by Oriana Small
It was difficult to drag Tyler away from the free dope and new acquaintances. Nothing gave him a better time, other than sex of course. He had a second wind, but the three of us girls were tired and wrecked. It was past four in the morning. Hannah and Carmelita got into a cab for Mandalay Bay. Another cab took Tyler and me to the Luxor. We smelled like tar. Our breath was bad. Our skin was sticky. Tyler wanted a drink, so we got a little table at one of the casino bars. I sat and waited while he went and got our vodka tonics. The ecstasy was wearing off, but I’d done some coke in the cab. My mind was straightening out.
Tyler came back with our cocktails and sat down in front of me. “Ori, you know what I’ve never done, and always wanted to do?” He looked into my eyes, trying to be as charming as ever. It wasn’t effective. Normally, Tyler could make me melt with just a glance of his big, brown eyes and their long, curled-up lashes. Now, his eyes were red, half-open, and had dark grey circles underneath. He looked like hell. There were red spots on his skin, and his big, pouty lips were dry, cracked, and peeling.
“What, Tyler? What have you never done?” I entertained him.
“I just talked to this girl at the bar, and she’s an escort. I want to get her to come up to our room for an hour.”
“An escort? Like a hooker? No, Tyler! Why do you want to do that?” I was appalled.
“To fuck her! Both of us with her. Come on,” his face smiling still. He was not reading me.
“No, Tyler. I wouldn’t touch her. She could have fucked a hundred other people tonight. She could have AIDS, and we wouldn’t even know. This isn’t porn.”
Tyler got serious. He tried to convince me another way. “Ori, this is something that I’ve always wanted to do—ever since I was a kid—and have never done. I want to try it at least once, and I want us to do it together. You should be glad that I want to share everything with you. Most guys just go out and do this shit without telling anyone.”
My face twisted up in rage. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he need a hooker? Wasn’t I enough? We did porn and had sex with friends all the time, and now even with strangers at parties sometimes. This was too much. Was he crazy—or was I? I was too wasted to trust even my own reasoning. What if Tyler was making sense? Maybe there was something wrong with me for being so judgmental about a hooker.
“Listen, Ori. Just this one time I want to know how it feels to get a prostitute in Vegas. Please do this with me. Please tell me you love me and you want me to be happy.” He now had his hands on mine and spoke with intense concentration.
“Fine. I don’t want to hold you back from this important experience. You should do it, then. Go get her. I don’t care. Don’t expect me to touch her, though. That’s all for you.” My consent.
“All right! I knew you’d be into it! I love you, baby, thank you!” Tyler raced off to the bar to negotiate. I sat at the little table next to the slot machines and rolled my eyes. He came back a couple minutes later, alone. For a moment, I gratefully thought it wasn’t going to happen.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s going to come up to our room. I gave her the number. She’ll be there on the hour,” he replied. Tyler stood there for a second before he clasped his hands together and pleaded, “Baby, could you loan me the money, please?”
“What?” I spat out my drink onto the table.
“Baby, I’m sorry. Will you please pull out three hundred dollars from the ATM so I can pay her? She only takes cash, of course. And I’ve already gone over my limit of what I can take out in a day. Please? I will pay you back as soon as possible.”
“Tyler,” I sighed, “if you can’t afford a prostitute, then you shouldn’t get one. Did you ever think of that?” I was calmer than expected after having my boyfriend ask me to pull out cash for a whore.
“Look, I thought we shared money. I would pay for it, but I’ve taken out too much tonight.” His tone took on a new nastiness. “Besides, I would give you money for anything you wanted, no matter what it was. Because I love you. Now, are you going to do the same for me? Do you love me?”
Not this again. The love card—his ace. “Yes, okay. Yes. I love you. I’ll take out the money for you.”
We walked by an ATM on the way to the elevators. I took out three hundred and twenty. Tyler wanted to give the prostitute a tip.
We waited in our room for her to show up. Tyler took his clothes off and started the shower.
“You’re going to take a shower for her?”
“Yeah. I want to be clean. I feel disgusting after being out all night.”
