Self-Absorbed. Incoherent. Inconceivable.

I miss music. I miss the rhythm of it. The taste of it. The way it makes my skin feel when I’ve had more than two drinks but less than five. I miss the way it bubbles my blood. Making my chest pump. Making my heart run. I miss the way it leads me by the hand, leading me out to the middle of nowhere and lies down with me there; under the twinkling stars, under the velvet sky, under the cheese wheel moon…
It’s quiet here. Lonely. It’s like swimming in a sea of strange faces. Cold faces. Faces that make me miss you even more. That make me walk from bar to bar in search of you. For just a glimpse, for just a peep of you. A smile, an expression…anything.
And then I find you. Well, not you because well, you’re like 200 miles away but still, a pretty damn good substitute. She has the same eyes. The lips are the same too. She’s a little shorter and has a bit more flesh than you but that doesn’t matter. Not much anyway. Not enough to make me stop anyway.
She is standing by the pool table. Chalking her stick. Her back is to me. Leaning over the table, she readies herself to take the shot.
I bite down on my lip. Close my eyes…
We are somewhere else. A place with no windows and no doors. With no ceiling and no floor. We are everywhere and we are nowhere. We are the first and we are the last. We are bound together…she couldn’t have gotten away even if she had wanted to.
We are naked. I am inside her. Slow….Gentle. Then faster. And faster. And harder. And stronger. She is on top. Or I am. I don’t know. Or maybe it’s both. Or maybe we take turns. I don’t care. All I know is that just when I feel as if I can’t take anymore, just as I tell her that I’m about to come, I grab her by the hair and then…and then…
And then she takes the shot. I hear the cue hit the white, which in turn hits the four, sending it spelunking into the corner left pocket.
I open my eyes. The coppery taste of blood on my tongue. She is looking at me. She knows I’m watching her. She knows the game. She pots another one. Then another one. She’s on a roll. She makes the last one without looking. Calls it, even. The game’s over. She hands over the cue. She doesn’t feel like playing any more.
“One drink.” She says as she walks past me towards the bar.
I glance over at the pool table. All the men are staring after her. And then back at me. A little awestruck maybe? A little jealous maybe…?
Maybe.
I turn to face the bar. She is already waiting.
“One drink? One drink is all I need.” I mutter to myself.
I square my shoulders. Clear my throat. Head in her direction…
The days are hot…sweltering. The nights pretty much the same; Buzzing mosquitoes, sweat slicked sheets and the never ending creak, creak, creak of the bed next door…
Damn paper thin guest house walls.
He gets a different one every night. No tastes, no preferences. Tonight’s is big breasted; cute face. I got a quick look at her as he hustled her into his room.
Would I screw her? In a heartbeat. Maybe even pay for it too. I don’t know. I’ve never had to pay for sex before.
She’s a vocal one, Miss Thursday. Won’t shut the hell up. She keeps giving him instructions. Faster. No, slower. No, now from behind. Wait, I want to be on top. Okay, now hit me…
The creaking stops.
“What?”
“I said, hit me.”
“Are you sure?”
“GOD DAMMIT HIT ME!”…