“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while you could miss it.” Ferris Bueller
Have you ever thought of hosting a party in the middle of the desert and inviting 70,000 people? Well Larry did and John finally went.
The Present- “Smelling the Roses”
It was the morning after the Sunrise Dance. John’s head was pounding with the dull throbbing pain of a heavy hangover. What a spectacular fucking night. It had been years since John had felt a “morning after” head quite as painful as this one. Too many years he grinned.
The dim steel-like morning sun of Nevada’s Black Rock Desert prised open his eyes like a crowbar working recalcitrant rusted lids. Slowly his senses awoke to his surroundings. It was the proverbial “morning after” and the steady sun was doing its regular morning job and waking John from his slumber.
John knew the desert sun was different than any other sun. Religions and spiritual movements had originated in the blasting relentlessness of its mid-day searing heat. Yet in the cool early morning the desert light had a delicate ethereal quality. This silvery morning light had an airy careless quality that was hard to describe.
For mile after endless mile the new born desert sun painted the endless grey sand with a wash of orangish tangerine-gold hues mingled with highlights and bold streaks of pink and red. The sky was a tie-dye confusion of crazed colours. The Cantonese have a specific expression for this chaos of colour, but John didn’t know of any English equivalent. No solar deity could deny the painted perfection of Mother Nature herself as she unrolled a new day.
John looked around dazzled and dazed by the coloured whiteness vaulting overhead. The air in the huge tent was muggy and oppressive and hung heavy. The whole thin white canopy overhead was infused by the lightshow of the morning sun reflecting off the neutral flatness of the grey sand. The colours were soft pale pastels filtered through the thin white nylon membrane of the tent.
Every second the colours changed slightly and John was enthralled further as his brain cleared. The tent shroud had become a morning extravaganza of nature’s own theatre putting on a light show for the human ants beavering away below its mantle of grace. The huge tent was eerily early-morning silent except for the sound of the desert wind rubbing seductively against its thin nylon exterior shell.
As his hangover gently eased its grip John realized that he was laying on a sea of mattresses laid end-to-end covering the desert floor. The mattresses had been topped with a covering of puffy white cotton to mimic a cloud. A giant bed constructed for what purpose? Where was he? John’s brain was still clogged and creaking, full of data that was yet still gibberish.
Thin white nylon partitions rose six-feet high from the mattress floor constructing an internal maze. A spider web of aluminium frames held them up. This labyrinth was like a rabbit warren. Thin corridors were interspersed with small hutch or pen areas about fifteen-feet square. The maze formed dozens and dozens of intimate private partitions. John was secluded in one of these small white rectangles of privacy. A thin flap of white nylon hanging from an aluminium tube frame formed the “door”.
Looking closer to home John realized he was only wearing his open cowboy shirt. A slender female hand was lightly holding onto his half-erect morning cock. John’s mouth was parched and dry from all the alcohol consumed over the past hours. His lips were cracking. Thirsty he saw a water bottle lying next to the young girl. John grabbed it and held it as he looked about to gather his thoughts. What had happened last night? It was a blur but it was coming back.
John’s eye followed the slender hand lightly holding his cock. He saw it was connected to a young woman. She was a cute hippie looking girl with a beaded headband. Looking closer John realized she was wearing nothing but an ivory coloured see-thru peasant blouse embroidered with tiny gold bumblebees. Her slim tanned athletic legs were slightly spread. The girl’s pussy was simply gorgeous. John was transfixed by her almost naked perfection.
The sexy young girl’s triangle was waxed save for a thin band of silky brown hair framing her darker puffy pussy lips. The band of soft dark hair served to draw John’s keen male eye. The rest of her pubic hair had been removed. John’s muddled brain looked at the girl’s angelic face in wonder. How could he be with a girl this beautiful? Only a few days ago his life was completely fucked-up? John tried to recall last night. How did he end up here?
John looked more closely at his sleeping beauty. Her face had a coy coquettish quality suggesting there was so much more to learn about this young woman. The extremely hung over former high-flying executive worked his exhausted cerebral synapses. She was so beautiful and serene in her slumber. Who was she? How did he end up here?
The wheels in his head were spinning madly. John’s brain cells suddenly connected like a Goggle search completed. This was the “White Rabbit Girl”. This was the elusive goddess apparition of the festival. This was the physical embodiment of serendipity. John smiled. If he were to worship a “god” he could do no worse than serendipity and here she was lying near naked next to him.
What had she said her name was? Breeze? Skylar? Solar Kitten? Echo? It was some hippie name he remembered. It was the personae she had adopted for the festival, just as John had become “Blaze”. Fire, Blaze, Burning Man: it made sense right? John grinned a goofy grin thinking of his stupid festival adopted name. He had needed to change himself so a new name was appropriate. Perhaps this Burning Man festival was to be part of his metamorphosis?
John’s blood-shot eyes looked around the tent more awake now. It was huge. The whole Burning Man experience was much bigger than John had ever expected. Seventy thousand fucking wild artists, mad unhinged people, drug addicts and on-the-edge crazies all camped out in the middle of nowhere and expected to be completely self-reliant. No money allowed and only “gifts” and your own resources to survive on. Drugs, alcohol, art, writers, poetry readings, the globe’s top DJ’s and the unending desert and desert sun.
What John hadn’t expected were all the hot young women and all the sex? That had taken him by surprise. The cool art and interesting people? That he had expected. How had he ended up in this tent with the White Rabbit Girl holding his half-erect cock? John shook his head and took a gulp of water from the water bottle he was holding. As the “water” seared its way down his throat John gasped in shock.
Stunned he held the bottle at arms length and sucked for air. What the fuck? John inspected the plastic water bottle sceptically. He sniffed curiously at the opening of the bottle’s neck. Fuck! Tequila. John chuckled. The young girl had now stirred and opened her eyes. Her large innocent eyes were pools of soft henna-copper coloured perfection. Her long lashes were seductive and beguiling even at this early hour and with a pounding head.
This young woman was certainly no more than twenty-five John surmised. She was also more than typically “sexy”. She was exotic looking; long dark hair, warm golden-flecked eyes and tawny sun kissed flawless honey toned skin. She looked half-Asian he guessed. The faux white rabbit coat that lay rumpled beside her taut ass next to the jean mini skirt nudged his gridlocked memory. The night before began to come back to him.
The young woman giggled and her face widened in a teasingly demure half-grin half-smile. She began softly stroking John’s cock. Involuntarily John was quickly hard. His little head paid small heed to the other larger throbbing head poised on top of his shoulders. John’s eight inches was now protruding out like a steel rod. Was it the effect of her beauty? She pushed him down onto the cotton puff mattress and straddled his now throbbing hard erection.
