Love Stories from the Wild West End
Does my love life have to be feast or famine? There have been years, absolute years, with no romantic interest on the horizon. A sex life? Hah. That mostly went with the love life. I’m not a natural-born pussy-hound. It takes a lot of smooth talk and alcohol to get me laid. Until recently, anyway.
I haven’t exactly been a monk lately…
To catch everyone up: I have been seeing Rain for a couple years. It’s a FwB scratch-each-others-back relationship. We like each other, a lot, but it never seemed serious. Besides, she has a boyfriend. (That isn’t me.)
There was the Porno Queen, a co-worker and acquaintance in a relationship that dated back twenty years. Mostly friendship, but some sex was involved. I say some, because the two times we almost did it, she asked about the equity in my house and stopped the sex when I told her how small it was. (The equity. THE EQUITY!) I wish I were kidding about this.
I spent the summer casually seeing Clairissa. This was the most grown-up sexual relationship I’ve had. We talked. We enjoyed our time, and stopped while things were still good. Sadly, I don’t see much of her these days. I need a trim.
I’ve been seeing Meg for a couple years now. I met her through the Porno Queen; Meg is her downstairs neighbor. The day we met, we made out like bandits in front of the Porno Queen. (I thought hoped it might turn into a three-way. No such lick luck.) In time, the Porno Queen became jealous of Meg because I spent more time at Meg’s. Porno Queen started vicious rumors. Porno Queen throws a drunken fit, assaulting Meg and her jailbird boyfriend at a party. Jailbird goes back in cage, Porno Queen and Meg are no longer friends. I end up spending the majority of my off-work indoor-time at Meg’s.
When I’m not at Rain’s, that is.
The reason Rain and Meg tolerate each other is because I’m not sleeping with Meg. (Or, to be more accurate, not fucking her on lunch-break.) I walk to Meg’s, kick back on her bed for a few minutes, then walk back to work. When I go to Rain’s, aerobic exercise, yoga and push-ups are involved. And condoms. Always bring condoms. Rain has a boyfriend. So does Meg. (A retired US Marshal, in fact. Yikes.) So it’s complicated, but not really. Sex with Rain, friendly companionship with Meg. I see Meg to horn me up, then go take it out physically on Rain. It’s been working well for me, until Wednesday night.
Then it got complicated.
“We need to talk. We need to have a serious talk.”
It was Rain. She had that ‘I need phone-bill money’ tone to her voice, so I didn’t register alarm.
I called her. She purred, “Honey, come on over, and bring me a beer?”
Woohoo! They should call Hurricane Malt Liquor the panty-dropper. Rain gets in a mood after a 24 oz can…
She popped the top, stuck a straw into the can, took a provocative sip. “I want you to pay my rent. I want you to move in here. I want you to be my sugar daddy. I want you to marry me.”
(The imaginary fellow sitting on the couch in my brain does a spit-take, puts on his fedora and checks his watch. “Gee, look at the time…!”)
“Wow, really?”
I hadn’t seen that coming.
“‘Wow really’? Is that all you got to say? You saying no?”
“No, I haven’t said anything yet. I’m kinda in shock.” I didn’t know what to say.
“Well, I know you have to get back to work, so think about it. Gee, here I am, leaning over this couch with nothing but a tee shirt on. Why, anyone could just walk up behind me and take advantage of me, and who would be there to protect me? My husband!”
Even though we weren’t married, I allowed that I could walk around to her back-forty and make sure everything was okay. It was more than okay. It was fine…
Meg had been waiting all day for me to come over. I texted her, “Wait until you hear what just happened. Need a beer? I do. Drink one for me?”
“Oh-TAY!”
Then… I texted Rain. “I’m sorry life is such a challenge right now. I will help you if I can, but I’m not marriage material. I will always cherish our friendship.” I’d said that to her in person, but wanted to put it in writing. Just in case.
I didn’t hear any more from Rain that night, or the next day. Hmm… Guess that’s over. Shit. I may never get laid again.
I told Meg of my brief engagement, and my presumed lack-of-nookie woes. In an atypically catty voice, Meg said “Oh, she’ll need cigarette money sooner or later. She just didn’t play her cards right.”
I wasn’t so sure.
Due to scheduling conflicts, I had to work all weekend (including a day-shift) at the Mothership. SUCK!!
“If you have to be there at 9 AM, you could spend the night here,” said Meg.
I could have kissed her.
In fact, I did kiss her. “A slumber party? You’re on!”
I made arrangements with my housemates to be gone all night. Bought Meg a jug of rum and a six-pack of beer to keep the mood light. Tucked Cowboys and Aliens and The Hangover Part II in with a pair of gym shorts. Loaded up the combustibles and stashed Meg a space-cucpcake.
We are ready for liftoff!
Meg’s tiny room is perfect for us. I normally lay sideways across her bed, and she sits cross-legged, using my belly for a table while I use her thigh for a hand rest. Seeing the business side of her bed cleared off (for me) took me back a bit. Suddenly things seemed serious. “People could get hurt.” The voice was the little man with the fedora on the couch in my mind.
Unable to sleep, we stayed up until the wee hours. We talked, smoked a bit. Meg did laundry. Finally about 3 AM she said, “I’m gonna put on my jammies and try to sleep. Okay with you?”
“Sure. I have to be to work in a few hours. Might be good to sleep. What jammies are you wearing?” I envisioned her South Park ones, with Cartman yelling “Respect my authori-tie!”
“The Victoria’s Secret one you gave me.”
