A Dish Served Cold

It was a stupid disagreement. I was eating breakfast and drinking coffee during morning lecture. Tom was a notorious germophobe, and COVID was his personal apocalypse. He came up to me after lecture and confronted me, in front of everyone: “Herman, you had your mask off during lecture. You got to keep it on. You’re not even supposed to be eating in here.”

I lashed out; I should’ve held my tongue. But lots of people were eating, and he wasn’t even chief. He had no authority over me. “Tom, have you guys decided that there’s a no food policy in the lecture hall? No? Then don’t put your shit on me.”

He turned around and walked back to his seat. I was all fired up, threw my coat on, and walked out of there. I drove home in a fire of furious rage. What the fuck? I couldn’t take an insult like that lying down.

Other people from my group called me to invite me back to lecture and tell me they liked me. I guess I appreciated that, but it was hard to just brush past all of that. Spoiled little rich boy, never been in a fight. I’d never speak to him again.

Days went by, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally, I was left with the only solution: I had to get his wife to suck my dick and film it. Fuck her in the ass, if I could.

I know, it’s not the simplest way to quit being angry at someone for acting like a prick, but I didn’t choose to be like this, I just … am like this.

I’m old fashioned; I’m not bisexual. I still like to fuck women exclusively. Otherwise I’d figure out a way to sodomize him. It’d be more direct, but I’d have to settle for his wife.

I went online, studied their wedding pictures. You can read everything in a person’s facial expressions. I looked at Carly’s face, and saw everything I needed. Her stiff upper lip. Her blank eyes and wide smile. The angles of her face. The sweetness, the barely concealed fatigue and frustration. Every look said: “You owe me, asshole.”

Compared to her, he was all softness. Quavering uncertainty. Will that failed. He didn’t have that killer instinct that rich boys needed to earn their father’s love. He was a second son, a disappointment, and he always would be.

I made a show of apologizing to him profusely. I made it abundantly clear to Tom how terrible I felt, and how I respected his bravery for enforcing COVID policies. I threw myself at his feet. I begged him to come for dinner with my wife and me. And to bring Carly, of course.

My wife, Francesca, is a tremendous cook. We bought several bottles of good red wine, and had steak, char-grilled to perfection. Tom and Carly were reticent to drop their masks at first, but they wanted to mirror our unmasked approving faces. The masks were pocketed quickly.

Tom relaxed in our company, bragging, laughing loudly, while Carly and Francesca chatted. We were all good friends now; any unpleasantness was in the past.

Tom drank glass after glass of red wine and was slurring his speech prominently by the time I dropped the roofie in his drink. After dinner we were in the living room talking. Francesca and I switched, so now I sat with Carly, and she sat with Tom. I could hear his voice drop lower in register; I knew the drug was working.

Carly found everything that I was saying hilarious. She could not stop laughing at my impressions of celebrities and the people from work. Finally, I started in on Tom. I imitated his germophobia, making him out to be Howard Hughes, with tissue boxes on his feet and jars of urine. Carly howled with laughter. When she leaned forward, I could through her decolletage almost to her navel. I put my hand on her shoulder and left it there.

Tom slowly turned his head. “Heyyyy…” he said, but he was too far gone to do anything. He’d be a silent witness of the proceedings from now on. Francesca rose from his side and came to me, kissing me tenderly on the mouth, absently stroking Carly’s throat and neck.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she whispered to me as she withdrew from me. She quietly left the room, with me and Carly close to one another. She would go to the computer room to start the living room cameras working. That way, all the events could be recorded.

“I should probably call a taxi. Tom’s pretty drunk, it looks like.”

“Just hold on a moment,” I said, and I drew her face to mine, inhaling her scent deeply. Her eyes were wide, frightened. She glanced over to Tom, still watching, not moving. I gently bit her upper lip and sucked on it. She shivered, and goosepimples appeared on her exposed chest. We kissed, and her sweet, sharp little tongue darted in and out of my mouth. She cradled my head with her hands, holding it for several moments.

