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Viewing the local antiquities

 
 
True names 


Dramatis personae
Angel: A whore
John: Her client
The mama-san

Scene
A Victoriaville brothel.

The action

Act I, Scene 1
The brothel foyer. Left: The door to the dorms. Right: The door to the staircase that leads up to the waiting room and the cubes. Center: The door to the street, barred and locked.

(Sound of a doorbell)

(MAMA-SAN enters from left. Fat, white tracksuite, trainers. She goes to the street door, peers through the peephole, pulls back the bar, untwists the lock, opens the door)

(Enter JOHN. Blue jeans, white shirt, boat shoes. Leather shoulderbag)

MAMASAN: Yes?

JOHN: Angel, please.

(Mama-san points to bag, gestures Open!)

(John holds bag open; Mama-san inspects bag)

MAMASAN: (Burst of Korean)

(Burst of Korean from behind the door to the dorm)

MAMASAN: Angel just go shopping.

JOHN: When will she be back? I'm one of her regulars.

MAMASAN: Name?

JOHN: Mark.

MAMASAN: I call her. One half hour.

JOHN: What time is it now?

MAMASAN: (Burst of Korean) 4:30.

JOHN: I'll be back at 5:00.

MAMASAN: Not 5:30, not 5:15. 5:00.

JOHN: Of course.

(JOHN exits through street door)

(MAMA-SAN locks door, throws bolt. Taking cell phone from pocket exits through door dorm, dialling, raising phone to her ear)

Act I, Scene 2
Angel's cube. A bed; a chair. Opposite the bed, a curtained window with a new air conditioner; a nightstand next to the bed. On the nightstand, a boombox, a vase of silk flowers, air freshener, baby oil, lube, a porcelain bowl full of peppermints, a box of kleenex, a lamp, a notebook with a flowery cover. A mirror at the head of the bed. The door to the waiting room hall is opposite the foot of the bed. Pegs for hanging clothes on the wall to the right of the door. A mat for shoes to the left of the door.

Door opens. ANGEL enters, in uniform: orange bra, orange floral dress, flip-flops. Her hair is gathered up in a spangly scrungy that rattles when she takes it off. She leads JOHN by the hand. JOHN releases her hand, steps out of his shoes, bends down and places them by the door.

ANGEL: Did you miss me? Do you feel at home?

JOHN: Yes; yes.

(Interlude: Concludes with JOHN naked, his clothes over the back of the chair)

(ANGEL sits on the side of the bed, looks up. Pauses)

JOHN: Oh! I almost forgot.

ANGEL: I didn't want to ask.

(JOHN goes to chair, gets wallet from pocket of jeans, extracts money, returns wallet. ANGEL stands. JOHN hands money to ANGEL)

JOHN: For the house.

(JOHN extracts money from wallet again, puts it by the lamp on the nightstand)

ANGEL: Lie down and relax. (Leaves by hall door)

(JOHN fiddles with the boombox, finally leaving it off; lies down on the bed, hands behind his head, on his back)

(Five minute wait. The door opens)

Act II, Scene 1
Brothel shower room. Tiled walls and floor. At left, the water tank. At right, a low door with drawn plastic shower curtain. A towel hangs from the curtain rod fixture. Shower table has head to the water tank, foot to the door. Small pillow for a chinrest at the head of the table. Always the sound of water splashing, running, spilling, gurgling.

JOHN, naked, soaped up, face down on the table with his chin on the pillow. ANGEL, in uniform with white towel round her waist, is washing him.

(Interlude: ANGEL washes JOHN: Shoulders, back, ass, anus, legs, feet. Rinse, repeat)

ANGEL: Turn over, please!

(Interlude: ANGEL washes JOHN: Armpits, arms, belly, legs, balls, cock. ANGEL soaps and erects JOHN's cock)

ANGEL: He's strong!

JOHN: When can I wash you?

ANGEL: At your house!

