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She’s looking at me like she wants me to respond, to say something back to her, but I completely missed everything she just said, and now she begins rubbing my knee and says: “what do you think?”

“I think . . . uh . . . I think”

I think I’m not thinking. What’s his name comes into the room, with only one bottle of beer in hand, and looks right at the woman’s hand. She sees his glare and takes that opportunity to move her hand a little further up my leg. He just laughs a little and sits on the arm of the couch, right next to me, while moving the beer slowly back and forth, like a pendulum on a clock.

She sees that he has it gripped tightly in his hand, so she reaches for it, grabs it in her hand, and they start playing a gentle game of tug of war, while they giggle and laugh to one another. I just sit still, watching the two of them play with it, as her robe continues to slip further and further open. I’m not sure that it should be shaken that much, but they continue, until she finally makes a gentle twisting motion at the top, and it explodes all over his bare chest then all over her bare chest.

“Best beer ever,” I say, as I get up and walk outside.

“You can’t get away from me,” a voice says out of nowhere.

I run, fast, as fast I can. My heart is pumping. The voice gets quieter, barely whispering: “stop running.” I run at top speed, and the voice is now completely inaudible. I stop, giving myself time to think. Increasing my heart rate stops the hallucination. This is important information, at least until I can get some sleep. I feel calm now, relaxed. I’ve run a long distance in what seems to be a very short time. Everything looks familiar, but I’m not sure where I am. I see a community pool.

“I told you, you can’t get away from me.”

We go inside, and I can’t remember the guy’s name for the life of me. I definitely missed my opportunity to ask too. I’m hoping to see the woman he lives with, whose name I also can’t recall. She’s probably getting close to 40, even though he can’t be much more than 30. They have a great mutual relationship. He’s better looking than a male model, but he doesn’t like to work 8 hour days. She makes a fair bit of money. She’s not in great shape, but she wants to have sex with a young beautiful man. I have to admit though, even though she has a fairly average face and so so breasts, I’m very attracted to her. The truth is that she has a big ass. Every time I see her around and she bends over, it sparks something in me, exciting. I’ve never had sex with a big ass woman before. The truth is that I’m not very attracted to overweight women, and it’s rare to see a woman who is thin everywhere except her ass, yet she has been living next to me all this time. Now I’m in her house. I’m in the house of a woman with thin arms, thin legs, a slender face, a concave belly, average or maybe even small sized boobs, and a big, round, juicy, fat ass, magical.

What’s his name gestures for me to go sit on the three person couch, while he wanders off to the kitchen. I sit closest to an arm, as custom dictates. The woman comes out with wet hair, wearing nothing but a robe. She feigns embarrassment by saying: “Oh, I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m so sorry.”

“No need for apologies.”

After I say this, she sits down next to me, right in the middle seat. This is definitely not customary. There is a free seat next to the other arm, and she is wearing a very revealing robe. Why would she do this? With such a big ass on her, how am I supposed to be able to control myself? The woman starts talking to me, but her robe is riding very high up her legs and very low down her chest.

“It’s nice that you came over. I see you around all the time, but neighbours never really spend time together, do they? Not like things used to be?”

Out of nowhere, a voice says to me: “go outside.”

Auditory hallucinations. I’m hearing things. It’s likely from the lack of sleep. I’ve never heard things before. Having an auditory hallucination is all right anyway. The key is to never obey the hallucination; don’t recognize it; don’t talk to it.

“Go outside.”

Go away, go away, go away. I say these words to myself, in my head. I can barely breathe, and I feel like I’ve just had 20 cups of coffee. Why am I so awake?

“Go outside. You will breathe.”

I walk to the door, only to prove to myself that it won’t make a difference. The closer I get to the door, the more I feel my chest opening up, loosening. I put my hand on the knob, turning it. I can almost breathe. I open the door and walk through it, taking a huge gasp of air. I can breathe.

“I can breathe!” I yell out at the top of my lungs.

