A.
So, I've kinda put off this post... rather series of posts... because I'm not sure how to apporoach it. Chronologically, it's about due... but I didn't write it for mass consumption. For those interested, Aerie is lustycrickett and also A in my qeox journal. This is how I met her.
Aerie is a force of nature. I met her at a Seattle santacon in Dec' 99, the same year I found canadian debauchery rivals all the american induced fantasies of what debauchery could ever be. That year, we had a tradition (a one night tradition, but tradition nonetheless) of hot girl santas doing strip teases on public transportation. We eventually got kicked off of one bus for shenanigans “Alright! I want all your red santa asses off of my bus right NOW!!!!” Later, on a completely different bus, one of these Santas turned out to be a domination aficionado and she picked me out of the crowd and said “lick my boots!” I had never licked a boot, and never really considered it an option... so I thought “What the hell, I've drank things fouler than licking boots. And she's pretty god damned sexy, what's the worst that could happen?” And I did it. The night went on and that was that. June and I ended up hitchhiking back to one of our houses, I can't remember which, but it was probably hers. The driver was absolutely stoked that he was driving santa home after a night of drunken fuckeryness.
The next day, the Santas met at the Alibi room, hung over, dirty and their costumes stained with evil and antisocial notions from the night before. I saw the Santa whose boots I had licked and said “Hey, I licked your boots last night.” This set off many things in Aerie's mind. As any quality, professional drunk is accustomed to, her friend had told her about the previous night, with little to no help from her memory. “Some guy licked your boots on a bus.” “Ewwww, he's probably old and fat and creepy.” Since that's the typical type of person that dose that sort of thing. And then, sexy as fuck me walks up and tells her that it was me and she is floored. “Can I buy you a drink?” She says. And I, say "Of course."
We run and santa (verb) and drunk (verb) all day and most of the night. The santas stop off at the 5 point and many santa panties are thrown onto the taxedermied moose head's antlers. Aerie entertained a table of santas by relating stories of the sordid domination trade that she plied, stories of pathetic corporate executives that spent all day being the completely dominant alpha crap but only really wanted to be humiliated and beaten. And they paid well for the privilege. I wanted to show her how my Jesus T-shirt glowed in the dark so we went to the womens' bathroom and unscrewed the light bulb. She sat on my lap and we made out till someone else entered and needed to use the facilities. We screwed the light bulb back in and apologized, but the woman said “NO! Don't apologize to me! You 2 have fun. Don't let me interrupt.” I drew a burningman symbol on the wall of the stall and Aerie was very impressed with the notion that I had been and will be going. “We should meet there...”
Eventually we left the bathroom and rejoined the rest of the santas just as they were about to trounce off to another locale to shock the straights and get free drinks. Aerie was ready to go home though. She started tackling stantas and making out with them, screaming obscenities and getting a little “over the top.” As they say. So Will (her host in Seattle) and Miss Rivka and I decided to taker her home to Will's. We stumbled down toward Rivka's SUV, but Aerie refused to walk unless we were all singing “Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire,” one of the fucked up christmas interpretations in the Satacon songbook. But none of us knew all the words so we just sang the chorus over and over again, because, when Aerie doesn't want to move, she does not move. She's what we call “willfull.”
We got to Will's house and Rivka puts Aerie into another room and somehow talks her out of being completely mind fucked crazy for long enough to get to sleep. Which kind of chagrins me because I was thinking of maybe having a little bit of organ rubbing. But Rivka comes out of the room and says “Look I do this for a living, I deal with these people and I know what's best for them. And right now, you are NOT what's best for her.” And leaves. What a bitch. Later I'll find out the full extent.
Will is a good guy, a computer geek and a druggie. The twain usually meet in good people, he let me sleep on the couch.
I woke to a rabid animal tugging at my underwear. Aerie had woken, and knew what she wanted. She probably would have raped me in my sleep if I hadn't woken. But I did wake and we moved toward a manic fuck schedule. Few words were exchanged at first since we both knew pretty much what we wanted and how hard we wanted it (hardest). After the first little pause, there was some talk. “Do you think you'll remember this?” And “You've been checked for STD's, right?” Then I put her on Will's kitchen sink and started fucking her there, while still having this “getting to know you” talk. “You grew up in LA” fuck fuck fuck “No, Albequerque” fuck fuck fuck “Really, what was that like?” fuck fuck fuck “Horrible.” fuck fuck fuck “Did you hear that?” “Shit.” Will's brother had woken up and decided he needed some water from Will's kitchen (the one we were fucking in) so we ran and dove behind the couch while he poured himself a tasty beverage, lingered a bit, and went back to bed. We fucked a while on the floor behind the couch, then we moved in front of the TV, I started getting tired after a few hours and decided to slow down and move off... “Um, excuse me? I'm cumming!” SHIT, I guess I can't stop now, fatigue be damned, I've got a duty here... so we continued for a few more hours, till she fell asleep in the middle of sex. That was weird, it was like fucking a corpse, yet, I knew that she'd be OK with that. In fact, I'd find out later, it was one of her fantasies.
