A losing defense of honor, Part I

"Have you ever been in jail?"

How does one exactly answer that question? When Anonymous Lilies asked it of me yesterday, I normally would have laughed and turned the question around on her. Stupid questions can always be turned around on someone else.

The problem is, I guess it's not a stupid question.

Jail or prison? I asked. "There's a difference?" Of course. Jail is a holding cell before you're charged with a crime. Prison is where you go for punishment after you've been found guilty of a crime. "I really didn't realize that. So?"

A memory flooded back to me, one I didn't share with her in my answer.

In 1998, I was in a serious relationship. Jeri. She lived in the city in an area that used to be horrible but is now not so bad, even considered posh. After a Tuesday night of drinking at a horrible dive bar known for its share of junkies, musician has-beens, and punk rockers on the verge of yuppidom, I was not feeling up to hang out for much longer. It was only 1am, and we were known to drink until 4am when some of the late bars close.

"Are you heading back?" I'm heading home. We didn't live together, but she lived in the city itself whereas I lived in the outskirts. We were having a rocky few weeks and I was seriously contemplating breaking it off. "Will you come by in the morning?" Sure. Please get home safe. We hugged and kissed, she said her I love you, that she didn't really completely mean.

I wandered down the major street towards my car, sober because I was holding back while my "friends" pounded them back. I didn't have a lot of love for the folks at the bar, not even the employees who I usually get along with. These were Jeri's friends. I think.

Jeri was particularly gorgeous, a thin, dishy blonde with a streak of brilliance that shined on rare occasions. Everyone and their father wanted to be with Jeri, it seemed. Rock stars, actors, television reporters, athletes. She was always asked out by this person or that person. I was never bothered by her popularity, and always figured she'd meet someone "better" than me and dump me. I was prepared. Then she fell in love.

I picked up my car a few blocks away and started the trek home, normally a 15-20 minute drive. Back in 1998, cell phones weren't that popular and the one I had was the size of a toaster. I did have 2 pagers which were alphanumeric. They had operators who took messages and beamed them to the screen.

Almost halfway to my home, I get a text page: "Dont feel safe. Bill creepy. Walking home soon. Call you. Love you." I didn't like the sound of the text, but there was no reply feature. She didn't have a cell phone or a pager, so it was just update-style text messages.

I decided to turn around. I rarely do that, never getting in the way of people's lives unless they ask me. Honestly, there is little you can do to effect a person if they're not ready to be effected. I'm not talking just about helping them out, but even offering advice or assistance in finding a job is useless if they don't want advice or a job. Jeri was the partying socialite, she knew how the handle herself.

Bill was a problem, though. A tall, good looking, strung out waste of oxygen, Bill was a spoiled rich kid who partied himself through his folks' inheritance. He had enough money to go forever with his useless stunted life, but he preferred hard drugs, hard partying, hard living. I never understood why people are attracted to such drivel, but so it is.

Bill liked Jeri. A lot. He constantly put pressure on her, right in front of me, to at least sleep with him. Jeri wasn't the sort to be trusted, but I am not a jealous lover. I would never get sad or jealous if someone I was with decided to be with someone else -- it happens so frequently in life that you have to accept it, like mold on mushrooms, soft spots on apples. I never asked her who her other or previous lovers were, though.

I got back to the bar in record time, parking illegally right in front. One could say that I definitely learned in a heartbeat that there was no love from any of the regulars there. All I heard when I asked was that Jeri and Bill were making out in the back seating area the moment I left, and that they had left together a few minutes ago.

At this point I contemplated just leaving. She was a free woman, even if we had a relationship. It is not my place to babysit her or tell her what she should do or who she should be with. A 26 year old should sleep in the bed they make, and the more a person pushes for a different lifestyle, the harder people fight back and do worse things.

One my way out, the one person that I still call my friend to this day told me that she was worried for Jeri. Jeri had a tendency to get drunk and stupid, and Bill was always carrying odd pills and drugs. I shrugged, thanked her for the information, and decided to drive to Jeri's house not 12 blocks away just to make sure everything was OK. She did text page me, so I felt I had to at least follow up.

