Mark and Roque are twenty-four year old roommates. Roque vicariously lives his sex life by perusing porn and dating sites, while Mark, as shy as he is, has accidentally met Bridget, a 36 year old surgery nurse who is into casual group sex. She brought Mark to a secret party. He was so uncomfortable, he wanted to leave early and got a ride home with Amy, a “Goth” tattooed, blue-haired psychic, about his age.
Bridget called Mark again when she needed a second emergency ride to the animal hospital. Deeply saddened by her dog’s death, Bridget asked Mark to stay the night, and as they shared their tragic childhood stories a deeper level of intimacy ensued. So they made love and Mark fell in love, or at least started to. Unfortunately Bridget felt the relationship could not seriously work and so she tried, without success, to tell him so. The upshot of this, is that Mark began to come out of his shell, connect with people again and was able to score a job in a paint factor. He also talked Bridget into adopting another dog and now that he and Bridget are together again in her apartment, he is discovering that she is cold and detached. When Mark suggests they make love a second time, Bridget avoids his affection by inviting Amy over see the new dog. In this segment, Amy has already arrived and they are finishing dinner.
SEX FROM THE NECK DOWN – Is that possible? [Part 9 of 12]
You know, there’s one thing about a girl with an inked body, titanium piercing, and blue spiked hair. The costume may change but the message stays the same: ‘I’m NOT you.’ That declaration applies to Mark as well. Amy is nothing like him. In fact, Goth Gal is exactly the opposite of what feels comfy in Mark’s world. But get this, every few thousand years the planets perfectly align, and tonight is one of those times. Tonight, Amy and Mark have one thing in common, besides sharing a pizza with Bridget in her kitchen. Tonight, both A and M have sex on their minds. Yep. Amy wants a three-way romp. Mark, subtracting one digit from three, might consider it, if it’s one-on-one behind a closed door. You see, he’s feeling Goth’s heat. She’s sizzling the room in a weird kind of way, wanting to bounce in a weird kind of way, which is intriguing in a weird kind of way, which means, having Amy might be nice, in a weird kind of way. But with a nurse in the mix? Expanding their body ball? With six hands all over the place? Touching everything? That could be freaky!
All this burns through Mark’s mind as he scarfs down that last piece of pepperoni. Amy shoots him another rascally look, and oh boy, the vibe’s getting heavy. Intimidating, even. Gotta shield it. Maybe looking at Bridget would help. Maybe she’ll say something that shuts the oven. She’s sitting to his left, sorta watching them, drinking what’s left of the wine.
His brows raise, the secret sign for, “Could use some help over here.”
Nothing. No words of rescue. No suggestion of dessert or tea or ice cream, or even weed. Just a returned stare from vacuous eyes, revealing nothing.
“Mark…” comes from his right.
He turns back to Amy. “Yeah?”
“It’s not dirty.”
“Those parties. You want to know why we like them. Why we do it.”
Again, a call for help to Nurse Bridget. What comes back is a dry clarification. “Amy’s psychic. She knows everything.”
Uh, great. He figured that. And now he feels cornered. He grabs his napkin and starts folding it into tiny nervous squares, keeping his eyes fixed on the empty pizza box in front of him. “It’s not my life,” he mutters, low and unconvincing. “If ya wanna do it, that’s cool.”
“Liar,” Bridget broadcasts.
Whoa! Where’s her friendship?! He heats up and jerks right. “What do you want me to say?! That you’re both sex-heads? You already know that! I shouldn’t even be here.”
“But you want to be,” Amy states.
“You don’t know WHAT I want!”
Bridget leans in. “She feels intentions.”
“Oh yeah? What are they?!”
“You want to play with us,” Amy retorts.
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“C’mon,” Amy coaxes. “I know you do.”
Mark flushes, again hoping for nursing aid. And again, nothing from Bridget. So reclaiming his napkin, he refolds it tighter, searching for grit from somewhere inside. It soon shakes to the surface, exploding with, “Okay! Okay…” He turns to the older nurse. “But just me and Amy.”
“The three of us,” the psychic affirms.
“Amy, you’re scaring him.”
“No I’m not.” Amy pulls the napkin from Mark’s hands and clasps them. “This man’s been around. He watches pornography movies. He knows what happens with two girls and a guy. And he’s thinking about that right now.”
He can’t deny it. Amy knows everything. And Bridget’s booting him to the cliff where they’ll all fall off holding hands. But why? Why is she giving him away? And why is she averting his gaze when he needs to ask her that?
