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October 1998
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A Whore In The Knight

I wasn’t there, natch, but this is the way it went down.

John’s love life sucked. He got laid regularly but so what. They were all one night stands with women who were seriously screwed up. Most of them had boyfriends or husbands who were mistreating them. They were looking for revenge or to make someone jealous or just making a warped play for affection. John felt as though he were a whore servicing screwed up women.

Beth’s love life sucked. She made the bar scene, getting drunk, getting picked up, and getting laid. She didn’t like what she was doing, hated herself for doing it, and couldn’t stop. She felt like kleenex – used once and then thrown away.

They met one night in a singles bar, a drunken meat market. John spotted Beth and recognized her for what she was – the kind of woman who would go home with him for a one night stand. Beth spotted John and recognized him for what he was – the kind of man who would go home with her for a one night stand. They went through their usual routines. He stood her for drinks; she cried on his shoulder drunkenly; they pawed each other.

They both knew what they were after; it didn’t take them long to head over to her place. Their pretense at foreplay was clumsy and didn’t last very long.

They started screwing. All of a sudden, half way through, John stopped, looked down at Beth, and said, “I just don’t want to do this.” Beth looked up at him and he explained, “It’s not you; it’s just that there is nothing here. I don’t feel a damn thing. We’re screwing to be screwing and it doesn’t mean anything. I just can’t do this any more. I was going to fake an orgasm and I don’t even feel like doing that.”

Beth looked at him blankly and then said, “Yeah, it’s like that with me, too. Nothing. I don’t feel one damn thing. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t even get anything out of it. Usually I just fake an orgasm; this time I wasn’t even going to bother.”

“Bitch, ain’t it,” he said. “Yeah, a bitch,” she said and giggled.

They looked at each other.

“Oh, Hell,” he said.

“Oh, Hell,” she said.

They looked at each other.

I guess that was the night that mom and dad first really got it on.


This page was last updated October 10, 1998.
Copyright © 1998 by Richard Harter

Richard Harter’s World
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Essays
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October 1998
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