Darkroom – Saturday


This is the final chapter of a continuing story that begins with Darkroom – Monday.


Steve’s alarm went off at 7:00 on Saturday. It was unusual for him to get up earlier than 9:00 on the weekend, but he had signed up to teach English to immigrants at the library once a month and today was his first day. He rolled out of bed, checked his email. Nothing yet. A shower and breakfast and he was on the road.

Thirty minutes later and he was helping a group of three elderly Indian ladies learn the days of the week in English.

“Sunday” they repeated after him, “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”

It was strange how a single week could completely load a set of ordinary words with new significance.

Dieter was at the gym. His time with Friday, with Marie Marthe, had been tantalizing and brief. She had completely skewed his standards of what he was looking for in a woman. After the girls had gone the night before he had stayed in the basement to clean things up. She had left her dress behind. He wondered if she had a change of clothes, but he guessed that she had probably just walked away naked. He had no doubt she was capable of doing that. He pushed metal against gravity. For the moment, he felt like he was beating it.

Anthony answered the door at 9:00, yawning in his boxers and a t-shirt. It was the landlord. He said he had sold the house. They had 30 days to get out.

Gabe and Justin were blasting each other to pieces on the LAN. They were talking smack on the chat channel between lobbing grenades and calling in air strikes on each other.

Anthony came in with a paper in his hand and some bad news.


English classes were over at noon. Steve had covered the days of the week, the months of the year, the seasons, and counting to twenty with his ladies. They left, one by one with their rides and he stood there on the curb watching them leave, a bag of cooling samosas in his hand from a grateful student.

The mood in the house when he got home was pestilential.

Then the email came.

Hi Boys,

We know about your house. Don’t start packing just yet. One of us knows how to help you guys out. Trust us.

It’s Saturday and today we’re getting the hell out of the dark. Find us at the food court at the mall by the theater at 2:45. We’ll all be within view of each other, but otherwise alone. You may have to take a few risks. Join the club.


Monday, for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday


“We’re early,” Gabe said.

“No we’re not. Your watch is fast. It’s always four minutes fast. We set it while you’re sleeping.” Anthony was in the parking lot with the guys looking at the mall. “It’s kind of late for lunch- maybe there won’t be too many people in there.”

Anthony realized something was wrong before they even opened the glass doors.

“Oh shit.” Steve spoke for all of them. The place was swarming with young women.

Dieter scowled. “Your Monday is one evil little…”

“Watch it.” Steve said, “You’re right though. Evil. It’s opening day of romantic vampire movie 4. Right after the first showing.”

There were long lines of women with the occasional humiliated boyfriend waiting to get into the second showing and crowds of blushing fan girls flowing out of the theater and into the food court.

Dieter smiled. “Well, it looks like I can eliminate 80% of the crowd. Good luck, guys.” And he waded into the chaos.

Justin looked shell shocked. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“They know what we know about them- they’ll be signaling us somehow,” but Gabe was secretly thinking the same thing. How do you find the girl who invented your favorite blowjob?

Justin groaned. “I just know she has incredible tits, but I don’t actually know what they look like. I can’t go around feeling all these girls. I’d get maybe three chances before security would drag me out.”

Anthony took a step forward. “Well, if any of you see a hot girl humping a pillow, let me know.” and he headed for the arcade.

“Screw it,” Steve said and stood up on a table and started waving his arms. “Hey! Monday? How about a clue?” He waited as several hundred amused eyes turned to stare at him. “No? Okay then. Girls, I’m looking for my Cinderella and she has great smelling hair. I need you all to line up here and I’m going to sniff your hair one by one…” He saw some uniforms starting to move in his direction. “Never mind,” he said quickly, getting off the table and plunging into the crowd.


Marie Marthe stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall near the ladies’ restroom, scowling. Two girls standing near her kept up a high pitched irritating chatter, “did you see those guys. I know- the one on the table was cute. Does my hair smell nice? But I know- totally, the blond guy wearing the muscles. Wouldn’t he look tasty in my Cabriolet? Is it true that guys who work out are compensating? Look, he’s coming this way. Shit. I think he looked at me.”

Marie Marthe watched him approach, ümraniye escort devouring him with her eyes. “You’re a beautiful man. I want you to kiss me.”

