Sketches in the Night

He reread the letter, then took it to the kitchen and put it in the trash, picked up his car keys and coat and walked to the elevator; a few minutes later he was out in the snow, his Tesla Model S tracking through the slushy muck down State Street. He wandered aimlessly, turned here and there, not paying attention to much more than the traffic, and the heavily falling snow. After a while he pulled into a service station and filled the tank, went inside and got a bottle of water, and when he sat behind the wheel he fished out the Viagra and looked at the box, then rolled down the window and tossed it into a garbage can before he drove back into the night. Perhaps ten minutes later he saw a pink sign ahead, a chain store, an adult bookstore and he laughed.

"Why the fuck not?" he said as he turned into the parking lot, and he parked, walked to the door, stamping the snow off his boots as he stepped inside.

His eyes turned to saucers as he took in the mesmerizing displays around the vast room, the toys and dolls and racks upon racks of videos and magazines catering to every conceivable kink, then along the back wall he saw a neon sign: Video Arcade. "What the fuck?"

He walked to the front counter, waited until the girl working there turned to him.

"What's in there," he asked, pointing to the arcade. "Movies?"

The girl snorted derisively. "Yeah, you could say that."

"What's it cost?"

"You buy a card, load it with cash and put it in the slot. It subtracts the dollar amount based on how long you stay inside."

"How much is enough?"

"Depends on how long you wanna cruise."

"Cruise?"

"How long you wanna watch."

He pulled out his wallet and gave her a fifty, and she smirked. "All on the card?"

"Sure. Why the hell not...?"

"Your money, Dad." She handed him the card and he walked to the entrance and went inside...

...And his senses were overwhelmed with smells of tobacco, urine and, he assumed, old cum, with rancid undertones of stale disinfectant crawling up his skin. His first impulse was to run, but curiosity soon got the better of him and he walked through the maze like corridors, pausing to look at the offerings outside each 'cabin,' eventually settling on one that had a good mix of interesting women on it's display. He walked inside and shut the door, then looked at the cum-splattered seat and turned around, walked back into the maze.

He came to another and went inside, sat on the relatively clean seat and was getting ready to put the card in the reader when he noticed a circular opening in the wall by his side -- and moments later a genuinely huge penis -- black and dripping pre-cum -- poked through the opening. He grabbed the card from the reader and bolted from the cabin, clearly terrified.

Yet he walked deeper into the maze, and now he saw men lining the way, each looking at him knowingly, each man sizing up his need, then, near the back wall he saw to girls -- one with his back to him, the other obliquely facing his way.

And it was the girl with her back to him that first caught his eye. Something about her hair, and the shape of her legs, seemed to scream 'Sara!' to him, yet he was unaware he was staring until the girl facing him looked him in the eye, then leaned close to her companion and whispered in her ear.

Then this other girl turned and looked at him, and when he saw her face he felt engulfed by waves of fire -- and ice.

She looked like Sara. His Sara. Maybe not exactly, but close enough to startle him, yet it was the girl's legs that held his mind's eye -- as if he had suddenly been gripped in a vice and the paws had clamped down on his soul. He took a deep breath and was about to turn away -- when she began walking his way.

"You wanna go in a cabin together?" she asked.

He squinted a little, nodded his head. "Sure," he said, though his voice was little more than a coarse whisper now.

"This one, in the corner," she said, "costs a little more, but it's bigger -- there's more room to spread out."

"Okay."

She led him to the door and then stepped inside, waiting for him.

He felt control of his life was turning away just then, spinning from his grasp as he looked at her standing there, then he held his breath and stepped inside. She locked the door behind him, then she turned and faced him.

"You a cop?"

He shook his head. "No. Are you?"

She snorted at that. "You look kind of nervous -- ever done this before?"

He shook his head again, barely managed to whisper "No" -- then she looked at him again, all the more closely this time.

"You alright?" she asked.

"No."

"No?"

"You look," he tried to say, but his voice caught and he tried to clear his throat. "You look like my wife."

"And she's home right now, isn't she...waiting up for you?"

He looked away, looked lost as he said "She's dead," and she saw there was something in his eyes that looked more than lost.

