Faux

The first thing I noticed was the emptiness of the room. A painting struggled in vain to cover the bareness, while two orchids in full bloom stood out in the gloom. He had recently moved in, he said. That explained it.

I continued to gaze about the room as he led me upstairs. I was amazed to find out that his apartment had not one, not two, but three levels. And he lived alone. I always loved seeing other people’s houses. While others focused on the inhabitants to know them better, I knew that I could know discern much more from their physical environment.

As we went up the stairs, I knew that he was looking at me. He had no idea who I was. It was a silent journey from my place to his, and we had talked for only 10 minutes an hour before. He saw a 20 year old college student from Miami. I looked back at him with my 17 year old eyes and managed a smile. He opened the door to his bedroom, made of standard issue mahogany.

As he began to undress me in his bedroom, I could not help but notice that the shades on his bedroom window were the same ones that I had seen on some home improvement show. The light from the hallway filtered underneath the door as he ran his hands over my back. I reflexively stroked his shoulders and back as I noticed over his shoulder a contraption next to his bed. My first thought was of an enema machine. Kinky.

“It’s my breathing machine. “

He explained that it was a device he used while he was sleeping. He was suffering from a condition that rendered him helpless while he slept. He explained the details as he fondled my nipples. My eyes were on the bottle of prescription pills on his dresser made of synthetically-aged mahogany. Doubts began to form.

My body again worked on reflex as my hands began to respond to his touches, gropes, and he was responding in kind to mine. The human warmth offered some comfort in this cold room, the white fluorescent light offering no comfort of its own.

Our clothes began to pile on the ceramic-tiled floor as he once again led me, this time to his bathroom, which was connected to his room.

The scattered bottles of aesthetic products and even more prescription pill bottles around his sink betrayed his faux pretense at order. He directed me into his bathtub/shower, where he proceeded to later himself up, and I found comfort at last under the warm water cascading upon us, the steam providing its own comfort.

The ‘hot shower scene’ proceeded without a hitch, punctuated by obligatory kisses of faux interest and pity on my side. And he lapped it up like a dog.

Later on his bed, he confessed that he liked me. I shrugged, nodding in response. All I wanted to do was to get it over with as soon as possible. I let him finish me off as soon as possible, that put one hurdle away.

“Do you have protection?”

“Of course, silly.”

It was painful at first, but I finally reached the mental state where nothing mattered. I looked up at the white ceiling, and just stared as my body was violated. An occasional grunt served to encourage this. I was the rag doll. And soon it will be over.

Soon this was over, and I lay as he cleaned us both up. All I wanted was the warmth of my own clothes. I lay there motionless, a hollow feeling stirred in myself.

“How was it?”

He asked as he began to dress himself.

“It was fine”

I dressed in record time.

In his new kitchen, he offered me a diet soda. That was all he had. The soda tasted bitter on my tongue, as I tried to make small-talk. He went off on a long explanation about things, but I didn’t listen. I was looking at the model of refrigerator he was using. Much too big for one person, I thought.

“Are you alright?”

I was feeling very hollow.

“Yeah. Just tired. It is 3AM after all.”

I threw my half-empty can of diet soda into the grey trash bin as we proceeded to leave. I could not believe that I used to drink that slop when I was a kid. I silently said goodbye to the misplaced orchids, and gave one last look at the abode of another showcase of the gallery of life. I liked to think of it that way.

The ride back was silent, except for his sharing of his own life story. I feigned interest. I already knew enough. This was an older man trying to share his wisdom with a child. Like a child I ignored them.

We finally stopped outside the gate of my own little enclosure.

“Well, I hope I see you again, you silly goose.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And the hollowness enveloped me.