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Mike was ten years younger than me. When he told me he was back on the coke, I slapped his face, both cheeks, really hard. I'd found him at our neighborhood haunt, all iced out with some bartender slut. He saw me there and couldn't even speak. A fucking corpse with ass-red eyes. I had taught him how to go down on a girl.

Lastminute.com had a deal to Key West the next day. It was Spring Break, balmy, girls gone wild. A multitude of dudes who'd get down with no strings.

The room at my motel didn't face the water. Rows of blue metal balconies from the hotel across the street had towels and bathing suits on top of each other. A blonde girl in a T-shirt and thong bikini bottoms was shaking out her wet hair. Then this

guy with a crew cut and sunglasses around his neck came out of the screen doors behind her. I saw his face, his mouth twitch, as he watched her bent over shaking. He was holding an ice bucket filled with beers. Still holding the bucket, he slapped her ass. The girl bolted up and screamed as if she didn't like it. But the guy slapped her again and she started laughing, high, kind of hiccup laughs — it hurts, stop! It hurts! Her ass was burnt in big red blotches.

It was around five o'clock in the afternoon. The sun was filling up the air. I put on my red bikini under one of those see-through white beach things that tries to cover up your thighs. I pinned my room key to a spot at my waist and headed out with nothing else.

I made it as far as Mallory Square. The ocean looked like a tank of glass. People were shopping at arts-and-crafts stands. I sat down on a bench, wanted a drink, something to highlight the fucking sights: a bunch of white girls getting their hair done in braids, fritters for sale, green slices of pie. Clowns rode by on unicycles.

Why did I think I'd want to fuck these zinc-nosed beefs in sandals and shorts? I thought about Mike and his slut doing lines in the john. His hand on the back of her skull as she sucked his cock fast, his face red, butt clenched, them rattling the stall.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. I couldn't take another breath.

It must've been a while before I noticed this gangly hippy-type with a camel-hump paunch. He had a long white beard intertwined with black stingers. He smiled at me and moved through the crowd. He walked by maybe three or four times. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I was supposed to respond to, except he kept zigzagging closer. I looked like a tourist. He looked like a local. I was waiting for his dancing around me to stop.

Mike always held my hair in a ponytail when I blew him, moved my head by the throat up and down his whole dick.

"That's one hot-pink ass of a sun."

The hippy was standing in front of me. I think I laughed. I smelled hooch. He had a one-hit pipe in his palm.

Reggae music started to play. This guy was a Jerry Garcia-type, frizzy hair and drooping cheeks, but his lips were fleshy, practically purple, jutting out like a flower on a bush. I wondered if he was actually trying to pick me up.

I took the dugout. My chest kind of fluttered as the guy lit it and closed the lever for me. I think I got the biggest hit of my life. I passed the thing back and tried not to cough. The sunset got fuzzy. I leaned back into the bench. The guy sat down next to me.

"All the freaks used to come down here high on Cid to watch Atlantis rising," he said. His voluptuous mouth moved around in a circle.

Really quickly, I felt too stoned. I wanted to sleep. It was hot. There were hairs on his knuckles. I stared at the guy's forearm, tan and bowed. A soft green tattoo hid under the hairs. I realized he was holding my hand.

"Anything goes down here, you know."

My bikini bottoms were stuck to the bench with sweat because I'd been sitting there watching the crowds for so long. I made my legs stand. I started to laugh. The guy smiled at me but stayed put on the bench. I tried to pull myself away. We were still holding hands. My limbs felt all warm from how he was gripping. I saw the way he was checking out my ass. I got pulses in my cunt. The air was turning purple. It was like he had his mouth down there.