City of Singles (5 page)

7 Empty Is the New Full

The world is such a noisy place when your eyes first stir in the morning. Two slits twitch a few times before shutting again. Pipes rattling, a glass of water filled, maybe. The rapid buzz of a ten-speed being back pedaled throws an unwelcome wave in my tranquil pond of slumber. Some green asshole is recycling, a few bottles clank together, the shitty, cheap scratching of blue bin plastic dragged on asphalt. Right now my sleep takes priority over the earth. A bird chirps a happy little tune to remind me of what a prick I am.

The scent of coffee mixed with the pillow, pretty hair with mocha, almost. Weight shifts on the bed and I can feel a hand gently peel back the blanket covering my face. Sunlight tears in through the window and proceeds to bounce off the walls before finding a home in my retinas. Slamming shut my eyes as hard as I can, but to no use. Daisy yellow tones burst through tired eyelids, morning needs to only wait for my surrender.

The red haired girl has her hand on my side and brings a steaming cup close to my face. Precious caffeine filled brew wafts aggressively to chase off the scent of pillow sweat. A mumble of thanks, my body curls up slowly to tuck the pillow into my armpit. Leaning onto my side, she passes me the broken-handled mug and beams a ‘good morning!’ Ignoring her wasn’t my plan, but etiquette and thoughtful behavior are best found in the reflection at the bottom of the first empty mug.

A few large mouthfuls and I’m spotting my has-been face blurry on wet ceramic, my tongue burnt and palate unsatisfied. Her smile makes up for the cheap, syrupy chocolate aftertaste. That same 7-11 ghetto gourmet from my truck driving days. Being 19 was a lifetime ago now, sucks how the coffee hasn’t improved much in my life. She comments on how fast I drink, I smile and put my right arm around her and pull her close for a quick peck.

“Eww, Coffee AND morning breath, gross!” she squeals, jumping off the bed.

“Come on, I have things to do today!” She says, turning around to walk out the bedroom door.

She’s maybe 5’4, with a spunky demeanor, red hair just under her shoulders, a wide set of hips, small waist accented by a pierced belly button; and some nice legs. Two giant perfectly perky breasts, spotted pink and peach nipples any man would love to suck on. She is really shy in bed, unless she’s on M. A bad man introduced her to it. I may have felt guilty the next day if her body and sex weren’t so mind blowing.

Naked and not intending to dress soon, but there is no way she’s coming back in here as long as my breath still reeks. I stumble out of bed, knocking over a glass of water and muttering ‘shat’ half comically. One step and already some shit got fucked up, this wouldn’t bode well if I still cared about being good, but she won’t notice the carpet lake anyways. Out of her bedroom, I hop over a pile of shoes spilling from her closet spaced between her room and the bathroom. It looks like a volcano of dirty flats, hiking shoes, and loafers. My curiosity bends over and places a pair of red high heels down the side of the round pile. Lava, I snicker as I credit myself with the first artistic vision of the day.

A gleeful hop into her tiny bathroom, scanning the counter for the green toothbrush she bought for me. Nice girl. I pearl up my whites and check my breath, a human mojito, or laundry detergent, something in between those. A smell wafting off me, a faint odour of her bed lingers on my body. That mild sweet female scent, no doubt there are pheromones that I can’t perceive influencing my mind. The immediate reaction of getting turned on tossing my train of thought into a flaming wreck at the bottom of a sharp, steep curve. The pipes rattle as I brush and rinse, I’m sure she can hear it. Rinsing my mouth out a final time, a breath check once before giving a stupid grin in the mirror.

Stepping out of her bathroom, her striking figure catches my attention. She’s smoking a cigarette on her balcony, a hint of underbreast peeking out from under her tank top. She has her back against the side of the sliding glass door frame, her side profile makes her breasts look huge. Thin white legs with toned muscle are propping her up, my eyes catching shadows under her slightly stiff nipples. Her striking crimson hair blows in a light breeze, my imagination sums up life as an x-rated Aerosmith video from the 90s. The sun is already high in the air and casts a glow on top of her head, shadows play on her face. She must have felt my gaze and turns her head to look me in the eyes. Smling, she asks if I still believe in pants. With a giggle I smile back and say nothing, dart into her bedroom, and jump into her bed. I’m laying naked under the covers, the excitement of exhibitionism stirs in me and the anticipation is very arousing. I know what I’m going to do when she walks in here.

