House of Sin: Part One

by Vince Stark

  We exchanged a few pleasantries and off she went. I lived in Pender, it’s almost suburbia. The houses are far apart and it is treed enough that there is a decent amount of privacy. My house was a beautiful heritage home that I have updated slowly over the years. I was in university when I bought it, though it was only because of inheritance from my grandfather I was able to afford it. Before that I was in Bonneville, partying hard and getting into trouble. We toured with the band often enough so university took longer than it should have. I wasn’t in a rush to finish, I enjoyed the balance. I enjoyed university, I was learning about myself, learning why I treated sex like a drug and how to deal with that.

  This house though, I loved this house. Something I had learned early on is once you disrespect your home it changes, it feels different from then on. Once you have a wild party, or do hard drugs, or simply neglect it there is no bringing it back. The walls of a home hold in memories that can’t be washed away and will not let you forget. I never had a party here, I rarely brought home a woman. My home was my sanctuary and I felt lucky to have it.

  My reviving process had begun; coffee was brewing and I had the shower running. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was strange how being thirty-three my face had signs of both youth and signs of age. I tried to keep a five oclock shadow but sometimes I shaved. My eyes looked tired from the night before, I think the color of my eyes changed sometimes too, if you look at them close they have many colors, green, blue, yellow, and brown. My dark brown hair is going all directions, long strands fall over my face and I push them back. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought about how fast time will pass me by. If you look for them you can see grey in my mess of hair, how long before they take over? I imagined sharing my life with someone, with Leah. The thought made me laugh to myself.

  For my whole life it has been a battle between us, my cock and I, for most of my life my cock controlled me completely, pussy was like heroin to me and often still is. I learned to feel it coming, sometimes I can keep it at bay, but at a certain point there is no going back. My mind turns dark, it is like I will die if I don’t shoot cum inside a warm pussy, or mouth. Thankfully I have learned to read people quite well. I can find others in a crowd who are like me, in some ways everyone is. I have found that even the most boring of people have a time in their life where they are controlled by their sex drive. You can feel it off them, I feel it off of Leah. Sometimes it is fun to try to seduce a women who is not like me, but I rarely do, they are timid and scare easy, who has the time.

  With a few exceptions, It is amazing how early on in an interaction you can just pull your hard cock out of your pants. Most of the time they look terrified for a moment, then the terror melts away into something else, they put it in their mouth almost every time. There are the few that fall to their knees the second they see it and shove it there mouth like they have been waiting there whole lives for this moment. My cock is big, not novelty big, but it’s thick and powerful, when it is hard I feel like it is a weapon. I have been told it is perfect for sucking.

  My shower is larger than some rooms, it was the first reno project I attempted. There were multiple shower heads, and the tile work was impressive. The water was hot and the steam brought out the smell of the cedar ceiling. Sometimes I think the best part of life is just standing in a hot shower. I made the water hotter as I got used to it. I looked down at my penis and thought about Leah, I imagined her feminine fingers wrapped around it.

  The image of her bent over when she took the shot that won the pool game was burnt in my brain. Water fell from my nose and chin, I looked down and watched my cock rise. I wondered if she has ever taken it up the ass, maybe I could be the first. I held my growing cock in my hand. I let this idea swim around my brain while I washed up. I kept thinking about her, with a handful of soap I washed my cock, now totally hard. I was in a daze, half washing half playing. This is all a part of the process, of starting the day and getting rid of this hangover. I let my mind go where it wanted, Leah dominated my thoughts, Louise for a moment, Marjorie made a cameo telling me I was filthy man, briefly I simply thought about myself in the present time fucking my hand in the shower. I stepped out of the water so it was just hitting my back, one hand above my head on a railing and the other stroking my cock. The water flattened all the dark air on my body. Images of Leah filled my head, bent over, smiling, sitting in the car, eating cherries, sucking my balls while I jerked off. I stopped channel surfing in my mind and stayed with the thought of Leah on her knees licking my balls here and now in this steamy shower. Looking up at me pouting, “Are you going to cum for me baby” She said in a soft caring voice and returned to licking my balls while I jerked my cock off hard causing my balls to bounce around, the flat of her tongue hugged them perfectly, gliding her tongue up she looked at me with submissive eyes. I tensed my muscles and came. The first few shots of cum stretched across her face, the next wave left cum half in her mouth and half on her cheek “Mmm, did I do a good job for you” Leah asked while pushing the cum on her cheek into her mouth. My vivid imagination flickered back to reality and I saw my reflection in the glass shower door with my hard cock in my hand. I was pleased with how I looked because I have been hitting the gym. Did I pay the electric bill? I thought to myself, the mind wonders, the coffee must be ready. I shut off the shower and headed downstairs.

  I work an hour in the opposite direction of Bonneville in a town called Texada. A medium sized town on the water. It is always daytime in Texada, and always night time in Bonneville, and here in Pender is where I hide.

