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For a few moments, all I'm able to see is the seductive dance of the smoke rising from my cigarette. I guess I zoned out there for a minute... Everything starts coming into focus again. Who I am... Where I am.... What I'm doing here... A weather-worn looking man in a wife-beater and a worn-out pair of jeans walks past me and smiles that "knowing" smile. I hesitate for a moment, thinking that he's not really my type. But, then again I've learned that it shouldn't matter. Everyone should be my type. So, I follow him. He notices me following him and slows his pace so he can match mine.
"Where's all the action tonight?" he asks.
I smile and reply, "Where the green stands; I stand with it."
Psychedelic... We walk a couple of more blocks down the nearly empty street. He gestures towards the apartment stairs that we have stopped in front of. I drop my cigarette and step on it. He smiles and starts walking up and I follow him. At the top of the third flight of stairs, we walk up to the door of his studio apartment. I can tell this place is ultra-classy; Aside from the 70's shag carpeting that was caked down with dirt and an unusual smell that lingers in the hallway, there paint on the door frame looks decayed. Sarcasm is sexy. I cant decide if its a good smell or a bad smell. As soon as I hear the door click open, I decide I'd rather not know.
We walk in the door. There's boxes lying around showing that either he just moved in or is just about to move out. Not that it really matters I guess. He sits on the bed and asks me how much?
"Two hundred," I say in a monotonous tone. "More, if you want to do weird shit."
He reaches into his wallet and puts the money on the nightstand next to the sheet-less bed. He says I can pick it up when we're done. I nod to him and he tells me to take off my shirt. I nod and slowly begin undoing the buttons on my shirt.
He sits on the bed and lights a cigarette and as I finish unbuttoning my shirt. I notice the smoke trailing from his cigarette. My mind begins to wander...
I remember your face vividly, it's like the last time I saw you was only a day ago. Your beautiful eyes... your bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of your jaw... your beckoning lips. I remember the last thing you said to me. "I always have and I always will love you." I remember the last thing I felt... the gentleness of your hand grazing my cheek and your smooth warm lips gently caressing my own. I fell in love with you even more that moment.
"Well?" asks the stranger.
"I... uh..." I shake my head. "Sorry." I start to take off my undershirt. I guess I had already dropped my shirt on the floor. As I pull off my t-shirt, he unbuttons his jeans. He leans back against his elbows and watches me. He seems to lose patience and tells me to hurry up and finish getting undressed. After kicking off my shoes and socks, I slide my fingers into my waistband and pull my jeans and boxer briefs down to my ankles and look at him with a mischievous grin. He grins back and beckons me to him. I step out of my jeans and walk towards him. He grabs my hand and pulls me down to lay on top of him. The smell of sweat and musk fills my nose and I become woozy. I realize that some of the unusual smell came from him. He wasn't exactly the best, but I learned that it doesn't matter... as long as I get the job done.
He kisses me roughly and then places his hands on my shoulders to push me towards what he really wanted. I climb down to his feet and pull off his dirty jeans and sweat-stained underwear and begin to do what I was hired for. He tilts his head back and lets out a moan. He reaches over to the ashtray for his cigarette and continues smoking. He exhales the smoking, blowing it towards my face. The smoke goes into my eyes and they start to burn and water, but I continued earning my wage.
I remember the laughter that we shared. We used to joke around all of the time. I remember when you would pass out at my house and we would talk until the sun began to rise. It was almost ritualistic. I would make some wise-crack and then you'd make one too. Before we knew it we were wrestling around hitting each other with pillows. Then in the middle of the entire ruckus, we would stop and stare lovingly into each others eyes. "I love you." And you would say, "Me too." I took that for more than it was worth. I guess it meant something to me.
I'd wake up the next morning in a stupor from staying up much longer than I should have. I'd sneak out of bed and pull on my boxer briefs that were haphazardly tossed on the floor. After taking a cigarette out of the half-crushed pack; I'd light it, but not really smoke it. You always told me it was a dirty habit and I should quit. I would look back and just watch you. Sleeping so peacefully... You looked so beautiful, stretched out on the bed, surrounded by the ultra plush comforter. Your body looked so perfect in the sunlight that pierced into the usually dark room. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow. Completely naked, you reminded me of a living statue. You looked perfect. It was impossible for me to see any flaws.
