By Jill Trade
My name is Pushpita. My dad told me it means flowered. He picked the right name for me. As soon as I blossomed all I wanted was pleasure. When I learned that I could make lots of money just for doing what I loved I jumped on the chance- literally! Now I’m known simply as Pus. I make my living laying down with whoever pays the most, that is until I locked eyes with him, Caradoc Jones. Those burnt umber eyes haunt me. At first I twirled my long dark hair and sat provocatively on the stone wall outside my motel room where I make my money. He walked by every morning on his way to work and other than that first day he hasn’t looked over again at me since. I had to get a little braver. I would begin to sing as he walked past, nothing. Next, I started laying my barely there neglige’s out to dry on the wall, still nothing. Then, I decided to use one of my idiotic regulars, Clyde Gorman to try and make Caradoc jealous. I had Clyde come over for a romp and “accidentally” left my motel door wide open. Even with all my goods on display Caradoc kept his gaze forward and never looked. The next day I added a little theatrics and moaned loudly but still not a glance. What was with his guy? This tall, broad, with the thighs of a Clydesdale man? Why wouldn’t he notice me? Every other man in town had come to me before but not him. Once I realized I had to do all the chasing I found out why. He’s married to that prude, Marsha. She was a religious nut. We did have one thing in common- we both spent a lot of our time on our knees but Caradoc would surely enjoy what I did over her incessant praying. So I waited until little miss Marsha went to protest downtown and I paid a visit to Mr. Caradoc. I knocked on his door and when he answered I told him that I needed his boys help to round up my new kittens that had escaped. He, of course, being the man he was instructed his boys to run down and try to find all 8 baby kittens. Here’s a hint- there weren’t any kittens. Just one Pus, me! I gently forced my way inside his house. He asked me to kindly wait outside but I told him that I was tired from the heat that day. He said I could sit down and he got me some water. When he returned I knocked the glass off the table, threw myself on it and ripped open my shirt. I said, “take me now Caradoc! Your wife is gone and your kids will be out for a while. I’ll let you be with me for free!” Stupidly he turned me down, threw a coat at me and made me leave. He called his boys back in as I left and locked the door. Well, that was his mistake because I went from there and headed straight for town. I found that holier than though Marsha protesting. I grabbed Clyde from the crowd and I marched him over to her. I told him to do it, burn her. He was such a pansy he wouldn’t do it. So I grabbed a match and lit that bitch’s hair on fire. I laughed so much as she went up in flames. Then, I got the mob to follow me down to Caradoc’s house. We took care of the rest of his family there. That’ll teach him for turning me down. I told Clyde to meet me at my room later for a freebie since I was high on getting revenge but that moron never showed. I never saw him again. Unfortunately for me, I started burning like never before but not from passion. The syphilis caught up to me and took me out. Now in hell my whole body is burning. What a waste of a life!
Jill Trade is married and the mother of three active boys, so she spends a lot of time at playgrounds imagining poetry, which she said she recently rediscovered. Her background includes training in meat cutting, which may influence her imagination.