The House Slut

Part Three

Although the subway train was packed and he was being continually jostled, he was able to go through the past several days' events in his mind. Tuesday Pixie arrived and nothing had been the same since.

Wednesday morning he put all, or most at least, of his parents' valuable possessions into his old bedroom and locked the door. The ones he could move that is. Everything in the apartment was valuable to them. He hadn't thought about having someone like Pixie in their home and leaving her alone all day.

He was late for class; not that he missed anything. It was impossible to miss anything in statistics class. Statistics was gibberish. He debated going back to the apartment and checking on Pixie before shopping. He decided to shop first.

The clerk gave him such a look when he checked out. A box of latex gloves, saran wrap, several brands of condoms, several types of lubricants, a bottle of glycerin and finally, the kicker, ten cans of cheese whiz. He knew everyone in the store was staring at him. Especially when the clerk called her friends over from the other registers to look at what she just rang up.

After dinner Pixie (who hadn't left; he was amazed) decided to show him what it looked like when she tried to shove a two liter bottle up her cunt. He stared in astonishment as she tried and tried, getting red in the face, finally deciding she couldn't because she was too tight. She set the bottle on the dining room table telling him he was lucky to have a slut who was still tight.

He escaped to the computer room and found himself watching the video of her with the men over and over.

Thursday was no better. She threw a fit because there was no more cheese whiz. For some reason she had the idea that he wanted to eat the crap off her bare skin.

He threw a fit because when he came home she was still there; he figured after Wednesday night she might leave. He threw a fit because the place looked like a pigsty. Stuff strewn all over. He couldn't tell but he thought she'd sprayed cheese whiz on herself and then pressed her naked body onto the living room windows. That's what he thought had happened. It looked like afterwards she had lolled on the couch before washing the crap off herself but not off the windows or the couch.

She greeted him at the door with her complaints asking him why didn't he bring anyone over to fuck her if he wasn't going to. The Thursday update was her ass was okay now; he could fuck her there if he wanted. Did he want a blowjob?

After a very quiet meal he went to the computer room but it wouldn't boot up. There was cheese whiz on the mouse so he had a pretty good idea what the problem was. He went to find her. She was on the floor, on her back, a candle sticking out of her twat, legs by her ears, watching what looked like the Playboy Channel. She wanted to know if he was ready to light her fire.

Walking to the apartment building, two blocks from the subway, he remembered her bursting into tears. She didn't know what was wrong. She was cruising the web and then blooey, everything went black. She seemed to think either a blowjob or a fuck would help the matter. He turned and left her.

Not getting any sleep because of her snoring wasn't helping any. He felt guilty so he didn't make her sleep on the couch. He felt guilty about a lot of things. A blowjob or a fuck wasn't going to help any.

He watched that movie and wham he was hard as a rock. He got hard just thinking about that movie. She'd laugh or snore or wave a can of cheese whiz in his face and it was gone. All desire disappeared, replaced by the sincerest form of loathing.

As he rode the elevator he thought about how he wasn't going to get laid until she was gone. He couldn't have anyone over. He could, but he liked his friends too much.

He didn't loathe her all the time. Sometimes she surprised him and he thought she looked cute. Generally that happened just before she did something with a two-liter bottle or her fingers. Generally before she said something stupid like if he didn't want her to give him a blowjob should she bring the vacuum cleaner into the bedroom for him to use. She'd like to watch.

Her grousing about missed opportunities grated. She figured she had only a few years left in her slut life. Each minute was precious. She wanted to fill each moment remaining with slut acts. Each minute she wasn't actually sluttish, i.e., with a cock or two in her various holes, was a minute wasted. She hoped the next two months wouldn't be like the past few days.

He got off the elevator and heard a loud bass thum, thum, thum, sound. It was louder the closer he got to the apartment.

He was beginning to seethe when he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He boiled over when he walked in. It was loud in the apartment and it was filled with people. A red haired girl, not natural red, bottle scarlet, smiled at him and resumed talking to a tall thin guy with multiple facial piercings.

Someone had spray painted a design on the windows and carried the design over onto the wall to the right. Black and red spray paint with runs. There were twenty or so people in the room; it sounded like a live band was playing close by, maybe in the dining room.

The door bumped his back. He stepped aside. Five more people walked in. A short plump girl grinned at him and held up a handful of DVDs.

"You must be Dan," she shouted. He could barely hear her. "You'll want these." She shoved the DVDs into his hand and left him.

He dropped his book bag on the floor and flipped through the packages. More movies of Pixie, some with Keri it looked like. Someone pounded his shoulder and he looked up.

"Pixie said she'd give us all blowjobs when you got here." The dark-haired guy was earnest. He wore a black DK t-shirt with baggy gray pants. He was attempting to grow dreadlocks; he had a ways to go. "Well?"

