deepundergroundpoetry.com
Eva (by night)
She pops a piece of Juicy Fruit in her mouth while keeping her eyes on the road......this is the part she hates the most. The drive....long and boring, anticipating the strange man she will meet on the other side of the door..and she can't even smoke. She listens to her CD's and makes up little stories
about the random drivers sharing the road with her until she arrives at the
hotel. She laughs at the word "luxury" on the marquis as she examines
the peeling paint and water stains on the aging stucco. She breezes
past the reception desk without even a glance; she doesn't need to
look, she can sense the meaning in the once over given her by the night
clerk. It used to bother her, and she used to pretend she was there on
legitimate business, but she isn't green anymore, and is pretty much
numb to everything the job entails.
It is a smoking room, thank God, and she studies him critically as he answers the door, a little too eagerly. She knows at once she can let her guard down, this one is
looking for a "girlfriend experience." The ones you have to worry about
are looking for the "porn star experience"...they like to tie you up
and gag you and slap you in the face...she can feel the seething hatred
well up in her chest and she swallows it down...and dazzles the schmuck
with her smile.
She sits down next to him on the tacky, hotel-issue duvet and he pours her a glass of Shiraz. He seems impressed with her articulate way of speaking, as they usually are. "I wonder what kind of meth-ravaged boneheads these guys are accustomed to seeing" she wonders as she remembers to laugh at all the right places in the poor sap's mundane story, stealthily glancing at the clock every time he takes a drink...she always WAS good at multi-tasking. It is only a two hour
date and she doesn't intend on staying over, so she kicks off her black
pumps and starts rubbing his knee through his tan wrinkle-resistant
Dockers. Ugh....this one likes to kiss. She thwarts him as best as she
can and lets him kiss her neck...her breasts...her stomach...and so on
and so forth. This is the part she likes the best, when the only part
of this strange pathetic man to violate her is his mouth, and she
doesn't even have to fake the release that comes quickly. But of course
he must have his needs met too, that is what he is paying for after
all, and she reluctantly pulls a condom out of her bag.
Ribbed for her pleasure...she always brings her own since there is always some creep who says he forgot his. She bends over the bed, the scratchy sheets
irritating her soft bare skin. He pumps away, and she is in her own
little world...thinking about Christmas, her cable bill is due, does
she have a "date" next weekend or is she free to go out with her
girlfriends? She can't even remember the face of the man behind
her....she can only conjure up a pasty, amorphous blob of shit in a bad
suit with bad hair and reeking of Old Spice and Beechnut gum....they
all pretty much look the same. From this angle she can steal a quick
glance at the clock and she sees the time is almost up. She puts on a
real show now, moaning like his 6 inch member is the biggest one she
has ever had..."let's wrap this up motherfucker" she thinks between
deliberate gasps.
Finally, release...Jesus, this one must be all hopped up on Cialis. She lets him hold her for as long as is necessary to appear polite and then excuses herself to "freshen" up. She pulls on her lavender panties and bra and slips back into her black strappy dress. Good...he has left the money on the table. It is always awkward
when one must inquire. She is now at her most charming, she always is
when it is over. She gives him a quick hug and lies about what a great
time she had (she is a teriffic liar when it comes to the opposite sex)
and gets the fuck out of there, past the narrowed, knowing eyes of the
front desk clerk and out the revolving door until she is safe in her
car. She lights a Pall Mall and takes a deep drag. She smokes and
listens to music the whole way home, not giving a second thought to
what just transpired and managing not to cry one bit.
She lets herself in to her apartment and locks the door behind her....now for
the fun part. She takes out the cash she just made and adds it to the
large stack in her Jimmy Choo shoebox....she counts it and re-counts
it. There is still not enough to fill up that hole inside...the hole
that a man created....that ALL men created.....she hates them all...but
she especially hates HIM. This is for him...for all of them really. The
mother who didn't believe in her and called her a no-good tramp, the
father who beat her and made her hate summertime, the grandfather who
did unspeakable things to her before she was even in kindergarten, the
mother of her former friend who told all the parents in school to keep
their kids away from her....the numerous ex boyfriends who beat her,
stole from her, lied to her, cheated on her....but especially HIM, the
one who broke her heart, her one true love, the one that tried to crush
her soul with his words...as much as she hated him, hated ALL of them,
she loved herself...for being just what they told her she was...and
being ok with that.
"Fuck them all..." she thought dreamily as she put her money away. SHE was in control now, and she would NEVER let another piece of shit man have power over her again. She had the power, and she would use them all, just as she had been used. No one would ever see inside her heart again, the wall was finally erected and sufficiently inpenetratable.
She wasn't worried that the hole was still present
in her heart...there were plenty more johns out there and plenty more
dates to go on...you could always count on stupid men being stupid men.
"Fuck 'em all" she thought sleepily, a strange little smile washing
over her face as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.[/font]
about the random drivers sharing the road with her until she arrives at the
hotel. She laughs at the word "luxury" on the marquis as she examines
the peeling paint and water stains on the aging stucco. She breezes
past the reception desk without even a glance; she doesn't need to
look, she can sense the meaning in the once over given her by the night
clerk. It used to bother her, and she used to pretend she was there on
legitimate business, but she isn't green anymore, and is pretty much
numb to everything the job entails.
