Elegant, beautiful, I was the belle of the ball. ...I was meant to be, anyway. Just last night... The stress of everything had been starting to get to me. Work. Family. Life. Planning the... it. Everything was building, coalescing, and then, quite suddenly, it stopped. It was over. I didn't feel it anymore. I was free.
He left me.
An instant, a flash, a horrifying blast of anguish. He was just... gone. Absent. Vanished. All the air left with him when he went. Standing in a vacuum, I'm choking on emptiness, trying to find my phone in pockets that don't exist. Out of nowhere, and without transition, I find myself sitting on the floor, cornered by nobody. Hugging my knees only wraps me in the no longer comforting folds of my snowy white dress, quickly soaking and spilling with an ocean of tears. Lashed tightly together by ropes of my own limbs and hair, I just quiver and shake pathetically, a tangled mess. Sobbing in a spiral of sorrow, cackling in a cacophony of catastrophe; and utterly unpitiable.
I'm staying here until this dress turns black. This is too much. Indignity and humiliation unchained like ravenous spectators hungry for bloodsport. In a strange way, I know that's who is really waiting for me tomorrow. Those who haven't disappeared, anyway.
Frozen to the warm wooden floor, I cannot even move but to whimper and sob my sorrows in to the silence of the room. I don't know where he is. How long he's been gone. Why I'm still alone in this room. Where a single friend might be. A moment of peak tension is arrived, and I cannot stand it. Everything has reached its boiling point and I scream. Open my mouth and just scream right out loud. Neck craned back, head toward the moon, straight through the roof, I crack the sky with my howl.
In time, the chaos settles like storm clouds into fog. I can breathe again. When the scream fades I still can't see. All I can do is feel.
“I hate myself,” the words ring aloud. “I hate him,” these escape my lips more quietly but speak more truly. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this...” then the muttering simply takes me away...
- - -
This bed is soft. Cool, too. The window is open. I don't remember opening it. My head hurts and I'm dizzy. White walls pulse rhythmically like the veins that line my fragile skull. 'How?' My constant refrain, echoing softly in the cavernous hole he has left in my mind. Repeating my words inside myself, I am barely able to stir beneath the covers, let alone pull them back. I'm seriously considering peeing right here. Right now. At this very moment. No... I'm sure my companion in bed would object to that...
Wait, what?!
Frantic, confused, alarmed, a bit aroused, I whip my head to the side in the hopes of identifying the quiet source of warmth lying next to me. Sharp movement was the wrong choice. Blurriness and nausea black out my vision, so I throw off the covers and run blindly for the bathroom. By the time I arrive I'm okay again, or closer to. Not going back to my room though; not looking that man in the eye. Not right now, anyway.
Breathlessly sauntering toward the kitchen, the morning starts tormenting me further. It's harsh, but sultry, like well blown smoke rings breaking against my face. Heavily, I sit in the least wobbly chair at the table. Within only moments, Jasmine enters the room. She says nothing as she passes by the nook to the kitchen.
A soft warmth kisses my arm tenderly, sunlight seductively slipping through the pale, sheer kitchen curtains. Each breath of late summer breeze tosses the lacy fabric aside, calming the acidic gnawing inside me, but only slightly. As Jasmine holds herself over the stove, boiling water, she slumps slightly, supporting herself with both palms and gazing downward. Last night is clearly exacting a severe toll on her.
Silently reminding myself of soothing mantras and massaging circles around my temples, I close my eyes and try to make some sense of my bruises. No answers are apparent though, even in the pleasant shade of my eyelids. In fact, the darkness behind them seethes and swirls, threatening to make me sick, and they snap open instinctively.
Sitting across the table from me now, Jasmine pushes a cup of seared, blackened sludge toward me, unconcerned that it sloshed what genuinely appeared to be liquified tar onto the unsoiled floral print of her new table cloth.
“Coffee?” she asks.
“It looks caustic,” I tell her.
Cautiously, I sniff it, and confirm my assessment, but take a sip. I can't taste anything, or feel anything, at first...
Ow! Fuck! Fucking HOT. Vile. Black coffee. Grounds. Bad bourbon... and... what is that? The face-twisting, twinned burn of alcohol and near-boiling liquid falls from my mouth, scalding my face, slightly. “Ow.”
“You know, I think you may have gotten mine,” Jasmine says.
“You think?”
“Hey, I said I was sorry.”
“Actually, you didn't,” Andrea's voice comes from behind us as she exits the bathroom clad only in a towel, and a massive, thick cloud of steam.
“Hey Andy,” Jasmine says.
“Hey,” she says.
As we switch our coffees back, she raises her cup and says, “Happy now?”
“I don't even want to know what's in there. Yes.”
“I think the secret ingredient you're trying to identify is tequila.” Identifying the look on my face as disgust, she tries to defend herself by saying, “We ran out of whiskey halfway through my pour.”
“Stop,” I say. “Whatever. We have something more important to discuss.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, the suspense building.
My heart is starting to pound. “Well...”
Another voice from around the corner blearily speaks up, as Ursula emerges from the hallway, “Like what the hell happened last night?” Enthusiastic sarcasm penetrates a wide, grinning yawn.
“Oh...” Jasmine elongated the syllable knowingly, tauntingly, teasingly.
“Just shut up and enlighten me.”
“Enlighten you? Aren't you shiny and awake this morning?”
“What... happened?” I ask again, losing my patience, unconsciously massaging one temple far more vigorously than the other, and in larger circles.
“Oh, yeah,” she starts, “I have no idea. None whatsoever,” she ends with a grin.
“Are you kidding me?!” I exclaim at her, half amused, half furious.
“I'm totally serious. Ursula?”
“Clueless. Matthew?”
Standing behind me now is the last of their roommates, and one of my best friends. “Nope, must have been a hell of a party, though."
“Matthew!” I stand and wrap my arms around him. I'm really pleased to see him, even though his too-short flower print silk kimono is hanging a little too far open.
“I definitely remember breakfast...” Ursula's voice comes from behind me, trailing off a bit. “Well into the afternoon. Yeah...”
“Right,” Jasmine remembers, “Mimosas at breakfast.”
What?
Everything stops inside me. Breakfast? “I need everyone to back up for a second. Breakfast? You mean the meal we're all about to have? No. Wait. Where's my parents? Where's the hotel?”
The room stops now. Everybody is quiet, then silent. They are all looking at me, and I can hear them blinking. Like in a cartoon. That could just be the hangover though. Andrea is the first to react. Swiftly, silently, she passes out. Silently until she hits the floor of course.
Ursula speaks, “Well, that happened.”
“Huh.”
“So,” Jasmine pipes up, “You're a day behind the rest of us. This should be fun.”
Ursula elbows Jasmine in the ribs and kisses her full on the lips, taking her breath away. “Be nice, honey. What's the last thing you do remember clearly?” she asks me.
After I fill them in it becomes clear that I'm about thirty hours out of touch with the world. Only the haziest, darkest blurs of memory are available to me. Really meaningless stuff. “I'm here. I'm not getting married. That's pretty much what I remember.”
“Maybe we overdid it...” Matt says.
“Maybe?” Ursula asks sarcastically.
“No. I trust you guys. I'm sure I needed it. Just remind me what happened.”
After a long, continued awkward pause I demand, “Who wants to start?”
“I guess I'll go,” Matthew says. “I honestly don't remember that much either, but I'm solid until the end of breakfast I think.”
“Definitely go first,” Jasmine says to Matt, while looking to Ursula and nodding. “You're the only who knows what went down in that bathroom.”
“Well, that's probably true,” he says.
“We did a bunch of drugs,” I tell them.
“Pretty much...”
“You remember?” Jasmine asks.
“She doesn't have to.”
“No I do not.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because if it's something sketchy that was done in a bathroom with Matt, it was a bunch of drugs. I lack the necessary equipment for anything else.” The ladies opposite the table from us giggle as I say that.
“Sure you do...” As they speak, I get the impression they're mocking one of us.
“Well, it wasn't much. It was something your student gave me, Professor,” he says to Jasmine sarcastically. “Yeah we overdid it, but in a good way.”
“You are such a douche,” Ursula says.
“No, it's okay, I'm remembering a bit. He woke me up, and other than the fact that it was... embarrassing, that was great because he saved me from my mother interrupting me like that later.”
Glaring at me in awe, mouth agape a long moment, Matty finally says, “You'd have still been going at it like that by the time she came looking for you?”
“What? Emotional trauma makes me horny. What do you want me to do about it? No need need to make fun of me.”
“No, you're right, I didn't mean to do that at all. I withdraw my statement,” he says.
“...Anyway, I wasn't doing well, and I told him I needed a pick me up. Coffee wasn't doin' it, so he showed me a little surprise and said 'guess what'. I mean, it's been a long time, but it's a special occasion, so I figured what the hell, right?”
“That explains breakfast,” says Ursula, clapping her hands together in amusement, “Oh damn, girl. I wondered why you just weren't having any of your mother's... anything. Now's probably a good time to mention that here is as good a place as any to stay for a while.”
“Thanks...” I say, closing my eyes.
“Can you remember anything else?”
“Maybe...” I strain through the fog, and the earth splitting hangover.
“Try to build on those details,” Ursula says, “Don't think about what's next, just allow it to surface, if it's there. Sip your coffee.”
“Alright,” I say, relaxing.
As I close my eyes to dim the morning, slowly everything fades away, quiet. Very gradually an image or a detail flashes in the dark. Something in the smell of the coffee is bringing a memory, and in the dimmest reaches of my mind, it does begin to unfold...
- - -
Sun glaring in the window of the suite is the first thing I remember, along with my fingers, strumming over my slippery clit. My things are wet. The fabric between my legs is soaked. Erotic tears are streaming down my face, hot enough to burn while I work, and I work furiously. Passionately, I grind against myself. A finger inside now, I raise my hips off the bed. The rest continue their work as it begins its task inside me.
As the first finger curls within, another embeds itself into me. I scream, as yet another orgasm takes me. All night like this, I haven't been able to stop. My dress is drenched and so am I. Fuck! Liquid fire continues to fall from my eyes, and surges briefly onto my hand as well. Crying out again, I brush my clit, holding the scream as pleasure as long as I can, keeping the tears of sorrow at bay only with more powerful ones. The screams are laughter and sobbing at once, the orgasm a wave rising and falling, working toward a massive crest.
I reach it, bellowing with sexual prowess, three fingers buried inside me, my other hand playing with my nipple, working my breasts like he used to fail at. Just as I fall, nearly the moment the blackness of despair wraps its wings around me again the door opens without warning.
“Whoa! Sorry to interrupt... That.”
“What the hell, Matthew?” I yell, hysterically.
“Didn't you hear me knocking? Asking if you were okay?”
Pausing, I say, “I guess not,” before drifting mostly back to an unconscious state.
“Well, I hate to disturb you, but your family is on their way.”
Totally unable to process, I ignore him, moaning less than gibberish in the face of this important news, and rolling to face the pillow.
He waits. A moment, then another.
Snapping out of it for a moment, I sit up like a bolt of lightning, and manage to exclaim as though I'm properly aware, “Shit! Thank you, Matty.”
“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up a little.”
“Cleaned up?” I ask, in fact still delirious.
“Yeah. You can't wear that. You're sort of a mess, honestly.”
“Ouch.”
“I know, but seriously. Look.”
I stand, and look at myself the standing mirror in the corner of the room. “Who's that?” I ask, not nearly as ironically as Matt thinks. I step closer and examine her, “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I can't go to breakfast like this.”
“Not with your father.”
“Not with my mother.”
“Regardless...” he says.
“Fine,” I say, “Help me.”
“What?”
“Isn't this what friends are for the day after your failed wedding? Please.”
“...Convincing.”
“Thank you...” I say so quietly he almost can't hear.
The next moments are long and awkward. He helps me out of my dress; a somewhat involved process. Fortunately he was the one who helped me into it.
“You really did a number on this thing,” he says, examining the dress as he helps me out of it.
“Would you believe me if I said I fell down some stairs?” I ask, trying to laugh and failing spectacularly. Failing with a few tears.
“Oh, it's okay. I'm sorry, honey. I was just thinking and it happened out loud. Come on, we'll get you ready,” he says.
I'm naked now. And tired. Just so tired still. Matt walks me to the bathroom, and helps me into the shower, where I sit on the large seat. Freakin' honeymoon suite. Not even my style. His hotel, his idea. His fucking breakfast we're going downstairs to. That's it. Enough.
A scream. A loud one. I think it came from me. I catch her in the mirror again. She's crying again. No, it's definitely me. Damn. I'm properly awake. Yep. This is my life. I'm wet now. He's turned on the shower...
“You didn't want to ask if I'm alright after that scream?”
He just looks at me for a moment, as if extremely puzzled, then says, “Of course you're not alright.”
- - -
“...And that's the last thing I can remember for a little while, I think,” I tell them. I do not share every detail with them as it appears, but instead lead them to tell me some of it. It is blurry, but more than that, I expect I won't want them all to know some of the parts they weren't there for.
“Well,” Matt says, “I excused myself once you discovered the shower-head and decided it was a good idea.”
Damn.
“Well, eventually you both came downstairs for breakfast.”
“Yeah. She put on a more appropriate dress and came down, but she wasn't doing too good,” says Matt, stroking my back comfortingly, and maybe a little mockingly. I can never tell with him.
He's right though, I really wasn't...
- - -
I can barely hold my head up, as Matt towels me off. Once dry I just hug him and cry for a while. “What's wrong with me?”
“I think the better question is 'what's wrong with him?' He's the screwed up one in this scenario. Plain, simple; cut, dry.” He hugs me.
“Matty...” I say, holding my friend as tightly as ever I have.
“Hey...” he says, stroking my hair, and holding me too. “It's alright.”
We stay like that a while. Periodically my quiet sobbing changes to a whine or moan. The screaming is done. In some ways, we really were over long ago. It's almost like I don't even know why I was here yesterday; why I was wearing that ridiculous thing in the first place. Anybody who speaks of that aloud is dead to me, though.
Given a few more minutes, some water, and a Valium, I calm down a bit. He holds up two dresses for me to choose from, and I gesture toward a sort of light blue one with a dark blue print, which he tosses to me, and I attempt to crawl into. Matt has to help even with this, after which we start heading downstairs. As we approach the hotel's dining room, I look at him, biting my lip and shaking my head.
“What?”
I shake more vigorously. “No.”
“We have to go. They're expecting us.”
“I... I can't.”
