Dirty Mouth

I kept kicking up all this dirt as I walked. I don’t know why that makes anyone feel any better about their situation. If anything it just made a person look like they were throwing this huge tantrum and no one was listening to them. So I bet I looked real immature as I stomped along underneath the bridge, throwing pebbles off the toes of my sneakers and kicking up a huge dust storm around my ankles. I guess it was more for me; a form of therapy. No one was watching me anyway. They were all going about their own business, whether it was fucking or snorting and dealing. All around me were the scum of the town; my best friends.

I’d wound my way pretty far under the bridge, almost on the side opposite of where I’d parked my car. It was dark and there were rats being chased by stray cats in the shadows. I tried not to step on any broken needles and other such trash. My anger was making me huff and damn near pull every strand of hair I owned out of my head. It was just infuriating, you know? I never asked to feel this shitty about life, it just happened. And I was growing real damn frustrated about not being able to shake it.

Suddenly this girly voice spoke out from the darkness. I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t put a name to it right away. She was calling my name and she sounded almost hesitant, either because she didn’t know if it was me she was talking to or she saw I was angry and she was scared. I chose to wish for the latter, but I knew deep down it was the former because no one really remembered my face that well.

I stopped my stomping around and looked to my right, where the voice had come from. This scrawny girl in a short plaid skirt, red Doc Marten’s, and a ripped up tank top with a puppy on it was tentatively walking towards me. She had short hair—I think the style was called a bob…she looked like she was out of the 1920’s anyway—and it was dyed pitch black. Her thick eyeliner had kind of run down her cheeks a little bit, making her look real dead. But she had this mischievous little smile on her pixie face and her eyes were fixed right on mine. That was when I remembered who she was.

“Charlotte,” I said, more to myself than to her.

Charlotte was this wild, crazy broad I met at a drug haze down in the Wolf’s Den almost a year ago. She was into the heavy stuff, and I’m talking drugs and sex. She was a bit too much of a kink for my liking, but we’d had a go once or twice. Just because she was a little crazy didn’t mean she wasn’t good at being crazy.

“I haven’t seen you around for awhile,” she commented, walking right up to me with her hands behind her back like she was hiding something. She circled me at very close proximity, like she was inspecting me.

“I’ve been busy,” I replied, “work and stuff.”

“Right…what brings you to the catacombs?” That’s what they called the deeper parts of the Den: the catacombs. “This is where the naughty people hide, you know.”

That’s when I decided to play it cool, you know, because I figured maybe I could get something out of it. Sometimes I was selfish like that.

“I came looking for you,” I said all smooth-like. “I figured you’d be lurking around here somewhere.”

She chuckled seductively by my ear. “You’re lying.”

“Does it matter?”

She paused in front of me, looking me from top to bottom. I raised my eyebrows questioningly when she looked at me and she smirked.

“Maybe not,” she said, “if you make it worth my while.”

“Tell you what,” I said, tracing her jaw with my index finger, “you get me high and I’ll give you anything you want, whatever way you want it.”

She slapped my chest playfully. “Does there always have to be something in it for you?”

I smiled and let my hands find her exposed hips. “C’mon, baby…you know I’ll pay you back in full.”

She ran her fingers through my hair. It felt good. It didn’t feel as passionate as when Emmie did it, but I didn’t want to think about her.

“I know you will,” she whispered, “you always do.”

Her eyes fell to my bandaged wrist and her brow furrowed. I tugged on her hips a little, bringing her closer to me in an attempt to distract her. But when she looked back up at me I knew it didn’t work.

“What happened to your wrist, baby?” she asked. I found it kind of funny that she worried about that but not the bruises on my face or anything.

“Little mishap at work,” I shrugged, “nothing big.”

“Are you o—”

“Let’s go somewhere, hey?” I interrupted, taking her hand and dragging her along with me. “Where’s the best place to go? Y’know, for privacy?”

“Uh, yeah, come with me,” She took the lead.

She ended up hauling me across the way to this trashy pillar coated in political graffiti. She pushed me up against it and then sank down to the ground, keeping her eyes on me the whole time. I’ll admit, it was pretty hot from my perspective. She summoned me with her index finger to join her on the ground, so I did. She cut up some lines on a broken chunk of mirror in between us. She took hers like a pro; she didn’t sniff a whole bunch after or even rub her nose. She knew what she was doing. I liked that.

I took mine and there were still some leftover crushed up remains by the time we were all done. Charlotte began to organize them into another line when I stopped her hand and told her to lie down on her back. She obliged and I picked up the remains, sprinkling them on her exposed stomach. I tossed her a ravishing look before ducking down to lick them off of her skin. She squirmed beneath me and giggled like some high school girl.

“How did I know you were going to do that?” she asked.

“Because you’re smart and beautiful,” I lied.

Charlotte really wasn’t that smart. She’d been on her own since she was 14 and gotten caught up in all the wrong crowds. But still, she was willing and I was able. Maybe that sounds a little bad. I mean, I wouldn’t have touched her if she didn’t want me to. I wouldn’t have even thought about it, I promise.