The cheap mattress was very soft and gave under her knees and the weight of her slim toned athletic body. John deduced there were other naked bodies strewn everywhere among the white labyrinth in similar small semi-private compartments. John could discern them as dark shadows behind the maze partitions of white nylon.
The huge tent had obviously been the site of an orgy of sorts. It was an orgy conducted by temporary squatters huddling in the privacy of their own little white nylon caboose of sexual freedom. John still had some hangover cottonmouth and couldn’t form any sounds from his parched throat. The mysterious White Rabbit Girl looked him straight in the eyes as she impaled her tight wet warmth on his jutting hardness.
“I like you Blaze. I like you a lot. You’re interesting.”
Her almost-whisper voice was youthful, young, demure and yet kittenish and immodest at the same time. John gazed in some new version of disbelief at the perfection of her female form. Picasso would surely struggle trying to replicate the perfection of the curves and swelling slopes of this young woman’s body.
John’s young beauty was wild and yet innocent. The moment, this moment they were sharing, was twisted and yet somehow precious. He hardly knew this girl and yet he felt like he had known her forever. The tightness of her pussy soon obliterated the contradictions piling up in his psyche.
“Do you remember my name?”
Her eyes were teasing him. It was more a flirtatious challenge than it was a genuine question. The White Rabbit Girl began to move her hips in slow almost bashful gyrations. Her playful eyes coursed over his face and chest. She was like a genuine princess gracing him with glances that were chary and stingy, her eyes not lingering too long lest she appear too forward.
John’s new damsel bit down firmly on her bottom lip as her body shuddered with tiny tremors from being filled to capacity. Her face was a picture of Anne Boleyn ripeness, her lips demanding to be kissed. John’s length and girth stretched her to the limit. She groaned, her eyes rolling back into her head. John gazed stupefied by his good fortune.
John’s new obsession was actually riding his cock. His apparition, his Lily de Seitas flirtation, was petite and pretty. Her breasts were small and immaculate. Her nipples light brown with pinkish hues. John was gazing at her peerless breasts in open wonder. He could see them clearly through the thin ivory cotton gauze of her peasant top. The little embroidered gold bumblebees looked delicate. His mind was so muddled: how to form words? What should he say?
John couldn’t help but wonder at last night’s events. Was this some kind of god-game? Was he being toyed with? Were these eccentric masques adopted at Burning Man even real? Was this girl who had flitted in and out of his consciousness over the past days real?
For John reality and artifice had become twisted and confused. John examined the torn rag he took for his sanity to see if there were any clues he could discern. Much of Burning Man was just pretentious bullshit? What about this moment he wondered? Was this girl an absurd joke sent by serendipity to tease him with a lush exotic lure? Was he being tempted with an offering of something he could never actually possess?
“God your cock feels so good.”
Her husky yet silky satin-like soft voice brought John back to the private white compartment. John’s mind snapped back to the tightness of her vagina. Apparently this beauty was no apparition and this was no god-game. She spoke in a heavy breathing type voice, half-whisper and half dark desire.
The young woman’s voice degenerated into a half-growl when she spoke the word “cock”. The exotic girl’s hips were moving faster now. Her pussy was very wet, squishy and yielding. They were joined, mingled, their bodies becoming malleable in a rising furnace of hot lust.
“You should remember my name. You’ve been watching me for days. I’ve seen you looking. I told you my name last night.”
John grunted and groaned as her hips began to thrust in a faster rhythm. She had a subtle smirk on her face. His eyes rolled back and he struggled to respond with some actual vowels and consonants. It had been ages since John had sex like this. His mind was trying to catch up with events.
A young woman straddling his hips, her creamy tight pussy squeezing his shaft: it had been so long since John had done something akin to such intimacy it was almost new to him. This young sex goddess’s pussy felt so tight and snug he marvelled at the sensations. John suddenly felt so safe and connected pinned below her weight and beauty. He wanted to stay where he was forever.
The girl was now whimpering and squealing and close to losing control. She was making all sorts of animal-like sex sounds. John felt her velvety contracting walls teaching his cock a new language as it pulsed and squeezed on his thick rod. Their bodies bounced slightly on the spongy fluffy mushy mattress as her hips drove down with an increasingly randy fervour. The young woman had become possessed by her own private angel-demons of wanton libido.
John’s brain worked its way through a series of names. He searched a mental catalogue bare of many entries. He groaned softly as his cock began to feel amazing. He tried to ignore the building sensations by considering possible names. Skylar? Free? Rain? Saffron? All the names he’d encountered in the past eight days got considered and discarded. Finally John’s brain arrived at “Jasmine” followed by “Peace” and “Patchouli”. His brain cells found the “P” section interesting. Some rogue brain cells decide to follow the clue. The fog lifted.
John’s voice was rough and ragged from dehydration. All the joints he’d smoked doubtless had also had an effect on his now raw throat. John’s raspy half-whisper was ignored by the girl presently intensely focused on the tingles coming from her own pussy. Her impending orgasm seemed to be her sole immediate concern. John spoke again, but louder this time.
The young beauty opened her eyes and smiled an angelic smile. Leaning forward her long brown hair teased the skin on his chest. Her lips were getting closer and closer to his. Without discussion or complications they started kissing. Her lips were fucking soft!
It was not a kind of kiss John could even recognize. It was something new. Was this part of struggling free of his former chrysalis? John decided to surrender and savour the moment. The kiss carried on for a seeming eternity, as if in slow motion, before finally ending.
John’s cock was gushing with wave after wave of high-pressure injections of blood. One throbbing pulse following another as it engorged to an even more rigid state. His rod squeezed its thick hardness tightly inside her snug young pussy as he rammed his hips up to meet her downward thrusting hips.
“Yes Blaze. It’s Princess.”
She giggled softly.
“And my real name?”
The gorgeous exotic brunette enquired further with a muttered half-delirious whisper before returning to the task of journeying towards her own sexual bliss. Her hips and plush pussy swept John along with her on her urgent journey. She was like a tsunami of pleasure riding his cock like a surfer riding a wave.
John could not have hindered this graceful girl’s progress had he wished. Her whimpers, her groans, her clipped cries and almost-screams embarrassed John for a short moment. The stoners and fellow orgy participants next door must hear them fucking now. However all of John’s blood was fully engaged engorging his big cock. Seemingly no blood cells were left over to blush his cheeks.
John gave himself up to the amazing moment. His soul consented to join this Princess girl in some new place that she seemed to know the GPS coordinates for. He searched his brain again like a card catalogue in some library recently visited. What was her “real” name? He used the same alphabet trick to rummage through his collection of brain-cell information. It clicked immediately with the “A’s”.
John whimpered in a breathless voice. He let his hands reach up to her firm pert breasts. The winsome young woman ignored his discovery of her name. She wanted her orgasm. John gripped each of her perfect nipples between a thumb and forefinger. The sensations he was creating with his experienced fingers caused her eyes to roll back in delirium.
