"This is what you do for a living uh? shallow..."
"what?"
"I said SHALLOW"
"right, and I have answered WHAT IS SHALLOW?"
"You think you are a writer, but your stories seem a collage of horny fan girls thoughts...pathetic."
I couldn' reply much to his comment. He was right.
Since I had been able to hold a pen properly I didn't want to do anything else than writing, and it went so on for years.
When i turned nineteen, I entered university (just because my mother wasn't giving up the "family business" story). In the day I had to study and at night I was working on my novel, I was writing that one tale I wanted to link my name to.
I graduated and finished my book at the same time, after that I moved away from my family house before my mother could finish suffocating me and I begun introducing my books to some editors.
Thanks to some acquaintances from school I found an evening job in a pub and a day job as a newspaper boy and with the money I could pay the rent of the one room I had moved to.
After a few weeks I got an e-mail:
Dear Mr. Bitter,
we have read your manuscript and we really are interested in your style. Your tale has something different from the ones we have received until now, and we are interested in discussing with you about a possible cooperation.
please, get in contact with our assistant to fix an appointment.
Sincerely,
M. Saini
I couldn't believe it! I immediately called for an appointment and the day after I was sitting in the waiting room of Mr. Saini.
The heavy wooden door went open and a gray-haired man came out.
"Mr. Bitter, I suppose...I am Mr. Saini, please, come in..." he said showing me the room with his large hand.
The office was sober, on the wall a big nude photograph portraying a muscular model in a classical pose.
Mr. Saini sat on his chair and I took place in front of him.
"Do you want something to drink? I'll let it bring for you..." he asked
"No, thanks..." I answered. I didn't know why but i didn't like the man, I had the impression he was being polite to find an easy way to fuck me around.
"I want to go immediately to the point with you, Mr. Bitter or can I call you Boris?" I saw it coming
"We normally don't publish anything without a contribution of the author. We really are interested in your story, but until you don't proof yourself able to make us earn money, we are not ready to invest on you. Your style is fine, but you still have to refine your skills...probably you still did not see enough of the world to appeal the reader and break out in originality."
I was listening very carefully trying to read among the lines.
"Of course, there are compromises. You could sign a contract in which we will own your work and that way you will allow us to make some little modifications to your story...you know Boris, we know the market, we are in this business since years! The big audience doesn't like to read about reality, they prefer to read about action, sex and incredible events; your characters are too normal. They are ugly and sad like we all are. We don't want to read about something we are obliged to experience every day...you understand?"
"I understand perfectly..." I replied without loosing my temper "you want me and my book to become one of your bitches."
"Boris, don't take it personally. Personally I really like your work, and I like you too, but I am not the only one deciding..."
"No problem" I said standing up "I think my time here is out. thanks for inviting me Mr. Saini".
I turned away but he stopped me at the door "Think about it" he said, his face much too near to my face "I'd really like to work with you"
The scent of his expensive perfume filled my nostrils, making me dizzy.
I opened the door and I ran out without looking back.
When I got back home I threw myself on the bed and I began crying like a kid. I felt so humiliated, I thought that kind of stuff was real only in cheap fiction but he had really tried to buy me, maybe if I would have offered him my ass he wouldn't even have mentioned changing my novel.
I ran to the toilet and I vomited, my hands pushed in my stomach, my eyes full of tears. Then I washed my face, I returned on my bed and I opened my laptop.
A new document, virgin white, was waiting for me to be filled in.
A few second of concentrations then the words began to flow out of my fingers like cum and I wrote the most obscene story I had ever heard about. I filled it with shallow details, cheap actions and a lot of sex, after that I have opened my blog and I have pasted the tale in a new post.
"Now that..." I said to myself "This is porn!" I had to laugh about it.
I actually liked it and while revising it I almost got an erection. It was not shining in originality, but it was pleasant to read.
After publishing the short on the net, I have been contacted from a few erotic magazines and I now write some stories for them, from time to time. I am an employee in the rest of my time (not in the family business!), and I still work in that pub in the evening.
I still have one little dream: seeing my novel published. But dreams sometimes are made to be left in the drawer and give your life a sense, day after day.
"Hey Bo, I hope you don't hate me now, you know that I am the kind of guy who sais what he thinks...I can't help.."
Joy was looking at me with a worried shadow on his face.
"Never mind..." I told him "...I know you are right"
He was lying on the couch, one of his legs hanging out of it, he kept his hands under his head.
"Now you think I am an old perv, don't you?"
"Bah, I don't think it, I know it!" he replied smirking.
"You little jerk!" I told him sitting myself on the ground next to him.
"Say, Joy...why are you always so cold to me? I am here melting for you and you cannot relax..."
"I don't know...I am just shy, maybe...come on! You piss me off with this kind of questions".
I turned and I kissed him. He let himself be kissed but didn't respond to my action.
"Anything you feel like doing?" he nodded and he sat on the sofa pulling me up to sit next to him.
While he was kissing me I had this idea that writing is like cooking, you can prepare fabulous dishes and maybe some people will like them, but there will always be a certain amount of people who don't. Of course, if I would write like I cook, it would seriously be better for me to stop, but I am sure I can be a good writer, and I am not going to stop writing for anything or anybody.
Writing doesn't mean publishing, and since I am destined to die young I have probably lost my chance to do it already. It's not how many books you have published the parameter making of yourself a novelist or not, but the stories you have to tell, the emotions you have to convey.
I still have some stories left in my minstrel's pouch and some more could come.
languid hours with my shy lover surely help my creativity anyway, so if you can excuse me...I have to go getting inspired!
Saturday, 26 February 2011
Friday, 25 February 2011
Rough
With you it has to be rough.
