Free House of Holes by Nicholson Baker Page B

having three Italian airplane pilots in uniform shoot their comeloads onto your belly while you cup your clitoris with a wooden spoon.”
    “They don’t necessarily have to be Italian,” Rhumpa said. “And they can be race-car drivers if that’s easier.”
    “Because of your interest in pilots, we thought you might be a good person to fly one of our pornsucker ships.”
    Rhumpa asked what a pornsucker ship was, and he explained. “It’s an airplane that flies around sucking up bad porn from cities.”
    “Why?”
    “Because bad porn is bad porn—it’s depressing and drowns out good porn. We store it, letting objectionable content settle out. The less porn there is overall, the more likely people are to come to the House of Holes.”
    “How sordid,” Rhumpa said. “I don’t want to spend time doing that.”
    “Oh? It says here that you’d definitely like to steer an airplane with your crotch.”
    “I do believe you’ve got the wrong clipboard,” Rhumpa said.
    “I don’t think so,” Daggett said, a trifle testily.
    Rhumpa asked him if she was a prisoner or a guest.
    “Do you want to be here?”
    “I’m not sure,” said Rhumpa.
    “If you do, then you’re a guest,” said Daggett.
    He looked at his notes again, and then at her. He seemed a little hesitant.
    Rhumpa asked him, “Are you a guest, too?”
    “Yes, but I’m on an intensive work-study program because I accumulated a great deal of debt and they assigned me to do intake.”
    “I see,” Rhumpa said.
    He changed his tone. “You’re very pretty,” he said, leaning forward. “You have a lovely spicy smell. Excuse me.” He sneezed.
    “What else does it say on your clipboard?”
    “It says you’d like to dance in a solo porn video and hold your pussy folds open with your hands, and then you’d like to watch nine men watching your video and getting completely out of control.”
    “Hm, is that so?”
    He tapped his finger on the page. “I’m just going by what it says.”
    “Well—I do like the idea of men being out of control at the sight of me.”
    “Ah.”
    “But I don’t want anybody to watch me making the video.”
    “Of course. You can do it in your hotel room. I’ll take you there now.”
    They rose, and Daggett led her to an elevator and down several hallways and then they came to a catwalk. “Don’t be worried,” Daggett said. “We’re going through a visual privation area. You’ll probably hear some shouting. The men are Deprivos. They haven’t been able to see nude breasts in any form for three full weeks. This is the last day of their treatment, and they’re in pretty sorry shape.”
    Below was a crowd of men looking up at her. “Take off the top, baby!” they called. “Show us the titties! Flash them, honey, just for a second! Shake them, jiggle them, squeeze them together!”
    Finally, Daggett exploded. “For gosh sakes, men, Rhumpa’s not going to show off her titties right here! They’re way too hot for that. Have some sense. If you want to see her nude you’ll have to go to one of the booths in the boothbay after you get out of Deprivo. Check channel six, where, if we’re lucky, she’ll be doing the homemade amateur nasty for us and showing us her hot fat warblers. Right, Rhumpa?”
    Rhumpa shrugged, a little nervous. “Maybe.”
    “And congratulations, men, on making it through the program.” That quieted them down, and Rhumpa and Daggett passed on without incident.
    They turned down a hall and reached Rhumpa’s room, number 715. Daggett opened the door for her and ushered her in. He set the bag down on the bed, massaging his stiff fingers.
    “What’s in your bag?” Rhumpa asked.
    “This is the bag of bras. Aside from intake, my job is to carry this bag on my back and help women choose a new bra for their time in the House of Holes.”
    “That must be fun for you,” Rhumpa said.
    He nodded. “Yes and no. The bag is a burden to me at times, because of the conditions of my