I snap back to reality as a horrible pain rips through my body. The stranger had thrown me onto my stomach and was proceeding to violate my backside. His deep moaning and groaning let me know that he was getting what he paid for. The pain is unbearable. Probably because I dont really want to be with him and I was fighting him. I think he realizes this, because now he is pushing my face into the bed and holding my arms behind my back as he continues to rape me. I guess it really isnt rape. I was struggling a bit, but he paid his money.
I better get back to work. I arch my hips back so he could get a better angle inward. He senses my willingness and let go of my arms, but still seems to not care whether I was into it or not. He continues thrusting violently against me. At least he has common sense to use protection. I dont know why I didnt have the same common sense. I guess I just didnt care anymore. Oddly enough, for not caring, I seemed to constantly be safe or be with people who were safe. He starts slamming into me harder and harder. I felt like he wanted to kill me by literally fucking me to death.
I remember that night you wanted to do something special. We went to see a movie. We sat there in the middle of the back row where it was darkest. You could tell I wasn't enjoying the movie, but I was having a great time. Just the fact that I was with you made me one of the happiest people in the world. You even went that extra mile to be cute and did the cliché "yawn, stretch, put your arm around me" routine. I laughed and I felt my body melt. It might be cheesy, but it was sweet.
The next day you handed me a rose. You said to me, "You are my world." Thats all you needed to say to me. Our bodies pressed tightly together our lips pressed tightly together and when we parted, it was too soon. I remember all of those moments. I can't forget them. Even if I had tried. I have tried.
The stranger must have been almost finished. His panting is much more rapid and I could feel the sweat running off of his face and onto my bare back. The sensation disgusts me. He doesn't even seem to notice that I'm even here. He finally climaxes and then he falls ontop of me. The unusual smell radiating from him now is mixed with the smell of sex and sweat. I start to move so that he'll get off of me. "Don't move. I'm not fucking done with you yet." he mumbles. I could still feel him inside me. I guess he really isn't done, but I was. He got his two hundred dollars worth. He slowly starts to fuck me again. The sensation of pain radiates through me again. "Stop. You're done." I reply. "I'm done when I say I'm done!" the man growls. He begins to slide into me harder. "Dude, get off." I protest.
With that, I get slammed in the back of my head with a closed fist. The pain shoots through to my face and down my spine. I stop moving. My mind is a distorted. He continues to fuck me. I try to move again and he punches me in my back. I stop moving again. I can't move. I feel numb. He climbs off of me and turns me onto my back. I feel pain still... at least I know my spine isn't broken. I try to push him away and he collapse ontop of me and begins hitting me over and over. I tried to block, but he didn't care where he hit me. My face... my ribs... my chest... I stop resisting.. I stop blocking his strikes.. I don't care anymore. He then moves to the side and lifts my legs so that my knees are up to my shoulders. He begins to rape me again. Everytime I make a noise or protest, he punches me in the face or wherever. I notice my face feels wet and I clumsily touch my face. Pain shoots through my face. I look at my finger tips. They're covered in blood. I close my eyes and let the stranger continue his assault.
I remember that last day. You had all of your bags packed and you were standing outside on the front porch. I can't remember a time that I cried so hard. I kept asking you why? Why were you leaving? You didn't ever answer me. I think my spirit died that day. My soul went into the deepest darkest part of my body, not to return. I just remember feeling my heart break. Many people speak of being heart-broken but on that day, I actually felt it break. You looked back to me with tears in your eyes and then got into your car and drove away. I havent seen you since then.
