Paula Bomer - Inside Madeleine

She put her hand on it. Stroked it gently stroked it hard. She put her mouth on it, licking it. Jesus, girl. Oh my God. Grunt. Moan. She put it all the way back in her big lipsticky mouth. Tight hands in her hair, sweating palms. It never took long. They were powerless. Sometimes they pulled her up and put it in her, pulling her jeans down over her round ass, sticking it straight in without a finger to her cunt. Just pushing it right in there and sliding it in like butter because she was always wet and she was always ready.

She fucked all the rink guards’ friends. Joey, John, Matt, Bobby. All the high school freaks. Long-haired, combs in back pockets, pot in the glove compartment, AC/DC, Black Sabbath on the radio. She fucked them so good, fucked them better than the high school girls — fuckmonster Maddy, only a little junior high student. They told the other high schoolers. They told the football team, they told the basketball players, they told all the boys who needed to fuck.

She walked around her junior high, her head in the clouds, her thoughts on the weekends. The boys her age were small, lifeless things. Skinny, nervous, looking at her large, proud chest, hands in their pockets, playing with themselves. Sometimes, the ballsy ones, would say, hey Maddy I hear you give good head. She’d look straight at them, some younger brother of some boy she fucked, and they’d run away laughing, turning their heads back to look at her as they ran away, laughing at her. Pussies, she’d snear. Little fucking momma’s boys. No one’s ever touched your little cock. If you have one. Sometimes they’d come back, chins up, moist upper lip, saying, oh yeah. You want to see my cock? Their hands in their pants. She’d say, whip it out then why dontcha. Little faggot boy. Your fucking baby cock, I’ll laugh right at it. And they’re in their pants now groping around all nervous too scared to whip it out. And they say you whore, you fucking whore, pants unzipped, hand on their hard neglected little cock, too scared to show it and she’d say your mother’s a whore boy, that’s why you were born.

When she graduated from junior high most of the high school boys she fucked had graduated from the high school. So she roamed the halls of the new, bigger school, coolly, mostly anonymous. The boys sometimes still came by the rink looking for her. Their cars bright red, engines loud as shit. But she grew tired of them, she started to see the lines on their foreheads and the pathetic look in their eyes. No longer in high school they moved out of their homes. Some moved in with their girlfriends and got married and stopped coming by now that they had pussy waiting for them at home. They had stupid jobs at garage stations and plants and factories and record stores. Their eyes grew duller and their brows wrinkly so she thought, no more of these old guys. The ones who didn’t marry moved in with each other, Tim and Steve and whoever and their apartments stunk of rotten garbage and stale beer in the filthy carpeting. Sitting around on beat-up couches and La-Z-Boys, their heads hanging low, turtlelike, crunched over, sitting around watching the same TV shows. They’d call her on the phone, saying Maddy why don’t you come over here and she did a few times but she liked them better when they were in high school. They had more confidence then.

So she walked around that high school with a shadow about her but hardly anyone there was anyone she’d fucked. People looked at her, curious, having heard some thing or another, but they hadn’t experienced her. She picked and chose. She wore red high heels and tight jeans and backcombed her hair. She scared them all. She chewed gum loudly in class, she got great grades and she knew she could fuck whoever she wanted and knew she’d fuck them better than they’d ever been fucked before. So she fucked the ones she chose to fuck. She fucked the ones who deserved her shit. And then she fucked Mark.

5

He smiled at her in the hallway. His lips together, looking straight into her eyes, which very few people did. Most everyone looked at her sideways, including her teachers. Then he walked up to her while she was at her locker, so quietly she didn’t hear him and tapped her on the shoulder. He was taller than he appeared, narrow and slightly slouched. He asked her if she wanted to get coffee after school and she smiled at him wryly. Why wasn’t he fidgeting? Why wasn’t he looking away, embarrassed? She said no and laughed in his face, but she watched him walk away, noticing his long limbs and his loping gate.

A week later he came up to her again.

Well, look who’s here again, she said sarcastically.

You should have coffee with me.

I don’t drink coffee.

You can order something else.

Coffee doesn’t get me in the mood.

He looked down at her breasts, tightly encased in an AC/DC T-shirt. He looked up at her and smiled.

I’ll buy you a beer, then.

Oooh, think you can handle that, she said and cocked her hips out.

Sure. I’ll pick you up here after classes, he said, pushing his hands in his pockets.

Madeleine shut her locker, saying, sure thing, big boy.

He waved to her like a child as he sauntered off down the crowded hallway.

After school, Maddy packed her books and started off to the side entrance. Mark came running after her.

Hey, wait up. You said I could buy you a beer.

Don’t believe everything you hear.

Ah, come on. Let me buy you a beer. Please.

He put his hand on her shoulder and gripped it tightly.

Get your fucking hand off me.

Okay, okay Mark said, waving his hands in surrender, I’m sorry.

What kind of beer are you going to buy?

Any kind you want.

Do you have any weed?

Sure. I’ve got great weed.

You’ve got great weed? I find that hard to believe.

I’ve got the best weed. California Sensemilia.

No shit? I’m there, she said, pulling him toward the exit, I want to see this great weed.

The weed was great. He pulled a plastic bag of light green, red-haired, sticky buds out of the glove compartment of his Chevy Nova. They both sat in the front seat and locked the doors and cracked their windows open. Madeleine was impressed.

I didn’t know smart guys like you smoked killer pot.

What do you mean?

You hang out in the computer room all the time. I didn’t know you computer nerds smoked weed.

We smoke the best weed there is. All your freak friends smoke shitty stuff.

Fuck you man, they smoke good stuff.

Mark expertly rolled a tight joint, licking the paper with flicks of his tongue.

Bullshit. They smoke homegrown, leafy stuff that gives you a headache.

How do you fucking know what they smoke?

I’ve gotten stoned with them before. With that crowd.

She laughed at him, saying, I doubt that.

I have.

He lit the joint and took a huge drag and passed it to her.

They’d kick your ass before they’d let you get stoned with them.

Not true, he said, his voice muffled from holding in the pot smoke. The car filled up with a sweet, strong odor as he slowly exhaled. He smiled and coughed a little and said, you’re just too busy giving head so you don’t notice anything.

I keep my eyes open when I give head. I notice everything.

Well, I’ve gotten stoned with your stupid freak friends and their pot sucks, he said, smiling confidently at her, and you’ve never noticed that.

The pot made them giggly. Madeleine felt especially giggly because she was with a nerd. His hair was short and he wore brown loafers. They drove to a liquor store and Mark went in and bought a six pack of Budweiser. They drove to Howard Park and sat parked facing the St. Joe River, drinking beer. She worried that they would run into someone she knew and she didn’t want to be seen with him. After they finished the six pack, she put her hand on his crotch. He wasn’t hard.