Preview from Sex Acts And Emotional Problems

The steaming dance party took place inside a loft apartment which had no business functioning as anything more

than an artist’s work studio. There was barely enough room for anyone who wasn’t dancing to sit or stand comfortably without being in someone else’s way, or getting accidentally groped, or burnt by a blunt or joint.

“Here,” Michael handed Caitlyn his flask.

They stood in a corner, several feet right of the apartment door, and immediately behind the bathroom.

“I gotta talk to this guy real quick,” he said before disappearing into a shadowy forest of writhing bodies.

The invisible wall of marijuana smoke, body odor, and sweat which surrounded her was the furthest thing from Caitlyn’s idea of a good time. 

She turned her face into the corner where she stood, hoping to find just one gasp of cool air. It was useless.

Caitlyn decided to wait for Michael in the hall. Cigarette smoke, space, and the heinous fluorescent lighting against walls painted the color of forgotten guacamole, proved welcome relief from the packed party.

A few fashionably dressed girls stood to the right of the door and Caitlyn turned left. She noticed a tall guy with broad shoulders standing alone four feet down the hall. He wore a light colored long sleeve shirt that washed out his already fair skin. A short, even layer of loosely tousled blond curls topped his head. 

He set his right foot and shoulders against the wall and cracked open a fresh pack of Marlboro Special Blend No. 27. Caitlyn walked up to him just as he took out a cigarette.

“Can I have one?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied with a low drawl and turned the pack toward her. “What’s in the flask?”

Caitlyn pulled out a cigarette.

“Probably whiskey,” she answered.

The stranger leaned a couple of inches closer to light the tobacco for her.

“You don’t know?” he eyed her skeptically.

“It’s my friend’s,” she explained. “He asked me to hold onto it.”

“So I give you a cigarette and you don’t wanna share a drink with me?”

Caitlyn took a long drag. 

“I didn’t say that,” she shook her head.

“It’s what it sounded like to me,” he shrugged and leaned back against the wall.

“What’s your name?”

“Ian.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Meditating.”

“While you smoke a cigarette?”

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked.

“I came with a friend,” Caitlyn told him. “He had to meet someone.”

“His drug dealer?”

“I don’t think…” Caitlyn stopped. “Probably.”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “He gonna be a while?”

“I don’t think so.” 

“I got a friend having a smaller party upstairs if you wanna hang for a bit.”

“Here,” Caitlyn raised the flask to Ian’s chest.

A smile tugged at the corner of his full pink lips. 

“Are you sure?” he asked as he accepted the flask.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Thanks for the cigarette.”

Ian took a long drink.

“Thanks for the whiskey,” he returned the flask. “What’s your name?”

“Caitlyn!” Michael called from the apartment door as he approached them.

“Caitlyn,” she answered Ian.

Michael tucked his fingers around the back of her left arm, under her armpit.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn nodded. “Way too hot in there.”

“All right,” he squeezed. “Let’s go.”

“Bye, Ian,” Caitlyn said to the blond.

Michael tugged her impatiently. He continued to clutch her arm as they shuffled down the hall, up through the stairway, and out the front door of the building.

“What’s your problem?” Caitlyn jimmied herself free from his grip.

“You’re acting like a hooker all the time,” Michael winced as he flung the insult.

“Excuse me?”

“What the hell was that in the hall?” he snatched his flask from her. “With Ian?”

Michael threw his head back and drank.

“I don’t even know that guy,” Caitlyn said.

“That makes it worse,” Michael squinted at her. “You’re just some sex crazed pussy peddler now?”

“Do I need to remind you that I never asked you for money?”

“Do I need to remind you that I invited you out tonight? And when you come out with me, with a guy who fucks the shit out of you and gives you coke, then you don’t embarrass yourself by flaunting that ass on some homeless hipster musician with dirty fingernails.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Michael,” Caitlyn corrected him. “You are. And I wasn’t flirting with him. I asked for a cigarette and he invited me upstairs. It’s not…”

Michael cut her off, “Oh, so you get some cash and new clothes from a European perv and all of a sudden you’re so fucking hot?”

“You fuck me twice,” Caitlyn stepped toward him and lowered her voice, “hand me three hundred the first time, four hundred the second, and when I decide to follow a solid business trend all of a sudden you take to verbally assaulting me?”

“What the fuck were you doing with Ian?”

Caitlyn rubbed her brow.

“I thought the money was supposed to keep us from having these types of discussions.”

Michael grabbed her wrist and marched toward Bushwick Avenue.

“We’re taking a cab,” he announced. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

“And what,” Caitlyn sped clumsily behind him, “make me never want to fuck anyone else again?”

“I don’t care who you fuck,” Michael declared. “I just don’t wanna see them or know about it.”

“Ian’s too blond for me,” she told him. “I prefer dark hair on skin that pale.”

“You’re a fucking cunt.”

“And you’re an entitled, abusive prick.”

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