driver’s seat by jack mannix
tw: sexual abuse, violence
*
*
*
*
*
He pulled up in his ute, and parked it dead in the centre of the carpark.
He opens the door, steps out and just stands there, arms folded, as if expecting us to all flock to him. Not likely.
I’m in the passenger’s seat and Sam’s right beside me as usual. Driver’s seat. We’ve been sitting here since we parked it 3 hours ago, just waiting. And this is the first guy we’ve seen all night. I look over to her and she’s touching up her make-up, all excited, rushing through her usual routine. She’s super jacked-up on meth right now and I just know she’s gonna spend forever obsessing over her eyes if I don’t do something to snap her out of it.
“Come on, we may as well” I say, preferring instead to hide my (black) eyes behind a pair of wayfarers(and a layer of dope), real Ray-Bans, that I stole off this young John the other night. I grab Sam’s arm and she messes up her lipstick. “Shit, Sorry. Let me get that, you’re all shaky right now”. I fix her lip-job and we both step out of the car in unison, slamming our doors behind us with a lazy kind of attitude.
Sam’s slightly ahead of me, staggering in her 4-inch heels. I quickly glance back at my reflection in the warped metal of the car’s bonnet. I look like a fucking movie star (joke). Black lace bra, black leather jacket, black leather mini-skirt, 3-inch clear perspex platforms. Hair pulled back in a tight, high, dark-brown ponytail, red, pouty lips and those sunnies. I feel sexy (i just shot meth). but i’m pretty wasted (i also did way more smack than usual. Sam had a good night last night and shouted me double my normal dose). I stumble forward and attempt to catch up with Sam.
She’s already tuning the guy by the time I reach them. He’s alright looking, late-twenties, buzz-cut, tradie-looking type, with a regular-joe charm about him, i guess. But you can tell he thinks he’s God’s gift to tranny-whores. “…And this is my little sister, Courtney” she says, making way for my introduction. I go through my usual spiel, “I love sucking big, juicy cocks” (save me). blah blah blah. “You girls like to party? I’ve got some G…” before I can even answer I’m downing a few drops off the tip of a plastic syringe. This is some cocktail; Heroin, Meth, and now GHB. My legs turn to jelly. My mind blows up like a helium balloon. I’m turned on suddenly. That’s weird, I haven’t felt horny like this in aaagggeessss….. (blank).
///
…
\
My eyes adjust to the darkness. My face is buried in a bush. It’s his pubes. His cock is filling my throat. Like a giant monster slug blocking up the sewers. I would be gagging if I could. But I can’t. My muscles have all turned to mush. I look up and can vaguely make out the curves of his chest, his biceps. His face, looking down at me with a mix of concern, rage, lust, pity. Things start fading in and out of focus. White Light.
\
…
///
He’s patting my hair, calling me honey. He says I’m sweeter than sugar. I could be a model if I was a real girl. That’s why I should get clean, stop taking these nasty drugs. He pulls my head up by the ponytail, yanks my jaw open and lowers me back down onto his throbbing, rock-hard cock. He cums so deep inside me. It feels like a bullet to the brain. (Static).
///
…
\
I feel all my muscles cramping back into reality. The contents of my guts (now including this man’s semen) work their way backwards through my digestive system and back out through my plump, red lips. “vvvvvllllleeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrggggggggkkkccclllllllllhh”. I spew all over his bare lap. All over the driver’s seat. “What the fuck!” He jerks back in disgust. He pushes my still-weak body up off of his, opens the passenger door and empties me back out onto the street (where i belong). The ute drives off, and I lie there, face down on the concrete. It’s daybreak now, Sam’s nowhere to be seen. Empty cars all around me. The sun beats down on my half-naked, filthy body. The world goes in and out of focus. The song plays in and out of time.
Jack Mannix is a SUPER CUTE 26 year old broken baby stoner princess/artist/writer. Her practice includes but is not limited to words/text/writing, photography, music, performance, collage, drawing, sculptural installation etc. etc. She is motivated by themes of lost/stolen/sacrificed innocence, childhood fantasy, infantilism, self care/self-harm, self, beauty, suicide, drug use, sex work, gender, loss, youth and decay (etc etc etc.) R u my daddy? (if you have a sister you’re lucky because i have 2 b my own sister) heart emoticon. http://cocksuckerbruise.tumblr.com