• Home

Art World Hook-Up

Posted on May 27, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

“Does it ever feel like life as we once knew it and the things we held so dear are now merely memories? And faulty ones at that? For I am no longer my brother’s keeper or my father’s son though that relationship still exists and so does the other one. I’m too far gone now, there’s no way back and time has opened up a rift so wide I think I’ll fall in. Or maybe I’ll just drown myself in spirits undistilled…”

The poet on stage went on like that for an hour, at least it seemed like an hour, maybe it was no more than five minutes. It became difficult to tell how long a second could stretch when every space between performer and audience was filled with a delicate drone denouncing life’s many improprieties.

He wasn’t there for the art, he didn’t even consider it art. He was there for the wine, which was free and the women, who could be. He liked the situation; it filled him with great satisfaction to be doing very bad things while people wailed about how other people were doing very bad things and everyone around was agreeing with them.

His own attitude to life and the many atrocities it committed on the living was, “shit happens, let’s move on.” His own personal philosophy went along the lines of, “do unto others before they do unto you.” He didn’t care much for quiet reflection or bemoaning the world’s ills. It made him ill and he didn’t like throwing up unless he’d had a lot to drink. He tried to understand the lay of the land without ever obviously displaying his disinterest in the happenings on stage. That would not do, for people to see that he was not enjoying the evening’s entertainment. ‘Enjoying’ was a strong word, as was ‘entertainment’; it made more sense to call it a discourse and suffering through it was what the assembled audience was supposed to do. It was church in the absence of church and the people on stage were priests exhorting the laity to do penance for their sins.

At this church the sins were environmental hazards, the death of the family, the erosion of the sanctity of marriage and the penance was charity and sloganeering. It was downright wrong for a person to not care about the environment in these circles. Separation of wet and dry garbage, the effects of the ozone layer, global warming and what it was doing to the polar ice caps, how each and every one of us was responsible for the tsunami of ‘04 and who knows what else…they complained, felt miserable, got drunk, felt even worse and when the timing was right, he swooped in and picked up a pliable piece of ass for some enthusiastic sex-as-absolution.

He was always impressed by how horny a depressed woman could get. Especially if the cause of the depression was external and despite all hints to the contrary it appeared that the world was going to end. That seemed to bring forth her inner slut.

We are all going to die? Really? The orgy begins in five minutes!

Nothing seemed to open up the pearly gates of orgasm more efficiently than the threat of imminent worldwide destruction. The earthy ones were good, the tattooed ones were better and the white girls…ah the white girls. It was like Catholic guilt magnified by the force of what their governments were doing elsewhere in the world. Somehow they felt responsible, perhaps for voting the wrong people into power or simply by the stigma of their nationality because the white girls got it going like nobody else.

Oh my gawd!

Oh my godd!

Oh mon dieu!

Dios mio, ai, ai!

It was a chorus of angels, if angels were horizontal less than three hours after exchanging preliminary pleasantries with a sweaty Indian who chose not to wear deodorant to poetry readings. It was his excuse to rant about how the aluminum in the cursed things was killing us softly and he wasn’t ready to risk his life just to smell good.

That drove them crazy. That and his manly musk, which he washed off himself as soon as he was out of sight of the ‘great unwashed for the good of the world’ and liberally doused every stinking area with all the Axe a guy could abide.

The man on stage was winding down…

About fucking time!

He saw her, walked up behind her and said, “I count six. Am I wrong?”

She turned around and her eyes were brilliant. If he wasn’t simply in the game to win he might have fallen in love. As it was he felt something stir in a place north of his belt buckle and a little to the left. She had a slight bulge to her belly, nothing unsightly, just not perfectly flat.

“What are you talking about?”

“Piercings.”

She fingered her left ear, and then her right and then she rubbed her nose, “I count five.”

He allowed his eyes to caress her left breast as he said, “Oh no, I’m sure it’s six.”

She smiled, “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re wrong.”

“How do I find out?”

“You can start by buying me a drink.”

“Booze is free.”

