a man and a woman mutually in love
happens once in a lifetime
and he was it for me.
Charles Stone. Charlie.
He died in ecstasy
so I don’t think what I did was wrong.
He never got angry, even when I bit him
and beat him
but he said “Don’t kill me.”
Charles never wanted to die
but he wanted to die
no, he wanted to die
but he never wanted to die.
We’d been apart from May 7th til the 10th
and we were so happy to be
we couldn’t sleep all night.
We loved so hard we cried.
I pulled out a butcher knife
the way I’d seen in a movie or
a play or I’d read it in a book —
anyway, I pulled out a butcher knife
and I pretended to cut him.
He really loved it.
“I’ll chop off your thing
so you can’t use it on other women,”
I said, and he just laughed.
The next day I hid the butcher knife
behind the picture frame.
I’d grown more and more bitter
about what was happening between us.
That night as we were talking
and later as I stared at his sleeping face,
I began to imagine his wife straddling him at home
in exactly the same way as me…
I tried to force myself to be generous
but I just couldn’t share him with her.
I asked him to commit suicide with me
or at least run away together
but all he offered
was to set me up in an apartment
where he could drop in when he pleased.
From dusk on the 15th till eleven
I went out to see Doctor X
who I’ve known for a long time
and I saw him again on the evening of the 16th
while Charlie was out at the barber’s.
I didn’t feel a thing
but I got fifty dollars for it.
Charlie had been sleeping, but I
woke him and he said
“Now it’s my tum to use the knife.”
He pinched me and tugged my hair
then, when I was in the bath, he asked
if I was trying to wash my conscience.
I liked the way he teased me —
I didn’t hide the fifty dollars
and he knew it had to be from some man
He enjoyed pretending to be jealous…
All the rest of the time until the dawn of the 18th
we never left our burning bed
and hardly slept at all.
We never even stopped to bathe.
It was around the 12th or 13th
when I happened to wrap my sash cord
around his neck.
I pulled it tight and then a little tighter.
Later he told me what pleasure he felt
when I choked him and
I got quite excited when Charles
took me in his arms —
I lost control.
I wanted to do it
and choke him as hard as I could
so I mounted him
and loosened and tightened
the cord around his neck, rhythmically.
He looked close to ecstasy.
When I pulled tight, his tongue stuck way out
and when I let go, it went back in again.
I choked him and he drank scotch:
“When I pull tight you shake down there.
It feels very nice.”
He said “It hurts a lot, but I’ll try to bear it
for your pleasure.”
He got tired and began to blink
so I asked him if he wanted me to stop.
“No! Do anything you want with my body.”
I kept tightening and loosening for about two hours
and then, early in the morning on the 17th
while I was playing with his body
I pulled the cord really tight.
and suddenly lost his strength
and I let go in surprise,
but soon he was up again and
hugged me hard —
tears were running from his eyes.
I stroked his chest, and finally he spoke
“What happened? My neck’s on fire.”
There was a bright red ring around his neck
so I washed it in the bath.
He was exaggerating the pain
to liven things up;
I touched his thing
and his strength came back in no time —
I even had to slap it.
Later that morning when we woke up
I brought some water and bathed his
and he ordered eggs and pickles —
I had to drink the scotch by myself.
Around eleven we felt it coming
and we slipped back under the covers and lost
our minds — we didn’t get up until one.
His neck was better but it still looked bad
and he refused to go out looking like that.
I massaged it but it didn’t improve
so I went out to a drugstore and
bought one box of eye medicine
for his bloodshot eyes.
I already had some tranquilizers
to help him relax.
On the way back I picked up a watermelon.
I felt so bad about his trouble
that I completely forgot about the butcher knife
and borrowed a carving knife from the kitchen.
I sliced the watermelon
and gave it to Charles,
then I had some soup warmed up
and put in three tranquilizers.
“Three tablets won’t do anything to me,”
he said, so I put in five more.
We talked as we ate, with me half holding him up
so it was natural that my hand wandered
down to his thing.
When my hand touched it… that happened
but he didn’t have enough strength to make love.
It was late at night
and I gave him five more pills.
He began to blink his eyes
but he didn’t go to sleep:
“I’ve got to go home,” he said,
“I can’t afford this, I’ve got to go home.”
“Don’t go, please, for my sake!
Stay here with me!”
“You knew from the start I had children —
we can’t be together all the time.”
The more gently he spoke the more upset I got.
I had to think of some way to keep him.
My ears wouldn’t listen to what he was saying
“… my wife is just a household decoration…
you don’t need to be so jealous…
I’ve got to think about my business too, you know.”
Around midnight we went to bed.
He wasn’t feeling strong
but he managed to get hard.
He put me on top and did his best to comfort me.