"Oh, look, I'm sorry. Maybe this is too weird for you right now?"

"Everything is too weird for me right now," he said, then he looked into her eyes. "What's your name?"

"What would you like my name to be?"

"Sara."

"Okay, Sara it is. What's your name?"

"Gene. Gene Parker."

"Well, Gene, you wanna put the card in the slot, then we can talk about what you wanna do tonight." He put the card in the reader and the screen came alive, revealing a menu of different videos, and she asked what he was interested in watching.

"You choose, Sara."

The screen filled with images of a girl giving an older man a blowjob, and his eyes locked on the screen, at the easy motion and the flood of memory that came for him.

"You want to do something like this, Gene"

"I think so."

"Well, that's gonna be twenty. Can you handle that?"

He nodded his head.

"I need it up front."

He took his wallet from inside his jacket and opened it up, pulled a one hundred dollar bill from it and handed it to her.

Her eyes wide, she wondered what was happening, if this old man was drunk, or stoned.

He looked into her eyes again: "Would you like more?"

She shook her head. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Sara, would you kiss me now?"

"Gene, for a hundred bucks I'll kiss your ass up one side and down the other, and I'll do it all night long, too."

"Once, gently, on the lips would help right now."

She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him -- gently -- on the lips, and when she pulled back from him she saw he was crying, so she leaned into him again and kissed his tears away, held him close.

"You sure you want to do this, Gene Parker?"

"I need to, yes. Please."

And he felt her undoing his belt buckle, unbuttoning his trousers, pushing them down to his ankles. She was on her knees in the next instant and took him in her mouth, buried his eight inches and he felt her tickling his sack with her tongue, then he felt his knees buckling, an intense fire erupting from the small of his back and within seconds he came.

He heard a gentle snorting gasp as she took him in her mouth, and he was vaguely aware he was letting slip one of the largest orgasms in human history -- but she kept at it, kept swallowing his seed as she jacked his cock with her mouth. A minute later she stood, gasping, and he saw he'd wrecked her face. There were huge, milky-long ropes of cum dangling from her lips and chin -- and her eyes were watering...

"Oh my God," he whispered, "what have I done?"

"I don't know," the girl whispered, trying not to laugh, "but could you do it again?"

"What?"

"Oh fuck me," she said. "That was the most intense cum I've ever experienced. How long has it been?"

"Been?"

"Since you came?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Three years, maybe?"

"Three...years?" she sighed, still picking at the ropy mess hanging from her chin. "No wonder!"

"Oh, God...I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? Don't be...it's like, well, my job..."

"Your job?" The words struck him as beyond odd, then he looked at this girl more closely. She didn't look like Sara, not at all. Her hair, her legs, nothing at all. He had simply objectified her to the point he couldn't see her humanity anymore. No, she wasn't human anymore, not in those first few moments; she had become, rather, a receptacle for his lust -- and, perhaps -- his hopes and dreams of all that'd been, all he was about to lose.

He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. "Here, you might have a go at it with this," he said as he looked at her more closely. The bones of her wrist, the loose skin under her eyes, the yellow-gray teeth -- all the classic signs. Malnourished and mineral deficient, this kid was, for all intents and purposes, starving to death. In the dead of winter. In one of the richest cities in the richest country on this planet. Hoping to give some old man a blowjob so she could eat, or more likely, buy drugs. "How old are you?" he asked.

She finished wiping away his semen and looked up at him, then she shrugged. "Old enough to know better, I guess."

He nodded his head. "Want something to eat?"

She laughed, gently. "I think I just had a thousand calorie protein shake, mister. Know what I mean?"

"Doctor."

"You a doc?"

He nodded his head. "I'd like to talk some more. With you. Matter of fact I need to talk to you. Badly, I guess you could say."

She looked at him, measuring the need she saw in his eyes against the new hundred dollar bill in her pocketbook. "Yeah, okay. There's a diner down the street."

"Look," he said suddenly, the words unchecked, coming out of nowhere, "I want to thank you. You have no idea how much I needed you just then."

She chuckled again. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea..." she said, thinking of the surging blast of cum she'd just gagged down.

