Regret is an odd thing to consider for a man whose moral compass has no true north. The consideration of what constitutes regrettable likely differs from that of the average Joe. Taking it a step further into weird-ass territory, when you consider something that might be regrettable you're looking at a future state of remorse over past events. Anticipating an action, or worse a non-action, that could haunt me in some way is a natural thing to do but is odd when you think about it. However, even those with as fast and loose of a style of living such as myself have pensive moments in which possible ramifications must be considered. Stay with me here.
When Heather asked me whether I would be interested in a purely carnal relationship with her that had no strings attached, my knee-jerk reaction was to close the tab and call for a cab. You will remember though, that I said such relationships are essentially the Sasquatches of human interaction. There is anecdotal evidence of such things occurring but nothing that conclusively proves they exist. You hear stories of friends of friends who had this great thing going when they were overseas but no one you actually know and trust can confirm their existence. At best, the stories are akin to the famous Patterson photo of Bigfoot, a blurry portrait of something that seems a little fishy.
Despite my misgivings, the reality is that a beautiful woman has suggested we retire for the evening, throw on some adult contemporary music and find out what we look like naked. There is no plausible argument I can make against such a well thought out plan. Logic in its purest form is stupefying.
So begins the joie de vivre of free love with Heather. Our amorous liason can be summarized in one simple word: fuckbuddy. I assumed when she suggested a purely physical relationship there would be an occasional dinner or drinks and perhaps even a movie from time to time. It turns out, Heather was pretty literal. Our trysts were preplanned events of consummation in which the only variables were choices of music, I was really into Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at the time but she preferred the erection softening sounds of Iron and Wine, and whether the lights were on or off. Of course, there was a Kama Sutra's worth of other options once the festivities commenced, but anything outside of the pure mechanics of it all was limited. She was even reticent about opening a bottle of wine or having a cocktail as she didn't want to risk things ever resembling a date.
So, our contract, I can no longer refer to it in anything other than legal terms, consisted of a phone call to set the date and time, a knock at the door - and it was always her door, never mine, a little small talk and then getting down to the matter at hand. It was polite and perfunctory until the moments of pants on the ground and then it turned into a no-holds-barred cage match of skin on skin.
Remember the scene from the old Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with Gene Wilder, when the kids first enter the grand room with chocolate rivers and candy flowers and they all go ape-shit until the fat kid gets sucked into a giant tube? There were a few minutes where the kids were running through the room and trying out everything. That was Heather. She scored five golden tickets and wanted to cash them in for full face value. It was almost as if she had a list she was checking off.
Outside of her den of lust, I was allowed to live my life however I pleased and see whoever I wanted. She only asked that I be safe, but that was to be expected. Likewise, she was free to act as she pleased. We were two independent adults with the only ties that bind being the fuzzy handcuffs she kept in her nightstand.
One evening after arriving at her house, I suggested we step out for something to eat as I was starving. There was this groovy little Ethiopian place around the corner and I thought scooping up lamb wat and lentils with our hands might sort of set a different mood. By the look on her face, you would have thought I suggested a quick run down to the border to catch a donkey show before settling in for the evening. She was shocked and so we had a sit down to discuss our unwritten, and really mostly unspoken, rules. We weren't to do anything together outside of her place. She wanted to keep this part of her life separate from the rest.
After my Ethiopian suggestion was shot down, I explained that perhaps a little variety might spice things up. Despite the fact I was spending a lot of time in the buff with a very sexy woman, it was becoming routine. She told me she felt my timing was impeccable because she had recently began to feel the same way. She took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom.
She had me remove my clothes, and she did likewise, and then she walked across her bedroom to the bookshelf. In the dim candlelight of the room I could see her fooling around with something and then I saw a tiny red light come on. She turned back to me wearing only the sensuous smile I first saw her with that day at Whole Foods and turned both of her hands, palms up, towards the device as if she were presenting prizes on The Price is Right.
"I think we should document the time we spend together."
This moment, combined with the Iron and Wine, made me instantly flaccid. I waited for a laugh or a punchline but nothing came.
"Wait, you want to make a sex tape?"
"Yes, I think we should record ourselves. I think it would turn up the heat a notch."
