I met a very crazy but fun woman in LA and we started a torrid affair. Her name was Jolene. I first saw her in a music video she posted online, where she was naked and prancing around the forest, singing about Gaia and how beautiful mother earth is. She had nice breasts and a great ass, and a sweet little brown bush triangle between her legs. Her singing voice was a little flat, and the song itself was absurd. Her whole world view was so different from mine. She believed the trees had spirits and the wind was alive. She was all about cosmic love and saving the planet. I don’t have much interest in any of those subjects, but I was impressed by her outlandish confidence.
I emailed her and she emailed me back. She eventually invited me to her house in Topanga. I pulled up in her driveway and this enormous bird came swanning up to the car and started pecking at the side of my door.
“Hey!” I yelled at him. “You’re scratching my car, bitch!”
“His name’s not Bitch,” Jolene said, coming out. She was wearing hotpants and a braless tank top. I knew what was underneath, from the video, but still I wanted to rip her shirt off and fuck her right there in the driveway.
“This is my emotional support peacock,” she said. “His name is Harold.”
“Emotional support peacock, huh,” I said. And I started reconsidering the whole trip out here to Topanga. It had taken an hour on the fucking 101 and this woman Jolene was more than a little crazy, I could tell that from looking at her eyes. They didn’t focus exactly.
“Do you have any emotional support animals?” she asked, quite earnestly.
“No, but I could use a drink,” I said. “Whatya got?”
“I have organic wine,” she said.
“That’ll do.”
We sat in the back of her house and looked down at a stream. It probably cost a pretty penny, this little cabin in the woods of Topanga. I wondered how she paid for it. Surely not with her singing career. Her naked video had all of 400 hits.
“It’s nice back here,” I said. I was feeling drunk enough to engage her in conversation at last.
“You don’t talk much,” she said. “I like that. I think people talk too much.”
We sat in silence for about another fifteen minutes.
“It’s really pleasant on this patio,” I said, slurping down another glass of that organic wine.
“Yeah,” she said, and she came over and put her head on my shoulder. “I’m glad you came out here to visit me. I don’t get too many visitors.”
“You seem like a woman I could really get along with,” I said. “I’m a little crazy myself you know.”
“Oh, I can sense that,” she said. “I’m an empath. In fact, I have already sensed something about you. But I don’t need to tell you this information because you already know it. Telling you would just be me showing off.”
“Well, now you’ve got to tell me, now that you brought it up,” I said.
“OK,” she said. “You are really angry at your Dad, and you sometimes think about getting in your car and driving all the way…where….oh yeah, Colorado…and confronting him about some things. But you never do. It’s just a fantasy.”
“You’re good,” I said. “How much do I owe you?”
“No charge,” she said. “I mean, how can people charge for telling you about things you already know? I told you, it’s just showing off.”
“Yeah, you’re a real show off,” I said. “Like in your video. You were showing it all off.”
“Oh that,” she laughed. “My friend Henrietta talked me into doing it naked. I wanted to wear a little fig leaf or something.”
“No, Henrietta was right,” I assured her. “You look pretty damn good naked.”
“You probably want to see it for yourself in person,” she said. “I guess that’s why you drove all the way out here.”
“No, no,” I said. “If you’re an empath like you say you are, then you know that’s not true. You know why I drove out here.”
“Because you think I’m interesting,” she said, quite rightly. “And most people you don’t find very interesting.”
“Bullseye,” I said.
Then she looked at me, with those wide hippie eyes. Maybe she was on some kind of drugs. I’m sure she was taking some medication for her strange personality. But I really liked that look in her eyes. Yes, it was crazy, but it was so damn sweet. I gave her a big kiss and she kissed me back real sweetly.
“Harold likes to watch us,” she said, pointing to the bird.
She was right. He was paying close attention to us now that we were making out.
“He likes to watch me make love,” she said. “He’s a voyeur.”
“Oh boy,” I said. “This is turning out to be an interesting day.”
We all three went into her bedroom, me, her and the peacock.
“Tie me up,” she said, handing me a rope. “Pretend that I’m your prisoner.”
“No,” I said. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s what I like,” she said.
“What about Harold,” I objected. “Isn’t he protective?”
“No,” she said. “He likes to see me tied up.”
So I tied her arms to either side of the bed and I started playing along with her fantasy. She asked me things and I improvised answers.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” she said. “What are you going to do to me? Are you going to rape me?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Are you going to rip my clothes off me?” she whined.
“You bet I am,” I said.
There was pause.
“When?” she asked finally.
