Playmate Of The Month

Yay, Halloween story time again!  (The "Halloween Story Time" theme song plays, screaming kids go apeshit, there's a lot of crazed horn-honking for some reason).

This story's kinda I-dunno.  There's things I like about it, things I know are in the way but I can't seem to make myself kill-my-darlings about because I'm a stubborn and angry fanatic, and things that I'm not sure will work or not.  YOU be the judge!  You'll either love it, or you'll hate it, or you'll think it's okay.  If you think I'm goofy at the end of it, then, perhaps, I'm goofy.  Not my favorite thing I ever wrote, but you can only do so much revising before it just turns into picking-at-it-and-then-it'll-get-infected, so, here it goes.  In any case, it should be entertaining enough, with that smartass girl in it.

And, as always, there's a LOT of this kind of thing on the blog, and some's better, so please browse heavily and remember that constructive feedback is extremely welcome -- it's the only payment any of us get for this stuff, so don't be shy.  Stay tuned to this space, because KickerOfElves may have another story up by the end of the month.  If I un-lazy myself enough, I may revise one I've got, too.

Meantimes, here's a handy list o' further adventures in literary buttkickin', all free of charge.

My stuff:
And little descriptions of actual nightmares I’ve had


                                       PLAYMATE OF THE MONTH

When they entered his apartment and he got his first look at Heidi in true light instead of the stylishly-divey dimness of Ye Olde Waterin’ Hole, Pete had to choke back an “oh my god.”  She was even better than he’d thought, moving straight from hottie to the maybe-the-prettiest-girl-I’ve-ever-seen category.   Already making notes in his head about how he wanted to describe her when he bragged about this on his YouTube channel, he started conniving means to get trophy pics.  No one would ever believe him otherwise; she was a proof-needed girl.

Heidi was tall, slim, almost spindly, but with just a magnificent ass.  Underperforming a bit in the tit department, yes, but that face, oh dear god that face could make him forgive anything.  Semi-hippie-girl hair hung straight to the bottom of her ribcage, brown, but the bright light of his apartment was picking out flows of honey in the midst.   Her eyes were green but there were drops of honey there, too, splashes of molten gold on jade.  Her nose was small, cutely just-enough-pugged, and she had a soft pink gently-triangular mouth that spread into a drowsy smile around perfect teeth.  “Wow, I like your apartment.  So tidy!”  she said.  Her voice had even more honey in it, with a slight raspy purr that tickled inside his head, warm and rich and thickly sweet.

Goddamn hot-hot-HOT.

“I try to keep it that way, but it’s a battle,” Pete said, one of the first non-lies he’d spoken tonight.  He had a natural inclination to be lazy and messy but one of his YouTube gurus had a big “clean your room” law for young men, and Pete was trying to follow the rules of success to the letter.  His father – a weak man who his mom was always chasing off -- hadn’t taught him much, so when he entered his twenties he’d started working hard at playing catch-up from fathers-of-choice he’d hunted down.   The conquest of Heidi was to be part of his revised manhood.

He led her into his kitchen, poured a bowl full of pretzel sticks and slid it across the counter toward her, then took out the good brandy snifters he’d special-ordered.  Gold-rimmed.  A cultured man has cultured things, Heidi would think.  

“My apartment’s such a mess, I’m such a slob,” Heidi said, slipping onto a stool and folding those crazy long legs one over the other.  The friction of fishnetted leg-on-leg yanked at something in his chest, made him ache.  My god, my god, he wanted that friction around his waist, his neck, it didn’t matter.

“I doubt that.  You don’t look like any kind of slob,” he said, taking out a bottle of brandy he really couldn’t afford.  “Like, not at all, actually.”

“I am, though.  You should see me eat.  I need two bibs, one for the back.”  She rolled those eyes,  spread a lazy smile, and poked a lucky pretzel stick into it.  He uncapped the brandy and she pushed her snifter away.  “None for me, thanks.  You already got me to your apartment, dude, no sense wasting that high-dollar poonshine on me.”

Pete laughed, shocked at the bluntness of her terminology.  Pushing the glass away had looked like some kind of chess move he wasn’t sure how to counter.  “I’d hardly consider it wasted,” he said.

