Monday, 2 June 2014

Short Story: 'Tinder Malfunction'





TINDER
MALFUNCTION





By Luke Kristopher Davis

         This is where I forgot the rest of the world. All the shit that clogged up the arteries of my perpetually meaningless life evaporated away, dispersed into the infinite nothingness that existed outside of me. I stared into my own eyes in the mirror as if I was searching for myself beyond the flesh that was me, but I knew there was nothing. It was some bullshit mental game I played with myself to get me pumped. Sweat droplets slivered down my face. I loved that. My jet black hair, I smiled to myself as I remembered one waitress who told me that it was like James Franco's, glistened under the artificial lighting. I could hear only my own breathing, my pounding heartbeat and the seemingly endless electronic playlist that I always listened to. As I curled one of the 22 kg dumbbells in my arms, keeping the elbows tucked in and not rocking my arms or body as to isolate the bicep and destroy more muscle fibers, I examined the muscle striations on my shoulders and the veins in my bicep and forearm. After two repetitions I made eye contact with myself again and performed more repetitions alternating each arm until failure.
         I placed the weights in the dumbbell rack and wiped my face with my towel. One guy excused me so he could use the same weights, I looked at him and examined if he had a lower body fat percentage than me, I didn't think he did as his face seemed more round and he lacked the vascularity that I had. The rest of the gym gradually came into focus. It was open plan, white walls and floors, extremely clean. There was an abdominal class happening to the left of me with a mixture of men and women all in great shape. As I walked towards the fountain to fill up on the water I saw some great legs, my eyes followed the curves starting from the calves along her firm quadriceps and they circled around her ass which was emphasized by her nike leggings. She left the fountain and marched her way back to the treadmill she was on, her blonde hair, locked in a tight bun, didn't move a millimeter as she traveled across the gym. I began to fill up my bottle but still looking at her ass as she returned to her running pace, my mouth started to salivate, eyelids flickering and eyes rolled back  as I imagined my face squeezed between her sweaty legs with...
"Hey bro, how much water do you need?"
My jaw snapped shut. Water was flowing out of my bottle.
"...Can't ever get too much water right..."
I replied still looking at the hard young body on the treadmill. My watched churped, it was 8 pm. I made plans to see the guys from work in 'Ascent', a relatively new contemporary bar in town, at 9:30 pm so I savored the view of this hard body and made my way to the parking lot.
        The Jaguar F-type is engineered to deliver sports car driving that's instinctive, intuitive and alive. My Jaguar was black, with real leather seating, great authentic music system and a driving experience only fit for my salary. When I drove through the congested streets of London the car didn't make me feel instinctive, intuitive or alive it didn't make me feel anything. I only drove it to compete with my friends and to showcase my success which will grant me an advantage in picking up women, wealthier friends and greater economic opportunities.
        As soon as I returned to my modern apartment, I showered, shaved and put on a shiny navy Armani suit with a white Tommy Hilfiger shirt with no tie, button undone as to show class but to not hint at an over exhausted work ethic or conservative outlook. Just before I left for Ascent, I drank a whey protein isolate shake which was stored in the fridge and took three creatine tablets, as to maximize muscle recovery. I knew we were going to eat sushi or some form of protein nutritious meal whilst at the bar, so I didn't need to eat any of my pre-prepared meals.
       Ascent was my kind of place. Everyone dressed to impress, wearing sleek suits and the women wore tight dresses and heels accentuating their hard delicious bodies without looking like complete coked up gold-diggers. The bar's decor embodied minimalism, the art on the walls was abstract ranging from works in the style of Mondrian and modern minimalist artists in London. The layout was of a circular type. The bar was in the center of the space and surrounding it was a dancefloor and surrounding that was a great number of luxurious booths which contained wide, comfortable sofas for cliques and groups to relax in. The music never escaped the hypnotic electronic beats which the clientele favored, the songs never contained lyrics, well sometimes the looping of a meaningless word or some vocalist making oohs and aahs to fit the melody, but the music was all about the repetition of artificial beats. It was a Saturday night, so it was busy. I noticed Tom Brady, an investment banker from the States, who was part of our social group at the bar probably buying a bottle. I looked around the place to spot any nice pussy whilst approaching Tom, but I didn't have enough time to really look.
"Hey Tom! They don't sell any Thai prostitutes here you know!" I had to compete with the thudding of the electronic beat.
"Yah, I'll take two bottles of grey goose! Two bottles!" Tom had his hands on the bar, shouting to the female bartender who had a nice set of assets.
He didn't hear me, so I digged him in the ribs to catch his attention.
