Spoiler Alert! If you haven't read Neil Gaiman's American Gods and want to keep everything about the devious deities secret until the TV show's April debut, then turn away now — things are about to get seriously unholy up in here.
Still with us? Good, for your eyes are about to be opened to one of the novel's most sordid, mind-meltingly insane scenes, one that creator Bryan Fuller has confirmed will 100% feature in Starz adaptation. Yup, I'm talking the part where Bilquis devours a man whole. Via her vagina.
But before we get to the nitty gritty, here's what you need to know about ol' Bilquis. Firstly, like pretty much every character in #AmericanGods she goes by another name, the Queen of Sheba, who you'll likely already know for being a legendary, mythical ruler famed for her confidence and prowess. Secondly, Bilquis is suspected of being half jinn — a demon or genie: a physical, supernatural being able to interact with humans — the latter part coming in quite handy for her current profession. In Gaiman's world of forgotten gods, Bilquis is a prostitute.
Now, let's set the scene: We're somewhere in LA, in a room described as being the color of raw liver. Bilquis (let's call her B from now on) is scantily dressed in itsy shorts and a tit-pushing T. She's with a short, well dressed man who's about to pay her for sex.
B hands him a candle and asks him to light it. He makes a couple of crude comments about regretting not just getting a backseat BJ. She whaps out a boob. He gives her $50 and slides it beneath a statue of a woman with ginormous hips, which is perched at the foot of the bed. She starts to do her thing. He struggles to contain himself. Then B says that she'll give him everything he wants if he does her one favor: worship her as they fuck.
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The punter shrugs off her request as a kink, and the scene unravels as follows:
"Yes," he says. "I worship your breasts and your hair and your cunt. I worship your thighs and your eyes and your cherry-red lips ... I worship your nipples, from which the milk of life flows. Your kiss is honey and your touch scorches like fire, and I worship it." His words are becoming more rhythmic now, keeping pace with the thrust and roll of their bodies. "Bring me your lust in the morning, and bring me relief and your blessing in the evening. Let me walk in dark places unharmed and let me come to you once more and sleep beside you and make love with you again. I worship you with everything that is within me, and everything inside my mind, with everywhere I've been and my dreams and my-- he breaks odd, panting for breath. "What are you doing? That feels amazing. So amazing" - and he looks down at his hips, at the place where the two of them conjoin, but her forefinger touches his chin and pushes his head back, so he is looking only at her face and at the ceiling once again.
"Keep talking, honey," she says. "Don't stop. Doesn't it feel good?"
"It feels better than anything has ever felt," he tells her, meaning it as he says it. "Your eyes are stars, burning in the, shit, the firmament, and your lips are gentle waves that lick the sand, and I worship them," and now he's thrusting deeper and deeper insider her: he feels electric, as if his whole lower body has become sexually charged: priapic, engorged, blissful.
"Bring me your gift," he mutters, no longer knowing what he is saying, "your one true gift, and make me always this-always so-I pray."
While we've all said demented things in the heat of the moment, this poor fellow's rampant mutterings really take the biscuit. But unfortunately for him, his climax doesn't bring the expected, silence-rendering release. In fact, there is literally nothing you would expect in what happens next:
"And then the pleasure crests into orgasm, blasting his mind into void, his head and self and entire being a perfect blank as he thrusts deeper into her and deeper still...
Eyes closed, spasming, he luxuriates in the moment; and then he feels a lurch, and it seems to him that he is hanging, head down, although the pleasure continues.
He opens his eyes.
He thinks, grasping for thought and reason again, of birth, and wonders, without fear, in a moment of perfect postcoital clarity, whether what he sees is some kind of illusion."
This is what he sees:
He is inside her to the chest, and as he stares at this in disbelief and wonder she rests both hands upon his shoulders and puts gentle pressure on his body.
He slipslides further inside her.
"How are you doing this to me?" he asks, or he thinks he asks, but perhaps it is only in his head.
"You're doing it, honey," she whispers. He feels the lips of her vulva tight around his upper chest and back, constricting and enveloping him. He wonders what this would look like to somebody watching them. He wonders why he is not scared. And then he knows.
"I worship you with my body," he whispers, as she pushes him insider her. Her labia pull slickly across his face, and his eyes slip into darkness.
She stretches on the bed, like a huge cat, and then she yawns. "Yes," she says. "You do."
And that, pretty much, was that.
So, this show will feature a scene — a taster of which you can see in the trailer below — that depicts a prostitute extracting a man from the planet via her lady parts. And that, my friends, will make for fantastic #TV viewing.
American Gods begins its reign on Starz in April 2017. Check out the teaser trailer below:
Are you going to read American Gods before the TV show starts?