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| Stories Bingo’s Home Bingo’s Lair |
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The Urinal — Part 2 Chapters 19 and 20 |
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19. Val used his key to enter his apartment. He dreaded this. Returning home without Em was a sign of failure and a monumental catastrophe. He had hoped, for some obscure reason, Megan wouldn't be home. She was, she came out of the kitchen. "I have dinner started. I wasn't sure when you'd come home so it's something simple." "No word?" She shook her head. "Look. I'm sorry about how I acted on the phone this morning. Okay?" He sat on the couch, gave an absent minded nod and looked through the magazines on the table. "Want a beer?" "Coffee." As soon as she was back in the kitchen, he went to the computer. He had an idea of which picture he wanted to use for a flyer. Finding the high resolution original took some searching. He cropped out the unnecessary portions, resized it and made a new JPG. This he inserted in a word processor document. Writing the text was hard. "That looks good," she said behind him. He printed a copy and handed it to her. "Think it'll work?" She nodded, touched his shoulder. "Back to the kitchen for me." "Why don't you put some clothes on?" She stopped. She didn't turn to him. "Val, Cunt is my name and I'm like this when I'm at home here. Nothing's changed." "Everything has changed. Put some clothes on." "No." He shrugged. "I'm too tired to fight you, Megan." "Cunt. It's Cunt. You named me Cunt. You can't take that from me." "I've made a lot of mistakes." "We all make mistakes, Val." He shook his head. The magnitude of his follies pressed on him. She went to the kitchen. To lose someone, so completely, so quickly, was unimaginable. Our lives were based on the premise that everything would continue as it had. No death, no disruption, no disappearance. No no knowing. Val printed a hundred flyers, setting them in stacks as the printer spit them out so they'd dry unsmudged. Half way through he realized a hundred wouldn't be enough. He printed copies until he ran out of paper. "Your dinner is getting cold." He looked up. "I said something but you were so absorbed." She shrugged. "Sorry." He went to the dining area. Dinner was macaroni and cheese with sliced hot-dogs on top. Bag salad in a bowl with vinaigrette. "I can go out with you." "Stay here." He finished chewing. "Someone needs to stay here. Go to the university when you need to but stay here." "What happened?" "We had two rooms in Walker Lodge, know it? Down by the highway. We'd been to Goodwill, Dirty Danny's and a few other places. Then Em invited men from a couple of strip clubs and a truck stop restaurant to the room. I left her at three thirty or so and went to the other room. When I woke up she wasn't with me. I assumed she'd be asleep next door. That room was empty. The bag of condoms was gone," she smiled, "but that doesn't mean anything. That's all I can eat." He laid the fork down. "I've been on my feet, on the phone or in the car since then." "Strip clubs?" "The police and hospitals don't know anything. Nobody knows anything. Do you realize how big everything is? It's like looking for a needle in a haystack." "Val, which clubs?" "What?" "Which strip clubs?" "The Rocking Horse, Godiva's. The restaurant restroom next to the hotel. That's where I left the slips." "Slips?" He took out his wallet, handed her the one Em had given him. "She passed these out, I left the rest in the men's room." She handed it back. "I need her numbers for Tuesday." "What are you talking about?" "Our business meeting. I need to do the books." "I have no idea. That's not important." "It is to me, it was to Em." "She's coming back." "Then she'll want it done right. You must have some idea. Write them down." "I have to work tomorrow." "Go to bed early. I'll wake you in the morning." "I have to go back. What if she's waiting? I don't want her to think we've left her." "I can go with you." "You need to stay here, Megan." "Cunt." "Please. Let's not argue." "It's Cunt." He stood. "I'm going to get a few things. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." "You're not in my hair. Relax for a minute. We can strategize." He went into the bedroom, took a shirt and slacks out of the closet. He laid them on the bed, began to grab things out of drawers. "You're leaving me here alone. Is that it?" she said from the doorway. "I'm leaving you for the next few nights. I'm not good company anyway. Small loss." "Did you love her?" "That's a stupid question." He tossed socks onto the bed and turned to her. "I don't have time for this." "Do you love me?" He stared at her for a moment, turned back to the dresser. "Answer me." He shrugged. "Fuck you, too." She left the room. He sat on the bed, stared at the appliances he used to bind Em at night. There were too many memories here. He went into the bathroom, got his shaving gear and toothbrush and dumped them on the bed. There wasn't enough stuff to use a suitcase. