jump to headers

cut this picture into you and me
burn it backwards kill this history
make it over make it stay away
or hate'll sing the ending that love started to say
there's a kid a floor below me saying brother can you spare
sunshine for a brother old man winter's in the air
walked me up a story asking how you are
told me not to worry you were just a shooting star
sweet adeline
sweet adeline
my clementine
sweet adeline
it's a picture perfect evening and I'm staring down the sun
fully loaded deaf and dumb and done
waiting for sedation to disconnect my head
or any situation where I'm better off than dead

March, 2011

Pacey Witter walked through the heavy, velvet curtains and into the darkened nightclub. Letting his eyes slowly adjust, he surveyed the crowded room and convinced himself that he was doing the right thing; he deserved a bit of fun. Walking towards the bar, he took out his wallet and pulled out some cash. His fingers brushed up against the medal in his wallet and he pulled them out quickly, as if it had burnt them. No!, he put thought directly out of his head and approached the bartender.

"Martini-- wet and dirty... please," he looked at the bartender, and then remembering, "Oh! can I have an onion with those olives? Thank you."

She flashed him an annoyed look and then smiled.

"Here you go, darlin'. $6.50."

"Damn. $6.50, you gotta be kidding me. That's highway robbery!," he smiled back at her, remembering fondly what it was like to flirt with someone.

"You want I should make you another one, sweetness? This time I'll use the cheap stuff...." Both of their hands were on his money on the bar. He lifted his hand, acquiescing. She took the twenty and turned her back to the bar, shooting him a look over her shoulder before taking his change from the register and placing it on the bar. He picked up all but $1.50 and looked into her eyes.

He could get good at this. He used to be great at it.

His eyes traveled around the room, looking from person to person. he took a seat at the bar and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. His attention wandered around the room checking out all of the people around him. He wasn't really looking for someone in particular, just trying to occupy himself. Across the oval-shaped bar he saw a pretty blonde talking animatedly with another blonde and a dark-haired man. Her head was tossed back and she was laughing, her mouth open sensuously. She reminded him of Andie, his high school girlfriend-- his college girlfriend. Hell, she might have even ended up his wife if... Stop it man! Enough! He had to stop thinking about, dwelling on the past.

He looked back at the threesome. The blonde was clearly with the man, leaning back into him familiarly, his arm wrapped around her waist, but they were both flirting openly with the other woman. He didn't know how he could do it. God, she really did look a lot like Andie... or was it just the situation that they were in that reminded him of her. He looked past them at another group of people.

Andie wasn't his first love, she wasn't even his second, but still they had been together through most of high school and the first two years of college. She was his first real relationship and, unfortunately, his last. There had been women before and after her, but no one that he had ever wanted to spend any time with. He had been comfortable with her, he trusted her, he might have even started to love her by the end. But by then it was too late, she'd found someone else. She had deserved to find someone else really, he didn't blame her. But it hurt none the less. She had to have felt that their relationship had always been strained, that he could never fully be in love her, that he could never give himself to her totally. He told himself over and over that he loved her, that she completed him, but even though he thought that these things were true; deep, deep in his heart he knew that they would never be. In the end, she knew before he did, and she allowed herself to find someone who would be in love with her completely. He had walked in on them, entangled in each other's bodies, on a weekend that he had come down to her university in Virginia for a surprise. Pretty blondes. No more pretty blondes. He turned his attention to the bartender and ordered another drink.

After a few cocktails, he felt his cockiness returning and decided that he would start working on what he he'd come to the club for. He needed to get out more. He needed to meet some new people, find himself a woman, have some fun for a change. All that he had done since graduating college at NYU, was work his ass off trying to get out of New York. He got a great job, working for a small software developing company, moving quickly up through the ranks to Lead Technical Designer; until they merged with a larger company out of California and they had transferred him out there. And here he was. Trying to get laid. He lit another cigarette and walked towards an attractive woman sitting alone at a table near the dancefloor.

"I'm a shitty dancer," he said as got he near enough for her to hear him. "Can I buy you a drink or something?"

She looked at him, smiled and pointed to the empty seat across from her.

"Vodka Tonic," and she stuck out her hand.

Pacey smiled, "Well, Vodka-tonic, it is a pleasure to meet you. Pacey Witter." He nodded for the cocktail waitress' attention as she passed and ordered them a round.

