Matt Forney
Spread the Word!

Life During Peacetime: Part One

“Wow, I didn’t know your hometown was this big!”

“How big did you think it was?”

“You made it sound like it was some small town.”

“It is a small town. Population’s something like 150,000 people. That’s not big.”

“It is to me.”

I had been dreading this day. Picking Audrey up at the airport had defused one of the time bombs in my head; at least she wasn’t a secret fatty. At least. Otherwise, she looked like a bunch of horny scientists had tried to design a sexbot but couldn’t quite grasp the subtleties of feminine beauty. Her chin was small and narrowed to a feminine point… under thinnish lips. Her blue-grey eyes were large and fawn-like… and spaced about an inch too far apart. Her dark, curly tresses hung down to her breasts… while her big nose was shaped like a baby’s dick. She even wore oversized hipster glasses, though she swore on her grandmother’s grave that she actually needed them to see.

I felt guilty for complaining. Does the wolf complain when the rabbit hops up to the cave, saving him the work of hunting him down?

Yes, if there’s a chance said rabbit will spring back to life and stab the wolf with a butcher knife while he’s sleeping, my inner paranoiac warned.

“Where are we going now?” Audrey asked, a noticeable Fargo lilt in her speech.

“It’ll be too late to do anything when we get home,” I sniffed. “There aren’t any bars in Ogygia, and the ones in Ithaca probably won’t serve you unless… you got a fake ID?”


“Then we’re fucked; it’s a college town, all the decent bars card.” My mouth still tasted of barbecue. “I’ll just pick up some Woodchucks from the supermarket and we’ll go home and watch a movie.”

“I don’t like it when you swear like that.”

Oh really?

“Well, get used to it.”

“You’re not much of a gentleman.”

Well, you’re not much of a lady.

“That’s just how I talk.”

As we wound down Interstate 81, we started talking about ourselves. She rocked back and forth like a kindergartener bombed on Full Throttle, leaning into me and gesticulating wildly.

“…and I’m starting school next month.”

“Uh-huh. What are you studying?”

“Library science.”

I resisted the urge to do a spit-take. “Why?

She giggled. “Because I love books, and it’s a nice quiet job where I can be alone.”

“Really?” I looked at her quizzically. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who can sit still for long.”

“Well, I’m usually quiet most of the time. I’m really boring. It’s just that I’m… I’m just so excited to meet you!” She squealed in delight.

I reclined in the driver’s seat and let her ramble on, punctuating her spiels with “Uh huhs” and “That’s cools” every so often. When we got to Achilles, I pulled off the highway and into a Price Chopper.

“What food have you got at your house?” Audrey asked.

“Not much,” I replied. “Just some salami, milk and bread.”

“Okay, what do you want me to get?”

“Get? For what?”

“For breakfast.” She raised her eyebrow at me like she was talking to a retard.

“Oh… okay. How about an omelet for tomorrow, scrambled eggs and bacon on Sunday?”

“Sounds good!” She sprung out of the car and grabbed a cart from the nearby corral.

We trudged into the store and gathered up the groceries, Audrey’s peppiness and excitability a stark contrast to my morose tiredness. The fat register jockey on duty looked askance as she rang us up.

“Having a party?” the cashier asked.

“It’s her 21st birthday,” I lied. “She’s my little sis, I’m taking her drinking for the first time.”

“Stop it!” Audrey slapped me lightly on the shoulder.

Do that again and I’ll snap your wrist.

“Oh, well happy birthday!” the cashier said to Audrey, an insincere smile cracking her face. “You only turn 21 once!” I swiped my credit card as Audrey loaded the bags into the cart.

“Thanks for shopping at Price Chopper! You two have fun!” the cashier warbled as she handed me the receipt. I snatched it and walked off.

“What was that?” Audrey snapped as we were strolling back to the car.

“What was what?”

That. Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

That you’re a teenage girl who flew across the country to sleep with a guy you met on the Internet?

“It was none of her business.”

“You’re acting like you’re ashamed of me.”

You don’t think what you’re doing is the least bit shameful?

“Forget about it. Just get in the car.”

She sullenly complied while I loaded the groceries into the trunk.

Twenty minutes later, we were home. Swinging open the front door, I was confronted by two annoyed cats.

“Ooooh, cute kitties!” Audrey gushed.

“That’s Garfield,” I pointed to the fat orange tabby angrily purring on the kitchen table, “and that’s Chanticleer,” pointing to the frightened black cat cowering under one of the chairs. “I gotta feed them in a minute.”

“Anyway,” I continued while putting the groceries in the fridge, “the bedroom’s upstairs, directly across from the staircase. Bathroom’s right there,” I gestured to the door directly opposite the front one, “and the living room and study are down the hall. There’s also a door to the garage over there; I’ve got a six-pack of Full Throttles and some Yuengling in the fridge down there if you get thirsty. Milk and water are in the fridge up here.”

“Yup, yup,” she nodded.

“Now this is very important: the cats do not go in the garage or on the porch. If I find them there, I’ll whup your ass,” I stuttered, wondering why I’d even said it. “You got me?”

“Oh, suuurrre,” Audrey smirked guiltily. “I’ll be a good girl.”

It’s not too late, asshole. Pack up her shit and take her back to the airport.

