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08-14-2019 17:04 pdt

The progress is temporarily slowed due to changes on the backend. We are streamlining again so pushing forth with new material will take time. Stay tuned.

Another domain has been added to the fold, and we are considering replacing the title of the entire site and transferring the content to one of the other domains. Web business dictates an easy-to-follow URL, simplicity, and a title which does not convolute in any way when pronounced. We have been using Coma since mid-2012 without issue, however due to the depth of what has been built here we must plan for the future and long-term visibility. The words will keep rolling and the pages piling up. So far, everything we have constructed for ease of reading and navigation has paid off. This next step is not yet a certainty, however it may come to pass out of necessity for the future.


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Jack and Jill

Part Four


"I then realized that the physical exploration had to cease for good. The pain and difficulty combined with Rachel being so young and in a state I had not seen before, the decision became as illuminated as the sun after exiting a dim bar during a winter morning. No other choice. None. Finished.

God damn fuck it all.

We laid there a long while and whispered quietly of the nature of things. Her dissatisfaction with life in that little town across the river was apparent and made me wish to bring her along to California. Of course that type of idea was insane so I did not bring it up, however helping such a kind soul seemed compelling beyond words. When she spoke of her daily activities and the expectations of others I felt cut inside, as if my heart was being wounded by her unhappiness. I could do nothing to help. Nothing. Rachel told me that being out of town and alone with a sensitive person was wonderful, but I knew all along that my flight would materialize soon enough, leaving her in the same situation which dictated her life before my reckless head came to town. I cared. I honestly did. Being against her all warm and nude began to take my head apart. Right next to me was a young soul with wide eyes and little satisfaction in life. In seconds the sex flew out of my head and would not return. Gone in a flash. Heartbreaking, but not the physical aspect. Her eyes killed me without compassion.

Boy did I need a fucking drink.

After some time we pulled ourselves out of the dark conversation and back into the shower. No passion, just big, emotional eyes and a tender kiss now and then. Clean, out, dry, dressed. Tuesday morning and still I had no plans to leave... Yet. Soon enough life would return and my downward spiral along with it. For the time being I was content to be near Rachel and that cute expression which had dictated my derailing the trip home and wanting to be all over her. Problems, depression, difficult conversation, pain, everything... I was done with the passion and need. To the car with Rachel's fucking heels clicking through my brain like the Morse code of sex. We plopped into the rental and headed toward Evansville. Calm discussion, hands clasped, and Rachel looking like a very emotional, very concerned goddess. Fuck me. I felt as if I had only brought her to a place of worry.

No. Quite the reverse. Huh?



595



Rachel sat there with her fingers all over my arm and stated that she would not have traded any of it for anything else at all. Wow. She continued that the comfort of being so close to a person with a large measure of understanding and patience made her realize that the possibilities of the future were secure. In the end, that was what she had sought. Jesus, really? Not sex? Nope. Just tenderness, warmth, and someone to hear how she felt. Rachel also told me that the sex was wondrous but still elusive. She could not relax herself at such a point in her life and simply needed to explore lightly. For fuck's sake... She was happy that we had joined for a time and would carry the days with her along with an appreciation for the idea that her world was opening. During our exchange on that highway all of my worry over returning home fell away. The girl was wonderful and comforting.

Not for long. I felt a bender incoming.

We stopped where the whole thing began, that airport bar which was again as empty as every visit. The bartender was pleasant and welcoming, leaving Rachel and me to split ourselves with a bit of privacy. The conversation was quick and to the point. A long hug, kiss, and Rachel waddled that little ass out of my life. Another hole began to open within me, my bartender saw the distress forming in my eyes, and the booze flowed in front of me like the most necessary elixir of life. Juliette popped into my head with her bouncing mane and never-ending slew of heels. That rear end walked out of my room years earlier and left a gaping hole in me that remained for a very long time as I tried to live without the vast comfort of her heart near mine. I told the bartender I needed to secure some business before relaxing too long and she smiled like always, telling me that her company was there as necessary. I took to the pathway and cruised through the mostly-empty terminal toward my first step in flying home. Along the way I saw very few people and even less when it came to activities or distractions for waiting travelers. Oy. Small, yet somehow cavernous.

