LADIES OF THE ROAD (cont.) back

The next one was huge. I don’t mean huge like a basketball player, but fucking ripped, her arms were bigger than mine. Guess she was a body builder or some shit. When she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine. She worked at the venue, a bouncer or something no doubt, we’d got to talking when we asked her if we could leave the bus parked in the lot overnight. The fucking label, since they bought the bus, wouldn’t get us a hotel room and every night we had to find a place to park the goddamn thing. That night we just stayed at the venue.

She wore a backwards baseball hat and a Security jacket. It was vinyl or something so when we started hooking up it squeaked a lot and sort of set a rhythm for things. She got on top, she was heavy, muscle weighs more than fat, they say. We started going at it, and she started whuping my ass. No shit. First she grabbed my shoulders and slammed my head into the bunk a few times, and I was all up in her at that point. I got dizzy and started to see dots. She slapped me a few times and hit me in the chest. Hard.

Bud heard us and said Dude, everything all right down there? The music was loud, I think it was Rage Against the Machine, which maybe got her riled up, but you can always hear someone’s ass being kicked. I thought my chest was going to cave in, I had surgery there when I was a kid, but she just kept hitting me. I didn’t ask her to stop. We got close to being done, at least I got close to being done, and she started screaming in a high-pitched wail, thought the goddamn glass was going to shatter. What the fuck, Bud said. I didn’t say shit. She was riding me and just screaming. I actually sort of liked it.

Afterwards, she climbed down, opened a beer, chugged it, opened up the door and threw up outside, and then walked away. As I took off the condom and tried to clean myself up, I could hear Bud laughing hysterically.

There’s nothing I can stand less than girls that talk to me in the sack. I mean, it’s pretty brutal when they say shit like I know you want some of this or Tell me what you need, baby but it’s far more scary when they say dumb shit like What are you thinking about? or Am I the best you’ve ever had or Where do you think we go when we die? The worst case of this, we’ll call it bed-talk, or rather, bunk-talk, was in Pittsburgh with this hippie chick of some sort, no bra, birkenstocks in winter, skinny as hell.

So this chick and I were in my bunk and I was real tired so I just wanted to get shit done with and whatnot and she was all You like Radiohead too? I went to Oxford and saw Thom Yorke in a supermarket and smiled at him and I was thinking That’s great take off your pants, but she was all I wonder a lot about technology and how it makes our life much better and much worse and how, you know, a skyline is as beautiful as the countryside used to be ‘cause that’s the last frontier, ourselves, our own culture. I was thinking Are you kidding me? Eventually she shut up so I put my hand down her pants and felt something strange. She said, Yeah that’s for you. Huh? It’s my art, a project I’m working on, and she pulled out this plastic binder from her pants, you know, one of those plastic sheets that you put on papers to make them look all nice and professional. I want you to have this, she said, I want to get my work out to people like you that really understand things.

So I turned on the light, which hurt my eyes, and looked at these sheets of paper. There was poetry or lyrics or some shit and then pictures and diagrams and quotes in between, and I didn’t want to say that I saw something like that on the inlay card of a Radiohead album, especially since I was all about getting into her pants, so I just said Wow this is really impressive, I’ll have to look at it later when I can concentrate. She said You remind me of someone, who is it? Damn, you really remind me of someone, oh I know, this guy from my hometown, lived down the road and I was deciding whether to just sleep on the goddamn floor of the bus. Finally she finished her damn speech and I stuck my tongue in her mouth.

So I was up her shirt and we were kissing and moving around and I put my hand in her pants again, and she said Anything like that would be weird. Huh? I don’t want to go that far, she said, I would feel weird. No goddamn bra and she didn’t want me to go farther than second base and I was twenty-one goddamn years old. I was pretty pissed off at that point and I felt my nutsack start to swell up and I thought about one time when I was driving home and got blueballs so bad I wrecked my dad’s car. So this hippie chick who wants to be in Radiohead was clearly not going to throw any ass my way and I still had her art project or whatever in my hand so I got down from the bunk, went outside, and jerked off onto the plastic cover. Yeah, it’s fucking nasty. That’s why I told you the goddamn story.