"Tom! Are you on the vodka again!?" I smiled and placed my arm round him.
"Get off me Nelson, what are you are fucking faggot! Hahahahaha! Yeah I'm on the vodka again, so what! We're always on the vodka!" He seemed a little intoxicated but still knew what he was doing. We never got too drunk.
The female waitress returned with the bill.
"That's £300 pounds please, what soft drinks would you like? The same as usual?" I heard her, but I don't think Tom did.
"Whaa!? Yea 300 bucks no sweat, take my Amex" He gave her his card without looking at her.
"You're still using Amex in the UK!? You need to hook up with a platinum Barclays card!"
"Fuck you Nelson! I got money flowing outta my ears, I don't need no fucking Barclays card! Hahahhaha!" Tom couldn't quite shout loud enough for me to stay interested in what he had to say, thankfully enough I enjoyed this music. I gazed aimlessly around the bar whilst I wandered whether we would actually order any small dishes of Sushi here, the state of Brady led me to believe that we wouldn't. I was pissed for a few seconds, as If betrayed by my predictions. However I calmed myself and turned towards the bar again.
The hot female bartender gave his card back and we made our way to the booth where she and her other filthy bartender friends would bring the bottles and soft drinks. Our booth was towards the end of the room, if you imagine the room being some sort elliptical in nature and the booth was tangent to the farthest point from the bar, which was one the of loci. I could only see Paul Roth, one of the high frequency traders in our hedgefund, in the booth.
"Nelson. Heard you cashed in gold with that short last week, nice." Roth said, dusting off his Klein suit trouser leg.
 I felt a sense of pride but I wanted to play the whole thing down, as if it was nothing.
"Yeah could have waited a little more time though, could have 'cashed' in a bit more" I said, trying to sound disappointed. Tom flung his body on the booth sofa next to me.
"Fuck Nelson, you need to fucking live your achievements." Tom said, looking into the room probably searching for ass.
"What like you did last week taking that whale back last weekend huh Tom! hahaha!" Paul Roth was sharp with his insults. He laughed at Tom and I laughed too. Tom looked a little offended.
"Fuckkk guys! She had a tight pussy alright, that's all it was. I thought she would do some crazy shit cause she was a fat fucking whore. You know what these Tinder sluts are like! But she was frigid as fuck!" Paul and I were still laughing at Tom.
I thought to myself never to take a fat body home. Why should I? I could get the best hard bodies here. Then another thought alarmed me, what the fuck is Tinder? I didn't want to ask the guys straight up as they would have thought that I was a complete dumb cunt, so I weaved it in somehow.
"Why did you meet her through Tinder?" I asked Tom, analyzing the Grey goose bottle but not actually pouring any.
"You fucking retard Nelson. Geeezzee. Tinder is like the marketplace of horny sluts. Sometimes I can't be arsed to meet some pussy from scratch, put on an act... tell her how much I make in a week and listen to her Nelson. Fuck! Sometimes I just want to go on some app and meet a chick I know wants the fuckng D."
We all started laughing. Roth looked slightly disinterested as he tried to search the place for people he knew.
"What's the best thing a girl has done to you from Tinder then Tom!?" I asked him with a smirk on my face, I reclined into the sofa.
"Well.... this one chick, she's a wannabe model type chick y'know... so when she saw that I had money and  hard rock abs she probably thought I knew people in the industry. So we matched right, fuck! I knew we would match..."
Tom was interrupted by the two female waitresses who bought the bottles over with sparklers, everyone looked at us but Roth was still trying to find people he knew, Tom looked pissed because he was interrupted and I was watching Tom waiting for him to finish his story.
"Fuck! Where was I!?"
"You made a match on Tinder..." I replied immediately, trying to seem uninterested.
"Yeah.. so she was desperate for opportunity right.. fucking whorebag... so she was going to be a dirty whore right! Well we ended up fucking on the kitchen table whilst she wore lingerie! Hahaha, fucking slut right!" Tom looked at Paul then me and then Paul again.
Paul looked at me with a silly smirk on his face and Tom stopped laughing.
"Brady you nerd." Paul laughed and got up.
"Fella's I have to be with the wife early tomorrow morning. Ciao Gents." Paul did the buttons of his Klein blazer and walked towards the exit, he didn't touch the bottle of grey goose.
"Roth does your wife still not know you're fucking other women!?" I asked Paul before he left.
"Probably not, either way I don't care Nelson." Roth left a tip on the table and made a swift exit.
          I knew there wasn't any hot ass tonight, so I felt the urge to leave Brady too, go home and check out this Tinder. I mean you couldn't get more efficient at pulling girls than that, show them what you have in a few photos without being too obvious, get a match then let the fun begin.
