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And it hugely pisses me off that the "older and wiser heads" were right: If you can't stand the heat, STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN.
I'm working on a soap opera script, Cheronne. I'm sure I can sell it to a network. It's going to be called
THE YOUNG, THE BLOND, AND THE HORNY.
I'd like us to forgive one another. Please. Shouldn't our love survive this?
Sheridan, Wyoming
September 17, 1979
Just read Molly on catastrophe, what it felt like for her. I'm on my way back to Wyoming to start a new project at a mine site, stopped to visit Doug. Cook is gone; for good, I guess.
I've never seen this part of Washington looking so beautiful. I'm so happy to be alive: even the most commonplace things wear a halo of magical light around them. It's breathtaking; and sailing Doug's fast ketch past the Orcas and inside of Whidbey Island has been the thing I needed to set me right; start me cleansing myself and healing. I love the speed and the clean, cold wind; the hull slicing through the cold green sea with an exhilarating lift, roll, and crash. A weather day, and us making for a lee; you get everything out of her that you can, and then more. And pray, or scream. My heart is in my mouth; every nerve ending singing, humming; all I can do is grip the mainsail sheet in both hands to prevent us broaching or being pooped. On the brink of being swallowed whole by the monstrous sea, we're smiling at one another, eyes wide open; laughing. Jesus, we're ALIVE.
Doug, you are a miracle. We're like twin brothers of different parents. We talk about racing; music; literature; women. We've been friends such a long time, maybe no one else could understand us. Sometimes all you have to do is look at me a certain way, or make one of your funny expressions, for me to start laughing like a hyena. We've never shared this much adult misery, though.
You offer a place to stay as long as I need it. I told you that I started using heroin again when I couldn't drink any more whiskey, and you cried. We cried together: your mom's death in a bottle; the end of Cheronne and Davi; the end of Doug and Catherine. Then we smoke a cigar, drink a cold beer, pick one another out of our self pity and laugh. We have always been this way - it's what I love about and need from you, Doug. I hope Cheronne and Molly rediscover that about one another. I've never had a friendship tested by that kind of hurt and betrayal, so I don't know if it's possible to really forgive, go on, and ultimately strengthen.
When I finally left to drive out here to Big Wonderful Wyoming, I was refreshed, and beginning to believe that I might someday find once more a little enjoyment in life. The first sight of the Tetons. HOME. Camping high up on the Buffalo Fork; lodgepole pine smoke and a pot of cowboy coffee; catching and releasing gorgeous and strong eighteen-inch cutthroat trout from the Snake; they convinced me that I was healing. Alone, riding Mike's cutting horse and leading a pack mule into the Thorofare; the loneliest and most remote place in all of the lower 48 states. Twelve days of solitude, fishing, the stars. My God, the stars. Grizzly bears; sandhill cranes; wolves; moose; elk. It's not really a wilderness unless there's something out there that could kill and eat you. A hundred or a thousand miles, or six generations to a house, a light, a newspaper. I've seen another face of God, I guess.
Life is busy: work in the great outdoors of Wyoming, New Mexico, Colorado, Montana, Washington and Montana; friends, fish, skiing, rebuilding a life from cold, bitter ashes. Living here makes it easier to be pure. There's no heroin, and besides, I don't need it anymore.
I'm LONELY. I should have begged you, Molly. Please stay. Spend the winter here with me. We love each other. Please come back. How can you leave me; us? Remember the way we love each other; the way we touch. The way we smile at one another in understanding at a sunset. Our delight watching the otters in the river. Sleeping - really sleeping - together and no terror of being found out. Going outdoors and down the path through the little field to the Tongue River to swim; your tall naked body so beautiful, so sexy. Making love on a sunwarmed shelf of sandstone at the river's edge. When you cry out "Oh God, Oh Davi", a heron starts from its fishing with a deep GRRRAWWWWWK. We laugh, even as your body quakes, and tears trickle from your cheeks; even as my love is shooting into you.
I love you so much, Molly. Please come back when you can. I want you to be with me. Forever, I think. You can be a lesbian; I'll be one, too. You can have other women or men, if you want them. I mean it.
I have no regrets, Molly. I cried, then got drunk at the Mint when you left, but I know you can't stay here. You belong somewhere else. It's cold, wild, and primitive; it's not California or New York. I won't say WITH someone else.
No regrets.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 19 years agoThe most erotic on this site. Not only sex, but also real people; AND REAL EMOTION.
I myself would rate this story My Goddesses as an exceptional piece of literature, not just erotica.
Anonymousabout 19 years agoThe comment from the person who thought "My Goddesses..." too serious was well-taken. The story itself was not originally intended to be erotic (really), but instead to reflect a little on the character's lack of judgement and perhaps even morality. For a young man embarked on a voyage of sexual and romantic discovery, love-making is a mysterious, powerful, sometimes dangerous pleasure.
Anonymousabout 19 years agoi think your skills are excellent. i liked your characters- even though there were at times so many that it was hard to keep straight. but i think there is the skeleton of a bigger peice within this story. i think this has the makings of a novel. with work and refinement-- and some backstory. we didnt know he was an addict until he had relapsed. we never saw the disintegration of cheri and davi's relationship. the blog/article format was very creative. i gave you a 100 because i think you took a lot of risks and you injected one of the most lacking elements in so many stories. emotion. i hope to hear more from you.
Anonymousabout 19 years agoImpressive first effort - obviously you have written elsewhere before.
I admired but found my attention wandering ahead drenched in willowy phrases and - look you don't need to impress anyone - just believe in yourself and tell a story that isn't draped in self satisfing phrases or an effort to impress covering up your talent. Serious it down - have some fun. Too much verbosity in introspection can be overwelming to the tale.
Or maybe I'm being a little too critical - what do you think?
