Tuesday, May 4, 2010

“What A Stroke of Luck!!”

Cannes’ frustration hadn’t abated much. Throughout the month she’d been looking for work to no avail. She could only hope that her participation in the Queen of Magmaville pageant would help her to land her dream job at The Glamourous Beauty Salon, but was far too pragmatic to hold her breath. It was still a crap shoot after all.

In any case, between that and Clay not being around much to relieve another kind of frustration, the tax on her patience was really getting to her. So to cheer her up, Janet took her out to the Naked Lunch Café for a bite to eat and then maybe some thrift store hopping afterwards.

Stella and Pearl joined them. As the four of them split a plate of nachos and awaited their meal- sized salads, Janet sat attentively as Cannes ranted.

“All patience seems to do for me, for all this talk of bringing rewards, all it does is open the door for us to be subject to an incessant barrage of bullshit, really. And how much does whatever passes for The Good Lord Above In Heaven expect us to take, anyway? I mean, these empty promises and empty offers are getting real old. They can save it for the cornfields where it’ll do some real good, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Things are tough all over, darling.” Janet added. “You’ve been real good about grabbing the damned bull by the horns tho, to your credit.”

“Seems all this grabbing the bull by the horns stuff amounts to anymore is getting more bull than you probably actually want, really.” That was a real groaner on Pearl’s part. This statement was met with Stella and Cannes calling out “Moooooo!” in the same tones that one would use to yell, “Boooooo!” any time a crappy assed entertainer stunk up the stage.

Cannes cell phone rang just then. She answered with a slightly terse “Hello.”

It was Clay. He has his way of letting her know that he wants to get back together with her. Check this out, this is rich, dude!

“First I’m gonna rip the buttons of your blouse off with my teeth…”

It was obvious to Cannes where this was headed.

“…And then I’ll run my tongue around the base of your neck and maybe sink my teeth into your flesh…”

This was too good not to share with the rest of the group, Cannes decided. With that thought she put her index finger to her lips, indicating the need for everyone to keep quiet. Then she pressed the speaker button on her cell phone and cranked the volume up real loud.

“…While I tear off your blouse and reveal those beautiful tits of yours…and I hope to God that your not wearing any underwear coz I cannot wait to lick those titties like they were ice cream cones…”

With that all eyes within the perimeter of the Yossarian’s table turned to the spot where Cannes sat. She held the phone with one hand and her finger to her lips with the other. The frustration over the job search didn’t matter any more. All eyes and ears were focused intently as Clay continued.

“…I just adore how that makes you moan, and my hands cannot keep from fondling your beautiful body. How I miss that so much…”

This went on for – oh -- who knows how many minutes. However long it was, that was long enough for Clay to begin prattling about Cannes’ poontang. Right about then some random young mother and her 3 year old daughter were being ushered to a nearby empty table. As they passed the table where Cannes’ party congregated, the mother and child very clearly heard the word “Poontang.” Curious, the little girl yelled very loudly, “MOMMY, WHAT’S A POONTANG???”

That was loud enough for Clay to hear, as was the sound of the entire table busting up laughing!

“Haha, that’s real cute…real fucking cute. Where are you anyway?”

“Oh, I’m at the Naked Lunch café…”

“How appropos!”

“Yes, very…I’m having lunch with Mom, Stella and Pearl since I couldn’t join you guys at your parent’s place for the going away party. So are we on for dessert?”

“We’ll see. We shall however discuss this matter privately when you get home, young lady.” was all Clay had to say to that!

“Yes, dear.” Cannes replied, grinning wickedly. This day was getting better all the time.

Somehow between spurts of uncontrollable guffaws she managed to lecture Cannes (barely! snrk!) “You know, dear, you’re going to have to make it up to him for that!”

“I’m sure…it’s the least I can do for the lively way he’s entertained us all!” Cannes laughed along with the rest of the table.

That phone call came, btw, from within the confines of The Bauhaus Café. As it happened, Clay likewise had an audience there; one Milo Haskins who sat drinking his tea and eating his blackcurrant scone across from his stepson. He was having a hard time containing his own guffawing as he listened to Clay’s lusty spiel as it was, but when Clay announced, “Congradulate me, Pops! I’m a celebrity-slash-sex symbol now!” He damn near involuntarily spat out his sip of Earl Grey before succumbing to his own irresistable guffawing urges.

Jarvis didn’t quite give up on trying to contact Stella. He’d been calling her cell and calling the family’s land line just trying to get Stella to hear him out. But no one was having it.

