San Francisco Sojourn

I’m beginning to reconsider my original assessment of how hot Sara actually is. Maybe I was a bit hasty in my initial appraisal. I do that sometimes; judge women a little too harshly. She bends over the coffee table and sets down a bowl of tortilla chips. I catch a sidelong look down her shirt and decide that there just might be more life in those boobs than meets the eye. Boobs can be tricky that way.
You never quite know what you are getting till they’re unbound and in their free and natural state. However her tits stack up though, she’s definitely out of this dickhead Andy’s league. What the fuck is going on here? What’s she doing with a loser like him? Sure he’s a nice enough guy, but come on, let’s be serious… I wonder if she notices that I have a raging hard-on. I think I catch her looking, but I can’t be sure. Cagey bitch.

How the fuck did I end up here with these dorks to begin with? That’s the real question. It’s been a rough month, but today is my 27th day free of dope and I’m finally feeling halfway decent. I’m celebrating by getting drunk. I’ve pretty much been drunk for 26 days straight, so getting drunk isn’t all that special, but today is different. I’m happy. I’m finally feeling free of the dope. If you’ve never had to withdrawal from a heroin habit, let me break it down for you; it’s literally hell. But everyone knows that, right? I won’t bore you with the details except to say that beyond the intensity of the misery, the worst part is just how long it fucking lasts. The ache is non-stop for the first week. The second week it gets a little better, a little less intense, but sleep is still an impossibility. There is no refuge from the misery. It takes a full month to begin to resemble a human being again. Even then, you can’t expect to sleep more than a few hours a night. And that’s if you are lucky.

My friend Anne has been acting as my nursemaid through the withdrawal period. Thank god. She was the one who offered me refuge here in San Francisco. She called me when a room became available in the apartment she rents from on Haight Street and I flew out from New York. I just brought a small bag of clothes and enough dope, I thought, to hold me for a week. Naturally, my supply of dope lasted just three days. She nursed me through the withdrawals as best she could, but she had to work most days so I spent a lot of the time drinking whisky with a purpose, alone in the apartment desperately seeking the refuge of a black out. When I wasn’t drunk I smoked the strong pot the scumbag street hippies sell by the dimebag downstairs.

I had known for some time that things were heading toward a bad end in New York. I had no money to pay rent. My roommates were sick of floating me and wanted me gone. My dope habit, at about $70 a day, was completely unsustainable. Evasive action was called for. Anne’s phone call was all I needed to get me to beg my parents, one last time, to send enough money to buy a ticket out to California. I told them I’d probably have better luck finding a job out here. To that end, one of these days I just might start looking. In the meantime, thank Christ for Anne.

Anne and I are fuck buddies. I know she cares about me, probably more than I care about her, but I just can’t be tied down that way. I can’t narrow my options down too much by getting involved with a single chick, especially now that the dopesick-ness is on the wane.

The intensity of my sex urges this go around has really surprised me. I don’t remember being such a raging pussy-hound before I was hooked on dope, but these past few days I can’t walk down the street without staring at every chick I pass. It’s out of control. I pretty much have a hard-on 23 hours a day, and that’s despite the fact that I’m masturbating about every other hour or so. I literally want to fuck every woman I pass. I don’t give a fuck what she looks like!

This is actually the most dangerous time of the entire withdrawal process. Now that I’m feeling relatively human again, it’s easy to think it might be ok to get high again. Just once. Not go on a run again or anything, just get a taste of heroin without jumpstarting my habit again. I know, of course, that this is total bullshit. If I slip now I’ll be off and running again and that month of agony will have been for naught. But knowing the truth doesn’t stop your mind from playing tricks on you. Funny how that works. In that same way, now that I’ve got a few drinks in me, Sara looks like an irresistible lay.

“So, Trevor, do you expect to stay in San Francisco?” Sara’s boyfriend, Andy asks me.

