High Roll Blues

High Roll Strip is where I live. Colored by the flashy neon and shiny glasses, she hide the damp reality of her residents that keeps the money rolling pretty well.

On the outside, you’d only see the glamour clubs with half naked women dancing on the pole and the one willing to taking off more sitting on the sofa waiting to be called. But if you take a walk down to the alley in the corner, that’s where all those women kept. On the dirty room by the muddy wet road, that’s where they live, taking a shit and scratching rash after all-night hard fucks.

By “hard”, I don’t mean the good one. Sometimes they looked so disgusting, you’d want to fake your orgasm as soon as possible.

Yes, I’m one of those women.

Every night I sat on the sofa with my fellow kitten (that’s what they call our kind here) wearing red front-zipped one piece dress on top of our pushup bra and g-string. Easy to get in, easy to get out, that’s what needed every night when a lot of pigs (this one is my own code) coming.

I like sex, I really do. But this job show me what’s the worth of it. I want to open my partner’s clothes, throw it on the corner of the room while he push his face to my breast and bit the shirt before it’s even opened.

But what do I get? Bullshit. There’s unwritten ethics that we have to let the man open their clothes and either hang or fold it, while I get undressed too, take them to the bathroom and bathe them. Then I can take a bath on the see-thru shower while he lay on the bed staring and waiting for me to give him the blowjob and putting his rubber after he got hard.

I’m on top, missionary, doggie.

Moan, pretend to like it, pretend about to come, he come.

Done.

Fucking SOP on sex exist. Who would’ve thought? I didn’t.

Mama told all of us kitten never give more than that because they don’t pay us big enough. Pay HER big enough. I know how much they spend on an hour of sex (mostly less) and I obviously know how much I get from that.

You think the beuracracy is annoying as government worker? Try being a prostitute. We’re merely a meat to rent, and treated as one by everyone.

Like this regular pig. He used to come at least twice a month for years of being depressed single. Laughable, I know. He’s gone for awhile before he come back again. I don’t know what’s wrong with his newly gained girlfriend, my guess is she don’t follow our SOP.

Or that old pig. Thinking he’s rich for being able to test every kitten under this roof, but in fact we all know he just a pathetic man bored with his wife that keep fucking younger guy.

But then this man came.

His slender body and long black hair gave an impression of a snake. His eyes were sharp, staring at me like I was naked before I even open my dress.

“I know what you want,” he said. We both just about to enter the room, the bellboy wasn’t around and I just turn back and smile politely.

“What is it?”

“A fuck. Like you never get from all those puny pigs.”

I stare at those deep black eyes, asking non-verbal question through our stare. He only stare back and whisper:

“Don’t you?”

“Let’s see what you got, big boy,” I replied. I don’t know whether this is his kink or not, but there’s somthing threatening about this guy. The kind of threat that arouse me.

And sure it was.

He didn’t even let me lock the door, nor undress myself. He bit my neck once I close the door. And in seconds my dress was on the floor.

“This isn’t right,” I thought.

He spinned my body facing him and pushed me to the wall. His face was so close to mine, and he spoke in front of my lips. His breath was warm as summer breeze.

“You can rip my shirt if you want to,” he said.

“Do you want me to?”

“I want you to do as you please. I’ll pay you to use and abuse me.”

“Damn, this is totally right.”

I quickly kissed him, halfly bit his lips. My hand grab his collar and separate it left and right.

Buttons flying, there’s a loud zipping sound and now I’m able to see his fair skin and muscular chest. I stare at his face and hear him talking to my lips again with his deep voice:

“Be my guest, pussy cat.”

And sure I was.

“Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t care.”

“Do you know what I am?”

“No.”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“Just a cough..”

“For months? It’s more than that.”

“Is that…”

“Yes.”

“How? I play safe.”

“Blowjob.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re not going to die…”

“Really?”

“…yet.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“You ain’t the first saying it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No.”

“How do you know I’m about to die?”

“Not going to die…”

“Just yet. Cut the crap, how?”

“I just know.”

Silence.

“I can give you more time, y’know.”

“How?”

“I got my own way.”

“Who ARE you?”

“Oh great, now you ask?”

“Just answer.”

“Later, when the time comes.”

Silence again.

“How long?”

“Up to you.”

“Ten years?”

“Your sex was good, but it wasn’t legendary.”

“Five?”

“It’s cool.”

“How do I know you keep your promise?”

“I pay for us tonight, you don’t lose anything. Just entertain the thought with no expectations. That’s what life is supposed to be.”

So here I am, standing naked in front of the mirror. That regular pig is here, sleeping on the bed to spend the rest of his time that’s still pretty long. He always come early and sleep the rest of it away. No pillow talk needed, I’m a hooker anyway. He’s married now, yet still coming back.

Typical.

I’ve learned to not complain about it anymore. I’m a meat fap machine, nothing more. These pigs only need t lay on their back an enjoy the ride while we work our ass –literally– off to please them.

He arrives, out of nowhere he emerge and stand behing me. Naked to the bone, only his long hair covers part of his chest and big black wings curving around his body.

“You’ve grown wings,” I turn around and smile a bit.

