The Devil in Miss Daisy (A Story of sex as Comedy)

Toward the middle of October, on the morning of her 30th birthday Daisy took notice that her sexual interest had inexplicably faded.  She was not sure what position she should take towards this.  Tentatively she gathered from under the bed her scattered dildi and appliances, and put them away in the drawer which until last Christmas had held Ernie’s  underwear.  Seeing them dumped haphazardly made her a little depressed.  She felt a mild snobbish superiority to other women her age who invested so much time in masturbation, to call it by its name.  She was free of all that.  Adult.  Loftily transcendent.  Aspirational.  She would consummate her virtue by taking up yoga and maybe becoming a Buddhist or a Unitarian.

    Sitting at the kitchen table, she stared into her coffee and noodled. She had dreamed something last night, which she'd forgotten, but whatever it was it had reminded her of a childhood memory.  She knew the memory was a real experience, but she could never explain it.  It had happened at her mother's kitchen table, just like this.  She had been sitting.  She had been bored and sleepy.  There had been an orange on the table.  She had looked at the orange and sent a thought to it, commanding it to move.  The orange had rolled to the edge of the table and stopped.  She commanded it to return.  The orange rolled back.  At the moment there seemed nothing strange about it.  Years passed and she had tried to do this again and again, but whatever it was had faded.

     Was this funk normal when a woman turned thirty?  Was it an early onset of menopause?  Could it be fixed with vitamins?  The self help paperbacks assured her that thirty was the peak of ripeness for a woman's lust.  She conjured the paper boy, then the bagel boy at the train station, but there was no response.

    Rex, her big black Labrador padded into the kitchen, lowering his head, wagging his tail, looking at her the way Ernie had done on their honeymoon, looking up adoringly from between her thighs.  He signaled by his dog dish that he wished to be fed.  But the dog food had run out.  She'd thrown out the bag yesterday, which would mean a trip now to Wal-Mart. 

    She spent the morning walking, circling around the idea of taking up women’s causes and maybe becoming a vegan as well. 

    Towards evening she got in the car and drove to the Wal-Mart for dog food, still grieving over what seemed more and more a defeated cunt funk.

    While heaving a thirty pound load of Mighty Dog into the shopping cart, it occurred to her she needed a bathmat.  Daisy walked over to the House Hold items, found the plumbing section and picked out a bathmat, a pretty blue one with a swimming school of cheerful clown fishes.  Next to the bathmat were the toilet plungers. 

    One plunger in particular had the usual huge rubber bulb, but on the other end of the yellow plastic handle the hand grip was a series of smooth bubbled knobs that caused strange stirrings in her nether plumbing.

    She ran her hand over the knobby bubbled grip and felt a friendly twinge awaken below. She ran her finger lovingly over the knobbly plastic meatus and imagined a little bench work with a hack saw and a small but powerful Japanese vibrating button, well placed. 

    She went to the aisle under the tactful sign "Family Planning" and picked out a box of Magnums and a tube of Astro Glide and went to the checkout.  A passing woman's disapproving glance at her basket stopped her.  A well endowed toilet plunger, super size condoms and lube.  Dog food notwithstanding, the cashier and everybody behind her would see the big night she had planned.  There needed to be something more  for cover.

    She went to the grocery aisle and oddly all the produce, cucumber, bananas, papayas for gods sake, seemed to only shout dick-ness.   She went to the canned goods aisle and picked out several tiny cans of Under Wood Deviled ham.  The little red devil with the pitchfork has terrorized her dreams as a child.  She felt a thrilling mastery over it now.

   At home as evening sank on her, she felt no better.  The malaise only seemed to deepen.

It sucks to spend your birthday alone, she thought.  Her new toilet joy-stick in the bathroom, still in its white plastic Walmart bag was softly crooning to her along with the lube and condums.  She had gotten as far as removing her clothes and walking around nude to get in the spirit of the thing, but the magic had finally failed her.  She wondered if she might be frigid.  She thought of cooking but even the thought of eating alone increased her funkness.  Nude, she laid out on the sofa with  four tins of deviled ham and crossed her feet and popped one open.

    Someone she’d read, maybe Paul Theroux the travel writer, who had lived among reformed Christian cannibals in the Fijis had said that deviled ham was the closest approximation to the taste of roasted human flesh.  He never explained how he had come across this knowledge.

   She ate from the can with her fingers and stared at nothing.  Big soft feet padded up to her, toenails clicking on the floor.  Rex sniffed at the can and wagged his tail hopefully.  She held out her finger and he tipped his head and lapped at her fingertips with a huge rough tongue which sent a shiver through her loins.  Her knees fell open as he put his heavy front paws on the couch to get in close.  He sniffed at her vadge sweetly with his cold nose and she jumped.

    Without letting herself think about it too much, she scooped up an exploratory fingerful of deviled ham and smeared it over her pussy lips.  Rex caught on quickly.

    They quickly finished the first can and moved on to the second.  By the third can they were both deeply committed to what they'd invented.  "Fetch, Rex," she murmured.  "Good doggie."

    The instant she pulled the ring tab of can four the lights suddenly snapped off.  Ghost whispers, and ghostly tiny orange flames floated in the darkness just as the brutish hunky orgasm began to enoble her loins and her knees acquired lift off. 

    The lights snapped on and the room was filled with two dozen people.

    "Surprise!  Happy Birthday Daisy!"

    "Happy birthday to you . . . happy birthday . . to . you?"  The chorus trailed away.  Rex ignored them and soldiered on.

    "Oh my."

    "Is that Kennel Ration?  What is that?"

    "Is this a bad time?" said Ralph, her boss from the office.

    The orgasm hesitated, drew in, bobbled on the brink.  "No, I'm fine," said Daisy cheerfully as Rex went back to her nuzzlement.  "Hi everybody.  Is that cake for me?"

