The Dentist's Date, part 2
Feb. 27th, 2009 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisThe Joker moved to a door that he’d yet to open to show Mary the rest of his apartment. Opening it, he made a broad gesture of presentation. “The boudoir! Time for the culmination of our festive Date Night. Oh yes! It’s time to cut the militaristic dentist down to size, time to bring her back to the level on which the ressst of humaniteee finds itself: rock fucking bottom. Now. Are you going to come over here and join me willingly in my comfy bungalow of love, or am I going to have to come over there and fetch you?”
Mary didn’t move. “Have it your way, Niblet.”
The Joker trudged across his apartment and reached around to the back of Mary’s head, ripping the sticks that held her hair tightly in place out and throwing them to the floor. Her luxurious hair tumbled down past her shoulders and down to her hips. The Joker admired this loveliness for a moment before grabbing a handful and wrapping it around his hand. “Let’s see if this is so easy, even a caveman can do it. I hear that’s how they started out every date night.”
Tugging hard, the Joker began walking back toward the bedroom. Mary lost her balance and felt herself falling, but she never hit the floor because the Joker had buoyed her up by her hair. She was being dragged across the floor by her hair. Flailing and screaming, Mary Romello began to fight back, pulling against the Joker, striking him, trying to bite him, and scratching him where she could. He seemed oblivious to her protestations, continuing to pull her along, humming merrily. Then he stopped.
“Wait a minute. I forgot! We can have music while we roll, roll, roll in zee hay!” With his free hand, the Joker pulled out Mary’s iPod. “I’m sure there will be all manner of music we can enjoy in this handy-dandy piece of technologeee.”
Once they were in the bedroom, the Joker tossed Mary to the floor and closed the door with his foot, his attention fully on the iPod. While he studied the iPod, Mary studied the Joker’s bedroom. It was appalling to she who worshiped order above all else. Clothing was piled everywhere, as were hundreds of hundred-dollar bills. His bed was unmade and not very fresh at all. The night stand was covered with old prescription bottles and Aquafina water bottles. Several paper-back books were strewn on the table and the floor around it. Mary read some of the titles: The Stand by Stephen King, How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, and The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy: and other Stories by Tim Burton.
“Insomnia,” the Joker said. Mary looked up at him with a questioning face. “I have in-som-nee-ah. So I read. And think. And pace. You have quite a collection of tunes here, Dr. Romello. Oh, let’s be done with the niceties, shall we? I’ll just call you Mary, if I call you anything at all. Get your bony ass up on the bed while I hook your iPod up to my stereo.”
As Mary eased herself onto the edge of the Joker’s bed, she said, “It’s illegal, you know, what you’re doing here. Kidnap. Rape. It’s against the law.”
“Do you know what I have to say about the law, Mary?” The Joker turned the volume dial on his stereo just in time enough to blast Keith Flint’s voice over his speakers. From the Prodigy’s song ‘Their Law,’ Keith growled, “Fuck them and their law,” and his statement was supported by a hard-driving techno melody. The Joker looked over his shoulder at Mary and waggled his painted eyebrows at her as he licked his lips.
He turned slowly and shed his purple overcoat and green vest, never diverting his eyes from Mary’s. The song ended, bleeding into the next tune, “Make a Circuit with Me,” by the Polecats. While the Joker continued to disrobe, he sang along, obviously singing to Mary.
“A sweet romance is not for me, I need – electricitee. If you wanna make me flip, hit me with a microchip. I’ll be your diode, cathode, electrode overload, generator, oscillator: make a circuit with me.”
He was down to his argyle socks and happy-face boxer shorts by the time this song was finished and the next had begun, “Metamorphosis” by Delerium. Mary found her eyes coursing over the Clown Prince’s body. He was surprisingly muscular in a wiry sort of way. A little on the thin side, the Joker’s ribs were obvious, but not in such a way that made him unattractive. No, he was very attractive, very sexual. Blonde hair swirled lightly on his chest and down his belly, creating a treasure trail that disappeared teasingly behind the repetitive happy faces that made up his boxers. The Joker noticed Mary’s studious gaze and smiled.
