I Root for The Protagonist--Part 2* (*Scroll down for Part 1):

Sure reader, plenty of time to talk later. Talking’s over-rated anyway. A chick thing. I was an atomic bomb of pure energy on a night the whole of my half-life was coming to an end. I didn’t need words to approximate or label my experience. I wanted to feel free, free, free.

So with the exception of the techno music that blared incessantly, the three of us sat silently in the booth and stared at the various costumed partiers.

“...Where’d you go before?” Ata eventually asked me. “I didn’t see you dancing.”

“Some girl gave me a blowjob in the bathroom.”

“What?!” Ata asked as she whipped ‘round to face me.

“A girl gave me a blowjob in the bathroom. A butterfly girl. Or maybe she was a firefly--I’m not really sure. It was nice.”

“Not that girl with the lights all over her?” Ata asked.

“You mean the green ones? The flashing ones? Yeah, I think that was her.”

“Oh no Lodo--really?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

“Ugh, Lodo! That girl fucks everyone at these parties.”

“What d’ya mean--everyone?”

“ I mean everyone--she’s crazy,” Ata said as she stood up to scan the dancefloor. “Her?,” she asked as she pointed off into the distance.

And sure enough there was my butterfly girl leading another guy into the bathroom just as she’d done with me. Only now there was a whole train of guys standing in a line outside. At least a half-dozen of ‘em, in various costumes that only added to the debauchery of the situation. Smoking and fidgeting impatiently in anticipation of getting their rocks off.

God damn talking.

“Well,” I said, “if I get H.I.V I suppose we’ll know where I got it.”

To this we laughed momentarily until Ata’s eyes suddenly got wide and her jaw dropped open as though she’d seen some kind of ghostly apparition or sublime vision behind my eyes that required her to grasp the table for support.

“What?!” I asked, scared by her expression.

“My God Lodo!” she said as though in the midst of a great epiphany, “Before we were born we were dead a billion years!”

A bizarre comment so out of character for my sweet, simple Ata that I knew that acid of hers was worth scoring.

But Ata still seemed somewhat unsure of her experience.

“When I go to these parties I always dance and dance Lodo; but now I don’t even feel this music,” she said dejectedly.

Course the problem (at least in my mind) was that the music sucked. On Ecstasy you can dance and sway and feel groovy to that techno crap. It’s a fun, shallow drug. But on acid or mushrooms you need something soulful. Something real. I’m not saying it had to be Jimi Hendrix, but I’d have killed for a live drummer or just one horn player.

But all we had was the dee jay and and I was tired of sitting round. I was officially on the opposite side of 45 and possibly already dying of H.I.V, so all this feminine passivity began to rub me the wrong way.

“You know what the problem is?” I said to Ata as I grabbed her arm and proceeded to pull her out the booth, “you’ve gotta dance to this music. This isn’t stuff to just sit here and listen to.”

“No!” she screamed as she anxiously tried to shake from my grip. But I wasn’t having it.

“No to you!” I responded. “You were the one who told me I had to get out tonight. Let’s go, and we’re even taking smacked-out Nikki here with us.”

“Nikki--are you kidding?”

No I wasn’t kidding. I felt like Robert De Niro in The Deerhunter as I pulled Ata out the booth and scooped Nikki up over my shoulder. She offered no resistance whatsoever and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. With the two of them I stormed out onto the crowded dance floor where I placed Nikki down like a bowling pin. She wobbled on her rubbery legs, but was packed within so many people she could never entirely fall over. By the time I turned ‘round, Ata was already dancing and twirling with beautiful abandon, lost in her beloved techno.

And she never did stop. At least, not til the sun came up. All of us at the party greeted it together as the first rays of the new dawn split thru the dirty window panes of the old Brooklyn loft. It was only die-hards by now, which isn’t to say there weren’t a lot of us. Maybe 50 people. So over-tired from dancing and drugs that a kind of exhausted, beat clarity set in that made you feel part of something bigger. The dee jay continued to spin records, and Ata--who’d sat out much of the night, was one of the few of us with any juice left.

