She asked for a cigarette, and I replied no. You see, at the time, I was just plain sick of people asking for cigarettes, so I had a no-bumming policy, on record. So she got a little frustrated with me for a second, in that pouty way, but then asked if she could buy one off me. Since she was serious, I accepted, and gave her a cig. And then I went back to my Dell laptop and started working on the next commercial.
I work in advertising and you may have seen one of my commercials. I don’t work on them alone necessarily, but I roughly sketch them out. One that I have made is one of those meta-commercial things. Where it shows a family in front of the TV. On the TV is another commercial, and the guy talking about--I forget which brand--some soda or something. He steps out of the TV-within-a-TV and this, of course, delights the family. And then delivers his lines, something like, are you bored of the regular old drinks? Try the new—I still can’t remember—X brand. It’s refreshing and will liven up the show. Etc. You get the idea. I’m sort of the guy who just comes up with the story and then other people flesh it out.
Well, the next time I saw my Russian ex, she came up and just started talking to me. Her name was Anna, Anna Gorbechav. She was from Georgia, had left at age 17, to come be a model in the good old US. She was a very intelligent and witty woman when I first met her. She always joked about the Model-diet and how she didn’t do such a good job at it. Her body was more sexy than twig-thin. She also had an interesting vibe about her too, like she fully understood you.
Which is interesting in itself. Because I’m from your typical southern US state. Conservative South Carolina. I broke out of that hell hole, though, to get a degree in Media Studies at U of Southern Cali. And the life out here in Hollywood, man. Way different. It was kind of a shock when guys were openly smoking weed on the street and selling. In high school, if I smoked herb, you did it near the swamps and oaks. Which if you haven’t smoked in a swamp, you’re missing out. The moss is literally and figuratively dancing. And a cool breeze is gingerly on your skin. Anyways, I cut out the weed mid-way through college. I had to focus on my studies just like most kids.
Out here in LA, people’s idea of getting stoned is watching a movie and hitting 7-Eleven. Which just gets dull, if you ask me. I prefer not spacing out to a movie. I notice a lot more things and things really do make more sense. But it was weird to see just anybody hanging out, the cops practically hurting their necks to look the other way. That is of course if they are white. If you’re black, you don’t give them an excuse, you know.
So, anyway, I took Anna out on our first date to the movies. We watched some weird Romantic Comedy. She likes them. I’m your typical guy—explosions and justice and guys in capes. But every once and a while I’ll watch a Rom-com. I remember that Anna was especially charming during the movie. I’m more of your mild-mannered audience member. I laugh, sure. And follow the plot. But Anna was looking at me and looking at the movie. Laughing out loud, yelling at the screen. It was like she really wasn’t shy about her feelings in the dark room with all us theater-people. And the light would flicker on her as she looked at me, and I just wanted to kiss her right then and there. But protocol says, not on the first date.
I’ve never been smooth with women. But I’ve never been an outright jerk. A few girlfriends in the past said I was a good lover, but they never really fought for me. Which I don’t think women understand. That even if you don’t really love them, if you break up with them, you wish they would fight for your love. No, they get the picture real fast and move on pretty quickly. So I’ve had dry spells, if you will. I was always conflicted with the idea of love. So I’m the ripe old age of 30 and no wedding band. And it can be so hard for a guy to get a girl these days. I wish they knew. And it really sucks now, because Anna left me. We had a really good thing going. Almost a team. And I was getting kind of serious.
Your typical day, since I really don’t have to be in the office much, I wake up late. Have my coffee with Anna at Starbucks. She would meet me every late-morning. Like clockwork. She didn’t have to work every day, mostly weekend and evenings. And we were thinking about moving in with each other at some point, but found we were actually pretty happy just having separate places. It didn’t complicate things. But I was really enjoying the sex every day and then going back to my own bed. So typically it was sex from like midnight till 4 or 5. And it was Eden, bliss, you know, just pure passion. And very tender most of the time. She had a little cherry tattoo on her inner thigh, as if you hit the Jackpot if you got to see it.
The sex life was good. Really didn’t argue all that much. I think a few times it got weird. I mean I’m handsome, but just on the shorter side. And she’s a good 5 foot 10 inches, not in heels. So at times, it was awkward when I showed up at her modeling shows. I could tell the gay guys were looking at me, as well as the other models. Not all models are friendly like Anna. They knew I had some pockets, but not the deepest ones in the room. So I think there may have been times where Anna had to exaggerate my role in my business, to deepen my pockets. Though she never brought it up to me.