Soon I begin pacing in circles and breathing quickly. He doesn't know what to do, and hugs me. My friends appear, quite suddenly, dressed and ready, putting me to shame.
“What's up?” Ursula asks.
“She needs a minute, I think. Want to stall her parents?” he asks her. “You know them best.”
“I certainly do,” she says, clearly dubious regarding the privilege.
“Thanks,” I hear him say as she leads Jasmine and Andrea to the dining room.
I simply enter the nearest bathroom and put some water on my face, staring at it in the mirror again, twisted and damaged by fright and disgust. Disappointment, more than anything, is what sickens it.
“I am not okay,” I tell him as he looks at me, then ask, “What have you got in your bag for that?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Come on, we partied together every night for two years. You took me to the clubs on my twenty-first, and taught me what's safe and what isn't. I know it's something.”
“I know it's something too,” he says, “But I couldn't tell you the exact balance...”
“Yeah?”
“Jasmine's exchange student gave it to me. He and I hit the clubs last weekend, and I can say pretty much beyond a reasonable doubt that it should lift your spirits. You'd have to promise to stay with us a few days though, for the aftershocks.”
“It's that strong?”
“Uh-huh.”
Very seriously, I look him in the eyes, take his hands and say, “That's what I need, today. Can you take me out like the old days? Erase a few years?”
Matthew smiles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”
He kisses me on the cheek, and a moment later a library card lays on the counter next to a cut-off pen-cap on the sink, as he locks the door. Next he produces a small bag of white granules. Carefully, using the corner of the card he removes two, small identical mounds of delicate, razor sharp snow and places them on the edge of the counter. Chopping them and crushing them into perfect powder, he manipulates the card in like a champion poker shark showing off shuffling, before stretching them carefully into the lines we needed.
That is exactly what I remember. I almost want to mess it up so I can do it again myself, but it's a beautiful job. “Very nice.”
“Ladies first,” he says, handing me the cap.
“No, no. I want to watch the master first,” I say, faking a smile.
He smiles back, taking the signal. Pressing the cap to his nose he finishes his line clean, in one go, apparently unfazed, then hands it back to me. Incredible. I still have no idea how he does that. This is going to suck.
Deep breaths help me calm myself first, and I kneel before the mirror. My shoulders are visible, and above. As I place the beveled, cut edge of the cap into my nostril, I bend down and place it at the edge of the sink at the start of my line. Another powerful, deep inhalation draws in every grain.
“FUCK!!” I yell aloud. I feel as though my nostril has just had an amateur lesson in sword swallowing, but I know how worth it this is going to be; I know how much it will help.
“Yeah, this isn't you at your best. Can we make it through breakfast?”
“What else would we do?” I ask.
“I don't know. You're sick,” he muses, neatly packing his little kit back up.
“You think she'll understand?”
“If you're sick enough.”
“You think she won't just come in and find me, get all up in my face, and pretend like she's helping?”
“No, no. You're right, of course. She's your mother. We'll get rid of them as fast as we can and go find some fun, then.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, holding onto his arm, as things begin kicking in.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Doesn't matter,” I tell him.
- - -
“What was in that stuff?” Ursula demands of Matthew.
“I really don't know. Nothing we couldn't handle. Ask your lodger.”
“I will,” she says, “When he gets back, that is.”
“Has anybody seen him this morning?” Jasmine asks. “I'm starting to worry. He's not in his room, and that isn't like him.”
Everyone shakes their head but me. I simply don't know who we're talking about. I don't remember much of breakfast either. I remember what my mother said to end it, but the rest is still blurry.
- - -
There were all are, sitting round the table. All eight of us. My parents, my sister, my friends and I. The only ones who didn't leave in a rush the night before. Everyone scatters when happiness detonates like that. Nobody wants to get caught in the blast, lest it contaminate their own, so they're all just running as fast as they can now, trying to outrun the fallout.
I can't hear all of the conversation, but bits of it sink through. My mother was just being herself when Ursula jumped to my defense. Mom yelled at her outright, “You know Ursula, you may be Christiana's god-mother, but you're still basically a child. What could you possibly know about marriage?”
“I'm thirty-six,” she tells my mother, “And I've been married twice.”
My mother scoffs, and says, “Twice, exactly,” then she says it. She turns to me and speaks. “I just don't understand. How could this have happened so suddenly? We know he wouldn't do it just like that. There must have been some signs that you're not telling us about.”
...And that's it. Like the moment when a viola is tightened too far and it must decide whether to break the string, or the neck. Unwilling to give her my neck again – quite sick of buying new instruments in fact – I just reach out, and toss her mimosa in her face. Then mine. Then my sister's. My father attempts to finish his quickly, but I snatch it from him, spilling a little of it on her before dropping the glass and breaking it. Standing in my place, I hold my ground, eyes on fire.
Stunned silence hangs in the room like a cloud; over our table and every other. She stands, slaps me hard in the face and turns. As she does, my sister, stands and follows her.
My father stands, looks me in the eye and says, “I'm really, really sorry about what happened.” He pauses. “I am, but you shouldn't have done that.” Then he follows her as well.
Moments later a waiter comes over to help clean up the mess, accompanied by a higher ranked member of the hotel staff, who very politely asks us to leave. I can only assume his demeanor is so civil because he knows what happened last night. My friends apologize for me and usher me away from the disaster area, promising to gather my things and handle the bill when I'm in a state to do so.
“What just happened?” I ask Ursula, “Did I really just do that?”
“I'm afraid so,” she tells me. “Sorry.”
“No. No, it's fine. I'm just asking.”
“Good. Because that's a thing that happened,” she says. “You want to stay with us for a while?”
“I guess,” I say, looking over to Matt and acknowledging him with a wink. “It's not like I was ever going to stay with them anyway.”
“Okay. Glad that's settled. Where to?”
“I have an idea,” Matt says.
Looking to him again with trust in my eyes, I say, “Lead on.” The group of us head toward the exit, watched by the staff. Nearly the second we leave, I'm knocked flat on my back, and find myself looking straight at the sky, wondering what in the bleeding hell is going on. Once again, I make eye contact with a friend. “What the hell?”
“Oh, shit,” Ursula says, “Are you okay, sweetie? Come on, let me help.”
I'm fine, just dazed. A little breathless, but mostly just wanting for answers. “What happened. Was that a cyclist. And was she naked?”
“Is that today?” Ursula asks.
Moments later, at least a hundred more bicycles tear around the corner, most of the riders completely naked. A few had underwear on, and some were painted, but a swarm of curves, breasts, dicks and asses flew by us in a storm of exposed flesh and spinning gears.
Ursula and Jasmine help me to my feet and I take in the sight fully. It's really something to see every year. I'd completely forgotten about it this time around, for fairly obvious reasons. I haven't ridden in it since college, but at least now I have another story from the naked bike race.
- - -
“And that's as much as I remember too,” Matt tells us. “Sorry I can't help that much. I must be having the same problem you are,” he says, looking at me.
“Don't worry about it,” I tell him, behind another forced half-smile. “I think you've done enough just by getting me to this point.”
“Hey.”
“No, I mean it. Thanks. I said like the old days, and that wasn't unlike the old days.”
“Baby, you have no idea,” Ursula teases. “You and Matthew were already stumbling a bit. You I could understand. You've had a really hard weekend, but at the time I didn't know what the hell happened to him.”
As she talks, more is starting to come back to me, but only in pieces. I remember leaving the hotel after breakfast. We were somewhere green and pretty. It was landscaped, with lots of bricks and sculptures. Must have been downtown somewhere. I can hear my father's words ringing in my ears 'Just breathe and focus. Retrace your steps.' Pff. Cops.
“How was I?”
“Well, you were still tired, so you laid down on a bench for a second while Jasmine and I went to get us all some coffee. Matthew and Andy stayed with you.”
“Thanks guys,” I say, winking at Matt, and nudging Andrea's unconscious body with my still shod foot.
“So you're on the bench when Andy gets distracted by a gentleman jogger-”
“He was a runner,” Matt interrupts strongly.
“And, clearly Matt was interested too.”
“Oh, you left me alone, passed out on a bench Matty? How sweet,” I say, a short moment before elbowing him lightly in the ribs and eliciting a groan.
“Not just alone, but face down with your skirt flipped up in the breeze with no panties. You're a good friend,” she says, semi-hostile irony dripping out of her voice like venom. Jasmine then elbows him in response to a subtle gesture from Ursula.
“What?” he asks, “Just me?”
Ursula shrugs. “Of course. Andrea's asleep.”
“I like the sound of this,” I say, with a dose of the same poison for Matt.
“You said you wanted to cut loose.”
“I did,” I admit, “And I meant it. One hundred percent.”
“Good, because we did. Anyway, you got really embarrassed after a couple of guys saw you, but Matthew sat with you, and cuddled a bit. Made you feel better.”
“Aww... Matty. Thanks. Least you could do after leaving me there to make a fool of myself. Jerk.”
Matt nods in appreciation. “Sorry. I was high. Which really does it explain some things... Like this headache, and the general ominousness about this day.”
“I hear you,” I say.
“Ominousness?” Jasmine asks.
“Yeah, like what we can't remember, we maybe don't want to remember.”
“What?”
“You know, like a night out at the club when you lost your wallet, or some shit. You gotta find it, figure out what happened, but you know you're not going to like all the answers.”
“Not sure I've ever had a night quite like that...” someone mutters from behind as the door closes.
“Then you gotta live more, Jack.”
“It's Giacomo!”
“Be nice, Matt.” Ursula raps him on the back of his hand with the closest object, which happens to be a ruler. I laugh.
“Sorry, Giacomo.”
“No problem,” he says cheerfully in a somewhat mixed European accent, but his tone changes almost immediately. “I'll be in my room. If any of you want to apologize, I'll listen later. Right now I'm having a nap, assholes.”
“Sor-” Ursula is cut off by the slamming of his bedroom door. “What the hell was that about?” she asks.
We all shrug.
“Maybe Andy knows something,” Matt says.
“Yeah... Sorry.” Jasmine says, “I hope nobody fucked him last night,”
“Maybe that's the problem,” Matt jokes.
Ursula says, “I for one would like to know what's wrong.”
“I would too,” I tell her, “But I don't think he's talking right now.”
“Yeah,” she says, “You're right.”
Sighing, Ursula continues, “So, Matt dragged you by the panties back to the land of the living, and got you up off the bench. You really don't remember any of this?” she asks.
“Only bits and pieces.”
“Well, we'd already run afoul of the naked bike race. Matt got knocked down twice, but we didn't care as much as when you did.”
“That explains these bruises,” he says, rubbing his ass.
Details are rushing back to me like a flash flood in the desert. Nowhere to run, I just try to face them down as they overwhelm me. Statues. Sculpture. Beautiful stone arches.
Bewildered, I ask, “Did I want to go, or did we just end up there?”
“Oh, you wanted to go, alright. After Matt mentioned the idea.”
“Don't tell me...” I say.
“Yep,” Ursula smiles.
“It was... seriously?”
“Uh-huh,” Jasmine nods as though the recently passed afternoon holds awkward moments, even to her. What could we have possibly gotten up to that would embarrass her?
“Wait...” I begin, my voice trailing into the distance. With a rush of blood and anxiety straight to my face, and... other parts, I try to penetrate the wall of fog still between me and truly clear memory.
“Just take another sip of your coffee, sweetie. Breathe. It'll come to you,” Ursula says.
I shut my eyes as everyone stops silent at the swift suggestion of Ursula's hand. Quietly, I take her advice.
“Just breathe and focus,” she says again.
Pff... Therapists.
- - -
We're outside the fucking art museum. I'm standing in the grand stone archway which forms the outside door of the front security gate. A young woman is working the admission booth, looking very awkward, as she casts her glance about the open, round chamber. Despite the obscuring mist which shields the events of the day, I can clearly see the tiled stone floors, the gorgeous Ionian pillars which support the museums forward dome, everything. While there are only a few people in the main lobby, each and every one of them is... seriously underdressed. I love it.
An installation currently hangs from the center point of its converging arches. Like an enormous spider's web full of... cowboys? Yep, screaming cowboys. I laugh; I can almost see his face on one of the dummies. Sewn together like Raggedy-Annes they dangle, helpless, waiting to be rescued by the girl of their dreams. Glaring upward into his button eyes and failing to aid him now that he needs me. I smirk. “Doesn't feel very good, does it?” I mutter internally to the fresh wound of our engagement; the words echoing in my thoughts, stabbing back at me even as I think them.
The demure young lady in front of me looks us up and down. All five of us together have wandered into her midst; a troublesome horde. “Welcome,” she says, “I'm sure it's obvious that today is a bit of an event for us.”
“Clearly,” I answer her, impressed by the scene surrounding me.
“Yeah,” says Matthew, “What's goin' on with all this?”
Obviously used to giving the speech by now, but still getting used to everything, she answered him, “Well, in honor of the city's annual bike ride and annual run, twice a year we open the museum at a lowered cost of admission, and today is one of those days. You get in either for the regular price – ten dollars – or one dollar for each article of clothing you're wearing,” she smiled as she spoke, and quickly added, “Not counting footwear.”
Waiting for a response, I look around the group.
“Okay, count me in,” Jasmine says in obvious surprise. “That sounds awesome.”
“Seriously? I can't believe you've never been,” Ursula tells her.
“Is this really a thing? Is this really happening?” her girlfriend asks.
The girl working the booth interrupts, “Just for a couple of years now, but it's been a hit,” she giggles, “Certainly seems like it's here to stay.”
“Well, that's a relief,” somebody jokes, passing by in adorable lacy panties.
“So, regular admission?” she asks us.
I glance back to the others, and we all look to one another. Ursula is the first to speak. “I think we'll be back in a few minutes.”
“Obviously,” we concur haphazardly, and with that, the whole lot of us tumble out the door in a giggling mass.
- - -
My eyes open again, and I find myself surrounded by friends at the kitchen table, a hundred miles away.
“And then?” I ask.
“Well, this is where I start getting a bit fuzzy too...” Ursula says, “I know we made it back to the car at the hotel, and that's where we left our clothes.”
“Okay.
He left me.
An instant, a flash, a horrifying blast of anguish. He was just... gone. Absent. Vanished. All the air left with him when he went. Standing in a vacuum, I'm choking on emptiness, trying to find my phone in pockets that don't exist. Out of nowhere, and without transition, I find myself sitting on the floor, cornered by nobody. Hugging my knees only wraps me in the no longer comforting folds of my snowy white dress, quickly soaking and spilling with an ocean of tears. Lashed tightly together by ropes of my own limbs and hair, I just quiver and shake pathetically, a tangled mess. Sobbing in a spiral of sorrow, cackling in a cacophony of catastrophe; and utterly unpitiable.