She was attractive. She reminded him of no one he had ever seen before. They got drunk. They might have even danced a couple of times. As the night wore on and they ordered more and cocktails, she leaned in and got closer and closer to him. He decided, what the hell, and he kissed her. He didn't expect fireworks and he didn't get them. He took her home.

As a cab pulled up to the curb, he briefly thought of simply putting her into it alone and begging off, but he stopped himself. Move on, Pacey. Have a good time Instead, he watched as her skirt pulled higher as she slid across the seat and climbed in beside her placing his hand on her bare leg. He looked at the back of the driver's head.

"Twenty-fourth and Guerrero."

She leaned her head back and licked her lips, turning her face to his. He kissed her again, harder. He felt her hands go up around his neck and her tongue snake deep into his mouth. This is not a bad idea, he thought silently to himself, as he raked his fingernails along her smooth thighs.

The cab pulled up to his apartment. He paid the driver and led her out and into the building. It was an older flat, just post the '06 quake, the landlord had said. Pacey had been there for about two weeks so far, and he liked it, it was starting to feel like him. He had driven most of his things across country with him and the rest had been delivered just days before. When they walked into his apartment and he turned on the lights, she spoke.

"Where are you from, Pacey Witter?"

"Huh? Oh, the boxes. New York, via Capeside, Massachusetts."

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah. Me neither."

He led her towards the bedroom. He didn't want to talk to her. He kissed her again, hoping that she wouldn't ask any more questions.

"Something else to drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Beer, water, vodka, vodka..."

"Sure, vodka... sounds good..."

He left her there, in the bedroom, and went into the kitchen to get them both another drink. He inhaled on a cigarette and took a hit from the bottle before replacing the cap and carrying their drinks back into the bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, exactly where he had left her. She looked as if she had hardly moved. He walked over and stood in front of her, handing her the glass.

"To you.," he smiled and moved closer, parting her legs with his. They drank and he took their glasses placing them on the night stand.

"You're complicated man, aren't you, Pacey Witter?"

He said nothing and closed her mouth with his, pushing her back onto the bed and running his hands through her dark mass of curly hair and down her arms. She responded by pulling at his shirt and moving her hands around to the small of his back. He sat up, over her, and unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off to reveal his muscular, yet thin, upper body. He pulled her dress up over her head leaving her in a pair of black panties. She moved her hands to her own breasts, teasing him. It was working... He needed this, sex. His mouth closed over a nipple and she let out a long-held sigh as she groped at his belt buckle and managed to open his pants. His fingers were inside her and he was kissing her passionately, he pulled off his pants and tore at her underwear until they were both naked.

She climbed over him and he was on his back as she took him in her mouth. He looked down at her, placing his hand on her head and feeling around his night stand with his free one. When he had what he had been searching for, he put his hand under her chin, leading her back up to him and kissing her again. He rolled on a condom and pushed her violently onto her back. He was as hard as he could stand and she gasped as he slid into her, bringing her hips up to meet his hard, fast rhythm. When he finally came, they were both satisfied and exhausted. He rolled off of her and pulled off the condom, dropping it into the ashtray on his bedstand.

"Mmmm... pass me that vodka," she said into his chest. He sat up, still holding her to him, and did as he was told, saying nothing. He lit another cigarette and took a pull off his own cocktail. She smiled up at him.

"That was nice..."

He knew that he had to speak.

"Yes...," finally came from his lips and he leant down and kissed her again. She closed her eyes.

When he awoke several hours later, his head was throbbing. He could hear her in the the bathroom, the water running. He sat up, head spinning and nauseous, and lit a cigarette. He was sitting on the edge of the bed when she entered the room, dressed.

"Good morning. I have to go. I have to get to work soon. I've left my number on your dresser. Are you okay?," she spit out in one breath.

"Huh? Oh, yeah... a bit hung really."

She looked flirtatiously at him, her eyes wandering to his midsection and one eyebrow rising, "I'll say."

And she walked out of the bedroom. He followed after her into the living room where she picked up her bag and jacket.

"It was very nice to meet you, Pacey Witter. Call me sometime."

Then she was gone and he was left standing hung over, naked, and alone in his living room.

Go to part 2