Instead of driving down the main thoroughfare, I hopped into an alley that goes behind the shady bars. It's a bit of a shortcut, and as the bars let out the pedestrian traffic tends to clog up the road. All I needed was a 5 minute hop down the alley, double park in the next one, and zip up to check to make sure she's safe and sound.

I never made it to her apartment, though. 2 blocks into the alley, there they were. Having sex, obviously. Jeri loved her punk rock skirts and tank tops. Her skirt lifted up, Bill against her, against a dumpster. My heart fell because I knew he wouldn't be using protection, and I'm adamant about being safe. I wouldn't dump her for fucking another guy, I'd dump her for fucking a dirty, disgusting crackhead without a condom.

I contemplated pulling into reverse and zipping back from where I came from when I looked again and noticed she was crying. Her face was twisted and she had a bruised eye. Something isn't right. I stopped the car 50 feet back with my lights on and stepped out.

Bill looked over his head. "Don't worry man, it's nothing." It's nothing if she's OK and she asks me to leave. Jeri opens her bruised eye and screams, "please." I step forward, walking slowly towards him, knowing that the worst thing I can do is run which would give him a warning that I was pissed.

Instead, he pulled out of her legs and zipped up his pants, then turned around to face me. He was big, about 6'2", lanky but muscular. I had seen him do pull-ups to impress the women, and I knew he was a reasonable fighter since he did get drunk and put his mouth on other men's women often. Of course the ladies loved him, he was a complete loser, and they could rush to be his mommy.

As he took his first step towards me, Jeri collapsed onto the rocky alley pavement, her arms looped in front of her and her face against those arms. She was balling, a horrible death knell siren call of pain and suffering and humiliation.

"She wanted it, man, she asked for it." All I want to know is if she's OK. I'm not here for you, Bill. "I'm telling you, ask anyone. She was all over me and she told me to come with her." I just want to check on her. He was slowly walking towards me as I was slowly walking towards her. 10 feet from her and we were set to pass in the night. I was certain he'd walk past me and keep walking.

I didn't expect his fist in my ear. A man of that size and strength can usually cold cock a man of any size and put him down fast. Surprise is the only virtue in fighting, and if you can tell your opponent isn't prepared for your lashing, you can win over them before a real battle begins.

That was Bill's mistake. He had seen me coming, a short guy with little obvious muscular build, and he took a shot to my face in what most think is the weakest part. Lucky for me, I wasn't expecting it but my inner senses told me to be prepared. I was already compressing my muscles on the right side of my body, the side closest to Bill, when he struck.

His fist hurt, but I had already sprung to my left as I felt his arm extend. A microsecond later and I would have been down, and probably out. Instead, the scream of pain flooded into my ear and then converted to energy to spend as I twisted counterclockwise, away from Bill. Most people will lose a fight by offering exactly the maneuver the other person expects. By spinning counterclockwise away from him, I was able to gain rotational momentum. As my right hand came around, my eyes made contact with his and I saw the stunned look on his face mere seconds before I made contact with his neck.

It wasn't a pretty sound. A cracking fist and cracking cartilage can never be duplicated properly in Hollywood. It wasn't pain that caused him to fall back, it was a mouthful of blood that came down his lips.

He fell back, against an anonymous brick wall in this anonymous alley. I fell to a knee and checked on Jeri, who was still crying and saying she was sorry and she trying to fight him off. Her eye looked bad, the tops of her arms had obvious bruises the size of Bill's hands. She'd be OK, at least physically.

I turned to see if Bill was up when his foot made contact with the right side of my jaw. I still have the scar from the jagged metal band of his shoe, my jaw is still a little off-centered when it didn't heal properly.

I flew back, not expecting his attack. Usually people who cough up blood are down for the count. Bill was obviously high, I'd gathered, because his persistence didn't go along with expectations. My jaw was killing me and I felt the wet and warm burn of blood coming down my own face. As I bounced up from my back to my feet, Bill attempted to jump towards me to grab my head. I'm not muscular, but my strength is all core. I was able to easily dodge his bear hug attempt.

Every time he came at me, I dodged his hands and arms. He was yelling, grunting, screaming, swearing at me to keep still. I started to play games with him. "Keep still, you fag." Or what? Are you going to rape me, too? "I'm going to fucking kill you." You're going to fuck and kill me? That sounds like a two-fer.