Aya arched her back like a ballerina and groaned as John tweaked her nipples more firmly. She ground down on his hard cock and whimpered a series of delicate complex whimpers. Then she smiled a charming smile as she exhaled a deep sigh seeming to have regained control of her renegade pussy. She slowed her rocking hips.
John rolled Aya’s rubbery nipples more softly watching in wonder as her athletic young body writhed and twisted above him responding to his talented touch. The blooming young beauty ground her hips down and gyrated on his hard cock with new enthusiasm. John could only watch like a bystander as her exquisite body grew in fever.
John gazed admiring how pretty and polished she was. He had never encountered such balanced symmetry. Aya was sucking for air now. Her chest was rising and falling as she sought to replenish the oxygen she was burning in her fire of passion. Their joint body heat had bedewed her skin with a thin glaze of perspiration. Aya’s flawless skin glistened a darker shade of honey.
John rolled Aya’s now hardened rubber-like nipples more firmly, twisting the pleasure points with precise force while watching her face to observe her features contort in rapture. They were both close to release now. John groaned and felt his cock burning and his balls tightening as Aya drove her hips piston-like up and down the length of his hard rod. He knew that Princess, or Aya, or whatever her name might be was close to carnal combustion. He only needed a tiny spark to light her fire.
John was convinced the two of them were completely alone. Aya was about to exalt his spirit up to some new divine ecstasy. Her pussy was that tight and that sweet. John had no doubt young glamorous Aya was leading him into a fresh mystical experience where they would fuse into some unique reborn spirit. In the white heat of lust two souls would blend and bond into a single whisper of white purity. Every second seemed to pound down like an hour the moment was so intense.
Okay John was getting carried away with his visions. John’s mind had become riddled with bizarre mumbo-jumbo Beverly Hills Buddhist know-nothing rants evoked from some pompadour headed popinjay figure that was dancing wildly in his imagination. “John this is your dream girl” this bizarre figure kept exclaiming into the emptiness of John’s head. John had become more than a little confused by events. He was dreaming that he had fallen in love.
Aya’s snug pussy was squeezing John’s cock tightly. The stimulation from her squeezes had turned John’s thoughts into bilge water balderdash. He was quite happy to be lost in this fusillade of sexual sensations and yet he could make little sense of what was happening. He was about to let loose with something stupid like “I love you” when John heard a sound and was distracted.
The white flap of nylon pulled aside. A second girl crawled into John’s tiny cubicle of paradise. She was wearing a tiara of fake diamonds on her head. Aya leaned forward and the two young women kissed lightly like girlfriends do. John seemed to remember this girl from somewhere. There was an unspoken communication between the two women that no man could ever decipher or understand. Soft almost-not-there giggles of acknowledgement were exchanged. John was too far gone in his lust-world to even protest or make enquires.
“Blaze meet Princess number two. This is Rena. Do you remember her from the Sunrise Dance?”
John did remember now. His brain was functioning more competently now. This was the short casual Filipino girl who was part of Aya’s camp group. They had all danced together at the Sunrise Dance last night. He had seen her cycling with Aya before around the camp. This girl was shorter than Aya and not as exotic looking. But Princess Two was cute and pretty in a “girl next door” kind of fashion.
Rena looked at her friend Aya. Next she cast her young lust-filled gaze at John spread across the soft white cotton puffballs. He was pinned down and straddled and quite clearly being fucked silly by a wanton young woman who just happened to be her best friend. The two twenty-something women smiled mutual mischievous smiles as they performed a telepathic exchange. John had long ago realized women could exchange information far more efficiently than the Internet. Gmail and Hotmail had nothing on girlfriends.
There was obviously some kind of question in Rena’s almost coal black eyes. Somehow Rena had discarded her pink frock from the dance and was only wearing a white tank top. Her dark nipples poked through the thin cotton top. John’s rather preoccupied mind had no hope of figuring out what these two fetching Mademoiselles were up to. He was just trying to stop his cock from releasing prematurely inside Aya’s tight pocket.
Well John didn’t need to wait long to find out what the two girls were thinking. Rena reached out and took Aya’s slender hand. She edged closer to John’s prone body by shuffling across the mattress on her knees. Rena’s eyes were now glazed with her own frisky desire. Aya looked down into John’s eyes for his consent. In a ritual offering to serendipity he simply thought to him self “what the fuck” and nodded an almost imperceptive nod in agreement.
If someone had written this moment into a story, even a “Fifty Shades” kind of story, John would have taken it as a comical outtake. And yet here it was actually happening to him in a tent in the middle of the desert. What kind of prank was being played on him? He wondered if a cameraman would burst out and reveal that he was actually participating in some kind of on-line video blog scam.
John’s salacious animal nature betrayed him. In the end we are all animals hungering to reproduce. This is the most basic atavistic drive. John helplessly consented to fulfil whatever ravenous needs the devilish damsels needed itched. He would sate their aphrodisiac driven fever with whatever his hard male body could offer in trade. John’s firm muscular male body was clearly their sex toy of choice for this morning. Rena lifted her smooth slim brown leg and straddled John’s grinning face.
Cute young Rena’s pussy had light silky strands of delicate black hair framing a tiny triangle. Her outer pussy lips were dark and already glistening with slick viscous juices. The young Filipino’s flawless skin was a darker tone than that of Aya’s. Rena had an almost chocolate tone. In contrast Aya’s unmarred skin was much more lightly toned, almost white.
The eyes of both women were filled with a sexy mirth as Rena ever so slowly lowered her pussy onto John’s waiting tongue and mouth. His lips and her labia had almost touched when John’s nose got its first whiff of Rena’s heady musky peachy-sweet scent. John’s mind swooned and his cock swelled inside the tight grip of Aya’s velvet glove.
John’s delirious brain was overwhelmed by new sensations. The coiled unhappiness that had inhabited his chest for so long was gone. John’s dry parched mouth was now filled with heavenly juices as he lapped at Rena’s tangy sweetness. Aya began to grind her hips in a slow methodical gyre as she sought her own oblivion.
Now the typical high-pitched sex sounds of two women teased John’s ears simultaneously. Whimpers, moans, groans, yelps, and mews, were interspersed with sprinkles of the more commonplace “ughs”, “oh’s”, “Oh yeah”, “oh my god” and “oh fuck it feels so good”. Murmurs, whines and squeals clashed with grunts and girl-groans followed by “god your cock feels amazing” or “fuck your tongue is making me so horny”.
These were the girly cries and exhortations as the two sexy young women drove themselves with increasing intensity towards the gate to female sexual utopia. “Open that fucking door to utopia” their bodies seemed to be demanding of John. Open the fucking gate and let us in. Cloud nine here we come!
