The Star of the Porno Downstairs

I was nervous about who might be moving in after the neighbors under me moved. They were quiet.

I listen to hardcore. But I have rules. I listen for only an hour at the level where somebody might hear it, and not before 10am or after 10pm. I also walk barefoot, and lightly.

We have to be reasonable about apartment life. You expect to hear vague rumblings of movement. Maybe you’ll hear people screwing.

People would tell me how they heard neighbors screwing. I never did, until now.

Finally, a month after the great neighbors below me moved, someone moved in. After a week I thought, Gee, he masturbates loudly.

While exercising lying on the floor, I heard his usual loud crying out. I pressed my ear to the floor. Gasp! I heard the woman!

This couple below me fuck almost every day!

And he’s loud for a dude! Usually you just hear the chick. I had a guy once who screamed like he was being murdered. The inflection of his screaming wasn’t sexual where it trails off ecstatically. It was more like a blood curdling scream.

I had to know what this new couple looked like.

But the nerve of this guy coming up to my apartment at 9:30pm on the weekend to complain about my music. It wasn’t that loud, for chrissake.

He knocks on my door. I’m naked and can’t open it.

Yes, I say through the peephole.

I’m your neighbor downstairs.

It’s the “fucking” guy! You need me to turn my music down?

Yeah.

Okay. I’m sorry. Goodnight, I says.

I tried getting a look at him through the peephole. I saw he was wiry. I had missed the opportunity to meet the star of the porno downstairs. Hey – I’ll throw on clothes and go down there – apologize about not opening the door – I’ll say I want to properly introduce myself.

So I knock on his door — and the “fucking” guy – he did what I had done and didn’t open his door.

Hi, just wanted to say I didn’t mean to be rude by not opening the door. I was getting ready to shower before, which is why I couldn’t open the door, I lie.

He tells me through the peep hole, Oh yeah, me too, now.

Uh, okay — have a good night, I says.

The “fucking” guy was probably naked and getting ready to fuck again.

I did meet him in the elevator last week and properly introduced myself. It was great! He wasn’t bad looking.

I think I might’ve finally met his girl too. Yesterday I got on the elevator with a red head. We said hello then she got off on the floor below mine and walked in the direction of the line I’m in – that had to be her!

Now, it’s white noise to me – sort of – I guess – unless I’m having a spell, you know.

I suppose I should “get a life.”

 

 

An Excerpt from “Doody Lady”

 

Using some kind of a special cake-cutting method where she carved out a circle in the center of the cake, Doody Lady then sliced neat little squared-off pieces from this perfectly round cake.  Damn she was talented!  I always wondered how people did that.  In awe I watched her cut the entire cake this way.  She commanded that space, standing, expert, with her long pony tail swinging ever so slightly above the crack of her ass.  Jason staggered over with a drink in his hand to help give out the neat pieces of cake that Doody Lady had placed on small, thin paper plates at the end of the bar counter by the kitchen.  After licking his fingers of stray icing, he handed me a piece, an end piece with more frosting on it than cake.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm!  You don’t know boy!  I love’s me some frosting,” I told him.

“Bon appétit,” he said, and I stubbed out my cigarette and anticipated the cake.

I had given Doody Lady that name anyway and wasn’t I twisted?  Don’t we all move our bowels?  I grabbed the cake and relished it, suppressing my urge to get up and hump at the air in a feigned fucking of the cake, or to moan and to close my eyes rapturously behind each forkful of thick, white frosting.  I took the rest of my cake to sit with Dmitri and George in the booth.  I pat the seat for George to sit on the same side with Dmitri and me so that I was between them.  We ate our cake without speaking.  We closed our eyes and nodded at each other between forkfuls.  We moaned between mouthfuls, breathed in deeply and exhaled, then licked our forks clean of frosting.

THANKS FOR READING — NOW APROPOS OF NOTHING I’M SHARING THE SONG I LISTENED TO WHILE POSTING (I SAID I’D BE POSTING MORE VIDEOS) — THIS SONG HAS ONE OF THE BEST LINES EVER — “I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU, I JUST WANT TO KILL YOU!”