As he stepped forward to me again, I put my hands backwards on the dumpster and launched both my feet up at his face. Considering he has 6 inches on me, I'm glad I was working out my traps which gave me added height and kicking power. As my heels made contact with his mouth, he fell straight backwards. A split second later, I was standing over him, he was spitting out a tooth or two.

His hands were not prone, they were grasping at the rocky road beneath him. His forearm muscles were tight, and it was clear that he was ready to get up and try to take me down again. I turned to the restaurant back door 5 feet away and saw 4 cement cinder blocks stacked on top of each other, cigarettes put out on the top block. I grabbed the top block, heaved it to my left and dropped it on Bill's chest before he found a way to pull himself up.

The cracking sounds of ribs only echoed in my head for a split second, replaced by sirens. As I looked down on him again, the cement block knocking the wind out of him, the red and blue strobes coming from behind my car were getting brighter on the alley walls, on his face, on Jeri's white tank top as she lay passed out.

I turned to face the police car, trapped by my own car. I put my hands on top of my head, my fingers laced together. The officers had called for backup, and not 30 seconds later another cop car was coming down the alley from the opposite direction. Only once they had their positions safe did they come out.

To be continued in part II.

Room Mates

I'd known Carla for years. Her and I dated for maybe 6 weeks. It was a beautiful short term relationship. Both of us had gotten out of longer relationships, with us being the breaker-uppers. We met at a wine tasting, with her admiring my happy attitude and talkative rapport with other guests. She approached me.

We chatted, sipping wine, laughing about some of the horrible plonk the store was trying to pawn off on those who don't know better. We chatted about cheese, about favorite secret wine bars, about cigars. She was younger than I would have guessed (25, I guessed 27), but right in line with my age range. I was 23 myself.

She wrote down her number on the back of a business card. "Don't call the number on the face, I let that one go to voice mail." Home number? "Yeah. Call me when you want to get together again." I would.

I was doing a lot of travel, so I honestly didn't get around to calling her the next week but the week after. She answered when I called at 7pm on a Thursday night. We chatted for about 10 minutes, and I pitched her the idea to get together the following week. She was busy both nights (Monday and Tuesday) but said she'd make any other day free, offering Wednesday. "I'll buy." I agreed, and appreciated that she'd cover the date because she counteroffered.

The date went well, and we slept together on the third date. It was a little bit out of the blue: she was interested in me, certainly, but I felt that her attraction towards me fell short. After our short term love affair came to a close (mutual), she did admit to me that I was not really her body type, but that she loved my energy and mood. We agreed to be friends, and we were.

For years Carla and I would run into each other in very odd ways: I met her at a wine tasting in Kentucky (don't knock it, some Kentucky wines are really good). I ran into her crossing planes in Denver (she was getting off the plane I was going to board). I ran into her in Chicago on occasion, once doubling up our mutual dates into a 4some that was hilarious and a little bit scary (I think my date liked her date, oops).

We'd hang out at her place, popping open old bottles of wine I discovered on my regular treks to France. Sometimes they were amazing, other times they were vinegar, or worse.

In 2001, she called me up and said her roommate needed an uplifting experience. Her boyfriend of 6 years was cheating on her, and she needed to just drink and drown her sorrows. Who better to take a sad gal out than Sane, she thought. I agreed, and we made plans for the next night.

That night was a raging experience of ridiculousness. I hired a limo since the 3 of us were going to get plastered. I set us up with bottle service across the city, and we hit 3 clubs before 4am closed us off. The limo took us back to their place, with her roommate, drunk, falling asleep on the couch. She hit her bedroom, so I took the roommates bed myself. My head was spinning even when I woke up at 7am.

They were knocked out, so I took it on myself to help them out during this depressing time. I did their dishes, cleaned up the bathroom, and even ran 2 loads of laundry for them. Breakups can cause total shutdown of the person dumped or the person hurt. There's nothing wrong with pitching in for friends when they need you. I know some women are aghast at the idea of a man doing their laundry or cleaning their bathroom, but it was the least I could do.