Unexceptional growls, grunts, groans and grinding pelvises picked up John’s desires and flung him forward towards his own divine abode. He could see Shangri-La not too far ahead. His cock was harder than he could ever recall and it was burning with an incandescent white heat. His balls had pulled up and tightened into a compact sack ready to explode.
John’s amazed brain needed to perform pirouettes and contortions of reality to accept what was happening. It all seemed surreal. Not even Dali could have painted this scene. At that moment he felt Aya’s body go rigid and her nails dug deeply into his chest as a high-pitched squeal ripped its way out of her ribcage. Rena began to cry out at the same time and her pussy leaked sweet juices into John’s waiting open mouth. John held onto Rena’s hips to steady her gyrations as he stroked madly across her clitoris with his flicking tongue.
With the two girls simultaneously breaking into wild orgasms on top of him John was engulfed by sensations, tingles and vibrations. John’s balls tightened and he felt his load shoot in a massive spasm out into Aya’s eager purring pussy. The girl’s bodies twisted and writhed above him contorting in every direction, as the spark seemed to have lit a detonation for both of them.
The disoriented former executive felt each girl buck and bounce and drive down on him seeking final friction to sate her own private needs. Aya leaned forward and the two girls kissed above him, their tongues driving with hungry desire into each other’s mouths, lips latching and sucking noisily. The unfolding scene stunned John’s perceptions.
Rena’s gushing vagina pushed down tightly onto John’s lapping mouth and muffled his rough groan. He came in a huge shuddering orgasm. His own body shook violently below the two females riding his appendages. Rena pushed down so hard with her hips she covered John’s nose with her wet labia. He thought for a second she might asphyxiate him with her sweet young pussy if her orgasm went on for too long. John contemplated wryly that at least it was a poetic way to exit the world if one had to go.
The two young demanding female bodies were finally sexually sated by their amazing ride. Both women’s arms and legs fell slack and they slumped into a mingled heap of sweaty limbs on top of him. The girls then tumbled to the side onto the mattress in a jumble of giggles and bare limbs. John’s cock drained of desire was already half limp and the sex juices began to dry.
John sucked for air his chest rising and falling heavily. He wiped his nose to dry it of Rena’s slick wet juices. Somehow John was still holding Aya’s slender hand and her eyes were connected to his. He felt wonderful, relaxed and for some reason even though Rena was there, it was only the two of them.
Ten Days Earlier: Just say “What the fuck.”
“Joel, you wanna know something? Every now and then say, "What the fuck." "What the fuck" gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future.”
We’re all insecure; some just hide it better than others. John knew that and yet facing his own demons was still hard. John was full of insecurity and doubts. So much had gone wrong. He needed a new start. He needed to fill his life with something other than work. Money and work had left him empty and looking into the vacuum of the obsidian void. John felt sad and bored and depressed and disillusioned all at the same time.
John was reflecting on his parents. His own mortality was troubling him. He was remembering their death. Too soon and yet wasn’t every death too soon? Perhaps not he thought? John remembered how they had died of cancer. How his mother had fought to the bitter end. That had been hard. The way she had fought had made it hard on John. Perhaps her death was not too soon? He wondered sometimes.
It was extremely difficult to watch a parent you loved die. There was nothing you could do. You were a helpless child. Whatever you had learned in life, whatever you had achieved, whatever titles you had or certificates, at that moment you became again just a helpless child. There was no achievement or possession that could make it one iota easier.
John remembered how his mother had folded the wrapping paper from his birthday present. She had folded it neatly into a square on the log cabin pattern quilt on her bed. “I can use this paper again next year” she had said from her marriage bed. John’s shrivelled mother, her body a mere husk, had died three days later. She had refused to give up or say goodbye. The liver cancer didn’t give a shit about her resolve or courage. John’s father would die two years later in the same red-stained maple wood bed. He also died from cancer, but bone cancer this time.
John’s mother had come from poverty. A family where “stretching a dollar” was a necessity, not affectation. Perhaps that’s why she had a fascination her whole life with things luxurious. She had never had them as a little girl. John imagined how she must have dreamed of them. She had told stories of how she and her sisters would look through the magazines and dream of another life, a more glamorous life. John wished he had given her more. These regrets haunted him.
John’s dad had been in intense pain in the end. The patches worked, but dulled his reality. When his father was finally gone it had been, in one way, a relief. His father was a stoic man. The period in the end had been a blessing. The last four weeks together had been so special. They had hugged. They had talked. John had held his father as he walked unsteadily on now weak spindly legs. John had finally felt his father’s physical touch and love. It was something John had long been denied. Better late than never they say?
When John had started working for the Swiss company selling watches in Hong Kong the group had one branded store in Asia. Now eleven years later the company had two hundred and fifty stores in Hong Kong alone. More licensees than John could count. The company also had six hundred stores in China and over one hundred and fifty stores in Macau. They had all been opened under John’s leadership. It had been like running non-stop on a treadmill for eleven years.
John had doubled the warehousing and logistics and then quadrupled it. He was living his life on a plane and in hotels. Could you even describe it as life he wondered? He was selling more watches than the company could have ever imagined. The newly rich Asians sucked up luxury watches like a Dyson vacuum.
At Chinese New Year John had to bribe the factory workers to stay with a bag full of money. Literally a bag full of money; trying to explain to head office in Zurich the importance of Chinese New Year to the poorly paid workers in China had been futile. They were ten million crystals short. Keep the factory going was the order from Zurich head office. John had complied as he always did.
Now as a man he was completely burned out. He was a hollowed out husk too. He had lost his girlfriend. The most beautiful woman he had ever known. She had lasted on John’s treadmill for a year and a half. He thought of her lush brunette curls and soft hazel eyes. Now she was married to someone else. He had seen on FB that she had a beautiful daughter. She was lucky he supposed. His own life was a train wreck.
What did John have? He had material things: six motorbikes including his coveted 821 Monster “Dark” Ducati in Taipei, an Aston Martin, Hermes leather jackets, expensive this, expensive that. Yeah he “had it all” according to some people’s measures. But inside he was a void, a nothing; he felt like a complete empty shell. What did it all mean?
John had tried to distract himself of course. Skydiving, scuba diving, exotic getaways, random sex with hot young women, trips to Cuba to sample the world’s finest cigars, trips to Bordeaux and Tuscany to sample the world’s finest wine. His travel pictures astounded his friends. They were all jealous of his life. And yet John couldn’t fathom why? He was so deeply unhappy.
Somehow John realized the watches and the money were killing him. In an ironic sort of way the hand of time was ticking and he realized that while he sold millions and millions of expensive watches his own life was eking away minute by monotonous minute. All this faux glittery gold affectation had taken its toll. Nothing seemed real anymore.
