Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach...

THOM-ACEEMyrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach....

God damn, motherfucking Myrtle Beach. 

I've been to many of the South's various ports of call. And while I will openly and undeniably voice New Orleans as my number one with a bullet destination, Myrtle Beach is always a close and beloved number two. 

Wild, untamed, and fueled by a pure desire to suckle every sweet cent out of whatever revelers might happen to clank along the Boardwalk, there is a delightful decadence in the sea air of Myrtle Beach, the multitudes gathering there for one pure, perfect purpose:

To get as fucked up as humanly possible…

But that quest for annihilation is not one without a wake that runs long and jagged, as I would find out...


Myrtle Beach


How I Learned to Ask the Right Questions


mbe1-skeeter"So where is it you said you were headed from?" Skeeter asks. His name want Skeeter if I'm being honest. It was probably Doug or Dave or something less stereotypical. But as far as I was concerned he was Skeeter, too drunk and fucked to know any better. I'd spent the better part of fifteen minutes talking to the old boy, waving in front of him on gummy drunk legs. 

"Tampa." I work out, my words thick and drunk. 

"That's in Florida, right?" He asks, his accent butchering the language. 

"Yes sir." I burp out, my breath tasting like cheap beer. 

He could tell I was loaded, the sun rising just over my shoulder through the poster covered glass of his roadside convenience store. 

"Drinking the whole way, no doubt..." He hoots out, chuckling somewhat approving of my derelict actions. 

I tell him how I ended up standing before him, drunk and disheveled. The evening had started out rocky, my Friday closing with some news concerning my divorce. It left me with a bitter taste in my mouth; needless monies chasing after the ruins of what had once been. It was a true "need to drink" night, and damned my luck every single friend of mine was either working late or too assed out from the night before to even think of pulling another long night so close. I had spent a chunk of the night drinking with loose acquaintances, finding little comfort in the slurred small talk and uneasy feeling of a stranger in their mists. So I called it a night at midnight, making my way to my car, but my soul still stirred. In a move divined by fate I turned to a gas station, grabbed a twelve pack and a full tank, and submitted myself to the call of the open road in my soul; the desire to clear my mind along the black snake of the American highways something I wasn't going to shake myself loose of.

I had originally intended (if drunkenly driving your car north along I-4 can actually be described as intent) to head to Daytona to see the sun rise over the Atlantic. But as I got closer, I saw I was still hours away from sunrise and felt little like just parking. So I continued north, ending up in some seedy Georgia exit just outside of Savannah. I had pulled over for fuel and direction, somewhere between Jacksonville and there having decided I needed to see Atlanta. 

Ringing up a fresh twelve pack and a few packs of Marlboros, Skeeter gave another approving hoot to my tale, chuckling as I swayed uneasy. 

"Man, you don't need Atlanta, brother." He said, taking my cash as I handed it to him.

"What you need is the sort of clarity that only drinking on the beach can give a man..." 

I roll my eyes at him (or at least I intend to, certain my drunken eyes couldn't pull off that simple request). 

"I do come from Florida, dude..." 

"Florida beaches ain't nothing but uptight rich people and old Canadians ruining the scenery. You need young drunk girls and a good time. What you need is Myrtle Beach."


My interest perks a bit, my drunken mind having heard of such a place in tales my brother and his friends would bring back from their base in Jackson. 

"Is it close?" I slur, for some reason at that point recognizing I might have been too drunk to attempt such a trip. 

"Closer than Atlanta." He says with a smile reaching for a map. He quickly charts me a course, handing me the map when he's done. I thank him and head back to my car, aiming to my new direction. It was a long, hard four hours before I arrived, slow drinking beers to maintain my drunk. 

mbep1-welcomeI arrived a little after ten, checking into the first hotel I could find that took cash. It was a shithole, a worn out mistress sitting in the middle of a beer stinking room. But it was a hundred bucks for the night, no questions asked, no papers filled out... Good enough for what I needed. I took a quick shower to gauge my feeling. I was tired but good; the energy of adventure settling the exhaustion and brain fog. 