“Hmmmmmm,” the Joker purred, crawling onto the bed to position himself behind Mary. “Perrrfect fucking music, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary!” The Joker whispered in her ear as he wrapped one arm around her neck, the other around her waist. Mary could smell the Joker’s muskiness and found it to be a wholly pleasant aroma. In spite of herself, Mary felt moisture gather between her legs and she shifted her weight to ease the delicious discomfort she was beginning to feel. “Tell me you don’t like what I’m doing and I’ll quit. But be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying and I’ll kill you before I fuck you. So tell me. Tell me you don’t like it.”
“I…..I can’t. God help me, I can’t,” Mary cried.
“Sh…Hush, now.” The Joker placed his face against Mary’s and licked the tears from her cheeks. He then kissed her cheeks, making his way to her lips, which he kissed with a lingering warmth that spread throughout Mary’s body. Mary felt his tongue touch the tip of hers and she melted against him. He pulled away from her and began kissing her lightly all over her face – her eyelids, the corners of her mouth, her nose and cheeks – everywhere. It was unbelievably sexy and strangely sweet. Mary felt her wetness spread to her thighs and she just knew that her pants showed evidence of her arousal now. But the Joker seemed not to take notice or, if he did, he just didn’t care. His mission at the moment was to make love to Mary’s face, which he did with a maddening languor. “You like that, don’t you, sugar?” The Joker murmured. “You like being seduced. Tell me.”
“I do. I like being seduced,” Mary admitted, her voice shaky with desire. The scent of him had enveloped her. All she could smell was the Joker’s musk and its hint of anticipated sexuality. She wanted him desperately now.
“Show me how much you like it. Take off your clothes and let me see you.” The Joker pulled her from the bed and turned her around to face him as he sat back on the rumpled sheet and blanket. “Go ahead then, creamsicle, do it for me.”
Mary unbuttoned her suit with trembling fingers. Her attire accented the business side of Dr. Romello while desexualizing her. Once she had the business uniform off, the business-only dentist was transformed into a full-blooded, curvy, gorgeous Italian woman. Her abundant hair spread out from her head and curled around her breasts and ample hips. The hair between her legs, just as dark as her mane, glistened with dew drops from Mary’s arousal.
“My Venus. My Aphrodite,” the Joker said, his voice low and husky with lust. He removed the last of his clothing to reveal his cock, fully erect and gorged with the blood of desire. Nestled in a patch of soft blonde hair, it stood out from him, proud and eager for the job ahead. “Come here and sit on my lap.”
Mary walked over to the Joker and sat down on his bare thigh. She could feel his hardness resting against her own thigh. It felt good. “Touch it. I know you want to.” Shy at first, Mary averted her eyes and brushed her fingers along the Joker’s penis. His skin was soft and burning hot, and it moved easily along the constant hardness underneath. “You want this inside you, don’t you?” He asked and she nodded silently. “You’re wet enough, but I’m not. Lick-k me. Let’s see what a dentist’s mouth can do to an anarchist’s cock.”
Catching herself smiling, Mary slid off the Joker’s lap to the floor between his legs. She took him in hand, exploring his length and breadth with her deft fingers. She looked up at him and met his kohl-stained gaze, which had taken on a dangerously focused expression. Without breaking their stare, Mary opened her mouth and kissed the tip of the Joker’s penis. She heard his breath catch as she began to lick the underside of his head. The Joker leaned back on the bed and groaned, and Mary felt the groan become a growl that rumbled in the Joker’s sculpted chest. As she took the head of his cock into her mouth, Mary slid her hands up the Joker’s thighs, then further to his lower belly, which she massaged while she took him in deeper and deeper into her mouth. The Joker tasted unbelievable, his salty flesh corresponding wonderfully with the sweet muskiness of his pre-cum. Mary found herself sucking and licking at him furiously just to taste more of him.
