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Subject: {ASSM} The Saga of Blanche, Part VI: Blanche Meets Coyreen
Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2000 23:10:57 -0400
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The Saga of Blanche, Part VI:
Blanche Meets Coyreen
by
Frank Saynesberry
(This story is for adults. If you are under 18, or dislike graphic
descriptions of sexual activity, please don't read it.)
*********************************************
It would be hard to explain just how Blanche Snowe worked her way into the
hearts of the Devil's Dwarves, and why the Dwarves meant so much to her. I
know, because I've had the chance to interview Blanche, as well as all of the
surviving Dwarves, and none of them were quite able to put it into words.
All they could say for sure was that the Dwarves had discovered her, nude,
abandoned, and terrified, in an alleyway in Watts; that they'd taken her back
to their home/headquarters and tried to take care of her; and that she had,
in her unique way, taken care of them in return. Of course, Blanche and the
Dwarves had a few things in common: they were all outcasts, rejects, and what
polite society calls "failures;" even Blanche, the one who'd led such a quiet
and sheltered life in the Midwest before coming to LA, where she'd landed a
secretarial job at O'Smiles Productions, had now been brutally "dismissed,"
and nearly killed, by her employers. And each one of them, from beautuful,
gentle Blanche to Chang, the Chinese Goliath, and Chief, the lean, intense
Paiute whose savvy held the group together, to Benny and Nacho and Snap and
Ernie and Burt, were absolute individuals: for good or ill (and it was
usually ill, until Blanche came along), they were genuine, authentic, the
real deal. How could Blanche, a delicate beauty straight out of a cameo, as
well as a nineteen-year-old virgin (oh, hadn't I mentioned that part
before?), have meshed so seamlessly with this gang of hardened street thugs?
Don't ask me. Ask a sociologist. Me, I'm just a private eye who thought
he'd seen it all before, and then he saw....well, that's what I've been
telling you about.
After fainting in the alleyway and being "adopted" by the Dwarves, Blanche
had been unconscious for over eight hours. (The Chief had been right: she
hadn't just fainted; she was in genuine shock.) So the Dwarves attended her
as best they could, which wasn't half-bad, because even in their
mid-twenties, these guys had had a lot of experience with life. Example?
Well, like when the Chief told
Nacho to go to the drugstore and lift some Pedialyte: maybe the Chief
couldn't have explained it to the others, but when he lived on the Rez he'd
seen plenty of cases of dehydration, and shock can cause dehydration; and
he'd seen the Rez medics pouring the sweet, sticky fluid down many parched
throats. One of the Dwarves lifted a new electric blanket for her: they never
plugged it in, but they wrapped her in it, despite the springtime heat
outside. And finally, after they'd been watching her "sleep" for the entire
afternoon and evening, she awakened abruptly, and sat up, and looked at them:
and they were hooked.
Remember me telling you that in her early films, Coyreen the Porno Queen
could roll her eyes at the camera, and make you think she was looking at YOU,
that YOU were the only person she cared about? Well, that was her genius as
an "actress." But Blanche did the same thing whenever she looked at you, in
person: but with Blanche, it wasn't an act. At that moment, you WERE the
only person in her world, whether you were her millionaire boss, or a Mexican
gardener, or one of the Devil's Dwarves. She loved them like brothers on
sight: and they loved her, in a pure and sexless way that astounded each and
every one of them. "First time I see Blanche," Burt once told me, "I says to
myself, Burt, that li'l pink twat's gonna be squirmin' like a fish on Mr.
Johnson before this day's over! But yo, man, once she woke up, and started
talkin,' why, any one of the brothas would've died to keep her safe an'
sound!" Then, of course, Burt's big, brown eyes filled with tears. "Thass
right," he said, choking back a sob, "an' one a' the brothas sure did, you
know what I'm sayin'?"
Yeah, I knew. Anyhow, Blanche was what us Jews call a "mitzvah:" she was a
blessing to the Dwarves, a sudden breath of hope. And they were her friends
and brothers and her zealous protectors. And there was absolutely no fucking
around on the side. The Dwarves had "old ladies" for that; and if a
particular old lady disapproved of Blanche, then there would be a NEW old
lady!