I leave the hotel room shirtless, picking up some tacky airbrushed tank top and a fresh twelve pack at the first store I came across. Outfitted in my new shirt and catching the second wind from sea breeze and beautiful babies wandering around in bikinis, I headed for the beach. 

Skeeter had been right with his recommendation, the beach crawling with packs of attractive young women all soaking in the blazing sun. I wander the beach for a bit like some disheveled prophet. It doesn't take me long to meet a few people as I wander, buying some pot of one friendly gang member looking to move his merch and eating half a speed pill that some trashy girl down from Tennessee had offered me. 

mbe1-bbongI walked for about an hour before having had enough, my twelve pack having dwindled to a slowly warming six. I start heading back to my hotel room, feeling a nap might be in order before the evening's festivities (having made some loose plans with a few of the groups I had come across). 

"Is that the Beast your drinking?" I hear someone ask me. I turn around, seeing the question coming from a girl. She had black hair, dreaded and matted from a few days of salt water exposure, and a friendly smile. She looked like Katie Holmes, if Katie Holmes gave up working on TV and had gotten stung by a few bees. 

"Say again?" I ask as I turn around, taking her all in as I do. She was tall and thick legged, her bright blue bikini cutting a little into her light red burnt skin. 

"I asked if you were drinking the Beast," she said again in her mesmerizing Southern twang, making sure I noticed her adjusting her top. 

mbe1-melissall"Oh, yea... It's Milwaukee's Best," I reply, watching her hands press her breasts under the ill fitting fabric. 

"Mind if I get one?" She asked, pulling her sunglasses down on her face, bright sun hanging merciless in the Carolina sky. 

"I'd share the rest of these with you, but they're piss warm..." I reply, doing my best to focus on her face and eyes (her one size too small bikini making more difficult than it should have been to do so).

"Well, tell you what... Toss in one of them butts and I'll let you borrow our cooler for a bit..." She said, smiling. 

I agree and follow her to her camp, a few feet from where she had bumped into me. 

She introduces herself to me as we walk, telling me her name is Melissa. Once we arrive, she introduces me to her friend, a thin framed blonde with small perky breasts and an unflatteringly boney ass named Ashley. I put the beers in their cooler and share a butt with Melissa while we wait for them to cool. 

The three of us get along like gangbusters, my away game always superior to my home game when it came to the broads. We drink the beers, smoke some pot, and spend the rest of the early afternoon together. They take off on me after a bit, claiming they had people to meet up with, and Melissa and I exchange numbers; the three of us arrange to meet up later in the evening. 

I go to the hotel room and take a long nap, waking up a little before the agreed upon time with a monstrous hangover. It was blinding and head splitting, almost enough to have the entire evening called off had it not been for another industrious urban youth I found wandering around the seedy hotel parking lot as I sought an ice machine. mbe1-cokeOr better put he found me, asking me it I need anything for the evenings festivities. I buy a little more pot off him and some coke, feeling this headache was going to need more than a fist full of aspirin and a little of the hair of the dog. 

I return to my hotel room and do a little of the coke, the ashy white powder tasting like the entire Bolivian Army had stepped all over it before it reached my nostrils. But there was enough there to do the job, my headache cured and teeth grinding as I leave my hotel walking towards where Melissa and Ashley had arranged to meet with me. 

The streets thundered with the chatter of half cocked revelers and booming club music; the nightlife starting there roughly an hour before sunset. The previously bikini clad women had changed into evening wear, every woman seemingly trading their beach clothes for tight black dressed and revealing club attire (the same couldn't be said for the men, wandering around shirtless and in board shorts). Bright lights and carnival sounds created a surreal atmosphere, coked up eyes
feasting on the chaotic trails of screaming lights as I navigated through the sweaty throngs. 