He finally managed to sleep afterward
while I rubbed his neck.
Once in a while Charles would open his eyes
and stare at me, reassured.
Once, before dropping off again, he said
“You will choke me again
while I’m sleeping, won’t you?
But don’t let go too soon
or it’ll hurt a lot afterwards.”
I wondered if he was asking me to kill him —
but he couldn’t have meant it —
it must have been a joke.
I reached with my right hand
for my pink pajama cord and
with my left hand I pulled one end
twice around his neck,
then I started to pull with both hands.
His eyes popped open
and he tried to embrace me and
I rubbed my face against his cheek
and asked him to forgive me.
I pulled as tight as I could
and his hands trembled as he groaned.
Soon his whole body was twitching
and I was also shaking.
I gulped down the rest of the scotch,
then I knotted the cord tight
around the middle of his throat
to make sure he wouldn’t wake up.
I wrapped the rest of the cord
around and around his neck then
hid the two ends of the cord
under his pillow and went downstairs.
The clock in the office
showed just after two in the morning.
It was a great relief to have done it,
something heavy had been lifted off me.
I went back to bed with Charlie and
drank a bottle of beer.
His mouth looked very dry,
so I licked his tongue and wet it.
I wiped off his face
and lay beside him till dawn
feeling closer to him
than when he had been alive.
I played with his thing
and held it against mine
“Charles is really dead!
I guess I’ll have to die too.”
As I played with his thing
I felt the desire to cut it off
and take it away with me.
I pulled out the butcher knife
from behind the picture frame
and applied it at the base,
but it wouldn’t come off easily.
I had to cut and cut a long time
and it got pretty bloody
so I stuffed the wound with tissue paper.
I got blood on my fingers
and on the sleeves and collar of my jacket.
I wrote “Charlie and Emma, two alone” in blood
on his left thigh
and on the sheet too,
then I carved my name “Emma”
on his left arm with the butcher knife
and I washed my hands
in the basin by the window sill.
I wrapped his penis and testicles
in my scarf and put them in my purse.
I had already put his underwear and shirt
on under my dress and then
I cleaned the room completely —
a farewell kiss, then I left.
I went as far as the train station
then I called the hotel and told them I’d
soon be back and not to bother him.
They agreed and I felt much better —
they couldn’t have discovered him yet.
I called up the doctor.
“From now on, no matter what happens,
please remember that you only
bought me with money, nothing more,”
I said. I was crying.
I knew I had to kill Charles
but until I actually did it
I never thought about what would happen to me.
Afterwards I realized I couldn’t go on living
I’d have to die too.
I really didn’t mind dying
but I worried about Doctor X.
The police would take him in
just because he was there with me.
I felt very sorry
and wanted to apologize to him right there.
If only I hadn’t gone there with him
I would have been free to hang myself
with clothesline in the room but
the thought of poor Doctor X
kept holding me back.
I decided to go out instead
and got very lonely for Charlie.
I put on his shirt
and pressed his thing against mine
but it really annoys me, you know
when people say I’m abnormal.
I made up my mind to die, no matter what
but first I wanted to feel Charles a little longer,
to carry his treasure with me
around town for a while
and then to go and jump off
a tall building but I
don’t think they let you onto the roof.
Around four I had some sushi.
I couldn’t finish much.
At ten I went to a hotel
where I’d stayed before and
took my prize out of my scarf.
I sucked on it a little
and tried to put it in me.
I kept thinking about so many things
I hardly slept the whole night.
Early the next morning
a newspaper at the front desk
with a picture of me when I was young
— I couldn’t let them see it
so I hid the paper.
Rain was falling
when I paid my bill at ten.
There would be no style
in running away so fast
so I decided to take the night train.
Then I went to see a movie
about two lovers who commit suicide together.
The papers were saying things
I don’t even like to remember:
they said every station was crawling with detectives,
I’d never make it out of town.
I got a room and
stayed up till one, waiting to be arrested.
The police didn’t come that night.
The next morning I wrote out my will
and went back to sleep.
I had two bottles of beer at midnight.
I wanted to make another try at dying.
Then I was made public.
I don’t know why everyone got so excited, though,
it’s not unusual
for a woman to love a man’s thing
even if a woman doesn’t like sushi at first
if her husband likes it she learns to.
A woman will often sleep
holding a pillow while her man is gone.
Does a women ever get sick of smelling
the dirty clothes of the man she loves?
And she likes to drink
the hot water he leaves in his cup
eat chewed food
from her man’s mouth.
there are a lot of women who dream about
doing the thing I did — love is love —
the only difference is that they don’t do it,
that’s why the result of my love
is still unconcluded
it’s only just begun.
The incident was accidental
but now I’m caught between a sliding door
and the door of a concrete box apartment
no, I’ m jammed.