A World without Men

"C'mon, make this thing dance inside me."

"He dances for your kiss."

"I'll give it the blowjob of its life."

A shifting sound, kneeling on the wood floor.

"Make your tongue a snake tongue."

"Oh, yeah. I'm gonna love —-pop — playing the flute with this baby."

"Yessss," said Adè. "Do it. Suck."

The slutty bitch, I thought. The slutty, sucking, slurping, slopping bitch.

\ \ \

It took surprisingly little time to consummate. Adè hissed through his teeth.

Reva's hum became a startled tone that rose in urgency . She coughed and sputtered, and moments later she cried out in fresh surprise. "Oh, oh, my god!"

Adè hummed, deep breaths of triumph and satisfaction.

"Oh, my god . . . oh, my god." She was panting. In a few moments she said, "That was a fuck of a lot more than a tablespoon." Adè laughed. "My god. I have to clean up."

The floor boards groaned as she got to her feet. She sounded wobbly, then stumbled. The couch un-sagged.

"Take my hand, Mz."

"Are you some kind of genie, Adè?

"Was a wish fulfilled?"

"I'll never have to fantasize again, only remember. You nearly fucking drowned me."

I heard the creak of the bottom stair and stood transfixed with panic. Several steps up, not yet in view, Reva stopped climbing and said, "Oh, my god, that bronze thing is yours! It's your raft, your snake raft on the sea?"

"These are metaphors, Mz?"

"Ha. Jeez, it's all runny. Let me go wash."

"I must finish the roof."

"Can't you just ...?"

"No, Mz."

He chuckled as he walked out.

"Remember, you owe me a fucking," she said.

The screen door squealed and slapped shut.

/ / /

Her eyes popped when she saw me. Her hair, her fingers, her face, her bared tits, all slick with semen. She looked horrific, like that girl drenched at the prom.

Her hands signaled, Don't move! She dashed into the bathroom, stepped into the dry tub and stripped. She turned the tap - an empty metallic squeak.

"I keep forgetting," she said. "Could you please -?"

"The pail at the base of the sink," I said, "it's full. There's a clean wash cloth and a towel for you."

"Ha. Like you knew."

A pour, a splash, Reva muttered to herself, "Oh, my god," repeating the ritual at least half a dozen times. I stayed in the hall, feeling betrayed and, unexpectedly, fighting back tears.

"You are full of surprises, Macy, full of surprises. Until yesterday, I fully suspected that you were asexual."

"Then I turned out to be your best fuck buddy ever. Until a cobra shows up."

She stood naked in the doorway, drying herself. Hair frizzed, mascara tears running from the corners of her eyes.

"You heard all of it," she said, "everything, every detail?" She held up an index finger and made it undulate like a snake. "He can make the head of it dance! It's alive. I've never dreamed anything like it."

She caught my expression.

"What's the matter?" she said.

"You look so ... defiled."

"I came twice just diddling myself."

"Reva, you -"

"It's like a snake." She held a thumb and index finger four inches apart. "About that much of the end of it moved." She waved her finger. "Like that. The cobra. Did you rub one, listening?"

"You have to go," I said.

Adè's footsteps were on the roof, moving in our direction.

"He's still here. God, Macy, you can see it for yourself."

I couldn't stem my tears. "We just made love," I said. "We - I -"

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I don't mean to hurt you."

She opened her arms to hug me and I recoiled.

"Are you heartless, Reva, or just depraved?"

Hammering started, right on top of us.

"Macy," she said, "this is insane, but bam I am truly beginning to believe that bam he's something, I don't know, bam bam bam maybe not a genie, but not just human, maybe something else -"

"Your soulmate."

Bam. Bam bam bam.

"Why are you so bitter?"

I wiped my eyes. "We were tender with each other, you stupid cunt."

She said, without anger, "I don't owe you fidelity."

"You owe me respect."

"I didn't mean to disrespect you. You were hiding."

I told her to leave. As she packed her few things, I went downstairs to tell Adè to stop working and go, leave the roof as it is and go. The bronze raft of snakes caught the corner of my eye. I picked it up.

Adè was standing at the screen door.

"How long have you been there?" I said.

"I have only just stepped down."

"Good. You can stop working. I don't want you to come here anymore."

"The vessel, Mz. It belongs to me."

"Oh, no," I said. "Reva doesn't get to give this away."

