Frustrated with the way the evening was turning out, I chose not to return to the splashpad with the others. I didn't need any additional temptations distracting me for the rest of the day, especially since I still had an English assignment to finish. What kind of asshole teacher assigns a writing assignment within the first two weeks of the new school year?
I opted into a cold shower first to help with the developing mania stemming from the end of Summer and its conflict with the start of the new semester. Afterward, I sat down and worked on my double spaced, two-page paper on Etymology and the Roots of the English language. For instance, did you know that the term vagina found its meaning from the Latin word for sheath or scabbard? My paper highlighted some of the problematic male centric tendencies our earlier societies had for how words evolved. While the woman's hymen was both named after the Greek God of marriage and represented the Greek word for membrane, testes found itself derived from the much cooler Latin terms for testify, or witness.
These consistent discrepancies created more confusion for me than I thought was worth actually knowing. I had just watched as not only me, but every single one of my buddies had gathered to gawk and pine over the vast amounts of hot ass and titties that were abound on the college campus, soaked to the brim by our local watering hole. Every single one of them came in all types of glorious shapes, sizes, and forms. As valuable as they appeared to be, why and how did we naturally come to objectify them, classify them, and determine an individual's worth by them?
I guess that's one of the reasons I was certain to get an A on this paper. My mind was curious and eager to learn. Even if that included literally everything. I wanted to know what it felt like to penetrate, be penetrated, give, take, pleasure, and taste. They were all worth it. Each and every one of them. My thoughts wandered about, passing back and forth the idea that every unique person might have in turn their own texture, feel, and flavor.
And there it was again... stiff as a rock.
Only this time in my sweatpants, and I looked as though I'd splinted the crotch part outward.
*sigh*
Even words were enough to get me feeling "in the mood". Most people had specific physical appetites. Life just happened to give me an all you can eat buffet where the food isn't always interested, let alone the right body for it. What a sadistic bitch. I'd muster the motivation to start going to the gym tomorrow morning, but for now my mental had reached its absolute limits and I needed to be done with this paper.
I got up from my tiny desk and chair and forced my penis between my legs with the bed by lying on my stomach, tucking it underneath me and cupping my arms underneath my pillow. I used my wrists to prop and pin my head up supported by both elbows. In the corner of my eye glinted a flash of bright, warm color.
That strange business card was there, caught in between my bedframe and the wall. Bright neon yellow with a curvy neon red hash sign next to text which displayed, "Needing a fix of some sweet love and attention? Call 866-GET-SOME" in an obnoxious, but highly effective eye-catching font.
"Fuck it." I said to myself. I could use a little bit of entertainment right now. What better way than to get some jackass to make a fool of himself for me?
I pulled my cellphone from out of my pocket and sent a text to the number first.
Hey, I need some attention.
An automatic reply,
We're Sorry, this number does not accept SMS or MMS at this time. Please try dialing.
That's weird. What kind of person has a phone that ONLY accepts phone calls. I punched in the digits on my phone app and hit call.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring...
"HEYA! Thanks a bunches for calling Sex Extract Co, this is your friendly neighborhood incubus, Riley. You calling to get some attention?!"
"Hey, uh, yeah. I'm looking for attention," I lied, "How much does it cost?"
"Not a thing, besides a little commitment! That aint so bad, huh?!" the voice continued.
I started to feel bad for them. Both the gentleman that showed up at my door earlier and this Riley guy. Everyone does what they have to in order to get by in life and why should I be judging them for that?
"Sure, that isn't so bad. How do I sign up?" I decided to play into his game, let him have even just a moment in the spotlight where someone didn't immediately make fun of him for it.
"Well, I just have a brief questionnaire to go through with ya. Let's start with your sex, you want male or female parts?"
"What?" I asked, momentarily stunned.
"Male or female parts?" he repeated, "or I suppose just about any combination. I'm asking for what anatomical weapons you want to pack!"
"Uh, female," I answered, trying to keep things simple.
"Wonderful! You want an easy, moderate, or intense experience?" he continued.
"What do you mean?" I sought clarification.
"Easy, medium, or hard difficulty? You like games? You play a game before? It is the 21st century for God's sake." he answered.
'Ok, for a fun little gag worker he sure was being a bit of an asshole.' I thought before delivering an answer, "Intense, man, I don't care and lose the fucking attitude."
"Spicyyy. Ok. I think we're going to looove you. Last of all, who's business card are you calling off of?"
Now I was puzzled. I flipped the card around and looked but couldn't see any other characters on it.
"You gotta give it a little rub." he followed up, as if he were in the room watching me struggle with the card.
I started to rub the blank side of the card. "Unnnnhhhh... Mmmmm... Kabo!"
'What the actual fuck.'
The card was audibly moaning. What's more, letters started to form on the back in big, bold black.
K. A. B. O.
"Uh, Kabo?" I answered, unsure of myself.
"Oooooo, he's a good one. Stylish fella too. Alright, that concludes my screening. Have a great time!" he said, enthusiastically.
*CLICK*
That motherfucker just hung up on me. Every aspect of me wanted to call back immediately and give the asshole a piece of my mind, but I had suddenly started to feel incredibly exhausted. Too exhausted to care, really. So instead, I decided instead to just tuck myself into bed, dropping the business card into one of my headboard's cubby holders, hit the sack, and passed out.