(Image from the James Gardiner Collection: A man in drag with the expression of being deep in thought. Photograph, 189-. Source: Wellcome Collection.)
This is Part Five of Pinky Promise, originally written in response to
’s brilliant Stream of Consciousness POV Workshop. You can find Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 here:I went back to my well of words from May’s Stream of Consciousness POV Workshop. These three beauties from grabbed my fancy (so to speak) - and off I went!
INSIPID, WHORE, DANCE
My fellow May workshoppers -
- what do you think?
It’s been a wolf’s howl of a night of it, Jodie.
The moon’s fuller than a whore’s cunny on payday and some might say it turns men crazy, but this night? It turned water into wine and rocks into gold, I swear to hell and beyond it did. I’ve just met me a fine, fine gentleman, finer than you and I were ever meant to see. And best of all, he’s a friend of Mama French. Can you believe it?
Now, you know she never talks about no friends, she’s a lone wolf ain’t she, that’s what she says, what near everyone says. But this man? He’s got to be a real close friend, closer’n the devil is to god. How do I come to that conclusion? Well, she touched his hand, held one o’ them real tight in both of hers, and let him whisper in her ear, and she done the same to him. Ain’t that a story, right there? Well, ain’t it?
He’s real fancy, Jodie. A heavy gold watch in his weskit pocket with a heft o’ chain glinting in the lamplight. A suit that ain’t never been near no mine’s counting house, let alone down any shaft, and fine leather shoes polished to within an inch of their lives - Blind Jonas could see himself in them and I swear I coulda seen my face too, if I hadn’t been so busy starin’ into his bright blue eyes.
I got one o’ the houseboys to carry his bags up and he didn’t even ask the cost of stayin’ here. He’s money, Jodie, pure money. I bet if I sliced him from his gullet to his shiny bright cock, he’d have gold running right through him. Wouldn’t that be something, Jodie? Rivers o’ gold, pourin’ right outta his veins?
Oh, don’t you worry. I won’t do that, I won’t slice him, leastways not yet. I want me some fun first before I put coins on his eyes. I’m going to lead him a merry dance, you mark my words! He’ll be takin’ me into one o’ them fancy restaurants in the next town and I’ll choose the most expensive meal and a fancy red wine all the way from France. Did you know you supposed to let it breathe first, Jodie? Don’t know why they call it that, or what that means, but that’s what you do. I bet he knows all about those fancy ways.
Talkin’ of. I’m fixin’ to find out how he and Mama French knows each other, and you recall how I get when something’s botherin’ me, don’t you Jodie? Mama French always told us she used to be poor as poor can be, just like we was back when we were growin’ up. Either she been lyin’ to us all along, and I can’t abide that thought, it eats me up somethin’ evil, or there’s something stinking like a rotten fish about this fine, fine man. And that would be a cryin’ shame now, wouldn’t it?
See Jodie, he gave me one o’ his business cards. Look, ain’t it pretty? Don’t it just smell of money? Why did he give it me? That’s what I wanted to know, so I asked him straight out, juttin’ my chin and starin’ into those eyes o’ his. Nobody mistakes me for a fool, no they don’t, not like one of them insipid, faintin’ swoonin’ gals down at Hail Mary Church. He needs to know I’m fire and that I won’t be messed with. And so he laughed and smiled a bit, and then he touched my cheek, all gentlemanly and said ‘I know you know things, Lucille, and I know you’ll know what to tell me. I’ll make it worth your while.’
Can you believe that? Ain’t that what them snooty fellas call cryptic and I call being a snake? Still, if he’s got pots o’ money, Jodie, this could be our chance to make it somewhere new, somewhere better, somewhere mighty fine. Can’t you picture it? A white clapboard house with a stoop and a swing seat and a dandy picket fence? Fruit trees even? A housemaid and a cook and all the dresses we could ever need?
What a life, Jodie, what a life!
We’ve more than paid our way by now, dontcha think? I been protectin’ Mama French’s money in that stupid meat safe in that hole of a mine for more’n two years, slicin’ any of those lily livered boys I fancy, them loose lipped, stinking’ excuses for men, and we’re still tethered to her apron strings, fine though they may be. If he’s a friend o’ her’s, he can be a friend of ours too, dontcha think? And he could pay for you to get better and look pretty again, like you used to. You want that, dontcha?
I’m fixin’ to tell him about all that money she has, Jodie. I never believed it was rent money she saved, not one word of it. Even though the sad sack boys in town are talking’ about it all the damn time. It makes my blood boil. My skin’s crawling with it, Jodie, I got a feelin’. What if she’s a plain ole criminal, like Widow Jane, playin’ with the kindness of townsfolk when it was her that pushed her husband off the cliff, and not that Daniel Black? Poor Daniel, he still ain’t right, can’t go near a woman without cryin’ his eyes out no more. I bet his dick ain’t more’n twitched with fright since then. Soft in the pants and soft in the head, s’why they call him Soft Boy, ain’t that right?
So, I got me some thinkin’ to do. Do I put us first like I always do, or stay loyal to Mama French, who might have been’ lyin’ to us all along? This fine gentleman, this Mr Malcolm McLeod, Esquire, if we’re believin’ his business card, he could be the one to set us free, couldn’t he, Jodie? What shall I tell him first? What do you think? Why don’t you write it all down for me? You always loved writin’ your letters and you’re better at it than me, aintcha?
Anyways, maybe when we’re set up with our house and our money in the bank, then I’ll see my way to slicin’ him real good. But not after I’ve had my way with him. I think he’ll enjoy it, Jodie. He had that way. Finesse. Worldly. Experienced. Watchful. Observant. Not like the drunks round here.
Not like them at all.
He’s going to taste so fine.
If reading this impacted you and you have the means to do so, you can buy me a coffee - fair warning, I’ll buy books! Or notebooks. Or stationery.
And… Or… you can do this!
Lewdly lyrical. This is a treat, Zivah.
Insanely good. Color me very impressed.