| The disco lights spun rainbows over his head. It was the ecstasy of whoever this warm Italian fellow next to him was, pulsating like a human earthquake, pounding skillfully against his thighs. It was the hypnotic beat. �Maybe I�m stuck in videogame,� he thought. Collin imagined some pasty, sausage fingered, little white kid sitting on his ass smashing the hell out of a controller, clenching his teeth, playing some mind numbing game of fantasy. That proverbial sensation, throbbing pleasure, you don�t get that from an x-box or your play station. The Italian fellow, shakes his greasy hair, sweat speckles Collin�s shirtless chest. The Italian fellow reels Collin in closer to him, grasping his free flesh and melts Collin into his. Zoom out in the dance club, tons of virile men like slimy slugs rubs against each other from all sides. Collin woke up in a stagnant pool two parts sweat, one part mystery fluid. He looked down at his hairless body, examined the purple room he was in. He noted the wicker furniture, leather apparel�everywhere. Heavy breathing drew his attention to his left, that confounded Italian fellow snored next to him curled in fetal position. The faint scent of incense tickled his nostrils. Collin sat up and searched the red shag carpet for a pair of pants. He followed a trail of shed clothing to the beanbag chair and found them. He felt like Hanzel and Gretel following their faithful trail of breadcrumbs, to answers, home, to where he belonged�in pants. The leather slid over his naked lower half. The Italian fellow, creeped up from Collin�s behind (no pun intended). He grabbed Collin�s lose side flesh drawing him in closer like a prize trout. �Hey baby� the fellow purred, caressing Collin�s naked pasty skin with his sun stained hand. Collin didn�t have the faintest idea who this fellow was, or where he came from. He didn�t know where he came from, at the moment, though. Nor did he know where in the hell he was, a time warp perhaps? Collin racked his brain, searched through that built in Rolodex of boy�s names, numbers and address�. He then attempted to recall the previous night, disco lights, sex, drugs, and disco music�no concrete memory seeped into him. It was the usual gap in the synapses in his brain; it was the traffic light flickering red, go or no go? But Collin was used to it, and played coy for the time being. He rubbed his hand on the Italian man�s thigh, stroking upward, playfully sucking on his bottom lip, he was the master at this game. Then he pushed the fellow into the beanbag chair. �I got to go babe� he teased, pulling his white vintage tee shirt over his head. He stood in front of the mirror and admired his fleeting youthful complexion, tugging at his bleached hair. �Bye bye� he finished. The door closed behind him the room disappeared. Scene change. He pulled a blue Nokia phone out of his pants pocket. He hit a few numbers, and listened to the ringing. Phone on ear, Collin exited the modest brownstone that he would know only once entered the hectic streets of New York. The skyscrapers stared down on his disapprovingly, as if they had maintained a list of the mortal sins he has committed in his time. Collin looked back at them and laughed, laugh in the face of fate, and morality. The hordes paid no attention to him caught up in their hopeless causes. Gnawing on their McDonald�s veggie burgers, doing their Jenny Craig diets, urban hypocrites. That�s what cities thrive on, closet sexaholics posing as professionals. Collin had no ideals. It was the nightlife all the time. It was sex; it was disco balls, street lamps and strangers. No ambition, no dreams, failures or victories. More importantly, it was all forgotten in the morning. �Talk� �Hey it�s Collin� �What do you want?� �More X, what have you got?� �I�ll bring it by your place at six.� �What about my question?� Click. Drug dealers like to keep it short. He had been doing business with Collin ever since he was a clean cut fourteen year old on long island. Dennis is thirty now, and his business has gone professional. He first got in it for a little cash, as a pusher, and moved his way up through the drug cartel. Although he was never a user himself, Collin relied on him to get him the pure stuff. Which is a hard thing to come buy in a city enveloped in secrets. Collin walked into star bucks and didn�t acknowledge the all the Zombies sitting in front of their laptops sipping overpriced caffeine delights, (that he himself would soon indulge in). �What can I get for you?� The young man in the green apron implored. �White chocolate mocha� Collin chucked, at a joke that no one told. He always ordered this drink, it was like an orgasm in a paper cup, with a little mermaid printed on the front. Collin continued back down the street, coffee in hand. It was a sunny day in New York City. The sunshine managed to penetrate the city haze. Of course, Collin preferred the mock Shakespearean �artificial night�. He climbed the two flights of stairs past the drug addicts that adorned the stair cases and front lawn, like land gnomes. He stepped over a tattered heroin addict and into his apartment 4A. Collin loved that it was 4A. He felt like he was living in a comic strip, or a cheesy sitcom when the apartment numbers always tended to be something like 4A. After inserting his key he jiggled the handle and sharply kicked open the door. Stagnant smoke puffed out, as if his entire room had been smoking a cigarette. He never opened the windows. And after the soir�e he had the other night, the place was expectedly tainted with the sins of the innocent. Collin was sitting in the shade of a tree in his khaki jacket with fur accents on the collar and sleeves. His blonde hair glinted every now and again, when a ray of sunshine managed to prick his body. He had a bottle of scotch cheesily wrapped in a paper bag. A striking young male with jet black hair, blue eyes all done up in black rectangular framed glasses and a sleek leather jacket. He walked under the tree near Collin. �Couldn�t help but notice you� �Sit down� Collin smoothly replied motioning to a patch of grass next to him. �You waste no time� �I�m Collin, didn�t catch your name� �Jake� �Thirsty?