And he laughed too, and maybe this was the first time he'd really felt like laughing in...years. "I see what you mean." He left the card in the slot and opened the door, let her out and she looked around, saw her friend was 'engaged' and turned to him.

"Look, you don't have to feel guilty, don't need to take me out."

He looked her in the eye. "I know. Come on, let's go." He held out his hand, and she looked at it for a moment, shook her head then took it.

She directed him to an all-night diner down on 51^st, and he had to pull off the road once when an armada of police cars thundered by, lights and sirens blaring, then he pulled into the diner's lot and scrambled to her door, helped her out, then held her hand all the way inside the diner.

The lights were brighter here, there was no place to hide. He looked at her skin after they sat, saw the ground-in dirt behind her ears, under her nails and he didn't need to ask. She was a shelter girl, living in shelters when there was room, hanging out in arcades like the one he'd found her in when there wasn't. He'd read the articles, seen the news stories, and he'd thought so little of people like her at the time he'd simply forgotten about them.

'But isn't that always the way?' he asked himself. 'Human misery goes unnoticed, even when we're surrounded by it?' -- and still he watched her, watched her hands and eyes, sorting out the clues...

"Let's go wash up?" he asked after they ordered, while looking at the crusty remnants of his need on her face, and when they got back to the table their coffees and ice water were waiting.

He tried not to stare while she ate, but once again it was obvious she hadn't had much to eat in a long time -- but then the need to talk, to tell her about things became overwhelming.

"That was my last time," he said -- out of the blue.

"Your last time for what?"

"Sex."

"Oh? Why?"

"I'm...I've got cancer, having an operation this morning. When it's over, so is sex."

He didn't know what he expected, but she just looked down just a little, nodded her head slowly -- then he realized this girl, of all the girls he might have met up this night, understood that life didn't always hand you what you expected -- or what you thought you deserved.

But then she looked up brightly: "Sex doesn't always have to be about having an orgasm, you know? There are other things..."

"Yeah, I suppose so, but it's a big change. Expectations, I guess, and all that."

She nodded her head. "A big one. I can't even imagine how I'd feel."

"Yeah."

"So, you're alone?"

He nodded his head. "Three years now."

"Sara? You called me Sara? She was your wife?"

"Uh-huh."

"What did she do?"

"Pediatrician."

"My dad was a shrink," she said. "He was fucking a bunch of his patients, got caught and killed himself."

He grimaced, shook his head. "Your mom?"

"She lives somewhere out on the west coast; California, I think."

"Where do you live now?"

And when she looked away, she answered that question with her silence. "What about you?" she asked. "Where do you live?"

"Downtown. On State Street."

"You live alone, I guess? I mean, all the time?"

"Yes. Since she passed."

"You know, what we just did...that's not sex, not really."

"I know, without love..."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean."

"Oh."

"You want to go to your place?" She looked at him as he looked down at his watch..."What time do you have to be there?"

"Five-thirty, but look, you don't have..."

"I know I don't have to. But maybe I want...no, maybe I need to. Know what I mean?"

"Okay. How was that omelet?"

"Pretty good. You tasted better, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Really?"

She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially: "I loved the way you taste."

It was his turn to smile, and he looked in her eyes again. "You're lovely, you know?"

She sat back, looked at him carefully. "No, I don't know. In fact, I think you're the first person who's ever said that to me."

He looked away, looked for a way out of her dilemma. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

She shook her head. "Look, can we leave? I don't want to waste any time right now."

"Sure," he said, then: "Waste time?"

"Your time. Our time."

"Oh."

They were driving back in on 51^st Street a few minutes later; cops directed them around a big mess at Cottage Grove, and a few minutes later they pulled into his building's garage. He got her door again and they went up to his place, and her eyes went wide when she stepped inside this other world.

"Wow..." was about all she said.

"Could I get you anything? Something to drink, maybe?"

"Could I, maybe, take a shower?"

"Yes, of course," he said, and he led her back to their bedroom, now -- suddenly -- very self-conscious, very aware he'd just taken a young girl into his home, a stranger, one quite possibly looking to take advantage of the situation, but as he led her into the bathroom he looked at her again, looked at the fragility he felt under her skin, deep within her soul, and he helped her out of her skirt and top, looked at her garters and stockings and seedy hooker heels, her almost translucent white skin, and he felt that same overwhelming attraction to her he'd felt in the diner -- and before, in that awful place.

