Several days after my threesome with Nikki and Vanessa, I get another call for Moonx. A woman is calling about her best friend, Ruth, who has been down on her luck and has been feeling lonely. We agree on Wednesday evening and the caller offers the use of her home for the occasion. When we hang up, I’m leaning up against the kitchen counter imagining Peter Parker reading a book at home or having lunch, and then having to put his life on hold in order for Spider-Man to save the world. Moonx certainly isn’t saving the world, but he is making the world a better place, one woman at a time (and in some cases two at a time). I think about what it must have been like the first time Peter Parker wore the Spider-Man costume and then I remember the mask Yuni gave me. It strikes me as funny to bring ecstasy to the sexually frustrated women of the world while wearing my Zorro mask. It’s unfair to compare Moonx with Spider-Man. He’s more like the guy who coaches little league baseball in the afternoons or the lady who cleans out the stoups at church on the weekends.
I can’t remember where I left the mask and start looking for it. I’m searching through old boxes and soon find myself distracted and reading old high school notes and letters. It seems all I thought about then were girls. There are pictures in the box too, one of them of Katie and her cousin in their cheerleading uniforms. I’m looking at the picture and remember the day I was walking down one of the halls at school with Katie. I distinctly remember being unaware of what she was talking about because I was so nervous thinking about how I’d ask her to prom. I don’t remember how I asked her, but she said she couldn’t go because her parents wouldn’t give her permission until the following year. A few months later I was sitting with her and another kid at the library and she asked him to the girls-ask-the-boys dance right there in front of me. My heart must have been broken fifteen times before I was twenty.
My thoughts return to the mask and I put the letters and pictures back in the box. I look through some of the other boxes without any luck. Then I remember having put it in a drawer. I go up to my room and start going through all the drawers. It’s in my sock drawer under the black socks. I put it on and stand in front of the dresser mirror. I think it looks cool, but it looks silly with jeans and a rust-colored polo shirt. It has to go with black. I go through my closet and take out two pairs of slacks, one black, the other dark gray, and set them on the bed. I’m looking through my dress shirts, but it doesn’t seem to me Moonx would wear a dress shirt to ravage a damsel in distress. I look through the closet again, but nothing catches my eye. Then I think a black form-fitting t-shirt might work. I take two black t-shirts from one the drawers and put them on the bed beside the two pairs of slacks. I’m looking down at the clothes I’ve laid out and notice that one of the t-shirts has a front pocket. That clearly won’t do. I try on the other t-shirt with the black slacks and take a quick look in the mirror. I need a belt and shoes. Back in the closet. I’m in front of the mirror again, this time wearing a thin black belt and black leather oxfords. This is what I might wear to a jazz bar or a trendy restaurant. I laugh to myself as I imagine a soft drum roll permeating the room and an announcer saying in a dramatic voice, “And now... the moment of truth.” I tilt my head forward, looking down, and place the front of the black mask over my eyes and tie the ends behind my head. I raise my head. I look at myself in the mirror standing tall, feet apart, with my hands on my hips. “I’m Moonx.”
It’s Wednesday, the day I am to make Ruth a very happy woman. I find her friend’s house and park along the curb. I sit in my car and look around to make sure noone can see me. When I don’t see anyone around, I take the black mask from the passenger seat and put it on. I get out of the car. I start toward the front door when I realize that no superhero would be caught driving a white Honda Civic. I get back in the car and drive around to the other side of the block and park in an alley. It’s strange to be surrounded by puddles of water because I can’t remember the last time it rained. I walk around the block and pass through a gate at the front of the desert-landscaped yard. I knock on the door. A second set of knocks. A friendly middle-aged woman opens the door.
“I’m Moonx.”
“Hi, I’m Marcia,” she says, sandwiching my hand between both of hers. “I spoke with you on the phone.” She leads me inside and invites me to sit down. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. You’re very kind.”
“I want to tell you a little bit about Ruth.” She held her hands together on her lap. “She’s a widow, mother of three—all adults now—and she’s struggled with depression after her husband’s passing. She’s always been full-figured, but since becoming a widow, her weight has become a bigger problem. We all care so much about Ruth, but it seems she’s given up on herself. I hope that you can breathe some passion into her and help her back on the path to her old, happy self.”
