horseboykarl

She's young, got that vacant strung-out look about her, wandering around like a lost puppy. I down my vodka shot, and decide to close the deal with her. Her eyes show a brief sign of life when I offer her a twenty to give me what I need. I lead her out of the pub, around the back to the alley. I get an uneasy sense that someone is there, but when I look, I can't see anything. So I lean against the wall and unzip. Her mouth latches on to me, gracelessly. She's not skilled, but I'm not here for the pleasure of it. I keep my gaze fixed to the opposite wall, not closing my eyes, not losing myself in any sort of pleasant fantasy, just thrusting into her heat, knowing it will work eventually.

It does and I spurt into her mouth, the spasms mechanical, almost dutiful. She spits and turns away after I hand her the money. I hate what I'm doing, but I have to keep any sort of feeling away, can't let myself really want anything . . . or anyone.

I realize that someone really is there, watching me, but I try to stay calm as I tuck myself away and adjust my clothing. When he steps into the light and I see his face, I freeze.

( What the fuck are you doing here? )