Monday, November 28, 2011

The Apartment

Here's the first prose entry. Can't tell if it's any good; I suspect it's somewhat self-indulgent, but I'm not sure. This is really a first draft, probably needs editing. Read it anyway.

I'm also convinced it'as an odd place to start showing off the story in prose mode. This section of what I'm now determined to write as a novel. This section (the next several entries) is mostly about personal and sexual relationships, but the reader hasn't read the previous sections that establish the characters and relationships in much more detail.

Disclaimers aside, I,m pleased with how it's turning out overall. In addition to writing a bunch of material that starts here, I've gone back to the beginning of the story and started converting it to prose as well, and again I'm happy with it, though I'm not sure how good it is objectively.

One thing I can say is that I'm sure I'm going to finish this thing. After 30 years of intermittent attempts at writing novels without getting past the first 50 pages, I can tell this one is going to come togther.

Anyway, enjoy.


Before I go on, I should express my appreciation for the one thing that has made all of this fun and experimentation possible: Adam’s apartment.

Purchased with the proceeds from his work as lead designer on a successful first-person shooter called “Kill-Zone,” and supported by a middling-sized trust fund, the place is a marvel - a 2200 square foot, three-bedroom penthouse, all wood floors, cathedral ceilings and recessed lighting, surrounded by a huge rooftop patio with a hot tub.

Sadly, the effect of all of this opulence is severely undermined by Adam’s frat-boy casual decor.

The conversation pit is inhabited by two of the ugliest couches ever devised and, I swear to God, one of those wagon-wheel coffee tables. The dining room furniture consists of a card table and four folding chairs. The living room contains a huge plasma-screen TV, a couple of beanbag chairs, and nothing else.

The bedrooms are somewhat easier on the eyes, if a bit minimalist. Each contains a large futon mattress placed more or less randomly on the floor, a Craigslist dresser of some kind, and just enough decor to keep the room’s inhabitant from going insane.

Not that anyone was complaining.

On the morning of, I think, the second day of the festivities, Maya and I sat at the card table, drank coffee, and reviewed the proceedings so far.

“So,” said Maya, “having fun with Danielle?” She was beaming, allaying my fears that she might harbor some degree of jealousy.

“Yeah, we’re having a great time. Not just in bed -- well, we’ve been in bed most of the time, but you know what I mean. We’ve had a blast just sitting up and talking. She’s got way more going on than I’d suspected -- all sorts of esoteric hobbies and interests, some really unique life experiences... You really should spend some time with her, get to know her better.”

Maya switched to her high-beams. “Oh, I had a long conversation with her last night, after she put you to sleep but good. She really is very sweet and very interesting.” Her eyes darted left and right conspiratorially. “And a great kisser.”

There was only one possible response to this statement.

“Guh?” I inquired.

She giggled, which I’d never seen her do before. I liked it.

“I had no idea that you … I mean, obviously it’s not a big deal to me, just a surprise. You’ve never said anything about...”

Maya giggled again. “Well, I never got around to regaling you with tales of my erotic adventures. Your stories of romantic train wrecks are just so compelling. And numerous.”

“Yeah, they’re a laugh riot, all right. So: dish. I’m intrigued and aroused.”

“There’s not much to say, really. I don’t consider myself really bi-. I don’t think I could pair bond with another woman. But really, what’s not to like about women? They’re pretty and soulful and sexy.” Maya blushed, which I’d also never seen her do. “I’ve had girlfriends with benefits a few times, and it was great. I think that’s where Danielle and I are headed.”

Another weight off my mind. “That’s great. I was starting to feel guilty that Adam and I were getting more than our share of the nookie. And the affection.”

This was all so sweet and natural and friendly and relaxed.  Why don’t more people live this way?

Maya smiled and shook her head. “If anyone’s soaking up the lion’s share of the nooky, it’s Danielle. Of course, she’s entitled. All of that pent up sexual energy - you’d think she was a Catholic School girl.”

“Heh, I just got a vision of her in one of those uniforms and I got dizzy for a second. Jesus, who knew I was susceptible to such a pedestrian fantasy? What’s next, cheerleaders?”

Danielle, coffee cup in hand, sauntered in from the kitchen (holy shit, how long had she been listening?), kissed each of us until we were thoroughly kissed, and joined us at the table.

“My ears are positively on fire,” she said. “You guys comparing notes?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, a little sheepishly. “But mostly we’ve been discussing some heretofore unknown -- to me -- aspects of Maya’s sexuality.”

“You think you’re surprised” said Danielle. “I’m 27, and I had no idea I liked girls until last week. Then again, I never really thought about guys either. I just assumed I was straight by default.”

“From asexual to bi-sexual overnight,” Maya marvelled.

Suddenly, I had a horrific thought. “Dear Penthouse Forum, I never though something like this could happen to me...”

This was all a little too good. There was another shoe out there, and it could drop at any moment.

“You know,” Danielle leered at Maya, “we never did finish what we started yesterday.”


I stood up a little too hastily. “That is a damn shame. You guys have fun. I’m going to take a walk.”

I retrieved my sweater from the second ugliest couch ever constructed (first place went to its companion, which could induce migraines and epileptic seizures). Before heading for the door, I turned to see Danielle leading Maya by the hand to the nearest bedroom. Very cute.

They saw me, stopped in their tracks, and exchanged meaningful glances. Maya extended her arm to me.

This could be dangerous, I thought. That other shoe had grown from a size 13 to something an Old Woman and too many children could live in.

Fuck the other shoe. I took Maya’s hand, and let her take me wherever she cared to lead me.

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