Anyway, we started kissing. I don’t really understand the big deal with kissing. It comes before everything and it’s just one of those things you gotta do, but why? What’s so damn sexy about licking the inside of someone else’s mouth? Sometimes it felt good, I guess, if the person you’re kissing is good at it, but I couldn’t help but wonder all the same. Was I a good kisser? I liked to think so. I mean, all you have to do is press your face against someone else’s for a bit and move your lips. How people fuck that up to such an extensive degree I’ll never know. It was just another one of those weird things humans do.

After a little while Charlotte said her back was starting to hurt from lying on the ground so much, so I helped her up and we started to make out against the pillar. I was getting a little bored with kissing her, not that she wasn’t good at it or anything, I just can only do it for so long before I wanna move on to bigger and better things. I removed her ratty top because to be honest, the fact that she had a puppy on her shirt made me feel like I was getting hot for a child and that is so god damn wrong. It was preventing me from getting really excited, too, so I just tossed it aside and forgot about it.

She started to get really sexy with me. She ran her hands down my front and sunk down to her knees and started unbuckling my belt and everything. I just leaned against the pillar and shut my eyes. I needed it. I needed all of it: the high, the intimacy, the carelessness. It all felt so damn good to my weary bones. It was like waking up early and getting that first cup of coffee in. I let myself get taken away for a bit, and I deserved it, or at least I felt like I did. I was exhausted and I didn’t even do anything but almost get myself beat up again. I really needed to learn to keep my mouth shut in times of danger, but it was just a nasty habit I couldn’t break. I was designed to talk back.

I’d been “orally pleasured” before. I mean I never cared for it too much, but I guess if a chick is willing to put it in her mouth who am I to tell her no? I guess that’s why I never ask a girl to do it and I sure as hell don’t force her to. I was really passive in bed, I guess. I just let her do what she wanted and I complied as best as I could. I mean I tried to make it worth her while, you know. I’d hate to be considered that asshole that took complete control, but I’d heard some girls liked it that way. I think if I was ever faced with a chick who demanded I tie her down and talk dirty to her I’d probably laugh too hard to do much of anything. Not that it’s wrong to have those kinds of kinks, I just couldn’t see myself getting into it. If I’m going to have sex, it’s just going to be sex, and hopefully by the end of it one of us feels fucking fantastic.

I was just really getting into it, you know, tilting my head back and moaning like an idiot, when I heard my name. It definitely hadn’t rolled off Charlotte’s tongue because, well, it was occupied. I gave a little jolt because I genuinely thought we were in private. Charlotte pulled back pretty quick and released me and I scrambled to cover myself back up.

I should’ve recognized the voice. That breathy, intoxicating vocal tone, stunned with the tiniest bit of curiosity but still wanted to provide the illusion that she didn’t give a damn…it’d haunted me since I first heard it. For a second I was confused. How did she find me? I mean, I knew she was always down there at the Den, but how did she know where I was? Was she looking for me, or was it by coincidence? And then, when I stopped asking myself stupid questions I wouldn’t ask out loud, I just felt mad. I felt really, really mad.

She was just standing there, maybe ten feet from where Charlotte and I were. She didn’t look grossed out from catching us in the act. She kind of had her head tilted; all her tousled blonde hair was pushed to one side and it cascaded down her leather-fitted arm. She just looked curious, like she had a right to be. She knew what we were doing and she’d interrupted it. Any normal person would’ve just moved on like they didn’t see anything and then tell all their friends about it once they were out of ear-shot, but not Emmie. Oh, no, she had to ruin my one moment of fucking peace.

“Who’s that?” Charlotte asked from my side, slipping her hand protectively across my lower stomach.

“Emmie,” I growled her name.

“Oh, I’ve heard of her,” she whispered in my ear. “She was dealing bad meth last summer.”

I didn’t say anything. Emmie and I just had this stare-off for a good minute and a half. She still looked confused and I was glaring at her with all the rage I had in my shitty body. I think the worst part about the entire scenario was that no matter how badly I wanted to hate her for being there, for ruining my day not once but twice, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hate her. And that just made me angrier with myself.

“Max,” She finally broke the silence, “can I talk to you…alone?”

Charlotte groaned by my side.

“So that’s it?” she demanded rather snippily. “I’m going to give you head then you’re just going to ditch me for some slut?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlotte.”

She stomped away from me then but I didn’t care. It gave time for Emmie to saunter over. I could tell she knew she’d fucked up; it was all over her face. That gave me a bit of enjoyment, but not nearly enough. I kept a straight face the entire time and I never lessened my glare. She didn’t deserve any puppy dog eye bullshit from me.

She folded her arms across her chest like she was cold and stared at the ground for awhile. I didn’t say anything. If she wanted to talk then she could start.

“Looks like you’ve been getting along well,” she commented, kicking a stone with her pointy-toed boot.

I put my hands in my pants pockets and gave her a grunt. If you could call purposely burning myself and feeling like utter shit while having my life threatened at work getting along well, then yeah, I’d say I was doing fucking amazing.

“So listen,” She heaved a breath, “I’m sorry for the other day with my dad and everything. I should’ve spoken up or something, I guess. I just panicked.”

