For about three years in the 1990s I wandered Mexico with a girlfriend, a heroin addict. One day we arrived at Catemaco, a small town on a lake in southeastern Mexico. We stayed in an otherwise empty, unfinished hotel. She wore stockings and high heels all day, every day, and often slept in them. The stockings were glossy, non-stretch, what are called RHT stockings. It was a strange and highly erotic time. Not long afterwards I began this story. I called her Kalí after the Hindu deity because of the powerful combination of destruction and creation that I saw in her. Later we lived in a cabin in Pátzcuaro, in the mountains of Michoacan, where I wrote the novel  The Queen of Las Vegas  (published in Mexico Trilogy), which drew from her past in the underworld of Las Vegas. Kali had long, thick, black hair and scarlet lips, and a smouldering sexuality that at times seemed to overwhelm both of us. For both of us, I think, there was an aura of end-of-times, of apocalypse. The world was ending around us. As I wrote the story, I tried to make this aura implicit, not explicit, in the tale.
The story was almost published in a West Coast literary magazine. They had already published one of my stories, and the editor asked me for another. I sent her "Kali." Immediately she called  me. She really liked Kali, she said, and wanted to publish it, but because--well, because it had so much fucking in it---she felt she had to run it by the university board first. A week or so later she called again. Not only, she told me, had the board rejected my story, but they angrily told her that if she ever published anything else by me, they would fire her.
For the illustrations I used Poser Pro 2010 and the DAZ figure Victoria 4. I imported the pngs into Photoshop where I added backgrounds and used brushes to give it the gritty, end of the world feel that I wanted.

The illustrated story is available as a 99 cent Kindle book from Amazon, here.



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