Bored and Naked
Reyna woke up ten minutes after noon. She felt wispy like blackish gray cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Chronically imbalanced life. Worn thin from being a manhandled skiff thrown by waves while attempting the sea passage around the Aleutians. Most mornings she woke up and ignored the world. She felt her dry cunt with her fingers. She took a few hits of pot, set the pipe back on the night stand, opened up her computer, leaned her now spinning head onto her left elbow and began watching Youtube. Hooked like a halibut on the pike. Stuck the metal tip through her fleshy underbelly, where her bony elbows rub against the last couple ribs. For hours she lay in this fetal position on her side, a female version of the gigantic stoned Buddha, red eyes glued to the flashing screen. The Twat family, that was who she was watching. They lived in beautiful Calabasas. Large house. Two little whining dogs. Supposedly they were living their, “normal” lives. Their normal made Reyna giggle with glee and flap her penguin flippers. They are so stuuuuupid.
Three episodes in she could take no more. Nothing’s ever resolved in these damn television programs. Reyna was hanging on the same cliff at the end of the third episode as she was at the first. This isn’t fair, she complained, I always think the next episode will be the one where I understand everything. Then they introduce something new, and…grrrr…nope nope. I’m onto them. They’re toying with my head. I’m done with this show. I don’t need it.
She slammed her laptop closed. Shower time. She stood up from bed, and made her first pit stop in front of the tall standing mirror leaned up against the mahogany dresser with six drawers. She gazed curiously at her own naked body, tilting her head from side to side. All the sleep helps, she thought poking her stomach. It felt like pizza dough. I look shiny as the Mercedes after going through Walt’s Wash on 64th. Ain’t nobody fresh as me.
She slipped out her bedroom door, and teetered down the hall towards the bathroom. No one else was home. Her roommates were already at work. Had been at work for hours.
A month ago Reyna’s asshole boyfriend dumped her. For a moment he returned to memory as she stepped out of white bath slippers and placed the pads of her feet on the cold ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor. That happened sometimes. For no apparent reason she’d just remember it painfully as periodic stomach cramps. The bastard had discarded her like outdated cherry pie on the discount rack at Ralph’s. The rack located next to the stinky bathrooms. Pompeii erupted in her tummy.
Reyna reached her hand around the curtain and turned the right nozzle, the silver one with a big “H”. A thick stream of water hissed from the metal bath tub faucet. She pulled up the lever in-between the “H” and “C” nobs. The thick stream ceased to flow. The pipe’s behind the plaster walls coughed and choked as two old smokers with thick white mustaches sat down over a checker’s board outside an old beach cafe. Water rained downwards from the shower head, bouncing off the white curved floor of the tub. Reyna dangled her palm under the spray gauging the temperature. She adjusted the “H” and “C” accordingly. When it felt to her liking she slipped off her robe and planted the pads of her feet into the tub.
The hot water eased into her head like a massage. The massaging hands moved down onto her neck and shoulders, then onto the middle of her back, rubbing out giant clenched fists of tension. Hands of Herculues. The hands moved lower, caressing the cheeks of her ass, then her hamstrings and calves. Reyna turned around in a half circle to face the shower, water now falling against her face, then splattering her collarbone. She lifted her head so the hands scratched under her chin and neck, making her grin with pleasure like a house cat. She stepped back, the spray ricocheting off her breasts one at a time. She leaned back. The water hit her stomach, then down to her thighs. She let it linger between her legs. Her hand, always with that mind of it’s own, slipped south and started massaging the skin above her quim. Gently her fingers moved in circles with the warm water’s assistance. They were a person dancing alone underneath a remote waterfall in northern Thailand.
The fingers acted again, slipping between her legs, searching hungrily for the mouth of her quim, passionately swimming in cricles around the pool where the waterfall fell.
“Reyna!” someone’s shouting voice broke her trance. It came from the hallway. “Is that you in the shower Reyna? What are you still doing at home? It’s two pm!” Mother? What the hell’s she doing home. Reyna brushed the hair from her face and didn’t bother to answer.
“What the fuck, Mom? Yes, it’s me. Let me finish.”
