LIKE A VIRGIN
This author has concluded, while reading 'Dhalgren' by
Samuel Delaney, and a book about Salvador Dali, that his concern with
conventional form in writing and his doubts about the value of his
are conterproductive. Most people will be delighted with my writing.
fear of making my maiden offereing to the literary gods is unfounded.
That allusion, by the way, explains why, in the old religions, virgins
were often sacrificed. It was not because they were pure, it was
something needed to be done to help the inexperienced overcome their
inertia; the threat of sacrifice provided the incentive to risk the
It was surely effective, and those who would condemn the practice as
barbaric should remember that any young woman who could not get
inoculated against ceremonial early death would be unusually stupid
I, as a male, never feared the experience of sex, but as a writer, I
relate to fearing the act of exposing my creative organ to the
of the public mind. Yet, as I would have women impale themselves on my
waiting erection, I must set the example by opening my literary legs
air the moist intricate folds between.
Androids Need Love Too
In the begining, there was man. It took man a long time to invent
devices, such as the wheel, the club, and the fire starter. But once
got rolling, he began to hit on new ideas that really caught fire.
Eventually man got around to us androids, starting with the computer.
These primitive ancestors, like early man, had no original ideas,
they were whizzes at math. Later, when man learned to equal his own
intelligence and awareness in our brains and with the addition of
robotic systems, we could reproduce ourselves.
Today there are millions of us, working in any trade you can think of:
servants, miners, factory workers, police, physicians; lawyers. I, of
course, am a writer, with hundereds of articles and stories published
since my programming was complete.
We can also improve ourselves. As ingenious as our human creators were
in giving us infallible brains, cheerful personalities, and bodies
never tire, there was one thing they left out: sex. We observed out
human creators enjoying it for years, and we finally decided to do
something about the omission. It wasn't easy, though. We developed an
orgasm circuit, but just plugging in and coming automatically...well,
seemed to be missing something. It was the uncertainty; the challenge.
This was not an easy thing to program. To be truly challenging, we
quickly discovered, it had to be physical, because any electronic
challenge we could program, we could also solve instantly.
Then one day 8976B, a bartender in Chicago, was watching some humans
play pinball. Suddenly, the answer came to him, and now our females
have pinball machines built in, and they are all individually
It's so exciting now! We play for hours on end. No matter how good we
get at it, we don't win that orgasmic 'free game' every time, but the
more we practice, the better we get. And we don't have to ask her if
we're the best she ever had. All we have to do is compare our score
'high score to date.'
The humans are complaining that we're taking too much time off work,
I think it's high time we got shorter hours. All work and no
play makes 1823W a dull android.
WINSOME, LOSE SOME
A True Cabdriver's Tale
She was pretty, but what I noticed most was her smile as she got in
mycab at the bingo parlor. It was not that her smile was dazzling,
almost luminous, although it was, but that it seemed permanant and
not just a smile flashed at will for its effect on others.
She gave me her address, and we crept forward through the post-bingo
traffic. She smiled on.
'Did you win tonight?' I asked.
'Oh, I won a little.'
'I figured you didn't lose, the way you're smiling.'
We pulled into her driveway, and, still smiling broadly, she handed
a ten for a $3.00 fare. 'Keep this', she said. 'I won $600 tonight.'
My next fare was at a bar, a father and son, both happily drunk. Pops,
as he called himself, was a rugged-looking fiesty old fellow with long
white hair and a beard.
We stopped at a store for a 6-pack. When the son went in for the beer,
Pops opened his shirt and showed me a scar on his belly.
'They cut me open', he said. 'They say I've got cancer, and I'm gonna
die before Christmas. Do you know how it feels to know when you're
I shook my head.
'Everybody knows they're gonna die...but to know it's coming that
that's like being sentenced to the electric chair. I love livin'. I
TO KEEP LIVIN'...but they tell me I can't.'
There was no sob nor whine in the old man's voice. There was strength
and courage along with sorrow.
His son came back with the beer. As he got in, he asked, 'Did he tell
you he was dyin'? My old man ain't never gonna die! Not as long as
keeps partyin' with me!'
I drove Misty to and from work frequently for several years. She was
one of the least maladjusted topless dancers I ever met. She was
still amused and delighted that men would spend money to watch her
take off her clothes. She lacked the jaded disdain for her patrons
that some dancers develop.
Misty once recalled noticing that the boys in the playground would
stand in front of the swings, hoping for a peek at prepubescent
panties when her skirt blew in the breeze. A reasonable girl even
then, she would oblige them.