Though I was able to book a flight very quickly, the small airport’s schedule was unlike those to which I had become accustomed. Yep... Two hours of waiting. The freaking plane was not even in the air and en route to the Evansville terminal. Ugh. One bar, zero food other than snacks. That was just not my thing. The hour was still fairly early so I calculated that to sink into the Outback in Cincinnati would be fine. I also had a layover there similar to the trip east. Considering my time in that restaurant coupled with the craziness which followed, I had a head full of anticipation. Back to the barstool and my cocktail after gaining a boarding pass and connecting flight from Cincinnati. I still did not wish to go home after being in the warm embrace of that young girl, however the best choice was to get back and mire myself within the life I left behind. I always had the option. Always, and that was a daily thought.

Two drinks later and I walked my half-numb ass to the second little plane of that week. Male attendant. Good. I didn't need to be tossed in front of attractive females again, especially considering the feelings inside me after being intertwined with Rachel and her unreal form. Oy. Through the door with a nod and smile to the last female crew until Cincinnati. A smile back and one the plane. No drinks, no snacks, male crew, just fine. Out came the book and I kept to myself in the single seat. Bye Rachel.

The short flight went by smoothly. Touchdown. Terminal. Already I was two in, so straight to the bar again and with worry over being home taking my comfort as always. I missed her, the little airport bar, and our cozy room so many miles away. Thoughts of returning to work and making nice with people were pressing me down. I could not rise from any of it after feeling so free and in control. The very idea of being home was difficult and forced me to dream of running away to the promised land and severing connections in order to drown into that which I so badly needed. The Luxor called but I was helpless to respond. Juliette. Ashley and her compassionate love. Melanie's big eyes looking upon me as if I was important to the world. All of it. Gone, yet still as compelling as being far from my fucking slow-moving and dissatisfying existence.

The same barstool welcomed me along with a smile from that dark-haired woman from days earlier. Yes.

Booze. Salad incoming.



596



I thought of Stephanie and our short-lived passion days earlier and yearned for someone to sit next to me with available ears. Nothing. Just a few male travelers focused upon their phones. Ugh. Males.

The bartender's name was Christine. Adorable. We spoke here and there when she had the time. I told her of the buffet, connecting with Rachel and running into Kentucky, and the sheer number of women toward whom I threw myself toward in search of anything which had the ability to separate my fucked up life from being the focal point I could not escape. She listened just like so many others in the past, reacted to the desperation I could not hide, and sweetly comforted as much as possible. The woman was so very good at being behind that bar and with the seemingly ingrained talent of bringing a smile to whomever may come along. I failed to imagine how many travelers must have sat there for lunch or dinner in a given day -- all different and from endless locations as they moved from place to place. Hundreds? Christine's insight had to be vast.

So, I propositioned her and made it clear that my plans would adjust to whatever may give us time together. Yep. There just was no end to my reaching. Depression all over my face, words slightly slurred, eyes filled with emotion. She was intrigued (sound familiar?). In return I received surprise, but then again perhaps not so much. Christine walked away to take care of her duties and did not return for some time. Worried. I did it again. I gushed without restriction, and toward a person who did her best to be kind and neutral. Nonjudgemental. Sweet. Understanding. Helpful. What in the blue fuck was wrong with me? Was every woman a combination of Jasmine's fire and Juliette's heart? Jesus fucking Christ in a fuel cell, I was ruining myself with every single syllable.

