Steamy Screams: Anthology of Erotic Horror

“I don’t want any man touching you, Coco.”

She hadn’t heard words like that since she thought she had found love in autumn of 2005. He was a French painter in the city, and as any Frenchman would do, just to be a living fuck you to conservative America, he was dating a woman with a cock. But that only lasted two months because he found out that real pussy was much sweeter.

“My apartment’s in Chinatown,” Coco said, admiring Eel’s dark buzz cut as he took his hat off for her, the way his chin jutted further than his forehead as he removed the high collar of the trench coat, his near to perfect thin face.

“Can I come over?”

Eel turned fully towards Coco and grinned. His teeth were glamorous and flat, the cuspids shaved down into interesting cones, all behind lips as thin as razor wire. He was the most exotic thing she ever saw.

* * *

They wasted no more time on one another. Before Eel was able to kick off his shoes he had Coco in his arms and was pushing her records and sickly looking paraphernalia off the bed. Coco felt enthralled, wild, it had been so long that she almost forgot how to give her body away for free, let alone allow a man to even think about touching her down there; but this felt right. She would have asked Eel to stop—his thin fingers like strands of silk brushing across her thighs and through the holes in her fishnets—but he enchanted her too much.

The way he touched her body was confidant. He knew how to treat a woman, how to connect the pieces of the puzzle that was female flesh. His lips met hers as he undid the zipper on her jacket, sliding them down her exposed cleavage. He licked the V of her collar bone, cleaning all of the wet worry of the night away, sucking at his teeth as if she tasted great, and then nicked her neck with one of his pointed fangs.

“You taste like a goddess,” he said.

For the first time Coco could really see his eyes, how green they were, how fragile. Glittery lights from outside glossed everything in a yellow sheen. It made Eel’s face translucent, teeth gleam. Then there were her nerves at the oncoming spectacle of getting naked, though Eel gave her no premonition of danger. He had been a gentleman from the beginning, his vibe was neither vehement nor prideful, not like the pig men who spit at her if she didn’t sweat enough when she danced, or sucked hard enough when she blew them in the back room.

He unbuttoned his tight black shirt, staring into Coco like an ocean beating against mountains. Coco knew that she could love him, and not like the French painter, or the way she did with the men who paid her. When Eel was down to his wife beater, she saw an unusual bulge beneath as if he worked out a lot. Then he had her head cupped in his hand, licking the smooth curve of her eyes lids, her thin brow and her flushed cheeks. His hand crawled down her legs, spreading her thighs, allowing air to kiss the damp dark between. She felt her crotch swell and snag her pubic hair.

His tongue moved down her stomach, edging closer and closer to where men were forbidden. Eel stroked the nervous tremble away from her legs with his small fingers. Then Coco’s mouth gawked opened from pleasure, and from the command of his tongue licking her like a stamp, a torrid worm trekking her body. Then Eel came up and slid his tongue across her teeth, her gums, and when he finally found hers they melted into epiphany. She couldn’t help but to fall prisoner to him. They had made an unexpected connection.

Without thinking Coco began to pull the wife beater over his head, her needs primal, but he stopped her. NO! She thought. No one had ever made Coco feel so feminine. New urges circulated through her blood vessels and shot them with a quick dose of adrenaline. She raked her nails down his back until she felt his blood well in the furious tracks, until the wife beater ripped in two. He pushed his face into her neck, biting her chin reactively, incisors drawing blood, his tongue invading the wound, lips suctioned to it like a small vacuum. And then she remembered that her nickname obliged her into the curse of those stupid creatures that had wild sex, but were aristocrats and beasts in the books and movies. So she bit him back, just a little bit, and an effusion of liquid red velvet spilled into her mouth. Shock surged from the very corner of Eel’s eyes, until it brought his entire sharp boned face into a frown.

Then Coco saw why as the binding came loose from his body and a very small set of breasts exposed where the ace bandages bound them down. They weren’t big enough to make Coco think of him as feminine, but she couldn’t help not to stare. Eel turned his head away from her, embarrassed. She didn’t want the gender dystopia to spread into confusion and ruin the night, so she found his face and stroked Eel’s tears away. When Coco licked her fingertips she thought it was better than the blood, better than the sweat. It was rich with Eel’s true essence.

“I’m so embarrassed,” he said.

“Don’t be. I still… love you.”

“But… I’m a man.”

“I know, Eel.”

“You’re the one Coco… so special.”

Eel’s face scrunched into shame, but it was as if the turmoil of the predicament inspired him. He grabbed a handful of Coco’s lush hair, twisted in dark ropes from the sweat, and entangled it in his hands. Coco knew that no matter his shell of skin and bone, Eel was no female. Then they were kissing again. She spread her legs as if fairy wings, allowing Eel into her domain and wrapped them around his waist. He lifted her up and she was sitting upon his crotch as Eel thrust his pelvis into her. Coco felt something hard, man meat, she thought, but when her nails ripped away the top of the pant line and fished the inside all she felt was rubber. Still, she stroked it like a real cock, like she had done to countless others. Listening to Eel moan pleased her the most.

Flames escaped from between her thighs, heating up the room. The air innervated with moisture and weighed it down on them like morning dew. Then the tape’s stickiness gave into the wetness of lust, to the labyrinth of trans-love, and her rock solid shaft broke free, bolting upward. Coco’s heart lurched; her body ached with the memory of the anger her clients held for her whenever they saw the bulge. But Eel gave her a dazzling smile, his face flushed with happiness, teeth all white and glamorous and sharp. Everything was just too perfect now. Then he scrambled off the top her body.

“What is it?” Coco asked.

Eel was sitting at the foot of the bed, a long crystal drizzle of sweat mingling in the furrows of blood on his back.

“Eel, talk to me.”

“Did I ever tell you that I’ve never been with a boy before?”

“I’m not a boy.”

“I know. You’re special.”

Coco enveloped him in her arms from behind and licked the back of his neck.

“And did I tell you that I’ve also never been with someone with your abilities?”

“Abilities?”

“Yes, abilities.”

“I don’t have any abilities.”

“Yes you do, you’re a night prowler, aren’t you?”

“A what?”

“You only go out at night, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ve been looking all my life for someone like you.”

When he turned Coco saw the faint fragility of a woman, something that reminded her of the many girls she’d seen beaten by their pimps, like when they could no longer hide that abashed look as they were forced back to work whether with a swollen lip or eye socket, to dance with bruised legs that no makeup could cover. The vamp the tramp reputation had truly gotten around, and now even Eel was confused about it.

“Ever since I was a kid, all I read was the stuff about them.”

“Eel, I’m—”

“My teeth, you know, have been shaved like this for years. It’s safe to be transsexual and like them. It’s not safe to be like me and human.”

“Eel, listen—”

“No, Coco, you listen,” he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, so close his lips were at her ear. “I love you