“I always have.”

“Time’s up?”

“Since five years ago.”

“What about him?” I nodded at the regular pig sleeping on the bed. Disgustingly naked.

“All your pigs will be taken soon,” he smile with his full lips. “Your fie years period giving me a lot of rescheduling, you know?”

We laugh and he hugs me before my naked body fall to the ground.

Written in the middle of a fight between T and V.

I took a deep breath and exhale white smoke to the bright sky illuminated by the smiling silvery crescent. My wristclock ticks rhytmically like it’s supposed to be, each is the sound of Death’s footstep sounding on the alley of fate.

I looked down, watching the light passing by in a flash, encroaching the wet ashpalt after the big rain washing away Jakarta. A big rain always wash away Jakarta, all the time. I grabbed the dark pseudo-square shaped bottle beside me and let the burning sensation crawling and scratching down my neck through my stomach.

My head felt light, it’s like flying.

I spread my hands, letting the wind blown itself between my fingers. The brown-bottomed cigarette slipped through my hand to the land below. I breathe heavily, the taste of alcohol sliding through my tongue to the air I breathe.

Daemos laughed at my ear.

Wind blows harder, I jumped. Thirty stories tall, thirty stories fall, to her hug, come I shall….

My shirt flaps behind my back, flying off my shoulder into the night sky like a white dove, the sign of all the peaceful bullshit in this insane universe. Peace be with me, as I will rest soon.

Thank Lord for the limited time of living.

I wonder if you ever press Z on photoshop and keep on clicking on the photo and the picture keep on expanding bigger and bigger, blurrer and blurrer.

Road.

Sidewalk.

Pavement.

Cement.

Blurry grey.

Jet black.

Flying black feathers surrounding me, I lay on my bed facing the infinite voidness above me. Cold stone on my back, reminding me I still have one of my senses.

Second reminder come across my cheek with loud noise. The stinging hot sensation spread like water falling to a cobblestone.

“Don’t be lazy,” he said. “You know it’s useless, you can’t take anyone’s life…”

“But mine,” I replied.

Another Death-related story. I’m jut sooo creative.

On a Wedding, Bored, I Decided to Write

A Girl Who Keep on Winning

Here we are. Bathed by the city light under the dirty sky dome polluted by smog and atificial illumination from its beneath. You puff another smoke, I lit another cigs, and we both fell into this comfortable silence.

A roaring sound came from behind us, you turned your head in excitement and I stare at you with a smile on the edge of my lips.

“FD?” I asked.

“FC, bright red. Fucking beast running faster than I thought it could,” she replied, still having the enthusiasm after having a glance over one of Japan’s most popular street machine.

“I know the owner.” I sipped another puff of smoke and let it evaporate with the carbon dioxide from my lungs through the heavy air you all breathe.

“Really?”

“Yeah, once my client asked me to have a ‘chat’ with him.”

“It’s supposed to be you knew who the owner ‘was’,” she replied; annoyed.

“I was just having a chat with him.”

“And how many of your chit-chat partner still alive until today?”

“One.”

“Me?”

“Duh.”

“Jerk.”

I laughed, and so did she. I stare at those blood red lips again, wondering if she was Snow White on her previous life.

Her jet black hair slipped from her left ear, covering one of her hazel eyes staring straight to my eyes. Like cold steel knife slipped its way through the skin and flesh it cut, my heart stopped before I even get the pain.

Metaphorically, of course.

It hurts because I know how impossible all of these shit.

“Ain’t you afraid of me?” I asked.

“I am.”

“Then…”

“I like you,” she cut my word.

“Even if it costs your life?”

“It’s worth it. After all, my life is the reason why you came to me, no?” she replied with her eyes glancing at my right arm.

“You always let them bargain with a game, right?” she continued her speak.

“Uh-huh.”

“Then what’s with this continuous game between us?”

“You keep on winning, and I have to keep my perfect score perfect. You have to go,” I replied.

She kissed me, sudenly. I can feel her tongue licking mine before biting my lips and letting it go.

“This fuckin’ game ain’t no chess, my dear. You have to be fierce IF you want to win,” she purred into my ear.

“That’s a big if,” I whispered.

“I fucking know it,” she said before pushing me to the grass and throwing away my schyte.

Be easy please, I haven’t write since God-knows-when.

Ferucila

I love the way you bite
I like the way you ride
I love the way you treat me
Like enemy in bed

I’m your slave, I’m your king
You’re my mistress, you’re my sin
Shut the door, hurt me more
Give the love-pain its encore

I’m your slave, I’m your king
Be my mistress, you’re my queen
Shut the door, hurt me more
Give the love-pain its encore

‘Cause I’m in love with your darkside
No, I’m in lust with your wild side
So get me on lock me down tied
You and me still got all night

I like the way you choke
I love the way you stroke
I like the way you hurt me
I like the way you treat me

Treat me baby, like a dirt
You know I like it when it hurts
Pin me down to the floor
Give the love-pain its encore

‘Cause I’m in love with your darkside
No, I’m in lust with your wild side
So get me on lock me down tied
You and me still got all night