Marcus had just arrived back from a long hard day of hawking his wares on the mean streets of Detroit. He grinned then sighed as he thought about coming home to the woman that he loved, a nice warm shower, and a bite to eat. Marcus quietly unlocked the door, and as he turned the knob to his hotel room he thought; “Yes, I am one lucky son of a bitch, a great day of sales, a roof over my head, and a pretty lil’ lady waiting for me at home.”
However, just when Marcus entered the tiny one bed roomed apartment, he noticed the feet of a stranger protruding out the bottom portion of the bed covers, his smile faded quickly as it had arrived, and his jaw dropped disbelievingly to the floor. In between the passions that Doris was still in the process of felling, and the buzz of the cocaine that was casually being snorted, she moaned and briefly opened her eyes.
As Marcus’s expressions changed from anger, to grief, to rage, his face turned a bright shade of red. “Doris!” Marcus frantically yelped, “what have you got to say for yer self?!!” As Marcus ranted on, Doris’s body contorted, growing momentarily rigid. Marcus stared in pure disbelieve, Doris let out whine of sheer pleasure and her vaginal area exploded in ecstasy into Johnny’s face. Marcus’s eyes began to well up, as he picked up his small narcotics filled suitcase, that never left his side, and made his way to the front door. Doris was still to caught up in the moment of her orgasm to reply, much less comfort the distraught Marcus.
Marcus turned, glaring at Doris and her still covered, and now very still mystery guest, and shouted “That’s it! I’m outta here!” “You and that fuck head coward under the covers can have each other for all I fucking care!” As Marcus stormed to the door slamming it violently behind him, the noise and Marcus’s violent screams pounded Doris’s ear drums like a jack hammer for a few moments, but the noise didn’t seem to faze her much at all.
Doris giggled manically as she rolled back over and continued to finish snorting her remaining lines of cocaine, after she was done, she ejected the dinner tray, razor, and the mini straw from her weathered hands onto the stained carpet floor beneath. Just then, Johnny sheepishly emerged from beneath the tattered covers and said “Well wha’cha think? Was I good or what?” Still giggling, Dorris took a deep drink from the fifth of whiskey on the side table drawer and replied “Well I’ve had better young fella, I’ve had better.” Offended, Johnny snatched the whiskey from Dorris and retorted, “What the hell do ya mean? You had better?
©L. Wayne Russell
photo© Eva Rubinstein, 1979
Wayne has been published in various zines over the years, including The Cannon’s Mouth Quarterly, The Rolling Thunder Press, and Staxtes Greek Literary Review via their “English Wednesdays” Internet Zine. Wayne can be reached via his Facebook page.