It was six lesbians. No maybe four. All greased and shimmery-skinned. Seven? Of course Gavin wouldn’t have known they were lesbians except they were all women, writhing together in a naked pile, licking each other’s nipples and vaginas.
“That’s not real,” Randy said, stroking his fire-beard. “It’s coming from your unconscious.”
Gavin didn’t believe him, exactly. It looked real, like it was right in front of him. He was pretty sure he could walk right up to those lesbians, all four or seven of them, and touch their sweaty, undulating buttocks. But he didn’t want to argue with Randy.
Randy turned, crossed his thick arms, watched the women fucking each other with giant glowing dildos like light sabers. He let out a satisfied kind of chortle.
“So, you don’t enjoy this.”
It wasn’t really a question, but Gavin nodded. Understatement of the year. He hated it. All those hungry vaginas and giant beach ball breasts, so much squirming and bouncing. And the part he hated most was how horny it made him, in a scary way like getting an erection from walking past a prostitute.
“Your unconscious is kind of a mess,” Randy said.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It doesn’t bother me. Just remember: this is a world of your own making.” He stood watching the orgy, purring a bit, his edges blurring and fuzzing out and then regrouping. “I mean, the other one is, too, of course. But not in such a literal way.”
He turned to face Gavin. Then he sat down in a giant sparkling chair like a throne.
“People are going to tell you that this is an experience of another dimension or some kind of interplanetary communication.”
Interplanetary communication. It wasn’t the kind of phrase Gavin normally used, but when Randy said it, it sounded like the exactly completely perfect expression to describe what was happening. Interplanetary communication. Yes.
“Well, it’s not,” Randy said. “What a bunch of horseshit.”
He shifted around on the chair, settled himself in a nest of puffy jackets and blankets whose colors reflected the burning reds and purples from the orgy in front of him.
“Can I sit on your lap?” Gavin asked.
“That’s fine.” He pulled one especially puffy blanket from the pile, straightened it out, spread it neatly across his lap. “Come on up.”
It was more complicated than Gavin would have thought, a long climb involving lots of tricky handholds and hoisting himself up onto ornate ledges. But the top was so worth it. He sank into the puffy safeness of the blankets and Randy’s broad arms and jolly round stomach, curled himself up like a kitten.
“This is nice.”
“You know.” Randy was looking down at him like a kindly giant. “Eventually you need to face your fears.”
Gavin had been worried he’d say something like that. It was like Randy Ledbetter could read his mind.
“It’s part of being a man,” Randy said. “Not a child. You do want to be a man, don’t you?”
Gavin looked down from the high perch at the writhing mass of bodies below. The orgy had grown in size, grown a lot, enough lesbians to fill a plaza. All naked and beautiful and mounting each other like rutting antelopes. Okay, maybe. Maybe he could, if not enjoy it, at least appreciate how someone might find it beautiful, or interesting at the very least. He just needed to control his fear.
“I do want to be a man,” Gavin said.
“Of course you do. Let’s go.” Randy bundled him up like a sleeping baby in his arms, and they glided down, crackling like static through the air, right into the center of the orgy.
There they were, all around, waving their electric dildos over their heads like samurai swords. He could smell the heat rising from their bodies, feel it on his face. Mostly they didn’t look at him. They were too busy satisfying each other in ways that far superseded his own ability to give or even receive pleasure. But their voices murmured insults at him, Just so we’re on the same page, they murmured and buzzed, we don’t want to fuck you. Voices rising like a fire around him, don’t want to fuck you, don’t want to fuck you!!!
“Calm yourself!” Randy said.
That’s right. Gavin was freaking out. He needed to slow his heart. Slow.
Slower.
His heart.
Wow.
“Too slow,” Randy said. “Bring it back up.”
And he did, he could do that. Just bring it back up, control his own heartbeat. Slower. Okay, faster.
“Stop fucking around,” Randy said. “I need to introduce you to somebody.”
One of the lesbians climbed out of the pile, naked, pale, long hair tangled and sticky, face a little red and scratched from all the friction. Muscles slack from repeated straining and release.
She looked right at Gavin, met his gaze with her own weary, perceptive eyes, that haunted stare. He would recognize it anywhere.
It was Liam Stump.
Sure, it didn’t look much like Liam Stump on the backs of books, on the top of the Liam Stump Society website. That wise man with the hollow cheeks and bushy white brows, thin Irish lips pursed, a lifetime of bitter disappointment. But of course he hadn’t always been that old man. Gavin looked at the person in front of him, full breasts, slender waste, thighs slick from fornication.
This must be how Liam Stump looked as a young lesbian.
She reached out her hands, clasped them around Gavin’s hands. They were soft, sweaty, intelligent and human. When she looked at Gavin, it was like the storm settled around them, became a sweet, quiet rain.
“I can tell you what it all means,” she said.
“Please tell me what it means, Liam Stump.” His voice was an echo through raindrops. He wondered if she could hear him, or whether he was invisible like a ghost.
She blushed flower red, her cheeks and breasts and belly and knees. “A name is such a crass thing,” she said. “Listen, here it is: you cannot fall apart.”
I cannot fall apart.
“Like this.” She reached her hand towards him, touched the fuzz on his chest, the skin, the blood vessels, the layer of fat, the ropey pectoral muscles, the chalky ribs. She wrapped her fingers around his heart, squeezed it hard. Poked her fingers into his atria and ventricles, wiggled them like worms in sand.
Liam Stump has come to kill me. It was only fitting it would all end this way. His heart smashed by Liam Stump, the lesbian. Of course he should have seen this coming, known it years ago.
But she pulled her hand out, dissolved through him, pulled it out bloody and pulsing with his life force. He wasn’t dead, yet, as far as he could tell. Everything felt the same as before.
She held her hand in front of his face. His blood coagulated in the lines of her palm. Chunks of heart muscle were stuck in her fingernails.
“Do you understand?” she asked. She cleaned her nails with her teeth, chewed thoughtfully on his tissues, swallowed. “You cannot fall apart. That’s what I came to tell you.”
She stuck a finger in his mouth. With her body so close, taste and smell blended together, the iron of his own blood, the salt of her skin, the sweetness of her sweat, the softness of her hair.
“Are you following all this?” Liam Stump asked. She moved her finger in his mouth, stroked his tonsils, tickled his uvula. “You cannot fall apart. It’s very important that you understand.”
Gavin nodded, but he didn’t understand. Not at all.
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