A Threesome Revisited (Part 1)

That state of mind. When you see all around you but cannot focus on anything in particular. Blurred images surrounded by haziness. You know exactly what you want but are unable to precisely determine what you are saying and how you are going about getting it. And despite the inability to truly understand anything that is occurring, you haven't a care in the world. I love it. I wouldn't have experienced as much as I have without it.

I met up with Andrea at the rather gaudy hotel she managed. We debated heading directly to a room, but instead decided to brave the extreme cold and partake in a drink or ten. I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, because despite what a fucking horrid person I am, I was still raised to practice gentlemanly behaviors. We entered a random bar, sat ourselves down, and started consuming. The conversation began warm and friendly as the drinks seemed to empty themselves rather quickly. Our inhibitions absolved and the attraction towards one another started to become publicly apparent as we playfully touched one another.

We conversed with our waitress regularly as she served us. Between rounds, she'd take a seat with us and ask the standard drivel questions waitresses usually do in an effort to appear interested. But there was something about this woman that Andrea and I couldn't quite place. I decided buying her a few rounds would be the best way for me to show this woman how appreciative we were of her attentive service. I truly had no other intention or thought about it. It was merely meant as a friendly gesture. Whether she was permitted to drink while working I do not know, but she drank what we purchased for her regardless.

As the night went on, Andrea and I were all over one another. It wasn't a show; we were simply overcome with lust. Sex and alcohol clouded our minds. Between our playing, we would find ourselves looking over at the waitress and noticed that she was already watching us. It occurred a number of times until finally she came over and sat down with us on her "break." It would appear that the drinks we bought her freed up her tongue a bit, because she avoided the common chit chat and started asking more specific questions about Andrea and myself... and more importantly, our relationship. We did not feel the need to lie, so we answered truthfully to everything. We were merely friends who had fantastic sexual chemistry and got together whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The waitress nodded her head as if our answer solidified what she already knew as truth. "I already knew that, that you weren't a couple, because no couple displays such want for one another as you two do. I have to say I am a bit jealous. You two are having such a good time with one another. It's great to see. I've done this awhile and seen pretty much everything, but you two radiate sexuality towards each other."
There wasn't much Andrea or I could say in response... we simply smiled and looked at one another while the waitress stood up and went back to her rounds. We watched her walk away when Andrea put her lips near my ear, "I like her. She is nice."
"Yes." I agreed. "I could be wrong, but I think she has been watching us throughout the night."
"Do you think we could take her with us?" she asked with mock innocence. "She is very attractive."
The thought had, naturally, already crossed my typical drunken male mind. However, threesomes aren't something that easily present themselves; nor was I overly experienced with them... having participated in only one years prior during a trip to Cancun. Despite being intoxicated, I know not to provoke my soon-to-be fuck into a threesome unless she brings it up and expresses interest in the idea. This was all the signal I needed to press towards that goal. A worst case scenario would have the waitress becoming insulted by our proposal; but Andrea and I would still find our way back to the hotel for a terrific session.
I felt Andreas inner thigh, my fingertips so close to where she craved them. "I definitely think we should. She appears to be intrigued by us." I replied.
"Yes." Andrea said lustfully as she inched herself towards my hand until the tip of my finger teased her clit under our table; her eyes closing for a few seconds as she got lost in the pleasurable sensation. "What should we do?"
I turned my head towards the waitress, who was yet again watching us, then returned my eye contact to Andrea and shrugged. "Just ask? If she isn't interested... so be it."
Andrea bit her bottom lip as she looked over my shoulder towards the waitress. "I'm nervous. I don't know if I can do it. Can you ask her?"

This situation was just as out of my league as it was hers. While I was far more experienced sexually than Andrea, I still had no confidence in approaching this. In my mind, Andrea was the one that first brought it up... and if she truly wanted it, she should be the one to pursue it. It needn't be said that I was thinking, 'Please let this work. God. Please. Please oh please oh please make this happen.' I felt like a child, giddy at the thought of receiving candy on Halloween.
"No, no. If you want this, you must ask. Besides, it is infinitely more attractive a proposal coming from a woman." I looked into Andrea's eyes as I said it, hoping to read her expression. After a pause, I could tell she was having her doubts. Not about wanting it, but about having the guts to approach it. I figured the best way to counterbalance her doubt was to show her the pleasure she could experience... so I slide my finger in and out of her several times, gently rubbing her clit between each thrust of my fingers. Her mouth was agape with pleasure, momentarily forgetting she was in a public place and that she needed to conceal our hidden adventures under the table.
She instinctively grabbed my arm, looking deeply into my eyes with total lust. "Oh God I want you. I'm going to ask her." Her eyes quickly darted to the waitress behind me, who must have been continuing to watch us, because I noticed Andrea instantly beckon her over.
Smiling, I thought to myself what a powerful tool pleasure was. I heard the waitress approach our table and instantly grew nauseatingly nervous. My expression remained the same, but my senses were extremely heightened. I wanted to be able to pick up all signals in this upcoming exchange.

The waitress put one hand on my shoulder and the other on Andrea's arm as she lowered herself into the chair next to us. "Is there anything I can get you two?"
I could tell Andrea's lust had not faded as my hand retreated to her knee; it was still driving her forward. "I have never done this before..." she said, pausing for the slightest of moments, "but we both find you extremely attractive and wanted to know if you'd be interested in joining us after your shift?"
I gulped down the football sized lump in my throat as I awaited the waitress's reaction.
Andrea hurriedly followed herself up. "If not, we completely understand. And I really hope we aren't offending you, it's just that we have been looking at you all night and we thought you were doing the same. I just hope we haven't been imagining it." Having said that, Andrea laughed nervously.
"Oh? No. You didn't imagine it at all." the waitress replied half giggling herself, tapping Andreas other knee with her hand. "This is so strange. I mean, I've watched you two and I think you are both very attractive. The more I see, the more I want to see. I can't even believe I am saying this but where would we go?"
Andrea looked at me inquisitively. "Um, we have a hotel room down the street. We could all have a few drinks there."
I followed Andrea quickly, "We can talk there. Have a few drinks and see what happens. No expectations, just some fun and laughs." After saying that, I felt like Andrea and I were interviewing someone for a job. We seemed so tight, tense, and clumsy. But again, we were out of our element. This was new for each of us. Hell, even my first threesome was more an accident than planned encounter (for all I knew, that is).
The waitress gave what can only be described as a bashful look as she smiled innocently. "Give me ten minutes to get someone to cover the rest of my shift and close out. I'll be right back."
"Sure!" Andrea and I proclaimed simultaneously.