I found the two women I had met earlier where they said they would be, chatting with some random boys over by some dimly lit porch bar. 

Melissa shouted when she saw me, pushing aside one of the smaller boys chatting her up to reach me; sticky arms from the humidity wrapping around my neck as she pulled close and kissed me. She's in a jean mini-skirt and a tight powder blue tank top, her ample breasts nearly bursting from the fabric. She pulls me into the group and I hold court, my mouth moving a million miles an hour as I dazzle with my charms and wit. It's not long before the males wander off, hooting after a group of unattached black girls who couldn't be bothered by their advances. 

The three of us hang out for a bit, noticing this was more a poorly chaperoned date than it was a hang; Ashley barely bothering to keep up with our chatter as she clicked away at her primitive cellphone. 

The same boys eventually return, waving over to Ashley.

"Well, it seems like Thom isn't going to rape you, Miss. He seems nice and fun and unless he has a twin he hasn't introduced us to yet, I'm gonna go off with Joe and Mikey and them." She said over her shoulder as she walked away from us. 

Melissa doesn't object to her ejection, seeming to be part of the plan as she waved her off and she scoots closer to me. I offer her a key bump, which she takes after a bit of coxing, and off our evening goes. 

The pair of us wander the glowing and thumping boardwalk of Myrtle arm in arm talking about nothing and everything at once. We eventually  go off to the beach to smoke a joint and do more coke (which, thanks to the sea breeze, I convince her we need to do by licking spots on our bodies and snorting it off the moist skin). I start to kiss along her neck, her skin salty from days of sea soaking. I feel her skin pimples raise under my touch, Sandy hands slowly running up under her shirt. She's a good egg, this Melissa, pausing our embrace long enough to take a fresh bump before diving back in headfirst. 

I feel her clumsy thick fingers work at my crotch, my zipper starting to pull down. I adjust to give her better access as I hear her phone ring. She ignores it the first time, busying herself with my member in her balmy, soft hands. But it rings again, Melissa taking her hand off me to find her phone in her purse. 

The conversation changes the tone of the scene, her lusty flush face running pale. I can hear Ashley's tinny voice coming from the other end, half sobbing as she chatters. 

mbe1-underagedrinkShe had caught the boys she had left with putting something in her drink at some hotel party they had taken her to. It wasn't her first drink there and given her rapidly diminishing faculties, she assumed they had already drugged her and what she had seen was the finishing touch before the rape began. 

She was crying and drugged and red faced; demanding Melissa come find her. 

Melissa curses but understands her obligations to this girl's current state and puts me away, promising we can continue once we make sure her friend is fine. We find her quickly, the hotel party not far from where Missy and I had settled to fuck around. 

Ashley goes limp in my arms as we arrive, her gummy legs giving out under her as she gave me an "I'm sorry I interrupted your handjob" hug. She was heavier than she seemed, so I walk her over to a bench as I worked out the next step. Nothing could ruin a nice night of nearly anonymous vacation sex quite like the vision of a thwarted rape, so I needed to move quickly. 

"What a bunch of assholes your friends are..." I curse at the almost rapist douchebags that had left this supposed friend of their in such a vulnerable condition (much to their own chagrin, if we are being honest, as it was them who initially intended to rape her).

"Yea. We know them from school. Just ran into them actually before you arrived," Melissa replied, rubbing her friend's pale forehead. 

"Lucky you that you had better plans." I say with a playful wink, somehow finding a way to up my stock in the face of near rape. 

She smiles, struggling to keep her friend upright, her body going limp under the influence of whatever drug they had dosed her with. 

"She looks pretty fucked up. Should probably drop her off at your hotel." I suggest, starting to feel the mojo of the evening go out with Ashley's consciousness. Melissa was about to say something when Ashley spoke up. 

"Don'tleavemeMelissa," she blurted out quickly as she faded back to her blackout. 

"I don't think I should leave her alone..." Melissa agrees, her tone one of disappointment. 

