The Dream Gun

by Emil Xaro


"The Dreamgun shares Heaven with everyone"


:: The Prostitute::

"We are strong when we make up our minds to die." ~ Napolean


I love to meet strangers, and I try to see how intimate we can become. I have met a few prostitutes recently. Prostitutes make more sense sometimes because you both know what is going on. I pay them and they understand me and my desires, and I am grateful.

It was about midnight and there were few cars on the street. We were driving back to the house and I spotted a young black woman on the corner of Central and 8th. "There Charlie, over there," I said, pointing to her.

Charlie pulled the car up to the curb where the woman was standing. She was wearing a white blouse, a short blue skirt and black high heels. I rolled down the window. "Would you like to come with us, to my place for a drink?" I asked politely.

The young woman looked at my face. "That depends, are you a cop?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Alright, where do you live," she asked.

"Very close," I said and opened the door for her to get in.

She walked toward the car and I moved over to make room for her. She carefully sat down and closed the door behind her. "I could use a drink," she said, staring into my eyes, still uncertain whether or not she was safe.

"You do know I'm working, right?" she asked.

"That is what I was hoping for," I said.

"It's three hundred dollars," she said.

I handed her the money right away. We sat back in silence and listened to the flute music coming through the car speakers, while Charlie drove us home.

We were only a few minutes from the house. When we got there Charlie pulled into the underground parking lot. He stopped in front of the elevator, got out of the car and opened the door for us.

"Thank you Charlie," I said. We stepped out and walked to the elevator.

"It's my pleasure," said Charlie, and kindly nodded to our guest.

Inside the elevator I pressed the button for the top floor.

"My name is Marianne," said the woman, and placed her hand out to me.

I held her hand and said, "It's very nice to meet you. Have you had dinner tonight?"

"No," she said, just as the elevator door opened to the top floor. She stepped in and began to walk around.

"What are you in the mood for?" I asked.

"Do you have any fruit?"

"Yes. The kitchen is right over there. Have a look."

"Do you mind if I take a bath?" I asked her as she headed toward the kitchen.

"Sure," she said. "I'll make us something and meet you."

"Great," I said and went into the bathroom to start the water.

Marianne found her way to the kitchen and pulled out as much fruit as she could find. She found a clean knife and began to chop everything into a large wooden bowl. She chopped everything quickly and as soon as she was done she slipped out of her shoes, dropped her skirt to the floor, and unbuttoned her blouse. In her underwear she picked up the wooden bowl of fruit and walked across the living room and into the bathroom where I was lying in the large tub with my eyes closed. "May I join you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, opening my eyes and making room for her.

She slowly stepped in and placed the bowl of fruit between us. She sat down, picked out a pineapple and placed it into her mouth.

I took out a slice of red apple from the bowl and placed it in my mouth. "Thank you. This looks delicious."

"You are welcome," said Marianne holding a strawberry between her fingers. Her black hair was still dry and she was still wearing lipstick.

"How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" I asked.

"Being a whore?" she asked, wiping the lipstick from her lips and wetting her face.


"A few months," she said. She placed a blueberry in her mouth and gently bit down, releasing its juices. She breathed deeply and swallowed. We sat together in the silence and running water. I handed her a crystal that I kept by the tub.

"Look through it," I said. "What do you see?"

"Twelve naked men in bath tubs swimming in circles," she replied, with a laugh.

"How much would it be for you to stay with me for a few days?"

"It's three hundred a day."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Brilliant," said Marianne holding a kiwi slice out for me.

"That means you can't leave unless we go somewhere together."

"Fine with me, I'm a great prisoner," she said. "Will I be allowed to use the phone?"

"Yes. Who do you have to call?"

"My mother," she said.

I stepped out of the bath and started to dry off with a dark red towel. "When you're done, I want to show you something," I said and wrapped the towel around me.

She stood up in the bath and reached her hand out for a towel. "You can show me now," she said, drying off quickly.

We walked out of the bathroom together and crossed the loft to the far corner. I opened the door to the main bedroom. Marianne followed me in and sat on the bed with the red towel around her while I opened a dresser and pulled out the dream gun. "Don't be afraid," I said.

I put the gun to her head. I pressed the pistol up against her breasts and moved it down to her stomach. Marianne's big black eyes became filled with tears. I stood in front of her, pointing the gun at her. I imagined firing a bullet into her chest and watching her fall back gasping for air. I admired her dark skin and her exposed chest, the way her body expanded to each breath – I began to feel a deep sympathy for her. "You are beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," said Marianne.

"I"m not gong to kill you."

"I'm not afraid of death," she said, standing up from the bed.

I fired the gun into her solar plexus. She breathed in deeply and let her body drop to the floor. I looked at her lying on the floor in my bedroom. I looked at her entire body. I knelt down next to her and touched her lips and ran my fingers down the side of her torso and over her hips.



The Dream Gun



















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