When Dieter heard her voice, he knew her immediately. She was walking toward him, looking fierce, wearing a dress that was similar to the one he had destroyed the night before. Her braids were gathered in a large bundle that swung at her back. Everything about her seemed to burn, her skin was dark brown, smoking hot, her breasts swayed freely in the front of the dress. Her lips seemed to have their own dance, impatient and mobile. The way she wore the dress, she could have been naked. She transcended her clothing. Her eyes burned into him and spoke of need, impatience, passion. He kissed her deeply, enveloping her in his arms and she grabbed his buttocks and pulled herself into him.

All conversation in the vicinity lapsed into uncomfortable silence as the kiss lasted beyond what was comfortable, or even decent. Dieter’s hands were on the small of her back, mostly, sometimes lower. Finally, breathless, Marie Marthe broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Look into my eyes right now, like you will later. Look into me.”

Dieter did. He let his excitement, his admiration for her, his lust, he let it all show in his face. They felt completely alone. “Yes. You will take me to my room now.”

As they left, a spell lifted from the people that had surrounded them. “How did she do that?” one of the chatterboxes wondered. Someone called out, “Get a room,” lamely, and too late.


Steve had managed to evade security, and was wandering blindly looking for Monday when he saw her sitting at a table behind a bottled sports drink- long blond hair, freckles, an impish smile, and a tight white t-shirt with “Volvo” stretched over small breasts. He stumbled over a chair getting to her, and sat down across the table from her heavily. She was wearing a very distracting miniskirt.

“I’m Thursday,” she said, feeling a little sorry for the way it made Steve wilt. “Monday told me you imagined she looked like me. We thought that could be a little awkward. She doesn’t look like me at all. She’s not that horrible though.” She grinned and paused for a moment, thinking. Then she leaned forward. “I feel a little bad for you, so I’m going to help. She’s wearing what she wore Monday. It’s important to remember that you weren’t ever going to see her in it.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, as he stood, “Anthony is going to be very, very pleased.”

She smiled, “Thank you- I sure hope so.”


Justin wandered hopelessly, not really having any idea of how to find Wednesday. Finally he noticed that the light in the arcade was mixed with ultraviolet. He drifted over in that direction, not sure what to look for, but not having any better ideas. Several of the girls checked him out, the male to female ratio being what it was, but none of them seemed right. One’s hair was too short, one was too tall, one had an infected nose ring. Then he saw something that caught his eye- a slightly goth chick with a little tattoo of the sun under her ear. He approached her, and she smiled at him. He thought he’d take a chance.

“Play a game of Ms. Pac Man?”

“Old school. Sure, why not?”

He led her into the arcade where he could see several people’s clothes glowing. He looked at the girl he had invited, and nothing about her glowed except the “Team Edward” on her black hoodie. Her voice was wrong. It wasn’t her. He played the game with her, but he was distracted and played badly.

“Thanks,” she said, “hey, if you haven’t seen the movie yet, I’ll take you.”

“Thanks, no. Actually I’m trying to find someone. I met her on Wednesday. I don’t really know what she looks like though.”

“Cybersex, huh?”

“What? no- well, sort of,” he sputtered, “I saw your tattoo and I thought it might be you.”

“My sun?”

“Yeah, never mind though.”

“I saw a chick with a wicked sun tattoo on her back a while ago, looked like it was inked in blood. I wanted to get a closer look, but…”

“Where was she? What did she look like? What was she wearing?”

“Eager boy. I don’t know- black hair. She was facing the other way over there. White top cut low in the back.”

“That’s great!” Justin kissed her absently on the cheek, “Thanks!”

“No,” she said, her hand on her cheek, “thank you.”

Justin moved in the direction the girl had pointed, but didn’t see anyone promising. He turned back to the arcade and he felt a jolt as he saw her. She was walking away from him into the arcade, an intricate sun glowing yellow under the arcade lights in the center of her exposed back, framed by long black pigtails tied low on her head. He plowed through the crowd, his eyes fixed on her back. Justin got to her and didn’t wait- he grabbed her around the waist from the back and kissed her in the center of the beautifully airbrushed sun.

“Well now, that’s a strange way to greet someone you’ve never met.” The girl turned to face him. She was Asian, with prominent pendik escort cheekbones and bright eyes.

Justin was stunned. “You’re, um… beautiful.” He stuttered and started again, “My name is…” and stopped, feeling foolish.

