| Chapter 32 (1973) pt 5
1973
It was Friday, February 9th, and the snow had begun to fall toward the early morning.
I can vaguely remember the time being four o’ five as I climbed out of bed and scuffled
tiredly into the bathroom. The incessant throbbing in my bladder felt like a water balloon
stretched to capacity and about to burst. Not wanting to shock my eyes by turning on the
light, I felt for the toilet seat. Lifting it to the upright position, I began peeing. As the steady
stream of liquid made its way into the bowl, I began to think silently,
“Three hours from now, I’ll be on the school bus.”
I saw a brilliant white sky and snow coming down like soft feathers through my bathroom
window. Since there was hardly any wind at all, the snow sort of fell against the background
of three communal streetlights. The old maple tree near the Oberheim’s lot was immense.
Its thick branches dangled around the second streetlight, where the light’s reflection seemed
to burn that tree’s penumbra into the secluded street and walkways covered with fallen snow.
Just then a mild breeze came in off the ocean, making the snow appear to be falling on a
slight angle. What a magical glow the evening had cast upon the early morning hour, making
everything so pure and white in its awesome setting. How calming it was to watch the snow
fall, imagining all the world asleep.
After relieving myself, I walked back to my room and crawled into bed once more before
looking out my frosty window. I knew she was in there, sprawled across those silk bed sheets
with the covers hanging half off. How I wished I could just go over there and pull them up
to her chin. I wanted to make sure she was nice and warm like I was. Touch her lips and
then kiss her gently on her forehead before leaving. In my mind, I did it perfectly.
Whenever she entered the mystical land of dreams,
I always wondered if part of me was making her happy there.
It felt so good to care about someone. . .To love someone.
And the love we had for each other could ignite a star.
As I lay in bed wondering about how much snow would fall, I fell back to sleep where I
dreamt I was in the Old West. Last Stop Saloon, read the hand-painted sign that appeared
to be nailed straight into the front of the old watering hole. The sun was shining brightly
as I entered and proceeded to walk over to the bar. Inside, people played cards in a seedy
environment that reeked of old beer. The floors were filthy, and the tables were even worse.
Nothing like what you would expect to see from watching the
old black-and-white westerns on TV. That's just a studio prop.
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Outside, two men were brutally kicking another man to death.
“Best if you drink,” said the squirrely bartender caressing a five o’clock shadow.
“People here don’t trust a man who doesn’t drink. It’s a sign of bad character.
Sign of a weak person.”
I looked around and found these people to be eyeing one another
like they were all looking for a reason to fight. I then began to
think this whole goddamn town belonged in jail.
“This bottle hits the floor, and you’re a dead man.”
With those words, he slid the bottle down the bar like a rocket, and I
caught it with a loud slap. Everyone turned around to see me holding it.
“Thanks.”
“You mean most obliged.”
I turned the bottle upside down and took three nice-sized
gulps before slamming it back down upon the bar.
This made everyone go back to what they were doing.
Then, like a vision from heaven, Harmony began walking down the
staircase dressed in a one-piece mauve taffeta gown. In appearance,
it was very similar to the types worn with leg o’ mutton sleeves.
I yell out her name, but the bartender tells me to hold on.
“Trust me, you don’t wanna do that.”
“I know her; she’s my friend,” I say as I make my way across the
room. From out of nowhere, a sheriff by the name of Minton Barrows
had accosted Harmony and would not let go of her wrist.
“Please let go of me,” she screamed, but no one paid her any mind.
I stepped in and put my gun under the man’s ear.
“Easy there, fella,” he said, laughing.
“Oh, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,” I said, sounding like a
very spry Clark Gable who would have been 72 this year.
“Just move along, Sheriff.”
“I can’t do that, ya see; I own this girl.”
“Owned, I believe, is the proper terminology,”
I replied in no uncertain words.
Sometimes learning new words from the dictionary
before bed can be beneficial in dreams.
“The girl belongs to me now,” I stated firmly.
“You’re really not hearing me, are ya?”
I then cocked back the hammer of the gun with my thumb
until it engaged with a loud click, and everyone froze.
When I tell you that place emptied out
faster than a dog in heat, I’m not lying.
“Okay,-okay you win,” said the vile beast of a man, sharply winking.
With his hands held high, he walked slowly in reverse, thus offering
me the leeway to pass by unscathed and get to Harmony.
I then holstered my gun and began walking over toward her.
“Are you all right?” I asked before hearing that same familiar sound
coming from behind me. The sound of a Colt hammer cocking.
The ingrateful poltroon had deceived me.
“We don’t have to do this,” I said anxiously at the unrelenting figure
whose face was now half-shadowed by the rays of the sun.
“Oh, but we do,” said the sheriff grinning wryly through his rotting brown
teeth that looked like a row of Indian corn. All gnarly and full of holes
were they and this man, nothing but a low-down scourge.
As I backed up the sheriff began firing, but I moved
like a jitterbug and miraculously escaped every shot.
“Now,” I thought to myself, “it’s my turn.”
I really love that about dreams.
If you’re confident enough, you can outlive even death.
Peter Fonda - November night
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I then withdrew my pistol and said, “Goodbye, sheriff.”
