Dark Side of the Moon
All that is now
All that is gone
All that’s to come
and everything under the sun is in tune
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon.Pink Floyd
Living in Manhattan gives one a distorted sense of space and time. Thirty-Fourth Street, yeah, that’s a short jaunt to the next town. Midtown is just one state over, a half-a-tank of gas maybe. But the Upper East Side, no, that may as well be the great Alaskan tundra. Five minutes feel like an eternity yet you awake one morning to find two years have passed. And so I was like understandably grumpy about having to undertake the arduous fifteen minute cab ride uptown to meet Jack and Jill, the nice couple we had met before the underwear party. Their well-appointed apartment was comfortable, however, and our hosts were charming as always.
Two other couples were lounging about, along with two unescorted females. I stood there speaking with Jack about my golf trip and across the room I spied this pale, willowy young creature ensconced in a plush chair. Unruly hair dyed a deep shade of auburn tickled her slight shoulders. I had to draw her to me somehow. The night wore on, an hour or so that felt like six. Leslie and I sat on a foot-rest making small talk as I nursed my beer. Eventually I settled on the chair by the window to have a smoke, the very chair that had cushioned the sweet girl’s ass earlier. The conversation took a turn for the literary. The girl, walking in from the kitchen, mentioned something about having met Zadie Smith. “I just finished White Teeth,” I blurted out, hoping to get her attention, which, of course, I did. I told her I loved the story but thought Smith overdid it on the metaphors. We both agreed, later on, that we’d love to fuck the young author.
Soon enough, Harker, the young thing, was perched upon the armrest talking to me in excited tones and running her hand along my back. She writes. I told her I dig chicks who write. She smiled. We talked about my little project and the lack of intellectually engaging erotic writing on the web. The booze ran out, though, and our hosts decided it was about time we headed out to the Flirt party at Remote Lounge. As we made our preparations to leave, Leslie and Harker flashed their perky breasts in tandem, much to the delight of the assembled guests.
The Remote Lounge gimmick is quite effective. Scattered about the place are some sixty swivel-mounted cameras connected to numerous monitors. A patron at one end of the bar can access a camera at the other end of the bar and use the convenient joystick to point the lens down some tempting cleavage. Anyone else may tune into that same channel for the voyeuristic thrill. If he so chooses, our hormone-addled patron can even pick up a receiver and attempt to chat up the object of his lust. Unable to resist the temptation to produce my very own Girls Gone Wild video, I furiously stabbed at the buttons until I was able to pan one of the cameras over toward our group. I barked orders at the girls. “Stand over there. No, turn around. Flash. Yeah, that’s right. Show some tits!” Perhaps I have a future in pornography. At times it resembled a tug of war, with some unseen competitor trying to take control of my cam. It wasn’t long before Harker and Leslie, with breasts exposed and flimsy pasties over their nipples, kissed, licked, sucked and groped for the camera. They were soon joined by another girl. The massive bank of mission-control monitors above the bar all switched almost simultaneously to this one scene as people elsewhere tuned in. I was torn between watching my amateur production and taking in the actual scene behind me. Perhaps it didn’t matter. When you are on the air, McLuhan said, you have no body.
Although I had vowed never again to return, it appears the Flirt party has made a remarkable comeback. Ghosts of fuck parties past were arrayed around us: the honorable Gina and Jacques, who told me they left the SOHO Grand after party early because some guy started to go down on Gina without her permission; the distinguished Jim and Kathy, one of the few couples who had come dressed for the oddly lacking beach party theme; the indomitable Linda and husband, who chatted with me for a short while and disappeared into the ether; the uncanny yet unsure-of-their-footing Margaret and John, Margaret being the sweet girl who smoothed over my problems with the door-girl at the last ill-fated SKIN party. Margaret, a young busty blonde, leaned into me as I sat on the barstool with my legs open, the naked flesh of her creamy bosom just inches below my nose. “Of all the couples we’ve met, you guys are the ones we feel most comfortable around,” she said. “I feel like you’re the kind of guy who’s not going to forget about me after you fuck me.”
Never in my wildest imaginings would I have guessed that this lounge was, in fact, the dark side of the moon. I found myself with the lovely Harker, rambling on in my usual manner about my wild ride on Nerve.com a couple of years back and talking about how incestuous it all was. You see, I had a good-natured rivalry going with this half-Asian guy Wang, who was apparently quite well-endowed. We had bedded a disturbingly high percentage of each other’s girls.
Upon hearing the name, Harker’s eyes grew wide. “I think that’s the guy I dated for six months,” she said quietly.
“Half-Asian?” I asked. “Big dick?” She nodded. I did a mock Seinfeld grimace and muttered under my breath, “Newman!”
