The Nightlife

I feel compelled to tell you about Miss Carrie Caldwell. I met her about 2 years ago and I still can't stop thinking about her. Her presence in my life was insignificant, except for the simple and irrefutable fact that I am completely infatuated with her. She'd walk into a room filled with men and instantly capture their attention. Picture a moth mindlessly bashing its face into a halogen lamp. Her dress was long and red. It hugged her body and split off to reveal her slender thighs. Sinister curves, I couldn't think of anything else. I saw her walk towards the bar smiling at the bartender. Paying close attention to her lips she mouthed "Brandy Alexander" and the bartender went straight to work. I'd think, she was only here to get fucked. The expression on her face reminded me of every porno I've ever seen. That look on the womans face when she's getting eaten out. She'd gently bite her lower lip and scope the room. From left to right, I saw her judge each man. All of their faults were so obvious to Carrie. A sensitive guy next to an immature guy, a poor guy next to a shy guy, and all of them slightly less pathetic than me. Imagine the kid picked last for kickball tripping on his shoelace. In a matter of seconds she'd find herself staring at me, staring back. What she'd think then was everything I already knew. Her deep eyes met mine. The loud boom of the club speakers couldn't drown out the pounding in my chest. My heart dropped to the floor and I tried to keep composed. My bar stool was shaking vigoriously as my right foot tapped the ground at an alarming rate. She rose out of her seat and came closer to mine. I remember feeling all of the blood rush to my head. I remember feeling the inside of my pant leg. She leaned towards me and her big crimson lips parted for an instant.
"Come"
That was all she had to say. She touched my inner thigh and squeezed as she coaxed me off the chair. I was speechless. I remember thinking, this is why I came out tonight. She led me across the dance floor to a door lined with velvet. Pushing the door open and walking through, a feeling of relief passed over me. The music from the club got farther away and was reduced to a slight vibration once the door had shut behind us. What happened next I can only desribe as inspiration in its purest form. She gave me a small red pill. Diethyl amides and psylocybins couldn't prepare me for this.
"Swallow"
Hours or minutes could have passed since that moment. Calm and collected, I wiped nervous beads of water off of the ridge of my nose. We sprawled out on a posh dark blue couch and in a dim light, we danced. We danced until the night grew old. Dirty and grungy, my joints churned as I struggled to keep up. Her breathe against my neck and my deep inhalations. The lights flickered on and off, or maybe I just stopped noticing them for fleeting moments.
An awkward amount of time passed until she finally stopped. She dressed herself while I remained on the couch, still breathing heavily. This was nothing new for Carrie Caldwell. A thousand men before me got to fuck this sadist, this vixen. Her hand waving through the air left streaks in space. She squeezed her perfect breasts into the dress and left me.
I thought about her every day since then. My nights are cold and lonely, my days are empty. Who's going to fuck me like you do? This sex, this tango, this love. As hair brushes past my face and demons scream bitter sin, I am blind to all these sadistic intentions. Fuck me that way. Regressed in this penetration. To leave every other worldly desire behind and get back that lust, I'd feel whole again. Carrie, your whispers in my ear. Your whispers told lies that even the sharpest men wouldn't refute. I'll always be here with you, by your side, fucking you the way I do. I suppose it was an even trade. A piece of me inside you, and a piece of you inside me. The black rose at my doorstep smells of your perfume. I'm dying without you, I died to have you. For this simple love I gave my heart, and you gave me my innocence wrapped up in a white sheet. I can't help myself, to think about you every day. The death you bring is sanctified. For the first time since I met you, I am depressed. I'm decaying six feet away from your world. And now my existence is nothing but a small taste, a lost thought on the tip of one's tongue. I've taken on this dysfunction for our love, and where are you now? Where is that passion I felt? It has all gone away. With the wind blowing it carries the dust from my casket, and my wasted genetics stained across your red dress.