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of plastic grocery bags and carried them back into the bedroom. Megan sat on the couch watching him. He stuffed his clothes into one bag, his other stuff into a second bag. Anything he forgot he'd buy. He set the bags on the table by the computer next to her books. He wanted to just leave but couldn't. He sat across from Megan. "I've already called Bert. He's keeping an eye out, too." "So I'm to be celibate." She turned to face him. "Do whatever you want." "I don't care if you love me or not." "I know. I'm sorry." She started to speak, stopped. After a moment she said, "I need the numbers before you leave. Will you call me?" "I'll be by tomorrow after work." "I want you to call me. I'm lonely, okay?" She gave a tentative smile. "I'll call you." "It's not like I don't put out for you. You make it sound like an ordeal." "I'll call you." He moved to stand. "Don't rush off. I need you to hold me." "Sorry." He stood. She stood. "I know a girl who works at The Rocking Horse." He sat. "Why didn't you tell me?" She knelt by his chair. "I tried to. Her name is Angelique. I don't know if she has a stage name. Angelique Curtis. She's blonde, kind of cute, not exceptionally smart, but wears tight clothes, looks like she had a boob job, and aces her classes with male profs." "You don't like her?" "Okay. She's really smart, is pretty, had a boob job, passes all her classes, works in a strip club and is known for doing stupid things like giving a bunch of guys blowjobs at a party." He smiled at her. "Jealous?" "Of what? My reputation, now, is trashier than hers." "Sorry." He stood. "Please fuck me. Do whatever you want." She looked up at him from his feet. "Not tonight." He went to the table, picked up the bags and the stack of flyers. "You'll call me?" "Why?" "Because I need to hear your voice." "No more rules. You get bored you can watch TV, have friends over. Whatever. Get drunk, get laid." "Get lost like Em." He stood at the door looking at her. "I'm sorry. Val, the rules remain. Valiant and brave Cunt will watch the homefires tonight." "You'll call me if you hear anything?" "You'll hear my screams of joy before the phone rings. She's okay, Val. I know she is." "I wish I could feel that way." "She was happy here, Val. She told me so." "I hope so." He stood on the porch, held the door. "Keep the front door locked, Megan." "That's been rule number seventy-two since forever. And it's Cunt. C-U-N-T." He shut the door, listened to hear the lock engage and went to his car. 20. "The meeting will now come to order." "This is stupid," Val said. "I don't know why we're doing this." She looked up from the papers in front of her. "Val, this is important. You had no idea how hard Em and I worked to create impressive reports. You thought they were cute." "Go on with it then, Megan." "Cunt." She pointed to her forehead where she'd written it in block letters. "That won't wash out before you go to school tomorrow." "I don't care. You don't care. No one frigging cares." "Let's get it over with. I need to go back." "So you can cram in a dozen more lap dances. In memory of dear Em." She raised her eyes and crossed her hands over her breasts. "We're at a business meeting." "Cunt's report is short and sweet. A sore ass, two new links and that looks like that will be about it for this week. Stay tuned for next week." She leaned toward him, arms on the table. "I'm bored stiff. After the meeting I have a proposition." "No." "At least listen." "Megan, I've asked you." "Cunt." "You a thousand times. Put some clothes on." "And I've told you, not in the house. You want to hold this meeting elsewhere; I'll dress appropriately. At Dirty Danny's I'll wear a belt. It'll give the guys something to hold on to. In your hotel room like this, hopefully doggy style, you chose the hole. I won't complain ever again. Better a sore ass than nothing. At your strip clubs I'll wear a thong, unless you ask me nicely. I can even lap dance. Want to try me?" "No. Not really." She pushed a sheet of paper aside. "Em's report is much, much more impressive." She handed him a copy. He saw the cover, Em's face on it, flipped through the pages. "Fine." "On page fourteen is a summary of the week's totals, Saturday's figures are conjectured but believed to be reasonably accurate." She held up page fourteen. There were several columns, each with a visual cue as to its contents. The imagery was derived from Em's photos or movie stills, stuff off the web and clip art that she and Em had accumulated. The first column was men, distinct numbers, totaled for each day, not counting repeats. The following columns were devoted to particular acts and the number of condoms in Em's condom bag. "Are you examining page fourteen?" "No." "Please do. It's impressive." She lowered her voice. "Come on, Val. This was important to her. She got a kick out of creating these reports, entering her daily totals, creating graphs and charts of the most obscure minutiae of her daily life." Val opened the report. "Cute." "Why thank you. It's a start. Most men tell me I'm beautiful so they can get in my pants. Here I am, bare ass naked, you've been there, done that, and I've had exactly two compliments from you. That dinner at Chi Chi's where you told me I'm pretty and now this, months later, after I've given you everything, you say cute." "I meant this," he tapped the report. "I know you meant that, Val." "Megan." "Cunt." She pointed to her forehead. "Everything doesn't revolve around you. There are other people, you know." "Val. Val. Val. Val. A thousand Val's. The whole universe and poor little lonely Cunt is put to the wayside. On page fifteen," she picked up the report, "we can see how outstanding in performance the past week has been." She held up the report. "Page fifteen, Val." He