Let it go, son. Don’t try to grasp it, you can’t hold on…
The two sisters disappear out the door, and I’m left in the bath with excruciating hard-on and a man I know is capable of the grossest perversions.
Sri Sai Baba, I mutter.
Ducaase is lookin me in the eye, his head noddin softly. Eh? he says.
I don’t wanna speak. I speak, I break the spell. Let Ducasse reduce it to a wank in the bath, but me, I was just caressed by somethin holy.
Then he’s proddin me with his big toe.
Fuck you, I say, sittin up. Just fuck you…
Take it easy, will ya? he says, and he climbs up outta the bath, his ass in my eye-line. That’s just the start, he says, and he picks up and towel and dries himself off. His cock is pokin out at ninety degrees from his belly.
He’s fuckin up my vibe.
I climb out. I’m hard too, and I wrap myself in the towel. Ducasse doesn’t bother.
I’m not sure where it goes from here, I say to Ducasse. I could quite happily lie in the bath for an hour then go home.
Believe me, you’re gonna wanna see where this goes, he says.
I believe him, because I believe he’s a man who’s seen it all.
The two sisters come back in and titter at the two of us stood there like two carved votive dedications to Priapus.
Their gowns are open, the swell of their bellies running into the dark mound between their legs, the firm elevation of their tits and the chocolate nipples, the long elegance of their necks and the deep abyss of those black eyes… Let me lie here and drown in your warmth… but she takes me by the hand and leads me out of the room and I say nothin.
We’re headin back down the Oude Waal in the direction of the Screamin Pope. I’m walkin on air. I’m literally fuckin floatin down the street.
What was it? What’d they pump into us? I ask him.
Rakomelo. With a mild opiate infusion, Ducasse says.
High-proof Greek firewater infused with honey. And opiates. Pumped into the ass. Now I’ve heard it all.
That was the greatest hour of my life, I say.
Thank you for reading ‘Dirty Slabs of Meat’. Please note: flash fiction and all other content is the sole work of Black Tarn. Ask before republishing.