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| Stories Bingo’s Home Bingo’s Lair |
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The Urinal — Part 1 Chapters 1 and 2 |
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1. It was just Val's luck to win his first real poker game. Val and his friends were playing at Rudy's BB. The BB originally stood for Band Box when the bar was a club in the 40s and 50s. The swank side of town moved and Rudy's was now surrounded by a few junk stores calling themselves antique stores, a Christian mission for the homeless and a shoe repair shop. BB was short for Bar and Barbecue now though the barbecue was only on Saturday night and was hamburgers. Sunday nights Rudy's was closed. The man who owned Rudy's, Tommy D., was behind the bar cleaning. Saturday nights, with a loud band, got a little rowdy. Val didn't usually go to Rudy's but his friend, Jerry, brought him over. The others at the table, Frank, Bob, Sammy and Dave were also Val's friends. Not close friends but they'd all grown up together, shared the same music likes, high school rivalries, Southside against Central, and even had some of the same girls for lovers. That was twelve years ago. Bob was divorced, Sammy and Dave each had kids and a mortgage, Frank was looking and Jerry had a live-in girlfriend. Bob always talked about women as if they were slabs of meat which was why Val never expected the marriage to last. Bob's ex was a good friend of Nancy's, Val's girlfriend's, and Nancy didn't really like it much when Val spent much time with Jerry, Bob and the others. Nancy taught women's studies at the university, was at a conference for the weekend, and Val figured she'd never find out. Everyone was looking at him, Bob looked like he was going to say something but didn't, no doubt because of Jerry's elbow. "Two pair," Jerry said. "You take the pot and we have tradition that the winner of the last game gets to keep the urinal for a week." Jerry was starting to bald early, wore gold wire rim glasses and looked like an old time bookie. Of course he had to be a CPA. Val looked at the mound of pennies in the center of the table. "I don't need a urinal." Bob laughed, "This one . . ." "It's a tradition," Frank said. Frank was angular and dark; always looked like he needed a shave. He leaned forward. "Just for a week. It's no big deal." Bob shook his head grinning. Sammy and Jerry were nodding. "Jerry didn't tell you?" "No." "He should of." Frank turned to Jerry. "You should have." Jerry shrugged. Frank rose and left the table. He talked to Tommy D. for a minute and came back with six beers. "Last call." Val took a sip of the new beer and watched their faces as they watched his. "It's in the men's room," Bob said. "Need any help?" "You're kidding, aren't you?" "You haven't been in the men's room?" Val shook his head. "Check it out, man. This is a special urinal. Fancy." Bob chugged his beer. "Come on." Bob could stand to lose some weight. For some reason he always wore red plaid shirts. "Maybe he'd better see it for himself," Sammy said. Sammy was the shortest person in the room. He was always careful in his choice of what he wore unlike the rest of them -- he was a dapper man. Frank grinned as he drank from the bottle. Val put his bottle on the table, rose and left them. He came back a few minutes later, sat down and finished his beer. He opened his mouth, shook his head. Frank came back with another beer for Val. "It's like fucking a bowling ball. Frank shaved her head two weeks ago and you can't hold on to nothing." Bob grinned at Val. "Better than a bowling ball, but you know." Frank said to Bob, "It's strange you would know what fucking a bowling ball is like. My dick is too big for those finger holes." Dave took a drink, put his bottle on the table. "God gave her ears, Bob." Dave was a cop, a burly guy who knew how to use his voice. Bob glared at Frank, then laughed. "I need to take a piss." He stood. "Sit down," Dave said. Bob sat. "Well?" Frank said. Val had done a lot of crazy things, especially when he was younger. But what he'd seen in the men's room was craziest by far. "Well?" Frank said. "Give him a moment," Jerry said. Val had opened the door and expected a prank, a urinal off the wall or decorated for him. Everyone would have their laugh seeing how far they could go with the joke. Eventually they'd all go home. They'd have something to smile about at work on Monday, the whole week maybe. The men's room was large, tiled in white with black banding. The floor was a black and white checkerboard of smaller square tiles. In the center of the room was a painted cement basin, about three feet by three feet, lowered into the floor with a chrome drain cover in the center. The cement looked newly painted, shiny brick red, the chromed eyebolts at the corner of the basin were bright, unlike the chrome on the sink fixtures which was beginning to show brass in spots. Chains went up from the eyebolts to a steel collar where they were locked to the loops on the collar. The collar looked homemade, of gray iron with weld spatter where the loops were fastened and already getting rusty. No one had bothered to paint the collar. The collar was around a woman's neck. The first thing Val had seen when he walked in the room was her smile, she shorn head, and tattoos. Val was still seeing in his mind what he'd taken in with a glance. She was kneeling, naked, slender, not skinny, small breasts, the smile, red lips, green eyes, bald but with a blondish fuzz. No jewelry. Her pubic area wasn't shaved and the hair was dark like her eyebrows. She opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue which was covered with white goo. Her body glistened with moisture and she smelled strongly of urine. She popped her tongue back in her mouth and swallowed. She showed her clean tongue and settled back on her heels. The girl gave an unearthly moan and that's when Val shut the door. "Well, will you?" Frank asked. "Look guys. I really, really need to take a piss." Bob left them. "It's just for a week," Jerry said. "You can bring her back here in the evenings." "For her . . ." Sammy began. "Shut up, Sammy. Look, why don't you guys go join Bob and I'll talk to Val." Val watched Tommy D. join them in the rush to the restroom. He turned to Jerry. "What's . . ." "Look, Val. We have this girl who," Jerry paused. "She's someone Bob knows. She wants this, but don't ask her, she won't say a word. Not a word. Frank and Bob have been taking care of her, they're not married or have girlfriends, and it's the only way she'll do this. She made a commitment; we have to match that commitment. You know how it is? We couldn't just let anyone, you know, just pass her along. Shirk our responsibilities. That wouldn't be right. None of the rest of us can. Take care of her during the week, you know, except for Bob and Frank and they're going out of town for three weeks. They're going to miss her." "What's her name?" Of all the questions Val could ask, he asked this one. "No name. I'm not even sure Bob knows her real name. You see her tattoos? Bob takes her to a parlor and trades, her for, you know? He wants to get her done all over. She likes it, Val. You gotta believe that. Otherwise none of us would be doing, you know?" "And if I say no?" Jerry leaned forward. "You're kidding. You wouldn't say no, would you? We need your help, Val." Val could hear muffled shouting from the restroom. "Why not Tommy D." "Married." "Why not leave her here?" "She can't be left alone. She gets lonely." Jerry was ready to go on but Val stopped him. "This is crazy." "We've been lucky sons of bitches the last few weeks. It'd be a shame to have it end. Besides, what's going to happen to her? What if someone, who didn't care for her like we do, got their hands on her? She'll do anything, as long as she's, well, you know." Jerry waved his hand to the restroom. "You know?" He smiled. Val shook his head. "Nancy is coming back to town tomorrow." "But you two don't live together." "Just about." "Tell her you're sick. Something communicable." Jerry smiled. "It's easy." "You're crazy, they're crazy, this whole thing is crazy. She's . . ." "Val if you don't take her, it's not like it's 24/7, you can drop her off here in the evenings, someone can even bring her back to your apartment at two. If you won't, we'll have to discard her. Give her to whoever we meet. Some pimp or a group of homeless men. You know what happens then. Six months from now you open the paper and read about some woman's body being found and you'll know it's her and you'll feel like a shit." "No." "Look, Val. Try her out, at least. And she's cheap to take care of. No clothes, nothing. You don't have to do anything. She lives on cum and piss. Literally. If you don't want to, there are plenty that will feed her. What do you say?" "No." Val was thinking about the girl and cum and piss and what Nancy would say. There was no way he'd take her. 2. Val was surprised at how easy it was to walk the naked girl, her hands bound, out of the bar and to his car. She sat in the front next to him, never saying a word, stinking only a little. Tommy D. had hosed her down. Bob squeezed the girl's shoulder, said to Val, "You won't starve the bitch, will you?" laughed and shut the door. Sunday night, after eleven, the streets were quiet. Val watched his friends walk away, the lights at Rudy's go out. He was stuck with her which was a little exciting and a little frightening at the same time. He started the car and pulled out onto the street. Val had known sure things when he was younger, girls who always said yes. But none of them had affected him so strongly. It wasn't the girl's looks, which were okay but she wasn't near as pretty as Nancy. It wasn't the girl's nakedness or the smell she gave off. It wasn't watching his friends and the girl earlier. Val thought it might be the collar on her throat, crude, heavy and beginning to rust, riveted shut. The collar and the key to the locks that bound her in the restroom and in the car seat. The key was in his pocket. She never said no, never said yes. At most she gave that weird nasal moan or used her hands to point at what she wanted or where she wanted it. Bob could be crude and she didn't care, leaned into him after he slapped her and called her every name possible, all of them watching. "What's your name?" Val asked. He heard nothing and looked over at her. She shrugged. "No name?" She shrugged. "You don't mind? What Bob and them did to you?" She smiled, shrugged. "You like it?" She nodded, said, "Ummmm." "Are you happy?" Val wasn't sure he wanted to know. If she wasn't he'd have to do something. "I can get clothes for you tomorrow. You can go. We'd get that silly thing off of your neck first." He looked over at her while stopped at the light. "Tomorrow. Okay?" She touched her collar, hung her fingers from the welded loops. "Ummmm." Val looked away. "Are you hungry?" She made that moan. He looked over at her and the car behind him honked. The light was green. He drove through the intersection as she moaned next to him. The sound sent shivers up his spine. He felt her hands in his lap, glanced quickly over, saw her face, and turned