I patrol my cramped studio apartment, looking for anything out of place. This doesn't take long as my possessions are few. A frameless futon mattress sharing tatami mats with a shin-high table. The table is flanked with sitting pillows instead of chairs. On the wall is a matted album cover signed by Ella Fitzgerald, next to a razor-sharp antique samurai sword. Everything looks neat and orderly except for a manila envelope Val sent me and loose items emptied from my pockets sitting on the table: change, some business cards, et cetera.
Plenty of time to kill, so I pull photos of Val’s tanned ass from the envelope, toss the envelope on top of the other items on the table and jerk off. I take a quick shower and butcher my face scraping the stubble with a dull disposable razor. After a toilet paper patch job, I change, I grab my car key off the unusual spot on the coffee table…except it is not there. NO! I don’t have to look for the key. I know exactly where it is.
I am a serious douche. Never bothered to get a keychain for my apartment and piece of shit car. Figured what’s the point, I only have two fucking keys right?
Clock says I have an hour and a half to get to the airport. I call a cab.
Walking down the hallway, I pass Kazuhiko struggling to read the paper on his front door. “It’s a 3 day pay or quit eviction notice, bro.” He doesn’t respond, enters his apartment, and shuts the door without bothering to remove the warning. His house music chases me down the hallway as I leave the building. I see my rusted out 260x. Key in the ignition.
Where the fuck is that taxi?
Looking in my wallet, I have 37 dollars. I have no idea if that will be enough to get me there, let alone leave a tip. The ATM is eight blocks away, and I contemplate if I can make it there and back before the taxi gets here. I decide not to risk it.
Just as I am more than half considering breaking the window with an abandoned shopping cart, the taxi pulls up.
“Where you headed?”
“LAX…international arrivals…Lufthansa. What time is it?”
"4:30"
“Fuck.”
“What time you gotta be there?”
“Plane arrives at 5:15, but she’s gotta go through customs.”
The cabbie, offended that I would treat a young lady this way by showing up late, scolds me for being a fuckup and pulls off faster than anyone other than a hack could get away with. Fucking with the CB radio, chugging a Slurpee and smoking, his hands and eyes are everywhere but the wheel or the road. The dollars tick by on the meter. $7 and we've barely gone a few blocks.
When we finally arrive at the terminal, I have just enough to pay, and tip the cabbie a couple of bucks. I gotta get to an ATM to pay for the trip home. Least of my concerns, as I am 30 minutes late.
When I finally get to the arrivals, there is a tall Eurasian girl with chiseled cheekbones and long black hair surrounded by drooling idiots, some of them LAX employees.
Valerie.
In a thick Dutch accent: “You’re lucky I don’t go home with that cute security guy.”
“I’m sorry. Locked my keys in the car.”
Changing on a dime: “Never mind. I missed you! Take me home…I want to fuck.”
* * * * *
I open the door to my place and let her in. I excuse myself to the bathroom to take a piss.
FUCK! I left Veronica Hart’s card on the table! How am I going to explain that?
I decide to fess up.
Sitting on my bed, Vanessa is holding the card.
“What’s a VCA?”
“Video Company of America. It’s a porn studio. I uh…tried porn.”
“How did it go?”
“It didn’t. I failed.”
“LOL!”
“I’m glad you think that’s funny.”
“Why don’t you try again?”
I am under the hot lights, fighting to catch my breath through thick smoke pumped in for atmosphere. Sweat stings my eyes as strobe lights do their damnedest to provoke a seizure. The cameraman positioned under my balls is telling me to stroke my cock with my right hand, not my left, because I am blocking the shot of the contract girl. Heart beating like a trip hammer, I feel the eyes of the background extras on my shriveled woodless cock.
Laughter.
“No fucking way.”
“We could do it together! Come on! It will be fun!”
“There was nothing fun about it. Besides, there is no fucking way anyone would hire me again. I probably cost the studio $15,000 easy.”
“Awww. I’ll make you feel better. Got anything to drink?”
I leave for the kitchen to make us screwdrivers. When I return, Valerie is wearing nothing but boy shorts. Handing her a drink, I am overwhelmed with nervousness.
I make love to her.
Poorly.
A bottle and a half of Stoli later, we are buzzed and hungry so I order Thai food. Just as I am about to nod off, there is a knock on the door. Valerie sprints naked to answer it. The poor delivery kid would have forgotten to take the money if it weren’t for her shoving it in his hand.
More drinks.
Valerie, still naked, grabs my antique samurai sword off its place on the wall and starts swinging it wildly. She stalks toward me.
“You put your dick in another woman? I should cut it off right now!”
“I didn’t! I couldn’t do it!”
Stalking closer: “SHUT UP! That’s not the fucking point!”
Back to the wall and sword at my cock, I fight back the compulsion to cry like a bitch.
I lose.
“Please! For fuck sake! Put the sword down…I’m SORRY!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I’m just fucking with you!”
This girl is fucking nuts!