I aimed at the man’s left eye and fired, but the shot went through his forehead
and came clean out the other side. There the shell casing traveled into a bottle
of whiskey on the old-fashioned display counter, shattering it and exploding its
contents everywhere, but there was no blood.
Just then, an old timer comes in and shuffles over to the blackboard, which is situated
near the piano in the far-left corner of the room by the bathroom. He used the eraser
before writing 8,957 while rolling both lips over his gums, for he had no teeth.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you’re doing?”
“My job, ya see, I’m the town writer, an n’is nummer here
tells ya how many peoples been shot dead d’is year.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I’m is twelve.”
“How old are you now?”
“Hunnert tuo. I’m is due for retirement in anudder
a teen years, but no one’s ever lived to see it.”
“What do you get for retirement?” I asked curiously.
“Bottle a booze.”
He walks away slowly.
As I moved in to examine Harmony’s bruise, she pulled her arm back hard.
“Get the hell away from me.
Why don’t you go back to wherever it is you came from?”
Hysterically, she bolted over to the man lying face down on the
floor and embraced him. A man put his hand on my shoulder
as he chewed his tobacco and spat the juice on my new boots.
“Killed the girl’s daddy; that’s cold. Best be ridin’
outta here before the sun sets, and it’s movin.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Don't ‘pologize to me, juss go.”
The look of horror in her eyes and the pain etched on her face
chilled me to the very core of my being. All those times, we made
love in the warm desert sand in the back of the stable near the
horse troughs. The gentle words she used to profess her undying
love for me while we were growing up had all blown away in
the course of a single moment. In the breath of a starling
who darts out into a windy sky, our love affair was over.
The Paradox - With someone to love
I exited that saloon through the swinging doors where I found the sun
to be so hot, it was unbearable. As I stood beside a withered hitching
post, I screamed before punching it. That was all I could remember.
So that’s what it’s like to kill someone, I thought. It was easy. The worst
part is that you can never reverse it. You were doomed to play the hand
you had been dealt. If only you could undo it, then all would be rectified,
and your conscience, free of guilt. Unfortunately, there is nothing in the
world that can reverse a wrong decision. I would have to live with the
consequences of my actions for the rest of my life, and for the rest of
my days, I would remain detached from the world. Even though I
was still free, I was a slave to the fact that I lost Harmony.
And that was a fate I would not wish upon any human being.
No matter how young or naïve, no one deserved this punishment.
The Peers - Once upon a time
When I awoke and looked out my window, I saw a sheet of pure virgin snow covering
the street like an immaculate blanket had been laid down while I was sleeping. What a
beautiful sight to behold. From the top of my window, I looked down to see Harmony
bundled up like a cute little Eskimo girl shoveling by the side of her house.
Her car, entombed in a snow mound, looked so helpless in that odd shape.
I waved to her as I was getting into my mother’s old black Rambler,
and she waved back at me, smiling. For some reason, I just seemed
to stand there watching her as she waited for me to get in the car.
“Today, Charlie Brown,” said my mother impatiently.
“All right, all right,” I muttered.
That was my nickname from Mother.
I guess she thought it was cute.
As we slowly pulled away and proceeded to make a U turn, my eyes caught the
top of Mrs. Devoy’s house. That old aerial TV antenna had weathered many
storms and would remain a fixture in our neighborhood for decades to come.
Just to know it was there.
That it would always be there was enough to ease my mind.
How many different ones are out there, I wondered?
There were so many shapes and sizes too.
Who puts them together?
Some were huge and intricately defined, with hundreds of little metal sticks coming out
of the main extension bar, while others were quite simple. For the rest of the car ride,
I would gaze up at various rooftops to see what types of antennas adorned the sky.
Believe me, when I tell you, some were magnificent.
The same went for the lift o matic all-weather rotary clothesline dryers
that opened up like giant umbrellas. Every yard seemed to have one,
and each of them appeared to be noticeably different from the next.
Who could have known that one day they would become as obsolete as a beehive hair dryer?
In truth, every spring has its breakthrough, every fall, its collapse.
My mother let me off near the New Dorp train station as usual, where I waited for
my daily school bus. There I sat next to a kid named Joey, as I did every day. A kid
who would soon come to be called Joey the ant. I then removed a small picture of
Harmony from my wallet that she had given to me last year. As I was looking at
her image and admiring it, I was rudely interrupted.
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“Who is that,” asked Joey in a smug manner, “your girlfriend?”
Making a face by pulling his lips to one side.
“If she was my girlfriend, do you think I’d be sitting next to you?”
He punched me in the arm, and I punched him back, for that is what children do. Till later, my
love, I thought as I closed my eyes, while cleverly imagining all the luscious things we were
going to do to each other later on. Before I even got off the bus, I was yearning for her. I had
the craving, but needed to keep it under wraps. A hindrance called lust can occur at the worst
possible time to overpower the senses and compel one to desperation. It thrives on longing to
illuminate the world with a desire so intense it cannot be reckoned with. . . Love’s sweet release.
As we were approaching the building, the sky had turned a brighter
shade of pink, and my mind began to focus on current events.
