Free Eat My Heart Out by Zoe Pilger Page A

rack; it was serrated.
    â€˜Hey,’ said Vic, moving round the other side of the breakfast bar. ‘That’s dangerous.’
    â€˜Where is this guinea fowl ?’ I said in a baby voice. ‘Sorry it’s the time of the month so you won’t be able to fuck her like you want to. Or maybe you’re not squeamish at all?’
    Vic had his hands flat on the counter. ‘Please Ann-Marie. Put that down.’
    I swiped it through the air.
    He said very slowly: ‘The guinea fowl is not a woman. It is for the food blog. Jan read somewhere that food photographers used to put tampons in a bowl of water and then microwave them. They tuck the tampons in the bird’s cavity. It means they keep on steaming. It looks good.’
    â€˜And who the fuck is Jan?’ I said.
    â€˜The operator who you met. She’s the creative director of the blog.’
    â€˜Sure.’
    The rising sun behind him made him look worse and worse, illuminating every flaw on his face.
    Vic straightened up. ‘It’s a fact. They can’t do it on commercial ad campaigns now but the internet doesn’t have to comply with the Trade Descriptions Act. They can do whatever the fuck they like.’
    I pulled open the fridge. There was a hump, wrapped in tinfoil. I tore at it. Meat. I ripped off a leg.
    â€˜Stop!’ Vic screamed. ‘Stop it, please!’ He got the broom and jabbed the guinea fowl out of my hands. He hauled me out the front door, and slammed it.
    I heard the bolts slide.
    I was alone in the street again.
    I leaned on the bell with all my weight.
    Vic wouldn’t open the door without the chain on it. He threatened to call the police. I told him that I was dirty and begged for more kitchen roll. He tried to slide it through the crack, but I said no I was absolutely filthy and needed soap and water and a proper rinse down.
    He opened the door.
    I forced him against the wall so that his head banged against a photo of Big Ben. I pinned him in place with my pelvis. I grinded him as mechanically as I could. His eyes rolled up in his head. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He was saying: ‘No, no, no.’
    I ripped off my pussy bow and pencil skirt and pushed him inside of me. I hammered.
    He screamed.
    â€˜Fuck you,’ I was saying. ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.’
    He tried to push me off but I wouldn’t get off.
    Finally he threw me across the hall and crawled frantically towards my handbag. He was tossing my shit all over the place: Golden Virginia and Heidegger: An Intro and balls of hair from my hairbrush. He found the condoms.
    â€˜Don’t think I don’t know what your game is,’ he sneered.
    â€˜Vic,’ I said. ‘I want to do it bareback.’
    He was tearing at the packet with his teeth.
    â€˜I want there to be nothing.’ I knelt beside him. ‘I want there to be nothing between us at all, no layer of protection at all, separating you from me.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Vic. ‘Then you’ll be coming back round here next time at the crack of dawn and telling me that it’s mine.’
    â€˜You can withdraw.’ I took the condom out of his hands.
    â€˜I don’t want to withdraw. What about pre-cum?’
    â€˜That’s a myth,’ I said.
    â€˜What about disease?’
    â€˜I want your disease, Vic.’ I chucked the condom down the hall. ‘I want you to infect me like you said, with everything that you are and everything that you will be. You’ll be a great man one day, I know it.’
    â€˜I don’t have many more days,’ said Vic. ‘I’m approaching forty.’
    â€˜Forty is the beginning of life,’ I said. ‘That’s when you really start to know yourself.’
    Vic looked doubtful.
    His penis was dead.
    â€˜We’ll get it back, Vic, I swear,’ I said. ‘We’ll get it back together.’ I started doing an erotic dance on the stairs,