House of Holes (24 page)

Dune breathed. “Oh, that would be a welcome treat.” He pushed an oven mitt into Shandee’s upper leg, softly, and palmed her left asscheek. Then he thumped the asscheek a little on one side, so that she jumped and her elegant flesh shimmied. He pinched her thighs gently three times and tugged on her hanky till it fell out. “Now let me see your pussy cry,” he said.

Shandee was wet already; she arched her back up and pushed. Dune saw a tender shining weep of wetness that brimmed over her slit and leaked down one leg.

“Oh, my glory!” Dune said, losing control. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d flung off an oven mitt and slid one pinky finger knuckle-deep into her velvet draperies.

There was a bonging sound and a commotion. A disembodied male arm leapt up, twirled once in the air, and seized Dune by the wrist. Krock hurried in and grabbed the knife. Mischa set out the chopping block on a towel. “Dune, why did you do it?” said Shandee, full of disappointment and concern.

“I forgot myself, I’m sorry,” said Dune, disengaging the viselike fingers of Dave’s arm. He turned to Krock and Mischa. “Now hear me out, guys. I play keyboards and guitar, and to be honest I’d rather lose my pecker for a little while than my ability to make music.”

That statement got Krock’s attention. “Daggett,” he said into his communicator, “tell Lila that Dune has verbally agreed before witnesses to lose his pecker.”

Lila was pacing up and down in front of her desk when Dune was led in. “All right, Mr. Pussyfinger,” she said firmly. “Just for that bit of defiance, we’re going to do a switcheroo on you.” She opened a door.

In walked Marcela, the art critic, in a black slip. “Hello,” she said, with a nervous smile.

Chilli Goes to the Porndecahedron with Dave

C
hilli met Dave at eleven o’clock at the border crossing. She’d put on a little makeup and was wearing sandals and a sleeveless white shirt with black buttons. “Hi there,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry, I can’t go with you.”

“Oh, pshaw, sure you can,” said Dave. “See the sights!”

“Well, just a quick visit then.”

They walked through a thicket and emerged at a clearing and climbed a low stone fence and walked a little farther. Dave pointed out the White Lake and the midway. They bought some falafels and ate them, while Dave told her about the darkrooms, where you talked in utter darkness. Chilli seemed to like that idea, so they checked into a darkroom and sat.

“So how did everything go yesterday?” asked Dave in the dark.

“Just fine,” Chilli said, enigmatically. “Now, tell me how this Porndecahedron works.”

Dave said, “It’s a twelve-sided projection theater, like a dodecahedron. You’ve heard of buckyballs, right? It’s a big buckyball that you go inside of. There’s a cluster of seats in the middle, either single or tandem seats, and you go in and sit in a seat, buckled in for safety, because you’re suspended. You sit there and movies play on all the screens around you.”

“Dirty movies.”

“Well, you pick the playlist. Could be music videos, or a mashup from Brad Pitt movies, or handjobs, or beautiful Balinese dancers, or men having sex with each other—some women like to watch men having sex, it seems. Some people are into fetishes, so then there’ll be twelve screens of, say, men coming on women’s feet.”

“Oh, wow,” said Chilli.

“I personally think all fetishes are just a waste of time. All you need for good porn is a pretty smiley woman who’s having fun, and a dude with a hard dick who isn’t fat.”

“And you watch this on your own?”

“You can, or sitting next to somebody you’ve not met, or hardly met, or somebody you know well. It’s like a planetarium, except instead of planets and stars there are nipples, or cocks, or gorgeous faces, or flowers opening, or sped-up clouds, or whatever, you get to pick, and you’re surrounded.”

Chilli took these varied images in. “And you decided to spend eight hours watching movies of women making themselves come?”

“I love homemade come movies. But not pussy close-ups. You have to see the woman’s face when she comes, pussy and face together, or it doesn’t work. I thought about watching some more movies when I got back from your beautiful field yesterday, but my mood was totally different because of talking to you. Also Lila’s got me on a deprivation schedule, which means I can’t masturbate myself as often as I’d like.”

“How sad for you.”

“Yeah, so for instance right now my cock is dealing with a massive porn overdose. It’s so full of home jizm brew it hurts.”

“By ‘your cock,’ of course you mean the cock you got from the Australian photographer guy.”

“I think of it as mine, but, yes, it’s his cock I’ve been edging with. Do you edge?”

“I don’t know, frankly, do I?” Chilli said.

“Edging’s when you do yourself till you almost come and then stop. You keep right on the edge of the tipping point. Go, stop, go, stop. Do you do that?”

Chilli gave this some thought. Dave heard her crossing her legs in the dark. “If my husband’s away,” she said, “I’ll drop the kids off with my mom, and I’ll do a shop, and then back home, yeah, I have so many crazy thoughts in my head that it sometimes takes a while to get through them.”

“Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon, edging,” said Dave. “Close, then away, then close, then away, till it really burns, and then finally, whammo bing-bangy ba-doom! Then, blip. Snerp.”