"Nodon'tleaveAshyalone...." Her friend again blurts, speaking quickly before vomit could determine where the escape route was. 

"But we were..." Melissa starts, for some reason trying to talk to the drugged girl into thinking clearly. 

"Idont'tcareifyoufuckhiminfrontofme. iwon'twatch." She rambles, closed eyed and collapsing. 

Melissa gives me an apologetic look, knowing this night had gone off the crazy rails with little way of getting them back to function. 

"I can help you get her back to your place, if you like," I start, hoping to test the drunken promises of her friend. 

"No. It'd be better if we got back to your place. Maybe got a few beers... Pick up where we left off..." Melissa replied, mbe1-katieholmessmiling her uncanny Katie Holmes smile. She even had a lazy eye just like Katie did, making me wonder to this day if I was too blinded by my obsession with Joey Potter to ever take an accurate accounting of that evening's events. 

I hail a cab, the three of us piling into the smelly vehicle. I tell him my hotel, asking him to hurry as the blonde was drunk and about to boot. He seemed to deal with this scenario a lot, barking tires chirping as he tight turned expertly through winding back roads until arriving at my motel. I pay him and head to the gas station next door while Melissa wrestles Ashley into my room. 

I buy a few sodas, a twelve pack of wine coolers, and an overpriced pack of rubbers and head back.  

I arrive at my room and find Ashley a bit better. She was still loopy, nodding in and out of conversation as she mumbles to herself, but she was talking at least. 

"I'm stupid... So stupid..." She kept uttering to herself, a little caked up vomit built up by her mouth as she lay sprawled in the bed. 

"Where's Melissa?" I ask, not seeing her right away. 

"Oh, she in the shower... I... Puked... It was gross." She forces out, her head heavily crashing into her chest as the last words dribbled out. 

mbe1-rollingI sit at this flimsy table off in the corner, starting to roll a joint. I feel a little tired as I finish rolling and carve out the remaining lines I had. I take the two thicker ones, dribbling a little water to chase the stomped powder through caked up passages. 

"Naughty boy..." I hear Ashley murmur, half out of it as she tried to up herself. 

"I'd offer you some, but I don't know what they gave you..." I reply politely, watching her collapse into herself. 

"No... No... You guys need it..." She gurgles, trying to lift a thumbs up from her noodled hand. I watch the limp blonde flail like a poorly operated marionette when I hear Melissa call me into the bathroom.

I get up, grabbing my smokes, a joint, and the phone book I had carved the lines onto, and start heading to the bathroom. 

"Thank 'ou..." I hear Ashley say as I make it past the bed.

"For?" I reply, pushing open the bathroom door. 

"Letting me stay here. My folks would have been pissed if I showed up like this..." She said before again collapsing into a heap. 

I hear those words as I enter the bathroom, moist balmy air greeting me... Along with a towel covered Melissa. 

She smiled as I walked in, closing the door behind me. 

"For me?" She says eyeing the lines of coke on the phonebook before I can react to anything, grabbing the rolled up bill and putting her head to the plate like a seasoned pro. 

"Did she just say her folks would be pissed?" I ask, still registering what the drugged out girl said as I stood before a mbe1-behindbarsnaked one snorting lines of coke with me in the bathroom. 

"Yea, it's sort of a tradition. Been doing it for years now. They let us come and go and do as we please so it's no biggie though," she said matter of factly.

I bought her explanation, taking the bill as she offered it back and doing one of the three remaining lines. I hand it back to her, lighting the joint as she heads back to the book; a thick plum of cannabis smoke greeting her as she erected herself. She took a nostril clearing snort as she took the joint from me, going from one drug to the next without a care. 

"So are you guys here on vacation..." I inquire further, something about the explanation starting to unsettle me. She hands me back the joint, her other hand starting to undo my pants. 

