Talking Dirty

I work in a down and out neighborhood much like the one in this story. The characters too are composites of real people I have known and worked with there. Otherwise of course this is a work of fiction. If you happen to resemble some of these characters it is not only coincidental but a sign you should seriously look at getting some help! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do reading it. Comments and crits welcome.

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Debra was the love of my life. Even though we had been partners for over ten years she still fascinated me. It wasn’t that she was ravishingly beautiful or anything else purely physical. It was her mind, her bubbling personality, and her wonderful imagination that captivated me and kept me pathetically grateful for every day she was in my life.

Mind you, Debra was not hard to look at. She was incredibly cute with bright sparkling brown eyes, a compact girlish figure, short wavy dark hair and a huge impish grin that would just light up my soul every time she flashed it. She had looks, but she had that certain something extra that made you look deeper. She had charisma.

Depression never draped itself over Debra’s day the way it sometimes did mine. I could be moody and taciturn and sometimes took my job as a social worker home with me. I worked with some of the most dysfunctional people in the city’s downtown core and at times I felt their pain too acutely. The dark cloud of their mental illnesses, addictions and other disabilities sometimes settled over our house – until Debra caught sight of it that is.

“David, have you brought those poor crippled people home again? I mean I like old One-Tooth Sally and Hector the Heaver, but did you have to bring them over for dinner?” she would ask me looking all serious. I would try to stay glum but she would crack me up with that ironic mix of innocent concern and mouthful of street nicks. God, she was so damn sweet and yet at times more streetwise than me– a similar irony that was a large part of what made our sex life so fascinatingly debauched at times.

In the bedroom Debra became completely engrossed in her sexual pleasure, often having rapid fire, machine gun like orgasms – 20 or even 30 in a night. She had an active fantasy life and no inhibitions now about sharing it with me. Debra loved talking dirty!

I had always been out there about my stuff but Debra took some time to feel comfortable with her own unique Debra-brands of kinkiness. When she finally got there though I had a hell of a time keeping up! She discovered in herself a very strong but hitherto latent bi-sexual streak, which took her completely by surprise, but voyeuristic inclinations she knew had always been there. Debra loved to watch too.

Outside the bedroom Debra was every inch the dedicated young primary school teacher she so loved being. A four-letter word would not DARE enter her mouth before it would die of shame!

Paradoxically, in the bedroom Debra loved sex in a very intense way. She would relish my hardcore descriptions of sex with her or others (women OR men. I had been through my own bi-curious period) while she rubbed herself furiously against my thigh, used her hand on herself or had me get her off with one of several dildoes and vibrators we had collected. She especially enjoyed my whispered, urgent sexual commands while I fucked her senseless or, at least I confess, for as long as I could hold back.

In turn, often after PTA meetings for example, Debra would regale me with a fantasy (one she had yet to carry out) involving a mother that night she had developed an insatiable letch for, or a father’s cum she wanted to suck right up through his balls! Every teacher fantasy I’d ever had as a horny young elementary and high school student we role played together. She would be the horny young instructress tempting me into the wicked ways of the adult world while I learned (among many other things) of that special way to pass her very exacting oral exams!

One day in our relationship, though, I especially needed her warmth more than her heat. I lost two of my favorite characters from the ‘Hood’. ‘Misogyny’ Lou McAllister (as we called him) was an old, wet-brained little Scotsman with a hate on for all things female, and Mistress Donna “Domina” Wagner (or “Viagra” as we called her), who hated, among many other things, Misogyny Lou McAllister.

Debra liked Lou a lot too. When he set eyes on her for the first time in my office waiting room he shuffled up to her sputtering and cursing, looked her up and down and announced his verdict: “Aye,” he burred in his crusty Glaswegian accent, “an’ yon’s a cheesy lookin’ little cunt!” So saying the skinny little troll turned smartly on his heels, brushed past us and shuffled off into the blue. Debra collapsed on a chair and didn’t stop laughing until we got home some two hours later.

Mistress Domina had her charms too but she was a little harder to take. She stood a good six feet tall and weighed in at at least 250 pounds. She’d worked the streets for years and was known to be rough trade, a raging fetish queen all black leather and attitude, which some guys liked - at least those who lived long enough to tell about it. Alas, Misogyny Lou was not one of them.

As was his wont Lou was out after dark one night with a skin-full of cheap wine and Mistress Domina was at her usual corner barking at the traffic that cruised by ogling her. Lou, in his usual wine soaked way, was staggering along and cursing every working girl he met – “Arrrrgh, ye poxy auld whores! Come an’ blow a tune on me bagpipe!” or “ ‘ere lass! Coom an’ lick me sporran!” he’d cackle at them grabbing at his crotch.

The girls all took him in stride that night except for Domina Viagra, of course, who had half a fifth of vodka in her along with a giant hair up her ass about something, as usual.

“Oh, it’s you, you skuzzy little shit,” she snarled as Misogyny Lou approached her muttering and sputtering.

“Heheheh….” Lou is reported to have chuckled, “an’ ain’t yer just the great fat mother-fookin’ ‘ore a Baby-lon all dress’d oop like some cheap clap doctor’s clerk…” he chortled, when a 12 pound purse full of ball stretchers, a Bowie knife, nipple clamps and half a fifth of vodka connected with the side of his head, instantly extinguishing Lou’s remaining six brain cells.

Misogyny Lou McAllister, age 70, late of Glasgow, Scotland by way of at least eight different Skid Rows, had lipped off his last Lady of the Lamp-Light and gone on to that great Hooker Stroll in the Sky. It was the end of an era.

It was the end of Mistress Domina’s time on the street too. As Donna “Domina Viagra” Wagner was led away admiring the cuffs they’d trussed her up with, the arresting officers were looking down at Lou’s frail, cooling corpse trying desperately hard not to laugh out loud. “It was self-defense!” she wailed as she was led away, “The little shit tried to rape me!”

Debra was there for me that night, sharing my grief over Lou and suggesting that Mistress Domina, being openly and extravagantly bi-sexual, far from doing hard time would soon instead have a whole prison full of “subbies” to “dom” for the rest of her life. I couldn’t help but see Debra’s point and I felt somewhat better.

Little did I know but this talk about sex and prisons was destined eventually to take our relationship to a whole new level. Debra’s fantasies began taking on a ‘penal’ bent so to speak.