“Um, I don’t know how to ask you this, but—”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I could feel this unusually large cock of yours that you had grafted on? Just for a second. I don’t want to do anything with it, I just want to touch it for a second.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Dave. “It’s not a graft, though. Let me clarify that. It’s an interplasmic dual crotchal transfer. Very different process. I can explain if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. Let me just grope a little closer to you. Woops, where are you?”

“I’m here. My pants are down now.”

“Oh my god, your balls are like sheep balls. Wow.” She breathed in with a sipping sound, fondling Dave’s cock. He moved his hips a little so that it poked and shuttled through her loose fingers. “It’s been so so long,” she said.

“Your fingers feel good. So long since what?”

“Since I’ve held a really nice big cock. I went out with a boy in college for about a month. He was big. Not this big, though. Uh. It’s so heavy. I’m going to stop now though. Self-control. I have something for you.”

“Your mouth?”

“No, here.” She handed Dave a flash drive. “This is the movie I made of myself last night.”

“Great, we’ll pop into the Porndecahedron and watch it. I’m signed up for a block of time.” Dave readjusted his clothes, and they walked out into the sunlight squinting and shading their eyes and smiling at each other.

“I’m so horny I can barely walk,” Chilli said, giggling. “Where is this filthy Frigahedron?”

“Right through here,” said Dave. At the upload station he keyed in his password and loaded Chilli’s movie into his playlist. “I warn you, this is pretty immersive. It may just be too much for you. All I’ve got on this playlist is women making themselves come. Plus a few titty cumshots to spice the mix. I love those.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be a part of it. I want to see what you do when you watch me.”

Dave got them a pack of Red Vines and opened a door, and they walked into the staging area and sat together in a tandem chair. Once Chilli had gotten herself buckled in, they were lifted up into the center of the Porndecahedron. Dave tapped a button on his handrest and they started watching. There were movies above them and below them and on all sides, and all the soundtracks merged and mingled and were confusingly present, although some people muted all but one of them or overlaid a music track. “So this is it, huh?” she said. “She looks like she’s enjoying it. Oh my goodness, that’s a lot of sperm. Don’t you find this a bit overwhelming?”

“Hell, I could probably handle twenty-four screens,” said Dave. He was biting his lips, watching, his eyes ping-ponging around from clip to clip. “I love the way she moves her knees,” he said.

“Now that woman looks sexy to me,” Chilli said, pointing off to the left. “Whoa, was that her orgasm? She really came hard.”

Then Dave spotted Chilli’s face. It was on one of the screens just above his head and to the right. “There you are!” he said.

“Where? Uh-oh. This is incredibly embarassing.”

“No, it’s not, it’s beautiful. Is that your living room?” On the screen, Chilli was taking off her shirt and undoing her bra and looking at herself in the mirror of her laptop screen. “You are so sexy! Jesus. Mmm. I’m going to have to do some serious edging. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You’re going to bring your charley horse out right now?”

“Yeah, and I wish you would liberate your clit, too. Just set it free.”

“But then I’d be masturbating to a film of myself mas-turbating.”

“Exactly, and you’ll enjoy it, too. Don’t miss this opportunity to get serious with your entire cunt. It wants your attention.”

“That’s true,” she said.

Dave angled out his Malcolm Gladwell.

“Ooh, you’ve got it out again,” she said. “Can I hold it for a second, just the head of it? Oof.”

He leaned back. “I don’t want to come right yet, though. But, oh gosh, you’re so so pretty up on the twelvemo screen. Look at that, you’re so lusciously nasty with yourself. This is fantastic.” In her movie, Chilli was holding her legs open with her elbows, and she was gripping one hand with the other and stuffing three fingers inside herself.

“I am getting down and dirty, aren’t I?”

“And your eyes, look at your eyes, look at that fucky sex blur in your eyes.”

“This is where I came, I think,” she said. “Yep, that’s how I come.”

“You are ridiculously hot, wait, don’t move your hand on my cock, don’t move even a quarter of an inch or I’ll spunk ham juice out everywhere, oh, oh, so close, let it work its way down—Zen, Zen, whooooooooo.”

“But I want you to come.”

“Not here,” said Dave. “I’ve seen too much porn. I need to escape. I need nature. I want to come in your field with your pussy shoved in my face.”

“I can’t do that,” said Chilli.

“No? Under the clouds in the sex field?”

“Well, okay,” she said. “Briefly.”

“Goody, just press stop on your handrest there.”

The tandem chair lowered to the staging area, and they walked out.

“I’ll get the blanket,” said Dave.

“Hurry, because I’m here leaking right down my leg,” said Chilli.

She and Dave had a breathless run—it felt like an escape—out of House of Holes territory and on through the briars and the bushes to the sex field.

“We can go back close to where you were yesterday,” Chilli said, “but a little ways back. It’s private.”

Dave spread out the blanket over what Chilli noticed was an old dry hole in the ground. Probably a mole hole, she thought. Then she thought, Hmmm. She sat splaylegged on the blanket, and Dave brought out his massive, porn-maddened spunk-spewer. “Let me just stare at it,” she said.

Very lightly and respectfully she touched it, as if less pressure made for less of a marital infraction.

“Can I fuck you right here on this blanket?” asked Dave.