"I have to be up early tomorrow too Brady, see you in the office."
 I left Brady, who was in a slouch next to two grey goose bottles on his own in a booth in Ascent. As I walked out, the bar played my favorite electronic beat.
        I came back home, which was deliberately lit dimly so as to set a relaxing mood for when I walked in, to reduce any sort of stress. My apartment was contemporary and followed minimalism, everything bought from Ikea as to create a unified idea of the space that I was living in. Consistency and simplicity were always the priorities. Still in my Armani suit, I sat on my corner sofa and started to download Tinder. 'Tinder is how people meet. It's like real life, but better.' As the glossy loading bar slowly filled across the screen all I thought about was what I could do to the girls with firm tight asses, big racks, long legs, smooth delicate feet, blonde hair, curly brunettes with voluptuous lips which would fit just so perfectly around my cock.
I began sifting through. Too fat. Too fat. Doesn't moisturize. Probably has chlamydia. Nice tits. Great tits. Asian. Too black. Nice. blonde. I do this for two hours. Glued to the screen. It's 1:00 am, better go to sleep to ensure enough recovery time for my muscles. I turned off the lights, brushed my teeth using first Colgate pro-white, then a whitener with baking soda then Listerine.
      I woke up and the first thing I did was check the Tinder app. I had a few matches. A blonde who seemed hot enough and probably worked out. There was also a brunette who had great tits but I prefered blondes. I wanted to message the blonde, now I didn't want to sound too eager for sex as females do not like to be objectified however I wanted to shock her a bit with a different opening message, maybe something that said I was confident and I found her attractive but I could have risked losing my chances with her. Also something that hinted at my love for making it rain with blood and that she would most certainly be fucking murdered and mutilated. I knew just the opening line. 'You have eyes to kill for'. She replied and I immediately knew she was interested. This was from past online dating experience in which I gutted, decapitated and repeatedly beat vulnerable women who were only searching for lust, love or quite simply an escape. Feeling assured that I had captured another hard body to play around with, I placed my Iphone 5 which had personal gold plated buttons into my Bose speakers and played an electronic pop song which originated from the seemingly endless electronic playlist.
         I walked to the Ikea knife holder on the kitchen side, which really went well with the cutlery inside the drawers, and slowly ran my fingers across the knives. Maybe I should start fucking her face in the bedroom, whilst she's drawling and gagging for air and wanting a good pounding I could bend her over the sink. My cock started to get hard just as I imagined her vulnerability and how my rock hard body would look like commanding her body as if she was a rental car made for me to drive around in and look good for all the guys back at the hedge-fund. I imagined the stories that I could tell the guys, maybe I'll take some photos when she's all in one piece. Then after I could slit her throat and dance around in the fountain of her blood. My watch churped. 12:00 pm. I thought I had better go to the gym and get pumped up for tonight.
         I couldn't do the double gym day as I didn't have time, so I incorporated leg day, which is vitally important for a strong and hard physique as activating the gluteal and leg muscles increased the amount of testosterone and growth hormone in your body, and cardio day which is obviously important for reducing fat, cholesterol and stress. As I loaded the barbell full of weight onto my deltoids, I stared into my eyes and saw the emptiness of my person, I did not know how I came to transform into this Johnathan Nelson I could not remember how I used to be. Then I began to squat, with perfect form, until 80% failure. The next set I loaded more weight and stared more intensively into myself. I am forming, through this physical activity, a perfect male body. I could never attain this perfection and I could never escape from imperfection. I began to squat again, listening to only my breathing, heartbeat and the droning of the electronic beat of the seemingly endless electronic playlist.
        I parked my car just outside Zizzi, I checked the rear view mirror to ensure that my face was in perfect order and that I looked just right for this Tinder encounter. I saw a leggy blonde, probably didn't squat or workout too much but went running, walked past my car towards Zizzi. She was wearing heels, a nice white and black dress and a black leather coat all probably from the high street. Cheap. She waited outside pulled out her phone. I combed my hair back meticulously as to reshape my hairstyle and I straightened my eyebrows with my fingers, as to ensure their refined felt-tip like shape.
Transcendence was like Ascent. A place embodying minimalism, the surface of things was smooth and void of any depth. I made a reservation there at one of the best tables.
We arrived at the entrance of Transcendence and I saw that it was completely full, apart from our table of course which made me felt as if I had a destined place to be and this feeling reassured me and added to my confidence. A smartly dressed man in a traditional yet fashionable waiting suit escorted me and... fuck I forgot her name... to our table. He gave us a small menu of the specials and a wine list.
