The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Michael Hemmingson by Michael Hemmingson

Author:Michael Hemmingson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472100535
Publisher: Constable & Robinson

The Dress Recovered

The Dress was but a piece of cloth, and it was no longer with us. Nicole had it.

Nicole wouldn’t answer our phone calls the next week. We called every day. Finally, she phoned and said to stop. She said it was over. She said she didn’t want to see us again. This only made Ashley cry.

“There’s something missing in me,” Ashley said. She stayed in bed all Saturday.

It wasn’t Nicole that was missing. I had to get it back for her. Sunday, I went to Nicole’s loft, alone. The door was unlocked. I went in and called her name. I went up to the bedroom. No one there. I looked through her clothes. I came down, and Nicole was standing under the light from the ceiling, wearing The Dress.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I had to come,” I said.

“You broke into my place.”

“It was unlocked.”

“Leave,” she said. She smiled, and said, “Let your fantasies run away with you . . . and you wind up fucked. I’m tired of playing with people who can’t play the game for real.”

“The Dress,” I said, “doesn’t belong to you.”

“Oh?” She walked around like she was modeling the fabric. “This dress?” she said. “It doesn’t belong to me? Is this what you came back here for? Why? So poor little Ashley can parade her legs and ass around in it for you? So you can get off having other men look at her? You like it when they look at her, don’t you? But you don’t like it if they have her. Look, but don’t touch. You’re such a fucking hypocrite, you know that?”

“I’m not leaving without it,” I said.

“Fine, fine,” she said. She pulled The Dress up and off her, and she was naked. She held The Dress out. “Come on,” she said, “and take it.”

I went to her, cautious; she had something planned. She was smiling. Just as I reached out for it, she let it go. I bent down to pick it up. Nicole put a foot on my shoulder.

“Just for the hell of it,” she said. “Just for old times’ sake, since we’ll never see each other again, you want to fuck the shit out of me?”

In a more noble story, where I was a more noble man, I would have walked away. I would have laughed. I would have hit her. But, looking up at her in splendid nudity, my libido, once again, called the shots. I grabbed at her. I took her on the floor. I fucked her in a demented vehemence. I slapped her across the face. I pulled at her hair. I bit at her neck and back and face. I shoved myself up her ass. I came in her.

Spent, I lay on the floor. Nicole got up, catching her breath, her face streaked with red marks, smeared make-up, her breasts, neck, and back clawed from my bites and lacerations. “Goddamn you,” she said, “God-fucking-damn-you,” and she ran toward her bedroom. I glanced up, and standing above me were Serge and Tina.

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