by R. Saint Claire
I’m not what anyone would call a sensitive guy as the many girls who’ve slapped my face have told me (in so many words); But if I had known when I woke up this morning that by the end of the day I’d be fleeing for my life through a blizzard I’d have broken down and cried like I’m doing right now. At nineteen I’m too young to die. I have a life to live, many women to conquer, and I’d like to graduate and tell my Dad that I’m sorry my senior year in high school was such a shit-show. I know he’s still really pissed about that.
The flakes are huge, but I can still make out that farmhouse with the green siding up ahead. I hope the snow will cover up what I’m leaving behind me: deep footprints with a trail of blood between each one.
Bethany! It’s all her fault! She’s the one who convinced me to register for ANTH 202: Myth and Magic. And she’s also the one who stopped talking to me after we fucked two weeks ago. The only reason I went to that stupid class this morning was so I could see her and try to reason with her, and basically get her to stop telling her friends that I’m a fucking rapist because that’s not cool. I know she was hammered, but so was I. Okay, maybe she did pass out on my bed and I kept going, but is that really such a crime when she wanted it too? She seemed hung-over but happy the next day; I even took her out to breakfast, but then she started yakking with her dyke friends and the next thing you know…
The house is farther away than I thought. I think this snow is playing tricks on me, like it’s a mirage or something, only it’s not the desert and it’s so fucking cold. My eyelids are almost frozen shut.
So Bethany wouldn’t even look at me in class. She knew I was staring at her because her cheeks were bright red. I wrote a note with just a big question mark, folded it into a tight football, and finger-punted it to her. It bounced off the side of her arm and her dyke bitch friend just glared at me. So I decided to ignore her. Two can play at his game.
Then I noticed this girl sitting in front of me. I’d never seen her before because this was the first time I’d been to this class in weeks, but the bitch seemed really into it and was taking all these notes and shit. I noticed two things about her right away: she wrote in this weird old-fashioned silver pen that had like scrolls on it, and also her fucking hair was wild. It was this bright color red, but not in a dyed way. I could tell from the texture and the highlights that her hair was completely natural. I know I’m a dude, but I have an eye for these things–that doesn’t make me a fag, just observant. This is one of the things Bethany never understood about me.
It almost feels like the farmhouse is getting farther away with each step I take. My foot (the one without a shoe) is completely numb now and blood is running down my arm like an open faucet.
Anyway. Not only was her hair this amazing color, like fire. It was coiled around the back of her head so many times I could tell it was super long and thick, and that intrigued me. I confess that I’m a man with a few kinks and long hair on women is one of them. I was so pissed when Bethany cut hers, but that’s another story. So, once I started really looking at this redhead’s hair I couldn’t stop staring. Not only was it rolled into a very large bun, surround by these tight smaller ones, there were these tiny braids woven throughout it with like gold threads or something. It reminded me of the chicks in those Italian Renaissance paintings I learned about in the one art class my major required-I do know a little bit about culture and shit. If Bethany had only taken the time to get to know me instead of judging me she would understand that I’m not the total asshole she thinks I am.
So I noticed this redhead had this one long silver pin stuck in her hair, like a knitting needle only it had the same scroll design as the pen. The professor, bitch is a hundred-year-old hunchbacked midget with a shrunken head (I do not lie), was spewing out some shit about Amazonian witchcraft, and the redhead was furiously taking notes and I tried to read what she was writing, but it looked like it was in a different language. Also, the pen she used had red ink, like it was bleeding all over the fucking page.
I could tell this chick was deep, not exactly my usual type, but they say the crazy ones are the best in the sack. I really wanted to see that hair come down, and in my horny imagination, I saw it hanging past her ass and my hands parting the red seas…
If I have one fault, it’s that sometimes I am impatient, or as my Dad would say my hands are quicker than my head. So without even thinking whether it was a good idea or not, I pulled the pin from the bitch’s hair, and like magic her fucking hair uncoils like a spring and falls down her back nearly touching the floor. I thought I heard this weird cry and I saw something else sticking out of the back of her head, like a string of white pearls or something. Then everyone in class, including Bethany, turned and stared. The prof stopped her incessant yakking and writing on the board with chalk dust flying everywhere. The redheaded turned and looked at me. Her eyes were so green I nearly pissed myself. I caught a look at her face and her tits through her black sweater, and she was hot, really hot.
Bethany and the dyke started whispering. I shrugged an apology and handed the silver pin back to the redhead who quickly put up her hair with it. It amazed me how fast she accomplished that, also I noticed that she smiled a little, like she wasn’t mad about it. And by then class was over.