But here again, I need to qualify somewhat, because here comes another of
those little hints of magic. I said Blanche was a virgin, which is true. I
said there was no fucking around, which is true. But there was a little bit
of sex: and it didn't start with the Dwarves, it started with Blanche.
Blanche spent most of the days doing things for the Dwarves, primarily in the
area of making a livable home for them, and cooking for them, and taking care
of their wounds. (She saw this as a way of repaying their kindness, and
pulling her own weight as well.) But sometimes Blanche would even do
"favors" for the Dwarves at night, when they were asleep.....and only when
they were asleep!
Although a virgin, Blanche had, until recently, been working in a very
"promiscuous" environment: the offices of the most successful porn studio in
California. And she was familiar with, so to speak, the company product.
She was also slightly familiar with men; her family in the Midwest included
brothers. So Blanche, who always wanted to do just a little something extra
for the people she loved, began visiting the Dwarves, one at a time, during
the pre-dawn hours when even gangs slept.
She would go to the Dwarf she had selected, usually because he had had a bad
day, or was depressed, or maybe because he'd done something nice that day,
and very quietly kneel on the floor next to his mattress or bedroll. (She
was not nude when she did this; she slept in a beautiful lace nightgown Snap
had shoplifted for her.) When she was absolutely sure that the man was
asleep, she would sit down, lean over, and very carefully slip her fingers
into the waistband of his underwear (if he wore any), and pull it down just
far enough to release his cock and balls. Even if the Dwarf's cock had been
relaxed before Blanche sat down, it was stiff and erect now, although the man
would continue to sleep. Whether she was "visiting" the gigantic Chang, or
Snap, or the Chief, or either of the blacks or Latinos, she would sigh in
contentment and admiration, and lean her head over just far enough to lightly
rest her soft cheek on the man's shaft, holding her hair out of the way with
one hand so as not to tickle him awake. Then, as the man murmured or groaned
or even snored, Blanche would do whatever she felt like doing (although this
was limited by her desire for the man to remain asleep). Sometimes she would
simply stroke her fingertips back and forth, back and forth along his balls
and the underside of his shaft; sometimes she would take the shaft in her
hand (or hands, depending on which Dwarf she was visiting) and slowly,
deliberately pump it; but no matter how she started, she always ended the
same way: watching the man's cock stiffen and swell and throb, feeling his
orgasm rising beneath her fingers, until she would slip the head of his cock
between her blood-red lips and moan, very softly, while his cum erupted into
her tiny mouth. And after swallowing the last drop, she'd dry him off, and
pull his drawers back up (if necessary), and rise quietly and return to her
own mattress, where she would sigh, and dream about the man who would one day
come and carry her off to a new life, and she would hum softly as her long,
white fingers stroked and tweaked all the appropriate places between her
virgin thighs.
Who told me about all this, if the Dwarves were asleep when it happened?
That's not important. Like I said, I did a lot of interviews.
*************************************************************
Of course, I never had the opportunity to interview Coyreen. But using the
various eyewitness accounts and the police reports that some old friends
leaked to me, I was able to reconstruct her movements that night pretty
closely. You know, the night the computer blew the whistle on Blanche, and
Coyreen set out for Watts on her own, after first icing the young security
guard assigned to protect her. The night when Coyreen's egomania was
downsized, and all that remained was mania. The night all Hell broke loose.
After killing the guard and "appropriating" his electric stun-gun, which she
dropped into her bag along with her .32 Beretta, Coyreen hopped into her
little yellow Porsche convertible and laid rubber from Brentwood to the
Sunset Strip, where she scored a Baggie full of coke from a burned-out junkie
who had been one of her leading men a few years earlier, before he learned
that it wasn't the sight of his prick that was moving Coyreen's videos off
the shelves. "Holy shit, thanks, Coyreen," he mumbled as she handed him five
one-hundred-dollar bills in exchange for the Baggie. "Hey, listen, man," he
sniveled, emboldened by her generosity, "what say we get together sometime
and party? Kinda like old times?" After a split-second's irritation,
Coyreen replied sweetly, "Well, honey, why wait? Step over here a little
closer and string that big boy out, and I'll give you something special right
now!"
