; ; So he tugs me up the hall, this little boy from the club. But not ; him. But who? Who knew? All reality and perspective was gone. My bud ; felt soupy, drawn like a dart.
; ; “What did you just call it?” he said, stopping in the hall. Had ; I spoken aloud? Hell if I knew. I felt like I was inside of his aura, ; his magnetic field, looking out.
; ; “What?” I said, stoned out on bliss, or what I took for bliss.
; ; “Did you just call this,” he brushed it gently “a bud?”
; ; “Yes, I guess so,” I said, my answers coming naturally and ; dispassionately, like I was talking to my brother.
; ; “Don’t call it a bud. Who calls it a bud?”
; ; “Well, what should I call it?”
; ; “Who cares,” he said, smirking. “Call it anything else. Buds ; come in bottles and they taste like shit. You taste good.”
; ; “Um, OK,” I said.
; ; He actually knocked on the door. I mean, why bother? But he ; did. Lauren sleepily beckoned us in. She had gotten into a frilly ; number. I think I had bought it with her. Maybe she was under his ; influence or hypnotized like me or whatever. But she had brought out ; the good stuff, a nice green number: smooth.
; ; She was still smirking, an echo of his. I wonder if I had that look on ; my face. She seemed like herself, but expectant and ready to go. But ; where were we going? And what was I doing here?
; ; “Lauren, are you OK?” I asked.
; ; “Yeah, I think,” she said. “Am I hypnotized?”
; ; “I don’t know,” I said, looking for an answer to the ; night’s master of ceremonies.
; ; “Do you wanna be hypnotized, Lauren?” he asked.
; ; “I don’t know,” she said, in a fugue. I could feel the heat ; in the room, coming off of her, coming off of me. My bud…
; ; “Don’t call it that,” he said, this time a little ; exasperated.
; ; “Sorry, sorry,” I said, very confused. He was reading my ; mind. Was he reading my mind? “Are you reading my mind? Am I ; hypnotized?
; ; “Shh,” he said. So I stopped.
; ; “Lauren, stand up,” he said. She rose, standing at attention. He ; seemed more interested in her cds and posters. He was nodding with ; approval, and took a worshipful gander at Lauren’s signed record ; sleeves on her walls.
; ; “Lauren, is Kevin in town?”
; ; Lauren nodded, eyes wide and shimmering. “He’s gonna bring ; donuts over later.”
; ; “Nice,” he said, the glimmer of a plan falling over his skin. He ; began waving his hands in front of Lauren, sort of classic hypnotist, ; like from black and white movies. The look on his face got insanely ; intense, and Lauren stood glued to the ground and to his stare.
; ; “Lauren, I am hypnotizing you. Do you understand?” he said, ; taking on a serious, deep, Citizen Kane-like voice. What’s his ; name? That guy?
; ; “Orson Wells,” he said.
; ; Yeah, Orson Wells. Is he reading my mind now? Jesus. Whatever. Orson ; Wells.
; ; “Lauren, do you understand me? I could count down or tell you ; you’re relaxing, but you know what I’m talking about, right?” ; he said, still waving his hands wildly. I giggled to myself. I ; don’t know why, but it was funny. Or everything was funny. This ; show was for my benefit, it seemed. A little private joke.
; ; Lauren seemed to be drawn to his hands, like when you pass a magnet ; near a paperclip. She was the paperclip, leaning toward his with every ; pass, half-swoon.
; ; “Sure, I understand.”
; ; “Good,” he said. “My arms are tired.”
; ; “Do your arms get tired?” I asked, holding in another laugh.
; ; He looked at me sweetly with a crooked look. “You probably don’t ; want to know the answer to that,” he said, and it immediately ; sounded true. I don’t know if the Mr. Mysterio act was an act, but ; it rang true to me. I probably shouldn’t ask questions I didn’t ; want the answers to, I thought.
; ; “Have you ever done this before?” he asked, beckoning toward ; Lauren’s bed.
; ; “You mean, with Lauren? No. I’m not a lesbian.”
; ; “Do you want to?” he asked, curious about my response as Lauren ; stretched as tall as she could, straighter than a rocket to the moon.
