My Lower Companion

WARNING: X-rated material

I edited this story out of "Down the Rabbit Hole: A Memoir of Abuse, Addiction & Recovery," but it's pretty interesting...

Chapter 73: My Lower Companion

I met Courtney in August of 1999 when she was hired as a server at O'Malley's. On her first day at the diner, she revealed that she also liked to get high, so after work the two of us bonded over a joint by Gumma's pool, and an instant best friendship was formed.

Two days later, after our nine hour shifts, we went hiking at Black Pond in Meriden. As soon as we hit the trail we sparked a doobie, then silently strolled through the forest like a couple of naive teenagers in the beginning of a horror movie. The pot hit us hard, and soon we stopped to rest while we waited for our second wind. Courtney sat on a tree stump, and I stood on a path a few feet away. My mouth was dry and I was getting a headache from being overtired and high. I looked at my new friend, slumped comfortably on the stump. She also looked ready for a nap. Then I saw movement in the leaves at her feet. My eyes zeroed in on the thing that validated my fears. I let out a bloodcurdling scream and broke into a run. Courtney automatically followed suit and the two of us ran, screaming our heads off, through the woods as if we were being chased by an axe murderer. The sudden rush of adrenaline kicked in and I started to laugh. As if it were contagious, Courtney's screams gave way to laughter as well and we continued to crazily run while laughing hysterically. As soon as she could form words, Courtney huffed and puffed:

“Why… are we… running?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and doubled over with laughter.

"There was a snake!" I emphatically hyperventilated, amazed that she hadn't seen it, but it had almost touched her.

"Ahhhh!" she screamed and took off running again. I followed her this time, both of us laughing uncontrollably.

The two of us continued to hang out on a near daily basis, forming a connection through getting high and drinking. In September, she came to see me in a community theatre play. She brought me roses and gave the cast a standing ovation, her wide smile lighting up the dark house. Afterward, she came next door to Cornerstones, the bar where the cast and crew hung out after every rehearsal and performance. I introduced her to my fellow theatre mates, and she immediately made friends with everyone. Her outgoing personality drew people to her. I was proud to call her my best friend. Hanging out with her was exciting.

There were two particularly attractive men in the cast of my show, one of whom had been trying to get in my pants since the first rehearsal. With Courtney by my side, I grew balls and, with alcohol coursing through my veins, I grew horny.

"Tonight might be the night I take you up on your offer," I sluttily slurred to Ross, my suitor.

Courtney read my body language and joined in. "Is there an after after party at your place?" She had been eyeing hot guy #2, Peter, since Act One. I looked at her and we smiled at each other. My excitement grew. Ross and Peter exchanged glances, and the four of us prepared to make our strategically-timed exits. The boys left first, and Courtney and I went to the ladies room to freshen up.

"Oh my God, I want to fuck Peter so bad!" Courtney confided.

"Oh, I'm sure you’ll get to!" I replied.

Attempting to appear more sober than we were, we emerged from the restroom and said a quick round of goodbyes to everyone. Once in my car we squealed, "Ahhhh! We're gonna have so much fun tonight!” I carefully drove the eight miles to Ross's condo. When we arrived, before we’d even gotten out of the car, Ross opened the door to reveal himself and Peter standing in his dimly lit apartment, candles lit and soft music playing on the stereo like right out of a softcore porn. We sauntered in.

"Can I get you girls a drink?" Ross, ever the gentleman, offered.

“Yes!” said Courtney.

"I'll take a beer," I replied.

Peter lit a joint and offered it to Courtney, who sat beside him on the couch, purposefully touching her leg to his. She was so smooth. Such a natural! I followed Courtney's lead and joined them, sandwiching Peter between the two of us, and offered Peter a shotgun. I blew the smoke into his mouth and he turned and blew it into Courtney's. Ross appeared and joined the circle.

Before the joint was gone Peter summoned enough courage to kiss Courtney, which prompted Ross to do the same to me. Ross was experienced in these things, so he stood and walked me to the bedroom without ever removing his lips from mine. Peter and Courtney followed. Once near the edge of the bed, he took me by the shoulders, pushed his face away from mine and looked me in the eyes. Very purposefully he sat me on the bed.

"Kiss her," he instructed Courtney, who obeyed with no hesitation. Nervous and excited, the blood rushed to my face. I loved that my new friend was so open sexually!

