candy crush
vinny bombora
The clock radio comes on and I curse the turning of the day. Miley’s on the radio. She’s “dancing with Molly.” That’s what’s gotten me into this tragic mindset, Molly, on this terribly teary Tuesday.
I turn my head and there she is… Hello Kitty. She’s still standing there with a myriad of fireworks blasting behind her. It’s what I saw just before I left on Saturday night; Kitty on the wall.
I realised at the time that the fireworks were actually what’s inside her head; she’s indulging on ecstasy and that’s what I was looking to get that night.
Still though on this suicidal, come down morn one can’t necessarily perceive the joy she’s experiencing. That’s what Hello Kitty’s like; always with that vacant, nonchalant gaze.
Nothing to it though, just wait for the depression to subside and try not to dwell on my Candy crush.
It’s packed with the usual freaks which is just the way I like it; gives one the chance to blend in. Sitting on a stool to the side, scoping the crowd for someone holding. You get a second sense as to who. Could be the way they’re ducking in and out of the toilets or the way they’re chatting with someone, just the look on their face. This time it’s her labret piercing, wouldn’t have been on anyone else, but it is on her as she passes by.
She’s definitely holding and oh my does she look a treat as well; those tight little leather shorts.
She makes her way onto the dance floor and then of a sudden I’m next to her.
Casually into her ear, eyes looking in the other direction as if I’m not, “Got anything?”
She looks up at me as my eyes gaze back in her direction, “What are you after?”
It’s just second nature and it’s a nature that’s a decade worn on but I just check for old times’ sake and as she’s shaking her head and is about to move on, because she doesn’t have any speed, I respond a second time with, “Pills? You got any pills?”
She nods as she casts her look in the opposite direction and moves off over toward the cigarette machine. I spend a few moments trying to move my bricks of feet about as if they glide across the floor like that Russian ballerina’s whose life was cut short.
Her name’s Cinnamon and evidently her pills are the bomb which sounds quite delightful. As we make the exchange I catch myself glaring down at the point where her fly would be completely undone. It’s instinctual and I have to correct my eyes each time.
There they are two little red circles in my palm. There’s some sort of imprint on them but who takes note of those these days. I neck one with my beer.
It comes on in waves like the old days. Shivers, eyes rolling back in my head, jaw rocking from side to side… man, it’s been so long.
We’re all moving together on the dance floor. I’ve got no appreciation of my personal self or at least as much as I can ever throw off.
A part in the crowd; the lighting system all works in conjunction with the moment and there she is. At the other side of the floor… she’s different, even in here. She’s swaying and she’s looking.
Skin like alabaster with dark cavernous eyes; lips caked in rouge. Spiky black hair cuts down over her shoulders with a flat chest below. The corners of her mouth curl in a moment of recognition.
Then the crowd falls back in on itself and she’s gone.
I don’t miss a beat and make my way through. Dug in and out between shoulders and make my way to where she is and yet she’s not. The loss hits me hard with that ability to fall much further from the height that I’d been soaring. I make my way once more through the crowd and round the floor but can’t find her.
I park it back over on a stool and suck on another beer. A little dejected, a little hopeless… then I feel a pinch on my knee and look up to see her figure scoot past. She dives back into the crowd on the dance floor but then I see her veer out on the other side of the bar. She picks up a glass, places the straw between her lips and sucks. As she does so she’s looking in my direction. Then she places the glass back down and looks out into the crowd.
I pull myself up off the stool, heavy with apprehension and follow her around.
She smiles as I move closer. I’m drawn to her and yet there’s a part that’s trying to turn on my feet and take off.
“Hey, how you doing?” I say in my most nonchalant voice.
“Oh, honey I’m doing just fine… real fine,” she smirks.
Her voice is deep and melts the inner lining of my heart. I feel a slight stirring in the fluid of my sack.
I muster up the strength to purse my lips, look down and contain my rapture.
“Oh my, aren’t you the one,” she says looking me up and down.
She curls her finger and beckons me to follow.
She moves back through the crowd and around to the other side of the bar. Every few moments she turns back to curl her finger and make sure that I’m following.
She leads me up to the door of the men’s, presses into it with her shoulder, smiles back at me and enters. I follow like a mutt with my tongue hanging out.
It’s fairly empty inside except for one guy at the trough. She steps into a cubicle and I behind her. The door closes and she presses her back into a corner beside the cistern.
Her flat chest is heaving, her lips smiling. She looks like bubble gum and I want to chew alright. Painted beauty spot on the right side of her upper lip, purple mascara framed by painted black brows and dark brown pupils.
This is that reoccurring wet dream from the past played out in real time.
She grabs at the front of my shirt and pulls me in. My lips down upon hers, tongues unite. I can feel warm ecstasy waves rolling up and back along my body and it’s all so very from here to eternity.
I pull off for a moment, “Baby what’s your name.”
“I’m Candy, sweet thing,” and she drags me back in.
She lifts up a leg and rests her foot on the seat.
I thrust my hand down towards her thigh and slide up towards her crotch and there it is like an oasis at the end of a long journey, her cock.
It’s not really a surprise and at that moment mine turns hard. As I fumble hers she reaches for mine.
It’s all overwhelming and I pull off for a moment, swooning in mid- throe, breathing heavy, eyes shuddering and she’s still got a tight grip. I move back a little and she moves forward pushing me into the opposing wall. My eyes droop and I await for her to press back into me.
There’s a sound, I open my eyes, the door’s ajar and she’s gone.
I stumble out of the cubicle, hot and cold. She’s nowhere to be seen. I race out into the bar, onto the dance floor, pushing people out of my way. I can’t find her anywhere.
I walk over to the bar and order a vodka. Just a brief pit stop as this mission is far from over.
I turn my head in the direction of the exit and I see her talking to some guy. I’m sure it’s her, even though her backs to me. Oh my, just look at that arse.
I make my way over as she’s moving closer to the exit. I place my hand on her shoulder as she’s about to push the door.
She turns back.
“Candy,” I smile in desperation.
She turns up her palm and says, “Laterz.”
She steps out the door and it swings shut in my face.
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