There we sat, waiting for our guest... nervously smiling at one another in unexplainable anticipation.

My Tell-Tale Heart

Ten years ago... I could have been a father. It's hard to accept that thought. Hell, typing it out alone took more energy and determination than I ever think you, the reader, could grasp. It is something that has embedded itself into my brain, deep into the furthest and darkest reaches. I will not say there isn't a day that goes by that I do not think about it, because that would be an utter lie. I've done so much to hide it from myself, to bury it... just so it isn't a constant visual. But it is very much like the body a murderer buries in their back yard; it may be out of sight, but it's always THERE. It is my Tell-Tale Heart... and it beats on and on.

I was 16 years old. 16! I didn't have a grasp on anything... hell, I still don't. Yet I could have been a father; having a child with a woman I barely knew. I had already been working a year at some menial job... but just started a new one selling computers. I considered it a step in the right direction to my career of choice at the time, computer hardware/software engineering. It accomplished the opposite however. I spent more time selling computers to make commission and socializing with my female coworkers than I ever did actually researching the product I was selling. Anyways, they paired up "the new kid" (me), with the customer service rep (we shall call her Sarah).

Sarah was a community college graduate in her mid twenties stuck at a dead end job. She was attractive, but plainly and pleasantly so. Upon meeting, she went right into the ropes of the job, cutting out any and all small talk a normal person might attempt in a similar situation. I allowed her to press on for a few hours until she had exhausted every lesson she could teach. That is the moment I took my cue. At that point in my life, I was still a fairly innocent soul. I hadn't developed the addiction I would eventually harbor for sex, nor was I more than a casual and social drinker. I was a eager young lad with a friendly and likable air to him. However, like any boy that age... sex was something I wanted to have as much as possible. It was something I tried to work towards but limitedly so, as I didn't possess the intelligence or experience I would gain later in life. This job would lead to the end of my innocence.

As we sat there, unable to do anything because it had all been done; I took notice that she was timid, hesitant to make eye contact. This surprised me as she was nearly a decade my senior. Why would she be intimidated or shy around me? I tried to ease her tension with pleasantries and humor until we soon found ourselves engrossed in conversation and ignoring our duties at work. By the end of my first day, I was sure I could have her... so we set up a "date" for the following night and parted ways.

The date was as typical as they can get for a young man. We ate at some shit hole eatery like TGI Fridays, flirted endlessly, and pelted each other with sexual innuendos. The details are lost to me now, but I do recall our waiter vividly. He was the spiky hairdo guido with an orange tan. He had leather bracelets and a sweat band midway up his forearm as if he were a basketball player. A douchebaggish look that is popular now, but back then was not something you saw often. I guess this guy was an innovator for losers across America. Regardless, I remember looking at him with disgust and making a mental note: 'Never, ever, be like this cretin.' He must have sensed I was going to be getting some that night because he gave us free dessert on him. How nice. He didn't cock block, he did the opposite, he cock promoted. As we ate our dessert, we came to the decision to head back to her place; so I threw cash on the table and off we went. On an unrelated side note, I'm sure I'd find that orange zilch at the same TGI Fridays with the same look to this day.

When we got there, I was met with a harsh realization... her siblings lived with her. Both younger than her; younger than I even. Nowadays, I'd use that opportunity to retreat. Something "would come up" and I'd take off, as I know there is little chance of quality sex in such a situation. But young, foolish me was going to get what I had coming to me god dammit! So I stuck around and watched a movie with these people. What a creepy thought... me trying to invade their sisters pants as they all watch a movie with family bonding and happiness engrossing the troupe. I understand now that she was seeing how her siblings would react towards me... to see if I was "worth her time." They got a kick out of me, so things continued to progress smoothly.

Bed time came for the younglings, so I bid them goodnight and waited impatiently for the heathens to disappear. Once they did, my date returned to her sexual under-toned state and we started to drink. Things get blurry yet again and we find ourselves tip-toeing past the siblings bedrooms to get to hers. I guess I didn't really think that sex in the next room over would be just as loud as walking by a bedroom door, or perhaps I didn't care. She was liquored up, so she didn't seem to mind either. I quietly closed her door, as she already lay naked ... having stripped as she approached the bed. I did likewise on my way to join her. There was no foreplay whatsoever. She literally pulled me into her in one precise motion. And as she gripped my hips, she motioned me in and out of her with an increasingly furious pace.

Things did not last long, as I was fairly sober and the anticipation had built all night. She remained as muffled as she could, covering her own face with a pillow. Regardless, I could still hear her moans through it. I felt her fingernails dig deeper into my rear after each thrust, pulling me into her, and pushing me out of her quicker and quicker. I got lost in the sensation. As I heard her near orgasm and felt her tense up, clawing at me like a rabid animal... the urge to come finally overwhelmed me as well. I was as close as she was at that exact moment. I murmured how I was about to come and she did likewise. I tried to pull out of her, but she hurriedly said "No, no, no... you feel so good. Come inside me." I still tried to pull away, but her hands and legs wrapped around my backside in a pre-orgasm vice-like grip. With that, we came together. A moment of pure bliss. Complete and total euphoria exploded through our bodies. All that tension was released as our minds drifted on wave after wave of pleasure.

