Inspired by Gene Summers 1959 dark rock ’n’ roll hit Taboo
“And she cries in her spirit
Now I am the devil
Forever man will atone”
EROTIC HORROR
This is it for me now. This is all I’ll ever have and all I’ll ever know. A few square feet. Neon light. What got me here was a fantasy that family, friends, and strangers created around me, to get rid of me, as revenge for something I don’t understand. Whatever else you’ve heard, read, gossiped about, it won’t be true. The real story is this…
She had green eyes, deep black hair, purple lipstick, my favourite kind of figure and size 12 shoes. Size 12 shoes in her hand that is, that she was handing back to me at the end of my night out with the boys bowling. She didn’t smile then, or when I’d said hi at the start of the night, so I was surprised when she made conversation. “Are you guys staying around for a drink?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m sure we will. We always do.”
“I’m finished in a minute; we’re closing up here; I’ll join you.”
She didn’t ask. She didn’t look like the woman who ever had to ask those kinds of questions. Which seemed fair enough, the answer was never going to be no, was it.
Only the bar area was still fully lit now, the lanes closed down. Me and my three friends sat around a small table and I hadn’t thought to get a spare one. Hadn’t really expected her. So when she came over in a swagger of Doc Martin boots and brush cotton clinging black dress, there was nowhere for her to sit, so she went straight for my lap. And she didn’t move for the next hour. Normally, I didn’t like this kind of thing; my legs just go numb rather than it being exciting. I never let my wife do that for very long, or when girls flirted back in college. But this time. It felt like she fitted me, and at no moment was her weight anything but a magical pleasure.
I know I should have at least felt some guilt as we laughed together, or winked over her shoulder at me as she slipped into a new position that made me gasp. She even sat playing with my wedding ring for a long while, before taking it off and trying it on. But I didn’t feel guilt or worry about any of it. No guilt because she’d got me so high I couldn’t see the floor no more. And my friends were never going to snitch. Gary had a regular mistress himself, Jez got caught last Fall with an old sweetheart, and Dekon spends so much time chatting to women online that I’m surprised he has time to come out with us. No time for his girlfriend, that’s for sure. I looked around the table and could see I was the only one happily married. Maybe not after tonight, though, I thought. Not happily anything anymore, as it turned out. But she made it feel all worth it…
As the bar area closed up and we got ready to go, her body leaving mine made me feel naked and cold. I could only think about how to get that closeness back again. Any way I could. She followed us out and kissed the other three goodbyes. They were high from her company too and all smiled beams at me like I’d just got married or been voted president or won the lottery. It felt like the lottery. I still expected her to leave for her car then, but instead, she said, “My damn boss was supposed to give me a lift home tonight. My cars in the garage. But earlier, before you all arrived, he told me what it would cost to get a lift. I don’t mean money, you know. He’s a real bastard. Touches me, and the other girls. No one wants to be alone with him; no one wants to wait late alone with him. That’s why there’s a barman. No girl lasts when she’s last out, but I had no choice. I hate him. We all do. He’s handsome, too, so that makes him worse; cocky cunt, but such an ugly soul. Sorry. I’ll quit my moaning, I mean to say, can I get a lift? I’d walk the two miles but shit this roads quiet at night. And the back way! No one goes the backway, even in broad daylight. Know what I mean.”
Again, it was pretty pointless asking. No man would ever say no. Some might say I should have said no. But they don’t know anything.
I was ready to pull out of the car park; there didn’t seem to be any probable action now; she’d stopped flirting for a moment. Maybe I’d make it out with my marriage alive after all. Then she squealed, “There he is! The cunt! There he is! See him walking across? Scare him. Please. Please give him a scare. Run your car right up to him and break last minute. He deserves that, at least!” I signal at crossings when no one’s there, I never break the speed limit, and I use all my mirrors. She was asking a lot of me. But when she leaned in and put her hand on my accelerator knee, it went down, and I was away. I’d do whatever it took to keep her hands on me.
Her boss turned to us, to the sound of a speeding car. He froze and I was enjoying the thrill of his startled face. I decided I’d turn away at the last minute, slow down, and swerve. She gripped my knee harder, then forced it down, making it impossible to swerve. The car smashed into his body as I was still speeding up. He crunched between the side of his car and my bonnet. His top half folded over to splat down the windscreen. His face still alive and stupidly surprised, only a few inches away from mine.
Now, she let me slam on the breaks. She was panting like she’d won a race. I was gripping the steering wheel as if to let go would mean I’d drown.
“We’d better get out of here,” she said.
“But we need to see if he’s ok,” I managed.
“He’ll be dead for sure, and the CCTV just watched you go for him. No turning back now.”
She was right on all accounts. So, I tried not to think about what I was turning my back on. Everything in my life evaporated for the feel of her hand on my knee. I knew it was worth it.