I lay my hand on Marcia’s knee. “I’ll do what I can.”
Marcia takes me to a bedroom where Ruth is waiting for me. Ruth is lying down. She is a very large woman. My best guess is that she weighs in the neighborhood of 450 pounds. She is wearing a shapeless cotton dress with small blue and orange flowers. “Ruth,” says Marcia, “This is Moonx.” Ruth lies still and quiet, scanning the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. I place a gentle hand on Marcia’s shoulder and thank her and tell her I can take it from here. She looks at Ruth and then back at me. A smile and a nod and she leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
I kneel on the floor and rest my weight on my elbows on the bed, beside her. “I’m a very lucky man, Ruth,” I say. “I’m lucky because today I get to meet you.” I’ve never done this before and am not sure what to say. “Marcia told me a little about you and mentioned that these haven’t been your best days. Today, I’d like to get a glimpse of the Ruth Marcia spoke about. I want to meet that great woman.” Ruth is still looking up at the ceiling. “If anything I say or do makes you feel uncomfortable, just say ‘stop’ and I will stop, no questions asked. I’m going to take your hand now, Ruth.” When I take her hand, she takes in a deep, loud breath. “Now I want you to close your eyes, Ruth, and imagine yourself on a warm beach as the sun is beginning to set. You can hear the waves crashing around you. The water feels cool against your skin and you feel beautiful standing in the setting sun. As you stand here, I want you to remember a time in your life when you were very happy, a time when you had no worries and everything seemed perfect. I want you to remember how how you felt. Remember that feeling as vividly as you can.” Ruth’s eyes are closed. She’s more relaxed now, listening to everything I’m telling her. I want you to imagine that the feeling is a pink cloud the size of a baseball. The pink cloud is just in front of your forehead. You can feel it and all the happy feelings it carries going inside your head. Feel those happy feelings in your head. Now the pink cloud is traveling down into your neck. Pay attention to the happy feelings in your neck. The pink cloud slides down your neck and is inside your chest. Take a deep breath and feel all those happy feelings in your chest. The pink cloud leaves your chest and drops down into your belly. Feel the happy feelings in your belly. Now imagine that pink cloud turning into two pink clouds. You can feel twice the happiness. Now those two pink clouds turn into four pink clouds and then into eight. It’s an incredible feeling. Focus on that feeling.” Her lips have softened into a sort of Zen smile. “For the rest of our time together today, Ruth, you will be fully aware of the feeling of happiness in your belly.” Her breaths are slow and deep.
Already, in the few minutes I’ve been here, her demeanor has changed. She is comfortable, enjoying the moment. “I’m going to slide my fingers up your arm, Ruth, and as they slide up, you will feel the trails of happy feelings they leave behind.” My fingers work their way up her flabby arms. “As my fingers and hands explore you, Ruth, never lose focus on the happy feelings in your belly.”
I stroke her face. I can’t make out where her chin ends and her neck begins. My fingers hover along the folds in her neck. “You’re a beautiful woman, Rose,” I catch myself mistaking her name, “Those same feelings you feel in your belly, I feel when I touch you. I love touching you this way.” I don’t know where else to go with the pink cloud thing and figure it’s time to start with the naughty business. I notice right away that it’ll be near impossible to take off the dress. I begin to explore more of her body. I’ve never touched a body like this one. If I close my eyes and go by feel alone, I lose my bearings and lose track of where on her body I am. Her breasts are enormous and fall to the sides of her body. It seems they can droop down well into her armpits. When I’m with a woman, I like to nuzzle my nose against her skin. This brings mutual pleasure in most cases, but now it’s not bringing me any, at least not in the erotic sense, though I do find making Ruth feel beautiful and wanted very satisfying. Her skin smells foul, like garlic and cigarette smoke. It gets much worse between her legs. When I lick her skin, I have to stop occasionally because I feel I’m going to gag. I’m having second thoughts about this. I don’t know if I can do it. Then I realize that Ruth has much more to gain than I have to lose. Think thoughts of Ryann and Courtney, I tell myself. However much I think of Ryann and Courtney isn’t going to make the smell go away.