"Really?" he exclaimed, and lost no time moving up against the driver's side
of the car. Coyreen reached out and unzipped his pants, allowing his
once-famous cock to jump free. "Oh, baby," she purred, "I'd forgotten just
what a big man you really are! Now, close your eyes, babe, and just think
back to our days in the studio together. Remember our big scene in 'Rutting
Rhonda?' " As the man wheezed out a laugh and squeezed his eyes shut, Coyreen
took his prick in her hand and licked it until it was sopping wet. "No fair
peeking, now," she reminded him. Then she reached into her handbag for the
stun-gun, and the next thing he felt was 80,000 volts burning through the
soft skin at the base of his shaft, where Coyreen's saliva had accumulated,
providing a helpful conductor for the electricity. He collapsed without a
word, and as he thrashed uncontrollably in the street, Coyreen checked the
battery level in the device, and primly replaced it in her purse. After
snorting a couple of lines that would have done Tony Montana proud, she
goosed the little car through a screeching U-turn and headed for Watts,
oblivious to the shouts and honking horns that followed her. Her former
co-star lay in the street, his thrashing stilled; his drug-ravaged body had
been unable to survive Coyreen's nasty little surprise.
"'Blanche has made a brand-new start,' has she?" Coyreen snarled, repeating
the message N Synch had delivered to her an hour earlier on the ill-fated
computer. "'Coyreen's got a hooker's heart,' has she?" She shrieked
suddenly with laughter. "We'll see who's got what kinda heart when I hook up
with that little twat! Her and her nigger friends!" Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw the freeway entrance that would have taken her to the
O'Smiles Studios, if that had been her destination. "Kiss my ass, Rosecrans
fuckin' Boulevard!" she screamed. "I'll get back to you later, when I'm
ready to settle up with that cocksucker Miles!" Although she was speeding in
more ways than one, she stopped at an occasional red light to snort directly
from the Baggie; she had dropped her solid-gold razor blade and cloissone
mirror back on Sunset, and didn't have time to search for them. She also
checked and re-checked the clip in the Baretta, and stuffed three extra clips
into the waistband of her already-tight jeans.
At her final red light,after inhaling as much of the coke as she could, she
happened to glance to her left. There in the center lane, stopped
immediately beside her, was a Los Angeles Police cruiser. Its siren and
lights were not howling or flashing; apparently, the young woman officer had
just turned onto the street, and hadn't been pursuing Coyreen at all. She
looked over at Coyreen, began to smile and nod courteously, then spotted the
red eyes, the mottled complexion, and, most damning of all, the white powder
which stretched from the bridge of Coyreen's nose to her bottom lip. "Oh,
God," thought the policewoman, and she reached for her radio to call for
backup. She was about to ask, "Are you alright, miss?" But Coyreen's vision
had merely registered the pretty young black woman's hand reaching for
something, and in a split second, she was pointing the Beretta with both
hands and crying out, "Mind your own fuckin' business, bitch!" Thee shots
directly into the policewoman's face ended what Coyreen had seen as a threat,
and by the time she threw the Porsche into gear and sprang away from the
intersection, the policewoman was dead. A single mother raising a
three-year-old son, she had graduated from the Police Academy only a month
before.
Her hand had never made it to the radio.
***********************************************************************
Whoever called midnight "the witching hour" would have appreciated what
happened next. In the little house on the edge of Watts, six of the Dwarves
sat or sprawled out on the floor in front of an ancient console television,
laughing and jeering at two rather inept fighters stumbling through the
undercard of a pirated pay-per-view boxing extravaganza, as Blanche glided
back and forth between the so-called "living room" and the tiny kitchen,
emptying ashtrays and bringing fresh beers to her friends. "Yo, Blanche,"
called Ernie, patting an empty spot next to him on the floor, "c'mon and sit
with us!" He nodded toward the television, where a bantamweight from Compton
was battering away at a hopelessly-outclassed Mexican. "Homeboy here is
about to put this fuckin' spic away, an' then it'll be the main event!" "Who
you callin' a speec, main?" scolded Benny, slapping Ernie's arm playfully.
