Take Another Look

{August 31, 2009}   trading one prison for another

There was nothing but a bar of soap in the bathroom, a towel in the cupboard. In the main room was a single chessboard on a desk and a queen size bed. As for the kitchen, there was only one dish set. There was no clutter because there could be no clutter. A sense of existential awareness seemed to glow from the bare simplicity of the place. There were  only a few books and magazines, and they all had to do with chess. On closer inspection, the cover of the magazine was a picture of the person who lived there, caught unaware, looking swiftly repentant and pensive with his attention-getting long eyelashes.

For people living in a halfway house, the ability to pick up and go without leaving anything behind is taken very seriously. But the inability to own anything, collect anything, or leave anything of himself behind except space showed great discipline as well as an understanding of the last recesses of loneliness. Simplicity was something Americans no longer understood, and for this reason it was not in dispute that the transport here was not from this country.

The lack of ownership meant material comforts don’t matter, and that’s often a lot harder for a man to swallow then for a woman since men are taught that it’s more acceptable for them to show a desire for wealth, because wealth will buy them pussy. It’s not often a clot of women get together to brag about what they want to do if they win their case or get the promotion, along with that extra hundred grand bonus. It’s much more common for one women to downgrade how rich she is in fear of the others feeling like they don’t have enough. But this man was a man of few goals, goals he took incredibly seriously. Everything else could go, was what the lack of furniture said.

Living in this place, in the position he was in, he could have all the pussy he wanted.

Just not the one he needed right now.

Beautiful men and women came crawling at him, desperate for one more hit, and they offered up every dirty trick in the book. They would do anything to their body’s. For somebody with the discipline of owning nothing, the others lack of boundaries suited the person well, for the moment. But then what was there left to want later? No, this guy needed his special cock tease back. She had gone from slowly discovering her own desires, such a beautiful thing, to letting him progress someplace, to nothing. And almost nobody had the bravado to put up a brick wall in front of him. He had enough manpower to blast through more than a brick wall, but he would never do that. What bothered him was what bothered a cop who could no longer get a warrant out on a person he believed needed catching.

He couldn’t even get her in there with fast talk, the way he used to be able to run into her on the street, talk her into getting into a taxi, and off it was. The more she felt fear, the less she was in control, the more it turned him on. Now she wouldn’t even let him do the things she used to enjoy. The sweet, lingering jolts of electricity he passed on with his gracefully fast tongue and light, tender touch. That used to be more than enough. He wanted to curse himself for whatever possessed her to resist. He was more than used to getting what he wanted because people did not turn him down. They didn’t turn him down because he overpowered them or because he was dirty, because he wasn’t. They didn’t turn him down because they genuinely would do anything to please him because he was so desirable to be around.

The only trace of her was on his phone. But now she stayed away from him was because she, too, found him desirable to be around. She didn’t want to be put in situations where doing the right thing felt like avoiding impunity.

His possy followed him around like the pied-piper, but they also disappeared when he wanted, as if he’d placed an invisible whistle call.

The closet was the most telling. Each shirt in there looked hand-pressed. The jeans were all expensive brand names, and they too looked like they had been carefully ironed or even dry cleaned. They smelled of fresh laundry and powerful cologne.

It was no surprise that the chess he excelled at was the five minute blitz kind. He had the fasted hands in the state, maybe in the country. He’d learned from the finest. He was talent personified, and that was part of why he didn’t have the whole package. He didn’t know how to make a web page. He only could sell himself short-term. He could find people who would put up money for him at events, but he had too much pride for that. He knew people who would vouch for his teaching creds, but when they asked too many questions about his past, he had to dodge them, no matter his natural ability with children, which was astounding. He’d make a great parent, but the chance that he’d ever be a parent was close to nil with the life style he chose.

He didn’t feel like he was choosing his own prison. He was a bird who kept running against a glass sky every time he tried to go higher and he couldn’t know why. His own innocence prevented him from believing the corruption he had experienced. His mind was too powerful to stay away from the light.


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