You don’t like sentimentalism and you don’t like beauty. Sex has to hurt to feel real, the same is true for love.
I am your slave but there should be limits. I don’t like you to laugh at me. I don’t like you to sell my body and my soul, to other ghosts. I don’t like you to have sex with him while I am watching.
Marcus is a nice guy, but he thinks he owns you, and you let him think that, just because you like the way he looks down at me. He’s noting more than a bottom to you, just like me.
But I have something he’s never going to have. I’ve got your tears.
Can you still remember the night we met? You had just been dumped from the one and only man who ever had your respect. You were down at the “Paradise” and Carl was filling one glass after the other for you. You were as smashed as you could be. When I entered the pub I tried to ignore you but you came next to me and you told me your first cheesy line “I think you have a very nice ass can I check?”
“Asshole” that was the only thing I could reply and when you tried to kiss me I gave you a punch on your face, hurting myself more than I hurt you. I ran out of the pub, you came after me.
“What do you want? get the hell away from me…” you grabbed my hands and pushed me to the wall. Your eyes where wet. For a second I thought you looked cute. But than you kissed me and the smell of beer made me sick.
“I am pathetic. I know. But I think you could heal my heart. I need your body tonight”
what the hell…I thought.
I stopped fighting. You kissed me and I kissed you back. You immediately showed me who was going to rule.
We ended up in my bed. You hurt me, until pain and pleasure became one. You didn’t even know my name. So you called me honey, the only sweet touch in our story.
When you came with a sore noise coming out of your throat I was crying and you made me come with your big hands, crying his name on my shoulder,then you dressed, and you threw a visit card on my night table:
“Call me. I liked it”
When you stepped out the door I felt I had become your slave, I felt our tears had set a link between us forever.
This is something I am never going to tell Marcus: the pain you give me makes our love stronger, the pleasure you give him is just the prelude to a farewell.
People can be deceived.
I’ll call you anyway, because I like it too, every single time.
You don’t like sentimentalism and you don’t like beauty. Sex has to hurt to feel real, the same is true for love.
I am your slave but there should be limits. I don’t like you to laugh at me. I don’t like you to sell my body and my soul, to other ghosts. I don’t like you to have sex with him while I am watching.
Marcus is a nice guy, but he thinks he owns you, and you let him think that, just because you like the way he looks down at me. He’s noting more than a bottom to you, just like me.
But I have something he’s never going to have. I’ve got your tears.
Can you still remember the night we met? You had just been dumped from the one and only man who ever had your respect. You were down at the “Paradise” and Carl was filling one glass after the other for you. You were as smashed as you could be. When I entered the pub I tried to ignore you but you came next to me and you told me your first cheesy line “I think you have a very nice ass can I check?”
“Asshole” that was the only thing I could reply and when you tried to kiss me I gave you a punch on your face, hurting myself more than I hurt you. I ran out of the pub, you came after me.
“What do you want? get the hell away from me…” you grabbed my hands and pushed me to the wall. Your eyes where wet. For a second I thought you looked cute. But than you kissed me and the smell of beer made me sick.
“I am pathetic. I know. But I think you could heal my heart. I need your body tonight”
what the hell…I thought.
I stopped fighting. You kissed me and I kissed you back. You immediately showed me who was going to rule.
We ended up in my bed. You hurt me, until pain and pleasure became one. You didn’t even know my name. So you called me honey, the only sweet touch in our story.
When you came with a sore noise coming out of your throat I was crying and you made me come with your big hands, crying his name on my shoulder,then you dressed, and you threw a visit card on my night table:
“Call me. I liked it”
When you stepped out the door I felt I had become your slave, I felt our tears had set a link between us forever.
This is something I am never going to tell Marcus: the pain you give me makes our love stronger, the pleasure you give him is just the prelude to a farewell.
People can be deceived.
I’ll call you anyway, because I like it too, every single time.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Cherry
Mel woke up. He had fallen asleep on the couch, and that was not his own couch. His head was aching. He tried to recollect the memories of the past night.
He was at the “Paradise”, he already had a few drinks, the last one he could remember was a cocktail cherry and he could still taste the cherry through the sour taste of alcohol.
“You’re awake, finally…”
“Bo…Boris? What am I doing at your place?”
“Sorry for not having let you sleep on the parking of the “Paradise”, next time I’ll stick with my first thought and walk away. What were you trying to do?”
Mel tried to remember. Some confused images came to his mind. The image of Himself entering the door of his flat, and Kevin kissing with Nora. His knuckles reaching Kevin’s nose. The race with his motorbike to the “Paradise”. The first drink, possibly a Martini, followed by how many? He couldn’t remember precisely.
“Sorry…” he moaned towards Boris “…and thanks”
Boris, disappeared for a while coming back with a mug full of coffee.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“the reason why you were trying to drink the whole “Paradise” stock in one nigh?”
“drop it”
“As you wish”
Boris didn’t change since the last time he had seen him, and he didn’t loose the habit of taking him out of troubles. Mel felt annoyed for a moment. He always acted like a big brother, minding his business and giving him lectures with the cocky attitude of an old son of a bitch.
“I’ll drive you home” said Boris standing up “than you can take a shower and sleep in your own bed for a couple of hours before going to work”
Last thing Mel wanted was to go back home and get to see that bastard of Kevin making up excuses.
“Can I stay? Just for tonight?” he hated to ask, but being lectured from Boris was not so bad compared to what was expecting him at home.
“Alright than, but I am not going to give you my bed. You’ll sleep on the couch and you have to get out of here as soon as possible ok?”
“If you don’t want me to stay you don’t have to force yourself” Mel got irritated all of a sudden. He stood up
“I’ll be fine” he said grabbing the leather jacket from a chair and he headed to the door.
