THE PORNO JOURNALIST

        3 AM.

The doorbell rang once.

Twice.

There was a short knock.

Thrice.

I finally gathered enough strength to stand and stumbled my way to it. The soundbar was bleeding When Doves Cry in the living room. I opened the door. She was wearing stilettos and a trench coat, and not much more underneath as I’d soon find out. Behind her stood the doorman.

“Sorry, Teddy… The girl can be very mean when she doesn’t get her way… I couldn’t say no to her,” he smiled.

“So can I when I don’t sleep, Bobby…”

The vamp walked past me and into the apartment.

“I’ll do better next time. How are you doing? How’s the cut healin’?” he asked.

“Fucking Disneyland in there, Bobby…” I replied, showing inside.

“With this kind of visitors at night, I’d say it is…” he smiled.

“Thanks for showin’ her up, Bobby.”

He got the message and left. I turned to her.

“It’s 3AM.”

“Is that the hello I get?”

“It’s a 3AM-hello…”

“Noting like the ones you got me used to... And this was the only chance I got. Alex took his mother to the hospital.”

“Who the fuck is Alex?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Shit… A boyfriend. What the hell do you need one for? Who has a fucking boyfriend in this day and age?”

“Stability… I don’t know… Some shit people say when they start a relationship…” she smiled.

“What do you want from me… besides the obvious?”

“Sex the only reason why I can come ‘round for?”

“What else is there? Wanna gossip? That’s what your lady-friends are for. That and borrowing tampons… And Trojans shall the need arise… One can only hope you’re sweating protected.”

“I quit my job,” she said.

“Sure they didn’t fire you?”

“What the fuck?! You think I could ever get fired looking like this?” she asked. “The H.R. manager adored me!”

“Did you blow him?”

“So you think I’m a whore? What an asshole!”

“Did you?” I asked again.

“No! Why would you got straight to blowing him?”

“You kinda make every cock-owner want to have it turgid between your lips.”

“Oh, so it was a compliment…”

“So no more breaking news? No more prime fucking time? No more TV anchor on Insta?”

“Fuck, no. It was becoming excruciating… and boring.”

“What are you gonna do for money? Strip?”

“So again, I am a slut to you!”

“Well, what are you gonna do?”

“Gonna get back to dancing.”

“So stripping it is.”

“Contemporary dance, you asshole!” she smiled, standing up. “Where the hell is all the booze?!” she asked, looking behind the bar. She turned and her eyes fell on the bandages on my neck. “What the fuck is that?” 

“The booze is out. The guys threw it out. No booze. Zero around the premises. Apparently I can’t be trusted around it. Apparently I have a drinking problem…”

Three hours later, her body was losing the heat of the act on mine, sweating through the crimson bedroom lights.

“You’re pretty stupid, you know that?” she enticed, biting my already-bleeding lips. “A great lay, but stupid… How the fuck could you do that shit? And for what? No fucking reason at all. Just suppositions. Suppositions about a whore and her dirty fucking deeds… Or lack of. Pretty sure there ain’t anythin’ goin’ on with that old bum. Walking ain't the same as fucking,” she preached, teeth through the side of my neck.

“One more time, for the cheap seats! I didn’t try to kill myself!” I said, fingers through her hair.

“Yeah, so you say… But scotch, Xanax and Advil sank with the bucket looks like it.”

“I was trying to fall asleep… And the Advil was for a gut-wrenching headache.”

“She is a whore, you know, don’t you?”

“You just said she ain’t fucking that guy!”

“I said I don’t know. But she sure is a whore. She is cheating on her husband with you,” she said, flaming her cigarette.

“She’s not a whore for that. That’s just… upgrading the merchandise,” I said. “Like you did tonight.”

She smiled and bit my chest.

“You really need to stop drinking for a while… And you really need to rest.”

“Gonna live while I'm alive, I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

“Bon Jovi?”

“You’re good!”

“Please rest. And get over her. You need to get over her before it’s too late,” she said.

“But if 6’ 2” blondes run naked up in heaven I'll be sure to be on time.”

“Good!” she smiled. “Any other straw-head but her!”

“Hey, be nice to straw-heads… They know the best tricks!” I mirrored.

“She’s a fucking relict… 46! Fuck. The woman’s 46 and fucking a guy half her age!”

“She’s good, huh?” I smiled.

“She’s good, huh?“ she repeated. “Bitch almost kills you… And that’s what you say about her… Good, huh?”

“Well, she’s hot.”

“She’s a whore! A whore that almost put you six feet under! Get your shit together before it’s too late! And what the hell?! I thought you were incapable of falling in love! What the hell is so special about her? What makes her so damn special that you’d actually care so much about her?”

“I don’t know… She knows the best sex - “

Her nails scratched my chest the next second, white-hot marks is their tracks.

“ - and she’s beautiful. She really is. And smart, you know? You can really talk to her. And the fucking music she knows… And movies… She lived through the 80s for fuck’s sake. How could the Bieber-generation ever beat that? She’s one of the very few women you don’t want out of the house in the morning.”

“Still, she’s just a woman. Truth is she fucked you up. You’re not writing anymore. And you’re on the edge of fucking depression… All because of her. Don’t fuck your life up for her,” she replied. “By the way, Mrs. Fischer died yesterday.”

“Our History teacher? Fuck.”

“Yeah.. I always liked her.”

“Yeah, me too… Though she always said I’m gonna end up in jail for escort-services… Or a millionaire. But she mostly played the first card…” I said, fingers down her spine.

“And she was right. You would be in jail if you’d charge as a man-whore. A bitch would eventually get angry and turn you in,” she smiled.

“You think?”

“She asked us what we wanted to do in life, remember? I said I wanted to be a dancer and you said you wanted to be a writer. Fuck if we didn’t get it right back in the fifth grade,” she smiled.