Soon we were in school, where the sound of squeaky boots on newly waxed floors seemed to
override everything else. While I was trudging around in the hallway, delaying my studies by
waving to this one and chatting with that one, my angel was keeping the home fires burning.
Down in the basement of our school, another fire was burning. One that was
continually being monitored by coal shovels and that in itself was keeping us
warm. Since time can recall, I have loved the snow and could never seem to
get enough of it. For hours, I watched as it fell by the main window. Ms. Ellis
didn’t seem to mind me drifting away. She knew I was absorbing the lesson.
The snow falling down would somehow alleviate my
worries, making everything in my world a bit calmer,
much like a relaxing tonic would aid in curing ennui.
At around twelve forty, an announcement came over the school intercom telling us
that we would be going home early today. The sound of excitable children could be
heard up and down each corridor throughout the entire building. (A building that has
withstood the test of time for my mom and dad, who attended school there in the 1940's,
and later on in life for my three little sisters.) The school seemed to have gotten darker,
for the lights now appeared brighter in the hallways. As we left to get on the bus, the snow
was coming down heavier than it was before and judging from the sky that seemed to be
painted a bright orange color, I could see no sign of it stopping anytime soon.
Walking through the courtyard, I turned to see those enormous snowflakes dropping to
the ground like fluffy wet balls of cotton. It was at that moment that I noticed the fallout
shelter sign riveted into the school wall, and I began to wonder why it was still there.
An ominous feeling that was almost exciting took hold of me. As my friend yelled for
me to get on the bus, the spell was broken. Walking forward, I realized it was simply
a novelty from a bygone era in time. One that would cause us to ponder things that
were no longer relevant; but things that keep us connected to the past.
The bus let me off at my cousin’s house, and I stayed with them for a while before
wallowing through the deepening snow down the street to the dwelling where my
girlfriend resided. Along the way, I stopped to examine a large pile of snow. Within it,
I found a small crevice that allowed me to see its mysterious icy blue light. "Fascinating,
captain," I said aloud, in the same manner of speaking as Mr. Spock would have said to
Captain Kirk in an episode of Star Trek. When I arrived at her doorstep, I used my key
to enter. Even though I knew she was home, I wanted to surprise her.
Maywood - You're the one
“Hey,” she said with bloodshot eyes in a tired-sounding way,
“you’re back from school early today.”
“Yeah, they let us go because of the weather.”
She came up to me and planted a sweet, smoky kiss on my
lips and tongue. I felt so proud and so happy to be loved by
this woman that I would do anything she asked. I then noticed
her fingernails had been neatly manicured and painted.
“Did you do this for me?” I asked, feeling overly complaisant.
Harmony threw both eyebrows up high and fast as my heart stammered.
“That is a beautiful color,” I declared.
“You like?” she asked, full of smiles and clouded by love.
As she stood there with both arms outstretched,
I was better able to examine the nails on each hand.
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The color was dark burgundy that had been masterfully created
to reveal a hint of purple; like magenta infused with merlot, it
was heart-stoppingly exquisite.
“You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”
she asked as if wanting to see it.
“I might,” I said to her astonishment. Lovingly she put both
hands into the folds of my armpits and braced herself.
“Then go ahead 'cause I’ve got you.”
I released myself with a sigh, and together, we collapsed
to the floor. Harmony could not stop laughing.
“You’re heavier than I thought,” she bolstered while lying on top of me.
She then began kissing my nose and face with little hen pecks.
Harmony then lifted me off the ground with her two hands firmly tucked under
my armpits and held me up to heaven. In that incredible moment, it honestly felt
like God had given us his full blessing. I then wrapped my legs around her waist
and gave her a kiss so warm and tender, I would think about it Sunday evening
as I lay awake in bed, gently caressing the pillow I imagined was her cheek.
“Why do we have to be apart,” I’d ask myself before
placing my small hand on the frozen window?
Tears streaming down my face and neck. It hurt to be apart from her.
It was my torment, but with every day I lived, I got a little bit older.
Until the day when adolescence is replaced by adult maturity.
As Harmony put me back down, I glanced at her as would a prominently
distinguished man of honor. In a sophisticated manner, I gracefully took
her left hand in mine. With refined facial gestures and a cavalier heart, I
kissed it. Like I was a high society gentleman courting in a social setting.
I could not believe it, but I had just made her blush.
If only I could have expressed to you, my heart.
The way I was feeling within my soul.
The way you were making me feel, my sweet love,
you would have wept with joy.
And if only I could have given you all you were worthy of possessing.
I would have given you a small country and then knelt down before you.
The snow was really coming down heavy when
I told Harmony I was going outside to shovel.
“Give me a minute, and I’ll come with you,” she voiced ecstatically.
I shoveled her walkway, driveway, and front steps while she
caught snowflakes in her gloves and twirled about happily.
As I watched her behave like a little girl in a blizzard, I found myself profoundly
enamored by her beauty. I could not seem to get enough of her. No matter what I did
or where I was, I was literally thinking about her all the time. In my heart, I yearned
to be by her side forever. To come home and find she is always there would be far more
than I could ever ask for. I knew she had just finished smoking that ‘funny stuff’
judging from how she smelled and by the way she acted. It was okay, though, cause
she still treated me like I was the only guy on earth. A heavy gust of wind blew the
top layer of snow from a neighboring house straight into our faces.