We collapsed onto one another, breathing heavily... trying to reel our minds back into reality. Once we did, we were faced with the sudden realization of our momentous stupidity. In our hurry to fuck, we had completely forgotten to cover up. And once inside, the sweet feeling of flesh on flesh silenced the voice of safe sex. The lust cleared from our minds simultaneously, when we suddenly snapped "Oh shit!" looks at one another. She rose to her feet, wrapping a towel around her waist as I scurried to put my clothing back on piece by piece; searching her bedroom floor like a blind man in a fire. "I'm going to wash up... out. Be right back." she hurriedly said as she disappeared from the bedroom, heading to the bathroom in an attempt to flush our juices from her body.

I found myself alone in this womans bedroom, sitting at the foot of her bed. The only source of illumination was produced by a tiny night-light plugged into the hallway wall. The silence was completely deafening... it was as if I could hear the pressure building from the anxiety within me. My head fell into my hands as I let out a sigh, a display of the utter defeat I was feeling. I remember looking at the crotch of my pants, feeling resentful... hatred for my dick, for myself. It sat there flaccid, having fulfilled its only impulse and leaving me with the horrors to deal with. Even a young me knew what horrors could indeed arise from this catastrophe. Was I going to be the next poster boy for condoms? A 16 year old daddy with no future to look forward to? I just wanted to turn back time and stop all this from ever happening!

I don't know how long I sat there, it seemed like an eternity, but eventually Sarah returned. She closed the door behind her and told me she took care of everything, that she cleaned herself well and there was no need to worry. While that was an absurd statement, it brought me a measure of relief. I used her fake reassurance as a mask to hide an ugly truth. This would all simply blow over and be a lesson learned. I didn't stay much longer afterwards, and we parted ways rather awkwardly. It was as if we didn't even want to look at one another. I hoped into my car and left, eventually getting lost in a city I hardly knew. I didn't retrace my steps getting there because I was focused on the nervousness inside my body... I simply drove. A 20 minute ride took me close to 2 hours until I finally made it back home. Naturally I didn't get a wink of sleep.

The following day at work was merciful, as I had finished my training and moved to the opposite end of the building. I only bumped into Sarah a few times each day, with barely enough time to exchange general pleasantries. We acted normal towards one another, but the lusty vibe we harbored for one another had vanished. Things weren't weird, yet they were certainly different. Perhaps we were both waiting for the inevitable bullet... something we knew was going hit us, even if we continued to pretend and hope it wouldn't. After several very busy days in which we had no communication whatsoever, Sarah approached me and asked to exchange email and IM addresses, just so we could continue to stay in touch if work prevented us from doing so. I felt it was a good idea, so we swapped information. Then... time slipped by until the next major event in my life.

That occurred some measure of days after, as I sat at my computer desk chatting online with friends. I distinctly remember conversing with a woman named Nicole. She was an ex girlfriend of a friend and I wanted to fuck her desperately. My, how quickly a young man can recover from what I experienced only weeks prior, huh? We were essentially making plans to do so when I received an IM from Sarah. The first few minutes of conversation are wiped from my mind, because I wasn't paying much attention to it. I was well into setting a day to meet with Nicole when I got THE message. "I'm late. Actually, I'm pregnant." Time stood still. Seconds ticked away like hours. My only response was... "Are you sure?" TICK... TOCK. I'm sure her response was instantaneous, but the wait seemed to drag on forever. "Yes. I went to the doctor this morning." Nicole's blinking messages built up and remained ignored. I forgot I ever even spoke with her; I just stared at Sarah's IM. 'Yes. I went to the doctor this morning.' That bullet had officially JFK'd me.

The rest was simply one of three automated responses men have to this situation.
1) They can be joyous about it.
2) They can deny it completely and claim it isn't theirs and that the woman is a liar/whore.
Or what I did...
3) Accept responsibility and say you are willing to do whatever is necessary to take care of your fuck-up.

I told her I would go along with whatever she decided to do. That I'd be there for her and do any amount of work needed to support her. Was that what I wanted? No. I wanted this to all go away. I wanted it to never have happened, or for her to get an abortion... but I knew that wasn't something I could suggest. It was her body and she was going to decide what to do as she saw fit. When she typed "I have already decided to get an abortion. I researched what will happen, what it will cost, and what I should expect," I felt odd. It was what I wanted, yet there was something distressing about it. I am not one of those "life at conception" types. Nor do I believe in God... I say fuck God, but something about this hurt me on some level.

She proceeded to educate me on the entire matter. The description of the abortion process made me cringe. I felt nauseous, and couldn't even begin to imagine how she felt. The cost of it seemed trivial in comparison to the impact this decision would have on our lives forever. Her choice to keep or abort this potential child would quite literally determine the rest of our lives, regardless of me being only 16. Each message back and forth took many minutes as we both searched for the words to type. We didn't blame each other, we blamed ourselves. The conversation was a bullet point presentation on what we would do to remedy our folly, nothing more. After it was done, I signed off without even thinking about revitalizing my conversation with Nicole.

While we morphed into bare acquaintances after our clumsy night together, the abortion talk practically turned us into strangers (which I now realize we truly were after all). We only spoke when we absolutely needed to and treated each other more like ghosts than people. Again, there was no actual hate... but rather, a disconnect between us that could never be repaired regardless of what we attempted. I paid my half of the abortion in installments, since I was hardly making money at the time. At first I'd hand the money to her in person, but even that seemed surreal and fucking insane... so we decided that me putting the money in her car inside an envelope was best for us.

I remember the week she had the abortion; I recall the exact day vividly. It was the only time we spoke in weeks. She approached me and told me she had the rest that day off, and then the entire week as well. She didn't need to tell me why... I knew. I looked her in the eye and asked her if she would like my company for the day; she returned my eye contact and politely declined. With that we gave one another an empty smile and she turned and walked out the door, entering her car and finding the last payment from me in an envelope on her cars seat. I watched her drive away, my mind remaining empty in an effort to protect me from whatever feelings might have made me human. It was that moment I forever changed, for good or ill.

