“Yes!”
I froze. Was this chick for real? She stared me in the eye. “What? You never heard of erotic asphyxiation?”
“Girl, I can’t even spell it.”
“Oh, come on. You never dabbled in breath-control play? Baby, you haven’t lived.”
“Are you serious?”
“Hell, yeah. Joey, honey, you wouldn’t believe it. It makes you cum so hard.”
“It makes you die.”
“No, no. It’s breath-control. It reduces the oxygen flow to your brain to heighten the orgasm. But you release the pressure before going unconscious. You haven’t heard about this before? I thought you were a man of the world.”
“Hey, I’ve been around, but most of my lays are happy with the old bang-bang. None of them ever complained either.”
She pouted. “I’m not most lays.”
I nodded. “Okay, baby. Let’s give this a go.” When you’re running on adrenaline, booze and cocaine, you’ll try anything.
And I swear to God, as soon as I yanked on that scarf like I meant business, she became electric. I could almost feel static crackle between us as she bucked under me. I had to pull out after one short minute, not wanting to end the experience but knowing my limitations.
“Oh, honey, don’t stop now.”
Her voice was hoarse. Had I damaged her throat in such a short time? If so, she didn’t seem to mind. She was hungry for more.
“You have to give me a minute. I’m ready to blow my load here.”
“Put on another rubber. It might slow you down a little.” So I did. And she was right. I went a little longer this time, choking and releasing at steady intervals as I drilled her. But I stopped when her eyes began to stream.
“Don’t stop yet.” This time, she barely managed a whisper.
“We’re going too far,” I said.
Again, that throat cancer whisper. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
And I wanted to go again. That feeling of power had me hooked. I hadn’t felt in control since the start of the tour, ruled by timetables, flight schedules and a fat-fuck manager. If she said she wasn’t done, who was I to argue? But first I went back to my tequila bottle. I was still too close to filling my doubled-up condoms.
After four or five big shots of Mexican rocket fuel, I grabbed a handful of snow and pelted it at my handcuffed, kinky nympho. She smiled, and through puffy and reddened lids, her eyes glinted in the dull light.
I leapt on to her, raising a fine white cloud, and we went at it even harder than before. I’d decided the third time was the charm. No more pulling out. Finish the job, roll up the scarf and unlock the cuffs. We’d pushed our luck far enough.
And as I felt my own orgasm welling, I closed my eyes and continued to tighten and release the scarf every few seconds. The end came too soon. I sighed as I finally let go, then flopped on to my back beside her. I needed a cigarette.
“Holy fuck, baby,” I said. “That blew my mind.”
She didn’t reply. I figured her throat was too sore. I rolled on to my side to look her in the face. Check out her post-coital glow.
“Hey, baby,” I said, a hand sneaking out to squeeze her tit.
She didn’t respond. I nudged her a little. Then I stoked the raw skin on her neck, tentatively checking her pulse. Her head lolled in response to my touch.
“Oh, no.”
It was all I could think to say. She looked back at me with unseeing, blood-flecked eyes.
She wasn’t glowing. She looked... Dead. “Oh, no.” Slowly, calmly, I got off the bed and went for my tequila. “Oh, no.”
I took a slug. “Oh, no.” And another. “Oh...” Another. “No.”
I’m not sure how long I stood there, drinking tequila and staring at a dead groupie handcuffed to my bed, but eventually I snapped out of my daze. Something had to be done, but I was fucked if I knew what. There was nothing for it. I had to tell Larry. I used the phone on the bedside cabinet to call my manager’s room. As it rang, I looked at the Bible lying under a smattering of condoms. I swallowed hard and averted my gaze.
“Come on, Larry. Pick up the fucking phone.”
“Fuck’s this?”
“Larry! Man, I need to see you. Come up to my room, will you?”
“Fuck’s this?”
“It’s Joey D. Come on, man. I’m in room one-eighty-seven.”
“Fuck you want?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. It’s important, okay?”
“Fuck’s sake. Be there in a minute.”
He hung up. I dropped the handset back in its cradle and sat on the edge of the bed. Then I remembered the dead chick. I jumped up and crossed the room, back to the tequila. I raised the bottle to my lips then lowered it without taking a drink. Enough already. I had to stop before I passed out. I lit a cigarette instead, flicking the ash on to the carpet rather than returning to the bedside cabinet for the ashtray. Just as I was trying to figure out what to do with the butt, the doorknob rattled.
Larry’s voice cut through the wood. “Let me in, Joey.”
I moved to the door, pausing at the bathroom to flick my cigarette butt into the sink. Larry bustled past me, bleary-eyed and wearing a white dressing gown. His thick, ginger chest hair looked even thicker against the white towelling. He scratched his fat ass as he squinted at me.
“Jesus, kid. Put something on, will you?”
Fuck! I was still naked. Mumbling an apology, I retrieved my shorts from the foot of the bed and pulled them on. With my modesty covered, I turned to Larry. He blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on the groupie.
“Is she...?” he trailed off.
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“I strangled her.”
“What for?”
“It was a sex thing, Larry.”
Larry blinked at me now. “You sick fuck.”
“It was her idea, man. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
Larry scratched his stubbly head. “Fuck.”
“What are we going to do, Larry?”
“I don’t know. Give me a smoke, will you?” I fetched him the pack and lighter. His hands didn’t shake as he pulled out the cancer stick and lit it up. He slid the rest of the cigarettes into the pocket of his robe. I didn’t complain.
“Fucking rockstars and their messes. I should have gone into hip-hop. At least real gangsters know how to get rid of the bodies.”
It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d encountered a disaster like this. But that wasn’t something I wanted to pry into.
Larry glared at me. “Were you fucking her when she died?”
“No. I mean... maybe. I’m not sure, man.”
“How can you not be sure?”
“I, uh... I had my eyes closed.”
Larry snorted, puffing smoke from his nostrils. “You fucking pussy.”
“How’s this helping, Larry?”
“It just seems like the kind of thing you should know. Psychologically speaking. I mean, years from now, will you be able to put your hand on your heart and say that you’ve never humped a corpse?” He licked his chapped lips. “Though as far as they go, this is one fine-looking cadaver.”
Sour spit flooded my mouth. I fought hard against the urge to puke. “Kid, you look like shit. Go freshen up while I think about this.” He didn’t need to tell me twice. I managed to keep down my tequila supper, but only just. My reflection squinted at me from the mirror over the sink, gaunt and sickly. I picked the cigarette butt out of the sink and filled the cool white porcelain with cold water. Then I took a deep breath and dunked my face in. My lungs burned in my chest before I pulled myself back out. I reached for a neatly folded towel and daubed at my face. Now I looked gaunt, sickly and wet.
I closed my eyes.
The sound of creaking springs from the bedroom froze me to the spot. What the fuck? Hoping to find a revived groupie sitting up on the bed, I forced myself out of paralysis and sprinted from the bathroom.