Harmony threw her gloved hands up and screamed out in excitement. I wanted at that
very moment to kiss her so badly that I asked her if she wanted to go back inside. No
matter how much shoveling I did after I was finished, it still looked like I did nothing
anyway. This was due to the fact that it was blowing around like a fine powder.
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For the next twenty-four hours, the snow would come down in bushels,
and tonight, I would be staying over. My parents needed some ‘alone
time’ to sort things out and asked Harmony if it wouldn’t be a burden.
“Are you kidding?” she said. “He can stay with me anytime.”
Thank God they didn’t catch that little blunder.
She should have said us, not me.
That was the closest we ever came to getting busted.
As we entered the house, the wind kicked up
and would not let me close the door without a fight.
With two red faces burning, I put my warm hands on her waist, and we kissed.
I then helped her remove her coat, and she assisted me in taking off my boots.
We sat in the living room with the lights off and held each other as we watched
the precipitation fall in the form of a billion snowflakes.
How romantic and beautiful this scene must have looked.
Often, I would replay it in my mind behind a thousand tears.
Vashti Bunyan - Coldest night of the year
There is one song I have found to be so hauntingly moving it cannot be played.
On this very Christmas night by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
If I should have the misfortune of being out somewhere toward Christmastime
and that song comes over the airwaves, it’s all over. So powerfully can I feel
the emotions building up inside of me while listening to this song; it is almost
frightening. As it plays, memories present themselves to me in such a way it
is almost impossible for me not to come apart at the seams.
If I’m alone, I’ll play it just to torture myself with what I’ve lost.
Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Christmas canon
Later that evening, Harmony made eighteen fried empanadas. They were formed
by rolling corn flour dough into flat circles. Inside this went the seasoned pork,
along with vegetables. When they were all pinched closed, they were deep fried.
After they cooled down a bit, I sank my teeth into one. Those sautéed onions
made the juice gush out and run down my face. They were out of this world.
“Don’t eat too many; they’re only an appetizer.”
Before the entrée, Harmony tended to a soup she was preparing.
It was a bit heavy but not quite as thick as its counterpart, stew.
It was called chicken sancocho. It was mildly sweet but really delicious.
In it was a root called yucca and strange bananas that had to be cooked
called plantains. Them, I could either take or leave, but that yucca. Oh my
god, that sticky, gummy root made me never want to eat potatoes again.
I was addicted.
This was served with traditional rice and beans and
slices of an odd-looking vegetable called avocado.
Up until this moment, I never knew avocados existed, and to my surprise,
I loved them. The rice and beans combination, however, I was not so crazy
about. Nonetheless, I finished everything on my plate, and that brought a
real smile of contentment to her face. My sweety made sobrebarriga from
Bohack’s most succulent skirt steaks for the main course.
Only because the flank steaks were gone.
It couldn’t have tasted any better had it been prepared by a gourmet chef, and I
ate like a king. For dessert, Harmony unveiled a lavish coconut cake that was in
the process of coming out of the oven as the school announcement was being
made known. Harmony called this cake torta de coco, and my mouth watered.
An ambrosial white cake with grated coconut shavings on top. Vibrantly, she cut
a more than generous portion of the luscious cake before setting it down in front
of me. I wanted to submit it as an entry for the yearly Betty Crocker baking contest.
You send them a picture along with the recipe and then wait for a response.
*Harmony would take first prize*
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This is just one of many meals Harmony concocted from her mother’s recipe.
There were more but not as many as from her regional Indian heritage. As
strange as it was, Harmony never mixed cultures. If Latin food was prepared
one night, then Indian dessert would not be made until the following evening.
This rule she followed and would not bend it.
After dinner, I volunteered to wash the dishes.
Harmony said, “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
“Okay,” I said calmly and remained seated.
“Would you like a coffee?”
“No thanks.”
“Of course not,” she muttered under her breath.
“Excuse me,” I said, a bit confused.
“Children don’t drink coffee,” she said to
the wall as she moved some dishes around.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Are you going to have coffee?”
“Maybe.”
Oh, Christ, it’s one of these. . .
“I think I might want to have coffee.”
“If you have to think about it, then you don’t want it.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to be completely rational.
“I would like to have - a - coffee.”
“What would you like with your coffee?”
“Whatever goes - well - with the coffee.”
“Would you like - a strudel - with your coffee?”
“Hav-a-bub-abub,” I said, like a possessed circus clown speaking in tongues.
Upon hearing my blathering, Harmony could not contain herself,
and so, she immediately burst out laughing.
“Why do I love you so much? You’re crazy.”
She swung around quick and spoke slowly, “That’s why you love me.”
I sprung up from my chair and gave her a big hug.
“You’re one in a million,” I said, looking up at her admiringly,
enraptured in the moment of love that seemed to be ever-growing.
“No, we’re one in a million, baby,” she proclaimed in a light tone.
*And we held each other close*
“Can I have another empanada?” I said, from out of left field.
