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6
My First Time
HUDSON
The first time I ever had sex was with a hooker. Her name was Sam. A birthday present from my dad. I was only seventeen at the time and she must have been in her thirties.
Dark hair, narrow eyes. She was slender with rose-brown skin, marred with a myriad of scars—grotesque and angry scars, some more prominent than others and each with their own horrid tale, from her more demanding group of clients.
I was bewildered by her and the kind of cruel torture she endured just to get a quick dollar. But it wasn’t so simple. A part of her started to crave the pain until she became addicted.
So I continued to keep in contact with Sam, learning from her, because I wanted to know how to inflict pain too and make people beg for it.
My father had corrupted me long before I even had the chance to save myself. Sometimes, I feel as if we are on the same side of a coin. Almost the same person. We both crave power and control.
My father uses his name, money, and influence to get him into high places. It’s just the way the world works. And I use sex. I use my masculinity. I play, catch, let go and then play again.
From Sam, I learned how to use my sexual prowess to gain countless women. Trophies in my head. One after the other. My bed was never empty and it was one hell of an ego trip. The chase thrills me. It’s the only real thing I can feel. The rush in my veins when I know I have a huge influence on someone.
I can’t be romantic. I don’t know how to be. Matt was always lucky even
when he got a big break and left for boarding school. He had other influences. I was the one left behind.
As my childhood went on, I took note of how my father treated my mother. It wasn’t affection, it was more like possession. It made me realize that love isn’t real and that people casually threw the word around not fully grasping the idea of what it truly meant. I never fucking felt butterflies or my heart soaring. And suddenly the wordlovesounded like an illusion.
Things are simple for me. A kiss is a kiss, a blow job is a means for my stimulation. When I have sex, I feel powerful. I feel whole, but not for long because after I come, I’m back in this mediocre existence.
We’re at a family dinner. Matt and Taylor are busy discussing their plans for getting married early next year. It’s typical Matt. Even his choice of a partner is just okay because he’s okay with achieving a mediocre life.
Taylor is a blonde—a bit of a dumb bitch if you ask me—with a fake tan and a spray of dark freckles across her nose. If you had to really study her like how I am, you’d see her whole life story. Teenage cheerleader, she studied a few beauty courses and now she’s ready to put a ring on it and trap my brother into a marriage that probably won’t last.
Or maybe it will and Matt will be forever tied down, forced to live a double life where he resorts to cheating. Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit with the cheating as a last resort. My brother can be compared to a loyal golden retriever. He loves playing by the rules.
I know I sound like a real heartless bastard, but it’s the way life works. You either break down or suck it up and come out as the Apex predator.
People always have an idea of the kind of life they want to achieve when they’re young, but they somehow still manage to fuck it up. Not me though.
I’ve been successfully watching them for an hour now as I drink my beer. They’re so close it almost makes me want to ask them if they’re okay? Matt can’t stop touching her and she can’t stop blushing.
It’s bizarre. I try to think of myself being so close with Parker and I can’t.
But now I’ll have to learn. I need to remind myself from time to time that they are only doing what they are wired to do.
Matt turns to me suddenly and I lift my beer to my mouth, taking a quick swig, averting my gaze to my mom prepping the wooden table for lunch.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about work,” he says, leaning over, clearly wanting to talk privately.
Thankfully, Taylor has enough brain cells, because she smiles, taking this as her cue to leave. Once she’s out of earshot, Matt turns to me.
“I got a phone call the other day,” Matt says.
“And?” Sometimes he can take forever to get to the fucking point.
“It was about you,” he says.
Now I am curious. I sit up straight and place my elbows on the wooden table before me.
“What about me?”
