Loss (8 and 9) (610 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.75 on 10 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by jeveux... (View user info) at 2005-12-18 02:11:09 EST
The first installment: http://www.ubersite.com/m/80825
The list of Loss posts: http://www.ubersite.com/u/jeveuxgagner
By way of warning, this may not read well on its own, i suggest you start with the first installment, and if you like it, read on from there.
8
Jake is nervous. The girl of his dreams lies on the king size bed in a suite of the Intercontinental Hotel. Jake doesn't know it but she is nervous too. He stands at the foot of the bed and looks at her; it is not a look of lust or even love, but a look of disbelief. She is tall and thin and has long brown curly hair. Her perfect body is teasingly revealed by her sky blue lingerie, a present from her mum on her sixteenth birthday. Jake feels like he has been waiting his whole life for this moment. Each one of his sixteen years, he feels, has been merely a preamble. This, for him, is the beginning.
He begins to take his own clothes off although it feels awkward. He is embarrassed that he is already aroused. He lies down next to the girl on the bed and kisses her softly on the lips. She snuggles into him and looks deep into his eyes; a smile plays on her lips. She puts a finger on his mouth and leans around him, kissing him on the neck. Although they move together gently and slowly, before long she is straddling him and they are kissing passionately. Eventually he pushes her back a little. She looks at him inquiringly: she seems confident but Jake knows better, he can feel that she is shaking.
"Alyssa, are you sure?" he asks. Almost imperceptibly, the girl nods.
"I love you Jake."
"I love you too."
* *
9
I am annoyed that I did not get Amy's number, but that is not the reason I suddenly find myself in a very nasty mood. I am frustrated because I have realised that my interest in her is only a temporary distraction, a ruse by my mind to prevent panic, a psychological trick of the brain. I have just been brought back to reality, and it feels bad. In reality, it is stupid to involve the police to find the addict but approaching her myself, is a stupid plan. In reality, my only option is to wait it out; to wait for the virus to make its presence, or absence, detectable.
With this in mind, I head home to find some fresh clothes and smoke a joint. Although I have not eaten for hours I am not hungry which is good because I do not have any food in my fridge. Smoking clears my head a little and I realise I need to calm down so I put a call through to Alvin. Alvin is big and black and speaks with and snobby accent, on the phone, you would never know his African descent. He is a twenty three year old marketing and promotions manager and he lives on the floor above me. Like me, he is a loner, and I am the closest thing he has to a real friend. In fifteen minutes, we are sitting on my balcony together and Alvin is rolling a splif while he talks.
"Profits are up this month, Jake, so the Christmas bonus was good, although I suppose they could have done better." I let him talk about nothing and I am glad to hear his meaningless banter.
"It is a business, though," he continues, "and you don't get rich by giving away money." I roll my eyes but Alvin does not see: he is squinting at his fingers, trying, as always, to roll the perfect joint. He stays until a little after lunch, smoking weed and drinking beer and sweating non-stop in the hot summer sun. I do not tell him about how the addict stabbed me or about Amy or about anything that matters. He asks how my parents are and I tell him. We are talking about whether Australia will win a game in the Soccer World cup when suddenly he gets up, knocking an empty bottle from my sixth story balcony.
"Shit," he says, frothing at the mouth a little, "I have a bloody meeting in half an hour." Alvin can barely stand, and has been assuring me that not only will Australia win a game but has "a fifty-fifty chance of making the final," so I find the idea of him at a table of high powered advertising executives very amusing. I begin to laugh and he looks at me, considers the situation for a minute and then lets out a giggle. "Niggers like me don't get stoned," he says, and promptly stumbles out the door. Within minutes I am sleeping. When I awake it is dark and my skin is red and sore from hours in the unrelenting sun.
User Reviews
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-03-07 09:46:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
More please.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-01-26 13:34:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2006-01-04 08:56:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
been meaning to get back to this for a while
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2005-12-20 12:00:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
do guys really get embarrassed from sporting wood?
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2005-12-18 23:54:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-12-18 12:45:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ok, the story is actually starting to move along now. That is good.
Submitted by MrSparkle847 (user info) at 2005-12-18 08:06:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Keep at it.
Submitted by Despiadado (user info) at 2005-12-18 07:17:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Formatttttttttting please.
Submitted by jagmcmanus (user info) at 2005-12-18 02:16:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jeveuxgagner (user info) at 2005-12-18 02:12:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I am very very sorry if the picture is NSFW!!!