I'm staying here until this dress turns black. This is too much. Indignity and humiliation unchained like ravenous spectators hungry for bloodsport. In a strange way, I know that's who is really waiting for me tomorrow. Those who haven't disappeared, anyway.
Frozen to the warm wooden floor, I cannot even move but to whimper and sob my sorrows in to the silence of the room. I don't know where he is. How long he's been gone. Why I'm still alone in this room. Where a single friend might be. A moment of peak tension is arrived, and I cannot stand it. Everything has reached its boiling point and I scream. Open my mouth and just scream right out loud. Neck craned back, head toward the moon, straight through the roof, I crack the sky with my howl.
In time, the chaos settles like storm clouds into fog. I can breathe again. When the scream fades I still can't see. All I can do is feel.
“I hate myself,” the words ring aloud. “I hate him,” these escape my lips more quietly but speak more truly. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this...” then the muttering simply takes me away...
- - -
This bed is soft. Cool, too. The window is open. I don't remember opening it. My head hurts and I'm dizzy. White walls pulse rhythmically like the veins that line my fragile skull. 'How?' My constant refrain, echoing softly in the cavernous hole he has left in my mind. Repeating my words inside myself, I am barely able to stir beneath the covers, let alone pull them back. I'm seriously considering peeing right here. Right now. At this very moment. No... I'm sure my companion in bed would object to that...
Wait, what?!
Frantic, confused, alarmed, a bit aroused, I whip my head to the side in the hopes of identifying the quiet source of warmth lying next to me. Sharp movement was the wrong choice. Blurriness and nausea black out my vision, so I throw off the covers and run blindly for the bathroom. By the time I arrive I'm okay again, or closer to. Not going back to my room though; not looking that man in the eye. Not right now, anyway.
Breathlessly sauntering toward the kitchen, the morning starts tormenting me further. It's harsh, but sultry, like well blown smoke rings breaking against my face. Heavily, I sit in the least wobbly chair at the table. Within only moments, Jasmine enters the room. She says nothing as she passes by the nook to the kitchen.
A soft warmth kisses my arm tenderly, sunlight seductively slipping through the pale, sheer kitchen curtains. Each breath of late summer breeze tosses the lacy fabric aside, calming the acidic gnawing inside me, but only slightly. As Jasmine holds herself over the stove, boiling water, she slumps slightly, supporting herself with both palms and gazing downward. Last night is clearly exacting a severe toll on her.
Silently reminding myself of soothing mantras and massaging circles around my temples, I close my eyes and try to make some sense of my bruises. No answers are apparent though, even in the pleasant shade of my eyelids. In fact, the darkness behind them seethes and swirls, threatening to make me sick, and they snap open instinctively.
Sitting across the table from me now, Jasmine pushes a cup of seared, blackened sludge toward me, unconcerned that it sloshed what genuinely appeared to be liquified tar onto the unsoiled floral print of her new table cloth.
“Coffee?” she asks.
“It looks caustic,” I tell her.
Cautiously, I sniff it, and confirm my assessment, but take a sip. I can't taste anything, or feel anything, at first...
Ow! Fuck! Fucking HOT. Vile. Black coffee. Grounds. Bad bourbon... and... what is that? The face-twisting, twinned burn of alcohol and near-boiling liquid falls from my mouth, scalding my face, slightly. “Ow.”
“You know, I think you may have gotten mine,” Jasmine says.
“You think?”
“Hey, I said I was sorry.”
“Actually, you didn't,” Andrea's voice comes from behind us as she exits the bathroom clad only in a towel, and a massive, thick cloud of steam.
“Hey Andy,” Jasmine says.
“Hey,” she says.
As we switch our coffees back, she raises her cup and says, “Happy now?”
“I don't even want to know what's in there. Yes.”
“I think the secret ingredient you're trying to identify is tequila.” Identifying the look on my face as disgust, she tries to defend herself by saying, “We ran out of whiskey halfway through my pour.”
“Stop,” I say. “Whatever. We have something more important to discuss.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, the suspense building.
My heart is starting to pound. “Well...”
Another voice from around the corner blearily speaks up, as Ursula emerges from the hallway, “Like what the hell happened last night?” Enthusiastic sarcasm penetrates a wide, grinning yawn.
“Oh...” Jasmine elongated the syllable knowingly, tauntingly, teasingly.
“Just shut up and enlighten me.”
“Enlighten you? Aren't you shiny and awake this morning?”
“What... happened?” I ask again, losing my patience, unconsciously massaging one temple far more vigorously than the other, and in larger circles.
“Oh, yeah,” she starts, “I have no idea. None whatsoever,” she ends with a grin.
“Are you kidding me?!” I exclaim at her, half amused, half furious.
“I'm totally serious. Ursula?”
“Clueless. Matthew?”
Standing behind me now is the last of their roommates, and one of my best friends. “Nope, must have been a hell of a party, though."
“Matthew!” I stand and wrap my arms around him. I'm really pleased to see him, even though his too-short flower print silk kimono is hanging a little too far open.
“I definitely remember breakfast...” Ursula's voice comes from behind me, trailing off a bit. “Well into the afternoon. Yeah...”
“Right,” Jasmine remembers, “Mimosas at breakfast.”
What?
Everything stops inside me. Breakfast? “I need everyone to back up for a second. Breakfast? You mean the meal we're all about to have? No. Wait. Where's my parents? Where's the hotel?”
The room stops now. Everybody is quiet, then silent. They are all looking at me, and I can hear them blinking. Like in a cartoon. That could just be the hangover though. Andrea is the first to react. Swiftly, silently, she passes out. Silently until she hits the floor of course.
Ursula speaks, “Well, that happened.”
“Huh.”
“So,” Jasmine pipes up, “You're a day behind the rest of us. This should be fun.”
Ursula elbows Jasmine in the ribs and kisses her full on the lips, taking her breath away. “Be nice, honey. What's the last thing you do remember clearly?” she asks me.
After I fill them in it becomes clear that I'm about thirty hours out of touch with the world. Only the haziest, darkest blurs of memory are available to me. Really meaningless stuff. “I'm here. I'm not getting married. That's pretty much what I remember.”
“Maybe we overdid it...” Matt says.
“Maybe?” Ursula asks sarcastically.
“No. I trust you guys. I'm sure I needed it. Just remind me what happened.”
After a long, continued awkward pause I demand, “Who wants to start?”
“I guess I'll go,” Matthew says. “I honestly don't remember that much either, but I'm solid until the end of breakfast I think.”
“Definitely go first,” Jasmine says to Matt, while looking to Ursula and nodding. “You're the only who knows what went down in that bathroom.”
“Well, that's probably true,” he says.
“We did a bunch of drugs,” I tell them.
“Pretty much...”
“You remember?” Jasmine asks.
“She doesn't have to.”
“No I do not.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because if it's something sketchy that was done in a bathroom with Matt, it was a bunch of drugs. I lack the necessary equipment for anything else.” The ladies opposite the table from us giggle as I say that.
“Sure you do...” As they speak, I get the impression they're mocking one of us.
“Well, it wasn't much. It was something your student gave me, Professor,” he says to Jasmine sarcastically. “Yeah we overdid it, but in a good way.”
“You are such a douche,” Ursula says.
“No, it's okay, I'm remembering a bit. He woke me up, and other than the fact that it was... embarrassing, that was great because he saved me from my mother interrupting me like that later.”
Glaring at me in awe, mouth agape a long moment, Matty finally says, “You'd have still been going at it like that by the time she came looking for you?”
“What? Emotional trauma makes me horny. What do you want me to do about it? No need need to make fun of me.”
“No, you're right, I didn't mean to do that at all. I withdraw my statement,” he says.
“...Anyway, I wasn't doing well, and I told him I needed a pick me up. Coffee wasn't doin' it, so he showed me a little surprise and said 'guess what'. I mean, it's been a long time, but it's a special occasion, so I figured what the hell, right?”
“That explains breakfast,” says Ursula, clapping her hands together in amusement, “Oh damn, girl. I wondered why you just weren't having any of your mother's... anything. Now's probably a good time to mention that here is as good a place as any to stay for a while.”
“Thanks...” I say, closing my eyes.
“Can you remember anything else?”
“Maybe...” I strain through the fog, and the earth splitting hangover.
“Try to build on those details,” Ursula says, “Don't think about what's next, just allow it to surface, if it's there. Sip your coffee.”
“Alright,” I say, relaxing.
As I close my eyes to dim the morning, slowly everything fades away, quiet. Very gradually an image or a detail flashes in the dark. Something in the smell of the coffee is bringing a memory, and in the dimmest reaches of my mind, it does begin to unfold...
- - -
Sun glaring in the window of the suite is the first thing I remember, along with my fingers, strumming over my slippery clit. My things are wet. The fabric between my legs is soaked. Erotic tears are streaming down my face, hot enough to burn while I work, and I work furiously. Passionately, I grind against myself. A finger inside now, I raise my hips off the bed. The rest continue their work as it begins its task inside me.
As the first finger curls within, another embeds itself into me. I scream, as yet another orgasm takes me. All night like this, I haven't been able to stop. My dress is drenched and so am I. Fuck! Liquid fire continues to fall from my eyes, and surges briefly onto my hand as well. Crying out again, I brush my clit, holding the scream as pleasure as long as I can, keeping the tears of sorrow at bay only with more powerful ones. The screams are laughter and sobbing at once, the orgasm a wave rising and falling, working toward a massive crest.
I reach it, bellowing with sexual prowess, three fingers buried inside me, my other hand playing with my nipple, working my breasts like he used to fail at. Just as I fall, nearly the moment the blackness of despair wraps its wings around me again the door opens without warning.
“Whoa! Sorry to interrupt... That.”
“What the hell, Matthew?” I yell, hysterically.
“Didn't you hear me knocking? Asking if you were okay?”
Pausing, I say, “I guess not,” before drifting mostly back to an unconscious state.
“Well, I hate to disturb you, but your family is on their way.”
Totally unable to process, I ignore him, moaning less than gibberish in the face of this important news, and rolling to face the pillow.
He waits. A moment, then another.
Snapping out of it for a moment, I sit up like a bolt of lightning, and manage to exclaim as though I'm properly aware, “Shit! Thank you, Matty.”
“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up a little.”
“Cleaned up?” I ask, in fact still delirious.
“Yeah. You can't wear that. You're sort of a mess, honestly.”
“Ouch.”
“I know, but seriously. Look.”
I stand, and look at myself the standing mirror in the corner of the room. “Who's that?” I ask, not nearly as ironically as Matt thinks. I step closer and examine her, “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I can't go to breakfast like this.”
“Not with your father.”
“Not with my mother.”
“Regardless...” he says.
“Fine,” I say, “Help me.”
“What?”
“Isn't this what friends are for the day after your failed wedding? Please.”
“...Convincing.”
“Thank you...” I say so quietly he almost can't hear.
The next moments are long and awkward. He helps me out of my dress; a somewhat involved process. Fortunately he was the one who helped me into it.
“You really did a number on this thing,” he says, examining the dress as he helps me out of it.
“Would you believe me if I said I fell down some stairs?” I ask, trying to laugh and failing spectacularly. Failing with a few tears.
“Oh, it's okay. I'm sorry, honey. I was just thinking and it happened out loud. Come on, we'll get you ready,” he says.
I'm naked now. And tired. Just so tired still. Matt walks me to the bathroom, and helps me into the shower, where I sit on the large seat. Freakin' honeymoon suite. Not even my style. His hotel, his idea. His fucking breakfast we're going downstairs to. That's it. Enough.
A scream. A loud one. I think it came from me. I catch her in the mirror again. She's crying again. No, it's definitely me. Damn. I'm properly awake. Yep. This is my life. I'm wet now. He's turned on the shower...
“You didn't want to ask if I'm alright after that scream?”
He just looks at me for a moment, as if extremely puzzled, then says, “Of course you're not alright.”
- - -
“...And that's the last thing I can remember for a little while, I think,” I tell them. I do not share every detail with them as it appears, but instead lead them to tell me some of it. It is blurry, but more than that, I expect I won't want them all to know some of the parts they weren't there for.
“Well,” Matt says, “I excused myself once you discovered the shower-head and decided it was a good idea.”
Damn.
“Well, eventually you both came downstairs for breakfast.”
“Yeah. She put on a more appropriate dress and came down, but she wasn't doing too good,” says Matt, stroking my back comfortingly, and maybe a little mockingly. I can never tell with him.
He's right though, I really wasn't...
- - -
I can barely hold my head up, as Matt towels me off. Once dry I just hug him and cry for a while. “What's wrong with me?”
“I think the better question is 'what's wrong with him?' He's the screwed up one in this scenario. Plain, simple; cut, dry.” He hugs me.
“Matty...” I say, holding my friend as tightly as ever I have.
“Hey...” he says, stroking my hair, and holding me too. “It's alright.”
We stay like that a while. Periodically my quiet sobbing changes to a whine or moan. The screaming is done. In some ways, we really were over long ago. It's almost like I don't even know why I was here yesterday; why I was wearing that ridiculous thing in the first place. Anybody who speaks of that aloud is dead to me, though.
Given a few more minutes, some water, and a Valium, I calm down a bit. He holds up two dresses for me to choose from, and I gesture toward a sort of light blue one with a dark blue print, which he tosses to me, and I attempt to crawl into. Matt has to help even with this, after which we start heading downstairs. As we approach the hotel's dining room, I look at him, biting my lip and shaking my head.
“What?”
I shake more vigorously. “No.”
“We have to go. They're expecting us.”
“I... I can't.”
Soon I begin pacing in circles and breathing quickly. He doesn't know what to do, and hugs me. My friends appear, quite suddenly, dressed and ready, putting me to shame.
“What's up?” Ursula asks.
“She needs a minute, I think. Want to stall her parents?” he asks her. “You know them best.”
“I certainly do,” she says, clearly dubious regarding the privilege.
“Thanks,” I hear him say as she leads Jasmine and Andrea to the dining room.
I simply enter the nearest bathroom and put some water on my face, staring at it in the mirror again, twisted and damaged by fright and disgust. Disappointment, more than anything, is what sickens it.
“I am not okay,” I tell him as he looks at me, then ask, “What have you got in your bag for that?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Come on, we partied together every night for two years. You took me to the clubs on my twenty-first, and taught me what's safe and what isn't. I know it's something.”
