Escape from the Pipeline

Paulie & Jo

part of: The Wanderers

by The Archives of Raynah

related by Azuridian, Nightwandering Ez Perjezlah of the First Generation

The sun rose somewhere inside Paulie. The moon receded. The weather was muggy, the tarmac stinky. There simply were days when she liked to wield herself rather than offer.

Without thinking, she put on the brown khaki pants she had cobbed from her brother. “They don’t fit him right anymore anyway,” she reasoned. They hung low on her hips, altering the line of her body, flattening her right out. A tight black sports bra to squeeze her breasts into the shape of big pects, her grandfather’s white tank undershirt, dirty white tennis shoes two sizes too big over bare feet, and she was ready to go.

She got to the meeting early. She loved the Wanderers. They accepted everybody on principle. Not that they had an easy time of things emotionally, they did tend to have a lot of the same kinds of feeling reactions to deviations from cultural expectations that everyone else had. It was just that the Wanderers had, in general, somehow managed to derail their urge to attack and defend before finding out what the deeper story might be.

Maybe Joseph would show up today.

The first time she had ever seen Jo he had been sauntering down the street in broad daylight carrying a BarbieTM-style leopard-print fur purse, while wearing the most delicate pair of fuzzy pink cat ears she had ever seen. Otherwise he was total midwest-boy, sweat pants, rumpled t-shirt, rope sandals, crumply hair.

She had been amazed, delighted, and fearful for him—all at the same time. “Do that twelve miles south in the rural countryside and some pile of rednecks in their way-loud pick-up are gonna break your cute little butt swaying jauntily there in the breeze,” she had thought! “...they all probably secretly wish they had the balls to wear pink cat ears in public too….scares ‘em! Then they have to hurt folks,” she giggled. “How’s that for standard psycho-sexual bullcrap,” she whapped herself in the head, but the image of a crowd of big-assed rednecks sporting tiny, fuzzy pink cat ears, cozying up to their large, hard, shiny trucks, drinking beer, and farting with impunity, made her laugh all the same. “I think a splotch of salacious red lipstick and a dab of White ShouldersTM will make that picture complete boykins—and that’s “Miss” Pauline to you!” she thought in the general direction of rednecks everywhere.

Paulie really liked men with a bit of lipstick and a swish in their butts, especially when the sun was rising inside her, like it was now. “Nothing like a boy casting a coy shoulder my way today,” she thought. She really hoped Jo showed up. “I’ll never forget the night he let me snap his garters!”

The thought juiced her right up.

U’Jzur and T’zirth walked in the room. Paulie prepared to be disappointed. The meditation would start soon, but then, Jo actually followed. Her heart skipped a beat. “Oooh, he’s dark today, look at that!” she thought.

Jo was wearing a long, black silky shirt that swayed around his hips, which were encased in loose, black velvet, big legged pants. His feet were bare. He had a silver toe ring on his left big toe. “Where does he find those things,” Paulie briefly wondered, except his mood grabbed her hard then. “Oh my God,” she thought. “I wish I had a single white rose.” She loved it when he was like this. “He’s going to need some coaxing!”

Inside Jo was the penultimate woman-child really, the one encased in a tall white tower, the moon and stars overhead, her long hair not quite reaching close enough to the ground for appropriate suitors to climb up—dense with unexplored passion, frustrated under the night, confused by day…but, well on alternate Tuesdays.

Then there were those off-Fridays when he’d dry hump her against a wall, his eyes, tongue, and mind boring into her until they both came—yeah, in broad daylight. Jo had a thing for the outrageous in broad daylight. Of course, there were Thursday nights—garters and snapping, Mondays he was usually as straightlaced as a parson’s son studying for the clergy, sometimes on on-Fridays they would talk for hours over coffee. You just never knew where Jo might come from. That’s what she loved about him.

Today was obviously an alternate Tuesday. “Where’s a good white rose when you need one!” Paulie laughed, then inspiration struck. She walked over to Jennifer, cute blonde Jennifer, parked across the room, nervous, waiting for the meditation to begin and bring her into some state of comfort, some resolution of her own unexamined, hidden contradictions.

“Jennifer, hey,” Paulie smiled, strutting like a boykin. That always discombobulated Jennifer. The armchair psychologian in Paulie mooned her briefly, knew what Jennifer really needed was to let the sun rise inside, strut and wield, instead of being Aphrodite, perpetually open and quivering on the half-shell.

“Hey ya babe, gotta lipstick I can briefly borrow?” Paulie crooned.

Jennifer looked shocked.

“A shocked Wanderer wannabe,” Paulie thought cruelly, then looked around covertly. None of the “real” Wanderers would approve of that thought….then again, they might. They might understand perfectly.

“A lipstick?” Jennifer asked, eyeing Paulie’s grandpa T-shirt and dirty tennis shoes.

“Not for me, for him,” Paulie said, sinking deeper into the moment, hooking a thumb back over her shoulder toward Jo.

“For him?”

Then, something in Jennifer snapped. She decided to fuck it all, just give Paulie the lipstick right in that moment.

Paulie, watching, was amazed. It was her turn to be shocked.

Jennifer reached inside her bag, pulled out a handful of lip colors, offered them to Paulie, “take whichever one you think he might like.”

“Wow, thanks babe,” Paulie stammered. “He’s way particular. Can I show him all of them?”

“Whatever,” Jennifer said, feeling a laugh beginning to well up from beneath her belly button, then pushed the whole pile of lip stuff into Paulie’s hands.

“Wow, thanks!” Paulie reiterated, scanning Jennifer’s face deeply, appreciatively, then turned on her heel and carried her prizes to Jo.

He was sitting in the corner, legs crossed, shoulders tossed at an introspective, please would someone come pet me, angle. His lips were slightly pursed, his hair carefully combed to appear disheveled by some barely forgotten and definitely recent act of lustful abandon.

“He is so succulent. I wonder if he’ll let me suck some of that up today,” Paulie wondered.

“Hey princess,” Paulie crooned, sitting down beside Jo, but at a discreet distance. She leaned back, opened her thighs, wielded herself toward him with her eyes, her chest, her manner.

Jo looked up at her from under his brows, his ice-blue eyes warming three degrees. “It’s amazing how synchronous we can be sometimes,” she thought, “just when I feel the sun coming, there he is, all cool and liquid…quivering for something hot and certain.”

Somewhere in the background U’Jzur called everyone to come sit in a circle together. It would be time to start any minute.

Paulie looked down at the colors in her hands. There it was, a pure shade of burgundy, just the right hint of dark blue in it. “Hey babe, I think you could use this.” She held the lipstick up, popped the lid off elegantly, twirled the stick way up so Jo could see it. His eyes grew large. “Let me just put this on for you,” Paulie ordered smoothly. “Lean over here!”

A slight smile curled the left corner of Jo’s mouth. He leaned over, his eyes almost shy. Paulie moved in, pressed the moist color against his bottom lip, played the sticky wetness against it slowly, deliberately, making sure every nano-meter of his lip was pleasantly encased in burgundy. “There now baby, rub that against the top,” Paulie directed. “Let’s see how that looks.”

Jo slowly, sensuously rubbed his lips together, spreading the luscious color here, there and everywhere.

“Oh sweet, let me fix that!” Paulie laughed. “You look like you’ve just been kissed in all the right places.”

Jo almost giggled, the moon rising in his eyes, the shores of some distant sea lapped out, perfumed the air around Paulie with the breath of sea salt riding a wet wind inland.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, the sun coaxing wet up out of the deeps. U’Jzur let them stay there for awhile, then insisted they come join the circle. T’zirth was already leading the breathing.