Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Sunday, June 27, 2004

Soul Man



Thomas Foth

Soul Man

He bites his nails nervously as sweat forms above his quivering lip. He secretly watches her from the bathroom across the hallway as she lies in her booth, lovingly rubbing the sides of her pregnant belly, looking much too young to be in such a state. She looks as innocent as the Virgin Mary pregnant with baby Jesus--a sign from God that he is a sick bastard. He tries ignoring his self-deprecating thoughts, telling him to go home and pray . . . pray for forgiveness. But he is a weak man; he has the will power of an indolent child. And so he finds himself here, searching for some kind of peace . . . the kind the mistresses said they couldn't give. Maybe tonight will be different; maybe this Madonna will assuage his pain.

The janitor walks into the bathroom, wheeling a mop bucket.

"You done in here?" the janitor barks.

Startled, the man turns on the faucet and starts washing his hands. "Yeah, just finishing up," he says.

The janitor stands in silence, resting on his mop. His face impassive.

"Thanks," the man says as he leaves the bathroom.

The Madonna's eyes are resting now and so he ducks into her booth, hoping she won't notice.

He pauses not wanting to wake her, but finally picks up the phone. "Hi . . . you awake?"

She struggles to sit up. "Yeah, just relaxing a little. It's been slow."

"So, how does this thing work?'

"20 for full nudity, 40 for masturbation, 60 for toys."

"What if I just want to talk?"

"Just talking starts at 40."

"40 for just talking?"

"Yeah, talking's considered role playing and role playing's considered fantasy and fantasy shows start at 40."

"Oh, I get it." He nods and puts two 20's into the bill acceptor not wanting to upset her.

The shade lifts, revealing a beautiful young pregnant woman, wearing a half-shirt and the hint of pink panties beneath a large belly with a flower painted on it.

"Hi, sexy," she says, twirling a piece of her long brown hair. "What's your name?"

"Bob," he says, nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Bob. My name's Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose."

"You want me to take something off first, Bob?"

"No, that's OK. You can keep your clothes on if you'd like. That's not what I'm here for."

She picks up a lighter and a pack of American Spirits. "Pregnant women not your thing, Bob?"

"Oh, no . . . of course not. Pregnant women are the most beautiful creatures on earth."

"I'd have to agree with you. I actually do better here when I'm pregnant," she says, bringing a cigarette to her lips. "You mind if I smoke?"

He hesitates. "No, go right ahead."

"Thanks," she says, lighting up. "You're probably thinking I shouldn't be smoking in my condition."

"Well . . . I'm not one to tell a woman what to do with her body."

Her forehead wrinkles. "I know it's not good. Believe me, I've tried to quit," she says, exhaling. "But I'm not big on will power . . . especially these days."

"Yeah, I can relate."

"So, what did you want to talk about, baby?"

"Well . . . it might sound a little weird."

She laughs. "I specialize in weird."

"Well . . . I have this fantasy and no one seems to want anything to do with it."

Her brow lifts. She leans closer to the glass. "R e a l l y . . . "

He laughs. "Really."

"Tell me . . . I'll do it. Whatever it is," she says, smiling.

"I dunno . . . you seem like a nice girl. I don't want to trouble you in your state."

"What . . . you into kids, animals or somethin' ?"

His face scrunches up. "No, nothing like that."

"Cause those are the only fantasies I don't do. Oh . . . I don't poop or pee either, sorry."

He clears his throat, leans closer to the glass, and whispers. "I want you to take my soul."

Her smile fades. "Take your soul?"

"Yeah, take my soul."

"You want me to be the devil? I mean, I'm no Christian or anything, but . . ."

"No, nothing like that. I just want to be totally submissive to you. I want you to have my soul."

"Maybe you should see a dominatrix for this. I mean, I've never took anyone's soul before. I dunno . . ."

"Oh, I'm sure you can do it. I have faith in you."

She smiles weakly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah!" he says, enthusiastically. "Besides, I do most of the talking. I have it written down on a piece of paper." He reaches into his pocket.

She bites down on her lip. "OK . . ."

"Let's see here," he says, trying to make out the words on the wrinkled paper. "Oh, Goddess, I stand before you in all your beauty and greatness as your servant. What ever your wish is, I shall grant it."

He holds up the paper for her to read her lines.

She squints, trying to make out the words. "Take off your clothes, slave."

"Yes, Goddess, whatever you desire." He holds the paper between his teeth and starts taking off his clothes until he is standing bare naked. He holds the paper up to the window.

She smiles as she reads the next line. "I want you to touch yourself."

"Like this?' he asks, touching his penis lightly.

She looks away from the paper, improvising instead. "No, harder!"

He starts stroking his penis faster. "Does this please you, Goddess?'

"No! I want you to squeeze it tighter."

He drops the paper, leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. His grip tightens around his penis as his hand strokes faster and faster. "How does this please you, Goddess?" he asks, gasping.

"I want your soul, slave. When you come your soul will be mine. I want you to come now!''

His eyes burn into her's. The veins in his neck and forearm pop; his face turns bright red. "I am your servant, Goddess. I give you my soul," he cries, coming into a tissue.

All is silent.

He throws the tissue into the garbage and grabs another one to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Is that it, baby?" she asks.

"Yeah," he smiles, wearily. "Thank you. That was wonderful"

"I'm glad I could help."

He starts gathering his things. "Hey, good luck with the baby."

"Thanks . . . but I'm not keeping it."

"Really?"

"No, I'm giving it up for adoption. I'm too young for kids. Couldn't get an abortion though."

"No?"

"No, I kept wondering about the soul. Some people say they have one right away."

He pauses. "Sounds reasonable."

"Hey, I want you to know if you decide you want your soul back, I totally understand. I'm here Monday through Thursday during the evenings."

He bites his thumbnail. "And then you can take it again?"



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