In the way that serendipity has it was a movie that saved him? Perhaps that’s too dramatic a way of putting it. That made him decide to change. He’d watched “Magnolia” and found Tom Cruise’s performance stunning. A lost soul searing the screen: a man cleaved irrevocably from his father. The character portrayal was poignant. Searching back to the beginning John decided to re-watch “Risky Business”. From that night, slowly nursing an elegant glass of 1970 Montrose sip by sip as he watched the movie, John’s life had changed.
“What the fuck!” Exactly. What the fuck! John had woken up. He had new resolve. His friends had been bugging him for three years to attend Burning Man. The biggest, wildest, craziest party in the world; John never had the time. He lived on a fucking plane. His team had twenty-eight days from the day he signed the lease until they opened the new shop. Any longer and they got shit.
John took a day off work. Then he took a second. He picked up a book. “A Heart Breaking Work of Staggering Genius”; John had been meaning to read it for ages. Now he dug in. It gripped at his heart. The parent’s death in the beginning kicked his gut. He devoured the pages. FUCK! That was it. He called his boss. He called his skydiving buddies in Vegas. “Buy me a ticket,” he had said.
It had taken two months to negotiate his severance package. The company were more than generous. Zurich appreciated his eleven years of toil. They had extracted more than sweat. They had extracted blood. John put his bikes up for sale. All were gone now except one.
John sold his car next. Why the fuck did he need an Aston Martin? He sold five watches. His iPhone chip kept better time he rationalized. John simplified his life. He gave most of his expensive suits and ties to charity. He cleaned house. It was long overdue. His chest started to relax. He felt his mind clearing.
Twenty-four hours after signing the last document to end his employment John was on a plane to Seattle. From there he had a flight to Vegas. His camp buddies had arranged limo transit with “fast pass” entry to Burning Man. He was heading into the middle of the Black Rock Desert. He was heading for a new John.
John would have a new name and a costume to assume a new identity for the festival. John had always been a bit of a loner and a risk taker. His friends had selected a sort of “urban cowboy” costume for him. Cowboy hat, boots, belt and buckle, Texas shirt and tie, it had all been ordered in his size. They had also tricked up a car to look like a White Rhino, arranged bicycles and ordered the tent and supplies. It was all organized in advance. All John had to do was show up and pay his share.
What was John hoping for from this journey to Burning Man? He didn’t quite know. Could this be a “heart of darkness” moment? John had no idea. He just wanted to feel “something” at a deeper level. He wanted to connect with humans in some way other than via a commercial transaction concerning some over-priced trinket of gold and crocodile skin.
John didn’t want to demean himself anymore. Bribing underpaid Chinese workers to not go home and see their parents and children had distorted his soul. Watching people pay gross amounts for glittery baubles had eroded his sense of reality. John sometimes even wondered if the idealistic man he had been at nineteen even existed anymore. Where had that “John” gone he wondered in his darker moments. He remembered his Che Guevara t-shirts and promised him self to buy a new one.
Riding in the limo across the never-ending expanse of sand John listened to Roxy Music. He looked at the list of tunes on his phone. He switched to a Humble Pie song. That had been one of his older brother’s favourite bands. John resolved to go visit his brother. It had been too long. Humble Pie had served to introduce John to Peter Frampton and his lyrical sort of jazzy guitar riffs. John had loved Peter Frampton’s music. All of that seemed so long ago.
Little by little things from his past were coming back. Sad and happy memories mingled and cuddled next to each other in his reminiscing. Maybe what he hoped for was to see some light at the end of the tunnel? Yes that would be something. A ray of hope, a glimmer of optimism for the future: that would be sufficient John decided.
Bryan Ferry’s sultry voice had been replaced by Steve Marriott’s bluesy R & B vocals layered on top of rock riffs catching onto a rock-on driving tempo. Everyone probably knew the Yardbird’s version of Graham Gouldman’s “For Your Love”, but few knew that Humble Pie did an even better acoustic version.
The old music eased John’s tension as he closed his eyes and relaxed. The long black stretch limo rocked him gently across the desert highway lulling him to relax. John was on his way to the biggest wildest party the world throws only once a year. John let the music wash over him. He drifted off to sleep.
Arriving at the campsite at Burning Man astounded John. It was fucking huge. The Burning Man camp was massive. It was like a small instant “pop-up” city. His friend Dave greeted him and handed him a joint. Now here was another throwback to his teenage years. John grinned. He and Dave had smoked a few joints in their days.
“Fuck John. You’re here. You’re unemployed. Take a deep fucking toke my man.”
John sucked hard on the joint. He inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes. He smiled. Opening his eyes John looked around. He and Dave hugged. Fuck this was just insane. He had quit his job?
“So where’s my spot?”
Dave took him around and did the orientation. He introduced John to the other members of their camp. Mostly men his age who were also skydivers, but also three women who were dating camp members. Soon John and his old friend had grabbed bicycles and were touring the larger campsite.
All the strange sights dazzled John as he and Dave cycled around. A VW camper van with huge wide metal cow horns affixed to the front passed by them to their right. Next a set of traveling “bleachers” passed by including a real crowd doing a mini “wave” cheer as it travelled around the camp. John couldn’t help grinning at all the comical, curious and just plain eccentric shit he was seeing.
John marvelled at the many art installations and weird costumes. Every person who attended Burning Man had taken on a new persona for the festival. There was an amazingly sexy woman dressed as an Egyptian princess carrying a French lace parasol. Another sexy young girl was dressed as a Tahitian native her body covered in intricate tattoos. One of the sexiest girls had a native Indian white feather headdress matched with tiny white boy shorts and Indian leather moccasin boots.
They cycled past a huge art installation of thirty or forty giant lotus flowers rising twelve-feet to fourteen-feet high from the desert sand. What was the meaning of water flowers ironically seemingly thriving in the middle of the desert? A car drove by with a massive front end. The front was designed like a jaw of elephant tusk-like teeth set row on row to replicate a furious fish. Another car slid by decked out like a pirate ship complete with three full masts and sails.
Some of the Burner girls were completely naked. Some Burner couples were naked. This was extreme self-expression of every sort. Shed your clothes, shed your inhibitions and don’t fear rejection; attempt new forms, new identities, new art; find your self in the best way you know how. As John was cycling past a traveling giant bed he saw the White Rabbit Girl for the first time. She was cycling with two girlfriends in the opposite direction.
The young girl cycling by looked to be in her early twenties. She had dark brown hair flowing in the wind. She was wearing a faux white rabbit shorty jacket, a jean mini skirt and faux white rabbit boots. When John thought of her in his mind he could only name her the “White Rabbit Girl”? He had no other name for her. Her face looked so happy and carefree as she glided past on the desert plain. She seemed lost in some sort of playful happiness with her girlfriends. John wished he were able to join her in her seemingly transportable bubble of “happy”.