Just as I’m ready to ask if she’s chain-smoking the whole pack, she steps into her room. Squish.

She looks down at her now-wet sock with a horrified look on her face. Sitting up in bed, my hand reaches out to grab her. She’s scowling at the carpet in a pose of frantic dismay. Stretching forward with the blanket over me, a tug on her shirt gently pulls her into bed. She laughs landing on her back next to me, knees up to her belly, her wet-socked leg high in the air.

“Uhnn! Ahh! Take it off!”

One of our first conversations we agreed how much wet socks feel nasty when worn. Grabbing her other leg with a grin, and off comes the non-wet sock. She turns her head and frowns. I pull up her shirt to reveal her beautiful natural breasts, fingers tracing lazy circles down smooth belly skin in search of jean shorts and a way inside. Her hand finds mine to pull it away from her pants and she pulls down her shirt.

An errant few hairs fall from her bangs into her face. She blows it back up with mildly frustrated gusto followed by a smirk.

“Really? REALLY?” she says, “I bring you coffee in bed and you spill my water. I step in it and instead of pulling off my wet sock you try and undress me!”

I was only undressing her in alphabetical order.

She laughs. “Tank top comes after shorts.” she snorts, as she takes a pillow and puts it under her head.

My excuse becomes, on pretty girls, anything worn as a top becomes a blouse.

“You’re such an idiot!”

She smiles.

Grinning, I lean in for a kiss, her tongue finds mine and my body reacts fast. My left arm slides under her pillow and half on top of her, kissing her while my right arm finds her chest. My index finger and thumb start to slowly pinch and twist her left nipple and our face sucking ramps up passionately. A bite of her upper lip and she exhales hard. She tilts her head back and sticks her lower lip out. My teeth grab onto it briefly, the nicer side of me choosing to give it a suck instead of a bite. I like to keep her guessing.

Letting go of her nipple, my hand reaches up to brush hair from her face. Tucking it behind her ear causes her to sigh, her face relaxing while my fingers caress the nape of her neck. Her head turns towards me slowly and her lips beckon me closer. Slow kisses and soft bites of her ear, working down to her shoulders I feel her back rise and fall on the bed, writhing with desire. My right hand kneads her breasts and she lets out another small gasp. My mouth meanders down towards her right mound, the beautiful pink and peach nipple standing up for some needed attention. Horny lips find it, my tongue rolling over to tease her before grinding it lightly with my back teeth.

Alternating the sucking with a gentle biting, an excited beast’s paw rips open the button on her shorts. They quickly open and my finger crawls down and makes a tunnel into her panties. She grabs my hair and gives an ‘ooh’ as my mouth works her nipple faster and faster. A probing hand fully enters her panties, my middle finger finds her sweet spot already drenched with excitement. Exploring digits find the hood and peel it back between my index and ring finger, my middle puts on the pressure and I rub in sync with the biting and playing on her nipple.

“Oh, oh my ... I have to leave for work.. Soo ... soon…” Her voice trails off those last few words.

I stop playing with her clit and slowly start penetrating her with my middle finger. She arches her back again, bashing her breasts into my face. Moving up a little to run my mouth down her chest, I dot kisses from her breasts to her panty line. My finger is halfway inside giving a come-hither motion. She pushes her knees together while her feet splay out to the sides, her eyes closed, with her mouth open and breathing hard. My left arm pulls on her shorts and she uses both of her arms, arching her back to pull off her pants and panties with one move, then off with her top. She falls back onto the bed to spread her legs wide, my finger finding its way back inside. Both of her hands clench the sheets. Her face is turning red while fingers wiggle inside, sliding in and out of her as far as they can. I speed up and she turns her head towards me and opens her eyes, her expression one of an erotic agony.

Warm juices are flowing down my finger and onto the back of my hand. I feel her lips and muscles tighten and loosen in rhythm. Her pussy tightens at quicker intervals, matching the speed and depth at which I penetrate her. The odour of her wetness, the sight of her tight body dancing with pleasure; the sound of her moans hit me on a primal level. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing as I am fully in the moment. An animal. Fucking.

“Right there, that’s it ... Don’t stop,” she purrs, her eyes widen as she tilts her head up. Her body goes tense as she lets out another gasp.

“I ... Have to work, you ... Come fuck me now or ... Or I will be late” she stammers in between breaths.

I had been too caught up pleasuring her to notice my pre-cum all over her blanket. She is shaking with pleasure as she reaches out with her feet to my hips, pulling me in.