My neighbour is outside cutting his lawn. He wears a pair of running shoes and shorts, no shirt. I get lost staring at him, noticing everything about him. He’s been outside a thousand times cutting his lawn, but I’ve never really noticed him before. He runs his hand through his jet black hair, exposing a drop of sweat that slowly runs down his nose, past his large brown eyes, toward his large prominent chin. He doesn’t notice this drop when he looks back at me and asks: “everything ok?”

I’m having trouble concentrating, as I see that drop of sweat, wanting to leap off his chin, but I need to say something. It’s going to be weird if I don’t say anything. He leans his head back and runs his hand through his hair again, forcing the drop to fall onto his slender but perfectly cut chest. I’m so busy concentrating that all I can utter is: “everything’s ok.”

I know he’s looking at me, but I’m fixated on that drop of sweat. It slowly works its way all the way down his chest. All the way down. It goes just under the lip of his shorts, never to be seen from again. My eyes jump back to his eyes.

“I don’t see you out here much. Sam? Right?”

“Right.”

He looks very intently at me and says: “come inside for a beer?”

I’m in no position to say no to anything. Every time I’m by myself I lose time. I need to be around someone, so what else would I say, except “sure.”

Ring . . . ring . . . ring

The cuckoo clock shows 10, but at least it’s still light outside. I’ve lost a bit more time.

“Hello?”

“Sam, hey it’s Al, from work. We haven’t seen you in days. What’s going on, are you all right?”

“Hi Al. No. I’m . . . my dad’s dead. I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

I am genuinely sorry. I just didn’t really think of it. I’ve been losing time, and work is about the last thing on my mind.

“You should have just called. Next time, just call.”

“There won’t be a next time. My dad will only ever die once.”

“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. You sound awful. Take a week off, and just come in after that K?”

“K.”

“Listen, before I let you go – are you going to be all right?”

“No.”

“Uh . . . well, just think positively, and everything will get better. Take the week and do that.”

I can’t even respond to that. What am I supposed to be positive about? I can’t deal with the death of my dad because I hate him, and if I did like him, I would be even more upset about it. Think positively? What an idiot. Why am I even still on the phone with this guy?

Click

10:02, according to the cuckoo clock. It seems that I only lose time when I’m by myself. I need to be around people, stay with people.

I pick up the phone and dial Ann’s number.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It’s Sam.”

“I know.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I recognized your voice as soon as you said hi.”

“Ann, I miss you.”

A faint whisper comes back on the phone, “I miss you too. I found Maria. I told her that you were looking for her. That’s all I told her.”

“Right.”

“I’ll have her back and in your arms in no time.”

“Great.”

“I have to go Sam. Goodbye.”

“Ann. I . . .”

Click

A dial tone echoes in my ear. It echoes, and I start to hear voices coming from that echo; “please hang up, and grow a pair, please hang up now. This is your life. Please hang up, and go find Ann, please hang up now.”

My eyes close. It’s been days and days since I’ve had any sleep at all. The voice screams back at me, stopping me from falling asleep; “this is your life!”

I set the phone down and take a look out the window. I’m by myself. Why am I by myself? I should be with people. I’m a social animal. I need to be around other people, all people do. How do I meet people? How do I talk to them? How is it that I’m this stupid? My chest feels heavy like it’ll collapse. My lungs are barely moving. It’s a huge effort just to breathe. I feel numb all over, and my chest is getting tighter and tighter.

St. Maurice church. I see what used to be the church in the parking lot. It was now a charred shell of its former self.

“Hi,” a voice said to me out of nowhere.

“Hello Matt, what are you doing out? It’s still dark.”

“Sometimes I go for walks early in the morning, to get away.”

“What do you have to get away from?”

Matt doesn’t answer, but I knew the answer as soon as I finished asking the question. I should have asked myself what does a normal boy who lives in a middle class neighbourhood with no mother have to get away from, which prompts my question: “need some time away from Dad?”

