Day 2 - VAPORS (con't)
Today's entry was an interesting one, because after reading yesterday's post my wife asked if Julie and Mickelson were going to have sex. I told her I didn't know. Also worth noting that I'm working on getting some cleaner formatting, but that is not the point of this, so is a secondary concern.
There’s a particular way she cocks her hip that slays me, and that hip cock is in full force right now. I look, she knows it. Grin. Slight stumble and in she comes.
“What’s up?”
She doesn’t hear me, or doesn’t bother to. Stalks to the kitchen and grabs a soda out of my fridge. My last one. She loves to take my last one. I flop down on the patchwork couch I saved from rats and panhandlers outside my walkup. I like it. It’s almost as tired as I am, and it gives Julie plenty of room to ply me, or stay away. She sits at the opposite end - staying away for now.
“You think when we’re 60 we’ll still be single, still messing around, still, y’know…”
“Who cares.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she says.
Conversation isn’t usually our thing. It’s good enough to get us to the humping, but otherwise can get pretty morose, and boring. My hand inches towards the remote. SportsCenter is good for edging her out, or forcing the issue.
“Something weird happened tonight.”
“What?”
“Y’know a guy named Reginald?”
“Does any one actually know a guy named Reginald?”
“I thought he was probably full of it, but he seems to know you…and me.”
“What happened?”
It’s hard to explain what exactly happens, why the fog lifts sometimes for me, but there are times when I feel my whole body, my whole self get, interested. You can tell me about the kitten you couldn‘t save from a drain pipe, or the girl whose lack of resistance didn’t register as a no in college, or even the beatings you let deadbeat lay on you under the spell of whatever anti-depressant was supposed to fix you. I’ll respond in whatever way seems like it’s what you want.
But sometimes, hiking a stretch of the Appalachian Trail, or watching an old man get too close to a young waitress, I’m suddenly invested. Emotionally. Like a vintage toy with the seal removed.
“I’m just chilling at the bar at Parcil’s, being ignored by Tammy as usual while I’m trying to get a refill.”
“What were you drinking tonight?”
“Martini. Shut up. So I’m about to tell the bitch to fuck off and learn how to do her goddamn job without being a goddamn bitch about everything when this dude with a very nice Omega framing his very nice forearm puts a drink down in front of me.”
“Nothing like getting roofied.”
“I’ve had worse. Anyway, he asks if I’m your friend. I’m like, sure as fuck. I love that kid! So then he pulls out these.”
Julie reaches into her back pocket and pulls out two tabs that fall somewhere between communion wafers and pepto bismol. I sit up and move toward her. The low rises she is sporting are exposing nearly as much as they cover and my hand naturally rests well below the small of her back. She smells really good tonight. Like raspberries. I usually think it’s too much. Tonight it’s comfort food.
“And?”
She’s blushing now. Always happens when we get to the doorstep. She’s fucked more guys than she can count, been that chick that does what the other girls don’t, but she’s a romantic at heart. Always turns into Princess Buttercup before the first kiss. Then she turns into a succubus.
“And he said we should take these together and your world will change forever.”
My hand encircles her waist. I feel like a boa ready to feed.
“My world? What’s in it for you?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Well, what the hell are they?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He said I will be the vessel that allows a great awakening.”
“Kinky.” My lips move to her neck,
“And he said we shouldn’t have sex.” Julie stands up. Beautiful view. Denial of access. Bad turn of events.
“Well that sucks, I’m pretty turned on here.”
It’s not like me to admit that sort of thing, but honesty can do in a pinch. And she’s got me amped up like one of those ‘roid beasts on the cover of a romance novel.
“Me too, but that part seemed important.”
The way she grabs some ice and tosses it at my lap seems premeditated.
“OK, so we’re not having sex. We should just take some drug that a total stranger gave you in a bar under weird fucking circumstances then?”
“I think so. What‘s the worst that could happen?”
Too obvious to detail. But I’m pissed and I need this energy to culminate in an activity.
“OK, fine.”
“Good.”
Julie hands me one of the tabs and we both take them. Simple as that. The best and worst ideas often germinate with a distinct lack of hoopla. Nothing sinister about the slight, sweet taste of the wafer going down. I was less aplomb when Julie fell to the floor seconds later.
I didn’t have time to react though, before I dissolved
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