“I’m thinkin’ I might stick around a little while. Not missing the winter back East, know what I mean?”

“I hear that, not that I’ve ever lived there or anything. Just imagining what a NY winter is like.” he replies.

“Yeah man, it’s no joke.”

He’s really a nice enough guy, even with his dorky glasses and stupid un-scuffed New Balance running sneakers. I mean who am I to come in here and fuck things up for him? He’s generous enough to share his meat and mead with me and all I can think to do is steal his shit and fuck his girlfriend. But hey, it’s how I’m living. I reach into the brown paper bag at my feet and use my pink mini-bic lighter to pop the cap off another Dos Equis.  I offer it to him, but he shakes his head in refusal. Hey, I tried.

We keep up a minimal level of small talk till the girls return from the kitchen where they’ve been busy giggling and talking about whatever stupid shit girls talk about. The two of them went to college back on the East coast together and they haven’t seen each other in a while. Talk about tiresome. Anne gives me a glance as she re-enters the room and I roll my eyes at her to try and signal that I need rescuing here.

I catch Sara looking at me again. I smile and make direct eye contact with her. I wait till she can’t take it anymore and looks away. I turn my attention back to Andy.

“So where did you two meet anyway?” he asks. All these questions! Jesus Christ...

“Aw, you know… Anne and I go way back. Back to Massachusetts. We’re old pals.

“Really? So how long have you two been together then? I mean, like as a couple…” Anne looks at me. Apparently she’s interested in hearing the answer to this one as well.

“We’re not a couple, dude.” I need to shut this line of inquiry down, stat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to presume…”

“Then don’t, dude!” You don’t mean to presume? What kind of bullshit is this! This fucker is messing with me. The gloves are coming off!

“Sensitive subject, apparently…” Anne says. That’s one cool thing about Anne. At least in public she doesn’t let shit like that get to her. I mean, she’s probably dying for me to date her exclusively, but she’s not going to let these people know that. “So what did Matt do when he got there?” She says in an attempt to jumpstart her previous conversation.

I’m not going to let this dickhead ruin my evening. I decide to get my drink-on and then proceed with my evening. There are vaginas to be conquered out there.

“What’s the liquor situation around here, anyway?” I ask fuck-nuts (that would be Andy).

“Umm, we’re not the biggest drinkers. I’m not sure we have anything…” Andy bleats.

“Fucking figures,” I say, under my breath for the most part. Suddenly I’m having a hard time controlling my distaste for this dweeb.

“Actually, we have some vodka in the freezer, I think,” Sara pipes up.

“That’ll work!” I say, jumping up from the couch. She gets up and I let her lead the way into the kitchen. She opens the freezer door and pulls out a half-full bottle of Absolute.

“I don’t know what we have to mix it with—“ She says as she opens the refrigerator door. I put my hand on the bottle, letting my pinky rest on top of her hand. Our flesh coming into contact gives her a jolt. She turns and looks intently into my eyes. Her face registers surprise. I don’t know why she’d be surprised when she’s been eye fucking me since I walked in the door. She’s probably not used to dealing with a real man.

 “Don’t sweat the mixer. I’ll just take a glass with some ice.” I say calmly.

She pulls her hand away and leaves me holding the bottle as she grabs a few cubes from the icemaker and puts them into a glass for me.

“Here you go.” She puts the glass down on the table and turns to walk back into the living room. The intensity of our interaction is probably freaking out. I get an eyeful of her ass on the way out the door. Not the worst one I’ve ever seen. I pour myself a healthy drink.

Back in the living room the conversation is as weary-inducing as when I left. I mean, I literally contemplate fashioning a noose from the drapery cords and hanging myself out of sheer boredom. I finish my drink in 3 or 4 gulps and decide it’s time to hit the street, time to go downtown and score some blow. I try to signal my intentions to Anne by running a finger along my nostril but she doesn’t seem to catch on. Eventually though, the pace of the girls gabbing slows down enough for me to interject, “Anne, so what do you think? You want to hit the Metro? See if we can’t get into some trouble?”