I reversed away from the body that slipped off the bonnet, leaving behind a red and grey trail. I went towards the highway, but she stopped me and pointed to a side road. “Your car is a mess; by morning, you’re bound to be stopped with that shit on it,” she waved at the grease lines left by my windscreen wipers. It wasn’t coming off completely there and it for sure hadn’t come off the rest of the car.
Far from anywhere, with trees on all sides, we parked up and went to inspect the gore. To clean it off, I thought. She clung to me as if it scared her. I put my arm around her. She turned and kissed me with a passion I mistook for thanking me for holding her, but moments later, she was stripping off. This was lust, not gratefulness. She unbuttoned me enough to make it possible but didn’t give me a chance to take any more off before lying back on the bloody bonnet and pulling me inside her. I’d never felt intensity or connection like it, even with my feet struggling to get traction on the ground to hold myself in position. She rolled her hair and head in the debris of her old boss and instead of feeling sick, it excited me.
We drove all the night East, along highways I’d not needed to bother with forever. My life had taken me nowhere for years except to work, a bar, the kid's baseball field, and their school. Holidays were West to the beach. The same beach every year. I could even drive that stretch in my sleep. I didn’t do anything unusual.
As the morning took hold I was still driving. She was asleep, her head in my lap. I stroked it in the dim light, noticing streaks of red. For a moment I repulsed at what it must be, blood from the bonnet. A moment later, I realised, it was just dyed strands of her hair. Only a few, but long and vivid. They must been hidden under the black normally.
I pulled up at a bunch of shops just off the highway, filled up with gas, and thought we could get something to eat before we took off to wherever we were going.
She had other ideas. When I got back in to move the car from the pump and park up, she was awake. The first thing she said was, “Can we go to the porn shop? I’ve never been in one of those porn booths before. I bet you have. I’m scared, but excited, you know? You’ll take me, won’t you?”
I hadn’t ever been in one, but I knew I would take her anywhere. We didn’t go for breakfast, and soon we were watching some woman giving oral sex in the red light of a small, seedy room, really only made for one. She copied the woman on the screen and soon I wasn’t watching the screen. A hole in the wall, which I hadn’t noticed before, appeared to me because fingers edged through it. She stopped doing what she was doing to me and licked the fingers instead. It was instantly replaced by a much larger object. “You mind?” she said, looking up at me and grinning. “No, I don’t mind.” I knew I didn’t. I knew I wouldn’t feel jealous; I knew now I could try anything, and it would all be good. She was good like that.
She engulfed it all. Like she was the porn star. She didn’t gag. She went back to me. Did the same. It was incredible to watch. The invisible man mumbled flattery, and I tried to do the same. For a moment, she held us both in her hands, not looking up, just concentrating on moving her hands; she went into a brief monologue that made me lose my mojo. “I don’t know why you guys are so impressed. You two, but not just you two, all guys. Most women who do this well were probably bulimic when they were kids, making themselves sick all the time because they were so unhappy, I know that’s me. And that ruined my gag reflex. I can’t make myself sick anymore, however much I try. But hell, I can do this well. Guys never seem to get that fact. You’re getting off on a lifetime of misery.” I got it so much that I went flaccid and felt cold. But the other man was unaffected and we know he had heard because she’d said it so loud the people in the shop had probably heard.
She seemed bored now. Looking up at me, she said, “Do you want a go?” I was on my knees and trying it without hesitation, not because I wanted to, but because I’d do anything she asked, even something I’d never even pictured before. It tasted ok, mostly of her own saliva, so it was like kissing her. I didn’t have to do it for long either because in seconds, hot liquid was splashing over my face and my tightly shut eyes. His scream splattered even wider, hitting every corner of the tiny room. A nauseating sound like a tortured animal. She was pulling me to my feet and dragging me out of the cubicle as his agony echoed on.
She pushed me in shotgun and drove off like a getaway driver. I was shaking and couldn’t calm.
“Hey,” she said, “it’s ok.” She put her hand on my knee and squeezed into it some comfort. “I know something that will cheer you up! Look at me.” Not taking her eyes off the empty straight road she put something to her mouth and moved it in and out. Then gave me a wicked grin. It was the shrunken leftovers of his penis that I must have spat out when she cut it off. I wasn’t repulsed, I wasn’t sickened. I thought it funny. Very funny. I laughed until my sides hurt, and I could hardly breathe. “There see, you are an amazing man, doing that for me. Hell better than this loser,” she pulled a funny face at it then threw it out the window, “and all the other losers back there! Feel better? I know I do. That was so much fun. Thank you for taking me in. I’d never have gone on my own.” She looked happy and high like this was the greatest day of her life. It was mine. “Look at your face; I just want to kiss it; you look so bloody good.” I flipped down the mirror to see I was covered in darkening, drying blood.