Dropping the sword on my tatami mat, she strokes my cock. I am hard instantly.
“I want to try something. Lay on the edge of the bed.”
I obey.
She starts blowing me, rimming me alternately. I drift in pleasure.
What the fuck!?!?
While blowing me, she inserts her finger in my asshole! I surprise no one more than myself when I don’t stop her.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Happy birthday, beautiful old man!”
The clock next to my bed reads 12:20am.
It’s November 11.
I am now 30 years old.
* * * * *
Returning to bed with refreshed drinks, Valerie is picking over the remains of the Thai food. I join her.
We take a break from the drinking and fucking to absently watch Fatal Attraction on video.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” I lie.
Reality is, she is way out of my league. We both know it. I first saw Val's picture on AOL's People Connection. Like a million other loser sperm racing toward the egg, I sent her a message. I don't know what was more ridiculous; the fact that she had a dating profile to begin with or that she actually responded. I’ve only known her a few months, but I figure I can grow to love her.
“This is one of those moments I wish could last forever,” I say louder than I think.
“Only one way to make that happen. Is there something you want to ask me?”
“I’d be the luckiest man in the world, but we really don’t know each other that well, and don’t you think it would be a good idea to--”
“Stop talking. Ask me to marry you. When I say yes, you say thank you. You fucking loser.”
“Uh…Will you marry me?”
What have I done?!
“YES!!!”
More drinks. Cuddling. I know that if me doing porn and not telling her does not deter her, I really have to lay a lie on her.
3 AM.
“Valerie…wake up.”
“What is it?”
“I’m already married…well…separated…with 3 kids.”
Silence. I expect her to attack me. She doesn’t.
“Don’t you think this is something I should have known before you begged me to marry you?”
She starts sobbing quietly. Yes, she is insane, but she does not deserve having her feelings stepped on. I say nothing. We sit in silence for a few minutes.
After a while, Val takes a swig directly from the bottle and hands it to me. I kill it.
She straddles my lap. We make love again.
I fall asleep.
* * * * *
Kazuhiko’s techno music jars.
Morning.
Valerie is gone.
I’ll never see her again.
Sitting on the tatami with my back to the wall, head pulsing from the hangover and my neighbor’s shitty music, I replay the events from the last 24 hours.
The bed’s bottom sheet is off on one corner, exposing the mattress. Sword on the floor. TV’s got dancing snow. Dead bottles of Stoli. Dried crusty cum on my stomach. My asshole hurts.
Happy fucking birthday.
My apartment smells like balls and cunt. Maybe I’ll give this porn thing another go. I need fresh air.
Merciless sunlight blasts my mostly closed eyelids. I walk to my car, keys still in the ignition. I try the back hatch. It opens.
Plenty of time to kill, so I pull photos of Val’s tanned ass from the envelope, toss the envelope on top of the other items on the table and jerk off. I take a quick shower and butcher my face scraping the stubble with a dull disposable razor. After a toilet paper patch job, I change, I grab my car key off the unusual spot on the coffee table…except it is not there. NO! I don’t have to look for the key. I know exactly where it is.
I am a serious douche. Never bothered to get a keychain for my apartment and piece of shit car. Figured what’s the point, I only have two fucking keys right?
Clock says I have an hour and a half to get to the airport. I call a cab.
Walking down the hallway, I pass Kazuhiko struggling to read the paper on his front door. “It’s a 3 day pay or quit eviction notice, bro.” He doesn’t respond, enters his apartment, and shuts the door without bothering to remove the warning. His house music chases me down the hallway as I leave the building. I see my rusted out 260x. Key in the ignition.
Where the fuck is that taxi?
Looking in my wallet, I have 37 dollars. I have no idea if that will be enough to get me there, let alone leave a tip. The ATM is eight blocks away, and I contemplate if I can make it there and back before the taxi gets here. I decide not to risk it.
Just as I am more than half considering breaking the window with an abandoned shopping cart, the taxi pulls up.
“Where you headed?”
“LAX…international arrivals…Lufthansa. What time is it?”
"4:30"
“Fuck.”
“What time you gotta be there?”
“Plane arrives at 5:15, but she’s gotta go through customs.”
The cabbie, offended that I would treat a young lady this way by showing up late, scolds me for being a fuckup and pulls off faster than anyone other than a hack could get away with. Fucking with the CB radio, chugging a Slurpee and smoking, his hands and eyes are everywhere but the wheel or the road. The dollars tick by on the meter. $7 and we've barely gone a few blocks.
When we finally arrive at the terminal, I have just enough to pay, and tip the cabbie a couple of bucks. I gotta get to an ATM to pay for the trip home. Least of my concerns, as I am 30 minutes late.
When I finally get to the arrivals, there is a tall Eurasian girl with chiseled cheekbones and long black hair surrounded by drooling idiots, some of them LAX employees.
Valerie.
In a thick Dutch accent: “You’re lucky I don’t go home with that cute security guy.”
