Dissonance RA

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A part that sits almost exactly midway through Royal Astronomy.

Dissonance

I feel perhaps a little perhaps too old for this.  It is five or six on a Sunday morning after a night of serious drinking, and Alexander and I are back at some stranger’s luxury apartment.  I am in love with my own flat but this is an apartment.  Views across the city, floor to ceiling windows, a little bit eighties, the whole shooting match.  Beautiful.  I don’t even know how we came to be here.  I certainly don’t know anyone who would live in a place like this.  Who would live in a place like this?  Of the twenty or so people here the only person I know more than by sight is my friend, Al.  I’m finding it hard to focus on the beautiful people floating in and out of my field of vision.  I realise on looking around the room that the person I’ve been speaking to for twenty minutes or so is just the memory of where Al was.  This is slightly disconcerting as I am sure we were having a conversation rather than just me talking at him.  I assume that the booze, vicodin and coke (fucking hate cocaine, fucking hate people who take cocaine) are all contributing to my state.  I’m not used to this.  Not at all.  For the past five or six years all I’ve done is drink and smoke, but tonight I am almost the old me again.  A bit of a wreck.  A person I most definitely do not want to be.  I go outside onto the roof garden and sit on a bench overlooking the south side of the city.  In a half arsed sort of way I’m kind of looking for Alice’s house.
“Go on, go out.  Enjoy yourself.”  She insisted.  “Just don’t do anything stupid.”  There was a smile playing on her lips as she said this, as if she wasn’t expecting me to do anything stupid.  You know, not in real life.  Well, Alice sweetheart, I’ve let you down once this evening and there is a second let down in the offing, I’m sure of it.  I was at Alice’s trying to nurse her back to health, which is to say that I was following her instructions to the letter and trying not to kill her, when my phone rang.  Al.  Out.  She persuaded me.  But really, honestly, I would rather be at her house, looking after her.  She is unwell.  Aren’t we all?  Blah, blah, blah.

My blank eyes gaze an unblinking thousand-yard stare across the city.
“Hello.”  Says a throaty voice to my left.
“Mmm.  Hi.”  Look around and focus on a tall pale girl in a spray-on-tight black halter-top, what you’d call bone-tight, and very low cut hipster jeans.
I say, “Hi.”
She says, “Do I know you?”
I say, “Um.  No um.  Why?”
She says, “You look familiar.”
I say, “I’m not familiar.”
She says, “Can I sit here?”
I say, “Yeah.”
And we fuck.  Not just like that, but I wanted to dispel any tension that may have been building up.  I am that weak a person.

We have a long conversation that I don’t really recall and she gives me two ecstasy tablets, which I know I shouldn’t take, but I double drop anyway.  Eight in the morning sits us in a vast bedroom with the door locked for some privacy – my idea.  Again she tells me her name and again I forget it.  The conversation is wandering, wondering, and these drugs are making my words sappy.  I’m not sure what even it is that I want to say.  I have run out of words.  She lays back on the bed and I’m pacing the room looking around myself, entertaining the thought that I have seen to many things in my life.  She crawls under the duvet and I stand over by the window and look out, this time across the north side of the city.  I know that there are things happening and there are people at work or on their way to work.  I hear the softest of soft thuds.  I turn around and see her halter-neck top and jeans on the floor.  Despite the drugs, I feel my cock stiffen, and I imagine fucking her.
“Can I get in?”  I ask with unwholesome desires racing through my mind.
“Of course you can.”  She looks around at me and flicks the duvet so the empty part of the bed is uncovered.  I can see her right hand side from here and I can see she is braless and I can see that she is wearing a black g-string.  I disrobe completely and slide in next to her.  I get close and am very aware of my erection pressing against her arse.  Wordlessly she rolls onto me and is sitting up on top of me, straddling me, and she must’ve removed her knickers at some point because I realise that I’m inside her and she is moving, gently at first, then violently bucking her hips like sex starved nymphomaniac.  

By eleven o’clock I wake up to the sound of the rain hammering against the window.  She waves goodbye at the door and says, “See ya ‘round, baby.”  I force a grimace and raise a hand.  I wait for ten minutes or so before dragging my wretched, and now battle scarred, frame from the bed, get dressed, and leave.

I am a little disorientated and buzzing from the drugs as I try to find a bus that will take me home.  The drizzle forces me into a café where I get myself a tea, which I sit with and let go cold.  I play my usual game of reading the word café backwards to myself from the window.  My tea looks awful and my stomach resists my minds desire to drink it.  The milk starts to separate and with every move of my body I remember the events just passed.  And when I shut my eyes I can see her, whatever her name is.  I wonder what she is doing now.  I wonder if she is thinking about me.  I wonder what happened to Alexander.  I wonder if I hate myself.


Submitted: November 04, 2008

© Copyright 2022 Heliconx. All rights reserved.

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