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Message-ID: <36615asstr$1022317803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: qickless@fastmail.fm
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Subject: {ASSM} Candyman
Date: Sat, 25 May 2002 05:10:03 -0400
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  qickless@fastmail.fm

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<1st attachment, "candyman.txt" begin>


-
Standard Disclaimer

This story contains sex, and if you are a minor, or are offended
by such things, you should delete this file immediately and 
get lost.

-

*This story is not good jacking off material, go elsewhere*
I would appreciate comments.

--


Candyman
by Qickless(qickless@fastmail.fm)

I've always been good with children, perhaps that's why I grew up 
to do what my grandpa did, trawling my brightly colored hand-van 
with me everywhere I go and drawing crowds of prancing children 
who trade a dollar for delight. Now as I rest under a shaky oak 
branch and the sun does its best to get at me, I watch them kick out 
of the yellow bus, often both feet landing at the same time and then 
prance away, or towards me, some boldly brandishing a buck, 
others shyly handing out a paper note, and smiling or rolling their 
eyes as I joke and talk with them.

"Mister? Can I have a candy?"

I look down, my head bending down much less than usual. She's 
almost up to my waist, but aside from the smile on her face, she's 
all grownup. I take the jumble of coins; she's ten cents short, but 
her smile makes up for that.

I smile back and hand her the treat, and start pulling away towards 
the bus.

"Where's the old man?"

I turn back, surprised.

"You knew my grandfather?"

"So he's your grandpa! You know, you kinda look a lot like him, 
where is he anyway," and then, "he's not sick, is he?"

"He died last week."

"Oh! I'm sorry." A stray tear escapes the rapid blinking of her 
bright blue eyes. She stood there, crying silently.

I pulled my hands around her and hug her to me, her shivering body 
silently shaking as quiet tears fall all around us.

"It's okay, people grow up and die all the time you know? My 
grandfather was old, god know how old he, but people can't 
live forever you know?"

Her bright clear blue eyes bite into mine, "Good people live 
forever. That's what my grandpa used to say. Good people are 
blessed by God, and they go to heaven where the live forever, they 
live forever..." she mumbled, soft tears soaking my shirt. I shush 
and hush her, she clings to me, letting me go only after I've 
assured her all grandpas, and especially candyman grandpas live 
forrrrever in heaven.

Her sobs slowly settle down as she stretches her hands away from 
me.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay to cry you know?"

"Uh-uh?"

"It's okay to cry; everybody cries, but everybody laughs too, see?" 
I pointed to the loud children by the yellow bus.

I take out the biggest ice-cream I have and give it to her. Her face 
immediately brightens up, she takes a lick at the sweet chocolate, 
and then some more, the tears still drying on her face as she looks 
up at me and smiles.

"You know, you make a good candyman."

Then she trotted away as many before her, and millions after her as 
my candy-van grew into a truck, and then a nice, good pretty shop 
and then lots of shops until now when I take my ten bucks from inside 
a closed building of glass and concrete and a view to kill for. But I 
never forgot her, one sharp, distinct thread in the confused weaves 
of my mind, a single sword that fought ever so often to come out 
and raze down everything I've become.

I've always been good with children, but never with people. The 
world loved me enough to give me three divorces and hated me 
enough for four marriages, every single one of them a mockery of 
meaningless words. I've learned to shun people away; I think my 
long-nosed secretary is afraid  of me, her white skin trembles as 
she hands me the black envelope, and I take it in my black hands 
and hand her the white cup of tea, which she takes away, closing 
the door behind her softly.

Another day of sifting through files later, my car drops me at the 
park. I walk through children laughing and playing, sliding down 
the huge whirl-slide and splashing down in the water, throwing 
mud at each other, some crying as they fall down and cut 
something, others laughing at the crying. I find a noisy spot to sit 
down and soak in the sounds around me -

--

"Now Jill, how many times I've told you not to play in the water, 
you're going to ruin..."

--

"Jacob! Come back here! Damn that boy, can't remain still for one 
damn moment. Jacob!"

--

"That's mine I found it."

"But I saw it first!"

"But I found it and my mama says people who find things keep 
them, keepers finders, so there!"

--

"Jon! Stop it now, my mother will see...please."

I opened my eyes and I searched for that girl's voice, my eyes 
scanning the people around me. I see them, a little way off the 
park, under a good plump of ripe mulberry trees so that only I can 
see them, somebody a little away to the left or right would miss 
them altogether.

I was looking at a girl and a boy pawing at each other. The girl 
seemed hesitant, but not unresponsive, but the boy was going 
ahead full steam, his lips found hers and locked it to him, his hands 
awkwardly clawing at her chest and hugging her, all the while 
smooching her face everywhere.

"Jon! Where are you? Come back here this instant!"

The loud cry shakes them up. The boy stands up startled, and 
almost falls down. The girl starts laughing, but quickly covers her 
flushed mouth with both of her hands.

