Part 23
Posted by Barbanne on June 12, 2002 at 17:49:12:
PART TWENTY THREE
ROCK BOTTOM
I lay on the bed in my filthy little room.
I didn't want to get up, didn't even want to be awake.
I knew that once I would have had to get up and clean this mess and wash my clothes and wash myself.
Not now.
My self destruction was complete.
My depression took complete hold and I cared for nothing. Nothing at all. Even my own personal hygiene, once something I was obsessive about, became totally neglected.
I ate little.
My health deteriorated and the gastric ulcers which had plagued me off and on since childhood came roaring back.
I collapsed at the nudie bar again, going down cold right there on stage.
The guy told me to go. Sacked me on the spot.
I found another nudie bar, a bit more down market. The same thing happened there.
I kept descending into the world of sleaze.
I was on my third stint as a lap dancer when I met the woman.
She came up to me as I finished for the night. She was tall and fair haired, about forty years old and very striking to look at. Sort of like a really well preserved top line showgirl.
"You're Barbanne, aren't you? she said.
I nodded dumbly.
"I've seen you on the net."
I nodded again, "Long time ago," I mumbled.
"I don't think so dearie," she said, "maybe two months, maybe even less than that."
"Whatever," I said.
"On the Playdead site."
I nodded wishing she would go away.
"I've got a proposition for you."
"Oh yeah."
"Come with me."
What the hell. I went. What else did I have to do? Go back to the roach den and chuck up? Lay awake most of the night with my tummy in agony? What the hell.
She drove me in a big car, something domestic, a Statesman maybe.
Her place was uptown from where I had been working. On the upper floors of a mixed retail and office complex. It was a brothel. I wasn't surprised. The woman who said her name was Krystal catered to every whim of anyone who had the money to spend. She wanted me to cater to her necrophiles. As she said, "Your work on the Playdead site has made you quite notorious my dear and you'll be a huge attraction here.
My work place was a room done up like a funeral parlour. Krystal insisted I shower myself and wash my hair and then she showed me what I had to do. The room was draped in black. In the centre was a white shrouded bier surrounded by candelabra and flowers and other trappings of death. I lay on my back on the bier, stretched out nude, arms by my sides, eyes closed, made up with sort of goth cadaver makeup, all black lipstick and blue eyeshadow and blue shading to my cheeks and throat. (actually making me up was no big deal as I already looked awful, thin, pale, eyes sunken and black rimmed, hair stringy and face pasty, quite ugly in fact) Krystal and one of her acolytes painted blue death spots on my body and lubricated my pussy and ass with lashings of KY jelly and then she would lead the customer in to where I lay and mutter incantations over my body. While she was doing this (sometimes it was her acolyte) she would work over my flesh with cold compresses so that when the customer touched me I was as cold as the grave. The customers dressed as priests or nuns and would mutter nonsense over me before becoming so aroused that they climbed aboard for sex. Throughout the act I had to remain quite rigid and unmoving.
I was surprised by the number of women who used me although predominantly it was men.
I pleaded with Krystal to make them use condoms.
Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn't. Eventually, ever more deeply depressed, my resistance evaporated and I let them do what they liked.
I was in good company I reckoned, Sarah Bernhardt the actress only received lovers when lying in her coffin.
Condoms had only been an issue with the men, the women had nothing of their own to penetrate me with but they loved using a wild variety of sex toys on me.
I was a big hit and a money spinner for Krystal.
I was at rock bottom.
Living rough, dancing in a dump and really wierd whoring.
Thoughts of suicide never left my mind.
I knew I had to do it.