Existential Burlesque: 2

Read Part 1

Mitch was three beers into his Friday night when Susan texted: I need your big cock.

The statement jolted him. For some reason his first instinct was to turn the phone over and hide it from the other two men in the bar. He glanced nervously at them, but they were too focused on the television to notice anything else.

Mitch turned the phone back over and read again.

I need your big cock.

He slowly shook his head in befuddlement. “I don’t have a big cock,” he thought.

Two stools over Bryon Ryan pounded his fist onto the bar and yelled at the television as Lebron James sank a game-winning three point shot.

“Fucking asshole. Everybody’s always talking about that guy’s work ethic. Look at him, man. He’s like a goddamn gazelle crossed with an elephant. Work ethic can’t give you that shit. That’s genes, man.”

Kevin the bartender nodded slowly and folded his stubby arms over an A-Team tee shirt. This was always how he stood, like some diminutive god of justice looking disdainfully upon his clientele and judging them unworthy.

“Work ethic my ass,” Kevin grumbled. “I got work ethic. Ain’t never going to play in the NBA, though.”

Byron extracted a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and pulled free a smoke before remembering he could no longer do so indoors. He slipped the item back into its holster and pointed angrily at the air.

“That’s what I’m saying, man. You want to know what work ethic is? Work ethic is sleeping three hours a night for a month on end. Work ethic is freezing your ass off while you ride a boat through a monsoon with a wet cigarette in your mouth. No one puts me on television or gives me millions of bucks for my work ethic.”

Twice a year Byron left town to work the fishing boats up in Alaska. He used every possible opportunity he could find to remind people of that.

Mitch would normally join in the jealous raging, but he was stuck trying to figure out what was going on.

Big cock? He couldn’t recall Susan ever using the word ‘cock’ before. In those rare moments she was forced to identify his member at all she called it his wiener, and even that was with nervous embarrassment.

She was trying to belittle him, Mitch finally decided. She wanted to humiliate and emasculate him. All because he forgot her stupid birthday. That was sick. Just sick.

“Enough of this shit,” he said and headed for the door, ready to do battle.

Twenty minutes later he stepped inside his kitchen to find the house dark except for some soft, orange light in the adjoining living room. He flicked the kitchen light on.

“Geez, Mitch, can you turn that light out?” Susan said from the living room. “I’m trying to do something here.”

At the edge of the light Susan was sprawled out on the couch, dressed in a skimpy, crotchless leather lingerie.

Mitch turned the light out. His mood hadn’t changed. The sight of her there had simply unversed him so much that he didn’t want to see it anymore. What the hell was happening? What kind of sick plot had she cooked up?

“Come in here.”

Mitch hesitated a moment before saying “fine” and walking into the living room.

A few candles dimly lit the room.

Susan stood up from the couch, three inches taller than usual thanks to heels. Soft candlelight danced on her leather.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Mitch.”

Mitch backed up until he bumped into a wall. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Mitchy. I saw what you’ve been looking up on the computer. All those sexy ladies. All that leather. Three at a time, Mitch? Very, very naughty.”

She stepped towards him. Mitch pressed back harder against the wall, like a mouse caught in a corner with a cat looming over him.

“Looking at porn isn’t a crime, is it? What the hell am I supposed to do? I never get anything from you.”

“Oh, Mitchy.”

Susan pointed a finger softly into his chest and trailed down to his belt. “I’m not mad. I think it’s hot. Very, very hot.”

Mitch pushed her hand away.

“What’s your problem?”

“My only problem is that I’m horny.”

“Are you really still angry over that stupid argument in the kitchen?”

Susan laughed but looked confused. What she thought was Mitch’s playful banter now seemed anything but playful.

“I’m not angry. I’ve just decided to take control of my life. I’m happier than I’ve been in years, actually.”

She stopped laughing and lowered her head so that she was looking up at him like a hungry jaguar emerging from the jungle. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, I want you to fuck me, Mitch. Hard.”

She grabbed his crotch firmly and pulled herself into him. She bit his ear and sucked on his lip.

At that point Mitch finally realized she wasn’t trying to get some kind of twisted revenge. She was trying to seduce him. That’s all it had been from the very beginning.

The problem was that, upon realizing that, he just wanted to laugh.

“Susan.” He gently took the hand from his crotch. “Listen, I know what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t us.”

Susan stepped away, still playing seductress. She pulled down one side of her leather top to show one of her small breasts. She squinted the way porn stars squint when they’re trying to look sexy, a look which is actually not sexy at all when done with such obvious exaggeration — not even on porn stars.

“Susan.”

Mitch’s body trembled with giggles, but he managed to keep them at bay.

Seemingly out of nowhere (it would forever be a mystery to him where she was hiding these things) Susan pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She took a long drag, not actually inhaling but pulling a lot of smoke into her mouth, and blew that into his direction.

Mitch backed away swatting at the air. “God, Susan, that’s disgusting.”

With that, his self-control broke, and he began to laugh. Softly, at first, but soon belly laughing despite. No amount of effort could stop it. He just kept laughing, harder and harder.

“Smoking fetish was all over your porn searches, Mitch. I thought you were into this.”

“Maybe in porn, but not with you.”

He busted into a new wave of laughter.

“I could never be sexy like that, huh? Too plain and boring?”

“No, it’s not that.”

It actually wasn’t like that, though she’d never believe it because he couldn’t stop laughing as he said it. He’d actually been referring to the fact that smoking in real life did indeed disgust him. Maybe there really was some truth in what she said, too, though.

“Did you ever find me sexy?” Susan asked.

The statement instantly cut off his laughter. It bore years of sadness and disillusionment. Was there anything sadder on Earth than true love gone fallow?

Mitch was ready to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness, but before he could, Susan’s expression froze him.

She didn’t look like she was going to cry. She didn’t even look upset. She just shook her head and looked almost amused.

“You know what,” Susan said. “I tried. No one can say I didn’t try.”

With that, she simply turned around and walked away. A moment later, the sound of the door opening came from the kitchen. Mitch ran to the entryway.

“You can’t go out dressed like that.”

“I can do whatever I want, Mitch. Don’t worry, though, I’m just stepping outside.”

“You’re going to stand outside in leather lingerie and heels and smoke a cigarette?”

“I guess so.”

“Susan, please, put that disgusting thing out so we can talk.”

She took another drag. She didn’t inhale, but she tried.

“Talking’s done, Mitch. Do you know how humiliating this night would have been to me back when I gave a shit?”

Mitch couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Susan didn’t even sound angry. She sounded truly done.

“I’m taking control of my life. You can do the same. Or not. I don’t care.” Upon saying that, she seemed to realize that she truly meant it, and laughed with frantic giddiness. “I really don’t. I put myself on the line tonight. Remember that.”

She stepped outside and closed the door.

Mitch watched her through the window.

She flicked her cigarette into the yard and stomped it out without another drag. She just stood out there in the moonlight, chin high, looking down the street.

Mitch wondered what she saw there.

Continue to Part 3

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