"I feel silly being the only naked one..." She pouted as she changed the subject. Her fingers work nimbly, my heavy shorts clanking down on the cheap tile. She lunges at me, nearly burning her eye on the joint and she kisses my lips. Her tongue jabs my mouth, a faint hint of phosphorous on her breath from her water back home (it's an odd eggy taste that I have found to be quite prevalent with women from the Cakalakas...). We give into the lusty calls of the evening, collapsing onto the floor in a sloppy clap; my body eagerly worming my way down hers. She digs her fingers into my hair as I feverishly work my tongue and fingers, grabbing clumps of it as she pushes me deeper. She moans and coos a few things as I attend to her needs, but one of the catches my ear:

"God, this is the best spring break ever..." 

My blood runs cold as I recoil slightly. I push off her, working myself up to my knees. 

"What?" She asks, her naked body sprawled atop a pile of damp towels and dirty cheap tile. 

"We got all night..." I tease, hoping to not kill any momentum as I settle myself had I misunderstood. I relight the joint, Melissa sitting up.

"So you're on spring break?" I ask, taking a long hit off the hand rolled cig before handing it off. 

"Yea," she replies as she hits off it as well. 

"Cool. ECU? NC State?" I continue, mentioning the few Carolina based universities I could think of. 

"High Point." She replies, moving herself aggressively to me as she returned the joint to my hand. I tried to subdue her, thick soft hands batting off my objections as she reciprocated my favor to her. 

"High Point College? Never heard of it." I continue, pushing through any desire to lose myself in the moment. 

"High Point High, silly." She said, pulling my prick from her mouth long enough to utter those cold words. 

They killed the moment with the efficiency of a skilled assassin, my cock going limp in her hand as those words were uttered. I pulled back in horror, throwing one of the towels on the floor at her to cover up. 

"You're in high school?!?!?!" I said in terror, hoping beyond hope she was a really stupid girl working on her second or third senior year. 

But i wasn't so lucky, the naked girl sheepishly telling me she was a junior (but, as she said to me to try and pad the stats, she started a year late). I started to ask how old she was, but thought better of it; something telling me not knowing for sure might be a good idea should it ever come up (say in court). 

"Oh jesus... Oh god...," I mutter myself, cold skinned and limp dicked. 

"We can't do this... You're too young... I'm too old..." I said, shocked into lucid sobriety at this discovery.

"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're worried about..." She bandies back, hoping to help me right myself with the whole scene. 

mbe1-jazilbait"It's not right," I hear myself say as I start to envision myself being perp walked out of a Carolina courtroom forever doomed to have to awkwardly introduce myself to my neighbors. 

"Five minutes ago, it couldn't have been righter," she said, moving towards me. I pulled away, her nude form starting to revolt me (the terror of spending a decade in a windowless box for animals doing much to convince me as to the wisdom of my new found chastity). 

"Five minutes ago this wasn't a federal offense," I really, lighting a pair of cigarettes. I hand her one, contributing to her delinquency hardly the worst thing I could be doing to her at the time.

"It's only one if you get caught, baby," she said, smiling lustily at me. 

She saw my resolve weakening, moving on me like a jungle cat would her prey. 

"And I promise..." She cooed, moving her naked body atop mine. I feigned a resistance, telling myself it was half hearted because of my fear of hurting the girl. 

"... I won't tell no one..." She continued, sliding along my still unresponsive body. 

"... Don't make me beg..." She fired off one last try, every ounce of my resolve pushing me to the Righteous Path despite every reason in the world to stray. 

I'd be lying to say I wasn't tempted, every cell in my body longing to give into her demands and requests. 

"Still no?" She finally relented, pulling off me a bit. I looked into her eyes, resolve crumbing as we sat in that embrace... A moment forever etched in our lives that needed to end as quickly as possible. I sheepishly shake my head no, trying not to look upon her as any passing glimpse of her would have been enough to sway the vote. 

"Damn it," she curses, pulling herself completely away. She covers herself with a towel and sits disappointed for a moment. 

