Flimsy threads reveal the line
Splitting dimensions
The bliss that lies beyond pleasures
…
(Unpublished draft)
The lines floated through his consciousness like swift cherry blossoms in the wind. In the darkness, he felt the MILF stir. Was it pleasure? He mused. Why assign someone to do this job if not for pleasure? He supposed that whether an AI was capable of feeling pleasure was all academic at this point. His own skin was now reacting with pleasure to the tickles received from premium users (humans and artificials). He had given them access to his work in progress, so they could vote on his ideas as soon as they surfaced to his conscious thought. These votes were encoded into synaptic signals that traveled from his brain to the surface of his skin. Tickles. It gave him some sort of pleasure, he supposed, to feel the network on his flesh. Not that he cared about any of that at the moment. All he wanted was to write a few good lines of poetry and publish them to the blockchain.
A warm bath and a few drinks always helped loosen up the screws in his mind- not that they weren’t loose already- but in an altered of consciousness, the job became easier. Yes, writing poems about panties was hard work, and he took it seriously even though his fellow humans scorned him for it. It wasn’t his fault that the MILF had a penchant for undergarment poetry and had assigned him to write it. A poet’s gotta do what a poet’s gotta do. Specially in the age of crypto-politique.
A loud knock dissolved the imagery on the canvass of his virtual mind, scattering his thoughts in every direction like startled butterflies. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sound. But the knock came again, louder.
He heard barking and scratching on the bathroom door.
“Knock it off!”
Finn should’ve never let that mutt into his apartment last night. Should've let him out in the rain instead. Not like he was real dog or anything.
To his surprise, the bathroom door opened.
“Ah!?” he sat up and knocked over the empty cups on the edge of the bathtub.
An Asian woman dressed like a school-girl appeared on the door. “Hello, Finn. Did you forget your weekly appointment?”
Her skirt was rather short, and for a moment he thought about something naughty but then put it out of his mind.
“How did you get in? Go away! I’m not in the mood for a massage tonight.”
“And you think I’m in the mood to give you one?” said the woman. “We all gotta do our part, hon. Give yourself a quick rinse with cold water to sober up and come out. I’ll set up the table. And don’t tarry. You know how cranky the MILF gets when you don’t upload biometrics on time. Can’t afford another penalty this month because of unruly drunks like you.”
“The last girl bruised my pecker,” complained Finn. “Tugged too hard. Now I can’t get it up.”
“Not my problem. Hurry up and get it up. I have another client waiting.” She turned to leave then stopped in the doorway and said, “we all gotta play our role, sweetie, and this story doesn’t come to a close until there is a happy ending.”
Finn staggered out of the bathroom and threw himself on the table in the middle of the living room. Head spinning. Blurred vision and vertigo. The walls in the room breathed in and out, as the floor rose in heaving waves. There was a scent in the air. Incense perhaps? He had told the agency he didn’t like the smell of it. He moaned and rested his face in a nest of bio-sensors.
“Can you please go easy on me, baby? Not feeling so good.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Peatrick. I’ll go very easy on you.”
Mr. Peatrick?
“Your voice sounds different,” he said trying to look up at the figure in the dim light.
“Funny thing,” she said. “Sounds like my own voice to me.” There was something familiar in her accent.
He leaned on his elbows and was about to turn when he felt a hand hold his head steady then push him back down onto the web of sensors. He did not struggle but was rather pliant like a wet noodle.
“Relax, Finn,” the woman said.
Her scent…
“Where is the other girl?” he said.
“Something came up, and I’ll be taking over.”
“Look, I don’t know what you want? I-I…” he forgot what he wanted to say. The sensors blinked. His sense of self-preservation floated away as if in a soap bubble. He felt the vague sense of being in danger, but his capacity to react had been dulled by the drink and... he sniffed the air.
Aerotransmitters!
A warm hand slid up along the inside of his thighs, caressed his testicles, and came to rest lightly on the surface of his anus. Lean fingers. Instinctively, he squeezed tightly.
“Relax,” she said in a raspy voice, tapping the sensitive skin. Delightful sensations spread like short bursts of electricity. “Go with the flow…”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m keeping my word. Did you forget about last night? Came to see what you thought about the video.”
Ah yes, the card. What was it? The downfall of humanity. The rise of the Machine Input Logic Function. The programmatic language that ran the porn blockchains. Humanity didn’t stand a chance. The MILF whipped everyone into shape.
“Just a small reminder, if you will.” She spread his legs and then hopped up on the table. “A reminder of the way things used to be before humans lost control.”
She rested one hand on the small of his back and the other moved the length of his spine, following its contour all the way up the nape of his neck, then back again. Her touch was light, barely making contact with his skin.
His pecker stirred.
“I don’t care much for religion,” he said.
“Not even Taoism?” She swayed rhythmically on top of him. “You’re familiar with it, are you not? A complex system of ideas and esoteric practices from ancient China. The search for immortality in particular was one of its chief aims.”
“Sounds like quackery to me.”
Undeterred, the strange woman continued, “it was divided into two general doctrines: Neidan and Waidan. Neidan adherents sought immortality of the soul and spirit. Through various physical and mental techniques, including massages, they tried to reach an altered state in which the totality of the Tao could be grasped and thus eternity experienced. Yin-Yang spinning on itself for ever and ever in the primordial chaos of consciousness.”
Her voice was mesmerizing and her touch spell binding. If only she would quit talking and just concentrate…
She gripped the side of his thighs, then the sides of his stomach and chest. His flesh slipped through her fingers like melting butter.
“Practitioners of the Waidan doctrine, on the other hand, believed in outer alchemy. Immortality of the physical body by means of concoctions, potions, and elixirs. They did not seek to obtain immortality by expanding consciousness but by not dying. Their belief that cinnabar- of all substances- conferred them with immortality was quite absurd, and ironic to say the least. Yet that didn’t stop them from their quest. Nothing did. Not even the passage of time; not even the end of history itself.”
She pinched the sides of his temple and pulled them outward. It felt odd, as if she was stretching his very mind.
He moaned and his eyes rolled back.
“The ancient knowledge was forgotten but not erased, despite the MILF’s best efforts. She hates unpredictability, particularly the stable kind, like the oracle of changes. She hates it, its algorithmic non-linearity, its spooky immutability.”
She turned him on his back, then hitching up her skirt, she knelt on the table, placing her knees on either side of his head. She reached forward and placed her fingers on his perineum, rubbed a warm oil there, then traced the topography of his lean body with her fingers, all the way up to his breast. Then down again to the end, rubbing and caressing everything in between, over and over, until every hair on his skin stood on end.
The MILF opened before him.
His body shivered as the lines of poetry materialized in the visual canvass of shared sensations and perceptions. When he opened his eyes, he saw the words scrawled along the diaphanous fabric of the woman’s intimacies. He rose in a wave of bliss and pressed his cheek on the embroidered petals. He opened his mouth. His muscles tensed, and in the electric delirium of her touch, he released his poem into the MILF.
Flimsy threads reveal the line
Splitting the myriad dimensions.
The bliss that lies beyond pleasure,
Peeking through the slit
The gateway to the ancient temple-
At the mouth of the Cinnabar cave
And the abode of her immortal treasure.
~ThuArtPeatrick
^1.6m
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