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[rorschach74]

Saturday Night Incest

           Asking random people about their masturbation habits is a very strange thing to attempt.  Depending on the person they either get defensive, offended, way to open about describing the best solo orgasm they ever had, turned on and expect you to help, etc.  The list is endless.  As are people’s proclivities.  

           Heading to the local dive bar in a mainly Hispanic neighborhood adds its own challenges to the endeavor.  A previous drunken adventure there had almost resulted in finding myself on the wrong side of a six verses one fight.  I say fight knowing full well the outcome. Nevertheless, I decided time enough had passed and they would have forgotten about it.  Walking in, the room had the smell of stale beer, cigarettes, and the faintest scent of sex.  Perfect. Problem was it was only 8:30pm and there were only three people there.  The bartender, a thirtyish Hispanic man who goes by Flash (never got an explanation as to why but that’s usually how nicknames go), a woman I had never seen before, pretty but aged too quickly by a devil may care approach to life, and myself.  I sat four stools away from the woman as they seemed to be having a private conversation alone in the bar.  Flash came over to me, got me my drink and went back to the woman.  I thought to myself, well we’re all alone.  If he’s gonna talk now’s “his” chance.  So I wait for a break in the conversation and ask him if I can ask him a few questions about a story I’m writing.  With confidence he’s all about it.  “Ask away”, he says.  As I pose the questions I see on his face a very distinct uncertainty and horror.  After I explain as much as I can get out he interrupts me, calls me a faggot, and tells me to get out of his bar.  

           Driving to the next attempt I am actually relieved that he didn’t give an answer.  I didn’t want to like that place anymore.  I didn’t want his story told.  He was small minded and only concerned himself with the five feet in front of his face.  The story I was looking for was complex, unique, and dangerous, like speakeasies in the 20’s.  And right then I knew my next destination.  

           9:45pm.  This bar was known for having a secret speakeasy in the backroom.  I had asked once how could it be secret if everyone knew about it.  The obvious irony was lost on the bartender.  While I didn’t know the password I figured it couldn’t be that hard to get the info I needed.

           The only things in common with the two bars were the red hint in decorum and lack of televisions.  (Both only had two)  By this time of night a small but healthy crowd had formed inside the “main” bar. I sat down, ordered my drink, and contemplated my approach.  I figured I should be more tactful and try to bring the subject up after a bit conversation. Near the end of the bar I saw two girls and a guy in a group.  Noticing the guy was pretty much out of the conversation, I acquired my target.  I quickly became friends with him as we became thick as thieves.  Sharing stories reserved for the closest of confidants.  I soon began my subtle attempts at talking about the subject.  He told me with relish that because the hottest girls were in those videos he watched them.  The idea of incest disgusted him but he also came for a healthy family. Parents together 32 years, 2 older sisters in committed healthy marriages.  No divorce, nothing was ever broken.  His proclivities were more natural.  The kind that enjoyed large black cocks in small white girls.  

           I moved on to my next target when target one (or was it number two) began to argue with his girlfriend about the merits of anal.  Besides I still needed to find my way to the back room.  

           10:45pm.  Two attempts. 2 failures.  My friend/co-worker texts me to meet her at another bar.  I ignore it, for the time being, so I can keep the “investigation” “balanced”.  Drunk logic.  All other attempts at this bar are unfruitful as it turns out there is a private  party in the speakeasy that night.  

           11:30pm  My car reminds me that it needs washed with the white lettering they place on the windows once you’ve been towed.

           11:39pm  My coworker, Steph, is clearly drunk.  We have a very platonic relationship.  (Mainly because she is only attracted to black men)  I sit down with her “friends” and begin small talk.  It becomes clear that none of them want to talk to me as they had already formed groups of conversation and I was an unwelcome addition, at least at first.  It was on my second drink at Boar’s Head when I saw Bethany.  She was wearing a work shirt and had her black hair in a ponytail. He laugh was a mix between a teen girl trying to get attention from a teacher and an avocado, creamy, savory, and just the right amount of salty.  She was friends with Steph and because of this sat down next to me and immediately asked me “Who the hell are you?”.

