Catnip Girl



Beneath a light bulb that flickers whenever we fuck, there are over a dozen notepads on the shelf above the bed that remain empty save for a few elicit drawings of women and their womanly parts. Each time I attempt to write, nothing comes to mind. Not even after I come from taking her from behind does anything flicker. Instead, there are images with no voice. Faces with no name. Mountains that belong underwater that appear in photographs of the town I grew up in which I know is impossible, it just has to be. After I pump away and the feeling numbs my lower half, I slide off and lay there on my back as she complains about the love bites I gave her. Getting up and studying herself in the vanity mirror, she howls with agitation at the sight of them all over her neck. Her eyes daggers as she spins around and mouths off at me, I can’t help but laugh. But the sight of all them blank notepads. The thought that I haven’t touched the book in months. What a wasterman I’ve become, but it’s always the same. Whenever I get with a woman, I become tame. I lose my edge. Sex remains constant, but my creative juices dry up until there’s not much there at all. If it’s not the drink, it’s women, if it’s not women, it’s a lack of women. If it’s nothing to do with women, it’s something to do with childhood fears I can’t remember but which lurk just out of view. Straightening her hair, she scowls at me in the mirror as I look down and poke my cock. It’s still numb and tingly. She makes a remark that’s supposed to hurt my feelings, but I throw one right back at her concerning the stretch marks on her hips. Jumping off her seat, she attacks me with her hairbrush. Grabbing hold of her in my arms, she tries to wriggle out of my grip, but I bite her ear and give her another hickey. Letting go of the brush, it falls to the floor and rolls under the bed. Attempting to chew my fingers, she resembles a kitten gone mental on catnip. It’s cute but also annoying. Pinning her down, I quickly get up and go to the bathroom making sure to lock the door behind me before jumping in the shower. Pulling back my foreskin, I take the shower head and make sure the blood and come are washed clean off.

7 replies »

  1. Love bites, huh? This one was particularly fascinating. The thought of having a cold corner of self to recede to, to think so passively about sex… it’s a little frightening, but so liberating too. Or maybe I just don’t get laid enough to have gotten there. You need to work on that book, my friend. We need more than these snippets into the darker side of the bed.

    • This piece was based on a memory, so thankfully my days of not writing are behind me. I do enjoy looking at the darker side of sex, the colder side, if you will. It’s so easy to look at fornication through rose-tinted glasses, but I think it’s a lot more interesting when you take a wart-and-all approach. I’m so happy you found it fascinating, though 🙂

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