"It is not hers to give. Nor yours to keep. It belongs to me. It has always belonged to me."

"Please leave my porch," I said. "Get off my property."

"Return it to me, Mz, or a storm will come."

"Really? I think we average one every-other-day."

"This day. Soon."

"Another whopper?"

"A storm to punish."

"If that's a threat, then I've lost all respect for you," I said. "Go away now, Adè. Don't come back."

"You are angry because your friend kissed the cobra."

"You had sex with her in my house. I thought you were a decent man."

"The vessel, Mz."

"Mine," I said.

"I will wait for her, then we shall go together."

As Reva passed me on her way to the door, she said, "You can't keep it. It'll destroy you."

"A memento of our friendship," I said.

She turned around, but Adè caught her by the arm and said, "Do not be unkind. She is alone. She feels a true pain."

"With more to come," Reva said.

They left me stunned at my own front door.

\ \ \

My roof had to be finished, and I needed to inform Bill Shirley that one of his employees enjoys a blowjob while on the clock. I was approaching the stairs to the Flats, when Reva called from behind. She was running.

"Stay away from me," I shouted.

"Macy, wait," she said. "You must listen."

"I hid the thing," I said.

"My sycamore, the one Bill cut up? It's off my house. It's back upright. He made it stand."

"You made it stand."

"He said it won't ever be the same, but it can recover. What if he can save the Sisters?"

"Do I have to kiss his cobra to find out?"

"Believe me, please, sarcasm is not the way to go with him. Imagine, you could save them. There can be grace."

"That's delirium, Reva. Delirium. You're all whored out."

"I'm going with him," she said.

"Going where?"

She reached for my hand.

"Don't touch me," I said.

"Bring it to him. He'll do good for you."

I turned and walked.

"I won't see you again."

"Happy sailing, Reva."

The last words I heard from her were, "How can I say no to a miracle?"

/ / /

Before I passed through the Flats, the sky became dark and rumbling. The tops of the pines rattled and bent. Then the wind picked up roughly and became dangerous. I turned back to the house, having to lean hard into the current, pelted by debris. The rain swept in as a sheet.

There was a terrible ripping sound when I reached the yard, and I looked toward the roof in horror. Dozens of shingles, torn all at once from the storm-side of the house, streamed over the peak like a panicked flock of birds, tumbling in their flight. In a panic, I envisioned the wind systematically dismantling my house, flaying it layer by layer: shingles, roof, outer walls, inner walls - down to the very bones of the frame, scouring it to a bare carcass.

I ran into the house and grabbed Adè's vessel. In the teeth of the wind, I carried it to him at Reva's.

Her door was locked. The bell wouldn't sound. My fist pounded the door. I called their names.

"Adè," I cried, knowing my voice was swept by the wind, "in the name of mercy, please!"

The door flew open of its own accord. Reva and Adè stood by the balcony rail, framed by the storm outside, too far away for either to have opened it. No wind followed me across the threshold. The room felt as calm as a mild day.

Adè spoke. Reva held his arm.

"You say in the name of mercy, Mz?"

"I brought your vessel, Adè. Please, I couldn't believe. I didn't know."

He pointed to where he wanted it placed on the floor.

"Between your house and your trees, which do you choose?"

"The Sisters, the trees."

"Your house or only one tree."

"One tree."

"You will swear an oath," he said.

"How? What kind of oath?"

"An oath of atonement, Mz, for your unbelief."

"Of you?"

"Of my largesse." He covered Reva's hand with his own, awaiting my answer. Then he said, "If you would save that which you love most, Mz, you must serve one whom you love least," Adè said.

"Least? Someone I love least?"

Adè nodded.

"But -"

"You must swear, Mz."

"What if I don't know who or how?"

"Fulfill the oath within a full turn of the day, Mz. You will know who and how."

"Save the Sisters, please, Adè."

"Swear." He gave me the words of oath.

"I swear to atone for my disbelief. I swear to serve, within the full turn of the day, one I love least," I said.

"Someone you abhor, Mz."

"Some- . . . someone I abhor."

The words brought on a queazy feeling.

"We are not yet at the end of the world, Mz. You spoke for the Sisters. Fulfill your oath and see."

\ \ \

The gale abated as I ran home. The trees ceased waving. The low clouds lightened and lifted, showing miraculous seams of sunlight. The last of the rain became a glittering spray.