Boris reached it first and he went standing in front of it. He closed his eyes and Mel could see his troubled expression through the light beam of a street lantern hitting his face.
“I want you to stay” he said roughly.
Mel dropped his jacket. What was that? He expected Boris to scold him or to open the door for him. What was that just now?
Last time they had seen each other it was during a New Year party two years before. They were both quite drunk but, unlike Mel, Boris was still able to step and use his brain quite sharply.
After the party Boris had taken Mel to his apartment.
Mel could still remember it.
Boris carrying him in his car.
Himself vomiting on the edge of the street.
Boris undressing him and laying him in his bed.
Himself pulling Boris towards him.
A kiss. Boris touching him, himself kissing Boris chest and his hands going down and unzipping his trousers.
Boris suddenly going away from him.
“You are too drunk; you’re going to regret this”
That had been the last sentence he heard from him until that nigh.
“So, now I am not too drunk for you anymore?”
Boris shook his head. “You didn’t forget. I didn’t mean to hurt you or to reject you back than Mel. It was just not the right moment”
“And it is tonight…”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mel picked up his jacket on the floor “Let me go!” he tried to move Boris from the door but the man took his arm and he pulled him towards himself.
Mel felt his legs becoming weak but he tried to resist by sulking.
“You are such a jerk! Why didn’t you ever look for me?”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
Boris lifted him on his shoulder and Mel laughed pretending to be annoyed.
“Let me go old perv…”
Mel fell on the bed. Boris room was still the same: the wall painted in red, the big bed, with those cheap flowery sheets, the smell of wet coming from the ceiling.
Boris took away his shirt his grey eyes hooked into Mel’s green ones.
Mel was paralyzed, how much did he want that? He felt dizzy, aroused…lost.
Boris undressed him kissing him gently at first but Mel felt he was loosing control and he pushed him on the bed.
He wanted to taste every single inch of his body and this time Boris was not going to stop him.
Boris didn’t make a noise; he only felt his muscles tensing under his lips.
When Mel’s mouth reached his erection Boris whispered a moan
“M-Mel, don’t teas…”
“I am getting crazy already, why don’t you just take me now?” Mel was not able to flirt. His thoughts and his feelings were much to complicating to be put into romance.
He needed to feel him.
Boris stood on his knees, grabbed Mel’s waist and he turned him pushing his head on the pillow. He caressed his back clinging on him and he pushed himself inside him, slowly.
Mel’s eyes filled with tears. He bit the pillow, his body shivered.
Boris moans made him crazy. Mel closed his eyes and he listened to the voice of Boris whispering his name while the rhythm of his flesh pushing into him made his tension grow.
Boris hand grabbed Mel’s erection and began moving faster. The sound of their heavy breaths made their excitement grow to the climax when they both fell on the bed exhausted.
Boris squeezed Mel in his arms.
Mel giggled.
“You smell of cherry…” said Boris.
“I actually smell of you now, and I like it. Can I sleep here, or you want me to go on the couch?”
“What do you think, idiot…”
“I think I don’t feel like sleeping”
He gave Boris another cherry kiss and he disappeared under the sheets.
“You’re awake, finally…”
“Bo…Boris? What am I doing at your place?”
“Sorry for not having let you sleep on the parking of the “Paradise”, next time I’ll stick with my first thought and walk away. What were you trying to do?”
Mel tried to remember. Some confused images came to his mind. The image of Himself entering the door of his flat, and Kevin kissing with Nora. His knuckles reaching Kevin’s nose. The race with his motorbike to the “Paradise”. The first drink, possibly a Martini, followed by how many? He couldn’t remember precisely.
“Sorry…” he moaned towards Boris “…and thanks”
Boris, disappeared for a while coming back with a mug full of coffee.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“the reason why you were trying to drink the whole “Paradise” stock in one nigh?”
“drop it”
“As you wish”
Boris didn’t change since the last time he had seen him, and he didn’t loose the habit of taking him out of troubles. Mel felt annoyed for a moment. He always acted like a big brother, minding his business and giving him lectures with the cocky attitude of an old son of a bitch.
“I’ll drive you home” said Boris standing up “than you can take a shower and sleep in your own bed for a couple of hours before going to work”
Last thing Mel wanted was to go back home and get to see that bastard of Kevin making up excuses.
“Can I stay? Just for tonight?” he hated to ask, but being lectured from Boris was not so bad compared to what was expecting him at home.
“Alright than, but I am not going to give you my bed. You’ll sleep on the couch and you have to get out of here as soon as possible ok?”
“If you don’t want me to stay you don’t have to force yourself” Mel got irritated all of a sudden. He stood up
“I’ll be fine” he said grabbing the leather jacket from a chair and he headed to the door.
Boris reached it first and he went standing in front of it. He closed his eyes and Mel could see his troubled expression through the light beam of a street lantern hitting his face.
“I want you to stay” he said roughly.
Mel dropped his jacket. What was that? He expected Boris to scold him or to open the door for him. What was that just now?
Last time they had seen each other it was during a New Year party two years before. They were both quite drunk but, unlike Mel, Boris was still able to step and use his brain quite sharply.
After the party Boris had taken Mel to his apartment.
Mel could still remember it.
Boris carrying him in his car.
Himself vomiting on the edge of the street.
Boris undressing him and laying him in his bed.
Himself pulling Boris towards him.
A kiss. Boris touching him, himself kissing Boris chest and his hands going down and unzipping his trousers.
Boris suddenly going away from him.
“You are too drunk; you’re going to regret this”
That had been the last sentence he heard from him until that nigh.
“So, now I am not too drunk for you anymore?”
