CHASING LIFE

by Steve Jovanoski

  ‘Yes.’ Maria smiled back at him.

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  ‘She asked whether you really are an actor. I said yes, from Australia.’ Maria seemed proud, as if Dave were her catch for the evening.

  ‘Well,’ he paused, ‘let’s not talk about it, if that’s all right.’ He raised his glass at the nearby table, and they responded with nods and beaming smiles. What the hell, he thought to himself.

  The music volume in the small bar kept rising to the point where they couldn’t hear themselves think, let alone talk. A back-and-forth shouting match ensued until Dave had had enough.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he shouted over the din. ‘It’s too loud!’ Maria nodded in agreement.

  Out in the open air they realised just how loud the bar had been by the ringing in their ears. By then, it was 3:00 in the morning. Most venues were closing up and kebab outlets were picking up the crowds. Dave and Maria walked into one last bar where R&B music was playing, but ten minutes later they left. The place seemed like a sinking ship where only a handful of desperate guys still hung out. He felt sorry for them but was glad he wasn’t in their shoes.

  Dave had taken the initiative to lead and Maria was happy to tag along with any of his suggestions. It seemed like she was his, and all he had to do was make the move. They hung around outside, wondering what to do while he contemplated how to move to the next stage and get hands-on with Maria. His confidence was at a high, and he had no inhibitions, so what was stopping him? It was the fear he may not be able to go through with it. He was scared he’d back out of it again as he’d done before.

  ‘Let’s just go for a walk,’ he suggested.

  ‘Okay.’ Maria happily obliged. Make a move, Dave, he said to himself. But do what? How should he just turn to her and kiss her? Surely she wouldn’t back away—if she did, that would destroy his confidence entirely. But why would that happen? She was still there with him. Before he had the chance to think up another useless excuse and further waste time, Maria stopped. Oh no, he thought; she’s going home.

  Maria grabbed him by the arm and drew Dave into a little side street where they found a sheltered door that led into a house. It was away from the bars and in complete privacy. She braced her back against the door and pulled Dave into her warm body. He was completely enveloped and was quick to respond, placing one leg between her thighs and pulling her even closer to him. He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest. They kissed. Her full lips were moist, and she moved her tongue slowly inside his mouth. Dave ventured with his hands all over her back and down her large buttocks. He slowly slid one hand underneath her top and felt the strap of her bra over her skin. Their kissing became more intense.

  So far he hadn’t encountered any resistance, so he pushed on to the front of her bra. He slid his hand under her brassiere and cupped her breasts, feeling her erect nipple between his fingers. Maria groaned, and her hips brushed against him. He pressed a knee right between her legs and made her groan further, sliding his leg back and forth. He took his hand away from her butt and tried to slide it through the front of her tight jeans. Maria pulled back and shook her head with a smile and a little wave of her finger.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said and began anew, now kissing her gently. A moment later he tried the same action again. This time he rubbed her slowly on the outside of her jeans. He was totally immersed in the moment. Maria heaved deep breaths, and he felt her heart thumping fast against his chest. With his other hand he ran through her thick curly hair, kissing her passionately with every breath.

  ‘Ouch!’ she yelped. Dave realised he had pulled too hard on her hair.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he apologised once more. She giggled and kissed him again. The morning air was freezing, but the heat they generated between them caused a breakout of sweat. They were so lost in each other they hardly registered the three drunken guys intruding on their space. The guys had lined up against the wall, talking loudly and laughing. A trickle of piss ran at the edges of Dave’s feet and suddenly the smell of urine hit them.

  ‘Ugh,’ Dave cringed, ‘That’s off.’

  One of the intruders noticed the couple huddled in the inner doorway and pointed them out to the others. All three started cheering and urging him on. Maria laughed and buried her head in his chest, hiding away in embarrassment. Dave nodded in their direction with a smile, hiding his annoyance. They finished watering the wall and went on their way, commenting as they walked off.