In the morning we got chinese delivery and I got food poisoning from it. Will got his car delivered... Evidently he made a LOT of money from working at microsoft and decided to spend a couple tens of thousands on a sports car. We waited in the parking lot of the King Dome for the semi to arrive. Aerie and I were a little awkward, being sober and not used to interacting in such an inhibited fashion. The semi rolled up and disgorged a big, bad ass black car. Will signed some papers and the car was his. We all got in and he recited a few things about the car that he had read in the marketing papers but that he didn't understand. One thing he pointed out was the metal plaque that had the “designer's” signature on it implanted in the dashboard “That plate costs $5000.00” He said proudly. I'm beginning to feel sick from the food poisoning and this statement sends me over the top... I am completely non-verbal at this point because I don't want to offend him and can't come up with anything especially smart to say, so why should I make fun of someone else's stupidity? It's his money, what the hell. We started driving toward Will's parking garage, he gets around a corner and stalls... “Heh, never drove a stick shift before... heh...” And he gets up to the stop light. Aerie and I are looking at each other like “Oh fucking hell, what have we gotten into here? We should have just left his house and frolicked among the decaying city streets for the last few hours we'd have together.” The light turns green and he stalls again... “Wow,” he says, “$50,000 car and a 25 cent driver.” His attempt at self deprecating humor only exacerbated the situation. He had to call the vehicle equivalent of tech support for his car in the middle of a downtown intersection.... but he was nice.... and I was sick, ready to vomit. I stared out of the window.
“...sounds like a kitten in a dryer...” Aerie was telling me about a Merzbow album she'd heard and I was impressed. But sick. I was terrified that I had made a bad impression in my antisocial sobriety, but told her about June's annual new years party which would be debaucherous and splendid and Aerie said she would attend and we exchanged email addresses while we waited for a car expert to come to Will's aid.
We parted... kissed rather perfuncterorily (word?) and melancholery (again?). I thought “Shit, that's probably the last I'll ever see of her. What can I do to entice her back? She's got every thing going for her in LA and can get anyone she wants to beg at her feet, what the hell would she want from me... I have very little to offer. But, hell, I have to try.” She was, to put it as tritely as possible, amazing. I sent her pages of emails filled with weirdness and wrongitude, since that is all I was good at... that and fucking. I guess it worked, she bought a plane ticket to attend June's new years party.
Encounter 1: over.
Aerie is a force of nature. I met her at a Seattle santacon in Dec' 99, the same year I found canadian debauchery rivals all the american induced fantasies of what debauchery could ever be. That year, we had a tradition (a one night tradition, but tradition nonetheless) of hot girl santas doing strip teases on public transportation. We eventually got kicked off of one bus for shenanigans “Alright! I want all your red santa asses off of my bus right NOW!!!!” Later, on a completely different bus, one of these Santas turned out to be a domination aficionado and she picked me out of the crowd and said “lick my boots!” I had never licked a boot, and never really considered it an option... so I thought “What the hell, I've drank things fouler than licking boots. And she's pretty god damned sexy, what's the worst that could happen?” And I did it. The night went on and that was that. June and I ended up hitchhiking back to one of our houses, I can't remember which, but it was probably hers. The driver was absolutely stoked that he was driving santa home after a night of drunken fuckeryness.
The next day, the Santas met at the Alibi room, hung over, dirty and their costumes stained with evil and antisocial notions from the night before. I saw the Santa whose boots I had licked and said “Hey, I licked your boots last night.” This set off many things in Aerie's mind. As any quality, professional drunk is accustomed to, her friend had told her about the previous night, with little to no help from her memory. “Some guy licked your boots on a bus.” “Ewwww, he's probably old and fat and creepy.” Since that's the typical type of person that dose that sort of thing. And then, sexy as fuck me walks up and tells her that it was me and she is floored. “Can I buy you a drink?” She says. And I, say "Of course."
We run and santa (verb) and drunk (verb) all day and most of the night. The santas stop off at the 5 point and many santa panties are thrown onto the taxedermied moose head's antlers. Aerie entertained a table of santas by relating stories of the sordid domination trade that she plied, stories of pathetic corporate executives that spent all day being the completely dominant alpha crap but only really wanted to be humiliated and beaten. And they paid well for the privilege. I wanted to show her how my Jesus T-shirt glowed in the dark so we went to the womens' bathroom and unscrewed the light bulb. She sat on my lap and we made out till someone else entered and needed to use the facilities. We screwed the light bulb back in and apologized, but the woman said “NO! Don't apologize to me! You 2 have fun. Don't let me interrupt.” I drew a burningman symbol on the wall of the stall and Aerie was very impressed with the notion that I had been and will be going. “We should meet there...”