“I know- Justin- you feel like you should introduce yourself even though we… lit each other up the other night. My name is Kaiyin Huang, but people who know me best call me…”


“I was going to say ‘Karen’, but people have been calling me ‘Wednesday’ lately too.” She smiled, put her arms around his neck and kissed him deliberately. “So, you want to want to watch the fun?” She nodded to the crowd.

Justin followed her gaze. He could see Anthony still looking, and nearby, Gabe was looking lost. Steve was moving with some purpose, but he clearly hadn’t found Monday yet.

“Let’s grab a table before someone else gets it.” She led him out of the arcade, and he saw the artwork on her back fade to blood red on her skin. The deep V of the back of her blouse pointed at her hypnotically swaying jeans.

“Actually,” Justin said as they sat down, “I think I just want to sit here and look at you. I got the idea that your breasts were your best feature, but I hadn’t seen your face.” Karen looked at him, amused, letting him flounder. “I know this is stupid, but it didn’t occur to me that you’d be Asian.”

“You guys really need to broaden your minds a little. Look over there. That’s Monday in the sweater, Thursday is there at the table, Tuesday is in that line for smoothies over there.”

“Huh. Thursday’s the only white girl. Where are Dieter and Friday? I kind of expected them to stand out…”

“Yeah, well, she snagged him as soon as he was within earshot and grabbed his ass. She kissed him like she thought she could pop her cherry like that.” Karen stopped, then added, thoughtfully, “He just might have popped her cherry with that kiss. They left- probably back to her room.”

“Wow. I turn my back for a few minutes and I miss all the action. Hey- did you really get in trouble with the girls about the glow-in-the-dark stuff?”

Karen grinned, “Sort of. I’ve been on the honor system. I haven’t come since Wednesday night and I’m all kinds of horny. I’m not allowed to use my hands and I’m no good at seam riding. I just want to see Steve’s face when he sees Monday, then I’m going to jump you and hope we don’t get arrested.”


Gabe was passing the smoothie counter for the fourth time, trying to push through the line when the guy behind the counter yelled at him.

“You! With the stupid look on your face. What’s your flavor?”

“I’m not in the line…” Gabe started, then stopped. He went up to the counter. “What?”

“What’s your flavor?”

A smile grew slowly on his face. “You know, I’ve never had a smoothie before…”

“Well then,” a familiar voice said just behind his ear, “this is about to become your favorite smoothie.”

She grabbed his belt at the back of his pants and steered him out of the crush of the crowd, staying behind him. “Close your eyes, turn around and kiss me.”

Even through the taste of the strawberry smoothie on her lips, Gabe could taste the flavor of the girl herself, and a torrent of memories from Tuesday night flooded him, and when she broke the kiss and he opened his eyes he saw a black eyed latina looking back at him, biting her lip.

“What do you think?” she watched him closely.

“I think you kiss like a goddess and you make me feel all wiggly inside.”

“No-what do you think of me- now that you can see me.”

She was wearing a white long sleeved t-shirt over black shorts, looking at him with what he was surprised to see was anxiety. The condensation from her smoothie was dripping off the cup and landing on a black canvas shoe. Her black hair was down and shining. A strand fell in front of her face.

“Tell me your name.”

“I’m Marisol. Well? Tell me.”

“Marisol, that’s a beautiful name. You’re absolutely beautiful. I’m speechless.”

She smiled, finally. “Speechless? Where’s that pretty fucking vocabulary of yours?”

“We’re not engaging in the behavior that triggers…”

“We could be soon.”

Justin took her by the shoulders and pressed her against the wall. He spoke insistently into her ear, his words moving her hair. “I want to spin you around until you’re dizzy, kiss you like a sister, like a girlfriend, like a lover. I want to undress you with my eyes and make you blush. I want to press my lips against your shoulder, your wrist, your neck, your thigh. I want to look at your face, innocent, mischievous, and naughty. I want to see you laugh and concentrate and scream. I want to look in your eyes and watch you come as I say your name.”

Marisol dropped her smoothie.


Steve’s job was easier with Thursday’s hint, but there were still a lot of girls wearing sweaters. He tried to move methodically through the crowd, but the crowd was moving too. When he finally saw her though, there was no doubt. She was sitting at the bostancı escort sushi bar, toying with chopsticks and watching him. The sweater was plaid, neon yellow and pink and the short silk skirt was olive drab. She was Indian, her deep brown eyes watched him with amusement as his expression transformed from shock to admiration. She had long silky black hair that hung straight down.

