The Red path interrupted the road at an odd angle. People passing could see up to the first kink but no more. The way was narrow and crooked and it hated people. People are nosey Parker's they need things to know but not all things want that, some things need to lost, some things are best left lost. Forever. She knew that.
She liked the Red Path. It was a place for losers not for finders.
It was last autumn when the path coughed leaves onto the pavement in front of her as she passed by and interrupted her concentration. She stopped and frowned and looked down into its deep throat full of spiders and mould and soft voices and wicked giggling.
A breeze crawled up her skin and flapped her dress. She pulled her mouth tight and slit her eyes but it was too late.
The path got inside her and made it her twisted away at her face until eventually her teeth grinned. That's how they met. She loved how it would rip her inner thighs with brambles.
The Red Path begins level with the road runs behind the houses then splits, one fork doubles back on itself and descends to the green, continues to the football fields and ends at the skate park under the bridge.
Sometimes boys would finger her for money behind the half pipe. They were not very good at it but she did like how she could make their body ridged, and keep them like that until they came.
Sometimes she would stop stroking them moments before the end and they would whimper and beg and stab their erection in the air and she would laugh at them. Occasionally she would leave the boy all erect with his jeans at his knees and run off with the cash. Her mother taught her that trick. But most times she'd stay and stroke them slowly and grin as their desperation accumulated, and when they crossed the tipping point she would stop, and hold it tight at the hilt and wait laugh as they dribbled. She loved how the body would cramp once or twice then collapse relaxed.
Sometimes she would slip a hand into her anorak and ratchet the blade of her box cutter and cut into herself swallow. Other times she would reach down through a slit, that she had put in the pocket, and finger herself. Either way it made her wet and got her itch. Her only rule was no climax. Never!
She was allowed to the precipice but not over it. Each self denial at the edge would make her itch swell a little more. The longest she managed to edge was twenty three days in a row, and the release after that was quite sublime, the remembering of it lasted for months. It was a tranquilliser.
All the chattering would quiet, and her breath drew deeper and it was easy to smile. The discipline was worth it.
Now, if you took the other fork the path crossed the highway.
Well, first it passed houses with mouldy green walls, the second hand people lived there, then there was a fire break gutter which was cluttered with garbage, and only then did the path bridge the highway in a metal cage.
On the other side the path was new asphalt and descended to the bus yard in straight line beside by council estates, wooden fences and thick bramble. On that side the path had a half shadow of moss where the sun couldn't reach, but on this the sun never reached it, it was permanently damp.
An overweight Caribbean woman, laden with shopping approached from the opposite direction and just before they met she turned abruptly and walked through a wall. The girl saw her do it. She was shocked until she found a plank was loose and it bent away like a playing card to an alley paved with concrete squares. A labyrinth of corners and walls lay waiting. She looked in, looked around and nodded, then slipped away.
A black man with a swollen mouth and bald patches tried to sell make-up to her on the way home. She was listening to music. He looked at her with urgency. His mouth opened and closed painfully. She did not hear a word, she watched the lips wobble, he had missing teeth, cut back to flat stumps against the gum and black tipped. He pulled a plastic tube of skin concealer from an inner pocket and fondled in with his palm with his thumb, rolling it back and forth. The tube was white woman beige. It looked foreign on his palm like that. He scratched at the side of his head. She shook her head. His mouth twitched then opened and closed some more and he looked around with eyes unable to focus on anything, they just rolled in the sockets. She shook her head again and left.
That afternoon the clouds rained away and where gone by sunset.
When it got dark she undressed and stood in her open window naked.
She turned in the moon light. She lifted her arms with open palms and bent her legs to point her toes, she ran fingers through her hair and curled it and her stoked her face and neck and chest and when she was done washing with the moon she curtsied.
She left the window and returned with a frock and held it up. It was white and it glowed. She waited and listened then she nodded and fetched another dress. Also white. Another pause but this time she blushed and lay the dress on the bed.
The curtain fluttered and a chill glanced her, her skin tightened and the hairs stood, the cold went up her back and down her chest. She shivered and reached to rub heat on to her, but stopped herself. She let the cold have her, and bit her jaw until the calm warmth returned.
She dressed in the same underwear, the selected dress and red converse sneakers with clean cotton socks. She tie her hair back then locked her bedroom door with the clasp and padlock mounted inside.
She walked into the night, the shadow of the sun.
The lamps along the red path where extinguished by vandals. The path was black. For a moment she felt the tremble of blindness, the doubt which insists that nothing friendly exists. The blind softens and wild Satan's emerge, they too soften and the neighbourhood emerges stripped of its color.
Her gait relaxed and returned to her the grace of a cat.
At the refuse alley she turned in, behind the row of homes. The alley was adjacent to the highway, cars wooshed past like waves on rocks. She counted her steps then approached the fence and looked in.