Eventually we left the bathroom and rejoined the rest of the santas just as they were about to trounce off to another locale to shock the straights and get free drinks. Aerie was ready to go home though. She started tackling stantas and making out with them, screaming obscenities and getting a little “over the top.” As they say. So Will (her host in Seattle) and Miss Rivka and I decided to taker her home to Will's. We stumbled down toward Rivka's SUV, but Aerie refused to walk unless we were all singing “Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire,” one of the fucked up christmas interpretations in the Satacon songbook. But none of us knew all the words so we just sang the chorus over and over again, because, when Aerie doesn't want to move, she does not move. She's what we call “willfull.”
We got to Will's house and Rivka puts Aerie into another room and somehow talks her out of being completely mind fucked crazy for long enough to get to sleep. Which kind of chagrins me because I was thinking of maybe having a little bit of organ rubbing. But Rivka comes out of the room and says “Look I do this for a living, I deal with these people and I know what's best for them. And right now, you are NOT what's best for her.” And leaves. What a bitch. Later I'll find out the full extent.
Will is a good guy, a computer geek and a druggie. The twain usually meet in good people, he let me sleep on the couch.
I woke to a rabid animal tugging at my underwear. Aerie had woken, and knew what she wanted. She probably would have raped me in my sleep if I hadn't woken. But I did wake and we moved toward a manic fuck schedule. Few words were exchanged at first since we both knew pretty much what we wanted and how hard we wanted it (hardest). After the first little pause, there was some talk. “Do you think you'll remember this?” And “You've been checked for STD's, right?” Then I put her on Will's kitchen sink and started fucking her there, while still having this “getting to know you” talk. “You grew up in LA” fuck fuck fuck “No, Albequerque” fuck fuck fuck “Really, what was that like?” fuck fuck fuck “Horrible.” fuck fuck fuck “Did you hear that?” “Shit.” Will's brother had woken up and decided he needed some water from Will's kitchen (the one we were fucking in) so we ran and dove behind the couch while he poured himself a tasty beverage, lingered a bit, and went back to bed. We fucked a while on the floor behind the couch, then we moved in front of the TV, I started getting tired after a few hours and decided to slow down and move off... “Um, excuse me? I'm cumming!” SHIT, I guess I can't stop now, fatigue be damned, I've got a duty here... so we continued for a few more hours, till she fell asleep in the middle of sex. That was weird, it was like fucking a corpse, yet, I knew that she'd be OK with that. In fact, I'd find out later, it was one of her fantasies.
In the morning we got chinese delivery and I got food poisoning from it. Will got his car delivered... Evidently he made a LOT of money from working at microsoft and decided to spend a couple tens of thousands on a sports car. We waited in the parking lot of the King Dome for the semi to arrive. Aerie and I were a little awkward, being sober and not used to interacting in such an inhibited fashion. The semi rolled up and disgorged a big, bad ass black car. Will signed some papers and the car was his. We all got in and he recited a few things about the car that he had read in the marketing papers but that he didn't understand. One thing he pointed out was the metal plaque that had the “designer's” signature on it implanted in the dashboard “That plate costs $5000.00” He said proudly. I'm beginning to feel sick from the food poisoning and this statement sends me over the top... I am completely non-verbal at this point because I don't want to offend him and can't come up with anything especially smart to say, so why should I make fun of someone else's stupidity? It's his money, what the hell. We started driving toward Will's parking garage, he gets around a corner and stalls... “Heh, never drove a stick shift before... heh...” And he gets up to the stop light. Aerie and I are looking at each other like “Oh fucking hell, what have we gotten into here? We should have just left his house and frolicked among the decaying city streets for the last few hours we'd have together.” The light turns green and he stalls again... “Wow,” he says, “$50,000 car and a 25 cent driver.” His attempt at self deprecating humor only exacerbated the situation. He had to call the vehicle equivalent of tech support for his car in the middle of a downtown intersection.... but he was nice.... and I was sick, ready to vomit. I stared out of the window.
“...sounds like a kitten in a dryer...” Aerie was telling me about a Merzbow album she'd heard and I was impressed. But sick. I was terrified that I had made a bad impression in my antisocial sobriety, but told her about June's annual new years party which would be debaucherous and splendid and Aerie said she would attend and we exchanged email addresses while we waited for a car expert to come to Will's aid.
We parted... kissed rather perfuncterorily (word?) and melancholery (again?). I thought “Shit, that's probably the last I'll ever see of her. What can I do to entice her back? She's got every thing going for her in LA and can get anyone she wants to beg at her feet, what the hell would she want from me... I have very little to offer. But, hell, I have to try.” She was, to put it as tritely as possible, amazing. I sent her pages of emails filled with weirdness and wrongitude, since that is all I was good at... that and fucking. I guess it worked, she bought a plane ticket to attend June's new years party.
Encounter 1: over.