Sex and Death in the American Novel

by Martinez, Sarah

  The regular house lights went up and we went to the side of the stage. She said, “I'll catch up with you later sister, I gotta change.”

  I nodded, raced over to where Eric stood waiting for me. We both stood there with our mouths open and made little screams in the air and he said, “Oh My God.”

  “I know,” I said and we did it all over again. Maybe I should have kept dancing, I could have gone off and done that all night, except I had one more thing to keep my heart thudding, even after I caught my breath.

  “That was pretty impressive,” Jasper said from beside me. He looked from me to Eric, and back again, shy.

  “Thank you,” I said, giving him a once over, even as Eric pinched my hip, acknowledging what a turn of events this was to have Jasper here. “You came back! You dressed up.”

  He wore a black shirt in the same sort of clingy shimmery material that Eric wore, only his shirt looked like it fit better somehow, the lines on it were perfect, and the jeans he wore were so deeply and uniquely colored they became dress pants. No jewelry, as I expected; that was probably a good thing. I guessed there was a very short distance between his abilities to accessorize and his ability to pick out clothes.

  Eric stuck out his hand, barely containing a smile. “I didn't get the chance to meet you last night.”

  “Right. Jasper,” he said, and they shook hands. “You guys want a drink? I bet you need one,” he said, turning to me.

  I nodded, studying his face. Here he looked so much less sure of himself and I was touched that he showed up when it was obvious he was so far out of his element. He even dressed for the occasion. He saw me studying his shirt and pulled it out and held it out for me to feel.

  Eric beat me to it. “This is high-class designer. Somebody must have hit the boutique at Nordstrom today.” His voice was playful, but I saw Jasper shrink.

  I grabbed Jasper's arm and pulled him off toward the line at the bar.

  With our drinks in cold, thick glasses, we stood watching people dance, mostly men, though there were enough women mixed in that at times I forgot where I was. The night was almost back to the barely controlled sexual chaos of any other night, though the air was charged with a higher-than-normal anticipation. A small, dark man took his shirt off in front of one of the mirrored pillars, he began running his hands up and over his chest and arms and brought his fingers up to his mouth. He watched himself, like he was hoping to impress the reflection he saw and went back to his dance, absently stroking himself. Around him couples were in the first stages of feeling each other up, seeing how far they could push it, still more focused on being out and having fun than figuring out who they were going to go home with.

  The floor tiles lit up pink, blue, white, and the strobe above flashed down on all of us. Laura said she would find me. I wondered if Jasper would expect to be taken care of all night or if he would indulge me and Laura. When I didn't see her after twenty minutes I decided it was time to dance. I stood, tipped my head toward the crowd and without waiting for Eric or Jasper, I squeezed through the crowd and warmed up on the floor before trying to tackle the stage. After a few minutes I felt a continued presence behind me, and reached to feel a pair of large hands and a warm, lean form there. I detected a subtle shake when I covered his hands with my own.

  He danced behind me for a time, awkward, stiff, slow, and I began to feel embarrassed for him. He was killing my mojo. Straight guys sometimes got very self-conscious here, spending more time looking around, watching everyone else. Were they comparing themselves, judging? I turned and there he was, looking down, over a head taller than me, I gave him the most penetrating stare I could, and I moved backward as subtly as the shapes behind me would allow. It was only a space of two feet at most, but the moving seemed to connect his feet and his brain and he smiled, brave. I took one of his hands, lifted it in the air, then back down to wrap around me, and I came back to him, turning and sliding my back down the front of him, and when I spun back he wore a wide smile. Teeth! I smiled back, connecting with him somewhere else for once besides the place of pain and regret.

  Eric was on the stage, third back in a row of seven guys, all shirtless, hands busy on the guys in front and behind. Sweat clung to their bodies, highlighting under the multicolored lights the differences in their skin tones. Eric, porcelain white, the guy in front of him, a deep tan, the one behind, cream-colored flesh, and at the front of the body train was a muscular black man in tight shimmery shorts.

  Jasper watched with me, I wondered if he took in the same details, their expressions, the happiness and abandon in their eyes. The hair around his face was damp and clung in short spikes to his skin, I studied the space between his earlobe and the back of his neck. I hadn't danced like this with anyone I knew from somewhere else, from the outside world, except Eric. Strange to think I had enough influence to move someone from the stiff outside world to mine, where I was comfortable, and in doing that, make him comfortable, showing him all the wonders of my world.

  I bit my lip and ran my fingers up inside his shirt; his skin was just beginning to wet. He jumped as if jolted, and his face went blank, then recovered, and before I pulled back he grasped my hand to keep it there. In response I ran the other one up too, delighting in the ridges of muscle on his stomach and at his sides. I stopped just short of his chest and used his hips as an anchor, closing my eyes and allowing my shoulders to move with the music.

  Not long after, I felt another body behind me, this one was softer, and with it came an exciting, enchanting scent: female perspiration, cinnamon and smoke. A pair of hands rested on my hips, moving higher to the ticklish spot on my ribs. Laura spoke in my ear, “What you got here, Viv?”

