City of Singles (14 page)

I breathe in clean, clear air. I breathe out, from each nostril roar flames and soot. With each passing moment, dirty black diesel smoke stains everything it touches. The bathroom is soon covered in carbon as a fine grey ash floats delicately, almost to apologize for the apocalypse. I look at myself in the mirror and my green eyes have turned red. Cracked bones glow through loose skin made of little worms stitched together. I can watch a rock-grey cancer cell working to destroying me, sent to provide an end to pointless people. It tunnels through me, chewing its way from organ to organ and spreading hungry little copies of evil grey mouths. Full of jagged spines, each tooth has even smaller mouths on them, snapping and gnashing with clockwork rhythm, cute razor lips nibble on guts. I can’t breathe, inflating tumors push against my ribs on the inside. The bathroom mirror shatters and implodes, replaced with a tunnel of concentrated consciousness. The intersections of nirvana and oblivion, where understanding anything more than your mind can take would result in your instant death, the protection mechanism the universe uses to keep our souls from disengaging at will. My life hangs in the balance for now, but the cancer is always winning. Time is death for all regardless, only purpose keeps our experience from souring.

I steady myself on the counter. The blow she gave me is fucking intense. I’m going to need a few drinks. I straighten out my collar and check for any residue hanging out of my nose. I dry my hands, exit, and walk back up the stairs. The hall is nearly empty and I just manage to sneak back into the runway area for the second show to begin. I spot Kiki and Misha and step on a few toes to take my seat.

“Where the fuck were you?” Kiki says a bit too loud, feeling eyes all over me.

“Sorry,” I whisper. Better to explain later. My eyes catch two empty chairs and I notice Devon and her date are gone.

17 Pressure

The second show begins and I let my eyes wander through the crowd. I’m bored and not in any way interested in the action on stage. Figures prance and spin, flashbulbs go off, coloured lights play on the walls and people applaud. Charlie Brown’s teacher comes on the PA system, I understand nothing announced.

Kiki pokes me, “Dyl, what a show! … Dyl?”

“Yeah, fucken sweet,” I reply.

Misha is wasted, stepping in front of Kiki and pushing her way past me. She can turn into such a bitch when drunk. Kiki stands up and follows me out.

Out the front door of the hall and the midnight air feels good on my face. Misha is bent over for a good 30 seconds while trying to do up a little fancy buckle on her heels. Kiki looks around a bit nervously. “Well, I think I should take her home, we drank that whole 26’er Eric left for Misha,
and
the bottle of Vueve! Where were you?” Kiki looks like she’s not having fun anymore. “I was just mingling, you know,” and I flash the little gold earring from my pocket. Kiki’s face brightens into a silly smile, “Oh Dyl you dog you!” and she playfully punches me in the arm.

We both laugh.

“Hehe, yeah,” I sigh while chuckling. “What the fuck is so fucken’ funny?” Misha barks, her butt pointing out at the lineup of taxis and cars, illuminated in a mix of German xenon and Japanese halogen. “Nothin’ Mish!” I say, walking over and standing behind Misha, pretending to slap her ass with a stupid look on my face.

Kiki howls and claps her hands.

“What! You fuckers!” Misha groans. “Fuck it!” she shouts as she kicks her heel off, hitting some guy smoking in the back of his leg. “Sorry! You’re handsome!” Misha stands up and smiles at the guy. She turns back towards us “Not really, ugh!” and balances on one leg to take her other shoe off.

“Dyl, let’s go to your place, I’m going to call night flight for another bottle,” Misha says, opening the nearest taxi door. Kiki looks at the people patiently waiting in lineup for taxis and freezes up. I grab Kiki’s arm and drag her to the cab, put her in the back, and take the front seat. “Asshole,” a girl is overheard saying as the door shuts.

Misha and Kiki tap away on their phones in relative silence. The only words spoken are, “Crown or vodka?” Misha wanted more vodka. Vodka and water to keep slim she says. The cab dumps us in front of a few 19 year olds puking outside of the local Irish bar. I buzz us into my place and Kiki falls on my couch with a sigh, Misha hits the bathroom. “Dyl put on some tunes,” Kiki says just as I put on a random breakbeat iTunes radio station, “Way ahead of you Kiki,” I say through a grin.