"Chico just be gettin' hees second weend!" The other Dwarves laughed, as did
Blanche, who added, "I'll be there in just a minute, guys. Keep a spot warm
for me." A chorus of suggestive, but clearly joking, remarks erupted from
the group, and Blanche laughed again. The only Dwarf missing from the group
was Chang, who had gone out for pizza about a half-hour before.
Amid the general merriment, nobody heard the sound of the little yellow
Porsche coasting to a stop at the curb outside. Nobody except the Chief,
that is, whose ears had been trained from infancy to hear things that others
took for granted. He tensed slightly and glanced at the front door, smoothly
and inconspicuously coming out of his cross-legged posture and sitting up on
the balls of his feet. None of the others noticed, their attention focused
on the television.
A few moments later, there came a knock on the front door. All eyes turned
to the sound; the Dwarves were not accustomed to visitors. "I'll get it,
guys, just enjoy your fight," Blanche called out, setting down an empty
ashtray and wiping her hands on the hips of her tight, white Levis. As she
started for the door, however, the Chief silently rose from the floor and
walked behind her. The other Dwarves had returned to the boxing match; if
Chief wanted to miss the knockout, that was his business.
The Chief close behind, Blanche opened the door. There stood the denim and
ermine-clad form of Coyreen, the employer who Blanche had never actually met,
her eyes red, her nose running, clutching nervously at her handbag. She had
wiped the telltale powder from her face, and now bore the appearance of a
woman who had been crying, and crying hard. "H-hi, Blanche," she said in a
tiny voice, "You don't exactly know me, but I'm Coyreen, and I'm in big
trouble. C-can I come in, please?"
Blanche was confused. In her conversations with the Dwarves, she had
realized that Vitaly Arkhoff had been ordered to kill her on instructions
from her employer; so why would her employer be here now, coming to her for
help? Unless the orders to kill had come from her OTHER employer, Coyreen's
husband, Miles! The Chief's hand grabbed the edge of the door, as if to shut
it in Coyreen's face, but Blanche was Blanche, and she couldn't turn anyone
away. She laid her hand gently on the Chief's arm and whispered, "It's okay,
Chief," then stood aside so that Coyreen could enter.
Coyreen sniffed pitifully and skipped across the threshhold. "Oh, thank you
Blanche," she blurted, "I knew you'd help me!" Then, looking directly at the
Chief, she blurted out, "Why, you don't look like a nig ..... I mean, you
sure don't look like a Dwarf!" She tried to flash a charming smile, but the
Chief's eyes narrowed: he knew a junkie when he saw one, and he didn't like
the looks of this bitch at all.
"Oh, Coyreen," Blanche said quickly, "this is my good, good friend, Chief!
And THOSE" - - - she nodded in the direction of the men sitting on the floor,
who had started looking up from the television - - - "those are my good
friends, the Dwarves! Guys, this is Coyreen! We, um, used to work together!"
None of the Dwarves responded, except to stare. The Chief wasn't the only
one who could sense trouble.
Blanche reached out and put her hands on Coyreen's shoulders. Reluctantly,
the Chief closed the front door. "Now, Coyreen, what's the matter? What's
going on? How can I help you?" Before the Porno Queen could reply, the
Chief added, in a rumbling voice, "And how did you find us?"
Looking nervously at the Chief, Coyreen replied, "Oh! Well, I heard that my
friend Blanche was in Watts with her...friends....and since I have some
friends here, too, I just asked around!" "What friends?" Chief demanded
bluntly. "Oh," replied Coyreen innocently, "well, it was my old friend,
Sister Rosetta Conklin, the leader of the Watts Mass Choir! You know, down
there at the First Church of the Everlasting - - -"
"We know who you mean," Ernie interrupted from his place in front of the
television. Rising to his feet, he scowled at this sluttish newcomer. "How
long you been knowin' Sister Conklin?"
"Oh," Coyreen laughed, "it just seems like forever!" As indeed it would be
for Sister Conklin, who had met Coyreen for the first time that night, told
her where the Devil's Dwarves lived ("Now, don't let the name scare you,
honey, they're good boys at heart!"), and had immediately been sent to her
reward by Coyreen's Beretta.
