Previously, on A Young American…
To start at the beginning, go here.
Sleeping in the sky is strangely relaxing, until being awakened by a turbulent decent. I took a cab back into the city upon landing. The noise of the traffic and the people caught me off guard for a moment. When I saw the buildings and the crowds and the horns, I realized how much I missed it, until the cabby dropped me off at Barbara’s place. My heart skipped a beat with every step, and I texted Charlie to let him know I might need help moving back to my apartment in Jersey.
I left my stomach in the lobby when I walked on the elevator. The doors swung open and there was no sign of life inside, just the fresh scent of Barbara’s shampoo smacking me in the face so hard I almost hit the deck. She was kind enough to leave the rest of my things in two trash bags. I grabbed them and headed for the door, before checking the fridge for a beverage. When I did I found a folded note taped to a Coke bottle. It was typed, of course:
I figured you would check the refrigerator before you left. I don’t know how long it will take you to come back and see this, but I took an awful long time writing it so please don’t just throw it away. I don’t know if you love me, or if you ever did. But I loved you. And all I wanted was for you to find a career, something you could enjoy or look forward to going to in the morning. I like what I do, so it doesn’t feel like work for me. But I know people don’t change. You hear it all the time, and I’ve always thought it wasn’t true, but I guess it is. I just wanted you to know that all I did was try to help you, and maybe one day you’ll take my advice.
I sniffed the snot back into my nostrils as I looked around the apartment for a piece of paper and a pen. I’ll be damned if I don’t get the last word. I sat down at the table and thought about what to write. I kept glancing at the clock, even though Barbara wouldn’t be home for a while. It took me over half an hour and 30 or 40 scraps of paper before I finally got the proper introduction.
I love you. And that’s an achievement, because I’ve only loved two women in my whole life, and no, the other is not my mother. You say that people don’t change, but I don’t know if that’s the case. I think people can change, but at their core they will always stay the same. You will always be a career driven woman who wants the same from her spouse, and I will always be a jobless man living off the land for as long as he can. After meeting you, and spending this past year in your care, under your roof, I want to remain with you, but my core prevents me from doing anything but string you along. I can change virtually everything else about myself for you, and would in a heartbeat, but this is something that’s as much a part of me as my consciousness. I don’t want to keep you around, making promises I know I can’t live up to. That would be selfish, something I once was, but have since changed. I hope one day we can find each other again and share a few drinks over your successes and my failures, both of which I’m sure we’ll be proud of.
I took my car out of her parking garage, headed to Charlie’s place and rang the bell. He answered the door and it was clear he wasn’t fully awake. “I doubt you got my text.” I said.
“Yeah I got it. You know I coulda picked you up from the airport.”
“Nah, I had to run by Barbara’s anyway. Did she call you at all?”
“No.” Charlie said, “But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. I make it a rule that when a friend breaks up with a girl, I cut off all ties too.”
“That’s a good rule.” I said, “Got any about helping a good buddy move?”
“It’s a little dated, but I’m for the classic that says the mover has to provide the beer and the pizza.”
“Done.” I stepped inside and waited for him to shower and shave before we drove out to New Jersey, where I promptly resigned a new lease and we got a U-Haul to move everything from my storage shed to the apartment. Afterwards, Charlie and I sat and enjoyed the treats that were promised, surrounded by boxes and furniture sporadically placed about the apartment in a déjà vu setting.
“So how was Kansas?” he asked.
“Shitty. Not the same. Although it was shitty before.”
“Any good stories?”
“Oh, I’ve got a few.” I told him I was hot for teacher and my battle with Mr. Cooper. He laughed so hard he began to cry.
“Oh, wow. What a treat!” He said, “How long were you there, like a week?”
I mocked Coop’s voice, “Not ‘like’ a week, my boy. A week.” We both burst into laughter again and finished our beers.
“So hey, you gotta come out this weekend and meet my new girlfriend. I think I’m gonna keep this one for a little longer than the rest.” I shrugged a ‘sure’ and we toasted to each other a shot of Jack before he went on his way. I walked to the window and stared at the hard moon rising on the streets. When I first started drinking I was in a similar position. So many moons ago I picked up my father’s whiskey glass and poured myself a heaping helping. The sound of the golden brown liquor pouring over a couple rapidly cracking ice cubes reminded me of rolling a collection of marbles across the floor as a child. That moment it touched my lips my life changed, and I didn’t even know it. A seamless transition to the new me.
A bit of excitement stirred up inside me. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to explore the city of blinding lights. I wanted to see them now. I wasn’t ready to lie down just yet. Maybe I was afraid of what dreams may come, or maybe I just wanted to get shit faced. Or maybe it was fate. Regardless, I got my keys, ran down to the parking garage. As I was walking to my car I heard the honk of a train. Making a last minute decision I stuffed said keys in my pocket and ran to the station behind my apartment. I stepped on just in time and gazed at all the weirdoes, with a few normal people sandwiched between. Two spots were open.