The only other conversation we ever had afterwards, was 2 days later when she returned an email from me... answering my question if she were well. She told me everything went fine and she felt much better. She must have felt what I felt however, because she added that I should not feel as if this was my fault alone. She said that she and I made the same mistake many others make... and that the blame should be balanced on both our shoulders, not mine alone. She closed her email with a simple "I'm sorry." I replied one final time with "As am I." We never spoke or acknowledged each other again. We worked there for another year together, but didn't so much as glance at one another. Personally, I got into my drinking and sexual addiction at that time... having slept with many other coworkers, but she never seemed to take notice... nor would I have cared if she had. My last day at that job, I remember saying my goodbyes to everyone and walking to the exit, passing her desk. I tilted my head slightly to catch a final look at her from the side of my eye, and I noticed her doing the same. A years worth of silence was spoken with that 2 seconds of eye contact. The door closed behind me and I never looked back.

Time has aged me and I have changed in many ways. Numerous lessons have been learned. But regardless of how this life ends for me, I'll always wonder what happened to Sarah. I'll always wonder if her life worked out for the better. I'll wonder if she ever regrets the decision she made; a decision we both made. More importantly however, I'll wonder what it would have been like to be a father. Who would I have become? Was it a boy or a girl? Would it have had my nose? Was it the right decision... was it? There can never be an answer to that question. So it will sit under the floorboards of my mind, always remaining...

... always beating, on and on.

Stuck In The Middle.

While recently on vacation, I had one of the most surreal and inspiring moments of my life. It was a night of constant stimulus to my senses. I was sitting by a bonfire, lakeside to an enormous body of fresh water. I was perfectly intoxicated. Everything I focused on seemed enhanced and more vivid, with all other surrounding objects slightly blurred out... becoming filler, nothing more. I "saw" things differently. And it wasn't caused by psychedelic drugs or mental instability. It was simply one of those moments you experience in life in which everything has meaning and you simply... understand.

It was a cool night with a breeze that soothed my skin with each light gust. The fire was enormous. Sitting six feet back, the incredible warmth was still able to easily push the nighttime chill away. As I sat there, I stared deeply into the heart of the flames. That fire represented safety and destruction, life and death... all at once. The glowing wood fueled the flames as they danced towards the sky. It seemed as if they were the fingers of hell, desperately clutching at the heavens. You can't help but harbor this primal feeling deep within you as you sit near a fire like that. It's something that shaped our very evolution, making us the advanced species we are to this day. Without the control of fire, we simply do not exist as we are now. We may very well have still been man-apes, wearing furs and chucking rock tipped spears at animals we need, in order to survive another day. A fire like that provides this inherent feeling of security and comfort; but you respect its destructive nature and remain aware of it.

The night continued on as everyone surrounded the fire... occasionally chit chatting, but most remained silent, instead choosing to stare into the flames as my buddy Joe played the guitar. It all seemed so perfect and simple. Shouldn't life be just this? Fuck all the worries. The bills, jobs, and taxes. Global warming, terrorists, and genocide. It all disappears here, and what you are left with is sustenance and security from a fire. To live.. remain safe... and be free. There is nothing more pure and enjoyable in life. A new car is nice... but the feeling cannot compare to being well fed, and simply relaxing by a fire without a care in the world.

Time passed and a few of my friends retired for the night. Those who remained were rewarded for it by witnessing an awe-inspiring thunderstorm across the giant lake. The lighting traveled from cloud to cloud with a purple glow, only to suddenly shoot into the earth below with violent streaks of white and blue. The brilliant light pierced the absolute darkness and highlighted the clouds in a beautiful array of hues. The thunder rumbled over the lake and into our ears, joining the crackling of the fire. It was strange, witnessing a violent storm like that but not being a part of it. Instead we sat there unaffected, essentially watching a real life documentary playing out before our very eyes. Amazing how this world works, is it not?

As the storm pressed on across the lake, the mellowness continued at our fire. Above us, all was clear and I could see more stars than I ever knew existed. Millions, billions of them, covering almost every inch of the nighttime sky. I thought to myself how there were so many more I couldn't even see with my naked eye. Hell, I could barely see any of the ones I was gazing upon now through the smog and light pollution back home above Boston. All of the stars twinkled pleasantly, hiding the very source of that twinkling... which are hundreds of massive nuclear explosion occurring one after another, over and over again. While watching the storm made me feel small; watching all the stars made me feel non existent.

Beer after beer was consumed, and its can tossed into the fire. More and more of my fellow vacationers were drunkenly retreating from the fire and into their respective cabins looking to crash for the night. The few die hards remained; those of us who get little to no sleep and do nothing but drink. Two others as well, including our guitarist Joe... who were making their attempt to join the ranks of us animals. The night continued to play out with the female newcomer nodding in and out of consciousness and having to go to bed. Then the unexpected happened and my fellow die hards finally called it a night. It was around 4AM at this point. I was disappointed, but Joe was making a valiant attempt to pull the all-nighter with me. So I tossed on more wood and sat back down, continuing to drink.

I was plastered and Joe was borderline comatose. He slipped in and out of consciousness at the fire...clearly, he wasn't going to make it. Every time I rose to get a beer, the dormant drunk would rush into my head, causing me to zig zag to the cooler. As sunrise neared, I began celebrating it with shots by waking up Joe. He'd drink, stay awake in his chair a few minutes, then nod off. After doing this to him for three shots... I let him sleep. Instead I drank by myself, watching the sky begin to turn as I listened to the radio. I didn't know many stations up here, but I was so drunk I didn't care. I tolerated whatever came on. The moon was above the cabins to my back, and the sky mixed with dark and light blues, as well as oranges and deep reds. I sat and watched it all fold into itself.