Boris shook his head. “You didn’t forget. I didn’t mean to hurt you or to reject you back than Mel. It was just not the right moment”
“And it is tonight…”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mel picked up his jacket on the floor “Let me go!” he tried to move Boris from the door but the man took his arm and he pulled him towards himself.
Mel felt his legs becoming weak but he tried to resist by sulking.
“You are such a jerk! Why didn’t you ever look for me?”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
Boris lifted him on his shoulder and Mel laughed pretending to be annoyed.
“Let me go old perv…”
Mel fell on the bed. Boris room was still the same: the wall painted in red, the big bed, with those cheap flowery sheets, the smell of wet coming from the ceiling.
Boris took away his shirt his grey eyes hooked into Mel’s green ones.
Mel was paralyzed, how much did he want that? He felt dizzy, aroused…lost.
Boris undressed him kissing him gently at first but Mel felt he was loosing control and he pushed him on the bed.
He wanted to taste every single inch of his body and this time Boris was not going to stop him.
Boris didn’t make a noise; he only felt his muscles tensing under his lips.
When Mel’s mouth reached his erection Boris whispered a moan
“M-Mel, don’t teas…”
“I am getting crazy already, why don’t you just take me now?” Mel was not able to flirt. His thoughts and his feelings were much to complicating to be put into romance.
He needed to feel him.
Boris stood on his knees, grabbed Mel’s waist and he turned him pushing his head on the pillow. He caressed his back clinging on him and he pushed himself inside him, slowly.
Mel’s eyes filled with tears. He bit the pillow, his body shivered.
Boris moans made him crazy. Mel closed his eyes and he listened to the voice of Boris whispering his name while the rhythm of his flesh pushing into him made his tension grow.
Boris hand grabbed Mel’s erection and began moving faster. The sound of their heavy breaths made their excitement grow to the climax when they both fell on the bed exhausted.
Boris squeezed Mel in his arms.
Mel giggled.
“You smell of cherry…” said Boris.
“I actually smell of you now, and I like it. Can I sleep here, or you want me to go on the couch?”
“What do you think, idiot…”
“I think I don’t feel like sleeping”
He gave Boris another cherry kiss and he disappeared under the sheets.
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Side Stories #2 – Tate x Aki
[MXM]
Aki has red hair, he is fragile, you would think he is a dreamer.
Aki has red hair, he is fragile, you would think he is a dreamer.
Friday, 17 September 2010
At this rate…that is…(what a f***ing title is this actually!)
I cannot stop thinking about you. I know this is the line of an highschool girl, and not the love letter of a man, but that’s how I feel about you.
After so much time since we last met, the image of you begins to fade, but I still remember your taste, the touch of your hands, the depth of your eyes.
I am not writing you to give you compliments. I am writing you to set myself free from this obsession. I am not in love, that’s what I like to think, I am just charmed from the memories of pleasure and from the little gap of unknown that comes from the fact we have always remained strangers to each other.
You think I am an old maniac and I think you are a wild young man, and I have had proof we match, in bed at least.
You finally answered to my message, just to tell me you’ll let me know when you are free, eventually. a little “x” and the fact you answered at night to make me hope that even if we are not meant to be together in life, we’ll burn together again.
I would like to know what you are thinking. The fact I am old, and the fact I am a man, as you are, doesn’t mean that I cannot be interested in having a piece of your mind. Let me know what you think, I beg you. I am nothing but amusement for you…good, let it be, but then I’ll know where I am standing.
I need to know if you feel something, that won’t change my behaviour towards you, but it will set up myself towards myself.
There are two parts of me fighting each other, a dreamer which is consuming in his own memories of happiness, an old ass-hole who knows that love is just a big bag where we throw all the feeling we cannot give a label too and that pheromones are often worse than poison.
Do you think I am a bitch? I am. I am a bitch sold to passion, because I cannot bear the thought that relationships are made to fall into giving each other for granted and to share a cold bed, just to end up old, unable to move, full of shit, hoping to be the first one to fall not to need to take care of the other.
I know too many people who stay together because it’s convenient or not to hurt their family, or because they have children they can’t stand to leave behind. In the name of love we kill our personalities, we accept goddamned compromises and we live a life we do not own.
I have run away from this, hurting the ones I thought I loved, hurting myself to the edge of endurance. And still I look for love. That love which is the only thing I’ve been hurt by in my entire life.
This is not a trick to pull you into my bed. Do I want to have sex with you? You got to be kidding me. God only knows how much I want you, but the point of this is do I want to be moaning in the arms of someone considering me shallow? Am I ready to be the sperm receiving ass for a person judging me not worthy? I don’t know.
I cannot know the answer until I don’t know what you think. I cannot know my feeling until I don’t hear you say “Boris, you are a bitch I just want to fuck you and if you would be any other asshole in the world it would not make any difference for me”. When I have to confront with this, I’ll understand.
I just need you to kill me and raise from my ashes, eventually.
My mobile phone is on. I keep it on my night table, just in case.
x
Boris.
PS: at this rate…that is…
Sunday, 12 September 2010
It’s hard to admit that…
…life is a bitch, who is always too expensive for me.
another sleepless night…I wonder what a crap will get out of it…
do you actually mind?
another sleepless night…I wonder what a crap will get out of it…
do you actually mind?
Saturday, 11 September 2010
Side Stories #1: Glance (when a true story seems fiction…)
First thing I did coming back home from work was starting my computer and checking my mail. I thought he liked me because when I gave him my e-mail address on a pice of paper from my packet of cigarettes he smiled.
