The mood being indescribable to some could be congealed into just one under the breath declaration, “Restless.” Everyone was! Months of being talked down to like children about do’s and mostly don’ts had run its course. The official timetable had now become an encumbrance much as those bright blue mostly cloudless sky that awaited one’s crackpot misadventures just out of reach. Anything that one could summon beyond simply aimless pacing footsteps seemed fair game. The animal within had its ears pricked up and was looking for prey. A look, perhaps a random word from a stranger, something might lead to an opportunity. After all,caution had worn thin, and the sheets high up in the rigging had been set at least twenty times hoping to head towards a growing sense of imminent storm. Rudolph, just his stage name, had no red nose. Perhaps a distant German relative or two? That popular namesake not simply deferring to the fact that he was no Spring chicken. But counted on the fact that poultry of his description were scarce these days. A lack of concern had descended upon him like a gladiator’s net poised under the trident. Something of an ever more fearsome quality continuously changing its description nebulously signifying the possibility of even more increasing danger. This tack had lost its power to fill the sails. Sex had become more his thing. Or should one more realistically quip, the residual effect of a longstanding lack of it! How long had it been since he had been warm belly against warm belly with anyone? A very long time indeed as it was next to impossible to conjure up a clear image of a female face with a hint of curvy hips or shapely breasts. How odd that each partner he had once known had a signature in their appearance? Generally by that respective foliage nesting upon their Venus mound. Maybe that notable nose of his had once gained notoriety in times past from the constant friction applied upon those bird baskets? And just as likely, might have caught some type of a lingering malheureux? The affliction rampant upon the other side of some femme’s temporal paradise in the vicinity of that perpetually dampened regions located betwixt Sodom and Gomorrah? The plain undeniable fact being that otherwise, Rudolph was an abysmal stick man.
Those older opportunities to plow so many furrows in anxious fields of youth had long ago yielded little in the way of crops, or lasting contracts that might have been followed up in the next coming of Spring. The aura of freely available sex partners back then seemed endless in the possibilities of sexual pleasure being timeless in terms of availability. And of course, as with all things assayed in youth, nothing could have been further than the truth! Strong brown tanned shoulders and arms of yore now transitioned into flabby skinned pale chicken wings over the passage of time. Their atrophy overlooked by the urgency of a constantly repressed libido. Strong branched boughs of thigh and calves equally withered to bandy stick legged limbs. Yet now in the present tense, the most important part gone fallow to static and inert. Hardly a it well-packaged piece of male brisket to be of interest to any roving young female adventuress out on a romp to discern where a good time might be unexpectedly hiding out. Even the prospect of those of his own age likened to the nicest most elegant of classic vehicles, the older ones occasionally needing a jump once in a while, seemed distant in possibility of coitus. Unfortunately his own vehicle was held up by cinder blocks, lacking rubber. It’s dead battery unable to render sufficient motivating spark. Sex for him now had become a purely selfish mental exercise of the mind alone. One that required a tireless working of his wrist to the external rhythm of an 2D flesh filled Internet. Mambo’s there featuring endless varieties of pump and hump. Perversion, some would not hesitate to call it! “Being marooned upon his own personal desert island . . .“, as he would choose to think of it. A state of mind physically far away from the danger of those ever present neurotic solipsistic failures so characteristic of women of his own age. Too many of these creatures now long past their second divorce. And every one eagerly looking for foolish males to help lighten the burden of their ongoing financial tribulations. And factoring the other side of the equation, never provided with a reliable measure of safety in having some local whore too near to your wallet and able to look up your home address. The collection of same a Sargasso sea of social degenerates in a larger ocean of perverted narcissist’s!
