September | 2011 | Randomly Accessed Poetics

‘Killer’s Kid Finds Foot.’ I could just imagine the headlines if someone found out, it would be a great story, but I had a responsibility I couldn’t shirk. I felt bad for messing up his uniform, but words weren’t working, so I had to try a visual.

It was a lovely, sunny day; the sky’s blue almost white this early in the morning and the few clouds went on their way, late for a date with yesterday’s storm. I was standing before the reception desk at the Port Angeles’ Police Station and the young man in a very crisp uniform stared at me. There wasn’t that much to stare at. I was about five nine, and a little jiggly here and there, but mainly in the right places. My hazel eyes stared back out of a face lightly freckled with the sun and I tried again.

“I have a foot in my bag,” I said. I was getting a little bit annoyed. I had come to the seaside town to enjoy the beach and I didn’t want to spend all my time at the police department.

“I have a foot in my bag,” I said for the third time. This time I put the emphases on foot and said it just a little louder in case it would help him to understand. At least this time I got a reaction. He glanced over the counter at my feet. So what could I do? I heaved a sigh and the bag to the counter. I opened it so he could see inside and said once more, “I’ve got a foot in my bag.”

That was when he threw up all over his crisp black uniform. The officers got a little excited after that, but as I explained in the back room, I found the foot floating in the tide when I took my sunrise walk on the beach off the City Pier and since it clearly wasn’t the crime scene, there was no point in leaving it there for a child to find. Fortunately I had some doggie doo bags with me to pick up interesting finds on the beach. I guess I’d found one.

They asked me for my name. I gave them the one I use and showed them my I.D., and my employee badge for the State Psychiatric Hospital where I worked on a ward as a nurse. I was nearing 30 and I had come to see how I wanted to die.

I had an aggressive form of bone cancer. The doctors wanted to take my leg and give me chemo. It might work, it might not, and they have might have to chop off more. There was an experimental treatment trial open. My doctor had told me about it as we walked down the corridor for sugar and coffee in the cafe. It was his standard operating procedure for breaking the news. He walked with one hand grasping the other wrist behind his back. It helped him avoid putting his arms around his patients. He was a very sympathetic doctor and didn’t want to offend. He told me that the new treatment would save my leg, but my insurance wouldn’t pay for it. Like I’ve told my friend Donna many times, I feel like I’m a hostage to private insurance.

They would kill me for free, though. I could stop treatment and choose death, they would pay for that prescription, but they wouldn’t pay for me to choose life, long and whole. That was the frosting on this particular pineapple upside-down cupcake. The cherry on top was that there was already a lot of death in my family; my father was killed when I was seven. Most said good riddance and I always wondered why my mom married him. He was already marked for death when she did. Maybe I was supposed to be his legacy. But how much is one life worth, anyway? How much should someone pay for it? Is it worth the cost to ransom me? I had to wonder how many others might live if I accepted death. I could go through all this and be gunned down anyway. It’s an uncertain world. My landlord at the Scarsdale Apartments was still picking out bullet fragments from our entrance after Jean’s argument with her lover Herman. I could get hurt by a patient, or if life wanted to try sick irony, I could even die at the hands of a serial killer. A lot of people would think there was cosmic justice in that. I wouldn’t, but then, that’s just me.

I asked the police if they had any missing persons. They weren’t saying, but someone mentioned the possibility of a boating accident. I could only hope.

“Where can we reach you if we have any questions?” They asked, finally.

I told them how to find me and they let me go. On my way I prayed sincerely the press wouldn’t find the skeleton in my closet. I really can’t be finding severed body parts with a name like mine. If they discovered my birth certificate, they would say I was my father’s daughter and life as I knew it would be over. I try and keep it hidden, but it’s all over the web and in print, there was even a movie. You can’t hide from death when your father’s name is Theodore Robert Bundy.

Carla Blaschka’s greatest achievements are taking 24 years to complete her B.A. degree in Theology, a record anywhere, and an hour and a half to write a complete story out of random parts gleaned from her favorite newspaper, the Stranger. A mild-mannered office worker by trade, Carla stories first came to life on stage at Richard Hugo House’s open mic, and then graced the stage at Seattle’s Poetry Slam and The Faire Gallery & Cafe. Carla has always seen the world through her hands, discovering the story to be told only after it’s scribbled on paper. She lives in Seattle with the memories of her cats, and in anticipation of the one to come.

Prompts:

in Plain View

Challenge from The Stranger July 9-15, 2009, Vol 18, No 43

Theme: Man with identity hidden, foot in bag. Cover art by Danny Snell

Location: Mental Hospital (pg 34)

Plot Point: Pulled bullet fragments out of a wall (pg 11)

Quote: “I feel like I’m a hostage to private insurance” by Jody Hall, owner of Cupcake Royale. From “Is Maria Cantwell a Puppet for the Senate Finance Committee?” by Eli Sanders (pg 11)

Rhetorical Element: Cupcakes (pineapple upside-down) (ad, pg 10)

Character Trait: Walks with one hand clasping wrist behind back (Bauhaus People)

I wanted to spice up our love life. No, really it is our sex life I am concerned about. It is the same each and every time. I want to make him hot for me again. I want to make us hot for each other again. When we first dated we couldn’t take our eyes or hands off of each other. We had sex in the car or in public places. I don’t know when we stopped being young and having fun. However, it’s time to craft a plan to bring back sexual fun and desire.