(ANGEL scoops a bucket of water and pours it out over JOHN, rinsing him. Repeat)

ANGEL: Sit up, please!

(JOHN sits up on the table, dangling his legs)

(ANGEL scoops a bucket of water and pours it over JOHN's head, chest, crotch. Repeat)

ANGEL: Stand, please!

(JOHN stands, spreading his legs wide and extending his arms)

(ANGEL unwraps the towel from around her waist, kneels, dries JOHN's shins, thighs, crotch, ass. She tweaks JOHN's cock.)

ANGEL: He missed me!

(ANGEL stands, dries John's belly, armpits, wraps the towel round him, knots it at the front)

(JOHN holds the towel closed with his left hand)

ANGEL: Come with me, please.

(She takes JOHN's free right hand, throws back the shower curtain, and leads him from the room)

(JOHN lowers his head as they step through the low door)

Act III, Scene 1
ANGEL's cube. The light is dim, but not so dim that shadows are not thrown. The boombox plays Norah Jones. ANGEL is naked. Her uniform hangs from the wallpegs to the right of the door. Her flipflops are on the mat to the left of the door.

JOHN on his back on the bed, hands under his thighs, pulling them back. His legs are spread wide in the air. ANGEL stands naked at the foot of the bed, between JOHN's legs, bending her head down to his crotch. Sounds of ANGEL lapping and sucking. Sounds of JOHN moaning.

ANGEL: Don't put your legs down.

(Interlude: ANGEL straightens, steps to the nightstand, gets lube. JOHN lowers his legs, puts his feet down on the bed, knees up. With her back to JOHN, ANGEL takes a condom foilpack from her waistband, unwraps the condom, and puts it into mouth, throws the pack into the wastebasket. ANGEL returns to the foot of the bed; JOHN returns to his pose, pulls thighs even further back. ANGEL loads her index finger, puts the lube down on the bed, wall-side. ANGEL lays the load along JOHN's asscrack, puts her left hand finger index up JOHN's anus, starts pumping. ANGEL lowers her head, takes JOHN's cock between two fingers, sinks her mouth over him, starts bobbing her head. Sounds of suction from ANGEL; liquid noises; slurping. Sounds of JOHN moaning.)

(JOHN puts two hands on ANGEL's head, lifts. JOHN lowers his legs. ANGEL straightens)

ANGEL 'o'y?

JOHN I beg your pardon?

ANGEL Doggy!

JOHN Yes!

(Interlude: JOHN scrambles up to a kneeling position. ANGEL goes to the side of the bed, climbs on. JOHN gets behind her. ANGEL presents)

Act III, Scene 2
ANGEL's cube.

JOHN is alone. He steps forward into the light.

Now I can tell you what I feel when I fuck a whore doggy style.

Technically, Angel's like Annie, retired polytropic long lost Annie: She gives me good sound. But her flesh is firmer, more resilient, then Annie's was, so the thwack of my belly and thighs slamming her cheeks strikes higher on the scale; the sensation at impact is springier. And Angel—head down, presenting—gives me a whispery Yes at each instroke, right when I've driven most deeply into her.

Angel's cheeks, like Annie's, are ample, but her downside is this: When she's on all fours, I, kneeling behind her, haven't yet found the adjustment to make so I can start pistoning: Our heights are mismatched. By holding onto her cheecks, pulling back, and rocking my pelvis lower, I can seat myself in her the way that I like, ease myself into her jammy bloodwarmth, feeling—somehow, through the latex—the stiff bush circling her "poosy" prickle the sides of my shaft, but I never feel balanced. I can't, as I could with Annie, accelerate: Exhilarated, gallop, gallop gallop gallop gallop—

Still, Angel offers a service Annie did not, an ace in the hole: If, when fully housed in her, I pause, she will greet me: A cheerful, friendly surprise: She will tighten her sheath round my shaft: Mainsqueeze me: Cuntshake me: a low smile. Such a very small intimacy!

