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11 November 2007 @ 08:59 am
Cunt, Slut, and Whore  
Title: Cunt, Slut, and Whore
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: Gen (Doris, oc (Liz & Geo))
Word Count: 1,800
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Liz reacts poorly, Doris gets a grip on life, and Geo is a mess.

NOTES: I am utterly confidant that no one will read this, but it had to be written because I need to set the ‘ladies’ up what is going to happen in the next few installments of the Ring Cycle (yea, that). If the title offends you...piss off. I am a slut and I have a number of cunts for friends (and have been one myself, on occasion) and I think whoring should be a legal and respected profession. As far as I am concerned, the title of this piece is a generally matter of pride for the individuals thus described.

Background:
(Latest chapter in the Ring Cycle)


Cunt, Slut, and Whore


Liz finally realized she was being childish. That Bastard and Danny may have ruined her life, but it was temporary; things like this were always temporary. She took it with a lot of vodka and the realization that the deep emotional connections of a long-term relationship were not for her. She had Geo for emotional support, and any man she wanted for sex. The combination was perfect and she decided on a crisp early morning run that it was time for her to get back into the game. Anyway, she was horny.

“Wot, you done with them, then?”

“Not like they are beating a path back to the door, Geo.”

“Oh like’d you let ‘em?”

“No, absolutely not. They are cheating bastards.”

“Mmm. Seemed like such good for you, eh? Two men to keep your mess out of your pants and your brain out of your head. Fucks.”

“Yes, they are fucks.”

“So sorry, Cuddles.”

“It’s okay, Tipsy. Just time for me to get out into the game.”

“You don’t play the game, girl.”

“I don’t need to. I get what I want.”

“Really? Here I thought you was in love with Them.”

“Not.”

“Yeah, Liz. Don’t be a self-righteous cunt wit’ me. I know where you been and what been done.”

Liz lowered the phone and put her head down on her desk.

------

Doris was, surprisingly, alone. The Andes were rare creatures at the pub, these days, and seemed to drag Angel with them into whatever night they went. Doris was as surprised by anyone about what was going on with the Andrews, but whatever side of the fence they were on, Doris knew one thing about them: they took sex seriously, and did not break out of a clutch just to grab a lager. She fondly remembered her first night with the two of them: it lasted three days.

That was a long time ago, and her dalliances with them ended well before the NWA shootout happened. They were all still friends but she was staying out of their way, unsure of what was going on with them and Angel and Danny, and worried that the Andes were only making that situation worse as only they could do.

In any case, everyone else bailed on her as well. Danny lost interest in the pub as soon as it was clear that Angel was not going to be there, Tony was at home with his wife and son, the Turners were probably off reading somewhere, and Walker pulled the dreaded night shift. Aside from the men she worked with, there were few she cared to spend much time on out of bed. The ones she liked in her bed were on speed dial.

She sat at the bar of the pub, eating some peanuts and looking at the sad lot of pickings around her. Mostly married men escaping their wives, and she swore off those (at least in Sandford) after the whole Samantha Porter scandal. She and Samantha were friends…once. Doris wrinkled her nose, trying to steer herself down a different path of thought.

“One lager, please.”

Doris turned and looked straight at Liz King, who was carefully counting out money at the bar. Liz looked up and saw her looking at her.

“Constable Thatcher.”

“Ms. King.”

They nodded like gentlemen and proceeded to ignore each other.

-------

“You….sleep…with…her. But no sex? Kor.” Doris laughed and Liz shrugged. They ended up sharing a table after they caught each other looking at the same man several hours earlier. They laughed politely and then realized they were in the same game, trying for the same play, and Doris bought her a drink.

“Hmm. I think she likes girls, you know, just not me that way. I dunno. Geo’s a freak.”

“Good thing in my book.” Doris nodded approvingly, with her trademark squinty-smile.

“That’s how we met. I tell guys we met at a club, but…well, it was a certain kind of club.” Liz sipped her lager and glanced around the pub uncertainly.

“Wot that?”

“Erm…” Liz stalled, unsure of this new friendship, but realizing this might be a make-or-break moment for it. “In London. It’s called The Chamber…”

“Oy!!!” Doris sat up and started barking with laughter.

“You know it?” Liz asked incredulously.

“Wot the ‘ell! Love that damn place! All them nakid boys! Har!” Doris tried to keep from snorting.

Liz smiled. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

--------

Geo was phenomenally bored with flogging. In fact she was never really impressed with it; she preferred the sharper tools, like whips or a wartenberg wheel. But flogging never went out of style, and the audience loved it, and she was a recognized expert in it. She was on a heavy tranny tonight, a boi who went by the name of Amanda, for chrissakes.

What few of her club fans knew was that she was an artist, an acclaimed artist whose work was recognized by ModernArtConnoisseur Magazine as some of the premiere surrealist pieces in today’s market. She was world famous, and also broke.

Her art brought in money, real money in fact; her last sale was for ₤10,000. Given that the piece took over a year of planning and actual work to complete, though, it still came out to below minimum wage. Especially after her agent took a slice. Geo was not necessarily bitter about that, because she was in it for the art and not the money, and she was used to being poor. Being poor in London with your own flat and clothes on your back and any kind of food in the pantry was still better than being poor in a squatter’s hut with your seven brothers and sisters in Jamaica, which is where she started. She whored her way to Britain proper and whored and dominatrix-ed her way through art school, and now did not need to work that hard anymore. Instead she worked as a performer at The Chamber, a BDSM-flavored club in the disreputable, club-infested part of London that few people admitted visiting the next day. Given her background as a legitimate dominatrix, it was easy for her to pretend to be one on stage.

