The Whore Parable

RAMEN NOODLE BLITZKRIEG

“What the fuck did you just say?” She yelled, already trying to wiggle off the bed. “Ew, get off of me. Just get off.”

Rolling over and holding his hands up like he ran into a swat team on the way out of a bank, eyebrows raised and mouth opened, “What the fuck, Jeanie. What just happened.”

A bunk bed, desk and bookshelf, a computer screen with the image of bubbles floating upwards from bottom to top; these were just a few of the things in the dorm room. Clothes hanging out of partially opened drawers and a poster of Einstein smoking a joint with the caption “E=MC420” were just a few more. “You called me a whore. That’s what the fuck just happened,” she said with one hand to her face, shielding her vision from Kyle, her other hand reaching for a shirt.

The bewildered boy in the bed cracked a smile, his mind running through the internal Rolodex that held all memories of all his interactions with all women. He recalled the time he stepped on a girl’s toe at a middle school dance, fracturing it, spending the night in the emergency room with her parents. Skimming through he remembered the first time he tried to kiss his high school girlfriend. She wasn’t looking and had no idea. Turning to face Kyle she screamed and that provoked her father to come running into the living room with a baseball bat. Now, at the end of his memory, he recalled the one night stand he had with an older woman, in his car, in front of her house. She told him her sister was a light sleeper. That night ended with strange man yanking on the locked door of Kyle’s car, screaming, “You think you can make me a fucking cuckold you goddnamn bitch.”

“You think this is funny? You’re a fucking asshole. You think it’s funny to call me a whore? No… you do NOT get to call me a whore.”

Unable to help himself, his whole body in stasis except for his mouth where the smile kept getting bigger, Jennie pulled up her panties and searched the floor for her pants. “I can’t believe I let you put your fucking dick in me. Get out. Get the fuck out.”

The walls of the already cramped dorm room crumble around him. Kyle finally broke free. Maybe it was about self-preservation or maybe he was all instincts at that point but words fled his mouth. “Jeanie, hold on a sec calm down. Just wait one second, PLEASE. Just Wait.”

“Wait for what, Kyle? Wait for you to call me a whore, again.” Her voice faltered and she might have been calming as she inexplicably straightened up the room, rearranging assorted Ramen noodles on a shelf next to a microwave.

“No, just hold on let me explain,” Kyle pleaded, feeling embarrassed that she was fully clothed and he was still naked with his cock limp and the condom slipping off. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You thought I wanted to be called a whore? You thought I’d like that? What the fuck kind of girl do you think I am? Get the fuck out!” Each question got louder like her tone was walking up stairs, until her voice cracked. She picked up a packet of beef flavored Ramen Noodles and flung it at the man in her bed. “Get out!” Then another packet of beef. “Get the fuck out!” And then she moved on the chicken flavored Ramen. Throwing one after another. “LEAVE! LEAVE NOW!!!”

“Please! Can you wait just one second, please!” Kyle pleaded, slapping away the surprisingly accurate Ramen assault.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Just leave. I don’t want to deal with this right now. You don’t understand! Will you just fucking get out!” She said, down to her last few packets and scanning the room for other weapons.

“You wanted me to get rough with you, I thought. You told me to.” Kyle tried grabbing his clothes and putting them on while still dodging the MSG laden noodles. First pulling his fraternity tee-shirt over his head, distracting him long enough to get hit twice. Then hopping around the room pulling up his jeans, almost falling over, he got struck again.

“Yeah, Kyle. I wanted you to get rough. I didn’t want you to degrade me. Get out! Get the fuck out!” Now, throwing books and pens at him that belonged to her roommate, Laura.

“I don’t know. It just fit. I mean, holding you down and getting all rough with you…” Kyle said, searching for his sneakers. “It isn’t like me telling you how beautiful your fucking eyes are or telling you that your skin feels like buttermilk fits in the context of fucking the shit out of you.” Ducking in time to miss a hardcover copy of “Choke” flung at his face Kyle found his sneakers and reached for them. Before he could get them on a paperback copy of “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” hit him in the shoulder.  Kyle yelled, “Will you chill the fuck out?”

 

RETIRING THE BEAVERS

When Jeanie was younger and just learning to touch herself, religion and the will of her parents hadn’t taken hold. If she wanted to be raped she rubbed her clit and pictured being raped. If she wanted to be beaten like a worthless piece of shit her mind imagined the pain in her body and the bruises on her face. But by the time she entered high school she’d see enough boys call their girlfriends whores, sending them away crying. She was only nine when she asked her dad, “Am I a whore?”

