kayak catalzie [d1]

kayak catalzie [d1] Dec 8, 2015 0:07:49 GMT -5

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Post by cameron on Dec 8, 2015 0:07:49 GMT -5

k a y a k

kayak catalzie

district one

18 yrs old

codeword: hell_kim

7:00am - i push up the back window and fling myself over the sill, tumbling directly into my bed. the mattress squeaks a little as i pull the sheets up to my face and inch my clothes off and onto the floor beside me. ten seconds later my door is opening and i squeeze my eyes shut. "good morning little lamb, it's time to rise!" i rub my eyes and stretch, a yawn roaring from my body. i ask for five more minutes. he grins and closes the door as he leaves my room.

one day i would learn to get home in time for some sleep. one day i'd move out of my parents' house, too. but right now i don't have to pay bills and sleep was something only the weak craved, and i am not weak.

rolling over, i reach into my bedside table's top drawer, digging around till i feel the fleece pouch against my fingertips. sticking my hand inside, i fish around until i touch the right sized pill, plucking it from its container and popping it into my mouth. in five minutes, i am up and dancing across my room to the bathroom, greeted by our puppy, a tiny little runt of an animal, named hulk for humor. i reach down and scratch behind his ears, his reddish fur parting where i touch. he looks up at me, seemingly in disgust. "i cannot possibly look that terrible, hulk," i say to him, turning to the mirror where - oh, oh god. i can look that terrible.

my auburn mane is the first thing i notice when my eyes hit the glass. its frayed edges stick out in all directions, the strands looking thick and oily. it's as if i spent my night dancing for older men, which is exactly how i spent my night. but the wads of cash filling my jeans pocket are enough to buy a nice little place in no time soon, so i keep going every night. my customers come back almost religiously to see me, mostly intrigued by the length of my slender legs. and i will admit, my legs are an anomaly. compared to my rather short torso, my legs are a grand twisting banister ready for anyone curious to slide down. blue eyes size me up in the mirror, hulk beside me panting and licking at my heels. i pick up my eyeliner and start to fix the smudges of the night before, hulk still lapping at me below. "you are insatiable," i say to him, crescendoing my eyeliner into some feaux-fancy design i've seen on display in my parents' shop. i purse my lips, the plump pout of my lower lip part of my signature look at the club. i paint them rouge and blow myself a kiss.

10:00am - work is boring today. only two customers have come in, one to complain that her vibrator exploded - which definitely is not covered by our insurance - and one looking for a pair of handcuffs. i lead him to the bondage section, where he has the choice of all the necessities. wearing a childish smirk he asks me what i prefer. i take a second to answer, looking him up and down, before turning and retrieving a leather whip from the shelves behind me. turning to him, i let the thong land in my left hand, the fall and popper snapping around instinctively. i return his smirk, and nod his way. he obliges and bends over. "on three!" i call out.

"one, two...." but i don't bother saying three. with the snap of my wrist i bring the tail down on his back, a crack shaking through the store and the man falling to his knees. he stands up quickly, looking me directly in the eyes, an expression of starvation in his face. "yeah, yeah, i'm hungry too." he takes the whip from my hands, grabs a pair of furry cuffs from the wall display, and heads to my dad at the cashier stand. like i said, it's been a boring day at work.

2:00pm - it's my break and i only have thirty minutes to book it across the district to pick up my self-prescribed prescriptions. i rush through the streets, pushing past girls in eyepatches and some customers i know with really large dicks. not that i've ever fucked a customer - i haven't, honest truth - but some of my lapdances get dangerously close. i make it to his house, give the cautionary five knocks, and strut in, finding him perched upon his stairwell. he smiles at me and i smile back. we don't know each other's names and we like it that way. the mystery involved in our relationship drives me insane, but i thrive on it. in my head i refer to him as God, because for the past two years he has had full power over me. he knows i need him to make it through the days. i know he needs me to help get him what he wants. its a mutually beneficial companionship.

he motions for me, and i blush, my shoulders parallel to my face as i duck into his home. part of the giraffe legs thing is being too tall for most doors. sometimes i forget about that, especially late at night (or early in the morning) and there's almost permanently a bruise across my forehead. one time i'd even busted a lip from forgetting to duck.

