biblical times.

gaymer boys

cinematically, the games i play
a lot of slurs and simply vulgar language.

i rubbed the sleep from my eyes as the abrasive sun angrily greeted me a good morning. naked. all of my glory for the world to see.

that's not new though. actually, it's about every morning that i wake up in my birthday suit. sore in more ways than one with a stranger beside me.

i roll onto my left side to see an empty bed. an empty bed?

sliding into my jeans that were at the side of my bed, i shuffled out into the living space of my apartment to again, find an empty room.

my feet hit the cold tile as i walk into the kitchen to boil water for some morning tea.

ah. a note, how generous. it doesn't please me when im greeted in the morning with a note. even worse, when they tip me like some whore.

but then, am i not? what would my mom call this behavior? sex work? bartending definitely isn't sex work, even though i make it look like it is.

i don't fuck around for money, i don't do it even cause i want it all the time.

its attention i crave. it's attention i need.

i pick up the note which was written on a paper towel and read, "thanks for last night. don't buy another cactus."

great, what the hell did i tell him about a cactus? wish i could remember.

what i do remember is his name, shockingly. i never remember names. it was michael... and that's all ive got.

I don't look for trouble
I do not accept blame
I've a good and a bad side
But they're one and the same
Ask me to arouse you
I will rise and obey
These are the games I play

i bite on my lip as i lazily look through my cabinet for the bottle of acetaminophen for my goddamn headache.

the burner is warm to stand next to since my torso is bare and my apartment has no heat. for october, no heat is usually okay... but this morning is particularly cold.

i shuffle my way into the bathroom where i aggressively shove the shower curtains back and plug the drain to the bath tub. with a rough motion, i turn the faucet onto a high heat and turn away from the bath.

grabbing a candle and a lighter from the basket of magazines next to the toilet, i prop up a candle on the edge of the tub. i ponder its precarious placement before lighting it anyway.

the bath fills steadily and i can observe the steam created by the hot water and the cold, porcelain bath.

i hear the faint, persistent whistle of the tea kettle behind the noise of the faucet.

"im fucking coming," i about at the kettle as i scurried to the kitchen.

i poured a generous amount into a black mug and placed two sugar cubes into the steaming tea. i always said green was more elegant than black. there's a delicacy to a cup of green tea and i need all the delicacy i can get.

i walked with the mug back to the bathroom and shut the door. i turned off the faucet and struggled to remove my jeans from around my feet.

maybe i need to lose more weight?

i put my mug carefully next to the lit candle and slid into a calming, hot tub of water. i need to give my muscles a break after hard effort.

it's not like i had tried to lose weight, you know?