by JR King
“I’ll hazard a wild guess. Pussy?”
“That’s right. Rutting tight little pussies, that’s what we love.”
“I’m in love, Tony. I’m in fucking love!”
He flickered a frown of surprise at hearing me whine. “Stop this plateau of pity partying. I know you best, and you’re desiccating because your ego is uncertain. She won’t jump ship. As for love, it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow any good, and it certainly isn’t the greatest happening between a man and a woman. Sex is. It’s well nigh impossible that soulmates exists, and if you do find a good woman, taming is fine but ball-and-chain is another thing. So listen, either you tend to your hygiene, or I’m taking you to see a doctor. It’s a blue eyed wonder you haven’t developed a rash.”
I hated going to the doctor. The motherfucking bastards always had a list of something or other illnesses ready to quote, scarier names than malaria. Maybe it was the smell of the charlatan’s workplace, a hint of bleach mixed in with deodorizers and cough syrup medicine. Or maybe it was the sight of the fluorescent lights and pale skins and white coats.
“Can’t bathe…am too weak,” my Labrador puppy face protested with plenty of verve.
“Dahhhling,” he drawled, the effeminacy in his voice obvious as he tried his best Zsa Zsa voice. “Do you need me to wash your junk? Gosh darnit, don’t make me do it.” He gave me a playful shove and now spoke with a Midwestern accent. Kansas sheriff perhaps, pick a place. “Some parts a man gotta wash hisself, no?”
“Charming patois. As far as I’m concerned, my dick is stupid but I’m not. Dahhhling, there isn’t enough Xanax in the world that would allow me to let you wash me.”
He sussed his victory and set out for a give-me-a-big-hand parade around the bed, culminating the cabriole with a foxlike smile. “Losing breeds winners, Alex. Get your shit together or I’ll have to whip your ass bloody.”
My body thrummed but my mind was numb. Step by step, I hauled my ass to the dark corridor, and as if on autopilot, I chose my clothes. Went Italian. A black Corneliani suit and a multi-check Luigi Borrelli dress shirt. I started to shower. While lathering myself, my thoughts drifted back to you know who. Vivid, soulful images of her imperious charm. I closed my eyes and with the hot water cascading over me, I slid my soapy fingers around my cock and stroked up and down. I shuddered hard when I felt it pulsing at the tip. By some miracle, the little guy downstairs was working again, and that with a vengeance.
Ten minutes later, I was moisturized and deodorized and flabby. I was forced to face the bed head hair and the week old growth. Scruffy didn’t even begin to cover it. I looked more than dark and brooding. My eyes were bloodshot from my evening routine of drinking until I passed out.
I was a mess.
With a shuddering sigh, I leaned forward and pressed my head against the steam-fringed mirror. Stricken with heartbreak, my fit carapace had retrograded into a haggard husk. The tendons of my body were palsied, the emptiness in my eyes hadn’t cleared, ditto for the shadows that marred the skin under them.
We dummied our way around 21:00 to Aidan’s friend.
“Give me some skin! I thought you were going to bail on us again,” Aidan declared when we bumped into each other. We man-hugged with a double flat-punch on the back, one pat on the shoulder. He looked dapper wearing an open-collared business suit.
The party was in full action. All at once, Tony was nowhere to be seen. We’d done one line of cocaine in the limo, maybe that’s why. I was met with the cheerful laughter of college acquaintances and the smiling of scantily clad women. One of them prudently waved at me. I was outright rude, unreturning the wide, playful smile she gave me. Armed with a full glass of whiskey and false bravado, I sat down on a sofa in the corner. There was too much giddiness around me. With all the girls in daisy dukes, the atmosphere was filled with country funkiness, which blended well with the scent of fried foods.
“I beg to differ, this government is depleting us! It’s not fair to shell out this amount of income tax. With unemployment rates mushrooming, I say funneling welfare to indolent, refractory people who have no sense of the family-planning feat or fiscal work ethic should cease.” The talker’s face was round except for his chin, which was shaped in a harsh slant. His nose was pointed with a bump, his lips as thin as his sense of style. He was at least a dozen pounds overweight, and I was sure there was no muscle tone underneath his Gucci suit. He looked like a James.
