Name: Sex and the Vampire IV- Dispensable Sex
Author: VoceAngelo AKA Jovi
E-mail: voceangelo@aol.com
Webmistress' Note: You can find the other fabulous Sex and the Vampire
stories archived at Zane Rosetta's site - http://www.geocities.com/z_rosetta.
Author's notes: To Vissy and Baby Vissy. Mother and child are doing well.
To Faithtastic and Dolores who've been breathing down my neck for part four.
(I love you both.) To Poizonivey, who continues to be a source of spiritual
inspiration to me. And (whew) lastly to Zane Rosetta, who has yet to give me
a tongue lashing I will never forget. (wink wink) Y'all still mah bitches!
For everyone else, sorry for the cross posts. Love me!

***

Once upon a time, there was a writer for a magazine who was gay, fabulous,
made a lot of money writing about sex and had a great wardrobe. He had
recently broken up with his undead lover and was on the hunt for a new one.
Preferably alive. So he and his three closest friends went out to a Chelsea
bar, boozing it up and dancing badly until about three am.

Giles said, "What did I tell you?! Isn't this place fabulous?!"
Oz said, "Yeah, you can cut the fabulosity with a pretentious knife."
Wesley said, "Has anyone seen Xander?"

Well, Xander was in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by gyrating male
bodies that were all carbon copies of each other; short highlighted hair,
buff, wearing muscle shirts and jeans. God, I hate Chelsea.

Some random High NRG track was playing, and I was swiveling my hips
accordingly. A Latin guy came right up behind me and started dancing with
me. Me, never being one to refuse a dance, (or a drink for that matter)
welcomed the Spanish blood into my little seduction dance. I took off my
Stetson cowboy hat and faced him. Yet another face to add to the list of all
the beautiful, evil people I would never, ever degrade myself to sleep with.
He smiled broadly at me, his goatee parting slightly where he had a scar on
his upper lip and said, "I'm Miguel."

Nor was I never, ever that drunk, "Xander, nice to meet you."

Well, the gang never did find me that night, and I had a night of what I
thought was great sex with this Miguel person, but ended up being
Oh-my-God-what-did-I-just-do-! sex with this Miguel person. I quickly
grabbed my shirt and my pants which were flung lazily across the living room
floor along with his muscle shirt and his jeans and snuck out quietly. I
don't remember how I was ... divested of my clothing. I do remember bits and
pieces of the sex. What I do remember was that it was hot. Not just hot,
but come-fuck-me-hard hot. Complete drunken romp hot. Maybe Doyle and Angel
weren't so wrong after all?

So off I went from gorgeous Latin Miguel's cozy Upper West Side apartment to
my midtown apartment for a shower and a change. And a very large dose of
Tylenol.

God, my head hurt. But as my temples throbbed, I began to think. Sex with
strangers was great and all, but what happened to commitment? Nowadays when
people use dispensable cell phones, could relationships be this dispensable?

I met Oz and Giles for brunch. I had my darkest pair of shades on. Al
fresco sucks when you're hung over.

Giles said, "So, did little Xander have a night on the town last night?"
Oz raised an eyebrow.
"Little Xander definitely painted the town milky white last night."
Oz smiled and said, "And ... his name?"
"Miguel."
Giles laughed. "Miguel? Is Xander living La Vida Loca now?"
"No, Xander is not living the Vida Loca. It was just a one-night stand."
Oz looked up from his pumpkin soup. "I had a one-night stand once."
Giles rolled his eyes, "Oh please, darling. I don't believe that for a
second."
Oz was genuinely offended, "Why not?"
"Because dear, you don't DO one-night stands, remember?"
"Well," Oz said, "I did. As a matter of fact, the one-night stand was with
Angel."

I, ever brilliant, said, "What?!"
"It was a while ago, Xander. Before you and Angel were a couple. I was set
up with a summer associate position here in the city from my old firm in LA.
I didn't think I was going to stay in New York until I met him."

"So, wait lemme get this straight, you slept with Angel?"
Obviously, something's never stick.

