Wilhelmina smokes cigarettes at a bus stop between dope-dried ex-beauty queen in pajamas and secret agent student of chemistry shifty behind his newspaper
Wilhelmina hides in Harlem, behind wet glass watching red water suck down into sidewalk drains
She has these invisible heirloom knives slippery when wet that whisper right through all metal detectors A sure winner with the jury
Wilhelmina clucks down the echoey hallway in hurried heels late like white rabbit like either one of the hepburns clumsy in her grace
The door opens to racks and chains and crosses to another he's no dracula but he'll do, he'll do, she's seen him several times and he is rarely kind except in the clean way he jerks the leash and the way he lets flutter a few twenties when it's over
Wilhelmina clenches her teeth to keep from crooning wordless while he strokes her hair while his thumbs press her throat, her skin to unbuckle
He smokes at her, takes away her dress He puts her kneeling He makes her press her lips - like you mean it, slut - to the top of his foot hits her shoulders with a whip heavy as history He makes her choose to submit but she scowls at herself when he cannot see her face
Mouth broken open / datum sorting to stay awake last orgasm logged one month and one day ago in sterile cold hospice bed it had had teeth like a tsunami, had come unannounced and unwelcome to terror-quake her out of mad mad dreams of what? of what?
From behind he hauls her up by dog chain, hands bound at her back, shoulder blades wedged into his thighs. She reminds him, he says, of Kipling's whole universe,
Wilhelmina bathes in a soup pot until her skin drops off the bone for him Wilhelmina keeps her eyes on the floor to avoid accidental contact with her own reflection while she is not at all thinking of you.
Wilhelmina might have been purring somewhere below the whip roar of flagellation
She might have tumbled voluntary and with frightful zest back down gopher hole of electric concentric rings but for barely mended ankles and post-orgasmic stress disorder
in a state of ecstasy not remotely sexual in origin the patient was found hyperventilating was found broadcast in a compromising state radiant with post fuck shudders clutching skull and babbling tearful how beautiful how beautiful the beauty
Wilhelmina is bored of hacking scar tissue
Wilhelmina hurts
Wilhelmina is perilous pent-up quivering after he goes safely clothed, watching her cigarettes tremble in the glass making eyebrows at herself refusing petulantly to fall in line with the baser instincts of a sick sick fucking sick pet monkey
Wilhelmina shudders in the rain, a hand pressed over her mouth from midtown to chinatown
Wilhelmina smokes long distance at the bus stop between scour voiced pajama woman asking always for a light
Looking back on this, I'm sorry I wasn't able to express myself more, but reading the piece again just now, I'm still speechless. When I read something like this, I feel I'm still a novice of ten years before - that anything I've ever written is nothing compared.
That was SERIOUSLY worth sticking around for, I read it in kind of a country accent because the name sounds country to me.
Man, that was just delicious
i went by 'mina' in the dungeon, which comes from bram stoker's character wilhelmina. i do appreciate you sticking around.