She Danced

More memories from that night hung for years like ghosts in the mist of her consciousness. Spent from that first, fast and ugly rutting they staggered, still half dressed, not even caring to cover up, further into the dark alley. A short, stumbling climb up a spiral staircase, and a short fumbling moment with jingling keys in a chain only fuelled Aki's desire, her need for seduction and distraction. To get pinned down, filled up and pushed to the brink of delirium once again. That was her game, her drug against it all. A solution to every problem. Catharsis for a comatose self esteem.

And the bartender with the bleached hair proved to be an adequate catalyst for her fire. Their gleaming, silently screaming naked forms painted new figures on his sweat stained mattress. The run down, wallpaper stripped and plaster leaking walls echoed their grunts and moans, more animal than human, with a muffled accuracy. His cock invaded and retreated, sunk slowly into her, or slammed to spear her with brutal force.

Hair was pulled, skin was licked, kissed, sucked, scraped, bitten, sweat was burning in her eyes, mixing with tears and rolling down her cheeks. Nails were dug into backs, nipples were roughly pinched and twisted as well as gently kissed and caressed. Egos and ambitions were crushed and obliterated only to rise from the ashes, over and over that night.

Aki eagerly fled into this new cocoon, redefined her role as nothing but commanded and compelled to balance on the edge of erotic insanity. A body she had no claim to, destined to this shameless use by a nameless penetrator. Aki was gone, replaced by Honey, Geisha, Goddess, Vixen, Slut, Whore, Fucktoy, whatever label did the trick. Only then could she relax and live each second as if the ones before and the ones after didn't matter, were not even there to begin with. In that whirlpool all other noise was drowned out by the sheer force of a roaring fire of lust scorching her soul clean.

It was a ritual, a shaman beat of flesh sliding into flesh, skin sliding and slapping skin, bodies in an ancient routine, lulling its participants into an incubatic trance. It was not just lust, pain and pleasure given and taken. It was a rocking with a purpose. Even here, in the sweat and sighs, on a dirty mattress on rhythmically creaking floorboards in an abandoned demolition project, to the pungent smell of semen and sawdust, the goal was the same as in the strobes and stabbing dancebeats in the club just a few breathless moments ago.

Even here, Aki danced. Tomorrow she would stumble on, hollow as ever, less than mortal. But right there, and right then, she was nothing short of divine.

----

The bleak warmth of the early summer morning found her lying on that mattress, inhaling the stale fumes of yesterday's insanity. She was still naked, lying on her side, the glistering curves of her cafe latte skin making chest and shoulders gleam like a polished jade statuette in a patch of intruding fresh rays from the rising sun. The intense light reflected off her own skin and burned in her eyes when she tried to raise her head to get her bearings in this unfamiliar place.

With a grunt she averted her eyes, gave up and slumped back onto the mattress again. Her limbs were sprawled in disarray and her long, black hair was a tangle of wetness striped across her face and clinging to her shoulders and chest. Absently she brushed the worst away from her eyes while she tried to, carefully, very carefully, breathe the worst fog out of her head. Tentatively, she extended her attention to the nerve ends in her body and discovered to some small content that the place was warm, and despite being both humid and fully exposed, she wasn't feeling the least bit chilly. So she decided to be in no hurry finding clothes or a towel or something. Her limbs were still too tired, so any serious exercise, like sitting up, would be out of the question. And besides, what need was there to try to cover up?

This was the bartender from yesterday's place, she assumed. And there was really no part of her that he hadn't already seen. Let alone tasted. The warmth from the sun patch through the window was actually a rather pleasant feeling, and she relaxed and concentrated on the sensation of the rays heating up her skin.

Her head was a different story, however. It felt like a geometric problem worthy of a Nobel Prize winner. Somehow it felt like her brain was occupying a larger part of her head than, well, her head. She felt a nagging pressure on the inside of her temples, as if something wanted to get out. She felt like she was slowly tilting backwards, an illusion of intoxication still lingering on her blood. Not enough to panic or to trigger any nausea, but it was a discomforting idea. Her sight was foggy, her memories were all over the place, and that inner voice that always tried to tell her when she was acting stupid and immature was nowhere to be found.

