I walked out
My M.O. was always the same: pick 'em up, fuck 'em, kick 'em out or walk
out on 'em. I didn't need no fancy proclamations of "oh baby you have
the sweetest pussy I ever tasted," or "your titties are like
buttercups." I knew just how it was - an animal thing, brought on by
senseless chemicals coursing through under my skin and some kind of
stupid scented, no one could smell it, thing the man brought out of the
woman when they got near enough to walk in each other's waft.
"Baby you're a long, tall drink of water" was nothing more than
senseless gibberish to me. Didn't have no power, didn't need to be taken
no account of neither.
"Cut the crap, Luther (or Harold, or Johnny, or Jimmy, or Luscious, or
Tim), I don't need to hear you talking and you shore as hell don't need
to hear yourself. Now come over here and get busy." I spread my legs out
wide like a display, lift up my silk and satin 100% like real nightie
and let him take me. At least, in his mind, that's what he be doin. In
my mind, course, I be takin' him. For all he's worth. I got what he
needs. I know how to use him to my advantage.
Then little Lilly Jo came along, changed everything. For the first time I
could remember since before my mama left me when I was five, I felt
like I couldn't live without another person. Frankly, if I'm being
truthful here, this was more than I could take. I didn't count on
feeling worried and loving about another person and I sure didn't want
to think her life was in my hands. Naturally, though, it was.
Lilly Jo was pudgy and rolly, like soft bread dough. She had the biggest
little cheeks I ever saw, and her hair was curly and soft, unusual
cause it was red, gold and brown, all together. People used to ask me
"did you color your baby's hair?" as if I had the time or inclination.
Sometimes, just for the heck of it, I said "why yes, I did, just last
Sunday, do you like it?"
Lilly grew faster than I liked - going from being a soft ball of
laughter and stink to something lanky and slim, like me sort of - only
she glided across the floor where I just sort of pounded across it,
taking what I wanted. Lilly had wiles and ways. She could make you do
anything just by smiling and blinking and this worried me. But not
enough I guess. Cause I still let Bobby move in with us, even though
every hair standing up on the back of my arm told me not to.
The night he finally came to stay the wind bit at my skin coming through
the cracks between the logs in our homemade little cabin. I shoulda
known then something wasn't right. It was late summer. Hot. Burnt. But I
felt shivers running down my back and across my calves. And Lilly Jo,
she didn't make one sound at all. Not one.
You really write beautifully!
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