Why was his eye attracted to this particular girl? John had no idea. Was it because she was dressed in white? For whatever reason as the White Rabbit Girl passed by laughing wildly at something John could not hear her image became imprinted on his brain. John couldn’t resist craning his neck to look back and watch as she disappeared into the distance. Soon the White Rabbit Girl was swallowed up and lost in the chaotic flotsam of the Burning Man camp.
Dave was pointing towards the distance and John had soon forgot about the White Rabbit Girl. And yet she still floated imprinted in his subconscious somewhere. Dave had stopped his bike up ahead. There was a gorgeous blond woman dressed as Alice in Wonderland handing out joints. She had big firm tits. They stopped and chatted. She was Elka from Iceland. John had never met anyone from Iceland. They shared a spliff with Elka and Dave and the girl hit it off.
Soon enough John was alone. Dave had disappeared with Elka. He watched the breadth of the distant horizon. It felt good to be alone, all alone, in a new place with a new name with no job and no responsibilities. People randomly said “hi” as they walked or cycled by. John smiled and nodded to them.
John eventually realized Dave and the girl must have been fucking by now. Dave wouldn’t reappear for a while so he decided to make his way back to his camp alone. The joint had given John a bit of a buzz. He meandered on his cycle pedalling slowly and enjoying the fantastic and freakish, the bizarre and beautiful, in every detail surrounding him.
As John cycled back towards his tent he found himself on the very edge of the huge camp. John stopped and got off his bike. He looked out into the endless remoteness of the sand and sky that swept on seemingly forever. John spread out his arms stretching them as wide as he could.
Laughing he began to twirl in a circle the way he had done as a child spinning for no purpose. He spun faster and faster. John closed his eyes tightly. People passing laughed at his silliness. Eventually he became dizzy and fell down in the sand. No suit, no tie, no direction home, John just felt free for once. He started to laugh wildly for no reason and then the tears came.
All of life’s slipups, screw-ups, stumbles, fumbles, gaffes, goof-ups, botched attempts, blunders, boo-boos, flubs and faults seemed to crash down on his disoriented dizzy head. Where was he going? What was he doing? Why had he given up the woman he loved?
At that critical moment when John wanted to cry a river of self-pity the White Rabbit Girl serendipitously appeared again. She was merrily cycling back in the opposite direction she had come from. She was animated and chatting and laughing with her group of girlfriends. She was the opposite of John.
John let every sorrow loose. The burden seemed to lift from his tight chest. The boredom, disillusionment and depression eased its grip. John just let whatever it was go, it lifted away from him like he was letting go of a helium balloon. His cares drifted up and away into the heavens above.
Who was she? Why had she appeared twice in the same day? Why did he care? John forgot whatever had put him in his morose mood. He looked around. He was alive. He was healthy. “What the fuck” he decided. Why the fuck was he crying? Opportunity was waiting for him to knock. He was at fucking Burning Man.
The next couple of days were amazing. John met so many interesting people. Artists, writers, crazy people and he made new friends with ease. Each day John spied the same exotic female decked out in her faux white rabbit jacket and boots. Each time he hand no excuse to meet her and yet he couldn’t help staring. John kept thinking of the novel “The Magus”. This girl for some reason reminded him of the young Lily de Seitas.
On the fourth day John was with Dave and Steve on the north side of the camp. They were on their way to see a work of art using multi-coloured kites by some Japanese artist. On the edge of the camp they passed a huge white tent. The size of the tent was amazing and caused John to become curious.
“Hey guys what the fuck is that huge white thing?”
Dave had been to Burning Man several times and was quite tuned into the goings on in the camp. He explained to John and Steve that the huge white tent was “Cloud Bliss”. It was a camp run exclusively by young women. They gave other women a wristband with a unique colour and design. This year it was dark orange. The wristband entitled the girl to enter Cloud Bliss and occupy a private “hutch” inside the cloud. Using the wristband she could bring a guy in with her.
“Yeah so it’s like a big fucking orgy tent. I had one girl from Zimbabwe invite me in last year. She fucked my brains out. My first black chick.”
Dave grinned a goofy male grin, as men are wont to do admitting such achievements. The three guys chuckled in male camaraderie and carried on cycling. The Cloud Bliss tent had registered in John’s brain, but he had little expectation that he would ever get to see the insides. A few girls had seemed attracted to him, but John was still figuring himself out. His “new self” that is. He wasn’t ready for that kind of intimate connection yet.
Dave and Steve kept pushing John to have sex when the chance arose, but he resisted. Yes the girls were hot, but he was still preoccupied with things he needed to let go of. Each day somehow he would always spy the White Rabbit Girl somewhere. It was strange and uncanny how serendipity seemed to put her in his path? Of all the girls in the camp she was the one girl John couldn’t stop fixating on.
Yes there were many girls at the festival with better bodies, bigger tits, more curved asses, taller, sexier in a conventional sense. Yet John was obsessed with his exotic White Rabbit Girl. She had a unique look, exotic and yet simple. John even started to dream about her. He felt like a teenage idiot, but still he couldn’t help it.
Finally the festival was coming to its end. John had been having an amazing time. The final big event before the “burning” would be the “Sunrise Dance”. The next night after the dance they would burn the wooden effigy sculpture and the festival would be over.
Everyone looked forward to the Sunrise Dance as a huge crazed endless rave. It was the biggest festival event other than the burning of the sculpture at the end. People would dance from sunset to sunrise in a frenzy of emotions and release.
John was excited to attend the Sunrise Dance since one of the most famous Canadian DJ’s would be performing. His friend Dave had met a girl from Louisiana that he was fucking every day now. It seemed she would be coming to the dance with Dave as his date.
Steve had also met a slim Latino girl from Texas with big firm tits. Her costume was to dress as Cleopatra. John had to admit she was a damned sexy looking Cleopatra. Steve had fucked her at the fireworks show the night before. It seemed she also would be coming along with their group. This left John as a spare third wheel.
The excitement built for the Sunrise Dance as the sun lowered in the sky. You could feel the buzz in the camp rising. In their little group they all got ready. They sat around in a circle and smoked a joint passing it from one person to the other. A second joint appeared and then a third. A bottle of whisky popped out of nowhere and shots were done. John relaxed. Life was good. He was alone, but that was okay. His future was a blank white page. He felt free.
The group all made their way over to the dance site. Coloured glow-stick light bands were being handed out willy-nilly. People were festooned in glowing colours with glow-stick bands wrapped around their necks, on their wrists, on their ankles and anywhere a glow-stick light band could seemingly be affixed. Girls stuck them in their hair. Booze was being handed out freely and laughter was rising into the black night.
Joints were being passed around. People everywhere were laughing and dancing. Whirly gigs were being shot into the sky using elastic bands. They would fly up to light up with LED bravado. Hundreds of red, yellow and green lights zapped up a hundred feet and slowly descended in a cascade of sky-dripping colours as crazed revellers began getting into the mood. Crazies could be heard howling at the moon like a wolf or occasionally hooting like a Loon.
