“Perhaps we should leave,” Gal finally
intervenes, grasping Molly by the shoulders as support for her failing fatigue.
“Maybe you should leave,” Tiffany angrily spits at Gal.
Tiffany quickly catches my expression,
her eyes flashing snappishly that I should deny her.
“Fuck you, Tom!”
Her reply is unoriginal, and frankly
overused. I must hear this phrase three times a day at least, mostly from women
who were rejected by my polite, sincere smile. Unhurt, or even surprised by her
general outburst, I shrug, continuing to smirk as it remained my only weapon to
stab her pride. What else could a nice guy like me or Gal do?
“Sup, Fuckers!” Jason randomly
interjects. He puts his arm around my shoulder, squeezing my nipple roughly
before I even had a chance to thrust him away. I guessed my abused nip would be
purple by morning.
“Woah! Gross! Who the fuck did that?” he
points to vomit, laughing hysterically.
Molly hides her face, almost to the
verge of tears. I wanted to turn away from her indifferently, but with her
fingers masking her exact self, I seemed to witness her as her sister. I
secretly imagined her crying at her unexpected disposal of me, craving me to
take her back, explaining to me that the man she was holding meant nothing more
to her than an annoying nat, pleading that she didn’t speak with me throughout
the summer because her parents forbade our encounters. When she raised her neck
and I could see that she had a different proportion than my lovely Jane, I was snapped from my dream, annoyed at my
pessimistic romantic point. If I ever spoke the way I felt, the world would
mock my ideals, call me a woman, or worse, emotional.
Molly continues to snivel like a little
girl, wiping her ugly mouth with the small bar napkin. What ever happened to
when ladies carried around their own handkerchief?
“Shit, Molly! That’s disgusting! It’s
not even 11 yet, you wimp! What are you two doing here? You’re not of age!” he
says the latter a little too loudly, winking away my angry expression to show
that he cared for my well-being.
It’s just like Jason and his attractable
humor to make you feel the world is not lost to dramatic, romantic
delusions…unless he happens to offer you drugs, of course.
“Shut up, Gay-son!” Tiffany sneers,
losing her balance as she lunges to push him stiffly.
He almost stumbles over, but I’m quick
to react and catch him immediately. His face falls suddenly, as if the nickname
had physically injured him. He stands upright, brushing off his shirt as though
any girls’ fingertips would suddenly alter his genital preference.
“I’m using that as a term of endearment
for you, Gayson,” I say to lessen his blow. In a quietly monitored tone, I add
“Save me! Gal is epically failing at getting these girls away from my sight.
He’s too nice to be directly rude to them.”
Jason pulled his ear away from my lips,
looks directly into my eyes, and smiles. Next, he snatched a passerby’s drink
from her hands, and throws the unknown liquid onto Tiffany’s provoking features
with a quick swoop.
Before the drink even touches her face,
she produces an ear shattering wail that gains the bouncer’s immediate
attention. As she wiped her face, the mascara flooded to the bottom crease of
her eye, almost producing a haunting effect on her features. Though I found her
atrocious before, she now looked nigh fuck-able as she stomped her heels,
fluttering her fingers before her dripping mascara. Her shoulders shook with
adequate rage as Gal and I remained rooted to the spot, perplexed by Jason’s
sudden attack.
“Now is your time to leave, stupid!”
Jason remarks dryly at me.
“What are you going to do next? Light
her on fire?” Gal retorts. He is, however, smiling with ardent satisfaction.
“I wasn’t thinking about it, but…yeah.
Let me hold my lighter to her hair. She’ll really light up with all that stupid
fucking hairspray!” Jason smiles with an unusual casualness.
Perhaps I was wrong in only thinking
women were vengeful, as I stared amazed at Jason.
The bouncer, attracted by Tiffany’s
frenzied nature, escorted the human siren outside with the sickened Molly in
tow. Meanwhile, the Mohawk bartender comes back and throws up her arms with a heavy
laugh, implying that she’d witnessed a great victory.
“Yeahhhh! That was awesome! Free drinks
for you!” she pointed directly to Jason, clapping her hands excitedly. Jason
gleamed in return, aware that other customers were drawn to see more of his
drastic actions.
“Hell yeah, dude,” he finally utters,
his voice relaxed and mellow, his eyes dimmed red. There was no denying that
he’d been smoking pot a few minutes ago in the alleyway.
“I should go check on them,” Gal states
reluctantly. “I would have to drive them home.”
“I don’t know why you drove them here in
the first place!” I start. “I hate them both.”