What did it matter at this point in his existence anyway? The future had flown away like a bunch of startled starlings. The whole group rapidly disappearing off into the distant horizon. That haphazard rocket ship of regular society sent off into continuous orbit around the banality of endless shows of modern arrogance. Rudolph was just looking for some fun, as in the old days! Rudolph’s tastes in porno had become eclectic. This might include anything! In fact, the real fun behind the whole experience was to try to find the most absurd combinations of traits. Type in some conflicting random words and see what sauntered up on the screen in terms of an absurdest sexual behavior that would be vindicated in an extravagant pictorial representation of one, two or any number of individuals enacting it. More than anything the fascination with all things extremes, ones that some other anonymous parties were so willing to allow themselves to be exposed to was the main attraction of the experience for him. How was it, he would ask himself, that so many otherwise conventional looking men and women could submit to so many forms of coitus in such raw circumstances? Some of them allowing physical abuse as a prerequisite to stir their passions. Some scenarios making one wonder if those actors taking center stage were left in one piece still breathing at the conclusion of their episode? This left Rudolph in the position of an active voyeur. One who, on occasions just before and immediately after the passion of viewing had subsided, was struck by a moral dilemma wondering if he was in some remote sense enabling the spread of decadence throughout the world by being such an avid and active audience? Though he couldn’t ever recall having purchased these sorts of materials in the past beyond perhaps that one time at a bargain counter of a crusty sex shop some forty years previous when such places still existed. He still felt a slight sense of responsibility. Not that he had done anything since that time in terms of adding his monetary support to the nefarious nether world beyond of course giving it his occasional voyeuristic attention. The damage done he instinctively knew was deep down within his own soul. No longer could he directly associate a default sense of innocence with the physical fulfillment of his animal within. The two sensibilities had become mutually exclusive for him. Something much in the same way that the old game of the endless chase for material success had now been thrust out of reach from most of the world. These mutually exclusive realms were now always going to be a case of applying sheer animal lust for physical bed and board survival. No more tender sentiments of delicate touch and embrace possible over the current gap of social distancing that was demanded of all modern Jill and Joe’s.
Perhaps that endless press of humanity had long left him a masochist. That tender part of him that had accumulated nothing but endless misfortunes now a furnace of unquenchable terrible rage. Something that had to be balanced by an iron willed intellectually founded mental reserve to keep it from boiling over uncontrollably to lead him to a bad end. Too many times in preadolescence being the butt of other little boy’s jokes. There counterpoint in little girls seeking out someone near as the next likely victim to tease and bully. Too often as the new kid, he found him the most logical choice. Why he would too often wonder was this so? What about him conveyed an obvious quality of vulnerability or some other invisible sign post that proclaimed him as an available easy target for their abuse? He could much later see that the typed of surrogates and protagonists that he personally sought out in later years seemed to carry that same sense of insoluble riddle at their core being. An innocuous appearance not necessarily the major factor in the abuse. Yet whomever was responsible for enacting these scenarios knew the answer to this secret. Many a time stroking away Rudolph would speculate how it was so apparent that he was so obviously pegged? The sight of absolute vulnerability of someone being subjected to vicious impacts of the lash over every part of their body connecting with his own long suppressed rage. Its unconsumed fuel converted into the intensity of ardent desire. So much so, that it could revive even the dead! His own current impotence easily dispelled as his flaccid normally indifferent equipment would slowly stir to fire off a dripping salute. The sticky end result of this process sad testament that the limits of his advancing age. Yet proof of a sort that the river Styx of sexual possibilities had not yet been fully crossed. It all seemed so imperfectly tawdry?