It had started snowing while we were inside and the flakes were just starting to stick. I looked around for Bethany hoping I could offer her a ride and maybe some makeup sex, but she and her dyke friend linked arms and took off across the Commons. Fuck it. I got in my car and headed back to my dorm with no other thoughts in my mind except food, gaming, and a little jerking off–a fine way to spend a snowy afternoon.
But then I saw the redhead walking along the side of the road. She wore a long black coat trimmed in brown fur with the hood up and loose pieces of her red hair flying out. The flakes were getting fatter, and swirled around her like she was an old-fashioned doll in the middle of a snow globe. When I drove closer to her, I noticed she carried a backpack over one shoulder and her hands were in front of her, shoved into a furry ball. I think is called a muff. I’d like to see her muff, I thought, and before I could even think through whether this was a good idea or not, I sidled the car up to her, rolled down the window, and asked her if she needed a ride.
She got in and thanked me and within minutes we were driving out of town. She was really quiet and kept her head down like she was still cold. I turned up the heat and she seemed to relax a bit. When I asked her what her name is, I thought she said Janice. Also, her voice sounded kind of foreign which would explain the writing, but I didn’t press it. We drove for miles and when I asked her if she walked all that way to school she nodded, then said she sometimes took the bus. She pointed to a long driveway that wasn’t paved. Of course the thought crossed my mind that my car could get stuck (there was about three inches of snow on the ground by now) and I should have just dropped her ass off right there, but hindsight…
It’s so cold my entire body is just shaking in a way that I can’t control. The farmhouse isn’t that far now. When I get there I will ask them to call my dad. I’m not feeling so good…
I drove down the long, winding drive, hoping in the back of my mind that I might be getting laid today. The house looked like something out of the fucking Adam’s Family–I’m not exaggerating. She asked me in a sweet voice if I’d like to come in and warm up and of course I obliged. The inside of the house was as weird as the outside. The furniture was like a hundred years old and stuff like old books and piles of magazines were stacked in every corner. But aside from that it looked pretty clean, and it didn’t smell and for that I was grateful. I can get pretty OCD about some things.
She offered me a drink, which happened to be straight Scotch. I could tell it was quality because I’ve had some of my dad’s before, and he only buys the twelve-year-old shit. So by now I’m figuring she’s some rich weirdo, but I’m still quite intrigued because I’m looking at her closely without being obnoxious about it, and her face is fucking gorgeous.
I drank down the Scotch while she gave me a tour of her house. By the time we got to her bedroom–two flights up and a part of the house that looked like a tower attached to the side of it–she still had the crystal decanter in her hand and poured me another drink. By now I was feeling pretty good. Hoping I was about to get lucky, and since we were standing within a few feet of a very large bed I figured my chances were pretty good, I asked her (nicely) if she lived alone.
She smiled, took a sip of her drink, and said she lived with her brother. I asked what his name was just to make conversation and I think she said Janice again, or maybe I was just slightly drunk by then. I chuckled and asked if he was big. Her answer was a little weird.
‘Am I big?’ She said.
Whenever a chick asks me about her looks I always default to my standard: you are perfect. I laid that line on her and it worked like a charm because the next thing I know she was peeling off her clothes. First the big coat, still covered with melting snowflakes, dropped to the floor. Then she pulled the black sweater over her head, revealing the perkiest, most fantastic rack I’ve ever witnessed in real life: perfect white mounds with delicate pink tips like rose petals (I do get poetic about these things). My boner was instantly flying at full staff and the next thing I knew, we were rolling on the bed, clothes and sheets flying everywhere. While she was on top (and yes, it’s confirmed by her matching bush that the hair is real as I predicted) I tried to pull the pin again and take her hair down and she stopped moaning and slapped my hand. I thought it was part of the sex (I have been known to get into some role playing) and so I tried again. This time she slapped my face hard; it pissed me off a bit, so I spun her around so I’m on top and started to just fuck her brains out, which I must admit was quite enjoyable and I could tell she loved it too. We both screamed at the same time and then I was spent.
Now this is where the shit gets really weird and how I ended up in this mess. As I usually do after sex, especially if I’ve been drinking, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up I could tell from the way the light had shifted in the room that it was late in the day. I turned around and saw that she was still next to me in the bed and still naked, her back towards me. I was happy to see that now her hair was down: beautiful thick red waves falling past her ass cheeks. The hair turned me on and I found myself getting hard again. As I ran my hands down her back, I could tell she was awake and liking it because I heard a low moan. I parted the hair and ran my tongue down her back. When I got all the way down I was thrilled to see that her ass matched her tits in excellence. I’m not afraid to admit that I’m pretty famous for my rim jobs. That doesn’t make me a fag, just a dude who’s good in bed and not afraid of a little variety.