Around 1pm, the roommates still blacked out, I returned to the roommates room to take a nap. I needed it, I was dead tired from working hard for the past 5 hours. Around 4pm, I woke up to the roommate, Ela, kissing my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes to figure out who it was, and found her in her bed with me.

"Good morning. Afternoon, I guess. I noticed you cleaned up around here." Yeah, I'm an early riser, regardless of what time I get to bed. "Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed that done, and not by me." Of course I know, I've been there. You're kissing me. "That's not the only thing I need."

I turned to her and pressed against her and enveloped her in my arms and my mouth. She moaned quickly, and often. "I need you today." I smiled and nodded. As our clothes slowly fell away and the sun was beating through the window around 5pm, her door opens. Carla notices what's going on and yelps a bit. "Whoa, you two, what the fuck?"

I turn to look at her closer and smile. She came to me, not the other way around. "It's cool. He's mine for today," Ela told her. Carla seemed a bit perplexed, but she closed the door behind her and ventured into the room. "How about we take care of that thing?" she told Ela.

Ela looked at me, Carla looked at me. What thing? "You know. Have your way with both of us." I smile and explained to them that the fantasy is usually better than the reality. Unless they had any digs for one another. "No, just you. Ela knows about our wild ride so long ago," Carla said, in a cute-but-sexy manner.

Ok, but understand I'm just one little boy. "I didn't think you lied," Carla chuckled. She was in bed with us, down to her panties and bra, snuggling in behind me as I returned to kissing her roommate.

I kissed Ela, but also kissed Carla. Ela grabbed Carla's hand when I removed her bra and nuzzled up against her breasts. Carla had the best nipples I had ever seen, and she definitely liked attention on them. I made sure to do it teasingly, but didn't avoid them as I usually do. Ela, who had much smaller boobs, didn't like them played with so much (maybe because she wasn't secure with their smaller size). I teased her too, and the two girls held hands while I wandered their arms, their bellies, their thighs and their calves. At one point, both completely naked, they hooked one leg each over at the knee, giving me a great view and a quick path to switching roommates.

I asked them why they didn't kiss. "Ummm," said Ela, "it's a bit weird." I looked up and saw that Carla was looking at Ela, with Ela looking at me. Don't you find her amazingly attractive? Ela turns to Carla, and Carla kisses her. That's better.

And what a kiss it was. The hands that were previously held starting pawing at the other's body. If it was a guy and a gal, I would yell at the guy for being such a tiger, but in this case there might have been months of pent up desire from one combined with intrigue from the other. I proceeded to go down on Ela, who was obviously more turned on that Carla. While they kissed and bit and pinched and pulled at each other, I brought Ela off in my mouth in very short order.

I got out of my boxers as I stood up to go wash up. The girls were entwined in each other, with Carla on top of Ela, kissing her deeply, both running theirs hands through each other's brown locks. It was quite a site.

I came back in and searched for condoms. "They're in the bottom drawer," said Ela. I found them and tore a package to get one on. Ela had her legs spread with Carla on top, both their mounds touching and rubbing. I spread Carla's legs as best as I could and pushed in. Carla's pussy is the perfect tightness for me, and she never was worn out even if I fucked her for hours. I forgot how much I loved it: not too wet initially, but it would get wetter and wetter as I pumped into her.

Carla came in less than 20 minutes and Ela held her as she did. That was sex worth waiting so many years for again. As Carla relaxed, I started to pull her slowly from Ela's mouth. They were kissing for over an hour. Carla's darker skin was beautiful on Ela's pale skin, but I wanted to see more. Carla grabbed at the sheets a bit, knowing what I was doing as her face passed Ela's neck, her tits, her belly. As her own pussy was sitting over the edge of the bed, her face was perfectly aligned with Ela's. She looked a bit nervous as she threw me a side-glance. Ela looked down and begged for her to do it.

She did.