The successive days in this lock down would wear on interminably till nighttime. The main event being ‘pick your perversion‘ themes that required thinking outside of the box in terms of incomprehensible configurations of possibilities. A sound of angry voices issuing from the unit immediately below interrupting his concentration. “Fuck Corona!” “Fuck Corona!” “Fuck Corona!” An angry voice sporting a decidedly ghetto accent ceaselessly railing on outside. Possibly from from a member of some drug addicted miscreant of a roving gang. “Thump.” Thump.” “Thump.” “Thump.” The continuous sound of urban ghetto nigga downbeat relentlessly shook the floor boards. Suddenly his artificially manufactured sexual ardor evaporated completely and those propped up mental fantasies sped out of his brain like air from a flat tire. And now he felt embarrassment for what he had been planning to do. “Thump.” Thump.” “Thump.” “Thump.” Like an intangible spirit at his door. That mental Dionysian bacchanal fully faded away within him. The triviality of his own pathetic existence exposed by a much larger public fantasy taking its place. Rudolph turned off the television. It was evident that he had briefly fallen asleep just before. He wondered what he should do. Should he directly address his neighbor? What sort of situation would he find? One that even the police would be reluctant to become involved in? His apartment totally dark, he lay upon cold stiff starched muslin sheets his psyche too electrically charged not so much with anger as with a need to actively assert himself to those errant neighbors down below. He jumped up and gathered his house keys then locked his apartment door before heading down the hall to the stairs and then to that apartment just below. “Thump.” Thump.” “Thump.” “Thump.” The volume level of music rose incrementally as he walked forward until some fifty feet away it was staggering in its power. “Thump.” Thump.” “Thump.” “Thump.” The downbeat continued making him wonder if a physical confrontation of some sort was imminent. But onward he padded forth noiselessly towards the end of the hall and his final objective.
“Tap.” “”Tap.” “Tap.” Tap.” “Tap.” He rapped upon the small metallic door knocker sharply announcing his arrival upon a tiny flat plate anvil,. Its vigorous force trying to overcome the loud “Booms” of the music. Rudolph stood there staring pointedly at the tiny iris of the door’s peep hole trying to detect any fluctuation in light that would signal the presence of his neighbor behind it. To his surprise, it was his neighbor’s live-in girlfriend that abruptly swung it open. To Rudolph’s surprise she wears a fashion-struck black knit watch cap emblazoned with a single word, “Security.” The woman below it attired all in black displaying the mental category of blonde and frisky. He stumbled forth expertly with a short phrase to bespeak his arrival. “Music, could you please turn it down a bit?” The snippet offered in a sorry to bother you sort of way. Her lord and master striding up just behind her. The scowl upon his face inviting Rudolph in for the moral hazard of a drink. His quick surrender to their offer an affirmation counter to the original mission. But offering something in its place far more interesting in light of the general social drought afflicting all of them. The three soon gathered about the small Pullman sized counter top beers in hand, each expressing their dissatisfaction with this new unwanted development of a virus plagued life. The man of the house soon revealing himself in a telltale hoarse tone to be the source of the angst driven cries of rage issued earlier to the beat of the radio’s drum. The ‘misses’ all the while dancing too and fro, sex kitten style. Trying to gather all attention by cavorting back and forth in a child-like state of artificially powered bliss to her favorite tunes. The damn humping and bumping radio! And Rudolph, ever polite with an overly generous supply of respectful deference mentally taking this whole scene in. The presence of live humans in action peaking his voyeurism now busy at work trying to decipher the mystery behind the true natures of these two. The once anonymous duo that had hailed him down below by way of irritation. Those two neighbors taking turns ranting on about petty likes and dislikes, eventually stopping at their most mutually favorite topic that they both shared. The verbal panacea of declaring the fact of many frequent acts of sex as their ultimate most immediate goal. He commanding all attention upon his crotch with a short demonstrative hand gesture thus inviting her prompt attention to target itself to that location. A declared form of remedy that must have seemed to him to be the most fitting immediate answer to his distress. And she in turn delivering her own rapid form of response to his inference with a sharp tongued verbal epithet. It was she, Rudolph then realized, and not her angry male consort that ultimately controlled the volume and the show! Much as she did all matters of libido.
The compression of their collective circumstance weighing heavily on all. One that shut in’s like himself having been so quickly transformed by external tyranny to embrace any promise of escape in hope of some form of sexual release serving as a placebo. A convenient place keeper for what was once normal life for each of them. But one without the risk of dangerous commitment to alleviate respective pent up emotions. Yet later, when each was by themselves, wondering what was the sense of a life that was too safe and far removed from any danger at all of having to commit to any realistic type of escape that would really defy the cause of their shared mutual plight? The recent term of isolation had in fact too long been with them since decades past. It’s current worldwide pretext of physical embodiment merely revealing the plain fact of their mutual impotence to the surface of each of their consciousnesses.