The yard had a long garden with a garden shed and a slatted gate which had been left open. She walked up to the patio deck and watched three people eat. A father in an arm chair, and the rest on a sofa. They all had trays and flickering blue faces. No one spoke. They chewed, blinked, looked down, a fork would lift up the mouth would open and the fork would disappear. The man pointed his knife forward, wagged it, swore then drank beer.
The girl approached exhaled on the window and drew a smiling face upside down then she stepped back to admire it. A subtle glow from the room beside the living room make her turn.
A bright passage light silhouetted a person entering the room. The door closed and the person crossed to a single bed. A lamp went came. The person was a teenaged boy. From the bedside draw he got half a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of hand lotion, then sat down at his desk opened a laptop and put on headphones.
The girl covered her mouth and her eyes grinned.
The figure leaned back covered in the flicker of pornography, fumbled in his lap and reached for the hand lotion.
The widow was divided in two and hinged half was ajar.
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She gets her phone, and holds it to the window and giggles softly and watches him watch his screen on her screen with a red dot glowing under her thumb, then she puts the phone on the floor between her feet and takes her panties off, folds them up, shows the rolled ball to the camera and lobs them on to the pillow, then frames her face against the widow back drop, smiles and makes a peace sign. (and then she leaves)
The wind was sofy and blew up her thighs in a way she had no noticed before. She felt outrageous without her underwear. Her pussu liked feeling the the breeze of the night.
Back in the alley she squatted on her pone and took a photo of herself. It was blurred, so she took another then she pit the phone b b bnack in her bra and continued up the alley it ended in thick bramble, she tried to wade through but it was not having it, and ripped her inner thigh.
And netttles stung her behind the knee and she abandoned that way for a night with jeans and doctor martins. The houses beuond the n nrambles where nig and bright at night.
She went cc bac bavk to the pa path Back on the path she took another picture, this one was the tear and tiny drops of blood. Blood looks black at night. The itch was uponer her and she felt very wet.
She walked down the red path to the caged bridge over the motorway and lifted her dress and counted the cars passing between her legs. He took a photo that looked like she was the tunnel, and she laughed at that photo.
A man on a bicycles went passed with a huge cube on his bag, he left the smell of chicken and french fries in his wake.
Hey give me the food and you can finger me, she shouted after him, but he was already gone.
She went to the broken fence and slipped in. There where more rows of house and back yards and then there was a house that picked her.
It was up a short but steep drive way. The road had lamps but this place went dark. The house invited her, and the way it spoke within made her heart race.
I see you down there, the house said And then a widow beamed a shadow crossed and returned and the light went out. The after glow lingered blue whenever she blinked, and then the ghost of the light faded and driveway swallowed her one step at a time.
Her heart was thumping, it was midnight at least and she could feel every air on her skin as she kept up the drive way, she could feel the breeze on her pussy. It was cool and fresh.
She got to the front door and at the first step a bright light turned on and exposed her, she was blind for a moment, then darted out of the cone of light, and hid in gardenia hedge, it was still in bloom and the perfume was pungent. She waited. Nothing happened. The light extinguished. She venture back out. All the windows were black slates except of one at the far end. She head for the light and looked in the room was empty.
A movement made her duck down, she had been seen, doubled over she crawled alone the wall to the corner.
She frantically looked about for a route out. She was panicking and she had to knee and lean against the wall and breathe her way clear of the suddenness of it all.
In the frame of light a silhouette appeared an arm reached up and then the amount of light was halved, the silhouette leaned the other way, did the same thing and the light was reduced to a thread. She had stopped breathing and had to remind herself to inhale a few seconds after the curtains had been closed.
She giggled into her palm and smile up at the eves. then she stroked her pussy it was so wet, and sticky she tugged at her clit and it was aching o cum,
She looked a round and hitched the hem of her dress up so she could she herself and curled her her two middle fingers into her cunt, and slapped them in and out she was getting closer and closer, and she loved seeing her fingers disappear inside her, and feel them form the inside, it was getting desperate and she pulled them put and rubbed the clitoris fast her abdomen tensed and her gasped silently she was going to come and then she clenched her eyes and stopped and panted and let her cunt drip on the floor.
She stroked it lightly and breathed. She stood up and let the skirt fall her breasts felt so full. She slipped along the wall to the crack in the curtain and looked in.
There was a woman inside, the woman was wearing a tank top pale blue hot pants. Her hair was tide up and her face was very shiny, it was one of those pour cleaners, she pottered about cleaning up things that where are ready cleaned up, her mother did this all the time. Perhaps as you get older the urgency of neatness would grow in her too. h The woman left the bedroom with a bundle of clotting.