The tunes are pumping. Misha is drunk dancing, or flailing more like it, in front of the purple couch Kiki is sprawled across.

“Eek!” Misha screams as she falls onto the couch, Kiki’s attempt at catching her results in a long, sharp nail puncturing one of Misha’s breasts.

“Owch bitch! I’m bleeding!”

Kiki laughs.

“Ow!” Misha half pulls her left breast from its bra.

“Look! Look at what Kiki did to me!” Misha exclaims, as if it was Kiki’s fault that she fell over.

A little crescent shaped red mark and a tiny bit of blood marks the scratch. Misha walks to the bathroom and spends 30 seconds eyeing up her grievous wound. I look at Kiki with a raised eyebrow, she returns the look with rolled eyes.

“If this scars I’m going to be so pissed! I can never wear another summer dress!” Misha stomps her feet.

“OH BOB SAGET!” I drunkenly scream, mimicking my YouTube hero Tourettes Guy.

Kiki laughs. “Mish, you’ll be fine. Calm down silly goose!”

Kiki strains to get up off the couch, her breasts must weigh a ton. My phone goes off and the late night booze delivery is here. I press 9 to buzz him up and walk to the foyer to wait at the door. Kiki clip-clops around the apartment in the background and I can hear Misha change the internet radio to bass-thumping ghetto rap. I count how many times the rapper alternates between the words “what” and “nigga” in 30 seconds. Six whats, and ten variations of the word nigga, but the beat is really catchy and I tap my foot to the track.

Knock knock. I open the door and I’m greeted with a smile. $80 goes into the hand of the grinning chubby deliveryman and I get 40 ounces of vodka in return.

“Thanks!” I say, I’ve never meant that more.

The door thuds as it closes, my excitement has me skipping back to the kitchen. Kiki, always the homemaker, already has three glasses full of ice and half-filled with cranberry juice. I top up the drinks, put the bottle down, lift up a cup and cheers to a fun night. Misha looks upset. Deep creases betray to us emotions hidden behind a mask of triple ounce drinks.

“
Fuuuck!
” Misha moans, and tosses her phone into her purse.

Kiki’s brow goes into a rare scrunch,

“What’s wrong now Mish?!”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

I laugh.

“Shut up Dyl!, Mish …what?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Misha pulls her hair back into a ponytail and sits in a red leather chair. She takes a huge mouthful of her drink.

“Okaaay,” Kiki has a sip of her drink and checks her phone. “Oh there’s a party at Tammy’s tonight!”

Misha takes another big drink. I’ve seen this before on Intervention.

My first thought to cheer up Misha is to crank the music and dance around like a complete tool. I make sure to pelvic thrust at Misha. Nothing makes her smile. Kiki gets up and dances too, and does the funky chicken. It’s pretty obvious that Misha is miserable about something.

My glass of vodka disappears on a trip to my liver, followed by quickly pouring myself another. Kiki joins me with Misha’s empty glass and her own half empty cup.

Misha yells out “Dyl, your phone is ringing!” just as I pour the first glass.

Kiki walks over to my desk and brings me my phone, I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I had Kiki text me your number, I hope you don’t mind.”

It’s Devon.

“What’s up? Haha, that’s awesome,” I smile, I’m sure she can hear the music. Kiki says “I’ll take that,” as she grabs the bottle to pour more drinks.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No, just a few friends having a few drinks, you?”

“I’m bored, I need my jewelry, and I have no booze. I could trade party favors for some? Hehe.”

Devon thinks the quickest way to this man’s heart is through his nose.

I step away from the counter and sit by the window.

“Yeah …yeah come down. 55 Cordova Street. Text me when you’re here.”

“Okay ... going to catch a cab! Bye!”

I hang up and wonder why anyone would date in this city.

Misha’s pissing again, or texting someone in the bathroom. Something’s up with her and she doesn’t want to talk about it at all.

“Kiki, I have Devon coming over in a bit. Do you guys mind if I get you two to go so I can have some, uhh ...”