His phone calls were bordering on completely harrassive, so it was no surprise that when the proprietor of The Glamourous Beauty Salon finally did get through that the entire family – Cannes included – automatically assumed that it was Jarvis calling again.

“Don’t nobody answer that!” Richard barked. The family waited for the voicemail to pick up yet another spate of Jarvis’ groveling. As they waited, Cannes wondered aloud, “Why do I get the feeling that the television will turn on by itself and that any second Emily the Strange is gonna come crawling out of the bottom of the well to kill us all?”

However, the entire family ended up breathing a huge sigh of relief as Andre Simmons, the proprietor of The Glamourous Beauty Salon began to leave a message. “Hullo, this message is for Candace Yossarian, this is Andre Simmons from The Glamourous Beauty Salon…!”

Cannes was suddenly ecstatic! She’d recognize that effeminate lilt anywhere. Excited, she answered the phone. The rest of the family were just glad that someone had called to block one of Jarvis’ phone calls and make him suffer through a busy signal. Serves him right, anyway.

Long story short, Cannes got her dream job at The Glamourous Beauty Salon! :-D

And to top it all off, She and Clay got back together again.

Richard, however, was extremely ambivalent about letting Jarvis anywhere near the Yossarian household, let alone in the Yossarian household. So he was in the process of changing the locks to keep that fuckhead from ever darkening their bedroom doors again. As he was working, Cannes offered to have duplicates made for all the girls in her family. Clay prudently decided not to ask to have one made for himself. He did not want to press his luck.

He did ride along with Cannes to the locksmith. She had just parallel parked almost directly in front of the place. Before she would even begin to take care of business, she had to be absolutely clear where she stood with Clay. So she asked. “Now, what about us?”

“I think with Jarvis out of the way, we can have a good make-up shag without any further interruptus getting in our way.”

“Well, yeah, but besides that. You know what you’re getting into by getting back with me, don’t you? After all, I don’t think it should be necessary to go on browbeating you about my medical condition. I shouldn’t think you enjoy that any more than I enjoy being browbeaten about it.”

“Well, Cannes, it’s not like I can’t ever come to terms with it. But here’s my thing; am I pushing my luck with your parents as far as you and I stand. I mean, if you and Stella were my daughters, after all.”

“I wouldn’t worry about what my parents have to say about us. After all, Baba’s enough of a badass that he wouldn’t judge you too harshly if he found you to be such a bad influence. It’s enough if you don’t press your luck with me, or if you do press your luck, press it in a way that it can get me off.” With that she winked at him and blew an air kiss.

“But seriously, tho, Clay, I just want you to be okay with it. I might be able to handle my disease on my own, but it would really suck if you weren’t around…that’s all.”

“Well, here’s my feeling on what’s been going on. Uncle Tom is dead, and Jarvis damn near killed your sister. I’m concerned that your parents won’t think much of me, seeing as I ran out on you the way I did.”

“You came back, didn’t you. As far as your Uncle Tom goes, nobody could tell him anything. And nobody in our family, not even I, really was happy with Jarvis. I would’ve loved to have been wrong in my suspicions about him, but no! Jarvis wouldn’t even allow anyone the luxury of proving even me wrong about him.

“Anyway, I think my parents understand that Stella and I are two different individuals who take our own approach to managing our lives, and trust that we’ll both learn some very valuable lessons from our own mistakes. Which is really as it should be…

“C’mere…” Cannes drew Clay in for a kiss. “You shouldn’t be afraid of what my parents think. They’re cool people. Even your mom and stepfather think so. Just keep being a man, okay.” She kissed him and said again. “Just keep being a man.”

Clay cranked up the volume on the car stereo as Grinderman launched into “When My Love Comes Down.” And the two of them began making out in the car while Nick Cave & the boys provided the background music.

And now for a weird interlude…

Clay agreed to meet Cannes at the house for dinner.

While she was in the shower getting ready, Cannes had cut herself shaving her legs. That’s nothing out of the ordinary considering that like most women, Cannes will make the most of a shower. She’ll wash her hair, lather her whole body, and – while she’s still soaped up – take the razor to her legs, her bikini area, and her armpits. So it’s not unusual to run the risk of cutting oneself shaving for anyone.

Anyway, she cut herself shaving, and even though she was still bleeding, she finished shaving. Then she rinsed off, shut off the shower, and began to dry off.

She had cut herself in two places that night; one nick was on the back of her left ankle. The other was in front of her right calf about 4 inches above the ankle. The back of her left ankle was bleeding a bit profusely…or so the mix of warm water and blood made it appear as if it were to her. In any case, she hurriedly dried off and reached for a band aid to cover the wound.