Ruth lies with the dress hiked up as high as I can manage (which isn’t much) and pulled down over her shoulders as low as I can (which isn’t much either). I can see her underwear. It’s soiled and stained and the thought of having my face down there makes me gag. Ruth doesn’t notice. She’s on her back, almost completely immobile. Her legs are incredibly white and flabby like I didn’t know was possible. They are the size of small men. I need a break from her crotch or I’ll throw up, so I start taking off my clothes. I’m wearing only black socks, the black t-shirt, and the black mask, my naughty bits fully exposed. I’m on top of Ruth, straddling her, but there isn’t enough of me to go around. I can’t get both of my knees to reach the bed at the same time, so I’m on one knee on one side and on my foot on the other. I reach under her as well as I can and try to unfasten her bra, but I can’t. Three more attempts aren’t enough and I give up. Instead, I pull her bra up toward her face, pulling her breasts out from underneath, one at a time. They lie on her like dead jelly fish. I call Courtney to my attention and slowly manage a hard-on.
“Touch it, Ruth. It’s yours,” I say. Her giant arms and over-sized hands move like monsters toward my dick. She’s gentle and strokes me for several moments but is soon fatigued by the weight of her arms and lets them drop to her sides. “That was so good, Ruth. I love the way you touch me.” I move up and sit closer to her breasts. The idea was to slip my dick between her breasts, but the gap between them was enormous and there was no point. Her areolas are the size of grapefruits and I’m smacking them with my dick. First the left breast, then the right, and back again. I slide higher up so that she can take me in her mouth, but I get the sense I’m going to asphyxiate her and get off her. I take off my socks and t-shirt, now wearing only my mask. My hand is on her curdled belly and works its way down into her panties. I have no sense of what it is I’m touching down there. I’m not able to find my bearings, but stroke between her legs with my fingers just the same. Only now does it occur to me that it might be a good idea for Moonx to carry a tube of lube with him on his missions. My fingers are divining rods searching for the slightest evidence of moisture. I never did believe in dowsing.
Having failed to generate any moisture with my fingers, it’s now up to my tongue. I take hold of her panties by the waistband and begin to pull down toward her knees, but the panties are caught under her and she’s not able to wiggle or turn so that I can get them off. Much like her bra, I move as much of the panties as I can down out of the way, revealing a tarantula of a mound. The bad odor intensifies and I figure it’s now or never and dive in. I can’t stand the smell and start breathing through my mouth. Bear down, bear down, I tell myself, but I can’t. My breaths get shallower with every lap of my tongue and finally I can’t help myself and feel myself begin to vomit. I jump up off the bed and see a door. I don’t know if it’s a closet or a bathroom, but I just about break it off its hinges and run on in. The toilet seat is up before I can drop to my knees I’m emptying out into the bowl. The last time I threw up was when I was in eighth grade before my taekwondo green belt test. I’m done puking and rinse my mouth in the sink. I’m standing naked in front of the mirror wearing nothing but my black Zorro mask. I’m done for the day.
I walk out into the room where Ruth awaits spread-legged and pubic hair showing over the top of her panties. I kneel beside her and take her by the hand. She turns her head to me.
“Ruth, I’m so sorry I’m not feeling well. It must have been something I ate. I’m afraid I must leave now, but I promise you that I’ll never forget you. Be strong, Ruth, and take care of yourself.” I let go of her hand, get dressed, and leave her lying alone and still with one final good-bye. Marcia is in the living room watching television.
“How’d it go?” she says.
“It went well,” I say. “Ruth is a special woman and you’re a good friend.” I’m at the door with my hand on the doorknob. “I must go.”
I begin around the block but only get as far as the third house down from Marcia’s when I’m bent over vomiting again. I’m weak and nauseated. I make it to the car and lie back in the seat until I fall asleep. When I awake, not long after, the nausea has passed and I take off the mask and drive home. I’m disappointed that I couldn’t do more for Ruth, but as with anything, practice will make me better.