“Tiffany came onto me over a text
message, so I thought I’d get lucky tonight. But when I found out Molly was
over, they kinda wrangled me into taking them out. They wouldn’t give me back
my wallet or phone unless I drove them around. They searched my phone and knew
you’d be here, Tom.”
“Never trust females,” Jason countered,
swigging through a beer rather quickly.
“Do you have your shit back now?” I ask
a little heated by Gal’s reason for bringing the girls along.
His face flushes, eyes growing. He
forgot to get the items back.
“Shit! I’ll be right back!” he flusters,
bumping into the crowd as he makes his way hastily for the exit.
Jason turns to me, shaking his head with
an exaggerated gusto.
“He skirts around with stupid broads
while you moan to yourself in a corner of a crowded bar. You two make me sick,”
he says, reaching for the bar to order a shot. I buy one too.
“I haven’t been sulking!” I say rather
defensively.
“HA!” he states mildly. “You are at
least smart enough not to get lovesick over tramps, Tom. Gal doesn’t care
because he just wants to get laid…It must be his Jewish heart…incapable of
love,” he jokes.
I smirk along, always finding a great ethnic
joke a good tease.
He continues, “You are capable of love. But then you do nothing about it. You stay
in almost every weekend, and if you do go out with us, you leave early.”
I’m appalled by his judgments of me, but
challenge myself not to show it. It is more ideal to preserve an apathetic face
than to show any sort of emotion over a matter as dim-witted as love.
“You’re being ridiculous, Jason. I am
the same as I’ve always been.”
“Gal told me you saw her again today,
with a guy, just before coming here. It’s eerie to hear nothing from her in
months, then see her holding hands with some tool today. Is that why you’ve
been so quiet lately? Just when I thought we’d gotten rid of her…she just
appears again. ”
I frown, throwing the shot towards the
back of my scratchy throat, and swallow the harsh mess. I refused to say a word
about her.
After a moment of silence, I sigh
deeply. I want to allude to something else, something entirely different.
“Let’s not talk of that,” I say.
He nods and rapidly changes the subject
to something that I can barely keep word of. I try to distance my mind from
that sweet, angelic face, but remain incapable of throwing away my desire to
see her. I much rather endure a life of self-loathing than to overlook a woman
of her competence.
Gal happens to stumble back inside,
looking a little distraught as he reaches the bar we’ve backed ourselves up
against.
“They are coming back in! The bouncer’s
letting them back in! Should we go?”
“No! I’m getting free drinks tonight, so
I don’t want to leave. Fuck ‘em. You take them home!”
“I can’t! I need to sober up!” he says
defiantly.
I buy one more beer from the Mohawk lady
and disappear into the sweaty, muddled crowd. I didn’t want to be near the
drama for another moment. There was too much to consider, react to, and I just
couldn’t correctly align my emotions among friends and enemies alike. I pushed
away from many strange and familiar cohorts, and retreated to the end of the
bar, loosing myself in the crowd of sweat, groins, and the smell of whiskey.
I watch my friends carefully from behind
a lesbian couple kissing passionately against the bar. At first, the two regard
me as if I was making sport of their showcase, but I continued to stare past
them, refusing to make eye contact. They look in my general direction, and
smile. They see Molly and Tiffany, flushed, but willingly come into view,
throwing a fit and speculating the crowd for me with angry eyes.
“You hiding from those two?” the short
black haired girls starkly asks, looking directly at me.
“Yeah,” my voice is low, fearful that
these girls may be friends with the two harassers by some unknown connection.
They smile a little mischievously, and I clench my stomach thinking them as
nothing more than bitter women wishing to snuff out any hope I have of escape.
“You can hide behind us. We won’t give
you away,” the redhead answers in a thick, doughty New York accent.
“Thanks,” I smile with genuine
affection. They nod, and continue their tongue dance.
I begin to shrewdly peer behind them as
Gal flexes his hands around Tiffany’s waist. Without my presence in her sight,
I see that she warms to Gal’s touch, and gently probes the group for another
meaningless discussion in a falsely gentle manner. Molly looks on blankly, her
conscious barley holding by a thread. To interact with them would take energy
that she did not possess.
My vision of them conversing amongst
themselves is fortunately blocked by the Mohawk bartender as she hands me
another beer before my last has even been finished.
“Here, you need this,” she smiles as she
hands me another beer.
“Hey, thanks for all the drinks. I hope
I don’t get you in trouble or anything,” I attempt to win a positive
consideration.
“Fuck it!” she answers enthusiastically.
“What are they going to do?” she shrugs, listlessly backing toward the next
customer. “Fire me?”