I hadn't come yet, so I removed my condom and went to the top of the bed, sticking my hard cock in Ela's mouth. She wasn't that talented, but the sounds of her moans pushing through the sound of spit and precum was amazing. I grabbed the back of her head, turned sideways toward me, and slowly pushed my cock head deeper into her mouth and throat. She gagged once in awhile, but eventually loosened up and I was able to slowly slide into her almost fully. Her eyes would always open whenever I breached the back of her throat, but she didn't gag again. When I turned to see Carla lapping up at her, I had enough. I warned her that I was going to come, and pulled my cock out just in time for my first stream to spurt across the edge of her chin and onto her tits. The second stream was a lot stronger, landing closer to her belly and some into Carla's long hair. The third one landed on her tits, and the fourth in her open mouth.

As she accepted the rest of my load, she came. She had her hands in Carla's hair, running her fingers through the hair, my come load, and her scalp. She came hard, too, harder than when I went down on her. As she was coming down, Carla crept up to her, running her tongue up her body, picking up some of my come along the way. She looked up at Ela, and then looked at my face and smiled. Some of my come was on her chin, too. It was a lovely view.

I was still hard, holding back my orgasm so I wouldn't make too big of a mess. Some women are picky about come on their bodies, on their faces, in their throats, so I wanted to be a gentleman and reduce the mess. "You still taste amazing," said Carla. "Yeah, you do. I could go for more of that," said Ela. Carla rolled off of Ela, and the two of them noticed my cock was still hard.

"You fucked me, you gave her head, what's next?" asked Carla. I grabbed another condom from the night stand as I stuck my cock in Carla's mouth. She was amazing at head, one of the best. Surprisingly, Ela took it deeper and with fewer problems, but Carla just knew how to do it right. In a few minutes, I shoved her face from my crotch and put a condom on.

Carla rolled over Ela to her left, and I approached her from her right. I grabbed her legs and turned her 90 degrees. I pulled her waist to the edge of the bed and asked her to pull her pussy lips apart. She was still wet, and did what I told her.

I stuck my cock head right up to her pussy and waited. "Please." What? "Fuck me, please." I did. Slowly, but with deep force, I pushed inside. Ela was ridiculously tight, and I didn't want to tear her. After a few minutes, she was opening up to me, incredibly wet and gorgeous with my cum smeared on her body and chin. I was standing, and Carla knelt on top of her face, her pussy put right up to Ela's lips. Sadly, I was not able to kiss Carla as her roommate licked her clit, but I put my hands all over Ela's body, caressing her with every stroke in and out of her.

I pumped hard into Ela's tight pussy, it grabbing me with each stroke. She had her hands on Carla's thighs, and I could see her tongue stabbing at Carla's clit and into her pussy. It was an incredible site, and I actually had to focus on what I was doing or I'd have come too quickly for sure.

We fucked in that position for 15 minutes when Carla said she was tired. I pulled Ela out without warning, flipped her onto her belly and told Carla to lay down so she could finish. As I pounded into Ela in this position, she started to moan loader, which caused Carla to moan from the clit tickling she was getting. I licked my finger and shoved it into Ela's tight ass as she came on my cock, on my finger, her tongue on Carla's pussy and her hands on her hips.

As Ela came, I forced another finger into her ass and pushed down, feeling my cock pumping inside. Carla saw what I was doing, and then she herself came. I kept pumping into Ela as she came down, and Carla finished her orgasm at almost the same time. Carla's hands fell to the sheets, and she collapsed on Carla's mound.

I pulled out of her pussy, and I snuggled up to both of them as Ela also found motivation to move up to nuzzle into Carla's neck. I pulled my condom off, knowing neither gal was able to handle anymore.

The sun had set.

Finally Carla looked up and noticed I was stroking my cock. "Not done?" I can finish. She nudged Ela, who may have dozed off. Ela rolled over onto her back, and I knelt up near her face. I popped my cock into Ela's sleepy mouth, and she grinned. Carla reached up and stroked the base of my cock as I fed it only partially into Ela's mouth. "Come for us, Sane. On us, whatever you want." It didn't take long with them both begging me to shoot my second load.

And I did. I came across their tits, their necks. Carla licked some off of Ela's neck as I shot my third load into her forehead and hair. Ela finished my final spurts in her mouth, with Carla licking her clean of any evidence of the fact that I emptied a big load across her body. I collapsed, with Ela rolling over to cuddle against me, and Carla spooning into her roommate.

