Part 35 (1/2)

Refereeing, in fact.

No need to be rude to our guest. He's here by invitation. Understand?

”Invi-” Carl wants me to be with this creep?

What happened to our ”exclusive relations.h.i.+p”?

”No, I don't understand.”

With fine diamond clarity, Carl explains, I enjoy a bit of variety from time to time. I expect your whole- hearted partic.i.p.ation.

He pushes me, and not gently, toward Brett.

Now apologize to my friend as I hope you would apologize to me.

He Does Not Mean With words. And he doesn't exactly mean solo. They move in unison, and I am sandwiched between them, Carl behind me, moving sensuously, while Brett dares kiss me again. I hold my breath against the a.s.sault of gin at my back, tequila in my face. A strange tongue in my mouth. Now Brett rests his chin on my shoulder, and he and Carl are kissing.

It's a cobra dance, and despite what it means, I am charmed.

Seduced by sensual motion.

Behind me and in front of me, both men grow hard, and for some horrifying reason, I respond in like manner.

I Have Never Considered Three-way s.e.x. How would....?

Oh. No way will I let one of them take me like that.

Like Loren, Carl has always played the feminine role.

But unlike with Loren (who insisted on using condoms), with Carl (who refused to), I set limits-”Carl, you know the rule.” My rule: hands or mouths only. He stops kissing Brett, but neither man quits moving, writhing like mating hooded serpents.

We're playing by my rules, remember? But don't worry.

I only expect you to give.

For now. From somewhere, he extracts a condom, hands it to me, keys to the kingdom.

Don't rush, he orders, and don't you dare close your eyes. I want to see how much you like it. He moves in front of me, strips Brett from the waist down, pushes him onto his hands and knees. Then he drops his own trousers.

Come on, he urges, positioning himself inches from Brett's face.

Shaking, I move behind Brett, grab his shoulders. Carl's hands cover mine. Brett moans as I ...

Oh my G.o.d! I am d.a.m.ned.

But I don't stop and I don't rush. Carl's eyes never once leave mine. Finally I beg his permission. ”Now? Please?”

He nods and I do. We all do.

A Poem by Whitney Lang Don't Stop Don't look behind you.

Something is chasing you, and if you slow down, it will catch you. Run!

Faster! Through alleys.

Tunnels. Underground.

Down there in that dark place, fear is your friend for complacency kills down where instinct is survival.

Reach. Find your wings.

Fly away from the monsters, hard on your heels.

Don't stop. Only then can they win.

Run!

Whitney

Fighting ”Night Time”

Pretty name for the hideous pukes and soaking sweats of withdrawal.

I understand I have to go through it.

Die if I don't. Maybe die if I do.

I don't want to die. Do I? f.u.c.k, what if it's better than living half in, half out of this world? G.o.dd.a.m.n Bryn!

b.a.s.t.a.r.d turned me into a zombie.

So why do I sit here, crying to see him? Why do I love him so much?

He cheats. Lies. Lied about everything, from start to now. I know it. Don't care.

I want to be with him. Want to make love with him. Even though that means waiting my turn. He has other girls.

Other zombies. Killing time in cheap rooms like this one. Sometimes he comes, rewards them like he rewards me, with junk and beautiful s.e.x. Sometimes other men come. That s.e.x is never beautiful. It is selfish. Needful.

Fueled by sick desire to get off. Get even. Get over someone who has hurt them by symbolically impaling someone else. So Bryn's zombie girls stay stoned. Out of our heads messed up. Eyes closed, we can be anywhere. Italy. France. Australia.

Jupiter. h.e.l.l. Doesn't matter, as long as we're not here. As long as we can pretend we're still pretty. As long as we can make believe Bryn still loves us, too.

I'm Not Stupid I know I'm addicted. d.a.m.n it all, despite the many promises I made to myself, I mainline now. A needle in the vein delivers Nirvana so quickly! And in those first few minutes, when all the pain is lifted, I see what Bryn saw in me that first day at the mall-naivete. I was stupid.

He knew it. I was crazy hungry to fall in love. He saw it in my eyes.