She snatched the soap bar from it’s dish and rubbed it against her arms, then breasts, then did circles over her stomach, her thighs and ass cheeks. She bent at the knees in order to scrub soap on her ankles, calves and feet. Soaping the back was difficult. It made her think of him again. He’d made that problem simple. She’d forgotten all those things he’d made easier.
She wasn’t sure she ever properly cleaned her back anymore. She strained to reach around, first with her right arm, rubbing the bar of soap up and down in awkward motions, then around with the left arm doing the same. She returned the bar to it’s shelf, did quick circles under the water as it splashed soap suds from body to drain. Sun came through the white curtained window with a gust.
Reyna unclipped the lid on a bottle of coconut shampoo, dropped a drizzle into her palm, then lathered it on her black hair. Hair so long it reached her lower back.
“Reyna!” her mom’s voice shouted again. Irritating.
“I’m leaving! Just came for the mail. Bye!”
What a relief, thought Reyna as she took a deep breath. She slowed down, turned the water off. Her hand crept out of the shower and snagged a white towel from the rack. She wrapped her hair, then stepped carefully out, one leg at a time until she was standing in front of the vanity. She wiped the fog. I’m gorgeous, she thought, with a towel around my head and nothing else. She had breasts. She had hair. She had legs, prize winning legs. In college she’d run track; hurdles and sprints. Those muscle were gone. They were just fit legs now. Sometimes she jogged and walked the cat.
“I’m Reyna,” she said to herself in the mirror extending her right hand as if to a stranger, “It’s a pleasure.”
She left the bathroom smelling like coconut and raspberry’s, and went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee in the Keurig contraption her parents recently purhcased from Costco. She put a little plastic cup of Starbucks Christmas blend in the machine, pressed down the lid until it crunched open that little plastic container, added water, then pushed the power button. The thing started making funny noises. She leaned her body against the marble counter. Her cat approached, jumping from floor to stool, then onto counter. It brushed it’s orange and white fur against her bare arm. The cat walked back and forth, rubbing it’s fur against her skin. Reyna was lost in thought and ignored Matilda. The machine beeped when the water finished boiling. She pushed the button with the little cup insignia sending hot brown liquid drizzling into a black Starbucks mug.
What shall I do today? she wondered. She stuck her hand on her cunt. It was still dry as Joshua Tree National Park. Reyna didn’t have a job, and she had no desire to have one. Therefore she had the ability to decide what she wanted to do every day. There were some financial limitations. She couldn’t fly to France because she only had a thousand dollars to her name. She could go to New York though, but what the hell was she going to do in New York. I could fly to France. She felt her cunt again, this time a little liquid dripped onto her index finger. She smiled. The other day she’d been looking on Kayak.com. One way tickets to Paris were under a thousand. The only thing stopping her was arriving in Paris with no money, no return ticket, no friends, no French, no work. There really was no reason for her to be there. She just wanted to go somewhere. She liked to call it Puh-ree. And she liked the pictures on Instagram.
When the coffee finished tinkling like a an old man with prostate problems she took the mug into the living room and seated her naked body on the couch. She turned on her parent’s sixty inch Sony television. Her father loved watching television almost as much as Reyna. When she was younger they’d watch shows together at night, after her homework was finished. They watched The Wire from beginning to end. Every night one episode. Never more than one. That was her father’s rule.
It was the closest connection she’d ever felt with him. The one thing they did together each day. Reyna begged at the show’s conclusion, “Just one more.” Her father was firmly negative. “It’s important to be moderate in your pleasures,” he’d say. She’d pout. If it were up to her they’d have stayed up watching till the morning birds started singing. Something’s don’t change. Just like currently with her Youtube shows, she became the characters she watched.
The show ended. Her father chuckled. He shut the TV off and walked towards the front door for his goodnight smoke on the porch swing. “Have a good night darling,” he’d say, “Same time tomorrow.”
She stopped seeing his ghost and returned her attention to shitty daytime television. She’d never been much of a daytime tv watcher until lately. All the shows were targeted towards blind worms. It might have something to do with the people who regularly sit at home during the day watching television. People who have checked out, she thought not considering herself among the maimed, and old people who aren’t paying attention to anything but their memories. The TV’s just background noise so they don’t feel so alone in their nursing homes.
