Gun Sex Read online

  GUN SEX

  Copyright 2011 by Pearce Hansen

  Cover Copyright 2011 by Mark McKenna http://www.mmphotographic.com/

  # # #

  Thanks always to Allan Guthrie and Anthony Neil Smith; Gary Lovisi and Dave Zeltserman; Aldo Calcagno and Todd Anderson; Michelle Cable and Matthew Louis; Juri Nummelin and Chris Pimental.

  Table of Contents

  Girl Crazy (A lost STREET RAISED story)

  I Was A Psychic Friend (No Really, I WAS)

  Far, Far Away

  The Greedy Depths

  The Storm Giants

  Girl’s Night Out

  Greater Than the Sum

  We Are the World

  The Day He Raised (The First Chapter of STREET RAISED)

  Where the Heart Is

  Tom Ripley: A SPECTRE Profile

  Church Social

  Blind Date

  Community Property

  Good to Be a Man

  Paraplegic Killer Chimp

  Carny Love (A Chapter Deleted From STREET RAISED)

  Last Trick

  Publishing History

  “Girl Crazy” was first published in MEMO (Mendo CA), 5/17/96, Issue 69; reprinted online at The Independent Mind, October 2001; reprinted online at Dave Zeltserman’s Hardluck Stories, Winter 2007.

  “I Was a Psychic Friend (No, Really, I WAS!)” first published online at Cyclopz, 1998; reprinted in Whole Life Times, December 2001; reprinted online at Conscious Choice, February 2002; reprinted in Panache, 9-27-02, #17; ultimately included as a chapter in the novel STREET RAISED, Nov 1 2006, Point Blank Press: ISBN: 0-8095-5659-6 (hc) & 0-8095-5660-X (tpb).

  “Far, Far Away” was first published online at Gathering Darkness, 1999.

  “The Greedy Depths” was first published online at Madhouse, 2000.

  “The Storm Giants” was first published online at Drunk Duck, 2001; reprinted in Michelle Cable’s Panache,12-6-02, #18; reprinted online at Allan Guthrie’s Noir Originals #7: The Not-So-Secret Issue, 15March2006; reprinted online at Rosebleed, December 2006.

  “Girl’s Night Out” was first published online at 12th Planet, Volume 3, Number 1, April/May 2001.

  “Greater Than the Sum” was first published online at Hotread and Independent Mind, August 2001.

  “We Are the World” was first published online at 6000 By Night, October 2001.

  “The Day He Raised” was first published online at Anthony Neil Smith’s Plots with Guns! #29, May/June 2004; incorporated as the first chapter of the novel STREET RAISED, Nov 1 2006, Point Blank Press: ISBN: 0-8095-5659-6 (hc) & 0-8095-5660-X (tpb).

  “Where the Heart is” was first printed in Gary Lovisi’s Hardboiled #35, Spring 2006.

  “Tom Ripley: A SPECTRE Profile” was first published online at Allan Guthrie’s Noir Originals, 2006.

  “Church Social” was first published online at Dave Zeltserman’s Hardluck Stories, Fall 2006.

  “Blind Date” was first published online at Mystery Dawg Aldo Calcagno’s Powder Burn Flash #14, Tuesday 27 February 2007.

  “Community Property” was first published online at Todd Anderson’s Thuglit – Issue 21, Friday 2 November 2007; anthologized in Todd’s Blood Guts & Whiskey, June 2010, Kensington Books: ISBN-13: 978-0-7582-2268-8.

  “Good to Be a Man” was first published in Matthew Louis’s Out Of the Gutter #3, Winter 2007.

  “Paraplegic Killer Chimp” was first published online at Aldo Calcagno’s Powder Burn Flash #74, Tuesday, April 1, 2008 & at Chris Pimental’s Bad Things; translated into Finnish by Juri Nummelin and published as Halvaantunut tappajasimpanssi. Assa Magazine. 2008. ISSN: 1797-0431.

  “Carny Love” was first published in Gary Lovisi’s Hardboiled #39, January, 2009.

  “Last Trick” was anthologized in Gary Lovisi’s Deadly Dames, March 2009, Bold Venture Press: ISBN: 0-9712246-9-2.

