I just don't get it. Probably wouldn't like it if I did...
All I pick up from them is - gloating. Delighted, single-minded and ready to celebrate. Party. Not smug, especially. Definitely not mean... Wild. Too frisky. Untamed. If it isn't the cloth itself feelin' this way, which sounds preposterous even now, there must be a whole lot of... no, that ain't right.
Shit. Cloth, got me, gettin' all excited.
Sure.
No signs of... anybody... wearing 'em, though. They - well, when they crowd together someplace, it's clear there's no arms trailing behind 'em to get in the way. Like hands in gloves, but they're all empty. Just... uh, cloth.
They're not just happy. It's like... they're tweakin'. Maniacs.
For somethin' that can't really be happening, I sure can't budge. They got me strapped down tight. Too well. Can't move an inch - and without cuttin' off the circulation anywhere. They've done this before. Couldn't be spread out any... further. Exposed...
"Please!"
Pitiful... one last beg. I have never sounded this heartbreaking. Desperate. It just came out that way -
Any second now. Dammit. They're ready to go again. And stretching out this moment, the one before I'm apeshit again. Only two, out of, what, twenty? Where are the rest of 'em?
Oh fuck. They can't go after me again. I couldn't have sounded any more heartbreaking. I can't stand it, they must know how - oh, they gotta l-
No!
"Aawwagh!" My side... and my belly. I squirm, giggling now - sad. Raspy giggles. Can't they see -
They play hard. Fuckin' cuffs. I hate these straps, all taut...
I keep tryin' to move. Laughin', I can't laugh long enough, hard enough.
Gettin' me all warmed up. And then there'll be cool material around my feet soon. Teasing and squeezing. Fingers in my armpits, strokin' heavy down my ribs -
Hours. Hours and hours. Then water, and food... they'll watch me smoke a pack. Every drag bringing me closer - that much sooner to when they come down, takin' hold. Starting again.
Oh shit I just can't...
Is this the last one? There's one more left in the pack. Whew.
I smoke, getting more and more nervous. Same old stupid thoughts: they can't - I gotta get through to 'em - can't stand it. Not again.
I'm still strapped down. Stuck tight as ever. How many days?
A glove is rising. No. Checks the pack - crumpling it.
"No! C'mon -" The fucker angles over me, heading south.
"NO!" I find new energy to kick, like always. Snapping - shit, you'd think these straps couldn't take any more tugging.
Nothing.
Can't even rock side to side. This is ridiculous. Come and get it, you fuckin' bastards...
They can't -
I see another set of fingers making for -
No!
"Pleeeeeeze..." Not my feet. They can't! This is impossible...
Fingers zeroing in. Almost there. I try to flail, anything -
Fuck!
They... can't -
Light circles, tracing lines.
I tense up, and grin hard. Can't take this, the touch and that slippery - goin' nuts, still fuckin' berzerk. They -
Yelping. I sound like a seal. They're clinging now, strong and... heavy -
Fire racing up my legs. I have got to get my feet away from 'em.
Two dozen of 'em, I'd never make it to the window, pull off the boards they nailed over it - before they'd take me down. Can't slip these straps. Oh man, oh man, I gotta -
Spit out the cig... Laughin' like I mean it.
Now is all that matters. It's as bad as last night, the other nights -
Two more gloves are floating down. Landing.
I try to twist, and yank my arms loose...
Hooting.
Roar.
They bring me another 'Boro. Fuckin' can't be the last...
Antsy, but I force myself to lay still, don't take a drag 'cause it'll burn faster. Watching 'em.
All of 'em, circling over me. Rolling, flexing, slow and easy. Not two yards away from me. Cruising. How the fuck do I get outa here?
Midday sun making 'em shine real pretty. Puttin' on a big show, ain't they though.
It's hours 'til dark. Soon one of 'em will crumple the pack. The water bottle will be next, and I'm drinkin' no matter how much I squirm. It's pretty half-hearted fighting now, though. I forget and tug on the cig, holdin' in the smoke before I send it up their way.
Can't believe I'm... used to this -
Totally dreading it. Totally. Don't get me wrong. But... resigned to it?
Surrendered?
Two of 'em will get the kerchief and roll it up if they do what they did yesterday. I don't laugh as hard, but man - I feel it every bit as much. A gag. Shit.
Maybe one more minute left for this cig.
One on the bottom of each foot. One fuckin' with each set of toes. Top of my feet, my shins, above-knees and below-knees, inside thigh and top of thigh, hips and butt crack and crotch-hair, belly and breastbone and nipples and pecs, ribs and armpits, throat and neck and collarbones and triceps and biceps. And fingers. One last one playin' with my face, and I guess they take turns mopping up the sweat... and other messes.
05apr1997