The shaking of the bed had stopped. My legs were now laying flat. I looked around and saw the stranger kneeling next to me. He climaxed on my blood-soaked face. The stranger finally calms down and gets off the bed. He walks to the foot of the bed and pulls on his clothes. "Get up," he growls to me. "You're done whore. Slut. Faggot. Whatever the fuck you want to be called. Get your money." I try to get up and feel pain shoot through my body. I sit there for a moment and then try again. Slowly, I get off the bed and put my jeans and underwear back on. I take the money off of the nightstand and put it into my pocket. I'm not even thinking. I can't even really see right now cause blood keeps going into my eye. I slide my shoes back on. The stranger walks over to me and kicks me from behind. I fall to the ground. "Fucking faggot!" he yells, and begins kicking me in the stomach. The pain... the pain was gone. I think the pain had become so much that I had simply gone numb. All I could feel was my broken heart.
The stranger stops kicking me. Maybe he wasn't having fun anymore. He throws another hundred dollar bill at me. "There's the extra for the weird shit." I look up at him the best I can. I barely can even see his features anymore... too much blood. Too many tears... I cough and some blood sprays onto my lips and chest. I wipe tears and blood from my eyes and look at him again. I can't focus... but.. he looks so beautiful. His eyes... his bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of his jaw.... his beckoning lips. "I love you," I mutter.
He laughs. I continue to lay there, shivering and naked. He turns and walks out of the apartment. I'm now crying. Or, at least I think I'm crying. Searing pain rushes through my ribs and I realize that they are either broken or fractured. A haziness rushes over me and I sit back on the floor. My breathing becomes shallower and darkness begins to descend upon me. I close my eyes, not caring if they open again or not.
I remember sitting in the darkness of my bedroom. I'd tried calling you several times. The only company that had been with me for the past couple of days had been the almost empty bottle of whiskey and the already empty bottle of vodka that lied on the floor. I idly poked at the bottle with my bare foot and continued waiting for the phone to ring. Every time the phone rang, I jumped up to answer it. "Robert, are you there? Hello?" spoke the voice from the phone. I just sat there, listening crying... "Robert?? Are you okay?" I hung up the receiver. It wasn't you. It was someone else.
I hear the door squeak open. My body jolts awake and I quickly look around. I know he's come back to make sure I'm dead. A man steps into the room and gasps. I sigh. It's not him. He quickly rushes over to me and kneels down. I begin coughing again. No blood escapes from my mouth this time. I hear him talking to me but I cant tell what he's actually saying. Finally words start to make sense. "Are you okay, man? What happened? Why are you in my apartment? I'm calling an ambulance. Do you need some water??" He wraps a blanket around me and gets on the phone. He actually seems concerned. I see him in the other room talking on the phone. I stand up as best as I can. Strange... It's like I've seen this guy some where before. I grab my crumpled up shirt and quietly sneak towards the door. I hear the man giving his address to the operator on the other line. I quickly exit the apartment and run down the stairs. No need to bring him into my world.
I'm walking down the street, wiping off the blood from my face and chest. The pain is starting to subside probably from being numb... I reach back and wipe off the stranger's bodily fluids he left on my back. There we go. All better. Aside from the black eye, the jacked up ribs, and the cracked lip; I don't look that bad. The bruises and some of the wounds can be ignored. The cuts have stopped bleeding.
I remember how upset you got with me when I said that if you can date other people, so can I. I didnt like the fact that you wanted me to be there for you always, but you wouldn't always be there for me. You wanted to be able to fuck whoever you wanted and here I was supposed to wait for you like some kept housewife knowing that her husband is having an affair. I remember how mad I would get that you would have these random people in our bed that you constantly hooked up with. I felt like less than a person. I cried often. I still loved you even when you did stuff like that.
Now I'm standing on that nearly deserted street again. I see a couple of other guys standing around also. I ask the guy closest to me if he has a cigarette and he reaches into his half-crushed soft pack of cigarettes and takes one out for me. He lights my cigarette for me and begins to look at my body. "What happened to you?"
