X

“Too High” by Lil Dicky was booming over the radio. It was already too loud for comfort at the start of the night but by now—5 shots of Patron, 3 Jack & Cokes, a bump and two spliffs later—at about 12:43 AM, the sound was painfully pounding in Xander’s head. The lights were starting to swirl but not in a good way like off a disco ball the way it had been all evening, but drunkenly distorted.

He liked it this way. He moved through his own house with dazed alacrity. Greeting whoever corralled him into conversation. Cracking a joke! For sure there are jokes to be made. He had enough quips locked and loaded about his own name. (Pronounced Zander but his friends called him X.)

And yes, I said his own house, but really his parents bought him this 3 bed, 2 bath townhouse. The amount his parents’ charged his roommates covered the mortgage, plus enough for him to live on.

From the outside, he was a typical frat boy. His parents had money, or at least they were smart with the extra they had, putting a certain amount into investments that allowed them to live comfortably. He was classically handsome with dark chestnut brown hair, a chiseled jawline, pouty lips and thick effeminate eyelashes shielding eyes that were a mystifying blue-hazel. He was tall and his body reflected his daily gym efforts. This is what everyone saw, what many chose to see, but that’s not who he was. Or not ALL he was at least.

D & D was the sport he chose in high school. He loved manga more than anime. He solved the Rubik’s Cube he kept in his backpack in between classes and while sipping a pint alone in old, unpopular bars.  He was socially awkward more often than not, but he could turn it on like a switch.

Since his junior year of high school, he started restoring old computers, laptops and even phones for nearby women’s shelters. What made him a douchebag was when he occasionally used this info to woo chicks. But he knew it. He was a strategic asshole. As most men are.

He knew what he was. He was a mask. He was something different than what everyone else saw. Like Superman he hid in plain sight. He leaned into this persona of effortlessly handsome, exceedingly confident, an irresistibly charming ladies’ man, because he knew the real him was a buffoon. Very few people got to know the real him. This was intentional, a way of being true to himself while still playing the role everyone just assumed he was playing.

Because he was never fully able to be one without the other, he had dualling voices in his head all the time writing jokes, pondering, debating. Not real voices, obviously. Not the kind you have to be hospitalized and medicated to silence! Heavens no! These voices were just a means of his brain to work shit out.

He spent most of his nights in bars and clubs, trying to find his voice in stand-up comedy. He had no interest in his “chosen” major (accounting—like his dad before him), but he was excited to be headlining for a few big names in the coming weeks. He addressed the incongruousness of his look in his act. Making fun of this sometimes suffocating persona he had fashioned for himself was where he felt most at home anymore.

No one wanted to hear that he was lonely…or sad…or smart…or more complex than his quizzically blue eyes. He worked this angle with oh so many girls. Unfortunately for him, the wrong kind. The cheap pretty kind. Fun for a little while but not built to last.

He kept ambling his high drunken ass through the crowd of primarily strangers in his home. He took an abandoned bottle of Modelo from the foyer table and drained it on his way out the door for good measure. He put it neatly beside his front door to pick up later. He held the door open for a group of more people with more booze to try to fit into his crowded house.

“X!!” They yelled jovially.

“Heeyyyy,” his locked and loaded greeting for all the people who recognized him that he didn’t know who the fuck they were.

The throb of a Childish Gambino song was still audible and palpable across the street. They would probably call the cops but who knows. This was a half-filled-out new development community. Most of the houses were still vacant.

He saw someone in the distance on one of the swings on the otherwise deserted playground. No families had moved in yet. He never saw any kids playing. It made him curious.

A solitary street lamp outlined the figure. He kept walking towards this human mass as if drawn by an indescribable force.

It was a girl—sorry a woman—because she was so much more poised and held herself with such an air of sophistication. She was delicately thin. She had a dense mane of blue hair with dark roots that was shaved on the right side and swept over to the left. She wore a simple black dress with an oversized black denim jacket with different Oni (Japanese tribal masks) on the sleeve.

There was a light chill in the air, enough to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Or probably any underwear, he thought. She was one of those sleek, cat-like alternative chicks that were usually not cute enough to endure whatever rant about women’s rights for a chance that she might be crazy wild in the sack. He saw himself as an ally. Why did he feel like he was always being attacked? It’s not like he chose to be born a male…or white.

His loins told him there was something different about this one. She made A-cups look sexy. She was no pseudo-intellectual. She was the real deal and she exuded her sexuality with an almost bored, languid confidence that said she genuinely did not give a fuck what anyone thought.

He liked that. A lot.

She had innumerable earrings dangling from her right ear, some long enough to graze her shoulder. She was hunched over on the swing, reading. When she looked up, her big doe eyes arrested him. For a second, those eyes stole his breath. He tried to regain composure.

