Page 82 of Bourbon Truths
Exerting my muscles, I lifted my body off my mattress and slowly walked to my bathroom where I turned the water to the hottest setting. I stumbled to the shitter where I pissed a liter worth of whiskey while steam from the shower started to billow from the top.
Flushing the toilet, I carefully walked over to the shower where I stepped in and allowed the searing hot water to run over me. The water was so hot, it almost felt cold. With my face in the water, I pressed my hands against the tile and let the water run over my aching body.
Vinny had been surprised to get a call from me last night, but with a little coaxing, he’d met me in the alley and taken care of business. There had been a concerned look on his face, but I knew he wouldn’t ask questions. He was just there to do a job. He’d left me bruised and battered, making sure to stay below the neck since I had to teach a class that morning.
I never doubled up in a year, ever, but after seeing Madeline and Linda yesterday, I’d needed the pain. I’d needed a release, and Vinny was able to deliver.
Water continued to run down my back, reminding me that in fact, I was still alive, a privilege I shouldn’t be granted but that also shouldn’t be wasted. I gathered up my soap and washed and thought about yesterday.
It’d been one of my most fucked up days to date. Not only had Linda and Madeline tilted my entire fucking world, but Lyla had shown up, letting me know she would never truly let go.
How the hell was I supposed to push away from a woman who wouldn’t let me? She was making this entirely too difficult, but it wasn’t like I fucking helped any. No, I went and told her she was practically my fucking crutch.
Christ.
What possessed me in that moment to say that to her was beyond me. Maybe it was because all I could think about was how beautiful she was, how her skin looked so soft under the gym lights and how her lips were calling out to me, to fucking make her mine, brand her with my shameful dysfunction.
With the soap, I lathered up my hand and washed my stomach as visions of Lyla kept passing through my mind.
I thought about her face, her breasts, her body.
My hand found my growing erection and without remorse, I stroked myself to the image of Lyla writhing underneath me, an image that had been branded in my brain.
I heard her little cries of pleasure, felt her grabbing hold of my ass, urging me deeper inside her. I growled and pumped my rigid cock. I just needed to think about her, and I was fucking hard.
Her laugh echoed through my head as my sore arm exerted itself by pumping my cock. I shouldn’t be thinking of her this way. I was only torturing myself, allowing myself to picture her in my mind constantly, but her beautiful face granted me little reprieve in this fucked up life of mine. She made me forget for a single moment in time.
I clung to the moment, riding it until I developed a new one. It was the one thing that made me not let Vinny push me over the edge, to finally take my life.
A groan escaped me as my stomach coiled, my balls tightened, my breathing hitched, and I came. With a couple more strokes, my orgasm eclipsed me, relieving me of the pressure that built up in my core. A short amount of relief fell over me but was quickly washed away when the slightly euphoric state I experienced ended.
In disgust, I placed my head on the tile of my shower and thought about my life.
Could I really go back to the Haze Room?
It wasn’t like I had a choice. If I didn’t show up to work on time, Jett would be at my door faster than I could shove a bottle of whiskey to my mouth.
Even though my mind was elsewhere, I knew there was only one place I could go, and it was the last place I ever wanted to be.
It was time to go back to the Haze Room.
* * *
The community centerwas already crawling with people signing up for a free membership and going on tours with the girls, who were dressed in khaki shorts and polos. It was almost comical to see the Jett Girls walking around in such normal clothes rather than their presentation outfits that consisted of bras, thongs, and smaller-than-scarves costumes.
Goldie sat at the front desk, greeting me with a smile, but instead of engaging in conversation, I just nodded and headed to my room. She really was the perfect person to greet people, a fucking ray of sunshine. Even though I hated to admit it, her smile had eased the tension in my shoulders.
She got up and followed me. “Hey,” she called, grabbing onto my shoulder to gather my attention.
“Ahh, fuck,” I mumbled while trying to pull away. Maybe I had spoken too soon about her easing some tension. Her grip on my arm sent shards of pain screaming through my body, thanks to Vinny’s thorough work.
“Whoa,” Goldie said while backing up a step. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I replied, holding on to my cup of coffee a little tighter while the burn in my arm started to settle.
“Don’t lie to me,” Goldie said with her hands on her hips.
“Mind your own business,” I shot back, not wanting to get into it with her.