"This sucks." She says, a slightly embarrassed smile tracing her face. 

"I'm sorry..." I start, nervous and scared and needing to find an out. 

"Don't be. You didn't know I was still in high school," she said, taking a useless drag off her smoke (noticing for the first time in the evening that she didn't inhale the cigarettes).

"I knew you were 21," she continued,making a generous stab at my age,"and I knew that I wasn't 18.

"But I liked you, you know? You're funny and sweet and talked to me like what I said mattered," she continued, her age showing more and more as she apologized. 

"It's funny," she went on, slightly chuckling as wasted cigarette smoke rolled out her mouth. 

"What?" I reply, half listening as I worked out how to end all of this. 

"You sweep me off my feet and give me just an awesome, awesome night and for some reason it's wrong, but had I gone out with the boys they say I should, I would have ended I like Ashley or worse..." She says, pointing beyond the closed bathroom door to her passed out, drugged friend. 

"They try to rape her and that's whatever, but you actually treat me like a woman... Like a fucking lady, and that's the crime?" She continues, the coke granting her an odd sort of clarity over the whole scene. 

We chat a bit longer, slowly getting dressed as we do. Clothed and a bit more settled, the pair of us exit the bathroom. I call the two girls a cab, figuring it being the best way to remove them from my lives. 

"What are you going to do about her?" I ask, pointing over to her unconscious friend.

"I'll sneak her in. Her folks are a bunch of old drunks. Probably fucked themselves into a drunken coma by now. Shouldn't be too big a deal. She'll be alright, right?" 

"I've been drugged before. She'll have a headache. She'll feel like warmed over Hell. But hopefully she will learn something about drinking with douchebags."

"Exactly." She said, the door rattling from a knock from the cabbie. I open the door, a dark smiling man greeting me. 

"Oh, party room, party room..." He says in a thick Gullah accent, seeing me and two disheveled women waiting for him. 

"Yea, wild night, man...," I reply, Melissa working behind me to get her friend up. 

"She ok?" The driver asks, noticing the rather limp blonde the brunette was struggling to maneuver. 

"Can't handle the Hurricanes," I reply with a nervous chuckle.

"Listen, they need a ride back to their hotel," I continue, moving away from the door and towards Melissa. 

"Ok, I wait for you in the car..." The driver nervously exited, something in me certain he was going to leave this bad scene first shot he got. But to my surprise he was waiting go for us once we got Ashley going (her gummy legs moving under pure muscle memory), all of her weight being supported by Melissa as we walked to the car.  The two of us strap in Ashley in the back, shutting the door once she was secure. 

"Yo, I can't take no half dead girl..." The driver objected, thinking we were sticking him with the dead white girl.

"I'll be along in a second. Wanna say goodbye if that's fine," Melissa replied to him, leading me back to the room. The driver said something else to our backs as we walked back into my room. 

"I really had a great time today, Thom." Melissa started, her voice losing her confidence as she went through the phrase; each syllable growing smaller and quieter as she spoke them. 

"I did too until..." 

"Yea, again, sorry about that. I didn't-" 

"Let's not do this again..." I interrupted, not wanting her to kick herself again. 

"You had a good time. I had a good time. It didn't work out. That's life. It sucks. Believe me... Think I wanted this evening to end up like is?" 

"It doesn't have to," she tried one final time. 

"Yes it does. It would be fun and great and wonderful, but it'd be wrong. Sorry." 

"I understand. I'm just being selfish." She said, her voice embarrassed and small. 

"So don't be sad then. You had a good date. We had fun. I liked you. You liked me. Feel good about this, honey. If you were a year older or me a few younger things might have ended different. But tonight, it ends here..." 

The driver honks his horn, growing impatient. 

"He ain't gonna wait forever..." I start.

"Well, have a safe trip home," she starts.

"I got your number. Maybe I can give you a call..." She said. I make a face as she says that, Melissa sensing my discomfort. 