“I know it's something too,” he says, “But I couldn't tell you the exact balance...”
“Yeah?”
“Jasmine's exchange student gave it to me. He and I hit the clubs last weekend, and I can say pretty much beyond a reasonable doubt that it should lift your spirits. You'd have to promise to stay with us a few days though, for the aftershocks.”
“It's that strong?”
“Uh-huh.”
Very seriously, I look him in the eyes, take his hands and say, “That's what I need, today. Can you take me out like the old days? Erase a few years?”
Matthew smiles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”
He kisses me on the cheek, and a moment later a library card lays on the counter next to a cut-off pen-cap on the sink, as he locks the door. Next he produces a small bag of white granules. Carefully, using the corner of the card he removes two, small identical mounds of delicate, razor sharp snow and places them on the edge of the counter. Chopping them and crushing them into perfect powder, he manipulates the card in like a champion poker shark showing off shuffling, before stretching them carefully into the lines we needed.
That is exactly what I remember. I almost want to mess it up so I can do it again myself, but it's a beautiful job. “Very nice.”
“Ladies first,” he says, handing me the cap.
“No, no. I want to watch the master first,” I say, faking a smile.
He smiles back, taking the signal. Pressing the cap to his nose he finishes his line clean, in one go, apparently unfazed, then hands it back to me. Incredible. I still have no idea how he does that. This is going to suck.
Deep breaths help me calm myself first, and I kneel before the mirror. My shoulders are visible, and above. As I place the beveled, cut edge of the cap into my nostril, I bend down and place it at the edge of the sink at the start of my line. Another powerful, deep inhalation draws in every grain.
“FUCK!!” I yell aloud. I feel as though my nostril has just had an amateur lesson in sword swallowing, but I know how worth it this is going to be; I know how much it will help.
“Yeah, this isn't you at your best. Can we make it through breakfast?”
“What else would we do?” I ask.
“I don't know. You're sick,” he muses, neatly packing his little kit back up.
“You think she'll understand?”
“If you're sick enough.”
“You think she won't just come in and find me, get all up in my face, and pretend like she's helping?”
“No, no. You're right, of course. She's your mother. We'll get rid of them as fast as we can and go find some fun, then.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, holding onto his arm, as things begin kicking in.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Doesn't matter,” I tell him.
- - -
“What was in that stuff?” Ursula demands of Matthew.
“I really don't know. Nothing we couldn't handle. Ask your lodger.”
“I will,” she says, “When he gets back, that is.”
“Has anybody seen him this morning?” Jasmine asks. “I'm starting to worry. He's not in his room, and that isn't like him.”
Everyone shakes their head but me. I simply don't know who we're talking about. I don't remember much of breakfast either. I remember what my mother said to end it, but the rest is still blurry.
- - -
There were all are, sitting round the table. All eight of us. My parents, my sister, my friends and I. The only ones who didn't leave in a rush the night before. Everyone scatters when happiness detonates like that. Nobody wants to get caught in the blast, lest it contaminate their own, so they're all just running as fast as they can now, trying to outrun the fallout.
I can't hear all of the conversation, but bits of it sink through. My mother was just being herself when Ursula jumped to my defense. Mom yelled at her outright, “You know Ursula, you may be Christiana's god-mother, but you're still basically a child. What could you possibly know about marriage?”
“I'm thirty-six,” she tells my mother, “And I've been married twice.”
My mother scoffs, and says, “Twice, exactly,” then she says it. She turns to me and speaks. “I just don't understand. How could this have happened so suddenly? We know he wouldn't do it just like that. There must have been some signs that you're not telling us about.”
...And that's it. Like the moment when a viola is tightened too far and it must decide whether to break the string, or the neck. Unwilling to give her my neck again – quite sick of buying new instruments in fact – I just reach out, and toss her mimosa in her face. Then mine. Then my sister's. My father attempts to finish his quickly, but I snatch it from him, spilling a little of it on her before dropping the glass and breaking it. Standing in my place, I hold my ground, eyes on fire.
Stunned silence hangs in the room like a cloud; over our table and every other. She stands, slaps me hard in the face and turns. As she does, my sister, stands and follows her.
My father stands, looks me in the eye and says, “I'm really, really sorry about what happened.” He pauses. “I am, but you shouldn't have done that.” Then he follows her as well.
Moments later a waiter comes over to help clean up the mess, accompanied by a higher ranked member of the hotel staff, who very politely asks us to leave. I can only assume his demeanor is so civil because he knows what happened last night. My friends apologize for me and usher me away from the disaster area, promising to gather my things and handle the bill when I'm in a state to do so.
“What just happened?” I ask Ursula, “Did I really just do that?”
“I'm afraid so,” she tells me. “Sorry.”
“No. No, it's fine. I'm just asking.”
“Good. Because that's a thing that happened,” she says. “You want to stay with us for a while?”
“I guess,” I say, looking over to Matt and acknowledging him with a wink. “It's not like I was ever going to stay with them anyway.”
“Okay. Glad that's settled. Where to?”
“I have an idea,” Matt says.
Looking to him again with trust in my eyes, I say, “Lead on.” The group of us head toward the exit, watched by the staff. Nearly the second we leave, I'm knocked flat on my back, and find myself looking straight at the sky, wondering what in the bleeding hell is going on. Once again, I make eye contact with a friend. “What the hell?”
“Oh, shit,” Ursula says, “Are you okay, sweetie? Come on, let me help.”
I'm fine, just dazed. A little breathless, but mostly just wanting for answers. “What happened. Was that a cyclist. And was she naked?”
“Is that today?” Ursula asks.
Moments later, at least a hundred more bicycles tear around the corner, most of the riders completely naked. A few had underwear on, and some were painted, but a swarm of curves, breasts, dicks and asses flew by us in a storm of exposed flesh and spinning gears.
Ursula and Jasmine help me to my feet and I take in the sight fully. It's really something to see every year. I'd completely forgotten about it this time around, for fairly obvious reasons. I haven't ridden in it since college, but at least now I have another story from the naked bike race.
- - -
“And that's as much as I remember too,” Matt tells us. “Sorry I can't help that much. I must be having the same problem you are,” he says, looking at me.
“Don't worry about it,” I tell him, behind another forced half-smile. “I think you've done enough just by getting me to this point.”
“Hey.”
“No, I mean it. Thanks. I said like the old days, and that wasn't unlike the old days.”
“Baby, you have no idea,” Ursula teases. “You and Matthew were already stumbling a bit. You I could understand. You've had a really hard weekend, but at the time I didn't know what the hell happened to him.”
As she talks, more is starting to come back to me, but only in pieces. I remember leaving the hotel after breakfast. We were somewhere green and pretty. It was landscaped, with lots of bricks and sculptures. Must have been downtown somewhere. I can hear my father's words ringing in my ears 'Just breathe and focus. Retrace your steps.' Pff. Cops.
“How was I?”
“Well, you were still tired, so you laid down on a bench for a second while Jasmine and I went to get us all some coffee. Matthew and Andy stayed with you.”
“Thanks guys,” I say, winking at Matt, and nudging Andrea's unconscious body with my still shod foot.
“So you're on the bench when Andy gets distracted by a gentleman jogger-”
“He was a runner,” Matt interrupts strongly.
“And, clearly Matt was interested too.”
“Oh, you left me alone, passed out on a bench Matty? How sweet,” I say, a short moment before elbowing him lightly in the ribs and eliciting a groan.
“Not just alone, but face down with your skirt flipped up in the breeze with no panties. You're a good friend,” she says, semi-hostile irony dripping out of her voice like venom. Jasmine then elbows him in response to a subtle gesture from Ursula.
“What?” he asks, “Just me?”
Ursula shrugs. “Of course. Andrea's asleep.”
“I like the sound of this,” I say, with a dose of the same poison for Matt.
“You said you wanted to cut loose.”
“I did,” I admit, “And I meant it. One hundred percent.”
“Good, because we did. Anyway, you got really embarrassed after a couple of guys saw you, but Matthew sat with you, and cuddled a bit. Made you feel better.”
“Aww... Matty. Thanks. Least you could do after leaving me there to make a fool of myself. Jerk.”
Matt nods in appreciation. “Sorry. I was high. Which really does it explain some things... Like this headache, and the general ominousness about this day.”
“I hear you,” I say.
“Ominousness?” Jasmine asks.
“Yeah, like what we can't remember, we maybe don't want to remember.”
“What?”
“You know, like a night out at the club when you lost your wallet, or some shit. You gotta find it, figure out what happened, but you know you're not going to like all the answers.”
“Not sure I've ever had a night quite like that...” someone mutters from behind as the door closes.
“Then you gotta live more, Jack.”
“It's Giacomo!”
“Be nice, Matt.” Ursula raps him on the back of his hand with the closest object, which happens to be a ruler. I laugh.
“Sorry, Giacomo.”
“No problem,” he says cheerfully in a somewhat mixed European accent, but his tone changes almost immediately. “I'll be in my room. If any of you want to apologize, I'll listen later. Right now I'm having a nap, assholes.”
“Sor-” Ursula is cut off by the slamming of his bedroom door. “What the hell was that about?” she asks.
We all shrug.
“Maybe Andy knows something,” Matt says.
“Yeah... Sorry.” Jasmine says, “I hope nobody fucked him last night,”
“Maybe that's the problem,” Matt jokes.
Ursula says, “I for one would like to know what's wrong.”
“I would too,” I tell her, “But I don't think he's talking right now.”
“Yeah,” she says, “You're right.”
Sighing, Ursula continues, “So, Matt dragged you by the panties back to the land of the living, and got you up off the bench. You really don't remember any of this?” she asks.
“Only bits and pieces.”
“Well, we'd already run afoul of the naked bike race. Matt got knocked down twice, but we didn't care as much as when you did.”
“That explains these bruises,” he says, rubbing his ass.
Details are rushing back to me like a flash flood in the desert. Nowhere to run, I just try to face them down as they overwhelm me. Statues. Sculpture. Beautiful stone arches.
Bewildered, I ask, “Did I want to go, or did we just end up there?”
“Oh, you wanted to go, alright. After Matt mentioned the idea.”
“Don't tell me...” I say.
“Yep,” Ursula smiles.
“It was... seriously?”
“Uh-huh,” Jasmine nods as though the recently passed afternoon holds awkward moments, even to her. What could we have possibly gotten up to that would embarrass her?
“Wait...” I begin, my voice trailing into the distance. With a rush of blood and anxiety straight to my face, and... other parts, I try to penetrate the wall of fog still between me and truly clear memory.
“Just take another sip of your coffee, sweetie. Breathe. It'll come to you,” Ursula says.
I shut my eyes as everyone stops silent at the swift suggestion of Ursula's hand. Quietly, I take her advice.
“Just breathe and focus,” she says again.
Pff... Therapists.
- - -
We're outside the fucking art museum. I'm standing in the grand stone archway which forms the outside door of the front security gate. A young woman is working the admission booth, looking very awkward, as she casts her glance about the open, round chamber. Despite the obscuring mist which shields the events of the day, I can clearly see the tiled stone floors, the gorgeous Ionian pillars which support the museums forward dome, everything. While there are only a few people in the main lobby, each and every one of them is... seriously underdressed. I love it.
An installation currently hangs from the center point of its converging arches. Like an enormous spider's web full of... cowboys? Yep, screaming cowboys. I laugh; I can almost see his face on one of the dummies. Sewn together like Raggedy-Annes they dangle, helpless, waiting to be rescued by the girl of their dreams. Glaring upward into his button eyes and failing to aid him now that he needs me. I smirk. “Doesn't feel very good, does it?” I mutter internally to the fresh wound of our engagement; the words echoing in my thoughts, stabbing back at me even as I think them.
The demure young lady in front of me looks us up and down. All five of us together have wandered into her midst; a troublesome horde. “Welcome,” she says, “I'm sure it's obvious that today is a bit of an event for us.”
“Clearly,” I answer her, impressed by the scene surrounding me.
“Yeah,” says Matthew, “What's goin' on with all this?”
Obviously used to giving the speech by now, but still getting used to everything, she answered him, “Well, in honor of the city's annual bike ride and annual run, twice a year we open the museum at a lowered cost of admission, and today is one of those days. You get in either for the regular price – ten dollars – or one dollar for each article of clothing you're wearing,” she smiled as she spoke, and quickly added, “Not counting footwear.”
Waiting for a response, I look around the group.
“Okay, count me in,” Jasmine says in obvious surprise. “That sounds awesome.”
“Seriously? I can't believe you've never been,” Ursula tells her.
“Is this really a thing? Is this really happening?” her girlfriend asks.
The girl working the booth interrupts, “Just for a couple of years now, but it's been a hit,” she giggles, “Certainly seems like it's here to stay.”
“Well, that's a relief,” somebody jokes, passing by in adorable lacy panties.
“So, regular admission?” she asks us.
I glance back to the others, and we all look to one another. Ursula is the first to speak. “I think we'll be back in a few minutes.”
“Obviously,” we concur haphazardly, and with that, the whole lot of us tumble out the door in a giggling mass.
- - -
My eyes open again, and I find myself surrounded by friends at the kitchen table, a hundred miles away.
“And then?” I ask.
“Well, this is where I start getting a bit fuzzy too...” Ursula says, “I know we made it back to the car at the hotel, and that's where we left our clothes.”
“Okay.
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If that's all that happened- naked day at the art museum... I can deal with that.”
Everybody laughs, “Uh-huh.”
“What am I not remembering? What did I do?”I ask.
“Well, it's not so much what you did,” Jasmine alludes.
“Me?” Ursula asks.
“No, you're good, love.”
“Her?” I ask nodding toward Andrea, still passed out apparently peacefully on the floor.
“No.”
“It was him?” I gasp, looking at Matthew. “Seriously?”
“Yuh-huh,” Ursula says, “In all fairness though, he did get us all out of it too.”
“What did Matt do that was so bad?”
“Thanks,” he tells me, with an obvious lack of appreciation for the sentiment, “You said you wanted to have some fun like the old days, so I decided to let it go a little.”
“Well, what was it?”
“Don't look at me,” he says. “I don't remember a thing.”
“We all got into a bit of trouble, but you definitely were the most absurd yesterday, honey. At least in public,” Jasmine tells him.
“Oh, I like the sound of this,” I say.
“So, we got into another bottle back at the car, if anyone remembers,” Jasmine says, and I guess that rings some sort of a bell, “Not much. Just a couple of shots each. Everyone was pissed after breakfast. No offense,” she says to me now, “But your mom's a pretty heinous bitch.”