  The coffee I am pouring is almost the last step of the reviving process. The smell of fresh coffee and morning air filled me with life. From my chair I could see Bonneville, there is always a haze above it. It was rare that I would go to the city during the day, but I knew I had to today. I left my bike there and I needed to get money from Frank. Frank was the owner of the Metropolis, he had a habit of not paying and sometimes needed to be reminded. I didn’t foresee any problems but I would bring my blade just in-case, he ran with a dangerous crowd and it’s hard to say what you’re getting into with Frank. The three of us in the band didn’t really need the money, we barely considered it, making sure Frank paid was a matter of principle.

  The next hours would be spent doing very little but drinking coffee, being comfortable, and getting dressed. Saturday mornings should not be rushed.

  The sun burnt off the morning mist and was high in the sky, I was recharged. I called a taxi and put on my black leather boots.

  On the ride into town I got a message from Heather, “Lunch?”

  My relationship with Heather is hard to explain, she has been in my life consistently for the better part of a decade. She has a habit of building me up then cutting me down, she would give me a flood of compliments and tell me what I need to hear, then rip me apart the moment I seemed vulnerable. I am not sure if she is a good person, even after all these years. She challenges me, but rarely in a good way. Over the years we would have little periods of time where we would have sex, we basically would hate fuck each other. It usually resulted in not speaking to each other for months after the fact. Over the last decade this routine has been fairly consistent. We would be friends of sorts, she would be all head fucky, and I would be distant. We would fuck and things would get weird. As complex as our relationship is Heather really does look out for me.

  We hadn’t had sex in a long time. When did have are little encounters, it usually involved me tit fucking her. In fact, that is what I did to Heather almost every time. She was built for it perfectly, sometimes I used lube but spit can be better. I loved squeezing her between my legs and tucking my cock between her big soft tits. She was perfect for this, I would glide my big dick between her breasts and hang on to the headboard. In a way it is all very impersonal, she would squeeze them together and guide my dick so I wouldn’t fly out and talk dirty to me. “Am I your dirty little tit fuck girl?” she would say.

  It wa
s rare to hear from her like this, even with all the underlining animosity she was a friend, and I thought maybe something was up. She had a little apartment that wasn’t far from where I was going. I messaged her in response, “The Treehouse, see you in an hour” it was a little lunch spot that I liked.

  I gave the Cabbie 40 dollars and told him to keep the change. Bonneville on a sunny Saturday, I am more familiar with the city at night, and maybe more comfortable. I stood in front of the Metropolis, it was a beautiful theater that had a rich history. On the walls there were advertisements for upcoming events, A BareskinRug poster was still there, a white background with a black image of a bear skin on it. I found it looked more like an inkblot.

  I walked through the doors and into the lobby, when the door closed behind me it hummed with silence. Hundreds of competing smells sat in the still air. It was mostly dark, daylight fought to come in from the main entrance windows but was quickly overwhelmed by the darkness of the theater. This was not a place for natural light. To get to Frank’s office I had to walk into the main hall, and then behind the stage. I knew banging on the back door would be pointless and this was the best way.

  Being in that theater alone sent chills up my spine. Some of the best experiences of my life were here. The room looked like it was sleeping and I walked quietly as to not wake it up.

  “You’re crazy to leave your bike in that alley overnight” The voice echoed around and I pivoted to find the source.

  Behind me, looking up I could see Frank was sitting in the balcony behind me. He was leaning on the railing with his arms folded, cigarette in hand. The hair he had left was grey and combed to the side, his voice was harsh from a million cigarettes. He had a tick where he was constantly scratching his wrinkled forehead. I felt I was disturbing something.

  “Franky, here with all your friends” I asked

  He stood up and walked down the steps, ”I guess you want money” his voice filled the room even though he was out of site for a moment.

  “Sold out show” I responded

  Frank stopped a few rows from where I stood and smoked his cigarette deliberating something, then motioned me to follow, ash from his cigarette fell to the floor as he waved his hand

  “Come on, we will settle up”

  I followed him to his office, and he handed me a fistful of cash. His age was showing and I was left feeling sympathetic for him. He was a wheeler and a dealer, it was always business with Frank. He sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette off of the nearly burnt out one he just finished. “So there is a festival over in Galliano next month, big names will bring some big crowds. I can get you guys a good slot on the big stage” He looked up for my response.

  “Are you our acting agent now? How much will you get if we do?” I asked him with a knowing smile. It is a strange game I play with Frank. I enjoyed haggling with him. What he did not know is that I have a cottage over in Galliano, I was planning on spending at least a month of the summer there and the thought of a festival gig to break it up sounded like fun.

  “Maybe I should be your agent, someone has to step up to the plate, you guys would never play a show if I didn’t take care of you”

  He was right in a way, we were madly passionate about our music and playing live but we didn’t feel the need to do the big shows often. We jammed every couple of weeks at Brad’s house, it often turned into a party with other friends.

  “I’ll talk to the guys about, I’ll see ya Frank”

  I pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped into the back alley, there she was. My bike waited for me just as I left her. I had a brief memory of leaving my pedal bike lying down outside the general store as I poured change on the counter for candy. The old bike seemed to summon pleasant memories, it didn’t mind that I left her here. She was old friends with the theater by now.