    "Yes," said Beverly, her aerobics partner on Tuesday nights at the YWCA.  "It's from the Cheesecake Factory."

    "OH!" gasped Daisy, curling her toes as Rex poked his nose inside insistently.  "I like Cheesecake Factory.  You'll make me fat."

    "What is he eating?" said Kevin the paperboy, with an air of serious inquiry.

    "AH - oh Kevin you cute little sucker dick - oh!  I'm sorry," said Daisy.  "That's pussy talk.  Have you heard it before?"

    "No," said Kevin.  "It’s very interesting."

    "It's. . . how women talk where they're about to experience orgasm.  It helps me concentrate."

    "When I'm about to reach orgasm," said Kevin, with touching earnestness, "I think of naked fat ladies in hair curlers so that I can concentrate." 

    "Huh," said Daisy.  "That's pretty different."

    He looked at naked Daisy on the couch with her quivering boobosity and the black Labrador laboring at her fireworks factory and looked troubled.  "That doesn’t make me gay or anything does it?"

    "They're fat ladies right?  Not guys?"

    "Yes.  With curlers.  Like my mom."

    "Then you're not gay."

    "Oh good," Kevin whooshed and mock wiped his brow.  He looked serious again.  "Listen, nobody knows this but my penis kind of hangs to the left.  Is that normal?"

    Daisy lifted her knees and curled and uncurled her toes.  She picked up another gob of the diminishing deviled ham glop and smeared it on her throbbing clit-noodle.  "I had a boyfriend in college once and his ding a ling hung to the left too.  I think a lot of guys probably do."

    "Oh good," said Kevin and whooshed again.  "You know, Ms. Connelly, I feel like I can really talk to you about deep stuff.  Not like my dad."

    "I like talking to you too Kevin.  Come over anytime.  And if you don't ask a grown up, how will you know?"

    Some people from the office gathered for a closer look.  "Better blow out your candles before they reach the icing.  No - don’t get up, stay there.  Here."  Beverly bent down and held the flaming cake up to Daisy's lips.  Rex looked up and sniffed the air with his sticky smeared cunt-truffle seeking radar.

    Daisy put her foot on Rex's shoulders and leaned in and blew out the candles as everyone cheered "Hooray!"

    "What did you wish for?" someone said.

    "Can't you tell?" said another.

    "Is that Kal-Kan?" someone said

    "No," said Daisy.  "Its just cheapie old Deviled Ham."   She opened her lips put Kevin's thumb in her mouth and sucked hard.

    "Boy, he sure does like it." said Kevin, admiring Rex's twat twang technique, which oddly reminded him of Willie Nelson.

    "Say, did you pick this up in Cosmo?" said Jon, her co worker from the office.

    "Mph." said Daisy, laving her hot tongue over Kevin's thumb.

    "It looks Taoist," said someone.

    Daisy let go of Kevin's thumb.  "Naw," she said thickly as her thighs twitched.  "Rex and I got together and it just sort of happened."

    "That's the best way," said someone.

    "You ever notice when the boy dog has a boner it looks like a little red clit popping out?" said Ralph.

    "See if he has a boner."

    "Wait," said someone looking between the dog's legs.  "Oh yeah, he sure does."

    "Wow.  That kind of gets me hot." said Nancy.  "Rub his balls for him.  See if he comes."

    "Don't make him stain on the couch," slurred Daisy.  "It's linen."

    "Go Daisy! Woo!"

    "Go Rex!  Woo!"

    Daisy scooped the last leavings of Under Wood Deviled Ham on her finger tips and rubbed it on her popped out Rexelated clit-bomb.

    "I'd like to hear some more pussy-talk, if that's all right," said Kevin.

    "Have you got a hard on Kevin?" growled Daisy, glaring fiercely.  "I'll bet you’ve got a big glorious hard on that sticks way out to the left don't you? Let's see that big paperboy stiffy shoot your load all over my woman tits."

    "Wow," said Kevin, much in awe.  "She's really good.  I think I need to use the bathroom now." 

   "I just make it up as I go.  You can tell.  Stay here and suck my MILFy cougar tit-tips you dirty little jail bait paper boy.  I mean it."

    "Yes, Ms Connelly," he said.  He kneeled and gingerly put an arm around her belly and his lips hovered over her perky right suck-tip.  "Am I doing this the right way?"

    "Not too hard at first.  Take your time"

    He suckled on her nipple and she jumped suddenly as Rex rasped his enormous tongue on her now operatic and mountingly loud vadge - cleavage.

    "Go Rex!  Go Rex!  Go Rex!" chanted the room.

    "She's going to pop.  Let's get in for a picture.  C'mon everybody!"

    It was true, she felt her eyes squinching up and her face heating as leviathan began to rise form her Freudian tubular tectonic depths.  Human bodies dropped to the floor, threw warm arms around her and squeezed together in the viewer frame as Ralph held up his little camera.

    "Hey!  Is that a Sony?"

    "Fourteen megapixels," said Bob.  "Best Buy."

    "Oh!  Fuck!  Hump me Rex you big bastard - do it.  Unmp!"

    "Fourteen megapixals.  I mean, it's just amazing how far they're come with that stuff."

    "It's coming!"

    "One!" shouted the room

    "Ah!  Nah!  Nrrghh!"

    "Two!"

    "Ah! REX!"

    "Three!  Say Facebook!"

    "FACEBOOK!" shouted the room as Daisy bit her tongue and heaved mightily into Rex's startled snout

    "Got it!" said Ralph holding up the camera., triumphantly.

    Everyone cheered and took turns patting and petting Rex, ruffling his big dumb doggy ears and calling him affectionate doggy names.

    "Let's have cake."