I wanted to give the boys a show. I rolled on top of Courtney and began to kiss down her chest as Ross and Peter stood watching. The combination of pot and alcohol made me dizzy so I focused intently on kissing my friend's body while removing her clothes. She did the same to me and when I finally looked up I noticed another man standing with Peter and Ross watching us as well. Who's this guy? I thought. I'm so drunk I didn't even hear him come in. Completely naked now and more determined than ever to entertain these horny men, I dove into Courtney's pussy and started to eat her out. I heard the boys start to moan, heard them undo their pants, heard clothes hit the floor. Then someone grabbed me by the ass, dropped to their knees and started licking my pussy from behind. I laughed and shot upright and Courtney moved me up on top of her and started to kiss me again. Ross stood up and shoved his dick into me from behind. I balanced on all fours, moaning as my tits slapped Courtney in the face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Peter come around to the side of the bed and Courtney grabbed his cock and rolled over to blow him. He let out a huge sigh of relief, as if he'd been waiting to stick that huge boner somewhere all night. Ross continued to fuck me and I wondered where guy #3 was. I turned over and saw him slowly stroking his cock, his pants unzipped but still on. I beckoned for him to come over, which he shyly did. Once within my reach I grabbed his dick and put it in my mouth, and Ross started to fuck me missionary style. Not wanting to cum, Ross got off of me after a few thrusts, prompting our pretzel to change shape once again. Courtney took her mouth off Peter's dick and moved it to my pussy, as I lay on my back in the middle of the bed. Taking that as his cue, Peter shoved his cock into Courtney and she moaned loudly as he fucked her hard from behind. Soon he took himself out of her and slapped her ass with his still rock hard dick. As if choreographed, our fivesome changed positions again. Courtney rolled over and took my place, I positioned myself on all fours horizontally over her. Peter started to fuck her missionary, as I took guy #3's cock in my mouth again and Ross started to fuck me doggy style. It was a beautiful arrangement. My huge tits slapping against Courtney's stomach as Peter fucked her. Me sucking off a guy I'd never met while getting fucked from behind by another. Guy #3 couldn't take it very long and soon he exclaimed, "Cum!" which I guess was supposed to be his way of warning me. Drunk or not, I was not gonna swallow a random load, so I held it in my mouth until he finished, then promptly spit it onto the bed… Luckily, my menage-faux-pas didn’t spoil the mood… After a few more pumps Peter pulled out and shot his load on my back, trying not to make too much noise, which I found very hot. Then Ross pulled me off the bed and ripped off his condom.

"Get on your knees," he instructed, and I obeyed without thinking. Beating his hard cock quickly I saw what I thought he was going to do.

"No way, man!" I said, moving my face away perhaps just in time. He came on my tits. Oh, ok, I thought you were gonna try to cum on my face, I thought. What a gentleman.

The following month Courtney came to visit me in Boston. I was attending Emerson and living in "the G2," an apartment off the Fenway T stop, with five other college students. Courtney drove up on Thursday and hung out with my roommates while I went to rehearsal for a short play.

When I came home around ten we proceeded to get our smoke and drink on, and by midnight she was fucking my roommate Spencer. Should I attempt to join them? I thought drunkenly. Maybe this could be our next sexcapade. I wanted to, but I was scared… What if Spencer didn’t want me? What if Courtney didn’t want me again? What if it got awkward between me and Spencer after Courtney left? What if Courtney thinks I’m gay for her? My fears won out over my drunken desires and I went to bed alone, while Courtney spent the night in Spencer’s room.

The following morning, or rather afternoon, Courtney still hadn’t made her way back to me. Spencer’s door was ajar, so I knocked.

“Come in,” Spencer said, so I did. My best friend was embarrassingly snuggled on my roommate’s chest, and he gave me a look that said, ‘I wish she’d leave.’ I felt embarrassed for her and grateful I’d decided not to try and have a threesome with them. This girl was crazy!

A few weeks later Courtney surprised me by just showing up one Friday night. I came home around ten PM after my first night working as a hostess at Pignoli, a five star restaurant. It had been stressful, so I was decompressing with my roommates in the living room when Courtney just walked into our apartment! I hadn’t invited her, but I was glad to see her. She was impulsive, but fuck it! This was college! I had my whole life to plan things! She stayed the whole weekend, hanging out around Boston or with my roommates while I went to work, and on Sunday I made her a key to the apartment so she could come and go as she pleased. I loved having my best friend with me, but at the same time I hoped she wasn’t wearing on my roommate's nerves. I ignored my fear. As I said before: Fuck it! This was college.

In October Courtney came to the opening night of the play I was in. She stayed for three days, as usual, and came to both performances. I still appreciated her support, but was beginning to see a pattern. Each night we'd get hammered; each morning we'd sleep in. She was my lower companion: my friend who used like I did. Each party we threw, she was there. On her weekends from work, she was there. I recognized that I felt guilty a lot. Why? Maybe I knew that I was wasting a lot of time being high and drunk. That I was not living up to my full potential because I was stalling. And that I was using her friendship as validation for my behavior.

