Posted 12th September by @Eunuch_Onegin in series The Call-Out
content warnings: consent issues; repetitive music; flashing lights
tags: sweat; stairs; whisky; hats
But now let’s leave that joy or sorrow
behind in the darkness. The least that’s said,
the soonest mended. Come back tomorrow.
What’s done is done. We’ll turn instead
to Keiko, who’s passionately sprinting
back to the club, the sweat glinting
on her brow and limbs, and soaking her shirt.
She’s really panting. Her lungs must hurt.
And then, at last, after breathlessly getting
to the club, the bouncer won’t let her go straight
to the front of the line. She has to wait.
She’s not on the list. It must be upsetting,
I’d guess, for a person who runs so fast
to be halted. But whatever, she gets in at last.
The venue is one of those complicated
types, with doors, and stairs, and nooks,
and various dancefloors, all populated
with gyrating transsexuals. Keiko looks
in all of them. People keep on greeting
her warmly. She doesn’t remember meeting
any of them before. Perhaps they’re just high.
She smiles politely and squeezes by
through the dry ice, the strobe lighting,
and the autotune vocals by Britney Spears,
over floors sticky with spilt beers,
and goes around twice before finally sighting
Gaia, who’s lurking in the topmost space
in a corner, sucking on Baker’s face.
Keiko stares, then turns, like she’s fleeing,
then turns again, like she’s going to stay.
As she turns again she sees Gaia seeing
her turning around. Gaia breaks away
from the kiss with Baker. For a couple of seconds
she hesitates too, but then she beckons
Keiko over, and shouts in her ear
—“That took so long! But I’m glad you’re here!
Look at this party! The place is jumping!
Do you want a drink?” —“No, thanks, I’m fine.”
Then Baker asks —“Were you stuck in the line?
I’m sorry!” He’s slurring his words and slumping.
It’s clear he’s been partying hard all night.
Keiko turns to Gaia —“Is he alright?”
—“He’s fine.” —“He seems like he’s having trouble.”
—“Well yeah, but it’s Philly. It’s like, you’re meant
To be wasted. We’re all in this bubble!”
—“But then, if he’s drunk, how can he consent?”
Gaia just laughs, like the thought is amusing.
—“Don’t laugh! Don’t you remember refusing
to kiss me that time we went on that date
because you said it would violate
my consent because of the fact I’d been drinking?”
—“I don’t . . . I think you misconstrued . . .
That wasn’t a date, and Baker’s a dude,
it’s a different dynamic . . . oh fuck, you’re still thinking
about that night. I didn’t intend
to make you unhappy. I mean, you’re my friend.”
—“Well it didn’t seem like you were looking
for friendship, back when we kissed at New Year.”
—“Oh Keiko, listen I enjoyed us hooking
up, or whatever. But like, we’re queer.
We hook up with friends, that’s just normal:
like, things don’t have to be so formal . . .”
—“Okay but you lied to me about why
you wouldn’t kiss me. I felt like I
was out of control, or maybe crazy . . .”
—“Okay, I might have made a mistake,
But I’m not a liar, I’m not, like, fake . . .
My memories of New Year are honestly hazy
but I really like you, I honesty do,
we’re friends, and that’s not fake, it’s true.”
Gaia takes a step forward. It looks like she’s trying
to offer a hug, in the most awkward way.
Keiko looks like she might start crying.
Neither seems to know what to say.
Gaia glances back. “Oh god, I hate this.
Come on, don’t exaggerate this.
Let me get you a drink? Like, let’s not fight.
This event is so good. Let’s enjoy the night.”
—“I think I should go. I should be leaving.”
—“No you should stay . . .” —“It’s for the best.
I think I’m tired. I need some rest.”
And like that she’s gone, speedily weaving
between the dancers. Over and out.
Baker leans in. —“What was that about?”
Keiko moves deftly, but the crowd’s an obstruction.
She squeezes past a woman who’s dressed
like an extra from an amateur production
of Phantom of the Opera, then one in distressed
futuristic armor of her own fabrication,
then one in a matching combination
of tie-dyed leotard, mask and gloves,
all dancing like crazy. She pushes and shoves,
and the exit sign has entered her vision,
when she hears a voice —“Hey Keiko, hey!”