Her father, who had only been half paying attention to the story she was telling, sat up straight and turned his body to face his daughter. “What did you just say?”

“Am I a whore? I heard someone at school call Ally a whore. And she started crying and walked away. I didn’t know what it was or why she was so upset.”

Her dad turned off the television and walked over to set next to his little girl on the couch, “Come here.” He said as he helped rotate her body so they were both facing one another. “OK, start from the beginning.”

Jeanie told the story from the beginning about how Ally had kissed Michael on a field trip a few weeks ago, and then kissed Austin last weekend at her birthday party. Then she went on to explain how she thought Michael was really in love with Ally. How he wrote her notes all the time and always wanted to sit next to her. Jeanie didn’t understand why Ally wanted to kiss Austin at all. He was kind of a jerk, funny sometimes, but usually just a jerk. When Michael found out about Austin they got in a fight after school yesterday. Then, the next day at recess, Michael told Ally that his father said, “Ally is just a whore.” Then Michael and others started calling her a whore, too.

Jeanie’s dad took her hand in his and spoke in delicate tones. “I want you to listen to me. The first thing you need to know is Ally is not a whore. You are not a whore. You could never be a whore. OK?” He went on to give the Webster’s definition in terms his little girl could understand. Then he explained further. “You could probably tell from the way Michael said it that it wasn’t a compliment. Sometimes boys and even grown men use that word to hurt women’s feelings. Most of the time they do it because they themselves are hurt. So, I suspect when Michael told his father that Ally had kissed another boy, and that he was upset about it, his father wanted to protect him. I don’t think he did it in the right way. It’s not OK for him or anyone to call Ally a whore. But, seeing his son hurting also hurt him and he reacted to it by saying something mean. Unfortunately he taught his son a bad lesson and Michael went to school the next day and was mean to Ally, too.” Rubbing his hands over Jeanie’s little fingers, trying to comfort her, he asked, “Do you understand, pumpkin?”

That story persisted in Jeanie’s head as she went on to Sunday school and learned about the lowly Mary Magdalene who was shunned for being a whore. Television and movies usually didn’t paint whores very glamorously. But Jeanie grew up having these fantasies that didn’t feel wrong or bad. They were just kind of part of her. She liked thinking about getting fucked, thinking about having a man choke her and slap her across the face. She thought about her clothes being ripped off and a masculine body ramming into her. As she learned how to touch herself these were just natural fantasies. Every once in a while a thought would pop into her head, “Give it to me you fucking whore,” and that’s where she caught herself.

That word halted her hand forcing her to wonder what the fuck she was thinking about. “That’s so wrong. I shouldn’t get off on that. I shouldn’t be turned on.” The words of her father persisted: Ally is not a whore. You are not a whore. You could never be a whore. She’d even go so far to say out loud, “No! Bad Jeanie,” like she was a Pomeranian nipping at someone’s shoes. Over time her fantasies became watered down and distilled. Once the word “whore” vanished the next to go was the face slapping and choking. “No! Bad Jeanie!” Then, she lost having her hair pulled and clothing ripped from her body. “No! Bad Jeanie!” She even felt guilt about wanting a man to slam his body into her, holding her hands above her head. And because she couldn’t control these fantasies the frequency of which she touched herself declined. What once happened everyday reduced to two or three times a week, then once a month. “No! Bad Jeanie!”

For years, the beavers inside her head had been eating through trees and stacking logs across Jeanie’s sexuality, allowing only a slow drizzle to pass through. The beavers were proud of their work. Jeanie convinced herself that she should be proud of her control, extracting all inappropriate thoughts with efficiency. When she freaked out on Kyle, it wasn’t because he called her a whore. She wasn’t really upset about that. He had taken a sledge hammer to that dam inside her mind. Before he had even finished the calling her a “whore,” Jeanie’s body propelled to almost instant orgasm. If she hadn’t stopped right then how could she go on denying herself? The orgasm would have slipped out and turned into dynamite at the base of what had become a very well built and sturdy dam.

 

CROSSED WIRES

As soon as Kyle left and the door was locked, Jeanie threw off her pants and panties. The fighting, screaming and throwing kept her wet and now she needed just a minute to find the feeling again. So, she jumped into the bed and said to herself. “That’s it Kyle fuck me. Fuck me like a dirty whore.” And her fingers were shooting back and forth across her clit; “No! Bad Jeanie!” Turning her head to the left she focused on thoughts of Kyle sliding his hand along her body, kissing her gently, whispering sweetness in her ear. Turning her head to the right all of a sudden Kyle’s hand was on her throat. “Fuck my dirty whore pussy! That’s it! Use me however you want!”