“He sleeps in anyway. It is peaceful at this time of the day. Nobody is around.”

The kid is right. There are no cars, no buses, no planes. Nothing is making noise, and nobody is outside, except for me and Matt.

“I know your dad’s a lot bigger than you, but you need to stand up to him, be a man.”

“I am just a boy.”

We wandered down the street a bit, and one of the street lights lit up Matt’s face, revealing a black eye. I gasp a little, saying: “did your dad give you that black eye?”

“I was playing baseball and hurt myself.”

“How long have you been playing baseball?”

“Oh, years.”

“When do you play? I’ll come see you.”

“Oh, I do not play on a team or anything. I just play with friends.”

I face the kid, looking at him. I’m sure he’s lying. I reach into my pocket, pulling out my keys, and I say: “are you right handed or left handed?”

“Right handed.”

I toss the keys to Matt, almost directly at his left hand. His left hand doesn’t even move. He makes a sweeping motion with his right hand, reaching across his body to try to catch the keys; he drops them, which makes me say: “you don’t play baseball.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Baseball players catch with their opposite hands. I tossed my keys right at, what should be, your catching hand, and you didn’t even move your catching hand. Instead you tried to catch them with your throwing hand.”

“The black eye was from baseball,” he said, while tossing the keys back to me.

“Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, but you need to stand up to your dad. If he comes at you with his fists or a belt, you come at him with a baseball bat. Let him know that you won’t be bullied.”

“I do not know. I do not know if I can do it.”

“You have to,” I said, while walking away from him, without looking back. I walked for a bit, but I became increasingly impatient, so I started running, running all the way back home.

Breakfast was waiting for me when I got home. There was french toast, maple syrup, and orange juice all set out on the table. I sat down to see a note from Ann, which read:

Sam,

I had an amazing time last night. I’m going to find Maria, but if you need me for anything, anything at all, please call me.

202-762-1401

Love, Ann

Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo . . . Cuckoo

Cuckoo . . . cuckoo . . . cuckoo . . . cuckoo

My eyes open, 4:00, according to the clock, and it’s still dark outside. It’s 4:00am. I must have only had my eyes closed for a minute. Ann peacefully sleeps next to me on the couch, not making even the slightest movement. Seeing her naked body next to me makes me want to wake her up and start all over again. I feel wide awake, as though I have slept for days. I feel aware. I don’t want to wake Ann, but I feel bad leaving her lying naked on my couch. I lift her up, carrying her to my bedroom. I gently set her down on the bed, her head on my pillow. I pull a sheet and blanket over her, barely able to cover her body up without pouncing directly on top of her. I run my hands through her hair and give her a very loving kiss on the cheek, softly whispering to her, “goodnight.”

I need to walk, clear my head, figure out why I can’t sleep, why I’m losing time. I start to wander, aimlessly walking, without any real goal of where I want to go. I see a strange looking man who wants to get my attention, and he crosses the street to make sure that he can talk to me. I’m not the kind of person who fears others, but it’s not customary to cross the street to talk to a stranger at 4:00 in the morning. If it’s between midnight and five, it’s pretty much accepted that you just go about your business, unless you want trouble.

“Do you know when the last bus comes?”

What the hell? What is this guy thinking? I have to tell him that “I think the last bus has gone by already.”

“Oh. Do you have any change, just in case?”

I pull my wallet out and tell him that “if I do, you’re welcome to it.”

“I could sell you some cigarettes.”

He pulls out a pack and starts to pull out five cigarettes.

“Thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

He pushes the cigarettes back into his pack, saying: “is there something else I can do for you?”

I look through my wallet, showing him that I have no money and no change, saying: “If I had money, I would give it to you. I wouldn’t need anything in return.”

He offers his hand, and I reach out and shake it.

He smiles at me and says: “Thank you.”

“Well, there’s no need to thank me. I wasn’t able to help you out.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re a good person. That’s what matters. Thank you.”