"Or maybe we could exchange emails? I don't wanna lose touch with you for some reason..." She continues. 

"But you're underage..." I say, that being the best reason I could muster to not keep in contact.

"But I won't be forever..." She replies coolly, giving me a playful wink.

I think about it for a minute, thinking it might be better for her to leave here with a friend to protect as opposed to a rejecting asshole she needs to exact revenge upon. I grab the pad and pen off the nightstand and scribble my email on it. She does the same, handing me the paper once finished. I walk her to the cab, giving her a loose hug before she enters, and walk to the driver window. 

"I turned the meter on," he says, pissed he was being delayed. 

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry we took so long. Here," I say, handing him a few twenties.

"Here's sixty bucks. Take her wherever she needs to go, alright? Keep the rest." 

The money changed his mood a little, knowing the fare- even with the meter already ringing away- would come in well under the fare handed to him. I leave him, walking to Melissa's window. She rolls it down, still a little embarrassed as she looked at me. 


"It's fine... Again, I really had fun with you tonight. You're a great girl. Give me a call when you get back so I don't worry." I say, nodding over to her incapacitated friend She pushes her head through the three quarters down window, catching me off-guard as she plants a kiss on me. 

"Goodbye Thom..." 

The cab pulls away, Melissa speeding away from my life. I feel my breath leave as the tail lights fade off down the road. I felt inclined to flee as well, thinking it might be better to be somewhere else once Ashley's parents start asking about who drugged their little angel. But I was too burned out from the day, passing out as I entered the room to gather my things. 

I woke up a few hours later in a panic, frantic as I had little idea as to where I was. It took a minute for the memories to fully come together, eventually the clear picture of the events of the evening prior coming shockingly together. I gathered my things quickly as I suddenly felt the grip of law enforcement reaching to grab hold. It took minutes for me to be out of the room and tearing down the highway, the rising sun starting to peak out from the horizon. I drove like a saint until about an hour out of Myrtle, believing myself somehow in the clear of any criminal entanglements. I pull off to a rest area to wash my face and prepare for the long ride. 

Scrubbed and evacuated, I head back to my car and roll a few joints to have at the ready with the reminding weed; hoping the seedy brick weed I had bought the night before would help ease my thundering head. It was then I noticed my phone blinking green, alerting me to an awaiting message from Melissa. She told me that they had arrived safely and the driver helped her remove Ashley from the car. She had gotten her into bed no questions asked and was now sitting in bed alone wishing she wasn't. It went on a bit more like that before the machine cut her off.

We learn something from everything... Even pedophilia... 


Needless to say, this trip did little to alleviate my worries at the time. If anything, they grew exponentially. For my part, I got more diligent about checking IDs; the chilled feeling of criminality something I had wanted to avoid from this point forward in my sexual adventures. 

As for Melissa...

For weeks I kept expecting to come home to be ambushed by disgusted law enforcement agents sicked on me by enraged parents. But nothing ever came of the whole affair beyond a rather engaging email friendship.

We only spoke once more about that weekend during our time corresponding. It was a few years later when she brought it back up to me, once again apologizing for what had happened that night. She blamed it all on youthful stupidity, never once uttering a word of the night to anyone ever (including me). But she then said something that stayed with me...

She said she compared every man that had come since that night to my lingering memory; spending her every day since seeking for someone who made her feel like she had that night. And because of that high bar, she met someone who did that and more. It made me feel better, my gut always harboring a slight pang of guilt on that evening.  

We didn't speak much after that, I assume whatever void I was being used to fill now being filled by her new beau. 

And while I don't think about her much (the idea of my not wanting to reminisce fondly on the night I almost became a sex offender something that didn't seem odd to me), I'll never forget how she closed her that email to me. 

"We never had a yesterday. We never had a tomorrow. But we will always have Myrtle Beach..." 

Goddamned, motherfucking Myrtle Beach.