“I Wanna Lick You Up and Down. Make You Sweat.” #ReedsyBewitched

Trigger Warning:

This short story contains mature themes, self-harm/suicide, brief strong language, gore, and sexual content.

“I Wanna Lick You Up and Down. Make You Sweat.” 

By Tucker Bradley Sloan

Do you believe in love at first sight? First touch? First flirtation? I do now.

“Don’t you dare!” I yelled meanly at my favorite creature- our sweet, black cat who was playing in the entryway causing the doors to open and shut letting rain blow into the atrium. She was eyeing the ashtray trashcan. She wanted to tip it over and see what was inside.

Then a woman wearing a black dress, stilettos, and a black jacket ran in dripping wet. She had paid the night before. We were cash only. No ID necessary. Just give us your cash. Please be sure to sign our guest book on your way out to let us know about your stay. That was our attitude. That was our way. I had been cleaning rooms when she checked in with my coworker, but I got a glimpse of her before she entered her room. We locked eyes. She did not look away from me as she carefully entered her key into the lock. Then she was gone into her room.

I’ll never forget her blood red lipstick. I wanted it all over my body. I resisted touching myself as she leaned in and said, 

“Cute cat, and cute you. I wanna lick you up and down. Make you sweat.” 

Her perfume, that smell, I wanted it rubbed into my skin as well. 

Then that cat ran off into the rain through those irritating, sliding, glass doors. The woman took off after her. Out into the dark. Out into the rain. Out to never be seen again. It was like a cat chasing a mouse, but she chased the cat into a storm drain at 3am. She. I wish I had caught her name. So, she it shall be.

No one had ever said such flattering and unnerving things to me. In two sentences, she had made me sweat. I tried to ignore it, but the sweat got in my eyes as it dripped down my forehead. I quivered overcome with intoxication. I was sweating through my uniform, and in other areas I wish not to discuss. Ahead of me was this beauty. She wanted me, and I wanted her, but I was on the clock. I was all alone for a double shift. I wish I had followed her that night. Out of the hotel. Out to the storm drain. Out to save them from imminent death. Yes, she and the cat both died that night. The cat got caught up in a whirlpool in the drain. She spun around so fast, and kept hitting her head on the concrete sides, that she died within moments. She did not have a name, either. So, she will have to do. It was the rushing water that did it once her poor, sweet, black head was injured. It filled her throat and airways, and her last thought was- Why did that bitch chase me into the storm drain?

She, the cat, washed away into the abyss, and she, the woman, felt guilty for this. Was it her fault? The poor, sweet, black cat’s death? No. It could not have been, but we shall never know for sure. The sweetest cat on earth was now gone from me and my hotel guests who truly appreciated her sweet company.

Death comes to us without warning. You could die today after reading this. She died that night and was found by a hillside. I did not want to tell you this, but she was cut in half. The sweet, black beauty was cut in half! Her innards strewn out all over an acre as if some wild beast had gutted her, and enjoyed it. Maybe she was not cut. Maybe it was an animal getting back at her for drowning its poor friend- the sweet, black cat. Maybe not. 

The coroner spoke:

“Cause of death unknown.” 

What the fuck? She wanted me, and I wanted her, but, now, I needed answers. Unknown? Umm, Mr. Coroner, sir, split in two, chomped on by something,  innards spread out like red, chunky vomit, eyes pushed in, an unrecognizable corpse that the authorities wanted to be recognized. Again, what the fuck? If only I had ignored my duty and taken her in my arms. But I did not. If only. 

The photo of her covered-up body made the front page with the headline:

“ARE YOU MISSING A PERSON?”

It was a hit. Newspaper stands sold out within minutes. Who was this girl? And what was she doing out and about during the witching hour?

As the whole town was fascinated- I was grieving. I wanted her back. I wanted her to do what she had said- lick me up and down- take my breath away- make me sweat. 

At least she was found. Better late than never. I missed my black beauty, and I wished I had clocked out. 

When I went to clean out her room for the next guest, I found that she had left behind a poem written on our letterhead. A touching, short, but beautiful poem. 

“The sky is beautiful and so is he.

I like the way he looked at me. 

I made him sweat, but I wanted to do more. 

I would let him have me here on the floor.”

Right away, I stuck the poem in my pocket. I treasured it like a granny treasures a locket. I wanted to know more. I needed to know more. I did not know her name. I missed her, and the papers did not know her name. Somebody else out there somewhere missed her, too. Somebody wanted her back. But who?

A corpse in the morgue just waiting to be claimed, my beauty was in pieces. Yet no one knew her name. A ghost passing by? The glimmer of my eye? Who the hell was she? I needed to know, but what could I, a poor clerk, do?

I took a deep breath, and slit both my wrists. I was rather violent about it. I cried. How could she have stolen my heart in such a way? In so little time? While I was at work? How did she do this? I climbed upon her bed and held her pillow tight. I found a long strand of her black hair, and I cried until my soul left my body.

At 3am, the dreaded witching hour, my coworker found me dead. Covered in blood. The sheets were all colored red.

They put me away. I was quickly buried, and I never got to meet the girl I wanted to marry. She had impressed me so. The way she towered over me, and made me nervous. She sent butterflies straight to my stomach, and had turned me on so badly that I knew I would never recover. Why, oh why, did she leave me that night? Damn cat. That damned cat!

In the beyond, our souls crossed paths.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

“I don’t think so, but I wanna lick you up and down. Make you sweat.” She said.