I awoke to a police siren wailing in the distance, and as my eyes opened slowly I saw the faint glow of orange in the darkened sky through my patio window. Fucking cities. Even at five thirty in the morning the sky was still far from being completely black. It's as if the entire city is freaked out by the fucking dark, and so they've just traded the stars in for a giant nightlight.
I shifted off my couch slowly, making sure that I didn't wake the naked girl sleeping with her arm around me. I lay her arm down gently on the small space where my body had just been laying. I slowly wiggled my ass into a pair of jeans sitting on the floor, doing my best to stifle a yawn. After I nearly tripped over myself and onto sleeping beauty I grabbed a tee shirt that was lying on the floor next to me. I was just stepping out for a smoke, no need to get fancy with things like panties or a bra.
Looking around my trashed living room I searched for a pack of smokes, but instead was just faced with random piles of clothes, loose papers and pretty much every other object that ended up interjecting itself into my life. Almost every surface had either cigarette ashes, weed crumbs or a random assortment of different light powders. I struggled to remember the night before. My mind was filled with Hollywood lines, drunken wandering hands and music blaring loud enough to drown out the shit band that was playing below us.
That was a rather rude thing to say, seeing as how it was my buddies band, and as far as I could tell at that point we had met at their show. But to be frank, the group of drunks couldn't carry a tune to save their fucking lives. They could have always tried to just call themselves punk, except for the fact that they dressed more like a dandy camper then Oscar Wilde ever did.
The only reason why I was even there to begin with was because the only bar that would ever have them play just happened to be directly below my place.
For short periods of time I have to admit that I enjoyed a nice little routine between my bouts of chaos.
Finally I spotted a half empty pack of cheap smokes beside the coffee table on the floor. I opened the dilapidated pack and pulled out two of the partially flattened smokes, sticking one behind my ear and the other between my lips.
Shuffling quietly I made my way through the piles and around the bongs to the door and slid out as quiet as possible. Closing the sliding door behind me I saw last night's friend roll over and mutter something incoherent under her breath. Fuck, I couldn't remember her name.
Considering we spent a rather large portion of the evening talking a million miles a minute about absolutely everything that came to mind it would be assumed that I would have some trace memory of what it was. I remember starring at her perfect bow lips as she rambled on about how she had been double majoring for her undergrad, talking about how she used to rail lines of almost any upper she could get her hands on just to stay awake long enough to get her papers done. But in the end found that showing her male teachers her tits to get extensions on her papers to be a little easier then destroying her sleep patterns.
Somewhat ironic considering we had just stayed up for the past twentysix hours doing nothing but talking, drinking coffee and booze, hitting tokes and railing massive lines of everything we had been able to business even with shit bands obviously has certain benefits, such as patrons who sell rather colourful varieties of party favours.
Dropping myself onto the dusty faded couch that occupied my patio, I fetched one of the lighters from the nearby plant stand that serviced as a table and lit my smoke.
The couch was never meant to stay on my porch, but was too thick for the stairwell so we hoisted up, nearly breaking the bars front windows in the process, only to realize that my patio door was also too small. Thankfully all of my furniture had been swiped from the side of the road on garbage day, so I wasn't overly worried about the loss of any cash.
That being said, not too many buddies are that keen on letting me de-bug plush furniture in their garages for a couple weeks.
The couch was well suited where it sat though, and was often home to one or more of my friends, outdone by the night and content to rest where ever there was a safe soft spot crash.
Taking another drag, I felt the nicotine hit me as the smoke filled my lungs and made my head spin. I never understood when people said that smoking woke them up, for me it always made me feel so much drowsier, and enclosed in my own head.
I pulled my legs up so I was sitting indian style and it felt like for an instant I had just taken another bump of everything we had been putting up our noses. My body went light, as if every nerve was pleasantly electrified sending the wave up and through my scalp, and causing me to make a face. I had mad pasties and wish I had something close by I could take a swig of. I barely knew the girl on my couch and wasn't going to risk waking her by sneaking through my house with a lit cigarette just to grab a drink. I opted for just trying to spit over the railing, but was classy enough to hit it dead on instead. My mouth tasted bitter, thanks all the chemicals, but nothing distinct enough aside from the obvious coke to really determine what had ensued the night (day?) prior.
Towards the beginning of the night I can remember taking money out of an ATM, however the quantity is far from being anywhere close to my memory. Not that that is much of an issue. A couple years ago I discovered the joys of webcam modeling, and have been living a bountiful life ever since.
I can understand how this may be looked down upon by a rather large group of people. Those people can go fuck themselves, in the ass, with a wooden spoon. It's really none of my concern what their opinion is of my line of work. I pay my taxes like every other mother fucker- majority of CEO's, bankers and politicians are fully exempt from that for the most obvious of reasons.
Now what people say about you is really none of your business. But when asked what I do, I will never fucking shy away from the truth, and if someone thinks they have the stage to say whatever the hell comes to their mind, then I am obviously going to take the same courtesy.
I was snapped out of my train of thought when I heard the patio door open quietly beside me and the bow lipped beauty stepped out, with her long black hair tumbling around her shoulders. She had nothing but a blanket wrapped around her body, exposing just enough cleavage to make me start to get wet again.