“Come here, come,” she whispers.

I nearly fall on top of her and the head of my cock rests against her, pointing up towards her belly button.

“If you want to cum you need to do it now, I have work in 30 minutes.” She smiles and wiggles her hips up, trying to get me inside her.

As her red pubic hair tickles the bottom half of my shaft, my hips twitch uncontrollably away from her. The tip of my penis lands right on her clit and her face shows delight. Tingling with excitement and pulling back just a little more, the soaking opening of her blooming bubble-gum pussy moistens my better head. Wasting no time, I push it halfway in, and with simultaneous moans and shudders, our bodies come together to ram it inside. Squeezing her legs on me tight, she tenses up and grinds our pubic bones together.

“Hurry, I’m not used to getting it... like this...”

With her legs on my shoulders, watching myself slide in and out at a fast pace. Her girl parts are moist and delicious looking. Very stimulated, her nearly-fuschia toned lips are wreathed in milky white skin, an orangey tuft of prickly hair neatly trimmed above it. Her legs are so soft, holding onto them I appreciate their supple, shammy feel. Working to thrust hard and fast, in minutes I’m breathing heavy and dripping sweat onto her. She is holding her headboard, shaking it with every moan.

“I’ll be late, finish ... Last chance!” she yells, I think she’s serious.

I pull out and push on her leg to roll her over.

“Finish like this, inside me, you have two minutes.”

She positions her wide hips in the air, grabs the headboard with both hands, and rests her head down on its side.

She’s presenting herself in a completely submissive position with her head down and her genitals exposed right to my face. Her tiny blushing asshole and pussy are both soaked in our combined sex wax. Her gorgeous, round ass soon receives a light smack, to which she demands I put it in. Moving to stand up on my knees and grabbing a hand full of my cock to line up the head, locked on target. My penis slides in gently and I lean back to watch the lips of her body bring me into orgasm. Her wide, bountiful hips charm my mind and I soon feel a pulsing sensation in my scrotum. It begins to fill my body with electrical sensations and a slap lands on her ass once more. She feels the early pulses of my orgasm about to arrive, her demands that I finish growing louder.

“Yes, yes, fucking do it, fill me!” The redheaded trollop screams.

Trying to grant her frantic wish, I fuck her as hard and as deep as I can. Sliding inside her and pulling all the way back, stabbing forward to split her inner goddess in half. Just as the pain from my pubic bone ramming hers grows to a near intolerable level, I erupt inside her with one last push to the hilt. Gifting her a little bit of me with each throb, after a dozen the sex feels complete. She quietly gasps, her own body squeezing down on me almost to help receive the sticky gift. Feeling the last of our mutual spasms, I crash down next to her in bed, sweat and sex fluids soak into the sheets for her to remember me by.

Moments later, she’s up and my clothing is thrown onto me. I put it on without wiping myself off and I soon regret the feeling of wearing a giant wet sock for a shirt. She frantically gets dressed and we power walk to my car. The conversation on the ride there is upbeat and light hearted, save for one comment. She smiles and flicks smoke ash out of the passenger window.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been used for sex before.” She casually rolls it off her tongue while we’re at a light.

I didn’t say anything, never having really thought of what she was to me. I guess if you don’t think of what a girl means to you, she can’t mean much. Ruminating over this after dropping her off, it’s hard to shake the feeling that we’re just using each other. It sort of hits me in the Starbucks drive-thru line up. Of course I’m using her for sex, as much as she uses me. I live in a city where it would take me ten years to afford a down payment on a house, and that’s if I cut back my lifestyle so I live in poverty while saving. Housing prices will probably go up faster than my savings can grow. What can I possibly fucking offer a girl besides my dick?

8 Something For Nothing

My mind wanders over whether or not my fluid transaction of the morning was full of purpose or just temporary pleasure. Yeah, I do find her eloquent in speech, perky, satisfying, and with a touch of class. Her dad probably spends time with her and shows he cares about her. The car jerks forward and spits out a ca-chunk of a less than elegant mechanical diarrhea. I stalled the car. The left foot gets lazy on the clutch when I’m drive dreaming.