“Aaaahh-ta-ta-ta,” the Joker said with some effort and he took her away from her enthusiastic work, pulling her up the length of his sinewy body so that she rested upon him, her face a mere hair away from his. He quickly licked his lips and his tongue touched her lips in the process. “Let’s not end our moment too soon, Buttercup.”
He held her there for a few minutes, studying her face. Then he began again with the small kisses on Mary’s eyes, nose, cheeks and, eventually, her mouth. The kisses seemed to last forever. Mary was quivering with arousal by the time she felt the Joker move one hand down to his cock and the other to her dripping pussy. Stroking her gently with his fingers and cock, the Joker eventually began to press in, sliding deep inside Mary with no resistance at all. They both moaned with pleasure at the sensation.
Mary sat up, pressing her weight down on the Joker’s shaft. Wiggling her hips a little to get the full effect of him inside her, Mary gathered her legs under her and, straddling the Clown Prince, he began to move up and down the length of the Joker’s cock. While she rode him, the Joker reached up and kneaded Mary’s breasts in his hands.
“Prettyprettypretty…” the Joker chanted. “Pretty Mary-quite-contrary with her pretty tits bouncing in my hands. Prettyprettyprettypretty, oh I could just eat you up. Sop you up with a biscuit, my pretty-pretty Mary.”
The faster Mary moved on him, the faster the Joker’s litany of worship became. It got to the point where the Joker’s mantra became incomprehensible as he neared climax. Mary came explosively, then came again, and again. Each one seemed more powerful than the one before it until her orgasms reached a cadence that forced Mary to scream out and, when she did, the Joker grunted roughly, and pulled her bucking hips down onto him. He began to shoot long rivulets of hot cum deep inside Mary as he held her hips still, his fingers digging into her skin and bruising her. She didn’t care, though. She was out of her mind with carnal joy, basking in the wet heat shared with her captor-lover. Once the Joker eased his grip, Mary bent over and kissed him gently, the kiss of afterglow. He returned it, smiling a mischievous smile.
“Now, that was not the action of a captive soul,” he chided.
“More like a captivated soul,” she said playfully, nipping him on the nose.
“So are we engaged now in that mysterious human ritual commonly referred to as pil-low talk-k?” he drawled, moving Mary off him when he became limp enough to fall out of her.
“Sure,” she laughed. “I guess we are.”
“Welllll….in that case, do you wanna know how I got these scarrrs?”
Mary nodded, resting her head in her right hand while she let her left hand explore the Joker’s downy blonde hair that covered his chest. The Joker turned over on his side to face her, his face unreadable. “I was just a tot of around 9 or so, and I was the only child of a mad-woman. She had once been a dentist, just..like..you, but I don’t remember her as anything but the woman who beat me, screamed at me, railed against my very existennnce. One day, Ma decided that I hadn’t been brushing the way I should, so she dragged me down to the basement and threw me, kicking and screaming, into her special chairrrr.
“’Open your goddamned mouth, you little prick,’ she said to me. And I opened. You didn’t disobey Ma, no neverrr. ‘Let me see your nasty little teeth.’
“She examined my mouth, pricking my gums with her shiny, sharp little tools, scraping the bone and studying any tiny bit of plaque she found. She forced her fingers in my mouth, shoving them under my tongue and stretching my lips to the point of cracking so she could reach my back teeth and gums. ‘You’ve been eating candy again at school, haven’t you, you disobedient piece of shit? I can see it between your teeth and caught in your tonsils. All you ever do is make messes and balk my order!’ Her actions got more frenzied as she grabbed hold of the dental floss and set to work on my teeth and gums. There was nothing gentle about the way she cleaned your teeth, good ole Ma. Every time she’d insert the floss between my teeth, she’d push the filament far beyond my gum line, cutting me deep each time. By the time Ma was finished with just three teeth, my mouth would be so full of blood, she’d have to stop to have me spit and rinse, spit-t and rinssse…”
The Joker gave a pinched expression, as though he were remembering his account like it happened just yesterday. “My mother, the dentist, had run through two full containerrrs of floss by the time she was finished with me. I knew what was coming next and moved to get away, but she was fasterrr and biggerrrr than her spare little wisp of a son. ‘You’ve got a cavity,’ she said, the tears in her voice making my skin crawl with the inevitabiliteee of it all. ‘You need a filling.’