“When I feel like it,” I said. “I’m in charge here, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I like looking at you like this,” I said.
She was looking real sweet in those short shorts and that tank top. I put my hand on her leg and started working my way up.
“You look real nice,” I said. “I’m glad I kidnapped you and brought you back here and tied you up in my cabin. And now, I’m going to pull those shorts off.”
“Oh please don’t,” she whined, but she was helping me by lifting her butt up so I could whip them right off.
“Now I’m going to take off those panties,” I said.
“Oh no, not my panties, please no,” she said.
And I slowly pulled them down and revealed her pussy. It looked even better in person than it did in the video.
“And now I’m going to touch that pussy of yours,” I said.
“Oh please don’t touch it, sir,” she said. “Please don’t.”
I started fingering her and she started squirming while begging me to stop. I am pretty sure she had herself a few orgasms there.
I pulled my pants and briefs off. My dick was hard.
“And now I’m going to fuck you,” I said.
“Please don’t,” she said. “Please don’t put that big dick inside me. It’s going to hurt me.”
“No, it’s going to make you feel good,” I said. “Don’t fight it. Just surrender to me.”
“Alright,” she said. “I surrender. Go ahead, put it in me.”
And I fucked her real slow and gentle and nice.
“Harder harder harder!” she screamed.
I looked over at the peacock. He was glaring at me. Like he was pissed at me for not fucking her hard enough. Like he was going to peck my eyes out if I didn’t fuck a little harder. So I started fucking her a little harder, and the bird looked satisfied.
“That’s it,” she said. “That’s it. Oh yeah! Fuck me Daddy! Fuck me! Come in me! Go on!”
I came in her like crazy. Then I untied her and we lay there holding each other. The peacock climbed onto the bed and cuddled up with us.
“Harold likes you,” she said. “I like you.”
“I like you too, Jolene,” I said. “Maybe we can try it without the ropes and scenarios next time.”
“Sure,” she said. “We could try it.”
“And without the peacock?” I said.
“Well, let’s not go that far,” she laughed. “I need my emotional support peacock at all times.”
“OK honey,” I said, and I stroked her long silky hair.
Damn, I was falling for this skinny crazy girl. I was falling hard.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said, reading my mind, because she was an empath. “You won’t get hurt, and neither will I. This will all be good. I promise you, and so does Harold.”
Harold looked at me. He nodded, like he understood what that crazy girl had just said. And then, I thought I heard his voice.
“I promise,” he said.
“Holy shit!”
I jumped out of the bed.
“He can talk!”
“Of course he can,” she said. “He’s magic.”
“My God! We could make a million dollars. We could take him on a worldwide tour. Harold the Talking Peacock.”
“Why would we want to do that?” she said. “We don’t need money. My husband was very rich. He left me millions.”
“Your husband?”
“Yeah. Harold. He died two years ago.”
“Your husband’s name was Harold, too?” I said.
“Yeah,” she said. “I got the peacock a few months after he died. I was very sad. But I think Harold is reincarnated in the peacock. That’s why I named him Harold.”
“Reincarnation, huh?”
“There is more to heaven and earth…” said the peacock, then he added real professorial and droll, “Et cetera.”
At least I think he did. Maybe she had put some kind of hallucinogen in that organic wine. I wasn’t sure.
“I get it,” I said. “Your husband can’t bang you any more, because he’s a peacock. And that would be gross, getting fucked by a bird. So instead he does the next best thing, watching you get banged. Is that it?”
“More or less,” she said. “He really likes to watch.”
“And what about the ropes,” I asked. “Is that something Harold used to like…back when he was a man and not a bird.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I met him in Fet World.”
“I think I understand,” I said. “So really, it’s not quite accurate to call this bird an emotional support peacock, is it. I mean, it seems to me he’s more of a cuckold, dom, slave master, dead husband and/or ghost peacock.”
“But he gives me great emotional support.”
“Alright,” I said. “But you know, a triangle is not a stable geometry. At some point you’re going to have to choose between me and the bird.”
“At some point, probably,” she agreed. “But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?”
She looked at me with those round crazy eyes, so adorable that I just about forgot about the talking emotional support peacock who was lying next to us, as I started kissing her and warming her up for an enthusiastic round two.
“Yeah, baby, eat that sweet pussy,” I heard a voice say as I put my face in her sexy crotch. It was a deep voice. I don’t think it was her voice. It was the bird’s voice, or her late husband Harold’s voice. I didn’t know. The pussy tasted good.
She might be crazy. I might be crazy. The whole wide world might be crazy. I don’t know.
But the pussy tasted fantastic.
