Easter 2010

He said it was for nostolgia. Alone on a rainy Easter Sunday. Once he had been a regular, but in the 90’s there were more men in the hallways that wanted to suck your cock then look at naked women. In my mind I pictured them as small yet wirey blonde boys with blue baby doll eyes. Stooped against the black walls attentive packages in neon bike shorts. Maybe thats too 80's?
That has changed. Now it seems there are only men who stare absent mindedly, who don’t speak English, but definitely want to look at naked women as opposed to sucking you off. Unfortunatley they don't seem to want to pay.
I was glad he had returned and told him so. He slipped in money without me even asking. So I took off my clothes but too fast.
He said “I want you to touch yourself”
I told him that was more, and he gave more.
He said “Take off your glasses”
And I did
He said “come closer”
And I did
He said “No, come closer” and wiggled his finger
And I did
My fingers were shoved into the folds of myself. Yet he took his time and stared into the contours of my face and the convex of my eyes. He was reading my childhood freckles that has returned in the california sun as if they were the lines on my palms. I smiled and gazed back with heavy lids. He opened his mouth wide like he was going to swallow me. His lips quivered then closed. He did it again then again, like he was sucking on my face, the cough drop to his soul. It reminded me of something out of "Kafka on the Shore", a Murakami transedence. At any moment Colenol Sanders would be showing up and offering me the prostitue of my dreams.
He said his cock didn't work anymore. Type two diabetes.
He swallowed my face again. I felt light and like a child. Enveloped in something I can not explain.
The timer buzzed.
He said you have beautiful eyes, invest in contacts.