Skip to main content
Read page text
page 14
Nancy and the Torpedo Nancy found an entire torpedo in the forest just lying there like a beached whale, coated in wet leaves and decorated with glittering snail trails. ‘It’s a fucking torpedo,’ she said. ‘Is it… live?’ I said. I didn’t know how torpedoes worked. Were they like mines? ‘It’s inert,’ she said, suddenly an expert, ‘torpedoes don’t explode on land, everyone knows that.’ She whistled like a plumber surveying a damp patch, ‘He’s a beauty alright. I reckon he weighs at least 600 pounds. 640, I’d say.’ ‘He?’ I said, but Nancy was already straddling it, spanking its rudder like the rump of a prize horse. ‘What’s a torpedo doing in a forest?’ Nancy rolled her eyes. ‘You always ask the most obvious questions, don’t you? Can’t you just enjoy the moment?’ She’d already unzipped her trousers and was touching herself, grinding up against the girth of the weapon and groaning gently. ‘Careful,’ I said. Her orgasm gathered to a scream. She pressed her sweating face on the warhead and fell asleep on top of it. The torpedo precisely matched the length of her body. 12
page 15
To my tired gaze, it seemed as if they were both breathing, Nancy and the torpedo, their chests rising and falling together like unsuspecting ocean waves. I pictured them both in action, underwater, Nancy’s legs wrapped around its speeding shaft, her red eyes fixed like sniper dots on the target ahead, a string of bubbles flying out behind her like a chiffon scarf. Eventually she woke, refreshed and cheerful, patted the torpedo goodbye, hoisted on her backpack and we continued our journey as if nothing had happened. ‘Where are we going?’ she’d ask, every ten minutes or so. ‘We’ve just got to keep moving,’ I’d reply, pointing in some arbitrary direction and striding with purpose, trying to channel the sexual energy of a self-propelled missile, ‘Keep on moving.’ The dread swished around my gums like someone else’s tongue. If I had owned a penis it would’ve secretly shrivelled in my pants. ‘We’ve passed this clearing before,’ Nancy said. ‘Different clearing,’ I said. ‘Those are our footprints from four days ago,’ she said. ‘Different footprints,’ I said. Then we saw the torpedo. Nancy laughed. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s a different torpedo?’ It was getting dark and cold. ‘I love you. I just love you so much,’ I said, as Nancy remounted, hugging it and whispering into its back, her mouth almost kissing the metal. That’s when I lost it. 13

Page Text

View plaintext

Nancy and the Torpedo

Nancy found an entire torpedo in the forest just lying there like a beached whale, coated in wet leaves and decorated with glittering snail trails. ‘It’s a fucking torpedo,’ she said. ‘Is it… live?’ I said. I didn’t know how torpedoes worked. Were they like mines? ‘It’s inert,’ she said, suddenly an expert, ‘torpedoes don’t explode on land, everyone knows that.’ She whistled like a plumber surveying a damp patch, ‘He’s a beauty alright. I reckon he weighs at least 600 pounds. 640, I’d say.’ ‘He?’ I said, but Nancy was already straddling it, spanking its rudder like the rump of a prize horse. ‘What’s a torpedo doing in a forest?’ Nancy rolled her eyes. ‘You always ask the most obvious questions, don’t you? Can’t you just enjoy the moment?’ She’d already unzipped her trousers and was touching herself, grinding up against the girth of the weapon and groaning gently. ‘Careful,’ I said. Her orgasm gathered to a scream. She pressed her sweating face on the warhead and fell asleep on top of it. The torpedo precisely matched the length of her body.

12

read next page

My Bookmarks

Buy this Book
Skip to main content