She gave him another smirky smile and shrugged, then nibbled another pretzel.

“Hey, what’s your last name again?”  Pete asked, pouring himself some brandy.  “I didn’t catch it back at that noisy club.”

“Maybe ‘cuz I didn’t throw it,” she said.   “But it’s Stankbox.”

Pete blurted a laugh, and Heidi cinched her eyes at him and pouted her lips, teasingly indignant.

“Are you laughing at my name and heritage, sir?  Don’t force me to challenge you to a duel.  Or a triple, if there’s time.”   She raised an eyebrow, squinted one eye.

“You’re kidding, right?  Jesus Christ!   Nobody’s named Stankbox,” he laughed.  He was a little nervous, realizing Heidi was weirder than he’d been trained to handle.  Back at the club she’d seemed giggle-dumb and passive, and now this?

“Except for Mortimer Stankbox, poor lonesome bastard that he was,” Heidi said, shaking a pretzel stick at him.   “Yes, dear lad, I am kidding.  You see, not only am I quite pretty, I am hi-larry-yuzzzz.”   She made a show of biting the pretzel in what he found to be a suggestive manner.

“So, what’s your last name for real?” he laughed.

“My last name for real doesn’t matter at this point in time,” she sighed.   “If things go well and there’s fun-fun-fun, then we’ll worry about such things.   For the record, until and unless I end up liking you, your name’s Peter Whogivesashit.  And if it goes real bad, we’ll even lose the Peter after a week.  Your name, I mean, not your peter-peter.  Heaven forbid.”   She looked at his reaction, then laughed.  “Settle down, I’m not a psycho or anything.   I am a little awful, though, I guess.  Anyway, I bet that was a rough name to grow up with, boys being how they are.  With only your friend Dick giving you any peace.”  She flashed her eyes and smirked.

Pete forced himself to laugh but he didn’t like this much.  Heidi was too challenging and was wresting control of the situation from him, and that was not part of his adopted style.   He considered asserting himself a bit but that might not work on Heidi, who had far too much self-confidence for his taste.  If she walked out  he’d have to jerk off about her and that’d be humiliating, plus he’d get no video brag out of it, at least not a truthful one.   He didn’t have much experience with this but supposed some girls were more work than others.  He’d have to play it cooler than he felt.

“Is Heidi your real name, at least?”

He had to take a laugh for an answer.

 “Well, anyway, I like a direct girl,” he lied, then sipped the brandy.  It didn’t taste a hundred dollars better than the kind he’d previously bought.  Most of the cost was in the reputation, he supposed.  He wished she’d at least try some, perhaps be impressed, help him out.

“You’ll love me, then,” she said, folding her hands and resting her chin on them, looking hard at him with crinkle in the corner of her eyes.  “My filter is buh-roke!   I’m direct as a cruise missile, baby.”  She drew an arc in the air with her hand and whistled then boomed.  “Want an example?”

He half-laughed.  “I don’t know, do I?”

“Take a risk,” she whispered.  “Win a prize.”

“A’ight.  Shoot me.”

“Okay,” Heidi said, breathed deep, smiled, and said, “You think girls don’t watch those pick-up artist videos, don’t you?”

A chill went through him.  He’d been clumsy and now he was caught.  And she was, indeed, direct.  Would she be kind enough to let him weasel out?   Probably not.  He wasn’t sure how to counter this.  “Huh?  What do you mean?”  

She rolled her eyes.  “Oh, come on, don’t blow it by lying after I gotcha!   I’m here, right?  Even though I knew?   That means I don’t caaarre.   But if you treat me like I’m dumb, I might get insulted and pack up my pussy and go home.”

“Well, don’t do that,” he said, leading her back into the living room, hoping a change of venue might turn things.  He was getting weirded out by the whole thing, shocked by what she was saying, confused.  There’d been a plan for this and it had been torpedoed.   

“Yeah, that’d suck, huh?”  Heidi grabbed the pretzel bowl and threw herself onto the couch and laughed at him, which he really didn’t like, but he had to play this right.  Vulnerability was a bad move with the female, he’d been told, but maybe he could do some kind of tai chi, salvage this lay.  