“Hu—,” his words caught in his throat. He coughed to clear it. “Sorry,” he stumbled, “Is anyone sitting here?”

She looked around, a grin forming around the corners of her mouth. “Umm…no. You’re fine. You can sit.”

Her voice was thick, dense, deep—so much deeper than a typical woman’s. X found this wildly attractive. It was buttery…silken…just like her pale freckled flesh. Her jewelry, her hair, everything dripped, dangled and teased the eyes in the style of bohemian gothic.

He sat next to her and offered his hand, “Hi, I’m—”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look like the type to know who he was.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve seen you at the Laugh Attic. Quite a few times actually.”

Xander scrunched up his face.

“What?” she asked.

“I would have fucking noticed you,” he said dramatically.

She giggled. “Yeah um…the hair…it’s not usually this bright a cerulean—”

This bitch out here using words like cerulean AND she has seen my standup. Fuck, he thought. I am for sure out of my depths with this one.

“I died it fresh for the party.”

He looked around comically, “My party?”

“Haha yeah. I hope you don’t mind, I got invited by a…well whatever we are…”

“Uh oh, sounds like this is the type of convo that needs a drink!” He whipped out a flask and offered it to her first.

“No thank you, I’m driving.”

I’m not letting you get away. He had been working on his external vs. internal monologue. On account of how rapey that immediate thought sounded, he felt fortunate to have that one censored. He couldn’t help but think, I want to go wherever you go.

She seemed willing to talk, at least. She lightly folded the corner of her book, In Cold Blood, and stowed it in her backpack which featured Godzilla fighting Mothra. She didn’t seem like the kind to do anything she didn’t want to do just to save someone’s feelings.

He pulled out a joint, lit it, hit it and then offered this as well. This time she shrugged and took the peace offering. She held it in her lungs for an inconceivably long time before releasing.

“Squad Goals” by PROF came on next.

“Nice. ‘I got guns, hoes, money, dro, cars, boats, you should know!’” she quoted.  “I love this song.”

He looked at her, puzzled. It did not go unmissed.

“What? I don’t look like someone who’d know this song?”

“Sorry—”

“And coming from the comic who’s sick of being judged…? And for their fucking good looks no less…” She rolled her eyes, taking another big rip and then passing it back. Their exhalation of smoke mingled in the night air.

“Oh damn, you have seen me.”

“You’re surprised?”

“No…I just…I don’t invite any of my friends or anything. It’s kind of something I’m doing on my own and I kind of like to keep the two worlds sep— Never mind…I…oh God, please tell me you weren’t there…”

“About three weeks ago when you bombed extraordinarily? No. Whatever do you mean?” She said with a sly grin. She was sexy and she knew it. She was going to be a problem.

“Fuck. I was hoping to not see anybody who saw it—”

“I mean, you brought it up.”

“I mean…it was embarrassing in the moment. Lord, I was sweating so much! I felt like the biggest fucking loser but…I learned so much from it and it’s almost like I needed that experience. I mean I look at it like a badge of honor now, like an achievement because I needed to bomb to know that feeling and improve and all that…”

“Absolutely.”

He laughed a little nervously. Why was he nervous? “Sorry…thank you.”

“Ha! For what?”

“I mean for coming to the shows and stuff.”

“I wasn’t going to see you or anything.”

“I know.” Was he sweating? Jesus this bitch was terrifying. Don’t call her a bitch. No I meant it in the general sense. I know what you meant, stop being a cocksucker.

“You know you’re a lot less confident in person. And you seem a lot less like a douchebag.”

“I’m a fucking mess,” he conceded.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Ha! I guess I’m just not used to…real conversation, I guess, is what I was thinking.”

“No. I don’t imagine you would. You’re so pretty, I forgot what we were talking about.”

Was he actually blushing?

A long pause fell over them but not between them.

“You say ‘I mean’ and ‘like’ a lot.”

“Like in my act or right now?”

“Either, I guess. I didn’t really mean that as a critique, more of a incase-you-haven’t-noticed thing.”

“I hadn’t—”

“But it’s good you know? It could be like your catch phrase. I meeeeaaannn…”

He laughed. He hated comics with catch phrases. He thought they were hokey. But the way she said things, although intense, she also had this buoyant, animated way of talking that made her naturally funny. She had timing and candor.

“You have gotten better since then, by the way. I’ve seen you twice since then.”

“Thank you.” Pause. “So…”

“So…?” she mimicked, playfully.

“So…who are you here with?”

She let out a belabored sigh. “I came with my lover/boyfriend/ex-boyfriend thing and a few of our friends—” For a split second his heart sank. She’s still saying “our friends”. Easy man, chill.

“But…I guess he found someone more interesting tonight. Some chick with big tits. Honestly—”

“Big tits…ew.”

“Dick.”