“Okay…then get me a drink. Vodka, tonic, ice and a wedge.”

“What do you call that?”

“The Jackal.”

“Why?”
“Why not?”

“Be right back.”

When he returned she was being chatted up by a preppie in slacks and gelled hair.

“Vodka, tonic, ice and a wedge.”

“Thank you. This is Akshai.”

Akshai piped in, “with an A-I.”

“Can’t imagine I’ll need to spell your name my man but thanks. Listen, I was about to ask her to marry me so do you mind if we had a moment alone?”

Akshai didn’t know what to say, he slapped both his thighs at the same time and said, “Okay. Nice meeting you.”

“You too man. Maybe if she has your number we’ll text you an invite. Cheers.”

He steered her towards the quiet balcony and immediately it was cooler. The breeze did a good job of confirming that he was right about the sixth piercing. He smiled in response to her wide open mouth, “You’re welcome.”

“He was nice.”

“He had too much gel on. I’m sure that’s bad for the environment.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me where you got each of the piercings.”

“Why?”
“So I’ll know whether you’re only into pain or whether you’re spontaneous as well.”
“Why?”
“It’s useful.”

“How?”

 “How’s a guy supposed to woo a girl if he gives away all his trade secrets.”

“Am I going to have to pay you for the wooing?”

“No…”

“Then how is it a trade?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Still have to give you grief for driving Akshai away don’t I?”

“Fair enough. How’s your drink.”

“Good. What do you do?”

“Why?”

“Isn’t that what people talk about when they meet for the first time?”

“Couldn’t say. I’m not people. I’m more interested in your piercings.”

“Okay is this some sort of fetish thing?”

“Actually it’s a psychology thing.”

“I don’t like to discuss them.”

“Cool. I’m a photographer.”

She seemed surprised that he had let it go that easily, “Oh. Cool. What kind of photography?”
“Natural light, ambient sound, portraits and human landscapes.”

“What are human landscapes?”

“Nudes.”

She smiled without looking at him and said, “I’d love to see some.”

“Maybe you will.”

“When?”

He shrugged and drained two fingers of alcohol in one gulp, “You want another one?”

“I’m good.”

He disappeared through the large doors and was gone for a while. She sipped her drink and watched the sky go from pink to deep purple. When he returned it was dark and his expression was difficult to read.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”

“I considered it.”

“Did I make such a bad impression?”

He didn’t respond. She faced him, leaned against the balcony and watched as he tried to look anywhere else but at her, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“Do you want to?”

“Maybe…”
“Start talking about menstruation.”

“Sorry?”
“Or rectal bleeding.”

“Enough! I get the point. Fine. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to see what you were made of.”

“Flesh and bone like everyone else.”

“I can see that. You know what I meant.”

“What did you find?”

“I’m not sure. You look like the kind of guy who goes to these things to pick up women.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

“But you also sound interesting. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do with you.”

“Will it take long?”

“Is there somewhere else you have to be?”

His smile was just brilliant white teeth against the ever-darkening sky, “Depends.”
“On?”

“Never mind. It was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll catch you again sometime.”

“What…but…?”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and disappeared through the door before she had an opportunity to complete the thought. She burst through the door a moment later and he was nowhere in sight. She turned around and found him leaning against the wall next to the door. She stepped up, “What’s the big idea?”

He had a weird expression on his face.

When it didn’t look like she was going to go away without an answer he mumbled, “I came here to get laid. I don’t want to fall in love.”

She laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”

“I already like what I see.”

“So you’re running away?”

“It’s called self-protection. All the wild animals do it.”

“You’re not that wild.”

“It’s the clothes. They prevent me from being myself.”

 

Sixty-four minutes later she flopped her sweaty self down on the twisted sheets beside him, “Okay I guess you’re sort of wild.”

“I’m going to feel like calling you in the morning aren’t I?”

“Don’t look so upset. It had to happen sometime…”

He cupped her face in his hands, kissed her appreciatively and wrapped his arm around her as her head flopped back onto his chest, “Yeah I guess…but I thought I had more time.”

Comments