Angels of porn looked down at me from the large television screens overhead as whatshisname drove his fingers into me. The screens cast a harsh white glow upon the lounge. My legs were propped up on a black rubber mat as I looked up into the face of a man I knew I would never see again but chose to give myself to anyway. Fully dressed and with a face of cold marble, he methodically worked himself deeper into my naked form and let his free hand wander.
I didn’t need to look up to see them. They came one by one out of silent curiosity, gathering around the two of us and reaching to pleasure themselves through dirtied jeans and business pants. I tried not to think about my two newly knighted exes married in there happy house with their happy daughter, their happy sex toy left out on the corner.
I let myself moan because that’s what I knew how to do, and that’s what I knew would make them want me and pay attention to me and please me and spend time with me and ravage me in all the ways my naive little brain divined in my dreamscape of fulfillment.
The man whose name I never learned licked his lips and it left a sheen of spit around badly shaven skin. He grunted as he felt himself reach my spot. He stroked it. I clenched my teeth and whispered dirty things. He reciprocated and I had soon accumulated a crowd of closeted middle-aged men watching this man play with my innards as if they were intellectuals viewing an open-heart surgery.
I did not feel vulnerable being the only naked body amongst a herd of fully clothed animals. I felt scared, excited, turned on, confused--wanted. I relaxed and his digit slipped deeper still. I thought of my mother sitting at home while her son put out for the denizens of Club Tabu, tucked quietly behind a sex shop. I thought of the men eyeing every exposed morsel of disgusting flesh and salivating. I thought of these things as I released, and the men’s breaths all caught in their throats in a chorus of shock and pure hormonal torture.
He chuckled and took a scoop for himself, lathering it on his lips and sucking it off his fingers. The others shifted to allow him free movement. He reached over. tore off some alcohol wipes, and tossed them onto my body.
“Here,” he murmured. “Clean yourself up.”
As he exited the room, the air stiffened. At least a dozen eyes fell on me. I leaned up against the wall and slowly wiped the sweat and fluid from my bare chest. They glowered, their hands still attached to their crotches, eyes almost unblinking. Whatshisname returned with a towel and ushered for me to clothe myself. I nodded. I fought with my clothes and moved to leave. A man with a goatee not unlike my father’s winked at me from the doorway.
“Thanks for the show.”
