Part 30 Sex In My City

As full disclosure goes Lazaro thought I was a New York Times best selling author. I must have impressed him with the air I carried myself with. 

He taunted me with his story and I bitch slapped him with my novel. 

As he melted to the floor I forced his gaze up at me with deliverance. 

The gospel I delivered to him churned in his skull for what seemed to be an eternity. "Don't be such a cunt dude."

While I had his attention I drilled into him this wisdom. 

"Hey Fucker, if someone shows you their true colors weave them a flag and fly it in honor of your freedom, fuck the rest."

Stern words but this guy was on the edge and I was hell bent on rescuing him. 

I've never been able to deliver my messages subtlety, if I speak to you, you will know you've been spoken to.

His blank stare sheepishly began to recite syllables and consonants that dead ended in me figuring out this was Pulitzer worthy. 

Knowing that my superpower was listening, I went into the phone booth and came out Pen in Hand.

Stroking the ego of a helpless victim is the only way to extricate the venom from their veins and ink it onto my pages.  

This guy crossed me with his bullshit and I would curse him into my scripture. 

"Poet our relationship got stale and we began to skate on the thin parts of the ice."

Strip clubs turned into strippers and strippers turned into friends. 

That cold shoulder got old so we adopted a girlfriend and the lifestyle grew. 

Then we found rope and the headboard held. 

To be continued. 

Part 29 Sex In My City

Did I have the words confessor or culprit written on my forehead?

"If Hell has a price I'll pay for it. I'll kill the bitch!" Lazaro gutturally spit these words into the air. 

My pupils dilated as I stared into the north. What the fuck was this?

I barely knew Lazaro. 

He was the agent Claudia my photographer friend had introduced me to when we collaborated on my first poemario. 

Lazaro wasn't familiar to me this way, I was in an awkward impasse.

Nonetheless the empathy in me proved to be stronger than my logic. 

"What's the matter my friend, what blade have you been cut by?" I regrettably asked. 

He was sobbing uncontrollably, this was a disheveled man. 

I broke my fixed gaze to the north and walked over to him. 

Placing my right hand on his slumped shoulder, I shook him back to reality and got him to look at my face. 

His clenched jaw broke free only to deliver the message his turmoil released. 

"Poet, I can't get the images of her bound body out of my mind."

"Poet, we met in junior high. I was her dance partner at her quinceañera. She was my sweetheart since before I became a man."

"We have five kids and what I thought was a solid marriage and now I find her in this sordid affair."

"The woman I knew as my forever rib is now gone and in her absence lives a sexual deviant."

This guy had been drinking my Mario kool-Aid. He had read the manuscript that would enshrine me in Pulitzer history and that must have given him the courage to vent. 

I was now asking myself: Is he venting or crying out for attention?

Did he in a twisted Machiavellian way think that exposing his wife this way in my novel would purge the agony from his heart?

To be continued. 

Part 28

"Poet as soon as you land come to my office." This was the last text I received before switching my phone to airplane mode. 

Lazaro was my literary agent. I couldn't sleep on the plane on account of the excitement. A new offer from a publishing house or maybe someone wanted to buy the movie rights to one of my books.

I couldn't sleep a wink, the adrenaline kept me bouncing in my window seat. 

Groggy I landed in MIA, and as soon as the word "aceré" hit my inner ear I knew this cubanito was home.

Strutting down to baggage claim I remembered that Miami had no Über service at the airport and resolved to be the GQ on cue at the taxi stand.

Frantz was my cabbie, his creole made me feel at home. "Where to messier" he exclaimed as I switched airplane mode off. 

"Come ta le vous?" I asked in an attempt to humanize our economic exchange. And in his thirty two teeth smile he replied, "se viens monsieur."

Si mi amigo, yo estoy campana. 

"Take me to Coral Coral Way and Ponce de León."

Hillstones was refuge and Ruby was the bartender that would steer me straight. She brings a smilie to this worldly bar fly. Her dark cropped hair and my distain for formality would figure me out. 

Dropped off halfway up the block, Los Locos from the valet service remembered which way to turn me, I was in their care. 

Walked into Hillstones from an eight hour flight, had two Macallans and walked down the block past my favorite Starbucks, made a left at Bulla and elevator up. 

