by Ray Hecht
“My friend. Just move up to the valley already. Get with the times.”
“Signing off, partner.”
* * *
Ben’s roommate stumbled in soon after, and immediately locked himself in his room. He wasn’t usually too cheerful after a shift at the restaurant, but he seemed to be in a particularly dickish mood this afternoon. Like all he wanted was to be somewhere else.
Ben’s ass was starting to feel sore after a mere three hours straight of sitting. Though he adored his ergonomic chair, lovingly bought for the intention of long hours coding by candlelight, all things have limits.
He was still kind of depressed about Candace and wanted something to distract him, something to work on. Anxiously, he stayed in the living room in the hopes that when Jack came in they could immediately shoot the shit.
In truth, Ben missed him. They weren’t the best of friends, yet he couldn’t help feeling close to his live-in partner. Their friendship had grown over the previous several months, even though they could go for days without talking. Ben at least felt that way. The two had met in spring of that year through the website Dougspost; Ben put up an ad after the previous tenant returned to the Midwest following a personal financial crisis, and Jack came across as the coolest of the responders.
It was nice for Ben to have someone to bond with, anyone at all.
Most of his old friends had moved far away, to bigger and better things. And those who didn’t move tended to not be worth knowing.
He was close to his family. His youngest sister moved to the East Coast long ago, stayed there and married after college. His eldest brother stayed in town to help his mother, as she had been in remission from breast cancer over the past two years.
Ben didn’t like to think too much about his mother’s illness. In the back of his head he vaguely knew it was the primary reason he couldn’t move far, and he also knew he had to succeed fast so he could show her what he made of his life. Just in case.
Nobody knew how long she actually had. Doctors disagreed, but it always loomed. No one ever talked about it directly.
From time to time his mother went from healthy to outbreaks of terrible trauma, and they all had to make do with their own lives in the time being.
Ben wasn’t particularly good at dealing with all that.
He did know that the best strategy to make his mother happy wouldn’t necessarily entail success in his career, but rather success in his love life. If he could only find someone to marry in the next few years…
If only I didn’t screw everything up with Candace.
He caught himself having negative thoughts again. His mind was all over the place. He needed to focus. It wasn’t helping that he hadn’t had sex in over a week.
Just when he was about to open a website for pornographic webcam sessions, Jack swung open the door and declared he had an hour to kill.
Perfect. Ben felt both relief and frustration. They soon began to drink and play Casino Heist, a quality game both entertaining and requiring a decent amount of concentration, and he was distracted more than enough once the brain drain began. One side of his mind concentrating on the game at hand, and the other side prodding for mental note-taking.
The beers were good too. He helped himself to many.
It was a good afternoon. After the terrible lunch breakup, he couldn’t have asked for better. He was productive on the app project, he got to hang out with his roommate. Only thing was, as soon as Jack left—on a hot date no less—Ben was back to square one.
He made a baloney and mustard sandwich, and watched a comedy show. Skimmed some Ice Realm blogs. Briefly masturbated to fanfiction, then got bored before completion. Peed a few times. Feeling thirsty, he had yet another beer. Then another.
Turning off the streaming video, the apartment went quiet. He decided one more beer couldn’t hurt.
Needing to keep busy, he tried at a bit of coding. It didn’t last long; his heart wasn’t in it. Didn’t help that he was starting to get a buzz.
Though he had sufficient funds in the bank from his last job, he decided it would be prudent to search for a few new gigs. He went to the familiar plain tables of Dougspost to see if any freelance work was available.
It wasn’t long before his eyes and arrow fell upon the more romantically-inclined classified ads. With the subtlety of a powerful magnet edging closer and closer from afar, the attraction pulled him in deep. Women Seeking Men. So many possibilities. But how could he stand out to any of them?
It was too soon. He couldn’t start from scratch all over again forging a connection. Not right now.
Yet he couldn’t stop. Electromagnetic impulses drew him in further. Soon Women Seeking Men under the mainstream romantic header wasn’t enough. He cursed himself for doing it, but Ben couldn’t help it. He was lurking the With- Benefits Wants.
A thousands links spread open before him, like the imaginary pairs of legs from his fantasies. More often than not, the ads were professional. And that suited his curiosity just fine. He clicked up the first two tabs for erotic massage exchange, and quickly glanced at the photos.
I’m a real girl! declared one. I massage you EVERYWHERE, said the next. Photos of Asian girls—possibly ripped from Japanese AV directories—in bras and panties and lingerie, drawn over with phone numbers and email addresses. You weren’t supposed to post phone numbers in the Wants, especially the With-Benefits Wants. But it was easy enough to get around automatic bans on certain text input patterns upon a rasterized pic. A minor hack, but a hack nonetheless.
He clicked on several more. Many didn’t come with pictures. He could tell which ones were regular girls, not pros but actual girls seeking a good time, except he knew by now that they weren’t worth emailing because they never ever replied to him. He learned that the hard way, after untold hours of lonely nights.
Ben’s penis swelled up inside him at the possibility of being touched this very night, and he helped himself to his own hand. Then he stood up, stretched, and went to double-lock the front door. Just in case.
