I asked her to come to Florida with me for a few days, but she was afraid of what Papi would do to her if she tried.
I went to Florida alone again. A few days later she called me and told me that she was finally ready to leave Papi and come live with me again. After all this time, she still had a key to the apartment. She asked if she could move back in and wait there for me, until I get back from Florida. "Of course," I said. I was sooo happy!
When I got back from Florida a few days later, my flight had landed much earlier than expected. I opened the apartment door and saw a bunch of her bags on the stairs. It looked like she was leaving. I walked upstairs. She was standing in the hallway, doing Papi's laundry. Her eyes got big. She hadn't expected me back so soon. She didn't know what to say. Papi was lying in my bed, naked. He had a dumb grin on his face and said: "Uhh, hi."
Apparently Alice and Papi had been living in my apartment together, while I was gone. I flipped the fuck out! I screamed at them to get the fuck out of my house. Alice tried to calm me down: "It's not what it looks like! I told him to leave!"
I wasn't in the mood for any of her bullshit anymore: "Just get the fuck out before I call the cops!"
"I can't, I don't have a car. I told Papi to leave, but he's waiting for a cab."
"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!"
Papi didn't say anything. He just put his clothes on.
Alice was visibly upset: "Can I at least borrow your phone for a second so I can call a cab? Mine is dead."
I handed her my phone.
"It's really not what it looks like."
"Shut up. Just get out."
A few minutes later a cab came and they left.
Later that night she texted me and told me that I had misinterpreted the situation. She said that she had asked Papi to drive her here so she could drop off her things here and come back to me. Papi threw her bags into the hallway, and they landed on the stairs. Then she told him to leave, but he told her he wasn't going to leave without her.
She kept telling him to leave. He got violent, grabbed a pair of scissors out of my kitchen drawer and stuck the tip of the scissors against her neck and threatened to stab her. She got really scared and told him he could wait there until I would get there and then I'd give both of them a lift back to the Howard Johnson. But she said that's only what she told him so he would stop hurting her. She said she really wanted me to kick out Papi, but not her.
At this point I was totally and utterly disgusted by her, and sick of her hurting me every chance she got. The next day I terminated my lease for that apartment and decided to move to Florida for good, like I had planned about a year earlier, when I had sold the mansion in the Poconos.
I had really only stuck around in Middletown for the past year to be near Alice. But she was obviously not worth the trouble. I had to admit to myself that things were just never going to get any better with her, no matter how hard I tried to get her away from the drugs and escorting on Backpage and living with drug dealers. So I was just done with all this bullshit. I decided to go to Florida and live there from now on. I had bought a nice apartment in Bonita Springs a few months earlier.
TWO WEEKS WITH A SEX ADDICT
“A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
Jane Austen
"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."
Mark Twain
Remember pimple poppin' Patty, the drug counselor?
At this point I hadn't talked to Patty in over a year, ever since right after my divorce, back when I had hung out with her three or four times at the mansion in the Poconos, and she had made meatballs with tomato sauce from scratch.
After that I had met Jennifer, the gorgeous, impossibly perfect gold digger. Then Linda, the scam artist who was immune to abortions. And then Liz, the yoga pothead who moved to North Carolina. And Raven, the airheaded wannabe porn star. And finally, Alice, the heroin addicted hooker.
What a team, what a team! What an all-star team!
Now, a year later, while I was living in the apartment in Middletown and going through all this crazy turmoil with Alice, I suddenly got a call from Patty out of nowhere:
"Hey Oliver! Remember me? It's Patty. It's been a while. How have you been? I'm still thinking about you all the time. Listen, can I ask you a favor? Can I come stay with you?"
"Uhmm, wait, what? You want to come stay with me?" I asked.
"Yeah, things are crazy here. I need to get outta Scranton for a while. Disappear off the radar. Get away from the paparazzi."
"Paparrazi? What paparazzi? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, remember when we met last year and you took me out to dinner at that steakhouse in Milford?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember I told you I had been there before, because before I met you, I dated a musician who lived near you in Milford?"
"Yeahhh?"
"He was actually a really famous musician. You might know him."
I thought she meant he had a little local band and played at fairs or in bars and restaurants around town. "I don't think so. I don't really go to bars or clubs," I said.
"No, no, he was pretty famous. All over the world. Especially in Germany, so you probably know him."
"Hmm, I don't know. Who is he?"
Then she told me his name and said he was the lead singer of a famous heavy metal band. Im going to change his name, like everyone else's name in this book. So let's call him Rocky the rockstar, lead singer of a famous heavy metal band. Let's call the band Blood.
I was pretty underwhelmed. I had never heard of Rocky or his band Blood, so he couldn't be all that famous. "Nah, no idea who that is," I said.
"Google them. They really are pretty famous. They had platinum records. Their music has even been used in horror movies. And Howard Stern is a big fan," she said.
