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Mitigated Filth

By Fenner Jekyll


A porn-star embarks on a quest to find the only man who ever fulfilled her. A theme-park princess goes commando at the Grand Parade. A strip-club customer gets luckier than he can handle. A slim young woman yearns for wide hips and laugh-lines. A bride climaxes at the altar as she makes her vows. A handsome guy acts as a lure for his lesbian friend. A housewife arranges a threesome with a twist. A boho Englishwoman is confronted by her ex-lover's son. A frustrated, sleepless husband listens to girl-on-girl action in the upstairs apartment.

In real life, sex is never insignificant. It's never just sex . In the crafted fictions that comprise Mitigated Filth, sex features as an expression of love, of anger, of risk, of hilarity, of trust or mistrust, of admiration or condescension, of sincerity or of the lack of it. Fenner Jekyll writes erotic fiction that's funny, passionate, dirty, emotional and untidily spontaneous -- pretty much like actual sex, in fact.



White Wedding

I knew my husband ten years before we got married, but the first time he ever made me climax was in the church on our wedding day. And even then he had help.

I guess I earned a reputation in high school, and I deserved it. I never promised what I wasn't prepared to deliver, and I was prepared to deliver regularly and over a wide catchment area. I was aware what the other girls thought of me and I didn't give a damn. But later, when I went to college on the other side of the country, I thought it would be fun to act the Hicksville virgin, at least in public. That was my first self-reinvention. I've done it a few times since and it's always a blast.

Anyhow, I met Kendall at a freshman icebreaker, and he asked me out to a movie. At the end of the evening I was ready with my not-on-a-first-date defense, but his move never came. Not that time, not the next time, not even the time after that. Come the fourth date I was beginning to think he might be a cross-country skier, but in the car outside my sorority house he at last made a reassuring and inexpert lunge for my tits. I brushed him off like lint and acted shocked, after which he apologized at tedious length and went on to reassure me that he respected my morals and, indeed, shared them, and that he would never force himself on me in any way that made me feel uncomfortable.

By this time we were three weeks into the academic year, and I had already fucked my English professor who was racked with guilt, believing he had taken my virginity. Also, I was a couple of sessions into an affair with an exchange student from Brazil; and I had plans to get laid by two of the larger members of the football team. So it amused me to let Kendall believe that I was an ethically-constrained celibate with stapled-together knees. Resistance was easy, because I didn't dig him in the slightest. If it weren't for the fact that his father owned most of Idaho, I wouldn't have given him the time of day. As it was, he bombarded me with expensive wine and resalable jewelry, and I jerked him off in the Bronco with beautifully judged faux clumsiness.

And so it continued throughout our college years and beyond. At his father's bidding, Kendall got a commission in the Marines after he was graduated, and our monthly dates became twice-yearly, if that. I was in New York working for a theatrical agency organizing US tours for European shows. Kendall would call me out of the blue and we'd hook up for dinner.

"Suze," he said, over preprandial martinis, "you look great--just great."

"Why, thank you, Kendall. You look pretty fine yourself." Which wasn't a total lie. The officer's uniform lent his boiled-potato wholesomeness a measure of clean-cut, if unsophisticated, integrity. Unfortunately that was a complete turn-off for me, being the kind of girl who prefers degenerate, careless squalor--but I wasn't there for sexual thrills. Dinner with Kendall invariably provided more material compensations.

"So--is there anyone special in your life these days, Suze?"

"Oh, you know--one or two cute guys at work have asked me out, but I'm not into that dating scene. Boring old me, right?"

Kendall smiled, both relieved and delighted. "I have to tell you again, Suze, how much I respect you for sticking to your principles when you must be so surrounded by temptation. I know those artistic types. They don't give much thought to the moral aspect--am I right?"

"Well," I said, toying with a corner of the tablecloth, "I don't like to badmouth my colleagues but, yes, I guess they could show a little more self-discipline."

This was certainly true of the British actor I'd been with the previous night. He so lacked discipline that he begged me to provide him some, and he even came equipped with a leather crop for the purpose.

"I look at you, Suze--so beautiful, so smart, so totally the modern metropolitan woman--and to me you represent everything that could be great about this country, if it weren't for the decadent, godless element who have a death-grip on the throat of our sacred cows."

"Oh, Kendall. Such words."

He reached into his pocket. "I have something for you. Just a small token of my eternal esteem."

Emerald earrings. Three grand absolute minimum, even at trade prices. If he also ordered vintage wine, I might surprise him with a gauche blow. I liked to think he was getting value for money.

"Kendall, they're gorgeous. I really can't let you..."

"It's my pleasure," he said, taking my hand. "Listen--in three years, God willing, I'll be through with the Marines. It'd sure make me happy to think that there'll be a possibility then of..."

"Of what, Kendall?"

"Well, of a more formal arrangement."

Downcast, I pushed the jewelry box back across the tablecloth. "Kendall--if my accepting this gift represents some sort of advance payment on my future..."

"No! No! Good Lord, no--I'm sorry. I'm such a clumsy idiot. Forgive me. Please--take them."

The hell with the blow-job. He'd be happy with flashed stocking tops and a squeeze of the cock through his precision-pressed uniform pants.