"Now Jenny, you're not to tell anyone we did this okay? Not even 
Martha, not even Rosy okay? Promise, or I'll never see you 
again..." the boy whispers anxiously, wiping the dirt from his 
pants and trying to stand up under the long branches.

"But Jon, I tell Martha everything, and she tells me everything and 
they won't tell on us, I'll make them cross their heart..." the 
girl: something very much like puzzlement on her face.

"Jenny, are you stupid or what? If someone knows what we're 
doing, they'll ground me for life, and you too - don't tell me I 
didn't tell you when it happens."

"But..."

"Listen to me, you bitch. If you tell one word of this to anybody, 
I'll break you apart, bone by bone, you hear?"

His mother calls him again. He ran away, shaking up the branches 
around him as he bumps his head a few times. The girl sat back on 
the soft, cool grass, her skirt pulled up to her knees, crying, small 
confused tears dripping onto her cheeks, and the dry earth below.

I turn away, sick to my stomach. I crack open my cell and call back 
my car. Walking out of the park with my hands clenched, I have to 
consciously order them to relax, the sweat on my face glistening, 
and a solitary vein throbbing deep in my forehead.

I stop the car behind a familiar rusty old alley, walk into a dim 
room, and inspect the goods before me. Sheer black stockings, 
many pointed chins, a low-cut excuse for a blouse and too many 
high-heels.

"Who has real blue eyes here?" I ask, my voice gruff. Somebody 
steps forward and I don't bother with the face, everybody fucks the 
same way anyway.

"Get in the car."

I make her follow me into the glass elevator, and into my room. I 
turn back and look at her; she reeks off the street, her clothes glitter 
unnaturally in the bright light.

"Get in the shower, don't bother with your clothes on the way out."

I churn down the lights, strip a cigarette from somewhere, peel my 
clothes away and settle in between the covers, dull gray smoke 
wafting over the room. I switch on the TV and watch as bright 
images reflect off my spectacles; as always the smoke makes me a 
little drowsy.

I hear the bath open, she comes and climbs in beside me. I keep my 
eyes on the TV, watching as one color replaces another, bright 
fading into dark and back again until something fades up and up 
the screen. I squint and see some credits rising on the glass.

I turn to her side and see her sleeping, her lithe, tiny body resting, 
her face hugging the pillow - she looks beautiful...almost.

I pinch her awake and stifle her scream with an angry mouth,

"Who told you to sleep on me, bitch?"

I roll over her until I'm on top of her, my weight crushing into her, 
driving all the air out of her. She gasps and I pinch her nipples 
again, but before she can get enough air inside her to scream, I 
drive my hard cock deep inside her in a swift, razor-edged motion 
that drives the skin around my prick taut and almost bends it twice 
as it begins thrusting in her. I keep a hand on her mouth and begin 
to fuck her in earnest, pushing and pulling at her nipples with my 
other hand, nipping at her clit when a small scream escapes her mouth, 
and driving cruel words into her, "Bitch!" "Slut!" "Bimbo!" 
"Whore!"... I feel the need rise up in me and I start beating her, 
fisting her breasts and slapping her face, until something breaks 
inside me, something which tells me I can try one last time. I pull 
out of her, my prick still throbbing erect and I gently kiss her eyes, 
licking her salty tears away from her face, and then tenderly 
kissing her eyes, her nose, her ears, her hair, and a slow soundless 
plea escapes me as I kiss her lips, gently, just touching her lips 
with mine. For an instant she is surprised, and I can feel the girl 
deep inside her trying hard to come out and kiss me back, but then 
years of training kick in; she grabs my head in her hands as her 
cruel tongue invades my mouth, sucking and groping mine.

I push myself off her, repulsed, hated, and the bed falls away from 
me as I grab something in my hand and hurl it at the glass screen, 
the bright images breaking up into a dozen fragments. I smash a 
vase, I knock down all the paintings, I kick and scream at the tiny 
room around me, until a sweet blackness envelopes me, drowning 
everything out. 

I settle down into a corner, crying out tears that have been held 
back by years of stress, sweat and strain, tears forced upon me by 
the world around me, tears hoarded up from years of black and white. 
I sob, holding my head in my arms, my legs folded up all around me.

I can feel her near, she nestles into my shoulder and hugs me, her 
tiny hands barely enclosing my chest, rocking me to and fro.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" she whispers.

"Uh-uh..."

"It's okay to cry, everybody cries, but everybody laughs too, see?" 
She points a finger to a stupid stuffed bear on the wall, its teeth 
gaping.

"That's not laughing."

"It is."

"Is not."

"Is too..."

She smiles, I smile, I look down at the bruises on her body still red 
and burning and I hug her to me, crying afresh, my tears falling 
down on her naked back, washing away her blood, washing away 
my pain.

For the first time in a long while, I can feel the candygirl near me.





<1st attachment end>


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