Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Just Cum

I’m walking up to the hottest guy at 700 Club when John grabs me by the wrist and spins me around. “Don’t do it man,” he says anxiously. “Just go home and cum.”

He gestures to the guy on the other side of the room. “He’s really, really out of your league,” he says with conviction. “Please don’t embarrass yourself!” I grab my best friend by the face and kiss him on the mouth. “Angel Dick,” I say cheerfully. “I’ve got this under control.” I turn and continue onward, towards the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Over the dull roar of the crowd, I can hear John. “C’mon dude!" he screams. "Just cum!”

The next morning, I wake up alone. I have early breakfast plans with my sister Rachel, so I roll out of bed and start getting dressed. Another Broken Egg is packed, but we don’t have to wait long for a table. We are having a loud and frustrating conversation about our mother when the server swoops by. “What can I get y’all to drink?” she asks. Rachel orders coffee and I order Tito’s on the rocks. The server stares at me. “Just vodka?” she says in disbelief. “Yes ma’am,” I say. “And keep them in rotation.” She looks from me to my sister, [who is checking Instagram from behind massive sunglasses], and back to me. “Honey,” she says timidly. “You sure you don’t want to make yourself jizz first?”

I bite my lip and nod my head. “Not right now, ma’am. Just the vodka.” She deflates. “But sweetheart, if ya just shot a little jizz, you might not need—” I clear my throat aggressively and she stops talking. I shift my attention back to Rachel and our server bolts away, snaking around tables and disappearing into the kitchen.

“Let’s go shopping,” I whine. Rachel slips her to-go box onto the passenger seat and slams the door. “You’re hammered,” she says, rounding the car and getting behind the wheel. “Go take a nap and text me later.” I heave an obnoxious sigh so that everyone on the porch at Another Broken Egg can hear me. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll go shopping alone.” Rachel starts the car and rolls down all of the windows. “You might just need to cum,” she says coolly before peeling out and leaving me unsupervised on the sidewalk.

In the dressing room, I try on eight shirts and decide to buy five of them. At the register, I get a text from my grandma. It says, “You’re about to spend $250 on T-shirts. Leave the shirts at the store, go blow a load, and then decide if you really want them.” I roll my eyes and text back, “Fuck you Mimi.”

Later, I buy heroin from a guy wearing a camisole. We’ve never met in person before, but we’re already acquainted, thanks to Craigslist. He hands me a tiny plastic bag and I trade him a sweaty wad of cash. We bump fists and turn away from each other. “Aye slim,” he yells. I spin around. “Yo, why don’t you get your nut and then maybe hit me up after.” He tires to hand me back my money, but I wave him off and step away. “Nah son,” I say. “I’m straight.”

I shoot up in an alley behind a Walgreen’s and wait for the waves to rip through me. I overturn my shopping bag and dump the T-shirts onto the ground. Then I flip my hood up and sprint across the street — into a crowded Capital One Bank.

Like all banks, it’s quiet and cavernous inside, even though it’s busy. I walk briskly passed a security guard, who is nodding off in a chair by the entrance. I bypass the line and stand behind a Pentecostal woman in an ankle-length denim skirt. “Get the fuck out the way, you stupid bitch,” I whisper. She doesn’t move so I bang her head against the countertop and she drops to the floor like a cinder block. The teller behind the counter looks up at me in horror. I toss the empty paper bag over to her and say, “Fill it up.” She looks up and me, furrows her eyebrows, and sucks in air through her teeth. “Yeahhh,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t wanna knock out a load before you do this?”

I look around the lobby and everyone is staring at us: the row of tellers, the line of customers, and even the security guard, who is wide-awake now. I feel something on my wrist, so I look down and see the teller’s hand on mine. “It’s okay,” she says softly. “It’s okay. Just blow your load and see how you feel after.” I look up, from our hands to her eyes. I don’t know why, but I trust her. “Can you give me a little room?” I say just loud enough for her to hear me. She backs away and I hop up onto the counter. I unzip my pants and yank my underwear around my thighs. I jack off while making sustained eye contact every one of the customers, including an elderly Korean woman and a black guy who looks like he wants to hit me. And then, without much warning, I cum.

When my eyes open, the bank is brighter. The people are smiling. My mind is clearer. I stretch my arms and crack my back. “Wow,” I say quietly to myself. I jump off the counter and turn to face the teller. She grins, nods, and gracefully touches my cheek. “I knew you were a good kid,” she says. “Just a little misguided when you're backed up.”

There are a few moments of silence as I gather myself and leave.

I’m so taken by this new outlook that I don’t even notice I’m tracking the Pentecostal woman’s blood across the elegant Italian marble floor and out the front door.