in time to see the Tupperware dome moving past the threshold.

"Oh Yikes!" I scream, leaping up to stand on the mattress.
"That’s all folks." My client says, hopping off the bed.
"It’s like Godzilla under there."
Together, we manage to slide a piece of cardboard under the Tupperware and run it to the bathroom.

"When I say ‘go’," he orders, "you flush. Timing is everything. Ready?"
I nod. He’s the boss of the bug.
"Go!"
I flush. He turns the Tupperware upside down and pulls away the cardboard. The fighting monster splats into the swirling vortex, paddling furiously all the way down the drain.

We are frozen. Neither of us move nor take our eyes from the toilet. This roach has gumption. We know that now. We wait. The water returns sans roach. We exhale at the same time.

"Flush again," he says finally.
I do.
We stare.
No roach.
"Once more for good measure."
I flush.
We stare.
No roach.
We walk back to the bedroom. He is collecting his clothes, slipping one leg in his trousers.

"Well beautiful," he says, "I think our time has expired."
I pout. He’s right. But I pout anyway.
"Are you the time-keeper now?"
He gives me a twisted smile.
"Stay a few more minutes. We can be fast."
"I don’t think I could—too much excitement in the wrong places."
"I can’t ask you to pay me for today."
"Time is time." He takes out his wallet. He is a Prince among men.
"Thank you. I’m so sorry."
"Not your fault."
"But I feel so bad. Here you came over for a relaxing break, to be fondled and cuddled and seduced and what do you get? A jousting match with a big fat roach. I’m sorry."
He sits on the couch to put his shoes on and suddenly bursts with laughter.
"What?" I put my arms around his shoulders.
"With you, it’s always an experience."
Bless him for having a sense of the absurd.
"Oh god. I’m so so sorry." I pepper his neck with tiny kisses. "Will you ever come back again or is this it?"
"Come here." He pulls me onto his lap. "I came here for an experience and I got one."

I look down and fiddle with his tip of his tie. I have the sinking feeling this is it—I will never see him again. We’ve been terrified, embarrassed—we’ve been ‘real’ together. There is nothing like a big, fat roach-y dose of reality to kill fantasy forever.

"When I’m old and laying there in a home," he says, "and think back on all the memories that made up my life, when I think of this one, I’m gonna scare the nurses cause I’m gonna sit up in my bed and howl with laughter."
He’s being so sweet. But I know what will happen.
"I owe you another time." I say, trying to salvage the situation. "Gratis okay?"

He stands, kisses the top of my head and walks to the door.
"Hey." I call to him. "Bye." I blow him a knowing kiss.
He catches the kiss and pretends to put it in his pocket.

"In all seriousness?" he says.
"Yes?"
"You really should find a way to collect residuals."

1 Comments:

At 11:33 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's a terrific story, but I think you meant to say "the elusive can," not "the illusive can." Unless the can was imaginary.

Oh yes, I'm just a nit-picking nerd. Also a recent client. Won't tell you which one, but maybe you can guess.

Love the blog, misused words and all.

 

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