I push the start button. A pleasant, subtle vroom alerts me to the engine running. You used to have to actually turn a key, push the gas pedal in, and wait for the engine to fire. Now getting a car started mirrors dating; one poke and we’re ready to move on. Ease up on the clutch, inch the car forward, stop. I’m now giving a purple rectangle paper to a yellow haired girl for a white cup of brown fluid and a few silver circles of beaver, boats, and moose. Her smile through the drive thru window is perfect and my customer experience is magical. If I could stretch out our ten seconds of bliss into a relationship that would be equally as happy, I’d have it made. Maybe my eyes would learn to not even notice her chipped tooth or imperfect left eyebrow. Who knows, someone in love could even grow to adore those flaws. A steaming cup from her hand to mine, and then it goes in the optional hundred and forty five dollar BMW sport holder. Pulling back into traffic is accomplished by spinning expensive tires for giggles. Foam shoots out of the traveler lid and joins the residue from the last coffee on the console below.

The Starbucks is soon a blur in my rearview, the last outpost of consumerism on the outskirts of a valley of poverty and shit. My art studio loft is on the long other end of this street of reuptake inhibited smiles. Mad Max didn’t have heated leather or a non-fat, no whip, half sweet venti mocha, but fuck me if Oppenheimer Park doesn’t remind me of Thunderdome. The streets are lined with beaten down looking people. Their faces echo the stained, once clean storefronts. The small neon “OPEN” signs mimicking the faint glimmer of hope left in the eyes of people who end up down here. Sometimes I stare while picturing every one of their heads as a hand with middle finger extended. I frantically laugh and speed up when I think of how close I’ve been to becoming one of the fuck you zombies. As if doing thirty kilometers-per-hour faster could outrun debt or addiction.

Shadows cling to everything a little more down here, even at noon on a sunny day. Unmarked crosswalks are everywhere and people zigzag through traffic. The view from above reminds one of scattering roaches when a light comes on in a low rent apartment. Up ahead a grimy yellow signals some bullshit delaying my drive. Caught contemplating running it for a moment too long, and I end up needing to use more brakes than normal. The tires give off a chirp as anti-lock brakes dig in to stop. I grab my almost-tipping coffee in my right hand and nothing spills out. Yes. The image of the internet meme success kid pops to mind while stopped at a red in the heart of Sketchville. Do these people even know what The Internet is?

I glance around with undeserved haughty disgust, mixed with curiosity and sprinkled with fear. My eyes meet with those of a native guy sitting on the sidewalk with his back against a building. The whole block might remind someone of a gutter as trash is strewn about everywhere. He’s wearing a Canucks hat, green t-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes that were probably once white. I wonder what he’s thinking while looking at me. He has no idea how delicious this fucking coffee is. I bet he probably thinks I had everything handed to me, much like I think he probably has never held a job. A few generations ago, his family and people were free to roam and live how they’ve always lived. Now he’s obsolete, his community and spiritualism given the token treatment. Here, bang this drum and smile for the camera.

I’m lost in thought and a double tapped horn from behind brings me out of it. I have no idea how long the light was green for. Throwing it in first gear, my impatient feet give it enough clutch slip and gas to open a new conflict on the Niger delta, or some other shithole I could care less about. The next block is a blur and my red BMW blows through a late yellow that marks the line between feces and fancy. The road turns to cobblestone about a half block ahead, a few tourists are out. I stop to let a group cross the street. My eyes glaze over as my mind returns to the native guy. If he had seen so many of his friends and family getting high, maybe he couldn’t build another vision for anything else in life. Looking to my own relationships, maybe my nonchalance stems from how inevitable divorce seems to be. If I don’t play your game, I can’t lose. On the flip side, my dick can be friends with a million pussies, but if my heart doesn’t play nice with others, what then?

My right hand leaves the wheel to find the play button on the stereo. Back to a default Gastown frown and muttering “Fuck” to myself whenever life’s gloom gets too much. I’ll take this opportunity to put some heavy metal on to drown out the narrative of self-doubt. Driving my aluminum chariot around the block, into the urinal smelling alley, swipe, click, and the gate opens its mouth to swallow me. I whip the agile car inside and watch it close, preventing any windows from being broken in the urban hunt for loose change. Parking and taking the elevator up to the studio, the lift sounds like it’s about to completely disintegrate. Old sushi welcomes me home. There’s a shit-ton of emails I have to sort, a post-it reminds me of an event, and piles of laundry equal only in height to the mountains of dirty dishes. I pour vodka with cranberry, 50/50 mix. I smile and imagine myself relaxing against the side of a building, watching busy assholes sipping overpriced coffee.