Soon John’s group were all separated. John had no idea where he was or who he was dancing with. He danced and danced and the women he danced with seemed to change freely. Some pressed their bodies into him and others danced wildly at a distance. John drew on one joint after another. His throat got raspy and sore from the acidic smoke. After the sunset it was all black on the horizon with only the glowing artificial light at the dance to illuminate the sky.
The music was insane as the DJ drove the crowd to new heights of insanity. This music wasn’t about escapism it was about life. Thrusting rave breakouts were interspersed with spindly brittle psychedelic sections and then it would segue into tender positive patches. Nothing came across as either forced or dilettantish; this was genuine and thoughtful stuff. This guy was talented.
John was swept up along with thousands of others in the crowd by the vulnerable vocals and the building persuasive dance beats that seemed to hit the crowd’s sweet spot. More than anything the DJ seemed to convey a sense of humility and inclusiveness to his audience. They were all part of something, whatever it might be. “What” exactly they were part of didn’t matter. They were all together. Meanwhile the wide-eyed crazed festivalgoers fought for a glimpse of where all the insanity was originating from.
Dressed as a tall urban cowboy and stomping around in cowboy boots John was a fairly conspicuous presence. He was clustered with a group of party people close to the stage when the White Rabbit Girl suddenly appeared in front of him. She wore a saucy grin. John looked to each side wondering if she were actually dancing with him. She looked him in the eyes and with a calibrated and deliberate softness she conveyed that they were, in fact, dancing together.
Two more young women wormed their way out from the wriggling giggling writhing crowd. When the music lowered at some point the White Rabbit Girl leaned in and introduced her self.
“Hey I’m Princess.”
She half-yelled to get over the pounding music. The young beauty smiled a confident smile and laughed lightly at her silly festival moniker.
“My real name is Aya.”
She corrected casually even though one rule at the festival was to not use your real name. But John was happy she’d already broken the rule. He felt an immediate connection to this girl he had fantasized about for days. Later she turned to her two friends now also dancing with John.
“This is Rena. She’s Princess Two.”
Aya laughed easily as she indicated a short cute casual Asian girl that John assumed was from the Philippines. This girl looked flirty and casual. Rena gave the impression of a person not to be taken too seriously. She was dressed in a pink princess style fluffy frock. On her head she had a faux diamond tiara stuck in her hair. Turning to her right Aya indicated the second girl.
“This is my friend Jenny. She’s Princess Three.”
John liked Jenny immediately. She was petite like a model and most probably no more than a size two. Jenny was the kind of longhaired beauty every man wants to hit on, but most lack the confidence to approach. John was certain at a club this girl would attract a line-up.
John used as loud a voice as he dared to introduce him self to the three girls. He felt stupid saying it, but still it was Burning Man. Fuck it he decided.
He blushed for some unknown reason. Blushing made him feel even more stupid. The three of them danced together for a while when a third girl squeezed out of the crowd and whispered into Princess’s ear. The new girl joined their group and danced along to the soaring music.
When another opportunity presented itself in the loud music Aya introduced her new friend as “Linda”. John couldn’t hear the name so he leaned closer to Aya’s face. This was the closest he had ever been to her body so far and it thrilled him.
“What’s her name again?”
John asked. Aya told him her new friend’s name was Linda and that she was half-Swedish and half-Chinese. Linda was shorter than Aya and in no way as exotic looking, but she certainly had larger breasts. Linda’s hair was short and curly and she looked friendly and sort of practical.
As they danced a joint got passed around and the girls each took a puff before handing it to John. When Aya took her first puff she coughed heavily. John inhaled deeply on his toke and looked around amazed at where he was. The White Rabbit Girl moved and danced closer to him. She giggled and reached out to hold his hand.
“I’ve never smoked dope before in my life.”
John could detect a daring thrill in Aya’s eyes. She was finally doing stuff her parents had strictly forbidden. Her eyes were dancing with multiple shades of brown and gold and a flickering lick of fire. John laughed out loud and squeezed Aya’s hand reassuringly.
“I know. I haven’t done shit like this for years either.”
Aya giggled along with him, but she didn’t let go of John’s hand and she danced closer to his body. Aya began to chat with John and they rubbed up against each other in the jostle of the madly gyrating crowd. Up close John realized this girl was breathtakingly beautiful. He was totally smitten and yet Aya was so casual about her beauty. It was as if she had no idea how gorgeous she was.
Aya told him she was studying engineering and math and he told her about his travels in Asia and Europe. She teased him about how he had watched her over the past week. But it was an innocent tease and they both laughed in a relaxed mood.
A bottle of beer appeared and Aya giggled as she grabbed it. John nodded and she took a big swig. Perhaps the swig was a bit too big. Aya laughed too hard and some of the beer shot out of her nose in a wild spray of yellow.
They both laughed madly as Aya bent over double with crazy giggles. John grabbed the beer from Aya’s slender hand. He took a big swig. They finished the bottle together.
“I don’t really drink you know.”
Aya admitted to John as her cheeks blushed. She seemed rather embarrassed the beer had sprayed out her nose. The dance carried on and Aya seemed to have no desire to leave. John certainly didn’t want her to go.
John’s pounding heart was racing nervously. What would he do if she decided to just disappear? The crowd was so dense he would never find her. He didn’t know where her camp was. The festival was almost over and he’d never see her again. As John was mulling over his predicament he saw Aya hold out her hand.
“Here swallow this?”
Aya’s face was wearing a most mischievous teasing smile. John looked sceptically at the small light beige pill. What was it he wondered? An upper? His face crinkled in quizzical curiosity. Before he could ask Aya what it was she interjected.
“Don’t worry it won’t hurt you. Trust me. Just swallow. They give them to us at the Cloud.”
Aya poked John playfully in the ribs. She squealed wildly along with her three friends when he jumped. John was rather ticklish and now that the girls knew his weakness he was at a disadvantage. Aya threatened more tickles so he quickly took the pill and swallowed washing it down with a swig from another beer bottle that appeared. She grinned happily. She looked pleased that he’d done what she asked.
Time seemed not to pass in the ordinary fashion. It was easy to be with Aya for some reason. There was no awkwardness or strange silences. Even the silences seemed perfect and natural and she seemed intent on continuing to hold his hand as they danced. The other three girls disappeared at various times and the couple were left alone.
It was during a soft romantic song that Aya slid into John’s arms. She craned her neck to look up at him. An inviting smile was on her face. She looked so young and innocent. Her perfection almost scared John. The joints, the beer, the whisky, they had all had an effect. Normally John might have feared rejection, but now he just leaned down and kissed her lips.
