Jackamo

“It’s a good thing we get along so great in bed,” I said, “Because I don’t think we could ever actually share a meal together.”

She agreed. While my cooking skills had warmed the hearts of many, she would not thaw for anything other than deli turkey, like a child. Like her child. Turkey was the one food I generally refuse to eat. But she was the first date I had in over a year who actually contributed weed of her own, and the only girl I knew who had no problem dealing with the snow, thanks to her jeep with a Rudolph head strapped on to the front. She was an awkward, silly girl who always found it funny when I told her I thought she was tough and sexy.

We got stoned and made out, listening to music as she sat on my lap. We sang along to “Iko Iko,” which I only knew from Warren Zevon’s failed debut album, and she only knew from her daughter’s children songs.

My grandma and your grandma were sittin by the fire.

My grandma told your grandma, I’m gonna set your flag on fire.

She broke out into a little pattycake session with her legs up on the table and her head tilted back on my shoulder.

Hey now (hey now), hey now (hey now), I-ko, I-ko, un-day Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né, jock-a-mo fee na-né

She knew I wanted her to go in the bedroom by the way I tugged at her dress, so she rose from the couch. She started to walk past me, but I stopped her. This black cocktail dress she put on for no other reason than to take off, I let my hands get to know the fabric. My fingers explored the stitches, folds, wrinkles. My thumb teased the edge of her hem, a gentle reception between her inner thigh and my grasp, which began to wander and intimate itself with her curves.

Look at my king all dressed in red

I-ko, I-ko, un-day.

I betcha five dollars he’ll kill you dead

Jock-a-mo fee na-né

I cupped her ass, placing my face on the side of her hips, embracing her, then started rubbing her pussy from behind, which is my favorite way. But after a moment I pulled back so she could see me lick her coulis from my fingers.

Hey now (hey now), hey now (hey now), I-ko, I-ko, un-day Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né, jock-a-mo fee na-né

Then I pulled her dress up just a little so I could run two fingers up the front and finger her as she stood before me. She doubled over, still standing, but supporting herself on my shoulders, leaning in to tease my ear with her lips, then her tongue. It was an awkward position, but I kept the rhythm going – I kept my lips going too, even if I was just kissing parts of her dress. She was wet like wine you spilled in your sleep. Wet like my eyes after a dream. Wet like daybreak. Her legs shook unexpectedly as she started whimpering. She started swaying. She started cursing. She started mumbling unintelligible prayers. She started to cum, gripping my shoulders tighter as she thrust herself on my fingers until she finally crumbled.

Hey now (hey now), hey now (hey now), I-ko, I-ko, un-day Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né, jock-a-mo fee na-né

I gave her a moment to recover, then brought up my fingers, fragrant as macerated fruit, sugar syrup now slightly tacky forming a web between my fingers. They disappeared into her mouth. I stroked her hair and brushed it aside to asked her, “Laura?”

She pulled off of my fingers, with a little drip. Still gasping she shook her head and grinned. “No.”

This was the second time she was here, but I still didn’t know her name, yet with each orgasm I was one guess closer to finding out.

Back in the bedroom, I was trying to coerce the information out of her. Hints at least. If I had to make her cum to get a guess I was going to withhold her from cumming until she would have to tell me. And it didn’t work. And it drove me mad. And I decided to just make her cum until that was torture in itself. And as fun as that was, it was more torture for me. And I pulled her hair while she choked on my cock. And I tied her hands behind her back and spanked her and slapped her after every time she came and demanded to know, what does it start with, or how long is it, or what does it end with, or is it from the bible, or what. And somewhere between shudders and moans and the sounds of slapping skin came a confession: she bleated out what letter her name ended with, and that it’s the name of a song I would know. And in that instant I no longer cared what her name might be. I knew that at this point if I really wanted to know, I could easily find out. I liked knowing her, but I was way more turned on by the fact that she was saved in my phone as just a question mark.

Hey now (hey now), hey now (hey now), I-ko, I-ko, un-day Jock-a-mo fee-no ai na-né, jock-a-mo fee na-né

The Interview

brazil_flag_mapI’ve been waiting to get this job. Two months now. Two interviews, waiting on a third. I’m starting to have a bad feeling. I think dating has prepared me for this – I know when they don’t want me, I can feel it when they become vacated of interest. It’s palpable.  Like when I said to Amanda that I would never want kids, that I hated kids, that having kids would be the worst possible thing I could do to my life, I could smell the silence, I could hear the light go out in her eyes. But we still had a good time. We still finished dinner. We still got gelato. We still made out in my car and I still felt her up. She had a nice body too. But she really wanted a baby in it at some point. So we would not have a second date. And I would not lie about what I want just to try sleeping with her.

Two interviews doesn’t mean anything either. I had two dates with Gabriela and I thought it was going well. She was a gorgeous six-foot-one Brazilian woman with thick, cascading red hair. She was into feminism and social justice and greasy food. We had similar appetites and she complained how she gained a hundred pounds since coming to the states. Sugar is in everything. And she can just see me as a fat American kid eating chicken nuggets and ketchup and I laughed it off but thought her choice of words was rather rude. We talked about how racist America is but still not as racist as Brazil. Apparently, if you’re anything other than black, you’re white. Asians, Mexicans, they’re all white so long as they’re not black. We talked about how when she was 13 she was in an abusive relationship with a 19 year old boy and how her dad would drive drunk with a bottle of whisky between his legs because that’s fairly standard down there.

Since she was new in town I drove her around some of the more beautiful parts of the city – the river, the statues, the park. Such beautiful expanses, still held within the city limits. She wore a charming blue and white Greek inspired dress and I tried rubbing her leg a bit throughout the drive even though I still had no idea what I was doing. When we got back I gave her a six pack of her favorite, illusive beer and she took me upstairs. I didn’t know what to expect. I was still struggling with confidence issues before taking pills. And a three flight walk up doesn’t exactly put me on my game. But we split a beer and made out and all I could think was this amazing woman could have any guy up here with her, and she’s chosen to have me, and I creeped my hand up her thigh until I realized she wasn’t wearing panties and I fingered her, and sucked her pierced nipples, and pulled her hair and choked her, and she told me harder, don’t be afraid, and I strummed her clit and she grabbed my wrist and said she’s not a banjo, and I really wanted a blowjob but I didn’t know what to do, and I said her sucking on my finger makes me think about putting my cock in her mouth, and she whimpered, asked to please put my cock in her mouth and it clicked and I just told her to suck it, and she got down on her knees and I was afraid I wouldn’t be ready but she worked it and held on to my thighs as I held on to her amazing fiery red mane and fucked her mouth until I asked if she wanted my cum and she squealed with delight and I shot down her throat and she said thank you and we kissed and I asked if she liked how it tastes and she said it tastes like victory, it’s her reward for the effort, and I really wanted to see her again and eat her pussy and fuck her but that would be our last date because she’s looking for love and she didn’t see a future for us. There was that familiar paranoid silence between texts which gave me a bad feeling.

But I kept thinking about how much she enjoyed giving me head. Is it possible she just blew me for selfish reasons? Instead of me giving it to her, did she take it from me? Did she already know there was no future for us and decided to play me just to suck a dick? Would I have been more powerful to deny her? Fuck no, I wanted that blowjob. I craved that blowjob like steel craves a stone. My edge will grow dull without it, but getting sharper means I will lose a small amount of myself in the end.

But I’m not always right. After all, I got the job.