“Alone time?” Kiki laughs.

“Yeah.”

“How did you swing that, getting her to ditch Daddy Warbucks for... you?!”

I don’t know if Kiki meant to sound insulting, but really, it kind of was.

“Obviously she knows when he’s pumping her that she’s basically spreading her legs for a paycheque. I can’t imagine that sex would feel very good. I know I’ve pumped a couple fatties when drunk and I know that immediately after I cum, I want to get the fuck out of there and forget it ever happened.”

Kiki stares at me with a blank face.

“Okay then! T.M.I. Dyl, T.M.I.!”

Kiki was never one for the red pill. It’s better to keep her in the dark about some things.

“I uh, I guess we could go to, Sam’s? We’ll see when Mish gets out of the can.”

I run my hand through greasy spaghetti hair, my scalp sweating crisco. Grit in the back of my nose with an old shoe soaked in vodka for a mouth. I feel perfectly dirty for what is about to transpire. Kiki finishes her drink and I head to the kitchen to grab the bottle. I can’t believe they already put such a dent in a forty. My second drink sits untouched on the counter and I have a long pull from it, top it up with vodka and cranberry, and head back with the bottles to pour Kiki another.

“What’s up with Mish?” I ask, knowing it’s probably to do with some douchebag she’s seeing, somebody like me.

“Her boyfriend is in Vegas and hasn’t texted her in days, I think she’s just worried if he’s ok. She just wants to know where he is.”

“Yeah, balls deep in some broad he met poolside, no doubt.”

“Dyl!” Kiki scowls.

A muffled scream comes from the bathroom. The door flies open and crashes into the wall behind it.

“Fuck you Dylen, go fuck yourself!” Misha half screams, half sobs.

She slams her phone down on the bathroom counter.

“Let’s
go
Kayla.”

“Misha, calm down,” Kiki says, getting up off the couch and joining her at the bathroom sink.

My mind is on the pussy delivery service that’s coming, and hoping the tear brigade leaves before she gets here. Misha fixes her makeup and walks to the purple couch to grab her jacket.

Kiki follows her, looking at me with a frown. “Are you happy? Thanks Dyl, way to ruin her night.”

Just as she says that, my phone rings to signal someone at the front gate. I push 9 to buzz them in. Kiki pours another half and half for Misha, who slams it in two large unlady-like sips. I walk over and sit on a plush reclining leather chair usually reserved for meetings. It’s behind a glass topped desk that has the green neon heart behind it, across from the purple couch. Styles of Tony Montana and The Joker mix together in my world of shit.

The girls continue to look for things they’ve left. Kiki’s phone, Misha’s bag, a hair tie, Misha’s lighter. Three door beeps means Devon just walked into the studio. Hearing her heels echo down the short hallway, in moments turning the corner to see Misha and Kiki frantically looking to leave. Misha immediately smiles and puts on a perfect social face.

“Oh hi Devon! Your stuff was SUCH a hit at the show tonight! I love your jade pieces!” Misha sings before giving her a hug.

Kiki kisses her on both cheeks, “You have to let us know the next event! I need to see what you have in the way of ankle bracelets!”

Devon looks flattered. “I don’t ... I don’t actually have ankle bracelets yet. I never thought there was much of a market for that here!”

Kiki giggles and Misha beams a smile to her.

“Well, we’re just on our way to a private party, message me on Facebook soon!”

Kiki and Misha wave and say “Bye!” in unison.

Kiki waves and says “Bye Dyl!” while Misha walks out without a word.

18 Aftertaste

Devon walks to the couch and puts her bag down, then takes off her coat.

My eyes meet hers. She’s wearing a black, skin tight dress. Her dark locks are perfectly straight, two beautiful highways of black hair draped over her buxom breasts, nearly popping out of her top. Her smile, body, and dress scream fuck me, my nose whispers for the snort me. When she walks her hips rock back and forth, a switch speaking to the oldest parts of my mind; her heels strum a subtle and sexy slow beat on the concrete floor.