“It doesn’t matter what you smell like to her. She’s probably nasty. She has to fuck you anyway.”
“Ori! Why are you being so mean? She’s not nasty. I just want to take a shower. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Tyler shut the bathroom door.
It was five in the morning and the sun was faintly coming in under the curtains. I chain-smoked and pulled out the contents of the mini bar. I lined up the little bottles of Absolut, Jack Daniel’s, Captain Morgan, Beefeater, and Chivas. I would need them all for what I was about to endure. Of course I was going to make a big deal out of him getting ready for this hooker. Tyler never showered before going to bed with me.
Knock knock. Tyler opened the door to our hotel room. A blonde walked in. She was about five foot four with heels on. Her hair was bleached and long, but her black roots were long too. She wasn’t a ball of personality. She was thick in the thighs but had fit calves and ankles. She was built like a waitress. Her boobs were big and sagging a little. These tits definitely nursed something in the recent past. Her tummy had stretch marks from pregnancy, but mostly her skin was tight, pale and milky. Nothing was wrong with her face. I searched for a missing tooth or a lazy eye, something, somewhere, but I had to admit she was attractive.
The woman was dead inside, strictly business. Tyler gave her the three hundred and offered her some of my cocaine and alcohol, but she declined. She was on duty. This was not a fantasy for her, just a job. The graveyard shift. I didn’t catch her name because there wasn’t a formal introduction. Her clothes had come off within the first two minutes. Tyler laid on his back and she took off her skirt and top to reveal her white flesh and black lingerie. A bra and panties from Victoria’s Secret.
The hooker didn’t suck Tyler’s dick. He asked her to, and she replied that she didn’t do that. I looked at Tyler and repeated her.
“She doesn’t do that. She won’t even suck your dick. Nice three hundred dollars, Tyler.” I was pounding the bottles of booze and smoking cigarette upon cigarette. I sat cross-legged at a table across the room from the bed. I was still dressed in my nightclub wear. My makeup was still on, and I felt like I looked way hotter than the hooker. I cackled at them and heckled. Tyler and his whore, a one hour comedy special!
The prostitute didn’t give a shit about me or what I said. Her mind was somewhere else. Her panties came off and Tyler felt her legs up and down. Her legs were bruised. She rolled a condom onto Tyler’s cock. His cock was hard. He was actually turned on by this.
“She isn’t even looking at you. She’s looking at the wall. Wow. You must be pretty excited,” I called out. I took a long drag of my cigarette. I blew it straight in their direction, with force. The sun was now up over the desert floor and shining brightly outside. I could see how thick with smoke the air inside the room was. It was foul.
The prostitute barely moved and was silent. She just rocked her hips halfheartedly with his cock stuck inside. No moans, no flailing arms, no gripping fingers. He wasn’t allowed to choke her or spit on her. “Is this the experience you’ve always wanted, Tyler?” I taunted.
Tyler ignored me. He had to focus or he would lose his hard-on and not be able to finish. He had to get his money’s—my money’s—worth. He nudged her off of him and put her in doggy position. His hands grabbed her ass and he slapped it.
She let out a sound for that. It wasn’t encouragement. She looked over her shoulder
and said, “Do not do that again.”
Tyler started pounding the woman and making noises like he was really into it. I knew he was full of shit. “You’re faking it. Aren’t you? That can’t be any good. This is so fucking stupid! And a waste of money, isn’t it?”
I was getting to him now. Tyler couldn’t block out my voice anymore. He looked at me with frustration as he tried his best. Tyler pulled his latex penis out of the hooker’s vagina. He got her on her back again and went in missionary. “Come here,” he said.
“Are you talking to me? I told you I wouldn’t touch her. No, you can do it all on your own.” I was drunk and defiant.