“Wait, what was your profile?” she blurted out.
“Moroccan Cowboy,” I replied, dimly aware that something strange was about to happen.
She stepped back a bit and scanned my frame. “You’re six-foot-five, right?”
Now my eyes were growing wide with apprehension. I nodded in reply.
“I think we went on a date,” she said soberly. She had this habit of going slightly cross-eyed when looking at someone intently.
The gears started turning. Of course! She had dyed her hair and let it grow a bit, but now I recognized the face, the body, the cross-eyed-ness. It was undeniable. “We met at that bar, what is it called—2A!” I shouted excitedly. “You were the chain-smoking girl. We ended up making out later on in the back room at Drinkland.”
Harker had this look of horror on her face. “Cmere!” she hissed, and pulled me into a dark corner. “Yeah, I was smoking so much because I was terribly nervous.” She buried her face in her hands and then looked up at me again morosely. “I must apologize to you. Of the twenty guys I met through Nerve, you were the most interesting. I wanted to call you back. I wanted to go out with you again, but I had just started seeing Wang.”
“Wang was a dick,” I said, smiling. “He used the exact same lines on all the girls. He was a sleaze-bag.”
“I know,” she said, looking genuinely upset. “I’m so sorry.”
I told her not to worry about it, but my head was spinning. It had been two-and-a-half years since that fateful date, or was it yesterday? She talked about how Wang had gotten her into the swing scene. How they had propositioned girls on Nerve for threesomes. To add yet another twist, I knew Wang had tried to entice Leslie into one of those threesomes. By now, Harker’s boyfriend had come over, concerned that something was amiss. They talked quietly in the corner while I stood at the bar and ordered a stiff drink. I went to the bathroom, where some beefy numbskull tried to convince me to let him stand in there while I pissed, and when I came out it was as if several hours had passed. Everyone, it seemed, had left, except for Harker and her boyfriend, who Leslie informed me were outside smoking.
With everyone else gone, we cabbed it many light-years over to Cafeteria for a late-night breakfast. I sat across from Harker and made eyes at her. Feeling lecherous and aroused, I reached under the table to grab her right foot and place it on my knee, discretely massaging her as we waited for the food. To the boyfriend it might have looked as if I was touching Leslie. I pushed against Harker’s heel a few times, making her shift in her chair as if I were fucking her. I looked at her and licked my lips, a gesture she returned. If I could have managed to maneuver her foot into my crotch I would have, but alas the table was just a few miles too wide. On our way back to our place we walked down the street together with our arms around each others waists as Leslie and Harker’s beau walked a few paces ahead of us. “We really should have fucked,” I told Harker. “Yeah I know,” she replied. “But now we can make up for that.” “You know, Leslie is out of commission,” I confided. “I am too,” she sighed. Upon realizing my fly was open, she slipped a delicate hand in and felt the package, which stiffened against her palm.
Back at the apartment we all stood around awkwardly and played with the cats. Leslie didn’t feel like fooling around with the boyfriend, and with both girls on their periods it was difficult to figure out just what to do. Fortunately Leslie always seems to know how to get started. I was a little hesitant and she was a little rough with me when I made a half-assed attempt to get away from her. She forcefully pulled down my pants and hungrily took my twitching member into her mouth as we stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Soon Harker and her boyfriend were watching us and making little sounds of appreciation. Harker bent down to get a closer look and then, taking over from Leslie, wrapped her small mouth around the head of my cock. She had excellent technique, sucking softly and twisting her head slightly as she moved down my shaft. I liked the way my cock appeared to stretch her mouth wide. After passing myself from mouth to mouth for a little while, I let them both tongue me at the same time. I almost couldn’t believe what had happened that night. What was happening. Harker sighed as if for dramatic effect and slid to the floor. Leslie kissed her deeply.
We moved to the kitchen, where I leaned against the counter as the two girls dropped to their knees before me, once again passing my cock back and forth. I was so erect it felt as if my penis were about to detach itself from my groin and arc across the room like an ICBM. The boyfriend came over to grab a spot against the counter and Harker went to work on him. Leslie tortured me with her pouty lips as I watched Harker work. The auburn-haired beauty murmured all kinds of nice things to her boyfriend as she fluffed him. It was sweet, actually. After a minute I was unable to concentrate on anything but Leslie’s rhythmic sucking, and the growing feeling that I was about to come. It was too much, and I popped out of Leslie’s mouth just as the orgasm washed over me. The first bit of goo seemed to do a pole vault over Leslie’s head, landing somewhere on the floor behind her. The rest splattered her face and ran down her chin in little pina colada streams.
Soon we parted company in the pale dawn. Fifteen minutes had passed, or had it been hours, or years? And so it went, my second date with Harker.
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