  I turned so that Jasper was behind me. She had changed to shiny black pants, a white tube top, and tall shiny yellow boots. I threw my arms around her and yelled, “This is Jasper,” and I reached down and pulled his head to me, my hand burying in the slick hair at the base of his neck. I liked the way it felt there. I yelled in his ear, “Laura.”

  He leaned in farther and yelled to her, “Nice to meet you.” He raised his eyebrows and put his fingers to his lips, and we followed him out to the alley. He offered us both cigarettes and we each took one.

  “I thought you quit,” I said to Laura as she blew a thick stream of smoke off to the side. The filter of the cigarette shone with dark lipstick.

  “I did,” she said and grinned.

  “I enjoyed your performance,” Jasper said after he blew out his first drag.

  “Thank you very much.” Laura used her formal voice.

  I leaned up against the brick wall, scratching my lower back as I got settled as comfortably as I could.

  “I love you,” a short brunette came up to gush at Laura before another guy wearing a white top hat dragged her back inside.

  She waved. “Thanks so much.”

  “So how do you know Viv?” Laura asked after a couple minutes of catching our breath, smoking, taking in the comings and goings at the doorway.

  I waited to see what Jasper would say. Laura and I gazed at him expectantly. He glanced at me, then said, “Well, all right.” He shifted his weight before he spoke, and I felt guilty remembering there was actually quite a bit of history that would be awkward for him to explain.

  I jumped in before he could start. “My mom brought me to one of his readings, then he followed me here after that.”

  “Ahhh, what were you reading?” Laura asked.

  “A little bit from a book I wrote…”

  “And you read from that old speech,” I said, and leaned toward Laura. “He kept stopping to correct himself.” I faced Jasper again.

  He grimaced. “Yeah.”

  I regretted that and shot him an apologetic smile.

  “So you're a writer too?” Laura looked to him.

  “Too?” Jasper looked to me.

  I studied the pavement. Revealing that I did something all the people I knew would say he did better than me, put him back in some
position of power again and I didn't like it, nor was I ready to end my adventure just yet. The fact that Laura made a show of fawning over me made my skin warm and set a glow in my stomach. Laura put her arm around me and said, “You didn't know Viv's famous?”

  “I didn't,” he said and studied me with a wary smile.

  “She's a celebrity around here.”

  I shook my head. “Let's go back inside.”

  “No way.” He stopped me with one hand on my upper arm. “I want to know.”

  I glanced at Laura who wore a stumped expression, not understanding what the big deal was. Maybe there really wasn't one.

  “I publish short stories…mostly, uh…gay erotic…and I have written a couple novels. What people around here probably mostly know me for though is my blog.” I shrugged, hoping the subject would vanish.

  “Shit,” Laura burst in. “She got written up in the Stranger, and what else, there was that blogger…oh yeah, and that big bondage website has your last book up on the first page.”

  “Wow, that's pretty good. Your father must have been really proud,” Jasper said.

  I pulled free of his arm. “Um, no.” I stressed this and gave him a long look, ready to glare at him, then saw the way he looked at me—open and happy—and changed my tone at the last minute. “He wasn't very involved in my life.”

  “Fathers. Major fucking drag,” Laura added and tossed her finished cigarette on the ground and stamped it out with one bright yellow-booted foot.

  I followed Laura back inside, Jasper followed behind me, leaned over and said in my ear, “I didn't mean to upset you…I just had no idea.”

  I reached around and slid my hand along the back of his shoulders, delighted to feel a slight bulge under the expensive fabric. When we got to the dance floor, Laura got lost in the crowd, and I spun to face him. I put both hands on the back of his head, burying the ends of my fingers in the short hairs there and said, “Just dance with me okay?”

  “I can do that,” he said in my ear, then looked over my head and gently pushed us farther into the crowd.

  He danced close to me for some time after that, letting me take him wherever I wanted, until Laura came to stand beside me. She slid next to me, ran her hands down my side, all the way to my knees, then came close and said, “Want to see my room?”

  I looked to her, then to Jasper; I didn't want to end things just yet.

  “Sounds good,” I said and hoped it was.

  “Bring him along. Your boy Eric is coming, Barbara said she'd meet us there and few others.”

  He bent down again so I could speak in his ear. “You want to come with me to Laura's? A party?”

  He stopped, seemed to consider and nodded. “I can sleep on the plane tomorrow.”

  We followed Laura out the front door and into an orange cab. Eric and the tall Asian guy ran behind us. Jasper held the door open for them. Eric hopped in the back with us, the new guy sat in the front.

  The world had suddenly grown quiet, my ears felt like they'd just been unplugged though the opposite was true. Eric stroked his new friend's arm and said, “Alan, this is everybody. Everybody, Alan.”

  Alan nodded and gestured to Laura. “You were great up there.” Then he turned to me. “You too.”

  Laura said, “I might have to take her with me when I leave.” Leaning over me, she asked, “Would you mind, Jasper?”

  “I don't know,” he said, looking down at me. I turned back and felt I should say something, but my mind was a total blank.

  “Did you see the way that little guy was pinching his nipples all night?” Eric said.