In November, I went home to Connecticut to be her plus-one at her sister's wedding. I'd never met any of her siblings before, but by the middle of the reception I was dancing like crazy and making out with her brother. My turn to act inappropriate in her space! It felt liberating, in an odd way. Now she had to behave, while I got to act the fool. I guess I resented that she repeatedly came into my space and acted out. I didn’t like feeling embarrassed for her.

Back home to Connecticut for Christmas break, one night Courtney and I randomly met five guys at the Athenian diner.

"You're an actress?" one of them asked me.

"She's the best actress!" Courtney replied.

"We're filming a mockumentary of The Blair Witch Project tonight. Wanna be in it?" they asked.

"Let's do it!" Courtney encouraged, so we followed them out into the cold rainy back woods of West Lake Village.

Courtney's compliment had given me confidence and I improvised the hell out of that impromptu film!

"MICHAEL!" I screamed, as if my boyfriend had been taken by an invisible witch. I ran through ankle deep puddles of muddy water, crying out in fear.

"Damn! You are a good actress!" one of our sketchy new friends exclaimed after yelling, “Cut!"

"I told you so!" Courtney boasted. I loved having her as a fan.

Sometimes we'd go months without talking, but we'd pick up right where we left off when we'd reconnect again.

Two months later, on my twenty-first birthday, I tried cocaine for the first time. My boyfriend Jon bought me an eight ball as my birthday present and we’d planned to do it together, periodically sneaking away from the small party to do lines. Like a drug-sniffing dog, Courtney caught wind of what was going on and followed us into our bedroom to ask for some. After a few times Jon said, "We shouldn't give her any more. We won't have enough for us." I listened to his advice and shook my head the next time she beckoned to the bedroom. I felt the seeds of resentment planted as her face fell. I was denying her drugs. She was mad.

I came home to Connecticut that summer and Courtney moved in with Tara Carlo in an apartment in Portland. Until that point she had been living with her mother, who was five years sober, and the two of them were not getting along. Courtney was very hotheaded and wanted her independence, and Tara, as a single mom, needed help paying the rent. I noticed that Courtney was angry a lot now. I felt scared of her, unsure of how she was going to react to any given situation. Sometimes she’d flip out over nothing. We used pot and alcohol to hold our friendship together.

One night my sister Sibby, Courtney, and a few of my sister's delinquent friends were at my father's house shooting a short film I had written. Halfway through, one of Sibby's male compatriots decided to up and leave for no reason other than that he was an asshole, leaving us with no way to finish. The other two shrugged.

"Want to get some E?" one of the hoodlums proposed. Of course we said yes, and my friend, sister, her ill-behaved friends and I rolled into the following day. I never did finish that film.

A few weeks later, Courtney and I sang karaoke at the Eagles Club. Martin Leviwitz, one of the weekend line cooks at the diner and also my weed dealer, bartended at this seedy dive bar in the bad part of town. Promoting his own event, he'd told me and Courtney about it at work and, like the good alcoholics we were, we showed up "to support." Courtney was still underage so she was happy to frequent any establishment that would turn a blind eye to that fact and serve her. We belted out classic rock hits and drank well vodka/tonics. When Rich Norberg and Raskall Johnson invited us out into someone's van to go get high, we did so eagerly. It was claustrophobic in the van, with so many of us packed in tight with no ventilation. When I emerged, I looked in a mirror and saw how bloodshot my eyes were. My blue eyeshadow accentuated the redness, and I silently resolved to only wear black eye makeup when I was high and drunk from then on.

My senior year at Emerson began and I went back to Boston. Courtney decided to move to Montana, because Connecticut was causing her problems, so a month and a half later our friendship was separated by two thousand miles. We did not speak again for a year and a half.

I graduated Emerson and moved home to Connecticut. I waitressed at Trumbull Kitchen, Elbow Room, then ended up back at O'Malley's, my "home." One day, out of the blue, Courtney walked in.

"Oh my God! How the hell are you?" I exclaimed, high on ephedrine and overcome with excitement.

"My fiancée died two weeks ago," she replied.

She had obviously been crying. She looked rough - overtired and dark. She had gained weight - or was it bloat? She had massive circles under her eyes, and a darkness about her skin. My heart sank.

"Oh my God, what!?"

I resolved to be there for my friend. I would lift her out of this depression. Friendship back where we left off, I decided.

"It was a drunk driving accident," she revealed. "He hit a tree coming back from a bar after we'd had a fight."

Tentatively, I wondered where she was in her own relationship with drinking. Had she stopped? I'd be jealous if she got sober before me. I was the pioneer in my relationships, damnit! But I was eager to reclaim our friendship.

"Dude! Y