A brunette slinked up to me. “Alexander. Remember me?” She shot me a sheepish look that was nothing short of adorable.
Irritation temporarily flared in my chest. I tempered it with a forced smile, my vacant gaze flicking over her face. I saw another uninspiring person, my expression hardly changed. Greeting verbally was overrated, so instead I nodded.
She sipped her drink before she continued, “Dinner in your suite?” It was something pink and girly, making me ponder whether it had any alcohol.
Swell, I’d been inside her, most likely, and she didn’t mind that I didn’t remember her. Was that worse than me forgetting her? Wait, wait, she did look a lot like…Elena! Wincing, it all flooded back to me.
Working away the lump in my throat, I politely said, “I’ve missed you, Elena.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
She didn’t answer. She was sitting there, all bitch-like, and it drove me crazy. Her smile came, and in typical girl fashion, it was a fake expression. Demurred sentiments. It wasn’t close to the smile she gave Frank and Michael.
The way she ended up looking at me made me realize I couldn’t be a chooser if I were already a beggar. At least she was here, and soon everything would be all right. I looked at her closely, analyzing every wrinkle. “You look a little different, babe. I can’t figure out what it is.”
She lifted her shoulders up and dropped them down. Then we drifted into an uncomfortable silence. I watched her throat shift as she swallowed her drink. Heavy eyelashes fluttered, casting shadows across her cheeks. Unbidden, memories flashed through my mind. Elena laughing, Elena happy, Elena kissing, Elena sucking my neck. Damn, thinking about all of it, I wasn’t surprised to find myself sporting a mild erection. I wanted her, and I knew I’d never let this feeling go. This gnawing desire had been with me for so long I couldn’t picture what it would be like not to want her anymore.
Just like always, she was a temptation I couldn’t allow myself to refrain from. I’d given in on soft terms and look where it got me, it only made me feel like a big loser. I should have remained the bastard, kept her to myself.
Why the fuck did I drive her home?
“Are you all right, Alexander?” Elena’s voice was soft, and she almost sounded like that night…sounded like she was interested.
“Where were you all this time?” I asked.
“Around.” The way she shut down told me she knew what I felt. What I was going through. She dug into her purse for her iPhone and checked it. The angles of her face were illuminated in the unnatural, eerie glow.
“I’m really happy to see you, little Elena.”
Her eyes twinkled, the corner of her mouth curling in the barest hint of a smile. “My name is—,”
“Ariel, I know,” I cut in with a smile. “I’m Eric.”
Her expression changed. “Really? Eric?” She dropped the phone back into her bag and sighed. Her eyes, earlier a nautical blue like the sea, had darkened to liquid cobalt in anger that nearly hissed as sharp as cobras. Jesus, I’d make a good poet, right? “They told me…I tried at least.” Her hand toyed with her hair, a lighter brown than it used to be, and a strand of white pearls peeked out from between the lapels of blazer.
“Why the conservative look and why’d you change your hair color? Are you seeing someone?”
“I am seeing someone, Alexander. He’s a lawyer.” Hearing this from her lips cemented it and made me ache. The strap of her haute couture dress fell down her arm. It made her look vulnerable somehow. My fingers twitched, eager to adjust it and
feel her warm skin, but I resisted the urge. She had someone else in her life now.
She reached over and pulled the strap up herself. Her eyes were a little sad. I felt worse, reading between the lines. She pitied me. Probably she’d sought out someone who kept her warm and unharmed. “I’m glad he keeps you safe.” By the tone of my voice or because a tiny smirk flitted across her face, I knew she couldn’t tell that I didn’t mean a word I’d said. Someone called out her name and she walked away, not looking at me again.
I shook myself out of my thoughts, refocusing on the room.
Aidan came over to me at some point. I was looking worse than I thought because he clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on your presence. You look lost.”
“I’m good, it’s the whiskey.”
He looked down at the half full glass in my hand. “I stand corrected, you’re crazy.”
My ears caught Elena’s frivolous laughter around me someplace and the ache burned in my chest.