Really? It was a roadkill slinky tee, found in the back room of the Waterfront store. I’d not yet seen her wear it. She undressed behind her closet door. She had partial blocking, but I could play peekaboo with a nipple here, a buttcheek there. She stepped from behind the door, wearing nothing but the tee shirt. She crawled into bed next to me. A brief check confirmed. Nothing but a tee shirt.
The next couple of hours were a delightful hell. She snuggled up next to me. I drifted in and out of sleep, feeling her soft curves next to me. A leg draped over mine, an uncovered bum inches from my business end. It would be so easy to just slip it in there… No…I must be a gentleman. Damn it.
About an hour before work, Meg got up, lit a cigarette. Went to the fridge, popped a can of beer and chugged about half. Came back to bed and sat next to me.
“I wish I didn’t have to go to work today,” I said. “I am going to be the world’s biggest grump.”
She laid down again, stretched out facing away from me. I rubbed the curve of her hip. “Want a back rub?” I asked.
“Okay…” She went prone. My hand went under her shirt. Soon her shirt was up around her shoulder blades. I worked my way down. I caressed her bum. She jumped in an excited kinda way. Hmm.
“Do you like that?” I rubbed the back of her thigh.
“Yes.”
I nibbled there. She liked that more. I worked my way up, kissing her plumber’s crack, lower spine. She rolled over, the rest of her clothes came off, then mine. About 7:30 AM we said goodbye to the “just friends” category.
She said something that made my day. “Wow, that hasn’t happened in years.”
“What? Somebody going down on you?”
“No. Somebody making me come.” Such an impish smile with it.
“That’s kinda the idea, isn’t it?” I must have been beet-red with pride.
I showered, no longer modest as I came out of the bathroom to chug my can of coffee-energy. Things seemed no different between Meg and I. Thankfully. Hope it holds.
I still felt hungover from lack of sleep and food, but my spirits soared. Dannyboy was happy to see me. “Rough night? You look like heck!”
I looked in the shoplifter-prevention mirror. My nose looked like it was wearing a saddlebag. “Yeah, I’ve been up all night.”
“Oh? Couldn’t sleep?”
“I spent plenty of time in bed. Just not much of it sleeping.” I gave him the mischief-grin.
“Oh of course!” Dannyboy is a born-again Christian. He must toss a bit of guilt and sanctimoniousness my way when it’s in order. No see-yin shall go unnoticed. Hallelujah!
The day dragged on. I was hopping between stores until early afternoon, then cashiering at the Mothership until someone showed up.
About 1 PM, I got a text from Rain. “Why you not answering me? I called twice last night, and texted. You mad about somethin? CALL ME!”
I checked. Sure enough, she had tried calling and texting. I hadn’t heard my phone.
Or wanted to, really.
I texted her my schedule and current whereabouts. Within five minutes she was walking through the door and greeting me with a kiss. She doesn’t usually kiss me.
I made coffee for her, and listened as she entertained my co-workers with tales from her life. (“I see you’ve met my fiance?”) Rain can spin quite a yarn. I love to watch her make up the details as she goes.
She walked me to the Mothership, where the last five hours of my Saturday-hell was to be inflicted. “I’m going home to make you dinner. Come to me when you are done.” It wasn’t an offer, it was a demand.
“I’ll see how I feel at the end of shift. I’m pretty fried right now.”
My mood deteriorated as the hours crawled by. At 5:20 the phone rang. It was Saucy Alfredo. “HI! I am at Gateway! I will be late, but I will be there!”
I’d been expecting Weird Steven to relieve me. “Where are you supposed to be?”
“The Mothership. Like always!”
“So you’re going to be late?”
“Yes…”
“FUCK!” I slammed down the phone. I grimaced at a customer. It was the most I could muster. “Sorry.” I didn’t mean sorry.
At the moment Alfredo was supposed to walk in, Grinder called. “How’s everything going?”
“I’m grouchy as hell, been up since yesterday, and now fucking Alfredo is going to be fucking late! THIS GODDAMN DAY WILL NEVER END, WILL IT?” I didn’t even glance at the customer line. I wanted them to know what was waiting for them if they wanted to push buttons…
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” said Grinder. Bless him! It was the first kind thought I’d had for him all day.
I snapped, crashed and banged through the rest of the shift. At twenty minutes past end of my non-scheduled shift, Grinder and Alfredo walked in. “Go,” said Grinder. “I’ll count you out and take care of things. Thanks for being helpful today.”
I was on the sidewalk before he’d finished the sentence.
I couldn’t deal with Rain’s drama. I was tired beyond belief, and hadn’t ate since the middle of the previous night. I did still have a bit of burnable stress-relief. I called Meg. “Sheriff hasn’t picked you up yet?”
“He’s a marshal, and he’s fucking late. Why?”
“I wanna get stoned.”
“Well, get on over here then!”
She provided safe haven for a few puffs. I yawned. “I’m gonna get home while I’m still awake. Thank you for your most gracious hospitality.” She kissed me and showed me to the door.
I meandered around a bit, puffing discreetly. I caught the trolley up to Psycho Safeway, and bought munchies. I texted Meg: “I bought 3 kinds of meat, 2 kinds of bread, and 2 desserts. Oh, and ice cream! I smoked a bowl at city hall, you see…”
She texted me back: “LOL. Look on the bright side. You got laid. Oh, AND YOU’RE NOT MARRIED!”
“I’m not even horny. Thankyouverymuch.”
“See you when I get back?”
“Count on it…”