  ‘How romantic is this?’ He pinched his nose as the smell of piss wafted into his nostrils. Dave took her by the hand, and they jumped over the steaming trails the three left behind. They were back on the main street and virtually alone. It was 4:00 in the morning, but he wasn’t ready to end the night. ‘Why don’t you come to my place?’ he offered hopefully.

  Maria smiled. ‘It’s too soon. I cannot.’

  ‘Why not? I’m here today and gone tomorrow, we probably won’t see each other again,’ he persisted. ‘We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll be a perfect gentleman,’ Dave promised. Maria was mulling it over. It was a good sign, and he kept up his pressure. ‘I’m literally two streets away. Do you know rue Buffon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s five or ten minutes’ walk.’ He could tell she was considering the idea.

  ‘Okay, but I cannot stay long.’

  ‘No problem.’ That was perfectly fine by him.

  The rue Buffon was indeed a ten-minute walk away; however, without a map, and in Dave’s state of mind, it took them half an hour to arrive there. He was bad with directions at the best of times. At one point, the first signs of daylight appeared, and he was worried that Maria would get annoyed and leave. At last, to his relief, the rue Buffon sign came into view, and he picked up the pace. He rushed into the little apartment, and Maria excused herself to go to the bathroom. While she was there, he pulled out the bed and brought out the condoms, placing them within easy reach. There was no guarantee that she would sleep with him, and he had no idea whether he’d go through with it himself—but it was better to be prepared.

  Maria came out of the bathroom refreshed and lay on the bed beside him. Dave swung his arm over her and turned her head gently for a kiss. Things got heated very quickly and layers of clothes were soon being peeled off and thrown around. Dave was undressed within seconds, and he helped Maria with her jeans until she too was naked. As he hovered over her, skin-to-skin, they embraced and pleasured each other.

  ‘Do you have condoms?’ Maria asked. This was the moment—now he’d be tested. He reached over and took one out. His heart thumped faster and faster. This was how he’d felt when he lost his virginity. Maria’s hair was sprawled all over the pillow, and she reminded him a bit of Julia. Dave felt the fear of going through with it. He wasn’t ready. It wasn’t going to happen, again. Maria looked into his eyes as if she’d noticed something was wrong and pulled him close to her. She slid her hands between his legs and guided him inside her.

  They had sex for two hours straight, stopping only to catch their breath. It was obvious it had been a long time for both of them. Maria straddled him, and he threw her in any position he could. She was a large girl but had the right curves all over. Finally, they came to a stop; she was all sexed out, she told him. Dave still had the energy to keep going, but he too was satisfied. Daylight peered through the blinds, and the first footsteps of the morning broke the silence outside. Maria got out of bed, dressed herself, and Dave walked her out to the street.

  ‘Can I have your phone number?’ he asked with a hopeful smirk.

  ‘How about you give me yours?’ Maria said, and entered his name in her phone along with his number.

  She gave him a kiss goodbye. ‘Thank you for tonight, Dave. You really wore me out, I’ll sleep easy,’ she giggled.

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he replied and sent her off.

  Dave slid between the sheets of his still-warm bed as if floating down like a feather. The
dry spell was finally broken, and it was heavenly. He’d overcome a huge challenge, and it was just another step in the right direction. His eyes closed with a smile on his face.

  Chapter 24

  When Dave eventually woke up late Sunday afternoon, he handled his hangover equably. He was cooking beans and bacon, and eggs on toast while whistling his own tuneless song. He felt fantastic. Was it finally happening? Was he moving on from his past?

  The phone rang and he picked up immediately. ‘Bonjour, David à l’appareil,’ he answered, showing off his French.

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘Amy, mon amour.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ she laughed.

  ‘How are you, my love?’

  ‘Well, look at you. Mr Paris!’

  ‘In person. What’s going on?’ Dave asked, hopping up to sit on the kitchen bench.

  ‘Nothing much. Thought I’d see what you’re up to.’

  ‘Cooking lunch, if only you could see it.’ Dave surveyed his half-made meal with satisfaction.

  ‘And what is it that you’re making?’

  ‘Eggs, bacon and beans, mon amour.’

  ‘Charming. You’re in Paris cooking beans.’

