marlin barGod, making love to her. Nothing is as sweet. A folksy tune breaks my thoughts. Aiyana is up on the small stage in front of this quaint hippie bar playing a set. College students abound and the hint of sandalwood being a much invited soothing bliss to the atmosphere. Aiyana strums and sings to a smooth Melissa Ferrick melody. I’ve also recently discovered the talent she has and now witnessing it for the first time, she bestows upon the gathered masses a silky voice and rhythmic fingers. Her presence on stage is hypnotizing and she owns it. Exotic dancing is just a side note. She only does it to bring in the money needed for the expensive ass studio time and all else. It really doesn’t matter why she dances. In music and dancing she does both quite well. It seems to me that she has a fiesty Midas touch. I know everytime she touches me I light up everywhere and a silky flow starts between my thighs. I find my pulse start heavily as my lungs take control, I let out a long pleasing sigh. My thoughts triggered of sexed up memories of our night together. I wouldn’t mind the taste of her on my lips and fingers again.

I am the biggest fucking slut, asshole. At least in my thoughts. Here I am thinking of the sex I have had with one woman and the sex I almost had with another. This has been bothering me for weeks, about the same time since I saw Dee last. Did I lead her on? Was she just vulnerable? I know she was fucking vulnerable. That’s why you didn’t do it dumb ass. I wonder if she wants nothing to do with me now? This rambling, manic contemplation is not good sitting in a bar while one is in recovery. My mania is broken by the fumbling of a drunk and dreaded guy who has just spilled his shot of Patron near me. Man, I know that one hurt. Spilling a shot like that, you’re tempted to lick it off the bar no matter how many feces riddled fingers have dabbled upon it. The smell, I involuntarily inhale deeply. Ok, time to take a breather. I need to tell Aiyana. As I walk out Aiyana has finished her set and notices my hurried pace towards the door. Fearing I may look like some panicked crazy person, I slow my walk, at least attempt to. I’m sure my appearance has turned a nice verdant coloring. Aiyana starts over to me. I stop momentarily so as not to appear I am running from her. I begin to sense peoples inquisitive stares.

I have now reached a new level of uncomfortable in my emotions. My hope, Aiyana sees the signal in my body language. That signal screams, I need to get the fuck out of there! I begin counting my steps as I exit toward the door. Tunnel vision has set in. One goal. 6,7,8,9. I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok! Just need to get the fuck out, get the fuck out! You’re gonna lose it, I’m not gonna lose it! I watch my hand, fingers white, pulse beats through my flesh, push against the door. My mind takes the door off its hinges, metal bends, the woods splinters. My mind screams the thought, my body acts with an attempted deliberate action as not to invoke the feared question, “Who’s the crazy?” Fucking piece of shit door, you’re in my way!

I’m out, I’m out. The light, it feels good, safe. It blankets me, my mind. I’m alright, my breathing is good, calm, it’s coming back. Ok, ok, ok. I hear the door open behind me. I unclench my fists and eyes. I hope that attack was not as noticeable to everyone else as it was for my mind and body. My chest and skin like needles. A pressure building like gravity had turned a heavy syrup consistency. My awareness on high alert.

“You alright?” Aiyana’s gaze is wide.

“Yeah, I’m better now. Just needed to get out of there for a moment.”

Aiyana strokes my hair. I sit on the bench outside realizing I have been out here bent over with my fists on my knees. Outside a bar, I’m sure that looked like I was throwing up 2 years of sobriety. Fuck, hope none of my AA comrades saw it. All of us addicts are professional liars. They probably wouldn’t believe I was instead having an all encompassing debilitating panic attack. Well , maybe. I’ve redeemed myself a bit in those two years.

What the fuck was that attack about? The alcohol? The feeling I’m cheating on two different people? My mind is dizzy in question.

“What happened?” As Aiyana says it she sits down next to me and places her hand on my knee. She is truly concerned. Just tell her.

“The walls just started moving in on me. Getting crowded and all.” True I say to myself but some I am also lying by omission. Fucking addict, fucking liar. It was never this hard with Dee. It was always just natural. I just have to get to that state of “natural” with Aiyana. “I don’t do very well in bars.” I give Aiyana a side glance hoping she has gotten the subtle hint of what I’m trying to say.

“I was kinda wondering about that. You never get anything with alcohol.” What a relief, my mind eases. My sigh is audible to her. It’s out and she still likes me, wants to be around me.

“I have a couple close friends in recovery. I should have maybe said something. I’m sorry.” As she says it she takes my hand.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s my deal.” I feel a bead of sweat race its way down the back of my ear.

As I finish the words, without a blink her grasp on me intense but soft,  “Its our deal now.”

Manic Expose Vol. 2 Chapter 2

LGBTQ Nation


Photo courtesy of Steven “AK Black Bear” T. (Marlin Bar)

About PJ Secluded

Introspective writer working on first manuscript. Writer of original series, poems, musings of sorts and the occasional manic prose. My main blog is an original series seen through the eyes of the lesbian protagonist Burgess. With her brood of studs, they conquer fear and tragedy, embracing love and the experiences between close friends. I have been writing for just a little while now and found a true passion for it. I want to help others through my writing discussing sensitive issues that affect the LGBTQ community in a unique fashion


Burgess and the Brood, Lgbtq, Uncategorized, women


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