Kentucky Deluxe

Kentucky Deluxe
Mark Coleman

 She invites me up. I have no cigarettes for afterwards, but she says that we can just stink up her place with week old refries. I wish that I could have afforded something other than a jug of Carlos Rossi. As it turns out, watching the sun rise makes up for this.
When it decides to show up, it turns her cheeks crimson and her hair gold. Just like that, I forget that she’s a whore. I take her hand in mine, and she gives it a “hello” squeeze.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a half crescent of lip. It’s more beautiful than watching every building come to life, and I tell it so with a kiss. She bears into me with all the weight in her eyes and I feel overwhelmed. But I don’t break away.
The irises are so green that the pupils start to recede. Vertigo takes charge as she lowers herself onto my lap. I can feel her sex pulsating, and respond accordingly. As her tongue moistens my beard, I grab her ass, and pull her closer.
I can’t tell which one of us is trembling. It continues unabated as she takes off her shirt, and I clumsily try to unhook her bra. She takes my hands in hers, and shows me how it’s done.
At this point I know that I’m supposed to do something, but I can’t remember what. Her eyes won’t let go of me. I’m looking into someone’s soul. She smiles, and says something that I can’t hear. I realize that I’m inside of her.
The thing bucks a few times, and it’s over. She informs me that it’s the longest she’s ever gone as I go soft between her thighs. I can’t find words for what I just experienced. For the first time in my life, I didn’t fuck. I made love. She lays down on top of me, and remains there in my embrace.
It must be going on an hour, before she gets up, and tells me that she has to go to work. I feel like crying. I ask her if she would like to have another glass of wine, first. She says that that would be nice.
We sit there, sipping our wine, and don’t speak. What just happened is bad for business. I open my mouth but the words won’t come. After that, I drive by her place a few times. The shadows in the window are like knives in my side.
I pick up more girls than I can handle, but afterwards I just sit on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. If I hadn’t told her that I didn’t care what she did, and started to take her out every night, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I could be drunkenly stabbing at cunts. Not wanting a person beneath me.
I can’t sleep at night. I know that someone undeserving is peeling off her clothes. Perhaps, making a few sarcastic professions of love over fine wine. I win a few hundred on a scratch ticket, and dine alone in the best restaurant that I can think of. I order for two, and sit there waiting. I get stood up by a dream.
Afterwards, I buy another scratch ticket. Nothing. I ask what their cheapest pint of whiskey is, and polish it off in the alley. I go back to my house, and pretend that it’s a home. Then draw the shades, and get into a cold bed.