Devon prowls away from the couch to squat down in front of my desk. Her chin on the backs of her sandwiched hands, elbows on the glass. Green light from the heart behind me only serves to highlight the blue of her eyes more. She looks up at me with a foxy grin and asks, “Is this where you do your business?” Inner workings of my brain gears grind out whether or not she’s
trying
to seduce me, or if she’s just naturally irresistible.

I point to the desk, I already have a straw out and a business card to chop with. She stands up, walks to the couch and opens her purse. Her hands find the goodies and she dumps the little package onto the desk. Bedroom glances over her shoulder while walking to my kitchen, I can’t take my eyes off her, staring at her ass the whole way. She comes back with the vodka bottle, sits on the corner of the desk, and takes a big swig. I unfold the flap, a porn magazine was butchered to make this convenient drug pouch, a lithe model wearing torn stockings, the innards of her vagina spread open like a predator mouth. Eyes as vacant as mine.

Dump. Crush. Scrape. Snort. My head falls back and I look to the ceiling. The green heart on the wall behind me washes everything in a sick hue, a euphoric rush spinning my soul around. Everything speeds up. Devon startles me by sitting on my lap, she dippy birds down twice, once for each nostril. The music on the stereo pumps in tune with our pulses, Devon leans in and kisses me. Bitten lips, hand in her hair, my other hand reaches up her silky smooth legs, fingers gliding up inner thigh to stoke the warmth of her panties.

“I can’t stand a man who doesn’t just get down to business,” she coos.

Her lips lock with mine and I stand up, carry her to the couch, and throw her on it.

“Oh that’s how you like it?”

Devon loses her lady like act, fast.

I unzip my pants and pull out my shrunken coke dick. She giggles, I grab a handful of her hair and she’s a bit surprised. I tilt her head up at me and smile. She squints and licks her lips.

She’s on her hands and knees, I’m standing and I push my cock into her face. Her mouth accepts it and I rock her head back and forth. She’s sucking while twirling her tongue in her mouth, soft flesh caressing the first half of my shaft. Sucking harder and harder on the head, the feeling of my precum leaking out and down her throat. I start getting harder and I let go of her hair, she looks up at me with her beautiful blue eyes, illuminated under a single light above her. Slowly beginning to face fuck her, spit slides down my shaft and onto my balls. Her eyes tear up a little and her palms are on my thighs. ‘Gukkk gukkk,’ squish squish, ‘Gakk!’ she gags and I slide out of her mouth. She uses a hand to wipe off her chin and brush aside some of her hair. She gives herself a cowlick with some missed spit, losing her princess vogue.

“You giving up?” I taunt.

“No,” she replies, and puts her mouth back on it.

She deepthroats me, choking at the base, pulling her mouth off me to spit up on the floor.

“Shit,” she breathes hard, a little shocked at her mess on the floor. I stick myself back between her full lips, soaked in a mixture of spit and precum. She looks up at me, jewels for eyes sparkling as her tongue flicks on my cock tip. Flexing my nearly hard dick, feeling the carnal desire overcome drugs, slowly fucking her mouth again. A good half minute passes and I speed up, getting harder and harder, she steadies herself with her hands on my thighs. I’m holding her by the back of her head to get a better angle. It feels amazing to crank my dick so deep in this mouth that kisses Eric each night, she probably busts his balls and now I’m busting up her throat. She gags and a huge trail of spit drops off her chin, the front of my legs are feeling wet, her nails dig in to get a solid grip. My tempo speeds up and I unexpectedly cum deep in her mouth, she gags, still buried in her mouth, I pinch her nose shut.

“Swallow, now,” I command.

She closes her eyes and chokes again and swallows.

“Good Devon, good work,” I smile.

She opens her teary eyes and smiles, my penis falling back out of her mouth. I step back and admire my work, her dress soaked down the front, her hair completely messed up. Spit, a little vomit, and a tiny few drops of wasted cum decorate the floor.

She wipes her lips off and sits back on her ankles. “Wow, I uhh … ummm,” she blushes and breathes heavy. “I’ve never had it like that.” Saying nothing, I walk back to the desk and do a fat line of blow.