We began to walk away from each other, as I quietly whispered: “you’re welcome.”

“Ann. I need you.”

She moves her whole hand up my inner thigh to my belly button and back again, while gently kissing my lips.

“Ann. I need you.”

She teases me by moving a little closer to where I want her to be. I can feel how wet she is. I move my hands up her chest to feel her heart still racing. Cupping her breasts firmly in my hands, I say: “Ann. I need you.”

“Then be a man.”

“What?”

“Be a man.”

I gently lift her off of me, laying her down on the couch. I move myself to her mouth, but she pushes me away.

“Be a man, Sam.”

I’m frustrated, angry, so I turn her over. I’m slow and gentle, as I go behind her. It feels so warm, so wet, so good. I start a motion.

“Be a man, Sam.”

I playfully spank her, but she just says: “Be a man, Sam.”

I slap her ass hard, maybe too hard. She gasps and lets out a little yelp. She starts to touch herself again. I move faster, more aggressively. I loosely wrap my hand around the front of her neck, and she lets out a little moan. She begins to shake; I feel a clench, and I explode.

Shake . . . clench . . . explode . . . shake . . . clench . . . explode . . . shake . . . clench . . . explode . . . shake . . . clench . . . explode . . . shake . . . clench . . . explode . . . shake . . . clench . . . explode.

She collapses, and I collapse.

Ann bites me, my leg, my chest, my neck. It hurts too, but I like her anger, it excites me, maybe too much. She finally wrestles her way past my button, unzipping my pants with her teeth. I lay still, not helping her at all as she wrestles with my heavy legs to pull off my pants and boxers. I feel her tongue on me then her mouth surrounds me; it feels so good. Her tongue, lips, mouth, and hand all work together in perfect harmony. I feel the gyration of her arm again, as she is once again pleasuring herself. Her moans try to escape her mouth, but instead I feel their vibration on me. I begin to squirm. I can’t stay still; it just feels too good. I run my hands through her hair, up and down her neck. She doesn’t stop; she doesn’t relent. She keeps going. Her passion is endless. She starts shaking again, screaming, but I can barely hear it; I just feel it on me. I’m about to explode, but she takes her mouth off me.

I’m whimpering and shaking out of frustration, so much so that I can only let out: “Ann.”

She says nothing in return and just sits down on me, making it impossible for me to utter another word. She starts shouting commands at me.

“Slide your tongue in . . . that’s it . . . that’s it. In and out . . . yes. Do it faster . . . use your fingers.”

She reaches behind her, taking me in her hand, making an up and down stroking motion. I’m so close; almost anything will get me there. Her legs tighten around my face, and I can barely breathe, as I feel her legs clenching my head, tighter and tighter. Her hand’s grip begins to loosen on me as she once again loses control. I can feel her shake and quiver, now more than ever before. She’s screaming, shaking, clawing at my chest, vibrating, as I feel a gush wash over me, soaking me. She stops breathing, stops moving, for what feels like a long time, but might only be seconds. She begins to breathe again, chest heaving, and she can barely catch her breath, as she lets out a little giggle then a full laugh.

I’m trembling, and it makes me say: “I’m so close.”

She slides downs my chest so close to where I want her to be. I can feel her warmth, barely touching, just barely.

I spread myself across the couch, keeping my eyes shut. I begin to drift off, and I see a woman who grabs my hand. I’m in some sort of a greenhouse. She begins walking me through this giant greenhouse, when I say: “where are you taking me?”

“I’m your guide. Follow me, and everything will be fine.”

I somehow trusted that this was an important moment. I will follow this mystery woman, deep into the greenhouse. I’m here for a reason, and she’ll show me what that reason is.

The woman is fading, and the greenhouse is disappearing around me.

“Don’t go; you need to stay here. This is important.”

