I awoke in the shivering dawn. That damn electric heater I bought decided to call it quits and burn out in the middle of the night. Jumped in the shower - I tell you, hot water is a blessing in these modern and enlightened times - dressed, and walked the few blocks to my favorite café for a good cup of coffee.
On a bright, cloudless morning, I ambled down the broken, trash littered sidewalk, striding, as I always do like I have a purpose or as someone leaving a crime scene. I passed a business which taught English as a second language and computer services. Standing outside in the chilled shadows of that mammoth, plate glass building were several students and teachers soliciting passerby with their services. One, a mop-haired young man in a retro, faux-leather pimp coat stopped me with an extended hand. I smiled, shook it. He was tall and held a mane of curly, black locks cascading down to slender shoulders. His face was light colored but held distinctive Mexican Indian features.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?” He asked smiling broadly.
“Fluently.” I said.
“Oh…then I suppose you don’t need to attend any of our classes?” He replied a bit taken back. That smile, though. “Is my English good?”
I had to admit, there wasn’t even an accent. “It’s perfect.” I said. I wanted to add, Just like you, but I ain’t no sappy faggot.
We clumsily shook hands again and stated we both would like to talk later as he focused his attention on other prospective by-passers.
At the café, I sat slurping down my third cuppa joe pretending not to be annoyed by the tiny tot who sat with an obese family behind me. The brat kept slamming a spoon onto the table. Ghastly. Pay the mesera and cut out into the bright blue mid-morning Mexican sky. Even at this time the streets were teeming with early morning shoppers bustling about their various affairs. As if led by phantom hands, I found myself standing across the street to Cinema Latino, Tijuana’s downtown adult theater. Obviously crumbling under her own weight and advanced age, new paint still could not make her whorish face seem any better. It had been years since I entered her pearly gates and wasn’t even certain the movie theater was even open for sordid business any longer. Yep. I noticed a local evasively slither through its cracked pane glass entrance.
Eventually, I found myself leaning against the wall in an alcove on the inside of the theater smoking on a cigarette so nasty lurking like the three other sexually frustrated assholes who hovered nearby in complete darkness among the smell of dried semen, unwashed genitals, and at my feet the black concrete floor was littered with cum coated tissue and shit stained used condoms.
Ahead of me, the enormous screen flickered a sad blue light onto the worn, warped seats of the theater. The stale air echoed with the screeching of a floppy boobed, coked out bimbo being fucked long and nasty from a tired looking stud. In the one hundred or so seats sat ten or so catatonic looking patrons - some smoked, some drank from smuggled bottles of alcohol, one wildly masturbated like an idiot to lure a potential blow job. No one paid him any mind. Toward the entrance stood a row of four bloated old monsters ready to pounce on anything willing coming through the door - nothing came.
He popped out of nowhere, stood in front of me in the murk, and grabbed my crotch. Speaking perfect English, he instantly began mumbling in drug fueled lust, "Fuck - so horny, man. I wanna see your ass." All the while fumbling at my belt, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans.
In the half dark, he was handsome - black short cropped hair, moustache, dark skin, athletically built, in early twenties - except, something wasn't right. Another younger fag sided up to our groping and my seducer ordered to the fag in Spanish, "Suck his dick, man - get down there, suck his dick." The twinkish fag knelt in front of me and took my semi erect member in his mouth and began sucking - slurps that could be heard throughout the theater. My seducer began kissing my neck, my ears. I reciprocated and he pulls abruptly away, "No hickies, cabrone."
"Don't worry 'bout it." I smiled in the dark. Fine. Guess he doesn’t want his wife to know about his secret provocations.
Roughly whirled around and the guy begins kissing my ass, pulling out his fat, flaccid uncut cock - grinding it against me. Still, something wasn't right. He absolutely refused to touch my penis or kiss or any other type of normal physical contact. So, I'm standing there with my jeans around my calves with some twink blowing me and this hyper-sexual groping me.
The fag stops and whispers into my ear in Spanish, "Watch your money." Before he slinks back into the theater proper.
My seducer orders me to suck him off and I do. His cock - though quite nice - wouldn't get hard. He mumbled something to the effect that maybe if he watches some more of the movie, he can get an erection. I compose myself as he walks over to lean against the wall watching the movie. I check my wallet to find my money gone.
I side over to him and state, "All that just for seventy pesos?" That's all I had on me.
He returned back to the alcove, me pinning him in a corner. He nervously cooed, "C'mon, man - suck me some more."
I stood there, fists clenched, "Give it back."
He mumbles obscenities and something to the effect he is an addict - but, the handsome fucker knew he was trapped. I even got the old "I don't know what you're talking about."
I draw my lips close to his ear. I can feel his heart racing. "Look." I snarl, "You could have just asked for it - I would had given it to you...you really want your ass kicked over seventy pesos?"
He states, "What? You want it back? Here..." And hands me my crumpled bills from his jacket pocket. He begins to say something else, I abruptly stomp away.
Exiting the theater, I start the few blocks back to my apartment. Down that lonely stretch of crumbling warehouses and razor wire with the barking dogs and I think, Damn...I really need to get out of Tijuana...
Well past midnight and I sit here in a cocoon of cold darkness. No sound but the tapping of these keys and the steady hiss of the kerosene heater. It doesn't work too well. I'm so cold. My fingers aches. As I said - I sit here in paranoid angst. I feel like my chest is going to explode - as if my very heart is going to give out. Is it too late, I wonder - too late to fix this train wreck of a life I have created? I cannot take this existence much more. A long list of failures and let downs on all fronts. My life has been a poisoned river and I think I have come to its end. I want it to end. Really, what is left?
I am so bored of it all. All of it.