He typed with his left hand and he tabbed and tabbed at the possibilities.
Me and my husband are looking for a man to fuck me while he watches.
I like to be tied up. bring your own ropes.
I want a think black cock NOW! NOW!!!
Certain subject matters particularly caught his eye:
Spiritual massage.
Treat yourself to a spa day.
Rub-down ALL OVER
Quality tantric release, nowhere left untouched.
One such location was entitled Starlight Spa. The headline, Goddess’s Touch.
Though he knew from experience the freelancers working out of their apartments were best.
Then he saw it, a familiar face. It was an ad from Kai, a masseuse he had met on more than one occasion.
Hi there. Feeling sore? I can help out, I’m trained LMT and I don’t miss any spots. All your lymph nodes covered! I am also trained in the art of tantra, reiki, and ancient taoist chakra work. I guarantee a sensual and spiritual experience the likes of which you’ve never had. Make an appointment quick, and treat yourself!
Kai was cool. He looked at her photo and thought about her in person, with her soft voice and pixie hairdo and arms draped in spidery tattoos and mysterious body.
He thought about her hands, dripping with oil, and pressing between his legs as he lay on the foldout table…
“Damn it,” he whispered to himself, barely audible, though no one was listening.
He checked his wallet. How much was she again? Forty? Fifty? Oh, the ad says right there. There were about three twenties in his wallet, he was pretty sure of that.
Pacing the room, he had another bottle and considered his options. He could jerk off to streaming videos, no problem. Save himself the money. But then again, today was a special day. He was dumped. He had promised himself he wouldn’t pay for a session with Kai again, but that was a month ago.
On the one hand,
it had been long enough. He had the money. What’s the big deal? On the other hand, didn’t he have any self-control at all?
He felt guilty. But the feeling of pressure in his crotch overrode it.
That plus the drink factor, and a decision was made. He double checked her number, and texted her. – Hi, it’s me Barry from last time. Can I make an appointment this evening?
It didn’t take long for her reply to ping his phone. He jumped as it vibrated right in his hand. – Hi dear. Just finished yoga. I’m free in about an hour, up til midnight. Would love to see u again.
He took a swig, confirmed for the following hour, and turned on his CuberCab app. Flashes of radar bounced along the map screen, and a car was coming closer. Her place was only a few miles away. He felt pretty good about himself. He was being responsible. He was about to pay for it.
4
Carla
Carla Diaz couldn’t believe her estranged sister was napping right next to her. Andrea, though only two years older, seemed to be from a completely different generation. Another era of life. She smelled of cigarette smoke and lavender.
What on earth was she doing here?
It was supposed to be a quiet evening in. With no morning classes today, Carla only wanted to catch up on reading. She was almost finished with the chapter when Andrea suddenly interrupted.
The princess was about to meet the general of the opposing army. Threads upon threads were intersecting. A climax hundreds of pages in the making; it was an epic scene.
All those hours spent glued to the book. Now what?
She stared at her big sister, curled up in the fetal position on the opposing sofa. The both of them, in their mom’s house, like they’d never grown up. Like they were still arguing over how one sister stole the other’s nail polish. She’d almost feel nostalgic, if it wasn’t for the fact that she hated her sister.
Andrea was probably hung over, looking for money, in some kind of mess. What a wreck.
Probably major drama with some guy. Big sister always had drama with guys. There was the time she cried when the guy wouldn’t leave his girlfriend for her. The time the two guys punched each other over her affections at the front door and they had to call the cops.
The worst was the time she fucked Timothy, Andrea’s date. Nothing ever topped that.
She thought back to when they were kids, living in this same house, and Andrea looked after her. Her older sister teaching her to ride a bike, defending her from bullies in the playground, tutoring her in math.
Carla studied her sister’s slumbering face. Her clenched lips. Fists curled up in unruly hair. She looked so innocent. Hard to believe the same person had hurt her so much these last years.
Her mind went back and forth. Carla dropped the book, and it banged against the carpeted floor. She held her breath nervously, hoping Andrea wouldn’t wake up. She didn’t want to talk.
Too distracted at this point to stay in the living room, even though the sofa with the window behind was her favorite place to sit and read, she quietly snatched her book and went to her bedroom.
Was it a mistake to move back home? She had to save money so she could stay enrolled in school, and at least take a class and get a certificate. After the nursing program didn’t work out, and she was finishing up at City College following an extended break, she needed to be somewhere comfortable to figure out her next step.
Carla never did get back to her book, but she did open her laptop and step into to her blog drafts:
Summary of Chapter 12
The princess is a metaphor for the empowered woman. As she led her army of resurrected heroes-of-old, it signifies a reversal of the classic adage “Behind every man is a good woman.”
Wait, she thought, what was that?
She caught herself: Perhaps she’d forgotten how that quote went exactly. She had to do a Search on it to be sure.
Oh, that’s right. Behind every great man there’s a great woman.
She quickly typed it up.
No, this princess is behind no man, good or wicked. No, this princess leads men!