She sat on the toilet lid and bandaged the cut on her left ankle. Then she continued to dry off on her right leg. She noticed a new drop of blood well up immediately on her right leg, a nick that evidently hadn’t been accounted for. A small red bubble rested on the skin’s surface.

Curious, she wondered what kind of a reading she would get if she tested her blood glucose from that small drop of blood. She grabbed her testing kit and, bypassing the lancing device, inserted a test strip into her meter. She dipped the end of the strip in the blood, and five seconds later she got a reading of 96. Not a dangerous low at all, really. She might be able to get through cooking dinner for herself and Clay if she treated herself to some fruit juice pretty soon.

And now an exerpt from Clayton Burke’s diary:

“We’re in the Yossarian’s kitchen, Cannes and I, and she’s making a nice chicken curry. She’s beckoned me into the kitchen for a taste test. She knows I know my curry. Hot-assed Madras Curry, just like Mom learned to make from the many Indian cafés peppered throughout London Town.

“There’s a nice big wooden spoon in her right hand, with about 3 chunks of boneless chicken that look to be at least about 1 ½ inches apiece, swimming in this thick, bright yellow curry sauce, a little of which drips from the tip of the spoon onto the countertop. The smell of cumin and cilantro gate-crashes my nostrils as she brings the spoon to my mouth.

“Frankly I’m incredibly impressed. The hottest girl in the world succeeded in making the hottest curry I’ve ever had…and I’ve eaten some hot-assed curry in my time. I swear you’d actually have to go to Madras to find a curry more Madras than this curry. It’s just too exquisite! None of the other flavors have been overwhelmed by the cayenne and ginger combination. I can taste the chicken, bell pepper, cilantro, garlic, cumin, yoghurt…everything. And yet my eyes were watering. I’m pretty sure the impact of this curry has moved me to tears.

“I can feel a little of the sauce drip down the right side of my chin. She reached for my face and wiped it off my skin with her fingers…which she brought to my mouth. I sucked the sauce off them and before she can pull her hand away, I took those two fingers into my right hand and pulled them back to my lips to kiss them.

“Then I moved her hand back a bit to look at those lovely fingers and am suddenly sad for those fingers that have worked so hard I’m sure to concoct the best curry ever. Those two lovely fingers on her left hand are bearing some very visible puncture marks near the tips on the left side. And some of the puncture marks are in such close proximity that, particularly on the index finger they form two lines with several more puncture wounds nested between them. These lines, culled from countless glucose tests, could easily pass for paper cuts. And the puncture areas are calloused.”

“And what will you give me for this all important glucose test?” Cannes was just onery enough to test this self-appointed diabetes food cop she’d been banging for at least a couple of years now.

Poor Clay, only for her would he give head. It was not his favorite thing, but he was good at it when he absolutely had to be. The look in the Yossarian girl’s eye told him this would be one of those nights.

“Anything you want, my little warrior princess.”

“I love the way you think, darling.”

“But I want a good reading; none of this ‘below 90’ crap!”

“You drive a hard bargain, you mean old copper, you!” Cannes pouted.

“100 or better or nothing!” Clay stood firm on this one.

Clay liked to watch her prepare for the glucose test, even though it made him sad to see those lovely fingers punctured over and over again. I won’t lie to you gentle reader; describing the process by which one’s glucose is tested is getting a trifle monotonous. Shoving the lancet into the lancing device, shoving the test strip into the meter, lancing her finger, squeezing out a drop of blood, feeding it to the test strip, wait a few seconds, and hey presto! She got a reading of 114.

“Well, well!” Cannes purred slyly. “Looks like I’m at a safe place now.”

“Is that what you think?” Clay purred back, kissing her neck. “That’s rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

And with that she knew they would be enacting one of her favorite fantasies. Lestat has his way with her in the shower, and it turns into a re-enactment of the shower scene in The Hunger. Somehow the thought of The Thin White Duke himself giving anyone – let alone little ole Candace Yossarian – some head in the shower could only serve as fodder for sexual arousal to her happily twisted little mind. At this point she’d gladly settle for this cute little gnome she’d fallen in love with, who is now serenading her with really bad Bela Lugosi impersonations as he ran his lips and breathed along the base of her neck.