Aki drew a mental sigh of relief. The little bitch inside of her carried Luther dogmas in a little black book that she used to whisper to Aki whenever there was sight of foresight, ambition and self esteem building up in her. Then small, venomous arguments and theses like "you are no good", "there is no point in trying" and "you are a failure" seeped into Aki by her own little inverted muse's spiteful design. It was only when her own mind was so blank that no downputting was necessary to stifle the forward momentum that her inner fiend went to sleep. Moments like this. So being mentally comatose had its ups and downs of course, but a little pounding headache was a price that Aki was willing to pay for a fleeing moment of peace of mind.

All in all, it was a good morning. She had danced like she hadn't danced in weeks, and chased the acid rain clouds away for a while.

Then steps approached, softly across the large room, the creaking floorboards coming closer and closer until finally stopping just in front of Aki's immobile shape. She let her eyes open again and saw a pair of bare feet and calves on the floor in front of her face. They dissapeared up into a pair of cut off loose denim pants just below the knee. Her own disengaged motorics didn't allow for a further exploration, but she knew who it was already.

"Good morning," she mumbled, and the two feet took a brief step back and the bartender knelt down to sit on the floor, legs crossed beside her.

He had no shirt on, and Aki's drowsy eyes started to notice, for the first time, how the man actually looked. She alredy knew how the shape of his muscles and sinews went, and how the various textures of his skin felt under her palms, tongue or lips, but to actually see it in broad daylight was a whole different thing. She had spent the whole night in a blur of shapes and emotions, and was now amazed at all the details she had missed. What she had felt like a minor irregulatiry across his chest was in fact a long, white scar with stitchmarks lining it like a bizarre braille code. And then there were the tattoos. Snippets of text, asian dragon ornaments, crosses, bullets. A myriad of small symbols and stories, memories eternally imprinted into his skin. They ran down his arms to the elbow and were randomly scattered across his chest and torso.

The bartender extended an arm and caressed Aki's shoulder while he gave her a friendly smile. The other hand held a mug full of what she guessed was steaming coffee.

"Didn't want to wake you up, love," he said, his voice darker and deeper than yesterday, the effect that alcohol and passive smoking for a whole night can have on some people.

"What time is it?" Aki wondered.

The tattooed man shrugged. "Around lunch, I guess. I haven't checked. This is when I usually get up, with the night shifts behind the bar and all." He glanced briefly over Aki at something. "The VCR says 11:30, but I wouldn't trust that evil thing if my life depended on it. It ate my Red Dwarf tape last week. I hate it."

Aki let out a short giggle. Yes, her gambling assumption from yesterday had paid off. It wasn't as much what he said as in how he said it and how he acted. Here was a guy who was in fact a real human being and not just a figment of western civilisation. One that was kind and decent, and that wouldn't run off screaming at the sight of her not so polished morning after mess. And most of all, had the guts to be a little uncool in front of his new conquest. Maybe because he realised what the stakes really were, and that nobody had conquered anybody here. Aki raised a mental eyebrow in curious surprise. That would certainly be a first.

"Hey," she said, still not moving. "Are you in a hurry today?"

"Not really, no."

"Can I stay here for a while? And I really mean right here. If I move I'm gonna die. I just need to lie down until my head stops spinning. Is that ok?"

"Sure thing," the bartender replied. "Who the hell could say no to having a gorgeous thing like you in her birthday suit on the living room floor?"

"Gorgeous? Yeah right, I must look a mess."

"Here's a hint for you and the rest of womankind: Men like mess. Besides, unless you're in such a bad shape that you start to hurl projectile stomach acids across the floor, you are the most attractive thing in this room anyway, however ugly you imagine yourself to be. And I don't think you're heading for that gruesome destiny. I saw you the whole night yesterday. You know how to handle a good booze."

"No, I just need some time to wake up, that's all. Are you sure I'm not any trouble?" she asked.

"None at all," he said. Then nothing, he just sat there for a few seconds.

"Thank you," Aki suddenly said.

"For what?"

"For not making a big issue out of things. I just needed somebody, something, you know. I hope that you don't have any issues about me and last night."