It is a smoking room, thank God, and she studies him critically as he answers the door, a little too eagerly. She knows at once she can let her guard down, this one is
looking for a "girlfriend experience." The ones you have to worry about
are looking for the "porn star experience"...they like to tie you up
and gag you and slap you in the face...she can feel the seething hatred
well up in her chest and she swallows it down...and dazzles the schmuck
with her smile.
She sits down next to him on the tacky, hotel-issue duvet and he pours her a glass of Shiraz. He seems impressed with her articulate way of speaking, as they usually are. "I wonder what kind of meth-ravaged boneheads these guys are accustomed to seeing" she wonders as she remembers to laugh at all the right places in the poor sap's mundane story, stealthily glancing at the clock every time he takes a drink...she always WAS good at multi-tasking. It is only a two hour
date and she doesn't intend on staying over, so she kicks off her black
pumps and starts rubbing his knee through his tan wrinkle-resistant
Dockers. Ugh....this one likes to kiss. She thwarts him as best as she
can and lets him kiss her neck...her breasts...her stomach...and so on
and so forth. This is the part she likes the best, when the only part
of this strange pathetic man to violate her is his mouth, and she
doesn't even have to fake the release that comes quickly. But of course
he must have his needs met too, that is what he is paying for after
all, and she reluctantly pulls a condom out of her bag.
Ribbed for her pleasure...she always brings her own since there is always some creep who says he forgot his. She bends over the bed, the scratchy sheets
irritating her soft bare skin. He pumps away, and she is in her own
little world...thinking about Christmas, her cable bill is due, does
she have a "date" next weekend or is she free to go out with her
girlfriends? She can't even remember the face of the man behind
her....she can only conjure up a pasty, amorphous blob of shit in a bad
suit with bad hair and reeking of Old Spice and Beechnut gum....they
all pretty much look the same. From this angle she can steal a quick
glance at the clock and she sees the time is almost up. She puts on a
real show now, moaning like his 6 inch member is the biggest one she
has ever had..."let's wrap this up motherfucker" she thinks between
deliberate gasps.
Finally, release...Jesus, this one must be all hopped up on Cialis. She lets him hold her for as long as is necessary to appear polite and then excuses herself to "freshen" up. She pulls on her lavender panties and bra and slips back into her black strappy dress. Good...he has left the money on the table. It is always awkward
when one must inquire. She is now at her most charming, she always is
when it is over. She gives him a quick hug and lies about what a great
time she had (she is a teriffic liar when it comes to the opposite sex)
and gets the fuck out of there, past the narrowed, knowing eyes of the
front desk clerk and out the revolving door until she is safe in her
car. She lights a Pall Mall and takes a deep drag. She smokes and
listens to music the whole way home, not giving a second thought to
what just transpired and managing not to cry one bit.
She lets herself in to her apartment and locks the door behind her....now for
the fun part. She takes out the cash she just made and adds it to the
large stack in her Jimmy Choo shoebox....she counts it and re-counts
it. There is still not enough to fill up that hole inside...the hole
that a man created....that ALL men created.....she hates them all...but
she especially hates HIM. This is for him...for all of them really. The
mother who didn't believe in her and called her a no-good tramp, the
father who beat her and made her hate summertime, the grandfather who
did unspeakable things to her before she was even in kindergarten, the
mother of her former friend who told all the parents in school to keep
their kids away from her....the numerous ex boyfriends who beat her,
stole from her, lied to her, cheated on her....but especially HIM, the
one who broke her heart, her one true love, the one that tried to crush
her soul with his words...as much as she hated him, hated ALL of them,
she loved herself...for being just what they told her she was...and
being ok with that.
"Fuck them all..." she thought dreamily as she put her money away. SHE was in control now, and she would NEVER let another piece of shit man have power over her again. She had the power, and she would use them all, just as she had been used. No one would ever see inside her heart again, the wall was finally erected and sufficiently inpenetratable.
She wasn't worried that the hole was still present
in her heart...there were plenty more johns out there and plenty more
dates to go on...you could always count on stupid men being stupid men.
"Fuck 'em all" she thought sleepily, a strange little smile washing
over her face as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.[/font]
Published 24th Nov 2010
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 2
comments 5
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The author encourages honest critique.
29th Nov 2010 5:15pm
29th Nov 2010 5:21pm
29th Nov 2010 7:17pm
so achingly human. you've perfectly captured the painful, quixotic compulsion that drives demon-haunted souls in their cycle of self-fulfilling entrapment. Emotional and psychological sub-text are so real here that I can almost feel their brutal lash... thank you.
25th May 2011 6:18pm
I'm never a fan of the portrayal of a man-hating woman, as I find it a little too cliche. However, I really enjoyed this read, in places the wording is quite fantastic.
18th Feb 2012 5:37am
I'm a tough critic when it comes to prose. I like a lot of the informal sort of tongue-in-cheek behavior, and the imagery wasn't too bad, but I wasn't entirely bought by the whole thing. Just something about it made most of the story without detail. There's all these little things which you mention that are seemingly signifigant, but they stop where you mention them once. I mean, this, as is, is good-- but not necessarily great.
I also agree with Anon, the last bit about all her troubles was like releasing a flood gate. . .and that's not enjoyable, it's just kind of annoying froma readers perspective.
I also agree with Anon, the last bit about all her troubles was like releasing a flood gate. . .and that's not enjoyable, it's just kind of annoying froma readers perspective.
