Note from RR: This was a suicide note found by a friend. It was found on a coffee table smeared with lube, littered with cigarette ash and a dusting of white powder. The note wasn't signed, but maybe you'll recognize its author.
It's Saturday night, and Miss Tina is over again. She's become a regular fixture around my place. Once upon a time, she was everything I ever wanted in a friend. She was fun, boys and girls! She was cheap. She was wicked. She could keep me up all night.
But Miss Tina just isn't much fun anymore. She's like that little devil that sits on your shoulder and talks you into doing things you should never do, not when you're in your right mind. But Miss Tina is an expert at taking you out of your right mind. She likes to get you all excited, heart racing, pulse pounding, so that all you can think about is pleasure. Miss Tina is, or at least she once was, the ultimate hedonist.
But as I said, she's not much fun anymore. She's reneged on the promise she initially gave me when we first became friends. Back then, it was "let the good times roll!" and she kept me going … there was no such thing as too much sex, there was no such thing as not knowing someone well enough, there was no such thing as being discriminating … a man was a man was a man … as long as he had a hard dick. Tina would whisper: "go for it." What did she care? When the consequences came around, clamoring to be paid, Miss Tina was out to lunch, or would have been, if the railish thing ever believed in eating. No, Miss Tina wasn't around for the empty pockets, empty checkbook, the diagnoses of illnesses that were embarrassing or horrifying.
But in spite of her perfidy, I always invited her back into my life. She had a way of making me miss her. Even though she was a bitch who betrayed me. With Miss Tina, you learned the lesson of betrayal early on, but she was always too charming and you'd always wind up forgiving her.
Because you remembered the good times. And Miss Tina always held out the promise that they would be back. Those good times. Those hot, sweaty times when sex could last for twelve, fourteen hours. When you felt so up you could do anything.
Except Miss Tina still hangs around and the good times seem to have taken a powder. Now she just makes me feel sick. Now it's too much trouble to try to find partner or partners to share in the joy she used to bring. It's easier to pop in a porno and hope that some of the old euphoria will return.
It has to come back. Miss Tina used to really deliver. I'll keep trying her until she comes back. We had such fun!!