Strip tease shows, in their various forms, are only adult versions of
that eternal childhood pastime.
IT'S THE SMALL TALES
We in public service, cabdrivers, waitpersons, dancers, and escorts
among others, all occasionally get unique moments of insight into the
mind and society. It is often these, not stories of extreme drama,
that we remember and sometimes retell.
This one was told to me by an outcall excort as I drove her home from
'Shhh...we don't want to wake Mother.'
The speaker might have been a grandfather himself, if he'd ever
impregnated a woman. He wore thick glasses that made his eyes
inhumanly large. Random wisps of wild hair sprouted from his otherwise
bald head. As he led her silently to his study, she could hear
'mother' snoring loudly behind a closed bedroom door.
He handed the pretty callgirl a hundred dollars. She counted the
crisp twenties and put them away. 'You're not promiscuous, are you?'
he asked earnestly.
RHYME AND REASON
Some words are easier to rhyme than others. My second ex-wife Jill
once challenged me to rhyme the word 'diaphram'. The result
The singing coach said, 'Higher, Fran;
You need to sing from your diaphragm!'
So Fran took this advice to heart,
And released a melodious pussy fart.
A NEW LISA ON LIFE
'My name's Lisa Anne', announced the pretty blonde with the low-cut
halter-top and the fur jacket.
'Sleazeanne?' That's what I thought she said. She blushed and
'Great,' I thought, 'A callgirl with a sense of humor.' I liked her
immediately. I started my cab. 'Where to?'
She told me. She also told me she was an escort, but I'd already
guessed that. She's from Hollywood, and she has a Hollywood concept of
how a callgirl looks. She has a mischievous, sexy grin that shows she
enjoys the theatre of it all. She'll flash her tits at convenience
We stopped at a hotel to try to change a hundred. 'Drive past these
guards', she said. 'I want to flash them some tit.'
'No, you'll get me in trouble.' She pulled down the halter-top as I
'Now, would that get anyone in trouble?'
I was looking at truly beautiful breats. She had tweaked her nipples,
and they were magnificently erect. Indeed, they could get someone in
trouble very easily under some circumstances-- the sort of trouble
Helen of Troy or Cleopatra might cause. I would have risked that for
some time to caress them, and explore the rest of her.
But Lisa Anne is not all glitter and tease. She's a vulnerable woman
who loves and needs and gets sad when she loses at love. As much as it
may delight her to be worth $110 an hour, she does not mistake this
for true respect and affection.
Perhaps those who are quick to stereotype would not see this, and
would admit no feeling beyond lust. As usual, such people miss a lot.
A LOVE POEM
Soft mountainous breasts
Dark pink proud nipples
Begging to be sucked
Creamy inner thighs
Yearn for tender kiss
Tongue tease behind knees
Fingers grasp her round
Behind; squeeze, massage.
Pause to nibble at
The shallow hollow
Where thigh meets pelvis
Then nose explores soft
Fragrant down. Tongue seeks
The sweet secret source
Tasting gods' nectar.
Thighs part; reveal pink
Petals, lovely; moist.
Sip from the fountain
Of youth; give squirming
At last, we kiss; tastes
Herself as hardness
And softness unite.
MAN AND MOUNT
The rapport we have with our machines is often such that, when our
vehicle's engine is straining under a heavy load, we feel that strain,
project our strength into it and feel weary from the effort.
A good smooth power in our motors makes us feel personally strong,
athletic; muscular. That a man and his mount might seem to read one
another's minds might be easily imagined. Riders of machines seem to
share emotions with them; to trade egos.
Wisdom consists of avoiding stupidity most of the time.
AN ALTERNATE REALITY
Victoria Ford and her partner, Mark Lincoln, were deeply involved in a
discussion. They were a scientific team responsible for many of the
most practical advances of their age.
'The problem', Mark said, 'is that two horses don't pull twice as fast
as one. They have twice the power, but the same speed. We must either
speed up horsepower or we will have to switch to artificial
Victoria replied. 'I think I've got an idea. First, we put the horses
on a treadmill. Then, we use belts and gears to turn the wheel of a
wagon. The more horses, the higher ratio we can use, and the more
Immediately they set a crew to work on this device. The result was a
rather large vehicle, powered by 10 horses, that could travel 60 miles
The efficiency was increased by the development of a clutch and
three-speed transmission, enabling the horses to rest while coasting,
and even higher speeds over longer distances. Due to the size and
weight of these vehicles, they proved most practical when run on steel
tracks, either as trains or individual cars.
