Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... have that ever again. I was told as much. Real things -- the hope of real things -- I have to let that go. It's all light with no shadow -- wait, no, maybe the other way... fuck. It's like being on drugs forever. It's like dying and going to heaven, but if you're too fucked up, then you don't fit there either. You have to change. You have to make a trade. You have to make a deal."

"Shit," she says. "That's... that's some literary fucking shit. That's... devils and crossroads. Old-world blues. Metal before metal."

I laugh and cry, together. "Yeah, it's some fucked up fucking bullshit. God, Jack, you are everything good in this world, and I'm deciding whether or not to leave it." There it is. Those are the words. I finally got it right.

Jack stands up, walks over, and coaxes me up and into a hug. That's always been our dynamic. It's strange that we're both fully clothed.

"Remember me for you," she says, rocking me back and forth. "Forget me for you. Love someone else for you. Love me for you. You can change. You can heal. You can take a risk. You can do anything."

She's telling me that I can leave. She's doing it warmly and tenderly, and she isn't crying. That doesn't feel quite right to me, but what do I know? I'm super fucked up in the head.

She pulls away enough so that she can kiss my forehead. It's not something we do, but she does it. She finds my watering eyes. Hers are stalwart -- ever stalwart. "If you want to remember me," she begins. "If you want ...

... to think of me... think of me loving you. I do, and always will. It's not an anchor. It's not a chain. It's a flower in a field. Maybe you'll go and live somewhere else, but it's still there, and it's still beautiful. Leaving it there in the soil, under the sun, next to the river or the lake... that's not killing it. That's not ending it. It's moving on with your life, for you. Once upon a time, you lay in a field and took in its beauty. You smelled its essence. You stroked its petals. Then it was time to go, and that story ended. Don't let that be the last story, Corin. Start another one. A little fantasy. A little science fiction. Try something new. Go somewhere new. See how it feels."

I sniffle and sputter. I try to listen to and understand what she's saying, but I know it's one of those things where I need time. Right now, I think a strange thought, and though I wish I weren't thinking it, it's not so bad. If dickgirls ruled the floor just below heaven instead of men, that's what they'd sound like: they'd sound like Jack. Jack is the better 'John.' She's better in every way. I'm not going to forget that. I can love his girls. I might even have some kind of a relationship with him. Every time I talk to him, though -- every time I even look at him -- I'll have this memory, right here, to push away all that ranting and raving. I'll have something real. He won't. He doesn't. He can't. He's never come down to the dirt. He's never lain in the field, by the river or the lake. ...