“’No Ma, please no,’ and I worked to free myself. I’d gotten fillings from Ma before. I never wanted another.
“’Shut up, you fucker. I can see you won’t be still, so it’s the cuffs again.’ And Ma began to secure me to the chair, using blood pressure cuffs she’d equipped the chair with, to insure my…cooperationnn… Still, I fought. Every time she’d come at me with the drill, I’d thrash my head around, bouncing it off the chair to dodge Ma’s torture tools. ‘Damn you! I’ll make you be still, you’ll see.’ And she pulled off long swaths of floss, which she twirled between her fingers. Then Ma put the floss in my mouth like a gag and tied my head to the chair. The more I fought to keep away from her drill, the deeper the floss cut into the corners of my mouth. By the time Ma was finished with my filling, I was passed out from blood loss.
“I woke up the next day in the hospital. A social worker there told me I might be going to a foster home, but that turned out to be a lie. I went right back to Ma, who had her way with me for two more years. I healed badly, thanks to my subsequent visits to her dental exam room, so the scar tissue on my face became a permanent smiiiile.” And the Joker grinned widely, taking a finger to draw a big smile in front of his face.
Mary was in tears. “I am so sorry.”
“Yes, well…” The Joker’s tongue darted out to touch the edge of his scarred mouth. “Sometimes sorry just doesn’t cut it, does it-t, Doggy Breath?”
“Wh-what?”
“Oh, you hearrrd-d me. You’re inches away from me, how could you not hear me?”
A deadly silence developed between them. All that Mary could hear was “In Between Days” by the Cure. It was the last sound she heard as the Joker reached over with both hands, grabbed her head, and snapped it violently to the left, breaking her neck and spinal cord.
The Joker lay there for a moment, staring at Mary’s pretty face and the single teardrop that fell from her right eye onto the bridge of her nose. He drew closer and picked the tear up with his tongue. She had been a delicious date and it was a shame she had to die. But the Joker was an agent of chaos and Dr. Mary Romello was a soldier in the army of order. It would have never worked out.
Picking up a small knife from his mess of a night table, the Joker placed it in the corner of Mary’s mouth, slicing upward. The knife was very sharp and it slid through her flesh like it was butter. He did the same with the other side of her mouth, then he took red face paint and drew a wide smile on Mary’s face. Sitting her up in bed, the Joker moved to the adjacent bathroom and returned with several strands of floss. He took the floss and, positioning it in Mary’s newfound smile, he pulled it up and made a pretty bow of it at the top of her head. He then dressed her in nothing but a dental lab coat and her sensible shoes, and took her to the living room. Her iPod was still going strong in the bedroom, now playing “We Care A Lot” by Faith No More.
“Well, Mary, you did have good taste in music, despite your crappy look on life. How does something like that happen? Do you mind if I keep your iPod, Mary, hm? You won’t be needing it anymore. Oh, thank you, Dr. Romello, you’re so kiiind.”
The returned to the bedroom and got dressed. Once more clad in his dandy purple suit, he grabbed the iPod, then jounced back to the living room and picked up Mary’s body. He made his way out to her SUV. He threw her in the back, then bounced into the driver’s seat. “Oh, we can’t roll without tunezzz, can we Mary?” he asked the smiling corpse behind him. Popping the iPod in, the Joker began to hum along to “Pretty When You Cry” by VAST. Very appropriate, he thought, still savouring the teardrop on his tongue.