I set my plan in motion on a Friday morning. While Carlos was in the bathroom taking his shower I went over to his blazer and placed a note in the pocket. I also turned on his cell phone. He always had his cell phone off at work and never bothered to check it anymore.

Since Carlos was still in the shower and I was still nude and very horny I slipped into the bathroom quietly. Noticing he was washing his hair most likely with his eyes closed, I stepped into the tub and knelt down. It was so nice, his soft cock lay in my mouth and I sucked it as the water poured down on me. He almost jumped when he felt my tongue on him.

Startled, he smiled and said, “How long has it been?”

As he became hard I replied with my mouth full of his cock, “Too long.”

Soon I heard him groaning and yelling “Oh My God!” as he came in my mouth. We cleaned up, he got dressed for work and before he left he gave me a slow lingering kiss.

“Thank you for this morning, Alexandria. It has been far too long.” His smile was wide as he grabbed his keys off of the kitchen counter, opened the door and closed it behind him. Outside he sighed, then continued smiling all the way to work.

As Carlos sat in his second meeting of the day he sighed. He still had another meeting, when would today be over and when would the weekend begin. He placed a hand into his blazer pocket searching for something to take his mind away from these thoughts. He felt a piece of paper folded up. Hmmm… I didn’t put this here did I? He slid forward and to the side a bit as he took out the paper to read it.

“Give your penis satisfaction, as you yell I am cumming! Our orgasms happen at the same time, mine ripples through my pussy and I moan in ecstasy.” The Dominatrix Carlos coughed, almost choking. He curled up the paper stuffing it back into his pocket and grabbed his water bottle.

“Are you okay?” Several co-workers asked.

Carlos cleared his throat and took one last sip of water. “I am okay, really. Please continue.”

He sounded so professional even to himself yet his insides were jumping and he could feel his cock was stiffening. He squirmed a bit in his seat trying to think about boring things until he got back to his office. Finally his body settled down, the meeting was over and he was able to get back to his office and sit down. Instead of sitting down it was more like collapsing into his leather chair and letting out a big sigh at the same time.

He picked up his office phone and dialed home. It rang a couple of times and she finally answered. “Alexandria, what was the meaning of this?” He asked her with a hint of annoyance in his tone. He knew she understood what he meant.

“Carlos, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Come clean, you placed that note in my pocket.” He said.

“I honestly don’t know what you are talking about. Someone else must have placed it there.” I said innocently.

“Well, we will talk about this when I get home tonight.” Carlos promised.

“You must promise to tell me what was in the note.”

“I got to go, my next meeting is in 15 minutes and I have to get ready. I love you, Alexandria.”

“I love you too Carlos.”

He hung up the phone and busied himself pulling papers together and stuffing them in a folder. He tried not to think of the note and the way it made his cock hard. Sure she put the note there. Who was she fooling? He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. He admitted it was bold and unexpected and sexy. Carlos shook his head clearing his sexual thoughts and picked up the folder and a pad of paper. He reached in his pocket to make sure his pen was in there, as he did so his fingers touched the note. He sighed and left the room.

As the meeting droned on he found himself bored. They had boxed lunches and he tried to focus on what the sales manager was saying. It wasn’t his department so it was even harder to care what was being said.

Carlos felt a vibration against his thigh. Great, he apparently forgot to turn his cell off this morning. He shifted in his seat, slid his phone out and hit the instant message button. He read the following and again choked from shock. “I am wet and waiting for you. If you don’t like what I do, you can spank me and then I will return the favor. I will make you cum harder than you have ever thought possible. Don’t make me wait too long…” Dominatrix Shit! He could instantly feel his cock harden and he had a coughing attack. “Carlos, are you alright?” His manager asked. “I just need some water.” He reached for the water bottle, opened it and managed to get some down.

His mind was developing all sorts of sexual fantasies and he knew he needed to get out of this meeting and fast, his only problem his raging hard on. He slipped his phone into his pants pocket, squirmed a bit in his chair and began thinking of baseball scores, of snotty nosed kids, and even about his parents. Finally, his cock softened and he felt relieved.

He began coughing again and finally his manager said, “You are excused from the rest of the meeting. And Carlos, for God’s sake, do something about that cough!” Looking a bit sheepish he gathered his things, got up out of his chair and left the room.

Once in his office, he sighed and then smiled wickedly. He was free; he could leave early! So without hesitation he grabbed his briefcase threw the folder in there, closed it up and grabbed his keys off of the desk. He turned off the light, and left his office. On his way out, he told his assistant, “I am out the rest of the day. If anyone calls I will be back in on Monday.” “Ok. Have a good weekend!” She yelled down to him as he stepped on the elevator. “I will!” he yelled back.

Once out of the elevator he walked into the parking garage finding his car quickly. He got in the car and before leaving, pulled his phone out of his pocket. He read the instant message again and his cock hardened immediately. He quickly sent a reply, “Dominatrix, I am on my way. I am ready for whatever you have planned.” He simply signed it “Your Sex Slave”. He threw the phone on to the passenger’s seat, turned on the engine and laughed. He knew this would be the best weekend he had in years!

Sweet Cheeks has been writing erotica for five years, but this is not all she writes. You can read more of her at Shazza’s Bedroom. Further, Ms Cheeks was also a contributor of the 2011 Austin International Poetry Festival; her poem, Purple Passion, was published in the festivals anthology