Automagic Pilot

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | May 21, 2004

Wolf down a plate of mac-n-cheese. Finish your beer. Throw on those pants with the frayed edges and a few small holes in them. You bought them that way. Grab a shirt off the hanger—the one Nova calls your “dirty shirt.”

Beware of the woman who lies in wait behind a parked van. Too late: she’s sprung her trap and nabbed your cab. Another taxi comes along in a minute, cutting across three lanes and nearly sideswiping an ice cream truck. Your girlfriend shoos the lumbering beast off. Outta the way! Doo dee dum dee doo, the truck drones on.

Navigate the city grid to Jack-n-Jill’s, down past sleepy doorman buildings where money comes home to roost. Be prepared for that look Jack always gives you because you’re always late. The two girls are gussied up and appear not at all the way you remember them. Make an exaggerated formal gesture of kissing the German girl’s hand—something she’ll remember—and then chill on the couch. Laconic tonight, aren’t you? Nothing a few drinks won’t fix.

Natalia’s spent the past two hours preening and prepping. You call her and she’s still holed up at home, walking around topless and fretting over her assortment of dresses. Tell her you’ll meet her in 20 minutes. Your girlfriend rides with Jack-n-Jill and you, lucky you, get to escort the girls. It’s starting to rain now and the cab scoots down the Franklin D. Roosevelt like a hydrofoil.

Stake out a space downstairs by the bar, buy a drink and watch ‘em all roll in, first your girlfriend & company, then Ms. C (of the vicious circle) and her curious, rebounding friend, then Film Boy and Cherry Girl. A brunette in a red dress struts by and runs a soothing hand down the small of your back. Flash a sidelong glance and smile—there’ll be time to deal with this later. Someone’s calling your name and when you see her your eyes bug out. She used to work for you. “What are you doing here?” she asks. Ask her the same question.

Wander out for a smoke just in time to meet Natalia on her way in. “I hope you’re wearing something sexy under that jacket,” you say. Yes she is. Head back down and dance for awhile. Interact. Spy the woman in red. Your girlfriend lifts her skirt and sticks her ass in front of a camera, a woman spanks it, and a dozen monitors moon the room. Your girlfriend’s kissing everyone now, including the cocktail waitress who keeps trying to get you to buy a vial of mystery liquor.

You’re upstairs chatting with Jamie. It’s been two years since you last saw this girl but she acts like it’s only been a week. She’s pretty… and witheringly vapid. Go ahead and see if you can push her buttons. “I still have those naked pictures of you… you and those big tits and that sexy ass,” you tell her. She laughs. Natalia appears at your side. Make the necessary introductions.

Leave with the German girl when she tugs at your arm, concern etched in the furrows of her brow. She pulls you outside into the downpour, around the corner, and you see your girlfriend huddled on the curb, soaking wet, head hanging heavily. What a mess. You’re both hauling her up, getting her to stand, scolding her for overdoing it. Try to find a cab but give up after 20 minutes in the rain, after some yuppie steals your ride and you’re this close to hauling him out by the neck.

Take your girlfriend inside and tell Jamie to get her a glass of water. Run downstairs and let everyone know what’s going on. When you come back up Jack-n-Jill are outside helping your girlfriend into a cab. Hand the driver 20 bucks and then stare in bewilderment—the driver’s saying something but it’s coming across as white noise. Before you can react Jill throws in another 20 and the beast is satisfied. Broken meter… goddamned crook from Crapistan. Make a note of the number and tell the cabbie he’d better get your mate home safe and sound. Tell her you’ll call in five minutes. Slam the door.

And, of course, once she’s at home she calls you to say she feels fine.

Go to the bodega with Natalia and grab some ciggies. On the way back you see Film Boy and Cherry Girl hailing a taxi. They invite you to an absinthe party. Turn down their invite—later on you’ll be glad you did. You find the German girl, meaning to thank her for taking care of your girlfriend, and the two of you sit upstairs drinking water. The way she’s staring at you… you know it’s coming. “I’m going to do something mad,” she says. Don’t flinch when she grabs you and presses her lips to yours, when all you can think is that impulsive is the word you would have used, or crazy even… but not mad. Stick your hand up her skirt and feel her cunt over her panties. She’s cute, actually. “Shall we go, uh, downstairs?” you ask, feeling a tad awkward. When you stand she puts her arms around your neck and kisses you again.

The night’s winding down. You find the cocktail waitress by the dance floor and she’s hounding you again, asking you to do a body shot with her. “Look, how much commission do you make off this crap?” you ask. She tells you. “Well, why don’t I just give you the money and lick you wherever I want.” When you say this, place your hand on her ass for emphasis. She won’t mind.

It’s a wrap. Natalia’s right here, in her underwear, lying next to you as your girlfriend’s pretty mouth clamps onto your member. Everyone’s split, run off to after hours, gone home to sleep, fuck, masturbate, watch television. Everyone’s on automagic pilot.

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