"Alright. I'll google it. So anyway, what's going on with all that? Why are you trying to hide from paparazzi?"
"Well, I met Rocky while he was in drug rehab in Scranton. He was one of my patients."
Woah! Big ethics violation! Huge no no! That's the kind of stuff counselors get fired for. That's kinda like a school teacher sleeping with one of his underage students, or a psychiatrist sleeping with one of his vulnerable, mentally unstable patients.
As it turned out, Rocky had actually dated his psychiatrist first. Go figure. Then he dumped his psychiatrist and started dating Patty, his drug counselor. Maybe he had mommy issues. Maybe he liked when women with authority told him what to do. No idea.
Anyway, Patty told me that Rocky had moved in with her after rehab. But if anyone at work would have found out that she was dating one of her patients, she would have been fired, and blacklisted. She wouldn't have been able to find another job in her field. So she decided to quit on her own, and go work at a different rehab, also in Scranton.
I guess while Rocky lived with her, he was on house arrest or something. I don't remember what exactly she said.
She told me he still wanted to get wasted, so he ended up drinking two bottles of mouthwash that he found in her bathroom. Mouthwash is basically concentrated alcohol with some mint flavor thrown in. She said the concentrated alcohol burned a hole in his stomach wall and he died in her living room from internal bleeding.
She said when he was hunched over in pain on the floor, she wanted to call an ambulance, but he told her not to. And by the time he finally agreed to go to the hospital, it was too late.
Apparently Rocky's friends, fans and family were convinced that this had been no accident. They accused Patty of poisoning him on purpose, to get his millions. Rocky's family told the cops about their theory, and Patty was now a murder suspect in a police investigation.
She said she just couldn't handle the pressure any more and needed to get away. She said she had felt really comfortable around me, and wanted to come hide at my place for a few weeks.
&n
bsp; During that phone call, I told Patty: "Sorry, I don't even live in that house anymore. I sold it. I moved to Florida. So I'm too far away."
That was a lie. Yeah, I did sell the house in the Poconos, and I owned some houses in Florida, and I had just been in Florida a few days ago, but I hadn't actually moved down there yet. I was still living in Middletown, NY, in the apartment at The Regency that Alice had picked out for us. Middletown was about 30 minutes east of Milford, PA, where the big house was. Scranton, PA was 30 minutes west of Milford. So when Patty called me from Scranton and I answered the phone in Middletown, we were really just less than an hour apart.
But I told her she couldn't come stay with me, since I was too far away in Florida. I didn't want a drug counselor to know that I was now dating a drug addict. Especially not after all the horror stories Patty had told me last year, about how you can never trust an addict, because all they do is lie and cheat, lie and cheat, lie and cheat. And that addicts are incapable of really bonding and being in a relationship with another human being, because they are in a relationship with their drug, and the drug will always, always come first.
Obviously she had been 100% right. It was as if Alice was on a mission to prove right everything Patty had told me about addict behavior last year. I felt so stupid that I got caught up in this clusterfuck of a relationship. And I was so upset over the things Alice was doing, the last thing I needed now was to hear Patty say: "I told you so."
After that first conversation in over a year, Patty called me back every other day or so and kept asking me to let her come stay with me: "Florida really isn't that far away at all. My sister lives in Tampa. And there's an airport right here in Scranton. I could hop on a plane and be in Fort Myers in 3 hours!"
Finally I gave in. I had caught Papi Chuloco in my bed just a few days ago, kicked him and Alice out, and terminated my lease at the Regency in Middletown. Now I was about to move to Florida for good. Alice was running around doing God knows what with God knows who, fucking drug dealers and Backpage dates, living the high life with Papi, while I was home alone, miserable. Meanwhile Patty actually wanted to be with me. So why the hell not? Why was I fighting it?
When I was back in Florida, I called Patty back and told her that I changed my mind, and yes, she could come stay with me for a while if she still wanted to.
Patty got on a plane the next day and I picked her up at the airport in Fort Myers. She was hungry, so we went straight to the IHOP on Route 41 in Bonita Springs and got something to eat.
Then we went back to my place. We were in the living room, and within ten minutes, she got comfortable. She slipped her dress off and pulled off her panties. I sat on the couch, still fully dressed, and she was lying next to me, naked, with her head on my lap. She looked up at my face, took my hand and put it between her legs. She wanted me to rub her clit. I hadn't even seen her in over a year, and here I was, with my finger in her pussy, ten minutes after walking through the door. Boy, that was quick! But hey, I wasn't complaining. I figured, if Alice is out there having fun without me, I might as well have fun with Patty, too.
It didn't take long until I remembered why I had stopped seeing Patty last year. For some reason I just didn't like to have sex with her. Maybe it was her deep, manly voice. Or maybe because she always seemed to want it more than I did. I almost felt like I was being pressured into it. I wasn't even in the mood when we had sex. I wasn't horny. I didn't get a chance to be.