“You’re still hungry? Well, okay.”
“You make my mom’s cooking taste like garbage.”
She laughed loudly at my remark while coating my mind
with an expression of such seductive rebellion I grew weak.
“You are so bad, and I know how to cook everything. Think
about that the next time you look at Ursula down the street.
Not only can I cook everything, but I can see everything too.”
She then winked at me with a mixture of both jealousy and lust.
My hands started tingling, and I found it a bit difficult to breathe.
“Are you going to spank me?”
She thought about my words and formed a quizzical expression on her face.
“Remember the key?”
As her face produced a more inquisitive look, I unfurled
my hand and said, “If you lose this key, I will remove
your pants and spank you with the palm of this hand.”
Harmony’s face bore an expression of shock
so intense I thought she might need to sit down.
“Are you still thinking about that?”
she uttered discreetly, in disbelief.
I then began to feel terribly embarrassed, and so I turned my eyes
away from Harmony to the door, where I felt equally ashamed.
She smiled in a subtle manner as she reached across the table.
With both hands clasped lightly to my right hand, she spoke.
“If ever there is anything you feel you need from me,
all you have to do is ask. I will not say no to you,
and I promise I won’t judge you for it.”
“Okay,” I said nervously, feeling kind of jittery inside.
“Have you been a bad boy?” I nodded my head apprehensively.
“Do you think I should punish you?”
“Yes.”
“If you want me to stop, you’ll have to say honey-please,
or you’re going to be redder than a beet in mid-August.
Let’s go wash up.”
From there, we went straight into the living room.
As we approached the couch, she suddenly changed into
someone else, and I wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.
The Charles Pendelton Orchestra - Enchanted Sorrows
“So tell me, how many people have you told about us?”
“I never told anyone; I swear, you know that.”
“Did I give you permission to open your mouth?”
“No,” I said timidly.
“You just did it again,” she said, slapping
her hands together so loud I jumped.
She grabbed me by my shirt collar and brought her face close to mine.
“If you ever talk back to me again, I’m going to slap you in the fucking mouth.
Nod if you understand me. . . Good.”
The way she was threatening me, like a delicately attractive bully no man could
ever imagine being overpowered by, seemed to fluctuate the rhythm of my heart.
And yet, at the same time, I was becoming confused by the harsh tone of her voice.
The seriousness of it implied danger, and I was starting to become worried.
Harmony slapped my leg hard, and it stung.
She slapped my thigh harder, and it burned.
She then lifted my shirt up and slapped the side of my ribs so hard it echoed through
the house. I looked at her in sheer terror as a tear came out on its own, followed by
another. From a physiological perspective, it was like nothing I thought it would be.
There was so much stinging in each slap I couldn’t hold back my tears.
“Don’t cry, my love; we’re only role-playing.
If you stop now, you’ll never be able to go back.
Is that what you want?”
“I’m not sure,” I responded, full of hesitation and doubt.
Inside I was shuddering, far worse than
what could ever be produced by any terrible vegetable.
There was a very long pause before I heard myself say,
“Okay, I’m ready.”
To imagine Harmony stopping was so confusing to my senses that it became kind of unreal,
yet the thought of her continuing filled me with anticipation and dreaded fear. It was almost
as if I wanted her beautiful fingers imprinted all over my entire body, and I didn’t understand
why. It’s not like I wasn’t hurting. My brain was receiving stress signals of intense pain, yet
I refused to acknowledge it. All the while, my heart was exploding with passion and lust to
such a degree my own breathing became labored. Only then did I finally understand what
it meant when a man says to a woman,“My dear, you take my breath away.”
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After a few more slaps, Harmony put her left hand around my throat and the hand that
was abusing me on my face. It felt hot. She moved her delicate fingers around my nose
and cheek as though it were a gentle massage, then up to where my eyes were. She rolled
the tips of her index and middle finger on my left eyelid before moving her index finger in
and under, where it came to rest directly upon the exposed layer of the eyeball. It burned
like the tip of a match head, and again, I broke down and cried.
Even though she only kept it there for about three long seconds.
At this very moment in time, I can't say that I trusted her,
and frankly, I was becoming very afraid of her.
“Easy baby, easy,” she said in a reassuring tone while
fluctuating back and forth from passive to aggressive.
I must say, as terrified as I was, I was still somehow aroused.
I just didn’t want this to get out of hand, or to a point where
I would not be able to control it.
“Let’s stop now,” she said, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“No,” said the voice in my head aloud.
Oh no, I thought as the lifeboat drifted away, and
I was slowly lowered back into the shark-filled waters.
Harmony continued where she left off, massaging my chin
and jawbone with her thumb. As she began to massage my
lips, she spoke like an authority figure in a third-world
government where corruption and power rule.
“Just a little friendly word of advice. If your tongue should accidentally
touch any of my fingers, I will beat you so soundly people will hear it
on the next block. Look at my hand. See how red it is, and we haven’t
even started yet. I could slap you until the sun comes up if I want to.”
She then squeezed my nipple until I thought I would faint.
"Dare me. Go on."
Within myself, I was trying so hard to be strong. To be someone she could one
day revere, but I didn’t know how to control myself, and so I began to squirm.