One was facing the opposite direction that I prefer, and the other was behind a short petite blonde woman who seemed to be using her makeup as training weights for her eyelids. Her lips were attached to the much older gentleman sitting next to her. Lucky I went with briefs instead of boxers. Obviously I chose the seat behind the woman and her succubus. As I walked past, I made another glance at them, and saw that while her lips were attached to his, her eyes were on me. I sat in the seat behind her and we exchanged glances until we got to Newark, where the old man got up and said goodbye. I expected her to turn to me after that but she just sat, facing forward. She didn’t even turn around once to say hi. Cock teasing bitch. When we arrived in New York I got up and walked off the train, I didn’t even look at her. I had to make my way to the bathroom and quick, otherwise this would be on my mind all night. As I got up to Penn Station, I heard a voice behind me. “Hey!” Probably talking to someone else, but I turned anyway. It was the blonde woman, staring at me and smiling. I walked over to her.
“Could’ve said something on the train.” I said.
“What? After all those people staring at my make out session?”
“You didn’t know who they were.” All the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the wrinkles around her eyes. Forty was my guess, “So, who was that? Boyfriend or a fuck?”
“Neither.” She laughed; it was a suspiciously sexy laugh.
“Well, how coy of you. So what was he?”
“Hundred bucks and a hotel and I’ll tell you.” She batted her eyelashes. Quite a workout for those lids.
“You’re a hooker?” Why was I surprised?
“Shh! Jesus.” She said, looking around.
“Sorry. Call girl.” I said.
Then her voice deepened ever so slightly, “Look, do you want it or not?” I’d never paid for sex before, but it was always a fantasy for me.
“Why don’t we walk and discuss what’s included in the package.” I held out my arm and she put her work smile back on as she grabbed it. We walked down Seventh Avenue.
“Well,” The sweetness in her voice returned, “A hundred dollars up front, plus the hotel, and after that you can do whatever you like.”
“Sounds awfully cheap to me, but then again I’m not familiar with the rates.”
“Oh, I’m giving you a discount because I think you’re sexy.”
“Pimp won’t mind?”
“I haven’t answered to anyone in years.”
“Since when, ’86?” I mumbled.
“I said, since when, ’86?” I was waiting for a slap across the face, followed by a walk meant to show me what I was missing. Wouldn’t have worked. I’m a tit man, through and through. She just chuckled. “Hey, I may be a bit older, but I still make enough money to keep other jobs at bay.”
“Fair enough. Got a favorite place?”
“What about the Chelsea Hotel?”
“Ah, someone who serves scribes.” I hailed a cab. The sooner I passed the point of no return the better. She had condoms, and they weren’t vending machine ones, which was nice. What wasn’t nice was how she kept grabbing my dick in the cab. The first time it was playful, but it got old quick.
“Stop it!” I said, covering my crotch.
“You don’t like that?”
“Not every five seconds.” I looked out the window as we pulled up to the hotel, “We’re here.” I paid the cabby, tipping him nicely for making an illegal turn for me, grabbed the lady’s hand and got out. “What’s your name?”
“Fine, don’t tell me.” We checked in, took the elevator to the 12th floor, went inside and she made her way towards the bathroom while I took the bed. Why did women always do that? Do they have to piss before fucking, otherwise they’d be at risk of oozing out urine when they came? Maybe all the women I’ve ever fucked secretly douched. She came out in a red silk robe. “Are there free robes in there?” I asked.
“No, this came out of my bag.”
“Well, I’m not paying you to change clothes. Take it off.” I’d always wanted to say something like that. She did as asked. She may have had a 40-year-old face but that body was younger than me. Her breasts were fake, but I never cared about that shit. I motioned her over and she climbed on top of me, kissing me deeply.
“I thought hookers didn’t kiss.”
“Hookers do everything.” She said as she kissed her way down my neck and stomach, then she put the condom on with her mouth. I brushed her hair out of the way so that I could see how deep she could take me. I should have expected the whole thing, but I was surprised when she did. Of course, the experience was lackluster because of the condom, but exceptional because it was from a hooker, so I guess it evened out. After about 20 minutes of giving me head on the poorly made bed, she got my dick out of her mouth and climbed on top of me. I was paying, so I didn’t expect to have to move from my spot. She started riding me, it felt good, not too loose. Either she worked out or it was a slow season. I pulled her toward me and stuck my tongue down her throat, then worked my way down to her chest, sucking on her nipples. I bit them, pulled at them with my teeth, and she let out a few soft moans while she bounced on my balls. I stopped and she spun around to reverse cowgirl, bending over and slamming up and down.
Her asshole was huge. It was like a dark, damp, unforgivable abyss from which nothing returned. I reached over and turned off the lights so I couldn’t see it anymore. She kept riding and moaning, and after the hour was up she kept going. I better not get charged overtime for this. She reached her hand down and started playing with my balls, then spread her pussy wide open and forced them inside her, with my cock, and swiveled on them. It felt unbelievable, it was about time she taught me something new. It didn’t take much longer for me to explode inside the condom inside her, and she must’ve sensed it, because as soon as it was over she climbed off of me, and my balls did not feel as good coming out as they did going in. It was as if someone had loaded them in a slingshot and they slammed against the bed. I grabbed my privates and rolled over in pain.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” She said.
“You fucking bitch! Fuck!” I grunted. She put her clothes on while I recovered. Needless to say, I booked another appointment.