"This is really nice, feel like an actress or something here you know haha" She looked at the menu but obviously felt out of place.
"Do they do pizzas or chips ? Haha! Just kidding" She giggled to herself.
I looked around and searched for anyone I knew not really paying attention to her. 'At Transcendence we believe in exquisitely refined ingredients, lavishly delicious wines and an unforgettable dining experience.' I already knew what I wanted: Tuna seared sesame steak finely placed upon earthly asparagus and drizzled in a thai sauce.
"I'm going to have the Tuna steak, have you decided yet?" I began to get impatient, but the thought of fucking her blonde brains out eased my impatience.
"I really don't know what I want... I am so indecisive with these things... decide for me hehe!" She still searched the menu.
"You will have the baked Dijon Salmon with roasted cashews and mint sauce." I said smirking almost neurotically but my good looks obviously carried the charm off.
"Wow! I like a man who's decisive... "  she blushed slightly and leaned back.
"I guess I'll try that then."
      Her hands rested upon her lap whilst her cheeks glowed a slight red, I wasn't sure if she was still blushing or if it was the cheap make up she wore. I thought of conversing with her so the waiter would get the hint that we were waiting.
"So you say you do fashion right? What designer intrigues you the most?" I asked trying to care about the incoming reply.
"Well I am really into Dolce, Kors and Alexander Mcqueen... for me I prefer designing my own stuff rather than y'know  following the crowd hehe. So what got you into banking then?"
She leaned forward and rested her head on both her hands, she was certainly interested and gave off a sexual vibe. I really began to feel impatient.
"If this waiter doesn't come now, I will nail his hands to the menu hahahaha" I laughed nervously.
She laughed with me, of course she laughed with me, she was a stupid fucking whore.
"hehe relax I am sure he will come soon, so tell me why you got into banking?".
I got into trading because I was a greedy man. I believed in capitalism, money brought materialistic opportunities. Money, that is of all capital, could help you live a longer more prosperous life and it could buy you a jaguar F-type. For me, money and the quality of my existence went hand  in hand. The only reason for my survival was to increase my private capital. I lived for the money and for the short term highs it presented me. There was no other meaning to my life, that is my life as this Jonathan Nelson.
"My father got me into the business, you know, following my fathers footsteps," I said patronizingly.
"That's great you have a close relationship with your father, I wish I could say the same". She looked down at the table.
Bingo. Daddy issues. The waiter came to take our order.
           The evening slowly unfolded, I became engrossed in the lavish atmosphere and only slightly impressed with the food, she gradually became drunk and high off the wine and the transcendent quality which she was not accustomed to. We finished our evening at transcendence and I payed leaving an exceedingly large tip definitely more than the quality deserved. I did not drink at all as I drove. The real reason for why I didn't drink was that it would dampen the highs when I spilled this girls guts all over my covered Ikea furniture. I took her to my car and she made a move to kiss me. I stared at her blankly for a few moments then I eyed up her body and forcefully pulled her lips onto mine. She strapped herself in whilst giggling. I drove back to my place putting my favorite electronic beat which is from the seemingly endless electronic playlist.
"This music is so boring.... hehe it's soooo monotononousss!" She tried to push buttons to change the music.
"Don't fucking touch my electronic playlist!" I shouted at her, slamming the steering wheel.
My face was red and I looked angry as I saw myself in the rear view mirror. She took all this in an amusing manner and began giggling.
"You look hot when you're angry hehehe! hmm" She said in a seductive tone.
As I pulled up into the parking space outside my apartment I re-touched my hair and straightened my eyebrows with my fingers. She tried to feel my leg but I promptly moved her hand suggesting her to wait.
I looked around the orange lit street to check if anyone was out. I opened my door and swiftly went round to take this medium-hard body to my apartment. She was stumbling a little bit so I helped her.
"wooo hehe wooo! you're so hot!" She exclaimed.
I temporarily put my hand over her mouth to shut her up.
       We walked up to the door of my apartment, I opened the door and quickly shoved her in. She fell over on her face but she started to giggle after a few seconds. I closed the door behind me, looking through the fish-eye to see if any of my neighbors saw us. I turned and saw her on the floor face down, her heels looked so good on her. Her smooth slightly sprayed tanned legs ran all the way up to her plump ass. I could see her pants from this view. Red. Just like the wine we had in Transcendence. Red. Just like the lips of the curly brunette hair slut on Tinder. Red. Just how this night will end.
      I picked her up and took her to my room and laid her on the bed, she started to try to undress me but I stopped her.
