By Absinthe Disclaimers: see the prologue. Furthermore, there's SEX ahead (gasp) and yes, it takes place between two happily consenting female adults. Go away if this could get you into trouble for any reason. Everything written in first person, from the viewpoint of Dr. Blockhead was written by the Criminal, and special thanks to her for her help thus far. Also to Sarah for proofing. Chapter 19: More from the eyes of the Man Dr. Blockhead. Of course, the real reason I'm in Gibsonton -- the reason nobody really knows yet, not even the Conundrum, though I think he suspects -- is to say goodbye, to bid my farewells to my colleagues in the field and thereby to the sideshow trade itself. This will probably be the last time I see Gibsonton, for now that I am become a nearly middle-aged old geeze, I must put away childish things, and all that Hemingway type crap. Who knew you could become a grown- up a decade after you're allowed to vote? Anyway. The reason I'm leaving and giving up the glorious struggle to keep America in touch with its more twisted roots is just as simple as this: I'm not getting any younger doing it. Ask not for whom the biological clock tolls, it tolls for thee. Found a gray hair in my goatee the other morning and nearly swallowed my toothbrush in shock. It's easy to forget birthdates on the road -- no time for it, not when you've got to show at least fifty-plus intimate strangers that you can have your face ground into broken glass, and then get up and introduce the next act with nary a whimper -- but after some quick calculation and mouthwash, I realized I'm nearly thirty-five. Which means in another five years, I'll be forty, and in another ten, fifty. Given the average lifespan of an adult white male, minus about twenty years of chainsmoking, and you have nearly half your life over, give or take. Not a pleasant thought to have to face over the Aquafresh first thing in the morning, and not exactly conducive to sleeping like a Percodan fiend, either. So here I am, awake at 3:00 a.m. in Mr. Thumb's trailer park Riviera, and pondering the deeper facets of human experience, viz. and to wit, getting closer to that Great Motel Room in the Sky. I was never really the introspective type before all this aging shit popped up on me, though. I was only twenty-two when I started my act, working the boardwalks of Myrtle Beach, and I never thought maybe one day I'd actually stop and look at myself and think, "What the fuck have I done with my life thus far?". You know, you think you're immortal when you're a kid -- and I don't mean like that "vampire" chick Conundrum picked up last year when we were doing the S&M clubs in New York -- but then one day you wake up and you realize you're thirty-five years old and basically a vagrant with no permanent address except maybe your car. I wish I had some fucking cigarettes. I wish I could just go to sleep. I wish the Conundrum would stop making those weird-ass noises from the back of his throat every time he inhales. Lucky bastard's conked out on the rug, but does that mean I, the long-suffering roommate, get an iota of consideration? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let the record show: I do not. Mostly I wish I had someone to talk about all this to, though. I mean, yeah, okay, I see the Conundrum nearly twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but he's chasing rabbits in his sleep right now, and he thinks I'm crazy for wanting to retire, anyway. Maybe he's right, maybe this mini van-and-white- picket-fence-with-2.5-kids-and-a-pair-of-labrador-puppies midlife crisis thing is just a phase, maybe life as a norm will kill me, but I could still use a sympathetic ear at the moment. Barring that, of course, there's always the option of taking a brisk pre-dawn walk. There's a huge full moon out, bright as daylight -- maybe a little cool night air will help me clear my brain out. And then there's always the hope that I'll accidentally get hit by a passing car and just forget about the whole idea. Maybe I could get some sleep in the hospital. With this hope in mind, I shrug on my leather jacket and slip outside. I've gone maybe five feet out of the trailer park when I hear footsteps on the gravel road behind me, and someone says: "Couldn't sleep either, Dr. ... Blockhead?" Someone sounds like a night DJ on an alt-rock radio station, one of those voices that sounds just as comfortable saying "Eat hot lead, Kinkaid" as "We'll be right back after these messages from our sponsors". Luckily for me, Someone also sounds amused, so I turn around to see who it might be. It's the ever-radiant Sarah's strong-and-silent type lady companion, and I must admit, among other things, that the divine Miss Covington has excellent taste. Her friend is very beautiful in a way that fits well with natural surroundings like this one. She's also more than a little unnerving to suddenly find behind you late at night and alone. "No," I admit to her at last, hands in my coat pockets. "Got too much on my mind, I'm afraid. You?" She shrugs, chuckles a little. "You could say that, I suppose...mind some company?" Not that she strikes me as the sociable type, mind you, but the truth is, I'm not in the mood to be alone, and so maybe she isn't, either. It could be that type of night, after all -- Attack of the Insomniac Brains of Doom! -- so... "Not at all," I say amicably. "I was just gonna walk to the end of the road, watch the sky a little, maybe, turn back." "Sounds good to me," she says, and we walk on down the road in amiable silence, which I've always thought is the best way to be around someone. It's a beautiful night out, and it's nice not to have to make small talk. After a while, she asks: "So what've you got on your mind that's keeping you up?" "Oh...just realized I'm not getting any younger, I guess, and wondering if I really want to spend the rest of my life pounding nails into my nostrils...if this is really what I want to do with the rest of my life." "Trying to figure a way out of it, huh?" She sounds surprisingly sympathetic. "Yeah. Sideshow work doesn't exactly have a pension plan for retired performers. I never really thought before about what I'm going to do when I get too old for this...does that sort of thing ever bother you?" "The...last job I had didn't precisely provide for, ah, retirement options either, you could say. To be honest, I never thought I would make it to