Entrained
I saw her on the El, on my way home from the coffeeshop; just another cheap slut. She swayed on the train, all swivelling hips and flecks of rain that slicked down an impossibly tight blue latex dress, sparkling heels clicking on the gritty filthy plastic floor.
She was made up like a doll, with red lips like pillows and blue smokey eyeliner around blue smokey eyes; foggy eyes. She didn’t look smart, and she didn’t look like she needed to be. She was wearing a band of something black around her neck, like a choker.
It was hot, despite the rain, and I had seen a lot of slutty-looking girls in cut-off shorts or bikini-like halters; even I was dressed a little more freely than my usual conservative clothes, in a midriff-skimming top and a jean skirt. But she wasn’t dressed to fight the heat; it must be swampy hot under that latex. She was dressed up like a fetish doll, and it made my heartbeat fast.
I’d been dealing with the fact I might be attracted to women lately, trying to swallow it in tiny sips, but she was threatening to drown me. The rain or maybe her sweet sweat was trickling down her blank face, the side of her neck, the curve of her breasts, and spilling over down the latex like a second skin.
Everyone looks blank on the El—it’s a cultivated skill for survival in the big bad city—but I’d never seen eyes as blank and misty as hers. She had headphones on, and I began to wonder what she was listening to. I’ve been reading a lot of stories about things like that, listening to some files, and maybe my imagination was running away with me. I don’t want anyone to collar me, but it’s a hot fantasy, isn’t it?
So maybe the headphones made me think dirty things. So what? It was just a fantasy; I’m sure all the men on the train were thinking filthy things about her. It’s what she was for, she existed to make cocks hard, and if she was making my pulse race and dampness spread between my legs, I was just... collateral damage.
I would swear to God her lips were moving. I tried to read what they were saying, my eyes flickering from her red swollen lips (was the lipstick smudged just a little at the corner?) to her empty eyes, wishing so badly I knew what her iPod (slick and glossy as her second skin, peeking out of a ridiculous pink vinyl bag too small and impractical to be anything but an accessory as frilly and girly as the giant hoops in her ears) was whispering to her.
We rode around the loop twice before I realized. I knew what I was waiting for—or rather, I wasn’t waiting for anything, I was just kind of fascinated—but what was she waiting for? She was just going around and around, looping, listening. I strained my eyes trying to confirm my suspicion, that she really was looping, listening to the same file again and again. I strained my eyes, barely hiding my fixation on her, but I couldn’t see. It just left my eyes tired and so, so heavy. I sunk back in my seat and let my weary eyes drift back to her foggy ones.
Her lips were moving; after a minute, I realized, so were mine. I didn’t know what she was saying—what i was saying—but i was mouthing along with her anyway. i took a piece of gum from my purse—much bigger, much more practical, holding my laptop full of work and three novels and the last Scott Pilgrim comic and my Moleskine and my wallet and yes, my gum—and i chewed it. Some kind of instinct to hide myself and why my lips were moving.
Besides, my mouth felt... so empty.
The wheels of the train went tick tock tick tock tick tock over the rails and my mouth felt soooo empty.
(tick tock suck cock never stop)
i took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. How many times had we looped? I had to get off the train... but were we even anywhere near my stop now? i took another deep breath, and let it out, trying not to panic. i took another.
It was working really well. i wasn’t panicking at all anymore.
breathe iiin mist
i felt fine
breath out miiiind
and besides I could almost read her lips now. she was sayin something about girls.
girls should be—
TICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCK
girls should be pretty—
(tocktick, lick clit, never quit)
The door opened; i looked up dully, my jaw chawing slowly, vacantly. My stop. The door closed.
We looped.
i had to wait soo long for her to get back to where she had been, but this time i got it.
girls should be pretty pleasure puppets like me.
Ahh. I felt a cold shock, somehow distant. i was right. she was being programmed, like in one of my fantasies.
i got up, my legs shaky. i forgot my bag, all my stuff, my whole life in there, and i teetered over to her. i had to hear it; i had to know for real. if she was as mindless as i looked, she wouldn’t even notice. then i could...
i could...
call the cops or something. yeah.
i plucked the earbud from her ear and put it to mine. There was some kind of deep, throbbing tone behind the words, and for a minute i couldn’t hear anything else. It made my head ache and sing, the same way my cunt did sometimes in the middle of a really good fuck, throbbing and unearthly good, like a part of me that wasn’t mine anymore.
my legs were so wobbly, as if i were the one wearing the six-inch heels. i sank beside her on the bench. just for a minute.
good girls don’t think. I don’t think. YOU don’t think.
she said. The file said. i said.
my limp hand fell on her thigh, on the slick surface of her dress, and slid off; touched hot flesh. m could feel the wet heat of her baking from between her legs, and it drew my hand like a magnet. Of course she wasn’t wearing panties. i touched my first pussy—no, it was a cunt, hot and soaked and swollen, and it sucked my fingers in greedily.
i knew exactly what to do; i did it to myself all the time. and i could feel it, all the things i was doing to her buzzing in my own clit and dampening my own cunt
(and my wet cunt makes me a slave and slavery makes my cunt wet and)
and it took what seemed like forever to realize it was because she was touching me, her hand pushed up my own jean skirt and pressing to me through my lacy purple thong, barely there, perfect for this heat.
This incredible heat.
Someone is going to notice, I thought, with the tiny shred of mind I had left. Two girls fingering each other on the El... not totally unheard of, I’m sure, but surely someone will notice. Say something. Save us.
Someone stood up and started walking towards us. A Man.The only person left in the car.
He’ll save us, I thought, muddled and desperate. please don’t just walk by, i need you.
He stopped in front of us; pulled the headphones from our ears. The bimbo looked up at him in slack adoration; so did I. He stroked her hair. “Good girl. Sorry I made you wait so long, but it looked like you’d caught something interesting.”
please, i thought again, watching her arch against his hand like a happy cat, filled with a confused need and jealousy, i NEED You.
“it’s okay, Master,” she giggled, and I shivered.
Master.
(Master’s will is strong. my will is slave.)
i had to...
something.
He touched my forehead with a fingertip and the thought escaped; dripped down my leg. My eyes tried to focus on his finger, crossed, and rolled up.
“Good girl,” he said. “Your mind is almost gone.”
my lips moved. “almost gone.” i felt my gum spill out of my slack jaw and my mouth felt sooo empty again.
“Eva, help your little friend cum her mind away.”
“Yes, Master!!”
no, I thought; and then ‘I’ stopped existing. Only i remained.
It’s a good life. i live on a big farm in Iowa and i never have to think anymore. we take turns doing the dishes and cooking; eva says its soooo great to have someone to share the chores and lick her while she programs herself, deeper and deeper every day, and i know she loves doing it for me, too. It’s a good life.
Sorry if you stepped in my gum.