She turns around, and sees that it’s Day,
and has just a second to make a decision.
She lets her eyes meet the other’s eyes.
Day smiles, “Oh hi.” —“Oh hi,” she replies.
Is her “hi” too perky, is she smiling too brightly?
Who knows what it is that gives her away,
but Day seems to pause, and then frowns slightly,
then asks —“Hey Keiko, are you okay?
You seem kinda sad?” —“Oh please, don’t worry!”
—“You seemed to be . . . in kind of a hurry?”
—“I’d just decided it was time to go.”
—“Already?” Keiko sighs. —“Well, so,
I’ve been, like, tragically infatuated
with this girl. With Gaia. But she seems to be . . .
we’re friends, but she’s totally oblivious to me,
which is why I’ve been feeling so frustrated
about, like, flirting.” Another sigh.
“And now she’s upstairs kissing some guy.”
—“Well clearly she doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Not to be rude, but you’re sexy as fuck,
and if she’s with some dude when she could be kissing
a girl, she’s either shit out of luck,
or straight, which is worse.” Keiko smiles and blushes,
so Day plunges on: “I mean I’ve had crushes
on people who didn’t like me back
and I used to think it was because of some lack
in me, like I was bad and defective,
and they turned me down because they could see
whatever it was that was wrong with me,
like their judgement was somehow objective . . .
but who cares if Gaia likes you or not?
You just need someone to think you’re hot.”
—“Well, sure, okay, but that’s not the only
reason I like her. It’s not just about me,
and actually I’m fine with being lonely,
that’s all I was until recently.
But Gaia’s an intellectual. She’s clever,
we can talk about things, and like, I’ve never
had friends like that so much. She knows
all this cool stuff, like clubs and shows.
or even stupid things, we were playing
this game called Whisky Slaps, where you . . .”
—“Oh Whisky Slaps! I love that too!
Shall we do a round? Don’t worry, I’m paying.”
Keiko blushes, looks at the floor,
then looks back up and says, —“Yeah, sure.”
Day buys two Maker’s. —“This stuff’s delicious!”
They’re doubles. Keiko does a shot,
then bam! Day slaps her. She’s pretty vicious.
—“Oh wow,” Day says, “that was kind of hot.”
She laughs self-consciously. Keiko starts shaking
her head in circles. —“Oof! It’s aching.
You really hit me!” She smiles at Day.
“Alright, it’s your turn. Ready to play?”
Day drinks and tenses in anticipation.
Keiko slaps her. —“You hit like a chick!
Come on, slap like you’ve got a dick.”
—“I don’t think my junk has any relation
to how hard I hit.” —“So give me a slap!
Like, use your wrist. It’s all in the snap.”
Keiko slaps her again, still quite lightly,
Day laughs. “I think I felt that sting!
Owee! No, for real, that was slightly
better, but I get it, this isn’t your thing.”
She grins. “You prefer receiving a bruising . . .”
Keiko blushes again. —“Well, it’s confusing
I don’t know, it’s so hard to get clear in your head
About what you want, you know, in bed . . .
I used to think I was ace or aro
because I found it hard to identify
with any kind of sex where I was a guy,
but even as a girl, the range is so narrow . . .”
—“Ask me, it sounds like you overthink.
What you need is action. Another drink?”
And then she turns, without even waiting
for Keiko to answer, and orders more booze.
“You can’t just hang round vacillating
forever. Like, what have you got to lose?
I mean we’re just trannies. People hate us.
The cis would like to eliminate us
and every day that we survive
it’s like, a bonus. To being alive!”
She gulps her drink in a single swallow.
Keiko does too. —“Oh wow, that’s strong.”
A song comes on —“I love this song!”
Day says —“let’s dance! I’ll lead, you follow.”
She takes Keiko’s hand, does a pirouette,
then pulls her off through the bodies and sweat.
Once in the crowd attempts at style,
or even a simple pas-de-deux
can only last a little while,
and if you’re dancing in a two
you end up in a juxtaposition
inherently suggestive of possible coition.
That’s the whole point. That’s why you’re there.
Day gently brushes Keiko’s hair
and looks in her eyes, with a beckoning smile.
Keiko gives a gasp. —“Oh, I see.”
—“What?” says Day, “you’re attractive to me.
You seem so pure. I’d like to defile
your innocence, at least a bit.
