how a child is conceived.
“I can’t see through this mask”, she gasped.” Really, I can’t even feel my face. These drugs have me all stuffed up.”. Another line is cut pushed at her and she rolls her jaw. “Cameron, this is our second eightball, what are we doing? Oh my god I can’t even hold it in, it’s falling out!” It’s an even laugh and a quick upturned lip she gives him when he reaches two fingers over to slip her breast from her bra. Everyone calls her Nami but him, she is Naomi because he disdains the shortened version of her name. This is not the cheap, low rent std rated romance you usually get after the parties downtown. He is already $600 in with the balls, drinks and new jacket bought in the parking lot. They bought it from a booster who looked many, many years past meth tryouts and well into the meth jouneyman’s annual draft. He would be first picked.
No sooner than when Marisa left to score, Cameron ripped through Noami’s underwear, fileting her layers and trapping her arms in that jacket. “sheep skin, well worth it”, he murmurs nose in navel. Once his tongue flipped and flushed her out, he caught her in a bent knee shake, she cautioned him that Marisa would want some too, and that he should be ready “cause we are gonna fuck your skin off.” The hot tub has marble ledges and he kisses her thinking about Marisa and her easy, bite me eyes. Marisa and all of Africa in her hips and thighs stands at the door undressing as his cock bobs momentarily on the surface of this hot frothing whirl. ” Nami, you couldn’t wait for me huh? Nami”…. “ c’mon take all that off Marii, wait till you see Cameron’s finger skill. Seriously, he was designed this way, back in the egg. He’s a badger with that shit, wolf, hypnotist, or some shit.” Marisa glides by him in the water pinching a nipple, as Naomi smiles crookedly saying “Cami will you pass me that tray with the mirror on it, ooo, and my vibe too right there by that towel, thanks daddy, Marii do these lines then just lay back against me and relax cause he will dig…in…. it.”
The drugs go fast and inhibitions and danger slip though fingers like panties stripped off. A drunk arrives beckoned by Marisa, with more powder. He is nearly naked as he splashes in stealing kisses, tugging them against him locking their tongues in his mouth. The night is full in it’s slouched walk as the hours flash by. Cameron with his head tilted and his urges urging thinks about the word coitus as it compares to the action. Fucking versus fucked. He thinks about the sound of the porno as it assimilates with the sound of water. His mind wanders to the edge of what is permitted and what is continually denied. His chi grows under her insistent mouth. He feels oil in his hair and with that feeling more lines are cut. 4 at a time, a gram and a half vanishes. Nipples harden and each penis hangs hungry, angrily and broken by the yellow fat deposits being snorted in their livers. Cameron is romancing the straw and the energetic potential conducted in the water, bound like terror to her ass. He is romancing the balloon and it’s piercing. Cameron will never love this way but craves love this way, everyday. The father that he is to be falls away like skin cells in the rough raw sponge of debauch. The idea to freebase is more acceptable than cracking it up and they do.
Crack makes carnivores of us all. Crack paints anger in our action. Crack draws the shade on the inevitable making us unpredictable.
The women are to be eaten and dragged like bowling balls. This is true power and The drunk denies himself this reward choosing instead to offer himself in complete submission to the needs and wants of the group and their sadism. It is the primal grunts, slaps and biting that convinces him to give more.. It is the sworn committed words from Naomi when she clamps into Cameron’s hair and ears spitting, “marry me…. fuck……. Cameron…….. Cameron,.. c’mon, put that dick in me…fuck i…i do …I do!” It is this that calls Cameron’s inner gorilla dragon to it’s feet,standing 10ft tall and bulletproof. Cameron pauses only to whisper his disbelief in her ear with”go ahead hard as you want, crush it, you can’t hurt it, harder, see? you can’t hurt it”. Thickening despite this strangulation, he forces her face down onto the books and day trail surrounding his bed. “You will know me and offer me more”, he tells her as he rocks her back and forth, swings her side to side forcing her to scatter them.
Later, after they slept off a week’s worth of mutual masturbation, as that is, what sex is when the coke has tangled and knotted you up, or when the coke has pressed you into hard creases, emotionally tying you to breast and spirit, it was later that morning, some time after eros and the scares of near homicidal mishaps of the choke games played past the point of eyes rolling back and up, had left in their eyes. It was sometime after their joined multilation brought tears, hard like wool, Cameron pulls Naomi close. The need is greater now, more organic now. The need is pouring out over them in gallons, by the thousand. Cameron hear the soundtrack of falling water slightly muted by the repetition of swan dives, that their eager, young, violent, curse filled, greed of flesh, shiny ,wet like street, commits them to. When they arrive at the junction of quiet whimper and harsh hurried breath, Cameron feels the whole of him empty. He spills in an even balance thick as toothpaste. He thinks he is more Picasso than Superman. This red head with the pixie haircut has challenged him into his new found obsession with the wall and warmth endless running can bring. Sleep once again comes to maim his id , burying his ego up to neck in the recovery her pheromone brings.
It is close to 3 weeks later before Naomi, parked under his window, leans out and requests his audience without a word. When he is inside, shifting nervously in the driver’s seat next to her, she will put her feet on the dash, stir his soul with the movement of her toes and the five millions orgasms rooted in them. There is a remarkable clarity in the hazel meets cocoa storm in her eyes. He is fighting off his reaction and her unyielding seduction when she scoots the test across it timidly and defiantly. Two lines are shown and he begins searching calendar, crossing days off in reverse. Today will prove to be the rarest of times. She is vulnerable, honest and fearless all at once. A deep red, tannic concoction flows through her, affecting him to an unfolding, like a paper airplane struck by rain loses angle and structure. She is brave and still so, Cameron moves forward, toward her, as she is most beautiful as such. Cameron smiles and thinks of the God he has vowed to ignore. He is in a courtship now with his mother’s idea. He is alive and stitched to life, learning God. He is DNA mixed in earth turned miles of road. His heart will lead his mind, convinced now that love is, as he is, as they are, as she is. He thinks back to that space, by the lake. He returns thought to Naomi naked bucking on top of him, rebellious, dangerously staring over his shoulder hoping to be recognized in the horror she’d find on the faces of those highly anticipated runners, prompt at 6 am, there, by that lake, runners avoiding her eyes while invading a very private, very public dissertation on abandon, marital trust, coitus and it’s far older, far more sophisticated cousin fucking. He thinks about the New York Times, and reading it with her stretched out in that spot, by that lake, that spot that painted them abstract like tire tracks in river bed, barely a month before today. He feels himself sinking waist deep in that soil, waist deep in all that is kemet, marking them dirty, entwined, leaving them starved parasites, blind to all else. He smiles and says “let’s do it, i mean, you want to do this? yeah? okay, wow! i really wanna do it, Naomi, lets do it”