Johnny

My flittering eyes caught Jenna watching for a moment, and I smiled. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, and I certainly didn't care. He was fucking me. I won.

The rest of the night was a mindless fuck session between Johnny, Jenna, and me. All of us were too far gone in pleasure to adhere to rules, either created by Johnny or of our own inhibitions. We all did things to one another with a comfort and understanding that comes from the deepest primal urges in all of us, shocking, vile, and delectable. The details are too many and too frantic to write in coherent sentences. Nevertheless, to date it was the most wild, free, and wonderful sexual experience of my young adult life.

I've never seen Johnny again. I try to tell myself that it's been unintentional, that I just happen to show up at the bar whenever he's not working, that we're both just fleeting conquests in the other's repertoire; neither of us ever cross the other's mind anyway. But if I were to be honest with myself, our solitary night together is likely to remain a bedrock of self exploration. It was a confirmation of who I am, what I want, and what I will do for the men I crave. I fear such men. I fear this honesty. I fear what it means for my intellectual side, for the girl walking down the street in the daytime, for my goals in life far removed from primal desire. I fear to look in his eyes again and be forced to admit the helplessness of my need. Therefore Johnny will forever be at a distance, appearing only in Brad's occasional smirk, Jenna's sporadic veiled comments, and always in my fleeting thoughts alone at night before I sleep. Good night Johnny, where ever you are right now…and whomever you're with.