Smug and temporarily satiated, my feet find their way up onto the desk and I rock back in the chair, triumphant. I feel like a conquerer. My chest thumps and my sex organ pulsates with energy. Devon, Eric’s little princess, met me and less than four hours later was swallowing the load that I pounded down her throat. Where is my drink, anyways? Devon gets up , grabs a towel and places it across her mess on the floor. She looks at me a little bashfully, and walks to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of ice. Without a word, she pours me a glass of hastily mixed cranberry vodka, lifts her own to cheers, and we drink. She takes a sip and brushes a couple hairs out of her mouth, I chug back a mouthful and then some. Her mascara has ran a little, blue orbs glowing from the centers of black flamed fires. Her pretty lips glisten. “I should get home and get this dress cleaned, haha,” she says, a hint of nervous excitement in her voice.

“I’m not finished yet,” I say, my voice stoic.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Music blares from the stereo. It’s some eurotrash electronic mix, again.

My feet fall off the desk and I stand up, my penis still semi-hard. I’m shaking a little from the drugs and the cool temperature of the studio. I take Devon by the hand and lead her to the couch, stripping the dress off her, her bra, and her fragrant panties.

Wordless, mechanically separating clothing from cheating flesh.

Her pussy has just enough hair on it, I don’t think she waxes or trims regularly for Eric, I hardly have to wonder why. Devon shakes a little, could be from the cold, or from being bent over naked on a stranger’s couch. Her head is down in a green pillow, her royal ass is pointing straight up. Without a touch, watching as her pink asshole pulsates and clenches up every few seconds from lustful anticipation.

I need an angle to work from.

Kneeling on the floor behind her I spread her pussy open with two fingers. Thick clear webs of her own excitement stick to the innermost lips of her tender folds, the contrast from her tanned body causing her to look even more aroused. A deep breath slips from Devon’s lips, I look beyond her hips to see she is squeezing couch in fists. Sleazily sliding one finger inside, her groans encourage me to fuck her with it. My digit is quickly coated in her juices and she tightens up around it. She softly moans again and again before I slide in a second, and slap her ass hard.

“Oh yeah ...” she coos.

“I bet Eric never gives it to you like this,” I state, switching to my thumb and standing up. “No ... no. Never. Like this. Oh like this!” muffled little groans escape her while I probe inside, making sure to push down and drag the bottom of my thumb on her G-spot.

I stand up and move to get on the couch beside her, pleasure moans end as my other hand’s finger enters her mouth, her tongue rolls across it while sucking, leaving a thick coating of her spit. Her asshole beckons and shall receive, my thumb sliding easily inside of her ass as she screams “Oh you didn ... nnn...t!”

“Yeah you need it like this, you’re such a whore.”

“I am a
total
whore,” She repeats.

“Who’s whore are you?”

“Oh fuck, yours, fuck I’m your whore,” she moans. I work her pussy and asshole the way an angry boxer would use a speedbag. Her wetness coats my thumb to the base and makes a sloshing sound as it grinds in and out.

“Give it to me, oh fuck!” she yells, pulling one hand back to spread open her ass cheeks more. I feel her asshole and pussy tense up and her whole body shakes into a powerful orgasm. Her hips pivot forward and my thumbs shoot out of both holes. She falls on one side, her tanned body convulses on the couch, a few little moans lighting up my ears.

My right thumb is soaked in pussy juice and my left thumb has a little streak of shit on the nail. I lean over and wipe it on the inside of her dress. At least, I think that was the inside. She opens her eyes and purrs “Come here!” I pull her back into doggystyle, line my cock up to her swollen and wet pussy, the first push to the hilt.

“Uhnngh!” she squeals, putting a hand back on my thigh, her other elbow on her coat. I begin to ramp up the speed that I fuck her, fast. Within seconds my stroke is deep and hard, a rhythmic drilling sending shock waves through her ass fat, a forceful fuck pushing her into the corner of the couch. She screams over and over.

“More!”

“Harder!”