“You panicked,” I echoed. “Is that why you said you didn’t care, because you were panicking?”

She shook her head solemnly. “I shouldn’t have said that, because it wasn’t true.”

I perked up a little, although I tried not to show it. I wanted to hear where she was planning on taking the conversation, though.

“I like you, Max,” she said. It looked like she really had to force those words out. “I mean, you’re cool, I guess. You’re funny, and you’re really fucked up. Most guys…well, in that scenario I would’ve just left the guy alone and moved on to the next one, but…I wanna be friends with you.”

I hacked out a laugh. “Friends…yeah, I guess that’d be for the best, wouldn’t it? Considering the fact that you have some real fucked up ex boyfriends who like to attack guys in their workplace.”

She gave me a confused stare. “What…?”

“Your lover came into my work today, threatened to—if I remember correctly—‘bash my fuckin’ head in’ if I hang around with you again.” I clarified with a dark glare.

She shook her head, clearly having some trouble understanding me. It only made the festering anger in my head cloud my eyes even more.

“Who…?” she stammered.

“Don’t fuckin’ act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” I yelled, pounding my fist against the pillar. Emmie jumped at my outburst and I took pride in the fact that she was scared of me. “You saw it coming. You sent him, didn’t you? You told him shit, didn’t you? Otherwise how would he have known where to find me? How would have known about—”

“Stop it!” she pleaded. “Stop yelling at me!”

“What did you do?” I growled, pointing a finger at her throat. “You clean up my first wounds then you go and try to give me more? What the fuck is wrong with you, Blondie?”

“What is wrong with you?” She slapped my hand away. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about! You’re acting like a fucking madman…and maybe you are. Maybe you’re fucking insane. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh, I’m fucking insane alright,” I grinned maliciously. “But I’m nothing compared to your level of twisted. So I want you to tell me what kind of shit storm I’ve been thrust into because I dared to follow you out of a fucking bar!”

“A bad one, okay?” she screamed. “And I’m sorry, but I never sent anyone after you. Do you really think I’d do that and then come to you asking for your forgiveness?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t put it past you. You’re acting pretty damn bipolar. ‘I don’t care, Max. Go away, Max. Oh, but wait, I want to be friends with you, Max. I kissed you, sent you away, and now I wanna be friends.’ What part of that makes sense to you?”

“None of it, okay? I know!” She yelled desperately. “I know I don’t make any sense, I know it! I just—I guess I’d rather watch you getting your dick sucked by someone like Charlotte than be honest with you about everything, even though watching that made me kind of angry and—”

“Why do you do it, then?” I demanded. I have to admit, I was getting pretty fed up with her shit at that point.

“Because I’m scared,” she responded meekly.

“Scared of what? I haven’t done anything to you to deserve this, and honestly, your excuses are just as pathetic as your actions thus far.” I retorted sourly.

“I told you I get it,” she sighed. “I’m scared of everything: rejection, distance, closeness, love, hate…I wanna be around you Max but that’s terrifying because I don’t feel this way for many people. You understand that, don’t you? You’re a loner, too. You have ‘friends’ but they’re not really your friends, are they?”

I’d be lying if I said Tad and Mandy didn’t pop into my head. Even though they’d basically saved my ass at the restaurant, I’d still treated them like shit for it. And the only reason I felt bad for the way I treated them was because I was worried it’d make them leave me in the dust and then I’d have no friends at all and that’d make me look like an idiot. I wasn’t worried because they’d hate me and probably talk about me behind my back. I mean, they probably already did that stuff anyway. If I knew a guy like me I’d do that all the time.

“Can we please start over?” she begged. “I’m sorry.”

“You just wanna be friends,” I said, “nothing else.”

“Yeah, well…”

“No deal.”

She looked like she was about to argue me but she lost her will to fight rather quickly.

“I guess I can’t get mad at you for that,” she said. “I’m kind of a poison.”

“Yeah, you kind of are,” I agreed. “But that’s not why I said no deal. I said that because if I have to look at your fucking face and I’m not allowed to kiss it then I’m not willing to go through the trouble—”

“You can kiss me,” she interrupted quietly.

“I—wait, what?”

“I said you can kiss me. Do you want to kiss me?”

“Well, yeah, but doesn’t that go against what you’ve been saying this whole—”

“Kiss me then, Max.”

“But, no, this wasn’t how this argument was supposed to transpire. See, I was supposed to get psychological revenge and then you were—”

“You talk way to damn much,” She said.

I don’t like getting interrupted that often and I’ll be honest, Blondie was pushing her luck that day, but getting interrupted by a kiss is something I can handle. I mean, I could get used to it if given the chance. I could even get used to fucked-up Emmie, despite how angry I’d been with her just a few minutes before. Damn women, they always make me feel like such a hypocrite. I could be at my wit’s end with one of them and all they’d have to do is bat their damn eyelashes at me and I’d let them do whatever they pleased with me after that. I’d probably even wash their car and clean their house for them if they asked me to as long as I was getting something pleasurable out of it. It was moments like that I realized how much I hated myself, but it was also moments like that where I realized how much I fucking loved myself.