i sit beside him, one step beneath, and he puts his hands into mine. my teeth become more visible than i'd like as his touch warms me. that's something i always try and hide, my teeth. i had needed the dental work growing up that some other district one kids received, but i wasn't a career so it was unlikely my teeth would ever be featured across the nation's screens. on top of that, your family owning a sex shop is not the highest source of income - i know, shocking, right? = so we could never really afford anything my dad considered "extra." i remember one time when i was six and i fell out of my window (which is funny considering now i climb into it so expertly almost daily) and broke my wrist. daddy knew we couldn't pay for x-rays or casts, so we wrapped it in duct tape and hoped that was enough to hold me together. but hey, i'm still kicking it, and i'd say i'm doing a bang up job.

my fingers curl around his, the grime under my fingernails visible under a chipped-painted nail. magenta, the color of the week at the lion's hammer, held firm to some nails, but the cheap paint the club gives us at the beginning of each week is mostly gone by this wednesday afternoon. next week is "heart of gold" which isn't even gold but more the color of a rusting garden spade. regardless, i can't afford nail polish when i am saving up for God and myself. he doesn't mind that i have chipped nails as long as i get him what he wants.

and i always do.

he kisses my forehead, and slips the pills into my palm. i know i don't have much more time before i have to be back at work, but we don't have another meeting until saturday and i want to sit there and cherish his lips against my skin. some days he wasn't this affectionate. meeting with God was like playing roulette.

i dig into my pocket to find the slip of paper i wrote everything on for him, but it isn't there. i immediately remember leaving it on the kitchen counter before leaving for work. i had sat it down to feed hulk and left it in my hurry to sell some dildos. i turn to him and my face says it all, i'm sure. his lips part from my face and frown hard. it isn't the first time i've come up short on info, but this time i actually have something juicy for him - at least, something i think is juicy. for the two years that i've been gathering information for him from the various higher-ups who purchase my services and sling cash at me like it's poisoning them every second it's in contact with their wrinkled, leathery skin, i have never known if i've given him anything good. one day a smile crept across his lips for a split second, but when it comes to what he wants he is stoic.

"i'm sure i could think of some form of payment you'd accept."

there's that smile of his. he pushes me into the banister and pulls my hair back, revealing a lining of bruises he's left over time up the side of my neck. one thumb presses into a bite mark and i gasp for a second before grinning and pushing him back.

3:00pm - "i guess that answers one of my questions. thank you." i place a light kiss upon his cheek and hop out of his bed. i am late as hell for work and i'm not ready for the lecture i'm about to get, but before i can leave God holds me back.

for a second, i forgot he couldn't walk. his wheelchair is still out in the hallway, next to the staircase. i had carried him to bed before, so now i carry him back out. he smiles and i promise saturday i will bring double the intel for him, and i dart out the door.

i make it back to work and daddy gives me the usual lecture. tardiness never really bothers me though, so i mostly block him out and focus on the clock. it's fun to me to measure how lengthy his lectures are compared to others. timeliness lectures always seem to waste the largest amount of time, which is one of the funnest facts i know. meanwhile lectures on actual bad behavior - such as the time i stole a horse or when i slapped one of my teachers - tend to be nonexistent. a simple don't do that anymore and it's done.

the rest of the day flies by and before i know it i am home, playing with hulk and helping mom prepare dinner. we eat, we have a glass of wine, and we head to bed. and i head out.

10:00pm - i arrive at the lion's hammer, my magenta nails barely holding up, especially after what they have been used for today. the bouncer asks me the password, as if i don't see him every single night. his name is flare gun, or at least that's what he goes by, and he takes his job way too seriously. whatever God is looking for, i think flare gun is involved somehow. no bouncer is this serious. but it isn't the time for conspiracy theories; it's time to make a paycheck.

so i look him straight in the eye and i say what i have to say to get inside: "i'm ready for my bedtime story." then, in a hushed voice, i add, "i hope it makes me scream." flare gun waits five beats before stepping to his left. i walk past him and into the flashing lights of the lion's hammer.