Reyna found one daytime program she could handle: news. It’s on always. Viewing news feels slightly more socially responsible than, say, Jerry Springer. Reyna sipped coffee. At one point she’d attempted to start reading newspapers. Way too long. Two hours min to get from cover to cover. There had to be some hidden trick old people knew that she didn’t. Thirty minute news on television instead. Who has time for depth. She wasn’t trying to actually know anything, just feel like she did, then she could give off the illusion of being informed to everyone she interacted with, especially her cat Matilda.
The television went black as news broke for commercial. Reyna’s naked body appeared pearly and magnificent in the black screen. One of Michelangelo’s marbles carved into a black couch, legs spread wide, white towel wrapped around her head like a turban. Grinning she took the last sip of coffee, then set the mug on the side table beside her father’s chess board and reached for her cunt. It was definitely wet now and she played with herself to much joy.
She’d never seen her father play chess. She wanted to let her hair down. She un-did the towel. Shook her head back and forth. Black wet strands of hair slapped against her neck. Michelangelo’s marble came to life. She felt her body down her chest, to her legs, both hands on her vagina.
The news came back on. She removed her hands quickly as if someone was now watching her. Why don’t humans go around naked all the time? She wondered secretly to herself. What’s so wrong with the human body that we have to hide it behind clothing. It’s beautiful. I love my skin. Some people are so worried about the way their body looks. I bet if we went naked all the time, if clothes weren’t an option, no one would think twice about their body defaults. They’d accept things as they are, or work to change what they don’t like. They couldn’t hide it any longer. Who’s idea was this whole clothes thing. I guess in the winter time, when it’s cold, rainy and snowy, clothes are nice. They’re protection from the elements. And also, if you spend all day outside in the sun clothes are useful too, so you don’t get burnt. But these people who go into warm offices everyday, where it’s heated and comfortable, they should be naked. Definitely when you’re at home everyone should be naked. One day, when I have a family, I’m going to set forth the rule that everyone in the house, even guests over for dinner, must be naked. The first stop upon coming into my home is the bathroom where one must take off their clothes.
There was probably some insecure man or woman back in the day who said everyone needed to wear clothes because they were afraid to go around naked. I bet it was a man with a small pecker, tiny balls like children’s playing marbles. He didn’t want women, men or whatever catching a glimpse of his tiny peck peck. So he said it was illegal to be naked in public. Think, if I went meandering to the store naked to get breakfast, someone would call the police immediately. Maybe I’d make it as far as the cereal aisle for my Honey Nut Cheerios before I was snatched by security. “Sicko!” a woman would call to me from behind her shopping cart filled with all the items listed in the week’s coupon booklet. The police would arrive — one squad car outside the sliding glass doors parked in the fire lane. They’d stuff my perfectly normal naked human body into the back seat. Arrested for being publicly indecent. Is my body so indecent? I find it rather decent. I know I’m not built like a porn star.
“Is there something wrong with you mentally?” the officer would ask. He’s unable to keep his eyes from drifting to my perky nippled tits. “Look me in the eye,” I say, “Please sir, you’re making me uncomfortable by staring at my breasts. I’m a human being, you know. Look me in the eyes if you want to gauge my sanity.”
“You’re something, anyway,” his eyes then drift to the space between my legs. I close them quickly. “You have nothing to be uncomfortable about,” he says, “We won’t have to take you in if you can explain…” Just a pig pig. Snort snort. Chortle chortle.
“What did I do wrong?” I ask, “I don’t understand. Who did I hurt? I thought laws were made to protect people. I’m not endangering anyone. If anything I’m liberating people from their fear and ignorance. We’re all just innocent fucking animals, with bodies and sexual organs. For fuck’s sake! What’s so indecent about my naked body.”
“She’s an intellectual loony,” one officer said to the other.
All this Reyna imagined from the couch, in-between news broadcasts. I think I’ll drive to the beach now, she thought. It’s good sun for tanning. Through the window next to the TV sun beamed off the leaves of a Strawberry Tree.