Sliding her free hand underneath her shirt she squeezed her breasts together, loving that feeling of long nails digging into skin. It was as if Jeanie could rip her flesh off and reach into herself. “No! Bad Jeanie!” Head back to the left, curbing her breathing and hand abating, she pictured Kyle kissing her neck and traversing his way to her breasts, his mouth on her nipples tugging them holding them between his lips. Then her head snapped back to the right, and now Kyle was nibbling and that quickly turned to biting, gripping her nipples hard, signals of pain traveling through her nervous system, crossing wires, and ending up in the pleasure region of her mind, Jeanie’s fingers circled her clit around and around, violent, like the final minutes of a spin cycle.

She wanted to be abused like a fucking whore. “No! Bad Jeanie!” Kissed and respected, she needed to hear Kyle say he loved her; loved her so much he wanted to destroy her whore-body. “No! Bad Jeanie!” Grinding her teeth and her eyes clamped closed Jeanie floundered in her bed, causing the fitted sheet to come untucked and balled up beneath her. She grabbed the pillow, wedged between the bed and the wall, and covered her face with it. Screaming, “I’m a whore. I’m a fucking whore! Fuck my whore pussy! Fuck it and don’t stop! Rip my clothes off. Choke me! Slap me! Rape me! I’m a fucking whore!”

 

YOUNG GIRL’S WAR ROOM

Jeanie, Laura and Mable got ready to go out that night, the three of them standing in a cramped bathroom together trying to share a mirror. After spreading pinkish-peach colored lipstick across her lips, Laura commented that Kyle will be there, tonight.

“I know,” Jeanie moaned, pressing an eyelash curler into her eye lashes. “I don’t want it to be weird. It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?

“Yeah, maybe,” Laura answered and then pressed her lips together, made a duck-face and then pressed her lips together again. “I still can’t believe you didn’t like that? I think its fucking hot when a guy just grabs me and man handles me all over the place. Yes, please. Call me a whore. Thank you. Call me whatever you want: slut, bitch even the dreaded cunt. Besides, Kyle is fucking HOT.”

“Yeah,” Mable chimed in. “And he isn’t like a lot of those other frat-boy douchebags. You kind of just know he is a good guy.” Smoke seeped out of Mable’s hair as she slid the straightener down from her scalp to her tips.

“Jesus, Mable,” Laura snapped. “Your hair isn’t going to get any straighter. I don’t want the first guy I talk to tonight asking me, ‘what’s that fragrance you have on? Burnt hair?’”

Laughing, “OK, OK, I’ll give it a rest.” Mable grabbed some eye liner from the unzipped bag of makeup in front of her. “I’m not quite the slut LAURA IS,” she said turning and glaring. Laura pretended to ignore her and just went on applying gloss to her lips. But, Mable refused to back down and finish her thought.

“Fine!” Laura finally snapped. “I am a huge slut. I’m sorry, not sorry all of us are so sexually repressed.”

“Aww, Jeanie” faux comforting her friend by sarcastically rubbing her shoulder.

“That’s why we loved you, babe,” Mable added on. “So we can live vicariously through your slut-capades.”

After a good laugh, Jeanie spoke up. “I see it both ways. I see why it’s hot and I see why it’s wrong. I’m nineteen years old. I don’t know if I am supposed to know who I am sexually, anyway. So, sorry not sorry, too. But your right, Mable. Kyle is a really good guy.”

Above him being really tall, in good shape, having kind of a cute baby face and scruffy blonde hair, what attracted Jeanie to Kyle was how everyone acted around him. They all seemed to want to be his friend. There were probably one hundred people on campus who considered Kyle their best friend. And if you asked Kyle he could probably list all of them. How could she not find that sexy? He was a little older, twenty-three to be exact, and so maybe he had more experience than Jeanie when it came to the sex. Maybe that’s why he felt comfortable taking control, allowing his instincts to tell him Jeanie wanted to be held down, that she wanted her hair pulled, that she wanted to feel his hand on her throat. And in that moment, for the first time, she realized even though she hadn’t said it directly to Kyle, Jeanie, had in a way, told him to call her a whore. Not with her words but with her body and maybe even so with some kind of shared consciousness that happens when two people are intimate. “Yeah, Kyle is a really good guy I hope I get a chance to talk to him tonight.”