I smile and slightly cough up a slight trace of blood, "I remembered something." He looks at me for a few moments and then shakes his head and goes back to standing where he originally was. I start to zone out, while watching the seductive dance of the smoke from my cigarette. The soft gray swirls dancing about like a silky soft ribbon caught in a light wind. It starts strong near the dull red glow of the cigarette tip and the further it gets away from the source, the fainter it gets. How beautifully symbolic. I lean up against the brick wall behind me. I smile and sigh, "I love you. I always have and always will."
"Where's all the action tonight?" he asks.
I smile and reply, "Where the green stands; I stand with it."
Psychedelic... We walk a couple of more blocks down the nearly empty street. He gestures towards the apartment stairs that we have stopped in front of. I drop my cigarette and step on it. He smiles and starts walking up and I follow him. At the top of the third flight of stairs, we walk up to the door of his studio apartment. I can tell this place is ultra-classy; Aside from the 70's shag carpeting that was caked down with dirt and an unusual smell that lingers in the hallway, there paint on the door frame looks decayed. Sarcasm is sexy. I cant decide if its a good smell or a bad smell. As soon as I hear the door click open, I decide I'd rather not know.
We walk in the door. There's boxes lying around showing that either he just moved in or is just about to move out. Not that it really matters I guess. He sits on the bed and asks me how much?
"Two hundred," I say in a monotonous tone. "More, if you want to do weird shit."
He reaches into his wallet and puts the money on the nightstand next to the sheet-less bed. He says I can pick it up when we're done. I nod to him and he tells me to take off my shirt. I nod and slowly begin undoing the buttons on my shirt.
He sits on the bed and lights a cigarette and as I finish unbuttoning my shirt. I notice the smoke trailing from his cigarette. My mind begins to wander...
I remember your face vividly, it's like the last time I saw you was only a day ago. Your beautiful eyes... your bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of your jaw... your beckoning lips. I remember the last thing you said to me. "I always have and I always will love you." I remember the last thing I felt... the gentleness of your hand grazing my cheek and your smooth warm lips gently caressing my own. I fell in love with you even more that moment.
"Well?" asks the stranger.
"I... uh..." I shake my head. "Sorry." I start to take off my undershirt. I guess I had already dropped my shirt on the floor. As I pull off my t-shirt, he unbuttons his jeans. He leans back against his elbows and watches me. He seems to lose patience and tells me to hurry up and finish getting undressed. After kicking off my shoes and socks, I slide my fingers into my waistband and pull my jeans and boxer briefs down to my ankles and look at him with a mischievous grin. He grins back and beckons me to him. I step out of my jeans and walk towards him. He grabs my hand and pulls me down to lay on top of him. The smell of sweat and musk fills my nose and I become woozy. I realize that some of the unusual smell came from him. He wasn't exactly the best, but I learned that it doesn't matter... as long as I get the job done.
He kisses me roughly and then places his hands on my shoulders to push me towards what he really wanted. I climb down to his feet and pull off his dirty jeans and sweat-stained underwear and begin to do what I was hired for. He tilts his head back and lets out a moan. He reaches over to the ashtray for his cigarette and continues smoking. He exhales the smoking, blowing it towards my face. The smoke goes into my eyes and they start to burn and water, but I continued earning my wage.
I remember the laughter that we shared. We used to joke around all of the time. I remember when you would pass out at my house and we would talk until the sun began to rise. It was almost ritualistic. I would make some wise-crack and then you'd make one too. Before we knew it we were wrestling around hitting each other with pillows. Then in the middle of the entire ruckus, we would stop and stare lovingly into each others eyes. "I love you." And you would say, "Me too." I took that for more than it was worth. I guess it meant something to me.
I'd wake up the next morning in a stupor from staying up much longer than I should have. I'd sneak out of bed and pull on my boxer briefs that were haphazardly tossed on the floor. After taking a cigarette out of the half-crushed pack; I'd light it, but not really smoke it. You always told me it was a dirty habit and I should quit. I would look back and just watch you. Sleeping so peacefully... You looked so beautiful, stretched out on the bed, surrounded by the ultra plush comforter. Your body looked so perfect in the sunlight that pierced into the usually dark room. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow. Completely naked, you reminded me of a living statue. You looked perfect. It was impossible for me to see any flaws.