  ‘Keeps you going all day, but I better remember to open the door tonight or I’ll suffocate.’ Dave grinned, knowing the reaction he’d get.

  ‘Oh, that’s disgusting,’ Amy replied, right on cue.

  ‘What’s news?’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a shitty day, to be honest and thought of you,’ Amy’s tone immediately switched—suddenly she sounded a bit down.

  ‘Oh, thanks. You associate shitty with Dave.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Amy didn’t sound as though she was in the mood for joking around anymore.

  ‘Before you continue, I’ve got to tell you something that happened to me last night.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mr Paris, Dave, finally got laid.’ He had a huge smirk on his face, and he sat back, waiting for the congratulations.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I got laid. I had sex.’

  ‘Good for you.’ Amy sounded unimpressed.

  ‘What’s with you?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Nothing, I’m happy for you. Who was she?’

  ‘A Portuguese girl I met last night.’

  ‘A one-night stand? I thought you’d be better than that. Do you even remember her name?’

  ‘Well, excuse me, Ms Morality,’ Dave replied defensively. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I had sex before this. I wasn’t about to wait for her parents’ consent. I guess I should be talking to Mike about this.’

  ‘You should.’ Amy snapped. ‘I’m sure he’d want to know every lurid detail.’

  ‘Maybe I will call him.’

  Amy sighed. ‘I’ve gotta go.’

  ‘Wait. What did you have to tell me?’

  ‘Nothing, bye.’ Amy hung up before he got a chance to respond. He’d forgotten to let her know that he’d transferred back the money she had lent him.

  ‘Women!’ he muttered before resuming whistling and stirring his beans.

  After the meal, Dave cleaned up and went for a stroll. It was early evening and he was feeling great. He was in search of a quiet bar where he could have a drink and listen to some live music. This time he opted for The Bastille. It was a twenty-minute walk from his apartment. But the night was warmer than usual, and he enjoyed the scenery. Once he reached The Bastille, he found it to be anything but quiet. Every table in the restaurant was occupied, and every space in the bar was crowded with patrons. A guide was rounding up a group of young Americans on a Contiki tour, struggling to maintain order on account of their drunken state. It was primarily the girls who were loud and obnoxious, Dave observed. They certainly lived up to their boisterous reputation.

  Still, he was curious to see where they ended up, and he followed them at a discreet distance. The guide led through side streets full of little old houses converted into bars. The occasional outburst of, ‘We’re American. Whoohoo!’ made him laugh and feel sorry for the poor guide who had to put up with it.

  They entered a tiny little corner pub and Dave followed. A gust of sauna-like hot air entered his lungs and loud music blared. Bruce Springsteen belted out ‘Born in the USA’ over the speakers. A male MC was standing topless on the bar with a microphone in hand. A collection of flags from all over the world hung from the ceiling, handwritten graffiti in English decorated the walls and, most interesting of all, a pile of bras was adorning the middle of the bar. Bras of all sorts of sizes, shapes and colours were chucked in the overflowing basket for all to see. The floor was flooded with water and the female staff wore bikini tops.

  ‘Would the next three contestants please come up?’ called the MC. Three young girls went to the front of the bar wearing the same plain white T-shirts with no bras underneath. Each introduced herself and the U.S. state she represented. The MC then proceeded to pour a jug of water over the chest of each contestant. The crowd went wild, and Dave immediately thought of the late-night Girls Gone Wild commercials back in Australia. The winner was the one who received the loudest cheer. The losers lost their bras. Most of the girls were a bit chunky, and some even stripped down to their undies even though the rules didn’t require it.

  Dave found the spectacle uninteresting. The whole scene was too loud and in-your-face. He was probably the oldest one there and once again felt out of place, like an old man hanging around a playground. He thought of Mike and took a couple of pictures of the nearly naked girls with his mobile. The idea of Mike seeing the wet T-shirt competition made him chuckle. He’d be on the phone as soon as he saw them, Dave was sure.

