Venus as a Boy

10:15 pm.

Another goddamned shift.

She took a drag from her cigarette, and straightened her body up in front of the mirror. She smoothed the wrinkles from her flashy red dress, turned to the side, and exhaled, watching the smoke make a trail from her crimson lips.

I look good. Like a goddess.

She placed her cigarette into the ashtray on her nightstand and looked into the mirror again. She knew she was meant to be a god. But here she was, in a goddamned identity crisis.

Born Adam, converted to Eve.

But hell, everyone’s an artist these days.

And besides, it pays the fuckin’ bills.

Who cares about bills? It’s about taste.

And I’ve got good taste. So good, everyone wants a piece.

She grabbed her pillbox and her Gucci bag. She gave herself another once-over before stubbing out her cigarette and leaving.

Tomorrow, she said as she passed the little old landlord holding her hand out for rent. Shit hole sucks, but it’s better than nothing.

Better than the street, she thought to herself, standing outside in the cold, dragging on another smoke and wrapping her red mink coat tighter around herself. The others standing along the sidewalk with her weren’t much along the lines of eye candy, at least not compared to her. Yet they disappeared right and left.

Like a bunch of goddamn M&Ms going down a fat kid’s throat, she thought, and threw her cigarette on the ground.

A car slowed down; stopped. The window slid down slowly. The driver made eye contact with her.

Finally.

She walked over to the car and ducked her head through the window; got a good long glance at the interior and the face of the customer. She could tell he was a drunk prick with some dollars to spare. He wasn’t bad-looking. She liked his hair, his face, his shoes. She gave him the look, the one guys like him love.

How you doin’ tonight, sugar? she said, licking her lips tantalizingly. You lookin’ for a good time?

He nodded his head; asked her if she’s got a dick.

Whoa, now, cowboy. Gimme one good reason why I should just hop in this heap with you.

He leaned forward and grabbed something from under the passenger seat; flashed her a wad of Benjamins. She smirked.

Well now, that’s more like it.

He popped open the door for her and she slid in, smoother than a snake. She gently pulled the bottom hem of her dress up a little, so the man could see a definite bulge. He exhaled a shaky breath and reached his hand over to her lap. She grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand midair.

Uh-uh-uh. Not so fast, sugar. Nobody gets inside the petting zoo for free.

He paused and stared at her for a second, as if making sure she was serious. Finally he grabbed the wad of cash and took out a fifty; asked her if that was enough.

Oh, sure, sugar, she said, spreading her legs wide for him. That much money could go a long way at this petting zoo.

He grinned and reached under her dress.

You certainly know how to man-handle a lady, she said, letting out a little chuckle.

He started touching himself at the same time, his own bulge becoming more pronounced; asked her if she’d like to go to his place to settle things.

I wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’. She said, and they drove off into the night.




He said to make herself comfortable, and she made her way to his sofa as he closed the door.

Well this is certainly a nice set-up you’ve got here, sweetie, she said. And I’ve seen me some places in my time.

He walked briskly over to her and immediately started fondling her.

Now, now, sugar…all in good time. She disentangled herself from his grasp and opened her bag. First I need to go to the ladies room.

He watched her dejectedly as she made her way to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Don’t do nothing without me.

The first thing she did when she locked the door was look through his medicine cabinet. There was nothing of interest except Vicotin, which would make her too sleepy. She reached inside her purse and took out her pill box.

Valium, she thought. The perfect way to not care anymore.

She rinsed it down with some water from the sink and fluffed up her hair a bit. She gave herself another once-over and then went into the next room.

Hope you ain’t been doin’ nothing’ while I was gone, honey, she said. There was music playing now, a slow R&B beat.

He was on the couch, sipping a glass of Vodka; asked her if she’d like a drink.

Oh, no thank you, she said. I never take drinks from strangers. She gave him a wink.

He stood up and walked over to her; placed his drink on the table behind her. She had already begun unzipping her dress and slipping off her panties when he grabbed her from behind and began trying to finger her.

Lemme fuck you in the ass, he whispered.

Hey, now, she said. This is not very gentlemanly of you. She moved a few steps out of reach. You need to take things slowly…I’m a bit shy. She smiled and wrinkled her nose playfully.

C’mon, he said. Don’t be a bitch.

He grabbed her arms and brought her forcefully to him, so it knocked the wind out of her. She was mashed to his chest. His aroma, sickly beautiful, overwhelmed her. His skin was so hot, his body so hard. The body of a god, she thought.

Hey now, she said, the smile gone completely. Lemme go. You’re hurtin’ me now. C’mon.

Look, he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his and pulling her head back, forcing her to look in his eyes. I’m paying you, pal. So either do this the way I want or I’ll kick your filthy ass out where you belong.

She gave him a stony gaze. Well maybe I should just go then.

She began to leave when he seized her again and threw her on the bed. Don’t you dare, he growled. Don’t you dare make this whole fucking night a waste of my goddamn time. He grabbed her hips with his strong, strong hands and flipped her facedown on the edge of the bed. He spread her legs, hard, and began unbuttoning his pants.

Sonovabitch, she kept thinking. To be raped by this sonovabitch….

All too suddenly she felt a sharp pain as he thrust himself inside of her, without lube or even spit.

She cried out in pain. Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting me, you fucker!

Mercilessly he pounded into her until she thought she might scream. It seemed to last a lifetime. She groped around the floor under the bed, trying to find some leverage to pull herself away from him. Suddenly she stopped as her hand touched something cold and hard.

A baseball bat.

She took a deep breath and twisted herself around till she was on her side, swinging the bat at his head as hard as she could.

The room was filled with a huge sound, as though a giant funeral bell were being rung.

How ironic.

He sat there silently, his brow furrowed in confusion. It wasn’t until his blood started flowing--almost like a fountain, she thought--that he realized what had just happened. Slowly his body slumped onto the bed, and she could see where the bat had smashed his temple.

She pulled away from him and turned to face him. She checked his breathing. As soon as she was sure he was dead, she stood up, went across the room and began dressing, every now and then wiping at the blood she saw on her skin.

I really need a wash, she thought.

She grabbed his wad of cash that was sitting on the table and headed for the door. Before she reached it she happened to glance at herself in the mirror. This made her stop. She looked herself up and down, then turned to the side and straightened herself out.

I look good. Like a goddess.

She knew she was meant to be a god.

But damn, do I look good in stilettos.