I’d never really walked around the club at night. I knew people were hiding all over, screwing in the parking lots and the spaces between the buildings. I knew that they looked for each other in the park at the end of the road, past the lit-up parts, in the darkness that smelled green.
I veered left and walked up a steep little hill. Old sperm was growing like spores in the grass. I passed rustling, a grunt. I walked into the forest. My eyes turned to pins through the rows of thick trees. There was someone behind me. I crouched down and rested in front of a trunk.
I knew it would happen.
‘Working?’ a voice asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘How much?’
‘Sixty.’
‘Suck and fuck?’
‘Yeah.’
The guy stuffed some crumpled-up money in my hand. I knew it wasn’t enough. Sixty? This is what I’m good for? This is how I work?
The guy pulled me up. He took me jogging through trees. Leaves were ripping down all around us. I was trying to breathe, I was skipping to run. The tree trunks were gleaming with dark purple glaze.
‘Here. Stop here.’
I didn’t see his face. He was pushing me forward. I banged into wood. Fuck! I should’ve said more. His hands on my shoulders, his weight from behind. My teeth grazed the bark and my knees sank in mud.
The man was holding his cock at my neck. He was trying to turn me around by the chin. I could see him, I swear, from the back of my head. He was chubby, some father, a bull with a beard.
‘Take it. Come on.’
Oh god, this guy had the funniest dick in the world! A stubby old mushroom with a soft wilted head. He was tapping it downward, trying to paste with it back and forth on my lips.
‘Bareback,’ he grunted. ‘Gimme bareback. Please.’
‘Condom,’ I said, shutting my lips.
My neck stayed arched while the guy searched his pockets. The sky was the colour of bruises, the feeling of him. I promised myself: this was the last time.
But the guy started getting pissed. He couldn’t find a condom. He was swearing and he started pushing his naked cock into my face all over again. This time, he grabbed under my jaw. I whipped my head from side to side, but he kept smashing the mushroom into my lips.
A growl was spreading through my chest.
I was seething. Blowing. My brain disappeared. I scratched my fingers down the guy’s legs. I pulled at his hairs, tried to rip his flesh.
‘You little cat! You scratching me up?’
The guy’s pants lay in a pool at his feet. I was stuffed in the mouth and my fingers were scurrying, digging inside his thick leather slit. I picked the whole wad. Took plastic too. Buried it under the dirt of my knees. His balls were slapping like jelly on my chin. I tensed up to keep him from going so fast. But I couldn’t get tense, something made me loose. I kept feeling this strangeness blow up through my body, up from the mud, up to my throat. It made my saliva start tasting like tin. I was sucking to swallow, to keep myself breathing, his thickness, his cock, his stale white drops.
For a second I thought that someone else was there, or something behind me, around me, a swell of warm air. Something was telling me to take his body, suck out his energy – take him from him.
I heard myself moan. The guy let go of my head. My eyes flew high to the grid of the branches where darkness was being sucked by the whole sky.
‘Say fuck me, please. Say fuck me, fuck me … ’
My hands held tight on to the columns of his thighs.
‘Fuck me. Say it: Fuck me, fuck me … ’
‘Fuck me.’ God! Are you there in the tree?