  Dave left before the competition was over and set out to find a quiet bar, like he originally intended. He felt a tinge of envy when he came across a pretty couple engrossed in each other. Tonight was one of those nights. Erin was in Paris somewhere; he wondered what she was up to. We could be one of those couples, he thought. There were so many places he could take her; he’d come across so many romantic little cafés and hidden nooks, places with the perfect atmosphere for lovers.

  But instead of being lost in the eyes of a lover, he was lost on the streets of Paris, like a dog that just couldn’t get enough of pissing on fire hydrants. He mulled over his experience while searching for a suitable venue. There was no point dwelling over it, even though he was basically asking for these thoughts of loneliness by exposing himself to places like these. The nightlife was for groups of friends and couples. People like him, by themselves, were on the periphery—taking a glance at a world they wanted a desperate part in. Occasionally they were invited in, like he was in Hong Kong, but most of the time they could only watch.

  After walking for half an hour, Dave’s choice of bars was dwindling. It was midnight, and he walked through one last set of side streets. He remembered the pictures he’d just taken and wrote a message to Mike on his mobile. ‘A Wet T-shirt Comp’, he labelled it, and sent it off. He was smiling as he pressed the send button. No more than five minutes went by before his phone started ringing.

  ‘I know this will cost me money, but I had to call,’ Mike said.

  Dave was laughing. ‘Did you like the pics?’

  ‘What the hell are you up to? Where do you find these places?’

  ‘Just ran into it.’

  ‘I just started work and I get this? You’re a cruel man.’

  ‘Sorry, mate.’

  ‘Spewing I’m not there.’ Mike sounded like he was salivating on the other end.

  ‘I’ve gotta tell you what happened last night.’

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘I finally picked up and killed the dry spell.’

  ‘No shit? You gotta tell me all about it, in detail please. Email me,’ Mike insisted.

  ‘I shall do so, my dear friend.’

  ‘Before you go, have you spoken to Amy?’

  ‘I did earlier,’ Dave said.

  ‘Did she tell you wha
t happened?’

  ‘No. Why? What’s happened?’ In one of the lanes across the street Dave noticed a bunch of trendy-looking people socialising in front of a bar. The sign above it said ‘Suzanna’, and he could hear lounge music coming from it. He started to walk toward it.

  ‘She broke up with her boyfriend,’ Mike said.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Dave stopped walking and focussed on the conversation. That’s what she wanted to tell me, he realised.

  ‘Yeah, I found out yesterday.’

  ‘Did she break it off?’ Dave asked.

  ‘She did,’ Mike said, ‘but you know Amy. She keeps everything to herself. I couldn’t get much out of her.’

  Dave felt rotten. She’d had an enormous burden weighing her down, and he’d been oblivious, boasting about his one-night stand.

  ‘She hasn’t been doing too well for a while now,’ added Mike.

  ‘I had no idea it was that serious. I talk to her all the time. She didn’t tell me,’ Frustrated that she’d kept so much to herself, Dave raised his voice. After all he’d shared with her, why had she kept it from him? He’d let her have it next time he spoke to her, he vowed.

  ‘Like I said, it’s Amy. She’ll help everyone else but won’t ask for it herself.’

  ‘Where is she staying?’

  ‘She moved into her own apartment. But I think it’s temporary. She wants to buy her own place.’

  ‘Yeah, she told me about it. Thanks, I’ll give her a call,’ Dave sighed.

  ‘No worries. Take care.’ Mike hung up and Dave immediately dialled her work number. It rang out till it cut off. He tried her personal number, but that too rang out and went to her voicemail. He left Amy an urgent message to call him.

  He wondered what went on in her life. Obviously she hadn’t been happy, but why hadn’t she told him? Why hide such a thing from her closest friends? The mellow mood he’d been in was spoilt. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself until he knew she was all right. Dave stood in front of Suzanna, the bar he’d noticed earlier. He decided to go in for a drink while waiting for Amy to call back. He thought about her more often than usual. He didn’t know why they really broke up all those years ago. Amy was great company, a great friend and one attractive woman in her own right. It was a combination of being immature and uncompromising, a trait associated with the youth.