Christine returned and left my salad along with a setup. Smiling, I looked at her with intensity when she turned to walk away. Hmm. And then a look back with concern. Oy. What was that? Worry? From a person I hardly knew? Wow. Or perhaps just concern over me being there again for hours and throwing myself toward any woman who may respond. I could understand how reckless and desperate I must have appeared to others, but honestly I could not help it. Reaching... Ever reaching for something which had the ability to satiate my need to be comforted. She came back to me as two guests departed the bar and dropped her elbows to the rail, staring.

'So, what is it? Tell me.'
'Um...'

I skimmed a bit of myself and tried to describe the hole I had constantly tried to fill along with the other hole I had been living within for a decade. I gushed a bit more about Juliette and Ashley which left Christine without words. Big fucking surprise. She did not leave it alone, though. More questions after some time, another drink, and finally some solid food to try and absorb the booze before I boarded another plane and threw myself at whatever walked by. Christine was very kind and with eyes that took my difficulty away for a time. I needed to drown into her embrace and let flow my story, but alas another detour could have been the proverbial nail. Home just had to happen. Still, the idea floated within and felt compelling enough to warrant another fucking line thrown out like a fisherman lacking dinner for three days.

'Spend time with me... Please.'
'Holy shit, my dear. Really?'

Again she trotted off with even bigger eyes. God damn did I ever feel weakened and stupid for tossing those words at a woman who showed me nothing aside from kindness. Yes, she was beautiful with all that flowing hair and big, dark eyes which telegraphed caring. I just couldn't resist asking, but as soon as the question rolled off my tongue that familiar knot formed within. The pull of lying in her long arms was just too much for my depressed state and I expressed myself before any possibility of stopping. Damn it. When Christine returned again I was hunched over and fearing the consequences of acting so forward.

'I feel for you. I really do, and watching you sit there so sad and needy breaks my heart, but I can do nothing to help except what we discuss here. You need to go home, ok?'

Fuck. I did it again and was shut down quickly. She did care... I saw it, felt it, wanted it and her all over me, but denying her words would have been very bad. I decided at long last to leave it alone.

'I know. And I apologize.'
'It's ok. Just take care of yourself and maybe seek help.'
'Yes ma'am.' Smile.

There it was. Done. No more pushing, asking, anything. I sat with my head full of shit and ate my lunch. Christine came by from time to time, smiled, and made sure I was comfortable. Water? Yes. More alcohol? No. I already was slurring enough to realize that the upcoming flight was going to be tough on my patience. A little while later I closed the check and indicated that my time in that bar was over. Christine dropped her apron, rolled quickly around to my position and grabbed hold. That was likely the nicest hug I had felt for years. The emotion began to make a beeline for my eyes so I took her shoulders, said goodbye, and stepped out into the terminal as if my ass was on fire and the gate was the water. Goodbye you beautiful, caring woman, and hello alone. Fuck me.

Again. How many fucking times?



597



The gate was crowded, full of families, noisy, and very uncomfortable for yours truly. I isolated myself near the windows and went over the insane events of the last two days. At that point in time I felt weaker and more needy than ever in my life -- even more than Vegas when I pulled Juliette close and drowned myself into her loving embrace. The tears were right there behind a tiny shield and keeping them back took all of me. Steel. Still. Wait.

Boarding. The end of the jetway was decorated with yet another gorgeous woman and I did my best to avoid seeing too much before passing and locating my seat. Home was in my head, too, and worry over the delay I had caused by altering the original plan to be with Rachel. Fuck. Seated. I turned to look up the aisle.

Jill was on her name tag. Jill. And she was going to bring me Jack. Heh. The little plane from Evansville was just like the flight east... Tiny and void of anything other than windows. On the other hand, the big Virgin airliner was just my style. A screen in the seat-back in front of me, movies, live TV, ordering refreshments from my seated position, and a full staff of female attendants. Good? In a way. Bad? Yes, for them.

