The following morning he woke up very satisfied, still on the ground where he cried his eyes out the night before after a long gaze at his father’s picture. Benedict was very sexually satisfied and the last thing he remembered was the arousing sexy ooze in Samantha’s voice that made him horny as hell. He almost gave in, she almost paid him a visit but then he decided he is better off taking matters into his own hand. He ended his call, raised his right hand in the air and asked as he looked at it with a fake pale smile on his face, “How was your day?”

The hand didn’t answer; it just gave him a good treat before he fell asleep.

Of course as he did so he knew the following morning he would regret not having Samantha come over or going himself to her place. Nothing would ever match the feel of a real woman, the scent of her perfume, the looks of wanting, the panting of satisfaction, and the sweet sweat of intimacy and well, the noises his ancient bed makes while things get intimate like it is warning him of its plan to finally crash and go out of service. But after all for Frank, Masturbation has always been the answer. His last days as a married man were full of that. In fact his last year of marriage was a huge one year masturbation plot.

Frank, still had one hand in his pants and the other holding the article, not implying that it had anything to do with his treat but in fact Frank didn’t wanna let go of the article and the picture accompanying it since he found it like it was his last ray of hope, like that picture gave him an objective in life, like that picture was something that would make a difference, a change that he is in dear need for. Frank is not that much of a believer, he is not that much of a man who would honor his principles, if he ever had any; but to be fair there are some traits he should always be given credit for and believing in fate was one of those traits. Frank knew it since he saw the picture in the article that it was predestined that he walks down that dark alley, he finds the magazine and he sees this article specifically or at least he did assume it was so. He knew that it is a sign of something or a sign leading to something but what that thing was, is what he couldn’t figure out. The tears that he cried the night before were so real although the man cannot remember having his father around, Samuel Benedict was done with our world by the time Frankie was two, that’s how he used to call him and how his mother used to call him, Frankie. He may not remember his father calling him so, but he always had this deep feeling that he can hear his voice in his head, like it was haunting him or warning him or giving him another chance to set his life straight, to set his wandering aimless soul free. And he always tried to keep up with the voice and he always seemed to fail, one failure after the other. He must have achieved some sort of a world record of failures. Who cares anyways?

Frank looked at the article again, gazed at the picture again. When a man dies defending his principles and fighting for a good cause that he stands for, that would imply one fundamental fact; this man’s life did not go in vain. Knowing that and believing in it Frank started thinking, kind of interrogating his own self, the voice inside him, “What if you died in your sleep last night with your hands in your pants? What have you died defending? Probably your sexual appetite, isn’t it?”

Frank felt ashamed of his very own actions at that moment, felt ashamed of the feeling that kept haunting him, he has brought the good Samuel Benedict name to the ground with every action he has done for the past few years. A sane person would think the voices that haunt Frank were sort of a wake up call, but they have been there for years, and they had never had a single positive effect on him, maybe momentarily effects were there but in the long-term Frank is the same person he has been everyday for so long he may have actually forgotten how he was before he became what he is now, he doesn’t try to remember anyways. If there is one thing that these voices have proved, then it is that Frank is a hopeless case, someone who keeps hitting a new low everyday. And the previous night compared to any other night, he has hit rock bottom, he did not even respect the article in his left hand as he gave himself a special gift with the right hand, the gift of sexual satisfaction, the great gift of masturbation.

The phone rang, and the lazy Benedict had to let go of the uncomfortable ground sleep if he wanted to take the call and so he did. All he could hear was panting and some static in the call. He did the usual routine of several hellos and he had no reply come back to him and so he hung up like a normal person would.

