Lazarus Kiss.07

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

kiss

*7 Tuesday*

It had been a crap day at work. When Harris arrived the elevators weren’t working which meant a ten floor walk up for him and his co-workers, for others it was worse. Firms over the twelfth floor gave their staff the morning off. The grim olive-green stairwells were filled with the echo of young moderns climbing to success, hard shoes scraping on the cement stairs with their coffee cups held aloft ahead of them to spread the hope of the retail way.

He spent the day dealing with Santa’s Sex Toy Shoppe. The company still wasn’t happy with the with the way the shadows looked in certain product photos. In particular the Santa-faction dolls. These were semi-inflatable, anatomically correct Santas – various outfits were optional.

The life size bodies were a soft to the touch plastic. Limbs were fully articulated to move them into nearly any position. The semi-inflatable part was the cock – the more you pumped it the larger, harder it got. More expensive models had fully usable mouths, anuses that were removable and dishwater safe. You could order the Nasty Santa, the Jungle Santa, the Tradition Santa or several others. There was a Mrs. Claus and even elves in the Santa-faction line.

Santa’s Sex Shoppe had supplied the photos but hoped that Harris was be able to tweak the shadows into more appealing shadows. They especially were concerned that Santa’s balls presently looked more like mistletoe than testicles. Their 100 per cent guarantee for Santa-faction required the products be up to certain standards.

The Santa-faction semi-inflatables offered special by hand detailing and life like pubic hair, all placed by hand. That’s what the elves were really making all year.

The elevators were working by lunch time but Harris was still shadow tweaking his client and opted to have one of his co-workers bring him pizza slices and milk. For substantial energy he had a coffee from the staff caf. It was good enough after he cleaned the machine out for what looked like the first time in months. He didn’t understand why it was so hard for people to clean up a little after them. No, they would rather gripe how inconsiderate others were.

Harris ate his meat lover’s pizza and scanned one of the free subway newspapers. The slices were oddly soggy, chewy and dry all at the same time but did taste vaguely of pepperoni and salt.

He stopped scanning to read an item because of the headline.

“Subway Assaulter Strikes at Greendale

The subway assaulter attacked his fifth victim near the Greendale Station around 8 p.m. Saturday night.

As in the other attacks the victim was walking home when he was accosted from behind. The victim, Darrell Jones, 54, a custodian at St. Michael’s Hospital, was thrown to ground, kicked about the head and shoulders and left unconscious. He remains in stable but serious condition.

Like previous victims he didn’t see or hear his attacker. The police say there is no pattern to these random attacks other than they have happened within a few blocks of a subway station. The victims have varied in age, race and gender.

Security camera footage has offered no clues. The public is reminded to be on the alert when exiting a subway.

Anyone with any information is asked to contact the police.”

Greendale was his nearest stop. Where was he Saturday night? He couldn’t remember. His weekends were so dull he couldn’t tell one from the other. He’d worked that day. That he knew for sure. He finished his strawberry carmel blizzard milkshake. After which it was time to get back to shadow tweaking.

To get Santa-faction line done to their satisfaction he had to work on butt cheek, breast and other bodily crevice shadows. The elves’ cocks couldn’t cast a bigger shadow than Santa’s, their well-packed elf-tights had to be tweaked to call attention to their packages yet not detract from the product.

When he was finished the client called Harris a digital miracle worker.

Harris wondered how much of a market there was for this. How many boxes of extra-thick candy cane cocks did they sell.

By the end of the day his eyes throbbed, his fingers at rest moved aimlessly looking for keys to tap. He had an ache in his calves from too much hunched sitting that he couldn’t stretch away. His stomach was queasy from bad food, his forehead felt feverish to him. Even Dusan remarked that he wasn’t looking none to happy.

On the subway home he longed to get get out of his clothes. They felt confining, itchy. The elevator at his condo was working so he was spared that eighteen floor walk up.

He undid his ponytail and dropped his clothes on the floor as he removed them. Shedding the day. Ten minutes in the shower and his shoulders began to loosen up a little. Tonight his favorite pine body wash smelled like rank perfume and not the wide open forest he looked forward to. Despite being freshly washed his hair felt heavy.

He pulled on a bathrobe and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed his feet as hard as he could but there was an tiredness in them that radiated up though his entire body. Dried and dressed only in his favorite Spiderman boxers he paced the apartment. Restless and looking for distraction from this penetrating ache. Was he coming down with a summer cold? Oh great – the flu.

The TV didn’t offer anything to distract him. After working on his computer all day at work nothing online appealed to him. Yet he couldn’t sit still. Pacing from one room to the next, sitting on the sofa, trying to rest on the bed, opening the fridge. Food didn’t appeal to him. Nothing appealed to him. Yes, he was coming down with something.

Who had he met today? Was that it? He hadn’t had his infatuation fix of the day. How could he have missed that not happening? Then again he never noticed it before when it occured, but now with what his Dad has told him he was aware.

Busy day in doors at work had kept him out the public eye. He’d been shut down on the subway he wouldn’t have felt a derailment. He had been closed off to it and this was the result. Withdrawal. He was going though withdrawal. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror but didn’t see anything unusual – eyes looked normal. Looked at his arms and the veins weren’t popping up. His dick hadn’t sprouted vampire teeth. Was this ache the sign of his craving?

He lay on the bed and tried to jack off but his hands didn’t have grip tight enough to get him hard. Did he still have that picture of Laura. Nah, it was probably in one of the storage bins in his locker in the basement, if he still had it at all.

Where could go to make sure he got his fix. The Supermarket. Perfect. Could he make it happen if he had to? This might be a good time for that experiment.

He pulled on sweat shorts, a Batman tee that didn’t smell too bad, flip-flops and headed out. As he walked the few blocks to supermarket he noticed the posters for the missing woman. A couple of them partly postered over. Others had been defaced with mustaches, eye glasses. One suggested they check out the strip clubs on Yonge Street. The defacing made him sad. It was bad enough this woman was missing and that her family was clearly looking for her. To deface the posters was like making fun of all this heartbreak. Harris just didn’t understand humans.

 

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

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