  I fired it up, it was as loud as the devil in this alley. I warmed it up as I always did, with each snap of the throttle it gave a scream. I contemplated my route to my questionable lunch date. The bike hummed along and told me she was ready. Off we went to see Heather.

  The little restaurant was charming, I haven’t been there in years. It felt slightly different then I remembered. There was Heather staring at her phone in the corner.

  “Hiya”

  “hey”

  “Seat taken?”

  “It is now”

  She pushed it out slightly with her foot.

  I took the seat and sat down.

  “So how are ya feeling” I asked.

  “Meh, I’m alright”

  A waitress asked if I needed a drink.

  “Beer and tomato juice “This was the final step in the revival process.

  Heather was lost in her phone, I wondered why she would ask me to hang out if she was just going to stare at her phone.

  “Do you still believe in Love” she asked not looking up from her phone.

  I felt my pulse increase, this was not good opener, my mind raced and I wondered how I could get out of this.

  “I met someone” she said looking up at me.

  I relaxed, my heart went back to normal.

  “Who’s the lucky guy” I asked

  “Don’t flatter yourself Jack it’s not you”

  The waitress returned with a pint that was not quite full and a can of tomato juice. I slowly shook the can to tomato juice and responded.

  “It’s amazing how easily we can sabotage a good thing by overthinking it”

  “I mean is it too late for people like us”

  “People like us?”

  “In our thirties”

  I gave her a look questioning her thinking and poured the tomato juice into the pint.

  “What has gotten into you” I asked

  “It’s like, through-out your life, slowly things are taken away. First the tooth fairy isn’t real, then Santa, eventually some tells you that you can’t actually be an astronaut, or a movie star. Sometimes I feel that someone is going to pull me to the side and tell me Love is a myth.”

  I was drinking my elixir half listening, I put the pint on the table with a bang.

  “Why don’t I just kill myself now” I questioned.

  “I’m serious Jack”

  “If you truly believe love does not exist you will easily cast love away, If you focus on what you don’t want deeply enough it will become real” I poured the remainder of the tomato juice into the pint.

  “That my dear Jack, was a load of shit” she responded. Heather can be a bitch, she gave me her best bitch face and moved slightly to show her cleavage off a little better.

  “Imagine you’re walking on a narrow country road” I began to explain

  “Here we go” she rolled her eyes

  I leant in and made eye contact. “You are walking alone down a very narrow road and you can see a car way up ahead, the car see’s you too. Behind you is another car, they too can see you. Everyone knows the road is narrow and no one wants everyone to pass each other at exactly the same time because there might not be enough room.”

  Heather drank her tea, and smiled. “I would just run over the person walking”

  “You are the person walking, now pay attention”

  “Both cars and the person walking are making adjustments in there speed to avoid all meeting at the same time, there is plenty of time to avoid this, in fact the timing would have to be perfect for this to happen, it should be easy to avoid”

  “So . . .”

  “So, what happens every time?”

  “What?”

  “Every time, the two cars and the person walking meet at exactly the same spot, even though that’s what everyone was avoiding”

  We drank our beverages and shared an awkward moment.

  “Be careful what you focus on, it will come true”

  “Fuck off” Heather looked back at her phone. I briefly daydreamed about ripping it out of her hands and smashing into a million pieces on the floor.

  “Just let yourself feel goo
d, think nice thoughts, and feel sweet emotions, life works better that way”

  I drank what was left of my beer and tomato juice, laid down money on the table and stood up.

  “That girl seems a little square for you Jack” Heather changed subject without warning

  “I have to run”

  “Take care willow” her mouth was left in a pout.

  The ride back home was pleasant, the nice part of riding a bike is you can smell every restaurant you pass by, when you pass over a small bridge you can feel the cool air from the water running beneath. I let my mind wander, the bike seemed to know where to go. I was pulling into my driveway before I knew it.

  I opened my front screen door and promised myself I would replace it soon, it really stuck out being on such a beautiful home. I laid on my couch and thought of Leah, thinking of her gave me a warm feeling. I usually cherish my Saturdays afternoons alone, but today I was lonely. I wanted Leah to be here. I knew I would search for her at the Sunday Market tomorrow.

  Chapter Six

  “Fuck”

  I recoiled back in reaction to bacon grease spitting up and hitting me in the chest, 30 years old and I still haven’t learned never fry bacon with your shirt off. Sunday mornings call for a big breakfast and good music, I put on Otis Redding and let the record play.

  I knew I was being silly, feeling like I did. My own advice for Heather was echoing in my head, I am going to let myself feel good. Even if she looks at me like I had two heads and four eyes when I found her, from now until then I am going to feel good. It’s hard not to when Mr. Redding is playing nice and loud.

  After my morning feast I finished my coffee in the garage and sized up my most recent project, a 1939 Vincent Motorcycle. A rusty old frame sat at eye level and a box of parts were on the table. I drank my coffee and stared at it dreaming. I like to dream, when you stop dreaming your dead. Sometimes dreaming is better than the real thing. I often let my mind wander where ever it wants to go, too many people question their own dreams and adjust thoughts as if others could see what they are thinking. No one can see, it’s a safe place and the only person who will judge you is you.