At least, that is, if you’re into it?”
Keiko blinks, —“I guess, yeah, maybe . . .”
Day moves her head forward and touches her lips
to Keiko’s lips. —“Well shush then, baby,”
she murmurs gently, and then she slips
her tongue in her mouth and her fingers into
the pockets of her jeans, so she can begin to
tug their hips together, close . . .
I should tell you that I feel extremely gross
recounting all this in such detail,
but it’s clear that how you act during sex
has moral value, and that it reflects
on your general character. I must not fail
to record information that, sadly, is key
to the drift of this story, out of modesty.
So please don’t take me as being lubricious
when I say that Day is overcome by lust
or rather (to not be injudicious)
that she acts like she is, since we can’t trust
our eyes, I mean, she could be pretending.
In any case, after spending
a number of minutes—twenty? ten?—
kissing, then grinding, then kissing again,
then squeezing and pinching, then humping and bucking,
she comes up for air. —“Oh, you turn me on.
You wanna fuck? We could go to the john?
Or maybe right here! I feel like fucking
in public’s exciting. Is it? Or no?
Maybe the bathroom? Like, take it slow?”
—“Um, we could go to where I’m staying.
Gaia won’t be there. It’s pretty near . . .”
—“And leave this party? This is what I’ve been praying
to have my whole life, and now I’m here
and I want it all. I want to be doing
whatever there is. Including screwing.
And it’s single stall. Don’t be scared.”
—“I’m not, I’m just, like . . . unprepared?”
—“Well then, get ready!” Day’s highly excited,
giggling and bouncing, and it seems Keiko gets
into the spirit. She laughs as she lets
Day push her into the poorly lighted
bathroom, covered in felt-pen scrawl,
and slam her up against the wall.
—“Wait, hey wait, the door needs locking.”
—“Oh shit, it does.” Day flicks it shut
and then commences vigorously defrocking
both Keiko and herself. She grabs Keiko’s butt
and pulls down her jeans, all while biting
her on the neck, and also fighting
to remove the tights she unadvisedly chose
to wear tonight. Her pantyhose
at length half-masted, and the liberation
of her turgid, Cialis-fueled clit
finally achieved, she spreads some spit
on Keiko’s anus, for lubrication.
—“Wait,” slurs Keiko, “is that, like, spit?”
—“Yeah, for your butt, when I’m destroying it.”
—“Wait, hold on, I’m not sure it . . .
I mean . . . I’ve never had butt sex before . . .”
—“It’s good for you. You’ll adore it.
I’ll fuck you like a little whore.”
—“But will it hurt?” Day grins. —“Kinda.
But pain you’ll like.” —“Well I don’t mind a
bit of pain. Okay, let’s try.”
Day puts it in. Keiko gives a cry.
—“Ow! Ow stop! It’s excruciating!”
Day stops. —“I’ve stopped, are you okay?
I was only it in a little way.”
—“Ow, fuck. It felt so penetrating.”
—“That’s . . . kind of the point. Want to try again?”
—“I think . . . um, no? It’s too much pain.”
—“Why don’t I have lube?” Keiko’s unsteady,
leaning on the wall. “Okay, instead
we’ll do something else? Come on, get ready,
kneel down, you slut, and give me some head.”
—“I don’t know if I can, I’m maybe feeling
a bit too sick, or something, for kneeling.”
—“Then I’ll do you!” So Keiko sits down
on the toilet seat and Day goes to town
on her junk with her mouth, with vigor and ardor,
for quite a while, but no matter what
she does (and trust me, she does a lot)
Keiko’s clit doesn’t get any harder.
Which isn’t essential, hardest ain’t best,
but she’s also looking increasingly distressed.
Finally, after the expiration
of a number of minutes (ten? fifteen?)
of awkwardly unilateral fellation,
Keiko shakes her head, twists from between
Day’s lips, and begins jerkily rising.
Day looks at her like she finds this surprising.
—“What’s up?” —“I’m sorry. I’m going. I’m done.”
—“Was I doing it wrong? Aren’t you having fun?”
Keiko starts a reply, but then she checks it.
She turns, and, leaving Day on her knees
she opens the door, looks back, then flees
through the club and out the exit
and off away through the sultry night,
down the street and out of sight.