“For what it’s worth, yours are very nice.”

She looked down, “It is what it is. They may not be a full handful but they could for sure cut glass.”

“Haha! Well…Fuck him!”

“I meeeeaaaannnn…” she teased with a glint in her eye. “Not anymore.”

This was going well, he thought. He noticed the body language of the two of them slowly but surely leaning closer into the other.

“You’re actually pretty easy to talk to,” she admitted, coyly.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“I’m Corinne,” she said, passing back the roach for a final time and offering her hand.

“Oh I’m sorry!” He shook her hand and it lingered there before sliding away. “My friends call me X, by the way.”

“Sometimes my friends call me Corey.”

“Nice.”

“So what are you doing out here?” she asked. A valid question.

“I…I’m not even sure. I think I came out here for some fresh air, I guess.”

“Hm. It takes a lot of energy to maintain a lie, huh?” But she didn’t say this as a roast, she said it with sincerity. Poignant. Knowing. He was exhausted and somehow she saw into him enough to see that.

This took the words from him. Maybe this Imposter Syndrome thing he felt all the time was more common than he knew. He was transfixed by her. He had never met someone quite like her. Her look, her mannerisms, how easy it was to talk to her. He wasn’t able to talk to anyone like this, not even his friends, for sure not his parents, and definitely never a girl…chick…sorry, woman. Everything in him was begging, screaming for more. He was already on the hook. He wanted to know more about her. Everything. He wanted to know her. Like really know her. Biblically. Shut up, you scumbag. But also yes. He had a desire for her that was carnal, indescribable.

They watched the party’s last death rattle from across the street before it slowly died out as they continued to talk. At one point, he felt like he was interrogating her, but then she wasn’t trying to leave. She answered his questions with an inviting coolness, often followed by an enigmatic grin. She had a sexual power and she wielded it without mercy. Her lips…her thick lips and, God, that cute little part in her front teeth. It was characteristic. It was sexy. She even has one of those piercings! Smiley. What? That’s what it’s called. Whatever, I’m with it. She laughed at his jokes. She got all his references, even the obscure ones…she was like his fucking dream girl! Like everything he had no clue that he even knew he wanted!

“What?”

It wasn’t until she asked this that he realized he was just watching her as if hypnotized.

“Sorry.”

“No, seriously, what?”

“You’re so unexpected…I’ve never felt so seen. I mean… (he rolled his eyes when she giggled at this) Maybe too seen… You’re a powerful witch.” Then, as if on cue, the street lamp went out. “See what I mean?!”

She laughed heartily at that. God, my new mission in life is to get you to laugh like that every time.

“I swear I had nothing to do with that!” She snorted.

“I meeean…” More laughs. “Are you sure?"

He wished he could see her face right now. I bet she’s laughing so hard now that she’s flushed. I bet she gets flushed when she cums too. His dick flinched at this thought and suddenly he felt like he had to know.

As her laughter died, she shuddered involuntarily. It was getting to be that witching hour when the world is at its coldest.

“Fuck. I wish I had something to give you—a sweater or something.”

“That’s sweet but I’m fine.”

“I could literally give you the shirt off my back…?” He went so far with the gesture as to begin unbuttoning.

“No! Really haha I’m good. Thank you, though.”

There was a small pause. Fuck it. Big Air. I’m going for it. “We could cuddle?”

“Uh…”

Maybe he didn’t have this as in-the-bag as he thought. “You know for warmth or whatever…?” He added.

It was the tiniest things about him like those slight flashes of insecurity that endeared X to Corey. He had no idea the urges that were writhing in her loins like a cluster of crazed eels. She stood in front of him and he rose to meet her.

Standing toe-to-toe, she was a head shorter than him.

Suddenly, he felt as though he could not be more awkward. “Is it okay if I uh—"

“Shut up, loser. Get in here.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup. He wouldn’t have to wash it off him or have to do laundry to try to get the sparkles out. He liked that a lot. Bonus points for being naturally pretty.

“What about the guy?” X asked, testing the waters of the situation.

“What guy?”

“The guy and all your friends…that was gonna—or that you were going to drive home?”

“Eh. They can figure it out.”

Her hands hung at his pants line. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders.

“God I feel like such a cliché.”

“What do you mean?” Because he could not see anything about her that was cliché, blasé, just okay or any other way.

“I meeeaann…” She joked. “How many times has this story played out? You probably have two, three chicks just naked in bed waiting for you right now.”

“Probably,” he said as a joke.

“Man…” She started to pull away so he drew her in closer.

He rested his chin lightly on top of her head, enveloping his arms around her. Her hair smelled like lavender and vanilla.

“I know what I look like but I’m not a playboy. I’ve only been with a handful of girls and they were girlfriends. Really, I’m not that guy. I feel like you already know that.”