I snap back to reality as a horrible pain rips through my body. The stranger had thrown me onto my stomach and was proceeding to violate my backside. His deep moaning and groaning let me know that he was getting what he paid for. The pain is unbearable. Probably because I dont really want to be with him and I was fighting him. I think he realizes this, because now he is pushing my face into the bed and holding my arms behind my back as he continues to rape me. I guess it really isnt rape. I was struggling a bit, but he paid his money.
I better get back to work. I arch my hips back so he could get a better angle inward. He senses my willingness and let go of my arms, but still seems to not care whether I was into it or not. He continues thrusting violently against me. At least he has common sense to use protection. I dont know why I didnt have the same common sense. I guess I just didnt care anymore. Oddly enough, for not caring, I seemed to constantly be safe or be with people who were safe. He starts slamming into me harder and harder. I felt like he wanted to kill me by literally fucking me to death.
I remember that night you wanted to do something special. We went to see a movie. We sat there in the middle of the back row where it was darkest. You could tell I wasn't enjoying the movie, but I was having a great time. Just the fact that I was with you made me one of the happiest people in the world. You even went that extra mile to be cute and did the cliché "yawn, stretch, put your arm around me" routine. I laughed and I felt my body melt. It might be cheesy, but it was sweet.
The next day you handed me a rose. You said to me, "You are my world." Thats all you needed to say to me. Our bodies pressed tightly together our lips pressed tightly together and when we parted, it was too soon. I remember all of those moments. I can't forget them. Even if I had tried. I have tried.
The stranger must have been almost finished. His panting is much more rapid and I could feel the sweat running off of his face and onto my bare back. The sensation disgusts me. He doesn't even seem to notice that I'm even here. He finally climaxes and then he falls ontop of me. The unusual smell radiating from him now is mixed with the smell of sex and sweat. I start to move so that he'll get off of me. "Don't move. I'm not fucking done with you yet." he mumbles. I could still feel him inside me. I guess he really isn't done, but I was. He got his two hundred dollars worth. He slowly starts to fuck me again. The sensation of pain radiates through me again. "Stop. You're done." I reply. "I'm done when I say I'm done!" the man growls. He begins to slide into me harder. "Dude, get off." I protest.
With that, I get slammed in the back of my head with a closed fist. The pain shoots through to my face and down my spine. I stop moving. My mind is a distorted. He continues to fuck me. I try to move again and he punches me in my back. I stop moving again. I can't move. I feel numb. He climbs off of me and turns me onto my back. I feel pain still... at least I know my spine isn't broken. I try to push him away and he collapse ontop of me and begins hitting me over and over. I tried to block, but he didn't care where he hit me. My face... my ribs... my chest... I stop resisting.. I stop blocking his strikes.. I don't care anymore. He then moves to the side and lifts my legs so that my knees are up to my shoulders. He begins to rape me again. Everytime I make a noise or protest, he punches me in the face or wherever. I notice my face feels wet and I clumsily touch my face. Pain shoots through my face. I look at my finger tips. They're covered in blood. I close my eyes and let the stranger continue his assault.
I remember that last day. You had all of your bags packed and you were standing outside on the front porch. I can't remember a time that I cried so hard. I kept asking you why? Why were you leaving? You didn't ever answer me. I think my spirit died that day. My soul went into the deepest darkest part of my body, not to return. I just remember feeling my heart break. Many people speak of being heart-broken but on that day, I actually felt it break. You looked back to me with tears in your eyes and then got into your car and drove away. I havent seen you since then.
The shaking of the bed had stopped. My legs were now laying flat. I looked around and saw the stranger kneeling next to me. He climaxed on my blood-soaked face. The stranger finally calms down and gets off the bed. He walks to the foot of the bed and pulls on his clothes. "Get up," he growls to me. "You're done whore. Slut. Faggot. Whatever the fuck you want to be called. Get your money." I try to get up and feel pain shoot through my body. I sit there for a moment and then try again. Slowly, I get off the bed and put my jeans and underwear back on. I take the money off of the nightstand and put it into my pocket. I'm not even thinking. I can't even really see right now cause blood keeps going into my eye. I slide my shoes back on. The stranger walks over to me and kicks me from behind. I fall to the ground. "Fucking faggot!" he yells, and begins kicking me in the stomach. The pain... the pain was gone. I think the pain had become so much that I had simply gone numb. All I could feel was my broken heart.