I remember looking at the sky as a painting, an assortment of colors I never imagined I'd ever see up there. The stars began to fade behind this rush of color, and the moon began to sink and shrink; it no longer seemed so close I could reach out and touch it. The sun broke the watery barrier on the horizon, shooting rays of yellow into the painted sky... slowly transforming the canvas into the soft blue we all know well. And as all this was occurring, Stealers Wheel "Stuck in the Middle with You" was playing. The irony of it happening at the moment I was witnessing (and in essence, in the middle of) the death of night and birth of day struck me instantly. Combined with the drunk, I felt euphoric.

"I made it." Joe said as he roused from his drunken unconsciousness, squinting at the rising sun.
I gave a little shrug. "Yeah, it seems you did."
With that, Joe grabbed his guitar and stumbled into his cabin in search of sleep.
"Now this..." I said to the empty chairs around me, "...is life."

Bringing The Blood Back Into Rock N' Roll.

I wasn't sure where I was. The hazy memories of travel mixed with my recollection of home. Was I home, in a different state, or an entirely different country altogether? The room was dark, but I was pretty sure I felt a bed under me. I was drunk as fuck and the absence of senses had me tripping. I made myself move, but I couldn't see myself in the darkness. I grew terrified. Was I dead? What happened to me? WHERE THE HELL WAS I?!

I swung my feet out until I felt a floor. Good, something other than suspended animation. My mind was racing and I wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was my inability to recall anything. Not moments, hours, or days ago. I felt the urge to just run. My body hunched forward, preparing to make an escape while my eyes darted back and forth between the darkness, looking for some means of exit. I had to get out of here!

I swung my fist out to see if I'd hit something, and I suddenly felt pain course up my arm followed by a loud shattering of glass. I instinctively held my arm away from my body and felt a warm trickle flow down it. I smell of blood filled the air. I was still trying to piece together the information in my brain when I heard the loud crash of a door being kicked open behind me; the hallway light poured in allowing me to finally see my own arm and surroundings. I was in a hotel room. The intruder screamed as if he were going berserk, turning on the lights as he stormed in. I heard women screaming and shouting behind him. My senses suddenly went from complete depravity to total overload. The lights, the sound, the people pouring into my room. What the fuck is going on?

I looked back at my arm which was now covered in blood, then I noticed the lamp I had hit in my blindness. Pieces of it were scattered all over the end table and my pillow. The voice became familiar... it was Gus. I looked over at him and noticed he was booze stained and red faced... clearly out of his mind. The drunken whores behind him were less defined, as they all looked the same. They carried in bags of booze and a radio blasting music. I scanned the rest of the room and noticed Sean and Case just now rising out of bed, having been awoken by Gus's entrance. It flooded back to me... we were in Cancun. I wasn't sure when it was, but I at least knew where I was. I sighed with relief and slumped my head forward, staring at my feet.

Gus hopped on Sean and Case's bed, shaking his beer and spraying it everywhere. The whores did likewise, covering the entire room and us in various alcohols. I felt a stinging on my fingers and knuckles, so I rose from the bed and walked to my suitcase... grabbing a white T-shirt and wrapping it around my arm. I know Sean and Case were yelling at Gus, but I couldn't make any of it out through the combined noise. A few other friends walked in, and even more women. Gus was now screaming about partying all night, that there would be no sleep this week... at all. I nodded to myself in agreement. I didn't recall how I even ended up at the hotel room, let alone passing out. I approached the nearest woman who possessed a fifth of Bacardi Limon, holding out my hand. Gus turned and saw me snatch the bottle and grew even more insane. Sean and Case stared at me wide eyed, like I was a sane man suddenly turned mad by this nut case. I tilted the bottle in the air and chugged.

More booze sprayed the room as people packed in and partied. I have never recalled an instance where so many people were so violently drunk in all my life. It was as if the shattered lamp were a catalyst for mayhem. Once people noticed it, things started to get destroyed. Tables went flying off our balcony. Chairs were tossed around and broken. The beds caved in from people jumping and dancing on them. Finally, Gus somehow kicked in the TV set, sending sparks and glass everywhere. The room was completely destroyed in a few short hours.

We were in a secluded wing of the hotel though, surrounded entirely by rooms occupied by the fellow maniacs who were partying with us. So the destruction went on uninterrupted until the damage could be done. I personally don't recall when the hotel staff swung by, but next I knew... the three of us were in a cab with our luggage attempting to find another place to stay. Our security deposit was long gone and more was waiting to be charged to Sean's credit card once the extent of the damage could be measured. It's all a blur to me afterwards. We ended up getting a room in some shit hole place, but by the time we checked in I was basically dead weight. Sean and Case put me in a hammock behind the hotel and left me there for the night while they went upstairs to sleep it off.

Obviously, waking up the following morning in a completely different and unknown place yet again made it all seem dream-like and surreal. My arm had dried blood all over it, and my hand was essentially one encrusted clot of scab. I had mosquito bites over my neck and ears. The bumps were giant, created by unknown insects of enormous size. I was also wearing the very bloody T-shirt I had wrapped my arm in the previous night. I reeked of alcohol and stale beer. I literally looked like a serial killer, or the victim of one who narrowly escaped. The area was fairly busy and the people looked at me as if I had just returned from war... which I guess I had in some respects.

I didn't know where I was or how I got there. I remembered the destruction of the hotel room and a cab ride, but that is it. As far as I was aware, we were still in our original room but had ventured out during the night. I assumed I lay down on our nighttime journey and everyone lost track of me. So via cab, I went all the way back to the original hotel room and tried to remain as unseen as possible considering my appearance. Once at the door to our room, I knocked to no avail. Finally one of the party goers from the previous night saw me in the hall and informed me of what happened. I shook my head, thanked him, and headed back from whence I came. I found Case in the breakfast area of the main lobby and was shown our new accommodations, where I showered and treated all my wounds.

Everyone ended up pitching in to help pay for the room, even the random strangers, which was nice considering it was a team effort put into decorating it. To this day, I am still unsure what it ended up costing over all. I let my portion of the deposit ride and left it at that. I figured it covered the lamp I busted. I still have a few marks on my hand and a couple visible scars on my fingers from that night... but I'll always remember it fondly as the day a bunch or drunk asshole strangers decided to bring some old school hotel smashing to Cancun.