We all napped for a few hours, one of the roommates waking us all up at midnight. "I'm fucking hungry." I turned on the lamp on the nightstand and looked at the room. It was a mess: clothes strewn everywhere, condoms and wrappers on the floor, two beautiful 20-somethings in a bed I was napping in just half a day ago. I kissed Ela, then Carla, and asked what they wanted to eat.

We ended up driving to a Burger King that was open late: Carla wearing Ela's shirt, Ela wearing Carla's. We talked and laughed and told stupid jokes. We all ate double Whoppers, drinking Diet Colas, munching on onion rings. At 2am, I dropped them off, getting a last kiss from Ela who sat in the front seat. We all had a great need fulfilled, and I knew it wouldn't happen again.

Ela and I fucked a few times after that, with Carla's blessing. Carla was sort of seeing someone and it was taking a serious turn, plus the roommates discussed the threesome a few days later and both loved each other more for it, but were not looking to duplicate a night of lust and passion and desire and love. I don't think they've done it again, but I still talk to both on Facebook, and I wonder if all 3 of us will be single, lonely, and hot for contact. They don't live with each other anymore, but one can dream.

Definition: Enty (Enties)

The Enty is almost always a woman, usually one with an aggressive behavior. I came up with the term "Enty" about 20 years ago when I was stuck on coming up with funny sentences based on word spellings.

I had a girlfriend at the time (I was in my teens, she was 20) and she was a real bitchfest of drama. I have no idea why I stayed with her, she was bitchy, PMSy constantly, and loved to blow things way out of proportion. Most items she moaned about were not even important: "Why did you leave your closet light on this morning? Don't you know it kills people!" or "I really don't like rye bread" So why did you order it? "I don't want to make a fuss." Then she'd moan about the rye bread she ate for the entire day.

After about 4 months of dating, I had enough. I didn't really like her, and every moment I spent with her I found her less and less attractive. I had decided to break up with her that weekend, and worked hard not to make any plans with her. This made her even more bitchy, which was almost a positive side effect. "Movies?" I'm not sure. "Dinner?" We'll see. "Come over to my place?" If there's time.

Friday rolled around and I hopped over to her place. She was bitching to me the night earlier on the phone about how we didn't make any plans. This taught me how to be adaptable, so I learned at least one positive thing from the short term relationship. When I was in her place, she nagged at me for clashing my shoes with my belt. Yes, mother.

I never argued with her, I never fought back. There's no purpose, it's useless. I'd just nod, not really agreeing with her verbally. Eventually she calmed down.

I think this relationship is getting worse by the day. "What do you mean, worse?" I don't think we should be seeing each other. "Am I ugly? Fat? Boring?" I wanted to say yes, yes, yes but the fact was that she was none of these things, not in reality. In my mind, she was all of them. We just don't click when it comes to managing our feelings. "That's because you're cold!" I had just had a bad week 2 weeks ago, and almost had reduced myself to tears. When she saw it, she said "Don't be a baby."

So she ranted about why I was wrong, why we were fine, why things were only getting better (mostly because she taught me to shut my trap and I never talked, ever). I listened. Then I said I appreciated her thoughts, but I wasn't happy and it was obvious that she wasn't happy either (this part was a lie, but it worked). She thought about it and asked if we'd be friends. I said maybe, but not right away. In reality, we were never friends again until many years later, after she took a poor sap of a husband and introduced me to some of her gal pals (who generally hated her, but put up with it).

We hugged. She cried a little bit. I told her she's beautiful and the right guy will come along, and I'm glad she understood. I was a little sad myself, but I can't think to this day of WHY I was sad. It wasn't that serious, and I didn't like her much. Maybe it was because she was pretty (I don't fall into that trap again!).

As I turned to leave, she said "See you around, Sane." I repled "See you, Enty."

She never got it.

Now, whenever I meet a woman who is a bitch of a woman, I'll call her Enty to my friends. I know two women who are roommates, and they're horrid people. I call them the Enties.

For those who don't understand, highlight below the lines:

----------
See You, Enty = C U N T
See You, Enties = C U N Ts

Get it, now?
----------

So be it.  It works for me.