21 Days of Damage

HE had a few days off from stressful, physically and emotionally demanding work. It was 21 days to be exact, and he counted every second of it. Just a short break in-between work contract - something he never did before. Looking back, he didn’t realize how it would alter his whole life, and definitely something he would never do again. But the money was good, the work was flowing with adrenaline and hardship, so the break was well deserved.

AFTER arriving at the hotel facing the main road, a short distance from the beach - a high-rise at least ten stories tall - he was surrounded by a colorful variety of exotic vegetation, the stale humid air that sits inside your nostrils, and the sounds of wild birds. All that around him was his, and his to enjoy. He comfortably took possession of his own full bed without hesitation, dropping the bags on the red carpet with some kind of flower pattern that mimicked the vegetation around the building itself. He was committed to going out that evening, to explore the nightlife and all that goes with it.

BY fortunate accident he stumbled upon a perfect landing spot - ground zero for every evening outing and his adventures to follow. Located right on the main strip of the busiest district in the city, neatly surrounded by palm trees and black accent walls, with dim neon lights, slow-burn music, and attractive staff. He knew he would never visit this place again after the trip - nor wanted to create an illusion of paradise - but this particular spot had it all. He was hooked.

WALKING inside the lounge and scanning the room for available tables and future trouble in a miniskirt or sundress, his confidence was redlining. Wearing nothing but linen pants with a brown belt, beige shoes with a pointy toe, and a V-neck shirt with buttons. Inside his pockets were a few essential items: a pack of cigarettes without a lighter, a black leather wallet, mint gum, a few rubbers, and balls full of confidence and desire. He was set and ready. The night was scared of him, and the ladies felt that trembling beneath them.

THE bartender said, “What can I get you this evening?” standing tall behind the counter while wearing a significantly smaller T-shirt.

“I feel dangerous,” he said with confidence. “Let me get six oysters - no sauce - and three shots of vodka, chilled.”

After a short pause he added, “And a gin and tonic while I wait.”

THE night was young and he needed to set the foundation for the remainder of the evening. He felt the eyes on him; he heard the jealous comments; he was dialed in with precision and attention to detail. He was playing the game of chess, not checkers.

WHILE sitting alone at the table with three empty chairs, right in the middle of the patio, his demeanor was arrogant and welcoming. The ashtray set empty; the glass full with a drink was sweating profusely; pack of cigarettes - still no lighter. He was calculating his next move, smirking. He attracted so much attention and hype that people started to ask about him at the bar that carried an impressive selection of whiskies - but that’s not why he was there. He had plans to screw, tame, and neglect - anything but whisky that night and the one after.

THAT night he selectively picked up a group of seven attractive, fine-smelling, cocktail-dress-wearing ladies who were taking their holiday break in the busiest part of the city. After getting them a drink and performing nothing less than a fucking miracle stunt - one that originated with Dice Clay himself - those moves, that smooth motion, and the rhythmic performance of lighting the cigarette set the precedence not only for that night, but for the rest of his well-deserved time off. The rest is history.

HIS mind and his body were divine; the symphony of lust and desire was in high accord. He knew the trip in-between work was more than just a break - it was a catalyst for living and suffering. He was welcomed at that lounge every night with smiles and occasional whistles from the staff. He even got invited to the employees-only party - let me tell you, the mess they had afterwards.

THE stay at the hotel came to a complete halt, and reality carried over the cloud of hardship and future struggles for him. The vacation was over, but the moments he lived through - those walls and those selected rooms - witnessed the true animal at its finest. All it took was being in the moment.

HE finally left the city with nothing but stories to live for, and every one of them cost him more than he would ever admit.