Burning Time

16

Troland took the girl to the crummy house he grew up in. Back then, the streets around it had been quiet. When he and his brothers drove by, their bikes blaring a continual fart, people used to come out on their porches to see what was going on. Not anymore. The houses had gone down. Some of the porches were about falling off, and whole families were living on them, lying out there in hammocks with the Latino music blasting. Laughing, smoking, arguing in loud voices. Everywhere there was the smell of beans and frying foods. Broken-down cars were parked on the street, in the short weedy drives. Shit. His mother died seven years ago, and his aunt Lela had been living there ever since. He’d given her a trip to Disneyland to get rid of her for a few days, and offered to look after her house for her. She’d handed over the keys and taken off.

Troland unlocked the door and the girl followed him in.

“This your place, Willy?” she asked.

He was a foot or two away from her. Suddenly his hand whipped out, caught her arm, and wheeled her around to look at him.

“Hey, that hurts. What’s the matter?” Tears sprouted in her eyes.

“Don’t call me Willy,” he snapped. Willy’s voice thundered in his ear. Only Willy is the real Willy.

“I thought that was your name.” She sniffed, trying to hold back a sob.

“Don’t cry. I don’t like crying.”

“What’s the matter?” She gulped a little, pulling on her arm to get him to release her.

“Nothing. Just do it right.” He looked at her so intensely, she turned her head away from his eyes.

“You’re not going to be weird, are you?” she said faintly. “Weird scares me.”

Troland snorted. “What’s weird?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Her eyes were on the coke.

He had pulled some cellophane packages out of his pocket. He put one package down on the table and went to check the doors. Front door locked. Back door locked. Windows locked. He made some patterns with his foot around each entrance, to seal it from the outside. He went around the house three times, first to check the doors and windows, then to pull down the discolored old blinds. Finally he came back to the table and laid out a large piece of paper to put the lines of powder on.

“Hey, what’s that?”

“What does it look like?”

She shivered. The paper was almost completely covered by a drawing, very vivid with strong reds and blues.

“I don’t know.” She leaned closer.

Her blond hair fell over her face, and she didn’t brush it back as she tried to figure it out.

“Uh, two snakes with wings?” she guessed. “No, an eagle with two snakes in his mouth. Ugh, it has teeth, and it looks like the whole thing’s burning up around the edges.”

“Great, huh?”

She raised one shoulder, noncommittal.

“I drew it,” he said flatly.

“Uh, no kidding. Can we have that now?”

He gave her two generous lines and watched her expertly snort every tiny grain. She breathed deeply a few times, shuddering, then turned to him.

“Your turn.”

“Go away. I like to do it alone,” he said.

She wandered back into the dining room and took her clothes off. She started dancing naked to music in her head. For a few minutes, Troland watched her grinding away for his benefit. She had a small flat ass, no hips, and a stomach like a board. Probably hadn’t eaten anything in months. The girl was way into it. He wasn’t turned on.

“Hurry up,” she said. “I’m waiting for you.”

He frowned at the command and turned his attention to the coke. He had to have something, but didn’t want as much as she had had. Finally he turned his back to her and took a little, just enough to enjoy it. He sniffed a few times afterward, letting himself go with it. He felt better.

“Com’ere.”

She danced over to where he stood by the table, humming to herself and snapping her fingers.

“Unzip my jeans.”

She unbuttoned the button, then began on his zipper, opening her thighs around his legs and pressing her flat chest against his shirt with her two hands between them. He wasn’t wearing anything under his jeans. She reached in and giggled.

“Ah.” She rubbed with one hand and pulled at his jeans with the other.

“No, leave them on,” he said.

“Don’t you want to get undressed?”

She started yanking his shirt up, but he jerked away from her before she could get it very far.

“I said no. Do it right.”

“What’s right for you?” She sounded peevish.

“On your knees.”

She looked at the worn carpet on the floor, the dining table and the chairs around it, puzzled. “Where?”

“Here. Suck.” He planted himself in the chair with his legs apart. He turned his head away from her and studied the drawing as the girl got on her knees and started rubbing his inner thighs, the bare V of his stomach where his jeans were open. She nudged him out and rubbed for a while, then lowered her head over him.

“Wait. Put this on.” He dropped a condom on the floor beside her.

“Geez,” she muttered. She tore the foil, pulled it out, and unrolled it.

He watched her to see that she did it right, put it on so that none of her filthy germs could get inside. All the way up he wanted it. She pulled it all the way up.

He looked at his drawing some more as she put her mouth around him and squeezed tight with her lips. She moved up and down, slowly at first and then hard.

“That’s good, more tongue,” he said. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and reached for her tits. He couldn’t get to them. Both her hands and her mouth were working on him. He tried to get into it.

Finally he stood up, moved her aside like a piece of furniture, and went into the bathroom to take a leak. When he came back, she was on the same place on the floor. On her hands and knees wiggling her ass at him like a picture come alive from a nudie magazine.

“You didn’t come, did you?”

He sat down again, ignoring her.

“Let’s try something else,” she said.

He looked at her. She was up, up, up, showed no signs of fatigue even though she’d been at him for thirty minutes at least. He’d lost interest. He had his true purpose in mind now.

“Hey, whatever your name is. Come on.” Her tongue darted in and out of her mouth as she wagged her tail.

He laid his pens out. Then he carefully put the transfer paper over the design and taped the edges.

The girl frowned. “Hey, do me now,” she said.

“Go take a nap.”

“I don’t want to take a nap.” She stuck her tongue in his ear. “Come on, you want a good time, don’t you?” She began moving against him, rubbing her pointy breasts back and forth across his arm, nuzzling his neck.

“Beat it. I’m busy.”

“I wanna do it,” she whined. “Come on, let’s fuck.”

“Later.”

“I don’t wanna do it later.” She backed away from him so he could get a better view of her. “Hey, look.” She posed, standing a few different ways, then bent over so he could see her crotch, anus, everything.

He wasn’t looking, though. He paid no attention to her as she crawled under the table. Suddenly her head poked up between his legs and she had him in her hand. A firm grip on his balls and cock. He jumped a foot.

“What the fuck? Get away from me, you crazy cunt.” He pushed her away furiously.

“But I’m not finished. I want to do it,” she complained.

“You want it so much, do it to yourself.”

She put one hand on her hip and tossed her blond hair impatiently. “Hey, don’t you have what it takes?”

He reddened. She had no idea what he could do to her. The big wave rose, almost taking over. Then he glanced down at his beautiful drawing and his true purpose. Willy told him to let it go. He let the wave go back.

“I said I’m busy now. Do it to yourself.”

“All right.” She sniffed angrily and put her hand to her crotch. She had a very small tuft of light brown hair. She started exploring it with her fingers. She became engrossed almost immediately.

For a minute or two she stood there swaying in front of him, dancing to the music in her head with both hands teasing at her crotch. Then suddenly she squatted on her heels and shoved her two fingers as deep inside as she could get them.