Still, there was one gal I noticed out the corner of my eye. She was dressed like a tiger and wore a sign that read I’m one of the 99 purrrcent! We exchanged a few meaningful glances over the course of about half-an-hour, and at some point found ourselves next to each other on the dance-floor.

“I like your hat,” she eventually said to me. “That’s hot.”

“So are you,” I said as I playfully stroked her tail. She didn’t seem to mind.

“...Well, I guess one thing leads to another,” I said as I grabbed her round the waist and tried to led her into the bathroom like the night had started.

“Hey!” she said as she swatted my arm away, more shocked than angry. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “One thing leads to another is all,” as though somehow that meaningless statement answered all questions.

“One thing hasn’t led to anything,” she answered. “In fact, one thing hasn’t even happened yet. I’ve known you for 2 seconds.”

I had to consider her comment.

“Yeah, I see your point. ...But someone has to take the initiative.”




* NOTE: The top (5) photos were taken by me and may or may not have been from the party described herein. Also note that I did not receive oral sex from any of the women who's images I've used in this post. Their pictures have been included simply to enhance the story. Thanks for reading!!

I Root for the Protagonist (Part 1):

"You mind if I tell you something?" she asked.




"Never get off the boat. Never get off the boat."





So I’d written something 'bout my birthday last weekend, but I’ve held off on posting in hopes that my friend Ata would have sent me some pics by now. I think my posts lack a certain impact without pictures, but fact is we weren’t allowed to use cameras anyway since (as Ata put it), “it was a total underground sex-drug party.”

‘Course I love an underground sex-drug party; except that last Saturday New York experienced some freaky global-warming snowfall that left me inclined to just stay home despite it being both Halloween and my birthday. I need a large crowd and snow like a hole in the head; but Ata was having none of that.

“Lodo, are you crazy? Its your birthday! And its underground party. Sex-drug-costume party. You must go with me. You need to be more outgoing if things are going to happen.”

So I took the train up to Williamsburg feeling rather moronic in costume at 45 years of age. Adding to my self-consciousness was the fact I’d eaten a bunch of mushrooms before I left the house that had kicked-in faster than expected. So my train ride was filled with morphing goblins, giggling college-age bunnies, and prismatic light trails that left me a little unstable ‘til I got out to the crisp air of the street. There I found Ata waiting for me in her sexy Avatar costume with a bit of excited news of her own.

“Guess what I did before I came here?” she asked as I stole a kiss and a quick squeeze of her silky niceness.

“That drug you like to dance to,” I responded, “the molly’.”

“No!,” she answered mischievously, “I took your drug--acid!”

“Acid?!--Holy shit! Where’d you find that? I can never find that out here.”

“I found it,” she said with a laugh as we began to walk to the party, “I have a connection. He’s gonna be here tonight with a bunch of my friends. You’ll like them.”

Wow reader, acid. You just cannot find that here in New York. Here its all coke and booze. Asshole Wall Street drugs or real hardcore smack. But acid, man I wanted to score some of that!

Only you’ve gotta be careful with that stuff. Until the government creates some standards (which I’m sure is at the top of Obama’s priorities at the moment) you’re at the mercy of the guy who’s made it. There’s good acid, but there’s also speedy acid and sometimes there’s just bad acid; so when we got to the party and Ata began to look a little spooked and unsure, I steered her into a dark booth toward the back.

“How you feeling?” I asked her.

“I can’t feel my teeth or my mouth. They’re numb. Is that supposed to happen?”

“Not really,” I answered somewhat disappointed--not just because my empathy for her was heightened due to my own altered state; but because I really wanted that acid to be good so I could score.

“Listen, you stay here. I’m gonna dance for a little bit ‘cause my booms are kicking in, but I’ll just be over there,” I told her as I pointed to the dance-floor. “Any problem just come get me.”

I left Ata in the booth and proceeded out to the dance floor where I danced and danced and danced by myself as waves of mushroom-induced energy pitched and rose inside me in conjunction with the moronic donkey-beat of the famous New York dee jay.

