Complexity is the Majestic - Book 2

Routine

School is here. College.

Routine, this is essential for her, for the girl behind Vera.

I write as if I know her.

All my details blurted out here on these digital pages as if they are any fraction of accurate. This narrative isn't meant to be accurate- what does it matter?

Part of me think she's ravenous for school, classes, demands, rigor, routine. Getting it done, onward. Yet she shakes a bit. For where it goes next, way points on a timeline, leading where, somewhere.

"What do your parents really think you do?" I say, sitting in a VIP the clock ticking.

New couches, they gave us new couches. I'd like to think that was for us. Our chosen VIP room in the new club is mob like room with mirrors and wrap around couches. They are ok, they work. A five foot wood banister wraps the winding staircase that descends below. This is our seclusion, this is what I paid for.

With college, the tuition, surely her parents know thats expensive right? What's her white lie back to them? What's their realization that their daughter does something a bit more than waitressing. She's woven this lie before for years. Layer upon layer of deceit, layering that complexity, weaving her own majestic.

She finishes a beer staring back at me. I can see her process what I said.

"I have no idea..." she says taking the final gulp of her beer. Its as if the universe her microcosm protects her.

"My mom questions me... where this goes... I want to make sure it goes.." she continues, sentences out of order, talking in riddles, I thought that was just me. I straighten up a bit on couch, Vera straddling me, staring at me. She's comfortable, warm, present. I trace her frame, feel her ankles. I can see the worry rushing into her eyes, soon she'll shake it off, twisting her head back and forth, her familiar patron based intoxication salute.

"Ya know the other night, I just slept and that never happens, rare... " she said standing, turning her back to me, placing her empty glass on the banister. She's talking about the other night we stayed together and yes nothing happened, except for me watching over her the entire night.

"You never slept.." she says coming in closer leaning into me, her face coming closer to mine.

I couldn't sleep that night. Part paralyzed the night actually occurred, part pinching myself that it actually happened, part in terror that it did, part wondering what to do with the incredible amount of guilt and shame to bear with, part thanking the universe for the moment wondering what karma would have in store for me.

"I'm really comfortable with you, safe with you...." coming closer, I can feel her grip of me.

Moments later the VIP warden Travis appears, time to go. He works hard to sell me another 30 minutes, another hour, another thousand dollars, does it matter? This is the part I play right? The regular. I close. No more VIP for me.

Time to go.

These are her rules. Her routine. I am this part of that routine.

Conflicted. I enjoy our time, love our moments but I'm pursued by the notion of being played by myself, by her. I debate closing the book often, thinking about how it would be. Am I just weak? Lonely? Isn't that the same thing?

What's my routine? Work, home, separation, sleep, work, home, separation, sleep, work, home, separation, sleep, work, home, separation, sleep, work, home, Vera, sleep, work, home, vera, sleep.

Ally separates herself from me, on most days, in some instances- we're together but not. Thats my routine to be separated yet not to both these women.

Ally thru the separation of we are one but not. And Vera separated, divided by cash, and not. Girls come with a price, what's mine? Does Parker have a price for engagement?

I confess my thought processes to a cam girl online I know simply as Lindsey. She's russian, built like a gorgeous tank of a lady. Her ass is amazing. For 4hrs a day she lays on her side, exposing to the camera this gorgeous pair of cheeks and long legs. Few men in her chat room channel. I make an appearance, cursor blinking. We chat.

"Ya know this all ends when the cash ends..." Lindsey tells me. She like others tell me over and over again that Vera isn't real. I should know better. I'm being played. Every forum online confirms it as well- keep your regular in check, keep your regular wanting, needing but not too much.

"I'm easy money... " I tell Lindsey and a series of emoticons follow suit, each one laughing at me, mocking me.

"You're a little biatch, you like the chase, you chose this..." she blurts out as the new text comes in beeper goes off. She's right though, I chose this, as if I could get anything else.

"You need to tell your wife what you want..." she explains to me, communication is everything. The stripper is fantasy it goes no where why pursue it, why take that chance of destroying your marriage in the pursuit of a fantasy you know isn't real.

"Your wife isn't stupid.. she must suspect..." Lindsey cuts thru the noise in my own head. She's good like this, always taking me apart with the exacto knife all the while demanding token tips and flexing her gap. She rarely shows her face on the camera. Routine. Keep the routine. She has two or three positions usually, each one a tease and a call for tip me fucker. Oil occasionally on the legs, cheeks, you like this- the camera asks.

Ally likely does suspect. At one point she dreamed about me cheating vividly. Even mentioning it to me. She thinks the club is my social outlet. She tells me couldn't stop me from going anyways. Or maybe thats just her way of giving up.

Ally appears in the hallway, its late. She wanders into the living room as I close my laptop, closing the chat on Lindsey. She's baked, stoned again. Her preferred state of being. Makes me think for Vera its on patron, here but not. For Ally its high on weed, as often as she can be. She slides in next to me on the couch. Her eyes squinted. Her hair a mess. Her smile half cocked.

"You said something about food.. dinner?" she rambles.

"No i said too late for food, gonna be in bed soon. Have the soup i got ya before." I say sitting next to her. I hear Lindsey in my mind.. "communicate with her..".

"We should get down this week ya know, have some fun..." I say, lite, attempting to state what I want.

"Yeah, we should do it..." Ally descends into a long winded ramble of conditions to get down, the house a certain way, the music, the weed we have to take before hand, the show we'll watch, the food we'll eat, the prep she'll need to be with me. I deflect most of the conversation, disappointed.

"You're not gonna get deep on me again are ya...?" she says staring at me.

I deflect her again.

"No." I say firing up the TV, finding a show to watch. And this the extent of our communication in this marriage. Ally's conditions to be with me, many, and always with a sedative, some drug to help her get thru the moment. I don't want this any more. I get angry. I'm sick of the conditions. The bullshit story of how we get down that never occurs. Is this what true love was supposed to be like? A set of conditions and some drug to get you comfortable. Where is the woman i'm supposed to be with?

Where the fuck is she?

Why go to the clubs they ask me? They look at me like i'm the idiot going to the clubs, risking my marriage for some fantasy. I live the delusion at home, so why not a fantasy elsewhere. Why does it matter?

With VERA I buy the moment, cash enables me to get my fantasy, I bought her, yes, she's mine, i get this moment, now. Is that flawed? Cash is a better acceptable condition than all of Ally's demands that are everything BUT me.

Part of me wants to date again. I long for meeting someone. Maybe she's out there. Another person hungry for someone like me. I don't want to leave Ally but she breaks me in half every time she can't simply be with me. I wish didn't have to feel this way, to think this way.

Should be a blessing shouldn't it? A wife that leaves ya alone, so much to the point you start looking again.

Hopeless hunger.... my mind wanders as the show i fired up was some anime. I love anime. I wish i could get a slice of the connection like these characters get. They had a better animator than me- who's animating my life, me?