Chapter 18 "Clawing for the Inevitable"

I tip toed my way back into Jaime's 4-plex. She lived up on Gaylord St. I got a better look at the front room of her house. I had discerned she really had just moved into her apartment recently. There were still some boxes in the corner next to her couch and there were some documents on a small desk that seemed to indicate her new lease and bills. I didn't snoop too much. I wasn't interested in anything more than her warm body and a little less than an hour of sleep before I had to report to work. Slipping off my shoes on the tiled kitchen floor, I opened a couple of cabinets to find a glass and filled it with water from her sink. I filled the Taco Bell cup once and chugged its entire contents. I filled it again and drank about a third of it. I was completely dehydrated and wondered how much my system could take before I completely broke down. I drank quite a bit yesterday, it only served to numb me to the shock of horrible things and delay my adrenal response. One could only wonder how much an abused body, with a moderately alcohol-compromised immune system such as mine, could take.

I began to wonder why I drink alcohol as much as I do. The glib responses to that question that I usually come up with are Irish genealogy, and general thugishness. These reasons pretend to be popular sentiment, but I never believe much of what people say about me anyway. Would I be more attractive or less attractive if I drank less? Well, I suppose that question should really read something like this: Who would I attract if I drank less? Who am I attracting now? Where is the Nancy to my Sid? The answers to either question are rather damning. A smarter question to ask would be, why do I drink like I do? Then you could ask: Who taught me this behavior? Could it be unlearned? Who am I without it? Just then I had this glimmer there was a hole in my chest the size of a fist that begged to be filled with something. That hole was dug out by something or someone that I hadn't completely grasped at the time. Also, at the time, I was just becoming aware of its existence. The Fisthole was mostly a cause to action, a lack of something that I kept burning for every night. A drink. A drug. A connection. Vindication. Trust. Sex.

Dear reader, I have the wonderful view of hindsight. Now, as I ask this question, I am still embroiled in the bitter war that became the reasons to write you this letter. Just know this: I am not any closer to answering many of the questions that I pose about myself. It's disgusting. There are many people, however, that never ask themselves questions like these. Thus, I know there are some people I like and interact with in my life, but will never become more than a passing acquaintance to me because I already know where they are going to end. They end at themselves, bubble headed, and posing, and eating their own words in the mirror. Myopia and narcissism should have a baby, a new word with its own combined definition. A synonym could be...American. That word is somewhat of a universal descriptor of a great many things. Often good. Sometimes bad.

I'm wondering this, because even now I'm struggling with some of these questions and, because of hindsight, I know Jaime will betray me. It makes what's about to happen so much more entertaining. I am standing in the living room of her 4-plex and I am prepared for this, but it doesn't matter. That hole in my chest is begging for something. It might as well be breathing and soft and warm. Do I have you rapt, or annoyed? Ah hell, stop reading whenever you want. She will betray me, more than once.

I pulled off my flashy silver shirt and tossed it into a corner of the living room. I hoped it would be lost for the ages, as much paranoia as it caused me over the last 12 hours. I ran my hands over my body for a second, wondering if I was possibly some kind of nasty version of myself, but no, I was emaciated and dehydrated making my torso feel very skinny and taught. Nice. Ya know, you got good days and bad.

I sighed heavily as I entered her room, thinking I am the worst narcissist you ever met, and swung the door shut behind me. It screeched at the end of its journey and Jaime shuddered a little but was still curled up with most of the blankets pinched between her thighs. Still snoring lightly. Fuck, I wish I had that kinda peace right about now. I clicked off the snake light and was enveloped in complete blackness. She had completely blanked out her windows. The darkness had an instant and intoxicating effect on me. If there was a version of a sideways NesTea plunge, I had executed it perfectly and landed as a 230lb feather on Jaime's bed.

Her digital alarm clock was still glowing red and as I rebounded (feather-like) off the bed the red light was completely extinguished! There was utter blackness and a hot blast of air, then an enveloping exhale. My eyes were open wide and my pupils were straining for light, but it was impossible. I felt her hot tongue on my neck and her cold little fingers reaching down into my jeans, and finding no underwear, clawing for the inevitable...

She was lightly combing back a little of the hair that resides down there, sending immediate involuntary convulsions to my spine and I arched up my neck against her mouth. She bit down and grabbed a fist full of my hair and somehow destroyed the wall of covers and blankets between us. She had one hand down my pants and was just grazing the base of my member with her fingernails! Ouch, but you'd be amazed what kind of pain a man will put up with for some sex. {If you're a woman, you just chuckle a little about that sentiment}. It was driving me into an uncontrolled frenzy, my tongue dipped out of my mouth and I was giving these large open mouth kisses to anywhere that I could find exposed flesh on her; which wasn't easy since I was essentially trying to tear this black hooded sweatshirt with the neck torn out of it off of her body at the same time. She somehow flipped the button of my pants and pulled them down to my ankles with her feet and toes and mounted me in one motion.

So graceful.

I shuddered and she arched her whole body into the air, I have never felt so fully inside. We started a rhythm. Blue black and sighing underneath the sheet. Her underwear was only pushed to the side and I could feel it. I held her close and she rode me into the sweetest little death. It probably only lasted five minutes, but at the end, we both twitched and clenched in unison and without speaking we fell asleep in each other's arms.