Heartburn (Asheville, North Carolina)
1 January 2019
I had no pants. I had no underwear. I had no sheet or blanket. I just had dirty, fluffy pillows on a couch that sat in the middle of a filthy living room. So I dug my toes where the pillows would allow and covered my ass against the back cushions of the couch.
Then I tried to relax although my chest was burning and my stomach was convulsing. I heard the woman I had arrived with snoring in her bedroom. I wanted to sneak to her room and get the anti-acid pills from the Ziploc bag near her bed. But I couldn’t distinguish the junk and trash that was on the floor and nearly tripping. Twice when going to the bathroom to vomit, I had leaned down to pet her dog to find it was just a black pile of discarded clothes.
When we arrived at my date’s place, she drove, she started pouring me more beers even when I told her I didn’t want any and she then began playing karaoke music videos on her laptop. Then she asked me to sing with her. And I tried. But I could feel the room spinning and the acid bubbling up from my gut.
Heartburn.
When she could tell that I was no longer able to function, she slapped the laptop screen down over the keyboard and told me to follow her to the bedroom.
I actually just wanted to crawl up on the couch and go to sleep.
She wanted sex. So when I stumbled to her bed - just a mattress on a floor surrounded by thrown, dirty clothes, she commenced to unbuckling my belt and yanking down my slacks. I didn’t fight back nor did I respond to her touch. My insides were in agony.
I crumbled into her bed. And she took her fingers and dug into the elastic waistband of my underwear then tugged. Tugged again until they were on my feet. I paddled my legs until they were gone. And I laid there with no pants. No underwear. Just a black button down shirt.
She then put her hand on me hoping to find it ready to work. But it was soft bulge but nothing more. She tried to kiss me but I coughed. And I pulled away to apologize.
“I am college class 101 about how not to be romantic,” I said.
She giggled and pulled off her clothes. Her top first exposing her bra and then she popped it open from her cleavage. Her breasts bounced out. Then she slipped off her panty bottoms. Then she quickly said, “I need to put a tampon in.” She stood up. “I don’t want you to wake up in a pool of my menstrual blood.”
She disappeared into the bathroom. But she never shut the door. I could hear all of her movements, opening the cabinet, pulling the plastic applicator out of the box, tearing the paper off, hearing her sit on the commode, the jet of her peeing, and then I heard her hips move and rustle and her make an umph! noise. She flushed and hurried back to her room and the mattress.
I had gathered the sheets around me as a protective shield. But she tore them off of me and she saw me quivering from my fever.
“Are you cold?”
I tried to answer but my teeth chattered.
Nakedly she hurried to the hallway. And suddenly the central heat and air came alive and started blowing stale, hot air in my face. She was back now and she straddled me and tried to kiss me.
I kissed back. And suddenly I felt my softness give way to hardness.
But then I had to puke.
“I am sorry,” And I jumped up quickly and went to the bathroom. There I stuck my head in the white toilet with dark stains around the rim - and from that view, I vomited.
After several rounds of emptying my stomach, I used the toothpaste tube next to the sink, slimed some paste on my finger, rubbed my teeth and tongue, then spit and gargled. I then returned to her room and she was snoring.
I took that as my cue, and I tried to quietly look for my underwear she had taken off me. I leaned down to pick up what I thought was my underwear, but it was an old black blouse she had thrown on the floor days before.
I accidentally bumped the wall and heard her snoring stop for a second. I froze and waited. Then suddenly, the snoring began again and I gave up. I made my way to the living room.
I had no pants. I had no underwear. I had no sheet or blanket. I just had dirty, fluffy pillows on a couch that sat in the middle of a filthy living room. So I dug my toes where the pillows would allow and covered my ass against the back cushions of the couch.
Happy New Year to me.