“Ori, come here!” He needed me to help him stay turned on. The hooker was a bust. She just lay there, dead. I would have to bail him out of this lame idea, same as I paid for it. Without a remark, I went over to the bed. I took off my top and started kissing him as he fucked her. My hands were all over him in a drunken fervor, like he was the antidote to my poisoning. Tyler came to life and nailed the lazy bitch hard and fast. He was going fast enough to come. I knew his body like it was my own. When I sensed his climax, I dropped my face down to where her twat was. I didn’t touch her. I could see her head was turned toward the window, gazing emptily out toward nothing.
Tyler laid a couple more strokes into the warm corpse and pulled out.
“Aaahh, aaahh! Yeeeaaahhhhsssss! Yeeeeesssss!” he shouted. He snapped off the condom and sprayed cum all over my face and into my waiting, open mouth. It was a hard orgasm because of all the drugs he’d ingested over the course of the night.
The prostitute rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up her panties and shirt. The bra never even came all the way off. “Well, thank you guys. I hope you have a good stay. If you need me again, I’ll be at the bar tomorrow night. Take care.” It was the most she’d said.
Tyler gave her the extra twenty dollars. There was nothing left for us to do or say. That was it.
From 7:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., Tyler and I slept. Our bodies needed to recover from all of the abuse. We checked out late from the Luxor and drove the rented Mustang convertible over to Mandalay Bay. All of our friends were lounging by the pool, sipping cocktails. It was a late summer afternoon in Las Vegas. Tanned and sexed-out men and women swaggered everywhere. A busy weekend for partying.
Nelson wanted to drive home to LA It was impossible for him to think of anything but the porno business and making money. He had a new agency to get off the ground and it consumed him. Hannah’s fun and contentment was a happy accident when it came to Nelson and his pursuit of making money. They did what he said, and she always went along. She didn’t argue with her boyfriend like I did with mine. I thought they were some kind of perfect couple. I didn’t wish to be in their shoes, but they did seem to have a system that worked. He cared for her in his own way, I guess, and she loved him. That met the limits of my comprehension of complex relationships during the time I was with Tyler. At the time, I thought that all relationships consisted of obsession. Like mine.
Cait and Jeff left with Nelson and Hannah. Carmelita rode home with us. We invited her to come over to our apartment and go out later that night back in LA. Though she was from Brazil, she lived in London. From what she told us about her childhood, the poor girl had it rough. She was an orphan raised by a cruel aunt who beat her. At sixteen, after a bad motorcycle accident, she forged immigration documents and made her way to the United Kingdom. She got a job at a McDonald’s cleaning floors. When she learned English, she was promoted to assistant manager. Then she started stripping, got fired from McDonald’s, and began to seek out porn.
She hired Nelson to be her agent and she stayed with him and Hannah while doing porn scenes in LA Tyler and I listened to Carmelita tell her life story as we inched along the road. The traffic was beyond terrible.
I sat behind the wheel and cursed. “I can’t believe how bad this is. It’s Monday night. The highway should be empty!”
Carmelita had been in the passenger seat, but as the traffic got worse she moved to the backseat with Tyler. They got quiet. Then I heard kissing sounds and a female moan. I looked in the rearview mirror. They were making out. Tyler’s hands were on her tits. I heard a belt being unbuckled.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d had it. They kept going at it, and I just gripped the wheel. The car was going nowhere. My boyfriend fucked this new friend of ours. We were hundreds of miles from home. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I said nothing. What could I say at that point? It was absurd.
It took us over seven hours to drive from Las Vegas to Hollywood. There was so much traffic because it was Labor Day Weekend. I had no idea. Nationally observed holidays had come to mean nothing to me. I rarely checked the mailbox. I hardly ever got up before three in the afternoon—and after this misadventure, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get up again.
Tyler and Carmelita fucked and she sucked his dick for four of those seven hours. They cuddled in the interims when his cock needed a rest. But she kept her hand on it, stroking it the entire time. Halfway home, I began to hate her. At first I was only mad at Tyler, but couldn’t remain so for long. He was my boyfriend. So I shifted my rage to her. She took advantage of a tempestuous relationship under odd circumstances. I dried my tears and toughed it out, letting her get fucked by the man I loved and lived with.
