Well, another duel, and another tough decision. There’s a lot to like in both stories.
The prompt was about a character that has failed to achieve a goal repeatedly, and is changing his or her tactics to succeed in an unconventional manner.
“Is your pussy wet?”
Aiko instinctively flinched. Not just because of the vulgarity of the comment, but the fact that it was whispered breathily right into her ear unexpectedly. Her very next emotion was anger, which was quickly replaced by annoyance.
“Are you wearing panties right now?”
Aiko bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Why her?
“What color are they?”
She didn’t keep stats or anything, but this was probably the 3rd time this month. She wasn’t sure if it was something about her specifically, or if that many of her fellow citizens were that fucking depraved. The latter thought was more unsettling.
“I want to feel that wet slit of yours.”
She felt a subtle, repetitive motion behind her. Great, this one’s rubbing himself, she thought. Just leave me alone.
The obvious reaction would be to remove herself from the situation, but an 8:30am train on Tokyo’s Marunouchi line created certain tactical obstacles. She certainly couldn’t exit the speeding train. It was so crowded she couldn’t even navigate the space to turn her head to look at the creep. This is one big reason why the Chikan like to operate on the morning trains.
“Mmm, I bet it tastes so good.”
Pretty much every girl Aiko knew had experienced this at least once (and Aiko had almost punched one girl that lamented on what it meant that she hadn’t). She had tried almost everything. Going for the corners (not easy among the hundreds in the car), trying to ride the womens’ only car (not easy among the hundreds of other asylum seekers), asking to stop (they got off on that), wearing boring clothes or skipping makeup (she didn’t keep that up, because fuck them, she looked good). Couldn’t avoid the train either as traversing aboveground across the most populous metropolitan area in the world is not an efficient process.
So, she dealt with it the way her government did: mostly silently.
“So sweet. Like honey!”
She glanced to those around her. Either they couldn’t hear him over the train, or they were ignoring him. She exhaled in annoyance through her nostrils. Glancing at the real time station map, she saw her stop was coming up. Finally. She decided to just deal with this and go. At least this one wasn’t fucking touching her–
Aiko felt a slight, sweaty hand run itself down her arm, then down the outside of her leg, where it squeezed her thigh just above the knee. The agility and deftness of the motion made her feel especially disgusted.
After a shitty week so far, this was the absolute last thing she needed. Her teeth bit into her lip so hard, she taste blood. And with that, she stopped. Smiled.
“I wanna stick my–”
The voice halted suddenly as a slight, sweaty hand gently crawled up the owner’s leg. This was a first. It playfully tiptoed with its fingers closer and closer. Aiko heard a breath caught in a throat.
Like silk, the hand slid up an erect penis, to which the base it was connected to shuddered. Then the hand sashayed, and embraced the testicles with a careful, delicate squeeze.
Aiko raised an eyebrow.
And then clenched her fist as hard as she possibly could.
K: Bastard had it coming. Wheeeeee, this ending made me happy. Every now and then on The Amazing Race, players are forced to ride public transit, and this kind of nonsense happens often. I’m glad you resisted the urge to go too far with this; Aiko’s power would have been dampened if she’d even spoken a single line. I love this response, and in turn, Aiko herself.
MN – This is a really good slice of life story, that actually connects us to a world and character that is foreign (to me at least). I approve heartily of the conclusion. The journey there was longer than needed, and this certainly could have used more showing – descriptions of the smells, the heat of the crowd, etc.
She dropped the pregnancy stick into the trash can, wiped and left the bathroom. Spooning up against Max, she let herself sink into his sleepy heat.
“No,” she whispered into his back and let the tears come.
“We can’t afford any more, Brie.” He squeezed her hand on his belly.
He turned over and held her while the sobs shook her body.
It took surprisingly little makeup to turn her into a much older woman; the last few months had certainly taken their toll on her face. Add a cap of short, gray curls and a dumpy coat . . . Grandma.
Papa don’t preach, I’m in trouble deep,
She hooked her phone to the stereo system, humming as she adjusted the driver’s seat of the unfamiliar car.
Papa don’t preach, I’ve been losing sleep,
The Chuck E. Cheese on 45th and Vine had an appropriately full parking lot. She turned in and parked in the handicapped space in front. She strolled in, carrying a big black purse and a festive yellow gift bag.
Twenty minutes later, she strolled out with a screaming toddler in her arms. The little boy’s face was red and he held his arms out over her shoulder, “MAMAMAMA!” Brie smiled at the couple passing her on their way in. “They just really hate to leave!” The couple nodded in commiseration and she strapped the struggling child into the back seat of her car, clicking him securely into the car seat.
Once on Vine street, she removed her wig and fluffed out her hair, cranking the music up to cover the escalating screams from the back.
My friends keep telling me to give it up
Saying I’m too young, I ought to live it up
She was singing loudly as she pulled into the Walmart parking lot on 53th and Highland Drive. She pulled into a space at the very back, next to an idling Subaru. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I’m not ever going to let anything hurt you,” she crooned over the bench seat.
The back door swung open and Max stuck his head in, eyes falling on the sweaty and terrified little boy. “Darlin! You brought me a son!”
Bri climbed out and threw open the hatchback of the Subaru while Max used handi-wipes on the stolen car. She stuffed the wig and coat in one of the suitcases and latched it shut again. She leaned in and connected her phone, cranked the volume.
I’m keeping my baby, oh
I’m gonna keep my baby, mmm
“Grab Max, Jr., honey, and let’s hit the road.”
K: I’m legitimately pissed that the couple got away with this. At any rate, some kind of ending would have been a boon for this story; the tension is there and the action is done in a believable manner, but this story climaxes very early, and all kinds of tension built inside me that wasn’t paid off either way. An attempt at reclamation – even an unsuccessful one – would have made loads of difference. As is, we have one-half of a really effective story.
MN – Who let Shawn back into the contest? This reminds me so much of her most haunting stories… And after a week of training in child abuse cases… Shudder. I don’t think the song helped, and the line about “can’t afford” is a weird bit, but otherwise this is frightfully effective.
For the first time, we split. Novak picked the second story, while acknowledging that it was close; for me, it was the first one that stood out a little more, while I also recognize that I felt a lot for each story.
Annette, I’d just as soon destroy a stain-glassed window as yourself, given that it was another real good game, but here we are, since erik has outscored you this season.
Nineteenth Elimination from Spookymilk Survivor XVIII: Annette Barron
Now no more f*&^ing ties. Please?
The next one is due Tuesday night at 10pm Central.
TIME LIMIT: One hour
WORD LIMIT: None
Final five! If you survive another one, you get added to the Spookymilk Survivor Sporcle quiz! Cheers, Survivors.