  Girl Crazy (a lost STREET RAISED story)

  It started harmlessly enough – but then it always does, doesn’t it? Speedy’s friend the Tinman was visiting from out of town, as usual Reseda was in the mood to smoke and drink, and Speedy had never been able to deny her. So the night before, they’d all partied late.

  Speedy had begged off on one last bong hit and went to bed without her, figuring she'd join him later, maybe wake him for a little early morning fun. As Speedy had drifted off to a dreamless sleep, he'd heard Reseda and Tinman laughing together out in the living room, getting on as thick as thieves.

  Speedy was awakened the next morning by the buzzing of his digital alarm clock, and he reached out to silence it. He was alone as he squirmed his ass across the waterbed to perch on the edge of its wooden frame, satin sheets tangled about him as he squeezed his head. God, he hurt – he had to stop partying on work nights.

  He padded naked to the bathroom: shit, shower, shave. He felt somewhat less corpse-like when he was done, but he was still in less than optimum condition.

  While he was getting dressed he looked up at the big antique mirror he had mounted on the ceiling over the waterbed. How many times had he lain on his back looking up at it, watching Reseda’s reflection as she rode him cowgirl-style?

  This morning his only use for the mirror was to tip his head back, examine his bloodshot eyes in the mirror overhead, and consider just going back to bed. Speedy finally opted to stay vertical; still, he wondered how he was going to make it through his turn at stakeout.

  Speedy finished dressing then headed down the hall to the kitchenette, planning to drink some coffee, make lunch, and clean a couple of his guns. He was quiet as he could be as he walked down the carpeted hall – there was no reason the Tinman should have to get up before noon.

  At Reseda’s steady insistence, Speedy had moved them from Oakland into Alameda. Their apartment was expensive as it was right on the beach, but the balcony commanded a fine southern exposure of the San Francisco Bay across Shoreline. Speedy had discovered he thoroughly enjoyed standing out there sipping a black cup of coffee and smoking a butt as he watched the surf roll against the shore – this was the high life, for sure.

  This particular morning Speedy came up on the low counter that separated the kitchenette from the living room. Ordinarily he could enjoy the view by looking over the counter, through the living room, and out the sliding glass door that opened onto the balcony.

  Now, however, the black velvet drapes were shut tight to accommodate the Tinman. As Speedy started brewing the coffee at the counter, he glanced into the living room, expecting to see Tinman camped out on the leather-and-chrome couch like a hillbilly vampire.

  That was not what Speedy saw.

  Without conscious volition, Speedy found himself in the living room hovering over them.

  They were both naked there on the shag carpeted floor. Their bodies were intertwined as they lay passed out after their love play, and the aroma of sex filled the room like strong incense, tormenting him, making him wonder why he hadn’t smelt it in his sleep, alone in his bed.

  Speedy admired the perfection of Reseda's tiny body as he had so often before: the firm, small breasts dominated by their surprisingly puffy nipples like thick gold coins; her tiny waist swelling to her wiry ass and firm haunches.

  Her plump mound beckoned, still glistening. That eternal Mona Lisa smile played across her sleeping face, as always paradoxically combining a baby’s innocence with the depraved worldliness she embodied by her mere existence.

  Low on the Tinman's bare bony ribs, Speedy could see a long white knife scar. Tinman had gotten that scar saving Speedy's life during a brawl in Manteca, years before.

  There was a roaring in Speedy's ears, he was sweating and shaking.

  Speedy kept a Louisville slugger leaning against the wall inside his front door, for unwanted visitors and those random 2A
M pickup baseball games. With no particular intention in mind, he stepped to it, scooped it up, and returned to loom over the sleeping couple.

  Reseda, and Tinman, and the bat in his hand, were the only things that existed. His hand twitched, and he realized without surprise that he wanted nothing more than to raise the bat over his head and bring it down as hard as he could, over and over again . . .

  He imagined their screams of dismay as their bones crunched and the overlaying flesh split like the skins of over-ripe fruit. Speedy stood there swaying, considering the whole dilemma.