“Okay, I guess I did watch a few, just for some help, y’know.  Is it really that obvious?”

She widened her eyes and nodded with tight-lipped teasing grimness.  “I could practically see you checking off the boxes in your head, dude-bro.  This-move-builds-on-that-move-and-part-A-intersects-with-part-B-and-then-pussy!  Flow chart!”

“Well, damn,” he laughed.  His face felt hot and he hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Don’t feel bad.  I thought it was cute.  I mean, I’m here, right?  I don’t mind game players.  I like playing, too.  I especially like being a prize.   But I just don’t want you thinking I’m stupid.  Don’t think you’re fooling me into what I want to do anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said.  “If I ever did, I don’t anymore.”

“Good boy,” she purred.  There was a polished wooden box on the end table and she lifted the lid and looked in.  “Humidor.  You smoke cigars?”

He decided to keep trying honesty as a tactic, since he was already caught anyway.  “Not really.  But I bought all the stuff before I found that out.  Please have one if you like?”

She poked out her tongue and made a face.  “Not hardly.  Cigars taste like late-stage tuberculosis.  So, did you think you should be into cigars ‘cuz all those big-shot manly-mans on YouTube are always puffing ‘em so smugly?”

“Well, something like that, I guess.”  Pete was getting a little angry – and a little afraid – at being figured out, but he was also intrigued, and he really wanted to fuck her.  If this was a contest, he could still win by being used-in-return.  Heidi might be wise but also seemed to be down with it, no bitchy feminist. 

“And you aspire to smugness, too.  It’s okay.  Everybody’s trying to find their way.  Just…”   She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and dug at the corner of her mouth with a finger, thinking, then stared at him intently.  “Just don’t put so much stock in what some buttholes on YouTube say about things.  They don’t have magic knowledge, you know.  Anybody can put up those videos, they don’t know any more than you do, most of the time.  They just present bullshit confidently, convince you you’re incomplete, then sell you the spare parts so they can have little copies of themselves around.  That way they don’t have to be the only dorky asshole.  Nobody leads anyone else for their benefit, you know, it’s always the head of the snake that gets all the glory.  And they do it all for ‘likes.’  Likes.  Which is already pitiful dog-showing-its-belly business.”

“You could be onto something there,” he said, fighting the impulse to defend his instructors’ honor, but afraid he’d lose and screw up his chance to get laid.

“Like that mig-tow shit.  Em-gee-tee-oh-dubya, ‘Men Going Their Own Way.’  Oh no!  What’ll us girls do?”  She stared at him with mock horror that melted into a grin.  “You realize that’s basically being gay without committing to the sex-with-other-guys part, yeah?  Those dudes want all their real relationships to be with other men, while just using us dumb girls for sex… and even that’s mostly just so they can tell other men they did it.  Sex with another guy, once removed.  The girl’s just a conduit and the red pill’s just another drug that supplies a different set of illusions.  Mig-tow might just be ‘muh-buh’ – Men Being Herded.   And that’s about the dumbest noise in the world, ‘muh-buh.’   You can barely say it without drooling.  ‘Muh-buuuhhhh.’  Sound of a sheep going onto a hook.”  She giggled, watching his reactions intently, obviously trying to trigger him.

He shrugged, not knowing what to say.  She knew too much about him without even knowing him, and it made him nervous.  Mostly he resented it.  He wanted to be mysterious, hard to figure out, and she’d taken his ego and pantsed it.  Now he just wanted it not to get worse.

Heidi laughed.  “You’re getting mad.  You want to fuck, not get a lecture, huh?”

“Well…”  He shrugged and smiled.  Anger wrestled desire, lost.  

“Maybe if I recorded it and uploaded it you’d sit through it.  Maybe if I intercut shots of Joe Rogan looking like a befuddled dope.”  She made a Joe Rogan face that was so accurate he had to laugh despite his annoyance, then she nibbled another pretzel.  “It’s okay, sweetie.  It’s even okay that you’re doing your lifting wrong and it’s giving you titties.”  She hooked thumbs under her own and gave them a peepshow jiggle.

“Hey now…” he said, laughing.  His face burned again.