Unable to stop myself, I grin as the
alcohol is beginning to soothe my nerves. With a newfound accomplishment, I
turn to eye the dancers for the first time this evening. The men are in a
train, grinding upon one another with such deep thrusts, that I am stunned that
there is not a lecherous domino effect.
The girls are grasping the poles of the
cage with vigorous shimmies, placing their breasts between the bars, moving to
the rhythm of the pulsing beats, their bodies in tandem to the music, side to
side, up and down. It is a dizzying sight, to say the least. Quietly, I drink
my beer as I witness the extremely provocative sessions of this sex fueled
crowd. Though not entirely bored, I felt secluded, and certainly didn’t want to
seem as if I was an ass merely preying on women, mistakably attracting the
worst kind of attention.
How brainless yet unnerving it seemed to
merely dance, enjoy a decent conversation, and engulf a beer. I finish the
first drink, and continue onto the second. As I leveled the drink to my eyes, I
catch sight over the brim of the glass a small brunette; she, tossing her hair,
the long strands gradually stroking her neck, danced rather casually. Apart
from her mild sashay, her countenance was nothing short of happiness, smiling
as though gloriously oblivious to the common ailments of the world. I watched
with frustration as her torso moves to the left while her hips fiercely swing
to the right during the chorus of the song. Her eyes were closed as she strokes
her own arms, neck and cheeks. Even dressed plainly, nothing more than a white
tank top and jeans, I noticed a delightful attitude exuding from her sudden
presence. As she sinks to the floor, bending her body ruthlessly low, I come to
the realization that she is the only girl not wearing heels, but Chuck Taylors.
I casually wonder if she is lesbian until her dark eyes blinked open, piercing
through me.
No. At me.
She resumes staring, lips parted
unconsciously, eyes crinkling with amusement. We continue to look at one
another for a few passing minutes, each not moving from our opposite positions.
Though dancers cuts between us, they are unable to shatter this unusual
contact. Finally, she visibly smiles as she turns her body in a circle, her
behind acting as if it were merely twitching a tail to entice me, showing her
goods.
My dick began to rise, yet again.
“Tom!” Gal shouts suddenly in my ear.
“You gonna drink that, or just hold it
up to your lips all night? The next step is to swallow,” he muses.
I find that he’s right. I haven’t taken
a sip, or even managed to move the glass away from my lips since I’ve laid eyes
on her.
God, I hope she isn’t a lesbian.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Gal
asks, probing directly over the top of the woman’s head. Though I wanted him to
witness this lovely girl’s stare, I didn’t dare pull away from our eye-locking
embrace. My eyelids troubled not to blink, to lose this invisible bond,
whatever it might be. It wasn’t a moment of tender love, but it was a possible
that we each displayed a small level of affection that certainly fueled my
interest for the girl.
“Tom, you okay?” he remarks.
I finally sip the beer, but am still
unable to chance away, fearful that she may be an illusion sent to further damn
my mind.
“Gal,” I whisper, believing that any
sudden move may leave me at a loss.
“I can’t hear you!” He leans closer,
audibly annoyed that I attempted to whisper next to the speakers on the dance
floor.
“Gal, what should I do?” I point my chin
carefully to the girl, regarding her as a dream while he examines her with an
undeserving detachment. She doesn’t even attempt to look in his direction; she
keeps our silent peace treaty, and looks no further.
“Why is she lingering at you like that?”
he asks disturbed. “It’s really kind of strange, don’t you think?”
“I was staring first, Gal,” I manage to
protect her honor. He regards me with a mock shrewdness.
“You
are creepy,” he manages to chuckle, slurping his beer. I stare a moment longer
before he startlingly shouts, “Will you stop staring at her?!”
“I don’t want to,” I say carefully, my
clenched fingers sweating within my trembling palms. The fear that she exacted
in me could be compared to nothing other than encountering a wild animal.
Unable to distinguish what we desired of one another, we both remain in our
opposite corners, regarding the other with fascination and uncertainly.
A tall blonde leans in close to the girl
and begins to heatedly discuss something with her.
“Oh! I knew it,” my heart quivers.
“She’s gay, man!” I unhappily mutter as I draw my eyes away from her, turning
around so she wouldn’t witness my slight shame. But Gal examines her again.
“Naw, she isn’t,” he concludes after a
short pause, his kind spirit lifting mine from my short lived disappointment,
“If she were, she still wouldn’t be staring at you as intently.”
For some unknown reason, my heart
lightens at the thought that she may still be interested.
“You think so, Gal?”
“Swear on the Torah,” he smiles,
slapping my back roughly before taking another swig of his beer.
Instinctively, the girl laughs as though
she was witness to our entire conversation. I uneasily suggest to myself that
she may be a lip reader.