I think the beginning of the end of our relationship, if I can figure it out, was when she saw one of my commercials, and thought it was stupid. She had a very critical eye for it, for some reason. This particular commercial was the typical kind. I had made it up in like 5 minutes, in a hurry, to reach deadline. It was about a car that flies. It’s driving around European roads really fast. The voice-over is describing the car, etc. And then the road gets really straight and sort of just ends, with construction. But the car, some luxury sports car, sort of does an Evel-Knievel type thing, and lands and turns around really quickly--with the faceless stunt driver in the car, and then your usual info at the bottom of the screen. She asked me if I’d ever been to Europe. When I replied I hadn’t, you could see the process of making me a rube actually unfold on her face. Like she needed to look away. Ever since then, I really stayed quiet about my work.
That was about two months ago. And gradually, the sex just wasn’t happening as often. I was a bit alarmed after a while. And wanted to talk about why she wasn’t interested in things. She became Busy. That certainly spelled the end. And while she never really told me anything, I felt completely rejected. I was ready to buy us tickets to fly to St. Petersburg to visit her native country. I could also tell she was beginning to miss her family there. We didn’t talk that much about our families. But she alluded to how poor her family was, yet how she missed them. I hadn’t taken her to see my parents, because they were busy. And, you know, I had a job as well. So things were complicated on visiting families. But here I thought this was the perfect way to expand my horizons and she could visit her parents. She told me that her family moved to St. Petersburg after she left, and that the many times she had visited, she had real mixed feelings. That there was a lot of squalor, yet huge domes and cathedrals and such. And it was beautiful in that Russian way.
So it’s about 9pm now. I’m in my two bedroom apartment. And I’m going, well, fucking nuts. I really want to call her. But it’s useless. She ended it and it was final. And I know it’s really kind of terrible, because I’ve had relationships that were way deeper. I recognize, looking back, that it was only about sex and I don’t know why it was. Anna just seemed so put together. She never complained to me about problems with her job or feelings too much. I would have listened. I mean, I have a few luggage bags next to my bed, if you will. No one’s dying, though. It’s just I get so lonely. Not desperate and needy or anything. Hollow. Well, I never really told her about my lonely feelings because she never seemed to be lonely herself. And the last time I went by the agency with flowers and I was told I couldn’t see her. I didn’t make a racket or anything, but I asked the lady at the desk, why? It was blank news, bureaucratic and all. And I looked at a side table and there were all these flowers and chocolates, with tags for different names. And sure enough, one had Anna on it. And it was done.
I am online right this minute at a website called Pornhub. It’s a free porn site. And since Anna has ended it, I’ve grown quite aware of how porn has changed. For one, there’s a lot of amateur college based ones, that look very real. And I suspect that they actually pay college kids to make porn. Which I have to admit is pretty fucking hot. And I’m not the biggest voyeur in the world, but I used to watch a lot of porn back in the 90s. Only then it was VHS and there were names. After I was having sex on a regular basis with real women, I cut out the porn habit. It’s better to not have the secret of porn when dating. Honesty comes first. And most women don’t like porn. Sure as hell better believe that Anna wouldn’t have approved. We talked a little about it once.
She felt it was disgusting, because she was always getting hit on by guys to do porn, or be a stripper. Guys would boldly want to give her money for sex. It happened a lot to her. And while she knew she could make a lot of money that way, even seeing a guy act like that was just plain disgusting. So the thought of her boyfriend and porn together was out of the question. But it’s been 3 weeks. I caved into the porn the night after the agency. I’m doing like strong search engine work. Looking up Milf, Big Boobs, Softcore, etc. You see, I used to really like softcore porn. It’s a strange genre. You don’t really see any of the nether regions, but you do see the positions. And there’s something really beautiful about it. Something eerily beautiful about a naked woman on top or man behind, etc. Sometimes you’re just in the mood for seeing only the nudity, without the thump-thump action. It’s even interesting when you can tell that she’s giving oral sex, but they actually don’t show it. Just allude to it. And in softcore, there is always playing up the emotion more, trying to be vivid about the bliss. Unlike some hardcore where they look bored and just talk while they’re having sex. Well, anyways, after giving up on Anna and watching a few softcore scenes, I really am feeling desperate now. Like a dark, dark desperation. It’s Friday night. I don’t really have any more friends. After spending all my free time with Anna, I really am alone.