“No, you're right. She's kind of awful. What's wrong with her?” I yell in frustration, slamming my fist down on the table, slopping black coffee across the table again, revealing to everyone just how many grounds and how much general filth their cups contain.
“Who knows, honey, but that's probably a discussion for another time,” Ursula jokes, and I snort at her in annoyance, but laugh in approval and move on as she continues. “Anyway, we stripped down right there in the parking lot, and Jasmine gave your mom the finger as she and your dad drove away-”
“You gave my mom the naked finger?”
“Well, the topless finger.”
“Damn. I hope I gave you a topless hug.”
“You did more than that!”
I look to Ursula, who inhales through her teeth, looking askance at me, as though she can't say anything to help. “Sorry, Ursula,” I tell her.
“No worries. Looked like you both enjoyed it,” she says.
“What exactly was... it?”
After Ursula teases me with a lengthy pause, Jasmine interrupts her fun, “Oh it was just a snog. A good one, though.”
Even though I can feel my face turning more than one shade of red, I think I'm smiling.
“Are you smiling?” Ursula asks me.
“I guess I am. What happened next?”
“Well, once I got my panties off that same douche who kicked us out of the hotel came back and told us we couldn't leave the car. Matt got spouted off some legal mumbo-jumbo and a bunch of city-ordinances, and told him what for. He threw his hands in the air and went back inside once we left. Matt got a slap on the ass from each one of us as a reward.”
“Oh! I do remember that, actually. Every word of that was bullshit. He couldn't have reasonably called the cops on us, but he could definitely have had us towed.”
Laughter erupts around the room again. More coffee is spilled. Some splashes onto Andrea's back, and this is the first thing which causes her to stir significantly. She still does not wake, though, and our now redirected laughter continues a moment.
“You know what? This has been a good weekend. Going in I really wouldn't have thought so.”
“No, nor me. I'm glad you're doing however okay you are though,”Ursula says, “What else can you remember, sweetie?”
“I don't know. It's hard to focus.”
Jasmine stands behind me, massaging my shoulders and neck. “That feels wonderful,” I tell her, as I close my eyes. Ignoring the coffee I just sit and think a moment.
- - -
As my mind focuses, the story begins to unfold again, more or less in order. The pieces falling into one another, haphazardly striking against the edges of the last, slowly beginning to interlock as the wheels in my head turn again.
Adrift in a sea of bare skin and human beauty, I am immersed in the heat and glow of skin on naked atmosphere. The aura is so intense I can hardly see the art; can hardly hear the cowboys scream. The same girl is waiting for us at admission, still dressed and wearing now a wide grin.
“Nice to... see everyone again,” she flirts, and holds up her stamp. Matt extends his hand delicately and professionally, which she marks while concealing a slightly disappointed expression. “Who's next?”
Ursula steps forward, offering up one of her sizable breasts, which the young woman stamps just above her defined areola, smiling. Jasmine follows suit, holding her slightly smaller breast up for her. Andy is feeling less fun apparently, offering a calf, but she gives the whole room a pretty good show when she lifts her leg. Maybe that was her point. Now that it's my turn, I turn around, canting my body forward just enough for her to know where to put the ink.
She stamps me, smiling, and waves us through. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Ursula says, as we pass through the gate, all inebriated from breakfast, but two of us far more than the rest.
Giggling and sort of stumbling en mass we rove through the corridor, and out of the main foyer, away from the terrified, raggedy riders. In my state, I have no idea what exhibit may or may not be new, so I simply follow the horde.
It's incredible, really. A few people are dressed, but most people are at least shirtless and many are in less than that. It's everyone, of course, not just exactly the people I'd want to fuck. Quite a few people completely nude, just like us, too. No part of me feels uncomfortable, and I don't think I would if I were sober. This is a strange feeling, but I like it.
Everyone is so... Disarmed.
This place is familiar to me. I'm at home here. It's my ground, my strong terrain. Nevertheless, everything was stumbling downward, from here. Prowling downhill is still fun, though. Each room is an old friend, each floor and zone a different tone, in different shades. I know Ursula and Jasmine will want to head into the late Renaissance and impressionist rooms. Matt sees the same and tugs my arm, leading me with him.
“Catch up with you ladies,” he waves.
“No, we should stick together,” Ursula turns around.
“We'll be fine,” I say.
“Just a second,” Jasmine says.
“Okay...” Ursula says, “We'll be back in a minute. Downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
Downstairs is where they keep all the native art. I used to find that kind of frustrating and vaguely racist, until I realized that it's just because they can control the lighting to their whim in a windowless hole; something that's important for so much sculpture. Anyway, I love it down here. It's a veritable labyrinth of totems, masks, and statues on this end. Follow it far enough and you'll discover a garden of welded sculpture, with stairs to a cafe. I'm where I want to be, though. Black walls, low light, a seething swarm of nudity.
Smiling, I watch them intently while I clearly identify all the couples in the room. The hands casually resting on shoulders, the hugs from behind made intimate by virtue of dress- or lack of it. Seven single guys. Three I might fuck. What's the best way to go about it, now?
“I gotta piss,” Matt says.
Huh. “Alright. This way,” I tell him. Leading the way to the bathrooms, we pass a couple other guys I don't find unappealing. “Ladies, and gentleman,” I gesture.
“Matty...” I start, “Whatever you gave me, I'm feeling...”
“Are you alright?”he asks.
“Oh, fine. Good. Just a little... damp.”
He pauses awkwardly. “Oh.”
“It's difficult,” I choose the word intentionally, “not to notice that you're also a bit aroused.”
“Yeah. It's some strong stuff Giacomo gave me.”
I bite my lip. “Okay. I have to get away for a second. Are you going to manage for a minute?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I hug him and smile as his very firm cock collides with me briefly. Feeling the moisture intensify between my legs I adjourn to the men's room. For fun. Matt follows me to relieve himself, and I suggest, “Might be safer for you in the ladies' right now.”
He pauses, and looks at some of the men in the room around us, then says, “Right.”
- - -
The bathroom is warmer than the rest of the building. Now that I'm here I realize that I have to pee as well, so I find a stall. Several men notice me, but it's obvious that the rules have been suspended, given the rest of the day's proceedings. My phone comes out of my purse while I pee. Pictures of him on it. Strange to be doing what I like doing again. I hate this, but... It's good to be me again. It is, and being confronted by that so immediately, it's hard not to wonder...
I've been sitting here a while, but then, I'm pretty high. I laugh aloud at the notion. Wasted and naked in a museum. That really is the old me. Annoyed and frustrated, I shut off my phone and cram it back in my purse. Whatever Matt gave me is certainly doing its job, and then some.
With its own devious plans and intentions my hand crept smoothly between my thighs, nimbly deploying its fingers to the places they knew so well. There was something turning me on about being in the wrong room, too.
As I play gently with myself, I hear footsteps entering the room. Smiling, I softly kick the door of the stall open a bit further. He doesn't notice me, though, he's already turned to the urinal, hiding his penis from me. Like us though, he's gotten in for free. I don't know where Matthew is at. Probably offering makeup tips in the ladies' room, though.
As the young man drains himself, I watch, touching myself absently. Still, he doesn't notice me. I become more bold, inserting a finger into myself. So easily I slide in, mmm... Oh, yes, turn around. After a controlled shake he turns a maddening exact ninety degrees to the sink, and I still haven't caught his attention.
He washes his hands, then turns around the other direction and misses me entirely!
“HEY!” I yell at him, summoning his attention angrily.
He turns around on one heel, startled, and staggers backward into the wall, searching for the source of my voice.
“In here!” I yell.
Finding me in the last stall of the line, he finally discovers me with my legs splayed apart, fingers buried inside myself. “Whoa!”
“Hey,” I say, placing both feet back on the ground and standing up, “What's so interesting out there that isn't in here?”
“Umm...” he begins, but no words follow. His cock rises faster than I've ever seen one do before. I want it so bad. I just... do.
“Come on,” I encourage him, “I'm lonely. I was supposed to get married last night, and I didn't. Not even a little bit. Didn't get laid, either.”
He smiles, and his breathing drops back to normal. Closer to normal, anyway, it's like he feels more at ease, somehow, knowing I'm as vulnerable as him. I guess I could have seemed a bit like a jungle cat, stalking him, ready to pounce. Now he wants me a little too. Good.
“So what do you want with me?”
“I just have some frustration I need to work out,” I say. “I thought you might help me with that, a bit.”
To my surprise, he looks me in the eye, and says, “I'd love to. What can I do for you?”
I smile and take his hand. This is what I want. What I need. Fuck what the world wants; thinks I should want. “You want me?”
“Hell yes,” he says, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Good,” I tell him. “Show me.”
“Alright,” he says, taking me by the wrists.
He kisses me, walking me backward toward the wall. Before I know it, my arms are above me, pressed against the wall as he presses his into mine, continuing to kiss me. As we kiss, bodies melding nearly into one, he hardens fully, and it doesn't take long. Holding both of my wrists gently with one hand he roughly massages my breast as I take firm hold of his cock.
Stroking it toward me, I tighten my grip as my hand approaches, forming a ring with to fingers behind the glans as I tug. Whispering vibrations echo from his chest as he groans in pleasure. He kisses my neck, then bites. Yes, again. He does, then the other side. Slipping from his grasp I lead him by his prick to the stall I had been in, jerking him the whole way.
He follows willingly and grins wide as I reach into my bag, retrieving a square foil package. I say, “Are you up for it?”
He nods, and I drop to my knees for a moment, still holding his cock, guiding it into my mouth. My tongue glides in a careful spiral around the head of him. With ease, I engulf his shaft, swallowing the first half of it in one go. Salty, but not sweaty, he tastes good. Masculine and clean. I stay for a moment, playing with his balls and sucking.
A moment later, I stop a moment, tear the package with my teeth and roll the condom down his shaft. He stands me up and turns me around. I put both hands against the wall and let a chemical grin twist my face again as he pushes into me. He goes in easy and can feel that I'm ready for him, so he builds a rhythm quickly. Soon, he's fucking me hard, and takes hold of my hair.
“Mmm...” I moan, “Yeah, fuck me...”
He does, reaching under me, leaning over. He kisses my neck, biting. Nibbling my earlobe while he plunges deep inside me, harder faster. Everything he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm - almost the polar opposite of my... ex. Ex. Wow, this would be a terrible time to start crying. Okay... it feels good. I am enjoying myself. Focus on the pleasure, almost painful. Powerful, and oh yeah, induced.
Whatever. I'll take it. It feels amazing, actually, and the pain turns so easily to pleasure for me. Help me, come on. “Are you close?”
He groans, I can tell resisting, but says “Yes.”
“Mmmm... Good. Fuck me until you cum!”
It doesn't take long before he widens his stance a bit and takes hold of my hips, thrusting hard upward. Just naturally I play with myself as he does it, and I'm so close. As he fills the condom I start to constrict and squirm again, biting my lip, breathing hard.
He obviously needs a moment to sit, which I allow him without any words. I clean up a bit at the sink and and just head for the door, leaving him behind to recover. Never even caught his name. I laugh quietly at that.
I turn around the corner into an exhibit I don't know. There's what appear to be manuscripts, or designs? Drawings and... all kinds of interesting stuff. This is curious. Worth examining... It's in... not Latin. I have no idea what I'm looking at.
Oh damn. Yes I do. Kind of, anyway. What is happening out here? Matt. Where is Matt? There is a man, standing on a table, with two women at his feet, one stroking his naked body, the other giving an impassioned blowjob. He has an incredible ass. A silent crowd has formed; mostly women. Matthew is nowhere to be seen.
Not knowing what else to do, I text Ursula, 'Get down here'.
“We're right behind you,” Jasmine says, from about ten feet. They can see me, but not the scene in front of me, “What's up?”
“See for yourself.”
“Oh my God, that's Matt!” The words escape from Jasmine's lips almost instantly, at which Ursula and I look both puzzled and skeptical. “The ankle. Check the scar.”
“Holy-” Ursula turns around, her hand covering her mouth in hilarity and surprise, but she turns around again, momentarily.
I say nothing, just watching as he holds her head, sliding his cock down her throat and moaning almost in song. Matthew. My Matty, with them! Utter beauties, blonde and brunette, like sculptures that belonged two floors up. They switch, and the brunette slides all the way down his rod. He holds her there, running his fingers through her hair and she moans, touching herself.
Matthew summons a deep bellow of pleasure as he grows close, and cums. Ejaculating several times, I imagine him filling her mouth with sticky, hot jizz. Calling for more, the girls start sharing it, for show perhaps.
About then, two officers burst into the room from the stairwell and I thank God that neither one is my father. They seem as shocked to walk in on this as Ursula and I were to realize it was our Matt up there.
The girls share his load for the benefit of the audience. One officer is clearly impressed, the other is not, and begins shouting threats. One of the girls tries to convince them it was performance art. A brief exchange occurs, ending I think with the following statement: “Don't worry officer, it's performance art because I'm gay,” another string of fictional laws, along with Matt's and one of the girls' phone numbers for each cop.
All I can do is try to recognize them, see if my dad's going to hear about this. They talk a couple more minutes, and Matthew slips him something. He looks to all of us, and someone grabs my hand. The next thing I know, we're leaving the building, but not in handcuffs. Half a smile works over my face, warping one side of it upward.
- - -
“So... That's what happened at the art museum...” Matt says,
“Yes,”Jasmine says, “You decided to go home afterward and think about the things you do for 'art' and why you do them. A party didn't seem like what you needed.”
“No. Doesn't seem like what I needed,” Matt puts his head down on the table.
“Sorry, Matt.”
“No, I did what I did. Gotta take responsibility for that. Look, I got their phone numbers and everything,” he says, showing us, each with pictures of their... decorated faces.
“...Classy,” Jasmine says.
“So, party?” Ursula asks.
“What do you mean? It was your- Oh. Well you wouldn't remember, either, would you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Leaving the museum, you said something like 'I'll have a shot of whatever they're having', and Matt handed you something before he took off. I drove to the party by the way. I realize now because I'm the only one who wasn't high, but then, I'm a responsible adult.”
“Hey now, quit fighting. I think the more important thing is, what happened at this party?” I interrupt.
“Fine. We'll fight later.”
“We will?” Ursula asks, with irresistible eyes.
“We'll see.”
“So?”
“Well...”
- - -
“Where is this party, exactly?” I ask.