 

THE FILM STUDENT TRAP

Kyle was wearing a jacket over an unbuttoned collared shirt over his fraternity’s tee-shirt, drinking a beer from a red plastic cup. The people around him were laughing and cheering as Ping-Pong balls narrowly missed more red plastic cups half filled with beer, arranged on a table. It was odd seeing the fraternity’s Beer Pong champion pass up a chance to show off his skills, but he had turned down the last three games. When others around him laughed and looked to see if Kyle was laughing, too, he wasn’t. Once becoming aware he had missed something he smiled and nodded as if he had heard the joke; as if he was in on it. It had been over a month since Jeanine kicked him out of her room and she was now sitting on a couch twenty feet away.

Jeanie, sat bitch between her two girlfriends, Laura and Mable. Directly across from Jeanie, sitting on the coffee table, was a film student who had a comically large puff and donned a scarf and skinny jeans. He had been going on about his film project for the last half hour and every time Jeanie accidently made eye contact with him she counted the seconds until he directed his attention at one of the other girls, allowing Jeanie to go back to pretending she was texting. Tension built in her temples while holding her head down, pretending to focus on her phone, but stretching her eyes at Kyle. She could tell he had noticed her. He was in a group of people but he wasn’t really “in the group,” standing on the periphery, observing and not really engaging.

Jeanie took a gulp of her already warming beer. Shit! They film student had zeroed back in on her and didn’t seem inclined to let go. Seeing over his should, Kyle bro-hugged one of his friends who just arrived and the two of them made their way towards the kitchen, through the back door and into the yard. Nodding as she heard off in the distance words explaining why the opening scene in Clockwork Orange was so much better than the opening scene from Full Metal Jacket, the rest of Jeanie was right beside Kyle as her head followed his movements.

Once Kyle disappeared from view Jeanie looked down at her beer. There was so much left and she kind of- no, she really hated the taste of beer. Before lifting the drink to her mouth, Jeanie Swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Gulp after gulp got louder and at that point the conversation around her had ceased. Mable, Laura and the guy watched as Jeanie’s head gradually tilted back until the cup was empty. Exhaling, she held a burp back, kind of choking it down, refusing to let it fester and turn into a plaster cracking belch. “Whoa!” The film student proclaimed. “You chug like a champ.”

“Yeah, I’m thirsty,” Jeanie responded as she got up.

Mr. Skinny Jeans acted like he was about to get up too but Laura quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him into the newly opened bitch-seat. Determined to not let Jeanie get away the film student tried to lift himself off the old sagging couch. “Hey, you going to get refill? I’ll come with you.”

“Like hell you are, Tarantino,” Laura quipped in a drunken slur. “You can’t captivate us with your film and not finish the fucking story. You were saying something about how your dad knows a lot of big Hollywood producers?” Laura winked at her roommate and shooed her towards the kitchen. Before Jeanie got too far she stopped and turned around to see Mable and Laura appearing to be interested in cute aspirations of a freshman. She held two hands up to her chest, making the shape of a heart with her fingers, mouthing the words, “I love you.”

 

KEG CONFERENCE

“Hey,” was all Jeanie said. Kyle didn’t answer, frozen once again but this time not facing a swat team. This time he was a teenage kid caught by a parent with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he pumped a keg for his friend.

Kyle and Jeanie just stared at one another and then the friend interrupted. “Oooooooh-K?” He said. “Seems like this is a keg conference I wasn’t invited to.” Turning to Kyle, “Hey man. I’m going inside to warm up my game. Come find me later, bro, and we’ll defend our title.” That Snapped Kyle back to the here and now. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it across the lawn and then bro-hugged his friend again. “No doubt! We’re going to own that shit!”

When the friend was out of earshot, the bravado dropped from Kyle and he softly responded, “Hey… so.”

“So…”

The two of them standing by the keg, waiting for one another, and Kyle tried to go first. “Let me just say-”

“No, let me just say,” Jeanie interrupted. “I really overreacted. Like, you were totally right. I wanted you to be all rough with me-

“Yeah but,” Kyle re-interrupted. “It was the first time we hooked up and I should have asked you-”

“No,” Jeanie cut in. “I was dealing with my own shit and I took it out on you.” Shaking her head. “I don’t know, I’ve felt really foolish all month.”

“Look, I know I don’t know you well enough to really say that I understand what was going. But I really like you. I wanted to see where things would go. I mean, the truth is, I still do.”