As he drove to the Wayne Manor, the Joker sang along,
“I didn’t want to hurt you baby
I didn’t want to hurt you
I didn’t want to hurt you
But you’re pretty when you cry
I didn’t want to fuck you baby
I didn’t want to fuck you
I didn’t want to fuck you
But you’re pretty when you’re mine
I didn’t really love you
I didn’t really love you
But I’m pretty when I lie
You hurt me baby
I hurt you baby
If you knew how much I love you, you would run away
But when I treat you bad, it only makes you want to stay.”
Bruce would love his new gift, all wrapped up in a bow, the Joker just knew. And he’d wonder why the Joker chose a dentist with a small practice in the Gotham suburbs for Date Night. Let him wonder. It was none of his goddamned business anyway. All that mattered was the frustration the Joker’s actions would bring to the “caped crusader” and his warped sense of order and justice. As Keith Flint so aptly put it: “Fuck them and their law.”
By the time the Joker parked the Lincoln Navigator at the gates of Wayne Manor, and disappeared into the shadows to enjoy the cool Gotham night, he was already contemplating the delicious possibilities of his next Date Night. Skipping down the sidewalk that led into city, he juggled the iPod from one gloved hand to the other as he looked for an open shop that might carry ear buds. Across the street was a record store, one of those Indy stores that carried anything and everything just to keep afloat in a world where record stores were quickly becoming a thing of the past. Dancing along to music he couldn’t hear, the Joker spied a young lady who just seemed to naturally embody that old Dead Milkmen tune, “Punk Rock Girl.”
Grinning wickedly, the Joker crossed the street, oblivious to the oncoming traffic and the blatting horns of angry drivers. He opened the door to the record store in hopes of finding ear buds and meeting the next lucky lady who would share with the Joker the singular experience he liked to call Date Night.
©Tracy Angelina Evans
Darth Shriek
27 February, 2009
In memory of Heath Ledger, Prince Conor and the one and only Joker
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Date: 2009-02-28 01:13 am (UTC)*purr*
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Date: 2009-02-28 03:39 am (UTC)I really, really enjoy these date stories. If they were a fruit, they would plums because plums are my favorite...or cantaloupe. Your interpretation of the Joker makes me squelch...happily. Oh so happily.
Which brings you back to marrying me...
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Date: 2009-02-28 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 03:45 am (UTC)"They're hawt."
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Date: 2009-03-05 05:17 am (UTC)(Honestly, I'd see the movie if I'd liked the first one, but--and this makes me even more unpopular with my already unpopular opinions--I didn't like Heath Ledger before and I don't think I'd like him in this, either. *shrugs without anything else useful to say* BUT I do love your stories, and your writing is fantastic, so KEEP writing them! I command thee!)
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Date: 2009-03-05 05:38 am (UTC)And thank you so much for your kind words on my writing. I haven't written fanfiction in almost a decade and I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to write anyone other than Darth Maul. I've so far been happy with what's come out, but I think it's just my latent sociopath clawing to the surface for a well-deserved breath of fresh air. ::snicker::
Always a Pleasure Reading Another Date Night fic
Date: 2009-03-14 05:18 pm (UTC)I think the doctor's choice in music is her way of letting go without truly disrupting her environment. Any rebellious tendency she might have in the back of her mind is located on that little tiny iPod in the form of a song leaving her rigidly controled world intact.
Wayne just doesn't understand that when Joker leaves a dead body on his doorstep it's a gift from the heart like when my cat leaves me a dead rat. Aww, Bruce should show some gratitude. It's the thought that counts.
Me thinks this next date will give him a run for his money. I do, I do. Can't wait. I like the girls who surprise the Joker. I mean, what can you do to surprise the man who's seen everything?
Re: Always a Pleasure Reading Another <i>Date Night</i> fic
Date: 2009-03-14 08:17 pm (UTC)