Not, though, in the session just passed.

Perhaps she wasn't ready to summit: Through lingering delicacy I didn't ask her to prime herself, by rubbing one out before penetration.

Though if actors can cry, Angel can not only kegel, but lubricate, whenever she feels like it.

Strange to think that when Angel presents—when she exposes her business end—exposes her cheeks, her peephole-sized anus, her puffed lips—a whiff of her littoral seepage—she's submitted an offer to sell.

And I bought. Her.

Did I buy the rights to her image? May I use her in the service of art? My mother made poems of me, when I was a child.

Act IV, Scene 1
Angel's cube.

ANGEL and JOHN on the bed, post-coitus.

ANGEL: I have lots of energy: I took a pill.

JOHN: Don't take too many.

ANGEL: I want to lose weight.

JOHN (Patting her): You are perfect the way that you are.

ANGEL: I go to the gym, too.

JOHN: One, OK. Two, five, ten, 100—not good.

(Interlude)

JOHN: I saw some pretty sandals in Printemps and thought of you.

ANGEL: Have you been there?

JOHN: Yes.

ANGEL: They play music there. Every day at 5:00.

JOHN: They have an organ.

ANGEL: A piano.

JOHN: No, a piano makes its sound by striking (drums wall with fingers). But an organ, like this: (purses lips, whistles). You must be careful, though. In English, "organ" has two meanings. This, and this, they are organs too.

ANGEL: (Laughs)

JOHN: (Yawns)

ANGEL: You are sleepy. You want to spend the night.

(ANGEL rises onto one elbow, gets a tissue from the nightstand, reaches down to JOHN's crotch, collects his condom into the tissue, stands, goes to the nightstand)

Act IV, Scene 2
Angel's cube.

ANGEL and JOHN coupling missionary style. Their sounds. Sound of bedframe creaking.

JOHN: Please put your arms around me again.

(Interlude: ANGEL and JOHN coupling missionary style. Their sounds. Sound of bedframe creaking. Sound of bedstead banging wall)

JOHN: Hello!

(Interlude: After an interval, JOHN withdraws carefully, slides down the bed, lays head between ANGEL's breasts)

ANGEL: I'm sweaty.

JOHN: (Embraces her more completely)

ANGEL: Fifteen minutes on the treadmill!

JOHN: (Laughs)

ANGEL: You got it!

(ANGEL stands, goes to the window, turns on the airconditioner, returns to the side of the bed)

Act V, Scene 2
Angel's cube. ANGEL in uniform, JOHN dressing.

ANGEL: I feel like a doctor who has failed.

JOHN: Don't worry about it.

(JOHN, dressing completed, tightens his belt, checks for his wallet, steps into his shoes. Reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen)

JOHN: There's something I've been meaning to do. In case you leave—

ANGEL: (Shakes head)

JOHN:—I want to give you an email address that I use.

(ANGEL goes to the nightstand, gets the notebook. They sit together by the side of the bed.)

JOHN: (Takes notebook. Writes down email address, pronouncing each letter)

JOHN: That is an underscore.

JOHN: (Completes address)

ANGEL: Why so long?

JOHN: (Looks at her)

ANGEL: (Takes pen) I write "writer" next to your name.

(ANGEL stands, returns the notebook to the nightstand. JOHN stands)

ANGEL: Oh, your shoes are already on!

(JOHN puts bag over shoulder. ANGEL takes JOHN by the hand, leads JOHN to the door, opens it, leads JOHN out, closes door)

{290}




3 Comments:

Welcome back, JP. And a glorious re-entry at that, so to speak.

By Blogger dangerouspenguin, at October 10, 2004 8:03 PM  

John,
you sound so lonely sometimes. Hope you are well.

By Blogger Jenn, at October 11, 2004 8:59 AM  

Thanks, dangerous penguin! And thanks for asking, Jenn.

By Blogger John Psmyth, at October 11, 2004 5:39 PM  

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