He walked to the washroom and showered, he finally washed off the dirt that has been all over him for the past couple of days and when he was done getting all cleaned up he prepared a hot cup of cocoa for himself. Frank wasn’t that interested in cocoa nor did he love it anymore but it always reminded him of his mother, her tenderness, the hot chocolaty drink that he loved to have before he went to school every morning and before he hit the sack every night. They say everything changes, maybe his love for cocoa did, but his love for his mother, and his love for the rituals he had as he grew up, with her taking care of him every single moment of every single day has never changed. You can kill a man’s conscience. You could put it to sleep like every aging dog but there is one thing of value no one ever lets go off, memories, and especially ones of those you love.

As he had his first sip of the big glass of cocoa he remembered his first day without cocoa ever, his first day without his mother. That’s when things started getting ugly for him, that’s when he kept making new records of new lows each and every day. Frank took a second sip as his phone rang one more time. He picked up and he got no where with that, the same panting, the same static, the same routine and then again he had to give up and hang up. He then decided to watch some TV. There was a baseball game on, just another memory, baseball, the sport he has always loved, but now is just one of the many things that are there on his tiny TV screen, something as insignificant as any other thing that is displayed there. Seems like, nothing could ever carry any meaning or significance for him, at least not now, not anymore.

The phone kept ringing for the next five hours, every half hour, not once did the caller miss calling, and not once did Frank miss picking up and not once did he get anywhere with his hellos.

Then the phone rang again and this time Frank got a reply from the other end of the call, “Hey Benny Boy, I was worried about you.”

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Frank realized at that moment getting a Caller ID, an answering machine, anything that would get him to screen his calls and skip the unwanted moments would be the smart move, the intelligent one.

In a quite angry tone he asked, “Were you calling all day long?”

The very same sexy voice from last night went on, “No, this is my first call today baby.”

“And are you planning on calling every single fucking day?”

“What’s the matter with you now? You were eased up by the end of the call last night and then you hung up all of a sudden with a promise to call back and never did and now you are acting all weird. Cool down baby, you needn’t do the routine every single call. Just relax.”

“Hang up, bitch.”

Frank knew if he let the call go on he is gonna give in to her, he hated the way she kept asking him to ‘relax’, in fact he hated the effect of her way of saying the word and not her way. As for her way, it just drove him hornier and wanting her more which was not what he wanted to happen, not the effect he needs to have when it comes to Samantha. It is true that Samantha is hot, true that she is sexy, true that she knows how to rock a man’s world in bed, this man in particular, and true that it would be really great to have someone in bed for one night just for a change of pace, someone in bed or someone around this joke of a flat, all the same. Yet he didn’t want her there. He wanted her to stay put where she was, as far away from him as possible even with the hormones in his body yelling at him asking him to give up, requesting him to submit to her, ordering him to give in.

“I am coming over, baby.”

Frank kept trying to resist the temptation as she kept talking and inviting herself over to his place. He knew she wouldn’t give up unless she got what she wanted, the night before she got him all relaxed and she now seems to be planning to get him to give her the relaxation she needs. She is gonna have her fix, now that she has already in some cyber way started giving him his. Frank knows she wouldn’t again fall for the ‘I will call you back’ statement, and he knows there is nothing he could do about it except resist with words, keep resisting until he either wins or gives in or find an alternative plan.

“Benny, I thought I made it clear, I am not taking no for an answer.”

“Isn’t it too early in the morning to be coming over just for sex?”

“Oh Benny Baby isn’t it too late to say words thinking they would embarrass me or talk me out of getting there?”

His eyes had a bright look as he said in a low tone, “Ok Samantha, I will be waiting.”

That being said he ended the phone call, he ended it and walked out of the door with no specific destination in mind, just a long aimless walk. The whole day flew by as Frank walked around and around on a road to no where. He then decided to go back home being sure deep inside that he is not gonna have to meet Samantha. The day almost ended until a few minutes after the old clock on his wall covered in spider webs hit midnight. That was when he heard a knock on his door. The only person he could think of at that moment was Sam with a hope deep inside him, more like a prayer that it wouldn’t be her.

Posted by Unknown on Tuesday, August 29, 2006 at 2:14 PM | Permalink