He set the DVDs on the table by the door by an ashtray filled with roaches. He hoped pot was all they were doing. He followed the guy through the living room, past the band, a guitarist and a bass player standing on the dining room table. In their shoes of course. Past the kitchen filled with giggling girls, some of them cute, to the hall.

The girl standing in the hall slapped his guide and jerked Dan's wrist.

"This way you bastard. Your slut needs you," she yelled. He passed his guide holding his hand up to his cheek and grinning like he was in love. She led him into the bedroom, his parents' room, past the couple making out on the bed. Maybe they were done or just getting started; they had cast off most of their clothing. Into the bathroom where Pixie was bent over the toilet, vomiting.

"She's your slut, hold her head or something," the girl shouted. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She wore black boots, black miniskirt and corset. She was beautiful when she was angry.

"Is she giving blowjobs yet?" The eager guy stood behind her.

"Fuck off, Artie," she yelled. She pushed him out of the bathroom, following him and shutting the door behind her. The walls vibrated from the bass notes.

Pixie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled awkwardly at him, then turned back to the toilet. She fell to her knees and hugged the commode.

He leaned against the wall. "You feel like telling me what all this is?" he asked. With the door shut he could stand a few feet away and his shout would be heard.

"I'm sorry," she said moaning into the toilet. He couldn't hear her the first time so he had to kneel by her.

The toilet smelled foul, he flushed it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Like the party? You need to relax. You're all tensed up."

"You're sorry for what?"

"I can't give you a blowjob right now." She dry heaved. "You can fuck me if you want." She raised her bare ass and swung it in his direction.

He read the writing on her butt. "Slut holes," with two arrows. He shut his eyes for a moment, then stood. He looked at her for another moment then left.

Artie met him at the door. "Is she giving blowjobs yet?"

He shook his head. The couple on the bed were past making out. He tapped the kid taking off his clothes to join them. "You have to leave. Out. Now. I'm calling the police."

The kid looked at him in astonishment for a moment then raised his pants.

"All out," Dan yelled. "All of you." He walked to the kitchen. The beautiful girl was there with three other girls.

"She okay?"

"You all have to leave now. The party's over."

The girl gave a nod. "I'll help you."

It took a half-hour to clear most of the apartment. Dan went back to the bathroom. Artie was inside with Pixie.

"Out," Dan said.

"But she said she'd give us all blowjobs."

"Out."

Artie shook his head and left. Dan closed the bathroom door.

He knelt by Pixie who was sobbing over the toilet. He touched her shoulder. "You, too. Out."

She shook her head, she raised her head and looked at him. "I'm sorry. I thought the paint would come off."

"Out, Pixie. Go."

"Can't I stay? Please. I'll be good."

He shook his head. "You've ruined my life. Go. Please go."

She gave a slow nod. "You want a blowjob before I go? We can fuck."

He stood. "Please go." He left the bathroom.

Artie was waiting by the door. "She ready to give blowjobs yet?"

"She's ready," Dan said. "Only not here. Why don't you take her home with you?"

Artie stared at him.

He heard the toilet flush, then water run into the sink. Pixie came out a moment later red-eyed, a bit green in the face still. Some of the spray paint had landed on her right side, from her head down to her hip. He hadn't seen that before.

She gave him a smile, her lips trembling. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "Go."

She looked at Artie.

"I told Artie he could take you home with him. You can be his slut."

She shook her head. "That's okay."

Artie followed her out of the room.

He looked around at the disheveled bed, the tipped over beer can on the dresser, beer dripping onto the carpet, the cigarette stubs in one of his mother's bone china plates. He followed them to the door.

"That's it?" the beautiful girl asked.

He nodded. He watched Artie give Pixie his jacket and them leave. She was barefooted. He exhaled, shut the door and then yelled and kicked the wall. His shoe went through the plaster.

"I'll help you clean up," she said. "My name is Jane. Yours is Dan, right?"

He nodded, twisted his foot and pulled it out of the hole in the wall.

"You'll feel better if you clean up this place rather than sitting down and moping." She brushed her fingers across his sleeve. "I'll help you clean up. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

She gave him a bright smile and started to pick up. He went into the kitchen to find some garbage bags.

The crazy thing was he was sorry to see Pixie go. He worried about her. She wasn't that bad. He was afraid if she didn't leave he'd kill her at worst, hit her at best. He'd never felt like hitting anyone before. Not like this. He pulled several bags from the roll. His hands were shaking.

"Want me to strip like your slut?" Jane asked behind him.

He turned and stared at her smiling face. He shook his head.

"No?" She took two bags from his fingers. "Maybe later, then. After dinner, my treat." She gave him a wink and left the room.

She was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Keri, but beautiful nonetheless. More beautiful than Pixie. It was funny. He'd never thought of Pixie as beautiful before but she was.

He went into the living room to help Jane pick up. He saw the DVDs on the table by his books. He carried the books and DVDs into the computer room and began picking up there.

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