Jim, Pam and The Abyss

A Cosmic Mating: As his cue came up, Jim Morrison caught her eye. Pamela raised her sight from her Vanilla Coke, sipping it intertmitently. As Jim walked off the stage at the end of the set, she was waiting for him with a beer at the club stairs. “I think I love you,” Morrison said. She asked “what happened here?” touching the side of his face where he still had some cuts from the debacle of the biker bar. “Critics,” he joked: “What’s your name?” “Pam,” she replied. She was aching for a way out and shared with Jim a baggie of mushrooms. They woke up the next morning feeling raw and vulnerable. “Do you think I like being promiscuous? I love you!” Pam blurted out. Jim knew she meant it and realized she wasn’t interested in looking back to her Orange County adventures. Jim caressed her hair with his trembling hands while she laid enthralled with closed eyes. Pamela laughed, amused at Jim’s declaration ‘I’ll give you a fancy place, silk clothes and diamonds!’ and kissed his half-open mouth. Jim knew he had found his cosmic mate, and didn’t want to lose her. ‘You are not my groupie,’ said Jim in a sudden serious tone, ‘you are my girl. I’d lose myself completely in your mouth, baby, your mouth is so pure.’ Her body shook up at hearing all his poetic words. Her fingers, so softly tactile, explored his body, making his brain explode with an unknown, inviolable pleasure. He kissed her possesively. She tasted like Vanilla Coke and candy. ‘I wanted to hold you in my arms since you laid your eyes on me at the London Fog,’ she confessed, transfixed at the memory. ‘Some idiots told me you were a floozy… I didn’t believe them, they could never see through you,’ he gently revealed. She sighed: ‘Did you ask for my dating historial, Jim?’ He tilted his head galllantly: ‘I didn’t ask anyone, you know how those guys are, braggarts or losers… you are an angel, you smell like Paradise and your eyes are lavender flowers.’ She smiled, submerged in a new placidity, marveled at his poetic declamations. Her eyes were glazing over and he made love to her like an eternal promise. Her frantic strawberry tongue provoked his flowing of sweat, thick drops burning her hair and dampening her petal-rose breasts. Jim became Pamela’s protector, drowning in a sea of interminable desire. As all the true love stories, Jim Morrison’s unique relationship with Pam Courson was utterly misunderstood. Some insiders thought Morrison was lost, at the mercy of the mentally depressed Pam, but they were dead wrong. Jim chose Love and married Pam. Jim Morrison said that Love was the answer. — “The Last Stage” (2008) by Jim Cherry