Suddenly remembering that laughter was inappropriate, she looked back at
Blanche. "Oh, honey," she cried, "it's so awful! You know Vasily Arkhoff,
my chauffeur?" she asked, mispronouncing his name as usual. "Of course you
do! Well, it seems that he and Miles....oh, Blanche, it's so
humiliating!....he and Miles have had this GAY thing going on, and they
decided to KILL me, so they could run away together, and just for practice,
they decided to try to kill you, first! And I don't know how you got away
from Vasily, but now they're both coming after me!" She burst into sobs,
burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Coyreen," gasped Blanche, "that's
horrible! And here I had it all wrong! I thought that you - - -"
Now Snap was on his feet, all 6'3' of him. The former Alabama farmboy began
to approach the little group at the front door. "Hey there, Blanche, it's
none o' my business, but I don't believe a word this bitch is sayin.' Look
at her eyes, man! They look like a pair o' fuckin' bowling balls! She's a
got-damned crackhead!" Blanche turned to rebuke Snap's "cruel" remarks, but
before she could speak, Coyreen's handbag had dropped to the floor, and in
her hands were the Beretta and the stun-gun.
Without an instant's hesitation, she stretched out her arm and placed the
point of the little gun directly between the Chief's black, glaring eyes.
"Stay where you are, cracker," she snarled at Snap, "or you'll be cleaning
Tonto's brains off the wall tomorrow morning!" Cursing under his breath,
Snap stopped. By now the other Dwarves were on their feet, poised to spring
at the woman, but held at bay by the sight of the gun at their leader's head.
Now Blanche looked back at the murderous sex-star. "Coyreen, what are you
doing? Why are you doing this? These are my friends! Shoot me if you want
to, but leave them alone!"
Coyreen squealed a delighted giggle. "Why, Blanche, I don't want to shoot
you," she said cheerfully. Then, her face growing purple with rage, she
snarled, "I want to fucking fry your ass!" With a single, sudden move, she
jammed the stun-gun up against Blanche's soft, white throat, right under the
chin, jabbing the two electrodes in deeply. Then she mashed her thumb down
on the button.
Blanche's eyes grew impossibly wide, and she started to scream, but it came
out as a strangled, rattling sound. As Coyreen held the gadget in place,
discharging more and more electricity, Blanche's body vibrated and froze and
the flesh on her neck began to sizzle. The Chief let loose a savage snarl
and slapped Coyreen's gun hand downward, away from his face; the Beretta
discharged directly into his gut. He gasped wetly and fell to the floor,
rolling in agony. Finally, mercifully, the stun-gun stopped, exhausted, and
Blanche slumped to the floor, falling almost cheek-to-cheek with the Chief,
who keened and cursed in fury and pain. "You fucking bitch!" screamed Snap,
and launched himself toward the sweating, wild Coyreen. "Oh, you want some
too, you redneck shit?" she snarled, and fired wildly at him. The bullet
took his left leg out from under him, and he crashed to the hardwood floor.
The other Dwarves were moving now, several with switchblades or butterfly
knives in their hands, but the group's supply of firearms was in an adjoining
room. "Come on, you trash!" Coyreen screamed. "I got plenty more!" When the
group hesitated, she cackled and whirled, throwing open the front door and
lunging out into the night air.
Running to the little convertible, diving in without even opening the door,
she fumbled for her keys and finally jammed them into the slot, firing up the
Porche's engine once again. Most of the Dwarves remained behind, trying
desperately to help Blanche, the Chief, and Snap, but one stuck his head out
the door, glanced down the street, and screamed, "Chang! Stop her! She
killed Blanche!"
The mammoth Chinaman dropped the armload of pizza cartons he had been
carrying, and with an astonishing display of speed for such a giant, he
crossed the street in two loping strides. As Coyreen began to pull away from
the curb, he leaped over the back of the car, and grabbed hold of the
passenger's headrest next to Coyreen, his body completely extended, his feet
hanging off the edge of the trunk.
And as the sirens announced the approach of the Emergency Trauma Units to
take care of Blanche and Chief and Snap, Coyreen floored the gas pedal, and
the little yellow convertible went screeching out of Watts, with Chang, the
biggest Dwarf of all, holding on for dear life...and even dearer revenge.
NEXT:
DEATH OF A QUEEN
(If you enjoyed this story, write!
Saynesberry@hushmail.com)
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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