She had come to stay with me in Florida, not only to get away from the homicide investigation and the paparazzi, but also to spend her birthday with me.
Patty gushed that she and Rocky had gotten very close and that she was really in love with him, because he was such an amazing man, such a beautiful mind, such an incredible artist. She said they had planned to get married. And now he was gone. She was devastated. And she couldn't bear the thought of being all alone on her birthday.
I don't remember if we had sex once or twice on the first day she arrived in Florida. But sex was always on her mind. Every day revolved around sex. More and more sex, every damn day. One day we fucked five times while watching porn together. I could only cum twice. That was it for me for that day. But that was not enough for her. She kept sucking my dick after each time, to get me hard again, even if it took a while, and then she sat on my lap and rode me, for what seemed like hours. I couldn't believe I even managed to get hard that many times in a row. She made herself cum three more times. I honestly started to feel like I was being raped. It was just too much. But I couldn't tell her. What self-respecting guy would ever complain about too much sex? I might as well turn in my man card. Isn't having lots and lots of sex every man's dream?
When I had met her a year earlier, she told me that she felt very comfortable around me. She said I was unlike any other guy she had ever met. I figured it was because of my upbringing in Germany. She said it was very easy for her to open up to me, because being around me was just like hanging out with her best female friend. I gave her a dirty look: "Did you just call me gay?"
She laughed and said: "No, no, it's a good thing. You're just so... understanding... comforting... nurturing... and supportive. When I'm around other guys, I feel like I'm being circled by a shark. It's like they're predators, and all they can think about is ways to get in my pants. But I don't feel like that at all when I'm around you. I feel like you actually listen when I talk, because you're actually interested in what I have to say."
Even back then, when we hung out at my house in the Poconos, she was very sexual. She told me all about how she liked to masturbate with dildos, and that she had a big box of adult toys under her bed. Then she asked me if I liked to watch porn. I said yes. She asked me if I liked to have sex while watching porn. I told her: "Well, for some reason I really like when a girl sucks my dick while I watch porn. It just feels kinky somehow."
Then she told me she loooved to watch porn and sometimes she just masturbated all night long with her dildos, making herself cum over and over again, and that she had a whole collection of Andrew Blake films. She said he's one of the few porn directors who really knows how to make erotic films. I had never heard of him. I really wasn't THAT much into porn, where I would actually know the names of directors or even the names of the porn stars. Well, except for Jenna Jameson. I knew her name.
Now, one year later, Patty had brought a couple of Andrew Blake films with her to Florida. She told me she remembered what I said I liked, and she wanted to suck my dick while I watch my very first Andrew Blake porno.
Wow! Could this get any better? Yes, it could. Since she was also a good cook, and she knew that I liked brownies, she made these amazing brownies, topped with vanilla ice cream, strawberries, fudge and Cool Whip. She told me she wanted me to eat the brownies, while watching porn, and while she's sucking my dick. Wow. Just wow.
I was being stimulated every which way. I tried to make this perfect moment last, and I tried to hold out for as long as I could, but it didn't take me long at all to cum in her mouth, and she swallowed. Then she gave me a coy smile and asked me: "Did you like it?"
"Did I like it? Damn! That was probably one of the best moments of my life!"
We weren't in a relationship or anything, but she really really went out of her way to show me that she could be the best girlfriend ever. She told me she would do anything I want, just name it. I think if I had asked her to jump off the roof, she would have done that, too.
She told me she liked to be in pain while getting fucked, and she asked me to pinch her nipples really hard, and pull them away from her chest as far as I could. I just couldn't get myself to do it. I didn't want to hurt her. But she insisted. So I pulled on her nipples, like her boobs were rubber bands. I pulled them so hard and so far away from her chest, I thought if I let go, they'll snap back. I couldn't imagine that this felt good to her. It looked like I was about to rip her tits off. But she liked it.
She had a habit of scratching my back and screaming loudly during sex. That
was a big turn off for me. I don't like when a girl totally overacts during sex. I almost feel like she's mocking me. Patty noticed that I liked her blowjobs better, so she did that a lot.
The next time she sucked my dick, she had an ice cube in her mouth. That wasn't bad either. But nothing topped the brownie-porn-blowjob trifecta.
She tried to make each blowjob experience different. And at some point she started to totally overact, like a porn star on steroids, moaning loudly and slobbering lots of spit all over my dick. She was twisting the shaft with her hands, while biting the head. Chewing it. She was going to town like she had lost her mind. Like a zombie on The Walking Dead, eating brains. It was painful. I was starting to worry about the safety of my little buddy. This was not sexy at all. It was just grotesque. Instead of cuming, I lost my erection.
Going to New York Page 16