She stopped the car suddenly in the middle of the road the empty, quiet road, to leap on me and ride me. Licking my face and rubbing her hair against me as if trying to clean me that way. Her hair was now a zebra of black and red stripes. Her eyes stared at me, two inches away. “We should kill someone properly. More planned. I’m into it now. Are you?”
I must have said yes because soon we’d driven to pick up a victim and taken him somewhere quiet and… I did it, too. I killed him. She knew who it had to be. It was obvious, she’d said. She showed me pictures of herself when she was sixteen. She was a bit overweight; her face wasn’t slim and pretty, and she looked uncomfortable in the clothes she wore, none of the confidence she exuded in her sexy skin now. “That’s what I looked like back at high school; I mean, I was no beauty queen; no one wanted me for their girlfriend or prom date or even a fuck. I was excluded from everything, and this guy here,” she swept across her phone screen, “he made sure everyone kept to that rule. I don’t know if anyone fancied me back then, but he made sure I was officially the grossest thing in school and completely off-limits, even for friendships. Then I blossomed in my twenties, he found me on Facebook, sends me messages like these all the time.” I was given a Messenger page, and I scrolled through it. She had hardly ever replied, but he made up for it with pages and pages that were flattering and sexual and lewd and demanding and pleading and pathetic and aloof and kept on going to the point of boredom. The interspersed selfies and cock shots didn’t help. “Three years now, he doesn’t give up. He wants me so bad it hurts him; he says he can’t believe what became of the ugly duckling. I texted him earlier.” I skipped to the bottom. A dozen of his joyous, triumphant messages, but seconds before them, one from her, relenting, capitulating, and saying where to meet, to finally get some action from her.
He was already there when we arrived. I was hidden in the backseat well with a coat over me. She drove, flirting, turning him on. They touched each other before they’d even stopped driving. When they did it, she mounted him in the same position I had been in about an hour before; the moment of penetration was my signal. The knife she’d used on the man in the booth slit his throat without him ever seeing my face. And I didn’t see his face before he was choking to death. But I could see hers, and she sparkled. Her hair blazed red as she kept on rocking her hips back and forth. Still fucking his dying body.
I drove us out to the desert with them both entangled like that. He’d taken a few minutes to die but was gone long before we stopped in the middle of nowhere. She was still sat astride his thighs, rocking more slowly now and covered in his blood. She licked at blood only seeping from his neck now.
I built a fire, and we watched it grow until there was nothing left to burn. She wanted to put the body on it, so I dragged it from the passenger seat and threw him face down into the flames. The sulfurous smell of eggs hit me as his hair fizzled away. I could taste it like the specs of his skin were hovering in the air. I’d listened to a firefighter describe the smell at the bar once when he’d drunk too much. He’d made it sound repugnant, but I found the mix of barbecued steak and disintegrating metals, all to the sound of sizzling fajita, deeply erotic. I needed her again and faced her, grinding my teeth. She didn’t hesitate when she saw the lust in my eyes and laid back, naked now, onto his body, where it lay, creating a clearing in the fire, and welcomed me into her. Her bright red hair caught alight as we made love, but she grinned and giggled with all the demonic joy of the devil himself. I knew I could never be closer to another human being than I was right then. The flames died, my lust ebbed away, and she died away, melting into the heat. I choked on the ash of her crumpling blackened lips that I pressed against and kissed her flaking eyelids away. I breathed her in and felt her burnt and dried body give way a little beneath me. I felt the sap rise again, though, and made love to her one more time as her body mixed with the cinders and glowing embers. I finished again and fell asleep on top of her, clutching a handful of untouched red hair.
They told me she didn’t exist. They said my friends had never met her. She wasn’t at the fire, just the man I’d killed. No one remembered her in the sex shop, and she didn’t even work at the bowling alley. The deaths and maiming were real, but that was my responsibility alone.
Of course, none of that is true. They are all lying.
She’s not dead, either. She came to me, for a while, here in prison. I don’t know how she gets in; I can’t get out. But when she does, we make love in my top bunk, and then, together, we kill whoever bunks below me and do it again, in the bottom bunk, with their body. Within their body, we squirm. I open them up fully, using the knife I’ve stolen or just my bare hands, ripping them apart to fit us cosily within.
She doesn’t come anymore, though, because I’m not allowed to share a cell with anyone. I don’t see anyone at all now. Full isolation. If I don’t kill for her, I can’t show her how much I love her, so she doesn’t come. I can’t even get to a guard. I’m all there is left to kill now, so I wait for her to come and make love to me one last time, and then we can do it together. While I wait, I scream her name, “Taboo! Taboo!”
For even more horrific erotic horror, too bad for Substack… https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1646574 - Sex & Horror On Her Birthday