“I don’t deserve her, man,” my drunken mouth began. “The things I’ll do to her, totally untransactional, the whole nine yards. Fuck her ass and strap her bloody if she refuses to listen to me.”
Aidan shifted in front of me. “Your dick might be stupid, but you’re not.” His diminutive headshake was one of the tiniest fabrications I’d ever seen. “Alex, the boys can’t believe you’re here. They want to fuck you so hard for all that money you keep making, till you drop. They’d shit on you if they could.”
“Take my money and shove it up their asses. I don’t care.” I had no desire to integrate myself into a conversation with money-motivated college friends while the bitterness of failure crawled up my spine. I stared at the wooden table. Cherry oak or mahogany?
“Damn, you are losing it. I told you to always do half a line only with Tony. Pure stuff.”
I snorted and looked at Aidan, found him shaking his head at me again. “I lost my shit the day I drove her home.”
With his right hand, he gave me a playful punch in the stomach. “Conrad will let you have her, you lucky bastard. I could come just looking at that chick, she looks hotter than girls from a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. I bet most losers here would beat off to her face or summon it when they’re fucking their broads. Be patient.”
“That ship has sailed. I never called her back, and now she’s dating some lawyer.” Elena was leaving and I saw a relative hand wave coming my way as she forced—or faked—another smile, leaving me behind.
One of the guys rifled a dark maroon rose at me, and the arcing stem hit my neck. “Brah, you’re so pussy-whipped.”
“Still better than being cock-whipped, bro.” Aidan and I grinned empathically, like real men do whenever any topic arises even remotely touching on homosexuality. I felt like laughing out loud, the kind of laugh that had me wiping tears in the end. I urged myself to calm down the groundswell of irrationality.
I was hungry. Starving. Famished. This part of the evening, I would typically cast my net and find the most attractive girl in the room. Take her to a luxurious private suite and fuck her brains out. Get release the way God intended it for us men. Get it all out of my system. Get the girl soaked in bouts of sperm.
Because I still felt Elena’s eyes lingering on me, it’d be blasphemy to do something like that here, among mutual acquaintances. Glancing at my trustee Patek Philippe, it was almost midnight, and things were winding down. The music was low and everyone looked hammered and juvenile.
Now that my thoughts were getting genuine again, I needed to top off my empty tumbler. Some kid I used to be friends with—James, who else?—spotted me and came over. His charming smile reminded me of James Bond, blonde hair and blue eyes to tie up the whole shebang. I remembered who he used to be in the old days, and realized that some people never grow up to be something else.
“James, my man.”
He slapped my arm in greeting. “Long fucking time no fucking see, Alex. What are you doing here? Last I heard you were courting a Sports Illustrated chick.”
“Yeah, ‘bout that. Dumped her.”
“‘Cos you’re an idiot?” I kind of wanted to punch the shit-eating grin off his face, but that would undoubtedly cause a scene and make me look even more like an asshole.
“I oughta say it, man, those girls are good lays.” I scanned the room, desperate for an exit. The last thing I needed was this idiot drumming up trouble for me. He was probably about to pull out eight balls or exclusive pills from his jacket pocket, and I knew I wasn’t strong enough to back away from all that.
Not today.
“Good on you!” His tipsy laughter ringing out drowned other sounds. “Dumping is the way to go. Women carp, over-think, make resentful assumptions, then plan their next mawkish move. It’s unappealing.”
A waiter came over. “Double Macallan, on the rocks,” I ordered.
James snorted. “Macallan? “Nah, we want Jack, make it triple.”
I was so wasted I laughed blatantly at the moron beside me.
The waiter returned with triple whiskey shots apiece, probably hoping we assholes would go sleep it off somewhere.
“The finest snow you’ll ever lay your eyes on in Boston, a whole nother variety.” He let me have a little peek at the eight ball in his hand. Shiny and sweet. “Wanna have some fun?” He squeezed my arm, his bellowing cackle loud and echoing throughout the room.
The temptation was unbelievable, but I persisted. I decided to go home and drink a good glass of whiskey to uplift my spirit from this bathos. Scratch that, several glasses. A binge maybe. “I gotta leave soon, man.”