In my pants, however, I had an erection the size of Texas, and it felt like a fire
hose that needed to put out a three-alarm blaze. At any given moment, it could
have gone off prematurely. Because of this, I was afraid to even touch it.
Like a teacher preparing to discipline an unruly student, I was pulled to my
feet by my ear. Harmony then proceeded to glide her hand across my groin
before unbuckling my pants, thus allowing them to fall to the floor.
Next, she pulled my underwear down, where it came to rest around my ankles.
I was then told in an impassive tone to stand still and not move an inch. My
penis was so hyperextended that Harmony could have probably balanced her
foot on it to change a light bulb. Within minutes, my penile muscle felt more
like a very sensitive bone that could easily be broken if she twisted it too hard
or bent it the wrong way. Like a mechanized machine, she looked at me with
apathetic eyes, and I could see all the love she once had for me was gone.
The callous expression wrought upon her face would deliver the final blow to my
now grieving heart. The whole ordeal made me feel like I was in a psychological
play, and it wounded me inside that she could manipulate her emotions at will.
I, on the other hand, happened to be more of a submissive being and realized it
would be extremely uncomfortable for me to take on the role of the aggressor.
As Harmony brought her face even closer to my throbbing organ, my balls felt
like they were going to explode. Until, at last, she was but a heartbeat away.
Pg 202
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In a provokingly outward manner, Harmony opened her mouth and began to come closer.
About halfway in, she stopped when it made contact with the back of her throat. Never at
any time did her lips, teeth, or tongue ever touch it. She then drew her head back and closed
her mouth. Watching her tease me like that made my testes hurt. After this, she wrapped her
hand around my pulsating organ, and it reacted by oozing a clear stream of honey-like fluid
onto the rug. Even though I hadn’t achieved orgasm, I did somehow feel as though some
of the burden had been lifted from my testicles.
Still, I could not seem to breathe right, for I was so turned
on my balls disappeared, and my peanut sack shriveled
into what can only be described as a dry leather prune.
“Please-please,” I shrieked in desperation; I can’t hold it anymore.
My poor pecker felt like it was going to burst out of its thin sausage casing. So intense
was this throbbing pain that I kept thinking it was going to break open. As she fondled
my tight scrotum, which felt like it had been soaking in ice water, Harmony told me to
close my eyes and brace myself. For what, I thought?
(((Whap)))
She slapped it so hard it felt like a razor strap, and
I was sure a piece of it stuck to the wall somewhere.
“Yeowwwwwww.”
Thrusting back, I reeled out in pain, but as I
looked at it, I was amazed to find it going down.
“How did you?”
Harmony looked at me, and I immediately withdrew into hiding.
It was completely numb from the initial shock of what just happened to it,
and the burning was so severe I was sure it would never work right again.
Within a matter of seconds, it was as dead as a Libby’s Vienna sausage
that had been plucked from its slimy broth with a cocktail toothpick.
I simply could not fathom what had just transpired.
Harmony then grabbed my wrist and forced me to lay across her lap.
“So, tell me about Ursula.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
She brought her heavy hand down hard across my buttocks
and let it rest there for a few seconds before moving it around.
“Don’t say there’s nothing to tell. I see the way you look at her.”
“But it’s just a look.”
She brought her hand down even harder in the same exact place, and I bellowed.
“Owwww.”
“Do you want to touch her the way you touch me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Liar.”
(((SLAPP)))
“Please, you’re hurting me.”
“How does it feel to know a woman is spanking you?
Making you cry like a little baby?
Hmmm?
Does it make you feel helpless, or does it make you feel like a real
(((CRACK))) man?”
“Ooooh, you're hurting me too much.”
Every slap was getting stronger, and my emotions were going berserk.
Harmony must have felt it getting bigger again
because she questioned me about it.
“What is this, I am starting to feel on my leg?
Is Pinocchio lying to me again?”
(Crack)
“Aw, did you forget the safe word? Too bad.”
(SLAP)
“Now I really want to know what you are thinking
of in that little mind of yours. Speak to me.”
“I'm thinking about. . . I don't know what I'm thinking about.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“I'm not lying to you.”
“Then what are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
WHAPP!!!
“This really hurts. It hurts so bad.”
“Then, you know what you have to do.”
“I won’t.”
(Crack)
“Now say it.”
“No.”
(((Crack)))
“I said say it.”
“Never.”
Slap-slap-slap
These were almost tame in comparison to the others. Nevertheless,
my poor ass felt like it had been branded by a searing hot skillet.
The Tyrannies - She's a queen
Pg 203
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Without delay, Harmony brought her free hand to where my face was on the couch.
She rolled her thumb around the contours of my lips before working it into my awaiting
mouth. This was followed by a slap that would have instantly numbed a man’s face.
However, the slap was given to an area of my leg aligned directly below the buttocks.
A region of the human body that is so sensitive to pain, I recoiled for it was unendurable.
I cried out in agony over an elegantly tapered thumb my tongue was currently resting on,
but she grabbed the back of my hair, pulling it hard.
“I want-my thumb-sucked.”
You did it before, and you really did it good.