They began stripping each other naked and when the last evidence of fabric fell to the bathroom floor, Clay lifted his girlfriend gently into the shower…the second shower she’s had this evening. He’d set her on her feet again and the two of them resumed kissing. As they kissed, their hands fondled each other as a cascading stream of warm water ran down their bodies. Cannes grew more and more aroused with each caress. There was something about water that consistently proved to be a complete turn on for her…especially when it’s running over her body and over his body and between their bodies as they press up rubbing each other, making out hard and passionately. Before long she was ready to take him inside of her and just then Clay began to kneel down, kissing her down the front of her chest and belly as he lowered himself to her snatch. He then parted the hair covering her front cleft and plunged his mouth right on top of it, his tongue easily finding her clit, his warm breath breezing through her pubic hairs. The way his tongue works is one of God’s greatest mysteries, she often mused to herself as she tried her best to stand still while his tongue worked its magic on her clit, his hands fondling her backside as the water continued to cascade down and around their bodies.

After a shower like that, the two of them couldn’t much less wouldn’t wait to towel off. They shut off the shower and head right for the bedroom. And he’d penetrate her with a mild vengeance just the way she liked it. As the two of them groped and writhed on the bed, Cannes would close her eyes and begin to visualize a giant mirror installed in the ceiling directly over the bed. She would imagine seeing Clay’s backside move as he writhed and grinded inside her. This visualization added to the arousal for Cannes, and she would writhe all the more urgently to his rhythm. And then she’d ejaculate – yes, women do ejaculate – holding him tightly as her body contorted to the commands of a much needed release. This would always bring Clay to climax; the thought that he could last long enough to make the woman he loves climax. And so the two of them would cling to each other tightly, let their bodies explode into space, and just become part of a much larger entity that could only be called ONE!

The two of them finished their mating dance, and began to doze off for a post-coital nap.

It was a dark and stormy night…

Clay had just returned from using the bathroom and crawled back into bed with Cannes. His ass tingled. “Man, it felt good to take a crap!” he thought.

A loud crash of thunder rang through the sky, totally unnerving him. He clung much closer to his lover, who by this time was likewise completely rattled by the noise. She held him tightly as well.

They laid there silently in each other’s arms for awhile, relieved that they weren’t very close to a window at the moment. Waiting for their nerves to settle down, they were hoping the downpour of rain would lull them back to sleep. No such luck, though. Cannes felt a piss coming on. She made her way to the toilet and decided not to turn on the bathroom light. She didn’t know why she thought the lightning would find her if she did, but all she knew was that she wanted to avoid being struck by lightning by all means. She emptied out and when she finished she returned to bed, wrapping her leg around Clay’s hip. She could tell by his erection that he was having a bit of trouble falling asleep as well.

He finally spoke. “If you had announced that you had to pee right before that massive thunderclap went off, hoo boy!” He then started cracking up.

So did Cannes. Her cunt churned. She wanted to fuck. “Can you imagine holding that much water inside of you?” She asked, referring to the massive storm that was pouring down all kinds of rain outside. Clay’s fingers wasted no time making their way down to her pubes. Her snatch was wet and squishy. She squirmed at his touch and gushed all the more.

“Between this storm and this woman…” Clay thought, but couldn’t quite finish the sentence in his head. Nor could he keep from penetrating this woman beside him, either. Her moisture was too irresistable. His cock was going for a swim!

“I’d be hella thundering myself!” Cannes chuckled. Both her legs encircled around his hips and criss-crossed under his buttocks as they gyrated slowly and gently. “I’d be like, ‘Oh God, I gotta piss so bad!’ And then…” She tried to imitate the thunder noise. The two of them busted up laughing.

“Can you imagine…” Clay could barely speak, he was laughing so hard. Additionally Cannes was squirming and gyrating in time to his thrusts. “If we had started fucking awhile earlier, and right when either one of us started to cum…” Then he attempted to mimic the thunder, too.

They were both laughing uncontrollably as he was sliding in and out of that jacuzzi between her legs. Her hips were practically spinning around him as he moved. Then amidst all the laughter she began to cry out, “Aah, ah, ah, ah, ah…”

Then just to get one more laugh out of this, he fakes a sneeze and imitates the thunder again. That makes them laugh all the more, but she couldn’t hold her orgasm back any longer. Every cell in her body tightened up as she exploded inside. This triggered an explosion that came from deep within Clay’s body as well. As the two of them shared this climax together, they awaited another massive thunderclap to make its exclamation point. But none came. There was only the steady torrential rain pouring down hard, flooding the streets all over town.

Sensing this, Cannes remarked, “This town is probably as horny as I am right now. It’s super-fucking-drenched, just like me!”

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