Fuck. Her legs straddle me. Our tongues are thrust so far down each other’s throats that it’s like we’re attached. In my mind I picture Siamese twins. She bites on my lip and chews. I picture a cute School girl chewing on bubble gum. I wince and she lets out a playful laugh. Her crotch grinds against the bulge in my pants and my hips meet hers. Her hips mimic the same action picking up tempo. Now her mouth is my entire existence. All I see, and smell, and feel is her. I want this feeling to last forever. My hands wander aimlessly around her body, grabbing at nothing, all I can think is I want to feel inside her.
Thirty minutes earlier I’m in a bar, “The Dixie Grill.” Or Chris calls it “Dixie Chicks.” Or Brittany calls it “Dicks and Chicks.” I call it home. I call it salvation. A place of fun, I don’t care what it’s called. I care about the brunette bartender with brown doe eyes. I’m ignoring her on pure principle. Chris says “You look really nice tonight.” The bartender smiles and flicks her hair in a flirtatious manner. “Thank you.” She says. “Will you be having your usual tonight?” Chris smiles and chuckles like he just heard a funny joke “Wow, you know me so well already.” He says “It’s almost like you can read my mind.”
I’m not looking. I plug in my headphones and pretend to study a menu. Like I said before, pure principle. What do I want...? Beer? Or should I skip the appetizers and go straight to the main course. Whiskey? Someone taps me on the shoulder. Chris. I pull a headphone out of one ear. I know what he’s gonna ask before he says it. So I look up for the first time and I give doe eyes an uninterested look. I say “You look kind of familiar.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Really?” I tell her yes and that she looks kind of like the girl from The Mummy. I ask her “What’s your name?” She tells me her name’s Loren. “Oh, “I say sounding disappointed. “I expected something a little more…exotic.” She says “People tell me my name’s spelled exotic. It’s Lauryn, with a ‘y’.” I say “I guess that’s kind of the same.” But I don’t sound very impressed. She asks me for my name and I tell her to guess.
Whoever first said that the first impression is the most important was a genius. My life’s built around first impressions. Ask anybody. The first 5 minutes when you meet a girl she makes a decision. Am I gonna fuck him? She asks herself. Am I gonna take him to the bathroom on my break and blow his brains out? Sometimes, I think that my personality is built around those 5 minutes. If anybody talked to me for any longer than that they’d probably hate me. Or at least not like me very much. Ask my ex girl-friend. Or better yet my ex-girlfriend’s sister. I’m a monster. I have no self-control. If you’re a guy and you’re reading this you’re probably mentally high fiving me right now. Hell, as I write this admission the stupid, primal, dog of a male brain that I own is mentally high-fiving it’s self-right now. Women should hate me. Lauryn with a “y” should hate me. And what it all comes down to is, they’d have every right to.
Lauryn’s unzipping my pants. She grabs my cock and furiously jerks it up and down. The bathroom stall is cramped so she has to arch her back while she straddles me. Her elbow is digging into my knee as she jerks me off but I barely notice. I’m thinking about dead cats chopped to bits and sprinkled about in piles of dead babies. She locks me in a stare with her doe eyes. She licks her teeth and she goes down on me without breaking eye contact. Dead dolphins…dogs pooping…pizza rotting in a pile of vomit. Luaryn with a “y” deep throats me all the way to the base then rises slowly and kisses the tip. She grabs my neck and pulls me into a fierce kiss. She whispers in my ear “I want you inside me.” Every man’s favorite 5 words, next to the ever popular phrase “Put it in my butt.” And not to forget “Yes, I will suck your penis.” Oh, shit that’s six words.
Lauryn with a “y” asks me what my job is. She leans forward on the bar arms propped under to support her and rests her head on an upraised hand. The position is casual, relaxed, her chest pops out in just the right way to show case her breasts. Seductive is the word that comes to mind but it’s not the right word. I say “When I was a kid I wanted to go on adventures. I imagined myself discovering some place dangerous, and exciting. But as I got older I noticed that somewhere along the line, in our efforts to make a safe world of rules and discipline we succeeded only in making the world boring. There’s nothing tangible anymore. So, I settle for the intangible. That’s why I write.”
She asks “So you’re a writer?” I say “Yes.” I say “Lauryn has there ever been something you’ve always wanted to do—no matter how impossible?” Lauryn puckers her lips, squeezes her eyebrows together in thought. This tangible world is boring; which is why we look to movies, books, video games, and TV shows to find adventure. The truth is we need something to escape the monotony. Our minds are powerful tools. With them we have the ability to have perfect peace. But instead our imperfection as humans is what prevents us from being happy. I take another sip from my whiskey in an effort to drown my thoughts. If I could just stop thinking, I could be at perfect peace. “Sometimes,” Lauryn says. “Sometimes I wish I could fly.”
Lauryn holds my dog and guides me into her as she sits on top of me. She’s grinding me. Grinding me into her and with each thrust somehow she pushes me deeper. The act of sex its self is just exercise when it comes down to it. It’s a mechanical action purely meant for the purpose of releasing endorphins within your brain. The truth is we’re all drug addicts. All of us are on the level; the only question is how far along you are. I’d say Lauryn with a “y” and myself are at a 9. She hops up to the tip of my dog and slams down while I thrust into her. Our motion is in perfect unison. There’s no longer me, there’s no longer her, just us. Just her moans, and my grunts, my tongue, and her nipples exist.
What it all boils down to is we’re all looking for an escape. We need something to distract our minds from the monotony of the world around us. We go to parties, drink alcohol, and partake in the casual sex as a way to avoid the present. Truth is an orgasm is just another way to escape the bondage of responsibilities. Lauryn pitches her head back and shutters, her legs squeeze tight for a jerking instant, and I pop. For a moment we’re frozen in space, time no longer seems to factor, Lauryn’s eyes are rolled back, half lidded, her mouth stuck in an expression of pleasure. In that moment I think “There she is…She’s flying.”