I meant to run straight to the Sisters. My hope for their restoration had surged into a certainty. Adè could save them, he had already saved them. Yet, before they were in view, my strength failed. I stopped inside the fence, bent over, breathless, with an onrush of vertigo. The ground splashed mud as I fell to my hands and knees. What was to be believed, what denied, if Adè had such power as to save them? I reached the house on all fours, without lifting my eyes from the ground.

/ / /

The vertigo passed. I stood up, still lightheaded, not knowing whether to stay put or go inside. Thirst, the need to relieve a dry mouth, got me moving.

I avoided the seaward view, and closed the curtains above the sink before sipping a little water, while sitting at the table, unable to think. I lay my head on my arms until a deep breath came, and I regained myself, and sat up and went to the door, opened it, and fainted.

\ \ \

If that had been my death, I wouldn't have known. Maybe it's nothing to die.

/ / /

I approached the Sisters tearfully, in awe. Three peaks, three upright trunks. Each trunk had a rope around it. Each rope ran taut over the ledge of stone. Peering over the ledge, I saw that each rope had a boulder hanging securely from its end in a net.

\ \ \

Ritual. A warm sponge bath. A good hair brushing, naked in front of a mirror. Putting it up damp, telling myself, You are your own refuge.

An hour later I found John Dobbs on the square and approached him directly.

"Quite a squall," he said.

"My roof again, and more," I said, then asked him if he had an hour or so to spare.

"For you? Sure."

"A favor," I said, then asked him to come with me to the Mounds and assess the condition of the little house.

"Let's go," he said.

/ / /

He walked behind me, a yawing gait. I felt in control of myself through the Flats. "Smart bombed," he said of the fallen pines.

The jitters began as I climbed the stairs. Each step took greater effort and will. My focus narrowed on the weathered grains of each board, the nail heads raised and rusted, the gray puddles on the path at the top, the mini-scape at my feet, anything to keep at bay an image of what lay ahead.

\ \ \

As we reached the house, the first of twilight lit the trees, heightening their color beneath the fading sky. I had to get inside or the beauty of the light was going to kill me.

When he saw the Sisters, he stopped in astonishment. "How'd you do that?"

"Magic, I think."

"That's what it took, I'm sure. You know, it's unusual for that kind of cypress to grow like that, that close and interconnected. They're often alone. I don't doubt that's why these were blown down. They caught too much wind. Might've saved the house."

"Why didn't you tell me about them when I disembarked? You said the house didn't do too bad, but you didn't mention the trees."

"No. I thought you'd prefer to discover that yourself. You wouldn't've wanted to hear it from me."

"Something to drink, John?"

"Got bourbon?"

"Go ahead and look around," I said, "I'll bring it out."

"Neat, if you don't mind."

"Neat is all I have."

While he circled the house, inspecting up and down, I poured a tall bourbon for him and a fortifying shot for myself, downing it, and chasing with water before gathering nerve enough to join him outside.

He was near the promontory, looking up at the Sisters.

"What do you think, John?"

He took his bourbon and said, "The house, you got nothing to worry about. Re-paper and shingle." He indicated the ropes. "That's about as primitive as can be. I'd like to know how it was done."

"Can we talk inside, John?"

"Uh, sure, okay, sure."

He followed me to the porch, stopped and turned toward the sea.

"Nice view."

"Come in."

"Aye-aye."

"Take a seat on the couch."

He sat on the middle cushion. I had expected him to take one end and leave the other for me, but placing himself midway simplified things. I sidled in like a lady, perching on edge. He started to make room, but I touched his thigh and stopped him.

"It's all right, John. I want to talk."

"I think I know what you're after," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious you want me to get Bill over here to do your roof."

My hand slid higher from his knee as I leaned in.

"Is there something I can do, some incentive to get you to ask him?"

I squeezed his thigh. He looked down, then at me. His eyes seemed unfocused.

"What's this?" he said

"Incentive."

"You don't need to, but don't stop."

My nails grazed his cock along his pant leg and I talked a little dirty to him, this bleary-eyed drunk, telling him I'd heard that cocks, like ears, noses and feet, continue to grow throughout life.

"I'm bigger than ever."

"Unzip," I told him, "let me see."

"Are you foolin' with me?"

"No. I want to see it."

