the frantic spasms of a dying man made her cum. he was inside her, he, lying on his back. the light in the room a pale, dirty, dim yellow. not the romantic, erotic, dim yellow. the dirty, dim yellow, which made the contours of his face seem pretty, hiding his ugly features. it also concealed her sagged, wrinkly, trodden form, like cheap make-up. she came with a mild sense of ferocity and a full blown case of venting. she did not cum because he was good. she came because he looked funny to her, comical. she liked 'funny' in a man. he came as well. no, not because she was good. but because he thought he was pleasing her, teasing her, getting her all worked up, like a well laid sunday brunch; more for the show, less because of the appetite. he was supremely proud of himself watching her climax. he liked himself. that did it for him. neither one could see the others' face. a dying man being ridden by an air filled plastic doll with a millions holes. but they could not see this. chose not to. thank god for the dirty dim yellow lights.
she was expensive. to a dying man she was priceless. the deal was for one entire night. but he wasn't going to last that long. an hour, at the most. he knew it and she knew it. a dying man does not last an entire night. a dying man is birthed every night, covered in the sticky tar of the life gone by, the pain from before, his umbilical cord, joining him to the mass of nothingness. his tube of nourishment rich in nothingness. but he does not need much. and nothingness does not give much. thank god for making this work out so beautifully.
he asked her to enter the room. not to touch anything. she walked towards him, towards the bed in the dark. it was a brilliant preview of life with him. living with him was a lot like that. walking in the dark. not knowing if she was walking towards or away from him. not knowing if he was even there. she walked straight to the bed without bumping into anything. she was used to it now. she has lived her life with him. she knew how to walk in the dark, that was perhaps the only thing she knew now. thank god for the practice.