In The Pines

My whole body hurts. I don’t remember much about last night, but judging by my difficulty to breathe, this killing headache and the strong taste of liquor in my mouth, I can only assume that there was a lot of coke and whiskey involved. Back to the classics, eh big lad? Shut up.

This is not my bed. Actually, this is not a bed at all, it’s a double mattress on the floor. I fumble through it in search of my phone, but I end up hitting an ashtray, scattering ashes and cigarette butts all around me. Fuck.

The mattressroom is lit by the sunlight coming through the shades, its walls are covered by posters of grunge bands. It seems that I snorted my way back to 1993. I gather some energy to get up and look for my phone. I manage do stand and take my first step, driving my pinky toe straight to the leg of a chair. Well done, mate. I told you to shut up already.

There’s a record player on the desk with Nirvana’s Nevermind still turning on the table, the sleeve lies right next to it with a rolled 50 euros note on it, that I quickly grab and put in the pocket of my trousers, still on the floor, before putting them on. Who lives here? Don’t you remember? Well, do you? No. So, again, shut the fuck up.

I finally find my phone underneath the sleeve along with my wallet and my lighter. All the essentials. The phone still has a little bit of battery, but no service. Feeling lucky, big lad? I’m ignoring you.

As I reach up with my phone looking for service, the door opens, flooding the room and my eyes with light, making my head explode inside.

“Turn off the sun, will ye?” I say to the silhouette standing on the door. She laughs. Well, at least it’s a she.

“Better now?” She asks after closing the door behind her and before kissing me.

Much better, love.

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up!” I accidentally yell.

She looks at me for a moment, I think of something to say. Any excuse would do.

“Shutting up, sir.” She finally says, kissing my neck and going down my torso.

What about the answers? Who is she? Where are we? How did we meet?

“Fuck the answers.”

“Uuuhm.” She moans in agreement with my cock inside her mouth.

I bet now you really are feeling lucky, big lad.

Related posts:

Don Petrille was elected president of the Register of Wills and Clerks of the Orphans’ Court Association of Pennsylvania Bucks County Register of Wills Don Petrille was elected as the president of…

Almost now every person tired with their routine and living in a stressful environment which is killing their productivity. As most of the people think that hardworking is compulsory for success and…

To quote Paul Bove in the chapter on “Discourse” in Critical Terms for Literary Study, discourses “produce knowledge about humans and their society,” and an analysis of discourse aims to “describe…