Basement TapesMature

Below is an excerpt from "Soft Rot"

Copyright © 2012 Tyler D. Findlay

Edited by Jordan Kimbro

All rights reserved.

 

Amanda finished her bloody mary and ordered a second.  Her head was still pounding.  The sun beat down on the patio, an unrelenting spotlight to her miserable condition.  Leaning back, she closed her eyes behind her dark sunglasses, allowing the calm black to consume her.

Sick little sex kitten 

“Why did we have to sit outside?” she groaned.  “This heat is going to make me puke.”

“Puke over the rail,” Jordan replied from across the table with a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he read the paper.

“Fuck you, Jordan. I feel like shit.”

“Take some aspirin.”

“I did.  It didn’t do a goddamn thing.”

“Then I don’t know. Get drunk,” he quipped, returning to the paper.

“I’m trying.  Shouldn’t you be reading the want ads?”

“Things will pick up after the exhibition.”

“Our rent is due next week,” she snarled, “and you haven’t sold a painting in months.”

Jordan was an amazing artist.  That’s why she dated him.  Unfortunately, his internal rebellion always poured onto the canvas, creating vibrant scenes of death and absurdity, scaring away the rich housewives who frequented the galleries.

Rape and monsters don’t hang well in posh Buckhead high-rises.

Ignoring her remark, he stubbed out his cigarette and lit another.  Her drink came, and they sat in silence until they left.

Stopping by the apartment, they changed into their bathing suits and began to load the cooler with beer.  Cracking one open, Amanda leaned on the counter, her enormous tits overflowing from her bikini top.

“I’ll fucking kill myself if we get evicted.”

“We won’t.  I’ll figure something out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Amanda chugged the rest of her beer, and they headed to the swimming pool.  Jordan smacked her ass as they walked.

Children squealed and splashed—a picture frame of bliss and naivety bubbling in the summer air. Crayon scribblings etched across blinding expanse. 

They laid out their towels, and Jordan hopped in the pool and left Amanda to sunbathe.  Feeling much better after catching a strong buzz, she stretched out her beautiful curves beside the pool, her tan body a glowing beacon of sensuality amidst the innocent backdrop.  Nearly busting out of her skimpy bikini, her luscious flesh hung in the eyes of those around the pool.  A simple arch of her back—enough to blow in your pants.

Sweat dripping.

She pretended not to notice, mildly drunk and pleased with herself.

Three or four beers later, an old man waddled up with a hairy gut shaking violently.

“Hello, young lady.”

“Hi.”

“Have you ever done any modeling?”

“No.”

“Not even, you know, in the bedroom?”

“Excuse me?” she blurted, squinting up at him.

“You know… fucking.”

“That’s none of your business, old man.”

“But it is!” he exclaimed, then quieted back down.  “I make movies.  Dirty movies.  And you, young lady, would be perfect.”

His eyes roamed her figure, melting along shimmering skin.

“No thanks, old man,” she said, laying back down.

“That’s too bad.  You could make a lot of money.”

Jolting back up, she cast a glance at Jordan, swimming aimlessly.

She cocked an eyebrow, smiling devilishly up at the old man.

“How much?”