Rushed
If you’re looking for the truth, you’ve come to the wrong place. The local tavern, Pete’s Round Hound House, is a bar filled with lookers that have nothing to look at. Everyone there is hiding something. I could tell just by looking at some of the boys in the corner that they had just gone and done something cruel, and the two girlfriends on the edge of the bar are trying to look lesbian just to keep the creeps on the other end from thinking that they are being called over. I take my time and work through the crowd of sexual merchants looking for their one deal that is going to send them home with a good business partner. I discover an onlooker gazing into my general direction, but I’m uncertain she is looking over at me, and I take a glance over my shoulder and find nobody else there. As I stare back she is looking back towards the bar. I raise my shoulders and loosen my arms a bit and walk over to her. Her rich wavy brown hair is captivating, and buoyant, and from my first glimpse it appears her eyes were blue. I walk up behind her, my heart starts to increase in pressure as I reach out to tap her on the shoulder. I am already in hot water because I know the shoulder tap is going to have to bring up the possible fact that she was looking over at me, which is just an awkward reason to introduce yourself to someone. “A simple glance over at someone and that justifies my approach to talk to her?” I say in my head, “ I look at people all the time outside of bars and it never means that, but in here. There is no sense of truth here, just lies and skewed images of society.” The person sitting next to her gets up with their drink in hand, my game completely changes. “Oh thank god!” I say to myself. My hand was almost about to touch her too. It would have been a difficult introduction, but now I know I can simply approach the bar and order a drink skewing the reality that I actually noticed her looking at me.
The question still remains, was she really looking at me or at somebody else? I take my seat next to her. She takes a glimpse at me and looks back down at the bar. I then turn to her and introduce myself, “Hello. My name is Damon.” she gives me a smirk with her silky lips, “I’m Chandra.” she says. I can smell her perfume, which smells like a meadow and makes my heart skip just a little inside, “Can I get you a Redman?” I ask. “Certainly.” she replies. She takes her hand and runs it through her hair. I discover a look in her eye, something was not right and I had no idea what at the moment. She then asks me, “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that for?” I keep staring into her eyes, mystified by her look she was giving me. She begins to say something, but my ears go deaf and all I hear is the loud heavy rock music that drones out the bar. Her lips keep saying though, “What? What is it?” and I can’t answer back. The next thing I notice is that hand is coming over to slap me in the face. Her hand knocks me off the chair. “Ugh that felt like a wrecking ball against my face!” I said in my head. As I start to get back up I feel a pressure on my legs and then my shoulders, it’s Chandra and she is on top of me. She slays in another huge slap across my face. I can feel the pinch of a small cut across my left cheek as I try to get up. Chandra grabs my cheeks with her hands and lays her lips into mine. She kisses so softly it tingles my lips as she pulls away. It is like a cruel tease, her kiss, going in and giving me a pleasure that I have never felt before, but then also lifting her lips so softly that it leaves my mouth in a tingly fashion. However, at this point in time my head is rushing, I don’t understand what is going on, and before I could figure it out Chandra is taking off her shirt. I got a quick shot at her beautiful breasts, but she pushed my head back on the floor of the bar and started to suck my neck. I look up around the bar to see if anybody notices what is going on. A few people were taking quick glimpses, but nobody was staring or trying to pay much attention to our incredibly promiscuous behavior. She grabbed my face with one hand again and lifted my torso off the ground and back into her lips. “I’m not resisting this anymore, nor am I going to try and understand it.” I thought to myself.
We went at it. Right there in the bar, with the people taking glimpses. Then the people around us later came over and hovered around us while I was getting busy in the middle of it. It was the most incredible sex of my life, and I did not care at all about the people staring, and surprisingly she did not either. The crowd was cheering us on and on as we did it. I was resisting any challenging thoughts to this unprecedented turn of events, and was only focusing on this sweaty pleasuring sex. When I came I broke the rules and came inside her, and she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. She could see the look in my eyes which then she figured out I was done, but she still grabbed me with her hand again by my cheeks and kissed me on the lips. My body was beginning to feel the pains and aches from the activity that had just taken place on the hardwood floor. My butt, my back, my shoulders, my cheeks; all were sore from having sex on the hard linoleum floor. It’s as though I had just been taken down by a large cat and forced to undergo the ugly mauling that would lead to my demise. After we got our clothes back on, the bar tender gave us two pitchers of beer. All that happened later I do not remember.
When I awoke the next morning I could see the suns rays passing over me into my eyes. I squinted, and then remembered a glimpse of my evening all wrapped up in a mind blasting hangover. I was in my bed at my apartment trying to figure out what occurred the night before, yet nothing was coming to my head. I found out what happened after I took the pitcher of beer that night when I stepped into the bathroom. I lifted the collar of my t-shirt down and counted the hickeys on my neck. There were 8. “My God.” I whispered. I pulled my pants down to use the toilet and the next thing I notice is a tattoo on my penis and that area right above it. It is a message that requires some serious thought to read it because I can’t see it very well. I reach over and grab a stool and step up on it to see into the mirror. I thought about what it said for a few minutes before I could figure it out. The words are backwards in the mirror making the challenge of my hangover head that much more complicated. The tattoo reads, “Property of Chandra Bakes, 555-678-2134”.
