[Del]'s Diary

ENTRY THIRTY-FOUR

Another dream. I am Sugar again and she is rolling up her black stockings at the edge of an embroidered and beaded black bedspread. The wall in front of her is a Spanish red. A velvet painting of a matador and bull hangs on it.

A cigarette hangs from Sugar’s bottom lip. “Last guy?” she sighs.

Hunter’s tinny voice in our ear says, “Last guy, I promise...For the night, of course.” For a moment, I think I am in Hunter’s body, hearing his voice in my head but realize this is impossible as I am wearing Sugar's body. I wish to crane my neck to look and find where the voice is coming from but Sugar has no such ideas. The hotel? room seems empty. In the reflection in the long mirror over the dresser, I can only see two wooden boomerang chairs and no one is sitting in either of them.

Sugar reaches around the back of our dress and tries to clasp the zipper hanging low but too high from the waist. She sighs again. This time in exasperation.

“Leave it,” Hunter’s voice says in her ear, “It’ll be down soon enough.” I realize that the voice is only coming from inside my left ear and decide there must be a microphone implanted there.

Sugar replies, “Getting sloppy.”

Hunter laughs cruelly, “I’m certain he could care less about that.”

Sugar snaps her head up and glares at the mirror in front of it, boring holes through it with her eyes. If looks could kill.

The voice “bahahaha’s”.

Sugar stands up and turns around to make the bed when there is a knock at the door.

“Send ‘em in,” Sugar says.

The door swings open. A burly tall man in a dark suit holds it open for a thin man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a trim suit. The thin man hesitates at the door. He looks young but feeble, with pockmarked skin.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Sugar purrs as she beckons him to take a step forward.

The thin man replies, “You know, I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what? We ain’t doing a thing at all.”

“Well, I guess we aren’t...a-a-at-at the moment, anyway.” He takes an awkward step in, and the burly man closes the door. The thin man snaps his head back at the sound of latch.

Sugar crosses over to a night table where a mini-bar has been set up. “Let me pour you something to drink,” she calls over her shoulder at the man.

“Oh, I don't drink. Mother’s a teetotaler.”

Hunter’s voice roars with laughter in our head. Sugar quickly covers her ear at the sound while she pours the drink. She then deftly produces an eyedropper to squeeze two drops of brown liquid in the glass before squirrelling it away.

“There’s a first for everything,” she hums. Sugar turns and crosses toward the man, who now sits on the edge of the unmade bed. It feels very strange to me the way her hips swing like a pendulum as she walks. She holds out the drink to him in front of her chest (at his eye level) and sings, “Think of it as Momma’s milk and it will go down smooth.”

The man gives the glass a hard look before taking it.

Hunter whispers to an unseen persona, “I told you she’s good. Trudy had the last one in tears at this point.”

Sugar sits down beside the man, and winds her arms round his neck. “What is it you do?” she coos into his ear.

“I work for the district a—ahhhh, maybe it’s best we don't talk about me. What is it you do?”

Sugar bats her eyes at him, “I’ll give you three guesses.” The man titters and blushes.

Hunter hisses in her ear, “Stop being cute; work him over.” I can feel Sugar’s body tense up at Hunter’s command. I can feel she wants to reply, but she holds it back and bites her tongue.

She begins to rub the man’s shoulders as he downs the glass. “You're so tense...Whatever it is, your job must be very stressful.”

The man sighs and hands the emptied glass to Sugar. He lays his back down and stares at the ceiling. His voice trembles as he says, “Today, particularly so....”

“Attagirl,” Hunter’s voice whispers and I’m glad when the dream ends there.

[Deleted]