“Gal, why did you have to bring those
idiots?” I ask him seriously, still eyeing the girl with relish. “Why couldn’t
you have brought Raq?”
“I tried to Re-Raq with Raquel tonight,
but she was sore about something or another. I think she was talking with
someone else tonight, but it’s not like we are dating anyways. Besides, I
didn’t feel like it was worth dealing with right now. I just wanted some
company tonight,” he winks.
“I’m not company enough?” I smile,
trailing his joke.
“Not the type of company I want to end
the night with, friend,” he said in his deep, booming voice. “They call her
Re-Raq for a reason. I’ll probably see her tomorrow,” he elbows my back. His
good humors made me laugh deeply but think broadly.
“I’m going to talk to her,” I said more
to myself than my fellow companion.
“Make sure you get her in some light!”
he warns. “You don’t know if she’s ugly unless you see her with the lights on!”
I nod to him as I entered the dance
portion of the crowded bar. The lights dimmed as the heat quickly escalated. My
only aid was the sudden flash of neon lights, spiraling quickly over the heads
of the dancers. This time I walked with purpose, driven by the liquid courage
that I had consumed throughout the night, impending upon her. Quite unlike
myself, I didn’t care who I stepped on, or brushed against. I was led unnerved
only by the invigorating depth of her eyes as she eagerly watched me stride
forward.
My groin bobs without warning,
stretching and pulling at my briefs uncomfortably.
‘Shit,’ I suddenly realized.
My junk was trapped, and I could feel it
continuing to rise. I whispered to myself to stay cool, reminding myself that
the girl was regarding me fiercely. I watched her eyes palpitating with
vitalizing pressure. My hips began to thrust forward, my arousal acting as a
compass.
I reached her, accidentally touching her
impressively proportioned breasts with my own chest. We were still eye to eye,
an invisible thread linked to our cognition that surpassed all forms of temporality.
What was she doing to me?
I suddenly felt a small pressure
release, and I touched my pants in concern. The pre cum had shot without
warning, without even a chance to pull the safety switch after being so close
in her presence. Her breasts had made me wish to shoot pre maturely in
excitement, but sudden displeasure. Uncomfortably, I slide past the girl, only
grazing her softly as I headed in the direction of the bathrooms.
What a foolish mistake it was to not
properly take care of my business before coming out tonight. Though reckless, I
was satisfied that the night had drawn such a strange surprise. To show the
girl no ill will, I gave her my best attempt at a coy smile, one eyebrow lifted
as I performed a half grin.
She kept her smirk, twisting her
body relentless before my waiting genital. Even as I retreat, we were locked
together beyond all forms of attraction as I disappeared around the corner and
into the bathroom. The bright lights made my eyes dim, but sheltered my ear
from the deafening music.
I was relieved to find no one in
line, and quickly took the largest stall to finish my needs. Freeing my
erection with the utmost vigor, I watch it spring hurriedly, buoyant with lust.
I clenched my teeth, desperately grasping my length in every attempt to finish
off quickly before the girl grew faint at my failed trials. With no one in
sight, I went as fast as I could manage, fearing that she would be gone the
second I stepped from the stall. My mind began to picture her again, smirking
in a lovely, soul wrecking fashion, beckoning me to her. My body pulsed,
feeling as if I was so near to orgasm that I could practically taste her lips.
I imagined them sweet, and longed that I would reach her sprightly shore
instead of wallowing in the depths of my lecherous whim. In my trance, I had
lost all thoughts of the outside world, and became rudely awakened only when I
witnessed Hipster Jesus pushing the stall open to his appalling disbelief.
I came furiously, knocked from my
wayward reverie with a wild wail as the white droplets sprayed against the
walls and floor, simultaneously spotting Hipster Jesus’s Khakis. Seeing him
made my mind mad with rage and embarrassment that prevented me from controlling
my sperm.
“No! No!” I whined. Not good. How
could I forget to lock the damn stall?
It was no matter. After a long,
aggravating pause, he smiled at me as he exited the small, devastating
enclosure and closed the door softly. I held my breath until I thought him
gone. Springing forward, I locked the latch and leaned against the door in
utter defeat, gasping. It did not take
me long to tuck my penis into my levis and wipe the stall of all trace of my messy
residue. Before I was finished, I had the misfortune to hear Hipster Jesus
speak again, just outside the bathroom stall.
“You have some length, man!” his
voice echoes off the walls. “Be proud!”
I swiftly flew from the stall and
was relieved to find Hipster Jesus occupied adjacent to the stall I just left; I
washed my hands with excessive amounts of soap before fleeing the scene like a murderer
who had just shot—pun intended—the last of his bullets.