� �Nah� �You get high?� Collin bluntly implored. �I thought you�d never ask man.� Collin led the young man through the park. Fast forward to Collin�s front door. �It�s not Versailles, it�s just home.� �I dig it� Jake replied Collin wondered if Jake needed to be reminded of what year it is. Collin walked in, the apartment looked like it had been ransacked, and it broke the barriers of calling it the �lived in� look. Empty bags lie on the floor, in an elaborate sea of clothing, cigarette butts, bottles, CD�s and bed sheets. A modest four-post bed sat against the black walls, one gold post lamp, and one wood nightstand with a lava lamp globing ooze. Jake made a smart decision not to touch anything, the material was borderline toxic, after all, and if one were to put a piece of litmus paper to the air, Jake was sure it would turn a vibrant red. Collin kicked a mound of clothes over and went into the closet to get some drug paraphernalia. Boys are great for two things, Collin surmised, the sex and the drugs. The fidgety young men had a shared drug habit to mask their insecurities, sexually at least. Jake sat down on the floor Indian style awaiting Collin to finish preparations. He moved from the closet, to the bathroom to a spot right next to Jake on his floor. Collin woke up in his own bed today. Sex and smoke fluttered around all parts of his body like wicked butterflies. He looked at the man next to him lying on his stomach. He was glazed over in sweat like a dunkin doughnut. Collin spun the Rolodex trying to put a name, or a moment to this young fellow�s face. And he came up with nothing. He grabbed his pants from his floor and decided to go for some coffee. Coffee was the equivalent to most people�s cigarettes after sex as a catharsis. A violent pounding woke him from his daydream. A violent pounding broke the heart of the boy in the park, the Italian fellow from the club, and kept the window closed to keep it all together. Locked in his sanctuary, a senseless conglomeration of lies and lust. �Collin, I�m leaving.� �Wait wait� He managed to blurt out, he stumbled over to the chipped white painted door and grabbed the rusted handle. �Here�s the X you wanted.� He dangled a paper bag in front of Collin�s eyes; they lit up like high voltage brown Christmas lights. �I don�t think so.� Collin reached for the bag. �No cash, no drugs� Dennis assured �I�m through with your I.O.U.�s�. Collin grumbled and scampered about his room looking for money. He pulled out his front pockets making Hoover flags of them. He suddenly remembered Jake and the bed. He scurried to the bed and began to tear apart all of the sheets. Mounds of white overtook him. Eureka! He came upon Jake�s black leather wallet, and pulled out a wad of cash. Grinning idiotically, he forked over the money. Dennis held tightly to the bag, counting each dollar carefully, he peeked up every few seconds from his gray hood to make sure Collin didn�t try anything funny. �You�re cool. Here�s your poison.� Dennis handed over the goods. �Nice doing business with you, buddy�. He offered his hand up to Dennis for a shake. �Later man�, the door shut absorbing Dennis� dark countenance. Collin kissed the bag with his pouty lips and placed it safely under his pillow. Collin peeled off his clothes drenched in the day�s transgressions. Once fully nude he turned on the shower and watched the steam billow from behind the blue curtain, like NYC fog, or the fog in his mind, engulfing his nude flesh. He looked up at the sign. It was flashing hypnotically �T OVY LURRY� of course; in the light you could see it was the Groovy Blueberry. It was a hopping nightclub for young New York men, men because, that�s where Collin met his suitors. Plus, Collin had a soft spot for disco music. He breezed right past the body guards. �How you doing� Collin?� the big black security guard asked. �Not bad fellas, not bad.� Collin entered the pulsating room, where it was at least one hundred degrees, all motionless body heat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pill, and swallowed it down dry, he felt it travel through his system and land in his stomach, infecting his mind. The men were everywhere, rubbing against each other, against Collin, shirtless. They were young and virile, some rather effeminate, but all with one agenda, and Collin shared it. He moved into the middle of the dance floor moving gracefully to the pounding beat, he tore off his shirt. A dark Italian fellow drew nearer to him and began dancing next to him, on top of him, inside of him. Collin woke up completely confounded. |
| One Part Mystery Fluid |