WILSON, Graceland Rae

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......................................... GRACELAND RAE WILSON . 22 . UNEMPLOYED . NEW YORK CITY ......................................... "I wouldn't say that Kolter was the first. He happened to just by me a shot at the bar back home in Pegram. It was the tattoos that struck me. He had a skull on his right arm and I thought it was the hottest thing I've ever seen. I wasn't one for tattoos and never thought that I would be. But he wore them so well. One drink turned in to two and the next thing I knew I was waking up beside him. Black make up smeared up and down my face from the night before I quickly snuck out. Staying the night was never an option with them. The deal was all about the sex, at least for me. Kolter, on the other hand, had a different plan. Pegram is a small town. It didn't take long for him to find me, or the next bar that I chose for that night. He was persistent, promising to take me out after we fucked but mostly just wanting to fuck. He kept his word though. Kolter was just spending a couple weeks in Tennessee. He raced cars and the first thing he took me to a street race I think I feel in love. Or what I called love. After weeks of us spending so much time together, he got 'Pegram' tattooed on his arm. Said that it was now his favorite place on earth. It was all about the thrill and then like every other time the thrill lessened. The flame burned out and the infatuated that I felt for him and all the other boys before him was gone. Kolter didn't like that I ignored his texts or phone calls. Seeing him in person was complicated, he wanted an explanation and I couldn't give one to him. Or one that he would even begin to understand. I wonder if he still has that tattoo on his arm. "Dylan wasn't as exciting as Kolter. It's a miracle that I even remember him because things didn't even get very far. After my dad passed away, I took a trip to California. Santa Monica Beach is where we met. He was giving surfing lessons and naturally I was interested. He was tattoo-free and sometimes his hair looked a green from chlorine. Nevertheless I found myself attracted to him. Maybe it was the way he flipped his hair when he was doing something, like we were still in middle school. I fell but not in the way that others had made me feel. He was sweet, a very simple guy and I liked that. He taught me how to swim and I taught him how to properly kiss. Not with too much tongue and turning his head the right way. He'd take me out for a few dates and then we'd make out in his car like we were teenagers again. Occasionally I'd let his hand slip up my shirt but nothing further.  There it was, the thrill again. A good kind of thrill, nothing like the way Kolter made me feel.  It was fun and then I was ready to go home. He wasn't upset, he accepted it.  " Henry. Where do I start with him? The guy that can't seem to get enough attention. The first time we met he asked me if I knew who he was. As if I was living under a fucking rock. He asked my name probably three time, since the club was too loud and we were surrounded my Europeans with some strange names. The locals didn't speak English and it was so blazing hot in Morocco.  My accent was 'weird' according to him. He tried to sweet talk me, said it was good to have another American around. He tried to guess where I was from, the 'accent' not as southern as he thought. He never heard of Pegram which I wasn't the least bit surprised. It's like a big light bulb flashed on when I explained how little it was. Followed by a toothy grin and a promise to buy me a drink. So we had a drink and I could tell he was so anxious to fuck. He was pounding down the shots like this was his last night. He knew the bartender by name and it was hot. I found myself wanting to feel the stubble that coated his pinkish cheeks. With that many shots in him, he was promising the world. Whispering things in my ear that were so dirty that'd make anyone blush. The heat coming off his body felt so good and right, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Or the couple of sober times after that. He was the type of guy that stayed for weeks while I was only there for a few short nights. I left him high and dry in Morocco, left his place that sunny morning with my shoes in my hand and the prospect of probably never seeing him again. But it is Henry Schwartz we are talking about. he seems to pop up everywhere. ......................................... KAYLA . ANASTASIA . VISITOR .........................................