She sighed and drew her head back, looking over at Tom. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I’ve only been married a year. My whole family was there. Everyone spent so much money. I can’t just go and fuck someone in front of my drunk husband.”

I took her hand and looked into her eyes. They were sparkling, crystal blue, intelligent and eager. The fright they’d shown a few minutes ago had passed. Slowly, I drew her hand down to my erect cock. I let go and she didn’t release my cock. She licked her lips.

I pulled her close to me and we kissed. My hands were on her bare shoulders, unzipping her dress. She had a tight grip on my cock, and was steadily humping my leg and she worked it up and down. I unsnapped her bra and felt her warm, full tits in my hands, their nipples strongly erect.

To be continued …

Mutant Freak

I have always been

A mutant freak, different

From the norm, and now

You see it, and you

Watch for my horns to grow. You’re

Sure I’m just waiting

For the other shoe

To drop, to flee and fly from

You, join my freaky

Friends. I reassure

You, that I don’t have any

Friends; you are my home.

I have nowhere to

Fly, and I cannot picture

Life without you there.

The Holy Grail

John 4: Jesus and the Samaritan Woman at the Well. I wrote a version of this story to be consistent with the “Wedding Consummation” implied by the Greek proskuneo. The words I used are all alternate translations of the same Greek text.

Samaria, Watchman, Sychar, End: End of Watch

https://hermanshermitage.com/2020/10/13/thirsty/

Migdal also means tower, like Migdal Eber.

Scholars interpret Micah 4:8 as a prophecy indicating that the Messiah would be revealed from the “tower of the flock” (Migdal Eder) which is connected with the town of Bethlehem, southeast of Jerusalem.

And you, O tower of the flock, hill of daughter Zion, to you it shall come, the former dominion shall come, the sovereignty of daughter Jerusalem. (Micah 4:8 NRSV)

But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in labour has brought forth; then the rest of his kindred shall return to the people of Israel. And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace (Micah 5:2-5 NRSV)

Migdal, Gematria 770

John 4: “Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband‘; for you have had five husbands, and the man you are now living with is not your husband.”

Jesus is the 7th. 7 + 770 is 777 : last day of creation, perfection of the Trinity.

Catholic Church maintained generation of this well, but switched the conception to Jesus’ mother Mary:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary%27s_Well .

Fulfillment

Ecstasy suffused

Her; articulate voice, now

Mouthing vowels of love

Her first juices are

Lovely; the second nectar

Is velvet new life.

My pelvis to hers

Creates a circuit from the

Sacrum to her heart

Through her throat into

My mouth, down my throat and to

My heart, sacrum and

Back into her, a

Holy electricity,

We revivify.

Portraits of the Artist, Pre and Post

Relics of ages
Past, my fading images.
Recall I, age five.

Dad said he thought Mom
Was cheating on him, and I
Said, “I think she has

A boyfriend, Dad.” Dad
Still mentions this, thirty years
Later. Some part of me

Believes I caused it,
That if I’d kept my mouth shut,
They could have worked it

Out. My reward for
My psychic abilities:
My parents’ divorce.

But, even then,
I knew it true. Because she
Was cheating on me,

She loved Craig the best,
Even though I was better.
Eric hated me;

I made Dad yell at
Him, not by what I did, but
By being better.

And then it was that
Way with everybody. “If
You’re so smart, why can’t

You do anything?”
I believed I had a gift,
But had squandered it.

I return the photos
To their drawer, understanding
That the boy is still

Me. I hug him, and
Tell him he is loved, wanted,
And he was made right.

Eternal Union

Marriage changes us.
She is part of me now, and I
Am part of her. No

Turning back. Forever.
She is Eve and Lilith, I
Am Cain and Abel.

Sacrifice, and then
Celebration, repeat. We
Fight together, we

Fight each other. Our
House, our sailing ship in which
We make the world.