So I parted her firm ass cheeks and started going to town. From the moans she was making, kind of hoarse and low, I knew she was loving it big-time. She gave me a reach-around and started playing with my cock, but being a gentleman (fuck you Bethany!) I decided to check-in with her and make sure it was okay before I rode the Hershey highway. I stroked her red hair all the way back up to her head when something so fucked-up happened that if I ever get out of this motherfucking snowstorm, no one will believe it. As I was about to turn her around so she’s facing me, the hair on the back of her head parted and I found myself staring at a fucking dude.
‘That feels so good. Please don’t stop,’ the dude said.
What the fuck! I screamed and jumped up, blinking a few times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and saw that she/he/it/whateverthefuck was now kneeling on the bed, back still towards me, but the hands were parting more of her hair away and there was a fucking dude’s face on the back of her head and it was talking to me–in the same weird accent I might add, but in a deep bass voice.
‘I loved what you were doing. Please keep going,’ He said, reaching a hand out and almost grabbing hold of my cock, which I’m not bragging when I say is larger than average, but it had now shrunk to the size of a peanut. I scrambled to get into my clothes.
‘As you can see,’ the dude continued. “My sister has the tits, but I have the ass.”
Then this thing started laughing, and I fell to the floor as I’m putting on my jeans. It stood up and turned around, so now the chick was facing me. She looked upset.
‘Please don’t mind my brother,’ she said. ‘He’s very temperamental.’
‘Shut up bitch!’ The dude’s voice from the other side of her head said and she rolled her eyes.
‘I’m sorry. He’ll be good.’ She walked over to me like she was trying to be nice, but I was still on the floor in total shock. I could now see this full-length mirror behind her and as she was trying to convince me to stay, I saw the dude in the reflection making all kinds of mean faces. I rolled towards the door to make my escape. I only had one shoe on and left my new parka behind, but fuck it. I had to get out of there.
‘Janus! You bitch! He’s getting away!’ I heard the dude’s voice say as I ran into the hall.
‘Shut up Janus! It’s your fault! I can never have any friends because of you!’ Her voice screamed back.
‘We’ll make him stay!’ The dude says, and I can tell he’s really pissed.
I tore down two flights of stairs and ended up in the kitchen. I heard it on the stairs coming after me. The door had a deadbolt. The key was missing. The thing was next to me now, the girl side coming towards me, still naked. I picked up a chair and hurled it. It retreated back into the staircase, and I grabbed another chair and used it to smash the window over the sink and climbed out.
Something tugged on my sleeve in a way that made me say ouch as I jumped out and I realized I cut myself on the broken glass and I’m bleeding. The snow was deep, but I trudged through it. I could tell by the way one side of my car was completely covered by drifts that I’d never be able to drive out of there so I started running. I couldn’t find the road, but I saw a farmhouse up ahead and made my way towards it. I stopped running because I was beat, so I walked as fast as I could.
At some point everything turned white, like I was the one inside the snow globe. I kept turning my ass around like I was trying to see where I was at, and part of me was wishing-I’m not a religious man but praying even—that this was all some fucked-up dream and that I never went to that stupid class this morning.
* * *
The storm lets up just enough so I can see that I’m right next to the farmhouse, but I feel sick to my stomach when I realize no one lives there. The front door is halfway open and the snow is drifting in. Still, there might be a phone.
I feel like a frozen zombie, my arms (one still bleeding and now numb) stretched out in front of me, and my ears are buzzing. I walk through every room in the place and find nothing but a bunch of rotten toys some kids left there. I see that one of the dolls has two faces: a girl one on the front, a boy on the back. I stomp on it with my good foot.
When I pass one of the rooms I see something, like I think it’s a dude’s body, but it looks like the head isn’t on it. I’m hoping it’s a mannequin or something, but I notice it also smells really bad in here, like something died. I can’t investigate further; I just can’t.
I’m not ashamed to admit I am crying really hard now. I go up to the second floor and barricade the door as best I can. From the window I can see that it’s coming after me. The girl side is walking straight over my bloody tracks heading right for the farmhouse. She is wearing the same black coat and her hair is down, and something is in her hands, not the muff, something else I can’t quite make out. I can tell she is talking to her other half because her mouth is moving a mile a minute, but I can’t hear what she is saying. I don’t want to know.
I look around for a weapon…anything, but suddenly I can’t move too well. I realize that warmth I felt between my legs awhile back was because I pissed myself. It’s weird, but I’m not cold anymore. In fact, it feels so hot I start peeling off my clothes. I’m on the floor now, hoping it will…
Fuck! It’s in the house now. I hear it on the stairs. It’s coming for me.
I’m sorry, Dad, that I’m such a disappointment, and I’m sorry Bethany for what I did to you. I’m a prick and you didn’t deserve that. I was wrong. God, I’m so sorry.