There’s a reason. And it’s not simple. Bridget is conflicted down to her core. Inviting Amy was about diverting a fuck, not plunging into one. And yet, doesn’t she want it? A lot? Seducing Mark had been blissful. Even idyllic. Even gentle and kind. He made her feel noble, as well as naughty. And when he left, so did his innocence, and his endearing light. It has always been that way with the men she loved. They gave, and they took away, simply by going away. The away-part always hurt, especially when they didn’t come back, and most of them didn’t.
But Amy, she always comes back. Always. And she doesn’t singe. She soothes, like she is now, as she moves her hand across the table to stroke the back of Bridget’s wrist. “It’s just play. Intense body play. And I’ll be here. No worries.” The psychic smiles.
Okay, tonight Amy could be padding, adding a wall of sex between Bridget’s heart and the possible dismissal from Mark. Kneading that girl into any dough always gets a rise without heat. A super-charged high, a sexual fix that makes you feel like you matter, like you’re loved even when you’re not. Sure it’s a mirage. You know it. Like you know the murder you witnessed was only a movie. It’s safe because it’s illusion. Strip away intimacy and sex becomes harmless. Like Amy said, it’s just play. And later the mind can make it more than it was in the fog of fantasy.
So yes, this is the way to taste him again; keeping it sweet and light like candy cotton. Bridget can accept that recipe, and she conveys that acceptance with a simple nod. To Amy, it clearly means,‘I’m in.’
Is Mark? Not yet. The room stays quiet, weighty and pensive. Finally, the hostess speaks. “Every man I know would die to be sitting where you are now.”
Sitting? He’s slumping. No. Melting, like a Popsicle stuck on a chair. It’s happening: every man’s fantasy. (Well, every straight man’s fantasy.) But is Mark that kind of man, a group-grope kind of man? His head rewinds back to Roque’s threesome flicks. How did they do that again? Can’t remember. It was an okay turn-on, but nothing that imprinted technique. Doesn’t matter. Amy’s fingers are already walking up his arm, and they know where to park. So does Bridget’s. As agreed, three are merging into one, with pecks on Mark’s face left and right. Thus begins a dance of lust; kissing, stroking, unbuttoning of clothes. Amy’s nails move to his chest, tracing a heart on his skin. She wants him, all of him, and she’s staking out her claim down below.
He’s snared now. His attention moves from nurse to flirt. They kiss; a long meeting of lips and tongues, breathing into each others throats. Carnal risk is intoxicating. And Mark’s mainlining it. He’s in her bubble, and it’s too tight for three.
Bridget floats out. It’s happening again, and it took just seconds. This was supposed to be playful, wistful fun, sex from the neck-down. Yet it’s turning it into something else. And with that something else, comes rejection from a nice guy, like a cold smack in the face.
How can she blame him, though? Or even Amy? They are who they are. As much as Amy wants to keep it light, Mark will make it deep. Because as strong as she is, in his innocence, he’s stronger. And Bridget knew it! She knew it, she knew it, she knew it! But her craving let this happen. She pretended Amy’s romp would run the usual course of rash desire. That’s not Mark. He cares, and he’s open, and he trusts. He trusted her. And now he trusts Amy. Sad. By tomorrow Amy’s “love” will have seeped through this mattress onto the floor. It blasts you up but doesn’t stick. Amy is human heroin, to which, Bridget is addicted. Everyone is. And soon, Mark will be too.
To be continued…11/11/2011
This was a difficult and delicate scene to write. I had three characters with three different agendas and I had to get them all into agreement in order to twist the plot again once the sex began. To make it even more complicated, two of those agendas were conflicted. Mark was attracted to Bridget but decided having sex with Amy might be an adventure. Bridget was avoiding intimate sex with Mark yet reconsidered a three-way if it was playful enough and avoided intimacy. And Amy had to convince them both with sheer will and psychic energy.
This scene also had to be written as real time and it couldn’t be rushed. If I skipped or missed any logic steps getting Mark and Bridget from point A to point B, the scene would fail to feel realistic. I had to ride the rationalization curve and I had to take the reader with me, moving from character to character. I also had to dwell in reactions as well as actions. Actually reactions, the decision making, was more important than the actions that followed. The thinking process (getting into Mark, Bridget and Amy’s head) is where the reader identifies with the characters.
After I got the structure in place, having reworked it a number of times, I had to then conceive of ways to tell an age old story of seduction with a new assembly of words, re-purposing some if I could. And then I had to polish again to place rhythm and meter into the sentences, swapping words based on their syllables. And once that was done, I again rewrote thinking, how can I describe action or depict dialogue in a more interesting way? Sometimes I’d come up with a great phrase but the syllable count was wrong. So again I’d have to find words that matched the flow of the sentences, like with music or poetry. Building a cadence is the best way to make a sentence flow, and when it’s done smoothly, the words don’t get in the way of the ideas.
So, after all of that, if you believed this scene, what do you think will happen next?