The End of the Beginning (he hopes)

I wake up earlier than I’d like to because I have to pee. The bright sunlight streaming in from the skylight above the bed doesn’t help either. Jiva, the dumb bitch forgot to roll down the shade before we passed out last night. I roll onto my back and collect my wits, but I have a hard time because it’s immediately apparent that I’m dirty. I wish I could erase the entire summer from my memory and start fresh. I smell like Jiva and it makes me want to be sick. What’s worse is I’m late for work. Again. I desperately need a shower. This is not a good way to start the day. I’m also desperately dehydrated. I feel like there isn’t enough water in my system to properly suspend my brain inside my skull.

You know you hear stuff all the time about women being forced into sex and doing stuff they don’t want to do when they’re drunk or high and about the guys who take advantage of those chicks when they are in a compromised state. I’ve never done that; at least not to my knowledge. I suppose anything is possible with a memory as spotty as mine, but as far as I know, I’m in the clear. What you don’t hear about is when chicks do that to dudes. I think about eating out Jiva’s box last night and I want to burn my tongue off. The memory of her coarse pubic hair brushing against my nose and the intensity of her musk makes my stomach churn. I use the only tool I have available to mitigate the pain by lighting a cigarette, but first I put my mouth on the bathroom tap and desperately suck lukewarm tap water. I’m like a street whore but instead of money I get a place to sleep for the night. At the moment it doesn’t feel like such a fantastic bargain. I smoke and do my best to have a decent bowel movement before I get in the shower.

Jiva’s been a friend of mine for a long time. All the way back to high school. I’ve never been attracted to her but she’s strong willed and gets what she wants. I guess she’s had a crush on me for a while and then one night when we were drunk she jumped me and we started fucking around. From there the situation has completely snow balled out of control. I’m technically a gigolo I think, a kept man. I never thought a gigolo would look like me. But I fit the basic criteria. I’m having sex with someone I don’t want to in exchange for food and shelter. There’s no cash in the deal but same difference right? Ugh. Thank Christ the summer is almost over.

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