back to the road. He heard her seatbelt click. She fumbled at his pants, head under his hands on the steering wheel, bare ass in the air where anyone could see it. "Stop that." He tried to push her away. "Stop that." He drove into an empty, too well lit parking lot and lifted her away. She didn't resist. She knelt in the seat next to him, moaning and poking her finger into her mouth. "No," he said. She looked crazy to him. No one could want it that much. "No." She slumped against the seat, said, "Ummm." "I'm not going to, with you, understand? I'm just keeping you for a week. I have a girlfriend, understand?" She nodded, twisted slowly back down into her seat and looked to her right out the window. Val realized he was going to have a crazy woman in his apartment. He'd be at work during the day, he'd drop her off at the bar in the evenings. Maybe he wouldn't. Nancy would be back in the morning and he could talk to her and she'd know what to do. A shelter or something. Val started the car and drove to his apartment. He parked in front and realized he could go up, find something to cover her, or brazen it out. He wasn't sure he should leave her alone. The apartments were built in the late fifties, single story, and meandered across a well kept yard. His was near the front, down a walk, past the Anderson's and Chin's whose lights were out. He chanced it. He pulled her into the apartment and shut the door behind them. He felt her stumble, turned on the light and saw her down on a knee. It was entirely different seeing her here in his own apartment, kneeling, head bowed, quiet, her bound hands on the floor in front of her. He saw the tattoo on her upper ass for the first time. All of the tattoos were crude, most were incomplete, several were just words. On her ass was a dick and balls, drawn like he'd seen on lavatory walls, drops arced from the penis head across the cleft of her ass onto the other cheek. No swimsuit would ever cover what had been done to her. She might pass with a long sleeved blouse and jeans. He couldn't talk to her, turned on the TV and walked to the kitchen, turning on lights. She could sleep on the couch. He filled two glasses with water, carried them back to the living room. "Here," he said, handing her one. She lifted her eyes, smiled and shrugged. She lowered her eyes and said, "Ummm." "Here," he said. He gave up, left the glass on the table by her and sat on the couch. He sipped his water, set the glass on the table, changed the channel to something with movies and left her. He came back with sheets, a pillow and a blanket and she was gone. For a moment he thought she'd left, then he heard her weird moan coming from the bathroom. She knelt in the bathtub, hands outstretched, the chain and locks between them, taut. The girl's mouth was open. She smiled and stuck her tongue out, waiting. He'd seen her do this earlier and what happened. Each of the guys. His mind stopped. There was no sequence. Bob's fingers held her ears as he shoved his cock as far as it would go into her mouth. Tommy D. painted her with piss, finishing in her mouth. Jerry barely less rough than Bob and Frank. He left her, came back into the bathroom and splashed the glass of water in her face. She wiggled her tongue at him. "You're sleeping in here?" She nodded. "Good." He turned out the light and shut the door. He'd use a coffee can in the kitchen. The coffee can in the kitchen made so much noise she heard him and he had only just enough time to cover himself with his robe. She fell to her knees, lifted the can, moaning open mouthed. She bent her head back but he took the can from her before she poured. He dumped it in the sink. She struggled to get past him and he struggled not to feel her body against his. He grabbed the chain between her wrists and tugged her. "Come on," Val said. "Back to the bathtub. Time for nighty night." As he wrapped the chain around the tub's cold faucet and locked it he had the strange feeling that he was watching himself do something evil. He tried to ignore the feeling, touched her shoulder to say goodnight and felt her shiver. That shiver jolted his hand away. He said nothing and left her. In bed he tried to imagine what she was feeling or thinking. His imagination ran wild but he wasn't sure her dumb articulateness meant a little or a lot. He needed to call her something and the names that popped in his head ranged from Anne, his older sister's name, to Fuckslut or something similarly stupid. In the morning he'd ask her her age, saying numbers until he saw a meaningful smile or nod. That could be her name. He was sure, mostly sure, she was over eighteen, and younger than him. He was also sure calling her something like twenty-three wasn't going to be satisfactory. He woke in the morning hearing the apartment door close and Nancy saying, "Hello? Val?" He sat up in bed. "You're early. I needed to call you." "I need to pee. Be there in a . . ." Val said, wait, wait, wait, but no sound came out. He heard the girl's moan. "Valentine Demitrios Stanos. You have an explanation, don't you?" By the sound of her voice, Nancy was walking away. "Wait." He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, saw Nancy at the apartment door, opening it. "You don't, do you?" Nancy closed the door. Val was incredibly angry with himself, his friends, at Nancy for not listening. He slapped the girl in the tub, backed away, shut the bathroom door. He sat on his bed, the alarm rang too loudly and his hand still stung. He slapped the alarm off. He was someone he didn't know. Part
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