October 13, 2009

• ('Fraid this still isn't an update on the Book. I will get something out by the next entry, I swear, unless you know how you want to extend the story already. This here is from another short story I have in the works, so it probably won't make entirely too much sense yet)

       I waved my hand in front of me as I laughed, trying to clear the smoky air. My company and I were near an opening flap on one of the sides of the tent, taking dinner. They had served us chicken that night, I remember. It wasn’t too bad, though they had served it with gravy; I’m not a fan of the stuff, but you didn’t really get a choice what you got anyway.

       I shifted my plate on the wooden table, a task which was hindered slightly by the bumpy and grooved grain of the wood. It was an old table, building gaps from the boards separating and containing knotholes. I rubbed my bare feet in the dewy grass and glanced every so often out the open flap toward the night sky. The moon was gorgeous, fully formed with stars speckling the deep black around it.

       My company was three elders of the establishment. In full unabashed fashion, the two women wore their robes open, both types of their genitals able to be seen. They had taken great care in maintaining them so that such displays wouldn’t leave them to shame. For women of their age, their breasts still carried themselves, the sinewy lines of development that were still discernable barely showed. I had to admit, there was a suppleness to one of the women’s creamy color illuminated by the firelight and the lighter ebony of the other’s milk chocolate areola that could still allure the senses and send the hands to an ache.

       Our laughter was quieting down, the amusement of the evening blatant still on everyone’s face. The woman to my left, who had avoided being placed within the sub-categories of Mature and was still far from that of Granny by the great care she took to keep up her looks (she had outright refused to be put to the MILF department, despite its increased popularity in recent years; her years of service to the establishment was all that gave her the leverage to make such a demand), wiped her eyes as she told us, “Though, really, I love the girl. She’s a pleasure to work with and is one of the few who makes it more than simply going through the motions. God knows, she adds a pleasure to the whole ordeal.”

       Robert, sitting across the table from me, nodded. He had his shirt off and his suspenders no longer lying on his shoulders, the straps hanging towards the ground. Accordingly, since his pants were made for the use of suspenders, they reached a little further up his belly than normal pants would.

       The woman on my right viewed him with a look of annoyance. She worked within the Interracial sub-category, though she held ambitions for the first floor. “Her character definitely remains unwavering. You can count on her, no matter the problem,” she added as an aside.

       Noticing who the comment was meant for, Robert sat up a little in his chair, the wooden construction creaking under him. He scratched the underside of his right breast and his stomach which flowed over the already sagging pants. “I know I’ve done some mischief,” he told her, a look of worry at how he possibly had offended her clear in his face, “but I’m so dull a puppy that I’m the son of a whore, if I know how, or where – prithee inform my understanding?” He had a moppish face, his hair somewhat soiled and clumping together as it came down on either side. He face was heavyset, seeming to drip and shake as he moved his head, so that his alarm at offending took a good deal of effort and strain.

       Her face softened at his concern. Used to his dominance and privilege, she made no move to hold him to his faults anymore. She shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she told him. “Last week, I had asked for you to talk to someone about seeing about my transfer; you know my impatience. And I do hold a grudge quite dreadfully.”

       Robert fell back into his slump in his chair, smiling weakly. “Ah, now I remember. I have, but he stays uninterested. He feels you’re better suited for your current department already.”

       She looked dejected, regardless. Robert leaned forward, resting a hand upon hers. “You’re gorgeous as far as I’m concerned,” he told her, his eyes dropping ever so quickly to her open robe and the fruit held within it for a moment.

       Flattered, she turned away before continuing the conversation. “You know who does get on my nerves? That new girl, Judy.”

       The woman to my left immediately sat up, the passion of agreement she displayed cracking the caking makeup she had put on just this morning. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one of that opinion,” she informed the rest of us. The woman to my right satisfyingly nodded.

       She had light scars, I remember: left over remarks from her breast implants. “The girl just revolts me. It’s not a wonder why she works the lower levels.”

       The woman on my left nodded intently. “With the look of her mug, you’d think she’d never’ve heard of acne cream.”

       “And how about her figure? Honestly, being heavyset for a girl is so unbecoming. It may just be chubby now, but you know where that path in life leads.”

       “I’d offer her some of my own shampoo to help with that hair of hers, if she didn’t make me think she’d be too lazy to bother even using it.”

       “Absolutely! Honestly, I heard she used to exercise but then gave up on it. Really, that’s a shame. What we do isn’t enough to be substituted for exercise.” With that, the two women started cracking up at the quip, the woman of the left of me raising a manicured hand to her lips as she chortled.

       I glanced across the table to Robert. He just cocked his eyebrows at me as someone who didn’t care all that much about a situation – and therefore didn’t quite understand why it was occurring – and just decided to go back to lazily eying the women sitting with us.

       I had heard of Judy. I had even seen her a couple of times, which was difficult. She didn’t show up in public much, which was odd. Granted, most of those who worked the under-levels had a very select choice of friends that they could make. Judy instead preferred the dark corners of the labyrinth that was this tent. She rarely made eye contact, unless she had to. And when she did, it was a fierce fury which drove most to happily stay away from her. She was always scribbling into a notepad, unaware of all else which was going on around her. And you’d think she’d be miserable, with what others said about her and her distance from everyone, yet she seemed completely enraptured in whatever it was she was doing. She didn’t look happy but content.

       You’d hear about brawls, occasionally, that she’d have gotten herself into. Usually she was just reading or drawing and someone decided to tell her their opinion of her. There’d be some shrieks of her unladylike manner, which came as a surprise to no one. They were downright comical, the fights. This slightly large girl pouring all of Hell into a provoked retaliation, unrelenting and demanding in her terms.

       My head goes light to this day: she was absolutely gorgeous.

  XXX

  I still honestly believe that you can find the meaning of life in a story. Really, I write because without some form of art (music, drawing, etc. etc.) I would cease to exist. Dunno if this new story of mine will be welcomed warmly come its finish.

  • 1:30 am
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