By David Garber
Since my breakup with Shelby, my social life had been a bit slow. Okay, not exactly slow, dormant. I was at the point where I got excited just slipping into my skinny jeans.
Now ordinarily it’s not the best strategy to cruise a pick-up hangout by standing next to the coolest looking dude in the place. At best you’d figure to get lost in his shade. But the new me had a plan. I staked out a spot next to a guy who was so Rico Suave he made Jason Statham look like a sissy. But I thought, if I could just nab one of his cast-offs…
Even Stevie Wonder could see this freakazoid of superior looks was a babe magnet for high 9’s and perfect 10’s. Me, I’d settle for an okay 4…or even a 2 with a strong pulse and all her own teeth.
Across the room, a vision approached me and the hunkanator. Then reality hit. Soon Mr. Amazing would score with this chick and I’d be left alone, performing dental checks on all those 2’s.
Miss Thang sauntered right up to us. She stared into Mr. Everything’s studly dark eyes and said, “Excuse me. I’m…”
The dude finished her sentence, “…Hurricane Lacy. I know, because you’re blowing me away.”
Okay, so he wasn’t the wittiest guy in the world, but hell, he didn’t have to be.
“Kyle?” she asked, looking past the gonad gangsta and straight at me.
“Yeah, I’m Kyle,” I answered, quite stunned. “Do we know each other?”
“No, but we can change that.”
I figured someone must have slipped some “X” into my drink because this couldn’t really be happening. Then it occurred to me. This had to be a reoccurrence of my Psychotic Schizophrenic Disorder.
So I addressed it head-on. “Are you dead?”
She chuckled. “Of course not. If I was, could I do this?” She reached for my jewels, massaged them ever so gently, which gave me quite a thrill.
Seems she was used to that reaction. “My father was a Boston longshoreman and when I was born, he told the other dockworkers, “I was the de light at de end of de tunnel. It was either gonna be Delight, De-end or Detunnel.”
I reassured her, “He picked da right one.”
She smiled seductively at me. Either this girl was crazy or I was – and I didn’t really care which. The focus of my thoughts was getting her home and jumping her bones.
Delight pointed to an attractive girl across the room who I vaguely recognized. “Liz is my roommate. She told me you tried to pick her up once and said that you see dead celebrities.”
Shit. I had tried that once and thought it might work as a pick-up. Desperate men do desperate things, including telling the truth.
What I found curious was that Liz shared this tidbit with Delight, and Delight didn’t seem to care. If anything, it was a turn on – or was that just my beer-buzz thinking?
“Is there anyone famous with you now,” Delight gushed in genuine excitement. I looked around, knowing no apparitions were there, but I tried to play it a bit.
“No, not right now. But maybe back at my place. That’s where they usually hang out.”
“Then why are we here?”
She bought it! And before long, the two of us were stripping each other naked, at the foot of my bed. The distance between us was exactly 6 3/4 inches, I know because – well, I just know. I stared into her gorgeous blue eyes, then gazed down at her amazing rack, then back to her baby blues, then back to her jaw-dropping breasts. Hey, I’m a guy. I can’t help myself.
As I was caressing her perfectly shaped shoulder intending to work my way down, she lifted my chin so I’d be looking her eye to eye. “Do me a favor.”
“Bring on Heath. I want Heath Ledger to screw me with you.”
“If he’s not around, how about Kurt Cobain? Or Johnny Depp.”
I was stunned, and could only stammer, “Depp isn’t dead.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” she acknowledged. “Well, what other dead guys do you know?”
I shared with her that I couldn’t control who showed up or when.
“But they will come, right?”
“I’m sure someone will,” was all I could utter with any assurance. That someone was going to be me and probably soon.
She ripped the top off my condom packet with her teeth, spitting the strip to the floor. This chick was wild. As she started to slide the protection onto its intended home, I was going crazy mad. Then I observed her attention waning. If there was ever need for quick thinking, this was it.
“Slap her ass, Heath,” I shouted. ”She likes that. Tongue her ear! You love that, baby, don’t you?!”
She suddenly turned on like a ten thousand volt charge zapped through her body.
“C’mon Heath,” she moaned. “Do it, Baby. C’mon. I’m wet.”
Freaky. I hadn’t even touched her and she was writhing in ecstasy. Delight either had PSD like me, or was just good ol’ fashioned, bat shit crazy. But there was something missing.
“Hey, what about me?” I inquired.
“Join us. I want you both. C’mon. C’mon!!!”
I joined in, lying on top of her. Soon she rolled me over and rode me like Seabiscuit. And she was one helluva jockey. Her amazing skills had me at the threshold of that nirvana moment. Just as I released, she did as well, crying out, “Yes! Yes! Give it to me! Give it to me, Heath!”
I could only hope Delight’s first “give it to me!” was directed to ME.
Mutual climax. Evidently for all three of us.
As she rolled off, Delight excused herself and headed to the bathroom. She looked back toward me, “Don’t go anywhere. That was amazing. When I get back, get someone else to join us.”
Us? Hopefully she meant me and her being joined by someone else – not her and Heath and some unnamed third.
Delight had just closed the door behind her when I heard, “You owe me, dude. Big-time.”
I looked across the room and there was Heath Ledger. Damn he looked good. “Why’d you tell her I was here when I wasn’t?”
“From the looks of things, you could have been,” I responded as it sunk in he was as naked as I was, with his manhood standing at full attention. “Man, even your Johnson smiles like the Joker….that isn’t gay, right?”
He slyly smiled. “You’re real. I’m not – any longer. You should be able to bed a chick on your own. You don’t need me as your crutch. I’m not a wing man. I’m a leading man.”
I shot back, “An aroused leading man.”
“Now you are starting to sound gay. Hey, I may be dead, but I’m not… dead, dead!” Heath shrugged as he continued. “Look, I don’t mind being used, but where’s your self-esteem, man? Do you have so little confidence in yourself that you have to trick women into sleeping with you?”
“Uh… yes.” I waited a beat, then added, “I’m sorry…” Then the truth gushed out, “No, I’m not. You’re Heath “Fuckin’” Ledger. You’ve got great looks, charm, and a big… personality. All I’ve got is dead people popping in and out of my head. Why shouldn’t I use it?”
“Do you think we’ll always be with you?”
I hadn’t really thought about it much. “I just assumed…”
Heath then looked at me as the bathroom door opened. “At least she’s hot. Gotta give you that.”
As Delight slid in next to me on the bed, she looked over and commented on the tent my groin had produced with the top sheet.
“Looks like someone’s ready for round two.”
I smiled and defiantly eyed Heath while addressing Delight, “Who do you want to join us this time?”
Ledger shook his head, then disappeared.
With each name Delight listed, I could feel the blood draining from its throbbing location.
“How about James Dean? Or John Belushi? I loved him in Animal House. Do you know Jim Morrison? The Doors were so dope. Or Hendrix…”
It was gone. Not just Heath, but the urge, the excitement, the desire…my erection. As Delight’s wish-list continued, she included every name but mine. I couldn’t take it. I finally got her dressed and out the door.
Heath suddenly returned. “Proud of you, Dude. You showed some balls.”
“So did you,” I chuckled as the door flung open again. It was Delight. “What about Amy Winehouse? I’d be willing to dip into the lady pond for her…”
Heath broke out in laughter, and I did too.
“At least think about it,” Delight opined.
As she left, I promised her I would. And I did, the next night. Oh, and you won’t believe where Amy Winehouse has a syringe-pierced, heart-shaped tattoo. Now dat’s Delight!