an age where that would begin to be a problem." And about all I can say to that, besides "So does a life of crime pay well, or is that just the ad copy?", is: "Oh." "You had another nightmare didn't you?" Sarah said almost as soon as Maia poked her head back inside. It was just a little after sunrise, and it wasn't a question. "I didn't wake you did I?" "How long has it been since you slept the night through?" "It doesn't matter." Maia shrugged, pulling clothes out of her bag to mask her bewilderment. "I know you don't want to talk to me about it, but something is wearing you away." Sarah grasped her friend's hand and pulled her a little closer, "Sit down with me. I got something for us to eat. I want to help you Maia. Will you let me?" They both picked at the food for a few moments, though Maia seemed on the verge of chuckling. "You're so innocent," she said at last, "You know you're the first person that..." she trailed off, "I don't want you to get hurt." "That first night we were together . . . It started then," Sarah firmly replied, "It's silly. We're being silly, I see the way you look at me, and it drives me crazy sleeping in the same bed as you and not being able to touch you. But I see the walls too. Sometimes I wonder if I'm reading you wrong, but I don't think so." The blonde leaned forward, reaching across the table. Such aggressiveness had never been in her nature, but Maia managed to make her act out of character as no one else could. Their souls spoke to each other as Maia would not allow their mouths to. It had been years since Maia had been around anyone that could make her feel, and it was painful in the way that circulation returning to a frozen limb causes it to burn with renewed sensation. "I'm not sure of anything right now. We may not be safe. I'm sorry." She looked down, "I should ne-" her speech was stopped abruptly by Sarah's mouth covering her own. For a breathless moment, Maia considered pulling away, but the contact was too sweet; too long desired. She melted forward, drawn into the deliciousness of the moment. The instant heat she felt was strangely new, and while she was far from virginal, she felt giddy. "Nothing is going to happen. But if it does, then that means that now may be all we have. Perhaps we don't have time to equivocate and play these little games." Sarah continued, whispering. It occurred to Maia, not for the first time by any means, that the savvy art dealer from New York didn't believe a word she'd told her about the past and the demons it contained, and the unimaginable things that went on right under the public's collective nose. It made her smile to think that most people wouldn't. Maia stood up, drawing Sarah with her. The taller woman looked down into Sarah's eyes, eyes that revealed her entire, vital being. A thrill ran up her spine. "Teach me to make love to you." Sarah asked, suddenly hesitant now that she had gotten so close to what she wanted most. Maia smiled again at the blush now coloring the blonde's fair cheeks. She kissed Sarah's fingertips, moving slowly up until she buried her face in the younger woman's chamomile and rosemary scented hair. The reluctance of her mind; logical, strong resistance, broke down in the face of her emotions. Maia's surrender was sudden and complete. She wanted to learn every detail of Sarah's body. She stepped back, breaking contact for a moment. Maia unbuttoned Sarah's satin night-shirt impatiently, and finally the woman's voluptuous, ivory skinned body was laid bare. Sarah stood, trembling inwardly, hoping desperately that her excitement was not visible. She had never felt so naked and vulnerable before in her life. It wasn't that her pajamas lay crinkled on the floor, but it was the way that those laser like blue eyes devoured her. She'd been looked at before to be sure, but this time, she couldn't help but feel that Maia saw past her flesh and into the soul inside. When a few seconds had passed, though as far as Sarah could tell it had been hours, the blonde heard herself demand that Maia lose the blue jeans. She wanted to feel skin on skin: Now. Maia grinned, her eyes never leaving her lover's face. Their hands bumped into each other, as each went for the hem of her ancient t-shirt. Maia shook her head in facetious rebuke and slipped the garment over her head. Sarah was wide eyed in appreciation of the sinuous twist that the movement entailed. Before Maia had her hands completely free again, she snaked her own arms around the taller woman and unfastened her bra, tugging it off as well. Maia claimed another kiss, and while Sarah was distracted, moved them onto the bed. She straddled the blonde's hips, never losing the precious, hot contact of their lips. Sarah's half voiced complaint when Maia withdrew was interrupted by a gasp as knowledgeable teeth latched onto a delectable nipple. She snarled her fingers in Maia's uneven, wild curls and arched her back obligingly. Maia drew sensuous patterns on Sarah's smooth, satin body with her saliva, exploring. She let her fingers scout the heated apex of the blonde's legs before she slid with agonizing slowness down the length of Sarah's torso and allowed herself to taste . . . The toe-curling action long abated, the two new lovers leaned against each other languorously. It had to be about ten in the morning by then, the sun was slanting prettily through the window in straight rays. Sarah toyed with a piece of Maia's hair, an activity that she never seemed to tire of. Maia simply lay with her eyes half closed, enjoying a moment of complete and perfect peace. The voices in the back of her mind were silent for the moment; anxieties forgotten and guilt temporarily relinquished. She didn't notice Dr. Blockhead until he was suspended upside down over his cauldron. "Your friend is back," she quietly announced. "Is he?" Sarah asked, her mind clearly focused on more immediate concerns, "guess even highly trained body manipulators have to practice sometimes." "You think he's not doing that for your benefit? Right outside our window?" "Jealous?" the blonde teased, "I bet YOU can't do that." "Hang upside down over a pot of malodorous . . . eh . . . crap?" "No, drive nails into your head." "Wanna bet?" Maia darkly replied. "Not," Sarah gave the head resting on her stomach a speculative look, "really." Back to part 18 Back to The Beginning To My Fic Page
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