           12:30am  Bethany has found a new seat, another man’s lap.  Being a man of some pride I ignore my jealousy.  After having a few drinks, we all become more acquainted, thanks in part to Bethany forcibly inserting me into the group.  I look around and see a perfect sample, five women, four men.  I bluntly start asking people about the project (it’s just a story but what do these idiots know).  Surprisingly the reception to my inquiry went well.  The group was very open to discussing their self-pleasuring habits.  Finally some real data.  We talked about everything from how at first the step-family videos were a new and exciting take that no one had seen before.  Then it became the main way of breaking in new talent.  Then it became one of the only things that the tube sites frequently updated.  Never underestimate free.  It became a strange dilemma even Joseph Heller could be proud of.  I posed the question, why was it “hot” in the first place. The best response I got was from the man Bethany was sitting on.  The familiarity and inherent closeness you fell toward a step sibling is a balancing act and when you cross the line it’s “naughty”.  It makes being related and having a secret one in the same.  And who doesn’t like having a secret?

           Bethany’s lap mate leaves as he has to be at work early.

           Steph comes up to me and tells me that Bethany is interested.  I tell her that she, Bethany, can tell me this herself and I’ve been sitting here the whole time while she grinded on another guys dick.  Steph tells me to grow up and asks “do you want to get laid or not?”

           Outside, we’re standing by Steph’s car waiting for her “friend”.  Me and Bethany are entangled in a make-out session as intense as the situation permits. Steph is holding conversation about her “friend”, telling us he isn’t worth her time.  Yet we wait for him to show up.  Steph is having none of his shit.  Quote “Girl I’m not from around here.   I’m gonna take this city by storm.  I’m more smarter than any of these motherfuckers out here.”  I audibly laugh when I hear the last line.  Steph shoots me a look as Bethany grabs my face towards hers, smiling as our tongues entwine.  

           Bethany pulls me over to her car and I ask if she wants to go back to my place or hers.  She is indecisive so I suggest we gin into her car to think about it.  A few hours later I’m driving home.  

______________________

           When I was first moving out here I was low on funds and needed to find a cheap yet safe place to sleep and store my things. Thus I found Nate on Craigslist. He was an older man of his sixties and a former cop.  “If cops can’t be trusted then boy is our society fucked,” I remember thinking as I had decided to move in based on a handful of phone calls and emails.  He was a relatively nice man with all the stubbornness and subtle racism a former authority figure acquires in the later stages of their lives.  Daily outburst of racial slurs to no one or nothing in particular became the norm.(No ethnicity was safe)  One of the things he was stubborn about was the cleanliness of the condo.  He forced me to pay for a maid service, $45 every six weeks, I told him I didn’t want.  The rent was so cheap that I didn’t argue too much past the first time he brought it up.  The main reason I argued against it was the main stipulation he had was that I couldn’t be home when she was cleaning.  I didn’t like being told when I could or couldn’t be home but again when you’re paying half the rent you should be you go along with abnormal things.  I had forgotten that today was maid day.  

           7:16am  As I pulled up I remember to park on the right side of the street for street sweeping. I lock my doors and admire the writing on the rear window again, like a scab that hasn’t healed yet.  As I get to my door I hear what sounds like a smack and a moan.  I assume it’s just the television and walk in.  For a moment I see time slow down as I witness Nate and the maid begin to realize someone else is in the room.  The maid, a middle aged Hispanic woman, pretty and voluptuous, wearing nothing but a beige bra, is bent over the front of the couch moaning “Papi, por favor follame adain”.  Nate, in nearly flawless Spanish, responds, “¿Asi que la nina de papi es una puta?”.  Right as he finishes speaking they both look over in unison to see my drunken, stupefied face.  She screams and runs to my bathroom.  Nate, frail body but hard as a rock, is stuck between chasing her and covering himself.  I start laughing and turn to walk out.  He yells after me, “I told you not to be here”.  I shut the door as I hear Nate trying to console the “maid” in Spanish. I don’t stop laughing until I’m a few streets away.  I know I won’t have to pay for the maid service again.  As I’m driving I keep coming up with one liners that I could have said in the moment but a majority of them would have been derogatory to the “maid”.  So I resign myself to the idea that the situation was funny enough to stand on its own.