  Suddenly something snapped inside him and he said, not even realizing he was gonna say it before the words came out his mouth: ‘Fuck it. The bitch ain't worth it.’

  Speedy chuckled at his own worldly wisdom as he quietly returned the bat to its front door parking spot. He quietly wrote a note to his ex-girlfriend: 'Reseda: Please don't be here when I get home from work.'

  He quietly stuck the note in Reseda’s snakeskin clutch, and quietly left his apartment to go off to do his plant. Speedy sat there in his car quietly all day, watching the money train flow at the fence’s house he and Tinman had been planning to plunder.

  When he got home from working Reseda wasn't there – the Tinman was, however. His bony Appalachian face wore a haunted expression as he stood in the living room, facing Speedy. Tinman’s big knobbly hands were spread wide and empty.

  "There ain't nothin' I can say, is there?" Tinman asked his one-time friend in his Hazzard County backwoods twang.

  Speedy considered, and then shook his head, long faced.

  "You want to fuck me up?" Tinman asked.

  Speedy knew the offer was genuine, but again he shook his head. "No, man," he said. "I didn't have no strings on her. And I'm the one who crashed and left you two alone. I guess you'll be heading out now?"

  It wasn't really a question: Tinman was already packed; he picked up his overnight bag and brushed past Speedy. He stopped just outside the apartment door, hesitated a moment, then continued walking away.

  Speedy shut the front door gently, walked to the living room and sat on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped in his lap in uncharacteristic passivity. The curtains to the balcony were still closed, and he left them that way.

  He sat there in the dim room, considering ways, and means, and wherefores – the fence would be a tougher nut to crack alone, but that was what was in the cards now. Willy was off on one of his frequent ‘sabbaticals.’ And even if Fat Bob had never liked the Tinman, the Tinman had been the only asset Speedy had had available to make up a hunting pair – Bob was currently in jail, serving the time to pay off the traffic warrants Fat Bob refused to pay in any other way.

  The sun finally went down, and the living room grew darker. The light of day was gone when someone knocked on the door.

  Speedy got up and padded across the carpet. His heart was pounding, but he couldn’t decide if it was from dread or anticipation: he had a good idea who it was.

  Reseda stood framed in the doorway as he swung the door open, backlit by the lights in the parking lot behind her. The streetlights were dim, but he could see her hair hanging down to her butt like a cloud of spun honey.

  The low-cut red silk dress she wore clung tight to every curve, from her barely covered little breasts, down past the athletic swell of her hips to the succulent lines of her thighs. The dress ended there, a bare inch below her crotch. Speedy's eyes followed the course of her legs down past her knees along her trim calves; she was wearing platform pumps, and she stood with her whole body yearning toward his.

  His gaze returned to her face, barely seen in the gloom.

  "Aren't you going to let me come inside?" she asked in a whisper.

  Speedy tried to stand firm, but then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. They were bottomless brown pools of need, and he almost drowned in them before he wrenched his gaze away.

  He stepped aside, and she strutted past him into the dark apartment, her short skirt swishing on her round hips with each step. She was doused in cheap cologne, the way she knew Speedy liked it, and it clung to him in an intoxicating cloud as he followed her into the living room.

  Speedy hit the switch and the lights came on overhead, but inky pools of shadow still lurked in the room's corners. Reseda stood next to the tiny sage-green love seat, waiting for him to join her.

  Instead he grabbed a chair from the kitchenette and carried it into the living room. He placed it in front of R and sat down.

  A tiny frown suddenly marred her perfect features, and then was gone. "Why so cold? You can't really be mad about this morning can you?"

  Speedy's eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you expect? He was my friend."

  Reseda swayed over his way and stood right in front of him, almost brushing against him – but not quite. She looked down at Speedy from under her long lashes.

  "You don’t own me," she breathed.

  "That's true enough," he said, voice a little unsteady as her perfume washed over him. "But you don't own me neither.”

  Reseda’s eyes widened and her ruby lips curled into a sneer that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  "Yes I do," she said as she took a step forward, straddling her legs wide as she pulled up her short skirt and sank to sit on Speedy's lap facing him, her eyes bright.

