The First and Last
One Night Stand of
Pam Dora

by Ethan Georgi (12 Dec 94)

Who was it who said " The ultimate pleasure is to surrender unto me?" I remember when I found him, he was staggering like a hopeless drunken fool in the trash and blackness of that alley on Washington and Ninth. He didn't have a shirt on and his bare chest was sickly white. He was barefoot and his black jeans looked soaked with rain. His hair was long and wet with sweat and hung in his face. He collapsed next to a dumpster and a long fingered hand touched his quivering dark lips. "Help me...." he stammered, breathlessly.

That's how it began. I should've ran away then, I should've left him alone, but I didn't. I couldn't. It really made no sense why I did it.

I got him back to my flat and told him where everything was, and as he moved to shut the bathroom door behind him I saw the blood on his face. He walked out of the bathroom a while later, after showering and such, and it was all dark now, the only light was the TV. I offered him a seat but he said and did nothing, like I hadn't said a thing to him. He stood and I sat, and I asked him his name. It sounded foreign, I had him repeat it twice, I didn't understand him. Noctem? Nocten? Noctim? I gave up. Mine's Pamela.

And the TV was on, I had been watching reruns of Matlock. He looked at it like it was a little boy spying him and his fiancee.

He looked at me, and the room got even darker until it fell away and all I could see was the silver points of his eyes. Then I lost all sense of the room around me, like floating. And I couldn't hear Andy Griffith any more, and I couldn't smell my musty couch, only. . .only that smell of a lovers flesh.

I fell out of the sofa and back to myself, shaking suddenly. His eyes followed me down onto the floor, and he stepped to tower over me. I felt a throbbing pain in my side from the wood floor, and I thought he was offering to give me a hand up, but his hand touched my waist and he knelt beside me.

This was puzzling, was he going to help me? But when his other hand touched me I recalled everything I knew about rape. Every muscle in me tensed, panic mixed with adrenalin to paralyze my efforts to shake free. But then he said softly, like a lullaby, "Surrender." His voice was soothing. Was he going to rape me or what, what was he doing? "I can do noting unless you submit to me."

"What?!" I blurted out.

"Shhhh...Be still. I will not harm you. Submit..." the syllables flowed out and melted together, calming, believeable. I gave in because something told me to, something inside me.

I closed my eyes.

That's how it went.

Then my blouse came loose and I felt his hands, cold with warmth beneath the skin, sliding under the silk of my brassiere. His wet hair hung in my face and his countenance became a shadow. He kissed me, his lips were soft and I felt my tongue against his sharp teeth. His kisses were warm and loving, as though we were lovers meeting again for the first time.

His hands drifted to the denim on my legs, and I suddenly felt the frozen night air on the bare flesh of my inner thighs. I became aware that my hands were clawing at his back, and as he kissed my neck I could taste the blood I'd drawn on his shoulders. I felt the coarse dampness of denim against my legs, felt it moving slowly, fluid against me.

One of my hands pulled at the silk panties till they ripped, and I dragged them across my naked skin while he backed into the shadows beyond my reach. I felt the soft sliding whiteness against my cheek, then threw it away.

I reached for him and found myself on top of his body. I began to claw at his chest and kiss his lips with a fury. "No..." he murmured in my mouth. "Give in to me. . ."

I swallowed for fear he would leave me.

His hands slid onto the backs of my thighs and pulled me over him, and his teeth scraped the giving flesh of my breast. And his arms wrapped around me and ran through my hair, I felt something like pain and I think I gasped, but then it was this pulsing luxury as he nursed. I'd say it would feel like a a baby nursing at it's mother, but I don't know about babies and me. I squeezed him to me, crushed him with all that panic and adrenalin and he was still to far away.

But everything was fading away, like I was sinking in a watery heaven, like liquid bliss, numbing, onyx, electric, ecstatic, drowning, can't breath! . . . .

It felt so good to die. So very delicious.

I want to do it again.