At first I was baffled because it did not make any sense at to why she would waste her time with such a thing. I paused for a moment and let out a small chuckle only thinking light of the situation. “How ridiculous must have the procedure been to get this?” I thought to myself, “ The guy had to stare at my dick for at least an hour” I laughed a little harder, not taking into consideration that it was a tattoo and that it was on a place that every girl for the rest of my life will see. I instinctively tried to rinse water over it and lightly scrub it off. To my own dumbfounded surprise that the tattoo was not coming off. I got scared so I panicked. I started to scrub harder, but that just made it hurt more. For some odd reason the definition and physical properties of a tattoo besieged me. I had no idea what to do. I thought about surgery, and my life to come after this. It almost seemed as though my life was almost over. “Where the hell would I go after this? My penis has a freakin tattoo of another girl’s name on it!” I screamed in my head. Sweat was gushing down my face and the blood was pounding on my brain as reality was suddenly hitting me over the head with a sledge hammer. “Oh yeah this headache.” I remembered. Tears were forming in my eyes and the screams of my own stupidity were getting louder. I stretched my arms out and fell face first onto my bed letting everything go. I laid there thinking about my next move as I soaked the sheets with sweat and tears.
The number popped into my head. “oh gosh I don’t even remember it even though it’s going to be on there for the rest of my life.” I thought. “How pathetic is that? I can’t even remember a stupid number?” Instead of getting depressed it was better to get angry, so I got angry at this woman. “I knew Chandra for at least an hour before I blacked out, what the hell did I do to her?” I was feeding a fire that I was hoping would lead me to clues. “She wanted the sex, I thought. Maybe she wants me to call her? Maybe she wants me to be with her.” These thoughts relaxed me, but I was still getting enraged because this tattoo was not going anywhere.
The decision to call was intense because I had no idea what to say to this girl. There was nothing. I certainly hated her for doing this to me, but then again I was feeling this great sense of need to keep her around. I did not want to piss her off because there were answers I needed from her. There was my tablet book on the side table in my living room next to the phone. I began to make a list of what questions I wanted to ask. “This is harder than I thought it would be.” I said to myself. I kept thinking of being honest, but then being honest was awful because she would think I would be some loser. The insecurity I had was immense. I really wanted her to like me because I hated this tattoo and I would hate it even more if I had no chance to ever get with the girl who gave it to me in the first place. I thought about being with this girl for a very long time. She was pretty hot and that was really awesome sex, so I would not mind that, so the main concern was losing her. Even though I was a very mad at her for placing me into this situation.
I completed the list and walked around a few times thinking about the first few thing I was going to say to her. I then picked up the phone in my hand. I was nervous, but when I reached for the dial I became baffled. “Oh right it’s down there.” I laughed again. I hopped around the room trying to tilt my head in the right fashion to read the number. At first I thought I could just unbutton my pants slightly and then I could read it. But then I realized I had to pull them down all the way. “Oh wow this isn’t annoying.” I said sarcastically. “Oh I like this woman already, shes got me taking my pants off and she doesn’t even have to be here.” This time I got smart and wrote down the number on a piece of paper. I then dialed the number into the phone while pulling my pants up. I picked up the list and the second I heard the phone ring I crumpled the list and threw it over at the other end of the room. The thought of my future was looming around in my head, and it was grim either way. I got the machine. “Aw. The stupid machine. I never prepared for the machine! Great!” As I was about to hang up the phone the message plays. I decide to hear just to answer my curiosity. It wasn’t a machine any longer, it was the Round Hound House bar that I was at. I get the owner of the bar on the phone, “Yeah? Who is this?” the bar tender asks. “I’m not sure why she would out this guy’s number on my dick, this is looking to be more harsh than it already is.” I thought. I tried not to get carried away with the tattoo being permanent that was only screwing me over. Apparently the bar tender laughed when he found out who I was. He told me that her was about to file a lawsuit, but we drew such a great crowed the next night it was well worth it. I felt bad, and worse used by some show. This drunken idea has turned the tables on me for my whole life.
I asked the bar tender for Chandra’s number. He was a bit hesitant because he didn’t know who she was, but he did have a number. I told him that she was the one I was having sex with. The phone paused for a minute and apparently he was holding his hand over the bottom half to keep me from hearing him laugh and kid around with his buddies. I could not tell what exactly they were laughing about . I got a hint that this was not the first time thing Chandra had done at this particular bar. Once I got her number I immediately punched it in and hung up in mid conversation with the bar tender. I frantically dialed and waited, twisting the phone chord around my finger and walking back and forth frantically.
She answered and laughed when she heard my name. “Why are you laughing” I thought to myself. I calmly asked her about that night. She told me she did not remember a thing and that I was being wild. I chuckled and said “Well actually we were being wild.”,
“Ooh, baby!” She replied
“I said well yeah, and you or I or well something happened last night, and I end up with this tattoo on my penis. I would like to know why.” I told her flat out, which felt good until…
“Well you see my name’s not Chandra, it’s Emily, and I was the one who tattooed you last night. Now Chandra, shes the one who had sex with you, and she said you two were like animals at the zoo.”
Out of frustration I angrily asked, “Well put her on the phone! Please.”
Chandra took the phone. “Hey sweetums! I heard you had a little winkie trouble last night.”
“No last night was fun today I have winkie trouble” I responded in a angry manor.
“ Well I just wanted you to remember me no hard feelings champ.”
The phone went silent…she hung up.