by: B. Kodak
"She's made me lose my sense of 'home'. I don't feel centered anymore. But I love being off-centered. Completely surrendered. Janet Jackson, Nasty Girl no wait--Brittney Spears, Slave (for you)....but like: transgendered!" I pause. I can hear myself. I salivate and swallow as I glance around the room. I wonder if these tweekers realize that I'm already high. I fight the urge to sniff. Sniffing at an NA meeting is almost a dead giveaway. Narcotics anonymous ...aka the legalized trap-house is a breeding ground for continued drug use.
I don't usually share anything actually relevant. I can't believe these fucktards had me actually share my personal life.
"Mya? Aamya..." The shrill sound of her voice rips me from my second rate observation of the room. I know I've gone too deep. Spoken too much. There's no way out of this story:
"I was saying my house, it doesn't feel like my home..." I took a deep breath. How do you explain to mortals that you've encountered a genie? Houdini herself.
Queen of the fucktards says, "Mya, this is a safe zone. Please continue. Why doesn't your house feel like home. Are you saying she somehow stole your house?!"
Fucking dummy. This is why this NA shit is pointless. These bitches are dumb. I half want to tell them: I am so not high enough for this shit. But this asshole has to sign my papers. She's the only one who can help me STOP attending this stupid shit. I realize, whether I tell my truth or not... I've gotta say something that sounds half decent.
I continue: "She didn't 'steal' my house. She stole my 'sense' of 'home'. The deeper I fall into her, the more I fall out of myself. So when I'm not with her, I don't recognize myself."
I close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together, my hips slide down and sightly to the left... I use my foot to stabilize myself in the chair. My body curves into an 's' as I slide up and to the right. I can hear her voice, like a liquid honey drug: it drips down my spine and into my blood stream. All that exists beneath my eyelids is her voice, the stage, and my chair-dependent yet ever-dancing body.
I listen to her purr as she rolls over. I remember how her eyes will open slightly before they would kiss her lids... allowing her to return to her dreams. I feel the familiar wondering of how far her dreams carry her away. I smell the citrus dancing through her pours as I watch her eyes dart beneath the lids. Even as I sit in rehab, I am lost in her.
Suddenly I feel like all the air is leaving the room. My nipples swell. I can feel my vagina pulse. Beneath my eyelids, I see her repositioning. My ears can hear the purring noise again. I can feel her clit against my ass. I remember how only hours before she allowed it to slide between my butt cheeks (as the warmth of her juices trickled downwards). I can smell our sweetness mixing together. She and her hypnotic vaginal powers dominate me. My pulse rises as I relive the feelings of her arms around me. I want her. Her smell becomes a taste that I crave. I choke. Then as I cough, desperate to clear my throat...
Q.o.f. interrupts my thoughts (that albeit are racing between a daydream, a fantasy, and a wet dream) by saying, "Mya... Dear, that doesn't sound healthy. It sounds like another kind of addiction."
I roll my eyes. (When the hell is this shit over?) I check my watch. (This bitch is dumb. 3 minutes. She can kiss my ass. Addict this bitch. How about I use the last 2 minutes to finish snorting my damn coke --in YOUR bathroom?) I smile. Walk gracefully to the bathroom.
As I walk, I remember her way of apologizing as she got dressed to leave (less than five minutes after she came-- so loudly that I was sure she wouldn't have the energy to stand) the night before, "I don't know what is happening but in all of my 30 years, I've never been touched like that." She kisses me on the forehead. I can see the layers of her words twist, unfold and stack themselves like prison bars --keeping her from me. She turns on her heel and leaves. I wonder at her ability to walk away. I was sure that the vaginal domination that just occurred would leave her trapped in my world, desiring to stay forever…allowing me to become her personal drug.
In the bathroom stall, I release the pendant from my neck. I prepare to see the white crystals dance upon my finger. My cell phone chimes. I read the text message with my right hand as I dig a straw from my purse with my left hand.
"Will call you in 2 minutes," I can hear her voice in my head as I read the words.
Finally, I sniff.
My cell phone rings. I sniff twice more before lowering my head to read the screen. She has called.
"Hello?" I can hear noise in the background. I feel her disconnection. Italy. So far. But it is the first time I have breathed all-day so I am happy to hear from her.
She says, "My show was amazing! Babe, these Italians love me! I wish you were here! We're about to grab something to eat now...I figured I'd call while I had a quick second."
I mute the phone. I sniff. I cough. I unmute the phone. "That's awesome, beautiful. I'm happy for you. I miss you." More noise. I hear her cheering excitedly.
"Babe, what'd you say?" She's back. I don't even remember what I've said. I try not to steal her high, "Girrrrlllluh! I said, DO IT!!! Go enjoy your night so tomorrow comes quicker and I can see you."
She says, "I never want tomorrow to come."