At last, we arrived at Nelson’s place. I popped the trunk and gave Carmelita a firm hug. Tyler kissed her goodnight, deeply with tongue, and we left her outside on the curb.
Chapter Nineteen
Liabilities
DESIREE came to LA for another visit. She needed to get away from home and be cheerful. Her life had become very sad in Houston. She was still seventeen and not going to high school. Her crystal meth use had finally gotten out of control. Little Desiree had become the hardened veteran neighborhood meth dealer, selling to friends and strangers all over her suburban Texas town. Her mother kept wondering why the heavy-duty rolls of tin foil would disappear out of her pantry.
Though still seventeen, Desiree had aged since the last time we saw her. Maybe it only seemed so because she’d kicked meth. She put on about fifteen pounds. She looked good. Seventeen years old, and sexy. The extra pounds filled her chest and hips out, and her skin was amazing. There wasn’t a trace of the old cracked-out Desiree. We took her home to our apartment and began drinking and doing lines of coke with her. Coke was okay to do with her. It was crystal meth she had a problem with.
Since our place was so small and we did not have a couch, Desiree slept in our bed with us. It wasn’t awkward. Sharing the bathroom was much worse.
One night, Tyler introduced Desiree to our neighbor, Oliver. He lived on the other side of our bathroom wall. Being our neighbor required a lot of tolerance. We stayed up all night and stomped in and out of the front door at odd hours. Both of us threw things at the walls and on the floor during arguments. Tyler borrowed Oliver’s dishes because we’d given up on cleaning ours. I don’t think we ever returned them on our own accord. We had loud friends who’d come over to do drugs and have sex with me. We indiscreetly/openly talked about porno. But Oliver liked it. He was charmed by us. Who wouldn’t have found us interesting? When Oliver first moved into our building, Tyler made introductions on his own reconnaissance. I never could tell if Tyler was just planning a threesome or a regular friendship.
I didn’t get excited over new relationships like Tyler did. My life was already full of people and things I could hardly handle. We had lots of friends and all of them were crazy. Oliver was a quiet sort of wall-flowery type. Nothing about him was strikingly attractive, and still nothing stood out as particularly ugly. There are a million men like Oliver in Los Angeles trying to do the same thing—direct movies.
Tyler and Oliver got to be pretty good friends. I barely noticed him most of the time. He began to do coke with us, and with Ernesto from downstairs. Our apartment building became quite the place to party. Oliver met Desiree during one such party.
When it came time to crash, Desiree didn’t want to sleep with Tyler and me again. We hadn’t done any ecstasy, so we weren’t feeling the need for the innocent, and, of course, non-sexual, fuzzy, family-time cuddling that it often fueled. I tried to accommodate her by letting her know that Tyler and I would sleep on the floor. She was our guest. I wanted her to be comfortable in our home. But she didn’t want to sleep in our bed alone, either. She wanted to sleep on Oliver’s couch, in his living room.
Tyler didn’t think it was weird at all for Desiree to stay with the much older Oliver. “It’s fine. Oliver’s all right. He’s our friend, and his place is bigger. He offered, and she wants to. She can make up her own mind.”
Tyler knows best, I thought. He’s the big brother, not me. It gave us a chance to do more lines without her and have sex that night.
The next morning, we woke up early to Desiree coming in through the front door. She didn’t say much. She just grabbed a couple of things out of her bags and went in the bathroom to shower. I pulled on a pair of purple sweatpants and did some lines to wake up. I didn’t have to convince Tyler to get out of bed because his nicotine addiction did that for him. Just like I had to have my morning lines of cocaine, Tyler needed a cigarette as soon as he opened his eyes. He was so hooked on tobacco that it would wake him up at five or six in the morning, even if we’d just gone to bed at three or four. I smoked, too, but he did it too much.
That night, we took Desiree to a Halloween costume party at Bent Brent’s house, whose ass and feet I licked for one of Pro Trusion’s scenes. I’d done many more scenes with him since. Desiree wanted to dress up in one of my stripper outfits. I wasn’t sure about it, but Tyler said it was okay.