After that they seemed to take every chance to kiss and hold each other. They would sway to the music and just relish being in each other’s arms, feeling the heat from the other’s body. Time passed, but John had no idea how much. He was lost and yet he was found. He was so happy and content in Aya’s arms, gazing into her brown eyes. His cock was also getting hard. No matter what he did he couldn’t make it go down.
At some point Aya held out her right arm. John could see a delicate drawing of a deer on the underside of her right forearm. It looked like a tattoo and yet he knew it was not. It did not look at all permanent. She had a coloured wristband on her wrist. If forced John would describe the wristband’s colour as burnt orange.
“Nice picture of a deer. Did you draw it?”
Aya giggled softly.
“Yeah I was bored.”
He laughed and pulled her closer. She was a good artist too. He wanted this girl. He kissed her softly on the tip of her cute nose. She looked so beautiful. His brain was swirling in confusion and yet he felt clear headed. His cock was hard and throbbing. He knew for a certainty there was something special about this girl.
“Did you use a pen or pencil.”
She laughed easily.
“Neither. I used my eyeliner pencil. It should last about two days I think.”
They swayed with the now gentle music. Then Aya indicated her wristband.
“We can go to the Cloud if you want?”
Her cheeks flushed hot pink. John was confused. He had smoked too much dope and wasn’t used to so much alcohol. His brain struggled with what exactly the “Cloud” could be. What was Aya referring to? She laughed and hid her face nervously in his chest. She whispered again.
“Cloud Bliss silly. I have a wristband. I’ve not used it yet. Do you want to go? It’s really close by.”
Aya’s heart raced. She was asking this guy to go and be alone with her in a tent. This was the craziest thing she had ever done in her life and yet it felt perfect. For John it was as if serendipity was sorting out all his life’s deficits in a single stroke. Like everything they did together it seemed to happen naturally.
Aya was holding John’s hand and tugging him away from the music and madly dancing crowd. Aya’s friends were left behind in the mad mix. John had no idea where Dave and Steve were. Suddenly at Cloud Bliss’s door Aya was showing a girl in a Spartan warriors outfit her burnt orange wristband. The warrior nodded and they were admitted.
Then Aya was giggling nervously and pulling John inside the big white tent. John had no idea what the future held. Inside his brain he just looked at gorgeous young Aya and repeated to himself “what the fuck.” Sometimes John you just have to say “what the fuck.”
As Aya tugged him forward she grabbed a water bottle filled with tequila from a white plastic table. It seemed booze was free. She was laughing and tugging him eagerly. John was looking at her mini skirt, her sexy legs, her sexy ass. As Aya laughed with giddy nervousness she said something. John couldn’t hear her.
“What did you say?”
He was smiling. He was happy.
“I said the pill was Cialis.”
Aya laughed lightly and tugged on John’s arm. She eagerly pulled him along a narrow white nylon corridor. John chuckled. No wonder his cock was so hard. John had no chance to say anything when Aya ducked her head down and slid past a flap of white nylon into a private den away from the corridor. John ducked and followed not knowing what would come next.
The Present: The Morning After Inside Cloud Bliss
After the wild morning sex threesome John and the two sexy young girls had fallen asleep again. When John awoke his head was much clearer. The throbbing headache was gone. He could remember most of the night. John looked over and Aya was already awake. She was gazing at him with soft feminine eyes. Rena had disappeared.
Aya’s voice was soft and feminine. John smiled.
“Now I hope you don’t think I do this sort of thing all the time.”
John smirked an egotistical male smirk.
“I had no such impression.”
He chuckled and she laughed lightly. The girl he was falling in love with poked him playfully in the ribs again. Aya seemed to become thoughtful and her eyes shifted. She turned her soft intent eyes back onto John’s.
“You said some silly things last night you know John?”
He smiled nervously.
He asked with a tinge of regret at what might come to follow. What the fuck had he said? Could he blame it on all the alcohol?
“Ah huh. Yup you did.”
John rubbed his fingers nervously and reached out to hold her hand to calm his racing heart.
“Okay. Shoot away.”
Aya’s eyes danced. She paused for dramatic effect.
“You sort of offered to take me to Bali.”
“Oops? Did I?”
Aya laughed and giggled.
“Yup you sure did. She squeezed his hand with hers.”
She looked away. Her eyes looked into the distance of the vaulted white canopy. She was nervous. She reached for her faux white rabbit fur jacket and rummaged in the pocket. She pulled out an eyeliner pencil.
“Anyways John. No pressure. But I like you. I like you a lot. You’re interesting.”
Her cheeks bloomed a brighter red.
“So anyways. This is my number.”
Aya grabbed his forearm and with her black eyeliner pencil she wrote a cell phone number along the underside of his arm. John stared at her dumbfounded. His own heart was racing a million miles an hour.
“So anyways I’m not……”
John leaned forward and stopped her gibberish with a kiss. The kiss made her giggle and then sigh and then moan. John finally pulled his lips away.
“Shut up. Stop talking.”
He said. When she tried to speak a second time he kissed her again, but more briefly. John grabbed the eyeliner pencil from her slender hand.
“Give me your other arm. I don’t want to damage that beautiful drawing of the deer you made.”
Aya laughed. She held out her other bare forearm. John wrote with her eyeliner pencil.
“This is my number. Let’s work out the dates. Bali it is.”
“But no Rena okay?”
His face must be a bright shade of red he knew, but he wanted Aya to understand.
“Just you and me. Deal?”
She laughed easily. Her eyes danced.
“Yeah of course. Don’t expect that threesome thing all the time handsome. This is Burning Man after all.”
They both laughed at the same time. John and Aya walked out of the huge white tent hand in hand. John looked up at the bright desert sun. It was rising towards its apex. It certainly was a new day dawned. The morning after the Sunrise Dance felt like a new beginning. John breathed in deeply and sighed contentedly. Aya squeezed his hand and their eyes connected.
Whatever they had found together was deeply instinctive and incredibly frail. John understood that and he realized whatever it was needed to be nurtured and protected. Perhaps their love, their connection, or whatever you wanted to call it, had been forged in conditions not normally accepted by society. True, Burning Man was an extreme time and place. And yet the gifts serendipity bestowed could not be taken for granted. What had occurred was twisted and yet precious.
John had a new purpose in life. He was holding Aya’s hand gently as they walked into the bright light of a new day. His eyes saw how the little gold bumblebees on Aya’s blouse glowed gold in the near mid-day sun.
It was the morning after and he was happy.
John thought of the future. He looked around the empty vastness of the desert. It might be empty, but he had a future now, a real future.
Aya would return to Arizona and he would return to Hong Kong. But plans needed to be made. Hotel reservations and airline tickets needed to be booked. He was wearing a smile. Life was good.
Sometimes John realized you just needed to say “what the fuck”. Serendipity will take care of the rest.