“My grandmother,” she said, “thinks you’re cute and she’s planning to ‘forget’ the months of the year so you’ll go over them again with her next time you teach.”

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. “Your grandmother? She was in my class this morning? Which one was she?”

“She gave you a gift.”

He remembered the samosas, setting them down in the living room when the guys told him about having to move out. The samosas had disappeared in seconds. Steve moved behind her and touched her. The sweater felt wonderful. He ran his hands down her back and brought his face down to her hair and breathed in. She wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater.

She sighed happily. “My name is Amala.”

“Amala. You’re Indian. I was completely wrong and you didn’t even give me a hint.”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s hard to tell with just your fingers and your tongue. Besides, it made me hot thinking about what you didn’t know.” She turned her face up to him. “Kiss me.” She ran her tongue into his mouth and across his tongue. She took Steve’s hands and pulled them briefly across her breasts in a way that she hoped was somewhat discreet. “Do I taste like curry?”

“Not your mouth. Jury’s out on the rest of you though.”

“Smart boys…” she sighed. “We’ll arrange an experiment. White boys always think Indian girls will taste like curry. And you, if you’re like most white people, are German, Norwegian, and Irish with a pinch of French from a black sheep in the family tree. Do you think about it much?”


“Neither do I. All that international hanky panky made you a very handsome man though.” And she popped a California roll into her mouth. “You want some?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed another pair of chopsticks and struggled with a piece of crab. “I get it,” he said, “chopsticks.”

“Yes, and a cotton ball. You believed we could come up with seven ways to make you come with chopsticks and a cotton ball.”

“It was just a figure of speech…”

“Maybe, but the idea has provided us with many delightful hours of speculation, and a little bit of informal experimentation.” Amala picked up another roll, dipped it in soy sauce and ate it, closing her eyes as the flavor filled her mouth. “We could only come up with four.”

“You actually came up with four ways…”

“Well, sort of. One could possibly result in difficult to explain splinters in sensitive areas. One required three chopsticks- you know, minimum. One only works on women. Sorry. Our best technique would definitely work spectacularly,” she looked at her watch, “but we think it will take about four hours.”

“You’re not planning on…”

“Not today, no. Today I want an orgasm too.”


Anthony found Thursday spinning an empty plastic bottle on her table.

“I thought I might have to go out and set off the alarm on your car to get your attention,” she grinned mischievously, “but you’ve had kind of a bad day, right? My name is Summer.”

“Hi Summer. Nothing bad about this day. You’re amazingly beautiful.”

“Getting an eviction notice didn’t get to you at all?”

“Details. Let me look at you for a while.”

Summer stood and came to his side. “Get a good look. I don’t want you to miss anything.” She turned around slowly, brushing her bottom against his shoulder, putting her hand in his hair. Anthony drank in the sight. She had a heart shaped bottom, just covered by a grey pleated miniskirt and he flashed back to his hands on her in the dark. She sat on his lap facing him and stared into his eyes, oblivious to the mall crowd around them.

“Go ahead. Look at them.”

Anthony glanced around quickly. There were a few people watching curiously. He put them out of his mind and looked down at Summer’s small breasts, inches in front of his chest, nipples poking out at him. She was holding her shoulders back a little and pushing them out. She sighed, sadly. “I’m afraid this is as much action as my girls can get here, and they’re so hard. Is there anything hard on you?”

Anthony let his eyes fall down to his fly and back up to Summer’s eyes. She looked down at his erection under his pants and smiled hungrily.

“I think we’re done here.” He said. Summer slid off his lap and he grunted softly as she dragged her shoe across his erection. “What do you want to do now?”

“You know what I want.” She pointed at ‘Volvo’ on her shirt, “Or do nipples make men illiterate?”

“That’s yes and yes again.”

“Meet me outside. My mommy taught me to go to the bathroom before getting in the car for a long trip.”

Anthony was sitting on a flower planter in the sun a few minutes later when Summer came out of the mall, an odd look on her face.

“I must be totally out of my mind,” she said, “but a girlfriend from my sculpture class is in there- her boyfriend ditched her and she doesn’t have a way to get home. I told her I’d see if I could figure something out for her.”

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