Periodically I checked on Ata who seemed committed to the safety of her booth. Never get out of the boat. Never get out of the boat seemed to be her mantra, though I must say she was calm and consistently looked at me with a wide-eyed wonderment that; if nothing else, wasn’t terror. I tried to chat her up a bit. Keep her connected, but I myself was peaking hard and after several minutes of what I thought was charming banter Ata began to literally cry tears as she put her hand to my mouth,

“Lodo you have to shut up now--you just keep talking and talking and talking!”

Okay reader, I know when I’m not wanted. I returned to the dance floor and went back at it again for who knows how long when I suddenly felt a tap at the small of my back. I turned ‘round to see a cute brunette gal dressed as a fluorescent butterfly, with lights that glowed green and real wings affixed to her back. She handed me a joint, which apparently belonged to a circle of people behind her.

“You mind if I tell you something? she asked with a little pixie smile.

“Sure,” I said as I took a big drag of the joint and handed it back.

“You’re rocking that hat,” she said as she pointed to my fedora.

“Oh thanks. I’ve had some good times in this thing.”

“I bet,” she said again, “you look gooood.”

“Thanks,” I told her as I tried to encourage her to dance with me.

“You mind if I try that on?” she asked.

Fact was I did sort of mind. Like I’d told her, I had some great times in that hat. It’s expensive and molded perfectly to my head. And if you’re not careful with it you can damage the fabric and the perfect crease in the top. So I was hesitant.

“Come on,” she said, “I’ll be careful with it.”

But still I was hesitant, much to my own surprise. My instincts told me to hold out.

“...What if we went in there?” she asked as she pointed to the bathroom. “Could I try it on in there?”

“In there?...” I answered as I looked toward the open door to the bathroom.

“Umm hmm,” she said as she moved her body from side to side like a bug on a flower.

“...Yeah, okay. In there.”

So she took my hand, led me into the small bathroom, where I closed the door behind us. There was just a single toilet with a mirror and sink affixed on the opposite wall. She dramatically removed my hat, placed it on her head and inspected herself. Once satisfied, she turned back around.

“Now that it’s on my head I’m gonna give you head,” she laughed as she made a bee-line for my pants and proceed to give me a blowjob.

I was really tripping by this time so it took a few moments for me to get my junk up properly, but once I got going I was all-in and my gal was really invested. Shortly before I popped she handed back my hat,

“Here, I want you to wear this while I finish," she said. "You should always wear that.”

As instructed I put the hat back on and allowed her to finish me off. To my surprise it didn’t take long, and when we were done--or I was done, I prepared to leave. But she wasn't ready.

“Wait!” she said as he slammed the door closed with a kick of her foot and proceeded to hop on to the ceramic sink. Then she put a hand up the bottom of her skirt, and began to frig herself really aggressively ‘til her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body began to spasm.

“Oh man!” she said when she’d had her fill. “Doing that makes me so crazy!”

Both of us done, we left the bathroom. The gal returned to her friends and I went to check on Ata who was still where I’d left her. I thought she was alone, but when I got to the booth I discovered a cute, pig-tailed Asian girl dressed like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. She slouched on one side of the horseshoe shaped couch with a blank expression and a drop of spittle on her bottom lip. She appeared ‘bout to collapse face-first on to the nearby table in cartoon fashion.

“You know her?” I asked Ata.

“Yeah, that’s Nikki. You should talk to her, you’ll like her.”

I looked at Nikki’s unfocused, blunted eyes. With each passing moment she pitched more and more forward as she approached an inevitable gravitational tipping point. I placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her into the booth’s seatback. She made no response or gesture except to slowly pitch forward again at glacial speed.

“Well, you two can talk in a little bit,” Ata said.


* NOTE: Due to the length of this post, I'm going to split it into another part. Part 2 should be done in a few days (hopefully I'll have some pics!).

** ADDITIONAL NOTE: All women's images contained herein were stolen off Google Images and were used simply to enhance the story. I did not receive oral sex from any of the women you see herein.