View Full Version : short story: Pictures of Lily

Angry Mandrill
30th November 10, 04:39 AM
Lily sighed and hung up the phone. Another job done, another customer satisfied.

She worked the phones from home, sitting in her living room in front of the television, bag of chips and frozen turkey pot pie at the ready, serving desperate men lonely for attention from a woman. Phone sex might be cheap sex, but for some it was the only means of contact with a female. Lily laughed and shook her head, her high, lilting giggle cutting through the empty, smoke-filled room, dimly lit by the flashing, strobing, muted television.

She stood and caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Mirrors weren’t her favorite objects in the universe, that’s for sure. Six-foot-two, 425 pounds, Lily had played football in college. But that was 100 pounds and 10 years ago. That was also when she was calling herself Ted, the name her parents had given her. She looked again at herself; the mirror couldn’t see the beautiful woman hidden within, dying for freedom, bursting from the straitjacket of societal mores and cultural restrictions preventing her from truly achieving woman-dom. She sighed and brushed a few long strands of hair from her face, pouted at the mirror, and pushed her jowls back, imagining the magnificent jaw line hiding underneath.

She wheeled away from the mirror and did a quick, graceful pirouette. Large she might be, but grace she had in spades. She moved like a ballerina, possessing that odd grace all too frequently granted to the extremely obese. She spun and twirled, making nary a sound, her slippers chuffing and whispering along the linoleum, crunching stray crumbs into powder. An unfortunate roach, its olfactory superpowers defeating its sense of caution, was steamrolled as Lily’s grimy, worn slipper smeared it into a dark red streak across the orange and white checkered floor.

Her thoughts returned to her last client. Raspy-voiced and sad, his loneliness flowed out of her receiver like molasses: dark, noxious, sweet yet cloying, almost revolting. She remembered when her own desperate loneliness would overwhelm her, making her do things to herself she didn’t want to think about anymore. Lily’s thoughts immediately jumped to the two children sleeping in the other room. Now, loneliness was something buried and remote for her, something nagging at a corner of her consciousness but unable to touch her any longer. Lily looked at the multitude of scars on her forearm. She hadn’t cut herself since word came that her foster application had been approved, and she’d been floating on a cloud of happiness since the children had moved in.

Yes, she was happy. It didn’t matter that Chad had left her, didn’t matter that the fantasies she played out for her clients over the phone actually made her hot and bothered, actually made her all sweaty in her pants and uncomfortably swollen in all the places the surgery had been unable to correct. She could still gratify herself, her imagination able to transport her to the secret places in which she imagined her prince waiting for her, rich and suave and tall and big in all the right places. When she climaxed, the release was a strangely mixed feeling of relief and revulsion: Relief that she could still nominally function, revulsion at the alien parts the botched surgery had left for her to contemplate.

Fuck those surgeons, she thought to herself. Feelings were what mattered, and Lily felt deeply indeed. Since the children moved in she had been having difficulty restraining her tears, even sobbing at the worst made-for-TV movies, rancid tripe parboiled by amateur hacks, devoid of art or subtlety, yanking heartstrings with awful, contrived, wholly unbelievable story lines. Shit, thought Lily, I could write much better than that if I got the chance. Any fool could write better than that.

She walked to the door of the small bedroom, a converted closet, off the main room of her studio. Her two charges, Sam and Matt, lay sleeping in the cramped twin bed she had found down at the Goodwill. She looked at the sleeping angels and breathed deeply, feeling the tears trying to well up in her. The feelings of love and maternal ferocity sometimes made her want to attack the walls and doorways, punching and kicking, destroying imaginary invading hordes of robbers and rapists wanting only to ruin her perfect slice of happiness and familial bliss. She’d come so close to sacrificing herself for nothing, due only to the constant pain in her heart and mind, that the thought of death held no fear for her. She’d gladly die for them, but only after first sending to hell whatever trolls had been sent to devour them.

She sighed. The trolls. She couldn’t forget the trolls waiting for her on her favorite Internet forum. She loved the forum, loved flirting with the guys, loved the feeling of freedom her virtual self gave her, her lithe, sensual, powerful cat woman of a persona, quick with quip and righteous in her avenging nature. Yes, she loved her forum, and really loved the people on it. She could play and pretend til her heart’s content, and it was this, more than anything, that fulfilled her need for adult companionship.

Lily closed the door to the kids’ room and walked to the kitchen end of her studio. She opened the refrigerator and stared into it for a long time, transfixed by the possibilities before her. Her eyes flitted from package to package, seeking a quick fix instead of something requiring effort, and finally settled on a beer. She still loved beer. She fondly recalled the days in college, in the locker room with the guys, the naked guys, the tubs of ice and beer, chugging beers and heaving the cans and singing fight songs. She sighed again and sat down on the couch, a tear falling from her eye. She wiped it away, cursing, and drank deeply, draining the bottle. She belched and tossed the beer bottle into the corner of the room as the phone rang. She cleared her throat:

“Hi there, big fella, this is Lily.”

30th November 10, 04:46 AM
this is beautiful, I could just picture this...see it rght in front of me.
Nice style also.

30th November 10, 05:16 AM
Ouch bro, we're using people's names now? Not even bothering with the thinly veiled alternate names?

Angry Mandrill
30th November 10, 10:57 AM
this is beautiful, I could just picture this...see it rght in front of me.
Nice style also.

wtf, i think i'm touched.

Ouch bro, we're using people's names now? Not even bothering with the thinly veiled alternate names?

pulling punches is for pussies, pointfighter boy.

'sides, lily inspired me. she should get credit for it.

30th November 10, 11:06 AM
I really like it. I don't know if Lils will, but I do.

Angry Mandrill
30th November 10, 11:35 AM
lol, lily is no shrinking violet. your assertions that she will find a piece of fiction on the internet insulting is probably more insulting than this piece of fiction.

30th November 10, 01:59 PM
I could kiss you for that. Love it!

30th November 10, 03:03 PM

Fairy XXXmas
30th November 10, 05:11 PM
Perfection. Truly sublime.

Spade: The Real Snake
30th November 10, 09:42 PM
mandrill wins again.

Frank White
1st December 10, 04:52 AM
No erotica. Disqualified. NEXT!

1st December 10, 05:56 AM
You have a talent many want but will never have.