Lazaro had summoned me, and my constitution broke into the penthouse with an eight hour flight, two drink in me, kind of smirk. 

"Hey dude what's the drama about" I sarcastically delivered. And he shut down on me suicide way.

Then I knew we were fucked. 

The view from his conference room at 2525 Ponce De Leon owned the north as far as the eye could see. 

I stared out this curtain of glass in an attempt to drown the awkwardness in the air. 

He began to wail uncontrollably, I had no hiding place. His dread imprisoned me into inquiring. 

"What's wrong my friend?"

By now he had sunk his face into the palm of his hands and all I could see, was this emasculated creature in pain. 

To be continued. 

Part 27

There are rooms that wait for us to inhabit them with the restlessness of our soul. 

Morning broke and the unfamiliarity of the room provoked a deep sigh of reflection. 

Still wrapped in a cocoon of silk, I looked around the room for a familiar sign. 

Where was I? 

What had I been involved in? 

Then as effervescent as a bubbling brook, the bubbles of the night broke through the veil. 

I was naked to the truth. There was no reconciling with the animal that lived under my fingernails. 

I had mortgaged my salvation at the site of flesh. 

Springing from the bed I landed firmly on the cold floor, sending an unsavory chill up my spine. 

Walked into the bathroom and stared into the mirror as if my reflection had answers.

Take note reader for the previous nights sexual tryst I would give up ten years of my life and three digits from my left hand. 

Yet as sensually gratifying as it was, I recognized a new stripe on this tiger. 

I had gone to Barcelona to be with Carolina and shit had gone sideways on me. 

She had gotten used to treating me like a second class citizen. 

Sex yes, plenty of it. But love wasn't sitting at the table and I was starving. 

I found myself craving the kind of distance from this truth, that only Miami could afford. 

Back to Miami, back to Mario and the cast of characters of my Pulitzer life.

To be continued. 

 

Part 26

She left Pulitzer medals on my nightstand and all I did was buckle her into the über ride....... 

Sex isn't sex, sex is hunger feeding on itself. 

The bark of the hanging tree tattooed on her torso signified that thrust after thrust Olivia and I were feasting on each other's foreign flesh. 

I let go of the ebony knot that furled my grasp and moved down her chiseled shoulders, sinking ten digits into her collar. 

Olivia was the obstacle, I intended to obliterate into the hardwood. 

I trusted every thrust to deliver shivers down her spine and timber straight through and through, I was pine. 

My mouth was free and her naked neck screamed for a fresh bite. 

Snarling guttural beast exhales, I broke her delicate skin with my canines and blood gushed. 

Disappearing into the salt of her blood, I closed my eyes and sunk my pearls, so that my lips would suck on her. 

Blood sweat and sex I swallowed as my victim became over and over. 

Rustling leaves brought me back from the abyss. 

Odalys was spread eagle on the nest I had prepared and her fingers dared me to cross the border without permission. 

Parting from Olivia was sour yet Odalys smelled of mixed perfume and beaconed me to straddle her. 

I ran my left hand on her forehead to clear her dark hair away from her burnt wood eyes so that we would be enchanted by the depth of our sin. 

Clearing her hair with one stroke and burying my right hand under her right ass cheek for position was why I was made man. 

Her eyes swallowed two seas and three storms as she gazed at me in my enthusiasm. 

In a panic she stole herself from the eclipse and started to feel around for the gushing that escaped her. 

This beast of a woman hadn't had heaven and earth meet on her body before. 

She had questions and I was drunk on the answers her womanhood was delivering. 

Olivia's naked body tied to the tree. 

Odalys naked body beneath me. 

Our carnal desire. 

Noise in the distance crept up while I buried my hunger into Odalys and subjected Olivia to watch. 

What had been the face of eroticism a few seconds before now had been tinged by desperation. 

Olivia's nakedness was adorned by her vulnerability. Her submissive role in this threesome would now reveal the real tiger. 

The noise grew closer. It was a group of expired partiers drumming their feet closer and closer, while our sacrificial maiden fretted at the stake. 

She thrashed her arms in a panic, her eyes bulging as desperation grew. 

In the unspoken language of calamity Olivia spoke to my readiness as I sprung into action releasing her into my arms and laying her next to Odalys. 

The silence of the night bathes us in its quiet as the moon seized to exist. 

To be continued.