I put both of my hands on her hips and give her all I have. My cock feels like a steel rod in a furnace of pleasure, a lightning rod of sensation, my brain lights up and I reach a high that washes over me in waves. Gasping, closed eyes spun back in my head, the suction of her silky hole milking my own fluids out of me. I continue to fuck her and pound her until I feel my balls wet with her juices. Time and pleasure intertwine to blur the line between both, drops of sweat and her cum littering the couch; they become the clock to tell us how long we’ve been fucking.

She moves forward and wrenches her hips out of my hands, flipping onto her back. Savage sex posture of kneeling one leg on the couch, her ass under her own coat, and one leg supporting myself off the cold concrete floor. Pushing myself inside her, she arches her back so I can reach under her and pull her body closer. Her writhing tanned body feels so good on me, my dick inside a soft, warm, wet world of magic. My thumb reaches down and flicks her little pink clit, she bites her lips and closes her eyes. Her immaculate hair defiled, spread out all over the back of the couch and across her full and tantalizing tits. Eric never gives it to her like this. I’m giving it all to her, slowly pushing inside her all the way, pulling it back out and watching her essence of lust give my penis a wet sheen. Each time the head slips from her pretty folds it drags moans from her heavy breathing lungs, inspires scratches from her free hands on my hips and legs. Pushing my hips forward and looking down, watching my sex saber charging through swollen curtains into a sexual battlefield, emerging coated with passion. She takes a little initiative to grind her hips, and slowly riding up and down. Her hips spin in a vertical oval pattern, blasts of pleasure coursing through me, an unexpected groan rumbles deep from my chest. She uses her arms and elbows to support herself while grinding, and I moan a few more times helplessly as I almost pop completely out of her. An expert at teasing; her motions causing the head to be caressed by her skilled, flexing opening, she then welcomes it back into her deeply.

She rides me for another few seconds before I pull out, grab her by the hand, sit on the couch, and pull her on top of me. I can see her hot, wide hips and ass in the mirror across from me.

“Ride me and make me cum, now,” speaking to her in a strict tone.

She bites my ear and neck hard, pulling my hair to the point of almost pissing me off. I use my hands to push her tits together, suck and bite her nipples, and pull her deeper. Her hair falls down across my face with the tips tickling my shoulders and chest. She reaches between her legs and lines my flesh spear up to her dripping wet slit. She sits back on her heels and the head slips in, sensations of heat and slippery pleasure tense up my entire body. She bounces slowly at first, speeding up once her fluids are coating me, and then gyrates her hips back and forth with the torque of her body weight. I move my hands down to her ass cheeks, pulling her down farther so her clit can rub against me. Just when I think she’s hitting the right spot, she claws my neck and kisses me. Her tongue dips into my mouth briefly, her quick exhaling breath warm on my face. I feel the couch getting wetter under me, thudding and rocking with the fucking. My hands dig into her ass cheeks and spread them, while pulling her in rhythm and feeling my dick buried to the hilt in her, she shrieks and rides faster, I feel myself getting ready to explode.

“I want you to cum inside me,” she whispers

“Keep riding like that, yeah like that.”

She twists and thrusts her hips back and forth, and side to side. Losing my patience and grabbing her by the back of her head, my back arched to bury it as deep as possible. I fuck her with all of my might, pounding it in her and tensing up. Beginning to soak in both of our sweat, I push it in as deep as possible and feel the release inside of her. My cock pulses and dumps what feels like my entire load of semen inside her, her hair in my mouth, we kiss. Salty, numbing cranberry.

She falls forward on me, with me still inside. Both panting and sweating, I hold her for what must be minutes. There’s still a half gram of coke on the desk, but I’m spent. We roll off her jacket onto the other side of the couch and spoon. She closes her eyes and sighs. I reach behind the couch and pull a blanket out and we lay there, tingling with pleasure. Usually at this point I’d turn the lights out as a hint of getting a taxi or sleeping over, but I’m too comfortable to move. My eyelids grow heavy and I soon join her, eyes closed, on the same pillow.

“Rinnnnggg!”

“Rrinnnnggg!”

“Rrrinnnnggg!”

“Rrrrinnnnggg!”

“Rrrrrinnnnggg!”

Silence.

“Rrrrrrinnnnggg!”

“Rrrrrrrinnnnggg!”