Now do it again, and this time with feeling,” she said venomously
as if she were somehow talking over her own teeth.
I could not see her face because of the position I was in, being across her knee and all,
but I was smart enough to know that if I didn’t comply with her demands, the fantasy
she was producing through love could ultimately become something entirely different.
I couldn't help but hesitate, for that slap was still ringing out into my flesh
and biting like the mouth of a steel trap straight into my very bones.
“If you don’t listen to every word I say to you, I am going to spread
your ass cheeks, I’m going to spit, and then I’m going to drive my
burning hot thumb so deep into your tender little body, you will cry
like an infant. And I can promise you, I won’t take it out for an hour.
Wanna test me?
That's better.”
It was so well-defined and exquisitely perfect for a female extremity I took pleasure in doing
it. In the same way, I took pleasure in wrapping my tongue around hers or casually nibbling
an ear. Even licking in and about her belly button or up and down the soles of her feet.
Nothing was perverse in love, and no act too licentious.
For other couples, maybe, but not for us.
“That’s it,” she said, “and when I get tired of you cleaning my thumb,
I have four other fingers that are in need of a good tongue cleaning as well.”
I did as I was told and could hear her moaning and rubbing herself
ever so passionately. I then took her hand from the base of the palm
and pulled her thumb from my mouth. It was then I spoke.
“I’m sorry I looked at Ursula. Sometimes I watch her as she goes by.
She wiggles her butt at me, and I smile.”
Instinctively Harmony turned my head toward hers, and for a brief
moment, I saw that dire look in her eyes as the ball bounced to
my side of the court. It was there; I gave her a subtle wink.
“You little bitch.”
“You’re getting off on this.”
(((Laughing and tickling me all over)))
“Well, I’m not done interrogating you yet.”
Harmony rose to her feet and bent me over the couch.
She wound her arm back like I was a baseball she was
going to crack over the wall of Yankee Stadium.
“So, you like her ass now.”
(Whack)
“You like the way she wiggles it for you?”
(((WHAPP)))
“When I slap her across her face, it’s going to sound a lot like...”
(((((((((SLAP)))))))))
Harmony must have had her hand on the ceiling
because when I tell you I had no feeling in my ass for a week,
I mean, I had no-feeling in-my-ass for-a-week.
I can still feel it.
“Honey-please,” I cried out repeatedly.
For a short while, I found myself branded, seared by the mark of love I sought,
for I thought it was unattainable. Gone were the days of my innocence but not
that of my youth. Where the emancipated dance to proclaim their liberation,
and the valor of the stoic is rewarded in abstinence, pestilence, and grief.
But the key snapped in the lock, and only one was permitted
through its divine hallway. The other was sentenced to years
of excruciating sorrow. A lifetime of unbearable pain.
Thy life, thy soul, thy inner being
gave birth to love, however fleeting.
Where myriads of colors swoon
around my flesh to its joyful tune.
When off in the distance, church bells rang,
and all throughout Heaven, the angels sang.
With tear-stained smiles in grim accord;
tomorrow we fall upon our sword.
Pg 204
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Reviews for Chapter 32
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This review was posted on May/14/23
alits29's review
AL
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This review was posted on Aug/7/23
Reviewed by labia_1903
LB
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This review was posted on Aug/19/23 (Morning)
Reviewed by rupalrao
RR
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This review was posted on Aug/29/23
Reviewed by pazkou
PZ
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This review was posted on Nov/13/23
Reviewed by sampriktaada813
SP
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This review was posted on Dec/6/23
Reviewed by hinaspatel
HP
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This review was posted on Dec/14/23
LL
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This review was posted on Jan/27/24
Tayyaba17's review
The Embryo Man: Chapter 32.5 - The Embryo Man
Reader's Report by Tayyaba
TY
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Saleha Zainab - Mar 20 - Chapter 32 (Pt 5)
SZ
The passage presents a complex and psychologically rich portrayal of the relationship
dynamics between the protagonist and Harmony. Here's a psychological analysis of
key themes and elements in the text:
Power Dynamics: The interaction between the protagonist and Harmony revolves around
power dynamics, with Harmony consistently exerting control over the protagonist's actions
and emotions. This reflects a potentially unhealthy dynamic characterized by dominance
and submission, where Harmony seeks to assert her authority and maintain control over
the relationship.
Control and Dominance: Harmony's behavior, particularly in the later part of the passage,
involves elements of dominance and control, both physical and psychological. This could
indicate underlying issues related to a need for power and control, possibly stemming from
past experiences or psychological factors.
Emotional Manipulation: Harmony employs tactics of emotional manipulation to maintain
control over the protagonist, using a combination of affection, teasing, and coercion to
influence his behavior and emotions. This suggests a manipulative aspect to their
relationship, where Harmony seeks to exert influence and control over the protagonist's
thoughts and actions.
Submission and Compliance: The protagonist's response to Harmony's dominance fluctuates
between resistance and compliance, highlighting his internal struggle to assert his autonomy
while also seeking validation and approval from Harmony. This could reflect underlying
insecurities or a desire for acceptance within the relationship.
