Parts
by S. Salieri

    As far back as Marcia could remember, all her life, all she had ever been to anyone was parts. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, but she didn't know it and it seemed that no one else knew it, either. The only beauty was in parts.

    Paul, Marcia's most recent lover was a tit-man. This was all right with Marcia. She had great tits. Lovely, lush twin globes tipped with dark pink buds for Paul to fondle and kiss. Sometimes, he would squeeze and pinch them, too, or pour honey all over them and slowly, teasingly, suck and lick the honey until her breasts were clean again.

    If her breasts were attached to the rest of a total person, Paul didn't seem to notice. If he made love to Marcia's breasts and her breasts alone, Marcia didn't mind. She knew she was just parts and right now, those parts happened to be sweet, soft, succulent breasts.

    Before Paul, Marcia was an ass. Gene had been her lover then and Gene was an ass-man. He wasn't the first ass-man in Marcia's life. Her father had been an ass-man, too, and he was the person that brought Marcia to the realization that she was only just parts.

    Any minor infraction, a spill at the dinner table, a less than perfect grade on a test, a tear or stain on a dress be it old or new was a reason for Daddy to get at Marcia's ass. At his command, her entire body would be face down upon the bed, naked, but Daddy only had eyes for Marcia's ass. He would start with a gentle touch, feather light on her exposed cheeks, while Marcia tried so hard not to whimper, all the time explaining that what he did he did for her own good. Then, with his hand, or sometimes, with a wide leather belt, Daddy would redden Marcia's ass good. By the time he was finished, his hand would feel wonderfully cool against her painfully flaming ass cheeks when he rubbed them tenderly and sighed. Marcia knew then that to Daddy, she was an ass...but she thought that was all right, because she thought Daddy was an ass, too.

    Gene, though, was an ass-man of a different sort. He didn't appreciate Marcia the ass because she looked so good in a warm pink shade. What Gene liked was the sweet slope of the ass as it curved into thigh. He loved the roundness and firmness. Gene enjoyed nibbling at the taut skin or making Marcia shiver with a gentle caress of fingertips gliding over cheek.

    Sometimes, Marcia would sigh as she fondly remembered Gene's gentle ministrations. Paul wasn't as tender with her tits as Gene had been with her ass. But Paul the tit-man had replaced Gene the ass-man just as Gene had replaced Robert the hair-man. Robert's thing had been to wrap the shining golden coils of Marcia's nearly waist length hair around his wrist and throat, burying his face in it as he slammed into her over and over again.

    And before Robert was Allen. When Marcia was with Allen, she was feet. Feet and only feet. She was arches and heels and ten little toes. Sometimes, Allen liked to see her dressed up all fancy in high red shoes with tall sharp heels. Others, he wanted her totally bare. naked, without even polish to cover her toe nails. Making love with Allen consisted of warm oil all over her bare feet. He would press her feet together and slip his cock between them, into the tiny slippery space between her well oiled arches. Running himself in and out, Allen would stare, fascinated, at her feet, forgetting that she had a face, never once looking into her deep blue eyes.

    So many men, so many parts. Marcia had beautiful parts to satisfy any man. Kevin had preceded Allen. She considered him her "first" love, though she wondered if "love" had ever really come into it, with any of them.

    They met at the beach and Marcia knew immediately that Kevin was attracted to her, or part of her, anyway. She could see it in his eyes as he approached her, dripping wet from his salty swim. He couldn't draw his gaze from her long, slender, evenly tanned legs. That night, in bed, he couldn't keep his hands from them. He grabbed at thigh and calf, his hands scrabbling over the smooth skin of her shapely flesh like tiny crabs over the sandy shore of the beach where they'd met. That was Kevin, the leg-man.

    Now Marcia had a new man, Max, and he was just as interested in her parts as all the others, perhaps even more so. It was Paul who had brought them together. Paul who couldn't focus on anything but her tits for longer than a minute. Paul who was a bad driver even at the best of times and the worst when he was blotto drunk. It used to piss Marcia off and she understood why road rage existed...just so other drivers would have a defense against people like Paul.

    If Paul hadn't tossed back three too many and hadn't been so enthralled with groping Marcia the walking tit, perhaps she wouldn't be with Max now. Maybe she would be with Paul at the piercing parlor getting those nipple rings with the hemetite balls that were supposed to make her breasts prettier and her nipples oh so much more sensitive. But Marcia was with Max...

    Max was very careful with Marcia. With her parts; liver, kidneys, corneas, spleen. Dr. Max Fischer tenderly harvested each part of Marcia. Marcia didn't mind. She'd filled out a donor card. She knew that, after all, she was just parts...in life and death.

© S. Salieri

August 1999 HofP