Seated to my right was an older woman unconcerned with the activities around her, and to my left (yep... middle fucking seat) a younger woman who looked like Rachel on the surface -- straight-laced and very uptight. That figured into my luck for sitting around others. And then there was Jill again. Tall, smiley, mysterious, and the one link to my getting sloshed during the route. Please. Oy, and gone for takeoff. I just sat there feeling as if I was in a crowded room, chained to a chair and unable to do as I needed. The young one on my left had the fucking window, and as much as I always enjoyed peering out during takeoff, I did not wish to invade her space (actually, I wanted to invade much more... like her fucking pants). No worries to the right. That woman was on another planet. Aside from a pile of magazines, she was interested in exactly nothing. I decided to be polite and ask of sharing the window. A bit of a startled look later, the answer was 'sure'. Nice.

Blast off. Leveling. Tongue loosened as always. Remember the recklessness? Here we go...

Jill came along with a second attendant -- a cute, petite blonde named Susan -- and the cart which held my courage and sedation. I leered with desperate eyes and ordered two bottles with a mixer. Midday did not seem an off time for booze (plus it was me, no shit), and though drinking on a flight is common, both women flanking me gazed over in wonder. My jewelry gently clinked as I grabbed for the medicine, after which the window girl stared at the little bottles on my tray table. I whispered to her that my lifestyle seemed to be a tad different than others nearby and assured her that there were no worries with my drowning myself to forget everything. She came right back at me with a cute 'it's ok'. Nice, yet tentative. I felt that leaving her be was the best idea even considering her voice reminding me of Rachel and Ashley. And there it was. I immediately needed to fall into her neck and cry. So I told her.

That was the beginning of a conversation I would not soon forget. The girl was radically off-limits and completely unavailable to someone like me, but the sweetness in her voice and eyes allowed me to gush about nearly everything with which I had been dealing. She listened, offered a bit of insight, and let me go on regardless of whether or not she understood the underlying mindset. And then I asked to hold her hand. Nope. Again, off the menu. Just conversation. She folded her book, placed it in the seat, and centered her attention on the flamboyant, tipsy train wreck sitting idly to her right. We spoke, I dreamed. Again the need to touch her. No. Fuck no. Just fingers? Another no, and then a stop sign.

'That is not right, ok?'
'Yeah, I know.'
'How did you get so upset today?'

I went into a few things related to prior years and spelled out my suspicion of the road I followed to end up such an emotional mess filled with booze. Corinne listened intently, glancing to the drink at times. I then went into the current trip and my adventures of hitting on nearly every female in view. Why? She wished to understand after telling me that I was an interesting person. Big surprise. Not just some sort of hound chasing whatever receptacle was nearby, but a human being so compelled to seek a woman within whom I could find a place of solace. Sex? Of course. Intimacy on every level.

'Wow.'
'Ugh.'

Onward we flew, more I drank, more we spoke. The flight moved along as I ignored the time, and still the desire pushed me to ask for things she simply would not honor. When Jill returned, the woman to my right had gone for a walk to the restroom. I asked her to sit. Huh? No. I asked for her hand. Huh? No. I threw myself at her indiscriminately and with the girl sitting there wide-eyed and wondering what was inside me to cause such crazy behavior. Again I propositioned Jill and asked that we spend time outside the flight. Giggle. No. Smile. Fuck me. A last-ditch effort to find that elusive place and she walked away. I looked to the left again and saw a frightened face and sadness at my ridiculous tossing of words in Jill's direction.

No shit. Every fucking time.

One more try. The woman returned from the coach restroom and I stood before she sat. Jill was to the rear, just past the aisle with emergency exits flanking the seats. I stepped with purpose and tapped her shoulder. She turned, smiled, and asked of my needs. I then whispered some pointed words to her causing a blush, and Jill assured me that if she were not already deep in a relationship I would be taken in hand for more attention and understanding. She expressed wonder at my personality, wished me well while glancing my arm, and made it clear that I was to calm down and care for myself before throwing my entire being at others. Crap, but sweet. Back to the seat where a startled Corinne looked at me as if I was about to jump from the plane. No more words, a bit more booze, and that was that. Another idiot reaching out to any woman who showed caring. Slumped, depressed, and fearing the end of my trip.

