The Night of TMI, Self-Flagellation, and Human Bondage (or lack thereof)

pizza

“That guy,” Murphy says, jerking his thumb at the door that Damien had just exited through. “You were kissing him.”

I nod. Murphy has definitely passed the “observation” part of this test. He places his half-full mug of beer on the table, a drip of condensation dribbles down the side. He sits opposite me in the booth. With Damien’s departure, I feel like the evening is over, but it’s not quite fair to Murphy. Although what in the world happened for those twenty-five minutes that he disappeared? That’s a question I do and don’t want answered.

“He looks like Dominic.”

Again, I nod. In another world would I have found Murphy’s plodding thought process intriguing?

“Did you cheat on Dominic with him?”

I laugh because it so happens I do remember very vividly the first time I met Damien. “Only a kiss and my contacts were to blame.”

“Your contacts?” He frowns as if trying to place the word. He fingers the castaside pizza slice as if reconsidering and then flips it over.

I point to my eyes and his face clears and he bobs his head up and down in acknowledgment.

“I have to know, where did you go for that half-hour?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me. If I were a cat…slash.

He immediately reddens, looks away from me toward the kitchen, and then down at his plate at the half-eaten slice of pizza. “I was in the men’s room like I said.”

I stare pointedly at him, but the part of me with the highly charged imagination doesn’t want to know.

“I have to read or functions don’t cooperate.”

I asked, didn’t I? When will I ever learn that my curiosity can sometimes go unfulfilled? I’m in the process of waving him off, but he starts talking again.

“So I started reading the next chapter of the Jack Reacher novel I got from the library, you know they have a ton of electronic books you can get on loan for free? And I just got so caught up in it that I kinda forgot where I was. Jack was in the middle of like an ambush situation and there was a lot of shooting and, man, I love guns. That book, it’s fan-fucking-tastic and I was like in another world,” he said, gulped some beer, and looked at me sheepishly. “Until some guy started banging on the stall door and asking if I’d fallen asleep. But he wasn’t really nice about it and he evidently doesn’t like Jack Reacher cause he kinda pushed me outta the way when I tried to explain. Ha. If I’d been 6’5” Jack Reacher he wouldn’t a done that. I thought about telling him I was a cop, but he was a big guy like an offensive lineman and you know I’m tall, but like no muscle but I’ve been trying to work out. Dominic says it attracts the ladies and if there’s a guy who knows more about that I don’t know him, but I guess you know all about Dominic. And who’s Damien again?”

“Dominic’s brother.”

“Dominic’s brother,” Murphy repeats and then gulps more beer. “Does Dominic’s brother get the kinda action that Dominic gets? Those Italian guys. What’s it about them? He looks like he could have muscles. I guess you would know about that. You’ve probably done the naked tango with him dozens a times. Did you do it when I was in the restroom? You’ve probably done it with both brothers. That’s kind of like incest, right? You must be into kinky. I’ve heard about girls like you, but never met one. My mother’s very Catholic. She was raised in Ireland, you know. She has to meet all the girls I go out with more than once. She’d probably scare you. I’m just letting you know for when you meet her. So do you like bondage?”

My mouth has fallen open. I am gaping. I wish I had a mirror. I’ve never seen myself gape before. I bet it’s super unattractive and yet Murphy keeps talking. He has now placed his hand over mine and is rubbing his thumb over my wrist until I jerk my hand into my lap, my fingers jabbing the roughness of my cast. His suggestive gaze defines the word lewd.

“Murphy, I appreciate your taking me for dinner tonight. Really. But my intuition says it’s just not going to work out for us.”

“Maybe just for tonight?”

I close my eyes and shake my head. I hate it when you read books where a character says they vomit a little in their mouths, but I just did that. I didn’t think it was possible until now. “Not even for tonight.”

“I guess it’s the brothers, right? I bet if there were a third one. . .”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” I shudder.

“You’re going to pay half, right?” he asks, opening his wallet.

Anything to get out of here.

 

end 9/30/2016

S. Darlington

6 thoughts on “The Night of TMI, Self-Flagellation, and Human Bondage (or lack thereof)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s