Emotional Vulnerability: The passage also explores themes of emotional vulnerability, as both
characters navigate complex feelings of desire, intimacy, and insecurity. The protagonist's
willingness to submit to Harmony's desires despite experiencing physical and emotional pain
suggests a deep-seated need for connection and validation.
Boundary Violation: Harmony's actions, particularly in the later part of the passage, involve
the violation of personal boundaries and the infliction of physical harm on the protagonist.
This raises concerns about consent and ethical boundaries within the relationship, suggesting
potential issues related to abuse or coercion.
Psychological Impact: The intense and emotionally charged nature of the interaction depicted
in the passage can have significant psychological effects on both characters. For the protagonist,
this may involve feelings of confusion, guilt, and shame, while Harmony's behavior could be
indicative of underlying psychological issues such as narcissism or borderline personality traits.
This chapter is a poignant narrative that captures the essence of a young man's journey through
a winter day filled with introspection, longing, and bittersweet memories. The protagonist, recounts
his experiences from the early morning hours to a cozy evening spent with his beloved, Harmony.
The narrative seamlessly weaves between the protagonist's dreamlike encounters in an Old West
saloon and his tender moments with Harmony in the present.
The story begins with the protagonist's mundane morning routine juxtaposed against the serene
backdrop of falling snow. As he prepares for school, he reminisces about Harmony and their deep
connection, which transcends the physical distance between them. Throughout the day, the
protagonist navigates moments of conflict and resolution, both in his dreams and in reality.
The dream sequences in the Old West saloon serve as a metaphor for the protagonist's internal
struggles and desires. Through confrontations with a corrupt sheriff and moments of bravery, he
grapples with themes of justice, love, and the consequences of his actions. These dreamscapes
provide insight into the protagonist's psyche and add depth to the narrative.
The heart of the story lies in the protagonist's relationship with Harmony. Despite external challenges
and uncertainties, their bond remains unwavering. The tender moments shared between them evoke
a sense of warmth and intimacy amidst the cold winter landscape. However, underlying tensions and
unresolved conflicts hint at the fragility of their love. As the day draws to a close, the protagonist finds
solace in Harmony's presence, relishing the simple joys of companionship and shared memories.
The narrative concludes with a sense of longing and acceptance, as the protagonist reflects on the
fleeting nature of love and the inevitability of change.
The narrative structure, alternating between present-day scenes and dream sequences, adds
depth and layers to the story. The Old West saloon serves as a symbolic space for the protagonist
to confront his fears and confrontations, mirroring his internal struggles and external conflicts.
The character of Harmony embodies both strength and vulnerability, serving as a source of comfort and
inspiration for the protagonist. Their relationship is portrayed with sensitivity and depth, highlighting the
transformative power of love amidst adversity.The themes of longing and nostalgia permeate the narrative,
resonating with readers on a universal level. The author's exploration of memory and perception adds
richness to the storytelling, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences of love and loss.
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This review was posted on Apr/7/24
Reviewed by mariya
MR
T
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This review was posted on Jun/1/24
Reviewed by sababaloch292
SB
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This review was posted on Aug/4/24
Reviewed by sarah1409
SR
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This review was posted on Aug/11/24
Reviewed by adeeba
AD
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This review was posted on Sep/27/24
Reviewed by poesiha
PE
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PG 195) White blanket by Rob Gonsalves - http://tinyurl.com/l5xt4en
PG 195) Ocean dreams by Jim Warren - http://www.jimwarren.com/site/
PG 195) Gambling saloon by Donald Putman - http://tinyurl.com/kahyenb
PG 196) Illustration of basque No. 8355 and skirt No. 8320 (circa 1896) - http://www.pastpatterns.com/
PG 197) Love by Gyuri Lohmuller - http://tinyurl.com/jwlh955
PG 197) Winegard tv antenna - http://tinyurl.com/772yhgo
PG 198) Tunel amor by Michael Pucciarelli - http://www.poochisland.com/
PG 198) Lust is like a flame by TheInfinityLoop - http://tinyurl.com/lzupv9q
PG 199) Phantom Lake by Glenn Barr - http://glbarr.com/gallery
PG 199) Henna by Gopal Khetanchi - http://tinyurl.com/lol4w9h
PG 199) Christmas Snow by Margarita Sheshukova - http://tinyurl.com/m88526d
PG 200) Mobil gas winter advertisement (circa 1940's) - http://tinyurl.com/kouh8o5
PG 200) Vintage Santa - Circa 1920 - http://tinyurl.com/lgjlwa9
PG 201) Legends of the sea Vol. 1 by Iñaki Gonzalez Ormaetxea - http://tinyurl.com/kfb3456
PG 201) Eclipse by Chris Down - http://tinyurl.com/m9fsrcf
PG 201) Illustration from unknown comic book
PG 202) Fires of the Colossus by Frank Granados - http://tinyurl.com/m4f5666
PG 203) Rendez-vous on the Riviera by Samy Charnine - http://charnine.com/
PG 203) Drawing 20 by Charles Wish - http://www.charleswish.com/
PG 204) Partners in punishment by Eric Stanton
PG 204) Beautiful Indian hand
PG 204) Live by hand by David Ho - http://www.davidho.com/
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