Approach, landing, depression, and feeling the edge of everything spinning me into a saddened froth.



598



The flight was scheduled to land at LAX in mid-evening and my connection was nearby. No layover. Upon touching down I checked the departures and learned that the plane to SFO had been canceled. What? Straight to the counter. Indeed it was gone. The attendant sent me to another gate with a boarding pass to San Diego. Wonderful. My mostly-drunken state disallowed any issue with the change. I was already completely defeated and felt that whatever came along would be just fine. I did not give a shit. Onward, with those women flying through my head, and for whatever reason Jill was at the forefront. Perhaps the look of her eyes struck me more than the gorgeous uniform wrapped around her and that impeccable makeup. She was so lovely. Rachel? That was a different story and seemed surreal when I considered how quickly I had made the decision to stay there and spend time with her. Our suite was like another world, and her cuteness took my sense away upon hearing that voice. Was I crazy? Yep. Always. Crazy, weak, and so easily tripped up enough by a female to further damage my everyday lifestyle. But Jill... The way she looked at me and offered a touch. Something was there, like more than a simple gesture toward a passenger. I never had the chance to learn more, unfortunately, and after departing the aircraft her image stayed put. That woman remained right behind my eyes for the rest of the trip and beyond.

Boarded, and without throwing my words out in any direction. I was quiet. San Diego a very short time later.

The split terminal was strange, alien to me. The layout was such that I had to leave security in order to find my next gate, and along the tram ride I continued to drop. My actions were haphazard throughout those days and realizing that soon I would be mired in life was difficult to swallow. I did not want it and began to think of running away again. Ugh. What was I? A person? Who could have known.

An hour passed since touching the SD runway and I was exhausted. One more flight and hopefully nothing in view. I had cruised all the way through to my next gate with minimal glancing around. As the booze faded into the night, knowing that for me to open my mouth toward anyone was a bad idea. Especially females. I steered clear and took to the window. There was the little plane. Attendants were at the gate but still I did my best to leave it alone. Just like me… Alone. Boarding the fourth flight since leaving Rachel in Evansville felt as if I had been traveling for months. So fucking tired. I strolled to the door and handed my pass to a young woman, my face fell, and I moved along to the back of the plane. Aisle seat. Thumbs down. Whatever. SFO soon, and my bed soon after. The fairly short flight went by smoothly with only a handful of visits by the attendants. Naturally one was adorable and her dark hair pulled at me to make contact. I did nothing more than fake a few smiles. Oh I needed to fall into her lovely arms, however by that point in the trip I was destroyed. I could not do anything. Just tired, and not because of the travel. All me. Touchdown. I smiled at the beautiful hair, blew her a kiss and stumbled out with giggling behind me. Terminal. Baggage claim. Depression. Midnight. Wrecked.

My fucking bag did not appear on the carousel, nor did the others that came from Cincinnati. Lots of people waiting for answers at twelve in the morning. I was dying to get out and away from others but ended up sitting around the baggage area until nearly two. Tired, depressed, and still needing that elusive coziness and support which could hold me up. I was still as out of balance as six years earlier but felt helpless to make a change. Jasmine the fire alarm, Juliette the fucking dream, and Ashley the doll with her unending sweetness and care.

The luggage finally arrived. Out. Car. Gone. Thank Christ. Empty roads before me and the strong desire to just curl up into a ball and cry. Home. Two days later than originally planned, broken beyond belief, but home once again. All of the past arrivals flashed quickly through my memory as I dropped my head to the pillow. The hour was so late and the feelings so fresh that I failed to calm my pulse enough to drift off. Work in three hours? Fuck no. Sleep and lots of thinking. Rest.

End of line."



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