“Close to home.”
“Please, no,” I say, pretty sure that was the answer, passing the enormous, twisted white oak on the bend so familiar to me.
“Oh relax,” Ursula says, “She's going to be twenty miles away.”
“That wasn't my concern, but... Thanks,” I say, annoyed by the very notion of sharing myself with a bunch of jackasses around a keg right now.
The car was gliding smoothly over the pavement until suddenly it wasn't, when Jasmine veered onto rough gravel at Ursula's gesture. The road zigs and zags, jagged. Maybe half an hour, an hour down this road, we turn a corner and reach a small dirt parking lot. Three massive bonfires duel on the hill over us, surrounded by at least a hundred people. Lots of plaid, jeans, boots and hats. Just like home.
Jasmine makes an entrance, skidding to a halt, and sliding into place where. That was not cool. I am so dizzy now. The others disembark the monstrous vehicle but I stay a moment. “Ready?” Ursula asks me through the window.
“Sure,” I say, getting out, and leaning against the side of her truck.
“Jas and I are going to hook up with some of my old friends. Do you want to come?”
“Nah.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. Just going to find myself a drink and hang out for a bit,” I deceive her, “Have a good time.”
As soon as she's gone, I wander toward the bonfires. Glowing sparks dance on the wake of embers hurled skyward by three bonfires on the hillside. All told, my life so far, this is probably where I should be tonight instead of a honeymoon suite. That was his idea anyway. I'd have rather been outside tonight in the first place. Rolling hills, grand oak trees, a big, beautiful hay barn. Scarlet sundown turning fast to night the color of coal.
Suddenly, a tall silhouette stands in front of me, blocking what remains of the sun,“Howdy,” he says, holding two beers.
“Sup?” I ask, taking a beer.
“You look cold,” he tells me, eying my sundress in the fading light.
I smile back at him and say “Thanks,” for the beer as he hands it to me, and shrug as I tell him “I am a bit,” though only barely.
Removing his large, heavy jacket he hangs it off my shoulders like a cape. The sleeves dangle like wings almost to me knees, and his plaid clad chest is shown off a little better. I like it. He looks nice in the sunset, the cool breeze tossing his dark hair around in the wind just as far as it will go - which isn't far. Looks like a couple of days since he's shaved, and he smells like woodsmoke.
“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks casually.
“Yeah, alright,” I tell him, looking halfway away, “Where to?”
“Anywhere,” he says, offering me his arm, “How about the river?”
I take his arm and follow him silently, wondering how much interest he has in my words. For a moment I wonder how much interest I have in his, as I feel his firm arm hugged tightly under mine.
“Finally,” he says, cracking his beer and taking a sip.
“What?” I ask him, doing the same.
“Oh, nuthin'. I'm just glad to get away from all that smoke. I've been breathing it for two days.”
I lean my head on him as we walk, unable to smell anything but burnt oak. I'm still pretty out of it, but in a few minutes, we get down to the river bank. Seems like a little sub-party has migrated down here, between two hills where the water slows down. A few couples mostly secluded and a handful of random extras splashing about or laying out on the rocks in the dim scarlet light. The air here, between the two slopes is cooler, and I hug the shoulders of his jacket closer to me.
“Hey Luke!” One of the men in the water calls over to him.
“Marcus!” He calls back jovially, raising his beer, as we pass, more or less ignoring him.
Instead of stopping, we keep walking, sipping our beers. Moving along the river, I can see the bottom of it. Rocks. Round ones. Little bugs. Probably fish where there's a current. I take my head off of Luke's triceps for a moment and smell the world away from the smoke, and away from the smog. Clean. Breathing in, I feel the humidity of the river just cleaning me out; which is good, because I am wobbling on my feet.
After being quiet for a moment, Luke says tentatively “Can I ask you something?”
“Um... sure, I guess.”
“The hell are you walking in?” he chuckles at my gait.
“Shut up.” I tell him.
“Okay... Do you want to sit?
“Yeah, actually. That would be great,” I tell him, looking around.
“There's a good spot up around this next bend,” he smiles.
“Alright...” I follow him a few more yards.
A massive fallen tree is well grounded over the river, past the bend where it drops. Must be six feet wide at the base, and anyone on the tree would be above a deep pool, and have a clear view of the waterfall. “That is a good spot,” I say, with some quiet applause in my head.
“Yeah, she fell about two years back. One of my favorite places then, and now.”
“It's hard to notice there's no one else so old nearby,” I say, stepping tentatively onto it.
“It is,” he says, following me, “My granddaddy clear-cut the whole area fifty years ago.”
“With no offense to your family,” I tell him, “What an asshole.”
“None taken,” Luke says, finishing his beer, crushing his can instinctively and setting it down beside us as we sit.
As I attempt to do the same and succeed only marginally, conversation halts for a moment while I awkwardly crumple downward. The soft mossy bed beneath me is actually very comfortable. Comforting, even. Bright green, with flowers poking through it in places.
“So,” he says, “If you don't mind my askin', who brought you to this little shindig?”
“Not sure exactly. Might be crashing,” I tell him.
“Uh-oh.”
“I'm here with Jasmine and Ursula.”
“Alright then. No problem,” he says, looking a bit intimidated.
“Jas, or Ursula?”
I don't have to wait for a response, and we speak together, “Ursula.”
“What is it with her?” I ask him.
“You tell me. She's your friend.”
“Well, technically she's my god-mother, but I think she was about ten when I was born.”
“That's weird,” he says.
“Tell me about it. Really everything about her is weird.”
“I remember.”
“And don't even get me started on her girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Luke exclaims, “Damn! So, Ursula's not drivin' stick anymore...”
“Classy, bro,” I mock.
“Whatever,” he ignores me, “If you knew her like I did,”
“So, you know her pretty well?”
“Used to,” he says, “We grew up together.”
“Really? Tell me some stories?”
“Can I ask you something first?”
“Sure, I guess,” I tell him, pretty sure what's next.
“You seem...”
“Sad?”
“Well, yeah,” he says.
“I bet. Look, I don't really want to talk about it. Right now, I want to have a good night. I want to party, maybe drink some more..”
“Alright,” he says, a obviously a little disappointed.
“I know I'm being all mysterious. If it makes you feel any better, I might also want to get a little laid,” I redirect the attention where I want it, purposely leaving off the word 'again' from the end of my sentence.
“Subtle,” he says.
“Hey, I was supposed to be boarding a plane to leave for my honeymoon,” I grab his arm to look at the beat-up wristwatch it bears, “Eight minutes ago. What do you know?”
“Damn.”
“Uh-huh. Subtle isn't exactly my first priority.”
“I understand. Let's just relax and have some fun,” he says, and puts his arm around me.
“So that's what's going on with the shoes?”
“...Yeah,” I say looking away from him, “I just haven't taken them off yet. The dress came off this morning, but, they stay for a while...”
“I get it.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Can't wear a wedding dress just around, but you can wear those. I mean, they're a little dressy, but I think I understand it as best as someone like me can.”
“Someone like you?”
“Someone who's never made it past three months in a relationship.”
“How's that?”
“Not for lack of trying, I promise you.”
“Well, one day, I'm sure.”
“Yeah...” for a moment he is distant, but snaps back to me within a second or two, “So, what can we do to cheer you up?”
“Just...”
I don't say anything else, but kiss him instead. Words aren't really my thing. At least not today.
His hand on the back of my head, he kisses me back. Good. God, that's good. Please, again... Time slows and stretches each time we kiss until it stops.
The next thing I know I'm flat on my back in the moss, the river still beneath me. The last bit of sunset slips below the hills as he lifts my dress, and leans closer. Luke's breath is as hot and intense, pulsing on my thighs as the blood surging through my heart. Shivering in the cool of dusk I shake off every bit of intoxication in pure ecstatic focus. Gasping in a deep breath, I bite my lip to keep it as he kisses me. Oh... his tongue... If you asked me now I'd swear I couldn't forget this moment.
My heart racing, all I can do is arch my back and hold on for dear life. Every part of me is gripping him or the tree, and fuck...! His tongue knows its way around. He's not ignoring my clit, but he hasn't even touched it. Mmmm... how fucking far can it get inside me? I bite my lip hard as he penetrates me and nibbles on my clit with his upper lip.
Fuck, I'm still so sensitive. One hand crosses to my right breast and squeezes, while he uses his other to apply gentle, brazen pressure to my ass. He withdrew his tongue and kissed me, looking toward my eyes; but waited only a moment before pressing on, unprotested.
Every part of me is hungry for this. I need him on me. His tongue and hands caressing me, making me his, and making me scream are too much. Feral, wild in the night, he leans forward and slides into me, easily. Crying out into the dark, I'm cumming hard as he penetrates me. Whimpering, I relax enough to let him start, and in the heat of the moment we begin to fuck.
Sliding into me rapid-fire like a piston working overtime, he's hitting me just in the right spot, mmmm... fuck! Ah... I squeeze my nipple and play with my clit while he nails me to this tree. Oh fuck, oh no. Already? I'm cumming again! Where did that even come from? He pulls out, or rather is forced out of me, and looks into my eyes for a moment, both of us panting.
Fuck, I do not normally cum like that. I slip my hand between his arms and reach between his legs to hold his cock. I kiss him, holding my wrist and forearm to it as I massage his balls and the base of his shaft with the delicate tips of my fingers. Wrapping my thumb around him I stroke upward as I kiss him, seizing him by the back of the head, and leaning into him.
Without breaking our kiss I feel the sound of his moan on my tongue and delight in it. His cock is wet, slippery; and not just from me. He is so warm, so wet, mmm... I stroke him a few more times before leaning down, holding eye contact with him. Like a gentleman, he wants to pleasure me even as I'm taking him into his mouth. Less gentlemanly he slaps my ass on my way to push his finger against my anus again.
“Mmm... Careful with me,” I moan, “But not too careful.”
He smacks me again, and issues a gravelly moan of his own, grabbing a fistful of my hair,
“Again!” I say, before taking his cock back into my mouth.
Luke spanks me hard, and uses his hold on my hair to guide me down his shaft. Once I find a rhythm the spanking stops and he returns to what he knows I really want. His finger runs in little circles, relaxing me, opening me, then he pushes into my ass while I suck his cock. He holds my hair but relaxes his grip as he gently fucks me. Moaning, I can't help rubbing my stinging-sensitive clit.
Sucking hard at first, I swirl my tongue around him, then relax to take all of him into my throat, and swallow his entire cock, to its base. My lips firmly seal around him, dragging as I continue to pleasure him. I can tell he's nearing his limit, that getting me off was his fun. I'm getting close again too; this is too much. His finger in my ass, his cock in my mouth, my fingers working on my clit, mmm...
“MmmMMMMM....” I moan louder with is cock in my mouth.
“Oh fuck, yes! Mmmh!” Luke calls out as he starts emptying a thick load in my mouth. He takes almost a minute and several shots to finish, holding my head the whole time, while I cradle his balls and stroke his cock.
Moments after, when both of us are satisfactorily finished, I rest my head in his lap a moment, and he spreads his coat over me again. We rest that way a few seconds, and my eyes drift. A little while later, I find Ursula, Jasmine and Andrea standing over us.
“Oh, hey Ursula. Long time.”
“Lucas,” she says.
- - -
“And that was pretty much it,” Jasmine says.
“Not quite,” the last voice of our quintet joins us finally.
“Andy,” Ursula jokes, “Welcome back.”
“So, what did we get up to last night? What happened?” Matthew asks, “Anything awesome?”
“Hang on a minute,” Andy snaps at us looking back from the clock, “What's wrong with you people? I've been on that floor for over an hour.”
“Sorry...” I say, “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine. And in fairness I do deserve it, and worse, but so do all of you.”
“Why? What the fuck did we do?” Jasmine insists.
“Really? Nobody but me remembers?”
Another voice from behind me speaks and something inside me falls.
“I remember.”
Ursula says, “Luke! How did you get here?”
“I drove you from the party. Don't you remember?”
“I do. Kind of,” Jasmine says, “Though it's pretty much the last thing.”
“Well, we came back here, drank more, did some lines. Haven't done that since college. You people are bad influences,” Luke says, grinning, “That was the craziest party I've been to in a while,” Luke says, “Sucks about that guy though. Does he really have to leave the country?”
Stunned silence, again. “What?” comes from Jasmine as she drops the her cup and shatters it entirely this time.
“Yeah,” Andrea says, “We got loud last night. It got late and the neighbors called the cops. We all got too crazy on the front lawn, and they searched those of us who had clothes. Guess what they found on Giacomo. He's a foreign national, so they're not pressing charges, but they're giving him seventy-two hours to leave the country, and he lost his scholarship because he got arrested.”
“At least he got laid first,” Luke jokes.
“What?”
“Oh yeah,” Andrea says, “That was funny, Matt and Giacomo did have sex in the living room.”
“How many people did I have sex with yesterday?” Matt exclaims.
“I think that's it,” Jasmine says, unamused.
The room quickly deteriorates into disjointed chatter, everyone trying to decipher how this all happened to themselves, rather than the group.
Andrea looks over at me and says “Seriously Christi, have you taken those shoes off since we got back from...?” her voice bends rather abruptly into silence as she reaches the end of the question.
“No.”
“Why...?”
“Because they're pretty. Because I obviously can't still be wearing my dress, and because I never got a chance to put on my fucking ring.”
There's quiet again.
“Christi...” Ursula starts.
“No, you know what? I think I'd like to go for a while. You... all of you have some stuff to work out. I'm sorry,” I say, looking around the room, then head to mine and gather up my things quickly, along with what I assume is Luke's phone, and underwear.
Handing him his effects, I say to Luke, “Can I hitch with you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks,” I say. He follows me a few moments after I leave the house.
We climb into his truck, and as he fires up the engine, he asks, “Where to, exactly?”
I'm silent. I'm running from my friends. I wouldn't dream of going to my family at a time like this. My home is currently populated by my ex-fiance.
As the road stretches into highway, I admit, “I have no idea."
Everybody laughs, “Uh-huh.”
“What am I not remembering? What did I do?”I ask.
“Well, it's not so much what you did,” Jasmine alludes.
“Me?” Ursula asks.
“No, you're good, love.”
“Her?” I ask nodding toward Andrea, still passed out apparently peacefully on the floor.
“No.”
“It was him?” I gasp, looking at Matthew. “Seriously?”
“Yuh-huh,” Ursula says, “In all fairness though, he did get us all out of it too.”
“What did Matt do that was so bad?”