She thought that was pretty good writing. A slight grin overtook her face, and she rubbed fingers atop her brow.
Then, while she had the wiki site about quotes up on another tab, she decided to look up different authors who had used the old saying.
She began reading biographies on writers, which then led to singers and actors on TV shows, which led to reviews of shows, which led to synopses and episode guides. Before she knew it, she was on the eleventh tab and four paragraphs in on a fan website devoted to her favorite childhood cartoon.
No longer using the keyboard, the only sound was her finger tapping away at the touch mouse to browse ever deepening links.
Suddenly, she glanced at the time and realized an hour had passed.
“Oh, shit!” She was almost late for yoga class.
Carla slammed the laptop shut and dashed to her closet. She tossed clothes all over the room, seeking yoga pants that fit.
Hopping on one foot, she pulled the yellow tights on while simultaneously checking messages on her phone. Sure enough, there was a reminder about class starting in ten minutes.
If only there was time for a preliminary stretch. She felt stiff. Last week she didn’t go to class because she was menstruating. She felt self-conscious.
How would she ever become a certified instructor if she didn’t take class more seriously?
Carla powered through, put one foot in front of the other, and resisted the urge to give up and go to sleep.
Although she was perpetually angry at her sister, she couldn’t help but be courteous as she tiptoed past the sleeping lump.
After a trip to the kitchen to stock up water bottles, Carla leaned over Andrea. She extended her hand, palms up, fingers tingling, and stopped just short of caressing her sister’s quiet cheek. No, she couldn’t go there, she needed to leave already.
However, as she turned around, Andrea opened her eyes. Refusing to look, Carla only heard declarations of what a good nap that was, and each sister went about her business. Carla grimaced and walked forward, listening to meaningless language about not knowing what time is it. She had to go. She had to go.
The second time she stepped outside, Andrea followed.
“How’s it going?”
“Good.”
“Got a new job?”
“Yes.”
The questions were probing and the answers were short. When Carla mentioned she was going to class, Andrea—though clearly spaced out—recuperated with questions of her own, and that offended Carla. Where had her elder sister even been the past year? Yoga had been important to her for ages. Why now the sudden interest?
It wasn’t fair. Andrea was the same as always, in her own head, not getting it.
Carla demanded that she had to go, shouted “I’m going!”, then regretted the outburst and hugged and apologized. The final hug was insincere, and as soon as she could she drove off without another word from either of them. The uncaring silence of family.
On the road, irritation grew. And she was supposed to be focusing on yoga and prana breath. Wasn’t the best setup for a relaxing and spiritual session, was it?
Yoga class was going to be a bit of a challenge.
* * *
Carla Diaz never knew her father. And she never understood why her older sister was always so upset when the subject came up. She didn’t feel traumatized or anything, only curious. For some unknown reason the family tended to get upset when the topic was presented.
As the youngest member of the family, she invisibly loomed in the background while her mother and grandfather fought with Andrea. The eldest daughter of the Diaz clan stayed out late, sometimes not coming home at all. Grades were poor, and she barely graduated high school.
Worst were the fights with her mother’s boyfriends. Carla could not understand the big deal—why battle against Mama’s chances at happiness? Man after man was driven away.
&
nbsp; Carla was the quieter girl. She focused on her studies. She was an honors student, although sometimes she got lost in daydreams and struggled to catch up. Her senior year of high school, finally alone as the older left the nest never to return, was a relief.
She wanted to be the good child, to make her family proud. Her future was full of promises.
However, promises can be hard to keep. After graduation,, she decided to take a gap year and travelled to South America and East Asia. She saved money from her part-time job at the coffee shop throughout high school, but it was all spent far faster than she thought possible. When she ran out of money in Bali, while discovering her credit card didn’t even work there, she was forced to borrow money from her grandmother.
Upon returning, she began the university application process. It was then that she discovered how expensive higher education is, and decided to postpone it another year. Meanwhile, she needed to work in order to pay back money already owed.
One year turned to two, and she eventually realized that a college education was no longer the guarantee she once felt it was. By then she was used to her lifestyle and found it hard to adjust to studying, preferring to read books alone and smoke copious amounts of marijuana rather than cram for tests. She was a new woman.
She briefly spent half a semester in a creative writing associate’s program, and dropped out after lack of interest. Then she took some vocational cooking classes, then a medical technician course, and after a series of failures Carla began to get a reputation as something of a flake.
She lived with roommates for a while, then tried living alone. She had some boyfriends who helped out from time to time, and her last relationship ended in disaster upon revelations of infidelity. Rent wasn’t cheap in the city and she ran out of funds quickly.
Finally, she bit the bullet and moved back with her mother and grandmother. It wasn’t ideal, but she made the most of it. It was a year of resurgence: She was in college again, full of plans, back on track.
And her marijuana habit needed no adjustment.
As a young girl, Carla often imagined being an only child. The freedom, to be the sole focus of her mother’s love. But now that she was living the dream of being the only one of her generation back at home, it wasn’t quite what she hoped it would be.