“Other than that, mi casa is su casa. Just don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to do to your house. Wash your dishes, throw your trash away, flush the toilet… oh, and when you take a shower, spray down the tub with the shower cleaner afterwards.”

“Gotcha. Could you give me a hand?”

I helped her lug her suitcase up to my room, then went back down to pour some dry food in the cats’ bowls. I then cracked open two of the Woodchucks and handed her one.

“Cheers,” I moved to clink the bottles.

You’re really going to regret this.

Afterwards, we settled into the living room to watch Stop Making Sense; Audrey had mentioned that she was a fan of Talking Heads, and neither of us had seen the movie yet. As the band played, she curled up in my lap like a kitten expecting to be petted. An awkward tension hung in the room, like we were each waiting for the other one to make a move. Every fifteen minutes or so, I paused the movie to crack open another pair of Woodchucks, her squirming becoming more pronounced with each swig.

It’s cool, we’re cool. Just two people hanging out, enjoying each other’s company. Right.

“That was a reaaallly good movie,” Audrey slurred when the film was over, as I killed the DVD player. “Reaaallly gooo… aaaagh!”

I’d grabbed her off the couch and started shoving my tongue into her mouth. A split-second of resistance and her lips parted in synchronicity. She’d gotten sick of waiting too.

I brusquely squeezed her breast and snaked my arm under her shirt as I half-embraced, half-yanked her to my room, like a caveman dragging his wife by the hair. As we were working up the stairs, I banged my head on the low ceiling; rural houses were built for midgets, apparently. Rushing into my tiny room, I tossed Audrey down on the bed, tearing her clothes off like a lion trying to get to the meat underneath the fur. Her tummy wasn’t perfectly flat, but otherwise her naked body was flawless; small, perky breasts, a firm, smooth behind and milky, clear skin. I was stiffer than an air-dried T-shirt.

I tore out of my own jeans and wasted no time in rolling on a condom. As I lowered my battering ram into her iron gates of life, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“Aaaagh, aaagh… AAAAGH! Go slow, okay… I’ve never done this before.”

She’s a virgin? Good job, you nimrod.

I hadn’t asked and she hadn’t told, but as I felt my dick rip through her hymen, I knew she wasn’t lying. I redoubled my efforts to get inside her, but it was like shoving a bratwurst into a soda straw. I didn’t have any lube on hand and my thrusts were clearly putting Audrey in agony; she was whimpering like an abused puppy while her lip quivered and her eyes teared up. My reverse whiskey dick—as Shakespeare might put it, drink doesn’t take away my performance—combined with the Trojan meant I wasn’t getting off either. After what seemed like eons, I gave up and tore the condom off.

“What are you doing?” Audrey begged.

“Getting mine,” I slurred, jacking off.

Out of guilt, I tried to use my left hand to finger her, but even then my middle finger barely fit in her pussy. This seemed to satisfy her, as her yelps of pain regressed to soft, catlike moaning. All the while, I cranked myself like I was a spank-addled 16-year old again, desperate to feel that volcanic rise. Here it comes… here it comes… “OHHHHHH!”

I detonated a bucket-sized load onto Audrey’s stomach as she mewled in exhaustion. What remained of her virginity was splattered all over the bedding. A dark, butterfly-shaped stain soaked into the sheets under her ass. My hands were stained with her blood and smelled of her juices.

And that was your first time having sex!

“That was fantastic,” Audrey rolled on top of me, our nipples touching. “Mmmmmm.”

Congratulations dipshit, now you’ll never get rid of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?” I inquired.

“I thought it was obvious,” she demurred, “since I’m supposed to be saving myself for marriage and all.”

Oh, this is gonna be FUN.

“I didn’t think it would hurt so much, though,” she continued.

“Had it not been a surprise, I could have made it hurt less.”

“I still loved it.” She rolled over onto her side, facing me.

“You don’t have to be a kiss-ass.” It surprised me how little I cared about impressing this girl. “Everyone’s first time always sucks.”

“You are going to write about me, right?”

“I have to, at this point.”

She stretched out her arms and yawned. “Put me in one of your books.”

“Not likely. It won’t fit in the memoir I’m writing. I’ll probably write something at some point, but I’ll change some of the details so nobody figures out who you are.”

“And you’ll be coming to visit me, right?”

“Yeah, one of these days. Always wanted to go to Duluth.”

Audrey giggled. “You’re such a liar.”

“Don’t know why you’re going to college anyway, though.” How much had I drank? “It’s not like you’re studying anything useful.”

“I don’t know why, either, but my parents will kill me if I don’t go.”

“Who cares? If they’re not paying your way and you have a job, do what you want. Become a singer.”

“You’re just flattering me now.”

“I’m serious.” I stood up slightly. “Those demo tapes you showed me are pretty good. You could make a killing as a musician.”

“Please, I’m an awful piano player. I made those with my brother’s help.”

“So? Learn another instrument. Take up bass. Be like Tina Weymouth. Or Kim Gordon.”

“Sure, and you can be Thurston Moore.” She stared at me with flirtatious eyes. “What’ll we call the band?”

Well, Starfucker is taken, so…

“You’ll think of something,” my voice trailed off. “I’m bushed. Time to hit the hay.”

“Okey-dokey!” Audrey exclaimed as I reached up to flick the lamp off.

To be continued… (Part Two)