"I need ... to... I need to.. use the bathroom, just give me a second. Then I'll come and undress you." I said reassuringly.
"Okay hehe don't be too long." She descends back onto the bed rolling around on the most comfortable duvet Ikea sold.
I ran into the living room and checked everything was covered, the corner sofa, the office chair, the floor everything. The kitchen knives were there. The sink was full of water. I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face a few times, I looked into the mirror and saw my eyes. They were not soulless like before. Meaning and instinct filled my superficial eyes. I was about to commence an act which made me feel intuitive, instinctive and alive.
      She stood next to the Venetian blinds, which were closed, in just her red underwear and heels. Her dress was laid on the bed next to her leather jacket. A wave of aggression, sexual rampage and complete desire to fuck struck my body. I pushed her against the wall. She could feel my heavy breath on her neck.
"hmmm yeah hehe go hard on me mr.banker" she whispered as her face was against the macaroon cream wall.
Her ass was pushing against my cock, which was still in calvin klein boxers and under my Armani suit trousers. I starting groping her rack, felt so firm. My jaw slowly dropped and eyes began to roll back as I became enveloped in sexual mania. I grabbed her throat and started kissing her neck whilst still thrusting against her on the wall.
"I'm so wet for you".
I couldn't care how wet she was. I threw her to the ground and she looked as if it hurt. Good. Her face still read as if she wanted more, but a sign of fear crept into her eyes. I took off my clothes and grabbed her hair and fucked her tight little mouth. She was pushing back on my legs to breathe. But I was in control. She was vulnerable. I had the power. I let her breathe and she coughed and held her jaw.
"Be more gentle! God! I am not a fucking doll!" She shouted backing away from me.
"I don't like where this is going!" She shouted again, even louder.
I was nervous as to whether the neighbors heard her. So I walked up to her slowly, with a empathetic look on my face, kicked her in the head as hard as I could. She was not knocked out but she was becoming dizzy.
"uuuuh please... please.. just.." her mouth was being closed by my hand. Blood from her mouth oozed through my fingers.
I dragged her over to the sink, bent her over and started to pound her. I imagined how I looked like when I was fucking her hard. I heard her moaning and wincing as if my body contained too much power. My mind and body began an ascension into a place where the mundane Jonathan Nelson could not reach, all other noises and peripheral vision ceased. I felt like an almighty God striking down on this filthy whore.
She was crying. Begging for mercy.
"uh uhhh Please! Please! Just let me go uh uhhh Please!"
She tried to fight but I began forcing her head into the sink which was full of water. I continued fucking her. I was still in my ascension. I lifted her head and she gasped for air. I grabbed her hair from behind so that her ear was next to my mouth.
"Never fucking touch my electronic playlist!" I shouted in her ear.
I grabbed the knife, from the ikea set which goes even better with the plate set, and stabbed her multiple times. I felt the knife smoothly enter her body and quickly halted as it could not penetrate in any more. My hand covered her bloody mouth so she couldn't scream. I then slit her throat and blood jetted across the kitchen sink. As this happened I could hear my favorite electronic beat. I bathed in it. It released me.
                My watch churped 9:00 am. Another week of trading options, shorts and managing funds. I walked into my office and saw Brady and Roth on my desk with their trademark smirks.
"Fucking hell Nelson!" Brady shouted slapping his knee and opening his arms.
I was a little confused, I hadn't done anything praise worthy since I cashed in on the short the other week. Roth got up and pushed Brady.
"So did she do anal huh Nelson!? hahaha! We saw you and that fucking blonde whore at Transcendence!" Brady laughs.
Roth looked curious but in a way also uninterested.
"No anal Brady you ass! I met her on Tinder she came back to mine for some blow and doggy that's it." I dismissed the grandeur of Brady's excitement and made my way to the desk hooking my pinned Pierre Cardin suit jacket on the wall.
"Nice one Nelson, still better than Brady's Tinder fuck." Me and Paul started to laugh.
"Yeah fuckers nice! Well I've got to check up on the renewable energies market so go blow yourselves." Brady rushed out mimicking his finger up his ass as he does so.
Paul shook my hand and followed Brady. I really wished someone would fucking axe Brady in the fucking head, he's one of the dumbest men I know and he earns nearly the same as me. I stood up and viewed the bustle of London from my office on the 10th floor, I saw the reflection of myself in the window. My eyes still void of meaning, I still have not found anything beyond myself. I had taken lives of beautiful girls not because I hated them, but because it allowed me to ascend above the mundane materialistic life which I lived. I could not escape this convergence to a more perfect, superficial me. I could not find anything beyond it. I was simply the embodiment of it.