"Honestly?" the man said. "I'm not complaining, but it would be nice to know where I have you. Are we cool, are we friends now, do I have any obligations? You know, I don't exactly take a girl home from the bar every day. Are there rules?"

"No no... we're... we're fine... I don't want anything from you. I mean, I'd like to think we're on good terms now after yesterday. No, I got all I wanted."

"...which is?"

"The best fucking cock I've had in years."

She could hear him sputter and choke on a sip of coffee before breaking down in a hissing, laughing fit. "Damn, woman! I'm trying to handle hot beverage here, don't pull stunts like that on me."

She laughed softly. "Sorry. I thought you could handle some straight talk. After all, you screwed me to kingdom come not too long ago. Can we get more personal than that?"

"Guess not," he chuckled.

"Some friends we are, by the way." Aki said. "I don't even know your name."

"One of the girls at the club said your name is Aki."

She nodded. "Not the one in my passport, but everyone calls me that. Even my mother."

"Very well then." He took her limp hand in his and shook it demonstratively up and down. "Hello Aki. My name is Jasper. Damned pleased to meet you."

Then he leaned over her and planted a kiss on her forehead before standing up and walking out of the room again. Aki sank back to the basic functions of surviving a hangover again, feeling the sun on her skin, feeling the balance slowly return and the headache eternally slowly retreat. She cleared her head of all conscious talk and just observed the seconds pass by, each one feeling a little more at ease in the brain department.

The little condescending bitch pixie of bad self esteem was already stirring, sifting the library of killer insults to throw at Aki. But for now, at least this one day, she knew that she could tell it to simply fuck off. The "no good" and the haunting memories that she danced away, night after night, would stay at bay.

There were ups and there were downs in the emotional like of the young woman. If she had given it an extra round of thought, she would have realised that this, naked, half comatose, hung over and basking in the extended afterglow of a sex overdose, was a pretty peculiar way to spend a high peak of her current everyday existence, and that her highs were just what she achieved when the lows were too tired to pester her.

She knew this, of course she did. But for now, it would simply have to do.

----

She still woke up to that same old rewind replay reaper man wet dream every other night. Iron bars embedded in the softness of flesh and the hardness of bones shattered like some ancient shards of pottery dug out of an arceological excavation. She would be back in the passenger seat, watching the grotesque display of a man shake and in futility grasp the penetrating spikes, hear his heels hammer like drums against the floor of the car. And the cough, that gurgling, almost astonished cough in surprise over being all of a sudden brutally massacred by sheer fucking tough luck.

But it was not the images of her father's gruesome fate that made Aki to this day wake up with a feeling in her stomach that no vomiting could ever rid her of. Not that she didn't try those nights. On her knees in the bathroom with her fingers down her throat, just to get some kind of change to a terrible inertia. No, it was not the blood, the bizarre flopping figure or even the loss of a father; a guide, an icon of safety and love, a god to a girl not quite ready to take on the big world alone.

It was herself, the Aki from two years ago, that for several minutes just sat there in the wrecked veichle and looked on as a struggling heart pumped blood out of the holes in her father's chest. A heart that long since had given up on the idea of providing blood and oxygen to the brain, and just kept a doomed body alive out of spite.

She had poked the side of her dad, stated that he was in fact dead, and then proceeded to get annoyed. Anoyed because she wouldn't reach the Nikon building in time for the opening of the trade show. Annoyed because she had gotten dust, dirt and shattered glass all over, and even inside of her blouse. Annoyed because her fucking dad didn't have the courtesy to keep his blood dripping hands from pouring the sticky red ooze over her bag that was wedged in between the seats.

The doctors and therapists had all explained to her that it was just her brain's reaction to the shock of the terrible event, that it wasn't her real self that had thought those terrible, cold and ugly thoughts. But that made little difference to a terrified little girl, because those terrible nights she was just a little girl all over again, that kept waking up with a desire to claw her own guts out, hating herself and hating the way she had been feeling.