; ; “I don’t know,” I said, clearly not in a place where ; decision-making was easy or desirable. The faraway voice felt like it ; was pounding on the inside of my forehead.
; ; “Tina, we’re gonna try something new tonight, OK?” he said. I ; knew he wasn’t really asking a question. It was clear that he was ; gonna do whatever he wanted. I mean, this was what he wanted, right?
; ; I began to mumble a response, and I realized he was holding my hand ; again. I could suddenly feel waves of, whatever: radiation, heat, ; light, sound, flavor. It felt suddenly like I was popcorn in the ; microwave, and rising.
; ; He gently took his index finger and tapped my unwrinkled, relaxed ; forehead. My brain suddenly cleared. Good night, voice. Good night, ; doubt. It felt tremendous, like someone pouring a beer down the ; drain. I was empty and small. And my feet had left the ; ground. Literally. As literally as I can tell it. I was a balloon, ; eager for helium, fill me fill me fill me.
; ; And he walked into me, calm blue light swirling. I felt him like ; before, inside my folds and corners. He was everywhere. It was him and ; me. Go team.
; ; And we were floating, two-headed, four arms and legs—an octopus or ; hydra, headed through the air slowly toward Lauren. She looked so ; sweet, her eyes had closed. She smiled as if she was having another ; drifting terrific dream.
; ; All of whatever we had become felt real. I buzzed from whatever he was ; putting out. My box salivated, brushing against his piece. They were ; connected and separate. We were together but also fluid, he continued ; to adjust in my body as we crept closer. He moved his face up to ; Lauren for a kiss, a lingering. I lost him in peripheral vision, I ; couldn’t turn my head to a helpful angel, but she seemed to be ; falling the way honey might fall from the open skull of the honey ; bear: forever slow, held up by his lips.
; ; Lauren’s hands were at her side, her body a wave crashing up and ; up. Our hands, my hands, whoever’s, they were at her face, on her ; breasts, a hand slithered up from navel to sternum. Whose hands were ; all of these? How many hands do two people have? At that point I had ; no idea. None at all. I was deep in a vein of bliss. I wish I had a ; thesaurus, I might have said savor or relish. Didn’t I get an ; English degree? Was I still me?
; ; And thus we pounced and pounced. On her and
; ; We boarded Lauren like pirates jumping the lip of another ship, hands ; circling to touch every last piece of her. I could feel desire and I ; didn’t know who it was coming from. We built a circuit, a circuit ; we couldn’t, wouldn’t break. I felt everything. Everything I was ; and he was and we were. It felt like her hands were passing through us ; to tickle ribs or tug at a gut. Her breasts and our breasts. His dick ; down through me and spilling into Lauren. She twisted like a crescent ; moon, impossibly joyfully up. I don’t know who was driving the ; car. We tumble of cliffs and onto more cliffs from which to fall.
; ; Was I hypnotized? Was I up or down? It took me some time to realize he ; had left my body and entered Lauren’s. He’d fully twisted to ; face me, and I was pierced by him and pressed to her. Legs traveled to ; invented angles. I felt fingers in my mouth, deliciously round and ; sweet, dipped in a zone that pulsed with, what? Flavor? There is no ; word.
; ; How was this happening to us? I felt yanked upwards, as if on the ; wind. I could feel it alternating and swirling, this blue ; cloud. Briefly pierced by all cocks, or close to just faces: his, her, ; mine—hishermine?
; ; I felt drained and licked clean and refilled with fragrance, ; potency. I felt thirstier.
; ; I was beckoned down (down?) to drink something for somewhere (cock? ; cunt? soul? flowers? night?): salty, clean, hot and buttery. It was ; everything: all fluids. All essences. Whatever we were. Everything ; felt tipped, as if pulled into italics and—
; ; Wait—
; ; And—
; ; It was all too much. My hard drive crashed and was replaced by an ; infinity sign of coming. Coming and coming and coming, until coming ; made no sense either. Just a hollow word to describe the feeling of ; pouring out and out into the universe. Whoever I was it felt too good ; to ever lose. I was a moment, spreading out across the room like a ; faint blue light. Yes: a blue, blue, blue, blue, blue light.