Saturday, December 04, 2004

Story of Kim 7: No Sleep At All

I wasn't sure how long I had before Edward made it back to the house, or if, in fact, he was coming back. I couldn't help, though, so I went back inside to wait for the next episode of weirdness to occur.

Janiece and the dope smokers left somewhere around 3am, I guess, and Tiffany and I were finally alone. We talked for a while, me mostly listening (again), and drank a little wine. Somewhere around 5am, things started to get...amorous...

I remember this, and I remember thinking that I could probably "have" this girl if I wanted to. And maybe it was the pot, maybe the events of the evening, but I began to wonder if...if I wanted it.

See kids, while Tiffany told some entertaining stories, she had run through her entire catalog in two and a half nights of what I now recognized as high-speed chatter. I might have been oversensitized by Kim, but I began to doubt whether or not I could actually see Tiffany on a regular basis--and once she started telling me the same tales of Zozobra, I realized I was in for trouble. She was into me, and I was already flinching at the sound of her voice.

Thus, the seed of doubt was planted, or maybe it gestated from a seed of attraction too swollen and hungry to be wholesome. By the time the door burst open, admitting a wild haired and red eyed Edward, I was positively glad for the interruption.

At the time, Edward was doing a lot of "mixed-media" art, and being basically unemployed, found his media wherever he could. This meant that he had a habit of picking up anything shiny that crossed his path, so by the time he'd walked to my house, all of his pockets and both of his hands were completely full of, let's face it, junk. Upon his entry, he sat in the floor and began sorting his plunder.

I decided I'd had enough of just about everything. I informed Edward that I wasn't in any shape to take him home this evening, and since Tiffany was probably going to stay for a while, I'd lend him my blankets so he could sleep on the couch in the living room. I could tell this didn't go over very well, but there was no way in hell I was going to risk a drive to Edmond at that hour, and given all the craziness of the evening, I didn't feel I could ask Tiffany to take him home.

So off he went to the living room, and back she and I went to kissing without taking clothes off. I knew that by sunrise, she would be gone, and I could avoid her calls thereafter. In the meantime, I tried to stay on the right side of the line, sexually.

I think everyone has a few emotional triggers buried in their libidoes. Simply put, you don't do "this" unless you feel "that," and "that" is generally all wound up in what you think your partner (or partners) is feeling. It's a pretty inefficient system, but not an easy one to streamline. My situation was simple: I felt like if all we did was kiss, or at least, if no major sexual activity occurred, I could be OK with never talking to her again.

So I felt like I was finally on top of things, so to speak. Crazy people were either gone or asleep on the couch, warm girl in bed, but not going to stick around. Out of beer and wine, but almost sunrise, and was I ever ready to go to sleep.

Thus, I was pleased when Tiffany noticed the brightening in the windows and headed out to start her car. I was less than pleased when she came back and asked where Edward was. Edward was gone.

Well, shit. I kissed her goodbye, checked all the obvious hiding places in the house and in the back yard, and figured he'd walked down to the payphone and called a ride. Time for a well deserved nap.

Approximately 2 minutes after my head hit the pillow, there was a knock at the door. I ignored it, then remembered I hadn't locked the door, just in case Edward had gone off to sleep in the park or something. I crawled out of bed, grabbed that E&J and, thus fortified, answered the door.

I was greeted with a shirt in the face and the screeching voice of Kim, "THERE'S YOUR SHIRT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"


Her car door slammed by the time I got the shirt untangled from my whiskers and my pint, and squealed out of the driveway, scraping its fiberglass bumper on the slope.

I went back to bed.

What seemed like 15 minutes later, another knock on the door. Awesome. It was Edward, and he was very angry.


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