She still did dominatrix work occasionally, which was really just another form of whoring, not that it bothered her. Her mother was a whore and fed her family on it, and that counts for a lot when you live in third-world poverty. But now she could be chosey and she only worked for long-term clients or new clients with proper references and a lot of money. It was extra, though, because actually beating the crap out of someone for hours was exhausting, whereas pretending for twenty minutes on stage was not.

The lights finally dimmed and the dance mix went back to ‘godalmightyloud’ as she left the stage, dripping sweat, more from the lights than her exertions.

“’Ey you beeeatch! Good show!” DJ Anjel the incredibly flaming gay stage manager gave her a thumbs up. Geo just nodded and went to change, but Anjel stopped her. “You got a visitor back there, ‘oney.”

Geo frowned. “You let ‘im back?”

“’E got creds, baby. I ain’t stopping the law.” Anjel shook his head dramatically. “Just a ‘eads up for a girlfriend.”

“You annoy the piss out o’me, Anjel.”

“Just don’t piss on me, girl.” Anjel smiled and bounced off.

Geo walked back and into the incredibly quiet and subdued changing room. Other performers were there, but the usual riotous noise was simply gone in the face of the Met detective inspector standing by Geo’s spot, waiting for her. He was old and wrinkled and not impressed by naked women and men changing clothes in front of him, and when he looked at her, she knew that all kinds of bad was getting ready to smash her world to hell.

The only thought that crossed her mind was how the fuck she could possibly explain any of this to Liz when it all came out.

-------

“Bored?”

“Yeahhh.” Doris played with her food. She and Liz were at the pub, eating lunch together on Doris’ lunch break.

“With Taylor?”

Doris grinned evilly. “Naw. Got a lot more there to wear out!”

Liz laughed. “So then?”

“Ay…life, I guess.”

Liz started shoving the salt and pepper shakers around.

“Would you stop that?” Doris grimaced.

“What? Oh.” Liz pulled her hands back. “So what then? ‘Life’ is rather a broad category.”

Doris bounced her head, annoyed. “Mum’s got on me again.”

“Pffft. Mothers. Whatever.”

“Naw, she got a point.”

“What? What?” Liz shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Naw, Liz. I don’t want to ‘ave kids or nothin’.” Doris rolled her eyes.

“Thank god. I thought you were going to leave me as the only slut in this town.”

Doris belly laughed and snorted. “Naw! Like if! Amateur.” Doris googled her eyes at Liz. “But...don’t you ever think about…the future?”

“All the time.”

Doris looked at her, confused. “Yeah?”

“Um, yeah. Don’t you?” Liz looked back, just as confused.

“No. Mum just…you don’t get married and ‘ave kids, wot you got in Sandford?”

Liz thought about that. “Your career?”

“Wot?”

“That wasn’t a trick question?”

“No!”

“Oh. Well, I stand by my answer.”

Doris looked even more confused. “My career?”

“Doris, haven’t you ever thought about it? Damn, you had to go through a lot just to join the force…”

“Service.”

“…service. What did you think you were going to do after you started working as a policeman?”

“Officer.”

“…police officer?”

“Just liked the uniform.”

Liz laughed so hard that Doris started laughing with her. Finally they could breathe again, and Liz drank a lot of water.

“So okay, you look great in the uniform. Hot, even. Every man wants you. Now what? You’re smart, so do something with it.” Liz shrugged as if stating the obvious.

Doris sat thoughtfully at that, playing with her food. “Wot’s your plan, then?”

“Write my novels. I’ve got a detective/action-adventure series, kind of humorous, actually, starring some small-town policema-officers. I call it ‘Hot Fuzz.’” Liz smiled sheepishly.

Doris guffawed. “Stupid title!”

“Working draft, okay? Anyway, almost done with the first book. Hope to sell it. Sell the series. Maybe even movie rights…then I can stop being a mediocre news editor.” Liz swigged her water.

Doris looked out the window of the pub. “I never much thought about trying for inspector.”

“For That Bastard?” Liz sat back, incredulous.

“NO! Kor, Liz, not Angel. I meant the rank, yeah?”

“Oooohhhhh. Right. Sorry. Okay, maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should, at that.” They ate in silence for a bit, then Doris looked up at her mischievously. “And wot about the Inspector, eh?”

“Don’t start, Doris. Done.” Liz flushed.

“Naw. You ain’t done. You just pretending you don’t care.” Doris stabbed her fork in Liz’ general direction. Liz ground her teeth.

“I’m over the emotional entanglements, and I’m over cheating bastards. End. Of. Story.”

Doris grinned and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Liz.”

####
 
 
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Ixalpha_orionis_v on November 11th, 2007 05:39 pm (UTC)
I love you for having the balls to use "cunt" in a public forum. Everyone's always like "ehhhh... Bad word!" It's just a series of sounds used to represent female anatomy. How is it any worse than "cut" or "can't?"
mikes_grrl on November 12th, 2007 01:06 am (UTC)
Big shout out for taking back the words! My mother was a crone, a queer fag-loving crone who raised a slutty cunt of a daughter who wanted to grow up to be a 'courtesan'(whore)!

Language is what we make it. Take back the night, the words, and the love. :)
Ixalpha_orionis_v on November 12th, 2007 01:13 am (UTC)
hahaha! YES!

If there's one thing I've learned during my time on this planet, it's that human beings are far too easily offended.
zombie survivalist: gus's gunbeccavox on November 12th, 2007 04:20 pm (UTC)
You underestimate that no one will read this...if it's part of the Rings cycle, I'm in. I was beginning to wonder where Liz had run off to.

As for using 'cunt'...I think we should take back those words. I was in a crowd of people the other day and one yelled "CUNT" at the top of his lungs to his friend (in a loving manner, as only boys can do) and everyone turned and stared, mouths dropped open. I think I was the only one unaffected. And as for using it here...if I didn't like it, I wouldn't read it.

So there.