He unzipped like an eager boy, undid his buckle and hitched his skinny, sagging buttocks off the couch to shove his pants down his thighs. As he went for his boxers I said, "Leave them on," wanting to see no more than I had to. "Just take it out, John, through the fly. Show me."

He fumbled into his fly, lost for words. I told him I wanted to see his balls too, but only his cock and his balls, nothing else, so he worked his surprisingly long, old dick, and his baggy sack, with his old man's jewels, out through the overlap of fabric.

It reminded me of exotic fruit, presented on a cloth, half erect. And he was uncut, something unfamiliar and vaguely repugnant to me.

"Stroke yourself, John. Make it stand."

He held his shaft between thumb and fingertips, near the head, like an instrument to be played vibrato. His foreskin was so long that his down strokes exposed only half the head.

"I hope you'll help," he said.

"Let me watch you first. It excites me."

"Can you show me something?" he said.

"What would you like to see, John?"

He swallowed hard. "Well ... your titties, maybe? Would that be too much?"

I stood up and pulled off my top and sports bra.

His tempo was already rapid, eyes fixed on my chest. He grew flush, and his breath became raspy.

I felt unsteady as I sat next to him and reached for it. My hand shook as my fingers curled. I stroked him. I drew the foreskin down to expose the head, whispering for his pleasure, "Oh my god, so hot in my hand -"

With his head back and eyes closed, lost in his Eden, he felt me up and pulled lightly on a pointed nipple. So bizarre is the mind —

I slipped onto my knees and scooted between his legs. He lifted his head. "Huh?"

I held his erection by the foreskin, stretching upward, peeking at the pee hole within. Tugging minutely. Actually jacking him by the foreskin. On an insane impulse, I stuck my tongue inside the sheath and licked in a circle. His pelvis jumped and popped the head of his cock into my mouth. I broke into a bilious sweat, holding it there.

/ / /

No way I could do more. Thankfully, fingertips and tongue were enough. I licked and kissed his baggy scrotum, then up the underside, all the way to the puckered cap at the top. Held the foreskin between pinched fingers again, tugging up, drawing down, teasing to the point of torment.

"Oh, oh!" he said. His legs went rigid. His dick began to pulse and throb.

He ejaculated - oozed would be a better term - enough warm, watery semen to overflow the basket of flesh held up by my fingertips.

When released, the foreskin closed. His semen dried on my fingers in that peculiar way that semen dries, like a mollusk trail. I went to the sink to wash it away, but an alkaline scent lingered.

John remained on the couch. In the dusk, I could not see his face.

"Oh, my. Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I'm afraid I - I mean - after that, I don't know what I can do for you, I mean, besides the roof."

"There's no need, John. I'm fine. I enjoyed it."

"Well, me too. I never dreamed - "

"Don't talk, John."

After cleaning him up with a warm washcloth, I sent him on his way. At the gate, he hesitated. "Can we -?"

"No, John, we can't. Don't ever talk to a soul about it. Never a word."

"Oh, no, you know I won't ever - I would never. Who'd believe?"

"Let's say goodnight."

He smiled uncertainly.

"I'm grateful, Macy. I really am." He turned his flashlight on before saying goodnight and closing the gate. At the click of the hasp, I felt a longed for relief, and looked upward to the high branches, where the very last of color-soaked daylight was disappearing.

\ \ \

The night brought an unexpected peace, a dreamless sleep and a feeling of restoration on waking. Dawn broke with linear purple clouds above the horizon. As first light raked the island, I threw on a robe and walked barefoot through the dew to the Sisters. The horizon seemed infinite, the air as crystalline as heaven, as though all the tired care of the ruined world had been rinsed clean.

From the cliff head, standing with the Sisters, I caught an impossible sight, something not to be believed. The sunken schooner, the levitating ship of my dream, glimmered under full sail, leaning before the wind on a south by southeast course. Not an hallucination, not a mirage - a crisp and sustained image. That schooner, raised from the harbor floor and polished to a sheen, slicing the waves under white canvas, and so fitting a sight that I never thought to wonder how she could have come to be there.

Less crisp and less sustained an image were the two figures I thought were aboard. They appeared as smaller things do when viewed over shimmering water, as broken, intermittent bands of shadow and light, more suggested than seen, blips mid-deck.

A wind blew through the Sisters and they spoke. Lo, they said, that little ship has a timeless beauty, and its only purpose is to flaunt itself on the sea.

End