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I was going through a hard time, and taking huge doses of a medication that had been prescribed not for me, but for my Irish Setter. My Setter was going through a hard time too. We were both a mess. She was old, older in dog years than any human has ever lived. She reeked of chronically infected urine. I spent so much time taking care of her that I exuded the same foul odor. I'd let my hair grow, chin and scalp. My hair was all over the place. I was such a mess that the first thing my public defender said to me when we met was that I'd have to clean up before she put me in front of a jury. It was also the last thing she said to me. I don't think she remembered that she had said it at the beginning.

The medication I was sharing with my Setter was supposed to help her sleep. It helped me to sleep, too.
It was tough going, jacking off.
As a side effect, it also removed practically all my interest in sex. But my life was in such chaos that sex was a low priority anyway. In any case, I went from sixty thoughts of sex an hour to near zero in just a month. I sat in my cubicle from dusk to dawn (I'd been put on the night shift after I became unkempt) and sex was the furthest thing from my mind. For the first time in my life I was getting almost no spontaneous hard-ons: a whole night would go by without a good, strong, out-of-the blue erection. I worried that I was damaging my virility, so I'd force myself to jack off every so often as a safety precaution. It was tough going, jacking off. Often I'd lose interest and fall asleep before I finished. And when I came, after a week of not jacking off, all I produced was a dribble and a little puddle. I would have asked my doctor about that, if I'd had a doctor.

Then I got a new public defender. My first PD handed me off to someone less likely to be repulsed by an addict in need of shearing. My new public defender — I couldn't believe my eyes — was a dead ringer for Georgette Eastburn. Georgette was the daughter of the police chief when I was growing up, and my sexual obsession from grades eight through eleven. The constant hard-on I had during those four years was due almost entirely to Georgette Eastburn. Georgette sat next to me in French class; every single essay I wrote incorporated her in one way or another. Madame Pfeiffer warned me that she would grade me down if I didn't get myself untracked, but Georgette was my muse. Madame couldn't grade me down because my French was as impeccable as my Georgette-inspired hard-on was perpetual.

I had no case. This was the good news from my new PD, but it swept right past me. My PD was giving me a hard-on! I watched her lips move, but I didn't hear a word. Georgette Eastburn's lips: in eleventh grade, Georgette would pout and I and half the class would spurt. A zillion fantasies came flooding back while I pretended to pay attention to the hopeless facts of my case. If fate could provide me with a public defender whom I'd had wet dreams about on a weekly basis for four years running, there was hope in the world.

           

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15 Comments

Well this is SO much better than all those low-brow confessionals so many people complain about... /sarcasm

NDO commented on 08/06

This is actually a great piece of writing. I look forward to more from this author.

RD commented on 08/06

God, this is just like 95% of all American writing now days. When is this going to end?

TK commented on 08/06

I've read Fortunato Salazar's other work and one thing I can say for sure, it doesn't remotely resemble 95% of all American writing now days.

CJ commented on 08/06

Terrific writing...and funny. Can the person who says this resembles 95% of american writing actually back that up with some kind of explanation. Otherwise the comment is meaningless.

tern commented on 08/06

Hey I actually liked this one! Hooksexup management people, if you're reading this, bring us more writing from this guy! (and less from much of the other writers who've moved in since the big shake-up)

PI commented on 08/06

Yeah, this was great. First piece I've really dug the hell out of since the redesign.

TD commented on 08/07

more of this, please

mp commented on 08/07

this was useless and dull

jp commented on 08/07

Poor man. Good writer, though.

CJM commented on 08/08

Much better than the pap or plain old crap on display here in the year or two before the redesign.

TITS commented on 08/08

loved this

ja commented on 08/08

As my role model, Christopher Walken, might say "WOW!" This is one of the best short pieces I've read in a very long time. Fortunato Salzar can really, really write. I'm gonna check out his other stuff.

myth commented on 08/09

Always nice to hear from the people who *aren't* getting laid. If I judged my life by number of orgasms with another person in the room, I might as well jump off a bridge. Thank you for showing that there are multiple possibilities for sexuality.

EM commented on 08/23

This was a waste. Boring.

JS commented on 08/26
 

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