MUZAK

The rain sounded like muzak to Jon, as the fat drops hit the ground, against him, as he squatted next to Anna’s grave. Jon wasn’t sure if it was just his legs that had finally gave out or that the grief he felt every time he was here take over as he fell to his knees. Did matter? The answer was simple enough. And it was no.

Nobody understood why he still came here as much as he did. Anna having been gone over a year now. At first all of Jon’s friends were touched by his devotion to his late wife. But as the days and weeks and months passed by they failed to understand, thought it was unhealthy for him to keep going there -almost everyday. They tried to intervene, his friends. An intervention if you must. But when that failed Jon’s friends started to fall to the way side. Slowly at first, but once the first few were gone it was like a wave. All of them slipping away out to the proverbial see that was and is humanity.

But what Jon’s friends failed to understand was how much he had lost. It wasn’t just a wife but more of a wife, a lover, a best friend, and companion. Some one that was there when he went to bed and was there when he awoke. His life force.

The rain fell harder. Rolled off Anna’s head stone in little streams, plastered Jon’s hair to his head like some strange matted head dress. But he failed to see any of it; failed to feel any of it. All that was there was grief.

Tears filled Jon’s eyes again, as they did a hundred times a day. But like Anna, are lost when they start to flow down his cheeks. The rain, like life did with Anna, gobbling them up, erasing them from the world.

Jon took a deep breath that came out a loud sob as he sat up straight with as if he had a sense of urgency. Took another deep breath. And reached into his coat pocket.

The small, silver plated revolver (the same one that he bought Anna for protection when he was away. The same one that she took her life with) felt odd in his hand; felt heavy. The last time he had it in his hand was the day he bought it. The last time Jon had actually laid his eyes in it before today was when Carl had put it in the shoe box where he and Anna had kept it back in the closet where it stayed these long months. Jon had almost forgotten about it until he chanced by it. Deciding that maybe it was time to take his friends’ advice. To maybe start to move on. But as he was cleaning out the closet he shared with Anna of her clothes, fate had brought it all back.

Jon saw it as a sign.

The hammer clicked as it locked in place and Jon slowly brought it to bare at the side of his head.

A muffled POP rang out.

Becoming one with the surrounding muzak of life.
 

COPYRIGHTED: PAUL DABROWSKI 2012

Thanks For The Flowers (Some Explicit Sex)

Sandy’s pussy squirted when she came; her juices flowed down the sides of her legs as Guy filled her with his hard cock. She moaned and grunted with his every thrust. Digging her nails into his back leaving long red lines. Some drawing blood. He raised up, pushing himself up on to his hands straining his forearm muscles as Sandy wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles, afraid he might get away. But she had no reasons to worry. Guy having no intentions of trying to get away. Only to push deeper inside her.

Sandy was beginning to think that she was destined to be the other woman for the rest of her life as she went to answer the door buzzer; Guy standing holding flowers -lilies, her favorite- on the other side looking strange through the fish-eyed lens of the door’s peephole. She leaned her head against the door, unsure of what to do. Her mind said don’t answer, that it would only bring her pain and heartbreak -again; her heart wouldn’t let her though.

God he looked good, she thought.

A thousand questions ran through her head: Why was he here? How the hell did he find me? Was he still married? Excreta. Excreta.

The buzzer sounded a second time, then a knock. He was about to give up. Move away, move on. Sandy could hear the desperation in his hand as it banged gently against the door. It was now or never. Did she answer and go back down that road, or does she let him leave? And in doing so finally move on with her own life?

“Don’t go,” she said to slowly a retreating figure in the hallway.

“I was afraid you…”

“Afraid of what? I wasn’t home?” She giggled, she couldn’t help herself. She felt giddy standing there in the doorway talking to her life’s one great love. Why was it that she couldn’t find someone without all the access baggage? “Or were you afraid that I didn’t want to see you? Or perhaps that I moved on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. I was just… afraid. We didn’t leave things well the last time we saw each other.”

Sandy could remember the last time like it was yesterday, the pain still fresh. The cheap airport motel he rented; how itchy the course bed sheets felt on her back as they kissed. Guy’s hand moving across her breasts, down her stomach, in-between her legs. The thought of that almost took her breath away as she stood there. But then she remembered how it all ended: the tears, the broken promises. The sweet and tender apologizes. That mad dash from the room into a rainy night like some bad ending to a pulp novel. Hard to believe it had been five years. He had a fiancé then. Now, she assumed, wife. She moved, physically. Twice. Tried to move on mentally. And when that didn’t work tried to fuck him out of her system with countless guys, girls. Whoever. And after a while it seemed to work. She didn’t think about him (as much), and when she did the pain wasn’t as bad. But now here he was. Standing in front of her. A memory made flesh. But was it the angle version she had of Guy or the devil? Did matter?

No. It didn’t

“Well, come on in.” Sandy opened the door all the way and stepped aside so he could enter. “We have a lot to catch up on.” That familiar sent as he walked by; the tingling her body made as his hand brushed against her arm. Sandy promised herself she’d be good. But she knew deep down it was for naught. “Are you still married?”

“Ah, the same old Sandy.”

“What? I think it’s a fair question.” The door shut harder that she intended, surprising not only her, but Guy. She leaned against the door, hands behind her back to keep them in check incase they decided to have a mind of their own.

Guy laughed. “I guess it is.” He sighed deeply. “So, yes, I’m still married. But truth be told, it’s a marriage of conveyance not of passion.” Guy quickly added. “I brought you flowers. Are lilies still your favorite?”

Sandy’s primal urge seemed to take over, the flowers fell to the floor and she was on him, pulling his lips to hers forcefully before she even knew that she had. Her other hand tore open his shirt, scratched at his chest, squeezed his nipples. Then Sandy dragged her nails down his stomach. She could feel his hardness through his jeans. Sandy pulled her lips from his; her hand from the back of his neck to concentrate on undoing his pants. Falling to her knees as she yanked them down. Guy gasped as Sandy clenched his cock in her hand, slowly stroking it as she looked at him greedily. Then she took him into her mouth. He almost exploded then and there as he grabbed onto the sides of her head, forcing her to slow. But then she would work her tongue around his shaft. Guy shuttered as he released into her mouth. It had been so long since he’d been this excited.

Sandy looked so young as she gazed up at him, gently kissing the head of his cock. “Now that we’ve had the appetizer, I think it’s time we move to the bedroom for the main course.”

Sandy took Guy on a carnal ride of all the things she had learned over the years of trying to forget him. The time of him being more knowledgeable of pleasures of the body were a thing of the past. And now that he had a taste of it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Guy fell next to her spent, covered in sweat and bodily secretions one could only get through sex. “God…damn…” he said, breathlessly. “I don’t remember it…quite like…that.”

Sandy was silent for a moment, catching her own breath. Then she said: “Yeah, well, I’ve learned a thing or too since you’ve been gone.”

Sandy got out of bed, and walked naked too the bathroom. Another thing Guy saw that was new. The Sandy before -his Sandy back when they were an under cover item- would never had dome that. She was more of the cover up after sex type of girl, but this version of the girl he knew was much improved. And something he was going enjoy keeping around instead of the one night stand as he intentioned. And Guy was about too say as much -whatever he needed too say to get her back, when Sandy called out from the other room:

“You know, Guy, I hate too a bitch, but I think you should go. You know it goes: Places to go, people too see. But, hey, thanks for flowers.”

Copyrighted: Paul Dabrowski 03/21/2011