I was feeling the itch. My body and mind compelling me to get high, escape into the euphoric state of dopamine coursing through my blood. I wanted it, and I was going to get it…but I didn’t need to reach for a pipe, or a needle to get where I wanted to go. No rolled up dollar bills, no lines of powder cut up on my coffee table. No, my poison came in another form: Alcohol and sex. There was nothing better than a good drunk and a naked body pressed firmly against mine. I looked out the window to see the sun going down in the horizon. It was time to go.
The streets were crowded with throngs of thirsty patrons, the life-blood of downtown, flowing in and out of the bars with every pulse; keeping the nightlife alive and well in the heart of this quaint little town. I made my rounds through my usual low-key watering holes, working up a buzz and chatting with the bar-staff and bar flies I call my friends.
Pints of dark beer and shots of whisky accentuate the playful, sometimes flirtatious banter between the other patrons and myself. We laugh and joke, talk about work, our failed relationships, sexual conquests, personal philosophy and anecdotal moments in our mundane lives; the usual. We raise our glasses often, cheering and toasting in honor of our lifestyle of fuzzy memories and well-meant debauchery.
I step outside for a cigarette, when I’m approached by a girl I barely know; for the better part of 5 years. She asks me how I’ve been, what I’ve been up to and if I’m seeing anyone. She offers to buy me a drink and I accept. I take a drag off my cigarette, “She’ll do” I think to myself as I flick the butt into the gutter and head back inside.
We sit at the bar and flirt, shamelessly touching each other, spouting sexually enticing nonsense as the alcohol gradually blurs the line between stranger and lover. The sexual tension is as delicious as the whiskey on the rocks I’m sipping as we talk. Her voice as enticing as the sound of the ice cubes rattling in the glass, her smile seductive. Her soft, coy eyes glimmer in the glow of neon light as she tells me she isn’t looking for anything serious.
“Yeah, me neither.” I say casually, as I down the last swig of the my drink.
We’re going through the motions; we both know what’s going to happen next. She suggests we go smoke weed. I agree, and we stagger to my car. Our finger-tips softly graze one another’s, as we pass the pipe back and forth, our minds swimming with all the dirty possibilities of this evening’s encounter. She tells me she needs a ‘fuck-buddy’. I kiss her and tell her we’re leaving.
She goes down on me as I drunkenly drive to my place, and she does so with enthusiasm and effort. It feels amazing. We laugh and giggle as we arrive and make our way into my room, holding hands like old lovers. It’s not each other we’re after, a fact that becomes as clear as one-hundred proof vodka, as we fornicate with all the grace and intensity of two wild animals.
The sex is hot. Dirty. Pornographic. Violent. She asks to be choked and slapped. I tie her hands together with an old belt. She wants to be used… and so do I.
Lost in a fog of pleasure, I feel nothing beyond the sensation of my pounding hearth and her warm skin pressed against mine. We become completely in-tune with each other’s bodies, finding just the right rhythm and we share a knowing smile as our eyes meet and recognize the pleasure on each other’s faces. It’s building up strong, as our moans and grunts grow louder and louder. The rush overwhelms us both as we climax together; it feels incredible. We collapse down into the bed, reaching for each other’s embrace. In this moment, laying in each other’s arms and breathing heavy, we see ourselves in each other. We wanted to get our fix, but we needed someone to help. Tonight, sex is our drug. Tomorrow, solitude and loneliness will be our sobriety.
I drive her back to her car and we exchange numbers. We say a bitter-sweet goodbye, I kiss her on the cheek and then drive away.
Her scent lingers in my bed, as I lie there recounting the night’s events. It’s dawn now. I take a sip from a can of beer she left on my nightstand and close the curtains. Surrounded by darkness, I think to myself “I kind of like her…”