So Aki danced. Aki immersed herself in books, in caffeine, in dangerous games and delirious indulgements. Drugs, liquor, endorphines, sugar, social games and antisocial expressionism. There was a little girl in there who hated another little girl who had seen her father flop around like a live herring on the roast. And Aki tried her damndest to drown out her weeping. The nights were her enemy, and she did all she could to avoid that dream, and the private panic peak that followed.

-----

The sun had climbed high above the horizon and the world didn't spin as fast around the naked Asian girl's immediate surroundings anymore. She felt her senses returning, and she dared to lift her head from the sweaty mattress in the blonde Australian's combined livingroom and bedroom. What did he say that his name was now again? Jasper?

She groaned inwardly and scolded herself that she had to be a little bit more careful what she did with those last hours of days like this last one. OK, she needed a good fuck, a real solid all-nighter. That wasn't the issue. But maybe she should be picking her partners in crime with a little bit more care in the future. She vaugely remembered a conversation on this same mattress...that must have been earlier in the morning. Some blue jeans and bare feet. And tattoos. Yes, she had talked to him. And as far as she could remember, she had silently given herself a hindsight approval of her catch. Jasper, yes that was his name. Jasper the bartender. He was a good guy. This was his bed... mattres... whatever.

Aki sat up and stroke some hair out of her face. Or rather pried it away. Sweat, dust and lord knows what had dried up and glued strands to her forehead and cheeks. With a mild disgust she cleared her face from the worst of the hair and looked around.

The livingroom was a sparse place. A wooden board floor and wallpaper that looked like something that had been considered bad taste even in the 70's told her that Jasper either had just moved in, or wasn't particularly interested in interior design. There was a sofa against the wall behind her, some chairs scattered at random, and bookshelves against one wall that also accommodated a TV set, a VCR and a DVD player. Other than that, the room was completely empty.

It seemed like the whole apartment was too. Through an open door she could see a small kitchen, and apart from that and a hallway in plain sight, there was only a bathroom door left unexplored. And unless he had fallen asleep in there, there was no sign of Jasper. The apartment was completely silent, and the distant humdrum of a street suggested that this apartment was located on the inside of a yard somewhere, safely shielded from traffic noise.

No, she was alone in the apartment. With a stomach faintly protesting, and on unsteady legs, she managed to get herself upright and on two legs.

"Jasper?" she said.

No answer. Aki stumbled out into the kitchen. A faint worry that this apartment was located on the bottom floor and that bypassers would see her icky body in that state of undress came and went just as quickly. As if she really cared. No, let the pervs have their fun, she thought, and walked on. On a chair in the kitchen she found her halter top and silver skirt, like a strange piece of candy wrapping discarded where it fell. Except that it probably didn't fall on a kitchen chair. Jasper must have collected the scattered pieces and hung them there. Still in a wrinkled mess, but hey, a man is a man is a man. It gave her a certain feeling of sympathy that the guy had actually made an effort to be a little bit tidy there.

Then she noted a yellow post-it note left on the kitchen table. In a large and clear handwriting it said "Look outside". Curious, she went over to the kitchen window and peered out. This wasn't the bottom floor after all. Two stories down, a lush yard with paved walkways, a small basketball court and shrubs and trees presented itself like an oasis in the urban desert. Two little kids, maybe five or six years old, were playing some elaborate game in a corner involving three tricycles and a bedsheet. It looked like a miniature bedouin tent, and they seemed delighted over the cleverness of their construction.

On a bench just a few meters from her window sat Jasper. He had the same cut off jeans and untended hairdo as he had had earlier that morning, but with the addition of a grey hooded shirt. His feet were lazily rested on a wooden box in front of him, and he was reading a book. Aki looked at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to get her head straight around what she thought of him, and then knocked on the window.

Jasper didn't look up. The kids did though, and that's when she realised that she was standing there in full sight, bare breasted and looking like she had just recently fornicated herself into a frothing frenzy. Which she had, but that doesn't mean that small children have any business knowing.

She quickly backed away from the window, took her top and tied it in place behind her neck before trying to get the bartender's attention one more time. This time Jasper heard her knock and met her tired eyes with his own amused glance. He motioned her to open the window, which she after some problem with an unforgiving hatch managed to do, and leaned out to get some of the fresh midday air.