“Me too,” Jeanie responded as smile grew on her face. She glanced down, and kicked the dirt, completely unaware of her actions. Kyle reached out his arm and Jeanie fell into him as he pulled her into his chest. Inhaling his cologne, feeling his lips on her forehead Jeanie wanted to let go. She wanted to find that younger version of herself that didn’t care about right and wrong. The one who only understood what felt good; what felt good before everything told her what was supposed to feel bad. There was a piece of her she had denied her whole adult life. Those pieces don’t go away. They linger and fester and once they reveal themselves they are stronger than they had ever been. And right then, that piece of her felt Kyle’s arms tight around her. She felt modest and vulnerable. It all came together as part of a journey she had been on, and that everyone goes on when they have their first adult thought. And maybe over time, she will revert back to the version of herself she learned from God and her parents. Or maybe she will be liberated and break free from a self-imposed repression, but right now, in the back yard, surrounded by other people, standing near a keg, next to Kyle she wanted one thing and one thing only. “I want to be your whore.”

 

THE WHORE PARABLE

Leading Kyle by the hand Jeanie took him to the side of the house where no light from the front or back yard could reach. Careful not to trip over the football and a garden hose coiled up on the ground, the two stepped into the shadows where Jeanie spun around and leaned against the wall.

“Fuck, you are so sexy,” Kyle said, advancing closer.

Jeanie reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, “No not like that. Make me your whore.”

Not reacting right away, Kyle examined her, investigated her emotions. Jeanie’s pupils dilated and in the dark looked like oil spilling out from below her bangs. Finally, Kyle grabbed Jeanie’s shoulders and spun her around. “You like… that you… fucking whore, don’t… you?” His voice cracking and awkward pauses between random words, still not sure this was what she wanted. He worried he might go too far, again. He worried he’d hurt her. Unlatching the button on her jeans and reaching in to her panties, Kyle found her smooth, freshly shaved pussy. “Fucking… whore is already… wet, aren’t… you?”

Jeanie wiggled, trying to get out from under his weight, but Kyle held her in place. “No, please stop. Please don’t hurt me,” Jeanie said almost sarcastically causing Kyle’s baby face to smile.

“Shut your whore-mouth. You’re mine!” This time he spoke without hesitation.

Kyle ripped down her jeans and panties at the same time, exposing her ass to the cool night air. Wasting little time he yanked on his belt, unbuckling it, and letting his jeans fall around his ankles. “You don’t know how long I have fucking wanted this!”

“Tell me how long.”

“I saw you in line at the bookstore at the start of the semester and ever since then I knew you were the kind of whore I wanted.” Kyle rubbed the head of his cock on her Jeanie’s pussy and Jeanie perked her ass up to give him better access.

“How did you know?

“How did I know, what? That you’re a whore? You have those perfect fuck-me eyes. I could see them from clear across the store. I followed you around, and pretended to walk by you twice on accident. I wanted to take you right there in the store. But, I have you now. Now I’m going to make you my naughty fucking whore.”

And even though Kyle’s words were harsh, there was no sting. He wasn’t Michael calling Ally a whore at recess. Nor was he Michael’s dad who taught Michael what to say. He wasn’t even Jeanie’s sweet father wanting to protect her from all the hurtful words in the world. He was just a really sweet guy, a caring guy, a guy with morals and friends, a guy who everyone loved, a guy who just happened to like talking dirty when he rammed his cock inside a girl’s pussy. And with each time he said it, “You fucking whore,” punctuated with his body slamming into Jeanie’s ass moving in and out of her tight wet pussy, the less power words had over her. Not just the word “whore,” but all words. And not only the words used to hurt women but all words used to hurt all people.

Choking and fucking her now, Kyle said, “Shit, I’m about to cum. I’m about to cum inside that whore cunt of yours.” Nothing he could say made him any less sweet and kind. All of it mixed together in a maelstrom of sweat and intimacy. Jeanie wanted him to fuck her like he hated her and now she wanted him to talk to her like he hated her, too.

“I’m such a whore I know it. Give me your cum, Kyle. Give this whore your cum!”

And she felt his cock expanding inside of her, exploding and unleashing, dynamite at the base of the dam, beavers fleeing for their lives, a blitzkrieg of Ramen noodles and something about three girls bonding in front of a mirror. No, it didn’t need to makes sense. In fact, it was better if it didn’t. All that mattered was a sexy man was cumming inside of her, holding her by her hair, mushing her face against a chilled stucco wall. The words vanished from Jeanie’s mind, her juices flowing out, dripping off of Kyle’s cock, orgasming and opening up spaces within her gray matter and allowed room for all things new.