turned to page fifteen. A long graph showed ups and downs plotted over the past months, with a spike ending the series. "It's pretty amazing. I don't know how she did it. Page twenty shows the grand total for all the categories. Since the accounting method wasn't the same for every item during the period considered, there are irregularities. Page twenty-five presents suggestions to create a truer picture of activity, assuming Em is still with us." She held up page twenty-five. "This is important, Val." Val wanted to leave. Seeing how many men Em fucked in a day was obscene. A week ago it was a big joke. "Are you paying attention?" He looked up. "A bar code scanner. We'd need to give everyone a bar code, their very own. They could keep it on their key ring. The overall numbers would go down in category one, but we could track each individual's activities using bar-codes attached to the usee, in a waterproof manner, to be scanned before each act. So we would know user and uses they chose." Val pointed to his watch. "I think it's a very good idea especially considering its minimal onetime upfront cost. The data collected could be attached to promotional materials, such as DVD covers, presenting the numbers involved, and awe-inspiring determination of the actress. Fellatio, eighty-nine times; fornication, twenty-three times; sodomy, ten times; and piss drinking, gallons and gallons. Yummmy. That reminds me, Val." "No." She set the report on the table. "I move that the report be accepted." "I second that." "Thank you, Val. Votes for." She counted. "Unanimous." She rose and carried her copy of the report to the bookcase. "A fitting tribute." Val stood, "I'm going. Do you need anything? Money? I'll be spending the night at the hotel through Saturday." She faced him. "Val, I want nothing more than for her to come back. She's not here, though, and I have the feeling that everything is falling apart." "I don't have time." "Just a minute or two. Can we sit?" He followed her into the living room, sat across from her. The trouble was she was good looking and he had memories. The last thing he wanted was to fall into the old pattern but had nothing she wanted to replace it with. She sat with her legs open, her links arranged carefully, spread on the couch cushion between her thighs. "I need to get something." She jumped up, left him, came back and sat down. She fanned the links between her legs, took the book from her side. "O is taken by René and Sir Stephen to Sir Stephen's apartment the first time where they propose to her. The proposal is simple. They ask her to agree to let them use her, however they wish. She asks if they'll whip her. Remember? I can read the passage." "I remember. Megan, I . . ." "They tell her, yes, she will be whipped. She's not sure she'll be able to --" The telephone rang. Val spoke into the receiver. "Yes." "Val? This is Jerry." "Jerry. I called about the poker game Sunday. I'd like to play." "The word is the girl is gone. Is that right? You have nothing to play with." "That's why I." "There's no game Sunday, Val. I'm sorry." "None of you has seen her?" "What did you do to her?" "Nothing. I." "There is no game Sunday, Val. I have to go." Jerry hung up. Val hung up the phone. "I need to leave, Megan." "Val, for the fucking last time. My name is Cunt. That's the name you gave to me." She tossed the book to the table. "Em's gone and it's terrible without her. I miss her more than you can imagine. We talked about so much stuff; it's empty here without her. I don't want to lose everything. I keep my name. Cunt. I dress as I used to, like this," she slapped her breast. "And I hope you and I can find a way to continue. It won't be the same as with her here, but it wouldn't be anything she wouldn't like if she came back. I'm ready to say yes to you. Val, you can use me in any way you like. I have hopes and desires but you'll chose the way I'll be used and by whom. I'd like to get my degree. If you have other plans, I'll abide. I want to be sold; you don't want to sell me, that's fine. I want to be used as Em was used; by whom and how is entirely up to you. If just by you, I'm happy. If by no one, I'll abide. I'm giving myself to you to use as you see fit." "I'm sorry." "You didn't hurt my ass that much, Val. I'm histrionic, I need attention. I'll dramaticize. I." She stopped, looked down. Val stood. "You said something about knowing a stripper." She spoke not looking up. "Angelique Curtis at The Rocking Horse. Did you hear a word I said?" "I may not be in tomorrow after work." Val took his wallet out, set some bills on the coffee table. Her fingers were closed, thumbs pressing hard, hands on her knees. He wanted to touch the band of hair on her head. "Did you?" "I'm sorry, Megan." "Cunt," she screamed. "Cunt. Cunt. Cunt." She stood. "You're sorry what?" "I'm sorry I didn't do anything right." "You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I wanted this. I want this. I want you to tie my hands together, gag me, drag me to your car, drive me somewhere, and dump me in the laps of the most disgusting men you can find. Sell me, loan me, get rid of me. Do something. I'm not a fucking little schoolgirl. I'm your Cunt. I'm this." She slapped her forehead. "Don't leave me. Don't turn your back on me. Don't you dare. Val." He locked the door behind him. All he could remember was Angelique something. Part
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