           7:45am  Three missed calls, “Nate Roommate”.  I wait for my breakfast and go over the nights events in my head.  What did I learn?  Anything useful?  The waitress sees me thinking and asks what’s on my mind.  Still a little drunk I tell her my objective of the night and how I don’t know what to take from it.  She looks down and apprehensive.  She says “hold on a sec.”  She brings me my food and sits down across from me.  She looks young, maybe twenty years old.  I ask if she’s going to get into trouble sitting down.  She tells me she took her thirty minute break.  She starts to tell me about her experience as I realize tears are forming in her eyes.  

           Two years ago her Dad had gotten remarried. Her new step-mom had a son a few years younger than her.  (She was nineteen at the time in college living at home, he was sixteen and in high school).  He seemed nice at first, helping with chores so she could study, helping her sneak out at night and she the same for him.  Then something slowly changed and he started acting differently toward her, almost sexual.  It creeped her out but after about six months nothing had happened except the feeling that he was always looking at her funny.  Then one day when their parents weren’t home he walked in on her showering, refused to leave and started touching himself.  She ran out of the shower and stayed in her room until their parents came home.  She told them everything and they grounded him.  Took his phone, computer, car, everything they could.  She was happy at first until she realized that all that meant was he was going to be stuck at home with nothing to do but be close to her. So she got inventive.  She started getting up super early to take showers, and when he figured that out she would sleep in super late and not shower.  She waited till he had to leave before she would come out of her room.  She became a sort of prisoner in her own home so as to avoid the strange smile he would give her.  One day coming back from class she walked past his room, the door being open, and saw him with a pair of her panties jacking off into them.  Appalled she gasped and he just smiled and asked if she liked what she saw.  Her parents allowed her to put a lock on her door, sent him to a shrink, and things went back to “normal”.  He even apologized to the whole family, as she refused to be alone in the same room as him.  

A few months later she had begun to letting her guard down. She would leave her door open if she was home.  She stopped completely avoiding him.  After one night of drinking she had brought her boyfriend over and they had sex.  He had stayed the night as her parents were on a weekend vacation and her step brother was supposed to be with his friends on a camping trip.  So in the morning when they were having breakfast and her step brother walked in with that same shit eating grin on his face, her stomach dropped.  Before he even said anything she knew what he had done. He had, over the past few months, been sneaking into her room, finding the best angles for filming.  Now he had a tape of her and her boyfriend that “He would show to Mom and Dad, if she didn’t do exactly what he said.”.  Her boyfriend, wasting no time or words walked up and beat the shit out of him.  She tried to stop him before he seriously hurt him but admittedly she didn’t try too hard.  She called the cops and her parents.  Now her step brother is in jail for attempted rape, blackmail, illegal wiretapping, and a few other charges.  Even though the cops to first answer the call were the first to congratulate her boyfriend for what he did, her step brother was still a minor and that makes what he did very serious in the eyes of the court.  

After a long silence, as tears are streaming down her face she, with a laugh, apologizes to me for ruining my breakfast.  I look at her and as sincerely as I can tell her she owes me no such apology.  Her thirty minutes are about up and as only a woman can she composes herself, wipes her eyes, smiles, stands up, and asks if I need any more OJ.  

As I said in the beginning, human proclivities are endless. And so are the reasons behind them. For some it’s fear, some it’ power and control, other’s get so wrapped up in the fantasy of their own making they lose touch with everyone else’s reality.  But more often than not people are unaware of the reasoning behind their feelings.  Neuroscience research is beginning to show that the subconscious mind is just as influential as the conscious mind in decision making.  And I believe that sexual urges are largely animalistic in nature, initial attraction at the very least.  Much like whenever you meet someone for the first time and your eyes meet and your pupils dilate involuntarily because you are attracted to the person you are meeting.  Whatever causes us to become aroused is some combination of love, hate, symmetry, juxtaposition, desire, hunger, emptiness, societal pressure, a need to be touched, and just a hint of salt.  We are, to some degree, victims of our own desires.