Saturday, August 10, 2013

In the carpet

Somehow he already has his shirt off, muscular arms and this big tattoo of a snake on his belly. Want to see the rest, he says, and starts to pull down his pants but then he says just kidding, Miss-ter Mattilda— I’m not trying to rape ya. Although I bet you’ve got a nice ass. Oops — hope you don’t mind my humor, it’s in the gutter. Do you like my playhouse? Ooh, ooh — I forgot to introduce myself. Bobby, like the bar, that’s my bar, Bobby’s. You like that bar?
Ha, ha — stumped you on that one. Lots of hot boys there, though, right? Lots of hot boys.
If you like that sort of thing.
What sort of thing, Mister Mattilda, what sort of thing do you mean?
Underage boys from the suburbs wearing too much CK One.
I could see you at Bobby’s, dancing to the latest hits with your shirt off.
I don’t like the latest hits. And I don’t generally dance with my shirt off.
What’s the matter — are you shy? I bet you like disco — I’ve got lots of disco — ooh, ooh, I remember disco, don’t I remember disco? How old are ya? No, no, don’t tell me — just a baby, my baby, young enough to be my baby. Do ya like ecstasy, I’ve got ecstasy.
How ‘bout music, do you like music? I’ll put on something nice that we can dance to. Donna Summer?
I don’t really like disco.
Are you kidding me? Where did I pick this one up? I bet you don’t even like ecstasy.
I do like ecstasy.
Well, why don’t you pick out some music, maybe do some more K K ketamine, and I’ll be right back, pussy cat.
I’m looking through his records, but I can’t find anything that looks good to me – maybe Kraftwerk? I hate their computer voices.
Bobby comes back and now he looks kind of sexy, can’t decide if it’s just because his shirt’s off or because I’m getting K-ed out and it’s funny because in the park I would be on my knees sucking his dick but here I’m sinking into the sofa and the lights are getting really interesting. Bobby hands me a hit of ecstasy and a glass of orange juice. You do drink orange juice, don’t you, he says. What did you pick?
I can’t decide.
Donna Summer it is — then it’s gotta be Donna Summer. Just joking with ya — what about ESG, do you know about ESG?
I don’t think so.
These black girls from the Bronx, sisters who got together in the late-‘70s to play music and it’ll blow you away. Blow, blow, blow — let me do some more of this here K, ‘kay? Ooh, yeah, ooh, ooh, that’s right, listen to this.
He’s right. The music is great. I can’t tell if they’re playing instruments or if it’s synthesizers. Do you want to watch some porn, Bobby says.
Not really.
A cocktail, do you want a cocktail?
What’ll ya have, dearie?
A screwdriver.
Yeah, baby, that’s the way I like it: a screw. Did anyone ever ask you if that hair is real?
Ooh, yeah, ooh baby yeah. Help yourself to more of that K.
I do another line, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to get up off this sofa. I love that disco ball — I should get one at home. Ned would love it, right?
Bobby comes back with a cocktail in a huge glass, like 32 ounces, something ridiculous, it’s almost too heavy to hold. I think the ecstasy is starting to hit, seems pretty fast so maybe it’s just the K. Bobby’s running all over the room, I can’t tell what he’s doing, but it’s pretty funny to watch.
You get really calm, he says, you get really calm on it, you just calm the fuck down like it’s all so easy, yeah, so easy, you just calm the fuck down.
I don’t remember vodka ever tasting this good, is this really vodka? It tastes like something else. The lights are starting to go in and out of my eyes and Bobby’s doing that thing where he pushes his hand right in front of my face and I go whoa, and then he starts laughing so I do it and he goes whoa, whoa, and I go whoa, whoa, and I guess now we’re kind of at the same level, level 42, what does that mean, why 42.
42, he says how did ya know — yeah, boy, I’m 42. Old enough to be your father. Except, wait, I’m 52 — how does that make you feel? Whoa, whoa, let’s go for a ride. Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do, but never had the balls to?
Gross. I hate it when someone says balls. I just want to sit here and watch the world like it’s a game, and Bobby keeps going whoa, ooh, ooh, whoa, and I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me but then he says wait, wait, have you ever seen Boys in the Sand? It’s porn, but it’s art. It’s porn when porn was art. From the ‘70s. Before you were born. I’ve got it on Super-8, I can take out my projector and set it up.
Bobby doesn’t wait for my answer, he just starts setting up the projector so I figure it’s a good time to do more K, right? Bobby says you go boy, you go, you go, you go, and I wonder if I look as wacky as he does now. I head for the bathroom, and yes, this carpet, yes, oh, I want to take my shoes and socks off to feel this carpet and wow, red, the whole bathroom is red, even the lightbulb, everything except the floor — I love it, I love red and my eyes in the mirror, oh, yes, this is so much fun, give me more.
Back in the living room, Bobby’s still setting up the projector, I guess it’s kind of complicated, and I take off my shoes. Oh, my feet in the carpet, oh, let me sit on the floor, yes, this carpet. And the disco ball lights swirling around the splatter-painted walls it’s like the paint is coming off the walls and flying around the room, is that really happening?
Make yourself comfortable, Bobby’s saying, so okay, it’s kind of warm, maybe I will take off my shirt. Oh, skin. Yeah, Bobby says, yeah, you go, make yourself comfortable. And this sofa, wow, so soft, and yes, I really want to take off my pants too, but I’m way too high to have sex so I say Bobby, and he says yes, yes, my dear, and I say Bobby, I’m having so much fun.
And he says ooh boy that’s great, that’s why you’re here, and I say I think I’m going to take my pants off, but I don’t want to have sex, is that okay, and he says of course, of course that’s okay, dearie, why don’t we get naked and make ourselves comfortable. And I say I think I’m going to keep my boxers on, and Bobby says okay, I’ll keep my briefs on, and it’s kind of funny watching him take off his pants I mean where are we?

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