“Thanks,” he tells me, with an obvious lack of appreciation for the sentiment, “You said you wanted to have some fun like the old days, so I decided to let it go a little.”
“Well, what was it?”
“Don't look at me,” he says. “I don't remember a thing.”
“We all got into a bit of trouble, but you definitely were the most absurd yesterday, honey. At least in public,” Jasmine tells him.
“Oh, I like the sound of this,” I say.
“So, we got into another bottle back at the car, if anyone remembers,” Jasmine says, and I guess that rings some sort of a bell, “Not much. Just a couple of shots each. Everyone was pissed after breakfast. No offense,” she says to me now, “But your mom's a pretty heinous bitch.”
“No, you're right. She's kind of awful. What's wrong with her?” I yell in frustration, slamming my fist down on the table, slopping black coffee across the table again, revealing to everyone just how many grounds and how much general filth their cups contain.
“Who knows, honey, but that's probably a discussion for another time,” Ursula jokes, and I snort at her in annoyance, but laugh in approval and move on as she continues. “Anyway, we stripped down right there in the parking lot, and Jasmine gave your mom the finger as she and your dad drove away-”
“You gave my mom the naked finger?”
“Well, the topless finger.”
“Damn. I hope I gave you a topless hug.”
“You did more than that!”
I look to Ursula, who inhales through her teeth, looking askance at me, as though she can't say anything to help. “Sorry, Ursula,” I tell her.
“No worries. Looked like you both enjoyed it,” she says.
“What exactly was... it?”
After Ursula teases me with a lengthy pause, Jasmine interrupts her fun, “Oh it was just a snog. A good one, though.”
Even though I can feel my face turning more than one shade of red, I think I'm smiling.
“Are you smiling?” Ursula asks me.
“I guess I am. What happened next?”
“Well, once I got my panties off that same douche who kicked us out of the hotel came back and told us we couldn't leave the car. Matt got spouted off some legal mumbo-jumbo and a bunch of city-ordinances, and told him what for. He threw his hands in the air and went back inside once we left. Matt got a slap on the ass from each one of us as a reward.”
“Oh! I do remember that, actually. Every word of that was bullshit. He couldn't have reasonably called the cops on us, but he could definitely have had us towed.”
Laughter erupts around the room again. More coffee is spilled. Some splashes onto Andrea's back, and this is the first thing which causes her to stir significantly. She still does not wake, though, and our now redirected laughter continues a moment.
“You know what? This has been a good weekend. Going in I really wouldn't have thought so.”
“No, nor me. I'm glad you're doing however okay you are though,”Ursula says, “What else can you remember, sweetie?”
“I don't know. It's hard to focus.”
Jasmine stands behind me, massaging my shoulders and neck. “That feels wonderful,” I tell her, as I close my eyes. Ignoring the coffee I just sit and think a moment.
- - -
As my mind focuses, the story begins to unfold again, more or less in order. The pieces falling into one another, haphazardly striking against the edges of the last, slowly beginning to interlock as the wheels in my head turn again.
Adrift in a sea of bare skin and human beauty, I am immersed in the heat and glow of skin on naked atmosphere. The aura is so intense I can hardly see the art; can hardly hear the cowboys scream. The same girl is waiting for us at admission, still dressed and wearing now a wide grin.
“Nice to... see everyone again,” she flirts, and holds up her stamp. Matt extends his hand delicately and professionally, which she marks while concealing a slightly disappointed expression. “Who's next?”
Ursula steps forward, offering up one of her sizable breasts, which the young woman stamps just above her defined areola, smiling. Jasmine follows suit, holding her slightly smaller breast up for her. Andy is feeling less fun apparently, offering a calf, but she gives the whole room a pretty good show when she lifts her leg. Maybe that was her point. Now that it's my turn, I turn around, canting my body forward just enough for her to know where to put the ink.
She stamps me, smiling, and waves us through. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Ursula says, as we pass through the gate, all inebriated from breakfast, but two of us far more than the rest.
Giggling and sort of stumbling en mass we rove through the corridor, and out of the main foyer, away from the terrified, raggedy riders. In my state, I have no idea what exhibit may or may not be new, so I simply follow the horde.
It's incredible, really. A few people are dressed, but most people are at least shirtless and many are in less than that. It's everyone, of course, not just exactly the people I'd want to fuck. Quite a few people completely nude, just like us, too. No part of me feels uncomfortable, and I don't think I would if I were sober. This is a strange feeling, but I like it.
Everyone is so... Disarmed.
This place is familiar to me. I'm at home here. It's my ground, my strong terrain. Nevertheless, everything was stumbling downward, from here. Prowling downhill is still fun, though. Each room is an old friend, each floor and zone a different tone, in different shades. I know Ursula and Jasmine will want to head into the late Renaissance and impressionist rooms. Matt sees the same and tugs my arm, leading me with him.
“Catch up with you ladies,” he waves.
“No, we should stick together,” Ursula turns around.
“We'll be fine,” I say.
“Just a second,” Jasmine says.
“Okay...” Ursula says, “We'll be back in a minute. Downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
Downstairs is where they keep all the native art. I used to find that kind of frustrating and vaguely racist, until I realized that it's just because they can control the lighting to their whim in a windowless hole; something that's important for so much sculpture. Anyway, I love it down here. It's a veritable labyrinth of totems, masks, and statues on this end. Follow it far enough and you'll discover a garden of welded sculpture, with stairs to a cafe. I'm where I want to be, though. Black walls, low light, a seething swarm of nudity.
Smiling, I watch them intently while I clearly identify all the couples in the room. The hands casually resting on shoulders, the hugs from behind made intimate by virtue of dress- or lack of it. Seven single guys. Three I might fuck. What's the best way to go about it, now?
“I gotta piss,” Matt says.
Huh. “Alright. This way,” I tell him. Leading the way to the bathrooms, we pass a couple other guys I don't find unappealing. “Ladies, and gentleman,” I gesture.
“Matty...” I start, “Whatever you gave me, I'm feeling...”
“Are you alright?”he asks.
“Oh, fine. Good. Just a little... damp.”
He pauses awkwardly. “Oh.”
“It's difficult,” I choose the word intentionally, “not to notice that you're also a bit aroused.”
“Yeah. It's some strong stuff Giacomo gave me.”
I bite my lip. “Okay. I have to get away for a second. Are you going to manage for a minute?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I hug him and smile as his very firm cock collides with me briefly. Feeling the moisture intensify between my legs I adjourn to the men's room. For fun. Matt follows me to relieve himself, and I suggest, “Might be safer for you in the ladies' right now.”
He pauses, and looks at some of the men in the room around us, then says, “Right.”
- - -
The bathroom is warmer than the rest of the building. Now that I'm here I realize that I have to pee as well, so I find a stall. Several men notice me, but it's obvious that the rules have been suspended, given the rest of the day's proceedings. My phone comes out of my purse while I pee. Pictures of him on it. Strange to be doing what I like doing again. I hate this, but... It's good to be me again. It is, and being confronted by that so immediately, it's hard not to wonder...
I've been sitting here a while, but then, I'm pretty high. I laugh aloud at the notion. Wasted and naked in a museum. That really is the old me. Annoyed and frustrated, I shut off my phone and cram it back in my purse. Whatever Matt gave me is certainly doing its job, and then some.
With its own devious plans and intentions my hand crept smoothly between my thighs, nimbly deploying its fingers to the places they knew so well. There was something turning me on about being in the wrong room, too.
As I play gently with myself, I hear footsteps entering the room. Smiling, I softly kick the door of the stall open a bit further. He doesn't notice me, though, he's already turned to the urinal, hiding his penis from me. Like us though, he's gotten in for free. I don't know where Matthew is at. Probably offering makeup tips in the ladies' room, though.
As the young man drains himself, I watch, touching myself absently. Still, he doesn't notice me. I become more bold, inserting a finger into myself. So easily I slide in, mmm... Oh, yes, turn around. After a controlled shake he turns a maddening exact ninety degrees to the sink, and I still haven't caught his attention.
He washes his hands, then turns around the other direction and misses me entirely!
“HEY!” I yell at him, summoning his attention angrily.
He turns around on one heel, startled, and staggers backward into the wall, searching for the source of my voice.
“In here!” I yell.
Finding me in the last stall of the line, he finally discovers me with my legs splayed apart, fingers buried inside myself. “Whoa!”
“Hey,” I say, placing both feet back on the ground and standing up, “What's so interesting out there that isn't in here?”
“Umm...” he begins, but no words follow. His cock rises faster than I've ever seen one do before. I want it so bad. I just... do.
“Come on,” I encourage him, “I'm lonely. I was supposed to get married last night, and I didn't. Not even a little bit. Didn't get laid, either.”
He smiles, and his breathing drops back to normal. Closer to normal, anyway, it's like he feels more at ease, somehow, knowing I'm as vulnerable as him. I guess I could have seemed a bit like a jungle cat, stalking him, ready to pounce. Now he wants me a little too. Good.
“So what do you want with me?”
“I just have some frustration I need to work out,” I say. “I thought you might help me with that, a bit.”
To my surprise, he looks me in the eye, and says, “I'd love to. What can I do for you?”
I smile and take his hand. This is what I want. What I need. Fuck what the world wants; thinks I should want. “You want me?”
“Hell yes,” he says, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Good,” I tell him. “Show me.”
“Alright,” he says, taking me by the wrists.
He kisses me, walking me backward toward the wall. Before I know it, my arms are above me, pressed against the wall as he presses his into mine, continuing to kiss me. As we kiss, bodies melding nearly into one, he hardens fully, and it doesn't take long. Holding both of my wrists gently with one hand he roughly massages my breast as I take firm hold of his cock.
Stroking it toward me, I tighten my grip as my hand approaches, forming a ring with to fingers behind the glans as I tug. Whispering vibrations echo from his chest as he groans in pleasure. He kisses my neck, then bites. Yes, again. He does, then the other side. Slipping from his grasp I lead him by his prick to the stall I had been in, jerking him the whole way.
He follows willingly and grins wide as I reach into my bag, retrieving a square foil package. I say, “Are you up for it?”
He nods, and I drop to my knees for a moment, still holding his cock, guiding it into my mouth. My tongue glides in a careful spiral around the head of him. With ease, I engulf his shaft, swallowing the first half of it in one go. Salty, but not sweaty, he tastes good. Masculine and clean. I stay for a moment, playing with his balls and sucking.
A moment later, I stop a moment, tear the package with my teeth and roll the condom down his shaft. He stands me up and turns me around. I put both hands against the wall and let a chemical grin twist my face again as he pushes into me. He goes in easy and can feel that I'm ready for him, so he builds a rhythm quickly. Soon, he's fucking me hard, and takes hold of my hair.
“Mmm...” I moan, “Yeah, fuck me...”
He does, reaching under me, leaning over. He kisses my neck, biting. Nibbling my earlobe while he plunges deep inside me, harder faster. Everything he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm - almost the polar opposite of my... ex. Ex. Wow, this would be a terrible time to start crying. Okay... it feels good. I am enjoying myself. Focus on the pleasure, almost painful. Powerful, and oh yeah, induced.
Whatever. I'll take it. It feels amazing, actually, and the pain turns so easily to pleasure for me. Help me, come on. “Are you close?”
He groans, I can tell resisting, but says “Yes.”
“Mmmm... Good. Fuck me until you cum!”
It doesn't take long before he widens his stance a bit and takes hold of my hips, thrusting hard upward. Just naturally I play with myself as he does it, and I'm so close. As he fills the condom I start to constrict and squirm again, biting my lip, breathing hard.
He obviously needs a moment to sit, which I allow him without any words. I clean up a bit at the sink and and just head for the door, leaving him behind to recover. Never even caught his name. I laugh quietly at that.
I turn around the corner into an exhibit I don't know. There's what appear to be manuscripts, or designs? Drawings and... all kinds of interesting stuff. This is curious. Worth examining... It's in... not Latin. I have no idea what I'm looking at.
Oh damn. Yes I do. Kind of, anyway. What is happening out here? Matt. Where is Matt? There is a man, standing on a table, with two women at his feet, one stroking his naked body, the other giving an impassioned blowjob. He has an incredible ass. A silent crowd has formed; mostly women. Matthew is nowhere to be seen.
Not knowing what else to do, I text Ursula, 'Get down here'.
“We're right behind you,” Jasmine says, from about ten feet. They can see me, but not the scene in front of me, “What's up?”
“See for yourself.”
“Oh my God, that's Matt!” The words escape from Jasmine's lips almost instantly, at which Ursula and I look both puzzled and skeptical. “The ankle. Check the scar.”
“Holy-” Ursula turns around, her hand covering her mouth in hilarity and surprise, but she turns around again, momentarily.
I say nothing, just watching as he holds her head, sliding his cock down her throat and moaning almost in song. Matthew. My Matty, with them! Utter beauties, blonde and brunette, like sculptures that belonged two floors up. They switch, and the brunette slides all the way down his rod. He holds her there, running his fingers through her hair and she moans, touching herself.
Matthew summons a deep bellow of pleasure as he grows close, and cums. Ejaculating several times, I imagine him filling her mouth with sticky, hot jizz. Calling for more, the girls start sharing it, for show perhaps.
About then, two officers burst into the room from the stairwell and I thank God that neither one is my father. They seem as shocked to walk in on this as Ursula and I were to realize it was our Matt up there.
The girls share his load for the benefit of the audience. One officer is clearly impressed, the other is not, and begins shouting threats. One of the girls tries to convince them it was performance art. A brief exchange occurs, ending I think with the following statement: “Don't worry officer, it's performance art because I'm gay,” another string of fictional laws, along with Matt's and one of the girls' phone numbers for each cop.
All I can do is try to recognize them, see if my dad's going to hear about this. They talk a couple more minutes, and Matthew slips him something. He looks to all of us, and someone grabs my hand. The next thing I know, we're leaving the building, but not in handcuffs. Half a smile works over my face, warping one side of it upward.
- - -
“So... That's what happened at the art museum...” Matt says,
“Yes,”Jasmine says, “You decided to go home afterward and think about the things you do for 'art' and why you do them. A party didn't seem like what you needed.”
“No. Doesn't seem like what I needed,” Matt puts his head down on the table.
“Sorry, Matt.”
“No, I did what I did. Gotta take responsibility for that. Look, I got their phone numbers and everything,” he says, showing us, each with pictures of their... decorated faces.
“...Classy,” Jasmine says.
“So, party?” Ursula asks.