"If you want more heat we could just change this song."
My attempt at humor was also flaccid. Then something occurred to me.
"Whoa! Hold on - how long has that camera been there?"
"It's always been there."
I get panic.
She noticed the concern on my face and jumped in to assure me that she had never recorded anything but had been waiting for the right time to pitch it to me. She thought, in light of my need for a little variety, this would be the perfect time.
I am unconvinced., "You realize that sex tapes are never a good idea. They always end up online somewhere and generally surface at the worst possible time."
"Jackson, I can't believe you're so scared! I thought this would be exciting for you."
"Look, it is exciting but I just don't want to do something that one of us might one day regret."
Did I just say that out loud?
"Why don't we try it tonight and then we can watch it together and if we decide we don't want to keep it, we will delete it immediately."
It might have been the sudden shock or the fact that I really needed to eat something, but I didn't have much in the form of a counterargument. So, I went along for the ride.
Heather was apparently a method actress and once the camera was going she was Jenna Jameson meets Sasha Grey with a little bit of that mechanical bull thrown in for good measure. I should have stretched and downed some Gatorade before because I was on the point of dehydration and had torn a hamstring by the time we were done. I was lying there, covered in sweat and worrying whether my penis would ever again work correctly when she asked me if I was ready to watch our movie. She asked sweetly, as if we were going to watch a film from our first family Christmas instead of the hedonistic ritual we had just completed that likely stripped me of my ability to produce offspring.
She looked great on camera. She looked like she had just stepped from costume and make-up and was as fresh as a sunrise on the beach. Me? I looked like the guy who wandered into his first yoga class and didn't notice it was advanced. I was sweating and shaking and occasionally grimacing. Some of the positions caused me to tremble and I am certain it cannot be healthy for my face to look that red. While her beautiful face radiated ecstasy mine looked more like a poster for a prostate exam.
As soon as it ended I told her we should erase it but she ignored my request, rolled over on top of me and said her loins were burning. Mine were too but mostly from friction and overheating. She was not to be denied.
'My loins are burning.' - who the fuck says that?
The first thing I did when I woke up the next morning was delete the video. If a sex tape of me does ever leak out, I at least want to look like I was having a good time. She woke up right as I was putting the camera back down.
"What are you doing?"
"I deleted the video."
"Good, then we'll have to make another."
"Right. Maybe I should spend a few days on my own working on the choreography?"
"Or maybe you can just come back tonight and we can improv?"
I gave her a kiss, we had our own protocol that allowed for such things, and made a hasty exit. I was still starving so I stopped off for a bagel and coffee on the way back to my place. I sent her a text later that day saying something had come up and I couldn't make it to her place that night. I called up my pal Eddie and asked him to meet for drinks later.
I met Eddie at The Daily Pint, a dive bar near his office. It had the same piss and beer dive bar smell so many little joints like that had. Ike joined us a little later and the three of us threw back whiskey and beer for most of the night while I brought them up to speed on my recent adventures.
Eddie thought the whole thing was hilarious but didn't believe me when I told him how hot Heather was.
"Look man, all I am saying is that one of the hottest girls we'll ever see is a girl we will never see who also happens to be sex starved. I'm just not sure I buy it."
Ike chimed in with his own take. "I for one believe Sport. He does a lot of seedy things but lying isn't one of them. If he says he's banging a sexy Mormon nymphomaniac then I believe him."
I look over at Ike, slightly surprised. "What kind of seedy things do you think I do?"
Ike smiled, "You hang out with us, for one. That's enough to damn a man right there."
The three of us took a drink to that. Eddie shook his head and then smiled over at me.
"You're her giggolo holmes. You're like a tabernacle boy-toy."
This really cracked Eddie up.
Ike couldn't resist either, "She has you by your latter day taint."
Now I had two hyenas in tears next to me - one on either side. A few minutes of hysteria were followed with a couple more one-liners. Then the humor of it all began to subside.
"Look sport, might as well see this thing through. I'm sure it will play itself out shortly."
I considered Ike's advice and then raised a toast to seeing it through.
Who knew it would play itself out faster than any of us had anticipated?
Originally posted at www.igetpanic.com