It’s better I don’t think about it…it’s becoming an obsession I said to myself
I met him a few days ago, he works for a company installing fire alarm systems and he is working in our company on a time contract since a few weeks. I called him “the flying Dutchman” because he worked constantly near to the ceiling. One day I entered the container in the smokers zone and he was there sitting on the ground, dirty and sweaty a red Coke cap covering his face, the cigarette hanging on the corner of his mouth.
Nobody was there. I normally don’t stare at people, surely not at guys, but with him I couldn’t help.
He took away his cap showing his mohawk and his blue eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was handsome, but his eyes were of a blue I had never seen.
He looked at me without changing expression and when I realized I was staring I felt my cheeks getting warmer.
“Sorry I was staring…I actually thought you were sleeping…or sort of” I said. No answer from his part. Probably he thought I was an idiot, or he understood immediately that I liked him, probably he was used to it.
He stood up, towering on me (I am 165 cm you know…that happens all the time!) and he said: “Can I have a Cig from you to smoke later? I finished mines” I nodded and took out my packet “Menthol?” he commented “well, I…” I tried to say something but he turned away and he went out without adding a word.
The day after I didn’t see him in the smoker’s room. After smoking my cigarette, I took the stair back to my office and I found him there, with a packet of Marlboro in his hand.
“Here” he said “learn to smoke like a man” then he turned to go down the stairs.
I had to do something! I had to see him again! ”Wait…” I said; I took out the pen from my pocket, I pulled off a piece of paper from my packet of cigarettes and I wrote quickly my e-mail address. I gave him the paper and he looked at it shortly, then he casted me a glance smiling.
”thanks” he said, and he disappeared down the stairs.
Fuck you Bo! why your e-mail address you nerd! you had to give him your phone number…it was too late in any case, now I just had to wait and see.
Since than almost a week had passed and I still didn’t get any message but everyday I checked it out, I am a die-hard…
That evening I decided to start MSN, maybe some of my friends would have been connected…at least I could chat and think about something else.
As I logged in a request for connection popped out “the Flying Dutchman”…NO WAY!
I accept immediately and he was online…
Flying Dutchman says: It took you so long, Menthol guy!
BorisDemon says: yeah, I have been busy
I lied without mercy! luckily you don’t see that in a chat.
Flying Dutchman says: well, now u’re here anything 2 say? you seemed so in a hurry to give me you e-mail address…if you would have given you tel n. instead it would have been quicker…
BorisDemon says: don’t mention it…
I confessed
Flying Dutchman says: do you like me?
BorisDemon says: u direct one uh?
Flying Dutchman says: So? Do you?
what do I say now? what do I say? what if I say yes and he laughs at me? shit, shit, shit!
BorisDemon says: what if I say yes?
Flying Dutchman says: I would say let’s meet…
Oh my fucking god! it can’t be true…
BorisDemon says: where?
Flying Dutchman says: in 10 min. at the carpool parking? I don’t live far from you so you know which one I mean?
BorisDemon says: yeah, but 10 min I don’t even have time to change…
Flying Dutchman says: you don’t need to be primping and don’t bring that cigarettes of yours…
BorisDemon says: jerk
Flying Dutchman says: :p
BorisDemon says: hey…
Flying Dutchman says: what?
BorisDemon says: what’s your name?
Flying Dutchman says: I’ll tell you later <3
Flying Dutchman is disconnected…
No way. I am going to meet him…now…will he like me too? of course, he wouldn’t have asked me to meet…but what if he only wants sex? Well, I want sex too..or not?
The time was passing so it was better to be getting going.
The road to the parking was not so long, about ten minutes, I put on my leather jacket and jumped into my car.
When I arrived he is already there waiting with his feet on the steering wheel. I parked my car front to front with his car. We looked at each other for a second then I decided to get out and go to him. His window was open and I bowed to look at him. His mouth reached mine and we kissed, as if it would be normal. He tasted of menthol (the jerk)
“Glenn” he said, “my name is Glenn”
He kissed me again “Close your car and come here” he whispered.
I pushed the lock button and my car clicked. I turned around and I went to seat at the passenger side.
“Surprised?” he said for the first time embarrassed
“I have to admit I am” I said “I never thought you could be…” “Gay?” he finished my phrase. I nodded.
“What do you feel like doing?” why leave this to me? I thought. My head was trying to look for alternatives.
“I want to have sex with you.” he stated. I tried to reply but he kissed me silent “I want to have sex with you, but I also want to get to know you better…I don’t know what you think…”
This time I pulled him towards me and I kissed him caressing his chest “I think the same.” he smiled again and he looked at me his eyes right into mine.
We kissed and caressed each other for a long time, and when we realized what time it was all around it was dark.
“I want you to come to my place…” he said “I want to come to your place..” I replied “but I am going to smoke menthol”
he laughed out loud than he pulled me towards him and he licked my lips with the point of his tongue “mh…It’s not so bad…”
I woke up in his bed the day after and he was looking at me while I was sleeping. I thought it was so difficult to find love, but Glenn made me change my mind.
I also had an impact though: I made him change his cigarettes…he smokes menthol now…:D
It’s better I don’t think about it…it’s becoming an obsession I said to myself
I met him a few days ago, he works for a company installing fire alarm systems and he is working in our company on a time contract since a few weeks. I called him “the flying Dutchman” because he worked constantly near to the ceiling. One day I entered the container in the smokers zone and he was there sitting on the ground, dirty and sweaty a red Coke cap covering his face, the cigarette hanging on the corner of his mouth.
Nobody was there. I normally don’t stare at people, surely not at guys, but with him I couldn’t help.
He took away his cap showing his mohawk and his blue eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was handsome, but his eyes were of a blue I had never seen.
He looked at me without changing expression and when I realized I was staring I felt my cheeks getting warmer.