  The blood beat thick in Speedy's neck – Reseda had nothing on under her skirt. She ground her crotch against his, gyrating in a clockwise motion. Despite his earlier intentions, Speedy found himself responding.

  She felt him growing and her Mona Lisa smile grew in response. Reseda leaned forward until their foreheads touched and her long hair cascaded down around Speedy's face; she stared straight into his eyes as her perfume enfolded him to dominate.

  Reseda let the spaghetti straps of her dress slide off her shoulders, and now her tiny breasts rubbed against his shirt in a maddening counterpoint to her crotch rubbing against his. Speedy was threatening to burst out of his pants when Reseda stopped her rubbing and rose up for a moment to undo his zipper and let him spring out.

  "You're ready," Reseda whispered looking down at it with something like reverence.

  Speedy grabbed the underside of the chair with both hands as Reseda tossed her hair back over her shoulders and positioned herself. She slid down and sat there for a long moment, impaled. Speedy could feel her tiny breaths puffing against his neck as she held him without moving, the side of her head pressed against his broad chest.

  Then Reseda began to ride him, raising and lowering herself as he sat in the chair without moving – slowly at first, then bucking more quickly, breathing faster and faster, her hair cascading from over her shoulders to mask her like a veil.

  He arched his hips up against hers, all his old feelings for her rising within him despite her earlier betrayal, and then Speedy’s hands left their grips at the sides of the chair and grabbed at Reseda’s sleek hips as he lunged to his feet, knocking the chair over to lie on its side behind him, his hands squeezing at her and pulling her down again and again against each thrust, standing in the middle of the room with her wrapped around him.

  Speedy was grunting as he slammed the last quick strokes, and Reseda was yelping and moaning as there were overwhelming bursts of stars and the world went away for one long shuddering moment, Tinman and friendship and honor forgotten as he slid off into darkness on waves of ecstasy.

  He came back to himself, still stroking into Reseda as he stood there, Reseda’s arms and legs entwined monkey-like around him. She sighed and then giggled in momentary contentment.

  “Fucking is so much fun,” she whispered.

  Speedy thought of Tinman and stopped pumping her as the realization hit him from seeming nowhere: no matter how many times he fucked Reseda, his dick would never touch her heart.

  He pulled himself out as he untangled her and stood her on her feet. She stood there staring up at him, her dress hiked up around her hips. Speedy looked at her angel’s face – she
had never appeared more beautiful to him.

  “What’s wrong with you? Why did you stop?” Reseda’s voice was shrill.

  Speedy studied her: she didn’t have a clue. “I lost a crime partner today, baby. That’s my problem. I’d like to say I lost you too, but now I see I never really had you. I guess that’s my problem too.”

  He’d paused, searching for the words in rare uncertainty. “I don’t want you anymore, Reseda. You cost too much to keep around.”

  Reseda had stared unblinking at him as he spoke, not saying a word in reply. Then she pulled her dress down and adjusted the shoulder straps. She licked her lips and smiled at him.

  “You can’t say no to me,” Reseda said, her eyes glowing. “You’re mine. You’ve been inside me – I own you.”

  Speedy looked in her eyes, finally allowing himself to see the jigsaw pieces missing from her soul.

  “Time to go, baby,” he said, grasping her arm to guide her out.

  Reseda shook off his hand and walked ahead of him to the door, her hips swinging, her beautiful little butt swishing from side to side under the red silk. She stopped at the door and looked at him, her eyes still strange as Speedy reached past her to open the door and pull it open, careful not to touch her – he did not look her in the eyes again.

  She just stood there staring at him until she realized he wasn’t going to relent. Then she strutted out the door and turned to face him.

  “You think you can get away that easy?” Her laughter was like delicate, valuable things shattering far away. “If I come here again, I can have you again, anytime. Anytime I want you, all I have to do is crook my little finger and you’ll come crawling.”

  “You think what you want Reseda,” Speedy said as he swung the door shut.

  “You’re mine,” Reseda said outside the closed apartment door.

  Then he heard her pumps tock-tocking as she strode away. As he leaned there against the inside of the door, Speedy prayed she was wrong.