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A New York Escorts Confessions

Diarrhea…of the Mouth

He came up looking apologetic and clutching a pink notepad. “…Tash gave me a list of what to pack for you.”

“Hi. How are you? I can’t believe she sent you. Your wife is a crazy person. Not that I don’t love her. I hope she didn’t tell you what I said. How was the drive? That’s a nice shirt. Is it cold outside?”

He blinked and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “…she says I should get you some turtlenecks.”

I sighed and let him inside.

Tash knew I was powerless against The Rocket Scientist. She knew his reticence brought out the very worst in me. Confronted with the long silences that came with any exchange with him I suddenly morphed into Chatty Cathy. It was like a tick. I simply couldn’t shut up.

“I was going to call her back but then I fell asleep but I’m awake now. Have you seen The Daily Show? You probably don’t have time to watch it. How do you like Ithaca? I should get some deodorent. Ooh! Are you hungry? I have some stewed bananas. I heard you’re building a patio.”

And then there was the other factor. Because I wasn’t just being facetious. The Rocket Scientist wasn’t an ironic moniker for dumbass. The Rocket Scientist was smart. Really smart. Genius level smart. The Rocket Scientist…well, he’s actually a rocket scientist. I would tell you some of the things he’s done, but frankly I don’t understand any of it.

“Oooh. I haven’t done laundry in a while. I’ll just—you know? I’ll just take my dirty clothes. Because everything important is in there, in the dirty clothes. And some boots. I need boots. What kind of boots do you have in Ithaca? I bet you need ones with good traction. Do you have two cars now?”

When I emerged from the bedroom I expected him to be hitting himself senseless over the head with a frying pan. Instead he was quietly inspecting one of my bottles of absinthe.

“Oooh we’ll take that. Have you ever had absinthe? Do you know it’s not really halucinogenic? I mean it is but you have to have like ten shots of it a day for weeks before anything really happens. That’s not really scientific, it’s just an estimation. I don’t know why it’s even illegal. It seems ridiculous. But we can drink it up there in Ithaca. It will keep us warm. Do you know you’re supposed to carmelize a teaspoon of sugar when you drink it? Well with the rot gut stuff. But this brand is supposed to be higher end. Maybe you don’t need to do that.”

Jesus. How was I going to survive five hours of this? It was like a talking marathon. I was exhausted and sweating. My heart was palpitating. He looked even worse than I did. I suspected he thought I was crazy. I cornered Tash one time and asked her to tell me the truth.

“Of course not.”

“Really? He hasn’t said anything.”

“No.”

“Come on. I don’t believe you. It’s me”

“He just thinks you’re…energetic.”

God only knows what that was a euphemism for.

When we finally exited the building, I got a start. For there she was. Tash. At the wheel of a waiting 93 red SAAB.

“Hello lovey.”

“No way. You snake. You were here the whole time?!”

“Someone had to watch the car.” She smiled a big toothy smile.

“I hate you.”

“You smell.”

I laughed. I was sure she was right. I threw my stuff in the hatch back and climbed into the backseat.

“Alright then. Onward James.”

And we were off.

Comments

thats just a damn funny story! better than any sitcom I have seen this year!

Posted by PEIGUY on Nov 2 08:13AM

Oh Alexa, thank you for giving us a happy ending! :) Hope you have a good time in Ithaca and feel better soon. Take care!

Posted by Pete from Cal on Nov 2 03:04PM

I agree with Pete :-)

Posted by one night stander on Nov 6 12:29PM

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