“Sorry I was staring…I actually thought you were sleeping…or sort of” I said. No answer from his part. Probably he thought I was an idiot, or he understood immediately that I liked him, probably he was used to it.
He stood up, towering on me (I am 165 cm you know…that happens all the time!) and he said: “Can I have a Cig from you to smoke later? I finished mines” I nodded and took out my packet “Menthol?” he commented “well, I…” I tried to say something but he turned away and he went out without adding a word.
The day after I didn’t see him in the smoker’s room. After smoking my cigarette, I took the stair back to my office and I found him there, with a packet of Marlboro in his hand.
“Here” he said “learn to smoke like a man” then he turned to go down the stairs.
I had to do something! I had to see him again! ”Wait…” I said; I took out the pen from my pocket, I pulled off a piece of paper from my packet of cigarettes and I wrote quickly my e-mail address. I gave him the paper and he looked at it shortly, then he casted me a glance smiling.
”thanks” he said, and he disappeared down the stairs.
Fuck you Bo! why your e-mail address you nerd! you had to give him your phone number…it was too late in any case, now I just had to wait and see.
Since than almost a week had passed and I still didn’t get any message but everyday I checked it out, I am a die-hard…
That evening I decided to start MSN, maybe some of my friends would have been connected…at least I could chat and think about something else.
As I logged in a request for connection popped out “the Flying Dutchman”…NO WAY!
I accept immediately and he was online…
Flying Dutchman says: It took you so long, Menthol guy!
BorisDemon says: yeah, I have been busy
I lied without mercy! luckily you don’t see that in a chat.
Flying Dutchman says: well, now u’re here anything 2 say? you seemed so in a hurry to give me you e-mail address…if you would have given you tel n. instead it would have been quicker…
BorisDemon says: don’t mention it…
I confessed
Flying Dutchman says: do you like me?
BorisDemon says: u direct one uh?
Flying Dutchman says: So? Do you?
what do I say now? what do I say? what if I say yes and he laughs at me? shit, shit, shit!
BorisDemon says: what if I say yes?
Flying Dutchman says: I would say let’s meet…
Oh my fucking god! it can’t be true…
BorisDemon says: where?
Flying Dutchman says: in 10 min. at the carpool parking? I don’t live far from you so you know which one I mean?
BorisDemon says: yeah, but 10 min I don’t even have time to change…
Flying Dutchman says: you don’t need to be primping and don’t bring that cigarettes of yours…
BorisDemon says: jerk
Flying Dutchman says: :p
BorisDemon says: hey…
Flying Dutchman says: what?
BorisDemon says: what’s your name?
Flying Dutchman says: I’ll tell you later <3
Flying Dutchman is disconnected…
No way. I am going to meet him…now…will he like me too? of course, he wouldn’t have asked me to meet…but what if he only wants sex? Well, I want sex too..or not?
The time was passing so it was better to be getting going.
The road to the parking was not so long, about ten minutes, I put on my leather jacket and jumped into my car.
When I arrived he is already there waiting with his feet on the steering wheel. I parked my car front to front with his car. We looked at each other for a second then I decided to get out and go to him. His window was open and I bowed to look at him. His mouth reached mine and we kissed, as if it would be normal. He tasted of menthol (the jerk)
“Glenn” he said, “my name is Glenn”
He kissed me again “Close your car and come here” he whispered.
I pushed the lock button and my car clicked. I turned around and I went to seat at the passenger side.
“Surprised?” he said for the first time embarrassed
“I have to admit I am” I said “I never thought you could be…” “Gay?” he finished my phrase. I nodded.
“What do you feel like doing?” why leave this to me? I thought. My head was trying to look for alternatives.
“I want to have sex with you.” he stated. I tried to reply but he kissed me silent “I want to have sex with you, but I also want to get to know you better…I don’t know what you think…”
This time I pulled him towards me and I kissed him caressing his chest “I think the same.” he smiled again and he looked at me his eyes right into mine.
We kissed and caressed each other for a long time, and when we realized what time it was all around it was dark.
“I want you to come to my place…” he said “I want to come to your place..” I replied “but I am going to smoke menthol”
he laughed out loud than he pulled me towards him and he licked my lips with the point of his tongue “mh…It’s not so bad…”
I woke up in his bed the day after and he was looking at me while I was sleeping. I thought it was so difficult to find love, but Glenn made me change my mind.
I also had an impact though: I made him change his cigarettes…he smokes menthol now…:D
Friday, 10 September 2010
to point this out
I Like little old Boris, with his big nose, his chubby profile, the glasses and the little brown eyes.
I like him because he is simple and quiet, even if sometimes he is washed away from the storm he has inside.
I love his being a maniac, a freak, a dangerous individual.
I love the way he talks, his warm voice and his recurrent phrases.
I love him when he tries to be different from himself, when he is gloomy when he cannot stop talking about death or when he gets the burst of laughter (every time he has a good smoke for instance)
I love him when he is drunk and he becomes romantic or sad.
I love him when he feels like sex and he would fuck whatever passes by…I love him when he really thinks he has fallen in love.
Boris is my companion since more than 30 years, he sleeps with me, eats with me and he even jacks off with me.
Being Boris is not always easy, and the nights I spend at my computer trying to finish my book sometimes fall into shit, into porn or into alcohol…but that’s not such a deal. We survive.
Maybe I should begin being serious about things, but I feel that doing it I would feel the pressure of the world too hard on myself, I am not so strong after all. So I prefer to piss around.
Why do I write? Because I like it.
Why do I share? Because it feels like shouting my rage against the universe and it makes me a little bit happy.
I am warming up here, I am checking myself digging the grave hoping to get out the other side.
You are not obliged to read. But I am happy you are doing it.
