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Jose's Rumpus Room
bibliomaniac
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Jose Perez threw a party in honor of his new apartment. Two room rat hole with a rusted steel balcony and panoramic view of the Red Zone. Nice if you wanta see smog, criss-cross of wires, and bloated hookers clop up and down the broken pavement. But, ah yes, the aforementioned fiesta. All types of sordid junkies and nefarious types lurked in the smoke filled shadows of Jose's colonial apartment. Cocaine, marijuana, and booze passed many a hand.
Banda music and screaming and the vecinos rush in like jackals.
Stumbled over Javier in the bathroom and he said “I'm killing myself with this shit.” And looked at me with sick brown eyes. I take a snoot or two myself and feel it.
“Worthless shit.”
Half a bottle of tequila too soon and effects of cocaine cause me to lose control. I stumble and sway and the music - the music was all around me. Sniffing, I lean against chipped green painted wall and listen to hyped up drug fueled patter of Jose gab in galvanized gestures at some ratty whore strung out on goofballs. “…slammin’ that heroin with no electricity only that red candle, ya know - they turned off the lights and water. Man, was Chava happy to kick out that asshole roommate. Never take a puta with a monkey, mija. You can’t trust none of them motherfuckers. No bueno.”
Suddenly, I see this Mexican Indian boy in sharp spotlight. He is hooked and sick, sniffing and all the bones stand out on his face. He catches my look and walks over and leans on the green metal table and says: “You wanna be with me?”
Lean brown hand gently rubs against my hardening crotch. The guy is short, but handsome with strong Aztec features. In his hazel eyes flicker pinpoints of light.
Get out of here. Bar. Grocery store. Cable dish of television suck the sky like greedy siphons. The boy lived in a dead end alley. Rats scurry in gutters and the cockroaches...the cockroaches were downright arrogant. Old Spanish apartment with rusted iron balconies.
Dim light hangs from wire attached to the ceiling. Windowless room of concrete. Smell of mildew and unwashed linens. I tear open a small bag of cocaine; he rips open a packet of lubrication. Undress quickly and erect penis is oiled up. On all fours, I clench the thin brown blanket as the smack-smack-smack of his hips hit my naked ass. The coke explodes behind my closed eyelids like fireworks as he shudders deep inside of me to some kind of climax.
Through dry lips we both sigh together, “Muy bueno.”
In the back of a taxi libre, the lights of the city flicker across my face as we do a kamikaze race back to my flat. With the window down, the cold night air plays in my hair. I grin behind screwed up eyes.