"I don't think anyone has ever looked at me the way you do," she said.

"The way I do?"

"Men look at -- women like me -- like they look at any other toy they want. Something to use, then throw away when they're done. You don't, and I don't get it."

"You are so beautiful it hurts," he said. "I just want to scoop you up and hold you tight, and the way you make me feel...well, it happened to me only once before, many years ago."

"Was Sara the only woman you've been with?"

He shrugged. "One girl, in high school, but really...Sara and I were together since grade school."

"That's it?"

"Yup."

"And now me? I'm big number three?"

"That's about the size of things."

"Jesus," she sighed inwardly, her voice barely audible.

"Here, let me get the water," he said as he stepped into the shower.

"That looks like a tennis court!" she giggled. "How many shower heads does that thing have?"

He shrugged.

"Take your clothes off," she said, reaching for his belt again, and she helped him out of his clothes, then they stepped under the water together.

"Too hot?" he asked.

"Oh, God no. It feels great..."

He took a washcloth and lathered it up with hot, soapy water, then he bathed her, starting at her neck, then working his way down slowly. When he got to her belly he saw the caesarian scar and looked at it for a moment, then he put more soap on the washcloth and started down her legs. He pushed her thighs open a little so he could wash between her legs, then he turned her around and started down her back.

He noticed all the bruises then, where men had held her down, he assumed, while they pushed their need down her throat, and he came up close to her then, from behind, and he put his arms around her and kissed her neck and shoulders before he continued bathing her. There were more bruises down her back, but it was worst of all down her thighs. It looked like someone had beaten her there and he wanted to turn away, to look anywhere but where that reality took him...

But he couldn't look away. He couldn't look away now, and not ever again. There simply wasn't time for that now.

"Under the water," he said gently when he stood again, and he shampooed her hair gently for the longest time, then rinsed her hair while he massaged her temples, smiling when he felt her relax, letting her lean into his chest while he rubbed her shoulders and upper arms -- then he reached for his electric toothbrush and loaded it, then turned to her.

"You're going to brush my teeth, too?"

"I'm going to brush your teeth, too. Open up." And he brushed them gently, indeed, she felt almost lovingly, then he said "Rinse," and when she had he held her close again and rubbed the small of her back.

She looked up at him then, the water running off her face, and she looked at his lips, then his eyes. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered.

"Sh-h-h," he sighed.

"I'm falling in love with you."

"Good." She squeezed him tightly as that word rolled off his tongue, and he felt a shudder run through her body. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She laughed a little. "I just came," she whispered in his ear.

"You...what?"

"When you said 'good' -- I came -- just a little."

He cupped his hand under her chin and lifted her lips to his and he kissed her, gently at first, then more passionately -- and he felt the tremors again, in her knees this time -- and when they passed he turned off the water, stepped out and dried himself quickly, then he took a fresh, warm towel from the rack and helped her out. He dried her slowly, carefully, massaged his warmth into her before he led her to their bed.

He laid her gently out and began kissing the tops of her feet, then her ankles and behind the knees, then inside her thighs. She parted for him and he went to her lips, gently, then he probed inward, finding her spots. Her breathing came more deeply now, her trembling more insistent, and he felt her hands on his head willing him deeper. He felt her feet on his back, then her thighs clamped his face as real orgasm took root -- and he sucked her clit, ran his tongue into her as deeply as he could.

She was bucking in the next instant, her hands slamming the mattress, grasping the sheets, her head thrashing from side to side and wails of "Oh my God, oh my God!" filled the air as she lost herself completely. She filled his mouth and still he hammered her clit, still she thrashed.

"Okay..." she gasped. "Enough, or I'm going pee all over the bed!"

He let her down gently, then nibbled up her tummy to her breasts, moved slowly to her neck again -- then her lips -- kissing every inch of her, suddenly loving everything about his girl. He held himself up above her and looked into her eyes. "Close them," he said. "Close you eyes." And when she had he leaned close and gently tickled her eyelashes with his tongue, felt the trembling start again and he kissed her, deeply.