"Yes, that was almost five years ago though. It was one of those things you
want to forget as quickly as possible."

Now he had my attention. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, he was a bit too aggressive."
Giles' eyes widened. "You mean the sex was really rough?"
"No! God, no! The sex was fabulous. It was his approach that turned me off
in the beginning."
"What did he say?" Giles and I were hooked.

Oz smiled devilishly and deepened his voice slightly pretending to be Angel
and said, "You know, I could fuck you within an inch of your life and still
make you scream for more."

Giles said, "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
Oz said, "Exactly."
I couldn't believe it. "He did not!"
"Yes, he did. So anyway, the drunker I got the more inviting his offer
became."
Giles said, "OK, now, I want details ... juicy ones."

I lit a cigarette. I had no idea Angel had done this with Oz. How the hell
did I get into this mess?

"Well, after following him home in a cab, I ran into his building when he
stepped out of his car."
"Has everyone fucked my ex-boyfriend?"
"Hush! Oz speaks! " Giles said, "It's an occasion in itself when it happens.
Go on, sweetie."
He looked at me somewhat worried, "Xander, if this is bothering you any, I'll
stop."

Hell no! "Hell no! I want details too!"

He smiled and continued, "OK. I got off and rushed into his building. I
grabbed him and made him face me. Then I said, ÎWill you still make good on
your promise?' He kind of smiled at me, and then, he kissed me. Actually, he
practically sucked my tongue out of my mouth. We went back up to his place,
and we didn't even make it to his bedroom. He fucked me right there on the
parquet living room floors. My God! He's got a big penis. It got so hot
that when I was on top grinding myself onto his dick, he got so excited he
kind of propped himself up so that his hips were off the floor. He fucked me
like that for a while, and then yours truly was like, Îlet's see how you like
it?' I sucked my finger, brought it around and fingered him while he was
fucking me. There was cum everywhere. In my hair, on my chest, on his face,
in his hair. I had it all over my butt. I came first because he jerked me
off while he was still inside of me. Then, he pulled out and WOW! What a
load!"

"Xander?" Giles said, "Do you have another cigarette?"
Eyes wide, I shook my head and passed him one. Oz smiled softly and calmly
and continued to sip his soup.
"So," I said, "what happened the morning after."
Oz looked up from his soup and said, "I took off while he was still sleeping,
and I made two decisions. First, If all men in New York could screw like
that, I was staying. Second, I had to get a gym pronto. My legs were so
sore, I could barely walk."

"So, why haven't you had a one-night stand since?" Giles asked.
"Well, to be honest, I felt really cheap afterwards. I'm better than that."

Now, I was feeling for lack of a better word really shitty. I did feel
really cheap. Sure, Miguel was great. In fact, he was almost as good as
Angel ... almost. But essentially, I was dispensable. I was a fabulous fuck
he would soon forget. Oz sleeping with Angel wasn't what was gnawing at my
insides, that happened almost five years ago. It was the fact that threw my
own glaring stupidity that night in my face without realizing it. I needed
some assistance.

After my soiree with the boys, I called Willow (one of my few cool straight
friends) up.

"Hey, Wills."
"Hey, babe. What's shaking?"
"I had a one-night stand."
She giggled, "How drunk were you?"
"Very... Will?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Am I dispensable?"
"Is this about Angel?"
"Well, partly. Partly, the one-night stand. Just a no good, very bad day
altogether."
"Xander, you are absolutely indispensable because we all love you so much.
If something bad should ever happen to you, we'd all be devastated."
"Aw, thank you, Willow."
"Anytime, Xander-slut."
Laughter from the both of us.
"Your ass is big!"
Mock gasp. "Bitch!"
We laughed even harder.
"Wanna catch a movie, sweetie?"
Willow said, "Only if I can sleep with you too."
I giggled, "I'll pick you up at eight."

So unless you're a Chelsea queen, you are dispensable. No, I'm sorry. I'm
still a little bitter. No one is dispensable. Everyone has their purpose,
as long as you've got friends who will pick you up when you are down, and
then, laugh at your clumsy ass when you've stood up.