You are allowed to judge, disagree, insult and criticize, I’d love to hear all of that, but you can stay in silence and I won’t claim.
I am going to give you a piece of my mind and really get out of the hole from now on…but what has been written remains (with the opportune modification…of course)
I am just a joker, closed in a room with no windows, suffocating in my own breath, hallucinated from my own visions. That’s where my dreams become my ideals, because clowns can have ideals too, and they are worthy like any others.
Well, I am done here. Thanks for listening
I like him because he is simple and quiet, even if sometimes he is washed away from the storm he has inside.
I love his being a maniac, a freak, a dangerous individual.
I love the way he talks, his warm voice and his recurrent phrases.
I love him when he tries to be different from himself, when he is gloomy when he cannot stop talking about death or when he gets the burst of laughter (every time he has a good smoke for instance)
I love him when he is drunk and he becomes romantic or sad.
I love him when he feels like sex and he would fuck whatever passes by…I love him when he really thinks he has fallen in love.
Boris is my companion since more than 30 years, he sleeps with me, eats with me and he even jacks off with me.
Being Boris is not always easy, and the nights I spend at my computer trying to finish my book sometimes fall into shit, into porn or into alcohol…but that’s not such a deal. We survive.
Maybe I should begin being serious about things, but I feel that doing it I would feel the pressure of the world too hard on myself, I am not so strong after all. So I prefer to piss around.
Why do I write? Because I like it.
Why do I share? Because it feels like shouting my rage against the universe and it makes me a little bit happy.
I am warming up here, I am checking myself digging the grave hoping to get out the other side.
You are not obliged to read. But I am happy you are doing it.
You are allowed to judge, disagree, insult and criticize, I’d love to hear all of that, but you can stay in silence and I won’t claim.
I am going to give you a piece of my mind and really get out of the hole from now on…but what has been written remains (with the opportune modification…of course)
I am just a joker, closed in a room with no windows, suffocating in my own breath, hallucinated from my own visions. That’s where my dreams become my ideals, because clowns can have ideals too, and they are worthy like any others.
Well, I am done here. Thanks for listening
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Once upon a dark time there was Boris…
“I have so much time to waste. There are moments in life, like in the death, in which you can afford spending some time thinking, with the only benefit of setting your spirit free. Now that my body is noting more than an empty shrine, I write this letter as my last farewell to a life I never had anything good from, besides the possibility to die.
The ones I met during my life, considered me the stereotype of a normal woman, so normal to became insignificant to the most, but in secret I lived a depraved life, like an anonymous Faust, selling my soul on the ghosts I met along the way and degenerating in a slow ticking of my damnation.
I was looking for eternal love, the idyll that never changes, a passion burning without consuming, like the sacred bush of my ancestors. I was looking for a man, a woman or a demon, that didn’t make any difference for me – I just wanted someone to share my heart, my soul, my bed and my monsters with. I was searching without success.
It’s looking for damnation that I went beyond the door. When I met the devil, I passed from a live without life, to a death without death.
It was at night. My car had driven me to a miserable pub of the suburbs. The barman made a lascivious grin as I entered the door. I opened my blouse some further, just as a challenge – I had never been embarrassed from the attitudes of certain men and creating gross sex ideas in that lowlife gave me an insane exaltation.
“Give me a beer. A dark one.” I said sitting on a high chair.
He gave me the beer, hooked at my décolleté, then someone called him and he went away cursing in a strange dialect.
I took a long draught of beer and I felt the alcohol flowing in my veins. I couldn’t mask my pleasure and I moaned slightly closing my eyes satisfied. “Hey Karl, give me the same drink of this young lady…she seems to get a great benefit from it!”. I threw a sulking glance to the newcomer and I resumed with my beer.
“Hey, do you know where you are, babe? This is the meeting place for all the scum of the city. The ones coming here always have something to hide or something to forget…and Karl takes care of them…isn’t it true Karl?”
The barman laughed out loud and he gave a comment about how he would have liked to take care of me. I simply ignored him.“So?” I replied hissing. The man laughed amused. “You are a little fury! Good. I like untamed women..”
I kept looking at him trying not to show any interest, but his green eyes hit me – even now that he was joking there was a shadow of melancholy in his glance and, at moments, something malignant, a cruel light a desire of violence.
He was tall and lean and his features were delicate almost feminine. His hair was pitch-black, all shaved except for a very long lock on the forehead, covering his left eye. Probably his hair had been very long and he had let it cut without conviction.
I didn’t realise I was staring and when he sensually bit his lips I turned away replying sharply “I am here to have a couple of beers and to stay quiet…so, if you don’t mind…” I said trying to get rid of him.
“I know why you are here” he said getting serious. That weird light in his eyes appeared again and I felt uncomfortable, but the curiosity won on the fright and I replied cocky “Really? You are the know-it-all kind! I see, actually I got it from the very beginning…” I took a draught of beer that made me squeeze my eyes.
“Boris! Cutter waits for you on the back yard…” his name was Boris. I didn’t get any particular feeling from it. As he heard Karl shouting, Boris raised his hand without turning to show he heard him. He stood up from the stool where he was sitting, he drank his beer in one shot and with a sudden move he got close to me, his mouth slightly open smelled of beer “you want to make love with the devil…” he pressed his lips together and caressed them with his tongue.
He turned away and disappeared out of the back door. My mouth and my eyes were wide open and I tried to pull through. I drank the rest of my beer and I hit the glass on the table to call the barman “another one…please” the man gave me another beer –“Who is that guy?” I asked trying to pretend that the curiosity was stimulated from irritation more than interest.
“Who that? Boris?” the barman laughed out loud “He is the devil, Miss…The devil” I didn’t answer.