“I’m sorry. Locked my keys in the car.”
Changing on a dime: “Never mind. I missed you! Take me home…I want to fuck.”
* * * * *
I open the door to my place and let her in. I excuse myself to the bathroom to take a piss.
FUCK! I left Veronica Hart’s card on the table! How am I going to explain that?
I decide to fess up.
Sitting on my bed, Vanessa is holding the card.
“What’s a VCA?”
“Video Company of America. It’s a porn studio. I uh…tried porn.”
“How did it go?”
“It didn’t. I failed.”
“LOL!”
“I’m glad you think that’s funny.”
“Why don’t you try again?”
I am under the hot lights, fighting to catch my breath through thick smoke pumped in for atmosphere. Sweat stings my eyes as strobe lights do their damnedest to provoke a seizure. The cameraman positioned under my balls is telling me to stroke my cock with my right hand, not my left, because I am blocking the shot of the contract girl. Heart beating like a trip hammer, I feel the eyes of the background extras on my shriveled woodless cock.
Laughter.
“No fucking way.”
“We could do it together! Come on! It will be fun!”
“There was nothing fun about it. Besides, there is no fucking way anyone would hire me again. I probably cost the studio $15,000 easy.”
“Awww. I’ll make you feel better. Got anything to drink?”
I leave for the kitchen to make us screwdrivers. When I return, Valerie is wearing nothing but boy shorts. Handing her a drink, I am overwhelmed with nervousness.
I make love to her.
Poorly.
A bottle and a half of Stoli later, we are buzzed and hungry so I order Thai food. Just as I am about to nod off, there is a knock on the door. Valerie sprints naked to answer it. The poor delivery kid would have forgotten to take the money if it weren’t for her shoving it in his hand.
More drinks.
Valerie, still naked, grabs my antique samurai sword off its place on the wall and starts swinging it wildly. She stalks toward me.
“You put your dick in another woman? I should cut it off right now!”
“I didn’t! I couldn’t do it!”
Stalking closer: “SHUT UP! That’s not the fucking point!”
Back to the wall and sword at my cock, I fight back the compulsion to cry like a bitch.
I lose.
“Please! For fuck sake! Put the sword down…I’m SORRY!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I’m just fucking with you!”
This girl is fucking nuts!
Dropping the sword on my tatami mat, she strokes my cock. I am hard instantly.
“I want to try something. Lay on the edge of the bed.”
I obey.
She starts blowing me, rimming me alternately. I drift in pleasure.
What the fuck!?!?
While blowing me, she inserts her finger in my asshole! I surprise no one more than myself when I don’t stop her.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Happy birthday, beautiful old man!”
The clock next to my bed reads 12:20am.
It’s November 11.
I am now 30 years old.
* * * * *
Returning to bed with refreshed drinks, Valerie is picking over the remains of the Thai food. I join her.
We take a break from the drinking and fucking to absently watch Fatal Attraction on video.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” I lie.
Reality is, she is way out of my league. We both know it. I first saw Val's picture on AOL's People Connection. Like a million other loser sperm racing toward the egg, I sent her a message. I don't know what was more ridiculous; the fact that she had a dating profile to begin with or that she actually responded. I’ve only known her a few months, but I figure I can grow to love her.
“This is one of those moments I wish could last forever,” I say louder than I think.
“Only one way to make that happen. Is there something you want to ask me?”
“I’d be the luckiest man in the world, but we really don’t know each other that well, and don’t you think it would be a good idea to--”
“Stop talking. Ask me to marry you. When I say yes, you say thank you. You fucking loser.”
“Uh…Will you marry me?”
What have I done?!
“YES!!!”
More drinks. Cuddling. I know that if me doing porn and not telling her does not deter her, I really have to lay a lie on her.
3 AM.
“Valerie…wake up.”
“What is it?”
“I’m already married…well…separated…with 3 kids.”
Silence. I expect her to attack me. She doesn’t.
“Don’t you think this is something I should have known before you begged me to marry you?”
She starts sobbing quietly. Yes, she is insane, but she does not deserve having her feelings stepped on. I say nothing. We sit in silence for a few minutes.
After a while, Val takes a swig directly from the bottle and hands it to me. I kill it.
She straddles my lap. We make love again.
I fall asleep.
* * * * *
Kazuhiko’s techno music jars.
Morning.
Valerie is gone.
I’ll never see her again.
Sitting on the tatami with my back to the wall, head pulsing from the hangover and my neighbor’s shitty music, I replay the events from the last 24 hours.
The bed’s bottom sheet is off on one corner, exposing the mattress. Sword on the floor. TV’s got dancing snow. Dead bottles of Stoli. Dried crusty cum on my stomach. My asshole hurts.
Happy fucking birthday.
My apartment smells like balls and cunt. Maybe I’ll give this porn thing another go. I need fresh air.
Merciless sunlight blasts my mostly closed eyelids. I walk to my car, keys still in the ignition. I try the back hatch. It opens.
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