jimmy

Mel dragged me to a fundraising party for her coworker Pablo over at some rich guy’s house in the Franklin Hills. Pablo’s running in some marathon somewhere and was raising money for AIDS research or something.

The party was filled with a bunch of her teacher coworkers. Great, they’d be talking shop, talking about the kids, bitching about the bureaucracies of the job, yadda yadda yadda. I just wanted to get fucked up and see if there was anyone remotely worth trying to hook up with.

Thankfully I came prepared. Tuesday night I drove out to Encino to meet with Dealer and get a gram of coke. Driving out there through the 101 winding first through the Hollywood Hills and then through the blinking lights of the dread throughout the Valley, past the 405 noting my aversion of that freeway as I drive by. It’s just too much to handle at times. Of course I’m stuck in traffic, and I seriously think about just gunning it and hitting the silver Honda Accord driving in front of me.

It’s a great fantasy, really. I grab onto the wheel in a death grip, a maniacal look on my face as my right leg is fully extended jerking the car forward. And that delicious moment of impact a glorious second of catharsis as the front of my car crumples and my body bouncing violently coming to rest in a bloody heap with just a smile on my face.

But I’m goal-oriented, so I just sit there like the guy in the Beamer next to me in annoyed patience to get to my destination.

The actual exchange of cash and goods with Dealer is nothing remarkable. I knock on his door, announce my presence, hand him money and receive the baggie. It’s nothing exotic like you see in the movies. The only thing is the looming dirtiness of the whole transaction — it makes my iniquity tangible. But all of that guilt is erase as I test the goods with a bump taken out of one of my unused keys.

The drive back home is smooth. Amazingly I don’t have any dread of being pulled over. I just get home, take out the baggie and look in my medicine cabinet to get the ingredients for my cocktail. Vicodin will work. I think about Percocet, Viagra, Hydrochlorothiazide, Valium. I settle for Vicodin and Percocet — somehow they make such a good combo. I go into the kitchen and put two pills each on my cutting board and crush them. Add contents of the baggie, make sure there’s a good consistency and put everything back into the baggie. Take a bump, take off my clothes, go to bed and jerk off.

**

Rising Sign is in 15 Degrees Taurus
Calm and deliberate, you hate to move quickly or act hastily. Very practical, every effort must count or you can’t be bothered. Patient, persistent and steady, but very stubborn — you can’t be pushed or pressured into anything. You seem outwardly self-assured because you tend to repress your inner tension and turmoil. You exude an earthy warmth, friendliness and charm. You demand comfortable surroundings and appreciate the good life. Be careful of a tendency to be overly self-indulgent. At times, you are lazy and difficult to motivate. Overcoming inertia is a problem for you and, because you are not by nature a self-starter, it is often necessary for you to receive stimuli from others in order to get moving.

Sun is in 06 Degrees Aries.
By nature, you are very energetic and high-spirited. You are fiercely independent — you must be first in everything you do, and you enjoy taking risks. You are the one who will rush in where angels fear to tread. Quite brilliant at initiating new projects, you are terrible at following them through to completion. You are an enthusiastic leader but you tend to be a reluctant follower. Often you are quick to anger, but you usually recover just as fast, regretting later things you said when you were upset. One of your best traits is that you are simple and direct, blunt and honest — just be careful you do not hurt others’ feelings. Your need to be competitive at all costs may provoke resistance from others, but, as long as you maintain your usual Sunny good humor, this should not prove to be a major problem for you.

Well that’s not entirely true since I actually wanted to get Angel to fuck me. But that’s a completely different story.

I had taken a Vicodin beforehand because I tend to hate people — after all I want to have a good time and be somewhat sociable to get some dick. Stepping into the warehouse, the Vicodin was working. I smiled at nothing in particular and wanted to hug everybody in there.

Granted there were probably only 25 people in a space that could probably fit 200 comfortably, but that didn’t matter. I just wanted to be a part of these people: the gay gym queens who have muscles that are only for show; the girls with the high heeled boots and leggings and plenty of glam; the weird ambisexual boys that you just want to cuddle up with naked.

Thanks to my acute alcohol sensing abilities, I found the ginny gin gin and and was talking it up with Matt, Steve, Kim. I don’t even think those were their names, but whatever. They were tall and skinny and loved the boots I was wearing.

While conversing about lord knows what, I noticed Matt constantly peeking over to the back of the space. A little off-putting, but not a big social faux pas mind you. Just as I was about to launch into a story about this gym queen who was about to fuck me but couldn’t get it up, he dragged the four of us with the urgency of an oncoming brushfire to the bathroom in the back. If I were a cat, my ears would have stood at attention.

Matt fumbled around in his pocket and popped out a tiny vial of white hipster gold. Looking at our reflection in the mirror I saw that Steve, Kim and I looked like starving kids given a shopping spree in a candy shop jumping up and down silent clapping goody-goody. Wiping down the counter Matt expertly cut four lines and in no time the particulates were suctioned up our respective nostrils. Four more lines, four more happy boys.

Being in the bathroom, the realm of everything impure, gave us license to feel each other up. Kim ran his hands up my shirt, played with the strands of chest hair and took a tug at my right nipple. The spirit of the devil truly overcame me, and I reached down his pants to stroke his dick. After unbuttoning his pants to let his dick loose, I grabbed the vial and poured out the makings of another line. Realizing actually forming a line on a dick would be pretty hard, I just went down and snorted it up. Not wanting to waste an iota I did the most practical thing – I took Kim’s dick in my mouth.

I realized how stupid that whole endeavor was as the coke was starting to burn a hole on my tongue causing my body to convulse in its dreadful taste. Hell, isn’t this something everyone has wanted to do? I can mark that off my bucket list.

I soon got the feeling that I wanted to get out of the confines of the bathroom, but not wanting to be rude after being given free drugs I went up to Matt. A sloppy kiss led me to affix my mouth to his dick as a repayment of the tingly happiness coursing through my body. I guess he liked that there was an audience because in five minutes I had a mouth full of his acrid cum. Swallow, kiss, thank you, I was out.

Released back into the wild I found Sara and Angel dancing on what I guess became the dance floor. Quite a few more people streamed through as last call approached throughout the city. I joined them and in my light-headed bliss I started dancing with Angel. My hands were everywhere on him, but his hands were. Well I don’t know where his hands were. All I know was that I felt every ridge of his eight-pack, the pencil points of his nipples, the contour of his ribs. I didn’t really care that his hands weren’t on me. After all I still had the three lines and some dude’s cum coursing through me.

Going from that, sitting and having mindless chatter with people on the sidelines, sipping my drinky-drink. It was all a blur until I realized there were only five people left. Fuck, I hate overstaying my welcome.