“Can you just relax for 5 minutes? We’ll head over in a bit.” She replies sternly. As she’s the one buying the drinks I don’t have much choice but to chill out. I reach into the jacket that I’ve draped over the arm of the couch and produce a mangled cigarette from the inside pocket. It’s the next to last one in the pack. Fucking hate softpacks. I light it. “Hey, you guys got an ashtray handy?” I ask.

Andy shoots daggers at me with his eyes. “Actually, we don’t smoke in here. Would you mind stepping outside to smoke that?”

Figures. “No problem. Where’s the porch?”

“Umm, there’s no porch. I guess just head down to the street. I don’t think our neighbors would appreciate you smoking in the hallway.” It’s my turn to shoot daggers, which I do, at Anne as I head out the apartment door. What was she thinking bringing me over here to joust with these losers? I head down the two flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air feels good. I’m buzzing nicely.

Just as I’m about to douse my cigarette and head back upstairs, Anne steps out the front door, which slams shut and locks behind her.

“Do you think you could have been any more rude up there?” she says. She looks pissed.

“What? That guy was a douche bag!”

“You are a guest! In his home! The least you could do is not act like an asshole.”

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture. You ready? Let’s go to the Metro and score some blow.” I ask.

She sighs. “Trevor, I swear. You act so immature sometimes…” I grab her hands and look into her eyes.

“So, is that a yes?” She cracks the slightest smile. “I gotta grab my jacket. Hold on one sec.” I turn and ring Andy and Sara’s buzzer.

A second later, “Hello?” the intercom crackles with Sara’s voice.

“Hey! It’s Trevor, I gotta grab my jacket! Buzz me in!” I shout.

The door buzzes, I open it and bound up the stairs. Just as round the last corner before the apartment door, Sara comes out into the dimly lit hallway, holding my leather coat.

“Oh cool,” I say, reaching out and grabbing the jacket, making sure to maintain eye contact. “Thanks… Hey, it was nice to meet you…”

“Nice to meet you too, I guess we’ll see you around?” she asks rather formally, still there’s a glint in her eye. This is clearly my opening.

“Yeah absolutely, let’s plan on it,” I say, as I reach around her and grab her ass with my right hand. “Let me get your number, I’ll call you and we can hang out. Just me and you…” I go in for the kiss.

“What the fuck!” she shouts as she pulls away from me. She spins around, but she’s on the outside and I’m between her and the door.

I smile. Nice! She wants to play this game! I love it when they play hard to get. “Come on girl, you know that loser in there can’t give you what you need. I’ll treat you like a real woman…” I reach up with my left hand and attempt to squeeze her nip.

Sara bats my hand away, hard, and makes a lunge towards the door. “Andy!” she shouts. What the fuck is going on here? “Help, Andy!” she shouts again.

“Alright, alright. Take it easy. I guess I just misread the signals. Calm—“

“—Signals? What the fuck do you mean, signals? You fucking creep—“ she howls.

I put my hands up defensively. “—Seriously, easy! I’m going! I’m going…” I turn around to head back down the stairs. I look up and Andy has appeared. He puts his arm around Sara, who still wears an incredulous look on her face.

“What’s going on?!” Andy asks.

“Just go! Get the fuck out of here!” Sara says.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going. Take it easy.” I retreat down the stairs and out of their view. I hear the apartment door slam behind them and Sara’s raised voice as I imagine she explains to him what happened. Fucking losers. Bitch deserves that pussy-ass boyfriend.

Anne is waiting for me out on the sidewalk. I put my arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze. She looks up at me and I give her as self-assured a smile as I can manage. “Let’s do this.” I say. She smiles back at me and we walk back down the street towards Mission. Women. What are you gonna do.

2 thoughts on “San Francisco Sojourn”

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