We're All Going To Be Dead Someday.

I grasp each side of the sink as I stare into the mirror, into my own eyes. I don't focus on anything... my mind isn't mine at the moment. The faucet continues to run and the water warms, but the cloudiness in my head has yet to pass. All I can hear is the running water, but it seems muffled and soft. Almost like someone is soothingly trying to hush me.
::Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh::

The gentle noise continues as I focus on the black circles in the middle of my eyes. I envision myself falling into them; and then they fall into themselves. Slowly, smoothly, it repeats... my mind falling into the blackness of itself again and again. The vision speeds up, and as it does the soothing sound of running water grows louder and more hostile. The falling is no longer controlled... it becomes erratic and choppy. I can actually feel my mind trying to get control of the image, the thought. It's as if I am watching a film that suddenly gets torn from its reel. The flowing water becomes as loud as a waterfall, pounding the jagged rocks at its base. It becomes total chaos, then suddenly... it stops.

Snapping into reality, I shake my head back and forth in an attempt to rid myself of the madness I just experienced. The warm water brings me a sense of refreshment when my cupped hands splash it into my face. I pat myself dry with a hand towel and then stretch towards the ceiling with both hands. Standing on the balls of my feet, arching my back, my muscles ache and the sounds of harsh creaking emanate from various joints for reasons unknown. 'Aren't I too young for this shit?' I wonder to myself as I come out of my stretching. I move my head in a large circle; then suddenly jerk it to the left. The crack it makes sounds hollow and sickly. Without pause, I tilt it to the right... and again, a dull crack echoes from my spine. I then run my hands along my sides, feeling my ribs. I don't know why I do this in the morning, but I think it is a way for me to bring sensation to my skin, to make sure I can feel. And as my hands quickly run down my sides, that is when I feel it.

Directly under my rib cage, towards my side, a hard lump under my skin. I poke it, making sure it isn't a misplaced rib. I assume if I had a broken rib... I'd know it was there to begin with. This wasn't. It was a painless mass under my flesh. Two finger tips wide. I never wonder "What is it?" or "God, I should get this checked!" I guess I just assume the worst. I am a statistic. We all are in a sense. Sure, it could be something simple... something minor. But it could also be a tumor of cancerous origin. We all want to take the optimistic view on the subject of our health. We all want to believe we are that 66.6 percentile that won't get Cancer, but there is a HUGE 33.3% that will. Someone has to be the 33.3%. Am I that 33.3%? Are you?

Everyones mortality reaches 100% on a long enough time line. I realize I am a creature on this rock, with a body, a being, that is destined to age, die, and decay. It is the order, and regardless of how much we play god with science, medicine, or religion... it won't stop each and every one of our curtain calls. Our efforts may produce an encore or two, but when the show does go on... it will be without us. So I'll go to the doctors whenever I get a spare moment, and see what I have to look forward to. But I won't be surprised for the best, or worst, possibilities. I'm a realist. We're all gonna be dead someday.

Beautiful.

You're beautiful to look at... I'll admit that much. I'd certainly fuck you, and I'd do so with the precise attention to detail I give any woman I want to watch orgasm violently. After all, my sexual addiction revolves around viewing that primal beauty a woman displays as her entire body spasms, solely focusing on the repetitive wave of pleasure and throbbing throughout her body. Sure, I'd fuck just about anybody regardless, but you... I'd savor. I don't know if that grants you any further confidence in yourself, or if it helps solidify my observation of how wonderful you look... but it can't hurt it any.

However, upon speaking with you more frequently, and witnessing your general behavior... I find myself saddened. You are flirtatious, but little else. It is quite obvious you are aware of your own beauty, and that you are using it to its fullest advantage. Please, do not misconstrue what I am saying to you. I do not think you are an arrogant cunt. Nor do I think you are pompous, bitchy, or conceited. I wish you were those things, then I wouldn't feel as I do now because of you. You are an appreciable person even being as empty as you are.

But as I sat there watching you, watching everything as I tend to do, I realized there will be a point when your beauty fades. That is the course of life and it is inevitable. The physical stunning you possess will reach its end, and I wonder what will become of you? You seem void of any substantive quality other than your beauty. I like to consider myself a very astute observer of things, of people, and I do not sense a redeeming characteristic in you. Even your pleasantness feels empty and meaningless... as if you act in such a way merely because it was implanted into you at birth. You are a mannequin, and you are hollow.

You will spend years of your life using men to your advantage, getting what you want. You shall avoid marriage, and something that truly matters... an emotional bond. Who needs that when you have someone willing to pay your bills? Life will seem perfect... until all the activity that went on around you suddenly becomes still. Your bills will start to go unpaid. Men will no longer flock to you; instead they shall hover greedily around a younger woman who could be the daughter you never cared to have. Waking up each morning, you will look into a mirror, cake on the makeup that covers your "flaws," and you'll pity yourself. Pity yourself, and resent those women who have their youth... your youth. Time will suddenly feel like impending doom, and you will desperately seek meaning in it all. You will NEED that bond you shunned oh so many times, but you'll soon learn those chances have come and gone long ago.

Chaos will swirl like a vortex in your mind. What is happening? Why this, why now, why this way? You ate these heathen men for breakfast! How dare they ignore you for younger, inferior women! Women who only have youthful beauty! Women who don't have what you have!

...

What you have? What do you have? You had youth and beauty; they have faded with time. This is the moment you finally understand... it is the moment you gain perspective on what you have been, and all you have lacked your entire existence. You will understand that those women now possess what you have lost, and that it is the cycle of life. You will accept that your physical beauty has been stripped, and that you never developed anything else because you relied on it solely... now it is no more. There will be nothing left to fight for. There will be no hope in you. You shall sit on a chair, lonely in your small apartment. Staring at the enveloping dusk, smiling, remembering how good you looked in the black dress you wore to the bar that night.

The Perfection of Nothing.