  “Oh, I know,” Alan jumped in, “I think he was on X. Had to be.”

  “Crazy,” Laura said absently and gazed out the window. I felt her warm hand on my thigh. The sensation sent shivers through me, and I went hot wondering who else was watching, but everyone continued to chat until we reached the hotel. I was vividly conscious of the way Jasper sat, his long arm slung around the back of the seat. I was almost in his lap, and could feel everything about him—bony knees, long slender legs, tight torso—and when I lay my head back to rest it on his arm, he moved it and I felt the muscle there. The streetlights zoomed by; I took in the sideways view of the passing buildings in this way. I could see part of Jasper's face, the feathering of his hair on his forehead and temple, then he was looking down at me with an easy, relaxed expression. My arms went weak. It was good to see him this way.

  The suite featured windows with views of dark water, mountains and city lights that twinkled from below. The room itself radiated a quiet glamour with thick, cream-colored carpets and dark, textured wallpaper. Laura moved past me, slowly, sliding her flat open hand across my lower back, before padding past the sunken living room with views of the city and through the area with the crisp wooden dining table and chairs. The bedroom was grand with more views and a king-sized bed covered in a white comforter that must have been at least six inches thick.

  A knock sounded on the door and at intervals other people arrived, crowding the place within the hour. Eric, Jasper and I sat in the living room. Eric and Jasper talked, I mainly listened and felt myself slipping into a light drowsy place until Alan came over and sat on Eric's lap.

  Eric patted him on the ass and then the two of them looked to us. Alan said, “So you should get paid to dance little girl.”

  “We studied for a while. Tell him, Viv. You gave it all up to write stories that only freaks like us can appreciate,” Eric said.

  “That's not true, I have a few others. You just don't get to read them.”

  “You studied dancing?” Jasper asked, and sat back to listen.

  “We both did. I was hopelessly in love with him,” I fluttered my eyes at him, he made an irritated face, and stroked Alan on the thigh. “Things got weird, when was it, junior year?” I left Eric the floor.

  He didn't respond, only fixed me with a firm stare and adjusted his face. I waved him off.

  Jasper said, “Why didn't you continue by yourself, or find someone else to dance with?”

  “Once he was out, and I knew we weren't going to dance off into the sunset, it wasn't the same.”

  “Just like that you gave it up?” Jasper said.

  I studied Eric for a moment, expecting some sort of inspiration to come from his expression. “I always wanted to write. You can't read as much and love books as much as I do, as my family raised me to do, without at some point wanting to try it as well. The thing was that my mother desperately wanted me to be this ballroom champion. My dad too. He believed women can't write as well as men, so until I was older, I figured it wasn't an option. I danced to make my parents happy.

  “Anyway, when Eric finally came out, the dancing went back to where it should have been: a hobby. We still have fun with it.”

  “We won a few competitions though,” Eric added with a direct gaze.

  “Yes. Amateur,” I stressed, and Eric threw up his hands like I'd blown some big secret.

  “It was!” I said.

  Jasper watched me, and then smiled a slow smile and said, “You and Laura were surreal, serendipitous, salacious, and wow, like nothing I've ever seen before. Obviously you still enjoy dancing.”

  My head swam, the unreality of the entire evening catching up to me.

  “So Jasper, tell me please, why is it that straight men like to watch two girls make out but seem to be physically sickened by watching two men lock lips?” Eric asked, peeking out from behind Alan's arms.

  “Oh, boy,” I said and jumped up and headed to the kitchen. I brought a whole bottle of vodka over, plus two glass bottles of orange juice.

  Jasper spoke while I made drinks for all of us.

  “I guess it has something to do with evolution?” he said uncertainly. “I am probably not the best person to comment on the topic.” He leaned forward as if he were going to begin a lecture.

  “Don't get serious and academic, just break it down, nice and easy,” I said, and as I spoke I slipped my
jacket from my shoulders, enjoying the way I felt both the clean air touch my skin after so many hours in the moist fabric, and the way his eyes darkened when he watched me.

  “Look who's the diva tonight?” Eric said and everyone but Jasper laughed.

  “Do you really think we're physically sick watching you all make out?” Jasper asked.

  “Hell yes! I cannot tell you how many guys I've watched over there try to hide it.” I turned to Eric. “Though I say it is beautiful to watch anyone making out. It reaffirms my faith in the human spirit, or whatever it is that makes us be nice to each other…oh yeah,” I let this sit for a second then said, “lust.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement at that.

  Jasper swallowed extra hard on the last sip of his drink. He raised his eyebrows.

  An old dance number by the Weather Girls started playing and Alan tipped his head back. “I love this song!”

  I stayed focused on Jasper. “Tell me about watching me dance.”

  “Well…you were so free, you had my full attention. You didn't look like all those people watching you bothered you at all. I am terrified every time I have to speak in front of even ten people, and there you were moving like you were channeling the universe.”

  For a moment I didn't know what to say, that last phrase was familiar. I sat staring at him then remembered to sip on my drink.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “You're not supposed to ask me that.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why does that matter?”

  “I'm thirty-six. All my life I've been the young one. You make me feel like I'm from another planet.”