She smiled.  “Sorry, I go too far and get bitchy.  It’s why men start going their own way in the first place, isn’t it?  Bitchy girls.  I’m sorry.  I’m just teasin’.  Don’t worry, I’ll make putting up with me worth it.”

“How?  You gonna paint my house?”  He smiled so she’d think he was teasing too.

“Oooo-hoo, was I that bad?  I’m not that mean, am I?”

“Nah, I’m just playing.  Two can, you know.”

“Good!  I like playing!”   Heidi sat up, scratching herself.   He realized she’d been doing that a lot.  That was a sign of nerves, he thought.  The knowledge that maybe she wasn’t as cool as she was playing it relaxed him a bit.  “I have a game I think you’ll like.  You want to play?”

“Is it going to end up with us in bed?”  

She laughed.  “Absolutely!  That is what I’m here for, even though I’m being difficult about it.  I’m not stupid, even though I’m cute enough to be.  I just want a little respect, y’know?”

“You have that,” he said.  “Shot my game right down, but I still like you.”

“You have to,” Heidi said, rolling her eyes and shrugging.  “I am adorable!”  She hugged herself, digging at her back.

“Yeah, I’m kinda picking up on that,” he said.  She made him nervous, but it was a delicious kind of nervous.  It was out of control but still seemed to be headed in the direction he’d planned. 

“So.   What I want to play is hide-and-seek,” she said, rubbing her legs, making him crazy.

“Isn’t that kind of a kid’s game?”

“Not the way Heidi F. Stankbox plays it!”  She threw her arms up in a cheerleader pose.  “Heidi-seek.  You’ll love it, promise.  Humor me!”

“This isn’t a trick where you’ll run off and leave me looking stupid, is it?”

Heidi pouted and held up three scout’s-honor fingers with one hand while drawing an X on her chest with the other.  She raised an eyebrow and drew two more X's, then winked.

“Okay, I think you’re worth a gamble.”

Heidi got up and ran a finger under his jaw, tilted his chin up, and leaned in almost close enough to kiss him.  “Oh, I am,” she whispered.  He got a good look at the honey swimming in those eyes and the purr in her voice sent a twinge to his groin.  She had a few light honey-colored freckles, and her scent was yet more honey, cocktailed with a mad swirl of supernova pheromones.  If it was perfume whoever invented it ought to be a goddamned billionaire.  God god god, hot hot hot, afuckingtomic.  He was deliciously intimidated, and a little dazed. 

“I’m going to call you Honey,” he said.

“You can call me anything except tomorrow if you’re no good tonight.”  She flashed a smile that was a little crazy.  “Now gimme your shirt.”

“Why?” he laughed.

“So I can see them jugs, Ah-nuld!  No, no.  Because you’d look even sillier with your underpants tied around your head, goofus.  We need a blindfold.”

“What about I just promise to keep my eyes shut?”

She sighed.  “Boys who play pick-up artist games don’t get to use the honor system.  If you cheat, deal’s off.  If you don’t cheat…”   She leaned in and whispered, “…we fuck like da bunnies!”

“God damn,” he laughed, unbuttoning his shirt.  “You are off the hook!”

Heidi put one hand on her outthrust hip and examined the nails of the other.  “I get more shirts off of boys with that line.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he laughed.

“Works way better than my old approach, which was ‘gimme your shirt or I’m gonna fart!’”

He laughed hard.  “You are a trip, Heidi Whateveryourdamnnameis.”

“Yup.  Trippy-trip-trip.  Said the Billy Goat Gruff.  Or was that the troll?  Did he eat the goats?  I would’ve.  Mmm, goats.”

He slipped the shirt off and tossed it to her.  “Think you’re so bad, don’tcha?”

“Only if you ain’t got no kryptonite, son.  Now, face the wall.  Time to play Heidi-seek.”  She twirled the shirt, making a long thick strip of it, biting her lip.   Feeling silly, Peter faced the wall and Heidi slipped behind him and put the shirt over his eyes, then knotted and cinched it, too hard.  “Now count out loud to six hundred.”

“Six hundred?!”

“I don’t know your apartment!   I need time to find a good place.  I don’t half-ass it when I play hide and seek, dude.  I whole-ass it.”

“It’s an apartment, though, not Nebraska!   Jesus, six hundred!