The girl chased around the back of the house into the backyard. She scanned the black window until she spotted one that was outlined in white glow and headed for that. She passed a glass window on the way and dodged a plastic garden table with plastic chairs neatly covered and stacked in neat rows and leaning on the wall. The rear exit had an awning, but it was retracted.
The destination room was frustrating became she could any make out some shelves and such. The woman was in there, she could hear her. The girls walked back to the glass door, she sat on the table, it was cold against her but. She looked into the kitchen area the light was on and then suddenly the woman walked in, She was wrong, she wasnt in the laundry, the woman walked straight toward the glass door, the girls gasped and froze and stopped breathing.
the woman looked directly at her and stopped. She put the large bundle of washing on the counter top and walked forward and stopped. She smiled and stopped. She bared her teeth then stopped. She turned her body and pushed her but out and pulled her tank top close to her form then she picked up the laundry and left.
The girl was still paralysed and then she laughed into her hand pressed against her mouth, and lay backyard on the table and lay there absorbing the chill of the plastic through her dress. She looked left and then right and smiled at the world. She lay like that a while then she lifted herself on her elbows and looked into the house again. Her dress had draw up high on her thighs. She opened her legs and wagged them in the air and nodded at the glowing kitchen.
Then she sat upright, with her hands gripping the edge of the table and hunched her shoulders and let her head hang. The woman returned and the girl watched her open the cupboard under the sink pour washing powder into a small translucent up, get two plastic bottle out, then the woman left again.
The girl scratched an itch on her cheek,and then she smelt her fingers, she turned her fingers over and smelt them again, and again then she tasted them and then stood up and walked to the door and pulled at the handle and the plane slide open. She let the door handle go, her arm flopped to her side and she looked at the tiny opening she had just created, then she looked down the house to the laundry, the window outline was still glowing. She pulled her dress straps over her shoulder and the dress dropped.
She stepped out of her converse speakers and entered the kitchen dress in her bra and socks, she turned around slide the door closed and stepped back and looked herself up and down. A mobile phone was tucked in the cup of the right breast. She took it out and held it over her face and straightened her arm. It flashed. She pulled it back fiddled and then resumed the pose. There was no flash this time. Then she reached an arm behind her back and the bras tension went limp. She took it off and pulled it around her waist and fastened it in the front and pulled it down until it was comfortable.
The girl faced the corned of the kitchen and extended her arm again, held her bra aloft and smiled and tilted her head, then pulled the phone in close and fiddled and smiled to herself then took another selfie with a big grin and a two fingers splayed and put the phone into her bra holster and leaned forward and stroked the smooth marble kitchen counter top.
The light in the laundry went out and a second later the girl jerked her around and darted out the kitchen into the passage.
The kitchen stayed empty for a while.
The woman returned opened the fridge and poured a glass of wine, then she approached the glass door, locked it and put the key in the closest draw and returned again to draw the curtains.
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She had never walked that way, in fact she had never really noticed it was there until recently. The corridor began talking to her.
When ever she walked passed it spoke. Well not typically talking, its not a person so that's stupid. The corridor would cause talking from inside her eyes.
It would cough leaves in front of her, as she walked home. That would make her look into it and that would interrupt her thoughts and that would make her stop walking.
Then it would sigh in a way that made her pussy sticky. It wasn't the sound of a sweep of wind through spiky dead leaves, no, it was a sigh in-between her eyes. The corridor knew how to sigh inside of her, and occasionally it was so deep that she felt compelled to catch her breath with an involuntary gasp. The tunnel was a tricky thing.
It was a rude corridor, untidy and unkempt and crooked. She would frown at it from the other side of the road. And if it had teeth she imagined it would smile them at her.
That leafy walkway wanted to eat her, and she new it in the way that food knows that at some point it will either rot or be eaten. But the corridor would have to wait because her pussy was very wet and she was in the mood.
People would appear from no where, people from the neighbourhood, no matter how closely she watched. They would be not be there and then altogether there.
And they would walk out the throat, over the tongue, and onto the pavement and circle around the big bowel and be off to their home. The tunnel didn't talk to them.
She was almost asleep, and it intruded from the other side of the cul-de-sac.
She was up to her knuckles inside herself when it sighed.
"I see you" it said, "you should not be dong that."
but she had just reached the granitic bit and she was so close to the end, she bit her eyes together and let the devil slip out, and she lay back and panted, full of sweat and cum.
Her cunt throbbed like a disembowelled bee barb. The waves radiated out ward and back, and her toes tingles. The waves occurred more slowly until they stopped. And the tingle in her toes receded. It was a lot of work and over so quick.
She dipped a finger into her slit and stroked up and down then patted her finger on her entrance and pulled wet threads of grool, which she pinched between finger and thumb into meniscus webs for her phone to see. When her breath was normal she picked up the phone pouted waved goodbye and stopped recording.