Pussyboy

Peter Street

By the time I've arrived on X and Ocean, I was exhausted. I kept reliving everything that happened in my life.

Who was I to think everything was gonna get better?

Jackie was curled up in the fleece I grew up with in his room. Zayn was naked in my room that used to be ours. He was sprawled all over the bed and was open for anyone to see.

I went to the bathroom when I entered. I looked at myself. Who was I lookin at? I was a nobody. A sore damned loser.

I was lookin at myself when I felt hands go round my waist. They were soft and sensual. Typical if you wanna fuck.

I knew those hands and knew who ran those too. Zayn Malik. He must've woken up when I opened the door.

I turned around and faced him. He was smilin at me. I was looked like a rat.

"Hey," he drawled out. His voice was soft and greasy. "Where'd you been all day?"

"Somewhere between 123rd and Broadway."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

Short and tight. I could really get a spot on the Real Housewives if the scene were always about cheatin husbands. But we weren't together and I didn't really want to. It was too soon to say.

A month had passed and I was still skeptical. He wasn't tellin us anything about his new job that paid a shit ton of money.

"Wanna do it tonight?"

That question just blew me off. No, I didn't wanna do it tonight. Or this morning.

Why would even ask that?

He does know what my job is. I'm a whore. A full-fledged one.

I practically hated doing it without gettin paid for it. It was some conditioning or some psycho shit. I've become used to being paid for fucks and I wasn't gonna fuck my ex-whatever again. I've been in that emotional holocaust already.

I didn't need anymore mistakes in my damned life.

A male becoming suddenly pregnant in high school then becoming a single parent is already shitty enough. Believe me, I've had all the looks thrown and my parents were the icing in the fucking cake of a horrible fucked up life.

Can't Zayn just fuckin die already?

Isn't it enough that he ruined my life and fucking fucked it up? He should've helped me with this - Jackie's his child too. He shouldn't ballsy in going in and out of this household or having any fuckin options to leave when he pleased and leave us beggin for food or shit heating.

Now, he's come back.

What a show! 

"Not really."

He made a face full of disbelief and some pain. I wounded his pride. Asshole narcissist.

"You don't wanna fuck?"

He pushed.

"Not even a little bit itchy to do it?"

He pushed more.

Well, that's what he was great at anyway. Making things fit when they don't. He didn't care, never have.

"No."

I never expected him to predatorily stalk towards me when my back was to him. I just felt his fucking breath on the back of my neck.

Oh, I remember this game.

He started touching or more like rubbing his hands sensually on both my arms - up and down. Then, he slowly centered all of his attention to my shoulders. Rubbing circles. Just rubbing circles again, and again, and again.

Knock. Knock.

Thank fucking god! Wherever the fuck he is.

The door opened and Zayn dismayed, expressed an exasperated sigh and looked at the door as I did. Jackie poked his head out.

"Hey, dad."

"Yeah?"

I answered. Zayn was too cockblocked for his own good.

"Uhm, I was wondering if I could go to a friend's tomorrow and maybe sleep over?"

I hate this. 

I'm nervous.

I wanted to give him immediate permission but this was shit. He could get in trouble. I remembered my mother's constant worrying then and now, I could see it. It was scary.

What if anything happened to Jackie?

He was a small boy, well - taller but thin and could easily be fucked by any male his age now. It was scary.

I felt that the shit in our food today explains how big kids have been becoming every generation and how we as a poor urban family isn't getting enough of that GMO shit and that poison from those farms. Maybe we were lucky?

But Jackie was skinny.

I couldn't handle my baby boy getting mugged or fucked up or fucked.

It would send everything I ever done into question. It would mean that I fought my mother for the right to roam and be a normal teenager or pre-teen, I don't know what those shrinks are calling this part of the age spectrum, and yet am willing to withhold this fucking right to be given to Jackie.

Oh, fuck this!

Okay, whatever comes out of my mouth first must be right.

Okay.

Start counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"Yeah, you can go."

What?

"Thanks, dad."

"Yeah."

I just couldn't believe it. I just replied vacantly. I didn't even bother talking to Jackie about rules and the what the fucks. No, Mister Malik here just happens to don't care about safety.

Jackie closed the door and went back to his bedroom. I turned to the motherfucker, who's also the other parent of my son. I opened my mouth to argue. Wanting to scream my head off and bash his head against that crass cement wall I wallpapered in paisley six months ago.

Instead of words blurting out of my mouth, I just exclaimed the simple phrase I know to be fucking true. And I gave him the universal gesture.

"Fuck you,  and no, never."