To the second beer there followed still a few. I was loaded more than enough, but I hoped to be able to drive home, otherwise I would have had to sleep in my car. I stood up and I remained still for a couple of seconds to test my deambulating ability. I threw a greenback on the table and I went out without waiting for the change.
Outside the air was hot and humid, I put off my leather jacket and I opened my blouse completely. I was sweating, possibly the beer had something to do with that.
I tried to concentrate and remember where I had parked my car, as I saw it. I headed for it waddling.
The parking was dark and when I reached the car I had some problems to find the keyhole, once I succeeded, I tried to turn the key to open the door just to find out that I didn’t close it.
I threw the door open and I chucked myself on the seat, my legs spread, savouring my own ecstasy.
“You are so sexy, all sweaty and loose…” I sprang on the seat shouting.
Boris was lying on the back seat with a cynical smile on his face, biting his lips as I had seen him doing before.
“Then I didn’t leave it open? You forced it?” “It’s a child’s play; these cars go open like tin cans. But you…you should be more careful when you go around in a dark parking at night.” He laughed and I got flustered. He moved on the front seat and he put his hand between my legs. I got excited and my breath began to quicken. “Drive!” he ordered.
I started the car and I followed his instructions carefully.
TO BE CONTINUED…
====================
NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: The first line of my never finished book. Still working...still working.
I was looking for eternal love, the idyll that never changes, a passion burning without consuming, like the sacred bush of my ancestors. I was looking for a man, a woman or a demon, that didn’t make any difference for me – I just wanted someone to share my heart, my soul, my bed and my monsters with. I was searching without success.
It’s looking for damnation that I went beyond the door. When I met the devil, I passed from a live without life, to a death without death.
It was at night. My car had driven me to a miserable pub of the suburbs. The barman made a lascivious grin as I entered the door. I opened my blouse some further, just as a challenge – I had never been embarrassed from the attitudes of certain men and creating gross sex ideas in that lowlife gave me an insane exaltation.
“Give me a beer. A dark one.” I said sitting on a high chair.
He gave me the beer, hooked at my décolleté, then someone called him and he went away cursing in a strange dialect.
I took a long draught of beer and I felt the alcohol flowing in my veins. I couldn’t mask my pleasure and I moaned slightly closing my eyes satisfied. “Hey Karl, give me the same drink of this young lady…she seems to get a great benefit from it!”. I threw a sulking glance to the newcomer and I resumed with my beer.
“Hey, do you know where you are, babe? This is the meeting place for all the scum of the city. The ones coming here always have something to hide or something to forget…and Karl takes care of them…isn’t it true Karl?”
The barman laughed out loud and he gave a comment about how he would have liked to take care of me. I simply ignored him.“So?” I replied hissing. The man laughed amused. “You are a little fury! Good. I like untamed women..”
I kept looking at him trying not to show any interest, but his green eyes hit me – even now that he was joking there was a shadow of melancholy in his glance and, at moments, something malignant, a cruel light a desire of violence.
He was tall and lean and his features were delicate almost feminine. His hair was pitch-black, all shaved except for a very long lock on the forehead, covering his left eye. Probably his hair had been very long and he had let it cut without conviction.
I didn’t realise I was staring and when he sensually bit his lips I turned away replying sharply “I am here to have a couple of beers and to stay quiet…so, if you don’t mind…” I said trying to get rid of him.
“I know why you are here” he said getting serious. That weird light in his eyes appeared again and I felt uncomfortable, but the curiosity won on the fright and I replied cocky “Really? You are the know-it-all kind! I see, actually I got it from the very beginning…” I took a draught of beer that made me squeeze my eyes.
“Boris! Cutter waits for you on the back yard…” his name was Boris. I didn’t get any particular feeling from it. As he heard Karl shouting, Boris raised his hand without turning to show he heard him. He stood up from the stool where he was sitting, he drank his beer in one shot and with a sudden move he got close to me, his mouth slightly open smelled of beer “you want to make love with the devil…” he pressed his lips together and caressed them with his tongue.
He turned away and disappeared out of the back door. My mouth and my eyes were wide open and I tried to pull through. I drank the rest of my beer and I hit the glass on the table to call the barman “another one…please” the man gave me another beer –“Who is that guy?” I asked trying to pretend that the curiosity was stimulated from irritation more than interest.
“Who that? Boris?” the barman laughed out loud “He is the devil, Miss…The devil” I didn’t answer.
To the second beer there followed still a few. I was loaded more than enough, but I hoped to be able to drive home, otherwise I would have had to sleep in my car. I stood up and I remained still for a couple of seconds to test my deambulating ability. I threw a greenback on the table and I went out without waiting for the change.
Outside the air was hot and humid, I put off my leather jacket and I opened my blouse completely. I was sweating, possibly the beer had something to do with that.
I tried to concentrate and remember where I had parked my car, as I saw it. I headed for it waddling.
The parking was dark and when I reached the car I had some problems to find the keyhole, once I succeeded, I tried to turn the key to open the door just to find out that I didn’t close it.
I threw the door open and I chucked myself on the seat, my legs spread, savouring my own ecstasy.
“You are so sexy, all sweaty and loose…” I sprang on the seat shouting.
Boris was lying on the back seat with a cynical smile on his face, biting his lips as I had seen him doing before.
“Then I didn’t leave it open? You forced it?” “It’s a child’s play; these cars go open like tin cans. But you…you should be more careful when you go around in a dark parking at night.” He laughed and I got flustered. He moved on the front seat and he put his hand between my legs. I got excited and my breath began to quicken. “Drive!” he ordered.
I started the car and I followed his instructions carefully.
TO BE CONTINUED…
====================
NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: The first line of my never finished book. Still working...still working.