While I would have never done this, say, a few years ago, I have often heard of guys going to the Escort section on certain websites. At the very least, I’ll just see what they were talking about. So I go to the Backpage website. And there is a list a mile long of girls in Hollywood and LA area. So I just go around and search. I can tell some of the photos aren’t real, but others do look real. I really am not clear on any of the language, so if I want adventure, I’m just going to have to call a number and see what happens.
So I click on one ad. It describes a few different girls and says the price. And gives the telephone number. Now I understand this is illegal and dangerous, but I’m not in the mood to really try anything else. It’s really kinda weird. So I call.
“Hello.” It’s a woman with an unrecognizable accent.
“Uh.”
“This your first time?”
“Yes.”
“It’s 200 for the hour.”
“Ok.”
“Where do you live?”
I tell her my address.
“Be there in 30 minutes.”
Now, I’m like holy shit. What have I got myself into? So I go look in the mirror. I see a few gray hairs and a few lines I hadn’t noticed. Splash a little water on my face. There is some woman out there and she is coming over and it is really exciting, I admit. It’s pretty pathetic, I know. But I think I’m going to have sex. I start to imagine all these different positions. Stuff Anna wouldn’t do, but I’d seen in the X-rated movies. See, since Anna was so tall, and though I am strong, I could never do the standing lift position, which looked really sexy. And she never really wanted to do doggie-style. Only a couple of times did we do it. But I didn’t really fight it because she was just too beautiful to look in the eyes and face.
I actually do a little cleaning up. Clothes that were on the floor are put into closets. Anna could always tell I was a little on the slobby side, which is why I always went to her place, which was spotless. And after we broke up, I became a full-fledged slob. You just don’t care after a while. So I throw the empty pizza boxes into garbage bags and take them to the garbage cans. A strange thing, I know, but it does seem appropriate for some reason. I mean if the place looks bad, what if she doesn’t want to do it? So I come back in, check my wallet. I was paid two days ago and had plenty of cash. I don’t normally have more than two hundred on me, but, for some reason, I thought I might need more, in case I go on a date or something.
So I wait. I step out onto my balcony that overlooks the parking lot. I’m antsy to see if I can see her pull up. I start chain-smoking and the butts start piling up. There are no police around. The sound of an ambulance gives the Doppler effect off in the distance. And this is all so vivid right here. Right now. And I look at my Rolex and it’s been about 40 minutes. And there is no one in the lot. A stray black cat stalks by the dumpster. And a few joggers go by, with tight shorts on. What is possessing me? It almost feels natural. And the good old prospect of sex is making me salivate just a little. God, no one can know about this. It will be one time. And that’s it. What about condoms? I have a few. Will we have as much sex in the hour as we can? How’s this work? She could literally just take my money and walk away. Is that how they all work? I’m not sure.
And as I notice it’s going on an hour since I called, I think about maybe calling again. But then there’s a knock on the door.
Fuck, she’s here. I look through the peephole and a shadow is outside. The light that shines on guests is broken. She knocks again, the door rubbing up against my head. So I open and she comes in. She is shorter than me, at about 5 foot 1. She is in jeans and heels, with big cleavage showing through her black top. While chewing gum, she scans my apartment.
“Hola.” She is smiling distantly, eyes vague and gray. She is sexy, in the way that she doesn’t care if she’s sexy or not. She looks young, though. Like early 20s. Maybe 21.
“Hi, I don’t speak Spanish.”
“That’s ok. This your first time?” Her accent chops it up. And her voice is deep and froggy.
“Yes, you’re not a cop, are you?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. Uhm, do you want to sit down? You’re sexy, by the way.”
“Gracias.” She checks her phone. She quickly texts something. Then she locks the door.
“Where are you from?”
“Cuba,” she says. “This place is nice. Where’s your bathroom?”
I point her through the living area to the bathroom. She shuts the door. Very odd.
I take out the 200. She comes out, sees me holding the money, comes over and asks if this is for her. I say yes. She says to get comfortable, and starts taking off her jeans in a matter-of-fact way, chewing that gum. Then she takes off her top, so that she is all pink bra and black thong. And despite my ideas on anything, she is turning me right on. And we do it.
After she leaves, it’s maybe been 20 minutes. I check myself, shower, and order a pizza. When the pizza girl shows up, I pay her. And then I sit on the sofa, eat my pizza, and see what’s on TV.