“Gonna run, Alex? Alexandra it is, huh?”
I thought I was strong. Earlier tonight I’d only tasted the stuff. I thought I could walk away, but Elena had left me, and trying to stave off this temptation wouldn’t change my fate. Going down the rabbit hole, that dark tunnel of high-and-wasted, was one I never wanted to stumble down again, until now. This road was taken when my mother killed herself. Killed herself after Elena called our house and spoke to her, telling her the vilest things you could tell a loving wife. After that, every now and then I was high, right until the day I decided to go confront and obliterate the person who had caused havoc in my life.
That little girl.
Fucking Elena Anderson.
I was a pussy about it and ended up falling in love with her. Now look at me, thinking of her every waking hour. It all made me so sick and furious that I wanted to punch a nun in the face, and since there weren’t any around, sweet blow it was. “Let’s go to the dipshit’s private lounge.”
James grinned and I was sure he was Satan himself. “Atta boy.” We slapped each other a high-five.
“Could I join you for some fun, gentlemen?” Lily’s petite body slipped up at my side. She was Aidan’s college friend, a cute brunette with golden striations in her brown irises who ran a fashion house. She was pressed up close to me, too close, but boys and girls, I was single, and Elena had her own train of lovers. That’s why she’d left the party so early, I suspected. To be fucked into oblivion by some asshat. A Viagra-addicted klutz.
I needed a hit, quickly.
Once in the lounge James dumped the sweetness on the black marble countertop. I used my Centurion Card to create six neat lines of coke. The three of us snorted a line each, and since it was concentrated enough for me, it sufficed. Only James went for a second line. Eyelids drooping over his eyes, he became voluble, mumbling nothings like a fool as he plunked down in an armchair.
Listening to Lily’s babbling about some shoe collection, I sat in the middle of a chesterfield couch, spreading my arms onto the back of it as I closed my eyes. I felt her drop down into my lap and smelled her perfume. It smelled like strawberries with a hint of vanilla. For a fleeting moment I thought I should spread her out on the couch and see if her pussy tasted like strawberries, but eating out a girl that wasn’t Elena seemed unappealing.
“Alexander?” I cracked one eye
open and saw Lily turning flirtatious. Eyes glassy and stoic, she was both completely present and a million kilometers away, pressed against me. “Sir?” She buried her face in the crook of my neck, and her slim arms wrapped around me.
“Yes, babe?” The pitch of my voice was wide of the mark; it felt as if I heard it ringing from a great distance.
“Got any condoms?”
Ridiculous as it sounded, I was struck with surprise. The worm of anxiety living inside my stomach started crawling upward. “Nope,” I responded casually, not because I didn’t have any rubber on me, but because I hoped she’d get the message and scurry off.
A smidgen of blush appeared on her face, like clouds of bauxite mingling with gold dust of the desert on its curves. “Are you seeing anyone?”
I swathed her petite body with my biceps. “Nope.”
She tucked her head underneath my chin. “If we can’t fuck, I want to blow you,” she proposed, enunciating each word carefully. Very cautiously, she plucked at my Charvet tie and started playing with it. “I want to taste your cock.” The sultry edge of her voice drew in my gaze to her lips, seducing me when I had no business being seduced by her. Dressed only in a sheer coating of gloss, her lips looked outrageously pink. Her long hair looked smooth and was straight, falling down her back like an accentuated waterfall. Perfect to be coiled around a man’s grip and be pulled. “Can’t blame me for trying, look at you. You smell so nice.”
“Fine then. Get the drunk dick out of the room and stop fucking around with me, little slut,” I hissed, faking interest.
I didn’t think she’d be able to convince James to hurry off so she could lock the room. She really wanted a piece of me.
“Holy fucking shit,” I muttered under my breath when she was still far enough. All is fish that comes to the net, isn’t it?
I shifted until my head was resting on the couch’s armrest. There were no preliminaries. No chitchat. The silence was awkward during the blowjob.
“Like, baby?” She looked at me from beneath her eyelashes.
“Less talking and more blowing. Get my cock in your mouth, not just the tip, Lily. Don’t you know how to give head?”