“What do you mean? It was your- Oh. Well you wouldn't remember, either, would you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Leaving the museum, you said something like 'I'll have a shot of whatever they're having', and Matt handed you something before he took off. I drove to the party by the way. I realize now because I'm the only one who wasn't high, but then, I'm a responsible adult.”
“Hey now, quit fighting. I think the more important thing is, what happened at this party?” I interrupt.
“Fine. We'll fight later.”
“We will?” Ursula asks, with irresistible eyes.
“We'll see.”
“So?”
“Well...”
- - -
“Where is this party, exactly?” I ask.
“Close to home.”
“Please, no,” I say, pretty sure that was the answer, passing the enormous, twisted white oak on the bend so familiar to me.
“Oh relax,” Ursula says, “She's going to be twenty miles away.”
“That wasn't my concern, but... Thanks,” I say, annoyed by the very notion of sharing myself with a bunch of jackasses around a keg right now.
The car was gliding smoothly over the pavement until suddenly it wasn't, when Jasmine veered onto rough gravel at Ursula's gesture. The road zigs and zags, jagged. Maybe half an hour, an hour down this road, we turn a corner and reach a small dirt parking lot. Three massive bonfires duel on the hill over us, surrounded by at least a hundred people. Lots of plaid, jeans, boots and hats. Just like home.
Jasmine makes an entrance, skidding to a halt, and sliding into place where. That was not cool. I am so dizzy now. The others disembark the monstrous vehicle but I stay a moment. “Ready?” Ursula asks me through the window.
“Sure,” I say, getting out, and leaning against the side of her truck.
“Jas and I are going to hook up with some of my old friends. Do you want to come?”
“Nah.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. Just going to find myself a drink and hang out for a bit,” I deceive her, “Have a good time.”
As soon as she's gone, I wander toward the bonfires. Glowing sparks dance on the wake of embers hurled skyward by three bonfires on the hillside. All told, my life so far, this is probably where I should be tonight instead of a honeymoon suite. That was his idea anyway. I'd have rather been outside tonight in the first place. Rolling hills, grand oak trees, a big, beautiful hay barn. Scarlet sundown turning fast to night the color of coal.
Suddenly, a tall silhouette stands in front of me, blocking what remains of the sun,“Howdy,” he says, holding two beers.
“Sup?” I ask, taking a beer.
“You look cold,” he tells me, eying my sundress in the fading light.
I smile back at him and say “Thanks,” for the beer as he hands it to me, and shrug as I tell him “I am a bit,” though only barely.
Removing his large, heavy jacket he hangs it off my shoulders like a cape. The sleeves dangle like wings almost to me knees, and his plaid clad chest is shown off a little better. I like it. He looks nice in the sunset, the cool breeze tossing his dark hair around in the wind just as far as it will go - which isn't far. Looks like a couple of days since he's shaved, and he smells like woodsmoke.
“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks casually.
“Yeah, alright,” I tell him, looking halfway away, “Where to?”
“Anywhere,” he says, offering me his arm, “How about the river?”
I take his arm and follow him silently, wondering how much interest he has in my words. For a moment I wonder how much interest I have in his, as I feel his firm arm hugged tightly under mine.
“Finally,” he says, cracking his beer and taking a sip.
“What?” I ask him, doing the same.
“Oh, nuthin'. I'm just glad to get away from all that smoke. I've been breathing it for two days.”
I lean my head on him as we walk, unable to smell anything but burnt oak. I'm still pretty out of it, but in a few minutes, we get down to the river bank. Seems like a little sub-party has migrated down here, between two hills where the water slows down. A few couples mostly secluded and a handful of random extras splashing about or laying out on the rocks in the dim scarlet light. The air here, between the two slopes is cooler, and I hug the shoulders of his jacket closer to me.
“Hey Luke!” One of the men in the water calls over to him.
“Marcus!” He calls back jovially, raising his beer, as we pass, more or less ignoring him.
Instead of stopping, we keep walking, sipping our beers. Moving along the river, I can see the bottom of it. Rocks. Round ones. Little bugs. Probably fish where there's a current. I take my head off of Luke's triceps for a moment and smell the world away from the smoke, and away from the smog. Clean. Breathing in, I feel the humidity of the river just cleaning me out; which is good, because I am wobbling on my feet.
After being quiet for a moment, Luke says tentatively “Can I ask you something?”
“Um... sure, I guess.”
“The hell are you walking in?” he chuckles at my gait.
“Shut up.” I tell him.
“Okay... Do you want to sit?
“Yeah, actually. That would be great,” I tell him, looking around.
“There's a good spot up around this next bend,” he smiles.
“Alright...” I follow him a few more yards.
A massive fallen tree is well grounded over the river, past the bend where it drops. Must be six feet wide at the base, and anyone on the tree would be above a deep pool, and have a clear view of the waterfall. “That is a good spot,” I say, with some quiet applause in my head.
“Yeah, she fell about two years back. One of my favorite places then, and now.”
“It's hard to notice there's no one else so old nearby,” I say, stepping tentatively onto it.
“It is,” he says, following me, “My granddaddy clear-cut the whole area fifty years ago.”
“With no offense to your family,” I tell him, “What an asshole.”
“None taken,” Luke says, finishing his beer, crushing his can instinctively and setting it down beside us as we sit.
As I attempt to do the same and succeed only marginally, conversation halts for a moment while I awkwardly crumple downward. The soft mossy bed beneath me is actually very comfortable. Comforting, even. Bright green, with flowers poking through it in places.
“So,” he says, “If you don't mind my askin', who brought you to this little shindig?”
“Not sure exactly. Might be crashing,” I tell him.
“Uh-oh.”
“I'm here with Jasmine and Ursula.”
“Alright then. No problem,” he says, looking a bit intimidated.
“Jas, or Ursula?”
I don't have to wait for a response, and we speak together, “Ursula.”
“What is it with her?” I ask him.
“You tell me. She's your friend.”
“Well, technically she's my god-mother, but I think she was about ten when I was born.”
“That's weird,” he says.
“Tell me about it. Really everything about her is weird.”
“I remember.”
“And don't even get me started on her girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Luke exclaims, “Damn! So, Ursula's not drivin' stick anymore...”
“Classy, bro,” I mock.
“Whatever,” he ignores me, “If you knew her like I did,”
“So, you know her pretty well?”
“Used to,” he says, “We grew up together.”
“Really? Tell me some stories?”
“Can I ask you something first?”
“Sure, I guess,” I tell him, pretty sure what's next.
“You seem...”
“Sad?”
“Well, yeah,” he says.
“I bet. Look, I don't really want to talk about it. Right now, I want to have a good night. I want to party, maybe drink some more..”
“Alright,” he says, a obviously a little disappointed.
“I know I'm being all mysterious. If it makes you feel any better, I might also want to get a little laid,” I redirect the attention where I want it, purposely leaving off the word 'again' from the end of my sentence.
“Subtle,” he says.
“Hey, I was supposed to be boarding a plane to leave for my honeymoon,” I grab his arm to look at the beat-up wristwatch it bears, “Eight minutes ago. What do you know?”
“Damn.”
“Uh-huh. Subtle isn't exactly my first priority.”
“I understand. Let's just relax and have some fun,” he says, and puts his arm around me.
“So that's what's going on with the shoes?”
“...Yeah,” I say looking away from him, “I just haven't taken them off yet. The dress came off this morning, but, they stay for a while...”
“I get it.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Can't wear a wedding dress just around, but you can wear those. I mean, they're a little dressy, but I think I understand it as best as someone like me can.”
“Someone like you?”
“Someone who's never made it past three months in a relationship.”
“How's that?”
“Not for lack of trying, I promise you.”
“Well, one day, I'm sure.”
“Yeah...” for a moment he is distant, but snaps back to me within a second or two, “So, what can we do to cheer you up?”
“Just...”
I don't say anything else, but kiss him instead. Words aren't really my thing. At least not today.
His hand on the back of my head, he kisses me back. Good. God, that's good. Please, again... Time slows and stretches each time we kiss until it stops.
The next thing I know I'm flat on my back in the moss, the river still beneath me. The last bit of sunset slips below the hills as he lifts my dress, and leans closer. Luke's breath is as hot and intense, pulsing on my thighs as the blood surging through my heart. Shivering in the cool of dusk I shake off every bit of intoxication in pure ecstatic focus. Gasping in a deep breath, I bite my lip to keep it as he kisses me. Oh... his tongue... If you asked me now I'd swear I couldn't forget this moment.
My heart racing, all I can do is arch my back and hold on for dear life. Every part of me is gripping him or the tree, and fuck...! His tongue knows its way around. He's not ignoring my clit, but he hasn't even touched it. Mmmm... how fucking far can it get inside me? I bite my lip hard as he penetrates me and nibbles on my clit with his upper lip.
Fuck, I'm still so sensitive. One hand crosses to my right breast and squeezes, while he uses his other to apply gentle, brazen pressure to my ass. He withdrew his tongue and kissed me, looking toward my eyes; but waited only a moment before pressing on, unprotested.
Every part of me is hungry for this. I need him on me. His tongue and hands caressing me, making me his, and making me scream are too much. Feral, wild in the night, he leans forward and slides into me, easily. Crying out into the dark, I'm cumming hard as he penetrates me. Whimpering, I relax enough to let him start, and in the heat of the moment we begin to fuck.
Sliding into me rapid-fire like a piston working overtime, he's hitting me just in the right spot, mmmm... fuck! Ah... I squeeze my nipple and play with my clit while he nails me to this tree. Oh fuck, oh no. Already? I'm cumming again! Where did that even come from? He pulls out, or rather is forced out of me, and looks into my eyes for a moment, both of us panting.
Fuck, I do not normally cum like that. I slip my hand between his arms and reach between his legs to hold his cock. I kiss him, holding my wrist and forearm to it as I massage his balls and the base of his shaft with the delicate tips of my fingers. Wrapping my thumb around him I stroke upward as I kiss him, seizing him by the back of the head, and leaning into him.
Without breaking our kiss I feel the sound of his moan on my tongue and delight in it. His cock is wet, slippery; and not just from me. He is so warm, so wet, mmm... I stroke him a few more times before leaning down, holding eye contact with him. Like a gentleman, he wants to pleasure me even as I'm taking him into his mouth. Less gentlemanly he slaps my ass on my way to push his finger against my anus again.
“Mmm... Careful with me,” I moan, “But not too careful.”
He smacks me again, and issues a gravelly moan of his own, grabbing a fistful of my hair,
“Again!” I say, before taking his cock back into my mouth.
Luke spanks me hard, and uses his hold on my hair to guide me down his shaft. Once I find a rhythm the spanking stops and he returns to what he knows I really want. His finger runs in little circles, relaxing me, opening me, then he pushes into my ass while I suck his cock. He holds my hair but relaxes his grip as he gently fucks me. Moaning, I can't help rubbing my stinging-sensitive clit.
Sucking hard at first, I swirl my tongue around him, then relax to take all of him into my throat, and swallow his entire cock, to its base. My lips firmly seal around him, dragging as I continue to pleasure him. I can tell he's nearing his limit, that getting me off was his fun. I'm getting close again too; this is too much. His finger in my ass, his cock in my mouth, my fingers working on my clit, mmm...
“MmmMMMMM....” I moan louder with is cock in my mouth.
“Oh fuck, yes! Mmmh!” Luke calls out as he starts emptying a thick load in my mouth. He takes almost a minute and several shots to finish, holding my head the whole time, while I cradle his balls and stroke his cock.
Moments after, when both of us are satisfactorily finished, I rest my head in his lap a moment, and he spreads his coat over me again. We rest that way a few seconds, and my eyes drift. A little while later, I find Ursula, Jasmine and Andrea standing over us.
“Oh, hey Ursula. Long time.”
“Lucas,” she says.
- - -
“And that was pretty much it,” Jasmine says.
“Not quite,” the last voice of our quintet joins us finally.
“Andy,” Ursula jokes, “Welcome back.”
“So, what did we get up to last night? What happened?” Matthew asks, “Anything awesome?”
“Hang on a minute,” Andy snaps at us looking back from the clock, “What's wrong with you people? I've been on that floor for over an hour.”
“Sorry...” I say, “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine. And in fairness I do deserve it, and worse, but so do all of you.”
“Why? What the fuck did we do?” Jasmine insists.
“Really? Nobody but me remembers?”
Another voice from behind me speaks and something inside me falls.
“I remember.”
Ursula says, “Luke! How did you get here?”
“I drove you from the party. Don't you remember?”
“I do. Kind of,” Jasmine says, “Though it's pretty much the last thing.”
“Well, we came back here, drank more, did some lines. Haven't done that since college. You people are bad influences,” Luke says, grinning, “That was the craziest party I've been to in a while,” Luke says, “Sucks about that guy though. Does he really have to leave the country?”
Stunned silence, again. “What?” comes from Jasmine as she drops the her cup and shatters it entirely this time.
“Yeah,” Andrea says, “We got loud last night. It got late and the neighbors called the cops. We all got too crazy on the front lawn, and they searched those of us who had clothes. Guess what they found on Giacomo. He's a foreign national, so they're not pressing charges, but they're giving him seventy-two hours to leave the country, and he lost his scholarship because he got arrested.”
“At least he got laid first,” Luke jokes.
“What?”
“Oh yeah,” Andrea says, “That was funny, Matt and Giacomo did have sex in the living room.”
“How many people did I have sex with yesterday?” Matt exclaims.
“I think that's it,” Jasmine says, unamused.
The room quickly deteriorates into disjointed chatter, everyone trying to decipher how this all happened to themselves, rather than the group.
Andrea looks over at me and says “Seriously Christi, have you taken those shoes off since we got back from...?” her voice bends rather abruptly into silence as she reaches the end of the question.
“No.”
“Why...?”
“Because they're pretty. Because I obviously can't still be wearing my dress, and because I never got a chance to put on my fucking ring.”
There's quiet again.
“Christi...” Ursula starts.
“No, you know what? I think I'd like to go for a while. You... all of you have some stuff to work out. I'm sorry,” I say, looking around the room, then head to mine and gather up my things quickly, along with what I assume is Luke's phone, and underwear.
Handing him his effects, I say to Luke, “Can I hitch with you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks,” I say. He follows me a few moments after I leave the house.
We climb into his truck, and as he fires up the engine, he asks, “Where to, exactly?”
I'm silent. I'm running from my friends. I wouldn't dream of going to my family at a time like this. My home is currently populated by my ex-fiance.
As the road stretches into highway, I admit, “I have no idea."