I leaned forward, my chest hovering over a railing of the VooDoo Lounge... perched 41 stories into the sky. It all seemed so perfect. My mind was completely cleared, but slowly processing everything coming at me. I simply stood there, staring at the strip and drinking. Looking at the it from this perspective was as fascinating as it was revealing. It was so alive. Lights emanating from it, penetrating the desert night. Helicopters ran their courses to and fro, repeating the same tiny journey minute after minute. Cars were backed up the entire length of it... yet the neighboring roads remained dark and barren. All that life was concentrated on one length of road.

It seemed the entire population of the world was huddled there. But even with the billions of watts of lighting shooting into the sky, it could only hold the darkness away so far. It clung around the strips protective bubble... like a predator stalking outside the lair of its prey. The darkness was simply waiting for its chance to reclaim what is rightfully his. I found myself wondering, when will the light die? When will the sound of silence take back its throne in this desert? When will this artificial life be purged?

I shifted my view to look at the plunge beneath me. Below, the blacktop and tiny toy cars viewed more like a painting than reality. The Rio Casino felt like a wanderer compared to the rest. It sits by itself, outside the protective light of the strip. As if it were cast away from civilization, and now all it can do is watch society from afar. It is very much like me... watching and waiting for all of this to implode. Or perhaps doing so myself long beforehand.

I was lucky enough to learn early of the truths about Vegas. It's evil. Money, chips, someones life... being exchanged at every hand. Few people win big, most lose bigger, and the tiniest amount of us break even consistently... simply because we understand the beast. Do not risk what you cannot afford to lose is the saying, but few adhere to it. It truly wouldn't be gambling then... would it? The only way to succeed in Vegas is to not care. If you do not care about something, you cannot risk it. Therefore, if you lose it, you haven't lost yourself. You have to have nothing and expect nothing, you have to be completely empty, to even have a chance. I just happen to be that empty.

But despite its shadowy dangers, Vegas is still very much fragile and artificial. All the lights... the glitz, the glamor. Fake tits and overpriced suits. Extravagant shows and multi-billion dollar hotels. Joy and utter despair carried like mist on a breeze. It's all a mask. Once it's stripped away, all that remains is sand in the middle of nowhere. And that is where I stood. 40 stories up of nowhere. Surrounded by nothing... and it was perfect.

The Tomb.

It was practically a coffin. The entire housing unit was made of poured concrete and cement, encased by blood red bricks. The floors were hard, unforgiving... and despite the heat of a mid summer night, placing your bare feet on them would send a shiver of cold running through your entire body. The bed was positioned in front of a steel window frame, where a box fan rested on the 2 foot window sill... blowing the semi cooled city air inside the furnace-like bedroom. It wasn't much, but the breeze felt like a gift from God as you slept in a 90 degree night.

The apartment was furnished with the essentials, but it never felt like a home. Even at that young age, I realized people should not live in cement poured, tomb like structures. The room was scarcely highlighted by a combination of moonlight and street lights... which always cast a faint, pale, yellow-blue tint on everything. It was extremely eerie, but it certainly helped in purging childhood fear of the dark and unseen. I became unafraid of strange noises, or the shadow that danced creepily in the corners darkness. It actually became a source of entertainment. Dance for me puppet.... DANCE!

Having to urinate late into the night was the worst. I'd do whatever I could to avoid it... going so far as to hold it until my bladder began to ache. But sometimes you had to do, what you had to do. Placing my bare feet on the cement floor while seated on the bed, I'd remain there for a moment just to let the shivers from the cold pass through my body. Once they subsided, I groggily made my way to the door of the bedroom. Sliding my hand up and down the wall in the hallway, I'd finally locate the light switch and flip it. Fluorescent light would douse the hallway and kitchen in a bright, pulsating glow. Roaches scurried back to wherever it was they came from. There was never any reason for them to be in this apartment... there was nothing in it. Barely any food, only a single plant, and little else. It just wasn't a productive environment for them to be in, which is probably why they never went any further than the kitchen cabinets. But seeing them crawl always filled me with hate.

All it took was one disgusting slob of a resident. One neglectful fucktard that lived in squalor and the rest of the units' inhabitants would suffer. As if living in the projects weren't hard enough. You could always tell which apartment brought the roaches. It was the one with the family who didn't give a fuck about anyone but themselves. Music would blare well into the night but the neighbors wouldn't complain for fear of getting shot. Out of the many people who lived in that tiny apartment, none seemed to have a job. However, when food stamp and welfare day arrived... they hovered over the mailboxes like a flock of vultures. Occasionally you would walk by and their front door would happen to be ajar; looking in you could see garbage bags strewn about and junk everywhere. Fucking heathens... they got theirs eventually.

The bathroom had no appeal and felt the emptiest and coldest of all the rooms. It was small and prison-like in its set up. The giant sink was closest to the door, jutting from the wall like a dwarf's bathtub. It had two settings: Off or 1,000 gallons a minute. Next, the wall-mounted toilet flushed like a tsunami. Clearly built for functionality, not comfort. Located beyond that, on the back wall, was the shower. Essentially, three walls of enormous tile with a shower curtain dangling haphazardly in front. The shower head poked through a hole crudely drilled into one of the tile. The water pressure was almost unbearably harsh, like standing at the base of a 50 foot water fall. I literally had to cover my testicles while showering for fear the jet of water would hit them and cause excruciating pain. All of this was permanent and immovable. No comforting modifications could be made, it was there forever. And all of it was white and cold. I imagine it's what hell would look like if painted to resemble heaven. After finishing my piss, I'd flush and wash my hands. The sound of the plumbing bouncing around inside the walls would echo throughout the tomb like apartment. If you weren't accustom to it, it would jar you awake each and every time.

