PRESSURE PRESS ARCHIVE
ERIE POLITICS
(A PLAY) 12/94
Characters:
Poet, long-haired, stoned.
Totally Nude Dancer, absolutely Beauty in the flesh, young, hip, happy.
Old Lady Mayor of Erie, extreme age on her face, gray like Death, slowly decaying robotic movements, jaded
Scene:
Poet is smoking marijuana at his typewriter, writing sporadic sentences. He eventually spaces out, sitting there, slumped. All lights dissolve. Spotlight red telephone. Poet dials & whispers, hangs up. Lights burst on as loud knocking comes from a side door.
POET (opening door): Fifty?
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER (striding inside gracefully, she's a pure knock-out of skin removing her long coat, a delightful 90's Venus nude & perfect): Yes. (She inspects the room, turning, smiling) You're a Writer?
POET (awed at her Beauty): Sometimes.
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: Have you been published?
POET: Sure, all the time. (He sits down at his desk). Smoke?
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: ok. (She walks over to him, begins rubbing his neck).
POET: (Fumbling with the dope) O, ok, here. (He lights the joint as her face comes down shining over his shoulder).
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: (Sucking in smoke, she then kisses him, exhaling the smoke down his throat). Do you like me?
POET: (Chuckles). Yeah, I like you.
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: (Shoving her breasts into Poet's face, who lathers them with his tongue). You like my titties? (He groans. His hand finds her pussy, but she slaps it away). No, not there.
POET: (Pulling out of the wet deliciousness of tit). Why?
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: It's the Law. This is a legit business. I'm going to dance for you. (She spins away. She begins a lewd dance, eventually rubbing her hot pussy frantically sprawled on the floor. She orgasms, yelling.) Shoot me with yr cum, man!
POET: (Jacks off, spilling his milk over her flushed & jiggling breasts. She rubs it in. She coos.) Good dance.
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: There's a towel in my coat. Will you get it for me, darling? Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Can we finish that joint? Thanks. (Poet passes her fifty dollars). Another twenty I suck. (She smiles, fluttering her eyelashes, licking her lips).
POET: (Shakes no). How old are you?
TOTALLY NUDE DANCER: 21! Hey, you've got our number. I'm Jan. Remember me. (She departs.)
POET: (Muttering) Fifty goddamn dollars, FIFTY goddamn bucks. (He goes to the phone, dials.) I need a dancer for the night. Until morning. No? Ok, 3 o'clock. 8 hours. I want Jan. That much? Yes, my credit-card. Ok. (Too soon there's a knocking on the door. Poet warily opens it). Mayor?
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: I'm recognized. May I come in? Thank you. No, there are no Police here. Just me. May I sit?
POET: (Uncomfortable). Sure, sure.
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: (Sniffing). I smell reefer.
POET: It's incense.
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: (Smiles.) Incense. I'm the Mayor of Pennsylvania's third largest city, & you're telling me what I smell is INCENSE? Just innocent incense, huh? Can I have a hit? No? Don't be shy, honey.
POET (Reluctantly): I just have a little bit...
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: That's ok, this is very good reefer indeed. (She takes a few giant inhalations, exhalations). Good shit...
POET (Finally getting the half-smoked joint): I don't vote, ya know, I'm sorry.
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: Oh goodness, I'm not here for a vote! You called "Dancers", didn't you? I know you did. I have a tap on yr phone. You were talking to ME!
POET: (Acting confused, bewildered) You? A tap? What?
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: Don't be such a nit-wit! I do more than dance. (She removes her dress, her slip, her bulbous bra. She's fat, wrinkled, a monstrosity compared to Jan.)
POET: You're going to have to leave!
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: (Wickedly) I don't think so, honey. I can have yr ass nailed into Western Penn if I want. Come here. (She opens her thighs.) I want yr mouth here. (Her fingers part her cunt). I'm warning you. This isn't the first time I've done this. Kneel to yr Mayor, you bastard.
POET: (Quivering, kneels. Closes his eyes bringing his head in close to the sewage-odored hole of the Mayor. She grabs & holds his head hard, mashing her cunt around his face. He begins dry-heaving). Oh, please, I'm, I'm, I'm SICK. (She kicks him in the head as he falls curled on the floor). You bitch.
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: You know what they do to little boys at Western Penn? I'll tell the guards to ignore yr screams, you sorry asshole. I own many important people, you get it? (She looms over him, squats down to undo Poet's pants.) Nice cock, kid. Mind if I taste it? Mmmmm...mmmm...good. Oh, it's getting long & hard. How pretty.
POET: I give up.
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: Mmmm...give up, yes, honey. (She pokes a short finger into his screaming asshole). Give it up. (She sucks him, finger-fucking his anus, greedily).
POET: Oh, Ah, Christ, Motherfuck, Uhg, Ah, Eat some CUM! (He shoots his load down her throat, gobbling. She removes her finger, places it on his sealed lips. She smacks him.) OW! (She shoves her finger into his mouth, smearing it around.)
OLD LADY MAYOR OF ERIE: Taste good, honey? Don't bite. That's right. (She wipes the wet finger around his face). I can come here anytime for any reason, right? You won't be moving. You don't want that Jan girl, do you?
POET: (Shakes no).