The stranger stops kicking me. Maybe he wasn't having fun anymore. He throws another hundred dollar bill at me. "There's the extra for the weird shit." I look up at him the best I can. I barely can even see his features anymore... too much blood. Too many tears... I cough and some blood sprays onto my lips and chest. I wipe tears and blood from my eyes and look at him again. I can't focus... but.. he looks so beautiful. His eyes... his bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of his jaw.... his beckoning lips. "I love you," I mutter.
He laughs. I continue to lay there, shivering and naked. He turns and walks out of the apartment. I'm now crying. Or, at least I think I'm crying. Searing pain rushes through my ribs and I realize that they are either broken or fractured. A haziness rushes over me and I sit back on the floor. My breathing becomes shallower and darkness begins to descend upon me. I close my eyes, not caring if they open again or not.
I remember sitting in the darkness of my bedroom. I'd tried calling you several times. The only company that had been with me for the past couple of days had been the almost empty bottle of whiskey and the already empty bottle of vodka that lied on the floor. I idly poked at the bottle with my bare foot and continued waiting for the phone to ring. Every time the phone rang, I jumped up to answer it. "Robert, are you there? Hello?" spoke the voice from the phone. I just sat there, listening crying... "Robert?? Are you okay?" I hung up the receiver. It wasn't you. It was someone else.
I hear the door squeak open. My body jolts awake and I quickly look around. I know he's come back to make sure I'm dead. A man steps into the room and gasps. I sigh. It's not him. He quickly rushes over to me and kneels down. I begin coughing again. No blood escapes from my mouth this time. I hear him talking to me but I cant tell what he's actually saying. Finally words start to make sense. "Are you okay, man? What happened? Why are you in my apartment? I'm calling an ambulance. Do you need some water??" He wraps a blanket around me and gets on the phone. He actually seems concerned. I see him in the other room talking on the phone. I stand up as best as I can. Strange... It's like I've seen this guy some where before. I grab my crumpled up shirt and quietly sneak towards the door. I hear the man giving his address to the operator on the other line. I quickly exit the apartment and run down the stairs. No need to bring him into my world.
I'm walking down the street, wiping off the blood from my face and chest. The pain is starting to subside probably from being numb... I reach back and wipe off the stranger's bodily fluids he left on my back. There we go. All better. Aside from the black eye, the jacked up ribs, and the cracked lip; I don't look that bad. The bruises and some of the wounds can be ignored. The cuts have stopped bleeding.
I remember how upset you got with me when I said that if you can date other people, so can I. I didnt like the fact that you wanted me to be there for you always, but you wouldn't always be there for me. You wanted to be able to fuck whoever you wanted and here I was supposed to wait for you like some kept housewife knowing that her husband is having an affair. I remember how mad I would get that you would have these random people in our bed that you constantly hooked up with. I felt like less than a person. I cried often. I still loved you even when you did stuff like that.
Now I'm standing on that nearly deserted street again. I see a couple of other guys standing around also. I ask the guy closest to me if he has a cigarette and he reaches into his half-crushed soft pack of cigarettes and takes one out for me. He lights my cigarette for me and begins to look at my body. "What happened to you?"
I smile and slightly cough up a slight trace of blood, "I remembered something." He looks at me for a few moments and then shakes his head and goes back to standing where he originally was. I start to zone out, while watching the seductive dance of the smoke from my cigarette. The soft gray swirls dancing about like a silky soft ribbon caught in a light wind. It starts strong near the dull red glow of the cigarette tip and the further it gets away from the source, the fainter it gets. How beautifully symbolic. I lean up against the brick wall behind me. I smile and sigh, "I love you. I always have and always will."