Walking back to the bedroom, I would hear the chatter of people hanging out by the rear door of the building. Sometimes I'd get curious as to what these people were doing. I'd quietly look out the living room window, watching and listening to them. They drank and smoked as they sat on the cement benches. Never too loud, they seemed almost respectful of the sleeping residents. Of course, the real reason for their subdued nature was because they sold drugs and wanted to remain somewhat quiet. Watching them was almost relaxing in a sense. They were free. They hung out together well into the night... laughing, talking... only stopping when someone would approach them. One of the bench goers would disappear into the building with the new comer, both reemerging a minute later. The man would return to his bench, and chatter would resume. They used the basement as the transaction spot. No one ever went down the basement other than the sellers. It was empty, dark, damp, and occasionally housed a family or two of rats.

Some nights I would sit and watch them for hours, but I didn't have much interest to do so that night... I wanted to retreat to the mild comfort the box fan provided me. I'd shut the hallway lights back off, knowing the roaches were once again crawling from their holes. Shutting the bedroom door, I'd stand there for several seconds and allow my eyes to readjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight and street lights didn't seem as illuminating as they did before my bathroom break. I rolled into bed, letting out a sigh of relief as my hair blew around with the breeze of the fan. From hell, back into heaven. I was never able to quickly fall back into sleep, so I'd lay there and focus on my senses. The feel of the cool breeze. It was like I could tell where each and every hair on my head was swaying. The sounds of the city. Sirens, laughter, crying, cars. It all helped soothe me. The aroma of the city was always the last thing I'd distinctly remember before drifting back into sleep.

"If there is hope, it lies in the proles."

Soundtrack of Me? Maybe...?

Stolen from Sabrina C. Check out her Blog if you enjoy well written randomness.

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie

opening credits;
Stevie Ray Vaughan - Texas Flood

waking up;
Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata

first day of high school;
Renée Fleming (Puccini) - O mio babbino caro (from Gianni Schicchi)

falling in love;
ZZ Top - La Grange

fight song;
Powerman 5000 - Nobody's Real

breaking up;
Missy Elliot - 4 My People

prom;
Jay-Z - Dirt Off Your Shoulder

life;
Ani Difranco - Adam and Eve (Living in Clip, Live)

mental breakdown;
Reveren Horton Heat - Psychobilly Freakout <--This oddly fits.

driving;
The Living End - Carry Me Home

flashback;
Billy Joel - Piano Man

getting back together;
Dean Martin - Mambo Italiano

wedding;
Dave Matthews Band - Too Much

birth of child;
ACDC - Big Balls

final battle;
Spacehog - In The Meantime

death song;
Fall Out Boy - This Ain't A Scene, Its An Arms Race

funeral song;
Deftones - Change

end credits;
Cream - Crossroads

How long has it been?

Years have passed... but in the grand scheme of things it could have been yesterday. I was at my worst; a shell of a being. Concerned only of satisfying the few addictions I had... you detested everything I was and stood for. I foolishly hurt your friend at the time, and myself. I still think about it to this day. I have no excuses and the only comfort you or she can gain from all this is the knowledge that on random evenings, I lie awake in my bed with it haunting my thoughts. I'll admit, I want it to go away and hope it shall some day... but it doesn't seem to be fading. It remains, coming out only when I am alone and in thought. Perhaps that is the reason I have never allowed myself to be alone since.

While young and unable to comprehend it then, I deserved to be hated. I felt the hate you harbored toward me every time you passed by. I looked into your eyes and saw it. And when you had to speak with me, it was in your voice. There was something about you and this complete hate that fascinated me. I don't recall looking at you twice when we first met one another, but ever since that passion, that hate, came towards me... I found myself watching you, studying you, and thinking about you more and more. I've never been one for neutralities. I crave extremes and you were my extreme.

I often play games with peoples minds because that is who I have always been. Calling me a simple liar and cheat would be insulting and far too simplistic. I am deceitful. I am smoke and mirrors. I see, observe, and use what I can to my advantage. I walk the line of right and wrong like a drunk during a sobriety test. Sometimes I stumble to one extreme or the other, but I am still attempting to walk that line in the middle. I sit on that wall of gray and have no intentions of ever touching a can of black or white paint. With your hate you got my attention, and with my attention you became the game.

It wasn't until you had to speak with me one day that I saw it in you... you wanted me. How or why I will never know. You still hated me, but you wanted me... and at that point I wanted you just as badly. I clearly remember the first time you entered my car, it felt so alien yet right all at once. Despite our plans, we didn't make it far. We parked at a nearby field and explored each other. I can still feel your lips for the first time. I can still feel that sensation I have craved ever since, that passion. It could never produce an actual relationship, it was way too primal... but it was the most intoxicating of highs I have ever experienced.

It went on for almost a year and it never once felt wrong. We were what we were, imperfect and in love with someone we simply didn't want to love. Time went by and I got worse. Despite our relationship, I was, and am still, an addict. I didn't want or need more, but it was there to be used and I greedily took it. I still can't quench it my dear, but I want you to know I have tried to ignore the thirst as best I can. We had never been together, we couldn't be, so you tried to cope with it... but when you finally found out about Lori, you snapped.

I want to tell you it was never her fault and I am glad to have heard you are the closest of friends once again. While she knew what you and I were, she also knew what we weren't. You and I knew there were no set rules in this game, anything goes. You hated me again. Hated sharing me. I assume that is the reason you made me choose. A choice we both knew would come. An outcome we already discussed before we even started so long ago. I try not to think of your tears... it is a part of you I never thought you'd show me.

Instead I remember our last night together in your attic room. Your bed in front of that large window. The way the moonlight use to paint your body in the most beautiful shades of color I have ever seen. You were finally asleep as I stood to leave for the last time. Looking down I remember thinking how empty the bed seemed with just you in it. Your back gently rose and fell with your breathing as I stood there gazing at you. I covered your nude body from the waist down with one sheet, knowing how you loved the feel of the breeze against your skin as you slept. I gave you one final kiss on the forehead and left your room. But the mental picture of you peacefully sleeping is one I still keep close to me.

It wasn't long ago... or so time tells me.

Yet years have passed... and it feels like an eternity ago.