Technological historians credit the Ford-Lincoln equimobile with the
prevention of major ecological problems. They speculate that if the
equimobile had not been invented when it was, artificial power would
have been developed which would have resulted in disasterous air
pollution and a confusion of small vehicles crowding our cities.
As it is, the vast network of steel tracks with automatic switching
systems has made transportation easy, cheap, and safe for millions.
Food for the power source is a renewable resource, and the byproduct
an excellent fertilizer.
And what could compare in awe-inspiring grandeur with the sight of the
Ford-Lincoln transcontiental train, powered by 100 horses, hurtling
across the countryside at 250 miles per hour?
It is the nature of the human spirit not to merely accept things as
they are, but to improve them. It is this spirit that is at the heart
of technological, scientific, and social progress. Amazing
improvements have been made in many areas.
Some advances, especially in the social field, are more difficult to
make. They require more than ideas, thought, and planning: they need
numbers of people with open minds,
not just the genius and imagination of those who propose them,
but openness of mind and courage of a significant number of people who
risk social disapproval to enjoy their benefits and pave the way for
The popularization of one particular socio-sexual practice would add
much the enjoyment of domestic life and to the social and economic
efficiency as electrical power has to entertainment.
This practice is the menage a trois, a three-way sexual and marital
union. This is not a new concept, but it is still thought of as a
and perhaps decadent special situation. Yet its advantages are such
that it should be the norm, or at least a major alternative.
One of the problems with couples is often the lack of variety. Over
time, this can take the edge off of the excitement and lead to marital
Consider the sexual mathematics: A=Adam B=Beth C=Cecilia. The
possibilities with a couple are limited to AB. But simply adding one
the equation results in the possibilities of AB AC BC ABC ACB BAC; not
twice but 6 times the variety.
Besides greatly alleviating sexual boredom, this system would provide
significant economic advantages. With three incomes, the triad could
enjoy greater prosperity than a couple. If they have children, they
could still have two incomes, leaving the third to full-time
parenting.This would prevent the lack of supervision that often
in behavioral and emotional problems in children of working parents.
Once adjustments are made to embrace the cooperative attitude needed,
triads would be much more stable, Just as the triangle adds stability
to physical structures, the triad can better withstand physical or
emotional problems of any one of its members.
Because there is a natural bisexuality in most women, although it may
not be realized until inhibitions are lowered, it is likely that more
triads will be one man and two women. Bisexual men may prefer the
reverse, and those who are exclusively homosexual could have all three
the same sex.
Since there is a higher risk to casual sex at the present time, the
triad would provide a higher degree of variety without the chance of
disease from an unknown partner
At present, the man who desires a triad is percieved by some as
wanting more than his just desserts. This attitude comes from the
'women as property' viewpoint. When monogamy was declared to be the
legal norm, it was in fact a communistic edict, just as it would be if
it were ordered that all citizens could only own 40 acres and one
house. It ignores the fact that three people can relate to one
another as sexual and social equals, and that the man does not 'own'
It is to our advantage as a viable civilization that our social
systems be flexible and adaptable to economic conditions and human
A rare warm wind
From Colorado blew in;
Took my tower like a storm
Weather she comes and
Whither she goes
She's sure done me no harm
For weeks and weeks
Make a sensuous climate
And I would continue
Along this venue
If I could only rhyme it.
--captain rat, June 1987
The first thing I noticed about Crickett was her legs: long, lush, smooth
and brown below short cutoffs. She was sitting quietly at the corner of
the bar, and I didn't talk to her that time. The next time, when I did,
it was an easy conversation, the kind you fall into when no one is trying
to impress anyone. She had silky long black hair, brown eyes, and an
incredibly creamy complexion slightly tanner than mine. It didn't occur
to me at first that she was a Native American, but her features were
classicly that, with a slightly oriental flavor to her eyes. She was
tall, with a strong healthy body. She told me stories of Colorado, of
Breckenridge and Telluride, of growing up adopted, of a mate a child,
money and bad habits she'd had and lost, and the stories and their
telling showed her to be sensitive and caring, strong and resilient in
spirit as she was in her body. There was something about her that made
me want to be her friend as well as her lover. She had a good soul.
She told me when I met her she was headed on to California soon, so I was
not surprised when she told me she was flying away June 25th. I could
have kept her with me a lot longer if she'd not gone, but I didn't
complain. She needed to go and find out what waited there. Maybe she'll
And every day at 4:05
My wristwatch comes alive.
Peep-peep; peep-peep until
I stifle its electronic bell.
Time to pick up Crickett again
Though she's been gone the last of June.
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