Everything fades away as I feel a weight on top of me. With my eyes still closed, I feel Ann’s lips gently kissing my cheek. Her soft hands deeply massage my chest as she moves her mouth away from my face. Open mouth kisses and hot breath dance across my neck, from earlobe to shoulders, kissing her way down to my chest. I feel her wiggling, gently, excited, as she is straddling me. Her wiggling turns into a motion as I feel her lips and tongue sucking and flicking my nipple. She has awakened me. I open my eyes to darkness. Ann must have turned off the lights. It’s pitch black. I feel around so I can touch her, caress her, and she has already disrobed. Her skin is smooth and soft, and my hands move easily up and down her body. A soft caress to her face, a gentle hand movement from her hip to her breasts, a very firm grasp of her inner thigh all cause Ann to moan a little bit, just a little bit. Her breath gets heavy, faster, much faster. I begin touching her everywhere, gently, roughly; it doesn’t matter; she keeps getting louder. I grab her inner thigh very firmly this time, very high up, and I can feel the wetness dripping down. I feel her hand gyrating and moving quickly, as she gets louder and louder. I grab her ass with one hand and the back of her neck with the other, almost too hard. She lets out a scream. Her whole body shakes and shakes and shakes.

I feel Ann’s hands fiddling with my belt, as she clumsily and angrily tries to remove it. I don’t help her though. I enjoy the suspense, the frustration, the difficulty; I love it. Her shaky hands finally get through my belt, as she is now faced with the button and zipper on my jeans. Her hands are vibrating, and they are almost useless at this point, so she sweetly asks: “can you please help me?”

“No.”

“Don’t you want me?”

“Yes, but I want you to do it.”

Her frustration grows stronger, as she gives up technique and begins trying to angrily force my jeans open. Her frustration becomes vocal as she growls at me. It builds and builds, and she screams loudly and beats my chest, hitting and slapping me, saying: “take them off, now, right now.”

“You do it.”

“So, you and Maria voluntarily joined an organized crime ring?”

“Sure, it’s good money for me. I think Maria joined to help get a poor family member from another country an operation or something stupid and selfless like that.”

“And, you’re here because?”

“Maria doesn’t belong in this. She’s a good person. I want to know what you know about Maria. I want to help her get out of this.”

I’m weary about this, but I really don’t know anything about Maria anyway, so I can tell Ann everything when I say: “she was an acquaintance in high school; that’s it.”

“That’s it? You were dancing with her.”

“You and I were naked in a stream together. Do I know you?”

“I guess not.”

“What I still don’t get is why the religious thing. Why were you at my door in the first place? You obviously don’t have any convictions. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that you were there.”

“I do belong to a religious group. It’s easier than telling my community and my family that I’m not religious. As for the coincidence, I found out where you lived. I wanted to see who you were.”

“How could you possibly find that out?”

“I’m a very resourceful person. This is a big part of why they want me so bad.”

Ann gets up from the couch. She notices my cuckoo clock and moves toward it. She begins to wind the clock, pulling the chains down so the acorns rise to the top, as she says: “this is a beautiful old clock.”

“It belonged to my parents, but I somehow ended up with it.”

“Yeah, the older they are the worse they are at keeping time.”

I look at the clock, smile and say: “three thirty one.”

Ann smiles back at me, holds my hand, very gently, kisses me on the cheek, looks deeply into my eyes and says: “time is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

Ann is a bit different than the other women I’ve met. I can’t put my finger on it just yet, but there’s something very familiar about her personality type. She walks me back to the couch, and she sits down. I lie down on my back, resting my head on her lap, closing my eyes. She gently begins running her fingers through my hair, as someone who is in love might do. Her finger tips move from tousled hair to my chest, where she begins to glide them up and down, over my shirt. Barely able to feel the wonderful sensation, I remove my shirt, throwing it on the ground, almost as though I’m angry with it for getting in the way. I return to my resting position, eyes closed. Neither one of us says a word as Ann continues to stroke my chest, up and down, very slowly, with her fingertips.

She gently lifts my head, so she can get out from under me, whispering: “I’ll be right back; no peaking.”