Her small hands crept so stealthily beneath his shirt, he didn’t notice it while it was happening. He just felt two hands like icicles on his back.

She looked up at him, those arresting, big doe eyes. He rubbed her back. His hands fell at her hips. She was willing him to kiss her with her eyes. One hand came to her face as he pressed his lips against hers, the other one grabbed her right butt cheek. She wrapped a leg around his midsection. He lifted her leg up and hoisted her up like a doll. He held her ass with one hand, his free hand stroking her face.

She kissed him as if she wanted to devour him. She tasted sweet. When their lips parted again, he kissed her clavicle, he sucked at her neck. He felt the blood rush to his cock and press against his jeans.

“Mmmm—bite me,” she commanded softly, raking her hands through his hair. He bit her gently. “Mmm harder.”

He did as he was told and knew when he’d done it right when she gasped and moaned with pleasure.

“Wait! I have an idea,” she said mischievously.

He let her down. She ran over to the swing set again and threw it around the top several times, looking over at Xander to match his height. She crept up onto the swing and then motioned for him to come closer with one seductive finger.

Did she do what I think she just did?

“You don’t have anything do you?” she asked as he came nearer.

“What?”

“When was the last time you were tested?”

“Oh, two weeks ago,” which was the truth. “Clean. You?”

“Clean.”

He stood there, a little taken aback at how reckless and cautious she was at the same time. She found his zipper and slowly unzipped him, staring into his eyes. He looked around to see if anyone was around or watching. There was nothing. She pulled his underwear down, never breaking eye contact. She pulled her panties down, adjusting herself in the seat. So she was wearing panties.

She pulled up her skirt to reveal her well-manicured pussy. He didn’t know why but seeing that she wasn’t bald down there like so many of the girls he’d been with made him painfully hard.

He cupped her small breasts in his hands and felt her body. He put two fingers inside of her and felt how wet she was for him. He played her until she was moaning, begging to be entered.

When he took his fingers out, she intercepted them and stuck them in her mouth, sucking her juices off his fingers. This filled him with a greed for her. Ferocity took over. He bit her neck and shoulder like an animal as he entered her.

“Oh god!” she said, “Oh god!”

He used the swing to bring her down on his cock. He tried getting deeper with every swing. She breathed in through her teeth.

“Oh god that feels so good!”

“God, your pussy is so tight, baby. Fuck you feel amazing!”

She threw her head back in ecstasy. He pulled the top of her dress down to reveal her smallish tits and sucked on her nipples. His tongue played over the rings in each nipple.

She made soft noises of pleasure followed by sharp noises with each hard thrust. She was melting into his arms. She was cumming and gushing all over him. He felt her juices dripping on to his balls and down his leg.

“Oh yes! Fuuuuck! Oh goddam it yes!”

“I’m gonna cum!” Xander warned. She wrapped her legs around him, tight. Feeling this, he came hard deep inside her. She convulsed as she felt the giant vein on his cock ripple inside her.

“Oh shit.”

“It’s okay,” she said breathily, the side of her face pressed against his. “I’m on the pill.”

It still didn’t make him feel better but Jesus Christ she felt so good, and he wasn’t sure why her wrapping herself around him more as he was about to cum made him cum harder than he ever had before. She was electric.

He kissed her again. She picked her panties out of the mulch and shoved them in her jacket pocket. She adjusted her skirt as he pulled up his pants and underwear.

“Actually, I have to pee,” he said, realizing.

“Me too!”

She scampered into the grass and squatted. He aimed his stream at a pole. Marking his territory. She emerged from the darkness, and checked her phone.

“Oh shit. It’s almost 4:30…want to get breakfast?”

“Ha! Yeah, actually. Your place or mine?” he asked, flinging her Godzilla backpack over his shoulder.

“I meant at like a Denny’s or something.”

“Denny’s is shit! I’ll make you a real omelet.”

“A real one, huh?” she asked, walking backwards towards his place.

“Yeah,” he said, catching her hand and lacing his fingers in hers.

“Okay.” She smiled at the gesture.

Neither of them were sure what they were doing. He became more awkward and oddly chivalrous when he brought her back to his place. They split an omelet and drank the rest of the orange juice that was in the fridge. They went up to his room. She shut the door behind him. They fucked two more times and then slept till noon.

When she left for work, he asked for her number. He gave his. He asked her to come to his show on

Wednesday night. She said yes but then she didn’t respond to his texts.

In the green room before his show, he looked at all the faces in the crowd. He didn’t see her.

He got up on stage, less sure of himself than ever. But then, after he told his first joke…that laugh. He looked in the crowd, the light of the stage blinding him. There she stood, at the bar in the back of the venue. She raised her bottle to cheers him. All of a sudden, he felt like he was on top of the world.

She smiled in spite of herself. He smiled back.