A section from deep in the second half of Royal Astronomy.

“Definitely, definitely, definitely,” I say.  But I don’t recall what I am agreeing with.  Alexander rises somewhat unsteadily to his feet and lurches at the bar in Hush.  It is again fourish in the morning and again I am drinking drinking drinking and again I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing here.  Well, I’m getting drunk, aren’t I?  Alexander returns from the bar with two large whiskeys and two young ladies.  One of whom is Sally.
“Look what I found, Marcus.”  He effuses.  “It’s Sally and Gayle.  D’you remember Sally and Gayle?  From Mario’s party?  D’you remember?”  he has a lascivious look in his eye and I know that he’s thinking I won’t tell if you won’t tell, because that’s what I’m thinking.  That evil, lascivious look mirrors mine.  I am a weak and bad person.  No.  No I’m not, that’s just the liquor talking.  I’m just a man.  I’m just the same as anyone else, everyone else.  And so it goes…
“Hello, Marc.  Where have you and Zan been tonight?”
“Just out.  Y’know.”  Gayle and Alexander are sitting on one sofa talking.  I’m in an armchair and Sally, after kissing me on one cheek, perches herself on a stool near me and leans in.  She is wearing… she looks good.  Alexander has slipped his arm around Gayle and is no doubt slurring sweet nothings into shell-like.  I’m talking to Sally but I’m imagining her naked, sitting on top of me, her head thrown back and her long, black hair hanging down her spine.  God damn me.  god damn everything.  That momentary lapse of reason flashes back to haunt me and I can see it happening again.
Later.  Half fiveish.  Sally is in my armchair with me and we’re cosied up.  We’ve been talking and drinking.  She’s been doing most of the talking and I’ve been doing most of the drinking. Whatever.
“Every time I see you you’re wrecked.”  She laughs.  I laugh too but it’s not really funny, it’s pathetically true.  “I’ve got some coke, if you want to straighten yourself out a bit.”  No no no.  I hate cocaine and I hate everyone who takes cocaine.  What’s your name?  Where are you from?  Lovely part of the country.  What’s your name?  Where are you from?  Lovely part of the country.  If I wanted to be a game show host I would have become one.
“Yeah, that’d be cool, man.”  Like some sort of cunt I follow her into the toilets.  In the cubicle she cuts out a line on her compact mirror, she holds the mirror and a twenty pound note out to me and her eyes are so wide and child-like.  Greedily I devour it and hand it back.  She takes a line herself and I find the way she tucks her hair behind her ear first incredibly sexy… she passes me a second line with which I treat the other nostril.  I turn to leave and feel a hand on my arse.
“Where is she tonight?”
“Home.”
“Shame for her.  She’s missing out on all the fun.  You should wear tighter jeans.”  She purrs into my ear.  A hand snakes down the front of my trousers.  “I wonder what you fuck like straight?”  She asks, undoing my belt.
“Badly.”  She laughs at this and drops to her knees.  She looks up at me, all cheekbones and dilated pupils.
“Coke makes me really horny.  I just can’t control myself.”  She takes me in her mouth and I should say stop but it’s really, really good.  Wet and hot and tonguey.  I look down and see my shaft glistening, saliva dripping from her mouth down her chin and onto the floor.  It turns me on.  I pull her up and she hitches her dress up and steps out of her knickers.  Leaning against the partition wall she says:
“Fuck me.”
And I ease myself inside.
“No one will ever know.”  And I feel awful and amazing.  Once inside her I flash back to Mario’s apartment.  Yes, I am a monster and I wish I could justify this to myself.  Alice would never do this, I know.  I am a bad person.  I am about to cum and I tell her.  She pulls me out and finishes me with her right hand into the palm of her left.  She looks me in the eye as she licks it clean.  I picture myself smashing her head off the toilet, but she is not the enemy here.  I am.  I hate her for doing this and as she pulls my face to hers, I hate myself a little bit more. Kissing; she bites my lip, draws blood, and laughs.
“Did you like that?”  I nod dumbly and the coke coursing through my system makes me want to talk.
“I’ve got to see Zan.”  I say and give me another reason to loathe myself.  Zan.

They, Gayle and Alexander, are gone when I get back.  Grinding my jaw I order another large whiskey.  Back in my armchair.  Sally steps out into the bar and looks over at me.  Slips me a wink.  Gets a drink.  Sits on the sofa.  Relaxes and looks all… in control.  She looks over to me again and I feel small and dirty.  I hear her say, where are they?  But I see her lips move all out of sync.  They’ve gone, I hear and it sounds like my voice but I don’t think I said it.  I’ve forgotten saying it already.  Just a memory of the sound.  I take a sip of my drink and just hold it in my mouth until it stops burning.  All of a sudden it’s my saliva.  It stings my bitten lip in a nice way.  Gayle’s been after Zan since Mario’s, I hear.  I presume Sally says it but my eyes aren’t moving at the same speed as my head.  Meaning that when I first heard sounds from her, I turned my head, but by the time my eyes were looking, she had finished.  That’s why I fucked you, so she could have some time with him.  I don’t really believe this because as I remember it, I remember it differently, her coming onto the balcony and talking to me, laying down a seduction.  Still thinking this I realise she’s been speaking, something about I enjoyed being with you, though.  I mean, you’re good… for someone so fucked.  I’d love to fuck you sober one day.  Are you sober ever?  This coke is really, like, smacky.  More like Special K.  How the fuck do you confuse the two of them?  Maybe she’s just trying to make me impressionable?  Listen, come back to mine tonight.  Or I could come back to yours.  We could wake up together this time.  We could sober straight fuck straight.  I don’t know who said that.  Me or her.  But we go back to hers.  My brain feels like a broken mirror in the taxi.  We could I suppose have I suppose gotten a bus because it’s now so late now, that it’s early really.

Her flat is… a flat.  Fuck.  I don’t know anymore.  Star.  Ting.  To.  Die.  Starting to die.  Fuck.


Submitted: December 29, 2008

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