“Six hundred.  Out loud, so I know you aren’t cheating.  It’ll be worth it.  C’mon, trust the pretty girl you never saw before who won’t tell you her last name.”

He laughed.  “You’re making this sound really attractive, and like a totally smart thing for me to do.”

Her voice whispered in his ear.  “Like da bunnies. Oh, fink uff da bun-NEEEEZZZZZ, Pee-tor!”

He breathed deep of her scent, held it in like a toke, reluctantly let it out. “I repeat, you are a trip, Heidi.”

“Oh, darlin’, you just have no idea.  I am a black-ice psychedelic nightmare.  But you gotsta know, huh?  Huh?  Don’tcha huh?”

Pete sighed.  “God, I am an idiot.”

“Your dick is an idiot, and you’re listening to it.  Because it’s being so loud right now.  I handed the lil’ fella a megaphone.  He’s hollerin’ ‘C’mon, Pete, let’s go!’   How you gonna have any fun if you’re smart all your life? This will be fun, I swear to god.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yep.  I bet you actually end up liking me.”

“Okay then, if you swear to God.”

“Ha!  Next time you should check that the girl’s not an atheist.”  

Pete shook his head and laughed.  “If I hear the door to the apartment open, deal’s off.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, sweetie.   I play weird but I play straight.  Besides, I’d be cheating myself of something I really want.  Now, one, two…”

“Okay, three, four…” he said.  Heidi giggled, clapped, and scampered off somewhere in the house.

Pete started feeling really stupid well before two hundred but he kept thinking of those legs rubbing on each other when she sat, and her scent, and he kept calling out numbers.  He could hear her moving around the house, giggling.  He wondered if she were trashing the place and escaping through a window.  If she wasn’t so goddamned motherfucking hot he’d never put up with even half of this.  He was going to leave a lot of this out when he told it to his camera for YouTube.  He considered himself an alpha male but sitting with a shirt tied around his head counting for pussy was decidedly beta-cuck bullshit.  If he got to fuck her he’d be more than redeemed, though, so he kept counting.  Three hundred, three-fifty, four.  He’d never get there.

But he did.  “Six hundred!  Okay, ready or not, here we both come!” he said, and pulled the shirt off his face and turned around.

One of Heidi’s black pumps was hanging from his ceiling fan pull-chain, the spike heel hooked through the pull-ring.

Another shoe was on the stairs.  A fishnet hose draped the bannister.

He smiled, heading up the stairs, finding her blouse at the top of them.

He peeked into another room, found her flirty little skirt.  He hadn’t realized how light the thing was, hardly more than a scarf.  He imagined that ass, unskirted.   He gave the room a quick search.  No Heidi, but there was a little black lace bra behind the door. 

“Okay, well played,” he laughed.  “I really want to find you now!”

Further down the hall, black silk panties, trimmed in lace, high-cut like Victoria’s best-kept secret, not much bigger than a candy wrapper.  “God damn, girl,” he breathed.  The other fishnet stocking draped the bedroom’s doorknob.  “You aren’t good at hiding, leaving a trail like this.  It’s like you want to be found.”

In the bedroom, impossibly, he found one more article.   At first he thought it was some kind of nightgown, maybe a slip, an ivory-white gossamer thing.  He picked it up and long strands of brown hair, honey where the light swam through it, rained down from it.

“What the hell?  What is this?” he gasped.  It was impossible, but he knew exactly what it was.

Heidi’s skin.  No longer beautiful, shed like a husk, split up the back and shucked.

He’d wanted to touch that skin all night and now he tossed it away with a sickened squeak.

Numb shock overwhelmed him and shut him down.

“They never look at the ceiling.”

Heidi’s voice came from behind and above and was full of giggles.  There was a chitinous skritch of something strange moving, and her voice, with all the honey leached out of it and replaced by buzz rasped, “Playtime!”  And then a thunderous whir of alien wings as the Heidi thing swept down onto him, raging with lust.

She ate his eyes before he even got a good look at what she’d become, and he was soon grateful since it spared him having to watch the rest of what she did.

                                                                   THE END


(C) Copyright 2018 by me so don't be a thievin' asshole

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